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Phil was sure the heat would kill him. A heat wave had been suffocating London for the better part of two weeks and Phil could barely remember what life was like when he wasn't constantly damp and sticky from the humidity and his own sweat. He couldn't even appreciate all the fit, shirtless men roaming the streets. Walking through the thick London heat, with his backpack bearing down on his shoulders like a stone, Phil was sure he knew exactly how the Egyptians felt building pyramids in ancient deserts. How could it have possibly been any worse than this? Phil's daily slog from home to work and back again felt like a march through hell and all he wanted was to strip off his clothes and stand in front of his open refrigerator until he felt human again.
"Oi!"
Phil slowed his already languid pace and looked around the quiet residential street he had turned down in order to walk under the shade of the trees lining it. He saw nobody and continued on.
"Hey!"
Phil stopped in his tracks and looked around again. A fresh bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face.
"Down here you dingus."
Phil looked down at a backpack jutting out of some bushes off to the side of the pavement and next to a puddle. He crouched and squinted into the bushes, fully aware they were too sparse to be hiding a person, but not knowing where else to look. "Uh..."
"Right here!"
Phil jumped back and away from the puddle where the voice had come from.
"Come back! Please help me!"
The street was deserted but for Phil and the voice, and after another glance around and a deep breath to compose himself, Phil walked cautiously back to the puddle. "H-hello?" Phil peered into the liquid from a safe distance. On closer inspection, the puddle of water looked a bit unusual; it didn't spread or seep into the pavement or grass, instead it seemed to sit on top of it, somehow a wholly separate entity that didn't mix with its surroundings. Phil reached his hand out before coming to his senses and snatching it back without touching the substance. Was this heatstroke? Was he hallucinating?
"Please, can you help me get home?" The voice asked.
Phil wanted to run away but didn't move an inch; he felt frozen in place by equal parts curiosity and fear. "Like... to another planet?"
"What? No! I'm just a few houses down the road."
"This road?" Phil looked at the rows of houses surrounding him and wondered if anybody was watching him through a window, concerned at the sight of a confused young man drenched in sweat conversing with the pavement. "But you're... water?" Maybe the heat was melting Phil's brain. Maybe his skull was filled with the exact liquid that he was presently speaking with. He felt faint.
"I'm not water, I'm—Look, I know this is weird, but I just need your help. Everything is fine. My name's Dan and I honestly live just down there. Oh, I tried to point and I don't really have fingers at the moment, that was silly of me." Phil was staring wide-eyed and silent so the puddle—Dan—continued, "Could you tell me your name?"
"...Phil?"
"Okay, Phil, can you check my backpack over there? There's a container inside, and I think I can probably fit in it. So if you could just kinda... put me in it? And take me home?"
"...Okay." Phil unzipped the bag and, sure enough, there was a container inside with what looked like bits of leftover spaghetti in it. He shook the spaghetti onto the ground and laid the container next to the puddle. Against his better judgement, he gently poked a finger against the substance. "You feel like gravy."
"Thanks," the puddle named Dan said in a decidedly less-than-thankful tone.
Phil cleared his throat and pushed the inexplicable substance into the container. Like rubbery days-old gravy, he wanted to add, but he kept his mouth shut. The sensation was kind of gross but kind of cool, Phil couldn't decide which. Maybe it didn't matter, since he had clearly lost his mind.
"Keys are in the front pocket," Dan said as Phil stood up shakily, holding the container against his chest, worried about spilling. "The house number is 447."
Phil shuffled to the house, which was indeed just down the road, under the weight of two backpacks and the surprisingly heavy liquid, and unlocked the front door on his second try. Phil wasn't sure if what he was doing counted as breaking and entering, but it was too late to start questioning things. He dropped his and the puddle's backpacks onto the floor inside and looked into the container in his hands.
"Take me to the bathtub."
Phil found a bathroom and as he approached the tub, Dan said, "Pour me in!" And so Phil poured him in after blocking the drain.
"I need cold water."
Phil turned the cold faucet on and let the tub fill. He turned the water off when it was half full and waited. Nothing happened. "Hello?" He asked in a small voice.
"You need to get in."
Phil stepped gently into the tub, not wanting to step on Dan but not exactly sure where or what Dan was in the mass of water. Phil sat down and pulled his legs against his chest to take up as little room as possible, and sighed in relief at the chill water against his hot skin, sweaty clothes and all.
"Could you close your eyes?" Dan asked.
Phil closed his eyes without protest and gripped the sides of the tub when he felt the water shift. It could have been 2 seconds or 10 minutes for all Phil could tell before he opened his eyes, but when he did, he saw a young man sitting across from him. The man sat in the same position as Phil, their knees only inches from touching each other, but unlike Phil, the man was naked. "Are you—um—what—" Phil didn't even know what to ask. Was he still hallucinating? Whose house was he in? "What just happened?"
The man ran his hands over his wet hair, and then his face, his arms, legs, like he was checking to make sure everything was in its right place. "It happens sometimes. I overheated."
"You overheated so you... melted?"
"I guess? It's kind of hard to explain."
"Are you human?"
"Yes!" Dan sounded offended at the question.
"Sorry! It's just, I've never heard of that being a thing."
"Well, it is. It's a thing. It's valid."
"Okay. Um. Is it genetic?"
Dan laughed and for the first time Phil noticed how attractive the puddle man was, with his dark curly hair, and dimples when he smiled. Phil felt a sudden urge to laugh at the idea that he had just grown a boyfriend in a tub of water, like those little novelty toys he had seen at shops. He bit his tongue to get ahold of himself.
"It's a long story. Do you really want to hear it? I'd like to put some clothes on first, I think."
Phil remembered Dan was naked and he was not, so he averted his eyes and climbed out of the tub, spilling water everywhere in the process.
"There are towels in that cupboard," Dan said.
Phil took a towel out for himself and handed one to Dan without looking directly at him.
"I think we're the same size. Take your clothes off and I'll get you some dry ones."
Phil watched Dan leave the room in his towel and when he was gone, Phil took off his clothes and dried himself off. Dan came back dressed and holding a pair of gym shorts and a t-shirt to give to Phil. "Come meet me in the kitchen when you're ready."
Phil got dressed and hurriedly cleaned up the water he had spilled all over the floor, then hung up the towel. His heart was beating hard and fast in his chest, a kind of assurance that at least he wasn't dead or dreaming. He didn't think it was heatstroke. Maybe it was just reality. Maybe a man had overheated to the point that he melted into a puddle on the pavement and Phil had come across him just in time.
Phil looked in the mirror and smoothed his hair back. He glanced at the bathroom door, and thought of the man beyond it, waiting for him in the kitchen. The man that Phil had just grown in a bathtub.
It was a long story and Phil really did want to hear it.