Adequacy of Addiction: Chapter 1
Jan. 24th, 2011 11:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sunshine_173Author: ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sunshine_173
Rating: PG
Pairing: BellDom
Summary: Explores the darker side of a relationship; What it means to be truly addicted to someone.
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: Absolutely nothing
Note: Don't really have anything to say except hellooo. Here's the first chapter. Thanks tolalalive23 and flavoroftea for being gorgeous bit readers and just...amazing, in general. Also, because I 1)Actually want you to know what he looks like, and 2) am a whore, this is AA Matthew.
I was flying.
Wind rushed across my face, whipping my hair back and forth, stinging my skin. Colors flew passed me, painful in their vividness, screaming, straining, wanting to be heard more than to be seen, their hues blending and mixing together in maddening streaks, swirling in the air as veins of gold and red and white. Sound was insignificant in this world of chromatism, pigment and shade, of beauty and the blur of texture and feel. A tempest whirled against my naked flesh, blasting its gentle zephyr.
I opened my eyes and in this hazy mire of living nonexistence, I chanced to realize I wasn’t flying at all.
I was falling.
My sight cleared, sharpening and crystallizing into focus. Details came into my vision, lines, jagged edges and rawness everywhere, shrieking and roaring as I sped away from them with mind-numbing speed. Only they appeared a millisecond later, stronger and more defined.
I wanted to close my eyes. I wanted to escape the prick of the cold air blowing into my face as I fell. I hurled faster, my body wrapped in a cocoon of fire, and I turned into a projectile ablaze. I burned, I writhed. The flames possessed me and I could feel every pore on my body, every hair, every cell and molecule awake.
The colors around me darkened, black and white all I could see. I felt my eyelashes rip away from the speed of my descent, the pain of the separation negated by the whip of the wind as it ignited my skin. I was light incarnate, I was a Greek sacrifice. I plummeted towards the ground, and yet the ground was nowhere. It surrounded me and yet it was invisible, permeable.
I slipped through a sieve in the universe, and my world turned into obsidian. Onyx. Piceous and gone.
My very being began to disintegrate, and time stilled, freezing me in an abyss of inky stone. I was spread eagle, suspended somewhere in the space/time continuum. My head creaked to the side, one direction, and then the next. Joints bent and twisted, stretching, and my eyes took in the sight of my fingers elongating, their tips disappearing until my arms, my legs, my body was shooting arrows of cosmic dust and light, and I saw no more.
I shook violently, my eyes wrenching themselves open and darting around the oppressive darkness. My room was completely black, making me feel claustrophobic, reminding me too much of the dream I’d just awoken from. Turning my head to the side, I pressed my cheek into the coolness of the pillow, eyes searching for some pinpoint of light, something to give distinction from the inkiness of the walls around me. Not even a shimmer of brightness tried to peek through the curtains of the window, and the abysmal obscurity of the room threatened to cause me to panic.
In my peripheral, something glowed dimly, a faint bluish hue pulsating in a rhythmically slow beat. My gaze flickered upwards, catching sight of my alarm clock, the LED flashing 5:13. This granted me a sense of familiarity, my heartbeat returning to normal. Pushing myself up and to the headboard, I pressed into the cold wood, attempting to ground my consciousness, to remind myself that I was in my flat, not floating into the void of the unknown.
Inhaling deeply, I brought my hands up to my face, dragging sweaty palms and tingling fingers down clammy and pallid skin. There was no real sense in trying to draw my mind away from the frightening simplicity of my dream; I’d had it before, many times before, and each time I woke up the same. It never truly leaves, always waiting in the shadows of my subconscious, a hungry predator abiding its time.
I don’t honestly understand why it affects me the way it does. The dream is straightforward, simple. I’m falling through the air, colors whizzing by me as I spin, speeding up faster and faster until I ignite on fire, but I don’t burn. My skin is singed and from the speed of the descent, or am I falling upwards?, the hair on my body is ripped from its roots. In time, I’ll reach a hole, slip through it into utter and complete blackness.
This is the part of the dream that disturbs me, the part that perturbs my mind so much that I wake up shaking and paranoid, scared of the very walls, scared that they are listening, breathing, waiting to devour me, to vacuum me into their emptiness. I’m surrounded by nothing but black, the Cimmerian shade so vast it creates its own universe. My body glows, shimmering, extending, resplendent and sparking. My appendages shoot out beams of light and I’m annihilated by the sheer grandiosity of the blaze.
I have it memorized. Every facet of that dream, memorized. Night after night, I both dread falling asleep and am intrigued by it. Part of me wishes to be an insomniac, to never have to experience the all-consuming fright that seizes me when I fade into that void, the Absolute. But the other part, the curious side of my consciousness that hungers for excitement, for knowledge, wants to fall into deep REM, wants to dissect every imaginable and impossible corner in order to uncover an explanation for why it haunts me. I’m constantly at war with myself, a hopeless internal conflict, and I’m scared, unquestionably.
