Written in the Walls: 4/??

[lalalive23]

Title: Written in the Walls
Author: lalalive23 
Rating: PG
Pairing: Bell/Dom and a few original characters.
Summary: Matt and Dom are teachers at a local high school in 1954. They don't want their relationship to be discovered, especially by those they work with, even though they've been living together for nearly 4 years. This is the story of what happens when the school librarian discovers them.
Warning: Fluff and sadness
Feedback: Is nice! I like it loads! Just don't make fun of me, plz <3
Disclaimer: I don't own Muse. I don't make money off this. This never happened. I do, however, own the characters Ellen and Martin. They are mine, so please do not take them. I am willing to share if you want to collaborate on something, but otherwise no touchy plz!
Note: Endless thanks to dolce_piccante, sunshine_173, and millionstar  for being fabulous bit readers, cheerleaders, putting up with my insecurities, and being incredible friends. This story would not exist if it weren't for you ladies <3 Thanks also to myz_bee  for being a fabulous friend. To everyone who commented on the past chapters, I cannot thank you enough. Words cannot express how much it means to me to know you are enjoying this. Enjoy!!

**This is going up now because unfortunately I need to put this story on hold. Mid-terms week is starting for me, and while I only have one paper to write, my internship assigned me four album reviews and a film review due by this Friday. I also have my undergrad thesis that needs to be drafted by next week. It's gonna get stressful. The company I intern for is heading into festival week as of next week for CMJ Music Marathon. So I'll be occupied with that. THEN IT'S MUSE TIME. And my sister is coming to visit. Honestly...I have no idea when I will be getting the chance to work on this again. I want to work on it FOREVER but I can't :( Just know that it's in my heart and my soul. And while you might not see entries about it, the next chapter and many chapters after that have already been drafted in my brain. Anyway, I will shut up now. ENJOY!


Ellen

From the time I was a child, it had always seemed to me that church pews were continuously cold, a fact I would use as an argument to prevent my weekly attendance. It always seemed that no matter how long you sat in them, they would never quite adjust to your body temperature. Quite strange, considering church was supposed to be a place of unbridled comfort.

The numerous silly things that carried over from my childhood to adulthood on the subject of religion made the institution seem more like a preening zoo than an act of worship. Never could I understand the reasoning behind the fancy dress or the somewhat gauche hat styles, a trend I had not adopted much to my mother's dismay.

When I was small, and could not see the priest over the large heads of the patrons in front of me, I would spend the long hours studying the intricate designs in the hat wear, the feather and flower types so extravagant to my young eyes. As a young woman, the distractions were fewer, the hats no longer igniting the same fascination they once held, and so the mind wanders.

Sitting next to Martin, his eyes fixed straight ahead towards nothing in particular, I wondered if he was truly listening, if he was daydreaming. Would he dare? He used to, so long ago. When we were teenagers in Rothdale, we would sit at opposite ends of the pew, passing notes between our mates in the hopes that no one would discover our game. Receiving a folded slip of paper while the priest would ramble was more thrilling in those days than I could imagine. It was a race to see if we could hide it before Mother Superior found us, a test to see who would laugh first. Who won never mattered. What mattered were the stolen kisses behind the churchyard away from prying eyes.

I knew it had been three years since the chaste kisses after church had stopped, though at the time it hadn't bothered me. We could kiss each other in public if we liked, having been married two years previous. I bowed my head in thought, finding myself wishing for any kiss, stolen or otherwise.

I must have looked in a state of prayer, Martin turning to look at me as he cocked a questioning eyebrow. A stubborn flush crept across my cheeks and I offered him a nonchalant shrug, dismissing the action as subtly as I could. He turned away again, no sign of interest or curiosity on his face. Years ago, he would have poked my ribs, insisting that I whisper my thoughts in his ear, the topic urgent and necessary.

On reluctant wings I floated back to the present, acknowledging the priest's sermon for what felt like the first time in hours, though a quick glance at Martin's watch told me it had only been 45 minutes. Father Anthony's voice was soothing and gentle, a voice made for speech and he often relaxed me into a state of daydreaming, though it was hardly his fault I had an active imagination. Many times I found myself picturing him in a position of politics, on our television giving speeches and persuading everyone to trust him. I certainly would have.

