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[deathnomiko.livejournal.com]

Title: Virtual Insanity
author: deathnomiko
Rating: PG-13 *for language mostly*
Summary: It's ok to talk to yourself, right? I mean, it's completely normal... So he thinks.
Notes: This is my first writing in FOREVER, so I'm fairly proud of it. Ideas come to me at the weirdest moments, for this one I was in the hallway right after class let out, and noticed it was oddly quiet for the amount of people in it.
Feedback: Pays for the new monitor that Dell keeps screwing up.


His emerald green eyes darted from side to side. He didn’t know what it was, or how to exactly describe the silence around him, but what he could explain was that it definitely was getting on his nerves. He turned to the man next to him. "Did you say something?"

"No...am too tired to say anything." He replied.

"Say something anyway. I don’t like the quiet."

"Christ, Bill, it's 2 in the fucking morning, and do you even realize how long we were in that studio?"

He paused. Actually, he didn’t think about it. "Well, we were in make-up at 5, and made it into the studio around 7 or so..."

"Exactly! We were working there for a good 12 hours, and within the first two hours, I lost all feeling in my lower half on those damn seats. Thank God we have tomorrow off!" He yawned and finally questioned. "Did I talk enough? Because all I want to do is sleep."

Why did we walk? It's fucking cold out here. Some things just never made sense to Billy, and how thoughts sound like a great idea in the beginning, but then turn out a pain in the you-know-where, just baffled him.



To save money, they turned the heat off while they were gone, and sitting in what felt like a freezer of a bed made Billy decide that no longer would he listen to his friend on his money-saving ways when it came to heating.

He blinked, it was here again. It being the silence, of course, and being the exact same silence that bugged him earlier. His love for noise never attacked him so much as it was right now. He hated silence, and it brought in streams of crazy thoughts and analyzing too deep into things. How so, you ask? He questioned himself, and then smacked his forehead. "It's OK to talk to yourself as long as you don't answer. That's what Gran always told me..." He mumbled.

But what does the silence mean? Why does it bother so much? Maybe it was his conscience or something of the sort, but he swore he didn't have a conscience, because he rarely second guessed his actions.

Silence is...silence! If there's quiet, then there's something there, but with silence, it's nothing there! He replied mentally, and then gasped. "Silence is death!" His whisper cried into the dark room, where he swore he heard it echo. He looked around, and quickly turned his clock radio on to drown anymore thoughts, and let the music bore him into sleep.



"I love getting piss drunk!" Dom's arm swung around Billy's shoulder, a beer bottle pressed against his chest. "Have some more, because I'm beating you tonight already! Where’s the Scotsman in ya?"

Billy laughed. "I'm working on it. I don't need to be puking my guts so quickly! At this rate, I'm gonna have to carry you home."

Dom giggled into this his shoulder and pointed over into Elijah's direction. "You're going to be carrying him too. Look at 'im."

It looked like once again their elf friend Orlando challenged Elijah to another guzzling contest, in which the hobbit never protested at.

The night went into the wee hours, and the shuffle back to their shared apartment was another story in itself. Dom was completely wasted, not even realizing he was rambling half in English and half in German, and was practically another part of Billy with the way he was clutching on.

But then thoughts kept nagging in the insides of Billy's mind, as if caged and demanding a way to be heard. He almost wanted to describe it as another thought process from his own, but that would be absurd to say. His drunken mind was just teasing him.



Light streamed through the window and across his pale face. Squinting, Billy rolled over and smacked into another body. He looked and found Dom next to him. He had forgotten that he couldn't get Dom to peal off of his side, so he just stayed in the same bed with him all night. He grinned, the thought sounded so wrong, but this happening wasn't the first time.

"Warm..." A blue eye was open and focused on Billy. "You're so warm... and it's ungodly cold in this place." He scooted closer to him and wrapped an arm around his torso.

"You're so lazy." Billy ruffled his hair. "I barely got you out of that pub last night, y'know? Thought I lost you to their beer."

"Ach, t'was good beer, though." His lips pressed against the exposed skin on his mate's shoulder. "And I still beat you, because I can't even remember leaving." He laughed, and let his hand draw lazy circles against the T-shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles and folds in the fabric.

"I love long weekends." Billy sighed.

"Why's that?" Dom questioned, now outlining Billy's collarbone through the fabric. "Sleep all day? Play around in bed, perhaps?"

