"May I have this dance to make it up to you
Can I say something crazy? I love you."
-Meadowlark

Phil

"Dad."

It's like the entire camp falls silent for a moment.

I see Mr. Howell's eyes widen, his brown eyes and curled hair a mirror of the boy next to me. Even with the apocalypse-worn features on his face that we all seem to bear, I can see for the first time how remarkably similar they look, both with their rounded cheeks and straight nose and serious expressions. He opens his mouth to speak but there's no sound, an impossible amount of shock and emotion crossing his face. His curly hair is a bit darker than Dan's, a bit longer, but it's undeniably him.

The men next to him all take a step back and I feel my breath bate in my throat, see Dan's form tense next to me, hands clenching into fists.

I remember seeing him before the apocalypse, in his crisply ironed shirts or a button down, so it's odd to see him now in a battered grey jumper with a vest overtop, a claw mark through the puffed out fabric that shows he's fought before. The stubble on his face looks a few days unshaven, a serious contrast to the the man of the past.

"Dan." He croaks suddenly, shattering the silence. It's strange to say I've forgotten what his voice sounds like. It's low, rough, but with that same underlying natural softness that Dan has. I haven't seen this man in two years, but it feels like much longer. "Dan? That can't really be you."

I see Dan's hands twitch for a fraction of a second, he swallows and his eyes dart about frantically. I think I've forgotten how to breathe. Fear and confusion are fighting for dominance on Dan's face and I don't even care about punctuating the silence. I just stare the man, unable to form a strand of thought.

He should be lost and far away by now. The odds of finding someone from our old life again have to be ridiculously slim- a chance drawing out of thousands. How can he possibly be here, standing in front of us when Dan's only just shifted to talking about him in the past tense?

"Please." He pleads again. "Are you Dan?"

Dan just stares at him, an impossible amount of fear on his face.

Our friends are in silent shock. I see Mark with his hands crossed over his chest, Felix focused on the man in front of him. Cat's looking at Dan almost in pity- not sure entirely how to react.

"You... know Dan?" Beard asks awkwardly. Mr. Howell ignores him, totally focused on his son.

"Talk to me." He breathes. "Please."

Dan shakes his head.

This can't be happening. Not here, not now. Not in front of everyone. I'm not even touching Dan anymore, he's standing a small space away and I don't even think he realizes he is, it's all just fear. The pressure is on for him to respond but there's absolutely no way he could form a word right now. I don't even want to think about the fact that he has to make this decision.

Of all the things of the past I had expected to rear up, I'd never imagined this to happen.

As subtly as I can, I try to take a step forward to conceal him slightly from view. I feel defensive even though the man has made no move to attack him, I don't know what Dan plans to do.

His eyes flicker to me for only a moment but there's so much emotion conveyed in the gaze it almost overwhelms me. His wide eyes focus on me like he's tethering to something before I've lost them again, his head shifting forward at once.

It's like that small movement snaps him out of whatever frozen terror he's stuck in. I can hear his breaths coming out frantic and shallow and he suddenly looks the man dead in the eye, eyes shining with tears that I know he refuses to let fall. His fingers are still clasped tightly and he shakes his head as he steps away from him, eyes casting abruptly to the ground.

"No." He whispers. And then he turns on his heel, quite abruptly backing towards the gates. I grab for his hand but he backs right out of it, stumbling back in past the stone archway so fast you'd think someone was after him.

"DAN!"

His dad lurches forward immediately with eyes wide and goes to follow him, but Earring grabs him by the arm and pulls him back. Unlike our companion the middle-aged man is tall but thinly framed, and there's little he can do to resist being yanked back by our muscular guide.

"What are you doing?!" He shouts at Earring. He struggles as the man loops an arm around his chest, stopping him from pursuing. "Are you crazy?! That's my son!"

His voice is so full of grief. Earring's expression is serious and he tries to meet the man's eyes, but Mr. Howell is totally focused on the gate, angry fire blazing in his eyes. He barely even acknowledges the arms restraining him, only focused on getting away.

In a matter of moments Dan rounds the corner, and then he's gone. His father's expression goes from desperation to pain, staring at where he was standing. A strange kind of feeling twists itself in my chest.

"Let me get to him!" He pleads. "You can't just let him run off. I haven't seen my son in two years."

Earring looks at him solemnly and relaxes the hold, keeping him in place but not restraining him. "Is there something you plan to say to him? He doesn't look happy to see you."

"What?" Mr. Howell exclaims. "That's Dan! I can't just-"

"He's obviously confused and scared." Earring points out.  "Remember he hasn't seen you in two years either. You need to let him work through his denial, or whatever it is."

I see Mark turn to look at me with an cool expression, nodding his head. It's a whole lot deeper than just denial, he knows that as well as I do. He raises his eyebrows at me.

"Phil. Go after him." He tells me gently, making Dan's father stiffen at once. "This is obviously hard for him. He probably won't answer to anyone else."

Beard, Felix and Earring nod in unison, casting gazes back involuntarily to where my best friend has disappeared, the other people who had come with Mr. Howell staring to carry things into the camp. They're all carefully avoiding our gazes, politely staying out of the way.

Dan's dad stares at me in disbelief, his eyes raking over my form like he's seeing me for the first time. "Phil?!"

My heart drops in my chest and I feel almost as if a secret has been released, even though it hasn't really. Dan's dad is gaping at me and has gone limp in Earring's hold, looking like he's seen something out of a dream.

I swallow, turning nervously to face him with my heart beating out of my chest. He just stares at me, expression serious and hard to discern.

"You're... you're Phil, aren't you?" He asks quietly. He sounds like he can't believe his eyes. I don't know how to react to him. I have to remind myself that this is the man who reduced Dan down to tears, who lashed out at him for fear of identity, the reason my best friend decided to move away. His face looks nothing like the hardened one over an abruptly cut Skype call. He looks defeated, his expression conveying that he's seeing something that almost hurts with reunion.

That fire is gone. It's crazy how much a broken world can change us.

I hesitate. "Yes."

His achingly familiar brown eyes focus on me with emotions I can't place, losing some of their fire and looking more like his son when he's displaying genuine emotion. He looks so much like Dan. It makes it hard to breathe, just that small similarity giving me a pang.

"You look so different." He whispers. "I didn't even recognize you. You're alive. You kept my son alive."

I don't know what to say to that, staring at him silently stunned with nerves jangling around in my chest.

He shakes his head. I'm not expecting a a follow up to that, but then he adds something else:

"I remember you. You made him so happy."

It's like for a moment I've totally lost my breath. It feels like there's something wrong with the universe, like there's a script he should be sticking to, words I'm expecting to hear, and that's not what he's supposed to say. He doesn't look angry anymore, his expression is just empty, sad, but his eyes hold the disbelief that he's actually seeing me again as if it isn't bad to see my face again.

His words strike a dull chord in my heart. Happy. I made Dan happy. That's what he remembers about me. He's not put off by me, but relieved.

"He-" I mull over my words in my head before I speak them, not really sure what to say to this man I honestly used to be somewhat afraid of. How could I not be, when he didn't want me allowed to their house at all?

"He made me happy too." I say decidedly. "He still does."

There's a bit of a silence, Dan's absence creating a gap we can't breach. I can't tell if the look in the mans eyes is disapproval, which I'm expecting, or simple unsureness.

"I know what it must feel like to see me." He says, addressing the obvious elephant in the room. It gets the uncomfortable introductions out of the way, and makes it pretty clear to me that he knows where he stands. "If I were you I'd probably be finding Dan and telling him stay a hundred miles away from me. He probably feels the exact same way. I can see it in the way you're looking at me, he doesn't want to see me."

I don't answer that. I can't say it, we both know it's true.

"I don't know." I tell him.

He nods. "That's fair."

"Look, Phil." Earring cuts in gently, finally letting go of Mr. Howell and stepping towards me. It's clear he has no idea what's going on, but the unease in the air is noticeable. "Mark's right. You should go help Dan."

"How is he?" Mr. Howell cuts over him, almost despite himself. "He hasn't run into the confederation, has he? You have to tell me if he's safe."

That's all I need to look away from him silently, not sure how to tell him what exactly is going on. It's pretty clear the silence unsettles him, he tries to look right at me.

"They said someone was unconscious when the new survivors were brought in yesterday." He insists. My heart sinks, I start to walk faster. "Phil, please-"

"I'm gonna go." I say quietly. My eyes cast back to the arch, all I can think about is Dan, and what he must be feeling right now. "I need to talk to him alone."

Mr. Howell starts to follow, to the point where he has to be held back. His voice is desperate, as if he thinks Dan will disappear if he lets me go now. It hurts because I remember times where I'd felt things similarly, driving my feet forward and trying to will myself not to look back at him.

"I need to know what's happened to him!" He gasps. "I thought he was gone-"

I stumble back and focus entirely on walking back into the camp. I don't think about how Dan still has a father, how Mr. Howell still has a son.

"Wait!" He calls. But I don't wait.

A few leaves have fallen onto the path since last night and they crunch under my foot, several emotions riddling my thoughts and making it hard to think. It doesn't help that the camp is crowded and new and I don't know exactly how to navigate it. As I walk along the inner wall I look at all the structures and corners, trying to imagine where I'd go if I were Dan and I wanted to hide.

It takes a minute or so of pacing back and forth around the area, but as soon as I catch sight of Dan, I drop all dignity and very nearly run to him.

He's not far from the archway, standing behind a tree with his shoulder leant against a shelf structure backing the fence that holds firewood. When I first walk over to him he doesn't even move in a way that suggests he's noticed me, his arms crossed tightly over his chest and his eyes cast to the distant trees on the other side of the park. He looks unapproachable but I can see the stiffness, that old, familiar facade that he's put up again, definitely not a good sign. As soon as he's close enough to touch I walk right up to him, slow and careful so he doesn't feel trapped. I can see the way he's drawing in slow, calming breaths, he looks far too composed for someone whose mind is racing.

I place a hand on his shoulder and rub gentle circles into it with my thumb, watching as he raises his head slowly to look into my eyes. It's strange, at first he looks without seeing, like he doesn't even recognize me. His stiff expression vanishes when he focuses though, his hands reaching out and his face creasing.

I don't even need to ask questions as he collapses into my arms, pulling me against him and burying his face into my shoulder. He closes his eyes and just shakes his head, not even speaking at first. He knows why I'm here. He doesn't even stop to explain himself or look composed, just lets me hold him tightly for a few silent seconds. I hear him take a deep breath, let it out. And then he starts shaking.

"Hey." I breathe, pushing his hair out of his face and nudging my head into the curve of his neck. A harsh breath leaves his lips and I only hug him tighter, feeling him leaning forward and shaking his head. "You're all right. You're all right."

He doesn't answer at first, just hides his face and clings to me wordlessly, mustering his strength and holding me close.

We stand there for a long time like that, his mind racing at a million miles an hour so harshly I can practically read the thoughts in the rapid beat of his heart. I'm feeling the beats like a living rhythm against my chest, he waits for them to calm a bit before he's talking all at once.

"He's supposed to be dead, Phil." He blurts suddenly into the folds of my sweater. His voice is rough, sounding strained and angry, and he doesn't need an introduction this time to explain himself. "He should be rotting in the ground, gone. I just got him out of my head."

I nod silently and feel him sink against my chest, hands shaking as he tries to cover his face.

"Don't cry." I plead. "You can do this."

"I'm trying not to." He croaks. "God, he doesn't deserve that."

I draw back a little, meeting his tired eyes and seeing his determined glare. He tries to hide his face from me but I shake my head and touch his cheek, grounding him in reality because I know how these things go. It's what he does for me, our natural actions that have kept us both sane in the past. His cheeks are damp.

"You don't have to see him if you don't want to." I remind him. "It's okay if you don't. Nobody is going to force you."

"I don't know what I want to do!" He cries. A man walking by freezes and looks at him in surprise, startled by the shouting, and Dan just glares back until they reluctantly turn their head and carry on, shaking his head and kicking his toe into the dirt.

"What am I supposed to do? I wanted to fucking die at one point in my life and he didn't care." He spits. "He probably didn't even know that because we never spoke to each other near the end. I've gone a year and a half accepting the fact that he was dead and then suddenly he's in front of me-"

He looks at me helplessly, stepping back and crossing his arms tightly.

"What do I do?"

