The Long Surrender: 13/??
Jan. 5th, 2011 10:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lalalive23Title: The Long Surrender
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lalalive23
Pairing: Belldom
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Swearing and sadness
Summary: AU. Matt moved to Spain immediately after his lover left him to continue his work on the Spanish guitar. When Dom takes a holiday with his new fiancee, his world gets turned upside down and nothing is ever the same again.
Feedback: Not gonna lie, I'm a feedback whore. I get the shakes without it.
Disclaimer: I don't own Muse. If I did, they sure as hell would not be let out of the naughty closet. I don't make money off this. If I did, I would be a rich lady and not distracting myself from writing an undergrad thesis that is somehow much bigger than I.
Note: It has been too long since I've been in this universe and LORD, I have missed it. Life got a bit crazy, as we can see. Between finals, gigs, moving back home, Christmas, and the one off stories, it feels like years since I've touched this. Well, it has, technically! I had a difficult time getting back into this because I felt I had been away form it too long. That said, while I may not have worked on this, I have known EXACTLY where I wanted this chapter to go since I finished Chapter 12. I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. As for Written in the Walls, that should be coming soon too. I'm trying to use my winter break to the fullest.
I send a tank full of sex and men tomillionstar and sunshine_173 for being bit readers, cheerleaders, inspiration givers, and two of the finest friends a girl could ask for <3
Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12
Gazing up into Dominic's grey eyes, Matthew fought to catch his breath. He was panting, delirious from the either the lack of air or the force of the kiss. He would never be sure, but in the seconds after their lips had parted he was sure that Dominic had never looked so beautiful. Glowing in the sun light and sweating in the heat, red lips swollen, he looked like a vision from an erotic dream. His mind was empty, no thought fighting to break the serenity the kiss had given him. In an almost catatonic state, he felt himself smile.
"I'm not gay," Dominic breathed, not looking away from Matt's eyes. His chest was heaving, and Matthew registered the action as the start of a furious panic.
The words hit him like a train, his own chest halting, breath locked between two quivering lungs. "What?" he whispered.
Furiously shaking his head, Dominic's eyes widened as if in fear. "I'm not gay. I didn't mean to do that. I didn't mean..." The sentence drifted into thin air, but Matthew knew exactly what he meant. And he wanted to hear him say it.
"What exactly did you mean then?" he said quietly, trying to remain calm.
Dominic's eyes swept from wall to wall, his hands coming to rest on his hips as his face screwed up into an expression of confusion. "I don't know. It just happened, you were just -"
"I was just what Dominic? There? Convenient? Tell me." Matthew found himself becoming furious, his blood boiling with such a furious rage, he was sure he had never experienced the sort before.
"No!" Dominic said, panicked and shocked. "No, you were speaking Spanish."
Matthew let out a bitter laugh. "So that gave you permission to kiss me?"
"No!" Dominic said, finally letting his anger show. "When you speak Spanish...I just..." He never finished the thought and instead moved to another topic. "Look, why are you getting so mad? It was just a kiss."
"I have a right to be angry!" Matthew's arms flailed before him uncontrollably. "You don't just kiss people because they're speaking Spanish. What aren't you telling me?"
"Nothing!" Dominic shouted, leaning forward. "It was just a kiss, ok? Get over it!"
"No, I'm not. Because you don't have any right to just kiss me. What the fuck kind of person are you?"
"It was just a KISS, Matthew. It meant nothing!" Dominic ran his hands through his hair, his cheeks becoming flushed with anger.
"NOT TO ME!" Matthew shouted, pounding his hand to his chest. The backs of his eyes began to sting with tears but he refused to allow himself to cry in front of the blonde.
Dominic stood, flabbergasted by the words, his breathing entirely uneven. "What?" he asked.
"It was not" Matthew began slowly, his lip starting to quiver, "nor will it ever be, just a kiss to me. You don't," he punctuated the word with a sharp 't.' "get to kiss me and not have a reason. So, I am going to ask you again. What the fuck kind of person are you?"
Dominic's eyes narrowed at the last statement. "I don't have to stand here and defend my character to you. You know what kind of person I am."
"Do I?" Matt spat. "You act all nice and helpful, and now you just take advantage of me for your own personal pleasure. No, Dominic, I don't think I know you at all."
As Dominic stood before him, Matthew hated himself for the words he had just sent into the atmosphere. He wanted to apologize, to say that he was being silly for saying those things. But he wouldn't. Dominic had toyed with his emotions and, right then, he refused to forgive him.
