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fellowshippers2004-06-28 03:52 pm
andrealyn) wrote in fellowshippers2004-06-28 03:52 pm
(no subject)
TITLE: The Virtue Of Men
Pairings: Dom/Billy, Billy/Elijah, Karl/Viggo
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Oh, this never occurred.
Summary: Billy's got strength, but is it enough?
Notes: Thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
captnobvious for beta and twinklypixie for translations.
Dom is having trouble sleeping at night. He tosses and turns, and he gets up to pace down the halls. He and Billy are having troubles as it is. He doesn’t want to have another item on the long list, and he especially doesn’t want that item to be Billy whinging about being kept up. Dom doesn’t mean to stay awake; he’s just too preoccupied with a notion that’s begun to dominate all his other thoughts.
In his heart of hearts, Dom knows.
It’s a gnawing fear in the pit of his stomach that tells him that Billy is keeping secrets, keeping old memories, keeping other more tangible objects. He doesn’t have to be told that Billy is keeping one of the bruises, teasing at it and creating new blossoms on the original injury.
What’s worse, the knowledge of this stirs up things in Dom that he thought he had done well in suppressing. He and Billy are not okay. Billy seems to be walking through the motions like he thinks that’s what Dom wants him to do. There’s barely anything left between them but a faint flicker of a bond.
Billy seems distant when Dom tries to kiss him.
Dom can’t seem to listen when Billy speaks.
The worst part is that Dom is afraid that Billy’s jealousy is flaring up again. He’s even more afraid that his own anger is going to take off without warning and the vicious cycle will start anew. The one thought that nearly paralyzes him with fear is that if the cycle starts again, he’s not sure that he’ll be able to pull them out of it. Somewhere deep inside, a part of Dom knows and is screaming as loudly as possible that a vicious cycle has already begun, and Dom is just too blissed out on ignorance to acknowledge it.
Billy’s got that bruise, and he’s keeping it. Dom just wants to know why?.
He doesn’t want Billy to hurt. He’d walk through fire to prevent that.
Except he’s the one building the fire, and Billy is helping.
“Bill, for Christ’s sake, it’s not healthy,” Dom is shouting. The noise freezes Sean in his steps. He seems to have picked up a habit of unintentionally eavesdropping on conversations lately. He wills himself to get moving forward, but the back of his brain urges him to stay. Just in case, he rationalizes.
“You don’t control this, Dominic,” Billy replies icily. They seem to be fighting in the study, and Sean has frozen just outside the double doors. “You don’t get to. This is my decision.”
Sean hears a loud thump, and something breaks. He winces and is glad they paid the safety deposit. Billy shouts something that sounds vaguely akin to, “Dom, what the fuck do you think you’re doing!” before another dull thump is heard and Dom yells back something that is clearly, “I think it’s called losing control. You know, the things I’m allowed to control!”
Now is the time Sean knows he should walk away, but he can’t move.
“Is this about the bruise?” Billy quietly murmurs.
“Gee, you think?” Dom snaps back quickly.
“And Elijah?” Billy asks again, speaking as quietly as he had the first time.
“So you fucked him,” Dom says, his voice harsh and cold all at once. “You fucked him. I almost did. Who hasn’t?”
There is silence for a good while, and Sean is finding it difficult to find breath at all. He’s suddenly not so sure he wants either Dom or Billy to be coming to him with these problems because they’re just too ridiculous for words. More silence, and then Billy snaps out with: “Don’t touch me!” so Dom must have attempted something.
That’s when Sean walks away, unable to listen to any more.
fortitudas
It had been three months into filming.
Billy had wanted him because of the eyes. They had intrigued him, pulled him in, and hadn’t let go until he had been thrusting into Elijah, nails digging into his hips, mind ruminating on whether Elijah’s eyes were dilating or changing colour somehow. Nothing was supposed to be that colour, that shade, that shape; not without being fake. Billy had seen the way Elijah had looked at him. A gaze full of curiosity, cheer, and invitation.
“It can just be this once,” Elijah had whispered in the pub one night, a grin that had been too big growing on his face. Billy had finished the rest of his beer before checking his surroundings and seeing Viggo, Orlando, and Sean Astin all chatting away beside them at the bar.
‘And he chose me,’ Billy recalls.
Elijah had looked at him, and the gaze that had pierced Billy was almost like an electric shock convulsing through his body. Elijah had licked his lower lip and had leaned in even closer, hips brushing against Billy’s.
“Or…maybe more than once,” he had added in an even quieter voice.
