sunshine_173 | Infinity: Chapter 3

Title: Infinity
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: 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: Nothing really going on here.
Note: I will never be able to thank

lalalive23 enough for her awesomeness. I send you a bombardment of sexy men. And everyone who comments, I love you with the intensity of a thousand exploding stars. yeah.

24 December, 1992

Red and yellow danced in darkness behind fluttering eyelids, the sunlight of a new day shining brightly through the window and warming the skin of Dominic’s face. Squinting his eyes, he dipped his head down to escape the unwelcome light. Softness brushed against his face and his nose twitched like a rabbit, scrunching up as he raised his arms above his head and arched his back. The headboard creaked as he pressed his palms flat against the old wood and pushed against it, the sheet raising up with his arms and creating a cocoon of warmth. His chest bumped against a small pillow and he wrapped his arms tightly around the warmth, furrowing his eyebrows sleepily when the pillow didn’t yield. It instead jumped, pushing away slightly, only to go lax a second later and curl against his side.

Dominic’s eyes shot open, staring at the wall and watching dust float in a single ray of light. He looked down without moving his head, straining to see what he still held. A shock of black, messy hair greeted him, a small head burrowed against his side, Matthew’s nose was pressed against his ribcage, quiet snores drifting out of an open mouth. Dominic stared, wide-eyed, as long and thin fingers balled into a tiny fist, gripping the loose material of Dominic’s shirt tightly, bony knees curled up and pushing almost uncomfortably into his hip. He was confused, to say the least, as to why Matthew was in his bed and snuggled up against him, sleeping soundly and completely oblivious to Dominic’s increasing panic.

All at once, memories breached his wall of drowsiness and flooded his mind. He remembered walking down the street in the frigid air, catching sight of Matthew and becoming curiously and suddenly worried at the sight of the boy’s red-rimmed eyes and blotchy cheeks. He remembered the all-consuming want to comfort him, to take away his troubles, to make him laugh. Dominic wasn’t one for outward displays of affection, feeling too awkward at the thought of hugging anyone but a close family member. But he had hugged Matthew. Held him, in fact, for an extended period of time. And he was holding him again, the diminutive boy with the ivory complexion and radiantly blue eyes. He remembered running home in the rain, holding Matthew’s hand which was practically enveloped by Dominic’s. Falling onto the water-soaked grass and laughing harder than he had in a longer span of time than he’d like to admit. Smiling at his Queen shirt that looked massive hanging loosely off Matthew’s sharp shoulders. Quietly eating dinner and laughing to himself at the variety of expressions that would pass over the ebony-haired boy’s face, and later sitting on the hard-wood floor of the guest bedroom playing 20 Questions.

If he was being honest with himself, which he usually tried to be, he never really felt awkward or uncomfortable around Matthew. There was a disarming aura that surrounded the boy and calmed Dominic, made him feel a sense of understanding. He was nervous for a split-second when Matthew saw his paintings, but in retrospect, he realized it was not because he was afraid that he’d think they were silly, but because he was afraid of Matthew’s opinion of him. He didn’t necessarily understand why he was relieved, in a manner of speaking, when Matthew turned towards him, all blue eyes and awe, and spoke of the beauty Dominic had painted. Matthew had a quality about him, almost complete fragility, which caught Dominic off guard and made him second guess himself and their brief friendship.

A quiet cough snapped Dominic out of his musing, his eyes refocusing. Matthew sniffed, his face wrinkling up as he yawned widely and rolled onto his stomach, the loss of warmth causing Dominic to shiver slightly. Dominic’s left arm was trapped under the weight of Matthew, the pianist stretching in a very kitten-like manner while he smacked his lips together, yawning again. Dominic stared at him silently, Matthew blindly sitting up on his knees and rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, running them through his hair and mussing it up even more. His eyes fluttered open, pale blue squinting and adjusting to the brightness of the light. He looked around disorientated, scratching his jaw, and raised his hands above his head and stretched once more, Dominic’s shirt rising but still so long that it barely passed his hips. Knuckles popped and fully stretched, Matthew once more looked around, emitting a small grunt of confusion until his eyes widened comically and his head snapped automatically towards Dominic, as if he knew his position the entire time.

“Oh.” Came Matthew’s soft voice, faintly rough and unused. He cleared his throat, shaking the hair that’d fallen into his face out of the way. “Hi. Morning.” A shudder passed over him and he crossed his arms over his chest, hugging himself.

