I Will Follow You Into The Dark, Chapter One
Title: I Will Follow You into the Dark, Chapter One
Rating: NC-17 eventually, PG for now
Note: Please note the rating and acknowledge that you are accepting full responsibility for reading this. You have been warned.
Pairing: Bellamy/Howard
Summary: Sometimes, what we need most is what we least expect.
Disclaimer: I do not own any persons, places, themes, or elements in this; nor am I affiliated with the persons represented. Only the story is mine. No harm was intended by this.
Note: Buckle up, kiddos, this is going to be a long one.
I started working on this months ago, but put it aside because it felt a bit like walking into a job interview naked with all my bits hanging out. That being said, I bucked up and finished the majority of it after a little prodding from the lovely millionstar and dolce_piccante Also, my wifey told me once that she likes teen belldom, and of course I'm an attention whore where she's concerned.
That being said, I owe so many people thanks. ashamedbliss , for Britpicking, helping me with locale and even going so far as to give me pictures and a school schedule to help me out. This would NOT have been made without her help. To engel_sehnsucht for letting me ask her questions as well. Ladies, I know I was probably super vague (and probably even more random), so thank you so so much for your patience and support, it means more than you know.
To my boo shayunknown , who is the constant source of inspiration, support, and general sanity keeping. You are so much more than I could ever ask for. Thank you for all you are and for all you do, I don't deserve you, but I'm going to do my best to try.
When ballpointcrazy saw this, she asked me if she could illustrate it, and UM, HOLY HELL YES PLEASE! Seriously, this woman is so so talented, and I can't describe the feeling of seeing my story not only sketched, but BEAUTIFULLY rendered by someone as masterful as she is...it's just..nothing like it. So, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you.
And finally, to you. I hope that you enjoy this, because it's been a bit of a journey for me to write it. Thank you so much!
"I hate this fucking town!"
He vaguely heard the warning to watch his language that trailed after him as he stormed from the kitchen, stomping up the stairs and across the floor to his room. Dominic knew he was being ridiculous; that he was only being a drama queen as he slammed his door and threw himself onto the unmade bed and burrowed beneath the covers, but he couldn't help it. It seemed like every time his mum had her heart broken he had to pay the price for it.
And this time was much, much worse than the last time. After all of the fights - one of which turned violent, resulting in Dom suddenly face to face with a drunken boyfriend wielding a kitchen knife - his mum had decided that yet another "fresh start" would be the best thing for the two of them.
Only, instead of simply moving to the next borough like they'd done previously, his mum went and moved them like, a million miles away to some god-forsaken town in Suffolk where there were only trees and ruins. Well, maybe not a million miles away, but it certainly felt like it. Here, in these new surroundings, he knew no one, whereas before he'd at least been able to stay in the same school.
To make matters worse, his mother wouldn't let him give out their new number, and cheerfully informed him that he was to make new friends altogether when he persisted in his interrogations as to why.
Not that Dominic had many mates to offer their telephone number to - it was more that he was curious as to why his mother would relocate to such a place as this and insist that all contact with old friends and acquaintances be cut off. Whenever they had these types of conversations, Dom felt as though there was a ring of finality to all of it, and he felt quite uneasy.
In any case, they'd moved in nearly a fortnight ago, and Dominic hated it already. He missed London. He missed the busyness of it, the seemingly endless amount of activities it provided - especially in comparison to this hellhole.
The only thing that Bury St. Edmunds offered was a bowling alley that closed before the sun went down and a cinema - which would have been nice had Dominic had a mate to go with. As it stood, he hardly left their tiny house and the few times he had, it was to take his sketchpad out and draw random bits of scenery.
Add to all of this the fact that living in such a tiny town meant that he was now the proverbial outsider, and worse, he had to start school the next morning - well, it made for a waking nightmare.
Dominic had no preconceived ideas as to how life would be at his new school, nor did he have any real hopes for popularity. Being used to solitude, he found that there was a sort of peace to loneliness that he craved. As such, he'd never pursued the types of extracurricular activities that would propel him into school wide renown. Besides, if there had ever come a time in his life when he did wish for adoration from his peers, he could be certain that his home life would abruptly halt any success he might find.
His mum's notorious penchant for catastrophic relationships, as well as a few mishaps involving trysts with other students' fathers had pretty much paved the way to Dominic's seclusion - both academically and socially. No one wanted to hang out with the son of a psychotic slag, and it was extremely difficult to concentrate on classwork when you weren't sure who was whispering what about you, or if your mum would even be at home when you stepped through the door.
Though his mum was a bit irresponsible when it came to her love life, she had never been cruel or smotheringly sweet when it came to Dominic. She simply wasn't there.
For reasons unknown to Dominic, Sylvia Howard felt that her son needed to wear nice clothes and have expensive toys. He often suspected this was an excuse for his mother to be away from him, because she worked two jobs in London and was often dead on her feet by the time she stumbled through the door.
As fate - or irony, he was never sure which - would have it, Sylvia was only ever able to sustain two part-time jobs, which left her son wearing middle class clothing and with few toys and no one to play with. Dominic never complained, merely found ways to fill the needed maternal gaps on his own. Many days he stayed at home, pissing about on the computer or watching telly, but his joy came in the form of a pencil and a black, hardbound sketchpad.
While in London, their flat had been within walking distance of a park, which Dominic liked to visit after school in the afternoons. There, he would perch on one of the many scattered benches, observing the people who ambled past him, completely unaware of his watchful eye. Eventually, someone would catch his interest, and he would feverishly sketch them - making sure to get in all the essential details before they left, heading to wherever there next stop might be. Once he'd laid in the gestural lines of his drawing, he would go back and alter the image until he felt it an accurate representation.
