sunshine_173 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sunshine_173) wrote2011-11-05 01:54 am
sunshine_173) wrote2011-11-05 01:54 am
Entry tags:
Infinity: Chapter 6
Title: Infinity
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sunshine_173
Rating: G
Pairing: BellDom
Summary: Matt is a piano protégé. Dom is a painter who excels passed many his age. They meet at a young age and strike up an instant friendship. From friends to lovers, this is their story, spanning over a course of over two decades.
Feedback: I'm a comment whore. Every time I read one, my heart goes *tingle*
Disclaimer: I don't own Muse, Matt or Dom. If I did, unspeakable acts would be committed.
Warning: I feel so redundant with this. NOTHING HAPPENING. If there was, it would be considered child pornography, and that shit ain't kosher.
Note: I know. I. Know. It's been nearly 10 months. I don't know what to say, tbh. I've tried writing. Infinity, CC, anything. All I could really do was push out a few drabbles here and there but the block of writer's has never been has strong with this one has it was the last several months. I'm happy though. Excited that I finally figured out what the fuck to do with this chapter and I was so ecstatic when I finally was struck with inspiration, much like the last paragraph of this chapter, a few hours ago. This was the fastest I've ever written a chapter, and I feel like it bodes well for the rest of this weekend. Idk what I'll feel like writing, but I will write something, my dearies. Thank you so much for hanging around and I totally understand if you gave up on it. Big thanks tolalalive23 for practically forcing my lazy arse to write this Wednesday night, which prompted me to have the desire to finish it tonight. Literally did all my homework that was supposed to be given to us Thursday and Friday two days early just so I'd have a free weekend of WRITING. Also, thanks to sheerpoetryfor being my last minute beta. She wins all the awards <3 <3 Well, I don't know what more to say. soo..have fun and thank you!!!!
10 April, 1993
It’d been nearly three months since Dominic had last heard from Matthew, the memory of how their conversation had ended so abruptly flooding his mind whenever his mother asked if he’d spoken to him. In honesty, he didn’t know what to tell her. The excuse that Matthew was grounded and simply unable to contact him only lasted the first couple of weeks, and after that, Dominic had just shrugged whenever he was questioned.
To say he was worried was a heavy understatement, the memory of the sadness and worry in the young voice as he suddenly whispered goodbye a constant in Dominic’s thoughts. Dominic could only hope that Matthew was unharmed and that the only reason for their lack of communication was school. He tried to not let his mind stray too far into believing that Matthew had tired of their short friendship, had found another boy – or worse, girl – to be his friend. Dominic learned that when he thought of that, an unfamiliar pang would strike in his chest, causing a frown to wash over his face and his mood to automatically fall.
Dominic found himself analyzing his friendship with Matthew continuously. He thought it odd that, despite having only known him for almost four months, he was so attached and protective of the younger boy. In the short time before that phone call, the blonde had learned of the bullying that Matthew continuously went through at school, his height and thinness considered “pathetic” and “girly”. When Matthew had confided in him a selection of names he was called, Dominic had felt a surge of anger and helplessness, and all he wished was to be in front of the boy and tell him that he wasn’t a sissy or the more popular “poof”, but brilliant and talented.
When it came to Matthew’s home life, Dominic didn’t know much other than him mentioning that his mum and dad treated him as if he were invisible. The noise and shouting he’d heard on the other end of the line worried him, and he wondered if it was a consistent thing that Matthew had to deal with. Yet again, all Dominic wanted was some form of contact, but every time he attempted to call him, no one answered. After a while, Dominic just stopped trying.
He couldn’t help but wonder if the phone line had been disconnected or if they got a new number, or worse, Matthew decided to withdraw from their friendship and stopped answering in hope that Dominic would get the hint. There was no point in denying that the last possibility made him terribly sad, and truthfully the blonde didn’t know why. He had Tom, and he had Morgan. He’d known them all of his life. And yet when compared to Matthew, neither of them came close to filling the gap in his life that the younger boy left.
It confounded him. In such a short time, he’d become so dependent on Matthew to the point that their separation was practically all he could think about. It was almost as if he’d become obsessed with it. He thought that if he at least had some sort of closure about why Matthew ended the call so abruptly and ceased to speak to him, then he would be able to let him go and stick him in the category of Another Failed Friendship in Dominic Howard’s Extensive Life. It frustrated him that he wasn’t even allowed that luxury.
