Playing With Fire || d.h

56. All Good for Now

Dan's POV

I replay last night in my head on repeat, while (Y/n) lies sleeping next to me, her head against my shoulder with her arm sprawled across my bare chest, rising and falling with each of my breaths. I listen to the light puffs of air coming out her nose, her nostrils flaring with each one. Her naked body is almost strategically covered by my checkered duvet, just barely covering her most vulnerable areas.

It might have taken awhile to get here, but it was damn well worth the wait.

A sudden ping sounds from my computer across the room, signaling that I must've received an email. I very reluctantly pull myself out of bed, already having a good idea about who it must be from. Pulling on boxers and a pair of sweatpants, I cross the floor, and see I had been right.

The email had been from my and Phil's manager, and basically read that the two weeks we had before leaving for our tour were about to be the busiest few days of our lives. I turn to (y/n), snoring slightly as her body rises and falls to her breathing. This is an issue.

Deciding I need a bit of time to mull it over, I grab a shirt and pair of jeans from my wardrobe, and walk to the bathroom, turning the shower on. I do clean myself, but spend over half the time standing still, letting the water run over me as I stare into space, thinking about the crisis my life is becoming. After washing myself, drying my hair, and brushing my teeth, I get dressed, and walk back to my room. However, I'm caught off guard to see that (y/n)'s no longer in here. I walk over and grab my phone off my nightstand, checking all my notifications while making sure she hadn't texted me or anything. Nothing.

I quickly adjust my hair again in the mirror behind my door before walking through the hallway and to the kitchen. Before I even walk in, however, I stop in my tracks in the doorway, my jaw nearly dropping to the floor.

(Y/n) stands in the middle of the kitchen, about as much shock as I feel written on her face. Not only is the entire front of her covered in white powder, including her hair and ears, but also about eighty percent of the kitchen. I realize she's dressed in nothing but one of my T-shirts, but due to the mess, I can't decipher which one.

"What the fuck?" I let out before I can stop myself. She quickly turns to me, her eyeballs growing to the size of golf balls.

"I...I...I kinda got flour everywhere," She stutters, wringing her hands together with anxiety. I then notice the paper bag of flour sitting on the table, ripped halfway apart. I creep slowly toward her, still unable to take in the white powder blanketing nearly everything in the room.

"Please...Please don't freak out," she whispers, anxiety lacing her voice. She makes a motion to the other things sitting on the counter, including, cocoa powder, vanilla, eggs, that sort of thing. "I just...I wanted to make brownies, and I know that sounds kinda stupid now, but, they just sounded really good, and-" I cut off her never-ending rambling by grabbing her face in my hands and kissing her deeply. She hesitates for a second, caught off guard, before kissing me back just as passionately.

As her small hands push against my bare chest, my heart explodes with fireworks, but also sadness. Because this beautiful, bold, perfect thing I have, will be gone in only fourteen. Fourteen days, and then I won't see her for a month.

Sadness also because she thought I'd be mad over such a small thing. The actual fear that had been running through her tone echos in my mind, sending painful shivers through my spine.

Finally, after minutes of being connected, we pull away from each other. "What was that for?" She breaths, her chest rising and falling against my own.

"Why the hell were you making brownies at ten in the morning?" I ask, and am relieved as she chuckles against my lips, considering they're still basically touching.