Dan couldn't believe the horrible scene right in front of him, even though he had seen it many times before, and each time it hurt a little more, and he cried a little less. He had trusted him, his secrets, his history, and even his camera in some occasions, and how much did it hurt when he felt, not only the loss, the dumbness of being lied to again, but the betrayal, over and over again. And yet, he trusted, he let Phil live in his own rent house, he let him film in front of him, he lent him his books, his movies, and shared his feelings with him. How could this be...
"Phil..." He muttered, his voice was almost inaudible, but Phil heard him crystal clear.
"Dan" Phil dropped the box in his hand, and attempted to take Dan's hand in between his fingers, but his roommate stepped away from him, and just that. No running. No crying. Not even trembling.
His lips, however, seemed to be very cold and pink, shaking badly without Dan noticing
"Dan, please...don't take this seriously..."
"How do you expect me not to take it seriously, Phil?" And, though silent tears rolled by his flushed cheeks, Dan's voice was clear, strong and firm, yet a bit husky. Grave, even. "How do you want me to...leave this just the way it appears to be, and ignore it, knowing that it will happen again?"
Phil decided not to make a move, instead, he just stayed there, heavy breathing in silence. He looked at Dan, how beautiful he was, everyone said that. They were right, Phil thought. He had never seen Dan so sad, and angry—and he had been both very sad and very angry, I can assure you.
Dan looked away, he tried to retain his tears—unsuccessfully—and let go a sigh he didn't know he was holding. The wind entered through the window and stir his curls—he hadn't fixed his hair that morning, so it ended up way too messy. He looked away, for he couldn't look at his 'best friend' anymore, as if there was a demon in Phil's eyes, waiting for Dan to sleep and then dig in his dreams.
"It isn't what it looks like" Phil said, trembling, but his swollen lips, and his flushed cheeks showed that he was, in fact, lying. Dan knew perfectly what was happening, it had happened before. But this was the last time Phil was going to fool him. As Phil extended his arm so he could gently caress Dan's tears away, the brunet sharply jerked him away.
"Don't touch me!" He yelled.
He tried to run away, and never come back to that house of horrors, not ever seeing his traitor ever again. He turned around and headed to the front door, took his jacket on the way. A few seconds later, Phil ran behind him.
"Dan! Wait!" He panted, already outside of the flat. Dan was running down the stairs, crying in silence, hoping for Phil to just go back upstairs and...die or something. Dan hated him so much. And still...
He couldn't hate him at all.
"Daniel!" And at that moment, in that slightly crowded and windy London street, everyone could hear Phil's powerful voice, calling for Dan. He was able to catch his arm, but Dan released himself from the purchase and slapped Phil.
"Get off me!" He yelled, almost panting. "How could you?" This time, his voice was weak, low and shakily, he couldn't even keep himself straight, he had to lean on the wall so he wouldn't fall. But the pain, the betrayal, was just too much, too strong. "I trusted you, Phil. And you just..."
Seeing Dan like that...Phil wanted to hug him, comfort him—but he would be pushed away. Knowing that he was the cause of Dan's pain, the reason he was crying, and leaning on a wall so he wouldn't fall onto the ground and just cry and cry. The man could hear his own heart break in pieces. He walked, slowly until he reached a place a prudent distance away from Dan, just not too far. Despite everyone was looking at them—some people even filming, they were internet stars after all—Dan and Phil felt like it was just the two of them. The wind hit Dan's hair, and froze his tears on his face.
"You just keep on...lying." Dan whispered. He wasn't crying, or trembling anymore. He felt empty, alone, desolated. And cold.
"I'm..." This time it was Phil who was crying, but wasn't going to let Dan know just so easily. So he looked away. "I am so sorry, Dan, you...you don't even know."
"I do know." With a husky voice, grabbing his jacket, he felt...satisfaction...pleasure in seeing Phil crying, lamenting himself. "I am so sorry that I had to live the same scene over and over again". Dan's intention was to hurt Phil, and that was noted in his words, his tone, the bad blood spitting out of his lips.
Phil walked, just a few steps, until he was near enough so he could clearly see Dan's moles tiniest. "Let me make a promise."
Dan stood cautious, in front of Phil, didn't move a muscle. But he straightened, so he could look into Phil's blue eyes, those eyes that were usually full of joy and innocence, and were now dark and guilty. Phil took something out of his pocket, and Dan felt insecure not knowing what it was, nervous. The shorter man then placed a finger on his lips. "I promise" he whispered.
"What?"
With that, Phil introduced his finger in Dan's mouth, and the younger boy tasted the salt in his skin and the sugar in the crusty object that it was holding. And then, Phil whispered:
"I promise I'll buy my own cornflakes."
