Wtf 400 reads? I swear I was just at 250 thank you! :')
I never thought anyone would read this it's crazy

The world's just spinning
A little too fast
If things don't slow down soon
we might not last
-The Head and the Heart, Let's be Still

Phil

The days that follow our return to camp are some of the worst.

Dan barely speaks to me.

It's a long time before I can painlessly move again. The first couple of days especially are bad;  it hurts to walk and it hurts to breathe. I grit my teeth and deal with it though, not wanting to put any other stresses on him. He barely even sleeps, and more often than not I'm terrified because he looks ready to collapse.

It's a burden, having to constantly tend to the gunshot wound in my side. I'm leery of Felix now, so much more than I care to let on. Being shot was an awful way to have my feelings of security shattered; I'm incredibly jumpy at meals and he's shamelessly careful and delicate whenever I'm around. It's clear that he's sorry and ashamed, but it's not an easy thing to do, apologizing for something like that. We've mostly just settled on an unspoken agreement: just pretend it didn't happen. Maintain the silence.

I'd sooner stab the healing wound with a knife. It's impossible.

The silences are painful. Even Cat has given up on trying to break them.

I tried only once to tell Dan he shouldn't be acting like this. I couldn't understand it, how angry he was over what I thought was the only reasonable solution. He shouldn't have been this upset because I won over him in our argument, he's quick to flare up but he was usually (whether he liked to admit it or not) a little more lenient with me. Or so I'd thought. I thought he'd calm down once he saw my reasoning, but he didn't. And when I tried telling him exactly that...it still doesn't ring well in my memories.

It was the day after we returned back to camp. He'd been on watch all night so it was past noon when he finally emerged from his comforter, face exhausted and dark circles under his eyes. In hindsight, maybe talking to him over a meal with all the others around might not have been the best way to go about it. But I was desperate, I'd barely seen him before that time.

"Explain what's going on, Dan." I'd insisted when he tried to brush past me. "You can't just avoid me like this. You're being distant again, if you don't like something about being here, just tell me about it."

This, apparently was not the right thing to say.

"What do you know?!" He shouted at me unexpectedly and I flinched, unused to him speaking to me in such a biting tone. His face was angry and unreadable, giving me no insight into his thoughts at all. "Nothing. Leave me alone!"

All of our friends sitting by the fire turned to stare at us, looking at us like they couldn't believe Dan would ever speak against me. He didn't care, just stared flatly at me.

"You don't even know what you're talking about."

I hoped nobody would say anything to stand up for me. As soon as they did, I knew, he'd be out, I could already see Mark's mind working furiously. Dan had been moving to sit on one of the split logs between us, but it was clear he now had second thoughts.

Then just as I'd been dreading, Cat spoke up, insisting he was being unreasonable. He blanched on her instantly, expression furious as his cheeks reddened in now visible anger.

"You know what?" He hissed in a tremulous voice, "as pleasant as this is, I'd sooner be shot in the foot then stay here with all of you. I shouldn't have even come."

He abruptly whipped around, glaring at me and then stalking off bitterly without even grabbing the food put aside for him. We only watched. Everyone looked at me apologetically and I just lowered my eyes, equal parts angry and sad. I couldn't exactly jump up and go after him, doing so would have sent a shooting pain through my side.

"Dan..." PJ called out cautiously, but I looked up to meet his eyes.

"Don't bother." I told him. "He won't stay if he doesn't want to."

Usually I considered it a good thing that I knew him so well. But at this moment, I wished I didn't. If I didn't, it maybe wouldn't hurt as much knowing I was speaking truthfully. I could go on blind faith, and assume he'd maybe bounce back. But this was Dan, I knew he wouldn't.

There's no longer a place for us to call our home, but at least here at this camp most of us are relatively comfortable. I feel lost without him, even though he's right there. I never thought we'd come to a point where the two of us ended up like this; cold and distant, especially not after losing our friend. Yet here we are. We're both dealing with our own issues.

Marzia's death hangs over all of us, tension thick like fog in the air. In the next week or so none of us talk much or do much of anything. Especially not Felix. He usually stays in bed, blocking out the world angrily with eyes fixed on some point in the distance. I overhear PJ talking to Cat, telling her we'll need to go out for food soon. With three extra mouths it's all running out quickly, even if Felix and Dan hardly eat.

If Dan tells me to leave him alone one more time I don't know what I'll do. I'm angry but I'm also dangerously close to just giving up and pleading forgiveness so often now, which he'd probably think is childish, or weak. But I can't take this bitter silence. I feel pathetic, being so dependent on him. Cat has taken my side but I almost wish she wouldn't, all she does is piss him off. I don't want to be the one to fix this- I don't know where to start.

The wound begins to heal over and walking becomes more manageable, but still another day wears on and very little happens in terms of change.

He acts indifferent about this strange muted relationship but I sense fairly quickly that he isn't happy with himself either. I catch him looking at me when he thinks I'm distracted, emotions flickering over his expression until he notices and immediately hardens it with a glare, looking swiftly away. When I talk to him he's vague and discrete, indicating he's retreated into the confines of his own thoughts. I don't know how to fix him, he won't even look at me, let alone answer. My heart hurts from missing him, though in the increasing number of days there are that pass I become more and more more bitter.

