#au phanfic

Marcus had a rather silly sense of humor and Kathleen found herself laughing several times almost against her will. Her own parents and grandparents had always been fairly serious, some of them also quite religious, and she herself had found that her husband George brought a welcome lightness to her life that she had never realized she needed until after she’d met him. She’d never noticed that humor was lacking from her life until she found it in George.

Nodding while chewing, Marcus gestured with his fork as if asking her to wait for him to speak. After he’d swallowed, he commented, “Uncle Dan often said the same thing about Uncle Phil. Though Uncle Dan had his own sense of humor, you know. Just not as … obvious as Uncle Phil’s. Uncle Phil was a little … unusual. He got a bit more eccentric with age, but Uncle Dan just always laughed and said he’d never known someone could make him so happy.” Marcus smiled and added, “I know Uncle Phil felt the same way, even though he didn’t say it as often, in front of other people anyway.”

Kathleen was curious. “Uncle Phil didn’t…”

Shaking his head, Marcus explained immediately, “He loved Uncle Dan with his whole heart. He just expressed himself more by reaching out to hold his hand, or to touch his shoulder. Uncle Phil was a very … private person. They both were. I don’t think anyone outside the family really knew they were in love. And even with us, Uncle Phil still loved … quietly. No less deeply, but less openly. Uncle Dan was more open with his emotions.”

Kathleen laughed. “Well, he didn’t get that from the rest of the family!”

“That the impression I always got,” Marcus admitted, with a less jovial tone.

Kathleen looked down at her biryani and took another contemplative bite.

******

While Marcus went to look for some sign of his great-uncle’s mementos among the jumble of belongings in a particularly disorganized closet, Kathleen continued working her way through Uncle Dan’s shoebox of memories.

There were a great many devoted love letters over the next few years, as both men had apparently served much of the length of the war. Kathleen began to feel a bit uncomfortable with this voyeuristic look at intimate words that had not been meant for anyone but the two men, but she continued to read, not wanting to miss any of the other information about their lives. Not when this was the only way she could know them.

There were even some worried, loving letters from Kathryn Lester, Phil’s mother, and it was one of these that made Kathleen stop with her hand pressed to her trembling lips.

-

2 July 1944

My dear boy,

The Red Cross located our address among your things and wrote to tell us that you have been injured and that you must spend some significant time recovering from a serious leg wound. Why did you not write to us yourself? Surely you know how much we care for you, how I, in particular, fret for your safety just as I worry for my own sons. In fact, you are truly one of my sons, and I demand that you come to me immediately so that I may nurse you myself, rather than leaving such an intimate task to strangers who do not love you as we do.

I beseech you to come home to us, dearest, and let us help you become whole again.

With the greatest affection, Kathryn Lester, whom I hope you will call Mother

-

Kathleen looked up from the letter in her hands when she heard Marcus’s footsteps. “Uncle Dan … he was seriously wounded in World War II?”

Marcus dusted himself off as if he’d been excavating an archaeological site rather than simply going through two old men’s junk closet. He sat down at the table with her and reached out a friendly hand. Kathleen set the letter down on the table and took Marcus’s hand, squeezing tightly.

“Why didn’t he come home?”

Marcus gave her hand a returning squeeze and said gently, “He did.”

Kathleen nodded in sad understanding. “Did they even … did he …” She cleared her throat and let go of Marcus’s hand with a grateful pat. “Did they even contact his parents first?”

“I’m not sure,” Marcus admitted. “No one ever talked about it, and I got the impression it was a difficult topic. I don’t know if he even had any ‘next of kin’ officially listed in his records. It might have just been chance that they found our family’s contact information with his things.”

He patted her hand gently and said, “I’m going to continue sorting through the closet. I’m gathering a pile of things to be thrown out, a pile of things to go to charity, and a smaller pile of things we can look through together when you’re done with the letters.”

Kathleen nodded wordlessly and carefully folded the letter, returning it to its envelope. Knowing he was giving her space to recover her composure, she gave him a watery smile and then returned her attention to the shoebox as he walked away.

-

15 August 1944

My true and only love,

Mother has written to me that you have been wounded and are to convalesce with her at our home. I wish with all my heart that I could race to your side to offer you whatever solace my presence might afford, but you know that my duty will not allow it. I trust that Mother will tend to you as lovingly as I myself would, for she knows how dear you are to me. Also, you must know by now how much my family esteems and cares for you for your own sake, and not only for mine. How could they not love you? How could anyone not?

I will return to you as soon as may be, and we shall be together once more and never again parted.

Most devotedly and forever yours, Philip

-

8 May 1945

My dearest love,

I write this letter in haste, for today victory has been declared in Europe and the War is truly over! My regiment leaves forthwith and my heart soars with the knowledge that I shall soon hold you in my arms again. If only I could fly directly to your side on eagle’s wings! But for now I must arrange my pack for our imminent departure for home. Home! You are my only true home, and I now return to you with the happiest, most grateful of hearts. I race against this letter to you and hope that I may be upon the doorstep even before its arrival.

Await me, dearest. I come to you!

In loving and most joyous haste, Yours always, Philip

-

Kathleen imagined the scene. Dan, perhaps in a wheelchair, sitting in front of the family home—which she imagined as being quite grand—when a car pulled up and that tall, slim young man emerged, still in his handsome uniform, his hair slicked back beneath his cap. She imagined their eyes meeting for the first time in years, years during which each had feared not only for his own life in battle but also for the life of the other. She imagined the smiles dawning on both their faces as Phil walked slowly toward the man he loved, and then more quickly until they were in each other’s arms. She wondered if they had wept.

She thought they probably had.

******

When she heard Marcus returning to the kitchen, Kathleen was sitting with her chin in her hand, gazing out the window at the garden.

“Is everything all right?” he asked with some apparent concern.

She turned to look at him and smiled softly. “I just read the letter when Philip was returning home, and I couldn’t help imagining how happy they must have been to see each other again after so long. It made me think of my own husband, how much I would miss him if we were apart for years, never knowing if we would see each other again.” She felt a bit choked up, but it wasn’t sadness she felt. “I’m so glad they made it back to each other safely.”

“They did,” Marcus affirmed.

She turned to look up at him and leaned to stretch her aching back. “I’m dead on my feet. These last few letters have left me wrung out like wet laundry, and I just want to go home and see my family. Would you mind if we leave the rest until tomorrow? Or later, if tomorrow doesn’t work for you.”

“I can come tomorrow in the evening,” Marcus replied. “Feel free to look through their other things if you finish with the letters before I arrive.”

Kathleen nodded, tidying up the papers on the table before sliding her bag onto her shoulder and saying goodbye to Marcus. She just wanted to get home to feel her husband’s arms around her.

******

20 March 2001

There weren’t any significant letters after that in the box, which made sense when Kathleen thought about it. Why would they need to write letters if they were always together? She found the deed to this house, bought in August of 1945, along with numerous birthday and holiday cards from various family members and, sadly, a black-bordered piece of elegant parchment announcing a commemorative gathering to celebrate the life of Kathryn Eleanor Lester.

The box also contained a great number of children’s drawings and scribbled household notes. One sticky note, the adhesive having long lost its ability to stick, said simply, “Don’t forget.” Kathleen wondered what the note had referred to and what had made it important enough to keep, but soon discovered that Uncle Dan had apparently kept a great many seemingly mundane notes and reminders written in Phil’s distinctive handwriting. Even grocery lists had apparently seemed important enough to save, if they were written by a beloved hand. Kathleen smiled at her great-uncle’s apparent sentimentality.

She also found a number of thank-you cards for gifts they’d given jointly, along with a few letters asking one or the other of them to be godfather to a child, some from members of the Lester family and some from names she did not recognize.

When Marcus arrived in the evening, she was still going through the shoebox, since she’d been with her children until late afternoon.

“You said they were very introverted and private,” she said to Marcus, forgetting to even greet him, so lost in thought was she.

Marcus nodded, “Oh, they were. Not very fond of crowds, those two.”

Kathleen gestured at the shoebox. “Then how did so many people care about them so deeply? It is obvious that a lot of people loved them very much.”

He smiled. “They just had that effect on people.”

Kathleen found herself once again wishing that she’d gotten the chance to know them both.

“I have a confession to make,” Marcus said hesitantly. “When I found Uncle Dan … he had something in his hands, and I took it. I was afraid that his family might … well … might throw it away … or otherwise not respect Uncle Dan’s wishes. When he knew he didn’t have much time left, he told me he wished to be buried with it.”

Kathleen gazed at Marcus with somber curiosity. What was this object that was so important to her great-uncle? “What did you take?” she asked, doing her best to make sure that no accusation sounded in her words.

Marcus reached into his bag and pulled out a battered, dirty envelope. He held it in his own hands for a moment before reluctantly handing it to Kathleen. She carefully opened the envelope and pulled out a yellowed piece of paper, smooth and worn from years of frequent handling. It was a letter in the familiar handwriting. Before she began reading, Marcus explained quietly, “He took it with him everywhere. It went with him to the war, and it went with him to the army hospital, and it never left his side for decades. I did not want his family to see it as … shameful … I did not want them to discard it as so much rubbish.” Kathleen nodded seriously and turned her eyes to the letter.

-

11 August 1939

My most beloved Daniel,

I do love you. I love you most ardently, and these feelings are not new. I, too, have gazed at you with longing in my heart and wished that I might hold you close, but I did not believe you would welcome such attentions, and so I hid my emotions as best I could.

I hide them no longer. I do love you. I love you with every beat of my heart, every breath of my lungs.

I love you. I love you. I love you. Never doubt it.

Most devotedly yours, Philip

-

Kathleen wiped tears from her eyes and cheeks, then glanced around in search of a tissue. In the end, she went into the kitchen and blew her nose inelegantly on a piece of kitchen roll. She came back to the dining room table and looked Marcus in the eye. “I absolutely promise that this will be buried with him,” she choked out with conviction. “If Grandpa Howell gives me any problems about it, I will tell him he’ll never see me or his great-grandchildren again. Uncle Dan will be buried with this letter. I swear it.”

Marcus nodded gratefully, eyeing the letter in her hands with obvious reluctance to part with something so important and personal.

Kathleen held it out to him. “Would you like to keep it. Perhaps … bring it to the funeral yourself?”

His face melancholy, he replied, “I don’t think I would be welcome there. We’ll hold our own service for their … their other family, and for their friends. That letter belongs to your uncle, and so you should keep it. Just … please do make sure that he has it close to his heart in death as he did so long in life.”

“He will,” Kathleen promised, tucking the letter carefully into her bag. “I’m almost done with the shoebox, so I can come help you with the rest soon. Any sign of a box of mementos belonging to your uncle?”

“Not yet,” Marcus admitted. “The open areas are all quite tidy, but the closets are another story altogether. Uncle Dan cared a great deal about what he called ‘aesthetics,’ so I’m guessing he was in charge of the attractively tidy main areas. Perhaps Uncle Phil took care of the closets.” He and Kathleen both laughed.

Kathleen gestured at the nearly empty shoebox and asked, “Mind if I finish up here before joining you in your more adventurous task?” Marcus just grinned and nodded, then headed back down the hallway.

Only a few papers remained, and Kathleen suddenly realized that she’d been reading the papers in chronological order. If items had been placed in the box as time went by, shouldn’t the most recent letters and papers have been on the top?

Then, she pictured her great-uncle sitting at this table where she’d found the shoebox, pictured his wrinkled hands carefully removing each precious memory from the box and reliving them one by one before returning everything to the box again, now in reverse order. So these last few papers would have been the most recent ones, giving her a glimpse into the man she had so narrowly missed getting to meet. If only she had known…

Nothing really caught her eye, mostly just more household notes and a letter or two from friends whose names she didn’t recognize, until she caught sight of a sticky note recent enough that it still adhered to the paper beneath it. “Don’t forget Kathleen’s birthday!” it read in that familiar handwriting.

Kathleen’s birthday had been only two months ago, and the thought that this man, this amazing Philip Lester, had known of her existence, had even known the date of her birthday and had cared enough about her that he did not want her forgotten … she burst into tears, sobbing more than she had at any other item in the box.

Philip Lester, the man she might once have been able to call Uncle Phil, had known her and loved her without ever even meeting her. He had probably known her children’s birthdays as well, had probably wished a thousand times that he could sign his name alongside Dan’s when cards were sent to her and her family.

She didn’t know how long she sat there, weeping quietly with her face in her hands, until she heard Marcus come back into the room and hesitate in the doorway. She quickly dried her face as best she could and turned to smile at him.

“You said that you would be holding a service for Uncle Dan yourselves?”

Marcus nodded. “A service for the both of them, really. We didn’t want to upset Uncle Dan with a service for Uncle Phil when he was so … broken. We were waiting for the right time.” He smiled sadly. “It seems like the right time now.”

“Would you…” Kathleen hesitated, not wanting to be presumptuous. “Do you think anyone would mind a few gate-crashers?”

Marcus tilted his head in confusion. “Gate-crashers?”

Kathleen cleared her throat and forged ahead. “If we would be welcome … I mean, if it wouldn’t seem inappropriate … do you think anyone would mind if my family and I came to the service? Just my husband and my children and me.”

Marcus looked stunned. “You would want to do that?”

Kathleen gestured down at the papers in front of her. “Well, I feel like I know them a bit now, you know? And … well … love them a bit, too, even if I was never lucky enough to meet them.” She hesitated. “It may be too late for that now, I may have missed my chance … but it isn’t too late for me, and my children, to get to know the family we never knew we had.”

Marcus shifted slightly, standing up a bit straighter. “I think we would all like that very much,” he said stiffly, as if holding in strong emotion. “Very much indeed.”

Kathleen carefully placed the letters back into the shoebox and replaced the lid, letting her hand rest reverently upon it. “If you’re sure we would be welcome…”

Phil sat on the sofa, not talking to anyone, with a paper plate of cake on his lap. It was white cake. Who likes white cake? Why did David buy white cake for Phil’s birthday? Didn’t he know Phil at all? They’d been flatmates for three years, but David bought him white cake. Didn’t he know red velvet was Phil’s favorite? Did he even care? David had taken the big rectangular white cake out of a Tesco box with a discount price tag on it, and it tasted a little stale.

David was hogging all the attention, too, telling some funny story that had everyone laughing, all gathered around him. No one noticed Phil, even though the party was supposed to celebrate his thirtieth birthday. A milestone, right? Thirty. It was a big deal. But Phil just sat there alone on the sofa. David had invited mostly his own friends, anyway. Phil didn’t have that many friends. Not enough to make a party, just maybe enough to go to a nice dinner or something, which was more Phil’s type of thing. He didn’t really like parties. He tended to hover in the corner near the snack table.

Everyone was enjoying David’s stories so much that no one even noticed when Phil got up and set his paper plate on the side table, grabbed his warmest coat, walked quietly to the front door of the flat, and left. Just got up and walked away from his own birthday party.

A few minutes later, he brushed some snow off a bench and sat down in the little park across the street from the flat. Well, not really a park, just a bit of greenery in the middle of their London neighborhood. He’d always liked snow, but tonight it didn’t make him happy like it usually did. He just sat on the snowy bench under a street lamp, shoulders hunched against the cold, hands shoved into his coat pockets to keep them warm.

—

It was just too much. Watching him suffer like that … it was too much.

—

A pair of black boots appeared in the snow some distance from where Phil was sitting. The boots had zips. He liked zips. Not Phil. Him. He liked black, and he liked zips. Zips on everything, even when they weren’t necessary. Unconventional, unnecessary zips. He didn’t wear them often, because he wasn’t often in a human body, but he enjoyed them. When humans invented zips, they’d really been onto something.

His coat had zips too. A black coat, of course. He watched Phil from afar, just sitting on that bench and staring at the ground, and then he started walking toward him. Two paper cups of coffee appeared in his hands. When he got to the bench, he offered one of the cups to Phil, who startled slightly, looking up into his face. “Sorry. I didn’t notice you there,” Phil said, then looked in confusion at the cup of coffee being offered.

“You looked cold. I thought you might like a cup of coffee.”

Thoughtfully, Phil first brushed the snow off the rest of the bench before taking the proffered cup. “Thank you. You can sit if you like.” Phil took a sip of the coffee he’d been given, and his eyebrows went up. “Exactly the way I like it!” He gazed in surprise at the man sitting beside him. “How did you know?”

“You just looked like a cream and sugar kind of guy.” They smiled at each other.

“I can’t believe I was so rude. You gave me coffee and I didn’t even introduce myself. I’m Phil,” he said, holding out his hand with a guileless expression. They shook hands.

“Call me Dan.” They both sipped from their cups. Well, Phil sipped—Dan just let the liquid touch his lip and felt its warmth.

“It’s nice to meet you, Dan. And thank you very much for the coffee!”

“You’re welcome. I had to give you something for your birthday, didn’t I?”

Phil jumped, nearly falling off the bench, and turned to stare. “How did you know it’s my birthday?”

“Thirty, too. That’s a big one. Shouldn’t you be at some kind of party or something?”

Abruptly, Phil seemed to forget all about the mystery of how the stranger knew it was his birthday, and he just deflated. “Well, the party wasn’t that great, so I left.”

“That’s what you get for living with a dick of a flatmate.”

Phil really did fall off the bench this time, landing right on his butt in the snow. He didn’t even get up, just sat staring with his mouth hanging open, apparently unable to even find words. Eventually, he found his tongue. “Who … who are you? How do you know all of this?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

Sitting there in the snow and staring up at a mysterious stranger, Phil set his jaw. “Try me,” he challenged.

“I’m your guardian angel.”

Phil frowned. Slowly, deep in thought, he picked himself up and dusted snow off his backside. “Okay,” Phil breathed. “There’s a lot to unpack there. But, first things first … guardian angels are real … and mine is named Dan? It’s not a very impressive, angel-type name, like Raphael or Galadriel.”

“You do realize that Galadriel is a character in The Lord of the Rings, don’t you?” Dan asked, amused.

“Of course I do!” Phil exclaimed in frustration. “I’ve seen the entire trilogy five times! But how does an angel know about The Lord of the Rings?”

Dan rolled his eyes. “Who do you think was watching over you all five times you sat through that entire trilogy? And thank, you, by the way, for only making me watch The Hobbit once. Who the fuck thought it was a good idea to turn a very short book into three excruciatingly long movies?”

They both shook their heads in disappointed disapproval. “I’m sorry I even put you through that at all,” Phil admitted. Then he stared at Dan in shock. “You said ‘fuck’! Angels say ‘fuck’? And how did you know about the book?” Then he smacked himself in the forehead. “Because you were there when I read it when I was a kid.”

“Nah. I only got assigned to you seven or eight years ago. You should have heard the previous guy complain! All about how he could barely keep you from walking off cliffs or lighting yourself on fire.”

Phil scowled. “Angels complain about me? You know, I’ve heard some insults before, but that one goes to the top of the list.”

Dan waved a hand dismissively. “Puriel is as big of a dick as your flatmate.”

“There’s an angel named Puriel? Sounds like a hand sanitizer.”

