ye hi dis art was arted by ThePastelWriter . rip to me, I am dead. Every time someone draws for this story I feel my soul ascend to the top tier of genuine happiness, thank you so much :'( is that not incredibly beautiful? That's exactly what an outdoor swing under the stars would be. I love it 💕

heads up this is a double chapter (two diff perspectives). feel free to message me if you have any concerns about warnings in the next four chapters. My gift to you on this fine 25 December, 4 big ol updooterinos. Thank you for supporting me :) <3

In all chaos, there is calculation.
-Lorde, Glory & Gore

Phil

The display on my phone reads June 10, 2010. It's 11:45 p.m., though it's not going to be June tenth much longer.

"Okay, I've thought of one." I suggest cheerily, leaning over and nudging Dan's shoulder.

He slumps down against the headboard of my bed and hugs the pillow closer to his chest, controller gripped determinedly in his hand as he fiddles with the toggles on either side.

The sky outside my window is dark except for a streetlamp on the next street over, barely a pinprick orange glow from that far away. I can't see anything in the back garden and the tv screen reflects off the glass to hide the outside further, flashing blue and green in similar colours to the room that surrounds us.

I can tell he's half-asleep but he also hasn't completed the level at one hundred percent yet, and if there's one I know about Dan, it's that if he wants to get that far, he won't stop playing until he gets it. I see him stifle a yawn and vaguely wonder why it's so warm in here. Maybe I should open the window.

"And what's that, then?" He inquires. He doesn't seem bothered by the fact that my apartment isn't really suited to the weather, though I'm secretly wishing I were American so I could buy a flat with built in air-con. A strand of his fringe falls forward over his forehead, he ignores it completely because he's so focused on navigating the platforms on the screen.

He's playing Sonic, trying to beat the level that I'm 'ungodly amounts of terrible' at, in his words. My hand twitches at my side with the small urge to tuck the strand behind his ear but I know that its not really the time for that, but I still want to. Just once when he gets really tired, maybe I can attempt it.

He frees up his right hand for a moment, dipping it into the popcorn bowl between us and shoving a bit into his mouth. He's taken more than he anticipated though, and so after a moment he lifts his still-brimming hand to my mouth without even taking his eyes off the screen, laughing as I open my mouth obediently and he drops the extra kernels in.

It's almost midnight. We've been asking each other absurd questions for about an hour now, ever since he saw a character that looked like a moose on the screen and asked if I'd ever seen one. Questions ranging from if either of us had ever dyed our hair (I learned he once had a purple fringe but the dye was really crappy and quickly faded to blonde) to if we ever thought about whether cats have dreams. (Yes. Definitely.)

"I love to ask people this." I tell him. "What's one place in the world you'd like to take a trip to more than anywhere else?"

He purses his lips and I look at him confusedly, seeing him turn his head and stick his tongue out at me in dismissal.

"I'm not telling." He says flatly. "It's embarrassing."

Not expecting that response, I'm caught off guard for a moment.

"Embarrassing?" I scoff. "How can wanting to go to a place ever be embarrassing? Just answer the damn question."

"It's probably not what you're expecting. I have a persona to keep up."

Tonight is a special night. Maybe he doesn't think so, but I do. The fact that he's not telling me is the main indicator that it's on his mind too, and even if he doesn't think it's something worth celebrating, I'm gonna force him to enjoy it. He's my best friend, an inadequate term really for the things I feel about him.

"Is it like, a gay strip club or something?" I joke, knowing fully well that it's not. It gets the reaction I want though, an aghast expression that somehow manages to be both disdainful and highly amused, reminding me that the familiar Dan hasn't gone anywhere.

He's just a bit distracted tonight.

"Phil!" The high-pitched screech, not to mention the prompt shove of irritation that follows it shakes me out of my daze,

"Lets say it at the exact same time." I suggest. "That way I'll only half-hear you."

"Okay."

"One." He looks at me, eyes flickering upwards and settling on my face.

"Two." I smile at him softly, hoping to encourage whatever thoughts are flickering through his head.

"Three." I blink.

"Japan."

We freeze and look at each other in comical surprise, and then he bursts out laughing.

We both said it at the same time. The same place- and I really should have come to expect it.

"I should have known we had some kind of mind meld." He breathes.

"How is that embarrassing?" I protest. I try to imagine a reason why someone would withhold saying they want to go to Japan. I can't.

He smirks. "It's not. I was just trying to annoy you into saying yours first."

I raise an eyebrow at him and he stares me down competitively, both of us fighting not to break it first with matching smiles on our faces. This is what I adore so much about our friendship, our ability to communicate seemingly without speaking, jokes floating through the air just in a crinkle of his nose or the dip of his dimple.

"You're a twat." He says finally.

"But you -"

love me. I cut myself off just in time, making him chuckle as I fumble for a word, mistaking my hesitance for a clumsy social failure and not what it really is- am accident I can't afford to make.

"-love it." I say instead. "You know we both have about two friends. I'm stuck with you."

It's a regular joke with us, and not entirely true. I have a wonderful network of friends and Dan and I share a lot of internet ones, but nobody gets me like he does. I'd like to think it's the same for him. He hasn't gone out to meet anyone else. He knows I don't mean a word of that joke, he's the best person to have ever come into my life.

I wonder if he realizes. If there's a way for him to somehow know that my heart beats a little faster every time he smiles at me, that I laugh so freely and easily around him because I'm fascinated by his intelligent sense of humour. I wonder if he knows I can tell when his focus is elsewhere, when his mind is on other things even as we talk and laugh like normal. I can see there's something there.

"Don't look at the clock yet." I tell him. "I'll let you know when to watch."

"This is the first time I've been here instead of home to celebrate." He mumbles.

"This is your home." I joke. "You live here basically."

"I do." He agrees. "I just..."

He's silent for a second and I see the warning sign, his eyes casting down to his hands as though there's a truth he's keeping to himself. A confession.

There's a deeper reasoning to this conversation than I'd originally imagined, but it's up to me if I want to get it out.

He's here on his own terms, because he wanted to be. I've invited him to stay at my flat and I'm keeping him warm and happy and swathed in blankets, feeding him so much crisps and popcorn his skinny body probably has no idea what to do. But the fight is probably lingering in the back of his mind, the latest one back home that led him to calling me and telling me he just wanted to get out. And of course it might be his birthday tomorrow, sooner than that if the clock reads right-but I'd convinced myself I could make him forget it. He had enough for himself here.

"What are you thinking about in that head of yours?" I ask lightly, lifting a careful hand and knocking it against his soft hair. Straightened, like always.

"Get off me, you twat." He huffs, but he's smiling as he says it. It fades away fairly soon but I'd expected that to happen. I pass him his glass of water so he has something to concentrate on as he speaks, rather than looking at me. I can tell he's grateful, an expression of comfort between us that I honestly love a lot.

"I was just thinking about how I shouldn't have told you that." He mumbles. "About wanting to... to you know. I know that was a while ago but... you barely knew me back then and now you do and I still bring it up all the time and that was a burden you didn't need."

My eyes widen as my mind catches up to his thought train, the sudden shift in mood making so much more sense.

"Dan." He freezes, character falling right off the edge of the screen without him noticing. Theres a heavy feeling in my heart and I can't even keep the pain out of my voice as much as I don't want to upset him, and he's looking at me now instead of the game.

"I'm sorry." He says tiredly. "I'm ruining the perfect night we've been having."

"No." I say hurriedly. "No. Never apologize for telling me about that."

There's times, moments like these, where it hits me how grateful I am to be able to have him here, sat in this room with me instead of three hundred miles away. I remember all too well those sleepless nights, either on skype with him or off it, holding my phone or laptop close to my face just to make sure he was still there. I remember before we met and it used to ache in my chest not to be able to be there for him.

"That's why dad was so pissed at me this time." He relays tiredly. "He wanted to know what I was telling you that I wasn't telling him. He wanted to be involved in my life, as he put it. And he literally always does that. Either I'm the inconsiderate son who doesn't care about his family or I'm the crown jewel that gets good grades because he parented so well, depends on where we were and how many rich relatives were present. But I couldn't exactly tell him that, could I?"

"No." I agree.

"And it's not like I want to do anything but live now." He reminds us both.

"I'm so proud of you." I can't help the sentiment that leaks into my voice, nor the swelling of affection that rises up so swiftly it's clearly visible on my face. "No, actually- I am. You're amazing, Dan."

He rolls his eyes and pauses the game, smiling into his cup and shaking his head.

"You're the one with the username." He dismisses, the closest thing to a compliment that he can probably muster right now.

"So you're saying-"

"AmazingPhil, dumbass." He teases. I nudge his shoulder and he nudges me back, sending butterflies fluttering up my stomach as he picks up the controller and goes back to the game. "If you can beat this level on a time trial with ninety percent then I can one hundred it. In fact you should film it, document the moment so you can post it on your channel and I can flaunt how much better I am than you."

"It's not AmazingDan." I answer, pleased that he's passed the more serious subject for a lighter one on his own terms. I'm willing to banter about my inferior gaming skills and YouTube channel if it means Dan's happy for a while. It always feels worth it in the end when I see him happy.

"But seriously." He mutters.

"Seriously, you are statistically my favourite person I have ever met." I say loudly. Briefly I worry about annoying my neighbors in the flat next door, but then I decide I don't care. "So whatever you're worrying about it isn't a problem. Dan Howell is great because I said so, now stop arguing because as it stands I'm still winning."

He pretends to ignore me by turning his back on me but I see the stupid grin before it's hidden, the expression ten times more beautiful on him than anyone else.

He really does wear happiness very well.

It's about an hour later that I suddenly remember to look at the clock. Good thing too or I would have missed it, scrambling when I see 11:58 change to 11:59.

"Dan!" I exclaim, so excitedly he jumps and his half-shut eyes snap open, narrowing at me adorably when he realizes I've snapped him from his daze. He hasn't beaten the level yet but he's beaten the time trial, ninety five percent so at least he's still respectably above me.

"Four to midnight, I'm guessing." He grumbles, straightening back up and clicking the buttons under his thumb in an attempt to go faster.

"One to midnight!" I enthuse. "Battle stations!"

"Battle stations?" He teases. "What the hell are you on about?"

I can feel the excitement bubbling in my chest, my hand shooting out to touch his shoulder because I can't physically convey my enthusiasm any way else.

"Just stay where you are, look at the clock."

He lets his eyes flick briefly to the digital alarm on my bedside table before going back to the game, already shaking his head when he sees the look on my face. I look at him and then look again, realizing there's a stray curl on his fringe that must have un-straightened during the day, rebellious as he is at being happy or me at being straight. I unfurl it with my finger and he scoffs, secretly loving that curl somewhere in the abyss of his stubborn thoughts.

I can see the second counter timing down. He reaches into the popcorn, just reaching the corn to his mouth when I swat it out of the way, making him huff indignantly.

"Phil!" He complains, making me grin at the whiny tone I love because of how petulant and unlike him it is, yet somehow managing to suit him at the same time. "You didn't let me eat my damn popcorn when all I needed for win motivation was-"

"Wait," I say excitedly.

He stops, looking at me bemusedly.

I grin at him cheekily. "Wait."

"Phil, you really don't have to-"

I lunge forward and slap a hand over his mouth, forcibly silencing him and giggling when he makes an indignant sound. "Shh! Wait!"

I expect him to push away my hand but he doesn't, just sits there silently and looks up at my face. His hand that's holding the controller lowers its thumb and pauses the game, though his eyes are still boring curiously into mine. I can feel myself blushing at the feeling of his lips against my hand, even in this subtle way. I try to tell myself it doesn't mean anything, but it does. I know it does. I'm already imagining kissing them instead. It's been nearly a year since I realized and I still know it's hopeless.

"Next year," I say hurriedly, "you're not gonna have to worry about any of this. You'll get to come live in the city and we won't be internet friends, we'll hang out every day. I'll take you to our Starbucks and we'll watch Kill Bill again, and when you play Sonic you'll hundred-percent it. It's gonna be the best."

I meet his eyes, surprised how passionate I feel about making these things actually happen. I'm expecting him to roll his eyes but he doesn't, he sits there transfixed with my hand over his mouth and the Sonic game backlighting his features, the summer night continuing on without us. It's may just be an ordinary day in June, not New Year's Day in January, but I make the resolution all the same. Who knows what could happen in a year?

For a moment, nothing happens. I'm sitting there awkwardly, Dan's breathing softly, all I can hear is my heartbeat.

Then the digital clock on my bedside table flashes. The display time on the screen changes from 11:59 to 12:00.

I let go of his mouth. We both look at each other.

Eighteen isn't the biggest number, but it's his now.

"Happy Birthday, Dan." I mumble, my cheeks flushing a bit. I fall forward awkwardly and wrap my arms around him, resting my head on his shoulder as he clumsily hugs me back. He seems a little stunned and when I pull back his expression reflects that, but the the realization seems to fully cross his mind when we're making eye contact again, I'm blushing deeper because his normally serious face is softened. He looks genuinely... gratified.

And he smiles at me.

"You're a sentimental fuck." He says after a moment, ducking his head and nudging my shoulder. I roll my eyes and he laughs, me joining in only a moment later when he toasts with our popcorn bowl and hands me some. We eat the first minute of his birthday in content silence, stopping only to look at each other when he yawns.

He sits back down and curls his arms around a pillow, eyes falling shut with the game still on pause. He tucks himself under my blankets and I realize it'll be a literal sleepover tonight, probably ending in him stealing all the covers and sushi rolling to his side if the bed while I freeze on mine, but when he's curled up like this, I'm almost tempted to let him.

I hear it when he curls up and closes his eyes. His head is covered by a pillow and he has my duvet pulled to his chin but when he rolls over it's mumbled, so quiet and tentative but there all the same, so that the last thing I hear before he nods off and the lights go out is two soft, gently spoken words.

