Head Down (phanfiction)

6 * Copacabana is a definite no.

I slammed my fingers on the ivory with as much force as I could.

A loud, angry song of defiance erupted from the instrument as I played.

The music seemed to fill the room until it was practically buzzing with the emotion of the song.

I will not fall in love with Dan, I repeated over and over until the words sounded strange and meaningless.

I refused to believe I was stuck like this.

I refused to believe there was no way to save myself from love's crushing grasp.

I did not want to deal with all of these stupid human feelings; the stomach full of butterflies, the sweaty palms, and my stupid eyes that leapt for the window anytime I was home to see if just maybe Dan would be looking back at him.

He never was.

I wish I didn't care.

But I did.

I really -- unfortunately -- did.

*

Dan wasn't at school that day.

I didn't like how quickly I took notice of that. And I especially didn't like that distinct dropping feeling of disappointment that riddled my insides.

Nevertheless, the day went on as any normal one would; maths, English, psych, French, band, followed by a particularly lonely study hall.

The next morning, however, I woke up to an annoyingly pleasant text from Dan.

From: Dan
up for a Mario Kart rematch?

I despised the butterflies in my stomach that had suddenly taken flight again.

To: Dan
Sure -- come over after school?

In the moment, I didn't even think to stop and question why Dan suddenly felt comfortable enough with me to invite himself over.

But then again, it's not like I really minded.

I was embarrassingly excited to see Dan after school. It's all I could think about all day.

Instead of taking notes in maths class; He wants to come over! He wants to spend time with me!

Instead of listening to old Ms. Jacobs bore us to death with her lectures in English; Should I change before he comes over? Should I shower? Will I have time to do my hair?

Instead of paying attention to one of the only classes I actually find sufficiently stimulating -- psychology -- my mind was busy considering the very likely possibility that Dan was not interested in me at all and just wanted to mooch off of my Mario Kart.

I didn't particularly like that last thought, but, knowing Dan, it was highly plausible that that was the truth, so I couldn't let it go.

But Dan actually looked happy to be there when he showed up at my door later that day.

After saying our hellos, we raised the kitchen for our snacks (two bags of popcorn and a liter of Pepsi) and retreated to my room upstairs.

"So, you want to be Mario again?" I broke the ice once we'd settled down.

"I was actually wondering," he said, picking up his controller and fiddling with it. He seemed nervous. "Could I make a Mii and play as that?"

A little itch in the back of my brain made me think that that was not exactly where Dan planned for that sentence to go when he was still harboring it in his mind.

I let it slide.

I also let Dan make his Mii -- a cute little thing with brown hair, brown eyes, and a button nose that looked as much like him as any Mii could -- and agreed to play as mine, too.