monaboyd | Forgive Me

Title: Forgive Me - 7/8
Author:

dylan_dufresne
Pairing: BB/DM
Rating: Hard R
Feedback: Would be greatly appreciated as it’s my drug of choice. Thank you for holding my hand through this one

frojane.
Disclaimer: Not at all true in reality.
WARNING: Dark subject matter. Dealing with suicide. You have been warned. I also suggest kleenex.
Previous (unrelated) Parts: 1-Fight | 2-Ending | 3-Accident | 4-Timing | 5-Mistake | 6-Deny

7 - Weak

Cracking open one bloodshot eye and then the other, Dom struggles to focus so he can read the glowing red numbers on the digital clock sitting on the nightstand. The smell of smoke, sweat and stale beer hangs heavily in the air as Dom shifts and idly wonders if he should’ve taken a shower when he stumbled home from the club. His lips are chapped, the tender skin cracked, his throat raw from chain smoking and the stunning amount of alcohol he ingested, not to mention the subsequent praying to the porcelain God for over an hour as his stomach angrily rebelled at the abuse. These days, his stomach doesn’t like to hold much of anything down. The weight he’s lost is evidence of that fact.

Sprawled naked on his belly, body chilled and damp from the salty moisture that has cooled on his skin, Dom shakes his head and pushes himself up onto his elbows. Coverlet sliding down to his narrow waist, Dom squints and finally makes out the numbers on the clock.

5:36

A quick glance at the dark edge of the window, covered with a heavy blind to block out any light, confirms that it’s just after half five in the morning. He’s only been asleep for a few hours. Asleep, but not really resting. Sighing heavily, Dom lays back down on the mattress and closes his eyes, but sleep flatly refuses to wrap him up in its arms. Truthfully, he hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in months. Not since he left Manchester and moved to Los Angeles. Hollywood. Chasing a dream. Trying to leave a different dream behind, the one dying, ever so slowly and painfully.

Looking over at the nightstand again, Dom’s eyes fall on the white cordless phone resting on it’s side. The keypad is illuminated by the faint red light, the numbers daring Dom to press them, in a specific pattern, of course. Blinking and shifting his gaze slightly, Dom looks at the clock again.

5:37

Another minute that he’s lived without Billy. Another minute he’s managed to keep breathing, despite the nearly unbearable weight on his chest, and the nagging ache in his belly. It hurts, all the time. Every minute of every single day. There’s no escape from it, no matter what he does. He’s tried to fill the emptiness with all sorts of things, whatever he could think of. Lately it’s been clubs, one after another. It’s pointless, because Dom knows before he leaves the flat, before he walks through the front door that he won’t find what he’s looking for there. What he really needs. The one thing. It doesn’t matter how much he drinks or how many strangers he dances with, he’s still lost and alone. His heart is still broken, and only one person can fix it.

Blinking rapidly to force back the tears in his exhausted eyes, Dom realizes that he’s now clutching the phone with both hands, pressing a familiar series of numbers. It’s past half one in the afternoon in Scotland, so Billy won’t be home. He’ll be at the theatre, rehearsing for his new play, the one Lij mentioned accidentally last week in his phone message. The call that Dom, to his everlasting shame, deliberately avoided when he saw the name on the Caller ID. He just wants to be left alone, so he can avoid the painful questions that he doesn’t want to answer.

Pressing the phone to his ear, Dom lets the gloriously soothing, heavily accented lilt flow over his body like a lover’s tender caress, taking away the ache for a few precious seconds and letting him take in a deep breath. Hanging up before the answering machine flips over to record, Dom immediately presses redial, and listens again. And again. And again.

This is Billy. You know what to do.

The same eight words, spoken over and over, with an intoxicating, Scottish brogue, giving Dom a much needed escape from the harshness of his reality. He can pretend that Billy is whispering seductively in his ear, small, nimble fingers petting his tummy, lovely cherubic lips kissing and nibbling the smooth column of his neck, rousing Dom from exhausted sleep so their bodies can slide together intimately again. For a few moments, Dom can imagine them making love passionately, every single day, devoted to each other. It’s a wonderful thought, but sadly, it’s only a dream.

