CLOSED

playpretend @ 2007-06-15T19:19:00

2007-06-15T18:21:58Z

This journal is now CLOSED.

playpretend @ 2006-01-22T17:21:00

2006-01-22T17:20:31Z

Title: PS, I love you.
Part: 5/?
Rating: 12 - Deals with the aftermath of a death.
Pairing: FletchJones.
Storyline: Based on the book "PS, I love you" by Cecelia Ahern.
Disclaimer: I own Danny. That is all.
Posted in: mcflyslash and mcslash.

“Whoopsydaisy!” Tom chirped drunkenly as he stumbled over the front door mat, tumbling face down on the carpet, in a state of bubbly giggles.

“Wh-… whoops-…” Dougie stuttered between fits of laughter. “Whoopsydaisy? What kind… of a word… is that!?” He panted for breath, face beaming, looking down from the doorway at Tom, who was sprawled across the carpet; his face squashed against the floor.

“S’a word!” Tom stated, trying to lift his head from the floor to look back to Dougie, but finding it a mission to do so. “Get dictionary-ry! Now. Help me up.”

Dougie bent down by Tom, stalling for a second to figure out how he would go about doing this. His body was buzzing and vision was shaky; giving him a strange, empty sense of… happiness. But not. It was hard to explain, and Dougie didn’t want to think too much about it, just incase this feeling disappeared and he returned to feeling strange and empty. Instead, he looped his thin, yet toned, arms under Tom’s stomach, heaving a limp Tom from the carpet. Tom, in his drunken stupor, wasn’t exactly being helpful and let Dougie struggle to lift him to his unsteady feet.

“Right,” Dougie smiled, as he draped Tom’s arm over his shoulders, taking his body weight. “I think I’ll make some coffee.”

Dougie took slow steps as he led Tom into the kitchen. It was fair to say that they had both endured a decent drinking session after Tom’s spot at the club. He came off of the stage beaming, totally proud of himself, even if he didn’t admit to it. Tom’s first instinct was to run over to Dougie, which made Dougie blush whenever he thought about it.

“I did it, Dougie, I did it!” Tom squealed excitedly, almost jumping about. Dougie felt foolish as he did, because he had the strongest urge to burst into tears, but swallowed hard and managed a grin and a nod; gestures of which he now wished he had added to, but hadn’t. Cursing himself for still being so self-conscious and shy.

Harry had then come over to congratulate Tom and offered them both a drink on the house. Tom accepted, so Dougie did, and they both ended up having a lot more than planned. Tom, having had the most, was jolly and laughing, and looking like he was really having a good time. So, even though Dougie knew he should have stopped him once he’d started his and Harry’s second game of shots, he left him to enjoy himself for once. It was so good to see him smile again.

“Dougie?” Tom babbled, as they both reached the kitchen. “I’m. I’m going to…” And with that, Tom slipped quite dangerously across the kitchen tiles and had flung himself over the sink, bringing up most of the evening’s entertainment.

“Never.” Tom declared, a hand rubbing over his pale forehead as he looked down into his mug of black coffee. “Never again. Will I ever. Drink.” He sat at the kitchen table, occasionally taking a sip of his coffee and grunting. Dougie stood at the kitchen sink, grimacing slightly as he cleaned up after Tom. The incident sobering both of the boys up somewhat.

“Hmm, sure.“ Dougie chuckled quietly, but it fizzled after a few moments as he noticed Tom’s bleak expression. His eyes were fixed on the kitchen wall ahead of him, glazed over in deep thought suddenly.

“I don’t want to stop being drunk.” He stated soundly, as his gaze switched to Dougie. “I don’t want to stop being drunk, Dougie.” Tom repeated and Dougie sighed. Tom’s eyes were big and his body was slumped over; oozing vulnerability to Dougie. He wanted to reach out, take Tom in his arms and protect him, but decided otherwise, yet again.

“I know.” Dougie uttered as he turned to face him, cursing himself in his head for not saying something a little more reassuring. He could have sounded a bit more sympathetic, at least?

“I never understood alcoholics, you know. I was never that heavily into drinking. Didn’t see the point unless you were thirsty or if you wanted to stay harm and embarrassment free. And I didn’t see how it solved anything.” Tom looked down to his fingers, busying and tangling them together. “ But it does clear your mind for a while and make you feel somewhat happier, I can see that now. I can see how this is addictive.”

“But… don’t.” Dougie muttered, taking a seat opposite Tom at the table with his own mug of coffee.

“Become an alcoholic?” Tom shook his head. “No. It would only make things temporarily easier, then ten times worse. You haven’t got anything to worry about.” Tom smiled softly to Dougie, who nodded in return. “I wanted to erm. To thank you, Dougie. For being there tonight and supporting me. Talking sense into me and making me do it. So… thanks. It meant a lot.”

“S’alright. Oh!” Dougie exclaimed suddenly, lifting his wrist to look at his watch. “Quarter past twelve. It’s August.” Tom looked at his own watch.

“So it is. Time for another letter.” Tom sighed heavily, almost completely sobered up. Dougie stood up from his chair.

“I’ll leave you to it.” He said, turning around to start to head up to his room when Tom’s hand fastened itself round Dougie’s wrist.

“No!” Tom looked up to Dougie. “Stay with me whilst I open it?”

“R-really?” Dougie blurted, taken back.

“Please.” Tom nodded. “Wait here and I’ll go and get the envelope.” Tom stood up from his chair and headed out of the kitchen. Dougie sat himself down again, daring to let a proud smile creep over his face.

Tom returned a few moments later with the big envelope full of the smaller ones. Again, he poured the contents carefully onto the kitchen table to find the small envelope that read “August”. He took a deep breath, straightening his posture, and with a quick glance to an anxious looking Dougie, he began to attentively tear it open and remove the piece of paper inside. Tom began to read the scruffy handwriting aloud.

“Remember that old blazer of mine you hated? And that necktie? Well, now you can finally see the back of them. I want you to throw out all of my belongings, Tom. You don’t need to keep my clothes or smelly socks to remember me, you have memories to do that for you. Throw out every last thing and get Dougie to help out, too. He always took the piss out of what I wore. You don’t need any of it hanging around, baby. PS, I love you.” Tom sighed, then lifted the piece of paper to his face. He inhaled its smell and felt it rub over his skin.

Dougie swallowed, allowing Danny’s words to sink in. For a brief moment, whenever they opened a letter, a wash of relief swept over his body. As sad and hard as the tasks may be, it felt like Danny was in the room with them for that moment in time.

“Give me an excuse not to do this.” Tom muttered suddenly.

“I… can’t. We… you have to.” Dougie replied.

“We.” Tom stated simply, inhaling deeply. “This is going to be incredibly hard. Worse than singing.” Dougie nodded silently. “Let’s do it now, while I’m still a bit drunk and have some courage to do this.” And with that, both boys made their way up to Tom and Danny’s bedroom.

“Shh, Bolton Wanderers, TV, now!” Danny waved his hand dismissively to Tom, as he sat sprawled out over the sofa, watching the TV intently. He was dressed in his old jeans and Bolton Wanderers t-shirt.

“Danny, I hate football!” Tom moaned, lifting Danny’s legs to sit beside him, lowering them over his own once he was comfortable. Danny didn’t really notice Tom had sat down; his eyes were glued permanently to the screen.

“OH, YOU’RE JOKING!” He suddenly shouted at the television, body lifting from the sofa. “Did you see that, Tom?! That was well offside. Bloody Ref is having a laugh!”

“Danny, I’m bored. Can we watch or do something else?” Tom looked up to Danny.

“Give me twenty minutes, baby. It’s half time in twenty minutes.” Danny muttered, his attention still on the action on the screen.

“Oh.” Tom gave a long, exaggerated sigh. “Okaaaaay.” Danny looked down to Tom, biting his lip, then back to the screen, and then back to Tom again. Tom was slumped, in a disappointed manner, giving Danny his best impression of puppy dog eyes.

“Alright.” Danny gave in, picking up the remote and switching the television off. He plonked himself next to Tom, who was now beaming, on the sofa again. “I can always watch the highlights again tonight.”

“Thank you.” Smiled Tom, cheekily. “Now, tell me why you love me.”

“Well!” Danny laughed, turning his body to face Tom, and pulling him closer. “It’s mainly to do with the fact that you can cook……”

The rustle of a bin bag brought Tom back to present time; sat on his bedroom floor, surround by bags full of everything that Danny had once owned. He held the Bolton Wanderers t-shirt tightly in his hands. Dougie was sat opposite him, placing most of the stuff they had looked at, and were ready to let go of, into a black bin bag.

“Danny loved football, didn’t he?” Tom looked up to Dougie with a watery smile. “But he’d always give it up for me.”

“That’s because he loved you more than anything else.” Dougie smiled back. He noticed Tom was just about to burst into tears at his remark, so quickly changed the subject. “Um, I’ll take these down the charity shop tomorrow, yeah? Well, in a few hours, seeing as it’s 5am already.” Tom nodded in response and Dougie stood up, turning around to place the last of Danny's belongings into a bag by the door. As he did so, Tom silently and quickly crawled over to his bed, whilst Dougie’s back was turned, shoving the Bolton Wanderers t-shirt underneath it to keep for himself. Dougie turned around and Tom slumped hurriedly to the floor, scratching his head in a distracted manner.

“Yep, good idea!” He blurted, deliberately not looking up to Dougie, who was wearing a bemused expression.

“Tom? What-” He cut himself off when he saw the sleeve of the t-shirt poking from underneath the bed, emitting a sigh. “Tom, you can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Not even this one t-shirt? Everything else has been thrown away! Can’t I have one thing? I need it, Dougie, I do.” He took the t-shirt from beneath the bed and held it tightly to his chest.

