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Smoke the light and I fall dark
you chase the clouds when I see stars.
-Arctic Lake, Further

Phil

The new apartment building we've broken into this time is a step above the last one.

It reminds me of my own from before the outbreak, for all I know my home could be nearby seeing how close to Broxbourne we're getting.

Maybe I'm biased in that way, seeing how Mark's first impression, vocalized for all of us to hear, was it could fall apart at any second but hey, there's a balcony, guys! But it's the same layout, looking to have belonged to a middle aged couple. Even from where I'm sitting there's a dusty framed photo of the jaunty pair on the bedside table, the warm-faced man and the blue eyed woman grinning their approval up at me. I consider turning it facedown to forget that fact that it's their bed I'm sat in, the white duvet bunched around my knees and grey sheets smelling like lemongrass.

Dan's left to change and though he promised to be back quickly, I've been waiting here past the amount of time I'd actually put the effort into counting and now I'm getting bored. It's gotten dark finally, so I've taken to looking up at the sky through the glass and counting the stars through the window. They're impossible to count, there's just too many, but it's better than the whole lot of nothing I'm left with and I'm shivering slightly seeing how Dan still has my hoodie. I'm already wistfully envisioning the moment he'll come back and bring his body heat, even if the mood between us is a bit odd.

It was weird, the rest of the train ride. Dan did return to the roof eventually after his disappearance with food and a blanket and we sat together for the rest of the trip, but because of me there was no contact. No head on my stomach like it'd been right before he left, no brushes of the hand or heads on shoulders, and I wonder if he'd minded. I didn't want to make him uncomfortable so I gave him some distance instead of being touchy, and there wasn't really a discussion seeing how we never actually talk about contact, we just do it. There was just no plausible reason for him to up and leave in the first place, even if he claimed we needed the stuff. He was gone for far too long when he left me up on the roof, and I'm sure it was something I did. Maybe the talk about relationships was too much, but in the end I think it was the touch. It wouldn't be the first time I've crossed some stupid line because I let my emotions control my mind.

I'm suddenly remembering how soft and vulnerable he looks, swathed in my oversized black sweater. Even I sometimes forget that despite his facade, Dan is in actuality just a long legged but otherwise small human that I happen to call my best friend. What he lacks in muscle and broadness he makes up for with glares and intimidation, and I'm imagining him going back to the living room where we've left our bag and everyone else is sitting with his face set and determinedly unaffected by anything, wearing my hoodie. Like a puzzle piece fallen out of the universe, everything as it should be save for one odd difference. Someone might connect the dots.

My heart flips at the thought of the questions I'll have to endure from Cat or maybe Mark, but all the same I smile to myself. Even with that possibility, it's still a nice thought to know he has it. Let them wonder why we've suddenly taken to sharing clothes. Like practically everything else, it's not as deep as they think.

I run the thumb of my one hand over the back of the other, feeling the scrapes and roughed skin around them. I'm not even sure where they've all come from. Between crashing through woods and escaping bunkers and fighting through the tunnel, they could have come from any place. The red on the pale skin looks like paint on a canvas; neat, swatched strokes shadowed by pale purple bruises. I flex my fingers and bring my hands close to my mouth, hiding the wounds from view and breathing the warmth back into my chilly skin, small breaths ghosting over the surface until I see colour returning. Where did the summer go? As soon as it gets dark like this everything gets suddenly cold, and now I'm really feeling it.

In the back of my mind, I'm pretty sure I know that there's nothing to worry about. I know that Dan's going to come back, that the confederation has no idea where we are again thanks to their mistake, and that everyone still with us is fine, but it's all so strange. We're down two people and Dan's keeping secrets from me, he's stressed, and just when we finally got to a building to rest our feet, he had to go, and of course all I can think is that he just wants to get away from me. I feel like I have the world's worst luck when it comes to him, feeling stupid now for not offering to go with him like I usually would. He wouldn't want me there if he's actually changing, and who am I to decide whether he's lying or not?

We have our own bed to share here, another double in the bedroom whose window overlooks the the street below, a shop underneath it that I think used to be a toy store. I'm sitting on the bed with the curtains pulled aside from the window and far too many thoughts cruising their way through my head. I really need Dan here to try and help sort it out with me, the room feeling far too empty when I'm aware that I've been left alone.

There's this irrational part of me, this small fear that he's angry. If he is angry at me there could be any number of reasons for why, and they'd all make sense. We argued in the apartment. I yelled at Felix instead of letting it drop, which Dan was quick to tell me later on didn't have to happen. And then just earlier, I was selfish on the train and despite it being him that had been upset, it was him that had to turn it all around. He let me wrap him in my arms, he tickled me and then laid on my stomach, and I'd gone and thought maybe things were all right again. I got comfortable, and then he was gone again.

Maybe he's weirded out that we're sharing a room. Mark and Cat both shot us cheeky looks when they suggested we take the master, and though Dan's face was pretty much impassive, I know that probably means next to nothing. He's always doing that. Beard and Earring, who I finally learned are actually named William and Copper after a very persistent session of harassment from Cat, seemed doubly confused compared to everyone else and are also currently sleeping on the couches, hoping to return tomorrow to Earring's sons now that they've managed to help us. We don't have a choice, Mark and Felix both took the single bedrooms undoubtedly for the couple's children in the normal days  and I'd been optimistic initially that it was all okay.

Then again, things really could be fine too. The worst part is I have no idea, it's up to him to clear the air. The gap next to me just serves as a reminder that I could have him sitting here to talk to, our arms or shoulders brushing innocently and his words reassuring me that I'm just an idiot, I don't know. All I can think of is the two different things he's uttered today.

Phil means everything to me.

Then later:

No, I'm not fucking okay. Isn't that obvious?

Emotions. That's what it really is. There's so many emotions right now, so much tumult between us and our friends, between each other, within ourselves. It's selfish, maybe, to wish that I could make him feel okay even if it might not be possible.

I know he thought I didn't notice, but I saw the way he kept to himself while I was talking to Cat earlier. I saw the way his eyes were cast down, the wind from the train's momentum pushing his curls into his face. I'd blame it all on Felix but there's so much more to this than just that. Dan even said it himself, what Felix said affected him less in the way of attack in the words, and more in how they confirmed some of Dan's guiltiest fears.

Isn't that obvious?

I guess it is.

A strong rush of wind picks up and creeps through the crack in the window, chillier than the others, and then stays. It smells fresh and clean but any warmth left in the air disappears, like the first gust of autumn that reminds me September probably isn't far off. Staring at the few trees I can see in between houses along the street, I'm half-expecting to see orange leaves drifting down to give a visual on it. 

Being up here makes me wonder to some degree if there are other people, strangers we've never met hunkering in old apartments just nearby, whether they know we're near or not. Some of the ones are fire damaged and whole buildings are collapsed likely from the same fire that drove Dan and I out of here in the first place, but I'd sooner stay in this room awkwardly with Dan than in the another one on the floor without. I shiver.

"Cold?" A voice asks hesitantly.

I hadn't even heard him return. I jump at first, turning around with a surprised expression, but then smile despite myself as my head turns and finds Dan moving to sit down next to me, wearing sweatpants and still with my hoodie on, the clothes he'd changed out of over one arm and my only other hoodie, the blue one, held in the other.

The mattress sinks a little as he settles down on it and jostles us both, crossing his legs and not getting under the covers just yet, too busy trying to hand off the article to me instead.

I reach my hands out and take the hoodie gratefully, brushing his hand despite myself because I can't help the contact. I expect him to miss it, or to not really notice at all, but instead he stops his motions and catches it, holding it loosely as he slouches down into the slightly excessive decorative pillow stack chosen by the former inhabitants and settles onto his back. I look at him as he curls my fingers over his hand, observing the very scrapes I'd just been looking at and awaiting my answer.

"I'm a bit cold." I lie, pulling the hoodie to my chest with my free hand so that my arms are enveloped in heat and the goosebumps go down. His eyes go straight to the red on my skin and he lifts my hand more closely towards him. even though we're on the same bed there's a noticeable gap between us despite the contact of our hands, saying more than his words do. I back off immediately, drawing my hand away so he's not weirded out, but since he's oblivious to my thoughts he just follows it, still lightly holding on.

"I don't even remember you having these." He tells me softly. His thumb runs over my my knuckles lightly and I try not to flinch at the stinging feeling, in no way wanting him to let go even if he's probably ready to. "How did that happen? Your hand's covered in scrapes."

I shrug. They could have come from anywhere.

He looks at me me in anticipation of an answer but I don't know what to say so I just pull my hand away, earning me a blank look that suggests confusion.

"Phil?"

"Hey uh, where did you go on the train?" I ask abruptly, trying to keep my voice light and casual, but he knows me too well and probably knows the direction my mind is going.

"Huh?" He looks at me confusedly in the hope of context, probably not expecting to hear that after coming back from putting on pajamas.

The unspoken question hangs in the air and I think he realizes that. In a way I almost expected it, but what I don't expect is for his expression to soften and for him to shuffle closer to my side, finally lifting his legs to shuffle under the covers, making it a lot warmer for me immediately.

"Why are you asking me about that?"

It's a valid question. We got off the train probably hours ago, and to him I bet nothing seemed off at all.

"I was just wondering." I invent hurriedly. "I sat up there for a while and it didn't really occur to me until now to ask you why."

"I didn't realize it'd worry you." He says quietly. I can tell by the way he's speaking that he's worried I'm upset. "Was I gone long?"

I don't want to sound clingy but my mind is worrying in so many different ways that he left for a different reason, and while I trust him not to lie to me, we're both equally bad for choosing to hide things, and now I have no idea how to behave.

"Yeah."

His eyes widen and I immediately feel bad for worrying him, especially considering I'm out to do the opposite. He shakes his head, deliberately laying his head on my shoulder again and dropping his hands into his lap, the blankets whispering lightly at the slight motions. It's almost like he's trying extra hard to make me feel as assured as possible, the motion very much apologetic. I freeze in surprise at the unexpected gentle gesture and relax into the touch while he nudges into my side.