"He's ignoring me and I'm so sick of it!" I complained to Cat one night while Dan was on watch. We were sat against the rock wall, keeping our voices down since Dan was on the platform just about ten feet above. "Why can't he just talk about his problems? I'm his best friend, why can't he just be open with me of all people?"

She shook her head, looking lost. "He's been through a lot. You both have. Maybe he's just being dramatic. It's not just girls that go through that phase."

I raised my voice slightly, almost hoping he would hear me. "He's not going through a phase. He's just being stubborn. All I want to do is help."

It did feel nice to vent the problem to Cat. While a little bit demeaning and judgemental she genuinely was my only other good friend and she knew to be sensitive and not outwardly insult Dan in front of me, instead offering other explanations. I wasn't sure why I kept defending him, even if he's special to me he didn't frankly deserve it.

Why am I so frustratingly easy to walk all over?

That's not even the worst part.

He has nightmares every night. Even by his usual standards, they're worse than ever before. If anything serves as a sure sign that he's unhappy, I think this is it. One night he screamed so loudly it jerked me right awake, not sleepily concerned like I am sometimes. I bolted up to see him tangled in his duvet, eyes screwed shut and stress lines mapped all through his face.

At first I thought we were being attacked or something, groggy mind trying frantically to compose a list of things that would elicit such sounds of pain and fear. But no, he was sleeping. It was just another nightmare, but somehow that made it almost worse. Monsters I can fight but dreams... he keeps those to himself. He lets himself be tortured by his own psychological images, subjected to things stemming not from some sadist's creativity, but from the depths of his own mind. Then he locks the pain away when he awakens, feeling alone is his troubles as if he doesn't have me there as well.

I didn't want to break any boundaries, he'd been explicit in the fact that he didn't want to be near me, and I'm sure that definitely included being touched. I could only sit there and watch him, flinching with every sharp intake of breath and whimper of fear. I was angry enough that trying to ignore him and sleep might have almost been possible, except for the fact that I have a stupid, stubborn heart.

It became unbearable, his breathing so scared and rapid I was worried he might be panicking. I suddenly didn't care what it was, or that it wasn't real. All I knew was that it was hurting him, and so I tried to take his hand again.

It had worked so well last time, when I'd taken it that time in the barn. I was upset with him, hurt even, but his face was so vulnerable, so full of genuine pain and fear that I didn't even want to imagine what he could be seeing, stuck as always to using my imagination.

I felt the telltale cold as I curled his palm into my fingers, trying to transfer my warmth and make his whole body calm again. I felt like home and security to him, solving his problems even when he tried to push me away. At least I thought I did. Dan always said I was too optimistic.

"Dan.." I murmured tentatively.

He immediately woke up and whipped his head up to face me, his tired eyes still half-shut. "What the fuck are you doing?!" He hissed, my fingers pressed guiltily in the palm of his hand where they'd frozen in shock. I quickly drew it back, so upset I only answered him with silence. I scrambled back into my own makeshift bed, drawing the blue blanket around me and blocking myself from his vision.

"Phil." He huffed irritably but I ignored him, this time taking my turn at blocking him out. I guess I did have some spite in me after all because being able to defy and ignore him-it felt good, like he was finally getting what he deserved for driving a wedge between us. What was wrong with me? I never got like this, I usually gave Dan every chance I could because god knows he needed it. It never made me pleased to upset him, I could feel the guilt trying to twist up inside of me and forced my thoughts to run angry and dark.

Oh well, I told myself. I'm not helping him this time. I squeezed my eyes shut and willed myself to fall asleep, but of course it was a while before it ever came. I could feel his eyes boring into my back.

Let him think about what he's doing to me. Maybe he needs to sit there alone in the dark.

"He's never going to come back to you if you act like that." Cat scolded me later, and I tried not to let my face reflect the battle taking place inside me. The stubborn, hurt Phil that wanted Dan to come crawling back to me and and admit what he'd done because he couldn't take advantage of my forgiveness forever and the reasonable, stupidly optimistic sunshine Phil that knew he was dealing with things inside himself and I needed to be the bigger person. But that was hard, he was so uncooperative.

So like a failure I settled on doing nothing, watching him dwell within himself night after night after night and hoping blindly that he'd just come back. I knew it deep down. I missed him. If I could've waved a magic wand and reversed everything I would've, too bad real life just doesn't work like that.

Until one night. The day passes normally, no different than the week before except the food is a lot more plant-based as we run out of meat and canned things.

I spend the day just doing mindless tasks, chopping wood (which I do not have the arms for) and carrying supplies (which I do not have the legs for) to help PJ and Mark. When I run out of things to do I go for a walk with Cat just outside the campsite, not very far though because she apparently senses other zombies around.

It's at night that everything changes, both between Dan and I and oddly enough, the weather. It's suddenly not summer, the air drops in temperature and stays that way, the night washes in cold.

It's very beautiful tonight, the sky painted with deep pinks and purples and scattered with a sprinkling of stars. I've pulled on my second (and only other) hoodie and am sitting against the willow silently watching them emerge, trying not to speak out as Dan sits up like he's taken a cue from the darkness, off for the fourth night in a row to sit up on the watchtower. The beauty contradicts my mood, which is annoying. I feel positively ugly, watching him robotically stand.

