Without You

35. A New Beginning

A/N - I can't quite believe how far this story has gone! Chapter 35 already! Thanks, as ever, for all your support. ❤ I'm a bit nervous that the story will disappoint now that we're getting closer to the part everyone's been waiting for....Fingers crossed I don't let myself down! -H. x

⚠️⚠️⚠️Trigger Warning⚠️⚠️⚠️

"I'm just going to the loo, Al, bloody hell!" Dec's voice held a distinctly annoyed tone to it as he sent his wife a side glare. "It's a train, whaddaya think I'm gonna do?!"

Ali sighed, reaching out to gently squeeze Dec's hand, "I'm sorry, love, I'm just...I worry about you. Don't be long, okay?"

Dec huffed and rolled his eyes, but flinched hard as Ali meaningfully caressed his healing wrist with her thumb, raising an eyebrow at him in silence. Biting his lip guiltily, he finally nodded, turning and making his way down the aisle of their private car to the adjoining compartment containing a toilet. Securely shutting and locking the door behind him, he collapsed down onto the closed toilet seat, momentarily forgetting his urgent need to have a wee. Hanging his head, he let out a long sigh that was interrupted by several deep, wet coughs as his lungs protested against the sudden expulsion of air.

He felt dead inside – yes, his body was still warm, his heart still beating, but his heart was broken, his soul was crushed, his life blood had been sucked out of him. Where there had once been a vibrant, bouncy, positive individual, there was now a shattered shell of a man. Declan Donnelly was no longer Declan Donnelly. He didn't recognize himself anymore. He couldn't see past the sea of pain, anger, and confusion his life had become. The beautiful things in life like hope and love were beyond his reach. All around him was darkness.

His bladder suddenly reminding him of why he'd come to the toilet, Dec heaved himself up off the seat and turned around, lifting the lid and taking care of business while his mind wandered. There was a spark of nervous fire in his belly as a flock of butterflies started fluttering about in his stomach.

Today was 24 April. Six days since he'd attempted suicide, and two before Ant was discharged from hospital.

He and Ali were taking the train back to London from their holiday villa in Portugal. It was a bit of a long journey – basically almost an entire day – but there were a couple of distinct advantages: it avoided any risk to the baby from flying, plus there was a much lower chance of them being papped at the train station than at Heathrow airport. Dec did not want to be seen by the general public. He was in an exceedingly vulnerable state currently, and he wanted nothing more than to just hide away from the world.

The break in Portugal had not done him any good. Between being so terribly ill and the mental and emotional pain he was suffering, he'd not gained a single bit of benefit from his time off. If anything, not having anything to do had proven quite detrimental. As much as the immense pressure of performing solo had worn him down, at least being at work had kept him busy and prevented him from being left alone with his frighteningly dark thoughts and feelings.

And since last Monday....Well, since then, he'd not had a moment's peace. Ali never let him out of her sight, always hovering over him and making sure he was safe. The day after the "incident," Dec couldn't find a sharp object in their villa to save his life. Scissors, knives, paper cutters, razor blades, anything with an edge sharp enough to cut into skin was hidden away, goodness knows where, while Dec was – for once – fast asleep in bed. He'd not mentioned the sudden disappearance of a random bunch of sharp objects, and neither had Ali, both preferring to shy away from the subject.