A/N: So this is my first story on here, yay! Um... I hope you like it? What are pre-story author's notes supposed to say? Oh yeah, the story is set around the time Doug was 16. Enjoy! c:
I woke up to my head throbbing profusely. It hurt to move, my vision was blurred, and even my own heart beat sounded like a drum in my ear. It was the fifth migraine I had had this week, and that was strange, considering I had never really had migraines before.
I gotta get one of the boys , I thought to myself, trying to breathe through the pain. There was no way in hell I could call to the boys, I could barely open my eyes.
Think, Dougie, think.
Even thinking hurt.
I can't see to walk, I'd have to turn on a light and that wouldn't do any good. I yell to wake one of the boys. I can't just sleep it off, oh no.
Then it hit me.
Even while having a migraine I'm brilliant , I thought, chuckling silently.
I grabbed my phone and turned the volume down to silent. Then I rang Tom's number, he was the oldest and always seemed to know what to do in these situations. When I saw that he picked up, I pressed the microphone end to my mouth.
"Tom..." I half moaned, half whispered, cringing at the sound of my own voice. I took a deep breathe and spoke again. "Tom. Help. Please."
There was a sudden rush of foot steps from the room above me that almost made me regret my decision to call to the older boy for help. Seconds later my door swung open, a dead tired blonde standing in the dark door way, our phones the only lights in the room.
"What's wrong, Dougs?" he asked, sounding worried but also slightly relieved, probably because he hadn't discovered me half dead on the floor.
"Tom. Shut. The. Hell. Up."
He raised an eyebrow at me.
"My head," I informed through gritted teeth as the pounding got worst. Tom nodded in understanding and ran off, returning soon with some ibuprofen and a pint glass full of ice water. I slowly reached for the water and took a small sip, the cold rushing through my head. Everything still looked fuzz though.
"Tom it taste like beer," I managed to croak weakly.
"Sorry mate, I just grabbed the first glass I saw and filled it. It must've been dirty." Not surprising in our house.
"Still, thanks."
I reached out to grab the pain killers with a shaky arm. By the time I got the open bottle in my hand, I wasn't stable enough to hold it. I was about to pass out.
"Dougie, are you okay?" Tom asked, trying to suppress the panic in his voice (but not doing a very good job at it, might I add).
"N-no. I don't think so."
"I'm calling an ambulan-"
And that was the last thing I heard until everything went black.
A/N: So, I hope you enjoyed this part/chapter. Should I continue this story? Please review. x
