Dan's POV (one year later)
"Then you're free to go, Mr. Howell." The psychologist grinned at me and I smiled too.
I felt better than I had in a long time. As good and healthy as I hadn't seen in years. Every breath felt good and fresh blood flowed in my veins. It was pure, my body was no longer poisoned. My head was clear.
I couldn't remember the last time I could think so clearly, see so clearly. And it got better every day.
I started exercising in the clinic, was as fit as probably never before in my life. Started eathing healthy, go to sleep at reasonable times, and woke up early and relaxed.
The daily routine here had done me so good that I was actually a little afraid to leave. I was afraid of losing it as soon as I had to take care of my life on my own again. But as I was told, that was normal. And it obviously wasn't bad if you actually slipped back into an everyday life that wasn't quite as healthy. It was human and none of us was perfect, the most important thing was that I changed my mindset.
I had been here for a year and of course that inevitably hadn't just changed me physically. At the beginning I had a therapy session every day and fuck yes, it had annoyed me so much that I would have preferred to leave after two days.
I had been prepared to open up, as I had to do with outpatient treatment at the time, but the drilling here was so deep and relentless, day after day, that I sensed that the collapse would not last long would be kept waiting.
And it came.
It came when I told about Phil.
About my friendship with him. From what we had built up together with Oliver. How we had fulfilled our dream together, were inseparable, thought the same, felt the same. Can communicate without speaking to each other.
How we should be overjoyed, but I never was.
How I always wanted more. Always needed the kick. I could never build on human relationships, but always sought refuge in things that couldn't disappoint me.
And then I fell head over heels in love with Phil.
It had overwhelmed me, engulfed me, and the feelings for him had been so violent and uncontrollable that I couldn't help but run away from it.
And then, when I had come to a standstill and finally felt ready to face them, I had landed here. In this clinic, way too far away from him. And all of a sudden, it caught up with me and I lost the certainty that I could ever free myself from that guilt.
Would I ever become a person you could depend on? A person who gave others more than he asked for? Who could give someone the feeling of security, of trust, on both sides? Would I ever really be able to have a stable relationship?
Even before the Phil story I didn't believe that I deserved any form of love. How could I? After having hurt the person I wanted most to be happy? Didn't I deserve even less now to experience all that?
I never wanted a relationship back then. My freedom, in which I could lead this self-willed life, always put above everything else. But after a few days here, during which I forced myself to engage in therapy, I realized more than ever before that exactly what I had avoided before was now all I wanted.
At that time I had thought to be loved was dangerous, but here I was broken and I understood that this was the only thing I needed and that it could save me.
It was so important for me to learn to love someone with full devotion, without always keeping a part of me for myself that I was guarding, like a biting, rabid dog that would attack anyone who came too close. Mauled everyone and left nothing of the person who tried to discover that hidden part. Just like I had done with Phil.
The closer we got, the more he saw of me, the more aggressive I became. In the end I despaired because it was so useless to try to hide anything from him when he already knew me inside out.
He had unmasked me and there was nothing left, no part of me that did not yet belong to him and when I noticed this, I became so panicky that I dragged everything around me into the abyss.
Here I had focused on recognizing the moment when I started to resist in this destructive way and I was shown how to allow and even appreciate not having to hide anything.
I understood that it was good for me, healing me, when this dog with its teeth no longer existed in me, which in the end hurt me the most, and I just loved instead. And it didn't matter who, in the first place.
It didn't matter if it was Phil who would be that person for me.
The person I gave my heart to and trusted to take good care of it.
The person who could perhaps hurt me, and possibly would, but who, in proportion, always enriched me far more than harmed me because he was just as willing to give me his heart.
This was probably the most painful and difficult realization of all.
To realize that it might not be Phil who would be the one person to give me all of this.
And that the life I had to face after the long time here would perhaps never be spent with him, at least not in a committed relationship, was almost unbearable. Even today, on the day I was allowed to leave the clinic, I had not yet fully accepted this thought.
