Dread had hung like a black cloud over my head since I saw Knuckles in the darkness, and had pushed all thoughts of Purple Shirt Guy out of my head. I clung to the corridors, breaking into a sprint if I had to travel too far from the safety of the buildings. Going home each day probably aged me twenty years. I kept expecting him to leap out from behind a bush with a machete or to sneak into my room at the dead of night or appear at my window when I opened the curtains in the morning.

The worst part was knowing that it would happen. That he would come and with certainty, just like the winter and the night. But not knowing when.

I'd been carrying a small penknife in my pocket to college each day. I didn't have a clue what I'd actually do with it when it came to it, but it made me feel a little safer.

*

"Phil! PHIL!" I screamed, catching him as he came down the steps, choking for breath.

"What's wrong?! Dan, are you okay?" He grabbed my shoulders.

"Knuckles and Gabes and Jake all came for me. Oh God. I was only alone for a second. I was late so I cut across the field and they just appeared out of nowhere and started coming at me and Gabes pulled out a fucking KNIFE and I just ran, oh, god Phil, we've got to get out of here. Please!" My voice was desperate and gasping.

"Dan – Dan calm down. We can't go anywhere, I have lessons- I, you'll be fine in college-"

"Please, Phil. Please, let's just get out of here. I can't take it anymore. I've been running for three days, I know they're going to hurt me and I just can't cope. Please, I just have to get out. Please, Phil." I whispered, hot tears pricking at the corners of my eyes.

Phil pulled my into a hug, rocking me backwards and forwards soothingly.

"Please, Phil," I repeated. "Just for one day. I have to get out."

He bit his lip. "Okay." He said quietly. "Let's go, quickly. Before my teachers notice I'm not there."

A little sob rose in my throat and I squeezed him thankfully.

*

We ran hand in hand without a backwards glance at the high brick walls of the college. We had no food and very little money, but I didn't care. We were escaping - if only for a day.

"Where do you want to go?" Phil asked, breathless from running by the time we reached the train station.

We grinned at each other, giddy with freedom.

"I don't know. I don't particularly mind either, so long as it's with you."

He rolled his eyes. "Soppy git." he giggled.

"How about the sea? The place you told me about, where you used to go to school? You promised you'd take me."

"Okay," Phil said simply. "Let's go. It looks like it's about to rain."

And so we boarded a train into the great unknown (at least, for me). I didn't want the journey to end. I felt incredibly and absolutely content, sat across from Phil, laughing and joking, holding his hand under the table, complaining loudly about the price of crisps and gazing.

Watching the world go by without us.

*

"Look," Phil said. "Cormorants."

Two black birds hung poised above the sea. We watched them gliding and pitching as we walked. Even from the top of the cliff I could hear the rush and roar of the waves through the wind. Now, it was raining.

We stopped for a moment to stare out from under the shelter of a tree, great, fat droplets falling around us. Out across the water, under the clouds, the sea was the colour of coal. There was a strange grey-purple light in the sky, like there was a storm coming.

"I shouldn't have taken you here." He whispered.

I looked at him questioningly, not saying anything. There was something in his tone. I tried to say in my expression that he could talk to me, if he wanted.

He looked steadily into my eyes. It felt like he was reading me, and I just stood there. Letting him. Eventually, it seemed that he had made up his mind.

"Do you see, over there? There's a bit of the cliff that juts right out into the sea."

I looked where he was pointing and nodded. A small path of stone steps cut into the rock wound down to the shingle beach, where the waves crashed into the rocks. Just to the right, the cliff jutted out – falling sharply into the black swell. Most of the cliffs were overgrown with clumps of grass and shrubbery all the way down, but this bit was different; from GCSE geography I guessed that it was made from a harder rock. It stood taller than the rest of the cliff face, and the slope was sheer and jagged.

Phil stared blankly at the rocks at the base of the cliff.

"What about it?" I prompted.

