publishing glitches aside, here's the actual chapter! sorry to anyone who was probably 110% confused. (context the last chappie un/re published itself 3 times yey)

All you have is your fire
And the place you need to reach
Don't you ever tame your demons
But always keep 'em on a leash.
-Hozier, Arsonist's Lullaby

Mark

"All the cans and the tall guy's axe, and we can get you across no problem."

The stranger looks up at me and meets my steady gaze expectantly, laying out the offer with a hand on his battered truck.

It's not exactly what I'd been expecting to happen when we'd set out an hour ago, to end up bartering with some sketchy guys in an alleyway while PJ and Chris got further and further away the longer we wasted time. It's funny how life is gradually making less and less sense and everything's getting so unpredictable it makes my head hurt, by now I'm beginning to wonder if it's a curse that we always seem to be at the weirdest places at the worst times. We hadn't actually meant to run into them.

It's been about two hours since we escaped the tunnel. Two hours before that, everything had been fine and dandy. Well not really, we were sleeping in a London Underground maintenance room, the streets above us crawling with confeds, but there had been this illusion that maybe we'd all be okay. It's not like escaping would have been that difficult with Chris leading the way, his year with the confederation taught him a lot more than an outsider would have ever been able to figure out about navigating the underground and avoiding the confederation, but now we've lost Chris, and PJ with him.

They're not dead- I know that at least. Chris and I had talked a lot before any of this happened and he'd told me what he'd learned while working for the confeds, a long and confusing conversation about their objective and how they operate.

In the tunnel, they called off the monsters once they got Chris and PJ. According to what he's told me, this means they probably think Chris knows exactly what we're doing. He betrayed them to help us after all and we'd had a little under three days to run away from them, it probably seemed logical in their minds that we had a plan even when the reality was that we didn't.

The confederation aren't your average comic book villains, he'd told me. They know how to use empathy and compassion as a weapon.

They don't immediately kill the people they want to capture. They see if they can use them, and I at least know that if they seriously want to get ahold of Dan, then they'll be prolonging this hold on them to lure him. As fucked up as that sounds, my friends are being used to bait all of us. I can't help the anger that keeps rising up every time I think of what Chris did and how stupid it was. I wonder if he'd known all along that night that it was happening. I watched the guys take PJ, but PJ knew something. Why else would he have just gone like that?

I hope Dan doesn't know that, but I'm sure he probably does.

For a kid who doesn't act like he feels much, he's clearly smart. It's obvious by the way he chooses to word things and how he acts around certain people, all careful and calculated to their behaviour. He's all deep thoughts and big words, I've gotten to know him a lot better since the first day. He's either so infuriatingly logical and composed I want to punch him in the face or he's ridiculously impulsive, doing stuff that's so stupid it's ended up saving our lives. But right now there's nothing, he's glaring at some fixed point at his feet, pretending he's a brick wall again. Just because he isn't sharing his feelings it doesn't mean they're not there, he literally can't sit still, there's no hiding how exceptionally anxious he is but that isn't seeming to stop him.

I purposefully hold my gaze on him. He doesn't raise his head.

He's blamed himself for my friends getting captured, I realize. Though he hasn't actually confirmed this as a fact or even spoken at all really, it doesn't take a genius to figure that out. It's obvious in the way he won't look at me, the way Phil always seems to be murmuring to him and how up until he had no choice, he'd been dutifully pretending to sleep. As if any of us actually got to sleep after all that. There's something going on that he doesn't want to say to us, and I have no idea how to get it out. He's never going to just up and offer it.

He doesn't trust other people, I remember Marzia telling me while we'd done watch together for that last time. We didn't know it was the last time then, and at that particular point I'd been pissed at Dan, had been gone for hours walking off the anger that would have made me not think twice and shoot him in the head. I'd listened halfheartedly to her and my thoughts more than entirely clouded my judgement, now I wish I'd listened more closely.

Because I bet she would have made everything make sense. Marzia always did a good job of reading and understanding people in a way none of us had the patience to. It was obvious by the time they'd spoken a couple of times that she'd somehow managed to reach him, and it's still so painfully obvious that now she isn't here and that none of us can do the same.

He's well-aware that people don't like him, Mark. She'd said softly. It's not like he's happy about it. He's really good at understanding other people, he's a good listener. It's just that nobody listens to him.

I'm not entirely sure that Dan would be completely and openly honest with me at this point in time, not when he's so furiously trying to feel nothing. He's not as guarded as he thinks he is and it's almost a little sad to see him force so much effort into it. Honestly, despite it all, I like the kid. Really, I do. It's hard to dislike a guy whose best friend literally looks at him like he hung the moon.

It always made me feel like I was missing something in the early days, the way Phil defended him endlessly, and I mean there's a very obvious reason in my mind but vocalizing it would probably get me glared at. Beyond the obvious, there's smaller reasons that I understand too, I guess. The last night in that apartment taught me that much. Dan puts himself second to others at the expense of his own life, and he doesn't give a shit about it. I've never seen anyone so cool with the idea that they could die, and he's a kid. That might actually be the worst part of it. He's only a kid and he's realized and come to terms with the fact that there's a possibility he could die, but he'll yank a gun out of my hand or dive into a conflict anyways.

When we came out of the tunnel, everything was uncertain. We didn't even know where Dan or Phil had gone at that point or how they'd even managed to get back, but the look on Dan's face right before he ran when he did somehow get back told me a lot more than he probably wanted me to know.

Anger. Sadness. Terror. A lot of feelings fought for dominance in my body when I saw my friend dragged away. Throw himself away, more like. I'm still cursing PJ for trying even though I knew it was all his heart and he was terrified for his boyfriend, but when it all comes down to it it was just so stupid.

But it almost didn't compare to when Dan finally made his way back and heard what had gone wrong, his face falling so fast I was stammering to calm him. They got him, they got both of them...

It was true, but it was not the thing to say.

He was devastated. I saw it in his face instantly that he was going to do something drastic. He was off so quickly, bolting away from all of us and only Phil managing to react in time because they're so in tune to each other. In all the time that I've known him, that was the most emotion he'd ever shown. He'd said almost nothing, but the actions said everything. That was almost the worst part of it, it put into perspective how things were really that bad. I think that was the moment it actually sunk in for me, had certainly sent Cat into a panic, and she knew him better than I did, I'm not even sure what we thought, what we predicted he'd do.

It's not like Dan would kill himself. I'd tried to reason. Surely not. My thoughts had actually gone there, the situation had been in fact that dark. We'd climbed the stairs to follow him but we hadn't done it right away. There'd been a long bout of silence where we didn't do anything, unable to do little more than feel uncertain and shocked and just stand there. You wouldn't think we'd be able to stand still or wait around like that, but shock is one hell of a drug. It felt so surreal that Dan taking drastic measures was just as plausible as not making a motion.

And where did they go? We had no way of knowing. Even when we'd come up the stairs into the actual station there was only darkness and empty walls. They'd made it out that fast. Everything was a mess.