For a few moments I forced myself to concentrate on his sermon, his topic of the day honesty and truth. He had been quoting a verse from the bible and I recognized it almost immediately.

"Sisters and brothers, we must all remember the passage from the book of John, 'you shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.'" His soothing voice washed the words over my skin like a light rain, but their impact made me feel weighted and heavy.

"Of course," he continued, "the Psalms reminds us to 'let the lying lips be put to silence.'"

I looked down at my hands folded neatly in my lap, my wedding ring gleaming like a beacon of...what? Could I consider my marriage honest? Could my marriage be a truthful representation of our love? My fingers spun the band around, toying with it as though it were a natural fixation. It was a new habit I had developed since the night I first slipped it from my finger. Of course I would wear it during the day, but instead of sitting on my finger as a piece of pride or nothingness, I had started to look at the metal circle as an impostor of faith.

That habit had gone unnoticed by many people around me, Martin especially. Surprisingly, the one who had noticed me in the process of questioning the gold object was the raven haired teacher.

He had come to my desk after long playful looks with Dominic, passing me a ripped section of paper that had been marked with his scratchy handwriting. I had not noticed his presence, my mind fixed on the ring as I twirled it, round and round, between my thumb and forefinger. His smooth voice startled me out of my thoughts.

"It won't bite, you know," he said with a sly grin. He slipped his gray coat off his shoulder, draping it over his arm as he fixed the braces hooked to his trousers.

An unlady-like jump caused me to interrupt the quiet of the room, his soft chuckle smothered behind an elegant hand. A few students smiled at my actions, and I found myself blushing.

"I'm so sorry," I apologized quietly. "I wasn't-I-You?" My stammering made my blush deepen further and I closed my mouth, my eyes dropping to the surface of my desk. I swiftly slipped the ring back onto my finger, placing my hands neatly on the wood as I regarded his impossibly beautiful face. "How can I help you?" I said simply.

The smile he delivered me seemed to assure me that he understood, though what level we were connecting on I was unsure. It was a reassuring smile and a warming one. "I need these books here," he pointed to the list I had completely forgotten about, "for my class tomorrow."

My eyes traced the elegant digit down to the ripped paper, listing a series of French philosophers I had come to know and love. Sartre, Camus, Beauvoir, the list continued and my heart began to race, a tell tale sign that my over excited blathering was about to begin.

The effort to keep my drabble at bay caused me to purse my lips, giving me what I assume was the impression of a frog and the beautiful man furrowed his brow in confusion at my response. It hit me, then, that he didn't know my name or my demeanor, our first encounter being this and going far differently than I imagined it would. The only option was to inform him exactly why I looked the way I did.

"I've read all of these philosophers. Sartre of course is my favourite. Forgive me, I am trying so hard to...you see, when it comes to literature I can't help myself. I get so excited, I could talk about it for days. I wind up rambling, much like what I'm doing right now, and I really am trying to spare you." I stopped myself with a sigh, studying the way this man had formed his 'C' in Camus' name. It looked bent, as if it could have been an overly large lowercase 'e.'

His musical laugh brought my eyes up, his white teeth gleaming. "I understand that," he said. "Really, far better than you could imagine. I'm Matthew." He held out a perfectly sculpted hand for me to take, and I hesitated, mostly for fear of ruining its delicacy, but also because I had officially learned the identities of my mystery men.

Grasping his hand within mine, I found it to be deceptively strong, flexing as he pulled back to give me one last squeeze. From the corner of my eye, I noticed Dominic standing off to the corner studying our interaction. To be frank, it was not the interaction his eyes are fixed upon. If I were to be correct, his eye line had been focused on either my name plate at the front of my desk, or the curve of Matthew's bum. Logic told me the former, wishful thinking told me the latter.

A chuckle escaped me in the church at the memory, exactly as it had that day in the library, only this time there were judging eyes to examine my actions. I will forever remain in the dark about how loud my chuckle had been, instead I will remember forever the slap to my wrist Martin gave me to make me be quiet.

