sunshine_173 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sunshine_173) wrote2011-01-21 01:12 am
sunshine_173) wrote2011-01-21 01:12 am
Entry tags:
- au,
- belldom,
- fic: infinity,
- muse,
- slash
Infinity: Chapter 5
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 shite ain't kosher.
Note: :D is my face right now. I've had some serious issues with this chapter. Like, I don't even KNOW why. I just had this massive writer's block and avoided writing this like the plague. Until I actually figured out what I was doing, of course. lol. wow. My life. I'm a bit loopy right now, jsyk, so this probably isn't making much sense. As usual, my darlinglalalive23 is well, a darling. I've given her a ton of grief the last 20 minutes just to be a little shit which induced some massive lolz on my behalf, so I owe her a ton. For like, dealing with my insecurity on some parts etc etc. And I'm shutting up now and letting you read. Bless my school for giving me two snow days to write like a crazy mofo.
A few seconds later
"Matt?" Dominic stuttered, a sudden burst of happiness racing through his veins. The wide grin that had broken across his face faltered when he heard a muffled whimper. Worry settled over him, the silence he received as an answer causing him to hurriedly press the STOP button on the microwave, turning around on his heel to head to the nearest seat. Sitting down on the hard wood of a chair, Dominic tried again. "Matt, are you okay? What's up?"
A loud crash followed by a choking sob hit Dominic's ears with the force of a battering ram.
Before Dominic had the chance to question again, a small voice spoke up. "I-I'm s-s-sorry I called, Do-om." A sniffle. "D-Didn't know," another echoing noise and Dominic could practically hear him jump, "who else t-to call."
Nervous, the blonde squirmed on the chair, crossing and uncrossing his legs while he listened to him. He’d never heard someone sound so sad, so genuinely distraught and almost, dare he think, scared.
“It’s okay, Matt. Are you okay? What’s happening?” Dominic suddenly wished that his mum was home. He was at a complete loss at what to say, and he knew without a doubt that she’d know exactly how to go about this situation, if there was one. Dominic couldn’t deny, though, the feeling of protectiveness that seemed to dominate all other emotions present at this moment. It caught him off guard, this desire to be at Matthew’s side and to make him laugh, make him happy, to bring that light to his eyes that he felt wasn’t lit nearly enough.
“I-I’m scared, Dom. My d-dad came home drunk. I’ve never s-seen him like this. My mum started yelling at him. Said she didn’t want him angry and around us. A-And they s-started–” A loud crash caused a sob to erupt over the phone, and Dominic found himself subconsciously sitting upright, his free hand gripping the edge of his seat while the other clutched tightly to the phone pressed against his face.
“Matthew, what is happening.” He had no question in his voice, and he began to nervously tap his fingers against the wood.
“I’m s-sorry D-Dom. I-I…my gran didn’t a-answer her ph-phone,” another sob wracked itself through Dominic’s eardrums, screaming down his veins and pumping his heart with rapid beats. “I-I didn’t mean to c-ca-all yo–”
“Matthew, don’t you dare hang up that phone!” Dominic shouted, his nervousness of what was happening at his friend’s house skyrocketing.
By now, Matthew was nearly unintelligible. “T-They s-started to fi-fight a-an…Just never s-seen him so mad and I d-dunno w-why…H-he started r-raising his voice real loud a-and my mum s-started th-thr–” The young boy broke off crying, silent and gasping. Dominic could practically see his friend curled into a ball, tucked away in the furthest corner of a dark room, muffling his cries with the heel of his palm.
Dominic sat, motionless, his mouth open and flapping like a fish while he tried to find the words to say. He’d definitely never been in this position before, yet he wanted more than anything to be there, with Matthew, holding him and soothing him, whispering that everything would be alright and that he was safe. That no one would ever make a tear fall from his eyes again unless it was one of pure and childish glee. Hand numb from holding the chair for so long and so tight, he let go, standing up and beginning to pace down the hallway.
Beams of moonlight washed over his features every time he passed by the foyer, highlighting the distress on his face, frown lines present on a face of one far too young to know anything of sadness or worry. He could only imagine what Matthew’s face looked like, blue eyes glimmering with pools of tears, his pale and gaunt cheeks streaked with wet lines, his nose pink and lips quivering as they opened to sob out his sorrow.
“Matt…” Dominic started lowly, stopping his incessant pacing and standing still, facing the wall of the front hallway. He leaned his forehead against it, his forearm pressed against the wall to the side of his head. With the weight of Matthew’s world upon his shoulders, he breathed out. “Matt, it’s okay, mate. Just breathe, okay? Listen to my voice and nothing else.” Exhaling slowly, Dominic tried to think of the most soothing thing to say to someone. “Pretend they aren’t fighting, yeah?”
