A/N: Sorry this is so late, I've been really busy
April 21st
It's called the dead of night because it is believed to be the rare occasion when everything is silent. There are no birds chirping, no traffic, even the constant buzz of ancient street lamps seems to be dulled by the suffocating darkness that has fallen over the land. Given its serene stillness, many people use this time as an opportunity to rest. Or perhaps it is still because of the lack of humanity? Who's to say. One thing that is certain, however, is that the majority of Great Brittan is enclosed in a peaceful slumber. Aside from Dan Howell, of course. The metallic clicking of the young man's typewriter sounds unusually loud in his otherwise silent apartment. Despite his heavy eyelids, he feels wide awake; he's finally thought of a good storyline, something that might give him a chance at winning this writing competition.
It was a frosty winter morning Dan typed feverishly. The barren snow scape before me felt almost as empty as my head.
Where was I?
How had I gotten here?
Question after question clawed its way to the front of my consciousness, sending me into a sense of panic.
Dan's fingers worked tirelessly against the plastic keys for several more hours, and only rested once their owner noticed a single ray of sunlight shining through the window and lighting up the apartment.
"What the—" The young man turned on his phone, checking the time.
8:30 a.m.
He groaned, letting his head hit the back of his chair. Why did he do this to himself?
Shoulders slumped with the exhaustion of yet another sleepless night, the young man pushed himself out of his desk chair and shuffled over to his kitchen.
Dan grabbed the kettle out from one of the cabinets, setting it on the stovetop. As he waited for the water to boil, he busied himself with tidying up the kitchen. Before he knew it, the faint whistling of the kettle was filling the kitchen, rising like a crescendo of flutes.
Dan dumped a pack of instant coffee into a mug, then adding the water. The familiar taste of the drink was enough to help him open his eyes all the way, but not enough to give him back his usual energy.
A few minutes later and Dan was feeling more mentally awake, but physically dead. As much as he wished he had slept, he wouldn't go back and change anything; he had finally thought of a story idea! This could be it, his big break.
Then again, was that not what all aspiring artists thought at the slightest glimpse of recognition?
Pushing his negative thoughts aside, Dan made his way back to his bedroom. He caught a glimpse of himself as he passed a mirror; his hair was a curly mess atop his head. After a moment of contemplation, the young man decided he wouldn't bother straightening it today. It was too much effort, not to mention that he had been wanting to change up his look a little bit.
Roughly an hour later, Dan had showered and gotten dressed in a pair of black sweatpants and a matching oversized sweater; he really didn't feel like putting
Effort into his look today, he just wanted to be comfortable.
With his key ring jingling softly in his hand, Dan made his way down to the shop. He faltered halfway down the stairs when he felt his phone buzz twice in his pocket. He pulled it out, reading the notification from his home screen.
Phil Lester 9:23 a.m.
Hey!
Phil Lester 9:24 a.m.
I was wondering if I could drop by some time today to talk about that portrait you'd be modeling for?
Dan quickly typed out a response.
Yeah, sure! Feel free to stop by whenever ?
Great! I'll see you then
Dan grinned, sliding his phone back into his pocket.
Although the two men had only been friends for a few days, they had quickly bonded over their many similar interests and were on the path to becoming good friends.
Humming lightly to himself, the writer continued downstairs.
…
"Oh, come on!" Dan groaned, dropping the stack of books he had in his arms.
Swearing under his breath, he climbed down off his ladder, gathering the scattered paperbacks. He resented restocking the shelves.
He had just managed to finish the second box of books when the door swung open, and Phil walked in the shop.
"Hey!" Phil grinned, walking over to the ladder.
"Hi, how are you?" Dan climbed down, holding out his hand for Phil to shake.
"I'm good! I brought you Chinese food," Phil held up a bag of takeout, which Dan took gratefully and set on his desk.
"Thank you!" Dan grinned, "But you really shouldn't have."
"It's no big deal. So, what are you up to?" Phil asked, eyeing the ladder.
"Well, I'm trying to restock the shelves," Dan sighed, "but that's pretty hard to do when I drop the box every three minutes."
"Can I help?" Phil offered.
"Oh, um yeah! Can you grab that box off the table?" Dan motioned to the final box, which was filled to the brim with heavy hardcover books.
Phil nodded walking over to the table. Grabbing the handles securely, he picked to box up. Or rather, he attempted to.
"Ah!" Phil let out a sharp gasp, dropping the box.
"Phil?" Dan looked over at his friend in alarm, hopping off his ladder, "Are you alright? What happened?"
"I'm—I'm fine. It's nothing. I guess I just slept on my shoulder wrong." He muttered, rubbing his left shoulder.
Dan had a creeping feeling that it was more than just a sore muscle, but decided not to pry.
"Oh yeah, I hate when that happens…You know what? I'm hungry, let's take a break from the books." Dan suggested, not wanting Phil to hurt his arm again.
Still looking rather embarrassed, Phil nodded in agreement.
The two sat down with their takeout, eating lunch al desko.
"So, about the painting," Phil began, talking between bites, "I'm leaving for New York tomorrow for this business trip for my dad but I'll be back next week sometime. I was thinking we could work on the painting that Tuesday and Wednesday? Whatever works for you, really."
Dan nodded, taking a bite. "Yeah, I'm free pretty much all week."
"Great!" Phil paused before adding, "Also, would you be interested in going to see a movie some time after that?"
Dan grinned, wiping the food off his mouth. "Yeah, definitely."
"Alright, start thinking about what you want to go see," Phil gave Dan a small smile.
After a few more minutes of small talk, Phil glanced down at his phone, checking the time. "Well, I should probably be on my way, I need to pack."
"Okay, it was nice talking to you," Dan grinned, "And thanks again for lunch."
"Yeah, no problem! I'll be pretty busy but I'll try to text you when I can."
"Alright. I'll see you in a week then?"
"Yeah, see you in a week," Phil waved, stepping out of the bookstore and into the busy streets.
A/N: Sorry this was boring and not very well-written but I'm all out of ideas for this chapter.