Whatever world Dominic created within the white pages of his sketchbook could enthrall him for hours; sometimes keeping him so long that he would glance up to find the grounds emptying out and the guard calling out his final warning before he locked the gates.
But since their move to Bury - where Dominic's mum had transferred from her job at a Tesco store in London to the Tesco Express here - he found himself in her presence more than he was used to. It was a temporary thing, he knew, because she was constantly searching for a second job to help with the monthly payments of their house.
Even so, she seemed overbearing and omnipresent.
He'd look up from his self-served breakfast of cereal to find her standing over him, only moving on after dropping a kiss onto the crown of his head. As soon as he walked through the door from being outside or running errands, she was all over him asking about his day.
Then there was the time he was wanking and she'd knocked on his door under the pretense of needing his laundry. He shuddered at the memory, and slammed his eyes shut in an attempt to think about something else.
Right. School.
As he drifted off to sleep, Dom began to think that maybe a new school was more ideal than being stuck at home with a suddenly doting mum.
* * * * *
It felt as though he'd only just shut his eyes when the raucous sound of his alarm crashed into his dreams like a derailed train.
"Bollocks," he mumbled, slapping the snooze button before rolling back over and burying himself under blankets and pillows. "Five more minutes, just five more..."
Three cycles of slamming his fist onto the snooze button later, Dom's mum peeked her head into his door and caught his wrist as it descended on the much abused clock.
"Dommie," his mum whispered, playfully flicking at the top of his ear. When he only groaned, she grabbed a handful of duvet and ripped the covers off of him.
"Jeezus!" Dom yelled, hands falling to his crotch to hide his morning wood. Quickly, he rolled over, overestimating the space he had left on the mattress and toppling to the floor in a frenzy of flailing limbs. "Shit, Mum! Some privacy please?"
"Darling, you've got five minutes before you have to walk out the door or you'll be late for your first day."
"Alright! Okay!" Dom said, crawling to his knees but making sure to keep his lower body hidden behind the bed. "Just bloody go already!"
Sylvia gathered up her son's laundry as she pivoted on her heel to leave, only to pause at the door and grin devilishly at Dom over her shoulder. "At least one of us had a lovely dream last night."
"Mum!"
No sooner had she shut the door than Dom was on his feet, scrambling into his jeans and the nearest shirt he could find before tugging on some socks and stuffing his feet into his trainers.
He rushed through fixing his hair and swiping on deodorant, and he only brushed his teeth for two minutes as opposed to his regular five. By the time he sprinted out the door, a piece of toast clenched between his teeth, his mum was waiting for him in the car.
"Good timing, Dom!"
Dom's only response was to grin at her around his toast as he buckled in.
The drive to the school was short and silent, save for the occasional misplaced maternal worrying. ("Did you remember your books?" "Did you brush your teeth?" "Don't worry, love, you'll make loads of new friends!" "Fuck's sake, Dominic, get your feet off the dash!")
He thought he'd seen the worst of her newly acquired maternal impulses when he found a note tucked into his bag that he promptly discarded, but as they pulled into the car park of his new school, he found that he was wrong.
"Give me a kiss, love."
"Mum," Dom said, nostrils flared as if he'd smelled something rancid. "I love you and all, but there is no fucking way I'm kissing you in public."
"Language, Dommie," she sing songed, grinning when he sighed heavily and stepped out of the car.
A few steps later, he heard the sound of a car slowly creeping past him, followed by the motor of a window as it rolled down.
"I love you, little man!" his mum called, and his stomach plummeted to the ground. "And don't worry, popkins, I won't be home when you get there, so you can masturbate in peace!"
As Dominic stood stock still and listening to the sound of his mother's car as she left, he wondered just how much trouble he would get into if he skipped school altogether.
* * * * *
Later, Dom sat in the dining hall, lifting his unopened carton of juice and dropping it again onto his empty tray, repeating the action over and over again until the boy beside him leaned over and grabbed his wrist.
"Give it a rest, yeah?"
Even though it hadn't been said harshly, Dom's stomach twisted in embarrassment, the sentiment climbing the ladder of his ribcage to heat his chest.
"Yeah," Dom said quietly, slipping his hands into his lap to grip his knees. He hated being the new kid. "S-sorry."
The students of County Upper School had seemed nice enough, inviting him to sit with them and occasionally pausing in their endless chatter to ask him questions. Still, they weren't what he was used to, and he felt awkward whenever they would ask him how he ended up in their town. Usually he would just say that his mum had a new job and leave it at that. That seemed to pacify them more than when he said "personal issues."
He was casting his eyes over the cafeteria again, searching for something, anything to distract himself from the urge to get up and bolt.
All around him chatter swirled - bits and pieces of it snagging his interest - but for the most part he stayed silent. It was just as he was opening his mouth to answer yet another question from - Tom, was it? - when a flurry of activity caught his eye.
"Give it back, Bellamy. I know you took it and I want it back."
A tall, menacing-looking boy bent over a scrawny, animated mass of pale skin and gorgeous bone structure with a shock of unnaturally red hair who was grinning like a cat who'd finally caught his canary.
"I've no idea what you're talking about, man, so get the fuck out of my face."
"You know exactly what I'm talking about, and I want it back."
"Mr. Bellamy and Mr. Stedham," came a teacher's voice, "Stop this at once or it's to the office with you."