"I told you what I was doing before I left." He says gently, but his eyes are on his hands. "I was going to get the backpack. I got sidetracked by Cat beforehand and it ended up taking a lot longer than I planned it to, and after a long ass talk she was the one who called me out for leaving you alone."

"What were you talking about that sidetracked you so much?" I ask him, genuinely curious when he'd been so unwilling to talk to her earlier.

He blushes but offers no explanation, instead lifting his head off of me and looking in my eyes.

"Why?" He grins cheekily, shooting me a sideways expression I'm not expecting. "Did you miss me?"

I choke on the breath I'm about to release, too clumsy to react to the suddenness. At first I'm not sure quite what to say in response so I just gape at him, but after staring idiotically for about two seconds I manage to redeem myself with an equally intelligent comeback:

"W-what?!"

I wouldn't go as far to say that I missed him per se, it was more like I didn't wanted be up there alone without him. Does that mean I missed him?

"For my own self-esteem," he mutters to the silence, "I'm going take that as a yes."

My face floods with colour, heart fluttering at the endearing nature of his tone while he laughs. At least I know he's not angry.

God, he really must have me wrapped around his little finger if I'm getting flustered by simple little jabs like that. I can tell he loves it, even if he's not aware of exactly what he's caused, he looks far too pleased with himself as he nudges exaggeratedly into my shoulder.

"No, I wouldn't do that." I reply, a light tone to my words as I rest my head against his. "I kind of hate you."

"Aw, do you?" He asks sadly, turning up his face to pout petulantly at me. "That sucks. I was kind of hoping that as my only friend you wouldn't."

His nose brushes my cheek and I blush hotly, jerking back and stammering while he grins in oblivion.

"Give me the blanket." I spit, unable to manage much more.

He hands it over and I pull it around myself, earning an indignant sound and demands that I share it. For my own amusement I twist the whole duvet, the entire queen-sized thing, pulling it more tightly around myself and sticking my tongue out at him. "No." I tease. "You have my hoodie. If you get my hoodie, then I get this."

His face reddens, eyes flicking down to the slightly oversized garment wrapping his arms and torso, but he plays it off like I'm not pointing out something embarrassing.

"That's a two-person blanket." He insists. "And I'm cold, you insensitive fuck."

"Oh no." I stick out my bottom lip in mock of his pout, causing his eyes to widen.

"Oh, don't do that." He threatens. He lunges forward, and since I'm expecting him to tackle me like I did him earlier, I'm curled into a very neck-exposed ball when his icy fingers come in contact with my skin.

"Da- NO!" I squeak.

He climbs on top of me, purposefully shoving his cold hands down my back as I try to jerk away.

"Ah! Stop!"

"Are you cold?" He questions jokingly, whispering into my ear which he knows I hate.

"Your hands are freezing!" I exclaim.

"The blanket, Phil." He whispers. I squeal and try to roll away from him but his arms are latched under my shirt. I can't just give in now, that would be shameful and my dignity is already in flames, but his fingers are touching my bare skin and I'm about to lose my mind.

"Okay!" I shout. "Okay! Let go!"

"I don't trust you."

"Please." I whine, making him roll his eyes. "I'll share it."

He chuckles and draws his hands away but he still has me squashed awkwardly against the ground, grabbing for the blanket.

"Hand me the corner."

"No." I protest. "Get off. I'll put it over both of us."

He shuffles so that we're looking eye to eye, head craned slightly because I'm pinned to the floor by his body, laying on my side, and then he wiggles his eyebrows. "You're telling me you don't like this compromising position?"

"Key word being compromising." I tease, sticking out my tongue at him.

"You're the worst sleepover companion ever." he groans, "I'm gonna roll you into place."

He tugs on my shoulder and shoves me against the wall before I can process that I've been rolled, yanking the blanket out from underneath me and making me yelp as the cold night air blasts my warm body. All the heat leaves my body at once and I stare at him, betrayed, his blanketed form pushing me into the cool surface.

"Is that what this is?" I question, trying to yank the blanket back around myself. "A sleepover?"

"Of course." He laughs, as if scolding me for thinking otherwise. He gestures for me to come back In a matter of moments I've done so. I flop on my back, head sinking into a pillow as I feel him shuffle over next to me, even going as far as to tuck me in slightly with the blanket as if in apology.

For a second our eyes meet and I don't know why the stare feels significant, but it does. His expression changes ever so slightly and he just holds the blanket absently for a moment, time frozen. Everything around us seems to slow down and it's a full drawn out second before I blink and everything moves at a pace again. He blinks too, lying back and throwing out the blanket clumsily, then scoots to my side and tugs the corner up to his chin.

The we sit back, and from this side of the room to the other, the doorway end at our feet- all that is visible in my immediate vision is the darkening outskirts of the city, the four walls around us, and him. It's not the worst way to be and I reflect on this while he fidgets and his elbow nudges me in unconscious motion, the two of us together again and quiet for a moment. Cold wind breezes over my hair but now the rest of me is warm, Dan's form close enough to touch and the blanket soft on my shoulders.

I'm content to lay in comfortable silence, but every so often I catch his eyes flickering back to me, casting me sideways glances and and other times staring out for long periods of time at the ceiling. I want to bring it up but I'm not sure how and besides, I feel safe when he's focused on me like this. The mood is comfortable that that there's been a play-fight of sorts, and now I'm just giving him space and indulging in his stares. I let it happen multiple times and manage not to to blush, and I don't know if he's aware I can see it or not.

A few minutes pass, and then he speaks again.

"You know you can hold me if you want to." He blurts, a tentative caution to his voice which is probably all my fault.

It's silent for a second. My heart stutters, sure I've misheard him. "What?"

My mind is one for embellishing things through imagination. I've imagined him saying things like this to me before, never actually expecting to hear it and simultaneously worried because I know we probably aren't assuming the context of the request in the same way, but how many meanings can you can hold me possibly have?

He looks at me confusedly, and I just stare back.

"You're looking at me like I'll erupt at you if you touch me by accident." He explains, frowning at the way I'm very obviously angling away from him. "It's freezing in here."

My words bubble up but then seem to get stuck in my head, I gape at him like he has two heads, like I don't want to immediately dive over and cuddle him.

"Stop it, you weirdo." He groans, budging over and stretching out his hand, manually shutting my mouth. "It's literally me. Quit overthinking everything we do so much."

It's a bit of an odd command coming from him, seeing how he gets so upset whenever our friends point out anything we do.

"I'm not."

"You are, stop worrying."

I can't not worry. If one of our friends happens to see us they'll comment on it and then he won't talk to me for hours on end because he can't stand assumptions and it's not like that's something I can change.

"But what if Mark or Felix say-"

"Phil." He looks at me seriously, and it catches me off guard when I hadn't expected him to really think on it. "Are you kidding me?"

We've never spoken about it before out loud. The assumption, the reality of it. The implication that Dan and I look like something we're not, and everyone knows it. He's talking about that. Out of nowhere.

I blink and stammer out my words. "What do you mean?"

The heat is rising in my cheeks and he's unknowingly making it worse by not pulling away, shifting suddenly onto my pillow and nudging my head. Now our shoulders are touching, we're both laying in the same part of this oversized bed with the same view of the sky, and I'm way too aware of his soft breaths ghosting my skin.

"It doesn't matter to me what anyone- any of them say about us." He admits quietly. "And before you go pretending you don't know what I'm talking about, I know I should have brought it up before."

He looks at me as if waiting for me to counter this but I can't, too stunned that it could even be true, a small amount of fear filling me that there's a romantic notion above us and Dan is well-aware, and not denying it.

I should have assumed that it's obvious he knew right from the beginning considering he isn't stupid, I guess there'd just always been this small hope that I could suffer from my feelings in peace.

"It's why I got so angry when Chris made that joke the other night." He confesses. "You weren't mad about that, were you?" His voice sounds worried.

Chris. The man is hardly mentioned, his and PJ's names nothing but a guilt factor for all of us and the source of much of the tension with his sacrifice. He'd seen us fighting and called it sexual tension, not the best thing to hear at that time.

I remember Dan storming out angrily from that kitchen after Chris had found us mid-argument, finding Dan holed up in the attic later with his stubborn dislike for the guy and an insistence that our conflict was forgotten. I'd been confused but okay with it at the time, and now it's starting to all make sense where it'd come from.

"No." I assure him, meaning it even more now that he seems apologetic of it too. "I just didn't know what was going on."

I shift over and rest my chin on his shoulder, relaxed by the contented sigh that leaves his lips when I do. I think he takes it as encouraging because he sounds a little more confident the next time he speaks, making me realize just how terrified he actually was of me taking it the wrong way.

"It freaked me out that someone was making assumptions about me that I didn't know about." He starts carefully. "It gave me the thought that there were lies, whole predictions and fabrications being spread behind our backs, and that people were looking too deep into our... our relationship."

I go to say something, thoroughly stunned, but he quickly cuts over me, his look reassuring that he truly means well. "-But that's okay! The thing is, I thought about it, I really did, and I think it's stupid that anything people say should make things weird between us."

I raise my eyebrows and he shrugs at me helplessly, barely apologetic for going into his familiar rant mode.

"If I need you to hug me, we should damn well be able to, you know? If it's really cold at night and it just feels safer to- to be like this then there's nothing they can do or say that makes it wrong. You're warm, dammit, and your hugs are fucking great."

A sudden warmth rises in my chest and I smile at him, seeing his expression relax as I finally realize what he means, and he grins back at me as he finishes, me sinking against the pillow and setting my hands lightly against my chest. We both laugh.

"This is the apocalypse." He concludes. "I don't care what any of them say or think, not even Cat. I'm sorry that I left you like that and went and hid in the attic. It took a breakdown in the tunnel and some alone time in the train, but I guess I've figured it out."

And with just those words, it's like a weight lifts from my shoulders.

He doesn't care what our friends will say. He isn't upset by the speculation anymore. He trusts me enough to give and take when needed and it's not even an awkward no-homo thing, it's entirely and purely a giant beacon sign that screams for the world to hear that it just doesn't matter. We can be friends in any way we want to and take care of each other, and nothing will make that change, and the relief I feel at knowing this is unbelievable.