Dan actually laughed so hard that this time it was he who nearly fell off the bench. When he got control of himself, he gave Phil a long look. “You’re taking all of this much more calmly than I expected.”

Phil looked contemplative for a moment, then he said, “Well, why not? I mean, blobfish are weird as heck, and they’re real. So why not angels? I feel kind of flattered that I have a guardian angel.”

“Everybody’s got one.”

“Oh.” Phil blinked. “Well, I still think it seems nice, knowing that somebody’s been watching out for me.”

“Yeah, Puriel might be a dick, but you definitely do require a lot of attention. I thought the thing about lighting yourself on fire was a joke, but what the hell made you think you should operate the stove with your fucking foot?”

“Hey, that turned out fine!” Phil replied defensively. “Nothing caught on fire…”

Dan stared at him silently. And waited. And waited.

And waited.

“Oh,” Dan saw when Phil finally got it. “That was because of you?” Dan nodded. “Oh … well, thanks, I guess.”

“You’re welcome,” Dan chuckled.

“But there’s a question you still haven’t answered,” Phil insisted. Dan shrugged, welcoming whatever Phil wanted to ask. “My guardian angel is named Dan? It just seems sort of … boring. Not very fancy, as far as angel names go.”

“You want Puriel back?” Dan quipped. Phil laughed. “To be honest, our real names aren’t in a human language, so we just use these names as a sort of convenience when we actually need to have a conversation with a human, which doesn’t happen as often as you’d think. So I usually go by Daniel, but we’ve been hanging out together for years now, even if you didn’t know it … so I figured you could call me Dan.”

Phil held his hand out again and said, “Well, now that I know who you really are, it’s nice to finally meet you, Dan. And thanks for all the help you’ve apparently been giving me behind the scenes.” They shook hands warmly. “But, hey, why did you let that squirrel bite me? And…”

Dan held up his hands. “No way you’re pinning every bad thing that ever happened to you on me. First of all, I can’t control living creatures, so if you try to pet a goose, that goose has every right to bite you in the butt.” Phil tried to interrupt, but Dan kept talking. “But I also can’t fix everything. If you’re going to try to kill yourself every five seconds, I can only catch you 99 times out of 100. And I think those are pretty good odds. So every time you’ve tripped or knocked something over or fallen down the stairs or something … just imagine if I hadn’t been there to catch you the other 99 times.”

Phil tilted his head in confusion. “But I thought you couldn’t control living creatures, so how could you keep me from falling down the stairs?”

Dan grinned. “I can’t control you, but I can make the handrail suddenly sort of magnetic so that it draws your hand to it. Or I can shift the weight of whatever’s in the bag you’re carrying. Or I can make the step rise up to meet your foot…”

“You can do all that?” Phil marveled, gazing at Dan in wonder.

Dan shrugged modestly and buffed his fingernails against his coat, making Phil laugh again.

They sat there in silence for a little while—Phil just staring at Dan in wonder—when suddenly snow started falling softly around them. Phil held up a hand and smiled. “It’s snowing again. For my birthday.”

Dan just smiled at him.

“Is that you? Are you making it snow?” Dan shrugged again, but gave a mischievous smirk. Phil stood up and stared up at the sky with his arms spread wide. “Well, if you’re making it snow for my birthday, thank you, because I love the snow.”

“Yeah, I know,” Dan replied softly, watching Phil’s blissful expression as he gazed upward and let the snowflakes fall on his face. He looked like what most people would expect an angel to look like. Dan looked down at his black clothes with their random zips, then back at Phil with his arms wide and blissful expression. The contrast couldn’t have been more stark.

Phil began to twirl very slowly, still gazing upward, arms still extended. “You’re going to trip over something,” Dan warned him.

“I have a guardian angel watching out for me,” Phil replied with a little laugh.

Dan just watched Phil enjoy the falling snow for a while before offering another warning. “You’re going to end up drenched, you know. All that snow is melting as soon as it hits the warmth of your body, and it’s just turning to water. It’s like you’re standing in the rain.”

“Standing in the rain is good, too,” Phil said. “But snow is better. I don’t mind it melting. Watching it fall is just the best thing ever.”

After a few more minutes of watching Phil gaze up at the snow, even trying to catch snowflakes on his tongue once or twice, Dan reluctantly admitted, “You may be a pain in the ass to keep alive and safe, but you’re better at this than most people."

"Better at what?" Phil looked down from the sky to see Dan’s face.

"Living.”

Phil frowned. “How can somebody be better at living?”

Dan tried to think of how to explain. “You appreciate things more, like the snow. You smile more than most people, and you make other people smile. You love more, including all creatures, not just humans ... even plants! You reach out and try to offer love where you can. You're kind. You sing more often than most people. You laugh a lot, including at yourself, which most people can't do so well. You try new things instead of always staying with what's safe, and you don't mind if you fail. You do what makes you happy even if it isn't what everyone else is doing. You create beautiful things that no one else could have thought of. You're sensitive to how others are feeling and actively increase the happiness of the other people around you. You're just ... you're better at it. You're a better human than most. You're just ... better at living. You're good at it." He ended this long speech with a slight feeling of embarrassment. He didn’t usually give compliments. He didn’t usually talk much at all, actually. But he’d been watching Phil for a while now, and he’d noticed things.

Phil stared at him in apparent awe, his eyes wide, but he didn’t say anything in response. Dan wondered if he’d been struck dumb by a random string of compliments from a grumpy, black-clad guardian angel … and figured that was actually probably the case. “Come on,” Dan grumbled. “You’re getting soaked. Let’s get you into the coffee shop around the corner to dry off.” He took Phil’s arm and dragged him along, since Phil still seemed dazed.

“I’m better at living?” Phil whispered to him as they walked.

“Forget I said anything,” Dan said gruffly, increasingly embarrassed by his outpouring of emotion.

Phil smiled and seemed a bit less dazed. “I’m good at it. An angel said I’m good at it,” he murmured to himself in wonder.

“I said forget it!” Dan rumbled threateningly.

“No,” Phil said firmly. “I never will. Not my whole life. I will never forget it. Sometimes I really doubt myself … so … so thank you for saying it.”

Dan shrugged uncomfortably and opened the door of the coffee shop, practically shoving Phil inside ahead of him.

—

The coffee shop was deliciously warm after their time in the snow, but it caused the last remaining snowflakes to melt immediately. Water dripped along Dan’s scalp, but he was lucky enough to be wearing a scarf that caught most of the moisture before it could touch his neck.

Phil, however, gave a visible shudder as melted snow practically streamed from his soaking wet hair onto his bare skin. “Do you have a towel from the kitchen?” Dan brusquely asked the startled-looking girl behind the counter. “Or even just a bunch of paper napkins?” She ducked into the back room and emerged with a tea towel which she timidly offered. Dan snatched it from her hand and began vigorously rubbing Phil’s wet hair as Phil tried to bat him away.

Eventually, satisfied that Phil’s hair would at least no longer actually drip water, Dan gave his own hair a quick rub, then offered the wet tea towel back to the barista with an apologetic smile. He knew the dimples this human face had would charm most people into forgiving him almost any bad behavior. “I’m sorry I was so rude when we first came in. It’s freezing out there, and we’d gotten quite a bit of snow on us.”

The barista flushed and returned his smile, taking the tea towel from him. “Let me just put this in the back, and I’ll come take your order. Why don’t you take off your coats and things? It’s nice and toasty in here.” Dan and Phil took her advice and hung their outerwear on the provided rack. Phil rubbed his hands together, then ran his hands up and down his arms to stimulate the blood flow.

“Go on,” Dan told him, looking around at the empty room. “Go sit at the table by the window. I’ll order us some more coffee to warm us up.” He knew Phil would like to watch the snow from the window table, and Phil did indeed smile as he gazed out at the winter wonderland.

When the barista returned, Dan placed their order at the counter before going to join Phil at the table. “Warming up?” he asked. Phil nodded happily. The coffee shop was warm enough that their hair was already drying.

Phil had rested his elbow on the table, his chin in his hand, and was gazing out the window. “It’s so beautiful,” he said dreamily. “I love snow. And I must admit it’s nice to watch it from someplace cozy.” He looked at Dan. “I loved standing in it, too, though. Thank you for that.”

Dan rolled his eyes and said, “I already told you you’re welcome. You don’t have to keep thanking me.”

“But what if I want to keep thanking you?” Phil asked impishly. “Thank you thank you thank you!”

Dan sighed heavily, trying to indicate the extreme patience he was showing in the face of Phil’s ridiculousness. He then said, slowly and firmly, “You. Are. Fucking. Welcome. Now shut the fuck up about it.”

Phil gazed at him curiously. “Do all angels swear as much as you do?”

Dan threw his head back in frustration, then raised it up again to look at Phil. “Would you rather have Puriel back? Get your hands all nice and sanitized?”

Phil laughed, then shrugged. “It was a legitimate question. I mean, you do swear a lot.”

“That’s just me,” Dan replied with a huff. “I’m not the sweet and sugary type. Sorry if that offends your delicate sensibilities.”

“I don’t mind,” Phil said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I like you just the way you are.” He smiled at Dan, and Dan felt a strange kind of fluttery nausea in his human stomach.

“Well, that’s good,” Dan said. “I don’t plan on handing the job off to anyone else, so you’re stuck with me. I don’t know why Puriel complained so much. You’re not that bad.”

Phil grinned. “Even if I do try to light myself on fire by working the stove with my feet?”

Dan laughed. “Even then. You just … keep me on my toes, you might say.”

They both giggled like schoolchildren as the barista approached the table. “The coffee will be ready in a minute, but … he said today was your birthday…” and she placed a red-frosted cupcake on the table, a single burning candle standing on top.

Phil sobered immediately. “For me?” he asked with wide eyes, looking between Dan and the barista and back again.

“For you,” Dan affirmed, then urged Phil, “You have to blow out the candle!”

Phil blew out the candle, then thanked the barista, who just smiled at him and walked away.

“Well,” Dan said impatiently before Phil could thank him again. “Go ahead and eat it!”

“Do you want to share?” Phil asked.

“It’s your birthday. It’s not a proper birthday cake, but it’ll have to do. Now go on!”

“The other cake, the one at the party, it didn’t even have any candles,” Phil said sadly as he began to peel the wrapper off the cupcake. And then he suddenly looked up at Dan with wide eyes. “Is this…” he looked at the revealed cupcake again. “Is this red velvet?”

Dan grinned. “I guess you’ll have to taste it and find out.”

Phil took a big bite of the cupcake and his eyes rolled back in ecstasy. “It is red velvet,” he moaned almost completely unintelligibly with his mouth still full. He swallowed and asked, “How did you know red velvet was my favorite?”

Dan just gave him that look again.

“Oh, right,” Phil giggled, then took another bite. He visibly savored it, then swallowed again. “Are you sure you don’t want a bite?” he asked Dan. Phil was always like that, preferring to share anything he found particularly wonderful, instead of wanting to hoard it for himself. It was one of the things Dan had always found especially admirable about him. Something he’d always found especially endearing. One of the things that had made Dan care about him so much and not mind the constant death-defying challenges.

He couldn’t understand how Puriel couldn’t love someone that generous and kind.

But Puriel was a dick who wouldn’t recognize a truly good person if they kicked him in the ass. Which a good person probably wouldn’t do, come to think of it. But Dan would.

The barista brought their two cups of coffee and showed them the sugar and small pitcher of milk sitting on the table, then told them to let her know if they needed anything else. Phil had his mouth full of cupcake, and Dan was afraid he might spew crumbs in his attempt to thank her, so Dan quickly said, “Thanks! I’m sure these will warm us up.” The barista turned to go, so all Phil did was nod vigorously, keeping his mouth closed as he chewed.

Dan sat, pretending to sip from his coffee, and simply watched Phil devour the cupcake with great relish while looking out the window at the snow. It was like watching happiness personified.

When he’d finally finished the cupcake and chased down most of the remaining crumbs with some coffee of his own, Phil toyed with the candle in his long, pale fingers. “Another year gone,” he said, sounding a little melancholy now.

Dan nodded. “Yup. Another year closer to your inevitable death and the probable doom of this entire universe.”

Phil blinked repeatedly. “You must be the weirdest angel ever.”

“Haven’t met many, have you?” Phil nodded at what was, obviously, a fair point. “There’s some weird ones, let me tell you.”

“But … my inevitable death? The doom of the entire universe?” Phil stared at him, still obviously thrown off balance.

Dan shrugged. “It’s the truth. Happy birthday!” He made ironic jazz hands. As intended, it made Phil laugh again.

“I don’t like to think of it that way,” Phil mused. “It’s more like … another year of working toward making my dreams come true. Maybe someday I’ll actually make it all happen.”

“I have faith in you,” Dan said, caught off guard by his own unintended honesty. At first, he didn’t understand why Phil started giggling, but then he caught on. “Oh, ha ha. Faith from an angel. I get it. It’s not that funny.”

“It is pretty funny,” Phil disagreed, “but thanks for the sentiment.”

Dan thought about the word. “Hmm. I don’t usually think of myself and sentiment having much relation to each other.”

“Maybe I bring out the best in you,” Phil joked with a sunny smile.

Dan tilted his head, giving the idea some consideration. “Well, it’s the case for a lot of other people, so why not me?” Phil looked confused. “You tend to bring out the best in people,” Dan explained.

“I do?” Phil seemed surprised.

Dan shook his head fondly at Phil’s utter incomprehension of his own effect on the world. “Yes, Phil, you do.”

Phil ducked his head, suddenly shy. “I think that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

Dan didn’t know what to say to that, so they both just sat there for a while. Phil went back to watching the snow falling outside the window as he sipped his coffee. Dan held his coffee mug in his hands and enjoyed the aroma while he watched Phil watch the snow. The coffee wasn’t so hot anymore, but the mug still felt good in his hands. It was nice to get to feel and smell things, one of the benefits of being in a human body.

“So what else would you like to do on your birthday? I gave you snow. What else?”

“Dogs!” Phil replied immediately, looking extremely excited.

“Um, no.” Dan sighed to show he was displaying the utmost patience. “I told you already. I don’t have any control over living creatures. You do understand that dogs are living creatures, right?” he asked sarcastically.

Phil huffed out a laugh. “Yeah. Well, I mean, the fun ones are.”

Dan burst into raucous laughter. “Oh my god! That was the best joke I’ve ever heard you make! We’ll make an edgelord out of you yet!” Phil Lester, making a joke about dead dogs. Dan never would have thought he’d see the day.

Phil frowned in confusion a moment, then suddenly waved his arms in horror, exclaiming, “That’s not what I meant! I meant like, as opposed to plushies! Not … what you were thinking.” He made the cutest little disgusted face.

“Okay, okay,” Dan said, calming down from his fit of amused hysteria. “Aside from living dogs, what would make you happy on your birthday?”

Phil made his funny face where his lips moved to the side, the face he made when he was really thinking about something. “I don’t know. Maybe … sparklers?”

“Sparklers?”

“Yeah,” Phil enthused, getting more excited by the idea as he explained it. “You know, like at Guy Fawkes. You hold the stick in your hand, and you light the other end, and it gives off sparks. Didn’t you ever watch over me on Bonfire Night, all those years?”

“Yes, of course, I know what sparklers are, you moron. I just … you want sparklers for your birthday?” Dan couldn’t believe it. He had almost infinite powers to give Phil whatever he wanted, and Phil wanted … sparklers?

“I like sparklers,” Phil sulked defensively, and took a big slurpy drink of his coffee, which must have gone disgustingly cold by now. He then proceeded to cross his arms and stare pointedly out at the snow, ignoring Dan, his feelings clearly hurt.

The snow stopped.

Phil snorted, annoyed. “You did that on purpose.”

“Well, obviously,” Dan replied. “Otherwise, the snow might put out the flames on the sparklers.”

—

Phil had always loved sparklers, always loved how they seemed to crackle with life and excitement, how they left trails of light behind them when you moved them through the air, but the sparklers Dan created were different.

“Here,” Dan said. “Let me light it for you.” And just as the sparkler had come out of nowhere, the flame seemed to light it with only a gesture from Dan’s hand. The sparks began to fly, and Phil gazed at the glittering, flickering light with fascination. It made that hissing, popping sound that was so familiar from all the Bonfire Nights of his childhood.

He swept the sparkler through the air, and it left a stream of light behind it, just as it always had, just as he’d always loved, but the sparkler Dan had made left a trail that lingered longer than  usual. Phil made loops and swirls, fascinated by the way the light remained in the sky for just a bit longer than he had seen before, long enough for him to create images. He drew a heart, then grinned at Dan. “Aren’t you going to do it, too?”

Dan lit a sparkler for himself and began drawing zigzags and rollercoasters of light. He wrote the name “Philip” in the sky, and then beamed at Phil.

“That’s the first time I’ve seen you smile like that,” Phil said with awe.

Dan looked at him in confusion, the smile falling from his face. “Smile like what?”

“Like … you were happy,” Phil explained. “All your other smiles, they seemed a little sad. But this time, you really just … you just looked happy.” He looked down at the snow. “I’m sorry I ruined it by bringing it up. As soon as I said anything about it, it was gone.”

“It’s not gone,” Dan said quietly, honestly, feeling a soft smile return to his face as he gazed at Phil. “It’s still here.”

Phil returned the smile with a tender one of his own, and then turned to write “Daniel” in the sky with a flourish. Then he drew a happy face afterward and turned to grin at Dan.

Dan snickered and drew an angry face with a “v” over the eyes as furious eyebrows. But Phil just laughed and drew loops around the unhappy face until suddenly Dan saw that it was a series of gracefully shaped hearts. Something inside him stirred again, and he pressed his free hand to his chest to hold it there, that feeling.

And suddenly he knew what it was.

He didn’t want to admit it—it was against all the rules—but it was true. And he wasn’t going to lie.

Not giving himself a chance to hesitate, he turned and wrote with his sparkler, “I love you,” against the darkness of the sky. He kept staring at the trail of glowing words until they had faded completely back into darkness.

He couldn’t look at Phil.

Dan might have been developing these feelings over years of watching and knowing him, but Phil had only met him tonight. To Phil, he was a virtual stranger. There was no way Phil could understand or return his feelings. And yet he hadn’t been able to hold it in, hadn’t been able to hide it, not from Phil. And so he’d written those words in light, and their effect would endure inside him forever, even though their illumination had faded from the night.

He couldn’t look at Phil. Couldn’t stand to see his expression. The pity.

He felt a warmth, a presence by his side, and he knew it was him, it was Phil, but Dan just couldn’t look up, the sparkler still absurdly in his hand, unmoving after writing those damning words in the sky.

But Phil moved to stand in front of him, close, so close, so warm and perfect and everything Dan hadn’t known he wanted, because he wasn’t allowed to want it, wasn’t supposed to want it, and finally Dan hesitantly raised his head to see an exquisitely gentle expression on Phil’s face.

