Space They Cannot Touch
Title: Chapter Seven: Never Let You Down
Pairing: Matthew/Dominic
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The closer you get to the truth, the harder it is to keep lying.
Disclaimer: I do not own Muse. The events within are entirely fictional.
Betas: The dynamic duo millionstar and dolce_piccante . You both are made of beauty and win.
Warnings: Angst, language.
Previous Parts: Prologue, Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six
I made a vow that no one would hurt you
And that somehow I’d look after you
But it’s true, I can’t look after nothing
And in the end, you’ve done more for me.
When you ask me how I’m doing these days
I find it easier to lie
Than to tell you ‘bout what I feel inside
But I wasn’t lying when I said that I would never let you down
Said I will never let you down
Said I will never let you down
Never let you down
Never Let You Down - Dan Sultan
The crying gets a lot worse before it gets better. Great, choking sobs, as though Matt is trying to cough up every bad memory he has so that he never has to think about them again. It’s a horrible thing to witness. For the first time since the accident, Dom is actually glad he can’t hear. He has never seen Matt this bad before and he has no idea what to do to make it better. Normally they’d get drunk together and talk themselves stupid or jam together until they’ve worked out all their frustration through music. Neither of those are options right now, so he just sits there with his arms around the guitarist and waits. Matt twitches and struggles in Dom’s embrace, sometimes pushing to escape and other times pulling Dom closer. One of Matt’s hands closes around Dom’s wrist, sharp fingernails digging into the skin, but Dom refuses to let him go. Dom presses his lips to Matt’s temple and whispers soothing words against heated skin. He can’t tell if it helps, but it’s all he’s got right now.
Eventually, Matt calms down. His body goes limp in Dom’s arms and his head drops onto Dom’s shoulder, one tear-stained cheek resting against Dom’s neck. Matt’s hair tickles Dom’s neck, but he doesn’t have the heart to tell Matt to move. They sit like that for a while, Matt occasionally letting out a whimper and Dom running his hands down Matt’s side in what he hopes is a comforting gesture. Dom’s throat is bone dry, and he’s sure that Matt’s is even worse. He shifts slightly and Matt lifts up his head. Matt’s eyes are red and puffy, his cheeks flushed. He looks terrible. Dom mimes drinking, and Matt nods miserably. Despite Matt’s indication that he would like a drink, Dom has to literally prise Matt’s fingers off him so that he can stand up. Dom gives him a questioning look as he stands, but Matt’s eyes are firmly trained on the floor.
When Dom returns from the kitchen, Matt’s head is in his hands. Dom sits down again and nudges Matt with his shoulder, holding out a glass of water and two aspirin. Matt takes the water and nods in thanks. He downs it in one go and then rests his head on Dom’s shoulder again. They sit there in silence until Dom can’t keep his eyes open anymore. He yawns, and gently shakes Matt, who has fallen asleep. Blue eyes blink sleepily as Matt looks up at Dom in confusion. Dom mimes sleeping, and Matt nods. Dom stands first, offering his hand to Matt and pulling the smaller man to his feet. Matt keeps a tight grip on Dom’s hand as the blond leads them to Matt’s bedroom. Matt only lets go of Dom’s hand to collapse, face down, onto the bed. Dom sighs. With some trepidation, he runs his hands over the soles of Matt’s shoes before attempting to slide them off. Matt kicks out, nearly hitting Dom in the face, and rolls onto his back. The position makes it easier for Dom to get the shoes off, and he does so with the bare minimum of grimacing. He’s not sure when the atrocious smell of Matt’s feet became so familiar to him that it ceased to bother him, but he’s slightly disgusted with himself for it. There’s loving someone in spite of their faults, and then there’s just being a fucking sap.
Matt’s shoes are unceremoniously dumped by the side of the bed, his socks following soon after. Dom sits on the bed next to Matt, who has apparently fallen asleep again. Dom knows he should probably take Matt’s pants off too - they were bloody expensive and Matt will probably chuck a fit if he wakes up and finds them all wrinkled - but the intimacy of the action is too much for Dom to bear right now.
Friend or no friend, Dom doesn’t have the right to touch Matt like that, no matter how innocent his intentions might be. He doesn’t deserve to lay eyes on the pale skin that lies beneath Matt’s shirt. He’s not even worthy of the sight of Matt’s hipbones every time his shirt rides up as he takes a breath. He shouldn’t be here. He should leave Matt to get some sleep. But he can’t. Not when Matt is smiling so peacefully in his sleep. Not when he looks so small and vulnerable and Dom is feeling a rush of protectiveness unlike anything he has ever known. How much time and effort has Matt put in to help Dom recover? How many sleepless nights has he endured, tossing and turning and blaming himself entirely for what happened? How badly has this entire situation taken its toll on Matt, and why hasn’t he said anything to Dom if it’s getting to be a bit too much? Matt knows, or at least Dom hopes he knows, that Dom wouldn’t blame if he moved back to his own place. Matt has already done more than Dom had expected; helped more than Dom can ever repay him for.
