smut warning
there's a // before and after so you can skip if it's not your thing stay safe ;D

also warning for how sentimental and mildly poetic it is have fun you big saps

art by sadaestheticphoto!!

~~~

Distance can't take what is hidden here safe in my chest.
Wait for the day when we finally say
"now or never."
-Sara Bareilles, Send me the Moon

Dan

It's terrifying, knowing you've found the person you want to spend the rest of your life with.

Is it dramatic to say that? Probably. It's like logicality doesn't exist in my brain at the moment, this exact thought is running through my blurry mind far too certainly. Maybe it's the wine, maybe I'm just giddy. Emotion definitely doesn't always come this easily to me, in fact some days it felt like no kind of feeling was ever possible. It was Phil that kept me afloat, as adamantly as I'd ever deny it before. I can't seem to now.

There's no one around to bother us, at least not anymore. I don't want to leave this place in the grass under the tree where time feels suspended, where my mind is free to think about Phil without someone barging in and forcing reality back into place so abruptly it can be painful. This is the first time in years that my mind has been overwhelmed not with negatives or lack of emotion, but with an abundance of adoring, wonderful feeling. The world is on pause and I won't even let Mark's slightly drunken interruption ruin this, not if I can't help it.

Phil's told me that we don't have to go back to the fire yet. We don't have to talk to Jack right away, we can leave the fire to burn in the distance a little while longer. I'm sinking into the comfort the way I would a warm bath, blocking out anything trying to disrupt this and letting myself be distracted by silky black hair and moon-touched cheekbones.

Looking at him, it's hard to imagine a time before him, or those times in the early apocalypse days where I began to shut him out. I never blocked him out completely, just held him at arm's length, but it feels so far away now. Every minute of safety we have gives me another excuse to stare at his hands or his lips, at his eyes as they observe the world around us. It's surreal when the bitter shell of a person I was feels like s stranger to me now. I'm more vulnerable than ever, but I realize I need the hurt to remind me what it means to be alive.

"And you're teasing me for staring." Phil comments suddenly, surfacing me from my thoughts with the smile in his words.

It makes me realize that yes, I've been fixed on him absently for the past five minutes, mind whirling with sappy thoughts about how wonderful he is. I wonder if the grin on his face is a reflection of that, wouldn't at all be surprised if he can read me that well by now.

"Shut up." I reply gamely, stretching my hand across the small space between us and taking his. It's oddly thrilling, seeing our fingers slot together, mine folding over his. His fingers are so delicate, slender and pale, it's a contrast to mine which look so big enclosing them. With soft grass beneath me and other people far away, we're about as isolated as we can get.

"That sounds like the Dan I know." He observes, sounding pleased about this fact. If it had come from anyone else I likely would have questioned what they meant, but there's no question with Phil and I. I know what he means when he addresses my sharp, curt ways, well aware probably that any words I say can be undone just by his damn smile alone, because seeing him happy is so impossibly wonderful to me.

"The real Dan is an asshole." I remind him. "You just had the misfortune of meeting me and being into that."

Of course I'm joking. I'm not trying to deter him or even be self-deprecating this time, it just feels nice to be able to tease Phil when the words come so easily.

He sighs, shaking his head and smiling bemusedly. I'm not expecting it when he draws me closer by our joined hands, nor when he shifts over and rests his head on my shoulder. He's warm and the weight is so impossibly comforting, a physical reminder that he's here now, the warmth evident in his very words.

"But I am, aren't I?"

I shove him. "Hey it's your own choice, mate."

"You need to stop being so damn easy to love, then." He murmurs right back, dissolving any point I could make into nothing.

In this loaded moment it hits me harder than I'd expect it to, darting my eyes from our hands to his expression instead. I want to joke in retaliation but I find that I can't, amusement replaced with a swell in my chest and a falter in my words as if there's an emotional barrier. I suddenly really don't want to go anywhere now, having half a mind to kindnap him in some weird consensual escapade so I can hear words like that again.

"And you, Philly, need to maybe shut up before I cry." I complain, lurching away from him and moving to hide my face because yeah, it's actually happening.

There's a ridiculous lump in my throat and all I want to do right now is throw my arms around him, wrap my legs around him and cling like a goddamn koala, to just tell him everything he doesn't know about himself because I have a ridiculously genuine amount of emotion arising from having our small moments snatched away. He's the best person I've ever met and I'm so ridiculously, eternally grateful that he's alive, I don't even think he realizes how much feeling there is here beyond just love for him.

As I flop into the grass I can definitely feel the buzz of the wine, cherry wine, which I didn't even think existed anymore. Tonight has been an unexpected grace period that none of us could have ever expected and I've essentially just let myself go, mostly just wanting to look at Phil and touch Phil and be with Phil in every possible way I can, meaning I'm more than a little resentful towards Jack right now for sending someone to bring us back to the fire.

It's not that the campers are bad. The fire and the celebrating is actually very freeing but the crowds feel a bit choking and I just want to be alone for once, maybe even to sneak off to our tent and get enough sleep for once. Just the idea of cuddling right now sounds so impossibly alluring, it's starting to take over my mind.

I'd give a lot to be wrapped in a blanket and Phil's arms, to shut my eyes and drift off. I try to edge out the dread in the pit of my stomach in anticipation of whatever discussion lies ahead of us, knowing that at some point, we have to go back to normal. That can wait. This is now.

I lay on my stomach and Phil slides his hand under the back of my shirt, gently scratching lazy circles over my skin in a way that's impossibly relaxing. For someone who's never been in love before he seems to know what to do and how to do it perfectly every time, my eyes falling shut in content. It's like he's pouring every ounce of feeling he can into me until he feels like the moments we have together are absolutely perfect, his fingers scritching over the exact places that feel the best.

I can't see him right now, given that my head is resting facedown on my folded arms while grass presses against my chest and tickles my bare toes, but I know he's there and that notion relaxes me more. I picture him in my mind; Phil, with his straight black fringe and his odd nose, his sharp cheekbones and pale skin. His slender fingers and multicoloured eyes. His pale pink lips.

Phil, my best friend. My boyfriend. I can't wrap my head around the concept as much as it may be our reality, not even after everything we've said and done. We've been through so much together, probably half the confederation wants us dead. It should be a given fact by now what I am to him and he is to me, but it all still feels surreal.

That, and I have absolutely no problem going back to reflect on it.

His touch is relaxing, hands drawing back and forth as they crawl over my shoulderblades. I let the night do the speaking for us, almost forgetting about the party and the campers, convincing myself they'll just forget we're there. Phil's breaths are soft and the air is oddly summery, I can feel my heart rate slowing down.

"You know we do have to go back eventually, right?" He whispers. Contrary to this he continues his circles, fingertips running over my lower back.

He's referring to the fire. I close my eyes and let him trace his fingers over my bare skin, sighing halfheartedly even though he can't see my expression.

"I know."

He's thinking for a while, just to himself in his own little world. He doesn't stop his motions and it makes me even sleepier, I imagine I can see the spirals he's tracing over my skin.

I stay silent, hoping he'll get the message and won't ever make me do this at all. I know it's not fair to pretend he can do anything about it, but I just know that the plans the resistance has are not ones that will keep him safe. I can't help but be stubborn.

"I don't want to go back either, it's okay." He assures me, speaking up a bit later. "We'll leave as soon as we can no matter what he says, the second he's done we can ditch the party completely and go sleep together in the tent."

It's like he can read my mind. I wonder if the only way to make me do things anymore after escaping the worst of things will be to bribe me with rewards like this. In any case, I feel so much better now that I know he feels the same way about this even though he genuinely enjoys other people.

"You have no idea how much I needed you to say that." I confess, mumbling into the grass. His hand stills and I feel him draw back a bit, shifting closer physically instead.

"I know how you are." He says gently, suggesting this is something to be fond of.

I lift my head, shifting my weight to my good shoulder to look at him. His expression is a silent question and I close my eyes when he extends his hand and strokes my hair, wanting to be held but also aware of where we are.

I don't know what it is about looking at him- maybe it's just the same inexplicable feeling it's always been since I fell in love with him and even before, but I suddenly can't stand the little gap between us.

"Come here please." I mumble, grabbing for him until he complies and lays down next to me, pressing our shoulders together. I revert my gaze to the tree trunk rather than looking at the flames, keeping my back to the light in rejection of it. He leans a little bit closer so that our elbows brush too, settling down in the grass.

I feel his eyes on me and don't know how to make eye contact yet, still thinking about his words only moments before. I hate the feeling of being rushed, knowing that I have only a limited amount of time here with Phil tarnishing the moment even though I shouldn't let it. When he nudges my shoulder I nudge back, but my eyes kept to my hands, an odd feeling settled in my stomach.

"Are you all right?" He asks eventually, fingers finding a dandelion in the grass and pulling it up.

I want to say yes, that I am. There's no use in worrying him or making him unhappy. That being said, I lied to him for a long time about how I felt. I can't find any use in lying to him about anything now either.

"It's just-" I falter in my words, watching the flower get twirled over in his hand. "I don't know."

His disposition changes when he realizes I'm not happy or laughing anymore, making me feel slightly guilty. It's bad enough that I haven't even given him a yes or a no. I try to articulate how I feel in a way that makes even a little more of an ounce of sense, wanting to give him something to work with.

"I guess not."

I'm glad he doesn't immediately touch me or try to soothe me in some way. To some degree I'm being a little selfish, but there's so much behind this feeling and the problem isn't just mine.

"Mark probably knows how you feel." He ventures, referring to the conversation we'd just had with him. "He was just delivering the message."

I laugh hollowly, feeling slightly bitter.

"I'm not mad at Mark." I point out. "It's more like... doesn't it seem strange that we're still subject to the will of other people still? We're sitting here procrastinating the time before someone barges in and tells us what to do."

He nods, and I realize that as usual we seem to be on the same page.

"Like what Harley said." He supplies, gesturing in her general direction.

"Yes. Like what Harley said."

It should be a sign of some kind that she's given us more help than any of the adults. I'm glad Phil gets it, because if I'd had to explain to him that the people who run this place are purposefully keeping information from us so that we will do precisely what they ask, it would be hard to know I was taking away his faith in some other person. Luckily, we don't have that issue.

I have to think about that. It was a complete fluke that we got to talk to the girl. We could have been engaged by any of these total strangers and learned a whole lot of nothing, but she's made us aware of common knowledge things that make all the difference.

"They didn't tell us how big the rebellion's actually gotten because they didn't want to make it obvious just how much they actually need us." I mutter. "You can bet the second we get over there, they're gonna have some kinda favour in mind."

Phil sits with this, fiddling with the petals and stem that he has wrapped around his finger. He looks like he's thinking about the words he wants to say before he actually says them, and when he does, his voice is full of tentative caution.

"Do you remember what we said after Cat died?"

I blink, caught by the unexpected question being voiced so gently by my best friend. Now it's his eyes that are cast elsewhere I let myself look at him, bolstered by the strength and his voice merged with genuine feeling.

My heart sinks a bit in my chest and I take a deep breath, turning my head with wide eyes to meet his and seeing his expression serious.

"Yeah?"

And I remember, I do, but the mention of Cat's name still feels weird to refer to in the past tense, the trauma only days old.

"What did we say?" He prods me, tone encouraging. It's clear he wants to take my mind off it, to focus on the message.

"Wirrow." I say quietly. I remember the darkness of that rickety house, the pouring rain and the glow of flames from a block down. I remember holding Phil with visions of our best friend dying flashing behind my eyes every time I closed them. "We're going to kill him. We said we were going to kill him."

"Exactly."

He shuts his eyes and lays his head back on my shoulder again, reaching around me with his left hand to tuck the flower behind my ear. I rest my head against his and blink until the burn in my eyes goes away, letting the knot of pain rise to my chest on an inhale. On the exhale, I let it all out.

"We made a promise that night, and we're going to go through with it." He insists. "No matter what the resistance wants us to do, or what plan they have in mind, we're going to find a way to do that."

He looks so determined, eyes shining in the weak light and lighting a fire in my chest. It's only after a few seconds that I realize how bizarre this is. Only a few months ago I wouldn't have even thought to imagine that Phil would talk like this.

"But what if they try to stop us?" I ask.

"They're supposed to be on our side." He says firmly. "No matter what they think, we don't owe them anything. It's not up to them to decide who we do and don't provide favors for."

I feel it blooming in my chest, a wave of affection for him at the statement. He sounds so determined I can't help but believe him, his words protective and holding no patience for perceived authority anymore. He's right, these people are on our side but they don't own us, there does come a time where we have to do what we believe is right.

Even still, it's a little bit jarring to hear words like that come out of Phil's mouth. He's always been the gentle compromising one, the mediator who tried to smooth things over rather than oppose. Perhaps it's maturity. I don't really know what it is.

I lay my hand over his, threading together our fingers and squeezing gently. "I don't think I'm ever going to get used to you saying something like that."

He raises his eyebrows.

"I guess you're right." He agrees. "Plans change. Circumstances change."

"And now we've both killed somebody."

He's quiet, but it somehow helps to say it out loud. It's a dark reality, but it's necessary if I want to keep him in my life. And once it's out all blunt and sharp like that, we own it. We can choose when and where it's repeated, letting go of the guilt and remembering why it happened.

One death to stop the death of millions. A decision and a sacrifice.

I feel a weight lift off my chest.

~~~

"Dan!"

I barely have time to turn my head before Jamie materializes from the crowd with a joyous smile on his face, wiggling past a person standing in the way with arms open.

We've only just returned to the campfire. With my mind so full of convoluted thoughts, a mixture of memories, reluctances, feelings, and fears, I hadn't really thought about the kid until he's charging at me out of nowhere, effectively turning almost all the heads in the circle towards us for a moment.

He's barely tall enough to reach the waists of most of the people here. While his legs look to be longer than most kids' his age he's still undeniably young, blue runners on his feet blurring as he stumbles over the grassy span of distance before I'm even able to comprehend that I've seen him.

My heart leaps in my chest and before I can think I'm lurching forward too, catching him even before he reaches me and lifting him into my arms. Phil's standing behind me and I fall back against him like an idiot with the impact but I don't even care, hugging the little boy to my chest and feeling my heart swell.

I hadn't even realized how much I'd missed him, how much he'd come to mean to me until he's suddenly here and reminding me he exists. He's giggling, arms fumbling to climb up properly as I lift him up. Suddenly coming back to the fire doesn't seem like such a dumb idea, the little boy's features backlit by the flames.

"Jamie- oh my god." I breathe, squeezing him tighter and looking down to see his face.

He looks healthy, the scrapes from escaping the attack healed and his curly brown hair swept to one side of his forehead, a new-looking plaid shirt and grey vest hugging his frame. It makes an inexplicable joy swell in my chest and I don't even say anything as he giggles and pokes my nose, grinning before he falls back into the hug.

"Hi, Dan." He mumbles. His arms wrap around my neck and his curls graze my chin, he clings like a koala and it reminds me of what I was like with my mum when I was little. 