Sighing, Dominic pushed himself off of his bed, the afternoon sun peeking out from behind a cloud and shining through his window. It was still chilly even though it was mid-spring, the blonde rubbing his hands together for warmth as he searched for the blanket he usually kept folded on the end of his bed. He found it and wrapped it around his shoulders, tugging his socks back in place as he shuffled over to the corner of his room where the easel his mother gave him for Christmas stood.
He gazed at the blank canvas propped up against the wooden tripod and was disheartened by the lack of desire he felt to give life and color to the spread of white before him. Glancing to the right, his box of paints sat on the ground beside the easel, every color and shade of the rainbow stacked and organized neatly within. Again, no inspiration struck him. Dominic sighed again and crouched down before the box, grabbing a few random colors and a large, flat paintbrush. He stood up, giving the stack of homework on his bed a glare, and pulled his desk chair over to the canvas.
Dominic plopped down with a yawn and opened the cap on one of the bottles. He stared at it hopelessly, his eyes darting back and forth between the vivid red acrylic and the crisp whiteness of the canvas. Impulsively, he simultaneously squeezed the body of the paint bottle and flicked his wrist, a splattered line whipping across the diagonal of the rectangle instantly. Arching his eyebrow at the bright slash through the canvas, he repeated the motions in the opposite direction, a scarlet X now dripping down the center-right side.
Dominic frowned, irritated with the fact he felt absolutely nothing. Usually when he painted, he would become calm, and any past worry vanished the moment he became involved with that magnificent array of color. Painting was his form of escape from the loneliness he felt, even before he knew of Matthew’s existence. Whenever he shut his door and turned on his radio and sat down before his easel, his whole body would relax and serenity would fill the room. Yet presently, all he felt was that continuous gaping void. Emptiness filled him as he lowered his gaze to his lap.
A sudden knock at his door caused him to jump, his hand clasping tightly around the paint bottle and causing a large glob to squirt out. He could faintly hear his mother’s voice before she cracked open the door, her eyebrows raised at the sight of red covering her son’s face, hands, and canvas.
“Are you okay, dear?” Mrs. Howard asked with a smile in her voice.
Dominic stared blankly at his mother before she started laughing. She opened the door the rest of the way and stepped in, making a bee-line for the small bathroom. Dominic shook his head at the ceiling, unclenching his hand and peeling the bottle from his palm.
He looked up when his mother walked out of the bathroom, a box of tissue in her hand, and headed towards him. “You made quite the mess, Dommie,” she said grinning, her grey eyes shining as she leaned down to peck her son on the top of his head. “Are you feeling alright?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. You just surprised me.” She began to wipe paint off his nose and cheeks, his downcast eyes causing her forehead to wrinkle with concern.
“Ah, I apologize, dear. I was just checking in.” She pulled out several more tissues and handed them to Dominic before she walked the short distance to his desk and set the box down, turning back to perch on the edge of his bed and look at her son.
Dominic wiped the paint off his hand, closing the bottle and setting it down on the floor where his paintbrush fell. He could feel his mother watching him and he slowly raised his eyes to questioningly stare back. “Yes, mum?”
She waited a beat before smiling softly. “Nothing, really. You just have a letter in the mail.”
“That’s cool.” Dominic raised an eyebrow as he glanced behind him to see where his blanket had fallen.
“It’s from Teignmouth.”
Dominic froze for a second before he continued reaching for the blanket, hoping his mother didn’t catch his reaction though he knew without a doubt she did. She was a mother, after all. They could creepily catch anything. Anything.
“Oh?”
“Oh.” She stood up, smoothing out the lines in her skirt. “It’s on the kitchen counter if you wish to read it. I’m going to go take a nap, so will you please wake me up in an hour?”
Dominic didn’t reply, his eyes fixed on the center of the red X as he prayed that the letter was from Matthew. He’d never given Matthew his address, but the hope and possibility that it was from him caused a little bubble of joy to build inside him.
“Dominic!” His mother repeated again, his zoning out causing him to not hear her calling his name.
“Yeah?”
“Wake me up in an hour, will you?”
“Yeah, sure. No prob. An hour. See you then.” Dominic smiled at her, standing up from his seat and wrapping the blanket tighter.
His mother smiled as she turned to exit his room, pausing before she crossed the threshold. “Oh, and Dominic?”
“Yeah?”
“Sit up straight; you look terribly depressed hunched over like that.” With that, she left his room, the sound of her heels hitting the wooden floors echoing in the hallway.
