"I could recognise him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world."
- Madeline Miller

Once again, the first thing I feel when I wake up is cold.

Cold, and a warm form next to me.

I feel like I'm floating on a cloud. Not in the exhilarating, euphoric way. It's vaguely hazy, everywhere I look is swirling black and grey and there's a sound like rushing wind, the kind that tears at your clothes and knocks you back as you stand on shaky feet. Oddly enough though, I don't feel any wind on my skin. I'm on my back and I'm breathing in, in, in.

Breathing in gulps of air. I reach with my hand but I don't know what I'm reaching for, I just stretch out my hand and clouds skim my fingers.

I've been asleep for hours, so long in fact that I've forgotten where I am. Maybe I never knew. I'm wrapped in layers of warm, soft blankets, so calm and content that it's almost unrealistic. Since when have I lived anywhere in this apocalypse that feels like this?

Overwhelming content envelops me. I don't feel afraid for once, I just float without reason as time and space stand still. The way the wind whistles and whispers reminds me of the sound of Dan's voice, soft and warm at the same time.

I'm dreaming, I realize. The moment I realize that, the grey dissipates and I remember I have a life in the conscious, a world beyond the clouds that has the dream fading and delivering me back to where I am, my body curled and sleep-heavy on a soft mattress and my head sunken into a pillow that smells familiar.

There's a feeling like surfacing from beneath deep water. My eyes are still closed so I sit in the darkness for a little while longer and breathe deeply, feeling the last dregs of my dream slowly drain away, fading from my mind. I feel that weird detachment that you often feel after a particularly deep sleep, the kind that leaves you feeling disoriented and wondering where you are. The coldness doesn't help but it does make me feel more awake so I roll over to my side and press my face into the pillow beneath my head, groaning softly.

It's then, just like with any other dream, that I wake up.

Waking up early is always the most sluggish feeling. The blanket suddenly feels like the softest, puffiest thing in existence and I feel heavy, like I'm melting into the mattress.

I can hear soft breaths next to me and it makes me freeze for a second, confused as to who on earth I could be sharing my bed with. For just under a minute I'm genuinely disoriented before it hits me, my disjointed brain trying to pull forward the events of the day before.

Then I smile softly, the situation slowly catching up to me.

I move to pull the covers more comfortably around me and in my dazed state find that I can't, eliciting a much more dramatic groan from me as I flip right over, waking up slowly as I try to burrow under a more substantial layer of blankets.

I open my eyes, shutting them almost right after because soft light sits in the corner of my vision and my eyes are still sleep-sensitive. It takes a few blinks and I stretch my limbs to chase out the drowsiness, slowly coming to remember where I am.

My eyes are greeted with the same apartment I'd fallen asleep to, my vision slightly blurred and hazy.

I blink. My eyes dart about several times.

I'm still in my apartment.

I sigh at that, pulling the patterned duvet towards my face in the hopes of drifting for a few more minutes in comfortable silence- only to be met with resistance.

Dan and I must have fallen asleep. It's dark outside the window, my eyes adjusting slowly to the low light. I don't hear Mark or Felix's voices anymore but I do feel the amount of covers Dan has stolen away in the night, the air around me decidedly lower in temperature than beneath the duvet.

Apparently they'd decided not to bother us, to let us sleep through the night. I wonder if they've all crashed on the sofa or if Chris and PJ are cuddled up in the guest room. I have no idea, and at the moment I just want to be warm.

As it turns out, the light that had made me shut my eyes earlier had come in through the window on the opposite end of the room. It's a warm orange, tiny and distant in a cluster of others.

My sleepy mind wonders vaguely if the rebels have managed to restore electric in the eastern boroughs already or something. Then I laugh, realizing it's probably just fires from other city inhabitants, people who have the courage to announce their existence now that there isn't a risk of attracting the Confederation. This of course has me pressing my hand over my mouth to stifle the sound and stop myself from waking Dan, nearly falling over from how unbalanced it makes me.

I roll to the side cautiously, wincing at the expectation of pain, but nothing shoots through my side. No pain pierces my abdomen, and it surprises me. Dan sleeps on, oblivious. I'm glad, though. It's good to wake up without pain, it almost feels symbolic.

I turn my head and I can't even really see him, just the shape of his shoulders and the the back of his head, all sunken into the pillows. For all I know he might not even be here; it might all be a trick of the mind.

Somehow though, I doubt this. I know that he's here. I can tell by the weight of his form, by the shape of his shoulders beneath the covers and the distinct sound of his voice in each whisper of breath. This is Dan. I know it is. Of course it's him.

I wonder if I should reach out and touch him. It suddenly makes sense why I'm so cold, he's clearly rolled away in sleep and unintentionally stolen all the blankets. I'm already thinking about harassing him for that later but at the moment I'm more distracted by my fingers running over my own skin, realizing I haven't really taken the time to notice my own state since I got Dan back in my life.

There's a softness at my stomach, a bit of give that suggests someone well-fed, no bones jutting out. If Dan were awake he'd probably call it endearing, the way it's almost chubby like I'm healthy once again. I can barely remember a time like that.

I puzzle over this, wondering if the rebel drugs I've been given have actually healed me that fast. We've certainly been fed well, but that well?

Where is the pain? I press my hand to the surface of my stomach.

The skin is smooth. The knife wound is gone, though I can't see it I don't even feel a jagged edge or bandage. I press my hand down again in disbelief and I notice something else as well, something so impossible my breath actually halts and I shake my head, nearly exclaiming out loud.

There isn't even a scar.

The sleepiness dissipates to be replaced by immediate confusion, five senses returning and leaving me feeling disoriented.

I sit up as quietly and gently as I can, taking care not to jostle Dan as I blink until my eyes adjust, colours coming into focus and the scene becoming even stranger the longer I look at it.

I'm still in my bedroom. It's reassuring that at least this is the same, the world just a little bit confusing right now. I blink twice more and the scene doesn't change, something distinctly different. I can't even put my finger on what's off but something is, and that's before I actually focus on the room itself.

The walls are whole. The windows, unbroken. The lights are on in the hall the way Dan liked them for sleepovers back before the virus because he was afraid of the dark. That definitely changed once we lived outside for months, but I remember that somehow. It felt like he was too soft and lovely to be real sometimes, I still stand by that now.

It'd been real at one time. That wakes me up faster than the other things, the realization that I'm in a building that isn't the hospital and it has power. I wonder if they've turned it on or if something else is at work, now that I can clearly see the window the light that had woken me up earlier is undoubtedly a streetlight, not a campfire.

This of course makes no sense so I flop back, groaning and trying to clear my head. There's a funny feeling in my heart at seeing lights in the distance, not sure if it's because I haven't seen them in ages or because it isn't even the end of things not even making sense right now.

The next thing I notice is that my clothes are clean. I'm dressed in sweatpants and a blue T-shirt, the fabric smelling of detergent and sleep. I run my fingers through my fringe and find that my hair is shorter. My mind is hazy, the dark doesn't help.

Finally, I'm on my own side of the bed.  Somehow that strikes me more than my appearance, the notion that Dan is here in my bed in my apartment and we aren't touching, we aren't even close to each other really.

It's all so jarring, so impossibly bizarre and unreal. So many things at once that make me wonder if I'm still sleeping, if I'm not about to have one of those vivid nightmare endings that end in falling and darkness.

What kind of twilight realm am I trapped in right now? I'm so confused I want to ask someone what's up but I don't want to wake the others, falling back on my strategy from the hospital where I run the facts over in my head in my own voice, repeating the same question.

Real or not real? I run the list of facts over in my head again, noting what does make sense rather than what doesn't.

I'm home. I've been home for a night now. Real.

The room is still here, that makes sense.

Dan's asleep. Real.

I think it's Dan. I'd hope it is. I don't know who else I'd fall asleep with.

Dan's in my bed. Real.

Nothing is as it should be and maybe I should be afraid but the unsettling part is that I see no immediate danger.

I shake my head. Ever so gently, I reach out towards Dan and after hesitating a moment, move the blankets aside and brush back his hair. It's the only thing I can reach from here and under my fingers it's soft and thick, twisted up in loose curls.

I run my fingers through it a few times, hearing him sigh sleepily and drawing back after I brush it off his forehead. He's far too beautiful to be entirely real and his breaths are soft, he whines adorably at my disturbing him and curls deeper into the blankets, effectively yanking them off of me. I let him, feeling my heartbeat slow because even if things are odd at least he's okay, that's all that really matters.

He's sleeping in my bed in my apartment, the darkness warm and serene now that I've adjusted slightly. I feel weird and I don't know why and it hits me that this is probably a dream, accounting for the almost hazy unreality of all of it.

So what's going on? How do I wake myself up?

The room looks beautifully clean. It definitely isn't tidy, there's pants on the floor and books out of place but everything down to the photos scattered on the wardrobe door are in place, not pretty but normal, the most casual existence my eyes have seen.

Not even normal in the way that it looks better than most apocalypse homes, but so wholly accurate to what life was before. It's like I've just stepped back into a dream of normality, which couldn't make sense because that's obviously a reality that died on the same day the world-

My heart stops.

Wait.

I go stock still then. I can still hear Dan's sleeping breaths and it helps to ground me until it doesn't because this doesn't make sense, my eyes darting from the sleeping form of my best friend to the unblackened walls to the light outside, to the random smattering if personal objects on the floor.

It's only then that I notice one tiny, final detail:

The photo of me and Dan.

It's not on the bedside table where we left it. It's not folded or creased, the colours aren't faded and it's tacked to the wall. I see my wobbly arm and soft smile and I see the way Dan in the image looks at me, rather than the camera.

It's on the other side of the room. Despite all the evidence around me this single, gentle detail is what nudges me into a panic, my breath going short and my eyes going wide as I try to put my finger on what's wrong because it's too fine, it's too normal, everything is as it should be but that shouldn't be possible because there's an apocalypse happening and it's far from over.

It's our reality. It's our whole life. My heart is racing and I look at the room again but it stays whole, almost like I've just been asleep.

But that can't be right. This isn't real. It's...

It's-

"Fuck."

I push the covers off, sitting up and swinging my feet to the floor and then stumbling to the window as the fog clears instantly and I nearly stumble right into the frame in my haste to get over to it, crossing the room in moments and grabbing the sill.

Because one thing has become apparent pretty quickly.

This is not the apocalypse.

There's a bit of mist on the window, heat from the radiator meeting the cool glass above it and creating condensation that I can see even in this watery light. I can smell the mingling scent of different candles faintly in the air, making me feel almost dizzy with the unnatural sweetness. It's so distant but I remember this smell. It's familiar.

My hands fumble at the dusty frame and I grip the sill and some of the moisture clings to my fingers, the chill settling into my bones and bringing me back to reality in a gentle, cautious way. I can see the reflection of my face in the glass, my features slightly indiscernible in the dark. I can see a candle sat on the dresser to my right which accounts for the scent at least, that's one thing clear in this sea of confusion.

I'm shaking. My legs feel like jelly and the glow of streetlamps just makes my heart race.
My gaze falls lower and I meet my own eyes.

Wait.

Though it's probably early- way early actually, if the digital clock reading 4:35 to my left is accurate, there's enough light from the streetlamps outside to reflect me back at the surface, and the first thing I see is the span of my forehead.

Forget that there's a working clock next to me, there's no scar. There's no wounds on my face, no tired circles.

Now my heart is pounding. You'd think there'd be joy or elation but all I can feel is fear, this massive amount of anxiety that I'm going to blink and Wirrow will be hovering above me with a knife in his hand, zombies will come bursting in, Dan will be dying in my arms.

This isn't real. My mind says. You're dreaming.

And even in sleep, it hurts. To be fed this false reality, to be reminded of how things used to be. I pinch myself like they always say to do and the pain is very real, but it's not grounding. I've felt pain in my dreams before too.

So go back to sleep. My mind prods.

And maybe I should sleep, but I can't help looking around at everything and taking in the things I haven't seen in years. I take it all in selfishly, marvelling in the detail my memory has spun for me. I sit in this dreamworld where everything is right, sitting in the square light of a streetlight filtering in through the window.

The sky is a watery colour, more navy than black and dotted with lights. London spreads before me in all directions. I lose all feeling in my chest at the sight of buses and cars. It's early but the world is alive in this moment. In a way it's beautiful but none of it makes sense.

The last thing I manage to do is lower my fingers to the skin of my wrist, anticipating the bite from the junkyard but coming away smooth.

The skin is flawless. It's freckled faintly and unbroken, shadows slanting over it without a trace of damage. My heart drops.

I look at it, actually focus all the energy I have at staring at it to double check- triple check, but there isn't even a bandage to hide the wound. There is no wound. I squeeze it hard and all I feel is fragile skin and bone, just a skinny, average boy in an average, regular body in-

"No."

The word cuts the air and I barely register myself saying it. All at once it all makes sense and it's too much, dizziness striking me. Memory comes flooding back and I feel the windowsill under my skin, just managing to to raise my eyes back to the photo on the wall right as my current Dan turns over in his sleep and it all becomes suddenly, impossibly clear.

No. No, no no.

I feel a myself sway forward. I waver in place and dig my fingers into the wood grain and it slips beneath my fingers, my breaths coming short and fast as I try to grasp it, try to even attempt rationalizing this in my head.

Smooth, pale skin. Light freckles along the wrist. Short, trimmed nails.

There's no wound on my arm. There is no zombie bite. I'm not hallucinating this apartment.

It isn't a dream that has me like this. I'm not having some profound memory in the form of a near-perfect reality.

I'm not in a broken London at all. What I just emerged from was dreaming.

This is real.

My breath hitches. My hands begin to shake and I freeze like a deer in the headlights just barely comprehending the reality before my mind hastily denies it. I try to disprove the notion, realize I can't, my heart skipping a beat in my chest.

And then-

And then I'm crying.

Tears of undefinable emotion well in my eyes, a bittersweet mix of depth and feeling as I gasp and sink down to the floor. I just press my hands to my face, shaking my head in disbelief.

What?! I almost choke it out loud, digging my fingers into the skin of my cheeks.

I feel like I've been wrung out. I don't know what to think. How to feel.

I look at the room again. I take in the warmth of the air, the colour and the smoothness of my hands devoid of bruises. My eyes gaze wide and unblinking into the silence, dark and familiar before I have to look away, just filled with denial that I could be here right now.

I think about the whole thing, right from the very beginning.

I think of the morning with the piano, of meeting Mark, Felix, and Marzia. I think of the half-life camp, meeting Wirrow, going to the bunker and getting drugged. I think of the girl at the party, the Rottweiler apartment then the tube and all of Dan and I's half-formed confessions. I think about the night Cat was killed and the camp went up in flames. The junkyard, the headquarters, the hospital.

I think of the fears that made my chest constrict with terror. The kiss that sent sparks searing through my heart. Every laugh, confession, emotion.

For the first time, I look at that, I look at all of it.

I envision it in my mind, hands trembling as they come up to my face and I press my fingers to my eyelids, taking every feeling, emotion and event and labelling them just like the hallucinations that sickness would bring.

I picture that world, and not real burns me like fire.

Not real. How could this life be real? How can I be made to think that the universe could just hand back my life and all that came with it when I lost it so long ago?

The silence seems to last for hours. I sit on the floor looking around my room properly this time, like I'm seeing it through another's lens.

This scene before me suggests a life of mediocrity, one where I was living off YouTube and just finished school with no idea of a path or direction in life.

Was none of it real? Did none of that actually happen?

I shake my head. No, It had to be real. That was almost two years of my life. This was the sleepover that we had to abandon when the apocalypse started. I'm going to wake up, and it won't be in this perfect world.

We need to get out of London. Those words were the start of something that took us far beyond anything we could have expected, things that never actually happened.

But the detail is impossible. I start to feel dizzy, my head swimming so much I have to sit down to calm the overwhelming adrenaline in my veins.

I gasp and cover my mouth to stifle the sound and my back meets the wooden wall of my dresser, cheap carpet beneath me. I can't see much of anything really, it's too dark to see and I'm grateful.

I must be extremely tired for the emotions to feel this strong. That was so much- too much in one single night. Now that I can feel the dream draining away it's like I suddenly have to adjust to this setting, breathing in deeply and trying to slow the pounding of my heart when the heat clicks on suddenly and the radiator right next to my head releases a warm gust of air and I'm alarmed so much I jump and bang my elbow against it.

How. I don't even really know why I'm crying, I'm coming to terms with emotions I haven't technically felt in real life. I'm emotional about the loss of the world and what happened in it, not sure what to feel. Grateful? Devastated? I'm already beginning to forget some of what happened, all the finer parts dissolving through my fingers like sand. It's just a mess of confusion, overwhelming feeling present yet I'm still wondering why I'm crying.

I dreamt of a world where zombies were real and it was terrifying. I'd never thought to believe that it could exist or that I could be so scared, trying not to question why Dan was with me.

Why am I so upset? This world is so much safer. My mum and brother must still be alive and I still have Dan with me, why does it feel so unreal and detached? The tears are falling silently like rain despite my denial.

They still fall, right up until a warm hand sets itself on my shoulder, making my head shoot up and swivel around and my breath to catch. My heart jolts so hard I almost gasp aloud, eyes finding a dark pair staring right back at me.

"Phil."

I feel the air knocked out of my lungs when he looks at me, gaping like an idiot probably as I stare up at him from my place on the floor. My eyes go his face first and then his hand, words actually lost in my mouth.

His hair is sleep-mussed and he looks groggy and confused, running his thumb over the fabric of my jumper absently and bringing feeling back into my numb form. After everything I've seen, he looks almost like a stranger to me, his touch so cautious you'd think he could hurt me.

It's Dan. My heart does an odd jump in my chest at seeing him dressed in baggy pyjamas, looking for all the world like he's not in the least bit surprised to be here in my heated, unblemished flat when we should be in some concrete skyscraper resembling it. He looks confused as anything but not in a bad way, his expression is soft and he immediately sits down next to me and lets me drop my head onto his shoulder.

I don't even provide any kind of pretense, just leaning over and letting him hold me, smelling that warm scent that I'd always associated with him.

He doesn't even speak. It's clear how well he knows me. I feel like Dan and I are the only ones left alive, nothing piercing the silence except my juddery breaths and his arms shifting around me. I can feel his heartbeat, steady and calm.

Do you know what's going on? I want to ask him. Do you remember it too?