"Thank you."

~~~

I open my eyes.

I've awoken to the feeling of cold, slightly pointed wood poking into my cheek, making me crease my brow in confusion and then wince as the dream fades away and my arm suddenly comes alive with pins and needles. It's held awkwardly above me and something is pressed heavily against it, the exact specific of what it could be already entering my mind before I've even opened my eyes and felt the gentle touch of Dan's hand around my waist.

I can't tell what time it is. The sun is up and it's a cloudy day, sunlight and a bit of blue sky still managing to peek through. It hurts my recently opened eyes slightly and I wince, trying to cling to the warm fuzzy haze of the dream of so long ago.

We're still on the swing and I've been laid against my arm all night, at least accounting for the numbness. Somehow though, our roles have switched overnight and now Dan's arms are wound around me rather than vice versa. James is missing, perhaps gone back to his brother before the sun went up. As soon as my breath deepens I feel his hand twitch and the shift of a body against me, making me aware in a moment that I'm pressed against his chest, our legs overlapped slightly to keep from shifting out of place.

I wonder if he's awake. His fingers are tracing over my other arm absently, they fall still at once at my movement. As if in answer to my question I feel him shift to sit up just slightly, limbs straining, and then he settles back down.

"Phil?" He whispers suddenly. His breath ghosts over my neck and it feels nice, so impossibly nice that I don't respond even though I've heard him. I let my eyes slowly shut again, feeling his arm curling more securely around my chest when I don't answer.

He seems to realize I've given him no response. My heart is full of a curious feeling suddenly but I will it to stay calm and slow, not wanting to break this aura of security and warmth that I haven't felt in days. I want to savour it.

"Are you awake?" He tries again, voice still hushed so as not to wake me if I were asleep. I know I should answer him but his other arm has wound around me now. I keep quiet as the silence stretches on.

He hesitates upon realizing that to his eyes at least I'm actually asleep, pulling me closer gently as if to make sure. He strokes his finger over my arm and relaxes against the armrest behind him, causing the swing beneath us to sway just a little. We're both waiting, He just doesn't know it.

I don't know what to expect. I can feel his absent motions, but I can't hear the whispers of his mind. I don't want the embrace to end, willing him not to let me go.

He waits for me to answer, and when I don't, I feel him press his forehead into the curve of my neck, winding his arms more tightly around me and hugging me close. I hold my breath as he keeps me there against him for a moment, a sigh leaving his lips in a quiet, barely noticeable rush of air while his chin comes to rest in the crook of my shoulder.

Before I can stop myself I'm keening into the embrace, turning my body slightly to accommodate him more comfortably. His cheek comes to rest against my head, soft and not sharp like I'd expected. He nestles against me and stays there, close and unguarded for the first time in so long.

I wonder if this is the dream. It doesn't feel real to be here in this moment.

For a while I listen to the world coming alive around us, the sounds of voices through the back door of the house and the hush of wind rustling trees in the London streets. The air is quiet, lacking that hum of life that I hadn't even known existed at the time. The difference between a heartbeat and its absence, it's a new sound that I listen for when I wake up in the morning.

I wait until my chest no longer feels devoid of air, my heart calming to a more regular pace before I even think about moving. My eyes are still shut and Dan's arms are warm and safe, my mind feeling hazy as I tilt my head and blink.

"Hi." I mumble.

Instantly he freezes and jerks back, lifting his head and sitting up straighter. The look on his face when I turn my head is conflicted and his cheeks darken, looking down at me with wide eyes like he's done something wrong.

"Phil." He says, almost as if he's not aware he's doing it.

I'm still tired and all of my limbs feel heavy, I desperately want to sink back against him and let his arms just hold me close for a while.

"Morning." I say quietly, trying to nudge back against his chest. He just silently stares.

"Uh, right." He manages. "Good morning."

One arm is still wrapped around me, both holding me in place and keeping the blanket around us and I can't help it when my eyes go to that, and he seems to notice at the same time as I do.

"I'm sorry." He exclaims, pulling his hand back. "I wasn't trying to get in your space or anything, I just-"

Something about his voice, the nervousness and the careful way he's handling me goes straight to my heart, the darkness that's eclipsed my heart for hours on end suddenly waning in the face of reassurance. It's comforting that he's nervous too.

"It's okay!" I assure him. His hand falters halfway through drawing back. "It was nice." To prove this point I grab the blanket corner and pull it to my chest, leaning back with half my face covered and curling into his side, ignoring the way the swing starts to rock back and forth again with all of our motion. His head turns as I lay mine on his shoulder, lowering his gaze to my face.

"What was? Me being weird?" He asks me, still sounding like he's done something wrong.

"It wasn't weird." I dismiss, silently glowing at the idea that he did that of all things when he thought I wasn't awake. "I'm cuddly, I guess."

I see his expression change as soon as he's assured I'm not going anywhere, eyes careful.

He nods, observing me with a soft look in his eyes. "You are, aren't you?"

It's like he's never thought of that before. It makes me wonder how much he actually notices. I shake my head.

"Only with you."

The honest answer leaves my lips abruptly, the warmth of Dan's form and the brief memories of half-awake conversations last night making me feel far less worried about consequence than I normally would. I don't even think about his reaction, more focused on the the hand curling over the back of my wrist, the pad of his thumb running back and forth over the skin.

I manage to to look him in the eye for about two seconds before his blush darkens worse than before, far too distracting for me to ever hope to keep my gaze on him. I lift up my free hand and use it to brush back his hair, seeing his eyes shut for a moment at the gentle touch.

Sitting up brings me to realize there's a pain in my lower back from sleeping awkwardly all night with my shoulders slightly tilted, forcing me to stretch and to twist around a bit to regain any feeling. Dan's hands draw away but he lets me press my shoulder against his when I lay back down, tapping my foot against his shoe when I settle my feet back on the floor.

"How are you feeling this morning?" I ask eventually, watching a cloud drift by.

He gives me look to deduce whether or not I'm serious and then, when nothing comes up to suggest that I'm not, he just lays back and pushes the swing back and forth with the edges of his heels rocking us with gentle motions.

He shrugs. "Pretty shit." He says honestly.

I hadn't expected much less than that. The events of the last twenty four hours sit in my mind like a bad movie, something detached from reality that wasn't quite real until the end. It's like my mind has already built up a shield against the memories, sparing me the stress so that I can live just a moment longer without feeling the weight of all of it at once. Maybe I'm just in shock. I don't really know.

I look at him, sitting on this swing with the rickety wooden porch and ramshackle house around us acting as a backdrop. There's so much in his eyes that his expression doesn't show, an amount of pain and guilt and secrecy behind the calm that he probably doesn't even think I can see. My hand finds the one of his that had been running over my wrist just earlier, curling my index through his and feeling him respond.

"Yeah." I agree, not sure how else to put it really. "Me too."

He hums absently and I think about actually taking his hand, fingers already lifting to do so, but something bubbles up in my chest and twists in my heart and I find I can't bring myself to. After all the dancing I'd done, the small contacts I've risked, the virtual life and death situations we've shared, you wouldn't think that even after last night a touch of the hand would feel like much. But it does.

Then, suddenly, I don't even have to. The finger hooked through mine pulls out of my grasp and his whole hand replaces it, placing itself atop the back of mine and squeezing. I'm not expecting the smile I see when I curl my fingers more tightly and look up at him in surprise, not even able to hide my surprise quickly enough at the gentleness in his expression.

"We'll be all right, won't we?" He asks unexpectedly, keeping the hold intact and looking into my eyes. There's a kind of intensity there, like he isn't expecting me to give another answer. It reminds me of how I felt when I looked at him before the attack in the camp, like as long as he was all right I could be. It feels like a new beginning of some kind. To see it reflected in the expression of Dan's face, it gives me a feeling like hope.

I think about our friends out there probably worried about where we are, about Cat and her last moments. I try to imagine what she'd say right now if she could talk to us.

"We will be." I decide. It sounds about right. Hopeful, encouraging. Reminding us we can move forward. There's nothing we can do now except move forward. It's easier said than done, but maybe I can do it for him.

"You..." he looks at me shyly and the smile fades a little, but his hand is still there and it surprises me when he doesn't break eye contact. His eyes go to the fence. "You're the best person." He says softly. "Did you know that?"

A fluttering sensation rises up in my stomach and I stare at him sideways, my heart not quite sure how to handle this little bit of information.

"Where is this coming from?" I ask him, smiling and raising my eyebrows as I do so he knows I don't mean that in a bad way.

He squeezes my hand and then draws back, placing his hands in his lap and looking away. "Nowhere in particular."

"I don't think you've ever blushed so hard while saying something." I observe, looking at him so genuinely he only blushes wider, until the colour on his face resembles cold cheeks touched by winter.

"I don't think I've ever said something that nice before." He reminds me.

I laugh lightly, feeling gratified when I'm met with a pleased expression. "Anyway, that's not even true." I tease, nudging him. "I'm not the best person ever. You are."

I don't even care that it sounds stupid. It's the truth.

"You seem to be alone in that opinion." He says tiredly, looking now at his feet.

I shake my head and wonder just how one person can be so clueless, my hand drifting up to cup his cheek loosely. I don't mean anything by it, I'm just trying to hold his attention, but suddenly I find the hand weighted down as he rests on it. He looks at me pointedly as I turn his head, but I'm not about to let him believe he can so offhandedly say that, just barely resisting the urge to run my thumb over the soft skin.

"Fine." I joke, distracted by his dark eyes but undeterred. "You're all mine, then."

His eyes widen and he shakes his head in embarrassment, mouth opening and closing a few times before he manages to say anything. It's not that the words have bothered him in any way but it's clear he doesn't know how to come back from it, thinking over his response in the spiralled, overthought way that he approaches everything.

At least, that's what it looks like. Eventually though, I realize he's just distracted completely.

"Dan?" I tease, letting go of his cheek and poking him. "Earth to Dan."

He looks at me, hesitating before speaking, and what comes out of his mouth next is not what I'm expecting.

"There was something I wanted to tell you today." He says suddenly.

I draw back and look at him in surprise, letting go of his face and forgetting my kidding completely. It's something about the way he's said it.

"Really?"

"Yeah I... was going to say it last night." He says distractedly. "But we were tired and I didn't."

I don't know why, but for a moment that intimate feeling from last night arises, a tense knot of nerves and exhilaration twisting and rising up in my chest. I stare at him and the sunlight slants over his face; his unconsciously beautiful, uncertain face. It could be nothing at all.

But, my mind prods, relentless. It could be something.

I manage to nod. His eyes flicker to his hands.

"I hope I didn't break your back." I say distractedly, hoping to dispel the hesitation and talking over his mind because he has a weird look on his face. "I can't believe you slept on a swing all night and let me just-"

"Phil, I care about you." He blurts. By the way he's not meeting my eyes, you'd think he'd offended me or something. It wouldn't seem all that strange except it's come from Dan, who prefers not to express sentiment. Dan, whose look makes it clear he hadn't meant to say that and now looks like he's proposed to me or something.

I stare at him, trying to figure out the deeper meaning behind his words. There's always a hidden message when it comes to him, a concealed truth or a point he's trying to make. Nothing he says is arbitrary, and he looks like I'm supposed to get it.

I stare at him uncertainly, slightly worried by the look he's giving me. "I know?" I say stupidly.

"No." He insists, and for whatever reason he looks like I've just set him back even more than before. His hesitant gaze is focused on the dew-covered lawn, water droplets shining as the sun slants through them.

"No?"

He huffs frustratedly and winds his fingers together, looking at a point just beside my shoulder. "What I mean is, I care about you... a lot."

The words don't quite compute and I raise an eyebrow perplexedly, mind reaching to understand because of how genuinely worried he now looks. My chest is fluttering with flustered elation, appreciate the words even if I'm not sure why he's said them.

"Are you all right?" I ask, frowning and moving to press my hand to his forehead. He laughs and swats my hand away before I can, looking purposeful even though I'm genuinely concerned he has a fever or something. I think it's fair to say we both care about each other at this point, I'm not sure why it's suddenly so mention worthy now. Why it's come into his mind. I'd give a lot to know what Dan thinks about half of the time.

I care about you... a lot.

He blinks. "I'm fine." He seems to realize how I'm going to respond to that particular phrasing because he follows up on his own words only moments later, straightening up to cut me off because I've already opened my mouth. "I actually am this time. Well, I'm obviously not fantastic given the circumstances but in terms of my soundness of mind I'm okay."

"All right?" I manage confusedly.

I'm honestly a little worried about him. I'm halfway to wondering if he has some impending doom vision of the future or something and he's getting in his sentiments now, even though that's about the opposite of what the Dan I know typically does.

"Yeah." He says. His voice sounds like he's changed his mind about trying to express himself, the follow-up never coming.

"I care about you too." I exclaim, realizing I haven't said it back yet. "I was serious."

"I'm trying to tell you things." He pouts, punching me in the side. "Stop making fun of me."

"I'm not!" I protest. "Are you kidding me?"

It's probably the closest I could get to saying I love you right now, a laugh escaping my lips as he stares at me, still with that accusatory look.

"Ugh." He groans, slumping against my side and wrapping his arms around my middle, trapping my arms in between his. "I take it back."

I wiggle my arms free, reaching out with my hands and pulling him close. He goes without resistance, shifting to lay his head in my lap and grinning up at me as he lays his legs across the rest of the swing. Now I'm the one using my heels to rock us back and forth, pressing my finger against the dimple in his cheek. Maybe it's just because he's tired, but all he does is swat me away. He doesn't stop smiling.

"What if you're not allowed to take it back?" I ask, leaning down into his personal space and smirking, seeing his eyes go straight up to look into mine, surprise evident there.

"Sucks to be me I guess."

I wait for him to add more but he just shrugs, patting my cheeks with his hands and then dropping them.

"That's it? Dan Howell is backing down with no fight?" I challenge. "He's not gonna be a stubborn ass?"

He raises an eyebrow, deliberating for a moment, then grabs my cheeks and pulls my head down, reaching up to land a kiss on the tip of my nose. I gasp and he giggles, blushing as he falls back against my legs.

"I'm always a stubborn ass." He counters after a heartbeat. He folds his arms. "It's a very extra-special part of my personality that I like to use. Only with you, though."

I realize he's turning my own joke on me and stare at him incredulously.

"Shut up!" I exclaim. My mind is racing now, going back to just before we fell asleep when my thoughts had been muddled and my emotions hyperactive, far too strong in the aftermath of the attack. After seeing Dan with James it was like I'd felt no bounds then, worn down to nothing more than mere emotion and strong feelings of affection.

Last night was a spurt of courage, seeing Dan being so gentle and speaking so softly to the little boy did something to me, and I could only watch in the doorframe as he spoke so low I couldn't hear what passed between them, between James and my best friend. I've hardly ever seen Dan like that.

Except... with me.

He shrugs. "Our life is already gone to shit for us. We might as well enjoy it while we can."

Something about the wording stops me short and I look at him in surprise. He doesn't even seem to notice what he's said, just shuts his eyes and rests his forehead against my stomach. I run a tentative hand through his hair and he doesn't object, letting me wind one curl around my index.

I don't know why it hits me so profoundly that Dan is comfortable enough to say these things, to lie here with me and make fun of my affection if only to make me feel better, reminding me we're going to be okay and that I'm cared for instead of the other way around. There was no definitive time I can remember, no drastic change I can recall where things were suddenly different, it's just where we are. There was no distinct moment when our lives became our life.

But it is our life now. We might as well enjoy it while we can.

We, us, our, he's tied us together in the simplest and yet most wonderful way, in tiny bits of pronoun that mean so much more than he'll ever know. I bet he has absolutely no idea he's done it but I hold the thought in my heart, not even bothering to conceal the stupid smile pushing up my cheeks.

"Let's up the stakes." I propose, jostling him which makes him open his eyes grumpily, pretending I'm interrupting his sleep. He looks so cute like this, relaxed and unconsciously beautiful in all the ways I'm not, it has me acting without thinking like I'm drugged, drugged in the best kind of way.

"How so?" He asks me.

I crawl my fingers over his shoulder, brushing his neck which I know he hates and watching him shrink away from the touch, squeaking irritably with no small amount of amusement.

"What if I told you I care about you a lot too?"

His face reddens further and I wonder how I never realized how susceptible to blushing he is, the most minor of jokes and jabs bring the flush out like it's a natural tint in his skin.

He looks so amused. I just want to say I'm flirting with you, idiot. It would get all this out of the way no problem.

"I'd say that's great Phil." he grumbles decidedly.

"Oh?" I inquire. "Let's hear it then."

He rolls his eyes. "That's great, Philly."

I'm about to say something else when he sits up, smiling devilishly. "Actually, that's  awesome."

Before I can react he's shot out his arms and grabbed my upper arms, pushing me against the back of the swing and causing it to rock back so suddenly he's thrown forward against my chest. He doesn't even seem to care, hitching a leg over mine to get more comfortable and ignoring the squeak of protest that leaves my lips, sliding his hands up to my shoulders.

"Fantastic." He adds. He drops his fingers to tickle me relentlessly and I screech at the discomfort as he adds "spectacular. Wonderful. Great, just great, Phil!" His fingers dig into the soft spot between my ribs and my hips and I'm certain I'm going to die, squirming under his hold.

"Stop it!" I gasp, tears forming at the corners of my eyes as I try to get away, laughing so hard my chest hurts and I fall against him, trying to push him off.

"Philip Michael Lester." He proclaims, relenting only for a moment to wiggle his fingers threateningly. "Don't you fucking touch my neck."

"I'm sorry!" I gasp, but he just shakes his head.

I barely have to make a sound of despair before he's reaching to attack me again, spurring a panic in my chest. I jerk out of the way and lurch forward without thinking, pushing him backwards off the swing, feeling proud before noticing a fundamental flaw in this approach.

His leg is hitched around mine, arms reaching out to grab me as he tumbles back.

Because his instinctive motion to stop his fall is to scrabble his hands to grab my shirt I end up getting yanked down with him, the both of us crashing to the wooden deck in a heap with an oof of pain as I tumble on top of him. There's a brief moment of confusion in which he groans in pain and I lift my head off his chest with a wince, having hit my nose off his collarbone. When I sit up though I find his eyes trained on me, a sore but bemused expression on his face.

My legs are tangled with his, one hand resting on his chest and the other between his elbow and side. Our eyes meet from directly below my field of vision and before I can stop it my heart begins to flutter in my chest, cheeks reddening as I try to think of a nonchalant way to shuffle off of him. I can feel his hips and the curve of his thigh beneath my leg, the soft shapes suddenly hyper-focused in my brain.

The midday sunlight slants across his face and brings out the coppery flecks in his eyes that wouldn't be noticeable in the darkness, the pale glow on his pink lips slowly making my mind go blank. I try to think of something to say because he looks shocked at the sudden change, mind reaching for the first thing I can think of.

