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~

Joe’s acting skills were easily up to par with Dan’s, and Dan wondered all the time he’d spent training to pull something like this off had really been worth the effort. Phil bought their story without a hitch, and the sleepover was set for just three days later. Janet supplied a six pack of beer between the three of them (because she didn’t think any more than that would get past the ethics committee), but Joe promised to provide more than enough Budweiser to get Phil to talk. Setting out to get a presumed innocent drunk in order to gather information was a shady topic ethically, so Dan had promised Janet that it was not their intention – if it happened accidentally then that was nothing to do with them.

Joe arrived first, a suspiciously heavy rucksack on his back, and they headed down to the basement to prepare. Janet had rushed out to a charity furniture shop to find some second hand mattresses that could believably pass for spares saved by a functional family over many years, and they’d bundled all the spare bedding into a corner ready for building an appropriate base camp for their gaming marathon. Dan’s own Xbox had been shipped over from campus especially for the occasion, and he was secretly smug that he’d been able to persuade the staff that his PS3 just wouldn’t cut it.

“Cool set-up, man.” Joe enthused as he took in the plasma screens and pool table.

“It’s not really up to standard yet,” Dan said modestly. “Haven’t had an excuse to use it till now. Mum’s ordered some beanbags I think, but she’s promised that it’s our space to do with as we please, as long as we let her have control of all the reception rooms. I swear, if we so much as nudge a footstool in the living room out of place she goes mental. But I don’t care, this is a much cooler place to have friends in. We can play music really loud here and you can only just hear it upstairs.”

“That’s so sweet,” Joe grinned. “Wish I had something like this. It’s exactly what I need as well, it could basically be a whole other house. You could get everything you needed in here. Just pee in a bottle.”

“What about food?” Dan laughed.

“Plug in a microwave,” Joe shrugged. “And a kettle. Pot noodle and ready-meals, what more do you need?!”

“You make a fair point. Sophie did say she was going to get a mini fridge down here.”

The doorbell rang and the pair pattered back up the stairs to welcome Phil inside. Regarding the sudden introduction of Joe, Janet had been told the same story as Phil, and it fitted remarkably well. As far as Joe was concerned, of course Dan wouldn’t be telling his mum the truth of how they had met, and Janet was as clueless as Phil on the matter – which suited Dan well.

 The house had been cleared up much more thoroughly this time. Sophie and Janet were on red alert, and anything incriminating had been locked securely in a spare room with an extensive alarm system should one of the boys try their hand at breaking and entering over the course of the night’s festivities.

The three comfortably settled in a mound of sofas and pillows, Joe wasted no time in cracking open a beer. Phil seemed a little unsure, and so Dan joined Joe in the hope of encouraging him. For both Dan and Joe’s incentives, there was no point trying to pressure Phil into drinking, because their friendship with the dark haired boy was the most important part of their respective missions. Nevertheless, a little persuasion was to be expected of teenage boys, and so Dan threw a can gently at the mound of blankets that contained Phil Lester.

“Oi,” he said. “These are for you too.”

There was a moment of silence as both Dan and Joe held their breaths, watching Phil eye the beer apprehensively. And then Phil snapped the ring pull open, and Dan let a little smile creep onto his face. While it wasn’t vital for the end goal of the evening, it would certainly make things easier.

~

Half an hour and nine cans of Budweiser later, the three boys were heavily involved in a competitive game of Fifa. While Dan made no pretence of liking football, he had to admit that the virtual version of the game was kind of addictive. Half the contents of the basement had already been chucked around the room in various scuffles, and Dan glanced guiltily at a little puddle of spilled Pepsi on the carpet.

Joe scored a particularly jammy goal, and Phil let out a yell of frustration, pounding his fist into a cushion.

“You’re so annoying.” He complained.

Joe exchanged a glance with Dan, and Dan knew they were both thinking the same thing. Phil’s speech was already coming out in loose spiels, and he dissolved sporadically into fits of giggles in response to Dan’s less than witty attempts of humour. He was a lightweight, and things were moving very quickly.

Dan took a sip of his beer as he leaned back on the sofa and they resumed the game. He’d very carefully replaced the contents of two of the cans with lemonade to make sure he stayed clear-headed enough to extract the information he needed, but this can was full strength and he was taking care to drink it slowly. It wouldn’t be much use discovering Phil’s darkest secrets if he couldn’t remember them the next morning.