Never in all our years together had he laid a hand on me in such a way. He did not mean it in an offensive or intentionally harmful way, instead the action was scolding and disbelieving. But still, it felt as though he had backed me into a corner like a predator. I spent the rest of the time at church thinking of nothing, studying the patterns in the cover of bible in front of me. The last 90 minutes seemed to last for decades.

Any other Sunday would find Martin and myself returning home after mass, settling in for our Sunday dinner and spending the rest of the evening reading or, in his case, working. Every now and again, we would invite guests from our neighborhood to join us for dinner, but as they all had families of our own, we essentially kept our Sunday afternoons a quiet affair.

However, Martin had insisted that his mates from work join us that afternoon and it was my job immediately after church to prepare a full Sunday feast. I did not mind cooking for the guys, in complete frankness I found them to be marvelous fellows and I was excited for the change of pace. At least, there would be engaging conversation instead of tense silence.

The kitchen was without a doubt my favourite room in the house, intelligently designed and beautifully decorated, again, to my taste. There was a certain calm about the country feel, the yellow walls and hardwood floors making the room seem as though it belonged in a cottage instead of our expansive Victorian home. Having a double-oven made multi-tasking quite easy and the enormous counter space made working in there feel less claustrophobic. From my position at the sink I could look out into our yard, roses lining the sides and a simple white gazebo in the middle. A swing hung from its center and in the summer it was exactly where one should look first had they wanted to find me.

I never felt more like a true woman than when I had my apron tied around my dress and was preparing a meal. Years ago I would have said it was when I was in the throws of an orgasm, but as the frequency of those moments seemed to deteriorate, the kitchen became the place where I was most in control. Martin never bothered me when he knew I was there, though he used to. It used to be impossible to keep him away, finding fingerprints the frosting of my cakes, or catching him sipping a sauce, or licking his lips in the aftermath. Deep in my heart I ached for those days, but knowing that the kitchen was a neutral space in the battlefield of my house made the moments of privacy special.

I worked quickly, preparing the roast as if it were second nature as I hummed a song softly to myself. Martin's footsteps could be heard in the creaking of the floorboards as he prepared the house for guests, though what else could be done escaped me. We rarely entertained and my need to make use of my hands during some afternoons meant the house was more often than not spotless.

About an hour later, the first guest arrived, and I knew his voice instantly. Ethan Craft, Martin's partner at the office, was a cheery and kind man. I had only met him once at the company picnic, but his gentle demeanor and impeccable sense of humour made him impossible to forget.

Through the walls and the doors to the kitchen their conversation was muffled and I was anxious to finish things so I could join them. More guests began to arrive, and just as I had finished setting the table, Martin entered the dining room with Ethan, David Reale, Issac Wolstern, and Timothy Elroy.

"Ellen," Martin said casually. "You know everyone, right?" He beckoned me to come to his side.

I smiled happily, the first legitimate smile to cross my face since my chuckle during mass. Placing the final knife on the table, I wiped my hands on my apron and moved to stand next to him. "Yes, of course. We all met at the -" I could not finish my sentence.

"At the company picnic." Martin finished the sentence for me. I closed my mouth with a tight smile. "You all remember Ellen."

Ethan was the first to come forward, nodding and shaking my hand. "You're looking well, love." HIs smile made his face light up, and I'm sure it made mine do the same. "Everything getting on well?"

"Yes, quite well actually!" I loved speaking to Ethan. He was a good natured, handsome man. His red hair was thick and floppy, giving his brown eyes a sienna hue. The other men nodded their hellos, smiling bright and looking at Matin as if to say 'well done, mate.' The attention made me blush. "How are-" Ethan cut me off.

"Dinner almost ready, dear?" he said looking at me sharply. It was a strange encounter. I merely nodded my head and returned to the kitchen to get the food, my brow knitted in anger and confusion. It was out of character and out of place for Martin to cut me off as he did. If there was one thing I could not stand, it was being spoken over, answered for, or interrupted as if my own opinions or voice did not matter. In completely honesty, it made my blood boil.

I served the men in silence, taking my seat opposite Martin as their conversation flowed easily. To my vast irritation, Martin continued to cut me off as I attempted to converse with Isaac about a novel he was pushing to get published. It seemed like an interesting novel, one I knew I would love to read, but Martin ended the topic as if my input was meaningless. He continued in this fashion through to dessert, when I finally had enough and forced myself into a vengeful silence.

