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Dan woke up.
His clothes were a damp mess, his heart beating against his ribs in an aching rhythm.
He sat up, his hand pressed against his chest as if it could keep his heart from jumping out.
It took Dan more time than usual to find out where he was. The room was bigger than usual, the smell unfamiliar.
Only when he heard the loud cicada buzzing coming from outside did he remember.
Vacation. They were in Vietnam.
Their hotel room was pitch dark, which told Dan that the next morning must still be hours away.
He blinked and rubbed at his eyes, desperately trying to get the sleep fog away.
In the back of his mind he could still see his dream, could hear the voices whispering into his ears.
Okay, he could deal with this. This was nothing new.
He took a deep breath. It came in shaky, barely getting any actual air into his lungs.
He exhaled.
Then tried again. It didn’t work.
Okay, so breathing was overrated.
Dan shook his head, trying to think of what he could do next. If he tried any longer, Dan knew he would only panic.
He sat up straight. He could think, so he must be getting air somehow. That must be enough for now.
Maybe he could get some water.
He scratched that thought immediately. It was way too dark, and right now there was no chance he would be able to find the light.
So instead, he resorted to listening to the surrounding sounds.
He blocked out the strange voices and concentrated on the cicadas, on the wind that blew against the covers, on the way the night itself sounded different from home.
Everything was different, despite the steady breathing beside him.
Phil.
His heart slowed down immediately.
Phil was here.
No matter how dark the night, no matter how lost he was, Dan knew he simply had to turn around to find his way back to Phil.
So he did exactly that.
He laid back down, nuzzling under Phil’s blanket, placing his head in the little nook between his chest and his arm that was made for Dan, of that he was sure.
And even while still asleep, Phil automatically shifted so that Dan could cuddle in even closer. He rested his head on top of Dan’s head, sighing into his hair.
Dan’s thoughts came to an abrupt halt.
It was like finally getting pulled out of the freezing water. And maybe his lungs still burned, maybe his ears were still filled with fluid, but he could breathe again.
It took Dan a second to notice the way Phil’s hand brushed over his back. How his breathing had turned less rhythmic, telling Dan he was awake.
"Phil," his voice came out weird, not sounding like himself, "Make me feel better.“
When Phil’s voice broke the silence, Dan felt like crying.
"Bad dream?“ he whispered, and Dan shook his head.
"I don’t dream.“ Dan said back, his voice coming out in shreds.
Dan could hear Phil shifting, felt himself sinking into the pillow, Phil’s arm pulled out from under him.
Before he could protest, Phil’s hand lay against his cheeks, his thumb drawing small circles, brushing away the tears.
"Wanna explain?“
They’d had this exact conversation about a thousand times before. Dan knew that. Phil knew it.
And maybe it would take another thousand times before Phil would understand, maybe he would never.
Still, Dan knew Phil would always continue to ask, and Dan would always continue to answer.
"I don’t think I dream.“ he repeated, clinging with his hand to the wrist of Phil’s that still cupped his face. "On good days, I sleep and wake up.“
Phil stayed silent. He always did.
"On bad days, I sleep and see and hear all those voices, all these people telling me how I’m not right, that I—“ Dan had to swallow. Phil let his hand wander to the back of Dan’s head and pulled him in closer. "But it doesn’t feel like— it’s not a dream. Not when all of this has happened.“
"Oh, Dan.“ Phil’s voice was barely audible, but Dan could still hear the ache in it.
Phil wrapped his other arm around his waist, and Dan immediately clung to Phil’s body like a drowning man.
He buried his hand under Phil’s shirt and started tracing along the curves of his spine. It felt familiar, grounding.
Phil kept quiet. He was thinking.
He would say something, as always, but until then, this was enough for Dan.
This was where he belonged, this was his Phil.
He breathed in his sweet, flowery smell, a mix of that new aftershave and that unmistakable Phil scent.
When Phil’s chest rose as he inhaled, Dan braced himself for whatever Phil had deemed right to say tonight.
„If I could, I would spend all of my remaining time on this earth overwriting all these moments with happy ones. Make sure to give you so many enjoyable memories that you forget everything bad that has ever happened to you.“
If he hadn’t already cried, this would have done the rest.
He threw his leg around Phil’s, trying to get even closer to him, even if there was literally no space left. Not a single inch.
When that wasn’t enough anymore, Dan tilted his head upward.
Phil understood immediately, lowering his own head until their lips were sealed.
No matter how many times Dan would kiss him, it would always feel like coming home.
No matter if they already were at home, no matter if they were a thirteen-hour flight away.
Phil was his home, his safe space, everything he ever wanted.
And Dan wanted to tell him. Shout at him that he already did exactly that. But he couldn’t get a single word out.
So he kissed him harder, deeper, trying his hardest to somehow get all of this across through this kiss.
And when Phil pulled back, resting their foreheads together, his breath tickling the tip of Dan’s nose, he might not have exactly understood what Dan had wanted to say, but it had been enough.
"I want to make you dream again.“ Phil whispered.
Dan felt his lips quirk upward. He pressed a kiss against the corner of Phil's lips once more.
"You’re everything I’ve dreamed about already.“
Phil exhaled shakily before a quiet laugh disrupted the silence.
„This was probably the most corny thing you’ve ever said.“
„Oh, shut up. Right back at you.“ Dan rolled his eyes before kissing Phil a third time, then a fourth.
Somehow, only a few minutes later, they got back into their previous positions. Dan laying on top of Phil’s arm, the other one draped loosely over Dan’s waist.
Both knew neither of them would sleep the rest of the night. They also knew they would be fine with that as long as the other was there.
Dan was playing idly with the seam of Phil’s shirt when a grin crept onto his lips. He nudged Phil with his knee.
„Let’s turn this into a funny podcast anecdote.“
„The mind you have, Howell.“
Dan felt the laugh vibrating from Phil’s chest.
„I love you.“ he whispered.
„I love you, too.“