“Why do we even celebrate someone trying to blow up Parliament?” Phil whines, reluctantly grabbing his coat.

“That’s not the point.” Phil’s father mutters gruffly, having had an earful of his son’s protests all evening. “The fireworks represent the gunpowder and-”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever…” Phil rolls his eyes, rolling off the sofa and lugging himself to the hallway mirror in order to check his fringe hadn’t mysteriously misplaced itself since the last time he checked it, five minutes ago.

His father sighs at his teenage son’s vanity, questioning whether it would actually be better if they gave into his wishes and let him stay at home.

His mother, on the other hand, is a little more stubborn. “Certainly not.” She frowns. “It’s meant to be a family occasion. You used to love the display when you were younger.”

“When I was younger, I hadn’t been invited to Ross’s party on the same night.” Phil screws up his face.

“Well, that’s hardly our fault.” She raises her eyebrows. “You should’ve known. It’s bonfire night. It’s what we’ve been doing for the past fifteen years.”

“What’s wrong with one year off? Michael never had to go when he was my age.” Phil glares into space, loathing the dull banging he can already begin to hear through the  lounge windows.

“That was different.” His mother brushes off, having forgotten about Phil’s brother’s equal reluctance to go.

“How? How was that possibly different?!” Phil raises his voice.

“Now, now…” She glances at her watch; a crafty strategy to avoid any further discussion on an argument she’s probably going to lose anyway, on account of the fact that Phil’s right. “We’re going to be late.”

“Good.” Phil grumbles.

She fixes him with a glare. “I’ll thank you to remember a few manners this evening. I don’t want you spoiling it.”

“Then leave me at home.”

She rolls her eyes. “I want you to meet the new neighbours. Just moved in last Thursday.”

Phil pauses, looking up from his phone. “What?”

“The new neighbours.” She repeats. “I thought you knew.”

“New neighbours?” Phil pulls a face in disgust. His neighbourhood was a borderline family. The households had known eachother for years, way before Phil was born. Way before Michael was born, for that matter.

“Yes.” She sighs exasperatedly, as if it was such an obvious fact he should’ve already assumed.

“You never thought to tell me?” He prompts, raising an eyebrow suspiciously.

“I thought you knew.” She says airily. “The Howells, at number eleven. Nice family, they are.”

“They sound like charmers.” Phil retaliates, bitter sarcasm biting into his voice.

She glares at him again, whipping her scarf on. “I know it’s a lot to ask from you, but please just be polite.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” Phil protests.

“I think you know exactly what it’s supposed to mean.” She mutters. “Come on.” She grabs her keys from the table, before making her way into the hall, beckoning Phil to follow her.

He glowers at the back of her head, anxiously feeling for his phone in his pocket as a sense of comfort. He couldn’t exactly text anyone for moral support; they were all at this bloody party. He closes his eyes as he follows his mother into the hallway, already dreading the talk that’s going to be thrown around at school about what a great time they all had without him.

Nothing he’s not already used to, however.

“Chin up, lad.” His father nods apprehensively at his teenage son while making an effort to keep his distance. When he’s in a mood like this, Phil’s better off unapproached.

He glances up at his father, fixing him with a brief glare. He knows damn well it’s not exactly as if having his ‘chin up’ will be an automatic problem-solver. He wouldn’t magically be able to leave this stupid firework display before he’d even got there. He wouldn’t suddenly be able to go to Ross’s party. The stupid 'new neighbours’ wouldn’t move back to wherever the hell they came from.

What kind of surname is Howell, anyway? It doesn’t correspond with the rest of the families. The Lesters. The Harrisons. The Palmers. The Baileys.

Then the Howells.

He would’ve appreciated a little more information on them as well. He doesn’t know what the hell to expect. There’s the possibility of them being an old couple, in which case Phil can write off any chances at all of even thinking of talking to them. Then there’s a possibility of them having a baby in the family, in which case Phil can write off even more chances of being expected to talk to them. It’s evident the one type of person he hates more than the elderly, are fucking babies. Crying, shitting machines, as Michael, an equal baby-hater used to describe them as. It was enough of a chore getting used to their new cousin Molly after Cheryl gave birth to her last Christmas. Even then, Phil wouldn’t class little Molly as his favourite cousin, to say the least.

He could be completely wrong. Maybe they’re a young, newly-wed couple who embark on exotic holidays every five minutes like the Baileys, who are hardly home anyway. At least with that possibility, Phil can take advantage of being home by watch the Kerrang! channel on full volume without any thumps on the wall or angry doorbell rings at quarter past eleven at night.