“I want to keep everything, too. But Danny’s right. If you keep everything of his, it’s going to be harder to let go. It hurts like hell, I know-”

“It feels like we’re completely erasing the fact he ever existed! There will be nothing left to prove Danny was here with us! I can’t do this!” Tom exclaimed, becoming increasingly more anxious. Dougie quickly sat beside him.

“No, no, no… You don’t need things to remind you that Danny was here, he said that himself. You don’t need a football shirt to remember that Danny loved football, or that having it with you will be the only way of reminding yourself of the memories you have of him. You can do that at any place, at any time. You don’t need material stuff. It will only make things ten times harder in the long run.” Dougie drew a breath. “Be sentimental when it comes to your memories, never throw them out. But let go of all of the material things.”

“It’s not going to bring him back, is it? To keep everything.” Tom sighed and Dougie shook his head. “Here.” He handed the shirt over to Dougie, who joined him in another sigh and then crawled over to the last bag to place it inside.

“Okay, well. That’s everything.” Dougie said, sitting down by a bag and leaning back against it, allowing a comfortable silence to fall between the two for a few minutes. Both boys gave each other time to let everything sink in.

“Hey, Dougie?” Tom broke the silencee, lifting himself onto his bed. “That necktie is definitely in there, right?” Dougie was about to shift around to check, when he noticed a small smirk over Tom’s face.

“Yes. Thank God.” He smiled back, watching Tom settle himself on the bed. Dougie folded his arms comfortably and leant back on the bin bag behind him; the remaining alcohol in their bodies aiding them both to fall into a deep sleep.

Tom lifted his head with a short and sharp gasp when he heard a loud knocking sound. He shook his long, ruffled fringe from his face, and rubbed his eyes until the room came into focus. Dougie was sprawled over a bin bag and Tom found himself cocooned uncomfortably in his duvet. The knock sounded again and, with a groan, Tom realised that someone was at the door.

Pushing himself off of the bed and to his feet seemed harder than he had envisioned before he'd decided that he had better answer this, as Dougie made no sign of even a little stir; the effects of last night’s alcohol kicking in. After a few grumbles and stumbles, Tom found his way down the stairs and to the front door, opening it with a yawn.

“Ugh!” Tom exclaimed, the rush of sunlight burning his eyes.

“Not quite the reaction I was hoping for!” Laughed Harry from the other side of the doorway. “Did you forget something last night?”

“I forgot the effects of drinking too much.” Tom mumbled, rubbing his eyes to focus on the barman, who emitted a laugh again. Harry was way too loud to be the first person anyone would want to be greeted by in the morning, especially after copious amounts of alcohol the night before.

“Well, yes, that. And your 'baby'!” Tom’s eyes widened. He was now completely focussed on Harry, who was handing him his guitar; using the nickname that Tom had used, in a joking sense, when with Danny.

“Watch my baby!” Tom remembered shouting at Danny, again. He felt himself zone back into that memory; hearing Danny’s voice singing “Angels” and the feeling of the cushion hitting him again.

“Erm… Tom?” Harry said, yanking Tom back into present time.

“Yes?” His voice wobbled, centring back to Harry who was holding his guitar in its case.

“You left it last night, so I thought I’d bring it back to you. You were brilliant, by the way, the crowd adored you! And what a song! “Angels” is my favourite.” Harry smiled, but soon stopped when Tom burst into tears. “Angels” had been Danny’s favourite song, too. “Oh God, are you okay?”

Tom shook his head, almost crying so hard that he was gasping for air. Harry stepped inside, confidently pulling Tom into a tight hug, letting him weep into his shoulder. Clinging onto the back of Harry’s checked shirt, Tom muffled an apology.

“No worries, mate.” Harry responded calmly. “Let’s get you inside and I’ll put the kettle on.” He closed the door behind them and lead Tom into the kitchen; about to find out what Tom, who had seemed like a mysterious character to him, had really been through over the past few months.

playpretend @ 2005-12-22T20:01:00

2005-12-22T20:02:29Z

Title: All Time Love.
Part: Standalone
Rating: PG - Harmless, with a bit of swearing.
Pairing: FletchJones.
Storyline: Based on the song "All Time Love" by Will Young.
Disclaimer: I own Danny. Still.
Posted in: mcflyslash and mcslash.

Sometimes you walk by the good ones, ‘cause you're trying too hard, too hard to see them.

Danny slammed the front door behind himself.

“Fuckin’ hell, man.” He cursed under his breath, dragging his hands down his ice cold face. He inhaled deeply, releasing his tension with growl-like sigh. The fourth, and final, date he had planned in the current month, hadn’t exactly gone to plan. In fact, it had gone terribly. This girl had put an end to any prospect of a relationship before it had it even taken off. Danny wasn’t gutted, as such; he’d been asked out by all four of these girls and wasn’t particularly interested in them, but he wanted a relationship. Desperately, even, to find that one person. He had hoped that one of these girls would blossom into the “one”. The perfect companion. But no such luck.

“Here.” A voice sounded, causing Danny’s head and eyes to dart to the figure stood beside him. Tom offered Danny a mug of hot tea, as well as a sympathetic and warming smile.

“Oh, cheers, mate.” Danny mumbled, quiet in comparison to his outward self. He took the mug of tea from Tom, gasping slightly at the heat from the china mug on his frozen hands. He gave Tom a small, grateful nod, before plodding towards and up the stairs, closing the door of his bedroom to relax to the dulcet tones of his acoustic guitar. Putting his search on hold until morning.

And sometimes you don't find the right lines, ‘cause you're trying too hard, too hard to hear them.

Danny watched his cheeks in the reflection in his bedroom mirror. They were puffed as he exhaled heavily, releasing some of his stress. Clearing his throat, he began again:

“So, basically, like. Your eyes are real stunnin’ and pretty.” He continued to watch himself, his reactions and expressions in the mirror; assessing what looked good and what didn’t. “Argh, bollocks! Fuckin’ romance, load of bollocks.” He gave up, for what must have been the seventeenth time in the last hour, flopping back onto his bed.

“Beautiful.” Tom stood in Danny’s doorway, leaning against the frame and looking to a sprawled Danny. “Beautiful is a good word to use.” He gave Danny a soft grin, lifting himself off of the frame and disappearing down the hallway.

Danny sat up, looking at himself in the mirror again.

“Your eyes are beautiful.” He spoke, studying himself again. He nodded slowly, mentally congratulating himself on a successfully romantic line.

But you know what it feels like, ‘cause you're like me, and you won't give up. 'Till an all time love, ‘cause nothing else is good enough. I want an all time love to find me.

“I dunno, the melody’s brilliant and stuff, but the lyrics. I dunno. Could be better.” Danny grumbled to Tom, who was sat next to him on a swivel chair in a studio; guitars resting in their arms and a scribbled piece of paper in front of them. Tom nodded, his eyes scanning a combination of his and Danny’s scruffy handwriting, tugging on his bottom lip in concentration.

“Mhm, I do see your point. How about we lose these two lines here?” He pointed to those lines, looking at Danny to read his expression.

“Yup, I think so.” Danny nodded, frowning as he read.

“We won’t stop until it’s perfect.” Tom smiled. “I know what you’re like. I’m the same, remember. We won’t give up until we have perfection. Nothing else is good enough, right?”

“Totally, mate.” Danny returned the smile, before moulding his fingers into the first chord of the song, beginning again.

Danny wanted perfection in every area of his life; from his music, to the way he dresses in the morning. But, most importantly, in his partner. There was no second best, he wouldn’t settle for that. What would be the point? He was determined to continue his quest for that “one”, until that incredible being found him. He was willing to wait as long as it takes for the day that they find him. And that day would be the happiest of his life.

Some days you're too set in your ways, and you forget to shut up, shut up and listen. And some days you just have to misplace all your mistakes, somewhere that you won't miss them.

Danny stepped out a club, leaving the hard beat behind him. Feeling frustrated, again, he rubbed a hand over his face and shook his head. Another night; no true love. Tom soon followed him out.

“You okay, Dan?” He asked, folding his arms in concern.

“Ugh, nah.” Danny groaned. “I dunno what I’m doin’ wrong, Tom. I’ve been in there all night, and no girl has come up to me. Nothing 'fate-like' has happened. Sure, I spoke to some of them, but if they were for real, they would have found me, eh?”

“Well, not necessarily-” Tom began, only to be cut short by Danny.

“I’m fed up of waitin’ and waitin’ for it to happen. What if those girls I’ve been with were the perfect one? Fuckin’ made the mistake of letting them go, when they might have been ‘it’. I’ve made so many bloody mistakes, man. These mistakes keep… comin’ back to me and all I think about is how wrong every date goes. I can’t forget about them, so I act differently and strange, and it puts new girls off, which means they become another mistake! And I’m still stuck waiting for the love of my bollockin’ life to find me.” He rambled, arms flailing about as he spoke animatedly.

“Danny, listen to me. Don’t be so set in your ways of-”

“But this is how it’s gotta happen, man. I’ve seen those chick movies and crap, and it happens when you don’t expect it. That person comes over to you, then you know it’s perfect. That’s the way….” Danny trailed off, slipping into a daydream of what that moment might be like. Tom sighed. Danny was so set in his ways that his true love would find him one day, and didn’t look willing to change his prospective.

So stop lying that you're fine, ‘cause you're like me, and you can't give up. 'Till an all time love, ‘cause nothing else is good enough. I want an all time love to find me.

Danny laid on his bed; a place he found himself more and more often lately. Tom passed his room again, and peered his head in.

“Alright?” He asked with a smile, eyebrows raised.