“I love you, too,” Phil whispered, but the quiet words rang in Dan’s ears like a clarion bell. Words he’d never expected to hear, never never never, and then Phil leaned forward and pressed his lips to Dan’s and everything else disappeared. Dan’s entire world was those soft lips against his in a kiss that was everything he’d wanted, everything he wasn’t supposed to have, everything he’d dreamed of, and he realized now that he’d been wanting it for years, that he’d fallen in love with Phil long ago. Phil with his sunshine smile and his kindness and his love for the world. Phil who was like nothing Dan had ever seen before. Phil who was kissing him, kissing him, there in the snowy darkness with sparklers crackling in their hands. He finally began to register all this as Phil slowly, lingeringly pulled away and looked into Dan’s eyes.

Dan didn’t know what Phil saw there, but he knew what he saw in Phil’s eyes, and it was sweet and gentle and fierce all at once. “I love you, too,” Phil repeated. “I know it doesn’t make any sense. I know I only met you a few hours ago. But … I feel like I’ve known you for years. Maybe because you’ve been there for years, and somehow some part of me knew that and felt you there. I can’t explain it, but it’s true.” He raised a chilly hand to Dan’s cheek, where it warmed quickly against his skin. “I feel connected to you like I’ve never felt with anyone else. When you sat beside me on that bench, it was like finding another part of myself.”

Suddenly, Phil lowered his hand and looked away, biting his lip. “Does that sound stupid? You just … you wrote that with the sparkler … and then I just … maybe you didn’t even mean it. You were just messing around…”

Dan stopped those stupid words, pressing forward for another kiss, this time a little less gentle, and he let his sparkler fall to the snowy ground, where it hissed and spat before the flame died out. He wrapped his arms around Phil’s waist in his thick winter coat and pulled him nearer, wanting him as near as possible, wanting nothing more than Phil in this entire universe and beyond. He heard another hissing sound as Phil’s sparkler dropped beside his own, and then felt Phil’s arms around his neck as Phil tilted his head slightly to deepen the kiss, and it was heaven. Dan had never been to any heaven as an angel, only taken orders like a good foot soldier in the supernatural bureaucracy, only watched over people on earth as they lived and loved in ways he never thought he could ever experience, but now he felt what he thought all those people had meant when they said something felt like heaven, because this was it.

When Phil finally pulled away—because Dan would never have pulled away, never never never, he would have continued kissing Phil until the end of time—they gazed at each other in the darkness. Without the sparklers, the night around them was lit only by the windows from the coffee shop a little distance away.

“I think I’ve been in love with you a long time,” Dan admitted hesitantly, looking into Phil’s eyes as they gleamed in the dim light. “I just didn’t know what it was, because I’d never felt that way before. I only knew that I cared what happened to you, a lot more than I’d ever cared about any of the other humans I’d protected. In hundreds of years of watching over people, I’d never felt this way. But until tonight … I didn’t know what it was.”

Phil slid his hands down from around Dan’s neck until he could entwine his fingers with Dan’s, both their hands linked together by their sides as they stood so close that their visible breaths mingled in the cold air.

“So what happens now?” Phil asked hesitantly.

And with that simple question, Phil shattered Dan’s heart and his world.

—

Dan had brushed the snow off the bench with the sleeve of his coat, and they both sat there under the streetlamp. Dan had pulled his feet up and wrapped his arms around his knees, clasping his hands and huddling there for warmth. This human body felt the cold. Not earlier, not when they played with the sparklers, when Phil smiled at him, when Phil stood close and they had … but now, now his body felt the cold.

He rested his cheek on his knees, face turned toward Phil, who sat on the bench beside him.

“So you’re just going to leave,” Phil said, his voice stiff and angry. “After all that, you’re just going to leave.”

“I’m not leaving, Phil. You know that. I’ll still be here.” Dan knew his words weren’t going to help, but he didn’t know anything that would, so all he could do was tell the truth.

Phil huffed out a sarcastic laugh. “Yeah, right. My invisible friend. And you don’t even seem to care. You’re just sitting there, like … like it doesn’t even matter.” Phil turned his back on Dan, looking toward the warmly lit coffee shop where they’d been so happy an hour ago.

“Of course it matters,” Dan rasped out. His throat felt choked, so he cleared it, but it didn’t help. Maybe it was a human thing. “It always matters. But I can’t stay. Even now, I’m breaking the rules, just by being here, by being with you.” Phil didn’t say anything, the line of his back rigid in the lamplight. “I shouldn’t take human form and interact with you in the human world at all. But … tonight, on this bench … you seemed so sad … so lonely … I couldn’t leave you here alone. And so I came again…”

“Again?” Phil almost roared, and the sound echoed in the quiet of the late night in the little park. Dan realized that he had underestimated how upset Phil was. No, not upset—angry. Hurt and angry. Because of Dan. The opposite of what he would ever have wanted. But soon that would all be erased … along with everything else. The thought brought Dan little comfort. Phil turned to look at him again, his face contorted with anguish, his voice quiet now, rigidly controlled. “You’ve been here before? Did I not see you … or did you look different…?”

“I’ve come twice before,” Dan admitted. “Only two times … times when you seemed most lonely and I couldn’t bear it anymore. I’d never taken human shape before with any of my charges, but twice before tonight I did, I came to you … but it wasn’t the same. I just … you needed to talk, needed someone to listen … needed to know that someone cared. And so I came, and I listened to you, and I let you know that I am always here, always with you, always caring … and it seemed to help. And then I erased your memories of my visit, but the comfort lingered and your smile returned … and I felt better, that I had helped you, even if you wouldn’t remember me. I would remember for both of us.” He sniffed, and told himself it was the cold, not oncoming tears, and said, “Just like I’ll remember for both of us this time, too.”

Dan, tightened his arms around his knees and turned his face as soon as he felt the tears begin to sting his eyes, turned his face away from Phil and rested his other cheek on his knees, looking away into the darkness beyond the street lamp.

“Wait a minute,” Phil said haltingly. “You’re going to erase my memories?” Dan didn’t reply, because he knew it wasn’t really a question, not after what he’d just said.

“This whole night?” Phil continued. “Everything? You’re going to wipe it all from my brain like none of it ever happened? Does it mean that little to you?” Phil sounded absolutely destroyed by the final few words, his voice shredded almost to nothing.

“I don’t have a choice,” Dan cried, still looking away, unable to look at Phil and see the expression on his face right now. “There are rules! I don’t get to just do whatever I want, Phil. I’m not like you! I’m a guardian angel, and we have rules we have to follow or the entire structure would collapse.”

After a long silence, Dan finally turned to look back at Phil, and he looked angrier than Dan had ever seen him before. An anger that roiled beneath the surface, while Phil’s face looked perfectly still. When their eyes met, Phil said slowly, carefully, “So why did you say you loved me? Why did you kiss me? Why did you do any of that, when all the time you were planning to take it back?”

Dan didn’t know what to say.

Phil nodded slowly, never breaking eye contact. “Just getting your jollies, huh?” Then he laughed with no humor in the sound. “Christmas was a month ago, you moron.” He froze, then said, “Hell, you could have been here, then, too, and I would never know it. You could just keep playing with my brain over and over again.” Dan could see his anger grow with every sentence now, with every word. “Did we ever have sex? Because I suppose it wouldn’t count as rape if I was willing at the time, but I’m not sure if you erased my memory of it afterward…”

Dan shouted, “Stop! I told you! I was only here those other two times, and all I did was listen. This was the first time I ever … I never even realized how I felt about you until tonight.”

“And so you thought you’d take advantage of that nifty memory erasure power…” Phil began, but Dan interrupted him.

“I didn’t plan any of this!” Dan sobbed, and tears were streaking down his face now, hot against the cold of his skin. “I just … it took me by surprise. I’d never felt this way, never … never sat in a cozy window seat with a handsome man I loved … never played. I was never a child, Phil, so I’d never played before, never laughed with a friend and felt a sparkler in my hand and swung it through the air.” He wiped at his cheeks then dropped his chin to his knees again. “I … I lost control, Phil. I’m sorry. I’m not supposed to have any of this. It’s against the rules, and this must be the reason, because I should never lose control like that. I’m sorry. I should have just … I should have just listened to you like I did before and then gone. Even that would have broken the rules, but it wouldn’t have been so selfish. I should never have let the rest of that happen. It was very wrong of me. I’m so sorry.” He closed his eyes, because he could feel more tears gathering, threatening to fall.

Phil’s voice was soft when he said, “You were never a child? And you think it was wrong to play?”

Dan opened his eyes, and he gazed at Phil through eyelashes covered in teardrops that glistened like crystals in the lamplight. As Dan looked at him, they framed Phil’s face like some kind of ironic halo. “I’m not human, Phil. I don’t have a life. I just have an eternity of watching from the outside, an eternity of guarding the human world, keeping people safe. That’s all I’ll ever have. Except … tonight.”

“You said you weren’t supposed to have any of this. I thought you meant love, kissing, all of that. But you mean the rest, too? Even just … even just the coffee? I noticed you only pretended to sip at yours. Was that why you wouldn’t take a bite of my cupcake? Because someone told you it wasn’t allowed?”

Dan sighed. Phil just didn’t understand. Dan gazed at him through the scattered stars of his own tears. “We don’t have anything for ourselves, Phil. We aren’t supposed to. We don’t get to have guardian angel parties, even with white cake, let alone red velvet cupcakes. We don’t have anything for ourselves. We only exist to serve. I only watch. I watch your Bonfire Nights, with the sparklers. I watch you walk through crowded streets and bump elbows with strangers and apologize to them because you’re always too nice. I watch you laugh with your family and friends, watch how you love them, how they smile at you with such affection. I watch you play video games and drink pumpkin spice lattes and take the Tube. I watch you curl up by warm fires with a blanket over your lap and a cup of hot chocolate. I watch you live a life, but I don’t live, Phil. I don’t get to have that. I was created to watch over you, to keep you safe, to make your life as healthy and happy as possible. And that’s what I do. It’s my place in the world. And I treasure it. I treasure my ability to help you, even though it is from afar. It’s my reason for existence.”

Neither of them said anything for a long beat, and then Dan whispered, “I don’t get to have a life, Phil. And, no matter what happened tonight, no matter how I feel about you, I can’t let you keep the memories, and I don’t get to stay. I just … can’t. I have no right. I just … I’m not human.”

This time the silence stretched on so long that Dan wondered if Phil was going to just get up and walk away. But then Phil asked, “So … if you don’t have guardian angel parties … does that mean you’ve never had a cupcake?”

Dan laughed on a sob. “No, Phil,” he laughed at the absurdity and his own grief. “I’ve never had a cupcake.” His cheeks were wet again now, the tears rapidly cooling in the wintery air.

And then suddenly his left wrist was grabbed forcefully, causing his other arm to fall loose and his legs to slide off the bench. He turned his head to gaze up at Phil, who stood beside him, holding Dan’s wrist in a tight grip. “Then come on,” Phil said in the most determined voice Dan had ever heard from him. “Because I’m buying you a fucking cupcake.”

Dan hadn’t heard Phil use that particular swear word often, aside from when he played video games, so he knew Phil was serious about this ridiculous idea. But this was neither the time nor the place. In fact, there was no time or place in which it would ever be appropriate for Phil Lester to buy him a fucking cupcake.

“Are you going to make me drag you there?” Phil asked through gritted teeth. “Because that might traumatize the girl who was so nice to us.”

Dan sighed. “Why would you want to buy me a cupcake, Phil? After everything I’ve just told you?”

“If you don’t get to stay…” Phil looked away and his throat worked for a moment before he continued. “If you don’t get to stay, if you have to go back to that, then I want to at least give you a cupcake to remember.”

“That sounds like a terrible Hallmark movie,” Dan laughed through his tears. “A Cupcake to Remember.”

—

The cupcake had come with three candles on it. Dan looked at Phil in question as the barista walked back behind the counter, well away from their window table.

“One candle for each time you’ve come to see me,” Phil explained with a grin. “Like your three birthdays.”

Dan would never understand how Phil could take such absolutely absurd situations and simply adjust to them, simply accept them and move on. Now he had accepted that Dan had been here before, and he didn’t hold on to any anger or recriminations. Instead, he just got Dan a cupcake with three candles.

Dan blew the candles out. Like he’d seen a million times. Like a real person having a real birthday.

“So what do you think?” Phil asked when Dan took the first bite, his voice eager as he watched Dan’s face.

A bit uncomfortable under the scrutiny—not accustomed to being the one observed—Dan chewed and swallowed, which in itself was an odd sensation. “It’s … interesting.”

“Just interesting?” Phil sounded disappointed. “It’s a red velvet cupcake! You don’t like it?”

Dan considered how to explain. “Well, to be honest, I’ve never eaten anything before, so I don’t really have anything to compare it to.” He took another bite. The cake felt spongey in his mouth, with a rather pleasing texture. He liked it better than the sweeter icing.

Phil’s jaw dropped, literally. The gaping mouth was not his most attractive look. “You’ve … you’ve never eaten anything before?”

Dan looked around, making sure the barista was not within hearing distance. “Phil … I’m not human. Guardian angels don’t eat. We just … watch. I just watch over you. I see you eat every day, see you enjoy food, but I don’t get to enjoy it myself. I’m glad when I see you enjoy it, though. I like to see you happy. If all I can do is watch, I like to watch you be happy.” He chuckled a bit to himself. “Food seems to make you very happy. Especially popcorn and sweets.” He took another bite of the cupcake. Eating really was a very strange experience.

Phil shook his head in wonder. “You really … wait! Here! Drink some of my coffee!” He pushed his mug into Dan’s hand. This time they hadn’t ordered two, just a coffee for Phil and the cupcake for Dan. Dan looked at Phil in confusion. “A cupcake is much better with coffee! And I’ll bet you’ve never drunk coffee before, either, even though I’ve seen you hold it in your hands.”

Obediently, not sure why he felt compelled to humor Phil’s whims, Dan took a sip of the coffee. It was warm and sweet and smooth in his mouth, and it washed cupcake crumbs with it as it flowed down his throat. He imagined he could even feel its warmth in his belly. He nodded to Phil. “It’s good.” He smiled.

In the end, the cupcake defeated him, and Phil had to finish it, which he did with great enjoyment, despite having eaten an entire cupcake of his own not long before. Dan, in turn, finished the coffee. He decided that he preferred coffee to cupcakes, but opted to keep that thought to himself, lest he hurt Phil’s feelings. Phil had been so excited about the cupcake, after all.

They sat silently together at the table, an empty plate in front of Phil, an empty mug in Dan’s hands, both of them watching the snow which had begun falling again outside. This time, Dan hadn’t needed to prompt it.

“So,” Phil began softly, “you can’t stay.” Dan shook his head. They met each other’s eyes, sharing their regret. “Do you need to leave right away? Could you stay until tomorrow?” Phil looked hopeful, but Dan silently shook his head again.

Dan looked down into his empty mug. He’d tasted food and drink for the first time tonight. He’d played in the snow. He’d kissed someone he loved. He couldn’t ask for more. He’d already taken too much, far more than he should.

“This is all…” he began, but Phil interrupted him.

“Against the rules. I know.” Phil sounded bitter now. “You know, these rules really suck.”

That surprised a laugh out of Dan, but then he nodded in reluctant agreement. “They really really do.”

“Are you going to erase my memory now? Leave me sitting in a coffee shop wondering why there are three candles on my empty plate?” Phil’s quiet voice held pain and acceptance.

How could Phil accept even this?

How could he accept it when even Dan could not?

Because Dan found that he couldn’t. He must be the worst fucking guardian angel in the history of existence, because these rules made no fucking sense to him, and he absolutely could not accept that he had to erase himself and this wonderful, beautiful night from Phil’s memory.

“What if…” Dan began hesitantly. Could he really do this? Visiting Phil was one thing, but this … this would be a much more serious breach of the rules. He’d never heard of anyone doing such a thing. “What if I didn’t erase your memory?” he finished in a quiet rush.

Phil’s head came up and he stared at Dan, shocked. “I thought that was…” but Dan interrupted him.

“Against the rules. Yeah. It is. But what if I didn’t?” Dan gazed anxiously at Phil.

Phil shrugged in confusion. “Then I would remember everything we did tonight.” He smiled. “Everything.” His gaze flicked down to Dan’s lips, then back up to his eyes.

“But, that isn’t everything that would change,” Dan insisted, frustrated with Phil’s lack of understanding. “You would always know, from now on. You would always know about me. That I’m watching. That I’m there. That’s what’s not permitted. Humans can’t know about us or it might change their behavior, and we’re merely observers. We’re not supposed to change your lives except in the small ways we help to keep you safe.”

Phil put his hand on Dan’s underneath the table and met his eyes with steely determination. “So I would know for the rest of my life that I wasn’t alone, that you were always with me, that someone was always on my side and watching out for me. I don’t see how that could be a bad thing.”

“I’m not going to do it,” Dan said, making the sudden decision at the same time as the words erupted from his mouth. “I’m not going to erase your memory.”

“But what about the rules?” Phil asked, suddenly anxious. “Will something happen to you if you don’t?”

“I don’t know,” Dan admitted. “I’ve never heard of anyone doing this before. But I’m not erasing this night, not for anything. I don’t want to hold the memory for both of us … I want us to hold it together.” They smiled at each other like shy co-conspirators.

They held hands tightly, and Dan never wanted to let go. He’d heard it so many times, but he’d never understood it when humans said that, when they said, “I never want to let go,” but now he knew. Because now he felt it.

“Are you sure you can’t stay? Absolutely sure?” Phil sounded despondent.

Dan felt pain in his chest and wondered if this was what humans meant when they talked about “heartbreak.” How could he learn so much in one night? And all by breaking the rules! Was this why the rules existed, to prevent guardian angels from learning about humans, instead of preventing humans from learning about guardian angels? Or both?

He spoke firmly, despite his own agonized feelings. “There are rules, Phil, and I might be breaking a lot of them tonight, but this is the biggest one. It’s impossible. No one has ever done it.”

“Just because no one has ever done it doesn’t mean it’s impossible,” Phil replied with just the slightest amount of hope in his voice, but Dan just shook his head and gazed morosely into the empty coffee cup.

“I can’t stay, Phil. I have to go. But you know I’m not actually going anywhere. I’ll still be here.” He looked up to meet Phil’s beautiful, gentle, loving eyes. So sad, but so beautiful. “Will you promise me something?”

“Anything,” Phil replied without hesitation.

“Promise me you’ll move out of that miserable flat,” Dan insisted, fighting off his own despair with bravado. “Away from that terrible cunt of a flatmate. Find someplace of your own, someplace you can be happy.”

Tears gathered in those beautiful eyes. “I promise.”

“You know I’ll see if you break your word.” Dan tried to smile, but felt he probably did a poor job of it.

Phil gave a wobbly smile of his own. “I won’t. I’ll give David my notice tonight and find another place. I’ll be out by the end of next month.”

“Just … be happy, Phil. Nobody deserves it more than you do.”

Phil didn’t say anything, just gazed wordlessly at Dan.

“And … just know … I’m always here,” Dan added at last.

They both sat there a moment before Dan gave into his impulse, winding his hands into Phil’s hair and pulling him into a quick, fierce kiss which immediately gentled into something achingly sweet before he let their lips part. He looked into Phil’s pale eyes for a long moment, enjoying the warmness of him, the realness of him, the realness of them both, their last moment of togetherness. And then he let go and stood up from the table.