He’s so busy wallowing in his own self-pity and quietly complaining to his mum about how cold it is he barely realizes they’re nearly there. He sighs into the icy night air, keeping his eyes on the pavement and relying on his headphones to block out as much of the dreadful noise of the fireworks as possible.

“Hurry up, Phil.” His mother sighs, holding open the gate to the field for the black-haired boy lagging a considerable number of footsteps behind them.

He rolls his eyes, forcing his slow footsteps into a lazy jog until he’s managed to catch up with his mother and the remaining members of his family.

He swerves through the small gap between the iron gate and the crooked wooden fence, slipping inside the field decorated with an orange, glowing bonfire being fed wood scraps every so often, the numerous gazebos occupied with a barbecue spewing thick, grey smoke into the surrounding atmosphere from the cooking meat, accompanied by a drinks stall standing beside it and a stall serving toffee apples and candyfloss, which, judging by the amount of small children running around the field with pink scarring their cheeks, Phil reckons has already been far more occupied than the other two stalls. The field stretches out into the dark forest framing the grassy opening, cornered off by red and white striped lines where, presumably, the fireworks were going to be set up.

He sighs, gulping nervously as he lets himself stand in the centre of the field he was as familiar with as the back of his hand, gazing at the crowd making up the population of his street milling past him in every direction.

Home from home.

His silent musings are interrupted by his mother pulling out one of his headphones and forcing him to bounce back into reality. “Come on.”

“Oh, what now?” He screws up his face in disbelief of the fact his mother can’t seem to leave him alone for longer than five minutes

“I want to introduce you to the Howells.” She tugs on his arm gently, nodding over to a family that had slipped Phil’s attention when he was observing his usual early November surroundings.

They were standing alone in a tight group of four, not talking to anyone other than eachother; obviously having not been introduced to the tight-knit neighbourhood they’d accidentally intruded.

Phil follows her, feeling his shoes squelch into the mud as he narrows his eyes, trying to focus better on the family who, thanks to the  darkness of the evening and the failure to provide any proper lighting other than a few floodlights dotted randomly across the paths, still remained pretty much unidentified.

“Hiya, Sue.” Phil’s mother grins warmly at who Phil assumes is the mother of this Howell family. In the dim light, he can just about figure out how her hair and eyes match the same chestnut dark brown colour. She smiles back at Phil’s mum, obviously appreciating her approach as no-one else had really given them much more than a second glance.

“Hi.” She replies politely, as who Phil assumes is her husband gives his mother a polite nod of greeting.

“This is Phil, my son.” Without warning, she gently pushes Phil forward slightly, forcing him into an introduction with this family.

“Nice to meet you, Phil.” She gives him an equally polite smile, while his hand is suddenly gripped by the father in a firm handshake that leaves Phil in awe of the fact his shoulder hadn’t fallen off with the force. “This is Tim, and I’m Sue.”

“Hi.” Phil glances up at Tim, realizing he’s also a proud owner of this brown hair, in soft curls on the top of his head, although greying slightly in certain places.

“This is Adam, my youngest.” She gestures to a short kid who Phil estimates is probably about seven, too engrossed in whatever his 3DS had to offer that’s apparently marginally more interesting than this firework display.

Phil can’t blame him, to be honest.

“Hi, Adam.” He nods slightly to the child, reluctant to disturb his gameplay although Adam manages a glance up, a brief smile at the black-haired teenager, before diverting his eyes back down to the screen.

Phil can’t help but notice his own waves of brown hair, the colour identical to his parents.

Well, minus the grey, obviously.

“And this is Daniel, our eldest.” She introduces a boy standing close beside her to Phil, who glances up at him tentatively, nibbling his lip.

The first thing Phil’s drawn to is how surprisingly good-looking this Howell boy is. His own dark brown hair frames his forehead in a thick fringe almost matching Phil’s, although his chocolate-shaded eyes gaze at the boy softly through the shielding hair. He gives Phil a shy grin, holding out his hand as he studies the jet-haired teenager with an equal amount of apprehensiveness. Phil gently grips his hand in a handshake about fifty times less forceful than Daniel’s father’s, and he can’t help noticing how  the cold clamminess of the boy’s hands matches his own pretty nicely.

“We’re off to get a bite to eat.” Phil’s mother nods over to the barbecue. “Care to join us?”

 The Howell parents nod gratefully. “What’s yours, Dan?”

“I’ll just get some chips, or something.” The chestnut-haired boy shrugs.

Phil’s mother gives her son an expectant glance.

“Chips for me, too.” Phil decides against ordering anything too bulky; his appetite had pretty much vanished due to the pre-bonfire pretzels he’d stuffed himself with in order to avoid having to walk around with anything as large and as awkward to eat as a burger or a hot dog. Besides, with the nerves of realizing he’s about to be left alone with this Daniel guy, he’s not sure he can stomach anything more than a couple of chips.

