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As he lay on the sofa with his partner making him tea, Phil thought about time travel.
His stupid bronchitis was kicking his ass. He was tired of being sick, he hadn’t even wanted to film today, so they had recorded something that was supposed to be light and easy, and instead had involved talking about the butterfly effect. One of the “would you push the button”s had been the ability to stop bad things from happening in the past, but you couldn't save Jimi Hendrix -- a stupid concept. Phil liked music, and he liked rock and roll, but Hendrix was far from the most important human being who had ever lived.
It would be nice to fix bad things, Phil thought. He could also picture himself stopping Thatcher from getting elected, preventing Elon Musk and Jeff Bezos from becoming millionaires. Or would that completely fuck up the world? Would that wealth have been redistributed amongst the people, or would it have gone to a worse human being, someone who became the next Hitler? Fuck, if he could time travel, was he legally obligated to kill Hitler?
“You look like you're spiking a fever again,” Dan said as he came into the room with a steaming mug. Phil didn't like tea that much, but Dan had a way of mixing in the lemon and honey that was so nice when Phil was sick.
“Just thinking,” Phil said as he sat up and took the cup.
“Thats dangerous,” Dan snorted, sinking onto the couch by Phil's cold toes.
“Fuck off.”
“Never.”
“I’m over here being existential, and you’re being a twat,” Phil sniffed, “I was always nice when you were ruminating on the meaning of life.”
“Stop stealing my brand then,” Dan said, taking a sip from his own mug. One of his hands rested on Phil’s ankle, thumb circling the knob of the bone, and Phil idly thought that if he lost this, he would simply implode.
You almost did, the anxious gremlin in Phil’s head reminded him. That fact haunted him constantly. He would be doing something completely unrelated, and his brain would just shove it to the forefront of his mind like the worst kind of intrusive thought: Dan tried to kill himself, Dan tried to kill himself, maybe Dan is killing himself right now and we missed all the signs, we don’t know Dan isn’t killing himself right now, Dan is dead.
Anxiety was a bitch.
Phil stared directly at his boyfriend, forcing himself to track the rising and falling of his chest with his eyes. He nearly lost this, a group of fucking pricks had tortured Dan until he didnt see a way out. Dan might have died that day in Wokingham and Phil would have never known what life was like with his other half.
He was suddenly struck with the memory of the day Dan told him about it; it had been during the making of Basically I’m Gay. Phil had only seen the part that talked about him, because the entire thing had been deeply personal to Dan, and he’d been keeping it close to his chest.
And then, Dan had walked in, eyes big and wet and laptop in hand. He’d asked Phil to read the section of his script he had just added, because he wanted opinions.
Phil had read it, and then he had slowly raised his eyes, and looked at his partner, who could not meet his eyes.
“Is this real?” Phil asked, and then, “sorry, stupid question, I don’t think you’re lying I just-”
“I took a bunch of pills one night when I was 14,” Dan said, still staring at the floor. “And then I panicked and made myself throw them up. I never saw a doctor or told anyone. You’re crying.”
“Of course I’m crying!” Phil shrieked. “You- Dan, Daniel, baby-”
“I should take it out of the script,” Dan said, “it’s too much-”
“For fuck’s sake-”
Phil grabbed his hands and squeezed, sobbing. “Dan, look at me, I don’t give two shits about the video right now.”
The moment when Dan had looked at him, the broken look in his eyes, still haunted Phil all those years later.
“I love you,” Phil said. “I love you, you are the love of my life, please never -- I wouldn’t know how to exist if you weren’t here.”
“I know that now,” Dan whispered, voice small and broken, “But I didn't have you then. I didn’t see any lights.”
“Well if you’re ever in the dark again, you come to me,” Phil had said, “I’ll tell you how important you are, I’ll drag you into the light by your hair. And if you still don’t believe me, I will -- I’ll bite you.”
“Bite me?!” Dan had laughed, shocked.
Dan had moved on. Later, he’d posted the video, and it'd done incredibly. Phil didn't bring it up again after that, but he'd never forgotten. He never moved past the icy cold fear that had gripped him in that moment.
In the present, on their couch in their forever home, another moment came to him, unbidden. I think 14 year old Dan and 14 year old Phil would have been friends.
“I would do it,” Phil croaked.
Dan looked over at him with raised eyebrows. “What are you on about?”
“The button,” Phil said, licking his lips. “The - the ‘you can stop bad things from happening but can't save Hendrix’ thing. I’d push the button.”
Dan blinked, then snorted. “Really determined to stop yourself from eating glue, huh?”
Right, Phil had made that joke for the camera, like a fool, like he wouldn’t take any chance to save his partner from the hell he had gone through.
“I could stop bad things from happening,” Phil said. “I could protect you.”
Dan softened immediately, so Phil continued. “I’ll fight those pricks at your school, I don’t even care if they hit me. I could scare them off so you never feel alone again, I could stop you from taking those pills-”
“Hey,” Dan said, shifting so he could lay on Phil’s lap and cup his face. “Hey, breathe.”
“I could help,” Phil sniffled, “I could help you.”
“You do help me, silly.” Dan said, shaking his head. “All of history behind you and you’d come help me instead of, like, stopping the atom bomb?”
“Fuck them, you’re more important.”
“Gay.”
“Shut up,” Phil said, pressing closer to Dan. “You’re more important. You’re more important than anything.”
Dan didn’t answer, thumb stroking Phil’s cheek, eyes big and brown and staring directly at Phil’s.
“Butterfly effect,” Dan said, “if I was a happy, well adjusted teenager, I might not have stalked my favorite youtuber online.”
“Worth it,” Phil said immediately. “You existing and being happy in the world matters more than anything.”
“Phil,” Dan said, voice a bit thick. “You can’t just -- you make me happy.”
“I would give anything,” Phil said, “anything to take some of the weight off your shoulders. You need to know that.”
“You’re running a fever,” Dan said, rolling his eyes. “You’re talking nonsense.”
“I mean it,” Phil insisted. “I’d smash that button. I’d absolutely destroy it if it helped you even a little.”
Dan sighed, but he shook his head with a little smile on his lips. “Sappy idiot.”
“Your sappy idiot,” Phil said, beaming at him.
“Yeah,” Dan kissed his forehead. “My sappy idiot. Don’t make yourself disappear from my life to save me, okay? I’d miss you too much.”
“Even if you hadn’t met me?”
“I’d know something was missing,” Dan said stubbornly. “I’d have to come looking for you, and that’s simply too much effort, so you have to stay here.”
Phil squeezed him in a hug. “Okay. I’ll stay if you do.”
“Deal,” Dan said. “Easiest choice in the world.”
Everything was worth it, if they had eachother.