fanart by @colouringtroyler

It's Christmas Eve. It's been four days since Phil and I last talked. We visited PJ everyday, watching him slowly die every hour without him knowing.

I had only seen Phil once since that day, and that was when I happened to look out my window the same time he was taking out the trash. He looked like hell, his hair messy, bags under his eyes, an oversized sweater on and shorts. I longed to run out and hug him, but I knew I was the reason for his pain.

"You should talk to him," Chris sighed behind me, fixing his hair for the Christmas party tonight. I shook my head.

"It's best if I don't," I replied, looking away from my window to sit back down at my dresser and continue straightening my hair. "He deserves better. I'm not what he needs."

Chris groaned. "How would you know what's best for him if you won't even listen?" I bit my lip, not replying. "If he comes to the dance, at least make eye contact with him. He has to know you at least feel the same as he does right now."

I exhaled, annoyed. "Fine."

When it hit eight o'clock, Chris and I left in our tuxedos and santa hats. I looked through Phil's house only to see all the lights off, as if nobody was home.

When we got there we hurried to the buffet table, munching down on Christmas cookies and peppermint cupcakes. When I turned, however, I lost all appetite.

Phil Lester was looking right at me.

He was in a tuxedo, his hair quiffed back and his back leaning against the wall, his arms crossed. I gulped, being reminded of when we went to dinner together.

Eye contact: check.

I nearly dropped my cookie when my phone rang, snatching the device and holding it to my ear. "Hello?" I murmured, watching the couples waltzing around me to cliché Christmas music.

"Is this Dan?" A man asked. I blinked, and Chris looked up at me.

"Yes, why?"

"PJ Ligouri has passed," he started. I felt sick.

That's when I felt another emotion erupt through my veins and rip through my skin. Complete and utter sadness.

My eyes watered and I grabbed onto Chris's arm for support, trying to steady my breathing. Chris put his food down, looking down at me worriedly. "He wanted to tell you and your friend Chris to have a merry Christmas, and that he knew you'd keep your promise."

I breathed heavily, trying to hold my tears back the best I could.

"Okay, t-thank you." And then I hung up, dropping my phone on the floor. Chris looked down at me.

"Dan? What happened?"

"PJ- Chris, PJ is dead," I spoke, gripping his suit tightly. And then wasn't confused anymore, instead his parted lips closed and curled downwards.

"Come on, I'll get us a cab home," he told me softly. I nodded, feeling numb all over again. The two of us trudged out, not losing my grip on him. I turned back to look for Phil one last time but he wasn't there anymore. A taxi arrived, Chris and I climbed into the yellow vehicle.

The drive was silent, getting home and going inside.

That's when Chris broke down. He had shut the door, leaning against it and sliding down to the floor. He sobbed into his knees and I felt as if I couldn't cry anymore. I felt so numb- so shocked. Out of all the infinite adjectives, words could not explain how I felt right now.

"H-he was so excited about Christmas. I d-didn't even get to hand him his present!" Chris cried, tugging on his hair as tears streamed freely down his cheeks. "He doesn't get to wake up on Christmas morning like we do, or get that call from his family, or sing along to stupid holiday songs with his buddies while drunk on mint-flavored alcohol. He doesn't get to live like we do, Dan."

I nodded, chewing on my bottom lip sadly.

"He was crazy about you," Chris whispered, looking up at me. I locked eyes with him. "Now PJ had plenty of crushes, but I'd never seen him adore someone so much until you came along. It hurt him too- leaving you."

"I know," I breathed. Chris leaned against the wall, looking at nothing in particular, wiping his bloodshot eyes. "I was crazy about him too."

---

I woke up to knocking at my locked bedroom door.

"Mmph, what?" I mumbled tiredly.

"It's Christmas, Dan. Come on!" Chris exclaimed. I yawned.

"I'll be out in a few," I replied. I heard him walk away and I blindly reached for my phone, my eyes widening when I didn't feel it. I sat up and looked at my nightstand, that stupid device nowhere to be seen.

I dropped it at the ball. I moaned in protest, mentally slapping myself.

I got up and threw on a Christmas sweater and jeans, putting a Santa hat on.

I opened my bedroom door and walked out, meeting Chris in the living room. We opened each other's Christmas presents and then ate breakfast.

Afterwards Chris went back into his room, shutting his door. I knew the morning act was forced- there's no way Chris Kendall could be okay after hearing that his best friend died.

I jumped when I heard three small knocks at the front door, getting up off the couch and bothering to look through the peep hole. I opened up the door, feeling like my breath had been sucked out of my lungs as soon as I saw who it was.

"P-Phil," I stuttered. He gulped, wearing a grey pullover and black jeans. His blue eyes were dull and black hair messy.

"Hi," the boy in front of me muttered. He reached in his pocket and handed me my phone. My lips parted and I extended out a trembling hand, taking the device from him.

"Thanks." He shrugged. He turned to walk away but I reached out, quickly grabbing hold of his sleeve. "Phil, wait." He turned to me, raising an eyebrow.

"What?" I bit my lip, trying to form a sentence to reply to him with. He frowned at me. "Dan, I have to go-"

My body was shaking with anxiety, keeping my grip on his arm. "No, please. Just let me explain."

"I heard you," he blurted, locking eyes with me. I let go of his sleeve, furrowing my eyebrows. "I heard everything you said to me that day. I wasn't asleep yet, but I was close to it. But then you came."

My eyes widened, my grip loosening somewhat. "B-but- the music? You were listening to a song! You were having a nightmare!"

"That was the last song on the playlist, which ended a couple seconds after you began talking. The nightmare act was really just myself trying to keep it together while you cried," he explained. My lips formed in a tight line. "Have you ever thought that maybe, just maybe, I cared about you too? That I didn't want to lose you either? That I need you in my life, even when you're a pain in my ass?"

"Phil, I'm-"

"Don't you dare apologize to me again. You left me when I needed you most, and you think that will help me become a happier person? You think that by not being in my life, I'll be alright? Dan, I wasn't as happy as I acted when I first met you. And when you claimed you weren't there for me- I wanted to grab your shoulders and scream at you. Because you were there, Dan. Maybe not emotionally, but by physically talking to me and agreeing to hang out with me even if you didn't want to was enough. Even with your feelings off, mine for you grew. So why didn't you choose to realize that I fell in love with you before you fell for me?"

"What are you saying?" I questioned, ignoring my pounding heart at his last sentence.

"I love you, you asshole! That's what I'm saying! I have been crying for days, getting only a few hours of sleep each night, hell I've lost my appetite too! Dan, this isn't just about you! You didn't even ask for my opinion in this! Think about someone else for once!"

"I was just afraid of hurting you," I mumbled, my eyes watering as I fidgeted with my hands.

Phil's gaze with me broke, instead looking down at my fidgeting hands. "You already hurt me."

I was about to reply when a male's voice downstairs cut me off.

"Phil? Where'd you go?" A stranger called from two floors down.

"Who's that?" I asked, eyes flickering back to Phil's face.

He didn't answer. "I'll be down in a minute, Damon!"

"Okay! Hurry up, Philly! I'm bored!" Damon chuckled, and then the door shut. Phil locked eyes with me again, his state more anxious.

"Phil. Who was that?" I repeated, my tone stricter. Phil glared.

"Somebody who actually cares about my feelings. Merry fucking Christmas." He snapped. I opened my mouth to respond, to apologize, to beg for him to stay, keeping my arm outstretched to pull at his shirt again, but he turned on one heel, rushing away from me.

I put my arm back down to my side, a single tear slipping from my eye. I watched him leave until his figure disappeared and his door slammed shut.

"But I do care," I whispered.