"Piss off," said the scrawny boy, using the tips of his fingers to lightly shove against the flustered man's chest. Dom heard the boy's high burst of maniacal laughter when the teacher grabbed his arm and began to tow him out of the cafeteria. Looking over his shoulder to waggle his eyebrows at his accuser, the petite boy was lifting his hand to make some sort of gesture when he caught sight of Dom.
Dom felt his stomach seize up, something weird bubbling around the edges when the red-headed boy grinned and winked - actually winked - at him before he was yanked away.
There were a few minutes of silence before the students resumed their chatter, going on with their lunch as if nothing happened, but Dominic found himself unable to tear his eyes from the spot where the boy had been.
"Who was that?" Dom asked Tom, who had already tucked back into his questionable looking pizza. He had tried to ask casually, as if he really didn't care, but his voice cracked in the middle of the question and blew his cover.
"That," he scowled, his mouth full of pepperoni and not bothering to hide it, "was Matt Bellamy."
It was left there, as if the name alone should clear things up. Dom raised his eyebrows, shaking his head and holding up his hands to signal he would have no idea who Matt Bellamy was.
Tom shoved his thick-rimmed glasses back up on his nose and swallowed before pointing a stubby finger in Dom's face and continuing. "Stay away from him. Bloke's a total freak."
"Oi!" came a voice from the other side of Tom. It was the tall bear of a boy who'd introduced himself earlier as Chris. "That's my cousin you're talking about there."
A small bud of hope bloomed in Dom's chest at the relationship, and he leaned forward to see Chris better.
"But yeah," Chris said, snorting a bit. "He is a total freak. Set the gym on fire last year, but they didn't press charges because he fucked the principal."
Dominic felt his cheeks growing hot and pressed his juice carton to the side of his face to hide the blush that was staining it.
"Seriously," Tom said, sucking noisily at the grease on his fingertips. "You're better off to stay far, far away from that twat."
"Oi!" Chris said again, making another reference to his relationship to the aforementioned twat, but Dominic could hardly concentrate, lost as he was in daydreams of sparkling blue eyes and a careless wink.
* * * * *
Over the next few lessons, Dominic found himself searching for the blue eyed boy he'd seen in the dining hall.
He knew it was foolish - and a bit girlish, if he were to be honest with himself - but he simply couldn't stop the compulsion to crane his neck whenever a flash of fuzzy red or pale, creamy skin tugged at the corner of his eye.
As if the blatant searching for Matt wasn't embarrassing enough, Dom was also a bit klutzy in his nerve-addled state.
Every time he thought he'd finally sighted the other boy, he would drop his folders, or trip over his own shoes; once he'd nearly run into a wall when a peal of high pitched laughter made his heart flip in his chest unexpectedly. Still, he had yet to see Matt, and he was beginning to think that he wouldn't ever see the other student again, save for whatever brief glimpses he could steal during lunch hours.
Great, I'm planning on stalking this bloke.
Finally, it was time for him to make his way to the last lesson of the day, English. He wasn't particularly excited about it, especially since he was positive at this point that there would be no gorgeous boy waiting for him to make an appearance.
Tom walked him from their Chemistry lesson - which he had been happy to learn they'd had together - chattering on about something Dom could hardly feign interest in. He kept peering around corners and standing on his tiptoes, hoping to see Matt just once more.
It occurred to him that perhaps this type of behavior could be considered creepy, so he began trying to be more participant in Tom's soliloquy.
"Well, here we are," Tom said, pausing out side a door and gesturing inside. "This is you."
"Right," Dom said, clutching the strap of the bag over his shoulder. It seemed to have grown heavier throughout the day, and the tender skin between his neck and shoulder screamed at him for relief. "Well then. Cheers."
The dark haired boy smiled and used a finger to push his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose. "Mr. Preston is a bit of a dick, mate. Thinks he's bloody Shakespeare or summat." Tom winked and turned to go, waving over his shoulder and calling, "Have fun, yeah?"
With a sinking feeling, Dom stepped into the classroom, meeting the eyes of the man at the head of the class, who promptly waved him over. Mr. Preston.
The teacher was perfectly suited for his job as far as stereotypes go. Tall and thin with hawkish features, it appeared as if Mr. Preston had rolled off of a bookshelf coated in dust before coming in to college. His brown trousers and vest looked as though they might have been beige at some point, and his tweed jacket was surely the hand me down of his great-great-great-great-great late grandfather.
The only vaguely nice things on his person were the small, rimless spectacles that dangled from the collar of the button up shirt beneath his vest and the highly polished shoes on his feet. However presentable his attire may have been, it was certain that no one would notice - his face was far more distracting.
Thick, unruly brows stayed furrowed over black, beady eyes and a beak like nose while his lips were reminiscent of a carnival caricature in their disproportionate largeness. Add to that the fact that his hairline receded to the crown of his head, and it was no wonder he seemed so angry.
"Mr. Howard, I take it?" the teacher asked, his voice high and cracked like the pages of an ancient novel. With long fingers he smoothed back a wisp of his shoulder length, salt and pepper hair as he waited for an answer.
"Yes, sir," Dom said, his face warming. He dropped his eyes to stare at imaginary debris on his shoes, shuffling his weight from foot to foot nervously. Desperately, he hoped that he wouldn't have to be introduced to the class, as had been the custom in most of the primary schools he'd been transferred to in the past.
But this was, for all intents and purposes, sixth form, so he felt optimistic - if only a little bit.