"Bit of a... compromising position, right?" I joke weakly. He just stares, looking distracted as he shifts to the side and holds out an arm to help me sit up.

I scramble to my knees as quickly as I can, holding out my hand to him to help him stand up. He flinches as his still not-quite-healed shoulder is disturbed and takes it, and when we both wobble back onto our feet together he stumbles again. I move to catch him at the same time he leans forward to grab me for support, so at the last moment when we both stand up, my breaths are rushing out in pants and his hand ends up rested on my waist.

"Compromising, Phil." He mumbles. His hand curls at my side and his warm eyes flicker to mine and I panic, seeing and feeling him against me suddenly overwhelming me and making my eyes widen, mind reeling and heart racing as he looks at me with something I can't describe.

"Where's James?" I blurt, hands flying to his chest because I'm not sure what's happening and a there's flipping sensation making my heart race far faster than I can believe, urging me to flee before things get out of control.

"Shit." He gasps. His eyes widen and he scrambles off me and onto his feet, forgetting the playful banter instantly. "James."

My heart is still pounding and I don't even realize the magnitude of the issue at first, trying to convince myself he's just with his brother. Dan is on his feet in moments, quite obviously even more worried about this child than I am. He can brush it off all he likes, I know for a fact that they bonded last night.

Dan crosses the porch in moments and pulls open the door with a creak, gesturing me through. In the back of my mind I know we're getting irrationally worried about this, but with the events of the past few days, I don't trust anything anymore.

There's still clusters of people inside the house, though everyone is awake and in motion now. No one spares us a second glance as we stumble in, moving down the hall and past the staircase we'd collapsed by last night. My eyes skim the heads and faces in every room, trying to pick out the small boys' faces among the crowd.

In the light, it's evident just how old this house actually is. It's a family home- that kind that has heavy oak paneling and narrow hallways, complete with a steep staircase and floral wallpaper. The furnishings suggest that before the apocalypse this place must have belonged to an old lady. The cushy couches and china cabinets are piled with jackets, people and scattered personal possessions.

There's several kids in here, both boys and girls, but James and Micheal aren't among them.

It seems odd that James left us in the night. How could we have just ignored that before?

I'm about to turn to Dan and suggest we look somewhere else when he tugs on my sleeve and points over at the lady who had looked after me last night, Emily.

She has her back turned to us, speaking to someone else, a group of people who are partially hidden by the doorway arch to the kitchen hallway, and the two boys are sitting at her feet rolling a ball between themselves.

As soon as James catches sight of us though he shouts excitedly, turning several heads and making Emily jump in surprise. He jumps up eagerly and takes his brother by the hand, yanking him forward so that he has no choice but to be dragged along.

"Dan!" He cheers, dropping his brother's hand once they're mere feet away from us and launching into Dan, taking him by surprise as he suddenly finds his middle being squeezed by a six-year-old.

"Oh." Dan mumbles, likely caught off-guard by another person expressing affection for him. His arms lift up in surprise to wrap around the boy and and James clings into him like a koala, giggling and laughing like he's been reunited with his best friend.

Standing off to the side and witnessing the spectacle, I hear a couple people aww-ing and even see some parents shooting approving looks Dan's way. It makes warmth rise in my heart seeing so many people smiling at him, it's what he deserved so long ago. Hopefully they don't think we're their parents, not when I could hardly support a houseplant back in the normal days.

I make eye contact with Micheal accidentally and I think we both blink in surprise, staring over at each other as we're caught on the outside of this unexpected happening.

It hits me then that I've never really spoken to the kid. He looks unsure and awkward without his dad to stand beside,  staring back at me with a section of dark hair falling messily into his eyes like he's not sure what to do. He's not uncomfortable but he looks almost lost, having never really gotten to know us while his brother is an open book.

I try to smile at him reassuringly but shyness wins over, so in a moment of impulse. I close my fingers and turn to him, holding out my fist at his eye level. I see him frown in confusion, so I straighten my arm a bit.

Then, he gets it. His eyebrows go up in surprise at this small bit of attention, Dan's eyes lifting from Jamie to watch our interaction in fascination. The boy looks up at my eyes as if to double-check that I'm certain and when I hold my hand out invitingly, he seems to realize that I'm serious.

To my surprise as much as his, he raises a small hand, curling his fingers into a fist and bumping it against my hand. If I'm not mistaken, a little smile starts to creep over his lips.

The moment the smile becomes more than obviously visible he ducks his head and turns away, shaking his head as if to clear it, but a happy feeling bursts in my chest when I see him step minutely closer to me.

He's like Dan. I realize fondly. The happy boy is there, he's just protecting himself.

"Hey, Micheal." I say gently. "Looking after your brother?"

Mike nods, still with his eyes cast to the floor, but he seems less uncomfortable now that he has someone to talk to.

"Yeah." He answers. There's no trace of bitterness like when he'd spoken in the apartment, chiding his brother for wanting to play with toys. Maybe it was all just a face he put up.

"Philly!" Jamie exclaims. Dan has knelt down so that the kid can sit on his knee but James stretches his arm out to reach me too, so even though there are dozens of eyes on us right now I lean forward and let him hug me, taking care to steady myself with a hand on Dan's shoulder so I don't crash to the floor.

Dan tenses slightly, still not accustomed I realize to letting himself look comfortable around anyone in public. I try to pretend that doesn't hurt, knowing he doesn't mean it, and trying to take it in stride.

"I wonder who told him to call me Philly?" I ask mock-curiously, looking over at Dan who holds up his hands innocently.

"I actually didn't." He says offhandedly. "I think he just came up with that."

"Where did you go last night?" I ask James curiously, drawing back to stand up and look around.

"Back to Mikey." He says, grinning at me cheekily. "I figured you guys were okay without me, you were all wrapped up in the blanket wi-"

"-Okay." Dan cuts in. "Great. You're a good brother for not leaving him alone all night."

I smirk at him and he rolls his eyes, pretending he isn't flustered when he so deliberately cut off James to keep him from announcing to the room that we were cuddling each other. I don't know whether to be sad or amused honestly. Dan doesn't look at me and it's at that exact moment that Emily turns around to greet us, stepping out of the way to see who the kids are talking to.

Just as she's turned to see us, another face catches my attention.

I'd thought it'd be a surprise to wake up in the morning wrapped in Dan's arms and end up flirting with him, but it seems the surprises aren't quite over yet today.

The man's eyes meet mine, both of us gaping comically before he's stumbled forward. For a moment I can't believe my eyes. His skinny body is dressed in the same grey t-shirt and dark jeans he was wearing when we last saw him and his brown hair is just as much a mess as it flops over his silver eyes, but it can't be. The confederation took him. Dan watched PJ charge through a tunnel filled with zombies to reach him, they took them both, yet here he is in front of us looking like he can't believe his eyes either.

"Chris!" I gasp.

He's alive. He's here. How can he be here?

"Chris." Dan gets out. He loosens his hold on Micheal, lowering him to the floor. "What- how-?"

"You're here." He exclaims. He's pushed through the few people between us and made it over in a matter of moments, eyes wide as he takes us in. He looks awful, his eyes sunken and tired and his face and arms covered in scratches. I remember Dil scraping his arm when he fell in the half-life camp, cursing because part zombies never heal well. I wonder how long the wounds will be there.

"You're alive." I manage to mumble.

He looks between Dan and I and I feel James's hand curl around my finger, confused probably about who this stranger is that's interrupted his time with Dan.

"We've been looking for you all afternoon." He exclaims.

Dan is gaping at him, blushing faintly though I have no idea why. I never did hear the full story of what the two of them talked about that night in the tunnel. I'm starting to wonder if I'll maybe never know. In any case, I'm assuming that's the reasoning behind it.

He looks at Chris in disbelief, making me realize I hadn't been the only one who had really not been sure for these last few weeks that he was even alive.

"You escaped the confederation?" I exclaim, completely unable to comprehend how he could be fine right now.

He folds his arms over his chest and looks at us hesitantly, clearly with a story to tell and some memories he'd rather not think about.

"Yeah." He mutters. "You could say that. I've been trying to sense you since I got here but I didn't have anything to go by, there's some shit going down and it's why I'm here in the first place."

"Where's everybody else?" Dan asks.

"Have you heard from Mark or Felix?" I add.

"Mark and Felix are fine." He says hurriedly. "I know where they are and I know how to save PJ. We don't have very much time so we'll need to hurry, we can't find Dan's dad even though Mark and I looked."

My heart sinks suddenly. I watch as Dan's face falters before my very eyes, closing off to something desperately trying to show nothing, to feel nothing.

"He's here." Dan protests. "Cat said he was okay."

It was one of the last few things she'd ever told us last night beefier she'd been killed. She'd said that Mr. Howell was alive and still in the camp. It seems scarily convenient that Chris is back and he's suddenly missing.

I see Chris's eyes widen and he moves to backtrack, staring at Dan. "He probably is! We just don't know where he's hidden."

The excitement in Dan's face vanishes. His energy and determination, lost.

"Well where's Felix and Mark?" I ask quickly, a chill running down my spine at the ominous implications of Mr. Howell's absence. I can't let him think about it right now. We haven't even begun to deal with Cat's loss yet.

Before I can even answer I see a man stride into the room, recognizing him immediately when the other one follows.

"We're here." Mark announces loudly.

It surprises me as much as anybody when my heart leaps in my chest despite the dark news at the sight of my friends, both of them beaten down. Felix has a cut on his cheek and Mark is covered in bruises, about as much as you'd expect after the attack and the considerations of their personalities. It seems almost fitting that Felix very obviously guarded his friend's back during yesterday's fight while Mark went in for the hand to hand combat, they both look relieved when they see us two mostly fine.

Actually, Mark looks so relieved it almost hurts to look at.

He walks over as calmly as Felix does but I can see the relief in his expression. It's almost as if he'd been expecting us to have been captured, and I can't help but grin when he looks up to meet our eyes.

"Dan and Phil." He breathes, shaking his head. "You idiots. You absolute idiots."

I step forward, not sure what I'm planning, to shake his hand maybe.

What ends up happening is he strides forward, laughing at our dumbstruck expressions and pulling both Dan and I into a hug.

I'm so shocked I don't even move to reciprocate in any way- just sink against him limply. Dan's shoulder is pressed against mine and we're all frozen for a moment in unified shock, but I'm so incredibly grateful he's fine that it takes me a moment to return myself to reality. Everything has been turned upside down.

"Hey Mark." I chuckle, still smiling faintly.

We stand there in silence for a moment until he draws back with a somewhat more serious expression, glancing us over and seeming to make the mental headcount that makes his expression wane.

"Cat?" He whispers.

And there it is, the inevitable question to which he probably already knows the answer. A shudder runs through Dan and I hurry to speak the answer for him, knowing how difficult it is to even think about when we're trying desperately to stay hopeful.

"She's gone."

He nods, sighing heavily and closing his eyes, and when he looks back up at me, it's like his face has aged with the heaviness in his eyes. "Right."

"Wirrow was here yesterday." Felix says seriously. "They've left the camp alone but they have agents stationed a few blocks away, hoping for negotiations. That's why they gave back Chris, to prove they just wanna talk."

My mind has begun to race and I replay those words in my mind, trying desperately to make sense of it.

"Wait, gave you back?"

"That's what I wanted to talk about." Chris says seriously.

My mind is racing so fast and things are happening at a pace that I can barely keep up with, but their eyes are all full of purpose like one night has changed it all.

"There's literally no time." Mark explains. "The people in charge back at camp, they've gathered people all within the course of the night, I guess this has all been building up for a while but last night was the final straw."

The attack at the camp, I realize. I vaguely remember talking to the medic while Dan had been unconscious, learning that this was probably the strongest survive camp in the entire city, both because of its size and it's connections to notorious gang groups and other camps alike.

It's good to have alliances, that man had said. I wish belatedly that I'd listened more carefully now. Perhaps I'd understand how large this buildup is, but I had been so concerned about Dan at that time.

"A revolution is starting." Emily adds in conversationally. She wanders over to stand by us and takes James and Mike by the hand, squeezing James' shoulder as if to ease the fear some of these words might affect on him. "We're contacting other camps. The kids and I went for a little walk last night to check on some of my unofficial family who hadn't sheltered in here. Chris arrived last night and we've been talking with the others to see what's been going on. The city isn't about to suffer under these people anymore."

"They let me go." Chris says quietly. He looks out of focused as he's forced to think back on wheres he's been, and I both want to and don't want to know what he heard or what the confederation did to him. "I told them to free PJ but they said I was more useful because I'm half-zombie. They're almost certainly watching me from somewhere but they don't realize how many conversations I've overheard. I know what they're planning things and that's why we need to go tonight. Because they kept PJ for the chance to use him against me."

The last sentence comes out pained and I see Dan react instantly, flinching at the statement because he's heard the very same words. He'd already drawn into himself earlier but now I can see actual fear, and before I can stop myself I'm shooting out my hand and taking his, making him jump as I wait for someone to comment and Dan tenses like he wants to let go.

To my surprise, Mark just blinks and Chris looks over at us abruptly with raised eyebrows before carrying on, Emily doesn't even look affected.

"We'll explain everything better when we get back to camp." Mark continues hurriedly. "But there's a chance we can breach the confederation and save Peej as a result of it."

"They want Dan." Chris says quietly.

Dan's hand tenses in mine and I desperately want to comfort him, but I don't know how when anything I attempt I'm front of them would likely just stress him out further.

Dan looks at him, nodding curtly with far too blank of an expression. "And you know why they do, don't you?"

Chris nods, not even attempting to preface this. "Yes. I'm assuming you both already know that they're after him for his immunity, right?"

Dan and I nod tersely, a sudden silence sitting in the air.

"The reason they want him so badly is because they think they've found a cure for the virus." Chris states, looking us all in the eyes in turn. "The cure is literally immunity, which can be spread the same way the virus can- with blood transfer."

The information hasn't really sunk in yet and I wait for him to continue, catching Dan's eyes on me with a strange expression on his face.

"So while I don't think you can spread immunity by biting someone, performing a blood transfusion with blood immune to the virus is actually entirely possible. They've already chemically replicated some of it, but the effects are only temporary."

Chris looks into my eyes and I almost know what he's going to say next, dread sinking into my stomach when I realize my fears are probably about to be confirmed.

"They want Dan," He says quietly, "because they want to use his blood to create a virus that can't be beaten. He's the only immune person left, they'll try everything to find him until they either find him or get taken down."

A silence hangs over us then. My eyes go to Dan expecting to see him looking fearful in the face of something so hopeless, but when they actually reach his face I see only a flatness, an anger there at the injustice of it all.

"Well let's take them down, then." He replies coldly. I'm struck by how certain he sounds, not a shred of hesitation. "Let's go as soon as we can, and end this fucking apocalypse before this kills anyone else."

Everyone looks stunned and it takes a moment for the actual proposition to be laid, I'm staring at Dan in shock but he looks unfocused and determined. I know I'll follow him and support him through anything, but without even saying it, I think we all know this night might be the real thing.

I know, too, that part of it is guilt. He feels responsible for all the deaths that may or may not have happened last night and that's probably a massive guilty motivation, but if he can be brave enough to do this, I can be brave enough to prove him wrong.

"We're sneaking into a junkyard tonight where Wirrow's men are supposed to be stationed." Chris continues eventually, breaking the silence with some slight disbelief. "They think that the lie they told me while I was imprisoned about the junkyard being where PJ is being held is all I've heard, but the truth is it's where they hope to ambush us."

"So they literally released you on purpose." I realize. "They want us to come walking right in."

"And we will." Mark agrees. "But not in the way they're expecting. We've agreed with other camps to have people storm the Broxbourne base so that everyone stationed at the yard is distracted. Assuming they leave one or two people behind we'll be able to capture them and take them prisoner, surely enough coercive motions will gain us more information. Storming the base gives us entry access and even more prisoners, so it's not a waste of people."

"It's incredibly low-risk on our end." Chris informs us. "Emily will stay back here and look after the kids until it's safe for their Dad to reach them and the people at camp will go out before us tonight. By the time we get there the yard should be empty, Wirrow himself thinks Dan has fled into the city so he's moved to the north end, he wants the ability probably more than he's wanted anything."

"How do we know I have immunity?" Dan asks unexpectedly. "What if we've been wrong this whole time, and I suddenly get captured because of something I don't have?"

Mark looks at him reassuringly, placing a hand on his shoulder and shaking his head.

"They won't capture you." He insists. "We're never gonna let that happen."

"You're the most powerful rebel this city has." Chris urges him encouragingly. "The hope is to take them down tonight and you two are the best allies we could possibly ask for. You're not going to be alone, we'll all have your back, Dan. Are you guys in?"

I look at Dan and see his hesitation, his eyes going to me like I might tell him no. This may be a chance to end everything. To save PJ and Dan's father, and potentially get leverage against Wirrow for a change. I try to imagine a world where Dan is safe and there's still a deep set anger burning in me, one that makes me wish with everything in me that the confederation falls.

I squeeze Dan's hand tightly and he seems to remember that I'm holding it, a dark look suddenly crossing his face as he lets go and closes his fingers quickly. I start in surprise and Mark glances at me in confusion.

Dan avoids my eye guilty, an inexplicable pain and confusion sinking into my heart that I resolve to talk to him about later. For now though, we have a purpose.

"We're in." He says quietly.

"Phil?"

I nod.

"Then let's not waste any time." Chris says seriously.

We say goodbye to James, Micheal and Emily and walk down the hall to the front door. We leave behind the swing and I savour the memory of Dan and I's last few moments alone there, silence between us though the air is buzzing with thoughts of revolution and a plan to make everything change. It's on,y the beginning, but it's still undeniable chance.

It's only when we've almost reached the front door that Chris seems to remember how he found us, separated from the others when he entered the house.

"I'm guessing you two did all right on your own, last night?" Chris asks conversationally as we move to leave the house.

The question is innocent but for whatever reason Dan blushes anyway, incriminating both of us when we haven't actually done anything. I glance over at Mark and see him smirk bemusedly when he meets my eyes, shaking his head almost knowingly. I lean over to him, seeing him raise his eyebrows.

"Shut up." I hiss at him.

The moment is serious, but for the briefest of moments despite everything, I catch the flicker of a smile.

It's impossible, but somehow in one evening, we suddenly have a plan.