Billy had moved his body forward, eyes looking at Elijah and he had wondered if maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t a good idea. In the back of his mind, thoughts had rushed forward, urging him to take this opportunity while he could, before anyone else did. Billy had licked the top of his beer bottle before setting it down on the bar with a few notes of currency.
“For one night,” Billy had whispered back, “you’re mine.”
“Or…”
“Or maybe more.”
Those words had been in both of their minds while Billy had undressed Elijah, fingers lightly running down the pale skin of his chest in a constant flow. Billy’s hands had moved like water as they took down Elijah’s trousers to the sound of Elijah sucking in quick breaths and cursing under his breath.
“More,” Elijah had gasped aloud when Billy’s lips had pressed against Elijah’s neck, sucking lightly on the skin. Elijah’s whole body had shaken with something that Elijah had confirmed as excitement when they were lying down and looking up to the stars later. Billy had barely noticed.
Some part of Billy should have protested, and told him that he wasn’t supposed to be doing this. Some part of him should have been accusing him of taking the poor boy when he wasn’t ready. Instead, all Billy could think was:
mine, mine, got here first, and he’s all mine
Such thoughts would lead to his downfall, Billy had suspected and hadn’t known how right he was at the time. He unhooked the button on Elijah’s jeans, and had taken his own shirt off with nothing resembling grace, and everything resembling swift speed. He had pushed Elijah to the bed with nothing more than a pleased grin before taking off his own socks and running his tongue from Elijah’s lower stomach all the way up to his lips, kissing there chastely.
Billy had wondered in that moment if those lips had kissed Dom’s. And then he had wondered what it would be like to taste Dom.
He had pulled off Elijah’s socks, jeans, and boxers within seconds of each other and as soon as he had stripped himself of clothing, had pressed his body down on Elijah. Everything had been fast, quick, and barely more than a flash of a memory. With quick efficiency, and nothing more than a thought that followed the lines of: ‘Fucking gorgeous when he’s on his back’, Billy had prepared Elijah and had slipped into him, closing his eyes as he did.
The pace had quickened, Billy had succeeded in losing himself, and when Elijah came with a long groan and Billy’s name, all that Billy could think about was whether the eyes had ever changed, whether things would be the same the next morning, and whether or not anyone else had done something like this with Elijah yet.
And of course, the thought that persisted most of all was: ‘Should I tell Dom?’
Their affair had lasted no more than a week of nights in each other’s hotel room, quick blowjobs in the trailer, and one quick fuck in Billy’s shower. By the week’s end, they had both become quickly disillusioned with things.
“I just…” Elijah had started, lighting up a clove. He had looked at Billy – with eyes that didn’t seem to shine as much as they had that night in the bar – and shrugged. “Fuck, I don’t know. I don’t get you. I can’t handle it, I guess.”
“And there’s no spark,” Billy had added, running his tongue over his front teeth as he had thought about everything, and how Elijah couldn’t handle what Billy had wanted to give. Elijah had turned to him and grinned.
“I felt a spark,” Elijah had said with a grin. “There was plenty of heat, but I’m not what you’re looking for. And you…I don’t know, I think you’d probably suffocate me.”
Billy had laughed, and Elijah had joined in on the laughter, inhaling at the cigarette with skilled proficiency.
“You’re a good kid, Lij,” Billy had said before pressing one hand down on Elijah’s shoulder and rubbing it. “And you’re probably right.”
“And I’m not a kid,” Elijah had argued before putting out the cigarette with his foot, and winking at Billy. He had grinned and looked over to the crafts table. “Besides, I hear Dom’s got a spark. Think it’s the one you’re looking for?”
“So you fucked him,” Dom snidely comments and Billy freezes at Dom’s cool tone, his eyes going wide. He had been trying to light a match in the fireplace, busying his hands with unimportant tasks while he defends himself against Dom’s verbal attacks. “You fucked him. I almost did. Who hasn’t?” Billy blows the flame out and rights himself, crossing his arms and staring at Dom with wide eyes.
Neither of them moves. Billy stands there, hurt. Dom glares, but only mildly.
Finally, Dom takes a hesitant step forward, reaching out lightly and moving to place it on Billy’s shoulder – on the shoulder. Billy flinches away, brusquely and tiredly snapping, “Don’t touch me,” back at Dom. “Do not touch me there of all places, Dominic. Do not attempt to make things better with a simple touch after you’ve said that about a friend…”
“Billy, I…”
“No! Dominic, no. Please. I just need some time,” Billy finishes wearily.