“We won’t be long.” Phil’s mother calls over her shoulder, the glint in her eye obviously hopeful that a little time alone would enable Phil to make friends with these Howell kids.

Chance would be a fine thing

“Hi, Daniel.” Phil gulps once they’d let go. “I’m Phil.”

“I know.” Daniel says. “Your mum told me all about you.”

“Brilliant…” He glares at the small figure of his mother walking into the distance, dreading what she’d told Daniel about her.

“Nothing bad, don’t worry.” He giggles, revealing a small dimple on his left cheek. He hesitates. “Where’s Michael?”

“Micha- oh, he’s at University.” Phil explains, surprised that his mum hadn’t got that far in sharing family details with these strangers.

“What’s he studying?” Daniel asks.

“Psychology.” Phil’s eyes subconsciously flicker to Daniel as he subtly studies the boy whenever his eyes weren’t on Phil.

“Ah, cool.” Daniel replies. “I’ve always wanted to study something like that. It sounds interesting.” He eyes Phil’s expression up and down.

“Yeah, it’s alright. Heard it’s a lot of work, though.” He sighs.

“Isn’t everything?”

“Well, compared to the 'cake decorating’ courses you can take at University, it’s probably a little more academically demanding.” Phil says.

“Cake decorating?!” Daniel exclaims. “Shut up. That can’t be a course.”

“Well, it is.” Phil says. “Michael’s friend takes it. Apparently it’s a laugh, although it’s probably not available at the real high-spec universities like Cambridge or Oxford.”

“I should hope not.” Daniel frowns.

Phil shrugs, giving Daniel a little half-grin. He can’t be more thankful that on the contrary of being half of an elderly couple, a screaming baby or even a young travel enthusiast, Daniel actually seems pretty decent.

They suddenly descend into a painfully awkward silence, both of them having no choice other than to uncomfortably stand, listening to the hum of large conversations from neighbour-to-neighbour accompanied by the quiet rhythm of background music leaking from the huge speakers either side of the field.

“Why haven’t I seen you around then, Daniel?” Phil gives into his instincts, breaking the silence before it became unbearable.

“Call me Dan, only teachers and parents call me Daniel.” Dan grins. “And, well, we only moved in last week. I guess we haven’t really had a chance to get to know anyone yet.” His eyes trail across the varying crowds they’re surrounded by, every single one having not given them a second glance.

“They haven’t been exactly welcoming, I must admit.” Phil says apologetically.

“I’ll say.” Dan widens his eyes. “I don’t know what we would have done if it wasn’t for your family coming to rescue us.”

“My mum’s known for her sociability.” Phil agrees, a fond grin growing on his face.

“The rest don’t seem too keen on us, though.” Dan says unsurely, the tone of his voice bringing a pang of guilt as Phil reflects on what doubts he had for the family earlier on in the evening. He can’t exactly complain about the close-mindedness of his neighbours, because that was him less than an hour ago.

“Oh, they just don’t know you, that’s all.” Phil excuses his own guilt, and it’s true. At least he’d made the effort to actually talk to this family. “You just need to talk to them.”

“I’d prefer if they talked to us.” Dan sighs. “Otherwise I’d just feel like we’re muscling in. We’ve already established we’ve moved in to a pretty tight-knit neighbourhood as it is.” He begins nibbling his lip, which obviously doesn’t help Phil’s guilt other than worsen it by a factor of about five hundred as he realizes less than an hour ago he’d been outraged at the remote idea of new neighbours, which was probably everyone else’s exact reaction across the street when they’d found out about the news.

Everyone apart from Phil’s mother, that is.

“Well, that’s hardly your fault?” Phil defends. “How were you to know about that?”

“Well, it’s nice of them to invite us along, anyway. Even if none of them talk to us.”

“Hey.” Phil nudges him. “I’m talking to you, aren’t I?”

“Thank god you are.” Dan gives a shaky laugh in response.

Phil smiles softly, watching as his eyes glitter in the silvery light of the moon. It can’t have been more than ten minutes, and already he prefers Dan’s company over anyone else’s in the field. He likes the Howells.

Another awkward silence unwantedly dominates the conversation, but it’s quickly saved by the return of their parents, plus Adam who hadn’t yet taken his eyes off his 3DS screen since he said hello to Phil.

“Nice.” Dan takes the two cardboard boxes of hot chips, handing one to Phil who comes to the realization since spending a little time talking to his new brown-haired neighbour, a considerable amount of his nerves have disappeared, bringing a little bit of his appetite back.

