Then, Mum and Dad sell our house.
They invite me over one last time, to see my room and the backyard where I'd play before I started hating the outdoors.
It looks the same on the outside, maybe a little bit more crisp and clean because they painted the windows.
Inside it's like a whole new house. They've taken up all the furniture, and totally redone the kitchen. I don't hate it, but it feels almost creepy. Like they've taken some memory from my childhood and horribly morphed it into a stainless steel nightmare.
At least Mum and Dad are staying in our hometown. I'll still be able to visit and walk the same streets that I did with my friends in school, go to the same restaurants we ate in as a family. It's not like they're going to America, like Phil's parents did.
We eat one last meal in the house before Clara and I help them load what's left of their stuff into their car.
"So how've you been, Mia?" asks Mum, after she's done talking about my nephew's sleep schedule or something.
"Good, yeah. Dan and I went to Greece, I think I told you. That was fun."
Dad laughs, "Aw, you could've said hello to Yia Yia." My grandmother. I haven't seen her in forever, now that I think about it. I guess that's because she lives in Greece, though.
I realize that I'm actually taking the whole moving thing pretty well. A month or two ago I would've been crying right now, but I'm actually able to have a coherent conversation about something that isn't the house. Maybe I'm getting better.
"Maybe we could've. I don't know though, we kept ourselves busy." I blush, realizing what it sounds like I've said. Whoops. I'm not very good at talking, for someone who talks to a camera for a living.
Clara laughs a little, but our parents don't seem to catch onto the little slip up. A glare at Clara through the corner of my eye but nothing more than that.
"Are you going on any trips soon?" I ask Clara, ready to change the subject off of me.
She shrugs, "We were thinking about going to America for a little while. Maybe we could visit when you and Dan go to a convention or something! We wouldn't be with you the whole time, of course, just using you as an excuse."
Honestly I wouldn't mind her coming with us, sometimes when stress is high our hotel room starts to feel like an oven, or a clay pot in art class without a hole poked in to let the air out. Maybe Clara would provide that breath of oxygen for the two of us.
Either way, it'd be fun to have her around. Unlike when we were younger, Clara and I actually get along now. I think I looked past the fact that she did everything better than me and found my own niche, something I was better than her at.
Suddenly, this memory of when I was around fourteen comes up. I used to write emails, I realize, to Dan. I didn't know him back then, of course, but it was my sort of therapy. I think I complained about Clara some, to him.
I keep that in mind as I ride the train back home that night, watching the lights of cities zip by through the window.
I bet I can find those on my phone. Somewhere in my email app, deep in the sent folder. I decide to hold off, though. Maybe I'll tell Dan about it.
- - -
"Heading home!" I text Dan, slinging my backpack over one shoulder and and holding my phone in the other. The station is still bustling, even though it's nearing midnight. I got an Uber as we were getting close, so I'll be home in no time.
"Hello," I say cheerfully, hopping into the car. The driver seems nice enough, smiling at me. Maybe they're about to get off work.
They (I think his name is Michael) cocks his head to the side, "Aren't you on YouTube?" he asks, smiling. I smile even more in return.
"Yeah, Mia Hatzidakis. Nice to meet you, Michael." He puts the car into gear and we start towards home. I post a tweet.
Heading home after visiting my parents for a little while, Uber driver knows my channel ^-^!
Finally I arrive at home, wave goodbye to Michael (who apparently also likes Dan and ships us a little) and unlock the door. Dan seems to have been waiting, and wraps me up in a hug the second I'm through the door.
"Hi!" I say, hugging him back, even tough I'm not a touchy feely person. With Dan it's okay.
"I missed you," he says, pulling back.
"I was only gone a few hours," I scoff, "Are you getting separation anxiety?" he laughs and shakes his head.
I consider telling him about the emails that I sent, but maybe I want to read them first. See what fourteen year old me had to deal with. Would it be weird for Dan to read that? Stuff that I send as a kid? I know that would make me feel like a pedophile.
Whatever. 'YOLO.'
"You know, when I was a lot younger I sent a bunch of emails to you. I think fourteen years old. A bunch of emails, though."
Dan frowns, but looks excited, "Really? Are they still out there?" I blush and nod.
"Yeah, probably. I guess you could check."
I don't think I've ever seen Dan Howell run as fast as when he goes to get the laptop to check his email.
"What was your email address?" he asks, once we're settled in on the couch. I feel like we're about to watch a movie, except this movie is about my cringey teenage years.
"Same as now, actually. Just look it up." He does, and sure enough, at the bottom of all my emails are about two dozen emails, most starting with "Dear Dan." He opens the oldest one.
"watchmiarun@gmail.com
Dear Dan,
You'll probably never read this..."
FIN