Almost as if everything is determined to be changing, the landscape around us is starting to turn cool and muted, leaves changing colour from summery green to the autumnal oranges and tawny browns. Even as I sit here stationary I see leaves in the clearing occasionally drifting down, the niggling worry of what to do come winter competing amongst my convoluted thoughts.

My hoodie is dark blue and I'm almost beginning to grow sick of the colour. When it's the only colour you wear besides a selection of faded graphic tees and a grey jumper it's not difficult to somewhat dislike the repetition, especially because all my shirts are stained and worn out with dirt, grass stains, and even blood. Like the sky, it also reflects my mood with its melancholy shade, and I pick at a piece of the fabric as my best friend goes to leave me again, his hands pushing off the comforter audibly. It strange that at a time like this I'm vaguely thinking about the shirts I took with me from London.

"If you're so unhappy about our living conditions, why don't you just come out and say it?" I blurt. "Why are you acting like you hate me? What did I do?"

He doesn't immediately say anything and I would almost think he's ignored me, if not for the way he suddenly stiffens.

I hadn't planned on saying anything. I figured if he was going to be this stubborn that he would just have to work through it all on his own. Work to get himself back to me. But even after multiple sleepless nights of leaving me to sit alone under the willow, he still kept volunteering to do the watch. For some inexplicable reason he wanted to get away from me, and under this revelation I began to lose a lot of my angry resolve, replacing it with sadness and confusion. So I guess the exasperated demand just sort of...slipped out. As usual, it was me that gave in first. How unsurprising.

It's almost comical, how abruptly he stops.

I see his shoulders tense, his hands curling into his fist in a quick struggle for composure, before turning back to me with features flat, but a look in his eyes that is anything but calm. He turns around to look at me slowly, brown irises blazing, sitting back down with arms crossed. He doesn't even look that angry yet considering, just genuinely confused.

"I don't." He says flatly.

"Don't what?" I ask irritably, mimicking his tone.

He gives me a look, like I'm the one being the issue.

"Hate you. What would possibly make you think that?" His voice is dangerously monotone, meaning he's putting in every effort to not say anything incriminating. I don't know why he bothers.

He can't be serious. He's gone out of his way to avoid me. I've been trying so hard to reach out to him, rethought my own choices to see where I went wrong. He's deliberately drawing back.

"You're kidding, right?" I question lowly, actually daring to glare right at him. "How, then, would you like to explain how my past week has been? I've tried everything to reach out to you. I've been so worried and you're acting like you've forgotten how to have feelings. Ever since I insisted we stay here at camp where it's safe you've been suddenly shunning me, like the worst possible thing I could ever do is ask you to stay here with me at a place where we have allies. I don't get it!"

His eyes widen and I see his weakly contained composure beginning to slip.

"Is that what you think this is about?!" He spits quietly, raising his eyebrows as if to demonstrate just how stupid I'm being, which I don't appreciate. "Do you really think I'm that selfish and narrow-minded?"

I'm taken aback by his intensity, not expecting such a strong reaction.

"Phil, tell me you don't have that low of an opinion on me. Please tell me that was a joke."

For a moment I can't even speak. He's not just upset, he's beyond that. His voice betrays his feelings of hurt and I suddenly feel guilty, though I don't know why, I don't know what I did. Okay Phil, congratulations, he's talking to you. Now look what you've done.

"Isn't that-" my eyes widen, seeing his affronted expression and experiencing a flood of realization. "-that is what you're angry about, right?"

What else could he possibly be angry about?

"The fucking living arrangements?!" He explodes, making me shrink back against the willow trunk as he storms up to me. "Are you serious?"

I cross my arms defensively, trying to hold back the stream of emotions I just want to throw in his face. I'm not going to let him yell at me, he doesn't get that right. My heart aches to just drop everything and hug him which only irritates me further. He doesn't deserve that. That's what I keep telling myself.

"You want to counter that?" I ask just as loudly, feeling a bitter satisfaction as he whips his head around, glancing feverishly to see if anyone's overhearing us.

"What?" I add, seeing this action. "Don't want anyone to to hear us? Don't want to look like you know how to have emotions?"

He lookes torn, perching poised and tense on his blanket. I don't know why he isn't leaving. He's done it so easily multiple times before.

"I don't think you believe that." He insists roughly, a crease forming between his eyebrows. He won't look at me, but I know he's listening.

"I don't know what to think!" I cry, blinking furiously and then locking eyes with him, daring him to try anything else. "Don't lie to me, you're not happy and that's clear enough. I always thought that out of anyone in this world I'd be the one you could always trust, but now we've just been through hell and you won't even sleep at the same time as me, I'm not an idiot, I know you take the watch because you want to be alone in your thoughts and you don't want me around you. You don't want confrontation. Well I'm sorry, you're getting it."

"I don't even-"

"Why don't you spit it out, Dan?!" I protest, my voice ringing through the trees. "Prove you have emotions, for once. You think hiding everything from me is going to do you any good? No. You're just making it difficult."

