"I don't think you meant to do it," Louis says slowly, lacing their fingers together. Taking that small touch and turning it into a link, holding on as he explains, "Or that I was able to think to ask you. You were standing beside the bed, and you cast a shadow across me."

Is it all a dream? A story they're telling themselves?

It feels real. The shape of a thing that fits into the pain-blurred voids they hadn't managed to parse out in the span of a single lunch break.

Louis turns Daniel's fingers in his own, thumb moving across his knuckles, grip tightening and loosening by turns. Familiar. Tethering, while Louis' thoughts turn inwards by degrees.

"I don't know if it's false. It feels real."

And then:

"You're the only other person in the world who would know. And you're better at this. Putting together what we lost."