I don't ask, I can barely speak because I'm wrapped in his arms, a tugging feeling in my heart pulling him towards me almost magnetically. I just want to get closer and stay that way forever if I can, pressing myself against him and feeling mildly embarrassed as I try to get ahold of myself.

A tentative hand moves to reach around me, to pull me closer. We sit there in silence and he rubs his hand over my shoulder, comforting circles that make the heat seep back into my cold skin. My nose is nudging against his neck and I breathe him in, unable to compute how I'm seeing him healthy and so utterly normal, with a bit of tummy and narrow shoulders. He's so tall he has to fold his legs to shift over closer to me and I let him without a word, lifting my head just so I can see him.

When I raise my gaze I'm met with soft brown eyes, and that's when it fully hits me.

Dan. Dan.

My heart skips a beat and I stare at him with wide eyes.

"Oh." I blurt.

His eyes, his eyes are round and gorgeous dark brown and full of life, younger looking with this sleepy haze cast over him.

Younger in general. His eyes aren't lined and the dark circles are mostly gone, just a little bit of shadow that comes with being a student and being woken by your best friend crying at four in the morning. He looks tired but not in a bad way, his focus is alarmingly centred on me.

"Why are you crying?" He asks softly. I start at his voice, the sound somehow cacophonous after the stilted silence earlier. He leans closer to me and without thinking I throw my arms around him, pulling him into my hold for a proper hug and catching him completely off guard as he lets out a startled squeak. Just like the Dan in my dream he doesn't pull back like I thought he might though, with this ache in my chest I'm not sure if I'd be able to let go of him anyway. I need his comfort right now.

And again I have remind myself that what I'm feeling so strongly from was a dream. I've just woken up now and I'm so disoriented by how real this is I don't know what to do.

Why? I don't know how I could ever tell him. I've had dreams all my life but nothing has ever felt so profoundly real a that, never have I felt so many emotions or had such a perspective put on my life. A sigh rolls out of me and breezes over his shoulders, the fabric of his grey t-shirt warm and soft. All I can think about is how in just a few short moments I'll be able to look up into his eyes again. He's healthy, he's warm, I don't know what to do in the face of it.

I don't know how to explain it, how to tell him what I saw or what I did. What we did. It still hasn't really sunken in that I'm home yet, actually home. Felix an Mark aren't out there waiting for us. It's just me, alone with Dan and something only I remember.

"I don't think you'd believe me if I told you." I breathe disbelievingly.

This is definitely not my normal way of hugging him but my heart is swelling at his appearance, urging me to bring him even closer and forget all the restraints because he looks so all right that it feels impossible.

He laughs, nudging me and smirking at my completely stupified expression.

"Wow, Phil. That must have been some dream."

I just stare at him, not really sure of what to say. His cheeky half-smile is overwhelming me, making me fall in love again. I know I should mumble shut up like an affectionate friend would or let go of him but I find that I can't do either of those things. So I don't.

That was so much more than just a dream. It was a lifetime, a moment of insight into hundreds of emotions, of expression, of raw semblances of feeling.

I was myself, but then I was Dan. I was Dan and then I was me, I was Marzia and even Mark, and who are they? It's like the universe wanted to prove we could be together in any timeline, in any world, surrounded by any kinds of people.

It was like a whole lifetime flashed before my mind. Dan and I, we fought, we cried. We lost friends and gained some, made allies and mourned deaths. We laughed, fell in love, kissed each other and had sex. We died in each other's arms- except we survived. We saved a little boy and killed a man and changed a world. All in a night.

That thought stops me short. That all happened in a night?

In the span of time spent asleep I dreamt what felt like hours, days upon days of so many emotions and dangers. I saw so much in sleep.

I look back at Dan, probably an odd thing to him because I'm staring at him like he isn't real. In the back of my mind, it's as if he's not. In one night I dreamed all that. I watched that happen.

I look into his eyes and it slams into me: Love.

God, I love him more than anything. I'd thought I'd felt it before but now it's slamming into me full-force, nearly knocking me breathless. All I'm doing is looking at him and I can feel it. It's overpowering.

Before I can think I touch his face and the urge to bring him closer overwhelms me, the relief that he's here with me making my heart skip.

I stare up at him and all I can think about for a moment is how beautiful he is. He misinterprets the action entirely, closing his eyes in content. It's like muscle reflex as I tilt my head forward, winding my other arm behind his neck before I even stop to think. His hand falls to my waist.

I stop myself just in time, freezing just as his eyes reopen, realization crashing down on me. Our eyes meet from much closer but I can't close that gap, can't lean into because he wouldn't be expecting it.

It hits me suddenly. I can't kiss him.

My hand stutters and I don't think he even notices, blinking when I drop it back down.

I can't do that because to him that would make absolutely no sense. If this is real then it means we haven't gone through any of what I saw in my dream. This is my perfectly regular world and Dan's my best friend who I adore from afar. I haven't told him anything. I haven't kissed him yet, I haven't told him that I love him because I live in stunned but uncertain silence.

"I just woke up and you weren't there." He tells me, oblivious. "I had mild freak out because I forgot where I was and then when I realized you weren't on the other side my brain was like, Philllll?"

My breath catches at the adorable whine at the end of his words and the notion that my best friend would be surprised not to see me on the other side of the bed, not even wanting to dive into that. The way Dan's talking to me is so comfortable and natural, so overwhelmingly domestic you'd think he lived here too.

"I literally passed out last night before you even got to finish your story." He adds. "It wasn't boring, I promise. I almost fell asleep on your shoulder when we were watching Wall-E so I guess it's a good thing we moved."

What story? I'm too out of it to recall.

He gazes at me amicably but all I can think about is the dream. He must see the hesitation on my face, his smile fading into slight confusion.

There's a short silence, then I meet his eyes.

"You're sleeping over, right?" I blurt dumbly, just trying to confirm it in my head that he isn't playing some kind of bizarre trick on me. To remind me that we're really here.

His eyes widen and at first I don't know why. His expression goes crestfallen and he instantly draws back, pulling back from our hug out of surprise.

My heart sinks and I open my mouth to ask what I did, struck by his reaction. I stay still and he shakes his head, looking like he wants to apologize.

"I'm sorry, I could go in the guest room if you want." He mumbles. "I didn't think you'd mind."

I'm confused at first. He looks almost hurt by my question, like me asking if we slept together is upsetting in some way.

"I thought it would be okay." He adds on. "I didn't think about the sharing thing, we usually just sort of..."

He trails off, and I realize he thinks I'm commenting on the fact that we shared a bed. I'm so lost in my own head, the lines of our friendship so blurry that I'd never even thought to imagine he'd think I'd take a casual action the wrong way. But also... he's thinking about that?

"No!" I shout, perhaps a bit more forcefully than necessary. He jumps, seeing me scramble to give him the right idea. "That's not what I meant. No, you don't have to go. I just meant that..."

His brown eyes watch me curiously and I realize I don't know where I'm going with this, staring at him and trailing off. The silence stretches on and then continues, neither of us sure of how to vocalize the fact that we like platonically sharing a bed despite neither of us minding the notion. Neither of us have a problem with it, yet we still can't say it.

I consider reaching for him. I feel so awkward now, yet I just want to bring him back. He looks blissfully healthy, his eyes so free of pain or fear. He's so oblivious to what I'm thinking of. So why can't I just touch him?

He looks good right now. His hair is a bushy twisty mess but in a good way, the shiny, ironed fringed replaced with something natural and effortless. I want to point it out but I'm not sure how, still-half finishing my sentence. I look into his eyes, feel a jolt in my chest.

"You look sweet this morning." I blurt, completely not aligned with our context. "I really like the curls in your hair."

He freezes, but it's clear he doesn't think what I've said is weird. It looks like he's forgotten what we're talking about entirely.

Instantly he blushes furiously, pushing his fringe out of the way with clumsy hands and shaking his head at me as if the mess could be eliminated like that. I blink, totally not expecting that reaction.

Of all the things to say. I can't bring myself to regret it though. I don't know what I'm expecting when he lets out a flustered giggle and pulls away, hugging his knees to his chest.

I almost want to implode at how shy he looks. I remember that in this universe I'm still talking to the Dan who straightens it, who has so many insecurities that I'm suddenly determined to make fall away. I'm still an idiot who's blurted the words rather than segued to them, but it's like he's barely even noticed.

So there's that to deal with too. I have to remember the apocalypse wasn't real but Dan's insecurity is. He's more afraid of me rejecting him than of a hug. I tuck this away in my mind, stunned.

"Shut up!" He protests, hiding his face. "It looks awful when it's all curly. I feel like a fucking hobbit."

And it's so normal, such a Dan-like thing to say that the words nearly knock me breathless.

See, it feels different when something reminds you profoundly of how much someone means to you. I've always been attracted to him for sure but this feeling is so much more than attraction. Every single thing he says and every action he makes feels like home, there's so many emotions to go along with it. Love doesn't even begin to describe it, it's just too familiar to just be justified by love.

He's still complaining, not even aware my mind has gone off track. He's still blathering on about his flawed hair like I hadn't just complimented it, fingers still working to fix it as he rambles.

Suddenly, I'm not dream Phil anymore. I'm Phil Lester in love with his Dan and for the first time ever his blush makes sense.

Because he's smiling behind those indignant hands of his and I want to think I know why he likes it. He likes the compliment because it came from me. I've noticed- pretending not to notice maybe, that he's reacted this way in the past too, and it's like a puzzle has fitted into place.

I smile a little to myself, suddenly aware of the code he's speaking in. He'd scoff readily at any stranger, yet his gaze always goes soft if the words coming at him are mine. It's all coming back to me now, pieces of this reality puzzle that is my... life?

"I look gross, too." He babbles on, "I'll have to straighten it after I shower. My hair's honestly the worst."

Then suddenly I'm not Phil but my dream self, watching through a curious lens like my life's been hit like a reset button.

Regular life with Dan is so natural. I've gone from crying to talking about his hair in moments and even though I still feel like night-Phil has hijacked my mind and body and just been crane-dropped back here, I can't help but wonder how normal Phil had never noticed how easily my words affect Dan. I also can't understand how Dan isn't happy with the fluff on his head that looks so inviting and touchable. His dream self liked his hair being touched.

I reach up to muss the ringlets while he's mid-explanation, catching him off guard and turning the rosy patch on his cheek a little rosier. He freezes as I let the strands wrap around my fingers, dragging them through and distracting him thoroughly.

"Stop. It looks amazing." I say softly, surprising myself. I sink my fingers into the fluff and then push it back, mind halfway to my mouth. "You're unfairly beautiful you know. It shouldn't be allowed."

He stops, his mouth falling open slightly as he turns to look at me, eyebrows going up in disbelief.

I've never said that before.

I'd laugh if my emotions weren't such a mess right now, hyper focused on the way his lip is pulling between his teeth as he thinks. He looks so surprised and he's still blushing. It isn't even subtle but simply obvious.

I'd never thought about it before. He doesn't look weirded out in the slightest, he just looks flustered, which I want to utilize to my own advantage now that I know it's possible. It's not the first time I've said something like that, of course. I tell him he's pretty all the time but never so outright as that. I'm just emotional this morning.

"Woah." He breathes hurriedly, breaking the eye contact we've made. "Where did that come from? You must be really tired if you're saying stuff like that. I think I need to feed you."

I realize I'm extremely hungry. It all comes flooding back to me the longer I'm awake, I'm still so lost in that strange hell-world and the epiphany that Dan might care about me too. That said, I'm not going to let him dismiss this. How have we never fallen in love in this universe?

I think about it, who I am and where I am and what's happened so far in my life.

My name is Phil Lester, I'm twenty two years old and I live in a flat by myself in London. I've just graduated university, Dan's just started and he's obviously staying at mine for the night. We're best friends going on a year of knowing each other. I've never felt this way about anyone. Last night we stayed up late and crashed in my bed I guess and I had a dream, one in which this life was cut short but I still had him. It taught me what he meant to me, and now it feels like I've been sent back.

But more importantly, it's made me see Dan, my Dan in a different light. I saw myself from his perspective, a bit strange when I know it's my mind's perception of myself. It felt like so much more than a simple dream to me. Looking at him now, I feel like I've seen something else entirely.

To explain mine and Dan's relationship, it's like trying to define a word that hasn't been invented. We're not just friends but best friends isn't a strong enough word, we're not together romantically but platonic is out of the question. He's quiet and sad but also vibrant and alive when we stay up late together laughing about things that literally no one but us would find funny. It's like some bizarre twist of fate, two people who found each other in the right place at the right time, exactly what the other needed.

Short of uttering the three words I've tried to explain that to him before, to express it the way I see it. He always says he gets it but I don't think he does. It's not an easy thing to tell someone they mean everything to you in more ways than one.

"I agree." I say with a shrug, like I'm not still trying to come to terms with the fact that where I am is real. "I'm not actually tired though, I got a lot of sleep."

A lot of sleep would be an understatement. I'm going to need years to get over this. It's four in the morning and there's tears drying on my face, a knot in my belly and a thousand glowing feelings in my chest. I got a lot of sleep which means I'm not complimenting him in a half-awake bleary haze. I'm awake and therefore coherent.

"O-oh." He stammers, blush only darkening. So he gets the hidden meaning in what I'm saying there too. My words are genuine and he knows it.

"Feed me please." I plead as cutely as possible, already imagining the pancakes he makes. My words break the tension and rolls his eyes, groaning softly to himself. He shoves me halfheartedly.

"I will, you buffoon." He complains. "So demanding. I just woke up. I don't even know why you're sobbing."

"I wasn't sobbing-" I sputter, but he just laughs.

"Yeah, right. You just had something in your eye at four in the bloody a.m."

"I was practicing my manly battle cry." I joke weakly. I can tell he isn't fooled.

"You're so lame."

There's no malice in his words though, he's just smiling at me fondly, shaking his head in a way that goes straight to my heart. If I were to somehow see my own face right now, I'd bet anything that it's currently hosting a very similar expression. To any outsider this situation would make absolutely no sense. We're two teenage guys sitting on my bedroom floor staring at each other like it's all we ever want to do again and the trouble is, it doesn't seem like such a bad thing to do.

His eyes crinkle and I feel that thud of reminder again that this is actually happening, this moment actually exists.

I had a whole lifetime with you last night. I think disbelievingly. We did everything together. Everything we've always wanted.

"It was just a dream." I say audibly, partly to explain it to him but mostly just to say it for myself. It was just a dream. It just feels so impossible.

Brown eyes gaze at me, asking a million things. I can tell he's still perplexed by the severity of my reaction to one dream in the thousands I've had.

I know he doesn't believe in fate, but just like his existence in my life I think this happened for a reason. He's the most beautiful person I've ever met.

"What the hell did you dream about?" He protests, reaching up before I can comprehend it and swiping beneath my eyes, my heart doing a full stop at his thumb brushing my face and wiping the last of the tears away like it's nothing.

"Uh-" this time it's my turn to hide my face, burying it in shame and hiding it in my knees. "I can't explain it, it was just really emotional."

"Did someone hurt you?" He leans against me so that our shoulders touch and I swear he sounds genuinely concerned. It's like he's prepared to actually fight the entity of my imagination, to take down this thing that's so mortally offended both of us. It's unbearably sweet and definitely making me forget how to think.

"You were in there too but there was so much more to it." I try to explain, knowing I'm failing horrendously. "It sounds stupid but some of it was just so sad. I just woke up completely disoriented."

"What?" He laughs fondly. "In your dream? You bloody sap. How could I make you emotional?"

"I said there was more!" I protest. "Don't laugh at me, you could have died in it. It was a lot more complex than that."

Something in his gaze shifts then and he shakes his head, grabbing my elbow and pulling me back into a hug. He still looks amused but not in a mocking way, he's taking it seriously because of my reaction.

I don't deserve him, it's totally unfair.

"It wasn't real." He says gently, not knowing that those exact words are the reason my heart damn near stops. "We're both here and I'm not dead and it might be early but I'm going to make pancakes. Sound good?"

I groan and let his head rest against the side of mine, sighing tiredly as a smile threatens to tug up my cheeks.

"Why are you actually the best?" I mumble, not really meaning to say it aloud.

The fact that the night has been dismissed so easily by him makes it clearer than ever that none of that happened. It makes me feel empty, knowing that I managed to witness a timeline where him and I were in love. It's like I'm starting over again, things are different in this life in the real world. Though the beginning is the same, it's not like Dan is in love with me too. Real life doesn't work like that, it makes me miss it more than I should, really.

Just as I think that he turns his head and holds out his hand for help standing up, jarring me out of my thoughts at the possibility.

Wait. Why exactly can real life not work like that? Who made that conclusion?

The warmth in his gaze and the lingering blush make so much sense suddenly, and I realize I'm an idiot for never asking the question. There's no real reason why I could just conclude there's nothing between us. These feelings don't come out of nowhere. There's reason to prove why I could be stuck like this forever, but with little indication, I could disprove it.

His expression is open, no awkwardness in the natural motion but just reflex. Why couldn't it be possible that maybe he loves me? Why have I always just assumed the feelings were just stuck to one side?

The urge to grin rises up suddenly and I slip my hand into his, helping him to his feet and steadying him when he yawns and wobbles sleepily. My heart starts to race suddenly when he doesn't let go, if anything holding on more securely and meeting my eyes before he looks away and smiles softly as he twines our finger together. Smiles. Like we're sharing a secret.

We're holding hands. My stupid mind squeals. I look at him sheepishly.

We're holding hands, his excited eyes say.

Yeah, I'm smitten with this boy. Obsessed. Never mind anything I'm afraid of, this morning I'm going to let myself take what I can get. Holding hands in uncertainty is still holding hands, which I can't get enough of to begin with.

"Four a.m. breakfast it is then." I proclaim happily, staring at him in awe as his cheeks darken and the hold adjusts so that we can keep the contact while we're walking. Like we're going somewhere more than just out the door and down the hall. My heart starts to pick up pace and I hope to any entity out there that he can't feel it, yet simultaneously wishing I could scream it to him.

It reminds me that this isn't the rarest occurrence. Here in this very apartment, my hands liked to find his while we were watching a movie or on a particularly long, boring train, fiddling with his fingers before letting go. His fingers would catch mine when he wanted my attention or when we were laying side by side on top of my bed covers, talking about everything and nothing at once. We never say anything about it.

