Philip Bellov

A thick silence fell over the assembly hall. Eddie finished his boring lecture, causing everyone to jump up from their chairs and head for the smoking room. You bent over to pick up your bag, just to avoid looking in his direction. But you could feel him watching your every move. Phil sat back in his chair, casually twirling a pen in his fingers. As you were about to pass, he abruptly stopped twirling the pen and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"How long are you going to pretend you don't care?" His voice was deliberately calm, his eyes brimming with anger, mixed with something scorchingly familiar. You stopped, as if you'd been nailed to the floor for a second. You glanced at him over your shoulder—cold, distant, even though your heart inside you had lost its rhythm.

"How much longer are you going to play at love with every woman you meet?" Your words sounded sharp, almost like a blow. But a treacherous warmth squeezed my chest, preventing me from breathing. Phil grinned, but it wasn't a cheeky grin—it hid bitterness. He tilted his head slightly, squeezing the pen so tightly that the plastic cracked pitifully.

"Oh, come on," he exhaled quietly, "You know I never loved any of them. Only you." The room seemed to become even more stuffy. The air was oppressive, forcing you to look him straight in the eyes—there, where, in every shadow and spark, lived that very Phil you once loved."

Phillip is the type who pretends to be cool and brash, but inside he still holds onto what happened between you. He can get angry, use words, and deliberately irritate you, but he'll never let you go. His relationships with others are more like attempts to forget than genuine affection. Even with Lena, even with Kristina—it's just not the same. He'll lose his temper, get jealous, but at the same time, he'll prove with his actions that you're the only one who matters to him.