phan one shots

chamomile

Summary: Dan Howell is a trans boy going through his period, and Phil does his best to help him feel better. Warning, I'm not trans so please please please correct me if I write this the wrong way.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: depression, gender dysphoria, anxiety

"Fuck."

Panic seared Dan's chest as he observed the familiar brownish red liquid staining his underwear. "Fuck, fuck, fuck..."

He probably should have known. After all, it usually came around the same time each month. But for whatever reason, it hadn't come the month before, the occurrence probably related to his eating habits, which he admitted hadn't been the best during those past few weeks. But stupid of him to assume he would be in the clear. Of course it would come sooner or later. After all biologically he wasn't...

Dan shook his head, flinging the thoughts about his anxious mind as though he could throw them out of existence. Apprehension settled in a burning, acidic cloud in his chest, knocking on his heart, and breathing icy dread into his cramping stomach. Tears pricked unannounced at the corners of his eyes, and he squeezed them shut, twisting his plush bottom lip hard between his teeth and leaving puncture marks over the smooth, round flesh.

"God dammit!" He cried out in a moment of slight weakness, annoyed and distraught with his situation, angry with the world for placing him there. A frustrated flush flooded his daffodil kissed cheeks.

"Dan!" A familiar voice called out, worried words carrying throughout their shared home, muffled slightly by the door of the bathroom. "Are you alright?"

He sighed, gently sloping shoulders caving in on his lungs which felt scraped at and much too full underneath his knotted throat. "I'm fine!" He replied. His voice cracked at the end of the statement.

Good job dumbass, you're making him worry.

As expected, the sound of his footsteps making their way up the stairs made it to Dan's ears, and he barely resisted the urge to bang his head on the wall.

"Bear, what's going on?"

"I'm okay Phil." Dan attempted to reassure him, but he could already see the skepticism contorting his features.

"No, you're not." He hummed predictably, and the furious pounding of Dan's heart eased just slightly at his soothing voice.

He breathed out slowly, gazing heavenward. He glanced back towards his jeans which had pooled around his ankles, and carefully stepped out of them. With a disgusted crinkle of his nose, and pulled his soiled underwear back up, and stumbled ungracefully towards the door. With a heave, and pushed it open just enough to peek his head through. He was met with Phil's stunning blue eyes, memorizing oceans that churned with worry, glimmering as soon as they caught sight of him. His gaze flickered over Dan's face, his messy coffee brown curls sticking up in every direction from his fingers constantly running through them, the paleness that had drained the color from his skin. Except for the irritated, frustrated blush dusting his cheekbones. His eyes, a thick chocolate brown, rich and decorated with golds and burgundies and hazels, and bursting with anxious dread, slight fear, discomfort. He was overwhelmed, and Phil could see it. His lips were redder than usual, he supposed he had been worrying them. He tilted his head, leaning in far enough to feel Dan's quickened huffs of warm breath.

"What's wrong Dan?" He almost whispered, tone softened to a gentle melody. The younger man shifted a bit, pinching his lips together uncomfortably.

"Phil?" He asked in a hushed mumble. His lashes fluttered nervously. "Can you...can you get me some new underwear...please?"

Realization cast an instant shadow over Phil's features, eyes widening a bit before returning to their natural shape.