"Dear Phil...." A Short Story Phanfic

Dan was gone. Phil was clutching to the last memories of him, but after all, the last memories would never go away.

"Dan?" Phil asked, walking into their hotel room, it was on the 9th floor and everything was so bright and colourful. He looked around,

"Dan?" Phil asked again, a window was open. A black shoe visible.

"D-Dan! Oh my god!" His fingertips were white with the pressure of the window corner in his hands. He turned his head, his face now visible. Hope shined across his face... For the last time. His fingertips lost the pressure and he tipped forwards.

Why would those memories ever go away? Phil walked into their living space, where memories of them laughing and talking made its way into his brain. He sighed. A tear running down a his face. A tear, another tear, then tear, after tear, after tear, after tear. He walked into Dan's bedroom and found a note. What was written on the front?

'Dear Phil...'