Should I Stay?

Where did the party go

DAN POV~

Somehow I had managed to fall asleep last night, after hours of lying in bed and staring at the ceiling. I couldn't quite comprehend what had happened, but I knew that I needed to talk to him. Surprisingly, I had woken up at a kind of decent time, so I pulled myself out of bed, using the thought of talking to Phil to get me up. He was always up before me, so the house seemed strangely quiet. I pottered from room to room, hoping to catch glimpse of his beautiful blue eyes and jet-black hair, but instead I couldn't find him.

I began to panic that he had left, and he was not coming back.

I ran into his room and saw his computer lying on the bed and his charger plugged in at the wall, and realised he would never have left without these, so I began to relax, and felt so relieved I began to feel faint, so, walking to the living room, I swiped my computer off the table and slumped into the browsing position.

Tumblr kept me busy for a few hours, along with some trips to the kitchen to get random bowls of cereal, but after spending around 5 hours alone I was beginning to worry. The longest I ever spent without Phil was a couple of hours at the most (apart from family visits etc) and it hit me just how much I was dependent on him.

What was I supposed to say to him when he came back? What was I supposed to do? Maybe he regretted it. Maybe he realised just how weird I am. Maybe he decided that he would rather be without me. Maybe he realised there was no point because he was going to America in a few weeks.

Shit. I forgot about America.

The sick feeling that I had become so used in the last few weeks resurfaced, and I swallowed, trying to keep it down.

A ding from the doorbell distracted me from my thoughts, and I rushed over and flung it open, waiting to see him.

But it was just a postman.

He handed me parcel which I signed for quickly and, without either of us uttering a single word other than a quiet thank you from me, shut the door, walking back up the seemingly never ending flight of stairs that led up to our flat.

Even though it was addressed to Phil I felt too curious to just leave it unopened, so I ripped open the packaging and tugged out the contents.

It was luggage labels for his trip.

Well, it was not really a trip. A one way journey.

His destination was printed clearly in bold on the inside of the star covered cover (trust Phil to pick out the child's one) and on the front his name and phone number was written. I flipped it over, expecting our address, but the realisation that it would no longer be his address in two weeks was like someone had stabbed me with a knife.

I attempted to put the parcel back together as if it had never been touched, but I'd managed to rip the box, so I decided just to admit to him that I'd opened his mail... When he arrived.

As if he had heard me thinking about him, he opened the door, slamming it shut behind him. I heard him trudge up the stairs and go into his room without even bothering to utter a single 'hey' or anything like that. I knocked on his door.

"Phil, can we talk?"

"Sorry Dan, filming video."

He couldn't even be bothered to reply with a full sentence. That was obviously how much I meant to him. That hurt.

I walked back into the kitchen where the box was lying, the contents spilling out. I picked it up, but a drop of water fell on the front. I looked up, looking for signs of leaking, but I couldn't see anything. Another one fell and as I wiped it off I realised I was crying.

I did the only thing I could think of. I wasn't brave. I didn't go and talk to him. Instead, I ran to my room and cried.

PHIL POV~

            After replying to Dan I set up my tripod and flicked on the lights, distracting myself from the growing lump in my throat by focusing on the technicalities of the equipment.

            I was filming my goodbye video.

            I hadn't written a script. I hadn't even thought about what I was going to say. I was just going to speak.

            Anything bad could be edited out later. I just needed to talk to someone. Even if that someone was a black camera and a tripod.

            Halfway through filming a picture that I'd put up ages ago and never really looked at caught my eye. I was smiling next to Dan, who had his arm around me. We were in the Maid's Café, and we both seemed so... happy.

            Maybe I wasn't making the right decision. Maybe something could work.

            My voice cracked halfway through my sentence but I was started from the beginning, desperate to finish the video I had been dreading making but knew was necessary.

            I lent over and switched off the camera, pulling out the SD card with swiftness that came from years of practice. I plugged it into my computer and watched as the tiny thumbnails flickered to life on the screen, mini Phils all talking.

            I skimmed over the first bit which was just me fixing my fringe and making sure the lighting was perfect, and focused on the rest of the video. Most of it was just pure waffle, and some bits I had to cut out due to the tears that were obviously forming in my eyes.

            I reached the part where I stopped and stared at the photo and the sadness was so evident in my eyes that I slammed the computer screen shut, and decided to continue later when I wasn't in danger of having a break down.

            Was it even the right thing to do, to post this video? That meant there was no turning back, and that that was it. Once the Phans knew I couldn't pull out.