Infinity: Chapter 2A
Oct. 29th, 2010 05:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sunshine_173Title: Infinity
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sunshine_173
Rating: PG
Pairing: BellDom/Original character(s)
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: Is completely welcome. It makes me all sorts of happy. Feel free to critique, but be nice, yeah ^^
Disclaimer: I don't own Muse, Matt or Dom. If I did, unspeakable acts would be committed.
Warning: Nothing really going on here.
Note: EPIC love and thank you's and just plain smothering tolalalive23 and flavoroftea for being awesome bit readers and betas and cheerleaders and just fucking AMAZING. I luff you both. If it wasn't for y'all, this wouldn't exist. THANK YOU to everyone who's been commenting ♥♥
Prologue Chapter 1
23 December, 1992
“Deep in your eyes, a pale kind of jewel, open and closed within your eyes. I’ll place the sky within your eyes.” Dominic sung quietly to himself as he held back the tip of his paintbrush and let it go, flinging paint in a diagonal line across the canvas. He repeated this method several times until there was a sizable amount of yellow-gold in the center. “I’ll paint you mornings of gold, I’ll spin you valentine evenings. Though we’re strangers till now, we’re choosing the path between the stars.” Reaching his hand into a small glass beside him, he wet his fingers and flicked water onto the canvas, smiling softly as swirly looking rivulets ran down, leaving colors blended in their wake. “Falling, falling, as the world falls down.”
He jumped slightly when he felt a hand upon his shoulder, and turned his head to see his mother staring with smiling eyes at his newest work-in-progress. “Beautiful as always, Dom.” She leaned down and pressed a kiss to his hair. “Tell me though, why do you keep painting with blue?” She gestured to the various shades of the background, ranging from the palest cornflower blue to a dark azure, gold splatters and random streaks still running slowly down making it seem like some sort of abstract sun setting over the ocean.
Dominic blushed, looking around at several canvases leaning against the walls of his grandmother’s spare bedroom, all of them orientating around blue. “I don’t know. It’s just been on my mind a lot,” he answered honestly, reaching up to scratch the top of his head.
“Well, it looks lovely, darling. What more are you going to do with it?”
“Nothing really. I’m happy with this.” He glanced out the window. “I think I might go for a walk.” He pushed his seat back, cringing when the legs of the chair scratched against the floor. He dropped his paintbrush in the glass he used earlier, raising his arms and stretching.
“Alright. Be careful. Please wear your heavier coat this time, Dominic.”
Sighing, faux-exasperated, he rolled his eyes. “It’s so…heavy, though.”
“Honey, that’s the point. No coat, no walk.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll wear it.” Grinning, he hugged her from the side. “Love you, Mum.”
“Love you too. Now hurry before you wake up Nana. She’d have my head if she knew I was letting you walk outside while snow was on the ground.”
He giggled and turned, searching for his coat and hat.
Stepping outside, he exhaled slowly and watched his breath disappear in the air. He looked around, the street covered in snow, invisible ice lining the pavement, the sky dark and cloudy. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he ducked his head down and started walking quickly, aimlessly, assuming the direction of the shore. Whistling, he kicked a pile of snow, sending the timeless and pristine white flying with the light breeze, hitting the ground a few feet away.
The wind howled a low, mournful echo, causing the trees around him to sway, branches creaking. A bird alighted on the ground next to him, a sweet sing-song melody coming forth from its small beak, the sound traversing through the air and giving the atmosphere a more positive feeling. Dominic smiled at it, closing his eyes and raising his face to the sky, repressed rays of sunlight softly falling over his cheekbones and reflecting off his hair, golden light seeming to halo around his head. He walked blindly for a moment till he stopped and stood still when a small break in the clouds appeared, the sun coming out in full and warming him.
He reached up, pulling off his hat and stuffing it in his coat’s pocket. He ran his hand through his longish hair, ruffling it and sweeping aside his fringe. The wind died down but the chill remained, and soon he was wish he’d brought his scarf.
Dominic opened his eyes finally, blinking several times before starting off again at an average pace. He started to hum a tuneless song, a small, subconscious smile on his face.