“D’ya want another?” Joe asked, gesturing at Phil’s empty can, and Phil nodded happily.

“I don’t really like beer,” Phil said with a chuckle. “But I’ve kind of stopped tasting it. Or maybe I’ve just grown to like it.”

“I don’t think anyone really likes beer,” Dan said darkly. “It’s just a requirement of manliness.”

“I hardly think any of us here are very manly.” Phil hiccupped.

“Oi!” Joe protested. “Me and Dan met at a gym. We’re both hard as nails, mate.”

“It’s ‘Dan and I’, you uncultured swine.” Phil tutted with another hiccup.

“I don’t care, you egotistical, superior bastard.”

“I’m cultured!” Dan piped up, with an exaggerated grin. He made a point of swaying as he pulled himself to his feet. “Let me NOT to the marriage of true minds,” he proclaimed.

“Oh, no, here we go.” Phil muttered darkly.

“Admit impediments. LOVE is not love, which alters when it alterations finds!”

“Shakespeare. Load of old rubbish.” Joe winked.

“Or bends with the remover to remove,” Dan continued, pointing his finger threateningly at Joe as he stalked towards the sofa. “It is an ever fix’d mark, that looks upon tempests and shall not be shaken.”

He threw himself on top of Joe, tumbling them both back onto the mound of pillows. “It is the star to every wandering bark,” he announced, his voice slightly muffled as they tussled and kicked at each other.

“Shut up, you melon.” Joe was breathless with laughter as he fought to wrestle his way on top of Dan.

“Who’s worth be unknown, although its height be – arrgh, your knee literally went in my mouth there! - taken.”

“What does that even mean?” Phil giggled, watching in near hysterics from the other end of the couch.

“It means you can’t calculate its –oof - value,” Dan grunted. “Like, it’s relating to the North Star that ships used to use to navigate in those days. You can measure how high up it is, but it means so much more than just a few numbers to those sailors – it’s all they had sometimes to find their way home. You can’t put a figure on that. To them, it means the world. Now stop interrupting. Where was I? Ahh, yes. Love’s not time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks-” Dan had emerged triumphant from the play fight and straddled Joe’s midriff, but while he was talking to Phil, Joe had wriggled out from under him and launched himself at Dan’s back.

“Within his – oi! – bending sickle’s compass, fuck, com-OW!”

Joe had finally succeeded in pinning Dan down on the cushions and, panting slightly, he threw his head to the sky. “Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, but bears it out! – even to the edge of doom!” he all but yelled.

Dan could only look up at Joe, disgruntled and red in the face, as Joe finished the sonnet. “If this be error and upon me proved,” Joe paused for dramatic effect, grinning down at Dan. “Then I never writ,” he said in a whisper. “Nor no man. Ever…” he lowered his face to Dan’s till his lips were just inches away from Dan’s skin. “Loved.” He breathed.

“Fuck off,” Dan laughed, heaving the smaller boy off him and pulling himself back upright, smoothing his hair down with his fingers.

“Well, that was very beautiful you two. I’m afraid I don’t know a lot of Shakespeare myself. Um, iambic pentameter.” Phil piped up, shuffling closer along the fabric.

“Very good, Phil. A-star.” Dan said sarcastically, but Phil just grinned wider.

“I did tell you Joe liked poetry,” he sniggered. “You shouldn’t really have challenged him.”

Dan turned to Joe and raised an eyebrow. “Shakespeare’s not all that impressive. Everyone knows Shakespeare. Especially sonnet 116, like, that’s the most obvious one. You’ll have to try a lot harder if you want to amaze me.”

“How about some Baudelaire?” Joe grinned.

“Nah, I don’t speak French. Gives you an unfair advantage, you could just be making it up.” Dan folded his arms across his chest as he eyed the boy who didn’t really look anything like the one he had grown to call his friend. He didn’t look like a Bullet. He looked young and innocent and oh so sixteen. He’d traded his trademark range of hoodies in varying hues of grey for a navy jumper and black jeans, and his socks were red with white polka dots. Even his buzz-cut looked a lot fluffier in the yellow light of the basement.

Joe looked back at him through small, pale blue eyes, and then his lips began to move.

“She walks in beauty, like the night,” he said softly. “Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

“And all that's best of dark and bright,

“Meet in her aspect and her eyes:

“Thus mellow'd to that tender light,

“Which heaven to gaudy day denies.” He made a mock bow, with a flourish of his hand.

