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fellowshippers2004-03-21 09:24 pm
seeing-stars.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2004-03-21 09:24 pm
Ficcy...
Angsty fluff. Hehe. Enjoy.
Rating: Pg-13 for swearing (bad Dom!)
Pairing: Domlijah
Title:
Storm.
I sit on the window seat and stare out at the rain. It’s coming down in diagonal sheets, and it’s so heavy that I can barely see across the road. The sky’s as dark as night, even though it’s only 3 in the afternoon. The wind howls down the chimney and the thunder roars as lightening splits the black sky into pieces. The weather transfixes me, but I’m not enjoying any of it like I usually would. I just sit there, hugging my knees.
It’s not the same without you here.
When I was young
I never needed anyone…
Another fork of lightening illuminates everything. I can remember one time when we sat here watching a storm just like this one together. I remember how you sat there like an excited child, your face turned to the sky and your eyes wider than ever. We both love storms. Almost as much as we loved each other.
Loved. Not love. Loved. Past tense. Of course, I still love you, but you don’t love me anymore. Sometime I wonder if you ever loved me at all.
…and making love was just for fun
those days are gone…
Memories suck. I swing my legs off the window seat and go over to the telephone. I pick it up, then pause. Who am I going to call? Not you of course. Billy? He’s on a film location; it’ll be too expensive. Viggo? Same. Orlando?
I slam the phone down. The mere thought of his name makes my blood boil with jealousy. Childish, I know.
Living alone
I think of all the friends I’ve known…
Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I pick up the phone and slowly dial Billy’s number. I need to hear that calming, Scottish voice. He always makes me feel better. He was there when you…
‘Hello?’ Billy sounds tired.
‘Hey Bill, it’s me.’
‘Dom, hi! Sorry, I only just got up; I’m a bit groggy. How are you, mate?’ he says, perking up.
‘I, uh…’ I pause, then go into a long spiel about you. I barely pause for breath and I don’t realise until I stop talking that I’m crying. I don’t bother to wipe the tears away. They just stay there, soaking my skin. My eyes burn.
‘Oh, Dom…’ Billy says softly. ‘Elijah’s really fucked you up, hasn’t he?’
I sniff.
‘Look, Dommie, I gotta go, but I’ll call later to have another chat. Ok?’
‘Ok. Bye, Bill.’
‘Bye Dom.’
We hang up and I go back to the window feeling a little better. The storm’s still raging. My bad mood starts to sink over me again, however, as I think about how right Billy was – you have fucked me up, bad. Most people get over it when their lover cheats on them, but not me. I still miss you.
All by myself
Don’t wanna be
All by myself
Anymore…
The phone rings and I jump so much that I fall off the window seat. Scrambling to my feet, I run to the phone and pick it up – maybe Billy’s got the day off or something and is calling for that chat.
‘Billy?’ I say hopefully. There’s no answer. ‘Hello?’
Click. Dial tone. I frown at the receiver then do 1471. Withheld bloody number. I hate it when that happens. Replacing the receiver, I prepare to go back to brooding. I’m so pathetic. Six months has passed since that day, and I’m still not over you. Maybe whoever was just calling knew that and was trying to wind me up.
Great. I’m paranoid as well as pathetic.
Hard to be sure
Sometimes I feel so insecure
And love so distant and obscure
Remains the cure…
On the window seat again. Storm’s even worse now, if that’s possible. I can barely see my car on my drive. Stupid bloody English weather.
A fork of lightening makes everything light up, and I notice something very, very strange. There’s someone sat on the wall at the bottom of my drive. They’re hunched up and I can’t tell whether they’re male or female.
The person turns and glances at my house. It’s too dark outside to make out any of their features. They stand up and start to walk up my drive. I’m completely confused now. Why are they coming up my drive? And couldn’t they have waited until they weren’t going to get pneumonia?
Lightening flash. Thunder clap. All up and down my street, lights flicker and go out, including mine. I feel my way to the door. Where’s the handle gone? Ah, there. I open the door and am immediately hit by a wave of wind and rain.
‘Come in!’ I bellow over the noise to the figure. They do as they’re told. I fight the door closed and shake water off my face.
‘You must be insane, coming out in this weather!’ I laugh, turning to my visitor. They have their back to me and seem to be entranced by the water that’s dripping from them and making a pool at their feet.