"I am not going to listen to this," Dominic said as he turned on his heels to head toward the kitchen. "You're over fucking reacting." He bent to pick up his things and Matt felt childish as he kicked Dominic's shoes at him.
"Good, because I don't fucking want you here." He crossed his arms over his chest and fought with his emotions. He felt as though he were in a silent torture, unable to scream without looking crazed and unable to cry without looking weak.
"Call me when you're back to fucking normal," Dominic spat as he walked out of the door.
The slam resonated through the silent flat, and Matt nearly felt himself collapse from overwhelming emotion pooling in his heart. Leaning against the wall that divided the kitchen from the living room, he slid down until his knees were at his chest. The air in his lungs was excruciating, his chest heaving from the effort of breathing calmly. The tears burned as they spilled down his cheeks and he wrapped his arms around his legs, placing his forehead in the dip between his knees. He choked as he sobbed, body shaking with anger and loss, and he let the bitterness consume him.
There was something Dominic wasn't telling him and, on top of feeling as though he had been used for physical pleasure, he felt like Dominic was lying to him, keeping secrets for no other reason than his refusal to admit he was wrong. In his heart, he knew that Dominic would not have kissed him if it meant nothing. Dominic was not the sort to do things without conviction, at least he prayed he wasn't. The kiss had meant everything to him, filled him with an entirely new kind of hope and in an instant, had left him breathless with excruciating disappointment. Hope, it seemed, was an extraordinarily dangerous thing.
The skin on his back and shoulders experienced a chill and he shivered, suddenly so cold in the summer heat. Sputtering and wetting his waistband and abdomen with tears and saliva, he cried shamelessly in the privacy of his house. As agony tore through him, he begged for Dominic to come back in, to tell him he was sorry, that the kiss meant something to him to.
He despised himself for being so desperately pathetic. He knew it wouldn't happen, and the knowledge of this only made him grip his legs tighter, fingers leaving bruises in their wake. Everything around him was dripping with loneliness, the still wet paint emitting fragrances of melancholy and dejection. It hurt worse than when Evan had left, and he hated to admit that.
It was worse because Dominic had lifted him from his darkest place and showed him what it meant to live again, had shown him the brightness of his life.
It hurt worse because Dominic had left him to wallow in his feelings, had somehow twisted them in an attempt to make him believe that they were wrong and sick.
He wouldn't deny them and wouldn't refuse them, as much as he wanted to. And for the first time in his life, he hated the fact that he was in love.
~~
As soon as Dominic exited the flat he immediately wanted to run back in. Paused outside the door, he stared at the stairs looming before him, gasping for breath and immediately feeling the guilt rip at his insides. He turned, gazing longingly at the door he had just thrown shut, suddenly unable to catch his breath. Running a hand through his hair, he paused at the back of his neck to fist his fingers in the strands, brow furrowed in confusion and guilt. Yes, he had kissed Matthew. Yes, he had lied to him in the worst of ways. And yes, the kiss had meant everything to him.
He will never know why he couldn't say the words out loud, but as he walked towards the door and rested his head against the wood, he wished he could shout them through the barrier and beg for forgiveness. The sound of Matthew's sobs washed over him and he allowed himself to suffocate in them. Tears wetting the wood, he silently cried with the brunet before pushing away and headed down the stairs without any destination in mind.
No where in him could he find the desire to go home, back to Julia who would no doubt question him on why he had returned so early. In truth, he didn't want to look at her. Matthew had vehemently questioned him on his character and he had childishly stalked out of the house because he wasn't ready to admit out loud that he was a vile human being.
To hear Matthew question him with such force had left him breathless, and as he struggled to formulate an adequate answer, it dawned on him that no matter what he said, someone would get hurt. He had kissed Matthew and completely disregarded Julia. He had kept secrets from Matthew, and forced the brunet believe that the single best moment in the past month of his life meant absolutely nothing. He had most certainly used Matthew, because he had no self control and decided that his own selfishness was more important than the feelings of two other very important people.
Part of him was furious. Matthew knew that he was engaged to be married. Why would he return the kiss with as much fervor if knew what the consequences were? Why didn't he push him off, make him think? Why would he let himself be kissed if he was so wounded from his previous break up? Matthew was as much to blame as he, and as he walked down unfamiliar streets, he took the thought and tried to feel dignified for finding his own side of the argument.