His hands, which in theory shouldn't seem like such an exceptional concept, are one of my favourite things about him, from how soft they are to hold to how reassuring they can be in moments like these, settling against mine and making warmth trickle in on all sides. Hands in my dream that drummed on a windowsill, that bled from a fall. Hands that held onto mine as fireflies rose into the air, lighting the darkness on the last quiet night.

Why should I assume that it's only me? I think about my dream again and it's like I've only now opened my eyes.

We leave the room together, bumping each other into the walls and muffling laughs into each other's shoulders. By the time we reach the kitchen the hood has broken. Even so, I still feel warm.

~

Dan's not really aware of it, but I can't stop staring at him.

I stare while he cooks pancakes on my stovetop, pajamas hanging off him and floppy hair curling at the ends. I stare while he giggles about a joke I barely hear, more focused on the warm laugh that comes after. I listen to his rant about university while he eats his creation a few minutes later, watching him drinking my orange juice right out of the carton because we don't care about germs and scrolling mindlessly on his phone on what's probably just another unremarkable morning in his perfectly ordinary life. 

My phone tells me it's September 13, 2010. The weather outside is sunny with a chance of overcast later. The city still exists and apparently there's an event at the market today. I'm here with Dan.

Bit by bit, I'm recognizing the familiar consistencies in the behaviour of both Dans, essentially making each other the same person. He's hyper and talkative today, filling the gaps of silence and taking up space in my home as naturally as you please.

I love how he's loud like this in morning. He's not always voicing loudly but his presence is vibrant, he fills the air with stories to share with me and opinions he has as if he'd been holding his breath all night, just waiting until he could wake up in the morning and tell them all to me at once. He's so reserved sometimes because his self esteem is so low and his personality reluctant, but he lets those walls down when it's just him and I together. Like a secret stowed away it's beauty to witness, another one of those things to add to my list that I'll share with him one day.

It's just- there's a feeling I get from seeing him here in my kitchen as if he belongs there. Using my stovetop. Cooking with my groceries. He fits in here just as well as I do.

There's this notion niggling in the back of my mind that I'm not like this with any of my other friends. Sure I'm close to a lot of people, but not like Dan. I can't even put my finger on what exactly is different but something is, he's always the first person I want to tell everything and I'm the person he comes to stay with whenever school overwhelms him. I remember it all, from when we only knew each other through a screen to now. It feels right, like he was meant to be there.

Of course he makes me a pancake too. I push it around on my plate while trying to hold my gaze on him a few minutes later, our free hands both draped across the breakfast bar despite our sitting on opposite sides.

It's not a large surface, the side of my palm is brushing his and I wonder if he too feels more than just the innocent placement, if that's why his eyes always cast elsewhere. It's not innocent- it's intentional. If he didn't want this, he wouldn't have his arm laying in this awkward way too.

He's looking at something on his phone but then places it down, his full attention on the two of us. I think back to us holding hands walking in here and know there's no way he isn't as well, eyes going to his palm before I can stop myself.

His fingers shift a bit, then so do mine. He stretches out his pinkie, then I do too. I feel my cheeks heat as our hands make contact, fingertips grazing over each other in a way that's totally intentional. It's him that curls his fingers so that we stay touching, catching the tips of mine. I can't even look him in the eye. I know he's looking at me though, so I smile.

I don't know why I've never told him I love him. There's really nothing at all to be standing in my way. Here he is safe and happy right in front of me, and that's definitely more than I could have ever asked for. He's so soft and lovely with his morning features, so sweet to drop everything and make pancakes early in the morning rather than herding me back to bed. This is a Dan that no one else in the world but me gets to see, and there's something special in that.

We sit and eat in a comfortable silence with this unspoken contact between us, his fingers playing with mine and the sounds of the Great British Bake-Off on the tv filling the air. I think again about figuring out what exactly this is between us, how I actually like it a lot. I have no idea what to say though, deciding to worry about that later.

My lounge is bright, the walls white and a couple paintings hung on the wall. The sofa has pillows with cartoon characters on it and there's books, games, and knickknacks on my shelves. A half-tidied board game is sitting on the floor, evidence of Dan and I last night. It makes me feel something deep, an overwhelming sense of home.

"There's this show." He says out of nowhere. I can tell by the time of his voice that he's about to go into his film-critic rant mode, breaking the silence and looking thoughtful.

"Mhm?" I ask. I realize I've recognized this specific tone of his voice. That's definitely not a normal thing for friends to do.

"Yeah." He enthuses. "It's actually so interesting, it's about this guy who solves this homicide operation case by going undercover with the murderer, and it turns out the murderer isn't actually a bad person and he's been battling the corruption of the government the entire time."

He has a strange obsession with tv shows with complex messages, diving into fandoms only to surface several weeks later, seasons deep and full of theories. I can feel the analysis coming in and brace myself, ultimately resolving to watch some with him because as far as I know we have nothing else planned for today.

I chuckle. "Is that so?"

He makes a face at me like I'm not appreciating his culture, when in fact I am.

"It's this entire subtle commentary on the innerworkings of humanity." He points out. "It has an emphasis on politics and media fabrication and the main character's gay-"

My head turns, mouth blurting words without thought.

"I'm gay." I tell him.

Almost immediately, my heart slams into my chest. It keeps beating, frantic and rapid against my ribs and it almost isn't fair, the second stupid outburst in only this morning.

He blinks, cutting off mid-sentence like he can't believe I've interrupted him. I think both our eyes go to our hands and I cough, seeing his expression shift entirely. For two suspended seconds, I can't breathe. I can't let go of him, can't keep holding on.

What the hell? Why did I just up and say that? I've never said anything about it, never felt the urge or needed a reason. I've been awake what, an hour? Held hands with him once?

Then he nods, giggling a bit and I narrow my eyes at him. I'd have thought there'd be more of a reaction, not sure if I'm shocked or relieved.

"What are laughing at, you asshole?" I protest, his giggles devolving into laughter the more flustered I get.

He laughs louder at that, squeezing my hand and then dropping it in order to press his hands to his face, stifling the sound. I wait a few seconds for him to look back up and me and grin at my cheeks which are definitely glowing, unable to hide the embarrassment at blurting probably the only secret I've ever kept from him. At least dream-me had been drunk. I don't even have alcohol to excuse this.

"Nothing." He teases. "Pass the context, idiot."

The relief, immense and sudden washes over me like a wave and I mostly just feel embarrassed. I sputter indignantly and toss a grape at his head, watching it bounce off his chest and into the butter dish.

"Are you kidding me?!" I protest. "I had a whole buildup in my head. Do you know how long I've been rehearsing that?"

"You paid for those grapes, dumbass." He chides, shaking his head at me fondly. "Don't yell at me for wasting them."

I retaliate by throwing another grape, which he catches this time with impossible reflex and pops into his mouth. He looks so impossibly calm about it, meeting my eyes now with a glowing appreciation.

"You were supposed to react!" I shout, pouting at him. I'm defaulting to jokes outwardly but inwardly it feels like another way of letting go, like a step toward being even more comfortable with him than I already am even if it wasn't entirely intended.

"Sucks to be you, I guess." He quips and I swear the cheeky grin is just like the Dan's in my dream, so similar it takes my breath away.

"React!" I insist, voice petulant.

"Ooh." He waves his hands.

"I hate you." I complain, grinning into my hands while he teases me, saying he doubts it.

Dan laughs and suddenly I'm laughing with him, smiling and looking into his eyes only to be met with a smile as well. He props his chin up in his hand and gazes up at me bemusedly, shaking his head slowly as the sun begins to rise outside.

"You idiot." He sighs. "I thought you were supposed to be creative. If you're gonna go coming out while I'm trying to tell you about my show, at least do a segue."

He's still close to my hand but he slips it out to pick up his fork, dragging his fingers over the back of mine before they're gone. It's adding to a list in my head, a catalogue of reasons why he is my favourite person. I can't believe he made that joke while looking right into my eyes as he said it. It's not making it any easier to be in love with him but I don't care.

"You and your show talk." I manage to tease. "I'm sorry I interrupted such a passionate rant."

"Petty bitch." He quirks. I drop my head.

"Ugh." I huff, finally looking away from him and back to the TV. "I've meant to do that forever. You don't even care, do you?"

"Well, I care!" He points out, mouth half-full and eyes distracted. "But not like, in way of opinion. I'm glad you told me but I was reviewing a film, you dolt."

"Mm. You love m-"

I cut myself off, eyes widening as I swear I see him tense. It's so quick, his expression skillfully shifts back into nonchalance but his cheeks are pink again, eyes back to his phone. My mouth goes dry.

"-it." I correct myself. "I exist solely to keep you on your toes."

"You've done that since I used to stalk you." He says with a shrug, voice full of composure. "Don't worry, Philly. I still think you're exciting."

I laugh quietly, feeling ease seep back into the air despite my stupid disruption. Bake-off fills the space and the clink of forks on plates is the only sound for a while, just calm domestic normalness.

When I let my gaze go back to him again later, I notice he's not even looking at the show. His eyes are on some fixed point by the window and he looks calm and thoughtful, obviously deep in thought again. I stare for longer than I care to admit, so in love with his thought spells and the expressions that go with it.

Then he looks at me. I see his expression go serious suddenly and he looks at me in concern, making my eyebrows raise in surprise.

"What?"

He meets my eyes abruptly, the hand nearest to mine twitching and making my heart jump.

"Is that really why you were crying?" He asks gently, too sweet and cautious to be humanly possible.

I raise my eyebrows, too flustered to immediately get what he means. Does he know why my dream made me so emotional now? Has he guessed?

I look at him and he looks back and I can tell he's a bit flustered by asking his own question. I try to smile at him to make sure he doesn't worry and my gaze softens when he immediately relaxes and smiles back, so real it overwhelms me.

"What do you mean?" I ask, the response a second too late.

"Because you were afraid to tell me?" He clarifies. I raise my gaze to meet his eyes and see nothing but support and warmth there, reminding me that he's not going anywhere. "You sounded like you'd been thinking about that stuff for a while and I just like- made fun of you. I'm sorry."

So that's what he's thinking about. Unexpectedly, I laugh.

"No!" I exclaim, smiling at him reassuringly and leaning closer to him across the table. "Of course not! I told you, I had the craziest dream. It was the dream that made me cry, I'm literally as lame as I look."

He opens his mouth as if to argue the last part but evidently gives up, his shoulders realizing visibly in relief.

"You're a right mess." He sighs, rolling his eyes and smiling fondly. "I'll be scooping you off the floor tomorrow in a puddle of your own tears."

I grin. "Probably."

"You're not lame, though."

I'm not expecting the the hand covering mine when I look away so it's with a bit of a jolt that my gaze snaps back up to him when he lays his hand back over mine to make sure I'm paying attention. He doesn't even to realize what's its doing to me. My eyes can't hold on his face.

"It's just a sexuality, Phil." He says. I look at him in surprise and wonder vaguely if he knows how to follow his own advice, knowing how much he denies any of this sort to his own father. He doesn't know I know this, but I wonder silently if his words are for us both.

And once again, it makes me wonder what this all means. Dan in the dream didn't even know how he felt until things started to look reciprocal in a more obvious way. Maybe he doesn't know how he feels about me. We are each other's favourite person and for me that's enough, wishing I knew how to tell him exactly that.

"I guess it is." I say cheerily, reassured nonetheless beneath how impossibly, ridiculously flustered I feel. "And actually right now my sexuality is your pancakes, I don't know what a gay is."

He looks surprised, caught by how easily we've slipped from honesty into banter.

"Sap!" He accuses. I just roll my eyes.

"I'm surprised you didn't see that coming."

Our hands separate and we eat in contented silence after that, watching Bake-off with a practiced kind of familiarity that even in the dream I'd only had with him. I'm adjusting slowly back to reality but it's still seems so strange to feel this much for one person, especially when we haven't ever explicitly said as much.

He picks up his plate after a few minutes and walks over to take mine as well, his arm over me and his chest pressed against my back to reach it. I'm on my own phone now so I'm completely unprepared for the contact, not expecting to have Dan so close to me. He leans over me probably more than necessary, chin resting on my shoulder for the shortest moment and my mind blanks out, thoughts of anything else winking out.

God. My body is aware of every inch of contact. It makes the want to tell him everything I'm feeling burn in my chest like a physical force and I hastily pull up my messenger app distract myself before I say any other stupid things, typing rapidly as he draws back.

Hi. I text my mum, the first person on my list after Dan. How are you? I love you! :)<3

I marvel in the fact that I can do that. I can just text her. I watch the message buffer and then send with my best friend's form still close enough to touch, thinking about dream Phil who didn't know what happened to any of my family.

Dan gives me a weird look for the sappy message but he doesn't comment, taking my plate as well he sets his hand on my lower back, helping himself balance as he straightens.

I don't know if I feel his hand linger on my back for a moment after he's drawn back, I might just imagine it. All I know is that it feels like a ghost when it's gone.

Then I realize that touch actually happened, squeezing my eyes shut before I freak out.

It's fine. I think hurriedly while he wanders to the sink, the heat in my cheeks and the speed of my pulse saying otherwise. I'm fine, I'm good, calm.

No matter how much I feel for him it can't be normal to feel this strongly for someone. There's no way, I don't even know if he feels it too. I'm second-guessing all of it. I don't know what the rules are, I feel like I'm too young to even understand what this feels like.

Breakfast passes and we migrate to the lounge, plopping onto the same sofa with a blanket draped around both our shoulders. We're not touching now and it's almost ironic when he asks me if I want to play our new zombie game, the odd laugh leaving me dismissed as agreeance.

He starts up the game and I more or less lose myself for a moment, comparing the events on the screen to what I saw last night. The plot is dramatic and there's more blood than I think is strictly necessary in this game. Dan seems to love it though, so after a bit I watch him instead.

He talks to me as he plays and I listen to him, listen to the game sounds. I think of my dream and try not to feel weird about what I'm seeing on the screen. I wonder vaguely if I should be writing this down somewhere. I have the weirdest urge to record everything, to document every detail until it's sunken into the pores of my memory.

The whole day feels surreal and it's barely even begun.

~

Mum
9:45 a.m.

Hello child! I'm just wonderful, your father and I found a bake shop the other day that sells the best tea cakes and I thought of you immediately. I was just about to text you about them. Coincidence? O_o
You're so sweet for sending me a good morning text. I love you too!

I can't help but smile widely at seeing the emoticon, noting that she's mirrored the way I texted.

No, text. I remind myself. I do this now. This is who I am.

It's been a recurring theme all morning. My dream-world feels realer than the real world, the only comfortable constant being Dan. It's to the point where I'm constantly correcting myself, reminding myself that I'm not witnessing some bizarre movie. I have a mum and family. I use weird emoticons in my texts.

My phone buzzes again and I see she's added a smile, making it even more real.

Mum. I realize again. My mum is texting me.

My fingers twitch and I feel the odd urge to be in the same room with her just so I can hug her, replying as quickly as I can. Maybe I'll make arrangements with her soon. Dan's still playing the game and his foot nudges mine absently as he shifts, the two of us naturally drifting closer in the effort to situate too many overlong limbs.

I text my brother Martyn too. Then my dad. My auntie. My friend Adam from uni and my best childhood friend Anya. Everyone. Everyone I can think of who suddenly mean everything. It results in my phone blowing up and the realization that I actually know so many people it's kind of hard to believe. We've been on the couch for half the day and now my phone is buzzing every two seconds.

I also text Dan a <3 with no context when he leaves the room to grab a ribena from the fridge in the kitchen. He's only been gone about ten seconds and I can still kind of see him but I want him back here next to me, feeling closer to him than ever despite my restraint. I want to get to know this Dan, my Dan.

It's stupid, ridiculously so and I know that, but I hit send all the same, blushing hard but feeling that little thrill nonetheless because it's so impulsive but I still did it.

I watch him stop by the door of the fridge as his phone buzzes and then pull it out, looking down at his screen for what feels like ages. I can tell when he sees it, the look on his face shifts from neutral to something else entirely.

I don't know what the expression flickering over his face means. He stares down at his phone and I nearly look away from him in terror, am about to until his eyes snap mine and I'm caught in his gaze.

"Phil." He groans. He rolls his eyes and smiles with pink cheeks, making my chest flood with relief.I smile at the exasperated endearment in his voice when he says my name.

He looks up at me and raises his hands, putting them into a sarcastic heart shape before turning away and filling his drink. Meanwhile, I have to busy myself with the game to keep from laughing giddily.

I pick up his controller and start running his character around recklessly with no idea how the game works, a useless attempt to look busier than I am.

Buzz. I put down my controller and check my own phone, heart blooming with fondness as I look up to see him nonchalantly pouring a glass of Ribena on the breakfast bar, expression jokingly casual. He doesn't say anything but I can see the smile beneath his facade, the dimple in his cheek betraying the smile. I look back down at my screen, forgetting my own expression in favor of staring down.

Dan
7:30 a.m.
<3

I don't realize I'm still staring at it a minute later until I feel a cold nudge at my cheek. He's brought me a glass too.

~

I remember I first realized I loved Dan at a sleepover about a year ago.

A lot can change in a year. One year ago, I still lived with my parents. Last year, hugging Dan was still a novelty. Things have changed since then.

This year, we've both moved to the same city. He goes to school here and I make YouTube videos. I want to say it doesn't mean much that we've set up our lives to keep each other together but the trouble is we have, whether he intended it or not. Dan chose a school that was close to me and I chose a flat close enough for him to take the taxi, our lives intertwined in a way that makes me wonder what I'll ever do when he chooses to leave.

I don't own him, if he decides he's tired of spending all his time with his platonic, semi-long distance best friend then I have to let him go. If he decides one day that he doesn't want me, there's nothing I can do.

That thought terrifies me and yet for whatever reason, that's the thought that suddenly bubbles up into my thoughts when I look at him, my mind slightly preoccupied. It's strange to question your permanence to someone else and more than anything it just makes me want to cling to him and hold tight, to beg him not to leave. I don't remember when life with him began to feel like normal, when time without him felt the opposite.

We're playing Mariokart on the sofa. I keep getting lost in thought and forgetting what I'm doing and he keeps winning, which eventually he starts to notice.

"You know you could stop staring into space and actually give me some competition." He teases me. "In terms of Dan vs Phil I think I've most definitely won."