Dominic snorted, excitement and trepidation filling him as he followed after her, the quiet of his shuffling feet a contrast to the clicking of her footsteps as she went down the stairs. He was both dreading seeing who the letter was from and impatient, his main fear that it wasn’t and had nothing to do with Matthew. He was the only explanation though for his grandmother really had no reason to contact him, their relationship not all that close.
He hopped off the last step, the kitchen counter and the small white envelope that sat upon its ebony surface directly in his line of sight. Hurriedly, he slid across the tile floor and his heart just about burst when he saw scrawled writing resembling Matthew’s on the backside of the envelope. Grabbing it, he turned it around and ripped it open, folded yellow construction paper resting inside.
With shaking hands, he pulled it out of the envelope, a nervous smile stretching across his face and his fingers worked at unfolding the paper.
Finally, after a moment passed, he flipped it around to find what was Matthew’s handwriting filling the middle of the paper, and Dominic couldn’t withhold the giggle that came out of his mouth.
Dom,
Im sorry that I hung up on you like I did and that it took so long for me to reach you again. Truth is, my dad disconnected the phone for a couple weeks before he decided to change the number. I guess he didnt like that I was talking to somebody he didnt know, though really I dont know why he acts like he cares. Im fine, in case you were worrying or are or I dont know, I dont really blame you if you dont wanna talk to me anymore since its been three months. But youve gotta know that I wasnt mad at you, I just really didnt know you’re number and my dad wouldnt let me go to my grans house till this week. Or I guess last week for you. I dont know how long itll take for you to get this letter, but again I just wanted to say I was sorry and that everything is cool over on my side. Well not really but in a way yeah, Im good. I guessed that we could like be penpals or something. I can just give my letters to my gran and shell mail them for me and you can send them to her and shell give them to me. It’s a bit secret agent, yeah? Well I dont really know what else to say. So I hope youll forgive me and that ill get a letter from you in a couple weeks.
Cheers, matt.
Dominic finished reading the letter, the smile that was on his face before wider and brighter. He reread it again, the knowledge that Matthew still wanted to be his friend and simple inconvenience had caused the separation quickly setting in. He did a little hop and a spin and turned to run upstairs to his room, the image of a vibrant and colored canvas dancing behind his eyes.
Author:
sunshine_173Rating: G
Pairing: BellDom
Summary: Matt is a piano protégé. Dom is a painter who excels passed many his age. They meet at a young age and strike up an instant friendship. From friends to lovers, this is their story, spanning over a course of over two decades.
Feedback: I'm a comment whore. Every time I read one, my heart goes *tingle*
Disclaimer: I don't own Muse, Matt or Dom. If I did, unspeakable acts would be committed.
Warning: I feel so redundant with this. NOTHING HAPPENING. If there was, it would be considered child pornography, and that shit ain't kosher.
Note: I know. I. Know. It's been nearly 10 months. I don't know what to say, tbh. I've tried writing. Infinity, CC, anything. All I could really do was push out a few drabbles here and there but the block of writer's has never been has strong with this one has it was the last several months. I'm happy though. Excited that I finally figured out what the fuck to do with this chapter and I was so ecstatic when I finally was struck with inspiration, much like the last paragraph of this chapter, a few hours ago. This was the fastest I've ever written a chapter, and I feel like it bodes well for the rest of this weekend. Idk what I'll feel like writing, but I will write something, my dearies. Thank you so much for hanging around and I totally understand if you gave up on it. Big thanks to
lalalive23 for practically forcing my lazy arse to write this Wednesday night, which prompted me to have the desire to finish it tonight. Literally did all my homework that was supposed to be given to us Thursday and Friday two days early just so I'd have a free weekend of WRITING. Also, thanks to sheerpoetryfor being my last minute beta. She wins all the awards <3 <3 Well, I don't know what more to say. soo..have fun and thank you!!!!10 April, 1993
It’d been nearly three months since Dominic had last heard from Matthew, the memory of how their conversation had ended so abruptly flooding his mind whenever his mother asked if he’d spoken to him. In honesty, he didn’t know what to tell her. The excuse that Matthew was grounded and simply unable to contact him only lasted the first couple of weeks, and after that, Dominic had just shrugged whenever he was questioned.