Dan let out a huff of air. “Huh,” he said, miffed. “Didn’t really have you cut out as a Byron type.”

“Really?” Phil laughed. “He is such a Byron type.”

“Well, I guess. That’s only the first stanza anyway. Bet he doesn’t know it all.”

“Oh, yes?” Joe’s eyebrows shot up into his forehead as he swung himself round to face Dan. “Was that a challenge, Dan Howell?”

“Maybe it was,” Dan said, amused. “And maybe now’s not the best time for it. Love poetry doesn’t count unless you have a beaux in mind, anyway. You have to say it like you mean it. Like the words make you want to cry and yell and burn a fire in your heart all at the same time.”

“Well, fuck,” Joe laughed. “Calm down Tennyson.”

“This poetry banter is killing me,” Phil said, somewhat sarcastically. “Can we cook the pizza now? Or are you going to turn it into a metaphor for how things have to be burned and warped to release their true potential?”

“That’s a good one actually,” Dan smirked. “But okay. I only have peperoni and margarita though.”

“Perfect.”

They traipsed a little sheepishly up the stairs to the kitchen, but luckily Janet was nowhere to be seen and they embarked on their pizza-making adventure with limited mishap.

~

“How strong is this beer?” Phil asked, his voice a slur and his eyes glazed.

“Five percent.” Dan responded, an amused smile playing across his lips as he surveyed Phil’s stretched out form in front of the TV.

“Coooool.”

“You know what else is cool?” Joe giggled from the corner where he was building a pyramid out of the empty cans. “Ice cubes.” He collapsed into silent laughter, and Dan snorted.

“Wow, Joe. That was really funny.” He sniggered.

“Thanks!”

“We do need to turn the music down, though. Else my mum will get mad.”

“Your mum’s hot.”

“Not like ice cubes, huh, Joe?”

Phil curled up in a ball, clutching his sides, and Dan shook his head as he got up to fiddle with the volume.

“Pair of idiots.” He mumbled.

“You’re just jealous because we’re having more fun than you.”

“Yeah, cos you’re both massive lightweights. Really, I’m embarrassed to be around you.” Dan crouched down beside Phil, staring fondly down at the mass of tangled hair.

Phil rolled sloppily over, his arms limp and barely able to support his weight as they flopped about.

“My mum would have killed us all by now. I mean, the crash when the lampshade broke. That was crazy.”

“Is your mum strict?” Dan asked.

“So strict. She didn’t use to be. Only when we started living in bigger houses.”

“When was that?”

“The first move was when I was like, seven. I had a whole double room to myself and I thought we’d won the lottery or something.” Phil pushed his fringe absent-mindedly out of his eyes.

“Did your Dad’s business just suddenly start doing really well, or something?” Dan prompted.

He watched Joe out of the corner of his eye. The boy was very still as he stacked the cans, and Dan had a feeling that he wasn’t the only one exaggerating the effects of the alcohol.

“Yeah, something like that.” Phil murmured.

“What do you mean?” Dan asked casually.

“I don’t really know,” Phil confessed. “It’s all crazy. So crazy. There’s so much money. But he’s doing what he loves, he really is.”

“What, stationary?” Dan laughed.

“Um, yeah. Well. Business.”

“Huh,” Dan paused, trying to think how best to phrase his next question without it turning into an interrogation. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“’Course.”

“My Dad’s kinda well-off too, only I don’t trust him. He cares too much about money. Like, he wants his family to live really well and stuff, but I think he’s kind of addicted to it now. He gets really defensive when I ask. I think he does dodgy stuff, sometimes. I don’t know what. Tax evasion, definitely. He goes to Switzerland all the time. Probably got loads of bank accounts. And it bugs me. I’m scared he’s going to get into trouble and I’m scared it’s going to affect my life and also I’m kind of disgusted by it all, you know? I know I could find out, if I wanted. But I don’t want to know because then I’d have to face it. And that makes me a coward, really. Because if I knew for definite I’d have to say something – I couldn’t just leave it. But I don’t want to not have the money anymore and I don’t want to argue with my Dad. So I just try to ignore it.”

“I totally understand,” Phil said emphatically. “That’s a really normal way to feel about it.”

“Why, is your Dad the same?”

“Something like that. God, I hate him sometimes. I hate him so much.”

“How d’you mean?”

Phil sighed. “Yeah, he’s rich. But at what cost?”

