McFly-slash ... Back in Wonderland
again. sorry for the terrible lack of fic. my plot bunnies are dying one after another it seems. but hey, at least i wrote something long now so that should do for the next weeks/months without stuff from me.
and now. enjoy. (and read slowly :p)
Title: Back in Wonderland
Author: me
Rating: PG-13
Chapter: 1/1 … Standalone
Genre: Angst, Romance, Drama
Pairing: PoynterJudd
Summary: I’m just one drink away and I’m back in Wonderland like it was yesterday.
Word count: 8,377
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my weird brain’s offsprings.
Dedication: ♥ manuanya ♥ because without her this story wouldn’t be existing in the way that it does. And it wouldn’t have an ending either.
Author’s note: Listening to ‘Lies’ (that line up there in the summary) and talking to Manu inspired this story.
He wishes it could be like it was back then. When there was purple hair and that lip ring and few less tattoos. That time when he just came over to him, placed himself halfway across his body, so close that he could feel his heartbeat and hear his breathing. And they would have endless conversations without saying a word. Solace would come through hands playing with odd strands of hair. A look from one pair of blue eyes into another was all the advice that was needed.
But it’s not like that, not anymore. And it hurts.
===
Harry hates this. He hates how far they’ve come. Or well, how far they’ve not come would probably be way more accurate.
It only seems like it had been yesterday. That time when everything had been different. Dougie was only 17 back then (so hm. Maybe it was longer ago than Harry would actually admit). He was looking at a mountain of shards that used to be his first serious relationship. No idea how he got to that point either, he just knew he was there and it just hurt, alright? Everything was fucked up and the world was a cruel place and he just wanted to curl up and die for a bit. But they were on tour, their first big arena tour, sold out venues up and down the country, and curling up or being dead was not an option. So Dougie had turned to that one solid thing that was there. That one solid thing that kept him from breaking down.
Harry couldn’t count the many times Dougie just came to him in the middle of the night. Looking alright to anyone who didn’t bother with a second look, but Harry only needed one blink and he could tell that the young man was as far from feeling good as a patient on his deadbed. So he would open up his arms to the bassist and he would crawl into them and sometimes he sighed numerous times and sometimes he ranted, sometimes obscenities left his lips like they were fired from machines and sometimes, most times, there would be nothing but silence.
Thinking back of it, it does sound a lot like this phase of his life was sad and dark and no fun to be stuck in. But if Harry is completely honest with himself, he will have to admit that this time, back in the day, was probably the only time when he felt like an actual complete human being. Because it was him and Dougie. And not much else.
But then things changed. Some might say they went downhill but Harry wouldn’t say so. He was with a girl who made him happy for a very long time so if it went any hill, it probably went rather up than down.
Izzy was great. She understood his life, had one quite similar. She didn’t get mad when Harry had no time to be on the phone for longer than a few minutes or when he forgot to reply to her e-mail because he had been stuck in an interview-marathon.
But there was this one flaw that she had, she and their whole relationship. She simply wasn’t Dougie.
The thought of being in love with Dougie never occurred to Harry at all. There was something, definitely something, but none of them ever called it love. It was being close and helping each other (though most times it was Harry helping Dougie). And yes, there was intimacy and a whole lot of affection. But it wasn’t love. Or was it?
Right now it isn’t so much love than it is anger. Because Dougie is an infuriating little creature, sometimes. Very often, actually. Recently anyway. Harry doesn’t know when or how it happened, he just knows who happened.
She happened and all of a sudden Dougie was this new guy who spent hours on the phone and drove halfway across the country to carry some shopping bags. He was seen in some paper every other day and he played bass for her band instead of his own. They had a dog and spoke of ‘us’ and ‘we’ and to put the cherry on top of this yucky ice-cream, they moved in with each other. A year in and they already lived together! In other relationships you forget your one-year-anniversary and then grovel with a bunch of roses and a big box of chocolates. But you do not move in with each other.
So ever since Dougie started seeing her, there was no more time for Harry. And he must’ve moved into this happy place with pink clouds and flowery fields because he had no more problems either. At least none that he needed Harry for. There was one tiny little weak moment when Flea had run off and almost got run over and Dougie had been a mess and Harry was there. But that was one fleeting occurrence and as soon as that had passed, it was back to pink clouds and flowery fields.
The thing is just. Harry misses that feeling of being the one Dougie counts on day and night. He misses being that superheroic person in Dougie’s eyes, the one who has all the solutions to all the problems in the world. He misses that he is needed, simple as.
And suddenly this idea keeps popping up in his head. An idea that just won’t go away. And this idea keeps just building itself up in his head and it all sounds just so good and so well-planned out. If he can’t make Dougie need him, how about doing it the other way round? Make him need Dougie. The effect will most likely be the same, won’t it? They’ll grow closer again, they’ll be back to solving each other’s problems. It would be like it was back then.
===
It is close to 3am when Dougie is awoken by the ringing of his phone. With a groan he rolls over in his bed and answers the call without checking the ID first. There are only three people who would call him at this time of the night anyway. Well, four, but said fourth person is lying next to him, sound asleep.
“This better be fucking important.” he croaks into the phone.
“Dougie? I can’t find my key. Can I … can I have yours?” comes a whiny voice from the other end.
“Harry?”
Then there is a giggle. And a hiccup. “Yyyyyyyyyup.”
“Dude, are you drunk?”
“Can’t find my keeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey.”
Dougie sighs, feeling a lot like he’s just talking to his cousin, the five-year-old. “Look in your pocket, Harry. Look. In. Your. Pocket.”
“Which one?”
“All of them.”
“I … s’dark, can’t find my pockets.”
Another exasperated sigh. “Where are you?”
“‘m. S’looks like home?”
“Okay, don’t move. I’ll be right there.”
And then Dougie is out of the door just a few minutes later, driving through barely lit streets, carefully watching that he doesn’t push the speed-limit. Least not too much.
He gets to Harry’s building and already sees him slouched down on the floor in front of the door when he drives up to it. He looks like he is asleep, right there on the doorstep, but he lifts his head (and even from inside the car Dougie can tell that this seems to be a rather difficult thing to do for his band mate right now) when he notices headlights coming closer.
“Dougieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! My saviour, you’re heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeere!” with a loud voice and arms flailing around uncontrollably.
Dougie parks the car, gets out and kneels next to the older male.
“Will you be quiet please? There’s people sleeping, you know. Come on, up you go.”
And with all his strength he brings Harry up to his feet, leans him against the wall and pats the outsides of Harry’s pockets until the feels the housekeys in one of them. Holding his friend in place, he fishes the key out of the drummer’s jeans.
“Yer …” Hiccup. “… yer feelin me up. ‘s feels funnyyyyyyy.”
“Oh you will stop feeling funny soon.” comes the mumbled response, “Now come on, let’s get you inside.”
And for God’s sake, Harry must have consumed his body weight in alcohol because really, he’s never been that heavy to move around. And his feet don’t seem to be part of his body anymore either because Dougie has to practically carry him through the door of his flat and he’s so glad that Harry chose the flat on the ground floor because getting him up a staircase would have needed a crane.
They pass the threshold of the flat and Dougie hits his hand against the wall, successfully finding the light switch on the first go. The bright lightning brings up a groan from Harry and when Dougie gets a whiff of his breath, what he already knows is testified. Harry has more alcohol than blood in his body.
“Bed or bathroom, Harry?”
Harry gives his best attempt to stand up straight. He waits a moment, paying attention to the signals his body give him.
“Bed. ‘m tired.”
“Okay, come on then.”
And he drags Harry to that big bed of his and just dumps him right there. And while he proceeds to take off Harry’s shoes and re-arrange that lumpy form on the bed, the drummer speaks up.
“Stay here?”
Dougie looks up. “What?”
The answer comes, but it’s in some half-asleep voice. “Jus’ stay, alrigh? Just like Wonderland.” And the words have barely left Harry’s mouth and he’s already asleep, softly snoring.
Dougie looks puzzled for a second, not understanding what Harry meant by ‘Wonderland’. He decides it’s probably some happy place inside Harry’s head where rivers are made of vodka, people play cricket 24/7 and everything is one massive Woodstock-festival. So he sighs, looking down at Harry’s sleeping form. He’s dead to the world, probably won’t remember a thing once he wakes up tomorrow (with a headache the size of a small country, no doubt).
And Dougie takes a look at the time. It’s almost 4am now and really, is there a point in going home? Not so much, he figures. He reaches into his own pocket and damn, his phone is on the nightstand. That is the nightstand in his own home, next to his own bed. And he has no idea where Harry’s phone even is and calling his landline would be a bad idea, it would only wake up the dogs and make them all antsy. So he just sighs again, gets out of his shoes, drops his hoodie to the floor and crawls into bed, right next to Harry.
===
Harry wakes up the next morning and. Erm. Whose idea was the alcohol-part again? He wants to swallow down that weird taste in his mouth but can’t for some reason. So water, yes, he needs water. Can’t open his eyes though because for one, that is way too exhausting and it’s probably daylight already and just thinking about daylight makes his head hurt even more than it already does. But where is that damn waterbottle?
He finally gets hold of the plastic object on the floor by his bed and takes a swig from it without moving too much. However, the thought that he will have to open his eyes at some point settles in his hungover brain so he figures he might as well get it over and done with now. He slowly cracks one eye open, not knowing what causes more pain inside his head. The movement or the daylight.
“Urgh, fuck!” he mutters out.
And then he suddenly hears a giggle from his side. His other side. “Yeah. Morning to you too, sunshine.” And the voice. Isn’t that?
With the last bits of strength Harry has, he turns his head to the other side, towards the voice and he’s definitely surprised to find Dougie sitting in his bed, back leaning against the headboard, a mug in his hand.