~~~

Every time Dan looks my way there's a strange expression on his face, like he knows something I don't.

Maybe it's because he dropped my hand earlier. Maybe it's the nerves of what we're doing tonight. Whether it's neither or both reasons, we stay together but neither touch nor speak.

It's hours later. Conversation between us and our friends is fairly subdued, inconsistent as everybody busies themselves preparing for the sendoff. The immediate action is to distract the confeds while rebels try and push past their defenses. The confederation has hundreds of prisoners- people who have been taken from friends and families for experimentation or blackmailing, government officials, even a few traitors who thought they could abandon the cause.

Our objective, as mentioned earlier, is specifically to get the information we need to rescue PJ and Dan's father. We're given a rundown by Chris of where the junkyard is and how we're going to reach it, and Dan stands by my side without a word taking them in while his fingers grip a crowbar, newly arrived at the camp and given to him by the man named Jack who'd looked after him in the med tent. I'm holding my axe, Mark and Felix have traded their guns for knives; blades don't need reloading, as Mark had pointed out. There's a feeling of tension in the air and the confederation is completely silent, as if the entire world is holding its breath.

Time slips between our fingers like grains of sand during our time back at the camp and I hardly feel it, battered faces of other campers and hands clutching sharpened weapons diluting my sense of time as the feeling from last night returns. Plans dance around the air and people keep arriving, probably the greatest appearance diversity I've ever seen since the normal days. People of all shapes, sizes, ages and race, all gathering in the park with the same objective.

One gang in particular who did business with Beard and Earring trade news with my friends and I, informing us that a mix of half lifes and confeds are poised in the nearby area, about seven blocks away awaiting anyone's attempt to escape. The intention of last night had been to capture us, a new plan being formed to keep us in place.

The same message hangs in the air: no more. This is the end of the manipulation and senseless killing, the nights spent keeping out of sight in the shell of my home while people die for nothing. This is about my friends and family, my mum and my dad, my brother and Dan's mother. I feel powerful in a way, standing in this silent crowd in the remains of the camp with the drive to end this once and for all in the city where it started. Taking down the confederation is definitely ambitious, but it's more possible than its ever been.

The difference between this time and others is that I'm able to do something about it. This isn't like the half-life camp where I let Dan be dragged away from me before my very eyes, nothing but an axe between me and a band of monsters. Now, I have friends behind me. Strangers are banding together to watch each other's backs, perhaps it's crazy but it's a chance to put an end to the horror that has taken over the world. Dan is here with me- immune to the virus and silently determined by my side.

It's different this time because we're ready to fight. It's different because I'm not afraid anymore.

By evening, we have a location to go to.

"It's a trap without a doubt." Chris tells us as we stand by the gates, faces glowing in the light of distant cooking fires. "They're hiding them out in a lot, an abandoned junkyard where they think they can negotiate with us without needing a compromise. What they don't know is that we're already one step ahead of them. And we have something they don't."

I feel dread in the pit of my stomach but I ask it anyway, even though I'm pretty sure I already know the answer. My suspicions are confirmed when I look over at Dan and see how stoic he's gone, a blank expression without a shred of emotion to hint at.

"And what's that?"

Chris looks at me seriously, but there's an air of something like apology in the way his eyebrows raise. It confirms what I'm thinking but he nods solemnly, indicating his head to my left.

"We have Dan."

I knew it was coming, but I still close my eyes for a moment. "Right."

I don't think I'll ever be used to it. We both know by now that Dan holds a certain power over them but it'll never be normal to know that they want him, that we can't ever truly be okay as long as the confederation has power. Because as long as Dan's alive, they'll want him for themselves. He's the one that's had this all placed upon him and it hurts knowing I have to put him in the face of danger.

"I was thinking more along the lines of knowing every move we make, which they don't have." Dan mutters, "but great, I'm up for bartering if you need it."

The sarcasm and defeat in his voice is heavy. I try to place a hand on his shoulder and he stiffens, frowning slightly and pulling away. It's this response, not the one he's given vocally, that earns him a shocked look from Chris.

"Dan we're not going to be using you against anybody." Mark says gently. "Chris is trying to say that they have no power over you or Phil or any of us."

I fold my arms and nod towards Dan instead of touching him this time, feeling my morale wane slightly. "We're going to be all right." I tell him, reiterating what he'd said earlier. "It's okay. We will be. It's all right."

"It's not all right." He snaps.

There is literally no time to waste. We only have this small chance of ever getting into the confederation and if we don't, we don't who or what else could possibly be gone for good.

It doesn't take long to leave the camp behind. We have an edge on the confederation in the way that they don't know we're coming prepared. They think we're just out to rescue Mr. Howell, when we know he's elsewhere and may even be safe. Whatever attack they have planned for us, we already know it's coming. My heart starts beating faster the closer we get, wandering down the highway that's suspiciously devoid of monsters.

It's not a smooth transition. We stick to walls, sometimes stopping so long because Chris senses a monster that I start to get restless. We move from side street to side street, trusting nothing more or less than Chris's intuition, avoiding even the slightest evidence of other humans.

Hours pass. We keep moving.

