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Dan’s eyes opened gently, his pupils adjusting to the bright light of the sun peeking through the curtains, and the first thing his mind registered was the cold emptiness of the space in the bed beside him. The distinct absence of Phil. It felt like waking up naked on a glacier after waking up next to Phil all of these years. His presence and warmth filled a hole in Dan’s heart. Dan often took the little things for granted like waking up next to his soulmate. It’s the sort of thing you only miss when it’s gone.
Phil really hadn’t been himself lately. It was small things. He was closing the cupboards when usually he would never dream of doing such a thing. He wasn’t stealing Dan’s cereal. That was really strange. The most obvious thing was the shift in eye colour, his eyes were slowly growing more and more red than blue. Most people wouldn’t blink twice at this but Dan did. Of course Dan did. This was his soulmate. His person. How on earth could he not notice when something was off with him. Dan couldn’t quite pinpoint the exact day where this had all started but it seemed to be gradually getting worse. Phil was pushing him away. Sleeping in the other room for what seemed like no reason whatsoever. That caused Dan to spiral slightly. He was deathly afraid of losing Phil already so he immediately assumed he did something wrong. He had attempted to broach the subject multiple times since Phil had moved to his own bed but he always changed the subject or brushed Dan off. This really didn’t seem like his Phil.
Dan made his way through the apartment and reached Phil’s door, he knocked gently. He was being so careful right now. He didn’t want to make this any worse than it already was. What he was really trying to avoid was Phil walking out on him. He wasn’t sure he would ever be able to handle that. “Phil? You want coffee?” Dan's voice was soft and clouded with sleep as he spoke. He was just hoping this would all go away in a few days once Phil was out of his mood. When he got no reply he knocked once more. Again? Still nothing. He just sighed and started walking to the kitchen. Phil was probably still sleeping. It was only eight.
Dan wiped his eyes of the crust of sleep as he walked into the kitchen and he had to take a second glance to ensure his eyes were working right. Phil was already up. He was sat at the breakfast bar with a full bowl of cereal and a coffee but every single cupboard was closed, and was he reading… the newspaper? What the fuck(i). Okay, something was definitely the matter and Dan was determined to figure it out now. Phil had barely spoken to him over the past few days and now he was reading the newspaper? Had the aliens finally gotten to him or something.
Dan rounded the corner to start making coffee and Phil spoke. “Good morning, Daniel.” Not even his voice felt the same; it didn’t hold that quality of warmth and affection it usually did when he was speaking to Dan. It felt cold and robotic. Dan hated it. He would much rather peel all of his skin off than listen to another second of the love of his life talking to him like that. “Uh, morning. How long’ve you been up?” Dan queried as he began to fill the kettle and boil it. “A few hours at most, I didn’t wish to wake you.” Phil stated, his tone still void of my expression and Dan just couldn’t bear it. He so wanted to stay calm and level headed but he just couldn’t. “Stop talking like that. Please.” Dan snapped. He couldn’t even look at Phil as he spoke. Every time he did he felt as if he might be sick.
When Dan eventually did look up at Phil he had expected the other to be upset. He usually got either angry or cried whenever Dan snapped like that but he remained expressionless. Somehow that was worse. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Daniel.” He just sounded so robotic, as if talking to a complete stranger though Phil was usually far too nice to talk to even a stranger like this. Dan let out a sigh. “And stop calling me Daniel!” Dan was trying to sound angry but it came across more like pleading than anything else.
“Why? That’s your name is it not?” Phil questioned and Dan wanted to sob. “Well, yes but no. Not for you!” Dan explained frantically. No one called him Daniel, not since the whole Dan and Phil brand had started, but Phil had especially never called him Daniel. He really couldn’t figure out what was making him feel more nauseous, Phil’s voice or him saying Daniel. “Well what’s so different about me?” Phil asked and Dan just sat there for a moment, looking over the man in front of him.
