Good God Dan, We're Lost

A Danisnotonfire Fanfiction

I was stunned with myself. How easily I had gotten lost in London was astonishing. I generally pride myself on my keen sense of direction, but today was not my day whatsoever.

It began with my "Aunt Jen" (saying she isn't my blood aunt, but close family friend) shaking me awake. After blindly following her downstairs and ingesting what was probably a lethal amount of coffee, I realized she had awoken me in the time of day I call "before the ass-crack of dawn". I demanded an answer to why my beautiful dream of dancing with rude, crude rough-talking teddy bears had to end before the sun even arrived for the day.

I received the "we-have-shit-to-do-today" speech, and I just grumbled. Her twin boys, Duncan and George, tumbled into the kitchen, already battling for some unknown reason. I cleared my throat, which promptly reminded them to quit acting like dimwits.

Jen slammed an impressive breakfast, which was inhaled by the boys. I munched on some toast, still refusing to full wake up. I returned to my upstairs bedroom and found comfort in my squish pillow. I fell asleep again.

This round, I was taken on a ride as Aunt Jen's eldest and final son, Leo, came in and flipped my mattress to force me out of bed. I screamed at him and threw everything but the kitchen sink to say the least. Now actually awake, I got dressed and stormed downstairs, out the door and into the driveway.

I hadn't quite of the swing of sitting on the other side of the car when riding, so when I slammed myself in, I was required to immediately get out of the car and storm to the other side. Everyone else climbed in as we made our way to the city.

Once we arrived in London, I was in a far better mood. Though I'm sure the stop for chocolate was the only thing keeping me from starting WWIII in the car. We went all fumbled out of the car, and onto the pavement in-front of Jen's newest studio. Being a costume designer, she moved her outfit closer once she got an offer to do costumes for a few of the theaters in West End. I happened to get looped into helping her move, as I had come to visit for a short while.

We began work on the studio; mannequins were aligned like soldiers, and fabric was taking up space wherever it could. I had to dance around several dangerously large pin cushions with pins pointing out on all ends.

After a few hours of settling in, Jen let us go on break. I had just about enough of seeing everyone's faces this early in the morning, and I was in need of more coffee, pronto. I was about to venture off on my own when Leo jogged up to me.

"You sure you want to go on your own? I mean, the last time you were even in the country was when you were five years old." He lectured me. It made me feel like being defiant.

"Rest assured I'll be fine. I don't know how lost I can get if the nearest Starbucks is a few blocks away." I turned and gave him a dag wave, walking with confidence in my step.

Oh, how I would regret the decision.

I had been walking for a few minutes when I felt something wasn't right. If I was remotely close, and according to my phone I should be able to see it by now, I would definitely be able to see the bustle and hustle of people leaving and entering the coffee house, since it was now that time of day where people were grabbing coffee before work. I ignored my gut instinct (should've known better, I usually do) and kept on walking.

And walking.

And walking.

And walking.

By this point I was panicking. I hadn't seen any coffee house anywhere, my phone was being useless, and I had gotten so wrapped up in finding coffee, I lost track of where I had turned. I truly felt like crying.

So I did. I did get stares and some concerned passerby asked if I was o.k, but they quickly left once they couldn't decifer my sob ridden words. I had changed so much in the last 24 hours: I got up early, got lost, lost my cool in public. I finally sucked it up, and tried turning back and retracing my steps. Which only ended in me getting further and further away from anything.

I had finally stopped myself upon arriving at the most ghetto looking subway station I had seen in my life. I wondered how I got far enough to even arrive here when I heard very angry yelling quickly approaching me. A homeless man was running directly for me, bottle in hand, screaming about how he was going to mug me. Adrenaline kicked so fast, I think my feet moved faster than Flash. I nearly slammed myself into the ticket seller's booth, and I demanded the cheapest ticket out of here. I slammed an approximate amount on the table, and he handed me the ticket. I heard the screaming becoming coherrant words again, and I booked it into as fast as I could. A train was pulling in the station, and I sprinted onto the nearest car. I plopped myself next to a boy who looked remotely close to my age and oddly familiar. The doors closed as I watched the delusional man get taken down by security.

By the time I got my composure back together, I realized what I had just done. I had broken the Golden Rule on getting separated from your family in a foreign country. I left the area. If I had stayed, there may have been a chance that I could've been relocated. But I left. I left and I can't call them for help because the phone service guy isn't coming until tomorrow, and no one in that family has a cell, and, and, and...!

When I was reaching the point of max panic, I felt something rest on top of my head. I used my peripherals to see it was the boy I sat next to. He was completely passed out, and no amount of moving and shifting was making him get off. So I sat there. It took me a second glance to finally realized who he was.

Dan Howell, internet star, in my mind at least. Many questions were running through my mind, but the biggest being "What the hell is Dan doing on the 9 o'clock train to-" I realized I had no clue where this train was going. I only knew that from the direction it pulled in, we were headed deeper into the city.

I tried reading the multiple signs and posters, but I was blind without my glasses, which were sitting back at Aunt Jen studio. Smooth.

I decided it would probably be best to stick around Dan, since he is A- familiar, B- Nice (or so he seems from his videos), and C- More likely to have an idea of where the hell I need to go to get back. So I sat there, Dan now what I hope was drooling on my head, and attempting to snuggle is own head deeper into mine. Hate to say it, but he gave me some pretty nasty hat hair. But with his head. Head-hat hair? Whatever.

It only took Dan about two more stations before we hit a big bump on the track that slammed his head against mine, and instantaneously woke him up. He grumbled an apology as he rubbed he head, finally waking up.

I tried fixing my hair, which had now entered a state of mild disaster, when he turned and gave me a side glance. His expression completely said "What the *uck is wrong with her hair?"

I felt upset for half a second when I remembered he was my only, and possibly unwilling, lifeline to get back. I smiled, still trying to correct my hair.