“Hey.” Harry mutters, pausing for a moment, “What are you doing here?”
Dougie smiles. “Well, who do you think got your drunken figure into bed last night? You called at some ungodly hour, were too fucking drunk to find the keys in your pocket. Called me to your rescue.”
“I did?”
“Oh yes. Kept shouting on top of your lungs when I got here, called me your saviour. You were quite a sight. Still are, if I may say so.” A smug grin. “How’re you feeling?”
“Like I chewed on an old carpet before I got run over by a bus.”
“Charming. Here, take those.”
And he hands over two pills, waits until they’re in Harry’s mouth and then hands him the mug with tea in it. Harry swallows the pills down, both in one go, before he dumps his head back on his pillow.
“I feel disgusting.”
“And, no offence, you are. So …” Dougie pauses, not quite sure to address this in the right way. But then again, is there ever a right way? “What happened?”
“What happened when?”
“What happened before you decided to drink up enough alcohol to match up to the Thames?”
“I was just. Drinking.”
“Obviously. But why?”
Dougie doesn’t want to pry but really, he needs to know. Because it isn’t like Harry to go and get drunk just because. There is always some sort of reason behind it, either something good or something bad. But always something.
“Do we have to get into this now?”
“Yes, we bloody well have to. You called me out of bed at three in the fucking morning and I’d at least like to know why.”
“I …”
And the words are stuck in Harry’s throat. He can’t just tell Dougie that he wants him back in his life, that he really does miss and need their messed up co-dependent relationship. Because really, it isn’t in his place to say that, and it isn’t the right time either.
“I just got drunk, alright? God, Danny does it all the time, haven’t seen anybody give him a hard time for it.”
“That’s because Danny’s Danny. You don’t do things like that, Harry.”
“Well, apparently I do.”
And he really doesn’t want to have this conversation. Not now (especially not now) and not ever, actually. So, no matter how much his body aches and no matter how exhausting every movement is, he really needs to leave this bed, this room, now. So he uses every tiny bit of strength left somewhere in his body and drags himself out of bed, staggering towards the bathroom and only moments later Dougie hears the shower running.
Harry spends longer in the shower than he normally would. But he really just doesn’t want to face Dougie. Kind of ridiculous, come to think of it. It’s not like Dougie is his mother and he’s fearing to be grounded or anything. But he knows Dougie wants answers and he can be persistent if he wants to be. And it’s these burning questions and the answers (his own answers) that Harry fears.
When Harry walks back into his bedroom, Dougie isn’t there anymore. And that almost makes him happy but only almost because he knows, he just knows, that Dougie didn’t go home. Not just yet. So he dresses slowly and then makes his way into his kitchen and surely enough. There is Dougie. Sitting by the table, typing away on Harry’s laptop.
“Made you food.” He doesn’t look up, just nods his head in the general direction of the kitchen counter.
The silent treatment is definitely a mother-trick. Saying nothing for a while, making the other person feel all safe and as soon as they do, bring on the questions and the guilt-trip. But Harry isn’t one to be played like that.
“Come on, I know you wanna ask. Ask then.” Because procrastination isn’t going to get him anywhere anyway. Let’s attack this. Head on.
Now Dougie actually looks up from the laptop, obviously being caught off guard by Harry being so straightforward. He expected this conversation to at least be some sort of a challenge.
“You know what I wanna ask. I asked already. How about you finally answer?” And back to the laptop.
That is definitely something Harry neither expected nor knows how to deal with. Dougie didn’t pretend to be annoyed and defensive, he actually really was.
“Why are you so pissed off? Jesus, I was just out and had a little too many. End of story.”
And then Dougie looks up, the anger of his voice now also visible in his eyes. He presses a button and then forcefully slams the laptop shut, not in the mood to care whether it’s Harry’s or his or if he broke it or not. He is just angry and the fact that Harry is so fucking oblivious doesn’t make the whole thing better.
“I am pissed off because you called me out of bed at three in the morning because you were so off your head that you couldn’t find a fucking keyring in the pocket of your jeans. And I am pissed off because I came here and brought you to bed and looked after you and made you your stupid breakfast and I didn’t even hear a single word of appreciation, no sign of a bloody ‘Thanks’. And I am pissed off because when I ask you what’s going on, when I wanna help you with whatever problem you have, you don’t even give me an answer but leave the room. That’s why I’m pissed off, Harry.”
“Fine. So next time I’m gonna call Tom then. Problem solved.”
“That’s not what I mean. I don’t mind helping you or anything. You know I don’t. But I at least like to know which kind of problem I’m dealing with. Which kind of problem you’re dealing with.”
“There is no fucking problem, Dougie. And if there was, who says that I you’re the one I wanna talk about it with? Not like you’re Mister Know-All.”
And those last words definitely come out way too harsh. So harsh in fact that they bring a look of shock on Dougie’s face. And his face contorts into something Harry can’t identify and his eyebrows twitch and then he just shakes his head.
“You know what? Next time? Call Tom. Cos I’m not gonna pick up the phone. I mean, I wouldn’t even know how to, right?”
And he leaves. He’s not saying another word, he’s not looking back. He’s not doing anything. He just leaves. He doesn’t even slam the door. It makes Harry realise that he’s just fucked up. Majorly.
===
It’s already afternoon when Dougie finally gets home. After leaving Harry’s he couldn’t go back to normality, didn’t have it in him to face anyone, needed to be with his thoughts for a while. It didn’t help really. He is still upset and he still can’t make sense of all that had happened in the morning.
He opens the door and Flea is there before he’s even fully inside, wagging his tail and yapping in excitement. And only seconds later she’s there too, leaning in the doorway to the living room.
“There you are.”
He nods, lips pressed tightly together.
“Where you been?”
“Harry’s.”
“For breakfast or …”
“He got drunk last night. Went over around three or so. Didn’t wanna wake you.”
“Not that you could’ve. Not without that.”
And she hands him his phone. He only takes a short look at it. No messages. No missed calls.
There is no ‘Thank you’ or ‘Sorry’ and he doesn’t lean over to give her a kiss on the cheek either. He pats Flea on the head, only once though, before heading straight for the bedroom, closing the door behind him. Isolation, he still needs it, apparently.
===
And Harry is in his own flat and he curses himself. He didn’t finish Dougie’s breakfast, he didn’t do anything but sit and stare into nothingness.
His plan backfired, totally. Instead of bringing Dougie closer to himself, he pushed him further away than he’s ever been.
Without thinking (because really, thinking got him into this mess in the first place) he reaches for his phone and dials a number.
“Danny? Hey, you and Ant up to anything tonight? … Wanna go out then? … Yeah, ‘s fine too. I’ll bring drinks. … See you later.”
As soon as he hangs up he realises that what he just agreed on is probably gonna land him in deep but he really doesn’t want to care for a while and it’s not like he isn’t in deep already.
===
Dougie has been sitting in his bedroom for the past two hours, staring at the exact same spot of the wall, trying to piece together exactly what happened at Harry’s. It just doesn’t make sense in his head. Not at all. Harry and him can talk about anything and everything and when a problem appears, they talk it out first, analyse it from all angles. And if they can’t solve it together, then they talk it out with Tom and Danny. Most times, talking to Tom and Danny hadn’t been necessary. Because yeah. They solve each other’s problems, nobody else needed.
And now Harry didn’t want to talk to him and he basically called him stupid. And he had said it with such spite that there was no doubt in the matter. Harry didn’t want Dougie around, didn’t want him to talk to, didn’t want him to help.
There’s a soft knock on the door. He raises his head just in time for the door opening. She sticks her head in.
“You okay?”
He shakes his head. “No. Not really.”
She comes in, takes a seat on the bed. She sits by his feet, doesn’t touch him though. She’s looking for his eyes.
“This about Harry and last night?”
“Yeah. Kinda.”
“Wanna talk about it?”
And he shakes his head again.
“Dougie …”
“Look, I don’t want to talk about it. And I can’t talk about it. Not with you.”
“But. I thought we talk about everything.”
“Are we really?”
“Well, I talk about everything with you.”
“No, you don’t. When you don’t get me on something, you run to Gi or Tom. When you have girl-problems, you call one of the girls.”
“Don’t make this about me when it’s you who has the issues, Doug.”
“Oh, so now I have issues?”
“Obviously.”
“I don’t have fucking issues, alright? I have a shitty day because I’ve had a fight with Harry.”
“So tell me about it. I’m sure it’s not that bad once you get it off your chest.”
“You really don’t get it, do you?”
“No. Frankly, I don’t.”
“Have you ever, ever, heard me talk to you about Harry and me?”
She thinks for a moment, then realises. “I haven’t, no.”
“And he’s never heard me talk about me and you, either.”
“So what does that mean?”
“That you and me happen on another level than Harry and me. Harry and I have always been on another level, ever since we knew each other. No one apart from him and me will ever be able to fully understand him and me. Hell, sometimes we don’t even understand us ourselves.”
“So you’re saying that I won’t be able to understand a stupid little fight between the two of you?”
“That’s my fucking point! If you only understood a tiny bit of what Harry and I are, you wouldn’t even dare to speak about it as ‘a stupid little fight’.” His voice has gone louder. He takes a breath, calms himself.
She takes a deep breath too. “You know, I don’t think I should be here.”
“I think you shouldn’t be either.”
“You don’t understand, Doug. When I say I shouldn’t be here, I mean that I probably shouldn’t be in your life right now. Not until you know who you are and who you belong to. And to be honest, I think you know who you belong to. And it’s not me. It’s never been.”
And Dougie is silent. Doesn’t say anything because yeah, he knows she’s right. He hasn’t been fair to her from the beginning on. A part of him was always with Harry in one way or another. And as long as that part of him can’t let go, it isn’t fair to be with just anyone.
“Sorry.” And he means it too.