By the time we actually found them he was nothing against Phil in that dark brick alley. He wasn't speaking or moving or even crying but just... still. It said so much more than angry words would've been able to. His face was hidden and Phil was holding him like his life depended on it. No fear of my judgement, no defensive distanced gap, that's what really did it for me. Dan wasn't hiding despite how he usually was about the divide between his and Phil's relationship normally. That's how I knew this was so out of our control.

I'm wondering now if he'd been crying. I can't even picture it, don't know if I should. It feels like a violation of his privacy, like the opposite of everything I've gotten used to. I find myself absently scrutinizing his features for any evidence of tears now, despite the fact that he already looks tired and it's been a few hours. Not to mention the strange guys with their eyes on me.

These strangers who've accidentally found their way into our lives, they'd overheard us talking after we'd tried and failed to come up with a plan of action. I hate to say it, to even admit or think about it, but we really have no idea what to do. We're miles away from the edge of London with next to no plan and even less food, with the Confederation actively looking for us and our friends' lives in the balance. We know they're probably in Broxbourne but that's still such a broad area, for every course of action one of us thinks of another thinks of an obstacle. We'd sat against that wall trying to think of anything, it was far too long considering we don't really have time to lose, but then we heard the hum of the truck. It's lucky we didn't shoot anybody on sight, the first thought in mind was that it had been the confederation.

There's only two guys in total but you can tell they're apocalypse-worn and not to be messed with. One guy's got long, dark hair pulled back and an earring in one ear, the other a lumberjack beard and an outfit straight out of the movies. This includes the battered jacket layered over a threadbare muscle shirt, rips and small bloodstains to boot. They walked in to the conversation just as we were trying to figure out what train to take, telling us not to get on the train in this section of the city as way of greeting. Maybe they really want to help us, or maybe they just want our stuff. At this point it seems they want to transport us, the only problem being they want supplies in return.

I definitely had not expected my morning to begin with negotiations, but it's happening all the same.

All the cans and the tall guy's axe. If not for the seriousness of the moment, I might have smirked at how suddenly Phil's gripped his axe, his look threatening any of us to actually try separating him from it. As if we would. It's almost as odd as everything else I've seen lately to see Phil looking so hostile, but after Dan's reaction to losing his crowbar back at the bunker, I can't see them being all that different. I bet that weapon's like a third arm to him, he never lets it out of his sight.

My look involuntarily goes to Dan and I'm hardly surprised to see him staring hard at our visitors, hand shifting ever so slightly to rest on Phil's forearm. Of course. You'd need your own crowbar to separate those idiots, and I'm standing by that conclusion until I die. Phil does relax though, a look of surprise on his face at the contact just like that. One touch- it calms him.

"We have a gun instead." Dan offers hastily, tugging out his own that had failed him in the tunnel and speaking for the first time in hours, helpfully omitting the fact that it's out of bullets. Always one step ahead to help out his buddy. His voice sounds much more confident than I was expecting considering it's a stranger and the circumstance, and he's looking the guy in the eye to assure his offer.

They both raise their eyebrows. This could go very well or very badly depending on whether or not they decide to actually try using it, and I'm not sure if I want to test these guys. I'm not above lying to them, sometimes it's necessary if you want to stay alive, but I don't think they'd see the humour in being given a useless gun with no ammo. I'm eyeing the long machete in the earring guy's belt, fully aware of what he probably uses it for when threatened.

"A gun?" The bearded guy exclaims, I decide to just call him Beard and his friend Earring to save the confusion, I really don't have the patience to try and figure them out. "Where the hell did you get that? Only Confederation people and gangs seem to have those anymore."

The words are out for about three seconds before he seems to draw his own conclusion, glaring at Dan suspiciously. Dan quickly moves to backtrack.

"I bet you hear this a lot, but it's not what it looks like." He says hurriedly.

"Better not be." The man grumbles.

"We're not from around here." I add. "We're actually escaping the confederation, not part of them."

Both of the guys frown and stare blank-faced back at me, very deliberately looking down to make up for the difference in our heights. Seeing how I'd be pissed at an ordinary person for treating my height like a hindrance, I'm resisting the urge to glare.

"You know how many times I've heard that?" The bearded man asks, confused. "So what did you guys do, exactly?"

He seems to be assuming we're criminals, that we wronged the big guys in some way. It's not entirely wrong, but it's not correct either.

I shake my head, smiling slightly in irony. "No, I mean like they captured us and locked us in an actual bunker, and we got away."

Both men turn to look at me and by the sudden change in expressions I think they're assuming I'm joking, except nobody's saying anything as my friends' silence backs me up. That alone tells me another new thing about the confederation, gives a good insight into how captures usually go.

"Hold up." Beard ventures. "You're serious."

"Deadass."

"Now how in hell would you escape them?" He's looking at me like I better have a pretty damn good explanation, and I have to clench my fists because I can feel the frustration building. Keep yourself calm. Keep a level head. If it's for Chris and PJ, I'm gonna have to suck it up.

"Our best friend was a half-life that worked for them." I tell them lowly. "He found out we were alive after one year and that our new friends here-" I gesture to Dan, Phil and Cat, some of whom tense in discomfort that I'm revealing too much in honesty, "-were wanted for some very unpleasant experiments by the confederation. You might notice that he's not with us now, and that's because they found us after we ran away, and managed to capture him."

Earring whistles in approval, raising his eyebrows at us and shaking his head. "Well that's all I need to hear about you guys." He exclaims, a note of sympathy would have been nice but at least he's impressed. "Do you want the deal or not? We can get you around any of them, but we do want the stuff."

We're down to two backpacks, the one shared between Dan and Phil and the one Chris stocked up with stolen Confederation stuff. The latter is the one that we filled with canned food in the main pocket, and after rifling through it carefully this is what the guy's have decided to request in return for getting us out of here fast, which we need done.

"You say you can get us out of here." I venture carefully. "How?"

"It's our job." Earring replies. "We're people smugglers in a friendly sense. We take 'em wherever they want, s'long as they pay us. Money's useless now but food, people will give up anything to escape whatever they're escaping, it's become a pretty solid thing, and supplies usually come out of it too."

"You know we need that food." I argue. "That's all we have. There's no point in escaping the confeds if we starve to death."

"I guess." Beard agrees. "But you guys are in a tight spot. You definitely don't wanna be entering Broxbourne on your own, never mind on foot. That's literally the danger zone to top all danger zones in the city." He looks to his friend and Earring nods, moving forward to finish his sentence.

"I don't wanna say no to that gun though," he adds, "that's something I like to see. So if you really don't think you can find anything once we leave you to your own, I guess you can keep half."

Half is a lot smaller of a number than it probably sounds like. We need this help but we'd be down half our food with four mouths to feed and Dan will then be weaponless, I hardly think these guys can bargain when they're getting a normally Confederation-issue weapon. I go to argue but Phil cuts in, casting me a sideways glance.

"I..." he says slowly," I think that's fair enough."

"Who in this group is the one that makes the decisions?" Beard questions, suddenly looking at Phil instead of me. Phil's eyes widen in confusion.

"None of us." Dan says curtly before either Phil or I can voice anything. "We're a group, not a government."