He knows it's an unanswerable question. He's not even really asking me, but just voicing how lost he feels. His brown eyes, his father's eyes, gaze at me heavily.

"In this situation?" I say honestly. I reach out and free his arm from the hold he has it in, tugging until I have ahold of his hand and I'm playing with his fingers. "Do what's okay for you. You owe him nothing, and he'd know exactly why you don't want to see him."

He opens his hand so I can reach it better, his eyes cast onto the point of contact and expression blank. My stomach jumps at the memory of holding his hand while we were drunk, how we'd fallen asleep literally holding each other. And how the same thing and has happened every night since. It's not the time to be thinking about it, but each touch feels even more weighted now that I went last night without him, not sure if he was okay.

"I have so many questions." He explains. "There's so much I don't understand. I'm so fucking scared. Why is he here?"

My heart hurts for him. I want to pull him right back to me again, but I know right now he needs to be the one to choose what space he needs. I just shake my head at a loss for words, emboldened by his refusal to let tears fall.

"Did he say anything to you?" He asks abruptly, linking our pinkies and gazing out at the yard, almost as if someone might see even this small, comforting thing which I pretend doesn't hurt at all to notice. "When I left you alone, I mean. I should have thought about that, I swear if he said something awful to you-"

"-No." I interrupt, slightly surprised at how quick he is to jump to my defence when he should definitely be thinking about his own well-being right now. "He didn't, first of all, but this isn't about me. I'm worried about you. Just let this be about you for once."

"You know how I feel about you worrying about me." He mutters. "Stop."

I raise my eyebrows at him, making the split second decision to twist my hand and push our fingers together. I know why he's speaking abnormally harshly to me, and it helps to remind me there's no real fire behind it.

My face heats as his expression falters just the smallest bit in surprise, his eyes widening when he meets mine. It means something to him, I realize. And apparently it's exactly what he needs because he holds tighter and turns away with a blush tinting his cheeks, looking at the wall. I don't know what to make of it.

"Just- Phil, I make everything about you because you're literally all I have left to make everything about. And I don't mean that in a bad way." He mumbles hesitantly. "I... don't make me say it."

I stare at him in with my heart in my throat suddenly, voice quieted by confusion. "What do you mean?"

He shakes his head, averting his eyes.

"Dan, you have Cat and the others too. It's not just me, you have other people that-"

"I worry about you all the time because I care about you more than I care about myself." He blurts angrily.

My eyes widen and I hold tighter to his hand, seeing his face darken even more. He looks down but he doesn't let go of me, and that's when the darkness rises back up again.

"Dan-"

"And I swear to god, if he said one thing against you I'll make sure he thinks twice." He snaps, interrupting my because seemingly, he doesn't want me to comment on the admission. "I won't let anyone negate you, of all things."

As gently as I can I pull him towards me, reaching out with my free hand and pulling him back into a loose hold. He only resists for a second, barely even trying compared to normal standards, letting me wrap my free hand around his side so I can speak into the curls on the side of his head.

"You need to let this be about you for a moment." I say quietly. His hair is soft, brushing my lips as I speak. "Your dad isn't going to go away. He was panicking, asking me where you've been and if you were okay-"

"Of course he fucking did." He croaks, glaring. "I only start to matter when I'm dead."

I fall silent, stunned by the harsh words that have just left his mouth.

"I have to go talk to him." He mumbles. "I need to."

"You know you don't have to."

He nods tiredly. "I do."

I decide silently not to challenge him, trusting his judgment and knowing only he can determine what's okay for himself anymore. "Okay."

I link my arm through his and do my best to smile encouragingly, but it's hard when his eyes are wet and he's too angry to actually let tears fall.

"I'll be right there with you the whole time." I remind him. "Anything he says he'll be saying to us both."

"Yeah." He says defeatedly. "It's just a matter of actually doing it." 

"Let's just stay back for a minute first." I suggest. "Don't even talk. We'll clear your head up and then go."

And so we do. We stand still without considering that Mr. Howell is probably waiting for us to come back with nothing else in his mind, willing to wait all the time in the world. I give Dan a bit of space and try not to think too hard when he takes my hand back before moving, still hesitant to face this and yet very much determined.

The moment the sag leaves his shoulders it's like some unknown force possesses him, snapping him to attention suddenly. The fear is gone, replaced by something deeper. He holds my hand tightly and pulls me along, ignoring the stares of curious campers and my disbelieving stare, driven by a memory that's risen up from its cage.

It's only when we reach the gate again that he drops my hand. He lets go slowly, squeezing my thumb before he does and pausing at the arch.

"You don't have to do this." I remind him gently. He nods, but keeps his eyes on the stone.

"But I'm going to."

And just like I predicted, Dan's father is still standing with our friends, looking at Beard tensely and periodically glancing at the archway. He doesn't speak as we wander back over to them, Dan slightly in front with his hands curled and eyes not looking ahead. It only takes about a minute to make it back over, but the silence is deafening.

We stand together, and a decent distance away from the man. Conversation falls silent and all eyes go to Dan which I know he's going to hate, so much pressure on him to say the right thing when he's not even sure what the right thing is. He stops as soon as he meets his father's eyes and then it's just quiet for a moment, the two of them sharing silent, prolonged stares as if trying to recognize the memories they have in the face of the other person.

They look in silence, no emotion visible on Dan's tense face. He observes at his father the way one would look at something when they're not sure it's real, a detached fascination and no warmth in the gaze.

"Dan." His dad begins haltingly, likely not missing the redness in Dan's eyes. I jump at little at the sharp break in the silence.

He gets this single word out before his eyes widen in shock and Dan takes a step forward, eyes already burning with rage.

"I hate you!" Dan screams, making my eyes widen and the the man step back as he's assaulted with an accumulation of the words, ones built up over almost a decade of years. "I fucking hate you!"

Dan's father has to stumble back several steps at his son's striding approach, not sure what to do in the face of his reaction.

"I'm sorry." He manages.

"Oh, you're sorry?!" Dan shouts. "That's all you have to say?"

I stare at Dan in complete shock, not exactly sure how to feel or react. I always thought it would have been better if Mr. Howell knew the truth of what he'd done but now I'm not so sure if I truly knew what that meant.

"I don't know what I did exactly." Mr. Howell stammers.

Dan glares at him. "You know damn well what you did."

Comprehension quickly dawns on his father's face, eyes almost guiltily finding me, snapping back at the realization. "I know I put you through some things but I wanted to tell you-" he gets out.

"You don't know the half of what you put me through." Dan breathes. "You left without saying goodbye and then I never saw you again-"

"I know." His dad protests. "I knew that you had gone to London so I left you alone."

"You don't know." Dan snaps. "I'm not talking about London. Im talking about you being an actual parent for once in your goddamn life. You had no idea who I was anymore and you saw I was miserable and you left me. I could have fucking died and you would never have cared and now you think you can just appear?"

His father looks broken, the tired lines in his face more prominent and tears threatening to brim in his eyes.

"I always cared." He says quietly. Despite his son yelling at him, for the first time I've ever seen, Mr. Howell isn't yelling back. "I always cared and I should have told you. I can't believe you're alive."

Dan glares at him, his shoulders stiff and his fists clenched.

"Don't say that." He says harshly. "You don't just get to say that."

"There's hasn't been a day that's gone by where I haven't thought about you and your brother." Mr. Howell protests. "Every day for the last two years I've thought about everything I've done. Everything I could have done differently."

"You don't even know who I am anymore. I don't want you to talk to me."

"I don't have to. I know you don't want to talk to me. Dan, I understand."

"Stop admitting your mistakes!" Dan spits. "I don't want to forgive you! Why are you even here?"

"I'm not about to leave you!" Mr. Howell protests. "There's some things that are beyond our control-"

Dan's expression creases harshly, widening his eyes. "What, like me?!"

"No!" Mr. Howell protests. "What has gotten into you? You're still my son even if I made mistakes in the past."

This is not the thing to say. I realize this even before Dan's fists clench, eyes tear-filled despite his best efforts and wide.

"What has gotten into me!?" Dan cries. "The world ended two years ago and you want to know what's gotten into me?! I'm not the same kid anymore, dad! That boy is dead."

"Stop!" His dad shouts suddenly. "Please, don't say it like that-"

"He's dead!" Dan shouts triumphantly, making his father flinch back. "Isn't that what you wanted? The perfect son? The boy who wasn't reclusive and had friends and met every expectation you could possibly dream of?"

"Please."

"Oh, I see. I get it. You want me to be nice." Dan spits. "Well, dad. I was never known for being nice."

Mr. Howell isn't hiding his emotion any longer. "I don't want you to be-"

"I'm never going to be that person!" Dan cries. Now that he's started, it seems he can't stop. "I'm still your same fucking disappointment that I always was, but I'm alive, unfortunately. Guess I could have died if I tried hard enough, but then you wouldn't get to say you're sorry-"

His dad gasps. "Dan."

"Shut up!" Dan snaps, kicking a piece of scrap metal blocking his path. Distractedly, I can see Mark hesitating, as if wondering if maybe he should intervene. Dan takes another step, glaring into his dad's eyes. I wonder if he's going to hit him, or say something. A dull feeling strikes my heart, because the look on Dan's face isn't him. It's fear and anger, one I definitely don't recognize. It's much too harsh, much too broken. I can hardly bear to look at it.

My hand twitches and Cat sees it, putting a comforting hand on my wrist. A painful feeling builds in the pit of my chest, an ache building at seeing the distress on Dan's face.

"Dan, please just listen to me." Mr. Howell pleads.

"You never listened!" Dan shouts. He lunges forward, yanking his father by the collar. He looks him in the eye, and nobody makes a single move to stop him. "Don't you get that?! You never fucking listened."

I see Mr. Howell reflexively jerking back, eyes wide as Dan draws back his hand. His fist is shaking and he looks for all the world like he actually wants to hit him, an unfamiliar and detached kind of hatred thats almost heartbreaking.

His fists are clenched and his father just stares at him in defeat, waiting for the blow, the blow he deserved for all the things his son went through. I can see the other men and women in the group watching with wide eyes as they hastily try to get out of the way, picking up supplies and leaving with them.

"Do it." Mr. Howell whispers. I wonder if only Dan was meant to hear it, this broken plea so full of resigned defeat. Dan's eyes are still unfocused and he's breathing far too fast, I almost want to hold him and pretend I never let him decide they could speak again. His father looks at him and waits for the hit, maybe even wants it from the look on his face. Shame and apology, a mixture that's bitter to the taste.

"I said I hate you." Dan spits shakily. "And I meant it."

"I know." His father says again. Dan's face is creased, arm full of tension, and I can tell he doesn't really know what to do. He squeezes his eyes shut, tightening his fist.

"No." I hear myself gasping. I lurch forward to pull him back but at the same time Mark and Cat grab me, gripping to my arms as the pain builds in my chest. Dan doesn't even falter, drawing back his arm and snapping it into place, fists shaking with the urge to punch as hard as he can with all the terror and resentment of too much time.

He takes a deep breath. I see him draw him closer, he hesitates for a moment-

And then he makes a weak sound and throws his arms around his father, knocking the man back several steps and nearly bringing them both down.

I see Mr.Howell's shocked expression crumple, a grown man's composure lost as he pulls his son into his chest. Dan's fingers fist the fabric of the man's shirt as he collapses into his father's hold, my breath catching in my throat as I see Dan close his eyes, practically hidden from sight in his fathers hold.

Absolute silence falls over everything. I see that Cat's eyes have widened, Mark meets my eyes in disbelief and I see Dan only hold the man tighter. For a few moments there's just silence, nothing but the sounds of a creek in the distance and the rustling of leaves.

Mr. Howell's arms rise hesitantly up to touch to Dan's thin frame but as soon as they do, they pull him into him and hold onto him tight. Dan's expression is angry and only half-visible, but he's shaking like he can't let go. I feel a twist in my heart remembering the last time I'd seen him like this.

It had been after the first car crash, when he'd saved me and I'd woken up.

"I came to London to find you when it all started." Mr. Howell tells him weakly. "I didn't think in a million years that- that you'd ever be alive."

Dan shakes his head and tightens his grip, overrun by emotions that don't heal in a day.

"I never said goodbye to you." He whispers. "I never even said sorry."

Even from here, in this slackening hold that I have on me by two different people, I can see Mr. Howell shake his head furiously, staring down at the anger and brokenness contained in his now only son, almost like he's trying to connect imagination to reality.