“You going to be ready to talk tonight?” Dom asks cautiously, taking a step back and giving Billy just that much more breathing room. Dom clasps tightly onto the table beside him, one hand drifting up to his neck and scratching there, as his hand lingers slightly against his upper chest. “Please?” he pleads quietly.
“Just give me the afternoon,” Billy requests gently, giving a half-smile. “I’ll come by to see you tonight. I just need to find some strength.”
“Billy, you know you have all the strength I can offer to…” Dom starts.
“My own strength,” Billy interrupts quickly and quietly. Dom watches him, his back slumping with every passing second as Billy walks out the door, his feet crunching over broken glass and remnants of once-intact trinkets splayed over the floor.
Billy has a calendar with big blocks designated for the days. He’s had this type of calendar for years now. It had been a gift from Margaret when he had first landed his apprenticeship with the binding company. At the time, his path had been set out for him at his feet. He had been set for a lifetime of hard work and just rewards. Only one thing made it somewhat less than the perfect plan.
Billy had hated it.
The calendar had served as his only link to sanity. At the end of the day in a stuffy factory with co-workers who hated their jobs as much as he did, he would put a large, black ‘X’ through the date and breathe a tiny sigh of relief at having made it through another day. He had found that it was easier to get through things if he took them in increments.
He had the strength to put a smile on his face, to keep a good attitude and to make it through the day. No matter how much he had hated showing up at that place, he had sworn he would never show his distaste for the job. All his vitriol and ennui with his job went into the black ‘X’ on his calendar at the end of the day.
That had been how Billy got by.
He doesn’t have the big calendar anymore. He and Maggie had gotten together the night he got into drama school and had a bonfire in her backyard, silently sipping at tea while flames crackled and consumed the months of years gone by. She had given him a compact personal calendar as he left though, murmuring ‘Just in case,’ before surrounding him in a warm hug.
Ever since Billy had started teasing the bruise, he’s started marking off the days again.
I may have strength, Billy reflects, just not strength enough for this.
“Fortes fortuna adiuvat.”
Billy wrinkles his nose, and turns around to see who’s spoken to him. He had jumped a little, because honestly, who speaks out of nowhere in the middle of a dark hallway in a big house at night. When he spies Miranda lurking around the corner, he raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms. She approaches him, seeming more and more like a cat with every step. She circles him once as he chuckles quietly.
“And what does that mean?” he questions, sounding like a teacher demanding to know what a student is doing with his back turned. She beams at him, and stands directly in front of him, crossing her arms and mirroring Billy.
“Ian made me say it,” she comments nonchalantly. “Fortune favours the brave.”
“Did he pay you?” Billy inquires innocently. Miranda holds her index finger close to her thumb and gives a smile that is willing to rival Billy’s tone of innocence. He laughs again, under his breath.
“Only a little,” she promises, swaying back and forth on her feet. “You know what he means?”
“I do.”
“So then, I want to second it,” Miranda adds swiftly. “I know you’re strong, Bill. We all do. God, I envy you sometimes. The way you get through the bad stuff with a smile, a laugh, and a joke for everyone else. You’re strong. You are too strong to just spend your life like this.”
“Thank you, Mir,” Billy murmurs, glancing up as she nods once before heading back down the hallway she had appeared from. Billy thinks on what she’s said for a moment, taking everything she’s said for truth, and in his heart, knowing that he is that strong.
He turns and begins to walk down the hall to his room, where Dom is no doubt waiting for him. It’s true that he can be stronger than most people in a lot of situations. If he didn’t have that kind of fortitude, he wouldn’t be here today. The strange thing is that he lacks strength in the one place he needs it the most.
Billy’s not sure he has the strength to leave Dom.
He opens the door gently to find all the lights off, and the fireplace going. Dom is leaning forward in a chair to catch some of the warmth from the fire. It’s absurd and definitely something Dom would do, especially when it’s summer outside and feels closer to hell indoors. Billy closes the door behind him, making enough sound to alert Dom of his presence before heading to the chair, slowly arranging himself in Dom’s lap. He doesn’t say a word, but simply rests his head on Dom’s shoulder and wishes for them to be able to go back to what they used to be. He misses being able to talk to Dom without having a fight. He misses cracking jokes and pranks. Most of all, he misses happiness.
“Hey,” Dom murmurs, not moving at all. He seems content to just let Billy be with him.
