#yolohowell

He burst through the door with his schoolbag in one hand and a newspaper in the other. Setting the former down on a kitchen chair, Phil shrugged off his school blazer and carried it on his non-newspaper arm as he headed upstairs to the second floor of the apartment where his empty room awaited him. He tossed his blazer onto his poorly-made bed and went to open the window, letting the sunlight outside illuminate his small, squalid room. Finally, he loosened his tie and threw it onto the bed as well before taking a seat at his desk, unfolding the newspaper.

He didn’t have to go searching through the paper for an interesting bit of news; for once, the front page featured a story that caught his eye. Rather, it was the picture they included that interested him: a well-known business leader, handsome and well-groomed, was holding one end of a large check and shaking hands with a charity representative, smiling congenially with his beautiful wife and two sons stood beside him. The caption read:

Presenting a check of a million dollars to the British Animal Rescue and Trauma Care Association, Mr. James Howell is shown here with his wife Mrs. Victoria Howell and two sons, Daniel (16) and Oliver (12).

Phil was looking mostly at the older son, Daniel. Dressed formally in a sleek black suit and vermillion tie, his dark hair neatly coiffed, he stood modestly next to his father with a gentle smile. Phil had seen him around in school, as they were both in the same year and even shared a couple classes together. This wasn’t the first time he had seen Daniel’s face in the news either, as his family was often featured in the newspaper for their philanthropy. The Howell family was recognized by all the townspeople as a fabulously wealthy socialite bunch. Their grand estate sat on the top of large, flat hill, encompassing Howell Manor as well as acres of sprawling flower gardens.

Laying the newspaper down on his desk, Phil leaned back in his chair and sighed, his eyes gazing around at his own room, cramped and sordid. What it would be like to have money, he wondered to himself.

***

           “Hey Daniel!”

           Phil looked up from his book reflexively, even though it was not he whose name had been called. He looked diagonally over at Daniel sitting at his desk as some kid approached with a rolled-up newspaper, which promptly unrolled as he thwacked onto the desk. Looking over at the front page, Phil realized it was the same one that he had been reading yesterday.

           “In the paper again, I see,” the kid said, giving Daniel a hearty elbow in the upper ribs. “Rich kid perks, am I right?” His laugh was boisterous and obnoxious but Daniel appeared not at all phased, laughing along as well.

That was the thing with Daniel. He seemed to be able to get along with everyone at school, and he was universally well-liked. There was good reason to like him, of course, as he was well-mannered and courteous to all with whom he talked so that even the most ill-humoured of people could find nothing wrong with him. It didn’t hurt that he was quite lovely in his features as well. He had dark brown hair in a fringe that swept across his forehead, a charming grin and very nice brown eyes. He was a bit on the pale side, aristocratically so, and his school blazer was always neatly arranged on his slender frame. In addition to that, there were his outstanding talents in theatre and literature. He was part of a professional youth theatre company outside of school, and his original plays received recognition at many national competitions.

Conclusively, Daniel was adored by all. And though Phil would be lying if he said he did not ever feel any sort of jealousy in the slightest toward him, for the most part he generally accepted it as what it was. Daniel was a special rarity, transcendent of commonplace people, and to be envious of someone like that instead of appreciative of their existence would simply be pointless in any regard.

Yet somehow, Phil could not stop himself from wondering as he looked over at the laughing boy what it would be like, for even one mere minute, to know what was inside his great, gifted mind, or better yet, to have one like his.

***

           As established in habit, Phil rode his bicycle to and from school following the same route every day. He lived quite a way’s distance from campus, but as he didn’t take the bus and he only had a learner’s permit, the bicycle was the best option he had. This did not bother him; he rather enjoyed the time he spent on his bicycle when he could observe the world around him, not having to talk to anyone but himself.

           However, today, as he was riding back from school, Phil found out that his route had been suddenly closed off. There had been a serious fire downtown, so it appeared, and the area had been blocked off for safety. With no other choice but to take a detour, Phil turned left and prepared to reorient himself from there. His usual route took him through the town’s center, where different shops and the post could be found, but this new route instead skimmed the outskirts of town, where Howell Manor was located.

           After about half an hour of nonstop biking along the gently sloping path, the mansion came into view. It was a three-storied rectangular house built in the English baroque style, situated against a backdrop of wooded hills. The entrance, which faced west, was brilliantly lit by the setting afternoon sun, which shone off the gold leaf that highlighted the window frames and accentuated the Italianate pilasters and stonework. Behind the mansion was a large garden, furnished with painstakingly maintained hedges and a multitude of variegated flowers without a single petal out of place. Rather unusually for private property of such size, Howell Manor was not enclosed by any gate, though for the most part the estate was left alone in its solitary magnificence.

           Phil, too, was prepared to let the manor alone and continue on his way back home until a flash of movement suddenly caught his eye. He put his foot down to stop the bike and turned to see something — or someone, rather — hurriedly making their way up the hill toward the back gardens. The trespasser seemed to be a young male, likely a teenager. This notion was supported by the clothes he wore, namely the collared shirt and dark trousers of a secondary school uniform. He also carried a black satchel which, along with his clothes, was stained with dirt. He was scrambling up the grassy slope clutching the school bag to his chest, and he kept stopping to check his surroundings, looking very much in fear of being spotted.

           Standing up from his bike and taking a couple steps toward the trespasser, Phil strained his eyes to see better. By now, the mysterious character had made it to the top of the hill and approached the back entrance of the gardens. Hesitating, he turned around and looked out in the direction of the sun, squinting his eyes. Looking at his face, Phil suddenly realized that this trespasser was none other than Daniel.

           As Daniel turned back toward the gardens and disappeared among the hedges, Phil stood there on the edge of the road in wonder. What could he possibly be doing that required such furtive maneuvers? How had he gotten so much dirt on his clothes, and what was he hiding in that bag? Phil knew that whatever Daniel was up to, it was none of his business in the slightest, but somehow he could not help but feel a sense of intrigue. His most primal senses were telling him that something exciting was afoot. Whether this “something” involved the mystery of the current circumstance or, perhaps, the greater mystery of Daniel’s character, Phil wasn’t exactly sure. However, this did not stop him from leaving his bicycle on the street and beginning the ascent up the hill toward the gardens of Howell Manor.

***

           Tailing Daniel through the gardens proved not to be as simple a task as initially believed. The hedge garden was actually more like a labyrinth, and Daniel moved quickly and without hesitating, to the point that Phil could only catch glimpses of him turning each corner. Thankfully, Daniel didn’t seem to be wary of being spotted now that they were inside the gardens, but Phil still focused on making his footsteps as soft as possible on the cobbled path. They had been walking nonstop through the maze for about two minutes now, heading closer and closer to the center, so Phil presumed. Daniel seemed to know the maze by heart, never making a single wrong turn or running into a dead end. Lucky that it was so, or else he might have turned around at one point and run right into Phil following him.

           That must mean he’s spent a lot of time here, Phil thought, if he’s able to navigate this maze so easily.

           Suddenly, the path they were following opened into what appeared to be the heart of the maze, a square clearing with a small fountain bubbling in the center. Daniel hurried in and knelt down beside the fountain and swung his satchel around in front of him. Phil stayed back, watching from behind the hedge. His eyes big and round like a child’s, Daniel reached into his bag and gingerly lifted out something Phil couldn’t see very clearly. Whatever it was, it fit in the palm of a cupped hand and, based on the way Daniel handled it, seemed to be rather delicate. As Daniel studied it, the light in his face faded away and was quickly replaced with worry.

           “Shit, no,” he whispered. “Oh God, oh no no no no no…”

He set the object on the cobblestones and looked around frantically, his hands tugging at his hair in bewilderment. Now Phil could see very clearly that the object in question had been a mouse — not the kind purchased in a pet store, but a wild house mouse. It did not appear to be moving at all.

“Fuck, what do I do?” He bent over the mouse nudged it gingerly with his fingertips. There was no reaction. He picked it up and pressed on its chest with his thumbs, but it simply lay limp in his hands.

“Please, please don’t be dead.” Daniel watched the mouse for any signs of life, but even its chest was still without any of the telltale rise and fall of breathing. It was dead. Phil watched as Daniel picked the mouse back up, cradling it in his hands, before sitting down cross-legged on the stones. The crestfallen look on Daniel’s face hurt Phil to see. Holding the mouse still in his hands, Daniel leaned back against the fountain and gazed down at the small corpse.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Mouse,” he said softly. “I really didn’t mean you any harm.”

Phil looked on silently. He could see tears begin to gather in Daniel’s eyes, and his speaking became punctuated with sniffles.

“You were a great friend, you know? The only one, too. Thanks for that. I only wish it could’ve lasted longer though.”

The tone of his voice suddenly became dark, like a requiem

“When I finally had some semblance of a friend — for the first time. As soon as I had something wonderful in my life, I managed to destroy it. And I suppose that’s that, then. I’m back to the beginning, all alone again.”

He closed his eyes and didn’t say anything further. All was still save for the streams of tears quietly flowing down his cheeks from his shut eyes. Phil watched on. For any normal person, this would have been the cue to turn around and run back out the gardens, forgetting everything he saw and never speaking of it again. However, Phil could not get himself to run away. Something inside of him prevented him from running that tugged at him and pulled him forward.

Daniel needs somebody, that something said. You can be that somebody.

Abandoning all caution, Phil stepped out from his hiding place and into the clearing.

~~~

“Daniel.”

           Underneath the fountain, Daniel’s head jerked down and his eyes snapped open. From behind the hedges, an unfamiliar figure had emerged and called his name. He sat there stiffly, unmoving, and it took him a moment to blink past his tears and recognize the figure as his classmate, Phil Lester. As they shared several classes together, Daniel was familiar with Phil, but the two of them were not particularly close. Regardless, it wasn’t if Daniel was close with anyone to begin with. Alternatively, Phil seemed to have a good rapport with a group of his own friends, and with everyone else he had no quarrels. But what was he doing here?

Phil approached, his movements slow and deliberate, and knelt down before him. When he spoke, his voice was steady and calming. “Your mouse. Will you let me take a look at him?”

Daniel moved his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Phil simply continued,

“I might be able to help you, but we should hurry. Please, just trust me for a moment. I swear it’ll be alright.”

With that, he extended his cupped hands before him. Daniel glanced down at his mouse and back up at Phil. What was he doing here in the first place? How had he managed to find his way to the center of the hedge maze, and why was he now offering to help someone he barely even knew? Yet Daniel was not wary of him at all. Something about Phil and the way he spoke made him instantly trustworthy. He hesitantly placed the mouse in Phil’s hands. Phil shifted the mouse over to his left hand and began petting it gently from head to tail with his right.

“You see, mice sometimes play dead when they’re scared,” said Phil as he continued to stroke the mouse. “But if you just keep petting him, like that, he’ll eventually come around and — there we go!”

The mouse’s paws began to twitch, and it opened its eyes. In a flash it was back on its feet, sniffing around and peering over the edges of Phil’s hands.

“Here you are,” said Phil, setting the mouse down on the ground. It scampered over to Daniel’s foot and nosed at the creases of his trousers.

Daniel looked into the black, glossy eyes of his mouse. It twitched its whiskers at him affably in response. Now knowing that his little friend was alive and well, he felt the anxiety that had welled up within him seep away. To other people, it might have seemed strange for Daniel to have been so affected by one small mouse. But other people didn’t know of how he had first found the mouse while wandering the fields bordering the manor. Other people didn’t know of how he fed it pieces of apple and bread, or how he spent many an evening simply watching it scamper about in the grass. Nobody knew that, to Daniel, this mouse had been the only sort of companionship he had in his lonely life, and that he had decided to raise it as his one friend in his otherwise solitary world. In fact, when Phil saw him from the side of the road he had been on his way back from the fields after managing to catch the mouse in his school bag. He had gotten his clothes awfully dirty in the process, and he was moving quickly in hopes of sneaking the mouse past his family unnoticed.

Daniel let the mouse crawl into his hands and brought it close to his face, where it nibbled the tip of his nose. He then looked back toward Phil, who had been sitting there watching him closely as he played with the mouse.

“How are you doing, Daniel?”

It took Daniel a while to comprehend the question, for truthfully he didn’t understand it at first. Inquiries of well-being were uncommon occurrences in his life, as it was assumed from his mild disposition and wealthy family background that he was always alright, so Daniel was quite unsure of what to say. Here was Phil, who was looking at him with worried eyes, and the tone of his voice was neither insincere nor patronizing, but kind and concerned. Phil who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere and saved the day, asking him how he was doing and meaning it.

Like a miracle, thought Daniel.

He must’ve taken too long to answer, for Phil, perhaps intimidated by the intensity of Daniel’s amazed stare, suddenly rose to his feet and made as if to leave, saying,

“I-I’m sorry, I’m way out of my place here, aren’t I? I didn’t mean to mean to make you feel uncomfortable in any way. I’m really sorry for trespassing, and for following you here, and for snooping into your life when it was none of my business. I’ll be out in a second, and I’m so sorry for bothering you, and I—”

“Wait!”

At Daniel’s cry, Phil stopped. He turned back to face him, apprehension in his wide eyes. Daniel slowly rose to his feet, the mouse squirming about in his hands. He was feeling very nervous at that moment, but something inside him urged him forward. It was the same something that had seized control of his mouth, made him call out, that insisted he needed to stop Phil before he ran off and disappeared. This something took the doubts that flitted about in Daniel’s mind — Phil sneakily following him into the maze, being seen at such a state of vulnerability, his family’s thoughts — and disregarded them as trivial. For this something saw in Phil the friend that Daniel has always needed. It was determined not to let him slip away.

Daniel approached Phil until the two of them were standing face to face. He took a deep breath, looked him in the eye, and said:

“I never got to thank you for what you did. I’m doing much better now, because of your help, and I really appreciate it. Thank you.”

He extended his hand, and Phil took it happily. They shook hands.

“Anytime,” said Phil. The smile on his face was as big and bright as a sunflower. “I’m Phil, in case you didn’t know. Phil Lester.”

“Yes, I recognized you,” said Daniel. “I’m— well, I guess you already knew. Daniel Howell. But please, call me Dan.”

In his fanciful imaginings, he had always dreamt of being surrounded by friends who referred to him fondly as casual, colloquial Dan instead of formal, reserved Daniel. It’s a silly little dream, but dreams have to start somewhere, I suppose, he thought.

“Dan? Sure thing.” It sounded as nice as he had imagined it to sound, simple and humble and familiar.

           “Do you want to come inside? I could use a hand in setting up a place for this guy,” said Dan, gesturing to the mouse in his hands. “Also, if you’re hungry, we have some biscuits in the house.”

           “I’d love to, but I’m afraid I can’t today,” said Phil, looking genuinely apologetic. “Believe me, I’m usually never one to turn down biscuits. But I promised my mum that I’d come home early enough to make dinner tonight.” Dan felt a twinge of disappointment until Phil said, “Another time, perhaps?”

“Of course,” he replied, and his heart was happy. “Here, I’ll show you the way out the maze.”

           Standing by the entrance of the garden holding his mouse in both hands, Dan watched Phil pedal off into the distance. Just before he rounded the hill, he turned and waved his arm goodbye. Dan lifted a hand timidly in response. As Phil and his bicycle disappeared from sight, Dan got the subtle feeling — a slight impression, nothing more than an inkling — that something wonderful had just taken root in his life.

***

           “Daniel!”

           Again, Phil found himself looking up reflexively when Dan’s name was called. Across the sunlit courtyard, a girl approached Dan where he was sitting underneath a cherry tree, a script in his hands. Phil recognized the girl as a prefect in the same year as them.

           “Sorry to bother you,” the girl said. “I just needed to ask you something really quick.”

           “It’s no trouble at all,” said Dan with a kind smile. “What do you need?”

           “So the thing is, all the prefects are planning an end-of-year party on the last day of school, and we were thinking to get you involved.”

           Dan’s face lit up. “Oh! Thank you, I’d love to help. What can I do for you?”

           “Well, we were hoping it’d be possible to set the venue at your house. It’d be the ideal place to hold a lot of people, all the kids in our year, but we wanted to ask you first if it was okay. What do you think?”

           Suddenly, Phil saw something flash through Dan’s eyes. He couldn’t place exactly what it was, but it looked to be something like concern, worry — fear? But as it was gone as soon as it came, and Dan’s face settled on a politely apologetic look.

           “Ah, I’m really sorry. I don’t think it’d be possible to host the party at my house.” He added, almost as an afterthought, “My parents wouldn’t really like it.”

           “That’s alright, don’t worry about it,” the girl said with a trace of disappointment in her voice. “We’ll work it out. Thanks anyway!”

           With that, she left. Dan heaved a small sigh. Phil watched as he turned back to his script and tried to concentrate on learning his lines, but he couldn’t seem to concentrate. Something was sticking on his mind. He could see it in his subtle, terse frown and the blank look in his eyes.

           Snapping back into focus, Dan got to his feet and gathered his satchel, his eyes bright and alert once again. It was only when Dan began heading his way did Phil realize he had been staring. He buried himself in his book and tried to look nonchalant as Dan came closer and closer. Finally, he was so close that to not acknowledge him would have been unnatural, and Phil looked up from his book as Dan passed by.

           “Hey Dan,” he called out. He gave him a friendly smile.

           “Hey Phil.” His eyes were warm and his smile was charming. “Do you mind if I sit here?” He seemed to be a bit more at ease than when he was talking to the prefect.

           “Not at all.” Phil moved over a bit on the bench for Dan, who plopped down contentedly, like a rabbit comfortable in its environment.

“How is your—”

“By the way—”

           Both of them had begun speaking at the same time before cutting themselves off. “You first,” said Phil.

           Dan blushed a bit, but said, “I was just going to ask if you were free on Friday. If you’d like, you could come over and see the mouse. He’s doing quite well.”

           “I’d love to. I’ve got a meeting for the photography club that afternoon, but I can bike over as soon as it’s done. Is that okay for you?”

           “Of course — but isn’t it quite far to bike?”

           Phil shrugged. “Not particularly. I’ve been biking to and from school for a while now, so it’s not too tiring or anything.”

           “Alright, then. I’ll see you Friday,” Dan said happily. “Now, what were you going to say earlier?”

           “Well, I was going to ask about your mouse, but it seems like he’s doing great. In that case, I’ll ask about you instead — how are you doing?”

           “Oh.” Dan looked a bit sheepish. “I-I’m doing good, pretty good. Thank you.”

           “Are you sure?” Phil pressed. “If there’s anything on your mind, don’t be afraid. I’m here to listen. That’s what friends are for, right?”

            Dan smiled shyly. “Yes, I suppose that’s right,” he said, more to himself than anyone else. He hesitated, and for a moment it seemed as if he were about to say something rather important. But then, as quick as it came, it disappeared. He shook his head and smiled. “Thank you for worrying about me, but I’m okay. Even if I’m not okay right now, I’m definitely getting better by the minute.”

           Phil kept his gaze on Dan a few seconds longer, but the boy didn’t quaver. No matter what, he wasn’t going to say anything now. And that was fine, Phil thought. In time, Dan will be able to open up to him, and he wasn’t going to push him if that time had not yet arrived.

           “Alright, but for the future, my offer still stands.”

           “Thank you, Phil.”

           From the school driveway, there was the sound of a car honking. The two of them turned toward the noise to see a glossy, very expensive-looking black sedan.

           “That’s for me,” Dan said, looking a bit embarrassed. “I’m afraid I have to go.”

           “No worries. See you Friday, yeah?”

           “Yeah — Friday. Goodbye, Phil.”

           “Later, Dan.”

           As Phil watched Dan walk away, the clouds pulled up in front of the sun and cast the entire area in a sort of blue shade. Inside his heart, he felt the stirrings of anticipation.

