The Bright Lights

When everything went wrong between them, would they survive? And would the bright lights beckon again?

Sometimes the first love of your life, is not the love of your life at all...

Do you remember how it started?

The fairytale got twisted and decayed,

The innocence has all been broken,

How did we get this way?

Corrupted (Mcfly)

1. Dougie: Cornwall, January.

The waves crashed onto the beach, thundering loudly above any other noises. At that time of year, in the dead of winter, the beach was deserted. All the holiday makers had deserted the place, and only the occasional dog walker strayed onto the sand, leaving a trail of footprints where they had been.

That morning the beach was all but deserted. All except for the boy who sat on the shore, his legs pulled up to his chest as he stared out to sea, a huge winter coat clasped around his body, like it might defend him from harm. He didn’t see anyone who passed by, he barely saw the crashing waves in front of him, which appeared like they were inconsequential to the boy and where he was sat. It wouldn’t matter if they rose up and surrounded him. He wouldn’t have noticed them. He was lost in a world of his own making, one that existed in a far away land and his own sorrows were fuel enough. His thoughts were consumed by it all. He was stuck there in the past, unable to admit to the present and look ahead to the future. His sorrows consumed him.

As the wind roared past him, he hugged his legs closer to his body and hunched his shoulders so that his head all but disappeared.

A clap of thunder brought him back to the present.

Right now, he would be on the motorway, the pedal pushed to the ground as he raced back to London, eager to be away from this sorry scene. And then what would he do? Dougie couldn’t even begin to imagine what his ex lover would do once he got back home. He had walked out of his life, but also his mind, and Dougie couldn’t reasonably think about him at all.

It was strange to think that someone who had been such a huge part of his life for the last year, would become nothing again. Nothing that was complicated by circumstance. What would they do now? They would have to exist side by side, pretending nothing had changed, when it had deeply. If only the papers hadn’t found out. If only they hadn’t been discovered, then things might have carried on like normal, with no pressure and he wouldn’t have been sat there in that sorry state, contemplating the end of his life. Because that’s what this was. He couldn’t see any way forward from this moment.

He would happily have stayed at the beach house for the rest of his life and never seen anyone again. But he knew they wouldn’t let him. His well meaning, but frankly clueless band mates. He loved them, he really did, but he wished that they could leave him alone. When they found out what happened, it wouldn’t be long until they would be there, trying to cheer him up, make him think that this wasn’t the end of the world. Danny would try to make him laugh, while Tom would fret about the future of the band.

No, Dougie tried to forget about them. But even if he did that, then reality wouldn’t let him.

He steered his mind away from the future. He didn’t want to think about the future. The future was something uncertain, something that he didn’t know.

His thoughts turned again to those last few hours – that terrible silence, and the shouting. The shouting – so much shouting. He had thought the roof would blow off.

And then that had been the end. He had gone – slamming the door behind him, taking the car, and taking off, leaving Dougie there alone in that house, imagining how things should have been.

It should have been different. It should have been their winter break, their get away from everything, and instead it had been a mad dash away from London. Even then he had thought things might still be okay. They were stressed – the media didn’t help and they needed a break. He had thought that the beach house was what they needed. The place they needed to be. But it hadn’t. Things had only got worse from the moment they had arrived.

‘I never asked for this. I never wanted things to go this far. It wasn’t meant to be like this Dougie.’

‘Don’t you love me anymore?’

‘You were my best friend. This wasn’t how things were meant to be. I’m sorry. We let it go too far.’

‘You can’t back out on this now.’

‘I haven’t got a choice. I don’t love you like you think I do.’

‘But,’

‘I have to go. This is too much. We shouldn’t have let this happen. It was a mistake.’

The words rang in his ears. A mistake, a mistake. Mad to think that only that Christmas he had been so happy; had let Harry introduce him to his family, finally, as his boyfriend. What would they think now?

It had been those disapproving looks and mutters that had sent them down there to the beach house, that, and the news somehow reaching the media. Dougie still didn’t know how. He didn’t want to know how. Who had betrayed him? Why had they betrayed them? Or had it just been an unfortunate moment – they should have been more careful, but Dougie had wanted to share his love with everyone – if only he’d known sooner that he didn’t feel the same way. He shook his head, trying once again to make the thoughts go away.

And now there would be questions to face – things to deal with.

Tom had said all along, ever since he had found out, that it would end in tears. Of course he had been right. Tom had been right about everything since Dougie had known him. But it was easy for him to say – he wasn’t the one hopelessly in love with his band mate, delighted when they had finally kissed on one night. And Dougie had let Harry take him for this ride.

Foolish.

He had ruined the band. Ruined it all in one foolish move.

There was one thing he had decided – he was never going back to London. Never going back to the flat. The flat where they had been happy together. Harry could have it all. Dougie didn’t want any of it. He would stay here, on the beach and grow old alone in the beach house. He was sure he could buy it off the other guys. Eventually. They didn’t need it. And Harry wouldn’t want any share in it if he was there. That was good. He could deal with that.

Good, he thought.

His head still burned, and he wondered if it would burn for the rest of his life. If he would ever remember how to smile again, how to talk to people. He didn’t know if he wanted to.

In fact, if he cast himself into the sea now, maybe things would be better. For all of them. The band would face awkward questions, but they could replace him, talk about him in a way that made everyone think they missed him. They couldn’t blame him then for messing the band up. They would remember him fondly – even Harry would have to. Maybe that would be better.

He pulled the coat closer again, but even that smelt of Harry, and he was reluctant to pull it any closer. It was cold though. Of course it was – it was January and he was sat on a beach in Cornwall. What a ridiculous idea.

But nothing made sense. Nothing whatsoever.

And he didn’t care.

It was over.