"You didn't have to say sorry." His father snaps. "What did you ever do that needed apology?"

Dan's face goes pale, hesitating in his words. I don't know what I'm expecting him to say. I know his first thought is his sexuality, but there's never been a time where he dared to voice it. Several situations flit through my mid, before he suddenly responds in a whisper.

"You were right about some things, dad."

I feel my heart drop in my chest as Dan avoids looking at me, eyes cast down as if afraid he'll be shouted at again.

But Mr. Howell only scoffs, eyes staring incredulously like he thought Dan might say something else.

"You think I give a shit about anything from before anymore?" He whispers. "You're alive. That's more than anything I could have asked for. Fuck. Oh god, Dan. How did you make it out of that fire?"

"I thought-" Dan lets go of him, but his father is still gripping both his wrists. It's like he can't believe he's seeing Dan. It's like he's afraid to ever let go. "I thought you were dead."

Dan avoids his eye. "I thought you were, too."

A lump forms in my throat. It's like he's a ten year old boy again, conflict discarded and just him and his father again.

"Where's mom?" He blurts, his voice dangerously tremulous, helpless. "And Adrian?"

Even before I see Mr. Howell's expression I feel that sense of dread. I haven't thought about Adrian, Dan's younger brother in so long, in the same way I've tried to avoid thinking of my brother, my mother, my father, my friends, acquaintances, teachers... the list spans on and on. It's not that he was particularly close to his brother but they used to look out for each other in some ways.

Mr. Howell's eyes cast to the ground and I can see it hit Dan in that moment. It's all the answer he'll ever need.

"I think... I think we need to go for a walk." His father tells him hesitantly. "There's things you should probably know, and I'd rather not say them in front of everybody."

For several moments there's quiet, and I'm half expecting Dan to say no.

"I know you might not want to speak to me but I think you deserve to hear this." He elaborates. "I won't ask you to say much."

I'm torn because I almost expect Dan to not want to know. His eyes go to mine and when our gazes meet his expression hardens, his fists clenching back together again as he moves right back.

I feel each pulse of my heartbeat. He looks his father in the eye.

"I want to know." He says firmly. There isn't a shred of shakiness in his voice.

Mr. Howell nods, then slowly starts to lead him away.