And no one gets in our way.

~~~

"It's empty." Mark mutters. Chris looks perplexed.

A chain-link fence rises up before us, topped with barbed wire but fairly useless at its do not enter proclamations, seeing how the gate is wide open.

"I thought this is where all of them were going to be." Felix says quietly. We all peer past the gates and look into the junkyard again, but it's completely deserted. The sun is starting to sink below the horizon and now everything is washed in burnt orange and violet, oddly beautiful for a junkyard filled with tower after tower of old car parts and discarded scrap. The shadows are getting heavier and it's eerily quiet, only the groans of distant zombies far away from us on another street to penetrate the air.

"I don't trust this." Chris says decidedly. "There's tire tracks in the dirt there-" he gestures to the ground, where fresh tread marks show the departure of several trucks. "-it's like they've all left to go somewhere else. Like something more important has happened. But why would they move?"

Dan looks at me for a moment. I can tell he doesn't know any more than I do, but I take assurance in the fact that he's at least seeking my thoughts first.

"I don't know." Mark mutters. He draws out his knife and holds it forward cautiously, skimming the paths through the scrap piles with apprehension. "We should probably still look around just to be sure. Everyone in?"

"Sure." Felix says with a nod, walking over.

Dan looks to Chris, the two of them meeting eyes and having what looks like a silent conversation between each other. Considering he suddenly can't look at me anymore, it makes a weird pang of jealousy go through me.

"Can you sense anybody in the area?" He asks pointedly. I remember us asking Cat similar things in our solo days, back when we had to rely on her and her only whilst exploring a new town.

Chris closes his eyes and focuses for a moment, reopening them and shaking his head.

"Nothing."

"Anything?" He prompts. "Zombies, half-lifes? People or animals of any kind?"

Chris looks perplexed. "No."

"Then keep your weapons out." He replies. "We should still look around."

We all start forward and for whatever reason my eyes are drawn to a leaning woodshed just next to the fence, almost expecting to see one of those hybrid zombie dogs to jump out. I don't trust anything anymore. Nothing does, but the quietness has me on edge.

Just before the two of us pass the threshold, Dan and I suddenly make eye contact. A strange look crosses his face.

"Wait." Dan says abruptly. His hand finds my shoulder and it stops me in place, making Mark glance back at us confusedly before he falls back into step with Felix.

"We'll catch up with you guys in a minute." I call over to him, nervousness already settling into the pit of my stomach even before Mark has disappeared around the corner, concealed by a rickety shed covered in sheets of rusted metal siding. Dan isn't looking into my eyes and I realize our interactions from earlier haven't left his mind. It's written all over his face; it would take more than averted eyes for me not to see it.

He delays the introduction for a moment, pretending to be focused on the departure of our friends. I can practically see the gears turning in his head, the poised, careful distraction allowing him to gather his thoughts.

I decide to get the ball rolling, unable to keep this impossible amount of nerves and anticipation contained in my chest.

"Okay." I venture cautiously. "What is it?"

His brown eyes study me as if to dissect my mood, to find the right way to approach this, and I realize this is probably bigger than I thought. Its years of knowing him- knowing the way he speaks, acts and thinks. It's not first nature for us to feel nerves around each other. This is something he doesn't know how to say.

"It's not a big deal." He protests. "We have somewhere to be."

I catch his arm.

"We're not going anywhere for a second." I reply evenly. "We both know that you won't be able to move forward if we don't address it, whatever's on your mind, so might as well say it quickly here so that when we're in the fight you'll be able to think clearly, and you don't have to put it off."

He looks at me in disbelief but luckily seems to get me immediately, understanding dawning on his features and at least hiding some of the hesitation. We can't afford to be distracted in this fight, and tension has been boiling between us all day. It's better to just face it than leave it potentially unresolved forever, now or never one might say in the face of looming death.

"There's something going on." He states, not even pre-empting it when his words are coming in a rush. "We're both hiding something from each other. That shouldn't be how we work."

It's an odd thing to say out of nowhere and it stops me fairly effectively, the sounds of Mark and Felix slowly fading. It's like they know.

I don't know what to say to that, meeting his eyes and seeing a strange expression I don't recognize. It's like nerves and hesitation together.

I raise my eyebrows. "So you're admitting there's something to worry about?"

"Phil." He looks at me pointedly and I fight to keep a neutral expression on my face, faltering under the realization that I'm not fooling anybody.

"Okay." I mumble, embarrassed. "But that means you're hiding something from me?"

He blushes, I'm not sure if it's because he's been called out or because of the magnitude of what he's hiding. In either case, I have no idea.

"Are you surprised?" He asks unexpectedly. "Doesn't everybody hide something? That's kind of the point of why I haven't told you."

I suppose we all do. I guess it's more odd that we trust each other wholeheartedly and we're still having trouble. Though mind you, most friendships don't have an awkward romantic implication hidden in their equations.

"Not really." I decide. "It's just weird to think that even we're doing it."

When he looks in my eyes I see an unbelievable amount of understanding there, a silent message that he feels it too.

"Do you have a reason? Why can't we just tell each other?" He questions.

It makes me stop for a moment- stops me right in my tracks as I evaluate everything I've ever known or thought of. I could just tell him everything. I could tell him the truth in moments, but I can't help but remember that I'm afraid to. It's not and never will be easy. At the same time, I feel guilty for being afraid of loving him, ashamed that I can't tell him why I'm scared. So I guess I don't really have a reason, which makes me wonder if he doesn't either.

"I don't know... why." I say quietly. I see Felix's retreating back already poking through scraps of twisted metal in one pile in the yard, our other friends way out of sight. Dan looks calmly at me and it's as if for a moment the danger evaporates. I just saturate in him.

It hits me suddenly. This could be it. In this moment I could tell him everything, anything that I've ever felt with no holds barred, the quiet and the proximity and the sheer fact that the air feels so charged right now. It would make anyone feel a little reckless.

"You want to tell me what your secret is?" He challenges.

I don't feel nervous because I know he's oblivious to what the secret actually is, but he does have a point. I roll my eyes, smiling tiredly instead to try and insert an air of teasing. "Only if you tell me what happened that night in the confederation bunker that I can't remember."

His eyes widen and I feel that tug in my heart again, the inexplicable way I'm drawn to him the way the tides draw the ocean. He shoves me when I don't break my gaze on him, trying to redirect my mind to something else.

"I already said," he stammers sheepishly, "you're better off not knowing."

The curiosity of what happened that night still burns in my mind. There's scarcely a time where Dan refuses to tell me anything, and I can't think of a conceivable reason why he'd want to hide it. I remember we'd argued about it before, the last time he'd tried to skirt around it. What could have possibly happened?

"Fair enough." I relent. "But I'm guessing that's not what you're keeping."

"If that's what you're guessing, then you're right." He confirms, though his face reveals that saying this was not easy. "You probably already know and just don't realize."

It's odd, but even though those words probably should've upset me, I find them strangely calming. It makes me realize he's about as graceful at this as I am, to the point where it literally can't wait anymore. Unresolved secrets are hanging over us both and we can't move forward until they're addressed, they're affecting the way we look at each other.

He smiles at me hesitantly and I breathe out a laugh, the sound tight and awkward but releasing some of the tension. It's not just that, I realize. The words he's saying are mine as well, the truth behind them familiar. I don't think I know, but maybe if he explains it I will.

"I could say the same to you." I admit. I see his dark irises more clearly and realize they've gone round in astonishment. He smiles sheepishly and I'm half expecting him to make some kind of outrageous guess, like we're hyping this up to something way bigger than it should be.

He shakes his head, blinking a couple times. "Erm, you don't have to justify my problem like that." He mumbles, embarrassed. "I already know I'm failing completely here."

His appearance is reassuring, calming. The golden glow of the evening sun makes him look warm and beautiful, the last dregs of the day casting over him in this suspended moment between before and after, thoughts of confessions making me remember what I wanted to say to him in the first place.

I open my mouth. "Forget it. What I really wanted to say was that-"

That I love him. Screw whatever he tells me, whatever he thinks I won't be able to take. Just tell him that you love him, he probably wouldn't even react much.

But how could we stay together in an apocalypse with that hanging over us if he didn't feel the same? Tensions so high they could make or break us? His eyes lock with mine and I lose all confidence immediately. Like always.

I just can't do it when I'm aware of his attention. I actually shake my head, nervously stuttering.

"-Never mind."

What I don't expect is his expression of understanding.

"You don't have to say anything." He replies quietly, almost sounding a bit awkward. Even so he gives me a gentle look, taking my hand, and that understanding alone makes my heart jump in a way I can scarcely believe. That doesn't even begin to explain how I'm feeling at the physical contact. "Let's just get through this."

"What if we don't?" I mumble, distracted by our fingers threaded together.

He surprises me, tugging my hand to make me look up, a determined expression on his face.

"We will," he insists. "I promise." And just from the expression he's giving me I believe him, the encouragement in his smile and the raised eyebrows looking for all the world like even he believes those words too. It's a sharp contrast to how he'd felt earlier, that brief but painful moment of helplessness.

He drops the tough act and pulls me over, wrapping me in a tight hug that doesn't suit our surroundings. Completely not expecting the warm, gentle response I sort of just fall into it, letting myself be pressed against him. It's warm and it surrounds me and I can't help but think about just how much has changed since earlier in the year, when hugging was a sign of weakness to him and he couldn't be seen doing it. Now however, he doesn't seem to care.

I rest my head on his shoulder and squeeze him until my fear dissolves, feeling the nerves practically melt away for a moment. I'm still holding his hand when he goes to pull back. It always seems to be him who lets go first, though his hand is still wound through mine.

Both our eyes go to our linked fingers, then back up to each other.

I don't know who moves forward first but I don't ever recall time slowing so suddenly. One minute I'm looking into his eyes, emotion swirling in them plainly. It's a sight I could never anticipate, so uses to his guarded actions. Then, only moments later, he's lifted his head and suddenly our faces are inches apart.

It must be an accident. Ours noses brush, eyes both raising up to the others at the same time.

I swallow. "Dan-"

I feel his breath ghosting warm over my mouth, see freckled cheeks at a much closer proximity. I think it surprises both of us a little. He seems to suddenly realize what's happening and jumps, jerking back so quickly I can't even think about bridging the gap. His eyes are wide even though he's trying to conceal it, and my heart is pounding.

This is not the time to be getting the wrong idea.

"Lets go?" He asks weakly and I lower my eyes, not bothering to hide my mixed feelings.

"Yeah." I murmur, feigning interest in a strangely shaped piece of scrap. "I-I guess."

Neither of us move.

The silence and motionlessness carries on until it reaches the point of being awkward, neither of us doing anything to change our stance. All I can feel is the pull of his hand in mine, the emptiness and obvious rejection he's aiming my way. And the unspoken notion that we haven't resolved anything.

I raise my eyebrows, trying to hide the hurt in my expression. "So are we going to-"

"I have to ask you something." He blurts, stepping back and dropping my hand without looking at me. His cheeks are dark and he looks terrified, like he hadn't intended to get this far. He covers it up quickly, trying to look as unaffected as my dumbstruck expression probably seems to him, but I'm not blind to that.

We've touched into unknown territory before, but never have I felt what I just did moments before. My heart is pounding just thinking about it, though mere moments before I was living it. We've never had a conversation that felt quite like this. I bite my lip and stare straight at him, having no idea what to expect when he looks up, his eyes involuntarily going to my lips and making me realize he's just thought the same thing.

He doesn't even pretend he hasn't noticed either, just sighs. His eyes are back to some point past my head now.

"All right?" I squeak, bracing for I don't know what. "What's that?"

There's a few beats of silence, but it doesn't last long. He clasps his hands in front of him as if to prepare himself, voice unmistakably filled with some kind of nerves.

And if I feel my hands begin to shake, it's only because of the anticipation. There isn't something more going on here. I couldn't handle being wrong.

"If... someone were to ask you about who we were," he begins, "and I wasn't there to listen, how would you explain what this is?"

I hold my breath and stare at him, trying to connect these words back to his mouth. Trying to comprehend how he's referencing our friendship. Because that's what he means, isn't it?

I watch him turn his head so I can read his face, maybe concerned slightly by the silence. I can tell it's a bit of an effort to keep looking at me, so scared that I'll take it the wrong way. His eyes are gentle but his posture is tense, leaving it up to me to figure exactly what's going on.

"What what is?" I get out. "Me introducing you to people?"

These years have always been about him, I, and eventually Cat. I was the one who did the talking so he didn't have to, that's how our relationship has always been. I'm not an idiot, I know that's not what he's asking. But I can't make myself say it.

"No- I mean-" he throws up his hands helplessly, like he's seeking an answer from the sky. "What are we?" He asks abruptly, looking anywhere but in my eyes when he does.

The question catches me off guard and I don't even have time to stare at him in shock, his eyes are already looking at me with such an intensity I don't know what to do in the face of it. This is Dan who has never been partial to labels. This is Dan fixed on me suddenly because he can't do anything else. This is Dan, asking me what we are, which has very few connotations.

The suggestion that he'd had a question for me had made my heart drop, and that was before I'd heard the question itself. Of all the things I'd been expecting to hear, never in a hundred years would I have guessed this was it. This is the exact opposite of what I'd been expecting , it seems his mind is moving in a whole other direction. How often that seems to be happening.

"What?" I manage to sputter out.

It seems like all I can ask lately. What? What are you on about? Can you say that again? Nothing Dan does is predictable anymore, I can't anticipate his emotions or assume he's going to say something, not when every word he says seems to host the potential for multiple meanings.

"You know what I mean." He shifts from foot to foot awkwardly, giving me time to ponder while he avoids my gaze. All at once, it suddenly makes sense.

And I do. Or I think I do, but I can't stand to think that I could be wrong. I've had no time to prepare for this, and consequently have no idea how to respond.

"No, I don't." Yes you do.

It can't be.

"I... people constantly asking questions," he mumbles. Seems I'm not the only one having trouble facing this head on. "We're always holding hands. Always keeping myself inches away from you, never going further, we both know that whatever the hell this is, it's not exactly normal."

It's finally out there. He's seeing exactly what's going on, he knows that it's reciprocal. I'm pretty sure I know what he means.

"Wait- keeping yourself away from me?" I repeat, sure my heart has forgotten how to beat.

His eyes widen. "No. That's... not what I said."

I don't know what it is about his tone but for whatever reason it irks me, resentment building in my heart at the thought of what it sounds like he's saying, an almost definite contrast to what he actually means, I'm sure. Not to mention the instant denial, when his words were as clear he could get them.

I raise my eyebrows. "Isn't it?"

He narrows his eyes, folding his arms stubbornly. "No."

A memory from last night rears up, one of him in my arms so sleep-muddled his thoughts were barely coherent, though they probably felt like they made sense at this time.

What if I kissed you? He'd asked me. I almost want to throw it in his face, ask him the question to see what he'd do when faced with the same thing directed at him while he's awake.

I cross my arms, scuffing at the dirt with my toe. "What kind of a question is that then?" I protest. "What do you mean, what are we?"

"What-" he hesitates, the vulnerability in his eyes revealing how unplanned and on the spot this moment is. Apparently he'd been counting on the notion that I'd get it, now faced with the task of having to explain. Clearly it's not going well, he looks frantic. "Like what do you consider us to be in this place in our life?" He clarifies. "There's something wrong with what's happening, don't you see how different we are from the others with their friends?"

"Something wrong?" I laugh humourlessly, a knife stabbing into my heart upon hearing the truth of what he actually feels. Everything the previous moments had built up to crashes around me, making me realize he doesn't like what may or may not be between us, rather he wishes he didn't exist. And that is a rude awakening. That's a truth I didn't expect, one I'm not even going to pretend to agree with.

"I'm glad you think that's an issue." I blurt before I can stop myself, tears stinging my eyes before I even realize they're there. "I really didn't mind that we were different."

"I never said you had to." He retorts. It rubs me the wrong way.

I look him in the eye, and I can see how much of a struggle it is for him to keep the contact. His gaze flits away only to try and firmly stay fixed, making me aware of how we've touched on the real issue.

I look at him but he's still stubbornly looking away, only making me more nervous. "I wasn't saying that you did."

"Fine." He says flatly. "You sound like you mind."

He doesn't see it on my face, but that hurts. His annoyed tone and the implication behind it, scolding me for seeing more out of this when he's trying things too, making me feel special and cared about only to throw it back in my face when my hope for something else springs up. He's scared, he's indecisive.

He doesn't want to tell the truth.

"I didn't think it bothered you." I say weakly. "I thought we talked about it in the old apartment, how we could say or do whatever we wanted and the bullshit implications were fine because what they all said didn't matter."

"Well I-" he looks at me helplessly but I stare him down, determined to finally get a straightforward answer for once. "I stand by that. It doesn't matter. I don't have to like it."

"You don't have to like it but you could tell me why the hell you're so hell-bent on worrying about this." I argue. "You realize I'm part of this too right?"

"Of course I do!" He snaps. "What's the big deal? You don't like any kind of intimate contact if it's not explained to everyone in some logical way?"

"You're the one who decided there needed to be a reason." I remind him. "I'm perfectly fine to sleep in the same bed as you and explain it later. It doesn't mean anything. I keep making excuses for us because there's nothing more to it."

He looks at me darkly, making my thoughts halt in an instant.

"Well what if I don't want to be like that anymore?"

Hurt. Betrayed. That's how I feel at the question. The silence settles heavily over both of us and I'm not even hiding the way my mouth has gone slack, staring it him while the pain of the last few days- months, more like- weighs on my mind.

"I'll stay away from you." I say hollowly. "That's what you want."

"No, it's not." He argues, like my confusion offends him. "You're literally the smartest man I know. I don't believe that you believe that. I know you know what I mean even if you don't want to say it out loud."

"Even if I-" my eyes widen and I can see the regret in his face, the way he turns his body so that it's faced away from me for a moment, a distance barrier atop of a verbal one.

So that's what he means.

"We're friends." He says decidedly, like the missing part of the formula that I didn't need. It hits hard, the small wink of hope in my chest sputtering out and leaving a surprisingly bitter resentment behind. I don't know what I'd been expecting, but as the words leave his mouth, I realize that's not what I wanted for an answer. Not after last night, I refuse to believe he thinks absolutely nothing when it comes to us.

He scuffs his shoe impatiently when I don't answer, making me realize he knows what a bullshit proposition this is.

"That right?" He prods me, provoking my silent form. "Best friends?"

It comes out as a question. I immediately turn to look at him, raising my eyebrows to show just how ludicrous he's being. Last night made me think things were much more than he'd imagined, apparently.

"Yes, best friends." I say darkly.

Right. Because it's normal to be in love with your best friend and to want to kiss him, it's normal to hold his hand and feel overwhelming emotion when he holds it back. It's normal that I want to cry right now because we're just best friends. There's nothing more to that at all. He doesn't feel any of that?

The bite in my tone isn't missed and this time he does look up, expression genuinely and appropriately shocked. He looks apologetic then, eyes going all round and anxious.

"Okay, look." He tries again. "I'm terrible at expressing myself. You know that."

I feel guilty then. It's not that I want to upset him, I'm just confused.