"Though if it were up to Mark,  I'm sure he'd be our president." Cat jokes. I look at her incredulously but she just rolls her eyes and both of the guys smirk, reaching out to take the stuff they've asked for and expressions immediately getting friendlier.

"Half the cans." I offer, glancing at Dan and Phil. "And we'll take it?"

Oddly enough, I see Dan look to Phil for approval.

Phil shrugs. "I guess. Don't ask me, it's up to you guys."

Felix is oddly silent next to me and I try to shoot him a look, wondering why he's not being vocal. He just shrugs at me and Dan hands over the gun, which Earring takes without even trying it out, as well as several cans of food from where I've left them on the ground tucked in the open backpack. I'm almost a bit worried actually, considering Felix usually likes to ease the tension between us and strangers normally and tends to talk lots to support me. But he's not saying anything, his mouth set in a tight line and his expression blank.

It's a bit tense, but it's our only option. It's either we walk or we take the ride to Broxbourne, and with our limited time there's really only one way to do it.

"All right, get in the back and get down then." The beard guy declares almost immediately. "And don't move. Don't speak either until I tell you we're in the clear. This is where the patrols are, it's a good thing we found you."

We do what we're told. It's a bit awkward to clamber up and then curl up on a patch on the gritty floor of the truck-bed, especially with Phil and Dan on one side and Felix on the other since Felix and I are much shorter than the other two. Cat climbs into a barrel and Earring covers us with a tarp, I swear I feel a stack of jackets or blankets being placed on top of that. Immediately the air warms and it feels slightly claustrophobic, but considering what's outside, I'm not about to say anything.

"Sorry about the bargaining, guys." I hear Earring murmur above us, sounding genuinely apologetic. "We're honestly pretty nice people, my brother's just making sure that if we take you, we'll live."

So those guys are brothers. I immediately pinpoint him to be the kinder one, mentally noting to talk to him first if I have any questions. The bed dips a little as he steps off of it and into the cabin, the sound of canvas being thrown overhead that reminds me of those military trucks with their canvas covers. There's some small scuffs and noises as the roof is secured, and not soon after that the truck revs to life and the engine rumbles, all of us falling forward a bit as the vehicle lurches ungracefully at first.

And then we're moving, and in my mind I can picture the redbrick alleyway drawing away, the mouth of the train station staircase distant in on the next street, whatever direction we're headed in completely unknown. For the most part we do as we're told, staying completely silent, my friends on either side of me breathing softly. If not for the tension that made this hiding a necessity, this would've been a really weird moment for all of us.

From what I've gathered we'd come out of the tunnel in probably one of the worst possible spots. Beard had said this is where the confeds did their patrols, and just the fact that our guides taken the time to hide five people tells me we couldn't have messed up more. I'm not even sure I want to know how this would've gone for us if we'd tried to traverse this way on foot. Probably not great, considering where we currently stand with the government.

I feel a shift to my left and realize Phil has lifted his hand to squeeze Dan's wrist, who in turn releases a tight, tense breath I hadn't even noticed he was holding. I almost envy their assurance in being able to rely on each other's physical contact for comfort. I certainly don't have anything like that going on, and as he puts pressure on his bullet-wounded shoulder, I notice immediately as Dan's face twitches in a wince. I don't know how on earth they can read each other in the near-dark, but Phil's somehow noticed Dan's unhappiness even though he has his back turned to him. Dan's facing me, so it's inevitable I guess that we make eye contact.

"All right, Dan?" I whisper, in no way joking at the this point but genuinely worried about him, still not sure how he's feeling at the moment considering what had occurred just hours ago.

I see his eyes close for a moment as he takes another deep breath, gently tugging his arm away from Phil and drawing it to his chest.

"Not the best." He mumbles, and I'm caught by his honesty.

It basically goes like this. If something seems suspicious and you need a plan from the both of them, you go to Dan. If you want information or you want to have a more laid back, personal conversation just casually, you go to Phil. In general if you want to know anything about them you go to Phil. Not that there's anything wrong with Dan- he's just guarded, indifferent to the extreme sometimes, so this blatant not-fine statement has me actually caught off guard because it's an admission of feeling. At least from what I've figured out.

"We'll be alright." I assure him. Comforting has never been my strong suit but Phil's expression when I say it makes me realize I might have said something in the right direction, if nothing else he looks surprised but the reaction isn't necessarily bad. "We'll get you a new weapon and we'll kick those confed guys' asses. You can get them back for everything."

"How are you holding up?" He asks, ignoring me, and at first I'm gratified by the sentiment until I realize he isn't finished. "You've got people so close to you on either side. I remember the half-life camp. How are you coping with this compromising position?"

"Dan!" I hear Phil exclaim immediately and I remember that he wasn't there for that exchange when it had been just Dan and I. I forgot that'd happened. Now that he's reminded me I almost want to cringe internally, and Phil's thinking his best friend's just being a total asshole.

"Dan Howell." I breathe disbelievingly, shaking my head despite the limited space. "I do believe I just heard you make another joke."

He smiles thinly, a small victory for me seeing how he clearly does not want to.

"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about." Felix supplies confusedly, at least assuring me that he's still here.

That's unfortunate that he doesn't, because Dan and I do.

It's two weeks ago. I'm sitting on the dirt floor of the worst-built prison cell I've ever seen, the sky turning to night above me and the summertime air cooling around me, the smell of blood permeating everything as a bonfire burns in the distance and the shrieks of crazed dogs and psychotic people set my nerves on a wire. The half-life camp. The forest is right there and there's nothing preventing our escape save for the bars between it and us- and the ropes that have us both bound at the limbs.

Dan is sitting behind me, trying to grasp hold of the binds around my wrist with the uncomfortable awareness that we neither know nor like each other in any way. Of all the people to be stuck with, it really just had to be him.

"Sit still." He mumbles. It's like he thinks I'm going to try stopping him when it's our only means of escape. "This is going to be a compromising position."

I can feel him shifting behind me, but I'm frustrated by his words. If he could just pretend that he didn't think he was smarter than me all the time, stop being so condescending and difficult and actually do something for once, now that would be useful. I can't believe I was worried about him before when he came to after Borg hit him. He's nothing more than an asshole, clearly that head wound didn't soften him up one bit.

"Whatever that means."  I spit. I throw my hands back more dramatically, leaving more than a necessary amount of space to work with because he literally has no idea what he's doing, trying to forget that he's still putting himself above me by using words like compromising.

I can feel the ropes binding my wrists grow tighter rather than loosening as Dan fumbles with the knot, fingers slipping as he maneuvers with one hand trying to correct his mistake. My heart is pounding in my chest as I glance around the camp impatiently, positive that at least one of these monsters is going to notice us trying to free ourselves before we manage to even get untied.

It's then that he takes the opportunity to lean directly against my side, head settling against my back as if he was going to fall asleep there. The knot loosens and I'm yanking away almost immediately, in disbelief that he'd try something like that in a moment like this. Just because he's got me there doesn't mean he can just get cozy, if he's doing this deliberately then I'm going to punch him.

"What are you doing?!" I snap, causing him to drop the rope as I whip around. My face is flaming and if I didn't think it might kill him I'd be grabbing him by the collar, staring incredulously at him as my heart begins to pound for another reason. What kind of nerve- ?

