dan's declassified fic survival guide //phan

5: nightcrawling

It was the same fucking room as the last time. He wasn't particularly glad to be seeing it. He also didn't like seeing he still looked like his eighteen-year-old self after a brief stare into his phone camera. Of course, he was expecting all of it after the ending of the last fic, but all the same, he really hated that room. And his baby-faced self. Dan remembered that he had to note down the events of the last fic into his guide, they were important. The draft email was opened up and Dan moved the page down until he found the point he was looking for. Not that he needed to look far, it was only the second item on the list which he needed.

2: Go to sleep and the Writer will be forced to create a new fic.

Underneath, he added:

2.5: Providing it is a oneshot.

"Let's get this over with then," he murmured as he changed the screen to display his inbox and almost impetuously clicked on the latest message. With every fic, he was realising that he'd never be happy with their contents. Dan might as well just accept his fate in that he'd be miserable until he found a way to escape the hellhole that had become his life.

The Writers.Co.Org
Story Number 5: Nightcrawling
Description: Dan knew that the events of a certain Tuesday morning were the closest things he'd ever get to a miracle. What Dan didn't know was just how lucky he was.
Tags/TW/Extra info: fluff, chaptered, strangers to lovers, pining, nerd!Dan, semi-redneck!Phil

Just like the last, the description was as vague as hell and equally as misleading as the headline of an article from The Sun newspaper or Fox News, with clear evidence that little thought went into it. The 'evidence' being that Dan could write a better description in his sleep.

Dan wasn't so sure of what brought his sudden spur of ideas on, perhaps he was just coming to the end of his tether, but he realised something: who said he had to cooperate with what the Writer had planned? Hypothetically speaking, he could fuck up everything that was planned and nothing could really be done about it. It wasn't like the Writer could control his actions, he wasn't a character in their stories, after all; he was a person. God, he'd love every minute it of it: he'd play along to what they wanted for a little while, just to keep them satisfied, but he'd know that the satisfaction would be shortlived and soon would cease to be anything but a memory of a time when they could dictate what Dan did. He was smiling, it was split in the middle of a cheerful beam and a maniacal grin, he'd finally have control and was suddenly able to make the life miserable of the person making his life miserable. It'd be the one sole thing keeping him going, but it was sure as hell enough.

Dan was stuck there, why not have a little fun to pass the time?

A little happier, he began to get dressed for school (he was assuming that that was where he needed to be that day), he haphazardly threw together an outfit and brushed his teeth and hair, then walked out of the door. He saw the school bus begin to set off from where it had previously halted in the road, Dan supposed that him missing the bus was some sort of motif in this fic. Unsurprisingly, a dark pickup truck was edging closer to where he was stood.

"It's a good thing that we've got this lift thing arranged, you'd never actually be at school if not." Dan wasn't sure whether that meant he didn't get the bus anymore or whether Phil just happened to be nearby whenever he was late and missed it. He just laughed along with him, figuring it would be weird to ask. He couldn't do anything weird yet, that was for later.

As expected, there was a different song playing on the radio. Like the other song, he didn't know it. Dan figured that the Writer had a different taste to him, that was all.