This AMAZING artwork of the haircut scene was created by the incredibly talented luiselovesglitter and I cannot stop staring at/obsessing over it. It means more than anything to see something so beautiful inspired by my story. I'm speechless. thank you so much!! :')

Drink up with me now and forget all about
The pressure of days, do what I say
And I'll make you okay- drive them away
The images stuck in your head.
-Elliot Smith, Between the Bars

Phil

Dan is so much more anxious than he's letting on.
I highly doubt he thinks he's fooling me exactly, but he also seems determined not to share anything his mind is thinking. His face is set and stony but I can see the way his hands still shake, the obvious internal struggle driving me crazy and adding to our ever-growing tangle of nerves. I remember the path to the cafeteria from earlier today, it's around the corner from our narrow hallway and through a set of double doors into another, and so I take the lead, following the landmarks and watching my best friend out of the corner of my eye.

It catches me off guard for some reason to to find that every time I glance back at him  he's staring right at me. I know a nightmare can be awful but never would I have expected his mind to take it so far, whatever the heck he saw has actually shaken him, and though I don't know exactly what happened, he's already told me what he saw happen to me.

He saw someone kill me. And not just that, it was Wirrow that killed me, and from what he's described apparently his dream-self couldn't do much more than look on.

Don't psychoanalyze me, he'd told me once when we'd been on the road somewhere and I forced him to tell me what had been in the dream that'd happened that night. They don't mean anything. They're just nightmares.

Surely he knows I wouldn't, he just doesn't want me to try and comfort him. That doesn't stop me from thinking it over again and again in my head, trying to comprehend the idea that this has actually happened.

Dan doesn't want me to know what he's feeling but right now I need to know more than ever, because that sort of thing doesn't come out of nowhere. I'd be lying if I said it wasn't scary that that's what fear is choosing to occupy his mind. It's not so much the impermanence of life, my life specifically, that's worrying me, it's more that Dan's fear is that he could lose me. All this afternoon I'd been going on trying to reassure him that he wasn't dying, that his fish wound hadn't affected him, and it turns out he hardly cares.

I don't know why exactly he told me anything. Usually he assures me I'm better off not knowing, yet here I am in the dark with him, seeking out answers after being woken rather jarringly from sleep.

It doesn't help that it's around two or three in the morning, although there is something oddly thrilling about wandering around the darkened facility where we know almost no one, the hallways too wide and long for just two people. I can hear the sounds of the party distantly and can see squares of moonlight on the floor where windows let it in, feeling a brief wash of calm at the odd serenity of it all. Nobody's around to bother us, nor are we outside where zombies wandering in is an uncertain and constant hazard. No- there's nothing, and until this moment I hadn't realized just how much time we've gone without that. I slow my steps a little, gathering up my thoughts which have begun to cloud slightly.

I can feel Dan's eyes on me again. This wouldn't be a problem except for the fact that I'm all-too aware of where his mind is at, at least roughly, and I'm also in huge danger of blushing at the prolonged attention. He's usually (in the kindest way possible) indifferent outwardly about everything. As the party sounds become more amplified and the cafeteria doors, shut currently, appear a ways down the hallway I pause, turning to face him as we pass beneath the light of a window.

As soon as he notices I'm staring back he turns his head away casually, trying to play it off as if he'd never been fixed on me in the first place. He keeps walking, too preoccupied to notice I've stopped and I end up catching him by the sleeve, halting him in his tracks so abruptly he stiffens, disliking unwarranted touches of any kind.

"What?" He whispers irritably, pulling his sleeve free of the hold I'd forgotten I had on him.

I stop short, unexpectedly distracted by the sight of him. In this light his skin has a pearly glow to it, cool and soft and contrasting with his recently shortened curls. The curls themselves are pushed back off his forehead in a totally accidental quiff, which he must have acquired in sleep seeing how he likes to hide as much of himself away as possible, this including his narrow body with oversized hoodies and his face with strands of brown hair. His eyes are tired but bright and alert, his expression soft beneath the irritable turning down of his mouth's corners.

God, he's beautiful. His face is so distractingly expressive right now, his warm colours so out of place in this place where everything from the floors to the doors to the wall are grey or black like the night. He somehow even manages to make frowning look lovely, a part of his personality that would be unfit to most people, but for some reason he suits.

"Phil."

I jump, blinking back to reality and meeting his incredibly confused stare.

"Oh. Yeah?"

"Why did we stop?" He runs a hand through his shortened fringe and looks coolly at me, and under this lighting I realize his eyes are red and watery. He seems to remember this and looks away deliberately, stepping up to stare out the window while hiding his face.

This makes any thoughts I'd just been having screech to a jarring halt. Was he crying? It's clear suddenly. The visions affected him worse than he's let on, and I feel a lump in my throat, wanting reach out to him. He seems to sense this, tensing all at once and stubbornly looking away from me.

"Don't." He spits abruptly.

"But Dan-"

He takes a deep breath and grips the dirty sill with his fingers, drawing lines in the thin layer of dust.

"No. I don't want to talk about it."

I bite my lip and move to stand next to him, side by side so that we're both looking out the window. He doesn't accept nor protest this movement, determinedly ignoring me mostly. I reach out with my fingers and tentatively consider taking his hand.

His breaths are slow and level. I can practically hear his mind racing as he looks up at the moon, letting the pale glow wash over his features, practically see the stress he's hiding away. The city is silent, no zombies at the gate right now, and the peace seems almost ironic, given how much is going on internally.

I place my hands on the sill instead. "You don't have to keep it in your head." I argue. "You already know I'm not going anywhere."

"Look at the city." He says softly, ignoring me.

For a moment I'm confused but I do as he says, gazing out at the yard. Looking out, I can see to the left the stretch of the bunker, the large, square enclosure rising up behind it where the factory's attached. To the right is a chain link fence that would have stopped trespassers before the outbreak, and straight ahead there's the alleyway that leads to the train tracks, the city skyline rising off distant and black in a jumbled, linear shape. Even in the dark a slight haze hangs in the air, blurring the moon's appearance and scenting the air like smoke.

It's somewhere between night and morning. Without the city lights it's almost like we're still back at camp, stars bright and abundant and scattered in the sky.

"It's kind of beautiful, in a strange sort of way." He mumbles. "It feels like another reality. All the broken buildings and empty streets, I feel like I should paint it or something."

A light flickers in a building far off in the distance but then quickly goes out. Perhaps it's just a figment of my imagination. I can see rows of unlit streetlamps and power lines still standing the way they always have and it makes me feel funny, unsure of what to think. I lean against Dan's shoulder and swallow my nerves, edging my arm over uncertainly and gently playing with his fingers.

"I can't see you painting when you can't even draw for shit." I remind him, a lame, weak joke at the best of times that's definitely not relevant now. My heart is fluttering nervously but I persist, because at the same time it's calming since I can't wrap my arms around him.

To my surprise though he laughs, making a heavy weight lift off my shoulders.

"It's true." He agrees, catching one of my fingers with his pointer and tugging absently. "My point was more on the visual, but I appreciate the lateral thinking."

My mind tries to think up a quirky reply but mostly I'm focused on our interwined fingers, gazing at them maybe a little too idiotically to be discrete.

"Thanks." I mumble, pink tinting my cheeks.

"It's like something out of a movie. What if we woke up one day and this was all in our imaginations?" He asks rhetorically, existential all over again. "Like literally, what would you do?"

That's an incredibly loaded question. So many things have happened and so much of life has changed. Things I took for granted would hold a much greater meaning than they did then, my petty personal issues would cease to matter. To wake up in the world where I didn't have a scar on my head, where Dan didn't have any nightmares and where everyone I knew, even those I disliked a little were alive- how would I even exist in that place? Would I get up and make a bowl of cereal, sit down on my sofa with a blanket wrapped around me and a game controller in my hand as if nothing had happened? What would Dan and I do? Would we stay close and keep the same bond, would we become... more than this?

"Are you assuming we'd both wake up after the same nightmare? Or would one of us not have a clue?"

He pulls his hand away, tapping mindlessly against the dust without any real rhythm. "Good question Phil. Never mind, It's a stupid thing to ask you anyway. I know it's impossible." He seems to visibly give up on his own topic, shoulders sinking and the topic dying with a dismissive wave of his hand. "This is obviously real. My imagination isn't fucked up enough to conjure this."

Immediately after he says this it's like the same thought occurs to us both simultaneously: His imagination killed me. He looks away again, refusing to acknowledge the fact, but were surely both thinking it.

The somber mood returns and I sigh slightly as his brow creases, seeing him abruptly turn around to head back down the hallway to our intended destination. I trail behind until we're walking the same pace again, side by side as always but not speaking while my mind wanders off.

I think I'd tell him, I think to myself as our footsteps ring out in sync in the quiet. If I woke up and realized life was so glaringly normal and easy, I'd probably do it as soon as I could. It's a little sad that the whole scenario is neatly constructed in my head.

I'd surprise him by bidding goodnight on a Skype call and then promptly dropping into his uni hall without announcing the next day. It'd be a midday train so I'd arrive after his mentally wearing Law classes that he'd known long ago didn't fit him as a person, a pleasant surprise that would be welcomed with the privilege of one of his rare bear hugs and a smile that would make my chest feel warm all the way from the flutter of my heart to the tips of my fingers, making the whole long journey worth it.

