A/N:

Me: 'Hey, let's write a nice long chapter explaining loads of stuff! It'll be so useful for the plot! Important stuff will happen! Maybe I'll even throw in some humou-'
Petrichor: 'No'
Me: 'What?'
Petrichor: 'No. You're going to talk about Phil's eyes'

And that's how this chapter was made.

-Whisker

Phil Lester seemed OK today.

Dil and Tabitha had taken the day off so that it would give him and Dan some time to recuperate, and so that the Howlters could spend some time together with Evan.

Dan was fond of the idea of going out after dinner, so he was occupying himself by browsing through the wardrobe to find something nice to wear. Or, at least, that's what Phil believed he was doing.

Phil, meanwhile, was doing his favourite job: washing up. It wasn't particularly his favourite, so to speak, but it was the one that he found himself doing the most often for some unknown reason. And it kept his cold, spindly hands warm so that was a plus.

Washing up doesn't take much concentration as opposed to, say, tidying a bookshelf, so it gave Phil a while to think. Thinking was the thing that he did the most in this world, or at least when he wasn't with Dan.

He flicked the soap suds off his fingers, still quite distant, and turned to the left to pick up the hand-towel so that he could dry his hands. As he did, he stared down at the floor and walked in a circle, inspecting the drips of water on the tiles. He'd probably have to dry that in a second, too. As he looked up at last, he was met with Dan, standing pretty much right in front of him.

"AGHhhiii…" he yelped, trying to turn his little scream into a greeting, "…Hi…" he repeated, as if he meant to say that all along.

Dan tilted his head to the side, studying his friend's face in deep contemplation about… something?

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Phil asked, bluntly.

"Why don't people like you?" Dan whispered in not-quite-reply. It was not the answer Phil had hoped for.

"Well, for the same reason you're staring at me like that, I should think," Phil replied, flatly, squinting slightly, "How am I supposed to know?"

"No, there's something about you that people either love or hate and I don't know what it is," Dan said, squinting back, "'Cause, like… I like you... but some people don't. So what is it?"

"Dan, if I knew, I'd stop doing it," Phil sighed.

Dan shook his head and started to circle him like he was searching for something, which he kind-of was.

"It's not something you can change," he breathed, "Is it your eyes?" And he laid his fingers under Phil's jaw to tilt it upwards to see his eyes.

He was silent for a bit, thinking.

"It might be the eyes… wide eyes… sharp. They're not even a colour. Nice, though," he decided, "But that's not all of it – what's the atmosphere that you emit that makes people have such a strong reaction to you? I don't get it. Evan looks like he doesn't know how to feel about you, Dil seems a bit scared, Erica hates you with a passion, but then other people feel completely opposite… what's with that?"

"People like different people," Phil replied, stepping away from him and folding up the towel to place neatly in the cupboard, "It's just a fact of life. There's nothing you can do about it."

"But it's such a strong reaction."

"As I say. People like people. People dislike people. What part of that don't you get?"

"How does it affect you? Mentally? How do you feel when people act like they're scared of you or downright dislike you?"

Dan wasn't properly answering anything that his friend asked, but Phil wasn't about to get impatient and snap at him, so he only shrugged.

"I don't expect much at all," he said, "Why should people like me? They're not obliged to. I get everything I do wrong. I think this whole thing is having a bigger affect on you than it is on me. Don't worry yourself; I'm not fussed. I'm different, I suppose – strange, maybe. People aren't used to me."

Dan chewed his lip, staring into those sharp eyes like little sea-green… worlds. Like cameras, maybe, that darted about and picked up everything. Like lenses. Detailed. You could get lost. Every emotion possible was swimming in those eyes.

Maybe people thought he looked psychotic. Did he look psychotic?

Nobody spoke, but Dan leaned closer until their foreheads touched. He remembered his story The Urge, that was published in The Amazing Book is Not on Fire, where he'd described those eyes as 'bright blue pools of life'. It was a sickly sweet thing to say yet somehow it was a surprisingly accurate description. Apart from the 'blue' part; they weren't quite blue today – it alternated.

Phil opened his mouth to speak, but clearly opted not to and instead bit his lip. He was uncomfortable probably. Dan broke eye contact to look down at his teeth. The Urge wasn't that much of a stretch: those teeth were almost fangs already.

Every feature was so pointed and intense.

'People like people. People dislike people.'

That sentence rung in Dan's mind. There had to be something more to it… right? There was an air, definitely…

He looked back up to make eye contact and his deep, mocha eyes shimmered. It seemed for a second that he'd finally solved it and was about to say something deep and sentimental and probably really soppy, but he didn't. He sharply pulled away and took a step back.

