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Title: Crash & Burn
Pairing: Monaboyd.
Rating: G.
Summary: Dom notices that Billy's off his game, but instead of talking to him, he writes a letter...
Notes: The words in italics are song lyrics! However, this is NOT a songfic. I don't know why I stuck 'em in there. But I like it. Also, I have an idea about a semi-sequel, like Billy's answer to the letter. Let me know if you'd like to see it.
Song: Crash & Burn
Band: Savage Garden



Crash & Burn
by Jenna

Dear Billy,

I can’t help noticing you’re not yourself. Don’t try denying it, I know you better than you think I do.

When you feel all alone
And the world has turned its back on you
Give me a moment please to tame your wild, wild heart
I know you feel like the walls are closing in on you
It’s hard to find relief and people can be so cold
When darkness is upon your door and you feel like you can’t take anymore

You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong, in fact, I’m not even going to ask. All I will do is tell you that I’m here for you, through whatever it is that’s going on.

Let me be the one you call
If you jump I’ll break your fall
Lift you up and fly away with you into the night
If you need to fall apart
I can mend a broken heart
If you need to crash then crash and burn
You’re not alone

Do you remember when I got to New Zealand and found out Grammy had died? Do you remember how amazing you were, looking after me, keeping my head up? We’d known each other for maybe a month, yet it felt like years. It felt like I’d found my soul mate, my best friend.

When you feel all alone
And a loyal friend is hard to find
You’re caught in a one-way street
With the monsters in your head
When hopes and dreams are far away and
You feel like you can’t face the day

I remember writing a letter to my mother, telling her all about you. About how caring you were, how you looked after me when Grammy died. I told her about all the mischief we got up to on-set. And about how we can each drink four shots of tequila and are still able to walk out the door.

I told her all about how you lost your parents when you were young, and how your sister is the most important thing on earth to you. I also mentioned to her that you’re talented, which I’m sure you knew anyway. Because you really are, Bills. You’re the most talented, caring, special person I’ve ever met. And now, just four days before we wrap for good, there’s something wrong with you and I can’t figure out what.

Is it something as simple as being upset about all this coming to an end? Because if it is, you shouldn’t feel sad. What we have will never end, Bill. Or is it something much deeper, much more hidden that I don’t know about?

I know you so well, Billy. I really do. You may think I know a bit about what goes on inside that head of yours, but I’m telling you, I know things you’ve never dreamed I’d know. I know that you’re scared about where your career is going. I know you’re worried about Margaret and being away from her for so long. I know you hate the fact you’re getting older and that you’re helpless to stop it from happening. I know you hate porridge, but eat it only to appease Elijah when he brings it into your room of a morning on a pretty tray with a fresh flower resting on the napkin.

I know that you hate it when Orlando puts his feet up on the coffee table. Matter of fact, I hate it too, but that’s beside the point. I know that you usually speak your mind, but you hate to tread on other people’s beliefs or opinions.

I know you’re incredibly strong, despite how much you think otherwise. I know that you’re gonna be fine for the rest of your life because you know what you’re doing. You may scoff at this, and you probably should, but I know, deep in my heart, that no matter what happens, you, Billy Boyd, will be fine.

I know you’re going to make someone very happy one day. I know you’re gonna have babies – 2, I think – and a beautiful house in Glasgow, where you’ll hold a big family Christmas each year. I know you’ll travel, most likely back here to New Zealand, or possibly Africa. Never to Australia, it’s too hot for you, and never to America, because you hate how commercial it is.

See, I know a bit, don’t I?

Because there has always been heartache and pain
And when it’s over you’ll breathe again
You’ll breathe again

You think I don’t see you? You think I don’t watch you out of the corner of my eye when we’re watching TV. I see everything. I see you sigh as that damned ad for Pest Control comes on, and I see a smile crawl on your lips for every Lord Of The Rings advert. I see how your eyes dance when Queer Eye For The Straight Guy comes on and I see how you laugh in amusement when Carson picks apart some poor bastard’s closet.

I see how you bite your nails when you watch the news, because what’s happening in the world really gets to you. I see how you tap your foot impatiently when Orlando channel surfs, because you can’t stand it. You hate his indecision when he has the remote, and hates that he usually settles on something barbaric like Jerry Springer with the tagline: “Nasty Trailer Park Stories!”

I see how you clench your jaw in anger when you see that I’ve left yet another dirty dish in the sink. I see how your shoulders slump in defeat just before you run hot water in the sink to wash-up. I see the way you look out of the window when you’re standing there, and it’s obvious you’re in another place. Somewhere far, far away from that kitchen.

I always see you when you have that look on your face: between asleep and awake, and I can tell, no, I know that you’re seconds off slipping into a dream. It’s in those moments I have to coax you up off the couch and into your bedroom.

I don’t know how many times I’ve done that.

I see a lot of things, Billy. The things you do, the faces you make, betray your soul.

When you feel all alone
And the world has turned its back on you
Give me a moment please
To tame to your wild, wild heart

I can’t count all the times I’ve come to you with problems. There was the time I got my wig stuck in the zipper of my pants, remember that? You gave me the weirdest look when I walked up to you with hair hanging from my fly. And there was the time I drank way too much and told I wanted to have your babies. Not to mention the time that my mum was sick, and I couldn’t go home to see her.

You were always there for me, hopefully you always will be.

I’d like to think I’m here for you, for you to pour out your heart, to be your punching bag (not literally, of course) and just someone you can sit and talk to.

Remember when that jellyfish stung me when we were surfing? I spent three days in bed, down right intent never to go back in the water. But you talked me into it, you always do. You could tell I didn’t want to give up something as important as surfing, and in your special Billy Boyd way, you convinced me that I wasn’t afraid of the jellyfish, I was afraid of it happening again.

You always make sense. How do you do that? You always make things seem so simple and so logical. It makes me feel stupid sometimes. I wish I could tell Elijah the right thing when he comes to me with a problem, I wish I had your ease and assurance.

You never made fun of me for crying in Billy Elliott even when Orlando and Elijah gave me crap for it for like, a week. You never told a soul when I confessed to thinking that Viggo is gorgeous. You never told anyone how I got jock itch from riding up in that damn tree for hours at a time. You never judged me when I told you I was confused about my sexuality. You didn’t recoil in disgust or hit me. You were supportive. You were you.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that I love you, man. A lot. You’re my best friend, and it hurts me when I see you hurting.

I’m not asking you to tell me what’s wrong, I’m not really asking for anything. I just want to know you’re ok. Even if you lie and tell me you are. I worry about you, maybe too much. I can’t help it, you’re my life, Bills. If you’re unhappy, I’m unhappy.

So, write back, don’t write back, hit me, give me a wedgie, whatever. Just…be ok.

Lotsa love,

Dom.