Fix It

Daniel’s head rested against the car window; his eyes glued to the pitch-black surroundings zooming past him. He and Michael drove down the empty road, his boyfriend's jet-black car blended into the environment perfectly.

Dan could feel Michael's glances being thrown his way. He had something to say, that was clear, but for some reason, he kept quiet. It's been that way the entire drive back home. Though Daniel didn't mind it that much. He'd rather just not talk at that moment, especially not to the dirty blond who was sitting in the driver's seat next to him.

Nothing had happened between them; Mikey had done nothing wrong. Yet for some reason all that filled Daniel was dread. He'd probably prefer if they had actually gotten into a fight, that way he had at least some reason to feel that way. But there was just nothing.

Something just wasn't right.

The song on the radio switched from a pop song that he didn't know to Fast Car. God was Daniel thankful that the thing was on. He didn't know if he would be able to manage an hour-long car ride otherwise, stewing in that thick atmosphere, one that he created for himself. 

Michael's fingers tapped against the steering wheel in rhythm with the song, while he sang along with the lyrics. His voice was soft, hushed as he sang, though Daniel attempted not to pay attention to that. It just made the strange feeling bubble up from inside him, though he did his best to suppress it.

"Dany, you alright? You’re a bit spaced out tonight."

The nickname cut deep within his chest. There was one thing he knew for sure; he didn't want to tell him how he was feeling, about the doubt and dread swirling around in his. It was a weird phase that he was in. He wasn't about to worry his boyfriend about something that would pass in a few hours anyway.

He plastered on a smiling face, the best one his tired self could muster while he prayed that it looked genuine. "Yeah, I'm okay, I was just daydreaming a bit, sorry."

"It's okay, as long as you're alright. You just haven't moved or said anything for so long that I thought I might be driving around with a statue."

Dan forced out a chuckle as his gaze fell to his dirty white shoes. He felt bad for lying to his boyfriend, for faking his emotions, but it was all done in an attempt to not hurt him. It just wouldn't be fair. Even with that, it was still lies.

Nothing more was said between them. Michael went back to singing along with the song, while Daniel wrapped himself tighter into the jacket and turned back to the window, hiding his face away. Doubt wouldn't leave him alone.

The jacket he was wearing smelled of Michael. Of course it did– it was his after all. That was the reason why Dan used to love it so much– it made him feel closer to the dirty blond, it was a constant reminder of him, even when they were apart. Unfortunately, that was the point– he used to feel all these things. But now there was just... nothing.

Well, there was something. Guilt– the one that laced itself within the pits of his stomach. That jacket– the same thing that used to bring him so much comfort now felt like it was made of lead, weighing him down, trapping him in place. The longer it sat on top of him, the longer Michael's scent would linger on him, just further pushing the guilt inside of him.

"I'm tired of this," he mumbled. The thought just slipped out of his mind he didn't intend to say it out loud. He just hoped that Michael hadn't caught it. It was supposed to be just an intrusive thought, one he let go of the moment that it came in.

"Sorry, I wasn't listening. Did you say something?" Michael's voice rang through the car. Relief washed over the brunet. He was in the clear. 

"No I'm tired, that's why I'm out of it."

But in the back of his mind, he knew it was just another lie.

***

That feeling didn't go away as Daniel hoped it would. As the days went on, it had gotten stronger. And now there he stood in his apartment, staring at the photo of the two of them that laid framed in his hands.

It was taken on the day they got together; 18 months ago. Michael had his arm thrown haphazardly around Dan’s shoulder, pulling him to himself and kissing his temple while Dan took the picture, a wide smile visible on his face. It all seemed so perfect at the time. Even looking at it now, it radiated off that energy.

Now the fuzzy feeling that always rose up in his chest was gone and the emptiness that manifested in its place was eating him from the inside. It just wasn't right.

He hadn't seen Michael for two weeks; he'd left for a trip to New York. Daniel hated to admit it to himself, but those past weeks had been the most right he had felt in a while. He was free– a burden had been lifted from his shoulder.

But even with that, he stood in his kitchen at 1 am with their picture in hand and a heaviness pressed atop his chest. This wasn't okay anymore. In just a week Michael would be back. And Dan didn't know how much longer he would be able to pretend that everything was okay.

This... thing they had; it wouldn't be able to last much longer. And to try to keep it up while it's continuously crumbling apart, it just wouldn't be fair to him, it wouldn't be fair to Michael. 

But they had been together for so long. They couldn't just throw all that time, all that energy away. They couldn't give up the fight. It was inevitable at that point, but he was stalling.

