The figures dropped me, and I was fallingfallingfalling, into the dark pool of water that swallowed me and stole my breath. Joseph was there, waiting, his skeletal arms pulling me further under to where the rocks were slimy and light didn't reach. He dragged me still deeper, until I could feel the slimy bottom, and the sand filled my lungs as I took one last gasp -

I woke with a start, reaching immediately beside me for Phil. My fingers grasped only crumpled sheets. And one thing else - a note, hastily written on the back of a stiff blue sticky note, which I was lucky to even find underneath the mess of pillows. He had class this morning. I'd forgotten. Though, by then it was probably nearly over. He took morning classes to clear up more time during the day. I thought he was insane.

I rubbed my eyes, trying to catch onto the last dregs of my dream. It'd been a nightmare, or at least it had the feel of one. And Joseph was in it. I didn't have those sort of dreams often, but they happened. It was worse to wake up alone.

I read the note. It was the usual sort of thing, plans for the day (he had to work late) and a badly drawn stick figure. This one riding into battle against an army of goo monsters. "Phil Lester, you really have outdone yourself," I whispered, placing the note on my bureau in case I needed to reread it later.

Class had been canceled, and I felt oddly useless. I looked around the room, picking up the few stray items that dotted the floor. A hairbrush, an empty disk holder.

Our room was small, but bigger than some of the ones our friends had been put in. Enough room for two beds with drawers underneath (though, to be fair, one bed was mostly storage), two desks, and a center table with a bowl of candy. Phil wanted to keep cereal in it at first, but after some savage mice had almost killed me I had to put my foot down. Cereal stays in the cabinet, or in the stomach.

Other dorms were pretty half and half separated, but ours was one shared room. Our neighbor had come in during the first few weeks and remarked on how brotherly we were.

I wondered if I should go to the store, but decided that the walk was too much for me. All I really felt like doing was watching tv, but I still had about half an essay to write, which was due sometime soon. Phil would know when.

I looked out the window. It was snowing, which wasn't a surprise. The clouds were constantly dripping the white stuff, and I wasn't sure if I entirely approved. It got all mushy and gray in the streets, and melted in my hair in the most uncomfortable way. Still, Phil seemed to enjoy it, so I guess that was enough. He was talking about skiing sometime this year. I didn't have the heart to tell him that, with his clumsiness, his first time skiing would also be his last.

Christmas break had ended a few days ago, which was a disappointment in itself. Not only for the return to the monotony of school, but also because it meant the acceptable time to celebrate the season had passed. Phil had traveled to visit his father this year, and I mine, so we'd exchanged gifts via snail mail. Beyond a short video call, we hadn't done much of anything together.

Still, I thought, sighing to myself as I opened Google Docs, that doesn't mean anything. You'll have more Christmases together. It won't be the FIRST Christmas, sure, but it'll still be Christmas. Time is a construct anyway. And you'll get to celebrate last Christmas together someday, too! That'll be..fun.

I sighed again and closed my laptop. Time for more melancholy window staring.

I watched the people pass by on the street below, most of them near my age. It really was a college town; scarcely did I see anyone middle age save my professors. Though, to be fair, with my antisocial tendencies I scarcely saw anyone. Old or young.

I wonder how Jack is doing? I opened up my phone and shot him a quick text, disappointed when, twenty seconds later, he still had not replied. Anthony was the same. Tom, Shane, Ryland. All of them were offline.

Maybe I should - no. You have to learn to have friends without Phil. What about Trisha? What about the people you met at that party that one time?

"Yeah, Dan. That party one time ten years ago. Because they'll remember my face, much less name. But those drunk girls were really nice..."

"What drunk girls?" Phil stood before him, frowning. "You better not be hanging out with any drunk girls. You better not be kissing any drunk girls. You better not be kissing any girls. Or guys. Or any-fucking-body except maybe me."

"Maybe you?"

"If I'll allow it."

"You're not strong enough to resist." I blew him a kiss, which he waved away. Phil dropped his coat on the storage bed and walked closer, arms folded.

"What. Drunk. Girls." He demanded.

"The ones we met at that party. I was lonely. and thought you weren't going to be home for a while..."

"So you were going to invite them over?"

Warning. Warning. I held my hands up in surrender. "No, I was just going to text them. You weren't home!"

"Daniel -"

"I just realized I had no social life and wanted friends and please don't kill me!" I blurted, standing quickly. "Also I love you and no drunk girls are needed in my life. Not now, not ever."

"Careful, Dan. I'll get you a chastity belt if I have to."

"It'd be pretty useless."

He muttered something under his breath which sounded like idiot, but I chose to ignore it. "I came home early to surprise you," he explained, sitting down. "I realized we hadn't celebrated Christmas, and first Christmas is important, so I thought we could just watch The Grinch or something together."

"And make out?"

"That too."

"Well, it certainly is a surprise."

"Would you rather I invite Trisha over?"

"I don't need any drunk girls. I only need you. Bro."

"Bro."

I kissed him and grabbed my laptop. We climbed under the covers and watched the movie, shielded from the wind and cold by the walls and blanket and each other. It struck me, not for the first time, that this was it. Phil and I, here, together, was what I had been dreaming of for so long. I wasn't lonely anymore. Far from it.

Stars are born of tornadoes, which create dust. Which cause damage and heartache, and are alone enough to destroy something that has been years in the making in a single minute. But despite this, stars glow, and they persevere.

They exist. That is enough.