The Boy With The Blue Eyes; Phan

Hey, Phil. When Was This?

I don't notice the tears falling down my face in the morning because I had gotten used to them over the night.

I'm sitting in the lounge, while Dan is putting his stuff into boxes, all the work and time being thrown away.
He stops and comes over to me, "Phil. Please. You can't be serious."
I look away, trying desperately to not cry.
He sighs, and starts walking around to get more of his stuff.

He comes across a picture of us in 2014.
"Hey, Phil. When was this?" He raises an eyebrow.
I walk over to him and take the picture.
I look at it for a few seconds, and stare into Dan's eyes.
I grab both corners of the picture and-

Riiiiip.

I throw the pieces on the floor and walk into another room.
I hear Dan sniffle as I close the door.

I come out of the room a few minutes later and the pieces that were once on the floor are gone.

Dan is sitting on the couch with his face in his hands.
"Phil.. Please let me explain. I don't want to leave, Phil please!" He raises his head to look at me.

I stare down at him, hating him, but I'm so upset I don't even know if I do.
I nod no. And he gets on his knees.
He takes a fist of the end of my shirt and holds it to his face. "Phil... Please!"
He starts sobbing loudly into my shirt and I can do nothing but stare at him.
The sobs get a bit quieter and holds half of his face with his hand, and cries.

I want to reach down and wipe away his tears,
Or I did.
But now I want to throw him across a room.
To be fair, I feel bad.
But this shouldn't have happened.

We stay in the same position for a while.
And Dan stands up and puts his hands on my shoulders.
He looks at me.
He's been crying all night. His eyes are red and puffy. Bags under them, his skin looks soft but the color has drained.

He notices that I'm realizing how bad it has been.
"Can we talk?" He whispers.

"I'll help you pack, Dan."
I remove his hands from my shoulders and go over to the boxes.

It's just a few of them.
He whimpers and realizes there is no coming back from this

And he's right.

I carry the boxes down the stairs and come back up. He looks at me as he goes behind the door, ready to leave.

He turns around just as I am about to close the door.
"Phil. Please don't close that door." He says.

I look down.
"I guess this is moving on."

I slam the door.