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monaboyd Jan. 11th, 2004 01:31 am)
perfect-oasis.livejournal.com posting in monaboyd Jan. 11th, 2004 01:31 am)Title: Destructive Sparks, Part 1/4
Author: The Phantom Writer![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
silentnumbsmoke
Pairing: DM/BB
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: *sigh* Neither the hobbits nor the elf are mine, unfortunately. Damn, I wish I had Dom.
Feedback: Oh, yesh, please! But... please no flames.
Warning: Angst; deals with suicide.
Notes: This fic not only has Dom/Billeh, but Orli and Lijah play pretty big roles as well. Thanks toairlia_vega for beta-ing!
Elijah’s eyes were wide. “He’s going crazy, Orli, honestly. Absolutely nutters.”
A cocked eyebrow. “Dom? Mental? Oh, c’mon, Lij, he and Billy are only pullin’ yer leg again, and you’re falling for it.” He let out a slight chuckle – Elijah always took things so fucking seriously!
“No, Orli, nuh-uh. Not this time.” Lit from the light of a distant lamp, Elijah’s eyes shone sincerity.
There was a sigh of resignation. “What’s he doing?”
Taking that as a sign that he was no longer disbelieved, Elijah plopped down in the seat next to Orlando, letting out a stage whisper, obviously used only for dramatic purposes – anyone in the room with them, if there were anyone, would be able to hear Elijah perfectly. “He’s got that fire in his eyes. Y’know, like during the ‘splinter incident?’”
Orlando remembered it perfectly. That was not a good day at all. That morning, before Billy had arrived at the trailer to get his feet glued on, Dominic had gotten a call. A friend from his childhood (so long ago now, it seems) had died. Leukemia. Amazingly for all observers of the phone call, Dom didn’t shed any tears. Instead, he looked… numb. The normal spark in his eyes had died. That charming spark, which so many had taken for granted, didn’t make an appearance for two weeks. Even then the visit was short-lived. A few hours after Billy had arrived and everyone’s prosthetics had been glued on, they went straight to work. Only Elijah, Sean and Orlando knew of Dom’s bad news. As soon as a ‘cut’ had been called, Merry’s exuberant grin was reported missing and the new dent in the wall of the soundstage let everyone know that something was up; what, they didn’t know.
Poor, unsuspecting Billy. He seemed to miss all the crucial moments that day. He’d missed the original phone call, and, as he ran as fast as his hobbit legs could carry him to the toilet, he missed the wall-denting as well. Therefore, he knew nothing of Dom’s loss of friend and feeling. Billy returned just in time to see Sean following in Dom’s footsteps with a first aid kit, rambling that he should mend his bleeding hand. Dom ignored him, although he was no longer numb – not to the physical pain. He cradled his bleeding right hand in his left, unable to stop his shaking (which came from a mix of the pains: physical and emotional).
Aware only of his best friend’s external wound, Billy tried to do what he did best: make people smile. “Dom!” He ran over with the look of feigned concern. “What’s wrong; have you got a splinter?” He began to grin, but it faltered quickly at Dominic’s reaction.
Dom stopped moving abruptly. He set his jaw and closed his eyes. When they opened again the spark in his eyes (with all charming qualities absent) had returned … and ignited. The flames would scorch anyone who came near, and it seemed he wanted it that way. Leaning towards Billy, he let out a harsh whisper. “There’s no bloody splinter this time,” he ended with the severest tone yet, “mate.” With that, he had stalked off towards Peter who was chatting genially with Viggo, whispered something to the director, waited for a responding nod, and disappeared.
He returned ten minutes later, the fire gone, leaving behind no spark – only smoke. Silent, numb smoke.
Needless to say, Dominic didn’t go out after filming that night.
“Yeah, of course I remember it, Lij.” Orlando couldn’t help but sigh. Dom didn’t seem the type, but when he was down, he was fucking all-the-way-to-the-bottom-of-the-barrel depressed. It wasn’t like Elijah, who was ‘depressed’ when someone stole his ciggies. No. When Dom got depressed, everyone knew about it. Not because he declared it in need of sympathies. No, quite the opposite. When Dom got depressed, he avoided. Avoided people, mainly. Which is why everyone was aware each time he was down. Orlando was beginning to observe that Dom not only avoided people, he avoided food, yet welcomed drink. Alcoholic drink, to be specific.
A stomach empty of food yet full of booze. Not the best thing in the world, which is why Billy, being consciously observant, announced a slumber party at Dom’s place. He didn’t give Dominic any warning that they were all going to show up, which could’ve been disastrous, but what else could they do? If they told Dom ahead of time, he would’ve attempted to convince them that he already had plans – Orli knew, this had happened a few nights before.
“So… what’s he doin’?”
“Going insane, I told you!”
Orli let out a deep breath. He loved Elijah, he really did, but… sometimes… Oy. Sometimes he was a little dense. “In what way?”
“He looks like he’s on the verge of murder.”
“Murdering whom?”
“Anyone and everyone.”
“Fucking hell!”
Orlando’s head snapped up at the scream from the other room. “Bloody…” In a second he was on his feet and heading towards the doorway at full speed, Elijah stepping on his heels the entire way.
He found what he least expected.
After Elijah’s mutterings about murder and such, Orlando had half expected to find Dominic with a knife to Billy’s throat. It had been Billy’s scream, he realized (that does make sense, he told himself later; it was a rather girlish scream) as soon as he entered and saw Billy, sitting on Dom’s chest. Normally, he was merely smirk and push it aside as the couple’s flirting, but this time it was different.
Everything was different.
Billy’s green eyes, normally bright with excitement for everything, were wide with fright.
Usually when in this position, Billy’s hands were mussing Dom’s hair or tickling or stroking. This time, his hands gripped on tight to Dom’s arms: forcibly tight.
Dom’s arms were usually pale. They looked unusually pale now, contrasting to the blood that usually didn’t cover his inner wrists.
Author: The Phantom Writer
silentnumbsmokePairing: DM/BB
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: *sigh* Neither the hobbits nor the elf are mine, unfortunately. Damn, I wish I had Dom.
Feedback: Oh, yesh, please! But... please no flames.
Warning: Angst; deals with suicide.
Notes: This fic not only has Dom/Billeh, but Orli and Lijah play pretty big roles as well. Thanks to
airlia_vega for beta-ing!Elijah’s eyes were wide. “He’s going crazy, Orli, honestly. Absolutely nutters.”
A cocked eyebrow. “Dom? Mental? Oh, c’mon, Lij, he and Billy are only pullin’ yer leg again, and you’re falling for it.” He let out a slight chuckle – Elijah always took things so fucking seriously!
“No, Orli, nuh-uh. Not this time.” Lit from the light of a distant lamp, Elijah’s eyes shone sincerity.
There was a sigh of resignation. “What’s he doing?”
Taking that as a sign that he was no longer disbelieved, Elijah plopped down in the seat next to Orlando, letting out a stage whisper, obviously used only for dramatic purposes – anyone in the room with them, if there were anyone, would be able to hear Elijah perfectly. “He’s got that fire in his eyes. Y’know, like during the ‘splinter incident?’”
Orlando remembered it perfectly. That was not a good day at all. That morning, before Billy had arrived at the trailer to get his feet glued on, Dominic had gotten a call. A friend from his childhood (so long ago now, it seems) had died. Leukemia. Amazingly for all observers of the phone call, Dom didn’t shed any tears. Instead, he looked… numb. The normal spark in his eyes had died. That charming spark, which so many had taken for granted, didn’t make an appearance for two weeks. Even then the visit was short-lived. A few hours after Billy had arrived and everyone’s prosthetics had been glued on, they went straight to work. Only Elijah, Sean and Orlando knew of Dom’s bad news. As soon as a ‘cut’ had been called, Merry’s exuberant grin was reported missing and the new dent in the wall of the soundstage let everyone know that something was up; what, they didn’t know.
Poor, unsuspecting Billy. He seemed to miss all the crucial moments that day. He’d missed the original phone call, and, as he ran as fast as his hobbit legs could carry him to the toilet, he missed the wall-denting as well. Therefore, he knew nothing of Dom’s loss of friend and feeling. Billy returned just in time to see Sean following in Dom’s footsteps with a first aid kit, rambling that he should mend his bleeding hand. Dom ignored him, although he was no longer numb – not to the physical pain. He cradled his bleeding right hand in his left, unable to stop his shaking (which came from a mix of the pains: physical and emotional).
