Without You

66. She Loved Him Anyway

A/N - I am so, SO sorry for the unconscionably long wait between updates! Long story short, I have now fully completed my degree (and got the diploma last week - yay!), and should be receiving my professional license within the next couple of months (fingers crossed)! ... And then I went and volunteered to help proofread and edit a course for canine/veterinary professionals that'll (hopefully) be going global in roughly two weeks' time...So I have been spending basically all of my spare time doing that. The plus-side is that I get to take the course for free, so...🤷‍♀️😂

But yeah, many, many apologies for making you wait so long. I am going to try my hardest to keep to a more steady update schedule going forward. I also had a fair bit of writer's block to work through, but that seems to be dissipating, thankfully! So, I hope you enjoy this update and that it was worth the wait. I'm excited to write what's coming in this story, and I hope you'll stick with me for the ride. Thank you so very much for your support, your incredibly kind words, and your amazing patience! You guys are all wonderful human beings ❤ -H. x

"Dec? You in here?" A concerned voice drifted through the air, dimly reaching Dec's ears over the harsh, rhythmic rattling of the restroom fans.

Hang on, those weren't fans...that was his own ragged breathing.

Unsettled by this sudden realization, Dec tried to pull himself together, berating himself for yet again having lost control in a public place where anyone could hear him.

'S***! That could be a bloody reporter out there!' Dec's frenzied mind chanted as he hurriedly grabbed a couple of pieces of toilet tissue and tried to clean up his face, his movements stilling as the voice rang out again, "Dec? I know that's you. Are you okay?"

He knew that voice, it was someone he knew very well...Oh, Saul! As soon as he finally realized the voice was that of Saul Fearnley, a producer on Saturday Night Takeaway and a good friend to both him and Ant, Dec relaxed. Saul was someone he knew he could trust, who wouldn't sell the story to the press or tease him about crying in the toilet. Saul was someone who would understand.

Hastily flushing the toilet, Dec shakily unlocked the door and peeked out, making sure the coast was clear before emerging from the stall. Saul wordlessly pulled him into a secure hug, and that nearly set Dec off again, tears immediately welling up in his stinging eyes.

"Ali was getting worried about you, mate, and obviously she couldn't come in the gent's, so she asked me to come check for you," Saul explained, watching Dec as he went over to the sink and tried to wash away the evidence of his tears.

"Was I gone that long?" Dec asked tremulously, voice wobbly and a bit croaky from all his crying. He had no idea how long he had been in that stall; it didn't feel like much time had passed, but if Ali had been getting worried, it must have been long enough.

"Well, the BGT gang were in the press room for 10 minutes, and they got back – oh, I don't know, round about 10 minutes ago? – so...." Saul's kind voice trailed off, unwilling to point out the obvious that Dec had – apparently – been crying in the loo for nearly 20 minutes.

Saul's heart clenched with pity for the man in front of him, as Dec – having cleaned up his blotchy face as best he could – met his gaze with tortured, pain-filled eyes.

"I just miss him so much, Saul," Dec whispered, tears glistening in his eyes, before brushing past the producer and exiting the room. Biting his lip as a lump formed in his own throat, Saul shook his head sadly and followed Dec back to the crowded Royal Festival Hall auditorium.