When Dan Howell stepped through his front door, he was immediately confronted with the scent of gas. He knew the smell well by now… too well.
He considered calling the gas company but decided that he didn't care; he almost wished the boiler would combust and set fire to the house while he was asleep so he wouldn't have to live alone and might even be able to be buried with his best friend.
He made his way up the two flights of stairs in silence, his face expressionless, he was just in pure shock; it didn't feel like real life, he couldn't think straight.
Pushing open the door to the hallway, he stared down it, dizzily, and saw that both the bedroom doors were open, the sun shining in through Phil's window and out of his door.
Dan decided he'd dig out the box later; for now, he just wanted to get settled.
He took his shoes and coat off, carried them into his room and put them away, silently.
It was so quiet in the house, it was almost scary.
Sighing, he turned to make his way to the kitchen and pour a glass of water.
He managed not to walk into the glass door – even though he was still a tad dazed – and made his drink before walking, shakily, to Phil's room and standing in the doorway.
He gave a loud sigh and his eyes watered.
There were various items of clothing strewn about on the bed (from the night before when Phil couldn't decide what to wear), including a yellow plaid shirt; the very one Phil wore when they filmed the first Phil Is Not On Fire a day after they met in person for the first time.
Dan placed his glass down on the chest of drawers and took his t-shirt off to put on the shirt. He didn't know why – he just wanted to feel closer to Phil, he supposed.
He had no idea what this 'box' in the drawer was supposed to contain, either, and he almost didn't want to find out – he knew he'd cry when he read the note, too.
But he opened the drawer anyway.
Sure enough, beneath hundreds of pairs of odd socks, there was a little brown box – a bit smaller than a shoebox.
Dan took it in his hands, closed the drawer and sat down on the bed before opening the top and putting it down beside him.
Inside the box was a note written on a sheet of folded A4 paper, the words 'To Dan' written on it, which Dan unfolded and began to read.
'Hey!' It began, 'If you're reading this, I'm… probably dead. I just thought it'd be nice to leave you a little letter that you could read whenever you felt a bit alone. There's a few things I'd like to mention, requests, like: if they insist on dressing me for burial or whatever and you have my glasses, tell them to put them on me. People always say I look good in glasses, and I want to look my best, don't I? If possible, could you choose your favourite picture of us, too, to have at the funeral? You can have all my clothes if you like, there's no point getting rid of them and you could do with some brighter colours in your wardrobe. And any of my stuff you happen to like, you can hang on to, too. Keep Lion beside your bed and… try not to lose him. Do whatever you want with my bedroom, I don't care, it's not like I'll need it; you can turn it into a gym that you never use, for all I care. Just have fun, alright?
'And Dan? Don't be sad, OK? I've probably told you before but it's important. And if this is your fault, know I forgive you. You're the best friend that I ever had and I thank you for that.
'There's a load of stuff I've been hoarding in this box for you to say thanks, so have fun looking through all this. Don't know how old it all is, like, but I don't suppose you'd really care.
'There's not a lot I need to say, really, that I haven't said already, so just remember what I've said before. Don't delete my channel, just do whatever you want with it, make it another of your own channels if you like but whatever you do, don't delete our memories.
'One last thing: look on the bright side; at least I won't be eating your cereal anymore, right?
'Alright, Danny, I'm going to go now (besides, I'm running out of paper), so go and do whatever you want and have fun – remember, don't cry, craft (Sorry, couldn't help myself). Goodbye, Dan.
'Lots of love,
Philly :)'