"Yes, well," Mr Preston continued, "I have no more copies of the book we're studying, but I feel confident you can share with Mr. Bellamy as you'll be sitting with him. Other than that, you'll need a notebook to answer study questions for today."
Dom's head popped up, mouth falling open as he searched the room until his gaze landed on one red haired, blue eyed boy at the back of the class, poring over what appeared to be a textbook. He barely registered Mr. Preston's continued instructions, grinning as he was in the wake of his stroke of luck.
Fucking finally.
His triumph only lasted for a moment, though, because he realized that if he was to be sitting next to Matt, he would eventually have to talk to Matt - something he wasn't particularly gifted at. In fact, if he remembered correctly, the last boy he fancied ended up having to endure several bad jokes and a slap to the face when Dom tried to shake his hand.
Shit.
"Go on, then," said the teacher with a dismissive wave of his wrist, and Dom was on his way.
Nerves constricted his lungs as he dug into the furthest depths of his brain for something cool or witty to say to Matt once he'd taken his place at their table.
"Hello."
Dom glanced up at the other boy, who was smiling at him toothily, his textbook laying open on the table with a magazine tucked into its folds. A magazine with a nearly naked bloke on its cover, wearing only frilly ladies underwear that rode low on his arse. He had a fist knotted seductively into his own hair while he looked over his shoulder, full lips parted and glistening.
"Literature," Matt said with a cheeky wink. Quickly, he shut the hefty book and shoved it to the side before thrusting a hand out at Dom. "I'm Matt, by the way."
"Dom," said the blond, gripping the other boy's hand feebly. He set his bag on the floor and pulled out the extra chair, plopping down into it.
"You look a bit familiar," Matt said suddenly, eyes narrowing as he took Dom in. Dom resisted the strong urge to cover his face with his hands as those baby blues casually swept over his frame. Suddenly, Matt's face lit up and he sat back in his chair, grinning that crooked, snaggle toothed grin that stole the solidity of Dom's knees. "That's right! You were watching my row with Jack!"
"Yeah," he said, rubbing at the back of his neck with the palm of his hand. "What was that about anyway?"
"He thinks I nicked his spliff."
Dom started, eyes flying open wide as he turned to the other boy, who seemed to be studying him for a response. "Did you?"
"Who, me?" Matt asked, feigning innocence. Dom didn't have to check himself in a mirror to know that the grin splitting his face was goofy looking when Matt winked at him yet again.
With a clearing of his throat, Mr. Preston called the class to order.
The sound startled Dom, who had been so wrapped up in the small, beautiful boy next to him that he hadn't seen the other students filing in to fill empty seats. With great effort, he dragged his eyes away from Matt and to the teacher.
Everyone around him began to pull out their books and notebooks, and Dom found himself distracted when Matt began to do the same. It amazed Dom how the boy could make something as basic and simplistic as pulling a zipper look liquid and graceful.
Tearing his eyes away from those long, nimble fingers, Dom looked up to find Matt watching him, a bemused little smirk on his face. Blushing furiously, he forced his gaze away from the other boy and to the front of the classroom.
Don't gawk at him, you idiot.
It was the thought that became his mantra throughout the entire lesson.
As soon as he'd learned their task for the day - read chapter two of The Catcher in the Rye and answer the provided study questions - he settled in to listen to his classmates as they were called on during the discussion time.
Dom tried to pay attention, truly he did, but he kept finding his attention pulled over to Matt's skin, kept stealing little glances at the other boy's lips. For the most part Matt seemed oblivious, and for that small favor he was absurdly grateful.
It wasn't until the teacher dismissed himself to take a call, instructing the students to work begin their homework that Dom's luck had finally run out.
Only able to feign interest in his studying for a short time, Dom looked over and into shimmering blue eyes, at once nearly overcome. He felt that if he just leaned forward, he could fall into their endless depths and drown. He didn't realize that he had actually moved, pressing their outer thighs together and drifting closer until..
"Dom?"
"Huh?"
"If you try to snog me in class I will stab you in the throat with a pencil."
"I wasn't trying to snog you!" Dominic cried, jumping back as if he'd touched a live wire. He felt his face heat treacherously as he fumbled for an excuse. "I...I just ...I wanted to see the answer to number five."
Matt grinned, a crooked, cheeky little thing that sent Dominic's heart skittering in his chest. "The last time a bloke claimed he was trying to cheat off my paper we ended up shagging in the loo."
Cheeks aflame once more, Dominic scooted back to his side of the table, saying nothing more until the bell rang.
* * * * *
Later that evening, Dominic sat at his kitchen table, wondering why the only thing he could think about was the flash of scarlet in Matt's hair, or the twinkling of blue beneath thick, dark lashes.
After nearly a quarter of an hour of staring into space over his textbooks, he finally reached into his bag and pulled out his sketchpad, along with his little plastic bag of pencils. He sucked in a deep breath, forcing himself to clear his thoughts before he placed the lead to the paper.
Time seemed to soften around the edges while he worked, bottom lip snagged between his teeth and an extra pencil tucked behind his ear, the only sound in the kitchen the puffs of his breath. He could feel himself relaxing into the exercise, letting his hand guide his movements and dictate the outcome.
Eventually, his pencil stilled, and he stared at the page in front of him, mouth agape in shock.
His drawing seemed to scream back at him from the crinkled parchment he'd sketched on, and he rubbed at his cheek absently as he studied what was effortlessly becoming his obsession. Long, spindly fingers, splayed out and as detailed as if he'd spent decades studying them as opposed to one lesson of stealing covert, seconds long glances.
