A/N: This story is dedicated to ThatStrangeBlueEyedGirl on AO3.

Josh remembers that day like this:

He woke up at 3 am and laid awake thinking too loud, (as Chris had woken long enough to grumble.) He seemed to sleep through it just fine after that, though. Josh squinted into the glaring green glow of the alarm clock and wondered if being awake at 3:33am was a bad omen for the day to come.

After laying fairly motionless for hours (though his thoughts ran circles) he faded into sleep, waking at noon. This time he allowed himself to get out of bed and go about his morning routine. When he ran out of things to do, Josh was found collapsed in on himself at the kitchen table with his head in his arms. Chris tried to talk him into doing something that would distract from his anxiety, but Josh was mulish; content to maintain his state of nervousness. He wondered how Ashley was feeling about it.

Josh spent the rest of his open afternoon wallowing, thinking, until Chris urged him to get ready. He did so without complaint, though Chris had to help him shave when his hands wouldn't stop trembling.

He remembers that Chris needed help with his bow tie, and then after he tied it for him, the next thing he knew he was scrunched up in the back seat of a car with his head between his knees. For a time he just breathed, step by clear-cut step, up until he realized that this was truly going to be the second most stress-concentrated experience of his life. And it only happened as a result of the first one. It took Chris a few minutes of talking at him before Josh felt he could get out of the car.

He probably didn't look very awake and alert for the first few pictures the photographers snapped, but eventually someone leaned in and whispered, "look alive," and so he did. He hoped his most genuine smile fit on his face, but wasn't counting on it. What made it all come into effervescent color was the thought that he was there with Chris on his arm, and apparently also with an audience excited to see his movie. Their movie.

Then suddenly they were passing into the lobby. He looked to the side when a splash of blue luminescence called his eye. It was the poster, all glossy and sharp, cinematic, with the cast silhouetted against a snowy recreation of the old lodge. In tight, frigid letters the title was scrawled: Until Dawn.

Into his free hand someone tucked a drink, which he was all too happy to abandon on the nearest flat surface. They moved out of the way, and Chris murmured something in a tone that made Josh laugh a little too abruptly. That's when Ashley found them. Her gown was moonlight blue and simple, and hung around her sweetly. She hugged Chris first, then Josh, and the two of them just kind of held each other for a short while. As much as this story belonged to all of them, the film was Josh and Ashley's baby, or so Chris insisted.

They pulled away, neither sure how else to comfort the other when their fears were so similar.

So Chris spoke instead. "You think Mike and them will show?"

"I wouldn't count on it," said someone flatly.

The trio turned as one, and Josh's anxiety eased a little.

"Sammy!" he greeted. Hopefully not too loud.

"Hey," she said to them with her easy smile. Chris, who was closest, reeled her in for the first hug. (Literally. He mimed the reeling part.) She rolled her eyes and played along.

As she made for Josh and Ashley, Chris commented, "So that sounded pretty cold; about Mike," and chuckled. "We thought you and he were... getting along."

She grinned, and it was viperous. "We aren't on speaking terms right now."

"Mike'll do that to you," Josh added sympathetically. "Whatever he did this time, I'm sure he'll get over himself pretty quick."

The edge of her bitterness smoothed over and she gave his hand a squeeze.

"Okay, I want to get a seat before I fall over," Ashley declared.

"I second that," said Josh.

He remembers that they were pulled into conversations, conversations that surely would have an impact on his career, but it, too, blurred together until finally they were seated in the black theater, with the opening credits drifting across the screen like snow. He imagined that as one, the four of them took a deep breath and steeled themselves for reliving the worst night of their lives.

He's not sure when, but Josh knows that he almost left the theater. He wasn't watching the movie anyway. But he knew he would feel so much worse for backing out, so instead he focused all of his attention on the hand in his. He felt the soft, sweat-sticky pads of Chris' fingers curled over the back of his hand; felt the jagged hangnail on the corner of his thumb scraping back and forth over the skin of Josh's knuckle; eyed the barely-there delineation of their interweaved hands. This focus technique he learned from Dr. Hill—mindfulness, he always called it. It was the first technique he taught that Josh took to like riding a bike.

Somehow, lavishing their gathered hands with his impalpable attention got him through the rest of the film. Soon, they were back in the lobby, surrounded by pleased viewers, colleagues, and people of the media.

Eventually, the onslaught of inquiries and comments died down, and the four of them looked to each other, tired, dispirited. Josh's heart felt limp in his chest.

"I'm sorry for bringing all this stuff back up, guys," Josh said to them.

Ashley slipped under his arm to give him a side-long embrace. "Don't forget that I helped."

"And it's tough to 'bring back' something that never went away," Sam added. Josh felt an unnameable pang. He wondered, what would Dr. Hill say to that?

Chris didn't need to say anything. This was an old argument.

With promises to meet up again soon, they parted ways, set for home.

He then remembers shutting the front door on the chilly evening air. He and Chris orbited one another as each went about shaking off their suit jackets, unknotting their ties, and toeing off their shoes. Their silence spoke only for their exhaustion.

Josh sank into the sofa, up against his favorite end and arm. The coffee table reverberated with a dull thud as he propped up his feet.

After a few minutes of staring sightlessly into the black TV screen across the room and listening to Chris bang around in the kitchen, the silence was snapped by Chris calling, "Incoming!" and flopping over the back of the couch. He wriggled around until his head lay in Josh's lap. Their eyes met, and Chris' crinkled up with his grin. Josh, in spite of the unnamed feelings roiling through him, managed one in return.

Things settled to quiet again. Josh thought it was probably his fault, so he said, "Well, it was no—"

Chris stole the words when he lurched up for a kiss. Pulling back, he said, "If you compare our movie to a timeless classic, this relationship is donion rings."

Josh laughed. "I'm just saying—"

Chris sat up to kiss him harder. "You oughta be proud; it's a good movie," he said after the kiss. "I'm proud of you."

"You were proud of me for knowing how to tie our ties."

Chris shrugged. "Gotta appreciate the little things."

"Alright, Zombieland," Josh relented with a fond glint in his eye.

Chris continued, "Like how you appreciate my awesome sense of humor. For example: What's black and white and red all over?"

Josh snickered. "A newspaper."

Chris mimicked the Price Is Right losing horn. "Oh, wrong answer, Joshy boy." He shook his head mock-solemnly.

Josh had never been able to keep his amusement from Chris, and this instance was no exception. "Alright, what is it?" He could tell Chris was desperate to get to the punchline.

The other centered himself with both hands up in a way that implied 'wait for it'. He took a breath and said, "You, in a tux, on our wedding day."

Laughing, Josh poked Chris in the chest. "Except I'm not the one who blushes head to toe."

Chris said nothing; simply sat there, half spilled into Josh's lap, looking something between nervous and expectant.

It took Josh a lengthy second. "Was that a proposal?"

Chris smiled guiltily.

"I guess you're lucky I'm a sucker for your dad jokes."

The smile stretched into a grin over Chris' face. "Is that a yes?"

Josh's hand came to a rest on Chris' hip. "I really don't think it could ever be a no."

A gratified noise slipped from Chris before he leaned in for a languid kiss that savored of his immense relief. But abruptly he broke the connection—so abruptly that Josh mindlessly leaned after him to recatch his lips. With wide eyes, Chris tumbled to the floor in his haste to stand. Grunting something about a forgotten ring, he scrambled to his feet and bolted for the bedroom.

Josh's laugh was loud and loose when he took off after him.

Certainly, he remembers what was, and is, most important.