"What do you mean what am I doing?" He snaps right back. His eyes are blazing and I see his hands curling into fists, his personality right back to defiant. He glares at me for about two seconds before he seems to put two and two together and his eyes widen. "Are you talking about me leaning on you to get the rope loose? Does that make you uncomfortable?"

I shoot him a look to show I'm not that stupid, seeing his face flush as I nod. He knew exactly what he was doing, I can tell because his face has shown that much.

"Do you really have to do that? Are you trying pull some sort of move on me?"

"I hope it's not too much for you." Dan of the present quips tiredly, his features forming a halfhearted smirk that assures me he doesn't really mean it. "Man, look at all of us and our proximity. Poor Mark, it must be pretty hard."

For a moment I'm stuck just staring at him, in disbelief of how much my view on him has changed. The fact that he's thought to remind me is embarrassing; I thought I knew so much about him back then and I literally had no idea. If he goes to tell everyone now that I'd thought he'd been indirectly flirting with me I'll probably die, but I'm duly impressed that after all the come out and say its, he's finally made a comeback.

Just my luck that he'd bring that up now. I'm well-aware he's just trying to distract me, to divert the attention away from the fact that he's not okay, but there's nothing else I can do about it.

"Oh I don't know how I do it." I reply. "But I think I'll survive."

"Just as long as none of us try to pull a move on y-"

"Shut up!"

I exclaim this at the exact same time the Beard guy does in front of us through the tarp, everyone falling silent but the amusement lingering before melting completely away. It's then that I'm reminded of the current reality but I still try to hold Dan's stare, somewhat fascinated by how much differently this conversation would have turned out had it happened a few weeks ago.

So it's not that Dan and I are close yet. He wouldn't confide in me the way I do with my friends or he does with his, but somehow I no longer feel like I need to do whatever I can to make him look stupid. There was literally a time where my dislike existed on that level. I was honestly determined to hate him for the longest time, it's not like he was any different, but I've learned that his mask is almost entirely a show thing. Knowing he's not as bad as he makes himself out to be makes me want to get into his head.

I hear a shuffling sound, and then Beard's voice through the canvas.

"We're gonna get stopped by a patrol in a few minutes." He tells us quickly. "They're not gonna search us or anything but it's a quarantine zone so they like to guard it. Just stay still and don't make a sound."

This time we do keep our mouths shut. Knowing that confeds could be nearby makes me slow my breathing and press my lips together, taking minimal shallow breaths of the musty air and feeling the gritty wood floor beneath my face as I lie perfectly still. I can't see anything that's going on outside and that's leaving me to go wild with my imagination, I'm picturing the long, narrow brick English buildings with their ornately framed windows in different states of ruin, rusty cars and scattered debris everywhere.

England isn't like America. London, England specifically is imaginably different. When I imagine my hometown back in the US getting swarmed by zombies it always seems so much more like in the movies. People with guns and forming gangs, everybody having five hundred cans of beans to live off of that they stole from the grocery store. Broken down metropolises, the modern buildings in decay, it makes so much more sense in my mind than seeing these 1800s style buildings mixed in with the new and all the historic evidence that made it this far without being touched. I don't know- London in ruin just looks so much more bizarre.

I hear the hum of the engine quiet down a little, feel the momentum reducing, and then all of a sudden the truck rolls to a stop, the tires crunching on the gravelly road.

I hear my friends catch their breath.

Footsteps approach.

"You there! Roll your windows down!" A snappy male voice shouts.

Earring, who's driving must comply because the footsteps draw closer and there's definitely multiple sets of feet around the vehicle, each and every one of them confederation. I know this because of their walk, their steps are careful since anyone could be a murderer but also full of purpose. They know they run this show.

I freeze when I hear someone walk right next my ear outside and lift the canvas flap above our hiding place, peering into the back of the vehicle briefly before letting it close.

"What are you doing here?" The man at Earring's window barks.

I'm imagining someone with a clean-cut look in military garb. His voice is deep and commanding, full of confidence.

"I live here." Earring says calmly. "My brother and I owned an auto garage before all of this, now we live in it."

"Well that at least explains how you still have a vehicle." The man replies curtly. "Not that I don't have proof that you didn't steal it. I don't care, honestly. I'm not the cops."

Earring laughs, and it sounds like he actually finds the man genuinely funny. Now I know how he's lived so long despite being an undercover people smuggler. He knows how to charm the enemy.

"Nope, I didn't steal this baby, she's all mine." He says proudly, his voice convincingly brash. "Don't you guys worry, we'll be keeping out of your way. Just need to get from one place to the other."

I think about the fact that the confeds don't care about theft. I know their objective is more about finding immune people and spreading the disease around, but it's crossing my mind now that I'd always thought there'd be laws and stuff, seeing how they consider themselves the government.

I don't generally like to think or say that I'm afraid, but my heart is ramming horrifically against my chest. These two strangers that we've only just met an hour ago now hold the balance of our lives in their hands, and the people we've just escaped are now one tarp lift away from finding us out. I don't trust them at all at this point, am almost expecting them to turn us in.

"If you're really from around here, you probably know the drill." The man replies. "As long as you don't want us to ask questions?"

There's a short, threatening silence before Beard chuckles from his seat, shifting over, it sounds like, to speak to the confederation man.

"Of course." He responds coolly. I hear him rummage for a moment and then a muted clinking, followed by mutters of approval from the men. I make eye contact with Dan and we clearly come to the same conclusion, raising our eyebrows.

So that's why they wanted the cans.

"This is food, here?" The guy asks him.

"Yep. Take it or leave it."

I hear a chuckle from both parties, and then the footsteps gradually draw away.

"There are armed members all throughout these streets." Another guy warns good-naturedly, as if telling a neighbor it's going to rain. "So don't think you're scot-free if you are up to something."

I shift uncomfortably in place, my arm growing numb beneath me.

"Noted." Beard grumbles.

We obviously can't see what's going on but from the sounds of it the confeds take the food that's been given to them- and I guess technically stolen from them originally, though they don't know that- and send our guides off with a gruff "all right, on your way." The truck revs back up again and we begin slowly ambling forward, Earring driving slowly to conserve fuel. I can feel the bumping of the tires over the uneven asphalt surface and the slight momentum taking us further and further away from the guys, but it's a long time before anyone dares to move or say anything.

A few minutes pass. I feel the truck drive a bit, make a turn, and then another. After a stretch, I hear someone step back into the back of the truck.

"All right, boys." I feel the tarp thrown off me and a gust of fresh air washes over my skin. The four of us scramble up to a sitting position and I immediately feel the pins and needles in my arms and legs, watching as Beard helps Cat climb out of the barrel shortly after freeing us, looking unfazed despite having just spoken to some of the worst people in the country. He turns around to look us up and down and smirks at Dan and Phil, their awkwardly tall bodies definitely not fit to be folded up in this narrow enclosure.

