I closed the door quietly behind me and resisted the strong urge to simply crumple to the floor below it. The day had been long and wearing. I was pretty sure that the radio show was going to hit and all time low this week. But that wasn't what was bothering me, not really. It was the kiss.

I kept telling myself that I tried to push him away, tried to reason with him, but I knew that that wasn't entirely true. Not that second time. He had somehow drawn me in, tricked me into feeling that something for him, that something that I'd only ever felt for one person before. And now I was scared. I was scared that I wouldn't be able to keep it a secret. Scared that he wouldn't keep it a secret.

But most of all, I was scared that what I felt for him wouldn't go away.

Don't be stupid, Dan. It was a fling. You didn't even really have those feelings for him then, did you?

Did you?

I shook my head furiously, as though to displace my thoughts. This wasn't helping anything. The best thing to do, I decided, was to go and see Phil, check he was ok, and then pretend that I also felt ill and go to bed. That way I wouldn't have to talk to him.

Of course, I hadn't really counted on what happened when I got upstairs.

"Hey, Phil, I said softly as I entered the living room, where he was sprawled across the sofa, a hot water bottle on his chest and a blanket wrapped tightly around him.

He turned his head and smiled. "How was work?"

"It was ok. Not as good as if you'd been there of course. But it was ok. I mean, this radio show will definitely be lacking in some of your ingenious ideas….." I trailed off. He wasn't listening anymore. Instead, he had fixed me with a filthy glare.

"It was ok?" He echoed.

I swallowed. "Yeah."

"Well, it seems to me like you had a pretty good day."

"Oh yeah? And how would you know?"

He laughed. "The internet, of course. Around midday some guy called Adam Sanchez tweeted, saying he'd just kissed some "hot piece of ass." Do you know what that hot piece of ass was called?"

I didn't reply.

"His name was Dan. Dan Howell."

I closed my eyes and buried my face deep into my hands. But Phil wasn't done yet.

"It's caused quite a stir with our fans, I'll tell you that. I would never have known if one of them hadn't tweeted me about it in the first place. So Dan, I'd like to know. Is this true?"

I said nothing.

"Is. It. True." His voice was rock hard. When I looked up, my face was streaked with tears.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered.

I won't write about the rest of the argument. I think it's pretty obvious what happened. He shouted. I yelled. We both cried. There wasn't a moment where he suddenly decided it was all ok, or a moment where he forgave me because his love was stronger than his hate. If you ever cheat, there won't be that moment. The betrayal of trust takes away all the love they feel for you and replaces it with cold, hard anger. The truth is, your relationship will never be the same again, even if after some miracle they do forgive you. You've broken it irreparably. And the worst bit, I think, is that every single ounce of the pain you feel is your own fault.

PRESENT

So now I'm left here. Alone. I think the worst bit about this is that I know this is my fault. I know how easily I could have prevented it. But I didn't, and this is the consequence.

I don't know what Phil will do now. It's up to him, I suppose. Maybe he'll move out, go somewhere new. Forget about me, it's what I deserve. But it's not what I want. I miss him desperately. I miss his touch, his voice, his kiss. I miss the way he laughed, I miss how he used to mess up his hair when he felt self-conscious.

But he's not mine anymore. Maybe someday I will find him again, and maybe he'll find it in his heart to forgive me for my terrible mistakes. But right now, he is no longer mine. And I fear that the guilt I feel will never leave me.