Three cold fingers on my elbow
Title: Three Cold Fingers On My Elbow
Author: Me.
Pairing: PoynterJones
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I owe nothing 'cept for the plot.
Warning(s): Slash
Oh, and just a warning, all my fics are un-beta'd. I don't even know what a beta is.
*cue horrified gasps from fandom*
His hands were abnormally large. They looked completely out of proportion compared to the rest of his wiry body, so wide that they resembled frying pans, far too clumsy. And when he shook my hand for the first time, his completely enveloped mine.
“So welcome to McFly, mate.” said Danny, reaching out to shake my hand.
There goes my hand.
Then he grinned widely, all gums and teeth, green eyes twinkling brightly.
And there goes my head.
But that wasn’t what I found most strange about him, no. Loads of people had large hands. I could randomly select ten people off the streets of England and wouldn’t be surprised if five out of ten of them had trash can lid sized-hands.
It was the fact that they were cold. Not just cold, in fact. They were downright freezing. Even in the room where it was warm and toasty, his hands felt as though they had been stuck in a freezer for the past hour.
His hands weren’t the only part of his body that’s clumsy. All of him was clumsy.
We were heading out the door, down to some fancy room where they had champagne to celebrate the forming of our band.
“Champagne? Ain’t that a bit too much?” he had asked. “Guinness will do fine.”
The sentence ended with a jolt, because the toe of his sneakers got caught on the doorjamb and he stumbled forward. He broke his fall by flinging his hands out to hold on to something and stabalise himself. One hand caught the doorframe, which did the trick, while another landed lightly on my right arm.
Just three of his fingers. His forefinger, middle finger, and ring finger. Always these particular ones. Gently on my elbow. Like three tiny globes of ice.
He finally managed to untangle himself, and heaved a sigh of relief. He then threw me an apologetic smile(even his apologetic smile was happy, chirpy, as if all was right in the world, only with a hint of sheepishness) and unclamped his hand off the doorframe and continued walking.
I remember feeling puzzled as to why he still kept his fingers on my elbow. I could distinctly feel each cold finger, and was very much aware of the patch of goosebumps on the suddenly hyper sensitive area of skin on my right elbow. I looked down nonchalantly, and realised that his fingers were in fact not touching me, but safely tucked into his left pocket. I looked up at him disbelievingly to see him with his mouth arranged in an O shape, whistling(once again, as if all was right in the world), then back at my elbow, where a small patch of goosebumps was clearly visible.
My elbow remained cold for the rest of the day.
. . .
The Wonderland Tour.
My summary, of the Wonderland Tour, was Danny’s sudden development of epic interest in his nipples.
We had just arrived at a new venue to a crowd of screaming teenage girls thrusting out CDs and posters for us to sign through the bars of a huge iron gate. I chuckled as I good-naturedly signed yet another poster that’s shoved under my nose.
Suddenly, the shrieks and screams coming from my right got two octaves higher and I briefly wondered whether Harry had just let one rip before I swiveled my head to the source of all the commotion. Apparently, it wasn’t Harry.
Danny had his jumper pulled all the way up to his shoulders, revealing his bare chest, and was quite happily fingering his nipples, much to the delight of the crowd of girls standing in front of him.
I was suddenly thankful that I was wearing baggy jeans.
Tugging on the neckline of my shirt, I turn back to the girl in front of me.
“Sorry, what’s your name again?”
The girl giggled and said her name. I signed on her CD messily and handed it back to her. Then I felt it.
“Hey Doug,” whispered Danny, suddenly right beside me, three fingers touching my elbow. Ignoring my suddenly cold elbow, I looked at him, and exhaled in relief when I saw his fully covered chest. He jerked his head at something in the crowd, laughing softly under his breath. I looked at the crowd and noticed a huge banner that was being raised by a bunch of girls. It was so huge that I didn’t even need to squint to see what was written on it.
PoynterJones is our OTP
I chuckled weakly. Of course. We were everybody’s OTP. How ironic.
Looking back at Danny, I raised an eyebrow. He saw my expression and giggled some more. Then he leaned dangerously close to my face. I tried to swallow discreetly.
“Shall we make them happy?” he breathed onto my face.
And with that, his three fingers pressed harder against my elbow and he brought his other hand up to my head, angling it so that it looked as though he was giving me a full blown kiss.