The University of Manchester, though slightly prison-y to some degree in terms of the dorm aesthetic was a great place to go to for walks, the surrounding city would have plenty to do. I'd take him to his favourite coffee shop, or to the milkshake place that knew his order with the Maltesers because he went there so much, maybe up the Manchester eye like some crazy serial romantic where he'd have a spectacular view of the city. We'd be talking and laughing in the stupid way we do, discussing who actually won at Mariokart or why all the guys our age on TV always have abs, and then we'd lapse into silence, a comfortable one, just as we always did.

He'd be sitting there happily and maybe his head would find my shoulder as he got tired. I'd hug him tightly, enjoying the intimacy and isolation of wherever we were, maybe he'd be so comfy it wouldn't even be that odd , but just a hug, and then I'd tell him. I know I'd be nervous but he'd be okay with that, and in contrast to the difficulty and fears and the complexities our relationship in this life it would be nothing, no strings attached, not really. Id just kind of sit up, look out at the skyline with his brown hair in the corner of my vision, and I'd say it:

Dan... I just want to tell you... and I know it sounds crazy- but I love you. I'm in love with you.

But the scenario ends there, and it ends for two reasons. Firstly, I can't bring myself to imagine past that. It's terrifying and feels weird to think about, knowing full well that I can't even imagine him knowing my thoughts that run like this. But more importantly, it can't happen. It can't happen and it won't, because a guy in love with his guy best friend seems so painfully common, one guy is gay and the other one unknown and it just doesn't work. And it's not that I know this concretely, Dan could be anything he wants, but it almost feels wrong to be in love here and now. There's so much to worry about and so much is at stake, it's insulting to our survival that I'm wasting so much time. I can't exactly stop it though.

The party sounds grow increasingly louder as we draw nearer to the door. One of the doors is shut but the other is propped open, and so Dan and I peer into the opening, trying not to be too obvious due to how many strangers are currently in the building.

"About what I said earlier..." I say quickly, hoping to apologize for making him unhappy and also quietly hoping he'll tell me what he's feeling about his nightmare. I try to keep my tone soft and free of pity, because I know he hates that and won't attempt to answer at all if I take that route.

"Stop. Don't do this." He whispers, cutting me off quickly. At first I think about insisting on doing it anyway, sure that he's just afraid of the vulnerability. But then I see the pain in his eyes that tells me he doesn't mean any of what he's saying. He's building up the wall, reinforcing it again, because he's truly afraid of losing me but is unsure of how to articulate it into words that would sound normal coming out of his mouth. "I can't talk about that right now, okay?" he continues honestly. "I just don't want to."

He turns to skim over the heads of the crowd, observing every face and I watch his fingers clench into fists, see him shoot me a quick glance before again looking away, just making sure, I realize, that I'm there.

"You'll feel better if you do." I say gently, keeping my eyes on his face. "Are you sure?"

He pauses for a moment, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply, then lets out a sigh with a shake of his head. I expect with the sharp expression for there to be a followup snapping reply to cut off the discussion before he ends up feeling too much, so it comes as a shock to me when instead he drops his gaze to his hands, simply looking lost.

"I don't know."

Most, if not all of the partygoers are drunk. Nobody acknowledges the two of us hovering by the door, and I appreciate the loud voices and music that drown us out, keeping this between me and him. He shakes his head again and fiddles with his fingers, reluctant to say any more.

"You don't have to tell me ever if you don't want to." I decide suddenly. It's clear that Dan's not telling me something, but that doesn't have to be a bad thing. He wants to avoid discussing the dream for the same reason I want to know about it so badly: it was about me. This much strong emotion for him is stressful and it's unfair to push him after all. I'm one to talk when it comes to honesty about feelings, and it's that acknowledgement that has me allowing myself to leave him be. I know the feeling all too well. "We'll talk about it later, if and when you're ready. It's okay to worry about me you know. It just means that you care, and that matters to me a lot."

He's silent for a moment and his gaze isn't fixed on me so at first I wonder if he even heard me. I feel awkward with such heavy words hanging tangible in the air, like someone could snatch them up and shove them in my face when my words are nothing but meaningful. The party sounds are too loud and I lean against the closed door for a moment, eyes on the darkened hallway as I overthink.

Then Dan looks over at me, not smiling or frowning or anything particularly strong but just calm, a soft, appreciative expression that while serious, does not conceal the meaning of what's hanging in the air.

"I know, Phil." He answers quietly, "I... thank you."

He stretches out a hand somewhat hesitantly and gives my wrist a reassuring squeeze, making me feel a strange mix of happiness and sadness at the exact same time. It's a bittersweet feeling, the motion rising out of an admission of pain yet reinstating the promise that we have that is known but unspoken, a coexistence that might be dangerous but means more than I can say.

Love you. My mind thinks as his hand draws away and we go back to searching for our friends. I wonder if Dan's ever had someone say that to him. His story is about as murky as mine is clear, my memories well-documented in the accounts of myself and others. I learned a long time ago who I was and why I was like this, never once questioning why I feel the things I feel or whether or not my personality was okay. I'm just Phil and I always will be, it's almost unfair that Dan has to struggle for all of it.

The cafeteria is totally packed. I steady my hold on the door frame and look in, uneasy at how wasted everybody is. They're all well-dressed, at least in comparison to the worn jeans and two hoodies I'd been in up until yesterday. They're all wearing fresh clothes and new shoes, athletic wear from high-end places that should be broken to dust in this life. A man in a high-tech black jacket is standing on top of the table, he shouts something that I can't hear over the riot other than the word "progress!" but it's met with a rousing cheer. Hands reach out for cups laid out on the tables and everybody drinks, screaming and shouting and dancing up a storm.

There's lots I could say about the state of the host party, one of them being that the action seems ill-fitting for a giant old bunker that used to be a solar panel factory, but the main thing I notice after only a few minutes is that I don't see Mark, Cat, Felix or PJ anywhere. All of these people are strangers, and I lose myself in gawking at them for a second, Dan looking over my shoulder in a similar stunned state.

"Not in the caf and not in their bedrooms." Dan states, voicing my thoughts exactly. "I seriously hope we just missed them, please don't let this be worse than I think."

An uneasy knot twists in my stomach. "Don't worry," I tell him rather unconvincingly, "they're probably around here somewhere sneaking around just like us. There's no reason for us to assume anything."

"I'm glad you're optimistic because without you I'd be freaking the fuck out." He murmurs. "It's not as if they'd actually be like-"

Then a shoe scuffs behind us.

Dan jumps violently, whipping around with his fists at his side as if we've been caught in the act of doing something wrong. I catch sight of the person in our proximity and relax for just a moment upon recognizing the face, before immediately feeling nervous again when I see that he's not alone.

"Chris." I blurt, the name sprouting to mind as PJ's excitement is still fresh in my memory.

The guy seems to recognize us vaguely but he starts all the same when I say this, dark eyes in this lighting staring right at me. Behind him there's two other guys; Phil from earlier and a stranger whose height rivals mine and Dan's, both frowning  in surprise of finding us in the doorway at this hour no doubt.

A small thrill of excitement courses through me when I see Chris, this elusive guy who's met with all of our friends and PJ is in love with. The person who kissed him when they were reunited, who is half-light and yet still somehow sane enough to function like Cat, the one who has the sort of thing I really want. His existence aligns perfectly with my thoughts at the moment, it's fascinating.

He frowns confusedly at me. "How do you know my name?"

"My name's Phil," I say quickly, avoiding other Phil's stare as the memory of our last encounter creeps in awkwardly. I gesture to Dan, who has gone stiff next to me. "-And this is Dan. We're with your uh, boyfriend."

His eyebrows go up at this mention. "You know PJ."

"Yes. We're the guys who came in with Mark. You saw us briefly in the caf today?"

"Oh yeah, you came in with Wirrow." He says with a nod, seemingly to recall the moment. "Phil and Dan. I remember now. They talked about you guys, sort of, while we were walking."

"Nice to meet you, I guess." I say lightly. He doesn't answer, looking at us with a much more avid attention now. I find it strange that he's still unsmiling, he seemed so easygoing earlier when he'd greeted us as a group.

"Is he your boyfriend?" Chris asks, looking between Dan and I without much of an indication to his thoughts. I nearly choke on my own tongue and despite myself look at Dan, whose eyes are wide with surprise. I can feel myself growing rapidly flustered and try not to show it now, it feels like everyone's eyes are on my face.

"No." Dan says hurriedly, raising his eyebrows at the half-light with a frown.

"N-no." I stammer, "he's... we're best friends."

Chris raises his eyebrows. "Oh. Sorry."

Then Phil steps forward and puts a hand on his shoulder, shooting him a look. Chris's expression shifts noticeably, and he looks up at us with a strange expression.

"Why are you here?" He asks suddenly.

"We're looking for Mark and them," I say cautiously, wishing someone would laugh or smile and not make us feel like we're trespassing.

"At three in the morning?"

I don't know what to say to that, and it turns out it's not necessary.

"You know, I was hoping I would run into you two alone." He says suddenly, the look he gives us rather unsettling.

Dan tenses next to me, hesitantly moving backwards a step. "What?"

Then Chris is stepping back, and the two men step forward. Dan is yanked sideways and the other seizes my wrist, pinning it behind my back and clamping a hand over my mouth. Fear jolts through my chest and I twist in his grip, panicking as it grows increasingly harder to move.