And god, I know it's way too soon and Dan's only just getting comfortable with putting his own needs over others' opinions, but I'm just elated; I want with everything in me to roll over and wrap my arms around him. I withhold though, shifting my shoulder slightly so that I'm rested right against him, my face now definitely settled into the crook of his neck.

"So you're saying you're coming to terms with your own masculinity then?" I tease, and he huffs at me indignantly.

"No, don't say that." He protests. "It sounds really bad when you put it that way!"

I roll my eyes. "Well I'm glad you've come to terms with it, whatever it is."

"Thank you." He drawls, apparently mollified.

I really shouldn't say it, but a cheeky smirk finds it's way onto my lips, and I shove against his shoulder lightly.

"What's so bad about people wanting us together anyway?" I blurt. "I'm so cute."

Dammit.

He's silent for about two seconds, definitely surprised. I didn't really realize how flirty it sounded until I'd said it, he could see right through this and get freaked out right away. My heartbeat picks up again but I stay quiet, knowing that speaking will only make it worse, but he just nudges me irritably.

"Better you than a zombie I suppose." He quips in a bored voice, but it causes a hot blush to burn on my face, totally not expecting a return. I thought he'd just brush it off.

"Oh my god, Dan." I groan.

"Oh my god, Phil." He repeats in a slightly higher voice. "Shut up."

"I hate you." I retort, but I'm closing my eyes and feeling his blanketed arm wind around me, so the insult really carries no weight at all. He sighs comfortably and all I can smell is lemongrass and him, practically overtaken by this day of exhaustion.

"Ah, I hate you too." He mumbles sweetly. "Can't stand you to be perfectly honest."

"Clearly."

"Definitely."

He yawns widely and I feel him turn to the side a bit so my head is on his chest rather than his collarbone, his arm holding me in place so that I don't fall down on him. Just the simplest of embraces between me and my best friend, comments escaping here and there about damn it's really nice to have pillows and I'm so tired I'm literally dead but it's not too long after that we stop talking altogether. There's this dreamlike period where we just lie still and I listen to him breathe, so comforted I wonder if I'm dreaming.

"My brain is so weird." He says suddenly, eyes on the motionless ceiling fan over our heads.

I raise my eyebrows and he shrugs sheepishly at me, clearly stating in a nonverbal way that this is supposed to be a segue to something.

"Why's that?" I ask, blinking the tiredness out of my eyes and focusing on his chest as it rises and falls.

"Have you ever had something really dramatic dawn on you?" He starts, tone cryptic. "Like the notion is crazy, but deep down, it all makes sense?"

That's a concept I don't want to dwell too deeply on. There's been a few, certain things that seemed monumental and changed the way I looked at life, gradually becoming a part of who I was.

In high school, I got my first crush, an incredibly kind, sweet friend of mine named Adam after years of pretending I was attracted to girls to no avail, and came to terms with the fact that I was gay.

In uni it hit me that I'd never live with my parents again, that I had to look after myself forever and I'd never get to be a carefree child ever again. I cried in a store while looking at tea towels with my mum, and I realized fully that I was an adult.

And of course two years ago, I realized I was in love for real, and not just with anyone, but with Dan. And at first I tried fervently to deny it, but it didn't last for long. Once you realize you're attracted to your best friend there really is no going back, and like the other two events, that realization stuck with me.

"I guess." I say casually, less because the topic is relatable and more that I wholly welcome the opportunity to hear him speak intelligently about something, just a quiet, interesting insight into his mind. "Yeah, I get you. What about it?"

"I have this idea in my head." He says quietly. I feel his fingers come to take a strand of my hair and twirl it around for a second, running it between his fingers before he sets it down. "This notion that my entire life could have turned out differently if I hadn't made certain realizations. It's kind of terrifying if I think about it."

Okay, profound. It's not the first time he's had a seemingly random and exceptionally deep thought out of nowhere, and I keep this in mind while my brain tries to focus on what he's saying, slightly distracted by his touch on my fingers.

"Is this related to what you said before?" I ask tentatively, referring to the acceptance of our friends speculation and he blushes, vehemently shaking his head.

"No. It's just kind of in my head that the smallest things can affect the course of existence."

"I know." I agree. "I always wonder what little things there are that I've done that have changed the course of everything."

There's a pause and he looks away awkwardly, picking up my hand beneath the blankets and playing with my fingers to distract himself. My heart of course picks up its beats by several speeds, my whole being suddenly seeming to exist solely within my hand. It's these small, absent touches that I live for, nothing else really mattering at this time.

"Like... wait- what's an example for you?" He asks, curious.

"I always wonder if something small, eating a certain cereal in the morning for example, actually causes a shift in the universe." I tell him. "Like we don't even realize it, but just by altering some small personal habit, I could actually be changing the course of fate."

There's a silence and I turn to see him smirking at me, making me raise my hands defensively. "What?"

He laughs. "Fate isn't real, Phil. Everything you do is influenced by your own doing. Nothing is meant to happen, and it's certainly not going to be changed by your bloody cereal choices."

"You're just a cynic." I tease.

He rolls his eyes. "You're superstitious."

"Your mum's superstitiou-"

"I love that I can talk about stuff like this with you." He interrupts. "You know, existential, big picture things. My..." he fiddles with his hands. "My dad always told me that that kind of stuff didn't matter, back before any of this. He said I'd never find anybody that would get me, and he told me to stop being strange, as if having fascinations was so abnormal."

My thought train stops abruptly at the mention of his dad. There's something off-putting about knowing the man still has such a hold on his mind and his life, so many of his decisions and the ways in which he holds himself and now regulates his thoughts.

I only met Mr. Howell a few times, each visit to Dan's house met with cool stares and indifferent acknowledgements from the man who I knew didn't want me there, also why Dan usually ended up staying at mine for sleepovers instead. It's strangely sad to know that what he said really mattered to Dan, because the way Dan's talking now sounds almost ashamed, when my adoration for everything he stands for has stood for so long it's not even a nuisance but just a part of my existence. I can't help but resent the man, even now when we have no idea where he is.

"I didn't even realize that not everybody cared about it, but it's kind of crazy, isn't it?" He continues. "There's an entire universe full of stars and planets and things we've never seen and yet somehow we both still exist down here, and we somehow met each other."

"Yeah, thank god." I breathe in some disbelief, smiling slightly at the surprise on his face.

He pauses for a moment and raises his gaze to mine, no moon tonight to cast a glow on us in the windy dark. I see his expression soften, reminding me again of what he said. 

Phil means everything.

"You really feel that way?" He asks.

I look up at him, at the soft expression on his face, cautious but warm all the same.

"What, relieved? Pleased that I know you?"

"I guess kind of. I mean like, you're glad that we met each other?"

"You're joking, right?" I ask incredulously. "You can't possibly be surprised."

"No!" He blurts hurriedly. "No, I- of course not. It's just nice to hear out loud."

I rest my back against the wall, avoiding his eyes for a moment and debating taking his hand since his fingers are already so close to brushing mine as it is even though he's stopped playing with them, but withhold. It aches in my heart, I want to.

"Don't let the things your dad said to you ever dictate your life." My mouth tells him, the command escaping me before I can push it down. He stiffens before he can hide it and looks at me in shock, never having heard me vocalize my thoughts on the matter.

"Oh."

He's not looking at me anymore but instead his eyes shift upward, eyes on the stars as if they're fascinating. A small weight of guilt settles in me for bringing him up. He frowns, but I'm determined now, wondering why exactly the man keeps floating into his thoughts lately.

"I know he was your father." I say slowly, "but parents make mistakes too. I know you loved him but he was wrong. You know that, right?"

"I don't care." He mumbles. "It was just thinking about realizations that reminded me of him."

The harshness takes me aback, the bitterness in his voice overwhelmingly present. He always gets this way when talking about his dad, seeming to prefer if we acted like he didn't exist.

"Dan, it's okay if you do." I protest. "You don't have to pretend when it's just us two. I'm not judging you."

His voice rises, and though moments before he'd been fine, he suddenly sounds on the verge of tears.

"I don't care."

"You don't mean that." I chide. "It's like he haunts everything you do, and it's been a year now. He doesn't control you, okay? No one does."

He shakes his head and blinks hard, glaring determinedly out at the night. He falls silent and I wait patiently for his reply, knowing it's a tense and complicated subject.

"He's probably dead." He croaks abruptly. "And I honestly couldn't care less. I don't love him, Phil. He doesn't control me."

He pulls the blanket tighter around himself after this harsh admission, trying to hide his face from view, and I feel the pain, the ache in my heart for him. He's lying, I can tell he's lying. His voice is full of hurt and denial. Refusal to shift to the past tense. It makes me think of my own parents, and the playful mood of earlier dissolves.

"He doesn't love me, nobody did. So why would it matter what he thinks? Why do I care?"

I desperately hope he doesn't think there's truth to the words he's speaking. He must know it's ridiculous.

"That's not true." I breathe, my heart in my throat. "You are so loved. You know that."

"Stop." He pleads tightly. "I don't want-" he closes his eyes, stress lines underlining them harshly, "-he didn't. I'm not loved. Everyone hates me, or likes you better, a-and I'm used to that. I'm awful, I've even killed a person and I can't take that back."

No. We can't keep going this way. I want to hit myself for not being able to utter the words again, three simple words that encompass so much that it would take another miraculous accident to free them in a way that would so meaningful he's have to believe me. Because god, I love him. And somehow he can't see that. I can practically feel the pain he's feeling, my heart crying out for him. Would it change things, I wonder, if I abandoned all caution and told him? Would these bouts of self-doubt even exist?

"I'm sorry." I whisper instead. "Shh- come here. Nevermind, it's okay. It's okay."

I brush my fingers over his shoulders, feeling the muscles taut and tense under my fingertips. My arm wraps around his side and he collapses into the small pull, brushing the tears from his eyes and shaking his head angrily as I pull him into a tight hug, concealing his expression into my shoulder. His breath comes out in a rush.

"He's dead." He spits. "I'm never going to see him again. Guess that's what I get for being the worst son imaginable."

"I'm sorry." I whisper. My hands smooth over his back and I start rubbing comforting circles, but I've set something in motion behind my control now. "Oh god, Dan. He can't hurt you now."