It was as if the entire place exploded. All the girls started shrieking like bloody banshees and I could see the PoynterJones is our OTP banner being waved even more violently. He laughed loudly and winked at me, moving away to sign more things, leaving me standing there with my right elbow cold and every other part of my body scorching hot. I cleared my throat and turned to face the group of girls in front of me, who looked as though we had just made all their dreams come true. I smiled weakly and accepted another CD sleeve.
I wasn’t past my third poster when the girls on my right started screaming wildly again. I turned to see Danny playing with his nipples. Cursing under my breath, I shoved the poster back somewhere into the crowd and grabbed another one randomly.
“Name?” I asked gruffly, like an impatient police officer who’d just caught someone driving past the speed limit.
The girl shrieked her name along with something else, but I didn’t pay attention, because all I could think about was that if the damn bastard didn’t stop fondling with his nipples I was going to have my way with him, right there, up against the hard, iron gate.
. . .
Riding the tube together was not the best idea.
In the time span of three minutes, we had knocked into three old women, balanced ourselves on the head of a particularly short seven year old, and stepped on the feet of at least five other passengers.
Most of it was Danny’s fault.
“Whoa,” he exclaimed, stumbling a bit as the train jostled, leaning into my side.
“You know what,” I said, pushing back against him in order to balance our weight. “You should never take any form of public transport ever again. You’re a danger hazard. To the public.”
He gave me a dirty look. “Well, Tom’s car is too small and my car is at the mechanic’s and as long as Harry keeps fartin’ in his I’m not sitting in it. Now that, mate, is a true danger hazard.”
I snorted.
He sighed dramatically and rested his left elbow on my right shoulder, letting his arm drop slightly so that his fingers-three of them, again-brushed against my right elbow. “If you can take it, tough guy, then why are you here?"
Pause.
“Same reason.”
He couldn’t tell that I was lying, because he punched his fist into the air triumphantly, throwing the both of us off balance, and sent me crashing into the train door.
“Fuck! Bleeding fuck! Motherfucker! Oh bleeding mother- “
“Shhhh!"
I bit my lip to stop myself from cursing everybody’s mother, ignoring the filthy look an old woman threw at me. I cradled my bruised elbow carefully while Danny whispered frantic apologies into my ear.
Daniel Alan David Jones was a danger hazard.
. . .
He threw the pen down and flexed his fingers.
“Fuck. I think they’re cramping up.”
I sniggered and looked down at the table, tracing the HMV logo with my pen as I waited for the next fan in line to come forward. My sniggers came to an abrupt stop as I felt three cold spots on my bruised elbow.
I noticed that recently, his fingers had gotten colder. My theory was that he stopped using his hair straighteners. The heat from the hair straighteners must have traveled to his hands through conduction, thus making them slightly warmer-although they still felt icy cold. And now that he stopped using them and decided to go “naturally afro”, his fingers didn’t get any more heat and therefore became even colder than I was used to.
Fucking bollocks.
But the cold felt nicer than usual on my bruised skin. I moved my elbow closer towards him without him knowing and sighed in satisfaction when the cold relieved some of my pain.
I looked at him.
“Does it still hurt?” he asked, prodding my right elbow gently.
I looked at him incredulously. “It’s now purple with dark blue splotches and a slightly green outline. Nope, it doesn’t hurt at all, Danny. It’s just peachy.”
He grimaced and apologized again. Then he removed his fingers and grabbed his pen. The cold began to fade away and the burning persisted on my elbow.
“Could you do that again?”
Danny raised his eyebrows at me questioningly.
“Your fingers are cold.” I explained, looking at the line of people casually. “It feels nice."
For a while, nothing happened. Then, as I was in the middle of signing my name, I felt him press three fingers onto my bruised elbow gently.
For the rest of the signing he giggled madly and wrote with his right hand.
. . .
I jumped and shouted as someone else poured more beer over my head.
All in all, my nineteenth birthday party was going along just fine. The guys held it in the ballroom of some hotel so that we could crash in the hotel rooms if we got too drunk, which we of course, would. There was an unlimited amount of alcohol available and everyone was going mental. Someone threw an arm over my shoulder.
“Happy birthday mate!” Danny shouted into my ear.
Laughing, he dragged me over to a table and handed me a bottle of Corona.