His face falls and I realize what I've said only moments later. My hands fly over my mouth and then I'm scrambling over to him, regretting everything immediately and forgetting my anger. He doesn't even look at me, just turns away as I draw close, stopping at his sudden lack of will to fight.

I could have said anything. I could have been reasonable, could have asked for his side of the story and let him throw the angry words. I could have just left him to himself, for no amount of shunning can equal up to what I've just said.

There's one thing that Dan's most afraid of. More than moths or zombies or the unknown in the dark. The one thing he's admitted to me with great difficulty, putting himself on the line by extending his fragile box of secrets for me to see, endangering his impenetrable facade of indifference, his safety. He's afraid of being a liability, a burden to those he's close to. He's afraid of rejection, that's why he fights so furiously against it.

You're just making it difficult. The words hang in the air above us, a demonic string of words that came from my mouth, the one place they shouldn't have ever come. I'm the only person he trusts, the one person who could truly hurt him, and this is what I've done with that power. I don't blame him for answering me with silence.

"No." I stammer quickly, seeing him close off and lower his head, shrinking away from where I am. "No, Dan. I didn't mean that. I didn't. I'm so stupid. Dan, please look at me."

He shakes his head, not even giving me a vocal answer.

"I'm sorry. You don't make things difficult, I don't know why I said that." I'm pleading, fear flooding into my system as I realize how awful this answer was. And how mistaken I am. "That's what I'm doing." I realize, seeing him tense but neither agree nor disagree, and I ache to touch him, I can't stand the look on his face.

"I'm sorry. I'm being shallow. You didn't do anything wrong, please let me fix it, or say something, oh my god I-"

"You know what?" He hisses, glaring down at his own hands. "I think I'll just go to bed."

My throat closes and I gasp as he turns around, yanking the comforter over himself the way I'd done the other night. He's going to do the same thing to me, and the worst part is that I can hardly blame him.

"No!" I protest again, crawling over to grab his shoulder and shaking it, words tumbling in a panic from my lips. "Dan- listen to me."

He yanks the blanket up to his ears but I go on anyway, tears threatening to spill over the edge of my eyes because I feel so bad. "Don't let anybody, anybody tell you that's all you're worth. Not Mark, not Felix, not some random stranger and definitely not me. Don't think for one second that you're undeserving of kindness and consideration. Don't forget what I told you last week. I meant it when I said you're more important than anything else in my life. You're my priority, always."

He sighs, shrugging off my touch and tightening the grip of the blanket around himself.

"Just talk to me. I'm not really angry," I persist, feeling remorse wash over me because it's actually true. I'd been confused but I hadn't bothered to try and decipher his reasons, just decided he was being unfair. What an adolescent way to deal with things. He has reasons too. It's awful how often all of us forget that.

"I want to understand." I shove his shoulder and he jerks away from my touch.

"Oh, do you?" He retorts. "It doesn't sound like it."

I bite back my frustration, knowing it won't help at all. Even I'm making him fight for happiness, as if losing Marzia hadn't already been bad enough. Everyone is against him because of me.

"Please," I say pathetically. And then an unexpected word slips out:

"Bear?"

He stops short at the nickname, it's one he hasn't heard me use in a long, long time. I can't even register that I've just said that. By now, I'd almost forgotten. Where the hell did that come from?

I called him Bear before anything else. It was the first nickname I'd ever given him, the only one that ever really stuck. It inspired a lot of cheesy Christmas presents and even his Halloween outfit one year, and it only really vanished after the apocalypse's start. There were a lot of reasons for it, his huggable body and brown mop of hair practically screaming for the nickname to occur. A lot can change in one year and for me it was one of the things that just sort of died, becoming irrelevant even though I used to use it as often as I saw my best friend. It just wasn't something I thought to think about while struggling for survival. It was the one thing that would get his attention, no matter how irritable he got or how self-absorbed, although now it just sparks a perplexed look on his face as he sits up very slowly to look at me, his eyes narrowed.

"If you think you're gonna convince me by being nostalgic and weird-" he begins coldly, before changing his mind and snapping his mouth shut.

I sit against the tree trunk with my arms crossed, a frown stubbornly plain on my face.

He turns his head and stares at me blankly, eyes still determined in expression but his jaw has gone slack. He sighs quietly, then pulls the blanket over himself, rolling over to face away. My stomach sinks. My anger quickly dissipates as I'm hit bluntly with the realization that I've just done the opposite thing of what I set out to do. I was supposed to smooth things over, not call him out on everything he's done wrong! Why did I think being critical of him was going to make him listen?

We're quiet so long I start to feel the fear intensify twofold in my chest. His posture has relaxed and I realize he might soon be sleeping, which will leave us off no better than before.

Then he says something, catching me totally off guard:

"Don't forget what I said that night either. That there's only three things in the world that make me happy. No matter what."

I think my breath actually catches in my throat. I'm so shocked, now up to speed with his train of thought. Apparently we're on two totally different lines of thinking.

That's right- there were three things he listed. All he could think of. Three things that made him happy.

And one of them was me.

