You Smiled Because You Knew ||Phan||

Chapter Four: Bye, I Guess

        Phil was gone. But at least he had the decency to find his own place to hate me instead of kicking me out. I felt so weak without him. I didn't even know I needed him this much. Actually, I just never thought this day would come. Doesn't matter, anyway. Love doesn't matter. Life is pointless. There is really no fucking reason to be alive anyway.

        I had panic attacks everyday now. Phil used to put his arms around me and try to slow my breathing, and it hurt that he wasn't here, but what hurt worse were the memories. Not of Phil, even. But of my mother.

        "Dan, what are you doing?" My mum burst in my room rudely, to find me curled in a ball, hyperventilating, mumbling to myself, and crying.

        "I-I-" I couldn't manage actual words. Poor 16 year old Dan had to be at work in 2 hours and hadn't slept yet.

        "Bloody hell, boy, speak!" She shouted.

        I winced as her voice grew louder, my heart beating out of its chest. all I could think was I'm gonna die I'm gonna die I'm gonna die.

        "It's two in the morning, Daniel, get the fuck to bed!" She started to leave.

        "I-I'm sorry," I choked out as she turned off the lights.

        "Worthless  little faggot," She mumbled as she shut the door behind her.

        I  sat there in the dark, sobbing and hyperventilating until 4 am came and I had to get ready for work.

        2 years later, I was sound asleep, just having graduated from high school the night before. It was around 8 in the morning when I heard rustling in my room.

        I started, sitting upright in bed. "M-Mum?" I blurted, seeing her throwing-quite literally- all of my shit into a suitcase. "What are you doing?"

        "You're graduated now," She roughly slapped the suitcase on my bed. "Get out." She breathed.

        "What?" I asked.

        "You heard me. You gather your shit. Get out of my house, faggot."

        The words echoed in my head to this day. Get out of my house, faggot.

        No, Phil didn't tell me that. But this was worse.

        Days were long and I had forgotten how to sleep and I hadn't had a live show or made a video since. Phil's continuing with Radio 1. He told the fans we've "grown apart". He moved out and he said we're still friends, we just both need to focus on ourselves. Complete lie. The fans are devastated. But- so am I.

        It hurts. Everyday. All the time. Seeing Phil's videos and listening to "our" radio show kills me. He seems better. Happier. Without me.

        I opened my laptop and the first thing that popped up on YouTube's home screen was Phil's face. He'd made a new video. I debated watching it or not for quite some time, until I just said fuck it and clicked on the thumbnail.

        "Hi guys!" He said happily. Except it wasn't happy. It was Phil's fake happy. Why on Earth would Phil need to be fake happy? I thought.

        I found myself crying as he gave a tour of his new apartment.

        "-and I'm really happy here, but living on my own is going to take some getting used to. It's a bit lonely."