Searching for him.... (Dan Howell x reader) ✔️

*27*

technically it's like 1am so this isn't the day i promised it but it's okay right

-rya
~~~

[Dan's P.O.V]

"Phil, what the fuck do we do?" my eyes were shaky, pupils dilating, taking in everything. We were hiding in the bathroom of a plane, trying to make sure Y/n didn't bleed to death, while Rya and Justin were in the corner, hiding, hugging, arguing. I'd never understand them. Bruno was sitting near them. F/n was in the remaining corner, asleep, her headphones still plugged in. Phil gently reached over and unplugged them, then kissed her cheek softly. He turned around and looked me in the eyes.

"I have no fucking clue," Phil responded a second later.  I looked at him with a serious face, then grinned. Although the girl I loved was bleeding out and two teens were arguing in the corner of a small bathroom stall on a plane that we'd snuck into and were probably going to get arrested or shot, there was a hidden comedy within it. Underneath everything that had been piled onto my shoulders, weighing me down, causing difficulties in every day life; I found comedic relief within it.

And I couldn't help but laugh.

So I did, and Phil did too. Snickering and giggling, we attempted to be as quiet as we could so we wouldn't raise attention.

We continued for what felt like the better part of fifteen minutes, when our faces were red and there were tears down our faces. Rya and Justin were still arguing, but I felt at peace slightly.

Until I remembered who's stomach I was pressing a cloth to. Until I remembered Phil having to extract a bloody bullet from my love's insides. Until I remembered.

Remembering is an odd thing. You'll be perfectly fine one second, then you'll remember something. Come to a realisation. And everything won't be fine again. Usually it's something small, like what you forgot at the grocery store. But this was bigger than that.

It was bigger than any of us even realised, in that small, crowded bathroom.

Bigger than the plane that we flew in.

It was bigger than my entirety of existence that had happened thus far in the story.

But I didn't know that at the time. All I knew was Y/n was bleeding out, there was an hour of the flight to London left, and there was nothing else I could do. But cry.

God knows I could cry all I wanted. And I did. I cried until I was dehydrated, and Phil had to pretend to be a passenger in order to get me a water.

Have I mentioned what a good friend he is?

And I cried, pressing the soggy rag to Y/n's stomach; crying until there were no tears.