My heart swells with a burst of energy after feeling nothing but awful for the last several days. Dan's admission has us at a crossroads, we could go one of two directions. This is his peace offering, the closest I'll get to an apology. He did something that made me unhappy and I said some awful things, things I'm already regretting because now I'm slowly deciphering the cause of his hurt. A hurt I helped create. I can accept this offering and go back to ignoring him, or I can take matters into my own hands and try to make this better.

And as much as I am spiteful, I think fortunately my direction has always been to make his life better. So now I have a new resolution.

"You're such a spoon." I mutter jokingly, not garnering a laugh from him but somehow still feeling an ease in the tension. "C'mere."

I lunge over to where he's lying and yank up a corner of his blanket, causing him to jump and immediately try to pull it back. Stubborn, I place a hand on his back and push him forward, creating just enough space to squeeze in while shoving him out of the way. I tug the blanket over me and secure it under my legs, pulling it up to my chest. Then I lean back on my elbows and look down at him, noting that he's gone indifferent again and is apparently accepting his fate. Being this close to him makes me feel all fluttery and nervous, but then again everything does. I'm going to force him to be happy, it's my fault that he's not.

As soon as I've settled comfortably on the opposite side of him with my head propped up by my elbow I stretch my hands forward, reaching out tentatively to give him a hug. I don't even know why, it's such a weird thing to do and I've literally just gotten him back to me, albeit a bit reluctantly. But I so badly want to, I've always been a hugger generally and with Dan it's practically a rule. For someone so objectively selective about even minimal affection, he has a very huggable form.

But unexpectedly he sinks right into it, pushing himself over so that even though his back is to me I'm suddenly very close him. Chest to back, my arm wrapped around his shoulders. I feel every beat of my heart in my chest, this whole experience totally unexpected, almost not feeling real. He's nearly seen me die twice in the last two weeks and yet until now seemed determined to shut me out. I don't know how to feel about this being his natural reaction to our renewed closeness. I awkwardly accept it, closing my arms around him and squeezing him gently.

"Mmf...Phil-" He grumbles halfheartedly, "-fuck off. I'm still mad at you."

I bend my knees so that my legs don't brush against his lower body, not wanting to push my luck and make things awkward. My head is propped up in one hand with the help of a backpack pillow supporting my elbow, the other hand is dangling loosely across Dan's chest. I can feel his heartbeat and as he breathes his chest rises and falls. He's totally calm, I hope he can't feel mine.

"Shut up." I shoot back, allowing myself to feel happy and it feels good, it's been so long. Between this and Marzia, I'd almost felt like I wasn't allowed to. "No you're not. I won't allow it. You've already accepted the hug."

"We're both assholes." he says quickly, apparently not in the mood to get sentimental. "I can't believe you even want to hug me after that. Why are you so damn good?"

"I don't know if you can really say that." I admit honestly, embarrassed. "I'm so sorry, Dan. I shouldn't have forced us to be here. I made you stay here even after I got shot, when I bet all you wanted was out. That's awful. How can you just forgive me?"

"I already told you," he huffs. "That's not why I was like that. Lets not even think about it right now."

"You don't have to explain." I say hurriedly, because suddenly, I just don't care anymore. Perhaps it has something to do with me holding him, but I won't be admitting that out loud.

I see him weakly shake his head. "Yes actually, I do." he protests softly. "You deserve an explanation. It wasn't even about you, it's selfish. I'm so messed up."

My heart breaks at his defeated tone. He sounds worn and downtrodden, as if he's slowly giving up.

"You know, maybe we don't have to stay here." I say quietly. I don't know if I want to, we can live just fine without the extra help I'm sure, maybe the companionship and shelter isn't worth it if Dan is this unhappy. "I guess we could leave, we'll find a better shelter."

He sighs. "No, don't say that. It's nothing."

After that we're silent for a long time. I shift my arms slightly to ease the pins and needles forming, but I can't bring myself to stop hugging him.

"Please be okay," he murmurs weakly, snuggling against my side as if it's the most natural thing in the world to do with your best friend. It catches me totally off guard. The anger has vanished, he sounds afraid, like he's calling for help but he shouldn't be. "I can't stand to think that you're hurt and it's my fault. I know that I hurt you, Phil. I'm sorry."

I watch him brush a hand limply through his mop of brown curly hair, so that the long strands don't fall into his eyes. It makes me want to brush my hand through his hair, to tangle my fingers in the soft strands.

" I am okay." I say truthfully, "honest. You don't need to worry about me. I hurt you too."

He sighs deeply, one of his hands wrapping around my wrist and holding it close to his chest like a security blanket, keeping himself in the hug as if I'd actually been planning to draw away. I'm feeling all sorts of butterflies and he has no idea, he still just seems really sad and I know his thoughts are somewhere else. His hand is freezing, he's holding on stiffly, tapping on it like he does when he's thinking.

"Felix... he shot you." he protests. "I know he was out of his mind. But I don't give a fuck about hiding anything from you anymore after that. I'm going to say it, it scared me. I still stand by that promise I made, that if anybody threatens you, they're dead. I should have killed him."

I pause for a second, surprised by his surge of honesty. "No, Dan. He was just scared. He blamed me." What promise is he talking about? Did he make a promise to be there for me...to himself?

My heartbeat quickens. When he laid all his worries in front of him, he was thinking about me. I was on his mind. He thinks about me, cares about me. A lot.

