The movement startled Dan to the point where he almost fell off the end of his bed.

Heart beating, he moved cautiously closer to the boy, in a position that would not be too close. Dan didn't want to frighten him.

It took fourteen minutes for the boy to make a more prominent motion. Namely, shifting his hand two centimeters. Dan was counting on the clock, watching the red lines change.

Time. A construct of humanity, a universal construct just giving us all something to cling to. Something to count heartbeats and blinks and how long it takes to fall in love.

The boy coughed.

Dan was torn between staying poised over him, to be in the best possible position should the boy need assistance, and just staying back as to not alarm him. He settled for somewhere in between.

Dan willed him to wake up, to be okay.

He wasn't really sure why he felt so strongly toward the boy. They'd never even spoken. Dan didn't even know his name, for goodness' sake.

And yet ...

The lights blinked off just as the boy sat bolt upright.

And flickered back on as his eyes flickered open.

Granted, it wasn't much of a difference, considering the only light in Dan's room was his lamp. The boy's chest was rapidly rising and falling, and Dan rushed forward and placed a hand on his chest, trying to get him to breathe. He hadn't even thought twice.

He did think twice, however, when the boy's shockingly blue eyes met his own for a split second, before both the eye and physical contact were broken as he scrambled back, away from Dan.

Dan felt guilty. A hand to him was gentle and caring, unless administered at school. He hadn't considered that it may not be the same for the boy. He'd only wanted to help, and look what he'd gone and done.

The door to his mother's bedroom shut. It wasn't loud, but the boy flinched.

Everyone else in the house was asleep. It was just Dan and the boy, who was looking around the bedroom in a cautious sort of wonder.

He seemed to sense Dan looking at him and froze. Tense.

"Hi." Maybe hearing his voice would cause the boy to be more at ease. "So, my name is Dan."

No response. Only a wide-eyed stare. Dan ignored the feeling in his stomach and just continued talking.

"I, um, got you some cereal, in case you're hungry. You don't have to eat it, of course. Or, if you don't like that kind I think we have others. Oh, are you cold? You look like you could be cold. Here," he said, getting up off the bed slowly and gently and walking over to his closet. He got his favorite jacket, a dark green canvas one, so worn it was soft. "Only if you feel comfortable, though. It's fine if you don't."

He smiled brightly at the boy, who tugged up the corners of his lips in return, mimicking Dan's expression. It was a pretty smile, but it seemed stiff. Dan wondered how often he smiled.

Dan offered the jacket, which the boy took unsteadily, as if unsure what to do with it. He looked up at Dan, confused.

"Do you need help to put it on?"

The boy nodded, making his hair flop into his eyes a bit. Dan wanted to brush it away, but didn't. The boy obviously wasn't comfortable with contact.

So Dan helped him into the jacket, careful not to touch skin. He did brush against the clothes the boy was wearing, which he suddenly remembered were his own, too.

He felt a rush of sympathy for him. Waking up cold with completely unfamiliar surroundings and a strange boy standing right next to you.

Dan finished putting the jacket on him.

"All good?"

The boy tilted his head up to look right at Dan, who froze. He wasn't even sure if he should breathe. The boy's face was merely inches from his own.

His eyes seemed to pierce Dan's.

He opened his mouth, causing warm breath to cascade across Dan's cheeks.

"Yes."

It was small and barely more than a whisper. But it was there. It was there, and that's all that mattered. Dan was trusted, at least enough to be spoken to.

A smile broke out on Dan's face, causing his eyes to crinkle and his cheek to dimple.

The boy reciprocated the gesture, reaching out a hand to brush Dan's curly hair out of his eyes.

"Pretty," he breathed.

Dan felt his face color as his fingers travelled down to barely brush the freckles on his cheeks. The air had left his lungs.

The boy slowly moved away, and Dan almost missed the proximity.

"Hey," he said, clearing his throat. "What's your name? If you're okay with telling me, that is. If not, that's perfectly fine."

"Phil," the boy murmured. Dan barely had time to register (Phil, what a lovely name for such a lovely person) before he was sliding up the green canvas sleeve to reveal a tattoo Dan had not noticed before.