~~~

           As the car pulled away from the school drive, Dan looked back at Phil through the tinted window until he was no longer visible. Sighing, he slumped a little in his seat.

           “How was your day, Daniel.” His chauffeur, hired by his father, asked questions without any question marks in his voice, and every day asked the same thing without any intonation or genuine care.

           “It went well. Thank you.”

           Dan retrieved his script from his school bag and flipped open to the page he had been studying under the cherry tree. The slip of paper was still lodged inside. It contained a messy but highly detailed plan for his conversation with Phil. He had written down several different possible conversation threads and how he would respond to them, along with notes on how to come across as natural and cool. Despite all his preparation, he still managed to sound shy and awkward. This whole concept of establishing a friendship might prove to be more difficult than he thought.

           Yet, he thought, smiling a little to himself. It turned out okay. Phil didn’t seem to notice — or, rather, he noticed but didn’t seem to mind — that I sounded like a blubbering idiot. In fact, if anything, he seemed to worry for me.

           Immediately, Dan shook his head and cleared his mind of the thoughts forming in it. Well, there’s no use dwelling on it now. Friday is four days away. I’ll be prepared by then.

***

           Staring at the tall front door, Phil stood fixed in one spot, unable to bring himself to ring the doorbell. The dark, wooden doors loomed over him imposingly, as if inspecting him and deeming him unworthy to be standing on the Howell family’s doorstep. Finally, Phil mustered up the courage and walked up to the doorbell. It was an ornate, call-in style doorbell that he wasn’t entirely sure how to operate. Hoping for the best, he pressed the largest button in the lower right corner.

           There was a gentle buzzing noise that translated into the sound of chimes inside the house, and after a few seconds Phil heard the static-filled sound of a phone being picked up through the stereo.

           “Phil, isn’t it?” The voice through the doorbell was metallic and tinny, but undoubtedly Dan’s.

           “Yeah, it’s me.”

           “Sorry, I’ll be downstairs in a minute.”

           The phone hung up through the stereo, and all Phil could do now was wait. The front doors didn’t have any windows or glass that he could look through to get an idea of what was inside, but he didn’t question that the Howells’ residence must be just as grandiose on the inside as it was on the outside.

           It must take a while to get from one place to another, thought Phil.Almost like walking from classroom to classroom at school.

           Finally, he heard the sound of lock tumblers turning, and the door swung inward. Standing there was Dan, but he looked somewhat different from any time Phil had seen him before.

           Instead of the white polo shirt and khakis of the school uniform, he wore a loose black t-shirt with an eclipse design and a pair of black jeans. He looked remarkably more casual than Phil could have ever imagined a member of the Howell family to appear, having always seen them dressed to perfection in every photo in the newspaper. Images popped into his head of Dan dressed just to go out and buy groceries, or Dan dressed in a Shakespearean costume, or Dan in pajamas getting ready for bed. It was a sort of dress-up game in his mind, instigated by the strange curiosity that he had previously never considered, which was the fact that Dan wore different clothes to perform different tasks.

           “Phil, come on in,” said Dan.

           Hesitantly, Phil stepped over the door threshold and found himself standing in the entrance hall of the Howell estate. Though he hadn’t been to enough cathedrals to be able to reliably attribute its characteristics to other buildings (he hadn’t been to enough manors to do the same either), the inner hall immediately reminded him of the inside of one. The entrance hall reached perhaps three whole stories up into the air, and the light that flowed in from the rows of windows spotted the polished wood floor. It was truly a magnificent sight.

           Dan bound toward the central staircase right in front of the door, turning around to say, “My room’s upstairs, and I’ve got snacks in case you’re hungry. You can keep your shoes on, if you’d like.”

“No, it’s alright. I’ll take them off.” As he was taking off his loafers, Phil cast a glance down at Dan’s feet to see that he was wearing black socks with little white skulls on them. Cute, he thought to himself. In contrast, his socks were mismatched, one spotted maroon and the other checkerboard blue.

He placed his shoes as neatly as he could on the nearby shoe rack. Currently, there was only one pair of shoes on it, which he assumed were Dan’s school loafers. His family must all be out, Phil thought, and he joined Dan at the base of the stairs. Dan moved quickly and Phil followed along at a similar pace, trying his best to take in all the beauty of the house as they went. At the top of the stairs Dan took a right, then stopped at the first door on the left. He hesitated just a bit, as if he wasn’t sure how to proceed, then said, “This is my room.”

           Then Dan turned the knob and swung open the door. In comparison with the rest of the house, the room had a homelier feel, though it still exhibited an air of formality. The bed was queen-sized and made of painted black wood, and a black-and-white duvet was neatly arranged atop it. A tall bookshelf stocked with English classics organized by book height instead of alphabetical order stood proudly in the corner next to the mirror-less dresser. On top of a vintage mahogany desk, various scripts and textbooks were stacked one upon another. Everything was pushed to the edges, leaving a wide, clear area in the center that was illuminated by the sunlight streaming in on two sides from the tall windows. Finally, Phil’s eyes rested on a glass container with an open lid, like the kinds sold in the pet store for raising fish, and and inside nestled among shavings and small twigs was the mouse.

           “You have a very beautiful room,” Phil told Dan.

           The other boy blushed slightly. “Thank you. Come on in.”

           Dan let Phil in before walking over to the fish tank with the mouse in it. He bent over it and gently scooped up the mouse in two hands before bringing it over to Phil.

           “He looks like he’s doing very well,” Phil nodded approvingly. “And he seems to be quite comfortable in your presence.”

           “I think I spend a little too much time with him. He’s gotten so used to me hovering around. Sometimes I worry that he’s bothered by how overbearing of a parent I am.”

           “May I?” Phil held out his hands, and Dan let the mouse crawl out of his into Phil’s. It ran up and down his forearm, pausing to gnaw at the white fabric of his rolled-up sleeve.

           “Has he got a name?”

           “Well… sort of. It’s not official or anything, and I don’t call him that to his face out loud. But he does have a name in my mind.”

           “What is it?”

           “It’s kind of stupid and childish,” said Dan, blushing. “You’re going to laugh.”            “I promise I won’t. Personally I quite like stupid and childish pet names.”

           Dan didn’t answer at first, then said: “Fine. It’s Pickles.”

           “Pickles? Like dill pickles?”

           “Yeah,” Dan said sheepishly, turning away. “I told you not to laugh—”

           “I’m not laughing, I swear!”

           “He just really likes it when I feed him pickles, so—”

           “It’s very fitting, then. Very cute.”

           Gently, Phil placed the mouse on Dan’s right shoulder. He started a bit at first and squirmed as the tiny feet scratched against his neck, but when Pickles began nibbling at his earlobe, he could not help but laugh. It was a genuine laugh; it hatched from an egg in his heart and flew out through his mouth, like a bird. It was the first time Phil had ever heard it. He took a moment to take in the image he saw before him: Dan, standing in his bedroom, wearing his casual clothes, a mouse on his shoulder, relaxed and free, laughing. Standing before Phil as he was, the Dan that was seen in school seemed like an animal in captivity, a doll with a drawn-on smile that walked and talked and moved its lips without any heart in its actions.

           Suddenly, there was the distant sound of the front door opening and slamming shut, followed by the sound of loud, quick footsteps heading up the stairs.

           “Who is that?” Phil asked, but Dan didn’t hear. As soon as he heard the door open, he had dropped Pickles back in his tank and headed out the door. Phil was about to follow, but stopped behind the door when he heard Dan speaking.

           “Oliver, I thought you were supposed to be at football today.”

           “It’s raining. Practice got canceled. Fuck off.”

           Cautiously, Phil peered around the corner. Dan was talking to a younger boy whom Phil recognized from the newspaper photographs to be his younger brother. Oliver was shorter than Dan by about a head and face that made up for lack of height with twofold belligerence. He strode away toward what Phil assumed to be his own room farther down the hall and without any further acknowledgement toward Dan, entered and slammed the door shut.

           Dan quickly retreated back into his own room. Phil followed, gently sliding the door shut.

           “I’m sorry you had to see that,” said Dan. “I tried to pick a day that he wouldn’t be around, but I guess that didn’t work out too great. You can probably tell we’re not on the best of terms.”

           “No, don’t apologize, Dan.”

“I feel like I have to. He was awfully rude.”

“Not directly to me. I swear, I’m not offended or anything. You don’t have to be sorry about your brother.”

Dan was silent for a bit, and Phil sensed the gears in his mind turning. Suddenly he opened the door and headed out.

“Excuse me for a minute, Phil. I just want to try talking to him for a second.”

Phil stood by the door as Dan approached his brother’s door. He took a quick, deep breath to gather himself, then firmly knocked on the door, calling: “Oliver, are you listening?”

There was no response. Dan, slightly irritated, knocked once again. “Oliver! Oliver!”

From behind the door, there seemed to be the sound of shuffling. Finally, Oliver replied, “What do you want, asshole?”

But something was strange about the way he said it. The words were slightly slurred, and it sounded much more mellow than the voice that Phil had heard earlier. Dan seemed to sense this too, and immediately grabbed the knob and opened the door. By this time, Phil had left from where he had been waiting and was standing beside him hesitantly. So he was also right there to see what Dan saw when he swung open the door.

Before he even saw anything, Phil was hit with a strange, unfamiliar scent accompanied by a billowing cloud of smoke. He coughed a bit and waved the smoke away, and as the clouds parted they revealed Oliver, lying supine on his bed with a joint dangling from between his fingers. Dan briskly made his way over to Oliver and shook him.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“What, are you blind or something? What does this look like to you?”

Oliver carelessly jabbed the joint at Dan’s face. Dan swatted his arm away.

“I thought we agreed that you’d only smoke outside.”

“I told you, it’s raining. I’m staying in here, and you can take it or leave it.”

“You’re getting the smell of cannabis into the furniture, the walls, everything. Mother and Father are going to find out.”

“Do you think they they give a shit?” Oliver took another puff of the joint and exhaled. “They don’t fucking care what we do.”

“Oliver, please, you know I do this because I—”

“Forget it, Daniel. Don’t think as if your good intentions bullshit is going to change me. I do what I fucking want.”

With that, he rolled over and would not be further disturbed. By now the cloud of smoke had become quite strong and intolerable, and Dan had no choice but to leave his brother on his bed and rejoin Phil in the hallway, pulling the door shut behind him with finality.

“Let’s go to the attic,” said Dan before Phil had the chance to speak. “If it wasn’t raining I’d say we should go outside, but the attic will be far enough away. I’m going to get Pickles.”

The two of them returned to Dan’s room, where Dan let the little mouse crawl into his hands from the tank, and silently he led the way past the grand staircase and turned right into a smaller, narrower hallway. At the end of the hallway there was a closed door, and Dan opened it, revealing a flight of stairs. He switched on the light and began climbing, Phil following behind him. The attic was spacious and, despite the rain, was relatively well-lit with the natural light from two large, triangular window streaming in. The raindrops made the sound of typewriter keys against the roof. On the far side there was a vertical portrait of the four members of the Howell family, smiling courteously. The floor was very nicely polished and reflective. It looked very much like a ballroom, which Phil remarked to Dan.

“It is, in fact. My parents usually throw business parties in here.” said Dan. His voice was mostly as it usually was, but rather devoid of energy. “But this isn’t what I meant when I was referring to the attic.”

He walked up to the giant portrait and felt around under its bottom right corner. He secured a grip on the frame and pulled. The portrait swung on a hinge, revealing an entire room behind it. Dan and Phil both stepped through the portrait hole before letting it slam shut again.

