art by catearphanatic my tumblr art senpai who has somehow started reading this? Idk life is surreal man

Hating my past, I found the old me
Bullet proof vest, my only clothing
-Oliver Riot, Alcatraz

Marzia

It's only when I'm about three quarters of the way up the ladder that I realize I didn't think this through.

Dan's keeping a respectful distance away from me, climbing with careful steps and balancing his dinner plate in one hand. He gives a small start as I stop mid-climb, but the expression only lasts for a moment before he's rearranged his face back into an emotionless wall. I can't figure him out. It's like he doesn't want anyone to ever see what he's thinking, and this makes him somewhat difficult to communicate with. I give him a reassuring smile that he probably can't really see in the moonlight, and I might as well have not for all the response I get. I frown slightly and resume climbing, this time with my eyes on the wooden platform.

We built the platform back when we'd first found the clearing for this camp. Mark, Felix, and PJ were all hard at work building the barrier as quickly as they could by neatly stacking the mounds of junk lying everywhere, this place having once been some sort of junkyard or something. 

I was the one who first noticed the rock wall, grown over with moss and supporting a sizeable stack of wooden boards. We'd had trouble in the past with being caught off guard, people or zombies taking over, it was the reason we were forced to move around so much. So in my mind, this was perfect.

By sundown that night we'd dug out a wooden ladder from the debris and used it to climb to the top, laying planks on the elevated surface and fastening them together with rope and nails, naming it "the watchtower." It's only about eight feet square in either direction and it gets a bit cold when there's wind, but it's high up in the air and gives a spectacular view of the surrounding woods. If there's any chance of intruders, it's highly likely that one of us will spot them from here.

We'll be taking the watch for most of the night. Whoever takes the shift typically stays until the moon is touching the tips of the trees, for lack of a clock it's how our group chooses to measure time's passing.

I've only known Dan for a few hours. In this time I haven't learned much, I've mostly gone completely off my own judgement. Normally I try never to do that, but I just don't know with him. The way Phil looks at him you'd have thought he'd hung all of the stars, but all I've seen is a young boy with what seems like the weight of the entire world on his shoulders.

He's only spoken directly to me twice; once just now to volunteer to do watch, and once earlier when he'd surprised even himself I think by offering up a piece of his and Phil's life. I feel like he keeps the best parts of himself hidden away, and I wonder vaguely if Phil knows all of them. I understand that feeling, though, I understand it completely.

I think back to my conversation with Felix after the pair had finally walked a safe distance away, far enough away from where he and I were conversing quietly by the fire that we could discuss the day's events. He'd lowered his voice so Cat didn't overhear, muttering under his breath right next to my ear.

"What's with that Dan guy? I can't tell if trusts us or hates us. Way to go, Mark. He's probably contemplating killing us in our sleep now."

I remember I sighed, not too sure of that question myself.

"I think we just need to watch him," I whispered back quickly, glancing over at where Cat was poking at the fire. "He probably doesn't trust any people at all, and it's not like we trust him. I don't know."

"Marzia," he breathed quietly, pressing his shoulder against mine and dropping his voice even more than he had already. "I don't know if you got anything out of watching them but I cant help but wonder," he said quietly, his tone serious. "Do you think him and Phil-I mean, do they seem kind of...you know...to you?"

The question didn't entirely surprise me, I have to admit I wondered some about that after I saw how much Phil seemed to need to stay near to Dan even given the circumstances we'd put them in. But I just shook my head, glancing up to look at them, gathering blankets in the darkness of the overhang. Dan looked tense, and I wondered if the fight had gotten to him more than he'd let on. "Don't ask them about it." I decided, looking at him purposefully. "Not yet."

Back in the present, my hands grasp the last rung and I heave myself upwards, my hands sprawling across the rough grain of the platform. The stars look absolutely brilliant, and I can't help the smile that crosses my face as I shuffle completely onto it, moving to the very edge and letting my legs dangle over the side. I breathe in the cool, fresh air and brush aside some hair that's been caught by the breeze, letting the moonlight wash over me. Behind me Dan slowly clambers up too, settling himself down awkwardly about three feet back, and I don't look back at him but I know he's there, probably sitting cross-legged and stiff, the way he did down by the fire. For a while we just sit in silence, alone in our own thoughts. We let the forest sounds do the talking for us, neither really sure of what to say.

