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[savethedistress.livejournal.com]

Title: A Million Little Pieces

Summary: The young man came to the old man seeking counsel.
I broke something.
How badly is it broken?
It's in a million little pieces.
I'm afraid I cannot help you.
Why?
There's nothing I can do.
Why?
It can't be fixed.
Why?
It's broken beyond repair. It's in a million little pieces.

Author: savethedistress

Pairing: ...Monaboyd...yes...

Rating: PG-ish, I think.

Feedback: Eek. This is my first time posting anything I've written publicly... please don't be too-too harsh. *winces* I appreciate constructive criticism, though. Constructive criticism is rather delicious on toast.

Author's Notes: This is semi-based on the five senses. And when I say semi, I mean semi.



A Million Little Pieces
The young man came to the old man seeking counsel.
I broke something.
How badly is it broken?
It's in a million little pieces.
I'm afraid I cannot help you.
Why?
There's nothing I can do.
Why?
It can't be fixed.
Why?
It's broken beyond repair. It's in a million little pieces.

Dom is watching.

Dom is watching, and Billy is sitting. Sitting, and laughing, and joking... and she is there. Her.

Dom is watching and he is breaking.

He supposes, perhaps, this is his fault. Maybe he hadn’t been forward enough. Then again, everyone else seemed to know. Everyone except for the one person who needed to know. Dom closes his eyes, presses his fingers against his eyelids, simultaneously trying to burn the image in front of him into his memory, and erase it forever. He wondered if he could edit his memories; keep Billy in and take her right out of them.

For just a moment, Dom catches Billy’s eye. Sees something in it. A something that reflected Dom’s every feeling, just for an instant. And then it was gone. Maybe, it had never been there, and at this thought, Dom feels himself break. More than break, shatter. Shatter and fall. A million, tiny, once Dom-shaped pieces on the floor of the crowded restaurant.

Dom sighs, gets up from the table. Makes a hasty excuse and darts for the gent’s.


Billy is hearing.

Billy is hearing, but he isn’t listening. Half-immersed in conversation with her, he drifts in and out of a semi-catatonic state. He laughs, smiles, makes the right sympathetic noises at the right sympathetic times, but he isn’t truly paying attention.

Billy isn’t listening, because he is watching.

Not as avidly as Dom, but he sneaks glances across the table, wondering. He notices, if barely, that Dom is watching, too. Glancing up for just a moment, he meets Dom’s eyes. Sees a glimpse, a shard, perhaps, of something unguarded. Something that throws his psyche across the room, into the wall, and beats it with something heavy and blunt. Billy is caught, suspended. He breaks the gaze. He doesn’t realize what else he’s breaking.

Billy is watching, watching with feigned disinterest as Dom excuses himself. A few minutes later, he himself gets up.


Dom is breathing.

Dom is breathing. Inhale, exhale. Exhale, inhale. Trying to regain his composure. He’s trying to remember something about breathing. It’s important, he knows. Inhale, exhale. Exhale, inhale.

He leans his forehead against the mirror, looks himself in the eyes. Inhale, exhale. Exhale, inhale. Silently, he reprimands himself.

When he is startled out of his reverie, it is not so much by a noise, as by a scent. The distinctive scent of Billy, he knows it all too well. Better than he should, perhaps. Something earthy, with a slight hint of...mint? No, that’s not right... it’s much too singular to be compared to another word. Dom breathes in deep. Inhale, exhale. Exhale, inhale. Prepares himself to turn around.

Dom is shocked to feel two arms wrapping around his waist.


Billy is feeling.

Billy is feeling, touching, absorbing. He tries to soak Dom in through his pores, through his skin. He feels every muscle of Dom’s body tense as he turns around. Dom is facing Billy, and within an instant the two are intertwined. Arms interlocking, gazes straining for each other.

Dom is seeing, reaching with his eyes into the depths of Billy’s soul and pulling. He pulls, strand by strand, each feeling. Reads Billy just through his eyes, and Billy can feel it.

The two sense each other. They feel and live, holding each other oh-so tightly, not wanting to let go.

Suddenly, Billy is looking, and Dom is looking, and everything changes.


They are tasting.

They are tasting, their lips suddenly seem to mold to each other. Billy parts his lips gently, trying to absorb the truth through Dom’s mouth. Dom tastes strongly of spice, of zest, of lemons and sunshine and a burst of bright. Billy tastes solid, but soft. He tastes of grass, of green, damp and maybe even a trace of smoke. Together, the tastes are harmony.

It’s a rush of sensations, the two together, eyes closed, lips locked, tasting, trying, testing the other. There’s a feeling, a sort of high. A reaching.


Together, they are leaving.

Together, they are leaving, clinging to one another, all others forgotten. And now, together, they are realizing. Separate realizations.

Billy is realizing her. He is realizing and wondering and hoping he will know what to do.

Dom is realizing he was wrong all along. Holding himself steady in Billy’s gaze, he feels a million little pieces slowly coming back together, growing and shaping into something new. The million little pieces, can’t be repaired, he knows, but they can be recreated, morphed, and turned into something far more worth the effort.

When they return, she is gone.