New fic

[dani-grl4.livejournal.com]

Title: Surrender
Author: dani_grl4
Pairing: Dom/Billy
Rating: R
Disclaimer: If it is true, I don't know about it. Purely from my overactive imagination.
Feedback: Is really kind and I adore it.
Warning: Angst. Naughty language.
Summary: I had this idea a while ago to write a fic that centers around all the media clips and pics of Billy and Dom that seem to tell a certain story, if one wants to see it. This chapter takes place after an ROTK junket interview with the E! channel. All quotes are from the actual interview. If you haven't seen it yet, you should.
A/N: I was going to wait until I finished writing If I Die to start this new one, but decided to enter shanalle's Two Line Challenge and incorporate my two lines into the prologue for this instead. I was assigned the lines: 'Whatever words I say, I will always love you.' from The Cure's Lovesong. Thanks to the lovely shanalle for organising the challenge. And finally, tons of hugs and love to canciona for the awesome beta job here and for her general encouragement.



Chapter 1

Billy opens the door leading to the car park with more force than is necessary. He’s immediately greeted by the blinding sun of a typical L.A. afternoon and notes the dull throbbing that's beginning in his temples. But the bright sun isn't to blame for the increasing ache in his head. Billy had gone too far in the interview; so much so that he knew it at the time, and didn't care enough to stop. It was as though he couldn't quite help himself. He stops midway to his rental car as he recalls the comment that had escaped his lips before he could check it, and subsequently set the stage for an awkward afternoon.

“You broke my heart. You did. You did.”

Christ, and that was before the interview had even begun properly. He tries to shake the memory off just long enough to get to his car, silently cursing himself.

“Ach, everyone will assume it was a joke. That’s how Dom and I are…it's what everyone expects, anyway,” Billy assures himself. He digs in his pocket for the car keys, hoping to sneak away before Dom can catch him up. He’ll use the old jet-lag excuse, if need be, to bugger off to the confines and safety of his hotel room.

Alone.

And yet he knows that once he gets there, more memories of this horrid interview will torture him until he goes completely mental – a more than likely possibility. It's a lose-lose situation, really, when Billy thinks about it. As if he could stop thinking about it.

“Don’t hold my hand.”

Actually, he had simultaneously wanted Dom to hold his hand at that moment, and yet…not. That pretty much describes how he’s felt about Dom for a while now. He wants Dom to ring him, but then he doesn’t want him to. He wants to see Dom, but then, he doesn’t. Because as much as he misses Dom’s company, it’s painful to be near him. Since Dom let him go, anyway, which is the way Billy would describe what happened between them. Dom let him go when he didn't want to be let go. And even though Billy has someone in his life now that is special in her own way, he can’t quite cure the loneliness. Because he’s settling for a life that's barely satisfying, when what he wants is a life that's exhilarating. Ali sees it, since clearly Billy’s emotions aren’t as in check as he’d like them to be anymore. The one thing she can do, though, that Dom cannot at the moment, is keep Billy somewhat sane, somewhat comforted. Somewhat loved. And she has done for a long, long time now, and it has been anything but easy.

He finally manages to extract his keys from the confines of his trousers, but instead of hauling his arse out of there, he rests his forehead to the hood of the car. It burns, having been out in the hot sun for hours, but the pain provides something else to think of. Though sadly, not for long enough.

“He'll know I was being mostly serious,” he says to himself. Billy wants to cringe in disgust. Yes, Dom would have known exactly what he was talking about then, and it doesn’t matter if everyone else thinks the whole thing was a joke. Dom will have heard what Billy was really saying, loud and clear.

“I can't stop loving him,” Billy admits quietly, still leaning on the hot metal of the car. And while he definitely did not say that in the interview, precisely, (did he?) he may as well have. Even Dom’s hair problems half-way into the interview, which could have been the basis for some friendly, hilarious piss-taking on his part, had turned into yet another moment which, in retrospect, makes Billy’s face blush crimson.

“Am I having hair problems? Why didn’t you tell me?!”
“Well I didn’t notice! I was taken by your eyes.”

God, why did he have to say those things in public? On the bloody E! channel, for millions to see. To have on tape, commemorated for all eternity. He’d sounded like a pissy girlfriend through most of the rest of it, the kind that makes her boyfriend jump through hoops to convince her of his love. Which, of course, said boyfriend could never do. Billy wonders what the chances are of the interview footage somehow becomming inadvertently “misplaced”.