‘Come through to the living room,’ I say. I don’t know why I’m being so hospitable to this silent stranger – I must be so desperate for company that I’ll talk to anyone.
‘So, what can I do for you?’ I say as I chuck the person a towel that had been drying on the radiator.
The person doesn’t answer, just turns away from me and starts drying their hair. I frown, then shrug and go upstairs for some dry clothes. The person is a little shorter than me, but my clothes should fit them.
As I’m rooting through my wardrobe for something old, I’m reminded with a jolt of the time you got caught in a storm like this, over in a LA, and I lent you some of my clothes. Of course, the clothes didn’t stay on long, but… I push the memory aside and pick my way carefully back downstairs.
The visitor has taken off their sodden hoodie and put it on the radiator. I can tell now that it’s a bloke. He’s about the same body frame as you. I feel another pang.
‘Here, I’ve got you some clothes,’ I say, trying to ignore how my heart’s constricting. He nods and I put the clothes on my sofa for him. He pulls his T-shirt up over his head just as the lightening flashes again, and I realise with embarrassment that I’m staring at his body. But then in the light, I also notice something chilling familiar on his body – a tattoo just above his right hip. I gasp and stagger backwards, sudden tears stinging my eyes.
‘What the fuck are you doing here?’ I choke.
No reply. Please let me have been wrong. Please let it just have been a figment of my Elijah-starved imagination.
The lights flicker back on, and my worst fears are confirmed. My visitor is the person who’s been slowly killing me for the past six months.
You’re stood in my living room, looking at me with those big blue eyes, begging in silence for forgiveness.
‘What the fuck are you doing here?’ I repeat in a whisper. You bow your head and pull on my clothes. MY clothes. How many times have you done that before? Lots. But now, I don’t want you to. I want you to leave. Only, I don’t. I want you to stay.
‘Dom…’ you begin. Your voice in thick, like you’re trying not to cry. ‘Dom, I’m so sorry. I – I never meant to hurt you. I swear. It’s just…’ you trail off, and my anger flares.
‘Never meant to hurt me? Elijah, you ran off with Orlando! Worse than that, you two-timed me with him when I wasn’t even in the country! And now you just turn up and expect me to forgive you?’ I yell. All the frustration that’s been building up since I caught you and Orlando sleeping together in my bed in boiling up inside me, waiting to explode.
‘I don’t expect you to forgive me,’ you mumble. ‘I just want to tell you the whole story.’
‘I don’t want to hear it,’ I snap.
‘I missed you when you went to visit Billy,’ you begin. I feel like putting my hands over my ears and going ‘lalalala’ but I don’t. I can’t, because as much as I don’t want to hear, I know I need to.
‘Then I found out Orli was staying near here, so we went out for a drink. I had a few too many, and we ended up kissing. We both felt so bad, but then it happened again. I could have killed myself for being unfaithful to you.’ I realise that you’re crying, but I don’t move to you like I would have before. You carry on talking with a sniff.
‘So then, one night, we ended up in bed together. He was like my substitute for you. I called out your name every time we slept together. And then you came back early and caught us together, and it was like dying. I realised how stupid I’d been. Orli hated himself, because he should have stopped me going back, but he wanted me and selfishness got in his way. And … not that it’ll make any difference, but I haven’t slept with him since you found us together.’
My heart’s pounding in my throat. My anger’s melted away. I love you so much, but at the same time, I can’t just pretend none of this happened.
All by myself
Don’t wanna be
All by myself
Anymore…
‘Well, I should go…’ you say. I bite my lip. Should I do something? Or just stand there and watch you walk out of my life – probably forever. Tears burn my eyeballs and the room blurs. You start to walk towards the door.
My body suddenly has a mind of its own. My feet eat up the space between us, my hands grab you and I kiss you full on the lips. I’m not letting go any time soon, either. Water from your hair runs down my face and mingles with my tears. Your wet skin has soaked the T-shirt I gave you.
‘Oh, Dom…’ you sob against my lips.
‘Lij…’ I sob in reply. I pull you closer and rest my head on your shoulder. Your fingers grip my T-shirt so hard I’m surprised it’s not ripping.
‘I’ll make it up to you, Sblomie, I promise,’ you sniff.
‘I know, Lighe.’ I kiss you neck and hug you tighter. It’s so comforting using those nicknames again.
‘I love you. So, so much.’
‘I love you too.’
