Cold Water

The Aggression

Returning to Britain's Got Talent didn't feel like reality until the show itself was back on TV. In Stephen's mind, the upcoming episode later that evening merely symbolised the start of a countdown that he secretly didn't want to hit zero.

It made no sense, really. He was the only person who had asked for this. There had been no pressure from ITV to get him to return; maybe even negative pressure, if such a thing were possible, because him not being there meant they wouldn't have to deal with the backlash if it all went wrong. Surprisingly, no one except Stephen seemed to be bringing up the possibility of it going wrong at the moment.

That didn't mean he believed that no one was thinking it.

Ant and Dec seemed too upbeat about it, although both of them refrained from talking about it too much. Stephen wondered if they'd caught onto his trepidation the first few times and decided not to add to his stress. But he also thought they'd have pulled him up on his nerves if they'd noticed them because they were no longer in the habit of letting him brush this sort of thing under the carpet.

Back before the accident, he'd been used to letting their innocent questions draw out more honesty than he had planned if he ever got cornered and had to talk about how he was feeling. It was never anything serious – just stress or fatigue that he'd rather keep to himself – but the pair of them had a way of making him talk. They'd always stop at the point where he backtracked or overcompensated with a joke though; they knew when he reached his limit.

Ironically, now he had a lot more to contend with when he was reaching his limit – namely the way his vocabulary seemed to shrink into a series of stumbling consonants – both of them tended to insist that he continued to explain himself.

Not with BGT, though. It was as if everyone else thought he could do it. But that didn't make sense.

He always treated the auditions shows as good revision for the live finals, watching them to remember the acts who he would have to be able to talk about when they performed in the semi-finals. That didn't always extend to watching More Talent, unless he could remember something funny that he wanted to see again. The strange detachment of watching himself from a few months earlier usually chased off any desire he had to relive a particularly entertaining contestant.

This year, there were even fewer reasons to turn over to ITV2 after the main show had ended. He didn't know when the accident was going to be addressed, although a very hesitant email exchange with his agent had confirmed that it would. Probably on ITV1, he'd assumed, because no one was going to miss an opportunity to pull in those sorts of viewing figures on the main channel.

Ant had mentioned an increase in news articles dragging it all back up again recently. It had been a passing comment with a poorly hidden grimace to match. Stephen still hadn't worked out if the expression had been aimed at him or not. Ant, like Dec, didn't seem keen to engage with the media storm that had never really let up against the show. Equally, Stephen's admission of reading a few of the articles probably had Ant on high alert, hoping he wouldn't give a repeat performance now that there was more material.

He was fairly sure it wouldn't be shown on ITV2, though. So, the first BGMT show of the series seemed harmless. Except for the fact that he hadn't thought about how different everything was now.

Before it got more than three minutes into the first interview, he muted the television, then switched it off as if both actions would somehow create more distance between him and the show. He was on his feet before he thought about it, pacing out into the hallway, then to the kitchen in search of a glass of water.

He didn't notice his hands trembling until he was reaching for a cup, aborting the gesture and clenching into a fist instead, willing himself to calm down. Overwhelmingly, he was angry at himself for watching in the first place, his thoughts berating him for ever thinking it would go well. He tilted his forehead against the cabinet in front of him, letting out a frustrated growl.