“I’m fine.” Danny lifted his head, giving Tom a toothy smile. Tom nodded, heading off down the stairs. As he left, he heard Danny sigh, confirming his thoughts that Danny was lying; he really wasn’t fine. He headed into the kitchen, flicking down the switch to boil an already-filled kettle. Tom was similar to Danny. Deep down, he wanted exactly what Danny did. He wanted that special someone to treasure and be treasured by, but there was a difference separating the two band mates; unlike Danny, Tom had already found his “soul mate”. It was only a case of having those feelings returned.

I don't believe that it's a failing, I don't believe that it's a fault. ‘Cause if everything were plain sailing, oh tell me, what would there be left to exalt?

Danny believed that love would come to him. Surprise him unexpectedly, one random day, out of the blue. Whereas, Tom had a different perspective. Whilst he loved Danny’s rather romantic idea, and didn’t blame Danny for wanting it to happen that way, he knew the reality. Perfection, most of the time, doesn’t fall into your lap. It doesn’t appear straight away and then everything is great. It takes work, effort and, in his case, a lot of patience. There will be some searching involved and, perhaps, a little or a lot of heartache, but everything is worth it in the end. All the work would make it special, even more so.

But an all time love, ‘cause nothing else is good enough. I want an all time love to find me. I want an all time love, ‘cause nothing else is good enough. I want an all time love to find me.

Tom found Danny stood by the front door again, after yet another disastrous date. This time, he didn’t feel angry, but drained. Impatiently fed up of waiting for perfection.

“Let me guess?” Tom asked softly, appearing from the kitchen with another mug of tea. Danny removed his jacket, hanging it on the hook beside him. “Not the one?"

“Nope.” Danny shook his head and leant back on the door, sighing out.

“Here you are.” Tom stepped closer to Danny, holding the mug towards him. Danny accepted it, mumbling polite thanks. “Danny, maybe it‘s time to stop waiting around?”

“Mm.” He hummed, whilst taking a sip of his tea. “I guess. Maybe if I stop hoping it will happen, it will. S’pose to happen when I least expect it, right?” Danny was silenced as Tom edged closer, softly touching Danny’s lips with his own for a second, freezing Danny to the spot. Tom stepped back, smiling again to Danny.

“I hope so.” He replied quietly, before turning on his heels and heading upstairs to his room.

Danny watched Tom leave until he had disappeared from sight, with his lips parted in shock. His mind was replaying the feeling of Tom’s lips on his, feeling Tom’s nose brush against his, and the feeling of the heat from his body. Danny’s stomach bubbled over and a nervous lump formed in his throat; his head whirring beyond belief. Something he had never felt after a kiss, or had felt it this strongly, at least. It was totally unexpected and surprising, which made it exactly how he imagined it to be. It was… perfect, you could say. Was this the day that Danny’s All Time Love had found him? The one that was good enough? Well, no. Because he had been there all along. This was just the day that Danny realised this.

playpretend @ 2005-12-11T21:07:00

2005-12-11T21:07:55Z

Title: PS, I love you.
Part: 4/?
Rating: 12 - Deals with the aftermath of a death.
Pairing: FletchJones.
Storyline: Based on the book "PS, I love you" by Cecelia Ahern.
Disclaimer: I own Danny. That is all.
Posted in: mcflyslash and mcslash.

“Hello?” Tom called through the big, stainless steel door. He felt a little stupid as he knew it would be impossible for anyone to hear him, but would feel rude barging in. “I’m… I’m sorry, I know it’s not open time, but… I’d like a word with the manager?” There was still no reply.

Tom stepped back, sighing. He looked up to a big neon light sign reading “Aqua”, the club Danny had mentioned in his letter. At night time, he imagined it to glow a bright blue colour and the walls to be bumping along with the beat. If it wasn’t for the big sign, you wouldn’t have imagined it to be a club, more like a warehouse.

“S’open!” Shouted a voice from inside. Tom’s eyes widened in surprise at the fact he had been heard and stepped towards the door. He moved his ear closer to hear the voice again, just to be sure they were talking to him. “Bugger!” What sounded like a male voice cursed, followed by a series of bangs and crashes.

Tom turned the big handle, struggling a little as he pushed open the heavy door and stepped in quickly, flinching as it slammed shut a little too loudly behind him. The room he had stepped into was dark; the only light coming from the bar, which was where the noises were coming from. He walked towards the bar slowly, craning his neck to peer over it.

“Alright, how can I help?” A dark haired boy popped up, his face a tint of red from rushing around, looking straight at Tom - who had jumped out of his skin in surprise.

“Oh, erm.” Tom cleared his throat. “Hi, erm. I’m Fletcher. Er… Tom Fletcher.”

“And would you like a Martini, shaken not stirred, Mr Fletcher?” The boy’s small lips curled into a smirk, resting his hands on the bar.

“Oh no, I didn’t come for a drink! I don’t want to bother you.” Tom blurted, oblivious to the bartender’s joke.

“Yeah, I was just joking with you, mate. You sounded a bit like ‘Bond, James Bond’, s’all. Pretty funny, and I’d be a little concerned if you came to get a drink at 9am in the morning! But, Tom, nice to meet you. The name’s Harry.” He held his hand over the bar towards Tom. Tom stared silently at it for a few moments, his lips wanting to speak. “Haha, dude, you won’t catch anything. I might smell a bit sweaty and of stale beer after a night shift, but I’m perfectly healthy, I can assure you.”

“Oh. Yes, yes. Sorry.” Tom blushed, lightly shaking Harry’s hand. He looked up to him. He really did smell like he’d been working all night, but could tell from his eye contact that he was a friendly, open character.

“What can I do you for?” Harry asked with a smile, breaking the handshake to continue busily rearranging glasses on the shelves.

“If you’re busy, it doesn’t matter. I don’t want to trouble you.” Tom said, hoping Harry would say he was too busy to talk. He just wanted to go back home and curl up in bed, like he had been every morning at this time.

“I may not be a woman, but I sure as hell can multi-task. It’s what I’ve learnt from being in this business. You get a thousand people shouting their order, whilst you’re running around trying to remember whose drink it is you’re pouring out now, remembering you have to collect their cash, all the while consoling some guy with a glass of brandy as he moans about the wife and kids! Anyway!” Harry caught up his drawn out breath, placing a glass down and leaning forward on the bar again. “Getting carried away. Shoot, mate, what’s up?”

“Heh. I’ve just come to talk about the talent night you have-”

“Yes!” Harry interrupted, startling a nervous Tom. It was already becoming apparent that this boy had a lot to say for himself. “It’s tonight. S’always a laugh, y’know. What about it?”

“Am I on the list?” Tom asked, feeling a little stupid.

“Well, that depends on whether you put your name down in advance. Did you?” He responded, reaching under the till for a black book and opening it.

“Well, the thing is, it wasn’t me who put my name down. My… erm.” Tom looked around the room, trying to make his eyes seem busy as they dared to fill with tears. “My partner did.” He mumbled.

“Oh, I see.” Harry laughed. “Your girlfriend enter you into it for a joke or something? Ha, we’ve had a few of those, so you’re not alone, mate.” Tom found his lip moving on its own according, wanting to reply to Harry and explain, but no noise was coming out. He decided to leave it, as Harry flicked through the black book. “Aha! One “Fletcher, Tom Fletcher” right here. Starts at 7pm and you’re second on.” He looked up with a smile. “Alright?”

“S-second on?” Tom stuttered, tilting his head to look over the list where, sure enough, his name was written. “Did you see who put my name down? Did they come in here and talk to you? What did they say?!” Rushed from his lips.

“Whoa, no, sorry!” Harry raised his hands and eyebrows slightly, noticing a suddenly animated Tom. “My Dad owns this place, so he usually takes the bookings. I thought you said your girlfriend put your name down, anyway?”

“No, you presumed!” Tom snapped, to a now completely bemused bartender. Tom sighed, relaxed and resumed his usual meekly slouched position, fighting back the tears once again. He turned his neck to look back to the door. It was so close that he could make it out of here in a couple of seconds, run all the way home again, lock himself in his room and pretend none of this had happened. But he knew he couldn‘t. He knew he had to stay here. “I… I’m sorry.” Tom whispered, cheeks burning red as he turned back to look at Harry, who was still a little taken back and was watching Tom.

“It’s fine. Even though… I’m not quite sure what happened there; it’s fine.” Harry nodded, smiling warmly.

“I’ll be here tonight.” He sighed, trying his best to smile back, then turning a little too quickly on his heels and pacing towards the door. He felt embarrassed by the whole exchange.

“Yeah, mate, I’ll see you later.” Harry called, as Tom opened the door and left without looking back, just as quickly as he’d come.

The rest of the day passed too quickly for Tom’s liking. He sat on his bed, guitar strap loosely hanging from his shoulders, and his beloved acoustic guitar lying on his lap. He’d been twiddling his plectrum between his fingers for the last hour or so, wondering where to even begin. He’d only got as far as re-tuning the guitar, after it hadn’t been played for a good few weeks, and then had drifted off into his daydreams once again.

“And through it ALL, SHE OFFERS ME PROTECTION,” Danny sang, deliberately off-key, his cheeky grin beaming to Tom. “A LOTTA LOVE AND AFFECT-” Danny halted as Tom stopped strumming the strings of his guitar.

“Danny!” He laughed. “For God’s sake, how am I supposed to play over that racket?”

“I am offended, Thomas Fletcher! That was my best singing voice, thank you very much.” He picked up a pillow from the bed they were both sat on, throwing it in Tom’s direction.

“Oi!” Tom huddled himself over his guitar. “Watch my baby!”

“I can’t believe I am in a relationship with a boy AND a guitar!” He exaggerated, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, play it again.”

“Again?! I’ve played it through five times now, Jones, five times! I can play other things, y’know.”