“Alright Doug, time to pull.”
I rolled my eyes and knocked back my Corona.
“How about that one? She wants you man. And she has amazing tits."
I looked over to her. True. She did have amazing tits. Not amazing enough to turn me straight, though.
“How about the other one, the blonde one? Or…” his voice trailed away.
I looked up at him to find him staring at the corner of the room with a dazed expression on his face. I followed his line of vision and my eyes landed on a redhead standing in the corner, chatting with a bunch of girls.
He liked her, I knew. He had for quite a while now. While I never said anything, I never encouraged him, either. I never thought anything of it, anyway. He didn’t have the courage to ask her out. But it just so happened that he managed to grow a pair that day. He turned to look at me with excited, thrilled eyes.
“Hey, I’m going to ask her out.”
He hopped off the bar stool he was sitting on and touched my elbow.
“Wish me luck.”
And he disappeared into the crowd.
Suddenly, turning nineteen didn’t feel all that good.
“Have you seen the way you look at him?” came a voice right beside me.
I started and turned to see Tom sitting on Danny’s stool.
“Huh? What?”
He laughed at my response and shrugged. “The way you look at Danny. I don’t know… It’s like you’re at peace with yourself.”
Well. Tom obviously sucked at this face reading thing because inside I was fighting a raging battle with my inner fucking demons. And I wasn’t exactly on the winning end.
Surrender?
Don’t surrender?
Like him?
Don’t like him?
It was all very fucked up.
Tom reached over and helped himself to my Corona.
“Ooh. I don’t think the redhead likes him.”
I looked up just in time to see the redhead storm angrily pass us.
Don’t surrender.
Don’t surrender.
Don’t surrender.
I stood up and followed her.
. . .
I found Danny sitting alone at an obscure table at the back, staring into his mug of beer as if he wanted to drown in it.
I stared at him.
“Come on. Get up.”
He seemed to sink further into the mug, so that when he spoke, it sounded like an echo.
“What for?”
I braced myself.
“We’re going to fix things.”
. . .
The hotel rooms had paper-thin walls. And Just My Luck(pardon the pun), I got stuck in the room next to Danny’s. I sighed again as I heard more moans coming from his room, coupled with a funny pounding sound with an increasing tempo.
I managed to salvage whatever Danny had screwed up between him and the redhead.
Seriously, the guys don’t give me enough credit. Tom just looked impressed while Harry gave me a strange, almost sympathetic look, which I chose to ignore.
It was the right thing to do, right? Putting aside one’s feelings for the happiness of another, all that crap. Frankly, I was damn well pleased with myself.
I didn’t surrender.
Of course I knew that it was only a temporary victory. That in the morning I’ll see him again and he’ll touch my elbow again and I’ll be gone. Again. Needless to say.
But it was still victory, nonetheless.
I closed my eyes and tried to block out the moans(which were progressing to screams).
So here I was, on my nineteenth birthday, sprawled out alone on a rock-hard couch while Danny fucked the redhead into oblivion in the next room; smiling instead of frowning, laughing instead of crying.
. . .
We’re meeting at Harry’s house for lunch. Surprisingly, I’m the earliest one there.
“We have to be at the recording studio by ten tomorrow, remember.” he reminds me as we fling ourselves onto his couch.
“Yes mom.”
“Insolent little brat.”
We both giggle unmanly for a few seconds.
“So how are you getting there? Driving?” he asks, after we’ve sobered up.
“I think I’m taking the tube.” I reply, picking a piece of lint off the armrest.
He sits up. “You ran over an old man again, didn’t you? Bloody hell. I’m giving you a lift.”
I snort. “Quit worrying your pretty bald head off. I did not run anybody over.” I clear my throat and do my best to mimic his posh accent. “I’ve just developed a liking for taking the tube.”
“Right,” Harry drawls. “Was this before or after you fell for Danny?”
I freeze and the piece of lint falls from my fingers.
We both watch as it floats gently to the ground, landing just beside my feet.
Harry smirks. “I thought so.” His face turns soft. “Tell him.”
I give him a dry smile. “He’s not gay, Harry. You know that."
“I can strap him to a chair and force him to watch Brokeback Mountain on repeat if you want."
I chuckle. “Thanks, but I think I’ll just shut up about it. I’m going out to the balcony for a smoke.”