I can tell he's not comfortable but he'd probably sooner sit in dead silence this whole time than speak up first, so initially I try to respect that.

Eventually though, I start to feel the tiniest bit shifty, wanting to engage him somehow so this isn't just long hours of nothing. I don't want him to regret volunteering to help me, and he just seems so...unhappy.  There has to be a way to get to him. I did it by accident once, surely with my mind to it I can do it again.

What do I want to know about him? Maybe I should try looking at him first, to let him know I want to pay attention to him. I wonder when the last time somebody approached him in this way was. He's only received aggression from Mark, his passive personality playing on my friend's short temper. I wonder how many people have backed away early, giving up because he didn't make it easy. I resolve to try harder than that.

I steady myself with one hand and crane my neck to view him in the moonlight. In the dark his features are blurrier, softer, the angry lines not visible and the dark irises of his eyes wide and alert. It strikes me that he has very kind eyes, round with a thick cluster of lashes, too gentle to be full of such anger and stress. He's looking down at his plate and hasn't noticed my gaze yet, and I enjoy the notion that I'm seeing him in such a vulnerable, unconscious way. For the first time since I've met him I fully appreciate our difference in age; he must be almost but not yet twenty whereas I've left my teens years ago. I soften as I imagine what a kid like him must have been through to get this way. He's seen a lot.

"Hey," I venture and he looks up coolly, his gaze making me shy even though I have no reason to be. Eye contact allows me to see look at him properly for the first time and I notice several things; the faint freckles on the bridge of his nose, the way his curls all seem to fall to the left, the way he sits with his hands folded. Everything about him looks soft, making me quietly wonder to myself if Phil has ever taken advantage of that.

The silence stretches on a bit and he raises his eyebrows, wondering what the hell I'm doing, probably.

"How's the food?" I ask, knowing it's kind of lame but thinking I need to begin somewhere. "I don't know if this kind of stuff's your thing, I like to think I can cook a good bird, though."

His eyes drift down to the meal again and then back to me. He takes a long time to answer even this simple question, thinking each word over slowly.

"It's good, thanks." He says quietly, looking at his hands. "It's been a while since I've had anything hot."

Okay, it's a start. At least he's answering me. I'm not sure what I would do if he didn't.

I sit still and quiet again as he continues to eat, only the sound of his breathing and chewing indicating there's anyone there at all. Ten minutes, then fifteen pass, until he's all out of food and has just gone completely silent, until I pluck up the nerve to try again, shifting back to meet his eyes.

"It's gonna be a long night. Let me know if you need anything." I continue, my gaze flitting back too the moon as looking directly at him gets too awkward.

"Look, it's fine if you don't talk to me." he says suddenly, "I know I'm not exactly well-liked around here, don't waste your time."

His abrupt and somewhat downcast response catches me totally off-guard, effectively killing the conversation right as it's begun. It's a little discouraging but I have an idea of where it comes from, he's obviously used to an unwelcome reaction from people and is shifting to a default, cutting off the interaction before it grows into anything that could lead to rejection or worse, acceptance. His eyes have drifted over to the treeline and his head is tilted down and to the side, hugging his knees in an unaware effort to make himself seem smaller. He's trying to tuck himself out of the way, I realize, make himself unnoticeable. But I'm not about to give up on him and I keep at it, much to his annoyance.

"I was going to ask if you wanted to come sit by the edge, actually." I continue, my tone a little too friendly but I figure I'll take what I can get. He looks quizzical so I hurry on, desperate to make this work. " I know it's nice sitting in the middle like that but it's really cool to sit freely like this, it's like you're floating in space or something and looking down at the valley." He shakes his head slowly, actually backing up a bit as if to emphasize his discomfort.

"Plus," I add quickly, somewhat expecting this to be challenging, "I want to tell you more about the parts of our group that don't suck. There's much more to us than guns and a red dyed haired angry Mark, and I'd like to tell you some stuff you could share with Phil."

It's the name of his friend, I think, that finally gets his attention. He sighs and puts down his now-empty dinner plate, straightening his back and fully focusing on me, with not much expression in the gaze.

