Phil's P.O.V
--

I hadn't really been myself since I saw that post.

I was just scrolling through twitter, trying to reply to as many tweets as possible, when I saw it. One of my followers had tweeted it to me, saying to ignore what the person was saying, that I was 'perf'.

After seeing the post, it was all I could think about. Was the person who said it right? Yeah, Dan had always been considered the hotter one of us, but no one had ever called me 'hideous'. Was I unneeded? Unwanted, even? Because not being needed is something I could fix, but not being wanted? That was on a completely different level.

I managed to find the link to the user's tumblr page - 'danhowell4ever'. A few of my fans had stuck up for me, which meant something at least. The girl was asked how she'd feel if she was in my shoes, and she simply replied "I don't care". Another person asked her what she thought I'd do if I saw the post, and she said "Maybe he'll realize how useless and pathetic he really is."

Now, I was all for someone expressing their opinion, and if she didn't like me, that was fine. But there was having an opinion and there was being an absolute dickhead over it. What she said was totally uncalled for. It made me feel really, really bad about myself. I suddenly realized that I was weird, I was boring, I was all of those things she said.

"You ready to go?" Dan asked, grabbing his keys from the kitchen table. I snapped out of my daydream and put on my biggest smile. I didn't want him thinking I was down again or he'd ask if I'd hurt myself lately. I hadn't until the morning I read the post. I'd been doing so well too.

"Yeah." I pulled on a jacket over my hoodie and followed him out the door.
--

"This is Dan and Phil signing off; see you again guys!" Dan said into the microphone. The show was finally over. I just wanted to go to bed again, to try and sleep away the weird and depressing thoughts I'd been having. I was trying to be happy during the show, but I knew myself that I looked undeniably sadder than I usually did.

"Bye!" I said into my microphone, taking off my radio headset. We said goodbye to the staff and began walking out to the car.
--

I was silent for most of the journey until I noticed Dan was taking the long route home, something he never did.

"Where're we going?" I asked, glancing at him in the moonlight. My head was resting against the window so it was hard to get a proper view of him. I straightened myself up and saw his face was unusually worried looking.

"I'm going to keep driving until you tell me what's wrong." I was a bit taken aback, but thankfully he couldn't see my face. He always knew when something was wrong; but then again, of course he did. We'd only been going out for a few days, but he knew me better than I knew myself.

"Nothing's wrong." I said, smiling at him. He pulled to a halt suddenly, making me lurch forward in the passenger seat.

"You said that before. When you were denying your self harm. Tell me what's going on." He sounded so genuinely angry, I was actually just a little scared of him. He never acted assertive around me. Even when he found out about my self harm, he never raised his voice to me.

"Nothing's going on!" I tried to shout like he had, but I failed miserably. In the dim light I doubted he could see my eyes misting over. I tried to blink the tears away but I just wanted to cry.

"Let me see your arms. I'll drop it if you do." He said, grabbing my arm. I winced involuntarily. I hoped he hadn't noticed, but he did. "Let me see your arms. Now." He let go of my arm to allow me to take off my jacket.

I let out a shaky breath and unzipped my jacket. I shrugged out of it before carefully rolling up my hoodie sleeve. I couldn't bear to look at my scarred arm; especially since I'd torn it to shreds the morning of the post.

Dan didn't say anything, he just traced my scars with a careful finger. It didn't hurt but it didn't feel nice either. He took my hand in his and squeezed it tightly.

"Fuck...why'd you do this to yourself? I thought you were finally getting better and all... To relapse is something, but to relapse like this..." He trailed off. For some reason, it made me really angry.

"I'm sorry we're not all as perfect as you then!" I couldn't help it, even if it was being a little harsh. It was true though. I felt bad enough about falling back into self harming, I didn't really need him telling me how disappointed he was too.

"What're you talking about?" He asked, his grip on my hand tightening. I really didn't want to be around anyone just then, but he was so much stronger than I was. If I told him, he'd leave me alone.

"I'm talking about that post."

"What post?"

"The one that points out how much better than me you are!" My voice cracked and I just fell apart. I started crying then, the tears falling onto my knee. I couldn't look at Dan because I felt so pathetic.

Dan, on the other hand, was silent. He was probably looking for the post that had set me off again. It was such an easy thing to do, after all. It was a good ten minutes before he spoke again.

"You're not any of these things. You're funny. You're beautiful. You're strong. You're amazing. Some little shithead made this post to try and hurt you. Don't let them have their way." His voice was so soft and emotional, it was really amazing. But he was just being nice, because boyfriends had to be nice.

"You don't mean any of that." I mumbled, still refusing to look at him. I could barely see anything with the tears in my eyes anyway.

He grabbed my chin in his hand and forced me to look at him. The moonlight made him look so serious. He was an unbelievably beautiful person. Brown eyes, tanned skin, dimples...ah, perfection. And what did I have that made me beautiful? Plain, black hair. Pale skin. Boringly blue eyes. I couldn't even compare to Dan.

"Yes, I do. For every one dickhead like this, there're ten people who love you to pieces. So what if she doesn't like you? She's one of those Dangirls. And you know how much I hate them, don't you?"

"I'm unwanted." I said, my voice small.

"Of course you're wanted, you tit. Your fans, all six hundred thousand of them want you. Your family want you. Chris and PJ want you. I want you, Phil." And he kissed me then, the first kiss we'd shared since we started going out. I was still crying and he was still holding my hand, but it was okay. Everything was okay.

I let him pull me into a hug, even if it wasn't exactly comfortable. I felt warm and safe in the crook of his neck, so the handbrake poking into my back was worth it. I was starting to feel tired; the radio show always took so much out of me.

Dan started rubbing my hair, which calmed me down. The last thing I heard before I fell asleep was "You're wanted, you're wanted, you're wanted..."