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“I cant do it, Phil,” Dan said.“What d’you mean?” Phil asked, without breaking his stride.They were walking down a commercial sidewalk downtown, the stone beneath their feet shiny and sleek. Dan fixed the hood of his jacket, pulling it further up his face to block the rain, squinting up at the yellow streetlights and cars that glittered and blended together.Nothing here could fix this sinking feeling in his chest. He knew what this was, and the way it would linger for weeks until it finally passed, and he just didn’t have the energy to fight it. Not today, at least.He stopped walking, eyes fixed on the rainy nightlife in front of him. A group of people passed him on his right. While he knew there were voices all around him, the sound was dampened by the rain.Standing there for a second, he shifted his gaze back to the sidewalk where Phil was walking back towards him with a look of disappointment.“Dan?”“I can’t go,” Dan said. He met Phil’s eyes.“Sure you can,” said Phil.“Look, I know you set this all up, but I just… I’m not feeling well, okay?”“It’s your birthday,” Phil argued. “This is supposed to make you feel better.”They both knew Dan was slipping. It happens slowly at first, but Phil knew the signs like the back of his hand but it seemed that the demons inside of his best friend were a mystery to them both.It just doesn’t work like that, Dan thought, growing hopeless suddenly.Phil shoved his hands in his pockets, sighing. He looked around for a second. “Can’t you just enjoy a night with friends? Would that really hurt you so much?”Dan stared, a quiet dread creeping up on him. Phil doesn’t understand— he’d never understand, and Dan would always be alone in this pain. The world was losing saturation, and he squinted up at the gently glowing street lamps, willing this to not happen.He didn’t blame Phil for this; he knew he didn’t mean any harm. Phil did his best, and his best was normally enough for Dan, but sometimes this sickness inside of him couldn’t be reasoned with. Sometimes sickness was all that was there.“I can’t,” he repeated, voice small as he looked up at Phil through the rain. With one last look he turned around and started home.—Except, he didn’t go home. Within the four depressing walls of his room was the last place he wanted to be right now. Sure, it was cold and wet and dark out here, but even that was better than the stillness and silence of his room. The silence reminded him of death, of the eternity of it and the shortness of life, and how he was wasting his youth away, losing his years to this mind of mental illness.So yeah, it was better out here in the cold.He wandered to another city square, with lights of neon flashing in his eyes, and suddenly there were loads of young university kids. A college bar scene. They ran through the rain with pints of beer in hand, and they laughed and danced and Dan couldn’t help but feel a pain in his chest because that happiness he saw on their faces would always be so out of reach for him. It was like everyone else knew something that he didn’t.He kept walking and left the noise of the pub streets behind him, and suddenly he came to a bridge that ran over a canal. The water rushed beneath him, river swelling with the night of rain, and for a moment all the sound in his head could be drowned out.He traced his vision up the canal as far as he could see, to the rows and rows of busy streets criss-crossed above it. Suddenly, he was very small in the vastness of this ancient city.But the sound of the water rushing by muffled everything, and he sat down on the stone with his feet dangling off the bridge.He didn’t know how long he sat there, staring at the swirling water, leaning into the rare quiet in his mind, but at some point he heard footsteps behind him. This street had been relatively empty of pedestrians, so he turned around.He looked Phil up and down, and then sighed before turning his head back.“How did you find me?” Dan asked, voice quiet.“I checked your location after I got to the pub,” he murmured.“What’d you tell everybody?”“Nothing, really. Just that you weren’t feeling well.”Dan swallowed, guilt crawling up his throat. He felt bad that all of his friends came out here to celebrate him, and he couldn’t even bother to show up. He knew he would regret this later; after all, you only turn 30 once. But he just couldn’t find it in himself to be happy.“I really think spending time with friends would be good for you right now,” Phil said, crouching down next to him.“I don’t think so,” Dan breathed. “I know you’re trying, Phil, but just… stop.”Phil was speechless for a moment, analyzing Dan’s expression and the sadness in his eyes. He got a guilty feeling, suddenly, like maybe everything he was doing wasn’t going to work. Maybe he had no idea how to help Dan out of this hole he’d dug himself into. Once again, this devils inside of him were nothing short of a mystery to Phil.He still couldn’t find the words, but sat down on the stone walkway next to Dan anyways, as if silently saying that he’ll be there with him.