Guilty (SA)
Title: Guilty
Author: sophie_03
Warnings: slash.
Pairing/s: PoynterJudd
Disclaimer: not true, don't own them.
Summary: Dougie finds it hard to face Harry again... after all he thinks its his fault Harry was in hospital.
Notes:
please comment if you read lovely.
i wrote a pudd. I'm happy.
Guilty
There was a small crowd of us, standing round the bed, in this strange, unnatural environment that none of us really understood. But we were there. I hated it, it gave me the shivers.
It didn’t feel right. And I didn’t like looking at anyone, seeing them in pain, uncomfortable. I felt like I shouldn’t be there anyway.
Yet I was.
As soon as I saw him lying there, so weakened, the guilt I felt flooded through me like an avalanche, the voice inside my head telling me over and over, your fault your fault, that’s why he’s here, your fault.
I hovered in the background; thinking maybe he wouldn’t see me, that I wouldn’t have to talk to him, if I just stayed where I was.
But as he greeted each of us our eyes met and I couldn’t pretend. I begged him with my eyes, apologising. I’d never felt so guilty, ever.. all my fault.
I hated seeing him laid there, like that, helpless. Not the person I knew.
I continued to just stand there, as the others made up an atmosphere, talking to him, filling him in with what he’d missed, trying to cheer him up. Everything I should be doing and I wasn’t. I was just standing there, hopelessly. I was useless.
I’m so sorry I said in my head, over and over. - as if he could hear me.
I just wished he could; because then it would be so much easier. He would know what I couldn’t put into words, that I was the guilty one, that it was all my fault and I was sorry, so sorry. I would just have to keep wishing.
They had found chairs to sit on and continued their chatting. I was unsure whether they were just letting me be, or whether they had forgotten I was even there. Whichever it was I didn’t think I minded. He too had taken his eyes off me and was talking to them, replying to their questions, but he wasn’t himself. It was like he had lost his voice and he wasn’t all there. He was half gone. He was weary, I could tell that.
I stood there, not really listening to their conversation; not really wanting to feel included because I shouldn’t be.
Instead I stood there, taking in the depressing décor of the bland room, with uninspiring furniture and that weird hospital smell; the room that held an odd feeling, with machines beeping and people hurrying about outside in the corridor, unfamiliar, necessary routines and people struggling to live… I shuddered as I stood there; really not wanting to be there.
And then suddenly they were all standing up, Tom saying something about hot drinks and before I knew it I was there alone with him. I looked around me and they had gone, disappeared down a corridor and it was just me, and him.
What on earth did I do?
I looked back at him and instantly I could see his façade had dropped and he was exhausted. He was fading.
‘Do,’ he began.
‘No, Harry,’ I moved closer and sat hesitantly in the chair that Tom had vacated. ‘It’s my fault. I’m so sorry, I don’t know what,’ my voice was pleading, I was trying to tell him but it was so hard.
‘Don’t. its not. It would have happened.’
‘It might not have.’ I whispered, dropping my head so I didn’t have to look at him because it hurt.
‘Dougie.’
I felt his hand reaching out to me.
‘Don’t go blaming yourself, please? I’ll be fine.’ He stopped as I looked up at him, searching his face desperately. Then he whispered, ‘Thank you for coming.’
And then I gripped his hand, tightly, needing to feel he was still real, that he was still there. and he was.
He looked at me, and I could see the pain in his eyes and the weakness he felt. He squeezed my hand back, and I was glad I was there, that he still wanted me there.
He closed his eyes as I sat there, stroking his hand, watching him breathing gently. He looked peaceful, as if he was now content.
I hesitated briefly before leaning forward in my chair and allowing myself to peck him lightly on his cheek.
His eyes fluttered open and he looked at me again as I sat back, smiling at me.
‘What was that for?’
‘You don’t hate me.’
‘Of course I don’t.’
‘It was easier to think you would.’ I mumbled.
I was still studying his face, still trying to understand.
‘I’m sorry.’ He told me and I shook my head.
‘I am.’
I still had his hand gripped tightly in mine and he looked at me, as if studying me too. I sat there, wondering what he was thinking, wanting to know. I was scared that he was in pain, that he was uncomfortable; but it was too hard to ask. I didn’t belong there, not really.