And then we're being dragged away from the door, fighting and kicking while we're roughly dragged without a word.

A door across the hall that I'd taken to be a supply cupboard earlier is pulled open and they take us in, shutting the door and letting us go briefly.

I step forward, grabbing for my axe and trying to simultaneously reach Dan, before remembering we left our weapons back in the bedroom. We have nothing but our bare hands.

"I hate to do this to you." Chris says flatly, looking on while Phil pushes me back. The room is dark except for a dimly glowing bulb, making me feel claustrophobic and terrified all at once. "But who knows when I'll get this chance again. The man's gonna thank me for keeping it on the down-low like this."

The man? I see Dan's eyes go wide and he looks wildly at me, trying to push aside Phil's restraining arm while the other guy grips painfully onto my shoulder, keeping me in place. I don't know what's happening.

"What are you doing?" Dan spits, looking at Chris defiantly.

"Are you stupid?" The bluntness of the comment catches me off guard and I look at Chris's thin, slight frame, so gentle-looking and out of place for the words coming from his mouth. "Your friends have been missing for almost four hours and you didn't notice?"

My mouth goes dry and my heart starts pounding. "What?"

"They have PJ." He says frantically, eyes darting between the thugs on either side of him as if he shouldn't be displaying this sort of weakness. Dread settles in all at once as I realize where this is going. "I've known about you since you killed that half light leader in the forest camp, and the man wants one of you. I don't know which one. Wirrow was sent out to find you but I don't think he realized the truth of the initiative, and the man, I think he's dissatisfied with how long it's all taking. So he took PJ."

"I suggest cooperating." Phil growls, grinning amusedly in the most expressive way I've seen thus far. "We'd hate for anyone to get hurt."

The man. Chris has been trying to find us since before we got here, his boyfriend's life being hung in the balance to assure he did what was asked of him. Someone is using him, has him wrapped around their finger with a power that has people like Phil following him like some massive gang organization-

"You're with the Confederation." I realize, my heart ramming against my ribs as he hardly reacts, just looking at me almost disappointedly. "That's why you want us."

"Well done!" Chris shouts sarcastically, throwing out his arms in a grand gesture. "What were you expecting? I'd be dead without them. An interesting little fact for you, everyone at that little hosted party is, there's a massive gathering tonight."

The sounds of the party through the door swell suddenly, adding to the chaos of everything. The safety of last night vanishes instantly, an all-too familiar sinking feeling replacing it.

"But Mark and Felix-"

"You honestly think I care about them?" Chris blurts, his face conflicted as he says so. Shock hits me like a punch in the gut, the full depth and capacity of this betrayal brought to light. It had never even crossed my mind that he wouldn't have been loyal to his friends, that something could possibly have been. An unfortunate assumption, clearly.

The worst part is, I'm not as surprised as I should be. The biggest difference is that it's not Wirrow, it's worse because this is someone we thought we trusted. "They left me for dead back in Brighton."

He takes a deep breath as if he's been keeping all this in for a while, unable to stop now he's started. "Did they tell you some heroic story of supreme sacrifice when you learned about me?" He asks, his eyes daring me to actually answer. "Did they say they had no other choice? Because the last thing I remember is being bitten by a zombie and then, when I woke up, I was alone. Alone in a goddamn decimated city without a bullet wound or anyone in sight. It'd been just Mark and Felix when it happened, PJ was wounded and off with the guy who had immunity, and they didn't stop to save me. They didn't even have the decency to shoot me. So this is what I am, I'll be happy to see whatever happen to them, do whatever to their new friends."

"So you'll leave us to die as long as you get your boyfriend back?" I exclaim. "You'll betray Mark and Felix?"

"No I-"

"That's exactly what you're doing!" Dan shouts as his arms are pinned back by Chris's companion.

Chris's face crumples. "I did what I had to!" He screams, seeming to forget his own acting and composure. "The confederation always wins! I just want him safe again, I don't care about the others! They just want you guys."

They just want us. The confederation knows who we are, where we are, and I'm starting to get an idea of the apparent source of their information. My heart starts beating rapidly as I try to back out of the hold on my arm but to no avail.

"You told them about Dan?" I blurt, and his eyes dart nervously again, concerned, I realize, about being caught. I open my mouth to scream for help, to catch someone's attention, and the guy who has me pinned seems to sense this, slamming his fist into my stomach and making me gasp.

"No! Not me." Chris hisses. "Someone else. I'm not allowed to talk about those things."

"Oh no, wouldn't want to disappoint the Man." Dan spits, his impulsive anger unable to be contained any longer. "Better to let millions of people die to a brain-eating disease than deal with my own petty personal issues-"

"-shut up!" Chris screams, lunging forward and yanking Dan's sweater collar so that he's forced to look up.

I feel the hold on me loosen as the guy holding me watches transfixed, the dangerous look on Chris's face distorting his features. I feel like throwing up, my heart pounding as I try to think of an escape. We can't go with him. I don't know what the scientists want with us but I can guess, I know what they've created.

He nods to Dan. "Take him out, get him ready to join the party."

"No." I exclaim, and Dan's eyes meet mine, our hands shooting out to reach the other before a crony loops his arms around my chest, yanking me back. "NO!"

I kick the man hard in the shins and twist like a wild animal, desperately trying to wrench free as the other Phil slaps a hand over Dan's mouth, using the help of his powerful frame to drag him away. I'm running uselessly in place, trying to break away and reach him. They can't separate us.

I bite the crony's hand, tasting blood and gagging slightly but it works, his grip falters and I burst into a run, reaching for Dan's arm as he pulled through the door- and a fist connects with the side of my face.

I gasp as my knees buckle and I slam into the ground, catching myself with my arms but scraping them on the rough surface. The door slams shut and Chris, who'd punched me just moments before, grabs me by the hair, using the help of the other guy to pin me against the shelves, the uneven surface and cold stainless steel digging into my back. My breaths are coming out sharp and fast, my eyes screwed shut in pain as he grips the short strands, the ones that Dan had cut just a few hours earlier, making me wince.

"Shouldn't have let me get you alone, Phil." He taunts, slipping a gun out of his pocket and placing it against my head. I try not to react outwardly at the cool black metal against my skin, but my heart is pounding so hard and I'm shaking. I wonder if he relishes in the fact that I'm afraid.

"Now, I don't have to kill you." He says, like a teacher giving project choices. "This can all go very smoothly if you don't resist, it'll be much less painful actually. And don't even think about calling for help." He adds, glaring at me remorselessly. "If you do that I'll send away Marcus here, and he'll have Dan killed right away. All at once. But you won't do that right? After all, Dan looks like he means a lot to you."

I swallow hard, tasting blood as I realize I bit my cheek when I fell. My cheek is throbbing where his fist struck me and I don't even resist as pain spikes through me in combination with fear for Dan, a tear rolling down my cheek in reaction.

Chris doesn't even comment, just takes my silence as the answer he wanted. "Great." He mutters, and I hear the sound of liquid pouring beside me, feel a plastic cup being thrust into my shaking hand.

"I'm gonna tell you what I want you to do," Chris says quietly, "and if you listen, you won't have to do this by yourself and you'll be taken out of here with no repercussion or consequence to your friends." I hold the cup but my eyes are on the gun, looking up at him as he goes to continue. "This drink is a mixture of a choice few ingredients, vodka and whiskey to name a few, and it's not being given to you because it tastes pleasant, in fact I'm afraid it won't. You're going to drink it, all of it, and then we'll be sending you into the caf where you will stay for the party. Everyone leaves out the same door at dawn, back to the confederation bunker, and as long as I find you in that room when I come back, I'll get PJ back, you'll be escorted nonviolently and I'll release your friends. That's not so hard, is it?"

He indicates the cup, leering at me as I struggle to hold it steadily. The smell coming off of it is horrible and I know full well I've never handled alcohol well in the first place, always opting for fruity cocktails while everyone else went wild. Even the wine yesterday was a bit much, I had to give it to Dan. He wants me drunk and unsteady so I cooperate easier, and I wonder just how long he's had this plan in mind. Where did the drink come from? Did they keep it in here?

"Drink all this, and you can go right back to Danny." he croons, twisting Dan's name as he happily mocks me.

"What-" I croak, heart pounding in my chest, "why are you doing this?!"

"It's not poison, dumbass." He spits. His friend steps forward and grips my chin in his fingers, pressing my lips into a pursed motion and forcing the cup to my mouth. I sputter, the burning liquid searing my throat as I swallow it to avoid choking- the taste is horrible, but he loosens his grip as I comply.

My mind is fighting me as the drink enters my bloodstream. This has to be a mistake. Dan and I are just people. If they take us to the confederation we'll have nothing to offer and then when they can't get anything out of us we could be be tortured- maybe even killed.

"Please." I gasp, trying to take in air between the persistent push of the cup to my mouth. "You don't want us. We're just two ordinary people."

"Shut up." He spits, en lieu of an answer, and then the drink is back.

I don't know how many times this repeats. My heart pounds as I start to feel the effects of it, and still another gulp is pushed to my mouth before I'm flinching, breathing deeply as my my head beings to feel lightweight. The liquid is searing my throat, I can't get any more of it down and I press my mouth shut, groaning as pain spikes in my gut.