Groaning, I stretch, my head hitting the headboard with a dull thud. Shaking my black hair out of my face, the fringe plastered to the sweaty skin of my forehead, I sit up, my back tense. I twist my head to both sides, popping it, swinging it forward to hang at the same time that I bring both hands in front of me, the palms facing towards the farthest wall, and stretch. My muscles were strained, taut, and it was as if I could actually feel every single knot in my back. I swung my legs over the edge of my bed, struggling for a moment with the tangle of the black sheets. My skin prickled at the coolness of the air, the floor greeting the undersides of my bare feet with an icy bite. I suppressed a yawn and reached out to flick on the lamp at the side of the bed. Fluorescent illumination flashed out, causing the cream lampshade to glow, light spreading out over the confines of the small bedroom.
I stood up, the joints in my ankles aching, and stumbled slightly. I bent over, stretching, placing my palms flat on the floor, and inhaled slowly though my nose. Exhaling, I slowly straightened up, feeling somewhat loosened, and walked towards the bathroom. I yawned, pushing the door open, and stepped onto the softness of the bathroom rug. Light flooded the room when I flipped the switch, and I lifted my head to stare at my reflection. Pale blue eyes gazed back at me, dark bags lying under them from the sleep deprivation that has consumed me ever since I moved to Chicago over a year and a half ago. Ivory skin, ebony hair. Thin arms dangling by the side of a thinner body clad in an oversized grey t-shirt, the bony frame pronounced. Snow and ink and sapphire, all awash in the confines of a reflective surface. I sighed, placed delicate fingers against my temple and pressed, easing myself into a more relaxed state of mind.
Coughing, I walked the short distance to the shower, sliding open the shower curtain and leaning down to turn the knob for the water. The echoing sound of the faucets creaking into use, the pound of the water pouring out and into the bathtub, all resonated in my ears, thrumming my ear drums and vibrating throughout me. All the combined noises seemed far too loud this early in the morning, though I wake up at this time every day. It seemed there was just something missing, something that made it feel like I would never get used to the sounds my old flat made.
Steam began to fill the room, and I stripped, tugging blue plaid boxers down and pulling my shirt over my head. I stepped inside and slid shut the curtain, tilting my face up to the stream of warm water pouring down like rain from angry clouds. Rivulets fell down my body, thin veins of water twisting in abstract shapes on the paleness of my skin.
Shutting my eyes and breathing in deep, my chest expanded as air raced through my nostrils and filled my lungs.
∙∙∙∙∙
“Matthew! Where’d your skinny ass disappear to?” A quiet feminine voice pierced the silence of the Chicago Public Library, and I chuckled lowly to myself when I saw the small, brunette form of my coworker Elise walking determinedly towards the shelf of books that I leant against as I sipped the coffee I brought with me from lunch. It’d been an easy day, not many people coming into the library aside from a few students in need for necessary study material. This was both a blessing and a curse, my mind not needing the extra time to freely think.
Staring at her advancing form over the lid of my cup, I grinned when she caught sight of me. “Hi.”
She stopped in front of me, quirking her hips and smiling. “Hello there, darlin’. Shoulda known you’d be over here.” Giggling to herself, she sidled over, sliding down and plopping on the carpeted floor to my right. “I have a question to ask you.”
“Okay, shoot.” Popping my neck, I turned and looked at her, her hazel eyes shining with unspoken hope before her nose wrinkled up in distaste.
“I can’t stand when you do that, y’know. It’s just…nasty.” She said in her soft voice, lilting with a subdued Southern twang. “Anywho, are you busy tonight?”
I raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think so. Probably not. Why do you ask?”
“Well, Jacob, Sam and I were planning on going out tonight. Probably clubbing, I don’t know.” I smiled when she named off most of the staff of the library, only excluding an elderly man who did nothing but dust. “Jacob’s bringing his girlfriend and Sam is probably bringing a friend or two. I was wonderin’ if you wanted to tag along, maybe? You’re welcome to bring anyone.”
Her wide eyes gazed up at me, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to deny her hopeful stare. “Sure. Time and place?” She grinned widely, doing a little jump, her brown locks bouncing against her shoulder, and began to give me directions to a club that had opened recently. Giggling, she stood up and ruffled my hair, traipsing towards the back of the building.
I leaned my head back against the hard binding of a book of poetry, shutting my eyes and welcoming the silence that once again surrounded me. Stretching my legs out in front of me, I smiled to myself. I was admittedly curious what tonight would bring, as I’d only explored the Chicago nightlife a handful of times since I’d come here. Sighing, I shivered, pulling my jacket tighter around my body as I stood up, throwing away trash and heading back to the front desk.
sunshine_173 Rating: PG
Pairing: BellDom
Summary: Explores the darker side of a relationship; What it means to be truly addicted to someone.
