fic: script pages

[thepsychicclam.livejournal.com]

Title: Script Pages
Author: thepsychicclam
Pairing: Billy/Dom
Rating: PG
Summary: Dom thinks it happens like in the movies
Disclaimer: Never happened.



You stand there and don't move. Billy doesn't respond, just stares at you, mouth slightly open. The light catches in the moisture on his lips - the moisture from your lips. His mouth was warm, small, just how you'd always imagined it - late at night, sweat rolling down your face and neck, sounds lost in an empty room.

It'd taken all the courage you could muster to press your lips against his - it just felt right - and to whisper that you loved him, had always loved him, will always love him. But instead of the happy endings in your fantasies, the ones that derived from cheesy romance movies you caught on television at three am, Billy didn't fling his arms around you and declare his undying devotion. Instead, he blinked, licked his lips, and stepped back.

And you're waiting, for what you're not sure. Because as long as you two are hanging suspended in this moment, there's still a chance, a slight glimmer of hope that Billy may do the predictable thing, the kind of thing written on a script page, and tell you he loves you. So you stand there, eyes locked on his. You can hear your heart beating in your ears, see the rise and fall of Billy’s chest as he inhales, feel the tension in the air.

Billy starts to say something, opens his mouth and the words tumble out. You’re not sure if he really is tripping over his words or if your brain just isn’t processing them. They hit you slowly, like a ton of bricks each. Pounding against you. You catch bits of what Billy says, but your eyes are fixed on the loose button on his shirt. He says he doesn’t want to mess things up, best friends forever.

You don’t say a word as you turn around and walk out of the house. The New Zealand night air is warm and the wind blows softly around you. If you hadn’t just walked out on Billy, you’d turn around and tell him to come out here with you, run down the ocean and kick water at each other and lie on the sand, talking until dawn was creeping into the horizon. But you can’t run back into the house. You may never be able to run back to him again.

The sand is wet, but you fall down anyway. It’s calm out here, peaceful like no other place you’ve ever been. You might say it’s your favorite place in the world, but there’re so many other places you haven’t been. But right now it is, down the beach from Billy, under the New Zealand sky.

You draw elementary pictures in the sand, swipe your hand over it and start again. You’re waiting, but this time you know what for. It’s like in the movies. Billy runs after you, you two declare your undying love, and things are easy and beautiful. You glance behind you, half expecting Billy to be trotting up. But he isn’t.

The night crawls by and you force yourself not to look over your shoulder, every five minutes. This isn’t how it’s supposed to happen. You kissed him, told him you loved him, he’s supposed to love you back. That’s they way it happens in the movies. But you suddenly realize that people don’t go chasing after each other, the best friend doesn’t really turn into a lover, and Billy won’t ever follow you onto the sand.