If he was being honest with himself, he had no real idea why he’d been in such good spirits the last few days. He figured it was the upcoming promise of gifts, but whenever he’d catch himself grinning for no reason or singing some random song, his mind would automatically think of his brief meeting with Matthew Bellamy.
Dominic didn’t quite understand why he had this sudden affinity with the small, pale, ebony haired boy. He had friends at home, plenty, but he’d always felt, though maybe not fully realized, that something was missing. When he met Matthew, it was as if the earth had shifted on its axis, and for once he truly felt home. He had felt an instant sense of being welcome with open arms and no questions when he first looked into those infinite universe eyes.
Connections, he guessed, were hard to come by, especially when they were unbridled and real. Out of all the people he knew, he could only really narrow it down to about three friends who were just that, friends. Who accepted the quirks of his personality and he didn’t ever have to fear expressing himself around them. And yet, he always felt that the more artistic side of his character wouldn’t go down too well. Though Dominic was young, his mother had already instilled into him that he should never be afraid to show people the real him. His friends knew that he painted, but they didn’t know to what extent nor did they know how well. They had just never asked.
When Dominic had walked into Mrs. Bellamy’s house, and those the first tinkling piano notes overtook his mind, he had no idea what’d be on the other side of the door. Literally and figuratively. He wasn’t sure if he should expect a sniveling boy who refused acknowledgment of anyone who was lesser than him, and he definitely wasn’t sure he’d find someone who, in an instantaneous moment, seemed so much like him.
He wasn’t lying when he mused over the idea of continuing a friendship with Matthew. Of course, he realized, Matthew would have to return the same inklings of reciprocation, but there was something in that ghost smile hovering over Matthew’s lips when he sent him that one last grin as he stepped into the car that told him he wouldn’t ever have to worry.
Dominic would be a fool to deny that the overwhelming intensity of wanting to be this Matthew’s friend, in all its innocent glory, didn’t frighten him.
There was just something he didn’t understand – didn’t understand or didn’t want to, he wasn’t sure – about Matthew. He was a walking contradiction, the more Dominic thought about it. From his outer personality down to his physical looks, everything about Matthew seemed to catch Dominic off guard.
In physicality, Matthew was thin, almost sickly so. And yet he radiated this aura of confidence and self-acceptance that Dominic had yearned to achieve. He looked so frail, yet the brief handshake between the two was surprisingly strong. Even his black hair strongly contrasted against his porcelain white skin.
When Dominic saw him, he assumed that he would be frighteningly bright, yet socially dim. The few moments of their encounter proved otherwise in a grandiosity that was unnerving. He’d chatted with Dominic as if they were good friends. Granted, there were a couple moments where Dominic bumbled about, but Matthew looked over those like he was used to it.
What further proved his ideal on meeting Matthew being a purposeful coincidence, were the curious glances his mother would throw his way when she’d catch him in an unusually positive mood. She’d asked him why he suddenly seemed to actually like Teignmouth, and when he replied with his usual “I don’t know, Mum,” she looked away with a cognizant look.
A sudden loud crack startled him, interrupting his thoughts, and he turned his head quickly in time to see a large branch break off of a tree from the weight of piled snow. He stared at the billowing cloud of snowy dust and willed his heart to stop beating so quickly. He laughed at himself then, at how easy it was to scare him.
Looking forward again, he saw he’d closed the distance between himself and the shore considerably. Humming, he scanned the horizon and noticed a lone figure sitting on a bench about twenty meters away, but paid it no mind.
He continued to trudge onward, not quite understanding his perseverance to reach the shore. He concentrated on the vast distance of calm grey water spread out in front of him. A large bird swiftly flew down from its perch on a tree limb and dove towards the water, darting down for a split-second and coming back up with a tiny fish.
The sun was once again hidden behind the expanse of clouds and he shivered, pulling his coat tighter around him and rubbing his bare hands up and down his forearms, wishing he’d brought gloves as well.
He heard a low, soft cough and looked away from the skyline, noticing the small and hunched over figure was gradually growing closer. He watched as the person rocked slightly back and forth, visibly shaking. Their hood fell back and a head of short, black hair stood out against the white-grey sky.