No that we're not in hiding I can actually see the junk stuffed into this vehicle; pieces and parts of various machines, coils of rope, and a bunch of jackets and clothing items that don't all look suited for two grown men. There's little hoodies and t-shirts scattered around, looking more fit for children. It doesn't really impact me in any way, I just sort of see it.

"That street entrance is the only issue we ever run into around here." He tells us offhandedly, stepping back and folding his arms over his chest as he looks at us, probably only really taking the time to take in our actual appearances now. "You guys can come sit in the truck now, just climb in through the back window here."

He gestures to the open space leading to the interior. No one immediately moves so I opt to go first, standing up and glancing at my friends as my numb leg protests, which seems to snap them out of their stupor. Everyone shambles to their feet and watches as I hitch a leg through, already looking at the spot by the passenger window.

I step awkwardly over the divide between the bed of the truck and the backseat, Cat following closely behind me. It's a bit of a feat seeing how I have to turn myself sideways and twist my shoulders to wriggle through, but nobody comments on how ungraceful and stupid the movement must look, so I'm not all that worried.

"Nice ride." I murmur as I slide into the spot, observing the battered leather seats and the otherwise clean and well-kempt interior, Beard climbing past me to settle back into the front seat. Earring has one hand on the wheel and has his eyes fixed on the open road, his brother sitting with arms rested on a grey backpack placed between them.

"You sound American." He observes, looking back at me with a sudden interest and meeting my gaze as one by one Cat, Dan, and Phil join me to sit at my side. Felix stays back and sits with his arms resting on the back window, gazing moodily off at nothing.

"I am American." I tell him. I shift in my seat so that I'm slightly more comfortable, leaning my head against the tinted window and trying to roll the soreness out of my stiff shoulders. "I'm a long way from home." Obviously.

"Wow, I guess." He breathes appreciatively. I see his blue eyes flicker to observe me, then they go back to the road. "What brought you to England of all places?"

"He was already here." Felix explains, his voice tired but his eyes alert. "I had him and some other friends over, we all gathered at my house down in Brighton. That's where we were when all of that shit happened."

It's never been more obvious than in this moment that I'm not English. In a weird way, I don't fit in with anyone in that sense. There's sometimes small things that remind me of who I am, or was anyway, like how I sometimes find myself slipping into my friends' accents when saying certain things, which they obviously don't notice. It makes me feel weirdly homesick, honestly, which is stupid considering that I don't even have a home anymore. There's long stretches of weeks where I forget sometimes that I even had a home, or that my life before was real, but then there's also stuff like this that comes up to remind me.

Mark before the apocalypse, there's an image that would smack me in the face today. He'd probably be confused as hell, looking at my scowls and hearing my thoughts that I keep mostly to myself. Unless I'm yelling at someone, in which case all my thoughts spill out in an ugly mess. That's always fantastic. It's not that I don't know what I'm doing but more that I'm just so angry all the time, it fucks you up to see your old life literally burn before your eyes. And then some.

"I've got two boys." Earring tells us conversationally. "James and Micheal. The two tall guys remind me of them with their straight black hair and curly brown hair. And the height. Although-" in the mirror he looks at Phil and I see his eyebrows go up, then his gaze slides to Dan, "-Jamie's got blue eyes and Mike's got brown ones. But if the faces don't look like little versions of you otherwise..." he chuckles.

I smirk at Dan who's already turning to look at me, daring me to say something about it. It's funny that we've settled in this joke of sorts, he always seems to know when I'm about to tease him. He shakes his head at me, half-smiling before slipping back to his neutral expression.

"Nice." I say anticlimactically, and Dan just rolls his eyes at me.

"You have kids?" Phil asks, looking amazed. He doesn't voice it but I know we're probably both thinking the same thing. There's living kids in the city? In the world? It's pretty bad that the world's gotten to that point.

"That I do." He says with a nod. "I've been a single dad since '04. Their mum left me because she didn't think I'd get anywhere as a welder and that I didn't care about what she wanted, she didn't want the kids either. And look at me now. I hope her accountant job got her far."

Beard chuckles. I shake my head, seeing the shocked look on Phil's face at such blatant bitterness. Poor guy. It's the harsh truth that some people really are that way, it must have been bad if he's carried the grudge that long.

"I bet a welding job is good prep for something like this." I voice knowingly. "I'm imagining blowtorches-"

Earring seems to snap out of his reverie, grinning at me in appreciation. "-correct."

"Spare metal."

"Indeed."

"And a garage that's probably full of tools."

"Home sweet home, baby."

"Dude." Cat breathes, grinning at me and raising her eyebrows. "That's badass."

I return the expression from my friend and shake my head bemusedly, imagining a life where zombies met their match against me and some welder's stuff.

"Thank you." Earring replies, sounding gratified. "It's a dangerous life to live but my kids come before anything. I hate leaving them alone in a world like this."

"Aw." Phil breathes, smiling at Dan. Dan doesn't smile back at him, of course not, but his expression softens, face calmed into something like fondness.

"So wait, before anything, what's your plan, here?" Beard cuts in. "Where are we taking you, exactly?"

"Broxbourne, we said?"

"You don't just go to Broxbourne anymore." He points out. "Walking in there is like walking into the whole operation, even the gangs around here won't do that. You have no idea where you're going, do you?"

I frown, looking at him pointedly. "Not really. It's more about saving our friends."

"Well you'll need a better plan than that then. We'll get you to a safe zone and then stop there for a while, and we can work this all out. I can't concentrate on the road and think at the same time, so we'll have to wait."

"How are you getting gas for this truck, anyway?" I ask curiously. "I'm trusting that you're not confederation, so how are you supplying it?"

The brothers exchange a look as if they're telling a secret, but then seem to decide me knowing doesn't matter.

"We siphon it." Beard tells me helpfully. "There's tons and tons of abandoned cars in the city. Most of them still have some gas in their tanks, it's not all that hard to obtain and stealing isn't illegal. The toughest part is convincing him to get it instead of me. I'm getting sick of the taste of gas in my mouth."

His brother chuckles. "We usually rock-paper-scissors for it. Jamie's standard greeting for us nowadays is who won today, daddy? He like to make me say it even if I smell like gas."

Phil smiles at that and sits forward subtly, leaning against Dan despite having the window seat and therefore a whole area of the car to lean against. He folds his arms and lays his axe across his knees, letting himself be distracted. Dan doesn't protest, he only looks half-conscious anyway. They lean minutely as if pulled by a magnet, keeping their shoulders touched. Again I'm wondering how I've even managed to witness them separating.

How can they sit right next to each other all the time? How do they never tire of each other's company? They aren't really touching, they aren't speaking, but they look about as comfortable as you can get in a stranger's smuggler truck. Phil's got his axe laid across his lap, rubbing at the metal with the corner of his sweater to try and clean it and Dan's just blankly looking at his hands, curling his fingers together and then letting go, fiddling distractedly over and over.

Dan looks awful. His eyes have dark circles under them visibly worse than any of ours and he looks likes he's about to collapse. I wonder if the guides can tell that. They look like they've seen all sorts of people, if they can barter without even hesitating they must be able to read people very well. Though it wasn't evident under the tarp, even his voice sounds like there's something off about him. I make a mental note to ask him about it later.