His arms wind around my neck, a single drop touching my skin and his nose pushing into the dip below it, but no other sounds leaving him otherwise. It's not heartbreak or sadness really but more exhaustion and old memory that hurts so much, and I know it's better for both of us if we ride this out rather than ignore it.

I wonder what's spurred this. It seems that underneath the introduction he truly wanted to tell me something about feeling restrained by his father, somehow the past has become relevant to the present and it's weighing on his mind now. I haven't the faintest idea what it is though. He sinks his weight against my chest and swipes at his face, taking deep, calming breaths. I can tell that he's as surprised at how emotional this is when it hadn't been either of our intentions.

"This is stupid." He snaps. "I'm sorry. It's stupid to be upset over something this meaningless."

"No." I chide. "It's fine. Stop it." I readjust my arms so that the hug is more secure, closing my eyes into the motion. He lays his head back down, and we remain that way for a while, pretending he hadn't just said what he did earlier. "It all happens sooner or later."

The world is moving but we stay still. It doesn't even cross my mind that this is abnormal. It doesn't matter that we've held on for a long time, that his grip is a bit too tight on my sweater. Our heartbeats merge into one steady rhythm and he stays silent for a while, lost in thoughts and feelings I can't feel. His shoulders are warm and his breaths are slow and even. He isn't even crying after a while. He's just angry at the world.

"I'm confused." He blurts suddenly. As soon as the words leave his mouth he hides his face, and this time I let him. "I'm so confused because of him. He made me think parts of me were wrong and that I could just change myself. Like, everything I fucking did, it was wrong."

My words die on the tip of my tongue at the revelation. I'd always worried it was something like this but now he's saying it and while it's vague, it's giving me an insight into the reasoning behind some of his deepest fears. He isn't specifying what he believes is wrong with him which means he likely doesn't want me to know yet, but it must be relevant to me, why else would he be clinging to me like I'm his only outlet for something he's never let bother him before?

"You know there's nothing wrong with you." I whisper. "He was probably just scared, because he wanted you to act one way and you went the other. There's nothing wrong with that."

"He thought... you were wrong." He spits, barely even listening to me. "I couldn't even have you as my best friend without him freaking out. He made me ashamed to be happy, and you were the only thing that made me happy, so what's wrong with you? I hate him, Phil. He used to say I was secretive around him. He used to say I was qu-"

Whatever he's about to say gets cut off quickly, an expression of impossible fear crossing his face.

"He said some things." He mumbles decisively. "I heard it all through the floors you know. But this isn't about him."

I feel a dull ache at the implication. I wonder if Dan even realizes what he's just revealed. His father saw more into me than maybe even Dan did, probably saw right through Dan and I's relationship and formed an opinion of me, and through shorts spans of deducting, decided he disliked me. And I bet Dan heard all the vocal reasons.

I don't want to to jump to conclusions, but it's almost as if Dan was going to say queer. Like his dad said it was wrong. Like it was a bad thing. Like he can't actually say it out loud. What had the man said that made it stick with him after all this time?

"Okay." I agree, knowing he won't listen if I protest. "But only you know what's actually wrong and what's right. If it's not true, and you know it, then he can't change that."

His breath slows. He looks up at me meaningfully, eyebrows raised.

"He can't change that." He repeats.

"No."

His expression calms, as if he's come to a conclusion within himself. He nods minutely and sits up, wiping his eyes with his sleeve one last time, and then goes right back to collapsing into my hold again, arms out. But this time it's gentle, relaxed. He winds his arms behind my back and settles down, making my heart soften as I hug him close.

"I'm scared to know I'm right." He admits in a quiet voice. "But I think I am, Phil. He can't change who I am."

I'm not really sure what he means, but I'm proud of him. It doesn't even matter anyway. If it's a part of his identity I'm sure I won't mind it regardless, seeing how I'm considered a part of his identity at this point.

"No, of course he can't." I agree, mumbling into his hair.

He draws a lazy circle on the inside of my wrist, gaze mostly out of focus as he steadies his breath. "Just wish I could have come to terms with this sooner."

"You're an idiot." I tease with a laugh. "Dan Howell, goregeous, nineteen years old and not-dead-probably-immune in the face of an apocalypse, having any qualms that there's something gravely wrong with him that he should change? It's more likely than you think."

My face heats as he freezes at my sentiment and hides his face, pulling the blanket over his eyes and groaning frustratedly into my shoulder. "Phil!"

"What?!" I squeak, though I'm in too deep now, blushing hard at my own words. "It's not like that wasn't already up in the air before!"

"You're doing that on purpose." He says with a glare, raising his gaze up to mine and revealing pink cheeks, poking an accusing finger into my face. "Flattery will get you nowhere."

No need to remind me. It seems normativity is on my side. "Ah, come on." I tease. "I'm allowed to say you're pretty."

"You're a little shit." He mumbles, thudding his head back down.

I'm assuming that for most people this would be the cue to shut up, but all I've learnt from this exchange is that I can get away with little flirts at him if I disguise it as a joke, an opportunity so liberating I'm already aching to use it to my advantage. So long as I'm not stupid about it, who cares?

"You're cuddling me." I retort.

He loosens his grip in surprise and then immediately clings back to me, hiding his face which has gone adorably red.

"I am not." He quips back. "I am ailing in light of past demons, and you are comforting me."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night."

"I'm too gorgeous to sleep at night." He chirps, shooting me a cheesy wink.

"Looks like a certain one of my words caught your attention."

He shakes his head furiously, but he still doesn't let go of where he's clinging to me. Seems I'm not the only one who's more partial to affection than they let on today. He frowns mockingly."You're impossible."

"Okay." I say decidedly. "Let's say then, experimentally, if I go this way-" I lean to the left and he tips, thudding to the floor in a disgruntled tangle of blanket as soon as gravity catches up with him.

He yelps and punches my side halfheartedly as he falls, mumbling about ruining the cuddle and I roll my eyes, shoving him away. He lays on his back for a moment and stares up at me where I'm looking down on him, and then seems to remember the conversation we'd just had.

"Jeez." He exclaims suddenly, and then out of nowhere he's laughing, shaking his head and groaning in exasperation. "I came in here with a whole plan in my head of what I was going to say to you and that was not it. Why am I an emotional mess, Phil?" He flops one hand over his eyes but shoves the other towards me, hoping to be helped up I'm guessing.

I sigh, watching as his hand flails in the air, gentle at first but then more wildly when I don't immediately take it, seizing hold before he whacks my eye out and pulling him back to a sitting position.

His fingers are warm and now his hand is holding mine, and I forget what I'm doing and just focus on that, it takes me a moment to realize he hasn't let go either.

Our joined hands sit between us and I feel my hand twitch involuntarily, snapping him out of his daze.

"Ah-" I let go hurriedly and he blinks, hand hovering midair before he draws it back.

He nods. "...Right."

"I don't know why you're a mess." I tell him, hoping he'll just forget it. "But I accept you. Why were you planning out what you were gonna say to me?"

He groans and covers his eyes, smiling weakly, and flicks his hand out. "Forget it."

"You still wanna deny that you were cuddling me when I was able to gravitationally pull you to the floor?" I persist. "I don't believe that."

"You're so stupid."

"I rest my case."

My comeback is ignored in favour of him twisting the blanket back around his shoulders, laying himself against the pillows rather than me this time. He turns to his side and yawns, eyes falling shut as he curls in on himself.

"You can..." he gestures to the space next to him and my stomach flutters, watching him lower his head, clearly inviting me to fill the space.

"Just..?" I crawl over, laying down next to him, leaving a small space since he's lying on his side. I wonder if I'm crossing some kind of boundary, at least misinterpreting what he's said.

Dan's quick to correct me, though. He shuffles back at alarming speed, curling against me and then settling back down, situating our pack between his arms and closing his eyes.

"No, idiot." He sighs. "Give me your arm."

I have to blink a couple times to register what he's asked me. My arm?

As if in a daze I do it, I lift up my right one, feeling him take hold of it gently. He closes his fingers around my wrist and tugs it forward to tuck it under his head, settling back down again without elaborating as to why or really saying anything. I'd be lying if I said having his body pressed right against me is not affecting me, the back of his shoulders brushing my chest.

My other arm, deprived of a space to go now that he's right there touching me is hanging awkwardly in space and because of it, my stupid heart is beating way too quickly. I can feel my face blushing and I'm hoping to god he doesn't turn around, occupying the ghost hand by resting it in his hair, carefully brushing through the coppery curls even though I know he's awake still, not tired- not drunk, and not upset like earlier. There's no reason for me to do this like there has been all the other times before, I'm just doing it, and it's not helping that I like it or that he's gone dead silent.

I'd really, really appreciate some feedback right about now. If I've misread Dan completely then what I'm doing is way too weird to be normal. I can understand the proximity, we've been about this close plenty of times while sleeping lately and even a few times while awake, sort of, but it's a bit weirder to pull said friend closer and caress him. Caress his hair, I mean. I'm not caressing him, that would definitely fit under the category of not acceptable.

His hair is soft. I can't tell if he's confused or falling asleep, considering the only thing he's gotten of that kind happened restlessly in the truck hours ago.

I opt to draw my hand away carefully, hoping that if I stop and don't mention it the action itself might fade away. I almost sigh a bit wistfully but it's not really that big of a deal, after all it's just a mindless motion.

"Don't stop." He mumbles suddenly, half-conscious.

"What? This?" I brush my hand through his hair again, playing with individual curls even as my heart is in my throat and he sighs, content.

"Mhm." His eyes close again.

I go to open my mouth but I'm mostly speechless, gaping even as I shift to my back and he just rolls lazily over, nuzzling into my chest. I feel like I've fallen into an alternate dimension. All boundaries are down, all the reassurance I've ever needed suddenly available to me in the form of his warm hold, and he seems totally happy about it. There must be something going on.

"Are you sure you're okay?" I ask worriedly. It's not that it's bad or strange, it's quite the opposite, actually, but I'm worried that he's just putting up a face. How could he be this content out of nowhere, in the face of all that's happened?

He sighs. "Yeah. I've never been better, honestly."

