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monaboyd Sep. 2nd, 2006 04:32 pm)
glass-moment.livejournal.com posting in monaboyd Sep. 2nd, 2006 04:32 pm)Title: Tonight
Pairing: Monaboyd
Rating: PG
Summary: The last night in New Zealand.
The wrap party is still in full swing, probably in several locations by now, but after a few hours Billy had grown claustrophobic in the crush of people. His own house is full of the quiet peace of the very early morning. It doesn't seem to help. The combination of grief and exhaustion that had given him frenetic energy during the day has settled into a faint nausea that his fourth cup of tea is doing nothing to counteract. He drums his fingers on the sofa. It's hard to stay still- he can't be bothered to make decaf, but then he can't be bothered to sleep, either, so it doesn't really matter.
He's up again and wandering around the kitchen when the front door opens to admit Dom, rumpled and bright-eyed and immediate, for a very few more hours. Billy turns and hugs him hello. It's a habit that's become meaningless after all this time, different tonight because neither of them wants to let go. His arm aches from holding his tea out to the side for so long.
"Is the party over?" he asks, when Dom finally releases him.
"No. It'll probably go all night." They look at each other for a moment, then Dom shrugs in response to Billy's unspoken question. "I got tired of having a good time," he says.
He jerks his head toward the hallway and Billy follows him, unsurprised when he finds Dom sprawled across his bed. They've passed countless hours this way: Dom stretched out on top of the blankets, Billy sitting at the foot of the bed, facing him. Two separate regrets. To never see this room again, and to never see Dom's face across it. It's not hard to say which he'll miss more.
Because tonight is tonight, he sits next to Dom for the first time. It's not at all comfortable. He shifts around for a minute before resigning himself to the headboard jabbing him in the back.
"You're all jittery," says Dom. It's true. He's been restless to the point of actual discomfort all day. Dom, on the other hand, has been unnaturally solemn and still. Just one more thing that's wrong.
"Probably the caffeine," Billy replies. "Had to stay awake to work. I didn't sleep last night."
"Why not?"
"I don't know. Probably didn't want to wake up and have it be this morning."
Dom exhales a quiet half-laugh, and they are silent for a while. Billy tries to think of something meaningful to say.
"Don't worry about it," Dom tells him. He rolls over to throw and arm across Billy's waist and press his nose into Billy's side. "There'll be time to say goodbye the morning."
Billy twists his fingers in Dom's shirtsleeve. He wonders if this is the last time he'll experience that strange feeling of having his silences understood just as well as his words.
"It's not like we're going into exile," Dom continues. "We can still write and call and visit. Like we did when Merry and Pippin were apart."
"But we're not coming back this time," says Billy, leaning over to place his empty mug on the floor. When he straightens again, Dom tugs at his belt loop.
"Just lie down, won't you?"
He complies, lying on his back so he doesn't have to decide which side he should face. Once he's settled, Dom says, "I won't forget you, you know."
"Not even when you're a Hollywood star?"
"Not even then." He is sincere, sincere, but who can know the future? Billy thinks that, despite everything, he will let himself believe it for the night.
The silence stretches and, against his will, Billy feels himself beginning to drift. It's dangerous, this place between waking and sleeping, because it lets his thoughts wander where they will. There are things he would do better not to think about until tomorrow.
Dom stirs and brushes a hand lightly over Billy's eyes, a familiar signal that means stop trying to stay awake. Tonight, however, he doesn't take his hand away. Billy feels the bed shifting and then there are lips covering his own. The only things to see are the reddish lines of light between Dom's fingers. He kisses back, a little. Some part of him wants to raise a hand, brush his thumb over Dom's cheek, but he is heavy and passive with exhaustion and then the lips are gone, and then the hand.
The ceiling is white and unremarkable. He lies still. Dom tucks himself close, draping an arm and a leg over him like an anchor, and murmurs,
"You should sleep."
Billy does.
Pairing: Monaboyd
Rating: PG
Summary: The last night in New Zealand.
The wrap party is still in full swing, probably in several locations by now, but after a few hours Billy had grown claustrophobic in the crush of people. His own house is full of the quiet peace of the very early morning. It doesn't seem to help. The combination of grief and exhaustion that had given him frenetic energy during the day has settled into a faint nausea that his fourth cup of tea is doing nothing to counteract. He drums his fingers on the sofa. It's hard to stay still- he can't be bothered to make decaf, but then he can't be bothered to sleep, either, so it doesn't really matter.
He's up again and wandering around the kitchen when the front door opens to admit Dom, rumpled and bright-eyed and immediate, for a very few more hours. Billy turns and hugs him hello. It's a habit that's become meaningless after all this time, different tonight because neither of them wants to let go. His arm aches from holding his tea out to the side for so long.
"Is the party over?" he asks, when Dom finally releases him.
"No. It'll probably go all night." They look at each other for a moment, then Dom shrugs in response to Billy's unspoken question. "I got tired of having a good time," he says.
He jerks his head toward the hallway and Billy follows him, unsurprised when he finds Dom sprawled across his bed. They've passed countless hours this way: Dom stretched out on top of the blankets, Billy sitting at the foot of the bed, facing him. Two separate regrets. To never see this room again, and to never see Dom's face across it. It's not hard to say which he'll miss more.
Because tonight is tonight, he sits next to Dom for the first time. It's not at all comfortable. He shifts around for a minute before resigning himself to the headboard jabbing him in the back.
"You're all jittery," says Dom. It's true. He's been restless to the point of actual discomfort all day. Dom, on the other hand, has been unnaturally solemn and still. Just one more thing that's wrong.
"Probably the caffeine," Billy replies. "Had to stay awake to work. I didn't sleep last night."
"Why not?"
"I don't know. Probably didn't want to wake up and have it be this morning."
Dom exhales a quiet half-laugh, and they are silent for a while. Billy tries to think of something meaningful to say.
"Don't worry about it," Dom tells him. He rolls over to throw and arm across Billy's waist and press his nose into Billy's side. "There'll be time to say goodbye the morning."
Billy twists his fingers in Dom's shirtsleeve. He wonders if this is the last time he'll experience that strange feeling of having his silences understood just as well as his words.
"It's not like we're going into exile," Dom continues. "We can still write and call and visit. Like we did when Merry and Pippin were apart."
"But we're not coming back this time," says Billy, leaning over to place his empty mug on the floor. When he straightens again, Dom tugs at his belt loop.
"Just lie down, won't you?"
He complies, lying on his back so he doesn't have to decide which side he should face. Once he's settled, Dom says, "I won't forget you, you know."
"Not even when you're a Hollywood star?"
"Not even then." He is sincere, sincere, but who can know the future? Billy thinks that, despite everything, he will let himself believe it for the night.
The silence stretches and, against his will, Billy feels himself beginning to drift. It's dangerous, this place between waking and sleeping, because it lets his thoughts wander where they will. There are things he would do better not to think about until tomorrow.
Dom stirs and brushes a hand lightly over Billy's eyes, a familiar signal that means stop trying to stay awake. Tonight, however, he doesn't take his hand away. Billy feels the bed shifting and then there are lips covering his own. The only things to see are the reddish lines of light between Dom's fingers. He kisses back, a little. Some part of him wants to raise a hand, brush his thumb over Dom's cheek, but he is heavy and passive with exhaustion and then the lips are gone, and then the hand.
The ceiling is white and unremarkable. He lies still. Dom tucks himself close, draping an arm and a leg over him like an anchor, and murmurs,
"You should sleep."
Billy does.
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