But he couldn't. Matthew had clearly said that the kiss meant something to him, and clearly implied that he had feelings for him. It should have been incredible, the moment was incredible, until he tarnished it with his words. He knew exactly what he was doing when he followed through with the action and only had himself to blame.
'I'm not gay.' The words seemed to haunt him and follow him, whispered memories of his cruelty in his ear.
He turned abruptly and kicked the wall, his converse bending back and hurting his foot from the force. If he wasn't gay, why would he kiss Matthew? Why had the brunet consumed his every thought, every vision? Why had he focused so much of his attention on him? If he wasn't gay, what was he? It would be a lie to say that his affections for Julia weren't waning and the thought made him want to vomit. It was something else he had to confess to his fiancee, and he knew she would leave him. In that very moment, his future looked horrifically empty.
The sun began to set overhead, and he continued to walk in random directions until he found a pub before him. He didn't want to go in, knowing that alcohol was probably the worst thing to have at that moment, but his feet moved without his conscious control. Moving to the bar, he sat on a stool and held his face in his hands. Self-loathing and anger rippled through him, his desire to drink or return to Julia the furthest thing from his mind. He pulled out his mobile, fingers swiftly scrolling through the contacts to rest on Matthew's name without any further action.
"What can I get you?" he heard the bartender ask.
"Vodka tonic." His reply came easily and quickly, before he even thought to stop himself.
Knowing he would only have one, he settled into his seat and remained gazing at the name. He wanted to call, to hear Matthew's voice. What would he even say? 'I'm sorry' was terribly inadequate after the cruel mind game he had played. It would not be enough for Matthew, and it certainly wasn't enough for him. As he pondered his apology, he became sick to his stomach as he realized it was extremely likely that Matthew would never want to speak to him again.
When his drink was placed in front of him, he was eager to feel the burn slide down his throat and erase his mind completely.
~~
Matthew had no idea what time it was or when he had stopped crying. He had fallen to his side at some point during the day and eventually had drifted off into an uneasy sleep that had left him restless and anxious. In the darkness of his living room, he remained unmoving, the smell of the paint leaving him light headed as he had not opened any windows. Beneath the palm of his right hand laid his mobile. Still and unmoving, the object had not vibrated since Dominic had called him to tell him he was on his way over.
The phone call seemed years away, a distant friendship that had faded away as they drifted apart in life. It was a testament to the fact that the past few hours had been the longest he had ever experienced. He had been left twice by people he loved in the span of a month, and it was leading him to believe that he was extraordinarily undesirable.
It was a silly thing to think, considering Dominic was engaged and had kissed him without breaking the ties with his fiancee. But he rejected the logic, and pushed it as far away from him as he could. He didn't want to be reasonable when he could still feel the burn of Dominic's lips on his.
Shutting his eyes once more, he forced himself to sleep in the hollowness of the room. As he drifted into the void between sleep and wakefulness, he wished Dominic would call him just so he could hear his voice once more.
~~
At half one in the morning Dominic pushed opened the door to his flat, mind sufficiently muddled from alcohol. In truth, he hated himself more for staying at the pub for so long, but his other options were remarkably unappealing. Eventually, he forced himself to leave, knowing well he could not stay the whole night and he certainly could not go back to Matthew.
Julia's feet were draped over the arm of the couch, and as he approached he found her fast asleep with a book held gently to her chest. Not bothering to wake her, he turned and went into the bedroom to undress. His skin was clammy, his movements slow. Exhausted from the cocktail of emotions he had experienced throughout the day, he toed off his shoes with little grace. Bumping his hip into the night stand, the glass he usually kept for himself in the morning fell to the floor and shattered.
The noise caused him to wince, though he did nothing to clean up the mess.
"Dominic?" Julia's voice came from behind him and he turned to find her leaning against the door frame, eyes still heavy with sleep. "Did you just get home?"
"Yeah." He didn't bother to lie or explain himself. He turned from her then to undo his belt.
He heard her elicit a soft chuckle, and he hated that the sound was so beautiful. It sounded like silver. "Did you and Matthew celebrate your painting skills?"
The statement was harmlessly sarcastic, but it was exactly the sort of thing he didn't want to hear. Hanging his head, he stopped all movement with his hand. He didn't want to tell her what had happened. "No, we didn't."
The words themselves seemed to chill the air, and he felt as though he could feel her bristle with his curtness.