Something stirred within him, but his eyes remained dead. "My best friend jumped off it," he murmured, his voice like a whisper fading into the hush of the waves. "When he was fourteen."

I let my mouth fall open, knowing I should say something. Instead, my gaze joined his, focusing reluctantly on the grey rocks that protruded threateningly over the waves. The salt spray burned my eyes and the wind whipped my hair across my face. The water looked freezing, and suddenly I didn't fancy a swim so much anymore.

I took Phil's hand. He didn't move it away, only pulled his eyes slowly down to look down at our fingers laced together.

"It was three years ago. He was the first boy I ever kissed, and had been my best friend since I was two." Phil was speaking quietly, his voice deadpan. "His name was Jamie. He had blonde hair and brown eyes, and I never once realised how unusual that was. I just took it for granted. He was always there for me, and everyone else really. He was our rock. Whenever anyone was sad, they went to Jamie. He always listened, he always cared. And no one ever asked him about himself, how he was doing. Not even me, and I was supposed to be his best friend for fuck's sake."

A shiver ran through his body.

"He was happy, he was loving, he was fine. He was the only one who wasn't fucked up at least a little bit. Turns out we were wrong about that, too." Phil still hadn't taken his eyes of our hands, and he was clinging on as though to stop himself being swept off the edge with the wind.

"I was feeling a little depressed, some guy had called me names or I'd just lost at Mario kart or something, I don't know. But I went to Jamie's, I knew he would cheer me up, he was never down. Only he didn't answer the door. A policeman did. And he'd taken his hat off and was holding it in his hands, and that's when I knew. I knew something had happened. And I knew that we didn't know Jamie at all. After that, I kind of went crazy." He whispered. "I moved schools, I couldn't stand the stares. 'That's the kid whose boyfriend killed himself.' 'Do you think he beat him up?' 'Do you think he's gonna do it too?' So I came to Bradfield. I insisted on boarding, I couldn't handle the walk through town, past his house, past the school. For the first year I don't think I said a word to anyone. But then PJ accidentally filmed me coming out of the shower and Chris fell through my bedroom window, and two days later I moved in with them. I knew Jamie wouldn't have wanted me to stay alone, he always cared so much when we were sad. He hated it. I know he wouldn't want me to feel what he felt, and that I had to go on living – for him. Because, it's my fault that he isn't any more."

We stood in silence watching the gulls for what seemed like hours.

"I'm okay now, though. I know it sounds horrific - and it is - but I don't get sad anymore. I think he's happy now. I come here a lot to think; only after Sunday it's a bit raw." He grinned at me, to show he really was okay.

I lifted his hand to my lips and kissed it. I didn't know why I did it, but it fitted somehow with the sea and the sadness and the rain. I knew I'd got it right because Phil gave me that look again, like I was one of those guys in the movies.

"I'm guessing we're not going swimming then?" I grinned, giving his hand a quick squeeze.

He shook his head ruefully. "No. I just took you to the middle of nowhere and got us both completely soaking, we'll probably die of hypothermia. It was stupid. I'm sorry."

"Hey. It's not your fault." I touched his face gently with my other hand, trying to spark some light into his darkened eyes. "Why don't we find some shelter? We don't need to do anything. We have all day."

"Where though?" He said despairingly, "There's nothing for miles."

I bit my lip, looking around the desolate cliff top. "There are farm buildings. Why don't we head over there?"

He was staring at the sea again, and I gently tugged him away, pulling him down the road, over a stile and into a field of windswept clover. We walked quickly, sticking close to the hedgerow for shelter. At some point his hand had slipped out of mine and I missed its warmth.

*

"It's empty. I don't think there's anyone in the house at all, and even if there was they wouldn't see us."

I nodded, coming out from behind a leafy bush and eyeing the barn he'd picked out. His eyes were alight in this new adventure, the sombre tone of the sea forgotten.

