The better things are going for Dan Dunne, the harder he is to find.
- Dan Dunne x GN!Reader
- 2,087 words
- Not proof-read!
- Hurt/Comfort, Co-dependency, Soft angst, Character analysis, Established emotional relationship, Non-confirmed lovers, Self-destructive behaviour, Emotional Avoidance, Substance abuse, Quiet Intimacy and Domestic Angst!
A/N: I'm so sorry this took so long for me to finish, we had some hiccups along the way... I ended up cutting this a little short towards the end because it just felt like I was dragging and dragging it without a direction BUT ALSO... I'm very hard on myself when it comes to writing I've never been a fan of sharing it so I hope y'all like it x
Something that Dan Dunne never told you when you first met was that the better things are going for him- The harder he is to find.
Usually when someone goes off the deep end and throws themselves into their own pity, you have to dig to the bottom of your bag and grab a key you haven't seen since the last time your feet landed on the “WELCOME” mat- you'll usually find them high off their ass mumbling about how this is everyone else's fault but their own. A lot of the time they aren't exactly wrong, but not exactly right either. It's a personal battle I suppose. Addiction always is. Arguing with yourself on unfair terms because you can hardly think as it is. Add another line of coke, a layer of hurt on top of it to throw yourself off, hurling insults at the mirror in favour of something more volatile- wound yourself even deeper in the hopes it'll be more addictive than the drugs, but it never is, and it never will be. Dan knows that better than most.
At this point, the pattern is unsurprising and predictable. He’ll let the losses at basketball games itch away at his skin, he’ll let the teacher-parent conferences cause an uneasy feeling in his stomach, he’ll scrape by on paycheque to paycheque and ignore the responsibility of bills and adulthood in order to chase another high that was never as good as the first. All the while, you're hearing all about it; his complaints, his opinion on the political state of the world, how his students keep him grounded, that one time he went to rehab and it didn't do anything for him- it was hard to follow along.
⋆ ༺ 𓆩☣︎𓆪 ༻ ⋆
Despite the presence of clutter and music adorning the air and the walls of your home, the halls still somehow felt gaunt. The phone in your hand had been trying to make a call for the past couple of days now- not repetitive to be counted as possessive but frequent enough that the bile of concern that fell from your throat after the tone to leave a voicemail was paramount.
“Hey, Dan.”
You whispered softly, your eyes cast to the side as if trying to look for any reason as to why he wouldn't pick up the phone, why out of all people it's you he wouldn't answer to. The wallpaper on your walls watched you pace and whisper under your breath into the phone, bills strewn across the table like dandelion seeds in a vacant field, the bin filled to the brim with crumpled and ripped paper, a small testament to your ever thinning patience and increasing anxiety.
“Not heard much from you recently.”
You followed, a teasing hilt in your voice as if his lack of absence wasn't making your heart so heavy you swore it was increasing your orbital gravity everywhere you went. Slumped shoulders, a smile turned upside down, eyebrow's tensed towards the middle and your feet making your body do a gentle sway back and forth for self-soothing in a way that wasn't very soothing at all.
“I miss you.”
Silence answered you back in that familiar and hunting way. You wished that it was anything but familiar, but you had come to learn its name and personality rather well and with time you were convinced that it was no longer your enemy. The phone was cold as you held it against your ear for another distressed couple of moments before it was slammed back down into its receiver home and left forgotten until the next time you wanted to call dan and knew he wouldn't answer.
He had always been talented in disappearing in ways that didn't count. Leaving without really going anywhere. The only thing he really left was the knowledge that the next time the phone rang? It wasn't going to be him telling you that his students won a game of basketball or that he had finally gone to rehab- it was going to be a phone call pleading for a presence that wasn't his own because if Dan Dunne knew one thing better than anything else? It was himself. He needed you to tell him he was good, even if he wasn't. Even if he knew that.
Your home felt louder than it usually did, even with absence. Nothing had changed since you put the phone down, but it felt like it had. A loud yelling that came deep from inside your brain, a high-pitched nagging that told you to see for yourself, to take matters into your own hands because if you didn't? your own restlessness might kill you. You exhaled through your nose to try and release tension from your chest, lifting a heavy hand to the top of your scalp as if to quiet it, but it didn't work.
The keys sat abandonded and lonely on the kitchen counter, the light beaming from them in the hopes you would take notice and take action the same way you had multiple times before. It wasn't unusual for you to check on him and that was the saddest part; the most dangerous part in a way routines like this often were. It wasn't unusual enough to warrant mocking laughter, but frequent enough to make you feel shame. You knew it was bad because every time you went to make sure Dan hadn't died alone in his apartment, autopilot was switched on.
Before you could stand around long enough for the logical side of your brain to tell you ‘He’s an adult, if he needs help, he can ask for it’ you were already slipping on your shoes and grabbing the cold keys that had been on this trip one too many times, just like yourself. You told yourself this would be the last time; you always told yourself that.