“But it’s my favourite song! Ever, ever, ever. Please, Tom, one more time and then that’ll be it, I promise. I won’t sing either, I’ll let you sing this time.” Danny fluttered his eyelashes jokingly, causing Tom to emit a dry laugh before sighing.

“Fine, fine. But this is the last time, you hear?” Tom exaggerated a sigh as Danny nodded quickly, taking a firm grip of his plectrum and arranging his fingers into the familiar chords.

Tom snapped out of his memory again, looking down to his guitar. He found his fingers had subconsciously organised themselves, ready to play “Angels”. He swallowed hard; his shaking fingers drawing the plectrum down the strings as he began to play. He didn’t even have to look at the chord changes anymore, after being ordered to play it so many times in previous months. When Danny had been ill, bed-bound, it was all he ever wanted to hear and Tom would sit at the end of the bed, playing and singing softly where Robbie Williams would have, as he watched Danny fall asleep.

His voice was croaky, aching, as he tried to sing, only able to softly whisper the words. Each line had an ironic sting to it. Lines that he didn’t think he’d be able to sing to a crowd without his throat closing up and tears streaming. Right now, an hour or so before he would be on stage, he decided to sing with free-rolling emotion, in hope that it would be released before his spot. His voice grew louder as he let all feeling consume him. The act of crying didn’t need any effort. He found himself completely unaware that tears were flowing, feeling numb to it.

Dougie stopped outside Tom’s bedroom door, thinking twice before turning the handle and stepping in. His bit his lip as he stood for a moment, his skinny posture slumped, listening intently to Tom. He’d always stood outside of Tom’s room when he was singing “Angels” to Danny, too shy to ask to disturb something that was special to them both, but he’d always loved it. He’d sit against the wall, next to the closed door, closing his eyes and completely relaxing to Tom’s soothing voice, and then silently make his way back to his own bedroom when Tom reached the final chorus. He sighed as he heard Tom finish his last strum and gingerly lifted his hand to knock on the door.

“Erm, one second.” Tom wiped his cheeks hurriedly, placing his guitar on the bed, and generally straightening himself up. “Come in.” He continued, clearing his throat.

Dougie turned the door handle and opened the door. He didn‘t step in, but peered around the wooden door, almost nervous about what he might see. He saw a scruffy, red-cheeked Tom, standing by his bed and clearly putting all of his effort into smiling. Dougie immediately looked to the floor as he noticed Tom had been crying again.

“I thought I’d come tell you that, erm, we should probably get going now. Are you ready?” Dougie asked, his eyes busying themselves as he looked around the room.

“Yep, I’m all ready to go. All prepared to sing.” Tom lied, picking up his guitar and pacing a little too eagerly over to Dougie. Dougie stepped to the side of the doorway, letting Tom pass through and make his way down the stairs. He switched off the bedroom light and followed behind him.

“Alright?” Dougie muttered, his hands pushed deeply into the pockets of his three-quarter length trousers, tilting his head to the side to look up to Tom as they both walked along the road to the club.

“Fine. Completely.” Tom stated, becoming aware that Dougie had probably noticed that he was shivering. “Just a little cold.” He felt foolish, seeing as it was quite obviously warm, even for a summertime evening and was therefore a stupid excuse to cover his nerves.

“I would offer you my jacket, but I didn’t think I’d need one. Maybe you‘re just nervous?”

“No, I’m not nervous. It’s only singing in front of a few people, for God’s sake!” Tom snapped and Dougie, as usual, looked back to the floor and nodded silently. “Ugh. I’m sorry. Again.”

“It’s fine.” Dougie smiled, slowing as they reached the club.

“No, it’s really not, Dougie. I-”

“We’re here!” Dougie interrupted, halting another awkward conversation. In front of them was the building Tom had visited earlier in the day. Sure enough, the neon sign was a bright blue colour to suit the name of the club, and a beat could be heard coming through the now-open steel doors. They both looked to one another briefly, before Tom stepped through the door. Inside, the room was dark with a few blue lights dotted around, keeping it light enough to see the people facing the stage, listening to a girl singing some Christina Aguilera song. The bar was bright and busy, with bar men and women pouring drinks, serving the swarms of customers on the other side. Tom’s stomach flipped as he realised how buzzing with people the place was.

“Ah, hello, mate!” A hand fell on Tom’s shoulder, causing him to jump a mile and turn around. Behind him was a grinning Harry, dressed in a smart black shirt and jeans hanging loosely on his hips. “Sorry, didn’t mean to give you a fright. Got your guitar, I see. I thought you weren’t going to turn up for a moment, seeing as you’re on next, after my girlfriend.” He gestured to the stage. “All ready to go?”

“Next!? Erm, yeah. Fine. Totally ready. And stuff.” Tom could feel his face drain of colour and immediately changed the subject to take his mind off what was about to happen. “Not working tonight?”

“No, no, night off, thank God. This place is far too hectic to work two nights in a row. Especially on Open Mic night, like tonight, where we get flocks and flocks of customers.”

“Y-you do? Flocks?” Tom tried to swallow a large lump in his throat.

“Yeah, it’s very popular.” Harry paused for a moment, noticing Dougie and offering his hand to him. “Hi, I’m Harry, by the way. I met Tom this morning and my Dad owns this place.”

“Oh, hey.” Dougie smiled meekly, distractedly shaking his hand as he noticed Tom staring at the stage, completely pale and taking some deep breaths. “Tom, are you-”

“Yes, I’m fine! I need… I just need to go to the toilets for a moment. Where are they, Harry?”

“Go straight ahead along that corridor, and Gents are on the left.” Before Harry could finish, Tom had already bolted off in that direction, with his guitar case strapped over his shoulder. Dougie stepped after him but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. “Give him a few minutes, Dougie, he’s got until my girlfriend finishes. He needs time to prepare himself on his own. Shall I show you to your table?”

Dougie nodded silently, his eyes fixed on the corridor Tom had disappeared down whilst Harry led him to his seat.

Tom burst in through the doors of the Gentlemans’ toilet, finding that, luckily, it was empty. With that, he flung himself to the closest sink, bringing up what little food he had eaten before he left home.

His leant his hands on the sink, coughing and spluttering until his throat felt raw. Tom groaned lifelessly, turning on the tap to wash away the remnants, and lifted his head to look at himself in the mirror in front of him. The pale white colour of his face reflected brightly, almost causing him to squint, and enhanced his big, chocolate brown eyes even more so. They were, of course, drowning in tears and on the verge of over-spill. Determined not to cry again, he cupped his hands under the flowing water of the tap and splashed some over his face. The cold water hit him sharply, sending a shiver down his spine and blood to start rushing back to his cheeks. But still, he looked terrible.

He heard the door to the toilets open with the sound of applause gushing in. Turning around, Tom saw Dougie’s head peering from behind the door; his eyes small with a look of concern.

“Harry’s girlfriend’s finished.” Dougie cleared his throat. “You’re on.”

“Oh God!” Tom exhaled, leaning back onto the sink as his legs turned to jelly. The blood draining from his cheeks again. “I can’t do this.”

“You can, Tom.” Dougie stepped inside, closing the door carefully behind himself. He felt awkward; like a spare part, as he stood on the tiles and looked to Tom.

“That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one who has to sing in front of all of those people. There must be at least 500 out there!” He exaggerated.

“And next up, we have Tom Fletcher! The stage is yours, Tom.” They both heard a man’s voice announce enthusiastically from the stage.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!” Tom cursed, now pacing around nervously in circles. “Dougie, please. Please make an excuse for me. Say that I’m ill. I’ll do it another time, I swear, just not now. I can’t do it now!”

“I can’t.” Dougie said quietly, giving his head a small shake.

“Dougie!” Tom stepped over to him, going to grasp Dougie‘s shoulders, but thinking otherwise. “I get major stage fright!”

“But… this is your dream, isn’t it?”

“No!” Tom shook his head. “Well… yes, but I never told Danny how much I hate singing in front of anyone else. How stupid does it sound if I said that my dream was to break into the music business, but I’m petrified of setting foot on stage!”

“It doesn’t sound stupid at all, Tom. It’s expectable. Everyone’s going to be nervous when it’s their first time on stage.” Dougie said, calmly.

“Tom? Do we have a Tom Fletcher here?” The voice from the stage asked.

“Oh God, I think I’m going to be sick again!” Tom swallowed, going to turn to the sink before feeling a hand placing itself lightly on his shoulder. He looked to Dougie who had stepped a bit closer and whose eyes were fixed on his own hand.

“Tom, you aren’t going to be sick; it’s nerves. Just take deep breaths and it will go. Ignore the guy on stage for a moment. Harry knows you’re here and he’s not going to let it carry on without you, so chill. Just breathe and listen to me, alright?” Dougie almost whispered. His eyes occasionally fluttering from his hand to catch eye contact with Tom, whose body was lifting and sinking from the exaggerated breaths he was taking. “I believe you can do this. I KNOW you can do this. You’re talented and a brilliant singer. Your voice is… amazing. The audience will be amazed! And love you-”

“But how do you know? Have you ever heard me sing?” Tom interrupted, wondering how Dougie knew what he sounded like when he had only sung to Danny before. Dougie blushed a little, remembering that everytime he had heard Tom sing was from the hallway.

“I… erm, I overheard you sometimes. Not that I was being nosy!” Dougie rushed. “But what I’m trying to say is… It’s July 31st, the last day of the month, which means it’s the last chance you have to do this before the month is up and you have another… task thing. Danny obviously believes you can do it. You’ve come all this way; you made a promise that you’d do it. You can’t let him down. Tom… do it for Danny.”

Tom bit his lip, his gaze falling to the floor.

“Okay then, on with the next act!” The boys heard the man announce on the stage. Tom saw Danny's face in his mind. He was laid in their bed, looking up to Tom, grinning away.

