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fellowshippers2004-08-03 09:24 pm
glass-moment.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2004-08-03 09:24 pm
(no subject)
Title: This Time
Rating: PG
Pairing: Billy/Dom, Billy/Ali (sort of both implied. ish.)
Dom glared angrily at the empty pages of his journal. He'd thought that maybe if he wrote everything down he could stop thinking about it. Instead, he'd spent the last twenty minutes staring into space, screaming in his head the way he hadn't been able to in real life. He tossed the journal aside. Obviously, he wasn't going to be able to write about this.
A vague feeling pervaded his misery. He was...hungry, in a very distant way. He shuffled over to the fridge and looked through it. It was something to do, at least, and he knew he should eat. After a minute of blank staring (would he ever be able to do anything again without getting lost in painful memory?) he selected leftover tuna, grabbing a fork and eating it out of the container. Eating like that always made him feel like a pregnant woman with a carton of chocolate ice cream and a spoon. He laughed at the image, but the sound died somewhere between his stomach and his mouth.
He could never eat of a dish again if he didn't want to, actually. It was odd to think of the kitchen as his, not theirs: Billy had been staying with him for three weeks before the night he broke the news about Ali. Hell, he could spit in the food now, if he felt like it. His stomach did a nauseous roll. Okay, maybe not. Rather than take a chance with his already queasy stomach, he left the tuna on the counter and went outside.
The air outside was cool and dark- for LA, at least. Dom sat on the deck, wondering if he was the only person in the world whose emotions actually had a profound affect on his physical well-being. Sure, he knew people who would cease to shower or sleep or eat in the face of tragedy, but that was different. He'd never heard of anyone else who'd spent half an hour dry heaving over the toilet once the contents of his stomach were gone after watching his boyfriend walk out the door without a look back.
Dom reached for his mobile and dialed without even looking, only pausing slightly with the instinct to figure out a time difference that didn't exist. It rang once, twice, three times, and was cut off.
"Hello?"
"Hey Lij." His voice sounded hoarse and raspy, as if his mental tirades had all been out loud.
"Dom! Thank god you called! I was getting really worried….I mean, I heard-"
Dom cut him off before he had a chance to stumble over his sympathies.
"Look, I had this really great idea that I wanted to run by someone. So....people are addicted to horror and tragedy, right? You know, with how the newspapers and the telly are always about who killed who or raped who or tortured who and where thousands of people are dying and all? Well, why hasn't anyone written a book where the ending is horribly unhappy? I mean, with the public's love of violence and tragedy, no one would be able to stay away! I think I'll write a novel that ends with something really awful happening to the main character. I'll make millions!"
"It's that bad?"
There was a pause. Dom fought to keep his voice from shaking.
"He's not coming back this time."
Rating: PG
Pairing: Billy/Dom, Billy/Ali (sort of both implied. ish.)
Dom glared angrily at the empty pages of his journal. He'd thought that maybe if he wrote everything down he could stop thinking about it. Instead, he'd spent the last twenty minutes staring into space, screaming in his head the way he hadn't been able to in real life. He tossed the journal aside. Obviously, he wasn't going to be able to write about this.
A vague feeling pervaded his misery. He was...hungry, in a very distant way. He shuffled over to the fridge and looked through it. It was something to do, at least, and he knew he should eat. After a minute of blank staring (would he ever be able to do anything again without getting lost in painful memory?) he selected leftover tuna, grabbing a fork and eating it out of the container. Eating like that always made him feel like a pregnant woman with a carton of chocolate ice cream and a spoon. He laughed at the image, but the sound died somewhere between his stomach and his mouth.
He could never eat of a dish again if he didn't want to, actually. It was odd to think of the kitchen as his, not theirs: Billy had been staying with him for three weeks before the night he broke the news about Ali. Hell, he could spit in the food now, if he felt like it. His stomach did a nauseous roll. Okay, maybe not. Rather than take a chance with his already queasy stomach, he left the tuna on the counter and went outside.
The air outside was cool and dark- for LA, at least. Dom sat on the deck, wondering if he was the only person in the world whose emotions actually had a profound affect on his physical well-being. Sure, he knew people who would cease to shower or sleep or eat in the face of tragedy, but that was different. He'd never heard of anyone else who'd spent half an hour dry heaving over the toilet once the contents of his stomach were gone after watching his boyfriend walk out the door without a look back.
Dom reached for his mobile and dialed without even looking, only pausing slightly with the instinct to figure out a time difference that didn't exist. It rang once, twice, three times, and was cut off.
"Hello?"
"Hey Lij." His voice sounded hoarse and raspy, as if his mental tirades had all been out loud.
"Dom! Thank god you called! I was getting really worried….I mean, I heard-"
Dom cut him off before he had a chance to stumble over his sympathies.
"Look, I had this really great idea that I wanted to run by someone. So....people are addicted to horror and tragedy, right? You know, with how the newspapers and the telly are always about who killed who or raped who or tortured who and where thousands of people are dying and all? Well, why hasn't anyone written a book where the ending is horribly unhappy? I mean, with the public's love of violence and tragedy, no one would be able to stay away! I think I'll write a novel that ends with something really awful happening to the main character. I'll make millions!"
"It's that bad?"
There was a pause. Dom fought to keep his voice from shaking.
"He's not coming back this time."
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