A Hundred Days | Dan Howell x Reader

Chapter 32.

Dan

Three days remained. That was all.

I hadn't left the sofa crease for a total of nine days, except to grab the charger for my MacBook, to use the toilet, to get a glass of water, or to open the door for the take-away deliverer. It wasn't unusual for me to not leave the house for a week, or even for me to lapse into such deep, lengthy periods of silence as the one I was currently in, but lately, I had been doing better, had finished my meds back in March, meaning that Phil had been a lot happier for the past few months, knowing that I was semi-ok. But now, my behaviour was wearing on him, and I could tell from the bags beneath his eyes that he was getting as little sleep as I. His movements were robotic and accompanied with sighs, and he hadn't eaten gummy bears or cereal since Y/N had left and Eileen had ceased to speak with us. Still, that wasn't the worst part. He seemed more worse-for-the-wear than I did, as if he were carrying my burdens, Y/N's, Eileen's, and his own, all at once. Nothing he did bore any sort of emotion, aside from acceptance. He hadn't once tried to talk to me, either, for nine bloody days, and he barely made eye contact with me., avoiding me as much as was humanly possible, that is, whilst still sharing a flat. A part of him, even when he was cross with me, bound him to the flat, protecting me on a subconscious level. But Phil couldn't protect the both of us.

Outside, it was raining, the sun too mourning our losses with the absence of its light.

I checked the time. It was two in the afternoon, meaning that with her/his/their slow start to the dream job, Y/N was only just getting up, the time being nine am in the Big Apple.

Funny how New York City was called the Big Apple and London the Big Smoke. Funny how they were simultaneously so similar and so apart. Funny how often I wondered about a girl/boy/person halfway across the world. I wondered if she/he/they wondered about me too.

It wasn't until Phil slammed the front door that I noticed I had been staring into space.

"You haven't gotten up yet, I see", Phil said as he entered the lounge room, speaking for the first time in over a week.

I frowned. "No".

"When are you getting up". He spoke so monotonously that a question mark would have been out of place.

"What does it matter to you", I replied with the same tone.

His teeth were gritted. "It matters to me because you wanted her/him/them to stay and yet why is it you're sitting here and have been sat here now for nine fucking days?"

If I could've shrank any farther into the couch then, I would have, but I was already so smushed against its cushions that I was almost one with the sofa. Phil swearing so carelessly was a warning sign. A bright, flashing, beeping, fluorescent rainbow warning sign, approximately the combined size of Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens. Phil was angry. Table-flipping angry.

I chewed the inside of my cheek, looking down. "Because I'm an idiot".

"Hell, you are".

He strode over and briskly took my arm, pulling my from the sofa in one swift movement. Lucky for me, I had placed my computer on the side table, instead of in my lap.

"Now, you're having hot chocolate and I'm having a coffee, both of which you will make because I've been looking after you in utter silence for more than a week, and you're going to tell me what the crap you're going to do".

At least the swearing had been toned down. "About what?" I asked quietly.

"About Y/N. We may be soulmates, Dan—" I must have scrunched up my face and made that cringe expression, because Phil waved his hands at me— "but I'm not the person you'll eventually be marrying".