Shit.
Rating: NC-17 eventually, PG for now
Note: Please note the rating and acknowledge that you are accepting full responsibility for reading this. You have been warned.
Pairing: Bellamy/Howard
Summary: Sometimes, what we need most is what we least expect.
Disclaimer: I do not own any persons, places, themes, or elements in this; nor am I affiliated with the persons represented. Only the story is mine. No harm was intended by this.
Note: Buckle up, kiddos, this is going to be a long one.
I started working on this months ago, but put it aside because it felt a bit like walking into a job interview naked with all my bits hanging out. That being said, I bucked up and finished the majority of it after a little prodding from the lovely millionstar and dolce_piccante Also, my wifey told me once that she likes teen belldom, and of course I'm an attention whore where she's concerned.
That being said, I owe so many people thanks. ashamedbliss , for Britpicking, helping me with locale and even going so far as to give me pictures and a school schedule to help me out. This would NOT have been made without her help. To engel_sehnsucht for letting me ask her questions as well. Ladies, I know I was probably super vague (and probably even more random), so thank you so so much for your patience and support, it means more than you know.
To my boo shayunknown , who is the constant source of inspiration, support, and general sanity keeping. You are so much more than I could ever ask for. Thank you for all you are and for all you do, I don't deserve you, but I'm going to do my best to try.
When ballpointcrazy saw this, she asked me if she could illustrate it, and UM, HOLY HELL YES PLEASE! Seriously, this woman is so so talented, and I can't describe the feeling of seeing my story not only sketched, but BEAUTIFULLY rendered by someone as masterful as she is...it's just..nothing like it. So, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you.
And finally, to you. I hope that you enjoy this, because it's been a bit of a journey for me to write it. Thank you so much!
"I hate this fucking town!"
He vaguely heard the warning to watch his language that trailed after him as he stormed from the kitchen, stomping up the stairs and across the floor to his room. Dominic knew he was being ridiculous; that he was only being a drama queen as he slammed his door and threw himself onto the unmade bed and burrowed beneath the covers, but he couldn't help it. It seemed like every time his mum had her heart broken he had to pay the price for it.
And this time was much, much worse than the last time. After all of the fights - one of which turned violent, resulting in Dom suddenly face to face with a drunken boyfriend wielding a kitchen knife - his mum had decided that yet another "fresh start" would be the best thing for the two of them.
Only, instead of simply moving to the next borough like they'd done previously, his mum went and moved them like, a million miles away to some god-forsaken town in Suffolk where there were only trees and ruins. Well, maybe not a million miles away, but it certainly felt like it. Here, in these new surroundings, he knew no one, whereas before he'd at least been able to stay in the same school.
To make matters worse, his mother wouldn't let him give out their new number, and cheerfully informed him that he was to make new friends altogether when he persisted in his interrogations as to why.
Not that Dominic had many mates to offer their telephone number to - it was more that he was curious as to why his mother would relocate to such a place as this and insist that all contact with old friends and acquaintances be cut off. Whenever they had these types of conversations, Dom felt as though there was a ring of finality to all of it, and he felt quite uneasy.
In any case, they'd moved in nearly a fortnight ago, and Dominic hated it already. He missed London. He missed the busyness of it, the seemingly endless amount of activities it provided - especially in comparison to this hellhole.
The only thing that Bury St. Edmunds offered was a bowling alley that closed before the sun went down and a cinema - which would have been nice had Dominic had a mate to go with. As it stood, he hardly left their tiny house and the few times he had, it was to take his sketchpad out and draw random bits of scenery.
Add to all of this the fact that living in such a tiny town meant that he was now the proverbial outsider, and worse, he had to start school the next morning - well, it made for a waking nightmare.
Dominic had no preconceived ideas as to how life would be at his new school, nor did he have any real hopes for popularity. Being used to solitude, he found that there was a sort of peace to loneliness that he craved. As such, he'd never pursued the types of extracurricular activities that would propel him into school wide renown. Besides, if there had ever come a time in his life when he did wish for adoration from his peers, he could be certain that his home life would abruptly halt any success he might find.
His mum's notorious penchant for catastrophic relationships, as well as a few mishaps involving trysts with other students' fathers had pretty much paved the way to Dominic's seclusion - both academically and socially. No one wanted to hang out with the son of a psychotic slag, and it was extremely difficult to concentrate on classwork when you weren't sure who was whispering what about you, or if your mum would even be at home when you stepped through the door.
Though his mum was a bit irresponsible when it came to her love life, she had never been cruel or smotheringly sweet when it came to Dominic. She simply wasn't there.
For reasons unknown to Dominic, Sylvia Howard felt that her son needed to wear nice clothes and have expensive toys. He often suspected this was an excuse for his mother to be away from him, because she worked two jobs in London and was often dead on her feet by the time she stumbled through the door.
As fate - or irony, he was never sure which - would have it, Sylvia was only ever able to sustain two part-time jobs, which left her son wearing middle class clothing and with few toys and no one to play with. Dominic never complained, merely found ways to fill the needed maternal gaps on his own. Many days he stayed at home, pissing about on the computer or watching telly, but his joy came in the form of a pencil and a black, hardbound sketchpad.
While in London, their flat had been within walking distance of a park, which Dominic liked to visit after school in the afternoons. There, he would perch on one of the many scattered benches, observing the people who ambled past him, completely unaware of his watchful eye. Eventually, someone would catch his interest, and he would feverishly sketch them - making sure to get in all the essential details before they left, heading to wherever there next stop might be. Once he'd laid in the gestural lines of his drawing, he would go back and alter the image until he felt it an accurate representation.
