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Title: Gathering
Author: The Phantom Writer![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
silentnumbsmoke
Pairing: BB/DM
Rating: PG-13
Feedback: If you show me love, I'll show you love. :)
Disclaimer: What? They're not mine? Scandal! ... Yeah, it's fiction as well.
Notes: This was a story that I wrote about... one or two weeks ago... the spark word was Gathering. I wrote it in 14 minutes, I believe.
Thanks toairlia_vega for being a great beta!
This story is, of course, angst.
Dominic shifted uncomfortably. He tried to smile genially, he really did, but it was so hard. It seemed his lips were fixed in a permanent frown, stuck in a scowl. He wanted to be anywhere but here. Anywhere. He’d even face a room full of people he’d shagged and never called from the past. But this? This was pure torture.
He thought it was love. Fucking love, he scoffed, clasping his hands behind his back as he attempted to tune out the music that floated through the air around him. He was willing to drop everything for his love. He was willing to lose fame and his career, just to stand by his lover, unabashed at what they were doing; unashamed of their love. He had been more than ready to admit everything to everyone – his family, friends, the media… Apparently he was the only one who was quite ready for that adjustment.
‘You’re the only one for me, Dommie.’ Yeah, fucking right. ‘The only one,’ my arse. It turned out to be the biggest lie he would ever hear, and he fell for it. Fell for the line, for the eyes, for the lips. For the love. The love that, apparently, wasn’t truly love. Love that was only a fling.
He set his jaw furiously: Dominic would never even consider using the words ‘love’ and ‘fling’ in the same sentence. They didn’t work; they would never match.
He had thought that they matched. In every way possible. They lived in the same house, and rarely quarreled. When they did, it was always followed by a beautiful round of making love.
Yet, it wasn’t making love, was it? Dominic thought it was then, but now he knew: they had never made love. It had always only been fucking. Or screwing. Or… or… a fucking fling.
He resisted the urge to smack himself in the face. Why the fuck did he see what wasn’t truly there? Why didn’t he guess it when his words of love were only responded to with a slight nudge?
The music grew in intensity, and Dominic turned. Time to turn from wallowing in his self-pity to forcing the sickly, fake smile back on his lips. Why the fuck had he been asked to do this?!?
He blinked back tears as he saw the woman in white, beaming so hard it looked like her face might break, walking towards the altar to the awaiting men. She smiled at Dominic, biting her lip happily.
Refusing to ruin her happy day, Dom turned his gaze towards the ground, shifting his weight from foot to foot.
“We are gathered here today to celebrate the matrimony between William Boyd and Susan Bellmont.”
And so the ceremony began. Dominic’s body was there, but his mind was long gone, running from the pain.
I loved you, Billy.
Author: The Phantom Writer
silentnumbsmokePairing: BB/DM
Rating: PG-13
Feedback: If you show me love, I'll show you love. :)
Disclaimer: What? They're not mine? Scandal! ... Yeah, it's fiction as well.
Notes: This was a story that I wrote about... one or two weeks ago... the spark word was Gathering. I wrote it in 14 minutes, I believe.
Thanks to
airlia_vega for being a great beta!This story is, of course, angst.
Dominic shifted uncomfortably. He tried to smile genially, he really did, but it was so hard. It seemed his lips were fixed in a permanent frown, stuck in a scowl. He wanted to be anywhere but here. Anywhere. He’d even face a room full of people he’d shagged and never called from the past. But this? This was pure torture.
He thought it was love. Fucking love, he scoffed, clasping his hands behind his back as he attempted to tune out the music that floated through the air around him. He was willing to drop everything for his love. He was willing to lose fame and his career, just to stand by his lover, unabashed at what they were doing; unashamed of their love. He had been more than ready to admit everything to everyone – his family, friends, the media… Apparently he was the only one who was quite ready for that adjustment.
‘You’re the only one for me, Dommie.’ Yeah, fucking right. ‘The only one,’ my arse. It turned out to be the biggest lie he would ever hear, and he fell for it. Fell for the line, for the eyes, for the lips. For the love. The love that, apparently, wasn’t truly love. Love that was only a fling.
He set his jaw furiously: Dominic would never even consider using the words ‘love’ and ‘fling’ in the same sentence. They didn’t work; they would never match.
He had thought that they matched. In every way possible. They lived in the same house, and rarely quarreled. When they did, it was always followed by a beautiful round of making love.
Yet, it wasn’t making love, was it? Dominic thought it was then, but now he knew: they had never made love. It had always only been fucking. Or screwing. Or… or… a fucking fling.
He resisted the urge to smack himself in the face. Why the fuck did he see what wasn’t truly there? Why didn’t he guess it when his words of love were only responded to with a slight nudge?
The music grew in intensity, and Dominic turned. Time to turn from wallowing in his self-pity to forcing the sickly, fake smile back on his lips. Why the fuck had he been asked to do this?!?
He blinked back tears as he saw the woman in white, beaming so hard it looked like her face might break, walking towards the altar to the awaiting men. She smiled at Dominic, biting her lip happily.
Refusing to ruin her happy day, Dom turned his gaze towards the ground, shifting his weight from foot to foot.
“We are gathered here today to celebrate the matrimony between William Boyd and Susan Bellmont.”
And so the ceremony began. Dominic’s body was there, but his mind was long gone, running from the pain.
I loved you, Billy.
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