Dominic slowed his pace when he stepped on a twig, the person jumping at the sound of someone near, and Dominic felt an unusual warmth spread throughout his body, his face splitting into a grin, when he found the it was Matthew sitting at the bench, alone.
Matthew’s head spun towards him, blue eyes wide and alarmingly fearful, his gaze slamming into Dominic’s, and Dominic was unthinkingly worried when he saw they were rimmed with red. Matthew’s mouth was set in a small pout, his full bottom lip trembling. Grey eyes traced over the trails of dried tears that ran over Matthew’s high and sharp cheekbones.
Matthew’s face blanched when he realized it was Dominic that stood a few steps away from him, what color that was there completely drained.
He turned his face away abruptly, hands shaking as they fidgeted with a thin black scarf that was wrapped around his slender neck. He stood up, keeping his head down, and mumbled a quiet and hoarse “Hello.” Reaching up with both hands, he rubbed his eyes and tried to steady his breaths.
Dominic watched him, anxious at the sight of Matthew looking so distraught. “M-Matt…? Are you…are you okay, mate?” He wrung his hands when Matthew froze at the sound of his voice and he took two steps closer.
“I’m fine.” He answered, clearing his throat. He looked towards the now setting sun, a determined countenance settling on his face as he narrowed his eyes. “Actually, no. I’m not. I’m tired. I’m so tired of everything that I have to go home to.” He squared his shoulders, his posture becoming defensive, his eyes flashing. He whipped his head towards Dominic. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to have to live with parents who don’t give a right damn about you? To have to wake up in the morning and try to greet a mother who wishes you’d never been born, and doesn’t even want to be alive? To have a father who excludes you from everything and instead chooses to spend every minute of his time away from work with his favorite son?” He was starting to cry, his chest heaving angrily. “It’s absolute shite. I hate it! I haven’t done anything…” He threw his hands up in the air and tugged at his hair, turning around and walking a few feet.
Dominic stared, half shocked and half nervous, as Matthew paced for a moment before falling onto the bench and sitting with his face in his hands, sobbing.
Unconsciously, Dominic walked slowly towards Matthew, not realizing what he was doing till he was standing next to Matthew and gradually lowering himself to the bench. He reached out, unsure, and gently placed his hand on Matthew’s left shoulder. Matthew jumped a little and shrunk away, but Dominic determinately moved closer, and Matthew stared, wide-eyed, as he was wrapped in an embrace.
“W-what are you doing?” Matthew stuttered out, doubtful, but finding himself huddling closer to the unexpected warmth.
Dominic attempted a shrug, answering honestly. “I don’t know.”
His answer seemed to placate Matthew, and he allowed himself to be held, this type of physical action foreign to him. Dominic tucked Matthew’s small head under his chin, closing his eyes and starting to rock back and forth, humming.
“I don’t know you.”
“I know. I don’t know you either.”
“Okay.” Matthew sighed, burrowing his head into Dominic’s neck. “I feel like I should trust you.”
“You probably should. You’re in a vulnerable position right now.”
Matthew giggled. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I know, just trying to make you laugh. I did well.” Grinning, he tightened his arms around Matthew and leaned against the back of the bench.
“Where do you live?”
“Creepy.” Matthew giggled again, his laughter muffled. “In London. I was born there. What about you?”
“Was born in Cambridge. Dunno why we moved to Teignmouth. To be closer to my gran, probably.”
“What do you…do here?”
Matthew snorted. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing but piss about. What’s your favorite thing to do?”
“I love painting. And drawing. I’ve been painting a lot the last couple of days.”
“What do you paint?” Dominic glanced down to find curious blue staring up at him, a smile on Matthew’s lips.
“Weird stuff.”
Matthew laughed. “How is it weird?”
“Dunno. It’s abstract. I don’t think a lot of people really like it. It looks like you just took a can of paint and splattered it on the canvas. But that’s the thing. It’s not just that. There’s a technique to it. It’s called ‘art’ for a reason. Because it is art. In the most basic form. It’s…it’s a lifestyle, a way of living and breathing and expressing yourself.” He loosened his hold on Matthew and leaned back some, unbuttoning his coat and wrapped it around Matthew’s slightly shaking body and smiled in appreciation, Dominic happy that his oversized coat finally came to good use.
