It was raining outside. The soft scent of daffodils and rosemary drifted across the room, fanning it's way from the flowers on the windowsill to the tiptoes of a dreamily sleeping being named Daniel Howell. Maybe it was the soggy atmosphere, or the fact that it was eight o'clock on a Saturday morning, but the alarm clock belting out a Fall Out Boy song from 2005 made Dan fume with regret that he had signed up for a community volunteer session at the local park.
Yes, something about free labor in return for gracious smiles from regular park-goers, mostly small families carting their tiny sons or daughters in a stroller in front of them, brought an exceptional sense of accomplishment to Dan, but freaking eight in the morning?! Are you kidding me?! The devil's hours four through ten were, yet Dan knew this was for other's joy, not his own selfish desires, so he kicked his bed sheets off over him and quite literally slid out of bed and onto the cold, wood-paneled floor.
After a swig of orange juice, a handful of sugary cereal, and five minutes of mental preparation, the Howell boy was out the door, draped in his favorite pastel pink sweater with blue overalls and curly hair to match. He checked his watch: a quarter until the meeting, it read. I'm in for the long haul if I want to get there in time, Dan sighs. What a wonderful way to spend your morning... Exercising...
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Dan made his way towards the park. A middle-aged woman with light, brown hair holding a clipboard stood in the dirt clearing where they instructed to meet.
"Greetings!" she chirped. "I am Julie Rinspel, the director of this project that is going to turn this empty clearing," she motioned to the ground, "into a garden that the queen herself would be proud of. I'm going to take roll now, so all who signed up on the online forum say "present" when your name is called," she stated sunnily in a southern American accent.
About five names, of what looked like twenty in the group, were called before "Daniel Howell, nice to meet you, dear," was called. The others were what seemed to be standard British names like "Thomas" or "Parker"... The usual.
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Finally, after an hour or two of weeding and planting, everyone was given word that a break was in order. Honestly, Dan was feeling rather parched. The obvious cure for that, of course, was Starbucks.
As he walked into the java shop filled with regular customers and the overwhelming scent of coffee beans, Dan instantly felt at home. He prepared to ask for his favorite iced coffee, but for some strange reason, something was off about the joint. Duh! He removed the light purple raincoat that he had brought along in the case of continuous inclement weather. That's much better.
Dan went up to the counter, and was instantly greeted by a beautiful man who seemed to be about his age, if not older. Now "Phil", as it read in sloppy handwriting on the man's name tag, was not beautiful by the conventional standards of some model in a magazine's "dream prince in shining armor". No, Phil was, for lack of better words, hot as hell.
Covered in tattoos of all designs, sizes, and popping colors, the man looked intently at Dan as if to whisper the only words he needed to hear right now, the few words that would send Dan over the edge of infinity, the words that woul-
Dan's shoulder was being shaken gently by Phil who, almost as politely as he could in the five minutes before his shift ended, pleaded, "Sir... Earth to flower boy... What would you like to drink, mate?"
"An... Um... Oh, yeah... Grande iced, um, coffee, please... Phil," Dan stuttered.
"Okay, that'll be..." The gorgeous man spit out an amount for his drink, but Dan wasn't paying any attention to his words; he was only concentrating on how Phil's voice spilled out from his lips, pierced on both sides, and how-
Dan was being shaken yet again as he was asked if "everythin' was ace, mate" and for his name. "Dan-Daniel..." He responded. Ugh! Pull yourself together, Dan, you pansy!
After paying both in pounds and in a venti amount of apologies, Dan sat down at a booth meant for two near the window of the establishment. Come on, Dan, it's not like he fuckin' likes you anyway. You literally just met-you're complete strangers. Just let it go...
Dan took his fingertip and slid it across the foggy glass in the satisfying shape of a frowning face. Soon after, he heard his name called by a barista, so he slipped on his raincoat, thanked the woman for his drink, and went out the door and down the pavement that lead back to the park.
Author's note:
The parts will be updated every day or so, but, honestly, if the fic continued on this way, would it be as enjoyable for you as it is for me? Comment letting me know pls thank -Em
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Bloom >> phan
FanfictionDaniel Howell, quite literally labeled a "flower prince", has taken the initiative to garden in a community volunteer session. On his break later that day, he meets a very nice looking man, cloaked in tattoos, who serves him his coffee before going...