And before Harry can protest, I stand up and stride out the glass door into the cold.
. . .
I let the unlit cigarette dangle from my lips as I take in a deep breath of cold air. It is kind of quiet outside. Nice. Peaceful. No danger hazards.
“Dougie?”
My face falls. So much for no danger hazards.
“Wha’ Bammy?”
“What?"
I pull the cigarette out of my mouth. “What Danny?”
“Why are you standing outside in the cold?”
“I like the cold.”
It reminds me of something.
“You little freak of nature. Come in! It’s freezing!”
“No. Go away.”
“Someone’s having a diva strop.”
I turn around to face him, finally, and ignore the sudden queasiness of my stomach. “Oi!” I say, lobbing the cigarette at his head. He catches it and laughs. I turn back and face out the balcony.
“Come on, Dougie! Or else I’m going in without you!”
Go, go, go.
“I’m warning you Doug.”
Anything to make this easier.
“That’s it!”
I hear the glass door close. I heave a sigh of relief.
Suddenly, a head of curly brown hair materializes beside me. I turn in disbelief to see Danny standing beside me, hands tucked deep into his pockets, shifting his weight from his right foot to his left foot and back.
“Bloody freezing.” he mumbles. “No idea why you like this. Brrr.”
I smirk.
“Well,” he exclaims. “Now you’ve got me standing outside in the cold with you, freezing my arse off. What do you have to say for yourself?”
I’m in love with you, asshole.
I shrug.
He chuckles and shakes his head. For a few moments, we just stand there, not talking, staring out into Harry’s lawn. I fill my lungs with more cold air, clearing my head.
Somehow, it’s just easier to breathe when Danny’s around.
Finally, he breaks the silence.
“Can we please go in now Dougie? I’m starving.”
No you’re not. At least, not the same way I’ve been, and I hope you never have to be.
I sigh. Turning around sharply, I head back for the door, taking him by surprise.
“Hey, Doug, wait up!”
He catches up with me and lays three fingers on my right elbow. And just when I thought I was already far too numb, too numb to feel any colder, my right elbow turns into a block of ice. I look down. He doesn’t remove his fingers.
I feel colder than I've ever been.
End.
Author: Me.
Pairing: PoynterJones
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I owe nothing 'cept for the plot.
Warning(s): Slash
Oh, and just a warning, all my fics are un-beta'd. I don't even know what a beta is.
*cue horrified gasps from fandom*
His hands were abnormally large. They looked completely out of proportion compared to the rest of his wiry body, so wide that they resembled frying pans, far too clumsy. And when he shook my hand for the first time, his completely enveloped mine.
“So welcome to McFly, mate.” said Danny, reaching out to shake my hand.
There goes my hand.
Then he grinned widely, all gums and teeth, green eyes twinkling brightly.
And there goes my head.
But that wasn’t what I found most strange about him, no. Loads of people had large hands. I could randomly select ten people off the streets of England and wouldn’t be surprised if five out of ten of them had trash can lid sized-hands.
It was the fact that they were cold. Not just cold, in fact. They were downright freezing. Even in the room where it was warm and toasty, his hands felt as though they had been stuck in a freezer for the past hour.
His hands weren’t the only part of his body that’s clumsy. All of him was clumsy.
We were heading out the door, down to some fancy room where they had champagne to celebrate the forming of our band.
“Champagne? Ain’t that a bit too much?” he had asked. “Guinness will do fine.”
The sentence ended with a jolt, because the toe of his sneakers got caught on the doorjamb and he stumbled forward. He broke his fall by flinging his hands out to hold on to something and stabalise himself. One hand caught the doorframe, which did the trick, while another landed lightly on my right arm.
Just three of his fingers. His forefinger, middle finger, and ring finger. Always these particular ones. Gently on my elbow. Like three tiny globes of ice.
He finally managed to untangle himself, and heaved a sigh of relief. He then threw me an apologetic smile(even his apologetic smile was happy, chirpy, as if all was right in the world, only with a hint of sheepishness) and unclamped his hand off the doorframe and continued walking.