Whatever world Dominic created within the white pages of his sketchbook could enthrall him for hours; sometimes keeping him so long that he would glance up to find the grounds emptying out and the guard calling out his final warning before he locked the gates.
But since their move to Bury - where Dominic's mum had transferred from her job at a Tesco store in London to the Tesco Express here - he found himself in her presence more than he was used to. It was a temporary thing, he knew, because she was constantly searching for a second job to help with the monthly payments of their house.
Even so, she seemed overbearing and omnipresent.
He'd look up from his self-served breakfast of cereal to find her standing over him, only moving on after dropping a kiss onto the crown of his head. As soon as he walked through the door from being outside or running errands, she was all over him asking about his day.
Then there was the time he was wanking and she'd knocked on his door under the pretense of needing his laundry. He shuddered at the memory, and slammed his eyes shut in an attempt to think about something else.
Right. School.
As he drifted off to sleep, Dom began to think that maybe a new school was more ideal than being stuck at home with a suddenly doting mum.
* * * * *
It felt as though he'd only just shut his eyes when the raucous sound of his alarm crashed into his dreams like a derailed train.
"Bollocks," he mumbled, slapping the snooze button before rolling back over and burying himself under blankets and pillows. "Five more minutes, just five more..."
Three cycles of slamming his fist onto the snooze button later, Dom's mum peeked her head into his door and caught his wrist as it descended on the much abused clock.
"Dommie," his mum whispered, playfully flicking at the top of his ear. When he only groaned, she grabbed a handful of duvet and ripped the covers off of him.
"Jeezus!" Dom yelled, hands falling to his crotch to hide his morning wood. Quickly, he rolled over, overestimating the space he had left on the mattress and toppling to the floor in a frenzy of flailing limbs. "Shit, Mum! Some privacy please?"
"Darling, you've got five minutes before you have to walk out the door or you'll be late for your first day."
"Alright! Okay!" Dom said, crawling to his knees but making sure to keep his lower body hidden behind the bed. "Just bloody go already!"
Sylvia gathered up her son's laundry as she pivoted on her heel to leave, only to pause at the door and grin devilishly at Dom over her shoulder. "At least one of us had a lovely dream last night."
"Mum!"
No sooner had she shut the door than Dom was on his feet, scrambling into his jeans and the nearest shirt he could find before tugging on some socks and stuffing his feet into his trainers.
He rushed through fixing his hair and swiping on deodorant, and he only brushed his teeth for two minutes as opposed to his regular five. By the time he sprinted out the door, a piece of toast clenched between his teeth, his mum was waiting for him in the car.
"Good timing, Dom!"
Dom's only response was to grin at her around his toast as he buckled in.
The drive to the school was short and silent, save for the occasional misplaced maternal worrying. ("Did you remember your books?" "Did you brush your teeth?" "Don't worry, love, you'll make loads of new friends!" "Fuck's sake, Dominic, get your feet off the dash!")
He thought he'd seen the worst of her newly acquired maternal impulses when he found a note tucked into his bag that he promptly discarded, but as they pulled into the car park of his new school, he found that he was wrong.
"Give me a kiss, love."
"Mum," Dom said, nostrils flared as if he'd smelled something rancid. "I love you and all, but there is no fucking way I'm kissing you in public."
"Language, Dommie," she sing songed, grinning when he sighed heavily and stepped out of the car.
A few steps later, he heard the sound of a car slowly creeping past him, followed by the motor of a window as it rolled down.
"I love you, little man!" his mum called, and his stomach plummeted to the ground. "And don't worry, popkins, I won't be home when you get there, so you can masturbate in peace!"
As Dominic stood stock still and listening to the sound of his mother's car as she left, he wondered just how much trouble he would get into if he skipped school altogether.
* * * * *
Later, Dom sat in the dining hall, lifting his unopened carton of juice and dropping it again onto his empty tray, repeating the action over and over again until the boy beside him leaned over and grabbed his wrist.
"Give it a rest, yeah?"
Even though it hadn't been said harshly, Dom's stomach twisted in embarrassment, the sentiment climbing the ladder of his ribcage to heat his chest.
"Yeah," Dom said quietly, slipping his hands into his lap to grip his knees. He hated being the new kid. "S-sorry."
The students of County Upper School had seemed nice enough, inviting him to sit with them and occasionally pausing in their endless chatter to ask him questions. Still, they weren't what he was used to, and he felt awkward whenever they would ask him how he ended up in their town. Usually he would just say that his mum had a new job and leave it at that. That seemed to pacify them more than when he said "personal issues."
He was casting his eyes over the cafeteria again, searching for something, anything to distract himself from the urge to get up and bolt.
All around him chatter swirled - bits and pieces of it snagging his interest - but for the most part he stayed silent. It was just as he was opening his mouth to answer yet another question from - Tom, was it? - when a flurry of activity caught his eye.
"Give it back, Bellamy. I know you took it and I want it back."
A tall, menacing-looking boy bent over a scrawny, animated mass of pale skin and gorgeous bone structure with a shock of unnaturally red hair who was grinning like a cat who'd finally caught his canary.
"I've no idea what you're talking about, man, so get the fuck out of my face."
"You know exactly what I'm talking about, and I want it back."
"Mr. Bellamy and Mr. Stedham," came a teacher's voice, "Stop this at once or it's to the office with you."