The barn was surprisingly warm inside, stacked to the ceiling with round bales of hay. We wandered around the clear space on the floor and I pulled a couple of bales onto their ends so we could sit on them.

"So, what do we do now?"

He laughed. "Wait there. I'll be back."

He slipped out of the barn and into the rain. I heard him scrunch down the gravelled path towards the gate. I sat on a hay bale and waited, for... whatever would happen next. He wasn't long, and he came back through the wide opening with a pile of twigs and some newspaper.

He frowned for a moment. "It'll have to be in that corner over there, I don't want to set this whole place alight."

I nodded in agreement, slipping off the hay to help him clear a patch on the stone-mud floor. We made a little pyramid and I pulled out my lighter, sitting cross legged in the hay as we waited for the flames to catch hold.

"There's plenty of dry wood outside," he said. "We can dry our clothes as well."

He began to unlace his trainers. Was his heart slamming as fast as mine? All my clothes were wet. How many were we taking off? I pulled my shoes off and placed them next to his by the fire. We peeled off our socks and laid them next to our shoes. I unzipped my leather jacket; I knew he was looking as I carefully hung it up over a hay bale so the heat could reach it. I watched him pull his hoodie off and spread it out on the floor. He was only wearing a thin shirt underneath.

"Is that a birth mark?"

A small, brown mark dotted his collar bone. I don't know why I'd pointed it out, I had plenty myself, but it just looked so peaceful on his clear skin. I traced the mark with my finger and he watched me. His skin was soft and I didn't want to stop. But I couldn't go on forever, so I pulled my hand away and put it back on my lap. We sat looking at each other. I looked away first.

Eventually, sleepy from the heat of the flickering flames, we lay back and gazed at the ceiling. Spider webs shivered in each of the four corners and in between the heavy wooden beams. We lay without touching, following the grains and cracks in the wood with our eyes and breathing in the wood smoke and dusty-straw air. I wondered how old the barn was. The wood looked old; aged and stained from many winters. I wondered how many storms it had stood through like this one. Every now and then, I would sneak a look at Phil. Each glance made me feel giddy. The dark of his hair contrasting against the glassy surface of his eyes. The shape of his body lying next to mine.

I had to keep reminding myself that it was real.

I wanted to touch him. I wanted to tell him to kiss me and hold me and never let me go. But words like that had never left my lips before, so instead I said: "Tell me what you're thinking."

He rolled over to face me and his damn eyes near took my breath away. They were so close. I could see colours in them I'd never noticed before, snow white flecks and deep hues of green. And that fucking grin.

"I'm thinking about lots of things and nothing at all, all at the same time."

Of course I wasn't going to get a straight answer from him, he was Phil. He was Phil, and we were completely alone in the middle of a thunder storm. He was all mine. I tried to comprehend that thought, but my brain couldn't process it and just pushed it away. I did sort of know what he meant, though.

As I stared, he leaned over and laid his head on my shoulder.

I laughed. "What are you doing?"

"Listening to you."

I was suddenly aware of every breath, and every small movement. I tried to stay very still. "What do I sound like?" I whispered.

"Beautiful."

I felt like I was on the world's best morphine as he leaned in to kiss me.

I could feel his heart beating against my chest, the pulse in my neck thundering.

I was kissing a blue-eyed boy named Phil on the floor of a hay barn in the middle of a thunderstorm. Outside it was dark, the wind roared and spikes of lightening lit up the sky. Inside, we were silent. There was no mobile signal, nobody knew we were here and there wasn't an occupied building for miles.

Every now and then the image of Knuckles and Jake and Gabes crept into my mind. The three of them were probably playing fifa with beers and hot girls right now. Maybe Gabes was shagging Leila. They were probably talking about me, planning their revenge, pumping for the next attack. Wondering where I was.

But the longer I kissed Phil, the less important these things became.