To say he was worried was a heavy understatement, the memory of the sadness and worry in the young voice as he suddenly whispered goodbye a constant in Dominic’s thoughts. Dominic could only hope that Matthew was unharmed and that the only reason for their lack of communication was school. He tried to not let his mind stray too far into believing that Matthew had tired of their short friendship, had found another boy – or worse, girl – to be his friend. Dominic learned that when he thought of that, an unfamiliar pang would strike in his chest, causing a frown to wash over his face and his mood to automatically fall.
Dominic found himself analyzing his friendship with Matthew continuously. He thought it odd that, despite having only known him for almost four months, he was so attached and protective of the younger boy. In the short time before that phone call, the blonde had learned of the bullying that Matthew continuously went through at school, his height and thinness considered “pathetic” and “girly”. When Matthew had confided in him a selection of names he was called, Dominic had felt a surge of anger and helplessness, and all he wished was to be in front of the boy and tell him that he wasn’t a sissy or the more popular “poof”, but brilliant and talented.
When it came to Matthew’s home life, Dominic didn’t know much other than him mentioning that his mum and dad treated him as if he were invisible. The noise and shouting he’d heard on the other end of the line worried him, and he wondered if it was a consistent thing that Matthew had to deal with. Yet again, all Dominic wanted was some form of contact, but every time he attempted to call him, no one answered. After a while, Dominic just stopped trying.
He couldn’t help but wonder if the phone line had been disconnected or if they got a new number, or worse, Matthew decided to withdraw from their friendship and stopped answering in hope that Dominic would get the hint. There was no point in denying that the last possibility made him terribly sad, and truthfully the blonde didn’t know why. He had Tom, and he had Morgan. He’d known them all of his life. And yet when compared to Matthew, neither of them came close to filling the gap in his life that the younger boy left.
It confounded him. In such a short time, he’d become so dependent on Matthew to the point that their separation was practically all he could think about. It was almost as if he’d become obsessed with it. He thought that if he at least had some sort of closure about why Matthew ended the call so abruptly and ceased to speak to him, then he would be able to let him go and stick him in the category of Another Failed Friendship in Dominic Howard’s Extensive Life. It frustrated him that he wasn’t even allowed that luxury.
Sighing, Dominic pushed himself off of his bed, the afternoon sun peeking out from behind a cloud and shining through his window. It was still chilly even though it was mid-spring, the blonde rubbing his hands together for warmth as he searched for the blanket he usually kept folded on the end of his bed. He found it and wrapped it around his shoulders, tugging his socks back in place as he shuffled over to the corner of his room where the easel his mother gave him for Christmas stood.
He gazed at the blank canvas propped up against the wooden tripod and was disheartened by the lack of desire he felt to give life and color to the spread of white before him. Glancing to the right, his box of paints sat on the ground beside the easel, every color and shade of the rainbow stacked and organized neatly within. Again, no inspiration struck him. Dominic sighed again and crouched down before the box, grabbing a few random colors and a large, flat paintbrush. He stood up, giving the stack of homework on his bed a glare, and pulled his desk chair over to the canvas.
Dominic plopped down with a yawn and opened the cap on one of the bottles. He stared at it hopelessly, his eyes darting back and forth between the vivid red acrylic and the crisp whiteness of the canvas. Impulsively, he simultaneously squeezed the body of the paint bottle and flicked his wrist, a splattered line whipping across the diagonal of the rectangle instantly. Arching his eyebrow at the bright slash through the canvas, he repeated the motions in the opposite direction, a scarlet X now dripping down the center-right side.
Dominic frowned, irritated with the fact he felt absolutely nothing. Usually when he painted, he would become calm, and any past worry vanished the moment he became involved with that magnificent array of color. Painting was his form of escape from the loneliness he felt, even before he knew of Matthew’s existence. Whenever he shut his door and turned on his radio and sat down before his easel, his whole body would relax and serenity would fill the room. Yet presently, all he felt was that continuous gaping void. Emptiness filled him as he lowered his gaze to his lap.
A sudden knock at his door caused him to jump, his hand clasping tightly around the paint bottle and causing a large glob to squirt out. He could faintly hear his mother’s voice before she cracked open the door, her eyebrows raised at the sight of red covering her son’s face, hands, and canvas.
“Are you okay, dear?” Mrs. Howard asked with a smile in her voice.
Dominic stared blankly at his mother before she started laughing. She opened the door the rest of the way and stepped in, making a bee-line for the small bathroom. Dominic shook his head at the ceiling, unclenching his hand and peeling the bottle from his palm.
