neon moon ✮⋆˙ dan/arin
a/n: i had the help of one of my good friends on this one! i know it's some heavy stuff for a first imagine, but we spent hours on it and i'm quite proud of it, as angsty as it is. enjoy!
word count: 2,477
The stale, stagnant air of the recording room served as an endless echo chamber for the fabricated ramblings of a friendship worn thin. Just beyond the door, a separate world of busywork and chatter beckoned invitingly, but it wasn’t time yet. There were but four minutes flickering on the neon clock, which Dan privately cursed himself for checking as frequently as he did. It wasn’t his fault- obviously he loved his job, he loved his coworkers (subordinates? friends? he really didn’t know anymore), but being here was the last thing he needed right now. It wasn’t Arin’s fault, either, although his presence wasn’t exactly comforting. Normally, work was an escape, but the extraneous persona Arin insisted upon was growing tiresome, and at that present moment, Dan simply couldn’t take it. In a way, he envied him, because it seemed as though Arin could flip a switch and become the marketable, chaotic force that their fans loved so dearly, while Dan struggled to fit through the door of the office with the baggage he tried and failed to force in. He couldn’t help but stare at his companion as he began the obligatory outro, becoming dangerously aware of his own silence and cursing himself for not contributing more. The fans would notice his change in demeanour, and the clock was pulsating with a threatening urgency, showing two minutes remaining. Dan knew he had to pull himself together, even for a fleeting moment, to feign normalcy, to pretend he’d been paying attention to this seemingly never-ending gameplay, to convince their devoted fanbase that nothing had changed and everything was fine.
“Dan, uh… you got anything to say?”
Arin’s words sliced through Dan’s internal monologue, reverberating through his core. He tried to swallow his uneasiness, the acute awareness that even through Arin’s disingenuous projection, he knew something was different. For now, he didn’t care about that- he was in the home stretch, he just needed to cross the finish line.
“Shit, uh, wow. What is there to say? If you’ve made it this far, thank you and… I’m sorry.”
Arin laughed dryly but cocked his head in a way that let Dan know he wasn’t off the hook just yet. He tried to swallow the bile forming a tar pit in his throat as Arin closed out the episode, directing his focus to anything but the burning in his chest and the man next to him.
The clock read 00:00:00, signifying not just the close of the episode, but the end of the recording session. Normally this was when he would take in a breath, and feel the relief of the promise of going home, but home was nothing if not an extension of the discomfort he was already in. At least with Arin, he could cling to their former glory, their “Golden Age,” knowing the pride that it gave him would be understood. In recent years, he had been able to ride that wave of courage and affirmation that he could play the role of the big softie he had grown fame for. As of late, the avoidance of feelings, the illusion of a functioning work-based friendship had taken a toll on Dan’s capacity to produce a performance worth trust and appraisal.
“What the fuck was that, dude?”
Dan suppressed an eye roll- he knew that he was right, but he didn’t want to acknowledge it.
“What do you mean?” Arin shot him a look that Dan knew meant he wasn’t going to entertain his facade of ignorance. “Whatever dude, you and I both know you don’t want to go there, so just drop it.”
Those were the words that set Arin off his tipping point. He was tired of these snippy remarks Dan felt comfortable enough voicing, as if they didn’t have any effect on him.
“Is this seriously because of what happened on Suzy’s birthday?”
Dan threw his hands up in mock surrender and prepared to leave. “Oh, yeah, because it’s seriously because of one night of honesty I’m pissed off?” Arin looked at him as if it should be obvious that that should be the case, “No, dude, this shit stacks up! I’m not just pissed off because of what happened on Saturday, but it’s not like that isn’t a factor- it’s just,” he let out a deep sigh and used all his energy on not tearing up, “it’s a lot of things, okay? I can’t take this right now, I’m sorry.” Dan’s heart raced as he danced around the subjects that had been plaguing his mind for, god, who knows how long? He knew that Arin had been in a relationship with Suzy for far longer than any of Dan’s past relationships, but the pain of the love he felt for his co-star that stung his skin- he couldn’t follow the narrative that Arin was in just as much turmoil as he was.
