You Don't Know What You Have Until You (Almost) Lose It

Phil Is Gone

*Dan's POV*
Fuck. I didn't even grab my camera. Maybe I could just make a video on my phone? No, shut up, Dan, you dumb fuck. Just go back to the flat. Phil is just a person. He shouldn't be able to control how you live your life.
After a bit more debating in my head, I decide to just go to the flat. The worst thing that will happen is Phil will try to talk about it. All I have to do then is brush him off for the ten minutes it'll take to grab everything I need. I grab my wallet and phone and head out of my room at my parents house.
"Mum? I'm gonna go. . . visit a friend in London," I say, slightly nervous. She doesn't know about me and Phil. She doesn't 'Internet.'
"Oh, is it Phil? Why don't you bring him back here with you? He's so sweet," she says back.
"He's with his family in Manchester. I thought I'd come to visit you since I was alone anyway," I lie. "I'm going to make a video with my friend Caspar. I'll be back for dinner, though."
"Oh, okay! How is Phil, anyway?" She keeps asking about Phil and I think I might explode.
"He's fine." I keep my answer short to avoid having to elaborate. "I should really get going. See you later, Mum," I say, hugging her before I call a cab to pick me up. Before long, I'm making my way back home, my hands sweating in my lap. I check my phone. Three missed calls from Phil, and one incoming right now. I decline it. Five texts roll in almost immediately afterwards.

Dan, please stop ignoring me.

Can we just talk?

I just want to know what I did wrong.

Please, Dan. I know you're reading these.

I'm sorry. I don't know what I did to make you hate me so quickly, but I'm sorry. I still love you.

And that's what shatters my heart. I was a total twat to him. And he still loves me. And he's the one apologizing. He can't love me. It's not good for either one of us. So, I reply.

Stop texting me. All you're accomplishing is blowing up my phone. Tbqfh, it's annoying.

If I'm enough of a jerk, he'll stop trying to talk to me. He will find someone he deserves. Isn't that what anyone would do in his case? Less than ten seconds later, I get a reply.

Fine. I won't text or call or talk to you ever again. By default.

By default? What the fuck does that mean? Maybe I'll find out when I get to the flat. Maybe not. But I can't afford to care. I put a pair of old-ass headphones from 2009 that I left at my parents house in my ears and listen to music for the rest of the ride.
And I'm finally there. I get out of the cab and take the dreadful walk up the stairs, going slowly as possible. I eventually reach the door and I reach for the handle, my heart beating in my chest. This is going to be so awkward. The flat is open, which is odd, considering Phil is always freaked out about robbers and murderers and crap.
"Phil?" I call. Jesus Christ. I told myself I wouldn't initiate conversation. There's no response. Maybe he went out? We have left the door unlocked a few times before. "Phil? Hello?" I say again. I go to my room. It's the same as how I left it. I grab a bag out of my closet and pick up my camera and laptop, plus their chargers. I grab some more clothes and then head to the bathroom to retrieve my toothbrush, straighteners, and other things of that sort.
I open the bathroom door and I see Phil. But it isn't really Phil. Phil wouldn't do this to himself. Phil is happy. No matter what. What I see in front of me, this isn't Phil. Phil is long gone.