I turn my head and meet Phil's soft eyes, directing Jamie toward him as well. The kid stretches out an arm so that he's hugging Phil too and I see Phil's expression shift as he looks at me, shaking his head a bit with a smile as he presses closer to me so it's almost a group hug of sorts.

It's weird to think that the last time I'd seen James had been before the junkyard, before I'd fought with Phil or kissed him. James has been gone all day today with his father and must have only just now returned, with no idea as to what's gone on in the last two days. Or does Earring know now? Has his brother told him and the kids? I don't actually know.

The last time James and I properly spoke to each other, I'd told him everything. All the things I'd ever thought or felt, channeled into the the mind of a small child who somehow listened more objectively and helpfully than even Cat. It sends a giddy kind of nerves shooting through me, making me wonder if he's noticing my heart picking up speed as I hug him against my chest.

"Phil!" Jamie cheers, abandoning me to turn and lift his arms to Phil's chest and make dinosaur sounds, creating the most adorably endearing sight I think my eyes could ever possibly be graced with.

Phil laughs and growls back but looks back up at me as soon as the boy is distracted, reminding me oddly of that thought I'd had about him on the swing that one night. How he'd be wonderful with a child of his own, the sentiment apparently not just limited to our alone time. He looks so endeared by seeing me happy because of James, it's making it somewhat difficult to function.

This is one of those moments, completely the wrong time, where I really want to kiss him. It seems kind of inappropriate with the timing and so many people watching but I honestly couldn't give less of a fuck, overwhelmed by how much Phil means to me and how much affection his gaze holds.

"What?" I laugh, leaning back against him and making James raise his head. Phil hasn't explained why he's staring or what he's smiling at yet, just gazing at me without a word. It's like I just handed him the moon or something, though I guess my mind has just reminded me that I feel similarly overwhelmed. I wait for him to break the silence but he doesn't, he just gazes at me fondly.

"What?" I repeat, reaching out my free arm to shove him. James laughs as Phil catches my hand and pulls me towards him, squishing the giggling boy between us. Before I can even stop to question what the look means, he reaches over and cups my face, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to my cheek, right there in front of everybody.

Time freezes. The world goes silent. James goes dead silent and his eyes widen.

Actually, in reality, nothing much happens at all. Everyone around the fire is too drunken or unbothered to care and no sound actually falters, but my whole world slows to a halt. This isn't a stolen touch for just me and him to hide from the world, a moment shared behind a set of doors or a cluster of trees. This is where anyone could see it and he doesn't even care, making this small little moment significant.

And the wide-eyed gaze of the boy between us confirms it, his voice cut off mid-sentence even as Phil draws back.

Suddenly, I'm wondering what he's thinking. Was it wrong to let that happen in front of a child? Is James freaked out because he didn't want to see it?

My chest flutters oddly at James's expression. He's frozen, gazing at us stock-still, until-

"I knew it!" He shouts suddenly, bouncing in my arms and slapping at our chests lightly. I nearly fall back and a woman in front of us jumps, turning around for a moment in alarm at the sound. "I knew it! I knew it! I knew it!"

A laugh bursts out of me and I hide my face in my hand, trying to stifle it before the inevitable attack as Phil giggles quietly.

"You did not." I protest.

James slides back down to the ground, grabbing my arm and shaking it. "Yes I did! I told you! You said he would never like you back!"

Phil snorts and I snap my gaze up to him in offence, watching him try to stifle the sound sheepishly. His blue eyes are glowing from the fire and he looks amused, James still talking along in the background.

"Sorry." He gets out. "What now?"

"Nothing." I squeak, though Jamie's giving me a cheeky look. I feel mortified.

"I knew it!" The boy cheers again, voice now a singsong. "We were talking about it on the swing. He didn't think you liked him too."

Why did I tell him that?! I knew it was a mistake and yet I'd done it anyway, and now I'm suffering the repercussions of it. I know this the moment I see Phil's face light up, probably ecstatic.

"You were talking about me?!" Phil exclaims, eyes widening. It's so impossibly meaningful that my heart does a strange little jolt, startled by how he suddenly looks a little emotional.

I want to sink into the ground and hide. I don't know why this is so embarrassing given it's probably obvious by now that I like him, but I feel like I've just been called out.

My lack of answer seems to be all the answer he needs, though. His eyes widen and he smiles wider, which just riles up James more.

"It's okay to tell him now, Dan! It's not a secret anymore!" The kid shouts, so loudly I clap a hand over his mouth to keep from alarming more people and he squeals. He shoves my hand aside, round blue eyes staring up at me. "When you two get married I want you to-"

"Stop." I protest. I look at Phil desperately but he just reaches over and wraps his arms around me, squishing me to his side in about the least dignified way possible. I can feel my face beginning to burn but I don't pull away from him because no matter what he'll see me express, this feels like the opposite of hating what's happening.

My head is lowered against his shoulder and I let my lips brush his neck in passing as it does, a more subtle alternative while there's eyes on us. I'm not ashamed of my relationship by any means (actually I'd preferably flaunt it as obnoxiously as possible), I just feel like some moments belong to just me and him.

"You're encouraging him." I murmur, hoping my tone is coming out scolding rather than as grossly in love as it is.

He leans his head closer to my ear and there's a smile in his words when he speaks to me, breath ghosting my cheek as he winds his arms around my waist.

"I can't help it. You're so cute when you're flustered." He chuckles.

I roll my eyes and hide my shame in his neck, bunching up the hood with my fingers so it covers them a few moments later. He's being this way on purpose, I reason. Even Phil isn't that sappy.

"What did I do to deserve you?" He asks warmly, making me wonder who is really mildly wine-drunk. I'm the one who downed both of our shares, but it's Phil who seems affectionate tonight.

I'm overwhelmed by the closeness and smile at him sheepishly, even debating for a moment whether it would be too much to just kiss him now. I can't believe that at one time I couldn't.

"Oh, be quiet." I complain, hiding my face in his shoulder which is conveniently close by. Realistically, of course everyone can still see me even though my vision is dark, but I pretend I'm hidden this way, pressing closer to him because it makes me feel safe.

James shoves my side to remind us he's here, giggling when we both stumble.

"Gross!" He complains, finally seeming to snap Phil out of his sappy haze. "Does this mean he is your boyfriend now, Dan? Cause I don't think I can deal with love stuff if he's not."

I debate on how to answer that and ultimately just end up staring, trying to protest the wording.

"Hey I-" I get out, just as Phil says "yeah."

"Shut the hell up." I hiss, wiggling out of his hold and turning back to James.

Why does it feel like every serious confession I make ends up going to James before anyone else? It's my own fault I guess that it's getting back to Phil, but the notion of him knowing the intricate details of my pining is mortifying.

"How did this even happen?" Jamie asks, rightfully confused.

So he doesn't know. I look to Phil and see he's thinking the exact same thing as I am, the two of us deciding it's best not to frighten him with the truth. A little boy doesn't need to know about mutated zombies or the attempted murder that was saved only by immunity. He was there for the moments before, the question sounds more like a simple when and how.

Still, that leaves me stuck for how to explain it to him, Phil seeming equally lost.

"I guess..." I stare at the fire and then to the bandage on Phil's wrist and I run my thumb over it gently, aware of the bite beneath.

"...I guess it just took us facing the confederation for real." I say quietly, looking over at Phil as if to convey to him how I really feel about this. "We were scared, but the thing about a word full of zombies is that it reminds you of what you have and makes that matter less."

Phil blinks, raising his eyebrows at me in question. I just shake my head, knowing he gets it.

James looks like he's bursting to ask more questions but just as he does I see Mark emerge from the crowd followed by Felix, Chris, Jack, and Earring. I feel my heart sink a little at the notion that our calm moment is coming to an end, not really wanting to go over plans or think too hard right now.

I try not to let the bitterness show on my face though, raising my gaze to my friends rather than Jack and smiling halfheartedly.

Mark and Felix are clearly plastered, they have arms thrown over each other's shoulders while Chris trails behind them, looking much more subdued but entertained nonetheless. He waves and I make the effort to raise my hand and wave back, not wanting to harbour my bitterness towards him any longer now that I better understand both what he went through and what he did for us.

James looks up at his dad as the man walks over and puts his hand on his shoulder, seeming confused as to why he's there.

"Have you said goodbye yet, buddy?" Earring asks unexpectedly, question aimed at the boy standing between us.

The inquiry immediately raises some questions in my mind, confused at to where they'd go.

I hadn't noticed initially when he'd walked over but Earring looks tired, irritable even. This is my first time seeing him since before the attack and he's still not with his Beard. In fact, though we'd been talking to Beard earlier in the night, I don't see him now. Michael is also missing, making me wonder if James saw us and ran off, separating himself from them. It doesn't seem like such a serious offence though, at least not something to be annoyed at your son about when you're in a location now secured by the Resistance.

"Goodbye?" Phil asks for me, eyes flicking to James who has turned himself minutely toward us. "What do you mean?"

James's expression is just as perplexed and he takes a step back from his dad, frowning.

It's not that I want to challenge what he's saying but the word goodbye can't have that many connotations. Goodbye is finite and this is the apocalypse. If you say goodbye to someone you can't exactly reconnect with them via a phone call.

"We're leaving tomorrow morning." Earring explains, folding his arms. He seems to notice the look on my face and his expression goes oddly stoic, but he doesn't correct himself.

It takes a few moments for it to really register, what exactly he's saying. It seems to hit me at the same it hits James, denial slamming onto me at what the man's saying.

"Wait-" Mark's expression as sobered slightly, confusion evident.

Leaving. They're leaving tomorrow morning. My heart drops in my chest and Jamie grabs onto Phil's wrist, stumbling backwards and looking at his father with his eyes wide.

"You're leaving?" I blurt out, seeing Earring's uncomfortable reaction to so many eyes looking at him in disbelief. I realize by my friends' reactions that they hadn't seen this coming, even Jack who's basically running this camp now looks surprised, like the man hasn't told him.

"What?" James exclaims, expression struck. Somehow, that reaction seems even more severe than mine. "No."

"A war isn't a place for my boys." He says flatly, looking right into my eyes. "Surely you understand that. My brother and I are still the smugglers of this city and keeping James and Michael has already endangered them once."

I hear his words but don't really process them, seeing Phil step towards the boy protectively.

"We need to do our jobs." He adds rapidly, noticing the look in my eyes as I feel an unusual spike of anger. "Everybody's here in this group right now because we all have an important role of some kind, and you're about to get yours. This is mine."

"I don't want to go." Jamie snaps, burrowing into Phil's arms. "I don't want to."

I watch his arms wrap desperately around Phil's wrist, and it hits me hard right as he says it.

I don't want him to go either.

"He can stay here." I say hurriedly, knowing it's hopeless before I'm even done speaking. James is looking at me, looking with those same wide blue eyes that had crinkled in joy when I'd played dinosaurs with him, when I'd told him my secret, when Phil kissed my cheek, now full of something something bad. "He'll be safe at the camp. He doesn't have to-"

"-If this all goes well, you'll see them again." Earring snaps quietly. It's so unlike him, the harsh tone and the impatience, that it takes me aback for a moment. There's something weird about his expression and in his tone, like he doesn't believe his own words.

"Your role here is an important one to the rebels, and I'm sure as hell not getting them mixed up in that."

This times he looks at James, conveying his very firm point.

"I know you're all very fond of each other, but this about taking care of yourselves."

He thinks what the rebels want of us is dangerous. In the back of my mind I guess I knew that already, but in the face of possibly handing to let go of James forever, it suddenly seems ten times worse.

"You think what we do is going to directly affect James?" I ask petulantly, still stubbornly refusing to believe what I've heard.

Earring frowns, looking to Jack with raised eyebrows. "I think maybe you should ask Jack about what your mission is before you go telling me how to be James's parent."

I feel a spike of anger at the wording of the challenge but Phil puts a hand on my arm, though I notice he's not speaking either. He looks at Jack like he's prompting him, raising his eyebrows in challenging silence.

"Okay. So tell us."

Jack nods seriously, turning to look at Chris and then back to us to tell us what he'd dragged us here for in the first place.

"Considering you, Dan, are their target and they don't know about Phil being alive, we've decided that you two get the honor of closure." He says slowly, not even using introductions but instead getting straight to the point. "When we invade, your job is to kill their leader, Wirrow."

He has a no-nonsense voice. I'm caught off guard for a moment at the implications of his words. It takes a moment for the words to sink in, and then the words hit me, full force.

Out of all the people who have gathered here or joined forces with the resistance in other parts of the city, of all the gun-wielding rebels or people with a vengeance for blood, it's Phil and I that they've chosen to finish the job, to destroy the whole operation by taking down the one who has the control.

An honour. Our job. A chance to change the world permanently.

I think I surprise everyone with the laugh that suddenly bursts out of me, considering what a serious moment this was probably expected to be. I can't stop it as I chuckle in disbelief and shake my head, amazed by the gall of this man and the whole operation, really.

"That's... quite the responsibility." I say as seriously as I can, and Felix looks at me like I've gone crazy.

"It is." Jack replies coolly, seeming to miss the irony.

I stifle another laugh knowing I'll just confuse everyone, still somewhat in disbelief that they think they're granting us this, that allowing us to be the ones to kill Wirrow is an honour.

I look to Phil and I realize he gets it, seeing the disbelief in his expression.

If I'm not crazy- and of this at least I'm pretty confident I'm not- then I can see that it's fairly obvious that we don't owe this man anything. Just because we're on his side doesn't mean he leads us, nor do we lead him. He thinks we'll be gratified that he's decided what we can and cannot do, when in reality, nobody will ever control my life again.

I made a promise to Phil long ago that him and I would kill the man that took everything from us. No matter what stood in front of us, no matter how many odds were thrown away. Wirrow took Phil away from me once and laughed as he did so, sadistic in his unhurried venture to get the immunity he thought was mine, kidnaping my father and my friends to manipulate me. I was always going to kill him, it isn't a privilege some  medic man taking power in a survivor camp can just decide. There is no leader anymore.

"It certainly is an honour." I snip out, unable to help myself. This time everyone seems to see my hand on Phil's wound, this time the bitterness isn't missed.

"You're valuable even if you don't want to be." Jack says solemnly. "I figured you'd be glad to hear that when I told you."

I cross my arms, staring at him flatly since aggression will get us nowhere.

"We are." Phil says before I even speak, catching me off guard. "But understand that Dan and I aren't here just to kill someone or to be told how to do it. We appreciate the help but we want to work with you, not for you, and that starts by telling us the truth."

The man's expression does falter there and he seems to realize what is being said, looking offended that we'd accuse him of withholding information. Phil sounds so confident it's a bit shocking, and I feel a wave of pride.

"Everything you've been told is the truth, we just ask that you work with the Resistance too. I'm sure you can expect mutual honesty when we're fighting the same thing, and know that we have to be confident in trusting you when we share our plans."

I raise my eyebrows. "What, you don't think that you can expect us to be loyal? After all we've done?"

Jack is implying that he can't trust us. We've been in the heart of the confederation, beaten and shot and kidnapped and lied to. Even my drunken friends seem to realize the magnitude and offence of this, eyes going wide.

