ain't it fun? // phan

prologue

"if you talk, you'd better walk, you'd better back your shit up"

For a few, fleeting moments, Daniel James Howell truly believed he actually had his life together.

Fate had been kind to him, truth be told, and therefore he was blessed with a good job that paid well, a large and sprawling network of connections and a girlfriend anyone would be lucky to have.

Fate was, however, a complete cunt when she wanted to be.

April 20th, 2016. 8:20 AM.

Three months, two days and 7 hours to the wedding.

He woke up with an almost catlike stretch, stretching nimble fingers above his head and grimacing at the echoed crack.

He sighed a soft smile as he watched Alyssa, his gorgeous girlfriend (now fiancé) stand in the doorway, her dark eyes staring into his; her jet-black hair fell over slender, ebony shoulders, framed by a loosely-fastened white dress shirt of Daniel's and not much else. What made Daniel more excited, however, was what she held between two dainty, dark hands - coffee. Her long, black acrylic nails tapped in rhythmic patterns against the ceramic white, the words "World's Best Journalist" (in fitting Comic Sans, something he'd found much more amusing than she had) marked across it. He grinned, greeting her with a 'morning, sweetheart' as she prowled across the room, before leaning over him and pressing a kiss against his forehead.

"Morning." Her voice was warm against his skin, the smile audible in her American accent. "You excited for tonight?"
He hummed in response, leaning up for a kiss as she rested the cup down on the beside table, replying with a gentle peck. His hand roamed under the shirt to her back, clumsy fingers resting against her warm, dark skin, pulling her closer - she laughed gently in response, her eyelids fluttering as she kissed him harder.

"Can't believe I'm marrying you so soon." Daniel's voice after the exchange was a little hoarse, the smile and excitement obvious; Alyssa replied from her place beside him (sprawled out on her back, head resting on the curve where his neck and shoulder met) with a nod, apparently anxious. "Better start getting ready for tonight, then." She, sounded hollow and distant - Daniel blamed it on nerves. He let out a grunt of agreement, chugging the now-cold coffee before getting up and walking towards their shared ensuite. He blushed as Alyssa wolf-whistled at his bare body - being a full body blusher meant he went pink positively everywhere, which was especially obvious when one was as pale as Daniel was.

He took his time with his usual morning ritual, wanting to look nice for the day's important events; Alyssa had been kind enough to pick him a sleek, black silk blazer and a pale blue dress shirt with tight black jeans for the day's occasions. Daniel let himself spend more time than usual making himself look presentable; fixing his floppy dark brown hair just right, smudging charcoal black liner beneath his dark eyes (just enough to make himself appear "smoldering" and not like a Chris Angel wannabe).

Upon exiting the ensuite, Daniel noticed three things.

One - his bed was suddenly perfectly made. The cloud-soft white duvet was tucked neatly, the pillows perfectly fluffed and the black & red top sheet resting over it all smoothed perfectly. This was, of course, in a strange contrast to the state of disarray the bed had been in before Daniel had prepped himself for the day.

Two - the suitcases beside their shared walk-in wardrobe were gone, without a trace. Alyssa often went on private jets and to parties and the like without telling Daniel - being an actress and all - and this wouldn't have been surprising if it had been a normal day. However, today was Their Day, their special one, and it wouldn't have been very characteristic of her to just up and leave like that.

Three - His coffee cup - his favorite, shitty meme cup - had disappeared, and in it's place rested a well written note in purple ink.

Danny,

I'm sorry, Danny, but I can't do this. I don't want to marry you and be forever known as "Mrs. Daniel Howell". I love you, but I'm tired of being Hollywood's golden girl. I don't want to be famous anymore. I'm tired of having to be perfect.

I'm sorry, Danny.

- Alyssa

It was just as Dan had feared. She'd left him without a single word, just as seamlessly as she'd came. Instinctual tears of shame flooded his dark eyes as his fumbling hands grabbed for his iPhone, unlocking it and calling his agent.

"Ryan? Yea, I'm absolutely fucked."