Ethan was the only one who seemed to notice my discomfort. As he was putting his coat on to leave after dinner, he turned to me as I held the door for him, concern painting his features. "Are you alright, love?" he asked softly, Martin coming from the kitchen to bid his friend goodnight.

"I'm alright, thank you. Please don't be a stranger?" I asked looking past him to Martin who was now a few feet away. I backed up a few steps, opening the door wider and shutting my mouth as if nothing had happened at all.

"Have a good night, mate!" Martin said cheerily, a tone in his voice I had not heard very often. "See you on the morrow!"

Ethan tipped his hat in farewell, and I turned to the dining room as Martin shut the door behind him. I heard his footsteps follow me, and I unconsciously braced myself for whatever oncoming storm I was about to endure. Strangely, as we stood picking up plates, he said nothing. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary to him.

I couldn't take it anymore.

"Tell me what you want me to be," I said briskly. I put the plates in my arms down, my hands clutched desperately at the table, sure to be leaving marks on the dark mahogany. "I can do anything, I can be anything. Please, just tell me what you want." I sounded exasperated and frustrated as I attempted to keep my anger at bay.

He stopped putting forks on the plates he held and regarded me with a cruel softness, a kind of softness that was empty of any understanding and full of uninterested confusion. "You don't have to be anything, I don't want to you to be anything," he said simply before turning into the kitchen with his dishes.

My feet could not will themselves to move as my mind processed what he had said. I was not an unintelligent woman and I was quickly able to come to two meanings for those words. Both clenched at my heart with equal amount of force when they were realized to their full understanding.

The first, he did not want me to be anything, to him or otherwise. I hoped that was not what he meant, but that was exactly how it sounded. The second, was that he did not think what we had was uncomfortable. It never crossed his mind that what we had before was different or better. If this was truly how he felt, then there was nothing I could do to salvage what was left.

In the evening darkness of the cool room, I don't know how long I stood there for, listening to the sounds of Sunday night programming humming quietly from the living room in the distance. My breathing was calm and even, a fact which surprised me, as I should have been heartbroken, in disrepair. But time had passed from the moment the knowledge my marriage was collapsing from under my feet first crossed my mind to this moment, and, perhaps, my brain had quietly come to terms with it.

I did the dishes without any sort joy or special attention, and in retrospect I was sure they could have used a second cleaning. However, I did not have it in my heart to care.

I walked by the living room, the sight of Martin in his arm chair glowing from the light of the television irritating me further. With my ring twirling between my fingers, I slipped up the stairs quietly a new resolution on my face and in my heart.

Comments

[argetgarm.livejournal.com]

Ugh, I hate Martin. >>

[lalalive23.livejournal.com]

Me too :( He's such a bastard >.<

Thanks for reading and commenting!!

[ashamedbliss.livejournal.com]

This is just absolutely amazing, really.

Ellen is just such a beautiful character, truly. And Dom's getting caught out, I really do wonder how she'll come into their situation and intergrate with them.

Wow, good luck with everything, I'll be waiting (patiently :P)

[lalalive23.livejournal.com]

Ah!! Thank you!!! *hugs*

You shall find out soon my dear!
/hint

I can't tell you how hard it is to set this aside and focus on school. It's like...not paying attention to it makes my brain go WALLS TIME?? more than ever. :(

Thanks for the wishes bb!

[dolce-piccante.livejournal.com]

oh, ellen *hugs*...you're doing a fantastic job my dear sweet k. you're creating these amazing, fleshed out, interesting, compelling characters that are not matt and dom. it makes the story all the more stronger and all the more real. i adore that dom was peeking at the curve of matt's bum *faints* and i love ellen's voice in this chapter.

MOAR!

ps: yay musetime!! :D :D :D

[lalalive23.livejournal.com]

Darling Lizz <33

IN EXACTLY 7 DAYS WE WILL BE BASICALLY DRUNK WITH EXHAUSTION WAITING FOR DOORS TOGETHER. We will squee and be happy and OH GOD MUSETIMES!!! FUUUU I can't wait *bounces*

I love that you love Ellen.
I love that you love Dom.
I love that you love Dom looking at Matt's prime arse.
I love that you love this story.
I love that you are my moat friend.