I jolt back into focus and realize I'd been daydreaming, his lopsided grin holding my focus even as my onscreen kart skids into sixth, disappointing by my standards while his proudly zooms around in first place.

I blink, looking at his soft features. He has no idea where my mind is at and even though I know he'd probably be more than happy to talk about it, oddly enough it feels like I can't. I'm too scared to hear his answer to the question of how long he wants to be like this.

Existentiality isn't usually my thing but this time it's me rather than him having the crisis. All of a sudden I'm worried about how good this feels, how nice it is to waste my entire day on the couch just playing games with him. We've kept this up a year. A year. Surely he must be getting sick of me by now, and what do I do when he does?

It's striking, honestly. The amount this one boy has come to mean to me to the point where I don't know what I'd do without him. I don't want to do any of this without him, I can't stand the idea of having to one day see him tire of me.

I've hesitated a beat too long, responded a moment too late. If I take any longer I bet Dan will be able to see right through me and know something's wrong so I cover it with a joke, giving in to the urge to be closer to him.

"No." I whine, abandoning my controller and and dropping my head onto one of his crossed legs, arms winding around his ankle. "All or nothing."

All or nothing is a sort of unspoken game between us. If in a game we come to a tie or (more often) if I've lost we declare an all or nothing, whoever wins next taking the victory and whatever stupid reward we've come up with.

He looks surprised for all of a second by my impromptu cuddle before he leans forward, warm hands coming in contact with my shoulder.

"No!" He laughs, shoving me harder than necessary out of indignation so that my face ends up squished into his leg. "You aren't pulling that bullshit today. This is my win."

"I was distracted." I retort.

He laughs. "By what?"

I open my mouth to reply and then promptly snap it shut, wondering if the way I look at him makes it evidently clear what it is distracting me.

Apparently it doesn't, because he just shakes his head and lets me hide my face in shame, my head burrowing into his hip.

"Thought as much." He says smugly.

I shake my head, making it quickly apparent to him that I won't be moving anytime soon. It's probably not normal but I feel no resistance from him as my head stays on his legs, just a slight shift as he slouches in a way that's probably terrible for his posture but comfortable to him.

"Do you wanna do another Grand Prix?" He asks, shifting so that his controller hovers over me, clicking back to the menu screen. "Or should I just switch to something else?"

I shrug and glance back at the screen, not much in the mood to move now.

"Just do another cup." I mumble. "I just wanna watch you play for a bit."

I lie my head back down. His thigh is soft and warm and I feel the blanket around us come to cover me as he he puts his arm back down, propping his elbow on my shoulder. I meet his eyes for just a second, staring up as he stares down.

"Are you sure?" He questions. "You won't get bored?"

"You're not boring." I argue. "So I can't be."

"Okay."

His teasing expression fades and I give in to the comfort, tentatively wrapping my arm around his waist in a hug of sorts. I pull myself closer and hold my breath when he doesn't pull away, though his arm hesitates for a moment. He probably doesn't know how to react. I just keep my head in place, my heart in check. I keep still when he moves his hand.

He lowers his hand to my arm and brushes his fingertips over it gently, just slowly running his fingers over my skin. The motion is soft, soothing almost. He falters for only a moment as if to let me know I can tell him to stop but I have no intention of doing so, turning my body and nestling more comfortably into his side, not missing the smile on his face when I do. I take in this boy, this person who I can do things like this so easily with. It's easy to see right now how I could want this for the rest of my life.

We stay there in silence for a bit, his thumb stroking my shoulder while I hold us together. The game menu is still up on the screen and the jaunty music and warm sunlight from the window fill the room but my focus is on the feeling of his soft form and his back and forth motions, a sigh leaving my lips as I shut my eyes drowsily.

I try to remember if Dan and I are usually like this. I'm breathing in and out to the rhythm of the touch, hesitant at times like he's experimenting with it.

"Hope you're enjoying this great underchin angle of my face." He comments softly. It's the first thing either of us have said since he started. I shrug, settling against his hip.

"Don't care. My eyes are shut."

I don't mean to fall asleep, but waking up at four a.m. is beginning to catch up to me. Dan keeps up the motions when he sees my eyes fall shut, the game long forgotten as his fingers trace along my skin. I don't know if I imagine it later on, but I think I feel his hand move to my hair eventually. By that time, I've already fallen asleep.

When I wake up later, the game is still on the menu screen but Dan has moved. He's now sitting in the corner of the room on the floor with his cheap piano keyboard on his lap and the blanket from before is tucked around me comfortably. My head rests on the one of the sofa cushions now, a image crossing my mind of him gently setting it under my head.

I blink and focus on his form which despite being so tall still seems to manage to look small, his limbs all folded and tucked in to fit him into this pocket of my life. He's gazing down and I'm not entirely sure of what he's doing at first.

Until I hear the notes, one after the other and lilting in a way that sounds almost unreal to hear now, even on such a cheap version of the real instrument. It's a deep and starry melody, one that calls up memories of night skies and old houses and a dusty piano in an empty room.

Moonlight sonata.

Up, up, down. Up, up down.

My heart jumps at the familiarity. His fingers dance over the keys, lifting and dropping and notes flowing over and under each other, only punctuated by his own voice and the slightly deeper notes. He doesn't know I'm awake yet so he's fallen into personal-critic mode, occasionally mumbling "wait, no." Or "wrong note."

He doesn't know I can see him. His brow is creased in concentration and he looks sad almost. I recognize this expression, remember it from other times he's gotten lost in thought. The music itself is so pretty, played from memory because he plays by ear better than by lesson, his pace frustrating instructors. He's explained this to me before like it's nothing but it's honestly impressive. I let him play a little longer before I move.

"Hey." I say softly. His head turns and he looks at me, smiling faintly even though the look in his eyes hasn't lifted at all.

"You're awake." His voice is quiet and he's still softly touching the keys, though now his eyes are on me.

I nod, waving my hand to let him know he can carry on.

We sit a few minutes like that, his fingers trailing aimlessly as he fills the silence. I think I know what's happened, it's just that neither of us know what to say. He plays the entirety of the song, our song and I just watch, perfectly content to site here like this a while.

As the last notes trail off I feel the sleepy haze vanish and sit up, turning my head to look him in the eye. He just looks so lost, a shade sadder than he had when I'd been awake. I almost feel bad for leaving him alone.

His eyes meet mine and raise my eyebrows. He sets the keyboard down.

"Come here?" He asks, the words more a feeble question than a command.

My feet register the request before my mind does. I shrug the blanket off my shoulders and do just that, crossing the span of carpet moving to sit down next to him. I put a hand on his shoulder and slide over to sit next to him and his hands drop from the keys immediately, head falling against my chest without any explanation at all.

"Hey." I chide softly, surprised by the blatantly needful gesture. It's not that Dan isn't affectionate, he's just hesitant. He's usually much less outright than me. I wonder what's changed since I drifted off.

I wrap an arm around him hesitantly and he hums quietly, staying where he is with his cheek pressed into my shirt. I take that as the okay to hug him, leaning into his side and remembering all the possible things that could be worrying him.

It's sad that so many things are on this list. It could be school, his tests and slipping marks and decreasing will to even try when he can't stand his degree. His slipping relationship with his parents, the distance between him and his mum and the disapproval of his dad. Maybe even me, maybe I'm stressing him out too.

"How are you feeling?" I ask gently, deciding to start there.

He shrugs.

"Are you tired?"

He shakes his head.

"Sad?"

"Honestly, no." He mumbles into my shirt. "I'm happy because I'm here. It's just- I'm just stressed I guess. It's probably nothing."

I shake my head and rest my chin on the top of his head, letting him settle against my chest. "It's not nothing."

"You think so?"

"Dan."

He laughs but the sound is empty and tired. I see him lift a hand and scrub it across his face, his shoulders bunched. He's cross-legged and leaning into me at an awkward angle but it's clear neither of us mind, his hands slowly falling into his lap.

"Ugh." He sighs, seemingly out of nowhere. "I wish I could just stop time. Thinking about leaving here just makes me feel tired and irritated. It's like the rest of the world is just waiting for me and there's this stupid countdown telling me I'm not gonna be here forever. Like, stress. I feel like it hovers over everything I do and now I'm not allowed to enjoy anything."

My brain feels much more awake then. I shift my arms and sit up a bit straighter, moving his head to lay on my shoulder. He sinks against me gratefully, his curls brushing my neck and his head weighing me down.

"It was obviously worrying enough for you to get up." I joke lightly, hoping to ease whatever this is a bit more. "Not that I'm complaining about the piano."

"It's Moonlight Sonata." He tells me.

I nod. "I know. I love it."

He plays a few bars leant into my side. He's so close and he still hasn't moved, I just want to reach out and run my fingers through his hair. My arm is draped over his shoulder and his back is half against my chest, I'm so focused on the contact I nearly miss when his playing stops.

"I don't want to go back." He says abruptly, and confusion fills my mind.

"Back... where?"

"Uni, obviously." He says bitterly. "Gotta be a lawyer one day."

Ah. So that is what it is then. It's not like this is a new conversation between us but it has the same weight every time.

Dan- a lawyer. I can't see it. It's not who he is.

Every time Dan talks about law, his sentences tend to feature the words family and employable. His family wants him to do it, they'll be proud of him then because a law degree makes you look employable. I can see the way school drains him, the way he comes back to my flat after a long day and curls up in my bed because he can't stand the idea of spending another night in his cinderblock dorm room. By now these two words are the enemy, a mantra he repeats even though it just exhausts him.

I close my eyes and hug him again, the second time in only this morning. And for the second time, for whatever reason, he only holds tighter instead of pulling away. He's holding me for dear life I realize, quickly understanding this is much more than just the normal exhaustion.

"C'mere." I say gently, nudging my chin onto his shoulder and pulling him closer. He buries his face in the side of my neck and I can feel him trembling slightly from anxiousness and frustration, the dead giveaway to just how desperately he wants to never even think of returning.

He stills, and I feel it. Feel the danger, the warning. Feel the ache that he'd covered earlier with happiness and banter over breakfast, though it's not to say that that wasn't real. It was. But this...

"I hate it." He spits. "I hate all my classes and I hate the thought of doing this for the rest of my life. It makes me feel dead inside."

"Dead inside!" I sing, quoting the Muse lyric loudly so that he jumps and then giggles wetly. He shakes his head furiously and the first few tears fall through exasperated laughs and embarrassed eyes hidden in my arms.

He shakes his head and I just squeeze him for a second, hearing him take calm, composing breaths. He's silent for a few seconds before he pulls back enough to look up at me again, not quite in my eyes but close enough, nearer to my chest.

"How is it that you always know what to say?" He mumbles eventually. His eyes are watery and his words abnormally vulnerable and honest, it makes my heart ache, showing me fairly quickly that this isn't as bearable as we can normally make it. This time, something is different.

"Shh. Don't talk." I urge him. He doesn't protest, sniffing reluctantly into my sweater. "Not quite yet."

He pushes the keyboard off his knees and pulls his knees up to his chest, eyes on the floor. His hand wanders absently and he closes his fingers around my wrist at one point, just drawing it to his chest without really speaking.

"I thought I could deal with it." He says later, his breaths much more even now but still a bit croaky. "I thought I could make it through and do at least one thing right with my life and you know just deal with all of it. But I just, I can't do law for the rest of my life. It hasn't even been a year and I'm at my fucking breaking point."

His words go straight to my heart and I bite my lip, wishing I could hug him tighter.

"There's nothing wrong with not wanting your degree." I chide, rubbing his back and feeling the slope of his tense shoulders. "You don't have to get a law degree to be happy. You don't have to please your father to have done something right in your life."

"It sounds so easy when you say it like that." He croaks. "But actually going through with that and believing it is just so damn hard."

"Dan, you're so brilliant." I breathe, my throat closing up just hearing the pain in his voice. "You're so creative and smart, if anything the law degree doesn't deserve you."

He flushes, choking slightly and shaking his head even though I mean every word I've said. "But how is that going to help me in life? I have one life to live, Phil. One life and then I'm gone. How am I ever going to do something with my life if I'm not even in control of it?"

"Do you really thinking being a sad lawyer is what you want out of life?" I ask, hoping it doesn't come across as hurtful.

"No." He spits. "But what- I have no plan. No idea what I could do or what I want. Hell, I don't even know who I am, I feel like I'm living a lie and I wish that I just-"

He cuts himself off, eyes widening before he slumps back down, sighing.

"That you what?"

He shakes his head, I decide not to push.

Curled against my side, a dejected version of who he is, Dan probably has no idea what kind of person I'm seeing now and every day. I don't know how to explain to him that him being so different from everyone else in the first place is what makes him mean so much to me, how I wish with everything in me that he could exist the way he is, a person born to live outside the lines and share his thoughts and laughter and smiles with the world. He's gorgeous and smart and thinks in a way that's so down to earth and full of depth, his awareness of others and the world around him something I can only hope to understand.

"You don't ask for approval from other people, there's a whole world out there for you to screw around in." I tell him. "It's okay to be tired."

"I can't just quit law. My parents paid so much money."

"Yes you can." I breathe. "You can change your major. You could take up a part time job."

"I don't know what I'm doing." He's got his T-shirt ends bunched in his fists and I lower my hand to unclench them, setting my hand over his and watching in disbelief as his fingers relax almost right away.

"Nobody knows what they're doing." I exclaim. "I was supposed to do a film internship and get a job working with some serious business director people. But I didn't, I chose YouTube even though that could have flopped and look, it's fine. It all turned out fine. It's stupid that you're expected to figure out your life at nineteen. Ten years from now you're not even gonna recognize yourself."

"God." He groans. "The future is terrifying. I wish I could just... die. Not like, forever, just temporarily. I want to pass out for a few years and wake up in a timeline where I have my shit together."

The words hurt and I know they hurt him more and out of nowhere I feel a sort of anger. It's not fair that Dan has to go through this over and over again, this same crisis that other students feel too but is sending him into crisis after crisis, this beautiful boy with too many weights on his mind and heart.

"Hey." I shush abruptly. I nudge our shoulders together and he gives a feeble bump back, making warmth pool in my heart.

"Don't think about that right now." I tell him. "Just for today, we're going to pretend that University doesn't exist. It's just going to be you and me, Dan and Phil in their own little bubble and no parents or papers or expectations."

I have a plan forming out of nowhere and I can see him raising his gaze in confusion so I just lean back, wrapping my arms around his front and yanking him back so abruptly he yelps, bringing us both down to the floor. I fall back on the carpet with him on top of me and feel a smile spread when he giggles, elbowing me indignantly but staying where he is.

I prod him to turn around and even though my heart is doing funny things I open my arms to invite him into a proper hug, feeling him oblige as his arms reach out, pulling us together in something undeniably needed in an emergency like this. Crises can sometimes be remedied with a cuddle.

"We're actually going to go outside." I decide. "We're gonna be London tourists and it's going to be really lame, also probably the best day of your young life."

He still looks perplexed but not in a bad way, lifting his watery gaze to shake his head at me like I'm entirely crazy. His nose is inches from mine and I realize it with a jolt, twisting around so my head settles in the nook of his shoulder.

"It's going to be in the back of my mind." He warns, but I just shush him.

"We're not going to let it." I reply evenly. "For one day I'm not even going to let you think about it. You can forget for one day."

To my surprise, he nods.

I'm still holding him and I'm worried that it's too much, that I'm overwhelming him because most people don't see platonic affection the way I do. I could cuddle him for hours if I could, but I doubt he feels the same way. It doesn't matter. This isn't about my feelings for him, this is about Dan and what makes Dan happy.

His breaths are still a bit juddery and I wonder if I should maybe leave him be first. I have no doubt I'll be taking him places today but maybe a nap could help him too. He could have a few more minutes to sort the crisis out in his mind and I could go grab him chocolate from the shops.

Just as I think this he hugs me tighter, effectively stopping me as I move to pull back from him.

"Please don't go." He says softly. "I want to stay here a bit longer."

It's like he can read my mind. This Dan in this world knows me so well, every curve and winding twist in my mind a place of familiarity to him the same as he is to me. We are the only person the other could navigate so well.

So I hold him, settling my head against his hair and feeling him curl into me, the two of us together on my carpet next to a battered piano.

I think of dream me in the Confederation bunker, making those plans of what I'd have done if I could've done over. I think of the life he wanted. How he wanted to ride the big wheel.

"If we're doing the honesty hour thing." I say suddenly, "I was having a crisis earlier today because I was afraid of losing this. Like, us."

He looks up at me, lips turned down in a frown, in question.

"What d'you mean?"

It seems so stupid now, looking at him at this odd angle as I hold him close on my carpet. The TV is still on in the background and one of his feet is wedged between mine, his stresses making mine seem kind of petty.

"I genuinely had this worry earlier that you might get sick of me." I say, feeling better getting it off my chest at least. "You're just- you're such a wonderful person. You are. I know it doesn't feel like it right now. But I worry all the time that I'm too attached to what our friendship is and that one day you won't want to be around me all the time."

"Really?" He doesn't look me in the eye when he asks. It's almost like he's  afraid he's mishearing me. It's so reassuring I want to cry.

"Yeah, yeah. I know it's weird." I say hurriedly. "I just honestly don't think I want to go anywhere."

"I worry about that all the time." He exclaims. I swear it feels like my whole world has stopped rotating. "All the time."

"Oh my god." I breathe. "Okay."

"Like there's so much expectation in life." He goes on. "We have to get out of the house then go to school and find someone and get settled and it's just really shitty. My family always made it seem like if I didn't get an education then I wasn't going to do anything with life because they didn't finish school, my parents."

"I just want to keep doing our sleepover thing." I admit, taking care to omit the most important part. "I don't know why I was so worried. I'm just really glad you understand."

"You're bloody amazing, you know that?" He blurts, blushing almost instantly after. He pulls out of our hug and rolls over so that his head's on my arm. I imitate him, staring up at the ceiling and letting my head settle on his forearm. "What on earth did I do to deserve you? I just cried on your floor because I'm having a midlife crisis at 19 and you just hugged me and somehow made me feel not shit."

"Dan!" I protest, hands flying up to my face. I try to hide it but he lurches up to a sitting stance and grabs my arms, exposing my expression and the blush burning there.

"If you cry too, I'll fight you." He teases.

I blink hard and try to keep them down, knowing sappy, smiling tears are just shameful when he's grinning so wickedly. I can't believe I'd been tense and sad just before. It's literally like we can't be serious together.