"Sing it again!" Danny's voice echoed so clearly in his mind. "Just one more time, Tom." He knew he had to do this.

“Not before I’m finished!” Tom stated, as firmly as he could, stepping away from Dougie and grabbing his guitar case. Dougie’s face lit up.

“You’re going to do it?” He asked, watching Tom rush over to the door of the toilets before he found himself chickening out again.

“Yeah.” Tom nodded, ignoring the weak feeling in his legs and his shaking hands. “Can’t let Danny down, can I?” He gave Dougie a smile before turning on his heels and heading out the door. Dougie smiled to himself, leaning back against a sink, listening to the crowd cheer as Tom must have been stepping onto the stage. He took in a deep breath of air, allowing his body to relax; proud of himself for encouraging Tom to do this. He knew Danny would have appreciated it.

Dougie pushed himself off of the sink and walked out of the toilets. He looked over to the stage, where Tom was fumbling around with his guitar and lifting the strap over his shoulders. Tom stepped closer to the microphone, his face still a shade of grey, and cleared his throat before talking into it.

“Um… hi. Hello.” Tom mumbled quietly. “I’m Tom, sorry for the wait.” He froze as he looked out to the audience; what felt like a thousand eyes were staring at him. He looked ahead, down the small corridor, where he saw Dougie step out and give him a reassuring smile. “This is ‘Angels’ by Robbie Williams. And, erm, it’s for Danny.” He placed his fingers onto the strings to form the right chord and began to strum with his other hand.

“I sit and wait,” Tom sang softly. “Does an angel contemplate my fate…” He continued singing the song that he held so dear to him, whilst the rest of the audience watched and occasionally sang along, giving Tom the confidence to continue. Dougie remained stood at the back; happy that he could finally hear his friend sing without hiding behind Tom’s bedroom door. A proud feeling for Tom washed over him, and he knew Danny would be feeling the same right now. Where ever he was.

playpretend @ 2005-10-22T13:52:00

2005-10-22T12:52:23Z

Title: PS, I love you.
Part: 3/?
Rating: 12 - Deals with the aftermath of a death.
Pairing: FletchJones.
Storyline: Based on the book "PS, I love you" by Cecelia Ahern.
Disclaimer: I own Danny. That is all.
Posted in: mcflyslash and mcslash.

Tom’s eyes sprung open as he heard the gentle knock of his bedroom door closing.

“Danny?!” He called frantically, launching himself from his pillow, his blurry gaze zooming to the door. It remained closed, but outside he could hear hurried footsteps making their way down the stairs.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, pushing he covers off his still fully clothed formed and rushed to the door. Despite the dizzy feeling trying to take over his body, he pulled the door open and called Danny’s name again.

“Erm, no…” A voice barely stuttered back from downstairs, returning his call, but with no appearance of the owner. “Just me. I. I made you tea.”

Tom rubbed his sweaty hands over his face in embarrassment, immediately going back inside his room and closing the door quickly. Wishing that hadn’t happened. He leant back against the door as blood rushed to his head, causing a horrible nauseous feeling in his stomach that was bound to happen after the rush. His eyes wondered to his bedside table and, sure enough, there was his mug placed on a coaster. It wasn’t a wonder that Dougie had rushed down the stairs, probably aware that Tom would react in this way.

He felt his way along the wall, supporting himself as he made his way back to his bed. Scattered across the bed were the envelopes and letters. All were a little crumpled as Tom had spent most of the night just reading the letter and names of the months over and over, but not opening any of them. He wouldn’t break what Danny had asked him to do. Lowering his body to sit back on the bed, Tom sighed. A long sigh. His hands rubbed over his temples as he brought himself back round to reality again. This had almost become a daily ritual.

He’d had the most wonderful dream that night which, of course, involved Danny. It was a reoccurring dream that kept creeping into his sub-conscious every night. Tom had always had a vision, a dream, other than breaking into the music business, which he’d always wanted to fulfil. Ever since Danny had mentioned it.

“Morning, beautiful.” Danny emitted in a gruff whisper, his voice croaky after eight or so hours sleep. He slid his arms around Tom’s waist, who was stood at the bathroom mirror, examining the heavy bags under his eyelids.

“Not now, Danny.” Tom stated. His expression was groggy as he spoke to Danny’s reflection in the mirror. “I’m too tired.” He wriggled slightly, politely trying to shake Danny off but he was having none of it and kept a firm grip on the grumpy blonde.

“Skip work. Let’s go back to bed and sleep all day.” Danny whispered in his ear, between the kisses he was pressing to it. “We’ll relax, I’ll make you breakfast in bed, you don’t have to move a muscle.”

Tom leant his head back against Danny’s shoulder, releasing a long and annoyed sigh into the cold atmosphere of the bathroom.

“Baby,” Tom started quietly. “I would love to, but I can’t. Besides, you have to go to work, too. We really need the money at the moment, seeing as Dougie only works part-time because of college.”

“I’ll call in sick, too.” Danny mumbled, flicking Tom’s earlobe with the tip of his tongue. “Come on, Tom, you know you want to.” His hands stroked down to Tom’s lower abdomen, pressing himself up against his back.

Tom groaned, as his gaze dropped to watch where Danny’s hands were travelling. They moved from his abdomen, down over the front of his hips and then back up.

“God. I. I really don’t want to go. I hate work. I.” Tom muttered, mind fixed on the movement of Danny’s hands.

“When we have enough money, I’ll take us away from here. We’ll go somewhere warm, with beaches that go on for miles and miles. Not too far away, but far enough so we can join the Mile High club.” Danny grinned, watching Tom squirm in his grip. His hands slowly edged closer to the area Tom wanted them to. “Spain, perhaps?”

“Yes! Yes, Spain is good.” Tom spoke quickly, almost standing on his tip toes to make Danny’s hands move further down.

“We’ll laze on the beach everyday.” Danny began. He paused as he let Tom emit a moan as his hands brushed over his crotch. “We’ll do nothing but sip cold beer, listen to the waves, occasionally massage sun cream over each of our bodies.” His fingers began to act out that motion, causing Tom to groan loudly and not be able to form a reply. Danny smirked, licking the side of Tom’s neck as his eyes watched his boyfriend’s reflection in the mirror. “And then, at night, we’ll fall asleep on the beach, with nothing but the sand and one another to keep ourselves warm. I’ll be there, holding you so tightly in my arms the whole time, reminding you how wonderful you are and how much I love you. You’ll have your head on my chest, falling asleep to the sound of the waves and as I stroke down your arms, like you love so much. Just you and I, with no one around for miles. Just you and I.”

Tom felt a tear roll down his cheek and he snapped back into present time.

Last night’s dream had consisted of what Danny had described. They never managed to gather enough money together to go on that break. It had been Tom’s motivation to go to work everyday and put up with the horrid customers and staff members. Danny had been his motivation to get through each day.

He looked to the clock. 18.32! Another day engulfed by his memories and thoughts, that seemed to be his new motivation for getting through each day. Underneath the time on his clock read the date - 27th July. His head turned to look back to the envelopes spread over the duvet. One, he remembered, read “July” and he scanned for it. Tom felt his stomach bubble as he picked it up in his hands. This was the beginning. The beginning of what, he wasn’t sure, but a wave of relief, almost, washed over him. His body felt calm and light as he held this envelope in his hands, his thumbs tracing over the pen lines. This was a part of Danny he was holding in his hands and all thoughts of sadness left his body for a moment. It were as if he were there with him, next to him on the bed, watching over him and waiting for his reaction.

Tom looked to the empty space on the bed next to him, imagining Danny sat beside him with his usual grin plastered on his face.

“Go on!” He would have heard Danny say in his thick Bolton accent. “Open it!”

Tom’s faced ached, desperate to fight off a smile that wanted to spread across it. This moment felt so strange, yet calming. Danny really was here beside him.

His gazed moved from his side and to his hands, just before something caught his eye - his mug of cold tea. Dougie. Danny wanted Dougie to be involved in this and, deep down, Tom really needed someone there with him, despite the fact he would hastily deny that if asked. He sighed again, rubbing his hands over his face. He knew what he had to do.

Meanwhile, downstairs, Dougie was sprawled along the sofa. The television was humming some evening soap in the background, but he wasn’t watching. It was only on to keep him company, fill a space of noise that usually buzzed through the small house. Some couple were fighting like cat and dog on the screen, shouting about some affair that one or the other had committed.

“Fuck’s sake.” Dougie muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes at the stupidity of it all and reaching for the remote to switch the television off. The room fell dark as the only source of light vanished and silence flooded the small area. Dougie inhaled deeply, running out of menial things to do to stop himself from digging into his own thoughts. Time for yet another cup of tea.

He groaned as he pushed himself up from the sofa, yawning and stretching after spending a good few hours moulding himself into that position. His back clicked as he stood on his feet, shaking himself out before plodding over to the door leading to the hallway, opening it slowly. The unexpected light from the kitchen blinded him temporarily. As he regained focus, he could see Tom sat at the table, looking down to him with his usual emotionless stare.

“Tom!” Dougie’s voice squeaked in surprise. “I.. wasn’t expecting to see you there.”

“I want you to be here to open the envelope with me.” Tom declared straight away, pausing for a moment to let his head catch up with what his lips were blurting. His hands were leant on the table, his fingers flicking nervously at the envelope. “Danny wanted to involve you.” Which sounded a lot harsher than intended. “And so do I… of course. I know I’ve been a bastard lately. I haven’t wanted anyone around me, not even my mum. I don’t mean to be like that. It’s just so incredibly… terribly hard. And I’m not saying that you don’t find it hard either! I… you just seem to handling things, keeping on the straight and narrow. I feel like I’m on the… bent and fat…” Dougie gave a small smile, realising that Tom was beginning to ramble. So did Tom, as he let out a drawn out sigh.

