Chapter Text
The sunlight streamed through the windows of McFly's rehearsal space, glinting off Dougie Poynter’s shiny bass guitar as he bounced from one corner of the room to another. He had just come up with a catchy riff, but as he strummed a few notes, his mind wandered to a buzzing fly stitching wild patterns against the glass. It caught his attention like a shimmery distraction, and he quickly lost track of the music.
“Oi, Dougie! Focus!” Tom’s voice cut through the cacophony, bringing him back to the present moment. But by then, Dougie was already halfway across the room, enthralled by the myriad of colorful posters plastered on the walls, visions of sold-out shows igniting aspirational bursts of energy within him. He muttered under his breath a mix of half-formed melodies and whimsical thoughts, and Tom, rolling his eyes, returned to the rehearsal.
As the band played through their set, Dougie fidgeted, his leg bouncing uncontrollably. He could feel the room’s energy swirling, tugging at him like a gust of wind, and he found himself overwhelmed by the sounds of the drums, the guitars, and the camaraderie. Sometimes it felt like a storm brewing inside him, and when he couldn’t contain it, frustration bubbled to the surface.
“Dougie, chill! You’re not going to fly away, mate!” Harry teased as their practice came to a momentary halt. Dougie chuckled nervously, a hint of embarrassment flashing across his face. Even his friends didn’t realize that their lighthearted jibes cut deeper than intended.
“I just... I needed a break,” he stammered, his eyes darting around, searching for a dot of inspiration. But the bright overhead lights felt too stifling, and the chatter of the guys felt like background noise that ignited his anxiety.
After a few minutes of playful banter, the group began again, this time attempting a new song. Dougie reached for his bass, trying to focus on the rhythm. Mid-way through a verse, he found his mind spiraling again—the strings felt too tight, the lyrics echoed hauntingly, and suddenly the walls felt too close. He put down his bass, his heart racing, and took a deep breath.
“Guys, can we just— I need... just a sec!” he interrupted, his voice trembling. The moment he stepped outside into the cool breeze, he felt a rush of relief wash over him. The chaos inside began to settle as he took in his surroundings. The flowers were blooming, and the sky was cloudless—a stark contrast to the tumult of sound inside.
A few minutes passed before the door creaked open, revealing Danny with that familiar, easy-going smile.
“Taking a little time out, eh? Just breathe. You know you can always talk to us, right?”
Dougie nodded, his heart still pounding but easing. “Thanks, mate. It just gets a bit... you know.”
As they returned inside, Dougie found a renewed purpose. He leaned against the wall, observing the band members busy at work, their passion fueling him like a soft ember in his pocket. While he might often feel on the verge of chaos, it was moments like these, filled with friendship and happiness, that brought him back.
Maybe he didn’t have all the answers, but surrounded by the music and the guys he loved, he felt grounded, ready to find his rhythm amidst the unnoticed storms.