Dominic was once again struck by how petite the boy next to him was. Even for his age, it seemed he was more slender than most. His features were sharp, defined, with a hard jaw and high cheekbones, deep-set and striking eyes. His nose was biggish, and his lips were thin, but they fit him.

Matthew raised his eyebrows when Dominic didn’t reply, giggling nervously. “Uhm, you okay?” He slowly waved a hand in front of Dominic’s face, the blonde shaking his head at the motion and moving to sit up.

“G’morning. Sorry ‘bout that, zoned out for a moment.” He frowned at his lap before yawning widely, putting a hand over his mouth. He blinked his eyes a few times and focused on Matthew, who was balancing on the balls of his socked feet, rocking back and forth and gently bouncing on the mattress.

Matthew laughed a quiet, high-pitched giggle. “I saw.” He suddenly fell backwards onto his bum, springing off of the bed and landing on his feet, scrambling to the window a few feet away. He grabbed the edge of the window sill with both hands and pushed himself up on his toes, staring outside with an amazed look. “Oh, wow!” He exclaimed, looking over his shoulder and giggling when he saw Dominic’s eyes widen at the volume. “I haven’t seen it snow this much in forever. It looks like a right day for Christmas Eve, yeah?” His enthusiasm made Dominic smile, and he found himself sliding out of bed, shivering, and glancing out the window over Matthew’s head.

Dominic’s eyes widened, taking in the height of the snow and how there was just so much of it. Everything, literally everything, was covered in glistening white. The sky was grey except for a break in the clouds where the sun proudly shone through, causing the ice and snow to sparkle iridescently. The ground had a glow about it, the blinding white of the flawless and untouched everything seeming otherworldly. A small, black car came rolling slowly down the street, Dominic recognizing his mother in the driver’s seat, and he watched her park in the driveway, holding onto the car as if for dear life as she grabbed a couple bags from the backseat.

He glanced sideways at Matthew, finding his head propped up in an upturned palm, his elbow on the sill. He was simply staring out the window, seemingly unfazed by Dominic’s mum walking up to the front door and smiling when she caught sight of the two boys. She sent a small wave in their direction, Dominic grinning back, but Matthew didn’t notice the interaction, too busy gazing unseeingly at the distant horizon.

A few quiet moments passed until there was a quiet knock at the door, Mrs. Howard opening it a sliver after a beat and poking her head in. “Good morning, boys.” The sound of her voice snapped Matthew out of his reverie, and he spun around quickly, smiling and fluttering his fingers in a kind of wave.

“Morning, Mrs. Howard. Thank you again for dinner last night and letting me stay.”

“Ah, anytime, love. What would you two like for breakfast? I stopped by the grocers and grabbed some eggs and milk.” She leaned against the doorway and smiled at her stretching son.

“Er, I don’t really mind.” Dominic said, reaching for a blanket draped over the back of a chair and wrapping it around his shoulders. He glanced at Matthew and quirked his head.

“Oh. Uhm. I don’t either.” Matthew’s eyes were wide, his countenance nervous.

Mrs. Howard sighed good-naturedly, muttering to herself. “I’ll put some tea on and you can decide when you’re ready?”

They both nodded simultaneously.

“Gran and I will be last minute shopping in a bit; would you two like to come? We can pick up your grandmother on the way, if you’d like, Matthew.”

The boy smiled shyly. “I’d like that, if you didn’t mind.”

“Of course not! Why don’t you both get dressed and come out for breakfast. Your clothes from yesterday are washed and dried, Matthew, if you’d like to wear them. Or you can change when we pick up your grandmother?”

“I’ll wear what I did yesterday.”

“Okay! I’ll be right back with them. Dominic, honey, put some socks on.” She nodded sternly at her son, but her eyes were soft and she smiled as she shut the door.

“Your mum is nice.” Matthew’s voice was quiet, restrained. He rubbed his big toe against his ankle and scratched the back of his head.

“Yeah…” Dominic glanced back outside and noticed with a subconscious frown that the sun was hidden.

“So-”

“Wel-”

They both laughed, Matthew hugging himself.

“Food?” Dominic tried again, smiling at Matthew’s smile.

“Yeah.”

“’Kay. Cool.” Dominic gestured for Matthew to go ahead of him, the younger boy shuffling to the door.

Dominic followed him down the hallway and into the kitchen, the blonde walking towards the pantry and peeking inside. “We have Cheerios?” He glanced over his shoulder to see Matthew perched on the edge of a chair, tapping his feet rhythmically against the wood floor.

Matthew’s head snapped up, a ghost smile on his lips, and nodded. “Sounds lovely.” He jumped up and walked the small distance to Dominic. “Er, where are the bowls?”