“I know how hard it is for you, Tom. I know I haven’t ever been through what you are, but… I lost a best friend, too.” He paused as Tom’s posture visibly diminished into a slump. His face wobbling as he listened to Dougie. “If it helps…” Dougie continued quietly, slowly making his way over to the other side of the table to perch on a seat opposite Tom. “… I’m really not keeping it together. I’m on the bent and fat too! I just have a fucking great talent of being able to bottle it up. You’re so lucky to be able to let it out the way you do. I’ve only cried once!” He felt his cheeks burning red, as he shamefully looked to the table cloth. “I’d do anything to… be able to let it out like you do.”

“It really doesn’t help.” Tom shrugged, continuing to fiddle with the envelope intently. “It feels like I cry every damn second of the day and, believe me, once you start, it’s incredibly hard to stop. All this time I’ve wanted to be like you. Heh.”

“Maybe if we work together, we'll figure this out then?” Dougie smiled comfortingly, looking directly to Tom and having his eye contact returned for once.

“I’m really sorry, Dougie. I really am.” Tom said, meekly. Dougie waved his hands dismissively, gesturing that it didn’t matter. “That’s why I want to involve you in this. Will you sit with me while I read the letter?”

“Of course.” Dougie stated firmly. He took a deep breath as he looked down to the envelope. “Go on then, Dan, what have you got to say for yourself?”

Tom cleared his throat in preparation. He turned the envelope over and slide his thumb underneath the flap, breaking the seal all the way along carefully. Inside was a small piece of paper, folded once, and Tom pulled it out slowly. He carefully placed the envelope on the table and unfolded the piece of paper, all the while Dougie was watching his every movement intently.

“Dear Tom,” Tom began to read. “Dreams are something everyone has but in reality, they’re hard to make come true. I don’t want to see you become one of those people who is forever wishing they did something about their dreams when they were younger, when it‘s too late. I believe you can do it, Tom. You’ve got the talent and the determination, which is something I really love about you.” Tom paused, swallowing hard. Dougie reached his hand across the table, gingerly, patting the top of Tom’s hand that had settled on the table. He looked away from the letter and flipped his hand over shakily, wrapping his fingers around Dougie’s and squeezing tightly, before continuing. It was such a comfort to have each other there for one another at last. “I’ve booked a spot for you for the talent night at Aqua for the 31st July. I know you can do this, Tom, and you‘ll hear from me the next day in your August letter.” His eyes trailed down to the bottom of the page. “P.S. I love you.”

Tom’s eyes shot up to Dougie’s immediately. Silence filled the room for a few moments as the both stared at one another. Allowing Danny’s words to sink in.

“I can’t do it…” Tom whispered.

“But Tom…”

“No!” Tom propelled himself from his seat, clutching hold of the letter, with tears rolling freely. “I can’t go through with this! I never told Danny, but. The reason I never did anything like this before is because… because I’m shit scared of going anywhere near a stage. I hate the thought of everyone watching me and I’ll fuck up and I’m really not that good and-”

“Tom!” Dougie shouted to stop his rambling, pushing himself off of his chair to stand in front of him. He gripped hold of his shoulders and looked directly at him. “This means a lot to Danny, you have to do this! Are you willing to break this whole thing on the first envelope? You promised Danny you’d go through with this, and it’s so important to him. You have to be strong and have some self confidence, Tom! Why would he have gone to all of this trouble if he didn’t believe that you could do it? He said himself that he believes in you. And so do I! We both believe in you and will be there through it all. Every step. You can do this, Tom…” Dougie hardly noticed the tears dripping down his cheeks.

Tom stood speechless, silently watching Dougie’s tears. Without realising, Dougie heard himself sobbing and stood shaking for a few moments, before feeling two arms wrap themselves around him. Tom slowly pulled Dougie closer, tightening his grip around the younger boy as he felt him shivering against him. Dougie’s loose arms slid around Tom’s waist and both stood there for a good few minutes, not saying a word, only crying together.

Over Dougie’s shoulder, Tom looked down to the letter clutched in his hand. Danny really did believe he could do this. He couldn’t let him down. Dougie either. He knew what he had to do.

playpretend @ 2005-09-19T22:30:00

2005-09-19T21:29:38Z

Title: PS, I love you.
Part: 2/?
Rating: For everyone.
Pairing: FletchJones.
Storyline: Based on the book "PS, I love you" by Cecelia Ahern.
Disclaimer: I own Danny. That is all.
Posted in: mcflyslash and mcslash.

Tom closed the front door behind him, falling back onto it in an exhausted state. He rubbed his hands over his eyes and then dragged them down his cheeks, resting his head back against the wooden frame. He inhaled deeply, closed his eyes, and left that hectic day behind him.

“G’evening, gorgeous.” A cheery voice echoed from the kitchen and Tom opened his eyes, to be greeted by a beaming smile and a pair of bright blue ones. He heard the rusty sound of boiling water coming from the kitchen.

“That had better be the kettle boiling, Dan, because I have had the worst day.” Tom groaned, finding himself unable to move due to exhaustion.

“I must be a mind reader, because it is, and they say a cup of tea solves all your worries.” Danny continued to smile, making his way out of the kitchen and over to Tom. “Tell me about your day.”

“Eugh, Dan, it was terrible. The customers are so rude! One of them even started shouting at me. Swearing and everything! And when I went to my boss, to say that I shouldn’t have to put up with this, and he told me to get lost. I hate it there, I really do. I want to quit and work on my music.” He emitted a long sigh.

“Then why don’t you?” Danny asked, stroking his hands rhythmically along Tom’s sides. “You can’t stay in a job you hate, Tom. You only live once.” He leant in, pressing a gently kiss on Tom’s chin.

“I know, Dan, so you keep saying.” Tom huffed. “But it’s not that simple. I need to keep working until I get enough money to do that. I can’t just up and leave. And besides, what if I don’t get anywhere with my music? I’d have to go crawling back to work, beg for my... beg for...” He was silenced by a series of butterfly kisses on his neck. Danny brushed his hands over Tom’s chest, up the smooth cotton of his white work shirt, trailing his kisses up Tom’s neck. Tom tried to finish his sentence, but only managed a quiet moan.

Danny smiled, licking attentively at Tom’s earlobe, gently nibbling as he pressed himself up against him. Tom moved his hands to rest on Danny’s waist, his body relaxing and, soon, all stress escaping from him. All his worries and cares disappearing.

Danny licked slowly along Tom’s jaw line, patterning his tongue round and up to Tom’s lips. He smiled, parting his lips and accepting Danny’s tongue, suddenly finding enough energy to take hold of Danny tightly, and kiss him passionately.

The kettle clicked in the kitchen, signalling that the water had boiled and Danny pulled his lips back from Tom’s, a smirk spreading over his face.

“Tea’s ready...” He murmured quietly, nudging his nose affectionately against Tom’s.

“Screw the tea!” Tom grinned, placing a hand either side of Danny’s head and pulling him back into the hungry kiss.

“Oh... okay. I thought you wanted a cup of tea?” Dougie asked confused, looking from the kitchen to Tom, two mugs in his hands.

Tom opened his eyes, startled. He’d slipped into another memory. He stood up from the door, still clutching the envelope in his hands, and cleared his throat.

“Err... yeah, I do. Sorry.” He said, blushing, embarrassed by what he must have said aloud. Dougie nodded, without making eye contact with Tom, and sat down at the kitchen table. He placed both of the mugs on the table and Tom slowly made his way into the kitchen to perch on the chair opposite Dougie. He sighed as he put the envelope in front of him, eyes still fixated on it.

“I, err,” Dougie spoke quietly to break the silence, looking into his mug of tea. “I didn’t put any sugar in yours.”

“Okay, thank you.” Tom said in a rush, for no particular reason, only that it decided to come out that way. They both fell silent again.

Dougie pulled the sleeves of his long shirt down to his finger tips, pressing his lips together. He straightened up from his hunched position slightly, eyes flicking up to look over to Tom, who reached a hand for his cup of tea. His fingers wrapped around the handle, lifting the mug to press against his lips.

“They say a cup of tea solves all your worries.” Tom muttered quietly, as Dougie looked at him. Tom let a small, ironic laugh pass his lips. “It’s true, isn’t it? You’ve broken up with someone; you put the kettle on. You’ve had an argument; you put the kettle on.” He clears his throat, eyes zoning out. “You have a bad day at work; you put the kettle on. Someone dies...”

The silence returned for a few moments.

“Danny always made the tea.” Dougie stated and Tom’s head shot to him, burning his eyes into him for even daring to mention a memory aloud, but Dougie continued. “I remember the day I moved in here with you two, the first thing he did was put the kettle on. He could see how nervous I was-”

“I know!” Tom raised his voice, placing his mug back on the table. He exhaled heavily and then stretched a hand over his forehead, massaging his temples with his thumb and middle finger. “I-I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, Tom. I shouldn’t have...” Dougie sighed, eyes falling back to the envelope. He found the package being pushed to him all of a sudden, jerking back a little and looking to Tom in bemusement. Tom looked straight back at Dougie. His eyes were big, a lot softer than a second ago.

“Will you open it, Dougie?” Tom asked, the first time he’d addressed him by his name for a while. Dougie took note of this, as his stomach bubbled with feelings of nerves and honour. Tom was placing a serious responsibility on his shoulders, one that Dougie would have expected Tom to push him away from and keep to himself. After all, it was his name on the envelope. But, in light of this being a terrible situation to be in, he felt closer to Tom than he had done for weeks. Months, even. Since everything started. Something that Dougie had needed, had been longing for, throughout. He sighed, almost slightly contented, at the thought that it was Danny who had brought them together again.

