Phil was up much later than he was accustomed to. When it hit midnight or one, he was usually out for the night. But with a one click mistake he had wiped all of his progress editing a video that was due to go up on his channel tomorrow, so at three thirty he was still hammering away, his eyes help open only by caffeine and willpower. When he felt his lids falling down again he jolted up and stretched, stifling a long yawn. He considered turning in, but things had been good lately and he'd been getting a lot more sleep than he was used to. He figured one late night wouldn't kill him.

He puttered to the kitchen and put the kettle on. While it boiled Phil took a minute to enjoy the serenity of the flat. He was a Londoner, so there was of course the perpetual hum of traffic, but apart from that there was nothing but the quiet hiss of the water heating. It was nice; the silence meant that his flat mate wasn't pacing around his room again. It had been a while since Phil had heard Dan's erratic late night behavior, and it was brilliant. Dan seemed to have no concern for his own well-being, so Phil tended to worry on behalf of his mate.

He was so deep in this reverie that a crash from the front of the hallway made him jump a full four inches in the air. His first thought was that a painting had fallen, but when he realized that they didn't own any art, the words break in flashed through his mind and he tensed. His phone was back in his room charging and he didn't want to risk making a noise while trying to get it. He looked around franticly and his eyes landed on a dirty pan left in the sink. Fighting against his ragged breath and racing heart, he took a few slow steps towards it and gripped the handle slowly. The click of the front door latching shut confirmed his worst fear; someone was in the flat. Phil inched towards the hallway while steeling himself for whatever was about to happen. When he got to the doorway he inhaled sharply, tightened his grasp, and wheeled around brandishing the cookware high.

"Jesus Christ!" a voice shouted.

Phil was so shocked he released the pan and it banged to the floor. "Dan! What're you doing?!"

"I stayed at the party, I told you that," his friend said quietly. It was only then that Phil was calm enough to actually absorb what he was looking at. Dan was standing hunched over, sopping wet with melted snow that saturated his clothes, no coat to be seen. A deep red bruise bloomed across the boy's cheek and dried blood coated his lower lip. The collar of his tee shirt was torn and stretched, revealing the beginning of what looked like more welts across his chest.

"What the hell?! Wh-what happened?" Phil said as he staggered towards him. Dan flinched back.

"I'm fine," he whispered in a monotone, turning his body away from his flat mate.

"No you're not; you look like you got hit by a motorist!"

He heaved his shoulders in a shrug. Phil reached out and flicked on the lights, gasping and causing Dan to shut his eyes sharply. The dark had hidden the harsh red scratches circling his neck and the beginning of a swollen lump forming above his right eyebrow. A million things went through Phil's head at once, but he tried to shake them off and act logically.

"Go wait on the sofa, I'll be back in a second," he ordered.

"Phil, it - "

"It's not up for discussion." Dan didn't seem convinced, but a few minutes later when Phil came back from the bathroom with the first aid kit and a bottle of water, the brunette was sitting there, leaning back with his eyes squeezed closed and his hands run through his hair. The older boy went to work, cleaning and bandaging everything in order of severity. He helped in silence, trying to be gentle and stay calm, but every flinch he felt from his friend when they made contact deepened Phil's concern. The two had gone to a friend's house earlier that night, around seven. It was supposed to be a small gathering, but when it turned out to be around thirty people just milling about, the older boy grew uncomfortable and left. Dan said he'd head back in an hour or so, that he just wanted to say hi to a few friends. Phil had thought Dan had returned, but now that he thought about it, he was so caught up in his editing he couldn't remember hearing his mate come back. He could smell the sting of alcohol on the younger boy's clothes, but Dan didn't seem all that out of it to him. After everything was bandaged and cold packs were placed on the forehead and ribcage, the pair just sat in silence. After an immeasurable amount of time, it was finally broken.

"Tell me what happened."

Dan exhaled and shook his head slowly. "Thanks for fixing me up, but I don't want to get into it."

