I was on the computer again in Phil's room, scrolling through Jakob Beier's facebook profile with a frown. There was no mistake: this was the guy from the bunker. It was a little disconcerting seeing him alive and happy and smiling for photos. His eyes were wide and sparkling, not milky white. They were brown and welcoming and not dissimilar to my own. I grimaced.

There weren't any pictures of him and Phil, they weren't even Facebook friends. His timeline was too full of remembrances and condolences and commiserations to find any recent activity, but he was still 'in a relationship' with a tall blonde girl. There were plenty of pictures of them together, but Phil had said 'probably has a girlfriend'. If he'd known this guy well, why didn't he just say 'has a girlfriend'? I tugged my fingers through my hair. This whole mess wasn't getting any clearer.

Thanks to privacy settings I couldn't see many of his photos, but that didn't stop me from looking for Yao/Skinhead. I was sprawled out on the bed with the laptop when Phil came through the door yawning. I jumped, trying to close the tabs and tilting the laptop away from him before forcing a smile on to my face and a cheery 'Hey!'

"Hey gorgeous." Phil grinned, dropping down onto the bed next to me and slinging his bag on the floor.

"How was media?" I asked, still desperately clicking the 'X' button – the laptop had managed to freeze on one of Jakob's profile pictures, popping up error messages.

"So-so," Phil mused, scratching his head. "What've you been up to?"

"Oh, you know the usual, working and lazing, pining away without my lover." I winked.

Phil's chuckle was like soft bells, it filled the room and made the walls seem closer and warmer.

"Oh, of course. You can cuddle my Totoro pushy when I'm gone, if you like." He giggled.

"Thanks."

Everything else slipped away when I heard his voice. The webpage had finally closed and we talked about nothing, making each other laugh and gently teasing as the sun streamed in through the window against my back.

*

"Did you really just use the word 'verbiage' in a conversation?" Phil smirked.

"Shut up!" I rebuked, chucking a pillow at his head. "It's a cool word. I can't help being more intelligent than you."

Phil tried to throw the pillow back but I blocked it with an elbow, unwittingly bouncing it back towards his open arms. He jumped up, raising the lump of white above his head in one swift movement before I could react and bundling into me – knocking the laptop onto the floor. I rolled him over, crashing us both into the wall, but instead of fighting me Phil just wrapped his arms around my waist and buried his face in my stomach. I laughed, wistfully letting the pillow drop as I stroked his back. Part of his shirt had risen up and I could see goosebumps forming where my fingers trailed. Fascinated, I pulled the fabric up around his shoulders and started drawing patterns on his pale skin. He shuddered slightly, wriggling about to make my fingers hit the best spots, and I laughed. I remembered my mum doing the same to me when I was little, I'd always be asking her to 'tickle my back!' It used to calm me down if I got too hyperactive or annoying, and it was certainly having the same effect on Phil - he was completely limp on my lap.

I trailed my fingers in great arcs and small circles, spreading out from his spine and up over the smooth curves of his shoulders. His back was a mass of goosebumps now so I reached out along the lengths of his arms and up to the base of his head. He arched his neck at my touch, pressing his face further into my stomach, and I bent over him to press a light kiss against his shoulder blades.

With my face on his back and his in my stomach, his arms started moving too. I shivered as his fingertips brushed against bare skin, pushing at my shirt.

"Tickle my tummy now, please?"

I couldn't help it, I laughed, but of course, I obliged. His stomach was more ticklish and he squirmed under my touch, but he wouldn't let me stop.

"It's a nice tickle." He pouted.

His muscles were only very lightly defined, but my fingers could feel each subtle ridge. I moved back up to his chest, following the dips and curves and walking my fingers in circles while he laughed and swatted at my hand. He was looking up at me up at me with wide, trusting eyes and I suddenly felt vehemently guilty for all my dark suspicions. He looked so innocent, like a baby animal in my arms, and I arched my back once more to kiss him.

And that was how PJ and Chris found us ten minutes later; Phil laying on his back with his head in my lap while I bent over, my hands cradling his face, fixing his lips in an upside-down kiss that seemed to – not so much set the world on fire, but warm it to the core with a smouldering, burning heat.

They chuckled out their 'hello's and Phil and I tried to murmur our replies at the same time with our lips still pressed together. Reluctantly, I pulled away. My neck was aching and my back was stiff from curving over. I shuffled down on the bed to lay beside Phil with a much-needed stretch, taking my turn to nuzzle my face into his neck. He rested an arm around my shoulders so as to tangle his fingers in my hair.

Just as I was getting warm again, my phone screamed.

"Hey Peej, can you get that for me? I'm too comfy to move." I murmured without looking up.

"Yeah sure, where is it?"

"On the pillow."

"Seriously, Dan."

I smirked into Phil's neck and suddenly cold metal was pressing against my cheek.

"Do you need me to hold it against your ear as well or can you do that?" PJ muttered sarcastically.

I grinned as I took the phone and answered.

"Hello?"

"..."

"Heeello?"

The line went dead.

"That's weird." I muttered, setting the phone down on the bed with a frown.

"Who was it?" Phil asked.

"I don't know," I tapped a couple of buttons. "They didn't say anything, just heavy breathing. And the number's blocked."

PJ looked sharply over at me from the desk. "I thought people only did that in the movies."

"Did what?" I asked.

"Dead calls, whatever you want to call them. They're supposed to be threatening."