“Yeah. So am I.”
She isn’t mad, she has probably seen this coming too. Maybe saw it the whole time, just chose to do the same thing as him. Ignore it.
She stands from the bed. “I hope you guys will work this out. I really do.”
“Thanks.”
And she leans forward and presses a gentle kiss on his forehead. She smiles at him one last time, a genuine smile, before she turns and leaves the room. And just a minute later Dougie hears as the front door closes with a silent click. And then he’s back to staring at the wall.
===
It’s not even seven in the evening when Harry rings the doorbell at Danny’s place. He’s early but it’s not like it matters. They’re not going to go anywhere and since when can you not get to your friend’s place early on a football-night?
Ant opens the door, ushers him inside, tells him that Danny isn’t in yet, off to buy some food. They have the first beer while they wait.
When Danny finally arrives, he brought pizza and more beer and some vodka because, “How long’s that beer gonna last us anyway?” and they drink more, get louder with each passing minute. Maybe it’s because of the football, maybe it’s not. For Harry it’s most certainly not. He isn’t even completely sure who’s playing.
It’s way past midnight and all of a sudden the mood seems to change, takes a drastic turn from good to bad. The football’s long over and they settled on some music channel some hour ago. Ant is already passed out on the sofa and Danny is definitely closer to sleep than to being awake. Harry asks for another drink though.
“Nah, sorry mate. Guess we drank it all.”
“What? No, that can’t be. I’m not even feeling anything.”
And he stands up, wants to go to the kitchen to look for himself, thinks in his disillusioned state that Danny wants to keep all the booze for himself and Ant. And he swaggers and all of a sudden the room is turning upside down and the kitchen doorway is so fucking tiny.
“OW! Fuck!”
One of Danny’s barstools lands on the tilted kitchen floor with a loud smash. It makes Ant wake up and Bruce is barking loudly at the unexpected noise.
Danny is by Harry’s side, kneeling down next to him and Harry can’t even recall falling over. “You okay there, mate? Here, let me help you up.”
Harry sees Danny holding his hand out to him, a look of worry on his face because Harry fell pretty hard, chances are he hit himself on the barstool or the doorway. But Harry isn’t hurt, at least not in a way that Danny could make better. And how can Danny not know, seriously?
“Get off me!” he snarls, batting Danny’s hand away, “I don’t need your fucking help, alright?”
And he tries to stand up but the room is still turning so he sits down there on the floor, leaning against the wall. He looks at his hands and he could really use a smoke right now but for the life of him, he can’t remember where he put his cigarettes. Dougie, he would know. Dougie knows those things. When Harry can’t find his phone, Dougie tells him it’s in the inside pocket of his jacket so it won’t get stolen. The car keys are in the left pocket of his trousers, house keys in the right. Dougie knows all that because he knows Harry. But now he’s not here and Harry can’t find his cigarettes and he fucked this all up and that’s why Dougie is not here to help him find them.
“Where are they, where the fuck are they?” he mutters.
“Where’s what, Harry?”
“I … he … help me find ‘em. I need ‘im to help me, he always knows where they are. Why’s he not here?”
Danny looks at Ant, hoping that maybe his room mate knows what and who Harry is referring to. Ant just shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders. At the moment Harry is making as much sense to him as mathematic formulas and the alcohol fogging his brain is definitely no help.
“I need ‘im. It needs to be like Wonderland.” And he keeps mumbling and repeating himself about finding them and needing him and his voice gets whiny and he might be breaking out in tears every second.
And Danny still doesn’t understand and he has no idea what to do to make Harry calm down and get him into bed. But he knows that there is someone who understands and who can calm him down.
===
Throughout the day Dougie had barely moved, and if so only to lie down on his bed.
The day was just too intense to comprehend. Just 24 hours ago he had been in a great relationship with the girl he fancied for years and he had the most awesome person in the universe as a best friend. And now he had neither of the two and everything just happened in such a high speed that it seemed like he went from all to nothing in under a minute.
In a moment like that he would normally call Harry and the two would talk and figure it all out in the end. Harry would assure him that he wasn’t worth of a girlfriend who clearly couldn’t understand the importance of the friendships that were lying under the surface of the band. Harry would offer a warm smile and a hug and sooner than one could blink, the world would be fine again.
But what now? Who could Dougie turn to after losing Harry? No one understood him like Harry did and no one could help him like Harry did. No one could ever be able to be a substitute for Harry, let alone replace him completely.
Dougie wants to sleep, he really does. Maybe, once he wakes up, this will all turn out to be one really bad dream. He will wake up and see her lying next to him. He will get up, go to the kitchen and Harry will be there, making him eggs for breakfast.
But then the phone rings and Dougie really thinks about not answering it. He’s been through enough today really. He can’t handle another thing. But the ringing doesn’t stop and something tells him that this must be something important.
For the first time since the afternoon he leaves the bedroom. His flat is cold and dark and empty and it seems like the persistent ringing of the phone is the only sound that’s currently heard all over the world.
He checks the caller ID this time. It’s Danny.
“Hey Dan.”
“Dougs, mate, I need you over here.” And he sounds desperate and alert and in panic.
“What’s the matter?” And now Dougie is alert and in panic too.
“Harry. It’s Harry. I don’t know what to do. I think he’s having a nervous breakdown or something. And me and Ant, we’re drunk, we all are. But Harry, he’s not making sense. I wanna get him into bed or in the shower or just somewhere but he won’t even let me touch him and please Dougie, you need to come here. Now.”
Dougie really wants to say no. Because he can’t face up to Harry. Not when he’s feeling like he’s feeling and not if Harry’s acting like Danny says he’s acting.
“Does Harry want me there?”
“Dougs, I don’t know what Harry wants. He keeps mumbling about needing help finding something, says that he needs someone and that he wants to go to Wonderland.”
And then Dougie remembers last night.
“Stay here?”
“What?”
“Jus’ stay, alrigh? Just like Wonderland.”
There’s pieces that suddenly start to come together, they form a picture. An old picture. Dougie still doesn’t see the whole thing but the fragment he can see, that’s enough. For now.
“Try make him drink water. Tell him it’s vodka, he won’t know the difference. Make him believe he’s still drinking, that should distract him. Just don’t give him coffee, it’ll make him sick faster than you know. I’ll be there in a few.”
And this time Dougie runs out of his flat and he speeds down the streets, ignoring any signs or red lights. He’s at Danny’s door in record speed.
Ant is letting out a relieved sigh when he opens the door and he’s almost about to just give Dougie a hug for finally being there, for bringing an end to this and putting them all out of their misery.
“Sorry Doug. I had no idea it would end like this. We never would’ve let him drink this much if we had known.”
Dougie pats him on the shoulder. “Not your fault, you just caught him at a bad time. Where is he?”
The question answers itself because right then Dougie hears a whimper, a hiccup and a few choked up words he can’t understand. He knows they can only come from one person. He rushes past Ant and follows the noise and then he sees it.
Harry is sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall, legs spread out in front of him, clutching a vodka bottle in his shaking hand. He takes a swig every now and then and mumbles to himself.
“Oh dear.” So yes, it actually is as bad as Danny said it was.
Danny looks up when he hears Dougie’s voice and you can see the weight that is falling off his shoulders now, that he’s glad that Dougie is finally here.
Dougie kneels down between Harry’s legs, runs his hand over his knee to get his attention.
“Harry. Hey, Harry.”
And Harry looks up with puffy eyes and his face expression resembles a smile when he realises it’s Dougie in front of him.
“Dougie! You’re heeeeeeeeeere!”
“Yes Harry, I’m here. Danny told me you’re looking for something?”
“‘m fags. Can’ find ‘em.”
“They’re in your car, Harry. You keep them there to smoke less, remember?” he says in a calm and soothing voice. It seems to help, Harry’s weeping is dying down. “Now, how does sleep sound to you?”
“You … you stayin? Like Wonderland?”
And Dougie nods, placing his hand on the back of Harry’s neck, making him look into his eyes when he answers. “Just like Wonderland, Harry.”
That seems to do the job as Harry puts the bottle down and makes an attempt to stand up. Dougie helps him, hooks the drummer’s arm around his neck, supporting him.
“Guys, can we … he really needs a proper bed.” He looks at Danny and Ant who are both standing at a safe distance, neither daring to say a word to not put Harry out of this comfort zone he’s found himself in.
“Take my room. I’ll sleep on the sofa.” Ant offers and he just rushes into the room to get some fresh clothes for the next morning.
“Thanks. Night guys, see you tomorrow.”
And Harry also yells “G’night fellas. Cheers for the evening!” before Dougie manoeuvres him through the door of Ant’s bedroom.
Once they’re in the room, all the noise seems to have to died down. They can’t hear Danny and Ant shuffling about in the living room, cleaning up the mess they all made, trying to also clean away the memories of the past few hours. And Dougie just takes a breath, trying to calm himself down for a change but he feels Harry’s weight dragging him down so he guides him over to the bed and makes him sit down.
“‘m sorry, Dougie. Sososo sorry.”
“It’s fine, Harry. No worries.”
“No. ‘m need to apologise now before I forget t’morrow.”
“I’ll remind you of it.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. And now come on, it’s sleep-time.”
“You really stay?”
“Of course. Wouldn’t be Wonderland if it wasn’t the two of us, would it?”
And Harry nods, his eyes almost falling close. He’s tired, so very tired. But he’s scared to fall asleep. What if he wakes up in the morning and Dougie isn’t there? So he holds onto him, really tight too, not intending to let go, ever. He feels Dougie’s heartbeat, can hear his breathing and this may as well just be the best place he’s ever been to.
Dougie runs his hand through Harry’s hair, much like the elder did it to him. Back in the day. He knows about the calming effect this simple gesture has held for so many years now. And it helps too. Harry’s breathing is evening out and when Dougie casts a look he sees that Harry is asleep. Finally.