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: Absolutely nothing
Note: Don't really have anything to say except hellooo. Here's the first chapter. Thanks to
lalalive23 and flavoroftea for being gorgeous bit readers and just...amazing, in general. Also, because I 1)Actually want you to know what he looks like, and 2) am a whore, this is AA Matthew. I was flying.
Wind rushed across my face, whipping my hair back and forth, stinging my skin. Colors flew passed me, painful in their vividness, screaming, straining, wanting to be heard more than to be seen, their hues blending and mixing together in maddening streaks, swirling in the air as veins of gold and red and white. Sound was insignificant in this world of chromatism, pigment and shade, of beauty and the blur of texture and feel. A tempest whirled against my naked flesh, blasting its gentle zephyr.
I opened my eyes and in this hazy mire of living nonexistence, I chanced to realize I wasn’t flying at all.
I was falling.
My sight cleared, sharpening and crystallizing into focus. Details came into my vision, lines, jagged edges and rawness everywhere, shrieking and roaring as I sped away from them with mind-numbing speed. Only they appeared a millisecond later, stronger and more defined.
I wanted to close my eyes. I wanted to escape the prick of the cold air blowing into my face as I fell. I hurled faster, my body wrapped in a cocoon of fire, and I turned into a projectile ablaze. I burned, I writhed. The flames possessed me and I could feel every pore on my body, every hair, every cell and molecule awake.
The colors around me darkened, black and white all I could see. I felt my eyelashes rip away from the speed of my descent, the pain of the separation negated by the whip of the wind as it ignited my skin. I was light incarnate, I was a Greek sacrifice. I plummeted towards the ground, and yet the ground was nowhere. It surrounded me and yet it was invisible, permeable.
I slipped through a sieve in the universe, and my world turned into obsidian. Onyx. Piceous and gone.
My very being began to disintegrate, and time stilled, freezing me in an abyss of inky stone. I was spread eagle, suspended somewhere in the space/time continuum. My head creaked to the side, one direction, and then the next. Joints bent and twisted, stretching, and my eyes took in the sight of my fingers elongating, their tips disappearing until my arms, my legs, my body was shooting arrows of cosmic dust and light, and I saw no more.
I shook violently, my eyes wrenching themselves open and darting around the oppressive darkness. My room was completely black, making me feel claustrophobic, reminding me too much of the dream I’d just awoken from. Turning my head to the side, I pressed my cheek into the coolness of the pillow, eyes searching for some pinpoint of light, something to give distinction from the inkiness of the walls around me. Not even a shimmer of brightness tried to peek through the curtains of the window, and the abysmal obscurity of the room threatened to cause me to panic.
In my peripheral, something glowed dimly, a faint bluish hue pulsating in a rhythmically slow beat. My gaze flickered upwards, catching sight of my alarm clock, the LED flashing 5:13. This granted me a sense of familiarity, my heartbeat returning to normal. Pushing myself up and to the headboard, I pressed into the cold wood, attempting to ground my consciousness, to remind myself that I was in my flat, not floating into the void of the unknown.
Inhaling deeply, I brought my hands up to my face, dragging sweaty palms and tingling fingers down clammy and pallid skin. There was no real sense in trying to draw my mind away from the frightening simplicity of my dream; I’d had it before, many times before, and each time I woke up the same. It never truly leaves, always waiting in the shadows of my subconscious, a hungry predator abiding its time.
I don’t honestly understand why it affects me the way it does. The dream is straightforward, simple. I’m falling through the air, colors whizzing by me as I spin, speeding up faster and faster until I ignite on fire, but I don’t burn. My skin is singed and from the speed of the descent, or am I falling upwards?, the hair on my body is ripped from its roots. In time, I’ll reach a hole, slip through it into utter and complete blackness.
This is the part of the dream that disturbs me, the part that perturbs my mind so much that I wake up shaking and paranoid, scared of the very walls, scared that they are listening, breathing, waiting to devour me, to vacuum me into their emptiness. I’m surrounded by nothing but black, the Cimmerian shade so vast it creates its own universe. My body glows, shimmering, extending, resplendent and sparking. My appendages shoot out beams of light and I’m annihilated by the sheer grandiosity of the blaze.
I have it memorized. Every facet of that dream, memorized. Night after night, I both dread falling asleep and am intrigued by it. Part of me wishes to be an insomniac, to never have to experience the all-consuming fright that seizes me when I fade into that void, the Absolute. But the other part, the curious side of my consciousness that hungers for excitement, for knowledge, wants to fall into deep REM, wants to dissect every imaginable and impossible corner in order to uncover an explanation for why it haunts me. I’m constantly at war with myself, a hopeless internal conflict, and I’m scared, unquestionably.