Billy doesn’t reply. Instead, he seeks out Dom’s lips with his own, shifting and searching for that warmth he’s been missing. He presses his lips firmly against Dom’s as he clumsily stumbles to get his legs secure around Dom’s hips and finally finds the physical memory of the action and straddles him. They both hesitate at first before the sheer desire to have this again – to give in to each other – takes over. Dom tilts his head a little, slipping his tongue into Billy’s mouth. The kiss is more desperate than any physical contact of late, and it’s a frantic attempt to take back things that they’ve missed.
Billy’s hands slowly begin to roam across the breadth of Dom’s hips – fingers lingering with light touches to Dom’s skin as they kiss feverishly, Billy clinging to Dom in whatever way he can – and they can both see where this is going as the speed of their movements intensifies and the kiss grows harder, more desperate.
Billy is just about ready to let his mind drift and to forget every single thing that’s happened between them the past few weeks when Dom’s hands take him by the shoulders and hold tightly.
Dom’s hands hold him so tightly that Billy wonders if he’s expected to run off and this is Dom’s way of preventing it.
And then he lets out a cry of pain, right into Dom’s mouth.
He pulls away immediately. He doesn’t stand up, but he puts enough space between their faces for it to be uncomfortable. Dom goes pale very quickly as they both let realization set in, but Dom’s shock is quickly replaced by a look of righteous disappointment. Billy swallows hard and doesn’t say anything.
“Billy, it’s not…”
“Healthy, I get it,” Billy snaps back. He gets up off of Dom, and grabs a pillow from one of the chairs. He tosses it on the bed, and manages to do many things that are all unnecessary as he tidies up a few things on the table, digs through his bag for things he doesn’t need, and occupies himself with stupid thoughts to replace the one that is nagging him.
Can you find the strength to leave him?, it echoes in Billy’s brain.
He sits on the edge of the bed, and doesn’t move. He sits as still as he can be, and lets Dom wander over and sit beside him. Without any words spoken, Dom wraps his arms around Billy’s waist, and rests his head on Billy’s good shoulder.
They stay like that until Dom falls asleep, and Billy sets him down, tugging the covers over them and giving in to sleep as well, one arm draped around Dom. After everything that’s happened between them. He still can’t let go.
Not yet.
Orlando catches Billy’s gaze lingering on him one day while they are hanging around and waiting for everyone to return from town. Orlando has taken to absentmindedly fiddling with the telescope in the library. There’s not much point in using it on that particular day, however, as the fog has all but seeped into their blood.
“You look like you’ve got something on your mind,” Orlando says as he spins the telescope again and again, just as bored with every three hundred and sixty degree rotation. “Or, I’ve got something on my face. What’s up?”
“Just…thinking,” Billy responds with a weak smile.
“Tell me,” Orlando pleads. Billy hesitates before giving a shrug. “Oh, come on, I swear I’ll keep it a secret. What’s it about?”
“Sometimes I wonder,” Billy begins to speak absentmindedly, his eyes fixated on an object that is wholly invisible and quite far in the distance. Orlando tries for a moment to fix his eyes on the same object, but fails horribly in the process. “I wonder if you’re the one who’s luckier.”
“Me?” This takes Orlando far past taken aback. “But you have Dom.”
“It just seems better sometimes to be alone. To be without the troubles and the pain,” he speaks and begins to aimlessly wander about the room. It almost seems as though he is even trying to convince himself of his own words as he speaks. “I wonder,” he murmurs distantly before he leaves the room.
Orlando doesn’t hesitate a moment before he gives chase. Eventually he catches up to Billy, and reaches one arm out quickly – clasping onto the upper portion of Billy’s arm and he receives a great wince of discomfort. Billy immediately halts his forward pace, and turns around to glare at Orlando. The tables turn immediately, and Orlando cowers with something resembling fear.
“Billy, I forgot. I’m…”
“If you say sorry, I don’t know what I’ll do,” Billy warns quietly, one of his hands absently rubbing over the place where Orlando had grabbed at him. The fingers delicately dance over the clothing, and Orlando finds himself drawn to it still, his eyes unable to focus anywhere else. “Orlando, please…please for the love of fucking anyone, stop looking at it.”
“I can’t,” Orlando admits quietly, sighing deeply. “Billy, it’s not right,” he says emphatically, finally tearing his eyes away from Billy’s arm to look him in the eyes. They share a moment of silence in which their eyes lock, and Billy’s careful caress of his arm halts for just a moment.
“No,” Billy agrees sadly, “it’s not right at all.”
There are no more words to be spoken between the two of them, and Billy takes it as his cue to leave. He moves slowly, as though he’s afraid he’ll fall apart if he goes too quickly. Orlando is frozen to the spot and cannot move anywhere. He wishes he could turn and call for help, or chase after Billy again.
