Phil woke up with a crick in his neck and his arms tangled in Dan's old uni hoodie. He'd also fallen asleep with his contacts in. Despite this he was in a good mood. He'd had a dream that night, that Dan had come stumbling in at some odd hour of the morning. That dream always left him feeling happy, possibly because it was the closest chance he had at that reality. He even thought he heard some of the sleep noises Dan used to make as he fumbled into the bathroom like a mole under a sun lamp.

After sorting out his poor eyes and donning his glasses, Phil went downstairs. The mug he'd thrown the night before was still laying in a pile of broken glass, so with a sigh he set about cleaning it up. It was earlier than he needed to be awake, but this was his new normal. The earlier he got up, the better his chance of falling asleep that night.

"Dan, coffee." Phil called out of habit.

"Ta." He froze. For a second his heart leapt, and he nearly believed he'd actually heard Dan's voice. That everything was okay. He was losing it.

It had happened before. Phil had shut himself up in his flat, stopped going out or doing anything with friends, and the hallucinations had started. He'd hear Dan pacing in his bedroom, or his voice occasionally. Or he'd walk past his room and he would swear he'd see him sitting on his bed with his laptop. Or that he could hear him talking just downstairs. The counselor PJ had taken him to had explained that the grief was getting to him, and that he needed to get out again. Chris had started having he and PJ over twice a week after that, either for games or movies or just plain sitting around on the Internet. The hallucinations went away, and everything went back to the new-normal.

That was probably all it was. He was just getting a little stir-crazy. Maybe he should've hung out with them last night. Phil shrugged it off- he could always have them over today.

Phil had just gotten a mug of coffee and had turned his back on the door when it swung open again.

"It's not instant is it?"

"No it's fresh." Phil replied automatically.

Then he froze.

"Good, that shit's gross." Phil stared as a tall, tan, young man pulled a mug out of his cupboard.

He snapped out of his daze.

Dan had just raised his mug to his lips when something smacked him upside his jaw.

"Bloody fuck!" He yelped as the hot coffee sloshed over the cup and onto him, seeping through his clothes instantly. He backpedaled as Phil swung the frying pan again, missing him by a mile. "Phil!" The pan swung past his ear. He dropped the coffee mug in favor of protecting his face.

"Who are you!" Phil shouted. "What are you doing in my house!" The pan caught Dan in the chest.

"What the- It's-"

"Get back!"

"Phil! PHIL!" Dan shouted, grabbing the handle of the frying pan. "It's me damn it!" Phil froze, if possible going even more pale than he already was.

"...Dan?" he whispered. Dan nodded.

"Yeah." Phil stepped back, staring at his best friend. Dan let go of the pan. Phil let it drop to the floor, chipping the tile and not giving a crap. Dan glared at his flatmate, who was just stood there, staring at him, as if they hadn't been in the same room just yesterday.

…Hadn't they been?

"How...how..." Phil mumbled. Dan felt uneasy. Something didn't feel right. There was something very wrong here- he just didn't know what.

"Phil? Are you alright?" Dan asked gently. He reached out to touch his forehead. "Are you ill?" Phil flinched away from him.

"You're not real!" he shrieked, hands fumbling for the mobile in his pocket. "Oh god, you're not real, this isn't real. Oh god."

"What are you talking about? Of course I'm real, what the hell Phil?" Dan gingerly rubbed his smarting jaw. That was definitely going to bruise. Phil had his phone pressed against his ear, and was staring at Dan warily. His knuckles were white. Dan took a step back, edging toward the door. Phil grabbed the pan again.

"Oh no!" He moved to block the door. "You're not going anywhere!"

"Are you mad?" Dan snapped. "Jesus Phil, what's- Hey!" Phil hastily pulled open the pantry door before shoving Dan inside. The door slammed shut behind him. "Let me out!" Dan demanded, shoving against it with his shoulder, but it wouldn't budge. Finally, someone picked up the phone.

"Hey."

