Regrets Part II

[nomads-land.livejournal.com]

Second part of Regrets. If you've not read it, read this anyways. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what's going on.
Rating: G/PG/Pg-13
Disclaimer: Yeah, that's right, I've got Dom and Billy under my bed right now. Except not... they're not mine.
Pairing: DM/BB
Comments: Please



It had been forty two days. Forty two days of pretending he was going to be OK. Forty one nights of trying not to sob into a pillow. Forty two mornings of waking up to find himself alone. Forty two days since Billy had lied man he loved and told him that it wasn't going to work out between them. It had been forty two days, and Billy was a wreck. He hadn't look at himself in the mirror for a month, because he was afraid of his reflection. He was afraid of what he'd see, he was afraid of what he had become. On the forty-second night, he looked. And stared. His eyes were sunken and hollow-looking. His hair was a tangled mess. His skin, normally at least slightly tannish, was translucent.
"Billy boy," he muttered to himself, his voice coming out in a hoarse croak, "Ye'd best stop lying to yerself. You love that man, and you'd better act damn fast before someone else realizes what the fuck they're missin' out on."
And so he packed, called a cab, and rode to the airport. "One please... Los Angeles." As if he were in a train station. As if flying on the spur of the moment was a normal thing. As if showing up to the airport looking like a dead man was commonplace. He ignored the strange glances he got. They didn't matter.
The plane lifted off, and Billy was thrown into a fitful sleep, awoken only by a kindly stewardess asking if he'd like a beverage. He accepted a steaming cup of instant coffee, and realized as he drank it that he only drank coffee when he was with Dom. Dom was the only thing that'd get him to touch the vile stuff. "Here's hoping," he thought, before finishing it in three gulps.
Hours in the air can really screw you up, but they didn't affect Billy. He was so screwed up already that they were almost refreshing. In the air, you can forget about what's happening on the ground.
~~~~~~~~
Los Angeles was smoggy and damp when Billy staggered off the plane. He'd carried his baggage with him, so all he had to do was go through Customs.
A line of cabs stood outside. Billy named the apartment complex Dom lived in, and was whisked away in a cloud of car fumes.
Time had no meaning, only distance. He was closer. Dom was closer. Could he fix what he'd done? Some wounds don't heal, some vases are broken into such small pieces that there's no hope of mending them.
Billy knocked on the door he'd seen once before. A pause. It opened. As Dom opened the door, his eyes widened, then grew cold, empty, lifeless. These were not Dom's eyes.
"Dom." Billy managed to whisper.
Dom stared at him.
"Dom... I've been on a plane for almost sixteen fuckin' hours, will you let me in?"
Billy winced. It was not a good start.
Dom opened the door, and stalked back inside, still not talking.
"Shit" muttered Billy. He picked up his duffel bag and entered.

~~~~

Haha I'm evil. Cliffhanger, eh?