Everything in the world seems to suddenly work, as we stand there hugging each other in my living room. Even the storm’s calming down.
crossposted to My journal, Domlijah and fellow_shippers.
Rating: Pg-13 for swearing (bad Dom!)
Pairing: Domlijah
Title:
Storm.
I sit on the window seat and stare out at the rain. It’s coming down in diagonal sheets, and it’s so heavy that I can barely see across the road. The sky’s as dark as night, even though it’s only 3 in the afternoon. The wind howls down the chimney and the thunder roars as lightening splits the black sky into pieces. The weather transfixes me, but I’m not enjoying any of it like I usually would. I just sit there, hugging my knees.
It’s not the same without you here.
When I was young
I never needed anyone…
Another fork of lightening illuminates everything. I can remember one time when we sat here watching a storm just like this one together. I remember how you sat there like an excited child, your face turned to the sky and your eyes wider than ever. We both love storms. Almost as much as we loved each other.
Loved. Not love. Loved. Past tense. Of course, I still love you, but you don’t love me anymore. Sometime I wonder if you ever loved me at all.
…and making love was just for fun
those days are gone…
Memories suck. I swing my legs off the window seat and go over to the telephone. I pick it up, then pause. Who am I going to call? Not you of course. Billy? He’s on a film location; it’ll be too expensive. Viggo? Same. Orlando?
I slam the phone down. The mere thought of his name makes my blood boil with jealousy. Childish, I know.
Living alone
I think of all the friends I’ve known…
Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I pick up the phone and slowly dial Billy’s number. I need to hear that calming, Scottish voice. He always makes me feel better. He was there when you…
‘Hello?’ Billy sounds tired.
‘Hey Bill, it’s me.’
‘Dom, hi! Sorry, I only just got up; I’m a bit groggy. How are you, mate?’ he says, perking up.
‘I, uh…’ I pause, then go into a long spiel about you. I barely pause for breath and I don’t realise until I stop talking that I’m crying. I don’t bother to wipe the tears away. They just stay there, soaking my skin. My eyes burn.
‘Oh, Dom…’ Billy says softly. ‘Elijah’s really fucked you up, hasn’t he?’
I sniff.
‘Look, Dommie, I gotta go, but I’ll call later to have another chat. Ok?’
‘Ok. Bye, Bill.’
‘Bye Dom.’
We hang up and I go back to the window feeling a little better. The storm’s still raging. My bad mood starts to sink over me again, however, as I think about how right Billy was – you have fucked me up, bad. Most people get over it when their lover cheats on them, but not me. I still miss you.
All by myself
Don’t wanna be
All by myself
Anymore…
The phone rings and I jump so much that I fall off the window seat. Scrambling to my feet, I run to the phone and pick it up – maybe Billy’s got the day off or something and is calling for that chat.
‘Billy?’ I say hopefully. There’s no answer. ‘Hello?’
Click. Dial tone. I frown at the receiver then do 1471. Withheld bloody number. I hate it when that happens. Replacing the receiver, I prepare to go back to brooding. I’m so pathetic. Six months has passed since that day, and I’m still not over you. Maybe whoever was just calling knew that and was trying to wind me up.
Great. I’m paranoid as well as pathetic.
Hard to be sure
Sometimes I feel so insecure
And love so distant and obscure
Remains the cure…
On the window seat again. Storm’s even worse now, if that’s possible. I can barely see my car on my drive. Stupid bloody English weather.
A fork of lightening makes everything light up, and I notice something very, very strange. There’s someone sat on the wall at the bottom of my drive. They’re hunched up and I can’t tell whether they’re male or female.
The person turns and glances at my house. It’s too dark outside to make out any of their features. They stand up and start to walk up my drive. I’m completely confused now. Why are they coming up my drive? And couldn’t they have waited until they weren’t going to get pneumonia?
Lightening flash. Thunder clap. All up and down my street, lights flicker and go out, including mine. I feel my way to the door. Where’s the handle gone? Ah, there. I open the door and am immediately hit by a wave of wind and rain.
‘Come in!’ I bellow over the noise to the figure. They do as they’re told. I fight the door closed and shake water off my face.
‘You must be insane, coming out in this weather!’ I laugh, turning to my visitor. They have their back to me and seem to be entranced by the water that’s dripping from them and making a pool at their feet.
‘Come through to the living room,’ I say. I don’t know why I’m being so hospitable to this silent stranger – I must be so desperate for company that I’ll talk to anyone.