It was then that this really started to set in for Dan, this wasn’t Phil. Not his Phil anyways. Some sort of strange version of the man he loved had crawled into his skin. It made his skin crawl. “You’re not Phil.” Dan stated plainly. It wasn’t a question but a fact that settled into the air without question. “Of course I am. Look at me.” But if Phil were to say that it would be so much more animated and loving. Not robotic and cold. Dan looked at the bottle blond with suspicion. It certainly looked like Phil but he was adamant. This was not his Phil Lester.
“No. You’re really not. Stop lying to me.” Dan spoke flatly and could tell the latter sentence still had the same effect on this Phil as his own because it seemed to be at that moment where he decided to do exactly as Dan had said: stop lying. “Fine, I’m not the Phil Lester you know.” He admitted and looked away. Dan didn’t want to ask any questions other than one. The most important by far. “Is my Phil coming back?” He queried and got a sharp look in return. “God, I hope not.” Phil scoffed. Dan’s eyebrows furrowed and he sighed. “Just promise me you won’t tell anyone.” Phil nearly begged and it was the most emotion Dan had seen this Phil display at all.
“Alright… but you do know people will figure it out sooner or later.” Dan warned. Their audience were like FBI agents and this Phil was so very different that Dan wasn’t even sure if he was capable of playing it up for the camera. “Shut up.” Phil’s tone was sharp as a thorn so Dan backed off.
Dan spent the rest of the day in their shared office. Phil had no intentions of doing any work so someone had to get some editing done, not to mention both of their very full inboxes. Thankfully, most important emails were addressed to both of them. He missed having Phil next to him to complain or ask what he wanted from deliveroo. He just tried to keep his mind off of it. Phil was somewhere else in the house and from their earlier interaction Dan figured that was for the best.
However, when it reached 9pm he thought the best idea would be to consult Phil about dinner. He was hungry and they still had to agree on something to eat. It was around now where he would usually get a message asking what he wanted from some restaurant or other but not tonight. He wandered around their home in search of Phil until he stumbled into the kitchen only to find Phil cooking. Actually using their fancy kitchen for once and he smiled, his mind having momentarily tossed away the memory of their earlier conversation.
All he could see right now was the man he loved cooking him dinner. It was such a sweet scene to him, standing in the doorway, lovestruck and smiling. He made his way across the kitchen and slowly wrapped his arms around Phil’s waist, who immediately tensed at the contact. “Relax, bub, it’s just me.” Dan hummed with his head on Phil's shoulder, no contact with his partner for about a week would do this to him. He usually was not a clingy person at all.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Phil spat, his tone the same as before. Dan felt his blood turn cold and his stomach drop. He remembered now. This wasn’t his Phil. No wonder he was cooking. He let go and stepped back, embarrassed. “Uh, sorry, forgot.” Dan mumbled in an attempt to explain himself but Phil still looked livid. “Sorry? Just sorry? That was disgusting! You… you, fag!” Phil spat once more and Dan shrunk in on himself. He’d heard that word enough times in his life where it really didn’t affect him anymore but when it was coming out of the mouth of his soulmate? He couldn’t stop the tears falling if he tried.
“Oh and now look at him, crying. I don’t care.” Phil rolled his eyes before turning back around to continue cooking. Dan wasn’t sure whether to leave or stay. He couldn’t stop his tears but even if this wasn’t his Phil the presence was still comforting to some degree. He stayed there quietly sobbing until Phil turned back around, knife in hand. “You’re so annoying, you know that?” Dan couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, he just looked at Phil with tears in his eyes and streaming down his cheeks. “I love you.” Dan managed but that was certainly a mistake.
“Now that really is gross, puff.” Phil stepped forward with the kitchen knife still tightly gripped in his hand. “Just shut up, would you?” Phil snapped. He took another small step forwards and cornered Dan against the counter. "Phil, what’re you doing?” Dan asked, despite being the taller of the two he felt tiny right now. “Shutting you up.” Phil mumbled but Dan heard him clear as day. For a brief moment he though Phil might kiss him. Oh, how wrong he was.