He still looked tired, like I’d never seen him before and it scared me. it scared me that this was a different man lying there, a more vulnerable one that I couldn’t quite connect with in the same way. Every move I made was hesitant; I was thinking about my words like I’d never thought about them before. Suddenly it was so much harder.
It wasn’t fair. This wasn’t fair. I didn’t want to go through this, I didn’t want to be there. yet I was and I had to deal with it. That was hard. I just sat there, holding his hand, not being able to find the right words to comfort him, to make us, us, again. So I sat there, in what I hoped was a comfortable silence.
It seemed wrong to try to tell him what he’d missed at home, how everything was, because that didn’t seem right. It was just easier to sit there with him. I couldn’t even bring myself to tell him how much I missed him; how much I needed him.
And now I was there I didn’t want to leave, not at all. I needed to be there with him. I couldn’t leave him no matter how guilty I was feeling. Did it help the guilt, just being there? Maybe it did. We needed each other so much.
I was surprised when the others returned.
I’d forgotten they were even there.
Tom put his hand on my shoulder and smiled at Harry. ‘Alright?’ he asked. ‘Danny was wrestling with the tea machine.’
Harry smiled and I tried to smile, but my smile was weak and pathetic. It wasn’t real. How could it be?
Danny and Tom were both drinking tea. Harry had one too. There was one in front of me. I hadn’t seen it. I stared at it as if it wasn’t real, as if it couldn’t be.
They both began talking again, apparently unaware of the odd, awkward silence they’d interrupted.
I was still gripping Harry’s hand as if using it to support myself; as if I needed it like I needed to breathe.
We couldn’t stay forever.
As we went to leave, my hand reluctantly loosening from Harry’s he suddenly tightened his grip as Tom and Danny turned.
‘Dougie.’ He whispered.
I waited.
‘Don’t go blaming yourself, please.’
I didn’t answer as he let my hand go.
‘I love you.’ I mumbled leaning forward and touching his lips with mine. ‘See you tomorrow, yeah?’
He nodded and then the moment was gone, and I just wanted to fade into the background again, away from it all, and as I walked away my mind turned again, accusing myself, yet again, for all this mess. I would never rest I knew that - no matter what he said. It was my fault.
Author: sophie_03
Warnings: slash.
Pairing/s: PoynterJudd
Disclaimer: not true, don't own them.
Summary: Dougie finds it hard to face Harry again... after all he thinks its his fault Harry was in hospital.
Notes:
please comment if you read lovely.
i wrote a pudd. I'm happy.
Guilty
There was a small crowd of us, standing round the bed, in this strange, unnatural environment that none of us really understood. But we were there. I hated it, it gave me the shivers.
It didn’t feel right. And I didn’t like looking at anyone, seeing them in pain, uncomfortable. I felt like I shouldn’t be there anyway.
Yet I was.
As soon as I saw him lying there, so weakened, the guilt I felt flooded through me like an avalanche, the voice inside my head telling me over and over, your fault your fault, that’s why he’s here, your fault.
I hovered in the background; thinking maybe he wouldn’t see me, that I wouldn’t have to talk to him, if I just stayed where I was.
But as he greeted each of us our eyes met and I couldn’t pretend. I begged him with my eyes, apologising. I’d never felt so guilty, ever.. all my fault.
I hated seeing him laid there, like that, helpless. Not the person I knew.
I continued to just stand there, as the others made up an atmosphere, talking to him, filling him in with what he’d missed, trying to cheer him up. Everything I should be doing and I wasn’t. I was just standing there, hopelessly. I was useless.
I’m so sorry I said in my head, over and over. - as if he could hear me.
I just wished he could; because then it would be so much easier. He would know what I couldn’t put into words, that I was the guilty one, that it was all my fault and I was sorry, so sorry. I would just have to keep wishing.
They had found chairs to sit on and continued their chatting. I was unsure whether they were just letting me be, or whether they had forgotten I was even there. Whichever it was I didn’t think I minded. He too had taken his eyes off me and was talking to them, replying to their questions, but he wasn’t himself. It was like he had lost his voice and he wasn’t all there. He was half gone. He was weary, I could tell that.
I stood there, not really listening to their conversation; not really wanting to feel included because I shouldn’t be.