"Your mind only works on one thought at a time, doesn't it?" He grabbed his hand, memorizing each line on his palm, trying to wonder what one those psychics determined as life lines and nonsense like that.

"I'm a complex person who focuses on important matters, thank you very much." His hand slid out from Billy's grasp so he could support himself over him. "Very important matters." He added before kissing him.



Filming...bright lights on you, almost like the sun's rays when you literally feel your skin burning in the summer sun. He watched his feet lift from the ground, and watched everything move to a new perspective as the arms of Treebeard raised him into the air. He groaned from the lack of comfort, and questioned himself once again why he was here.

Pawns... A voice flittered around his head again.

Pawns? How am I pawn? He scowled.

In chess, weak players kill their pawns off, or you could think of it as sacrifices for the king's glory.

He laughed inwardly. Ha! What king? He paused, and analyzed the situation. If he looked at it in a different view point, Peter Jackson could be considered the "king". Pete?

Yes! He's using you for his glory.

His scowl deepened, and he grew even more uncomfortable, until he noticed that he was moving again, and that filming was about to start.

"You alright there, Billy? You seemed to be angry about something." Dom shouted to him.

"Huh? Nah, I'm good." But he thought for a second about the conversation, and just shook it off. It was nothing to worry about. Every normal person holds a conversation with themselves at some point in time, right?



Filming went even slower than usual, due to technical difficulties, or one of them forgetting their lines and had to stop.

"Lunch break!" Someone shouted below in the back, where the lights surprisingly couldn't reach very well.

"Guys do you want to stay up there again?" A crew member shouted from Billy’s side of the massive puppet.

"Eh, we already have no feeling, might as well." Dom replied since Billy seemed to be focused on something else when he looked to him.

They claimed their food, and the eerie stillness of all the crew gone began.

"Dom, have you ever..." Billy began, then decided maybe it wasn’t a good question after all.

"Hm?" There it was, those accusing blue eyes on him again. "What? You're about to say something?"

"Nah, forget it. It's nothing."

"No, I'm curious now. What?"

"Well...Have you ever questioned yourself on something you already knew the answer to, but you ask it anyway, and then answer it?" He spoke so quickly, that Dom barely made it out between Billy’s full mouth and his accent.

"Like what? Ask myself if I like the colour blue, but then I already know I do? Or like..." He thought for a minute, and noticed by Billy’s intense gaze that he was being completely serious on the matter. "Do you mean like talking to myself?"

"Exactly. Have you ever talked to yourself?"

"Who hasn't? Now about what, is the real question." He grinned and took another sip of his tea, being careful not to drop the small cup.

Twenty more minutes passed, and the crew slowly started to filter back into the studio, running checks and making sure the two were ready this time for filming.



Billy had completely forgotten about the conversation and his silly wonderings if it truly was all right to talk to yourself. His mind was also clear when he found himself pressed against the wall with Dom practically on him. For a second he couldn't figure out why, considering they did leave the heat on this time, and he surely didn't need help taking off his scarf. Then it clicked. "Horny bastard." He looked into eyes filled with lust.

"What?" a grin grew on his friend's face. "So what if I am?"

Horny, yes, but it isn’t always for you. It was like a whisper, and before Billy could question, he was already involved in a deepening kiss.

I'm not a loon, y'know. This isn't real. He retaliated against the whisper as his scarf dropped to the floor.

He's not thinking of you... It's the other one.

Soft pressure on one side of his neck as delicate fingers slowly crept up to tangle in his hair, deeping the kiss.

"One"? What on earth...? He was becoming greedier within the kiss.

Don't be a fool! You know he isn’t thinking of you while he kisses you in those tender spots. It's never been you, but you were always the one open to his love. Fucking pawn, you are.

His voice caught in the back of his throat as Dom's hand tugged at the hem of his shirt, trying to let his slightly cold hands touch skin, knowing it'd send a tremble through Billy.

"S...St..." He searched for the word.

Pawn! Pawn! Pawn! He's never loved you. He just pretends, Pawn!

"Ah...St..." His breath becoming more ragged as his back arched to allow Dom a moment to smile against his neck.

Can't you see!? It's that prat, Elijah!

"S-Stop, Dom...!" His voice was barely a whisper.

"Too much fun seeing you squirm, Bill." A gruff reply.

You're so stubborn! You were always stubborn to the truth.

