Denied the chance (The Script fanfic)

My mates are all there trying to calm me down...

**Not Proofread**

Danny's POV:

'Ok, just a few more songs then we're heading down the pub for a drink. I am completely knackered!' Mark stressed the last part, adding extra emphasis on the "knackered".

'Alright, Glen your turn to pick.' I say, a wide grin plastered across my face. Jamming out is one way that never fails to cheer me up.  I take my seat as mark picks up his guitar, ready to strum along to whichever song Glen chooses. He begins to play a steady beat as I instantly recognise the song, leaping into the space in front of me and continuing to sprint out of the studio. My arms and legs flap about like a wet fish, as I run as fast as I can, my breathing halted as I long desperately for fresh air. So much for forgetting about her. I stand, leaning against the tall brick wall. It is a cold and refreshing contrast to my now sweaty back-not from the running, but from my thoughts whizzing around at top speed. They are distracting my brain from the important things like breathing. No! She is important too; in fact she is the most important thing in my life and I let her slip away-again. I should really stop doing that.

'Hey mate, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. I  just thought it might help for you to sing it all out, get it out of your system.'

'Don't worry about it Glen. You're right, I just wasn't expecting it sorry.' I sigh. 'I might just go for a walk for a while, it's still quite early. I'll meet you down the pub later alright?' He nods, walking back into the studio. 

I start off, dawdling mindlessly down the London backstreets. My thoughts whirling around in my head, ready to explode any minute. Turning the corner off  the type of place I know only too well, I look down at my feet, desperate to disguise the tears developing in my brown eyes. Loss seems to follow me everywhere, enveloping itself in many forms, death and heartbreak appearing hand in hand. Lost in my thoughts I walk into the graveyard, wandering aimlessly through the graves, reading the names as I drifted past resting place after resting place.

After a while just walking I head towards the tall iron gates of the cemetery, again looking down at my feet, the tears leaking from my eyes, dampening my dark eyelashes. Suddenly, out of nowhere, I crash into something wooden, sending it flying to the ground, followed by a cracking sound, sending what looks like tea all over the chestnut coloured Gibson. I curse under my breath, instantly hailing myself for not looking where I was going.

'My guitar!' Comes a fairly high pitched scream. I am really for it now, if anyone made me spill tea over my guitar I would be royally pis- A gentle voice interrupts my train of thought. 'Watch where the hell you are go-' I hear a sharp intake of breath, making me raise my face to look at the person in front of me. I freeze. Why here? Why now? She grabs a firm hold of her guitar and stalks off into the other direction, not once looking back at me.

My now tear-stained face is the definition of shock. There was nothing I could do. She just walked off. I didn't even get the chance to talk to her-she denied me that. Something on the floor flashes, sending crashing back down to Earth. Her phone. What should I do with it? I guess I'll have to work that out later. For now, though, I pick it up, placing it into the pocket of my black jacket, zipping it up for extra security. I don't mind losing my own things, but losing someone else's things is just plain rude.

Once more I start walking down the streets, this time blanking out all the memories, erasing the desperate, sad feeling creeping around inside me.

~*~

**Thursday**

'And remember that time back in 2003, I was absolutely drunk off my face.' I slur, waving my Guinness around, maybe we might have had a little bit too much to drink, but it is allowed every now and again. Mark snorts, shooting his beer all over my crotch area, making it look like I've wet myself.

'You were so full of it, then when she- your ego was completely smashed.' Absolutely none of what he said makes any sense to Glen. It was an inside joke. We have told Glen all about it, but it isn't quite the same: it was a had to be there moment. Memories come flooding back to me, drenched in embarrassment and heartbreak. I didn't find it half as amusing as Mark. I still don't.

'Mark! Stop actin' the maggot. Come on, lets just forget about it shall we?' Glen suggests, I smile. 

 'Hey Bucket, go grab us another pint will ye.' I order, a slight smile on my face. I just had the most amazingly genius idea, but I had to wait for Glen to go to the bar, he could ruin my plan completely. As soon as he leaves I pull out the mobile phone from the security of my pocket, taking the time to inspect the phone case. My eyes are presented with the image of two roses intertwined-one white and one red; two different things coming together to make one. Or am I reading far too much into things in my drunken state? Oh well. It has been three days since I bumped into her, quite literally and to be honest I should have done this sooner. 

I glance at the number most recently dialled. What do I have to lose? Mark eyes me wearily as I catch his gaze whilst skimming the room to check that Glen is still nowhere around.

'Dan, what are you doing mate?' Mark questions, his voice laced in a mixture of concern and pure confusion. 'Whose phone is that?' He ask without waiting for me to answer his previous question.

'What's going on?' Great! Now Glen is back, surely he will try and talk me out of it. I laugh slightly, attempting to shrug off the concern.

'Just making a little call.' I say, not giving them any more information.

'Not to Irma?!' Glen says, making it sound more like a statement than a question. Smiling, I shake my head, confidently. Myself and Irma have only recently split, but I couldn’t keep on telling her that she was my everything when I constantly had nothing but Ellowyn on my mind. Although it broke my heart, it wouldn't be fair to her, or to me.

'Then who?' Mark asks confused. I just shrug it off, ignoring his question. My smile broadens at the annoyed tone in his voice, he hates me doing this. 'If you don't tell me I will make you eat nothing but onions for a week.' Damn you Mark, I hate onions. As I rab hold of an idea, I smile once more.

'Just a friend of a friend.' I answer, maintaining my series of vague answers.

'What friend?' Glen buts in. Great, not its two against one.

'Just an old one.' I snap back, getting annoyed at the constant questioning.

'Danny, please tell me it isn't...Oh, it is, isn't it?' Fabulous, the look of shock on Mark's face shows me that he has worked it out, or near enough; that's just great. So, I do the only thing I can do, I ignore them and follow my heart and not my head. I press dial.

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A/N: Hi. I just want to say THANK YOU for reading and voting and commenting. I have not got over 450 reads. Lets hope we can get to 500, hey. Anyways, please comment/vote and let me know what you think of it so far and what you think is going to happen next. Thanks,

GirlWhoCantBeMoved13 :D