Daniel Howell x Jojo Siwa

the dinner

A/N: if you're reading this again, congratulations, you're a psychopath! it has been a full year and im rewriting this at 1 am. aaaaaanyways be prepared to want to fucking die again because this!! is the dojo fic!! also this is an age up/down fic, whatever you want it to be oh well. the only thing im gonna say is that mister Howell is 2 years older than Jojo and Phil is a year older than Dan okayyyy onto the hell that i put myself through.

A small sigh escapes my chapped lips. Jojo and I were, again, supposed to go on a date today. We've scheduled multiple dates lately that she has not shown up to. To be frank, it pisses me off to no extent. She swears up and down she will be here but, low and behold, she cancels. I always look like a fool having to leave. All alone, and angry.
I put my thoughts on hold as the chair across from me makes a loud screech. I look up at the blonde girl, hair pulled back with a bow like always. Sometimes I dont understand why I stay with her. Maybe I dont want to hurt her, or maybe I dont want to be alone. She tucks her dress down and sits. I lock my phone and sit it on the edge of the small table.
"Im so sorry im late. Work has been really busy lately and," I cut her off. "Its fine, dont worry about it." I flash her a fake smile, grinning wide, making my teeth show a bit too much. She grabs my hand, staring into my eyes. "How have you been lately? Are the people at work overdoing you?" She rubs the pad of her thumb along my palm. "It has been a lot, but I'm so much better now that im here with you." I mentally roll my eyes because of how fast she talks. I could barely understand a word she was saying, dear god. 
"I love you, Dan."
"So, why were you late?" She lets my hand go, rolling her eyes. The smile that once lit up her face is gone and she's annoyed. Her squeaky high pitched voice is starting to give me a headache. "Does it really even matter? You're late to a lot of things but I never ask where you were or why you were late." I look at her with such an annoyed look. "That's because I'm only ever five or ten minutes late. And whenever I'm late I always explain, you never even need to ask."
Just with a single groan, I can tell she was doing something that would piss me off. Her phone buzzes and I glance at it. She turns it off and snaps her fingers in front of my eyes. "Let's get this date done and over with, alright?" I nod in agreement.

After a while, the waiter comes with our food. I grab my fork between my fingers and stare at it. I could stab her. But I won't. But I could. "Daniel," she drags out the word, "you're my boyfriend, talk to me. I didn't come here to sit through an awkward dinner." I look up from the food and imagine the fork going straight through her eyes. "Not for long," I mumble under my breath and she furrows her brow. "What was that?"
"Ah, I said I like your new song."