Sigh. Can I work on this yet please?

[starlight-myth.livejournal.com]

Wonderful chapter. Your writing is really captivating.

Ellen seems like a smart women. She can clearly see the attraction between our boys. I would say Dom was almost caught there.

Martin is an arsehole. Don't mind my language. He's like the worst husband ever. Poor Ellen.

Good luck with your exams. I'll be awaiting this story :)

[lalalive23.livejournal.com]

Thanks Sweetheart!

Ellen is observant, but let's be honest. With two hotties in your library every day who wouldn't notice? LOL I would live in a library if they were putting on a sneaky show like that for me. hehe

Gurl, swear all you like. Martin is a twatmuffin. I'll say it lol.

Thanks again bb!

[xavje.livejournal.com]

Martin is such an ass :(
I hoped we could see more of the encounter she had with Matthew, but perhaps we'll see more of that in a following chapter, when Matthew discusses it with Dominic? Sad to hear that you won't have time to update this for the coming time, but very understandable. I wish you good luck with your studies and hope you find the time to pick this up again afterwards as it's a very interesting, original story!

Thank you for sharing :)

[lalalive23.livejournal.com]

This story is always the number one priority in my brain. I know it shouldn't be that way but it's my little child at the moment. I want to fuck off with papers, studying, album reviews, etc. just so I can work on this. Le sigh. Soon enough, I shall return with more. Even just replying to comments is making me be like HNGGG WRITE THE NEXT PART. *wheeze*

Martin is a bastard. *nods*

Thanks love!

[millionstar.livejournal.com]

Continues to be amazing, girl!!

Ellen's encounter with Matthew was so pleasing to read (complete with an oggling Dominic, aww LOL!), and I can see why it put a smile on her face whilst sitting there in church.

I will forever remain in the dark about how loud my chuckle had been, instead I will remember forever the slap to my wrist Martin gave me to make me be quiet.

I want to send a certain cat to piss in Martin's cornflakes... and then scratch his eyes out. Asshole, my god, I just can't. And his behavior during the brunch, Ellen deserves so much more than that. :(

He stopped putting forks on the plates he held and regarded me with a cruel softness, a kind of softness that was empty of any understanding and full of uninterested confusion.

.. and there's not much worse than that, that sort of emotionless, empty behavior. I mean, at least if he were angry it would be SOME emotion coming from him. He's so... empty. I am so intrigued, and can't wait to see where it goes honey. I agree with dolce_piccante, your OCs are amazing, and so well written. I adore this fic so hard. <3

I can't wait for more of this, as soon as you take care of the things you need to, that is! *HUGS*

<33

[lalalive23.livejournal.com]

Oh sweet D &hearts

Honestly, Matthew is so gorgeous in my brain. I know I do a shitty job of describing him in print, but just trust me on this. He is a beautiful creature to behold. Well, of course you trust me LOL we have the same thoughts. But honestly, I would be staring at Matt too. Ellen stares just the same, and doesn't know they know. hehe

Send your kitty to Martin post haste! He deserves a good pissing on. Like, ok. Slap on the wrist, but it was not teasing. And then cutting her off. Don't ever fucking interrupt me or undermine my thoughts. It's the one thing I refuse to tolerate. And she will let loose. Soon enough.

I adore your comments. They make me smile so big!!

<3333

[licklepickle.livejournal.com]

Oooo the intrigue builds! What is our heroine gonna do!
I await your next chapter with glee but of course it's all about the college work so get to it missy! Then you have Muse times you lucky lucky thing!

[lalalive23.livejournal.com]

LOl your icon!! Omfg. I love it!!

Next chapter is burning at the tips of my fingers to be written. It's a miracle I haven't turned things in with Freudian slip excerpts LOL.

Soon, soon. I shall send you piccies from ze Muse timez! <33

[eliimo.livejournal.com]

This. <3

Ellen constantly comparing her 'old' life to her present makes me so sad for her, she seemed to be so happy before :(

Of course I would wear it during the day, but instead of sitting on my finger as a piece of pride or nothingness, I had started to look at the metal circle as an impostor of faith.

Oh girl... I just love this sentence. Can't even begin to understand how it must feel in her situation. To feel trapped by just a little piece of metal.

