Disclaimer: I do not own McFly or 'Just My Luck'. If I did, Pudd would be more real than it already is. If that makes sense.

A/N: Chapitre une. :) Please review! This is my first shot at Pudd. Also, I was recently at Disney World, so sue me. The montages on the castle during the night shows were very inspirational.

I went to Disneyland Paris for the first time when I was six. You were eight, but that was okay. We got an ice cream cone together because your parents didn't want to pay for separate ice creams when we wouldn't be able to finish them. It was mint chocolate-chip, and we were licking the ice cream so fast, we accidentally licked each other.

I screamed "gross", and then you licked me again. "You had ice cream on your cheek," you giggled. We both burst out laughing and then finished the ice cream. You ate most of the cone.

Your mum took us to Disneyland Paris for the second time the summer before Year Nine. We stayed at one of the resorts, and met two guys our age at the game room. Well, Danny was your age and Tom was sixteen. I was thirteen. Other people wouldn't have been able to work perfectly with the age differences, but we did. I was never the fourth wheel when we went through Disneyland together, and if you were talking to a chick and you could see that I was getting a bit bored, you would give a quick good-bye and drag me off to a roller coaster.

It was completely awesome, and after the week, when it was time t go, we exchanged numbers with Tom and Danny with promises to keep in touch.

On the trip back to London, you feel asleep next to me, and your head fell from my shoulder to my chest.

I choked back a giggle and silently took a picture of you with my cellphone so I could embarrass you with it later. Sometime on the trip from Paris to London, I fell asleep, too. You're pretty cool, though, so I doubt you were bothered when you woke up against me with my arm draped over your shoulders and my fingers tangled in your hair.

You graduated from high school two years ahead of me. It was nearly impossible for us to drift too far apart until then because we lived close together, called each other all the time, and went to the same school. We had other friends, too, of course so we weren't as tight as we were when we were little.

But you were heading off to university (in America, no less) after the summer, and let's face it; between your (dying) relationship with your girlfriend, preparing to move, and your summer job teaching private lessons for aspiring young drummers, our days together were numbered.

I kind of hoped that you would magically decide that Berkeley wasn't the place for you but that obviously didn't happen.

You had to head off two weeks before the summer ended, and your parents threw you a good-bye party. I came, and hated it. I hated seeing you so pumped to leave. I wanted to leave early, to escape the tears of your relatives and other friends and go somewhere to be pathetic and miserable by myself.

Of course, Fate would never have that, so you asked me to stay afterwards and help you with a last minute packing.

I shrugged. There wasn't really anyone else to ask, really. You broke up with your girlfriend the week before, and no way would you ask your parents for help. Your father is terrible at clothes, and although we both love your mum to death, I know that if you mum tried to help you pack, she'd drive you mad.

We folded clothes silently. You already had your possessions and books ready to go, so you only needed help putting away the clothes you had just finished washing.

I already missed you. I missed us. I missed going to the cinema with you when our girlfriends bailed because they didn't want to see a horror film; I missed sitting with you at my house on the weekends, watching the telly; I missed calling you at two o'clock in the morning to ask about a homework assignment I didn't do yet.

You were leaving your drum kit behind, and I missed watching you play them, missed the focused look as your pounded away to your own rhythm.

"Are you angry with me?" you asked suddenly.

"Yes." I replied shortly.

"Because I'm going to the United States?"

"Yes."

"We'll still keep in touch." You told me, "I'll text you or call you… we can email."

I shrugged. "Okay."

"Dougie!" you said. There was something oddly desperate in your tone. You sounded stressed out. "Don't be upset, please. I don't want to leave knowing we haven't made up."

I folded on of your t-shirts and placed it on the top of your suitcase. It was the stupid tee I gave you as a joke for Christmas two years ago. It was pink, and said PRINCESS on it in white letters. "We'll keep in touch." I said. "You can visit, if you have time. During summer vacation maybe."

"I'll miss you." You said softly.

I let out some sort of snort/hysterical laugh, and the next thing I knew, you were hugging me.

You smell like your favorite brand of cologne plus peppermint, which is the permanent scent in your car. You like to hug people, but this one was different. It was a good-by hug; an I'm-not-going-to-see-you-for-a-while hug. We both realized that, and as much as I didn't want to, I started to sniffle.