I shivered. "Do you mean, it was probably...?"

"Maybe," PJ murmured, not meeting my eye. "Or it could just have been a wrong number. Either way, there's nothing they can do to you – they just want to scare you."

"Well, it's working." I sighed.

Phil pulled me into a hug. "Hey. Don't worry about it. No one is getting past me."

I snickered. "Sure. You're so hard and violent."

"Well he's certainly hard but I'm not so sure about the violent part..." Chris quipped up from the carpet.

Phil blushed furiously and rolled over to cover himself, and my eyes opened wide with comprehension as I realised what Chris meant. I sniggered and Phil punched me, burying his face ashamedly into my back.

"Sorry mate," Chris laughed. "It was pretty noticeable. I wish PJ's was that big."

"Oi!"

The thump as PJ launched himself into Chris reverberated the springs on our bed, but I ignored them, turning instead to Phil with a grin. He wouldn't meet my eye, still covering his shining face.

"I'd help you out, only you've got classics in five minutes." I lifted Phil's chin with a smirk.

"It's okay. I'll be fine, just change the subject. And maybe stop cuddling me."

I let go with a sigh, putting a little space between us on the bed.

"Well, what do you want to talk about?"

"I don't know. You like the killers a lot. Human is your ring tone, your alarm, your dance song... aren't you sick of it by now?"

"No, not really," I mused. "It's always been my favourite song. I don't know, I guess I just like the message. Because you know, I'm a dancer. When I first heard it... I guess it made a lot of things make sense. It's like saying that there is more to us than just humans. We're dancers, we're beautiful. We're artists. It's about seeing the beautiful in the world, and realising it – too much is ignored because we think we're just humans so we don't pay attention, but everything is a dance. We don't just exist, we perform. Everything we do. It's like Shakespeare said, all the world's a stage."

Phil considered for a moment. "I like that. And it's good to have a favourite song that means a lot to you. But that's not what I think of when I hear it."

"What do you mean?" I asked, surprised.

"Later," Phil said. "I've really got to go." He jumped up, grabbing his bag and saying a quick farewell to Chris and PJ (who had at some point stopped fighting and started building a duvet fort instead) before darting out the door.

I rolled over to face the ceiling, trying to figure out what Phil had meant. I stuck my headphones in and put the song on repeat, listening more carefully to the lyrics. I frowned. The message seemed to be slightly more macabre than I'd first thought, and it had been my favourite song for five years. I shook my head. Without Phil, all my worries were creeping back into bed with me. I ran my fingers through my hair. I'd been keeping this to myself for too long. I needed answers.

Quickly I fished the scrap of paper I'd been carrying with me all week out from my pocket and swung my legs off the bed. Muffled giggling was coming from the duvet fort and I bit my lip, not sure I wanted to disturb them. I approached with caution, catching one corner of the duvet with my fingers.

"Knock knock. Can I come in?"

More muffled laughter followed some shuffling that shook the structure precariously. Chris's head emerged from the white fabric with a grin.

"Come right in good sir, we were just discussing the size of PJ's penis."

I winced.

PJ's face joined Chris's with a grin. "We've established that it's almost as big as Philip's, and Chris needs to stop moaning as his is easily the smallest in this room."

I groaned audibly.

"Oi," Chris grumbled. "It's not my fault I'm living in a roomful of giants and their monster cocks."

My groan deepened. "Oh God. I'm not sure I want to come in anymore. Maybe I'll go back over there and listen to Tchaikovsky for a while."

PJ snorted, grabbing the top of Chris's head and shoving him back under the duvets. "It's okay," He rolled his eyes, "We've both put our cocks away now. It is safe to enter."

Somewhat apprehensively, I clambered in through the small opening. Chris's laptop was providing the only light and the air was warm and close, but not uncomfortably so.

"I just wondered if you knew what this meant. I found it outside and was curious." I pulled out the scrap of paper and held it near the screen so they could read it.

"Yao?" PJ said, surprised. "That's cocaine, isn't it?"

"What?" I blinked. Well that wasn't what I was expecting. At all.

"You clearly haven't been playing enough video games." PJ chuckled. "It looks like someone's been doing a coke deal on school grounds. Tut tut. The 30 must be the cost, that's about average for a gram."

"Are you sure it's not the amount?" Chris frowned, "They wouldn't need to write down the cost as it's always the same."

"No way," PJ shook his head. "No one would be wandering around anywhere, let alone a college, with 30g of coke. That's like, a thousand pounds at least."

I scratched my head. Clearly this wasn't anything to do with Jakob or Phil or Gabes or any of them. It was just a coincidence, there were plenty of druggies in this college and apparently the forest was more popular than I'd thought. It seemed like half the college carried out their furtive activities in there. I sighed.

"Oh well, thanks. The more you know, huh. This information may come in useful one day if I don't make it as a lawyer." I grinned.

PJ laughed, trying to disentangle himself from Chris's arms as the brown haired boy clung to PJ's waist with a happy smile.

"Hey sexy PJ. Love you sexy PJ. I'm never letting you go sexy PJ. Sexy PJ with the massive cock is staying in here with me forever."

I grinned at PJ's exasperated yet fond expression and quietly took my leave, slipping out into the welcome sunlight and fresh air. Far from helping, PJ's knowledge had left me even more clueless. The only scrap of hard evidence I had was completely useless, and I was no closer to the truth. I sighed, letting it flutter out of my fingers and into the bin.