"You help me all the time." I stammer, shaking my head. "We're symbiotic."

"Fantastic!" He chirps. "I can get behind that. You know what? Your plan sounds great. Let's get the hell out of here."

I manage to sit up without making too much of a fool of myself, only to completely ruin that when he slings an arm around my shoulder unexpectedly and holds up his hand.

At first, I don't know what he wants. He's holding his hand up with his fingers crooked and his thumb down, right in my face before I register that it's half a heart.

He nudges me, a few dumb seconds passing before I snap into action and realize he wants me to do it too. This is Dan, my Dan, grinning at me ear to ear as I slowly catch on to his antics.

I crook my own hand and raise it, baffled, watching as he presses our half-hearts together. Like something out of a Polaroid photo, out of a movie.

The heart sits in my vision, the feeling of his fingers soft and warm. I can barely think let alone speak, wishing I could capture this sight in front of me and simultaneously feeling something funny in my stomach, a kind of jump that only comes from moments with Dan. The same stubborn, wonderful feeling, one that has me giggling before I know it.

"Symbiotes?" He asks softly, somehow managing to make that word sound like the warmest, most affectionate thing ever.

I nod, butterflies alive and fluttering in my chest as he lifts our heart.

"Yeah."

He sets his head on my shoulder suddenly and all my nerves short-circuit. I shake my head and rest my head against his, taking a deep breath and composing myself several times. There's an idea in my head, something dream me had only ever been able to wish for. Dan's a little sad and I want to make it better, I can make it happen one step at a time.

I can smell his shampoo in my nose and it helps clear my head. I lean against him for a moment longer, taking one last look at our heart before I sit up and shrug off the blanket.

I stand up but don't leave him hanging for long, turning around and offering my hand.

"There's somewhere we need to go." I blurt suddenly. "Today."

~

My goal is to give him the best day of his life. It's probably lofty and dramatic, sappy to the extreme if I'm being at all honest but it's what I try to do, dragging him around London until he's forgotten he was stressed at all and we're definitely a bit far from home, surrounded by English and American accents alike as we venture into the more day-trip parts of town.

"Do you ever think about how cool grocery stores are?" I ask him, our arms brushing as we walk side by side down the street. "It's this giant abundance of food, like if someone was locked in one for the rest of their lives they could just live off all of it probably."

Everywhere I walk I'm looking up, marvelling at London's shops and flats and weird lampost-lined streets, in awe of how familiar and comforting they are and how every turn we make takes us somewhere homely. It has me thinking again about how the streets had looked in the apocalypse, all the broken windows and plant growth decaying the scenes. The empty streets I'd imagined are in reality filled with people, two of which I know very well; Dan and me.

True to my word, I've forced him to be a tourist today. I've only lived here a short time myself and had never properly cared to try being impressed when I came here with my mum or family as a child. It helps that I'm seeing the world in a different light after my dream epiphany of sorts, everything seeming even more exceptional and amazing.

I'd made Dan laugh in Tesco when we'd stopped for snacks, stopping in the crisps aisle with a blank look on my face when I realized just how much food there actually was, how it's possible to live a life where finding resources is nowhere as easy or abundant as this.

We've done a lot today. The first stop had actually been fairly close to home just to check that Dan and I had enough money to top up our Oyster cards, I'd planned to go all over the place. It's a big city and there's so much to see and do, I'd dragged him to Trafalgar Square just to show him the lions and then to Leicester just because there was a massive sweet shop that I'd always been too afraid to venture alone. We'd spent the whole morning before that feeding ducks in a park until the Apple store nearby opened and we could leach off the free internet and take dumb photos on the new computers.

In short, it's been heaven. I don't think I've ever ridden as many trains or exercised this much in my life and I can tell Dan's tired too but he's grinning at me, shaking his head at my question and gazing over the edge of the bridge we're crossing to admire the Thames rising up to high tide.

"You're such an idiot." He says fondly, holding a plush llama I'd won in a tourist trap claw machine just so I could not so discreetly give it to him. He's got a shopping bag on his arm from when he'd bought crisps and then candles from a different shop, claiming a good scent is necessary to my health and happiness. "All the history and corporate bullshit around you and you're suddenly in love with Tesco. I wish I had your mind."

"Shut up!" I gasp. I look up ahead and stop him with a hand on his arm, making sure he's faced towards me.

My heart is beating fast but I try not to betray my excitement, trying to pretend this hasn't been what I've been excited to do with him all day.

"Do you know where we are?" I ask quickly.

"No." He laughs, moving to turn around and scan the area. "Why?"

"Good." I exclaim, lurching forward and covering his eyes. "I'm gonna guide you. Don't look until I tell you."

"Phil!" He protests. "You can't- no! You're gonna walk me into a bloody lamppost!"

He goes to pry off my hands but I swat his hands away, huffing indignantly.

"I won't! I won't!" I argue, then suddenly yank him to the left as I nearly collide us with a huffy-looking old couple. "Well, I'll try not to uh, just trust me."

"Never a wise idea." He groans, rubbing his sore shoulder from the pull.

"Symbiotes!" I protest. "Don't forget! I will never leave you astray!"

"Okay it was cute at the time, I admit." He concedes. "That said, I'm about fifty percent certain that letting you control where I walk is just a recipe for me to die."
Even so he's complacent after that, hands cautiously forward but graceful as I guide him past the crowd, eyes on the attraction up ahead that's just across the bridge and down some stairs.

I keep my hands over his eyes and try not to think too hard about how soft his cheeks are or how pretty he looks in the growing evening, black shirt a bit brighter and pink cheeks looking pinker. I can tell he's suspicious when I have to maneuver him down the stairs and then across the crowded boardwalk, earning us a few giggles at the sight of a tall emo-haired nerd boy clumsily guiding another equally awkward, equally tall boy.

It's a long strip and it takes a bit of a wander to get us to where we're going. I watch the distance grow smaller and smaller and see the spokes and pods of the eye grow closer and closer, appearing higher and higher until there's no delaying it anymore and I step us into line with my hand over Dan's eyes, guiding him into place.

We both stop at the same time and I lift my hands away, seeing him blink after being in the dark so long.

"You... you can look now." I say a bit sheepishly, already seeing his eyes go wide.

I gesture up, making his cheeks darken and a small frown of confusion cross his face.

"That's-" I see him crane his neck in disbelief and I feel a wave of shyness as he takes it in, smiling up at the attraction like I've taken him to a five-star hotel or something. "The uh- the big wheel?"

"I've lived here nearly a year and a half and never been on it." I inform him. "That's like, tourist sacrilege. And you've been here nearly four months. It's time to celebrate."

My heart is racing and I hope he takes my burning cheeks for excitement, not for the surreality of actually being here after an amazing day that I had quite literally once only dreamed of. He clearly isn't thinking about school or parents now, his expression a giddy grin and his eyes slightly glazed.

He opens his moth to speak but no words come out, his eyes the colour of caramel in this light.

"Did you-"

"I bought the tickets before we left." I admit, knowing he's already noticed we're in the prepaid line. "I thought you'd like to... it might be fun."

He shakes his head and I can tell he's stunned, a faint smile playing at his lips in disbelief.

"You're amazing." He gets out, rolling his eyes to mask the excitement and joy in his expression that's making me want to implode. "I can't believe you just- fuck you. Don't even reference your username. I hate you."

A lady nearby tuts at him for his swearing but I barely see it, feeling ten times better about what I've done suddenly as his eyes cast up and I see the last of the stress vanish in lieu of a vibrant, lively smile.

The line isn't too long. We stand amongst the slowly thinning crowd and I think about the fact that getting here early was a good idea.

Already people are queuing up behind us, giving me a good idea of how long the wait could have been if I'd brought him here later. I just want to make a good impression for Dan. Even though I know in the back of my mind the wait time to get on probably hardly even matters to him, I can't help but want everything to go perfect.

We move forward bit by bit and I see Dan lift his phone and take a photo from below looking up, the camera capturing the looming shape of the wheel. He looks far too giddy too be here for someone who's been British his entire life, though I suppose he likely didn't get out of Wokingham much.

Still, he has a travelling family. He's seen Portugal and India and other countries I can only imagine right now. It makes me feel irrationally giddy, seeing him react to the Eye in such a way.

Boarding the eye turns out to be interesting. There's four gates, each gate having people directed in to stand as the pods descend to the platform ahead. Dan and I are directed to gate two and told to move quickly as soon as the gates open, apparently we have a matter of seconds to get into our pod before it glides by.

Dan practically vibrates next to me as our pod begins to head down, still mumbling about how this is way too much. I'm giddy too, it isn't even so much the excitement of the attraction so much as the notion that we're going to riding up into the air, high above the city in the pod together that has me thrilled, so much so that when the gate swings open we stumble our way across the platform and into the pod at a run, earning a chuckle from the passengers boarding behind us at two lanky guys acting like children.

It's wonderful. There's an entire pod to stand in but we've somehow ended up pressed right next to each other, and that somehow is we both immediately scooted to the centre with our hands on the polished chrome railing, grinning from ear to ear before the door shuts and miraculously the pod begins to rise, slow and graceful.

There's people everywhere. I can tell that they're tourists just by the way they speak. They chatter excitedly about the interactive map against the rail that points out where to spot all the attractions from high up, the oohs and ahhs at the beginnings of sunset working its way into my blood as I watch the ground and the Thames get smaller and smaller.

We don't even speak at first. Dan has his crisps and he offers the bag to me, I take a few and let the flavour explode in my mouth. Of course of all the places to buy snacks he'd dragged me to Waitrose to get crisps, the only reason I hadn't reprimanded him for wasting so much money on a snack being because I'd promptly bought the pink and white marshmallows there as well.

The rotation is supposed to last half an hour. We've barely lifted half the way up and it already feels ridiculously high, making me shake my head slightly as I realize we're only going to be going higher.

I listen to the people around me talking, getting lost in my own thoughts for a while. My arm rests against Dan's and it's slightly distracting even with the city shrinking below me, the people on the boardwalk shrinking to ants.

I want to turn to Dan and point this out but he looks so content. I go over the day in my head, from the weird wake up to the breakfast to the piano and then everything else. I realize this wasn't just for him because he was having a bad day. This was for both of us, the only two people who fit together in every aspect of life as comfortably as any pair of lovers. There's no way to explain it to him but god do I feel it.

"We have to do this again." Dan exclaims suddenly, breaking the silence when we've risen up even more. "I can't just do this once. I'm coming back as soon as possible, we're doing this again."

I grin at him, feeling the exact same way. "I know."

"I wish we could have days like this all the time." He goes on. "Law school is never going to be as good as my idiot best friend blinding me for a block and a half just to take me on the most famous attraction in London with my overpriced crisps."

And maybe it's because it's exactly what I'd just thought, timed far too perfectly and far too aligned with what I'm feeling but it suddenly gives me an idea. An outrageous, crazy idea.

I stop, wondering how it's taken me this long to reach this conclusion.

"You should move in with me." I say casually, the words bustling out just as I think of them. "Come stay in London. You won't have to stay in a uni hall and we could hang out every night. It'd be awesome, we could do stuff just like this."

Just as I'd expected, a stunned silence follows this. I remember the way Dan in my dream had reacted, the way his thoughts had run wild and he'd wanted nothing more, the idea of never having to go back to his dad so tantalizing. He's gaping at me wide-eyed again and it takes him a long time to think of an answer.

"You just want someone to split the rent." He quips. My shoulders sag a bit. It's just like him to take the safe route. He probably thinks I'm just messing with him, that it's too good to be true.

Dan and his self-depreciation. His comfortable default, possibly a coping mechanism.

I poke his side. "You just don't want to admit that you need my house to do laundry."

"I do." He groans ruefully, the smile returning to his eyes.

My heart has picked up pace in my chest. I imagine Dan in my home, not once in a while but all the time. I imagine more morning hugs. More pancakes. More sleepy smiles over coffee and heart texts and video games at weird hours of the a.m. with him every day. It makes a smile spread on my face.

"So... would you like to?" I ask abruptly.

"I mean, I still have school." He says hesitantly. "I can't pay rent and I need to figure out how I'd get there but it's not like a huge thing, I can't pretend I've never thought about it before when I practically live there anyway."

He's rambling again. Right now my heart is on a tightrope and I'm desperate for him to say yes, even a tentative one since obviously just deciding it here would be incredibly rash.

"But you- you'd think about it?" I venture.

"Yes." He mumbles, hiding his face and looking in the opposite direction. "I would. More than anything. I've already thought about it, you spoon."

I know he doesn't see it, but I feel my heart drop straight down to my toes, swooping in an impossible, wonderful way. He doesn't think it's a weird idea, he thinks it's a brilliant idea. We're not awkwardly discussing it, we're joking about it.

I blink. "You dont even need to think about it?"

"Are you joking?" He asks worriedly. "This isn't a joke, is it?"

"No!" I laugh. "Of course not!"

"Well that settles that, doesn't it?" He blurts, looking away form me with a flustered expression. "I've been fucking dying to ask you that forever."

"I don't even-" I see him raise his eyebrows at me and so I raise them back, questioning.

"Is that want this is about?" He asks teasingly. "Did you bring me up here with this über lovely sunset just to pop the roommate question like a Philly proposal?"

The word proposal sends me back to my dream in a completely unfair, daunting way, making my face burn as I sputter indignantly.

"No, oh my god!" I cry, shouting in embarrassment at what this must look like before remembering the other passengers on here, dropping my voice abruptly.

"Shut up, I literally just thought of it now." I hiss, shoving him and ignoring his adorably cheeky smile. "Maybe it doesn't even have to be this year. It'd be good to get you out of halls and I'm lonely anyway. It solves both our problems."

"Aw." He crows. "So you're saying you'd get to hug me every day. Why are you actually adorable?"

I blink, sure I've misheard him but knowing I haven't.

"I'm not." I stammer. "I just need someone to wreck at Mario kart. That's all."

He goes to speak again but I tune him out, stumbling to another section of the pod even though it means I have sunlight beaming directly into my eyes, feeling so inhumanly flustered it should not be okay.

Now that we're higher up I can see a bit of Trafalgar Square. Hundreds of buildings sit below us, spreading out into the distance.

And wow. Wow. I realize how tiny and insignificant I am. I realize why Dan always gets existential, how this thing we have is once in a lifetime. It hits me just how long I've been wanting this.

Dan's distracted again, eyes alight as the wheel climbs dizzyingly higher and it becomes easy to gaze at the sheer vastness of the city, brown and silver buildings spread out for miles and miles in all directions. There's boats on the river and red buses on the bridge, the Shard and the clock tower both visible out different windows. There's so much to see, virtually an entire city for me to gape at, yet somehow all I can look at is him.

I've literally just ditched him, I've just taken off to sort out my own thoughts but now when I'm up so high and this new possibility is between us the amount I feel for him is almost overwhelming, the real world beautiful and him even more so, more than I could get dream or imagine.

My breath catches in my throat. Before I can think I'm suddenly next to him again, so impossibly drawn to him that I have to catch my breath before there's words bursting out of me all at once.

"Dan." I blurt before I can change my mind, not really intending to say the word aloud. He blinks and turns his head away reluctantly from the window, smiling softly, oblivious to the flush burning in my cheeks or the pounding of my heart. The lighting turns a muted orange and his skin glows in the washed-out pinks and reds beneath the radiance, with no idea of how beautiful he actually is.

He shifts and turns so that he's more pressed to my side, his head sinking on my shoulder sleepily. It makes my heart race and I lift my eyes from his freckled cheeks to the city below, tracing the skyline with my gaze and yet still more focused on the brown hair in the corner of my vision.

"Yeah?" He asks.

But he doesn't stop there, he meets my gaze with a smile and nudges his head into my neck, pressing our sides together so that I couldn't avoid leaving on him if I tried.

He's shy as hell, but he's still doing it. We're supposed to be platonic, but he doesn't care. There's people around us that for all I know could be watching everything or paying us zero mind, and all the while we're miles above the city, my mind is a cloud and and know abruptly with zero uncertainty that I wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

And suddenly I want to do it. I want to say I'm in love, to have a chance at everything I've ever wanted. He's here and I have his full attention, his expression calm and curious.

"I uh-" we meet eyes for a very brief second and all my courage dies, I try to imagine the half-lifes and Cat and the real fears and somehow it actually helps, my real life fears ebbing away in favour of my nightmares and daydreams. I leave him hanging for a moment and he blinks, eyes flicking back to the view and then me again. I hide my face in his hair, flustered.

And then he looks up.

Just looking at him almost proves to be too much. Just by meeting his gaze my minds is racing, filling my thoughts with nothing more than a desperate hope.

I really hope he likes me too. I think feebly.

Because I know that I definitely like him. I don't just like him, I'm in love with him. This is love in its purest form; nothing more and nothing less. He has absolutely no idea and I feel like he should, it shells my entire heart in feeling.

"There's um, something I wanna tell you." I confess. "but..."

"But what?"

He definitely looks nervous. It's a testament to how well we know each other that he can read these small signs in my behaviour and know it's means something big.

I stare at him helplessly, my mouth suddenly unable to spit the words out. It's almost like I'm hoping he'll read my expression and figure it out himself. I can't do it. All the sentiments I poured into our messages, thoughts that flew effortlessly from my fingers to the keyboard, it's nowhere near as easy to say things to his face with his eyes on me even though I mean it with every fibre of my being.

"It sounds really crazy." I get out. "I don't know if I can say it."

My voice hitches at the end of the sentence and I realize I can't look at him, shifting my eyes to look at the buildings below. They're all shiny and whole. Cars meander in masses of softly glowing headlights down the roads. And as for people- There's people everywhere.

They have no idea how lucky they are, how simple they all have it. They're all safe and leading lives full of opportunity, they can do anything they want to do. Never have I been so aware of my insignificance, but I feel powerful all the same. Because I can do anything too.

This is my world. I remind myself. I can do anything I want.

"What's wrong?" He asks worriedly. "Is everything okay?"

I'm in love with you. That's it. I'm fine, I'm just hopelessly in love with you.

"Oh- yeah!" I exclaim quickly, "everything's fine! It's not really a problem even, it's just... kind of a big deal."

He raises his eyebrows, curiosity getting the better of him now.

"Yeah?" I know he doesn't know about the dream I've had, about the words that version of him had said. I'd seen right into his perspective, and now I'll never see Dan in quite the same way.

