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Dan never liked being coddled, to be honest. It's just that everyone around him had gotten accustomed to catching him where he falls, whether they like it or not. And literally or figuratively, a tree falls in the forest and makes a sound. In his case, a sound of gratitude, but not quite the words of "thank you" or "I owe you". Perhaps it was less of gratitude and more of relief. Relief that he had quite a support system.
This relief had turned into a looming fear that reared its head right after Naomi had left him, of course. It was a double-sided emotion, a package deal. You could only get the freebie once you've taken on the burden of buying the product. Reminds him a little about Jo, deals like that were up her alley. The burden is a bit more abstract, but the weight is there. But of course, most people would talk about free things rather than costly things. Hence, Dan's attitude towards looking for the freebie, what he felt he deserved return. Most times he did not deserve it, most times it never existed. He couldn't help being wired that way, seeking the shorter path. But life tends to attempt beating some sense into the man before actually deserving something, which more than likely becomes pity.
Of course he knew that nothing about life was easy, and of course he knew that he was dependent on his friends and family to even survive living day to day. It's just that that he, the half who viewed the world rationally, was always present. Much like that pity, he had to be lured out, often by force. Given a space. Basically wrung out of his flesh.
It simply wasn't a side he showed to people, since by that point he would be unable to ask for support. The only caveat, really. If Dan were a rational man, fully self-aware of his being and impact on others, he would immediately understand how he wouldn't have deserved help. He'd already pushed multiple people to their limits– and will continue to do so. It would have been the final nail in the coffin.
But his day had come, life dragging him by his hair to make sacrifices and give back what he owed. He had to fix it all: his job, his home, virtually everything, and start from scratch.
He walked away from his former home, fuming. Rational brain convinced he'll figure something out.
Generally, his friends and family were all targets of his outward displeasure. Whether he was being entitled or not, he depended on his Mum, his Aunt, Brian, Jo, the whole works. He took what he could and gave back nothing in return but unpleasant dissatisfaction. He was just a regular old dick. But as each of them stray away from his reach, where would his frustration go? Who will he depend on?
Dan took it out on everyone else, of course. He normally does, as long as they weren't an authority or such, but this time, his words had cut sharp. Every bit was personal. When anyone in town had actually pitied him, it filled him with indescribable anger, which made his words more venomous. Often times he was driven to yelling incoherently. His frustration had been boiling beneath whilst his rational self took control, slowly creeping out of him.
It took him quite the beating to realize he was basically Icarus, if Icarus could never fly in the first place. Dan didn't need wax wings to fail him, he was already grounded. He was never going to find Emma, nor was he leaving this godforsaken town.
•
His forms wrinkled as he gripped them tightly, walking out of the gym with a temper in his gait. It wasn't quite the straightforward beating, although he was convinced that Ben was in the right to drag him off the premises. He didn't need to, anyway. It was night time, possibly early morning hours, and he took it upon himself that walking around will make a good enough exercise. He needed the fresh air, crisp and cold through his lungs. If he breathed in long enough, he'd forget the stench of sweat that lingered for hours.
Despite all the relaxing aspects of his walk, he was still quite bitter. That bitterness was simmering long enough to turn into a harshness, a resentment. He was ready to lash out once he's well rested himself, but who will be the target, anyway? He's the only one out there, stumbling like an idiot with no coat nor wallet, just the sheer frustration oozing out of a walking column. There's no fun in lashing out at wildlife, which doesn't seem to be buzzing either. Nothing in disrupting nature in general. It was rare for him to get to the point of sadistic glee once he berates someone, but he was desperate to complain at this point.
The park was dimly lit by streetlights, and the isolation, aside from drunkards asleep by the benches and trees, had now become an unbearable itch.
He'd eventually stumble onto Jo's old camping spot, a mound of dirt and gravel. Dan couldn't understand how she had survived living all this time, but he wished he got some wisdom. He sat on the paved walkway– which was thankfully lit by a solitary lamp post– facing toward the makeshift campground. Pulling out his phone, his hand hovered her phone contact, but he couldn't quite get himself to ring her.
In fact, why had no one reached out to him? First, they ignored his first proclamation, his objective, hell, the first time he actually heeded Emma's advice. Then, being kicked out of his own home with next to nothing in his name, losing his dignity in the process. He even feared the loss of his own self, his emotions, as he glared into the shower locker mirror. Regardless of all the damage done to his face, he couldn't even quite recognize what was staring back, nor did he know what he felt at all. He should feel something, right? Yet he felt like he was slowly petrifying himself, getting visions in the far future of himself as a ghastly caricature of misery in stone, as children vandalize him.
He slumped forward, his head now in his knees. Dan never really thought he could possibly get any lonelier, given his already tumultuous love life, but now his support system had completely torn itself apart. Brian totally loathed him, and had probably wisened up to how Dan treats him. Perhaps they won't even be friends anymore. His mother, manipulated by a tiny man he had the ability to knock into a wall, yet being the one person matching his rational self's conclusion of being a total loser. Jo, who's likely deeply disappointed that he can't help her with her shop. There are lots of people that Dan's disappointed in his lifetime, yet letting Jo down made him feel the worst. A sickening feeling swelled at the pit of his stomach.
At first, it was simply despair. It was natural to be miserable at this time of night, which is likely doubled over by the fact that he's practically homeless. He was thankful that he was truly alone this time, as his eyes started to sting. But he wasn't the peaceful type, the type of bummer that keeps to himself. The frustration of his scramble to fix his life began to take hold, wanting to roll himself up into a ball and aim towards anywhere at this point. Dan immediately crumpled up his Visa forms, thrown at any direction he liked. He knelt forward from his fetal position, his palms meeting the ground. Then, he yelled, propelling himself like a professional runner in high gear. He tackled a nearby tree, smashing his hands into its trunk. Dan screamed a second time, much more hoarse and teary, as pain from the impact sent waves of pain through his hands (now in fists), as well as his arms. There were also splinters, causing him to cry out. He started sobbing at this point, burying his face in his hands while hissing from the pain.
Getting tears involved simply riled him up even more, as humiliation set itself deep beneath his skin. He'd rather punch a tree than honestly admit that he's just struggling, and gets back at the world, hitting his head into the wood. The impact does not bounce, and Dan's forehead stayed on the tree, the rough bark tearing the skin on his face. He then repetitively rammed his forehead, groaning. Once he'd lose focus and stumble back, he leaned on the trunk one last time, his legs giving in from the rigor of exercising all evening. He miserably slid downwards until his knees were on the dirt, his head still rested on the bark. It almost looked like he was clinging to the tree, attempting to cuddle. He doesn't budge anymore, simply sobbing at his sudden lashing out. Unconcerned about the lesions on his skin during the ordeal, he curled up on the ground.
Perhaps his pitiful state would lure his friends and family back. Maybe even gain enough sympathy from the town folk for them to even do something. Get taken care of by nurses. Or he somehow bleeds to death, and that's alright by him too. Whatever would be the outcome of his little outburst, it wasn't his current problem— nor did he care, lulling himself into unconsciousness.