"Enough." Earring snaps, gripping James's shoulder. "You'll have your chance to say a goodbye tomorrow. I don't want anymore of this being talked about while my six year old is here."

"We'll talk more about this tomorrow, perhaps, when the wine has worked out of your system." Jack says pointedly, looking at me and nodding curtly. "I have no doubt that we are where your loyalty is, but I think we both need to work on the trust."

He turns to walk away and I see Earring grab James by the arm, not hurting him or anything but weirdly urgent.

"Is everything all right?" Phil asks him worriedly. Earring turns to him and meets his eyes irritably, eyeing his son who is still stubbornly clinging on.

"Yeah." He says gruffly. He won't look me in the eye though and I wonder if he's angry at us for giving Jamie ideas about fighting for freedom, though the kid looks more afraid of being separated from me and Phil.

"It'll be all right." Chris says reassuringly, stepping up next to us and looking at our former guide. "I'm going in after PJ and I'll have a whole backup of rebels behind me. The same goes for Dan and Phil, the danger is significantly lower and and it shouldn't involve your-"

"-I'm sorry, but my brother and I have to go." Earring interrupts. "It's been good to work with all of you but we're not staying. End of story."

He tugs on James's arms to pull him away and to my surprise he doesn't scream or fight it. He does, however, break away one last time and throw his arms around Phil and I both, hugging our middles as best as he can. Fear and anger and injustice all build up into one emotion in my chest and I sink down to hug him tightly, holding him between me and Phil and squeezing tight.

"You guys will take down the confederation, right?" James whispers as his dad starts forward to take him away again. He ducks his head and ignores the advance, speaking into my shoulder.

I feel something in the pit of my chest. A hope, a determination of some kind. The faith of this little boy and the sureness in his expression reminds me what we're fighting for in the first place, and I nod firmly as I solidify my resolve.

"We will." I reply, looking into his eyes. "Of course we will."

He tightens his hug and I don't even think about our friends still here to watch, biting my lip. He draws back a bit and places his hand over mine and the other on Phil's, looking sad suddenly like the reality has just hit him. It's a strange thing to see on a little kid, something beyond the age his face reflects on the orange light of the fire.

"I'm gonna miss you." He mumbles. My heart sinks and I want to shake my head, to deny that I should in the first place.

"We'll miss you too." Phil says automatically. His next words are unexpected, tinged with an optimism that is good this time, "but we'll see you again, yeah? We're not gonna let ourselves be like that forever."

I can't even form words so I just watch as Jamie's sad expression slowly morphs into a smile, nodding his head quickly.

"Yeah." He says with a nod.

He grins and then turns to be led away by his father who takes his hand and nods at us silently. I watch the little boy go, waving at us one last time before he's obscured completely, and I feel like I've just let go of him forever. Earring had just said that there will be time for goodbyes tomorrow, but I don't want to say it at all.

We stand in silence for a moment and I feel Phil's arm looping through mine, fingers reaching around to take my hand.

It's not the last time. I remind myself. It's not a goodbye, it's a "go kick some ass and then I'll see you again."

"Sleep." I say immediately, and he nods, already turning for the tents. It's one last stand against the forces working to take over our lives, a sort of fuck you in a passive display of independence.