"Yeah." I reply with some déjà vu. I'm not sure if it really means anything here.

"What's it about then?" He asks. He shifts his head so that he's standing straight now, but somehow we're even closer anyway. "Is it your channel? Give me a hint."

It's definitely not my YouTube channel. Apparently his mind is thinking I've achieved some overnight fame, ever oblivious that my thoughts could centre on him. How could he not even have a guess?

"No. It's... you." I manage bluntly. "There's something I want to say a-about you."

Immediately I curse myself for the stuttering. His expression changes and I see something deeper take over it suddenly, no trace of smiling or jokiness to him now.

He's looking at me with a dawn of realization, gaze alive as if he's just begun to put the pieces together now. Despite himself I feel his hold loosen and my breath catches when I see his expression go dead serious, eyes completely focused on me now.

"Phil." He says softly. My eyes go to his skylit face, to his pale pink lips. I know he sees it but he doesn't comment, just looks at me with something I've never seen. I haven't even said a word really and there's nervousness in his eyes, he looks like he doesn't know whether or not to be scared. "Me?"

All I can do is nod. He looks at me and I look at him and I know we're in public so there's very little we can do but I still feel it, the suggestion. The something-else that might not be what I'm thinking but something personal, he knows that much.

He bites his lip and goes over his words carefully. I wait and I don't know if I'm staring but then he unexpectedly meets my eyes, stopping my thoughts short.

"Does it... scare you to say it?" He asks.

The question holds so many meanings. I'm not even thinking about others around us who may hear. I don't care what they'd say because I'm not seeing them. All I see is him.

I blink hard, trying not to hyperventilate. "Yeah."

Yeah, it scares me a lot.

He stares at me, maybe surprised by my honesty. He doesn't move or touch me in any way but he does hold my gaze, I can practically see the way his intricate mind is racing. I think of my dream self and how he would have taken Dan's hand. I know he always felt nerves about it too.

He looks so serious. I don't dare touch him, he must know what I mean, must not like it because his expression isn't happy anymore. It's stunned, maybe he's guessed or maybe he's trying not to.

Oh my god. My thumping heart gasps. What if he knows. How could he know.

We can't say anything, there's too many people around and not enough words to say. I look to him for the cue even though that's probably unfair, seeing him look equally lost. I end up just nudging his shoulder with mine and then we stand for a minute in silence.

"Then don't." He says abruptly. My heart slams into my chest and I feel a certain element of disappointment, but it's quickly washed out by relief. "It's okay."

He doesn't touch me or look at me. We stand in more silence. I look out my window and he looks out of his, I breathe in once. Breathe out. I swear I can see my heartbeat shuddering against my chest. I know I can certainly hear it.

Why is this so frightening? It's not like Dan and I are strangers. He knows me better than I know myself... and yet.

It's so hard to say. It's a risk, the possibility of making a mistake that could change what we have forever. If he knew, there'd be no way for me to take that back.

"Phil." He says again. I look over at him.

"Yeah?"

I don't know what I'm expecting. His eyes are focused on the Thames below us and the masses of people on the walkway heading into the London Dungeon or admiring Big Ben in the distance. He isn't looking at me, but his words come out honest and small.

"I'm really happy right now." He mumbles.

It makes the knot in my chest loosen a bit with relief, my shoulders relaxing with these few simple words. This time I step closer to him and place my hand half over his on the handrail, covering it and seeing the tension leave his posture when I do.

Sunlight sparkles on the water and for the briefest moment he twines his pinky with mine, subtle but sweet. Maybe, but maybe not. Enough for now.

"Me too." I say honestly. The wheel rotates slowly and other people in the pod mill about without sparing us a second glance, the two of us just as insignificant as anyone else. Even still, I feel like the only person in the world, looking at Dan as he looks back.

I'm enough.