Matthew’s sobs, which had softened infinitesimally, again rose up in both pitch and volume at the mention of his parent’s fight. Dominic leaned his head back only to thump it gently against the wall, calling himself an idiot under his breath.
“Okay, that wasn’t the right thing to say. Just…just pretend…pretend you’re at your piano. Yeah. You’re playing the piano. That makes you happy, doesn’t it?” Sighing heavily, Dominic questioned himself, unsure if even that was the correct thing to say. “Matt?”
A long beat of silence later, and Matthew’s crying gradually lessened to sniffles and the occasional hiccup. “Yes.” His voice was rough, soft, and so quiet that Dominic almost didn’t hear the reply.
“Good! I quite love the piano, too.” Biting his lip, he pushed off of the wall and fell back against the opposite one, his breath escaping his lungs with a huff.
“What are you doing, Dom?” The tone present in those syllables was unemotional. Blank.
“Um…I’m standing. Well, leaning. Against a wall. In my house. Er, hallway. W-Why?” He stuttered, his throat suddenly dry, worry rearing its head once again at the hollowness in Matthew’s voice.
“That’s not what I meant.” The sniffles were gone now, the silence in both houses punctuated by a random hiccup and Dominic’s shallow breathing. The blonde swore he could hear faint shouting over the line.
“I-I…”
“Why do you care?” Matthew asked flatly.
“Because you’re…my friend. And…I-I dunno. I guess… you just…had me worried. About your safety.” Dominic swallowed, confused about why it was so difficult for him to speak his innocent ideas of their friendship to Matthew, and was suddenly embarrassed, feeling like he’d imagined the closeness he’d found between him and the other boy.
Silence greeted him, Matthew’s muffled breathing the only thing that let him know he was still on the line. The distant shouting had ceased momentarily and Dominic calmed his breathing down, hoping that there would be no more.
“Why? Is…Are you okay?”
The blonde heard a deep sigh. “I’m tired, Dom. I’m tired.” It was the way that he said it, his young voice sounding thirty years its senior, that caused Dominic’s arms to be raised with gooseflesh. “I just…I don’t know.” His voice began to waver slightly. A muted noise sounded in the background.
Dominic quirked an eyebrow, trying to listen as close as he could. He heard Matthew, muffled and quiet, as if he was hiding the phone. He heard someone else speaking, roughly, and wondered for a moment if that was his father. He heard Matthew’s reply, and then what sounded like a door shutting. Something rubbed against the phone, causing a static noise to come across the line.
“Dom?” Came his sudden voice, nearly blending in with Dominic’s soft breathing.
“I’m here. Are you okay?”
“I have to go, Dom.”
“What? No! Matt, what’s going on?” But the line was dead.
The low beeping in Dominic’s ears echoed, each repetition mocking Dominic, making him think of the lonely boy miles away. He was anxious, to say the least, about the happenings in Matthew’s home. Dominic knew that his home life wasn’t congenial or agreeable, at least from what Matthew had told him, but he didn’t understand the possibility of it being as bad as drunken violence. If it was to ever exceed that far, of course. Still, Dominic was worried for Matthew, and felt at that moment like his protector of sorts. He was confused by his sudden, almost possessive, feeling towards the boy, by this desire to be with him and to comfort him. He’d always been a more sensitive type of boy, sometimes mercilessly tormented by schoolyard bullies at his love art or his taste in music, calling him names that he refused to take to heart. Dominic was passionate, and he was okay with that.
Yet when he met Matthew, something inside of him changed. He’d started listening to classical music more often, started painting on whim and impulse alone instead of planning out exactly what he was to do as he had learned. In the short time he’d known him, he felt more free, and this confounded the boy.
When Dominic answered the phone and heard the sound of Matthew’s voice, he was overwhelmed by his own subconsciously joyous reaction. And the moment that he detected the faintest hint of distraught present in his tone, he was automatically worried. Almost motherly. He terribly wanted to know why Matthew had to leave so quickly, wanted to know if he was okay and safe, wanted to know if he went to sleep that night with a smile on his face or with lines of worry creasing his youthful face. Dominic wished more than anything in that moment, as he listened to the incessant dull beeping of the dead line, that he could transfer his own family’s happiness to Matthew. To bring in the younger boy, show him love and compassion and family. He knew that he received it when he was with his gran, but that wasn’t enough. Not at all.
Dominic slowly pulled the phone away from his face, his arm cramping from being held in the same position for so long. He walked the few steps to its holder and sat it down, the soft click resounding. Without the beeping in his ear, the silence was deafening, pushing in on him and making itself more and more known.