“Top cabinet to the right of the sink.” Dominic pointed blindly while he reached for the cereal box on the top shelf, shutting the pantry door and setting it on the counter.

Matthew went for the cabinet but found he wasn’t able to reach it, let alone pull out two bowls. “Um. Dom?”
“Mhm?” Dominic was busy placing dirty plates in the dishwasher.

“Dom.” Matthew’s voice started to take a whining quality to it.

“…Matt.” Dominic looked to the side where Matthew would be, and immediately began laughing at the image of the small boy straining to reach the cabinet door inches from the tips of his fingers.

Matthew flushed, his ears red, and jumped slightly, fingers barely brushing against the silver handle. “Don’t laugh at me.” He smiled embarrassedly, his hand falling and he sighed, leaning against the countertop.

Dominic’s giggles died down, moving over to Matthew and easily opening the cabinet, reaching in and grabbing two small, white bowls, grinning the whole time. Dominic’s mum walked passed the kitchen, mentioning briefly to Matthew that she’d laid his clothes out on the bed and they’d be leaving in a half hour. Dominic smiled to himself while he poured milk into each bowl, retrieving spoons and carrying them to the table where Matthew sat. He’d never had a friend over that had stayed for breakfast, usually leaving when they woke. It was a nice change, he had to admit, and he was pleased that Matthew was so comfortable being around him and his family after only knowing him for such a short time. In truth, it felt as if he’d known Matthew his whole life and was simply catching up on lost time.

They ate in companionable silence, Dominic randomly asking Matthew about his piano playing towards the end of the meal. The blonde sat, enraptured, as the other boy spoke of playing techniques he’d never heard of, mentioning classical pieces and various composers as if it were everyday talk. Matthew’s hands fluttered about, creating visual dynamics that juxtaposed with his words, Dominic watching him and hanging onto every word with complete fascination.

Half-way through describing a new piece by a man named Liszt that he’d heard just the other day, Dominic’s mother shouted out to them from the back of the house to get dressed. Dominic went to collect Matthew’s bowl, but the raven haired boy backed away, smiling angelically. “You fixed breakfast, I’ll clean.”

“There’s a dishwasher though.” Dominic held his bowl tightly, curiously eyeing Matthew’s small smirk.

“I’m trying to help out. You’re not making it easy, Dom.” He giggled lightly, leaning against the island in the center of the kitchen.

“But…you’re a guest. You shouldn’t have to clean.”

“I don’t care, I feel bad not helping.”

“But…why?” Dominic’s absolutely confused expression caused Matthew to restrain himself from outright laughing.

“Because…I do. I dunno.”

“Bu-”

“Dom.” Matthew sighed, his smile resolute, and took a small step towards Dominic.

“But you-”

“Dom.” He interrupted again, taking another step. He reached out slowly to take hold of Dominic’s bowl. “Go get dressed.” He tugged slightly, Dominic letting go and watching the younger boy turn around and walk towards the sink, turning on the water and rinsing off the two bowls with an air that made it seem like he’d done this exact thing a million times before, completely oblivious to Dominic staring at the back of his head.

Dominic turned on his heel and walked calmly towards the guest bedroom, his mother stepping out of the bathroom and catching sight of Matthew silently putting the bowls and silverware in the dishwasher.

“Dominic, why is he cleaning?” She questioned, stopping her son before he closed the door to the room.

“He wanted to.”

His mother raised an elegant eyebrow. “He offered to without you hinting?”

“Yep.”

A flash of disbelief crossed her face, followed by surprise and then a pleased smile. “He’s a good boy.” She turned away and as Dominic shut the door, heard her thank Matthew.

Dominic went for his suitcase, kneeling in front of it and poking around, looking for something to wear. He grabbed a white sweater and jeans, pulling them on and not worrying about his hair. It’d only get messed up in the wind. He was in the middle of tying the laces for his black high-top converse, the taste of his minty toothpaste still on his tongue, when four, quiet and rapid knocks broke the silence surrounding him.

“Come in!” Dominic shouted, though he had no real need to. The door was only a few feet away and he was sure they’d hear him even if he was whispering. He stood up, grabbing his scarf and wrapping it around his neck several times as the door opened a crack.

“Dom?”

The blonde looked over his shoulder to see Matthew’s head peeking in, eyes wide and questioning.

“You…can come in.” He smiled at him, picking up his coat and pulling it on, searching around for his beanie.