"I don't want to sit near you. We aren't friends, okay?" he says firmly, making sound less of a question and more a command. "Just so you know."

I roll my eyes and half-smile, shuffling over to provide as much sitting room as physically possible, far much more than he'll need. "Absolutely." I agree, "Just come sit, and make sure you let your feet hang down. I swear you'll enjoy it once you do it."

He makes his way over slowly, dubiously, slouching down a decent distance away from me but surprisingly closer than what I thought he'd do, which is settle down at the very opposite end. "I don't enjoy much of anything." he mutters, but even so his feet swing down, and now I can see both of our pairs of sneakers hovering above the brush and treetops. I ignore this last comment and let there be a few seconds of comfortable silence, before beginning to speak carefully once again.

"Our group happened because Felix almost shot PJ and Mark when we were still in Brighton." I tell him, starting off with an explanation of sorts. "We'd run into a dead-end alley and they leaped out at us thinking we were zombies, and I swear the shot at Mark that Felix fired missed him by like half a centimeter. Truly a miracle."

Dan huffs quietly at my launching into a story, but he's making the effort to be listening and fiddles impulsively with his hands. I see Phil wandering out of the circle of firelight and off into the distance, ducking under the hanging branches of the big willow tree. They must have put their bedding under there, I realize, and I quickly think of my own friends who must be settling into bed right now, dinner over. I also think of Mark, who stormed off hours ago and hasn't returned. He's done it before when he's gotten really mad and has proven he knows how to come back alive every time, but it makes me nervous all the same. I risk a quick glance and see Dan is now looking over at the willow too, but I try not to read into it. He probably wishes now that he were there instead of here, but we're in too deep now. I look away.

"You would never have thought that would be a way to make two new friends, but that's how it happened." I continue, bringing him back to my story. "I think we looked each other in the eye for like ten solid seconds before everyone burst out laughing. We were all terrified, there was this moment of 'woah that was close!' and then it was just silently agreed that we'd all become allies." I remember that day all right. We picked up Mark and Peej and then booked it out of the city, dodging monsters left, right, and center. It was the day I ruined my favourite dress, and the day Felix learned that I knew how to fire a gun.

"You guys really like your guns, don't you?" he asks flatly and I nod, feeling one brushed up against me right now where it sits in my pocket. "We weren't gun people before, at least not me and Felix." I tell him quietly, thinking about the truth in this statement and the reality that's attached. "The apocalypse changed us into different people, I think. I don't think Felix even knew I was capable of fighting, he used to make fun of me because I was so girly."

He turns to look at me after I say this, the emotionless facade dropped temporarily to express genuine interest.

"Girly?" he asks, confusion evident in his tone.

I shrug my shoulders, not sure quite how to explain. "You know, the way anyone would consider someone girly. I was under a lot of pressure as a kid to keep up this pretty little lady aesthetic, it's part of the whole born-and-raised-as-an-upperclass-italian thing. I wore dresses and pastel pinks and mastered perfect makeup before I turned twelve. Trying to fit in with the other girls, I had to be quiet and do what I was told. I was always treated as delicate, dainty, and it pissed me off because no one took me seriously, ever. Not even Felix, though I hate to say that. Even now I still catch him trying to dominate over everything I do, trying to protect me, or do things for me, because he thinks I'm too pretty or too delicate to handle it."

He frowns in disbelief at this, taking in my dirty jeans and my vest and sweater, my tangled hair falling over my shoulder in messy coppery waves. "I don't believe that." He states outright, looking almost offended for me in a way. "You made it pretty clear you can handle yourself fine back at the farmhouse. Kept us in line anyway, and nobody can do that. You even got Felix to make Mark take the gun off Phil, didn't you?" He inquires, and my eyes widen, not realizing he'd ever been aware of that.

"I...well yeah, I did" I answer honestly, surprised he even noticed when his situation at that moment had been such a mess.

"I know he's your friend and everything but I don't want him near us for any reason" He says bluntly, bitterness heavy in his voice. "The next person who threatens to shoot Phil I'll kill personally."

I nod appreciatively which surprises him, but he regains his composure quickly.

