Dan Howell Smut

Mr Howell

"We are one in the same,
Oh you take all of the pain away, away, away,
Way, away, away..."

Pain?

"Save me, if I become,
My demons!"

Just then, the figure started moving. His head tipped back and rested against the wall as his right hand traveled down his jumper, then jeans and then to the wooden floor boards to then skim across the flooring and reached out to something shining in the reflection of the moonlight.

"I can not stop this sickness taking over,"

Suddenly, you saw something savaging. From the light from the moon, the shiny object reflected the light and illuminated the persons face.

Mr Howell. It was indeed Mr Howell.

"It takes control and drags me into nowhere,"

But it didn't look like him. He looked dead, not that he wasn't already dead inside but still. His facial features actually looked drained and tired, frail and fragile. He looked ill. So, so ill.

The beauty from every aspect of his face had gone.

His heart was on his sleeve.

He seems...depressed. So fucking depressed.

Then, you realised what was in his hand.

"I need your help, I, can't fight this forever..."

A knife.

A sharp, long, thin blade, flickering in the moonlight.

'Fuck.' You thought to yourself.

Suddenly, you're legs gave way from the fear and sight of the blade and caused your knees collided with the door, attracting Mr Howells attention.

Just then, when he sang the next line, a smirk graced his dry lips,

"I know you're watching,
I can feel you out there..."

Eye contact. Solid eye contact was made when he sang the chorus.

"Take me high and I'll sing,
Oh you make everything ok, ok, ok,
K, ok, ok,
We are one in the same,
Oh you take all of the pain away, away, away,
Way, away, away,
Save me, if I become,
My demons!"

Slowly, ever so slowly, Mr Howell reached out to grab the knife that he had lowered before, from the floor.

Still singing, he began to trace the blade over his forearm. Oh god no, not the fucking beautiful forearm!

"Take me over the walls below,
fly forever,
don't let me go,"

I felt like Mr Howell was taunting me, trying to pull me in to his games, to make me stop him.

The blade was slowly, yet surly, piercing his skin. Ruby red liquid began to spill from his porcelain flesh and drip down his forearm as he made the long savaging cut.

If he was in pain, then he was doing a pretty good job at hiding it.

Continuing to slice himself, the smirk still stayed on his dry lips. His eyes were waiting, curiously, for if I would step in and stop him from hurting himself any further, or if I would just walk on by.