"Sleep." He agrees. There's so much more to figure out in life still but maybe we can hold on just a little longer.

~~~

I wake up hours later, eyes opening to a shock of black hair.

Phil is fast asleep in my immediate vision, my eyes open and alert suddenly because though it's probably some ungodly hour just shy of sunrise, I feel wide awake.

I've woken up to my heart racing. I can't even remember the dream now- but even as I'd swum back to consciousness thoughts of Wirrow and missions and separation sparked through my mind and sent some anxious nerves through my very veins and assuring that I'd slept enough.

It takes a while for the pace to calm down, and still the frantic thoughts won't quit. I end up having to tug myself against Phil's chest and hug him like a pillow to calm the feeling down, my nerves calming significantly as he curls in on me instinctively while he sleeps, surrounding me with his arms as I hug him against me for a second, just letting my heartbeat slow down until I'm fine again.

Even in the early days of the apocalypse I'd always calmed down this way in some variation. I remember back when we used to sleep in that collapsed barn and I'd wake from nightmares, heart pounding and vision hazy. Though Phil didn't know it, I always got up to sit by the fire with a blanket wrapped around my shoulders and my eyes on him, fast asleep and safe under his own covers. Just seeing him there content was enough to remind where I was and why I was there, which I suppose makes perfect sense now.

It actually doesn't take that long once I'm properly awake and sat up slightly to cup his cheek, taking him in. He looks so relaxed, even in this weak light where I can barely see him. He's lying on his back with his hair pushed off his face clumsily and it's just so sweet and and nice, I snuggle myself closer and brush our noses with a stupid smile on my face.

He's dead to the world.

Back before, I obviously didn't climb into his arms or seek his touch, back then it was just a waiting game. I remember being mortified to find his hand in mine some mornings, surfacing from dreams about death or that car crash years ago as he tried to comfort me in the aftershocks of things he couldn't even see.

Sometimes, I dreamt of losing him and just never admitted it, hiding any shred of vulnerability to protect him and myself. The idea of needing to be comforted by him had seemed so ludicrous then and now I'm doing just that, shamelessly concluding that I surely needed it all along. He's the one thing that has always been able to calm me down and here he still is, doing that.

I used to find any excuse to be able to go for a walk with him after a bad night, sometimes with Cat and sometimes without. The truth of the matter is that I always, always needed him, and now as this very thought crosses my mind in such a quiet, isolated moment, I find that that is exactly what I want again.

Unable to help it really, I place a gentle hand on his chest, leaning down and pressing my lips to his lightly.

Immediately his eyes scrunch shut of course, a confused little mumble leaving him adorably before his eyelashes flutter.

I kiss him again a little more firmly this time to let him know what's going on, dragging my fingers through his hair and making sure to leave little presses until he sighs suddenly in content. He opens his eyes blearily, hands coming up to rest on my arms as if he's orienting himself. It seems to catch up to him fairly quickly what's going on and he hums happily, breathing in sharply through his nose and yanking me against his chest.

I'm not expecting the embrace and so I quite abruptly lurch into his shoulder, falling against him and fumbling in the near-dark. He breathes in deeply, the sound whooshing in his chest, and I feel it swell suddenly in a yawn, his arms winding around me and pulling me right on top of him like a teddy bear that, by some proportional error, has found itself to be six feet tall.

My vision is partly obscured by his neck. I roll my eyes and chuckle slightly as his whole grip relaxes, his brain clearly only functioning at partial consciousness.

"Hello, Philly." I say jokingly, keeping my voice low in case other campers in nearby tents are still sleeping. "The sun isn't up yet. How dare you still be sleeping."

"Mmmf." He groans sleepily, hand coming up to my face clumsily in the dark until his fingers slide under my chin. He lowers his head and tilts mine so that he can see me, eyes level.

I smile and let our breaths mingle, trying not to feel too guilty about the waking him, which he doesn't even seem to care about.

He's still for a moment as we sit in the silence, moving to lay us on our sides so he doesn't have to hold our heads up. His hands stay exactly where they are even as I fall off of him, lying to face him instead and giggling at the way the pillow has squished his cheek. Only moments later we move closer again, nudging together our noses and just smiling at the voluntary closeness.

"And what ungodly hour have you just awoken me at?" He murmurs warmly, speaking with his lips only inches away from mine.

I huff out a laugh and close the distance instantly, letting my eyes fall shut as I do so that it's just a brush of warm lips, soft feeling and nothing more. He kisses back, pressing his lips to mine gently before looking up and me and smiling.

"Early." I respond right after and he rolls his eyes, muttering something about how he figured that much out himself.

"That's not an explanation." He complains. "As much as I enjoy your beautiful face, I still demand a reason as to why you've roused me."

I smile at him sideways even though he can't really see it, enjoying the sleepy lilt to his voice.

"I want to go for a walk." I say, and he raises his eyebrows.

"Oh do you?"

"People kept interrupting us yesterday." I reason. I make sure to trail my fingers over his shoulders, tracing his collarbones and chest to make the words more enticing. "We could go down to the river and walk along it, everyone else is asleep so it would be just you and I for once."

He giggles and I shoot him a look, seeing him shake his head apologetically with a glint of humour in his eyes when he realizes I wasn't expecting it.

"Last time you asked me to go for a walk, you called it a date and we got so drunk I told you everything I shouldn't have." He supplies, still grinning a bit. "What do you have planned?"

"Nothing!" I sputter, wanting to cringe at how innately bad at flirting with him I was before we were together. In my defence, I was making a go of it on my own. I still am.

"Oh, I'm sure." He drawls, sounding much more awake all of a sudden. He lurches forward suddenly, wrapping me into his arms and squeezing. My face is pressed into his shirt and I make a disgruntled sound until he relinquishes his hold, letting go enough for me to at least breathe again.

"I'm serious." I snap, nudging him irritably. "Get up. I want to go before anyone else sees us."

"So we're doing the sneaky thing now, then?" He trills, looking fairly amused.

"Yes." I'm sure he knows why I want to avoid being seen by anyone if I can help it. Maybe it's a bit possessive, but I dare someone to try and tell me that I haven't earned that right.

He brushes his hand through my hair and leans us together for a moment so that he's bumping my forehead, smile soft and amused.

"Why not, then?" He decides, words whispering close to my mouth. "That sounds fair."

That being said we do end up cuddling for another ten minutes or so before any real decisions are made, and the decision only ends up being that we carry the blanket we're sharing with us on our walk in case the need arises for some form of cuddling elsewhere again.

The day, or what we see of it so far is stifling hot and muggy for the first time in days. That's the first thing I notice upon stepping out under the early morning stars, the warmth in the air strangely unseasonal. The moon hangs overhead in an almost artistic crescent, a tinge of blue-violet to the south the only indication that it isn't still late-night type nighttime. It's transitional time, Phil carrying the rolled up blanket under one arm and letting me hold his hand with the other.

I wonder exactly what time it is and truthfully cannot say for certain, there's no trace of sunrise yet but I know we fell asleep shortly after sundown. Now that we've been out here a year the concept of waking early is fairly normal, my guess would be somewhere near four a.m. since I can't see the sun.

It's a short walk to the river. We only have to wander down our line of tents and out into the clearing past where last night's bonfire had been held, crossing the wide span of grass and then moving past the woodshed until we're at the waters' edge, trying to maneuver ourselves towards the inky black water on a patch of shoreline that's sandy. The idea is to be out of the line of hearing so we don't accidentally wake anybody.

Though I'd intended to go for a walk, we end up sitting instead the moment we find the edge of the river. It's Phil who takes his place first and much my endearment I see him immediately grab at the nearest stick and start drawing in the smoothened dirt with it, tracing a circle and letting me watch as it takes shape before I look up to stare at him instead. It's warm, a bit too warm for my sweater, but I sit down anyways and make an active effort to press as close to him as possible in an inconspicuous way.

"So... I have an idea." He quips, smiling at me sweetly.

"What?"

"We should go swimming now."

He quirks an eyebrow at me and I laugh, startled by the childlike giddiness in his excitement. I honestly can't tell if he's serious, we can barely see each other in this moonlight.

"What are you on about?" I chide, staring at him sideways. "Where on earth did that come from? You're crazy."

He gestures to the river, grabbing my wrist and standing up. "I'm serious! We could get cleaned off and swim around a bit. The last time we did anything like was in the confederation bunker."

I take one look at the dark water and all I can think about is how it looks cold and he's warm and I'd much rather we just held each other and fell asleep in the grass here.

"Maybe I like being grimy." I say petulantly, curling into myself to make myself slightly heavier. Resistance is key.

He rolls his eyes. "Maybe you're scared you're gonna get bitten by a lake fish again."

I shoot him an indignant look, his smile still innocent and unassuming. We're using that joke, are we?

"I wasn't," I reply, "but I am now."

It's not that I'm enjoying the notion that I'm denying him of what he wants, because I'm really not, but part of being friends with me is dealing with the stubbornness of me not wanting to admit defeat once I've said no.

He stares at me silently for a moment, almost calculating like he's making a decision, then dives forward and yanks me so hard I end up falling into the grass.

"Oh no." I laugh. "No, no no."

"Please?" He pouts, pulling my arm with both hands now and nodding his head toward the rushing water.

"It's probably freezing!" I whisper-shout. "The sun isn't even up yet."

"Well since you woke me, don't I get to make the rules?" He leans down a little more so that he has a better hold for tugging, frowning cutely. "It'll be fun."

"There are other much more fun things I know I could do with you." I reason, raising my eyebrows. He just smirks, making my heart jump and a blush bloom on my face, voice fumbling to say something to catch myself.

"And we can't see the bottom." I add. He keeps grinning and I keep staring at him solemnly, managing to hold the look until he gives in.

He groans, kicking my foot gently and then flopping down at my side. I don't know what he's planning until he leans back into my space again, nudging his nose into my cheek annoyingly until I sputter and swat him away.

He giggles and I can't stop myself from laughing too, taking both of his hands and squeezing them, both for the motion and to pull him back into a sitting position again. It makes him smile widely and it's unreal how that alone makes my mind blank, caught by his giddy expression.

"Please?" He pleads again, bringing our joined hands to his chest.

I drag out the silence just to play with him, pretending to think really hard.

"You know I can't say no to you." I scoff, earning me a whine at how long he had to wait for such an answer. "I'm just harassing you because you have the weirdest ideas ever."

He cheers and opens his arms so that I can clamber on top of him, crossing them behind my back and hugging me before answering. It feels like safety and security, my head settling onto his chest and my ears hearing each breath in and out, the rush of air in his lungs.

"I thought you'd be waiting for the first opportunity to see me with my abs out." He retorts with a knowing smile, tone entirely joking.

Even so, I'm not quite used to having him flirt back at me, even now. I reach around my mind for a witty comeback and end up drawing up a blank, grinning dumbly until my eyes find his pale skin.

"Abs." I repeat, curling my hand to poke his flat stomach, making him squeal in protest.

He shoves me off and curls against the grass, taking my hand with him so I can't tickle him as he goes. Now it's me that's trying to yank him the other way, flimsy kicks being landed to my shins to ward off attacks.

"Stop it!" He protests. "I hate you."

"Debatable." I reply.

It's so bloody warm out, I can feel sweat beginning to bead on the back of my neck just from that small exertion. It makes the notion of the water seem much more appealing suddenly, not that I'd admit it to Phil.

When did it get like this? Yesterday had been warm but I'd just been getting used to summer being over, not expecting the heat to return at full force before the sun is even up.

I hold out my hand and he grabs it, using it to help himself to his feet. He uses my arm to steady himself and trips almost the moment he's upwards again, clumsy as always as if he has two left feet.

He looks at me hopefully and I sigh, which seems to be all the answer he needs.

I sit back to tug off my shirt, moving gently away from the embrace in the most obvious demonstration of defeat I can give without outwardly acknowledging that he's won. To his credit he doesn't tease me, instead just looking pleased.

He waits patiently, standing in the grass until I lean against him again, letting him pull me into a hug as light wind breezes my back. It feels so indescribably good to be able to be held like this. Letting us be this way is the most calming thing I think I've ever done, and it's beyond my fathom how I used to be able to persuade myself that I didn't want it.

The warmth between us is somewhat uncomfortable but I don't want to let go of him and end this so I look down at him, seeing him nod though I haven't spoken a word and carefully stepping back a bit so he can pull his off too.

"We're actually doing this, then." I state, seeing him glance at me as his arm gets stuck in the T-shirt hole. He seems confused as to which way is up so with a snicker I stretch out my hand and tug on it for him, freeing his arm and letting him figure the rest out.

"We are." He says through muffled fabric, his tummy already poking out as he fumbles. It shouldn't be so endearing to see my best friend struggle with a shirt but it is, even the most mundane things somehow ridiculously appealing just because the struggles are his. Being realistic, it probably is just because it's him. He finally manages to get it over his head and I laugh at the ridiculousness, far more entertained than I should be.

And maybe I stare a little as he completes the motion, having never really allowed myself to look at him every other time we'd been like this as the fabric lifts over his head, up and off and tugging his hair along the way so it crosses his face. You'd think after being naked together in that bath in the confederation bunker nothing should matter anymore, especially not something this meaningless, but it's almost like I'm embarrassed, unable to get used to the fact that I can appreciate his pale skin and tapered waist, all soft edged and beautiful without a hoodie overtop.

Maybe my hands find his shoulders when he turns to face me, slowly sliding down to his chest. Maybe my heart flutters a little because I realize how much I didn't know I wanted this. It only gets worse when he lowers his head and presses his lips to mine gently before stepping back, smiling fondly even as he's turning to look back at the water.

"All right!" He chirps, tossing the t-shirt aside without a second glance, turning back and taking my hand. It shakes me out of my daze and I realize that I really am the one with the problem, the one whose thoughts are so gay that all he can do when he sees his boyfriend shirtless is appreciate how beautiful his body is.

That realization has me blanking on him for a moment, grateful that it's dark and he can't see the flustered expression on my face. It's been so long since I've been with anybody and this feels like a totally different plane from that, the absurd amount of emotions I have towards Phil.

"You'll want to take off your jeans too." He suggests, snapping me out of my thoughts. It takes me about two seconds to figure out what he's asked of me and then it processes, making me lift up my eyes to stare at him in confusion.

I'm still distracted by our proximity, my eyes going to his lips as if we were still pre-confession. Of course in this world we don't have swimwear and of course we've bathed in rivers loads of times over the last year or so, so why does a bit of romantic implication make that any different?

"Wha-?"

His eyes widen and I realize I must not be as concealed as I think I am in the shadows, he immediately blushes too at my expression and has to gesture with his hands towards the water's edge.

"To swim?" He squeaks. And goddammit, it's just like at the lake, we'd had this exact same problem because we'd been too awkward to admit that most people don't like to swim in one of their few pairs of worn out skinny jeans.

I groan, facepalming and hiding my face in his shoulder out of embarrassment.

"God." I mutter, nose pressed into his soft skin while my cheeks burn as I wait for the embarrassment to die down a bit.

He laughs, turning his back and stripping to his pants, stepping away from me even as I try to disappear into the crook of his neck again.

"Come on, idiot." He chides. "I won't look."

I huff indignantly. "I don't care!"

The squeak in my voice suggests otherwise but true to his word he stays turned even as I protest, letting me fold my jeans and toss them down next to our shirts and the duvet. The sounds of the river relax me a little as I take some time to let my heartbeat calm, folding Phil's sweater and jeans as well so they're not wrinkled later. Not that it really matters- old habits just die hard, I guess.

He does turn around once I walk up to him again but he doesn't say anything, leading me to wonder if he even cares. I step up to his side and he brushes a stray curl behind my ear before starting forward, our fingers brushing as I let my hand bump his.

It's not like we're naked. Not that even that would matter at all, it's just so unfair that we always end up like this, standing apart like opposing poles when we could be pressed close with fingers intertwined.

I follow close behind, getting so lost in thinking about this and what it could entail that I don't even think as him and I cross the sloped bit of grass towards the sand spit leading into the river, not until I've stepped onto the edge and my toes find the water. Phil waded I'm so casually, I'd been expecting nothing as I stepped in too.

So it's to a near heart attack on Phil's end that I end up shattering the predawn with an eloquent exclamation.

"What the fuck!"

He visibly jumps, whipping into fighter mode so quickly it shocks me a bit.

"What?!" He exclaims, voice frantic like I'm about to die. "What is it? Is there a zombie?"

"This is so cold!" I clarify, feeling goosebumps rise on my arms. He deflates immediately, looking incredulous. "Though I'm not sweating now, so I guess that's ideal."

His hand flies to his heart and he stares at me, stumbling back into waist-deep water and shuddering at the temperature.

"You ass." He groans, shaking his head. "My heart is going so fast now."

He looks like I've just taken years off his life and I can't help but laugh at how dramatic he's being, folding my arms and smirking.

"Oh, what? I scared you?"

"Yes!" He protests, defiant that I'm teasing.

"I'm sorry, I love you." I trill out with an exaggerated lilt. He rolls his eyes, lowering his head to cup some water in his hands and splash it into his face.

I do the same, wading until the water is up to my waist and then washing my face and arms, feeling better as the layers of dirt on my hands and cheeks are washed away. I take special care to massage the water through my hair and under my eyes, loving the way the chill feels against my skin. The surface goes from gritty to soft and smooth and I realize how dirty I'd actually been, how clean I'm becoming now.

Then we actually swim, sinking into the water and letting the pull of the current tug us along a bit, sinking down to our shoulders and grinning like honeymooners any time our eyes meet. I show him I can do an underwater handstand and it turns out that he can't, his attempt ending in a dramatic tumble of limbs as falls in sideways.

It's ridiculous, how easily we're entertained. I laugh when he splashes and makes seal noises and he watches as I float on my back, lying back to float too eventually until we float-bump into each other, drifting ourselves to a slightly deeper section of the river mouth that reaches my chest.

I like to tell myself that I love him yes, but I'm not obsessed with him. I manage to uphold this thought even after my mind reminds me the first few times that he's pretty, but after the fifth or sixth it's starting to go out the window.

He lifts his head later, droplets dripping from his hair. It's something about the way the water sparkles on his eyelashes, caught in the tangle of dark and shimmering when he blinks. The way the water reaches up to his waist, making him curl against the coolness a little and it's just impossible to ignore how exceptional he is, how being apart from him even in this stupid sense is something I don't want to put off any longer.

Fuck it. I think, grinning at him suddenly. I'm obsessed with you.

It has my feet moving forward before I can tangibly think, water swishing around my waist as I lunge forward. My hands collide with his chest and then I'm shoving him backward, his eyes widening comically as he registers he's falling before he hits the water with a splash.

Cold current rushes in all around us but his skin is warm, I press myself against him and cling tightly with overlong limbs, bringing us back up to the surface with a tug. Water drips off his hair and onto my face so I press my palm to it and flatten it back, forming the quiff I adore so much and brushing our noses before the current pulls me back. Even so, I reach out and he catches my hand before I float too far back.

I close my fingers, squeezing gently as I'm drawn back to him. As soon as I'm close enough again he puts an arm around me to keep us in place, meeting my eyes and letting me know this attack was appreciated this time.

I look at him.

"Idiot." I whisper.

He smiles back, looking for all the world like I'd promised myself to him forever or something. Isn't that what I'm doing today?

I can feel soft sand beneath my toes and I'm beginning to get used to the chill, the warm summery air making it ebb away. Phil's still smiling and if I keep my mind clear I'm sure this could be heaven, especially when his expression changes as if he's acknowledged as much.

"Likewise."

He gazes at me almost as if asking for permission and I roll my eyes at him, smiling at his gentle approach and letting him step closer. I can hear leaves rustling in the trees overhead, a soundtrack to listen to as his hands reach me and move to hold my cheeks. I'm still for a moment, meeting his smile with a grin, just smiling disbelievingly at him before he leans forward and kisses me all at once.

You'd think that after the first time I kissed him there would be nothing that would amount to nor equate that exact feeling. Nothing has ever and will ever again make my heart swell all at once and my lips feel that same sudden urgency that he possessed that very first time. And truly that's probably how it'll always be.