I don't realize there's tears in my eyes until Cat asks me if I'm okay.

~~~

They're walking around the lawn together, and it's not a companionable conversation, but it's an important one that they clearly need to have.

I'm sitting by the creek, drawing a stick through the dirt with a thousand thoughts in my mind. The rushing water makes for a very calming sound and I try not overthink anything, aching to get up and be there for Dan. I know how anxious he gets when left to conversation on his own, and this is with someone he has years of bitterness to make up for with. I drown out these worries with river sounds, but I can't stop looking over at them.

The afternoon has an autumn-y feel to it, red and orange leaves falling off the trees and a golden glow colouring everything a warm orange as the sun drifts across the sky. It's cooler today than it was a few days ago too, reminding me of the changing seasons to come, and I pull my hoodie's sleeves up over my hands. Thinking about winter heightens the uneven feeling in my chest, mind balancing between sadness and warmth and worry and love. It hasn't even been half an hour, but already they've spoken without a raised voice.

My mind has drifted off into another world, carrying out conversations in my head with him that won't end up happening. It's been a while since I've been truly alone for a long time, someone else always walking in, needing to talk to me or something of the like. And even when I am alone, I'm usually with Dan. By choice, it's not often that I wish to leave him. When I sit by myself my mind talks a lot, a whole series of stories with situations and dialogues only I can hear. I don't want to think about the bad things so I don't, some barrier in my heart refusing to let me.

I draw the stick through a softer patch, swirling it around in a spiralling pattern that doesn't really look like anything, but allows me to lose myself in the motions.  It looks almost like a storm cloud, twisting and undulating in a mix of lighter and deeper browns, so I add an uneven lightning bolt, pretending it's something more brilliant that I could actually see in the sky. To the south, actual storm cloud are brewing, hovering on the horizon, making me wonder if maybe they might reach us tonight.

Dan used to tease me about that in the early days of our friendship. I grew up seeing very little of actual storms that grew strong enough to actually thunder and flash to the equivalent of what I expected. There was a thunder and lighting storm only once when him and I were together, actually knocking out the power on my street. Him and I sat in the lounge with a bowl of Doritos and some blankets playing board games by candlelight, and he'd laugh at the excited exclamations I'd make every time a white flash of lighting cut the sky and lit the room.

Phil, it's not that exciting. He'd joked. I remember looking back at him as another flash lit the room, the light glowing and brilliant in his eyes, and I'd disagreed.

I love it.

I've almost forgotten about the water as I think back to those days. When happiness was something as small as a night full of Dan and some lightning. I used to get so excited about it. Now it means I need to stay inside and keep a lookout for approaching monsters concealed in the dark. Really, I should be doing this even now. But I'm just so tired.

I smooth over the drawing and start on another, my less than stellar drawing skills allowing for nothing much more than some uneven, blocky city buildings. It's distracting, investing in the details of the drawing and adding realism by including trees and fences and lampposts. I start to draw in some people, men and women and kids and some couples. I forget about everything that's heavy and try turning the street into a neighbourhood, trying to distract my mind with every domestic detail I can think of to add. There's no zombies in this town, it's a cloudy day because the brown fringe-haired stick figure wants a storm to come so he can see lightning.

It takes longer than it should, the voices of the distant conversation vanishing. I work determinedly with one hand until I get back to the stick boy, hesitating before I push the twig down into the dirt next to him, and start to add another.

I draw a circle, add a neck and arms then the torso and legs. I scratch in some curls and draw a wobbly jumper around him so he stays warm, absently adding a hoodie to the other so he is too. The figures are less than an inch apart and I hover at the first boy's hand, looking between them, at the distance that could be closed with one simple stroke. It would be so easy to draw them together, to link them in a comfortable, safe embrace, but there's a funny feeling in my chest at the idea. It's up to me to make it happen. I could bring them together, and then they wouldn't have to be apart.

He's probably done it before. I think silently. It's a perfectly drawn world. There's other figures holding hands in the city, which is spanning about as far as my hands can reach in the bare dirt without touching the grass at the creek's edge. In the grand scheme of things, they're no different than any others, but for whatever reason it's more significant for him. Because they are set apart even in this terribly drawn picture. They don't know it, but they can feel it.

I start to draw the line and then change my mind hurriedly, scooping up some sand piled at the edges and smoothing over everything. The granules are soft under my hands and I cover it all without really feeling anything, not until my hand brushes over the two boys and the city is erased from sight, it only takes about twenty seconds to cover it all. Times change quickly, I think. I'm just drawing in some survivor camp dirt. Dan and I are so much more than the impulse of my hand, and I can pretend the worries of what could have been were little more than passing thoughts.

When soft footsteps approach from behind me I've just let the twig fall into the river, watching it float and drift away into the current. There's some dents and swishes in the dirt from being drawn in and covered over, and my eyes follow the path as the twig disappears from sight.

Without a word Dan sits down next to me, his breathing now even and his lowered hands still. I look over at him and he meets my gaze, nodding gently before shifting a bit closer, brushing our shoulders and filling the empty space next to me. Even though the drawing has been brushed away and hastily covered I still flush slightly at imagining him seeing it, casually brushing my foot over the upturned dirt. He doesn't notice.

I didn't know I'd been feeling empty, but now that he's here I feel warm. I have a million questions. What did they talk about, how is Dan feeling, so much else. But we just sit silently for a bit. It's like we're communicating without speaking, he's not moved but I can somehow feel what he needs me to do right now. The strangest thing is that I can tell he's okay. I'd worried endlessly that the reunion between him and Mr. Howell was going to be bad, but it wasn't, and it's not his mask being put up. He's not happy, not sad. He's just fine.

I turn my head, looking back and seeing that the camp is going about its day like usual. I don't know where anyone else is, Dan's father included, but it's okay. The miracle of the night is that Dan seems to be all right.

"So..." I ask him eventually. "What did you talk about?"

He shrugs his shoulders, pulling up some grass and twirling it between his fingers. He folds few blades over with his pointer and then looks up to meet my eyes, focusing on me completely before he decides to speak.

"Life things, mostly." He murmurs. "It's been such a long time, it was like talking to some acquaintance who knew my whole life story. He wanted to know how we got out of that fire, asked me if we get along and if I knew about the confederation."

I laugh drily. "Know about them." I repeat. "Yeah, you could say that."

It's funny to talk about the confederation like they're just people we passed one time in the street, a harmless passerby rather than the all-powerful entity that both runs the world and wants us dead. He laughs quietly, shaking his head.

"I was honest." He admits to me. "I told him I was immune and that they knew it too, I don't think he immediately believed me."

His head nudges my cheek. I can hear his breaths rising and falling, slow but even.

"No?" I ask him.

"No. He kept asking me other questions like, but they don't know exactly who you are, right? As if he could save me through denial. I didn't have the heart to tell him we've literally slept in one of their occupied buildings."

"Ah."

"So now he probably thinks I could die any day, and I've told him I hated and forgiven him all in the same day."

I raise my eyebrows, though I try not to make him aware that the expression's happened. "You forgive him?"

"Not much else I can do." He reminds me. His fingers reach out and pick up a twig absently, and my mind blanks when he begins to draw, new shapes covering over what I'd done without even knowing it. "Like I said, it was him, and yeah that's crazy, but it didn't feel like I was talking to the same man. We both have regrets and things we don't know about each other and it was kind of like drawing up a peace treaty or something. He says his biggest regret after the apocalypse began was that he'd said those awful things to me, especially when it became a real possibility that he'd never see me again."

"I'm proud of you." I say suddenly. "For talking to him."

He doesn't answer at first, drawing a hill with a tree at the top just to busy his hands but I see his smile when it appears- a soft, cautious one that maybe didn't want to happen, but did anyway. He shakes his fringe out of his eyes and draws a wobbly sun above the tree in his picture, then his head settles back on my shoulder.

"I guess it was worth it then."

My heart jumps at the thought of what those words mean, that it was Dan who decided to say them. As always he seems completely unaware that he's said something ridiculously meaningful and kind, which of course just makes it feel even more sweet. It's not like he needs validation from me or anything, but it seems important somehow to know that what I feel about this matters too.

I slide an arm around his shoulder, only realizing afterward how incredible it is that I can do this so casually and not feel any nerves or hesitation. It's small, it's subtle, but in this mutual silence, it goes unacknowledged because it no longer needs to be.

"This world is messed up." He says weakly. "It took a year of separation and thinking the other was dead to make us ever forgive each other, and the stories he told me- like really, I might as well consider him a different person."

I don't know if I want to know. I try not to think of all the stories we could tell as well. I shudder when I think of yesterday- was it yesterday? The moment I'd seen Dan pinned to the ground by the half life. I'd swung that axe without hesitation. The half-life's head was gone in an instant. It's scary how many things can happen in an instant. Smiles turn to frowns. Laughter to screams. People can die. And somehow the earth keeps on turning.

"Can you even imagine what it's like?" He whispers.

I look at his worn face and wandering hands, tracing over my knee in an absent motion.

"I think I have a small idea." I reply.

My arm is already over him, it takes little more than a turn of my head and a lean closer towards him before his curls are in my vision. I feel a jump in my heart but I ignore it, pressing my first neither drunken nor emotionally borne kiss into the side of his head, his hair tickling my nose.

I feel it. He goes still at the gesture, probably as surprised as I am that it's happened. He stills for the slightest moment, then relaxes, leaning into the touch, and relief washes over me.

His breath ghosts out in a warm rush over my skin and I close my eyes, letting the weight of his head and the sounds of the creek fill my senses. If someone walked by right now they'd probably think so much. I'd almost be inclined to let them.

When my eyes open again, I find that he's staring at me. It takes him a moment to realize I'm looking back and when he does, he doesn't break the gaze.

He looks at me worriedly and I wonder if he's afraid of what the gesture means, worrying about my impulse until he hesitates, touching a hand to the side of his head. Our faces are so close together I can see the lighter flecks of brown in his eyes, slowly processing that I've done this. That makes two of us.

I don't know what to say, so I don't. My mind is just reminding me of him kissing my forehead in the last apartment, not even looking nervous about it.

He looks away suddenly, abruptly sitting up with a strange look on his face. "Phil, I-"

He looks at me helplessly and I just raise my eyebrows. His eyes go back to the water, his head settles back down as he shakes his head. Whatever brutally honest thing he wants to tell me, it's obviously too much and he's changing his mind. 

"What is it?" I ask, genuinely curious at this point.

He mumbles something so quietly and angrily that it's lost in the sounds of the breeze and the rushing water, and I strain my ears, trying to make out what he's said.

"What?"

"I... nothing." He says more loudly, lifting his head closer to my ear. If I'm not mistaken his face is dangerously feigning composure, he looks visibly flustered. "You're too good for this world." He says instead. "You need to be more gloomy like me."

I shake my head bemusedly, poking him in the cheek which startles him a little.

"What's the fun in being gloomy? Don't tell me you're still on about how having low expectations makes you happier." I say lightly, hoping he feels the joke.

"Wha..?" He blinks a couple times, then lifts his head so that we're sitting at the same level now. "Oh. Y-yeah, I think having a nihilistic outlook on life can be very beneficial. It sets you up for minimal disappointment."

I giggle at how flustered he is. Apparently he wasn't expecting a face jab and is now trying to recover from being caught off guard, and it's so sweet that I want to squeal and squish his cheeks or something equally stupid. It's totally unexpected, but it makes me feel warm even after today's events.

"Those are some big words." I tease, and his ears go red.

"Do you need me to explain what they are for you? Because I'd be perfectly happy to enlighten your dumba-"

"Nah." I cut in. "So where do I fit in? Is that why you always frown at me when when I think of a better argument than you? Disappointment?"

He rolls his eyes, but I see a half-smile breaking over his lips. Relief gushes in at the sight of this curve, I almost want to touch it. "I do not always frown at you. It's my resting sad face, I thought you were used to it."

"Resting sad face huh?" I inquire, elbowing him in the side and then nudging my head against his shoulder, which is doubly a good idea because a) it'll annoy him and b) it's an excuse to rest my head on his shoulder instead.

He shoves me gently, but he's not pushing me off. In fact he actually lowers his shoulder so I can settle on it, touching my hairline with the edge of his chin. "Resting sad face." He explains. "It's like resting bitch face, except everybody sees you and instead of being put off by how angry and unapproachable you look, they look at you and think wow, that guy looks really sad. So actually when you 'win' a debate of ours-" he quirks his fingers in quotation marks and I snort. "-I'm not frowning at you, I'm just neutral, and you're confused."

"Right."

"That better not be sarcasm, Mr. Philip." He warns.

I grin, watching him scramble to avoid judgement.

"Mr. Philip?"

"Shut up."

"You woke up in a weird mood today, didn't you?" I ask him casually, and he shrugs. It's interesting how well he can play off anything, from anger to sadness to embarrassment. I think he realizes at the same time as I do how unlike him a cheeky nickname is, and I see him struggling to come back from it.

"It's like I just met my long-lost father or something." He shoots back.

I scoff, nudging him with my shoulder and feeling warmth spread through my body at the sight of the dimples reappearing in his cheek.

"You're being  very cheeky all of a sudden." I continue, a grin breaking over my face. "Maybe you're not a little ball of angsty moodiness anymore."

He lets out a choked sound of protest, jerking his head up as I chuckle at his reaction. I look down at my feet and the grass beneath my beat-up trainers.

"Yeah, like when my past and present align in perfect parallel."

"Funny." I scoff, "But not what I was talking about."

"The angst is a part of who I am." He says firmly. "Hide your vulnerability, and you're hiding ability to attach to anyone and ruin your life later."

"What a philosophy." I exclaim dramatically. "Guess I should just work extra-hard to make sure you don't hate me."

He looks at me in mock-horror. "You think I'm attached to you?"

"Oh, I think I fit in that category somewhere." I can't help but attempt to tack a flirtatious wink on at the end, though it probably looks like nothing more than a failed attempt to blink by the amused look he's giving me.

"Don't get ahead of yourself." He muses. "You aren't that special."

Even though he's joking my heart sinks a little, because with everything in me I wish I was. I look down at my hands, winding them together so I'm not tempted to grab his. "Well maybe I will be, eventually."

I hadn't meant to say it. Almost immediately after the words leave my lips I'm flushing horribly, internally mortified at being so stupidly forward. He considers this, looking a bit surprised at such a strange reply.

"I'm only joking Phil." He says confusedly, his voice clearly saying and I thought you were too. "I don't like to say how I feel about people generally but... you're pretty damn special to me, okay? You're a special fucking snowflake and I seem to depend on you a worryingly unhealthy amount."

I see his cheeks go red too and we both have to look away from each other, though I'm no longer uncomfortable. Now a little glowing ball is forming in my chest, warm and happy and threatening to beam through even if I've maybe just said too much, but he won't get it anyway. And here he is unexpectedly sentimental. He's evened it out, now we both can keep talking.

"Thank you." I mumble.

"Uh, yeah." He mumbles. "Don't mind me just pouring out my heart." He seems to hesitate for a second, but then slips his hand into mine discreetly. My breath catches. "I do that... from time to time."

It means nothing. Nothing.

"I'd be fine if it happened more often." I say quietly. "I really don't mind."

I don't know why I'm being so honest with him. If this gets any worse it's going to feel too personal, and then I'll be telling the truth. The whole truth. I don't know if I'm ready for that.

"I don't mind saying it either." He tells me honestly. "Internalizing everything is exhausting."

This surprises me. This unexpected, very real admission, the unprecedented way these last near two years have suddenly amounted into one sudden truth. It became a given a long time ago that repression and silence were Dan's coping mechanisms. He'd take the things that made him look and feel vulnerable and push them somewhere safe, blankness in his expression and anger in his eyes but he'd never let it affect me, involving me in only the ways that were most superficial.

"I don't want to lose you." He says abruptly. "Like if something went wrong, which it always seems to nowadays, I could just lose you forever."

"Where is this coming from?" I exclaim, wondering if this is what he actually thinks. "Did you have another dream?"

"No." He answers confusedly. "Why?"

"You didn't actually think I'd be that easy to lose, do you?"

"Is it really such a far-out thing to be afraid of?" He challenges. "God, I'm just a mess, today. It feels like I'm in immediate danger of losing you if I don't keep on alert at all times."

I look at him seriously, trying to figure out if that's what he really believes.

"You're not going to." I blurt. "I don't even know in what sense you're referring to losing me in but I'm not going anywhere."

"Don't make promises you can't keep." He says with a shrug. He drums his fingers on the back of my hand, keeping our hands woven for far longer than a reassuring squeeze, and nestles back into my neck. "The point is, it makes it easier to just say stuff like that to you. I bet it's some kind of therapy thing probably. Speak your mind. Make stuff happen."

"You certainly said everything to your dad." I voice.

He tenses, glancing back at where his father had been when they'd parted, the space vacant now.

"It should've been you reunited with your mum or dad." He mutters. "Not me with mine."

I feel a twist in the pit of my chest and shake my head rapidly, and I can see the guilt in his face before I've even fully turned to look at him. I drop his hand but they still stay close enough to brush, too tentative to stay held.

"No, stop." I chide quietly. "Don't say that."

"It's true though." He protests. "Your parents loved you, and every time I saw them your mum was so nice to me. Remember when we made that Christmas video, and she agreed to act as an ice monster in it?"

My eyes widen, the memory rushing back to me of something I haven't thought about in years. It's true that Dan and I made a Christmas special video series for my viewers on the internet, it was supposed to be like a sort of choose-your-own-adventure game, and in one particular scene, my mum had dressed up in white tinsel and a blue bopper to cosplay as an ice demon. The viewers had the choice to either make the demon tea or sacrifice Dan to her, and needless to say the results commenters left talking about that moment had been diverse, and very funny. It's another part of our shared past that I never think about, memories attached to my family that I've done my best to let go of.

"Y-yeah." I reply less steadily, thinking of my mum grinning at me after the scene had been shot, smiling over at Dan who'd been distracted at the time. She loved him, told me multiple times that she'd never seen a best friend of mine get on with me so well. She'd been the one to see him first the second time he ever visited, and it was the first time Dan hadn't been able to cling to his extreme shyness with her hanging around. She had that kind of effect.

"I forgive my dad, I do, but we're not the same people. I don't think we'll ever be close again." He admits.

"But you have closure." I remind him. He nods in agreement, brushing our shoulders as he shifts, watching a leaf fall off the nearby tree and drop with minute ripples into the stream.

"I have closure."

We while away an hour talking about pointless things, avoiding the topic of family and zombies and sitting about as close as he seems comfortable with, warding off the chill and again prolonging the time until we have to return back to reality. I can hear kids laughing in the distance, watching them kick a beaten football back and forth while their parents watch around a nearby campfire. The sky has gone navy, Dan's hair glints a greyish-black in the shadows, and I wonder again what we're going to do again, now that life has thrown us this strange curveball. For the first time in ages we've found a place that is truly peaceful, but we still have friends out there who need our help.

Let it wait another day. I decide. I feel guilt at saying so, but I just want Dan to be safe. That's all I really want. Maybe one day, he can even be happy.

We discuss whether or not this stream is the camp's water source. Decide it probably is. I stare at him when he's not looking. Time keeps moving. I thinking about how grateful I am for him. For the others too. I remember Dan telling me how much I actually meant to him, recall him last night coming to find me even though he should have stayed in the Medic while he was hurt, waking me up and kissing my head. I was awake for that, he probably knew it. He's comfortable enough to comfort me like this now, and it's a scarily real thing to realize how worse off I'd be if I didn't have him.

A little later the reverie is broken as Cat eventually jogs over, smiling at Dan gently and coming to a stop by my side upon finding us. She doesn't force Dan to talk about the conversation he had or what even came before it, in fact she doesn't even mention Mr. Howell. She seems determined to keep a light mood between us, because after handing us an apple each and messing Dan's hair, she sets a hand on each of our shoulders and prods is to our feet.

"Hey guys." She says, as way of greeting. "Come for a walk with me. I'm gonna force you to have some fun."

And as we're walking and a playful banter starts between her and Dan, I start to realize how much I actually appreciate her too. She makes everything make sense when Dan and I are both stuck, and I make a mental note to try and mention it to her soon.

Leave it to one person from the past to remind you of what you can lose.

~~~

"So why did we do this again?"

It's just as awkward as I'd imagined it to be. Dan and I are more hugging than anything, stepping back and forth as tinny music crackles out of a record player, the discus getting used to spinning after months of going without. I've already stepped on his feet twice and I'm so anxious about doing it again I keep forgetting what I'm doing, reminding me again that this is all just a mess.

"I used to teach my friends to do it in seventh grade." Cat tells us. "I wanted to take your mind off things, so what better way to do it?"

Dan and I are standing about two feet apart from each other, hands linked only by the ends of our fingers out of embarrassment while Cat hovers around us, holding a broom she took from camp to substitute for a partner. As it turns out, her idea for having "fun" was to drag us into the old broken down museum on site where the campers mostly just store the junk they collect, revealing the crate of records some inhabitant had discovered back in the early days here and left under a stack of stuff and the player that came with it, like some last-ditch attempt to salvage a generation gapped grunge aesthetic despite the outbreak of monsters literally tearing the city apart. Music playing and eyes full of purpose, she'd claimed she was about to teach us how to dance together, dutifully ignoring my withering look and burning cheeks.

There had, of course, been resistance. Dan had been way more interested in checking out the records themselves and I was stammering our excuses to avoid this kind of peer pressure, the idea of holding Dan's hand in front of her making me shake my head furiously when she was clearly just looking for an excuse to catch us touching again. But she death glared us and shot down every protest we could think of, even going so far as to step in front of the door and threaten to force us together with half-life strength because apparently, You guys haven't had the chance to do something even remotely carefree in so long. Drinking all night and passing out together doesn't count.

Until this point, I hadn't even imagined our best friend could be so stubborn, but unfortunately for us, life is full of surprises. And really, it's not that uncomfortable. I could hold Dan's hand forever if I had to, it's now more about trying desperately to prove to Cat that I'm not that easily subjected to her will even if I am cooperating.

"Right." Dan gets out. His cheeks are pink and I wonder if he ever even danced with his girlfriend back in high school. If anything he's more flustered than I am now, which is at least reassuring, but then we trip and he shoots me a look that looks so horrified I want to laugh in his face for thinking he's in any way offending me, like I'm gonna drop him in a second for allowing this to go on.