“Are you sure? I mean... it says your name. Maybe there’s things that Danny doesn’t want me to read.” He felt he had to question Tom’s choice, despite desperately hoping he wouldn’t change his mind.

“No. Please. I can’t.” Tom stumbled over his words, chewing on his thumb, and leaning back on his chair. Dougie continued to look straight at him. “Please. Do it now before I-. Please, Dougie.”

Dougie gave a nod, taking in a gulp of air and holding it in his chest. He picked up the envelope carefully, treating it like something so fragile and delicate. He turned it over to finger the seal, pinching a corner in his fingers and beginning to peel it up. He could feel Tom’s eyes watching his every move intently, as he carried on until the seal was completely broken. The seal that had last been touched by Danny.

After another glance up to Tom, who gave him a small nod to continue, he turned the envelope upside-down, and carefully let the contents spread onto the kitchen table. Six smaller envelops fell onto the table, followed by a piece of paper that was folded in half. Each envelop had a month written on it and the piece of paper had “open me first” on one of the folded sides.

“Oh God...” Tom trembled, eyebrows furrowing as one of his hands flew to his mouth. “He really did it!” He mumbled into his cupped palm. He lent back in his chair, eyes moving rapidly over the envelopes, from one to the other. His shaky breathes echoing into his hand.

“What... what would you like me to do?” Dougie asked, his voice croaky but remaining composed.

“Erm...” Tom thought, blinking back his tears. “Open the main letter. Read it.” The hand that covered his mouth balled into a fist, bending his wrist slightly to bite on his knuckles. A nervous habit he had picked up from his childhood.

“Dear Tom,” Dougie began. “I think this is the strangest thing I’ve ever written. Apart from my GCSE History paper, because I had absolutely no idea what I was going on about. Probably didn’t help that I spent most of the time at the back of the class. Anyway, I am going off the subject. I bet you never thought I was being serious, eh? But I know what you’ll be like, Tom. You are probably biting at your knuckles. Am I right?” Dougie paused for a moment to look over to Tom, who was still doing exactly that.

Tom cleared his throat, almost to disguise the fact that Danny had indeed been correct, and placed his hands on his lap.

“Carry on.” Tom swallowed, and Dougie continued with the letter.

“So, I decided to go through with this, so you have some knuckles left, at least.” Dougie inhaled deeply before continuing again. “In this envelope, there are six smaller ones. On each of them, there is the name of one of the next 6 months. ONLY OPEN ONE ENVELOPE EACH MONTH! I know how nosy you can be, Fletcher, but don’t even try it! I’ll be watching you, remember!”

“Oh god...” Tom muttered again. He leant forward, resting his elbows on his knees and covering his mouth with his hands. Those familiar tears began to stream once again.

“Inside each envelope is a task. Something I’d like you to complete for me each month. Haha, just call me Big Brother! Joking aside, I do have every faith in you, Tom, that you WILL do them for me. I trust that you’ll keep your promise to me, even if you did think I was joking when I mentioned this before. I want to help you.” Dougie frowned slightly as he noticed a gap in the letter, filled with a few randomly placed scribbles. He lifted the page nearer to his eyes to get a closer look, noticing only what could have been a couple of tear drops underneath the blue scrawl.

“Wh... what?” Tom asked, removing his hands from his mouth, and looking to Dougie with a tear stained face.

Dougie looked back; his lips parted and ready to reply. Danny had always been so strong, and not once throughout the whole ordeal had Dougie seen him even close to tears. His eyes met Tom’s. If a stranger had seen Tom’s eyes right that moment, they would have been able to tell he’d been crying for weeks. Dougie have become accustomed to his puffy, red eyes. It was as if those big, chocolate eyes that once were, belonged to a different person completely. That glance was enough to break Dougie’s heart.

“Nothing. Sorry. I’ll keep going.” Dougie swallowed, trying to keep Danny’s strong image - which he had obviously fought to keep up - alive. He continued from where he left off. “I love you, Tom. I started from the moment I met you, and I will never stop, I can promise you that. That’s why it is so important to me to see you live a happy life. Don’t worry about me. I know I’ll be in a good place right now, watching over you. Please, just follow these envelopes for the next few months. I want you to promise me now that you’ll complete the tasks. I also want you to promise me that you’ll be there for Dougie, too. He needs you just as much right now, even if he won’t admit it. I want him to be involved in this, so you can be there for each other. Please don’t push him out, Tom. I know what both of you are like and he wants to be there for you. Let him be. Also, tell him I love him with all my heart. You were both the best friends any guy could ask for. I had it good. Really good. I’ll leave it here, for now, but you’ll hear from me soon. This month, if I’m correct. Take care of yourself, you. Your Danny, xxx.” Dougie’s eyes trailed down to the bottom of the page. “P.S. I love you.”

There was silence between the pair for a few minutes, complete silence. Neither moved, nor even dared to breathe, but both were aware that Danny had just been in the room with them again. He’d spoken to them both and really was watching over them. It was an unbelievable experience for either to absorb.

Dougie dared to speak, before he was interrupted by the screech of Tom’s chair against the kitchen tiles, as he stood up abruptly. Tom scrambled for the envelopes, snatching the letter out of Dougie’s hand. He was sobbing loudly, panting for breath desperately.

“Tom, please!” Dougie stood up, reaching out to him.

“NO!” Tom’s face boiled red as he shouted, knocking Dougie’s hand away from him, the constant flow of his tears burning against his shiny cheeks. “Just...” He tried to continue, but found himself running out of the kitchen and to the stairs, stomping up them with the letter and envelopes clutched tightly in his hands.

Dougie stood in the kitchen, in complete shock. He’d seen Tom work himself up before, but never to this extreme state. He felt his head spin and his vision fuzz over, as he looked to the floor. The tiles spun around, and he suddenly found himself being drawn closer to them.

Dougie felt his legs buckle beneath him, falling to his knees on the hard kitchen floor. A lashing of pain shot up from his kneecaps, but it didn’t faze him. For the first time in weeks, he felt two warm drops of water hit his pale cheeks, dropping to his lap and staining his trousers. Soon he found those tears falling faster, and more of them developing, until he was curled into a ball under the table, his sobs echoing off of the kitchen walls. Finally emitting his pent up emotions into the atmosphere.

Upstairs, Tom collapsed on his bed, immediately shifting to Danny’s side. The side that he had avoided since it had become vacant. He curled up, pulling the covers over his head and smothering his face into the pillow. He took a deep breath before screaming into Danny’s pillow, screaming until he couldn’t physically make anymore noise. There was still a slight “smell” of Danny locked into the fibres of their bed. He allowed himself to become lost in the bedclothes for a moment, as his breathing began to calm.

He lifted his head, the cold air stinging his eyes and he looked down to the envelopes and letter in his hand. He had an overwhelming feeling that Danny was there with him, in the room. It was a strange feeling but he felt himself physically calm down, feeling at ease. He pulled the contents of his hands close to his chest, hugging it tightly against himself as he rested his head back on the pillow.

“I promise, Danny.” Tom whispered quietly, knowing that Danny could hear him. Where ever he was right now.

playpretend @ 2005-08-26T21:08:00

2005-08-26T20:11:16Z

Title: PS, I love you.
Part: 1/?
Rating: For everyone.
Pairing: FletchJones.
Storyline: Based on the book "PS, I love you" by Cecelia Ahern.
Disclaimer: I own Danny. That is all.
Posted in: mcflyslash and mcslash.

Tom took a long, hard drag on his cigarette; accepting his dirty new habit into his mouth, filling his lungs. He’d adapted quickly for a guy who hadn’t touched one in his whole 20 years. “Cancer sticks”, Danny had always called them. He had to laugh bitterly, giving his head a shake and rolling his eyes in one quick movement.

With the cigarette wedged loosely between his index and middle finger, his hand dangling effortlessly by his side, Tom looked out on the small car park. His eyes wondered to his Mini Cooper. It would only take a few steps and he could drive away from here. He would rather be anywhere than here, right now, except at home. Home was possibly the worst place to be, as it wasn’t even home anymore. His heart had left that house in Finchley a week or so ago.

Tom had deliberately parked the furthest away from the door as possible. He knew what he’d be thinking about; he knew he’d want to escape, and so parked a little walk from the door, in a bid to make it less tempting. Or hoping that, if he did give in, there would be an extra bit of time before reaching the car to try and control his urge.

He exhaled heavily, with smoky breath, looking from his mud-caked tyres, up to his dashboard inside the car. Along the surface, empty cigarette boxes were scattered carelessly. He remembered a time, not so long ago, when his car had been his pride and joy. He’d treasured it more than anything else. Well... almost anything.

“Jones, I swear, if you don’t get your stinking trainer off of my dashboard...” Tom trailed off. His eyes darted from the road to Danny’s foot, burning his gaze into his trainer, in a bid to be threatening.

Danny sat in the passenger seat, comfortably resting his foot on the dashboard, his dark jeans creasing around his bent knee. His heel tapped rhythmically to the music humming from the stereo, as he casually turned his head to look to Tom. His lips curled and parted, revealing his usual mischievous grin, realising he was irritating Tom. He rolled his eyes back to the window he was previously gazing out of, absently chewing on his gum, and deliberately ignoring the blonde next to him.

“Dan, seriously! Your trainers are filthy!” Tom blurted, his eyes twitching from the road to Danny, continuously.

“Alright, alright!” Danny smirked, placing his foot next to his other on the floor. He shifted his body round slightly, facing Tom and leaning a little closer to him. “I’ll be uncomfortable. But you know why I don’t mind?” Danny mumbled through his grin, which Tom could feel the heat radiate from on his cheek.

“Because you love me, I know, I know.” Tom felt a smile creep over his own face. “You’re wonderful and amazing, Danny. So selfless for me.” He said with a sarcastic tone, one of his eyebrows raising slightly, but all the while keeping the smile on his face to remind Danny that, even with the sarcastic coating, his words were true.