“Sorry,” Phil said finally.“You don’t have to—““I wanted to help. I thought this would help.”“I know,” Dan whispered.“I don’t understand, do I?”The darkness in Dan’s chest swelled, threatening to consume everything, because that was exactly it. Phil didn’t understand.And right now it felt like it would always be like this, like he would always be letting people down, like he would always feel so far away from everyone else, even the person who knew him best in this life.He gave Phil a glance, hoping his eyes didn’t betray this feeling.But Phil wasn’t looking at him, though, and instead gazed over at the bridges that cross the canal up head. Dan felt a twinge of bitterness.“When I’m feeling down, I want to be around people,” Phil said, almost like he was thinking out loud. “But you seem to not want to do anything.”“It’s not that I don’t want to do anything,” Dan muttered.“Then what is it?”Dan swallowed, frustration tugging at him but he kept it down. “I can’t,” he mumbled. “You don’t get it. I don’t have any control.”“You don’t if you keep telling yourself you don’t.”Dan stared at him for a moment, this feeling of isolation growing.“Yep,” Dan said sharply, emotionally drained. He was tired of trying to explain it and Phil clearly wasn’t in the business of trying to listen, and he pulled himself up by the railing. “You’re right, Phil,” he said darkly as he stood up.“Hey!” Phil said, twisting around to see where Dan was going. He scrambled up.Dan was already booking it down this dark street, hood over his head and hands stuffed in his pockets.“Hey, stop it,” Phil called, cursing under his breath before chasing after him. “I’m sorry!”Dan turned around, glaring. “Leave me alone.”Phil searched his face for something more than anger, but didn’t find it. He knew he messed up, but how to fix it? How could he fix what he didn’t understand?“How can I help?” Phil asked, and it sounded more like a plea.“I don’t think you can,” Dan said, and he started to turn away.“It doesn’t have to be like this, you know.”Dan froze, hopelessness surging once again. “Don’t,” he warned, voice low.“Just come with me, we can go home—“Dan pointed to his forehead, stepping close to look in Phil’s eyes, feeling himself approach his breaking point. He pointed to his forehead, muscles clenched. “This,” he said through gritted teeth, “This is a sickness. And there’s nothing I can do about it.” His voice shook and he set his jaw forward.He was close enough to see the pain that glittered in Dan’s eyes, and he couldn’t help but think about how sad this was. How he was watching his friend slip away into his sickness, unable to slow the fall.“And do you want to know something?” Dan asked, bitterness dripping from his words but it started to sound more like despair. “Every time, every time I start feeling like this, I think this will be the one that takes me down. This will be the one that I can’t get myself out of.”There was suddenly a tightness in Phil’s chest, put there by guilt and fear, and he couldn’t find the words to respond. The gravity of Dan’s depression was creeping up on him, like a realization he didn’t want to admit.“Let’s go home,” he whispered, trying to hide the fear.“Phil, I don’t want to go home,” he whispered, tense. “I don’t want to go home, I don’t—“ he cut off, and Phil looked up to see the first tears fall down Dan’s face. Phil couldn’t help but wonder what the hell happened between last week and today for things to get this bad.Dan was staring at him with some desperate look, eyes glistening with tears, mouth parted as he breathed hard, fighting a battle Phil couldn’t even see.“Okay, that’s fine,” Phil answered with a whisper, running his hand under his nose and glancing away before back at Dan. “That’s fine. We’ll stay here.”“I can’t,” Dan choked, bringing his hands up to cover his face, and right before he did Phil saw his face crumple. His frame shook with sobs, standing there as the gaslamps lit up the rain and as the street behind them was so peaceful as they stood there in the eye of the hurricane.The tightness in Phil’s chest grew. He wracked his brain for something to say, something that would change the course of tonight, but he was at a loss. And as he stood there watching Dan, helpless as he wept, he realized there was only one thing he could be right now. Be there for him.He surged forward, closing the space, and wrapped his arms around him. He held tight as Dan’s frame trembled and as he gasped for air around violent sobs.He could feel the way he shook as he held him so tight and so close, and it was like Phil could almost feel the hopelessness start to bleed into him like ink. But he wanted to take it all. If it made Dan stop hurting, he would take it all.For once, he didn’t need to give advice or solutions. He just needed to be here.