One Night Stand- (Dan Howell x Reader)

12

I opened the front door before guiding myself into the living room and falling to the couch. After being awake for twenty-six hours I felt like my legs were going to snap under me every time I took a step. My eyes were incredibly heavy, like someone stacked a pile of cars right on top of them. My hair was tangled and dirty. I needed a shower desperately after falling in the mud on my way out of the graveyard. I'm so glad my mom got to see that one. I was tempted to pour a bottle of painkillers into a bowl and eat it like cereal.

Now if it seems I'm being overdramatic, I'm really not. My emotional and physical state feels like it just got tied to the back of a car's bumper and dragged for six blocks.

And the drinking. All I could think about is drinking. I usually can be really responsible about drinking. I have a best friend that would shoot me if I started becoming a drunk, a boyfriend type person who wouldn't be quite pleased with me, and the denial of the fact that I'm an alcoholic to keep me going. Except, when I'm sad. When I'm sad I can't think straight. I don't drink for shits and giggles, I drink to forget about what's going on in life. I bet I could get my shit together without drinking but it's always been such a great way to avoid my problems, so why would I?

Thank god, I'm too tired to look for liquor.

At this point, drinking felt like the only option. When physical and emotional pain team up and beat the hell out of me, I always have had too much to drink. And with the pain in my cheek from my father's knuckles coursing through my veins like a direct line to my heart, all I could think about was the taste of whiskey.

Or something poetic like that.

I closed my eyes tight before opening them with all the effort I had left. Amari was standing in the hall next to the couch.

"What the hell happened to your face?" She rushed over and sat on the couch next to me. She lifted my face up, as I pushed myself off the couch so I was only sitting. Amari continued holding my face in her hand as she examined the bruise that stretched over my cheek, from my lip to the bottom of my eye. Plus the cut that sat upon the bruise which made it hurt one hundred times worse. The doctor said that the cut didn't need any stitches and as long as I kept it clean the scar should be hardly visible. I hope he's right. A constant reminder of that night at the hospital wouldn't only be embarrassing and pathetic, but would probably scar emotionally too.

"Tom," I muttered. Eye contact was hard when the tears gathered up in the corners of her eyes and I could barely keep it together as she fell apart. She always wore her emotions on the outside. That's why it was so hard for us to become friends as we were growing up, because when she was crying about her ex-boyfriend, I was telling everyone my bruises were from falling down the stairs.
"Hey, hey, it's okay. I'm okay." I sat up completely while reassuring her. She pulled me in for a hug and nuzzled her forehead into my shoulder.

"Stupid!" She shouted before pushing me back. "How could you just disappear like that? I was worried sick! Dan was worried sick!"

"I know, I know, I messed up. I should've told you, I shouldn't have even gone if I'm being honest." The pile of cars on my eyes started feeling heavier.

"Why did you then?" Amari said as she wiped her eyes.

"H-he said that he got in an accident. He said it was pretty bad and it was with his wife and step-daughter."

"He got remarried?"

"I guess," I mumbled, the exhaustion taking over me once again. Amari sighed before taking the blanket off the back of the couch and pulling it over me.