Hey everyone! Sorry I kind of sorta haven't updated recently. School, hospital (there's a lot of Hospital in this chapter. Has nothing to do what I've got lol) and crappy New England weather.
So, this chapter has quite a lot of… Dougie being sick in it. Like throwing up. Sorry guys, but I promise he gets better. I'm just warning any squeamish people out there!
This chapter's pretty long, so you might want to grab a soda or some crackers before you start reading. Maybe hit the toilet really quick. Enjoy! =]
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Throwing up was absolutely Dougie's least favorite thing in the world. Nothing good ever came from vomiting. Well, sure, it was your body's way of saying "No! Get that icky stuff out!" but for all Dougie cared, that icky stuff could stay right where it wanted to. Coming back up was the worst option ever.
He spit into the toilet one more time before standing up to get a drink. He couldn't figure out a reason for he sudden illness, especially because he hadn't been drinking. Dougie's stomach hurt like someone was stabbing him – god it was disgusting.
"Yo, Doug?" A voice called from his living room, most likely one of his band mates. He hadn't been answering his phone the entire morning because his head was preoccupied in the porcelain thrown.
"In here…" Dougie called back weakly, sitting on the edge of his bathtub and sipping a glass of water. He felt hot and sweaty, and his stomach gurgled, warning him that more unpleasant vomiting was on its way.
"You okay, mate? What's going on?" Dougie looked up to see Danny standing in his doorway, concerned. In his hand he held a handful of mail, confusing Dougie in his weak state.
"I don't know… I think that it's food poisoning from last night… something in the burger…" Dougie mumbled, holding his stomach.
"Oh dude, that sucks. Here, I got your mail for you on my way in." Danny said as he placed the envelopes on the counter near the sink. Dougie nodded in thanks, having no energy to get up and look through the letters.
"How'd you go with Saskia last night?" Asked Dougie, looking for something to distract him from the pain in his stomach.
"Ehhh!" Danny replied, a wide smile stretching across his face. "We saw Yes Man, and dude we didn't actually watch the movie. Dude, she's great." He was nodding his head in approval. "Thanks for hooking me up."
"No problem. Harry though she would be a good match for me but- ugh, hold on!" Dougie leapt up from his spot on the tub to throw in head in the toilet. Throwing up sucked.
"Dude, you're really sick… do you want me to call a doctor or something?" Danny asked as he refilled his friends glass of water.
"No… it'll pass… it's like throwing up when you're wasted. You just got to get through- ugh." His head in the toilet again…
"All right… maybe we should call the restaurant. Let them know that they had nasty meat." Danny suggested, handing Dougie the water.
"Actually, that'd be good." Dougie agreed as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and called information.
Danny took the phone from him once he started vomiting again, talking to the restaurant manager about the situation. He'd hung up after a few minutes, shrugging his shoulders.
"They said they'd pay for your hospital bill if you needed to go." He finished, looking smug.
"Yeah… if I go." Dougie mumbled, not really listening as he flushed the toilet.
"Look, mate, I have to go over to Tim Marten's to drop off my Gibson. Something's wrong with the pick ups… I feel kind of worried leaving you here alone, though. You get me?" Danny asked, sitting on the tile next to the bassist.
"Nah, I'll be fine. Shouldn't be here for too much longer." Dougie mumbled as he closed his eyes and sipped more water.
"You sure? I could call Tom or Harry. They'd be over in a minute." Danny offered, pulling his phone out.
"Seriously, I'm all good. You know how Harry gets around barf anyway…" Dougie chuckled, rolling his eyes subtly.
"Still…" He trailed off, observing his friend. "Maybe if I just give them a call, so that they can come and check on you at some point." Danny added, mostly just talking to himself. Dougie didn't even bother to reply as his friend put his phone to his ear.
Dougie barely heard the conversation they had as his face ended back up in the toilet bowl. There was no way he actually had that much guck in him! He'd loose half his body weight by the end of it.
"All right, Dougs, I have to go now. Tom will be over in a half hour or so to check on you. Call if you need anything, alright?" Danny checked, meeting the young bassists eye.
"Yeah, yeah. Now go get your guitar fixed." Dougie mumbled, sending Danny away. With a last Goodbye, he left Dougie alone in his house. He pulled away from the toilet again, leaning his back against the cupboards of his sink. Throwing up sucked.
Dougie suddenly remembered that Danny had brought in his mail. Wasn't Riha's letter due today? He reached up over his head and pulled down the pile, flipping through the normal junk mail and bills.