"You two must be pretty close," I say as unassumingly as I can, wanting to know more about them but not wanting to scare him off, not when he's still so tentatively replying to me.

"You could say that." he says simply, though I sense I've touched on one of the few things he's actually comfortable talking about. I wait for him to elaborate but he doesn't, so I plow on, deciding I have nothing to lose by confiding to him.

"It's weird that you can see these things about me instantly, that I'm more than just a pretty faced skinny girl with a coincidental ownership of a gun. You talk like you believe I can handle myself, when my own boyfriend doesn't even see that."

He shrugs his shoulders, like this should be obvious. "I know a capable person when I see one. And I'm actually all right at reading people, people just don't like me." he replies. He doesn't even sound upset when he says it, his tone is casual, like this is just the way it is and he's well aware.

"I can tell you're pretty tough, " I admit to him, voicing my opinion now that it's existed this long. "Nothing scares you, does it? I don't think I could ever stand up for myself the way I've seen you do, you're what, twenty? And you held your own against Mark, put him right in his place in my opinion. Incredible."

He looks over at me with an entirely new expression on his face, considering me in a contemplative way.

"Nineteen," he says softly, the gentle tone so incredibly out of place coming out of his mouth. "And well, there's a couple things. I'm not heartless. It's not a nice world out there."

I consider this, surprised there's actually something that Dan is afraid of. I bet he has no intention of admitting any of it to someone he still doesn't really know, but I like being able to talk to him despite how rough he is. He accepted the real me without question and doesn't scoff at my confidences, just considers them in his thoughtful, quiet way. How is he only nineteen? He has an older soul than anyone I've ever seen, and I wonder what he thinks about when he's all alone. He's fascinating, so unlike anyone I've met before.

"It's not," I agree quietly, and neither of us need to specify why. We both know. Who doesn't?

"We'll leave it at that I think." he states with finality. "I don't have to explain why."

"This might seem out of the blue," I say suddenly, a thought entering my mind. "But what do you think you'd do if you didn't have Phil? Would you join up with other people? Or would you just work by yourself?" he frowns at the question and I'm worried I've crossed a line, but he just shakes his head, dismissing the inquisition instantly.

"I wouldn't have to think about doing either," he says instantly, words firm and convinced. "Because that would never happen."

"But how can you be so sure?" I press him, amazed he's that optimistic. Who knew?

He's quiet, so I carry on hurriedly.

"That's my biggest fear, that I'll somehow be separated from my friends or one of them will die." I admit, feeling fearful even just saying this aloud. "It scares me more than anything else, I feel so liable for each and every one of them, even though there's times where there's nothing I can do."

"I'm sure," he says irritably, somewhat annoyed at my sentimentality. "He's all I have. I wouldn't be alive if not for him, nor would I want to be. It's just not going to happen."

It would almost have seemed sweet, what he'd just told me in such an irritable, offhand way, if not for the ominous attachment that came on the heels of the statement. He doesn't want to live without Phil, doesn't plan on it. As long as that boy is breathing he'll keep going, without him- well, he's not going to let it come to that.

"Oh." I manage to get out, stunned.

"You know it's interesting," he mutters, "It's been so long since someone's been genuinely interested in who I am. Most people see the anger and the tired face and decide that's all there is, that's what they go off of. You seem like you actually...care?"

My heart beats a little bit quicker when he asks this, scarcely believing that he's said it. I'm getting to know him even though he's reluctant, bit by bit, and I feel a surge of warmth towards him at this minute expression of appreciation.

"I could say the same for you," I answer, raising my eyebrows to assure him I'm telling the truth. "you aren't speaking to me all sweet and formal, the way practically everyone in my life does. And to tell you the truth, I think you're pretty interesting. In a good way. I feel like there's more to you than your face, you know? I'm sure there is."

He chuckles quietly, not sounding humorous but more resigned. "I'm not interesting." He says, a somewhat discouraging statement, there's just so much going on with him. "I think part of the fascination attributes to me just being a shitty person, I don't speak sweetly to anybody. But I can tell that you're a strong willed person. You've lived this long, just like us. I'm not nice to begin with, but I know when someone deserves respect and when they don't. I can differentiate."