Groaning, I stretch, my head hitting the headboard with a dull thud. Shaking my black hair out of my face, the fringe plastered to the sweaty skin of my forehead, I sit up, my back tense. I twist my head to both sides, popping it, swinging it forward to hang at the same time that I bring both hands in front of me, the palms facing towards the farthest wall, and stretch. My muscles were strained, taut, and it was as if I could actually feel every single knot in my back. I swung my legs over the edge of my bed, struggling for a moment with the tangle of the black sheets. My skin prickled at the coolness of the air, the floor greeting the undersides of my bare feet with an icy bite. I suppressed a yawn and reached out to flick on the lamp at the side of the bed. Fluorescent illumination flashed out, causing the cream lampshade to glow, light spreading out over the confines of the small bedroom.
I stood up, the joints in my ankles aching, and stumbled slightly. I bent over, stretching, placing my palms flat on the floor, and inhaled slowly though my nose. Exhaling, I slowly straightened up, feeling somewhat loosened, and walked towards the bathroom. I yawned, pushing the door open, and stepped onto the softness of the bathroom rug. Light flooded the room when I flipped the switch, and I lifted my head to stare at my reflection. Pale blue eyes gazed back at me, dark bags lying under them from the sleep deprivation that has consumed me ever since I moved to Chicago over a year and a half ago. Ivory skin, ebony hair. Thin arms dangling by the side of a thinner body clad in an oversized grey t-shirt, the bony frame pronounced. Snow and ink and sapphire, all awash in the confines of a reflective surface. I sighed, placed delicate fingers against my temple and pressed, easing myself into a more relaxed state of mind.
Coughing, I walked the short distance to the shower, sliding open the shower curtain and leaning down to turn the knob for the water. The echoing sound of the faucets creaking into use, the pound of the water pouring out and into the bathtub, all resonated in my ears, thrumming my ear drums and vibrating throughout me. All the combined noises seemed far too loud this early in the morning, though I wake up at this time every day. It seemed there was just something missing, something that made it feel like I would never get used to the sounds my old flat made.
Steam began to fill the room, and I stripped, tugging blue plaid boxers down and pulling my shirt over my head. I stepped inside and slid shut the curtain, tilting my face up to the stream of warm water pouring down like rain from angry clouds. Rivulets fell down my body, thin veins of water twisting in abstract shapes on the paleness of my skin.
Shutting my eyes and breathing in deep, my chest expanded as air raced through my nostrils and filled my lungs.
∙∙∙∙∙
“Matthew! Where’d your skinny ass disappear to?” A quiet feminine voice pierced the silence of the Chicago Public Library, and I chuckled lowly to myself when I saw the small, brunette form of my coworker Elise walking determinedly towards the shelf of books that I leant against as I sipped the coffee I brought with me from lunch. It’d been an easy day, not many people coming into the library aside from a few students in need for necessary study material. This was both a blessing and a curse, my mind not needing the extra time to freely think.
Staring at her advancing form over the lid of my cup, I grinned when she caught sight of me. “Hi.”
She stopped in front of me, quirking her hips and smiling. “Hello there, darlin’. Shoulda known you’d be over here.” Giggling to herself, she sidled over, sliding down and plopping on the carpeted floor to my right. “I have a question to ask you.”
“Okay, shoot.” Popping my neck, I turned and looked at her, her hazel eyes shining with unspoken hope before her nose wrinkled up in distaste.
“I can’t stand when you do that, y’know. It’s just…nasty.” She said in her soft voice, lilting with a subdued Southern twang. “Anywho, are you busy tonight?”
I raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think so. Probably not. Why do you ask?”
“Well, Jacob, Sam and I were planning on going out tonight. Probably clubbing, I don’t know.” I smiled when she named off most of the staff of the library, only excluding an elderly man who did nothing but dust. “Jacob’s bringing his girlfriend and Sam is probably bringing a friend or two. I was wonderin’ if you wanted to tag along, maybe? You’re welcome to bring anyone.”
Her wide eyes gazed up at me, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to deny her hopeful stare. “Sure. Time and place?” She grinned widely, doing a little jump, her brown locks bouncing against her shoulder, and began to give me directions to a club that had opened recently. Giggling, she stood up and ruffled my hair, traipsing towards the back of the building.
I leaned my head back against the hard binding of a book of poetry, shutting my eyes and welcoming the silence that once again surrounded me. Stretching my legs out in front of me, I smiled to myself. I was admittedly curious what tonight would bring, as I’d only explored the Chicago nightlife a handful of times since I’d come here. Sighing, I shivered, pulling my jacket tighter around my body as I stood up, throwing away trash and heading back to the front desk.