I remember feeling puzzled as to why he still kept his fingers on my elbow. I could distinctly feel each cold finger, and was very much aware of the patch of goosebumps on the suddenly hyper sensitive area of skin on my right elbow. I looked down nonchalantly, and realised that his fingers were in fact not touching me, but safely tucked into his left pocket. I looked up at him disbelievingly to see him with his mouth arranged in an O shape, whistling(once again, as if all was right in the world), then back at my elbow, where a small patch of goosebumps was clearly visible.
My elbow remained cold for the rest of the day.
. . .
The Wonderland Tour.
My summary, of the Wonderland Tour, was Danny’s sudden development of epic interest in his nipples.
We had just arrived at a new venue to a crowd of screaming teenage girls thrusting out CDs and posters for us to sign through the bars of a huge iron gate. I chuckled as I good-naturedly signed yet another poster that’s shoved under my nose.
Suddenly, the shrieks and screams coming from my right got two octaves higher and I briefly wondered whether Harry had just let one rip before I swiveled my head to the source of all the commotion. Apparently, it wasn’t Harry.
Danny had his jumper pulled all the way up to his shoulders, revealing his bare chest, and was quite happily fingering his nipples, much to the delight of the crowd of girls standing in front of him.
I was suddenly thankful that I was wearing baggy jeans.
Tugging on the neckline of my shirt, I turn back to the girl in front of me.
“Sorry, what’s your name again?”
The girl giggled and said her name. I signed on her CD messily and handed it back to her. Then I felt it.
“Hey Doug,” whispered Danny, suddenly right beside me, three fingers touching my elbow. Ignoring my suddenly cold elbow, I looked at him, and exhaled in relief when I saw his fully covered chest. He jerked his head at something in the crowd, laughing softly under his breath. I looked at the crowd and noticed a huge banner that was being raised by a bunch of girls. It was so huge that I didn’t even need to squint to see what was written on it.
PoynterJones is our OTP
I chuckled weakly. Of course. We were everybody’s OTP. How ironic.
Looking back at Danny, I raised an eyebrow. He saw my expression and giggled some more. Then he leaned dangerously close to my face. I tried to swallow discreetly.
“Shall we make them happy?” he breathed onto my face.
And with that, his three fingers pressed harder against my elbow and he brought his other hand up to my head, angling it so that it looked as though he was giving me a full blown kiss.
It was as if the entire place exploded. All the girls started shrieking like bloody banshees and I could see the PoynterJones is our OTP banner being waved even more violently. He laughed loudly and winked at me, moving away to sign more things, leaving me standing there with my right elbow cold and every other part of my body scorching hot. I cleared my throat and turned to face the group of girls in front of me, who looked as though we had just made all their dreams come true. I smiled weakly and accepted another CD sleeve.
I wasn’t past my third poster when the girls on my right started screaming wildly again. I turned to see Danny playing with his nipples. Cursing under my breath, I shoved the poster back somewhere into the crowd and grabbed another one randomly.
“Name?” I asked gruffly, like an impatient police officer who’d just caught someone driving past the speed limit.
The girl shrieked her name along with something else, but I didn’t pay attention, because all I could think about was that if the damn bastard didn’t stop fondling with his nipples I was going to have my way with him, right there, up against the hard, iron gate.
. . .
Riding the tube together was not the best idea.
In the time span of three minutes, we had knocked into three old women, balanced ourselves on the head of a particularly short seven year old, and stepped on the feet of at least five other passengers.
Most of it was Danny’s fault.
“Whoa,” he exclaimed, stumbling a bit as the train jostled, leaning into my side.
“You know what,” I said, pushing back against him in order to balance our weight. “You should never take any form of public transport ever again. You’re a danger hazard. To the public.”
He gave me a dirty look. “Well, Tom’s car is too small and my car is at the mechanic’s and as long as Harry keeps fartin’ in his I’m not sitting in it. Now that, mate, is a true danger hazard.”
I snorted.
He sighed dramatically and rested his left elbow on my right shoulder, letting his arm drop slightly so that his fingers-three of them, again-brushed against my right elbow. “If you can take it, tough guy, then why are you here?"
Pause.
“Same reason.”
He couldn’t tell that I was lying, because he punched his fist into the air triumphantly, throwing the both of us off balance, and sent me crashing into the train door.
“Fuck! Bleeding fuck! Motherfucker! Oh bleeding mother- “
“Shhhh!"
I bit my lip to stop myself from cursing everybody’s mother, ignoring the filthy look an old woman threw at me. I cradled my bruised elbow carefully while Danny whispered frantic apologies into my ear.
