dan howell is on autopilot. his hands make sandwich after sandwich and his ears listen to people's orders, but his smiles are empty, his conversation forced.
to everyone else, dan is a quiet, fresh-out-of-high-school kid making extra money by working at a sandwich shop near the college.
dan's always been good at acting.
he's on six different types of medication at the moment, and as always, they're making him feel slightly sick and unable to care about anything. hell, he can barely see straight.
he finishes wrapping a sandwich and hands it over the counter, a strained smile tugging at his lips as he nods curtly at the woman.
"thank you for your patronage." his voice is monotone.
he sweeps bread crumbs off the counter and turns to the next person, and the cycle begins again.
☵
there's nobody else on the roof of dan's apartment building tonight, probably because there's a strong wind and it's starting to rain. dan hasn't changed out of his work clothes and wears a newly rain-splattered plain black polo and grey jeans.
dan comes up here almost every night. he likes to watch the clouds move through the sky, or on clear nights, look at the stars.
but at the same time, it reminds him of the life he could have had.
his lip quivers and he knows he's about to cry, and he doesn't even bother trying to hide the way his shoulders shake or the small noises that issue from his mouth as his tears fall.
dan's nail beds are bitten raw and his skin is marked in too many places and he hasn't taken a shower in days. his eyes are bloodshot and his knuckles are bruised and his lips are chapped.
rainwater mixes with the tears on dan's cheeks and he breathes in the cold. he's shivering in his sopping polo and jeans but he doesn't want to go back inside, to be faced with the reality that is his life. he wants to stay outside and pick at the fifth brick from the left and count down from five and dream of a better future, and these thoughts are forbidden in any other situation.
he sinks down against the red brick rooftop, a pathetic sigh escaping his lips. he picks at his nails and chews on his lip and rubs his eyes and takes a deep breath in.
he stopped telling himself that it was going to be okay a long time ago, because the truth was, it wasn't. nothing was ever going to be fixed.
they say some lives are better than others, and some people shine brighter than stars.
dan howell feels like a black hole.