He’s testing Dom; he has no other choice but to admit that. But why, what’s the point? Billy has been here with Dom a thousand times, revisited this very same topic only to be told it can’t work, not now anyway, in more or less those words. Despite falling helplessly in love, and being told that he was loved more than anything else in return, it did not work. Somehow, it had ended before Billy had a chance to really enjoy it. Before it had ever really begun.

“I said I would drop him ‘like an oily rag’. Bleeding Christ,” Billy moans out loud as more of what he said in the last half hour comes screaming back. He lifts his head from the roof of the car, absently touching his fingers gingerly to the burn he’s sure he has on his forehead now. Brilliant.

He gets in – finally – and rolls down the window to let out some of the stifling heat.

Wait, didn’t he also ask if Dom liked him the best while Dom was (rightfully) pointing out that all the members of the Fellowship had plans to do future projects together? Billy is afraid that yes, indeed, he did ask.

“Do you like me the best?”
“Yeah, you’re my favourite.”
“Yeah.”

Billy had been so satisfied to hear that, as though it really meant something. What the hell else was Dom supposed to say when put on the spot like that? ‘No, actually, Billy, Viggo is my favourite’? Billy’s almost certain there had been the slightest hint of annoyance in Dom’s voice and a look of exasperation at that point, despite Dom’s affirming words. Considering some of the other things Billy had said before then, he isn’t surprised.

If they had words about this later - and Billy’s sure that they will - it wouldn’t be the first time that he and Dom argued over things said in an interview. Things that no one else would really think about too much. Things that the public would assume was simply playful banter between two close mates. But these same things occasionally contained messages to the other that conveyed a lot more than playful repartee. Sometimes for good; other times it was very bad indeed.

And the boundaries for each of them are habitually different. More often than not, Dom is the one who goes too far. Occasionally he says things that give Billy false hope, and Billy shuts down on him afterwards because that isn’t fair, and Dom knows it. Dom then argues that he’d meant what he said; that he does love Billy. But that’s as far as it ever goes. Nothing more is ever said about that. Until the next time it happens.

Dom wasn’t completely innocent back there today either, Billy decides. Cheeky bastard had joked about Billy enticing him into bed. That was decidedly not platonic, no matter how playful Dom made it sound.

“I did play some guitar in New Zealand, yeah.”
“That’s how he managed to woo me into bed. With his G-string. Bing.”

Occasionally though, it’s Billy that goes too far, but not terribly often. Billy usually keeps himself under control, in public anyway, if not in private. Today was not one of those times. Maybe that’s why Dom wasn’t able to sit still for more than five seconds in a row throughout the entire interview, and why Dom had sounded annoyed with him. Dom will think that perhaps Billy was trying to make him feel guilty, or possibly that Billy is upset. But he isn’t exactly. The truth is, Dom did break his heart, so technically he was just being honest. The truth is that he still has feelings of more than a friendly nature towards Dom (good Lord, the understatement of the year). Billy doesn’t understand how he’s supposed to stop, remembering the time they did spend together; remembering how Dom made him feel when they were together.

It would appear that not seeing Dom for several weeks has made Billy lose a bit of control.

A bit?

Right then, Billy will have to apologise later.

He turns the key in the ignition, but before he can even contemplate manoeuvring his way out of the car park, he hears a familiar voice fast approaching his car. A familiar, very angry voice, at that.

“You, Billy Boyd, are nothing but a goddamn, bloody hypocrite, do you know that?”

Billy, puzzled, puts the car back into ‘park’. He’d expected Dom to be upset, perhaps, but not to call him a hypocrite. Where in the hell'd that come from?

“What?” Billy manages, looking up as Dom grips the driver's side door; the muscles in his forearms visibly tense and shaking from holding on so tight, as though daring Billy to drive away.

“All I fucking heard in New Zealand was about how it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks, it doesn’t matter if I’m accepted as an actor by Hollywood, as long as I was true to myself. Hollywood doesn't care about me, etcetera, etcetera. Didn’t you say that, Bill, hmm? Yet somehow, somefuckinghow, every time I turn on the goddamn telly, or open a magazine, or am sat next to you in an interview, you do nothing but go on an on about how much you love your girlfriend, how much you love women!”

