Oneshots and Other Things

No More ~ Part 1

Tried to cure my writer's block and as per usual it ended up very angsty. I don't normally write things with unhappy endings so I'm not sure how part 2 will go yet - open to hearing people's preferences for positive/negative endings :)

Warning: mentions of suicidal thoughts/plans (non-graphic)

(*~*)

Stephen never thought he'd have to write a note like this. Even when he first puts pen to paper, he feels far too raw and vulnerable committing anything to a medium so permanent; someone will actually read this, probably; and he sits with the pen tip pressed into the paper until it makes a hole but doesn't write a word.

He has time to think about it. Too much, in fact. He has too much time always – too much time to think about everything. That's why he's ended up like this – too far in his own head to see any other way out. And he can pretend that no one else will mind because he's put some distance between him and everyone else. Everyone except the two of them, who won't get the message and leave him be.

Everyone else will probably think it's a shame if he goes through with it but they might say they saw it coming. Not them, though. Stephen has had to keep up a façade with both of them because he hasn't been able to erase himself from their lives. They still get the version of him that turns up at work and delivers lines with a well-practiced ease to cover up the constant stream of thoughts berating his every movement, picking apart every little mannerism that an audience might see and mock. They don't see the side of him that has become isolated from everything else in his life, withdrawing to make leaving altogether that bit easier.

It would be easy, at this point, were it not for them. He wishes he could just take their joking insults to heart, convince himself to hate them. He wishes he didn't see the fondness that pours from every teasing prod and nudge. He wishes they wouldn't care if he were gone.

For some reason, he decides that he can solve all of his problems if he leaves them a letter. Any sort of explanation will do. Anything to convince them it wasn't their fault if they didn't realise. Anything that tells them he had made his mind up and nothing was going to change that.

A small voice says they won't believe him, no matter how much he puts in writing. They will beat themselves up until the end of time.

Stephen tries to listen to the overwhelming part of him that has decided no one cares enough to do that. Ant and Dec will get on with their lives. After all, they've got each other and they don't seem to need anyone else. He's replaceable on their shows – he's not special.

It's the third night in a row that he has sat down with a blank sheet of paper and not got much further than writing 'Dear'. It doesn't bode well that he can't even write their names but he encounters a dilemma with that simple task before he even considers what to write afterwards.

They're Ant and Dec to most people – professionally, at least. A large part of Stephen's career has steered him towards being the 'and' because they've included him in more of their projects than they haven't at this point. They've kept him around which only makes him wonder if they're awful judges of character.

But at the end of a long day of filming for BGT, in the back of a theatre in a city none of them are familiar with, Stephen is used to being commandeered as a pillow. Then, Ant is more likely to be Anth and Dec is only ever Declan. And they'll call him Stevie because that is all they ever call him off-camera, always paired with a smile that cuts into him when he's feeling down. Too much care. Too much connection.

On night three he commits. This is a letter between the three of them, like those tired moments backstage.

Dear Anth and Declan,