Or maybe I'll ask Phil. Phil probably knows.

I glance over at Felix and see him staring out through the window, oblivious. I nudge him and he jumps, raising his eyebrows. I nudge my head in their direction. Be subtle. He frowns in irritation and raises his eyebrows as if to go so?

Except Dan notices. He has an uncanny habit of always noticing.

"What?" He asks irritably, and immediately Phil snaps to attention. One wouldn't be the other without their synchronicity. Felix just rolls his eyes and looks away.

"Hm?" I ask innocently, pretending I was just staring off in to space and not completely focused on observing him. I try to ignore my confusion at Felix's being distant, not wanting to believe he's dwelling on our lost friends.

"What are you looking at?" Dan asks more quietly, seeming to regret the harsh tone he'd used before. Technically his reaction made sense, but he doesn't need to know that.

"Nothing." I huff, my words about as nonchalant as it gets and probably believable, considering my sentiment to him is not a familiar part of my personality. It's kind of strange, the impression of a person Dan must have of me. How much I've changed since the start of the apocalypse. If old Mark and new Mark had a conversation of what life was like before, I bet he'd seem like a total stranger.

But then I guess the same goes for Dan too, probably. For all of us. I know nothing about his life; he hasn't spoken about his family, his hobbies, I don't why he is the way he is or why Phil seems to be the only person from his old life that he seems to have any interest in. All I know about him is what he's said or what I've heard, and right now his expression is telling me something.

"Actually- Dan," I blurt suddenly, a thought crossing my mind after looking at him slouching unhappily, "about what happened last night, you know, in the tunnel... that wasn't your fault."

Immediately he stiffens, Phil looking up at me and shaking his head almost imperceptibly. It catches me off guard, the expression, the way he's shooting me the glance like Dan can't know. Felix also snaps up to attention suddenly, making me realize Dan's not the only who's thinking about what happened.

Something crosses Dan's face before he looks away from me hurriedly, glaring at the floor and losing all expression. "Mm."

"I'm serious." I insist, prodding at him anyway.

He doesn't even answer this time, just shrugs. It seems I've hit the nail right on the head. That's what's wrong.

"I don't know what's happened exactly," Beard inputs tentatively, "but he's right, kid. I can see the look on your face. You can't hold onto anything that happens in this world, it's not good for you."

Dan looks at him as if he's said something ridiculous, his features hard and unreadable.

"You don't know me." He says flatly.

"No, I don't, but I don't think I need to to tell you that much." Beard replies, unfazed. "It's the harsh truth of this world that you'll be scared for your friends or someone may die. Hell, you might even have to kill someone. It doesn't make you any worse of a person, I'm sure your friends would agree with me on that."

Dan's face whitens, but there's no way for Beard to know why.

"It wasn't your fault." Phil reiterates gently, and to that Dan seems to actually listen, looking over at us. I nod and so does Cat.

Felix shrugs indifferently, and despite him being my best friend, I have a few choice words for that reaction.

"It wasn't, right Felix?" I snap at my friend. The tone of my voice leaves very little room to argue, but he hardly seems to care. He lifts his head up to look at me, my eyebrows going up in shock as I see the hard look burning there.

He stares at me, not at Dan, and I see Phil tensing immediately because Dan's not aware and his stare is already cast to the floor and-

Oh.

Felix opens his mouth and I shake my head, suddenly aware of where his mind has been. Suddenly realizing why he's barely even talked and I'm staring at him imploringly my eyes saying don't say it, don't you dare say it, but he snaps out the words and ignores me.

"No, it totally wasn't your fault, Dan!" He spits harshly. His words pitch far too loudly and our guides can obviously hear us, I see Dan immediately wither under his gaze.
"Neither was Marzia. They were all known for getting into so much trouble on their own before you."

Like a gunshot to the head, a deadly silence falls over everything after the words are out. Beard and Earring exchange uncomfortable glances.

And there's no way to fix that, no way to reverse the damage and say he doesn't mean it. A low blow, probably the worst thing you could say to any of us, and my friend's just dropped it all on Dan's shoulders.

"YOU-" I've barely opened my mouth to shout at him before this single word cuts over me, a trembling tone of betrayal and anger.

Phil.

His blue eyes are blazing, pale hands curling into angry fists at his side. "Take that back, Felix." He snaps. "Take that back right fucking now-"

"Oh yeah, defend him!" Felix snaps. He stares at Phil defiantly, and Phil stares right back. "You would, obviously."

"Obviously." Phil retorts. I've never seen this expression on him. Hell, I don't even think I've ever heard him curse. The look he's shooting my best friend is murderous. Dan, on the other hand, looks stricken.

I'm speechless. "Felix," I spit. "What the hell?-"

"The confederation doesn't want us." He says lowly. He's still looking at me, though the words he's saying are probably having dire effect. "They want him and Phil, and it's our friends that've suffered the consequences of that."

"Now I don't know that that's-" Beard mutters.

"Look at Dan!" I shout. Involuntarily my eyes go to him too and he freezes, shrinking back into himself. "Fucking look at him and tell me right now that he's fine. He's not fine! None of us are fine!"

"You're on his side too?" Felix gasps. "You're just going to ignore the fact that we've lost three of our friends because of him?"

"In what way is any of this because of Dan?!" I roar. "He saved our lives in the tunnel. He shot that man before he got in and killed us all. Did that mean anything to you?"

"Stop." Cat cuts in, eyes wide and terrified. "Stop it, all of you."

Dan's completely shattered. Phil's furious, Felix's chest is heaving. I'm about to scream and probably punch someone in the face.

"He killed someone to save us." I growl. "Dan isn't the reason for any of this."

"No," Dan mumbles weakly. I look at him but he isn't focused anymore, the lines on his face more prominent. "He's right."

My breath catches in my throat.

"Damn right I'm right!" Felix yells, and this time I actually do lunge over the seat to reach through the window, catching him by the hood of his sweater even though he jerks back.

"No you're not! That's enough!"

"Dan." Phil whispers, but Dan doesn't turn back to look at him. He glares at Felix.

"Have you been waiting to say that?" Dan whispers, voice trembling. "Is that what you've been thinking this whole damn time?"

Felix says nothing, expression flickering between guilt and anger. The air hums with words unspoken.

"Well I'm glad to know that's out there." Dan continues. "Glad to know that's what you really think, especially after Phil sat with you in the middle of the night yesterday when all you could think about was Marzia-"

"Don't say her name!" Felix screams, his eyes red and welling suddenly. "You don't just get to talk about her! You shouldn't even know about that."

My heart wrenches with too much pain to place, confused by the words. What happened between Phil and Felix last night? Was he thinking of her last night, did they talk about her? Suddenly I'm missing Marzia overwhelmingly, and I can't find the words to speak. Something else has just reared up, reminding me of that morning weeks ago-

Phil touches his friend's arm. "Dan, you don't need to say-"

"What, Marzia?!" Dan shouts. "You should talk about her! You loved her, and we tried everything to save her."

I realize suddenly that my hands are shaking.