“I don’t-”

“Forget it. Pass me the marshmallows.”

~

“Do you like your dad, though?” Phil was at the perfect stage of drunkenness – some of the haziness was wearing off so he could form coherent sentences once more, and he was also drowsy with the late hour – and Dan was keen to take advantage of it.

Phil gave a non-committal shrug. “He’s not so bad. He’d a good sport. A bae. He cares a lot about us. I can’t be too mad at the things he does, because I know the reasons are good. He wants us to have the bestest life possible. He wants us to have everything he didn’t. You know?”

“Is he from a poor background, then?” Dan asked.

“Nah, blud, mate. No. Nah.” Phil rolled over a couple of times on the floor. “Not so much poor. But he’d never even like, set foot outside of England ‘till he left university, and he never got to do things like learn an instrument or take up sports. It was life things, you know? Thingies. No amount of money when you’re forty can give you those thingies. Those experiences.” Phil lay back until his head was in Dan’s lap, and Dan petted his head gently.

“Sorry, are you sleepy?” A small smile tugged at one corner of Dan’s lips.

“No. Manly Phil. I am strong. I will struggle on. Distract me.”

“I could take advantage. Find out all your secrets.”

“You will never unlock this box of magic, Dan Howell.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Not a chance.”

“I reckon I could. I’m great.”

“You are.”

“Maybe I’ll have to win your heart first.”

“Do you two need a moment?” Joe interrupted. He shuffled over with a grin and flopped down beside Phil, resting his head on Dan’s other knee. “Come on then, I want a loving caress too.”

With a dramatic sigh, Dan ran his fingers lightly over the foreheads of the two boys. “While this is all very lovely,” he said. “I think we’re forgetting the fact that I totally destroyed both your asses at Fifa, and thus you owe me several pizzas at least.”

“You can destroy my ass anytime, baby.” Phil giggled.

“Nah, I don’t think that’s Dan’s style somehow.” Joe quipped.

“What do you mean?” Dan frowned, but Phil and Joe just laughed. “I feel like there’s a reference I’m not getting.”

“I think Joe’s implying that you’d be the one getting your ass destroyed in this hypothetical situation.” Phil sniggered.

“Oh.”

Joe propped himself up on an elbow to throw a pillow at Dan, and Dan caught it mid-air, thrusting it back into Joe’s midriff. “What makes you say that?” Dan asked.

“Oh, come on. You’re such a bottom.” Phil took hold of the pillow, hitting Dan round the head with a thwump.

“What does that mean?”

“You take it up the ass, Dan Howell.” Joe rolled his eyes.

“I don’t! I mean, well. I just, I mean, if I was gay why would… don’t all gay people do that, though?” Dan fought to find words, panic rising in his chest as he snapped himself back into character.

“Yeah, most do. But people have a preference. In butt sex someone is going to be on top while the other is at the bottom, and is, coincidentally, taking it in the bottom.” Phil explained, amused.

“Oh. I didn’t realise, I mean, I guess I just thought they swapped.” Dan fiddled awkwardly with the sleeves of his hoodie.

“Really, Dan. You need to watch more gay porn.” Phil was clearly enjoying himself as he lounged once more across Dan’s lap.

Dan on the other hand was squirming uncomfortably. Had Phil told Joe about them? About what Dan had said to Phil? Or was he just joking around? Joe had barely reacted at all, perhaps he was gay, too. From all Dan’s knowledge of secondary school boys, he didn’t think that many straight boys would react so calmly (and knowledgeably) to in depth discussions of the mechanics of gay sex. And it wasn’t like Phil had ever actually told Dan he was gay. For all Dan knew, Phil thought Dan was the gay one and had told Joe, hence the calm discussion, but both boys were straight and just trying to let Dan know it was okay. God, it was confusing.

Inferences and ambiguity lead to miscommunication and serious rifts between people, so Dan decided it was best to get things clear before the water got any muddier.

“Guys, can I ask you something? You’re my friends, right?”

Phil and Joe both nodded, curious.

“Well, you’re basically my closest friends here and I don’t know who else to talk to about this,” Dan continued. “Joe, I don’t know if Phil had told you, but I think I might actually be bisexual and, I don’t know, I guess it was the way you were talking but I was just wondering if you two were, too. Not straight, I mean.” Dan had spat out the words rapid-fire all in one breath, and now he waited anxiously for their reactions.

