Never Let Go - Danisnotonfire x Reader

Landlord Peasant

You get your suitcase out of the boot of your car and hurry into the dismal house, anxious to get out of the cold. There'd better be WiFi here.

You follow the man into what looks like a lounge. The walls are a horrible sludge brown colour, which makes you scrunch up your nose in disgust. There are a few tattered armchairs around the room, and an old coffee table, which has tea stains on it.

The landlord sits down on a red tartan armchair. As he does so, clouds of dust rise up, making you cough.

"So," he says huskily, fixing his small beady eyes on you and taking a swig out of a can of beer. "The money."

When you don't respond, he sighs furiously. "A hundred quid. Do you not have a brain?"

You hand over one hundred pounds, (about 146 US dollars at the time I wrote this) your hands quivering a bit as you give the crumpled up bank notes to the landlord. You bite your tongue to stop yourself from insulting him back. He snatches the money from your hand and stuffs it in his pocket.

"Your room is upstairs, first door to the left. Here are the rules, there will be consequences if you break them. You don't want to see me angry." He hands you a frayed paper sheet with a list of rules on it, written in almost unreadable handwriting.

He's such a creep, you think, but nod politely anyway and take the paper. What he said was true, you don't want to see him angry.

Seeing that he has nothing else to say to you, you drag your case out into the hallway and up the stairs, breathing heavily with the weight of it.

Maybe putting that pile of books inside it wasn't such a good idea after all... Oh well. You were never going to leave them at your mum's house.

You finally reach the landing and easily locate your room, seeing as there are only three doors to choose from. You assume one is the bathroom. You're not sure what the other door leads to, so you tentatively make your way towards it, your curiosity overcoming you.

The minute your hand touches the door handle, you feel a presence behind you. You turn around and see the landlord coming up the stairs. He sees you about to go into the room and crosses his arms.

"Yes, I meant to tell you about that," the grubby man announces, standing opposite you. "That's my room. I don't live in this house, but I like to keep a room here."

You raise an eyebrow in confusion.

The landlord sees your confused expression. "That was one of the conditions to living here, that you had to keep a room free for me. You looked at the website, right?"

You nod slowly. You don't remember that being one of the points. "Of course. Um... yeah, that's fine. So are you basically my flatmate then?"

He laughs dryly and shakes his head. "I won't buy food, clean the house or pay for electricity. That's all your responsibility. I won't go downstairs, though. If I'm here, I'll keep to my room. You pretty much live on your own, you just keep my room for me."

"Okay," you reply, slightly overwhelmed by the strange situation. You start to walk back to your room.

"One more thing," he continues. You turn around. "You don't ever enter my room. It's private, got it?"

You nod, turning back around and picking up your suitcase.

"I want a verbal agreement, sweetheart."

The nickname coming from his lips almost makes you shiver in intense discomfort. You turn around to face him for the third time. "I get it. I won't go in your room," you tell him. Once your back is turned again, you roll your eyes.

May as well just call it the West Wing at this point, you think to yourself, sighing inwardly. Ew, wait. That would mean I'm Belle and he's the Beast. Gross.

Your door is white, its paint peeling in places, and sticky tape marks all over it. You wheel your suitcase over to it and push open the door curiously. A cloud of dust sweeps into your face, making you cough once again and flap your hands about to get the air reasonably clear.

You plonk (yes, this is a word) your case onto the rickety wooden bed, which wobbles dangerously with the weight.

You immediately pick up the case again and set it on the ground, afraid the bed will collapse. It's covered with a faded puke green colour duvet. You lift it up to see the quality of the mattress underneath, and aren't surprised to see that the mattress sags in the middle, and looks very thin.

You aren't snobby or anything, but you wish the room would just be a little bit nicer.

It's very bare; only containing a small chest of drawers, a bedside table, a bed and a window - along with a few dull, depressing paintings. The walls are a pale grey colour and the floor is wooden, and very creaky when you walk on it.

You can practically feel the wind blowing through the window. You shiver and close the frayed blue curtains, which doesn't really help to block out the draught much.

You sigh and sit down on your bed carefully, pulling out your laptop bag from your case, and the laptop from its bag.

You open the sticker adorned lid and enter your password in, chewing your lip thoughtfully.

When the laptop starts up, you immediately check if there's WiFi. You've got your priorities straight.

There is WiFi, luckily. It's just locked - and you don't know the password. You pick up the sheet the landlord gave you and scan the words hurriedly. The password must be here, right...?

You sigh in relief as you find the password, typing it into your laptop and smiling as you connect to the WiFi.

You pull your hoodie sleeves further over your hands and enjoy the warmth given off by the bottom of your laptop as you browse.

*le time skip*

You furrow your eyebrows, looking at the property website you found this house on. The description definitely doesn't include the landlord's weird requirement for a private room. You've checked about five times just to make sure you're not missing anything.

Your stomach starts to rumble, so you go in search of food, tiptoeing downstairs. Eventually, you find the kitchen, which is decorated just as shi- um, tastefully as the rest of the house.

You're careful to not make any noise, as it's 1am, and you don't want to face the wrath of the landlord if he catches you up at this time.

From raiding the tiny kitchen, you find a fruit bowl containing a few shrivelled apples and mouldy oranges, some microwave popcorn and a small chocolate bar. Great.

You microwave the popcorn, grab the chocolate bar and pour yourself a glass of water, bringing the food upstairs again. It's not much, but it'll do until tomorrow. You'll try and find a supermarket then.

You can hear the landlord snoring loudly from the landing. Ugh, that's probably going to keep you awake all night. Yay.

You sit back on the bed and resume the 'browsing position', setting the bowl of popcorn and the chocolate bar on the bedside table.

You pull your earphones out from your suitcase, plug them into your laptop and put them in your ears. You eat a small handful of popcorn, go on to YouTube and check danisnotonfire's channel, to see if he's uploaded anything new. He hasn't, sadly.

Then you check AmazingPhil's channel and see that he hasn't uploaded anything else. You've already seen his latest video, but decide to watch it again.

Dan and Phil are definitely your favourite youtubers. You've been watching their videos since they set up their channels, and fell in love with them instantly. Who wouldn't?

After a while of watching their videos, your eyelids begin to droop and you fall asleep.