"No," he said, ultimately, "It's the eyes."

"Yeah, I saw that one coming," Phil scoffed, turning around to make sure there was nothing else to be cleaned. Perhaps his sudden passion for making kitchen counters sparkly was what was so strange about him. Who does that? Who actively hopes that something needs to be cleaned?

Nothing did need to be tidied after all, which was just as well because he wouldn't have been able to as at that moment he was jump-scared by a sudden hug and almost had a mild heart attack.

"I thought you were walking away," he sighed, relaxing a bit.

"Changed my mind," Dan replied, laying his chin on his friend's hair. He was very thankful to have a best friend and tried to never take it for granted.

"You weirdo', Dan," Phil snickered. It was almost impossible to think that this gentle but clingy guy wrapped around him was the same one who had pushed him into a table a few months prior. The whole trauma and after-effects of February weren't something that really bothered Phil anymore. He was the sort to get up and carry on, prevailing past these things, even if they stuck around for a bit afterwards.

"Who has the bestest friend in the world?"

Well. Here comes the sentimentality. The use of the word 'bestest', which isn't actually a word, was a clear indicator of that.

Phil thought for a while.

"Sherlock Holmes?" He suggested.

"No; it's me, you idiot," Dan retorted with a frown, without missing a beat, and let go, swiftly.

"Ohhhh…" Phil hummed with a smirk as if he hadn't suspected that before the question was even asked. 'You spoon' he thought.

"What's this?" Dan asked.

"What's what?" Phil swallowed, turning about to see him standing beside the dining table, looking at something on it.

"A note…"

"It's nothing," Phil butted in.

"…Addressed to Summer?"

Dan picked it up and waved it in the air a bit. The look on his face was a mix of confusion and what could have either been jealousy or banter. Or both (however that was possible).

"As I said," Phil repeated, plucking the paper from his fingertips, "It's nothing. She came round with chocolates, I decided to write a thank you note. It's good to apologise for things that weren't even your fault in the first place – like we need with Eliza, remember? Keeps the peace. Stop being nosy, ok?" He huffed, but Dan grinned at him so he had to smile back.

"Sorry," Dan said, quietly. He knew he shouldn't annoy his friend, even if he was only teasing – at least not after yesterday.

Yesterday seemed like ages ago. So much had happened that day it could have easily been spread out over 4. So far today, though, everything seemed a whole lot calmer…

The only thing left to do, really, was attempt to get along with Erica and let their friends know when they left in the most inoffensive way possible. There were other things Dan was keen to investigate before their return home, though. One of these was Drago – the huge stuffed dragon in Dab's bedroom that somehow opened and closed its eyes when you weren't watching.

The most unnerving thing about this universe wasn't how peaceful and perfect it was, nor the people, nor the aliens or anything of that ilk: it was that stuffed toy. What's its problem? Can't it just be a normal, non-sentient object? Why does it have to blink? Does the manufacturing company know? There were many questions Dan wished to answer. Investigating the dragon would have to wait until Dab was out of the house, though. It probably wouldn't be the best idea to let him know that there might be some…thing watching him as he slept.

"Finish your little note, then," Dan decided, "We can head over to her house to post it later. Maybe we can go to Chez Llama for tea?"
"I thought we were staying clear of Chez Llama?" Phil said, pulling back the black chair (even though it was usually Dan's) and sitting himself down, "You said so yourself. Remember last Friday when we took Dab and we ordered for whoever was sitting next to us?"
"Great fun. It'll be even better now everyone's here. We can take Evan," Dan pointed out.

Phil supposed he was right. He twirled the biro on the table into his hand and fiddled with it between his fingers. He hadn't a clue how he was going to phrase this letter.

Anything that he was about to say would have been cut off, as just then the front door opened and Dil and Tabitha walked in, carrying two shopping bags. They'd been to the supermarket. They'd only gone for taco shells and milk but Dan wouldn't have been surprised if they'd returned with a ukulele and a cordless hammer drill.

"Swiggity swag; what's in the bag?"

"That's a strange thing to say, Mr Howell," Phil said, under his breath, from behind, but Dan paid him no mind.

"Food. Like we went out to get," Dil chimed in, plonking the bags down on the floorboards and shutting the white front door behind himself.

Not a cordless hammer drill, then.

"What have you two been up to whilst we've been out, then?" Tabitha asked. She was good and civil like that. Her first question was always about other people's welfare.

'Standing at an awkwardly close proximity', though, didn't sound very good out loud.

"Nothing," Dan replied. He flashed a glance to his friend as if to ask for permission to say something. Reading the atmosphere as an answer, he turned back to face Tabitha.

"We thought maybe we should… let you know about something that happened yesterday," he said.