We Could Have Fallen in Love

“Christmas cheer is near, Christmas—every year!” Tom sang, making up his own Christmas carol.

Dougie snorted. “You’ve had better,” he advised his bandmate. He grabbed a cookie from the plate at the center of the table and munched on it.

“Dude, there are like always cookies here,” Danny commented. “It’s like, never-ending. I think they have special people who make them at night or something." His eyes went wide.

Now Harry snorted. “Yes, Danny, cause Dougie’s mum has a bunch of elves who come down at night. And make cookies. And hot chocolate. And our beds also.” He hit Danny lightly on the back of his head.

“Well, that would be nice,” Danny mumbled, rubbing his head.

Dougie rolled his eyes while taking another cookie. He, Danny, Tom and Harry had taken a break from the masses of people now occupying Dougie’s house and had snuck into the kitchen to sit by themselves and attack the plates of cookies on their own, despite the fact that Dougie was still giving Danny the silent treatment over what he did. But when Dougie said masses, he wasn’t joking. There was Harry, Danny and Tom’s families, plus Dougie’s own family and family friends. Dougie usually liked it when there were a lot of people over, but he was feeling a little overcrowded.

Or maybe not overcrowded. Maybe he was just avoiding someone.

Dougie shook this thought from his head as Danny said his name loudly. “What?” Dougie snapped, forgetting for a second that he was ignoring Danny.

“Ha! I got you to talk to me!” Danny said triumphantly. But when Dougie glared at him, his tone turned serious, “Doug, please—why are you angry with me?”

“Yeah guys, can you fix this right now cause it’s gonna be a really crappy Christmas if you two keep it up like this,” Tom told them, while Harry swiped the last two cookies and shoved them in his mouth while he thought no one was looking.

Dougie stood up from the floor where they had all been sitting and walked over to the kitchen table, purposely avoiding Danny’s gaze. When it was clear that everyone was waiting for Dougie to say something, he finally mumbled, “You know what you did.”

“No, I really don’t!” Danny exclaimed.

Tom grabbed Harry and they both stood up. “We're gonna leave you two now—and you better not be still mad at each other when we come back,” he warned them.

When they had left, Danny said quietly, “Dougie, I just don’t get it. You’ve been acting a bit nasty to me lately and I don’t understand why.”

“SJ,” Dougie spewed out.

Danny looked confused. “Huh?”

“Danny, how fucking dare you? You’re such a great friend,” Dougie spat at him sarcastically. “I can’t believe you and SJ…”

“Me and SJ what?” Danny demanded, standing up. “I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Dougie gave him another glare. “You slept with SJ,” he said icily, poison dripping off every word. “Honestly, Danny, how could you?”

“What?!?” Danny exclaimed. “Doug, is that a joke…?” When it became clear to him that Dougie was being completely serious, he shook his head and ran his hands through his dark curls. “Dougie, mate, I don’t know where you got that idea, but it’s absolutely not true.”

Dougie felt uneasy. Danny’s expression was throwing him off. He looked too sincere and confused; it almost made Dougie doubt his conviction that Danny had committed such a heinous crime. But he had seen them. Hadn’t he? “That night of her party, I saw you two together in her room,” Dougie accused.

Danny was shaking his head again. “Yes, but she was upset about something. I was just comforting her,” Danny defended himself.

Dougie looked at him suspiciously, unsure whether to believe him or not.

“Dougie, I’m your mate,” Danny said in a softer tone, his blue eyes wide and honest. “I wouldn’t get with your ex behind your back.”

Dougie pondered this. A couple seconds later, he looked away from Danny, feeling slightly guilty. “I’m sorry, Danny,” he muttered, believing him. “I just saw something and I kinda just figured without thinking…”

“Don’t worry about it.” Danny said, patting his arm. “Anyway, it’s not like I’m the one SJ wants, you know…”

Dougie looked at him again. His blue eyes were twinkling sagely, as though there was something he knew that Dougie didn’t. In that moment, Dougie felt confused. He opened his mouth to ask Danny what, exactly, it was he had meant, but before he could a group of relatives swooped into the kitchen, chatting loudly and asking for more cups. Dougie turned away from Danny to do his job as a gracious host, but by the time he turned back around to interrogate Danny, he was gone.

“SJ, tell me about the London Institute of Art,” Harry’s mum, who was sititng next to her on a sofa in the Poynters’ living room, commanded her. “How’s it going so far?”

SJ tucked a loose strand of her auburn hair behind her ear and smiled at her aunt. “Oh, it’s going really well,” she told her. “I’m so glad I got in. It’s really good for me.”

“What classes are you taking?” her aunt asked her, sipping from her tea.

“Well, for the first two years you have to take a bunch of regular classes as well as your art classes,” SJ explained. “But right now I’m taking Still Life Painting and another Oil Painting class, which is actually really tough.”

“What do you want your major to be?” Dougie’s sister Jazzie asked, joining the conversation.

“I’m actually doing a double major in Painting and Graphic Design,” SJ said. “Next semester I’m starting on some Graphic Design classes. I hope.”

Her aunt smiled warmly at her. “You know, SJ,” she commented. “If your father was here, I know he would be very proud of you.”

Those simple words, as nonchalant as they had been, had such an impact on SJ. She looked down, tears gathering in her eyes, as feelings of nostalgia overcame her. “Thank you,” she managed to whisper softly, but her aunt had already turned around to take another cup of tea.

Just as SJ managed to control her tears and put up an indifferent front, her stomach churned and she felt a wave of familiar nausea. “Pardon me,” she excused herself quickly, before standing up and making her way through the room of people to go upstairs. She headed straight to the bathroom in Jazzie’s room, closed the door, and locked it.

SJ sat on the floor for a second after making herself throw up in the toilet. Somehow, she felt even worse than before. She put her head in her hands. What was wrong with her? It was Christmas. She was supposed to be happy. SJ shook off her melancholic feelings as she stood up and brushed her teeth thoroughly. Then, after flushing the toilet, she opened the door and stepped out—right into the presence of Jazzie herself.

“Oh. Er. Hi,” SJ couldn’t think of anything else to say. She hoped against hope Jazzie had just walked in and hadn’t heard her—

“Were you just throwing up?” she demanded.

SJ’s heartbeat sped up. Her brain froze. She licked her suddenly dry lips. Shit. “Oh—er, yeah I don’t feel so good,” she heard herself lie quickly. “It must have been something I ate.”

Jazzie frowned. “You were fine just a second ago.”

“Er. Yeah, I’m just gonna lie down for a little bit,” SJ continued, ignoring Jazzie’s comment. “I’ll feel better in a couple of minutes, don’t worry.” She feigned slight dizziness to make it seem more convincing and sat down on her bed.

Jazzie seemed to hover between skepticism and believing her. “Alright,” she finally said, making up her mind and seeming to go with the latter. “Do you want me to bring you some water or something?”

“Sure, thank you,” SJ told her, lying down on the bed and acting the part. But her heart didn’t stop pounding until Jazzie’s footsteps had disappeared down the hall. Shit. She needed to be more careful, if she wanted everything to stay a secret. She didn’t want anyone’s help. SJ could handle everything by herself. I don’t need help, SJ told herself. I’m perfectly fine.