A/N - Wow, I am utterly blown away by your amazing responses to this fic! Thank you for all your likes and incredibly kind comments. Sorry you had to wait so long for this update, but I was feverishly writing a new story I finally got the inspiration for at 4:30AM, and spent all day hammering that out in between clients. 😂 Hope this update doesn't disappoint!

P.S. - Beware there is a slight trigger warning for this chapter...

16 June 2019. It was an odd day, alternating between hot sun and cool clouds, unable to make up its mind which it preferred. Nearly midday now, the sun was beating down mercilessly, occasionally sliding behind some puffy clouds for a few moments, offering an overheated Declan Donnelly some brief respite before frying him again with its blinding rays. Dec was out running a few errands for Ali, who was resting on the living room sofa at home, her feet up and a cool lemonade in her hand as she watched Keeping Up with the Kardashians, her favorite guilty pleasure TV show. Dec had already made a run to the post office, and was now headed to the chemist on his way back from their local Sainsbury's, having needed a single jar of sauce for the pasta he was going to (try to) make later that day. He had been running himself ragged ever since coming home a week ago, caring for Ali and trying to do as much of the normal housework as he could. She had been diagnosed with gestational hypertension, and had been advised to not exert herself – rest as much as possible, keep her feet up, and take the medications which had been prescribed. Her condition had improved, but her blood pressure was still high, and Dec was worried.

Hurrying along the mostly empty streets, he was annoyed when a paparazzo suddenly popped up from behind a nearby hedgerow, camera shutter flashing repeatedly as they snapped photos of him and his can of sauce. Quickening his pace, Dec soon left the tabloid pest behind, eventually bounding up his front steps and into the relative safety of his home. Calling out to Ali that he was back, Dec stepped into the kitchen to leave the pasta sauce on the counter for later. Feeling his phone vibrating in his jeans pocket, Dec fished it out and raised a weary eyebrow when he saw the caller ID: Georgia Hawkins. Now what, he groaned inwardly, accepting the call with a swipe of his thumb.

As soon as he answered the phone with an unimpressed, "Yeah?" a torrent of words assaulted his ear. Georgia's sentences were so rushed he could only make out a few words here and there, but those few – "Ant," "Anne-Marie," "The Sun," "exclusive" – were enough for him to get the picture: The Sun had finally gotten proof of the rumours that had been circulating for a while now. They were going to out Ant and Anne-Marie's budding relationship. He couldn't deal with this right now. He was already stressed enough as it was, not even having recovered yet from BGT, and now with the angst over Ali's health...This was the last thing he needed. His body acting on instinct, self-preservation kicking in, he cut the call and threw his phone onto the kitchen table with a clatter.

Sinking down into a chair at the table, Dec buried his aching head in his hands, letting out a long, deep sigh. His head felt like it was going to explode, his already high blood pressure skyrocketing further, testing the limits of the ACE inhibitor, enalapril, which had been prescribed for him two months ago to manage his out of control stress-induced hypertension. Worry for his best friend crowded everything else out of his mind, taking hold of him and shaking him to his core. What if this was the beginning of the end again? Would Ant survive this? What if Anne-Marie couldn't take the pressure and broke up with him? What then? Mind going in endless panicked circles, Dec faintly became aware of Ali's raised voice in the living room. Georgia must have called her, then. Great. Just what Ali needed in her delicate state.

Preparing to storm into the living room and grab the phone to give Georgia a piece of his mind for potentially raising his wife's blood pressure further, Dec was surprised when his own phone buzzed once again, skittering across the table as it vibrated. It was Georgia again. He still couldn't deal with this. Declining the call, Dec let it go to voicemail. He'd listen to his telling off later. Right now, he had a wife to check on....Although come to think of it, she was probably going to tell him off, too.