“It’s alright,” Phil murmured.Dan leaned his head forward, resting his forehead on his shoulder. Phil could hear the quick, trembling sobs fall from become muffled by Phil’s jacket.“You’re not alone,” he said softly, running his fingers through the short hair at the top of his neck, giving him any and every chance to know that somebody else was here. “I’ve got you. I’m here with you.”Still, the sobs came as relentless as waves that pounded on the shore. Dan’s arms gripped him tight, crossed over his back, and for a moment Phil couldn’t believe how small he looked.God, he should’ve seen it coming. He should’ve known that they had a few too many months of peace. Phil cursed himself, at the way he willingly ignored the age-old signs of depression creeping in, maybe because he didn’t want to believe that Dan could be sick again.“I’m sorry,” he whispered, leaning his head on Dan’s.Dan only squeezed him tighter.“I know it hurts,” Phil said, shaking. “But I’m here with you.”He didn’t know how long they stood there, but after a while he noticed the sharp gasps of air grow fewer and further between as Dan slowed down and loosened his grasp.Eventually, he lifted from where he was pressed against Phil’s chest, and then wiped his face with his sleeve. He didn’t break the hug, though.“I can’t stay here and I can’t go home,” Dan whispered, resting his chin on Phil’s shoulder.“Mhm,” Phil said.“So where am I going to go?”“Back to the doctor, for one,” Phil mumbled.Dan nodded and shut his eyes, giving them another rub before stepping back, then ran his hands through his hair.Phil studied his face, and the weariness that settled into his cheekbones, and the way his eyes were bleary and red-rimmed but not quite as hopeless as before.“Whatever you want to do, I’ll do,” Phil promised softly. “If you want to sit here for a bit, or…”“The canal was pretty nice,” Dan murmured, tired.Phil nodded, turning to glance up the hill. “Do you want me to stay?”“‘Course I want you to stay,” he sighed, and then walked back towards the highest point of the bridge, Phil following behind.—The rushing water was soothing, and for a moment Dan almost felt like he might be okay. All he knew is he felt a little less alone.It didn’t mean that the depression wouldn’t still come, because he knew that it was like a steam-liner that just wouldn’t stop until it collided with the shoreline, and the thought of fighting that battle again took the breath from his lungs.“Why does this happen to me?” He whispered, but it sounded more like a whimper. Self-pity was a slippery slope to slide down.Phil took a deep breath. “I don’t know, Dan,” he said softly.“It’s been like this for so long,” Dan trembled.“I know.”“I’m sorry,” Dan whispered, after a minute, and Phil hated to watch him struggle like this. He hated the fear that encompassed them like a blanket.“It’s okay,” Phil murmured.“The sad part about all of this,” he whispered, “is I know I’m going to hate myself for it.”“For what?”“For wasting my time, for— for not going to the party, for being sad when I should’ve been happy. But I just… I can’t and— I hate myself for it.”“I know.”“And all I want is for this to go away,” Dan said, and his voice cracked. “But it won’t.”Phil nodded and decided to push his own worries aside. He cleared his throat, giving Dan a glance.“I won’t stop trying, though,” he said. “Just so you know.”“Trying what?” Dan huffed.“Trying to pull you back up,” Phil answered. “Out of your grave.”Dan didn’t respond, he gave a look of shock at Phil and his carefully chosen words.Because he was right about the grave. This path that Dan was heading down, of hopelessness and helplessness, only ended one way: with him two meters in the ground. Something’s got to give, or soon enough he’d be too far down that road to ever turn back around.“Okay,” he whispered hoarsely. For some reason, with Phil by his side, he finally felt like he had the energy to change. He leaned his head on Phil’s shoulder. “Give it your best shot.”Phil smiled, soft and sad, but there was a sense of timid hope. “I have an idea,” he said.“Do you,” Dan said softly.“Let’s go see the ocean,” Phil said, after sitting there in silence for a while.“What?”He looked over at Dan. “The Atlantic. Let’s go drive to it.”Dan stared blankly at him and then down at the canal water below. Driving for five hours to see more water sounded less than ideal.“Don’t you think it’ll be nice?”“But it’s already so late,” Dan countered. “By the time we get there it’ll be sunrise.”“Perfect,” he said. “Don’t worry, I’m driving.”Dan couldn’t help but crack a small grin. Phil was always so insistent.“I didn’t say I was going,” said Dan, but his voice was softer and lighter.“You didn’t say you weren’t,” Phil pointed out. “And besides, you did say you don’t want to go home.”Dan only smiled again, tired and drained, and leaned against Phil’s shoulder once more.“Whatever you say,” he breathed, as the river drowned it out.