A Hundred Days | Dan Howell x Reader

Chapter 20.

It had been an early start to get on the road, but most of you were holding up pretty well.

Eileen had, by your order, been sent to the doctor to have her head examined, but the injury was merely a bruise and slight swelling on the part of her scalp that had been knocked against the stone of the bridge as the two of you had jumped. She'd now recovered from the accident and Dan had recovered from his shock, for the most part. 

As for you, a certain element of trauma remained, nagging at the corners of your mind every now and then— the thought of that lorry coming straight toward you, the silencing thought of I am going to die. I am going into darkness and I will never see light again. Only pain. And then dark. And nothing. I will be nothing.

But you kept quietly to yourself. No need to trigger any of Eileen's memories nor any of Dan's frantic worry.

You had each recounted your stories— you and Eileen of the lorry and the jump, Dan and Phil of how the former had called the latter, panicking about the accident that had instantly become breaking news  and the fact that Dan had seen you taking the train to London Bridge station. Louise, Liam, Dodie, and Evan had hurried over shortly after as they too had seem the news and were worried. When Dodie had seen Eileen with her pink, still-wet hair,  beads of water glistening on her earrings as she sat bundled in blankets on her bed, the brunette had begun to cry, hugging Eileen and kissing her cheeks. They'd fallen asleep beside each other and you'd shut the door, not wanting to disturb them.

All of you, minus Dodie and Eileen, had then sat drinking tea and eating the biscuits Mrs. Turner had whipped up as soon as she'd heard about the accident and your version of what had happened. Mrs. Turner had stayed the afternoon at your flat, beating your friends at every card game they knew until she decided that you were all starving and proceeded to cook pasta with pesto on your stove. Mrs. Turner had lived in Italy for most of her life, so she was really a good cook.
You and Dan had come back onto speaking terms without discussion, and you'd given him and Phil each a soaked, cat-whisker beanie, which—despite the drenched material— they'd both put on immediately and taken selfies to post on Twitter and Tumblr and Instagram. Everything had gone rather back to normal, and now, you were on the road to Italy.

Silently, you switched on your camera.
Starting a video, you tapped a finger to your lips, making your eyes wide at the lens.

You mouthed counting to three, then—
"Good morning, Daniel darling, good morning Phil, my angel!" you chirped, rousing the two from their fitful sleep of leaning against each other—

so much Phan... You had taken pictures.

"Morning", sleepy Phil rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses, voice ragged with tiredness.

"I am seriously plotting to kill you right now", Dan grumbled, unsuccessfully trying to fix his hair.

But you had thought you'd save them the rude awakening they'd likely receive from Louise when the car pulled into the next petrol station.

You frowned at Dan. "Only, you'd never be able to go through with the deed. You love me too much", your lips splayed a smile.

He narrowed his eyes at you, shaking his head, "Shut up".

You shoved his shoulder and he elbowed you in the ribs as fair game.

Phil yelped as the Y/N-Dan violence continued. "Stop, stop it", he shrank into a ball.

"For fuck's sake, Phil", Dan squirmed as he battled your hands, "move your toosh!" and poor Philip was stuck in the middle.

"Oi!" Dodie called from the driver's seat upon hearing Dan's curse. "No swearing, no fighting, no clawing, no biting".