Danny is nine-years-old, sitting on the beach in Hawaii with his aunt, when he leans over and whispers to her, "Auntie. I'm not like other boys am I?" She chuckles in her knowing way and says, "Daniel, you never were." His eyes fixed to the bright swell of sun on the horizon, it's slow death bleeding out and painting the sky Monet hues of vermillion and scarlet and rose, Danny says "I'm going to miss home," and his aunt grabs his shoulder gently, whispering "your home is in your heart."
When Danny and his parents arrive at the airport, his aunt hugs him close and gives him one last piece of advice: "Daniel," she says. "Love is always worth it."
Danny is nine-years-old, walking hesitantly into his first day at his new school in Beacon Hills, California. Twelve minutes later a lanky boy with dark blonde hair and pale blue eyes extends a hand and smiles, "I'm Jackson Whittemore and everyone here is boring but you're not from here so you're not boring. What's your name?" Danny's face splits into a wide grin and his dark eyes shine. "I'm Danny Mahealani. I just moved here from Hawaii." Jackson slowly repeats "Ma-he-a-la-ni," before shrugging and boasting "my parents have a house in Hawaii. And Rio. I never get to go with them, though." From that moment the boys are inseparable.
When they're fourteen, Jackson pulls Danny aside after school one day and says "Bro. I'm in love. I don't know what to do!" Danny thinks for a second, his mind taking him back to the airport when his Auntie told him the most universal truth he'd ever encountered. He drags in a breath and tells his friend, "Love is always worth it." Jackson smiles, and even though the relationship is short lived; Jackson having a tendency to become bored with anything he gets almost immediately, he thanks Danny for the advice anyway.
One weekend Jackson's parents are in Rio or Paris or London and the boys have the Whittemore estate to themselves. Naturally they get shitfaced on wine coolers and watch movies where everything inexplicably explodes upon contact with anything else. Jackson turns, leaning too-close to Danny's smiling face, and says, "Why don't you ever date anyone?" Danny's head tilts to the left for several minutes before he says "I'm waiting until I'm in love." His heart feels heavy because Danny has known since he was seven that he'd never have a girlfriend and his throat feels choked with all the times he could have told his best friend but hadn't. It isn't as if Jackson would be upset; no one in Beacon Hills really seems to care about things like that- Danny knows for a fact that one of the most popular seniors is gay- but for whatever reason he holds in the truth.

Danny is fifteen and starting high school in the fall when he meets Haven at a book store downtown. The boy is seventeen and tall, with long dark hair and mismatched eyes; one a curious shade of green and the other an amber brown, and Danny is immediately enraptured. It's as if this boy is South and Danny Mahealani is a bird seeking solace from the winter chill. They meet by accident four times before they agree to meet up on purpose for coffee. Surprisingly they have a lot in common and when Haven's hand graces against Danny's tanned skin he feels a jolt in his heart. He thinks, this is it. This is love. It must be. And for a while, he's right. It's not until they're hanging out nearly every day that Jackson finally calls, voice dark with accusations, saying "Who is she." Danny feigns ignorance, but he should know better. After six years they can read each others voices as easily as they can read children's books. "Seriously dude, if you're going to ditch me for some bitch you could at least tell me," Jackson yells before hanging up. Danny stares at his phone until the line starts beeping. They don't talk for a week, but then everything is back to normal.

Halfway through his freshman year Danny is laying on his bed under Haven's laborious gaze while the older boy sketches him. He feels like a butterfly, pinned down with mismatched tacks and observed behind a glistening aegis of glass. He feels beautiful when Haven tosses his sketchbook aside to pin Danny down with his arms instead of his eyes. Their lips are working over each other when Jackson walks in, freezing with a sharp inhale before chuckling and leaving. Haven doesn't seem to notice, but it's all Danny can think about. By the time Danny finds Jackson the tall boy is sitting quietly in the park and the sun is just beginning to dip below the horizon. "Why didn't you tell me?" Jackson asks and Danny realizes he has no answer. There is no reason. So he shrugs. "This isn't an excuse but if it helps, it's not like I'm dating him. That ship sailed a while ago." It's Jackson's turn to shrug. "I don't mean about him. I mean why didn't you tell me about you?" Danny says, "because it's not important. Who I like doesn't define me. I don't think I really need to tell anyone." Jackson's eyes meet his and he nods, slowly. "Why haven't you hit on me?" Jackson asks and Danny's eyes go wide, one eyebrow dancing upwards in confusion. "You're not my type," he half-lies, and Jackson laughs out loud before placing a pale hand on Danny's cheek and leaning in to kiss him. "That's ridiculous," Jackson begins, mouth pressed hot to Danny's ear, "I'm everyone's type." Danny laughs, and then kisses his friend back. "I don't want anything to happen in case it doesn't work out. I like being your friend." Jackson sits, quietly, for several minutes before smiling and wide and saying, "Daniel," saying, "Love is always worth it."