"Can't-" I end up gasping, the agonizing feeling amounting to the point where I can't take anymore without seeing spots before my eyes. Chris gives me a mildly annoyed look, borderline pissed because I'm not following his instructions, though he does raise his hand, making the guy stop. I forget about staying steady and tip my head back, groaning as my vision refuses to stay linear.

"Hey, breathe." Chris says, a phrase that would normally be reassuring but he's twisted to sound condescending. I press my fingers against my temples and bite my lip hard, tension stinging my shoulders and my mind reeling, unable to think about anything but Dan. Where is he? What are they doing to him?

"I have to to say, Phil." He murmurs, smirking slightly. "I'm glad you're not putting up a fight. That's a pretty face you have there, it'd suck to hurt you. Especially since you're friends with PJ."

I don't give him the satisfaction of an answer.

"Don't give me that look!" He exclaims angrily. "I can't have you running off tonight. Just join the party and don't go looking for Wirrow to help you, cause he's not here."

This is the part in the story where the hero stands his ground. Where he shakes his head defiantly, refuses to play by the rules. I should tell Chris that I'm not here to do his bidding, ask why he can't muster up the balls to free his boyfriend and escape. But that's not what I do. All I can think of is compliance, it'll get me back to Dan. So I comply almost too easily, fear overtaking any kind of heroism.

He looks at me expectantly and it's clear he wants a response. I close my eyes and the pain ebbs a little, allowing me to assemble a few words.

"I-" my voice sounds choked and I cough to fix it, making the other guy snicker. "I'm not."

"All right." He chuckles. "You're good, then. I'll send you off back into the room, and you can go find Danny." I struggle to stand up and my legs wobble, my whole body feeling shaky. He grabs my shoulder and hoists me up roughly, pulling open the door with his other hand and following a few steps behind.

"Remember, if you try anything at all-"

He smirks at me and I press my mouth shut, thinking only about Dan now that I'm back on my feet. My mouth tastes foul but I can still walk and think fairly clearly. I wonder why these guys are leaving me at the party for the night. I don't plan on questioning it, my mind is full of hopefulness that I'll be able to sneak off.

At least until we reach the door and enter. Chris and the crony, Marcus take me through with painful grips on each arm, showing me to a guard who has a knife tucked into his belt. They converse quickly in low voices about something I can't hear, and then Marcus pushes me into view.

"This is the one I told you about, Rigor." Chris tells him confidentially and the man looks at me with sudden interest, heavy black eyebrows creasing in a sneer. "I want you to keep him and the other one here for the night, we'll take them back to Broxbourne tomorrow with the rest. These are the two that the man has been looking for since our sources told him about them. We need them together, and we need them alive."

Dan. He means Dan. They're talking about him but I don't see him anywhere, I suddenly feel very, very sick.

"But that means I'll have to watch everyone." the guard complains. "They're surely gonna notice a stranger. What's that about then?"

He sounds like he's pouting about babysitting children. I can feel my anxiety building as I fail to see Dan, terrified that the other guy will never bring him back and I'll be alone without him, never getting the chance to get out alive together.

"You don't understand." Chris says darkly. He shoots me a look that makes my stomach twist, too amused and knowing that I don't want to see.

"Only the one is important to the cause but we need him-" he gestures to me, " -as well. It's the only way for the confederation to get the subject to do exactly what we want. He's a fighter, I bet Marcus is learning that right now, but he'll be much more compliant if he sees his Philly's life on the line."

I feel a jolt of horror as the full impact of the words hit, their intentions clear all at once.

