Flower ((A Dan Howell Fanfiction))

Chapter Four:

Turns out, I was going to look bomb ass after all.

Tana hugged me, whispering to me that she was going to miss me.

It had been three months since that letter came in the mail.

Mom was the next person I hugged. She squeezed me the tightest, and Dad, not wanting to miss anything, enveloped us both in a hug. We stayed like that for several minutes.

Nobody else had come to see me off.

A nice lady over the intercom announced that my flight was boarding and I felt ice cold anxiety lodge itself inside my stomach. Both my parents let go and Tana latched on.

It felt like forever before she let go, but I knew it was only a few seconds.

I pick up my carry on and turn around, not saying anything as I make my way to the boarding terminal.

Before I walked into the terminal, I stopped and turned around, and did the one thing I never do: I spoke up over a crowd of people and said:

"I'LL BRING YOU BACK A BOY!"

Tana smiles and then starts crying, raising a hand to wave goodbye.

I wave back, and then turn, boarding my plane.

Which turned into an eleven hour flight of me being a catch-all for a three year old and her mother, and then once the flights changed, an audience to a bad comedian. I didn't want to be rude, so I hid my earbuds in my shirt and put one in my left ear, listening to him with my right.

After about an hour, I tuned him out and went to staring out the window.

For the remainder of the flight, I slept. Sorry, comedian guy.

I woke up when the pilot spoke over the intercom to announce our immediate arrival.

Once we land, everyone waits for the pilot to announce that we can move and then it's a mess: everyone trying to get their things and get off the plane. I grab my carry on and try to get past the (now) angry comedian who is taking his merry time to vex me.

"If you'll excuse me," I politely said as I shoved past him with my carry on crushed to my chest. As I pushed past, he started to curse me as I walked down the aisle to exit the plane.

The airport was about the same as an American airport; this one was just filled with a sea of accents that dazzled me.

I immediately went to Baggage Claim and collected the three ginormous suitcases and rolling trunk that held my things. When I got them, I stopped.

How in the fuck am I supposed to carry all of this and still be able to drag this trunk?!

Sighing, I stacked the suitcases on top of the trunk and walked behind it, pushing. I felt like a fucking character out of a Harry Potter movie.

Mom told me before I left that she had talked with friends of a friend and that they had agreed to house me during my stay in London. Supposedly, the wife was supposed to pick me up from the airport. So, I trudged through the airport, pushing my trunk, and suffering through several dirty looks from a demographic of people I'd never thought I'd be a part of.

I finally found the front doors of the airport.

Outside the glass doors was a grey sky, and people milling on the sidewalk. There were a few cars lined up next to the curb, and standing next to one was a gentle looking woman in a trench coat, tapping lightly at a cellphone. She put away her phone and looked up, and spotted me through the windows.