Note: This Story has references to Homosexuality although it will mainly focus on friendship. If you are uncomfortable with viewing such content then I recommend that you do not read. Thanks for taking some of your time! ^^;
Dan P.o.v
Within the 24th upcoming year pf my life my mum decided for me that I had depression. Probably because I never really went outside, talked to anyone and that I spent the majority of my time browsing through the internet to read fanfiction about different ways that I could've died.
Well now I've done it. Death was coming for me, it always was. And I've only come to realise that it was a few years back, when I realised that my lungs weren't working like everyone else's were.
I pushed the wheels forward to make my way towards the Weekly Support group that I was heading towards. I cursed my doctor for recommending this place to my mum, and that now I had to dedicate my time every weeks talking to other people about my cancer issues.
"Make some friends!" My mum yelled from the car.
'Yeah…Like that's gonna happen.' I thought to myself, continuing to make my way towards the centre.
I had a high doubt of making friends here. Especially when I've been living my life as a socially awkward person since around birth. I had a hard enough time trying to talk to the cashier at stores trying to buy something, honestly. A puddle on the floor reflected the contraption that I was sitting in, reminding myself what exactly I wasn't capable of doing right now. It's such a waste of my height to be sitting in a wheelchair. Being 191cm was certainly a gift to some people, and yet it had to be wasted on someone like me; who was probably going to spend the rest of their life sitting and lying down anyway.
I pushed the rough leather on my wheels to move forward, but was immediately jolted back into the seat of my chair.
"Damn." I hissed. "Stuck again."
My wheelchair didn't exactly fulfil the role of 'making my life easier' for me. It always did the job for around a few minutes until getting caught on something again. I never really told my parents about this since it'd be such a waste to spend money on a person who's about to die anyway.
I cranked the palms of my hands on the wheels again, this time moving forward with a lot more ease them usual. At first I was absolutely amazed at myself, feeling like I've just developed super powers in my hands or something in place of my dying lungs.
That is… Until I realised that the wheels were moving on a flat surfaced ground on their own. Was I sitting in some sort of possessed wheelchair or something? I looked back to confirm my suspicions and was proven wrong about the possessed wheelchair thing, but I can't exactly say that I'm disappointed either.
"Thought you needed help." He greeted me with a smile.
Now I was always grateful for anyone who even bothered to help a wheelchair bound person like me, but for someone who actually smiled while doing it; I was extremely grateful. He had the same bleak, depressing emo-like hair that I did, but he suited it; with his matching pale skin and blue eyes, he pretty much was the living version of those emo Myspace guys that I've always wanted to be as a twelve year old.
"Where are you going?" he asked me, making me realise that he was still pushing me somewhere.
"Weekly Support group." I answered, slapping his hands off. "Thanks…But I can make it on my own now."
"Hey wait-!"
In fear of him initiating conversation with me any longer, I just kept pushing my wheels forward as fast as I could until I couldn't hear him anymore. I felt bad, but there was no use getting too attached to a guy like him. Nice guys like him deserve better than to kill time with people like me anyway.
Hearing the inspirational talk and sobbing from outside the door was enough to tell me that I was literally the last to arrive. I just hoped that I wasn't late enough for the guy in charge to call my mother and have her freak out that I was jigging the social group thing or something. I gave a gentle knock with the back of my hand and the door shifted open, reveal a guy in his mid-forties or so and a name tag labelled 'Patrick' on his white shirt.
"I'm assuming that you're Daniel Howell?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes. I am Sir." I answered him straightforwardly.
"Well Welcome in, we've only just started!" He said, gesturing me inside.
I waddled in with my wheelchair, and as I was searching for a place to sit, I saw same pair of blue eyes across the room staring dead straight at me. I couldn't look away; it would've been too obvious that I was avoiding him. His hand gestured to an empty space next to him, somehow the gap between his chair and the next being the perfect size for my wheelchair to fit in.
At first I was going to pretend that I didn't see his hand and find a place to sit somewhere else to avoid a direct conversation with the guy again, but then Patrick had to c***block me and offer me the seat next to him out loud.
Well good Shit Patrick. Why.
A/N: Really hoped you liked that chapter! \^o^/ I would just like to say that this fanfiction was inspired by this video ( watch?v=VBe1vN4iTg8) and that I might continue it only if someones reading it (I cant help but feel like its useless to continue something no one wants to see O~O') Please comment/fav/follow if you liked this chapter so that I know! XD