I don't know what rosy image Cat had in her mind when she envisioned forcing this, but the reality of the situation is that Dan and I are not very graceful partners. We're both an inch or so above six feet and I'm the clumsiest person alive, not at all helped by the fact that I've been put with him, making my mind go fuzzy and my chest flutter with rapid heartbeats. He finally relents and steps closer to me simply for the fact that we'll trip over each other's ankles if we don't, but it's a lot more hesitant than his head on my shoulder or my forehead kiss had been.

"No, no." Cat groans, hands on her hips and an amused smile quirking up her mouth. She sets the broom down, propping it in a corner and steps between us, sliding a hand around my shoulder and shoving me backwards. "You're overthinking it, Phil. The point of the dance is that it's a two-person thing. You go left foot, right foot, sidestep and switch." As she speaks she walks me through the motions, from behind her shoulder I see Dan smirk at me and I narrow my eyes at him, forcing him to muffle a snort into his palm.

In this moment I've forgotten entirely which foot is my left and which is my right, so I guess when her foot suddenly moves forward, stepping back just to avoid having her run right into me.

"See?" Cat says approvingly, nodding at me even though I just overthought the hell out of everything and stumbled everywhere to avoid stepping on her. "You're getting it. Just do the opposite of Dan when he steps, you're figuring it out!"

This is why I didn't drive a car back in the day. I think bitterly. That first night in the apocalypse had been the only time I'd ever actually used the car my parents had gifted me for graduating, and we all know how well that turned out, the escape in London ending in monsters and flames.

Dan grins at me, crossing his arms and eyeing Cat's pale hand holding mine, part of the dance position while shaking his head. "Aw Phil," he teases, quirking an eyebrow in mock sentiment and grinning, "that's a polite way of saying you suck."

I glare at him and he laughs, a real laugh escaping this time. I shake my head and face back to Cat, scratchy blues music echoing off the cluttered floor and high ceilings.

"You can't dance either." I snipe petulantly. "You suck too."

"You wish." Cat mumbles in my ear. My eyes widen and I very near fall right over in shock, her laughter drowning out my choked breaths.

I huff in frustration, focusing only on getting the motions right, sticking out my tongue at him when a turn points me at him again. He looks amused but awkward, standing there with nothing to do while I get a tutorial for my incompetence. Cat doesn't miss the look.

"No need to look jealous." She teases him, and I think my mouth drops, even as he flips her off and tugs me back to him anyway. Cat passes me off without any struggle, that stupid knowing look making me want to dissolve into the floor and disappear. Even though she's still smirking at me when Dan and I wander back together and try the steps again I think about that comment, noting that yes, indeed Dan is holding more closely to me now, one hand on the small of my back and guiding me through the steps. Yes, he's suddenly taking the dance a lot more seriously. No, he didn't deny what she accused him of.

By this point in our friendship, I obviously know he has a tendency toward jealousy but oddly, this reminds me of that moment in the confederation bunker, the moment where that girl had tried to yank me away from him and he'd pulled me closer, right up against him though there'd been space before.

I don't want to lose you.

It reminds me of that moment on the train where we'd been left alone after I'd been in conversation with Cat for a while, and suddenly he'd asked me if I fancied her.

Is that such a far-out thing to worry about?

He's silent, unable to look away from her eyes fixed on him. It's not at all what she's imagining but he doesn't know how to explain that, seeing how there's really no way to just go it's not special, Cat. It's just us.

"You know Dan." I remind her, deciding to speak up so he doesn't have to. "He's extremely competitive. Even if he completely hates what he's doing, the moment someone tells him he can't or he has a chance to prove he can do it, he does it."

It's not even entirely a lie. If dancing with Dan is out of my comfort zone, then it's probably way out of his.

"Right." Dan breathes, sounding relieved. When I've turned him away from her he gazes at me almost appreciatively, reminding me to make a mental note to harass him about this at a later point. "You just told us offhandedly that we can't dance, I can't exactly prove I can without a dance partner."

Needless to say we're still actually attempting to dance together now, so she just rolls her eyes and picks the broom back up.

"Wow me, then." She shoots back.

She changes a record as time goes on and we keep failing, but needless to say, I'm actually having a lot of fun doing it. The sun goes down and Cat lights candles, soon we're dancing in the dark, ignoring the steps and just laughing, singing along to the old lyrics we hardly even know and shoving each other, and it's so immature and freeing I can feel profoundly how nice it is.

Dan is less inhibited in the dark. He holds me less awkwardly and dances with Cat when she extends her hand mockingly to him like a gentleman, and when Cat takes both our hands and makes us spin around childishly he laughs, the sound breaking free of the confines of today, and I realize at once that my heart is actually trying to float out of my chest right here in this hundred year old church-style building stuffed with junk.

Dan leaves only once, and it's a while later when he steps out to go grab us jackets now that it's cooling down. My heart is still glowing as he shoots me a smile and promises to be back in minutes, the spring in his step making strange emotion swell in my chest.

I try to keep it in even as Cat, sits down to give us a break and the music keeps playing, but it's five minutes alone with that finally breaks the dam. I don't know how to explain to her how profoundly important it feels, but it must show on my face because it's only moments after I allow the last hour or so to catch up to me and the elation whooshes out in a breath that she looks up at me suddenly.

"Phil, you look like you've been punched senseless." She says bluntly. I shake my head and she laughs, grinning at me knowingly and making me well-aware of just how satisfied she is with the result of our forced enjoyment she's orchestrated. "Tell me you guys aren't secretly dating now and I don't know it." She adds, wandering over to sit next to me on a large crate.

I stare at her incredulously. She laughs and I realize she's joking but it hits a little too close to home and also seems to hint a genuine question beneath.

"Cat I think I love him." I choke. And before I know it I'm wrapped in her arms, falling forward into the offered embrace even though she's tiny compared to me.

She looks at me sideways, rolling her eyes. "Yes, idiot. You've liked him since before we met."

"No." I say helplessly. "Like I really, really love him. I'm in love. I can't do this anymore."

She pats my back sympathetically and looks out of the tall windows, the evening darker than usual with the heavy clouds.

"So... you're not together then."

I look at her incredulously, making her expression falter just a bit. "Did you think we were?" I retaliate. "Don't you think I would have told you?"

She shrugs, looking serious for the first time in a while. "I don't know." She says honestly. "You- you both have a tendency to hide what you're feeling when it comes to each other. I know it's just a guy thing to not talk about how great your friends are but I'm just the awkward third wheel, you know?"

"Cat- no." I say hurriedly. "It's not like that,"

"I'm a big girl, it's not like I'm hurt about it." She says pointedly. "It's more like I'm the one person without a person, if you follow me. Like Mark has Felix and you have Dan, Beard has his brother and Jamie has Michael. Forgive me for harassing the shit out of my two boys who I can confirm is at least one half smitten."

"Emphasis on the half." I remind her. "It's not a fun thing for me. This is my reality, wherever I like it or not."

"Maybe he likes you too." She reasons immediately. At this point, I'm practically expecting her to default to this line. "Do you ever think about that?"

I don't even give her a satisfactory answer, still feeling odd about hearing her confess to feeling like an outsider.

"I told him I loved him yesterday." I groan. "So damn obvious, couldn't have said it any less clearly because I'm an idiot, and he didn't even realize what I meant."

I hope she realizes what I'm saying. He doesn't. He doesn't and I know that. I don't want to discuss it, to confess to anyone anymore. I'm annoyed by how unfazed she looks, wishing she'd see my point.

"Guys are dumb." She replies carelessly. "You need to learn this, Phil."

"What the hell did you think you were doing?" I exclaim, referring to the last hour. "Were you hoping for some kind of show in which we declared our undying love for each other? Because that isn't going to happen."

"No." She says sincerely, which surprises me a lot. "I was honestly trying to help you have fun and take your mind off things. You know Dan's hiding a lot more than we can see, he met his dad today, for God's sakes."

"Then why were you teasing me so much?"

"Because I know the both of you." She says quietly. "I see it more and more everyday in the way he's slowly opening up and even admitting to jealousy. That boy loves you, you know he does. Tell him again."

My heart drops and I shake my head, hands on my cheeks as if to ward off the burn. "What are you expecting?" I ask, perhaps a touch too loudly.

Cat gives me a suspiciously satisfied look, silvery eyes glinting playfully.

"Just a little bit of service." She jokes. "Give the people what they want."

Her eyes go to the corner and I see Dan stepping slowly out from behind the pile of junk, holding a jacket and wearing another, looking confused as anything at walking in at the very end of a conversation.

"Wait." He blurts out confusedly, "what the hell are you talking about?"

"How irrelevant you are." She teases.

"We're not dancing anymore." I say firmly, cutting over her right away. I don't even want a hint of teasing at this moment. Not when Dan could have so easily overheard. If he'd walked in one second earlier, that would have been the end of that secret.

Dan nods agreeance. "No."

Cat rolls her eyes, but she doesn't seem to care. She gets up, moving easily to walk away.

"Where are you going?" I ask suspiciously. I feel like she's believing she's done all she can and is now planning to leave us alone, hoping some kind of fanfiction scenario will bud and take place. The look she shoots me tells me I'm right.

"I have to... talk to Felix." She lies, smirking at me and making me question just how innocent her intentions were.

I watch her go with an odd mix of emotions, trying to decide where exactly I went so wrong. I let her walk me right into this trap, and now Dan and I are alone again in a situation that seems far too intentional.

"Have fun." She calls over her shoulder. "There's still a bunch of records, keep practicing the dance."

We watch her retreat in mutually resigned silence.