So he moves him, carefully, afraid to maybe disturb him in his sleep, and lays him down on the bed, covers him with the blanket and just watches. Wherever Harry is right now, he’s obviously found his peace there and Dougie’s glad. Glad that apparently it’s him who can bring that peace to Harry.
He sits there and just watches for quite some time before tiredness seems to catch up to him as well. This whole day has been filled with so much everything that Dougie didn’t even have time to notice that he didn’t eat or sleep for almost 24 hours. So he just toes his shoes off and lays down, right there next to Harry, and sooner than he knows he’s fallen into a deep sleep as well.
===
They don’t know what the time is when they wake up but they both know it’s definitely too early for anybody to use a lawnmower so close to their window.
Dougie wakes up first, cursing the loud noise coming from outside and waking him from the first deep sleep he had in ages. And only seconds after his eyes are open he hears a muffled voice from next to him.
“Oh bloody fucking hell!”
Dougie rolls over and there he is. Harry, with his head buried under the pillow, mumbling out obscenities. He moves to lay on his stomach and just looks and listens. Harry can be a challenge in the mornings but if a hungover Harry gets woken up before the early afternoon, you may as well write your last wish. And that’s another thing that Dougie just knows about the drummer and the fact that he knows it currently just makes him incredible happy. And so, he laughs.
At first Harry is confused because yes, he again can’t remember how he got into bed and from what he knows, there shouldn’t be someone laughing next to him either. And if his hungover brain is getting the connections right, the laughing person shouldn’t even be who he thinks it is because. Yeah. He screwed that up.
He has to make sure though. So he lifts the pillow and casts a look. And yes, Dougie is laughing. In bed. Next to him. And this doesn’t make sense. And whose freaking bed is this anyway?
“Should I even bother to ask?” he croaks because whatever, Dougie will understand him no matter what.
“Ant’s bed.” Dougie just says, getting back to being serious about this. Being happy, that might come later. At some point.
“The fuck happened?”
“You gave poor Danny and Ant the scare of a lifetime last night. Danny called me at some time past midnight. He thought you had a nervous breakdown, for fuck’s sake.”
And yes, this comes out sharp but that’s the way it needs to be right now.
“What the hell is going on with you, Harry? Do you wanna go on like that until I get a call from a fucking hospital because you actually managed to get alcohol poisoning? And if you only think about giving me that ‘nothing’s going on’ crap I will throw you out of the window and let the lawnmower have its wicked way with you! Besides, I know that it’s not true. I know that there is something going on.”
Harry dumps his head back on the pillow. He really is in no state to have this conversation. Not again and not right now. But he knows how Dougie gets when he’s mad so he knows that yes, Dougie actually will throw him in front of the lawnmower.
“How do you know what?” Attacking this. Head on. Clearly, the only way to go.
“You said it yourself.”
And this makes Harry’s brain stop for a second before it’s picking up its work again, in overtime now. What did he tell Dougie? Or did he say something to Danny or Ant and they said something to Dougie? Did he put something on the internet, did he leave a message on Dougie’s voicemail?
“I can’t … I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Because really. Harry hasn’t got the slightest clue.
“Does ‘Wonderland’ mean anything to you?”
That really makes Harry’s brain stop. And his heart too and he’s sure, everything else came to a stillstand as well.
“At first I didn’t get it, you know.” Dougie starts, “The day before yesterday, when you called me. You asked me to stay over when I put you into bed, said ‘Just like Wonderland’. I had no idea what you meant, thought Tom had just overdosed you on Disney-films. But yesterday you kept telling Danny time and time again that it needs to be like Wonderland. I still don’t get it completely but I have an idea what you were talking about.”
Harry just raises his eyebrows, physically unable to do anything else, especially speaking.
“Maybe you didn’t mean a Wonderland. Maybe you meant our Wonderland. Not the album but. Everything that was going on during that time. Back then.”
Harry still can’t say anything. He just sighs. He’s defeated and he knows it. And from the look on Dougie’s face, from the way the young man nods his head, he can tell that the bassist knows as well.
“I just. The alcohol, that’s where you lose me. Dou you have to be drunk to remember or …?”
And finally. Harry speaks. “I made myself need you.”
“What?” Dougie really doesn’t understand. At all.
“Back then, it was you who needed me. You got dumped and you felt so down most of the time. And I was picking you up and put you back together. You needed me to do that because you couldn’t do it yourself. But these days you’re so. There’s nothing that breaks you and there’s no need for me to pick you up and put you back together. You don’t need me anymore so I figured …”
“You make yourself the weak one and let me do the job.” Dougie finishes.
Harry nods.
“But. Why? Why does it have to be like that? Why is there a need for being weak and needing to be put back together?”
“Because … because it brings us closer together. Ever since … her. She’s there so you don’t need me anymore. She’s there to pick you up when you’re down and she makes you feel better. Not me.”
And now Dougie finally understands. Harry thought he had lost him. To her. And by drinking himself close to a coma he was clinging to a very thin straw that represented their relationship. His drinking was a crying out for Dougie to not leave him alone in this life.
To make things worse, Dougie now sees it too. He can see what he did to Harry. He was too occupied, was so focussed on making his relationship with her work that he forgot that there were other things that needed work as well. And just as much work, too. If not more.
He hangs his head in shame. Can’t believe that this wasn’t what Harry did to himself. He did this. He did this to Harry.
“I’m so sorry, Harry.”
And now Harry is surprised because this was his own stupid idea. Dougie shouldn’t even feel the need to apologise. Finally Harry shakes off the blanket and sits up in bed, cupping Dougie’s chin. Makes him look up. Into his eyes.
“No, Dougie. No. There’s nothing you have to be sorry for. This is not your fault! I should be sorry. And believe me, I am. I am so sorry. I was stupid and needy and had absolutely no right to scare you and Danny and Ant like this. I was being a selfish bastard who couldn’t handle his best friend having a girlfriend.”
“You don’t have to handle that anymore.” Dougie mumbles and realises that Harry doesn’t even know yet.
“But I want to, Dougie. I’m your best friend, you shouldn’t keep things like that from me just because you think I can’t take it. Yes, it will suck for a while but I promise you, I will adjust.”
“No Harry, that’s not. It’s not what I meant. I meant that you don’t have to handle that anymore because there’s no girlfriend anymore.”
Harry is properly stunned now. When did that even happen? Last time he checked, Dougie was still in a good-working relationship with the girl he had wanted to date for a few years.
“But. When? How?” His brain has problems processing. Clearly.
“Yesterday. She didn’t get that there are things, people, in my life that have nothing to do with her.” He looks at Harry when he says ‘people’. “She just. She didn’t get it.” He shakes his head. “And then she left and I didn’t even try to stop her.”
And Harry wants to say something. He wants to tell Dougie that he needs to call her, now. And he wants to tell him that he better go get some flowers and chocolate and go over to her and grovel and plead for her to take him back. But he doesn’t get to say anything because Dougie just goes on talking.
“I didn’t stop her because I didn’t actually want to. I mean yeah, she’s great and the whole thing. It was good while it lasted but. The relationship wasn’t going to work in the long run. Because I wasn’t willing to fully commit. I couldn’t fully commit. Not when there’s something else, someone else” and he looks at Harry again, “who I put in front of her. I shouldn’t be with her if she cares more about me than I care about her.”
“But …”
And Dougie shakes his head, interrupts him. “There is no ‘but’, Harry. I didn’t love her and that’s it. Or. Maybe I did love her on some level. But it wasn’t anything like this.” He waves his finger back and forth, between himself and Harry. “You’re the one I talk to about everything and I’m the one you talk to about everything. And we surely had our fair share of ups and downs in the past but I mean. We’ve really done everything to screw up whatever is going on between us but we still always get back into it. We always end up with each other again because we can’t stay away from each other. And I really don’t want us to stay away from each other because that’s simply not the way it’s supposed to be. And this is not about you needing me or me needing you. This is about us needing each other. And maybe I’m pushing things too far here but I really am fed up with this, this whole ‘is it or is it not’-thing. It is, okay? It is and we are.”
And again, Harry can’t say anything. Doesn’t know what to say or if there even is anything to say. Because yeah, Dougie just said it all. He hit the nail on the head.
However, Dougie seems to misunderstand Harry’s lack of words. “Okay. I guess I was just seeing things.”
And now Harry jumps into action again. “No! No, you didn’t. I just. I’m quite speechless.”
“Good speechless or bad speechless?”
“Good. Definitely good.”
And Dougie smiles. Weakly, but it’s there. “So can we. Can we just finish up with this? Cos. I’m tired, Harry. I’m so fucking tired of the whole back and forth and I’m sick and tired of girlfriends that don’t mean anything. I just want to be with you.”
He hopes that Harry understands. Even though it’s early and he’s hungover. But he needs Harry to understand, to remember that he knows Dougie better than Dougie knows himself. Because Dougie can’t talk and think no more. And he doesn’t want to talk and think anymore either. He just wants to let go and fall. And he wants to be caught by Harry. No one else.
And yeah, Harry does understand. He can tell that Dougie is tired and exhausted and that he’s sick of talking and explaining, thinking and dealing. There’s this heavy burden that’s making him crumble more with each second. And he’s only moments away from breaking down from the pressure this whole thing has put on him.
Harry won’t let it come this far. He just grabs Dougie and wraps his arms around him. He holds him tightly to his chest, makes him feel his heartbeat and hear his breathing. He’s telling him a million things without saying a word. His eyes let him know that everything, they, will be alright at some point and the recent events will be nothing but a shadow in the background of some sour memories. He runs his hand through the young man’s hair and brings him to let lose. He lets him fall and catches him at the same time.
