Internet Friends | Dan Howell x Reader

Ignored

Hey.

I've been watching James charles waaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyy to much and now I'm using the word snatched in my regular conversation. SNATCHED.

Enjoy~

Dan's POV

I was walking along the street, watching the people pass by quickly in the bustle of the city. I had no where to go and I just couldn't stay inside anymore. I found myself somehow in front of (y/n)'s dance studio. All that aimless walking must've brought me here. I glanced around for a few moments before heading inside. I made my way to the first room where a baby ballet was taking place. I moved onto the next empty one. Was she even still here? I headed to one with a single light on, door shut and soft music playing. I glanced in to see one girl standing directly in the middle of the floor. 

(y/n).

She was stood, listening to the music, but she wasn't moving. She must be choreographing or something. I knew I shouldn't disturb. I leaned in, listening. It was the new Justin Timberlake song Say Something. It seemed like a hard dance to choreograph and I'm not even a dancer. The music shifted to the chorus and she started to move, perfectly fit with the music. I watched her flow across the room, sharp and smooth movements meshed together. She was such a beautiful dancer.

I glanced around at the corridor, quiet except for the echoing music from each room. It was artificially lit with tiled floors that reflected the light. There were rooms scattered about with marley floor for the dancers. Trophies, ribbons, and plaques from the competitive dancers littered the cases around a bulletin board with pictures and fliers. I could hear teachers call out up to 8 and repeat and tap shoes scuff across the floor. I glanced back at (y/n) slowing her movements and hesitating to shut off the music.

I didn't know if I should let her know I'm here or just head out. Either way I was getting creepy vibes and wanted to leave. What was it about this building? I glanced around until I realized that many months ago we were here after our first big fight. She greeted me coldly and shortly, eventually ending up in her requesting to not talk about it. Before the coma.

Sometimes I think if we hadn't fought, if I hadn't been so jealous, then we'd still be together. That she'd run out that door for a hug and kiss with a smile. I missed that. My stomach ached, and I cringed at the feeling deep in my gut. I glanced back over at her, to see her gazing in the mirror at me. We met eyes and she instantly knew what I was thinking about. She was good at that. Understanding exactly what I was thinking. That's why we worked so well together. I felt a pang of guilt as she hurried to turn off her music. I set my head back against the wall, cursing that I let her see me.

I should've left when I could've.

The door opened and she stood looking up at me, slightly scared, but curious as to why I was here. She looked exactly as she had been last time. Timid expression, bag tucked under her arm, blending in with the surroundings of the hall.

"Hey." she tested.

"Hi. I was just out and I stopped by because I knew you'd be here." I said, explaining myself without request. She nodded. It killed me to talk to her. To see her. To be around her.

When I couldn't love her.

"Do you want to come back to mine or..." she said, breaking the silence.

"(y/n) do you remember before we started fighting?" I ventured. I knew we hadn't ever talked about what was thrown when we were at each other's throats because of the coma and my...mistake.

"I do." she answered, clearing her throat.

"What happened?" I asked, stepping closer to her. I watched her shift so her back was pressed against the wall.