"Oh, I'm sure we will." Dan mutters to me sarcastically. Realistically, there's definitely other things to do.

~~~

In the end, we do end up dancing again.

"We were so shit before." Dan had said offhandedly. He was sitting through the pile of junk very pointedly trying not to touch me, I was doing the same because we had to prove a point, of course we did.

"There's like fifty records in here." I'd replied casually.

"Hey, look at this." Had been the defeated line. "I know this singer. This record has some really good songs."

And then we'd stood up and woven our fingers together, Dan very carefully removing the first record and setting his new choice on. It's an excuse, entirely an excuse- but at this point I'm taking excuses.

We weren't planning on dancing. It's definitely just for something to do while the volume sounds way too loud in an echoey, giant building. Sitting would definitely be too awkward. We just learned the steps today, might as well practice them. We don't want to go to bed in the chilly tent yet.

It's not like it's been fifteen minutes, far more than enough time for me to pretend I want to stop. A new song is starting, and I focus extra hard on the lyrics in case I recognize them.

In the twilight glow, I see them. A voice sings wistfully.

I listen to the guitar picking in background, imagining hands on a weathered fingerboard and strings playing in a dim, broken down hall like this. Blue eyes crying in the rain.

The steps are still stumbly and we don't have Cat to guide us, making me realize with some resignation that I really didn't know what I was doing at all.

"This is stupid." Dan mumbles, but then the music picks up again. We've been making excuses this whole time, but this is the first one he's made that for all the world sounds too halfhearted to be genuine. The record crackles for a moment but then the sound goes smooth, and all of sudden he relaxes. I realize it's because by some miracle, it's that point on the record where we've reached a song he recognizes, and I pull him against me because it feels normal in the moment, gently circling his shoulder with my hand.

Might as well, might as well, might as well.

I try to imagine this in a context where he does love me. I don't even have to fabricate the feeling of a nervous heartbeat or the need to draw closer. You just need to say it again.

Because if I say it again with this feeling, who knows what could happen?

When we kissed good-bye, and parted, the record sings, I knew we'd never meet again.

The music is soft, melancholy. Light guitar strums and soft vocals swirl together to create a melodic hum in the silence, sounding as beautiful and as human as the singers' voices themselves. It's an older song, probably from when my parents were kids, making me wonder if they once danced to it too. I wonder if they danced together while they were in love. I guess it's different when there's no music anymore.

And yeah, it's a bit awkward dancing with Dan when a song is talking about kissing, but I can hardly complain because he seems so entranced. There's something freeing about being able to be close to Dan, dancing in wobbly circles along the floor and pushing thoughts of the apocalypse to the back of my mind.

"Left." Dan says softly. "Then right. It's more about reflex than memorizing, just follow me, you spork."

I blink. Our eyes meet, and suddenly the steps aren't clumsy anymore. The movements gradually start to make sense. I take a moment to listen more to the sounds and take this for what it is, and it becomes all the more beautiful. I'm tempted to joke back, saying something like since when did you become the dance expert? Somehow though, the words are lost in my mouth.

Dan hums softly, his head dipping so low it's practically laid against my shoulder. I want to push my nose into the soft curls and so with reckless abandon I do it, settling my face into his hair and hugging him close, feeling the warmth immediately. He leans right back, still holding my hand, stepping along gently in the same directions that I do as our minds now seem to follow the same wavelength of motion.

Love is like a dyin' ember. The player sings.

Only memories remain.

I feel the song in my heart. It speaks of love and loss in a way that feels so profoundly real in this moment in time, beautiful and yet bittersweet and tinged with the oddest dregs of nostalgia. I feel a tug in my chest, Dan's fingers closing in my hand and squeezing gently.

We're just practicing an innocent dance.

"Damn you and your obscure music taste." I sigh, and he just shakes his head slightly, fingers still tapping out the beat on my shoulder. Memories are all we have now of everything that came before this, it seems oddly fitting to hear this out loud.

"Shhh." He whispers fondly, seeming to forget his own comment from earlier.

And through the ages I remember

He lifts his head and leans back a little, my arm around his back and held at his waist, his hand that's not in mine moving up and settling on my chest.

Blue eyes crying in the rain.

I look into his eyes. He looks into mine. Reality ceases to exist for a moment, I see nothing but content in his smile. His face is warmly lit in the candlelit glow, his cheeks cast in shadow, and his hand comes up to stroke the side of my cheek only briefly. It's brief, but it's enough. I close my eyes for a moment.

Someday, when we meet, way off yonder

We'll stroll hand in hand again.

My heart is fluttering in my chest. His hand is still held tightly to mine. He rests his forehead against mine and I make no move to back away from it, my breath slowing to near nothing as I take him in, hearing him hum along and then sing next line softly, his voice tentative.

In the land that knows no parting

He looks up at me and draws back but we're still holding on to each other, nothing more than a dance unable to be anything less. That just happened.

Blue eyes crying in the rain.

With that line, suddenly I feel. I feel so many things at once. It's like a dam has burst somewhere inside of me and it's all spilling forth and brimming up, welling in my eyes and making my heart swell. It feels like we're under a spell of some kind. The music echoes off the high ceilings and the dull furniture suddenly doesn't look so drab, his eyes linger on my less than extraordinary face like I'm something beautiful and I'm hypnotized.

It's intimate. In a way I've never felt before we're close it seems not just physically, but in emotion. It's not just a stupid dance in an old half-caved in memorial anymore but a secluded universe that's just me and dan.

Does he feel it?

I try to look sideways enough to see his face, but it hurts my neck and I find that I can't. Screw this pretending. I'm pretending to pretend.

"You're my best friend." I tell him quietly.

And the I step back, leading him away and twisting my hand so that I've spun him, hearing him yelp and then laugh as I twirl him him around with a flourish of my hand. The reaction makes my heart leap. He twirls almost elegantly, catching on fairly fast so that even though it begins clumsy, the end of the motion completes with him spinning right back with his back against my chest, giggling and shaking his head at the ridiculousness of it all.

He stumbles for a second and then laughs at me. From behind, I wrap him in a hug.

"Did you just." He teases cheekily. "Wow, Phil. I'm ravished."

He falls against me so that I'm stuck struggling to hold him, my clumsy legs scrabbling and my feet fumbling out from under me and I nearly fall to the ground, shouting at him to stand up again before he knocks us both over.

"You won't drop me." He protests. I make a dubious sound and look at him doubtfully.

"I'm the clumsiest person alive!"

"You won't drop me." He raises his eyebrows, voice hushed like the perfect fairytale scenario, and conveniently that's when my arms finally give way.

I squeak in shock at the sudden loss of balance, desperately looping my arms around his middle before I fall backwards from the added weight, catching myself with one foot but then tripping again and finally hitting the ground. I've saved him from falling but it means he's landing on top of me, all of his weight thudding down.

I can see your star in heaven

"Phil!" He shouts, the music fading hazily as he crumples over my chest, laughing against me.

Blue eyes crying in the rain.

I roll to the side, the floorboards dirty and cold against my cheek. He flips over and hugs me tight, of course muttering irritably about at least trying to stay upright, but I just wrap my arms around him, pushing his hair back from his face and making him quite abruptly look at me.

"I had absolute faith in you!" He protests, slapping my chest lightly and wiggling in my hold to pull me down with him. "You're supposed to hold us up, not blunder to the ground."

"I don't see you letting go of me." I mumble, letting his curls tumble between my fingers.

He sighs, smiling halfheartedly with a dazed look on his face as they bounce back into place. "I don't see you letting go of me."

"I wouldn't." I reply. "Probably couldn't, even if I wanted to."

He shakes his head. "A shame."

I'm staring up at him completely transfixed, the next song already starting up. I want nothing more than to tilt his head up and press my lips to his right now, so much love and gratefulness for his simply being here overwhelming me suddenly to the point that I can scarcely contain it. I don't know exactly how he feels about me, but at least I know that doing this is okay. What we just did is okay, I can see it.

"Yeah."

We hold each other silently for an unusually long time, something about the mood erasing the typical oddness. My heart seems to float free of itself and merge with his to form a single, steady rhythm, perhaps it was always meant to happen to a boy who just can't let go. How long have we been staring into each other's eyes now? I can't even tell how much time has actually passed.

Tell him again! My mind shouts forcefully.

"I love you." I blurt.

It's so soft and so quiet and I'm not sure I meant to say it, but it's true as anything and the thought seems to voice itself on its own accord. Every time I say it aloud it's like a weight off my shoulders, knowing he can hear it even if he doesn't know the full weight of it.

He stills, and I know it's because he wasn't expecting it. I've already said it to him before but the mood was so different, my tone was so different. The first could have been dismissed as platonic, but this one has just been voiced after we danced.

"What do you...?" His mouth is opening and a sound escapes him but I can tell he doesn't know what to say, so I let go slightly and decide to interrupt him. I realize with a jolt that I've given him no context.

"-I'm so glad I met you." I go on. "You're the most important person in the world to me right now and you'll probably always be. So it's okay for me to say that, right?"

He just stares at me.

"I mean when we were talking earlier, you said you were terrified of losing me. I don't know how else to say I'm not going anywhere, and I'm sure you know how that works."

I can tell he gets it, but he still looks uncomfortably stunned.

Nervousness returns. "Dan?"

He blinks. "Oh."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. It's all right." He says softly, not meting my eyes. "It's fine. Just wasn't expecting to hear that while I was uh, laying on the floor."

My face heats up and I feel like an immense idiot, no drunkenness to dismiss any of it this time.

"Sorry." I manage to mumble, "that probably sounded really weird."

"No, it didn't," he assures me, shaking his head, "I just wasn't expecting it."

"You obviously know what I mean." I say weakly, even though at this point I'm lying. "I'm not trying to be weird and say you're more than a friend to me, you're just really really important and I don't know how to voice it any other way because honestly I do love you in some way, shape or form and I'm never gonna pretend that-"

"Okay." He says stiffly. He lets go of me suddenly and backs up to sit against the wall a few moments later, my heart sinking at the obvious discomfort. I jerk back as if I've been hit, stung by his tone which is strangely flat and cold when it had held warmth only moments before.

"Yeah." He adds. "We're friends. I get it."

My heart does a strange swoop in my chest. That response could have two possible meanings, and I have no idea which one it is.

The statement sits with me oddly and I frown at him, worry prominent on my features. "Is there... something wrong with that?"

He stares at me, embarrassment creeping into my conscious at the blank expression I'm met with.

"No." He replies flatly. "We're great."

He doesn't sound great. I look at him with my heart in my throat, begging for him to smile and the warm feeling to return. "What did I do?"

At first he looks like he's not going to answer, but then the fire dies down and a strange calm crosses his expression.

"You don't have to justify everything you do or say, for fuck's sake." He points out. "I get it, we have a friendship. I like this friendship, l-love it even." He takes a deep breath and looks at me awkwardly, cheeks darkening at expression this much sentiment openly. It's the first time I've ever heard him mention us and love in the same sentence. "Stop with the whole dismissal thing. I know what you mean, okay?"

It makes my eyes widen when I realize his thoughts are moving in an entirely different direction, shame welling in me at assuming he'd jump to judging me for saying something confident people say liberally all the time.

"I'm not being dismissive!" I protest. "I'm just-"

"Yes you are."

My eyes widen. "I'm not!"

"You are." He insists. "You wouldn't hesitate to tell me anything if it didn't matter. You're allowed to be meaningful."

It's a weird argument to have after just previously having been wrapped around each other. I shake my head.

"Do you always tell me all the things that matter to you?" I retaliate.

"Of course not!" He exclaims, apparently not realizing what he's saying. "I'd sound like a sentimental idiot if I- the thoughts in my head aren't worth anything."

I refuse to let him dodge around this.

"Do you think I'm a sentimental idiot?" I ask him, just to point out how hypocritical he's being.

"Yes." He deadpans, but I can tell he's just using his sarcasm to buy time.

I roll my eyes. "That's a double standard."

"I don't make the rules."

We stare at each other for about three seconds before he shoves me, uncomfortable with the fixation.

"Oh, come off it Phil." He prods. "Obviously you're not. What you do is a good thing."

I smirk, crawling back over to him with a renewed confidence. He kicks me playfully, but lets me sit down next to him all the same.

"So what's the truth, then?" I ask.

He raises his eyebrows. "What truth?"

"Am I-" I poke him in the cheek, he grabs my arm and tries to keep me back, "-a sentimental idiot or not?"

He places his chin between his finger and thumb, detective-style. "Hmm. Guess we'll never know."

"C'mon." I plead, a grin quirking up the corners of his mouth despite his best efforts as I wrap both arms around one of his, very deliberately and annoyingly pulling him closer. "Tell me."

"Never."

"Tell me." I repeat. "Tell me, tell me, tell m-"

He cuts me off suddenly, leaning forward and pressing his lips to my cheek, nearly knocking us both over with the way I'd already been holding to his side. His lips are softer than I thought they'd be, warm, making me gasp in shock despite myself and him to laugh against my skin.

"Shut up." He mumbles, laughter and fondness tinting his voice. He turns his head so that we're facing each other, so even though the night is getting dark, he can probably still see the shock on my face.

He gets his wish, the words leaving my brain so quickly it nearly gives me head-rush. It hits me suddenly, how not normal this is.

