One Song (A Script fanfic) (Completed)

Chapter 9

Here's chapter 9! Wow, almost double digits already :) Enjoy, something big should be coming hopefully :)

Selena's POV

I unlocked the door with a click, letting it swing open. I hadn't been back here for six weeks, Uni had taken up too much of my time. I walked through the door and stared at my childhood home, hearing Danny close the door behind us. So many memories.

The living room was exactly as I remembered. The fireplace was in the centre of the back wall, the mantelpiece covered with old school photos and prizes. The tv sat in the corner, a blank screen. My mother's piano perched near the stairs, while my father's armchair took up the spot by the large window. The sofa sat in the centre of the room, by another armchair. Home.

I sat down in my father's chair, head in my hands. They were gone. And they weren't coming back. I heard Danny beside me. "Are you ok?" He asked. I scowled.

"Do I bloody look ok?" I snapped, immediately regretting it. "Sorry." He smiled grimly.

"Don't be, I was the same." He replied. I felt a pang of guilt, he'd had personal experience with this. I sighed.

"Did it ever get better?" I asked, looking up at him. He shrugged.

"Not really." He said. "But I found things that made that hole smaller. Friends, music, songwriting." I nodded. "All you have to do is find the thing that makes the hole in your heart small." I knew the answer to that, but I had a feeling if I told him I'd regret it.

Suddenly Danny's phone rang. It was Mark, who'd been sent food shopping. I didn't want to know what he'd done. Danny was thinking along the same lines. "What've you done?" He questioned. I couldn't hear the answer, but it wasn't good. "What?!" His face was dumbstruck. "Crap." He hung up. I looked at him, confused. "We need to buy a newspaper, now!" He said, confusing me even more.

Five minutes later, back at the house, Danny and I stared at the front page of The Sun. A photo of Danny, carrying a drunken dark haired girl over his shoulder, was emblazoned on it, underneath an article about the bombing. Then it hit me. The headline.

THE SCRIPT FRONTMAN GRABS NEW GIRL?

"That's me!?" I yelled. Danny gaped, then nodded. How drunk did I get last night? I read on.

'The Script's frontman, Danny O'Donoghue, was spotted last night at a local London bar, grabbing a drunken girl and carrying her out of the club, our sources confirm. As seen in the photo (right) the Irish singer was clearly drunk, after grabbing the brunette who had been dancing on the tables and singing, but we have to ask, has the dashing songwriter found himself a new girl? Or was it just simply a one-off? Nothing is clear yet, but what we do know is that this Irish musician's private life isn't exactly that."

I stopped in my tracks. "What exactly happened last night?" I cried. Danny coughed awkwardly.

"Well... you had... a little too much vodka." He began. "And you started singing ABBA..." I groaned.

"And that is why I don't get drunk often." I muttered. "And why were you carrying me?!" I exclaimed. "You got us both on the front page!" Danny smiled apologetically.

"Sorry, but you weren't exactly cooperating." He replied. I scowled.

"Great." I said. "Not only are you famous, but now I am as well. Nightmare." Danny shrugged.

"We'll sort something out." He said. I screwed up the newspaper.

"We'd better." I muttered. Danny looked at me strangely, then opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. "Great goldfish impression." I said. "Spit it out." Danny sighed and sat down.