“Here we are,” said Dan, switching on a nearby floor lamp. It cast the room in a warm light. This room was much smaller than the ballroom, but it did not feel cramped, but rather cozy. There were a couple armchairs arranged around a circular coffee table, and shelved lined the elegantly wallpapered walls. There were a few bookcases with rows of messily arranged, old volumes gathering dust, cupboards with antique-looking plates and cups and candlesticks among others, and an ornate chest pushed against the very far corner. Two smaller triangle window mimicking the ones of the ballroom revealed a glimpse of the storm outside, and in the center of the far wall there was an unlit fireplace.

           “Forgive the dust, if you will. This room is mostly used for storage, but I really like it here. It’s like a sanctuary.”

           “I like it too,” said Phil, looking around.

           Dan let Pickles down onto the circular coffee table, where he was free to roam around without fear of getting lost, before slumping down onto an armchair, bringing his knees to his chest. He gestured for Phil to take the one next to him, and Phil gently sat cross-legged on the seat.

           “Sorry for rushing you, I just wanted to get you and Pickles out of there quickly before the fumes spread. And I really am sorry about… Oliver. I know,” Dan cut Phil off before he could protest his apology. “I don’t have to apologize, but I should. It must make a horrible impression of my family and myself, the way my brother and I interacted. I hope you can forgive me.”

           “Dan, you don’t have to be like that in front of me.”

           Dan looked slightly puzzled. “Be like what?”

           “You don’t have to wear a face around me.”

           “I’m afraid I still don’t follow you.”

           Phil shifted in his seat to look Dan in the eye.

           “I may not be able to understand what it’s like to be a part of a family with such a recognized name and such an esteemed reputation, but I can guess that it must not be easy. It must be awfully difficult for you to have to uphold that reputation wherever you go, whomever you’re with. And I think I’ve come to see that more now that I’ve spent time getting to know you. But I want to make sure I know the real you.”

           Dan was silent but Phil could tell he was listening, so he continued.

           “I want you to feel like you can be yourself around me. I’m your friend, and friends accept you for who you really are. If anything’s bothering you, I’m here to listen, and I want to help. I promise that. So please don’t apologize, Dan. I don’t need one. I am your friend because I want to be, and you don’t owe me anything at all.”

           Dan seemed rather surprised at first. It occurred to Phil that he wasn’t likely used to having this level of sincerity in conversation with other people. But then, a smile began to grow on his face, and Phil could tell that it was real. It was bigger than the any smile he ever wore in public, and his eyes were bright and alive.

           “I’m really grateful for that, Phil. Thank you.”

           “Of course, and I mean every word,” Phil said gently. “So if it’s not too personal to share, will you please tell me what’s on your mind?”

           Dan’s eyes took on a wistful gaze. “I’m just thinking of Oliver, is all.” He was quiet for a bit, then drew a deep breath. “He’s been smoking now for about a year, and I’ve never been able to get him to stop.”

           “You’ve tried?”

           “Yeah, many times. But he won’t listen to me, and there’s nothing I can do about that. There’s nothing I can offer him that he wants. Or rather, what he does want, I can’t get it for him.”

           Phil found this phrasing to be rather strange, but he pushed that thought aside and kept listening.

           “I get that some siblings don’t get along, I really do. But I can’t help but wish that we did. We used to, at the very least.”

           “When you were both younger?”

           “Yeah. Up until I started secondary school we were on good terms. Or were we?” Dan furrowed his brow as he thought. “Well, it definitely wasn’t the way it is now back then. But maybe even then we were beginning to drift apart. He didn’t depend on me anymore by that point in time. Without my even noticing, he had gotten older and grown up.”

           Dan suddenly stood and went over to the closed chest in the corner of the room, and Phil rose and followed as well. Dan knelt and unlatched the lid, revealing a huge pile of old portraits, papers, and photographs scattered about messily. He dug around for a bit before finding what he was looking for, an old, faded photograph, which he handed over to Phil. It was horribly warped and worn with age, and it looked as if it had sustained all sorts of damage from exposure to sun and water. But clearly visible were two young boys, the taller of the two with his head resting atop the shorter boy’s head, his arms wrapped around his brother’s neck. They were in a bright, grassy field, and they were both smiling brilliantly. It was Dan and Oliver.

           “Sometimes I feel like I’ve been a shit older brother,” said Dan, walking back to the armchairs, scooping Pickles up from the coffee table before sitting down. “I wasn’t there to stop him from going down a bad path, and now he’s essentially lost to me.” He was silent, stroking the mouse with his thumbs. “Phil, do you have any siblings?”

           “An older brother. I’m the youngest.”

           “So you might be able to tell me what to do, from Oliver’s perspective.” Dan looked intently at him, and there was glint in his eyes. “Please, how can I help him? As his older brother, I don’t want to keep doing the wrong thing.”

            Phil rose from where he had been crouched by the chest, holding the photograph in his hands. Dan’s eyes were intense with determination. He sat back on the couch, still looking at the photograph, mulling over his next words carefully.

           “I don’t want to pretend that I know exactly what you should do to make everything better between you and your brother, or anything like that,” he began. “But know that what I say to you is what I believe to be the true, in my heart.”

           He returned Dan’s stare as best he could.

           “Just keep doing what you’re already doing. One day, I promise it will get through.”

           “But I’m not doing anything,” Dan protested. “How will doing nothing help him?”

           “That’s just the thing. You are doing something. By talking to him, confronting him, even reprimanding him — you’re showing that you care about him. That’s the greatest thing you can do for someone, to care.”

           Dan sat very still without speaking, his eyes now focused on Pickles in his hands.

           “And for the record,” said Phil. “I think you’re a wonderful brother.”

           The raindrops pattered against the windows, and there was the sound of a distant roll of thunder.

           “Do you really think so?” asked Dan quietly.

           “I do,” said Phil. Looking down at the photograph in his hands once again, an idea came to mind.

           “Dan, would you let me keep this for a few days?”

***

           They had explored the rest of the attic after that, laughing at Dan’s stern, moustached ancestors scowling in their portraits and pulling dusty tomes off shelves and reading sections out loud. Though Phil had insistently proclaimed Dan, with all his talent in theatre and literature, to be the more gifted reciter, Dan actually preferred listening to Phil speak prose in his calm, gentle voice, accented by the sound of the rain. When it was dark and the rain finally let up, they had headed back downstairs and bid each other goodbye.

           “Goodbye Dan — and Pickles too,” Phil had said, giving the little mouse a boop on the nose. Dan laughed. Phil got on his bike and pedaled away, once again turning to wave his arm in farewell before disappearing around the hill.

           Since then, Dan had been thinking of Phil and the advice that he gave him. It occupied him wherever he was, in class, at rehearsals with the company, even as he lay in his bed trying to fall asleep. The greatest thing a person can do for someone is to care. That thought was the core around which all his other thoughts revolved, and it stayed in his mind.

           He was now once again seated beneath his favorite tree in the school courtyard, the cherry tree with the twisted branches. It wasn’t yet in blooming season, but he liked to sit there anyway. Somehow he felt an affinity with it.

           It’s really quite pitiful how I feel such a connection with mice and trees instead of actual human beings, he thought. Well, except for Phil I suppose.

           He was waiting to be picked up to go to the company for Monday afternoon rehearsals, and unfortunately his chauffeur was running late. It wasn’t as if he minded much, though. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the tree trunk. Being under his cherry tree, feeling the sunlight against his face — it was very peaceful.

           “Dan! Hey Dan!”

           His eyes snapped open and he looked around, bewildered. Speeding toward him from the school building was Phil, his school blazer slung over his shoulder and a manila envelope in his hand. He came to a stop in front of him, double over and out of breath.

           “Whew, thank God you’re here,” he said, panting. “I was worried that you had left already.”

           Before Dan could speak, Phil pressed the envelope into his hands.

           “This is for you. I’m running late for another club meeting, but I wanted to get this to you as soon as possible. The note inside should explain everything. See you later, Dan!”

           And with that he took off again, leaving Dan standing there rather stunned. It was just as well that his chauffeur turned up right then, and, still in a confused state, Dan slid into the back seat.

           As they drove away from the school, Dan lifted the flap of the envelope and reached inside. The first thing he pulled out was a small note written on a sheet from a memo pad. The handwriting was simple and neat, not particularly beautiful but charming nonetheless. It read:

Dan,

           It seemed like the photograph you showed me the other day carried a lot of meaning for you, so I hope you aren’t upset that I borrowed it from you. Enclosed is the original photograph along with two copies of a restored version. It’s not the best restoration, but I made it in Photoshop the best I could, so I hope you’ll like it anyway. One of them is intended for you to keep, and the other is intended for you to do with as you please. This is only my opinion, but perhaps the second subject of this photo would do well to see it.

Phil

           Dan put the note to the side and retrieved the three photographs from the envelope. The restored copies had no signs of light exposure, water damage, or wear whatsoever. The colors had been returned to their original vibrancy, and the outlines of every detail were clear. Phil had done a spectacular job.

           That night, he slid the second copy of the restored photograph underneath Oliver’s door before retiring to his room to sleep. The greatest thing a person can do for someone is to care. Phil’s words echoed again through his mind.

           I’ll keep doing my best to care for Oliver, he thought, but who will care for me?

           As he was drifting off, a single thought rose from the depths of his mind. It shone like the glitter of the sunlight in the water, but he was sinking too quickly. By morning he would not remember it, but it was a single name.

           Phil.

***

           Soon, Phil’s presence at Howell Manor became a regular occurrence. He wasn’t always there just to mess around with Pickles — he and Dan often spend time having study sessions, running lines for Dan’s upcoming performances, exploring areas of the house. They had both serious conversations and light-hearted ones, and their laughter echoed around the walls of the large, lonely house. Sometimes the two of them would not talk but sit silently together while studying or reading or listening to music, and this did not bother them. Many of the best times they shared were silent, when the chaos of their individual worlds could settle in the quiet commune of their company.

           In recent days, if he came back from football early, Oliver would drop in to say hi. Most of the times after that he would disappear into the garden to smoke, but every once in a while, he would stay around. Once, the three of them built an entire system of tubes for Pickles, and for the first time in a very long time Dan saw his brother smiling. He snuck a look at Phil in the commotion and felt a surge of gratitude. You’ve helped bring him back, even if just a little,thought Dan. How can I ever thank you?

           For Dan, home began feeling more like home, particularly when Phil was around.

~~~

           “Let’s go to the garden today,” said Dan, meeting Phil outside the front door. This struck Phil as a bit unusual, as they had previously agreed to run lines today. Plus, Dan never met him at the door — Phil usually just walked in and Dan would be set up with snacks and Pickles in a portable box, waiting for him. When Phil inquired into this, Dan simply said, “We can run lines outside, if that’s alright with you. I just think it might be for the best today.

           Suddenly, his eyes flashed. “I forgot to get Pickles. Just give me a minute to get him,” said Dan as he opened the door and went back in the house. Phil followed him up the stairs. Dan seemed to be moving oddly quickly, looking around with cautious eyes, much like when Phil first encountered him sneaking into the house such a long time ago. On their way they ran into Oliver exiting his room with a small backpack slung over his shoulder.

           “You’re all set?” Dan asked.

           “Yeah, I’m going to Jack’s. His mum even said that I could stay for the night and she’ll take us to football in the morning. By the time I get back it should have all blown over.”

           The boys shared a knowing look between them. Then Dan gave a small nod and bid Oliver goodbye as the younger boy slid down the banister and disappeared out the front door. Phil was now more confused than before. Dan entered his room and returned with Pickles in his shirt pocket, and the two of them began a hasty descent back down the stairs.

           “Dan, is something going on?” asked Phil.

           Just at that moment, a door slammed open and a woman burst from the kitchen into the entrance hall, crying. From the top of the staircase, Phil watched as she stumbled toward the stairs, tripping in her high heels and alcoholic stupor. From her long, dark hair and elegant clothes, he recognized her from photos as Mrs. Howell, Dan’s mother. In this moment, she looked significantly different from the beautiful woman he saw her to be in the photos with strands of hair pasted against her tear-covered face and mascara running down her cheeks. From the bottom of the stairs, she raised her head and stared at Dan. Her jewelry and her eyes glinted madly.

           “Daniel James Howell, where is your father?”

           “He’s not here, Mother,” said Dan, his stance strong but his voice quavering. “He left for the party this morning. The one you were supposed to attend—”

           “Don’t give me those lies,” said his mother. Her words were slurred and incoherent. “He’s gone off again, hasn’t he? Of course he has, that adulterous bastard. Get down here. Get down and face your mother, Daniel.”

           With that, Dan immediately grabbed Phil by the hand and fled back into his room, slamming it shut and turning the lock. He made his way to the back-facing window, flinging the two halves open. Meanwhile, Phil heard the click of high heels against the staircase getting louder and louder. His head was whirling with confusion, and his heart was beating fast with frantic fear.

           “I’m sorry to put you through this, but we don’t have many choices at the moment. When she’s drunk, she gets violent,” said Dan, worry clear on his face. “Can you climb?”

           “Down the wall?”

           “Yeah, using the ivy. It’s strong enough to hold, I promise.”

           There was a pounding at the door and a rattling of the doorknob. Dan tensed beside him, but the door stayed shut.

           “We don’t have much time. As long as we get out of the house she won’t follow us. You go first, Phil. I’ll be right down.”

           Looking out the window, Phil felt a sense of vertigo creep into his stomach. It was a rather long way down. An arm’s length away from the window, however, there was the ivy Dan had mentioned running down the chimney and all the way down to the ground. The vines were thick with age and could likely support him if he climbed down, but he couldn’t help but consider the possibility of the branches snapping under his weight, sending him plummeting to the ground. The pounding at the door continued, accompanied by the incoherent sob-yelling of Mrs. Howell. Phil felt his nerves breaking down. Just what had he gotten himself into?

           “Please, Phil, you have to trust me.” Dan took Phil by the wrist and held him firmly. There was a fervent look in his eyes, shining and sincere. “You’re my friend, and friends trust each other. It was you who taught me that.”

           Dan’s hand on his wrist slid down and met his own. He gave it a strong squeeze. “I would never put you in harm’s way, Phil. You’ve never let me down in the past, and I have to keep up my end too. So this time around, please place your faith in me.”

           At that moment, amidst all the chaos, Phil felt his spinning world come to a stop. It was as if Dan’s hold was an anchor that steadied him, that reached inside to his heart and gently reassured it. Suddenly he realized that he wasn’t afraid.

           “I trust you, Dan. Meet you at the bottom.” Phil returned Dan’s squeeze before releasing his hand. Then he turned around and faced the ivy.

~~~

           After barricading his door with his desk chair, Dan bolted his window and made his way with ease down the ivy, as he had done a million times before. It was slightly more difficult with Pickles in his shirt pocket, and he often had to stop and make sure the little mouse was safe. Phil gave him a hand down.

           “Let’s hurry to the maze, just to be safe,” said Dan as he landed. “Are you okay?”          

           “Yes, I’m alright.”

           “Good. I’m so relieved,” said Dan. For him, Phil’s safety had been his greatest concern as they were escaping the house. His mother’s drunken tantrums were by now a familiar occurrence, and Dan and Oliver had developed their own system of waiting out the storm, so to say. Oliver would usually go to a friend’s, while Dan was more comfortable hidden in the giant maze of the garden. However, this time had been different. Mrs. Howell never left with Mr. Howell in the morning to attend any of the parties at which she was supposed to be present. When Dan and Oliver came home from school and found her passed out in the dining room surrounded by empty bottles, they knew they had to hurry before she woke up in an intoxicated rage. Oliver phoned his football teammate, while Dan waited nervously for Phil, who was supposed to be coming straight from photography club. At the time, he was infinitely worried about the possibility of his mother somehow hurting Phil in her uncontrollable state. But now, however, as he led the way through the familiar twists and turns of the maze, the thought dawned on him that Phil had seen things he was better off not seeing. He was now one of the only people who knew about the “secret” of his mother, what she was truly like underneath the expensive clothes and glittery jewelry. What will he think? What will he say?