Dan walked away from Phil and past the wide-eyed barista, opening the shop door and hearing the chime as he walked through. He would not let himself look back as the door swung shut behind him. He stepped into the falling snow and relished its cold on his skin as he walked away from the coffee shop and into the darkness beyond its windows, beyond the lamplights. He walked into the dark until all he left behind was the imprint of two zippered boots on pristine white snow.

—

He saw Phil sit alone in the coffee shop for a long time, holding the empty mug in his hands and looking at the three candles on the empty plate in front of him, occasionally gazing out at the snow with a melancholy smile and eyes shining with tears.

And then he got to watch Phil walk home to tell his shocked fucking fuckwad of a flatmate that he was moving out.

—

Phil and his friend Chris packed kitchenware together into a large box.

“How long have you been flatmates with this bloke?” Chris asked.

Phil shrugged. “About three years, I think.”

“And you still keep all your plates and mugs and things in separate cabinets? After all this time?” Chris seemed offended on Phil’s behalf. Dan could tell he thought David must be a real twat.

He was absolutely correct on that score, of course.

“David didn’t want me using his things,” Phil replied, and Dan wanted to strangle the selfish little twat with his inconveniently incorporeal hands. But the all-important rules said he mustn’t affect the lives of anyone other than his assigned charge, which was Phil, so he couldn’t even cause any kind of accidental mishaps that might send Phil’s soon-to-be-former flatmate slipping on some conveniently located ice or anything. Phil added, “He says I break things.”

Well, okay, Dan had to admit that was fair.

Chris nodded. “Well, that’s fair,” he said, echoing Dan’s thoughts. Dan liked Chris. In fact, Dan liked all of Phil’s small collection of friends. Phil had good taste in people, in general, because he looked for humor and kindness above all, and those were excellent qualities, in Dan’s opinion. Dan had to admit that he even considered himself to display those qualities. He might not be the most cheerful entity in the universe, but he did think of himself as kind—to those who deserved it—and he certainly saw the humor in things—probably even in many things he shouldn’t. He liked irony, sarcasm, and dark humor. He wasn’t sure if those above him in the power structure would approve, but he didn’t really care.

He cared less about them, and about the rules, than he used to, even if he’d never been the most obedient and obliging of employees. He’d always tried, and he still tried today … but he just cared more about something else now. Or, rather, someone.

Half an hour later, Phil and Chris began carrying boxes down the steps to the small lorry Phil had rented. Phil misstepped and very nearly fell all the way down the stairway and broke his damned neck, but Dan made the stair quickly rise up to meet his gigantic clumsy foot, and Phil instead only came dangerously close to dropping a box full of mismatched crockery.

“Watch it there, mate!” Chris called out in surprised concern. “You’ll crack your head open falling down these concrete stairs!”

But Phil only took a few more careful steps before replying with a slight smile, “My guardian angel must be watching over me.”

In his incorporeal heart Dan smiled, too, even though Phil couldn’t see him.

—

On Valentine’s Day, Phil refused his friends’ invitation to go out together. Phil often refused invitations to go out, as he preferred to stay in, so this was nothing unusual, but instead of video games or his other usual pastimes, Phil sat on his new sofa in his new flat, surrounded by cardboard moving boxes, and watched The Notebook on Netflix, sobbing as if his heart was breaking.

Perhaps it was.

Or perhaps it already had.

Had Dan done that to him? Had he betrayed his only reason for existence by actually hurting the one person he was meant to protect from harm?

In the evening, Phil took a bus to the coffee house near his old flat and ordered a red velvet cupcake. The young man at the counter told him that they didn’t sell red velvet cupcakes. When Phil argued that he’d bought one only two weeks prior, the employee assured him that the bakery did not provide them with red velvet cupcakes, and so they’d never been available at this location.

Phil nodded slowly, giving a secret little wry smile as if he understood that Dan had made those particular cupcakes happen on that particular evening just for him, and Dan again felt a smile burgeon within his angelic heart. It was a slightly sad incorporeal smile, though, because it hurt to see Phil back in that coffee house alone, remembering him.

Phil ordered a plain chocolate cupcake with a cup of coffee and went to sit down. Half the tables were full, including the one at the window, so Phil sat at another table nearby to wait for his name to be called. With more than one table occupied, the employee working the counter certainly wouldn’t bring orders to the patrons’ tables as the friendly barista had on the night Dan and Phil had been there together.

When Phil’s name was called, he fetched his order and sat at a table not too far from the window, discreetly watching the couple sitting there. When they moved to stand up, Phil moved as quickly as was politely possible to claim the table before anyone else could.

He sat a long time at the table—their table—gazing out the window at the falling snow. He nursed his coffee, drinking the entire thing as slowly as possible, but he only ate half his cupcake, and there were no candles on the plate beside it when he left it behind.

Afterward, Phil sat on the bench in the little park until he was shivering with cold. His dark hair drenched with melted snow, he walked slowly back to the bus stop, where he sat with his hands in his pockets, looking at the ground, until the bus eventually came to take him back to his new flat.

—

“You’re listening to the Internet Takeover with AmazingPhil, and that was Lion Babe! Did you like it? If so, shoot me a message to tell me what you think. And now I have a special dedication. It’s a belated Valentine’s Day dedication to everyone out there who spent this particular holiday alone. Don’t give up, because there may still be someone out there for you! This is an oldie but a goodie, and it’s called ’Someone to Watch Over Me’…”

—

Phil visited Florida with his family, and Martyn commented that his little brother seemed more subdued than usual.

“I’m just … missing someone,” Phil replied, obviously so relaxed in the company of loved ones that he wasn’t thinking to be circumspect about his words.

Martyn heartily clapped him on the back. “I didn’t even know you were dating anybody!” he said with obvious happiness.

Phil blinked. He looked at Martyn. “Oh,” he stammered, “I’m not.”

Martyn looked confused, but said in a more subdued voice, “Well, then, if you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

Dan knew Phil wouldn’t talk about it.

—

Phil attended a major YouTube convention, where he met a great many people—both members of his audience and fellow content creators—who hugged him, and Dan wanted to cut all their arms off, because these strangers shouldn’t get to hug Phil when Dan couldn’t.

The desire to dismember people wasn’t a very appropriate thought for a guardian angel, but since when had Dan confined himself to appropriate thoughts?

One fan after another told Phil that watching him had changed their lives, and Dan just kept thinking, “I’m not alive, I don’t have a life, I don’t get to have a life, but … same.”

—

“You’re listening to the Internet Takeover with AmazingPhil! I’ve got a request here from @snow-dude, so we’re going to play Evanescence’s ‘My Immortal’...”

—

Phil looked more uncomfortable at this particular party than Dan had perhaps ever seen him before. He’d been told to expect just a few friends, but the few friends had brought another few friends, and Phil’s mate’s flat ended up filled with more people than Phil usually socialized with in a month. Or even two.

Wearing his minimal Halloween costume of cat ears on his head and whiskers drawn on his face, Phil sat on a sofa in the lounge, looking at his phone, obviously hoping no one would talk to him.

A rather handsome fellow dressed as Thor—lacking somewhat in the muscles department, despite the fact that he obviously did work out a bit—joined Phil on the sofa and said hello. Dan would have gnashed his teeth if he had any.

“Hi,” Thor said, smiling in a very friendly way. Not too friendly, not edging into creepy, but just friendly enough to put a nerd like Phil at ease.

“Hi,” Phil replied, putting his phone down like any polite Englishman would when confronting a blatant social assault.

“A cat, huh?” Thor commented. Dan decided that the guy must be a moron.

“A cat/human hybrid,” Phil replied, then held up his hands like claws and showed his teeth before laughing awkwardly.

Thor laughed along with him. “So … um … Bryony tells me you do YouTube. I know she used to be into that, but I don’t know much about it. What sort of videos do you make?”

Phil looked physically pained at his complete inability to escape this conversation. And then Thor slid his hand down onto Phil’s shoulder and squeezed slightly. Dan didn’t have fists, but in his mind he clenched them anyway. He clenched his nonexistent fists in an overwhelming desire to punch this Thor fucker in the fucking face.

But Phil just scooted away slightly, avoiding Thor’s hand, and looked away. “Um … I’m sort of … I’m sort of hung up on someone…”

Thor looked mortified. “Oh, jeez, I’m sorry! Bryony didn’t tell me, or I wouldn’t have…”

Phil smiled sadly. “It’s okay. I haven’t really told anybody about it. But I just can’t move on, you know?”

Thor looked extremely uncomfortable when faced with a complete stranger’s romantic sob story—he, too, was English, after all—and so he removed himself from the situation pretty speedily.

“That’s right!” Dan thought. “You just keep moving! And you don’t look anything like Thor, anyway! Just so you know!”

But Dan had watched every moment of Phil’s life this past year, so he knew Phil hadn’t dated anyone in the past several months, and so if he was hung up on someone … it was still Dan. And that really shouldn’t make him happy, because it was making Phil miserable, and Dan’s job was to try to keep Phil happy and healthy.

But it still made him happy.

Not that Phil was sad. He wasn’t happy about that, of course not.

But the fact that Phil still thought about him, about that night in the snow together … he couldn’t help but feel happy about that, because Dan hadn’t forgotten it for a single second since it happened.

—

Phil scrubbed the stovetop from where he’d spilled some pasta and it had burned into a crusted-on mess. He had to exert quite a bit of effort, but he got into a sort of rhythm with his scrubbing as he hummed in time with his movements.

Then Dan recognized the song Phil was humming.

Knowing Phil, it wouldn’t be long before he started to sing, and sure enough a moment later Phil started belting out Betty Who’s “Somebody Loves You.”

Who’s around when the days feel long Who’s around when you can’t be strong Who’s around when you’re losing your mind Who cares that you get home safe Who knows you can’t be replaced Who thinks that you’re one of a kind

Dan tried to contain an inward chuckle at Phil singing alone there in his kitchen, scrubbing at his disgusting stovetop, but he didn’t have to try very hard. He actually didn’t find it all that funny, because he really hoped that Phil thought of him when he sang this song.

Dan suddenly realized he’d been hearing Phil humming this tune for days, but just hadn’t identified it until now.

Phil continued singing.

I’m around when your head is heavy I’m around when your hands aren’t steady I’m around when your day’s gone all wrong

Dan listened until he finally couldn’t help it and in his mind he chimed in unison with Phil, “Ooh somebody loves you…” even though Phil, of course, couldn’t hear him.

—

“Phil? Martyn? Will one of you come help your poor mother?” Phil’s mum called out to her sons. Most of the decorations already adorned the tree, but only the pinnacle remained.

Phil looked up from where he had been placing one of the final baubles on a lower branch and asked, “What is it, Mum?”

“It’s the angel,” she replied, and Phil blanched. “We need to put it on the top of the tree, and I’m not tall enough, even with the stool.”

“Ask Martyn,” Phil choked, and he raced out of the room.

Phil fled to the guest room containing his things and closed the door, sliding down to sit with his back against it, making sure that no one would follow him in to ask what was wrong.

And then Phil cried. Silently into his hands, not wanting any of his family to hear. He cried for a long time.

And if Dan could have, he would have cried, too.

—

Phil was eating dinner with four good friends at a rather nice Thai restaurant. Nothing uncomfortably fancy, but not a place he would casually frequent. Dressed much more nicely than usual, he seemed quite at ease and happy with his companions, who laughed perhaps a bit more loudly than he did, but Phil was rarely a loud person, except occasionally when playing video games.

Phil smiled with contentment, and Dan couldn’t help feeling as if he’d played a role in getting Phil to this place in his life, that he’d set Phil on this better path even if it had only been by encouraging him to leave that wretched flatmate behind last year.

Dan could barely believe the change in Phil’s circumstances. He was thriving now: living in his own flat which he’d furnished with his own things exactly to his own tastes, succeeding admirably both on YouTube and on his radio show at the BBC, closer than ever to both friends and family.

But there was one fly in the ointment. That lingering bit of sadness behind his eyes. That sense that he longed for something—someone—he’d lost forever. Those song dedications. His refusal to date.

—

It was just too much. Watching him suffer like that … it was too much.

—

A pair of black zippered boots appeared, attached to a black-clad form slightly hidden in the grass some distance from the door to the restaurant. It had been a warm January and so the snow had not settled in the warmer areas, but a bit lingered at Dan’s feet in the shadows.

He stepped onto the pavement and walked to the restaurant’s door, opening it and going inside, where a rather officious-looking little man at a podium asked him if he had a reservation. Dan hesitated a moment, then told the host that he was with the Lester party.

As the man led him through the restaurant, Dan began to feel increasingly nervous. How would Phil react? Were people staring at him? Could they tell that something was not quite right about Dan? Would Phil’s friends find him odd? Would he make Phil uncomfortable at his own birthday celebration? Perhaps this had been a bad idea.

But it was too late to turn back now, because Phil had seen him.

Phil’s friends continued their conversation, but Phil simply stared at Dan, his mouth slightly open in shock. When Dan arrived at the table, Phil didn’t say anything, though his friends all fell silent, turning to look at Dan with open curiosity. The host glanced uncertainly at Dan, obviously wondering now whether Dan had lied about being a member of the party at the table, wondering whether he’d be forced to somehow eject Dan from the premises despite Dan’s comparatively impressive size.

Dan glanced at the floor, then back to meet Phil’s eyes again. “Surprise?” he offered lamely. “May I … I thought perhaps I might join you. If … if you like.”

The restaurant’s host glanced between Phil and Dan, clearly uncertain. “Sir, this gentleman said he was a member of your party. But if he is bothering you…”

“No!” Phil replied quickly. “No! He’s not bothering me … us. I mean … yes … I know him … he is with us.”

With their odd-numbered party of five, there was, in fact, a spare place setting at the table. It was at the opposite end from where Phil sat, and Dan hesitated, nervous about joining the group and sitting so alone. Phil’s friends looked from Phil to Dan, clearly waiting for some explanation of the situation.

Phil stammered in obvious disbelief, “This is my … friend … Dan. I … I haven’t … I haven’t seen him … in a really long time. I had no idea he might be coming.” His friends seemed a bit confused, and Phil noticed their reactions. “He’s a very dear friend,” he hurried to explain, and Dan felt a surge of emotion at the description. “Would you … would you mind changing seats so that we can sit together? It’s been far too long since I’ve seen him and … I just…” Phil trailed off in wordless shock. But his friends just smiled and rearranged themselves, moving their plates and things with them as they scooted along to make room for Dan to sit at Phil’s right side.

“Hi,” Dan said quietly, with a bit of a shy smile.

“Hi,” Phil replied with more happiness in his eyes than Dan had seen in a very long time. In a year, perhaps, since that night in the snow. That tiny lingering sadness had completely disappeared.

“I’m Bryony,” one of Phil’s friends introduced herself when it became apparent that Phil was not going to do the honors. Dan already knew her name, of course. She was one of Phil’s closest friends, and Dan already liked her immensely. He gave her a warm smile.

Phil jolted out of his daze and quickly introduced everyone else. They all welcomed Dan with open friendliness, as kind and generous as Phil himself. Phil had such excellent friends. Dan felt honored to finally meet them. He said as much, and they looked at him oddly. “Phil has … spoken of you often,” he said awkwardly, because that wasn’t quite a lie. Phil had spoken of them often, just not directly to Dan. “I feel as if I know you already.”

“That’s odd,” Phil’s friend Thomas commented, glancing at Phil. “He’s never mentioned you.”

“I asked him not to,” Dan explained quickly, uncertain if perhaps he was just making things worse. “Our relationship has been … an odd one.” Thomas’s eyebrows went up, and Phil’s friends exchanged knowing looks. “Not the way that sounds…” Dan stuttered, realizing that he’d just implied a secret romantic relationship and may have made Phil uncomfortable.

“Exactly the way that sounds,” Phil said firmly, smiling at Dan. He looked at his friends. “I’m glad you finally get to meet him. Dan and I have been very close for a long time, but I never thought I’d get this chance for you all to know each other.” He reached out and took Dan’s hand with a smile so full of bliss that all Dan’s doubts fell away.

“How long are you staying?” Phil asked. “I mean … how long will you be in town?” He glanced uncertainly at his friends, clearly trying to behave and sound as normal as possible in this ridiculously abnormal situation.

“I thought I’d stick around this time,” Dan offered tentatively. “Move here. We could see each other all the time, you know? So I’m looking for a flat.” Dan floundered. “And … er … a job, I suppose. I’ll need one of those.”

Phil’s face went pale, then flushed. “You’re … you’re staying?” he asked, wonder in his voice.

Dan nodded. “If that’s … what you want.”

“Yes!” Phil exclaimed without hesitation. “Yes, that’s what I want! Of course that’s what I want! I can’t believe … you’re really staying? Permanently?”

“Permanently,” Dan affirmed, reassured by Phil’s excited response.

“Well, if you’re staying,” Phil’s friend Thomas interrupted with good cheer, “then you may as well break bread with us. We’re sharing everything family-style, so help yourself!”

Dan looked at the various dishes on the table with some trepidation. He knew what all the foods were, as he’d watched Phil eat and discuss them on previous occasions, but he had no idea how they would actually taste. He reached out toward a green curry, which he knew Phil liked quite a bit, but Phil put a hand on his arm to stop him. “That one’s a bit spicy,” Phil warned. “You might want to start with something milder. Maybe the pad thai.”

Phil’s friends had resumed their eating, but now paused again to glance in confusion at this exchange.

“This is my first time…” Dan began, uncertain how to explain.

“His first time having Thai food,” Phil finished for him, saving him. Dan nodded. It was true, after all.

Everyone else at the table expressed their surprise that Dan had never had Thai food before and all made suggestions regarding which dishes he should try first. Dan followed Phil’s suggestions and ended up with a modest amount of food on his plate.

Dan had heard people talk about food millions of times. He’d watched people eat millions of times. But that red velvet cupcake last year was the only food he’d ever tasted, and now ... he tasted all kinds of flavors. Like a real person, he was just … eating, which was completely different from observing it from the outside, from an immeasurable distance.

It was an overwhelming experience. So many sensations all at once.

He glanced at Phil and saw him watching Dan with concern. And suddenly everything was all right. He was with Phil. He took another bite of pad thai, and he tasted noodles, and he heard Phil’s friends talk to him as if he were real, because he was real, he was finally real, and he was human, and he was with Phil.

He chewed his noodles and swallowed, and gave Phil a smile. He wasn’t just an invisible guardian anymore—he was part of this world. With Phil.

In the end, he decided that his favorite dish was the fresh spring roll with shrimp, dipped in a peanut sauce that left a slight burning sensation on his tongue. That must be what “spicy” tasted like.

When they’d all finished and the plates had been cleared from the table, a member of the waitstaff arrived with a white-frosted cake topped with four flaming candles. “Three candles for the decades, and one for the additional year,” Bryony explained, and everyone laughed. Phil blew out the candles, and the cake was placed on the table where they could all see it in greater detail.

