Waking up with a horrible hangover wasn't how Dan intended his Sunday morning to begin. He collapsed back onto the comforts of the bed. He closed his eyes and prepared to go back to sleep, before shooting his eyes open again.

This wasn't Dan's bed.

He sat up in the strange bed, and stared straight ahead at the brick all in front of him. It was dark in the room, with no windows and only one door which was closed. Where was he?

The person next to Dan groaned. Dan narrowed his eyes and turned to look at the person who was apparently sharing a bed with him. Holding in his gasp when he saw Sarah, and that's when everything came back.

"D-Dan? That's you, right?" She yawned, stretching and rubbing her eyes, turning to stare at Dan, the blankets pulled up to her chest.

Dan gripped his forehead and moaned, "Fucking hell..."

"You okay? You got wasted pretty early," Sarah laughed, "Probably should've stopped you sooner. Oh well." 

Oh well? Dan holds back a scoff as he looks at Sarah. 

She suddenly throws the blankets off her and walks across the bedroom, picking up her scattered clothes, pulling on her shirt without a bra and pulling on her skirt. She pulls on her boots and grabs all her other jewelry and accessories and walks out the door, turning her head and fluttering her fingers at Dan. 

Dan stared at the black door for what seemed like hours after Sarah was gone, shocked at what had just happened. Hell, he wasn't even that sure what had happened himself. 

A little longer after Dan had stopped staring at the door, he pulled on his skinny jeans and ironic One Direction t-shirt and walked out the door into the club. 

"For fucks sake," Dan hissed. 

He'd been that guy at one of those clubs. One of the things he'd never wanted to be. He was so pissed at himself and Phil was probably just as pissed. 

As if on instinct, Dan quickly pulled out his phone and dialed Phil, who answered on the second ring. 

"You have an awful lot of explaining to do," Phil answered, his voice in a monotone, stoic tone, sending chills down Dan's spine instantly. 

Phil seemed to be able to posses that power; scaring the living shit out of people when he wanted to, even though most of the time he was a sweet guy. Dan knew he had fucked up as soon as he heard that voice. 

Dan forced out a chuckle, "Nice to hear from you too, Phil. Just at an abandoned club that quite resembles a slaughterhouse." 

When Phil didn't respond, Dan stopped laughing and rushed out a long loop of I'm sorry's.  

"Well, you should know I'm definitely not coming to get you. Find your way home, okay? Don't hook up with anyone along the way, if that's easy for you," Phil cut Dan off of his twentieth sorry, and Dan let in a sharp intake of air. 

Phil was pissed. 

+

Dan stood in front of Phil with wide hopeful eyes, out of breath from the explanation he'd just provided. 

"I don't like her," Phil finally said, "She's a bad influence, I don't want you around her."

Dan rolled his eyes, "Certainly, Mama Phil. I won't hang out with her simply because you've told me to." 

"So this girl is going to waltz in, pick you up, get you drunk and fuck you, and you're going to hang out with her again like this never happened?" Phil scrutinized, crossing his arms. 

Dan didn't respond, and Phil sighed. 

"Fine. Only because I don't like being mad at you, but Dan, that girl is basically that Taylor Swift song. A nightmare dressed like a daydream," Phil muttered, waving his hand around. 

Dan nodded, and then went into his room to quickly change. When he came out, Phil questioned him on where he was going. 

"I was going to apologize to Zoe about last night, okay?" Dan told Phil, to which Phil simply nodded. 

The brunette quickly walked out of the flat, unlocking his phone and rereading the text that was sent to him. 

starbucks at 5? then my place ;-)  

+ 

What the hell even was this chapter oh god this story is going downhill already. 

Phil is so out of character it's cringeworthy I'm so sorry oh hell. And the Taylor Swift reference is cringy I can't even oh god I'm so done with myself.