Dan Avidan x Reader FanFiction; Vivid

Prologue

Prologue:

"You can drive, all night, looking for the answers in the pouring rain"

I clutch his hand in mine, he looks away and closes his eyes but I can tell he's still here from the warmth of his hand and the coursing beat of his heart. He squeezes my hand tighter and I lay still with one hand in his and another sprawled across the bed as I stare vacantly at the ceiling just enjoying this moment with him, god knows I thought these moments would never end.

The cracked window allows a slither of sunlight to expose the clothes on the floor and to spread warmth to the tips of our toes and the sheets beneath us, I'm sure of the smudged mascara across the curves of my cheeks and brimming over the bow of my lips. I'm sure of the days to come and the clothes that won't scatter here yet tuck themselves away in my suitcase acting like they're not out of place. I'm sure the laughs to escape my cracked lips will never be as raucous or as beautiful as the ones shared with him, and I'm sure the corners of my smile will never stretch to the highs he made me feel.

My body sunk deeper in to the mattress longing to stay, and though all my petty troubles had fled and soon the only weight on my shoulders will be the backpack that contains these last few years, I felt heavy. I felt drained and devoid, calm and content, yet heavier than before, heavier than I doubt I'll feel again as the mattress wraps it's white nails around my arms and the sheets smother me calling out to me not to go. I let myself drown in these perfume soaked sheets and choke on the memories that would never leave this room, locked away and tucked beneath the covers we lay.

He wanted to call it stupid, standing there in the pouring rain with his fists clenched and tears brimming at the edges of his eyes but he knew whatever compelled him to feel so much and so often was far from stupidity. He knew then that he couldn't find the answers and at 4pm on a Wednesday, he still can't.

The summer breeze - late - summer breeze swept past the curtains and blew the sheets of paper across the room only to lay them a few feet away. It was on the brink of Autumn and I knew everything had a season, and as my hair faded from sunshine in mid-July and my lips didn't resemble the same hue's as late sunsets, I knew, it was different.

The breeze was settling now and his heart was slowing and my lip was quivering but I compelled it to stop as the room became more silent and the air was thicker and warmer and had that same sinking feeling as my stomach did. I heard him swallow after a few heavy breaths, whatever words he choked on were soon to be said and I almost couldn't bare to hear them; for whatever melody he stitched together to accompany this tune must be as timbre.

He speaks:

"I wonder if I can ever love anything as much as you, and if I can bare to lose it, too."

I'm not sure of this.