I killed Marzia. I was there when she was dying, I was the one that ended it. Dan and Phil were gone, she'd told them to run and zombies were closing in on the hill. It was still so impossible and surreal and her expression was so brave, and I knew exactly what she wanted me to do.

Felix doesn't know that.

It's okay Mark, don't worry about me. You'll be okay. She told me.

"I can't." Felix gasps, his hands shaking. "She meant everything to me."

She's haunting all of us. My mind is flashing with sudden images of dark hair and dark eyes, the girl who smiled and laughed and could reach Felix when PJ and I couldn't. The girl who jumped in front of a wolf. The blood that tainted the air in the end.

"Phil means everything to me." Dan blurts.

His face is so impossibly angry and I see Phil's eyes widen in disbelief. I think my mouth drops. Something vocalized, something we've never heard before. He's said it out loud. He looks between us as if suddenly conscious of that but he doesn't seem to care, leaning slightly in front of Phil as if to conceal him from the conflict.

"He means everything to me, and you shot him." He says tremulously. "You shot him on an assumption, and he still forgave you."

Our guides are dead silent. Felix is breathing heavily, expression full of hatred.

"I don't have to forgive you." He manages.

"You can blame me if you want." Dan answers. "But leave him out of this. I still stand by what I said. I don't care if you're my friend. If you hurt him again, I'll kill you."

Felix's eyes widen. Anger takes over the defeat, his eyes flashing with hate.
"Why don't you just leave?!" He yells. "We don't need you here. Why don't you get out of our lives?"

"He's not going anywhere, Felix!" I shout. Before I can really think about it my arm has shot out and I'm gripping Dan's shoulder, daring him to try and counter that. "His life matters as much as yours."

Dan looks shocked and for once can't conceal it, but some of the anger fades instantly from his face even as I let go, waiting for Felix to challenge me.

For several drawn out heartbeats there's silence, nothing but the hum of the engine and the breaths of everyone in the small space to break it. Nobody knows what to say, not even as buildings give way to trees and the truck takes a turn.

"We're gonna stop at this park for an hour." Earring cuts in awkwardly, keeping his voice light and casual but sounding very tense. "My brother and I need to uh- make a lunch. You guys can have some if you want and you can... sort out whatever this is." He maneuvers the truck over to a grassy patch and I can see benches and a sidewalk off in the distance, lined with streetlamps and the occasional trash can. The grass all around the path is overgrown immensely but it follows along a large, scenic lake, plenty of space to walk around and looking devoid of both zombies and people.

"Okay, thank you." Phil manages weakly, getting to his feet. The truck stops and the engine goes off, everyone shifting uncomfortably for a moment as if waiting for someone to move. He pushes the truck door open, shooting me a worried look that I return. We don't know what's going to happen.

He grabs Dan's arm.