"Stop it!" His voice finally found an opening, and when the whispers stopped, he looked straight into confused blue-grey eyes.

"What's wrong?" It was concern, and maybe a tang of hurt?

"Ah...I..." He swallowed, and realized he was panting. "Ah... Just can't do this right now." He watched him back away, feeling out each step gently as if he were treading on thin ice.

"You ok?"

"Bad headache, 's all." He shifted his gaze to the door knob as his finished unzipping his jacket to save himself from the uncomfortable heat. "I'm sorry." He looked up, and quietly watched Dom remove his boots, actually taking time to untie them, which was a very uncommon Dom-thing to do. "I said..."

"I heard you, I'm not deaf. Do you want me to get you something?" Was his voice cold? Or was it stifled concern?

"I'm fine." He slipped his shoes off, and without anymore questioning, he went to bed.



The next day the two carried on as if nothing of the previous night ever occurred, which in a way was a blessing. However, Billy couldn't stop himself from panicking from it. What was that voice? It was like someone was next to him whispering in his ear, subliminal messages if you will, and it was starting to scare him.

Weakling... There it was again.

Leave me alone! Stop plaguing me! He cried against it.

I know what he did while you slept...

His forehead rested against his palm, fingers outlining where the wig met his skin. I'm not listening... You don't exist! I'm not going crazy! This is just ludicrous!

"Billy!?" It was the director. "Earth to Billy Boyd, come in, Billy Boyd!" How long had he been calling him?

"S-Sorry!" He shot up to his feet, eyes darting, wondering how long he had been sitting there.

"Ready to film now?"

What did I say? You’re a pawn.

"Yes." He gritted his teeth, pushing back the haunting voices.



Lunchtime came late that day, and it wasn't just Dom and him, but also the rest of the hobbits and the crew it seemed.

He sat down next to Dom, as he usually did now without even realization. And the minute he took a bite out of the sandwich, a sharp pain shot through his head, a pain that reminded him of accidentally biting his tongue or the side of his cheek. However it was the voices again. They were whispering deep in his mind, and now more than ever.

The whispers echoed against walls of his mind and were bouncing back as the sound waves were reflected, and constantly growing more and more frequent now.

He barely likes you...They're using you just for their little masterpiece, you won't even be noticed...His daughter is spreading lies and secretly prying into things that shouldn't be touched...They're staring at you, don't you see? They don't understand you. They never understood you! They wouldn't end, and that was only the start of them.

What? I can't even eat in fucking peace now? Do I always have to hear you? Because if there's an off switch that no one is telling me about, I'd appreciate a memo. I'm getting pretty tired of hearing things in my head that aren't even real!

The others next to him were laughing about some joke that he obviously missed, and he questionly looked across to Sean.

"Off in space there, Bill?" He laughed. "Not like you to miss a joke. Where's your usual witty response?"

"Heh, caught up in today's filming, I suppose." Was his fake laugh real enough to them? He guessed so, considering they carried on in their chatter.

Lies, all of them are lies. No one tells you the truth.

Oh, shut up... you're the ones making me look mental here. I can't even hold a conversation with anyone now. It's all fragments. Y'know, just crawl back to the inner cracks of my mind and leave me in peace, will ya?

But all the whispers protested...Pawn...never loved you...it's Elijah...they're staring at you, Billy...behind your back...Are you blind!?...silence is death!...Everyone's just using you...and finally it broke him.

"SHUT UP!" His rage was quick to flair, and he cursed it considering there was hushed lull around the room now and all eyes were focused on him.

And he didn't understand it, but the words just came pouring into his mouth and he pointed a shaky finger towards the director in the corner. "I'm sick of being your pawn! You're just squandering us for your pride, and I don't want a part of it!"

He glance turned to Sean, and his hand fell to the table. "And you! I don't want to be stuck babysitting your daughter anymore! I don't know what went wrong in that child's mind, but she's a brat, just watch her and you'll see! Oh wait, you're still giving her what she wants, maybe that would stop the problem."

He started to leave cursing everyone he could get to and lastly pointed at Elijah and Dom, both slouched low in their chairs. "I know you two are fucking each other, so might as well let it out for the world to know, because I can't see how no one else notices it. Is everyone so fucking blind!?" He caught the attention of the make-up lady trying to sneak out of the door. "You! Get these damn things off me; I'm taking a sick leave, because I'm sick of being here right now!"