"Really. Where were you then?" Her words were clipped and equally as cold as his.
"Just out." He tugged off his skinnies and stepped out them.
"It's ok. You can talk to me, you know," she said softly.
"I don't fucking want to talk," he snapped.
"Lovely." He heard her footsteps fade off in the distance.
Turning to face her, he was greeted with the view of her pulling the blanket off the back of the couch.
"What are you doing?" he asked as he walked from the bedroom to the living room.
"You smell like vodka and you're being rude. Excuse me if I don't want to be next to you when you're like this." She busied herself with putting the pillows from the couch onto the armchair before turning and walking passed him to the bedroom.
"Don't you think that's a bit extreme?" He watched her in shock as she took the pillows from her side of the bed and carried them to her make shift bed.
"No it isn't. I'm not putting up with you like this." She climbed onto the couch and took off her reading glasses.
"Like what Julia? Say it."
"Like a right bastard," she said simply. "You always get belligerent when you drink if you're angry. So I am not going to press the issue. When you're ready, you'll talk. But I am too tired to deal with you right now."
"How am I being a bastard?" he said slowly. He knew he was, he just wanted to see how far he could push her. It was something he did when he was drunk, and he hated that trait.
"Go to bed Dominic."
"Not until you come with me." He crossed his arms in defiance.
"Fine. Sleep on the floor for all I care." She turned off the light and turned to her side, facing away from Dominic, promptly ending the conversation.
"Julia, come the fuck to bed."
Julia said nothing, her breathing even and slow. He stood for several moments in the same position waiting for her to react or acknowledge him. When she didn't, he huffed like a petulant child. He walked back into the bedroom and shut the door behind him, still not bothering to clean the glass he had knocked over. Secretly he wished his bare feet would step on it, secretly he wanted to inflict as much pain on himself as possible.
He crawled beneath the sheets and buried his face in the pillow. With deep, heaving sighs, he tried to find the calm the alcohol had provided him. But in the dark bedroom, his thoughts swam with visions of Matthew's heartbroken face, his angry eyes, and his slightly quivering lips.
He remembered vividly the sound of his sobs through the door, and forced himself to know that he caused that.
I did that.
The thought sent an ache in his gut, ripping a new hole for him to feel.
I did that.
Author:
lalalive23 Pairing: Belldom
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Swearing and sadness
Summary: AU. Matt moved to Spain immediately after his lover left him to continue his work on the Spanish guitar. When Dom takes a holiday with his new fiancee, his world gets turned upside down and nothing is ever the same again.
Feedback: Not gonna lie, I'm a feedback whore. I get the shakes without it.
Disclaimer: I don't own Muse. If I did, they sure as hell would not be let out of the naughty closet. I don't make money off this. If I did, I would be a rich lady and not distracting myself from writing an undergrad thesis that is somehow much bigger than I.
Note: It has been too long since I've been in this universe and LORD, I have missed it. Life got a bit crazy, as we can see. Between finals, gigs, moving back home, Christmas, and the one off stories, it feels like years since I've touched this. Well, it has, technically! I had a difficult time getting back into this because I felt I had been away form it too long. That said, while I may not have worked on this, I have known EXACTLY where I wanted this chapter to go since I finished Chapter 12. I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. As for Written in the Walls, that should be coming soon too. I'm trying to use my winter break to the fullest.
I send a tank full of sex and men to
millionstar and sunshine_173 for being bit readers, cheerleaders, inspiration givers, and two of the finest friends a girl could ask for <3Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12
Gazing up into Dominic's grey eyes, Matthew fought to catch his breath. He was panting, delirious from the either the lack of air or the force of the kiss. He would never be sure, but in the seconds after their lips had parted he was sure that Dominic had never looked so beautiful. Glowing in the sun light and sweating in the heat, red lips swollen, he looked like a vision from an erotic dream. His mind was empty, no thought fighting to break the serenity the kiss had given him. In an almost catatonic state, he felt himself smile.
"I'm not gay," Dominic breathed, not looking away from Matt's eyes. His chest was heaving, and Matthew registered the action as the start of a furious panic.
The words hit him like a train, his own chest halting, breath locked between two quivering lungs. "What?" he whispered.
Furiously shaking his head, Dominic's eyes widened as if in fear. "I'm not gay. I didn't mean to do that. I didn't mean..." The sentence drifted into thin air, but Matthew knew exactly what he meant. And he wanted to hear him say it.
"What exactly did you mean then?" he said quietly, trying to remain calm.
