Love Is A Battlefield (Alan Wilder x Martin Gore)

11: Truth On My Side

Two weeks later, November 5th, Copenhagen, Denmark, 9:24am, the hotel:

Splashing water onto his face, Dave attempted to make himself look presentable and like he hadn't just finished vomiting. His face was gaunt and pale from not having eaten a substantial meal in days, as he struggled to keep anything he ate down. And he had such little energy that he hadn't even bothered to shower, and his hair was greasy and knotted. In all his life, he had never felt so sick. But he kept it all to himself, for Alan and Martin had plans with Poppi and Esme in the approaching evening and he didn't want to ruin them.

"Uncle Dave, Daddy needs to take a shower." Poppi knocked on the bathroom door.

He unlocked and opened it, smiling at his niece.

"Sorry, Poppi, your Daddy can get in here now."

"Thanks, I'll go tell him!" She skipped away, and as she did, he went to lie down on his side of the bed, curling up and shutting his eyes.

Soon enough, Poppi's presence was replaced with Alan's, towels in hand. Dave felt too debilitated to say anything; he continued to lie there, still and silent. His sickness was impossible to hide.

"I won't be long, I just need to- Hey, what's up with you?" Alan hesitated, going over to the bed.

No response. No acknowledgement.

"Or give me the silent treatment." He rolled his eyes.

"Not feeling the best, Alan." Dave sniffled.

"Well, that's nothing new, you haven't been feeling the best for a while." His bandmate firstly snapped, but his perspective changed after listening back to his sentence in his head. "But, erm, maybe you should arrange to see a doctor?"

"I don't know. They'd probably put me on a medication I wouldn't be able to stomach anyway." He grabbed a pillow from where it leaned against the headboard and buried his face into it.

"I would've guessed a stomach bug or food poisoning a few weeks ago, but you definitely would've recovered by now..." Alan passed him a hair tie to secure his hair up. "Esme has this upset stomach medicine because she's a bit sensitive to dairy; do you want me to go and pick something like that up for you?"

"N-No, thank you. I just want to lie here." He closed his eyes.

"Alright, well, if you need anything, I'm just in the shower and everyone else is through in the other room. I'll see you in a bit." Alan began leaving for the shower.

Now he was alone again, Dave rolled over to lie on his back and stared blankly at the ceiling. In spite of Alan's presumptions, he knew that it surely could not be down to a simple ailment. It felt like so much more. Something wasn't right, he thought, not right at all.

He continued to rest there for a few more minutes before finding the energy to hoist himself up from his bed. He felt dizzy and faint to stand up but fought through the feeling, gradually finding himself outside the hotel's front doors. Not knowing where he would go, he began to walk down the street. Before long, he reached the drugstore.

~~~~~
Eight hours later, 5:54pm, the hotel:

"Mart, do you have a minute?" Dave tapped Martin on the shoulder.

Martin looked away from what he were doing and gave him a slightly confused look.

"We're leaving soon, but I've got some time to spare. What's the- Oh-" He didn't get the chance to ask of the problem before Dave grabbed his hand and dragged him into the corridor.