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monaboyd Dec. 30th, 2005 08:06 pm)
sassywitch.livejournal.com posting in monaboyd Dec. 30th, 2005 08:06 pm)Title: Tonight I'm Gonna Cry
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sassywitch
Fandom: LOTRPS
Characters: Monaboyd
Word Count: 970
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Regret is a miserable and unforgiving partner
Disclaimer: Don't own them or they'd be far happier and in closer proximity
Author's Notes: Many thanks to the magnificentdylan_dufresne for giving this a look over for me. Thanks eternally babe. This is a little peice inspired by the song Tonight I'm gonna cry by Keith Urban. For those interested here's a link to the song. http://s56.yousendit.com/d.aspx?id=217ELUPE63QRX3UW9F9NCME949
Cold nights were always the worst. Nights where the temperature dropped low and the snow flurries mounted high against the sides of his little house were made to steal Billy’s sanity. He had stood for what seemed like hours at the window in his living room, watching the tiny perfect little snowflakes snicking insistently against the glass as the wind pushed it against the house. It would be madness to leave the house, he knew that, but still he stood here with his snow jacket clasped in a white knuckled grip begging silently for a break in the weather. Just enough of a break so he could escape his lonely, solitary house. He needed people, company, and conversation, anything to stop his memories from overtaking his mind.
The dim grey light finally faded and his face reflected back at him in the glass. The black velvety darkness scattered with shards of white snowflakes turning his frosty windows into a mirror of his sadness and desperation. Sighing deeply he tossed his down filled green jacket onto the window seat and turned back to the room behind him.
Moving slowly he lifted another log onto the cheery fire already crackling merrily in the fireplace. Lifting his phone from the end table beside his sofa, he waited for the dial tone, his fingers poised to dial a familiar number. Pressing the button several times he dropped the phone back onto its cradle, realizing that the storm had taken his last lifeline and he was truly alone.
Before New Zealand he had loved solitary nights at home. A good book and better whisky and he was a happy man. Now time spent alone with his thoughts were enough to steal the little sanity he had left.
He sighed again. A heartfelt exhalation of breath that seemed to come from his toes and clutch at his heart as he struggled against his thoughts and memories. Giving in to the overwhelming need to sink into the pity that enshrouded his heart because of unforgivable decisions, he made the same decision he made on nights filled with regret.
Moving through to his kitchen, he returned with a bottle of whisky and a shot glass, which he immediately left on the coffee table. Twisting open the lid of the whisky, he pressed the bottle to his lips as he reached across to grab his remote and flicked the television on. Switching channels quickly, it appeared even the Gods of network television had deserted him this night. Swigging on the bottle again he lifted another remote and within minutes a DVD was playing across his screen.
His voice caught in his throat as he watched the screen intently. The subject of his pain hung from a tree, two subsidiary characters desperately trying to save his life as Billy watched, tears welling in his eyes, his own hand lifting to rub at his neck again. Returning to the start of the scene he watched it over and over again, Dom’s character’s near death somehow significant to the death of what could have been their life together, in Billy’s mind. The more he watched it, the harder it was to see. Hot tears welled in his eyes as he played memories over and over inside his head, his eyes often drawn to the large leatherbound photo album that sat on the middle of the coffee table.
His fingers itched to open the leather volume, to wallow in the memories that he had intentionally put an end to. It had been too long since he had allowed himself the physical contact with the only person he would ever truly love. Too long since simple touches and genuine affection had taken the edge of the constant craving he had endured for what seemed to be a lifetime.
Throwing the remote onto the couch, he lifted a smaller control and as he pressed a button, the mournful strains of a pain filled country song filled the room. Pressing the neck of the now half full whisky bottle against his lips again, he leaned forward and opened the leather cover that held the source of his anguish. Calloused fingertips traced across the smiling face that filled the entire first page of the album, as his tears began to fall.
As each page turns, Billy falls deeper into his home made pit of self loathing and regrets. And then he reaches that picture. The one that showed the world at large the feelings he couldn’t hide. The picture that Dom had used against him in a thousand ways to convince him that they could be together and not be persecuted in the myriad of ways that Billy imagined. The picture that showed Dom the levels of Billy’s love and self control.
If he had loved Dom with any less than all of his heart, the entire world would have seen their first kiss in that photo, but he couldn’t do that. Dom’s star was burning bright, he couldn’t and wouldn’t let innuendo and rumours harm a promising career. Instead he took himself away to Scotland and let infrequent publicity events and regular phone calls rule his contact with his love.
He slipped the photo from it’s page and let his fingertips trace across Dom’s face. His Dommeh had never had issue with showing the world how he felt about him, but Billy knew that one of them had to be strong enough for the both of them. He himself had steadfastly abstained from any function or appearance since the Berlin red carpet that would give them such proximity again, as his sanity couldn’t afford it. He could barely afford the memories that Berlin provoked.
Draining the last of the liquid from the bottle, he let it drop to the floor. Curling in on himself, he pressed the photo against his trembling chest as he let his tears overwhelm him.