So many times my psychologist had taught me that I should welcome everything that was waiting for me with open arms and that I shouldn't be blocked by the happiness I finally had to allow myself, even if it wasn't Phil. How often had she told me that. So many times.
My happiness must not depend on Phil.
I saw Oliver's car in the parking lot and forgot the thought for a moment, because I hadn't even seen him in those twelve months either. Before I had left, I had thought it was for the best, while I was in the clinic, not to be confronted with anything from my old life, which is why I had also asked him not to visit me.
Oliver got out and a big grin crept across my face as I pulled the suitcase behind me faster and faster on this relatively warm day and reached him soon after.
"Danny boy!" he exclaimed joyfully, took off his sunglasses and spread his arms.
I put the suitcase down and went into his exuberant embrace, in which he felt me almost crushed.
"Well?" I greeted him somewhat awkwardly after he had let me go. "How are you?"
"You're asking me that? I'm fine, but how are you?"
"Fine. I'm so fucking fine." I replied and an uncomfortable silence arose, in which it was probably decided whether we would continue to behave like the friends we had been before I came here, or whether something had changed between us. After all, twelve months was a fucking long time, especially when you had seen each other almost every day.
"It's a little weird." I decided to be honest and break the ice between us. "I've been away so long. I feel a bit queasy about it. I've just gotten used to it and, well, I don't know how much I rely on being controlled, if you know what I mean."
Oliver nodded understandably, but didn't answer anything until he packed my suitcase in the car, we both sat down and he drove off.
"So you mean you don't know if you might relapse now that you're on your own?"
"I mean, I don't know how I'll feel once I get home and deal with myself."
"You've been dealing with yourself for the last 12 months. That's what you were there for." Oliver replied and I frowned. "Listen, Dan. Think of all you've done already. Think positive, and don't start thinking about how you might fail again."
"Yeah, that's right, you're right." I looked to my left and watched him follow the traffic. I missed the peace and quiet he exuded. And not just since I'd been in rehab. "In fact, I think it's pretty impossible that I could forget myself and everything I've learned and go back to drugs."
"See, that's more like it." he said, smiling warmly at me.
"So how's it going with you? How's Youtube?" I changed the subject.
"It's okay." he muttered sadly. "I'm doing okay, but you're missing. Vidcon sucked without you." He laughed and I smiled weakly. "People miss you. The fans and our friends miss you. Maybe you should start doing videos again sometime. You know, when you feel like you're ready again."
"Yeah, maybe." I gave back faintly, although I had absolutely no intention of doing that. I didn't feel like I could.
I loved this job, but was it right for a person like me? Or rather, was I right for this job where others depended on me to function?
"We'll talk about it again sometime." I think Oliver felt there wasn't much he could do with me right now.
"Would you mind if, after I've taken my suitcase to my apartment, you could drop me off somewhere else?" I asked him while looking out the window and examining London, which I hadn't seen in such a long time.
"Where?" he wanted to be surprised.
No wonder, because normally you don't necessarily have many appointments on the first day after being in a clinic for months. And yet I thought he'd see right through me.
"Phil." I replied when he stopped at a red light at that very moment and looked at me with a look I couldn't really interpret. He seemed to be shocked at the same time, but also somehow as if he had guessed that this situation would arise.
"Are you sure this is such a good idea?" he then said and I hesitated for a moment before answering.
"Why not?"
"I mean, maybe you shouldn't take on so much at once. I mean, you've been gone so long."
"I won't faint just by looking at him." I laughed, but fell silent when he didn't tune in. "Oliver, he's still my best friend and it's only natural that I want to see him again. Don't worry, I'm not going to be completely overwhelmed by this after all that's happened."
"That's not what I mean, Dan. It's just that his life has changed too."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
He kept quiet and turned into the street where the house where I lived was. He looked at me for a moment until he sighed.
"Nothing, forget it. I'm just worried. You're right, you're still his friend." he blocked out. "Come on, let's take your suitcase upstairs and then I'll drive you to him."
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how did phil's life change, huh?