Billy is speechless. He tried in vain to recall the last time he heard Dom yell. To recall the last time Dom yelled at him, specifically. He stares open-mouthed for a few seconds before managing to find his voice. “Don’t you dare, Dom. We both do that,” he says and turns to look out of the front windshield instead. He doesn’t want to fight because he knows just where this is going. It’s better if he can’t see Dom’s face, full of fury now, but also of vaguely concealed pity, Billy imagines.

“Damn you, Billy, look at me!”

Billy gets out of the car instead, startling Dom, who barely manages to back away from the door before Billy shoves it open. He knows that anyone listening in right now would be able to tell they’re in the middle of a heated argument. And wouldn’t that make good E! footage.

“Jesus, Dominic! I’m sorry if it’s a bit difficult for me to just pretend we’re the closest of mates all the time. Me with my girlfriend, you in love with, who was it you said back there? Elisha Cuthbert?”

“Don’t ‘Dominic’ me, like I’ve done something wrong. I didn’t say anything back there to hurt you! Billy, you do have a girlfriend, remember? What was I supposed to say?” He simply holds his hands out, as though he's at a loss for something else to say. Like he'd been backed into a corner, and had no choice but to say those things about being in love with Elisha Cuthbert, which Billy may very well privately admit to later. But not now.

“I have a girlfriend, Dom, because you ended things! I meant what I said back there. You did break my heart. You’re still breaking my heart.” Billy only manages to whisper the last sentence. He wishes for control over his voice. He knows Dom can hear it. Billy stares at the ground, hoping that Dom will just let him go, and forget what he just said. Forget everything he said today, in fact.

“Yet you said, and I quote, ‘I only have eyes for my girlfriend’. Amazing, that.”

Dom’s voice doesn’t sound much more disciplined than his own. But when Billy looks up to meet Dom’s gaze, it’s defiant, almost self-righteous. “Oh sod this,” Billy thinks.

“Fuck you, Dom. Go to hell,” Billy says, his voice very much under control now. He yanks the car door open and starts the engine before Dom can reach him again.

“You know Billy, I’m so fucking tired of you making me feel guilty for not wanting to be the new, young, gay Hollywood pin-up boy when you can’t resist any opportunity to exert your alleged heterosexuality.”

“That’s not what I’m doing, Dom, and no I don't want that for you. That isn't why I do it,” Billy says, shaking his head sadly. He stares determinedly ahead, his foot on the gas pedal, wishing Dom would let him drive away before his frustration and immense sadness become too overwhelming. But he knows Dom won’t do that, and as if to prove it, Dom leans into the car and uses one finger to gently, but purposefully turn Billy’s face towards him.

“Oh, no? So you’re telling me that you’re perfectly fine admitting in an interview that you and I are together? Tell me this then, Billy. Why haven’t you said it? Why am I the only one that needs to come out of the bloody closet?”

Dom’s words are cutting but his voice is gentle. Billy uses the same gentle voice to communicate his next carefully chosen words. “To hurt you.”

He looks Dom right in the eye as he says it, and he can see the physical recoil in his former lover’s face. Dom looks as though Billy’s words have actually punched him – hard. He stands up straight and takes a step back from the car, looking more betrayed than anything else. “You - you, Billy? You want to hurt me?”

“No!” Billy yells. He slams his hand on the steering wheel hard enough to cause a shooting pain up his arm. “No, I want you to hear me say those things and have it finally hit you that you can’t stand one more minute without me. And I would admit that I’m with you. I would do it in a second then, Dommie. But that never happens.” Billy fights to keep his emotions under control, not to become so easily overwhelmed. Not when he’s so close to getting away. “So instead it hurts you, and yes, maybe I have to settle for that because I’m fucking hurting too.”

Billy steps on the accelerator and drives away before Dom can respond. When he glances at the rear-view mirror he can see the familiar look of helplessness on Dom’s face and in the way his shoulders are slumped. He feels pretty damn helpless too right now.

*

Billy’s head is still throbbing, and although he knew that a bit of alcohol could make it worse, he’d decided there was a chance it could also make it better. It hasn’t, but it was worth a try, he reckons. He wants to forget about today entirely, and whether that means he gets completely drunk and passes out, then so be it. Unfortunately, he’s only drunk half a bottle of lousy beer because his heart just isn’t in it. Billy lays on the bed in his hotel room with a cool cloth soothing the burn on his head (his own stupid fault) as well as the tension in his head (partially Dom’s fault).

He isn’t remotely surprised when he hears a tentative knock at the door, though he was hoping it would have come some time tomorrow. Billy doesn’t really trust anything that might come out of his mouth today anymore.