I blink. "Really."

"I mean it, idiot."

His head is a steady weight over my heart, making smile faintly even though I'm tired. There's silence for a few seconds while I take in the realization that he is in fact okay with this, and while I'm burning with the desire to ask why, I also don't want to call attention to it. Maybe it's sentiment, the aftermath of all the confession and reassurance happening lately.

"You sure?"

"Mmhpositive."

"One hundred percent?"

"Mmyep, like our friendship."

I laugh at that, cringing at the thought that I'd even thought to rate him like that in the face of our days getting to know each other. It's so embarrassing now, knowing Dan is the type to set standards for himself and probably took each rise in percentage seriously. It took until the confederation bunker for him to hear that hundred percent, when all the while I've been quite literally in love with him. I didn't mean it. I never meant it.

"What's this, then?" I ask, patting his shoulder to indicate our position. He tenses and his sleepy eyes open immediately, looking at me in shock and making me hurry to correct myself.

His eyes are wide. "What?"

"You've never been this affectionate before." I explain. It's at the tip of my tongue, the second, terrifying half of the sentence: You're being affectionate and it's really, really nice. I can't make myself say it. I can't give myself away.

But then I'm questioning if I should have. Because the second these words leave my mouth, he lets go of me and tries to pull back.

"Im sorry." He stammers. "I'll stop. I didn't mean to make you feel-"

"No-!" I squeak. "I just..." I don't know how to get across that I need his cuddliness without making it sound like what I want in reality. My stomach sinks at his look of fear and how he very quickly backs up, looking as if he's genuinely worried I'm uncomfortable, and my mouth starts blurting clumsily. "I've- we've never-"

"It's... okay." He mumbles, looking worried. "You're right. I'm a fumbly sobbing mess this week. I guess I just kind of need it."

"It's nice, Dan." I confess before I can stop myself. "I think I- I need it more than you do, maybe. You don't have to worry about it."

He stills, blankly letting me guide him back down. "Really?"

"Yeah." I bury my face in his hair and he sighs in content, letting me wrap him in a hug as we sink into the pillows, my heart warming and his fingers tracing my arm tiredly.

A thought seems to cross his mind and he looks up at me tiredly, his tone suggesting he might regret what he says in the morning but his expression curious. "Phil?"

My heart starts to beat nervously for some reason and I meet the gaze, tucking a stray curl behind his ear which makes his cheeks turn pink. "Yeah?"

"What would you say if I-"

"Hey, lovers!" I hear suddenly, the voice shouting at us from the doorway.

Dan freezes where he's nearly laid atop of me, our eyes both darting involuntarily to Mark who's standing in the entrance to the doorway, evidently having seen our whole exchange. There's about two seconds of awkward silence before he seems to take in exactly what he's seeing, blatantly connecting the dots and scrambling to backtrack.

"Oh." He blurts, looking at us helplessly. "Um- yeah, maybe shouldn't have worded it exactly like that. Sorry."

"Can we help you?" Dan asks in a convincingly pointed tone, shifting off of me in record time and to the opposite side of the bed, very obviously avoiding my eye out of embarrassment. That's all it takes for the familiar dull ache to settle in my heart again as he turns away, his body even avoiding my proximity. We're still wrapped up in the same blanket, which probably doesn't help our case.

"Can you guys go an hour today without knocking each other down?" Mark jokes, a very desperate and obvious attempt the alleviate the accidental tension, but there's really no way to explain this, especially since he's never seen us this close before. "Phil just did that earlier. There's other kinds of problem solving, ya know."

He's talking about the knocking-dan-into-the-grass thing from before, but that's not even close to what's going on now even if that's maybe what it looked like. Dan looks at Mark and not me, apparently being two feet away is still far too scandalous.

"There's better things to be doing than asking irrelevant questions as well." Dan retorts automatically, the robotic tone just making it worse. He looks to me for backup, caught off guard when I glare at him instead, and I see his expression falter at once.

"He's just asking us what we're doing." I mutter. "That's irrelevant, is it?"

What had we just been talking about? Hadn't he said we'd let ourselves just be happy for once and disregard outside opinions?

I don't understand how he can go off assuring me that it's fine for people to joke about us being together and then deny it so vehemently when people actually do. Why can't he make a joke of it, brush it off? Maybe explain the situation calmly. He treats it like it's so wrong to imagine, and it hurts because I'm sick of it, but can't tell him because he'd have to know the whole problem I have and that it literally relates to loving him. It's a vicious cycle, and it hurts so much.

So much for being fine with it.

Dan seems to realize this only a moment later.

"Phi-" He opens his mouth to backtrack, Mark looking thoroughly confused, but I cut him off sharply. I don't care what he meant or what he didn't, those words didn't have to leave his mouth.

"It's fine." I say stiffly, moving away from his side and sliding out from under the duvet, noting that yep, now his eyes are on me. He looks at me with wide, confused eyes and I just shake my head, my eyes daring him to follow. "Just go to sleep, Dan, you need it."

"But you-"

"I'm not tired anyway. I'll just leave you be."

There's so much more to that and he knows it, but we obviously can't say it in front of our friend. There could be implications. Dan wouldn't want that, would he?

Mark looks shocked and Dan is frozen, his expression suddenly readable.

"Wait-"

"I'll be back later." I snap, though I try to keep my anger from pushing through, my words deadly quiet instead. "You'll be fine."

"Phil no-" Dan protests. He actually reaches out and grabs my arm as my feet touch onto the cold wood flooring, regret evident in his expression and fingers squeezing tight. "Don't leave like that, I didn't mean it that way."

And I admit, I'm amazed that he's being honest about the meaning when he knows he's being watched. Maybe it's selfish that I'm angry for hiding our actions when we're nothing close to an actual romance. You can't just turn off attraction like a faucet, you can't change who you're attracted to. Even on this superficial level he's still hiding our mere friendship, so comfortable and disgustingly platonic that there shouldn't even be anything to hide. As soon as he stops acting like he wouldn't want to touch me with a ten foot pole, that's when I'll be okay enough to stay here and look at him while my heart suffers the weight.

I look him in the eye, and his expression pleads with me sadly. Like my simple, harmless movement of wandering to get a clearer headspace has much worse implications if I leave him alone. But it hurts to look at him after I've called him gorgeous, after being held to his chest and carding my fingers through his hair. He doesn't want to be seen, and I can't pretend I don't feel nothing. I'm not a dirty secret.

"Tell that to Mark then." I reply, yanking my arm out of his grasp. "Glad we talked earlier."

I turn and cross to the doorway in a matter of seconds, already hearing Dan move to get up and follow, blankets shuffling on the bed.

I push past Mark, hearing him stop Dan who protests frantically and mutter something to him under his breath, turning myself to walk down into the dark hall and letting the voices fade completely.

There's a balcony just off the living room and a fire escape through the kitchen. I can go to one or the other to find myself out and standing in open, fresh air and I crave its cold simply for the fact that I'm so irrationally upset that I need a distraction, somewhere out in the open and not surrounded by walls.

Family photos line the short hall, strangers' faces grinning out at me. It reminds me simultaneously of what I have and what I've lost, profoundly so as I opt to go to the living room and pass Beard and Earring who are fast asleep in there, dead to the world on two separate couches and surrounded by what looks like homemade cable knit blankets and an abundance of throw pillows. I even pass a vanilla candle that Cat lit for some visibility, not seeing her at the moment and almost wishing I had her to talk, the scent itself reminding me of the candle I had back home.

A few short strides across the carpet finds me at the glass sliding door of the balcony, which I try to open slowly so as not to wake anyone. The thing sticks when I have it about halfway open about half the way that would allow me to step through, meaning I have to yank it with a pop sound and a gust of icy wind that immediately makes me shiver. I freeze when Earring stirs, but luckily he doesn't actually wake. It brings me back down to earth a bit and reminds me that it's all in my head and I need to be quiet, I take a deep breath to calm down, stepping out onto the wide rectangular balcony and shutting the door.

I settle back into the rickety lawn chair that's been left sitting outside, the fabric sagging after a year of battling the elements. I push my hands into the sleeves of the hoodie Dan brought me and try to regain some heat in my hands for the second time tonight, and my head tips back as the cold breeze brushes my cheek, eyes on the sky up above.

Stars. They litter the whole sky from my vantage point, no electricity left in London to create the light pollution that hid them my entire life. It's crazy, I guess, to live in a world where even this city has found itself this way. There's hundreds of them- thousands, not all of them the same in brightness and the Milky Way curving through it all under the weak light of a partial moon. It's bittersweet, knowing this is the sort of thing Dan loves so much, especially when a shooting star bursts by and my first impulse is to turn to him excitedly, before remembering I've left him alone.

I regret it, I do, going off like he did before. It's to a point where I know how he's feeling and I'm sure his dad's treatment of him in the past is the reason he's so closed off, so anxious but desperate for affection, but I can't stop the hurt that comes with it. I know what it feels like to be put in the reverse position, and I'll probably apologize later, but right now my feelings are spiralling beyond my control.

A growl cuts through the air down below and I know without getting up to look that it's a zombie wandering the darkened street, in no way able to reach us since we're on the third floor and several closed doors bar its way from entering. It's the only creature to keep me company at the moment and I hear the groans of others farther off, surprised that it's actually so devoid of more monsters. We're in the heart of the city, so close to my old home that I can see familiar buildings off in the distance now that I'm actually taking the time to look, and there's very few zombies. I wonder if it's nothing more than luck, or if it's a conscious decision of the confederation's.

I decide it'll probably only work me up to care.

A few minutes pass in silence as I sit alone in my thoughts. Then I hear the door slide open slightly and stick, whoever's thought to come out here also yanking on it and making that pop noise. My heart is in my throat and I wonder why Dan has decided to follow me, considering I probably don't deserve that yet, and I wonder what I'll say to him, but it's turns out I don't need to.

I turn around nervously, ready to face up to the issue and maybe demand to be left alone, only to find my gaze met not by Dan as I'd expected, the one who has my heart in a tangle right now and my mind fighting equal parts guilt and hurt, but by Mark. I'm confused slightly and don't know what to do at first, seeing him shut the door and move to stand by the railing, and I open my mouth to ask as he turns to me.

