Flower ((A Dan Howell Fanfiction))

Chapter Five:

The Colony wasn't as fancy as I imagined. No. It wasn't crystal chandeliers or ice sculptures. It was a grill of sorts.

Adam got us a table, and Emily sat next to me, smiling at me as I looked around at all the people around me.

"So, Chris," Adam says from across the table. I look at him, slightly startled. "How was your flight?" Inwardly, I groan. But I tell him of my flight and everyone is seeming to listen and is acting intrigued and even laughs when I tell them of how I was the audience for a terrible comedian.

I sort of smiled.

A waitress came over and asked what we would have as our drinks, and for a moment, I was taken aback, just listening to her accent. I was sort of jaded. She gave me a quizzical look, and I shook myself out of my stupor, and ordered a water with lemon. When she realized I was American, a blush spread across her cheeks, and she apologized for staring.

I was slightly confused, but I told her she was okay, and then she walked away.

"Did I do something wrong?" I ask Emily.

Xander answers instead. "She thought you were fucking with her. It's not often that there's an American here." Emily stage-whispers "LANGUAGE!" across the table, and Xander scoffs, looking down at his phone which he had resting on the table top.

"What he was trying to say was that its very strange for a tourist to come in and then immediately freeze up when asked something. I'm pretty sure it's the accent, but it's still unprecedented." Emily's accent was softer than her husbands, and Xander was a mix of them both, but I guess they weren't the ones with the accents. I was the one with the accent.

I am the strange one.

The waitress comes back with our drinks and apologizes again for staring. "I really thought you were ignoring me."

I shake my head. She smiles, takes our orders, and then leaves again.

"So, Em here tells me you're an artist."

Now I'm the one blushing.

I stare down at my hands, nodding slightly. Adam chuckles.

"Don't feel embarrassed," he said, and it was kind of hard to concentrate on breathing steadily with all these intriguing accents around. I tried my best to shut them out.

"You don't have to explain if you don't wish it," Emily said. I look up at her, and clench my hands in my lap, trying to calm my heartbeat, and when its finally calm, I pull out my phone and hand it to her, a folder of my artwork already opened for her.

"Just swipe left to look at the next one."

I'm still shaking a bit as Adam and her look through the pictures of my art. From original characters to watercolor pieces to just straight up bad sketch pages, they look through it all.

Xander is giving his parents weird looks as they make little gasps and comments, and I'm looking around to see if anyone is watching us.

Emily hands my phone back to me once they see all the pictures, and they both praise me on my supposed talent.

I'm fiery red when our waitress comes back with our food.

+++++++++++++++

Adam pays the bill while Emily tries to tell me how to understand British currency. Together, we all stand up and make our way to the doors, leaving.

I'm the last one out, and on my way out the door, someone walks past me and we bump shoulders.

Nervous, I turn and apologize.

And it's him, turning to apologize as well.

"Dan, are you okay, mate?" someone says to him, and when my eyes drift over, I see Phil, his best friend. I don't stay to exchange heartfelt hellos. I cough out my apology, and then turn and fast walk back to Emily who made everyone wait for me.

"Who was that, Chris?"

I rapidly shake my head and murmur, "Please go." She doesn't question it. We go, and I can hear Dan calling out "HEY!" after me, trying to get me to stop.

I can't hear him anymore when we finally get to Adam's car.

Xander is sitting next to me in the backseat when he asks:

"How is it that Daniel Howell, the famous YouTuber, knows you. He was calling after you. He knew you."

"He can't possibly. I sort of saw him at Playlist in America, but before I could even get up to say Hi, I had an anxiety attack and fled. My best friend found me under a bench twenty minutes later. It's been months since he's even seen a glimpse of my face. He can't possibly remember me." My face is turned to the window, but in the illuminated reflection, I can see Xander looking over at me worriedly.

"You suffer from anxiety." He didn't word it like a question; he just worded it like something that was said to just be said.

I nod slightly, a little uneasy to be sharing my mental illness with someone I didn't know. "Chronic," I tell him.

He hums to himself, quiet for a moment.

"I suffered from anorexia up until a few months ago. I've just now started to put on weight and to learn to love my body. It's hard, but I'm getting there."

I look over at Xander, but he just smiles, nodding his head.

"We're learning," he said, and we sat in silence for the rest of the ride.