If he were to tell his story to anyone else, they’d probably think he was insane for feeling this way about a person whose actions nearly resulted in his death. But they don’t know Matt like Dom does. They haven’t spent over half their lives in utter awe of him, longing for the day when Matt might look at him and see someone worthy of his heart. Not that that has ever happened, but Dom still clings foolishly to the hope that it might do one day. They don’t know what it’s like to flit from relationship to relationship, searching for someone who can make him feel as alive as the boy with the crooked grin and the mad ideas. He likes to tell himself that if he ever meets anyone who makes him feel the way Matt does, he’ll forget all about the skinny guitarist and embrace lifelong happiness with this mythical, magical person. It’s a lie. Every fibre of his being rebels at the thought. It feels like betrayal, even though he and Matt have never been involved like that. His heart chose Matt. Anyone else is second best, and Dom isn’t really a second best kind of guy.
It’s strange to see Matt’s hands so still. It makes Dom wonder how long it has been since the other man picked up a guitar or played the piano. The acoustic guitar that Dom bought on the spur of the moment a couple of years ago sits in the living room but Matt hasn’t so much as strummed it since he moved in. He knows that Matt has been trying not to listen to music in front of Dom. Fear of rubbing it in, Dom supposes. The thought of Matt sneaking around listening to music on his iPod whenever Dom isn’t around is unbelievably depressing. Music is such a fundamental part of who Matt is - who they both are - that it seems fundamentally wrong that he should be suppressing it for Dom’s sake.
The whole time Dom has been thinking his hand has been resting on Matt’s shoulder. The moment he lifts it up, Matt’s eyes open.
“Stay,” Matt mouths, his hand darting up to grab Dom’s. “Please.”
It’s a terrible idea; especially given the direction Dom’s thoughts were wandering in earlier.
“Please, Dom,” Matt begs silently, squeezing the hand he’s holding.
How can Dom resist that? How can he resist a Matt who so obviously needs some support right now? How can he turn down the chance to be close to the person whose mere presence makes Dom feel better?
He kicks off his shoes and socks and tentatively lies down next to Matt. Matt’s grip loosens, but he doesn’t let go of Dom’s hand. Something tells him it’s going to be a long night.
*
How do you feel?
Dom asks, as a bleary-eyed Matt stumbles into the kitchen. It had taken him fifteen minutes to extricate himself from Matt’s embrace when he woke, but he felt instinctively that it would have been a bad idea for Matt to wake up to find Dom in his bed.
Embarrassed.
Matt replies, flicking the coffee machine on and reaching for his mug.
I’m sorry for wigging out on you like that.
Consider it forgotten.
Dom replies, sipping his tea and glancing at the television. The silence is noticeably more awkward than usual.
When Dom’s back is turned, Matt lets out a small sigh of relief. Embarrassment had definitely been the right answer to go for. It would prevent Dom from questioning Matt any further about what had happened last night. The truth is, when Matt woke around 2am to find Dom sleeping next to him it was the happiest moment he’d experienced for months. Of course, the moment he remembered that Dom was only there because Matt had begged him to be, the happy feeling disappeared. He spent the rest of the night feeling abysmally pathetic and worrying about how he was going to explain himself in the morning. He’s not sure what he said to Dom during their argument, which he can only vaguely remember, and he’s pretty sure he doesn’t want to know. What he does want is the strongest coffee he can make, bad morning television and for them to never speak of this again. They’d been doing so well at not mentioning Gaia, and Matt sees no reason why his outburst last night should change that.
Except that it might be his one shot to get an answer to the question that has been bothering him for months. It might be his one chance to find out what the hell Dom thought he was doing and his one chance to make Dom understand how much he hurt Matt by doing it.
“How dare you?” Matt yells, storming into the dressing room and grabbing Dom’s drumsticks right out of the blond’s hands. “How fucking dare you?!”
“Whoa,” Dom says, glancing at Chris before looking back at Matt. “What am I supposed to have done?”
“You know,” Matt snarls. “You fucking know. Don’t play dumb with me. You spoke to her. You interfered, even though you know how much I hate it when people interfere in my life.”
Dom swallows, looking guiltily up at Matt. “How did you find out?”
“Tom,” Matt says shortly. “Apparently he’s the only one of you that has the decency to tell me the truth.”
“Hang on,” Dom says, his eyes flashing dangerously as well now. “When did I lie to you?”
“You should have told me. Fuck, you shouldn’t have done it at all. What the fuck possessed you to do something like that?”