The wheel lowers us back down about half an hour later. We step out with sheepish smiles aimed at the other before he asks what I want to do next. He feels like going for a walk so I get the sudden idea to take him to the nearest tube station, remembering something suddenly that he might appreciate.

~~~

We're walking along Putney Bridge, having taken the tube journey just to come here even though Dan was confused as to why I'd want to be here of all places. It's not exactly a tourist spot but it's beautiful.

I glance at the hotel, at the parking lot where the truck had been parked in my dream. No battered apocalypse cars fill it right now, just family cars and SUVs.

It's hard to believe that I'd dreamed of taking refuge here with Dan and James. In reality the building is tall and shiny, the road filled with cars and buses and people crossing the pavement to reach the station. There's people taking photos by the water and I see Dan eyeing a couple laughing loudly about the way their picture had turned out, the girl shoving her boyfriend and telling him to take it again.

It looks different to see this place in real life and I remind myself of this as I take in the normalcy, barely noticing that Dan has turned to face me until his head turns.

His brown eyes are still filled with energy from the ride on the wheel, the last of the sunlight slanting across his face making his irises vibrant and his skin look warm. Sunset looks good on him. I can't help but stare a bit when he looks this pretty so I do with a sudden spurt of courage and my heart does a funny thing when I notice he's staring at me in the same way.

"Let's take a photo." He says suddenly, jarring me out of my thoughts.

I raise my eyebrows at him, surprised. It's not that we never take pictures because we take lots actually, I just wasn't expecting him to think of it in this moment.

"You want to?" I ask.

"Yeah." He enthuses, smiling so brightly I can hardly compare it to the sad boy I'd consoled by the sofa earlier. "On the bridge. It'll look really nice."

I must hesitate for a moment too long, because he reaches out and grabs my wrist, tugging me forward and making my heart skip a beat.

The sun is starting to sink in the sky by now. We've spent the whole day just trawling around London buying overpriced food and riding the tourist commodity, the early evening sun tingeing everything pink-orange.

Dan drags me a few feet before letting go. The bridge is long and wide, busses pass us by and a lamppost over our heads lights up, providing the perfect lighting as Dan holds out his palm and I pass him my phone, his on less than one tenth of battery.

My phone has better camera quality anyways and I consider pointing this out just to annoy him, the notion a bit of an inside joke between us. He always insists that his phone is the superior brand and takes better photos and I'll always laugh and claim I'm sticking with mine until I die.

I don't though, because suddenly his arm is winding around me and I feel myself pulled gently into his side, making that thought drop. He opens the camera and moves to lift it, cantering us in the screen before he seems to change his mind.

"Wait." He decides suddenly. "You take this. I wanna do something."

Before I can even think the phone is passed into my hand and I laugh, shaking my head.

"My hands are so shaky." I complain. "You always take the pictures because my photos are so bad."

I'm expecting him to laugh too, which he does. What I'm not expecting is for him to set his chin on my shoulder and raise a hand to help me steady my hold, tilting my hand and centring the shot. His chest is pressed against my back again and his eyes are focused up at the camera, so when I look to the screen I can see my startled expression reflected back at me.

"Nah." He argues. "You're fine. Just take a bunch."

So I do. I take photo after photo, the first ones generic and pretty, just him and I smiling with his arm around my shoulder. If I see his eyes wander to me more than the camera than so sue me. If I turn my head to grin at him it's just because I'm happy. It's normal.

He starts to do sillier poses just to make me laugh. I do the same, changing the angle of the camera to more unflattering ones and they just get more horrible, our expressions distorted and his face squishing up to make a double chin that has me giggling so much I can barely take the picture.

I don't really care about what the people around us think. There aren't that many anyway and Dan's laugh is washing over me and creating a bubble of content, carrying me along with it. We laugh and shove each other and whenever we lock eyes we're grinning. Other people probably wish they were us right now.

It's stupid but it's making me fall even more in love with him which I didn't think was possible, a simple road in the middle of the city is somehow being made wonderful just by him.

It all builds up when he wraps both arms around me to place his hands under my chin like a pedestal, displaying me while our cheeks are pressed together, heartbeats synchronous as I see the sheer happiness in my own eyes when I go to take the photo, the sunset brilliant behind us.

He seems to notice the closeness at the same time I do but instead of pulling away he just turns my head towards him, my thumb already halfway to the screen.

Just as I press the capture button Dan leans up gently on his tiptoes and presses a kiss to my cheek, nearly making me drop my phone in shock.

My fingers hit the button way more than once because I'm panicking and I hear a soft giggle in my ear, his breath ghosting my skin as my camera takes a burst. His hands drop from my face and his face buries into my shoulder but he's still giggling, I end up laughing too and he eventually takes the phone to take some more, posing us correctly and muttering something about angles while the ghost feeling of his lips sits on my skin.

I float through the pictures after that, not thinking about the people around us at all.

Dan did that. It's wasn't me. It was Dan. This isn't some dream or wish from my imagination. That happened. That actually happened.

We go back to look at the photos after. We laugh at some because they're blurry or ridiculous, nod at a few without much of any reaction, and then my eyes go to the cheek kiss.

I scroll slowly by it wondering how I should handle it, whether it's a big deal to him or not one at all. Suddenly my whole focus is on how I should react to this, mind racing. I wonder if I should just look at it silently, being nonchalant because surely this could be our normal and I'd be fine. I'd love to live in a world where feeling like this is as easy as breathing. Then I consider making a joke. I don't because it's not funny.

As my thumb goes to swipe over it though he points at it, trying to look casual. I stop, heart thudding against my chest.

"Make sure you send me that later." He says softly. He doesn't look at me as he says it but even in the darkening evening I can tell he means it. Actually, knowing him he probably thought it over ten times before he said it, wondering how exactly I'd take it.

I nod but I can't form words, the dark waters of the Thames still shimmering in the growing darkness. The rest of the pictures in the burst are pictures of the aftermath, my expression of surprise especially evident in the photo that came immediately after.

In the next photo he's smiling against my face, my blush clearly prominent and incriminating me entirely. He meets my eyes and looks at me almost as if in question. He knows what that face means. You'd have to be pretty blind not to see it.

I nod, and this time my smile is genuine, assuring him I don't mind at all. In reality I love it, the sight of Dan's lips on my skin and the way we just look so together.

He smiles back and for a moment we just look at each other, no words at all. We just look, just smile, and it's comfortable.

It makes me realize I might not be alone in this.

It's just a photo, really, but somehow it's more than that. I can feel it in the warmth of his gaze, in the flustered butterflies in my chest. I'd be stupid to believe it means nothing.

His look shifts then. It changes into something contemplative, determined in a way.

"I will." I finally get out, looking him right in the eyes.

I make myself stay staring, almost like I'm proving to the both of us that I'm not scared of whatever this is. My phone is still in his hand and I'm probably still blushing, nothing to hide when I have such pale skin.

"Send me all of them." He says back easily. I think that's the end of it but then he winds his arm through mine and leans into my side, nudging into me with zero explanation and eyeing me curiously as if to say yes, I know exactly what you're thinking.

So I look back, wondering what it would feel like to kiss that sweet little smile.

"I will."

I tuck my phone back into my pocket and we take one last look at the shimmering water, watching the sun go down before heading back to the station, this time to go home.

Home. Like it belongs to both of us. Maybe, hopefully, one day it will.

We walk down the cobbled streets and glance at the hotel as we go by, watching the sun hovering over the water behind it. It's such a nice place for a hotel really. I steal a glance at it before realizing we've reached the tube station, fumbling into my pockets for my Oyster card while Dan giggles.

After that it's like the stakes are raised, mutual curiously getting the best of us and dissolving any nerves that were there before. The walk through the train station passes in a sea of banter and teasing each other just like always, and I'm just astounded at how well we know each other.

When we reach our platform and the train rolls in he holds out his arm like a gentleman gesturing me in, shuttling me through the open door and then following me in. The train is predictably full at the end of the work day so I grab hold of one of the standing poles to grip when the train moves, only to find him reaching for the same one with a coy look on his face.

I grab hold. He grabs the pole just beneath my hand. The train lurches forward and though my balance is bad it's not falling-over-on-the-tube level bad, I'm not a tourist, but I still feign fumbling to sway over into his side, pressing myself against him and then just staying in place.

He raises his eyebrows, then lifts an arm to wind around me. Despite the dozens of tired commuters it suddenly feels like just me and him and I grin, chuckling a she shakes his head.

It becomes a game of sorts; How to Friendship, Advanced Mode. I sneak glances and he sneaks touch, competing back and forth in what hits me suddenly by the time our train travels down most of District Line is flirting, until by Kensington his hand is in mine and we're walking down familiar streets, he's talking about stopping for shakes and I've never felt so at home.

~

When we make it back to the flat we run into a little boy in the hallway, his dad already half inside their own apartment. I have a shake in one hand and Dan's hand in the other, still entwined from the train station.

I feel a tug of familiarity at the sight of them but can't put my finger on why. I feel Dan hesitate ever so slightly and slow so that I'm walking ahead of him. Considering how close we are and how easy our contact is, I'd nearly forgotten today how anxious strangers make him.

My fingers move to pull out of his hold because I don't know my neighbours or what they might think. It's mostly just for Dan, I don't want to embarrass him.

But when I do he just holds tighter. I stop breathing.

That's new.

I turn to duck into our flat across the hall but the little boy sees us, hanging back and turning to wave. He's probably six and has unruly brown curls that match with Dan's, spilling over his forehead.

When I see his face, I nearly stop dead in my tracks.

"Hi!" The kid chirps, staring up at us both with an awestruck expression like he's seeing giants. I manage to half-smile but I'm kind of just gawping, recognizing this kid because I've definitely seen him.

"Hi, what's your name?" Dan asks sweetly, the kid's face lighting up instantly. He steps forward and leans down to shake hands with the boy, making him reach out excitedly.

James, I think.

"My name's James." The boy giggles. He shakes Dan's hand and then produces a yellow dinosaur toy from his pocket, looking down at them and then back up to us. "My daddy calls me Jamie, though. Are you his friends?"

I see his blue eyes flicker to Dan and I's hands. I fight to stay still. My heart is pounding and I know Dan has no idea what's happening, absorbed in conversing instead.

"We just live here." Dan answers, making me wonder if he intentionally meant to say we. "This door and your door are neighbors."

Jamie's eyes move in and he nods enthusiastically. I can hear his father unpacking groceries in the kitchen, probably not aware that his son has gone off. Dan has no idea what's going on in my mind but unlike with most people he has a soft spot when it comes to kids, this becoming immediately evident when for once today, it seems like I don't exist.

"Wanna see my dinosaurs?" He asks Dan, pulling another one out of his pocket and handing them over. "This one is Brontosaurus and this one is Stegosaurus. I have about fifty dinosaurs but both of these ones are plant eaters."

"Oh, are they?" Dan asks warmly, gazing over at me as if to say this is adorable please help.

"And I have fifty." He enthuses.

"Wow." Dan grins at me and I roll my eyes, nudging him with my elbow and feeling him drop my hand to take the toys held out to him.

"They all have names and ranks too. My good guy dinosaurs fight the bad guy ones."

It's only then that Jamie looks up at me and grins. Before I can stop myself I'm smiling back, somewhat struck by the fact that we don't know each other at all.

So James is my neighbor. He'd worked his way into my dreams and changed both dream-Dan and dream-Phil's perspectives on each other. In this world, he's just a cute, friendly kid.

"All right, Jamie." I hear another voice chide bemusedly. "What's going on out here?"

James's dad steps out from the doorway and raises his eyebrows when he sees his kid holding toys out to strangers. I don't immediately get why I feel a jolt of recognition until I look at the man, eyes going wide.

My heart nearly stops, seeing Earring emerge alive and well with a bemused expression on his face. He puts and arm behind him to hold open the door, shaking his head.

My first instinct is to protect Dan, hand faltering at my side until I see a woman in the hall that I've never seen before, tall and black-haired with warm brown eyes who waves at us from behind him. It's only then that I remember his wife. Alive, smiling. An accountant. I know these people. They live across the hall.

"You can see the neighbors again later." Earring chuckles, smiling over at his wife. "Your mum's making dinner right now."

I feel a flutter in my stomach at those words. The neighbors. Like Dan and I are the extension of one person.

"He's not trouble." Dan says kindly. "We don't mind."

Earring looks cleaner in real life. His eyes are a clearer blue and his face is more evenly stubbled. He still has an earring, a gold hoop in the right ear.

He puts a hand on Jamie's shoulder but James squirms out of it, grinning at us before turning and bouncing into his apartment. The man chuckles, watching him go.

It's only then that he seems to notice how close Dan's hand is to mine, the remainder of our hold since Dan let go to take the toys.

"I don't think I've seen you around before." He says suddenly, eyeing Dan. "Well, you maybe. Who's your friend, Lester?"

He doesn't sound judgmental but the question beneath his word makes me seize up, throat closing.

"Dan." I squeak.

Dan eyes me out of the corner of his vision and to my surprise minutely steps closer, lifting a cautious hand to settle on my shoulder. He squeezes it gently and nods, smiling shyly.

"Dan." He confirms.

"Well hi, Dan." Earring says formally, reaching out to shake his hand. Dan takes it, everything about the motion looking awkward. More proof that he deserves more out of life than trying to slog through the formalities of law school, his flimsy handshake endearing more than anything. "I'll see you guys around, yeah?"

"Of course." I say with a smile. He turns away and waves, shutting the door and leaving Dan and I alone in the hall. I see Jamie watching us as the door shuts, Dan's shoulder pressing into mine.

Just before the door closes I see Dan raise his hand up in a wave. I barley have a moment to catch how nice that is, eyes widening before Jamie grins and waves back.

~

"He was so cute. I kind of want to be his friend." Dan says, kicking his shoes into the corner. "Turns out I'm a sucker for kids who share their dinosaurs with me. I wanted to pinch his little cheeks or something."

I smile, but I'm not really thinking of the kid right now. I'm thinking of Dan's hand holding tight in the hallway, assuring me he wasn't letting go. I'm thinking of how happy he looks after our accidental encounter.

"Yeah."

We'd gone to Shakeaway earlier and gotten milkshakes, ordering and paying and then taking them home. Chocolate Malteaser for Dan and caramel for me, we're sitting on my balcony with an old blanket wrapped around us both, a fleecy one covered in penguins that I've had since forever. It's hardly a romantic setting, yet all I can feel is what I feel for him.

The air smells sweet and the atmosphere is lazy. I can feel Dan's shoulder pressed against mine and his socked foot nudging my ankle, winding around the side. We really are those people, finding any excuse for small contact.

Beneath us the city of London sprawls out shimmering and soft. We can only see the apartments and the townhouses immediately ahead, making it feel smaller and more like a pocket of the universe than the city of ten million that it is.

My phone is on the coffee table inside and I hear it ping, reminding me that there's other people who love me and are texting me as we speak. I've left it inside for a reason though, the shifting of the body next to me explanation enough.

This is my home. This is Dan and I in the real world, we're both safe and we're both alive and the future lies before us infinitely. There is no Confederation. No monsters to tear us apart. The only things stopping me from having everything is myself and my irrational fear. The real world is strangely soft and pleasant, I want nothing more than Dan in this moment and maybe ever again.

He holds out his shake to me, nudging my lips with the straw. I don't know if he means it to feel the way it does but my heart jumps at the touch in that spot. Without taking my eyes off his I take a sip and the taste of malt chocolate fills my mouth, so good I shut my eyes and smile at him, letting go of the straw and resting my head on his shoulder.

"Thanks." I say quietly. I offer mine to him.

He obliges, taking a careful sip and then very obviously going back for another. As soon as the second sip passes his lips he groans appreciatively in an over-the-top display of how delicious he finds it. My eyes are on his lips, fixated on the pretty lips and his lopsided smile.

"I would like to extend a humble apology to my arteries." He announces. "Phil Lester doesn't know how to order anything unless it has ten actual mugs of sugar in it. I welcome and accept my death."

He's teasing me but the joke makes a warm glowing ball take shape in my chest, forming slowly and warming me from the inside out, making me grin more.

"Says the boy ordering chocolate malteaser and measuring in mugs." I point out, smirking.

"Mugs is a unit." He insists haughtily.

"Dan Howell, twenty-three mugs tall." I quip, testing it out. "Right. Totally accurate."

"How fucking tall do you think I am?!" He protests. "Do you know how tall twenty three mugs would be?"

I burst out laughing and he grins, rolling his eyes at me. My hair falls into my face and without really thinking about it I brush it out of the way, only to catch him following the motions with his eyes.

I wait for him to look away but he doesn't, just observes me silently.

"You should wear your hair off your forehead more." He says after a pause, smiling shyly when my hand goes up to it self-consciously.

I run my hand over it, dazed slightly.

"Yeah? Why?"

"It looks nice." He says honestly and I know it's not the highest form of compliment I could be given but my heart doesn't seem to realize this, swelling and beaming with affection abruptly.

"You like the quiff?" I ask, prepared to wear a quiff forever if he so much as nods at it.

"Yeah." He chuckles. "I do."

I take his shake out of his hand again to have more and then settle back, watching as he sets his drink off to the side. Between the two of us we've already annihilated about half of his, mine still in the works.

"How many more days are you staying here?" I ask quietly.

"I dunno, maybe one or two." He says, sounding unsure. "I don't really want to leave honestly."

I don't want you to either. I think instantly. I can't actually say it so I just nestle closer to him, conveying the feeling without words.

"Stay." I say instead.

It's the first time since this morning that I notice him stilling at my contact. He ducks his head and unmistakably I notice he sucks in a breath, leaning just the barest amount to nonchalantly nudge himself into my arms.

"For how long?" He asks.

"Dunno. Don't care." I mumble. "Just stay."

I don't care how long he stays. In many ways I wish I could tell him I just want us here forever. It wouldn't be a bad thing to have nothing else.

"You know I could just drop out." He says suddenly.

It's out of nowhere. Literally bursting out of him frantically in the midst of conversation. I catch my breath when I think about how stressed he'd been about this earlier. He's gone from stuck in a rut to a drastic decision to stay with me just like that after it had weighed him all day.

"No, wait." I exclaim, trying to understand how he's become so convicted suddenly. "Why would you want to do that?"

"I'll move in with you." He insists. "I'll just stay with you. I could get a job to help pay the rent or do the YouTube thing." He hurries on as if I'm going to counter him, not meeting my eyes. "You're making money from it, why couldn't I? We could live together and make videos. I know it sounds like a stupid plan but I can't go back to school."

That sounds like a dream come true. I open my mouth, but he's determined to cut me off.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean like, I'd be living off you. I'd help you in any way I can but I'd just rather stay with you and work this out then condemn myself to something that'll make me unhappy for the rest of my life."

I can't say it. I don't know how. But I want to.

"Hold me." I command before I can think better of it. "I need all the holds."

"Why?" He asks wearily, though he's already pulling me into his arms. "Are you still crying after your dream this morning?"

"No, idiot!" I exclaim, shoving him without actually letting him go. "I just need to hide my face because I'm dying of the fact that your idea sounds like the most amazing thing ever and I want to live with you more than anything else."

For a couple seconds, he's silent.

"Really?" He blurts. His cheeks are pink and he looks at me with an expression nothing short of flustered. "But I might not even pass my courses, they're so shit I can't be bothered half the time-"

"You're so smart- you're brilliant, actually. I think you and I will be okay." I point out. "Rent isn't that bad in this building. And I'd get to see you every day."

"I'd help you pay for it, I swear."

"It doesn't matter!" I laugh. "I want you here, Dan."

A new expression crosses his face and he looks up at me with shiny eyes, shaking his head.

"Are you trying to convince me or am I trying to convince you?" He chuckles softly.

I want to make a joke out of it but I'm not really sure what we're doing anymore, it's obvious we both really wanted this. It's just strange to suddenly have it.

I shrug. "I don't really know."

This is real.

I remember that again. It's odd, in this one moment we've suddenly admitted we want to be together, whatever together means for us. It doesn't feel like an announcement or a fanfare-worthy event. It just happened and we both know it's true.

It didn't happen like that last night. In my dream it was complied in moments; A touch of the hand, a rush of blood, a night under the stars.

But in this world everything we do is a moment. Every emotion I feel is heightened when he's around. He's the most important person to ever come into my world, I don't think I'll ever find another person like Dan. Loving him is the easiest feeling on earth. Telling him is the hardest.

I've changed my mind. Suddenly, with the dream I've had and this day behind me I know I want to say it. I trace the lines of the buildings and apartments and pretend I can see the whole city below, steeling myself carefully as a siren picks up several blocks down and gathering my nerves. It all seems so convenient and the moment has timed itself for me to paint it in black and white, to never let there be a doubt again that this is something I can hide.

My head has sunk right down and now my words are almost close enough to brush his neck. He tilts his head and when he looks down our faces are much closer than they've probably ever been before but we don't say anything about it. Just like before on the bridge our eyes meet and we just look, looking without saying anything. It doesn't even feel strange.

"If zombies took over," I say suddenly, "and you woke up one day and the world was ending, what would you do?"

He laughs, pursing his lips as he considers the question. He seems to be taking it seriously. After a few seconds, he's clearly decided.

"I'd fight a zombie for her cell and ring you."

It's so genuine, such a meaningful thing to say when I realize he's just assuming that even at the end of the world we'd still be together.

I shake my head. "Who's to say there'll be cell service in the apocalypse? How do you plan to find me?"

"I'll figure it out." He jokes. His voice goes high-pitched and silly, his hand flying over his heart. "I'll find you in any world, Phil!"

My cheeks burn, his smile growing smug when he sees my reaction. He reaches out and pats my head consolingly as if he knows his cuteness is too much to handle, looking amused. If only he knew.

I wish I could kiss his cheek the way he'd done with mine earlier. The gap between us can't be more than a few inches, how he'd done it so easily is beyond me.

"Aw." I coo instead, voice genuine. "I'd find you too, Dan."

He feigns vomiting and the awkwardness dissipates, both of us laughing but also internally smiling because we both know the other means it.

I trace a smiley face into the condensation on my cup and let it distract me for a couple of seconds, feeling Dan's eyes on me as I set it back down.

I lift my eyes and look over at him, caught by the overwhelming amount of calm I feel right now. I am absolutely at ease when I'm with him, not afraid of judgement or lapses in the conversation. Silence is just another form of existence for us.

For a moment I'm just watching him. Then he half-smiles, raising his eyebrows.

"Hi, Phil."

I bump our shoulders. "Hi."

He sighs contentedly and I see him set his shake down, balancing it on the door frame. At first I don't know why until he turns to properly face me, making me realize he's giving me his full attention.

"Thank you for coming here again." I say quietly.

He bites his lip and his eyes go soft and rounded, a breath leaving his lips before he says anything.

He looks at his hands. "The next time I come back, I'm not leaving again."

I feel something then, a drop like I've just descended on a rollercoaster. Maybe it's the way the words leave so easily, determined and meaningful even if they're shy. It's true, after all. We've just decided to stay if we can, and somehow I'm sure we will.

I turn around with the full intent of just speaking my mind to him, my leg already pressed against his and my heart in my throat, but before I can even say anything I'm interrupted by him already facing me, noses practically brushing. He looks at me nervously but he doesn't move away, the city fading into dark below us.

"You aren't?" I blurt, mind running wild at the look in his eyes.

He looks right at me, blinking slowly and shaking his head.

"No. I promise."

Before I can open my mouth he reaches out a shy hand and brushes the hair back from my face, meeting my eyes and making my heart do a full stop right there.

"I actually decided it this morning." He says carefully. "As soon as you asked me I knew I wanted to. I wanted to even before that."

I blink slowly. "You did?"

"Yeah." He mumbles. "I- you know me. I don't articulate well but I think the idea alone of physically leaving you might actually kill me if I have to do it again."

His words might as well be physically tangible. I feel every single one.

Every move I make suddenly feels like so many things. I hold my breath so it doesn't ghost his lips, but damn is it hard. I'm hyper aware of it, of how close he is. At one time it would have meant nothing, but that time was a long time ago.

The immediate impulse to ask him really?, as if he hadn't just said it aloud. I stop myself at the last second, pushing through my insecurity because I should trust him enough by now to know that he wouldn't say something like that unless he meant it.

I look at my hands. If he can say it, then so can I.

"Me too." I mumble.

"Is it stupid that I want to be with you more than I want to study?" He questions. "Am I throwing my career away?"

He isn't looking me in the eye but he sounds so worried about it, seeming to forget that neither of us have the answers.

But still, I can't think. Is it stupid that I want to be with you.

If I'm not crazy, he really did just say those words.

"Maybe, but I don't care." I get out. "We'll figure it out."

I can say that much, I know it won't be a problem.

He looks at me as if I've just handed him the stars, solidifying a tentative future of not just me or just him but the two of us, together.

It's not a worry for me anymore. I don't have to be afraid of him leaving. He doesn't plan that any time soon.

We share a look then. It's not something that can be explained in a word. It's the kind of look that comes from two people who may not have necessarily known each other forever, but know each other's world all the same.

There's no motion really, we just stare because we're so comfortable with each other that even though we're in the silence we're content, and I can see the meaning perfectly. Best friends but more than best friends, an entirely different word that doesn't have a name.

"Phil, I-" He trails off and I don't know what it is but I feel emotional, suddenly. I get it and he gets it, though I'm sure no one else ever would.

He looks just as tense as I am so in a moment of bravado, I reach out and take his hand just like he did on the train.

