Night

concrete jungles

fanart by Midonix they are the literal best ok bye
(Thank you for making them look so badass this is amazing)

Howling ghost they reappear
In mountains that are stacked with fear
But you're a king and I'm a lion-heart.
-Monsters and Men, King and Lionheart

Dan

Say it.

A voice in the back of my mind is driving me crazy, bombarding me with thoughts of the familiar boy next to me.

Say it.

There's something ironic in being able to confirm so much that I'm feeling in the moments that exist hours, days even after I'd denied their existence. My life, it seems, is one giant mistake after the other and I have no way of helping that, but the words won't go away. The ceiling fan above our heads hangs motionless and I wish it would turn, willing it to spin so I could cast my gaze to the motion. To something, anything else.

I swear I do. I know you can't see it, but it's all I can think about, Phil.

It's my own voice nagging me, which is why it's so maddening. There's just no way I can do that. The simple, loaded phrase that I knew was true before I could even put a word to it. I can't make myself voice it aloud, but when I think of saying it, I know it's true. With everyone around us, I can't say it anyway.

I love you.

It hit me while we were walking back to the apartment, Cat slightly pissed but grateful under the surface that we were okay and the three of us walking away from that bar, leaving last night and all that drunkenly happened with it behind. The air between Phil and I felt odd but not in a bad way- it was warm, magnetic, charged with a strange mix of nervous yet seemingly impossible calm, I couldn't put my finger on why at first it felt so strange.

So much had happened. So many secrets that weren't meant to escape were sprung free. Why wasn't I uncomfortable? Why did I feel relieved, rather than scared in the aftermath? Phil knows everything short of his being the object of my attractions, yet even with our half-life there I found myself stepping in to press us closer, fingers aching with the painful need to wind through his, to feel the warmth of their weight against my own.

Overwhelming. Intoxicating.

But also... liberating. Because it's a part of me. It feels good to be able to actually accept something within myself for maybe the first time in my life.

We passed the Starbucks on the way back. Our Starbucks, which Cat of course didn't spare a second glance. It caused a dull thud in my heart and it made my head clear in a moment. Memories floated up of Christmas lights and drifting flakes and a stupid cupcake with chocolate dot eyes, the first meaningful gift I'd ever gotten and receiving it from Phil, right by the door of this very place. The thought, it didn't happen in a dramatic way, there was no profound revelation. In fact, I don't even think an expression crossed my face.

Just passing that place again, on top of all the other memories I had now, ones of Phil's high school boy story and bittersweet wine and lips pressed to the skin of my forehead, it all suddenly meant something. He met my eyes briefly in acknowledgment of our shared past when we crossed by it, even this small part of the past housed in that derelict building, and just that glance- like it had always been obvious- drew out the words from my mind and made me think it for the first time.