Daniel Alan David Jones was a danger hazard.
. . .
He threw the pen down and flexed his fingers.
“Fuck. I think they’re cramping up.”
I sniggered and looked down at the table, tracing the HMV logo with my pen as I waited for the next fan in line to come forward. My sniggers came to an abrupt stop as I felt three cold spots on my bruised elbow.
I noticed that recently, his fingers had gotten colder. My theory was that he stopped using his hair straighteners. The heat from the hair straighteners must have traveled to his hands through conduction, thus making them slightly warmer-although they still felt icy cold. And now that he stopped using them and decided to go “naturally afro”, his fingers didn’t get any more heat and therefore became even colder than I was used to.
Fucking bollocks.
But the cold felt nicer than usual on my bruised skin. I moved my elbow closer towards him without him knowing and sighed in satisfaction when the cold relieved some of my pain.
I looked at him.
“Does it still hurt?” he asked, prodding my right elbow gently.
I looked at him incredulously. “It’s now purple with dark blue splotches and a slightly green outline. Nope, it doesn’t hurt at all, Danny. It’s just peachy.”
He grimaced and apologized again. Then he removed his fingers and grabbed his pen. The cold began to fade away and the burning persisted on my elbow.
“Could you do that again?”
Danny raised his eyebrows at me questioningly.
“Your fingers are cold.” I explained, looking at the line of people casually. “It feels nice."
For a while, nothing happened. Then, as I was in the middle of signing my name, I felt him press three fingers onto my bruised elbow gently.
For the rest of the signing he giggled madly and wrote with his right hand.
. . .
I jumped and shouted as someone else poured more beer over my head.
All in all, my nineteenth birthday party was going along just fine. The guys held it in the ballroom of some hotel so that we could crash in the hotel rooms if we got too drunk, which we of course, would. There was an unlimited amount of alcohol available and everyone was going mental. Someone threw an arm over my shoulder.
“Happy birthday mate!” Danny shouted into my ear.
Laughing, he dragged me over to a table and handed me a bottle of Corona.
“Alright Doug, time to pull.”
I rolled my eyes and knocked back my Corona.
“How about that one? She wants you man. And she has amazing tits."
I looked over to her. True. She did have amazing tits. Not amazing enough to turn me straight, though.
“How about the other one, the blonde one? Or…” his voice trailed away.
I looked up at him to find him staring at the corner of the room with a dazed expression on his face. I followed his line of vision and my eyes landed on a redhead standing in the corner, chatting with a bunch of girls.
He liked her, I knew. He had for quite a while now. While I never said anything, I never encouraged him, either. I never thought anything of it, anyway. He didn’t have the courage to ask her out. But it just so happened that he managed to grow a pair that day. He turned to look at me with excited, thrilled eyes.
“Hey, I’m going to ask her out.”
He hopped off the bar stool he was sitting on and touched my elbow.
“Wish me luck.”
And he disappeared into the crowd.
Suddenly, turning nineteen didn’t feel all that good.
“Have you seen the way you look at him?” came a voice right beside me.
I started and turned to see Tom sitting on Danny’s stool.
“Huh? What?”
He laughed at my response and shrugged. “The way you look at Danny. I don’t know… It’s like you’re at peace with yourself.”
Well. Tom obviously sucked at this face reading thing because inside I was fighting a raging battle with my inner fucking demons. And I wasn’t exactly on the winning end.
Surrender?
Don’t surrender?
Like him?
Don’t like him?
It was all very fucked up.
Tom reached over and helped himself to my Corona.
“Ooh. I don’t think the redhead likes him.”
I looked up just in time to see the redhead storm angrily pass us.
Don’t surrender.
Don’t surrender.
Don’t surrender.
I stood up and followed her.
. . .
I found Danny sitting alone at an obscure table at the back, staring into his mug of beer as if he wanted to drown in it.
I stared at him.
“Come on. Get up.”
He seemed to sink further into the mug, so that when he spoke, it sounded like an echo.
“What for?”
I braced myself.
“We’re going to fix things.”
. . .
The hotel rooms had paper-thin walls. And Just My Luck(pardon the pun), I got stuck in the room next to Danny’s. I sighed again as I heard more moans coming from his room, coupled with a funny pounding sound with an increasing tempo.
