And so their strange friendship began. Well, strange to those not experiencing it.

From the outside, it looked like some sort of kidnapping, seeing as Phil would stay in Dan's room so his mum wouldn't see him and they would sneak around when she was home.

But to Dan, he knew it was something made to be. He and Phil clicked. Phil didn't like to talk too much, but Dan could understand him through facial expressions and hand gestures.

The weather got colder as the year got older, and Dan had managed to keep Phil a secret from his mum and taught him some things about his world.

Dan hadn't thought to bring Phil to school yet; he didn't want to share Phil with the rest of the world. They didn't deserve him.

Just the other day, he recalled, Sarah had been running a little late and was stressed about her messy appearance. Phil had simply pushed a strand of hair out of her face and whispered "Pretty." The same he had done for Dan, and it was remarkable how Sarah's shoulders seemed to melt as she pulled him into a hug.

It made Dan's insides warm, seeing Phil be such a wonderful, calming presence. Sometimes he'd wake up in the middle of the night with blankets covering him when he could have sworn he'd given them to Phil, or the tea he thought had gone cold becoming warm again to Dan's touch.

No, Phil was his secret. For now, at least.

As Phil seemed to get happier with each day, the daffodil seemed to grow healthier.

Dan didn't understand it, but decided not everything needed an explanation. Sometimes knowing ruins the magic.

His clothes had turned into their clothes, his bed their bed, his life their life.

They'd ride Dan's bike or simply walk around the peaceful parts of town. They'd eat cereal in their room in the middle of the night, smiling at a long-lost joke.

Dan had never had a best friend before. He decided he loved the feelings, every single one of them. The feeling of peacefulness when they'd just sit in silence and look at each other, taking it all in. The feeling of warmth when their sides touched underneath the duvet. The feeling of butterflies when Phil's face was just a little closer than normal, with their arms intertwined and fingers interlaced.

It was sometime in February, and a weekend (meaning Sarah would let the two of them stay up later). The moonlight poured through the window and little specks of something were floating through the air, catching the beams and making Dan feel as if he were in a dream.

Phil's marble skin was glowing, and his eyelashes made dark crescents on his cheeks, and his pink lips formed the ghost of a smile.

He seemed ethereal in the moment, a crystal too delicate to be crafted by man.

They were crammed much too close in the armchair by the cold, cold glass, but Dan didn't want to move. He was afraid moving too much would shatter the scene.

He woke up the next morning feeling strangely weightless. He wasn't sure what had caused it, but the air smelled ... warm? (Warmth did have a scent, sort of. Or maybe it was the feelings associated with warmth. Like fabric fresh out of the dryer or sinking into a hot bath.)

He got up, poured himself some orange juice, fed the cat, made breakfast. Leaving the plates on the counter, he padded back into their bedroom and slipped into his clothes.

Phil still wasn't awake yet. Dan sat on his bed and looked at the other boy, who hadn't divulged anything about where he was from or what happened to him in all the time he'd been there.

Dan had wanted to ask, yes, but he also didn't want to push Phil into a direction the latter didn't want. On the one hand, it was a delicate situation. Phil's past could have been something better forgotten; left buried in his mind, where it wasn't Dan's place to dig back up.

On the other hand, though, Dan thought he had a right to know at least the big picture. All the nights where Phil had woken up, shaking uncontrollably, where Dan had held him until he'd calmed down enough to fall back asleep.

Not that he was complaining; it was just ... he wanted to know. It seemed he was in this for the long haul, and being on board with that idea would require at least a bit of explaining on Phil's part.

He looked at Phil now, whose face looked smooth as marble in a seemingly dreamless sleep. Dan wanted to know Phil, know his story and his thoughts and his fears, if only to give the boy everything he deserved.

I want to know you from the inside out, Dan thought. He made a vow to try.

Phil shifted slightly under the covers, and a movement from the other side of the room caught Dan's wary eye. It was the daffodil, twitching slightly.

Sarah came home from work one day sporting a smile. Albeit a tired one, it made her eyes sparkle in a way that always made Dan appreciate her. He did have to ask, though.

"What's got you so smiley?" He leaned on the wooden chair at the dining table as she and Phil sat down.

"Something you may or may not find in the driveway next to your bike," she answered. Seeing her little brother perk up, she hastily added an "after dinner," motioning with her eyes down to his untouched plate.

The something, he and Phil found out, was a bike.

"Guy at work's little brother outgrew it. Said he was gonna take it to the dump."

Dan looked at it. "Couldn't he have sold it?"

She just shrugged. "Jack's not the brightest, I'd say. Don't think it crossed his mind. Now, be back by ten, you two."

"Thanks, Sarah!" they said in unison, hugging her before she went back inside.

There was just one problem.

"You don't know how to ride a bike, do you, Phil?"

Phil seemed abashed as he shook his head. This didn't deter Dan, though.

"Well, I can teach you! It's real easy once you get the hang of it."

Phil didn't think it was 'real easy,' as his best friend had put it. But that didn't mean he didn't try.

He just had a bit of trouble balancing. Now he was on the bike while Dan walked beside him, keeping a light grip on both Phil's waist and one of the hands holding the handlebars.

It was going quite well, until a couple things happened at once.

There was a voice behind them, saying something Phil couldn't quite make out.

Dan tensed, his body stiffening and his grasp becoming almost viselike on Phil.

Phil tensed in turn, more by the change in atmosphere than anything, and promptly fell off the bike.

Dan let out a noise of surprise and instantly helped Phil back on his feet, all the while facing the voice and dusting off his purple sweater.

He sounded tired as he responded. "What do you want, Vaughn?"

Phil could see now that the voice was coming from the road they'd just turned off of. It was another boy, one with dark hair and a cruel smile.

"Just to make sure the rest of us will be safe," he said, not faltering in his stride.

"From what?"

"From you two, of course! I always knew you were a freak, Howell, but now you're a queer freak? Who's your boyfriend? He's so pale, sure he's not a ghost?"

"Vaughn, you're so idiotic, sure you're not in kindergarten? Leave us alone." Dan spat.

"Is he mute? Deaf? Is that why he never does anything?"

"Are you deaf? I said leave us alone."

Vaughn opened his mouth to retort, but at that moment he tripped over a rock that Dan swore hadn't been there before. (Not that he was complaining, or anything.) And the damage was surprisingly intense for what had happened: a large cut had appeared on his arm.

Dan vaguely remembered from a traumatizing gym class that Vaughn grew nauseous at the sight of blood, and turned away, leading Phil to the same.

Phil looked back one more time, looking as if he was hiding a smile. Dan slipped an arm around his shoulders as they picked up where they left off.

a/n: y'all ... it was really hard to write people being so mean to them ... i would've had vaughn have a rude nickname for dan like in the show, but i just couldn't do it