"Keep him alive for three more hours, Rigor." Chris tells him. "We can't use him against anyone if he's dead."

~~~

The crowd is stifling and I press myself against the wall, frantically trying to locate an alternate exit and simultaneously find Dan. There's no sign of Marcus at the door and no familiar face to be seen anywhere. All throughout the long, narrow room are sweaty bodies yelling and whooping so loudly my ears are ringing and the heavy scents of alcohol and sweat permeating the air. The guard's assignment was apparently only limited to keeping me alive, meaning he shoved me off roughly as soon as Chris left claiming I'm not here to babysit you. Go find your friend and try not to die in the next one hundred and eighty minutes. If you get hurt just try to keep the blood in, as unfortunately I don't have to bother with that.

It feels wrong, seeing the half open double doors so tantalizingly there across the room. If not for a single guard and Dan and I being separated we could be out just like that- the route to the front door mapped out uselessly in my mind, so tortuously clear it's mocking me. Escape hangs in front of me like a bone, daring me to reach. I'm unarmed and in a drunken state forced upon me, the purpose I now realize being to keep me unsteady and compliant until they can do as they please. How clever they are, the creators of this apocalypse. Manipulation and incapacitation seems a specialty of their kind.

The ominous words ring in my mind as my isolation stretches from a few minutes to several, each one feeling agonizingly long even though we're running out of time.

we need him as well. It's  the only way for the confederation to get the subject to do exactly what we want.

They need us both because they want to use me as a weapon against Dan. My stomach turns at the very thought.

I imagine extreme pain, of threats to do things that he can't be certain are true or not. I imagine them coercing, hurting, manipulating Dan, trying to force things out of him that he doesn't know and holding us in front of each other uselessly until he himself is broken. My throat constricts at the awful images and fresh panic washes through me as I try to block out the horrible thoughts and fears, terrified of what these people want to do to the boy I love. And to me, would they kill me? As terrified as I am of the thought, I'm far more afraid to leave him alone in this world.

I remember talking to Marzia back on the hill, discussing death as nothing more than a concept. She'd told me she was afraid to die, I'd told her I wasn't. It was as if back then I'd never really considered how very real it is, how none of us are or ever were safe from it. Now I'm possibly being faced with it, and it's not only me, but also Dan.

I push my sleeve against my mouth and it comes away slightly bloody, the wound from biting my cheek still stinging. My lungs feel devoid of air as I try to discern the tall form and sweep of brown hair. If nothing else, I have to get to him.

"Now what would a handsome boy like you be doing out here all alone?" a sickly sweet voice exclaims suddenly.

I jump, looking up and seeing a girl around my age wandering over, blond hair disheveled and makeup- yes makeup, smudged slightly on her face as she balances a drink glass in her hand. Her eyes are heavily lidded and her hips sway purposefully as if she wants to advertise her curves, her gaze trained on me as she comes over.

Right away I'm uncomfortable. I try to think of a response to the obviously flirtatious come on, knowing she's got to be drunk. Drunk and straight.

"I'm just waiting for a friend." I say, smiling politely while keeping an eye on the crowd. I'm hoping that if I'm boring enough she'll just go away, and I can focus on finding my friend.

She taps a finger against her glass, raising an interested eyebrow. "Are you now."

"I uh..." I hesitate, confused. "yes?"

She has the sharpest cheekbones I've ever seen in my life, like something out of a movie where the actresses look carved out of stone. And yet she doesn't strike me as beautiful. Her eyes betray her interest and she steps in far too close for someone encountering a stranger, making me think of a predatorial animal circling its prey, subdued yet dangerous. She leans against the wall with one arm and rests the other on her hip, eyeing me up and down.

"You know," she tells me, "the crowd's a bit thick around here. Over by the drinks table is much quieter, if you'd like to get away from the group. Would you like to join me?"

No, I wouldn't is what my mind is saying. I start to make excuses but then she grips my arm, and I realize I never really had a choice.

"I don't think I recognize you, honey." She tells me as she maneuvers expertly through the outer edge of the crowd, a drink poised in one hand and my arm in the other. I trip reluctantly along after her, still glancing around and frustratingly see only strange faces, while she goes on to say "You're so tall, and I'm gonna be honest, that black hair with those eyes is to die for."

I cringe all at once upon confirming she's definitely flirting with me. Sure, she's likely as punch-drunk as everyone else here but there's something about the low, sensual voice she's using and the unprecedented physical contact, paired with the fact that I'm terrified and very gay, causing me to shrug away from her touch.

It's when I take the careful step back that I realize there's a gun tucked into her pocket, three guesses as to what she uses it for when she doesn't get her way. I can tell by the way she's speaking to and handling me that she's used to being obeyed.

I wonder what her role in the confederation is.

"You must be new." She states, more of a question than a proclamation.

"I- yes. I am." I lie.

She sweeps forward, extending a finger to run over my collarbone which is barely peeking out from below my jumper. I look at her with wide eyes, trying convey just how uncomfortable this makes me.

"Well..." I squeak hesitantly. Her breath breeze over my neck, but she looks up when I speak to her. "-Thank you, but I don't want my friend to worry about me."

"Oh, I don't mind looking after strays." She coos. "If you're lost I'd be more than happy to take care of you. He won't worry."

Her touching me makes my skin crawl and I try to imagine Dan being intimidating, what he would say if he could see me right now.

"He probably wouldn't like you getting this close." I blurt.

"Oh?"

This only causes her to step nearly right against me, making me realize that she could hardly care less what someone else thinks about her actions. All she cares about is this vulnerable boy she's found alone, and I gulp as she gives me a sultry look, observing my upper body.

Suddenly, Dan emerges from the crowd. He pushes through people barring the way with his eyes full of purpose, and I feel a weight vanish all at once and my heart begin racing, his eyes widening as he confirms it's me he's looking at, taking the last few strides at a run.

"Dan." I sigh in relief. The girl backs up as he stops right next to me, glancing at her sideways before moving to my side, eyes alert and mouth opening to say something. The main thing is that he doesn't look hurt. If anything he's been treated better, though he still looks incredibly stressed.

We don't say anything, just stand together as if proving the other is there.

He sees my expression and grips both my elbows in his hands, checking me up and down for injuries and then lifting a hand to tilt my head for the same reason. My breath is slightly nervous and unsteady but I sink into the semi-embrace, taking hold of his wrist as he traces a hand over a bruise on my cheek.

His touch lingers for longer than necessary though, and I realize it's more for reassurance. The overwhelming relief I feel at seeing him okay is too much in that moment and despite our situation I find myself reaching for him, fear winning out.

I stumble forward and wrap my arms around him, somewhat clumsily because I'm terrified and uncoordinated from the drink. He hugs me back without a trace of tension from earlier, holding me tighter if anything. I hadn't realized just how much our separation truly terrified me until this moment, my chest aching physically with the reassurance of his presence. It almost makes me forget we have an audience, at least until she makes herself known.

"Honey?" The girl asks quietly, but she sounds pissed off. "Who's that? I thought I had you all to myself."

Dan seems to realize she's there for me and looks at her confusedly, quickly deducing that she's dangerous. The girl raises her eyebrows, coolly observing him right back.

His expression shifts suddenly into something serious, a strange confidence taking over his features as he turns to look back at her.

His thumb and forefinger settle against my cheek, his other arm nudging me in the back. Subtly urging me to step closer to him.

"Care to ask who you are?" He inquires, forcing her to address him directly. I watch her eyes narrow, focused on our point of contact.

"I don't think I've seen you around." She says coldly. "I take it you're the friend, then."

"I haven't seen you either." He answers, his voice careful as if he's trying not to say the wrong thing.

She ignores him, looking back at me. "Now let's get back to-"

"Is she bothering you?" Dan asks me, sounding firm and intimidating even though through the drunken blur I can see how uncertain he is. It doesn't matter, there's no way for her to know that.

I can feel her eyes on us and can tell she's not backing down any. A memory floats up of him telling me he'd been a theatre kid in his childhood, a strange thought to have at this time, but it explains how well he's reacting without too much insight into what's going on. I try to go along with whatever he's doing.

"Slightly." I mutter, somewhat of an understatement, looking purposefully in her direction. She seems to be pretending that Dan doesn't exist, moving over with eyes on me.

He gives me an intent look and then looks to her, glaring at her sidling up to get closer to me. I want to tell him to be careful, that she has a gun, but I don't know how when she's so near.

"Well." His fingers run along my back and pull me in unexpectedly so that we're flush together, chest-to-chest. He lowers his head and nudges me again so I follow suit, leaning into him and trying not to betray how my heart is racing. He responds by cupping my cheek, turning my face so it's him I'm looking at, not her.

Then his head drops and his nose brushes my skin, and suddenly I feel his his lips brush over my neck.

I shiver, caught completely off guard. He rests his one hand at the base of my jaw and wraps the other arm around me, I feel his warm breath ghosting over my neck, purposefully intimate to send her an explicit message. He looks her right in the eye as he completes the motion.

The girl widens her eyes at this action that's so deliberately not platonic, immediately taking a few steps back as my heart rams against my chest.

"I certainly hope not." He murmurs challengingly, keeping his head near my ear and speaking into the skin at my jawline.

The girl frowns, looking equal parts horrified and annoyed.

"Oh." she murmurs, ruby-red lips forming into a pout. "You two are... together?"

I gape at Dan, pathetically frozen because this is one thing that my mind seems too dumb to dare pursuing.

He's acting. My mind realizes dumbly, but my thoughts are jumbling beyond that thought. His quick thinking is probably the only thing that will ever get her to back off her uncomfortable pursuit, but still my heart is pounding.

I can't pretend this, not even to save my life, and I'm about two seconds away from blowing our cover with my expression. I'm under too much pressure and I can't think of what to do. I've never done well under pressure.

I swallow as I register the feeling of our chests pressed together, at how calm and natural he's making us look. Luckily, Dan is still thinking rapidly enough for the both of us. He doesn't even hesitate, putting an arm around my waist possessively.

The other hand he places on my chest, staring over at her as a shudder runs down my spine. His warm hand splays reassuringly, trying to calm my terrified heartbeat.

"Does that bother you?" He asks her, his voice low and challenging. His head lowers once again and I feel his lips brushing over the edge of my cheekbone, not kissing me but making a statement all the same.

She shakes her head quickly, lifting the glass to her lips and drinking down a sizeable amount. Her mouth opens and closes as if she's not sure what to say, struggling to come back from Dan's display.

"Not exactly." She replies, unceremoniously wiping her mouth. "But I like him. He's cute. Maybe you'd let me steal him just for a dance?" Her fingers stretch out to caress my chin.

I feel a jolt of fear at being separated from him, shaking my head quickly. Dan doesn't miss the motion, squeezing my side reassuringly and shooting me a look.