When did it become so comfortable to be like this? Where we could press kisses to the others' faces and hands, to hair and cheeks and foreheads? This is just suddenly happening, something we started together, as if one night of being drunk was all it took to set some unspoken intimacy free.

And now his nose is inches from mine, eyes soft and bemused under a sheepish expression.

I burst out laughing and grab his face before he can pull back, squishing his cheeks with my palms and earning me an indignant sound. He tries to back out of it but I pull him back over, scrunching the corners of his mouth into a ridiculous imitation of a smile.

"Happy." I quip. I turn his lips down. "Sad."

"Idiot." He mumbles through pursed lips, cheeks squashed so that he looks annoyed but adorably unthreatening.

"You love me." I joke, then realize what I've said.

He raises his eyebrows and stops resisting, looking down at me in surprise, I think.

I wait for a retort but I don't get one, he just stares blankly at me with squished cheeks, making me scramble to come up with something that excuses what I've just carelessly said.

"Maybe." I blurt. I realize this is no better. I drop my hand, heart beating faster in my chest.

"You're such a strange person." He replies with the ghost of a smile, but the feeling of his lips lingers on my cheek. "I just finished saying not to dismiss anything." My hands still have his face held closely to me, his body turned at a slightly awkward angle since we're sat side by side, and I don't what it is that has my head lowering.

"Yeah?"

I look down at his mouth in the low lighting, eyes flicking down involuntarily to his lips. I think the gaze lingers a little too long. He sees it. My gaze immediately goes to the rest of his face, terror washing through me at the realization of what I must have looked like, not at all helped by how still he's gone.

Every touch we've shared floats about my memory. Every awkward glance, unfinished conversation. I wonder if it would really mean much to just do it. Just once if never again. His eyes cast down to my face and he looks at me fearfully, but he doesn't move away. We're just staring in the near-silence.

Then I stop thinking entirely.

"Yeah." He mumbles.

His palm moves to the side of my face, and before I can think about it, I'm leaning in. He's turned his body towards mine, my mind barely registering what's happening before his eyes fall shut and his breath ghosts my mouth.

My heart stutters in my chest.

Crash.

Bright orange light leaps up close to the window outside, washing the entire room in a flash of brightness suddenly. It's so sudden, loud and jarring, that I jerk away from Dan in shock, his wide eyes and still-flushed cheeks staring back at me. His eyes are wide, and he seems to forget the danger for a moment, hands hovering midair.

My heart is pounding. There's no way to pretend  I've missed this, he's staring at me in disbelief.

He gapes me. "Phi-"

Then an explosion of dust and splinters erupts overhead, an entire beam of the ceiling thundering to the floor to our left. I'm on my feet in seconds, yanking him out of the way as chunks of plaster rain down where we'd been sitting with a hand clutching his arm.

We stumble out into the middle of the floor space, the bit of area Cat had cleared away earlier so we could dance now clouded with the dust in the air. I'm coughing- trying to rid my lungs of the clouded air- but alive.

My fingers are still clutched tightly to Dan's arm, both of us tense as we wait for another attack. The fire outside is still blazing through the window, and when I look closer, my heart drops at the sight of people running, chaotic silhouettes in the dying light. Something bad is happening.

Inside the building, it's silent. Nothing punctuates the air save for Dan and I's shaky breaths and the sound of granules of plaster pattering down.

We wait a moment longer, but nothing happens.

"What's going on?" Dan whispers, the sound like shattering glass after the tension of the silence.

I wonder if we should run. I wonder if I need to shield him with my body.

He slips his gun out of his pocket with trembling hands, eyes darting around. Nothing- person or otherwise, has intercepted us yet, but for whatever reason, it only feels like a matter of time.

"I don't-"

A crack sounds directly above our heads, I just barely have time to register the feeling of  Dan pushing me before I'm stumbling back and the entire ceiling support crumbles down, bringing down tonnes of wood and stone crashing in between us.

"Dan!" I scream before my heart drops in my chest.

"Phil!" He shouts back. He doesn't sound hurt but he does sound panicked, I can't even see him over the barrier between our voices. Immediately I start climbing, nearly falling over the shifting and toppled rubble. Above my head there's nothing but broken beams and starry sky. The record isn't playing anymore.

A dread has sunk deep into my stomach, the knowledge of just how many possible people there could be that are doing this. The list is short.

I'm almost over the top of the pile before I feel a hand yank me back, a scream leaving my lips at the fall. I'm stopped just before my back hits the the ground and I immediately whip around to fight my attacker, only come face to face with Cat's pale and terrified expression.

"Phil!" She exclaims, voice full of relief even as I'm trying to back out of her hold. Clearly she ran back to the building as soon as the danger started, probably worried we wouldn't know, but now she's holding me back from the single person I'm fearing for. "Where's Dan?!"

She catches the look on my face and comprehension dawns, her hand releasing me immediately.

"Over there." I gasp. "Cat, what's going on?"

"I was just walking back to the tents when-"

I don't even stop to hear her answer, though, sprinting forward and climbing back over the splintered wood and debris. I can hear voices above my head and that spurs me into panic, because they are neither familiar nor friendly. It drives me to disregard my carefulness entirely, scraping my hands off broken wood in my haste because there's more than one of them, and they're probably closing in on this very place.

There's a slab of stone barring my way and I have to jump to get over it, arms straining as I cling to the side before pulling myself up and over. As soon as I see Dan I gasp and take the remaining space at a jump, and just as I do, I catch sight of a man watching us from a standpoint on the roof.

Fear strikes me like an axe.

Dan pulls me to my feet the moment I've landed, immediately my hands go to his face and my eyes widen when my left hand comes away warm.

"You're hurt." I breathe, his eyes glowing in the flickering light outside that I now realize are flames. My hand starts to shake as it comes away covered in blood, he flinches as I draw back my touch.

"I'm fine." He says determinedly. There's a gash on the side of his head, cut from his hairline to his cheek that he must have gotten when something struck him as he pushed me, and it's oozing blood slowly. "It looks worse than it is, I promise."

"It's not fine! You're bleeding!" I cry.

Another explosion rocks the building from behind and it sends us stumbling back, my head snapping around wildly. The man on the roof is gone.

"What's going on?" I ask. Even to me my voice sounds helpless. I know he doesn't know any better than me.

"It's the confeds. I know it's them." Dan says darkly. "We need to get the hell out of here."

He starts to pull me towards the outside but my eyes are on the broken beams on the floor.

"Cat's over there." I protest. "She came back for us when the fire started."

"Dan! Phil! Run!" Cat screams. I can hear men shouting on the other side of the destruction and heading in our direction, and even though I know they're here for Dan I hesitate, terrified for her.

"Cat! Come over here-"

"Go!"

Her voice is so full of fear and the approaching voices only grow louder. The tone is urgent and that's what makes Dan turn, gripping my arm with wide eyes cast behind.

"She'll be okay." Dan assures me. It doesn't even sounding like he's addressing me, though. He knows what she wants, he's actually trying to convince himself. "They're not here for her. She's just going to hold them off- she's a half life. She's almost invulnerable. She'll be fine."

But the terrifying thing is that they are after him. His immunity is so valuable that they're used explosives to try and drive us out, and now we could be running right into them, but at this point running is all we can do. My feet echo loudly across the dusty wooden floors and I'm coughing at the amount that's still clogging the air. All I know is, we have to escape the building.

It only takes moments to get to the outside but it feels like hours. While most of the men had come in from the other side there were a few that obviously expected us the other way and I can hear them shouting from the other side of the building, giving us mere minutes to get away before they'll inevitably converge on us.

The night is dark. I gasp in a breath of fresh air as we make it out into the open, bursting forth from the dusty room and onto the lawn, and we don't even stop to catch our breath before Dan is running.

"Hey!" A deep voice booms. I don't even stop to see who's shouting, turning and running away with wet grass under my feet that slips and slides and tries its best to trip me. The creek and the tents just up ahead but it's alight in fire, I can see smoke ahead and an awful surreality hits me that the camp is under attack.

I thought I'd forgotten the feeling of being hunted. I hate it, the helplessness and sheer desperation that when flight is the safer of two options. Gunfire rings out around us but no one seems to actually see we've escaped, tearing apart the museum building which is reflecting the burn of a fire ahead.

Confed trucks line the edge of the camp. We see a shed against the border and sprint to get behind it, bursting through a clump of trees and slapping aside branches until my back is pressed flat against the rusted metal wall, my breaths coming in gasps and Dan's body next to me. Only just in time, too. Only just after we've dived out of sight a group of soldiers goes running by, barking out orders and rushing for the building we'd just been in with guns trained. All I can think about is Cat, my heart dropping instantly when I se the building erupt in fire. Even from this distance I can feel the wash of heat.

"We have to get back in the camp." Dan whispers. "Mark and Felix are still in there. My dad is still in there."

"Oh, god." I choke. It hits me how many people are caught up in this situation. This isn't just about us.

"Get your axe out." He urges. His eyes are on the fire and I know all he can think about is Cat, all we can hope for is that she made it out somehow.

I slide out my weapon but my hand is so tense the knuckles are already going white, sheer uncertainty crashing down on me and panic at where to go.

"Do we go in?" He asks uselessly. "They're probably going to kill people if they don't give them information."

We can't turn ourselves in. I won't put Dan through that suffering. I don't know what they want to do to him, and I refuse to find out.

"I won't let them hurt you." I snap, "don't even think about just running out there."

"Don't you." He snaps. And though the time is inappropriate, his glare reminds me of right before the explosion. With so much raw feeling in his eyes, I'd actually leant to kiss him. The emotion is still there, his burning gaze at the sheer inhumanity of these people sparking a fire in my heart. Maybe if we survive this, I can do this one thing.

"There's no way we can get past those trucks." I mumble. "We have to run when we see someone's backs turned."

"Then I say we run now."

It's stupid. It's reckless.

We run straight for the flames.

One man sees us when we burst past the the trucks. I don't see his hair colour, even register the sound of his voice. He's only managed to draw his gun on us and shout in alarm at recognizing our faces before Dan's gun is raised and a shot cuts the air, the attacker crumpling to the ground.

I gasp, but Dan's face is an expression of stone.

He's killed twice now. I remember the first time, he'd cried and been a mess of guilt when he realized it. There's no mercy this time.

The camp is in chaos when we burst in.

Several trees have been set on fire, which accounts for the flames we'd seen. The entire forest behind the park is ablaze, the highway suddenly visible in the dark. It casts twisted, dancing shadows on the grass, voices booming in the air demanding they hand us over amidst shouts of anger and fighting.

"Mark!" I shout desperately. "Felix!"

We're looking for our friends' tents as we watch the fight go on around us. There aren't many confeds but they're being fought by determined campers, so many missing I can't stand to think where they'd be. I can't see them anywhere.

I dodge around errant runners and hide behind tents to avoid being seen, desperately hoping to catch sight of our friends and Dan follows. I know they'd all stick together like they've done this whole time, and my stomach churns at the thought of what these people might want to do to Jamie or Micheal. We can't let them be taken by the government. Not to be used against us. We have to get out of this camp so they leave these people alone, but we can't let ourselves be captured while we're trying.

It's horrific. The camp is collapsing, people are fighting for us when they barely know who we are. It's because of us that the government is coming after these people, who are driven by Dan's weapon against the confederation that could lead to apocalypse end. The guilt that they have to cling to that and risk their lives is unreal.

It's hardly a surprise when our luck runs out. We got in fine, but there's almost no one out here but soldiers, tearing the place apart to try and see where we are.

Our friends aren't in their normal tents. They're not by the stream or fighting in the clearing. There's on,y one place left to check, we've already lingered far too long.

And when we get to the med tent, it's empty. We burst in hoping to see them hiding out, but only moments after we've stepped in a shadow crosses the door way and the room gets thrown into dark.

"Well, well, well!" A voice shouts suddenly. Dan whips around in shock and the flames outside leap up just in time to throw into visibility the profile of a confederation man, drawing his gun on us before we can think and laughing maniacally, like he's about to cause our deaths.

"Just the boys I'm looking for." He chuckles, looking pleased. "Happy to see me?"

His silvery weapon and outfit look almost exactly like Wirrow's, black hair combed back on his head and a face that looks evilly attractive, the kind of man that deceives with his looks. His expression is twisted, gleeful at discovering us, almost as if he's known where we are this whole time, and had only been hoping to corner us in place.

He takes a step forward, daring us to try anything as his gun points at my heart.

"You didn't think we'd follow you after you killed one of our guys and got away in the truck?" He spits, stepping in closer. "Well, guess what. We found you."

He snatches the front of my shirt before I can blink, yanking me against him as Dan shouts out in anger.

"Make one wrong move and I kill him." He snaps at Dan. Terror bursts in my chest and I fight to get away from him, but the man drives the gun in harder when I try to escape.

"They didn't send in some stupid half life this time either." The man growls. "I get the job done whenever the man asks me to, and in return I get to do whatever I want to you."

Whatever I want.

My mind blanks, and suddenly I'm in the confederation bunker again, the girl's hands and lips on me, whispering, I always get what I want, honey.