⋆ ༺ 𓆩☣︎𓆪 ༻ ⋆
The knock landed softer than you had meant for it to and much like when you called, silence met your slight annoyed glare. Your jaw was locked as you waited, looking side to side in a restless pace as if he was going to turn up and much like usual, he never did. Nimble fingers searched for the spare key you swore he could ever regret giving to you.
“Dan?”
The lock gave easier than expected and the door creaked open with a mourning like groan as if sensing your shame for repeating a cycle that never seemed to give way. One hesitant foot placed itself in front of the other as you entered and the door clicked shut on your way in, sealing your fate to whatever state you were about to witness Dan in.
The apartment looked... Normal for the most part, maybe a little too normal. Your eyes flitted over the nicotine-stained walls, small crumbs scattered over the brick flooring like constellations, a mug here and there. The apartment was lived in, as it should be, which was a small reprieve to the ever-raising nerves that tickled the nape of your neck like an oversized bug.
“... Dan?”
You called softly once more into the warm air that smelled like his cheap aftershave and laundry detergent. This was strange, not because dan hadn't greeted you at the door or called for you from somewhere in his home, but because it was clean. Clean meant effort, trying, getting up every morning and clearing all the chores from your list before letting your tired bag of bones seep into the springy mattress. Dan was a weak man, cocaine and crack pipes usually took favour over doing the dishes and laundry.
Suddenly, a small shuffle came from the room you expected him to be in, the one he had claimed as his own. The shuffle had been small but sudden, as if someone had suddenly remembered that they had a body and needed to move it to keep themselves alive and languid. His bedroom door was creaked open, not so much so that you could get a full view, but enough to see his posture and to tell that he was alive. A sigh of relief pushed itself from your lungs and your shoulders slumped from the exhaustion of paranoia, having truly believed that maybe this was the time that he took it too far and wouldn't be around to apologize after.
Dan sat slumped at the edge of his bed. His back was curved into a bridge, his head hung low as if his thoughts were making his head too heavy for his posture. His room was cleaned in a way that felt purposeful all while he himself was left behind to rot.
“Most people usually knock, yanno...”
He rasped, his Brooklyn accent peeking through every word he spoke, and while he didn't seem happy (he was never happy) that his misery and wallowing in self-pity had been interrupted, he also didn't seem angry. Dan lifted his heavy head and straightened his back, rolling his head against his shoulders with a noise of herculean effort and twisted his neck to flash the tiniest of smiles at you.
“Or call”
“I did call.”
Dans mouth twitches, not enough for you to call it amusement but enough for you to be able to tell that he was soaking in your words and now sitting in the consequences of his own actions, the action being that he made no action at all.
“Yeah... didn't know what to say...”
He whispered, dragging a hand down the bottom half of his face in the same way he usually did whenever he felt himself getting slightly tense. Awkwardness settled down between the two of you like an old friend and Dan didn't know what to do with himself. Meanwhile, you had finally stepped through the crack in the door and finally moved into his space, settling yourself down next to him without permission and without looking at him. You didn't need to look at him, you had done this enough times before to know that he was perfectly fine- even if he didn’t look it. Every time he vanished like this, you knew it was because he thought he didn’t need you anymore.
“You look… okay.”
His eyes flitted up to look towards your own and he rose a singular eyebrow as his chest coughed with amusement and a tooth showing grin broke his face.
“Just okay...?”
You didn't respond for a couple of seconds and within that time, Dans previous face splitting smile slowly reduced itself into a flattened expression. He inhaled deeply and ran his hands over the lower half of his face as he often did while you pressed your knees together and gently tapped your fingers against the fabric of your jeans in a gentle tune. This short period of silence had made you realised that during the duration of time that you and Dan had known each other, neither of you had actually taken the time to stew in it. You had always been the one listening to dan fill the silence with his complaints and agitations towards anyone but himself.
Dan let the silence make itself at home for a few more mere moments before he bent over in his original spot beside you and ran his nervous bitten fingers travel through his hair. He moved his hands in front of his face and spoke in a muffled tone.
“Sorry...”
You cocked your head in turn at his tone, a faint smile dancing on your face.
“Nah... Sometimes you just gotta get your head down and do what you still can.”
You spoke back, your tone having a bittersweet undertone of hope. He didn't reply straight away, he didn't feel a need to. He felt reassured enough to believe you that his silence was acceptance that things didn't always have to be so difficult. He rubbed a thumb over the edge of his knuckle as he took a deep breath. He nodded behind him in a whisper that sounded nothing but loving-
“C’mere.”
Your back laid itself upon his springy yet still comfortable mattress as it dipped underneath your weight and you huffed a smile as you twisted your neck to look at him, just to find him staring right back at you. A giggle was shared before you both sighed and settled back into the silence.
It didn't feel like peace, it properly never would, but it was close and good enough for both of you.