Dominic's eyes swept from wall to wall, his hands coming to rest on his hips as his face screwed up into an expression of confusion. "I don't know. It just happened, you were just -"
"I was just what Dominic? There? Convenient? Tell me." Matthew found himself becoming furious, his blood boiling with such a furious rage, he was sure he had never experienced the sort before.
"No!" Dominic said, panicked and shocked. "No, you were speaking Spanish."
Matthew let out a bitter laugh. "So that gave you permission to kiss me?"
"No!" Dominic said, finally letting his anger show. "When you speak Spanish...I just..." He never finished the thought and instead moved to another topic. "Look, why are you getting so mad? It was just a kiss."
"I have a right to be angry!" Matthew's arms flailed before him uncontrollably. "You don't just kiss people because they're speaking Spanish. What aren't you telling me?"
"Nothing!" Dominic shouted, leaning forward. "It was just a kiss, ok? Get over it!"
"No, I'm not. Because you don't have any right to just kiss me. What the fuck kind of person are you?"
"It was just a KISS, Matthew. It meant nothing!" Dominic ran his hands through his hair, his cheeks becoming flushed with anger.
"NOT TO ME!" Matthew shouted, pounding his hand to his chest. The backs of his eyes began to sting with tears but he refused to allow himself to cry in front of the blonde.
Dominic stood, flabbergasted by the words, his breathing entirely uneven. "What?" he asked.
"It was not" Matthew began slowly, his lip starting to quiver, "nor will it ever be, just a kiss to me. You don't," he punctuated the word with a sharp 't.' "get to kiss me and not have a reason. So, I am going to ask you again. What the fuck kind of person are you?"
Dominic's eyes narrowed at the last statement. "I don't have to stand here and defend my character to you. You know what kind of person I am."
"Do I?" Matt spat. "You act all nice and helpful, and now you just take advantage of me for your own personal pleasure. No, Dominic, I don't think I know you at all."
As Dominic stood before him, Matthew hated himself for the words he had just sent into the atmosphere. He wanted to apologize, to say that he was being silly for saying those things. But he wouldn't. Dominic had toyed with his emotions and, right then, he refused to forgive him.
"I am not going to listen to this," Dominic said as he turned on his heels to head toward the kitchen. "You're over fucking reacting." He bent to pick up his things and Matt felt childish as he kicked Dominic's shoes at him.
"Good, because I don't fucking want you here." He crossed his arms over his chest and fought with his emotions. He felt as though he were in a silent torture, unable to scream without looking crazed and unable to cry without looking weak.
"Call me when you're back to fucking normal," Dominic spat as he walked out of the door.
The slam resonated through the silent flat, and Matt nearly felt himself collapse from overwhelming emotion pooling in his heart. Leaning against the wall that divided the kitchen from the living room, he slid down until his knees were at his chest. The air in his lungs was excruciating, his chest heaving from the effort of breathing calmly. The tears burned as they spilled down his cheeks and he wrapped his arms around his legs, placing his forehead in the dip between his knees. He choked as he sobbed, body shaking with anger and loss, and he let the bitterness consume him.
There was something Dominic wasn't telling him and, on top of feeling as though he had been used for physical pleasure, he felt like Dominic was lying to him, keeping secrets for no other reason than his refusal to admit he was wrong. In his heart, he knew that Dominic would not have kissed him if it meant nothing. Dominic was not the sort to do things without conviction, at least he prayed he wasn't. The kiss had meant everything to him, filled him with an entirely new kind of hope and in an instant, had left him breathless with excruciating disappointment. Hope, it seemed, was an extraordinarily dangerous thing.
The skin on his back and shoulders experienced a chill and he shivered, suddenly so cold in the summer heat. Sputtering and wetting his waistband and abdomen with tears and saliva, he cried shamelessly in the privacy of his house. As agony tore through him, he begged for Dominic to come back in, to tell him he was sorry, that the kiss meant something to him to.
He despised himself for being so desperately pathetic. He knew it wouldn't happen, and the knowledge of this only made him grip his legs tighter, fingers leaving bruises in their wake. Everything around him was dripping with loneliness, the still wet paint emitting fragrances of melancholy and dejection. It hurt worse than when Evan had left, and he hated to admit that.
It was worse because Dominic had lifted him from his darkest place and showed him what it meant to live again, had shown him the brightness of his life.