Riha Anderson
Dougie smiled softly as he pulled the pale white envelope away from all of the dark gray ones. Not wanting to upset his stomach with sudden movements, he slowly and carefully pulled back the fold, revealing normal writing paper. As he gently unfolded the letter, he sipped his water one more time, hoping to keep it down.
Hey Dougie!
So I figured that I'd be a rebel and write on normal A4 paper. You know, be unique and different, that sort of thing. By the way, you go out to Chinese Food a lot. I'm pretty sure it's unhealthy.
I don't know what to say about girls having complex minds, apart from the fact that we love having complex minds. I bet that you guys secretly love it too. You just can't wait to solve the mystery of What Makes Girls Tick? I guarantee that you'll never find out. Men have been trying to decipher us since the Stone Age. How far have they gotten?
And I know what you mean with the whole Sorry For Your Mom thing. It means a lot, so thanks. I kind of feel the same way about your dad, even though I know you hate hearing it.
Ha! Mr. Hill thinks that I'm lying when I say that you're really a wonderful person! He just looked at me like "Yeah… right…" and walked away. Dude, I'm sorry, but you're on his bad-list for life. My bad…
All right… I've been procrastinating long enough from your questions… here we go…
What is your favorite band (apart from McFly)?
No one beats you guys. It's just a fact…
No, actually, my favorite band of all time is this band from America. They're called Bayside? I don't know if you've heard of them or not… their music and lyrics are kind of just amazing… I've been hooked for years.
Where would you like most to visit in the entire world?
Is it horrible that I've never ever been to another country? Like, not even Ireland or France. Never been on a plane, either. I'm deprived.
I think I'd like most to go to America. I know it sounds cliché and stuff, but come on? New York? You like, have to experience that at SOME point.
Or maybe I'd like to go to Italy. It's supposed to be beautiful there…
When is your birthday?
Actually, my birthday is in two weeks, April 14th. Oh, happy April Fools day, by the way!
What color is your bedroom?
That is a seriously weird question, Poynter. My bedroom is dark blue and I share it was Alicia. She put up those glow-in-the-dark star things last week. They're kind of cool.
When did you first learn how to ride a bike?
I think I was about five maybe? Well, that was when I started with the training wheels. The big girl bike came later.
What is your favorite book series?
Obviously
it's Harry Potter. I'm a fanatic. Ask me any question about the books
and I'll give you an accurate answer. The movies have been shit.
What is your favorite holiday?
Hm… I guess I'll have to be cliché and say Christmas. There's no school, snow, family, presents, and eggnog… it's just great.
Have you ever stolen anything?
Technically, yes and no… well, maybe it's just yes and yes. But I didn't steal from a store or anything! Marcella, she went on holiday to Thailand once, and she stole the blanket off the plane. I stole the blanket from her because it's warm.
Do you play an instrument?
Why yes I do, thanks for asking. I play the piano, though really it's just a hobby. Nothing that I'd do as a career or anything, like you guys. I'm like a closet pianist.
Do you like any sports?
Oh god, I'm as uncoordinated as a slinky. I drop everything and fall over stuff… It's so embarrassing. Seriously. Actually, I prefer writing and stuff. It's must less hazardous to my health.
That's kind of ironic, isn't it? That working out is hazardous to my health? I've never heard of that before.
Oh, and I agree that we need for a new word apart from Pal. Seriously, that's the most ridiculous word ever. Might as well be best buddies forever! Oh god, I'm back in nursery school…
Hey, tell your manager that I do know his niece. She's really nice, actually. Every now and then we'll sit together and lunch and stuff. Rebecca is probably the coolest girl in our class, I'd say though. She just has this aura of cool. Weird that I think that way.
Do you realize that you gave me your house address on the back of a masseuse card? Don't know if you planned it or not, but Dougie, since when can you give people professional massages? And is your name really Carl Ernestine?
Thanks for the address, by the way… Do you know how long it took me to actually find your P.O. box number? Dude, I checked four different websites and phone books. And now you just hand me your house address? God, if I knew it was that easy I wouldn't have done all that stuff in the first place.
Hey, kind of off topic, but do you know how hard Crème Brule is to make? We have to make it in my Home Economics class and seriously, I've literally blown stuff up trying to make it. Things were flying EVERYWHERE.
Why do I need to know how to make this stuff anyway? It's not like I'm going to spend hours of my life cooking this stupid dessert for houseguests. I'll just go out and buy them cookies or something! Seriously, I don't need to make posh food. Cookies are better anyway.
