Work Text:
Link to the original song is here: "Stan", by Marshall "Eminem" Mathers (Link updated 1/24/2016).
Dear Dan,
I wrote you but you still haven’t called. I sent my cell, my pager, and my home phone last fall. I sent two letters too, wonder if you got them?
Probably a problem at the post office or something. Sometimes I scribble the addresses too sloppy when I write them.
Anyways, fuck it. What’s been up man, how’s you’re movies? I loved the POA dude, that one really moved me. If I get a chance, guess what I’m gonna do? Gonna see it again.
I read about how hard you been working lately. I really do appreciate how much you work so plainly.
I know you probably hear this everyday, but I’m your biggest fan. I even got the “Behind the Scenes” work that you did in Jan. I got a room full of your posters and your pictures man. I like that shit you did for charities too, that shit was fat. Anyway, I hope you get this man, hit me back.
Truly yours, your biggest fan.
-Write me Dan
Dear Dan,
You still ain’t called or wrote, I hope you have a chance. I ain’t mad, I just think it’s fucked up you don’t answer fans. If you didn’t want to talk to me outside the premiere, you didn’t have to. You could’ve signed an autograph for Amanda, she’s my little sister man, She’s only eight years old. We waited in the blistering cold for you for four hours, and you just said “no.”
That’s pretty shitty man, you’re like her fucking idol! She wants to be a wizard Dan, she likes you more than I do. I ain’t that mad though, I just don’t like being lied to. Remember when we met in London you said I was cool, and that we’d keep in touch. You see, I’m just like you in a way: I started early in theater. I used to always get up at dawn just to be there. I can relate to what you’re doing on stage. I use it to take out aggression there, day by day, cause I don’t really got pills to chill me out when I’m depressed. I’m thinking getting clothes exactly the way you dress. Sometimes I cry out in anger and in pain. Like madness, the sadness is such a physiological strain. You see, everything you do is real, and I need it just to sell it. My conscious is jealous of you twenty-four seven. But no-one knows you like I know you Dan, no-one does. No-one knows what it was like for people like us growing up. Don’t let me down man, I’ll be the biggest fan you’ll ever lose.
-Sincerely yours,
PS-We should be together too.
Dear Mr. “I’m too good to call or write my fans”,
This’ll be the last letter I ever send your ass! It’s been six months and still no word; I don’t deserve it? I know you got my last two letters, I wrote the addresses on them perfect. So this is the last letter I’m sending you…I hope you read it. I got a gun in my lap, it’s a .45 ACP. Hey Dan, I shot my little sister tonight, remember Amanda? You know how I told you about her on my last agenda. About how we waited outside for you for four hours at the premiere; waited in the blistering cold, then you finally came out of the theatre and just said “no.” That’s kinda how this is; you’ll be stuck out in the cold now….it’s too late, I’ve downed a gallon of Vodka.
All I wanted was a lousy letter or a call! I hope you know I ripped all your posters off the wall! I loved you Dan, we could have been together, think about it. You ruined it now, I hope you can’t sleep and you dream about it. And when you dream I hope you can’t sleep and you scream about it. I hope you’re conscious eats at you and you can’t sleep without me!
You see Dan…
*Police banging on the door*
“SHUT UP ASSHOLES, I’m writing a letter!”
Hey Dan, that’s the police banging at the door, but I ain’t gonna let them in, I’m too tied up, just like you. They’ll stand out there and pound and there’s nothing they can do!
Well, that’s it, I’m now done….in the end Dan…you won.
*Door bursts open, SWAT team enters*
“DOWN, DOWN ON THE GROUND…”
*Silence*
“No, no don’t do it…sir, we can talk about…..”
*Gunshot*
*Dan writing letter*
Hey man,
I meant to write you sooner, but I’ve just been busy. You said you’re sis waited that day, how is she? Look, I’m really, really sorry about that. Attached is a picture of me, I sent it with an autograph. Sorry I didn’t see you at the premiere, I must have missed you. Please don’t think I did that to intentionally ditch you. And what’s this stuff I hear about the plays you’re into? I say that is pretty awesome dude, I would love to come see you.
You got some issues though, and I think you need a friend. Someone to keep you from bouncing off the walls when you’re mind bends. And what’s this thing I hear about us being together? Now I’m not so sure that I want us to meet each other. I really think you and your sister are awesome together, and she loves her brother.
I just hope you read this letter; I hope it reaches you in time, before you hurt yourself. I think you’ll be doing just fine, if you relax a little. I’m glad I inspire you, but man, why are you so mad? Try to understand, that I do want you as a fan. I just don’t want you to do something crazy. I read this one story a couple weeks ago that made me hazy. Some dude was drunk, and shot his little sister dead. Then the police showed up, and he shot himself in the head. And in the apartment they found a letter, they didn’t say who it was to. Come to think about it, his name was….
It was you.
Damn…
*Thunder*
The studio shakes as thunder rolls across the ground outside. The single window in Daniel Radcliff’s room is smattered with raindrops; many pouring rivulets down it’s sill, distorting the gray sky beyond.
There’s a knock at the door, jarring Dan out of his reverie. “C….come in.”
Rupert Grint walks in. “Hey mate, how’s it going?”
“Hey Rupe,” Dan responds, sill looking out the window.
*Silence*
“Umm, are you okay dude?” asks Rupert, stepping closer to peer at Dan’s face.
Dan turned away briefly, realizing that there are tears trickling down his cheeks. He wipes them away, never having been one to show his feelings openly. “Yeah…..yeah, I’m fine.”
Rupert snorted quietly. “Then why are you crying? Talk to me, mate?”
Dan smiled slightly, and shook his head. "Naw...it's nothing..."
*Silence*
"Rupe?"
"Yeah, mate?"
"Do....do you ever get the feeling like...like you're not doing enough in this world? Like each autograph isn't enough, nor every pound isn't enough to give to some charity or another? That maybe there's one person....one person out there, who you miss completely, but really needs you're attention?"
*Silence*
"Ummm...well, I guess. I guess I don't really think about it though. Why do you ask."
*Silence*
"Naw, it's....it's nothing. Thanks Rupe."
"Errrr...yea, no problem mate. Hey, don't forget: Set 7 in about five minutes. The Bathroom Scene." *wink*
"Hehe..yeah...I better get ready. I'll see you out there soon."
"Will do man."
*Door opens, closes*
Daniel turns back to his desk and stares at the small stack of letters. Sighing softly, he pulls open the drawer, takes out a autograph picture, and signs it carefully with a pen from his pocket. Opening the drawer again, he takes the last letter, and carefully folds it in with the picture. He places it in the drawer, next to a small stack of out-going mail.
Looking up once again, Dan peers out the window. The sun is poking out, and already puffs of steam can be seen floating gently towards the afternoon sky. He sighs peacefully this time, and gets up to go find his makeup artist. After all, he cannot be late for this next segment.
As the door closes softly behind him with a click, the sun shines brightly through the window, illuminating the desk where Dan sat just moments ago. If it were open, the drawer would reveal its content to the warm sun's rays: a letter, with an autographed picture attached to it....
To my biggest fan, from Dan, with love.
~Fin~