And that she did.

~~~

The sun had now long since hidden behind a solid wall of clouds, and the temperature had chilled considerably. Dec needed a walk to clear his head. Ali had ripped into him for hanging up on Georgia – twice – calling him unprofessional and saying his lack of respect for others was shocking. She evidently had no sympathy for him and what he was going through, so he figured he might as well just go out. No one would miss him if he disappeared, clearly. Ali would be fine on her own with the baby, and Ant had Anne-Marie now - he obviously didn't need him anymore. His family could cope with his loss – there were plenty enough of them to go around to make up for the small matter of his absence. Come to think of it, everyone would be better off without him here. He wasn't much of a catch at the best of times, but these days he was downright miserable to be around. He couldn't blame everyone for becoming sick of him and abandoning him. He'd leave himself, too, if he had the choice.

The ringing of his phone rudely interrupted his increasingly morbid train of thought. Sighing, he pulled it out of his pocket. It was Georgia. Again. Casting his eyes to the heavens in a silent plea for a lightning bolt to fork out its tongue and just kill him now, he accepted the call.

Surprisingly enough, Georgia didn't even mention the fact he'd hung up on her earlier, launching straight into details of the exposé The Sun were planning on running the following day. Dec couldn't say a word, just listened dumbly as Georgia quoted bits and pieces of the article, saying they had no way of stopping it going out. Barbed wire wrapped tighter around his heart as she repeated the words of an unnamed source claiming to be a "friend" who seemed to be his own insecurities incarnate: "...she has put a smile back on his face. She has been his rock. They have been living in each other's pockets, day in, day out." That should be him – he should be Ant's rock, they had been living in each other's pockets for years. But now he'd been replaced. Ant had found someone better, and pitiful little Declan had been left in the dust. That hurt.

Oh, and here came another paparazzo. Fan-bloody-tastic. Sucking his lips in, Dec cast a baleful glare in the pap's direction, continuing his swift pace. The end goal of his walk remained unknown – he was just aimlessly wandering around town, to be honest, wishing he weren't alive – but it looked purposeful enough, his impassionate gaze directed at some undetermined point in the distance.

"I've already spoken to Ant," Georgia continued, "and he's completely fine with everything they want to print. There was just one bit that he got angry about, but we managed to negotiate with all of the tabloids to ensure they omitted it."

Curiousity now getting the better of him, Dec spoke for the first time since he'd answered the phone minutes earlier. "What bit did he want cut out?" His voice was choked, almost sort of fearful. He didn't know why, but he had a feeling whatever it was had to do with him.

Georgia hesitated for a moment, obviously torn. "You know, Dec, I really think you ought to ask Ant. You'll just get upset if I tell you."

Despite repeated exasperated attempts at getting Georgia to reveal what had been removed from the article, Dec finally had to admit defeat. "So Ant's fine with this? He doesn't seem upset?" It bothered Dec that Ant was seemingly unperturbed by his private life being exposed like this. If it were him, he would be furious about his privacy being invaded.

"He's not pleased, no, but he's not too upset. Said he knew it would come out sooner rather than later. He actually seems a bit relieved that they don't have to hide anymore." Georgia sounded puzzled, like she couldn't quite understand why Dec was asking her about this instead of just talking to Ant himself. "Haven't you talked to Ant yet, Dec? I figured you would have spoken by now. Ant said he was going to call you."

"Yeah, well, he hasn't has he," Dec muttered crossly. "He's got someone else now, doesn't need me." His words were clipped, hurt evident in his voice.

Sounding shocked but somehow sorrowful, Georgia exclaimed, "Oh, Dec, is that what you think? You need to talk to him, you really do..."

"Yeah, that's what everyone says. Thanks for the info, Georgia, I've gotta go."

"Bye, Dec, and please talk to him."

Ending the call with a vicious stab of his index finger, Dec pocketed his phone....Only for it to start ringing again. Cursing under his breath, he pulled it out and glared at the screen. To anyone watching – and thankfully the paparazzi were nowhere in sight for this photo opportunity – Dec's next reaction would have seemed odd. A kaleidoscope of emotions passed over his features as he stared at his phone – passing from his initial annoyance to surprise, intense vulnerability, sadness, and then a hint of hope, before returning to sadness. Finally swiping up just before the call went to voicemail, Dec answered.

"Ant?"