In Your Dreams // phan

t h i r t y s i x

"How do you still drive? I'd be too scared to even get back in a car," I mumbled, still a little shaken. I wasn't physically there but I had just been in a car crash. It looked and felt and seemed entirely real, and it wasn't something that I was just going to get over anytime soon.

Phil didn't answer right away. He shrugged eventually and said, "Necessity. It scared me too at first, but I had to get over it. Martyn left, my mum might as well have left too. I realised that I needed to start taking care of myself."

I nodded impressed. I was a thousand times more impressed with Phil now than I was before the dream. He never told me how his dad died. He left out the traumatising details. I understood why he was concerned about me seeing that memory now. It was more horrific, more heart wrenching than I had anticipated.

"And how do you do the rest of it?" I asked. I stepped up onto the curb, balancing along the narrow width of cement as we walked. Where to, you ask? Nowhere. With Phil, walking never needed a destination. I was content to just let my feet wander.

It was dark out but I had no idea what time it actually was. The street lamps were lit and their light was eery yet calming. I watched our shadows as we walked.

"What do you mean?" Phil asked, his hand still in mine. I used it to help balance myself.

"How are you... you?" Phil looked at me blankly, his raised eyebrows asking me to elaborate. "Like... you're so happy and positive and hopeful. I don't get how you can be after something like that."

"It was a long time ago, Dan," Phil said simply. After a few seconds of thinking he added, "I healed. I still am healing. I've learnt to replace the sad memories with happy ones."

Replacing the sad memories with happy ones. It seemed a difficult feat in my head. I had no stand out memories from my life that were particularly happy. Before meeting Phil that is.

But I did have some. Memories that slipped my mind, lost in the sea of bad ones. Like my father singing to my mother. That was a good memory. Or the first time I visited the library, and I realised I had entire worlds at my fingertips, to peruse and explore at my own leisure.

The more I thought about it, the more that came to mind. They were little memories that I'd thought insignificant. I'd underestimated their true value.

Before I could change my mind I pulled Phil off the pavement and over to the park. It wasn't a big park; it probably didn't even classify as a park. It was just a small expanse of grass beside the road, occupied by a single bench.

"What are you doing?" Phil questioned.

"Recreating one of my happy memories." I held my other hand out to Phil. "Will you dance with me, Philip Lester?"

Phil grinned and took it. "But there's no music."

I shrugged. "We can pretend."

Phil laughed. "Now who's being cheesy?"

"Would you just... okay?" I stuttered out, suddenly embarrassed that this was a stupid idea.

Phil leaned in quickly to give me a peck on the cheek and assure me that it wasn't, before letting go of my hands and pulling out his phone. "I don't have many slow songs," he noted as he scrolled down. He stopped when he came across one, almost at the very end of his playlist.

The song started playing and I smirked at him. "You're a nerd," I said.

"So are you," he countered.

"Yeah but you're the one with Tifa's theme on your phone."

"Yeah but you're the one that recognised it."

Fair point. "Yeah... well... whatever," I said ever so intelligently. Phil only chuckled and with one hand held my waist while his other hand held my own. And we danced to the Final Fantasy VII soundtrack in the middle of a park at some ungodly hour of the night.

Badly though. Very badly. Phil clearly didn't know how to dance, and was doing a poor job at leading. I switched our positions and took over.

"You can't dance," I said bluntly as way of an explanation.

Phil grinned and didn't try to argue. "So I've been told." It was easier with me leading, though Phil was still very bad. "So, Billy Elliot, where did you learn to dance?"

"My parents taught me," I answered, conjuring an image of the memory that sparked our dance. I remembered watching my mum and dad dance around the living room and wanting to join in. I was young at the time, young enough to do that thing where I stood on my dad's toes as he danced.

Eventually I got too heavy for that but we still danced occasionally. And then as I got older and grew more distant I became merely an observer again. I didn't want to be an observer anymore.

"Anything else you neglected to tell me?" Phil asked. "Any other superpowers that slipped your mind?"

I smiled, my face feeling flushed. "I'm also telepathic. Did I forget to mention?"

Phil leant his forehead against mine and smirked. "Yeah you did. So what am I thinking right now?"

I paused and screwed up my face, as if actually trying to read his mind. "You're thinking... damn he's a good dancer."

Phil laughed, his breath tickling my face. "You're right. I am thinking that. I'm also thinking about how beautiful you look right now." He leant in to press his lips quickly against my own. Lightly. Barely a whisper of a kiss.

"And how I'm so lucky to have you as my soulmate." Another quick peck on the lips. "And how I cannot wait to spend the rest of my life with you." Another kiss, but this time one that lingered. "And for the record," Phil said as we finally pulled apart for air. "That's what I'm always thinking."