It hurt worse because Dominic had left him to wallow in his feelings, had somehow twisted them in an attempt to make him believe that they were wrong and sick.
He wouldn't deny them and wouldn't refuse them, as much as he wanted to. And for the first time in his life, he hated the fact that he was in love.
~~
As soon as Dominic exited the flat he immediately wanted to run back in. Paused outside the door, he stared at the stairs looming before him, gasping for breath and immediately feeling the guilt rip at his insides. He turned, gazing longingly at the door he had just thrown shut, suddenly unable to catch his breath. Running a hand through his hair, he paused at the back of his neck to fist his fingers in the strands, brow furrowed in confusion and guilt. Yes, he had kissed Matthew. Yes, he had lied to him in the worst of ways. And yes, the kiss had meant everything to him.
He will never know why he couldn't say the words out loud, but as he walked towards the door and rested his head against the wood, he wished he could shout them through the barrier and beg for forgiveness. The sound of Matthew's sobs washed over him and he allowed himself to suffocate in them. Tears wetting the wood, he silently cried with the brunet before pushing away and headed down the stairs without any destination in mind.
No where in him could he find the desire to go home, back to Julia who would no doubt question him on why he had returned so early. In truth, he didn't want to look at her. Matthew had vehemently questioned him on his character and he had childishly stalked out of the house because he wasn't ready to admit out loud that he was a vile human being.
To hear Matthew question him with such force had left him breathless, and as he struggled to formulate an adequate answer, it dawned on him that no matter what he said, someone would get hurt. He had kissed Matthew and completely disregarded Julia. He had kept secrets from Matthew, and forced the brunet believe that the single best moment in the past month of his life meant absolutely nothing. He had most certainly used Matthew, because he had no self control and decided that his own selfishness was more important than the feelings of two other very important people.
Part of him was furious. Matthew knew that he was engaged to be married. Why would he return the kiss with as much fervor if knew what the consequences were? Why didn't he push him off, make him think? Why would he let himself be kissed if he was so wounded from his previous break up? Matthew was as much to blame as he, and as he walked down unfamiliar streets, he took the thought and tried to feel dignified for finding his own side of the argument.
But he couldn't. Matthew had clearly said that the kiss meant something to him, and clearly implied that he had feelings for him. It should have been incredible, the moment was incredible, until he tarnished it with his words. He knew exactly what he was doing when he followed through with the action and only had himself to blame.
'I'm not gay.' The words seemed to haunt him and follow him, whispered memories of his cruelty in his ear.
He turned abruptly and kicked the wall, his converse bending back and hurting his foot from the force. If he wasn't gay, why would he kiss Matthew? Why had the brunet consumed his every thought, every vision? Why had he focused so much of his attention on him? If he wasn't gay, what was he? It would be a lie to say that his affections for Julia weren't waning and the thought made him want to vomit. It was something else he had to confess to his fiancee, and he knew she would leave him. In that very moment, his future looked horrifically empty.
The sun began to set overhead, and he continued to walk in random directions until he found a pub before him. He didn't want to go in, knowing that alcohol was probably the worst thing to have at that moment, but his feet moved without his conscious control. Moving to the bar, he sat on a stool and held his face in his hands. Self-loathing and anger rippled through him, his desire to drink or return to Julia the furthest thing from his mind. He pulled out his mobile, fingers swiftly scrolling through the contacts to rest on Matthew's name without any further action.
"What can I get you?" he heard the bartender ask.
"Vodka tonic." His reply came easily and quickly, before he even thought to stop himself.
Knowing he would only have one, he settled into his seat and remained gazing at the name. He wanted to call, to hear Matthew's voice. What would he even say? 'I'm sorry' was terribly inadequate after the cruel mind game he had played. It would not be enough for Matthew, and it certainly wasn't enough for him. As he pondered his apology, he became sick to his stomach as he realized it was extremely likely that Matthew would never want to speak to him again.
When his drink was placed in front of him, he was eager to feel the burn slide down his throat and erase his mind completely.
~~
Matthew had no idea what time it was or when he had stopped crying. He had fallen to his side at some point during the day and eventually had drifted off into an uneasy sleep that had left him restless and anxious. In the darkness of his living room, he remained unmoving, the smell of the paint leaving him light headed as he had not opened any windows. Beneath the palm of his right hand laid his mobile. Still and unmoving, the object had not vibrated since Dominic had called him to tell him he was on his way over.
