Endless || Dan Howell x reader (sequel to Unbroken)

Fourteen~

I felt completely numb. I had no feeling in my hands, or any other part of my body for that matter. My eyes started to droop and I realized I hadn't slept in nearly a week. Ignoring the bloody mess on the carpet, I stood up, grabbing a towel from the back of the desk chair and wiping my hands. The towel tossed aside, I fell into the bed, staring longingly at the empty half as I drifted off to sleep.

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I hated the fact that I never got any sleep, but after waking up to an empty bed at four in the morning I started to see why I spent all those nights trying to keep myself awake in front of the television. I realized sleep deprivation isn't all that bad when the first sight you're greeted with when you're awoken from your heavy slumber are tangled sheets and the pillow she used to sleep on.

I could still smell her. The scent of the lavender shampoo she used was embedded into the pillow where she rested her head.
One of her old t-shirts was lying on the ground at the foot of the bed, the one she wore that was too big but somehow fit her just right.

I felt my sock feet dragging across the carpet, then onto the hardwood in the hall. The cold air outside of my duvet seeped into my clothes and pricked at my skin until I had goosebumps.

I pushed open the door next to mine, the creaking hinges being the only noise in the empty house. I peaked my head in the door, finding my daughters empty bedroom on the other side. Phil must have taken Hazel back to their place when I stomped upstairs the night before.

I looked around the room, the same purple and blue bedroom that I had been in a thousand times. The rainbow fairy lights dangling from the ceiling and loud music always made the room seem lively and energetic, but without anyone in it, it just seemed empty and abandoned. The curtains were drawn and there was a subtle staleness to the air. It reminded me of an eerie scene from a horror film.

I had been in this room so many times, but I never paid so much attention to it. To the little details I always so foolishly overlooked.

I took a step in, gingerly avoiding the purple blotch on the carpet from when Winnie spilled her grape juice and we couldn't get the stain out for the life of us. I noticed the pile of cups and dirty plates (y/n) and I had told the girls to bring to the sink countless times, still sitting on the shared desk in the corner of the room. The Power Rangers and Sonic the Hedgehog stickers scattered around on the walls, mixed with finger paintings the girls had done when "redecorating".

The purple side of the room was Winnie's, and the blue was Hazel's. Hazel had toy soldiers and monster trucks, while Winnie had Barbie dolls and makeup. Hazel loved playing in the dirt when Winnie preferred staying clean and reading a book. The two could not be more different, but one thing they sure had in common was their messiness. Their room was always a mess, and they never made their beds. Hazel's was a chaos of sheets and blankets, while Winnie's bed was . . . surprisingly made? The girls only ever made their beds when (y/n) or I told them to, and that was months ago . . .

I found myself sitting on the end of Winnie's bed, staring longingly at the pillow. This is where she was sleeping, where she dreamt of whatever her amazing little imagination could come up with overnight, all over two months ago. And now she was god knows where, sleeping somewhere without the comfort of her own bed, if she was even sleeping at all.

I couldn't handle being in that room anymore, alone with my depressing thoughts and all of Winnie's stuff. I quickly stood up and rushed out of the room, nearly tripping over the toys on the floor in the process. The door shutting noisily behind me, I let out a sigh and started down to the kitchen.

Before I could begin to talk myself out of it, I was on the floor in the lounge, a half-empty bottle of vodka in my hand and two others on the table in front of me. This was it. This was my rock bottom.

How I let myself sink this low, I could have never guessed. At this point I didn't second guess anything. In my semi drunken state, I let myself reminisce in a pool of memories and alcohol.

I wish I had spent more time with her. Over five years and I'm still aching for more. Every night, before we were even a couple, I'd go to the front door of her apartment and just stand there, my hand in a fist, ready to knock and tell her exactly how happy she made me. But I could never bring myself to do it.

I wanted to tell her my feelings since we first met, since the morning I got up early to make her pancakes, and she walked in with her over-sized jumper, messy hair and sleepy voice. I knew in that exact moment that she was the one I wanted to be with forever. I wish I would have knocked on her door one of those nights. If I did, I would've had more time with her, even if it was only a couple of days. I took her for granted all those years, and now I'd do anything to have her for even a minute.

With a clink, the now empty bottle of vodka was on the table and another was in my hand in a matter of seconds.

Every night before we'd fall asleep, I'd take a second just to look at her. Admire her. I would pick out all of the things I loved about her, so I'd always fall asleep with a smile on my face.
How her eyelids fluttered closed as she tried to fall asleep. The way the light freckles danced across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. From the perfect shade of her lips and the shape of her jaw all the way up to her (h/c) hair that always fell faultlessly into place. Everything about her is flawless.

I downed yet another bottle, opening the next but not bothering to finish. I set the bottle on the table in front of me as I felt myself grow tired once more. There was no point in going back to bed, where I'd just be greeted by loneliness with open arms. I slouched further down and rested my head on the sofa, shutting my eyes and eventually drifting off to sleep.

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I was woken up that morning with a splitting headache so bad I could feel my brain pounding against my skull. My back was sore from sleeping on the floor for the night, and I'd lost all tech feeling in my butt at that point.

I rubbed my eyes to wake myself up, before massaging my temples in attempts to ease the head pains, but to no avail. I didn't dare get up right away in fear that I'd get dizzy and fall over, so I stayed sitting for a few minutes.

When I felt awake enough to move, I started to lift myself off of the floor, but felt something holding onto me. I turned to my left, surprised to see Hazel asleep on the floor next to me, her arms wrapped around one of my legs. I stifled a quiet laugh as I smiled down at her.

"Hazel." I whispered, poking her arm in  an effort to wake her. After that got no response, I tried again.
"Hazel, wake up." I prodded, lightly shaking her. Still no response.

"Hazel, what's--" It was then I noticed the near empty bottle of vodka on the table, nowhere near as full as I left it last night. Panic start to set in as I realized the situation.
"Oh my god, Hazel?! Hazel, wake up, please wake up!!" I almost screamed, picking her up in my arms as I reached for my phone and dialled 999.

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So I'm sorry I suck so much at updating

Kinda shorter chapter but I wanted to end it on a cliffhanger bc those are kinda my thing

and I'm sorry for feelsy chapter ;)

(Imreallynotthoughcoughcough)

ilysm <3

~breanna