"Piss off," said the scrawny boy, using the tips of his fingers to lightly shove against the flustered man's chest. Dom heard the boy's high burst of maniacal laughter when the teacher grabbed his arm and began to tow him out of the cafeteria. Looking over his shoulder to waggle his eyebrows at his accuser, the petite boy was lifting his hand to make some sort of gesture when he caught sight of Dom.
Dom felt his stomach seize up, something weird bubbling around the edges when the red-headed boy grinned and winked - actually winked - at him before he was yanked away.
There were a few minutes of silence before the students resumed their chatter, going on with their lunch as if nothing happened, but Dominic found himself unable to tear his eyes from the spot where the boy had been.
"Who was that?" Dom asked Tom, who had already tucked back into his questionable looking pizza. He had tried to ask casually, as if he really didn't care, but his voice cracked in the middle of the question and blew his cover.
"That," he scowled, his mouth full of pepperoni and not bothering to hide it, "was Matt Bellamy."
It was left there, as if the name alone should clear things up. Dom raised his eyebrows, shaking his head and holding up his hands to signal he would have no idea who Matt Bellamy was.
Tom shoved his thick-rimmed glasses back up on his nose and swallowed before pointing a stubby finger in Dom's face and continuing. "Stay away from him. Bloke's a total freak."
"Oi!" came a voice from the other side of Tom. It was the tall bear of a boy who'd introduced himself earlier as Chris. "That's my cousin you're talking about there."
A small bud of hope bloomed in Dom's chest at the relationship, and he leaned forward to see Chris better.
"But yeah," Chris said, snorting a bit. "He is a total freak. Set the gym on fire last year, but they didn't press charges because he fucked the principal."
Dominic felt his cheeks growing hot and pressed his juice carton to the side of his face to hide the blush that was staining it.
"Seriously," Tom said, sucking noisily at the grease on his fingertips. "You're better off to stay far, far away from that twat."
"Oi!" Chris said again, making another reference to his relationship to the aforementioned twat, but Dominic could hardly concentrate, lost as he was in daydreams of sparkling blue eyes and a careless wink.
* * * * *
Over the next few lessons, Dominic found himself searching for the blue eyed boy he'd seen in the dining hall.
He knew it was foolish - and a bit girlish, if he were to be honest with himself - but he simply couldn't stop the compulsion to crane his neck whenever a flash of fuzzy red or pale, creamy skin tugged at the corner of his eye.
As if the blatant searching for Matt wasn't embarrassing enough, Dom was also a bit klutzy in his nerve-addled state.
Every time he thought he'd finally sighted the other boy, he would drop his folders, or trip over his own shoes; once he'd nearly run into a wall when a peal of high pitched laughter made his heart flip in his chest unexpectedly. Still, he had yet to see Matt, and he was beginning to think that he wouldn't ever see the other student again, save for whatever brief glimpses he could steal during lunch hours.
Great, I'm planning on stalking this bloke.
Finally, it was time for him to make his way to the last lesson of the day, English. He wasn't particularly excited about it, especially since he was positive at this point that there would be no gorgeous boy waiting for him to make an appearance.
Tom walked him from their Chemistry lesson - which he had been happy to learn they'd had together - chattering on about something Dom could hardly feign interest in. He kept peering around corners and standing on his tiptoes, hoping to see Matt just once more.
It occurred to him that perhaps this type of behavior could be considered creepy, so he began trying to be more participant in Tom's soliloquy.
"Well, here we are," Tom said, pausing out side a door and gesturing inside. "This is you."
"Right," Dom said, clutching the strap of the bag over his shoulder. It seemed to have grown heavier throughout the day, and the tender skin between his neck and shoulder screamed at him for relief. "Well then. Cheers."
The dark haired boy smiled and used a finger to push his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose. "Mr. Preston is a bit of a dick, mate. Thinks he's bloody Shakespeare or summat." Tom winked and turned to go, waving over his shoulder and calling, "Have fun, yeah?"
With a sinking feeling, Dom stepped into the classroom, meeting the eyes of the man at the head of the class, who promptly waved him over. Mr. Preston.
The teacher was perfectly suited for his job as far as stereotypes go. Tall and thin with hawkish features, it appeared as if Mr. Preston had rolled off of a bookshelf coated in dust before coming in to college. His brown trousers and vest looked as though they might have been beige at some point, and his tweed jacket was surely the hand me down of his great-great-great-great-great late grandfather.
The only vaguely nice things on his person were the small, rimless spectacles that dangled from the collar of the button up shirt beneath his vest and the highly polished shoes on his feet. However presentable his attire may have been, it was certain that no one would notice - his face was far more distracting.
Thick, unruly brows stayed furrowed over black, beady eyes and a beak like nose while his lips were reminiscent of a carnival caricature in their disproportionate largeness. Add to that the fact that his hairline receded to the crown of his head, and it was no wonder he seemed so angry.
"Mr. Howard, I take it?" the teacher asked, his voice high and cracked like the pages of an ancient novel. With long fingers he smoothed back a wisp of his shoulder length, salt and pepper hair as he waited for an answer.
"Yes, sir," Dom said, his face warming. He dropped his eyes to stare at imaginary debris on his shoes, shuffling his weight from foot to foot nervously. Desperately, he hoped that he wouldn't have to be introduced to the class, as had been the custom in most of the primary schools he'd been transferred to in the past.
But this was, for all intents and purposes, sixth form, so he felt optimistic - if only a little bit.
