One Night Before the Storm

Phil was crouched behind stone wall. He was filthy - mud was caked onto his stiff uniform, and blood of the people around him stained his pale skin. As the sound of gunshots echoed around him, he held on to the picture of the brown eyed boy and cried.

Phil Lester was the sweetest, most innocent boy you would ever meet. He wouldn't hurt a fly, but that didn't stop him from being drafted into World War Two. When he heard the news, he was devastated. He would leave his friends to fight in a war, something he didn't know if he was capable of. He hid his uniform in the back of his closet, hoping it would all somehow go away. But of course, it was now the night before Phil had to leave for Germany and he was putting his uniform on. His black hair had been cut short, and he felt more out of place than ever.

Since it was the night before he was leaving, Phil was supposed to go to a ball, as sort of a "last chance" to dance with girls. Although Phil would never admit it, he had little interest in girls at all. He knew what he was, but he would never dare speak of it. His mother had shared what seemed to be horror stories to him of his uncle, who was caught kissing another man. His uncle and the man were taken away, and he was told he could never speak to his uncle again. Since he learned about this, he had hidden his sexuality like a deep, dangerous, secret.

When Phil arrived at the ball, he went straight to the bar. He was never really one for drinking, but he was going to need something to get him through the night. As he scanned the room looking for a girl who looked kind that he could dance with, his eyes landed on a younger-looking brunnette soldier standing in the corner. He crossed the room, scotch in hand, to where the boy was standing.

"Hey," said Phil. The boy looked up. Phil noticed his eyes right away. They were deep brown, like coffee with no cream. Phil looked into them, and for the first time ever he felt like he wasn't broken. The boy gave a slight smile.

"Hey. My name's Dan." He replied. Phil smiled, glad to find someone to talk to.

"My name's Phil."

Phil spent at least an hour talking to Dan. He found out that they liked a lot of the same books and music. However, much to his dismay, he also found out that Dan was stationed in Belgium. From this point on, both of the boys knew that they would probably never see each other again. As they talked, they had both fallen in love with everything about each other. Dan looked around at the crowd, knowing that there was no privacy in a place like this.

"Do you want to go outside?" offered Dan. Phil nodded, and the two boys went out the back doors into the brisk winter air.

From outside, you could still hear the live music. It was late at night, and the only light was from the full moon in the sky. Snow began to fall, leaving white crystals on Dan's dark brown hair. After a moment in shared silence, the younger boy took Phil's hands and gently pressed their lips together. Phil's heart pounded. He knew what he was doing was wrong, he knew what would happen if they got caught, it was bad, it was wrong, but it felt like it was supposed to be like this. Phil gradually allowed his eyes to close. He placed one hand on Dan's waist, and gently brushed his other hand against Dan's collarbone. Phil breathed his sweet breath into Dan, filling up the smaller boy's lungs with warmth and pleasure. They kissed for what felt like forever before pulling apart, feeling content and exhilarated at the same time.

Phil looked at Dan and smiled brightly, and Dan started to sob. Phil's eyes widened.

"What's the matter? Did I do something wrong?" Asked Phil, concern filling his voice. Dan sat down on the snow dusted ground and shook his head.

"Y-your the most-most perfect p-p-person I've ever m-met and I'll never see you a-again." Dan shook as he replied, burying his head between his knees. Phil sat next to Dan and wrapped his arm around his shoulder.

"Dan, I know we just met tonight, but I love you. I love you so much. We're both going to make it through this. And when we get back, I'm going to find you. And when I find you, Dan Howell, we can go somewhere where we can live together in peace. Plan?" Dan looked up and wiped away a tear.

"Plan."

Phil, despite the fighting around him, smiled at the memory of the night. Just as he went to tuck the picture back into his jacket, he felt a searing pain in his side. He let out a scream, and fell to the ground. He hit his head off something, and then it was black.

When Phil opened his eyes again, all he saw at first was white. He remembered where he last was, a battlefield, and jumped up, ready to run. A machine beeped. Hands held him down. Beeping. A mask. Blackness again.

Phil drifted in and out of sleep for the next few days, or maybe weeks. He couldn't quite remember how to speak. He tried to call out, letting the nurses know he was hungry or he wanted to leave, but he couldn't make the words come out. He tried to stay awake. Sleep brought back the monsters. They clawed at his sleeping body, killing his friends and surrounding him in a deep gray smoke.

Phil was fully awake now. He was restless, he lived off hospital food and staying awake through the night. They told him he fell into a coma, and after he didn't wake up in a week he was flown back to the U.K. He didn't wake up for months. When Phil asked if troops were still stationed in Belgium. Nurses filled him in, telling him that while some troops where still in Belgium, many had helped Belgians escape to the U.K. and got to go home. Phil was overjoyed. Dan, his Dan, might be home. He started reading newspapers and listening to the radio everyday. They wouldn't let him leave the hospital until his speech was back to normal. he could talk, but he was still having trouble pronouncing a few things. Phil worked extremely hard, just wanting to get out and find Dan

People came and went in the hospital. Especially with the constant bombings, there was never an empty bed. Phil liked to walk around and talk to the patients that were well enough to talk. It gave him a way to practice his speech, and he hated how dull the hospital was when the was nothing to do.

One day, Phil was speaking with a middle aged lady. She had broken her arm when a piece of rubble fell on her way back from the shop. She told Phil about her son, who had been stationed in Belgium and sent back a few months later. She had been at the shop to get a cake for  his birthday. A spark of hope ignited in Phil.

"Ma'am, if you don't mind me asking, what's your sons name?" asked Phil, his voice quiet in fear of disappointment." The lady smiled.

"His name is Dan. He should be walking over any minute now, we live right across the street."

"Thank you, so much!" exclaimed Phil as he ran as fast as he could across the street. He busted through the front door, the receptionist shouting at him to stop. He sprinted across the street, disregarding traffic. He knocked on the door to the only house across from the hospital. He heard footsteps on the stairs. The door swung open, and Dan stood there, his hair wavy and unkempt. He stared at Phil for a second, and then it registered. He grabbed Phil's arm and pulled him inside, slamming the front door behind him. He smashed his mouth against his, gripping his hospital gown. They tasted the salt of each other's tears as they made out, neither of them having been this happy before.

Phil broke away. Out of breath, he said "We'll go to America. There's a place in New York called Fire Island. We'll be safe there." Dan gripped Phil's hand.

"I'll go anywhere. I love you." Phil smiled.

"I love you too."