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

*26*

HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT DAN AND PHIL MOVING

-rya
~~~

[Second Person's P.O.V.]

"Fuuc-" you murmured, struggling with consciousness. A battle between you and yourself. You were fighting against the darkness. Not kicking ass so far. 

You heard voices but no words. Just mindless babbling, in-formidable slurs. Faceless whispers, screaming. You could identify that much. You knew someone was screaming. You wished you could.

But you couldn't.

All the strength in your body, your whole willpower, everything you'd ever had was being used now. You knew if you lost consciousness, you may never wake up. You were hell bent on waking up. Your thought process scattered. A million things at once, fading, bleeding into one.

'Focus, Y/n,' you kept telling yourself. But you couldn't grasp onto anything. There was nothing you wanted to be alive for, except-

Dan.

Dan, his beautiful smile. That little dimple on his cheek that looked like a sad face. His little fringe. His 'hobbit' hair, as he called it.

Conscious.

You heard voices but you couldn't focus on them. Your vision had blurred long before, was fogged over with black and coloured spots alike.

Needed to stay awake.

You heard a voice. A familiar one. You could place it exactly. It was Dan's. There was a pressure on your stomach and you were lifted off the ground.

"D-Dan..." you mustered up all the strength you could grab from every corner of your being to say it. You needed him to know you knew he was there. You heard his voice, urgent, panicked, calling out, but still no coherent words. Nothing you could understand.

When he got mad and yelled at his game because he died. Dying. An odd concept, isn't it.

You weren't ready.

You grasped onto anything. His warm hand on your back when you two hugged. The music store. His voice, soft enough as not to scare you, but rough enough to be his. How he always talked in that soft voice, always around you.

You refused to go out like this.

The day you two met. He'd saved you from a scum. When he found you on a park bench, he didn't leave. He took you to F/n's house. He hadn't even known the second thing about you, yet he'd done it.

Slipping away slowly. Not yet.

You felt yourself being lowered, but did you really? You felt as if your body didn't belong to you anymore. You were feeling, but not.

Wouldn't it be easier to just leave?

Escape this cruel, fucked up world?

It would. But you were never one for the easy way, were you? Always stubborn, getting yourself into situations where you had to do a little extra work.

Regaining consciousness.

You finally closed your eyes. You couldn't keep them open. But you felt your hand being clasped, by large hands, strong hands, Dan's hands. You knew his hands. And you felt a warm tear stream down it. A pleading voice. The voice you had to stay alive for.

Near-death experiences were always a battle. You couldn't give up, but you wanted to.

Not this one.

You wanted to stay alive, wanted to with everything you had, and you would do everything you could to do so.