Love Me Again

Chapter 22- Thanks for the Memories

Phil's POV-

When we arrived home it was cold and empty and dark. We had left my bedroom light on, the tap in the kitchen was still letting out a trickle of water and a mug of hot chocolate had moulded so it was the colour of moss which made me gag so Dan had to dispose of the whole thing, mug and all. We spent the afternoon cleaning the mess we had left behind in silence, as I was still furious at Dan no matter how much I wanted to forgive him. He had used me, lied to me, and he had expected me to never remember what I had remembered back in Japan. For that a part of me hated him. A part of me wanted to walk right out of the apartment and go home and delete his number and never speak to him again, but the rest of me was begging that I forgive him and kiss him and tell him everything was alright between us. But it wasn't, and I couldn't live like this anymore.

That night I packed my things as Dan slept on the couch, a single tear running down my cheek. I only needed my clothes, my Mac and my chargers. Mum had everything else, plus things that were mine were already packed from Japan. Two suitcases were enough. Very quickly I booked my tickets online, the only time available being 11:30pm, so that meant I had two hours to kill. I spent it tidying my room incase I came across anything I wanted, but most of it was junk. On the way out I poked my head through the door at the curled up Dan, face peaceful and the touch of a smile curling up his cheeks. My heart melted at the sight of him and I let go of my suitcase hopelessly. I propped them against the wall and crept into the lounge, leaning over him quietly. I placed a gentle kiss on his head and shut my eyes. More tears spilled. My fingers gripped onto the pillow, hard, until I let go and removed my lips.

"Thank you," he whispered, startling me. I knelt down next to him but he was still asleep; he was sleep-talking.

"You're welcome." I murmured, unable to control the shake in my voice. I stood up, froze, and then nodded to myself before grabbing the suitcases and leaving the house, into the cold. I caught a cab to the train station and boarded the train with everyone staring at the adult crying late at night, yet I did not care. I wanted to be at home, and not with Dan. I could not forgive him. Never. I could not forgive a person who played me like a puppet on a string. No matter what memories of us came back, I would never go home to him.

Yet there was a hole in my heart where he had rested comfortably, and it was a pretty big hole.

Dan's POV-

The sunlight in my eyes woke me up that morning. My neck was stiff from lying uncomfortably, but I still felt well rested and fully awake. The jet lag wasn't as bad this time, thank god.

Lazily, I moved my eyes to the other chair where I had last seen Phil, but he was not there. I couldn't smell coffee so I assumed he had gone back to bed and was still asleep. Stiffly sitting up, and I yawned and swung my legs over the side so the coldness of the floor ran through my body and made me shiver. I missed Phil making me coffee every morning, but he deserved a lie in. Perhaps he had had a late night.

Time crawled by and I spent the whole morning watching Blue Exorcist until I decided it was time to wake Phil. He couldn't sleep all day; he wouldn't sleep that night.

"Phil!" I shouted, being my usual lazy self. "Phil, wake up!" When I recieved no reply, my legs took me to his room without my body's consent so I looked like Egor. Thank god no one could see me. "Lester, wake up!" I banged on his door with my head. No reply, nor shuffling. God. "Don't make me have to come in there!" I went in anyway and froze. He was not in there; his bed was empty but made, his wardrobe open but void of all clothes and his Mac was no longer on his bedside table. I twirled around, blinking to make sure I was not dreaming, before bolting for my phone and hastily typing in Phil's number. I must've typed it in wrong as some gruff guy with a mood told me to go f*ck myself. After two more mistakes I finally managed to get the right number, but he did not pick up. After two minutes of constant ringing the voicemail told me that he was not available. By that time I was shaking and I threw my phone, smashing it against the wall. I screamed in frustration. "GOD DAMMIT PHIL!" I grabbed my jacket and the keys. That was when my phone began to ring, despite the fact that it was smashed. I sliced my finger fumbling with it in my hands and blood fell onto the screen, probably breaking it even more but Phil's face was on the screen so I pressed answer and put it against my ear.