• • • Dan's POV • • •I watched her/him/them. Watched her/him/them dance with that piece of filth that treated her/him/them as if she/he/they was/were worth no more than the dirt beneath his shoe.
She/He/They couldn't see it, but I knew it only too well.
That Michael— I never thought I'd come to hate the middle name given to my best friend— kissed her/him/them and she/he/they saw nothing, not that Michael had so clearly kissed a thousand people before her/him/them, kissed his way to the top. People wondered how he got the brilliant job at such a young age? The answer to all their questions would be, well, he was entangled with the right people at the right times. And now he was involved with Y/N, fraternising and being over-friendly with her/him/them in order to make her/him/them like him to show his respect for all members of staff, eager to impress the Chief Editor, who was getting too old for his position, that he, Michael, was the one for the job. And he'd struck at the right moment— the moment when ever-so-lovely, kind, witty, creative, hard-working, and talented, but so damned vunerable Y/N had stepped off the plane/train to London.
And she/he/they danced with that manipulative swine while I drank away my sorrows in the corner of the bar. It killed me to look at the two of them, but I couldn't look away from Y/N.
Y/N. She/He/They was/were beautiful in her/his/their specific way; I could swear I'd memorised the bow of her/his/their lips, the way her/his/their shoulder felt pressed against mine, like we had our own little world and nothing could touch us, hurt me, the brilliant explosion of colour of her/his/their eyes avoiding my gaze anxiously, then meeting it— and I never wanted to look away. It wouldn't matter to me if the only thing I ever saw from now until my end was/were her/his/their eyes. I didn't care. I wanted to love her/him/them, but I couldn't let myself. Too much would be at stake— our friendship, our relationship when the Internet found out... And yet, if only she/he/they would feel the way about me that I felt about her/him/them, maybe we could work it out. Maybe we could find a way.
But I didn't let myself hope. Because she/he/they wanted him, Michael. Not me. Not awkward, worthless, broken me. She/He/They had no idea what ran through me every second of the day, how my heart thrummed ever time I saw her/him/them and I wished I could reach out and touch her/him/them, hold her/him/them close to me, and never let go. And possibly, one day, if I had let myself feel such things, tell her/him/them that I loved her/him/them.
I raised my glass to my lips, shuddering as the liquid went down for the hundredth time that night. Things were becoming blurrier by the minute and singers of the music that rang out from the speakers were becoming more and more out of tune. I didn't dare stand for fear of the ground swaying.
So my dulled senses were to blame when a woman sat on the stool beside me and I did not register her identity before she turned to me and spoke.
"It kills, doesn't it?" Eileen said, taking a shot. She continued without my input, watching someone a little beyond Y/N and Michael. Whom she was watching, exactly, I couldn't see, but Phil was there amongst the crowd, somewhere. "It kills, to see someone you love with someone that's not you", she drank again and I nodded slowly in agreement. "Especially when they have no idea how you feel about them. It physically hurts, right here", she tapped over where her heart was. "Explain that, you biology fuckers".
"Life is shit and then you die", I took another drink.
"Well said, my friend", Eileen nodded, bumped my shoulder, "well said".
Neither of us spoke. Then I said, "So what do we do now?"
"I suppose my case is easier than yours", Eileen mused aloud, swirling her drink. "Otherwise I would tell you to go get 'em, but you have someone between you and her/him/them. I don't have anyone but myself standing between... us", Eileen spoke carefully, as if she were hiding something. I shook the thought away.
"So go tell them what you think of them", I encouraged her. Just because I couldn't overcome shit and be happy didn't mean that someone like Eileen should suffer.
"And leave you sitting here alone? With a flask in your hand?"
I smirked despite my position. "Maybe it's for the best".
Eileen looked at me. "But not the alcohol. You've had far too much already".
"Helps me forget".
Eileen frowned thoughtfully. "Maybe it's better not to dull everything into nothing, maybe it's better not to forget, so that you remember what you're fighting for and why it is you're fighting for it".
I swallowed, not meeting her eyes as I stared after her best friend.
"Oh", she laughed, "stop looking so fucking wistful, Daniel. You're making me miserable just watching you".
"Then don't look at me", I quipped. "Go find whom ever it is you've been staring at these long hours".
Eileen sighed, then stood to leave.
But she stopped as I drained my glass. "She/He/They doesn't/don't love him, you know". I almost choked on the liquid sailing down my throat, composing myself only just in time.
"Why are you telling me this?" I asked Eileen, her statement only salting the wound.
"Because she/he/they doesn't/don't know", Eileen replied simply.
I frowned. "What do you mean", I slurred, "she/he/they doesn't/don't know?"
Eileen sighed softly, looking at Y/N beyond the mass of unimportants.
"I can see it. She/He/They has/have never been in love before, and the way she/he/they look/s at Michael is nothing, Dan, nothing, compared to the way she/he/they look/s at you".
Eileen shook her head with a sad smile. "And she/he/they want/s to be loved, dearly, though she'd/he'd/they'd never admit it. Michael will never love her/him/them, and certainly not the way you already do".I chewed the inside of my cheek, the saddest song always getting stuck in my head at the wrong time.
You may say, I'm a dreamer,
but I'm not the only one.I willed the tears begone!, telling myself that it was my intoxicated mind that had me remembering the way Y/N had embraced me and promised me that everything would eventually be all right.
Oh, but how little she/he/they knew that she/he/they was/were the one that made me the saddest of them all.
But also the happiest."Good luck", I smiled genuinely to Eileen and she nodded, leaving me be and going off to find her beloved.
I rose, blinking hard to steady vision and my walk.
I saw the two— Eileen and whom she'd spoken of— dancing then. How their faces glowed and gazes melted together as one. And it made me smile as I forgot my own troubles, lost in their happiness.
Until of course Y/N ran crying past me.
• • • • • •
A/N:
So.
My family and I are driving across Europe tomorrow; through Germany and into Switzerland, where we'll be staying the night in the lovely city of Lucerne. Then, we'll make our way down and into Italy. I'm very excited!
But of course, this means I'll have no WiFi for the next nine or ten days and while I'll be writing, you won't be able to see it for a while.
Hope you're enjoying the chapter and your holidays if you have them,
much luv,
I'll interact with you again soon,~Tina x

YOU ARE READING
A Hundred Days | Dan Howell x Reader
Fanfiction"A hundred days..." "And you can't take it back". ♤ When Y/N decides it's time for a change of scenery, she/he/they head/s to the luminescent London to chase her/his/their dreams. However, without a plan, how can anything go to one? And while Y/N...