«Dan.»
I'm sitting on Phil's bed, like I always do. He doesn't mind it, although a few nurses have given me dirty looks before. I don't really care.
«Yeah.»
«I'd like to hear you play the piano sometime.»
«I'm not that good, Phil.» He shoots me the look that means 'Please shut up, Dan' and I do. I shut up and I roll my eyes at him, but after a moment I speak up again.
«Okay. We can do that.» I smile a little, and he does the same. I'll never get over his smile and how he looks at me. I probably look at him the same way.
«Hey, Dan.»
«Yeah?»
«Thank you.»
«For what?»
He doesn't answer.
I used to hate hospitals, before meeting Phil. Now it's like it's my home, or something. I'd much rather be here with Phil than outside without him, that's for sure.
The operation is tomorrow and I still can't bring myself to tell him about it- He doesn't need to know, he just has to do his best and survive.
I feel like it would be selfish to tell him something like 'Don't leave me,' or 'Do it for me,' or 'Dammit, Phil, you can't just die on me, okay?'
Everything is going to be fine.