"You're not." I say, hoping we can at least discuss this cautiously. "You just have a tendency to ramble when you're nervous."

He shakes his head. "I'm not nervous, not really."

"You are."

"You know me well." He says flatly, like it's a bad thing. At least he's not denying it, keeping some honesty in this conversation.

This isn't right. We shouldn't be talking to each other like this but we are, something bigger than both of us setting this in motion.

"You think there's something between us that you don't want to talk about." I finally say, getting it out there in a matter of words. A risky guess.

It should be terrifying to say that but I just feel numb, resentment burning when he barely raises his eyebrows like it isn't the most difficult thing I've ever admitted.

"Ooh, someone got there in the end." He exclaims dramatically. My heart drops and he rolls his eyes, kicking a scrap rather harshly and flushing at the pavement as he jams his hands into his pockets. "It's in the air now, folks. Glad we got that cleared up."

A wave of nausea rises over me suddenly, stomach near sick at the thought of being right. Thinking after all this time that this is all Dan sees me as, somehow it doesn't feel like enough for him to say it so matter of factly that it's there and he can see it, like he's known all along.

And I don't know where Phil goes. The calm, cheery person that always gave Dan a second chance, with one series of words I'm no longer the one who brushes everything off with words of encouragement. I guess it's come to a point where I don't want to be like that anymore. It all builds up in an instant, and I realize suddenly how angry I am at him, for blaming me like this when he couldn't even get up the decency to tell me.

The frustration builds in a dangerous way, burning and spitting while a crease appears between Dan's eyebrows at the change in my expression. I completely ignore that though, just aching to scream in frustration.

I don't want to brush this off. I don't want my mind to be riddled with so much confusion I can hardly stand it, because Dan thinks we're only fucking  friends after all of this. It's not fair that I have to feel so much while he feels nothing, to the point where he thinks it's okay to just openly shut me down and then blame me for being hurt by it. Enough.

"Did we?!" I blurt before I can stop myself. He freezes immediately, stopping in his tracks as my voice suddenly pitches. I wonder if I might cry. Promptly refuse to do so. "Did we? You don't exactly look thrilled about the resolution."

He stares at me in absolute shock, and for about three seconds there's no movement, something like hurt flickering across his features.

I can hear my heartbeat in my ears.

"I'm not." He argues.

"Yeah, I got that far myself." I retort. "So why did you say so?"

He seems to realize his mistake as I say that, scrambling to get past the fact that he's admitted to bluffing.

"You can't just say that. It's not that simple." He mumbles, stunned by the tone of my voice.

I don't want to fight with him. I don't want to make a mistake. But everything's up in the air now, now we both know something the other person doesn't.

"No. No, it wouldn't be. Nothing is simple with you." I spit, venting my frustrations. And suddenly I'm moving in closer, facing right in front of him with my hands clenched at my sides because I'm just so frustrated. "I don't know what's wrong with me, Dan." I snap. And now he's shaking his head, but I ignore it. "I don't know why you'd think I don't understand. You know how I feel about you friend-wise. You mean the world to me. I don't know what I'm doing that's not enough for you."

"You are enough." He says softly. "Of course you're enough."

"But-" I protest, but I don't know what to ask exactly, looking at him and aching to hold him.

"But what?!" He exclaims. His eyes are wide like I've said something impossible, like this is a script from his theatre days that I'm not adhering to. "Isn't that what you wanted to hear? That you're my best friend?"

"It's not about what I want to hear, it's about the truth." I insist. "I feel like I've done something wrong."

"Not seriously." He jokes weakly. I don't laugh. I want to be taken seriously, because this is probably the most serious we've ever been.

"That is what you wanted to hear." He protests. "We wanted to be able to be ourselves in front of them. Don't you want us to be seen as best friends?"

"I don't know!" I blurt. "Yes?"

"Best friends. That's it."

"Yes."

"Could you look me in the eye and say that?" He asks challengingly.

My mouth almost drops. Does he know? Is he messing with my mind and enjoying it?

"Can you?" I reply.

I can't tell the truth. I'm afraid of my own answer. I bite my lip, hesitating as I look at his shocked face and he glares at me, the look so cold I feel like I've touched on something that should have been left alone.

He looks so furious, eyes blazing and body tensing like it's his father from the normal days looking back at him, hard and brazen and so devoid of all things warm and vibrant that make up Dan, until all of a sudden, like a gust of wind over an open flame- the expression is gone and it's like he's looking at Phil again, the fire extinguished.

His forehead creases, eyes conflicted as his mouth opens. And he looks right at me.

"No."

I'm on the edge of a cliff, stumbling so suddenly I'm thrown forward toward the dizzying drop, my stomach swooping terrifyingly and wind tearing at my clothes. His words rush over me and knock the air from my lungs, revelation hitting me hard as tears brim in his eyes but he refuses to look away.

"No." I get out. "You can't just say that."

"Why not?"

"You don't just get to to be cryptic like that."

"Cryptic like what?"

"You're not being fair." I stammer. "I know you. You're talking in circles."

"You don't know what's wrong though." He stammers.

And for the second time I feel the hot anger. That isn't enough. It's an excuse and he knows it.

I throw my hands to the side. "Well I would if you'd tell me!" I've never felt so much like I was walking on eggshells as I do now, the absolute terror at reading this wrong and possibly changing everything.

"I will!" He cries, speaking over me immediately. Quiet voice gone, this is the familiar Dan. "I said I would, I promised I would!"

"When?!" I shout. "Because it seems like a big fucking deal to you, if you're sitting here questioning our relationship after we've been friends this long."

"I'm not questioning-"

"Well what are you doing then?" My shoulders are heaving, stress is coiled in my chest.

"We've been through a lot in the last few days." He says rapidly. "And I know you're stressed but please listen-"

"Why don't you listen to me?!" I protest. "I have no idea what's going on."

"What are you accusing me of?" His eyes are wide and it hits me that he's fighting every fear he's ever had internally, every part of his life that told him who he loved and what he felt was wrong, to the point where he's trapped in his own denial.

"I'm not accusing you of anything!" I retort. "Why don't you stop hiding all the time. Stop pretending that who you are doesn't exist, because it's getting old really fast and I'm tired of this."

He curls his fingers into fists and his lip trembles, torn between anger and hurt at me. "I'm scared, okay?!"

"Scared of what?!" I protest. "Our friendship?"

His cheeks flush red and he stares at me wide-eyed, glaring.

"This has nothing to do with friendship." He says harshly. His tone is so dark it stops me short, hearing his voice wavering as if he's going to cry. He looks up at me with an expression I've never seen, burning into my skin with piercing eyes. "Did you even listen to what I was saying? Connect the goddamn dots, Phil!"

I flinch, eyes widening as he snaps at me, emotion rising in both my chest and his words.

He crosses his arms, looking at me heavily. "I feel like you're not even trying."

Silence, absolute silence settles between us. We've never genuinely fought before, not in all the time I've known him. Sure he's erupted and refused to speak to me before out of stress but now we're hurling actual cutting words at each other. For the first time ever, it's not a good thing that we know each other so well. Because he knows that hurts, I can see it in the look on his face.

He backs up and his back hits the shed, but rather than snapping to the side and moving elsewhere he slumps against it, sliding to the ground and hugging his knees to his chest. Again he's looking small and vulnerable. Again there's that impossible tug in the pit of my chest. If I wasn't so tired I'd be lurching right over to him, hugging him to me and kissing his forehead till he smiled again. But I'm rooted to the spot.

"What?!" I hiss lowly. He doesn't answer, he doesn't even look at me.

It's like time has frozen. We can't move forward and we can't go back, we're trapped in this standstill, regretting telling the truth which did hurt after all.

I don't relent. "What?!"

He presses a hand to his temple and gasps out a breath, the stressed expression breaking over his face and creasing everything, all the things I find beautiful being angrily marred.

"Fuck." He curses. "God- I'm sorry, Phil. I didn't mean that."

I watch as his face crumples and he tries unsuccessfully to conceal it, no tears falling from his eyes but head in his hands all the same. And it makes my heart hurt.

"What did you just say to me?" I croak weakly. "What do you mean I'm not trying?!"

I've tried harder to understand this than I have anything else in my life. I want to stop him from even attempting to think I'd do otherwise, but now he can't take that back.

He covers his mouth, reaching for my arm from where he's sitting, flinching when I yank it back. I don't know what's come over me. I can't stand to have him touching me. Not when he doesn't want me. It's bitter and it's selfish but I don't care, I want him and I can't just change that.

"I didn't mean it." He pleads desperately. "Phil, I swear I didn't."

A heavy weight sits in my chest and I draw my hand to my chest, never breaking the contact I have with his eyes.

"You didn't." I state. "Okay."

"I'm sorry. You have all the right to react that way." He croaks. He looks up at me weakly, still pathetically holding out his hand, and despite my better judgement I take it this time. I don't hold on overly tightly, though his soft, smooth fingers cling to me like I'm his last tie to life. It goes straight to my heart. My poor, stupid, battered heart.

"Connect the dots." I repeat. "So you think I'm missing something."

He shakes his head and his look is pleading with me to forget it, but now the words are branded into my brain.

"You don't know what I mean, so it sounds awful. It's not, okay?"

There's a hope in me. A stupid, stubborn, desperate hope. A need for him to see this the same way I do.

"There's no way for me to." I reply coldly. "I'm not you."

"I don't know how you stand me honestly." He breathes. "Everything must seem so confusing and stupid."

I shrug. "I mean yeah, that's one way of putting it."

"Even you think so."

"I'd never lie to you, Dan." I remind him. "You won't always like what I have to say, though."

He uses my hand to pull himself back up to a standing position, moving forward to wrap his arms around me but I stop him, putting a hand on his chest and seeing his arms drop down limply to his side. We're never going to solve this if we hide behind walls of gentleness. Some things can't be avoided, they need to be addressed head on.

"You're telling me that I'm missing something." I point out. I cross my arms firmly and shoot him a pointed look, seeing his composure falter. "If that's the case, enlighten me."

"I'm a coward, Phil!" He cries suddenly, looking far too angry for someone who can't even meet my eyes. It stops me in my tracks because he isn't even feigning composure, I'm getting to see what he really feels and now though I'd been burning to see it before, I'm not sure if I'm ready for it now. "I'm afraid of losing the only person I care about in my life. I don't think you even get how scared I am of fucking this up. I don't know what to- to do. To say. I don't know Phil."

"Okay." I get out. "I... You're not lying now, right?"

He shakes his head, and now he looks transfixed by my eyes. "You're the one friend I can count on." He says angrily. "The only thing that matters to me in the world. You think I'd just let you go?"

"Well no, but-"

"We don't even have Cat anymore." He chokes, voice breaking at the end. "It's just you and I like when it all began."

My expression falters and I takes a sharp breath in as I feel that punch in my chest, expression pained.

"But... it's not like 2009, Phil." He whispers. It makes my dream flash across my mind, my chest folding in on itself at the raw memories rushing in. "We aren't the same people. I can't pretend I'm anything like that Dan anymore really. I kept the worst parts, the anger and the spiral of lies and the inability to tell you anything outright."

"We're not entirely different." I reply, my voice flat. "We still know how to twist the truth."

His eyebrows go up incredulously and I know I've crossed a line, but in the heat of the moment, I don't care.

"Okay, well you obviously don't like the answer I gave before," he interrupts, glaring at me and crossing his arms tight across his chest. "So how about I ask you this." He raises his eyebrows decisively and I feel like I'm under a spotlight, the words he ends up saying ones I'm not prepared for. "What am I... to you?"

What kind of question is he even asking me? It's a clever move, turning the tables. It shifts the responsibility from him onto me.

"I don't know what you are anymore!" I scream, already conveying sheer hatred in my voice. I'm tired. I'm so, so tired. "Do you even realize what you're asking me?"

He looks calm. Too calm. This situation should have him reduced and cutting like I feel, that's the Dan I know. He shouldn't look like he has one above me. It's not fair. And that's before he answers. The distance between us is simultaneously too small and too big, words on a wire while we balance, trying not to crash into each other.

"I know exactly what I'm asking you." He answers.

A leaden weight slams directly into my heart.

"Are you sure about that?"

"I'm your best friend. I know that much."

I shake my head. "I think you know it's more than that."

He stares at me solemnly, but doesn't deny it. "Oh, well what am I, then?"

"You're infuriating." I snap. "That's what you are. You're infuriating and I just don't understand!"

That finally seems to be one step too far, He backs up instantly, face creasing like he's folding in on himself.

"Then why the hell do you stay with me?!" He yells back, expression hurt like he's withering. I stare at him, incredulous.

He's so dense. So incredibly, agonizingly dense. I hate him. I want to lurch forward and punch him, pull him up by his collar and kiss him, run a hundred miles away from him.

"Are you kidding me?" I breathe. "Do you really have no idea? You can't even take a guess at why I'm upset?"

"I don't know Phil." He snaps. "I really don't. I have no idea. You need to tell me because I don't know at all."

"I just-" I clench my fists and step indecisively, ending up right back where I started out of frustration. "I can't do this right now. We can't talk about this. I need to go-"

"Just leave me." He orders. "Get out of here."

"And why would I do that?"

"You don't have to stay with me. I know I'm just a burden to you. I've made your life hell because of my blood immunity. I know we're best friends but you should just leave me. Don't do this fight. It's better for both of us."

As if I would ever even consider believing he means that.

I cross my arms. "I'm not going to."

"Well you should."

I raise my voice. "Well I'm not!"

"Why?!" He shouts, fist colliding with the sheet metal on the shed behind him. "I don't deserve this! You don't need someone putting your life at risk all the time, constantly under bullets and trying to hold your hand when all I do is hurt you or get you hurt. I'm so fucking done with watching you suffer because of me and I'm tired of pretending that I'm not allowed to care." His voice is bordering on hysterical and as he steps towards me I have to lurch back with wide eyes at the sheer pain in his expression, totally convinced that he's that selfish. It's everything he's ever thought internally suddenly spilling out in a rush, and I hate it.

"Why the hell do you keep me around when I've been nothing but awful since the moment we met? I can't even tell you one secret and you're still looking at me, waiting for a bunch of honesty that I can't give to you because I'm weak and useless and I just-"

"Stop."

"-I can't do anything but screw this all up. I care about you so much it hurts and I never say anything and now I'm letting you go off and-"

"Shut up." I gasp. He does, so abruptly I barely have time to register that I've snapped at him.

Stony silence hangs between us and he stares at me, looking pained.

"Why do you still care about me?" He asks weakly, and that's what sets me off.

"Do you think I shouldn't?" I snap, throwing my arms out angrily.

"Why should you?!" He retaliates.

Enough. I yank away my hand, pushing him so that he's no longer touching me. His back hits the wall but he doesn't even care, just stares at me wide-eyed as tears spark in my eyes and the urge to scream surges out.

"Because I'm in love with you, goddammit!" I yell, voice echoing in the empty air.

The words have barely left me before my mind catches up to my mouth and my eyes widen, my heart stopping in my chest.

Whatever he's about to say in retort is cut off immediately, his mouth falling open and his breaths replaced with silence. I don't know if it's my mind playing tricks on me or a physical reaction but I swear, I can hear each individual pounding beat of my heart.

I stumble back, my breaths far too fast and my gaze frozen on him; on Dan, who I love. He gapes at me. And no one says a word.

"Phil-" he stammers suddenly, and panic surges through my mind at once.

"I'm in love with you." I mumble. Immediately I'm backing up. I can't look at him, I can't see his face. It's bad enough that I've told him but now I've said it twice, driven the nail in as if everything hadn't already been splintered.

Get away. Get away. Don't do this to him.

"Wait!" He shouts, and I can hear him standing up.

God, he's going to make me look at him, ask me questions because he's probably confused as hell but I can't do it. Panic surges through me and I break forward to slam my hands into the rusted gate, swinging it open and bolting away. It gives in moments, scraping against my skin but I don't even care.

I can hear him following behind me and if it weren't for the situation I might've laughed at the amount of effort he's putting into it, probably more exercise than he's ever done in his life by the way he's running hard and yelling at me.

"Phil!"

He's catching up and anxiety surges in my chest. I pick up a piece of scrap and hurl it at him, screaming.

"Get away from me!" I gasp. The object bounces off his chest, stopping him in his tracks.

"Please!"

"Leave me alone!" I gasp out, hating the fear in his eyes and feeling the raw terror clawing up in my chest. I can't do this. I can't face it.

"No you don't understand." He protests. "I-"

"I don't want to talk to you!" I scream. "Get away from me!"

I don't even wait for his response, pushing him back and then running away.

I'm running from him and I end up swerving behind a junk pile because then ahead of me I can't see anything but my friends. They don't even notice that I've entered though they do turn when they hear Dan shouting, but I've lost him and at the moment that's all I care about. I've lost him in more than one way, honestly. There's no going back tonight.

I push aside an errant crate in my way and collapse behind and upturned rusted refrigerator. Behind me is a mountain of junk rising up on three sides, curving around me and hiding me from view. My back hits the cold curved side of the fridge and a harsh breath leaves me in a rush. Dan is frantic, calling my name. But finally, finally, I'm safely out of the way.

I've only just managed to press my hand to my face before the tears start falling, a broken sound shuddering out of me as I sink to the ground.

I clap my hand over my mouth to muffle the sound of the tears but they streak down my face anyways, my body curling in on itself as I'm riddled with shudders, terrified and nowhere to go.

There are sparks, burning underneath my skin and surging through my heart in a white-hot, spiralling stream. They burn me up in a whirlwind that I'm caught in with no way of escaping, hurting so much more than love should ever be able to. Dan is still yelling for me, All regard for confeds nearby gone as he tries frantically to find me, but I'm rooted to the spot, shudders riddling my body.

God. Now I've done it. A sob leaves my lips and the moment replays in my head like a bad looping movie, far too vivid with Dan's widening eyes still in my vision and my heartbeat as the soundtrack. My eyes squeeze shut, pain building in my chest as I try not to scream, biting my lip so hard I draw blood.

I've gone and ruined everything and now I have nowhere to go, tears rolling down my cheeks so heavily I can't even wipe them away with my hand.

Eyes wide. Pounding heart. I'm going to go mad.

He knows. That thought races through my mind, loops a thousand agonizing times. He fucking knows because I told him. It happened just like that, with no gentle words or warning.  How can I ever go back to him? How can I survive with this knowledge that his life is in danger, that the boy I love has to know this for the rest of time? It's not like I can take it back, not when I've gone and said it as clearly as I possibly could.

Most of the time it's better to remain in a fantasy world. To stay in a dream from which I'll never wake up. I've done it from time to time, sunken into daydream to avoid facing the reality, but I can't avoid this.

What have I done?

Maybe it's pathetic to hide instead of facing it. Maybe I can never leave here, but I can't stand the thought of leaving him forever. I'm caught in limbo, and the more afraid Dan starts to sound, the worse I feel. I don't care about being brave right now. I don't care about anything.

I cry until my throat feels raw and then when I'm out of tears to spend I just stare at my feet numbly, trying to make my mind go blank and refusing to think about it. I listen to Dan's frantic voice and the low rising and falling of my own breathing.

Until suddenly, as my heart rate slows down slightly, I realize I can't hear Dan anymore.

There's voices, but I don't know what they're talking about. I just manage to make out Mark's voice, speaking to someone else, when a hand suddenly grabs my wrist from behind.

My heart skips a beat and I whip around, terrified that Dan's found me. I snap my gaze up to look at him, mouth open intent on yelling at him to get away because I can't face this yet, but when I focus, it's not Dan whose eyes I'm looking into.

Instead of brown curls, I see ragged white. The skin is ice cold and blueish, squeezing my wrist so tightly it hurts.

He smirks when he sees me. Instead of warm eyes, I see silver.

"Surprise." A deep voice chuckles.

It's the grinning face of a half-life man, his arm snapping out immediately to slap a hand over my mouth before I can scream.