He wondered if the same silence was oppressively surrounding Matthew, and in that moment, as he looked at the white of the tile on the floor, he missed him more than ever.
Author:
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 shite ain't kosher.
Note: :D is my face right now. I've had some serious issues with this chapter. Like, I don't even KNOW why. I just had this massive writer's block and avoided writing this like the plague. Until I actually figured out what I was doing, of course. lol. wow. My life. I'm a bit loopy right now, jsyk, so this probably isn't making much sense. As usual, my darling
lalalive23 is well, a darling. I've given her a ton of grief the last 20 minutes just to be a little shit which induced some massive lolz on my behalf, so I owe her a ton. For like, dealing with my insecurity on some parts etc etc. And I'm shutting up now and letting you read. Bless my school for giving me two snow days to write like a crazy mofo.A few seconds later
"Matt?" Dominic stuttered, a sudden burst of happiness racing through his veins. The wide grin that had broken across his face faltered when he heard a muffled whimper. Worry settled over him, the silence he received as an answer causing him to hurriedly press the STOP button on the microwave, turning around on his heel to head to the nearest seat. Sitting down on the hard wood of a chair, Dominic tried again. "Matt, are you okay? What's up?"
A loud crash followed by a choking sob hit Dominic's ears with the force of a battering ram.
Before Dominic had the chance to question again, a small voice spoke up. "I-I'm s-s-sorry I called, Do-om." A sniffle. "D-Didn't know," another echoing noise and Dominic could practically hear him jump, "who else t-to call."
Nervous, the blonde squirmed on the chair, crossing and uncrossing his legs while he listened to him. He’d never heard someone sound so sad, so genuinely distraught and almost, dare he think, scared.
“It’s okay, Matt. Are you okay? What’s happening?” Dominic suddenly wished that his mum was home. He was at a complete loss at what to say, and he knew without a doubt that she’d know exactly how to go about this situation, if there was one. Dominic couldn’t deny, though, the feeling of protectiveness that seemed to dominate all other emotions present at this moment. It caught him off guard, this desire to be at Matthew’s side and to make him laugh, make him happy, to bring that light to his eyes that he felt wasn’t lit nearly enough.
“I-I’m scared, Dom. My d-dad came home drunk. I’ve never s-seen him like this. My mum started yelling at him. Said she didn’t want him angry and around us. A-And they s-started–” A loud crash caused a sob to erupt over the phone, and Dominic found himself subconsciously sitting upright, his free hand gripping the edge of his seat while the other clutched tightly to the phone pressed against his face.
“Matthew, what is happening.” He had no question in his voice, and he began to nervously tap his fingers against the wood.
“I’m s-sorry D-Dom. I-I…my gran didn’t a-answer her ph-phone,” another sob wracked itself through Dominic’s eardrums, screaming down his veins and pumping his heart with rapid beats. “I-I didn’t mean to c-ca-all yo–”
“Matthew, don’t you dare hang up that phone!” Dominic shouted, his nervousness of what was happening at his friend’s house skyrocketing.
By now, Matthew was nearly unintelligible. “T-They s-started to fi-fight a-an…Just never s-seen him so mad and I d-dunno w-why…H-he started r-raising his voice real loud a-and my mum s-started th-thr–” The young boy broke off crying, silent and gasping. Dominic could practically see his friend curled into a ball, tucked away in the furthest corner of a dark room, muffling his cries with the heel of his palm.
Dominic sat, motionless, his mouth open and flapping like a fish while he tried to find the words to say. He’d definitely never been in this position before, yet he wanted more than anything to be there, with Matthew, holding him and soothing him, whispering that everything would be alright and that he was safe. That no one would ever make a tear fall from his eyes again unless it was one of pure and childish glee. Hand numb from holding the chair for so long and so tight, he let go, standing up and beginning to pace down the hallway.
Beams of moonlight washed over his features every time he passed by the foyer, highlighting the distress on his face, frown lines present on a face of one far too young to know anything of sadness or worry. He could only imagine what Matthew’s face looked like, blue eyes glimmering with pools of tears, his pale and gaunt cheeks streaked with wet lines, his nose pink and lips quivering as they opened to sob out his sorrow.
“Matt…” Dominic started lowly, stopping his incessant pacing and standing still, facing the wall of the front hallway. He leaned his forehead against it, his forearm pressed against the wall to the side of his head. With the weight of Matthew’s world upon his shoulders, he breathed out. “Matt, it’s okay, mate. Just breathe, okay? Listen to my voice and nothing else.” Exhaling slowly, Dominic tried to think of the most soothing thing to say to someone. “Pretend they aren’t fighting, yeah?”