Daniel’s finger ran down their faces in the photo. The glass was smooth against his skin, grounding him a little, bringing him out of his head. Suddenly, a loud ringing echoed through the room. And quickly, it was followed by shattering glass as the frame slipped from his hold and collided with the floor.

It was Michael who was calling, knowing he wouldn't be asleep. Daniel didn't get up to pick up the call. He stood still among the shattered pieces surrounding him.

He didn't know how to fix it.

Any of it.

***

Michael's whole body ached as his eyes fluttered open, momentarily blinded by the lights of the room. Confused, he rubbed the sleep off his eyes, straightened his back, causing it to crack. He could barely remember anything that happened the previous night.

His blurry gaze scanned the room he was in. A hotel room in New York. Slumped over a desk. He must've fallen asleep the previous night.

A small digital clock rested on the table and as soon as Michael's gaze landed on it, the bright numbers it was displaying switched from 3:59 to 4:00. Four o'clock in the morning and he was up already. 

He got up from the desk with heavy steps, turned the lights off, and collapsed onto the soft bed. There was still a chance of him falling back asleep if he did it immediately. His eyes closed and waited for sleep to take over.

... That didn't work out.

For some reason, his body thought it was completely reasonable to pass out on the desk, but now that he was in an actual bed, by far the more superior option of the two, his mind just wouldn't shut up. It just saw it as a free-range where it could let his thoughts run wild, like a bunch of frat boys at a party. Though instead of getting drunk enough to die of alcohol poisoning, it decided to overthink everything going on. He'd rather take the poisoning than having to listen to his thoughts for a minute.

It felt like hours had passed and sleep still hasn't taken over Michael, his eyes flew open in frustration once again. He just wanted to sleep. He felt around for his phone, turning it on as soon as he got it in his grip. 4:17. Fucking great.

He contemplated turning around, attempting to fall back asleep, but he gave up on that thought. Instead, he sat upright, crossing his legs while his eyes latched onto the window by the bed. Giant skyscrapers were the only thing he could see for miles. Each of the buildings had at least a few of its windows lit up, creating a mosaic of white and yellow-tinted lights. He was very much out of his element.

The glass was cold on his skin as he pressed his hand against the windowpane. A somber heaviness swarmed his chest as he watched the traffic in the streets. He hadn't been this homesick in a while, even though he tended to travel a lot.

He didn't belong in a busy city. He wanted to be back home, with Daniel. He missed him, a lot. One more week and he'll be back.

A breath escaped him as he stared outside. Something was wrong with Daniel, and it bothered him that he didn't know what it was. They had planned on calling a few times while he was gone, but it barely ever worked out. Almost every time he called Dan wouldn't pick up. He'd send him a text a while later, saying that he was busy, that something came up.

The few times that they managed to get on a call, something was off. Michael didn't know what, but the brunet seemed so... queasy, detached at times and it was starting to worry him. He'd never been in such a state before, the fact that he was shutting him out couldn't be a sign of anything good.

His gaze fell onto the phone resting beside him. He should try calling Dan now. Though a part of him believed that it would be pointless, telling him not to get his hopes up, that he wouldn't pick up anyways. That Dan probably didn't love him anymore.

He had to physically shake his head to push the thought back. How did his mind even come up with that? Now a bit more reluctant, he dialed Dan’s number. And it started to ring.

It rang.

It rang.

It continued to ring.

Michel lost count of how many times it beeped before the call cut off. His body fell backward onto the bed, he covered his face with a pillow, groaning into it. What did he expect? He shouldn't have gotten his hopes up.

It was 4 am, meaning that back home it would be around 1 when he called. There was a chance that he was asleep. Though Daniel’s has had trouble with insomnia for years, he barely ever fell asleep before 3 am.

A lump started growing in his throat. He needed to take deep breaths. He was just overthinking again, there wasn't a need to panic. Though at this point it was getting hard to ignore everything that was going on.

What if his thoughts were right?

***

Their reunion upon Michael's return went as well as his anxious side predicted. It seemed more like acquaintances bumping into each other and making awkward small talk rather than lovebirds seeing each other for the first time in three weeks.

They decided to head over to Mikey's place after Dan picked him up from the airport, just hang out for a while. So, there they sat on the bleach blond's couch, watching a movie. One that neither cared much for, but both paid some of their attention to, just to avoid the tension that had been building up between them.