“Oh. Right. Er, your mum said to hurry.” Matthew slipped through the door, fully dressed, and shoved his hands in the pockets of his thin jumper.

“Do you want to borrow my other coat? I have a spare one. You’re going to freeze going out in just that.”

“Sure.” He leaned against the door, Dominic picking up a smallish black, leather coat that was hanging over the back of the chair and handing it to him. “Thanks.” He pulled it on over his jumper, zipping it up to his neck and placing his hands in the pockets. He looked, blushing when he saw that Dominic had been watching him. “So uh, are you ready?”

“Yeah.” The blonde walked towards him, opening the door fully and gesturing for Matthew to exit the room first.

They walked down the hallway together, quietly, waiting in the foyer for Dom’s gran and mum. They chatted, Matthew peppering Dominic with question about his life back in London, until they were both seated in the back of the car and heading to Matthew’s gran’s home.

----

Their shopping expedition had been cut short when they caught wind of the news that another blizzard was on its way to the small town. They’d managed to stop by a few stores, Mrs. Bellamy and Dominic’s gran chatting on their own most of the time while Mrs. Howard went about her own business, buying last minute gifts for her son and husband, leaving the two boys to their own devices. It’d been too cold outside to walk around, so they had both decided to stay in a small, on-the-corner bookshop till the older women were all finished.

Around noon, they stopped by a quiet bakery for lunch, showing each other what they’d bought. Matthew and Dominic had spent the entire time, lunch included, bombarding each other with questions about life back at home, in both London and Teignmouth. They compared their school life, despite their age difference, and the friends they had. Dominic found out the extent of Matthew’s intellect, the younger boy spouting off a variety of trivia and random facts that corresponded with the conversation’s subject matter at the time. The level of the pianist’s brilliance stunned Dominic, his head seeming so full with information both useless and unnecessary he was surprised his brain hadn’t exploded yet. It seemed like the main focal point for Matthew’s interest circled around not only music, but literature, science, and especially astronomy. He was able to name a good sum of constellations, some that Dominic had never heard of, and Dominic learned that Matthew’s favorite star was Rigel. Why? When he was younger, his mother, an astronomy buff and the reason he’d even become interested in the subject, had compared his eyes to the star’s brightness and hue constantly. He had told that to Dominic in a whisper, his expression unreadable, and immediately changed to subject.

Through Dominic’s own observations, he found that Matthew was exceedingly fidgety, never truly still. Either his foot was bobbing up and down or his fingers would tap endlessly on his thigh, he was continuously moving. He had a habit of rubbing his middle and pointer fingers against his thumb in a circular motion when he was deep in thought or nervous, and he’d also tap each of his fingers once against his thumb over and over again. Dominic had been around him enough to know how distinct his laugh was, how it started out low but rose to a high-pitched and loud giggle the harder he laughed, but he’d not noticed the little crinkles that’d appear at the corners of his eyes, and how it seemed they’d sparkle a myriad of blue shades. One of his front top teeth stuck out further than the others, but it fit him. Dominic couldn’t imagine him with perfect teeth, because from what he could tell, Matthew was far from perfect. But in his own way, these flaws complimented his character and made him something unique.

While they’d been at the bookshop, Dominic had been perusing through an aisle and he found a book on composers of all the classical periods of music. He’d hidden it from Matthew’s sight until his mother had arrived to pick them up, and didn’t have to ask for her to buy it; it’d been purchased and sacked by the time he had even opened his mouth.

By the time they arrived back at Matthew’s gran’s house, it was nearly three in the afternoon, large snowflakes just starting to fall. Dominic waved goodbye to Mrs. Bellamy, promising Matthew that they’d hang out again the next day, and he watched the ebony haired boy walk away arm-in-arm with his gran. During the short drive back to Dominic’s grandmother’s, Mrs. Howard peppered her son with questions about the boy, curious about Dominic’s new friend and already planning a visit back to Teignmouth during the summer.

Dominic now was in his room, laying on his stomach and thumbing through the book he’d bought as Matthew’s Christmas present. He was nervous, to say the least, that Matthew wouldn’t like it, but he had a feeling he would. He said he liked to read, and he liked classical music, and the book had a picture of a man called Berlioz on the front cover, so he figured Matthew would like it.

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but when he felt someone gently nudging his shoulder and calling his name, he jumped awake, the shape of the book imprinted on his cheek. Glancing outside, he saw that it was already dark, the window misted. He walked up to it, rubbing a circle on the cold windowpane with the sleeve of his sweater, and peeked outside to see furiously blowing snow falling practically horizontal, the sky black.