'100 letters' - phan

5

—dan howell

 sits on his bed and stares down at the small, green envelope in his palms.

he can't get himself to open it. it's going to be just as bad as the last one.

his delicate fingers trace along the edges of the envelope and across the words "i'm sorry" written in pencil.

he carefully opens the envelope and unfolds the folded paper inside.

his brown eyes water at phil's familiar handwriting and the little drawings of little rain clouds surrounding the words.

"2/6/10

letter two

dear dan

i'm writing another one of these. i'm not sure if you'll even read it after what i did but know that i'm happy if you do. i miss you. i didn't think it'd be this hard to leave but it is. every day i'm reminded of us. i've tried to forget, but 5 weeks wasn't enough to forget a lifetime of happiness. i'm far away now, i'll try to stop with the letters but it's nice to get everything out, even if you ignore all of it.

i haven't done anything yet, disappearing-wise, but i will soon so you can be safe.

i love you.

i'm sorry.

yours

phil"

dan breaks down crying, covering his face with his left hand and choking out quiet sobs.

this has all happened so fast. dan feels so empty and broken. phil was his entire world, and now he's gone.

dan closes his eyes and falls back onto his bed, tears burning his face and sobs trapped in his throat.

the thoughts swarming in his head keep him from sleeping, so he just stares at the blank ceiling.

broken.

(i had like 10 minutes to write this so rip it's rushed.)