Without You

64. Do It for Me

A/N - Here I am again. A tiny bit late, but it's only a little bit after Monday (where I live, anyway! 😅). I just want to put a little note here that what you'll read a few paragraphs into this chapter is, sadly, very much based on real life comments I read at the time. They are not quoted word for word, mainly because I did not want to go back and read through them again....It's hard enough doing the research for this story as it is.💔 Thank you all for continuing to read and (hopefully) enjoy! Your votes and comments always make my day! And please always remember, kindness over everything...❤ - H. x

Sunday, May 13th, 2018. It had been a very long, tense day so far, marked only by Dec occasionally snapping at Ali when she asked one too many questions. He'd been intensely taciturn all day since Ali had found him sitting on the couch at 8am that morning, blearily watching a political show on catch-up.

By some miracle, she'd managed to get him to eat half of a fry-up at about half eleven, but he'd refused all other semblance of food since, instead choosing to drink several cups of strongly caffeinated tea...Which really hadn't helped his nerves at all – not that he would ever admit it.

It was now just after 5pm, and Dec was in the dressing room adjacent to the master bedroom, fumbling with nervous fingers as he tried to knot his bowtie properly. No matter how hard he tried, he kept doing something wrong each time, and his temper was rapidly fraying. He couldn't even knot a stupid tie, how was he meant to present a week's worth of live telly in two weeks' time?!

His heart spasmed painfully at the sudden realization that, right now, he needed Ant. Ant always helped him when he got like this. And he was excellent at tying bowties. Tears sprang to Dec's eyes unbidden at the searing pain of missing his best friend. He couldn't help but wonder what he was doing right now.

Ant hadn't said much in regards to the BAFTAs when they'd last spoken, and hadn't mentioned it at all in the few texts they'd exchanged yesterday. Now he'd not heard from him all day long.

Finally giving up on his bowtie with an annoyed huff, Dec stared at himself in the mirror. He'd never been the biggest fan of his body, despite his cheeky outward display of pretending he was a stud for the cameras. If either one of them was a looker, it was Ant. He at least had defined muscles and a masculine figure, whereas....Dec sighed, eyes roaming his figure.

"Which one's pregnant?"

"Dec's got more of a baby bump than she does! Does she ever actually smile??"

Dec shoved down the cruel words he'd read just that morning. He'd known he shouldn't have clicked on the links to those articles the tabloids had published with the paparazzi photos from Friday's "trial run," but he couldn't help himself. He'd wanted to see what they were writing about him and Ant...But, unfortunately, he'd gotten sidetracked when he caught sight of some of the readers' comments.

It stung quite a lot, reading people's heartless comments about his body and weight – and about the love of his life – there was no doubt about that. He'd struggled massively with body image as a young tween, and while he'd come to accept – and even embrace – his body as he grew older, there was still a deep-set insecurity that he could never quite shake off.

And now he had to go and walk a bloody red carpet. Brilliant.

Hearing the light thudding of high heels on the carpeted floor behind him, Dec turned, doing his best to wipe all traces of anxiety from his expression. What he saw made his eyes widen and jaw drop.