He freezes, looking up at me as if in question. Even though every instinct in my body tells me to pull back, to not give the wrong idea I hold on, pushing my fingers between his. It feels entirely different from the other holds from today, more meaningful somehow. It's not the wrong idea, so why would I ever pretend otherwise?

"Don't ever think that I don't want you here." I tell him, voice urgent even though my hands are shaking a bit. "I want you here more than anything. I just l- care about you more than anything. I want you to do what'll make you happy."

I'm not fooling anyone.

His eyes go unreadable and I feel his thumb come up to run over mine, his hold becoming steadier. It suddenly hits me how blatantly romantic it is, my words dying in my mouth.

"You know what I mean." He mumbles suddenly. "Don't you?"

I don't know. I know what I mean. Is that what he means too? He wouldn't say it like that if he didn't, would he? He and I are just alike. I can't expect him to be outright, that's one thing I've never been. Instead of answering I just look up at him which takes everything in me to keep up. For us, that in itself is answer enough.

I nod, even though I don't know. No, I really don't know. But I could be right. And if I'm right, I've seen how things can be. Things can be so much better.

I know I want Dan and if I want that then why shouldn't I be able to try and have him? I'll never find out by tailoring my words and hiding behind smiles. Confession is overrated. Sometimes, when you really get each other, you just know.

I hold my breath. I see the understanding in his expression, the truth and the hesitation because for all he knows he could be wrong too. We could both be thinking of different things, or maybe not. There's only one way to find out.

Fuck it, his eyes say. It jars me and I can see the way his eyes move to my lips, can feel the oddness dissolving that we've gone nearly a minute without speaking while wrapped in the same blanket on my cold, uncomfortable balcony with our backs against the sliding glass door. Despite the urgency in his eyes, he smiles at me. Maybe this is what being in love feels like.

It shocks me a bit. I'd never expected someone as shy as Dan to be so calm about this. He's not even trying to be discrete.

"Y-you know." He stammers out, looking back up at me. "I know we met for first time because I was upset about my dad. It gave you that push to invite me to your parents' and it brought us together because you knew meeting you would make me happy. But..."

His courage fails and he looks away but I don't miss his words even though they're quiet.

"... I don't want to keep coming up with reasons to see you here." He blurts. "I'm not here because of him or because of uni or even just because you're my best friend and I miss you. I never had a reason to do anything before I had you."

My heart is about to beat out of my chest and he's looking right at me, the cautious smile on his face saying so much more than words ever could.

It's the truth, the revelation of what he's really been feeling all day.

"And if I'm going to keep staring at you like you're the fucking sun then maybe I owe you an explanation," He adds, "because you're just- now that I'm looking at you it's not so scary."

I don't think I'll ever be able to speak again. My heart is in my throat and yet somehow, impossibly, I do.

"No?" I breathe, mind not really functioning enough to really get what he's saying.

"No."

There's a lapse and I feel his fingers twitch in my hand.

"I feel the same, if that helps." I say quickly. There's multiple ways he could take that but I let it happen, seeing his eyes go wide.

"O-oh?"

"I'm not really scared of anything to do with you." I explain. "Isn't that what we always talk about? I'm probably more comfortable with you than anyone else."

He takes those words, thinks them over and over in his mind the way he always does. I see him do it, see him work over and analyze those words until he's met my eyes and held the gaze, a kind of question hiding there.

"Am I scary, Phil?" He whispers.

"No." I answer immediately. Probably too fast in all honesty.

"So if I-" He looks at me, hesitating visibly. "God, this was so much easier in my head."

I think I forget how to breathe.

"It always is." I mumble, not even sure what I'm talking about anymore. I squeeze his hand, letting him lift his eyes to mine so he can see the vulnerability in my expression even though it terrifies me, offering him everything I'm feeling and an easy way out, should he want it.

"I'm so glad I'm here." He says firmly.

I nod at that. "I'm glad you're here too."

"I don't want to fuck this up." He admits, voice hesitant in a fearful way that makes my heart melt. "I'm only this open around you. I have this stupid fear that you're secretly going to judge me if I say the wrong thing. What if you suddenly get sick of me one day?"

As if I ever would. I roll my eyes.

"I would never." I protest. "You idiot. I just invited you to move in with me."

"Not directly!" He squeaks. "Wait until you have to spend more than four days with me. You'll change your mind."

"I've spent a week with you before." I remind him. I think back to all the sleepovers, the visits where we lay on my mattress side by side talking about everything or nothing. We've done both, none, all of the above.

"I dare you to make me sick of you." I argue. "Go on. I don't think you could say anything that would surprise me at this point."

"I think you look amazing with your hair pushed back." He challenges. I grin, noticing this little game of sorts that we've fallen into.

I ruffle my own hair, eyeing him. "I think you look amazing in general."

I can see the visible realization on his face, the way I'm testing the waters slowly starting to become clear. I see a hint of his competitiveness, shifting the conversation in a whole new direction.

"You're too good to be friends with me." He tries next. Which is fine, it is, but I don't think I agree.

"Well I'm glad to be friends with you." I argue. "You're great."

"I like your eyes." He blurts. "I think that every bloody time you look at me."

"I like your eyes too." I try to say it nonchalantly, completely failing. I didn't know he thought that, pretty sure I owe him something now too.

"I think you're really pretty. There, I said it." He ducks his head, I turn it back toward me with my free hand. I can't hide my reaction to that. He's definitely upped the stakes.

"Well I... I think you're prettier."

I practically have to force the words out, terrified until his expression breaks into the brightest smile I've ever seen, impossibly happy.

He steadies his gaze, laughing slightly in disbelief. "I love your hugs."

Well I love y-

"I love your shoulders." I tell him. "I like putting my head on your shoulder."

To demonstrate this I lay my head down. He lets me.

"I... my heart almost died when you fell asleep on my lap this morning." He stammers. "And I like when you put your head on my shoulder too."

No. No way. We've fallen into some kind of consensual honesty hour and these words falling from his mouth don't even feel real. He doesn't mind me doing the things I've always wanted, he likes me cuddling into him.

My mouth goes dry but I push on, well-aware that this is out of control.

"My heart did die when you kissed my cheek."

His cheeks darken. I watch him shake his head.

"I don't regret it."

Suddenly, it's incredibly noticeable that we're holding hands, visible and beacon like as if we're under a spotlight. I look at him and he looks at me, leaning slightly closer despite the tremble in my fingers.

"Dan." I say quietly. He just smiles.

"Do you think we were meant to meet each other?" He asks. His voice is quieter than mine, his eyes reflecting the stars.

It's such an interesting way for him to ask, knowing how he normally thinks.

"I know you don't believe in fate." I tell him.

"You just know me far too well if you know that." He points out. "My whole life is just better since you came along."

I go to respond but it seems he isn't finished, his hand squeezing tight.

"Sometimes when I'm having a bad day I'll be in the middle of a crisis just thinking about how easily we could have never met." He admits. "Like you could have never made videos. I could have never watched them. You could've gone on without me, making more videos and never answering my stupid DM. It's kind of terrifying."

"You don't have to worry about that." I say softly. "I'm here and I'm kind of really attached to you."

"Me too." He says instantly. "I might kind of care about you a lot."

I feel my heart thud into my chest. It's too close to home, the lines of dream and reality far too blurred to be completely banter anymore with those words. We can either keep going or stop now, and I don't feel like stopping. He's said the one thing that could make me fall short the most.

Without even speaking we seem to get the same idea, falling forward and lurching into a hug like the day we first met, holds warm and tight and heads tucked into shoulders, flustered giggles breaking the wordlessness of the motion.

I love him. It's the only thought in my mind, the only feeling burning warm and pleasant in every inch of my skin.

"I don't know what I'd do without you." I admit. "I think you're exactly what I needed for most of my life."

"I think we're exactly what each other needed." He sighs. He pulls back, eyes level with mine and expression full of calm and intention. "I can't believe you just articulated that."

"I'm speaking without thinking right now." I say, laughing weakly. "I'm so happy right now."

"You just spoke my mind, Philly. That's not normal even if your grandma's psychic."

He grins cheekily and that's what makes me forget my fear, raising my free hand to his cheek just to hold him in focus for a second, comfortable in a sea of words and inside jokes.

"I think I might care about you a bit too." I joke.

He looks down sheepishly. "I think I might care about you a lot."

"You're a nerd and also my favourite." I quip.

"I think you're an idiot." He retorts.

I know he's joking but there's something choking up my throat when I meet his eyes, a kind of feeling far beyond just joking or sarcasm. In way it isn't all funny to me. I mean these things and I honestly feel it. His fingers push between the ones I have on his face, feeling unusually intimate.

His eyes are the colour of midnight right now and I can see the way he's angling forward, making me forget where I am and why it should matter. I find myself doing the same, fingers curled into his sweater with my heart in my throat.

Now. Right now in this moment more than ever before, I want to kiss him. Every beat of my heart and nerve in my body is focused on him, a smile curling up my lips because I don't feel scared. I just want him, it compels the words lodged in my throat before I can stop them, I look him dead in the eye as he starts to smile faintly, finally voicing what's trapped in my mind.

"I think you're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

He stops in place. His face blooms with colour and I see him glare, betraying every emotion he's trying to hide. It take me a moment to realize those words are mine, just enough of a millisecond that I also see him push down a grin, pressing a hand to his mouth only to yank it back down.

His eyes go from shocked to blank to conflicted so fast I nearly miss it, right up until he laughs faintly and stares right at me.

"Oh, fuck this." He snaps.

I don't think as he leans forward, don't know what's coming next. His hand still rests in mine and I've forgotten how to think entirely.

My heart is pounding. I can hear it in my ears and can feel his hand sliding up to my face, can see his eyes from much closer and feel his breaths. I don't know what to think as he tilts up that shy, sweet face, resting our foreheads together.

I can tell he's nervous but there's no hesitation as he cuts off my thoughts, closing that gap and pressing his lips to mine softly with a warm pressure as if he'd known it all along. He kisses the way he exists, all or nothing.

My hands come up to his cheeks. His lips are soft and warm and the touch is shy, he tastes like chocolate and he kisses as if he doesn't know how I'll respond, firm and insistent that it isn't a mistake and he doesn't regret it. My heart flips over, exploding with feeling in a way that it's never done before and suddenly all that fear seems so irrelevant because this is something I'll never forget.

My eyelids flutter. I feel his hand settle on the small of my back with gentle pressure, carefully pulling me closer just as suddenly, I'm not thinking of questions. I'm not wondering how he feels or what any of this conversation means. There's no confusion here.

I just have time to feel the swell of emotion before I lurch forward and kiss him back soundly, cupping his cheeks and parting my lips against his, pressing them together again. He sighs as I turn myself towards him and crawl in close, curling my fingers into the soft hair I'd been running my hand through just this morning and using my free hand to cup his neck. We're on top of the world, high above the city, my mind is a cloud and he's kissing my fears away.

All day. I realize we've waited all day for this.

He knew. Well, of course he knew. I don't think there's any universe where this couldn't have happened. It's real. We are real. That notion doesn't escape me as I take a moment to just feel him, to run my fingers through his curls and to kiss him slowly, the warm night breeze drifting over us both and the city sounds a soundtrack for tonight.

Somewhere down the street a siren has started up. Ten million people in a city of ten million hearts, we're alone here together with a penguin blanket at our waists and my shakeaway still in one of my hands. I don't feel cold anymore. I feel warm, so warm it could be the height of summer for all I know. I feel drunk off the feeling, hazy and explosive at the same time.

Whatever I've dreamed, this feels so vivid I wonder if I'll ever think about anything else again. His hand over my hip, the summer sounds and the coolness of the glass door at my back. I take in every detail and sear it into my memory, I press forward so that he's almost falling back a bit, revelling in the feeling of his lips and the feeling of kissing someone I love. Love.

Because that's what this is. It's love.

When we draw apart we just pull back a bit and stare, reeling in a state of stunned silence. His face is bright red and I wonder if I'll ever be able to focus on anything again, wonder if my heart will always feel like it does now as it soars a million miles above the world.

He blinks, soft eyes and flushed cheeks filling my vision in all of their glory. I think it's safe to say he shocked us both.

We waver back slightly and he just pulls me back in again, surrounding me again with his arms. I sink into him, gasping in disbelief as my arms wrap around him tightly. I press my face into his shoulder and squeeze my eyes shut, hugging him in a way that I never have, so much meaning and feeling in the motion that I can barely speak.

So he does feel the same. My heart is pounding in my chest and I can still taste him on my lips, my mind reeling at a thousand miles an hour. His thin frame is trembling and before we know it were both giggling like idiots, hiding flustered faces into soft sweater-covered shoulders with no idea of what to do next and hardly caring.

Maybe it wasn't all dream. Maybe there was some reality to it. I have to take a second to open my eyes and see his shoulder in my vision before it registers what's just happened and I gasp, the shake slipping out of my hands.

He catches it before it hits the ground and spills, setting it down gently and laughing, pushing it out of the way and hugging me in a way the makes me feel small and vulnerable, encircled in soft arms and a soft blanket while his face nestles into the top of my head.

I sink into the embrace and shut my eyes, fingers bunched in his shirt.

"So..." he speaks up eventually. "What is it that you really wanted to tell me?"

"Dan." I protest, like a complete idiot. He just laughs, the advantage of bliss like we're in our own world.

"Yes?" He teases, brushing our noses and grinning at me, though I can see his cheeks are still glowing. That's fine. I'm about to burst into flames anyway.

"Shut up!" I exclaim. I hesitate for a moment and then see the nervous expression on his face, relaxing slightly and taking his hand back. I laugh shakily as I bring it to my lips and then press my forehead to his, not really speaking. Not comprehending that I can just do that. "Idiot. As if you'd bring that up now."

His cheeks darken even more at that expression, a world he doesn't even know clashing with ours in perfect parallel. Before I can really process it he leans in gently and presses his lips to mine again, bridging that gap for several seconds and shutting his eyes. I feel the warm pressure and let myself get lost in it, still running my fingers through the curls as I lean forward to kiss him again then once more, two kisses in succession to take it in.

"Dan." I mumble before kissing him again.

"Hm?" He doesn't give me time to answer though, just presses a smiley kiss to my lips as we both laugh, giddy and idiotic off each other. This is better than the dream. This feels more real than anything I've felt in a long time, because it is. It's not scary or dangerous or dramatic. It's just us.

"We're idiots." I mumble. It's all I can get out to say, he's already kissed me again.

This one lasts longer than the first few and when he draws back, it's only far enough to talk to me so that his breaths ghost my mouth when he speaks, and even then there's an otherworldly haze over us, the soft blur of unreality.

"Mm." He chuckles, reaching out and stroking my cheek.

He tastes sweet, like the milkshake. We sit in silence for the longest time, just breathing and I suddenly feel so content it's like the entirety of the universe has just fallen into place.

My brain feels dizzy. "I-"

"I've meant to do that forever." He confesses, sounding hesitant like I might laugh him off. I don't even feel close to laughing, I feel like my heart is about to burst right out of my chest. He shuts his eyes and I set my hand on his cheek, my eyes round and awed.

I think it's this one phrase that flips my whole world upside down, because he's said he meant to do. He's wanted this as much as I have, and that's something I'll never forget.

I shake my head, a laugh shuddering out of me and my eyes still wide with disbelief. "You're gonna be the death of me, mate."

"Mate?!" He sputters.

"No! Shut up!" I shout, loud enough that it echoes slightly and he snorts, punching me in the arm. "What do you want me to say?"

"I dunno. Danny? Bro? Love of my life?"

"You just fucking kissed me." I blurt, the most unromantic exclamation possible as my brain short-circuits.

"Yep." He jokes. "My dad is gonna be pissed."

My heart jolts but he doesn't sound afraid. Just a passing thought that I know has more meaning than he thinks. I don't want that to be what he thinks about right now. I just want Dan to be happy- so impossibly, deliriously happy that he doesn't know what to do with himself.

"You have me now." I say instantly, not wanting him to worry about judgement when he's smiling brighter than the stars.

He looks at me with wide eyes and I feel around until I've found his other hand, squeezing.

"One day, he's going to listen to you." I promise. "It's okay."

"It definitely feels like it right now." He admits, staring sheepishly at my shoulder instead of my eyes.

"It will be." I mumble.

He doesn't speak, just lowers his head and rests his forehead against the crook of my neck.

I look at him and I'm home here, I'm beautiful and I'm vibrant and I can do anything I want to. I have his heart in my hands and my feelings out on display, the weight of his head the softness of his dark curls filling the crevices of my heart.

"I don't care about school." He blurts suddenly. "I don't care about what anyone thinks. I don't care about fucking anything. Life is prefect right now."

I feel a lump in my throat and squeak out some kid of half-sob in response, really ready to just burst into tears.

I drop my head, burying my nose into his curls for the first time in real life. He hums happily, shifting his arms to properly cuddle to my chest and I think I melt a little, heartbeat alive as I squeeze him against me. In the end, I think that's what coaxes the words out of me.

"I love you." I whisper, unable to contain it any longer. I'm half-crying but I don't even care, seeing his eyes go alight. "That's what I wanted to tell you, back on the wheel."

I can tell as soon as his expression changes that this is where our worlds divide.

His eyes go wide, his mouth parts slightly. I stay still and let him feel, let him run the words over his mind and decide what he's feeling and how he wants to take this.

I think about Dan of this world. He is loved. He's sad and gentle and cared for but life gets lonely when you're on your own. Parents aren't perfect and sometimes your best friend is more than that, sometimes he can tell you that too. We've always been in love with each other I'm sure, even when life was just Skype calls and truths and ratings at ninety percent. It's like the universes aligned, he's a phenomenon that probably exists with phenomenon Phil in a hundred different realities. They all end up together someday I'm sure. Dan is someone who only happens once. Blink, and you might miss it.

It's nearly a year of wanting to say it, of all the right moments and wrong timings. It's not out of the blue, it's a long time coming. It doesn't feel new and abrupt. I realize I've been waiting to say it forever.

And even before he smiles, I can see it in his eyes. I think that's why I'm not afraid, the wonderment in his gaze is safe and familiar and best of all, it's real. All of it is real. And who's to say the night wasn't real? Maybe it was just another Phil, showing me what I have.

And Dan does smile. All of a sudden he smiles blindingly, breathing in and letting the expression reach up to his eyes. He meets my eyes and I find myself grinning back, the feeling so strong it's painful while a ball of energy bursts warm and electric in my chest.

He laughs, a giddy obnoxious sound that echoes in the air and sounds so very much like him I want to scream about it. He laughs, falls forward and hugs me and then he keeps on laughing, wild and open in a liberated way that has me giddy and laughing too. I'm quick to bring him back and I yank him to my chest, smiling at him dazedly when he buries his face in the fabric at my shoulder, muffling the euphoria.

"Are you serious?" He breathes, sounding on the brink of disbelief.

I shake my head, smiling at the notion that I wouldn't.

"Of course I am." There isn't a doubt in my mind that I mean it. What's more is the smile on his face when I know he believes it.

He takes a few moments to go over it, but in the end of it I see his smile.

"God, what idiots." He groans. "Did we really just spend months and this whole day just-"

"Hey! We got there in the end!" I protest.

"Good." He mumbles. He sits up a little and there's no hesitation this time when he leans closer, his lips inches from my mouth. "Because honestly... I'm pretty sure I love you too, idiot."

"Pretty sure?!" I protest.

He raises his eyebrows and smiles at me fondly, and suddenly I understand why.

"I love you." He says firmly. "You're a goddamn idiot and I love you and I've loved you since before we met."

Bam. It's like the words have physically struck me and for a moment I'm breathless, the words reeling over and over in my mind.

I think it's what makes the tears spring to my eyes. The ones that years later he'll tease me for having, never really knowing the full magnitude that is possible to be felt for him. He says it so instantly, so confidently. How can anyone be so sure of me?

I don't know but for once I don't care, refusing to let insecurities get the best of me. In this moment his hands tug me forward and I remember nothing else, replacing everything, all of it, with him.

I turn towards him and situate his face with my hands, meeting that brilliant smile with my own. I feel the smile and I feel the weight, feel the shiver down my spine when I tug down his head to press my mouth to his, drawing him in now without fear.

His lips meet mine again and that's when I close my eyes, the last bit of sundown fading into blackness and the light winking out in a way that, though it sounds chaotic, is the very definition of peace and tranquility. The oranges are mute, the feelings and edges blurred. I see nothing and feel everything, my fears dissolving into nothing as I let myself be kissed. It might be evening outside and he might be my morning, but this gentle, good darkness is what I am in my heart, who I am in this insignificant, ordinary world.

This is the real world. There is no apocalypse and there's no one to hurt him, nothing before us but the rest of our lives. I can kiss him and fear nothing, with nothing to be afraid of but fear itself. I can't be afraid when we've made a promise and told the truth.

The last of the day drains away and we stay together on the balcony until a chill sets into the air, night surrounding us once again. Hours pass and they feel like nothing, not even when I start to feel drowsy and his head is lolling against my chest and we force ourselves to get up, dragging the blanket along behind us and making for my bed, hands hanging loose but still lightly linked.

There's no question when we walk into my bedroom. He changes into sweats and I just flop onto the mattress, rolling just enough to draw the covers around me and breathing in the smell of home, floating on a cloud of feeling.

It isn't even a minute later that I feel the bed dip and Dan crawl over, his warm form slipping under the covers. In a matter of moments there's a body covering the back of mine and arms pulling me close. I sink against his warm form, feeling his breaths fan my neck and nestling again him.

This is the first night we've ever done this, yet it feels like the most natural thing I'll ever do. I want to do this every night for the rest of my life. There's so much we have to work out and understand but we're figuring it out together, the details and complexes fading away as for the first time in my life, it really does feel like everything has fallen into place.

His arms wrap around me and I pull them to my chest, feel his fingers sink between mine. I hold them close and sigh deeply, unable to stop smiling.

We lie silently in the dark for a bit and his fingers trace over my wrist, circling and pressing until he leans down and presses his lips lightly to the back of my neck, lingering before drawing away and nudging his nose into my hair instead.

We've settled into love so easily. It's like discovering your old favourite sweater, so warm and familiar it makes you wonder why you ever went without it.

I'm real. It says. You're real. We're real. Dan is here and this is all I've ever wanted, promises made and kept. I have Dan and I feel like I can do anything now. We found love in our own quiet pocket of the world, from miles apart to side by side. Without fear, without danger, here we are.

"I love you." He mumbles suddenly. It's quiet and muffled by my own hair but I still hear it, turning myself slightly so I can make him out in the darkness.

I meet his dark eyes and feel my heart swell, leaning in to brush our noses and smile.

"I love you." I reply, feeling happiness in every drop of blood in my veins. It pools in my chest and flickers in the thrums of my heartbeat, just as alive and electric as we are.

"I love you more." He breathes.

"Love you." It's like we're addicted to saying it. We've waited so long it's bursting out nonstop.

"Love you." He's laughing now, and I'm laughing too. It's beautiful and hilarious and amazing. Now that he knows, I'll say it again and again.

"Love you." I tilt my head and press my lips to his chin, missing his mouth because I can't see him in the dark. He laughs, opening his mouth to reply but I just press my hand over his mouth, refusing to let him win.

He rolls his eyes and pushes me over, telling me to move my butt because I'm crushing his arm. I know it's just a job though because only shortly after his arms are back around me, the duvet being pulled around us both as he tucks the two of us together, the first promise on the first night of what will likely be the first day of the rest of my life.

"Love you." He says evenly, stifling a yawn as he starts to fall asleep.

The room is dark. I know I used to fear the darkness because alone it always seemed so uncertain, just as with my life or Dan's future it was a timeless void, a gaping thing that held nothing but unknown. The night isn't always frightening, though. It can be beautiful and gentle too, it can be chaotic and wonderful like wheel rides and Skype calls and ratings at ninety percent. At one time in my life Dan had been unreachable. Even still, somehow, here we are.

So maybe the night was a dream. Lots of it wasn't real, the monsters weren't real and the terrors aren't true. The wounds we have here can be healed and as far as I know Dan and I have lots of time. There is no Wirrow, no half-lifes or Confederation. As I slowly fall asleep in the arms of the person I love more than anything else, I realize that despite this, the love is still there. It's strong to the point of painful and feels entirely the same. It means everything, it might even outlive me.

So yes, it was just a dream but maybe... maybe there was some reality to it.

I smile faintly and feel Dan pull me closer, letting myself turn around and pulling him to my chest. I bury my face in his hair and he runs his fingers through mine, breathing the other in like we've stopped time itself.

"Please stay here." I tell him quietly. "Don't go home."

It means so much more than he knows, but he doesn't need to know that. It's a long enough story on its own and we have our own to write here in our home, our world, our life. I have all the time to tell him about it anyway. If I ever do, the night can come later.

I know even before he answers that just as he promised, he isn't leaving again. He laughs at my little plea, leaning in gently and pulling me close to press his mouth to mine.

I feel him wrap his arms around me and his smile hasn't gone out, he strokes my cheek gently and gestures to my room.

"I am home."

the end🌙

an: happy 27th birthday, Danny boi. It's 11:39 here. Technically I finished this story on his birthday. Hell ye

I'll write a proper endnote soon. For now, I'm dead.

ty ly bbs <3
Love, Aly

this epilogue is dedicated to Harley because you've been here for it all and I couldn't have done all this without you. I love you.

[2021 edit:] This fic still means a whole fuckton to me and even if it's been years now since night's completion, I'm still here lurking around. I hope this ending brought you some feels, you deserve a smile after the sheer amount of reading you've put yourself through :) -a 🌙