As if I didn't already have ten thousand reasons to love him.

"But it's not your fault! It's mine," he whispers. "Marzia died because of me. We can pretend it didn't happen, none of us are talking about it. But you and I, we're the ones that know. Do you think he would have hesitated if he knew the truth? No! I'd be dead."

I don't know what to say to that. I'd give anything to object and say it's not true, but Dan knows me better than that and will only get upset if I try to placate him. Now that I know what's caused this angry silence, I feel so stupid thinking that he was being selfish. I want to make him feel better, let him know that I care about him in return. It must have been so hard for him to admit he was scared, he hates doing that. I wonder how he feels about us right now, this weird side-hug and hushed conversation. I wonder if he's even aware, he seems so calm.

"I didn't mean to close off on you." He continues. "I won't make any excuses. You didn't deserve that. You needed me, and I wasn't there. I hated the thought of keeping you here after that happened, it was even worse because you wanted to stay. I thought maybe if I gave us some distance I could sort through this mess in my head. I need to stop feelings things so deeply or I'm just gonna lose it. I'm already losing my sense of self."

He was distant because he didn't want to hurt me. He was willing to stay if I wanted to, it just frightened him because he thought it could go wrong. He wasn't mad at me. He was scared, scared of losing me and of feeling deeply enough to be hurt. He feels guilty about Marzia, feels like he's the only one at fault. I feel conflicting assaults of relief and shame, protective now that I understand him.

"You mean you're human." I answer. God, if he only knew the half of it. "Dan, you're allowed to feel pain and fear if you need to. You can't block out all the horrible things in this world by being angry. You'll waste away your life. Take some time for yourself, don't worry about me." I give him a squeeze and settle my cheek against his head, briefly.

"Mm." He murmurs disinterestedly. He's getting sleepy, but I can tell he's trying to fight; there's so much he wants to say to me but his watch nights are catching up to him and fatigue is taking over.

"Unless this apocalypse ends, I'll never stop worrying about you."

His hand tugs my wrist down further and now his warm, soft cheek is pressed against my palm. I curl a finger around a strand of his hair gently, finding it very difficult to let out a proper breath. I don't know what's happening. My elbow is tired and I give in, letting it collapse so that I'm lying down too. Dan shifts onto his back but keeps hold of my wrist, the pads of his fingers touching on my pulse point. They're echoing my rapid heartbeat and I wonder what he's making if it. This is something beyond my control, the beats internal, something I can't conceal.

"You know you really are my best friend." He tells me sleepily, tapping a pattern on the inside of my wrist. "That sounds like such a childish thing to say. We're all grown up now. I don't deserve to have someone like you around keeping me alive. I'm a terrible person."

I shake my head vigorously, scarcely believing he could possess a thought that's so obviously wrong.

"No you're not, Dan. I don't think you realize just how much you do, or how much you mean to me."

I don't know why I'm beating around the bush. There's no way he knows how much he means to me. We may be different now but we're still Dan Howell and Phil Lester, we've been best friends this long for a reason.

"Thank you." He murmurs sleepily, and I swear to god I see the ghost of a smile on his lips. Even though he's tired, even though the night is pretty dark. I hope I do.

We lie there in silence for an impossibly long time. My hand hesitates where it's draped over his chest, wondering if I should maybe release now that the position has gotten more intimate. It was supposed to be a hug, I wasn't supposed to be weird and cling to him. I didn't really plan this, I'm not sure if I'm meant to to leave now or if I'll stay here sharing his comforter all night. I decide to let him do the thinking, since he still hasn't let go of me.

Then I hear his breath catch, and I realize with a shock that he's asleep. He was so content in comfort, he must have dropped off just like that. It's been so long since I've had anybody hold me like this, and now I'm caught in the sleeping clingy embrace of my platonic best friend. I take a deep breath and release it louder than I meant to, and Dan doesn't even stir as the wind breezes over his face.

He was humiliated to be worried about me. He saw me get shot, and he was scared. He doesn't want Felix to know he feels guilty.

I'm awake for an impossibly long time. It doesn't help that the setting is still a little unfamiliar, this cold ground with a queen size blanket, one blanket for two. It's so dark, so silent, his breathing is the only thing apart from murmuring voices down by the fire that I can hear. They have no idea what's happening. I imagine the relentless teasing from Cat tomorrow morning once she sees and gets me alone, then promptly decide to not think about that. It stops me from taking in the fact that this is an actual moment.

I take the time to see his sleeping form beside me, squeezing him gently with the arm not in his hold. He finally looks nineteen, face slack and lines all smoothed. I curl my fingers to tap the side of the hand holding my wrist, reminding me again that this isn't some bizarre dream. He stirs and I let it drop, watching apprehensively for him to snap but he just shuffles sideways, right onto the edge of my shoulder. I let him cuddle up to me with a sigh as he groans and then begins to softly snore. He has no clue, but at least his subconscious seems to want to be near someone else. My heart swells with affection for him and for the first time in several days, I smile. This is Dan. The most important thing in my entire world, which is funny considering how long I've harboured this view.