"You're not one to pick fights, so …were you robbed? Have you phoned 999, we could-"

"I said leave it," he interrupted with a grunt. At that point Dan opened his eyes and looked at his friend. For what seemed like forever, the two just stared, Phil's eyes furrowed in worry and Dan's trying desperately to be reassuring. However, the more time that passed, the harder it seemed to get for him. After a few minutes the bruised boy had tears streaming down his face. The mates had never been particularly touchy, but without thinking Phil reached out and pulled him into a hug. The taller boy jerked into a rigid posture, but quickly melted down and buried his face in Phil's shoulder, allowing sobs to rack his body. Several times the boys tried to speak, but it always culminated in Dan crying harder, so they never got out more than one or two words. Eventually, when all the tears seemed to be gone, they pulled apart. At this point there seemed to be an unsaid agreement that they would be talking about it, but Dan excused himself to go change clothes first. When Phil was finally alone in the quiet once again, he became aware of the shrieking whistle of the kettle. Had it been going this whole time? How had neither of them noticed? How long had it been?

He pushed himself off the sofa and went to pull it off the stove. Almost all of the water had evaporated, but there was just enough left for one drink. He fixed a cup of tea and returned to the living room to see Dan already there, in large pajamas and wrapped in his bedroom duvet. He wordlessly handed over the tea and sat gingerly at his friend's side. Dan took a deep gulp before speaking.

"So uh, what do you want to know?"

Phil took a breath, steading himself on behalf of his friend. "Just start at the beginning, tell me what happened to you."

The brunette bit his lip and winced when it tugged at the irritated split down the middle. "We really don't need to get into it. You don't want to hear it, we'll just leave it."

"Dan. Please. I'm worried, it'll be okay. Just…tell me," he whispered.

Dan sighed and closed his eyes once again. "I stayed, had a drink and talked to some people. I met so many new faces; it's the most social I've been in ages. By the time things were winding down it was late and I'd had a few pints, and I didn't really feel like taking a cab. It was cold out," he said, laughing bitterly.

"And then what?" Phil prompted softly.

"I was offered a sofa or a pull-out bed or …something. I don't really remember, but I fell asleep on it. And uh," he swallowed hard and shuttered, "when I woke up I had…, I was…, I wasn't there alone."

It was a few moments before it dawned on the older boy what this meant. "Oh. OH. Shit mate, are you…fuck."

"It's fine though, I'm fine," he reassured quickly as he wiped at his red, puffy eyes. "It really wasn't that bad. I would've been able to shake them off if I hadn't been taken by surprise. W-why are you looking at me like that?" he faltered.

"They? More than one?"

"Just two, it all looks a lot worse than it is," he said firmly, sounding almost as if he was trying to convince himself rather than his friend.

"Do you even hear yourself? You're all bloodied up, you were shaking, y-you came in soaking. How did you get home anyway?"

Dan ducked his head. "Walked," he mumbled. "I'm okay, I just freaked out a moment ago. We can just forget about it."

He'd gone all that way in the snow? Phil shook his head in utter disbelief. Not only had his friend just gone through hell, he was trying to deny that it was even worth noting. He wished there was something he could do to make it all go away. He would give anything. But he knew there was no changing the past, he would just have to try his best to minimize the damage.

"You know that's not true. If it was me who'd been raped - "

"Oi!" Dan hollered, flinching violently. "Don't use that word."

Phil's eyes softened. "Sorry. If it were me in your situation, what would you be telling me?"

The younger boy opened his mouth to say something but immediately closed it. The brunette looked down at his wringing hands and jiggling leg. "What do I do?"

Phil bit his lip. He couldn't say he'd ever been through or helped someone out with something like this, so he was working off pure intuition. "Well, I think we should go to hospital. Maybe bring what you were wearing? Would they uh," he coughed uncomfortably, "would the detective inspectors find any erm, evidence on your clothes?" Dan tugged at his hair but nodded. "Then yeah, take those. And then we go from there? Do you want me to phone your mum or anyone?"

Dan thought for a moment before shaking his head. "I don't want them to know. Not yet anyway. If uh, can you…?"

Phil offered him what he sincerely hoped was a comforting smile. "Yeah?"

"If you think you're okay with it, is there any way you could stay with me through the process? You don't have to, I imagine it'll be - "

"Of course," he interjected.

Dan nodded before swearing under his breath and biting his lip. "I can't believe I… I just… can't believe I'm doing this."

It's okay mate. You're making the right decision," Phil said softly. "Now finish your tea and grab a coat. I'll bag up the clothes and phone a cab." He stood up and began to walk to Dan's bedroom before stopping and turning around again. "Thank you for telling me. It's er, it'll be okay."

The brunette chuckled harshly. "How do you know?"

"Because I'm telling you so."