Actually, Crème Brule tastes really good. It could kick a cookies ass any day. I can't believe that I just compared it to a cookie…
All right, Doug, I got to go. I'm done with cooking for a while so I'm just going to order pizza tonight. Got to go call for delivery!
Sincerely, (can I just tell Mr. Hill that you'll kill him if I keep saying that?)
Riha
Dougie laughed as he refolded the papers. His stomach was starting to feel better and he wasn't sure if it was because he finally got all the toxic stuff out of him, or if Riha's letter upped his spirits. Did he feel well enough to walk to his living room to get some paper to respond? Or would the motion set him off all over again?
"Hey, Doug! Where're you, man?" Dougie heard Tom call as he entered the house, sounding concerned.
"Toilet!" Dougie called back, sliding Riha's letter back into the envelope and hiding it inside his hoodie pocket.
"Dude, it smells like major barf in here." Tom laughed as he entered the roof, waving his hand in front of his face dramatically.
"Open the window then." Dougie told him, pointing to the little window on the wall. Tom walked over and fought with the lock, trying to pry it open. It must've been rusty due to the water evaporation from the showers.
"Know what? Let's just leave the door open. It'll vent out that way." Tom reasoned, opening the door wider.
Dougie nodded his head, though quickly regretted it. Nausea washed through him again, causing his stomach to stir.
"Damn," he mumbled as he leaned over the toilet again. Tom sighed and refilled Dougie's water glass for the thousandth time, and handed him a towel when he pulled away from the bowl.
"You're really not feeling well, are you?" Tom asked as Dougie wiped his mouth and drank more water. How much could he drink before he exploded?
"No… god, I haven't puked this much in ages." Dougie mumbled, trying to get the nasty taste out of his mouth.
"How long have you been going this morning?" Tom asked, looking worried.
"I don't know… I just remember waking up in bed and feeling like I needed to heave. It was still dark out…" Dougie mumbled, trying to think clearly.
"Dude, it's nearly eleven now!" Tom's face lit up with extreme concern as he sat on the ground next to his friend. "I think maybe we should bring you to the doctors. Just to be safe…" He trailed off as he pulled his phone out.
"But what could they do? I'd just be throwing up at the hospital instead of throwing up in my own home." Dougie replied, a bit bitter.
"It's just a precaution, Dougie. What if you pass out and hit your head or something?" Tom was working himself up, as he left messages on Harry's, Danny's, and Fletch's voicemails. He Gio last, letting her know what he was doing.
"I don't know what's going on. How long do people normally throw up for? It's been at least like… six hours, he says…. Yeah, I'll take him to the E.R., just in case." Dougie stopped listening as he talked to his girlfriend, loosing interest in the conversation.
"Shit…" He mumbled, his stomach stirring. Would he ever get a break?
"All right, he's throwing up again. I'm going to get him a bucket and take him now. Talk to you later, bye." Tom hung up and waited for Dougie to finish up.
"Stay here while I grab you some clothes and stuff, okay? Do you have any small trash cans or anything?" Tom asked as he stood up and started out the bathroom door.
"Um… yeah, I think under the sink in the kitchen I have one… Ugg…" Dougie leaned back into the toilet.
Tom rushed out of the room and gathered up some of Dougie's things, leaving the bassist alone. Had he really been vomiting for six hours? The time just seemed to mesh together to him. But god was he tired…
"Okay Doug, let's go. I've called into the Emergency Room, too. They know you're coming so we shouldn't have to wait too long." Tom informed him as they slowly walked through the house and outside. Dougie realized that he wasn't wearing any shoes, though he didn't really care. It felt good to have the cold ground touch his skin.
The ride to the hospital was quite easily the worst car ride of his life. He threw up constantly, whenever Tom would make a sharp turn or stop suddenly. London driving was the worst…
"Okay, we're here. Um… maybe you should dump the bucket out before we go in… actually, I'll do it. Here, give it to me…" Tom trailed off, pulling the bucket from Dougie's fingers as they stood beside Tom's Mini.
Dougie watched, motionless, as Tom walked over to a tree and dumped out the disgusting puke. Dougie didn't really want to watch, but he was scared that if he moved more of that vomit would come up.
They made their way into the E.R., and Dougie was proud when he only had to stop once. His throat hurt from the acid coming up, and he coughed quite a lot.
"Are you Dougie Poynter? And Mr. Fletcher?" The nurse at the front desk asked as they entered the room.
"That's us." Tom assured her, taking Dougie by the elbow and leading him after the nurse.