Aware only of his best friend’s external wound, Billy tried to do what he did best: make people smile. “Dom!” He ran over with the look of feigned concern. “What’s wrong; have you got a splinter?” He began to grin, but it faltered quickly at Dominic’s reaction.
Dom stopped moving abruptly. He set his jaw and closed his eyes. When they opened again the spark in his eyes (with all charming qualities absent) had returned … and ignited. The flames would scorch anyone who came near, and it seemed he wanted it that way. Leaning towards Billy, he let out a harsh whisper. “There’s no bloody splinter this time,” he ended with the severest tone yet, “mate.” With that, he had stalked off towards Peter who was chatting genially with Viggo, whispered something to the director, waited for a responding nod, and disappeared.
He returned ten minutes later, the fire gone, leaving behind no spark – only smoke. Silent, numb smoke.
Needless to say, Dominic didn’t go out after filming that night.
“Yeah, of course I remember it, Lij.” Orlando couldn’t help but sigh. Dom didn’t seem the type, but when he was down, he was fucking all-the-way-to-the-bottom-of-the-barrel depressed. It wasn’t like Elijah, who was ‘depressed’ when someone stole his ciggies. No. When Dom got depressed, everyone knew about it. Not because he declared it in need of sympathies. No, quite the opposite. When Dom got depressed, he avoided. Avoided people, mainly. Which is why everyone was aware each time he was down. Orlando was beginning to observe that Dom not only avoided people, he avoided food, yet welcomed drink. Alcoholic drink, to be specific.
A stomach empty of food yet full of booze. Not the best thing in the world, which is why Billy, being consciously observant, announced a slumber party at Dom’s place. He didn’t give Dominic any warning that they were all going to show up, which could’ve been disastrous, but what else could they do? If they told Dom ahead of time, he would’ve attempted to convince them that he already had plans – Orli knew, this had happened a few nights before.
“So… what’s he doin’?”
“Going insane, I told you!”
Orli let out a deep breath. He loved Elijah, he really did, but… sometimes… Oy. Sometimes he was a little dense. “In what way?”
“He looks like he’s on the verge of murder.”
“Murdering whom?”
“Anyone and everyone.”
“Fucking hell!”
Orlando’s head snapped up at the scream from the other room. “Bloody…” In a second he was on his feet and heading towards the doorway at full speed, Elijah stepping on his heels the entire way.
He found what he least expected.
After Elijah’s mutterings about murder and such, Orlando had half expected to find Dominic with a knife to Billy’s throat. It had been Billy’s scream, he realized (that does make sense, he told himself later; it was a rather girlish scream) as soon as he entered and saw Billy, sitting on Dom’s chest. Normally, he was merely smirk and push it aside as the couple’s flirting, but this time it was different.
Everything was different.
Billy’s green eyes, normally bright with excitement for everything, were wide with fright.
Usually when in this position, Billy’s hands were mussing Dom’s hair or tickling or stroking. This time, his hands gripped on tight to Dom’s arms: forcibly tight.
Dom’s arms were usually pale. They looked unusually pale now, contrasting to the blood that usually didn’t cover his inner wrists.
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From:
no subject
I was all prepared to be a bit cranky about this fic, I will be honest and tell you that, beacause I thought this was the end of it, in which case I would have been very dissatisfied with it. But then I noticed by way of a mutual lj friend
:)
I think this is a great start, and do hope you have the other parts up. Also, on
Otherwise, while this is a touchy topic for some, I salute your guts to tackle it. :)
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no subject
*trumpets blare* I have an announcement!
Destructive Sparks has 4 parts. *nods*
Okay, all is right with the world now.
Thanks! *salutes your guts right back... just 'cause.*
*runs to edit the post*
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Oh, and... Sorry, I completely forgot before (but I've changed it now!) -- this was only part 1 out of 4. Three more chapters to go; it won't need a sequel then. :)
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Poor Dom - and poor hobbitsandOrli.
*sits on edge of seating hoping for happier developments*
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You better rescue him for me. ::scowls::
I mean....good fic. :) I'm so afraid for Dom! ::anticipates next part::
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Umm... *scowls back... just for fun* Heheh. Yay.
The next part'll be up pretty soon! :)
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Must have more!!!
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