"PJ!" Phil all but shouted into the phone.

"Christ- hello to you too."

"Peej you have to come over."

"What? Why? Are you alright?"

"Yes- I mean, no. I don't know!"

"Take it easy mate. What's happened?"

"It's Dan!" He could hear the concern in PJ's voice turn to pity.

"Phil...we've talked about this. I know it's hard but it's been three years. You need to try and let go."

"No, that's not- he's here! In the flat!"

"Who?"

"Dan!" Dan banged on the pantry door, and was shouting to be let out, and what the heck was going on? "He's here!"

"Phil that's not possible." Now he sounded worried. "Listen to me. I'll be there soon, but don't do anything, alright? Don't leave, don't go anywhere. Stay on the phone with me okay?"

"O-okay." So he did. PJ kept him on the phone until he got to the underground.

"I'm getting on in a minute, so I've got to hang up. Don't leave the flat, okay?"

"I won't." Phil promised quietly.

"Don't do anything 'till I get there."

"I won't. Just hurry PJ!"

"Okay." PJ hung up.

"You're getting him all worked up for nothing." Dan pointed out on the other side of the door.

"I'm not listening. You're not real." Phil mumbled, speaking mostly to himself. Dan gave up, letting his head thump against the door.

"Fine. I'm not real. Ask PJ if I'm not fucking real, see how that goes."

"You're not there."

"Of course I'm bloody not, silly me."

"You're dead." That got his attention. Dan felt his blood run cold. It should sound ridiculous and laughable, because he was very much alive, thank you. His throbbing jaw gave sound testimony to that. But there was a ring of truth to it that chilled him to the bone.

He didn't say another word until he heard PJ's voice. Phil never moved from the door, which meant PJ let himself in, which meant he either had a key or knew about the spare. When did we tell him? Dan pressed his ear to the door. He could barely hear PJ, but Phil's voice was clear as day.

"He's here. I shoved him in here." Pause. "I don't know! I was just getting coffee and-" More muffled voice. "Am I crazy?"

The door opened, and there was PJ, looking worse for wear and staring at him, slack-jawed and unnaturally pale. Dan stood up slowly, not wanting to scare him like he had Phil.

This wasn't a joke. Something was seriously wrong here. Phil had truly believed he was dead, and if his trembling was anything to go by, so had PJ. He licked his lips, and tried to speak, but nothing came out. He tried again.

"D-...Dan? Is it really...you're really here?" Dan nodded slowly, holding back the sarcasm.

"Yeah. It's me."

"But you're...you died. How is this possible?"

"I didn't die. I don't know what you're on about, we went to Prague like last week, what the heck happened?" PJ continued to stare at him. Something changed in his eyes, shock giving way to something rarely seen from him. Anger. Dan didn't have time to dodge the right hook PJ threw.

"How could you do this?!" he screamed. "Do you have any idea what you put us through?! We had to plan your funeral you asshole!"

"I'm not dead!" Dan shouted back, more out of desperation than anything else as he tried to protect himself from another punch.

"I can fucking see that!"

"Well sorry to disappoint!"

"I can't believe you!"
"Why is everyone hitting me?!" PJ paused, frowning thoughtfully.

"What happened to your face?" Dan gestured at Phil, still holding the frying pan. "Good for you."

"You see him. You can see him too right?" Phil asked quietly. PJ nodded.

"I see him. He's really here." Slowly, Phil set aside the frying pan, staring at Dan with wide eyes. Dan shifted from one foot to the other, looking back at his friends at a loss for words.

"You really thought…?" Phil looked away, moving his unblinking stare to the wall.

"Of course we did. Everyone does." PJ whispered. Dan swallowed.

"How did I die?" His friends- if he could still call them that- tensed. PJ looked at Phil, as if asking permission for something. Phil nodded, the movement so small Dan would've seen it if he hasn't been looking. PJ looked back at Dan, his eyes beginning to well up.

"Dan…you killed yourself."