As the parents begin to engross themselves in their own conversation, and Adam’s already engrossed in whatever Animal Crossing has to offer, Phil and Dan find themselves beginning to slowly walk away from the group while eating their chips, immersed in their own conversation, although Phil can’t help but worry that without other third party company, there would be no distractions if the conversation falls into another inevitable awkward silence.

-

They don’t know where they are, but they’re sitting on a bench with a stretch of forest behind them. From the sound of the muffled music, Phil doesn’t reckon they’re that far away, although certainly far enough to be considered alone together.

“This area is so much prettier than where I used to live.” Dan sighs wistfully, his gaze travelling to the other side of the forest beyond the enormous field.

“Really?!” Phil gives him a glance of disbelief. “But this is just an old Rugby Club field.”

Dan shrugs. “It’s a hell of a lot nicer than what my town would’ve considered a Rugby Club field to be, if that gives you any idea of where I’ve come from.”

“I don’t know.” Phil sighs. “Maybe it is nice. But it’s just what I’m used to. So-… I don’t know. The novelty of it wore off about fifteen years ago.”

“How old does that make you, then?” Dan glances at him, and it suddenly occurs to Phil they don’t even know eachother’s age.

“Well, the first time I came here I was two years old.” Phil says. “I’m seventeen. Born in January.”

Dan nods. “Sixteen. I was born in June so I’m the year below.”

“Oh, okay.” Phil swallows nervously. He’s good looking, and in his age range.

Although he doesn’t let himself be fooled that someone like Dan would go for a lanky weirdo like himself. He’d never considered himself to be much of a looker, or at least not compared to the brown-haired boy he sat next to right now.

Dan softly chuckles to himself.

“What?”

“Just imagining you as a two-year-old.”

“Oh, behave.” Phil rolls his eyes, his memory flashing back to the embarrassing amount of baby pictures his family have proudly decorating the walls like a photo gallery. He makes a mental note of hiding these whenever Dan visits his house. “I’m not as cute as you’d imagine.”

“On the contrary, I beg to differ.” Dan raises his eyebrows.

Phil narrows his eyes. “How would you know?”

Dan smirks. “I visited your house once to pick up a parcel that had gone to the previous homeowner’s address. Your walls are quite something.”

“Phil, honestly.” Dan giggles. “You’re cute, trust me.”

He suddenly  cuts himself off, his cheeks flushing scarlet as he realizes he’s accidentally used the present tense as opposed to 'you were’.

Although he doesn’t correct himself.

Phil laughs it off nervously, fiddling with his scarf. He’d planned to make some quick remark about 'if you think that’s bad, you should see the ones upstairs’, although nothing comes out when any speech is attempted.

“It’s really cold, isn’t it?” Dan babbles, praying Phil can’t see his fierce blush.

Unfortunately, Phil picks up on his embarrassment, but goes along with Dan’s subject change. “Yeah, I- have you not brought a scarf or anything?”

Dan shakes his head through his newly-prominent shivers. “I didn’t know it was gonna be this cold.”

“Well, here you go.” Phil unwraps his scarf from his neck and drapes it over Dan’s, the heat of his skin still comfortingly captured in the fabric.

Dan smiles gratefully. “But won’t you be cold?”

“Nah.” Phil shakes his head, although he can’t hide his quickly-oncoming shivers from Dan forever.

“Look, here’s a compromise.” Dan takes one end of the scarf and wraps it around Phil, nudging up closer to him in order to make the scarf-sharing easier for both of them. “We’ll huddle up like penguins to keep warm.”

Phil gulps, feeling his heart leap as he takes the opportunity to slip an arm around Dan which he doesn’t object to.

They descend into a silence that’s almost completely not awkward, both of them relaxing into the rhythm of eachother’s heartbeats, and Phil can’t quite believe this has actually happened in the space of a few hours.

An ear-splitting bang suddenly interrupts their blissful quietness, followed by a rain of light showering the darkness.

“Holy shit.” Dan jumps into Phil, breathing shakily.

“Are you okay?” Phil asks in a tone of concern, having had a reaction to the firework half of what Dan’s was, given that by now he was so used to fireworks this was considered just another November evening.

“Yeah, I-… Christ that scared me.” Dan gasps. “Couldn’t they have given us a bit more warning?”

“They probably did, but we’re not exactly there to here it.” Phil compromised, smirking.

Another firework squeals as the light shoots up into the air before exploding into smithereens of glitter. Phil grins softly to himself, having forgotten just how much he loves fireworks.

Dan on the other hand, had other ideas. His eyes were firmly shut along with the peace shattering bang the silver rain had brought as he sighs out curses in a slightly panic-stricken tone.

