Loving, Senior, Howell. (Dan Howell X Reader) //Book Two of JSH\\

Epilogue

Some people say that you pass by your soulmate at least once before you meet them again.
Last time I checked, my soulmate and I met in middle school.
Last time I checked, my soulmate and I had to separate at the end of high school.

I was scared. I was terrified. The anxiety was rushing through me as I questionably wondered when we were going to see each other again by fate. Because if it's fate, then it's fate. Not because I forcefully messaged him and asked if we can see each other again.

Last time I checked, there was a separation between us that reminded me how much I missed him. The things he did for me. The things he would do for me.
At that moment, it'd had been two years since I said my good mornings and gave him kisses to show my love.

Here's to another two years.

My Uni friends and I were going to Anaheim, USA in California for a celebration. One of them were getting married.

I struggled to message him that I was going to be in America for a few days, maybe a week. Do I want to see him? Those dimples that deepened when he kissed me. The hair that felt so soft. The arms that held me when I needed it most. Will I look at him and say nothing? Or will I burst into his arms as I catch him up on kisses he'd missed for the past couple of years?

I ended up messaging Phil, who attended York University. He said he hopes I see him and, yes, I should e-mail him.

God, that e-mail. What a dork.

The plane ride reminded me of when he left and how terrible our goodbye was. I left the building right away. I didn't want to know if he'd turn back and change his mind. I didn't want to find out whether he wanted to risk getting beat to death just to see me again.

I want to hope that Phil had messaged Dan throughout the years he was gone. I want to hope that Phil told him I was going to America. I want to hope that I bump into him and tell him, "yes, I will drop University just so I can spend the rest of my life with you."

I promised I'd get married. I promised I'd have kids. I promised I'd be happy. But I never promised who it was going to be with.
I promised I'll find someone new. But why can't that someone be you?

We toured through Disneyland. I wore my plain white-t. It was fun. I just wish it was with you. Every time we got off and exited a ride or building, I tried to see if you were there at all. But that's insane. Why would you be at Disneyland, and for what?

My friends have bought hats for us all. I got the generic Mickey Mouse one with the ears and tail sticking out. I saw a Winnie the Pooh one and I almost bought it because it reminded me of you and your small obsession.

I had exited the ride of Indiana Jones with my group of friends. New friends. And I looked at the waiting line and realized how long it's gotten. As I was examining the wait of hundreds of people, I swear - swear - that I saw him.
I swear I saw him in line. I swear I saw him with PJ and Chris. I tried to do a double-take, even stop to look, but my friend had called me and the line was moving too much for me to check again. And I just left. Maybe it was my imagination getting the best of me.

—•—

I swear I saw her walk by in that familiar t-shirt. I wanted to stop and stare at her beautiful facial structure and how well she's taken care of herself. I wanted to stop, hold up the line. Break the rope dividing me and that possible stranger.
But no. I can't cause a scene. My anxiety rushes through me and I become light headed as I continue the attraction line with the thought that my dad might be here.

I would have never guessed he'd be at the store.

If only I hadn't seen him. I would have stayed and taken the pain to see her again.
But now I'm scared.

"Dan." My head swung around at the sound of my friend, PJ's, voice. There was a large gap between me and the two boys. He laughed and waved a hand over, "come on, your holding up the line."

I hesitated to walk forward, but did anyways.

Maybe it wasn't her.

Maybe my imagination just got the best of me.

—•—

I write the email addressed to danisnotonfire@gmail.com.

My friends' laptop that I had borrowed while she slept in the hotel bed was clean and unfamiliar.

"Hi," I typed. "Skype me. Please. This is my friends' email so don't respond back. Mine is the same as it's always been."

And I sent it.

A minute has passed and the screen was beginning to sleep. I clicked a key and it lit up again. Another minute and I was becoming impatient. Another minute and I realized I haven't given him any information to skype me with.

I sent another email with the correct information and said, "or call me. My phone number has been the same."

A minute. Two. Three. Four, and my eyes were droopy.

—•—

I'd call her if I could.
My laptop was at my house.
And my phone had died throughout the day. I'd borrow PJ or Chris' phone, but, she would have the wrong number.

Fuck it.

I tried calling and it went straight to voicemail. I called exactly twelve times. I messaged her then. I never got a sent notification.
Her phone must be dead.

—•–

I guess this is fate, I thought as I fell asleep at the desk provided by the Disneyland hotel.

—•—

I guess it's meant to be.

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A/N:
REMEMBER TO TRIP YOUR WAITRESS

I hope you liked it.

It has ended.

Keep this story in your library for more info on the up coming Phil Lester X Reader.
Make sure to check out my Dan and Phil X Reader Imagines/Oneshots book for more content.

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