Tom felt the hairs on the back of his neck tingle, as Danny stroked the back of his fingers over the crook of his neck. He emitted a small, contented moan, taking a prolonged blink before trying to focus again on the road. Danny’s slightest touch over-powered Tom’s whole body, consumed his every movement and feeling, which wasn’t helpful when driving.

He felt Danny’s warm lips pressing themselves against his cheek, causing him to shift in his seat slightly, as a warm feeling flushed through him. He felt Danny’s tongue flick gently against his skin, leaving it to tingle in the air, as Danny sat back in his seat.

“I do love you, Tom.” Danny said, his smooth Bolton accent much more sincere than it was previously and his smile abandoning his face. “An unbelievable amount.”

Tom lifted his head back sharply, as his mind flashed back to present time. He felt the left side of his face tingling and his stomach flutter, as if that memory had just taken place. It felt so real. But then, recently, all of his memories had. He let them engulf his entire being, reliving every second, leaving him drained. If he’d realised he’d forgotten the most insignificant detail, he’d go back and start from the beginning. Over and over.

“Ouch!” He yelped, eyes darting quickly to his fingers that were holding his cigarette. It had burnt down to his finger, with a small scattering of its ash on the floor. Tom rolled his eyes in annoyance; he couldn’t even enjoy a cigarette. Although, to tell the truth, he never really enjoyed it. It was just something to pass the time and fight off the hunger pangs he received rarely. He hadn’t eaten properly in days and hadn’t wanted to.

Tom lifted the cigarette to his mouth, took one last drag and flicked it to the floor, not bothering to stamp it out. He turned on his heels and made his way back into the church.

Inside, he returned to his seat at the back, behind many heads. Most turned as Tom carelessly let the door swing shut on its own accord, allowing it to disturb the service. He winced a little, wishing he’d been more considerate, and gave an apologetic look to the crowd in front. They soon turned back to the front as Tom settled in his seat.

“Y-You...” A familiar voice stuttered on his words as the smoke, which had followed Tom into the church, choked him slightly. “You alright?” He continued in a whisper, after a couple of quiet coughs.

Tom gave one firm nod, fixing his eyes back onto the spot on the floor he had claimed before. Dougie was never really good at the comforting words and nodded back to Tom in a response, then looked to his lap meekly. Tom had noticed how Dougie hadn’t once cried throughout the last week, let alone the last half hour. He felt such envy at how Dougie had complete control over his emotions and almost seemed to breeze through this quietly. Everyone seemed to have complete control. Everyone except him, that was.

“How are you holding up?” A familiar face asked Tom later on, braving a smile. She picked up a paper plate from the buffet table that Tom had found himself staring at. An array of food lay before him and an empty plate sat in his hands. Tom snapped his head up, forcing a small smile, which shook a little in his attempt to find the right words.

“As expected.” He shrugged. “But you. How are you? How’ve you... been?”

“Plodding through each day. Taking each step as it comes.” She smiled again, seeming so strong, but Tom knew all too well what she felt like inside. She chuckled quietly. “I know those two sentences off by heart now. It’s what’s been rolling off my tongue for the past week whenever anyone asks me.” She leant towards Tom, lowering her voice, smile still remaining. “It’s a way of avoiding becoming hysterical in front of someone, and also a way of stopping nosy buggers from finding out.” She gave a wink, almost cheekily, that brought a smile to Tom’s face. Danny must have got that trait from his mother.

“That’s a good tip. I’ll remember that one.” Tom’s smile faded as he looked back to the food.

“I never know why anyone bothers with food at funerals. It never gets touched and no one ever feels like eating. Although, my Danny would be over here in a shot, wouldn’t he?” She smirked. “You’d have to guard those sausage rolls with your life to keep him away. Loved his food.” She sighed, looking back to her empty plate, but then looked backed to Tom. Her voice perked up to a higher pitch, in an attempt to sound cheery, causing Tom to look back to her. “Which reminds me, I can’t imagine you’re getting fed well at your house. You must come over for dinner one night next week, I insist.”

Tom winced at the thought of a big meal, as Danny’s mum always made huge slap-up dinners. Her face looked into his, so hopeful, that Tom nodded in acceptance.

“Lovely. It’ll be nice to know you’ve been fed.” She said, stroking a hand over his shoulder. She jumped back, emitting an “oh!”, her hand falling to reach into her bag. “You know, I knew there was something else! I don’t know how I managed to forget, but I seem to be forgetting the most important of things lately. My mind just isn’t up to much...” She trailed off and then shook her head, coming back to the point of the conversation. “About a fortnight ago, Danny gave me this.” Tom’s eyes widened immediately at the mention of Danny, focusing completely as Danny’s mum pulled an envelope out of her handbag.

“Danny? W-what is it?” Tom eyed the brown package, which was slightly bulky. His hands desperate to take hold of it.

“It’s an envelope. I can’t help you with what’s in it, but before Danny went for his...” She swallowed. “.. His last hospital appointment, he handed me this. He said to give it to you... after... and not before. I wasn’t sure when the right time was, but maybe now...?” She held it out towards Tom.

He looked over it, lips parted in awe. He stalled for a moment, unsure whether to touch it, as his eyes gazed over the familiar hand writing that read “To, Tom.”.

“What am I supposed to do? I mean,” He shook his head at his simple question. “I mean, do I open it now?”

Danny’s mum took Tom’s plate from his hands, placing it on the buffet table, and replacing it with the envelope, giving Tom’s shoulder affectionate pat after she did so. He looked to her face, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and shock, lips searching for words.

“Take it and open it when you want to. I won’t pry.” Her eyes fell to the envelope, smile struggling to remain on her face. Tom watched her, with an urge to reach out and hug her, but he couldn’t move. She sniffed, blinked, and audibly gulped, before looking back to Tom and smiling again. “So, I’ll give you a call in a few days and organise this dinner. Spaghetti Bolognaise okay for you, sweetheart?”

“Yeah. My favourite.” He tried to feign interest at the thought of a meal, giving a nod.

“Take care of yourself, Tom.” She smiled once more, loosely hugging his shoulders. “As much as it is possible.” She whispered in his ear and pulled away, returning to her family.

Tom watched her walk off for a moment, before returning his attention to the envelope in his hand. The contents of which was last touched by Danny, sealed by Danny. His stomach fluttered, wondering what on earth could be inside. He picked it up, placing it to his ear, giving it a gentle shake, but treating it as delicately as possible.

His jaw dropped suddenly. He'd realised what it was that was contained in this package, why it had been kept from him until this day. Swallowing against the ever increasing lump in his throat, his breath still smoky, a smile came across his face. Danny had done as he’d promised.

He looked over to Dougie, who was at his table in the hall, looking engrossed in his plate of three scotch eggs. He was poking at them, watching them roll around his plate, silently, when Tom strode up to him.

“You don’t like any kind of egg!” Tom exclaimed, causing Dougie to jump out of his daydream and look up to him, sharply.

“Oh, hey!” He cleared his throat once. “Yeah, I know... Mrs Jones got me a plate of food and I didn’t want to be rude, but...” Dougie bit his lip in guilt, nodding his head, gesturing for Tom to look under the table. Tom lifted the bottom of the tablecloth, tilting his head to look under, laughing quietly as he noticed a small pile of food, scattered on the floor.

Dougie sat back, a little bemused. He hadn’t heard Tom laugh for a while, and neither had Tom himself, whose expression turned similar to Dougie’s. Dougie’s eyes trailed down to the brown envelope.

“What’s that?” Dougie’s voice croaked, breaking the awkward silence that had begun to grow between them both.

“Danny’s promise.” Tom stated confidently.

“Danny’s prom...” Dougie started, before his eyes bulged and his voice became a lot more certain. “Danny’s promise? As in...” He was silenced by a nod from Tom. “Oh my god!”

“I know,” Tom sighed and repeated. “I know.” He held the envelope tightly to his chest, as Dougie’s eyes wondered over it. He didn’t want anyone else to touch it, even Dougie, his best friend. The pair stood in silence, the same thoughts running through each of their heads, letting the past few moments sink in. Danny had kept his word by leaving this envelope for Tom. He’d promised weeks ago that he’d do this, but neither of the friends believed he would. It started as a joke, almost, but there it was. Materialised. Resting safely in Tom’s arms.

“What are you going to do? Are you going to open it now?” Dougie asked, breaking their thoughts.

Already, this was becoming the longest conversation that Tom and Dougie had held since Danny had died. Tom had kept himself to himself, locking himself in his room for the majority of the time leading up to the funeral. He had pushed everyone away – his family and friends – choosing to deal with his grief on his own. Dougie had been too polite to interfere.

“Come with me?” Tom muttered meekly, his eyebrows raised. He almost felt shy in front of his friend that he’d lived with for two years.

“Yeah,” Dougie quickly stood up from his seat, before Tom had the chance to change his mind, shutting Dougie out again. “I’d like to be there.”

“Okay then,” Tom took a deep breath. “I’d rather not do this here. Mind if we go?”

Dougie shook his head and grabbed his jacket. The pair went around the hall, saying their goodbyes to everyone, apologies for leaving so early, and headed out to Tom’s car.

Tom woke up that morning dreading the day ahead, never imagining that he’d come away feeling like this. It wasn’t as though he was happy. He knew it would be a while until he could admit to feeling happy again, but he felt a new, overwhelming sense of love. This envelope proved that, even now, Danny had truly cared for Tom. He felt loved. Special, almost, because there was one thing that Tom was leaving with, that nobody else in that room would be. And that was a part of Danny; that it wasn’t time for him to say goodbye to him just yet. A feeling that Danny would remain with him, for the next few months, for certain.