But he can’t move at all.
tbc
Pairings: Dom/Billy, Billy/Elijah, Karl/Viggo
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Oh, this never occurred.
Summary: Billy's got strength, but is it enough?
Notes: Thanks to
captnobvious for beta and twinklypixie for translations.Dom is having trouble sleeping at night. He tosses and turns, and he gets up to pace down the halls. He and Billy are having troubles as it is. He doesn’t want to have another item on the long list, and he especially doesn’t want that item to be Billy whinging about being kept up. Dom doesn’t mean to stay awake; he’s just too preoccupied with a notion that’s begun to dominate all his other thoughts.
In his heart of hearts, Dom knows.
It’s a gnawing fear in the pit of his stomach that tells him that Billy is keeping secrets, keeping old memories, keeping other more tangible objects. He doesn’t have to be told that Billy is keeping one of the bruises, teasing at it and creating new blossoms on the original injury.
What’s worse, the knowledge of this stirs up things in Dom that he thought he had done well in suppressing. He and Billy are not okay. Billy seems to be walking through the motions like he thinks that’s what Dom wants him to do. There’s barely anything left between them but a faint flicker of a bond.
Billy seems distant when Dom tries to kiss him.
Dom can’t seem to listen when Billy speaks.
The worst part is that Dom is afraid that Billy’s jealousy is flaring up again. He’s even more afraid that his own anger is going to take off without warning and the vicious cycle will start anew. The one thought that nearly paralyzes him with fear is that if the cycle starts again, he’s not sure that he’ll be able to pull them out of it. Somewhere deep inside, a part of Dom knows and is screaming as loudly as possible that a vicious cycle has already begun, and Dom is just too blissed out on ignorance to acknowledge it.
Billy’s got that bruise, and he’s keeping it. Dom just wants to know why?.
He doesn’t want Billy to hurt. He’d walk through fire to prevent that.
Except he’s the one building the fire, and Billy is helping.
“Bill, for Christ’s sake, it’s not healthy,” Dom is shouting. The noise freezes Sean in his steps. He seems to have picked up a habit of unintentionally eavesdropping on conversations lately. He wills himself to get moving forward, but the back of his brain urges him to stay. Just in case, he rationalizes.
“You don’t control this, Dominic,” Billy replies icily. They seem to be fighting in the study, and Sean has frozen just outside the double doors. “You don’t get to. This is my decision.”
Sean hears a loud thump, and something breaks. He winces and is glad they paid the safety deposit. Billy shouts something that sounds vaguely akin to, “Dom, what the fuck do you think you’re doing!” before another dull thump is heard and Dom yells back something that is clearly, “I think it’s called losing control. You know, the things I’m allowed to control!”
Now is the time Sean knows he should walk away, but he can’t move.
“Is this about the bruise?” Billy quietly murmurs.
“Gee, you think?” Dom snaps back quickly.
“And Elijah?” Billy asks again, speaking as quietly as he had the first time.
“So you fucked him,” Dom says, his voice harsh and cold all at once. “You fucked him. I almost did. Who hasn’t?”
There is silence for a good while, and Sean is finding it difficult to find breath at all. He’s suddenly not so sure he wants either Dom or Billy to be coming to him with these problems because they’re just too ridiculous for words. More silence, and then Billy snaps out with: “Don’t touch me!” so Dom must have attempted something.
That’s when Sean walks away, unable to listen to any more.
It had been three months into filming.
Billy had wanted him because of the eyes. They had intrigued him, pulled him in, and hadn’t let go until he had been thrusting into Elijah, nails digging into his hips, mind ruminating on whether Elijah’s eyes were dilating or changing colour somehow. Nothing was supposed to be that colour, that shade, that shape; not without being fake. Billy had seen the way Elijah had looked at him. A gaze full of curiosity, cheer, and invitation.
“It can just be this once,” Elijah had whispered in the pub one night, a grin that had been too big growing on his face. Billy had finished the rest of his beer before checking his surroundings and seeing Viggo, Orlando, and Sean Astin all chatting away beside them at the bar.
‘And he chose me,’ Billy recalls.
Elijah had looked at him, and the gaze that had pierced Billy was almost like an electric shock convulsing through his body. Elijah had licked his lower lip and had leaned in even closer, hips brushing against Billy’s.
“Or…maybe more than once,” he had added in an even quieter voice.