I close my mouth when I see the look on his face.

"Phil."

His expression is serious and I suddenly feel like I've done something wrong, avoiding his eye moments later. Already I'm shaking my head, his tone is too purposeful despite the innocence he'd been playing up earlier.The look he gives me isn't just obligatory, it's knowing, and immediate discomfort sinks into my chest.

"What were you doing, sending Dan off like that?" He asks quietly, getting straight to the point. "I was just checking on you."

His tone isn't offensive but it's cautious and makes me feel like I've done something wrong, and he looks too interested for someone who walked in on what he did and called us lovers.

"You were just checking were you?" I ask curiously. "For someone who's just checking, you seem to know pretty damn well what I don't want you to say to me."

He looks shocked, probably used to the cutting words coming from Dan, rather than me. I stare him down and he shakes his head slowly, though he doesn't deny my statement. I'll say that much about Mark, I can respect the fact that he's not a liar.

"I know what I said, I'm sorry about that." He says hurriedly. "I don't think before I speak half the time and I didn't mean to make a big deal out of nothing. I ain't judging but I've never seen a man blush like that before. You looked happy, Phil. It wasn't a bad thing to encounter."

Whatever I'd been thinking, that observation stops me dead in my tracks, trying to figure out if the sensation building in my mind is anger or stress.

"I'm talking about you." He says slowly, as if understanding my confusion. "I was gonna ask you guys about something tomorrow, and I walked in to see you two wrapped around each other."

My mind goes back to the warmth and the scent of lemongrass. The feeling of the white duvet and Dan's arms encircling me, the breeze from the window. And I thought I was alone.

"It's not like that." I blurt immediately, dread sinking into my stomach. "We weren't- we don't-"

"It's okay, I didn't tell anyone." He assures, ignoring me. "It's just... He had his arm right around you."

"Wha..." I blink, mind reaching to figure out how to explain it for what it is without incriminating myself like the hypocrite I apparently am. "s-so?" I choke, staring at him with a wide-eyed gaze that pretty much gives it away.

"So... I've never seen Dan like that before." He replies.

"What of it?!"

He looks at me like I can't be serious, like I'm stalling. Even if I am, I'm not here to be made the enemy.

"Phil," he protests."You wouldn't do that with anyone else. That's pretty gay."

Seriously. A few events where he doesn't get the full story and an encounter later he thinks he can make that conclusion, as if it's such a strange, ludicrous thing for me to appear exactly how I am, frankly. It's rising up in my throat before I can move to stop it and the angered confession spurts forward, wondering how any one person could be so clueless.

"Well maybe" I huff exasperatedly, throwing up my hands because I just need him to get it already, "it's because I am gay. Does that make sense? Or do I need to spell it out?"

As soon as the words are out I regret them. My mind feels numb and my heart skips a beat, my face burning horribly as I avoid making eye contact with Mark. An irreversible accident.

I've never told anyone.

For a second he just stares at me in shock, mouth open in a comical 'o'.

No one knows. Not even Dan.

It's silent for two seconds.

Then his face breaks into a grin and he explodes into laughter, tipping his head back and covering his mouth with his hand as he chortles, raising his eyebrows as my cheeks burn,

"Well god damn!" He bellows, slapping my shoulder with a good-natured chuckle. "It all makes sense now. Sorry Phil. Jesus Christ, I'm such an idiot."

I can't believe he's surprised about that.

"You're gay?" He asks, as if seeking confirmation.

"You're surprised?"

His eyes widen.

"Well jeez, I uh-" he reaches back and scratches his neck sheepishly, laughing again but clearly lost for what to say. "No, I guess not. Or- I don't know! Yes?"

I cross my arms, trying to hide the fact that I feel so flustered I want to disintegrate.

"Just kiss already." He blurts. "Seriously."

My breath catches in my throat and my heart stutters painfully, plummeting sharply. Of all the responses I was expecting to get, that was not high on my list. My eyes flicker involuntarily  to the window where Dan and I's room is, but it's pulled shut.

"Oh god, Mark." I stammer, looking around in sheer terror. "Please don't say that when he's around."

He shrugs, proper grinning at me. "I'm just messing with you."

I bury my face in my hands, trying not to scream in frustration. "Seriously. He doesn't know anything. I know what it definitely looks like seeing how I was there. There is nothing going on between us. If you say something like that while he's around I will actually die."

"Wait, what?!"

"Oh, I forgot." I huff. "You already have."

"Did you say he doesn't know anything?!" Mark cries, ignoring me. "He held your hand in the tube tunnel! You walked together holding hands. I thought one of you had confessed or something!"

He's thinking about that right now?! I hadn't realized anybody had seen. Nobody said anything about it, now I'm wondering if they all had. It meant nothing to Dan probably. I'm the one who can't stop thinking about it, I'm the one whose stupid mind is spinning me tantalizing lies and sweet little fantasies. It really is wrong to wish my best friend would feel something, since he damn well has an inkling of how I feel now? It was my own selfishness that kept us holding hands.

I shake my head, repressing an angry sound. "I- no, I mean I wish that was what had happened but... I don't think it is."

He frowns. "You two just do that for fun, do you?"

I don't know if he's dense or trying to aggravate me. Has he never liked a person before? Does he not know the etiquette involved in not pressing the issue?

"No! I don't know what was going through his head, but he was quick to drop it once I acknowledged it." I recall. "He seemed to think it was me that was uncomfortable."

He stares at me in complete disbelief. It's sad how much his expression softens, going from stubborn to sympathetic, reminding me of what Cat does almost every time she connects the dots.

"You're being serious, aren't you?" he asks worriedly. "You guys really have nothing going on."

"Nothing." I confirm, tiredness tingeing the words. The problem with saying that is that I'm vocally acknowledging it as well, as if I really needed another reminder. "He doesn't even know that I'm gay, Mark. Did that ever cross your mind?"

He shakes his head, apparently not even needing to dwell on it. "I don't like to speculate on things that are none of my business usually, but honestly, that boy loves you. You're hella gay."

He says it so nonchalant and easily. I wish I could be that sure of myself.

"I am. But he isn't! Please don't tell me that. Don't even make me think like that." I plead.

"Do you know that?"

"Know what?" I ask confusedly.

"That it's not true." He supplies. "I'm not even saying you guys are in love necessarily but you definitely aren't your average best friends either. Is that fair enough?"

"It's not." I sigh, thinking on my whole pathetic situation. "I've known him for years. Surely I would have seen something by now."

Mark shrugs. "Maybe not. Usually the last person to figure this stuff out is the object of affection. I think he feels really bad, whatever he did. Does he need to apologize or do you?"

"Neither of us." I snap. "There's nothing."

"Are we talking about the same person?" He insists. "I've seen a change in Dan. I won't go putting words in his mouth or actions in his name but he's different from the asshole I knew when I first met you guys. You must have noticed. You've done something to him."

A change? I guess he's more open now, he speaks a bit more frequently to the others and doesn't turn me away when I need small things done, but that's just who he is. He's getting more comfortable as we all survive together. To connect that to him being in love with me just doesn't make sense. There's a million other, much more plausible explanations. It's frankly a bit insulting. Considering how he reacted to what Mark said tonight, it isn't like anything's really changed at all.

Even still, my stupid heart has picked up its pace.

"You... you said yourself that you know him better now." I reason. "He's always been this kind of person, he just didn't let you see it."

"Phil, I swear on my life that he wouldn't have held hands with you back when we met. It's different."

"He doesn't even want to be seen in proximity when you guys can see it." I complain.

"Have you ever considered that maybe it's deeper than that?" Mark presses. "Cat thinks he's worried about crossing a boundary with you."

I bite my lip, rebellious new scenarios suddenly entering my imagination.

"I'm going to ignore the fact that you're discussing this shit with my friend." I say carefully. "And ask where on earth you got that notion? I think he'd be able to tell what I'm comfortable with and what I'm not."

"Can you tell when he is?" He counters. "I think you're both being idiots and don't know what you're missing."

"What are you seeing exactly?" I question, unable to see any way he can actually come up with a plausible situation. It's fun in theory, but I'm about ninety percent sure alone in this situation.

"Well, I don't think it's any secret how you feel." He states cautiously, making me cringe a little but appreciating his brutal honesty. He doesn't ask me to confirm or deny it. "We all wondered right from the very start what was going on but Marzia always told us not to be invasive, which I guess is fair enough. I know what I said in front of you and Dan but that was a while ago. That was pretty much my first impression." He chuckles, and I half-smile.

He called us a gay couple. I roll my eyes at the memory.

"Now though, I know you both a hell of a lot better. In the beginning it was clear that Dan could stand just about nobody and you were the one to go to when we had questions and yet, as unapproachable as he was with anyone and everyone, he always seemed to trust and rely on you completely. I wondered why, what had you possibly done to break through the shell like that, because it always seemed like it was him against the world. And yet it was you, always you. We never saw an emotion cross his face except anger, but then something would happen to you and he suddenly became readable."

I blink, amazed at how much thought he's put into this.

"Wait, really? I didn't think that he-"

"It doesn't end there." He says over me. "Then him and I got captured by the half-lifes, they threw us in a cage and threatened to send him off to the Confederation and yet all he cared about was you. He mentioned you being older than me while we were just arguing to pass the time and when Dil offered to help Dan made it a condition that you be kept safe, that he inform us on anything to do with your whereabouts. He called your name when we were at the meeting spot."

He stops to breathe, looking at my slack face appreciatively. Revelations are pouring in, and he's hardly even gotten anywhere.

"Every time there's danger he's near you. He guards your back and holds onto you when he's uncertain. Don't even get me started on that time Felix shot you. The time the fish bit him. That moment after the party when we all took off in the truck and Chris had to fix his shoulder. It's getting more and more noticeable. You're always glancing at each other when the other's not looking, you're inseparable, and frankly, he isn't this way with anyone else. Correct me if I'm wrong, but doesn't that generally mean you love-"

"-I do, all right?!" I groan, heart heavy in my chest. "It's so stupid. I can't stand to be teased about being with him or how close we are or any of that because it's just not how it is. You want the truth?"