"Let go of him." Dan threatens darkly. He points his gun at the guy's head, but the man doesn't flinch.

"Why, sweetie?" The man mocks. "Are you jealous?"

My mind goes back to the moment during my dance with Cat, a disturbing parallel.

"Yes." Dan snaps sarcastically, pushing the man's arm away as I yank my hand back. To my surprise the man lets me go, watching us amusedly like we're his own little show.

He takes in Dan and smirks at him, like he's said something really cute. Maybe it's just because he has us cornered, but dread sinks into my chest at the thought of what Wirrow said he could do to us in return for Dan's capture.

I realize why he's let me go so easily. It's because he knows something we don't, his eyes on Dan hungrily and leaving nothing to the imaginations.

"What?" Dan snaps. The fire behind him casts a shadow across his face, and his gun still isn't any lower.

The man ignores him, nodding at his protective hand on my chest and shaking his head at me as if Dan's being a pouty toddler.

"Kind of a pretty boy, isn't he?" He shoots. "Working his way out of everything. You've escaped too many times for the confederation's liking. It makes us look bad. But this time, there's no one around to save you."

"Fuck you." Dan spits.

"Ooh. Pretty and touchy." The guy exclaims. "Is that an offer? You should be flattered. I'm telling you you're extremely hot when you're angry."

My eyes widen, and so do Dan's.

"Let us go." Dan demands more forcefully, shoving the gun at the man and finger hesitating on the trigger. The man raises his eyebrows at that, looking practically offended.

"You definitely don't want to kill me. I have backup." He threatens. "You don't get to try anything, because the moment you try to kill me, I'll radio in for them to take out our hostage."

"Who?" Dan snaps.

"Why, your dear old daddy, of course." The man growls.

My heart drops in my chest. I see Dan's face go white, his eyes screwing up with blind rage at the injustice of all of this.

They have his father. His father. Manipulation just to get what they want. If they can't have me, they have one other thing that will make Dan compliant.

"What are you doing to him!?" Dan screams.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" The man teases. "The confederation has him, that's all I'm saying. So you'd better cooperate for the sake of him, and for Phil."

"You don't have to do this." I protest wildly. "Let his father go, leave this camp alone. No one can force you to kill innocent people."

The guy rolls his eyes. "The ol' guilt trip doesn't work on me, buddy. I work for Wirrow, he's given me good cause to want to find you."

"I'll fucking kill you!" Dan gasps, raising his gun at the same time the other man does with rage burning in his eyes, my mind racing with the terror that someone is going to die.

"After we kill him we'll be sure to let both of you stay separate while we try our newest creations on Phil." The guy taunts joyously. "We're making new zombies now, the same way they evolved animals back in the day. Your cure will be nothing against the growth of the confederation."

Dan doesn't lower his hand. "I don't give a fuck!"

"Well you will if it's for Philly." The man says decidedly.

His hand snaps up to shoot me, anger blazing on his face. Dan's eyes go wide but there's not enough time for him to get in the way, my feet stumbling back in a last ditch attempt to save myself before I'm killed and Dan's captured and in this moment, all I can think is, this is the end.

But before he can shoot me, there's a thud from behind him and suddenly his eyes are falling shut, his form going limp as he collapses to the ground, knocked out. The gun clatters to the ground.

For a moment I'm just stunned into stillness, watching the body twitch and a bit of blood ooze from the point of impact.

Then I see Cat, her face and arms scraped but her hand clutching  a chunk of splintered wood triumphantly, eyes full of terror at what that man had almost done.

Dan freezes, I nearly gasp out of the sheer relief at seeing her okay. She's saved us, and for a moment we just gape in silence at his collapsed form. So much for his backup.

I glance back up at Cat, a grin on my face as I move to pick up my axe, which I'd dropped when the man went to shoot.

"Holy shit!" She exclaims loudly. She rushes forward and throws her arms around us, kicking the confederation man's head as she passes and gripping us tight for a brief second. The board is dropped out of her hand, she laughs disbelievingly.

"I just used my half-life senses to find you again." She shouts, nerves apparently affecting her emotions as she looks around for other dangers. "They've evacuated almost everybody from the camp. We've gotta get you out of here."

I pull my arms around her and hear her whisper into my chest, grinning weakly but with a shudder in her words. "I'm so glad you're okay."

"I'm so glad you are." I gasp. "If you hadn't sensed our blood just then he probably would have killed us."

"They have my dad." Dan chokes, still shaking hard from the encounter. "That man said the confederation has my dad. We can't just leave him-"

"He lied, Dan." She says immediately. "They don't know he's your father. I can sense him even from here. He's okay now, we just have to get out of here."

"Wait, he's fine?!" I exclaim. I almost want to cry from the relief of it. I don't benefit care that the man lied to manipulate us. Dan will be all right as soon as he sees his father. We don't have to live with the guilt that people in the camp were killed, they were all left alone, are all okay.

She nods. "He's probably worried sick about Dan, though."

"What's going on?" Dan protests. "Cat, why is the camp under-"

"Just come on." She says hurriedly. With the urgency in her tone, we're reminded that it's not all okay yet. "Keep your weapons drawn. I'll watch out for you."

I roll my eyes and shove her for her bossy tone, but there's no real fire behind it. I'm still adrenalized by that brief but near lethal scare, hands shaking around the handle of my axe and hand itching to hold onto Dan's, but in the grand scheme of things, we're fine. The man only managed to threaten us. Sure we were scared, but cat sensed us so fast the encounter feels more like a brief nightmare than something that was real. That same man is on the ground. It's reassuring.

We step outside the door of the tent and immediately it's like a silence drapes over us. The camp has gone dead quiet save for the forest burning, but it's like by Cat taking out the leader, everyone on the opposition has given up.

"Well," Cat mutters to Dan, "that's convenient."

Dan doesn't answer and I realize just how scared he'd actually been. The fight has drained out of him and now he's just clutching his gun. My heart twists at the sight of his shaky form and without really thinking about it I stride forward and take hold of his hand, slotting our fingers together and gripping even as Cat's eyes go wide.

"Lets go see your dad." I whisper. I ignore the curious look she's shooting me and focus on his hand, only looking up when Cat checks to make sure the coast is clear before going back to us. Dan relaxes and holds carefully back, leaning into my side and peering out at the now deserted grounds.

We should know by now it's never that easy, but the clarity is deceptive.

"Oh, wow." I hear Cat say softly. I blush at the knowledge of what she's taking about, situating my axe in my free hand before turning to face up to her.

She looks far too amused for the situation. My heart hasn't even settled down yet.

"I don't know what you expected, Cat." I say teasingly.

"Would it be wrong to say I fucking knew it?" She jokes, and Dan sputters in disdain.

"There's nothing to know."

Another two steps. She shakes her head. "Sure there isn't."

"Excuse me?!" Dan and I both sputter at the same time, and she looks up at us both with a grin.

She's met our eyes for only a second, mouth quirking up to laugh in disbelief at how honest our display is when suddenly, I hear the bang echo through the air.

At first, there's nothing but a sudden silence. Dan glances at me in confusion.

Then, I gasp as Cat's expression goes blank. Her knees buckle from underneath her and I can see her eyes fall shut before a choked sound leaves my lips. I can see dark colour blooming on the side of her head, and then she falls to the ground, motionless.

That's when I see the man.

My heart stops in my chest. The ground quickly darkens with red.

My throat closes. "Cat."

Dan is much more vocal than I am.

"NO!" He gasps, diving forward to reach her.

Blood is pooling around her, her eyes open but not seeing.

The words have barely left his lips before a hail of bullets rain just over our heads, not an actual attempt to kill us but a threat. If we stay, they will shoot us.

The world goes into slow motion. Black and white. A scream claws at my throat.

I lurch forward and grab Dan's hand, yanking him backwards. He's pulling and screaming until he meets my eyes and then-

And then we're running. We're running and we can't look back.

Get out of the camp. Get out of the camp.

We run from med tent. Away from the fires. Past the collapsed museum. I feel like I'm in an illusion. Time isn't real. Nothing matters. I'm nothing more than pounding feet, and pain. Pain like something I never thought I could feel or imagine, laughs echoing in my head of Cat's final moments of joy.

I tracked you by sense again.

My eyes are a blur and my breaths are heaving and I barely even feel the bullets whistling by my head. We're being followed on all sides and the exit from the camp is already rushing past us, the same place we met Dan's dad and may now have lost him forever.

A section of the archway above our heads crumbles down and slams into my back as we're running. A sharp pain rakes the skin of my back, sending me stumbling.

"No!" The scream is so loud and desperate, it takes me a dizzy moment to realize it's Dan before the stone is lifted off my back and I'm being pulled to my feet. I hear the pain in the word. He's not going to lose me. He's holding onto me so tightly I'm using the pain to grip on reality.

There's a sting between my shoulderblades but I don't have time to stop and investigate, the sounds of barking voices announcing there's more confeds, and they're after us.

How could we have been so stupid to think they'd let us go. How did we not know they would find us?

We burst out and turn down an alleyway, almost missing the the door that swings open in a shop. Even though stopping threatens death I'm yanked back as a frantic face meets my eyes and a hand grips Dan's wrist, pulling us back as thundering feet pursue from the next street over.

"Quick!" A woman's voice snaps suddenly. "If you want to live hide in here!"

We're desperate, complying without question. The strange woman yanks us in and slams the door, locking it and shutting the curtains. Eyes peer at us from all directions as I vaguely take in that we've been tugged into an abandoned shop of some kind, dozens of survivors hiding from the attack. I don't even care.

Nothing matters in this moment. I don't observe the dusty paneling or exposed drywall or think to scan for familiar faces.

My throat is burning and we don't even thank anybody. Nobody gives us a second glance when we push into the next room and ignore our hosts' questions. Nothing matters to me in this moment. Gasps are escaping my lips faster than I can stop them Dan's nails are digging  into my skin painfully. I can't stand right now. I can't.

We collapse in a corner. Dan's breaths are choked and and gasping and as I sink against him he's gripped to me so tightly I'm afraid he'll shatter if I move too much. My eyes are blurred with tears. Pain rips through my chest.

And that's when everything finally collapses. My back hits the wall so hard pain shoots through me and I yank Dan to my chest, my vision going black as grief hits me all at once and I scream.

Dan chokes out a sob and glares out at the night, the glow of the flames barely visible through the boarded up slats on the window. "Fuck this fucking hell of a world!" He screams, pressing a hand to his face as tears trickle into my neck.

I don't know what to do, I can feel blood from the wound in my back but I don't care. I reach up and cup Dan's face in my hand, desperately trying to brush the tears away but they just keep coming. He looks at me and his eyes are blazing, full of so much fury and hate. The expression weakens, and for the first time ever, all I can see in his eyes is defeat.

I'm shaking, my chest feels devoid of air. And Cat is gone. She's gone.

"Fuck everything, really." He croaks. "That's it. There's nothing left."

He looks me in the eye, and there's an anger that I've never seen before. Tears pool heavy in his eyes, he lifts his hand and grips my face with a harshness I've never experienced from him, hands shaking so hard our pain is shared, we are one. A choked sound escapes my throat and there's no semblance of any kind of feeling anymore. I feel empty. And so does he.

Hatred. I'm full of so much hatred.

I don't try to comfort him because I know he doesn't want it. I certainly don't want it, don't even need it. This is something that's happened, and I won't forget this. I just look into his eyes and I can see his understanding, see his pain and fear and the fire burning against our vision even though we're far away now, my fingers curling at his cheek.

I don't think about Cat left behind on the ground just like that confederation man. I don't think about our friends even, though they could be anywhere in the world.

I think of Wirrow, sending his men after us, killing hundreds for the sake of a power he wants. And in darkest part of my heart I'm full of hate. I want him to suffer, to die slowly and painfully for everything he's done.

"We're going to kill him." I promise. And though I haven't said a name, he knows exactly what I mean.

It's the end. We're done hiding. Done fighting and losing and being driven closer to being murdered for things we can't control. I look into Dan's eyes and feel pain and determination and emotion, his fire a light that never goes out. I look into his eyes and I don't see fear anymore. This is a look that promises consequence. A look that won't be quelled by threats or monsters.

For my mum and dad. Dan's brother. For Marzia. For Cat.

His look is one that promises death.

"We will." He agrees, and these words have no trace of shakiness.

I feel my heart jump in my chest but he cuts it off suddenly, pulling me forward just as the flames rise high and the air is split with bangs as the building that we danced in with Cat finally crumbles down. In the explosion of fire and sparks, it begins to rain. The drops pound hard against the windows and that's when everything ends, I clutch Dan like he's my lifeline and the last bit of comfort we had shatters. Blood stains my vision every time I close my eyes and my breaths heave, eyes burning and tears soaking into his chest. A scream claws out of my throat. The drops rush over my skin and pool between us where we're pressed together. When I open my mouth all that escapes are sobs.

And Dan holds me. But I can't feel anything, not anymore.

I would just like to extend a quick shoutout to FyreIce369 . (Bella please read this note after you read the chapter or you'll kill me)

She said if I killed anyone else in this story she'd make me sleep outside just a poncho when I come to Australia.
So uh.... 😬

updoot very soono also probably this week to attone for my slowness. I had three work shifts in a row which delayed me!1! hope you died at that almost kiss cause I did hA I'm sadistic. No, actually though. killing Cat broke my heart. it's gonna be weird without her. I know this story was never peaceful but... it's really not gonna be now.