And yes!, she met Matthew! Their encounter made me smile so much!

"It won't bite, you know," he said with a sly grin. He slipped his gray coat off his shoulder, draping it over his arm as he fixed the braces hooked to his trousers.

Images, ahh! Could picture him perfectly saying/doing all of that. And braces, mm! And AWW Dominic! xD His sneak peeking made me all giggly (I'm a lost cause, I know). Can't wait for them to meet all three togehter, it'd just be so lovely, and imagine how good it would do Ellen! She needs a change of everyday and not having to go home to that vacant (but seemingly beautiful) house and total arse to husband.

Never in all our years together had he laid a hand on me in such a way. He did not mean it in an offensive or intentionally harmful way, instead the action was scolding and disbelieving. But still, it felt as though he had backed me into a corner like a predator.

Why do I not like the sound of that at all? :(( I don't think I could take it if he actually do lay a hand on her. I'd probably forget this is fiction and dive headfirst into the screen in pure anger. And how Martin behaved at the dinner? And acting all cool about it? Excuse me, I'll be over here cracking my knuckles.

You write Ellen's voice so flipping well, love it so much!

And while you might not see entries about it, the next chapter and many chapters after that have already been drafted in my brain.

Haha, in my brain too, probably! xD but good luck with school!! Holidays coming up here soon = no life besides from school work. It sucks. And WOOO Muse time! :D:D have a blast (well, duh! lol)!! :D

♥

[lalalive23.livejournal.com]

*swoons* I swear you lace your comments with heroin or something. I am addicted to them.

She has FINALLY met our boys. And now it's only a matter of time before their stories merge into one <3 I am so glad you love the braces image. It was about five in the morning when I added it. I was laying in bed about to fall asleep and he just approached her desk, all messy hair and braces and I was like yes.

The hate you feel for Martin touches me so much. I know that sounds strange to say, but it means I've been doing my job correctly. He isn't exactly a villain, he just is a bastard. And he isn't just a flat character. He has reasons, which will be revealed in good time.

In the same token. your love for Ellen touches me for the same reasons. I am so glad you like her and are cheering for her. She is a good woman, a smart woman. And her true character will be shown soon. I hope you love her as I do.

Bah, I love you and your comments. I shall be posting a Musetimes pic spam here. So keep your eyes peeled, sweetness!!!

[sunshine-173.livejournal.com]

SIGH Martin you dick.

I don't like men like him. At all.

Ellen is a strong woman, though. I feel bad for her but I just know she'll get through anything. And she's a brilliant character. I luff her.

I like your description of Matthew. And Dom staring at his bum. ♥♥♥♥

Good luck with your mid-terms bb.

And Muse times. You already know how I feel about that.

LOVE YOUR FACE. AND WITW.

[lalalive23.livejournal.com]

LOL he is such a cuntmuffin. Positively a wanker.

Matt's arse deserves to be oogled. FOREVAH.

Thanks for listening to me bitch, whine, moan, complain, come up with 6 other stories that I want to write in place of work, faff around, to my ridiculous techno music spams i hurl at you.

I really love you and appreciate you more than you understand. <3

[myz-bee.livejournal.com]

*flails*

don't interrupt me. don't twist my words, ruin my memories with your expectations and whatever you do, don't fucking speak for me unless i'm gagged or choking.

arrrggghhh! you've got me all riled up now!!!

lol <333

[lalalive23.livejournal.com]

YES.


YES.


YES.

TO ALL OF THAT.

Fucking hell, I love you so much! <33333

[moz17.livejournal.com]

My heart goes out to Ellen, I absolutely adore her.

[eskarlata.livejournal.com]

Ellen deserves better. I dunno, she´s a smart woman, passionate and stuff, and I don´t think Martin suits her, with her personality and desires. She should live more, instead of reading so much. It´s a bit sad how enchanted she is with the gay couple, because that means her own life is not interesting at all. She´s trapped.

The bit when Dom stares at Matt´s bum was so cute xD The man is not subtle at all!! LOL

Sorry for the late comment, gonna read the next one right now :)

[kaosspad.livejournal.com]

Ughhhhhhh, Martin. *shakes fist* D: