Dan: Your phone screen lit up and chimed, startling you and breaking you away from your mindless daydreaming and nail-biting. Shit, was it really seven o'clock already? You hadn’t even changed out of your sweats or eaten a thing since you woke up in a mood this morning. 1 new message from Dan Howell. You opened the text, hoping and praying that he wasn’t asking for help with a video or anything. You were having one of your bad days and nothing in the world could’ve brought you outside. Not even Dan.
Drinks on me tonight? I’ll pick you up.
Well, shit. Rarely did Dan ever initiate anything so social; he must’ve really been feeling lonely. You didn’t want to reject his generous invitation but on a bad mental health day like this one, you had to sit this one out. You threw back a ’sorry, I’m not feeling well’ as an excuse and pretended you didn’t feel like a horrible person for it. Depression for you wasn’t manic episodes of tears and screaming or a lack of emotion or anything, it was a painful inner guilt for everything, and it only made you want to hide. With the stress of work and life, getting out of bed was an impossible task. So there you stayed in your ugly sweatpants with the evening news warbling softly in the background. It was your only distraction.
At nine o'clock, when everything in your flat had gone pitch black before you could even notice, that irritating ding dong of your doorbell scraped at your ears. You knew you hadn’t ordered anything online (interacting with the postman was a simply scary notion), or gotten any food delivered, as eating was the last thing on your mind right now. You considered just letting the guest wait and leave, but you went to the door anyway.
“Hello,” Dan said with a smile. He held a brown paper sack and a single red rose. It looked like a scene from a cheesy romance film that you frankly were not in the mood for.
“What do you have there?” You gestured to the bag, trying your best to put on a smile for him.
“Wine,” he said. You could see the awkwardness in his expression. Maybe this wasn’t his best idea. “Could I…Could I come in?”
You stepped aside to let him through, and closed the door behind him. Dan set the bag on your kitchen counter and handed you the rose without a word. It was lovely, yes, but why did you deserve it? The two of you stood in awkwardness as you tried to pretend you didn’t want to just hide. “Not that I don’t just love the company, but why did you come all the way over here?”
Dan shifted in his shoes and tousled his hair in attempt to seem casual despite his obvious panic. Oh, he hoped this didn’t ruin everything. “You said you weren’t feeling well, so if we can’t go get some drinks, then I’ll bring the drinks to you.” Your face contorted in self-inflicted shame. You’d never felt like more of an inconvenience. Why was Dan even dating you? You were just a depressive mess that deserved nothing. You wished silently that Dan wasn’t so nice; maybe then he’d give you time to wallow by yourself. “Sorry, should I go?” He asked.
Yes, you thought, not wanting to taint his view of you. To him you were the smiling, hardworking person that you put out. But in reality you felt like a big fat failure, certainly not deserving of Dan’s kind of love and affection. You started to cry, for God knows what reason, and began to lose your mind. “Stay,” you huffed, “please.”
Dan set everything on the kitchen counter before taking you in his arms, his chin resting on top of your head protectively. You let everything out, wailing about how goddamn depressed you were, how you weren’t enough for him, how it was all just too much, how you wanted nothing but to hide. You were hardly coherent but Dan understood anyway and held you tighter.
“Listen,” he started, quiet and steady, unlike you, “you are so much more than enough. You are so beautiful and amazing and kind and smart. I love you. Please don’t think that I or everyone else doesn’t for a minute. I love you.” He sounded like he was going to cry, too. But Dan was strong, your rock, and you were infinitely grateful for his company. He held you until you calmed down, and for even longer. “It’s okay.” He repeated. And it was. You were okay and Dan would make sure of that.
Phil: You woke with a start at nine o'clock out of Phil’s bed in a panic. You hadn’t meant to spend the night (not that it wasn’t a lovely time) and sleep in again, it really messed with your schedule. “Shitshitshit,” you muttered, detangling yourself from the bedsheets, trying to retrieve your clothes from the floor below. You were three hours late to take your medication, the one thing that kept you from your crippling depression. You’d be feeling the consequences any time now.