It was late in the evening, and he spent all his time doing nothing but sitting in the middle of the couch, nails digging into his scalp as if searching for an answer. The radio was blaring in the corner with what he guessed classical music, he actually didn't know, he wasn't listening. He just hated the silence.

The door slammed open, as an irritated figure stormed in, and in an instant, a shoe was chucked to the radio, making everything go quiet.

"What the fuck was that Billy?!" His figure loomed over him. "I'd like to know what the fuck is wrong with you?"

There was a catch in his own voice. Was it a sob? "I don't know." He replied, still never meeting those stormy eyes that were boring into him. "I don't know what is wrong with me! I don't understand."

"Then understand! Because you scared the shit out of everyone there and now there's these nasty rumors going around thanks to you."

His eyes watered and he felt his energy leave him. "I don’t know..." He whispered again.

Dom took a breath fighting his own anger, "And what are we, Billy? Fuck-buddies? Just friends who screw around when we're bored or horny? Dare I say the "L" word? What the hell are we? Because I'm just as confused as--"

"You don't know what its like to be confused!" His voice was cold, and tears stung his cheeks. "You have no right to be confused, because I'm sitting here pondering what my mental status is!"

"What are you saying, Billy?" Dom's glare softened.

"Don't you understand? I'm going fucking mental here! I'm hearing things, Dom! Whispers, that won't go away! Whispers that haunt me even now in my sleep! Whispers corrupting me saying that everyone is against me and I'm alone in this God forsaken world!" He looked up. "And it seems that they're right. I can tell you're ready to sock me one and leave, I know you too well, Dominic."

But before Dom could reply, there were more knocks on the front door as Peter stepped in with some people. "Billy?" He questioned.

"What!?" His jaded eyes wouldn't leave the tension's of Dom's. "Can't you people just leave me alone already?" He faced the scruffy man.

"We need to talk."

And with that, people Billy didn't exactly recognize managed to pry him out of the couch and drag him to the front door.

"Wait!" Dom shouted as Billy clawed at the shoulders of the two men carrying him off. "You were right, on one thing, though, Billy." It felt all surreal, ironically something you'd only see in a movie.

"I don't love you, and I am sleeping with..."



"NOOOO!" His shout echoed through the room as he bolted upright, and with a piercing pain through his head, convulsed backwards, head crashing into a feathered pillow.

"You finally woke." The voice was American.

Billy's eyes opened and met the questioning gaze of Viggo. "Wh-wh...Where am I?" His confusion grew as a hand placed across his forehead.

"I think your fever has finally decided to go down." He replied with a confident smile.

"Fever? You mean that was all just a dream?" Billy clutched Viggo's hand. "Please tell me it was!"

"Dream? I wouldn't call that a dream!" He chuckled, "You were having a bad case of a feverish nightmare, Billy! You had everyone worried when you collapsed outside of the bar, and then thrashing and carrying on in bed."

Billy sighed deeply with relieve. "Oh thank God!" He smiled. "It felt so real!"

"Ah, I hate those." Viggo began to rise. "I'll get Dom for you, since it took all my efforts to keep him and the other hobbits of yours away."

Billy tried sitting up again, kicking the blankets away, and wiping the sweat from the bridge of his nose.

A minute later a knock sounded at the door. "Bet you want some water." It was Dom.

He cleared the glass, and met Dom's gaze. "What?"

"What were you dreaming? It seemed pretty intense, considering I've never seen you move about so much in sleep."

"Well..." He paused and was about to tell him everything. "Eh, nothing. Nothing in particular. All nonsense, really." He shrugged. "How long have I been asleep?"

"Since late last night to this afternoon." He was still watching Billy closely, eyes filled with concern.

"What?" Billy wanted to laugh at his pitiful expression. "It's not like I'm going mental."

"I know." Dom bent down and kissed his forehead. "I don't like watching you fight off something I couldn't help protect you from."

Billy smiled. "Wanker. You probably just wanted to take advantage of me."

He found himself taken by surprise as the glass fell out of his hand when arms wrapped around his still frail body. "What's the meaning of this?"

"I don't want you sick ever again! I promise to watch after you more closely when you say you don't feel well!"

Billy laughed and wrapped his arms around him. "You can be such a sap, but I love you, Dom."

The nightmare was over, and by the next day, Billy was already feeling better.