The way he's staring at me now pretty much tells me that he's not sure if he wants to after all, guilty expression all the apology I need. But I've gone too far now.

"I've been in love with him for years." I state. It fells like a weight off my chest, getting the secret out, knowing I haven't willingly shared it since Marzia. "I figured it out one day for a fact when he was staying at my flat. It just hit me, and it didn't go away. Two years I haven't been able to tell him, because I know he might love me platonically but there really isn't anything more. Dan's brilliant; he's intelligent and loyal and he has a soft spot for hugs that he'd never admit in a million years and he's been treated badly by a lot of people. I was his best and only friend, everyone else had a harder time."

I let the words tumble free with absolutely no concept that I'm telling all this to Mark of all people. I'd rather not think about how strange this is, especially as I shiver from the cold that's crept in through the thin fabric of my hoodie. He's not making fun of me anymore but is genuinely wondering and willing to help, telling me all sorts of things he's seen that I've never known. I don't want to get my hopes up but it's like a drug to hear, tantalizing and leaving me wanting more and more, validating the affection I've harboured for far too long. I know I shouldn't ask for an explanation, but I can't help but desperately hope.

"Really." He breathes. "You know I never was sure. It was a hell of an assumption to make and I wasn't ever a hundred percent on it until tonight, honestly. You can't fake an expression like that."

Embarrassment rises in my chest. "Oh?"

He nods. "I'm honestly jealous. I've never had a friend like that."

"Neither have I, until Dan." I shrug. "I was always the friend that was second to someone. I had lots of friends and they were all lovely people, but I always felt like they had friends that they liked better. He was my first real... best friend."

"And it was like that for him too. What made you so different?" Mark asks. "How exactly did you find each other, meeting over the internet and all that?"

"He came to me." I admit quietly. finally allowing the whole story. "That part is actually true. I was a video blogger, it was just a side thing really, a hobby, I only had a few thousand viewers, and he was one of them. Kinda weird to think about now."

"Was he always like he is now?" Mark asks, and I frown at him, not sure exactly what that means.

"You know- guarded. Careful with his words." He elaborates.

"No." I decide. "Not exactly, but he wasn't the same either. He had a lot going on back when we met."

"Like what?"

You know as well as I do that I stayed here for you.

I think of Dan's reminding me back in the last apartment of this, realizing now just how much things have changed. There's no way anyone could guess this- we haven't even told Cat.

"I don't know if you... really should know about that." I say haltingly.

He nods in understanding but he looks curious. He sits down on a crate shoved in the corner, eyeing me carefully while I try to collect my thoughts.

"You're not about to tell me you guys had some sort of thing back in the past that I don't even wanna-"

"No!" I exclaim, cutting him off right there. I laugh awkwardly, running a hand through my hair. "I'm serious. Nothing remotely romantic has ever existed for us."

"Was he all right?"

My expression falters at the sincere tone that escapes Mark. I look up at him and see he looks genuinely concerned for Dan of the past, despite the fact that he's here in the same flat as us tonight about as fine as he can be given our lives' events. He's looking at me like he's worried about him, and it hits me in the moment how much our friendship with him has shifted. We actually matter to each other, we're not even allies, but friends now, and I find myself rushing to reassure him.

"He... it probably isn't what you're thinking." I confess. "His father was really hard on him and he was pretty down all the time and I honestly don't know if he ever got a proper ounce of support from anybody. His life was pretty shit I didn't know at the time he first messaged me, but I learned later that he was..."

I look down at my hands, debating whether or not to reveal this. I decide that it's okay, because it'll give him insight into who Dan is, maybe finally leading to respect and elimination of some of the negative assumptions made about him. I want him to know Dan the way I do, to clear up any misconceptions once and for all, because god knows the world is rough enough already, maybe it'll help Dan and I both if he's left alone.

"...he was contemplating suicide." I say seriously. Mark looks at me in shock, eyes wide, but it's the truth. I can tell he doesn't know how to answer to that and I don't blame him, sure that I'd be the same in his place to hear that unexpectedly.

"Oh." He manages, nodding slowly as his face dawns with understanding. "Oh."

It's not something I like to remember. The only reason I recall it like this is because he has such a will to live now, which is also why it probably seems that much more drastic to Mark. "Which I didn't know at first." I continue. "The first night we spoke he sent me a message one night, a hello and then a quickfire paragraph that said something along the lines of how I was the only part of his day he enjoyed and that we could be friends. Quite unlike himself both now and then, but I later learned that it was because he hadn't even intended to send it. He'd thought I'd never see it."

"Because of the viewers."

I nod at Mark, odd memories floating up of my internet life pre-Dan, when all the comments came in a crazy indistinct rush.

"Yes. Because of all the other viewers." For a second I'm lost in thought, just remembering any of that existed. "That's literally how our friendship started, and I don't think either of us could've guessed we'd end up here."

It's something I haven't thought about in a long time. In my mind it almost doesn't feel real, this part of Dan's life that I can scarcely remember. It was all built up over several months' time and spurred on by his father and oblivious family, his sheer aloneness in the world that made him wonder if anything was really worth it. We don't talk about it anymore- not that it was anything to be ashamed of. It just was; it was a part of him. It took so much to move on, and eventually he did it.

"I wasn't aware of all that initially, but the message made me smile and I told him we could be friends, if he wanted." I recall. "I seriously think he regretted the mistake at first, although you'd never guess that now. He was seventeen then, almost eighteen, and we grew close pretty quickly despite the age gap. He was a lot more relaxed before the outbreak, though maybe it was just because he knew me before I knew him. After all, I told the stories of my life once or twice a week online.

I was so nervous the first time I Skyped him, but it ended up being really nice. We talked nonstop for like five hours, remember that this was after months of just messaging and small phone calls, we already knew each other quite well but now there was a face in real time- it was wonderful. I remember being tired but feeling so content near the end. By that time we weren't even talking. At that moment I was just sitting there with my chin propped up looking at him, he was so pretty to look at even back then." I blush at openly calling him pretty to someone else but Mark just smiles at me, raising his eyebrows in encouragement. I hurry on, fiddling with my hands.

"Then he smiled at me and I smiled back, and then he thanked me. Dan Howell smiled and told me thank you for everything I did, and I just brushed it off. I didn't feel that special. But then, I had no idea. I took it for what it was and tried not to smile stupidly because it was a lot to feel at once, and I... I'll never forget when he finally told me."

Mark looks completely hypnotized. I can see the compassion in his eyes, this is the side of Dan he has never known.

"He told me during a call about four, maybe five months later. I noticed he was kind of out of it, and asked him what was up. He went quiet and focused on me, looking at me in a way he'd never done before. I almost feel bad about where my thoughts had been at that time because it turned out to be so serious, but until he spoke I was lost in thought thinking about how much I wanted to hug him. He just looked so huggable in that moment. I sat there waiting in silence until he seemed to collect himself, and then he said very quietly, I'm really happy right now.

I felt my heart swell. It was probably the first time I truly realized how much he'd come to mean to me, how much more he was than a viewer. I didn't Skype other viewers or text them on their real phone numbers rather than Twitter. Dan was already special to me, and I think I always sort of knew I'd end up here where I am now, I was already pretty sure I loved him to some degree, because he was like nobody else I'd ever known. I smiled at him, then laughed a little. I said something like me too, I guess. I'm always happy when we're talking. I wasn't lying. It was true.

You've done so much for me, Phil. He said seriously, barely managing to smile. He said something after it like, you don't know the half of it, and I was kind of just stunned into silence. I had no idea.

There was this long pause, I was trying to figure exactly what he meant. Then out of nowhere his face faltered a little and he stuttered it out, and all I wanted to do was be there with him when he said it the way he did.

I need to tell you something."

"Oh no." Mark breathes.

I nod.

"By the way he said it I knew it was serious. I tried to give him a reassuring look, but I was scared. I knew he was unhappy in his own home, his parents fought in a very messy way and he knew divorce was coming, he didn't have friends and people shunned him in school because he was so guarded, you know, because it was the only thing that protected him from being hurt. I feel awful honestly, thinking back on it. Because the first thing that came to my mind was that I thought he was gonna tell me he was gay, or bi- or something, I don't know, and that's why everyone treated him like they did. I thought I could finally be honest with him about that, as if I could say hey, me too, it didn't even cross my mind to worry it was something deeper, I was still riding on a high that he thought I was different."

I shake my head, feeling ashamed even now. It reminds me that I've always been selfish. I only thought of myself then and I only thought of myself tonight. What must Dan feel, what if he's doesn't deserve it?

Mark nods, raising his eyebrows and putting a hand on my shoulder reassuringly.

"To hear he was happy because of me was important for that reason," I tell him, "but this wasn't about being happy. It was the moment he told me that shortly before he'd met me, he had wanted to die. He was considering killing himself, at the time it had seemed like the only way out."

I pause for a moment, looking out at the expanse of the sky and watching a flock of birds rise up into the air, silhouettes outlines against the navy sky and being reminded that they're probably zombified by now.

"Oh." Mark breathes seriously. "What... what did you do?"

"I, uh... I think I gasped?" I mumble. "He was like not anymore, I swear! He said it quickly as soon as he saw my face fall. I swear it knocked the breath out of my lungs. It's something I could never explain. I hope you never have to hear it, because I'm not exaggerating when I say it broke my heart. I can't believe he said it to my face. I think he misinterpreted my expression because he begged me not to stop talking to him, he thought I'd leave him forever now that I knew. I cried. I actually cried right there on camera and he cried too."

I wait for him to comment on the fact that Dan had cried, knowing he'd never seen it before, but his expression is completely serious. For that I'm grateful. It was nothing to be ashamed of, it was so out of Dan's control.

"I wasn't about to leave him. I told him that. I told him that and then we were both bawling because god I just needed to give him a hug but I couldn't because he lived hours away. I dropped everything right then and there, I invited him to come stay with me for the first time ever, literally on an impulse out of nowhere and without consulting my parents. He still looked dubious, like I was just staying there on call with him out of pity, and I stared dead at him until he believed me.

