Love Is A Battlefield (Alan Wilder x Martin Gore)

9: Each Breath You Take

Both she and her sister gasped as they saw the tip of the body of water over the treetops.

"How cool is that, girls?" Alan interjected to distract himself further.

"Really cool!" The elder girl answered.

Their journey continued further down the road, and as it did, the two children began to feel restless.

"Papa, my tummy's rumbling." Esme complained, suddenly cranky and tired.

"Mine too, Mae. Good thing we're almost there, aren't we, Fletch?" Martin replied and tapped the back of Andy's seat as he asked.

"Yep, only got this roundabout and we'll be there." Andy smiled through the rear view mirror.

But Martin couldn't help but notice the dread on Alan's face when Andy mentioned the roundabout.

"Hey, you doing okay, love?" He tapped his shoulder and Alan turned to look at him. "Still fatigued?"

"Yeah, a little, but I'll be okay."

"Sure? Remember, we're staying in the beach house overnight and you could always go and have a rest when we get there."

"No, no, I'm alright. I think I'll feel much better once I'm out in the open." Alan assured him.

"Okay, if you're sure." He pecked his husband on the cheek before settling back into his seat beside his two daughters.

Alan hated lying. He knew he wasn't a liar. He just hadn't told the truth.

~~~~~~~
Four hours later, 3:52pm, the beach:

An issueless day it had been, for the children had played in the ocean, collected crabs and built sandcastles with their parents and uncles for hours. The sun and their moods remained sky high as long as the afternoon lived.

Alan was so immersed in he and his daughter's celebrations that he had forgotten about the pain, so much so that he began to believe it would not return. However, as he stood beneath the gazebo drying his hair, he felt what he had dreaded, returning much stronger than hours before.

"Ugh," He lied his towel onto the table and hunched over, his hand pressed into his abdomen. "Uughh."

Martin was passing Poppi and Esme their cups of lemonade when he noticed Alan's state from the distance across from them. His face immediately dropped and drained of its colour.

"One second, girls." He got up from the table they sat at and jogged over to his husband.

"Alan, love, are you okay? What's the matter?" He gently shook Alan's arm.

"N-No." Alan muttered. "I feel- I feel terrible."

"Okay, let's get you sat down for a minute."

As Martin tried to help Alan stand up straight again, he yelled and his legs began to buckle beneath him. Taken aback, Martin panickingly dragged a deckchair close to them and helped Alan into it.

"Please, please tell me what's wrong, Alan."

But Alan couldn't respond, for he foamed at his mouth and tears streamed down his cheeks. He began to feel delirious with pain and he cried out uncontrollably.

"Oh my gosh." Martin could hear only Alan's screams and his own heartbeat as it pounded with fear, looking around in search of help. "Right, you wait there. I'll be right back." He regretfully left his husband's side for a moment and sprinted up to the beach house, where he knew someone would have to be.

He pulled the glass door open and continued running indoors, his chest hurting as he did. Soon enough, he saw Andy sitting in the lounge.

"Fletch, Fletch," He speedwalked to the sofa, prominent panic in his voice.