"So you've been vomiting for how long, Mr. Poynter?" She asked as they settled him into a wheel chair.
"Since before dawn…" He muttered, trying not to open his mouth too wide. The wheel chair was making him nauseous.
"Were you drinking last night?"
"No… I think I ate some bad beef, though." Dougie mumbled, closing his eyes.
"That explains some of it… did anyone else eat the meat?
"No… the girl I was with was a vegetarian."
"Okay, Mr. Poynter, thank you. I'm going to have you get into this Johnny and slide into bed. Mr. Fletcher, would you come outside with me and answer a few questions?" The nurse asked as she handed a nightgown to Dougie and led Tom back into the hallway.
The room Dougie was in was small and white. There were no lights on and the bed was freshly made.
He stood up from the wheel chair and placed the trash bucket lightly on the bed while he stripped off his clothes. Riha's letter fell out of his pocket and he quickly bent to pick it up.
Crap…
He waited a moment after he threw up, careful not to move. He slid the Johnny on slowly and got himself into the bed, carefully tucking Riha's letter under the pillow behind him.
There was a knock on his door and the nurse reentered with Tom right behind her, still looking worried.
"All right, Mr. Poynter, the doctor will be in to see you soon. Just make yourself comfortable and try to relax. We have a new bucket for you," She handed him a pale pink bucket, almost the exact same as his old one, except the new one had a plastic bag inside it, ready to hold whatever he spewed out.
"I'll just take your old one and put it in the wash." She said, trying not to look inside at the contents.
As she left, Tom sat on the edge of Dougie's bed, looking worried.
"Tom, I'll be fine. It's just food poisoning." Dougie assured him, his eyes drooping slightly as he talked. He was so tired…
Dougie woke up a few hours later and groaned. Ew, he threw up in his sleep. That was disgusting.
"Oh good, you're awake. Here, we have a new Johnny for you. My name is Dr. Brunswick. We ran a test while you were out, and it turns out you just have a very active case of Staphylococcus. Basically it's food poisoning, though it's not too horrible. Mostly it causes those infected for vomit profusely for up to two days. It's nothing to worry about unless you can't keep your fluids down, and you friend Mr. Fletcher told me that you were doing just fine. I think, just to be safe, we'll keep you here until tomorrow. Just to make sure that everything is moving smoothly." The doctor spoke in a very pompous tone, talking to Dougie as though he had just saved his life.
"So… I'm just going to keep puking for two days?" Dougie asked, feeling disgusted.
"I'm afraid so, son. Now, I just have a few questions about what food might've caused your reactions. You see, Staphylococcus isn't normally caused by eating meat, but by lettuce and other vegetables like that. You told Nurse Ellis that you though you'd eaten bad meat?" The doctor looked interested as he sat on the edge of Dougie's bed, waiting.
"Um… I had a date last night and I took the girl to Friday's. Um… I had a burger and she had a salad." Dougie said, thinking back.
"Your burger had lettuce and tomatoes on it?
"Yeah, and onions, too."
"Have you called your girlfriend today? To see if she's okay?" The doctor asked, looking concerned.
"Oh she's not my-" Dougie began before Tom, whom he hadn't see lurking in the back of the room, spoke up.
"She's fine. I called Danny to check." He told the doctor, sounding impatient. Dougie had a feeling that they had discussed this all before.
"Alright, Mr. Poynter. Thank you for your help. Now rest up so you can get better, okay?" The doctor said kindly, standing up and leaving the room.
"I've got to go, Doug. Gio's worried sick and visiting hours are over. Is there anything you'll need before I go? Danny says he'll be up to spend the night with you." Tom told him as he pulled his jacket on.
"Actually," Dougie began, his mind thinking clearer, "could you get me a pad of paper? And a pen? Oh, and an envelope too?" He asked, trying to sound innocent. Tom smiled and rolled his eyes as he left the room, returning moments later with Dougie's request.
"Some lyrics bopping around your head?" Tom asked. Always the songwriter…
"Something like that." Dougie shrugged his shoulders, waving goodbye as his friend left the room. He waited a moment to make sure he was really gone before he withdrew Riha's letter from under his pillow, opened it, and began to write his response.
Hey Riha,
You will never believe where I am right now. Or maybe you would believe it. Who knows?
I'm in the hospital because my dip of a best friend set me up on a blind date with a girl and the restaurant that I took her to had food poisoning. Just my luck, right?
I've been puking for hours, and I won't mention it again because it's nasty. Tom and Danny have helped me a lot today, but Harry can't because he's got a weak stomach. (If he knew I told you that, he'd throw me across the room, sick or not.)
