Imagines: Celebrity Encounters Starring You

A New Connection - Dan Howell

BY LEIGH ANSELL

Imagine . . . 

Your expectations might've been slightly unrealistic when you first moved to London a few months ago. Imagine that. 

Living in the heart of the capital meant everything was on your doorstep, and you'd kind of assumed that'd be reason enough to be out every night, living the type of wild London lifestyle all those reality shows had promised. You envisioned top floor penthouses, a trendy group of friends, sipping cocktails in bars you couldn't afford. No one thought to mention that the reality of being a freelance writer in the capital would be a little less glitzy. 

Instead of being out partying until 3:00 a.m., your weeknight evenings have lately been taking on a significantly tamer routine, and today is no exception. It's Tuesday, and though you should be working on your article due at the end of the week, your spot on the sofa has never felt comfier. With YouTube open on your laptop, there might be no need to move for hours yet. 

Which is fine. You've got days to finish the article, and watching old Dan Howell videos back-to-back is a perfectly good use of your time. Kind of. 

You're two minutes into one of your favourites, "Internet Support Group," when the sound of knocking cuts across the living room. Closing the laptop, you get to your feet, confused about who'd be visiting at this time. You're not expecting anybody; your best friend's working late, and since all other members of your family refuse to live anywhere within a fifty-mile radius of central London, there's nobody else in the city who would want to see you. 

Pulling open the door, you get the shock of your life. 

There, standing face-to-face with you, is none other than the guy you've spent the last hour watching through a computer screen: your next-door neighbour, Dan Howell. 

It shouldn't have come as a huge surprise. You realized he and Phil lived in the apartment next door two days after you moved in, when you first bumped into each other in the hall. Still, months later, and you've yet to move past the polite-but-awkward greetings that ensue whenever you cross paths. You'd rather die than have him realize you're one of the five million plus avid viewers of his YouTube channel, keeping up with his videos from the other side of your shared wall. 

But, for some reason, he's here, standing in front of you, looking slightly flushed and clutching a laptop in one hand. 

"Hi," you say, because you're not sure what else to do. 

"Hi," he begins, with a slightly odd smile. "I'm Dan, your next-door neighbour. I appreciate this is a really weird way to have a first conversation, but is there any chance you could spare your Wi-Fi connection for half an hour?" 

For a moment, all you manage to do is stare, your mouth hanging slightly open. "Uh . . ." 

"Let me explain. See, I do this thing where I make videos on the internet—" 

But you already know what's coming, and you cut in before he has to get too far into the awkward I-swear-this-is-a-real-job spiel. "Your YouTube channel," you say, with a knowing smile. 

"Don't worry, I've heard of it."

Relief breaks across his expression. "Oh, good. I suppose that makes things a little less weird. See, the thing is, I'm due on a live broadcast right at this minute, and my friend Phil has chosen a really stupid time to start downloading the world's longest compilation of cat videos." 

It's weird, seeing him standing in front of you, when you've spent so long watching him crack similar jokes from behind a screen. Your fifteen-year-old self would probably be passed out on the floor already. All you can do is thank God you've since reined in your fangirl tendencies.