Finding himself nervously pacing around the flat, not knowing what to do with himself now that his day was thrown into turmoil, the order that he had in his mind, get up, take meds, visit hospital, have lunch with the Chandlers, come home, take meds, shower, take meds, sleep, having been messed up he didn't know what to do.

In a desperate attempt to clear his head of all the thoughts and decisions and what ifs rolling around Danny decided to clean the flat.

Digging under the sink he pulled out a battered bucket, some scouring pads, bleach, disinfectant and cloths.

Changing out of his half decent clothes he donned an old pair of worn joggers and a faded green t-shirt and began his mission to forget, for just a few hours.

As he scrubbed he realised the walls of his flat weren't dirty grey.

The sitting room was actually quite a nice light lilac colour, the lampshade in the sitting room wasn't grey either, that was ivory.

His bedroom walls were actually a delicate blue, the lampshade the same colour, the skirting boards and window frames were white and the bathroom was in fact a pale yellow.

The bathroom floor and the scrap of laminate flooring in his tiny offset kitchen alcove were both surprisingly light grey with flecks of black and white, not the sludgy grey he always thought they were.

The ceilings were also white, not cream as he'd supposed, the noticeable difference lightened up the entire small space, giving it the illusion of being bigger and dare he say, warmer.

He threw his few rather tatty thin rugs, curtains and grimy bedding, that hadn't been washed since the last time he bothered to change them, two weeks before the night of the accident, that still bore faint blood stains from the night he scraped his chest on the broken spring, into the wash.

When his new mattress had arrived he'd simply moved the bedding from the old to the new, being so tired he'd simply wanted to sleep, without expending extra energy on putting a whole new clean set of bedclothes on.

As he carried on cleaning with the washing machine swishing and gurgling in the corner, seeing the results of his hard work come to life Danny was spurred on.

Next he tipped out the cupboards and the fridge, cleaning as he went, disinfecting every surface, every knife, fork, spoon, every plate and bowl, glass and mug, every utensil, until everything shone and the strong smell of lemon and bleach seeped through every pore.

Finally, stripping the sofa of its cushions and throwing the covers into the wash, having removed the first load and hung it over the radiators to dry, he discovered where half his cutlery had disappeared to, £40 in notes (he had wondered where that went thinking he'd dropped it on the street and it was gone forever) and £5.63 in change.

A multitude of chocolate wrappers and crisp packets followed, and enough dust to choke an elephant.

His vacuum cleaner didn't know what hit it, three times out to the bin outside the door to empty the thing out, twice pulling it apart and unblocking the pipe where detritus had become lodged, the poor thing grinding and shuddering as he manically cleaned and cleaned, definitely on its last legs.

Having rehung the now totally different coloured curtains and relaid the rugs, he shifted the sofa back flat against the inner wall, the coffee table beside it in the previously full of junk corner by the bathroom, creating a good amount of space, the huge beautiful bouquet from the Chandlers taking pride of place in its centre.

He moved the TV cabinet flat to the opposite wall instead of at an angle near the middle of the room making the whole place seem huge.

Finding a roll of wide heavy duty tape he stuck lengths around the draughtiest parts of the windows, instantly raising the temperature it seemed as the cool air from outside was prevented from seeping through.

Throwing some of his nicer blankets over the sofa just to cover the inner cushions as he waited for the covers, that were actually a pretty shade of dove grey with a black pinstripe, to dry, Danny gathered up the five black bags of rubbish he'd accumulated, and out of date food he'd gingerly pulled out of the grime at the back of the kitchen cupboards, and dumped them outside in the big wheeled bin in the communal bin store at the rear of the building.

Trotting back round to the front he gasped as he caught sight of his friend Hina, walking down the street towards him, takeaway bags in hand, waving crazily.

Surely it wasn't that time already?.

"Hey Danny, haven't seen you in aaaaaages, oh my god, I've missed you so much", Hina oozed happiness and joy as she dumped down the bags and swept her friend into her arms.

"Hina...... It's literally been two days since I saw you" he laughed as he heard the town hall clock strike 6.

He'd been cleaning for almost 9 hours straight.

"I know I know but it feels like foreveeerrrrr" his friend whined and pouted.

"I bought Chinese, I know you've been short of money and I've sold a few of my old shoes and stuff on eBay, so I thought I'd treat my best friend, being as he's injured and all, you wouldn't believe what people will pay for retro stuff", grabbing up the bags as she chatted Hina pulled him down the steps and into his flat.

