A Silence Between Us

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Ant, Dec, and Stephen had always been inseparable. The trio shared everything: laughter, tears, triumphs, and quiet times together. Their bond, built on years of unwavering friendship and deep affection, felt unbreakable. But recently, something had shifted. A shadow lingered in their conversations, growing silently between them, and Dec felt it most. It wasn't something anyone had planned; it was just... happening. But each day, it became clearer: every laugh between Ant and Stephen that was a touch too intimate, every glance shared between them, and every evening Dec spent sitting alone chipped away at his sense of belonging.

He tried to shake it off. He told himself it was just a phase, that the closeness he missed would return. Yet, day by day, the feeling grew stronger, leaving Dec feeling like an outsider. When he invited them to hang out, he noticed how their responses felt lukewarm.

"Not tonight, mate. Stephen and I were going to watch something," Ant said one evening, and for the first time, that casual "mate" stung. He couldn't remember the last time Ant had called him by a nickname with warmth in it, the way he used to.

"Sorry, Dec, we've got plans," Stephen added, his tone friendly but awkward. Dec could see the hesitation in his eyes, as if Stephen knew how much it would hurt but couldn't stop himself from going along with it.

At first, Dec hid his disappointment. He swallowed down the hurt, telling himself not to read too much into it. But as each rejection stacked up, his confidence chipped away, leaving him feeling smaller, less significant. And then, finally, Dec stopped asking altogether. He convinced himself it was for the best, that maybe they wanted time alone. So he threw himself into work, staying late into the night, telling himself that at least work needed him, even if his relationship felt like it didn't.

He could hear their laughter in the background, muffled through walls that had once brought them closer but now seemed to shut him out. He could picture them curled up in bed, sharing secrets, perhaps whispering words that had once been meant for him too. The cozy refuge of their shared space felt like a distant memory.

He stopped sleeping in their bed, choosing the worn couch instead. It wasn't comfortable, and he had no blanket or pillow. But it felt easier than facing the empty feeling he got in bed beside them. Soon, he stopped asking for their affection entirely. The soft kisses and hugs he used to cherish felt too painful to request now, and he convinced himself that he didn't need them anyway.

As the weeks passed, Ant and Stephen started to notice the changes. It was in the way Dec's movements had become rigid, his shoulders tensed as if bracing for something to go wrong. It was in his face, where the once-bright smile had faded to a polite expression, his eyes distant and dull.

One night over dinner, Ant observed Dec more closely than he had in weeks. He noticed the stiffness in Dec's jaw, the way his fingers tapped against the table absentmindedly. The man who had once been full of laughter and mischief now seemed so... worn, as if he were slipping away.

"Dec," Ant said, his tone soft but serious, as he reached out to touch Dec's arm. "Are you okay?"

Stephen joined in, his eyes full of concern. "You've seemed so distant. Is everything alright?" he asked, his voice gentle, almost hesitant.

Dec forced a smile, barely convincing even himself. "I'm fine," he replied, his voice tight. "Just... busy with work." He shrugged, trying to brush it off, and barely touched his food. His hunger had faded along with his desire for company, and he cleared his plate almost untouched. "I've got a lot on my plate," he added, excusing himself before either could respond.

For a long while, Ant and Stephen tried to reach him, to ask him what was wrong. But every attempt felt like it only pushed Dec further away. He retreated further into himself, his heart aching with the certainty that he was no longer wanted, no longer needed.

It wasn't until one night, when Stephen was away rehearsing for his show, that Ant managed to get through. Dec was at his desk, lost in the endless cycle of work that had become his escape, his distraction. Ant slipped into the room, watching the familiar slouch in Dec's posture, the way his hand trembled slightly as he held his pen.

"Dec..." Ant's voice was soft but firm. He reached out and gently took Dec's hand, stilling it. "Please, talk to me."

Dec's shoulders sagged, his defences crumbling. For the first time in weeks, he looked Ant in the eyes, his own eyes hollowed by sleepless nights, exhaustion, and unspoken fears. "I feel like I'm fading," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "Like I'm just... here because you two don't know how to tell me it's over."

Ant felt his heart shatter at Dec's confession. He gently cupped Dec's face, brushing a tear from his cheek. "Dec, you're not fading," he murmured, voice thick with emotion. "You're everything to us. I'm so sorry if we made you feel that way. You're not replaceable. You belong here, with us."

"I'm not like you and Stephen," Dec continued, his voice barely steady. "You two have something so close, so easy. And I just feel like I'm... in the way." He let out a shaky breath, eyes downcast. "When was the last time we even shared a moment, just the three of us? The last date, the last movie night? I can't remember. And I can't keep wondering if I matter to you anymore."

Ant's chest tightened with guilt. The painful realisation hit him: he had let Dec slip through the cracks, taken for granted that he would always be there. Wrapping his arms around Dec, Ant held him tightly. "You're not in the way. We need you here with us," he whispered, his voice thick with regret. "We just... forgot to show you. But we'll make it right. I promise."

The following days were a slow, difficult process. Dec still retreated to his desk often, still tried to sleep on the couch. But each time, Ant or Stephen would find him, gently coaxing him back to their bed. They took turns pulling him close, wrapping him in warmth, kissing his forehead as if to reassure him that he was wanted, that he was needed. On nights when Dec felt anxious, lost in his doubts, they would take his hand, squeeze it gently, and remind him that they loved him.

Meal times became reminders too-Stephen would gently encourage him to eat, offering him bites, making light-hearted jokes to coax a smile. They introduced weekly movie nights, where they'd choose Dec's favourite films, wrapping him in blankets, pulling him close. Sometimes, Dec felt overwhelmed, struggling to accept these gestures, feeling he didn't deserve them. But Ant and Stephen were patient. They never pushed, always waiting for him to relax into their embrace.

The healing was slow, and Dec had moments where he doubted everything. But gradually, bit by bit, he felt the walls around his heart start to crumble. Every soft kiss, every gentle word, every shared laugh brought him closer, made him believe, little by little, that he was truly a part of them.

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