He stroked my hair. I dared to touch his hip. There was a vivid burst of electricity where my skin touched his. I buried my face in his neck and breathed in his scent. Phil smelled like honey and oceans and the warmth of a soft bed. He looked at me with glistening eyes, his breathing heavy and hitched. He looked like he was sinking, like he couldn't help himself as he reached to kiss me again. It made me want to laugh out loud. I was doing this to him. Me, skinny Dan with the stupid curly hair. The pussy ballerina. I'd been a dancer all my life, and never, ever had I dreamed I could feel so alive.

"I haven't ever..." I murmured as he began to unbutton my shirt, but then I gave up, because, in fact, I wanted him to unbutton it. It shocked me, that I could want this when not so long ago I'd never even kissed a boy before.

"You want me to stop?"

I shook my head.

"We can just kiss," he said, "We don't have to do anything else."

"I don't want to stop."

His hand brushed along my neck to my jaw, and for some reason I wasn't cringing away. "Are you sure?" he said.

I nodded.

He was on his knees and he held out his hand. I sat up and together we slid the shirt up over my shoulders. It was the same shirt I'd worn the day I'd first spoken to him in the sports field; I'd spent the day following Knuckles around as he beat up year sevens. That felt like years ago, like another life.

And how easily that life slipped off.

*

Afterwards, we lay watching the cobwebs and listening to the storm as we waited for our breathing to slow. The fire had died down so low all that was left was the glowing embers, but our eyes had adjusted to the darkness and everything was bathed in purple velvet. A thin sheen of sweat glittered across Phil's chest as I lay with my head on his shoulder. My eyes took it all in, the pale, glowing sheen of his body. His dark hair, mussed and tangled now with strands of straw sticking up at odd angles. The smooth pink crescents of his lips. His arm around my waist, his face just inches away from my own, our legs tangled in the hay. We'd been keeping warm pretty effectively, but now as the fire died I started to shiver. I cursed myself silently, trying to hold my body still. If Phil noticed we'd have to get up, I'd have to leave his arms - maybe even leave altogether.

It was no good, of course.

"We should head home. Your parents will be wondering where you are. We can't stay here, you're freezing." His voice was soft and melodic, slightly husky after all the heavy breathing. I felt kinda proud, that I'd done that. I'd made his voice like that. I'd never got more emotion than an angry tut out of someone before.

"Can't we stay a little longer? Use the rest of the wood, put our clothes on... we'll be warm enough, if we cuddle."

He smiled fondly down at me, stuck his tongue out a little. "Fine. But not too long, okay?"

I grinned, burying my face in his chest.

He laughed and wrapped his arms around me. "That means you have get off me, silly."

"I can't while you're holding onto me." I said, my voice muffled by his chest, as I surreptitiously bent my arms back to grab his wrists and hold them in place.

He snickered again, wriggling out of my grasp and toppling me on to the cold stone in one quick movement. I gasped at the ice, instinctively curling up into a ball and shivering uncontrollably.

I could hear him cracking up behind me, but his teeth were chattering too. "You do have a very nice little blue arse there, Daniel." He giggled.

I hissed, flushing and rolling over to seek some freezing dignity behind a hay bale. Behind the bale, I stared unashamedly as Phil chucked more wood onto the fire, coaxing it back to life. He hadn't put any clothes yet, and my breath was swept away from me again as the fire leapt up, illuminating his body in a glimmering, yellow light. The fire cast deep, purple shadows – defining every muscle and smooth angle, rippling as he moved. He looked up suddenly and caught my stare, flashing me that perfect grin.

"You must be freezing over there." He said, his voice soft and unabashed. "Come here."

And for some reason, I did. It wasn't dark any more, but here I was standing in front of him; and he was looking at me, and I was looking at him. And neither of us moved. The red didn't rise in my cheeks, my body didn't tremble and my arms didn't curve instinctively round to cover myself. His smile wasn't amused or laughing anymore as he held out a hand, and I took it without a second's thought.