He looked up when his mother walked out of the bathroom, a box of tissue in her hand, and headed towards him. “You made quite the mess, Dommie,” she said grinning, her grey eyes shining as she leaned down to peck her son on the top of his head. “Are you feeling alright?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. You just surprised me.” She began to wipe paint off his nose and cheeks, his downcast eyes causing her forehead to wrinkle with concern.
“Ah, I apologize, dear. I was just checking in.” She pulled out several more tissues and handed them to Dominic before she walked the short distance to his desk and set the box down, turning back to perch on the edge of his bed and look at her son.
Dominic wiped the paint off his hand, closing the bottle and setting it down on the floor where his paintbrush fell. He could feel his mother watching him and he slowly raised his eyes to questioningly stare back. “Yes, mum?”
She waited a beat before smiling softly. “Nothing, really. You just have a letter in the mail.”
“That’s cool.” Dominic raised an eyebrow as he glanced behind him to see where his blanket had fallen.
“It’s from Teignmouth.”
Dominic froze for a second before he continued reaching for the blanket, hoping his mother didn’t catch his reaction though he knew without a doubt she did. She was a mother, after all. They could creepily catch anything. Anything.
“Oh?”
“Oh.” She stood up, smoothing out the lines in her skirt. “It’s on the kitchen counter if you wish to read it. I’m going to go take a nap, so will you please wake me up in an hour?”
Dominic didn’t reply, his eyes fixed on the center of the red X as he prayed that the letter was from Matthew. He’d never given Matthew his address, but the hope and possibility that it was from him caused a little bubble of joy to build inside him.
“Dominic!” His mother repeated again, his zoning out causing him to not hear her calling his name.
“Yeah?”
“Wake me up in an hour, will you?”
“Yeah, sure. No prob. An hour. See you then.” Dominic smiled at her, standing up from his seat and wrapping the blanket tighter.
His mother smiled as she turned to exit his room, pausing before she crossed the threshold. “Oh, and Dominic?”
“Yeah?”
“Sit up straight; you look terribly depressed hunched over like that.” With that, she left his room, the sound of her heels hitting the wooden floors echoing in the hallway.
Dominic snorted, excitement and trepidation filling him as he followed after her, the quiet of his shuffling feet a contrast to the clicking of her footsteps as she went down the stairs. He was both dreading seeing who the letter was from and impatient, his main fear that it wasn’t and had nothing to do with Matthew. He was the only explanation though for his grandmother really had no reason to contact him, their relationship not all that close.
He hopped off the last step, the kitchen counter and the small white envelope that sat upon its ebony surface directly in his line of sight. Hurriedly, he slid across the tile floor and his heart just about burst when he saw scrawled writing resembling Matthew’s on the backside of the envelope. Grabbing it, he turned it around and ripped it open, folded yellow construction paper resting inside.
With shaking hands, he pulled it out of the envelope, a nervous smile stretching across his face and his fingers worked at unfolding the paper.
Finally, after a moment passed, he flipped it around to find what was Matthew’s handwriting filling the middle of the paper, and Dominic couldn’t withhold the giggle that came out of his mouth.
Dom,
Im sorry that I hung up on you like I did and that it took so long for me to reach you again. Truth is, my dad disconnected the phone for a couple weeks before he decided to change the number. I guess he didnt like that I was talking to somebody he didnt know, though really I dont know why he acts like he cares. Im fine, in case you were worrying or are or I dont know, I dont really blame you if you dont wanna talk to me anymore since its been three months. But youve gotta know that I wasnt mad at you, I just really didnt know you’re number and my dad wouldnt let me go to my grans house till this week. Or I guess last week for you. I dont know how long itll take for you to get this letter, but again I just wanted to say I was sorry and that everything is cool over on my side. Well not really but in a way yeah, Im good. I guessed that we could like be penpals or something. I can just give my letters to my gran and shell mail them for me and you can send them to her and shell give them to me. It’s a bit secret agent, yeah? Well I dont really know what else to say. So I hope youll forgive me and that ill get a letter from you in a couple weeks.
Cheers, matt.
Dominic finished reading the letter, the smile that was on his face before wider and brighter. He reread it again, the knowledge that Matthew still wanted to be his friend and simple inconvenience had caused the separation quickly setting in. He did a little hop and a spin and turned to run upstairs to his room, the image of a vibrant and colored canvas dancing behind his eyes.