"Come on." He urges him softly, voice still patient. Dan barely seems to hear him, following along without really thinking. He lets himself be pulled along gently, climbing out through the door of the truck and to the outside, taking him far away.

~~~

"Honestly. Why did you have to say something so fucking stupid?" I spit.

Felix glares at me and kicks the rock at his feet, glancing surreptitiously to Dan and Phil who are walking in the long grasses up ahead, far out of earshot. "I don't know." He mumbles. "But I'm not sorry. He isn't either."

We're sitting on a bench by the lake, me picking at an apple and him fiddling with his gun, rubbing at the same invisible dust particle while his mind is clearly somewhere else. Our friends are giving him intentional distance and for once I can hardly blame them. Dan seems to be arguing with Phil who is in turn trying to calm him down. I don't even want to know what must be taking over Dan's thoughts right now, but it doesn't take much imagination.

"What does he have to be sorry for?" I ask. "Chris and PJ gave themselves up on their own will. I was there. Dan tried to stop PJ."

"Yeah, but he didn't." Felix huffs. "There's no way we're going to find them now. If we try we'll die."

"How could you just give up on them?" I ask incredulously, making his eyes widen. "Did you even hear half the stuff Chris said about how the confederation manipulates? They're keeping them alive until they get what they want. Otherwise we'll never come back and they'll never get a chance at reaching him."

"I'm not giving up on them!" He exclaims, glaring at me like I'm an idiot. "I just- never mind. You've obviously changed your mind recently. I thought my best friend of all people would understand me."

Hot anger surges through me, and I'm hardly surprised. "Meaning?"

"We were fine before they came along!" He blurts suddenly. "We were all okay living in the camp, we lived there all year and we were fine. Everything that's happened is because of Phil and Dan, because the government wants them."

"If we're going by that logic, everything that happened started because we were captured at the half-life camp." I state.

"Yes." He snaps.

"Well, it was my idea to check out that camp." I spit, glaring at him. "It was my idea to bring them and I'm the one who made Marzia come too. So technically it's my fault then."

"Wha-" he sputters. "No, it's not like that-"

"Why not? You're so quick to blame them, why is it suddenly dismissed if it's me?"

"Stop!" He snaps. "Okay, I know it's stupid."

"But does Dan know that?!" I cry. "Do you realize what you accused him of?"

"Why are you suddenly defending him?" Felix protests. "I remember when we first found them. I remember what you said. You said he'd only endanger his friends one day with the way he acts. You hated him back when I thought he was fine."

"And who told me I was being unreasonable?" I retort. "You did. I did the sensible thing and realized I was wrong, actually got to know him and realized how I acted was stupid."

"You think I'm acting stupid." He's apparently only heard one half of my sentence. He knows how I'm going to react to this, and for once when everything feels like walking on broken glass, I try to make an effort not to let him test my patience.

"For god's sake, Felix." I snap, exasperated. "You want to argue about this?"

"I don't." He sighs. "Honestly I don't. But this group is falling apart. Dan probably hates me now, but I can't pretend it's not what I think."

"No, but you can't just accuse a kid of causing someone's death." I cast my gaze to the lake and I hear Dan raise his voice, trying hard not to distinguish actual words. I take another bite of my apple and then toss it away, not having much of an appetite.

"Why'd he have to mention Marzia?" He sighs weakly. "I felt like shit anyway. By that point I was in too deep and then he brought that up. I miss her, Mark."

He sounds so broken, so reduced and sad. It causes a pang in my heart even though I'm angry at him, my mind again going back involuntarily to the last time I ever saw her.

"I know." I manage. "I know."

"I just... he wasn't lying." He confesses. "I... was thinking about her last night when we were in that tunnel. Everyone was asleep and I thought I was okay to do it. But it hurt too much, and then I was having a breakdown and it was so dark and... God. I would have cried probably but Phil came over and sat down next to me totally out of the blue. And he distracted me. He didn't even ask anyone questions once he found out why."

The revelation stops me short. I look over at him, seeing the mixed emotion on his face.

"And Dan somehow knew." I realize.

"Yeah." He manages with a shrug. "Guess I shouldn't have been surprised, but it made me really mad for some reason."

"Well you thought... she was Dan's fault." I say cautiously. "So it probably didn't feel fair that he got to say anything about it."

He laughs hollowly, no humour in the sound. "I was being comforted by the guy I shot." He groans. "Dan obviously heard about it, and I wasn't expecting him to bring it up."

"I don't know what you expected when you remotely threatened Phil." I joke. "You know how he is."

"I don't get that at all." Felix says quietly. He gazes over at the pair as they stop walking, speaking lowly now rather than in raised voices. "Their relationship. I just... how does a friendship even get to that point?"

"Hell if I know." I sigh.

"Mark." He mumbles suddenly. "Look at Phil."

Phil is yelling. Dan is yelling. My stomach sinks to see it. Phil's hand is coming forward and I see him pushing against Dan's chest, not hurting him but definitely forcing his attention.

"They're..."

"Don't say that." Phil snaps. "I am not going to let you say that!"

I don't know what Dan says back. I just watch in disbelief, seeing him swat away Phil's hands with a pained look on his face. Phil keeps approaching him, raising his arms as if to grab him, almost chasing him in a weird pursuit.

"If you don't say something decent about yourself I'm going to make you." He snaps, and I can already hear the protests. They're standing in knee-height grass, facing off. I don't mean to be staring, but I can't stop.

Dan shakes his head, but then Phil grins at him. He's grinning, and I'm totally lost as to why, when he does the unthinkable.

I see him dart down rather than at Dan, catching us both off guard. He rips out a clump of flowers and weeds, hurling them at Dan's head and then yanking the neck of his shirt as he grabs more.

My mouth drops, and Felix has fallen silent as well.

Even from here I can hear Dan's squeal of discomfort, trying to brush all the leaves out of his hair while Phil continues shoving loose grasses down the back of his shirt, lacing his arm around his best friend's chest so he can't escape. I've never seen Phil just up and attack him, I don't know what Dan has said, all I can hear is a muffled you think so? Do you still think so? But Dan's clearly on the losing side, shouting and slapping at his friend as he continues his assaults.

I'm I'm complete shock. I'm pretty sure I know what they were arguing about considering what just went down before and how Phil handles Dan's being dejected, but now it's like he's trying to... force him to be happy?

Dan manages to shove him away at arms length but then Phil charges, knocking them both down into the tall grass, flower petals and dandelion fluff exploding everywhere. Whatever it is they're yelling about there's clearly not going to be a resolution until Dan gives in, and for a moment they're both obscured from view as the wavy grasses get in the way.

They're obscured for a good few seconds, all I can hear is Phil talking and interrupting Dan every time he tries to speak. I can't even tell what they're saying, but whatever it is- and I have a pretty good guess- Dan's not allowed to think it anymore.

I'm almost angry on Dan's behalf, confused as heck on Phil's, at least until I suddenly see Dan lift his head.

He's pushed back down as soon as he gets up, the battle still ensued, and as he crosses my line of view and Phil's arms encircle his waist I see the widest possible smile break free on his face, changing every aspect of his features as his head falls back against the greenery and he laughs. Whatever thoughts I've been having freeze to a halt as I see Dan, the Dan's eyes scrunch shut and his mouth fall open, laughing loudly as he slaps away his best friend's arms and grips his wrists so he can't reach him, Phil's fingers aiming for his neck.

"Now do you think so?!" Phil asks him, and I can see him trying to get at Dan, who's consequently curling away.

"Yes- no! No! Fuck, off, Phil!" He cries.

"You don't get to be sad." Phil orders. "We've come too far for that."

It's so beyond anything I've ever seen and I'm half-expecting them to kiss or something, Phil's noticed the smile and is now prodding at it, stabbing Dan's dimple with his finger.  I hadn't even realized you could get that close to Dan.

"Holy fucking shit, he's laughing." I blurt.

"They're so cute. I hate them." A voice groans from behind us.

I start, making the speaker stiffen and realizing Cat's now standing by my head, and she laughs good-naturedly at the shock on mine and Felix's faces. She at least has apparently already forgiven him, somehow knowing he doesn't even know if he meant the words.

"Cat, do you... know something we don't?" I ask her, not even joking at this point but genuinely wondering. It's not that I'd vocalize it in that exact form of wording, but it's not like I can just look at them and think nothing of it, especially not after that exclamation from their best friend.

She looks at them longingly and then back to me, shaking her head and pushing her hair out of her face.

"No." She sighs. "I was totally kidding. I wish there was something to know. Imagine being their only other friend for a whole year. I've witnessed so many petty arguments and little domestics that I almost want to knock their heads together. Have you ever seen two people more perfect for each other? It makes me so goddamn mad!"

Dan has finally managed to shove Phil off but he's smiling up at him, making a point to blow the excess blades of grass landing in his hand into Phil's face. He mouths something that looks suspiciously like I hate you, sitting back in the grass to fix his hair.

"I said that from the start." I mutter, feeling weird at being able to openly acknowledge that much to someone for the first time. Felix rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, but you were an asshole about it." He reminds me.

"Oh I'm the asshole?" I retort, but he doesn't frown. He just smiles tiredly, shaking his head.

"Shut up." He sighs. "I'll apologize to him later."

"You think it too?" Cat inquires. She grins at me, and somehow I feel some of the tension begin to dissolve.

"Wasn't that obvious a while ago?" I ask irritably.

"Don't tell them I think that." She blurts as an afterthought, giving us both a worried look. "Don't comment on their-"

"Just kiss already!" I shout lightly and they both hear it. Phil's obscured from my view but Dan just turns around and flips me off, turning back to Phil with an expression I've never seen before, an affectionate smile and a general indifference to the onlookers which makes every one of us freeze. He helps Phil to his feet, shaking his head.

Cat punches me, voice and expression frantic. "What did I literally just say?!"

"He doesn't even care though." I protest disbelievingly. "I was honestly expecting him to care."

"Like I was saying," Felix manages, stunned. "I don't get it."

"Join the club." I reply, and then somehow, miraculously, we're all suddenly laughing. Dan looks at us confusedly but he's too far away to possibly understand why, half-smiling his when I meet his gaze before looking away.

The two of them are aware that we're watching them now and they awkwardly start to stand up, Phil's face is so red in reaction to my comment I wonder how I never made the connection before. It hits me that maybe all my suspicions aren't that far off, it's the only explanation for how they've been able to reduce the horrible feelings not only between each other, but somehow for us three as well. Phil's in love with him.

And it all makes sense. It makes so much sense.

Felix's pained look relaxes and I feel like he might actually be back to himself. Maybe he'll even apologize, who knows. In either case, our drivers are going to be so confused when we come back to the truck again, but somehow that seems like the smallest of our worries.

"Guys, I think we've witnessed the birth of something here." I hear Cat mutter, euphoria in her voice as she bounces next to us uncontrollably.

I nod. "I'm guessing you're talking about the look on Dan's face?" I ask emphatically. "You're seeing it too?"

"Yeah." She grins, "And I like it. I think I'm gonna name it Heart eyes Howell."

A/N
Another new chapter will be following very closely behind this one. I'm determined to leave smaller gaps. There's a new goal happening here, and stay on me about this! I want to update every Sunday, so you have something to look forward to at the end of each week and the story stays consistent. Every Sunday will be a new chapter of Night (unless something huge gets in the way) and I'll do my best to make this so.

See you on Sunday ^_^ the next chapter is a dan