‘So, what can I do for you?’ I say as I chuck the person a towel that had been drying on the radiator.
The person doesn’t answer, just turns away from me and starts drying their hair. I frown, then shrug and go upstairs for some dry clothes. The person is a little shorter than me, but my clothes should fit them.
As I’m rooting through my wardrobe for something old, I’m reminded with a jolt of the time you got caught in a storm like this, over in a LA, and I lent you some of my clothes. Of course, the clothes didn’t stay on long, but… I push the memory aside and pick my way carefully back downstairs.
The visitor has taken off their sodden hoodie and put it on the radiator. I can tell now that it’s a bloke. He’s about the same body frame as you. I feel another pang.
‘Here, I’ve got you some clothes,’ I say, trying to ignore how my heart’s constricting. He nods and I put the clothes on my sofa for him. He pulls his T-shirt up over his head just as the lightening flashes again, and I realise with embarrassment that I’m staring at his body. But then in the light, I also notice something chilling familiar on his body – a tattoo just above his right hip. I gasp and stagger backwards, sudden tears stinging my eyes.
‘What the fuck are you doing here?’ I choke.
No reply. Please let me have been wrong. Please let it just have been a figment of my Elijah-starved imagination.
The lights flicker back on, and my worst fears are confirmed. My visitor is the person who’s been slowly killing me for the past six months.
You’re stood in my living room, looking at me with those big blue eyes, begging in silence for forgiveness.
‘What the fuck are you doing here?’ I repeat in a whisper. You bow your head and pull on my clothes. MY clothes. How many times have you done that before? Lots. But now, I don’t want you to. I want you to leave. Only, I don’t. I want you to stay.
‘Dom…’ you begin. Your voice in thick, like you’re trying not to cry. ‘Dom, I’m so sorry. I – I never meant to hurt you. I swear. It’s just…’ you trail off, and my anger flares.
‘Never meant to hurt me? Elijah, you ran off with Orlando! Worse than that, you two-timed me with him when I wasn’t even in the country! And now you just turn up and expect me to forgive you?’ I yell. All the frustration that’s been building up since I caught you and Orlando sleeping together in my bed in boiling up inside me, waiting to explode.
‘I don’t expect you to forgive me,’ you mumble. ‘I just want to tell you the whole story.’
‘I don’t want to hear it,’ I snap.
‘I missed you when you went to visit Billy,’ you begin. I feel like putting my hands over my ears and going ‘lalalala’ but I don’t. I can’t, because as much as I don’t want to hear, I know I need to.
‘Then I found out Orli was staying near here, so we went out for a drink. I had a few too many, and we ended up kissing. We both felt so bad, but then it happened again. I could have killed myself for being unfaithful to you.’ I realise that you’re crying, but I don’t move to you like I would have before. You carry on talking with a sniff.
‘So then, one night, we ended up in bed together. He was like my substitute for you. I called out your name every time we slept together. And then you came back early and caught us together, and it was like dying. I realised how stupid I’d been. Orli hated himself, because he should have stopped me going back, but he wanted me and selfishness got in his way. And … not that it’ll make any difference, but I haven’t slept with him since you found us together.’
My heart’s pounding in my throat. My anger’s melted away. I love you so much, but at the same time, I can’t just pretend none of this happened.
All by myself
Don’t wanna be
All by myself
Anymore…
‘Well, I should go…’ you say. I bite my lip. Should I do something? Or just stand there and watch you walk out of my life – probably forever. Tears burn my eyeballs and the room blurs. You start to walk towards the door.
My body suddenly has a mind of its own. My feet eat up the space between us, my hands grab you and I kiss you full on the lips. I’m not letting go any time soon, either. Water from your hair runs down my face and mingles with my tears. Your wet skin has soaked the T-shirt I gave you.
‘Oh, Dom…’ you sob against my lips.
‘Lij…’ I sob in reply. I pull you closer and rest my head on your shoulder. Your fingers grip my T-shirt so hard I’m surprised it’s not ripping.
‘I’ll make it up to you, Sblomie, I promise,’ you sniff.
‘I know, Lighe.’ I kiss you neck and hug you tighter. It’s so comforting using those nicknames again.
‘I love you. So, so much.’
‘I love you too.’
Everything in the world seems to suddenly work, as we stand there hugging each other in my living room. Even the storm’s calming down.
crossposted to My journal, Domlijah and fellow_shippers.