"Not happening." He insists, trying to lead me away but she yanks him back by the shirt.

She switches tactics, looking at me with wide doe eyes, her smudged lipstick giving her a lopsided appearance. "Don't you wanna dance with me, honey?" She croons, as if she has any sort of overpowering guilt factor. Just by the tones and implications of her voice, I can tell she wants to do a lot more than just dance.

I swallow. "N-no."

Dan steps in front of me. Unlike mine, his voice doesn't waver at all.

"No." he says firmly. "He doesn't."

Her seductive nature drops at once.

"What's wrong baby boy?" She hisses, staring daggers at him. "Surely you can share your boyfriend with a pretty girl. I just want him for a little bit, and I promise I'll take good care of him."

Dan shudders, disgusted. "He does not want you. I don't want you dancing with him, touching him, anything. You can leave, actually. Thank you."

"Well then you better dance with him. If he really is your boyfriend." She threatens. "We don't let people relax at this party."

"Yeah." Dan spits, and I'm alarmed at how pissed off he sounds. "He's mine. I'll do that. Come on, Phil."

She steps in our way.

"Here. you're dancing here, for me." She clarifies. "Unless you'd rather fight me for him? Fighting is always fun."

Dan freezes, his hand on my chest faltering.

"No, I'd rather not fight." He replies drily. "But we're not your entertainment. We're going to head off now, keep your hands to yourself."

She makes a sound akin to a growling, stamping her foot like a toddler who didn't get what they wanted. She shoots out an arm and her fist tightens around the shirt fabric at his neck and tears it slightly, determined to keep him in place.

"I've already found you and I make the rules." She tells him. "I'm a Confederation elite member and I always get my way. I don't like it when people don't do things at a party, and it's pretty obvious you're not one of us."

So that's why she's all high and mighty. She's not only confederation but higher ranking, her appearance disguising the fact that she's exceptionally dangerous.

"Don't expect us to be impressed by your title." Dan spits back. "We have no respect for the Confederation."

"Ooh, wrong choice of words, honey." She sighs. "Wrong words and the wrong place for them."

She takes a sip of her drink and then reaches past Dan to flick a stray strand of my hair, I jolt back and swear I feel Dan's whole body tense.

"If you want to stay in one piece then you should probably do what I want, sweetheart." She retorts. "See the drinks on the table over there?"

She reaches into her pocket and slips out her gun, gesturing to the cups on the table, lined up amongst others that people have been taking from all night.

Ah. I knew she'd probably be using it eventually.

"Drink." She spits, "and then dance floor. I'll be watching."

Her arm pulls back and she fires a shot into the floorboards right by my foot, blasting a hole through it with a deafening bang. I lurch back and none of the partygoers even react to it, they just dance on as if this occurrence is perfectly ordinary.

But it sends a clear message. We do what she says to entertain her, or we die.

"That's your warning." She threatens. "I expect to see you trying. Otherwise your cute boyfriend is mine."

Dan tenses at my side, several solutions likely running through his mind at the same time. I'm coming up with plenty of my own but I can't really see any way out of this if we can't avoid her, which he seems to realize as well.

"Let's just move." He whispers in my ear. "Once we're far enough away she won't be able to aim at us anyway."

He grabs my hand and directs it to his own waist, sending a clear message that we have to keep it up, this act we've gotten ourselves into.

"Nice to meet you." He replies insincerely. "We're off to dance."

I move limply like a rag doll, holding on with increased nerves and slowly letting us lead each other into the thick of the crowd. We manage a few clumsy steps effortlessly, both of us evidently drunk but not severely. But then the girl steps in our way again, barring us from the crowd that had previously been terrifying but is now our escape.

"Oh no." She scolds irritably. "You're not going anywhere til you drink some of the punch. Otherwise it'll be too easy."

Dan's composure wavers and he looks at me desperately, trying to see a way around her. His eyes seem to ask exactly what I'm wondering.

What does she mean, too easy?

"We don't want any." I stutter, nearly coughing at the alcohol scent on my own breath.

She lifts the gun again, red lips pouting and a finger tracing my chin. "I won't ask twice, cutie." She whispers in my ear, making me shudder in repulsion. "Do it..." the weapon clicks and she drives the point into the side of Dan's head, making me panic noticeably, "...or he dies."

For a moment we're all still, the girl's face brimming with psychotic amusement and Dan's face full of actual terror. I consider knocking the gun out of her hands and fighting her, trying to calculate if I can close the distance in time before her finger manages to pull the trigger. She seems to sense this, threateningly pushing the weapon in harder. It seems we have no other option.

"Fine!" I spit angrily, and the moment the word leaves my lips she lets go, pushing him away and towards the table. I move to stand next to him but she blocks me, gripping him by the elbow and pointing the gun at his back.

"No, honey. I'd like you to take your drinks separately, that way I can watch you do it without the other one running off." She giggles. "They're right there on the table. Don't worry kids, the stuff they gave you before you came in here was much worse. This stuff is just punch."

Somehow I don't believe her. My throat constricts at her motive, using Dan against me like this. It reminds me of what Chris said earlier, and suddenly I'm unable to breathe all over again.

I take the last few steps up to the table and pick up one of the red cups hesitantly, seeing Dan do the same before raising the cup to my lips. I stop and she points her gun at him, inclining me to do want she says. So I drink it. I brace myself for another burning taste, but all that registers is a sickly artificial fruity flavour. It stings a little and I see bubbles that might indicate sparkling water, which is something I've always hated. I still feel slightly unsteady from the drinks I've already had, and the girl lets go as Dan and I go to drink again.

As soon as I take a second sip, however, the room begins to spin.

Immediately I panic. I grip the table to keep from falling, stumbling across the dirty floor as the shouts and whoops of the other bodies around me continue wildly. The confederation people are dancing and partying as carefree and drunkenly as university students but worse, sweaty bodies writhing and grinding occasionally like they've lost all inhibitions. My shaky conscience wonders how these people could possibly be scientists. The my vision darkens, my eyes squeezing shut painfully as I struggle to intake breath.

What was in that drink?

"Phil!" I hear Dan cry. For a moment I can't see him. The room is exploding with color, painfully bright and then fading to mute. Even as they return to normal I begin to feel strange and loopy, so when I finally can focus on him, I'm so afraid of losing it completely. Our hands shoot out at the same time and I take his, clutching onto his shoulder with my other hand as we hang off of each other for balance.

"There's something-" he chokes, his face white, "-something in the drinks."

The girl smirks at our incapacitated figures.

"It wouldn't be a fun party if someone didn't spike the punch." She tells us with a wicked grin. Then, she shoves us onto the pseudo dance floor. "Now dance. It doesn't have to be romantic."

I'm trembling in panic as we trip into the crowd, his fingers digging into my skin painfully. Standing up has become a difficult task, we can barely keep upright let alone dance. I doubt she even really wants us to be dancing, she just takes amusement out of seeing us suffer. His body seems to be handling the drug- for I'm certain that we have definitely been drugged in some way, I can see others around us with similar symptoms- far worse than mine is, I can see his face creasing as he struggles to see straight.

The colours in the room intensify again, becoming far too bright. I can see the pinkness of Dan's lips and the red-purple of the blood on the edge of my hand, can feel his heart racing and the heat of others reeling in every direction. Now that the girl is gone Dan lets the act drop and I can see the moment his face falters, meeting my eyes and leaning his head against me.

"I'm scared." He whispers suddenly, a sentence and voice so out of place on Dan that I feel the fear too.

Everybody around us is moving. I've always been a clumsy person anyway but with my senses so altered like this I'm literally swaying and people keep reeling around; we're pushed and bumped around roughly by partygoers who we know now are definitely confederation members, the dimness of the room casting a sorting of anonymity on everyone.

"Look f-for... an escape." I stammer, swivelling my head even as a sharp pain throbs behind my eyes, taking in every scrap of surface in the room as if my gaze hasn't torn it apart already.

We step in and out and at times sidestep to get back to the outer wall where it's emptier, almost like we are actually dancing with our arms over each other's shoulders trying not to fall down. I wonder vaguely if the girl thinks she's getting what she wants.

As soon as we break out of the crowd my head begins to spin and Dan grows heavy against my side. At first I think it's just my lost sense of coordination that makes me feel like I'm tilting, then I realize he's actually falling down.

I crease my brow and try to guide him over to the wall, needing something to support myself with as well.

"I can't-" he gasps, making me panic as I lean against the wall, keeping him upright. "-I need to...to sit down."

He slumps down before I can protest and groans, sweat beading on his forehead as he takes pained, slow breaths. I fall to my knees and touch a hand to his face, terrified of how ill he looks.

"Dan." I gasp desperately, lightly tapping against his cheek as his eyelids flutter. "Dan breathe. Please keep your eyes open."

His eyes scrunch shut and he parts his mouth in discomfort, shaking slightly as the colours continue to shift from bright to mute around me. I wonder if his vision is doing this too.

"Look at me." I plead, holding my hand there until he seems to register the touch, blinking and looking up at once, focusing on me determinedly. He bites his lip and grips the hand tightly, his palms cool to the touch and trembling beyond his sensory control.

"Phil." He blurts, blinking harder and staring at me determinedly, as if struggling to focus on something. "We can't be here. The confederation wants to take us to Broxbourne at the end of the night. They'll take you away- take us apart. We have to get out of this room. I can't let them take y-you f-from..." he trails off, pressing a hand to his head. "Fuck."

"They won't take us." I tell him, speaking as much to myself as I am to him. "We haven't lived this long for nothing."

"Right." He agrees. "I just need to sit for a minute."

I pull him close to me and push his hair off his face, rubbing slow, uncoordinated motions across his back as he struggles to clear his head. The party goes on all around us, a sick feeling churns in my stomach and a clock on the wall reads 4 a.m., the world feeling so compressed and devoid of anything right now. I feel like an illusion, drifting in a sea of constant motion while stuck stationary. My mind is made of fear and pain right now, Dan is sick and afraid, so we hold on, the only thing to ground each other.

Minutes tick by and I feel his shaking stop, see him raise his gaze to me with hazy eyes. His face is bruised and his lips are cracked, his hair hangs in his eyes and he's white as a sheet. But he looks at me and I look back, the brown eyes promising to get us through this, anchoring me steadily with the fiery determination that no amount of alcohol can drown out. He lets his hand rest on my wrist, squeezing gently.

Assurance. We stay that way for a long while, unsure of how much time has passed.

"That's so boring." A voice complains suddenly in front of us, making us both jump and jerk away from our sitting positions. Dread settles in the pit of my stomach when I realize it's the girl, and this time she's not alone.

A man is with her- Rigor, the guard from earlier. She whispers something in his ear and he smirks, stepping forward and yanking Dan out of my grasp.

"Get off!" He screams, trying to fight with uncooperative limbs as Rigor restrains him, eyes widening as the girl sweeps forward.

