Dan was asleep, and, as much as Phil hated to admit it, he was pretty darn cute, too. 

Not that Dan seemed like the type to really realize it. Despite his overall confidence, Phil almost thought there was something deeper, behind every downward glance and every clenching fist. A sense of discomfort, almost. Not in talking to Phil; no, his words came out clear and strong, like he'd memorized a script just for this moment. But it seemed hardly likely that Dan, messy-haired, dog-eyed Dan, was anything other than the sarcastic, slightly arrogant persona he put forth. 

Then again, would it be so strange if there was something more? We all tend to do that, put up walls, fake our laughs, change ourselves to better click with who we're with. And, sometimes, we mold to that new us. It's like when a certain shirt or way of doing your makeup becomes so apart of your personality, it's impossible to remember what you were without it. 

Still, Phil didn't want to imagine it. He wanted to know that some people in this world were just okay, and that not everyone had to be fucked up inside. That, sometimes, we can just be calm. And Dan, little as he'd like to admit it, seemed like one of those people who deserved the calm, not the sadness or fear or anger. Just the peace.

And, the moment Phil thought this, Dan started to scream.