94 Dougie's POV
I let Harry go off to find Danny, after he had explained that the poor guy was getting really, really stressed about all of this, settling myself and Buzz on the sofa, putting on Peppa Pig for him to watch.
It was actually quite calming to watch, if I was being honest. I felt myself relax as the colourful characters worried about a fire station or something, the warm weight of Buzz in my lap, his presence a small comfort too. It was what I needed after that conversation with Tom, a cool down time, where I didn't have to think, I could just cuddle a baby and watch inane cartoons, letting everybody else sort themselves out.
I didn't mean that harshly, it was just... I wasn't very good with emotional conversations, or giving out advice, even when I half knew what I was talking about. I was always worried I was saying it wrong, or acting like I knew everything when I didn't.
And, talking about what happened to me, and my own recovery, it was exhausting. Just remembering going through that myself, feeling so alone and scared all the time, trying desperately to figure out how to be myself again, it brought it all back up. All those memories of the bad days, the worse days, and the absolute worst day, and everything in between. I hated remembering, thinking back to it, even when it was necessary. And talking about it with someone who was going through worse, well, let's just say that it was tough. It took a lot out of me just to talk to my therapist, or Harry, about how I felt, but talking to someone else, offering support and advice about their own issues? It was worse, especially when they weren't in the best states of minds. I wished I could write it all out first, but it was near impossible to do that, as conversations like that weren't planned in advance. I wished they were though, so I was prepared, and knew what I was saying.
Soon, we were joined by Harry, who curled up around us, and Danny soon after that. He looked almost as bad as Tom did, freckles standing out sharply against his washed out skin, cradling his hand to his chest a bit too. Judging by the redness of his knuckles, he'd punched a wall again. Danny hadn't done that since his dad had left his mum, nearly ten years ago.
He didn't say anything about how he was feeling though, instead deciding to take Buzz in his arms, holding him like a human teddy bear. Buzz didn't seem to mind much, leaning himself against Danny's chest and watching his show quietly, like this was utterly normal. Though, I guess for him, there wasn't much of a 'normal' to be had. Nothing really spoke of normality, what with things changing so constantly around him. Poor kid probably learnt to adapt to whoever was with him at the time.
Tom though, he didn't turn back up again, so it was up to us to take Buzz to bed. It was no problem, actually quite fun with three of us, making huge fusses over the baby, making a mess of the bathroom, which Harry dutifully cleared up. I feared we were going to make Buzz too hyped up to sleep, but once Danny got him dried, dressed and in bed, reading a story to him, he dropped off in no time, curled up sweetly in his blanket, chubby hand holding onto one of his new toys.
It was only when we went to go back downstairs again that we heard Tom in his room, speaking quietly like he thought we wouldn't hear him that way.
"I-I'll try. It's just... it feels wrong, to do it. To decide for others. I'm not... I haven't done it in a long time." he was whispering, clearly still on the phone to his therapist. And by the sounds of it, opening up a bit. Good for him, really trying to open up. That was arguably the toughest part of therapy, opening up to someone about your feelings. Especially after a big emotional upheaval he'd just gone through this evening.
"Come on Doug, let him talk in private." Harry gentle pulled me and Danny away, before we heard anymore.