But, if I had to go back and choose a comparative moment, this would be that time. It's the sheer feeling, the overwhelming realization that he is the one who's moved in first, just as he was the one who took that leap of faith and kissed me back when we were both still uncertain. He's let his guard down and completely given himself to me. He's taken everything, his words, his love, and his heart, and placed it all in my hands.

And I have given him mine.

The kiss starts off gentle, only slow, sweet presses of our lips together at first. I'm noticing now that Phil has a consistent habit of cradling my face with his hand as he kisses me, fingers gently pressed into my jaw as if I'm the most precious thing he's ever held. He handles me like he doesn't want to let go of me, and it's so overwhelmingly perfect that I want to cry. I've known for a very long time that I want to kiss him and can now amazingly say that I have but it's moments like this where it's just going to hit me that he is everything I've ever wanted.

There's only the faintest bit of lingering strangeness to it. In the back of my mind I can't help but remember as I cup the back of his head, this is my best friend. This is the boy that I found on the internet, the one I met at the train station and had a whole life with before any of this began. Really that just makes this so much better though. All those people who tell you to fall in love with your best friend. This is it, this is why.

Phil, who saved my life. Phil, who's still alive.

It comes as no surprise to me when he decides to take it further, deepening the kiss with his body pressed against me and his hands spanning down my back. It feels like making up for lost time; there is a need, an urgency behind it, each meeting filled with words left unspoken as his breath mingles with mine. I'm so deliriously happy I wonder if it should be impossible, unable to keep from hugging him against me just for the comfort of it. I feel his hands at my waist and trust him not to let me fall, sinking against him entirely.

That surge of energy from learning what's being asked of us is back, giving the kiss a sense of urgency as if we need to get it in before everything goes to hell. It's like Phil can sense this, his fingers tightening in the ends of my hair and grounding me in reality. We don't know how the next days will go, each breath and moment feeling reckless.

I pull back for a moment, remembering suddenly that I need to breathe. I touch his cheek and he looks up at me dazedly, like he's seeing me for the first time. We're still close enough that his chest nudges mine and I can see my fingers against his cheek, the Confederation feeling so far away right now.

He lifts his eyes to meet my own and we just stare for a moment, committing each other to memory. My being goes weak at his look of adoration.

I see him blink, then shake his head sharply as if he's trying to rid his ears of water. A smile spreads across his face and he looks like he just discovered the cure to the virus.

"Oh my god." He exclaims, looking drunk and giddy even though he tastes as sober as he actually is. He runs a clumsy hand through his hair, mussing it. "I can't believe I actually just did that."

I laugh, wrapping my arms around his neck. This is such a new thing and yet it feels achingly familiar, I let out a laugh and shove him playfully, then immediately pull him back towards me to hug him.

"You're such an idiot." I whine. It comes out muffled because his shoulder's in the way.

"You have no idea." He protests, looking at me fondly. "I've been in love with you so long it doesn't feel real sometimes. I'm still in love, for some godforsaken reason."

"Can't imagine why." I get out, though now I'm blushing horrendously again.

He hums noncommittally, but the warmth is still there. "Me neither."

I shake my head and just let myself smile for once, looking right into his eyes because honestly, there's just no way to get used to someone saying that to you.

"You always seem so surprised, like you can't believe I'm in love with you." I observe softly. It's a recurring theme, sheer happiness quickly filled by sheer disbelief on his features. I don't know how to communicate everything I feel for him, though I can make up for my years of hiding myself by trying.

"I can't." He says honestly. "It's too good to be real."

It sends a pang through my heart and I shake my head vehemently, not sure why he can't see himself the way I see him.

"Wow, you got me Phil. I'm only pretending to be in love with you!" I say dramatically. "I don't even know why I woke you up. Nothing redeeming about you."

I contradict this by lowering my hands to his waist, pulling him in closer and bumping our noses.

"Hey!" He protests. "Now stop that."

"You're the one that decided to come out here with me." I retort.

He quirks an eyebrow. "Well you were just-"

I have to slap my hand over his mouth to stifle the knowing giggle that bursts out of him, glaring at him purposefully while his eyes crinkle into a smile, catching my breath. I shake my head.

"-What? Waiting to get you alone, was I?" I quip.

"It sure seems like it." He says, raising his hand to my cheek. "We've ditched everyone again."

I shrug. "Well, I was."

I try to cover his mouth but he swats my hand away and presses his lips back to mine, albeit much more gently now.

I kiss him, holding his cheeks to bring him closer and then raising my eyebrows when he draws back.

"Would I ever?"

His blue eyes are smug, hands sliding behind my neck as he walks us backward into deeper water.

"Yes." He insists. "You definitely would. You always do. It's always been your idea, from the first camp to the apartment and the bar. I'm keeping tabs on us. Are you gonna tell me I'm right?"

I feign innocence for another moment longer before looking up and meeting his eyes, smiling fondly to his satisfaction.

"Maybe." I mumble.

He smirks, a look crossing his face suddenly. It looks like he has something- be it a sneaky attack or a cheeky comeback at the ready, and I decide to beat him too it before the tension boils over.

I jump back and splash him suddenly, sending water surging into his face. Immediately he splutters and lunges after me, his floppy fringe sopping wet and obscuring his vision so that he trips right by me and falls in the river.

"You idiot." I wheeze, grabbing my stomach and laughing harder when he surfaces back out of the water, hands going up defensively as he advances again.

"You won the little battle at the lake." He reminds me. "If it weren't for the zombie fish I'd maybe be proud of you."

"And I'll win again!" I shout, accepting the challenge.

I hear the Phil equivalent of a battle cry and know it's only a matter of moments before attack, charging at him as he goes to grab me so that we end up colliding in a hug of sorts. It's like we're five years old, two boys wrestling and trying to dunk each other between splashes of water, shouting and screeching and probably waking someone up.

Trying to hold Phil in the water is like trying to grab the water itself, his gangly body squirming out of my way over and over. I keep tripping on the sandy bottom or stumbling over a tangle of weeds, though I have to dodge him too. We're both uncoordinated and clumsy and laughing too hard to take it seriously, eyes blurred by water, but I do my best anyway.

"Ha!" He shouts, slamming into me so that his whole weight is hitting me and knocking me back. We're both laughing as we splash into the shallows as one. It's ridiculous and it's stupid and I love it more than anything, wrestling with him in the water and trying to splash him before he splashes me. It's evident fairly quickly that neither of us are exceptionally fit even now and it shows when we both go to splash each other again and end up just leaning into each other instead, propping the other up while I rub water out of my eyes.

He presses our shoulders together, sinking into my side.

"I'm tired." He announces evenly. "I don't give a shit if you won."

"I didn't." I reply breathlessly, closing my eyes and hugging myself against his chest. He's out of breath too and he's warmer and softer than the water. He smells like himself and I breathe him in while my breath returns, suddenly very grateful that he persuaded me to do this.

The playfulness fades and I suddenly just feel an overwhelming calm, the anxiousness of the next few days feeling manageable.

He raises his hand to my chest and ones of his fingers finds my shoulder, running a fingertip along the scar from when Wirrow shot me. I freeze as he traces it, eyes transfixed while his other hand settles on my waist. It makes a weight lift off my heart and I press myself closer to him, trying not to think about what I must look like.

Because the truth is, I feel slightly self-conscious. I'm thinking about how thin I've gotten since the beginning of the apocalypse. I'm very aware of how he can see it now, the dips of my ribs slightly visible at my side and lean arm muscles hardly the traits of a desirable man someone would probably look for in their boyfriend. He just looks so good right now, all tall and strong with his swept back hair, the scar from Felix's gunshot just a healed blemish on his waist now. I'm hardly comparable.

Just as this thought enters my mind, he draws back and pushes my sodden hair off my forehead, brushing it back and meeting my eyes properly this time with a much more subdued expression. It's more serious than the last looks we've shared and not for the first time it feels as if he can read right into my mind. His eyes are soft and he strokes his fingers over my cheek, like I'm something exceptional that he can't believe he's seeing.

He holds my gaze, then closes his eyes for a moment.

"You're so gorgeous." He says quietly.

He doesn't laugh after, doesn't comment on how that word is cursed between us. He just looks, and somehow it doesn't feel as jokey or overtly sweet as the other things we've said. It's so immediate and genuine like he's not filtering his thoughts, and it makes my smile fade in an instant.

I want to say but I'm so skinny, but my hair is a mess and I probably have sunburn. My hands are so scarred. There's layers of memory, droves upon droves of insecurity that told me these things even in the normal days. Pain I would pretend not to feel when my girlfriend laughed at my skinny arms and thin shoulders, when she told me I looked better with straightened hair even though getting it that way took ages and left it frayed and dry later. She left me because I wasn't enough and now I'm worse.

"With a bullet wound in my shoulder?"

I don't mean to ask it. I look up into his eyes and he seems so serious, nodding faintly.

He runs his thumb over it. "Yeah."

I want to protest this, but when I look into Phil's eyes I see nothing but affection as his gaze trails over my frame, warmth in his eyes. Somehow, impossibly, I find myself believing him and not my own thoughts.

I bite my lip. This is somehow more real than the giggles and stolen moments, more intimate than a fleeting touch. This is who we are at our most sincere, because just as I know what his breaking point is, I know him well enough to know that he means it.

"And you are fucking beautiful." I reply.

I don't even wait for his answer, pulling him against me and capturing his lips, bracing my hands on either side of his head and knocking us both down a little. Water rushes in the river current around us and pools in his collarbones and I shut my eyes, feeling the chill on my spine while my skin is warm and he leans right back, pressing against me and kissing back, like he'd been waiting for it.

I don't know how Phil makes everything better. Why Phil makes me believe things that I couldn't even tell myself. Looking at the world through his eyes is so much more spectacular somehow, when I see things the way he does, I realize just how exceptional he is. He's different. He's different and I like that, want to shield him from the world and have him to myself forever.

He draws back eventually, our lips slowly separating. He looks down at me and I just laugh, the sound quiet and happy, nothing greater or lesser than that. It's so simple. I lie back and wrap my arms around him so that I'm cradled safely against his chest, letting him stroke my hair and just saturating in us, in all that we are. His shoulders are pale and cool, he hides his face slightly as if embarrassed to be so vulnerable and they poke out like his own collarbones. I don't want to stop hugging him.

I don't think I've ever felt this vulnerable either. It's a stronger feeling than any kind of dangerous situation could incur, these occurrences have our emotions for each other involved. Somehow, when the moment is deeply personal, that feels more exposing than fear ever could.

"Wow." He whispers. I catch my breath and look up at him, thinking only about how I feel about the same way right now.

"Wow." I repeat softly.

His breath ghosts over my neck, making me shiver. The cool water and warm air sends a shudder down my back and he chuckles at the realization, lifting his head and meeting my eyes.

"Sorry." He says quietly, staring at me affectionately. "I forgot."

I realize he's talking about my neck, the way I'd typically be flinching out of the touch right now if it were anyone but him touching it. I shrug. I don't really mind.

"It's okay, I like it."

I don't even realize what I've said until his expression blanks, and then he just smirks.

"Do you?" He asks, drawing back with a look of surprise on his features.

For god's sake. I roll my eyes at him but he just seems amused more than anything, apparently unaware of what he does to my heart.

He quirks an eyebrow and tilts his head to press his lips to my cheek, then unwinds his arms and turns away to swim downstream a bit, disappearing for a moment under the water. It leaves me standing frozen with my heart beating far too fast, a blush burning on my cheeks as the current continues to swirl at my chest.

The next half hour passes in a similar way, the two of us swimming under the stars and finding any eloquent excuse to touch each other in some way. A arm around shoulders, a poke on the cheek. My eyes have long since adjusted and I spend most of my time just following him back and forth and feeling this inexplicable need to cling to him, much to his amusement. The morning whiles away with flustered looks and stolen kisses, the first proper moment for us to really find each other for the first time.

Some people might call it a sappy honeymoon phase but something tells me we might always be like this. I can't see it going anywhere, can still remember the time before.

There's no one around to interrupt us. We've gone far enough downstream that we're hidden by trees and I revel in the isolation. We haven't had alone time in so long, the time at the bar hardly sober and cut off early when we were found out. I wonder now if we would have admitted more if we'd had more time then. I guess I'll never know.

Eventually, Phil gets a different idea.

The sky has paled slightly and it's getting cold. We take turns running our fingers through the others' hair under the water and hardly caring that we don't have soap to be properly clean. The chilly water is refreshing but soon I'm so cold I can't stay in any longer. Getting out has us running to the blankets, the air drying us off and warming us right back up gradually. We sit in the grass and I wrap the duvet around both of our shoulders, thoroughly convinced that life cannot possibly get better than this.

This idea comes in the form of his arms snaking around me from behind as I'm sitting down, his chin settling on my shoulder. It's an obvious move to make me pay attention to him not to mention adorable so I comply, turning my head and seeing him lift his.

He raises his fingers to my hair and starts kneading over my scalp, pulling the curls through the spaces between and making my eyes fall shut instantly.

I feel his hands skim down my neck and over my shoulders, settling draped over my chest.

"I'm still so tired." He admits quietly, letting his head weigh me down. I let his arms wrap around me and sink against his chest, letting him tuck into the dips of my back.

His fingers explore the plane of my chest more openly than he normally would, eyes sleepy but fascinated as they travel over the open skin. His touch is light and gentle, I savour the feeling of his own bare chest resting comfortably against my side. I could fall asleep at this point, drowsiness finally returning with the softness of the duvet surrounding us.

His fingers are warm. He begins tapping the way I do when I'm thinking, except I can tell that this is just mindless- he's tired and there's little to say to fill the silence. He's drumming little rhythms on my shoulders and his face is now pressed into my neck, lips brushing my skin and a smile in his voice.

"I'm just procrastinating all my time without you, really." I admit.

"Everything about you is just so wonderful." He mumbles right back, as if this is a competition and he can't stand not winning.

I squeeze my eyes shut and try to stifle the sheer happiness I'm feeling, wanting to whip around and kiss him again even though I know he must be exhausted by now. I've already woken him up early, it wouldn't be fair.

He situates me better from where I'm sitting against him and then drops little touches of his lips to my cheek and my neck, lazy uncoordinated motions. It makes my heart jump a little every time.

"Should I stop?" He asks sheepishly when he notices how still I've gone, my form slightly slack in his hold.

I try not to laugh but it bursts out all the same, my head whipping around to face him as he blushes and hides his face sheepishly. He genuinely is such an awkward person. I love it.

"No, idiot." I tease. "I'm so fucking happy right now. This is us, right. We can do anything."

He considers this, hugging me tightly and seeming to think for a bit before he speaks.

"I want to do everything together." He admits. "As much as we can."

He sounds so giddy, like his thoughts go beyond the next few days or minutes. He thinks of me and it makes him want to have a future, his eyes alight with visions and plans I can only imagine.

It's scary in a small way, the thought of having him like this for always. We can't go back- there's no way. I wouldn't want to if I could.

It's such a terrifying notion to know someone cares about me this much. There's fears in my mind, irrational ones, the darker parts of my anxious mind that make me worry that I'm not enough for him, that he'll change his mind and suddenly realize he doesn't feel the same way or this has been a sick dream, waking me up to a dangerous world where things aren't the same. I have to remind myself that he loved me before this world even went to hell. I'll never find another person like Phil.

I breathe in slowly and then breathe out, feeling for one of his hands and grabbing tightly to press it to my cheek, leaning my head against our interwoven hands. My whole chest feels full- my heart beating strong. Surely it could be deadly to love someone this much, but hell if anything will ever stop me from doing so.

Everything. It's one word, what he wants from this, from us. Like forever, like I love you, it sends shivers of nervous feeling down my spine.  They're words meant for just him and I, too precious to share with anyone else.

"When you say you want to do everything together, what does that mean?" I ask him, lifting my free hand to brush back his hair as I lay my head back against him and fiddling with the strands.

I keep brushing, knowing it calms him down even as his heartbeat becomes more apparent in his chest. It could just be my imagination, but somehow I doubt it is.

He thinks his words over before he says them, letting go of my hands and hugging me closer instead.

"It means everything."

He doesn't miss the look in my eyes and I don't miss the one in his, a thrill setting the heartbeats alive in my chest.

I turn so that we're facing each other, my hands settled on his shoulders so that I'm looking right into his eyes. "What does everything mean?"

"Anything." He looks me in the eye and I can't conceal the euphoric grin that crosses my face, making him smile fondly as well. "As long as it makes you happy I want to do everything. Jack is kind of an asshole leader but he knows what we want. Above everything else you're always my priority, let's always agree to put what we have first."

Almost involuntarily I think back to just before we'd gotten in, when I'd been frozen for a moment just realizing how much I'd wanted everything about him, and my smile drops instantly. At one time I wouldn't have thought it possible to find someone who cares about me like this, who is so focused and genuinely driven by my happiness and simultaneously means fucking everything to me. I've known for years now that Phil wasn't like the others that had flitted in and out of my life without a second glance. I realize he's thought about all this just as much- if not more than I have.

"I just thought of something." I blurt out. And I hate to say it, but it's true.

He looks surprised, the look on my face not suited to the charged romantic feeling hanging between us. Thinking about how sure Phil is, how much hope he has for us together and for the future, it's like my mind can't give me a break as darker thoughts cross my mind.

He guides me forward gently and I wrap my arms around him so we're hugging loosely, resting our heads together.

"What is it?"

My heart is torn- divided between an immense fear and an immense love that's taking over my mind. I'm scared to say aloud that I want everything too, terrified that this is all about to be shattered right in front of us. It's already begun, James being taken away and our separate roles from Jack. It shouldn't all connect but it I make it because it's all happening so fast.

"We could die during this invasion." I blurt, hands shaking a little as all the visions of him and I together begin to vanish with how impossible they are. "We might never get to do anything."

He stills, and though I'm looking down now I can feel his wide eyes on me, questioning where my mind is at.

"Dan."

"Don't tell me not to say that." I tell him, though my voice is gentle because I don't want to upset him. "I know life isn't perfect for you either, Phil. I know you think about it too."

"But... what if we don't?" He asks hesitantly, optimistic as ever when I can't even drive this away. I realize this is the one thing we don't feel on an equal plane, his experiences starkly different from mine.

My voice is suddenly choked and I feel angry, scared of his naivety and what it could do to him.

"What if we do?"

The words cut the air and hang from a moment, unable to be retracted. He stills, taking a breath.

"We won't." He says shortly. He sounds taken aback, like I have no faith in us. "No matter what, I'm getting out of this with you. Alive."

He doesn't understand that I've felt like this about us before. I was so in love with our love, intoxicated before I even realized what it was. The world is placing such massive weights on our shoulders again and it's overwhelming. The last time we'd promised to take care of each other the world took him away shortly after, not even managing to take me out with him. If not for his immunity, I wouldn't be here by this river with his arms holding me tightly, I'd be dead before Mark or the others could find a way to stop me.

I remember being drunk in the city, squashed into a booth with him with my emotions on display. We'd so easily made a pact to kill each other if one of us was bitten to die, thought nothing of it because we believed it could never come true. Maybe it's wrong to believe Phil's promise could ever be empty, but the truth is I just don't know.

At the same time, I'm not upset with him. I could never be upset with him. This is a pressure I place all on myself, it hangs over me like it always has and it's a miracle that only now I've begun to crack.

"I've already lost you once." I gasp, not even realizing what I've said or that there's tears in my eyes until my chest suddenly feels devoid of air. His eyes widen and vaguely I can already feel his arms surrounding me before I've even sunken against him, my breaths suddenly coming out sharp because I can never fucking forget it. That moment when he collapsed and fell lifeless against me, the way I'd had to comprehend that he was suddenly gone from my life forever. That never goes away.