“You sound like you know a lot about art.”
“I…guess. I read a lot. Sometimes when there’s nothing to do and my friends are busy so I’ll just sit and read.”
“Who’s your favorite artist?”
“I have too many. My mum showed me a few paintings by Jackson Pollock. He’s really cool. I think my favorite by him is Autumn Rhythm.”
Dominic felt Matthew smile. “You must really like autumn. I can’t blame you, it’s awesome.”
“What about you? Why’d you start up piano?” Matthew tensed slightly before relaxing again.
“I really don’t know. I visited my gran’s one day and saw her piano and I thought it looked real pretty, so I asked her about it and she said she’d teach me if I’d like. I said yes, and it just came really natural.”
“You’re really good. That song you were playing when I met you, I liked it.”
“Thanks.” Dominic could feel the heat from Matthew’s blush, but ignored it.
They went quiet, simply listening to everything and nothing.
After awhile, Dominic heard a distant shout which sounded vaguely like his mother’s voice. He shook his head a bit and looked down, unconsciously smiling when he saw Matthew asleep.
He nudged him, the movement startling Matthew and causing him to jump a little, nearly tipping them both over.
“Sorry ‘bout falling asleep. I didn’t get much last night.” He apologized, yawning.
“It’s alright, didn’t mind. My mum is calling for me.” Matthew’s face fell, but Dominic saw before he was able to hide his disappointment. “What are you going to do?”
“I dunno.”
“You should come have dinner with us.”
Eyes wide, he watched him for any signs of joke. “Uh…”
“We’re having pasta; my nana makes the best kind. You could invite you gran if you wanted, too.”
Matthew’s face brightened at the mention of pasta, and he sat up a bit. “I’d like that.”
Author:
sunshine_173 Rating: PG
Pairing: BellDom/Original character(s)
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: Is completely welcome. It makes me all sorts of happy. Feel free to critique, but be nice, yeah ^^
Disclaimer: I don't own Muse, Matt or Dom. If I did, unspeakable acts would be committed.
Warning: Nothing really going on here.
Note: EPIC love and thank you's and just plain smothering to
lalalive23 and flavoroftea for being awesome bit readers and betas and cheerleaders and just fucking AMAZING. I luff you both. If it wasn't for y'all, this wouldn't exist. THANK YOU to everyone who's been commenting ♥♥Prologue Chapter 1
23 December, 1992
“Deep in your eyes, a pale kind of jewel, open and closed within your eyes. I’ll place the sky within your eyes.” Dominic sung quietly to himself as he held back the tip of his paintbrush and let it go, flinging paint in a diagonal line across the canvas. He repeated this method several times until there was a sizable amount of yellow-gold in the center. “I’ll paint you mornings of gold, I’ll spin you valentine evenings. Though we’re strangers till now, we’re choosing the path between the stars.” Reaching his hand into a small glass beside him, he wet his fingers and flicked water onto the canvas, smiling softly as swirly looking rivulets ran down, leaving colors blended in their wake. “Falling, falling, as the world falls down.”
He jumped slightly when he felt a hand upon his shoulder, and turned his head to see his mother staring with smiling eyes at his newest work-in-progress. “Beautiful as always, Dom.” She leaned down and pressed a kiss to his hair. “Tell me though, why do you keep painting with blue?” She gestured to the various shades of the background, ranging from the palest cornflower blue to a dark azure, gold splatters and random streaks still running slowly down making it seem like some sort of abstract sun setting over the ocean.
Dominic blushed, looking around at several canvases leaning against the walls of his grandmother’s spare bedroom, all of them orientating around blue. “I don’t know. It’s just been on my mind a lot,” he answered honestly, reaching up to scratch the top of his head.
“Well, it looks lovely, darling. What more are you going to do with it?”
“Nothing really. I’m happy with this.” He glanced out the window. “I think I might go for a walk.” He pushed his seat back, cringing when the legs of the chair scratched against the floor. He dropped his paintbrush in the glass he used earlier, raising his arms and stretching.