Dom doesn’t wait for Billy to open the door all the way before inviting himself in (not that he needs an invitation, of course not) and settling on Billy’s bed.

“I’m so sorry, Bills. I had no right to yell at you like that,” Dom says. He looks over at Billy, who’s still holding the open door, trying to buy enough time to compose himself and apologise for his part in what went wrong today. Maybe for what's been wrong all along.

Billy shuts the door finally and walks over to the bed. They sit there for long minutes without saying a word but it's far from a comfortable silence. Dom turns his body to face Billy, but he’s staring at his rings, twisting them relentlessly around and around his slender fingers.

It’s Billy who breaks the tense silence in the end. “Do I…do I really make you feel guilty all the time, Dom?”

Dom chooses to ignore this question, either because Billy does make him feel guilty, or because he has something more important to say just now. Billy suspects it’s a little bit of both.

He stops fidgeting with his rings, though it looks like it takes some effort not to have something to hold on to as he looks at Billy. “I don’t want you to be in pain, Billy. Ever. When you’re in pain, I feel miserable. To know that I’m the one hurting you, it just tears me apart. You are such an important part of my life.”

Billy sighs and braces himself. He believes that’s true, but he also knows there are qualifications to those sentiments, nonetheless. “But?”

“No, Billy, there is no ‘but’ at the end of that sentence!” Dom stands up abruptly and paces around the room. Billy follows him with his eyes until he finally comes back around and positions himself right in front of Billy, kneeling, his face close enough that Billy can look right into his eyes. “That is a complete sentence, on it’s own, no disclaimer. I love you, Billy, full stop.”

There’s no point in getting his hopes up – again. Billy’s learned far too much from the past. So he tries a new tactic instead. “And what’s the second sentence then, Dommie?”

“Just…but.” Dom rests his forehead on Billy's knee.

“That’s not a sentence, that’s a word,” Billy points out. “What’s the rest, then?” He has no real desire to hear the rest and wishes he’d drunk more before Dom arrived.

A long - and Billy suspects somewhat profound - silence fills the room. Dom finally sits back down next to Billy and runs a hand continuously over his eyes. He looks utterly defeated. Billy is convinced that Dom has no intention of answering him, until he finally does. His voice isn’t more than a whisper, which Billy recognises is likely to mean that Dom is close to tears. It’s not something he enjoys seeing, and it just about breaks his heart, but it wouldn’t be the first time they had a conversation about the subject of ‘them’ that ended with one, or both of them, in tears.

“I’m not ready to finish it,” Dom manages. Billy has to strain to hear because Dom’s hands are now partially covering his face. Definitely close to tears. Billy didn’t want that. A part of him may have wanted to hurt Dom earlier, and he’s disgusted with himself for it. Now that he has, he wishes he could take it back.

“Well I'm afraid you’re going to have to finish it, Dom, because I don’t know what you’re trying to say.” He resists a tremendous urge to hold him. He can hear the exhaustion in his own voice, and it has nothing at all to do with jet-lag.

“Not the sentence, Bill. It isn’t the bloody sentence that I’m not ready to finish. I don’t want the possibility of us to finish.”

Billy looks at Dom then because he has to know, and he’s right, Dom is crying and he feels like a right bastard for starting this, effectively. Billy knew if he pushed hard enough he could get Dom to admit it, even though Dom hates saying it. It’s like rejecting Billy all over again when at the end of the day, they’re still not together.

He knows Dom will leave this room soon, and they will still be in the same place as before. Which is, as far as Billy’s concerned, stuck in this miserable situation, apart, instead of together, as they both seemingly want to be.

“Dom, you can’t keep doing this," Billy says in a voice much more calm than he feels inside. "One minute you’re telling me ‘I’m in love with you’ and the next minute you’re saying ‘I can’t do this, Billy.’ There is no middle ground with you; no compromise. No, ‘I love you and this is hard but you’re worth it, dammit, and I need you.’

To his surprise, Dom’s tears are flowing freely now. Dom moves off the bed and towards the door before Billy can reach him.

"Dommie, no. Don't leave. Not like this. Not again, I can't bear it," Billy pleads.

“Whatever words I say, I will always love you,” Dom sobs, before slipping quietly through the door.

He doesn’t feel his own tears start, but Billy is eventually sobbing as well, wondering how something that had felt so right not very long ago could make then both feel so profoundly horrible now.