“I am with you, Dougie. You’re with me and I’m with you.”
It’s just like Wonderland.
The End
and now. enjoy. (and read slowly :p)
Title: Back in Wonderland
Author: me
Rating: PG-13
Chapter: 1/1 … Standalone
Genre: Angst, Romance, Drama
Pairing: PoynterJudd
Summary: I’m just one drink away and I’m back in Wonderland like it was yesterday.
Word count: 8,377
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my weird brain’s offsprings.
Dedication: ♥ manuanya ♥ because without her this story wouldn’t be existing in the way that it does. And it wouldn’t have an ending either.
Author’s note: Listening to ‘Lies’ (that line up there in the summary) and talking to Manu inspired this story.
He wishes it could be like it was back then. When there was purple hair and that lip ring and few less tattoos. That time when he just came over to him, placed himself halfway across his body, so close that he could feel his heartbeat and hear his breathing. And they would have endless conversations without saying a word. Solace would come through hands playing with odd strands of hair. A look from one pair of blue eyes into another was all the advice that was needed.
But it’s not like that, not anymore. And it hurts.
===
Harry hates this. He hates how far they’ve come. Or well, how far they’ve not come would probably be way more accurate.
It only seems like it had been yesterday. That time when everything had been different. Dougie was only 17 back then (so hm. Maybe it was longer ago than Harry would actually admit). He was looking at a mountain of shards that used to be his first serious relationship. No idea how he got to that point either, he just knew he was there and it just hurt, alright? Everything was fucked up and the world was a cruel place and he just wanted to curl up and die for a bit. But they were on tour, their first big arena tour, sold out venues up and down the country, and curling up or being dead was not an option. So Dougie had turned to that one solid thing that was there. That one solid thing that kept him from breaking down.
Harry couldn’t count the many times Dougie just came to him in the middle of the night. Looking alright to anyone who didn’t bother with a second look, but Harry only needed one blink and he could tell that the young man was as far from feeling good as a patient on his deadbed. So he would open up his arms to the bassist and he would crawl into them and sometimes he sighed numerous times and sometimes he ranted, sometimes obscenities left his lips like they were fired from machines and sometimes, most times, there would be nothing but silence.
Thinking back of it, it does sound a lot like this phase of his life was sad and dark and no fun to be stuck in. But if Harry is completely honest with himself, he will have to admit that this time, back in the day, was probably the only time when he felt like an actual complete human being. Because it was him and Dougie. And not much else.
But then things changed. Some might say they went downhill but Harry wouldn’t say so. He was with a girl who made him happy for a very long time so if it went any hill, it probably went rather up than down.
Izzy was great. She understood his life, had one quite similar. She didn’t get mad when Harry had no time to be on the phone for longer than a few minutes or when he forgot to reply to her e-mail because he had been stuck in an interview-marathon.
But there was this one flaw that she had, she and their whole relationship. She simply wasn’t Dougie.
The thought of being in love with Dougie never occurred to Harry at all. There was something, definitely something, but none of them ever called it love. It was being close and helping each other (though most times it was Harry helping Dougie). And yes, there was intimacy and a whole lot of affection. But it wasn’t love. Or was it?
Right now it isn’t so much love than it is anger. Because Dougie is an infuriating little creature, sometimes. Very often, actually. Recently anyway. Harry doesn’t know when or how it happened, he just knows who happened.
She happened and all of a sudden Dougie was this new guy who spent hours on the phone and drove halfway across the country to carry some shopping bags. He was seen in some paper every other day and he played bass for her band instead of his own. They had a dog and spoke of ‘us’ and ‘we’ and to put the cherry on top of this yucky ice-cream, they moved in with each other. A year in and they already lived together! In other relationships you forget your one-year-anniversary and then grovel with a bunch of roses and a big box of chocolates. But you do not move in with each other.
So ever since Dougie started seeing her, there was no more time for Harry. And he must’ve moved into this happy place with pink clouds and flowery fields because he had no more problems either. At least none that he needed Harry for. There was one tiny little weak moment when Flea had run off and almost got run over and Dougie had been a mess and Harry was there. But that was one fleeting occurrence and as soon as that had passed, it was back to pink clouds and flowery fields.
The thing is just. Harry misses that feeling of being the one Dougie counts on day and night. He misses being that superheroic person in Dougie’s eyes, the one who has all the solutions to all the problems in the world. He misses that he is needed, simple as.
And suddenly this idea keeps popping up in his head. An idea that just won’t go away. And this idea keeps just building itself up in his head and it all sounds just so good and so well-planned out. If he can’t make Dougie need him, how about doing it the other way round? Make him need Dougie. The effect will most likely be the same, won’t it? They’ll grow closer again, they’ll be back to solving each other’s problems. It would be like it was back then.
===
It is close to 3am when Dougie is awoken by the ringing of his phone. With a groan he rolls over in his bed and answers the call without checking the ID first. There are only three people who would call him at this time of the night anyway. Well, four, but said fourth person is lying next to him, sound asleep.
“This better be fucking important.” he croaks into the phone.
“Dougie? I can’t find my key. Can I … can I have yours?” comes a whiny voice from the other end.
“Harry?”
Then there is a giggle. And a hiccup. “Yyyyyyyyyup.”
“Dude, are you drunk?”
“Can’t find my keeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey.”
Dougie sighs, feeling a lot like he’s just talking to his cousin, the five-year-old. “Look in your pocket, Harry. Look. In. Your. Pocket.”
“Which one?”
“All of them.”
“I … s’dark, can’t find my pockets.”
Another exasperated sigh. “Where are you?”
“‘m. S’looks like home?”
“Okay, don’t move. I’ll be right there.”
And then Dougie is out of the door just a few minutes later, driving through barely lit streets, carefully watching that he doesn’t push the speed-limit. Least not too much.
He gets to Harry’s building and already sees him slouched down on the floor in front of the door when he drives up to it. He looks like he is asleep, right there on the doorstep, but he lifts his head (and even from inside the car Dougie can tell that this seems to be a rather difficult thing to do for his band mate right now) when he notices headlights coming closer.
“Dougieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! My saviour, you’re heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeere!” with a loud voice and arms flailing around uncontrollably.
Dougie parks the car, gets out and kneels next to the older male.
“Will you be quiet please? There’s people sleeping, you know. Come on, up you go.”
And with all his strength he brings Harry up to his feet, leans him against the wall and pats the outsides of Harry’s pockets until the feels the housekeys in one of them. Holding his friend in place, he fishes the key out of the drummer’s jeans.
“Yer …” Hiccup. “… yer feelin me up. ‘s feels funnyyyyyyy.”
“Oh you will stop feeling funny soon.” comes the mumbled response, “Now come on, let’s get you inside.”
And for God’s sake, Harry must have consumed his body weight in alcohol because really, he’s never been that heavy to move around. And his feet don’t seem to be part of his body anymore either because Dougie has to practically carry him through the door of his flat and he’s so glad that Harry chose the flat on the ground floor because getting him up a staircase would have needed a crane.
They pass the threshold of the flat and Dougie hits his hand against the wall, successfully finding the light switch on the first go. The bright lightning brings up a groan from Harry and when Dougie gets a whiff of his breath, what he already knows is testified. Harry has more alcohol than blood in his body.
“Bed or bathroom, Harry?”
Harry gives his best attempt to stand up straight. He waits a moment, paying attention to the signals his body give him.
“Bed. ‘m tired.”
“Okay, come on then.”
And he drags Harry to that big bed of his and just dumps him right there. And while he proceeds to take off Harry’s shoes and re-arrange that lumpy form on the bed, the drummer speaks up.
“Stay here?”
Dougie looks up. “What?”
The answer comes, but it’s in some half-asleep voice. “Jus’ stay, alrigh? Just like Wonderland.” And the words have barely left Harry’s mouth and he’s already asleep, softly snoring.
Dougie looks puzzled for a second, not understanding what Harry meant by ‘Wonderland’. He decides it’s probably some happy place inside Harry’s head where rivers are made of vodka, people play cricket 24/7 and everything is one massive Woodstock-festival. So he sighs, looking down at Harry’s sleeping form. He’s dead to the world, probably won’t remember a thing once he wakes up tomorrow (with a headache the size of a small country, no doubt).
And Dougie takes a look at the time. It’s almost 4am now and really, is there a point in going home? Not so much, he figures. He reaches into his own pocket and damn, his phone is on the nightstand. That is the nightstand in his own home, next to his own bed. And he has no idea where Harry’s phone even is and calling his landline would be a bad idea, it would only wake up the dogs and make them all antsy. So he just sighs again, gets out of his shoes, drops his hoodie to the floor and crawls into bed, right next to Harry.
===
Harry wakes up the next morning and. Erm. Whose idea was the alcohol-part again? He wants to swallow down that weird taste in his mouth but can’t for some reason. So water, yes, he needs water. Can’t open his eyes though because for one, that is way too exhausting and it’s probably daylight already and just thinking about daylight makes his head hurt even more than it already does. But where is that damn waterbottle?
He finally gets hold of the plastic object on the floor by his bed and takes a swig from it without moving too much. However, the thought that he will have to open his eyes at some point settles in his hungover brain so he figures he might as well get it over and done with now. He slowly cracks one eye open, not knowing what causes more pain inside his head. The movement or the daylight.
“Urgh, fuck!” he mutters out.
And then he suddenly hears a giggle from his side. His other side. “Yeah. Morning to you too, sunshine.” And the voice. Isn’t that?
With the last bits of strength Harry has, he turns his head to the other side, towards the voice and he’s definitely surprised to find Dougie sitting in his bed, back leaning against the headboard, a mug in his hand.
“Hey.” Harry mutters, pausing for a moment, “What are you doing here?”