Dan looked at Phil with his eyes filled with tears and love, then he felt a sharp pain in his stomach and doubled over in pain. He cried out and placed a hand on Phil's shoulder for support. “Phil… what? Please! I’m sorry!” He begged but he felt the knife being pulled out and shoved back into the plush pale skin of his stomach. Blood dripped down his legs and pooled at his feet. His clothes would surely be stained with the stuff. Not that that mattered. He was sure Phil’s intent here was death. What was his need for clothes if he couldn’t even breathe?
Dan could feel it just as intensely as the first time every time Phil dug the pointed object into his stomach. The blood of blood only grew larger and larger. Dan felt lightheaded. The only thing playing through his mind were memories of his Phil. The one that had saved him from this fate 16 years ago. He was completely removed from the idea that the man actively murdering him was Phil.
He cried out once more at a particularly deep wound being penetrated once again. He begged for this to end. Whether that be with his death or Phil stopping he wasn’t too sure. Phil got impatient with how long this was taking and he was clearly getting annoyed with Dan’s cries. He dragged the sharp edge up to Dan’s chest and he simply couldn’t move. Phil had him trapped. The shallow cut from his stomach to his chest leaked a small amount of the same red liquid that littered their kitchen floor but he really couldn't even feel it with the overwhelming pain from the stab wounds still pouring the blood out of his body.
Dan begged some more as Phil looked at him and brushed a curl out of his face before looking him in the eyes and plunging the knife deep into Dan’s chest. Dan screamed from the pain as blood dripped from the wound, the knife still inside of him. “Shut it.” Phil barked, still holding eye contact. Dan tried to speak but then Phil pulled the knife out and blood started to pour. That was the final straw. Dan’s vision went, then his hearing, and the rest of his senses followed suit. His life flashed before him for several moments. His achievements, time well spent with his Phil and then nothing. Darkness. His mind blank for the first time in 34 years. He had fallen to the floor, in a curled up position similar to that he assumed on the first day of school when he was kicked in the stomach by an older boy.
It was symbolic really. He had spent his youth as a scared little gay boy and that’s how he spent his final moments too. It didn't matter how much he had healed, how much therapy he had done, when put back into this position he reacted the same, and now? He was dead. The articles practically wrote themselves. He had a funeral plan at least, though he really did not think that this Phil would care about that, he’d probably just dump his body in the Thames and move on. Disgusting he had called him.
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
Phil went right back to cooking, he could deal with that mess later. He ate his dinner as if nothing had happened. He slipped into a light sleep after he’d finished eating but when he opened his eyes they were blue again. He was Phil again. Phil who stole cereal and never closed the cupboards. He stretched and looked at the bowl beside him. He thought he should take it through, Dan would get annoyed if he didn’t. The last sort of week felt a bit hazy in his mind but he attributed that to the fact that he’d just woken up.
“Daaaan.” Phil called out as he walked through the hall to reach the kitchen. “Daaaa- WHAT THE FUCK.” He was midway through calling for his lover when he opened the kitchen door to see the mess of blood and Dan on the floor. Phil dropped the bowl onto the floor, it smashed, he didn’t care. He rushed over to see Dan, the bloody knife abandoned on the floor next to him. Tears flooded his eyes. He couldn’t see Dan's chest rising or falling. He still checked for a pulse though he already knew the answer. No.
“No… no. Please, Dan. Please. You’re alright, You’re fine!” Phil tried to reason but Dan wasn’t fine. Anything but really. Phil could see the many blood stained wounds and he sobbed. “No! Please, no.” Phil didn’t understand. He could see what had happened but he still didn’t know how. Did Dan do this to himself? Had someone broken in whilst he was asleep? He didn’t know but it was clear he’d been like this for a while if the dried and crusty blood spoke for anything. “Dan… please, wake up. Please.” His voice broke. He knew that no matter how much pleading and begging he did Dan was gone for good. That didn’t stop him from doing it though.
Phil sat there for hours. He screamed and cried and begged. His tears mixed with Dan’s slowly drying blood. His clothes were soaked in the stuff from kneeling beside Dan and hugging him tightly, shaking him some more too. He knew his finger prints would be everywhere now but he didn’t care. He'd much rather rot in jail than live in the house he built with Dan without him.