“Do you not like fireworks?” Phil frowns after having sat through the kick-off of the display, Dan hadn’t opened his eyes once.

“Hate them.” Dan mutters, although using his dislike of bonfire-related sky entertainment as an excuse to sit even closer to Phil than what was probably necessary, his face almost buried in his chest.

“Why the hell did you come to a firework display then?” Phil frowns in the midst of his confusion, although he immediately figures his own curiosity probably isn’t helping the situation at all.

Dan briefly opens his eyes to glare at him. “To get to know the neighbourhood a little?” He raises an eyebrow, indicating to their cosy contact.

Phil smirks, having had no idea the evening was going to end up quite like this. “Well I’m glad to have met you, if that’s what you mean.”

“Fucking God.” Dan groans as another one’s let off, the bang causing a nest of birds to flock from the treetops.

“Look…” Phil gently lifts Dan’s head up from his chest, indicating up into the sky, peppered with stars and smoke residue from the fireworks. “Just give them a chance.”

“Just give me earplugs.” Dan retaliates moodily.

“Dan…” Phil fixes him with a gaze. “I’m not having you take the trouble to come all the way down here juts to close your eyes. You’re at a firework display.” He says softly.

“It wasn’t actually that much trouble to come here.” Dan mumbles “We only live down a few roads.”

“Dan…” Phil glares at his contradiction, before letting his expression soften. "Look, I used to hate fireworks too.“

"And?”

He sighs. “Have you even seen a firework? Properly?”

Dan shrugs. “Not really. It never really used to be a thing in my town. I just heard them and thought the war was still on.”

Phil can’t help a giggle at his war comment, but is quickly defeated by surprise.

“So you’ve never seen what they actually look like?”

Dan shakes his head weakly, his lip trembling although Phil can’t tell whether it’s due to fear, the cold, or nerves. Probably all three. “Nope.”

“Just-… try and open your eyes. For one.” He lets Dan gently open his eyes, although he keeps the majority of his face comfortably hidden in Phil’s scarf.

Dan gulps, breathing in the icy air as an effective technique of building up courage he never knew he had. He’d only just met Phil, and he didn’t want to mess whatever they had up by giving him a shitty first impression of a wimp who can’t even sit through a few fireworks.

“Okay.” Dan’s voice wobbles slightly, and before he’s even aware of anything else, he finds his hand slipping into Phil’s warm pocket to find his for support.

Phil’s heart leaps again at the feeling of Dan’s cold hand against his own, and gently begins to intertwine their fingers together. He fears that it’s a little too early to perform such a romantic gesture, but Dan only responds by tightening the grip.

Another firework explodes, and Dan swallows hard, his fingernails digging into the back of Phil’s hands.

Phil’s the one that closes his eyes this time, but when he opens them, Dan’s have widened.

His gaze falls onto Phil in a state of awe, his lips slightly parted in almost disbelief.

“Pretty, aren’t they?” Phil grins softly.

“Beautiful-…” Dan whispers, although Phil can’t help but notice he’s still pretty shaky.

A ruby-coloured light dances straight up into the black sky before bursting into thousands of lights. No doubt it’s a beautiful sight, although it’s not the only beautiful sight Phil currently has his eyes on right now.

Dan, who looks as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing isn’t fictional, keeps his eyes glued on the sky despite still jumping slightly whenever the bang interrupted the beautiful light show in the sky, although it’s not only the sky that the glittering, multicoloured lights can be admired in.

Phil gazes into the reflection of Dan’s gorgeous brown eyes as the boy stands frozen, open mouthed as the sky captures his attention, dancing into the darkness and creating a breathtaking contrast with the sparkling night accompanied by every crackle, squeal and deep boom it penetrates the quietness of the night with.

They’ve probably disturbed a few more birds and upset a couple of dogs, but they don’t care.

-

After the display had finished, Dan turns to Phil. He’s cold, shaken up and pretty hungry, but as long as he’s in the company of his new neighbour, whether it be wrapped in his scarf or just contributing to a lighthearted conversation, he knows he’s safe.

Phil studies the brown-haired boy, his eyes trailing to his lips before back up to his deep brown eyes, which shone tentatively in the moonlight.

Please don’t be in love with someone else. Phil’s mind echoes as he feels a pang in his heart at the sight of Dan sitting in his arms.

Dan, almost replying to his mental wish, leans in, his lips finding Phil’s in the darkness as he gently kisses him.

It’s only a shy kiss and Phil can’t say it lasted more than three seconds, but it’s still enough to make his stomach somersault.

“Thank you.” Dan whispers gently.