"Dan." He breathes, realizing all at once what's wrong. He presses his forehead to the side of my head and grabs one of my hands, squeezing my fingers so tightly I have no choice but to ground to that rather than the spiral of panic that's rising in my throat and in the back of my mind. I gasp, hating that there's tears in my eyes in what had just previously been such a beautiful moment between us.

I take a shuddering breath, gasping and turning my head so that I've pressed my forehead to his, noses pressed together and ragged breaths mingling. I breathe him in like air, throat closing even as the rational part of my mind begs me to realize that he's here and alive right now. I lift my free hand and clutch at his face, pulling him close and he lets me, trying to calm the burn behind my eyes.

My eyes go wide and I feel a strange twist in the pit of my stomach, eyes fixing on him suddenly.

"I-I'm sorry." I mumble, pressing my sleeve-covered eyes into his shoulder where the skin is soft and dipped. "I'm being stupid."

There's a willow overhead like the one in the camp where we met our friends, the grass soft and cushiony as I lay back to look at the stars with Phil's hand in mine. As soon as he takes his place next to me there's a rustle and when he shifts the air is suddenly alive with glowing lights, tiny and flickering and flooding the air above our heads as they float up and into the flowy tresses of the tree and lighting the surface of the water.

Fireflies.

"You're not." He says instantly. "This isn't stupid. You're allowed to be afraid, Dan."

But I'm not. I shouldn't be. He survived after all, how weak am I for getting flashbacks of a moment that amounted to the best one of my life eventually.

"You're right here." I croak in protest. "I'm crying about... nothing."

He pulls back from the embrace, lifting his hands and gripping my face in both hands, forcing me to raise my watery eyes to his rather than face the dark which sends my mind spiralling. He leans so close I can see the three colours in his eyes, even here and now in the darkness .

"It's not nothing." He insists. "It's a reminder to me every single minute that you love me. It's a reminder to you that you've survived every hell this world has had to offer. You're not weak for crying, Dan." He uses a thumb to brush the corner of my eye, making me bite my lip to keep from sobbing. "You're crying because you're being strong."

This makes something collapse in my chest and I shudder then, real tears spurting in my eyes and rolling down in fat, wet trails. I fall against his chest let myself go limp completely, letting everything roll out that I've held back for two years as he whispers into my hair.

I let my heart beat too fast. I let my chest rise and fall. Nobody's ever told it to me that way before. I've never let myself feel like this, let it all crash down and be told that this is my strength- not my weakness.

"I was right there." I shudder out, pressing into his chest and letting my tears run into the blanket, vivid memories of the junkyard burning behind my eyes. "I saw it happen and it- it didn't really register at first what was happening. Not until you collapsed and I caught you in my arms and you just- you stopped b-breathing..."

"Dan." He says quietly, cutting me off and running his fingers through my hair, pressing his lips gently to my forehead. "It's okay. You don't have to talk about it."

He cares so much about me. This is the comfortable default, my mind starts to spiral and I start to say too much so he comforts me, assuring me that I don't have to expose my emotions because I hate being vulnerable but I can't do this anymore. He lets me speak too.

"No." I gasp, surprising even myself. "I need to say it. I have to or I'll never forget it if I don't. You went completely still as you fell against me and your skin went cold and I really thought you were gone."

I run my finger over his collarbone and wonder vaguely how this pain can be so strong when he's here now, staring down at me in awed silence.

"I screamed, I think." I say shakily. "I screamed and held you to my chest like a baby and that was what felt like the world ending for me. Like they were all there, Phil. Felix and Mark and Chris but I wasn't hearing a word they were saying because I thought you were dead. It's like- it's like you can't think or breathe, everything just collapsed and it's just like they say in those five stages of grief things, I was in complete denial."

His breath catches and when I look up his expression is pained, eyes fixed on me. We lock eyes and we don't break the gaze, unable to. This moment is so important for both of us, something to move us both forward and destroy the past.

"I'm never leaving you again." He says roughly, sounding angry almost at the injustice of the world. "Never. I'm the one who ran away from you when I should have stayed because it was a good thing, what I was running away from. If they tell us we have to separate it's not happening."

I clutch his hands. "No. It's not. I know you don't know what it's like but it's so much fucking pain. I can't lose you."

He falls forward and I throw myself against him and he buries his face into my hair, pressing us so closely the meaning of the moment could never be missed.

"Maybe this is just the universe trying to tell us something." He mumbles, somehow managing to find a slight of humour right now of all times. "We're symbiotes. Every time we've been forced apart something bad has happened. What if we did it voluntarily and actually wanted to be separated? It would be like the world spun off axis or something. Like, what do you think would happen if did try moving further apart?"

He gestures to the space between us and despite it all I chuckle wetly, shaking my head. I'd always thought that codependency was a bad thing but this isn't exactly that, this is Phil and I and some force greater than us at work that I don't even believe in, logic be damned when it seems impossible that we should have even found each other.

"Honestly?" I admit. "I think the universe would rip in half, Phil. Let's not try that."

He chuckles and I surge up to press a kiss to his lips before a giggly sob bursts out of me, tears sliding down my cheeks and onto his chest without embarrassment of any kind. His lips are cool and he draws away to swipe the droplets away with the pads of his thumb, smiling at me with the deepest look of affection.

"I love you." He whispers, pulling me against him again when that just sets me crying harder and reminds me that there's good in the here and now.

His palms rub comforting circles over my shoulders and I sink into him with a sudden desperation, so full of feeling I can barely think.

"How is it strong to cry about something that doesn't even matter now?" I ask irritably but he just shushes me, enclosing my palm in his.

"It hurt then, and it hurts later too, that's normal." He says quietly. "Just because it mattered most then doesn't mean it doesn't matter now. Me being here now doesn't change that. It isn't nothing to me, seeing it hurt you."

I sniff and lay my cheek against his chest, the skin soft and his heartbeat singing a melody to me; alive, alive, alive. Phil Lester is right here and he's alive.

"I r-reckon I'm a bit traumatized, yeah?" I mumble, brushing away a tear as it lands on his skin. "I'd be mad not to be. I watched you die, Phil. I was right there and that could have been it."

"I know. It's terrifying." He says seriously. "I didn't even feel it really. One second the monster was there. I saw you, I saw your face fall. And then it was all just... dark."

"I want things out of life." I blurt, suddenly passionate about it all. "Some things we can do together. Some things I'll never get to do. I can't help it."

Time is ticking down like a sadistic clock, a countdown we didn't mean to get caught up in that swept us away and left us scrambling for understanding. I want to do everything with him too. I don't even know what exactly that is but we can make it up as we go along, living and breathing off each other until it all makes a sense.

You. I think suddenly, sitting up and staring right at him. The pain vanishes, my chest bursts with something strong and passionate. You're all I have, and you're everything to me. Everything. My life isn't living if he isn't here with me. It was Phil who taught me to live, and I want to believe that we can live long enough to do all of it.

He looks shocked only for a moment when my hands find his chest suddenly, our eyes locking as I'm hit with an insistent need to tell him everything. Forget the dancing around each other that we'd done before, we don't know what's coming next. It makes this moment all the more important.

For a moment there's total silence, our eyes locked and minds so close in wavelength I can practically read his thoughts. It's like we're feeling the same things and thinking the same thoughts. Before he even asks it, it's like I know what his beautiful mind is going to say.

"What do you want, Dan?" He asks gently, speaking into the night and running his thumb along my cheek.

My heart is still in my throat but I look at him with an awed kind of wonder, seeing him stare back as he moves to sit closer to me, the quiet too heavy for words. His eyes are full of confidence and meaning and I know that we could never be afraid when it comes to him and I, not when we've seen everything and had the worst happen already.

He is, in all definitions really, really beautiful.

"You." I tell him, squeezing my eyes shut harshly and then reopening them, meeting his eyes with a renewed strength.

//

For a moment, there's silence.

Then he blinks and I see his eyes go wide, his lips forming an awed smile as he guides me away from him gently. He sits back and pulls me into his side, spreading the duvet out so that we can see the spread of early-morning stars and the moon high above as we sit back together.

Its captivating, but I can see the way he's looking at me, glancing at me subtly out of the corner of his eye before lying back down a small space away. Stealing glances just like me. There's a hushed whisper as we settle comfortably and watch the glowing high above, lighting the early morning even more brightly than the stars.

We don't do anything at first. Neither wants to make the first move and we're still a bit cold even in the summery heat of the air, both of us lying still on the duvet.

The air is fizzy and electric. With nothing tangible to grip onto its only a few moments before our arms move simultaneously and we find each others' hands, squeezing tightly while my thoughts run at a million miles an hour. With that movement I'm instantly calmed, knowing he's thinking the same way, about as sure of how to voice this as I am.

Even this minimal contact suddenly feels significant. His fingers are still a bit chilly from the swim but the air is so warm it hardly even matters, the cold fading as we lay on the long, soft grass.

My thoughts race in my mind. There's possibilities I'd never considered before, desire burning low in my belly as my breaths cycle in and out, deep and slow. I think about who we are and where we are, what we've insinuated to the other without a shred of hesitation. It's odd, to think we'd been pressed together all morning when now we're carefully apart, both tied to an invisible countdown as we wonder how long we really have to be together.

We could be gone any day now. I refuse to believe my last moments with him will be spent biting my tongue and succumbing to fear. I love him, so much that I can hardly stand it. Thinking about him is thrilling. I want to know what his definition of everything is before time runs out.

Does he feel it? The way we're dancing around each other is less competitive and more a countdown, a silent ready or not as we lay agonizingly still, the suggestion between us and hands clamped together tight, so strong that I can feel the beat of his heart in his pulse, anxious and thudding as mine. He feels it too, I'd be deluding myself at this point to say he's not.

I glance at him sideways the way he'd just done, seeing his pale body, clothed only in what he'd swam in just like me. He's so tall and gorgeous and, considering how in love with him I already am, it should be significant that something new is making an impression on me. I find I suddenly love everything, from his chest to his shoulders to the shape of his waist.

It's worse, still, because we're laying here silently. The anticipation builds and my breath coils in my lungs. I'm thrilled, but I'm waiting.

What are you waiting for? I wonder. I tilt my head to meet his eyes and find suddenly I can't tear my gaze away from them, caught by the wide pupils and the pale face fixed on my every expression.

Then again, what am I waiting for?

I wiggle my hips until I've shifted across the ground closer to him, eyes trailing to his long, lean legs until I've gotten close enough that my elbow bends and his hands can reach me.

Gently, he lets go of where he's holding my hand and prods me to roll over which I do, curling my fingers at my chin and feeling the warm grass beneath me. At first I don't know what he's planning, letting it come whatever it may be. God knows I trust him by now. There's a moment of nothing while I shift until I'm comfortable.

Then suddenly, there's that sensation of patterns being drawn by fingers on my skin, the light drag of nails that feels starkly different in this context. Each touch feels alive and leaves tingles as he traces my back in circling patterns, I realize he's tickling my back in the exact way he knows I love just like he did last night.

He doesn't say anything, just runs his fingers back and forth, firm and careful and blissfully slow. He sighs gently as my shoulders relax and a small smile he can't see crosses my face. Any nerves dissipate and suddenly it's just me and Phil, making me realize there's nothing to be afraid of. This is just us being together, comfortable with anything and everything, him and I.

"That feels good." I murmur. His finger twitches, he drags his fingers along my shoulder blades, then along my spine.

I can't see his face but I imagine he nods, worrying his lip between his teeth the way he does.

He kisses my cheek. "Good."

I don't know what it is about that word but it opens my eyes.

It's the comforting touch, paired with the words and the motion. His words are quiet, firm and approving and quite clearly pleased.

It makes sense suddenly. He isn't hesitating in any way. He's just waiting for me. There's no need to overthink this, this is ours alone.

Patience is a virtue, but I'm far past the point of patience now. I don't know how he's doing it. We're too alike to not be having similar thoughts right now.

I wait for him to say something else and my heartbeat picks up again. He draws his hand away and presses his lips oh so gently to the back of my neck, which in this exact moment is time, ends up being what is too much for me. It's a slow, lingering touch, feeling shooting down my spine at the exact placement in little electric bursts.

He puts a hand on my shoulder, and I can feel all the nerves in my body go to that spot.

"Dan?" He breathes. I'm sure he can feel the way I've gone frozen under his touch.

I wonder what he's thinking. His voice is low but he sounds so impossibly affectionate, tone warm and adoring.

I hold my breath. "Yeah?"

His hand settles on my waist, his lips speaking somewhere behind me as my chest comes alive with even more beats. It's so much, too much. I don't know how much more I can take.

His words are soft in a way I've never heard them before, tight and yet somehow simultaneously a little breathless. And he's edging closer to my neck again.

"I'm so proud of you." He whispers.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

It makes my hands shake a bit and I blush even in this moment, smiling to myself in the face of his affection.

His fingers brush the fringe out of my eyes and my breath coils in my chest. I feel his eyes on my face, before he whispers quietly, "You really are so, so gorgeous."

My heart flips over, my breath catches, and that's it. Two and a half years, from London to apocalypse. He eclipses it in a second. I don't even give him time to reach my neck, don't even stop to think about it.

I can't take it.

I roll around and knock into him suddenly, pushing him back with my hands on his chest until his head falls against the grass, my fingers scrambling to find purchase.

His hands find my waist and within a matter of moments I'm sealing our lips together, open-mouthed kisses rushed and deep and one after the other, full of unspoken feeling because he's already arching up towards me.

It's like nothing we've ever shared before, his tongue slips into my mouth and all I can think about is how good it feels, how perfect he is in this moment as I part my lips to kiss back. His fingers are digging into my side and my hands are holding his face and I can hear every shudder of breath that leaves him, his chest swelling and deflating against mine. I can feel the softness of his eyelashes against my cheek, tilting my head to get closer. I feel like the air in his lungs, the two of us keeping the other alive.

It's emotional, all I can feel is a deep, unwavering adoration for him. I want to get closer, to kiss him elsewhere. I shift so that I'm laid right on top of him, wondering in an unceasing loop, why didn't we get here sooner?

I sink into the kisses and cling to his hair, feeling his hands span down my back and hips, down my sides and then back up again. It's passionate and it's different, different in the most exceptional, wonderful way. He's warm and he's kissing me for real, crushed against me as I gasp into his mouth.

Perhaps to an outsider we're falling too fast, our movements too adventurous or hasty, but no one else has lived through what we have. To factor in the past- no one else sat with him on that dusty floor in the bar on that stormy night, drunk on wine and confessions and full of feeling so intense it was all I could do to keep my this to myself. No one has ever seen the love of their life die before their very eyes, only to be given a second chance.

Nobody else has to live with this timeframe, which could be infinite or down to the wire. Our love was a slow burn, one that sat dormant for so long the core was consumed and alive, just waiting to leap up and blaze so strongly that nothing could hold it back again. I was the one to fall in love the same way you'd fall asleep as they always say; slowly, then all at once.

There is this fear, the one in my mind that says this may be our only chance to do this in the same way he wants to do everything. For all we know we could be dead in a few days. I don't want to pretend anymore. I want to just be okay for the first time in my life. He wants it too, I know that. We're both just fighting to be okay, trying to make the most of the other and to feed off this high while we can in the best possible way.

Perhaps that's what's happening now, too. My limbs are shifting without conscious thought and I press against him in the hopes of getting even closer, trying to slot us together so I can kiss him like this for the rest of my miserable life. A giddy giggle leaves my lips as we meet, just high on the feeling of loving him. I don't think about my other half, forgetting to think that perhaps this whirling thought and feeling goes two ways, at least until I climb to sit in his lap and my hips fall against his.

Not until I feel him against me suddenly, making everything abundantly clear.

I can tell he's feeling the same thing because he stops kissing me abruptly, both of us looking eye to eye suddenly at the same realization.

The earth slows to a halt, time stands still. For a few seconds, I can't even hear the river. I can't hear the rustling of the trees. I don't move from where I am at all. I feel his hand slide to settle on my hip, but otherwise neither moves.

"Oh." He quips. In this moment he has the audacity to look surprised about this, as if it's been some phenomenon lately that we're living the most stressful life two boys our age could ever survive through, all whilst being incredibly attracted to each other.

I raise an eyebrow, cupping his cheek and shooting him a toothy grin. "Oh."

"Well."

"Well."

The tension breaks and he chuckles, his cheeks flushed and his lips red from kissing. This is more us than anything about this day so far, he shakes his head like I'm highly amusing, shifting his hips and then looking up so blue eyes meet brown.

"So we're doing this, are we?"

I huff out a laugh, running a finger over his cheekbone and feeling a surge in my heart. "It appears that we are."

He swallows but stays determinedly fixed on me, reminding me quite abruptly how vastly different our levels of experience are in this context.

I can at least say I have some form of knowledge in this. The difference is the level of attraction, the absurd amount of devotion I feel for him that makes me feel almost guilty in hindsight. The last time from years ago could never compare, Phil is something else entirely in comparison to her. She was wonderful for a small time, a good time, I'd thought it was love then. It's different though now that I've felt love like this. I had no idea how loved I'd be one day.

I press a kiss to his cheek to calm him and remind him of where we are now, seeing him relax almost instantly as his heartbeat picks up instead.

It's entirely different this time. This feels like forever, like it might be now or never, not predicted exactly but not altogether surprising or unwelcome. As soon as he's grounded I see the look in his eyes change, his shaky smile replaced with a glowingly fond one.

And I know what he wants. I can see the fear in his eyes that comes with it, a rare insight into Phil's insecurities. It's like I can read the fears in the depths of his eyes.

I can see it; the fear that I don't actually love him, the fear that he could do this wrong. Fear that's this moment isn't actually real. It seems so perfect, too beautiful to be real. After all we've been through, the universe is granting us this.

"Are you sure?" He lifts up a hand and brushes my hair aside, I smile at him softly like he's the best thing I've ever seen. He really, really is. Of course he would be thinking of me right now, when all I can think about is him. I let my fingers hook just slightly under the waistband at his hips, running my thumb along the silk-soft skin beneath.

"I'm sure." I say determinedly. "I've never been so sure of anything in my life."

His eyes widen and he laughs in disbelief. It takes him a moment to realize I'm completely serious, but when he does a whole new expression takes over his face. There's a stunned silence where he waits for me and I wait for him, until I can't wait anymore.

I raise my eyebrows. "You?"

He's silent for only a moment, and then he nods, a smile of disbelief breaking across his face. My hands find his cheeks.

I pull down his head and kiss him deeply, eradicating the doubts that are flickering out like lights so that there's no question- no hesitation in this. I barely even think when I've found my hands trailing over his body again, taking in everything without hesitation anymore. I don't think of anything more or less than him. I only know the heat of his body and the feeling of his lips, surrounding me entirely so that I may burn up and wither away. After that, there aren't any questions.

Each new movement is filled with shivers, with indescribable feeling. This is a first for both of us in some way, to be this in love and to want for so much at once. I've been with a girl before, but to compare her to Phil is almost wrong. Never have I felt so much for one person, never have I wanted to feel their skin pressed to mine, to bring them as close as I physically can. I want him.

And after all we've been through, I refuse to let fear take control of my life. I won't let it control his either, I'm going to set everything right and make sure that there isn't a doubt in my mind about the two of us. I want him to feel how beautiful he is.

I press kisses to his throat just under his jaw, feeling him twitch in response and hearing the sigh leaving his lips. I'm still being gentle, wanting Phil to be happy, just for a little while. That's all it is, really. I want Phil to feel as impossibly, deliriously happy as he makes me, to give this my all so that there isn't a doubt in his mind that I want him forever no matter how long it is. Maybe we'll never get to do it again. Maybe we'll get to do it a thousand times.