“Well, firstly, well done for saying that. It’s really brave,” Phil smiled a little shyly up at Dan. “Secondly, I’m bisexual, yes. But I don’t really have a lot of experience with either gender so I may be wrong. Who knows. As for Joe…?”

“I’m pretty sure I’m straight,” Joe said. “But obviously it’s absolutely fine that you’re not. It doesn’t change anything.”

“Thanks, guys,” Dan said gratefully, and he didn’t have to fake his nervousness. “I haven’t told anyone else. And I’m not a hundred percent yet so like, keep it to yourselves, yeah?”

“Of course.”                                                                                                                                                                               

Phil twisted round to wrap his hands around Dan’s waist, burying his face into the soft skin of Dan’s stomach. “You looked really scared saying that,” Phil murmured, his voice muffled. “It’s okay though, really it is. No one actually cares anymore. It doesn’t change who you are or how manly you are or anything like that. I was so scared at first. But then it was okay.”

“Thanks,” Dan said softly, placing a hand a little awkwardly on Phil’s back. “I’m okay, I think. It’s not so bad. I mean, I still like girls. There’s just something else now, too.”

“Something else?” Joe said, raising an eyebrow pointedly at Dan and Phil’s embrace. “Or someone?”

Dan cringed, but made an effort not to show it. “Whatever.” He grinned.

~

Things moved slowly after that, discernible words coming few and far between from Phil’s lips, but Dan collected and stored every snippet of information. Michael Lester had gone to Bristol University, and studied something to do with science. He’d been good at it, and really enjoyed it. He played rugby and snooker, but Dan had yet to figure out what Phil had meant by ‘he’s doing what he loves’. More digging would be needed, certainly.

They’d received the much coveted invite to Phil’s house about halfway through the night when Joe demanded a Fifa rematch, but Dan knew that Joe would have to cancel last minute to avoid running into Michael Lester. As for what exactly it was that Michael Lester was doing with the Suits, it really didn’t look like Phil knew about it. He had his suspicions, obviously, but Dan was pretty sure that Phil had no idea how bad it was.

As they’d settled down finally to sleep at about 4am, Phil had curled up against Dan’s side and there had been a brief moment where Dan had thought that Phil might be about to kiss him, but he didn’t.

Dan was in the middle, facing Joe, with Phil snoring ever so slightly, his head pressed into Dan’s back. Dan could just about make out the outline of Joe’s body in what little light was filtering through the crack in the door.

“You know what you said, earlier,” Joe mumbled. “About needing to have someone in mind when you read love poems. To like, make it count. Make it proper. Well, I do.” He rolled onto his back, gazing up at the ceiling. “And thinking about her makes me cry because she’s not mine and I don’t think she will ever be and I feel so pathetic and stupid thinking about her so much when there’s nothing. There’s nothing at all. But at the same time, she makes me so happy. I talk to her, and I feel like nothing else matters. I feel like I’ve found how humans are supposed to be. This crazy, giddy happiness. And there’s the fire too, the warmth. When I lay in bed at night and imagine us falling in love and all I want to do is read poetry to her in the bath and sit on rooftops talking about the stars and run through the streets late at night pissing off all the old people by being too noisy and too PDA and too obnoxious but just not caring at all, because we’re together. And I don’t even love her! How can I, when I’ve never had her? I don’t really know her. I can’t love her. And yet I can feel so much.” He ran his fingers angrily down his face. “God, sometimes I just want it to go away. It consumes me so much, fuck, I’d do so much more with my life if I didn’t waste so many hours thinking about her. I don’t ever want to fall in love, when something as small as this can cause so much turmoil inside of me. If I want the world to end every time she mentions another boy now, how would I feel if we were actually dating?!” He sighed heavily. “I don’t love her. But god, I could.”

“Who is she?” Dan asked quietly. He knew his place here. To listen respectfully, say only enough to offer his ears should Joe want to say more.

“You don’t know her,” Joe said, dismissively. “You might meet her, though.”

“What’s she like?”

Joe rolled over to face Dan with a wry smile. “One shade the more, one ray the less,” he whispered. “Had half impair'd the nameless grace.” His fingers traced an invisible shape in the soft cotton of his pillow. “Which waves in every raven tress,

“Or softly lightens o'er her face;

“Where thoughts serenely sweet express,” his hand came to a gentle halt and he stared silently at whatever he had been drawing. “How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.”

~