“I’m sorry, what the fuck else would I think it was? It’s not like you’ve let me in on whatever the fuck you’ve been feeling.”
“Because you’ve asked so many times how I’m feeling? Yeah, whatever, you’re clearly not ready for this conversation.”
“Because it’s always on your fucking terms, yeah, okay Danny, go ahead and push the blame on me for not knowing intuitively how you feel.”
“Sorry for thinking my best friend would maybe have an inkling of an idea of how I’m feeling, given the fucking bullshit we’ve been darting around for the last two fucking years.” There, he said it, essentially. He all but acknowledged the growing gap between them, and the budding resentment that had been cultivated due to their mutually assured ignorance.
Arin stood up, at a loss for words, he made for the door. Dan soon followed, standing, not wanting to let Arin leave first—it was petty, but he wanted to leave sooner so that for once, Arin wouldn’t have the last word.
“No, you’re not gonna do this, I’m not gonna let you leave the conversation just because you heard something you didn’t want to.” He let his words linger in the air for a moment, before continuing. “This is why we never hang out anymore.” They stood before each other, wordless. Dan was shocked he finally said that, and regretted that he hadn’t said it sooner. Arin was shocked he had said it at all.
“Wow, dude!” Arin replied. He swallowed the tension, palpable in the air, and Dan bites back the urge to further instigate. “What the fuck is this? What is this actually about?”
Dan scoffed, “as if you don’t even know?!”
“No, please! Enlighten me! What the fuck did I do that’s so horrible?!”
“It’s not that black and white! For fuck’s sake, Arin, I’m nothing without you. You know that.”
“No I don’t,” Arin snarled. “If you’re gonna start with the self-pity shtick, it sounds like you’ve already made up your mind. You don’t even want a conversation, you just want me to echo what you already believe.”
“And what? What do I already believe, Arin? No, tell me!”
“That you’re looking for something in me that you know I don’t have? That you’re using me as a way out of a dead end?!”
Dan sat on Arin’s words for a moment. An induced lull brought on by the pettiness of both men, neither wanting to say something to jeopardize the integrity of their relationship that they’d grown accustomed to. Arin let out a soft, disarming chuckle.
“God, you’re unbelievable,” said Dan.
“Can’t you see that we’ve been dancing around in circles forever? Just say what the fuck you mean!”
Dan opened the door and left the recording room.
Dan stormed out, with Arin quick to follow behind him. “God, you’re unbelievable!” he repeated. “You think it’s all about you. Try thinking about how it makes me feel!”
Arin stepped in front of Dan and gave him an apprehensive look, “Listen dude, just because I don’t say anything, doesn’t mean I don’t notice.”
Dan scoffed again, this time in Arin’s face. They were standing in a tight hallway, with white shelves lit up with LED strips, encasing Amiibos.
“So what the fuck does that mean?” Dan retorted, uncaring of how he was coming off. He was pissed off, he had been for years, and he felt just in his anger towards his friend.
Arin rolled his eyes at Dan’s snide response, “Whatever dude, I don’t want to have this conversation surrounded by a bunch of fucking Amiibos.”
Arin turned around and began walking away from Dan, when Dan grabbed him by his shoulder and exclaimed, “if not now, then fucking when?!” Their eyes locked on each other’s. Arin glanced at Dan’s lips, he thought to himself he might have seen a quiver—when Dan got worked up, he always got a few twinges in his face, Arin knew. The deafening silence of the hallway allowed for their ears to hone in on the natural sounds of their bodies, the swallowing, their breathing, hot on each other’s exposed skin. Dan felt his emotions brewing inside of him, he was so pissed off at Arin for his apathy, short temper, and avoidance, but he couldn’t help admiring how the light reflected off his skin. He wanted to kiss him but he knew he couldn’t.
“Dan…” Arin started, soberly, “Danny, you know I care about you, but now is not the time.” Dan looked like he was about to start up again, but Arin stopped him with a hand on his chest, poignantly not looking in his eyes—he couldn’t bear to look at those deep, big brown eyes of Danny’s. “I know, I know, we’ve been avoiding talking about things for a while now, but I’m certain, I’m certain you can realize that talking about this here, in the Grumps office, in this hallway? We can’t do it.”