His skin is burning up in this darkness, so impossibly soft and smooth even with his life-roughed hands. His hands are finding my hips and I'm letting them, letting anything and everything that could happen, happen. His head falls back and his breath ghosts over my mouth, eyes focused on me entirely.

So I kiss him. I let my hands wander and my jaw go slack, lips and noses brushing, my hand between us pressing over his front suddenly and making him shiver. His eyes shoot to mine and I just press more firmly, watching in disbelief as his eyes fall shut before he relaxes and lets himself get lost in feeling rather than thought for once. We don't even say anything, I just continue my motions almost like my mind is on autopilot while he stifles a sound, meeting his eyes briefly to find them fluttering and alive. I'm looking at him when his lips part in pleasure, my fingers working over him mindlessly through the fabric.

I can tell he's trying to look at me but I distract him, rewarded with a gasp.

Until my hands are suddenly pushed away and I'm unexpectedly shoved back. Then he's leaning over me, and I realize what's going on.

He prods me back gently with a shaking hand on my chest and so I lay down, letting him climb over me and press his finger to the column of my throat. He drags his fingertip over it until I make a disdainful sound, to which he suddenly puts pressure.

"Phi-"

It only takes the hiss of shock that leaves my mouth to bring him forward. There's a brief moment where my mind is blank, still stunned by the explosion of feeling that had made my heart skip a beat at that single touch before only moments later, the feeling of his touch on the sensitive skin is gone and replaced with his lips on my neck.

It's cruel, really, how impossibly good it feels. All my childhood I'd swatted away my parents or younger brother when they tried to tickle me in that spot, all through high school I'd jerk away the moment someone would accidentally brush it. I'd never paid much attention to how sensitive my neck was other than to affirm that I hated it being touched but this... this is something different. I'm suddenly rethinking everything.

And he doesn't stop, pressing kisses to whatever he can reach, lingering at the junction of my neck and shoulder which makes my vision go dark.

My hands clutch at his back uselessly, I'm not even sure what they're doing as I find a patch of his hair and grip onto it to ground myself, toes curling at this small bit of pressure so close to a pulse.

I feel him pressing open-mouthed kissed along my throat, past my neck and over my shoulder. There's a tightness in the pit of my stomach, a burn in my chest, to the point where all of a sudden I can't take this anymore. I can't even imagine the expression on my face, only briefly meeting his eyes to realize he loves it. I'm so goddamn happy.

"Please." I breathe when I'm just about to give up entirely, unable to wait a moment longer when the the feeling of his warmth and the love in his eyes makes me ache to feel so much more. I never knew moments like these could be so warm and meaningful. It's like we just want to intertwine, to be together in every textbook definition. This is what we meant when we talked about it and now, this is all I want.

He looks surprised, probably not expecting the sound, a blush crossing his cheeks in the sweetest way as he draws back sheepishly. His hands fall to my waist and I pull him against me impatiently, laughing as he squeaks in surprise before bursting into laughter too.

The sound is stifled as his hips fall down and we're suddenly pressed together, reminding me that he's still clothed in one crucial way.

I squeeze my eyes shut and lower my hands to his waist myself, nowhere near shy at this point as my fingers graze bare skin before finding his waistband. After a brief hesitation, I slide my fingers underneath it, just barely brushing the smoothness of his hips.

"Can I-?"

He seems to know what I mean, shifting restlessly. I don't know why I'd be uncertain now of all times but he's already reassuring me, cupping my cheek with one hand and tracing a bruise on my shoulder with the other.

"Of course."

He lifts his hips for easier access and it only takes moments, the article slid away by more than one pair of impatient hands. My heart is pounding but not in a bad way. It should be a good sign I guess that I'm not scared at all, just elated and so, so in love. He looks to be in a similar state, kicking them off his ankles and then settling between my legs as I pull him against me and I can feel skin- all skin, and it's almost too much.

There's a stunned silence as my eyes flit between him and his eyes, my breaths suddenly faltering in my throat.

"Come closer." He breathes, his voice noticeably deeper than before, almost like he can't believe it. I comply without question, making sure to drag my hips over his thigh gently as I go.

We both know what we want but we draw out the moment simply for the pleasure of it. Time is fleeting, we never seem to have enough of it. Everything Phil and I have ever gotten has been rushed and frantic, beautiful- yes, but interrupted. I want to take this time and hold onto it forever, letting myself cuddle my nose into his neck while he trails his fingers over my skin.

Because this is the first time he's given himself to me like this. I want to make it special, make it all about him. It's an exceptional feeling to feel like you're stopping time. I don't want to imagine never doing this again.

I don't try to stop him when he drops a kiss onto my neck. Nor another one.

"Mine too." I urge him. It's so wonderful, so intimate to have him like this. I can't help but feel he deserves the same.

He chuckles and hugs me to himself tightly, nipping at the edge of my jaw and making me suck in a breath before finding the edge of my boxers, all we have left now.

"Of course." He manages to utter in this veritable chaos. "Anything for you."

His hands are gentle but much too slow, I watch him with teeth sunken into my bottom lip, heart racing. I can feel the pull of fabric at my side, see his eyes on me as he pulls it away. Off my thighs, past my legs. I feel completely vulnerable but I'm safe, I'm fine. It's a good thing to be vulnerable for the first time in my life.

And then I'm free too and he's climbing on top of me and his lips are on mine, I'm helpless to the wonder as I lose myself in adoring touch and emotion.

Legs tangled. Stomachs flush. Fingers curled around my wrist. It's completely different with skin on skin contact. It's like we've found our new favorite feeling, of course we found it together. It's better- it's a thousand times better- I'm lifting myself up and trying to press us closer together, dragging my hands along his hips and back.

For several minutes, we're just trying to feel as much as we can. Seeing what makes our breaths stutter, our hearts skip a beat. I roll my hips over his and he traces his lips over my throat, and suddenly there's nothing new about this at all. There's so much to feel and so much to learn, so much before us with the yellow flickering lights over our heads.

And when he really meets my eyes, I know that this moment will last forever in my mind.

I close my eyes and then slowly reopen them, slowing the beat in my chest and cupping his cheek close to my face.

"Can we-?"

I don't even need to finish my sentence.

It really is something when you realize you've given someone your heart. To know you've really and truly handed yourself over, feeling in the best possible way- it's not a moment you can predict. It just springs up on you- rushing up and swirling around you until all you know and all you are is love.

For us, it's a secluded early morning, stars still shining overhead whilst the sky burns barely red in the east and a warm river rushes melodically over rocks. It's pale skin and messy hair and crimson-blushed cheeks. It's guiding hands and reassurance. Patience and preparation, though the moment wasn't planned and didn't need to be.

And I wonder how I could ever have despised the sunrise as kid. That predawn darkness envelops us like a blanket and yet there is colour. There's otherworldly hues tinting everything, and there's colour we create ourselves. It's dark like me but hopeful like Phil, shades of light to balance out that dark. A streak of blue in an inky grey.

Minutes feel like hours, yet also like no time at all.

It strikes me in the moment when I lean in to kiss him again, laying back and letting him hover over me, press into me, committing to memory the moment in which my mind screamed at him I'm yours. I will always, always be yours.

There's no conscious thought to any of this, not really. It's just me, it's just him. It's us. I'm sinking and swimming in a sea of us, every breaking wave loud and vibrant in the air in a mix of sky and earth. Of night and day. There's nothing complicated or simple about it and I guess that's what it means to be in love; it means everything and nothing at the same time, and it's all your own. We're learning this together. We are a universe.

In this convergence of clashing colours under the sky, it's as if everything falls into place. It's not just the physical rapture, the overwhelming adoration and emotion behind it that reminds just how real this- and us by all extension, is. It's the feeling of having Phil as close as he can possibly be, hips flush to mine and breaths a soundtrack we share. It's my fingers that tangle into the grass below, the softest skin beneath dawning skies. To be alone, finally. To have this, to have him. It's everything we are when we almost weren't anything.

My heartbeat races in my chest. My eyes see stars. Words and thought twist into incoherency and breathless disjointed words are all I can utter in the form of his name, chasing a feeling we create alone.

Here. Now. If this is all we'll ever end up being, this is where I'm content to stay. Two beings here under the moon, intertwined. Connected.

And I let go for a while. I don't think about fears, I don't hear my own voice in my mind. I feel alive and afire, broken moans carried away by the wind and captured by the only one who matters, chests heaving in the darkness and setting my heart alight. I don't think about anything but him, gripping fistfuls of grass and leaning up to kiss him.

It all comes to an end with his hands in mine, my body shuddering and his warmth all around me. We breathe and gasp and see constellations together, and the earth spins on. And on. And on.

"Dan." Phil chokes out. I've never heard so many meanings in one euphoric, broken sound. It ends as my head tips back, eyes falling shut and breaths spent.

I'm blinded and dizzy, brimming with love even as he collapses, so much love to the point where I feel like I might burst from it. I gasp and it rolls out of me in a cry, everything. This is nothing like anything I've ever felt before.

This, this is love. Real, true, requited love, which is the best feeling in the whole world. For suspended, scattered moments, everything is bliss. I can't see or feel anything but bliss, but a warm, precious body collapsed against me.

Phil's head drops onto my neck as his chest heaves, gasps turning into giggles in seconds and lips against my neck becoming featherlight kisses instead. I pull him against me the moment my limbs begin to cooperate again and he cuddles up without question, fingers curling at his chest as we ignore the heat completely.

He meets my eyes from mere inches away and there so much emotion there it makes my heart stop, my eyes fixed only on him.

"Dan." He whispers again.

For a few moments we just lie there breathing heavily, my trembling hands trailing through his hair and making little tufts. Our eyes are met but our bodies are too stunned to do much at all. Eventually it has to end, but we stay together for just a moment longer, just taking the other in.

"I love you." I breathe, panting as he brushes our noses, lying limply against my body. After everything that's happened this is what I've been reduced to, the single, adoring emotion wrung out of me. It's spiraling through my mind and body in one endless loop, I want to say it over and over again. My words are full of so much meaning even to my own ears and I see it brings tears to his eyes, his hand fluttering down to my chest to feel each breath.

He brushes back my hair and kisses me softly, stroking my cheek while my body comes down off its high, bursts of pleasure still coursing through me amongst the exhaustion so that I'm shaking. I kiss him back, knowing the moment cannot last forever.

I breathe out shakily as he pulls back to lie down, my eyes already falling shut. We slump into the grass like boneless creatures and despite the warmness of the night and the dirt we move right back together, pulling the blanket around us with the last bits of energy we have left. Suddenly it's not such a dumb idea for us to have it, and I'm thankful that he thought to grab it. He passes me my t-shirt and I fumble with it, rolling back to him as soon as I can. The moment we're both laying down he nuzzles into my shoulder, tucking his head under my chin.

We're still mostly naked and I don't even care, suddenly it just feels comfortable. I pull him tightly into my arms and tangle together our legs, his skin soft and pliant against my own. We're a bit of a mess and I'm surprised that I don't feel uncomfortable. I feel fine, just impossibly, ridiculously happy.

I press my lips into his soft hair, smiling so hard my cheeks are aching. There's no going back now, but that's a good thing. We don't speak. Neither of us need to say any words to sum up what's just happened.

I've just made love to my best friend. There's nothing I can do to get around that. I'm exhausted and yet so alive at the same time and I can't take my eyes off him. The pink glow of his warm skin, the lashes that flutter when he looks at me, the hair pushed off his forehead whose wavy strands are slick with sweat. It's beauty, it's rapture, all of it is just perfect.

It's Phil. My mind sighs. This is Phil. He's here and he's in my arms and it's his head that's resting against my chest, breaths soft and even now and warm love all around me. If I'd known last year that this would be the outcome of all the endless danger and pining I'd gone through my mind probably would have imploded.

I smile up at him sleepily, looking through my lashes. He pushes his hand through my sweaty hair to form a lazy quiff and then pulls me close, wrapping his arms around me protectively as he sighs in content, relaxed and blissed out.

The minutes that follow are a dreamlike state, an otherworldly silence where I lay with his arms around me, wrapped so closely it's difficult to tell where one body begins and the other ends. Neither of us speak- we don't need to. We're two livewire heartbeats, pressed together and breathing as one, two halves of a whole.

I see the moon beginning to sink below the horizon a little while later as my head falls against his and I think blearily that it must be the sky's way of saying goodbye. I'm surprised even that manages to get out, nothing in my mind is flowing particularly coherently at the moment.

I look at down at Phil when he lifts his eyes and see nothing but happiness. I can tell he's half-asleep, his hands are trembling a little and he's looking only at me.

I try to think of something, anything to say, but my brain isn't in any way compliant enough right now to be intelligent. How can I think of anything to say when he's looking at me like that?

I end up blushing and laughing sleepily into his chest, turning as much as I can towards the stars, where the last glimpse of a crescent moon still hangs in the sky. 

"Did the moon just watch us have sex?" I mumble, gesturing above.

He snorts, laughing disbelievingly at the words borne of my delirium. I feel his lips drop to press to my cheek and then his nose bury into the crook of my neck, his eyes falling shut on the arch of my shoulder.

"Hah, yeah I guess, technically?" He giggles, his face in my hair and his fingers clutching the blanket corner. "And to think we thought we were alone."

And this feels like us. It's our language and our banter, as idiotic as always. It feels as familiar as coming home.

"Dammit." I groan and then we're laughing, just as we've always done through all of it, through lakes and abandoned parks and resolutions we fought hard to make. Dan and Phil. Phil and Dan. Through everything.

//

There's a stunned silence for a while in which we just lay there. Our bodies are drained but starving for touch and I can feel all of it, every dip and corner of his, my mind drifting lazily back and forth as I try to stay awake just a little bit longer. To keep this darkness even as ruby red and fiery orange are creeping over the horizon, morning.

"You..." he breathes disbelievingly, looking back up at me and tracing a slightly shaking finger over my chest, "are amazing."

"Amazing." I repeat quietly. My mind is hazy but I know what he means, know what he's feeling because I feel it too. "Oh."

Is it possible to be passionate about a person? I want to cocoon us in this blanket forever, moving is just not something I'm in the mood for currently. It's like all that will ever matter again is Phil, who looks to be in a similar state.

Who would have ever thought we'd end up here. If you told Dan of 2009 that his best friend that he admired over Skype calls would have fallen in love with him, loved him so determinedly and unconditionally despite everything to this point where we are now under the stars tonight, I don't think he'd have known what to say.

"You are." He teases, gazing at me warmly until I'm not sure I can handle looking at the expression any longer, not with his soft eyes and pushed-back hair. It's like trying to ignore the sun, he's captivating but overwhelming.

"No." I say firmly. "You are. It's because of you that I'm here now. You're wonderful."

I think our feelings are wired by the sleepiness and bloom of affection. Surely it could kill someone to love this strong, the high I'm feeling feels completely unreal.

"You say that." He mumbles. "But you've done so much yourself. You've come so far since that morning with the farmhouse. I just watched it happen."

"Phil Lester." I say firmly.

And I don't even realize I'd thought this all until it pours out of me like water, rushing over itself so rapidly and passionately it's like the words had been fighting to escape.

It's like the last barrier of honesty breaks. I can't let him go on living with this notion that he's nothing, just a blip of goodness in my life because he can't seem to see past his normalcy. He's never been normal in his life, it's too mundane and ill-fitting a term to describe him. He's unlike any person I have ever met.

He looks at me in surprise.

"I fell in love with you weeks ago." I insist. "It hurt so much not to tell you sometimes that I would have to shut my eyes and hold you against me just to keep it together."

I twist my fingers into his hair and then let it go, they way I know he loves, seeing his expression falter at the absolute stunned silence he's fallen into.

"I can't even dismiss this in a non-sappy way because I fucking adore you and your being alive." I go on, feeling a twist in my own chest that I'm not expecting. "You're something I want to tell the whole world about."

He's still but I can tell he's listening, I can feel every ounce of my words in my chest and they just keep on coming.

"When I was drunk last night all I wanted to do was and drag you up in front of the fire and kiss you in front of all of them, tell everyone who you were. I'm going to tell everyone about you one day."

I'm caught by the feeling that's closing up my throat, the pooling in my eyes when I just can't contain it anymore.

He looks at me, his voice barely coming out a whisper because he can definitely see it. "You did?"

"Yes." I breathe. "And even before that. You're the one who made me realize what it was worth to live again, and then you stayed with me. You stayed with me even when the world ended, and you never stopped proving to me that you'd always be here. I don't even know how to give that back to you. I want to travel the world and do everything with you."

I turn his head and press my forehead to his, speaking out the words that are ours alone. Words of promise. His lips are trembling and I know he's emotional because he's Phil Lester and Phil Lester is a sap but I'm not got to bite my tongue around him ever again.

"You're fucking incredible," I tell him, "and you really have saved my life. I want to be with you for as long as you want me to be."

His eyes widen and he ducks his head, hiding his eyes and breathing in abruptly. I pull my arms around him, and at first I don't know why he's hiding, not until then I feel his eyes squeeze shut and hear his breaths suddenly shudder.

His arms hold me tighter and I feel water drip onto my shoulder, his heart racing against my skin as the first choked sounds leave his lips.

I laugh when I realize he's crying. He sniffs and I pull him close to me, giving in when he yanks me against him and hugs me tightly, fingers pressed into the skin of my shoulder. I want to poke him for being such a sap, adoration swelling to near painful in my heart when he makes an indignant sound at my amusement.

As if anything could make him more perfect. My heart swells as I feel the tears sliding down his cheeks, my lips pressing kisses to his salty cheeks while the smile stays fixed on my face. He shakes his head.

His face is buried into my neck so it comes as a surprise when his head lifts and his eyes are suddenly whipping up to sit level with mine, snapping up so fast it's blinding.

And then he's kissing me. Not just kissing me but really kissing me, gasping as tears continue to roll down his cheeks and smiling like he's delirious. He kisses me until my head spins and then he just kisses me more, laughing and crying and raking his fingers through my hair. Morning breaks and light floods everything suddenly, but all I can think about is him.

I shift my hands to his face and seal my lips to his, yanking him down as I fall back against the grass and tangling us both in the blanket.

He has to pull back for breath, fingers shifting to pull my head against him as he shuts his eyes and squeezes me tight. And then his head finds my chest, the smile still wobbly and present on his face.

"Fine." He whispers out eventually, laughing wetly and letting me bury my nose in his hair, making my vision go dark. "I'm amazing."

I shake my head tiredly, tracing over his back like he'd done with me earlier.

"They call him Amazing Phil." I find myself mumbling. The blanket is soft and burrow into it gratefully, settling my head against Phil's where it's rested on my shoulder. "I don't know what the fuck they're on about."

He huffs irritably and lands a halfhearted swat to my face for the joke, shutting his eyes almost instantly after because he's already half-asleep.

"We can do anything." He breathes joyously, nudging into my neck in complete innocence now and still breathing a bit funny.

For a minute, there's quiet. Then he shifts just a little.

"For the record, I love you too." He murmurs. He presses his face into my chest and breathes out slowly, head nudging under my chin. "So much." He's basically asleep now and it's all just turning to mumbles, but it makes me smile all the same, listening to him saying so much, so much until it fades into nothing.

I let my gaze wander over to his face. His eyes are shut, he can't see me looking. I can still see the faint tear trails and the crinkles at his eyes and lips that remind me of the smile just present. I can see the dewy glow of his skin and the pinkness of his cheeks, expression slack in the half conscious.

I know now that my thoughts from last night were the right ones. I know that I want to be with him forever, want to spend the rest of my life with this man who means so much. I want to give the world to him. Maybe one day we'll have a home together, we just have to find the courage to take the world back.

"I know you do." I say quietly, breathing in the scent of him mixed with the night air. "But it still means the world to hear it."

