~Just smile. It's all make believe~

Le writings in ~these squiggles~ are thoughts.

The empty room still smells like you. The kitchen still has your lion cereal. The bathroom still has your raspberry body wash. The living room still has your movies and video games. I still remember the day you left. I still remember the day you screamed you hated me and walked out. I remember the day when you decided I wasn't good enough. I remember the day when you told me that simple, lovely lie.

"I love you Phil," I said. Silence.

"I love you too." You had said.

But it was a lie. You didn't mean it. That was you, getting out the easy way. And it was a lovely lie. A lie that I had waited so long to hear. Those four words coming out of your mouth. A lie that those blue eyes told. The words came out so smooth, so perfect. Just like I dreamed they would, just like I hoped. And I believed those little words. All for a moment.

Until you left. Three hurtful words. An ugly truth. A simple statement. It tore me apart.

"You lied to me!"

"You should have known! You know I'm not gay!"

"You never told me!"

"You're an idiot, you know I love Melody!"

"You're a freak."

I still check your twitter, YouTube and facebook everyday. Do you still check mine? Do you still check mine, making a joke out of everything I post? Because I do. I still sit there, reading all your tweets. You deleted all those videos with me in them. Or you edited me out. It seems as though you've deleted and edited me out of your life too. You stopped following me on twitter. You unfriended me on facebook. That's okay. I can deal with this pain.

"I hate you!" You screamed.

"I'm sorry..." you didn't hear, "you're my best friend."

You didn't hear that either, the slamming door echoing through the flat.

It's been months now. My phone is off. I stopped checking your twitter. I stopped watching your videos. I blocked you from my facebook.

Are you happy now, Phil? Are you glad with what you've done? Are you impressed by the pain you've caused me? Are you satisfied with how broken I am? Are you disgusted that you kissed me? Are you happy to be gone?
Because I am. I'm happy now. I'm glad with what you've done. I'm impressed by the pain you've caused. I'm satisfied with how broken I am. I'm disgusted that I kissed you. I'm happy you're gone.

Carrie, Alex, Charlie, Chris and Pj think I'm not. They don't get it. I'm happy.

It's been three years now. I had forgotten about you completely. I had edited you out of my videos. I stopped following your twitter. I stopped making videos a year ago. I had erased you from my life completely. I got rid of the Dan and Phil shirt and poster, your bed, your posters, your stuffed toys, your video games, your movies, your belongings in the bathroom, even your cereal.

Knock knock knock...

I hear the door. I switch off the T.V, pushing the Malteasers off my lap. I got to the door, not bothering to look through the peep hole. I twist the handle, and pull it open. I see a man. He has black hair that ends a few centimeters below his ears. His eye's are a icy, warm blue.

~Who is this man?~

He's a bit shorter than me, and looks older than me too. He has a bag slug over his shoulder, and a ring on his finger.

"Dan?" He speaks. That voice. It sounds so familiar. His red lips curve into a smile.

"Who are you?" I ask, confused. His face falls. He looks at his feet, tugging at his blue and black jumper.

"It's me...Phil," he says, looking up, eyes big and sad.

~That shirt.~

"The same shirt you walked out on me wearing," I say before I can stop myself.

"I'm sorry, Dan," he steps forward, "I really am..."

"No. No you're not."

"I didn't want to leave-"

"You lied. You told me you loved me," I say, "you're a down right jerk."

"I did love you-"

"No you didn't. What, after your marriage break-up, you think you can just come back here and I'll welcome you with open arms? Think again..."

Phil's hand reaches out, and grasps the front of my shirt. He pulls me towards him. His lips brushed over mine, until they crashed down. A lovely, terrible memory came to mind.

I reached forward, grabbing your shoulders and pulling you towards me. You didn't protest.

His sweet lips were held against mine, almost begging to stay against my own forever.

Our lips met...

I wouldn't allow that. I push you away, staring at you in disgust and disbelief.

You pushed me away, shocked at first, but it's quickly disguised as happiness.

"A beautiful, lovely lie..." I whisper. Your face is full of confusion and hurt.

"I'm sorry,"

"Leave."

"I really do love you,"

"Get out."

"I could never hate you."

"Liar."

He wraps his arms around me, my heart melts. Half of me is screaming to let him in and stay forever, to be together like we promised. Yet, another half is telling me to slam the door in his face, make him think about it, make him suffer. Like he did to me. Like he slammed the door in my face.

The slam echoed throughout the cold flat, leaving me standing there, tears streaming down my face.

I pat his head, signalling for him to let go. He doesn't. He holds me tighter.

"Phil," I say, expressionless. He doesn't let go. I sigh. He decides to let go after three minutes. He looks up at me, eyes hopeful, "I hate you."

And then the door slams.