My Ant and Dec One shots

💛 Pet Shop

I'm posting this before BGT champions cause I'm going away this weekend 🥺

I've written this one shot after being inspired by 'Solider' a story by @StrawberryBoi, if you haven't read it go check out 🥰

"Tell me, Anthony, what do you feel when these flashbacks come over you?" The woman, Dr. Holly Willoughby, made a few notes on her pad. She smiled softly at the man in the comfy leather armchair in front of her.

Ant tried to avoid looking at Dr. Willoughby's face, instead focusing on the room that had become his second hell. It was open and airy, with cream carpeting, light blue walls, and large, open windows that showed the small town along the ocean in Newcastle. The sleepy town that Ant had moved to was peaceful. It had very little tourists and very few visitors. It was the perfect place for someone who wanted peace and quiet. The perfect place to recover. A perfect place for someone like him.

"Ant?" Ant finally looked at the blonde haired woman, his green eyes that were once bright and happy- when he was young and innocent- but were now dull and lifeless.

"I feel... Helpless... Terrified." Ant's voice was dull and rough, not used to speaking much at all outside his therapy sessions. He knew almost everyone in town, and everyone in town knew him, or about him. He got by with nods and shakes of his head, small and insincere smiles, and sincere frowns. He waved for hello or goodbye. Talking didn't appeal to him much anymore. Not that much of anything did, now.

Not since he came home from service.

Not since he lost his left leg and scarred his face and multiple areas of his body.

He was lucky he wasn't blind or dead, his doctor said.

He'd rather be blind.

Maybe then he wouldn't see the pity. The flinches when people would see the scars on his face, running down his cheeks, chest, arms and leg like claw marks.

Leg.

He was still getting used to that. Only having one. He still got phantom pains from a limb that was no longer there. Never again would be there.

He got a medal for saving his Company of men. For taking the blast of the bomb that should have killed him. Blown him to pieces.

"Why do you feel that way, Anthony? What makes you helpless, and terrified?" Ant stared into her light eyes, his own eyes seemingly staring through her. Ant had to give her props for only shifting slightly uncomfortably.

"Because I can't help them. I just stand there, watchin' them fuckin' die in front of me. Good men and women. Young men and women. Sons, daughters, wives, husbands. Families. Human beings. All in the name of fuckin' war." Ant scowled, his hand twitching as the phantom pain began to throb in a limb no longer there.

"Why can't people just fuckin' get along? Why can't we solve our differences with other countries and religions by talking things out? No," Ant snarled, spitting his next words out. "We decide that guns and violence is the best way to decide who has the bigger fuckin' dick ." 

Holly nodded, writing down more on her pad. "Have you ever talked to anyone else about this, besides me? About your views?"

Ant shook his head."Why would I?"

Holly smiled gently at him, and Ant found himself hating that smile. It wasn't like she cared. Why would she? He was just someone who talked about his problems and then gave her a check at the end. She had no reason to care.

"Because something interesting might happen." Ant huffed, staring out the window.

"Nothing Interesting happens to me. Not anymore."