Hello! Here's chapter 11, hope you like it! Please review, I love knowing what you all think of this :D. And thank-you for all the reviews so far!
Also, just in case it is unclear, the lines are chapter breaks, for the split narrative in this chapter!
Shivering, with the sound of his teeth chattering in the cold filling his head, Dougie felt his legs come to a stop. He had no idea where he was, or how long he had been walking for, but he could not go any further. Looking down, he saw his bandaged ankle considerably more swollen than it had been previously, the bandage now cutting into his skin. He lowered himself onto the floor against a wall, his leg poking out in front of him as he slipped off his shoe, and tried to loosen the bandage from cutting off the blood supply. This proved harder than he had thought, having only one fully functioning hand, that was only functioning to about half its normal capacity due to the almost anesthetic properties of the cold. He breathed into his hands, trying to defrost them, but to little avail, the warmth of his breath being little match to the fight put up by winter's air.
Looking at his surroundings, Dougie tried to figure out where he was, and how he was going to get home. This would probably count as one of the stupid things Tom had made him promise not to do, he thought, guilt washing over him as his mind turned to his friends. While he did not know how long he had been walking for, he was certain it had been quite some time, and that Tom would have woken up to find him gone and the front door unlocked. He'd wished he'd thought to bring his phone out with him, so that he'd have been able to call them, but he had not been thinking right when he'd left. It was again like his body had been doing things he was aware of, but not fully in control of, making him go along with it by fading out his rational mind.
There was nothing in the area he could recognise. There was nothing in the area to recognise. Dougie sat, slumped against a brick wall that appeared to be of some sort of office block. Trees lined the road, suggesting to Dougie that he had probably walked in the opposite direction of Central London, meaning the likelihood of him being able to find a tube or bus route home were slim. The road was surrounded by concrete and brick block buildings, nothing distinguishable at all. There were hardly any cars parked on the road, and Dougie had not seen a single one drive down since he had been sat there. Realising that he was going to have to walk further in order to get anywhere, but lacking the necessary energy to do so, Dougie decided to rest for a while, pulling his knees to his chest, and wrapping his arms around them for warmth.
Tom sat on the sofa of his living room, Giovanna curled into his right hand side, waiting for news. Rested on Tom's knees were both the landline and his mobile phones, which he stared at, anxious for them to ring, anxious to hear anything, be it news or just vague updates, from the others. In a way, he didn't even mind whether the news he heard was positive or negative, as long as he heard something. Although obviously positive would be preferable. Tom raised his left hand to his mouth and began to chew on his thumbnail, a bad habit from childhood that periodically reoccurred at times of high stress. Giovanna sighed, also wishing that there was something they could be doing other than sitting around waiting, but not knowing what else could be done. The landline's piercing ring interrupted their silence, making Tom jump, before answering it as soon as he realised what was happening.
"Hello? Have you found him yet?" Tom said, his voice frantic with all the worry that had been building up inside him.
"Hello," A robotic female voice came through the phone, "This is an urgent message about your Payment Protection Insur –"
"Fuck off!" Tom shouted at the recorded message, before hanging up the phone. Giovanna shot him a confused look.
"Recorded cold-caller message, blocking up the phone line," Tom explained, worried that in the time taken to answer the phone to listen to the "urgent" message, he had missed something that was actually urgent.
Tom rubbed his eyes, staring back down at the phone. It was driving him insane, not doing anything, but what could he do? Danny and Harry were out looking, and if by some miracle Dougie started thinking clearly for long enough to be able to get back, and Tom wasn't here for him… no, it was best he stayed put. His mind was filled with thoughts of Dougie, as it had been for the past week or so, filled of circular thoughts of how Dougie must be feeling, or what would make him feel better, or piecing together Dougie's potential thought patterns, which brought Tom close to tears. He hated this, he hated this more than he knew he could hate anything in the world, he hated seeing his friend so lost, so unlike himself, a shell of how he once was.
