:DAN | danxreader

Chapter Hundred and Twenty-Three

"Dan?", I carefully ask since the screen that would normally show his face is pitch black.

Moments later it gets really bright for a second before the camera adjusts to the light and shows his face.

"Sorry if I woke you up, my...", I begin but get interrupted by him: "Babe are you okay? Is everything okay? You didn't wake me up, I haven't slept I was so worried. What happened?"

I sigh: "I'm sorry. Basically I dropped my phone and broke the screen so I couldn't text you and after I was so busy and just got home and..."

"But are you okay? Were you at the airport?"

"When they found the suitcase? No."

A huge sigh of relieve follows: "Fuck. I worried. I miss you so much."

"I'm so sorry I didn't let you know earlier, are you mad?", I ask, my voice getting quiet.

"Of course not, silly. It just made me miss you so much more. You look incredible by the way."

Smiling, I answer: "Thank you and I miss you too. My stylist did an incredible job at turning my sleep deprived self into something acceptable."

Another hour of talking, showing him around the place and singing that turns into a canon because of the delay follows before he sends me off to get some rest since I have barely slept.

And also with that follows a week of stress filled with huge decisions about the line that I have to make with Richard and Fleur.

The more time I spend in New York, the more I fall in love with the city. Never would I've thought that in just a week I'd head over heels fall in love with a metropolis. A place that just a week ago, I couldn't even imagine myself staying at for longer than absolutely needed.

Every time I would mention my love for it to Dan, he'd always reply with: "Not as much as London though or..?" "Well you have to come back, if you want to or not." "I'm not letting you stay longer than needed.", and every time I would have the same answer. Even this faithful evening: "You can't compare New York with... London. Or England in general. I mean, the people are just as rude but it's New York. The whole city has a complety different vibe. It doesn't even feel like a city anymore. Every part of it is different, every part has its own rhythm. You could go from seeing posh to miserable in ten minutes, without traffic obviously. And Times Square. Have I told you about Times Square?"

He sighs: "Yes. Yes you have. Multiple times."

"Sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

"Because I'm rambling again. How was the shoot anyways?"

"Good good. Tiring but good."

"That's all you have to say? Not what you did or anything?"

"Me and Phil don't even play a huge role in the movie. All we did today was take pictures for the cover and Piccadilly."

"You'll be on PC? That's so cool!"

"Yea."

Now I sigh: "Wow you're taking great part in this conversation."

"Thanks."

"Why are you being so salty?"

"I'm not."

"You clearly are. Dan if something is wrong, just tell me."

"Nothing's wrong."

"So I can go to bed without having to worry about you?"

"Exactly."

"Alright then. Good night?"

"Night."

And with that, our conversation ends. If you can even call it that. I am the transmitter, he is the receiver. A broken receiver. One that doesn't even receive. One that kinda just is there without taking part in the transmission.

This is how most of the conversation go for the next week. Me having to call him because he forgot. Him listening to me ramble. Me having to ask him questions. Him giving one word answers and being tired.

Until half time. Because when our separation hits the two week mark, he does not answer my call.