Chapter 3: This Is When The Feeling Sinks In
Dan walks down 11th Avenue, his coat pulled firmly around himself as a chilly breeze blows past him. Looking up at the hostel front door, he's thinking about how easy it would be to walk in, head to the concierge and ask if there is any mail for Dan Howell. He has his identification, they'd give it to him easily enough, and then he could-
What? Read the letters?
He had vowed to sever his connections with London entirely, it seemed foolish not to leave an address but the torrents of mail that followed meant it had to move, it was too hard not to just open up the letters that slid into his mail box almost every day; the familiar scrawl of Phil's handwriting on the address was enough to make him want to spend the rest of the night crying, and so he packed his things, paid for the rest of the month and, when asked, didn't provide a forwarding address for any mail.
Shoving his hands further into his pockets, his eyes stinging, he forces himself, like every morning, to keep walking past the funny old hostel, past his old life. He has made a promise to himself and it was for the best. For everyone.
He turns the corner and it's a busy road and he is free from his thoughts once again. It's funny how he choses to walk this way to work every day. Yes, it is the shortest route, but he could always just go around the longer way, it hardly saves two minutes of his time- but there's something about reminding himself why he's here, why he's doing this, that makes this path so important. He's come so close to packing his things and flying back home more times than he cares to remember, and if this keeps him from being a coward and giving in, he'll go through the torture every day.
Walking up to the supermarket, Dan clips his nametag onto his uniform shirt, running one hand through his short blonde hair. Peering into the reflective glass of the window, he can see at least half an inch of dark regrowth, some new bleach will have to be bough soon, maybe time for cutting some more off. He was worried about how he'd hide effectively, but short, blonde hair makes him almost unrecognizable, and the one time a girl looking for cheese pointed out that he looked 'like that British YouTube guy who lives with his friend', he managed to convince her she was mistaken.
The accent has taken some time to perfect, but after two months, no one even asks him where he's from anymore. In fact, he spent the first week mimicking others he heard speaking, while he wasn't looking for a job. It was hard at first, responding to the name Robert and remembering to put on the accent, keep a low profile, not make any friends… but by now he's used to it. Every morning he puts on his uniform, his accent, and his college dropout backstory and makes the twenty minute walk to where he worked every day.
It is a fairly simple job- stack shelves, clean up mess so people don't fall over, put misplaced items back where they belong, aid lost customers... The manager had been so pleased when 'Robert' had said he was free to work all day, any day, but Dan had subsequently been disappointed to find himself only scheduled on four days of the week, leaving three other days he needed to find something to do with.
Grabbing a box of crisps and heading down to aisle four, Dan reflects on how much he used to despise working here. He was constantly in fear of being recognized and lived for the time when his shift would come to an end. But that soon changed.
Dan learnt very quickly that being at work surrounded by people and tasks, with a manager watching your every move, was a far kinder prospect than the emptiness of his apartment and the silence which greeted him after work. He's managed to convince the manager to give him more shifts, so now the day only he wakes up, anxiously fearing every hour he had to sit alone, are Mondays; his day off.
He would give anything to not stay alone all day. But he had to, this was what he'd chosen to do and he wanted to do. As he starts to fill the shelf with the different flavours, in the corner of his vision he spots someone walking past the end of the aisle with straight black hair and pale skin. Forcing himself not to glance back, or walk down to the end of the aisle to check, he picks up the next packet of crisps and places it on the shelf.
This happened maybe three times a day- sometimes it was the hair, other days it was someone with a similar purple shirt. The first week he almost had a heart attack every time, thinking it was Phil and unsure whether to run and hide and pray he'd not been seen, or to go over and hug him as if nothing had changed and pray he'd be forgiven. But by now it is much less of a surprise, just a moment of hope, a moment where his heart races and a small smile sneaks its way onto his face, before he has to steel himself, turn to the task at hand and act as if he isn't constantly searching for the one person he misses the most.
Sorry this took so long to update! I had about three different options as to how I was going to write this and was sorting them all out before I confused myself XD Thanks to everyone who read the other two chapters and special blueberry cookies for NeverlandNat, hiilikecheese and Sasaphrinascream for their lovely reviews :3 I hope you enjoyed this one, Dan's perspective! I have a lot of plans but they are still somewhat forming so please let me know what you think :) Thank you!