A Hundred Days | Dan Howell x Reader

Chapter 26.

Seventy-two hours later, the taxis had left Heathrow Airport and dropped everyone off with luggage at their separate places. Finally, after what seemed an age, you, Eileen, Dan, and Phil stood with slumped shoulders outside your apartment block.

Eileen sighed. You stood on her left, Phil on her right, and Dan on his right. You were keeping as much distance as possible from the latter for fear of the heat that coursed through you whenever he touched you. Eileen had noticed. Phil was mostly asleep.

"Home sweet home", the blue-eyed boy mumbled and Eileen rang the bell.

A cheery voice chirped through the intercom. "Ah, loves, you're back! I've got tea and biscuits if you're not too tired", Mrs. Turner was saying.

Dan leaned forward as to be in reach of the intercom's mic.

"Never too tired for tea and biscuits, Mrs. Turner", he said and smiled.

"Daniel, dear! Good to hear your voice again", the elderly woman piped. "Now come on up, the lot of you. The biscuits are fresh-baked, even though it isn't Wednesday, and the tea is already brewing".

There was a click as the door opened and the four of your chorused a series of 'thank you's.

Eileen and Phil began to lug their bags up the stairs and you started to follow, nearly dropping your suitcase twice, but Dan hung back and tugged your arm.

"What?"

"You're clearly too tired to carry that", he nodded to your bag. "Let me take it".

You gave him a look. "I'm great on my own, thanks very much. Don't need you to carry a heavy bag for me". You began to pull the suitcase up the steps again muttering, "What a cliché", before you actually did drop the case. On Dan's foot.

He winced.

You exhaled heavily. "Touché".

He took the handle from where your fingers were clasped around it, his own brushing yours; you forced your hands into fists, nails meeting flesh and digging in.

Dan began to pull both his baggage and yours up the stairs.

"You're just as tired as I am", you jutted out your chin, a last-second attempt at deterring him from doing anything for you.

He glanced back at you. Blinked. His nonchalance drove your nails deeper into your skin. His line of sight trailed to your fisted hands.

"Don't do that", he said quietly.

"Do what?" you shook your head at him.

"Don't dig your nails into your palms. It'll hurt".

"I know it hurts", you gritted your teeth. "It's a way of focusing anger away from people".

He sat the bags down as the two of you reached the top of the stairs.

"What I don't understand, Y/N, is why you're angry at me, after everything".

"Who says I'm angry at you? I'm tired, that's all", you countered, feigning calm.

Dan stared at you again, his gaze as unwavering as ever.

"Okay", he said simply.

"What?" you frowned.

"Okay", he nodded, handing you your suitcase. Your veins thrummed with static energy as his fingertips brushed your wrist.

You turned to your door and he to his.

"How long are you going to pretend?"

"Pretend what?" you spat.

"That nothing happened in Italy, in Austria", he let his raised hands fall against his sides.

Your breathing was ragged, but you said little.

"That nothing happened between us?" he shook his head sadly. "How long are you going to—"

"Forever".

"Why?" he asked.

"Because it shouldn't have happened".

He raised his eyebrows. "I shouldn't have kissed you? You shouldn't have kissed me? You shouldn't have promised something that was a lie? Or should I not have fallen in love with you?"

He said it so blatantly, with such fury simmering beneath his level tone that you almost believed him. But he couldn't. It wasn't possible. And it would never be, even if it was the truth he was telling from his side. Because love is just a chemical reaction in your brain.

You suddenly thought of your parents. With age, they'd fallen out of love. Now they were just friends. Eileen's parents hated each other, though they used to love. Eileen's ex broke up with her with reasons being that she, Eileen, wasn't good enough. Eileen's older sister's husband died, leaving Isabel up to her neck in depression and anxiety and trust issues. Dan once had a girlfriend who became jaded and eventually cheated on him. Phil will at times feel unloved because of the way people fawn over Dan and forget that his best friend exists. Dodie has fears of people not accepting her, her thoughts, her feelings, because others have hurt her before, Evan hid personal information away from even his friends, friends that he should trust and love for their support. Louise and her past boyfriend, Darcy's father, didn't work out. And then you and Michael— hell.

Love hurts, love destroys, love is only a chemical process, love is mostly unrequited, love makes one unpredictable, love has standards. Love is distracting. Love is dangerous.

"I don't want you to be in love with me". The statement dried out your throat until it was like you'd been hurtled back a few weeks past, drowning in the Thames again. The monotone of your voice surprised you; how could you sound so without-feeling whilst your heart seared your chest? And why couldn't you decide if you were lying or telling the truth?

Dan looked at you. His throat bobbed. "All right. I'll wait for you", he repeated the words he spoke you in Austria.

"No".

"No?"

"I don't want you to wait for me".

Lie, lie, lie again, pounded along to the sped-up rhythm of your heartbeat.

"Ok-ay", Dan's voice cracked.

"Tell Mrs. Turner thanks, but another time". The curly-haired boy didn't reply. You pushed open your door.

"Y/N/N", you could almost hear him swallowing. You faced him. "I—" But he had already bottled away whatever it was he had been going to say, pushed down whatever emotions that had been surfacing.

He met your eyes with tears in them. and and his voice grim. "No, never mind".

"No, don't bother trying", you spat and left him standing in a state of vunerability that was unfamiliar to you on his face and in his eyes, his lips trembling with words unspoken.

You shut your door once you were inside.

"Dan?" you heard Phil say.

"Don't touch me".