Suddenly, while listening to the outgoing message for the eighth or ninth time, Dom wonders if Billy has Caller ID. If the answer is yes, he’ll know that Dom was calling repeatedly. Cheeks flaming with humiliation and stomach twisting, Dom hangs up the phone as he shoves back the coverlet and stumbles unsteadily over to the loo. The intense pain in his belly is back, worse than ever, and now he’s in desperate search of something to ease the throbbing pain in his head that’s suddenly developed with a vengeance.

Flipping on the light, Dom winces for a moment at the brightness and chill to his feet, and then freezes when he catches his reflection in the mirror. It’s only then that he realizes that he’s still clutching the phone to his chest like a lifeline. Eyes flat with deep, bruising shadows beneath, Dom shoves his free hand through his tangled and stringy hair to draw it off his wan face. It doesn’t come a huge surprise that Dom looks about as good as he feels. All he needs is some rest, a good night’s sleep. He’s be okay, if he can just escape for a few hours, to place where it doesn’t hurt. Sure. Right. If only it were that easy to find some peace.

Opening the medicine cabinet, Dom starts to reach for the half empty bottle of Paracetamol, but changes his mind when he spots the nearly full bottle of sleeping tablets on the shelf above. The idea of falling into the blackness, as well as escaping the pain, pulls at Dom fiercely, reaching inside, grabbing hold and twisting until he’s clutching at the basin, gasping for breath. It’s just so fucking hard, getting through each day. The worst part is that it’s not getting better, it’s only getting worse. Every single day Dom sinks lower into the darkness, feeling more and more helpless and alone. Everyone in the Fellowship is doing well, except him, so it must be something he’s done or something he’s doing to make this happen. It’s all his fault. He’s being punished for something, perhaps. For what? For loving someone who doesn’t love him back? For falling for his very best mate and staying silent for seemingly endless months? Perhaps.

Laying the phone on the countertop next to the basin, Dom opens the bottle of sleeping tablets, taps two into the palm of his hand and stares at them for a long, quiet moment. With the tip of his finger, he turns them over, examining them closely, exploring their shape and texture. Idly, Dom tilts his head to one side and wonders why the manufacturer chose to color them a cheerful, robin’s egg blue. Why not choose something darker, to signify sleeping? When his vision blurs, Dom realizes that his bleary eyes are full of tears. Brushing the dampness away with the back of his hand, Dom picks up the phone again, presses redial, sagging weakly against the wall as Billy’s voice once again fills his mind.

This is Billy. You know what to do.

Hanging up the phone, Dom sets it on the countertop so he can drop the loose tablets back into the bottle. Leaving the open container next to the basin, Dom closes the medicine cabinet and starts to leave the loo, but then his eye catches the photo stuck to the wall beside the mirror. An image he looks at every day. The picture is of Billy in his Pippin costume, with Dom as Merry sitting beside him, long arm slung around Billy’s shoulders. Their bodies are pressed together, and Billy is laughing, his lovely green eyes sparkling at the naughty joke Dom has just whispered in his ear. Dom remembers the day well, when Billy snuggled closer in an attempt to keep warm and ward off the chill in the air. It was a really good day.

Muscles aching from the tension in his body, Dom decides to run a bath, hoping that soaking in the hot water will help soothe the ache and quiet the pounding in his head. Photo clutched in one hand, Dom twists on the taps, perching on the edge of the bathtub, absently watching the steaming water rise higher and higher. When the water is near the top, Dom turns the taps again, and suddenly the room is very quiet. Staring at the image of Billy laughing, Dom’s belly twists so hard, he whimpers in distress. Never again, will they share that kind of laughter. That was a long time ago. A lifetime ago. Now, Billy’s laughter echoes in Dom’s mind, taunting him, almost mocking him. How ridiculous is it that he’d fallen so hopelessly in love with Billy? Lovely, sexy, responsible, gorgeous, straight Billy.

You know what to do.

Walking back over to the basin, Dom picks up the open bottle of sleeping tablets and stares at it for a long time, heart and mind battling as his eyes fill with traitorous tears. Escape from the pain is so close, at his fingertips. It’s so bloody close, almost whispering in his ear, promising that at last, it’ll stop hurting him, stop tearing at his insides, shredding his heart. The pain will finally stop. Finally. All he has to do is swallow down some tiny tablets.

