*4 years later*

*Dan's POV*

It's four years since 'the incident' at my sixteenth now. Four years since my life started going downhill.

It started off with the little things; I'd be worried about the speed of my heart beat, or the size of a mole. However, since then my problem has escalated. And right now, I am convinced that there is a poisonous germ in my car, which will make me ill. There isn't, of course, but I don't know that.

"Mum! I'm not going in the car to the support group! It's only down the road!" I try to convince my mum one morning.

"Yes you are, Dan! There's nothing in the car that can hurt you!" she retaliates.

"What about the poisonous germs!"

"Dan, I don't want to argue! You're going!" she raises her voice a little.

"No I'm not."

"Yes you are."

"No I'm not."

"Daniel, just get in the car!" she shouts at me. Does she seriously still call me 'Daniel' when she's angry? For crying out loud, I'm twenty years old!

"Fine." I say in surrender.

"Thank you, Dan"

"I don't even want to go anyway." I say under my breath as I walk towards the front door. The only reason I didn't put up a bigger fight is that I didn't want to upset my mum. I know how much it means to her for me to get better, but for me, I've sort of given up at this point. If it was up to me, I wouldn't even get out of bed in the mornings.

I stand outside the car waiting, knowing full well that it's unlocked. I just want to spend as little time as possible in that killer machine.

I breathe as little of the air as possible when in the car, and remain like this for the next two minutes until we arrive.

Unfortunately for me, the car park is on the opposite side of the road to the town hall, where the support group is held. I say unfortunately for me, because crossing a busy road is literally my worst nightmare. It is a death trap to me.

After bidding my mum goodbye, I head to the pavement. I walk a minute down the road to the zebra crossing, just to be safe, and press the button. I stand there, waiting for the little green man, flinching every time a car comes close to the pavement. In the one minute of waiting, my hands become clammy. I wipe them on my trousers, and fiddle with my fringe, the way I did on that one night in 2006.

The green man flashes up on the screen, signalling for me to go. I sprint to the other side of the road, not wanting to waste a second. I reach the other side safely, and sigh in relief. One day I could be not so lucky.

I walk to the Town Hall, trying to calm my shaking hands. Recently, I've noticed, my hands have been shaking a lot. Maybe I should get it checked out at the doctors. I could be something serious.

When seated in the chair at the very edge of the semi-circle, furthest away from any people, I finally relax a bit. I am one of the first people there, but after a while, a small group of people file in, and I end up sat next to an extremely scrawny, exhausted-looking man with a black emo fringe concealing half of his face. His hair is like mine, only black, and his fringe goes the opposite way. He stares down at his feet, trying not to make eye-contact with anyone. I feel sorry for him in a way, because looking at his body language, he is nervous as heck.

After a good ten minutes, when everyone has settled down, a man enters with a huge grin on his face.

"Good afternoon, Ladies and Gentlemen!" he says cheerfully. "As you probably know, my name is Dave, and I run this support group! Now, you may, or may not have noticed that we have two new people joining us today." he gestures towards me and the man sitting next to me. Ah, that would explain why he looked so nervous! It's his first time too. "If you'd like to introduce yourself first, Phil?"

The man stands up, still looking at the ground. "Erm. Well, my name is Phil Lester, and I am twenty-four years old…" his northern accent trails off, as if thinking about what to say. "And, erm, I am here because… well, I am suffering with depression." He pauses again, and everyone thinks he's finished. "And I'm anorexic." He adds, taking his seat quickly.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Phil." Dave greets Phil. "Your turn now, Dan." All eyes are on me as I stand up.

"Hi. So, my name is Dan. I am 20 years old." I start. "And, I guess the reason I'm here is because…" How do I put this? "Well, I am dying. I mean I'm not, but I think I am…" I trail off. Great going, Dan. You have an opportunity to make friends, and once again you make a fool of yourself. I decide to bite the bullet and tell them the truth "Okay, I have Health Anxiety Disorder because I did weed once…. just once, but it changed my life forever." I sit down, and feel my cheeks burning. All I had to do was not make a fool of myself. Now it's my turn to stare down at the floor.

"Nice meeting you, Dan. I can only imagine what that's like." Dave seems genuinely sorry for me.

That's when I notice him. The man sat next to me – Phil – looking at me out of the corner of his eye. When he sees me looking, he turns away quickly, and goes back to staring at the floor.

*Phil's POV*

I pull my shoes on and put on a jacket. It's one of the hottest days in the summer, but I have to wear something on my arms to hide the cuts and scars on my arms.

After insuring that the front door is locked, I leave my flat to find my friend Luke waiting in his car, blasting my favourite MCR song 'Teenagers', as he always does.

"Hi, Phil!" he smiles at me.

"Hey, Luke." I reply, forcing a smile. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm… AHMAYZING!" he jokes, trying to cheer me up. I smile at him, making an unnatural giggle come out of my mouth. Despite my favourite son playing and my friend to cheer me up, I can't help but feeling flat, like I do every day.

The rest of the short journey does by in silence and five minutes later, Luke drops me off outside the Town Hall.

"Thanks for the lift!" I call back, as I approach the double doors.

I enter the Hall, and take a seat next to an anxious looking boy, with identical hair to mine, only his is a dark brown colour.

I wait for the Support Group to start, just staring at the floor like I usually do. But as I sit there, I can see in the corner of my eye, the boy with the brown hair glancing at me every minute or so. I am tempted so many times to look back at him and say hi, but I'm just too nervous.

When the thing actually starts it's a relief, until I have to introduce myself. I know there aren't very many people here, but public speaking is the worst. Especially when you're suffering from depression.

I decide to tell the truth, because there's not much point in lying. Tell them that I suffer from depression and anorexia. I don't care what they think anyway.

I had no idea that the boy next to me is new as well, so when he stands up to introduce himself, I listen.

"Hi. So, my name is Dan. I am twenty years old. And, I guess the reason I'm here is because…" his voice fades, and he stops to think. "Well, I am dying. I mean I'm not, but I think I am…. Okay, I have Health Anxiety Disorder because I did weed once…. just once, but it changed my life forever."

I don't know why, but I feel kind of sorry for him. He doesn't seem like the type of person to take drugs.

He sits down quickly and looks down at his feet, fiddling with his fringe. I try to watch him out of the corner of my eye. I don't know why, but all I want to do is stare at the boy next to me. To take on every small detail of his face.

I turn my head back to the ground, my cheeks flushing red as roses when he looks at me. But he doesn't drop his gaze. He just stares at the side of my face.

*Dan's POV*

I know full well that he can see me staring at him, but in that split second that we make eye contact, there was a strange feeling in my stomach. I diagnose it as butterflies, though I don't now why this emo man would give me butterflies in my stomach.

After a minute of him resisting me, he finally gives in. he turns his head and for the first time, I see the full detail of his face.

He has pale skin making the dark bags under his eyes stand out more. His hair is as black as the night, and oh my… those eyes. He has aqua blue eyes, like the ocean or the summer skies. Only his eyes aren't at all as happy as the summer skies. Is wonderful eyes are sad, turning the aqua blue ocean into raging waves, and the summer skies into a miserable thunderstorm.