“Alright. Be careful. Please wear your heavier coat this time, Dominic.”
Sighing, faux-exasperated, he rolled his eyes. “It’s so…heavy, though.”
“Honey, that’s the point. No coat, no walk.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll wear it.” Grinning, he hugged her from the side. “Love you, Mum.”
“Love you too. Now hurry before you wake up Nana. She’d have my head if she knew I was letting you walk outside while snow was on the ground.”
He giggled and turned, searching for his coat and hat.
Stepping outside, he exhaled slowly and watched his breath disappear in the air. He looked around, the street covered in snow, invisible ice lining the pavement, the sky dark and cloudy. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he ducked his head down and started walking quickly, aimlessly, assuming the direction of the shore. Whistling, he kicked a pile of snow, sending the timeless and pristine white flying with the light breeze, hitting the ground a few feet away.
The wind howled a low, mournful echo, causing the trees around him to sway, branches creaking. A bird alighted on the ground next to him, a sweet sing-song melody coming forth from its small beak, the sound traversing through the air and giving the atmosphere a more positive feeling. Dominic smiled at it, closing his eyes and raising his face to the sky, repressed rays of sunlight softly falling over his cheekbones and reflecting off his hair, golden light seeming to halo around his head. He walked blindly for a moment till he stopped and stood still when a small break in the clouds appeared, the sun coming out in full and warming him.
He reached up, pulling off his hat and stuffing it in his coat’s pocket. He ran his hand through his longish hair, ruffling it and sweeping aside his fringe. The wind died down but the chill remained, and soon he was wish he’d brought his scarf.
Dominic opened his eyes finally, blinking several times before starting off again at an average pace. He started to hum a tuneless song, a small, subconscious smile on his face.
If he was being honest with himself, he had no real idea why he’d been in such good spirits the last few days. He figured it was the upcoming promise of gifts, but whenever he’d catch himself grinning for no reason or singing some random song, his mind would automatically think of his brief meeting with Matthew Bellamy.
Dominic didn’t quite understand why he had this sudden affinity with the small, pale, ebony haired boy. He had friends at home, plenty, but he’d always felt, though maybe not fully realized, that something was missing. When he met Matthew, it was as if the earth had shifted on its axis, and for once he truly felt home. He had felt an instant sense of being welcome with open arms and no questions when he first looked into those infinite universe eyes.
Connections, he guessed, were hard to come by, especially when they were unbridled and real. Out of all the people he knew, he could only really narrow it down to about three friends who were just that, friends. Who accepted the quirks of his personality and he didn’t ever have to fear expressing himself around them. And yet, he always felt that the more artistic side of his character wouldn’t go down too well. Though Dominic was young, his mother had already instilled into him that he should never be afraid to show people the real him. His friends knew that he painted, but they didn’t know to what extent nor did they know how well. They had just never asked.
When Dominic had walked into Mrs. Bellamy’s house, and those the first tinkling piano notes overtook his mind, he had no idea what’d be on the other side of the door. Literally and figuratively. He wasn’t sure if he should expect a sniveling boy who refused acknowledgment of anyone who was lesser than him, and he definitely wasn’t sure he’d find someone who, in an instantaneous moment, seemed so much like him.
He wasn’t lying when he mused over the idea of continuing a friendship with Matthew. Of course, he realized, Matthew would have to return the same inklings of reciprocation, but there was something in that ghost smile hovering over Matthew’s lips when he sent him that one last grin as he stepped into the car that told him he wouldn’t ever have to worry.
Dominic would be a fool to deny that the overwhelming intensity of wanting to be this Matthew’s friend, in all its innocent glory, didn’t frighten him.
There was just something he didn’t understand – didn’t understand or didn’t want to, he wasn’t sure – about Matthew. He was a walking contradiction, the more Dominic thought about it. From his outer personality down to his physical looks, everything about Matthew seemed to catch Dominic off guard.
In physicality, Matthew was thin, almost sickly so. And yet he radiated this aura of confidence and self-acceptance that Dominic had yearned to achieve. He looked so frail, yet the brief handshake between the two was surprisingly strong. Even his black hair strongly contrasted against his porcelain white skin.