He respects me. Just this knowledge alone helps keep me brave enough to keep talking to him. My mind is already racing as I think about how I'll be able to tell Felix that Dan is in fact human after all, and maybe pick on him for being less able to see my independence than an emotionless man I've just met. We'll see.

"How can you call yourself a shitty person?" I ask incredulously, unsure of how anyone could describe themselves so lowly in such a factual way. "You're so brave and loyal and passionate about keeping your friends safe. Do you think Mark cares about us like that? How can you be a bad person when you're a teenager who puts others' lives before his own?"

He turns his head away from me, letting out an annoyed breath. "I'm just not, okay?" he snaps coldly, frowning angrily out at the dark spread of woods below. "I'm not someone anybody wants to keep around. I'm a liability."

He frowns darkly and kicks his legs out just to channel the frustration,  gazing out at the tree line where the edge of the white farmhouse's rood is just barely visible.

"You want to know how all those zombies found us in town?" He asks. "It's because I found a piano in one of the houses. A goddamn piano. I used to play all the time when I was younger and I got so excited that I had to play it then too. I played Phil's favourite song that I knew on there, Moonlight Sonata, and it was as if for one moment something nice was actually existing on this hell of an earth. Maybe I didn't have to feel so bad about enjoying the little things in life you know, because it was such a nice distraction and Phil looked like I'd handed him the damn stars or something. Cut to a few minutes later, we open the front door and the porch is overrun with zombies. It was all my fault. I try not to let myself get too happy, I don't think I'm allowed to. Every time I do, shit like that happens. So no more."

My eyes widen in shock at this revelation. Suddenly all of Mark and Felix's suspicions about them staking out our camp to take us out and steal our things seems so incredibly ridiculous.

I feel a deep wave of shame as I remember how Mark had shouted these thoughts so boldly at them all, blaming the near death of both our parties on Dan. It must be eating away at Dan horribly right now, his self esteem already so low, the last thing he needed was to be told he was only a danger to his friends and if they died it would be his fault. No wonder he hates us- he has every right to. I want to tell him he's wrong, explain to him that Phil's prolonged stares and Cat's protectiveness over them proves that they love him and need him.

My resolve hardens and suddenly I'm determined, placing a hand on his shoulder so abruptly he jumps, jerking away from my touch to deter me. I look right at him, no longer feeling intimidated by his flat stare.

"Never let some asshole or any amount of stupid words stop you from letting yourself feel happy." I say forcefully, making his eyes widen in shock. "Maybe it doesn't mean much to you, but I can think of one person off the top of my head who thinks extremely highly of you. I know you must feel like your friends only keep you around out of pity, don't you?" I ask him, and he nods fiercely, not even attempting a smile.

"Yes." he says stubbornly. "I do."

"No!" I say loudly, and he looks incredulous, wondering where my quiet voice went, probably. I don't even care if I wake up Felix, it can always be explained to him later. Meanwhile, I'm going to let Dan know he's worth something, if only to see him allow himself to feel again.

"I don't know if I should really be saying this," I continue hurriedly, the words rushing from my mouth with an urgency, "But I just- you should see the way Phil looks at you! Every time you're stressed or distracted he's looking at you. He doesn't care about anything else. You mean the world to him, even I see it and Felix was telling me that too. You look inseparable, I'll bet you anything he feels that way, and if someone like him thinks of you that highly then maybe you should be thinking it too."

He shakes his head. "Okay, but I-"

"I can promise you one thing, he doesn't think you're a liability." I cut in. I don't venture any further, knowing it's a bit of a heavy sentence and I don't want to voice any other implications. I don't care what they are to each other all of a sudden. Who cares? Is it really any of my business?

"Phil..." he says slowly, quietly, but the fire is gone from his words, he mostly just seems a bit stunned. ".. he always sees the best in people. He couldn't make an enemy if he tried. he's too nice. It doesn't make me any more special."

"But it does!" I insist, throwing my hands up to emphasize my point. "Because it's not just him. I see it too. I'm learning pretty quickly that seeing the best in people teaches you a lot about them, and just because that's what he chooses to see, it doesn't change the fact that it's still a part of who you are. Are you saying that you don't think Phil knows what how to make a proper judgement?" I ask, and he gapes a little as the realization hits him.