Instead I stood there, taking in the depressing décor of the bland room, with uninspiring furniture and that weird hospital smell; the room that held an odd feeling, with machines beeping and people hurrying about outside in the corridor, unfamiliar, necessary routines and people struggling to live… I shuddered as I stood there; really not wanting to be there.
And then suddenly they were all standing up, Tom saying something about hot drinks and before I knew it I was there alone with him. I looked around me and they had gone, disappeared down a corridor and it was just me, and him.
What on earth did I do?
I looked back at him and instantly I could see his façade had dropped and he was exhausted. He was fading.
‘Do,’ he began.
‘No, Harry,’ I moved closer and sat hesitantly in the chair that Tom had vacated. ‘It’s my fault. I’m so sorry, I don’t know what,’ my voice was pleading, I was trying to tell him but it was so hard.
‘Don’t. its not. It would have happened.’
‘It might not have.’ I whispered, dropping my head so I didn’t have to look at him because it hurt.
‘Dougie.’
I felt his hand reaching out to me.
‘Don’t go blaming yourself, please? I’ll be fine.’ He stopped as I looked up at him, searching his face desperately. Then he whispered, ‘Thank you for coming.’
And then I gripped his hand, tightly, needing to feel he was still real, that he was still there. and he was.
He looked at me, and I could see the pain in his eyes and the weakness he felt. He squeezed my hand back, and I was glad I was there, that he still wanted me there.
He closed his eyes as I sat there, stroking his hand, watching him breathing gently. He looked peaceful, as if he was now content.
I hesitated briefly before leaning forward in my chair and allowing myself to peck him lightly on his cheek.
His eyes fluttered open and he looked at me again as I sat back, smiling at me.
‘What was that for?’
‘You don’t hate me.’
‘Of course I don’t.’
‘It was easier to think you would.’ I mumbled.
I was still studying his face, still trying to understand.
‘I’m sorry.’ He told me and I shook my head.
‘I am.’
I still had his hand gripped tightly in mine and he looked at me, as if studying me too. I sat there, wondering what he was thinking, wanting to know. I was scared that he was in pain, that he was uncomfortable; but it was too hard to ask. I didn’t belong there, not really.
He still looked tired, like I’d never seen him before and it scared me. it scared me that this was a different man lying there, a more vulnerable one that I couldn’t quite connect with in the same way. Every move I made was hesitant; I was thinking about my words like I’d never thought about them before. Suddenly it was so much harder.
It wasn’t fair. This wasn’t fair. I didn’t want to go through this, I didn’t want to be there. yet I was and I had to deal with it. That was hard. I just sat there, holding his hand, not being able to find the right words to comfort him, to make us, us, again. So I sat there, in what I hoped was a comfortable silence.
It seemed wrong to try to tell him what he’d missed at home, how everything was, because that didn’t seem right. It was just easier to sit there with him. I couldn’t even bring myself to tell him how much I missed him; how much I needed him.
And now I was there I didn’t want to leave, not at all. I needed to be there with him. I couldn’t leave him no matter how guilty I was feeling. Did it help the guilt, just being there? Maybe it did. We needed each other so much.
I was surprised when the others returned.
I’d forgotten they were even there.
Tom put his hand on my shoulder and smiled at Harry. ‘Alright?’ he asked. ‘Danny was wrestling with the tea machine.’
Harry smiled and I tried to smile, but my smile was weak and pathetic. It wasn’t real. How could it be?
Danny and Tom were both drinking tea. Harry had one too. There was one in front of me. I hadn’t seen it. I stared at it as if it wasn’t real, as if it couldn’t be.
They both began talking again, apparently unaware of the odd, awkward silence they’d interrupted.
I was still gripping Harry’s hand as if using it to support myself; as if I needed it like I needed to breathe.
We couldn’t stay forever.
As we went to leave, my hand reluctantly loosening from Harry’s he suddenly tightened his grip as Tom and Danny turned.
‘Dougie.’ He whispered.
I waited.
‘Don’t go blaming yourself, please.’
I didn’t answer as he let my hand go.
‘I love you.’ I mumbled leaning forward and touching his lips with mine. ‘See you tomorrow, yeah?’
He nodded and then the moment was gone, and I just wanted to fade into the background again, away from it all, and as I walked away my mind turned again, accusing myself, yet again, for all this mess. I would never rest I knew that - no matter what he said. It was my fault.