Hey, technically it's his fault I'm here in the first place. I mean, if he just kept to his own business I wouldn't have to have taken the girl out last night. Want to know how our wonderful blind date ended up? I dropped her off at Danny's house because she's been dying to meet The Danny Jones! God, I'm laughing just at how pathetic it was.
She was nice, though. Danny better have been good to her.
Now onto your letter…
I think that it's good we stopped writing on weird paper objects. The only options that I have here besides the paper I'm using now would be my charts. I kind of need those…
And we men have NOT been trying to figure you women out since the Stone Ages! We have LIVES, you know! I mean…well… actually, you're right. Our lives totally revolve around women. Goddamn…
And about the dad thing… it's not that I don't like it when people say their sorry, but it's like… I hate it when people feel like they HAVE to say something, you know? Like they just have to bring it up. Like their not sure how I feel about it, so they settle with an "I'm Sorry" hoping to get me to tell them how I feel. It's pretty much bologna.
When I wrote 'bologna' I had to sing the Oscar Meyer song. I've never had to spell bologna before.
Anyway.
I'll just have to go talk to Mr. Hill myself. Ha, what would you do if I just randomly showed up in your classroom, walked up to Mr. Hill and was like "really, I'm not a freak! That girl in your classroom is telling lies about me! Fail her!"
Yeah. Be afraid.
Now, onto your responses to my oh-so-amazing questions.
I have no idea who Bayside are. I'll have to look them up. It's a complete and utter shock that you've never been out of the country, though I won't hold it against you. Wohoo for birthdays! It's awesome that yours is coming up. Now I can get you something. I love the glow-in-the-dark star things. It's a cool way to be afraid of the dark. I have no clue why I asked the bike question. Maybe a biker rode by when I was thinking of it… I like Harry Potter too, but not as much as Tom does. He's obsessed. Seriously, he'll go on forever about them. He calls it "a masterpiece." I love Christmas too, especially because of the long break I always get from work. I mean, I love McFly but it's great to have time off. BAD GIRL. Stealing is not good. And you did even worse then Marcella because you stole from a criminal. She'll set her psycho cousin on you. I think it's awesome that you play piano because I have no idea how to play so I sound like a four-year-old whenever I sit down in front of one. And I'm just as uncoordinated as you are. You'll never ever catch me in a game of football. Seriously.
Sorry that my responses were so jumbled. I've been sick while replying… and I really did want to respond to everything. Blah I hate being sick!
I'm sorry if I gave you a weird signal by giving you my address on the back of a masseuse card. No, I don't offer massages, BUT I might if you ask nicely. Tom's told me that I'm pretty good with my hands. (Sorry for the joke… poor, poor, poorrrrr!)
And I'm glad that you're using my address now. I used to have to search through all the fan mail for your letters, and when I'd find them, I would have to wait until the guys were gone to read it… So yeah, I guess sending your letters to my place is just easier for everyone.
Ugh… this room doesn't even have a T.V. or anything to keep me entertained. I left my ipod back at my house, too. Gosh, how can people get better in places like this? I'll probably just end up going to an insane house. Boredom…
So I've got to go. Well… actually, I don't. What have I got to do anyway? I'm just worried that if I write to much it won't all fit in the envelope. I hope your Crème Brule worked out… it's one of my favorite desserts. I didn't know that it was hard to make, though. Maybe for that class you should just buy some and like… hide it under the table until you teacher leave, and then bring it up when class finishes. That would kind of be epic.
Talk to ya later, Riha!
-Dougie
Dougie stared down at his letter as he finished writing and shook his wrist in small circles. All of those signings and autographs had paid off, seeing as his arm only hurt a little after all the writing. He wouldn't be surprised if he ended up causing serious damage to his wrist while in the hospital, as he could easily picture himself writing to her just to skip the boredom…
He suddenly remembered Saskia's words, shouting loudly in the completely silent room. Did he like Riha? Could he actually fall for someone he'd never met? Never even seen a picture of?
Maybe he was just scared to admit it. He loved talking with her, but what if in real life she wasn't what he thought she was? Would it be horrible of him to change his mind, just based on appearance?
Dougie's thoughts raced around his head, mashing into one another. He was so bored…
And so tired… so lazy… and so, so sick.
As he leaned over the basin one more time, he grabbed the envelope Tom had brought him. He slid his letter inside while scribbling Riha's name and school address on the front.
Dougie fell asleep with the both letters tucked safely between his hands as his thoughts turned into his dreams.