On the white surface, a forest scene had been hand drawn in primarily red piping. Squirrels, rabbits, foxes, and hedgehogs cavorted among plants and trees piped in green, with blue-piped stars scattered above their heads. The candles had been planted among the stars.

Dan immediately recognized the style, and along with everyone else he turned to look at Phil’s friend Will, a well-known artist. Tears gleamed in Phil’s eyes as he whispered, “It’s so beautiful.” Dan couldn’t help remembering the horribly disappointing cake from the previous year, and he felt proud that he had encouraged Phil to grow closer to his true friends instead of relying so much on a flatmate who didn’t care for him at all.

Dan gave Will a warm smile and said quite honestly, “I recognize your art style. It was wonderful of you to do this for Phil.” Will returned Dan’s smile and looked down at the table shyly, nodding his silent thanks for the compliment.

“But we can’t cut this up!” Phil insisted. “It’s too pretty to eat!” Bryony took several photos of Phil with the cake, then several of the cake itself, then encouraged him to cut a slice, because the beauty would be well preserved in photos. Still, Phil flinched slightly when he sliced into the cake for the first time. “Who wants some stars?” he asked, then he glanced at Dan.

“I want the hedgehog,” Dan requested in an effort to sound normal and divert attention away from himself.

“Take the stars for yourself,” Bryony suggested. “You certainly deserve them, and more.” She leaned in to give Phil a kiss on the cheek. Dan decided he rather loved Bryony. He hoped they would become good friends.

The idea of having friends felt strange, but good. Something fluttered in his stomach, and he thought it might be happiness. He would have to identify all these feelings as time went on.

He had so much to learn.

“It’s red velvet!” Phil cried as he pulled the first slice out of the cake. Everyone laughed at his surprise. Because of course these people would know he loved red velvet, that it was his favorite, and they would go out of their way to get him what he wanted most, and they would spend hours decorating it, and they would give him the quiet sort of party he enjoyed. Dan doubted that anyone had purchased this cake at any Tesco, and he looked at Bryony, guessing that she had probably baked it herself.

This was friendship, and this was love. This was the very best of what it meant to be human.

This was what Dan had chosen, and he doubted he would ever regret it for a moment.

—

When they emerged from the restaurant, everyone began discussing who should share taxis, all in a noisy, happy jumble of conversation.

Dan looked at Phil. “Want to go for a walk?” It wasn’t only food he would need to get used to. Five different people talking to him across the dinner table had been rather a lot to follow. He just longed for a moment alone with Phil.

“But it’s started snowing again!” Thomas objected, sounding concerned.

“That’s perfect,” Phil said, smiling at Dan.

—

“So you just quit?”

“So I just quit,” Dan affirmed as they walked side by side along the pavement and the snow fell lightly around them, landing on their hair and coats.

“How do you ‘quit’ being a guardian angel? Do you submit your letter of resignation to heaven or something?” Phil sounded amazed and baffled.

Dan shrugged. “I don’t know anything about heaven. I always just got orders to watch over someone, and so I did it. And today I decided I wasn’t going to do it anymore. That I was going to be with you for real, instead.”

“So you quit?” Phil was repeating himself now, still sounding dazed. “You just walked away?”

“So I quit. I just took human form again and decided I’m going to stay here.” Dan didn’t say anything else for a moment, but he stared intently down at his feet as he took each step. Finally, he burst out, “I couldn’t stand to be with you, but have you not able to see me.” Dan clenched his fists as they walked. It had been horrible. “I couldn’t stand to not be able to talk to you, or drink coffee with you, or … I couldn’t stand to not be with you, really with you, not even for one more day.”

Phil put a hand on Dan’s arm to stop him, to turn him and meet his eyes. They stood in the falling snow and looked at each other. “I thought you said it was impossible,” Phil reminded him in hushed tones, as if he couldn’t believe this was real.

Dan reached up to take Phil’s hand in his, smiling at him. “And you said I couldn’t know if it was impossible, just because no one had ever done it.” He leaned in to kiss Phil softly, then whispered, “I did the impossible for you, Phil Lester.”

And then Phil gave him a real kiss.

—

“You know, if you’re going to be a proper human person, you’ll need a last name,” Phil teased as they continued their walk, hands linked and swinging idly between them.

Dan hadn’t thought of that. He considered. “Well, I’m sort of being born in winter, right? ‘Winter is coming,’ and all that. Perhaps something from ‘Game of Thrones,’” he mused.

Phil chuckled. “Daniel Stark?”

Dan shook his head, laughing. “I’d feel too much like the son of Iron Man or something.”

“Dan Lannister?” Phil suggested, clearly joking now. “Daniel Greyjoy?” He snorted, he was laughing so hard.

Dan tilted his head, thinking. “I see myself more as the silent protector type,” he mused. “Lurking unseen until finally I make myself known at just the right moment.” It sounded perfect.

Phil looked confused. “What character is that?”

“A direwolf,” Dan said smugly, referring to the powerful animals that had protected the Stark children.

Phil raised his eyebrows. “Those names might call a bit of attention. Dan Ghost? Daniel Nymeria?”

“I was thinking of something less literal. Maybe something related to wolves in general. Daniel Wolfe? Is it too obvious?”

Phil shrugged. “That could work. Or maybe something about howling?”

Dan nodded, pleased. “I kind of like that one, but the spelling needs work, because the word ‘howl’ wouldn’t look like a proper last name.”

Phil suggested, “What about ‘Howell’?” and he spelled it to show what he meant.

Dan grinned. “I love it. Daniel Howell. The direwolf who’s been protecting you silently from the shadows all these years.”

“I love it, too.” Phil stopped and gave him a serious look. “I love you, Daniel Howell.” And then Phil reeled him in for another kiss.

“Daniel Howell loves you back. More than you know.” Dan wrapped his arms around Phil and just held him tight, feeling how real he was, how real they both were, together.

—

“What happens now?” Phil asked eventually.

Dan continued walking beside him. “Well, I hoped I could stay at yours, just until I figure things out … if that’s okay with you.” He glanced at Phil’s face, then back down at the pavement, feeling shy all of a sudden.

“No,” Phil said, and Dan’s stomach dropped. He’d always wondered what that expression meant, and now he knew. It was horrid. “I mean, yes, of course,” Phil continued, squeezing Dan’s hand in his. “Of course you can stay with me, but I meant … in the larger scheme of things.” Dan looked at him and waited, not sure what Phil was trying to ask.

Phil frowned, trying to find words, then asked hesitantly, “Are you still an angel? Or are you human?”

Dan shook his head, then shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, I think I could go back to just observing from the outside if I wanted to, but I don’t want to. Right now I’m human, and I plan to stay that way. To stay with you.”

“Will you always look like this, while I get old and wrinkly and gray?”

Dan laughed. Phil honestly seemed worried about this. “I don’t know, Phil, but I doubt it. I expect this human body will age like any other human body does. So I assume I’ll age with you. We’ll get old and wrinkly and gray together.”

“Forever?” Phil asked. “Do you promise?” His eyebrows were drawn together in a little pinch above his nose as if this was the most important question he’d ever asked.

“I promise you,” Dan replied seriously, trying to calm his love’s fears. “Philip Lester, until your very last breath. I’ll always be with you.”

“And after that? After my last breath? What happens then?”

Dan hadn’t really thought about that. The important thing was to be with Phil. The rest would work itself out. Phil was the important thing.

“To be honest,” Dan said, “I don’t know. I’ve never seen past this, past what you humans do here on earth. But whatever it is, whatever happens next, we’ll do it together. Nothing’s going to make me let go of your hand. Not ever.”

Phil squeezed Dan’s hand, then pulled Dan into his arms and kissed him. His lips were cold but fantastic. “Together,” Phil affirmed. “Forever.”

Dan nodded his head and then leaned back slightly, just enough that he could see Phil’s pale eyes in the light from the street lamps. Dan smiled. The snow fell soft and quiet around them as they gazed into each other’s eyes, and it was the first day of Dan’s life.

The very first day.

Phil donned the military-style coat with its ridiculously fiddly golden closures and high, scratchy collar, and adjusted the fringed epaulettes on his shoulders, then also the snug belt at his waist. Last, always last, he tugged on the pristine white gloves he was required to wear at all times. Yes, he had to wear not only a thick coat but also gloves in the 33ºC heat. This job sometimes felt death-defying, as if earning his meager wages might actually result in him expiring from heat stroke at any moment.

With his naturally sunny disposition, he had thought that playing a Disney character to amuse children all day would come naturally and even make him happy. But it hadn’t turned out quite as he expected, and his sunny disposition was growing cloudier and cloudier under the bright California sun as he toiled endlessly in this costume so ridiculously unsuited to the local weather.

He slathered his face with sunscreen, since no other skin on his body would be exposed to the sun, before he combed and shellacked his hair into the required unmovable quiff, and then practiced a bright smile as he gazed into the dressing room mirror.

Well, thus started another shift at the happiest fucking place on earth.

***

As he escorted Julie (a.k.a. Cinderella) down Main Street, they maintained their constant smiles and stopped to chat with any park guests who showed an interest. They also, of course, posed for about a thousand photos per hour.

“Oh, you’re even faking a British accent!” a woman in plaid shorts and a striped tank top cooed at him after taking several photos of him with her children as they pelted him with questions about what it was like to be a prince and were he and Cinderella married and where did they live and did they have any kids and a million other questions Phil had to answer a hundred times every day, always making sure to stay in character.

That was the most important part of his job, as the management had stressed over and over during his hiring process and continued to stress nearly every day. He must always stay in character, must always be Prince Charming. Even when one of the overly entitled children kicked him in the shin, he had to laugh it off and tousle the boy’s hair with a faked fondness that potentially put him in danger of getting his hand bitten.

Luckily, the annoying costume gloves would have protected him from whatever rabies the brat might be carrying.

“Your accent doesn’t sound quite right, but it’s good enough to fool the kids, and that’s what matters at Disneyland, right?” The woman grinned at him, showing red lipstick smeared across her front teeth. She made no attempt to control the four children apparently in her care as they ran about and climbed on anything they could get near.

Phil smiled at her, trying not to grind his teeth audibly, and said, “Children certainly are a blessing and a joy, yours especially. It’s been so wonderful to talk with all of you,” and then he took Julie by the gloved hand to guide her away.

“One more picture!” the woman yelled after them, so he and Julie turned, and she looped her arm gracefully through his as they’d been forced to practice a thousand times, and they posed with those bright fake smiles as the tourist snapped a few more photos with her phone before they were released to stroll again down the boulevard full of families sweating in their summer clothing, sure that none of them ever spared a thought for the costumed park employees in their much less comfortable attire.

He thanked his lucky stars that at least he didn’t have to wear one of the non-human costumes, like the fellow who played Mickey Mouse. That guy was always a disgusting, sweat-drenched mess at the end of his shift, but at least he didn’t have to actually talk to the park guests like Phil and Julie did.

It must be much easier to stay in character when you didn’t have to smile or talk.

Suddenly, out of the constant babble around him, Phil noticed an English accent, then another. A family stood nearby, and they were clearly from one of the southern counties. Berkshire, maybe? The voice he had first noticed seemed to belong to an utterly beautiful boy near Phil’s own age, and he couldn’t help but stare a moment until Julie patted his arm to remind him to keep playing his character role.

Always stay in character. Always be Prince Charming. He smiled brightly at the beautiful boy, who raised an eyebrow.

And then suddenly the boy walked away from what Phil could only assume was his family and approached Phil and Julie. “This guy’s a philanderer, you know,” he told Julie, jerking his thumb at Phil. “He’s got loads of other girls on the side. Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, Rapunzel … and who knows how many other hapless women who subscribe to the ridiculous gender roles that require them to passively wait to be rescued by a man instead of proactively getting themselves out of their own stupid predicaments.”

Great. A heckler. They didn’t appear often, but when they did … joy. This one was surprisingly—and intriguingly—articulate, but still … a heckler. Phil forced the smile to stay on his face, nodded politely to the beautiful pain in his ass, and began to lead Julie away. The heckler grinned at him, showing deep dimples that only made him more lovely, and Phil contained a groan of dismay at the bolt of intense desire that shot through him.

“He’s also the villain of the story,” Beautiful Heckler continued loudly as they started to turn away. “Anyone who’s watched the Shrek movies knows that.”

“If you’ll excuse us,” Phil bestowed upon the little asshole his most gracious smile, “my princess and I must continue to visit with our many guests.”

The heckler’s brown eyes went wide as he heard Phil’s voice. “You’re English!” he exclaimed in obvious shock. Phil only nodded, his hands embarrassingly sweaty in those terrible gloves, and tried to extricate himself and Julie from this potentially out-of-character conversation.

“Indeed, I am. It’s been lovely to meet you, but we should continue on our way. Please do enjoy your stay in our magical kingdom.” Julie’s hand tightened on his arm, signaling him to speed up their escape. It wasn’t his job to stand talking to a twentyish twink with gorgeous dimples when there were hundreds of small children and lipstick-smeared mothers waiting to meet their favorite Disney characters come to life.

But Heckler Boy put his hand on Phil’s other arm and asked, “Where are you from? And why are you working at Disneyland, of all places?” He was shaking his head in disbelief, shiny brown curls bouncing slightly.

“I’m from a kingdom far away,” Phil replied in character, ignoring Julie’s increasingly tight squeeze on his arm. “But I journeyed far to find my true love.” He turned to smile at Julie, and she smiled at him with her mouth but glared at him with her eyes.

Phil gave in and nodded his best aloof Prince Charming nod at the beautiful heckler, who was now staring at him in apparent fascination, making Phil want to do nothing but stay there and stare at him in return. But he wasn’t Phil right now, and he couldn’t flirt with anyone but Julie, and he couldn’t be visibly gay—though, honestly, what Prince Charming didn’t seem at least a little gay? So he just patted the boy’s hand on his coat sleeve, wishing that there wasn’t a layer of polyester glove preventing their skin from touching, even just for that brief moment, and then he and Julie continued on with their stroll, only to be stopped almost immediately by a family with two small children who wanted to pose for photos.

Smiling for the tourist’s camera, Phil dared a quick glance in the direction where he’d left the beautiful British boy and saw him still watching Phil, which made him blush a bit. Blushing in this costume was extremely unpleasant, as it only made him even warmer than he already was, but he couldn’t help it when such an attractive guy was watching him like that.

After the family had taken their photos, Phil took Julie by the hand again, tucked her arm through his, and escorted her further into the park.

He didn’t look back toward the boy again.

***

Phil groaned with pleasure as he pulled off the hated gloves at the end of his shift, divesting himself of the rest of the horrible costume as quickly as possible. The entire thing was soaked with sweat. It was lucky the park supplied him with a clean costume each day, because he could never have kept up with the laundry himself.

In another stroke of luck, the “backstage” area had showers, so Phil cleaned up with a thorough soap and shampoo, running the water cool enough to give himself goosebumps, but glad of the temperature change after an entire day of roasting in the sun and polyester.

Donning his own clothes again and giving his black hair a quick combing, he snuck out through the backstage entrance instead of the employee exit he was supposed to use. Character-role employees were forbidden to re-enter the park in their street clothes, lest a guest recognize them, spoiling the oh-so-important illusion. Phil couldn’t have said what inspired him to break the rules today when he never had before, but if he’d been forced to guess, he probably could have intuited that it had something to do with a certain heckler with irresistible dimples.

In a park filled with thousands of people, he was extremely unlikely to even see the guy again, let alone have a conversation with him … but only 10 minutes or so after he left the employee area, he saw him. Phil wondered if maybe the guy wouldn’t recognize him now that he was out of costume, but when their eyes met, the boy immediately grinned and said something to his family before turning and walking toward Phil.

He looked Phil up and down, and his first words to him were, “I like the ripped jeans a lot more than the prince outfit. You look hot in a very different way.”

Phil had no idea what to say to that. He’d sort of secretly hoped to see the guy again, but he’d had absolutely no expectation of the guy actually hitting on him.

“Um,” Phil stammered, “I’m not … I’m not really supposed to talk to guests … when I’m out of costume.” He was blushing again, and he cursed his fair skin for giving him away.

The guy leaned close and said quietly, “What if we go somewhere where people won’t see us?” He smirked.

Phil looked around, then walked toward one of the buildings that housed supplies, then ducked behind it so that he and the boy—who had eagerly followed him—were hidden between the wall and the nearby foliage. With the sun going down and the park beginning to get a little dark, there was very little chance anyone would see them here. But he could still see the beautiful boy in the dimming light.

“I’m Dan,” his beautiful heckler said, and then he leaned in to kiss Phil, just like that.

“Whoa!” exclaimed Phil, pulling away slightly. “I mean … what are you…”

Dan raised his eyebrow again, just as he had when their eyes first met hours ago and he asked smugly, “You don’t want to?” And Phil found himself numbly shaking his head.

“No,” Phil rasped out, his voice exhausted after a day of greeting strangers, then laughed a little. “I mean yes.” And then he smiled his first real, honest smile of the day, and Dan kissed him again, this time with a much more enthusiastic response from Phil.

Phil didn’t even know how long they’d been kissing when he felt Dan’s hands slide underneath the back of his t-shirt, stroking the bare skin of his spine. Phil gasped, and his head fell back slightly at the incredible unexpected pleasure.

“I can get away tonight if you want to … you know … meet up and … do something. Together,” Dan suggested awkwardly, kissing the notch at the base of Phil’s throat and then flicking his tongue out against the sensitive skin there to make Phil moan.

Phil lowered his head to look into Dan’s eyes. “I don’t even know who you are,” Phil protested. “Why are you in California? How long are you here? Are you a student, or do you have a job, or…”

Dan asked wryly, “You don’t really care about any of that, do you? Really?”

But Phil shook his head, then nodded, confused. “No. Yes. I do. I don’t just … do this.”

Dan raised that damned eyebrow again. “You don’t? Because, you know, you could. You could pull almost anybody you wanted. You’re fucking gorgeous, you know. Even better out of that ridiculous costume.” He ran his hands through Phil’s damp, freshly showered hair. “And I like your hair better like this. It looked like plastic before, but it’s actually really soft.” Then he stroked his hands through Phil’s hair to the back of his head and reeled him in for another kiss. He pulled away slightly and whispered, “My family’s here on holiday.” Then he kissed Phil again before breathing against his lips, “I’m on my gap year.” Another kiss, longer this time, his tongue stroking against Phil’s in a maddening caress before he slowly pulled away to kiss the side of Phil’s neck and murmur against it, “And we’re in town for another week. During which time I really really hope I’ll see a lot more of you.” He pulled away to look Phil up and down before blatantly licking his lips. “And I do mean that in every sense.”

Phil leaned back against the wall of the outbuilding, breathing heavily. “Jesus. Do you do this on every vacation? Everywhere you go? Just find some stranger and pull him into a corner and suggest…” He shook his head slightly, not sure how to finish that sentence. Because what exactly was Dan suggesting? Quite a bit, if Phil wasn’t mistaken.

Dan sighed and leaned away slightly. “Do we really have to have this conversation? Because … no. No, I’ve actually never just dragged someone off into the bushes like this before, but I feel like … I don’t know. Both of us being from England, and meeting here, and the way you looked at me, and the shivers I got…”

Phil interrupted him. “You got shivers?”