He mumbled about being unable to afford it. I offered to pay, because hell I didn't care about money. We worked on it, talked about it, and that's how we ended up meeting for the first time in October 2009. And honestly, if you think Dan is distant or cold or whatever then you've never experienced that first hug we had. I held him so tightly I was worried he'd break, he was so small. He was tall, but small. And I almost cried again hugging him. Because he didn't let go until I did."

I take a deep breath and rub my eyes for a moment, suddenly wanting to go find Dan. The current one.

It's the past, all of its in the past, but it's still our past and it was a very real thing. While I'm pretty sure he's done his best to never let things get that awful again, whether by taking a deep breath or talking to me or doing anything else, really, it's the reason that he's so guarded, so insecure and angry- and there's just no way to explain that to people who so readily mistreat him and yet have no way to know the reasons for why he is. I can't just go around telling people. It's a part of his life, yes, but it's kept in the past.

"You saved his life." Mark breathes, staring at me in shock. "You realize that, right?"

I shake my head, sighing at the recollection. "Maybe I did. It's all in the past now. We've saved each other's lives countless times now."

He doesn't break his gaze on me and I find myself shifting, wondering why.

"But this is different from a crowd of zombies or half-lifes." He insists slowly, leaning towards me with look of purpose. "You rescued him from a life where he was entirely alone. Don't underestimate the power of a suicidal mind or the amount a person needs to be reduced to get there. You saved Dan from himself."

My voice falters at that. I don't know what to say to say in response. I'd never really thought about it before. Could that really be true?

"Just put yourself in his place for a moment." Mark insists, passionately determined now. "The boy he looks up to not only acknowledges his existence but befriends him, giving him a lifeline of constant support and compliments no doubt, knowing you. He calls him every week, checks up on him and makes him smile when his life goes to shit. This guy gives him a reason to be alive, unknowingly keeping him from going under, and when he finally gets the courage to say as much, the guy's still there, and immediately offers to have him stay with him, and take care of him in person. Pretend you're Dan, and just imagine how much that probably meant to him."

Mark looks lost for words. We look up, suddenly both appreciative of one another, and of a certain person. I don't even know what to say, my mind completely blank as the sheer feeling crashes down on me.

Dan. I never considered how much of an impact we've had on one another. I never felt like I did much, I just made videos and he was the one that gave me the privilege of being my best friend. But now...?

"A-anyway," I stammer, trying to remember where I'd been going with this. "Just- the point I meant to make was that we're incredibly close. We've always been and I think we always will be. I don't think he feels for me in the same way I do, but I can live with that. I'm used to it by now."

He looks up and nods, staring out at the skyline where brick rooftops extend for miles around under the cloudy sky.

"You don't have to take anything out of this." He assures me. "I just think maybe you should entertain the possibility that he could. Just think about it."

"I will." I reply honestly. "The thing is, I do it too much, truthfully."

"You do?" He asks curiously. "Like what? What do you mean?"

I go over scenarios in my head. "He... like, he'll brush my hand by accident or something," I invent wildly, "and I'll be like, oh, what if he wanted to take my hand but was just too shy? Maybe I should hold his hand, see if that does anything. It's the worst, honestly. If one day we're both dying I swear to god I'm just going to up and kiss him."

"Fair enough." Mark agrees with a laugh. "I hope I live long enough to see it."

"I don't think I'd ever be able to do it, is the thing." I groan.

He laughs and punches my arm, shaking his head at my situation. Now my heart is full of feeling for Dan and all I can think about is how he probably thinks I'm angry, and I was- but now it feels really stupid to cling onto. He's worth more than that, dammit, and I don't even know how to apologize for this.

We sit in a calm silence for a moment, the moon crossing a little further over the sky, and then I find myself remembering my current reality.

"I'm such an idiot." I groan, and Mark looks over at me, expression surprised. "He probably feels like shit now and I've just taken off on him."

He shakes his head and smiles bemusedly, considering my words.

"Go talk to Dan." He says decisively. "That's the only surefire way to find out."

It's odd how he's gone from scolding me to advising me and I try not to dwell on the amount he's aware of, how much he empathizes with me now in a way that Felix and Cat can't even fathom.

"Wow." I breathe. "How much did I just dump on you in this one conversation?"

The amount that Mark now knows hits me overwhelmingly and I flush in embarrassment, deciding I just shouldn't speak when I get emotional. "Oh, god. Don't tell Dan I said any of that."

He chuckles and smiles at me, and I'm finally able to return it sincerely as his face assures me he won't. "Get your gay ass in there." He teases. "And stop being such a drama queen, Philly. You've got a boy to make up to. I don't think he's mad, he wanted to go out here instead of me."

I stare at him incredulously, making a mockingly offended sound. "Did you just call me Philly?"

"Get out." He groans, kicking my foot. "Don't expect me to be your therapist next time, all right?"

"In your dreams." I retort. "This is all your fault anyway. Stop telling us to kiss each other before Dan stabs me."

He shrugs and rolls his eyes, watching with a smirk as I jump up from my chair a little too eagerly.

"He's on the fire escape." He informs me as I slide open the stupid sticking door, causing me to pause just as I'm about to go. "I'm glad to have shared this bonding moment with you."

I nod my appreciation, setting a foot in the door.

"Oh, and Phil?"

I turn back and look at him, wondering if he's going to ask me something else personal or tell me not to screw up, but his expression is oddly sincere when I turn and meet his eyes, seeing his tired face that mirrors ours in a way that is so oddly familiar.

"Yeah?"

"Between you and me, I don't think Dan could ever stay mad at you."

My heart skips a beat and a smile finds my face that I wouldn't have thought possible earlier, a giddy kind of cheer entering my system that makes me feel stupid.

"Shut up!" I whisper-shout, being sure not to wake the people on the sofas, and he throws his hands up in an innocent gesture. I close the door and begin wandering the house, searching around for my best friend and listening to the hushed breaths of our companions, my mood considerably lightened even as shyness overwhelms me the closer I get to Dan.

I can't stay mad at him either. I think ruefully. I guess that's just our whole problem.

When I encounter Dan, it's on the fire escape a few minutes later. He's standing, looking down at the street below precariously with his fingers wrapped around the edge of the railing almost as if he's flying, the wind breezing his hair and probably caressing his face. He doesn't hear the door open, nor does he hear me shut it.

I almost envy it for being able to touch his soft cheeks and breeze over his lips without thought or consideration, even if it is as intangible as our past. What I wouldn't give for me to have it that easy, how strange it is that I'm jealous of the wind.

His back is to me and so I have the advantage, the time to think my actions through, and oddly enough, though I had worried so much before about what he thought or if openly loving him was wrong it's like Mark and I's conversation has reminded me that none of it really matters. I just watch the air lift his curls up for a little while longer before my fingers start wishing to be the ones to touch them instead, realizing that everyone needs to be loved in some way, shape or form, and even this quiet sad boy is just refusing to admit it.

He could be angry at me, but then again maybe he's not. Talking about everything has reminded me that in the grand scheme of things none of it matters. As far as I know we have lots of time left to talk, and any number of things could happen.

So when I finally do move to make myself known I don't even say anything, just stumble forward and wrap my arms around him from behind, and though he jumps at first I'm unexpectedly not met with distance. Instead he just slowly turns around.

His arms wind around my waist, he hugs me back tentatively and looks down with a half-smile of confusion, clearly okay with it but not quite sure what he did to merit it. Emotions run through my veins and I push my face into his shirt, sighing so softly that he probably doesn't hear it. When he lowers his body so that I can settle my head in the nook of his shoulder I'm reminded again that he's become taller than me, something unusual and different.

He smells like warmth and the lemongrass sheets from the bedroom, his skewed curls indicating he's rolled out of bed only recently. I take comfort in the scent, the living air of it all, hands splayed across the back of his shoulders. He smells distinctly like himself too, and it's crazy to think that there was a time in my life when I didn't know what that was like.

It's all quiet except for the wind and the sound of our hearts, a soft breath escaping my friend before anything is said. He just holds me, it ends up being me that draws back to let go, and even then he keeps his arms draped behind my neck.

"What was that for?" He whispers with a light laugh, smiling more widely when my eyes meet his and making me feel sheepish despite myself. He's smiling. Despite all that has happened I did this one thing and he smiled at it, my heart feeling warm in my chest.

I look into his eyes, finding brown irises totally focused on me.

"It was for you." I tell him softly, eyes casting themselves back up to the sky where the stars shine free with no distracted London light.

I see his expression soften and he laughs in quiet surprise.

He moves forward, pulling me closer and just shaking his head silently. In the end, neither of us apologize. We just sink back into the hug, eventually moving to sit against the floor, and just like before, it's only a matter of moments before his head finds my shoulder and nothing more is said. I don't feel cold anymore.

"You know I tried to sleep." He tells me softly. "I really did, but apparently you're like a requirement or something."

I nod but don't say anything more. I just settle myself against him, hardly even thinking twice as I shift my arm forward and take hold of his hand discretely. It doesn't really matter what anyone could take from this moment, what matters is that he holds it right back, his touch steady and reassuring and our eyes both on the sky. No matter where we are in the country the sky will always look like that, and there's comfort in knowing that some things won't ever change. I close my eyes and just focus on going to bed sometime soon, any troubles we have and places we go can be put off to wait til tomorrow.

"That's okay." I tell him.

HOW IN H*CK IS THIS AT 3K WTF I LOVE YOU THANK YOU
seriously who's reading this

Apologies for yet another time gap in updating. Several replots have occurred and Night is now a much more intricately mapped out story. (Thanks Nathan. Thanks imagination.)

additional notes (from top)

tw recollections of suicidal thoughts
It has already been stated and somewhat alluded to in the past that in this story, Dan used to be suicidal in the year or so prior to meeting his best friend. This chapter explains it in a little more depth and gives an insight to why exactly Phil means so much to Dan and vice versa, but there are no graphic descriptions, no mentions of character death, and I am in no way trying to romanticize or undermine this very real topic.

The events in Night are purely fictitious and cast no aspersions on the real Dan, but they are somewhat reflective of the personal experiences of myself or the people I love. This chapter is dedicated to my best friend here at home, I love you very much and I'm so proud of your courage and all you've overcome.