"Yes, well," Mr Preston continued, "I have no more copies of the book we're studying, but I feel confident you can share with Mr. Bellamy as you'll be sitting with him. Other than that, you'll need a notebook to answer study questions for today."
Dom's head popped up, mouth falling open as he searched the room until his gaze landed on one red haired, blue eyed boy at the back of the class, poring over what appeared to be a textbook. He barely registered Mr. Preston's continued instructions, grinning as he was in the wake of his stroke of luck.
Fucking finally.
His triumph only lasted for a moment, though, because he realized that if he was to be sitting next to Matt, he would eventually have to talk to Matt - something he wasn't particularly gifted at. In fact, if he remembered correctly, the last boy he fancied ended up having to endure several bad jokes and a slap to the face when Dom tried to shake his hand.
Shit.
"Go on, then," said the teacher with a dismissive wave of his wrist, and Dom was on his way.
Nerves constricted his lungs as he dug into the furthest depths of his brain for something cool or witty to say to Matt once he'd taken his place at their table.
"Hello."
Dom glanced up at the other boy, who was smiling at him toothily, his textbook laying open on the table with a magazine tucked into its folds. A magazine with a nearly naked bloke on its cover, wearing only frilly ladies underwear that rode low on his arse. He had a fist knotted seductively into his own hair while he looked over his shoulder, full lips parted and glistening.
"Literature," Matt said with a cheeky wink. Quickly, he shut the hefty book and shoved it to the side before thrusting a hand out at Dom. "I'm Matt, by the way."
"Dom," said the blond, gripping the other boy's hand feebly. He set his bag on the floor and pulled out the extra chair, plopping down into it.
"You look a bit familiar," Matt said suddenly, eyes narrowing as he took Dom in. Dom resisted the strong urge to cover his face with his hands as those baby blues casually swept over his frame. Suddenly, Matt's face lit up and he sat back in his chair, grinning that crooked, snaggle toothed grin that stole the solidity of Dom's knees. "That's right! You were watching my row with Jack!"
"Yeah," he said, rubbing at the back of his neck with the palm of his hand. "What was that about anyway?"
"He thinks I nicked his spliff."
Dom started, eyes flying open wide as he turned to the other boy, who seemed to be studying him for a response. "Did you?"
"Who, me?" Matt asked, feigning innocence. Dom didn't have to check himself in a mirror to know that the grin splitting his face was goofy looking when Matt winked at him yet again.
With a clearing of his throat, Mr. Preston called the class to order.
The sound startled Dom, who had been so wrapped up in the small, beautiful boy next to him that he hadn't seen the other students filing in to fill empty seats. With great effort, he dragged his eyes away from Matt and to the teacher.
Everyone around him began to pull out their books and notebooks, and Dom found himself distracted when Matt began to do the same. It amazed Dom how the boy could make something as basic and simplistic as pulling a zipper look liquid and graceful.
Tearing his eyes away from those long, nimble fingers, Dom looked up to find Matt watching him, a bemused little smirk on his face. Blushing furiously, he forced his gaze away from the other boy and to the front of the classroom.
Don't gawk at him, you idiot.
It was the thought that became his mantra throughout the entire lesson.
As soon as he'd learned their task for the day - read chapter two of The Catcher in the Rye and answer the provided study questions - he settled in to listen to his classmates as they were called on during the discussion time.
Dom tried to pay attention, truly he did, but he kept finding his attention pulled over to Matt's skin, kept stealing little glances at the other boy's lips. For the most part Matt seemed oblivious, and for that small favor he was absurdly grateful.
It wasn't until the teacher dismissed himself to take a call, instructing the students to work begin their homework that Dom's luck had finally run out.
Only able to feign interest in his studying for a short time, Dom looked over and into shimmering blue eyes, at once nearly overcome. He felt that if he just leaned forward, he could fall into their endless depths and drown. He didn't realize that he had actually moved, pressing their outer thighs together and drifting closer until..
"Dom?"
"Huh?"
"If you try to snog me in class I will stab you in the throat with a pencil."
"I wasn't trying to snog you!" Dominic cried, jumping back as if he'd touched a live wire. He felt his face heat treacherously as he fumbled for an excuse. "I...I just ...I wanted to see the answer to number five."
Matt grinned, a crooked, cheeky little thing that sent Dominic's heart skittering in his chest. "The last time a bloke claimed he was trying to cheat off my paper we ended up shagging in the loo."
Cheeks aflame once more, Dominic scooted back to his side of the table, saying nothing more until the bell rang.
* * * * *
Later that evening, Dominic sat at his kitchen table, wondering why the only thing he could think about was the flash of scarlet in Matt's hair, or the twinkling of blue beneath thick, dark lashes.
After nearly a quarter of an hour of staring into space over his textbooks, he finally reached into his bag and pulled out his sketchpad, along with his little plastic bag of pencils. He sucked in a deep breath, forcing himself to clear his thoughts before he placed the lead to the paper.
Time seemed to soften around the edges while he worked, bottom lip snagged between his teeth and an extra pencil tucked behind his ear, the only sound in the kitchen the puffs of his breath. He could feel himself relaxing into the exercise, letting his hand guide his movements and dictate the outcome.
Eventually, his pencil stilled, and he stared at the page in front of him, mouth agape in shock.
His drawing seemed to scream back at him from the crinkled parchment he'd sketched on, and he rubbed at his cheek absently as he studied what was effortlessly becoming his obsession. Long, spindly fingers, splayed out and as detailed as if he'd spent decades studying them as opposed to one lesson of stealing covert, seconds long glances.
Shit.