~~~

We sleep for a few hours, long enough that the air only warms more.

By the time I'm awake again, there's sun slanting into my eyes and my legs feel like clouds, my bones and muscles aching. It has to be just before noon by now, I can smell the campfire smoke of people's fires as they make breakfast.

"Food." Phil mumbles the second he's awake which makes me laugh, though I'm wincing the minute I stand up. He smiles at me apologetically and we're already threading our fingers together before we've even emerged from the woods, the walk feeling far shorter when it feels like I'm walking on clouds.

I can't even imagine how disheveled we must look, dressed in lopsided hoodies after falling asleep in the woods. My jeans are wrinkled and Phil's hair is wavy, but there really isn't anything we can do about it. Swimming in the river probably messed it up too but I had to sit still as Phil plucked several leaves from my hair when we woke up. Considering they all think we spent the duration of the night in our tents, it would have been hard to explain.

Nobody seems suspicious when we make it to breakfast, though we pointedly avoid Jack, searching for a place to sit with our bowls of stew until we end up finding Harley again, moving to sit down with her and starting up a pleasant conversation. I haven't seen Mark, Chris or Felix yet so we just eat and talk cheerfully, my hand seemingly fixed to Phil's and nobody saying a word about it because somehow this has become our natural.

It's like a dream period, the last few moments where everything seems right. We're talking about the old days and Harley is in the middle of a story about marching band, demonstrating a drumline piece with hers and Phil's spoons. Considering it's a rounded bit of plastic and not a drumstick this demonstration is fairly impressive, holding my attention and making me laugh before I feel a tap on my shoulder, catching me by surprise.

I turn around in confusion to see Michael of all people, his hands fidgeting nervously at the nerves presumably of talking to us alone. I don't see his father or brother anywhere, reminding me suddenly that I have to say goodbye to all of them, but before I can even speak he looks at me with wide eyes, his black hair falling into his eyes though he ignores it completely.

"Dan." He pleads, grabbing my arm before I can even ask what's wrong, because something definitely is. "You have to help me, my dad-"

I hadn't expected him to get sentimental about leaving us, though I liked him a lot despite his reservedness. He reminded me of myself before Phil, and I realize that he too doesn't want to go.

"You'll be back eventually." Phil assures him, drifting out of the conversation to input on ours. I feel bad that the boys' lives are getting caught in so much of an upheaval they didn't ask for, stressful beyond anything they've probably dealt with before.

Michael's eyes go wide and he shakes his head, and that's when I realize somethings's wrong.

"No." He says frantically, making us all stop at once as I hear the panic I hadn't heard initially in his tone. "It's my dad, he's gone crazy."

My heart drops in my chest and I think about how weird Earring had been acting last night, insisting that they needed to go with the weak excuse of keeping his kids safe, when he'd put them in worse dangers than sitting back at camp before.

"What happened?" Phil exclaims. I'm already standing up.

I'm alarmed to see the boy has tears in his eyes, unable to contain it now that it's crashing down.

"He took Jamie and then he didn't come back. My uncle and I went to check on him and we saw that he had our truck. When he saw my uncle coming he pulled out a gun and yelled at him. I don't know where he got it- and then I ran away-"

I don't even stop to hear the rest of it. All three of us, Phil, Harley and I included get up and follow him, running in a panic and leaving everything behind.

It only takes a minute to reach the truck but that minute feels far too long. It's too convenient for everything suspicious form last night, too fitting to the unease that's been sitting in my chest. It hits me suddenly that James is in danger, all of us bursting through the woods and into the patch of brush leading to the road, concealing is but making the highway visible to our eyes.

Sure enough, the black smuggler truck is parked on the road, here instead of miles away where we left it when it should be impossible. I see James stood by himself next to the open door, but no sign of anyone else. His cheeks are stained with tears and I want to rush out and gather him in my arms, to protect him, but I can't. We don't know where the danger is hidden.

I'm about to call out, to alert James to us anyway because his brother is half-hysterical, when suddenly a man steps out from the side door and yanks the child by the arm, making my heart drop when I see James protest and look to the vehicle in confusion.

At first my mind registers that the merciless face is Earring, that there's a panicked voice coming from his brother inside the car. He's protesting, I can't tell what he's saying but he sounds terrifying, pleading for the man to see and asking what the hell is going on.

And then, I see the gun.

His hand not holding the boy is clutching a black pistol, aimed inside the vehicle presumably towards whoever' driving.

"Holy shit." I breathe.

Michale gasps out a sob and Harley throws her arms around him, stifling the pain in his voice that makes me realize Earring never intended for all of them to leave and go elsewhere. Something is wrong, the man has lied.

I can't understand it- it's like a warped puzzle, the man has taken James but not Michael and has a gun pointed at his brother, forcing him to drive somewhere probably without wanting any of us to know. He never intended for us to say goodbye, it was why our other friends looked surprised when they heard he was going to go.

How could I have not seen this coming? How could the man's demeanour have changed so dramatically and I thought nothing of it? I don't know, but the atmosphere is frantic.

"What do we do?" Phil exclaims, hands fumbling around with the obvious reason being that he left his axe behind.

"We're not letting them take him!" I say desperately, and twist my hands anxiously as time runs out. I want to make us visible to James so he knows we're here but we can't risk him calling out. My mind is racing with fear and anger and absolute panic, because there can't be too many reasons as to why this is happening.

It's the confederation. This has something to do with the confederation and I don't even give a shit what. James could be hurt, he could be killed or worse, and though nothing has actually been said, I'm almost positive it has to do with us. It's the only thing that would cause the man to act like this.

"I have a stupid idea." I whisper, and I see Harley's expression go serious, see the understanding in Phil's eyes.

"Are you sure?" He asks quietly, speaking for both of them.

I nod. If we don't do something, nobody will. We don't have enough time.

He doesn't question me any further, just looks ahead with apprehension in his expression. It's like it's settled over all of us what has to be done, and after a few heartbeats of silence, he turns to Harley.

"If we don't come back, you'll tell them what happened, right?" He doesn't need any pretence, there isn't space to make a plan. This is right now, a time to act on impulse or risk the death of a child.

She nods.

"Look after Micheal." I tell her, "and tell Mark where we went."

Micheal is fully crying now and I hear the engine rev, telling us we have almost no time. My heart is thudding against my chest.

Harley promises she will and suddenly reaches into her pocket, slipping out a gun and from a holster and handing it to me. Her look is meaningful and I know she feels the danger, know she has our back.

I take it, gripping it hard and glaring at the truck, a determination filling me that eclipses my fear.

"Don't even look at the truck." Harley says quickly. "Focus on getting over the tailgate and I'll give you a sign when it's safe to run. Please be careful. I'll tell Mark the second you're gone."

"Stay with me." Phil whispers, and I nod. I wouldn't let it happen any other way anyways.

I look at him, squeezing his hand gently before letting go and staring ahead. "Always."

It only takes seconds to get stationed. I think about James and my heart surges, the two of us stepping out into the open. None of them have seen us yet, but I doubt it'll stay that way for long.

The truck is idling and I see Harley give the signal. I take a deep breath, and then I run.

dead inside by muse plays in the distance

this chapter kicked me in the ass!1!

I've been working back to back six hours shifts for weeks because my work changed owners and that's how my new boss does things. This update comes on the tail end of me working for four days in a row, I've had zero time to do anything and it's been bad. Thank you for coming back!!

My writing time and my sanity have suffered, and I've missed y'all like hell holy moly. YAY NIGHT IS ALIVE

*edit* WHEN THE FUC DID THIS HIT 8K UHHHH WTF I LOVE YOU AND YOU AND YOU im gonna go scream now bye

Me rn cause I love u^
~Aly🌙

(I love Dan right now too holy shit have you seen Trying to Live my Truth? God I'm so proud.)

This chapter is dedicated to BLfangirl765 and her comment back in the day ;) love you