Phil yawned loudly from behind you on the bed as he propped himself up on his elbow. “Good morning, beautiful–” he greeted before processing your panic, “Is everything alright?”
You sighed, you really wanted to avoid waking him up. He worried too much. You ran a nervous hand through your hair as you slipped your boots over last night’s sweatpants. “Yeah, just peachy,” you smiled, leaning in to kiss your boyfriend before you went off. You could tell by his kiss that he really didn’t want you to leave.
“Can’t you stay a while longer? You just woke up,” Phil complained. His blue eyes pierced yours with a needle of guilt and a hint of confusion. It made you feel even worse; you couldn’t even make your own boyfriend happy.
You put your hair up haphazardly in his mirror, speaking through the hair bauble you held in your teeth, “Sorry, I forgot I had to– I forgot something…yeah,” you tried in your most convincing tone. You didn’t want to raise any concern, you just wanted to get back to your own flat and take your meds and hide, and Phil was making it harder. When you decided you were finally at the minimum level of presentability for the Tube ride back to your place, you gave one last goodbye kiss to Phil, who was now stood in his pyjamas behind you in a state of bewilderment. You gave your last ‘see you soon’ to him before he got hold of your arm.
“You’re acting weird,” he said with an uncharacteristically serious tone, squeezing your hand in attempt to calm you, “what’s going on?”
“I’m fine, Phil,” you sighed, “really.” But your face said otherwise, your emotional armor had been pierced by the guilt of worrying Phil. Why do I ruin everything? Your eyes started to water and your nose twitched. You were crying. Shit.
Without a word, Phil brought you to his chest, a hand on your hair to hold you to him and calm you down. After a minute or three, the two of you had ended up on the carpet, his shirt darkened with unsightly tear stains. You had stopped crying, but worry was still looming over your head like a storm cloud. “Please talk to me,” he whispered, “please.”
You took deep breaths as you wiped your face dry. You sighed. “Phil…” you started. You didn’t know how to tell him, you were scared he’d see you as some wounded animal from now on. “I have depression,” you blurted, “like…a lot,” you held back tears, trying to explain yourself, “I was supposed to take my medication hours ago, I haven’t missed it in months…” you trailed a bit as your vision was blurred by tears. Phil looked at you but said nothing. “It gets really bad if I don’t take it, I just didn’t want you to see me like this. I’m sorry.”
Phil tightened his arms around your crying figure, trying to protect you from whatever made you hurt. His thumb traced a soothing line on your spine as he held you. You thanked whatever power that was for your patient boyfriend. “Don’t apologise,” he said, “you don’t have to keep anything from me, beautiful. I’d still love you if you had a hand growing from your forehead.”
You laughed, more at his attempt of humor than what he said. You’d convinced yourself you were absolute rubbish, but at least Phil loved you. You didn’t say anything for the longest time. You didn’t have to. Phil walked you to the station and made sure you got home safe. When you were finally back at your own place, you found your phone was filled with messages from Phil, all GIFs of goats and puppies and ducks playing, all gratuitously cute. Of course, your depression would not in a million years be cured by cute baby animal images, but you admired Phil for trying to help, and you loved him for that.
Reposting from this old post is all the rest of the concept art I did for the ridiculously shameless Sailing Scout set that pybun modeled for this upcoming Halloween 2015. She started off with the wand as well as a concept for some frisbee action for a cleaver mod.
You can get previews of the finished set HERE & HERE!
Be wary, my child
Of the songs and whispers creeping o'er these waters
Hymns of the tides and calls of the depths
Luring you closer into their breast.
But above all, my sweet
Beware o’ the lights, dancing like fireflies, swirling about the waves
Should you gaze too long,
They shall be the last you’ll see.