Time Shared (part 60)

*new laptop hasn’t had my photos transferred yet so no picture I’m afraid*

So its been like 3 months since my last update (sorry!) but I’ve finally gotten round to writing Time Shared. The ending is especially rushed and I know I’m a little rusty but hopefully this will suffice! Nowt true and here’s the link to the previous chapter in case you guys need a refresh http://letsgetreadytotumble2014.tumblr.com/post/89368644752/fic-time-shared-part-59

Ant raced through Newcastle’s streets in floods of tears, in his haste leaving his winter coat at Declan’s bedside, and reached his front door longing to throw himself under his covers and simply shut out the world. After a brief yet thorough pat down of his trouser pockets a problem arose.

“My keys…” He stuttered desperately. “I left them in my coat pocket…oh fuck!” Anthony was usually quite hesitant to use explicates, with a very easily influenced younger sister he was used to biting his tongue rather than resorting to mature language, however in his current situation the odds were definitely not in his favour and cursing deemed an appropriate way to express that, in the teen’s eyes.

As the rain continued to lash down, newly partnered with a howling wind to further dampen McPartlin’s mood, he checked his watch in the hopes of his Mother arriving home sooner rather than later. “6:23…That isn’t too bad I guess…Mam should be home by 7 and she’s picking up Sarha, all I had to do was…make dinner….shit how am I supposed to make the tea if I can’t get in?!”

Anger rose inside him as all of the day’s negativities swarmed in his mind like wasps. In a fleeting moment of uncontrollable fury Anthony’s fist powered towards the stone wall opposite him, colliding with significant impact.

“Oww! Fuck fuck fuck” He hissed whilst cradling his right hand and hopping around in a failed attempt to rid himself of the pain that comes with a split and bleeding knuckle.

In despair, the young teen sat heavily on his front step and wept; his school shirt was practically transparent from the rain which persisted to fall as a way of mocking him and dark hair dripped leisurely onto his forehead. After so long Ant saw no point in repeatedly wiping the residue away, the bigger priority being the distressingly serious swelling his right hand was experiencing as it ruthlessly throbbed.

Half an hour later and Ant heard the distinctive voice of his Mother arriving home. “Oh my dear what on Earth are you doing out here? And without a coat too you’ll catch your death!” Ashamed of letting Christine in on his regrettable display of frustrations, Ant remained silently huddled on the front step. “Come on up you come dear, here take my hand.” She tugged at his right arm and Ant howled in pain. “Anth are you hurt? It wasn’t by those boys who bullied Declan was it because if it is…”

“No Ma… It wasn’t anybody okay it was us…Look can we go inside I’m freezing and I just wanna go to bed like.”

Concerned but also seeing the logic in her son’s request, Christine agreed. “Why don’t you both run up stairs and change into your PJ’s and I’ll make you two a hot chocolate eh?” She asked whilst unlocking the door and offering an escape route out of the miserable weather.

“But Mam you haven’t eaten? I’m really sorry I was meant to make dinner and I left my keys I couldn’t and now you’ll be starving and I’ve mucked everything up…”

It wasn’t often Anthony got upset so in the few occasions he did, Christine knew it was sincere. “Don’t you worry about me, a pizza is only a phone call away.” She gave him a wink then nodded for him to go get changed.

Upstairs a curious Sarha poked her head round Ant’s bedroom door. “What happened to your hand?”

“You should knock before entering my room.” Ant sighed before pulling his PJ top over his head, wincing at the shooting pain in his wrist that came from moving it.

“Sorry” she squeaked “I’ll remember next time… But what happened?”

Ant averted her gaze, hid his injured arm behind his back and faked a foolish grin. “Just yer clumsy older brother banging into the gate, that’s all.”

Satisfied with his explanation Sarha giggled and commented “Klutz!” prior to skipping downstairs to retrieve her hot drink.

He offered a sad smile at the spot where she had been standing moments before, knowing he had done the right thing by telling his white lie as it prevented her worrying; at least he did one thing right today. Once the significantly more difficult task of replacing his school trousers with pyjama bottoms was complete, Ant also returned downstairs.

Meanwhile, back at the hospital, the Donnelly family were in a stew. Declan was refusing to speak to anyone and despite him drifting in and out of sleep for the past couple of hours anyway, Anne was agitated that the feud between his Father and Ant was hindering his recovery.

“Maybe we were a little harsh on Anthony…” She pondered out loud as she watched her son restlessly sleep in his Father’s arms.

“No.” Alph bluntly replied. “He needs to be aware that as much as he is a part of this family, he cannot be so disrespectful. Accusing me of worsening Declan’s state is both preposterous and completely out of order.”

Anne bit her lip nervously. “To be fair on him, his main concern is our Decky and that is why he flew off the handle like he did. For such a young lad this must be scary for him to see and we should be grateful our son found a boy who is so devoted to come visit him every day.” Her husband huffed quietly. “This is a tough time for all of us dear, we need to remember that emotions are running high and we all over-reacted because all we want is the best for Decky. We share a common priority so should be working together not pushing others away. Our son needs all the love and support he can get right now.”