“Didn’t you?” Dan asked, and for the first time he sounded a little uncertain.

“Yeah,” Phil admitted with a slow grin, finally feeling a little more confident. “But I thought it was just me.”

“It wasn’t just you,” Dan replied. “It was like … an electric shock. Like fate or something, meeting you here. I feel like I’ve known you forever, almost from the first moment our eyes met. I can’t explain it.” He breathed out a sort of frustrated sigh. “Are you really going to make me say all this sappy stuff, or can we just kiss some more, and maybe make plans to meet up later?” He swallowed, then looked at Dan with those warm brown eyes, and they looked happy, which made Phil happy, too. “Because I’d really like to meet up later,” Dan whispered, like it was a secret, then leaned forward to kiss Phil again.

They kissed for a long while, Dan pressing up against Phil, pressing him up against the wall so that Phil could feel that Dan was just as hard as he was. “Won’t your family be looking for you?” Phil gasped, reluctantly pulling his lips away from Dan’s.

“I told them I’d meet them at the front gate after the fireworks,” Dan purred. “There will be fireworks, won’t there?” And he slid his hand down to stroke the front of Phil’s jeans, making Phil groan.

“Yes,” Phil gasped, and he didn’t know if he was answering Dan’s question or responding to Dan’s wayward hand. He reached down to press Dan’s hand against his cock through his jeans … and noticed that Dan’s fingers were shaking. Perhaps the boy wasn’t as confident as he seemed? Maybe they should put this all off. Dan had suggested meeting up later, which would give him time to decide if he really wanted this.

Phil spun their bodies around so that Dan was against the wall, with Phil the one leaning forward to press them together. He ground against Dan once, then once again, and Dan’s body arched against him with obvious pleasure. “There’ll be fireworks if you want them. I promise. But not here,” Phil said firmly. Then he frowned. “I mean, there will be fireworks here. There are fireworks here every night during the summer. But not these kinds of fireworks.” And he ground his hips against Dan’s again, and Dan was the one gasping now. Phil wrapped a hand around each of Dan’s wrists, then pinned them against the wall on either side of his head. He thrust against Dan again and they both groaned. “Because for these kinds of fireworks, I’d rather have you naked.” He waited to see how Dan would react.

Dan opened his eyes to look at Phil, and the pupils of his brown eyes were hugely dilated, though Phil wasn’t sure if it was in response to him or to the growing darkness. Dan’s body leaned limp against the wall, as if he’d collapsed, as if he’d completely submitted to Phil. He’d started out as the aggressor, but now he just gazed at Phil in willing, helpless abandon. Phil leaned in to kiss him again, licking his tongue into Dan’s mouth until the beautiful boy was groaning again, his body tight as a bow, pressing as close to Phil as he could get. Both his hands grasped at Phil’s back as if he were absolutely desperate. “Please?” he begged, pressing himself as tightly against Phil as possible.

“Oh, fuck it,” Phil ground out, and he let go of Dan’s wrists so he could reach down to unzip Dan’s jeans, slipping his hand inside to feel him hot and hard through his underwear with its rather obvious damp spot. Dan had been leaking pre-come while they were making out. The evidence only made Phil harder. “I can get you naked next time.”

Dan’s hand reached between them, fumbling to get Phil’s jeans open with eager hands.

“I’ve never done this before,” Phil laughed as they rubbed at each other there in the hidden corner where anyone could happen upon them.

“With a guy, or outside, or at work?” Dan asked, breathing heavily. He squeezed Phil’s cock briefly through the denim and Phil closed his eyes with pleasure.

“Oh, I’ve definitely done it with a guy,” Phil chuckled, “but never outside, and definitely not at work. But somebody tempted me too much for me to resist.” He leaned in to press their mouths together again and felt the eagerness in Dan’s returning kiss. He slipped his hand into Dan’s underwear and Dan cried out at the first touch of skin on skin. Phil quickly placed his other hand over Dan’s mouth, whispering, “Shhh. We don’t want anyone hearing us and coming back here to see what’s going on.” Dan nodded, and Phil took his hand away from the boy’s mouth. As he pulled his hand away, Dan licked his palm with a saucy grin.

He grasped Dan’s cock and pushed his underwear out of the way with his other hand. Meanwhile, Dan was still struggling to get Phil’s jeans open. Suddenly, Phil wondered if Dan had ever done this before. “How about you?” he asked, then stroked Dan’s cock lightly, not wanting this to be over too quickly. “Have you done this before?”

“Of course,” Dan replied, finally getting Phil’s jeans open and slipping a hand in to rub him through his underwear. Phil’s hips bucked toward the touch, but he’d heard the obvious nervous lie in Dan’s words, and this all of a sudden got even hotter. Not only was he exchanging hand jobs with a stranger at work, but it was the boy’s first time with another guy.

“I don’t believe you,” Phil whispered against Dan’s lips. “I think I’m the first guy you’ve been with, even though you’re…” his words cut off in a moan as Dan’s hand slipped into his underwear and grasped him in a tight grip. “Even though you’re doing fantastic.” Phil bit his own lip in pleasure, then leaned forward to nibble at Dan’s arching neck, giving it a flick of his tongue in apology and wondering if he would leave a mark. He liked the idea of Dan returning to his family with Phil’s mark on him, even if it might not be the best idea. He decided to try to be more careful.

Dan was panting now, thrusting into Phil’s hand as he squeezed and stroked Phil’s cock with an obviously inexpert touch, unaccustomed to this angle. “Okay,” Dan admitted on a moan. “Yeah, I haven’t done this with a guy before.” He leaned forward for another passionate kiss before adding, “But you just … the way you looked at me … and then in those ripped jeans … like I said … shivers.” And Phil felt Dan’s body shiver again, just at the memory. But a moment later he realized it had been a different kind of shudder as Dan’s cock pulsed and he began to come. Ironically, the first boom of fireworks above them happened at nearly the same time, and Phil saw Dan’s ecstatic face illuminated by blue lights falling above them.

“Faster,” Phil urged as Dan’s hand slowed during his own release. Obligingly, Dan sped up his strokes and soon Phil too was coming, his orgasm spurred by the knowledge that they could be caught at any moment, combined with awareness that Dan had never done this before and Phil was his first.

As their breathing slowed, fireworks continued to explode above them, occasionally illuminating their faces with a variety of different colors as they stared at each other. Phil hadn’t hoped for anything more than maybe a glimpse of the dimpled heckler, and he now guessed that Dan had probably hoped for nothing more than perhaps a quick make-out session. They both gazed at each other in wonder, chests still heaving.

“I saw fireworks. How about you?” Dan laughed breathlessly, his smart mouth finally making a reappearance. He was grinning, and his dimples were shadows in the light of the sparkles falling high above their heads.

“Definitely fireworks,” Phil replied and kissed that smart mouth. “And shivers.”

“And shivers,” Dan agreed on a quiet breath.

They lingered, kissing more softly now, their bodies leaning together as if they were holding each other up. Phil noticed Dan holding his hand away from his body and laughed. “My shirt is white. Nobody will notice before I get it home and wash it.” Dan didn’t seem to understand what Phil meant until Phil grabbed his hand and wiped the come off both of their hands onto his NASA t-shirt.

Dan laughed softly. “God, I hope we didn’t get my jeans. What’ll my parents think?” Phil guessed that he was probably blushing, though the hues of the fireworks hid any natural color of Dan’s skin.

“Probably nothing even nearly as good as the truth,” Phil joked.

He stroked his hand down Dan’s body again, making the boy twitch, but Phil merely slipped his hand into Dan’s jeans pocket to pry out the boy’s phone and type in his number. “Call me. Then we’ll see about more of those fireworks.” He grinned at Dan. “Like I said … they’re every night during the summer.” He kissed Dan softly again as he slid the phone back into Dan’s pocket.

Dan gazed at him with eyes deep and filled with stars. “What name should I look for in my phone?”

Phil frowned, confused. “What?”

“Did you just put your name as Prince Charming, or do your friends call you something a little less pretentious?”

Phil laughed and said, “Oh my god. I can’t believe I never told you my name. It’s Phil. My name is Phil.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Phil,” Dan said formally, and then broke into giggles.

Phil pulled away and giggled along with him, seeing his own giddy happiness reflected in Dan’s face as the firework show’s grand finale exploded in multiple colors at once above them. “I have to … um…” Dan stammered shyly. “I have to go meet my family at the front gate.”

“I know,” Phil replied, then kissed him one more time, just a brush of their lips.

“But I’ll call you,” Dan hurried to add. “Phil.” And he smiled again.

“I know,” Phil repeated with a grin, and then gave him one last kiss. Dan turned to walk away, but looked back once before he disappeared into the crowd. Phil smiled and raised a hand, then chuckled to himself when he realized it was the one that was still slightly coated in drying bodily fluids.

When he was sure Dan was gone, Phil turned to walk back toward the employee lot where he’d parked his car. He walked loose-limbed, thumbs hooked into the front pockets of his ripped jeans … and for the first time today, Disneyland really did feel like the happiest place on earth.

19 March 2001

Before Kathleen returned to the little terrace house the next morning, she sent her children to school and bid her husband goodbye with a kiss when he left for the office. “Make sure to stop reading long enough to eat something at lunchtime,” her husband, George, insisted sternly. “I packed you a sandwich.” He knew her well. She could easily get absorbed in a project and work for hours at a time without taking any breaks, and this particular project was far more absorbing than any other she’d ever embarked upon. She promised him, thanked him for the sandwich, and kissed him again. Then, she shooed him out of their house with a smile.

She reentered Daniel Howell and Philip Lester’s silent home as if entering a church, for it seemed to her now filled with sacred memories she could never understand. She could only know the scraps of information left behind in the shoebox on the kitchen table … and perhaps another shoebox somewhere in the house that held Philip Lester’s own mementos, including the corresponding letters from her Great-Uncle Dan. She hoped that such a box existed so that she could understand more of the story. For a moment, she hesitated at the doorway leading into the kitchen, suddenly feeling as if she were invading these two men’s privacy by reading their letters.

But then she decided that, through their letters, their love lived on, and by reading them she kept that love alive. It would be tragic to leave such a romance unacknowledged, shut up in a shoebox for none to see. She hoped she was not merely justifying her own curiosity as she entered the room and sat once again on the chair at the little table.

She remembered well where she had left off the previous night. Dan had been conscripted into the Army in World War II. She felt extremely glad that she knew for certain that he had survived, because otherwise she would have feared for him terribly at this point. But he would not have bought this house and lived here until his recent death if he had not survived the war.

She glanced one more time at the conscription notice, then set it aside with distaste. She picked up the next envelope, which was addressed simply to “Dan” and had no postage or indication of mailing on the outside.

-

19 January 1940

My dearest love,

I am struck to the heart by this terrible news. I am more grateful to you than I can possibly express that you took me aside privately to give me the information in advance, for if I had heard it for the first time when you announced it to the repertory company at large, I am sure I would not have been able to maintain my composure.

I cannot believe that we are to be parted so soon after finally finding each other. Yes, we met for the first time more than a year ago, and yet it feels as if we only truly found each other three weeks ago when you pressed your lips to mine for the first time. An entire world opened to me that I had never previously imagined. Or, perhaps, imagined, but never believed to be possible in my own life.

For you are now my life, my dearest and most beautiful love. It may seem ridiculous that I write you this letter when I shall see you this evening at your home, but I find that I must express my emotions as I sit here, alone, with my first thought upon waking being that I shall be parted from you all too soon. I wish that I had woken this morning to the sight of your lovely face on the pillow beside me, your golden skin bathed in the earliest rays of the sun, but I do understand your need to make household arrangements and come to terms with this situation with some privacy.

I do hope, however, that we may make the most of these meager days before you depart. I know that the BBC has released you from duty so that you may make all necessary arrangements and bid goodbye to your family. I intend to feign illness or a family emergency so that we might spend as much time as possible together, and perhaps make a trip to the north so that my family might see you before you leave, as well, if you wish it. I know that they love you dearly and will be deeply grieved by this news.

I must admit that I am glad that the BBC has released you from your duties, for it would strike me to the heart to playact beside you, surrounded by others completely unaware of our pain and sorrow. I do not know how I shall perform today, myself, with this news in the forefront of my mind. I believe I shall have little difficulty feigning a need to take time away from my work.

Rather than mailing this letter, I will give it to you in person when I come this evening to your home, where we might embrace each other and express all the love in our united hearts.

Yours most devotedly,

Phil

-

Kathleen found herself particularly touched by Phil’s reference to Dan’s face on the pillow beside him, bathed in morning sunlight. She interpreted that to mean that the two men had, in fact, shared a bed at some point before the writing of that letter, and regardless of whether their interactions had been sexual in nature, she was glad that they’d had that intimacy. Especially since their time together had been so short before Dan was scheduled to leave for the war.

She thought of all the tender moments she had shared with her husband over the years, all those early mornings of sleepy smiles and gentle kisses. And then she remembered that although Dan and Phil may have had only a short period together before World War II, they had apparently had decades together afterward, and she felt tears smarting in her eyes. She was so glad that they’d gotten that second chance.

At first glance, the next letter appeared to be written by a different hand, with a slightly more feminine style. Kathleen frowned in confusion and continued reading.

-

4 February 1940

My dearest,

I know that this letter must pass through the hands of your superiors and perhaps others in the military before it reaches you, and someone may intercept this either before or after you have received it, but I can no longer communicate with you in any other way, and I simply will not be separated from you entirely. I will speak to you by whatever means necessary, even if that means that I chance the discovery of this letter by some officer who chooses to invade our privacy.

If you wish for me not to write to you in such a potentially scandalous way, please do tell me, but know that it would break my heart to be unable to reach out to you until we see each other again. Please forgive me for not quite being myself in this letter, but I hope it may persuade you to allow me this small consolation in writing to you.

I think of you every moment and wonder where you are, what you are doing. I hope that this letter will reach you in Dorset before you are deployed, but I do not know how extensive a period of time you may receive training before you depart. Nor do I know how long it will take future letters to reach you, for I know not where your regiment will be sent. I, who pray little, do pray that the Lord keeps you safe and brings you home to me as soon as may be.

Please write when you are able. My heart aches for you with its every beat.

Your most loving,

Philippa

-

Kathleen giggled. “Philippa”! Philip Lester had signed his letter as “Philippa”! But then her humor dissipated as she realized the very real danger the two men had faced in that less accepting time. Phil subtly acknowledged in his own letter that he took chances with both their reputations by writing at all when he had no idea how many hands would touch that letter before it reached Dan, or whether anyone might open it to examine it for some reason.

Any desire to giggle completely vanished, and she grieved for their need to hide their love from the world. What would have happened to Dan if the identity of his lover had been discovered? She honestly did not know. She hurt for Phil, for his desperation to stay in touch with his lover while they were apart, despite the possible dangers.

Even today, such a relationship would receive disgusted condemnation from many. Many in her own family, apparently. She bowed her head in shame that she’d unknowingly been a party to their rejection of him, that she had not reached out to her great-uncle to let him know that not everyone would see and treat him with such judgment. If only she had known. If only she had known him. But now the chance was lost to her, and she had only these letters and mementos to allow her to know who this wonderful man had been.

The next letter, too, was written in the more feminine hand, but it was extremely short.

-

14 February 1940

My dearest love,

Today we celebrate Saint Valentine, and so I wished merely to send you a short missive so that you know I shall think of you every moment of this day. Imagine me ostentatiously presenting you with flowers and chocolate, if such an image might amuse you. I would certainly treat you like a king if you were here, for you are of course the king of my heart and always shall be.

I have not yet received a reply to my last letter, so I shall not write extensively before receiving your permission to do so. But please just know that I love you with every fibre of my being, and every inch of my body misses every inch of yours beside me.

With devotion,

Philippa

-

The next letter was written in Philip Lester’s familiar hand, however, without any disguise.

-

20 March 1940

My beautiful love,

Your letter made me laugh aloud, and I am glad that my choice of pseudonym amused you so. To be entirely honest, I am glad that you do not feel a need for me to sign my letters in that manner, for I wish my messages to you to be as authentic and true as possible. It pained me to sign my letters with something other than my actual name, but I did not wish to risk your reputation without permission.

Since I now have that permission, I shall state with no hesitation whatsoever that I, Philip Lester, am most devotedly and passionately in love with Private Daniel Howell!

There. Now, if thunder should sound and lightning should strike us, at least I will have spoken the truth proudly, for indeed I am most proud to love and be loved by you.

I have ceased my work at the BBC, for I find I cannot tolerate the place, haunted as it is by memories of you. I could never enter the rehearsal room without remembering our first meeting there. You, so nervous and yet so handsome. Your deep brown eyes when you looked at me seemed to say much, but I refused to build any hopes. No, that is not true, for I appreciated your spirit and did develop hope of earning your friendship. Remember when we both said that we would prefer the role of Puck? I knew then that you were a kindred spirit, but I could never have guessed to what extent that could be true.

So I now spend my days haunting the house, with Gemma fussing over me and Mrs. Jameson baking a ridiculous number of cakes in hopes of tempting my palate, for I have little interest in food. I believe I shall go north for a time to seek solace in the bosom of my family. And then I know not what I shall do. I miss you so abominably! I cannot bear it.

Yours most devotedly,

Phil

-

Kathleen read several such moving letters, with Phil expressing increasingly desperate longing for Dan and grief at his absence. Then she reached the letter she had been expecting, for she remembered that her family had always described Great-Uncle Dan as living with “a fellow Army pensioner” to save money.

-

23 May 1940

My dearest, most beautiful love,

Please do not be angry with me. I simply cannot sit here in safety while you are abroad fighting for all that is right and just. You may not have chosen your fate, you may have been conscripted to fight this war, but I now choose to fight it with you. Though we may not be together, in a way we shall, for we shall be fighting for the same righteous cause.

Again, I plead with you not to chide me for this decision. This is the best way for me to feel close to you, to feel as if we are in some way together even if it is not in a physical sense. At least we may be together in purpose, part of the same endeavor for freedom not only for ourselves but also for all folk in the oppressed and ravaged corners of the world.

I once told you that I was a coward, that I would run from any fight and trip over my own feet while doing so. Today I choose to be Errol Flynn, instead, though I must admit that I have not chosen the cavalry, for obvious equine-related reasons.

Please forgive me and wish me well. My thoughts and prayers are always with you—for, yes, my constant fears for your safety have induced me to take up frequent prayer.

Yours always and forever,

Phil

-

The next few items in the box were birthday cards addressed to various international addresses. It was apparent that no one knew exactly where his regiment was located, but they had all apparently reached him through the various channels of the military.

One card appeared to be from his mother. On the cover, it only said, “Happy Birthday to My Son,” and on the inside it was signed merely, “Be safe, Mum.” Thinking on it, Kathleen realized that this bland—perhaps even cold—message had come from her own great-grandmother. Kathleen had never known her well, as she died when Kathleen was still young, but Kathleen found herself now wondering if the woman had held everyone at such a distance or whether it had only been the son she disapproved of, the one who lived with “a fellow Army pensioner.”

There was a card from Phil, of course, with the usual sentimental avowals but no mention of his Army situation. Another card, however, appeared to be from Phil’s family, signed by all of them (including a squiggle presumably from the very young Steven), which contained a letter from Phil’s mother.

-

1 June 1940

Our dear Daniel,

I do not know if this card will reach you by your birthday, but I can only hope that it shall. Please know that we will all be thinking of you on that day, and that our hopes for your safety endure not only then but on every day of the year.

I hope you will be able to forgive our beloved Philip for his decision to join the Army. He did so only to feel closer to you, but I know it also pleases him to feel that he may be helping others, as he has always been such a kind and gentle boy. He may not have told you, but he is to be given the rank of Captain, and will be working in translation, as he is fluent in both French and German, so you needn’t fear him falling prey to violence on the front lines. We know that you, however, face true peril every day, and we fear for you so much that we cannot help but understand Philip’s decision, knowing that the extremity of his own feelings for you must be so much greater than our own.

Instead of dwelling on the dangers of today, I would invite you to remember when you spent your birthday with us last year. You boys had so much fun messing about in the river and playing badminton in the garden. I remember you strolling through the trees and along the hillsides with Philip, the two of you so engaged in conversation that you needed no other company. And you were so sweet with young Steven.

I remember with great pleasure how surprised and delighted you were by the extravagance of a Pimm’s Cup when we brought them out on the evening of your birthday. On your birthday this year, wherever you are, I hope you will remember those broad snifters filled with colorful fruits and delicious liqueur that we all drank together in the back garden in the sunshine. Remember how we all raised our glasses to toast the anniversary of your birth, and know that we will be toasting you this year, as well. We all look forward to doing so with you again upon your safe return.

With all good wishes and affection,

Kathryn Lester

-

The next letter was another from Phil, and a photograph fell out of the envelope when Kathleen opened it. The black-and-white photo showed a handsome young man, tall and slim, dressed in military uniform, standing beside a motorcycle. He had a winsome smile upon his face and one hand resting on the motorcycle’s handlebar.

-

8 July 1940

My most beloved Daniel,

I hope you do not blame me excessively for writing less often than I would like. My duties keep me quite busy, but I think of you every day and hope for your safety. Every letter I receive from you is a balm to my heart.

I enclose a photograph of myself with my new motorcycle. I greatly enjoy riding it about the country lanes on grand adventures with the wind in my face and the motor roaring.

But surely you know that I jest, for I would never ride such an infernally dangerous creation, perhaps even worse than a horse! It belongs to a fellow soldier in my regiment, and I merely asked him to photograph me with it so that I might look dashing. Do I look dashing? Do I look like a man who might have wild adventures?

I should not jest about wild adventures, for I know you face true dangers and not merely fancifully imagined ones. I must admit that I loathe thinking about the fear you must experience. In your most recent letter, you sounded so downcast that I worry extremely. Please write again soon, or I shall be forced to find additional opportunities to take photographs of myself in ludicrous situations in an attempt to cheer you.

I love you more than words could possibly express, but I know you already understand this, for I know you love me with the same enduring intensity. We shall be together again, and when that time comes, I shall never let us be parted ever after, for I will never again let go of your hand in mine.

Except perhaps to allow you to make the tea. It always tastes better when you make it.

I hope my letter has given you a chuckle or two, for I worry about your dark mood. You must keep up your spirits, my dearest, so that you can come back to me and we can spend the rest of our lives making each other deliriously happy. I insist upon it. Promise me in your next letter. Promise me that we shall have that future together when we both return home when this infernal war is finished.

With the most enduring and ardent love,

Phil

-

Kathleen felt grateful, once again, for the fact that she knew that Dan—her Great-Uncle Dan, she reminded herself, since she had begun to think of him as the young man seen through Philip Lester’s eyes in these letters—survived the war, for everyone’s concern for his safety was contagious.

Unexpectedly, the doorbell rang. Kathleen glanced at it, then at her watch. She had continued reading past lunchtime, so she should take a break in any case. She wondered if Bernice had come to visit again. She wouldn’t mind chatting with the older woman while eating her sandwich.

But when she opened the door, Kathleen found a man standing outside. He looked to be around her age, and he wore crisp jeans with a white jumper. He held out his hand. “I’m Marcus Greene,” he said with a smile. “I assume you’re one of Uncle Dan’s relatives?”

Kathleen shook his hand automatically, asking dazedly, “Uncle Dan?”

Marcus Greene laughed. “Oh, I’m not actually related to him. That’s just what we always called him. Phil Lester was my uncle. Well, great-uncle, but we always just called him Uncle Phil.”

Kathleen nodded, uncertain what exactly was going on, but she knew that she would love to talk more with someone who had known Philip Lester and, apparently, her own great-uncle. “I was just about to have lunch,” she told him. “Would you care for half a sandwich and a chat?”

******

They ended up sitting in the two chairs in the garden, splitting the roast beef sandwich Kathleen’s husband had prepared for her that morning.

“Uncle Phil always loved this garden,” Marcus told Kathleen as they sat among the greenery and flowering shrubbery.

“I’d noticed how beautiful it was,” Kathleen admitted. “Was one of them an avid gardener?”

Marcus laughed. “Oh, Uncle Phil loved plants, but he couldn’t keep them alive for long. He always joked that he had a ‘brown thumb.’” Kathleen chuckled. “It was Uncle Dan who took care of this garden. He didn’t care about plants very much, but he loved how happy they made Uncle Phil, so he has multiple gardening books and spent time out here tending the garden, even during the week that he died.”

“You saw my great-uncle the week he died?” Kathleen asked, surprised.

“Oh, of course,” Marcus replied. “I came to check on him every day after Uncle Phil was gone. He was inconsolable. Simply lost without his Phil. They hadn’t spent a day apart for decades, you know.”

Kathleen shook her head. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know very much about my great-uncle at all until I came here yesterday to begin sorting through his estate. I found a box of letters and have been reading them. I really wish I’d gotten to know my great-uncle while he was still alive. And I wish I’d gotten to know Philip Lester, too. He seems like a wonderful man. Very loving.”

“They both were, in their own ways,” Marcus told her. “I wish you could have known Uncle Dan. He was a character.” He smiled in memory.

“I wonder … did your uncle have a box of mementos like Dan did? I would dearly love to read the letters my great-uncle wrote!”

Marcus looked thoughtful. “Well, I’m sure he wouldn’t have thrown anything like that away, so it should be around here somewhere, but I haven’t gone through the house yet.”

“You didn’t go through your uncle’s estate after his death?”

“Of course not!” Marcus exclaimed, sounding almost horrified. “With Uncle Dan still living here? Surrounded by Uncle Phil’s things? It would have been cruel to come in and take things away from him when that was all he had left!”

“Oh,” Kathleen said softly. “Of course.” She felt terrible for having even suggested the idea. “So … we will both need to go through the house. If you haven’t already dealt with your uncle’s belongings, I’m afraid it might be a bit of a muddle.”

Marcus gestured dismissively. “That won’t be too difficult. I can help you sort through everything, since I know which things belonged to each of them … though after all these years most of their belongings really were theirs together, instead of belonging to one or the other.” Marcus glanced at her, then out at the garden. He took a bite of sandwich, chewed, and swallowed before adding, “To be honest, I didn’t think Uncle Dan’s family would care about his estate.” He hesitated. “Or was your family hoping for something that could be sold? I’m afraid there isn’t anything worth much money.”

Kathleen’s face felt hot, and she knew she was blushing. “No,” she stammered, “I mean … they just sent me to deal with the estate, to decide what to do with everything, you know? Decide which things to take to the charity shop, which things might have sentimental value, that sort of thing.”

Marcus’s eyebrows went up. “Sentimental value?” he asked in obvious disbelief. Then he cleared his throat and said, “Oh, I’m sorry. That was rude of me. I just … I wasn’t aware that Uncle Dan’s family felt much sentiment where he was concerned. He never talked about them, and he spent all holidays with us, so I wasn’t even aware that he had much living family.” Marcus stopped himself, then added, “Biological family, that is. He was very much a part of the Lester family.”

“I’m glad,” Kathleen said softly. “I don’t know what happened between him and our family, because no one ever talked about him. I’m afraid…” she hesitated, then continued, “I’m afraid perhaps my grandfather and their parents might have disapproved. Of … them.”

Marcus nodded slowly. “I always assumed that was the case, but I didn’t want to ask. I was afraid it might open old wounds. And he seemed perfectly happy as a part of our own family, so I didn’t want to stir up any possible bad memories.”

“I wish I’d had the chance to know him,” Kathleen said sadly, her sandwich quite forgotten. “And Philip Lester.” She found a smile for Marcus Greene. “And perhaps the two corgis in the photograph in the lounge.”

Marcus laughed. “Oh! Pancake and Nuki! Those dogs were the delight of their lives! They used to take them out for walks twice a day, showing them off to the neighborhood. Uncle Phil always told us that corgis are basically royalty. Something about a dog named Dookie.” Marcus’s face sobered. “They didn’t make it outside so often once the dogs were gone.” He looked at Kathleen. “Pancake and Nuki died just a few months apart. It was hard on Uncle Phil and Uncle Dan, losing them so close together like that. I think it probably contributed to them hiding out in the house more. It’s hard to overcome grief like that, when you love like that, even if it’s just a pet.”

Kathleen nodded. She nibbled at her sandwich. George would chastise her if she didn’t eat at least half of it, and she knew he was right. She took a proper bite and chewed and swallowed. It was difficult to swallow around the lump in her throat, though.

“I can tell they were very loving people,” she said hesitantly. “I only met Great-Uncle Dan a few times and never had a real conversation with him, and I never got to meet Philip Lester at all, but I feel like I’ve been getting to know them a bit through their letters.” She paused, then corrected herself, “Well, Phil’s letters. Because it’s my Great-Uncle Dan’s box of mementos, so it doesn’t have any letters from him, only letters to him.”

Marcus smiled at her, and it reminded her of that winsome smile on the face of a soldier standing beside a motorbike. “If you like, we can look for Uncle Phil’s box of mementos and go through it together. I knew them both well my whole life, so I can fill in some of the context for you.”

“That’s…” Kathleen felt herself tear up, and felt a tear actually slide down her face. She sniffed, and dabbed at her eyes with the piece of kitchen roll she’d brought out with her sandwich. “I would love that. It’s incredibly kind of you, given how my family has behaved.”

“Uncle Phil wouldn’t want me to hold it against you, and I don’t think Uncle Dan would, either. Let’s go order some more substantial food…” Kathleen laughed, knowing that the half-sandwich hadn’t been much of a meal for either of them, “…and we’ll go through their things, and I’ll tell you all about both of them. How about that?”

Kathleen nodded gratefully. “That would be wonderful.”

They gathered up their things and went into the house, but Kathleen glanced back as she closed the sliding glass doors, and thought about all the love her great-uncle must have felt, inspiring him to nurture a garden like that for a man with a brown thumb who loved plants.

******

So, ironically, he chose a chair close beside Philip’s, because he knew that it would give him the least opportunity to stare. If he sat immediately beside the man, he would have to turn his head sharply to look at that sleek black hair, that pale skin, those striking pale eyes behind the man’s trademark spectacles—but if he sat further away, he might possibly find himself staring without realizing it, which would be utterly humiliating.

He looked at the script in his hands: A Midsummer Night’s Dream. He had read it in college, and had even performed it once in the West End, though he’d only gotten the role of one of the “Rude Mechanicals,” rather than Puck as he’d hoped. In this radio production, he would play Lysander, while Phil—with his comparatively lower voice and better established place in the repertory group—had the role of Oberon. He had fewer lines than Lysander, but more gravitas.

Dan pouted that he still didn’t get to play Puck.

“Hello,” Philip Lester said from beside him, making Dan jump. He turned to look at the other man, and maybe sitting beside him had been a mistake, because now he had to look at that handsome face from very close up. Philip was smiling and holding out his hand. “I’m Phil. You’re Daniel Howell, right? Playing Lysander?”

Dan nodded dumbly, unable to force out a single word. This was the voice Dan had heard through the radio in his living room for the past three years, but Philip—Phil—sounded different in person. He sounded less formal, more relaxed, which only made sense. Up until a few seconds ago, Dan had only ever heard that voice in professional radio broadcasts of dramatic productions.

Apparently unperturbed by Dan’s stunned silence, Phil shook Dan’s hand warmly, and Dan noticed how delicate and smooth Phil’s hand was. Dan’s own hands were soft—he’d never had to do any serious work—but Phil’s hand was pale and silky and … why was he obsessing over the texture of the man’s hand?

Dan shook his head to try to clear it and finally spoke. “Yes. Lysander. Right. Hello.” A staccato combination of words that were vaguely appropriate to the situation. Better than he would have expected of himself if asked for a prediction, if he was honest. Then he managed to add with a bit more composure, “Please, call me Dan.”

“Welcome to the BBC’s drama repertory company, Dan,” Phil said, squeezing Dan’s hand before letting it go. Or had Dan imagined that little squeeze at the end?

This hero worship was far, far out of control. He wouldn’t be able to tell Dora anything about the day’s events if all he was able to remember was the smoothness of Philip Lester’s hair and the silken skin of his hand.

Phil seemed to still be talking. Dan tried to listen and not just stare. “I assume we’ll be working quite a bit together. I hear they’re considering doing Oedipus next … just for a bit of light comedy after this weighty content, you know?”

A joke. Right, a joke! Dan laughed, maybe a bit more than was really deserved, but the famous Philip Lester was joking with him! And yes, they would most likely be working together quite a bit as long as they were both part of the repertory, so … Dan would need to get over this hero worship as soon as possible. It would make a working relationship nearly impossible if he was tripping over himself every time his co-worker smiled or made the slightest witticism.

Dan tried to think of something to say, but hadn’t come up with anything before the director called them all to order with a loud clearing of the throat. “Okay, ladies and gentlemen, we start with Theseus and Hippolyta, but you young lovers be ready to enter the scene.” That meant Dan, or rather, Lysander: one of the young lovers.

Dan sat a bit straighter in his chair. He had a fair amount of experience with stage acting, but this was his first actual radio acting job. They’d liked his audition enough to make him a conditional member of the repertory company, but he still needed to prove himself, and this was his first rehearsal.

Phil patted him on the shoulder and said in a low voice, “Don’t worry. You’ll do wonderfully. And, really, Lysander is just a sap, so if you don’t mind pretending to have a lower IQ than you have in actuality, you shouldn’t have any problems.”

Dan laughed again, this time with a bit less hysteria in it and a lot more blushing. Phil Lester had just called him intelligent. Or, at least, more intelligent than Lysander. Which, to be fair, didn’t set the bar all that high. But still … a compliment from Philip Lester. Phil.

Dan smiled at him and said, “Thanks. Oberon should be fun for you.”

Phil leaned close and confided in a hushed whisper, “Just between you and me, I’d rather be playing Puck.”

That surprised a genuine laugh out of Dan, since he’d felt the same way himself. “Me too!” he whispered back, but the director had lost patience.

“Mr. Howell, I understand that you are new to our proceedings, but we really do need a bit more peace and quiet to prepare to present the best auditory theatrical experience possible to our audience, as they rely upon us for edifying entertainment.” Dan wasn’t sure how edifying A Midsummer Night’s Dream was, but he supposed any Shakespeare was good Shakespeare. Then he remembered Titus Andronicus and grimaced. But he straightened his spine, gave the play’s director a serious nod and tried to keep his attention on his task instead of on the man sitting beside him.

“Sorry,” he heard Phil murmur. “I didn’t mean to get you in trouble. I’ll let you focus.” Dan gave him a quick smile and tried not to be dazzled by the swirling pale colors of Phil Lester’s eyes behind the spectacles. Okay, no, the colors weren’t actually swirling. His irises just contained so many colors at once that they seemed almost like the marbled endpapers of an expensive book, including that bit of gold leaf that would make it most expensive.

Dan looked away and stared fixedly at the script in his lap, paging forward to see where his first lines appeared, and they began their first read-through of the script. When Dan got to the point where he read, “You have her father's love, Demetrius; Let me have Hermia's: do you marry him,” he heard Phil snort beside him and felt proud that he’d made the other man laugh with his delivery of the comedic line. In fact, Dan had quite a few lines in the first scene of the play, whereas Phil’s character would not appear to commit his jealous mischief until the second act.

The group spent a few hours going through the first two acts of the play, with much commentary and many suggestions from the play’s director, Drury. Unfortunately, Drury seemed to have taken a bit of a dislike to Dan after his earlier joking with Phil, so Dan tried to stay as sober and solemn as possible for the rest of the proceedings.

******

When the rehearsal had finished, Phil immediately apologized with what appeared to be honest regret. “I’m sorry I distracted you so much! I didn’t mean to make your first day more difficult. I just wanted to make you feel welcome, but I fear our giggling antics may have annoyed Drury.”

Dan loved that Phil made it sound like they were schoolboys caught being naughty together.

Phil clapped Dan on the shoulder in a friendly manner and said, “If you’ll excuse me a moment, I need to speak to Drury before he leaves.” Phil smiled, then turned and walked to the director, who began conversing with him like an old friend. It was the first time Dan had ever seen Drury smile. Apparently he liked Phil. Who wouldn’t like Phil? It wasn’t merely Dan’s hero worship—Phil was just a likable guy.

Now that they’d been released from their duties for the day, the actors cleared the room pretty quickly, everyone bidding each other hasty goodbyes, but Dan found himself lingering conspicuously near the door while Phil spoke with Drury. Now that they were standing, Dan could see that Phil’s suit, though not particularly fashionable, was obviously expensive, very well-tailored and suited to his tall, slim frame. It made Dan aware of the comparative cheapness of his own suit. He followed current fashion trends avidly but, unfortunately, did not have the financial means to indulge his interest. It appeared that Phil Lester found himself in the opposite situation: financial means, but no taste. Dan quickly chided himself for the thought. It felt somehow disloyal, even though he’d only met the man a few hours ago.

Loitering near the door and watching surreptitiously, Dan saw Phil turn from his conversation with Drury, obvious intending to leave, but when Phil noticed Dan near the door, his expression showed first surprise, then pleasure. Dan startled, and his insides turned to jelly.

“You waited!” Phil exclaimed happily, walking to where Dan stood trying to look relaxed in his embarrassing cheap suit.

“Oh,” Dan replied, trying to sound casual, “I just … I wasn’t in a hurry, so I thought I’d wait, just to tell you what an honor it was to work with you today.”

Phil’s pale cheeks blushed, and Dan wondered how the man could still be humble enough to take such a simple compliment so much to heart. Surely he had encounters with admirers often enough, especially at BBC events. Why should Dan’s words carry so much weight?

“It was an honor to work with you, too, Dan,” Phil replied, holding out his hand to shake again.

Dan started to reach out, then shored up his confidence and suggested, “I thought perhaps we could take the lift down together.”

Phil let his hand fall and nodded with a smile. “We should be working together quite a lot in future, so it would be nice to know you as more than just the ridiculously besotted Lysander.” They began walking together toward the lift.