It was then that Daniel let out a sigh before turning the tv off and turned to face the man sitting beside him. "I think we need to talk," he said, his hazel eyes glued to the coffee table, attempting to avoid Michael's.

Fuck. Icy panic crept down the younger man's spine. Nevertheless, he sucked in a sharp breath before turning his attention on Dan. "I think we need to as well."

The brunet's brows raised slightly, knitting themselves together as he turned his gaze toward him. "Alright then, go first."

Michael's mouth opened slightly, but no words came out of it. Fuck, how was he going to explain his concerns for him? He'd never had trouble sharing his thoughts on anything with Daniel, he made that shit so easy. But now- it just wasn't for some reason.

He took another deep breath, closing his eyes. In his mind, he sorted out his thoughts. Daniel had been acting weirdly and he was worried about him. That was all he wanted to talk about. So why was he tongue-tied all of a sudden? It shouldn't be difficult to say it aloud.

"Michael?"

"I – sorry," another deep breath “I’m worried. About you. I don’t know what’s going on, you just seem withdrawn all of a sudden, it’s scaring me cause I’ve never seen you act like that and when I was gone we barely talked and I know that it’s probably me overthinking, but I got scared that I’m somehow driving you away and I wanted to finally talk to you about that, it’s been bugging me for so long and I’m scared that I’m going to lose you.” He blurted out, out of breath once he was finished.

Even though he had just spilled out a bunch of word vomit it seemed to strike something within the brunet. He got tenser, his shoulders straining. "I wanted to talk to you about that too." Why Daniel was so stressed all of a sudden, Michael didn't know. But it sure as fuck didn't help his anxiety.

"Go on."

It took a bit before Dan managed to find his voice, when he did, it was somehow unsure sounding yet determined at the same time. Something that probably only he could pull off. "Sorry, I don't know where to even start. I – for the past few weeks I've been thinking and – this isn't right anymore."

Anxiety spiked up inside of Michael as he listed to his stammering boyfriend, confusion seeping into his body. Inside of his head, there was a mess that no matter how hard he attempted to shut down only got stronger. "What are you talking about?"

The older man cupped his own face, wiping away the tears that had started forming in the corners of his eyes. Without even thinking about it, Mikey placed a comforting hand on top of his knee, causing Daniel’s head to snap in his direction, his lips pursed into a straight line. Though nevertheless, he still placed his own hand over Mikey's, squeezing it lightly.

"I'm probably going to sound like such an asshole. But... while you were gone, I've had a lot of time for myself, it gave me the opportunity to really think about us.  And... I don't think this relationship has been working for a while now. I promise that I've tried to push this feeling down, and pretend like everything okay, but it's not. And it isn't fair to either of us."

It was then when Michael started tuning out all the sounds. It wasn't intentional, no matter how hard he tried focusing on his words, he just couldn't. His anxiety was right, and fuck, he wished it wasn't.

He didn't know how or what he was supposed to feel. It was too much. A part of him wanted to get up and just start screaming his anger into oblivion, another one wanted to cry until the skin around his eyes was raw. A part was numb, sitting there, letting the emotions pass through him and slip into a black hole.

It's not like this was coming out of nowhere; he – or at least his anxiety had suspected it was around the horizon for a while now. Yet it still hit him like a fucking train.

"Michael," Daniel’s voice was the thing that brought him out of the trance. Once he wiped the blurriness away from his eyes he was met with Dan’s face, one that was covered in tears as well. "Please, just say something."

"I –," Michael's breath hitched in his throat. He was such a mess. They both were. "Why?"

"I wish I had the answer to that. I just... I don't feel the same way as I used to. I promise you, it's nothing that you did, far from it, you were the best that I could ask for, I just can't do this anymore. I'm sorry." After saying that, Dan wrapped his arms around Michael, pulling the shocked man closer to him. All that the bleach-blond could do was bury his head in the crook of the other man's neck, wishing to be anywhere but there.

And so there they sat for who knows how long, sobbing into each other, sharing each other's pain. It was bitter-sweet having Daniel so close to him, his fingers tangling into his hair to soothe him. It was one of the things Dan did best, and the realization that this might be the last time he would experience this made him just sob harder.

After what must've been at least an hour later, the brunet pulled away, his eyes boring into Michael's own. His hands cupped the blond’s face, making it impossible for him to look away.

"I'm so sorry. Thank you for loving me." As those words left his mouth, Daniel placed a kiss atop Michael's forehead before he let go and walked out the door of the apartment, leaving Michael all alone.

Leaving him in pieces.

He didn't know how to fix this.