I managed to salvage whatever Danny had screwed up between him and the redhead.
Seriously, the guys don’t give me enough credit. Tom just looked impressed while Harry gave me a strange, almost sympathetic look, which I chose to ignore.
It was the right thing to do, right? Putting aside one’s feelings for the happiness of another, all that crap. Frankly, I was damn well pleased with myself.
I didn’t surrender.
Of course I knew that it was only a temporary victory. That in the morning I’ll see him again and he’ll touch my elbow again and I’ll be gone. Again. Needless to say.
But it was still victory, nonetheless.
I closed my eyes and tried to block out the moans(which were progressing to screams).
So here I was, on my nineteenth birthday, sprawled out alone on a rock-hard couch while Danny fucked the redhead into oblivion in the next room; smiling instead of frowning, laughing instead of crying.
. . .
We’re meeting at Harry’s house for lunch. Surprisingly, I’m the earliest one there.
“We have to be at the recording studio by ten tomorrow, remember.” he reminds me as we fling ourselves onto his couch.
“Yes mom.”
“Insolent little brat.”
We both giggle unmanly for a few seconds.
“So how are you getting there? Driving?” he asks, after we’ve sobered up.
“I think I’m taking the tube.” I reply, picking a piece of lint off the armrest.
He sits up. “You ran over an old man again, didn’t you? Bloody hell. I’m giving you a lift.”
I snort. “Quit worrying your pretty bald head off. I did not run anybody over.” I clear my throat and do my best to mimic his posh accent. “I’ve just developed a liking for taking the tube.”
“Right,” Harry drawls. “Was this before or after you fell for Danny?”
I freeze and the piece of lint falls from my fingers.
We both watch as it floats gently to the ground, landing just beside my feet.
Harry smirks. “I thought so.” His face turns soft. “Tell him.”
I give him a dry smile. “He’s not gay, Harry. You know that."
“I can strap him to a chair and force him to watch Brokeback Mountain on repeat if you want."
I chuckle. “Thanks, but I think I’ll just shut up about it. I’m going out to the balcony for a smoke.”
And before Harry can protest, I stand up and stride out the glass door into the cold.
. . .
I let the unlit cigarette dangle from my lips as I take in a deep breath of cold air. It is kind of quiet outside. Nice. Peaceful. No danger hazards.
“Dougie?”
My face falls. So much for no danger hazards.
“Wha’ Bammy?”
“What?"
I pull the cigarette out of my mouth. “What Danny?”
“Why are you standing outside in the cold?”
“I like the cold.”
It reminds me of something.
“You little freak of nature. Come in! It’s freezing!”
“No. Go away.”
“Someone’s having a diva strop.”
I turn around to face him, finally, and ignore the sudden queasiness of my stomach. “Oi!” I say, lobbing the cigarette at his head. He catches it and laughs. I turn back and face out the balcony.
“Come on, Dougie! Or else I’m going in without you!”
Go, go, go.
“I’m warning you Doug.”
Anything to make this easier.
“That’s it!”
I hear the glass door close. I heave a sigh of relief.
Suddenly, a head of curly brown hair materializes beside me. I turn in disbelief to see Danny standing beside me, hands tucked deep into his pockets, shifting his weight from his right foot to his left foot and back.
“Bloody freezing.” he mumbles. “No idea why you like this. Brrr.”
I smirk.
“Well,” he exclaims. “Now you’ve got me standing outside in the cold with you, freezing my arse off. What do you have to say for yourself?”
I’m in love with you, asshole.
I shrug.
He chuckles and shakes his head. For a few moments, we just stand there, not talking, staring out into Harry’s lawn. I fill my lungs with more cold air, clearing my head.
Somehow, it’s just easier to breathe when Danny’s around.
Finally, he breaks the silence.
“Can we please go in now Dougie? I’m starving.”
No you’re not. At least, not the same way I’ve been, and I hope you never have to be.
I sigh. Turning around sharply, I head back for the door, taking him by surprise.
“Hey, Doug, wait up!”
He catches up with me and lays three fingers on my right elbow. And just when I thought I was already far too numb, too numb to feel any colder, my right elbow turns into a block of ice. I look down. He doesn’t remove his fingers.
I feel colder than I've ever been.
End.