"Will you miss me?" You asked in a whisper. You were crying as well. The last time you cried was when you were thirteen and you broke your arm.

"Yeah, mate. Of course I will." I croaked.

You stepped back and grinned, blinking the tears out of your eyes. "We're good?"

I hung my head, feeling miserable. "Yeah," I sniffed. "Sorry… for being a moron, I suppose."

You shrug and we flop back on your bed together. "What d'you reckon America will be like? Like what you see on the telly?" I asked you.

"Normal, I think. Like here, except with American accents and… I dunno, different interests? It isn't like the people there are alien, Dougie."

"It's far away." I mumbled, "An entire ocean. Millions and bajillions of miles."

You laughed.

I turned my head to look at you and wondered if any of your girlfriends ever told you that your eyes twinkle when you smile. "Promise me something, Haz?"

You raised your eyebrow. "Alright,"

"Don't go to Disney World without me." I grinned.

You laughed again, "Disney World?" you repeated, "Not Las Vegas or anything?"

"Disney World." I confirmed. "It's supposed to be the most magical place on earth."

"It's the happiest place on earth." You corrected.

"No, Danny said that Tom says that's Disneyland." I replied, staring up at the ceiling.

"Who?"

"Danny and Tom? Remember? We met them in Paris… three years ago. You didn't keep in touch?"

You didn't really, but you did remember them. "How are they?"

"Danny's going to go to the same college as Tom. It's only forty-five minutes away."

"You could visit." You said.

"I plan on it."

"So you promise?"

"Disney World? Yeah. Sure. Promise."

We lay on the bed for a little while more. I fidgeted for that while before you asked, "Want to watch a movie?"

I slept over unintentionally that night, and it was not like what it sounds like. We ended up falling asleep halfway through the second film we watched. I woke up the next morning curled up next to you. Someone had turned off the lights and the television while we slept –mostly likely your mum.

I wondered if we had been wrapped around each other when she came in. I hoped not, and was glad you weren't awake yet, because otherwise, you would have woken up to feel my boner against your leg.

After untangling myself as quickly and carefully as possible, I raced into your bathroom to deal with it. Then I fell to my knees as leaned over the toilet. "Oh my fuck." I moaned aloud. How was it possible? Thirteen years of knowing you, and one morning I just woke up and decided I was attracted to you. Or at least my cock did.

"Shit shitty shit shit."

You were leaving in the afternoon. Your flight was at four o'clock. How could you leave me? My breath began to come up short; I started hyperventilating.

"Dougie?" You called from your room.

When did you wake up? Five seconds ago? Where you planning what you were going to wear? Did you already have something planned? Comfortable jeans and a t-shirt for the flight across the Atlantic?

"Harry!" I whimpered –and shit, it was a whimper, "Don't leave me, Harry, I'll die if you leave me…"

You opened the bathroom door.

"Please don't leave me,"

"You'll be alright." You said, squatting down next to me.

I shivered, "No, you don't get it, Harry, I'll die! There's going to be some sort of accident and you won't be there, so I'll die or…"

"Dougie." You said firmly, "Look at me, Dougie."

I looked up from the toilet bowl and turned reluctantly to face you. You put your hands on my shoulders.

"You will not die." You said, absolutely serious. Your eyes bore into mine. "Listen, Dougs. I'm not going to be gone for good, okay? I'll visit every break I can afford to leave on. It's going to be fine. You'll be at school –you'll barely realize I'm not there."

I sniffed. "I'm being so stupid."

"You've got dependency issues, yeah," You chuckled softly.

"Christ, I cry so much." I mumbled, wiping the moisture off my cheeks. I looked up again and ran my eyes over your face. What would you say if you knew that I suddenly felt like kissing the breath out of you?

Your hands slipped away from my shoulders and you took hold of my wrists, hauling me up to my feet. "Come on. Let's get dressed. I think my mum washed your clothes from the last time you stayed over."

I ate breakfast at your house and stayed until lunch. We spent most of the day cleaning the house, actually.

You were leaving at one-thirty in order to make it to the airport, check-in and get through security in time for your flight. I said my last good-bye on your driveway. It was rather unceremonious. I sort of just said a 'see you later, mate', and while your parents and you were busy getting your bags into the car, I walked off to catch a bus home.

TBC...