When Dominic saw him, he assumed that he would be frighteningly bright, yet socially dim. The few moments of their encounter proved otherwise in a grandiosity that was unnerving. He’d chatted with Dominic as if they were good friends. Granted, there were a couple moments where Dominic bumbled about, but Matthew looked over those like he was used to it.
What further proved his ideal on meeting Matthew being a purposeful coincidence, were the curious glances his mother would throw his way when she’d catch him in an unusually positive mood. She’d asked him why he suddenly seemed to actually like Teignmouth, and when he replied with his usual “I don’t know, Mum,” she looked away with a cognizant look.
A sudden loud crack startled him, interrupting his thoughts, and he turned his head quickly in time to see a large branch break off of a tree from the weight of piled snow. He stared at the billowing cloud of snowy dust and willed his heart to stop beating so quickly. He laughed at himself then, at how easy it was to scare him.
Looking forward again, he saw he’d closed the distance between himself and the shore considerably. Humming, he scanned the horizon and noticed a lone figure sitting on a bench about twenty meters away, but paid it no mind.
He continued to trudge onward, not quite understanding his perseverance to reach the shore. He concentrated on the vast distance of calm grey water spread out in front of him. A large bird swiftly flew down from its perch on a tree limb and dove towards the water, darting down for a split-second and coming back up with a tiny fish.
The sun was once again hidden behind the expanse of clouds and he shivered, pulling his coat tighter around him and rubbing his bare hands up and down his forearms, wishing he’d brought gloves as well.
He heard a low, soft cough and looked away from the skyline, noticing the small and hunched over figure was gradually growing closer. He watched as the person rocked slightly back and forth, visibly shaking. Their hood fell back and a head of short, black hair stood out against the white-grey sky.
Dominic slowed his pace when he stepped on a twig, the person jumping at the sound of someone near, and Dominic felt an unusual warmth spread throughout his body, his face splitting into a grin, when he found the it was Matthew sitting at the bench, alone.
Matthew’s head spun towards him, blue eyes wide and alarmingly fearful, his gaze slamming into Dominic’s, and Dominic was unthinkingly worried when he saw they were rimmed with red. Matthew’s mouth was set in a small pout, his full bottom lip trembling. Grey eyes traced over the trails of dried tears that ran over Matthew’s high and sharp cheekbones.
Matthew’s face blanched when he realized it was Dominic that stood a few steps away from him, what color that was there completely drained.
He turned his face away abruptly, hands shaking as they fidgeted with a thin black scarf that was wrapped around his slender neck. He stood up, keeping his head down, and mumbled a quiet and hoarse “Hello.” Reaching up with both hands, he rubbed his eyes and tried to steady his breaths.
Dominic watched him, anxious at the sight of Matthew looking so distraught. “M-Matt…? Are you…are you okay, mate?” He wrung his hands when Matthew froze at the sound of his voice and he took two steps closer.
“I’m fine.” He answered, clearing his throat. He looked towards the now setting sun, a determined countenance settling on his face as he narrowed his eyes. “Actually, no. I’m not. I’m tired. I’m so tired of everything that I have to go home to.” He squared his shoulders, his posture becoming defensive, his eyes flashing. He whipped his head towards Dominic. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to have to live with parents who don’t give a right damn about you? To have to wake up in the morning and try to greet a mother who wishes you’d never been born, and doesn’t even want to be alive? To have a father who excludes you from everything and instead chooses to spend every minute of his time away from work with his favorite son?” He was starting to cry, his chest heaving angrily. “It’s absolute shite. I hate it! I haven’t done anything…” He threw his hands up in the air and tugged at his hair, turning around and walking a few feet.
Dominic stared, half shocked and half nervous, as Matthew paced for a moment before falling onto the bench and sitting with his face in his hands, sobbing.
Unconsciously, Dominic walked slowly towards Matthew, not realizing what he was doing till he was standing next to Matthew and gradually lowering himself to the bench. He reached out, unsure, and gently placed his hand on Matthew’s left shoulder. Matthew jumped a little and shrunk away, but Dominic determinately moved closer, and Matthew stared, wide-eyed, as he was wrapped in an embrace.
