Without You

1. Alone

A/N - This is going to be a multi-chaptered fic, and no, I'm not finished writing it yet. I'm honestly not sure how long it will be, and I'm rather doubtful as to whether it will actually be any good or worth reading, but here's the first chapter. I'll warn you, it's not going to be a happy story. Sorry. 😭

ITV News at Ten's Tom Bradby appeared on the screen, starting off with that night's top headline.

"Earlier this evening, veteran ITV presenter Declan Donnelly, one half of double act Ant and Dec, attempted his first solo hosting gig on 'Ant and Dec's Saturday Night Takeaway,' following the arrest of his friend and onscreen partner, Anthony McPartlin, for drink driving on 18 March. Tonight's performance was said to be a test of whether Mr. Donnelly would be capable of hosting 'Britain's Got Talent' and 'I'm a Celebrity...Get Me Out of Here!' solo, as it is expected that his TV partner may not return to his work duties until some time in 2019. However, after the dismal performance given by Declan Donnelly tonight,"

{Cuts to clips from that evening's 'Saturday Night Takeaway'}

"it is rumoured that ITV are considering cancelling the final episode of 'Takeaway' and will be releasing Ant and Dec from their multi-million pound golden handcuffs deal. Mr. Donnelly was seen leaving the London Studios in tears shortly after the show tonight, and is said to be devastated. Could this be the end for Ant and Dec? Our correspondent,..."

A small figure shot upright with a gasp in an otherwise peaceful Chiswick bedroom. Beside him, the man's wife slept on, undisturbed by the upheaval of the mattress as her husband quickly climbed out of bed. Pregnancy was hard work, and she was exhausted – nothing could disturb her from her deep sleep. For her husband, however, things were quite different. He just so happened to be the Declan Donnelly, one half of Ant and Dec....

Groaning inwardly when he noted the time on the bedside clock, an utterly drained Dec stealthily crept out of his bedroom. He couldn't sleep anymore, not after that. There would be no peace for him tonight, that much was clear. It was just after 2AM....The last thing he remembered was staring at the clock, and it had been around 1:30 then....So he'd gotten a grand total of maybe 30 minutes of sleep. Brilliant.

Completely drenched in a cold sweat, Dec shivered involuntarily as the memories of his dream came crashing back into his mind, and he could feel panic starting to take hold of him. He had made his way downstairs so as not to disturb Ali, wandering around the house aimlessly, restless feet unwilling to let him rest. But as his heart raced and hands began to shake, he fell against a doorframe, propping himself up as he began hyperventilating. Dizzy now, Dec could barely stand upright. Staggering for a moment, he collapsed to the floor, putting his head between his knees and trying to gain control of his frenzied mind.

Images from his dream flashed before his eyes:

Being greeted by a chorus of boos from the audience...

Stuttering through his lines, blindly reaching out for the comforting presence that wasn't there...

Cowering before the unrelenting chant of the audience: "Off, off, off!"

Watching the audience rapidly thin as people left mid-show...

Breaking down on live telly...

Scrambling to his feet, Dec stumbled to the downstairs toilet, banging open the lid and retching painfully even as sobs crawled up his throat. The small amount of food he'd managed to eat at dinner landed in the toilet, followed by nothing other than bile and pooled saliva. Retches finally subsiding, he leaned back from the toilet but remained on the floor, unable to find the energy to rise. He had a banging headache – actually, he'd had one pretty much all week – that throbbed with every beat of his heart, and he moaned painfully as another particularly vicious stab of pain shot through his skull. Burying his head in his shaking hands, Dec tried to take a deep breath, but failed miserably. It felt like someone had put him in a straight jacket, except it was far, far too tight, not allowing him to expand his rib cage properly. In fact, they'd not only put him in a straight jacket, but were also brutally choking him, closing his throat off and slowly strangling him.