The phone call seemed years away, a distant friendship that had faded away as they drifted apart in life. It was a testament to the fact that the past few hours had been the longest he had ever experienced. He had been left twice by people he loved in the span of a month, and it was leading him to believe that he was extraordinarily undesirable.
It was a silly thing to think, considering Dominic was engaged and had kissed him without breaking the ties with his fiancee. But he rejected the logic, and pushed it as far away from him as he could. He didn't want to be reasonable when he could still feel the burn of Dominic's lips on his.
Shutting his eyes once more, he forced himself to sleep in the hollowness of the room. As he drifted into the void between sleep and wakefulness, he wished Dominic would call him just so he could hear his voice once more.
~~
At half one in the morning Dominic pushed opened the door to his flat, mind sufficiently muddled from alcohol. In truth, he hated himself more for staying at the pub for so long, but his other options were remarkably unappealing. Eventually, he forced himself to leave, knowing well he could not stay the whole night and he certainly could not go back to Matthew.
Julia's feet were draped over the arm of the couch, and as he approached he found her fast asleep with a book held gently to her chest. Not bothering to wake her, he turned and went into the bedroom to undress. His skin was clammy, his movements slow. Exhausted from the cocktail of emotions he had experienced throughout the day, he toed off his shoes with little grace. Bumping his hip into the night stand, the glass he usually kept for himself in the morning fell to the floor and shattered.
The noise caused him to wince, though he did nothing to clean up the mess.
"Dominic?" Julia's voice came from behind him and he turned to find her leaning against the door frame, eyes still heavy with sleep. "Did you just get home?"
"Yeah." He didn't bother to lie or explain himself. He turned from her then to undo his belt.
He heard her elicit a soft chuckle, and he hated that the sound was so beautiful. It sounded like silver. "Did you and Matthew celebrate your painting skills?"
The statement was harmlessly sarcastic, but it was exactly the sort of thing he didn't want to hear. Hanging his head, he stopped all movement with his hand. He didn't want to tell her what had happened. "No, we didn't."
The words themselves seemed to chill the air, and he felt as though he could feel her bristle with his curtness.
"Really. Where were you then?" Her words were clipped and equally as cold as his.
"Just out." He tugged off his skinnies and stepped out them.
"It's ok. You can talk to me, you know," she said softly.
"I don't fucking want to talk," he snapped.
"Lovely." He heard her footsteps fade off in the distance.
Turning to face her, he was greeted with the view of her pulling the blanket off the back of the couch.
"What are you doing?" he asked as he walked from the bedroom to the living room.
"You smell like vodka and you're being rude. Excuse me if I don't want to be next to you when you're like this." She busied herself with putting the pillows from the couch onto the armchair before turning and walking passed him to the bedroom.
"Don't you think that's a bit extreme?" He watched her in shock as she took the pillows from her side of the bed and carried them to her make shift bed.
"No it isn't. I'm not putting up with you like this." She climbed onto the couch and took off her reading glasses.
"Like what Julia? Say it."
"Like a right bastard," she said simply. "You always get belligerent when you drink if you're angry. So I am not going to press the issue. When you're ready, you'll talk. But I am too tired to deal with you right now."
"How am I being a bastard?" he said slowly. He knew he was, he just wanted to see how far he could push her. It was something he did when he was drunk, and he hated that trait.
"Go to bed Dominic."
"Not until you come with me." He crossed his arms in defiance.
"Fine. Sleep on the floor for all I care." She turned off the light and turned to her side, facing away from Dominic, promptly ending the conversation.
"Julia, come the fuck to bed."
Julia said nothing, her breathing even and slow. He stood for several moments in the same position waiting for her to react or acknowledge him. When she didn't, he huffed like a petulant child. He walked back into the bedroom and shut the door behind him, still not bothering to clean the glass he had knocked over. Secretly he wished his bare feet would step on it, secretly he wanted to inflict as much pain on himself as possible.
He crawled beneath the sheets and buried his face in the pillow. With deep, heaving sighs, he tried to find the calm the alcohol had provided him. But in the dark bedroom, his thoughts swam with visions of Matthew's heartbroken face, his angry eyes, and his slightly quivering lips.
He remembered vividly the sound of his sobs through the door, and forced himself to know that he caused that.
I did that.
The thought sent an ache in his gut, ripping a new hole for him to feel.
I did that.
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Date: 2011-01-07 06:09 pm (UTC)Thanks bb! I'm trying to get it up ASAP.