           The fountain in the heart of the maze came into view. It was comforting to see it there, bubbling the same as always even with everything happening in the world around it. Dan lowered Pickles to the ground before taking a seat by the fountain, the same place he had sat such a long time ago. Phil sat down beside him, and Dan just noticed how grave his face looked. Everything probably just hit him now, how ridiculous the whole situation was, how ridiculous his friendship with Dan was. How could he possibly still want to be friends? Now that he knew what the esteemed, reputable Howell family was really like, Phil was probably coming to the conclusion that their friendship wasn’t worth all the baggage Dan brought along with his crazed, dysfunctional family.

           Phil was the first to speak. “Dan, I just want to—”

           “I’m really sorry, Phil. I shouldn’t have let you get involved with me. I shouldn’t have let you in the house while my mother was around. I— You could’ve gotten hurt, and it would’ve all been my fault. And now you know— you know what she’s like, and then you must think— that I’m— I’m—”

           “Dan.”

           Phil interrupted him, taking his hand with a firm hold. It was the same kind of hold with which Dan had taken Phil’s hand earlier, communicating the same tethering reassurance. Dan looked at Phil’s face and saw now that the graveness which had occupied it earlier revealed itself not to be anger but concern.

           “Don’t say anything more. Nothing anyone else does will ever affect what I think of you. I just want to know if you’re okay, not just right now, but in general. Really, Dan, I am a bit worried. Are you sure everything’s alright?”

           Phil pressed Dan’s hand, and his grip was strong. There was an earnest look in his eyes.

           “I’m fine,” Dan was about to say, but then he stopped himself. “No, that’s not true. The truth is, I don’t really know.”

           “That’s okay. You don’t have to know,” Phil said gently. He hesitated, before continuing, “This might be a bit personal, but as someone who cares about you, I’m going to ask. You don’t need to explain in depth or anything, but— are you… doing alright at home?”

           “It’s not as bad as it seems.” Dan took a moment to think about how to phrase his answer. “I know it must look as if… as if there’s something wrong. And yes, I suppose you can say that there is, since my mother and her drinking isn’t exactly — well, right. And I won’t pretend as if this hasn’t happened before, as if it doesn’t happen all that often. But by now it’s all manageable. I’ve gotten used to it, really. And if I’m being completely honest—”

           He took a deep breath, in and out.

           “To be honest, I’m just grateful that she acknowledges me.”

           “Dan, what do you mean?”

           “You haven’t met my father yet, have you? Perhaps it’s best that it stays that way. Compared to my mother, he…” Dan trailed off.

           “You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to.”

           “Thank you, I really appreciate that. I guess to sum it up, I can’t say that I’m not bothered by what happens around here, but it’s not as if I can do anything about it either. This might seem silly, but what affects me the most is just the solitude. No, not even that. I’m used to being alone. I guess what I really mean is the feeling of going through it all without anyone there to support you. When I’ve had lousy days at school or if I’m struggling or even if I’ve done something well, they’re not there to share it with me. They’ve never seen a single play of mine, you know. Not Father, not Mother, not even Oliver. That’s the kind of time when you just wish that you had someone there.”

           Dan released Phil’s hand to retrieve Pickles, who had wandered near his fingertips.

           “But please don’t worry for me, Phil. it’s getting better. I have you, and Pickles, so I’m not completely alone. You’re the one who’s always been there for me, Phil. I’m not going to lie, I was so sure that you were going to be horrified after encountering my mother — even after encountering Oliver. I thought you were going to leave now that you knew the truth of it all. But you didn’t.”

           Dan leaned back against the fountain and looked up at the sky. It was sunny and peaceful and warm, just like Phil, who leaned back and looked up with him. There, joined in a single solitude, they were two in a universe.

***

           At half past one in the morning, Phil’s house received a telephone call. With his parents away on their separate business trips, it was Phil who had to drag himself from bed to the landline.

           “Lester’s residence, Phil speaking,” he said groggily.

           “Oh, Phil, you’re awake…” The voice on the other end sounded immensely relieved to have been answered, but between the words Phil could detect panic and fear. The voice belonged to—

           “Dan, is that you? What’s going on?”        

           “Yes, it’s me. I’m sorry for waking you. Have I disturbed anyone else in the house?”

           “Don’t worry about it. And no, my parents are out.”

           “Thank God. Okay.” Phil heard him let out a shaky breath. “Can you make it here in fifteen minutes?”

           “I’ll be there even faster if you want me to,” said Phil, thinking of his driver’s permit.

           “That would be great. I’m so sorry.”

           “No, don’t be. I’ll be right over. Should I meet you at the front door, or?”

           “I’ll wait for you at the bottom of the hill. Thank you so much, Phil.”

           “See you soon, Dan.”

           With that, Phil hung up the phone and immediately dashed to put on his jacket and shoes and retrieve the car keys. It would be rather risky taking the car out so late, especially since he wasn’t technically allowed to drive it alone yet, but he figured the current circumstances called for some risk-taking. Locking the door of the flat behind him, he descended the steps in a hurry, found the car parked by the curb and got in. Taking a deep breath, he put the key in the ignition and turned, the sputtering of the engine piercing through the silence of the night. With a steely resolve, he gripped the steering wheel and drove off.

~~~

           The headlights of the car as it came around the turn flashed into Dan’s eyes and blinded him temporarily. He stood paralyzed where he was, shivering in his pajamas against the nightly chill and clutching the mobile phone he had used to call Phil so tightly his knuckles were white. The car came to a stop in front of him, and its headlights flickered off. As his eyes took their time to readjust and the world spun into darkness, he felt a strong grip against his shaking arm.

           “Dan, what happened?”

           At that point he still couldn’t see very well, but he didn’t need to see in order to recognize the voice of Phil. Suddenly, his legs felt as if they were filled with lead and he collapsed with equal parts exhaustion and relief. Phil staggered to catch him and support him back to standing.

           “Are you okay? Please, talk to me, Dan.”

           Despite Phil’s pleading, he did not speak. In his silence, Dan was trying to contain his feelings within himself, to carefully choose the right words to say. He did not want to drown Phil in a barrage of his emotions, and so he undammed his thoughts with caution.

           “I’m better now that you’re here,” he began. “Thank you for coming, on such short notice and so late at night, too.”

           “Never mind all that,” said Phil. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

           Dan took a deep breath. Though he managed to steady his outward appearance, his head felt like screaming.

           “It was just my parents. They had a bit of an… argument.”

           “An argument?”

           As Phil said that, his eyes flickered toward the manor for a moment before returning. He must have noticed how all the lights in the house were illuminated, and if he had simply stopped to listen carefully, he would have been able to hear the distant yells of Dan’s mother and father. Even at the mere thought of it, Dan felt hot pools of tears build behind his eyes, so he bit his tongue and willed himself to stop.

           “It’s not uncommon for them to have these kinds of arguments,” said Dan. He hesitated for a moment, before explaining, “My father, he often comes home late. Not from work, that is, but someplace else. Someplace he shouldn’t be. Sometimes, he’ll come home late from that place he shouldn’t be with… a woman. And she would stay the night. And sometimes, my mother finds them, and sometimes she’s really drunk when she finds them, and then they have an argument, and they scream at each other and hit each other and throw things, and it wakes us up but there’s nothing we can do but leave them and run away.”

           He had been picking up speed in his retelling like a carousel spinning increasingly out of control, and when he finished he was rather breathless and lightheaded. Phil took him in a gentle embrace.

           “Dan, you didn’t have to tell me everything. If it’s not something you want to share, you don’t have to say it.”

           “No, I felt like I had to,” Dan insisted. “Otherwise it would’ve just weighed down in my heart forever, and I wouldn’t be able to stand it.”

           “Okay,” said Phil. Dan felt Phil’s arms around him tighten their hold, and his anxiety became to seep away, as if Phil was drawing it out of his blood like snake venom. All of a sudden, he felt somewhat silly.

           “I’m sorry, Phil.” His voice was muffled against the taller boy’s shoulder. “It’s always been about me, hasn’t it? That’s hardly fair.”

           “I won’t hear of it, Dan.”

           “I’m being so selfish. I haven’t done anything but trouble you. I haven’t done anything good for you at all.”

           “That’s not true at all. I’ve always thought you were amazing and talented and wonderful.”

           Hearing Phil’s high praise drove daggers into Dan’s heart. “I’m not,” he said, tears beginning to streak down his face. “I really, really wish I were, but the truth is that I’m not. No one in my family is who they really are, and I’m certainly not an exception. And please believe me, Phil, when I say that there is nothing I want more than to be as wonderful as you think I am.”

           “Dan, look at me.”

           There was a sudden solemnity in Phil’s voice that startled Dan into looking up. He was met with an extraordinary sight. He had straightened himself to his full height and set his jaw, and something about the look on his face called to mind the commanding presence of a navy sea captain. There was a fierceness in his bright blue eyes that Dan had never seen before. The sort of look that made you believe that nothing could hurt him, and consequently nothing could hurt you while you were with him.

           “You are wonderful to me because you are yourself,” Phil said firmly. “And you are my very best friend in the world.”

           He took Dan’s hand in his own and gave it a squeeze.

           “You got that?”

           Slowly, Dan nodded and squeezed back.

           “I do.”

           “Then come on,” said Phil, leading Dan to his car. “There’s somewhere you should be.”

~~~

           The more he thought about it the more Phil felt doubts about his idea, but with Dan in the passenger seat next to him and the two of them getting farther and farther from the manor, there wasn’t really any turning back. It was dark outside and Phil suddenly became aware again of the fact that he was driving after his permit curfew without a licensed driver. It’ll be fine, he thought to himself. Just be careful and concentrate.

           However, that proved to be relatively difficult to do. Phil couldn’t help sneaking looks over to Dan beside him, who had fallen asleep from exhaustion against the window, lulled by the gentle undulations of the car through the hills. It was the most peaceful Phil had ever seen him, with his face completely free of the lines that creased his brow when he worried and his eyes curtained away from the reality of his sorrows. It occurred to Phil now, watching the passing streetlights cast alternating patterns of light and dark over Dan’s sleeping face, that a few months ago they had never spoken to each other before, and Dan was just a distant wonder whom he admired from afar. But upon befriending him, Dan turned out to be so much more than Phil had perceived him to be. Behind the veneer of his idealized life, Dan felt pain and suffering and loneliness. He had wants and desires, hopes and dreams, flaws and imperfections, and as Phil became familiar with them, he appreciated the genuine Dan even more. To the point at which his past admiration, which was but a simple infatuation back then, had grown into a true and complex love.

            “It’s a funny thing, Dan,” said Phil out loud, softly so as not to actually wake Dan. “I’m ten a penny. I’m nothing special. Not compared to you, at least. You… you’re as brilliant as the stars in the night sky. The point of the matter is, I’m completely ordinary. And yet—”

           Phil brought the car to a stop beside their destination and looked at the sleeping boy beside him.

           “With you, Dan, I feel like I’m somebody amazing.”

~~~

           After he felt the car come to a stop, Dan blinked his eyes open and it took him a moment to remember where he was.

           “Sorry, I must’ve dozed off,” he muttered, combing at his hair with his fingers.

           “No worries,” said Phil. “You must have been pretty tired.”

           Dan looked outside the car windows at his surroundings. They were in an unfamiliar residential neighborhood, with rows of identical flats lining both sides of the street and round streetlights every few doors. Phil exited the car, crossed over to Dan’s side and opened the door for him. Dan hesitantly got out and went with Phil to one of the doors, which the latter unlocked and pushed open, gesturing for him to enter. Phil began climbing up the stairs, and Dan followed behind.

           “Are we…” he began slowly.

           “You’ll see in a moment,” said Phil. At the third floor, he came to a stop in front of another door and unlocked it. Swinging it open, he brandished an arm and with a note of drama in his voice, announced, “Welcome chez moi, monsieur Howell.”

           Dan stepped over the threshold, and immediately he felt a cozy warmth rush over him. He was standing in the open lounge, which contained a series of sofas and armchairs gathered around a fireplace, and a dining table adjacent to a kitchen. There were books and childhood art and family photos adorning the walls, houseplants occupying every open corner, and a burning candle — “forgot to blow that out before I left” — near the front door that wafted a marshmallowy scent all through the room.

           “It’s not much compared to Howell Manor, but I hope you like it,” said Phil, a bit sheepishly.

           “I like it very much,” said Dan, in awe. “It really feels like an actual home.”

           “I’m glad to hear that,” said Phil. “Come on upstairs, I’ve got something for you up there.”

            As he was walking up the stairs looking at the back of Phil’s head, Dan felt his heart stir with gratitude towards the other boy. Even now, months after they had become friends, he still believed as strongly as he did on the day they met that Phil was nothing short of a miracle. All his life, Dan has felt the weight of loneliness on his fragile shoulders without a supporting family to care for him or friends to turn to for relief. He had grown accustomed to his loneliness, which became a perpetual, dull ache in his soul that was almost no longer felt. But then, Phil had entered his life like a comet crashing through the atmosphere, and the heat of his entry had melted away the ice of solitude and reached his lonely heart. Phil had given him the unfamiliar gifts of kindness and acceptance, and even after learning about Oliver and his parents, he still chose to stick with Dan. With the strength of his compassion, he had showed Dan what it felt like to be loved, and also to love somebody else with all of one’s heart.

           Phil, I can never repay you for everything you’ve done, thought Dan.And knowing you, you would say that I don’t have to. But I want to. For once, I want to be the one who goes out of the way to make you happy. I’ll make sure it happens, so please… keep sticking around.

           Finally, they were standing before a closed door right opposite from what Dan perceived to be Phil’s bedroom.

           “This is for you,” said Phil, and he opened the door.

           Dan peered through the open door at the room and his breath caught in his throat. It was a beautiful bedroom, small but complete with a bed, drawers and bookshelves, and even an upright piano. The bed was made rather messily with a checkerboard duvet, the books were haphazardly arranged on the shelves, and the top of the piano was stacked high with books of music sheets. There were also several photo frames hanging from the walls and on the bedside table showed pictures of young Phil and his family. This was the kind of bedroom that Dan had always wanted.

           “Technically, this is my brother’s room, but he’s long since moved out. You can fix it up however you like, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

           “Phil, you can’t possibly mean to say this room is for me?”

           “I do,” said Phil, and his face took on a serious look again. “You told me about how Oliver always goes over to a friend’s house during these kinds of things while you just stay at the manor. I thought that you might also like to have somewhere else you could go in case you needed to, sort of like as a sanctuary.”

           “You mean, I can come here whenever my parents…” Dan said, trailing off.

           “Yes, you can come here anytime you like. If you ever need to stay the night, or even if you just want someplace else to go and relax or anything like that, this room and this flat is always open to you. I hope,” said Phil, blushing slightly and scratching the back of his head. “Well, I hope that, if nowhere else, you can consider this place a home of sorts.”

           Dan reached out and took Phil’s hand. It was warm like the sun on a field of flowers.

           “Thank you, Phil,” Dan said with a smile. “But I already found my home a long time ago.”

Recipient’s username: yolohowell

Title: Dollhouse

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: dysfunctional family, abuse/negligence, mild swearing

Word count: 13,470

Summary: Phil Lester knew as much about the Howells as anyone else in the town did; they were a fabulously wealthy, socialite bunch after all, recognized by all the townspeople. In fact, their eldest son Daniel Howell was actually Phil’s classmate, who was well-liked, talented, and intriguing in his perfection. However, Phil soon comes to realize that behind the picture perfect façade lies a boy who is suffering.

Author’s note: This is my first “official” phanfic, so I’m sorry if it’s really terrible! It’s also ridiculously longer than it needs to be, but hopefully that won’t turn out to be a bad thing. Hope you enjoy! —MP

He burst through the door with his schoolbag in one hand and a newspaper in the other. Setting the former down on a kitchen chair, Phil shrugged off his school blazer and carried it on his non-newspaper arm as he headed upstairs to the second floor of the apartment where his empty room awaited him. He tossed his blazer onto his poorly-made bed and went to open the window, letting the sunlight outside illuminate his small, squalid room. Finally, he loosened his tie and threw it onto the bed as well before taking a seat at his desk, unfolding the newspaper.

He didn’t have to go searching through the paper for an interesting bit of news; for once, the front page featured a story that caught his eye. Rather, it was the picture they included that interested him: a well-known business leader, handsome and well-groomed, was holding one end of a large check and shaking hands with a charity representative, smiling congenially with his beautiful wife and two sons stood beside him. The caption read:

Presenting a check of a million dollars to the British Animal Rescue and Trauma Care Association, Mr. James Howell is shown here with his wife Mrs. Victoria Howell and two sons, Daniel (16) and Oliver (12).

Phil was looking mostly at the older son, Daniel. Dressed formally in a sleek black suit and vermillion tie, his dark hair neatly coiffed, he stood modestly next to his father with a gentle smile. Phil had seen him around in school, as they were both in the same year and even shared a couple classes together. This wasn’t the first time he had seen Daniel’s face in the news either, as his family was often featured in the newspaper for their philanthropy. The Howell family was recognized by all the townspeople as a fabulously wealthy socialite bunch. Their grand estate sat on the top of large, flat hill, encompassing Howell Manor as well as acres of sprawling flower gardens.

Laying the newspaper down on his desk, Phil leaned back in his chair and sighed, his eyes gazing around at his own room, cramped and sordid. What it would be like to have money, he wondered to himself.

***

           “Hey Daniel!”

           Phil looked up from his book reflexively, even though it was not he whose name had been called. He looked diagonally over at Daniel sitting at his desk as some kid approached with a rolled-up newspaper, which promptly unrolled as he thwacked onto the desk. Looking over at the front page, Phil realized it was the same one that he had been reading yesterday.

           “In the paper again, I see,” the kid said, giving Daniel a hearty elbow in the upper ribs. “Rich kid perks, am I right?” His laugh was boisterous and obnoxious but Daniel appeared not at all phased, laughing along as well.

That was the thing with Daniel. He seemed to be able to get along with everyone at school, and he was universally well-liked. There was good reason to like him, of course, as he was well-mannered and courteous to all with whom he talked so that even the most ill-humoured of people could find nothing wrong with him. It didn’t hurt that he was quite lovely in his features as well. He had dark brown hair in a fringe that swept across his forehead, a charming grin and very nice brown eyes. He was a bit on the pale side, aristocratically so, and his school blazer was always neatly arranged on his slender frame. In addition to that, there were his outstanding talents in theatre and literature. He was part of a professional youth theatre company outside of school, and his original plays received recognition at many national competitions.

Conclusively, Daniel was adored by all. And though Phil would be lying if he said he did not ever feel any sort of jealousy in the slightest toward him, for the most part he generally accepted it as what it was. Daniel was a special rarity, transcendent of commonplace people, and to be envious of someone like that instead of appreciative of their existence would simply be pointless in any regard.

Yet somehow, Phil could not stop himself from wondering as he looked over at the laughing boy what it would be like, for even one mere minute, to know what was inside his great, gifted mind, or better yet, to have one like his.

***

           As established in habit, Phil rode his bicycle to and from school following the same route every day. He lived quite a way’s distance from campus, but as he didn’t take the bus and he only had a learner’s permit, the bicycle was the best option he had. This did not bother him; he rather enjoyed the time he spent on his bicycle when he could observe the world around him, not having to talk to anyone but himself.

           However, today, as he was riding back from school, Phil found out that his route had been suddenly closed off. There had been a serious fire downtown, so it appeared, and the area had been blocked off for safety. With no other choice but to take a detour, Phil turned left and prepared to reorient himself from there. His usual route took him through the town’s center, where different shops and the post could be found, but this new route instead skimmed the outskirts of town, where Howell Manor was located.

           After about half an hour of nonstop biking along the gently sloping path, the mansion came into view. It was a three-storied rectangular house built in the English baroque style, situated against a backdrop of wooded hills. The entrance, which faced west, was brilliantly lit by the setting afternoon sun, which shone off the gold leaf that highlighted the window frames and accentuated the Italianate pilasters and stonework. Behind the mansion was a large garden, furnished with painstakingly maintained hedges and a multitude of variegated flowers without a single petal out of place. Rather unusually for private property of such size, Howell Manor was not enclosed by any gate, though for the most part the estate was left alone in its solitary magnificence.

           Phil, too, was prepared to let the manor alone and continue on his way back home until a flash of movement suddenly caught his eye. He put his foot down to stop the bike and turned to see something — or someone, rather — hurriedly making their way up the hill toward the back gardens. The trespasser seemed to be a young male, likely a teenager. This notion was supported by the clothes he wore, namely the collared shirt and dark trousers of a secondary school uniform. He also carried a black satchel which, along with his clothes, was stained with dirt. He was scrambling up the grassy slope clutching the school bag to his chest, and he kept stopping to check his surroundings, looking very much in fear of being spotted.

           Standing up from his bike and taking a couple steps toward the trespasser, Phil strained his eyes to see better. By now, the mysterious character had made it to the top of the hill and approached the back entrance of the gardens. Hesitating, he turned around and looked out in the direction of the sun, squinting his eyes. Looking at his face, Phil suddenly realized that this trespasser was none other than Daniel.

           As Daniel turned back toward the gardens and disappeared among the hedges, Phil stood there on the edge of the road in wonder. What could he possibly be doing that required such furtive maneuvers? How had he gotten so much dirt on his clothes, and what was he hiding in that bag? Phil knew that whatever Daniel was up to, it was none of his business in the slightest, but somehow he could not help but feel a sense of intrigue. His most primal senses were telling him that something exciting was afoot. Whether this “something” involved the mystery of the current circumstance or, perhaps, the greater mystery of Daniel’s character, Phil wasn’t exactly sure. However, this did not stop him from leaving his bicycle on the street and beginning the ascent up the hill toward the gardens of Howell Manor.

***

           Tailing Daniel through the gardens proved not to be as simple a task as initially believed. The hedge garden was actually more like a labyrinth, and Daniel moved quickly and without hesitating, to the point that Phil could only catch glimpses of him turning each corner. Thankfully, Daniel didn’t seem to be wary of being spotted now that they were inside the gardens, but Phil still focused on making his footsteps as soft as possible on the cobbled path. They had been walking nonstop through the maze for about two minutes now, heading closer and closer to the center, so Phil presumed. Daniel seemed to know the maze by heart, never making a single wrong turn or running into a dead end. Lucky that it was so, or else he might have turned around at one point and run right into Phil following him.

           That must mean he’s spent a lot of time here, Phil thought, if he’s able to navigate this maze so easily.

           Suddenly, the path they were following opened into what appeared to be the heart of the maze, a square clearing with a small fountain bubbling in the center. Daniel hurried in and knelt down beside the fountain and swung his satchel around in front of him. Phil stayed back, watching from behind the hedge. His eyes big and round like a child’s, Daniel reached into his bag and gingerly lifted out something Phil couldn’t see very clearly. Whatever it was, it fit in the palm of a cupped hand and, based on the way Daniel handled it, seemed to be rather delicate. As Daniel studied it, the light in his face faded away and was quickly replaced with worry.

           “Shit, no,” he whispered. “Oh God, oh no no no no no…”

He set the object on the cobblestones and looked around frantically, his hands tugging at his hair in bewilderment. Now Phil could see very clearly that the object in question had been a mouse — not the kind purchased in a pet store, but a wild house mouse. It did not appear to be moving at all.

“Fuck, what do I do?” He bent over the mouse nudged it gingerly with his fingertips. There was no reaction. He picked it up and pressed on its chest with his thumbs, but it simply lay limp in his hands.

“Please, please don’t be dead.” Daniel watched the mouse for any signs of life, but even its chest was still without any of the telltale rise and fall of breathing. It was dead. Phil watched as Daniel picked the mouse back up, cradling it in his hands, before sitting down cross-legged on the stones. The crestfallen look on Daniel’s face hurt Phil to see. Holding the mouse still in his hands, Daniel leaned back against the fountain and gazed down at the small corpse.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Mouse,” he said softly. “I really didn’t mean you any harm.”

Phil looked on silently. He could see tears begin to gather in Daniel’s eyes, and his speaking became punctuated with sniffles.

“You were a great friend, you know? The only one, too. Thanks for that. I only wish it could’ve lasted longer though.”

The tone of his voice suddenly became dark, like a requiem

“When I finally had some semblance of a friend — for the first time. As soon as I had something wonderful in my life, I managed to destroy it. And I suppose that’s that, then. I’m back to the beginning, all alone again.”

He closed his eyes and didn’t say anything further. All was still save for the streams of tears quietly flowing down his cheeks from his shut eyes. Phil watched on. For any normal person, this would have been the cue to turn around and run back out the gardens, forgetting everything he saw and never speaking of it again. However, Phil could not get himself to run away. Something inside of him prevented him from running that tugged at him and pulled him forward.

Daniel needs somebody, that something said. You can be that somebody.

Abandoning all caution, Phil stepped out from his hiding place and into the clearing.

~~~

“Daniel.”

           Underneath the fountain, Daniel’s head jerked down and his eyes snapped open. From behind the hedges, an unfamiliar figure had emerged and called his name. He sat there stiffly, unmoving, and it took him a moment to blink past his tears and recognize the figure as his classmate, Phil Lester. As they shared several classes together, Daniel was familiar with Phil, but the two of them were not particularly close. Regardless, it wasn’t if Daniel was close with anyone to begin with. Alternatively, Phil seemed to have a good rapport with a group of his own friends, and with everyone else he had no quarrels. But what was he doing here?

Phil approached, his movements slow and deliberate, and knelt down before him. When he spoke, his voice was steady and calming. “Your mouse. Will you let me take a look at him?”

Daniel moved his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Phil simply continued,

“I might be able to help you, but we should hurry. Please, just trust me for a moment. I swear it’ll be alright.”

With that, he extended his cupped hands before him. Daniel glanced down at his mouse and back up at Phil. What was he doing here in the first place? How had he managed to find his way to the center of the hedge maze, and why was he now offering to help someone he barely even knew? Yet Daniel was not wary of him at all. Something about Phil and the way he spoke made him instantly trustworthy. He hesitantly placed the mouse in Phil’s hands. Phil shifted the mouse over to his left hand and began petting it gently from head to tail with his right.

“You see, mice sometimes play dead when they’re scared,” said Phil as he continued to stroke the mouse. “But if you just keep petting him, like that, he’ll eventually come around and — there we go!”

The mouse’s paws began to twitch, and it opened its eyes. In a flash it was back on its feet, sniffing around and peering over the edges of Phil’s hands.

“Here you are,” said Phil, setting the mouse down on the ground. It scampered over to Daniel’s foot and nosed at the creases of his trousers.

Daniel looked into the black, glossy eyes of his mouse. It twitched its whiskers at him affably in response. Now knowing that his little friend was alive and well, he felt the anxiety that had welled up within him seep away. To other people, it might have seemed strange for Daniel to have been so affected by one small mouse. But other people didn’t know of how he had first found the mouse while wandering the fields bordering the manor. Other people didn’t know of how he fed it pieces of apple and bread, or how he spent many an evening simply watching it scamper about in the grass. Nobody knew that, to Daniel, this mouse had been the only sort of companionship he had in his lonely life, and that he had decided to raise it as his one friend in his otherwise solitary world. In fact, when Phil saw him from the side of the road he had been on his way back from the fields after managing to catch the mouse in his school bag. He had gotten his clothes awfully dirty in the process, and he was moving quickly in hopes of sneaking the mouse past his family unnoticed.

Daniel let the mouse crawl into his hands and brought it close to his face, where it nibbled the tip of his nose. He then looked back toward Phil, who had been sitting there watching him closely as he played with the mouse.

“How are you doing, Daniel?”

It took Daniel a while to comprehend the question, for truthfully he didn’t understand it at first. Inquiries of well-being were uncommon occurrences in his life, as it was assumed from his mild disposition and wealthy family background that he was always alright, so Daniel was quite unsure of what to say. Here was Phil, who was looking at him with worried eyes, and the tone of his voice was neither insincere nor patronizing, but kind and concerned. Phil who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere and saved the day, asking him how he was doing and meaning it.

Like a miracle, thought Daniel.

He must’ve taken too long to answer, for Phil, perhaps intimidated by the intensity of Daniel’s amazed stare, suddenly rose to his feet and made as if to leave, saying,

“I-I’m sorry, I’m way out of my place here, aren’t I? I didn’t mean to mean to make you feel uncomfortable in any way. I’m really sorry for trespassing, and for following you here, and for snooping into your life when it was none of my business. I’ll be out in a second, and I’m so sorry for bothering you, and I—”

“Wait!”

At Daniel’s cry, Phil stopped. He turned back to face him, apprehension in his wide eyes. Daniel slowly rose to his feet, the mouse squirming about in his hands. He was feeling very nervous at that moment, but something inside him urged him forward. It was the same something that had seized control of his mouth, made him call out, that insisted he needed to stop Phil before he ran off and disappeared. This something took the doubts that flitted about in Daniel’s mind — Phil sneakily following him into the maze, being seen at such a state of vulnerability, his family’s thoughts — and disregarded them as trivial. For this something saw in Phil the friend that Daniel has always needed. It was determined not to let him slip away.

Daniel approached Phil until the two of them were standing face to face. He took a deep breath, looked him in the eye, and said:

“I never got to thank you for what you did. I’m doing much better now, because of your help, and I really appreciate it. Thank you.”

He extended his hand, and Phil took it happily. They shook hands.

“Anytime,” said Phil. The smile on his face was as big and bright as a sunflower. “I’m Phil, in case you didn’t know. Phil Lester.”

“Yes, I recognized you,” said Daniel. “I’m— well, I guess you already knew. Daniel Howell. But please, call me Dan.”

In his fanciful imaginings, he had always dreamt of being surrounded by friends who referred to him fondly as casual, colloquial Dan instead of formal, reserved Daniel. It’s a silly little dream, but dreams have to start somewhere, I suppose, he thought.

“Dan? Sure thing.” It sounded as nice as he had imagined it to sound, simple and humble and familiar.

           “Do you want to come inside? I could use a hand in setting up a place for this guy,” said Dan, gesturing to the mouse in his hands. “Also, if you’re hungry, we have some biscuits in the house.”

           “I’d love to, but I’m afraid I can’t today,” said Phil, looking genuinely apologetic. “Believe me, I’m usually never one to turn down biscuits. But I promised my mum that I’d come home early enough to make dinner tonight.” Dan felt a twinge of disappointment until Phil said, “Another time, perhaps?”

“Of course,” he replied, and his heart was happy. “Here, I’ll show you the way out the maze.”

           Standing by the entrance of the garden holding his mouse in both hands, Dan watched Phil pedal off into the distance. Just before he rounded the hill, he turned and waved his arm goodbye. Dan lifted a hand timidly in response. As Phil and his bicycle disappeared from sight, Dan got the subtle feeling — a slight impression, nothing more than an inkling — that something wonderful had just taken root in his life.

***

           “Daniel!”

           Again, Phil found himself looking up reflexively when Dan’s name was called. Across the sunlit courtyard, a girl approached Dan where he was sitting underneath a cherry tree, a script in his hands. Phil recognized the girl as a prefect in the same year as them.

           “Sorry to bother you,” the girl said. “I just needed to ask you something really quick.”

           “It’s no trouble at all,” said Dan with a kind smile. “What do you need?”

           “So the thing is, all the prefects are planning an end-of-year party on the last day of school, and we were thinking to get you involved.”

           Dan’s face lit up. “Oh! Thank you, I’d love to help. What can I do for you?”

           “Well, we were hoping it’d be possible to set the venue at your house. It’d be the ideal place to hold a lot of people, all the kids in our year, but we wanted to ask you first if it was okay. What do you think?”

           Suddenly, Phil saw something flash through Dan’s eyes. He couldn’t place exactly what it was, but it looked to be something like concern, worry — fear? But as it was gone as soon as it came, and Dan’s face settled on a politely apologetic look.

           “Ah, I’m really sorry. I don’t think it’d be possible to host the party at my house.” He added, almost as an afterthought, “My parents wouldn’t really like it.”

           “That’s alright, don’t worry about it,” the girl said with a trace of disappointment in her voice. “We’ll work it out. Thanks anyway!”

           With that, she left. Dan heaved a small sigh. Phil watched as he turned back to his script and tried to concentrate on learning his lines, but he couldn’t seem to concentrate. Something was sticking on his mind. He could see it in his subtle, terse frown and the blank look in his eyes.

           Snapping back into focus, Dan got to his feet and gathered his satchel, his eyes bright and alert once again. It was only when Dan began heading his way did Phil realize he had been staring. He buried himself in his book and tried to look nonchalant as Dan came closer and closer. Finally, he was so close that to not acknowledge him would have been unnatural, and Phil looked up from his book as Dan passed by.

           “Hey Dan,” he called out. He gave him a friendly smile.

           “Hey Phil.” His eyes were warm and his smile was charming. “Do you mind if I sit here?” He seemed to be a bit more at ease than when he was talking to the prefect.

           “Not at all.” Phil moved over a bit on the bench for Dan, who plopped down contentedly, like a rabbit comfortable in its environment.

“How is your—”

“By the way—”

           Both of them had begun speaking at the same time before cutting themselves off. “You first,” said Phil.

           Dan blushed a bit, but said, “I was just going to ask if you were free on Friday. If you’d like, you could come over and see the mouse. He’s doing quite well.”

           “I’d love to. I’ve got a meeting for the photography club that afternoon, but I can bike over as soon as it’s done. Is that okay for you?”

           “Of course — but isn’t it quite far to bike?”

           Phil shrugged. “Not particularly. I’ve been biking to and from school for a while now, so it’s not too tiring or anything.”

           “Alright, then. I’ll see you Friday,” Dan said happily. “Now, what were you going to say earlier?”

           “Well, I was going to ask about your mouse, but it seems like he’s doing great. In that case, I’ll ask about you instead — how are you doing?”

           “Oh.” Dan looked a bit sheepish. “I-I’m doing good, pretty good. Thank you.”

           “Are you sure?” Phil pressed. “If there’s anything on your mind, don’t be afraid. I’m here to listen. That’s what friends are for, right?”

            Dan smiled shyly. “Yes, I suppose that’s right,” he said, more to himself than anyone else. He hesitated, and for a moment it seemed as if he were about to say something rather important. But then, as quick as it came, it disappeared. He shook his head and smiled. “Thank you for worrying about me, but I’m okay. Even if I’m not okay right now, I’m definitely getting better by the minute.”

           Phil kept his gaze on Dan a few seconds longer, but the boy didn’t quaver. No matter what, he wasn’t going to say anything now. And that was fine, Phil thought. In time, Dan will be able to open up to him, and he wasn’t going to push him if that time had not yet arrived.

           “Alright, but for the future, my offer still stands.”

           “Thank you, Phil.”

           From the school driveway, there was the sound of a car honking. The two of them turned toward the noise to see a glossy, very expensive-looking black sedan.

           “That’s for me,” Dan said, looking a bit embarrassed. “I’m afraid I have to go.”

           “No worries. See you Friday, yeah?”

           “Yeah — Friday. Goodbye, Phil.”

           “Later, Dan.”

           As Phil watched Dan walk away, the clouds pulled up in front of the sun and cast the entire area in a sort of blue shade. Inside his heart, he felt the stirrings of anticipation.

~~~

           As the car pulled away from the school drive, Dan looked back at Phil through the tinted window until he was no longer visible. Sighing, he slumped a little in his seat.

           “How was your day, Daniel.” His chauffeur, hired by his father, asked questions without any question marks in his voice, and every day asked the same thing without any intonation or genuine care.

           “It went well. Thank you.”

           Dan retrieved his script from his school bag and flipped open to the page he had been studying under the cherry tree. The slip of paper was still lodged inside. It contained a messy but highly detailed plan for his conversation with Phil. He had written down several different possible conversation threads and how he would respond to them, along with notes on how to come across as natural and cool. Despite all his preparation, he still managed to sound shy and awkward. This whole concept of establishing a friendship might prove to be more difficult than he thought.

           Yet, he thought, smiling a little to himself. It turned out okay. Phil didn’t seem to notice — or, rather, he noticed but didn’t seem to mind — that I sounded like a blubbering idiot. In fact, if anything, he seemed to worry for me.

           Immediately, Dan shook his head and cleared his mind of the thoughts forming in it. Well, there’s no use dwelling on it now. Friday is four days away. I’ll be prepared by then.

***

           Staring at the tall front door, Phil stood fixed in one spot, unable to bring himself to ring the doorbell. The dark, wooden doors loomed over him imposingly, as if inspecting him and deeming him unworthy to be standing on the Howell family’s doorstep. Finally, Phil mustered up the courage and walked up to the doorbell. It was an ornate, call-in style doorbell that he wasn’t entirely sure how to operate. Hoping for the best, he pressed the largest button in the lower right corner.

           There was a gentle buzzing noise that translated into the sound of chimes inside the house, and after a few seconds Phil heard the static-filled sound of a phone being picked up through the stereo.

           “Phil, isn’t it?” The voice through the doorbell was metallic and tinny, but undoubtedly Dan’s.

           “Yeah, it’s me.”

           “Sorry, I’ll be downstairs in a minute.”

           The phone hung up through the stereo, and all Phil could do now was wait. The front doors didn’t have any windows or glass that he could look through to get an idea of what was inside, but he didn’t question that the Howells’ residence must be just as grandiose on the inside as it was on the outside.

           It must take a while to get from one place to another, thought Phil.Almost like walking from classroom to classroom at school.

           Finally, he heard the sound of lock tumblers turning, and the door swung inward. Standing there was Dan, but he looked somewhat different from any time Phil had seen him before.

           Instead of the white polo shirt and khakis of the school uniform, he wore a loose black t-shirt with an eclipse design and a pair of black jeans. He looked remarkably more casual than Phil could have ever imagined a member of the Howell family to appear, having always seen them dressed to perfection in every photo in the newspaper. Images popped into his head of Dan dressed just to go out and buy groceries, or Dan dressed in a Shakespearean costume, or Dan in pajamas getting ready for bed. It was a sort of dress-up game in his mind, instigated by the strange curiosity that he had previously never considered, which was the fact that Dan wore different clothes to perform different tasks.

           “Phil, come on in,” said Dan.

           Hesitantly, Phil stepped over the door threshold and found himself standing in the entrance hall of the Howell estate. Though he hadn’t been to enough cathedrals to be able to reliably attribute its characteristics to other buildings (he hadn’t been to enough manors to do the same either), the inner hall immediately reminded him of the inside of one. The entrance hall reached perhaps three whole stories up into the air, and the light that flowed in from the rows of windows spotted the polished wood floor. It was truly a magnificent sight.

           Dan bound toward the central staircase right in front of the door, turning around to say, “My room’s upstairs, and I’ve got snacks in case you’re hungry. You can keep your shoes on, if you’d like.”

“No, it’s alright. I’ll take them off.” As he was taking off his loafers, Phil cast a glance down at Dan’s feet to see that he was wearing black socks with little white skulls on them. Cute, he thought to himself. In contrast, his socks were mismatched, one spotted maroon and the other checkerboard blue.

He placed his shoes as neatly as he could on the nearby shoe rack. Currently, there was only one pair of shoes on it, which he assumed were Dan’s school loafers. His family must all be out, Phil thought, and he joined Dan at the base of the stairs. Dan moved quickly and Phil followed along at a similar pace, trying his best to take in all the beauty of the house as they went. At the top of the stairs Dan took a right, then stopped at the first door on the left. He hesitated just a bit, as if he wasn’t sure how to proceed, then said, “This is my room.”

           Then Dan turned the knob and swung open the door. In comparison with the rest of the house, the room had a homelier feel, though it still exhibited an air of formality. The bed was queen-sized and made of painted black wood, and a black-and-white duvet was neatly arranged atop it. A tall bookshelf stocked with English classics organized by book height instead of alphabetical order stood proudly in the corner next to the mirror-less dresser. On top of a vintage mahogany desk, various scripts and textbooks were stacked one upon another. Everything was pushed to the edges, leaving a wide, clear area in the center that was illuminated by the sunlight streaming in on two sides from the tall windows. Finally, Phil’s eyes rested on a glass container with an open lid, like the kinds sold in the pet store for raising fish, and and inside nestled among shavings and small twigs was the mouse.

           “You have a very beautiful room,” Phil told Dan.

           The other boy blushed slightly. “Thank you. Come on in.”

           Dan let Phil in before walking over to the fish tank with the mouse in it. He bent over it and gently scooped up the mouse in two hands before bringing it over to Phil.

           “He looks like he’s doing very well,” Phil nodded approvingly. “And he seems to be quite comfortable in your presence.”

           “I think I spend a little too much time with him. He’s gotten so used to me hovering around. Sometimes I worry that he’s bothered by how overbearing of a parent I am.”

           “May I?” Phil held out his hands, and Dan let the mouse crawl out of his into Phil’s. It ran up and down his forearm, pausing to gnaw at the white fabric of his rolled-up sleeve.

           “Has he got a name?”

           “Well… sort of. It’s not official or anything, and I don’t call him that to his face out loud. But he does have a name in my mind.”

           “What is it?”

           “It’s kind of stupid and childish,” said Dan, blushing. “You’re going to laugh.”            “I promise I won’t. Personally I quite like stupid and childish pet names.”

           Dan didn’t answer at first, then said: “Fine. It’s Pickles.”

           “Pickles? Like dill pickles?”

           “Yeah,” Dan said sheepishly, turning away. “I told you not to laugh—”

           “I’m not laughing, I swear!”

           “He just really likes it when I feed him pickles, so—”

           “It’s very fitting, then. Very cute.”

           Gently, Phil placed the mouse on Dan’s right shoulder. He started a bit at first and squirmed as the tiny feet scratched against his neck, but when Pickles began nibbling at his earlobe, he could not help but laugh. It was a genuine laugh; it hatched from an egg in his heart and flew out through his mouth, like a bird. It was the first time Phil had ever heard it. He took a moment to take in the image he saw before him: Dan, standing in his bedroom, wearing his casual clothes, a mouse on his shoulder, relaxed and free, laughing. Standing before Phil as he was, the Dan that was seen in school seemed like an animal in captivity, a doll with a drawn-on smile that walked and talked and moved its lips without any heart in its actions.

           Suddenly, there was the distant sound of the front door opening and slamming shut, followed by the sound of loud, quick footsteps heading up the stairs.

           “Who is that?” Phil asked, but Dan didn’t hear. As soon as he heard the door open, he had dropped Pickles back in his tank and headed out the door. Phil was about to follow, but stopped behind the door when he heard Dan speaking.

           “Oliver, I thought you were supposed to be at football today.”

           “It’s raining. Practice got canceled. Fuck off.”

           Cautiously, Phil peered around the corner. Dan was talking to a younger boy whom Phil recognized from the newspaper photographs to be his younger brother. Oliver was shorter than Dan by about a head and face that made up for lack of height with twofold belligerence. He strode away toward what Phil assumed to be his own room farther down the hall and without any further acknowledgement toward Dan, entered and slammed the door shut.

           Dan quickly retreated back into his own room. Phil followed, gently sliding the door shut.

           “I’m sorry you had to see that,” said Dan. “I tried to pick a day that he wouldn’t be around, but I guess that didn’t work out too great. You can probably tell we’re not on the best of terms.”

           “No, don’t apologize, Dan.”

“I feel like I have to. He was awfully rude.”

“Not directly to me. I swear, I’m not offended or anything. You don’t have to be sorry about your brother.”

Dan was silent for a bit, and Phil sensed the gears in his mind turning. Suddenly he opened the door and headed out.

“Excuse me for a minute, Phil. I just want to try talking to him for a second.”

Phil stood by the door as Dan approached his brother’s door. He took a quick, deep breath to gather himself, then firmly knocked on the door, calling: “Oliver, are you listening?”

There was no response. Dan, slightly irritated, knocked once again. “Oliver! Oliver!”

From behind the door, there seemed to be the sound of shuffling. Finally, Oliver replied, “What do you want, asshole?”

But something was strange about the way he said it. The words were slightly slurred, and it sounded much more mellow than the voice that Phil had heard earlier. Dan seemed to sense this too, and immediately grabbed the knob and opened the door. By this time, Phil had left from where he had been waiting and was standing beside him hesitantly. So he was also right there to see what Dan saw when he swung open the door.

Before he even saw anything, Phil was hit with a strange, unfamiliar scent accompanied by a billowing cloud of smoke. He coughed a bit and waved the smoke away, and as the clouds parted they revealed Oliver, lying supine on his bed with a joint dangling from between his fingers. Dan briskly made his way over to Oliver and shook him.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“What, are you blind or something? What does this look like to you?”

Oliver carelessly jabbed the joint at Dan’s face. Dan swatted his arm away.

“I thought we agreed that you’d only smoke outside.”

“I told you, it’s raining. I’m staying in here, and you can take it or leave it.”

“You’re getting the smell of cannabis into the furniture, the walls, everything. Mother and Father are going to find out.”

“Do you think they they give a shit?” Oliver took another puff of the joint and exhaled. “They don’t fucking care what we do.”

“Oliver, please, you know I do this because I—”

“Forget it, Daniel. Don’t think as if your good intentions bullshit is going to change me. I do what I fucking want.”

With that, he rolled over and would not be further disturbed. By now the cloud of smoke had become quite strong and intolerable, and Dan had no choice but to leave his brother on his bed and rejoin Phil in the hallway, pulling the door shut behind him with finality.

“Let’s go to the attic,” said Dan before Phil had the chance to speak. “If it wasn’t raining I’d say we should go outside, but the attic will be far enough away. I’m going to get Pickles.”

The two of them returned to Dan’s room, where Dan let the little mouse crawl into his hands from the tank, and silently he led the way past the grand staircase and turned right into a smaller, narrower hallway. At the end of the hallway there was a closed door, and Dan opened it, revealing a flight of stairs. He switched on the light and began climbing, Phil following behind him. The attic was spacious and, despite the rain, was relatively well-lit with the natural light from two large, triangular window streaming in. The raindrops made the sound of typewriter keys against the roof. On the far side there was a vertical portrait of the four members of the Howell family, smiling courteously. The floor was very nicely polished and reflective. It looked very much like a ballroom, which Phil remarked to Dan.

“It is, in fact. My parents usually throw business parties in here.” said Dan. His voice was mostly as it usually was, but rather devoid of energy. “But this isn’t what I meant when I was referring to the attic.”

He walked up to the giant portrait and felt around under its bottom right corner. He secured a grip on the frame and pulled. The portrait swung on a hinge, revealing an entire room behind it. Dan and Phil both stepped through the portrait hole before letting it slam shut again.

“Here we are,” said Dan, switching on a nearby floor lamp. It cast the room in a warm light. This room was much smaller than the ballroom, but it did not feel cramped, but rather cozy. There were a couple armchairs arranged around a circular coffee table, and shelved lined the elegantly wallpapered walls. There were a few bookcases with rows of messily arranged, old volumes gathering dust, cupboards with antique-looking plates and cups and candlesticks among others, and an ornate chest pushed against the very far corner. Two smaller triangle window mimicking the ones of the ballroom revealed a glimpse of the storm outside, and in the center of the far wall there was an unlit fireplace.

           “Forgive the dust, if you will. This room is mostly used for storage, but I really like it here. It’s like a sanctuary.”

           “I like it too,” said Phil, looking around.

           Dan let Pickles down onto the circular coffee table, where he was free to roam around without fear of getting lost, before slumping down onto an armchair, bringing his knees to his chest. He gestured for Phil to take the one next to him, and Phil gently sat cross-legged on the seat.

           “Sorry for rushing you, I just wanted to get you and Pickles out of there quickly before the fumes spread. And I really am sorry about… Oliver. I know,” Dan cut Phil off before he could protest his apology. “I don’t have to apologize, but I should. It must make a horrible impression of my family and myself, the way my brother and I interacted. I hope you can forgive me.”

           “Dan, you don’t have to be like that in front of me.”

           Dan looked slightly puzzled. “Be like what?”

           “You don’t have to wear a face around me.”

           “I’m afraid I still don’t follow you.”

           Phil shifted in his seat to look Dan in the eye.

           “I may not be able to understand what it’s like to be a part of a family with such a recognized name and such an esteemed reputation, but I can guess that it must not be easy. It must be awfully difficult for you to have to uphold that reputation wherever you go, whomever you’re with. And I think I’ve come to see that more now that I’ve spent time getting to know you. But I want to make sure I know the real you.”

           Dan was silent but Phil could tell he was listening, so he continued.

           “I want you to feel like you can be yourself around me. I’m your friend, and friends accept you for who you really are. If anything’s bothering you, I’m here to listen, and I want to help. I promise that. So please don’t apologize, Dan. I don’t need one. I am your friend because I want to be, and you don’t owe me anything at all.”

           Dan seemed rather surprised at first. It occurred to Phil that he wasn’t likely used to having this level of sincerity in conversation with other people. But then, a smile began to grow on his face, and Phil could tell that it was real. It was bigger than the any smile he ever wore in public, and his eyes were bright and alive.

           “I’m really grateful for that, Phil. Thank you.”

           “Of course, and I mean every word,” Phil said gently. “So if it’s not too personal to share, will you please tell me what’s on your mind?”

           Dan’s eyes took on a wistful gaze. “I’m just thinking of Oliver, is all.” He was quiet for a bit, then drew a deep breath. “He’s been smoking now for about a year, and I’ve never been able to get him to stop.”

           “You’ve tried?”

           “Yeah, many times. But he won’t listen to me, and there’s nothing I can do about that. There’s nothing I can offer him that he wants. Or rather, what he does want, I can’t get it for him.”

           Phil found this phrasing to be rather strange, but he pushed that thought aside and kept listening.

           “I get that some siblings don’t get along, I really do. But I can’t help but wish that we did. We used to, at the very least.”

           “When you were both younger?”

           “Yeah. Up until I started secondary school we were on good terms. Or were we?” Dan furrowed his brow as he thought. “Well, it definitely wasn’t the way it is now back then. But maybe even then we were beginning to drift apart. He didn’t depend on me anymore by that point in time. Without my even noticing, he had gotten older and grown up.”

           Dan suddenly stood and went over to the closed chest in the corner of the room, and Phil rose and followed as well. Dan knelt and unlatched the lid, revealing a huge pile of old portraits, papers, and photographs scattered about messily. He dug around for a bit before finding what he was looking for, an old, faded photograph, which he handed over to Phil. It was horribly warped and worn with age, and it looked as if it had sustained all sorts of damage from exposure to sun and water. But clearly visible were two young boys, the taller of the two with his head resting atop the shorter boy’s head, his arms wrapped around his brother’s neck. They were in a bright, grassy field, and they were both smiling brilliantly. It was Dan and Oliver.

           “Sometimes I feel like I’ve been a shit older brother,” said Dan, walking back to the armchairs, scooping Pickles up from the coffee table before sitting down. “I wasn’t there to stop him from going down a bad path, and now he’s essentially lost to me.” He was silent, stroking the mouse with his thumbs. “Phil, do you have any siblings?”

           “An older brother. I’m the youngest.”

           “So you might be able to tell me what to do, from Oliver’s perspective.” Dan looked intently at him, and there was glint in his eyes. “Please, how can I help him? As his older brother, I don’t want to keep doing the wrong thing.”

            Phil rose from where he had been crouched by the chest, holding the photograph in his hands. Dan’s eyes were intense with determination. He sat back on the couch, still looking at the photograph, mulling over his next words carefully.

           “I don’t want to pretend that I know exactly what you should do to make everything better between you and your brother, or anything like that,” he began. “But know that what I say to you is what I believe to be the true, in my heart.”

           He returned Dan’s stare as best he could.

           “Just keep doing what you’re already doing. One day, I promise it will get through.”

           “But I’m not doing anything,” Dan protested. “How will doing nothing help him?”

           “That’s just the thing. You are doing something. By talking to him, confronting him, even reprimanding him — you’re showing that you care about him. That’s the greatest thing you can do for someone, to care.”

           Dan sat very still without speaking, his eyes now focused on Pickles in his hands.

           “And for the record,” said Phil. “I think you’re a wonderful brother.”

           The raindrops pattered against the windows, and there was the sound of a distant roll of thunder.

           “Do you really think so?” asked Dan quietly.

           “I do,” said Phil. Looking down at the photograph in his hands once again, an idea came to mind.

           “Dan, would you let me keep this for a few days?”

***

           They had explored the rest of the attic after that, laughing at Dan’s stern, moustached ancestors scowling in their portraits and pulling dusty tomes off shelves and reading sections out loud. Though Phil had insistently proclaimed Dan, with all his talent in theatre and literature, to be the more gifted reciter, Dan actually preferred listening to Phil speak prose in his calm, gentle voice, accented by the sound of the rain. When it was dark and the rain finally let up, they had headed back downstairs and bid each other goodbye.

           “Goodbye Dan — and Pickles too,” Phil had said, giving the little mouse a boop on the nose. Dan laughed. Phil got on his bike and pedaled away, once again turning to wave his arm in farewell before disappearing around the hill.

           Since then, Dan had been thinking of Phil and the advice that he gave him. It occupied him wherever he was, in class, at rehearsals with the company, even as he lay in his bed trying to fall asleep. The greatest thing a person can do for someone is to care. That thought was the core around which all his other thoughts revolved, and it stayed in his mind.

           He was now once again seated beneath his favorite tree in the school courtyard, the cherry tree with the twisted branches. It wasn’t yet in blooming season, but he liked to sit there anyway. Somehow he felt an affinity with it.

           It’s really quite pitiful how I feel such a connection with mice and trees instead of actual human beings, he thought. Well, except for Phil I suppose.

           He was waiting to be picked up to go to the company for Monday afternoon rehearsals, and unfortunately his chauffeur was running late. It wasn’t as if he minded much, though. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the tree trunk. Being under his cherry tree, feeling the sunlight against his face — it was very peaceful.

           “Dan! Hey Dan!”

           His eyes snapped open and he looked around, bewildered. Speeding toward him from the school building was Phil, his school blazer slung over his shoulder and a manila envelope in his hand. He came to a stop in front of him, double over and out of breath.

           “Whew, thank God you’re here,” he said, panting. “I was worried that you had left already.”

           Before Dan could speak, Phil pressed the envelope into his hands.

           “This is for you. I’m running late for another club meeting, but I wanted to get this to you as soon as possible. The note inside should explain everything. See you later, Dan!”

           And with that he took off again, leaving Dan standing there rather stunned. It was just as well that his chauffeur turned up right then, and, still in a confused state, Dan slid into the back seat.

           As they drove away from the school, Dan lifted the flap of the envelope and reached inside. The first thing he pulled out was a small note written on a sheet from a memo pad. The handwriting was simple and neat, not particularly beautiful but charming nonetheless. It read:

Dan,

           It seemed like the photograph you showed me the other day carried a lot of meaning for you, so I hope you aren’t upset that I borrowed it from you. Enclosed is the original photograph along with two copies of a restored version. It’s not the best restoration, but I made it in Photoshop the best I could, so I hope you’ll like it anyway. One of them is intended for you to keep, and the other is intended for you to do with as you please. This is only my opinion, but perhaps the second subject of this photo would do well to see it.

Phil

           Dan put the note to the side and retrieved the three photographs from the envelope. The restored copies had no signs of light exposure, water damage, or wear whatsoever. The colors had been returned to their original vibrancy, and the outlines of every detail were clear. Phil had done a spectacular job.

           That night, he slid the second copy of the restored photograph underneath Oliver’s door before retiring to his room to sleep. The greatest thing a person can do for someone is to care. Phil’s words echoed again through his mind.

           I’ll keep doing my best to care for Oliver, he thought, but who will care for me?

           As he was drifting off, a single thought rose from the depths of his mind. It shone like the glitter of the sunlight in the water, but he was sinking too quickly. By morning he would not remember it, but it was a single name.

           Phil.

***

           Soon, Phil’s presence at Howell Manor became a regular occurrence. He wasn’t always there just to mess around with Pickles — he and Dan often spend time having study sessions, running lines for Dan’s upcoming performances, exploring areas of the house. They had both serious conversations and light-hearted ones, and their laughter echoed around the walls of the large, lonely house. Sometimes the two of them would not talk but sit silently together while studying or reading or listening to music, and this did not bother them. Many of the best times they shared were silent, when the chaos of their individual worlds could settle in the quiet commune of their company.

           In recent days, if he came back from football early, Oliver would drop in to say hi. Most of the times after that he would disappear into the garden to smoke, but every once in a while, he would stay around. Once, the three of them built an entire system of tubes for Pickles, and for the first time in a very long time Dan saw his brother smiling. He snuck a look at Phil in the commotion and felt a surge of gratitude. You’ve helped bring him back, even if just a little,thought Dan. How can I ever thank you?

           For Dan, home began feeling more like home, particularly when Phil was around.

~~~

           “Let’s go to the garden today,” said Dan, meeting Phil outside the front door. This struck Phil as a bit unusual, as they had previously agreed to run lines today. Plus, Dan never met him at the door — Phil usually just walked in and Dan would be set up with snacks and Pickles in a portable box, waiting for him. When Phil inquired into this, Dan simply said, “We can run lines outside, if that’s alright with you. I just think it might be for the best today.

           Suddenly, his eyes flashed. “I forgot to get Pickles. Just give me a minute to get him,” said Dan as he opened the door and went back in the house. Phil followed him up the stairs. Dan seemed to be moving oddly quickly, looking around with cautious eyes, much like when Phil first encountered him sneaking into the house such a long time ago. On their way they ran into Oliver exiting his room with a small backpack slung over his shoulder.

           “You’re all set?” Dan asked.

           “Yeah, I’m going to Jack’s. His mum even said that I could stay for the night and she’ll take us to football in the morning. By the time I get back it should have all blown over.”

           The boys shared a knowing look between them. Then Dan gave a small nod and bid Oliver goodbye as the younger boy slid down the banister and disappeared out the front door. Phil was now more confused than before. Dan entered his room and returned with Pickles in his shirt pocket, and the two of them began a hasty descent back down the stairs.

           “Dan, is something going on?” asked Phil.

           Just at that moment, a door slammed open and a woman burst from the kitchen into the entrance hall, crying. From the top of the staircase, Phil watched as she stumbled toward the stairs, tripping in her high heels and alcoholic stupor. From her long, dark hair and elegant clothes, he recognized her from photos as Mrs. Howell, Dan’s mother. In this moment, she looked significantly different from the beautiful woman he saw her to be in the photos with strands of hair pasted against her tear-covered face and mascara running down her cheeks. From the bottom of the stairs, she raised her head and stared at Dan. Her jewelry and her eyes glinted madly.

           “Daniel James Howell, where is your father?”

           “He’s not here, Mother,” said Dan, his stance strong but his voice quavering. “He left for the party this morning. The one you were supposed to attend—”

           “Don’t give me those lies,” said his mother. Her words were slurred and incoherent. “He’s gone off again, hasn’t he? Of course he has, that adulterous bastard. Get down here. Get down and face your mother, Daniel.”

           With that, Dan immediately grabbed Phil by the hand and fled back into his room, slamming it shut and turning the lock. He made his way to the back-facing window, flinging the two halves open. Meanwhile, Phil heard the click of high heels against the staircase getting louder and louder. His head was whirling with confusion, and his heart was beating fast with frantic fear.

           “I’m sorry to put you through this, but we don’t have many choices at the moment. When she’s drunk, she gets violent,” said Dan, worry clear on his face. “Can you climb?”

           “Down the wall?”

           “Yeah, using the ivy. It’s strong enough to hold, I promise.”

           There was a pounding at the door and a rattling of the doorknob. Dan tensed beside him, but the door stayed shut.

           “We don’t have much time. As long as we get out of the house she won’t follow us. You go first, Phil. I’ll be right down.”

           Looking out the window, Phil felt a sense of vertigo creep into his stomach. It was a rather long way down. An arm’s length away from the window, however, there was the ivy Dan had mentioned running down the chimney and all the way down to the ground. The vines were thick with age and could likely support him if he climbed down, but he couldn’t help but consider the possibility of the branches snapping under his weight, sending him plummeting to the ground. The pounding at the door continued, accompanied by the incoherent sob-yelling of Mrs. Howell. Phil felt his nerves breaking down. Just what had he gotten himself into?

           “Please, Phil, you have to trust me.” Dan took Phil by the wrist and held him firmly. There was a fervent look in his eyes, shining and sincere. “You’re my friend, and friends trust each other. It was you who taught me that.”

           Dan’s hand on his wrist slid down and met his own. He gave it a strong squeeze. “I would never put you in harm’s way, Phil. You’ve never let me down in the past, and I have to keep up my end too. So this time around, please place your faith in me.”

           At that moment, amidst all the chaos, Phil felt his spinning world come to a stop. It was as if Dan’s hold was an anchor that steadied him, that reached inside to his heart and gently reassured it. Suddenly he realized that he wasn’t afraid.

           “I trust you, Dan. Meet you at the bottom.” Phil returned Dan’s squeeze before releasing his hand. Then he turned around and faced the ivy.

~~~

           After barricading his door with his desk chair, Dan bolted his window and made his way with ease down the ivy, as he had done a million times before. It was slightly more difficult with Pickles in his shirt pocket, and he often had to stop and make sure the little mouse was safe. Phil gave him a hand down.

           “Let’s hurry to the maze, just to be safe,” said Dan as he landed. “Are you okay?”          

           “Yes, I’m alright.”

           “Good. I’m so relieved,” said Dan. For him, Phil’s safety had been his greatest concern as they were escaping the house. His mother’s drunken tantrums were by now a familiar occurrence, and Dan and Oliver had developed their own system of waiting out the storm, so to say. Oliver would usually go to a friend’s, while Dan was more comfortable hidden in the giant maze of the garden. However, this time had been different. Mrs. Howell never left with Mr. Howell in the morning to attend any of the parties at which she was supposed to be present. When Dan and Oliver came home from school and found her passed out in the dining room surrounded by empty bottles, they knew they had to hurry before she woke up in an intoxicated rage. Oliver phoned his football teammate, while Dan waited nervously for Phil, who was supposed to be coming straight from photography club. At the time, he was infinitely worried about the possibility of his mother somehow hurting Phil in her uncontrollable state. But now, however, as he led the way through the familiar twists and turns of the maze, the thought dawned on him that Phil had seen things he was better off not seeing. He was now one of the only people who knew about the “secret” of his mother, what she was truly like underneath the expensive clothes and glittery jewelry. What will he think? What will he say?

           The fountain in the heart of the maze came into view. It was comforting to see it there, bubbling the same as always even with everything happening in the world around it. Dan lowered Pickles to the ground before taking a seat by the fountain, the same place he had sat such a long time ago. Phil sat down beside him, and Dan just noticed how grave his face looked. Everything probably just hit him now, how ridiculous the whole situation was, how ridiculous his friendship with Dan was. How could he possibly still want to be friends? Now that he knew what the esteemed, reputable Howell family was really like, Phil was probably coming to the conclusion that their friendship wasn’t worth all the baggage Dan brought along with his crazed, dysfunctional family.

           Phil was the first to speak. “Dan, I just want to—”

           “I’m really sorry, Phil. I shouldn’t have let you get involved with me. I shouldn’t have let you in the house while my mother was around. I— You could’ve gotten hurt, and it would’ve all been my fault. And now you know— you know what she’s like, and then you must think— that I’m— I’m—”

           “Dan.”

           Phil interrupted him, taking his hand with a firm hold. It was the same kind of hold with which Dan had taken Phil’s hand earlier, communicating the same tethering reassurance. Dan looked at Phil’s face and saw now that the graveness which had occupied it earlier revealed itself not to be anger but concern.

           “Don’t say anything more. Nothing anyone else does will ever affect what I think of you. I just want to know if you’re okay, not just right now, but in general. Really, Dan, I am a bit worried. Are you sure everything’s alright?”

           Phil pressed Dan’s hand, and his grip was strong. There was an earnest look in his eyes.

           “I’m fine,” Dan was about to say, but then he stopped himself. “No, that’s not true. The truth is, I don’t really know.”

           “That’s okay. You don’t have to know,” Phil said gently. He hesitated, before continuing, “This might be a bit personal, but as someone who cares about you, I’m going to ask. You don’t need to explain in depth or anything, but— are you… doing alright at home?”

           “It’s not as bad as it seems.” Dan took a moment to think about how to phrase his answer. “I know it must look as if… as if there’s something wrong. And yes, I suppose you can say that there is, since my mother and her drinking isn’t exactly — well, right. And I won’t pretend as if this hasn’t happened before, as if it doesn’t happen all that often. But by now it’s all manageable. I’ve gotten used to it, really. And if I’m being completely honest—”

           He took a deep breath, in and out.

           “To be honest, I’m just grateful that she acknowledges me.”

           “Dan, what do you mean?”

           “You haven’t met my father yet, have you? Perhaps it’s best that it stays that way. Compared to my mother, he…” Dan trailed off.

           “You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to.”

           “Thank you, I really appreciate that. I guess to sum it up, I can’t say that I’m not bothered by what happens around here, but it’s not as if I can do anything about it either. This might seem silly, but what affects me the most is just the solitude. No, not even that. I’m used to being alone. I guess what I really mean is the feeling of going through it all without anyone there to support you. When I’ve had lousy days at school or if I’m struggling or even if I’ve done something well, they’re not there to share it with me. They’ve never seen a single play of mine, you know. Not Father, not Mother, not even Oliver. That’s the kind of time when you just wish that you had someone there.”

           Dan released Phil’s hand to retrieve Pickles, who had wandered near his fingertips.

           “But please don’t worry for me, Phil. it’s getting better. I have you, and Pickles, so I’m not completely alone. You’re the one who’s always been there for me, Phil. I’m not going to lie, I was so sure that you were going to be horrified after encountering my mother — even after encountering Oliver. I thought you were going to leave now that you knew the truth of it all. But you didn’t.”

           Dan leaned back against the fountain and looked up at the sky. It was sunny and peaceful and warm, just like Phil, who leaned back and looked up with him. There, joined in a single solitude, they were two in a universe.

***

           At half past one in the morning, Phil’s house received a telephone call. With his parents away on their separate business trips, it was Phil who had to drag himself from bed to the landline.

           “Lester’s residence, Phil speaking,” he said groggily.

           “Oh, Phil, you’re awake…” The voice on the other end sounded immensely relieved to have been answered, but between the words Phil could detect panic and fear. The voice belonged to—

           “Dan, is that you? What’s going on?”        

           “Yes, it’s me. I’m sorry for waking you. Have I disturbed anyone else in the house?”

           “Don’t worry about it. And no, my parents are out.”

           “Thank God. Okay.” Phil heard him let out a shaky breath. “Can you make it here in fifteen minutes?”

           “I’ll be there even faster if you want me to,” said Phil, thinking of his driver’s permit.

           “That would be great. I’m so sorry.”

           “No, don’t be. I’ll be right over. Should I meet you at the front door, or?”

           “I’ll wait for you at the bottom of the hill. Thank you so much, Phil.”

           “See you soon, Dan.”

           With that, Phil hung up the phone and immediately dashed to put on his jacket and shoes and retrieve the car keys. It would be rather risky taking the car out so late, especially since he wasn’t technically allowed to drive it alone yet, but he figured the current circumstances called for some risk-taking. Locking the door of the flat behind him, he descended the steps in a hurry, found the car parked by the curb and got in. Taking a deep breath, he put the key in the ignition and turned, the sputtering of the engine piercing through the silence of the night. With a steely resolve, he gripped the steering wheel and drove off.

~~~

           The headlights of the car as it came around the turn flashed into Dan’s eyes and blinded him temporarily. He stood paralyzed where he was, shivering in his pajamas against the nightly chill and clutching the mobile phone he had used to call Phil so tightly his knuckles were white. The car came to a stop in front of him, and its headlights flickered off. As his eyes took their time to readjust and the world spun into darkness, he felt a strong grip against his shaking arm.

           “Dan, what happened?”

           At that point he still couldn’t see very well, but he didn’t need to see in order to recognize the voice of Phil. Suddenly, his legs felt as if they were filled with lead and he collapsed with equal parts exhaustion and relief. Phil staggered to catch him and support him back to standing.

           “Are you okay? Please, talk to me, Dan.”

           Despite Phil’s pleading, he did not speak. In his silence, Dan was trying to contain his feelings within himself, to carefully choose the right words to say. He did not want to drown Phil in a barrage of his emotions, and so he undammed his thoughts with caution.

           “I’m better now that you’re here,” he began. “Thank you for coming, on such short notice and so late at night, too.”

           “Never mind all that,” said Phil. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

           Dan took a deep breath. Though he managed to steady his outward appearance, his head felt like screaming.

           “It was just my parents. They had a bit of an… argument.”

           “An argument?”

           As Phil said that, his eyes flickered toward the manor for a moment before returning. He must have noticed how all the lights in the house were illuminated, and if he had simply stopped to listen carefully, he would have been able to hear the distant yells of Dan’s mother and father. Even at the mere thought of it, Dan felt hot pools of tears build behind his eyes, so he bit his tongue and willed himself to stop.

           “It’s not uncommon for them to have these kinds of arguments,” said Dan. He hesitated for a moment, before explaining, “My father, he often comes home late. Not from work, that is, but someplace else. Someplace he shouldn’t be. Sometimes, he’ll come home late from that place he shouldn’t be with… a woman. And she would stay the night. And sometimes, my mother finds them, and sometimes she’s really drunk when she finds them, and then they have an argument, and they scream at each other and hit each other and throw things, and it wakes us up but there’s nothing we can do but leave them and run away.”

           He had been picking up speed in his retelling like a carousel spinning increasingly out of control, and when he finished he was rather breathless and lightheaded. Phil took him in a gentle embrace.

           “Dan, you didn’t have to tell me everything. If it’s not something you want to share, you don’t have to say it.”

           “No, I felt like I had to,” Dan insisted. “Otherwise it would’ve just weighed down in my heart forever, and I wouldn’t be able to stand it.”

           “Okay,” said Phil. Dan felt Phil’s arms around him tighten their hold, and his anxiety became to seep away, as if Phil was drawing it out of his blood like snake venom. All of a sudden, he felt somewhat silly.

           “I’m sorry, Phil.” His voice was muffled against the taller boy’s shoulder. “It’s always been about me, hasn’t it? That’s hardly fair.”

           “I won’t hear of it, Dan.”

           “I’m being so selfish. I haven’t done anything but trouble you. I haven’t done anything good for you at all.”

           “That’s not true at all. I’ve always thought you were amazing and talented and wonderful.”

           Hearing Phil’s high praise drove daggers into Dan’s heart. “I’m not,” he said, tears beginning to streak down his face. “I really, really wish I were, but the truth is that I’m not. No one in my family is who they really are, and I’m certainly not an exception. And please believe me, Phil, when I say that there is nothing I want more than to be as wonderful as you think I am.”

           “Dan, look at me.”

           There was a sudden solemnity in Phil’s voice that startled Dan into looking up. He was met with an extraordinary sight. He had straightened himself to his full height and set his jaw, and something about the look on his face called to mind the commanding presence of a navy sea captain. There was a fierceness in his bright blue eyes that Dan had never seen before. The sort of look that made you believe that nothing could hurt him, and consequently nothing could hurt you while you were with him.

           “You are wonderful to me because you are yourself,” Phil said firmly. “And you are my very best friend in the world.”

           He took Dan’s hand in his own and gave it a squeeze.

           “You got that?”

           Slowly, Dan nodded and squeezed back.

           “I do.”

           “Then come on,” said Phil, leading Dan to his car. “There’s somewhere you should be.”

~~~

           The more he thought about it the more Phil felt doubts about his idea, but with Dan in the passenger seat next to him and the two of them getting farther and farther from the manor, there wasn’t really any turning back. It was dark outside and Phil suddenly became aware again of the fact that he was driving after his permit curfew without a licensed driver. It’ll be fine, he thought to himself. Just be careful and concentrate.

           However, that proved to be relatively difficult to do. Phil couldn’t help sneaking looks over to Dan beside him, who had fallen asleep from exhaustion against the window, lulled by the gentle undulations of the car through the hills. It was the most peaceful Phil had ever seen him, with his face completely free of the lines that creased his brow when he worried and his eyes curtained away from the reality of his sorrows. It occurred to Phil now, watching the passing streetlights cast alternating patterns of light and dark over Dan’s sleeping face, that a few months ago they had never spoken to each other before, and Dan was just a distant wonder whom he admired from afar. But upon befriending him, Dan turned out to be so much more than Phil had perceived him to be. Behind the veneer of his idealized life, Dan felt pain and suffering and loneliness. He had wants and desires, hopes and dreams, flaws and imperfections, and as Phil became familiar with them, he appreciated the genuine Dan even more. To the point at which his past admiration, which was but a simple infatuation back then, had grown into a true and complex love.

            “It’s a funny thing, Dan,” said Phil out loud, softly so as not to actually wake Dan. “I’m ten a penny. I’m nothing special. Not compared to you, at least. You… you’re as brilliant as the stars in the night sky. The point of the matter is, I’m completely ordinary. And yet—”

           Phil brought the car to a stop beside their destination and looked at the sleeping boy beside him.

           “With you, Dan, I feel like I’m somebody amazing.”

~~~

           After he felt the car come to a stop, Dan blinked his eyes open and it took him a moment to remember where he was.

           “Sorry, I must’ve dozed off,” he muttered, combing at his hair with his fingers.

           “No worries,” said Phil. “You must have been pretty tired.”

           Dan looked outside the car windows at his surroundings. They were in an unfamiliar residential neighborhood, with rows of identical flats lining both sides of the street and round streetlights every few doors. Phil exited the car, crossed over to Dan’s side and opened the door for him. Dan hesitantly got out and went with Phil to one of the doors, which the latter unlocked and pushed open, gesturing for him to enter. Phil began climbing up the stairs, and Dan followed behind.

           “Are we…” he began slowly.

           “You’ll see in a moment,” said Phil. At the third floor, he came to a stop in front of another door and unlocked it. Swinging it open, he brandished an arm and with a note of drama in his voice, announced, “Welcome chez moi, monsieur Howell.”

           Dan stepped over the threshold, and immediately he felt a cozy warmth rush over him. He was standing in the open lounge, which contained a series of sofas and armchairs gathered around a fireplace, and a dining table adjacent to a kitchen. There were books and childhood art and family photos adorning the walls, houseplants occupying every open corner, and a burning candle — “forgot to blow that out before I left” — near the front door that wafted a marshmallowy scent all through the room.

           “It’s not much compared to Howell Manor, but I hope you like it,” said Phil, a bit sheepishly.

           “I like it very much,” said Dan, in awe. “It really feels like an actual home.”

           “I’m glad to hear that,” said Phil. “Come on upstairs, I’ve got something for you up there.”

            As he was walking up the stairs looking at the back of Phil’s head, Dan felt his heart stir with gratitude towards the other boy. Even now, months after they had become friends, he still believed as strongly as he did on the day they met that Phil was nothing short of a miracle. All his life, Dan has felt the weight of loneliness on his fragile shoulders without a supporting family to care for him or friends to turn to for relief. He had grown accustomed to his loneliness, which became a perpetual, dull ache in his soul that was almost no longer felt. But then, Phil had entered his life like a comet crashing through the atmosphere, and the heat of his entry had melted away the ice of solitude and reached his lonely heart. Phil had given him the unfamiliar gifts of kindness and acceptance, and even after learning about Oliver and his parents, he still chose to stick with Dan. With the strength of his compassion, he had showed Dan what it felt like to be loved, and also to love somebody else with all of one’s heart.

           Phil, I can never repay you for everything you’ve done, thought Dan.And knowing you, you would say that I don’t have to. But I want to. For once, I want to be the one who goes out of the way to make you happy. I’ll make sure it happens, so please… keep sticking around.

           Finally, they were standing before a closed door right opposite from what Dan perceived to be Phil’s bedroom.

           “This is for you,” said Phil, and he opened the door.

           Dan peered through the open door at the room and his breath caught in his throat. It was a beautiful bedroom, small but complete with a bed, drawers and bookshelves, and even an upright piano. The bed was made rather messily with a checkerboard duvet, the books were haphazardly arranged on the shelves, and the top of the piano was stacked high with books of music sheets. There were also several photo frames hanging from the walls and on the bedside table showed pictures of young Phil and his family. This was the kind of bedroom that Dan had always wanted.

           “Technically, this is my brother’s room, but he’s long since moved out. You can fix it up however you like, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

           “Phil, you can’t possibly mean to say this room is for me?”

           “I do,” said Phil, and his face took on a serious look again. “You told me about how Oliver always goes over to a friend’s house during these kinds of things while you just stay at the manor. I thought that you might also like to have somewhere else you could go in case you needed to, sort of like as a sanctuary.”

           “You mean, I can come here whenever my parents…” Dan said, trailing off.

           “Yes, you can come here anytime you like. If you ever need to stay the night, or even if you just want someplace else to go and relax or anything like that, this room and this flat is always open to you. I hope,” said Phil, blushing slightly and scratching the back of his head. “Well, I hope that, if nowhere else, you can consider this place a home of sorts.”

           Dan reached out and took Phil’s hand. It was warm like the sun on a field of flowers.