Danny had actually forgotten that the injury he'd received the night of Marks accident was the reason he was off work and at home, cleaning, his ribs hadn't hurt all day and he felt really good, surprisingly the manic cleaning spree had energised him, making his skin shine with increased blood flow and his eyes sparkle.

"Wow wow wow Danny, oh my god, the place looks a-mazing, such a difference, wow the colours in here are actually really nice, and it smells so fresh" Hina marvelled as she moved around the small space, having plonked the bags on the kitchen surface.

"What prompted this?" she turned with a questioning look, one that said 'spill it Taylor, I know there's something going on, you better talk, NOW!'.

Hina was perceptive, she knew when her friend was faking it, whether it be when he was unhappy and trying to hide it, or when he was scared for his future and again, trying to hide it, or when, like right then, he was struggling with something big.

Pulling over the coffee table, placing their food laden plates and cutlery down, popping open a can of beer each Hina eyed the gorgeous sweet smelling vibrant bouquet that Danny had set to one side.

"Secret admirer?" Hina gestured, mumbling through a mouthful of noodles, stabbing her fork in the direction of the flowers.

"No, a-actually they were a....gift".

Dannys mood dropped a little as the thoughts he'd worked so hard to cleanse from his mind with his mad housekeeping day began to creep back in.

"Oh?, who from?", Hina continued to munch away as Danny ate quietly, revelling in the sated feeling as his belly once again filled up, he hadn't eaten since lunch the previous day with the Chandlers, and then he'd barely eaten half.

"You know the guy on the bike, the rider that got hit out here?" he gestured with his fork towards the road outside the window, "his parents came to see me, to thank me, apparently.......I saved his life, the paramedics said that if I hadn't undone his chin strap and stopped that other guy from taking his helmet off, he would've............" he couldn't quite bring himself to finish that sentence.

"Wow, so, they actually came and found you?" Hina gasped, "that's so nice of them" she smiled.

"Mmmmmm yeah" Dannys tone dropped as he set his fork down and took a big gulp of his beer.

"Yeah, it's.....it's nice".

Hina finished up and took the empty plates to the sink to wash, he knew by the look she threw at him as she turned and looked over while she swished the water around then set the plates and cutlery to dry, that she knew from that one short comment, that there was so much more that he wasn't telling her.

And she wanted to know.

"Spill Danny", the womans tone signified that nothing less than the absolute and complete truth, no holds barred, would suffice, she wanted to know, and she would not let it go until he had told her everything.

So Danny did, everything, every minute detail, every thought, action, high, low, fear.

The Chandlers, the flowers, lunches, treating him with care, the bags of shopping they'd left at his door.

The mirror man, Mark himself, that comes to him in the mirror, as a shadow that just like Hina, knows when he's unhappy and when he's lying.

How his physical presence was necessary it seemed for the mans recovery, how the heart monitor went crazy when Danny spoke to him, and the way the monitor shook when Danny was down on himself, how Marks heart almost stopped when he said he wouldn't come anymore.

How his own heart had beat in perfect time with the heart of the man in a coma.

How mirror man had visited him last night then left suddenly when Danny had lied that he was okay, and the note this morning saying Mark had had a relapse, how Danny hadn't slept, how he knew that both were directly related to him lying to mirror man the night before.

How he was catching feelings, even in those few short days, but he was gay and Mark was probably straight.

How he'd decided to give himself emotionally if that's what it would take for Mark to recover, fulfill his promise to see him through it, while he himself would prepare to lose it all.

His conviction that he wasn't good enough to remain in Marks life after he'd recovered, and that once the Chandlers learned of his disastrous past they wouldn't want him around.

His intention to cut contact once his role of seeing Mark back to health was fulfilled, get a head start and leave before he was told to, sparing himself the pain of being kicked down again.

Every little tiny thing poured out.

Finally exhausted Danny slumped back into the sofa, rubbing his face, drying the residual tears that wet his cheeks.

His friend simply looked, listened, brows raising and falling, mouth turning up and down at the corners as the different highs and lows flowed forth, shaking her head or nodding, and finally looking thoughtful as she considered everything he'd said.

After a good ten minutes, Hina looked across at her friend.

"Do you want my opinion?".

Danny nodded almost pleadingly, yes yes he wanted her opinion, more than anything, he wanted to know if he was going crazy, already gone crazy, or if she even believed him.

"Then I'll give you my opinion".