Billy had moved his body forward, eyes looking at Elijah and he had wondered if maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t a good idea. In the back of his mind, thoughts had rushed forward, urging him to take this opportunity while he could, before anyone else did. Billy had licked the top of his beer bottle before setting it down on the bar with a few notes of currency.
“For one night,” Billy had whispered back, “you’re mine.”
“Or…”
“Or maybe more.”
Those words had been in both of their minds while Billy had undressed Elijah, fingers lightly running down the pale skin of his chest in a constant flow. Billy’s hands had moved like water as they took down Elijah’s trousers to the sound of Elijah sucking in quick breaths and cursing under his breath.
“More,” Elijah had gasped aloud when Billy’s lips had pressed against Elijah’s neck, sucking lightly on the skin. Elijah’s whole body had shaken with something that Elijah had confirmed as excitement when they were lying down and looking up to the stars later. Billy had barely noticed.
Some part of Billy should have protested, and told him that he wasn’t supposed to be doing this. Some part of him should have been accusing him of taking the poor boy when he wasn’t ready. Instead, all Billy could think was:
mine, mine, got here first, and he’s all mine
Such thoughts would lead to his downfall, Billy had suspected and hadn’t known how right he was at the time. He unhooked the button on Elijah’s jeans, and had taken his own shirt off with nothing resembling grace, and everything resembling swift speed. He had pushed Elijah to the bed with nothing more than a pleased grin before taking off his own socks and running his tongue from Elijah’s lower stomach all the way up to his lips, kissing there chastely.
Billy had wondered in that moment if those lips had kissed Dom’s. And then he had wondered what it would be like to taste Dom.
He had pulled off Elijah’s socks, jeans, and boxers within seconds of each other and as soon as he had stripped himself of clothing, had pressed his body down on Elijah. Everything had been fast, quick, and barely more than a flash of a memory. With quick efficiency, and nothing more than a thought that followed the lines of: ‘Fucking gorgeous when he’s on his back’, Billy had prepared Elijah and had slipped into him, closing his eyes as he did.
The pace had quickened, Billy had succeeded in losing himself, and when Elijah came with a long groan and Billy’s name, all that Billy could think about was whether the eyes had ever changed, whether things would be the same the next morning, and whether or not anyone else had done something like this with Elijah yet.
And of course, the thought that persisted most of all was: ‘Should I tell Dom?’
Their affair had lasted no more than a week of nights in each other’s hotel room, quick blowjobs in the trailer, and one quick fuck in Billy’s shower. By the week’s end, they had both become quickly disillusioned with things.
“I just…” Elijah had started, lighting up a clove. He had looked at Billy – with eyes that didn’t seem to shine as much as they had that night in the bar – and shrugged. “Fuck, I don’t know. I don’t get you. I can’t handle it, I guess.”
“And there’s no spark,” Billy had added, running his tongue over his front teeth as he had thought about everything, and how Elijah couldn’t handle what Billy had wanted to give. Elijah had turned to him and grinned.
“I felt a spark,” Elijah had said with a grin. “There was plenty of heat, but I’m not what you’re looking for. And you…I don’t know, I think you’d probably suffocate me.”
Billy had laughed, and Elijah had joined in on the laughter, inhaling at the cigarette with skilled proficiency.
“You’re a good kid, Lij,” Billy had said before pressing one hand down on Elijah’s shoulder and rubbing it. “And you’re probably right.”
“And I’m not a kid,” Elijah had argued before putting out the cigarette with his foot, and winking at Billy. He had grinned and looked over to the crafts table. “Besides, I hear Dom’s got a spark. Think it’s the one you’re looking for?”
“So you fucked him,” Dom snidely comments and Billy freezes at Dom’s cool tone, his eyes going wide. He had been trying to light a match in the fireplace, busying his hands with unimportant tasks while he defends himself against Dom’s verbal attacks. “You fucked him. I almost did. Who hasn’t?” Billy blows the flame out and rights himself, crossing his arms and staring at Dom with wide eyes.
Neither of them moves. Billy stands there, hurt. Dom glares, but only mildly.
Finally, Dom takes a hesitant step forward, reaching out lightly and moving to place it on Billy’s shoulder – on the shoulder. Billy flinches away, brusquely and tiredly snapping, “Don’t touch me,” back at Dom. “Do not touch me there of all places, Dominic. Do not attempt to make things better with a simple touch after you’ve said that about a friend…”
“Billy, I…”
“No! Dominic, no. Please. I just need some time,” Billy finishes wearily.
“You going to be ready to talk tonight?” Dom asks cautiously, taking a step back and giving Billy just that much more breathing room. Dom clasps tightly onto the table beside him, one hand drifting up to his neck and scratching there, as his hand lingers slightly against his upper chest. “Please?” he pleads quietly.
