Sinking

epilogue

There is something serenely beautiful about waking up next to the person you love on a Wednesday morning.

There was a time when I thought the only thing beautiful about days like these was the sunrise. Now, I know there are better things. About every day and every morning.

It's been eleven years since Phil kissed me. Ten since the second New Year's party.

Ten years. It echoes in my mind sometimes, that number. I often wonder how the world felt like it was ending that long ago, and it had really been beginning.

A lot has happened. We continued university for three more years, and when Phil ran up to me holding his degree I felt nothing but pride. Our friends all felt it, too.

Troye has sold three albums and gone on four tours, and now he's this big name guy but still just the Troye who will always be one of my best friends. Felix and Marzia have gotten married, and so have PJ and Sophie. Louise and Zoe are makeup artists. I'm a sort of kind of famous painter.

The day after my big art show in London, Phil and I decided to travel the world, following the promise we'd made to each other so long ago in that abandoned amusement park. We packed up and left with only a phone call to our friends as a goodbye.

Phil wrote a book while we traveled, and I painted the scenery. We were holding these two journals that were so different and yet held the same things in them. We were holding our lives, not just our own but each other's, in the art that we made.

We went to America, Mexico, Chile, Jamaica, Hawaii, Madagascar, Australia, Japan, India, Egypt, Germany, Switzerland, France, and Italy within the span of one year. We made memories that are impossible to explain because they're just so ours.

The minute we got home, Phil proposed.

We were jet lagged and it was three in the morning and I was complaining about wanting a sandwich, and instead of rolling his eyes or complaining because he was as tired as I was, he stopped and looked at me. I remember looking at him in confusion and focusing on that smile, wondering what he was planning. He had had that glint in his eyes that he always has when he's going to do something.

"Dan," He'd started, his voice close to a whisper, and I huffed out a breath, an indication that I wanted him to hurry up because all I really needed was a nap. "Can I ask you something?"

"What is it?" I'd furrowed my eyebrows; what could he possibly need to ask me in an empty airport at this time of night?

"It's going to take some time to build up to it, hang on and listen to me," He'd laughed. The suitcase in his hand had dropped to the floor and been replaced with my hand. "Do you know how many times you've promised to never leave me?" I shrugged in automatic confusion as to how this was relevant to whatever he was going to say. "It's a lot," He explained. "And do you know how many times I've said it to you? Maybe once."

I interrupted. "That's not a big dea-"

"I want to make it twice," He informed me. "I want to tell you that the last five years have been the best I'll probably ever experience. But that won't be the case if you stay with me. Every year from now will be the best one. Every day will, just as they all have. The past year made me realize something. I could be anywhere, doing anything at all, and I would be happy if you were beside me. I could be in an abandoned house in the middle of the night with no flashlight and no way out and I would still smile if you were there. You and I, we get through everything. You're so strong and that strength has made me strong. I could write a thousand analogies about how you hold me up. I could write a thousand books just about your smile. Maybe I will.