Cheater ; Phan ~ completed

2

(Dan)

Then, a knock at my door. Soft, timid, scared. "Dan? Babe?" Phil's broken voice calls out.

I almost cry, I almost talk. I want to. But I don't. I can't. I won't.

"You've got to come out of there eventually. I'm worried about you, Bear."

That god damn voice. That nickname. The concern, the worry. I can't stand it.

"Please, don't hate me.. I can't lose you. You're my best friend."

I don't hate you. I want to. I don't want to lose you either. I just hope, you're still my friend, and my damn boyfriend.

"If you'd just talk to me.. I can explain."

There it was, my breaking point.

"Explain what?! How you fucking cheated on me!?" I shout, looking up at the ceiling with tears blurring my vision.

This is the first time I've ever said anything back. I instantly regret it.

"I-It's not like that." He stutters, sniffling.

"Then what the hell is it?!" I ask, jumping up out of the bed and standing by the door.

"C-Could you just, come out. We can talk."

"We are talking, Phil." I snap angrily. "I don't really want to see you right now."

"I'm sorry, Dan. I really.. I really messed up."

"No fucking shit." I sigh, leaning my head against the door. "Why? Just, why?"

"It's not what you're thinking."

"Then what the hell is it?! Because it looks like you fucking cheated!"

"I.. did. But, its not like I-"

"Look, I don't want to deal with this right now. If I hear any more I'm gonna either break down in tears, or break your damn arm."

"Oh. Uhm.. Well... I'm here whenever you're ready, I guess.."

I walk back over to the bed, and cover my head with a pillow, crying silently.

I finally thought I had it right. I thought I.. I thought I found the one. I thought he was as in love with me as I was with him. Maybe, I was wrong. Maybe, I was too caught up in thinking he was some angel, to imagine the possibility that he could be just as bad, and maybe worse than me.

I want to shout at myself. I want to slap myself in the face, because how could I be so stupid? How could I have put him on such a high pedestal? I made him seem like such a fucking wonderful person?

How fucking dare I.

So I sit there, screams and cries muffled by my pillow. I hate him. I hate myself.

"Why the fuck did you do it!? WHY!?" I shout, and although my voice is muffled, I can tell he heard it.

But I don't care. I want him to know how bad this hurts. I want him to realize what he did to me. It feels like my heart's been ripped out of my chest, shattered on the floor and lazily put back together.

But I can't help it. I want to be numb, I want to get over it. But I don't. I can't.

Eight lousy years. Eight years.

Was it fake? Was it real? Did he ever really love me? Or was he just scared of letting us go?

(534)