“Just give me the afternoon,” Billy requests gently, giving a half-smile. “I’ll come by to see you tonight. I just need to find some strength.”
“Billy, you know you have all the strength I can offer to…” Dom starts.
“My own strength,” Billy interrupts quickly and quietly. Dom watches him, his back slumping with every passing second as Billy walks out the door, his feet crunching over broken glass and remnants of once-intact trinkets splayed over the floor.
Billy has a calendar with big blocks designated for the days. He’s had this type of calendar for years now. It had been a gift from Margaret when he had first landed his apprenticeship with the binding company. At the time, his path had been set out for him at his feet. He had been set for a lifetime of hard work and just rewards. Only one thing made it somewhat less than the perfect plan.
Billy had hated it.
The calendar had served as his only link to sanity. At the end of the day in a stuffy factory with co-workers who hated their jobs as much as he did, he would put a large, black ‘X’ through the date and breathe a tiny sigh of relief at having made it through another day. He had found that it was easier to get through things if he took them in increments.
He had the strength to put a smile on his face, to keep a good attitude and to make it through the day. No matter how much he had hated showing up at that place, he had sworn he would never show his distaste for the job. All his vitriol and ennui with his job went into the black ‘X’ on his calendar at the end of the day.
That had been how Billy got by.
He doesn’t have the big calendar anymore. He and Maggie had gotten together the night he got into drama school and had a bonfire in her backyard, silently sipping at tea while flames crackled and consumed the months of years gone by. She had given him a compact personal calendar as he left though, murmuring ‘Just in case,’ before surrounding him in a warm hug.
Ever since Billy had started teasing the bruise, he’s started marking off the days again.
I may have strength, Billy reflects, just not strength enough for this.
“Fortes fortuna adiuvat.”
Billy wrinkles his nose, and turns around to see who’s spoken to him. He had jumped a little, because honestly, who speaks out of nowhere in the middle of a dark hallway in a big house at night. When he spies Miranda lurking around the corner, he raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms. She approaches him, seeming more and more like a cat with every step. She circles him once as he chuckles quietly.
“And what does that mean?” he questions, sounding like a teacher demanding to know what a student is doing with his back turned. She beams at him, and stands directly in front of him, crossing her arms and mirroring Billy.
“Ian made me say it,” she comments nonchalantly. “Fortune favours the brave.”
“Did he pay you?” Billy inquires innocently. Miranda holds her index finger close to her thumb and gives a smile that is willing to rival Billy’s tone of innocence. He laughs again, under his breath.
“Only a little,” she promises, swaying back and forth on her feet. “You know what he means?”
“I do.”
“So then, I want to second it,” Miranda adds swiftly. “I know you’re strong, Bill. We all do. God, I envy you sometimes. The way you get through the bad stuff with a smile, a laugh, and a joke for everyone else. You’re strong. You are too strong to just spend your life like this.”
“Thank you, Mir,” Billy murmurs, glancing up as she nods once before heading back down the hallway she had appeared from. Billy thinks on what she’s said for a moment, taking everything she’s said for truth, and in his heart, knowing that he is that strong.
He turns and begins to walk down the hall to his room, where Dom is no doubt waiting for him. It’s true that he can be stronger than most people in a lot of situations. If he didn’t have that kind of fortitude, he wouldn’t be here today. The strange thing is that he lacks strength in the one place he needs it the most.
Billy’s not sure he has the strength to leave Dom.
He opens the door gently to find all the lights off, and the fireplace going. Dom is leaning forward in a chair to catch some of the warmth from the fire. It’s absurd and definitely something Dom would do, especially when it’s summer outside and feels closer to hell indoors. Billy closes the door behind him, making enough sound to alert Dom of his presence before heading to the chair, slowly arranging himself in Dom’s lap. He doesn’t say a word, but simply rests his head on Dom’s shoulder and wishes for them to be able to go back to what they used to be. He misses being able to talk to Dom without having a fight. He misses cracking jokes and pranks. Most of all, he misses happiness.
“Hey,” Dom murmurs, not moving at all. He seems content to just let Billy be with him.
Billy doesn’t reply. Instead, he seeks out Dom’s lips with his own, shifting and searching for that warmth he’s been missing. He presses his lips firmly against Dom’s as he clumsily stumbles to get his legs secure around Dom’s hips and finally finds the physical memory of the action and straddles him. They both hesitate at first before the sheer desire to have this again – to give in to each other – takes over. Dom tilts his head a little, slipping his tongue into Billy’s mouth. The kiss is more desperate than any physical contact of late, and it’s a frantic attempt to take back things that they’ve missed.