“You believe they’ll take me on as a permanent member of the repertory company?” Dan could hear the eagerness in his own voice, but he didn’t mind letting Phil know how high his hopes were.

Phil’s lips curved just slightly and he shook his head in disbelief. “You really don’t know how good you are, do you? I would assume after your work onstage in the West End, you would have more belief in your acting ability. Surely you appreciate your own talent?”

Dan pressed the button for the lift and avoided eye contact, hunching his shoulders slightly in embarrassment. “Well, radio differs from the stage, since we won’t have an audience’s immediate reaction to inspire and inform our performance. But also … I’m a bit of a perfectionist in my work. I study my lines obsessively, but I still never fully live up to how I want to embody a character. I perhaps set myself rather unrealistic standards, and so I just … it’s like I’m always failing myself.”

Phil put his hand on Dan’s shoulder and looked into his eyes, face serious. “You can’t go through life feeling like you’re always failing. You’ll never be happy.”

The lift arrived and they both got in, Dan regretting the need to pull away from Phil’s hand. Even through the fabric of his suit jacket, he’d been able to feel Phil’s warmth. But maybe that was just the man’s personality, and not his body temperature.

“I’m not a very cheerful or happy person, to be honest,” Dan admitted, wondering why he was opening up to Phil more than he had to anyone, even Dora.

The lift dinged when they reached the lobby, and they walked out into the evening’s sunset together. “You need to find a way to change that, Dan. You really do. You deserve to be happy.”

Dan tried to smile, but he could feel that the muscles of his face were too tense for it to possibly look natural. “I try.”

Phil looked around. “Hey, would you like to grab a drink before heading home? There’s a pub across the road.” Dan hesitated, but Phil cajoled, “Come on. Consider it part of the process of trying to be happier. Wouldn’t it cheer you to have a drink with the famous Mr. Philip Lester?” He grinned at Dan, who laughed.

“I can’t believe you just said that. Do you really think of yourself that way?” Okay, so yes, that’s the way Dan thought of him, but he’d been surprised to hear Phil say it.

Phil rolled his eyes. “Not for a second. But it’s how they parade me around at the BBC events, you know.” He shrugged dismissively. “But would you be interested in having a drink with just some guy named Phil?” He smiled and looked ridiculously charming. The sunset was glinting pink and orange off his glasses so that Dan couldn’t see his eyes. In the pub, the lighting would be better.

He knew he should go home to phone his parents and Dora to tell them how the first day’s rehearsal had gone, but instead Dan found himself nodding.

“Excellent!” Phil exclaimed, and lightly pressed a hand to Dan’s lower back to guide him across the street and into the pub.

******

“I’ll have a Pimm’s with ginger ale,” Phil told the bartender, “and my friend will have…” He glanced questioningly at Dan.

“Um,” Dan hesitated. He didn’t drink often, except tea and coffee. “I guess a gin and tonic?” The bartender nodded and got to work.

Dan and Phil seated themselves on adjoining barstools and their conversation lapsed for a moment.

“So…” Dan began, then realized with a sudden chill of panic that he had no idea what to talk about while relaxing in a pub with Philip Lester the rich, famous, well-dressed radio star. “Um … do you follow cricket?” Dan immediately wanted to bang his head against the bar.

Phil blinked in surprise. “Er, no. Not really. Are you an enthusiast of any particular team?”

“Not remotely,” Dan sighed in relief. “Thank the lord you said no, or I would have had to pretend I knew something about the sport.”

“Then why did you ask?” Phil looked at Dan with amused curiosity.

Dan shrugged and looked away, stirring the drink the bartender had just placed in front of him. “Just … trying to make conversation.” He took a sip, and found the drink bitter, which suited his personal style. He thought of himself as a rather bitter person, not easily prone to the lighter emotions. He eyed Phil’s sweet, fizzy drink and thought it appropriate, as well. “I wasn’t sure what you would want to talk about,” he admitted with chagrin.

“Well, definitely not sport!” Phil laughed. “Sport is the absolute worst! I hated it in school, so why would I want to watch other people do it now that I’m not forced to do it myself?”

“I know! Exactly!” Dan enthused. He’d never heard his own opinion stated so succinctly before.

“So what do you like to do, if you don’t enjoy watching grown men dressed in white play childhood games we both loathe?”

“I … er … I like music,” Dan offered hesitantly. “All kinds. And I play the piano a bit.”

“Really?” Phil looked suddenly very interested. “I would dearly like to play an instrument. My parents hired tutor after tutor, trying to teach me one instrument after another, but I had no talent at any of them.”

“Oh, I don’t have much talent, either,” Dan insisted. “I don’t play well at all. But I do enjoy it.”

Phil took a sip of his sweet drink and shook his head gently. “You have so little faith in yourself,” he chided Dan gently.

Dan gazed into those pale eyes and realized that Phil Lester had more faith in him than he had in himself. It was an odd feeling. But he liked it more than he should.

*******

Author’s Play Notes: In case you aren’t a literature/theater nerd, I thought I’d explain some of the references in this chapter. In particular, I thought I’d point out a few notes about A Midsummer Night’s Dream: Oberon is the powerful but jealous king of the fairies who asks his clever, mischievous fairy servant Puck to pull a prank which goes awry. As a result of this prank, four rather annoying young humans (Lysander, Demetrius, Hermia, and Helena) get duped into all kinds of silly romantic hijinks in the woods. The “Rude Mechanicals” are just some low class workmen who provide some slapstick comedy. Oh, and about the other plays mentioned in the chapter: Oedipus Rex is a classic Greek tragedy (hence Phil ironically joking that it would be light fare after something like A Midsummer Night’s Dream, which is pure fluff); and Titus Andronicus was Shakespeare’s first play, which most people agree was bad (also gross), which is why Dan grimaces after thinking that all Shakespeare is good.

******

Picking up her phone, she called her husband to tell him what was happening. He, too, expressed curiosity and urged her to stay as late as she liked. He would give the kids their dinner and even put them to bed if necessary. “No,” Kathleen objected. “I’ll be home before bedtime, I promise. I just want to read a few more letters.”

“Order in some food,” her husband, Stuart, insisted. “Look on their fridge. Even crusty old men probably have takeaway menus on their refrigerator. Have some dinner, read some more letters, and come home when you’re ready. You can always go back tomorrow to read more. Or bring the box with you.”

Kathleen shook her head, even though she knew Stuart couldn’t see her. “It would feel wrong to take the shoebox out of the house,” she explained. “I can’t explain it, but I don’t even want to move it off the table. My great-uncle had it open here—left it here perhaps the night before he died in his bed—and it seems disrespectful to move something so precious to him away from where he left it.”

“Well,” Stuart replied slowly, “you will eventually have to sell the house. And probably the table, as well.”

Kathleen laughed. “I know. I don’t need to leave it here forever … just … maybe until I’ve finished reading all the letters. Then I can pack them up and take them home. Save them somewhere special.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Stuart agreed gently. He was a good man. “Just make sure to eat something and don’t stay too late. Remember, you can go back tomorrow.”

“Yes, sweetheart. I’ll see you in perhaps two hours.” They said their goodbyes, and Kathleen wandered into the house’s tidy kitchen. All of the cabinet doors were slightly ajar for some reason, so she shut them. Such things disturbed her sense of order, and she wondered why her Great-Uncle Dan would have left the doors open like that. Did he honestly not notice or care? Or had it been some odd personal choice she could not understand? Did he have some reason for preferring them that way?

As Stuart had predicted, there were indeed a number of takeaway menus on the refrigerator. The one on top was for Domino’s Pizza, so Kathleen decided to order from them in honor of this house’s former occupants and their apparent culinary preferences. She phoned and was asked if she would like the usual order for that address, with all the dips. “Er … no,” she replied, and then ordered herself a simple, small pepperoni pizza. She also helped herself to some Ribena from the kitchen, where she found an entire drawer full of bottles of the stuff. It helped her feel more connected to them, as if she were somehow drinking their favorite drink with them. She raised her glass in a toast to Daniel Howell and Philip Lester, still uncertain whether Philip had been her great-uncle’s “housemate” or if Dan had found some other love later in life. She very much hoped that this had been Dan and Philip’s home together.

Waiting for the food to be delivered, sipping her glass of Ribena, she returned to the kitchen table and eagerly picked up the next letter.

-

4 August 1939

My most beloved Daniel,

In my lonely house at night, I think only of you. I re-read your letters and hold them to my heart. I think of the sweet words you have written and wish that I could hear them spoken by your lips.

I fear I am utterly besotted. Will you laugh at me? I think not, for I believe you share the intensity of my feelings, but I sometimes feel so alone, isolated in my inability to speak to you on these topics directly. Every time your eyes meet mine, I feel as if I have missed a step on a flight of stairs, as if I am suddenly falling. And, as when falling, I am not entirely without fear, but I like to imagine my fall ending with me landing in your arms.

Fancifully yours, Philip

-

There were many such papers: some proper love letters and others simple short notes. Kathleen’s pizza arrived, and she began eating absentmindedly, her attention still primarily on the letters from the shoebox. She held them far away from the pizza, however, lest pizza grease stain anything. She would rather risk pizza sauce falling on her own clothing than besmirch her great-uncle’s love letters.

-

18 September 1939

My Beloved Daniel,

Today during the radio broadcast, you touched my hand by chance, and I found myself momentarily unable to speak. You may perhaps be a negative influence upon my career, and yet I want only to feel the touch of your hand again and again. I want to hold your hand in mine and press a gentle kiss to your palm.

With these thoughts in mind, I will seek sleep tonight in my lonely bed and mail this upon the morrow so that I may hope to inspire dreams of you as long as the letter remains in my possession. In truth, I dream of you most nights, and expect tonight will be no different. I hope you also dream of me.

Yours always and forever, Philip

-

The doorbell rang again, surprising Kathleen. She looked at her watch to see that it was now early evening, and she should really leave this work behind and return to her family soon. She wondered who might be at the door, and so went to answer it. An older lady with bright red hair showing gray at the roots smiled in a very friendly fashion from the doorstep. “You must belong to one of my boys,” the woman said unexpectedly.

“One of your boys?” Kathleen repeated in confusion.

“Oh, my, yes. My Danny and Philly. Much older than me, of course, but still my boys. I’m Bernice, their neighbor these past … oh … more than twenty years. Nearly thirty, now, in fact.” The woman shook her head sadly, then reached out to take Kathleen’s hand and pat it gently between her own. “You must feel their loss even more keenly than I do.” And then somehow the woman was coming into the house, though Kathleen could not remember having invited her by word or by gesture. Bernice boldly went into the kitchen and made herself a glass of Ribena, then commented softly, “Oh. Someone closed the cabinets. Was that you?”

Kathleen nodded. “I don’t know why they were all open; perhaps a flaw in the construction? But seeing them all open like that bothered me, so I closed them. Why do you ask?”

Bernice smiled sadly. “It always bothered Dan, too. Phil was always leaving the cabinets open, and Dan always chided him about it. They bickered like the old married couple they were, you know.” Kathleen was happy to hear her hopes realized: It was Phil Lester with whom her great-uncle had gotten to spend his elder years. But the odd woman had continued speaking, her voice quiet and reverential. “After his dear Philip died, though, I came every day to visit poor Daniel to make sure that he was eating properly. He grieved so deeply, you know. I noticed the open cabinets and asked him about it, and do you know what that sweet boy said? He told me, ‘If the cabinet doors are open, then I feel like Phil might still be in the house, so I daren’t close them or face the fact that he is truly gone.’ Of course, he himself was gone not long after. Couldn’t live without his love, I think. They were the closest two people I’ve ever known, those two.”

Feeling a sudden upwelling of affection for this woman who had apparently cared deeply for the two men Kathleen had only begun to know through the letters, she smiled and said, “I’m Kathleen Banks, Daniel Howell’s great-niece. I didn’t know him well, and I didn’t know Philip Lester at all, so I would love to hear stories about them. I do wish I’d had the chance to know them before they died.”

Bernice looked Kathleen up and down and replied tartly, “Looks to me like you had at least forty years of opportunity, missy. It’s a mite late to be regretting now.”

Kathleen blushed, feeling as if she needed to explain herself to a woman she’d never even met before 10 minutes ago. “Great-Uncle Dan was estranged from the family my entire life, and I didn’t even know that Philip Lester existed until I began reading his letters today. My family told me that Great-Uncle Dan lived with another Army pensioner to help pay the rent, but that was obviously a lie. Given the way my family seems to have treated him, I don’t know if he would even have been open to knowing me.”

Bernice put her hands on her sizeable hips and shook her head in disbelief. “Well, of course he would have, child! It was only his own family that wouldn’t have him! Or, at least, that’s what dear Philly told me over tea one time when Dan was away. His mother’s funeral, I think it was, and Phil said it was one of the few times the family would even let him near. But of course Phil could not go with him. Danny never talked about his family, but I know Phil hurt for him.”

Kathleen frowned deeply. “I didn’t know,” she told Bernice. “No one ever talked about him, and I guess I was just busy with my own life, and I never thought…”

“Yes, yes,” Bernice interrupted her brusquely. “None of you ever thought of him. But that boy still had a family that loved him.”

Kathleen wanted to ask what family Bernice was referring to, but Bernice had walked up to a photo on the wall and smiled broadly at it. “Oh, those dogs. They loved those dogs. They’ve been gone 10 years or so now, but sweet Danny and Philly kept their photo on the wall.” Kathleen went to look and saw a photograph of two very happy-looking corgis with tongues lolling in doggy smiles at the camera. “The boys walked those dogs twice a day, every day, and it was often the only time they left the house. They liked their own company, you know—didn’t go out much. If I hadn’t stopped by so often to bring them proper food, they would have had pizza delivered every night.”

Kathleen glanced guiltily at the kitchen table, where her pizza still sat a safe distance from Dan’s pile of keepsakes.

“Oh,” Bernice breathed, having followed Kathleen’s glance toward the table. “Dan’s box of memories. He went through that every day near the end. I can only imagine the things he loved deeply enough to save all those years and bring out constantly during those final days.” She sighed, sniffed, and quickly wiped a hand across one of her eyes. She cleared her throat and added, “Well, I suppose it’s only fair that someone from his family be permitted to read the things he held most dear, though the whole lot should most likely be given to those what loved him when you’re finished.” Bernice gave her a steely-eyed glance.

“I think I’ve been coming to love him by seeing him through Phil’s eyes,” Kathleen admitted. “I wish so very much that I hadn’t lost a chance I never even knew I had. He seems like a really lovely person.”

Bernice laughed. “Oh, he was a crotchety old goat much of the time, unlike his sweet Philly, but that Dan had a heart of gold under all that bluster. I do wish you had gotten to know him, as you seem like you might be one of his few relations that might have brought him joy.” Bernice paused. “As long as you loved Phil equally, of course. There was no Dan without Phil, no Phil without Dan. They were a matched pair, and you wouldn’t have gotten a second glance from your great-uncle if you didn’t accept that Phil meant the world to him.”

Kathleen felt tears sting her eyes. “I think that may be why he became so estranged from the family. I think there may have been family members who couldn’t accept their relationship. That’s my guess, anyway. But I can promise you this: If I had ever gotten to meet the Phil Lester who wrote those letters, I would have hugged him even more tightly than my own Great-Uncle Dan. I feel as if prejudice within my own family stole them both from my life, never giving me the opportunity to know them.”

“Oh, pooh!” said Bernice with a dismissive hand gesture. “They wouldn’t have wanted much company anyway! They liked to be on their own, in their own little world, just the two of them.” She seemed to see something in Kathleen’s face and added, “But if you ever want to hear stories about them, get to know them a bit after the fact, you come visit me any time you like. I live just next door at number 18.” Bernice went to wash out her Ribena glass and left it upside down in the dish drainer. “I should be getting home now. I just wanted to see who was over here, since I saw the light on and got curious.” She stepped close and shocked Kathleen by kissing her lightly on the cheek. “You seem a sweet girl. Come see me anytime you’d like to hear about your uncles, because I loved those boys dearly and will never tire telling stories about them.” She smiled sadly again, gave Kathleen another quick kiss on the cheek, and then opened the door and left without another word.

Stunned, Kathleen sat down again at the table. The congealed pizza no longer looked remotely appetizing, and she hated seeing it so close to those delicate and precious documents her great-uncle had saved so carefully. She put the remaining pizza in the refrigerator, knowing that she would be returning tomorrow and might be willing to snack on it then.

Just a couple more letters, she told herself. Maybe two more, then she would head home. There was still plenty of time before the kids needed to go to bed, and Kathleen didn’t want to leave quite yet, not after that emotional conversation with the neighbor.

-

31 December 1939

My love,

I was, of course, distraught to see you leave so soon after that most precious moment, but I know that you must spend part of the festive season with your own family. I cannot have your attention every moment of every day, no matter how much I may desire it. Please know that you are in my heart and in my thoughts always.

As I write this, I know that I shall see you this evening for our New Year’s Eve broadcast. I will see your lovely brown eyes turn to me and I will know the emotions and the memories behind that glance. We may shake hands or I may rest a hand upon your shoulder, but those small touches contain a multitude of emotions.

We start the new year by turning a beautiful new page. We may find ourselves not in a position to express our feelings as openly as we might like, but we two know the truth and share its inestimable beauty.

Yours most devotedly, Phil

-

Kathleen couldn’t help wondering about “that most precious moment,” and quickly picked up the next envelope, only to find that it did not contain a letter. Or, rather, it contained a form letter with relevant details stamped in ink.

-

NATIONAL SERVICE (ARMED FORCES) ACT, 1939 ENLISTMENT NOTICE Date: 15 JANUARY 1940 Mr. DANIEL JAMES HOWELL

DEAR SIR,

In accordance with the National Service (Armed Forces) Act, 1939, you are called upon for service in the ARMY and are required to present yourself on MONDAY 29 JAN 1940, at 10 a.m., or as early as possible thereafter on that day to:

RINGSTEAD BARRACKS MILL HILL RINGSTEAD DORSET NW7

A Travelling Warrant for your journey is enclosed. Before starting your journey you must exchange the warrant for a ticket at the booking office named on the warrant. If possible, this should be done a day or two before you are due to travel.

A Postal Order for 4s, in respect of advance of service pay, is also enclosed. Uniform and personal kit will be issued to you after joining H.M. Forces. Any kit that you take with you should not exceed an overcoat, change of clothes, stout pair of boots, and personal kit, such as razor, hair brush, tooth brush, soap and towel.

Immediately on receipt of this notice, you should inform your employer of the date upon which you are required to report for service.

Yours faithfully, James Alistair Davies Manager.

-

Kathleen found herself almost physically ill at the phrasing of the closing of the letter. “Yours faithfully”? Among all these letters from the truly faithful Phil Lester, a bureaucratic form from the British Army sending Daniel Howell off to World War II with a “Yours faithfully” made Kathleen nearly lose the pizza she’d eaten earlier.

She decided this was an excellent time to go home to the warm arms of her loving husband, who wouldn’t mind if she cried a little bit over events of decades past.

******