I'm still not feeling one hundred percent better but I can't deny I feel giddy with this resolution. I decide to hold off on dealing with my problems until tomorrow, just let the stress wash away bit by bit and allow myself to drift slowly into sleep, my wrist held in place by small, curled fingers.

For the first time in days I focus on the positive instead of the negative, thinking about pretty colours in autumn and all the goodness Marzia brought in the short time I knew her. I think about how she was a companion and confidant to me, another girl to talk to for Cat and someone trustworthy enough to earn the positive acknowledgement of us all. I think about her two friends that looked to her for guidance and the way Felix trailed after her loyally and lovingly under any circumstances. I wonder if that's what I look like when I follow after Dan. She knew how I felt about me and him, the last thing she told me was to not be afraid to feel it. I've never been told that before, and nlw i, not sure if I'll ever be able to forget that.

I don't know how exactly I fell in love with him. It didn't all happen in a second. When did it go from him being my internet friend, to my crush, to my literal reason for existence an a post-apocalyptic world? It was years ago, I know that much.

[Dan] is now following you on Twitter.

But who is he? Why is he even liking my posts? My friends don't even do that.

[Dan] has sent you a message: hi :D so...my name is Dan.

Phil ^_^: hi!

Would you like to follow [Dan]?

Sure...I guess.

Phil ^_^: thanks for following me!

[Dan]: I think you and I are both equally lame. That's a good thing, by the way.

I guess it didn't just happen. It was a culmination of moments, building up gradually, little things that ultimately led to one particular night, when I think it all made sense.

After the first time we met it became pretty apparent that four hour Skype calls and funny midnight texts were no longer enough. Dan in person was something I could never have expected, a serious exterior hiding a shamelessly nerdy lifestyle and a wicked sense of humour. He was less stoic back then, still reserved about his emotions but glowing with that blissful air of life that we as privileged people all exuded but scarcely knew we had. It's funny how you don't realize how much you have until it's taken away from you. He was dorky and awkward, in the most highly endearing way.

I'd never had a friend who could speak about things so deeply and who treated me like I wasn't second to someone else or boring. Don't get me wrong, my other friends were great, but it seemed to me that Dan just sort of... got me. We liked all the same things, listened to all the same bands. Though outwardly we were very different, me living loudly with my love of bright colours and my weird conversation topics and him standing by quietly and wearing for the most part black, I'd never met anyone more like me.

If that wasn't already enough, when it came to our friendship he was fiercely dedicated. Because for whatever reason, Dan didn't have that many friends. Not that I cared. I could talk to him about any topic and he would listen, whereas a lot of the time my real life friends would hear what I'm thinking and tell me I'm weird, as if it's a bad thing to have more than just cookie-cutter thoughts. I don't know.

I was pretty sure I knew it at the train station. I still liked to furiously deny it though, even after I broke down crying a few days later as soon as he had to say goodbye, the rumbling vehicle carrying him out of sight. When it came to him I'd long ago stopped trying to look fake and manly, it just wasn't who I was. I was just Phil, and Dan was fine with that.

Call me lame or low-standard, but to be fair he was also really attractive. He wasn't knock out beautiful in the way you saw in magazines, all beefy hench guys with toned abs and sultry good looks, no movie star body or sculpted jaw or mysterious eyes. No, he didn't need that. He was thin and and soft around the edges, warm and familiar like the first day of summer. He had light brown hair that he always swept sideways, wide, gentle eyes and slightly rounded cheeks. He was the kind of person who if you saw as a stranger you'd trust them, be able to walk alongside them with a feeling of safety. He had more carefree good looks, the kind I much preferred because usually beef man turned out to be noticing you for one reason. It meant he looked well suited even in something as casual as jeans and a hoodie, not needing to be impressive because he was quite simply my best friend. Just good, if that makes any sense. He was undeniably very, very pretty, and outside of his unique first messages it was the first thing I noticed.

We used to walk around the city a lot looking for coffee shops or games stores, taking the tube to the more exciting parts of London than my neighbourhood like Seven Dials. Way more often than not I would spot some girl taking an interest in him, trying to glance at him discreetly when he couldn't see. Sometimes one would even harness the courage to approach us and flirt with him, and even though he was completely oblivious to these happenings they bothered me a lot, and at first I couldn't figure out why. So what if a blonde girl gave him extra cookies with his order of coffee? Why should it have mattered that a girl liked my best friend? It wasn't that I was jealous of him, I didn't like girls in that way so I didn't exactly care. It would've been cool if he got a girlfriend. Good for him, if it was ever socially possible for him to like one back. Right?

Then came a day in my apartment. We were having another sleepover, it was before his parents broke up so he didn't have to stress about maintaining contact with two separate people, desperately trying to keep his schedule in check. He was spending four nights this time, having worked every day after school to get enough for a decent seat and good tickets for the train. It wasn't anything out of the ordinary, we were just playing a game.

Well, correction. He was playing a game. We were sitting on my mattress in my bedroom with my blue duvet draped over both our knees and backs against the wall, splitting a bowl of popcorn in the space between our legs. He was twiddling furiously with a black controller, and for the life me I couldn't tell you if the game was Crash Bandicoot, Sonic, or Mario. I can't even remember the console, I had quite a few. It was one player and I was very content to watch him, it was a warm, happy atmosphere and I was totally relaxed. He was rambling as he played, a nervous habit he'd always had when the game got stressful. I didn't even need to answer, he'd occasionally glance at me but mostly it was just talking, talking, talking. Filling the silences with random sentences.