Dougie smiles. “Well, who do you think got your drunken figure into bed last night? You called at some ungodly hour, were too fucking drunk to find the keys in your pocket. Called me to your rescue.”
“I did?”
“Oh yes. Kept shouting on top of your lungs when I got here, called me your saviour. You were quite a sight. Still are, if I may say so.” A smug grin. “How’re you feeling?”
“Like I chewed on an old carpet before I got run over by a bus.”
“Charming. Here, take those.”
And he hands over two pills, waits until they’re in Harry’s mouth and then hands him the mug with tea in it. Harry swallows the pills down, both in one go, before he dumps his head back on his pillow.
“I feel disgusting.”
“And, no offence, you are. So …” Dougie pauses, not quite sure to address this in the right way. But then again, is there ever a right way? “What happened?”
“What happened when?”
“What happened before you decided to drink up enough alcohol to match up to the Thames?”
“I was just. Drinking.”
“Obviously. But why?”
Dougie doesn’t want to pry but really, he needs to know. Because it isn’t like Harry to go and get drunk just because. There is always some sort of reason behind it, either something good or something bad. But always something.
“Do we have to get into this now?”
“Yes, we bloody well have to. You called me out of bed at three in the fucking morning and I’d at least like to know why.”
“I …”
And the words are stuck in Harry’s throat. He can’t just tell Dougie that he wants him back in his life, that he really does miss and need their messed up co-dependent relationship. Because really, it isn’t in his place to say that, and it isn’t the right time either.
“I just got drunk, alright? God, Danny does it all the time, haven’t seen anybody give him a hard time for it.”
“That’s because Danny’s Danny. You don’t do things like that, Harry.”
“Well, apparently I do.”
And he really doesn’t want to have this conversation. Not now (especially not now) and not ever, actually. So, no matter how much his body aches and no matter how exhausting every movement is, he really needs to leave this bed, this room, now. So he uses every tiny bit of strength left somewhere in his body and drags himself out of bed, staggering towards the bathroom and only moments later Dougie hears the shower running.
Harry spends longer in the shower than he normally would. But he really just doesn’t want to face Dougie. Kind of ridiculous, come to think of it. It’s not like Dougie is his mother and he’s fearing to be grounded or anything. But he knows Dougie wants answers and he can be persistent if he wants to be. And it’s these burning questions and the answers (his own answers) that Harry fears.
When Harry walks back into his bedroom, Dougie isn’t there anymore. And that almost makes him happy but only almost because he knows, he just knows, that Dougie didn’t go home. Not just yet. So he dresses slowly and then makes his way into his kitchen and surely enough. There is Dougie. Sitting by the table, typing away on Harry’s laptop.
“Made you food.” He doesn’t look up, just nods his head in the general direction of the kitchen counter.
The silent treatment is definitely a mother-trick. Saying nothing for a while, making the other person feel all safe and as soon as they do, bring on the questions and the guilt-trip. But Harry isn’t one to be played like that.
“Come on, I know you wanna ask. Ask then.” Because procrastination isn’t going to get him anywhere anyway. Let’s attack this. Head on.
Now Dougie actually looks up from the laptop, obviously being caught off guard by Harry being so straightforward. He expected this conversation to at least be some sort of a challenge.
“You know what I wanna ask. I asked already. How about you finally answer?” And back to the laptop.
That is definitely something Harry neither expected nor knows how to deal with. Dougie didn’t pretend to be annoyed and defensive, he actually really was.
“Why are you so pissed off? Jesus, I was just out and had a little too many. End of story.”
And then Dougie looks up, the anger of his voice now also visible in his eyes. He presses a button and then forcefully slams the laptop shut, not in the mood to care whether it’s Harry’s or his or if he broke it or not. He is just angry and the fact that Harry is so fucking oblivious doesn’t make the whole thing better.
“I am pissed off because you called me out of bed at three in the morning because you were so off your head that you couldn’t find a fucking keyring in the pocket of your jeans. And I am pissed off because I came here and brought you to bed and looked after you and made you your stupid breakfast and I didn’t even hear a single word of appreciation, no sign of a bloody ‘Thanks’. And I am pissed off because when I ask you what’s going on, when I wanna help you with whatever problem you have, you don’t even give me an answer but leave the room. That’s why I’m pissed off, Harry.”
“Fine. So next time I’m gonna call Tom then. Problem solved.”
“That’s not what I mean. I don’t mind helping you or anything. You know I don’t. But I at least like to know which kind of problem I’m dealing with. Which kind of problem you’re dealing with.”
“There is no fucking problem, Dougie. And if there was, who says that I you’re the one I wanna talk about it with? Not like you’re Mister Know-All.”
And those last words definitely come out way too harsh. So harsh in fact that they bring a look of shock on Dougie’s face. And his face contorts into something Harry can’t identify and his eyebrows twitch and then he just shakes his head.
“You know what? Next time? Call Tom. Cos I’m not gonna pick up the phone. I mean, I wouldn’t even know how to, right?”
And he leaves. He’s not saying another word, he’s not looking back. He’s not doing anything. He just leaves. He doesn’t even slam the door. It makes Harry realise that he’s just fucked up. Majorly.
===
It’s already afternoon when Dougie finally gets home. After leaving Harry’s he couldn’t go back to normality, didn’t have it in him to face anyone, needed to be with his thoughts for a while. It didn’t help really. He is still upset and he still can’t make sense of all that had happened in the morning.
He opens the door and Flea is there before he’s even fully inside, wagging his tail and yapping in excitement. And only seconds later she’s there too, leaning in the doorway to the living room.
“There you are.”
He nods, lips pressed tightly together.
“Where you been?”
“Harry’s.”
“For breakfast or …”
“He got drunk last night. Went over around three or so. Didn’t wanna wake you.”
“Not that you could’ve. Not without that.”
And she hands him his phone. He only takes a short look at it. No messages. No missed calls.
There is no ‘Thank you’ or ‘Sorry’ and he doesn’t lean over to give her a kiss on the cheek either. He pats Flea on the head, only once though, before heading straight for the bedroom, closing the door behind him. Isolation, he still needs it, apparently.
===
And Harry is in his own flat and he curses himself. He didn’t finish Dougie’s breakfast, he didn’t do anything but sit and stare into nothingness.
His plan backfired, totally. Instead of bringing Dougie closer to himself, he pushed him further away than he’s ever been.
Without thinking (because really, thinking got him into this mess in the first place) he reaches for his phone and dials a number.
“Danny? Hey, you and Ant up to anything tonight? … Wanna go out then? … Yeah, ‘s fine too. I’ll bring drinks. … See you later.”
As soon as he hangs up he realises that what he just agreed on is probably gonna land him in deep but he really doesn’t want to care for a while and it’s not like he isn’t in deep already.
===
Dougie has been sitting in his bedroom for the past two hours, staring at the exact same spot of the wall, trying to piece together exactly what happened at Harry’s. It just doesn’t make sense in his head. Not at all. Harry and him can talk about anything and everything and when a problem appears, they talk it out first, analyse it from all angles. And if they can’t solve it together, then they talk it out with Tom and Danny. Most times, talking to Tom and Danny hadn’t been necessary. Because yeah. They solve each other’s problems, nobody else needed.
And now Harry didn’t want to talk to him and he basically called him stupid. And he had said it with such spite that there was no doubt in the matter. Harry didn’t want Dougie around, didn’t want him to talk to, didn’t want him to help.
There’s a soft knock on the door. He raises his head just in time for the door opening. She sticks her head in.
“You okay?”
He shakes his head. “No. Not really.”
She comes in, takes a seat on the bed. She sits by his feet, doesn’t touch him though. She’s looking for his eyes.
“This about Harry and last night?”
“Yeah. Kinda.”
“Wanna talk about it?”
And he shakes his head again.
“Dougie …”
“Look, I don’t want to talk about it. And I can’t talk about it. Not with you.”
“But. I thought we talk about everything.”
“Are we really?”
“Well, I talk about everything with you.”
“No, you don’t. When you don’t get me on something, you run to Gi or Tom. When you have girl-problems, you call one of the girls.”
“Don’t make this about me when it’s you who has the issues, Doug.”
“Oh, so now I have issues?”
“Obviously.”
“I don’t have fucking issues, alright? I have a shitty day because I’ve had a fight with Harry.”
“So tell me about it. I’m sure it’s not that bad once you get it off your chest.”
“You really don’t get it, do you?”
“No. Frankly, I don’t.”
“Have you ever, ever, heard me talk to you about Harry and me?”
She thinks for a moment, then realises. “I haven’t, no.”
“And he’s never heard me talk about me and you, either.”
“So what does that mean?”
“That you and me happen on another level than Harry and me. Harry and I have always been on another level, ever since we knew each other. No one apart from him and me will ever be able to fully understand him and me. Hell, sometimes we don’t even understand us ourselves.”
“So you’re saying that I won’t be able to understand a stupid little fight between the two of you?”
“That’s my fucking point! If you only understood a tiny bit of what Harry and I are, you wouldn’t even dare to speak about it as ‘a stupid little fight’.” His voice has gone louder. He takes a breath, calms himself.
She takes a deep breath too. “You know, I don’t think I should be here.”
“I think you shouldn’t be either.”
“You don’t understand, Doug. When I say I shouldn’t be here, I mean that I probably shouldn’t be in your life right now. Not until you know who you are and who you belong to. And to be honest, I think you know who you belong to. And it’s not me. It’s never been.”
And Dougie is silent. Doesn’t say anything because yeah, he knows she’s right. He hasn’t been fair to her from the beginning on. A part of him was always with Harry in one way or another. And as long as that part of him can’t let go, it isn’t fair to be with just anyone.
“Sorry.” And he means it too.
“Yeah. So am I.”