Billy’s hands slowly begin to roam across the breadth of Dom’s hips – fingers lingering with light touches to Dom’s skin as they kiss feverishly, Billy clinging to Dom in whatever way he can – and they can both see where this is going as the speed of their movements intensifies and the kiss grows harder, more desperate.
Billy is just about ready to let his mind drift and to forget every single thing that’s happened between them the past few weeks when Dom’s hands take him by the shoulders and hold tightly.
Dom’s hands hold him so tightly that Billy wonders if he’s expected to run off and this is Dom’s way of preventing it.
And then he lets out a cry of pain, right into Dom’s mouth.
He pulls away immediately. He doesn’t stand up, but he puts enough space between their faces for it to be uncomfortable. Dom goes pale very quickly as they both let realization set in, but Dom’s shock is quickly replaced by a look of righteous disappointment. Billy swallows hard and doesn’t say anything.
“Billy, it’s not…”
“Healthy, I get it,” Billy snaps back. He gets up off of Dom, and grabs a pillow from one of the chairs. He tosses it on the bed, and manages to do many things that are all unnecessary as he tidies up a few things on the table, digs through his bag for things he doesn’t need, and occupies himself with stupid thoughts to replace the one that is nagging him.
Can you find the strength to leave him?, it echoes in Billy’s brain.
He sits on the edge of the bed, and doesn’t move. He sits as still as he can be, and lets Dom wander over and sit beside him. Without any words spoken, Dom wraps his arms around Billy’s waist, and rests his head on Billy’s good shoulder.
They stay like that until Dom falls asleep, and Billy sets him down, tugging the covers over them and giving in to sleep as well, one arm draped around Dom. After everything that’s happened between them. He still can’t let go.
Not yet.
Orlando catches Billy’s gaze lingering on him one day while they are hanging around and waiting for everyone to return from town. Orlando has taken to absentmindedly fiddling with the telescope in the library. There’s not much point in using it on that particular day, however, as the fog has all but seeped into their blood.
“You look like you’ve got something on your mind,” Orlando says as he spins the telescope again and again, just as bored with every three hundred and sixty degree rotation. “Or, I’ve got something on my face. What’s up?”
“Just…thinking,” Billy responds with a weak smile.
“Tell me,” Orlando pleads. Billy hesitates before giving a shrug. “Oh, come on, I swear I’ll keep it a secret. What’s it about?”
“Sometimes I wonder,” Billy begins to speak absentmindedly, his eyes fixated on an object that is wholly invisible and quite far in the distance. Orlando tries for a moment to fix his eyes on the same object, but fails horribly in the process. “I wonder if you’re the one who’s luckier.”
“Me?” This takes Orlando far past taken aback. “But you have Dom.”
“It just seems better sometimes to be alone. To be without the troubles and the pain,” he speaks and begins to aimlessly wander about the room. It almost seems as though he is even trying to convince himself of his own words as he speaks. “I wonder,” he murmurs distantly before he leaves the room.
Orlando doesn’t hesitate a moment before he gives chase. Eventually he catches up to Billy, and reaches one arm out quickly – clasping onto the upper portion of Billy’s arm and he receives a great wince of discomfort. Billy immediately halts his forward pace, and turns around to glare at Orlando. The tables turn immediately, and Orlando cowers with something resembling fear.
“Billy, I forgot. I’m…”
“If you say sorry, I don’t know what I’ll do,” Billy warns quietly, one of his hands absently rubbing over the place where Orlando had grabbed at him. The fingers delicately dance over the clothing, and Orlando finds himself drawn to it still, his eyes unable to focus anywhere else. “Orlando, please…please for the love of fucking anyone, stop looking at it.”
“I can’t,” Orlando admits quietly, sighing deeply. “Billy, it’s not right,” he says emphatically, finally tearing his eyes away from Billy’s arm to look him in the eyes. They share a moment of silence in which their eyes lock, and Billy’s careful caress of his arm halts for just a moment.
“No,” Billy agrees sadly, “it’s not right at all.”
There are no more words to be spoken between the two of them, and Billy takes it as his cue to leave. He moves slowly, as though he’s afraid he’ll fall apart if he goes too quickly. Orlando is frozen to the spot and cannot move anywhere. He wishes he could turn and call for help, or chase after Billy again.
But he can’t move at all.
tbc