If I lived in a universe like this one I wouldn't care about the objectives. I'd just run around like an idiot and use all the powerups. Like screw all this puzzle-solving bullshit, I want to be able to run up a wall. The main reason why if I were in an alternate universe, I would probably die.

I remember I'd laughed, and then looked away for a second to glance at my wallpaper, thinking the peeling stripes were a really ugly pattern that I couldn't wait to change. I pictured asking Dan to help me redo them, and then I looked at actual Dan.

He was still waffling on energetically, leaning forward with his controller with a sudden smile breaking over his face. His tongue was poised in the corner of his lips, in the sweetest face of concentration.

And out of nowhere it hit me. I was attracted to his looks and didn't like sharing him with girls because I liked him. I liked him a lot. I liked everything about him, from the floppy mane of brown hair to the random bouts of existential crisis. He was funny and huggable and didn't call me stupid for a childish nickname like 'Bear'. When you're a twenty year old boy with no real concept of romance or actually finding someone you consider remotely interesting, this new concept of having feelings for him is and was, frankly, terrifying.

He didn't even notice my realization, too busy chattering and mashing buttons in my bedroom with the duvet and the popcorn and the ugly walls while meanwhile, my whole world was spinning. Though outwardly of course, I said nothing. An admission like that would be too out of the blue. He probably suspected but didn't know or care that I was gay. It didn't really matter. None of that mattered to Dan at all. It was just a matter of if you were patient enough to give him your time. You just have to be patient to let Dan be your friend.

I didn't know how to deal with it directly, so I didn't. My course of action upon this profound discovery was to stutter out excuses to a mildly distracted Daniel and leg it out of the room, closing myself off in my bathroom for about twenty minutes while I tried to calm the feelings of my racing heart. I sat on the floor with my head in my knees, seeing the bright red colour in my cheeks and my wide eyes reflected at me in the floor length mirror, breathing rapidly in and out, in and out. In a book it'd be cute to read about but in reality, I was all a mess. It felt beautiful but also hugely embarrassing. I, Phil Lester, had feelings for my favourite person. I wasn't quite sure what to do, there was no way Dan could find out. I was stuck with a secret.

And it never went anywhere, it just grew. For one of us, anyway. Look at me now, it's ridiculous. Back then it had felt a little bit silly and a lot bit scary, now it's more like a dull reminder of what could be, but probably never will. To his credit, we've both grown up a lot.

I jump when a bush of hair interrupts my thoughts. Back in the present he's abandoned his pseudo-pillow and is instead using my shoulder, burying his nose between it and the backpack under him. His head bumps into my chin and stays there, and I'm not sure what to do with it. He's so sweet when he's sleeping, he wouldn't dare do anything like this while awake. He probably wouldn't even think to. I'm enjoying it, I've missed him so much, even if his way of returning is to unknowingly give me a face full of curls. If he reciprocated everything that I had ever felt, is this what it would be like?

He's back. I'm so glad that he's back. I know he's sad but I can make that better, it's so much easier when you have someone else. The memories of better times are slightly overwhelming after not thinking about them so long, strangely blissful like a warm cup of coffee before the inevitable caffeine crash. Then there's Dan lying close to me like something out of a dream. I'm floating on a cloud and I won't be descending anytime soon, I'll cling to this tiny spark of happy as long as I can. His curls this near to my face are highly tempting, and suddenly a new impulse is disobediently popping into my mind.

I shouldn't. I really shouldn't. But he's fast asleep, his body curled against mine and his breathing calm and even after several long, horrible nights of coldness and raw emotion. His soft, curly hair is light against my cheek and I can't help it, don't even stop to think. He's so calm, so content and comfortable, that without really considering, I pull him closer and just kind of... do it.

I lean forward and brush my lips lightly over the back of his head, into his hair, feeling him shudder slightly in response but knowing he's too far gone to notice. My heart races all the same even as I draw back and I freak out internally, it's the first expression of how much I love him that I've ever shown, in any of our years. It's all I can do, maybe all I'll ever be able to do, so I just hug him closer to me, squeezing him gently and whispering reassuringly even though my words won't really reach him.

It's okay. It's all gonna be okay from now on. I look at him and solidify my resolve, lifting my other hand to tuck the blanket more tightly around him. I'm here now, and I won't let anything happen to you, Dan. I promise.

And how badly I wish this could ever be true.

The number of times dear author Aly🌙 accidentally typed shit instead of shot in the last two chapters was too many to count. Please pray for my sanity, and join me in questioning why the letter "I" is right next to "o" on the keyboard. So many errors. So much. Hahh.

Tell me dnp are cute as hell. Because they are.

In real life they're killing me also. They're so open with each other around us now and I love it. I love how happy they are. You'll probably hear stuff like this again because I can't say it enough. They're! So! Happy!
They deserve it.

Ahhhh I love them.

Okee bye! ~Aly🌙 (please vote if you feel like making my lonely self's entire day)