~~~

Dan

My mind is racing. My heart is beating way too fast.

And I can't find Phil.

I don't even stop to answer Felix when he yells over at me, asking me what I'm doing. I'm not even thinking, not really. My eyes rake the piles of junk, many of them towering taller than I am. Phil could be anywhere, and I'm terrified. How could I have let us be separated?

I'm still so angry, but not for the same reasons I'd been mere minutes ago. I'm angry at myself for being blind, for yelling at him, for thinking he would never care about me the way I cared about him to the point where I'd let fear get the best of me and this was the result, absolute terror. I'm angry because I don't know what else to do, calling his name frantically when I know he's trying to hide from me.

I can tell Mark knows something's wrong by the look in my eyes. My hands are shaking and all I can think about is Phil. Phil, who must be terrified. Phil, who is in so much danger right now because he's alone and isn't thinking rationally. Phil, who I can never see the same.

Because he loves me.

It doesn't feel real. My chest is a firestorm, heart racing almost as much as my mind and my eyes and hands, throwing aside objects that are piled in my way and trying to call his name.

I barely had time to see which way he ran. All of theses scrap piles look the same, all I can remember is that he pushed me and then disappeared to the right. I suppose I should be proud of him for hiding so well, having never known he had such a talent. I guess I'm angry because he's hidden so well too. I actually can't find him, and now our friends are wandering over to see what's going on.

I don't know how it's possible. I'd been thinking this entire time that I needed to just ignore it all, to pretend I was content with being friends with Phil because that was what he's always wanted. It had never crossed my mind that I could dare dream it was reciprocal, because Phil has a less-known talent for keeping a straight face when he needs to. He's hidden it well. We both have, I guess.

He isn't answering me.

I'm desperate to find him, to tell him the truth and set this all straight once and for all. It's my fault that we're in this mess and this time it's up to me to get us out. I know he's not going to stay gone forever but he's probably scared out of his right mind right now, and that alone keeps me going the most.

He probably doesn't want to see me right now. The thought makes my heart hurt.

I'm going to kill you, Phil Lester. I think harshly. I'm going to kill you, and then I'm going to bring you back and kiss you until you believe me.

I peer around another large pile and nearly scream in frustration when he isn't there, a gasp leaving my lips as my eyes begin to burn.

"Dan." Chris says behind me, touching my arm and turning me around to reveal the concern in his expression. He's come over to me, Mark and Felix have followed behind him and are looking at me too, worried expressions mirroring each other exactly. I barely even focus on Chris's face, hearing his words but not really understanding them.

"What happened?" He asks me worriedly. "Where's Phil?"

I look at him blankly before the words actually sink in. A lump forms in my throat and I find it in me to glare, clenching my fist so that dull nails dig into the skin. I mean to retort something harsh at him, to channel my anger, but that's not what ends up happening at all.

"I don't know." I gasp. Tears spring to my eyes before I can stop them and I panic, not wanting them to fall in front of them but unable to stop them. "I can't find him."

Mark's face falls. "Oh shit." Whatever they've been looking at its forgotten as they all pull out their weapons, eyes casting around and only scaring me further.

"Where did he run to?" Felix asks hurriedly. "He can't be alone. We don't know who's here or there's still monsters."

"Where did he go?" Chris adds.

"All I know is that he went to the right." I say, my voice controlled so I'm not showing anything but urgency. I hate that I sound so calm. I hate it because I want to yank Chris forward by his shirt and demand he find him, make him bring Phil back to me because I'm about to go mad.

"Chris, you can sense him." Felix points out. "Compare him to Dan and see where he is before he hurts himself, I think we should get out of here and make another plan."

Chris nods rapidly and steps closer to my side, gesturing for the other two to join him and keep their weapons drawn.

"I'm going to try and detect his blood now but I'm not Cat, so it might take a moment." He warns me. "It would help of I'd spent more time around you guys but that can't be helped, I'm working with what I've got. Nobody move for a minute."

I realize vaguely as I see Chris's expression change to concentration that I've actually never seen a half-life sense someone before. It's nothing like I've imagined, though it's not dramatic. His face creases and he takes a deep breath, shoulders flexing with the inhale and relaxing in the exhale, and nobody dares to move.

I see his expression go from distraction to a frown, his face creases with confusion suddenly as he frowns and opens his eyes.

"Wait." he mumbles. "What the..."

"What's going on?" Mark asks.

Chris looks as if he's gone into a daze until, very suddenly, his eyes snap open.

"Shit." He snaps. My eyes widen and he whips out his knife and points it at the area ahead of us, eyes coming alive suddenly with an expression of terror.

"Chris." Felix asks worriedly, curling his fingers around his own knife as I start to panic. "What are d-"

"Get out your weapons." Chris snaps suddenly. "There's zombies fucking everywhere, and they're all moving this way."

My heart drops in my chest and my head snaps towards the seemingly empty junkyard in panic, crowbar gripped so hard my knuckles are turning white.

"Phil." I gasp. "Where the hell is Ph-"

We're standing back to back and I've just begun to panic when a man steps out from the shadows, and all my thoughts suddenly slam to a halt.

His jacket is black with the same material and symbol he'd worn on the day we'd first met him. He meets my eyes and looks far too pleased, tilting the gun ever so slightly so it's aimed right at my heart.

"Well, I'm glad you've made it." He says with a raised eyebrow, crossing his arms with a deadly calm expression. My heart drops and I feel it build up in an instant, working its way up to the horror on my face. "I mean, I figured you would since I have something you want, but there was always that off-chance you'd you know- be safe and stay hidden."

My mouth goes dry and I see him raise a silver gun in our direction, eyes hard and burning with an expression far too pleased.

Wirrow.

There's no guards on either side of him this time, no deceits or illusions of a good person to hide behind. He's here with one purpose, his eyes right on me.

"I'll get right down to business. You're not going to make it out of this junkyard." He says simply. His voice sounds far too eager, as if he's truly preparing to have some fun. "As Chris so eloquently pointed out, we are completely surrounded right now. In a matter of minutes you're going to be meeting my newest creations, and I'll have fun watching your friends die."

Mark steps in front of me and holds up his knife, his gun still tucked in his back pocket in case of emergency. His chest is heaving with anger, reminding me what this man has done to all of us.

"Why don't you come over here and fight us yourself?!" He screams, clenching his fists and shaking with rage. "Why don't you try doing something, instead of sending all your undead cronies all the time?!"

"Well," Wirrow points out, sounding almost bored by the suggestion, "I am here, aren't I? Terribly risky business, considering how many people are planning to storm our base tonight."

I don't know how he knows. Don't even know why or frankly care. For all I know there could be a traitor amongst us but at this point I don't even care, I just stare at him fearfully, the full impact of his intentions becoming clear. We all knew there was a certain level of risk in attacking an all-knowing government, it's his intent here that has my chest constricted.

"You aren't planning to stay, are you?" I realize. He smirks at me, almost approving that someone's caught on.