Danny made his was down yet another road, running against the gusts of wind blowing leaves and rubbish in mini tornados on the ground. At the end of the road, he slowed to a stop, leaning forward and resting his hands on his knees, breathing heavily. The running, teamed with the fear of not finding Dougie, had made him out of breath and he was beginning to feel sick. Catching his breath and settling his stomach, Danny leaned his head back up again, feeling the back of his throat burn as he did so. He didn't know where he was running. He'd had a vague idea to circuit around the surrounding roads, and then to follow round the park that was nearby, but, looking around, he seemed to have deviated somewhat from that route.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket to check the time, seeing that is was now nearly 4pm. He had been out searching for six hours already, and it was beginning to get dark. He had to find Dougie. They had to find Dougie. Along with the descending darkness, Danny felt the first signs of rain landing on him. Six hours searching round the local area, and nothing. Danny didn't know what to do. Part of him wanted to go back to Tom's house and try something else, take his car out and see where Dougie could have gotten to. But what if he was somewhere round here that he missed? What if he was in the park somewhere? Thinking that this was probably the best idea he was going to have for the time being, and not wanting to leave any section of the surrounding area unturned in his search, Danny took off running again for the park.
As he ran, his mind wondered to what he would do if he did find Dougie. In a way, he'd almost rather that it was Harry rather than himself to find Dougie. He'd never been particularly good with words, or serious conversations, and he couldn't think of anything he could say to Dougie that didn't sound stupid going through his head as he thought of it. He didn't know what he'd do if Dougie had zoned out again, if he had to bring him back down to Earth. Danny shook his head, trying to shake the thoughts out of his brain, and instead fill it with as many positives as he could think up. He was doing everything he could do right now to find Dougie, one of them had to find him eventually, right?
Turning round yet another near-identical street corner, Harry switched his sidelights for headlights, it was now dark, and it was getting harder to see anything other than the road. His windscreen wipers swished from side to side, clearing the rain from his vision, which was also not helping his ability to see if Dougie was anywhere around. He was now so far away from where they lived that it seemed virtually impossible to Dougie to be, but he'd tried everywhere else he could think of. He'd driven to Central London, gone round every street he could get to, and nothing, no sign of his friend, so he had turned round and gone the other way, further out, further north, towards the edges of the train lines and the outskirts of their part of London. London was like that, little bubbles that you could know like the back of your hand, and then the great expanse of the unknown of all the rest of it. Someone could live there for their whole life and not know the vast majority of it. It was like looking for a needle in a very large, very busy, and very hostile haystack.
As he thought about Dougie, tears began to prick at his eyes again. He turned the music on in the car to block out his thoughts. An old Brand New album came on, and Harry left the volume on low, loud enough to hear, to interrupt any thoughts he may be having, but not loud enough to actually pay attention to it. He wanted to be thinking of Dougie, to keep his mind on finding him, but pictures of Dougie alone, or hurt, or even dead kept flying into his head. Those were what he was trying to block out. He tried to think rationally, tried to think of how worrying would not get him any closer to his friend, but he couldn't. Eventually, when his tears were becoming too thick to see through with the darkness and the rain, Harry pulled over, parking on the side of an empty road. He didn't know where he was, he didn't recognise the area. Everywhere had started to look the same anyway.
Turning off the engine, Harry opened the car door to get some fresh air, swinging his legs round so he was now facing the open door, trying to snap him out of his crying and into action, into doing something. This was almost as bad as if he weren't doing anything, doing something that wasn't working. Every road he drove down, he was half expecting to see Dougie on, but wasn't surprised exactly when he didn't. He kept trying to will it to happen, to will Dougie into being where he was looking, but of course, he could not create a version of reality where this happened. Instead it was disappointing street after disappointing street. He took out a cigarette and lit it with the car lighter, the glowing red metal being able to withstand the wind that was blowing through the car's open door. He felt guilty for stopping, for taking a break from looking, but he had been driving practically round in circles for so long now without stopping, that he felt like keeping going would tip him over the verge of sanity.
And then, while smoking out the car door, Harry saw it. In the middle of the pavement, next to a brick wall, on a road surrounded by almost nothing noteworthy in the slightest, was a shoe. A black and white, slip on Vans trainer, to be exact. Harry took of towards the object, picking it up when he reached it. He held the sodden shoe in his hands, inspecting it, turning it round, trying to identify it. It was the same as Dougie's, but it could just be a coincidence. Same size too though. Harry tried to rationalise that a shoe was not concrete evidence, that loads of people must lose shoes in London daily, so that he wouldn't get his hopes up, but he could not. Dougie had been here, he must have. Harry took out his phone, and dialled Tom's number, holding it to his ear. At least it was some progress.
Hope you liked it! Please review, it means so much to me to know that people like this story :D. Next chapter will be coming soon.