"I told you I expected you to do something." She reminds me. "Not wander off and escape. Rigor says you're confederation property, and that means you're mine, honey."

She closes in and pushes me up against the wall and I see Dan's eyes widen as she sweeps in, her hands trailing down my shirt as I try to squirm away.

"Your boyfriend is nowhere near what I can be." She croons, her lips inches from my skin and her chest pressed too close. "Just take a break from him, for me. I can make you feel really good."

The rough stone digs into my back. I grip her wrist even as she tries to force her hand forward.

"No. I-I-"

Her mouth ghosts over my ear. "What's wrong?" She pouts, eyes flaring suddenly with anger. My chest feels tight and my mind races, desperately needing to think of something to talk myself out of this but unable to when her hands begin to explore my body, every touch burning.

"You can't. I'm gay." I whisper, the first time I've ever said it aloud in the worst possible position. It should have been Dan I told first, or at least Cat or my family, not some intoxicated girl in a bunker whose intentions are sharply clear. I can't do much more than that, my lungs feel devoid of air.

Just her touching me feels wrong. She's a stranger, I don't know her, don't love her. I don't want her hands on my body, her lips anywhere near my mouth. There's only one person in the world that I want near me. It's not her.

She smirks. "Like hell you are. He's not your boyfriend at all, is he?"

My throat goes dry. I feel like she's reading my expression.

"Phil!" Dan shouts, but I can't see him. I can hear him struggling and I try to push away but I don't have any balance- the drink is doing its work.

"He..."

"You two thought I was that stupid?" She snaps, grinning over at Dan with her fingers digging into my cheek. "You wouldn't even kiss him, the most I saw you do was catch him when he fell."

My heart sinks as Dan's expression falls, a strange pain raking over me as I realize it's that obvious. People thought he loved me and now they know the truth, this is how it really is and it can't save us now when we don't have a hope of getting out of here without that guise.

She slams my shoulders against the concrete, making me gasp in pain as she grips my sweater and leans in close, and then without warning her body is pressed flush to me.

"I don't like it when you lie to me." She spits, glaring passionately and raising blazing eyes to my face. The she surges forward and suddenly- she's kissing me.

It's not gentle and she's wicked in the way she does it, pushing against me as if she's doing it all for herself as terror spikes through me like a knife blade. I sputter immediately and try to break away but she has me held fast, Rigor standing behind her holding Dan tightly so that he has to see the spectacle. Her lips are uncomfortably warm and her breath tastes like the vodka mixed with the punch and my terrified eyes go to him as it happens, trying to pull away as our gazes lock. He looks sick, horrified.

My eyes close for a moment as I flinch and then push at her chest. For a moment she's separated from me and I gasp, eyes going back to him. He shoots me a desperate look, trying to make it less awful and then her hands are back on me and she's running them down my hips, working her lips against mine and I can't do more than turn my head away.

"Phil!"

Her nails dig into my skin and she begins to kiss around the edge of my neck, feeling up my sides. I grit my teeth as my body freezes in fear, gasping for air. My chest feels constricted and I can hear Dan shouting something.

My mind isn't working- all I can do is endure. Whenever they describe these scenarios people who've never experienced it say you should fight back or talk back or something but what they don't realize is that you can't. You're pinned down, you're terrified, you just can't do anything because it doesn't cross your mind in the moment. I'm just wanting it to end. My limbs aren't responding, it all feels surreal.

Her teeth suddenly nip at the sensitive skin of my neck, making me cry out. It's wrong. It feels wrong. I'm terrified, my heart pounding against my ribs as my knees uncooperatively go weak. As her hands works towards the waistband of my jeans I try once more to shove her off, and then I hear the scuff of shoes on the floor.

"S-stop." I gasp, not caring how weak I sound. I stop her hand as she tries to work her way lower, and she glares at me with genuine rage. She grips my hair.

Slam.

She slams my head against the wall, causing hot pain to crack across the back of my head all at once. Immediately I moan in pain, and she bears down, my wavering vision full of stars.

"Just relax honey." She whispers, sliding her hands down my stomach and trying to move mine away. She laughs darkly. "It'll feel good, I promise. Just stay still and don't fight back."

No.

I open my mouth to scream and she grips my thigh.

Then without warning Dan breaks away, reeling around with eyes flaring in anger and punching the guy holding him straight in the face.

Dan's fist is small compared to the Rigor's face, but there's no small sound when it hits, a sickening crack that sounds about as painful as it looks.

The reaction is immediate. Rigor screams and drops Dan, stumbling back with a hand pressed to his nose. He recovers, pulling out his gun and then lunging for him, grabbing at Dan's wrist as he kicks him away.

A punch catches Dan on the edge of his face but he ignores it, jerking back and throwing himself forward at Rigor with pummelling fists until his attacker stumbles.

The girl drops her hands in surprise and makes the mistake of turning around to see what's happening. I don't even think- I push her with wobbly arms, knocking her to the ground with a shriek and then darting around her to kick Rigor who's still advancing on Dan.

Her gun falls out of her hand and skids across the ground. Dan picks it up but doesn't stop to use it.

"Run!" Dan shouts at me, grabbing at my wrist and yanking me as I stumble, and then we disappear into the crowd of dancers, pushing through couples unceremoniously and breaking apart several groups, inciting a lot of angered shouts.

My chest heaves and I nearly topple straight to the floor, my knees uncooperative and wobbly. Dan stops to hoist my arm over his shoulder and then we're running- or limping to describe it in a more accurate term, it feels like there's not enough air in the room and my heart is pounding in my chest, anxiety bubbling through me in equal bouts with panic.

"Phil." He gasps, my hand nearly dislodged from his shoulder because of how horribly I'm shaking. "Come on, let's get out of here. I won't let her touch you, I swear."

I hazard a glance behind me and see our three pursuers standing up, the one guy bleeding profusely from his nose thanks to Dan. Their eyes rake over the crowd and the girl catches my eye, smiling viciously at me and raising her eyebrows when we make contact. A bolt of fear strikes me and I feel adrenaline coursing through my veins, snapping around and stumbling faster as my voice stammers out between sharp breaths.

"Dan- they see us-"

He curses, veering sideways and knocking a man nearly to the floor, yanking me towards the door that's now unoccupied without Rigor on watch. The girl and the two men have begun yelling after us, drawing the attention of even some of the more clueless people.

It turns into a game of cat and mouse. The exit is clear in sight but there's a crowd of confederation people to get through and our two pursuers behind us. They haven't had time to call for backup seeing how quickly we've broken away but they're catching up and we're weak. I run with everything I have, focusing so hard on the task as if our lives depends on it- and they do.

Still, we almost make it. A table pushed against the wall right by the doorway gives me something to steady myself with as I lean on it, supporting Dan with the other arm as he breathes heavily, clutching the girl's gun in his hand.

Then he collapses, his legs giving in beneath his against his will. He grabs at my hands frantically, trying to use the combined help of the furniture and my arm to get up again while I tug him up, my eyes on the door, laying propped open to the dark hallway like an invitation.

We have to get out. I think desperately. We're so close.

I pull Dan to his feet and start to limp along, when the sounds of running feet thunder behind us, making my heart jolt in fear. Then the girl appears with Rigor, his knife raised as they bear down.

Rigor tackles Dan from behind and yanks him up with an arm against his throat, pressing into his windpipe. I lurch to push him away but the girl grabs my wrist, bringing our faces close together and making me dizzy with fear as the memory of her previous touch assaults me.

"You can't escape now." She hisses. "I know your names and your faces now, Phil. Nowhere you go will be safe, I'll tell everybody. All the confederation will know who you are."

Dan chokes weakly and the gun falls from his loose fingers. The girl lunges for it and I react without thinking, kicking her in the side and falling to the ground, picking it up and whipping it to face her, pointing it at Rigor when he steps in to back her up.

My hands react before my mind does. I press my finger against the trigger, moving to to where she's lying vulnerable on the ground and aiming at her face.

"Do it." The girl hisses, smirking up at the barrel of my gun with an insane kind of excitement. "Shoot me. Give the confeds another reason to want you." She glances over at Dan, a malicious grin lighting her face. "You better get on it if you want your boyfriend alive." she adds.

Rigor raises his knife to point at Dan's throat, threatening his death if I kill her.

My hand jerks, trembling so hard at the way she's taunting me. It occurs to me that though a lot has happened in this near year and a half, though I've killed hundreds of zombies and animals and even that half-light leader, I've never actually killed a living, breathing, human person before, not ever. The power rests in one sleight of my hand right now, I could just kill this girl who's had a life and a history and no doubt some kind of family. I could make her heart stop forever, fire a clean crevice straight into her skin and cease her taunting all at once. But I only have a limited time to do it.

Dan gasps and I start, turning my head. I panic  as I see his face turning purple, Rigor's arm pushed tight against his throat and the knife poised to strike should I disobey their actions. He'll die if I don't do something, but then if I kill her he might just do the same to Dan anyway, I won't be able to reach him fast enough.

My heart is pounding. I flit my eyes from the girl's inappropriately sadistic grin to Dan, his lips turning blue and his eyes rolling back. I squeeze my thumb into the trigger, torn between my own moral rights and literal life and death.

The girl locks eyes with me. She shimmies closer, pressing her forehead against the gun and caressing my wrist with long-nailed fingers.

"You're so cute." She breathes. She throws back her head and laughs suddenly, making something inside me snap.

My chest tightens and then suddenly I'm screaming, snapping up my hand and firing straight into the confederation man's arm.

The girl's eyes widen and Rigor drops his hold, howling suddenly in pain. I see Dan crumple, collapsing to the floor and gasping in several breaths all at once, only fixed on him for a moment before I turn around and slam the butt of the weapon into the girl's forehead right as she lunges for my throat. She makes a strange sound almost like a squeak, her heavy lids fluttering and her nails raking my cheek before she sways and falls heavily to the floor, her head striking the solid surface.

My heart is in my throat as I surge forward, kicking Rigor with unbalanced feet as he grips the bleeding bullet hole in his arm. I feel lightheaded, turning and reaching out to grip Dan's forearm, feeling his fingers dig into my own arm while he gets shakily to his feet, heavily breathing while collapsed against my chest.

We move past Rigor, pushing through the double door and emerging in the hallway, cool, fresh air washing over us at once as my heart rams against my chest. Instead of turning round Dan motions weakly and we move right instead, sprinting down an unfamiliar corridor, not willing to risk going back to our room where they could find us.

The hallway is void of people. There are almost no doors and I realize we're heading towards the old factory.

I see a blocked-off opening and push past the wooden barrier, tugging Dan through and taking us into yet another hallway. The walls are open to the air and I can see bits of sky and city peeking in through the gaps. A blast of wind sweeps over us both, nearly tipping us over in our wrecked states but we press on, running mindlessly until suddenly the hallway ends and we're standing in a clearing, closed in on three sides by concrete but nonetheless open to the air.