168.

Dan wanted to know what that meant. He wanted to know a lot of things in that moment, but then he glanced up at Phil, who looked tired and worn out.

"Are you hungry?"

A nod.

"Here," Dan said, scrambling off his bed and heading over to his bedside table, where the bowl of cereal and the cup of tea were sitting.

He looked down at the tea. It was cold. He handed Phil the bowl, and gestured towards the door.

"I'll go heat this back up, okay? I'll be right back."

As he was reaching to open the door, he felt a firm grasp on the sleeve of his sweater. A turn back around revealed Phil, looking to be on the brink of tears.

"Do you ... do you not want me to leave you here?"

Phil opened his mouth, then closed it and shook his head forcefully.

"Here," Dan offered, sliding his hand out of his sleeve and gripping Phil's. "You can come with me. But you need something warm."

He looked scared still, but seemed to consider it. Moments later, Dan felt the tiniest squeeze on his palm.

Dan opened the door, and led Phil down the hallway into the kitchen. He noticed the other boy looking around interestedly. It occurred to Dan that Phil maybe hadn't seen this before, despite it being normal for him.

If either Sarah or his mother heard the kettle, they wouldn't find anything strange about it. It wasn't rare that Dan would fix himself a cup of tea in the middle of the night when he couldn't sleep.

But oh, the way Phil tensed when the kettle started whistling. His grasp on Dan's hand tightened, and Dan knew for a fact he wouldn't let go even if there was a chance his fingers would fall off.

"Hey, it's alright, Phil. The water's boiling, that's all."

The hold on his hand lessened, but didn't cease. Dan used his right hand to slowly, carefully pour the water into a new mug, then drop a teabag into the steaming liquid.

"Here," Dan said softly, breaking the delicate silence during which he could practically hear Phil's heart beating. He pressed the mug into Phil's pale hand. "This should make you feel better."

By the time Phil had finished the tea and the cereal, his eyelids were lazy and sleepy. He kept yawning. He hadn't let go of Dan's hand the entire time.

And when he felt Phil's head on his shoulder, Dan knew how tired he still must be, to fall asleep in this still-alien place.

He gently eased Phil into his arms and carried him into his room, tucking him under the duvet snugly. And then he curled up in the armchair and got ready for a long night.

Dan decided to stay home the following day. He couldn't (wouldn't) leave Phil on his own, at least not now. And he couldn't take him to school, either. His grades were high, and wouldn't suffer from missing a day or two.

It was around six in the morning, Dan guessed. From his position, he couldn't see the alarm clock. But he looked out the window, and saw that the sun was just beginning to touch the horizon. His mother's car was gone.

Dan cracked the window open and breathed in the fresh, chilly air before closing it again. He didn't want Phil to get cold.

Phil had twisted the blankets around himself to transform into a burrito and was still sound asleep. Dan tiptoed to the door, and went out to the kitchen.

He made breakfast, Sarah made lunch and dinner. It was a system that worked, due to Dan's liking of being up early.

Dan checked the refrigerator. Ingredients for ... hmm ... He scanned the contents. French toast came to mind, so he pulled out the components and, after checking the bedroom one last time to make sure Phil wouldn't wake up panicked, began to cook.

Sarah came in around six thirty, still pulling on a hoodie.

"Hey." She still sounded sleepy.

"Good morning," Dan said pleasantly. He'd always been the morning person between the two. He passed her a plate of French toast, then went back into his bedroom to check on Phil. Still asleep.

"You staying home?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, I'll drop off a note."

"Thanks."

"No problem."

She left not too long after that, and Dan decided to bring his laptop into the bed and watch some anime.

Maybe Phil had seen it before and it would be familiar, maybe he hadn't seen it before and will really like it.

So he ate his French toast sitting on top of the blankets next to Phil, who seemed the most relaxed Dan had ever seen him.

a/n: hello! i hope your day has gone well

i've started a johnlock writing blog with a friend, and it'd mean a lot if you guys checked it out (godmolly.tumblr.com)

also as i'm writing this i'm listening to the black parade and it's silent and i think blood is playing