Ant and Dec One Shots

Repairing The Bond

The weeks blended into each other, a blur of creative energy as Ant and Stephen dove into their latest project. Their drive was palpable-late nights bled into early mornings, animated discussions turned to shared laughter, and the thrill of creating something new together electrified every moment. Dec watched from the sidelines at first, a warm smile lingering as he admired the bond blossoming between his best friend and Stephen. Seeing their enthusiasm light up the room filled him with pride, but also with an ache he couldn't shake.

At first, Dec brushed it off, telling himself he was being silly. But each inside joke he wasn't a part of, each late night that ended without him, carved deeper into the loneliness he tried so hard to ignore. "Next time, Dec," Ant would say, or Stephen would smile and promise, "We'll make time, I swear." Yet, with every dismissal, he felt himself fading into the background. Meals went untouched, his laughter grew forced, and the once warm spaces of his flat felt colder, emptier, as the vibrant world they shared seemed to leave him behind.

Though the loneliness gnawed at him, Dec kept up appearances, masking the emptiness with a practised smile. He convinced himself that as long as Ant and Stephen were happy, he'd find a way to be content too. But performing on Saturday Night Takeaway, which had once been his refuge, started to feel hollow. Every laugh seemed strained, like he was watching himself from far away, trying to push through a growing fog.

Then, during a commercial break, the weight became too much. His vision blurred, and nausea tightened in his stomach. The edges of his vision began to darken, like ink spreading across a page. His head spun, the sounds around him muffling as nausea twisted and rose inside him. His heart pounded, quick and weak, and a chill spread from his fingertips to his chest, making it hard to breathe. His fingers found a table edge, clinging as his knees buckled. He fought to keep standing, to stay steady, but his legs gave way, sending him down as the world around him dimmed to black.

The last thing he heard was Ant's voice, sharp and terrified, cutting through the haze just as he felt hands on his shoulders, catching him before he hit the ground. The voices around him were muted, almost underwater, and he struggled to lift his head, managing only a weak, forced smile. "Just a bit dizzy... I'll be fine," he mumbled, the words slipping out in a voice so faint he barely recognised it. He tried to stand, to wave them off, but his body stayed limp, every part of him aching in a way he couldn't ignore any longer.

In that fleeting, vulnerable moment, Ant saw everything-the exhaustion, the loneliness Dec had buried, the pain that had slowly crept in while no one was looking. As Dec's vision cleared enough to meet his friend's gaze, he saw the shock and sorrow in Ant's eyes, a glimpse of the guilt he hadn't intended to cause.

That night, Ant sat in his darkened flat, memories replaying in painful detail. Every time Dec had been brushed aside, every missed opportunity to include him-they all haunted him now. He wanted to call, to apologise, to undo the weeks of neglect, but words felt inadequate. Across town, Stephen wrestled with his own guilt, staying late at work as he replayed the last few weeks with a heart heavy with regret. The weight of their collective blindness hung over them both, leaving them reeling in quiet shame.

By morning, Ant knew he had to act. Determined to make amends, he showed up at Dec's door, takeaway bags in hand. Dec opened the door, his expression wary but softened by the concern in Ant's eyes. Their initial conversation was stilted, words laced with unspoken sorrow, but Ant persisted. Each day, he returned-sometimes with meals, sometimes just to sit beside Dec in silence, letting him know he wasn't alone. Slowly, Dec began to let Ant in, piece by piece, their shared silences gradually giving way to laughter and quiet moments of vulnerability.

"Hey, Dec," Ant said softly, a tentative smile tugging at his lips. "I brought your favourite. Figured we could, uh, talk? I've been thinking a lot about the last few weeks..."