“I just-” Dan’s semi-hardened exterior cracking, “I just want to be honest with you… About us.” He said, placing a hand on Arin’s cheek, turning his face towards his. Arin pulled Dan’s hand away, and closed his eyes.
“Danny I-” tears began to well at the corners of Arin’s eyes, “I’m sorry… So fuckin’ sorry.” He finally looked up at Dan.
“It’s okay, come here Big Bear.” Dan brought Arin in for an embrace. Arin let out a small, defeated sigh, and chuckled. “How many times do I need to tell you to not call me that here?” He smiled, softening into Dan’s arms, snuggled beneath his chin.
“I’m past the point of caring.”
Arin grimaced against the familiar warmth wrapped around him. “You know it’s not over yet, right?”
Dan sighed, bristling against his boss. “It may as well be.”
“Don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what, man?! I mean, fuck, do you even remember the last time we were close like this?”
“I try not to.”
Dan let go, staggering back and struggling to maintain any facade of nonchalance. “I’m sorry?”
“Right, because remembering what we were does us both so much good.” Arin spat. “I’m doing us both a favour. You need to… fuck, I… we… need to move on. Okay?” His words hung heavy in the air, as Dan tried not to choke on them. Arin sighed and started again, “I understand that you’re going through a lot, I am too. But this? This isn’t helping either of us. You know that. I know you’re smart enough to know that.”
Dan wanted to let go, God, did he ever, but he couldn’t. And more importantly, he wouldn’t let himself. “So that’s it? You want to shut me up, so that’s all there is to it? What about me? Huh? Ever stopped to think about how the fuck I’m feeling?”
“All I do is stop. All I do is drop everything for your every whim when we don’t even fucking talk outside of these walls. I mean, come on, man, even if I gave in, if we ran off and abandoned everything together, things would still be weird. And you pretending like it’s as simple as me fessing up isn’t getting us anywhere.”
“Oh my god, yes, because I obviously think we’re going to live out the Brokeback Mountain ending of our dreams, riding off into the sunset!”
“Dan, I don’t think that movie ends how you think it does.”
“Well, I could never finish it because all I could do is think about us!”
They were still standing in the Amiibo hallway. Arin laughed through tears, overwhelmed by the outburst of emotion perspiring between them, “heh do you remember that one time? At the bowling alley?”
Dan placed a finger on his lips, “no… not now. For me, please don’t.”
“I thought you loved remembering.”
Normally, Dan would’ve suppressed an eye-roll at that, but the gentle informality, the soft reminiscence curled his chapped lips into a smile. “Shut up.”
“I thought you’d never stop laughing. You were giddy just about the whole way home, and the way-” Arin took Dan’s face in his hand and caught his gaze, “the way you fell asleep on my chest… I hadn’t been that at peace, that comfortable, in a long time.”
The moment lingered for what felt like forever. The two men soaked in the silence, the pure and honest exposure of feelings released in needed and craved earnesty. Their hands somehow found each other’s, warm, dry, they fit into each other like two puzzle pieces, destined for one another.
A woman peered around the corner at the end of the hallway, “uhh, guys?” The Grumps snapped away from each other. For Dan, the separation left him cold, and burned across his skin. For Arin, reality quickly set in and he returned to his bitter, hardened self, accepting the fact that they will never get to fully express themselves in the way they both wished they could. “We’re locking up now, sooo…” Allie stalled, “I’m sure your wives are wondering where you both are.”
“Shut the fuck up, Allie.” Arin barked.
“Okay then,” and Allie crept back to where she had come from.
Arin and Dan were frozen, still in the middle of the hallway, illuminated by the blinding LEDs. Their eyes caught each other’s, Arin began, “listen man, I think it’s best we put this all behind us, and I know you do too.” He had a sense of finality in his voice, and poked Dan in his chest. He began to walk away and around the corner, when he turned around and finished, “oh by the way, we’re starting a new playthrough tomorrow, so try to get here on time, okay? I’ll see you then.” He gave the wall a bump with his fist and disappeared around the corner. Dan was left alone with himself, as always, standing resolute and forsaken, surrounded by the soulless eyes of Arin’s collection of Amiibos.