Matthew’s sobs, which had softened infinitesimally, again rose up in both pitch and volume at the mention of his parent’s fight. Dominic leaned his head back only to thump it gently against the wall, calling himself an idiot under his breath.
“Okay, that wasn’t the right thing to say. Just…just pretend…pretend you’re at your piano. Yeah. You’re playing the piano. That makes you happy, doesn’t it?” Sighing heavily, Dominic questioned himself, unsure if even that was the correct thing to say. “Matt?”
A long beat of silence later, and Matthew’s crying gradually lessened to sniffles and the occasional hiccup. “Yes.” His voice was rough, soft, and so quiet that Dominic almost didn’t hear the reply.
“Good! I quite love the piano, too.” Biting his lip, he pushed off of the wall and fell back against the opposite one, his breath escaping his lungs with a huff.
“What are you doing, Dom?” The tone present in those syllables was unemotional. Blank.
“Um…I’m standing. Well, leaning. Against a wall. In my house. Er, hallway. W-Why?” He stuttered, his throat suddenly dry, worry rearing its head once again at the hollowness in Matthew’s voice.
“That’s not what I meant.” The sniffles were gone now, the silence in both houses punctuated by a random hiccup and Dominic’s shallow breathing. The blonde swore he could hear faint shouting over the line.
“I-I…”
“Why do you care?” Matthew asked flatly.
“Because you’re…my friend. And…I-I dunno. I guess… you just…had me worried. About your safety.” Dominic swallowed, confused about why it was so difficult for him to speak his innocent ideas of their friendship to Matthew, and was suddenly embarrassed, feeling like he’d imagined the closeness he’d found between him and the other boy.
Silence greeted him, Matthew’s muffled breathing the only thing that let him know he was still on the line. The distant shouting had ceased momentarily and Dominic calmed his breathing down, hoping that there would be no more.
“Why? Is…Are you okay?”
The blonde heard a deep sigh. “I’m tired, Dom. I’m tired.” It was the way that he said it, his young voice sounding thirty years its senior, that caused Dominic’s arms to be raised with gooseflesh. “I just…I don’t know.” His voice began to waver slightly. A muted noise sounded in the background.
Dominic quirked an eyebrow, trying to listen as close as he could. He heard Matthew, muffled and quiet, as if he was hiding the phone. He heard someone else speaking, roughly, and wondered for a moment if that was his father. He heard Matthew’s reply, and then what sounded like a door shutting. Something rubbed against the phone, causing a static noise to come across the line.
“Dom?” Came his sudden voice, nearly blending in with Dominic’s soft breathing.
“I’m here. Are you okay?”
“I have to go, Dom.”
“What? No! Matt, what’s going on?” But the line was dead.
The low beeping in Dominic’s ears echoed, each repetition mocking Dominic, making him think of the lonely boy miles away. He was anxious, to say the least, about the happenings in Matthew’s home. Dominic knew that his home life wasn’t congenial or agreeable, at least from what Matthew had told him, but he didn’t understand the possibility of it being as bad as drunken violence. If it was to ever exceed that far, of course. Still, Dominic was worried for Matthew, and felt at that moment like his protector of sorts. He was confused by his sudden, almost possessive, feeling towards the boy, by this desire to be with him and to comfort him. He’d always been a more sensitive type of boy, sometimes mercilessly tormented by schoolyard bullies at his love art or his taste in music, calling him names that he refused to take to heart. Dominic was passionate, and he was okay with that.
Yet when he met Matthew, something inside of him changed. He’d started listening to classical music more often, started painting on whim and impulse alone instead of planning out exactly what he was to do as he had learned. In the short time he’d known him, he felt more free, and this confounded the boy.
When Dominic answered the phone and heard the sound of Matthew’s voice, he was overwhelmed by his own subconsciously joyous reaction. And the moment that he detected the faintest hint of distraught present in his tone, he was automatically worried. Almost motherly. He terribly wanted to know why Matthew had to leave so quickly, wanted to know if he was okay and safe, wanted to know if he went to sleep that night with a smile on his face or with lines of worry creasing his youthful face. Dominic wished more than anything in that moment, as he listened to the incessant dull beeping of the dead line, that he could transfer his own family’s happiness to Matthew. To bring in the younger boy, show him love and compassion and family. He knew that he received it when he was with his gran, but that wasn’t enough. Not at all.
Dominic slowly pulled the phone away from his face, his arm cramping from being held in the same position for so long. He walked the few steps to its holder and sat it down, the soft click resounding. Without the beeping in his ear, the silence was deafening, pushing in on him and making itself more and more known.
He wondered if the same silence was oppressively surrounding Matthew, and in that moment, as he looked at the white of the tile on the floor, he missed him more than ever.