She isn’t mad, she has probably seen this coming too. Maybe saw it the whole time, just chose to do the same thing as him. Ignore it.
She stands from the bed. “I hope you guys will work this out. I really do.”
“Thanks.”
And she leans forward and presses a gentle kiss on his forehead. She smiles at him one last time, a genuine smile, before she turns and leaves the room. And just a minute later Dougie hears as the front door closes with a silent click. And then he’s back to staring at the wall.
===
It’s not even seven in the evening when Harry rings the doorbell at Danny’s place. He’s early but it’s not like it matters. They’re not going to go anywhere and since when can you not get to your friend’s place early on a football-night?
Ant opens the door, ushers him inside, tells him that Danny isn’t in yet, off to buy some food. They have the first beer while they wait.
When Danny finally arrives, he brought pizza and more beer and some vodka because, “How long’s that beer gonna last us anyway?” and they drink more, get louder with each passing minute. Maybe it’s because of the football, maybe it’s not. For Harry it’s most certainly not. He isn’t even completely sure who’s playing.
It’s way past midnight and all of a sudden the mood seems to change, takes a drastic turn from good to bad. The football’s long over and they settled on some music channel some hour ago. Ant is already passed out on the sofa and Danny is definitely closer to sleep than to being awake. Harry asks for another drink though.
“Nah, sorry mate. Guess we drank it all.”
“What? No, that can’t be. I’m not even feeling anything.”
And he stands up, wants to go to the kitchen to look for himself, thinks in his disillusioned state that Danny wants to keep all the booze for himself and Ant. And he swaggers and all of a sudden the room is turning upside down and the kitchen doorway is so fucking tiny.
“OW! Fuck!”
One of Danny’s barstools lands on the tilted kitchen floor with a loud smash. It makes Ant wake up and Bruce is barking loudly at the unexpected noise.
Danny is by Harry’s side, kneeling down next to him and Harry can’t even recall falling over. “You okay there, mate? Here, let me help you up.”
Harry sees Danny holding his hand out to him, a look of worry on his face because Harry fell pretty hard, chances are he hit himself on the barstool or the doorway. But Harry isn’t hurt, at least not in a way that Danny could make better. And how can Danny not know, seriously?
“Get off me!” he snarls, batting Danny’s hand away, “I don’t need your fucking help, alright?”
And he tries to stand up but the room is still turning so he sits down there on the floor, leaning against the wall. He looks at his hands and he could really use a smoke right now but for the life of him, he can’t remember where he put his cigarettes. Dougie, he would know. Dougie knows those things. When Harry can’t find his phone, Dougie tells him it’s in the inside pocket of his jacket so it won’t get stolen. The car keys are in the left pocket of his trousers, house keys in the right. Dougie knows all that because he knows Harry. But now he’s not here and Harry can’t find his cigarettes and he fucked this all up and that’s why Dougie is not here to help him find them.
“Where are they, where the fuck are they?” he mutters.
“Where’s what, Harry?”
“I … he … help me find ‘em. I need ‘im to help me, he always knows where they are. Why’s he not here?”
Danny looks at Ant, hoping that maybe his room mate knows what and who Harry is referring to. Ant just shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders. At the moment Harry is making as much sense to him as mathematic formulas and the alcohol fogging his brain is definitely no help.
“I need ‘im. It needs to be like Wonderland.” And he keeps mumbling and repeating himself about finding them and needing him and his voice gets whiny and he might be breaking out in tears every second.
And Danny still doesn’t understand and he has no idea what to do to make Harry calm down and get him into bed. But he knows that there is someone who understands and who can calm him down.
===
Throughout the day Dougie had barely moved, and if so only to lie down on his bed.
The day was just too intense to comprehend. Just 24 hours ago he had been in a great relationship with the girl he fancied for years and he had the most awesome person in the universe as a best friend. And now he had neither of the two and everything just happened in such a high speed that it seemed like he went from all to nothing in under a minute.
In a moment like that he would normally call Harry and the two would talk and figure it all out in the end. Harry would assure him that he wasn’t worth of a girlfriend who clearly couldn’t understand the importance of the friendships that were lying under the surface of the band. Harry would offer a warm smile and a hug and sooner than one could blink, the world would be fine again.
But what now? Who could Dougie turn to after losing Harry? No one understood him like Harry did and no one could help him like Harry did. No one could ever be able to be a substitute for Harry, let alone replace him completely.
Dougie wants to sleep, he really does. Maybe, once he wakes up, this will all turn out to be one really bad dream. He will wake up and see her lying next to him. He will get up, go to the kitchen and Harry will be there, making him eggs for breakfast.
But then the phone rings and Dougie really thinks about not answering it. He’s been through enough today really. He can’t handle another thing. But the ringing doesn’t stop and something tells him that this must be something important.
For the first time since the afternoon he leaves the bedroom. His flat is cold and dark and empty and it seems like the persistent ringing of the phone is the only sound that’s currently heard all over the world.
He checks the caller ID this time. It’s Danny.
“Hey Dan.”
“Dougs, mate, I need you over here.” And he sounds desperate and alert and in panic.
“What’s the matter?” And now Dougie is alert and in panic too.
“Harry. It’s Harry. I don’t know what to do. I think he’s having a nervous breakdown or something. And me and Ant, we’re drunk, we all are. But Harry, he’s not making sense. I wanna get him into bed or in the shower or just somewhere but he won’t even let me touch him and please Dougie, you need to come here. Now.”
Dougie really wants to say no. Because he can’t face up to Harry. Not when he’s feeling like he’s feeling and not if Harry’s acting like Danny says he’s acting.
“Does Harry want me there?”
“Dougs, I don’t know what Harry wants. He keeps mumbling about needing help finding something, says that he needs someone and that he wants to go to Wonderland.”
And then Dougie remembers last night.
“Stay here?”
“What?”
“Jus’ stay, alrigh? Just like Wonderland.”
There’s pieces that suddenly start to come together, they form a picture. An old picture. Dougie still doesn’t see the whole thing but the fragment he can see, that’s enough. For now.
“Try make him drink water. Tell him it’s vodka, he won’t know the difference. Make him believe he’s still drinking, that should distract him. Just don’t give him coffee, it’ll make him sick faster than you know. I’ll be there in a few.”
And this time Dougie runs out of his flat and he speeds down the streets, ignoring any signs or red lights. He’s at Danny’s door in record speed.
Ant is letting out a relieved sigh when he opens the door and he’s almost about to just give Dougie a hug for finally being there, for bringing an end to this and putting them all out of their misery.
“Sorry Doug. I had no idea it would end like this. We never would’ve let him drink this much if we had known.”
Dougie pats him on the shoulder. “Not your fault, you just caught him at a bad time. Where is he?”
The question answers itself because right then Dougie hears a whimper, a hiccup and a few choked up words he can’t understand. He knows they can only come from one person. He rushes past Ant and follows the noise and then he sees it.
Harry is sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall, legs spread out in front of him, clutching a vodka bottle in his shaking hand. He takes a swig every now and then and mumbles to himself.
“Oh dear.” So yes, it actually is as bad as Danny said it was.
Danny looks up when he hears Dougie’s voice and you can see the weight that is falling off his shoulders now, that he’s glad that Dougie is finally here.
Dougie kneels down between Harry’s legs, runs his hand over his knee to get his attention.
“Harry. Hey, Harry.”
And Harry looks up with puffy eyes and his face expression resembles a smile when he realises it’s Dougie in front of him.
“Dougie! You’re heeeeeeeeeere!”
“Yes Harry, I’m here. Danny told me you’re looking for something?”
“‘m fags. Can’ find ‘em.”
“They’re in your car, Harry. You keep them there to smoke less, remember?” he says in a calm and soothing voice. It seems to help, Harry’s weeping is dying down. “Now, how does sleep sound to you?”
“You … you stayin? Like Wonderland?”
And Dougie nods, placing his hand on the back of Harry’s neck, making him look into his eyes when he answers. “Just like Wonderland, Harry.”
That seems to do the job as Harry puts the bottle down and makes an attempt to stand up. Dougie helps him, hooks the drummer’s arm around his neck, supporting him.
“Guys, can we … he really needs a proper bed.” He looks at Danny and Ant who are both standing at a safe distance, neither daring to say a word to not put Harry out of this comfort zone he’s found himself in.
“Take my room. I’ll sleep on the sofa.” Ant offers and he just rushes into the room to get some fresh clothes for the next morning.
“Thanks. Night guys, see you tomorrow.”
And Harry also yells “G’night fellas. Cheers for the evening!” before Dougie manoeuvres him through the door of Ant’s bedroom.
Once they’re in the room, all the noise seems to have to died down. They can’t hear Danny and Ant shuffling about in the living room, cleaning up the mess they all made, trying to also clean away the memories of the past few hours. And Dougie just takes a breath, trying to calm himself down for a change but he feels Harry’s weight dragging him down so he guides him over to the bed and makes him sit down.
“‘m sorry, Dougie. Sososo sorry.”
“It’s fine, Harry. No worries.”
“No. ‘m need to apologise now before I forget t’morrow.”
“I’ll remind you of it.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. And now come on, it’s sleep-time.”
“You really stay?”
“Of course. Wouldn’t be Wonderland if it wasn’t the two of us, would it?”
And Harry nods, his eyes almost falling close. He’s tired, so very tired. But he’s scared to fall asleep. What if he wakes up in the morning and Dougie isn’t there? So he holds onto him, really tight too, not intending to let go, ever. He feels Dougie’s heartbeat, can hear his breathing and this may as well just be the best place he’s ever been to.
Dougie runs his hand through Harry’s hair, much like the elder did it to him. Back in the day. He knows about the calming effect this simple gesture has held for so many years now. And it helps too. Harry’s breathing is evening out and when Dougie casts a look he sees that Harry is asleep. Finally.