"You weren't fooled at all, were you?" He exclaims. He looks proud in a mocking, condescending way, grinning at me with a smile that doesn't touch his eyes. "I have a good insider on you both, though I am impressed by your optimism to think you could ever outsmart the confederation."

Both of us.

"You're a horrible person, you know that?" Chris spits. "You're the reason thousands of people are dead. You haven't changed the world, you've killed it. You're not about to get what you want from us by holding a death threat over our heads."

Wirrow looks at him and shrugs, twirling his gun between his fingers. I realize I can hear groans in the distance now, much closer than before. They're coming from ahead, a dozen monsters at least.

"I think I understand much more about the state of the world than you do." Wirrow replies coolly. He raises his eyebrows and keeps his hold on my eyes even as I glare back. "And being responsible for deaths? I'm sure Dan knows that feeling all too well, don't you?"

My eyes widen. I feel the guilt slam into me and the air knocked from my lungs, the horrific truth cutting through me like a knife.

Marzia. Dil. Cat. All those people at the camp.

"Don't listen to him." Mark snaps at me. "Dan, he's manipulating you."

I bite my lip hard and try to keep my breathing level, white-hot hate for the man threatening us burning low in my belly.

"What do you want?" I spit. "Might as well say it now, if you don't even have the gall to fight us."

Wirrow rolls his eyes, sighing dramatically.

"Think of tonight as a warning." He states, lowering his gun and tucking it back into his holster. He looks me in the eye and I see the unmistakable threat in the dark eyes. "I'm just here to talk tonight, my monsters will do the rest. After tonight you will hand yourself over to the confederation, Dan Howell. I tried to tell you before that if you defied us you would lose everything, but now you're going to see that we truly follow through. I'm going to be sending in my monsters to show you what we can do to those that escape, so that next time you'll be more compliant."

The horrific implications are apparent instantly, the lives of my friends suddenly balanced on the cusp of nothing, a delighted expression on Wirrow's face when he sees I've gotten it.

"We can take your monsters." Chris replies evenly, unwaveringly calm somehow in the face of his old captor, the literal leader of the confederation movement. "You're a coward for not taking us. We've fought zombies before."

"Oh, these are no ordinary zombies." Wirrow exclaims. A monster lurches into view from a distance away and he turns to gesture to it, immediately evident that the creature is far too tall and built to be previously human. It's pale and muscular, mouth. bloodstained and head turned our way. "The bite is the best part of them. There's no fun and games when it comes to these guys. You get a bite from them, and you're dead, my friends. Instantly. Dan's immunity can save him but he can't save anyone else, so I do hope you die valiantly, so he at least gets a show."

"You can't do this." I say darkly. "You'll never get what you want from me. I'll take all those monsters if I have to."

"Oh, I'm sure you miss your dad, Dan." He exclaims boredly. "So turn yourself in soon, hm? There'll be a lot of trouble if you don't."

My heart jolts in my chest and I feel my knees go weak, seeing him smirk at the response he'd probably hoped for.

"I'm not here to fight you." He says. "I'll be coming to find you another another night, but today..." he looks right into my eyes, raising his eyebrows in a very direct, knowing look. "...That's not my intent."

My heart drops in my chest. It's the way he's looking at me. Without even threatening me, without the words to accompany it suddenly, with that look alone, I know what he means.

Phil.

He nods as if in approval of my thoughts. Behind him, I see zombies staggering into view behind the first one. Mark and Felix jump to attention, raising their weapons as if to bar me from harm, while Chris is reaching for me like he knows I'm going to do something stupid.

"Oh-" Wirrow exclaims, sounding almost bored. "Would you look at that. It looks like they need me back home. I'll see you if you're still alive after this. Or not."

He turns with a smirk and steps right into the crowd of summoned zombies, all of them parting around him as if he were nothing more than an obstacle. He shoots a smirk my way and then he's vanished, panic slamming into my heart as immediately monsters rush in.

Everyone's prodding me and shouting, they're all getting ready to fight.

But all I can think about is Phil.

"Oh, and Chris!" He shouts almost as an afterthought, though Chris snaps up as if he's been burnt, his eyes widening. "Blood is rare, and sweet as cherry wine?"

I have no idea what it means. I stare at Chris in confusion, mind only half-focused as I think of my best friend. I have to find him now. There was too much knowing in the expression Wirrow had. A strange look comes over Chris's face. For a moment it's dazed, and then it devolves into panic.

"Get away from me!" He screams abruptly. His face is convulsing as if he's fighting against his own mind, and he stumbles back while the zombies stagger forward. "They can control half-lifes. There's a voice in my head. You need to get away from me- you need to back-"

His voice cuts mid-sentence. Dread slams into me and I see Mark and Felix jerk back in panic, Chris's eyes roll back, and then his glare goes blank. He turns toward us with an emotionless expression, hands raised as if to attack.

I forget how to breathe as his limbs move robotically. He steps towards me, expression slack, a groan emitting from his mouth as he raises his head.

It all makes sense suddenly. We all back away and I want to run away, torn between protecting my friends from the superhuman monsters and finding Phil.

That's how they tracked us. They knew what they were doing when they let him go without any harm or hesitation. He's a weapon with words implanted in his mind like a trigger.

As Chris lurches forward we dive away, back against a crushed car as he slashes at the air where we'd just been standing.

I can see the conflicted looks on my friends faces even as other zombies pick up on our scents and begin to hone in, staring at their friend fearfully.

"Don't kill Chris!" Mark gasps. Whatever you do, don't kill him!"

I raise my crowbar but back up as Mark says, eyes darting between the zombies and our friend's form.

"Hello, Dan." Chris's body says, but it's not his voice that I'm hearing.

I don't even have time to anticipate the motion. The monstrous version of Chris bellows after me and I make a split-second decision; I dart forward to push his body into the junk pile behind him. My foot hits the narrow chest with a hard, solid kick, sending it stumbling into the carnage. It's the best I can do without actually hurting him.

His hand grasps my foot and yanks me down backwards, making me stumble and land flat on my back. The impact hits my shoulder blades first and shoots up my spine, painful and electric all at once.

I've just recovered from the wind being knocked out of me by the impact when the first zombies lurch in, occupying my friends' attention. Chris's body upturns a piece of unrefined wood that crashes down onto my leg, pinning me briefly as I gasp in a breath.

I panic. My ankle screams in protest as I try to yank away and the rough bark grates into my skin, but I twist around until a feeling like fire shoots through my leg and I'm suddenly tugged free. I catch Mark's eyes before he let's go of me, turning around and plunging his knife into a deadly zombie's head.

I gasp at the pain but I'm already stumbling to my feet, fingers curled around the crowbar like it's a grip to reality. There's junk everywhere, piles and piles of confederation discards that rise up all around me, Phil could be anywhere and I have no way of finding him. Chris is already rising up, I'm frozen in fear as the monsters close in.

Felix looks at me out of the corner of his eye, already stepping in front of me to block me from Chris.

"Dan, go find Phil!" He shouts. "We'll be okay- he doesn't know what's happening."

Run.

A burst of adrenaline shoots through me and I turn on my heel, pushing aside one zombie and hearing Chris still following after me in pursuit.

I'm running, eyes on the junk piles again but my heart filled with a much stronger urgency this time. I don't know how I know, there's been no indication other than an empty threat from Wirrow who just wants to manipulate me this time around, but deep down, somehow, I know that Phil is in trouble. I feel like there's a timer ticking after me, grains of sand in an hourglass trickling between my fingers and counting down the seconds before it's too late. Something has happened. He's somewhere nearby, but I don't know where.

Behind me I can hear my friends fighting the horde, human shouts and inhuman roars filling the air as the sound of blades hitting undead bodies fills the night.

I can't see Phil anywhere, panic compressing my chest as I search for something, anything to indicate where he could be. My hands are shaking around my crowbar and I'm gasping for breath, making it hard to focus as I tear apart every bit of junk, every pile looking for anything.

Then, something catches my eye that makes my blood run cold.

An axe, Phil's axe, bloodied and abandoned on the ground.

All rational thought leaves me as my heart drops in my chest.

There's only three things in this world that make me happy... one of them would be you.

I'd said that to Phil once. In a calmer, peaceful time when I'd been bitter, angry at the entire world. I'd thought back then that staying alive was the main objective, that happiness didn't matter much in the face of keeping us together. I guess I'd never realized the full magnitude of what I'd said until much later, when all the confused feelings made sense. That was because of him that they did.

But now I know that he is my happiness. I know I would go to the ends of the earth just for him to be okay. I'd risk pushing through zombies and sharp, twisted scrap, running hard to find him as if my life depended on it because suddenly I know where he is. Phil is a light that never goes out, and as terror surged through me, I realize I quite literally cannot live without him.

All rational thought leaves me after that. I slam my foot into the dirt and run towards the trail the axe has left, just barely stumbling to the edge of it when a cold hand yanks back my arm.

I scream, Chris's fingers crushing my wrist in his grip so tightly it feels like it might bruise. For a moment I forget completely about Mark's plea not to kill him. I think only about how he's keeping me from Phil, swinging the crowbar for his neck and just barely missing it by inches.

The monstrous version of Chris snarls, ducking out of the way of my attack and leaping forward, hands bared for my neck this time instead of to bite me. Panic hits me and I swing again, desperation to reach Phil seizing hold of me. This time, I don't miss.

My crowbar hits him square in the forehead, cracking against his skin, and immediately he stumbles backwards.

He blinks. It takes him a moment to focus but when he sees what he's doing he lurches back and his face falls, absolute horror crossing his features when he realizes what his body has done.

The spell broken, Chris suddenly just looks incredibly dazed, but the fear hasn't gone anywhere as he backs up. His eyes widen and he drops my arm immediately, staring at me wide-eyed and gasping aloud.

"Fuck." He chokes. His eyes are focused again and he looks at me in horror, backing up slowly with his hands in front of him now. "I'm sorry, Dan. I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry-"

I don't even stop to reassure him. A gasp leaves my lips and I push past Chris who seems rooted in place, finally making it to the axe lying partly sunken into the soft dirt and following the trail it's left. I don't want to think about why Phil's axe is abandoned and bloodied. Somehow I know he's alive- I can feel it even though I can't see him. I don't pick up the weapon, I simply pass it. There's a gap by the fence, an arch of trash I didn't notice before that would both conceal a person and allow the, to slip through, and very suddenly- I know where Phil is.

My heart starts to pound again, remembering he's just told me he loved me. That's why he's been hiding this entire time.

A mound of scrap metal. Stumbling to the left. In moments I catch sight of black hair on a slightly concealed head, face turning when I reach out.

Why did I ever let him get away from me? I don't know whether to yell at him or hug him tightly even though there's a battle going on. Already Chris has disappeared back where he came from, his invulnerable body a far better match against these monsters than we are, but somehow Phil is all right, maybe he just dropped his weapon. In any case, he has no idea the battle is going on and I'm never going to let him out of my sight if it kills us both.

I stretch my hand over the debris in my way to clasp the shoulder in sheer relief that he's somehow okay, that Wirrow's threat was empty. He whips around quickly, alarmed by my touch.

It takes me a moment to realize the face I'm seeing isn't Phil.

The head turns and the monstrous figure it belongs to leaps out from behind the shell of a broken down refrigerator, a half-life man enhanced by the virus, bloodied by Phil's axe and very clearly one of the creatures Wirrow sent. It lurches at me so quickly and viciously that I barely have time to scream, the attack coming at impossible speed.

Time slows. I'm frozen in fear, pale, axe-damaged hands lunging for my throat. I don't even have time to think I'm going to die before the man has cleared the distance, teeth bared.

Then there's a painful collision with my shoulder and a body knocking me out of the way, so much force and panic behind the movement that I only have a second to react. My view of the monster is blocked and hands go out to push it away from me, I feel my face go white even as I stumble to the side and they throw their arms forward to stop him.

No.

The monster lets out a sharp screech and I panic, tripping forward onto my feet again and swinging my crowbar down into its head, just as Phil's hands collide with the attacker, its teeth sinking deep into his wrist.

He screams out in pain, blood immediately starting to spurt from the wound as the zombie falls to the ground. The monster lets go and out of the corner of my eye I see Phil stumble, breathing heavily.

For a moment I freeze, throat constricting so that I can barely scream.

This can't be happening.

It's funny how your hope can disappear in an instant.

"Phil-" I gasp. Phil looks up at me with pained eyes, wavering just as the creature staggers up again, blood oozing from its head. My breathing stutters in my throat.

I panic. It lunges at me and then I'm screaming anyway, slamming the weapon into its skull again and again.

The zombie screeches as I hit it over and over, splattering myself with gore. A rotten hand claws the air trying to rake my face but I hit it so harshly it falls back, catching nothing but empty air.

I slam the tip of the crowbar into its body, hitting its soft flesh so hard it collapses instantly, crumpling to the ground. And then I still continue to hit it, screaming in a fit of insanity and destroying the body as much as I can, agonizing pain and terror ripping through my body. I hit it until the damage is irreversible and I'm forced to finally look up at my best friend, a dry sob tearing out of me as I forget my grip on the bar completely, fingers falling slack as he starts gasping.

There's nothing I do can fix this, the destruction is just an illusion.

It's like time has stopped. I have forgotten how to breathe, how to think, I'm but a frozen spectator as I see Phil's face go white, his wide eyes fixed on the bite. The weapon drops out of my hand.

He's breathing far too quickly and gripping his wrist tightly in his hand, the skin already slick with blood that's oozing out between his fingers. I can't tear my horrified gaze away from him, chest folding in on itself as he pales.

"Ah-" he chokes out, the sound riddled with pain. His knees buckle.

I lurch forward just as he coughs harshly and stumbles, fingers grabbing his shoulders and gripping them hard as his head lolls forward and he shudders. His chest is heaving and his eyes are unfocused, eyes squeezed shut in pain as he sways.

"Phil!"

The world is crumbling around me. I've forgotten how to breathe. He isn't focusing on my face.

"Phil." I gasp. "No. Look at me. You're okay. Phil please."

A pained sound escapes him. He's shuddering.

There's no fun and games with these guys. These zombies' bites kill you immediately. Wirrow's words ring in my mind and all of a sudden they do mean something, gasps leaving my mouth as it hits me.

This can't be happening. I've forgotten how to breathe.

He just manages to raise his gaze to me, gasping painfully as his face creases. My heart is falling. I want to scream. All the blood has drained from his face.

"Dan-" he croaks weakly, lifting his eyes to me as if reaching for support as he falls. I stumble forward, a choked sound escaping me as I desperately try to catch him.

Then his eyes roll back and he collapses against me motionless, breathing out with a shudder his last breath of air.

...