"No, I- of course I trust his judgement! I just... does he really look at me that often?" his voice is completely soft now, and I wonder wildly if he's really been this oblivious the whole time. It's adorable, kind of. He sounds so softened by the idea of being seen by Phil.

"Yes, Dan." I confirm with a light laugh, perplexed by the expression on his face. Is he surprised? Delighted? Uncomfortable? I honestly can't tell, fully appreciating just how good he is at concealing his emotions.

"He's such a mum," he says dazedly, but there's no hiding the definite note of affection in his words now. He shakes his head abruptly, snapping it to the side to clear it as if hes just been hit with a bucket of water. How did Phil do it? What is it about him that got through when no one else did?

We sit in sated silence for a moment, both lost in our own thoughts before our eyes meet and we realize we've gone silent.

"What about you, Marzia?" he asks suddenly, changing the subject. "What makes you happy? Surely there's hobbies you had and stuff like that, before the apocalypse, especially if you lived in Brighton. What do you like to do when you're not capturing people? And don't say wearing pastels, I'll know you're lying."

I laugh at the sudden interest, pleasantly surprised also that he's just made a joke. This is such a huge step forward from an hour ago, when he'd been too angry to even break the silence. I'm seeing the real side of Dan, despite his reluctance. This is the one Phil loves, and on a minute degree it's starting to make sense.

"I know I don't look it," I answer with a grin, "but I'm actually a huge internet nerd. Or at least, you know, I was."

He nods approvingly and stares, waiting for me to go on.

"It's like there's two sides to me, this girly side that loves the idea of nice clothes and perfect makeup, trips into cute cafes and bakeries and long nights watching romantic comedies and stuff. But then there's this other side, the one that's obsessed with being expressive online and loves axolotls and is fascinated by the night sky. If there's one good thing that's come out of life on the run, it's that I always get to sleep under the stars. There were lots of shops and good bakeries in Brighton, but more often than not you could never see stars. They're incredible out here, very good for whiling away a particularly quiet watch. Oh, and of course I love Felix. I'm so glad we met, I've been so much happier since I've had him. Makes life worth living."

"I... well, I have to admit, for a lot of that, I feel like I can relate to what you're talking about. I had no idea you were so complex." He admits, and I let out a huff of laughter, nudging him in a friendly way.

"Well, I happen to know that you are, so that makes one of us." I joke, and this time he half-smiles, revealing a deep dimple in his cheek that I've never noticed before.

Then suddenly we're talking, on and on, totally comfortable where before it was awkward and that's all. And as I come to know Dan, I realize how very little any of us knew at all.

His name is Daniel James Howell and he's six feet tall, afraid of moths and the dark and a strong non-believer in the supernatural. Unless, of course it comes to zombies. We all know where we stand on that, they're more common than people now. He has a strong affinity for the colour black and he used to go to Manchester United University, before the world ended and they just never went back. I learn that we both like dumb indie games and think there's so much more to the night sky than the moon and the stars, and that we're all so insignificant in an infinite universe. I learn that he wasn't very likeable in his childhood either, his internet friend Phil the first best friend he'd ever had in his life, after eighteen years without one. I learn that he loves to be hugged, but hates seeking or accepting affection from people.

"Most people would have to pry that admittance out of my cold, dead fingers." He tells me in reference to the latter fact. I just shake my head.

I learn that he and Phil both love dogs and that they were in a car crash together, wrecking Phil's only mode of transportation when they struck a zombie. Cat, despite her name, isn't that fond of cats. And lots of other facts, the information and topics varying depending on what topic we're on.  He doesn't ever talk at length about himself, I just take key information from the short responses he gives me. He likes deep conversations and talking about his friends, doesn't like to discuss relationships.

I was right, he is fascinating. He's brilliant; imaginative and creative, highly intelligent with an articulate vocabulary. I find that I can't stop talking to him, telling him things about myself that nobody but Felix has ever bothered to listen to. And what's more is that he listens, responding with parts of himself or with a considerate comment. Hours fly by and I realize suddenly that we're almost done our shift, and the gate to the camp has swished open.