So he moves him, carefully, afraid to maybe disturb him in his sleep, and lays him down on the bed, covers him with the blanket and just watches. Wherever Harry is right now, he’s obviously found his peace there and Dougie’s glad. Glad that apparently it’s him who can bring that peace to Harry.
He sits there and just watches for quite some time before tiredness seems to catch up to him as well. This whole day has been filled with so much everything that Dougie didn’t even have time to notice that he didn’t eat or sleep for almost 24 hours. So he just toes his shoes off and lays down, right there next to Harry, and sooner than he knows he’s fallen into a deep sleep as well.
===
They don’t know what the time is when they wake up but they both know it’s definitely too early for anybody to use a lawnmower so close to their window.
Dougie wakes up first, cursing the loud noise coming from outside and waking him from the first deep sleep he had in ages. And only seconds after his eyes are open he hears a muffled voice from next to him.
“Oh bloody fucking hell!”
Dougie rolls over and there he is. Harry, with his head buried under the pillow, mumbling out obscenities. He moves to lay on his stomach and just looks and listens. Harry can be a challenge in the mornings but if a hungover Harry gets woken up before the early afternoon, you may as well write your last wish. And that’s another thing that Dougie just knows about the drummer and the fact that he knows it currently just makes him incredible happy. And so, he laughs.
At first Harry is confused because yes, he again can’t remember how he got into bed and from what he knows, there shouldn’t be someone laughing next to him either. And if his hungover brain is getting the connections right, the laughing person shouldn’t even be who he thinks it is because. Yeah. He screwed that up.
He has to make sure though. So he lifts the pillow and casts a look. And yes, Dougie is laughing. In bed. Next to him. And this doesn’t make sense. And whose freaking bed is this anyway?
“Should I even bother to ask?” he croaks because whatever, Dougie will understand him no matter what.
“Ant’s bed.” Dougie just says, getting back to being serious about this. Being happy, that might come later. At some point.
“The fuck happened?”
“You gave poor Danny and Ant the scare of a lifetime last night. Danny called me at some time past midnight. He thought you had a nervous breakdown, for fuck’s sake.”
And yes, this comes out sharp but that’s the way it needs to be right now.
“What the hell is going on with you, Harry? Do you wanna go on like that until I get a call from a fucking hospital because you actually managed to get alcohol poisoning? And if you only think about giving me that ‘nothing’s going on’ crap I will throw you out of the window and let the lawnmower have its wicked way with you! Besides, I know that it’s not true. I know that there is something going on.”
Harry dumps his head back on the pillow. He really is in no state to have this conversation. Not again and not right now. But he knows how Dougie gets when he’s mad so he knows that yes, Dougie actually will throw him in front of the lawnmower.
“How do you know what?” Attacking this. Head on. Clearly, the only way to go.
“You said it yourself.”
And this makes Harry’s brain stop for a second before it’s picking up its work again, in overtime now. What did he tell Dougie? Or did he say something to Danny or Ant and they said something to Dougie? Did he put something on the internet, did he leave a message on Dougie’s voicemail?
“I can’t … I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Because really. Harry hasn’t got the slightest clue.
“Does ‘Wonderland’ mean anything to you?”
That really makes Harry’s brain stop. And his heart too and he’s sure, everything else came to a stillstand as well.
“At first I didn’t get it, you know.” Dougie starts, “The day before yesterday, when you called me. You asked me to stay over when I put you into bed, said ‘Just like Wonderland’. I had no idea what you meant, thought Tom had just overdosed you on Disney-films. But yesterday you kept telling Danny time and time again that it needs to be like Wonderland. I still don’t get it completely but I have an idea what you were talking about.”
Harry just raises his eyebrows, physically unable to do anything else, especially speaking.
“Maybe you didn’t mean a Wonderland. Maybe you meant our Wonderland. Not the album but. Everything that was going on during that time. Back then.”
Harry still can’t say anything. He just sighs. He’s defeated and he knows it. And from the look on Dougie’s face, from the way the young man nods his head, he can tell that the bassist knows as well.
“I just. The alcohol, that’s where you lose me. Dou you have to be drunk to remember or …?”
And finally. Harry speaks. “I made myself need you.”
“What?” Dougie really doesn’t understand. At all.
“Back then, it was you who needed me. You got dumped and you felt so down most of the time. And I was picking you up and put you back together. You needed me to do that because you couldn’t do it yourself. But these days you’re so. There’s nothing that breaks you and there’s no need for me to pick you up and put you back together. You don’t need me anymore so I figured …”
“You make yourself the weak one and let me do the job.” Dougie finishes.
Harry nods.
“But. Why? Why does it have to be like that? Why is there a need for being weak and needing to be put back together?”
“Because … because it brings us closer together. Ever since … her. She’s there so you don’t need me anymore. She’s there to pick you up when you’re down and she makes you feel better. Not me.”
And now Dougie finally understands. Harry thought he had lost him. To her. And by drinking himself close to a coma he was clinging to a very thin straw that represented their relationship. His drinking was a crying out for Dougie to not leave him alone in this life.
To make things worse, Dougie now sees it too. He can see what he did to Harry. He was too occupied, was so focussed on making his relationship with her work that he forgot that there were other things that needed work as well. And just as much work, too. If not more.
He hangs his head in shame. Can’t believe that this wasn’t what Harry did to himself. He did this. He did this to Harry.
“I’m so sorry, Harry.”
And now Harry is surprised because this was his own stupid idea. Dougie shouldn’t even feel the need to apologise. Finally Harry shakes off the blanket and sits up in bed, cupping Dougie’s chin. Makes him look up. Into his eyes.
“No, Dougie. No. There’s nothing you have to be sorry for. This is not your fault! I should be sorry. And believe me, I am. I am so sorry. I was stupid and needy and had absolutely no right to scare you and Danny and Ant like this. I was being a selfish bastard who couldn’t handle his best friend having a girlfriend.”
“You don’t have to handle that anymore.” Dougie mumbles and realises that Harry doesn’t even know yet.
“But I want to, Dougie. I’m your best friend, you shouldn’t keep things like that from me just because you think I can’t take it. Yes, it will suck for a while but I promise you, I will adjust.”
“No Harry, that’s not. It’s not what I meant. I meant that you don’t have to handle that anymore because there’s no girlfriend anymore.”
Harry is properly stunned now. When did that even happen? Last time he checked, Dougie was still in a good-working relationship with the girl he had wanted to date for a few years.
“But. When? How?” His brain has problems processing. Clearly.
“Yesterday. She didn’t get that there are things, people, in my life that have nothing to do with her.” He looks at Harry when he says ‘people’. “She just. She didn’t get it.” He shakes his head. “And then she left and I didn’t even try to stop her.”
And Harry wants to say something. He wants to tell Dougie that he needs to call her, now. And he wants to tell him that he better go get some flowers and chocolate and go over to her and grovel and plead for her to take him back. But he doesn’t get to say anything because Dougie just goes on talking.
“I didn’t stop her because I didn’t actually want to. I mean yeah, she’s great and the whole thing. It was good while it lasted but. The relationship wasn’t going to work in the long run. Because I wasn’t willing to fully commit. I couldn’t fully commit. Not when there’s something else, someone else” and he looks at Harry again, “who I put in front of her. I shouldn’t be with her if she cares more about me than I care about her.”
“But …”
And Dougie shakes his head, interrupts him. “There is no ‘but’, Harry. I didn’t love her and that’s it. Or. Maybe I did love her on some level. But it wasn’t anything like this.” He waves his finger back and forth, between himself and Harry. “You’re the one I talk to about everything and I’m the one you talk to about everything. And we surely had our fair share of ups and downs in the past but I mean. We’ve really done everything to screw up whatever is going on between us but we still always get back into it. We always end up with each other again because we can’t stay away from each other. And I really don’t want us to stay away from each other because that’s simply not the way it’s supposed to be. And this is not about you needing me or me needing you. This is about us needing each other. And maybe I’m pushing things too far here but I really am fed up with this, this whole ‘is it or is it not’-thing. It is, okay? It is and we are.”
And again, Harry can’t say anything. Doesn’t know what to say or if there even is anything to say. Because yeah, Dougie just said it all. He hit the nail on the head.
However, Dougie seems to misunderstand Harry’s lack of words. “Okay. I guess I was just seeing things.”
And now Harry jumps into action again. “No! No, you didn’t. I just. I’m quite speechless.”
“Good speechless or bad speechless?”
“Good. Definitely good.”
And Dougie smiles. Weakly, but it’s there. “So can we. Can we just finish up with this? Cos. I’m tired, Harry. I’m so fucking tired of the whole back and forth and I’m sick and tired of girlfriends that don’t mean anything. I just want to be with you.”
He hopes that Harry understands. Even though it’s early and he’s hungover. But he needs Harry to understand, to remember that he knows Dougie better than Dougie knows himself. Because Dougie can’t talk and think no more. And he doesn’t want to talk and think anymore either. He just wants to let go and fall. And he wants to be caught by Harry. No one else.
And yeah, Harry does understand. He can tell that Dougie is tired and exhausted and that he’s sick of talking and explaining, thinking and dealing. There’s this heavy burden that’s making him crumble more with each second. And he’s only moments away from breaking down from the pressure this whole thing has put on him.
Harry won’t let it come this far. He just grabs Dougie and wraps his arms around him. He holds him tightly to his chest, makes him feel his heartbeat and hear his breathing. He’s telling him a million things without saying a word. His eyes let him know that everything, they, will be alright at some point and the recent events will be nothing but a shadow in the background of some sour memories. He runs his hand through the young man’s hair and brings him to let lose. He lets him fall and catches him at the same time.
“I am with you, Dougie. You’re with me and I’m with you.”
It’s just like Wonderland.
The End