Since Billy and Dom met in New Zealand, all those years ago, Billy has been a rock. He’s always been the strong one, where Dom has faltered so very often, stumbled and been weak. He’s thrown himself against Billy, over and over, silently seeking a safe place in Billy’s heart, only to fall away, damaged and bruised. Now it seems, Dom has finally broken himself, badly, leaving his soul shattered and destroyed. The last of his strength is gone, his spirit crushed, and there’s nothing left to hold on to. Dom wishes he didn’t love Billy so much, that he could just stop, turn it off like a tap, and end the pain. He wishes he could quit loving Billy so much. Quit feeling. Make it all stop. Everything.

You know what to do.

Before he can change his mind, Dom lifts the bottle to his lips and jerks his head back, quickly swallowing a large portion of the contents. Dropping the plastic bottle into the porcelain basin and watching some of the remaining blue tablets spill out, a few disappearing down the drain, Dom then presses the photo to his bare chest as he picks up the cordless phone and walks back over to the bath he’d run.

Laying the phone and photo carefully on the edge of the tub, Dom braces his weight on his hands and slowly lowers himself into the hot, soothing water, slinking low and marveling how it feels like a warm, wet cocoon. He’s surrounded in the heat from the tips of his toes all the way up to his chin, droplets clinging to his earlobes. One hand rises out of the water to pick up the photo, and Dom brings it close, almost touching his nose, within kissing distance. He stares at the image of himself and Billy for a long time, a thumb occasionally brushing over Billy’s joyful smile, laughter echoing in his mind.

Dom has no idea how much time passes as the water starts to cool and his eyelids grow heavy. Blinking several times and struggling to remain awake, Dom gazes longingly at the photo cradled in his palm. It doesn’t hurt as much now. The pain is finally leaving him. At last, peace is within his grasp. Transferring the photo from one hand to the other, Dom reaches over, picks up the cordless phone and presses the redial button one last time.

This is Billy. You know what to do.

Swallowing hard and clearing his sore throat, Dom concentrates to form the words as Billy’s answering machine flips over to record a message.

“Forgive me,” he whispers hoarsely, wishing he could muster the courage to tell Billy how he really feels.

Ending the call, Dom lets the phone fall from his limp, heavy fingers and clatter on the cold, tile floor. Pressing the New Zealand photo to his chest, Dom sinks lower into the water, finally letting his weary eyes drop closed and surrendering to the nearly overwhelming wave of exhaustion seeping through his limbs. Just a few minutes later, as the muscles in his body relax completely, his breathing shallow, Dom’s face slips beneath the surface.

* ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ *

Frowning in confusion, Billy listens to Dom’s message for a third time as he reaches to pick up the phone, intending to ring Dom in LA and find out what the bloody Hell is going on. What in the world would Dom need forgiveness for? His fingers are wrapping around the handset when a shrill ring fills the air, causing Billy to jump in surprise. Quickly answering the call, Billy listens in disbelief as Sean unsteadily informs him of how Mac discovered Dom in the bathtub a little over an hour ago. Sean’s voice cracks as he struggles to give the painful details of what Dom did to end his life and photo that was found with him.

Legs shaking and then folding beneath him, Billy collapses, breath ragged as the meaning of Dom’s message suddenly becomes very clear. Blinking rapidly and looking over to at the fridge, Billy focuses on his favorite photo from his time filming Rings in New Zealand. It’s of Dom and himself in costume, sitting side by side, laughing.

Realizing that Dom was holding the identical photo when he died, how they’ll never laugh like that ever again, Billy tenderly cradles the photo in his hand and presses it to his aching chest. There is a new, painful emptiness growing inside Billy, as the spot that Dom had filled for years has been torn open and it’s contents brutally ripped away, leaving him hollow. Hot tears roll down Billy’s cheeks as his heart shatters into thousands of pieces, never to be whole again.

* ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ *

8-Goodbye

Current Mood: pensive

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Date: 2006-01-03 06:36 pm (UTC)

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