"Who's that?!" Dan asks quietly, looking unnerved at the prospect of a trespasser. I place a hand on my gun and crawl carefully over to the the other side of the platform, my hand resting firmly on the ladder. The figure of a man is making his way in, shutting the gate carefully and quietly, much more cautiously than the way he'd opened it. I strain to see any defining details in the darkness, wondering if I should shoot him.

The man steps his way over twigs and patches of grass, heading toward the rock cliff without waking anybody. He makes his way out from beneath the tree canopy and I finally catch a glimpse of physical features; a flash of red and black hair, making me relax visibly. But then I almost immediately re-tense, realizing this won't be pleasant for Dan.

"It's Mark," I say quietly, looking back at him to see what he'll do to react to this. "He's back."

He just sighs, looking tired, and lets out a quiet "ah."

"He's probably coming up to join me on watch, it's our night after all. I can tell him we're good if you want. I don't want you to have to deal with him."

He shakes his head quickly, knowing as well as I do that Mark would not handle it well if he realized he was being rejected from his duty to be replaced by Dan. But I've only just gotten to know him, and I'm worried I'll never get another one-on-one opportunity with Dan after this. It's nice, getting to talk to him at such length and so in-depth, I don't want it to be over.

"Nah, I'll just go to bed." he says quickly. "I'm not gonna get in between Mark and his obligations, especially when he's coming back after needing to calm down from a mood that I put him in. I'll talk to you tomorrow." He turns around quickly and starts to make his way towards the ladder, when one last idea crosses my mind and I call out hurriedly before he can scurry away.

"Dan!"

He freezes, turning his head slowly as his hand closes on the object. "Yeah?"

"Thanks, you know. For talking. And listening to me." I say, and he just stares, surprised. "You're all right, you know that? This was good. Have a good night, I'll see you tomorrow."

He's quiet for a second, and he looks away, breaking the eye contact. "Remember," he says irritably, his voice low and serious. "We aren't friends. Just so you know. Not friends."

My heart sinks and I can't hide the frown that spreads across my face, disappointed after thinking I'd actually felt closer to him. He starts to climb out onto the ladder, his face looking down at where he's stepping. Then he snaps his head back up and grins at me, a real, actual smile with just a shade of teasing and I gasp. He looks so beautiful when he smiles, his eyes crinkling slightly and his teeth visible. Friendliness suits him better than I ever would have imagined.

He laughs loudly, causing me to snort too, hardly believing it's real.

"I hate you!" I exclaim, and he raises eyebrows, a cheeky expression very evident.

"Or maybe we are." he quips, smirking. "You'll never know. See you later, Marzia. Thanks for making me remember a bunch of repressed memories, it wasn't too bad."

Then he's gone from view, and I'm alone on the platform, with just the wind whistling and waving the leaves of the trees and the moon glowing a pale yellow overhead.

I sigh, still in disbelief that these last few hours actually happened. A few minutes pass and then Mark clambers his way up, greeting me with a grumpy flick of his hand and settling several feet away, clearly not quite out of the mood he was in before. I take a deep breath and look out at the valley, seeing Dan out of the corner of my eye lifting the branches of the willow and ducking under to where his bed is waiting.

The rest of the night awaits and I wonder if maybe I'll ask Mark if he maybe can't give Dan a second chance. We have lots of time, and I suddenly feel like there's a lot I'm capable of doing. All my friend wants right now is silence and I respect that, my mind buzzing enough for both of us.

So I don't say anything yet,  I just look up at the stars and wonder if I'll ever see them the same way again. Now that I know someone else shares my fascination. You just never know with people, the ones who seem so broken and quiet have the loudest minds and most sensitive souls. The ones who seem so pretty have the saddest stories. Dan didn't seem like someone I would want to be friends with when I watched him this morning, but now that I know why he seems so bitter I want to tell everyone the truth because he's so much more than the person that no one will give a chance.

I want him to be able to show appreciation, I want him to tell long articulate stories about the deep meaning he finds in the most mundane of things. I realize there's only one other person besides me that sees him for what he is, who knows he's capable of love and possesses no shortage of passions. I think I'd like to talk to Phil, I think. He'd know exactly what I'm talking about.

Who better to get to know Dan with, than with the one person who knows him best. I keep this in mind as the night wears on and the moon starts to sink in the sky, smiling to myself even though it's too dark for anyone to see.