His breath catches, more obvious this time. Louis touching there and—

It's happened before? Louis leaning over him, the reading room made dim for the evening, not yet cycled into its dawn hours. Louis, looking at him, and there's a can of Coke with Arabic script on the branding on the table, before, before—

Just a dream.

"Louis."

A pleading note, starting to sound lost. Daniel doesn't want to shove him away, but he doesn't want to be fucked with, either.