Don’t Shut Me Out
Author:
sassywitchFandom: LOTRPS
Characters: Monaboyd
Word Count: 970
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Regret is a miserable and unforgiving partner
Disclaimer: Don't own them or they'd be far happier and in closer proximity
Author's Notes: Many thanks to the magnificent
dylan_dufresne for giving this a look over for me. Thanks eternally babe. This is a little peice inspired by the song Tonight I'm gonna cry by Keith Urban. For those interested here's a link to the song. http://s56.yousendit.com/d.aspx?id=217ELUPE63QRX3UW9F9NCME949Cold nights were always the worst. Nights where the temperature dropped low and the snow flurries mounted high against the sides of his little house were made to steal Billy’s sanity. He had stood for what seemed like hours at the window in his living room, watching the tiny perfect little snowflakes snicking insistently against the glass as the wind pushed it against the house. It would be madness to leave the house, he knew that, but still he stood here with his snow jacket clasped in a white knuckled grip begging silently for a break in the weather. Just enough of a break so he could escape his lonely, solitary house. He needed people, company, and conversation, anything to stop his memories from overtaking his mind.
The dim grey light finally faded and his face reflected back at him in the glass. The black velvety darkness scattered with shards of white snowflakes turning his frosty windows into a mirror of his sadness and desperation. Sighing deeply he tossed his down filled green jacket onto the window seat and turned back to the room behind him.
Moving slowly he lifted another log onto the cheery fire already crackling merrily in the fireplace. Lifting his phone from the end table beside his sofa, he waited for the dial tone, his fingers poised to dial a familiar number. Pressing the button several times he dropped the phone back onto its cradle, realizing that the storm had taken his last lifeline and he was truly alone.
Before New Zealand he had loved solitary nights at home. A good book and better whisky and he was a happy man. Now time spent alone with his thoughts were enough to steal the little sanity he had left.
He sighed again. A heartfelt exhalation of breath that seemed to come from his toes and clutch at his heart as he struggled against his thoughts and memories. Giving in to the overwhelming need to sink into the pity that enshrouded his heart because of unforgivable decisions, he made the same decision he made on nights filled with regret.
Moving through to his kitchen, he returned with a bottle of whisky and a shot glass, which he immediately left on the coffee table. Twisting open the lid of the whisky, he pressed the bottle to his lips as he reached across to grab his remote and flicked the television on. Switching channels quickly, it appeared even the Gods of network television had deserted him this night. Swigging on the bottle again he lifted another remote and within minutes a DVD was playing across his screen.
His voice caught in his throat as he watched the screen intently. The subject of his pain hung from a tree, two subsidiary characters desperately trying to save his life as Billy watched, tears welling in his eyes, his own hand lifting to rub at his neck again. Returning to the start of the scene he watched it over and over again, Dom’s character’s near death somehow significant to the death of what could have been their life together, in Billy’s mind. The more he watched it, the harder it was to see. Hot tears welled in his eyes as he played memories over and over inside his head, his eyes often drawn to the large leatherbound photo album that sat on the middle of the coffee table.
His fingers itched to open the leather volume, to wallow in the memories that he had intentionally put an end to. It had been too long since he had allowed himself the physical contact with the only person he would ever truly love. Too long since simple touches and genuine affection had taken the edge of the constant craving he had endured for what seemed to be a lifetime.
Throwing the remote onto the couch, he lifted a smaller control and as he pressed a button, the mournful strains of a pain filled country song filled the room. Pressing the neck of the now half full whisky bottle against his lips again, he leaned forward and opened the leather cover that held the source of his anguish. Calloused fingertips traced across the smiling face that filled the entire first page of the album, as his tears began to fall.
As each page turns, Billy falls deeper into his home made pit of self loathing and regrets. And then he reaches that picture. The one that showed the world at large the feelings he couldn’t hide. The picture that Dom had used against him in a thousand ways to convince him that they could be together and not be persecuted in the myriad of ways that Billy imagined. The picture that showed Dom the levels of Billy’s love and self control.
If he had loved Dom with any less than all of his heart, the entire world would have seen their first kiss in that photo, but he couldn’t do that. Dom’s star was burning bright, he couldn’t and wouldn’t let innuendo and rumours harm a promising career. Instead he took himself away to Scotland and let infrequent publicity events and regular phone calls rule his contact with his love.
He slipped the photo from it’s page and let his fingertips trace across Dom’s face. His Dommeh had never had issue with showing the world how he felt about him, but Billy knew that one of them had to be strong enough for the both of them. He himself had steadfastly abstained from any function or appearance since the Berlin red carpet that would give them such proximity again, as his sanity couldn’t afford it. He could barely afford the memories that Berlin provoked.
Draining the last of the liquid from the bottle, he let it drop to the floor. Curling in on himself, he pressed the photo against his trembling chest as he let his tears overwhelm him.
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From:
no subject
that was awesome but not a bedtime story. lol
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Glad you liked it hon.
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will there be more of this, love? this would make a great beginning to a series. hint, hint ;P
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Glad you're enjoying it.
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....
Wow when you do angst, you do it right.
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I'm not going to cry. I'm not going to cry.
*wells up*
Aw, dammit. It hurt just as much to read it the second time. And now I have that song in my head.
*reaches for kleenex*
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I promise I'll fix them eventually.
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Poor
stupidBilly. I understand why he's doing it, but that still doesn't make it the right thing to do.I'm so happy about this fic! You should be very proud of yourself. I shall have to cut back our writing time so that you have time to do more of this!!
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He's not stupid hon he just loves his dommeh.
Thanks honey, but we don't need to cut back, I just needed motivation.
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You're right, he's not stupid. Hard-headed and stubborn is more like it.
Well, all these wonderful comments should motivate you enough :)
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