“Don’t speak like that Anne…You’re acting as though he’ll never get any better. Our little boy is going to be right as rain in no time.”

She shook her head slightly “I do hope so, I can’t bear seeing him like this.”

Upon feeling Dec move Alph presumed he was waking. “Look he’s coming round again, love. Hey little man, hey, how are you feeling?”

But he didn’t get a response. Instead Declan’s feeble body lurched into spasms; his muscles involuntarily contracted in harsh, painful motions and eyes bulging out of his skull.

“Anne hit the panic button!” Alph commanded whilst attempting to wriggle out from under Dec’s convulsing body and try lie him in bed. All attempts of communicating with him proved useless so settling Declan was impossible, light physical contact was stressing him further and once the doctor rushed in both parents felt sick and helpless watching their son.

“That’ll be £10.50 please.”

“Thanks.” Ant exchanged the cash for the cardboard box containing their dinner and shut the front door on the delivery guy. Awkwardly he carried the pizza with one hand into the living room where his Mam was sat waiting for him. “Has Sarha eaten?” He asked, plonking the takeaway on the coffee table that had been pushed closer to the sofa especially for the meal and reapplying the bag of frozen peas onto his injured knuckles.

“Aye she had dinner at Sue’s and I’ve put her to bed. So are you gonna tell me what happened to your hand?”

Ant flopped next to her on the sofa with a piece of pizza in his left hand. “Ah I don’t kna’ it’s complicated like… I got all angry and out of control.”

“Oh Anth” Christine rubbed his shoulder. “What’s caused that then?”

Between mouthfuls of pizza Ant recited to his Mam the build up to his and Mr. Donnelly’s outburst, his previously bottled emotions now being unleashed he finished his story close to tears. “…And that’s why I was all worked up and I stupidly punched the wall…” By the end his words were spoken in a low-frequency mumble as his embarrassment got the better of him.

“What am I going to do with you, eh?” She gave him a kind smile. “I don’t think I need to tell you how silly that move was, because you’re more than aware right?” Ant nodded glumly. “Even so we’ll need to get it checked tomorrow, I’m really worried you’ve fractured something or other – the swelling is still terrible.”

“But Mam you’ve got work, it’ll be okay I’m sure in a couple of days it’ll just show up as a bruise.” Ant attempted to play it down, despite the constant throbbing failing to cease even after a painkiller.

“Stop worrying about my work, I will call in and explain the situation and it will be dealt with. You’re my son, Anth, and I couldn’t go to work knowing you’re upset and injured that isn’t what Mams do.”

“I still don’t know what to do about Mr Donnelly though…Like I couldn’t help but yell today because I feel so helpless and he just keeps getting worse. I can’t stand seeing him like this Mam, I hate sitting in school all day knowing he’s in hospital and feeling rotten. I don’t kna’ what to do…”

“Look, it sounds to me like Declan’s not the only one in need of a bit of TLC. Why don’t we take the full day off tomorrow, get your hand seen to, buy some things that can cheer Dec up and sort this whole mess out yeah? I wouldn’t take it personally Anth, Alph will be very stressed with the same worries you have about Dec. If we go see him tomorrow I’m certain it will be apologies all round and who knows, maybe Declan’s conditions has improved tonight thanks to the changes in his medication?”

Ant frowned. “You mean I can take the day off school?”

Christine laughed. “Trust you to focus on that bit! But yes, I don’t think you’re in the right frame of mind to be in school right now.”

“Thanks Mam, thank you for understanding.” He hugged her with one arm. “I really want him to get better, more than owt, he will soon right?”

Christine smiled. “With all the love he’s receiving I’m sure he’ll make a fighting recovery.”

To be continued by Laura

  • Alex Turner: the horizon tries but it's just not as kind on the eyes
  • me: DUNUHNUH DUNUNUNH DUNUNUNH NUNUH ARABELLA- OH
theheartrateofapunk:

"I know it’s unreasonable, but when I’m at my favorite band’s show, and they look out at the crowd I don’t want them to see me (us) as fangirls, because when I’m sitting in my room at 2:00 in the morning, headphones  on and the music is so loud that all I can hear is the lyrics, the last thing on my mind is what these people look like. No, what’s on my mind is that maybe, if I keep this song on repeat, that if I recite the lyrics a million times I can hold off the anxiety attacks and erase the suicide letters for one more day. I know what they look like, but that’s  not what I fucking like the band for. At the end of the day, the cord progressions are my lifeline and I’m done being seen as less of a fan, and my devotion to the band being written off as obsession, because of my gender. I’m a fan, not a fangirl.”
Zoom Info
theheartrateofapunk:

