Ant and Dec One Shots

Dec's Struggle For Trust

Dec had always been the life of the party, the one to break any silence with a laugh or a playful jab. But lately, he felt like he was fading away, like a photograph left too long in the sun-frayed around the edges, his brightness slipping. Ant and Stephen seemed to share a rhythm he no longer felt a part of, lost in their laughter over inside jokes and plans that didn't always seem to include him. Each tiny moment of exclusion was like a small stone added to the growing weight in his chest, and he wondered if anyone even noticed his silence.

It wasn't like them to leave him out-at least, it never used to be. But now, he felt like a stranger on the show he'd poured his heart into from the start. Nights dragged on, rehearsals felt hollow, and even their casual chats left him feeling colder, the words a reminder of how far he felt from the people he loved most.

One evening, after a gruelling day of rehearsals, Dec found himself staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, exhaustion weighing on his face. His eyes were dull, the dark circles beneath them a reminder of sleepless nights that never seemed to end. He felt hollow-like a shell of himself. As he splashed cold water on his face, his hands trembled. He wasn't sure if it was from the stress or the nausea that had been steadily building, but he couldn't ignore it anymore. The weight on his chest was becoming unbearable, a constant pressure that made breathing feel like an effort.

Then, there was the night everything shattered. The rehearsals had been long and tiresome, and by the time they hit the stage, Dec's body felt like it was running on fumes. His vision blurred, his head ached with a deep, pulsing pain, but he smiled through it. The audience never knew. He couldn't afford to show weakness.

They were live on Saturday Night Takeaway, in a high-energy "Ant vs. Dec" segment. Dec had been feeling faint all day, barely able to get through rehearsals, but he forced himself to smile for the cameras, his laughs masking the exhaustion that crept deeper into his bones. The stage lights were blinding, each one more oppressive than the last. He tried to focus on the routine, but the bright lights and roaring audience felt distant, as though he were watching from underwater. His legs felt unsteady, and a dizziness swirled inside his head, but he kept pushing, hoping it would pass.

Then, without warning, his vision narrowed, colours bleeding to black around the edges. He stumbled, his knees buckling beneath him. The last thing he saw before collapsing was Ant's face, eyes wide with shock, and Stephen's hand reaching out, their worried expressions the last thing he registered before everything went dark.

When he finally stirred, he found himself lying on a couch backstage. A cold glass of water sat beside him, untouched, and above him hovered the two faces he'd been most afraid to look at, expressions lined with panic and guilt.

"Dec," Stephen's voice was unsteady, raw with worry. "What happened? You scared the hell out of us."

But Dec didn't have the strength to explain. Not now. Not when the aching weight in his chest felt heavier than ever. He tried to sit up, feeling a wave of dizziness wash over him. His head spun, his body trembling with exhaustion, but he brushed it off. It had to be just the flu-nothing more. He couldn't let them know how much he was struggling.

"I'm fine," he muttered, forcing a smile as he reached for the glass of water. "Just tired. Didn't mean to cause a scene."

Ant's expression tightened, but he said nothing, glancing over at Stephen who remained silent, both of them unsure what to say next.

Dec's heart ached as he stood and returned to the stage, his limbs heavy, his mind in a fog. The hollow smile he gave the audience didn't feel real anymore. It was a mask he wore to hide the crushing weight of his inner turmoil. His voice was weak as he apologised for the 'minor slip,' but inside, he felt like a shell. This wasn't just exhaustion-it was a breaking point, and no one seemed to notice.

Backstage, the tension was palpable. Ant and Stephen tried to talk to him, but Dec's defences were up. Every word they spoke felt like pity, like an unwanted reminder of how fragile he had become. And for the first time in a long while, he snapped.

"I know what you've been saying about me," he hissed, his voice shaking with a combination of frustration and hurt. "Laughing at how 'needy' I am, rolling your eyes every time I try to speak. I'm fine. I don't need anything from either of you."

Stephen's eyes widened in shock, and Ant paled, but Dec didn't wait for their response. The words spilled out before he could stop them, and the weight of them lingered long after he stormed off. His heart hammered in his chest as he walked away, the anger mixing with guilt and a deep sadness. He wasn't ready to face them, not when he couldn't even face himself.

The days that followed were thick with tension. Dec threw himself into his work, a polite distance in every word he shared with them, leaving Ant and Stephen uncertain and helpless. The worry in their eyes was obvious, their guilt unmistakable, but he wasn't ready to let them back in. The walls around his heart had grown too strong. He couldn't let anyone in. Not when every attempt to connect felt like it would only lead to more disappointment.

Ant found himself choosing his words carefully, speaking softer, watching Dec as if he were a wounded animal that might bolt at the slightest wrong move. Stephen, too, had softened, his playful jabs held back, his tone gentle, always wary of upsetting Dec further. They tiptoed around him, desperate to repair what was broken but unsure how to reach him.

Weeks passed, and Dec's polite distance never wavered. His warmth was a faint memory, and the laughter that had once brought them together felt hollow and far away.

One night, after another long day of rehearsals, Dec sat alone in his flat, his mind racing. He'd tried to keep it together-tried to focus on the show, on the work that had always been his escape-but it was too much. His body felt like it was failing him, the weight of his unspoken fears dragging him further down. He sat on the edge of his bed, hands trembling as he pulled his knees to his chest. His breathing was shallow, and he closed his eyes, feeling the darkness close in once again.

Finally, after months of silence, Dec sat them down, one by one. He spoke softly, his voice no longer sharp with anger but gentle, though still weighed with the scars of their rift.

"Look," he began, glancing between them. "I appreciate the way you're trying to be careful around me. But I want things to go back to the way they were. I don't need you to walk on eggshells."

Ant's relief was almost visible as he gave Dec a small, hesitant smile. Stephen, beside him, gave Dec's shoulder a gentle squeeze, and for the first time in a long while, Dec felt the warmth of their friendship flicker back to life.

Months passed, and though the hurt had faded, its shadow lingered. Then, late one evening, there was a soft knock on Dec's door. He opened it to find Ant standing there, his face pale, eyes shining with an emotion Dec hadn't seen before.

"Ant?" Dec asked, stepping aside. "What's going on?"

Ant didn't speak right away, his hand shaking slightly as he gripped the door frame. When he finally found his voice, it was a whisper, raw and broken. "Dec, I... I was so scared. When you collapsed, I thought... I thought I'd lost you. And it wasn't until then that I realised how much it hurt you. I was so blind, Dec. I was so blind, and I hate that it took that moment for me to understand."

Dec's heart twisted, and he pulled Ant into a tight embrace, holding him as his friend trembled. He didn't need to say anything; the weight of those words was enough. It was the first time in months that he allowed himself to feel truly seen, and it cracked open something inside of him he hadn't realised was still there.

"You didn't lose me," he murmured, his voice filled with quiet strength. "We've been through too much together. I'm still here, Ant. And I'm not going anywhere."

They stood there in the dim hallway, wrapped in the fragile understanding of two friends who had been shaken to their core. Their friendship had been battered, but standing there, Dec knew that together, they'd rebuild it-stronger than before. This time, no one would be left behind.