A lot happened in a couple of days after that.
For one, getting along with Erica seemed to be going well; she came around for tea for a while and nothing went terribly wrong, so that was a success in itself. Aside from that, everybody spent a lot of time together on walks and suchlike – where once they ran into Summer Holiday – as well as connecting more at home with 'quality time' or something cheesy-sounding like that. The Creators spent a good chunk of their spare time with Dab when he wasn't at Evan's for the day, taking the responsibility off the Howlter parents' hands for a while, and it went a surprisingly great amount better than prior times.
Wrapping up was a good term for it.
Friendships were fixed, things had been investigated, trips had been made to new places and, most of all, everything was as it should be: perfect as every other perfect thing in this game.
London was calling and there was stuff to do back home – videos to make, friends to visit, marshmallows to eat – but at this current moment in time, Dan had other things on his mind besides heading back to the 'real' world.
There was one thing he'd promised himself that he'd do before they left; and that was swing.
It was midnight and he was currently scrolling though his phone, trying to find a very specific song whilst his friend neared the final chapter of a book he had been reading for a few days. Dan cast a glace to him and set his phone down on the table, staring to his friend until a familiar tune started up and Phil's eyes flicked up in surprise to meet his gaze.
"Is that-?" he started, as he began to recognise the beat.
Dan nodded.
"I was going to change it up a little, but I put this on instead," he said, standing up, "Because after all, it doesn't mean a thing…"
"If it ain't got that swing? Thanks, Dan; that wasn't very subtle," Phil replied, and though his tone was satirical, he still smiled.
"Shall we?" Dan offered, holding out a hand.
"Fine," Phil agreed, faking a look of reluctance and getting to his feet for the first time in a few hours. He had restrained himself from saying 'let's swing it' because that would have been very slightly weird.
The good thing about dancing to swing was that swing didn't really have a specific type of dance that went with it. You could do anything from foxtrot and ballroom to tap-dance and jive. What Dan went for – seeing as he was the lead today – was an unorganised hybrid of tango and Charleston. Unorganised because there wasn't really a plan and neither Dan nor Phil really knew any specific moves. Last time had gone well, though, and had been, in parts, impressively good.
Dan remembered back to February at the house party on one of their last days here. They had crept away to the part of the room where the computer desk was to try and get out of the way and out of sight a bit, but their plan hadn't really worked. In between their jives and waltz-like… things… were TATINOF reminiscent moves (foot taps and little jumps, mostly) that practically everybody left at the party witnessed.
This time wouldn't be as public, at least, though the music wasn't that quiet and nobody in the house was asleep yet, even if they were in bed already. They'd seen it all before.
For two notoriously clumsy and inelegant friends who hardly went outside for fear of embarrassment and tripped over and walked into things frequently, you would have supposed they would be offensively bad dancers. Not so. Surprisingly, probably due to the 'link' or whatever they wouldn't stop joking that they had, nothing was ever broken – whether that be objects or bones – and everything was, as said, surprisingly impressive.
What started off as a touch of joking around at the end of a long 10-or-so days was now something fun and pretty relaxing to do at the end of a very exhausting, and maybe a bit traumatic, almost 3 weeks.
The moonlight was shimmering in through the large windows and the back door, and the sound of swing drowned out the padding of mismatched and black woollen socks padding on the floorboards. Only Tabitha really heard the footsteps, and she smiled to herself as she sat under her duvet, knowing what was going on as she peacefully read her book.
February had basically repeated itself, sure, but not all of that was a bad thing.
A chilly air was rolling through the house and the only sounds about were footsteps and swing gradually speeding up in the background, the familiar beat matching the noise of the steps.
With his eyes drawn downwards to his and his friend's feet, Dan gave a weak smile and let his thoughts drift back to the February dance as they spun about once in time to the tune.
As the music reached a climax and eventually dropped to a calmer piano solo, Dan found himself holding his friend in a drop, which he hadn't even thought about doing, but apparently he had done. Sharing a snigger, he lifted him back up and slipped back into a ballroom pose.
His chin over his friend's shoulder, Phil lifted his line of sight to look out of the window beside the TV, and saw the familiar face of Eliza Pancakes walking past on the road outside. Why was she out and about so late? Never mind. It was Eliza: she did weird stuff all the time. Phil waved to her anyway as her eyes met his and she gingerly waved back, grinning smugly at what she saw.
The day after tomorrow, Phil and Dan had decided between themselves earlier. It seemed about time. They'd tell the Howlters tomorrow and then they could have a fine, full day together. After all, this would be their last visit. For good.
"Keep going!" Dan pushed, noting that he'd slowed down – probably getting tired already – though he soon sped up again as the pace picked up.
He needed to stop letting his thoughts run away with him. That's what he'd been doing all this journey, hadn't he? Worrying unnecessarily and thinking about things rather than focusing on what he was supposed to be doing at that moment instead. It was time to stop, and he did.
"Looking forward to going home?" Dan asked, deciding to make some hushed conversation in the short time they had where the music was calm, box-stepping away. It was a question with a very obvious answer.
"Absolutely," Phil nodded. This wasn't like last time, where something felt as if it wasn't quite right and that they had to come back again, and that they didn't want to leave: this time everything was in its place and right again. It was time to stop, and they would.
"You know, I really think…" Phil swallowed, starting a sentence but then cutting himself short before he finished.
"What?" Dan asked, curiously, in that soft voice he always used.
"…That I owe you lot for sticking with me all through these tight spots. I've been a mess these couple of weeks, and you've stuck with me – and the Howlters, too – all the way through it, no matter what. It's a contrast, really, to last time, but we don't talk about that."
"That's alright. Least I could do. You don't have to thank me."
"I do. Things come and go, I suppose, and they've done a lot of that recently. What I'm trying to put forward, in short, is… well… ta."
Dan gave a short, sharp laugh and they stepped back into a halt, letting go. The song carried on without them.
"Been an adventure, hasn't it?" he sighed with a nostalgic but somewhat euphoric air.
"You can say that again. A pretty wild ride from start to finish, I'd say. First meeting Erica in Chez Llama… then the masquerade; remember that?"
"How could I forget?"
Phil laughed,
"It was fun," he insisted. It had probably been more fun for him than for anybody else, like an undercover operation. How he managed to keep a straight face throughout it all was a complete mystery.
Dan looked, fondly, down at him. 'A wild ride' was just about right.
"Remember Granite Falls? The whole drama with Summer? The crash?"
"Of course," Phil affirmed, "I don't think I've ever had such an eventful few weeks."
"You have been a mess," Dan agreed.
"Shut up…"
And he was pulled into a warm hug.
Home time. Definitely. This was enough now; they'd had enough. London was calling. Back to a cosy apartment and warm beds, their own company and their own TV. It was time to go.