"I know it’s unreasonable, but when I’m at my favorite band’s show, and they look out at the crowd I don’t want them to see me (us) as fangirls, because when I’m sitting in my room at 2:00 in the morning, headphones  on and the music is so loud that all I can hear is the lyrics, the last thing on my mind is what these people look like. No, what’s on my mind is that maybe, if I keep this song on repeat, that if I recite the lyrics a million times I can hold off the anxiety attacks and erase the suicide letters for one more day. I know what they look like, but that’s  not what I fucking like the band for. At the end of the day, the cord progressions are my lifeline and I’m done being seen as less of a fan, and my devotion to the band being written off as obsession, because of my gender. I’m a fan, not a fangirl.”
Zoom Info
theheartrateofapunk:

"I know it’s unreasonable, but when I’m at my favorite band’s show, and they look out at the crowd I don’t want them to see me (us) as fangirls, because when I’m sitting in my room at 2:00 in the morning, headphones  on and the music is so loud that all I can hear is the lyrics, the last thing on my mind is what these people look like. No, what’s on my mind is that maybe, if I keep this song on repeat, that if I recite the lyrics a million times I can hold off the anxiety attacks and erase the suicide letters for one more day. I know what they look like, but that’s  not what I fucking like the band for. At the end of the day, the cord progressions are my lifeline and I’m done being seen as less of a fan, and my devotion to the band being written off as obsession, because of my gender. I’m a fan, not a fangirl.”
Zoom Info
theheartrateofapunk:

"I know it’s unreasonable, but when I’m at my favorite band’s show, and they look out at the crowd I don’t want them to see me (us) as fangirls, because when I’m sitting in my room at 2:00 in the morning, headphones  on and the music is so loud that all I can hear is the lyrics, the last thing on my mind is what these people look like. No, what’s on my mind is that maybe, if I keep this song on repeat, that if I recite the lyrics a million times I can hold off the anxiety attacks and erase the suicide letters for one more day. I know what they look like, but that’s  not what I fucking like the band for. At the end of the day, the cord progressions are my lifeline and I’m done being seen as less of a fan, and my devotion to the band being written off as obsession, because of my gender. I’m a fan, not a fangirl.”
Zoom Info
theheartrateofapunk:

"I know it’s unreasonable, but when I’m at my favorite band’s show, and they look out at the crowd I don’t want them to see me (us) as fangirls, because when I’m sitting in my room at 2:00 in the morning, headphones  on and the music is so loud that all I can hear is the lyrics, the last thing on my mind is what these people look like. No, what’s on my mind is that maybe, if I keep this song on repeat, that if I recite the lyrics a million times I can hold off the anxiety attacks and erase the suicide letters for one more day. I know what they look like, but that’s  not what I fucking like the band for. At the end of the day, the cord progressions are my lifeline and I’m done being seen as less of a fan, and my devotion to the band being written off as obsession, because of my gender. I’m a fan, not a fangirl.”
Zoom Info
theheartrateofapunk:

"I know it’s unreasonable, but when I’m at my favorite band’s show, and they look out at the crowd I don’t want them to see me (us) as fangirls, because when I’m sitting in my room at 2:00 in the morning, headphones  on and the music is so loud that all I can hear is the lyrics, the last thing on my mind is what these people look like. No, what’s on my mind is that maybe, if I keep this song on repeat, that if I recite the lyrics a million times I can hold off the anxiety attacks and erase the suicide letters for one more day. I know what they look like, but that’s  not what I fucking like the band for. At the end of the day, the cord progressions are my lifeline and I’m done being seen as less of a fan, and my devotion to the band being written off as obsession, because of my gender. I’m a fan, not a fangirl.”
Zoom Info
theheartrateofapunk:

"I know it’s unreasonable, but when I’m at my favorite band’s show, and they look out at the crowd I don’t want them to see me (us) as fangirls, because when I’m sitting in my room at 2:00 in the morning, headphones  on and the music is so loud that all I can hear is the lyrics, the last thing on my mind is what these people look like. No, what’s on my mind is that maybe, if I keep this song on repeat, that if I recite the lyrics a million times I can hold off the anxiety attacks and erase the suicide letters for one more day. I know what they look like, but that’s  not what I fucking like the band for. At the end of the day, the cord progressions are my lifeline and I’m done being seen as less of a fan, and my devotion to the band being written off as obsession, because of my gender. I’m a fan, not a fangirl.”
Zoom Info

theheartrateofapunk:

"I know it’s unreasonable, but when I’m at my favorite band’s show, and they look out at the crowd I don’t want them to see me (us) as fangirls, because when I’m sitting in my room at 2:00 in the morning, headphones  on and the music is so loud that all I can hear is the lyrics, the last thing on my mind is what these people look like. No, what’s on my mind is that maybe, if I keep this song on repeat, that if I recite the lyrics a million times I can hold off the anxiety attacks and erase the suicide letters for one more day. I know what they look like, but that’s  not what I fucking like the band for. At the end of the day, the cord progressions are my lifeline and I’m done being seen as less of a fan, and my devotion to the band being written off as obsession, because of my gender. I’m a fan, not a fangirl.

When women scream you wonder what’s wrong with them. When men yell you get afraid about what they’re going to do.

A girl in my creative writing class said this in response to a story we read about witnessing intimate partner violence and it really fucked with my head because I’ve never, ever, ever, thought of it that way.  (via astronomized)