My hands are shaking. I gesture with my last bit of strength and Dan replies with a weak sound of agreement, lurching into the far corner. Our feet find a soft mound of dirt, which catches us as my vision finally wavers too strongly to see through.

We collapse against the wall in a heap, Dan with his head tipped back and his breath coming out deep and slow. We sit there with stunned faces, leaning heavily against each other's shoulders and sweat beading on our foreheads. I'm not entirely sure what part of the facility we've found, but it's so dusty and neglected that I doubt anyone goes back here. I look at him and he looks at me, his terrified expression a mirror of mine.

Then suddenly- we're laughing. We laugh and laugh and keep laughing as we just stare at each other in disbelief. Mouths open in shock.

We're still under the influence of two different evils, some kind of alcohol and maybe even a drug, my sight is still wavering and if I tried to stand right now I'd probably collapse. But we're okay. We escaped somehow.

"How the hell," he asks roughly, staring at me with wide eyes, "did we manage to get out of that?"

I take a deep breath, just shaking my head.

I don't know. I gasp in my mind. I really don't know.

He stares at me for a second longer before breathing out a shaky laugh, and then at the same time we're both moving forward, closing the distance though we weren't that far apart to begin with.

I feel his forehead come to rest against mine in a way that makes my heart flutter the way that Confederation girl's kiss would never have been able to. One of his hands settles against the side of my face for a second as he smiles at me, looking right into my eyes, and then he draws it away and wraps both arms around my neck. I feel sick and dizzy and I can't quite think clearly but I'm here nonetheless, and of that much I am aware.

I pull him in by his small shoulders, pressing him to my chest, and he squeezes me back in a tight hug. My hand comes up to hold the back of his head as physical evidence that I cannot possibly bring him any closer, the prospect of losing him still fresh in my mind as he rests his hands on my back, fingers curling against my jumper. We stay like that for a long time, still laughing a little, half-drunk and grateful.

"That was one of the scariest fucking things I've ever done." He breathes into my shoulder, shaking his head. He tips off-balance, falling forward a bit as he loses his gaining, and I steady my hold so that he can lie against me rather than tumbling to the floor.

"I know." My chest flutters with butterflies when I feel him close like this.

He shifts so that he's sitting next to me on the floor, his body turned inward and curled into my hold. He settles his head on my shoulder, flinching as he puts pressure on a bruise somewhere.

"Are you okay Phil?" He asks quietly, and my mind goes back to the girl's hands on my body, her mocking our fake relationship for the sake of getting out alive. Her lips hot and insistent and tasting of alcohol, her fingers trying hard to work their way down. Just don't fight back, honey. she'd crooned with that hungry face. I can make you feel really good.

I shudder and squeeze my eyes shut at the memory, holding more tightly to Dan's shoulders and relaxing at how warm and safe he feels. The fear slowly drains away the longer I do this, the feeling reminding me that I'll be all right now, that somehow I escaped, and with what matters most. So I'm all right, really.

"Yes." I answer honestly. And I know right as I say it that it's true.

"I'll fucking kill her." He blurts angrily, tightening his hold on my back as determination enters his voice.

I sigh and shake my head at him, laughing lightly and hugging him close. My heart is beating quickly for another reason now, and I just don't have it in me to filter my thoughts.

"It's okay, Dan." I tell him softly, shifting my shoulder so that it's supported by whatever's behind me. "I'm all right now that we're out of there. It doesn't matter what happened, I'm okay. I have you."

He looks at me sideways for a moment, his eyes tired and out of focus as I hold him against my chest. Even half-drugged he looks beautiful, overwhelmingly so. In this moment I'm simply relieved we're okay together, and I think back to when we'd just been walking down the corridor, and how lovely he looks under the moon.

"We're embarrassingly bad actors, aren't we?" He asks quietly. "That girl saw right through those lies."

He frowns, then laughs drily.

I think back to her very blatant anger when she discovered I was lying, consider how she demanded I explain myself. It makes me pretty sure his worry isn't actually true.

"I think she's believed us at first, actually." I tell him. "We just made the mistake of... dropping the act."

"Who's that affectionate at a sketchy party?" He asks irritably, his heartbeat thrumming sleepily to reflect his expression. "She must see a lot if that didn't convince her."

"I don't know how you thought of that on the spot." I admit honestly, shyly trying to acknowledge what he did. "I was frozen in fear and you just came right over like an established... friend and uh...yeah." I can't even talk about him and the word boyfriend in the same sentence. I also can't think properly, I feel like I've been clubbed over the head.

"God." He spits, and I see his fists clenching, nails making crescent moons on his pale skin which makes me realize he's not even listening. "She was right up against you. She was touching you. It was like my fucking nightmare but worse because it was real and I couldn't stop you from suffering."

"But you did." I remind him, sad because he's blaming himself. I hold onto him more tightly, trying to relax him back to his relieved laughing state he'd been just moments before. "You took that guy right out. You got us out of there."

"I should have tried harder." He says, ignoring me.

"You did all you could!"

"You wouldn't have gone through any of that if I'd been able to get her to believe me!" He argues, the alcohol making him strongly passionate about things beyond his control.

"Dan, stop." I protest. I look purposefully down on him even though it's makes my head hurt, putting a hand on his arm and breaking him out of his thoughts.

"She didn't believe me." he mumbles.

He tilts his head up ever so slightly to meet my gaze, a thought seeming to occur to him as the night slowly grows less dark. I realize dawn is coming. He looks forward carefully, placing a hand on the base of my jaw so he's not off balance as I wonder vaguely in my mind what on earth we're going to do now that we know the confederation is here, and also what move to make now that I'm in danger of losing the one person who truly matters most to me.

"She didn't have to." I say distractedly, hoping that he's not seeing another wound on my face and blaming himself for it. His hair has gone skewed and even though it's shorter now thanks to me it's falling into his eyes again, framing the grimace on his half-conscious, stressed face. He ignores me, his hands shaking under the stress and his body swaying slightly, having some trouble sitting up.

"I'm not gonna to let her hurt you." He states again, biting his lip determinedly. "Phil..."

"She had two giant guys holding you." I protest. "And it's all right that she... she didn't actually end up touching me, really, she just kissed me and-"

He lifts up his other hand and touches his fingers to my neck. I'm still hugging him and my mind is filled with confusion as I meet his blank stare, wondering if he wants to say something when suddenly he blinks, and I raise my eyebrows in concern.

He creases his brow suddenly, cringing. "I don..." he mumbles his eyes scrunching shut as pain flickers over his features, "don't feel good."

"What?" I place a hand on his forehead, hastily brushing back his hair and he pulls me closer. It's cold. "Dan? What's wrong?"

" m'ere." he answers. He lifts his eyes dazedly, his expression almost angry as he holds onto my face, drawing me close to him with a suddenly pull of his hand. He hisses as another painful wave apparently shoots through him and then takes a deep breath, pushing my head against the wall gently and letting his shining eyes meet mine.

Then he closes his eyes and makes me forget everything, leaning forward and pressing his lips lightly to the corner of my mouth.

I wonder briefly if I'm dreaming. It only lasts for a moment, featherlight and gentle and so fleeting I can't even react quickly enough to register it. His lips are soft, careful, his nose brushes mine clumsily as he pulls away.

"There." He sighs half-consciously, his head sinking to rest against me limply as his voice begins to slur before I've barely even registered what's happening. "I kissed him for you, lady."

He slumps against me heavily and I realize he's passing out, the last words mumbled into my shirt as my eyes widen despite the fatigue. "Do you believe me now?"

Of all the moments in my life there has never been one where I have needed to be awake more but all at once it's like my body remembers it too was drugged, I can feel myself also slipping, I'm fighting to stay awake and I can feel my heart racing even as my words begin to jumble, my breath catching in my throat. I feel dizzy. He...he just-

"Now she'll leave you alone." He slurs.

My skin is burning where he touched me, I can feel the place like a memory as if he were almost still there. I place my fingers on the spot as my head starts swimming,
gasping once and looking at his half-open eyes.

"Dan." I mumble in a panic, and he hums out a sound in weak response. My voice comes out weakly, disbelief rushing into my chest. "wha... what was that for?"

"I dunno." He mumbles, pulling me down under his weight. He goes to do what should be a shrug, but he's too weak to do it and not even aware. "She won't hurt you again now if you tell her... that I did that... so you can tell her but don't tell me-"

His head lolls forward and I move to support him so he doesn't slip sideways and hit his head off the wall. He leans into the touch, winding his arms tightly around my waist.

I cup his cheek in my hand clumsily, my arms feeling heavy as darkness rushes in- the drug is doing its work. His eyelids flutter and then fall shut, his cheek squishes. He switches to incoherent mumbling, his body more heavily leant against me as he loses consciousness, and in the back of my mind it registers that maybe I should be worried about him, about myself perhaps. I muddle briefly with the idea we could be poisoned, but my foggy brain mostly just cares about the spot on my cheek that was nearly my lips. The place where his lips were- because this is the boy that I've loved forever, and he's so pretty.

I feel a giggle leave me. The room starts spinning weirdly.

"You're so... pretty Dan." I giggle, and he lets out a sleepy sigh.

A dreamy smile takes over my lips.

Yes, Dan is really pretty. He has nice curls and squishy cheeks. If my head wasn't so heavy I'd sit up and count his freckles, there really are a lot so I don't know where I'd start, and maybe we could give kisses, those would be really fun. Not lip ones though- just little cheeky ones, right in the corner of the mouth where dimples are. I wonder vaguely if I have a dimple. I don't remember.

I try to say something else but the drug takes over, clouds swirling into my vision as I sink to the floor, my arms wrapped around him loosely. He doesn't say another word and my thoughts go blank, eliminating the good and bad all at once.

Awake. Stay awake. A more reasonable voice shouts, but it's at the end of a long, dark tunnel. My mind goes back to Dan's dimples, ignoring the other voice that's not happy.

I can't. I can't stay awake.

So pretty.

Dan's hands tug at the fabric of my hoodie, mine drape behind his neck. I snuggle against his body, feeling his nose poking the tip of mine and his breath on my skin as my mind wanders happily.

It's like a little friendship hug, because we're the bestest of friends truly...Dan is my best...

best...

my very best...

friend.

We slump to the ground like that, dropping off instantly into sleep.

And though I'm trying to remember what I'm clinging to, trying to hold on to the feeling of warm, soft lips on my cheek I can't remember why I'm thinking of it.

My mind lets it go just as easily as the ground welcomes my body, and just like the zombies that I killed before I ever reached this bunker, like my memory of whether or not I have a dimple, like the warm air disappearing before a storm the recollection fades away- and I forget.

Oh my whatever is going on? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

how are you doing? are you enjoying this? Feed me all the feedback I'm thirsty.

jk you are never under obligations here. also that was a really weird way to ask that sorry. Lov u

~Aly🌙