“W-what are you doing?” Matthew stuttered out, doubtful, but finding himself huddling closer to the unexpected warmth.
Dominic attempted a shrug, answering honestly. “I don’t know.”
His answer seemed to placate Matthew, and he allowed himself to be held, this type of physical action foreign to him. Dominic tucked Matthew’s small head under his chin, closing his eyes and starting to rock back and forth, humming.
“I don’t know you.”
“I know. I don’t know you either.”
“Okay.” Matthew sighed, burrowing his head into Dominic’s neck. “I feel like I should trust you.”
“You probably should. You’re in a vulnerable position right now.”
Matthew giggled. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I know, just trying to make you laugh. I did well.” Grinning, he tightened his arms around Matthew and leaned against the back of the bench.
“Where do you live?”
“Creepy.” Matthew giggled again, his laughter muffled. “In London. I was born there. What about you?”
“Was born in Cambridge. Dunno why we moved to Teignmouth. To be closer to my gran, probably.”
“What do you…do here?”
Matthew snorted. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing but piss about. What’s your favorite thing to do?”
“I love painting. And drawing. I’ve been painting a lot the last couple of days.”
“What do you paint?” Dominic glanced down to find curious blue staring up at him, a smile on Matthew’s lips.
“Weird stuff.”
Matthew laughed. “How is it weird?”
“Dunno. It’s abstract. I don’t think a lot of people really like it. It looks like you just took a can of paint and splattered it on the canvas. But that’s the thing. It’s not just that. There’s a technique to it. It’s called ‘art’ for a reason. Because it is art. In the most basic form. It’s…it’s a lifestyle, a way of living and breathing and expressing yourself.” He loosened his hold on Matthew and leaned back some, unbuttoning his coat and wrapped it around Matthew’s slightly shaking body and smiled in appreciation, Dominic happy that his oversized coat finally came to good use.
“You sound like you know a lot about art.”
“I…guess. I read a lot. Sometimes when there’s nothing to do and my friends are busy so I’ll just sit and read.”
“Who’s your favorite artist?”
“I have too many. My mum showed me a few paintings by Jackson Pollock. He’s really cool. I think my favorite by him is Autumn Rhythm.”
Dominic felt Matthew smile. “You must really like autumn. I can’t blame you, it’s awesome.”
“What about you? Why’d you start up piano?” Matthew tensed slightly before relaxing again.
“I really don’t know. I visited my gran’s one day and saw her piano and I thought it looked real pretty, so I asked her about it and she said she’d teach me if I’d like. I said yes, and it just came really natural.”
“You’re really good. That song you were playing when I met you, I liked it.”
“Thanks.” Dominic could feel the heat from Matthew’s blush, but ignored it.
They went quiet, simply listening to everything and nothing.
After awhile, Dominic heard a distant shout which sounded vaguely like his mother’s voice. He shook his head a bit and looked down, unconsciously smiling when he saw Matthew asleep.
He nudged him, the movement startling Matthew and causing him to jump a little, nearly tipping them both over.
“Sorry ‘bout falling asleep. I didn’t get much last night.” He apologized, yawning.
“It’s alright, didn’t mind. My mum is calling for me.” Matthew’s face fell, but Dominic saw before he was able to hide his disappointment. “What are you going to do?”
“I dunno.”
“You should come have dinner with us.”
Eyes wide, he watched him for any signs of joke. “Uh…”
“We’re having pasta; my nana makes the best kind. You could invite you gran if you wanted, too.”
Matthew’s face brightened at the mention of pasta, and he sat up a bit. “I’d like that.”
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Date: 2010-10-30 03:13 am (UTC)Love your delicate descriptions, and the atmospheres, they´re subtle and fine and pretty, gorgeous work.
Your Dom and Matt are exquisite little things, and this chapter was beyond beautiful. The entire bench part, with Dom holding Matt and stuff, the dialogue and the affinity between them, aww...WONDERFUL.
Need more soon.
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Date: 2010-10-31 03:35 pm (UTC)