“I was only trying to help, Matt. You were miserable and I thought maybe I could fix it.”
“By going behind my back and making promises on my behalf? Promises that you know I can’t keep?”
“I’m sorry,” Dom says exasperatedly. “Okay? I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“Like hell you didn’t. You’re supposed to know me better than that. Don’t sit there and tell me you didn’t know I’d be upset.” Matt scrubs a hand over his face, anger giving way to disappointment and hurt. He wants to punch Dom, not for going behind his back, but for rejecting him so completely.
“I figured that the end would justify the means, so to speak,” Dom explains. “And I think you’re missing the point here. It worked, didn’t it, me going over there? She’s here and you get your fucking perfect life back. Stop being such an ungrateful prick.”
Now it’s Dom who sounds angry. Chris watches the whole thing unfold in confusion, unsure whether he should step in or let them sort it out themselves. He’s never lied to Matt either, but now is not the time to pull Matt up for lumping him in with Dom. The rate they are going, he’ll be lucky if he makes it out of this without being forced to choose a side. No reason to draw any extra attention to himself.
“You don’t know the first thing about my life, you cunt,” Matt hisses. “You don’t know what I want and you have no idea how much you have fucked everything up for me.”
With one final venomous glare in Dom’s direction, Matt turns around and marches out of the room.
Matt groans at the memory. Are they capable of discussing it now without resorting to calling each other names and playing the blame game? Matt likes to think so, likes to think that the last few weeks have brought them closer on a deeper level than any experience they’ve shared before, but his performance last night would suggest otherwise. There’s no way he can risk it. He’s already broken his promise to himself to make life as easy as possible for Dom. He lashed out at Dom. He hurt him again, emotionally this time, which is even worse than physically. Why the fuck can’t he stop hurting him?
Matt grabs some more aspirin whilst the coffee machine warms up. When the coffee he is made he joins Dom on the couch.
What song are they playing?
Dom points at the television, where footage from a recent AC/DC concert is playing on the news.
‘Highway to Hell’.
Nice. Sound good?
Yeah. They sound awesome.
It’s not Dom’s fault, but his questions make Matt want to curl up in a ball and weep. He can’t imagine not being able to hear what’s going on all around him. He wonders whether Dom can remember what the song should sound like. That leads him to thinking of all the songs he knows and loves. Would he remember them all if he lost his hearing? Which song would he forget first? Which would he remember, right until the very end? Which one would he lament losing the most?
You haven’t played anything for a while.
No.
Why?
Just haven’t felt the urge I guess.
Will you play something for me today?
Are you sure that’s a good idea. Won’t it hurt too much?
Probably. But Muse is all I have to show for myself and I can’t simply pretend it doesn’t exist just because I can’t hear it right now.
But why do you want me to play if you can’t hear it?
Dom frowns and takes a deep breath before writing his answer.
The other day I couldn’t remember what ‘Uno’ sounded like. I had to look the tabs up on the internet.
There’s nothing Matt can say to that. He looks down at his fingers, feeling suddenly guilty for his own ability to hear.
I forgot one of our own songs. Who knows what I’ll forget next. The doctors reckon I’ve got at least another five months of this. I can’t forget, Matt. You can’t let me forget.
Matt nods, throat too tight to speak and tears prickling behind his eyes. Dom should never, ever look this desperate.
I won’t.
Seeing it being played helps. Like now, I can hear ‘Highway to Hell’ in my head as clear as anything because I’m watching them play it.
So if I play something for you, you’ll remember how it sounds.
Hopefully, yes.
What do you want me to play?
Anything. You can play fucking ‘I’m a Little Teapot’ if you want. Just play me something.
Okay. Can I finish my coffee first?
Sure.
*
This is absurd, Matt thinks. They’ve been playing to thousands of screaming fans for years now. They supported U2. They sold out Wembley. They headlined fucking Glastonbury, for God’s sake. So why is he physically trembling at the thought of playing for Dom?
Dom watches him expectantly, a cold beer in his hand. Matt has managed to stall all day, but he has run out of excuses and now he must sing, or risk letting Dom down yet again. The couple of beers he’s already consumed aren’t doing anything to calm his nerves but they are starting to make him feel a bit nauseous. Or maybe that’s Dom?
“This is ridiculous,” he mutters, pretending to tune the guitar. “Grow some balls Bellamy. He can’t fucking hear you anyway.”
Dom gives him a worried look, and for a moment Matt is certain that Dom had lip-read everything he just said. A notebook lies next to Dom, and when the drummer doesn’t reach for it, Matt figures he’s off the hook. He takes a deep breath and begins to play. He hadn’t given much thought to what he should sing, but his fingers seem to move of their own accord, leaving his voice no choice but to follow along.
He can’t look at Dom. The other man can be disturbingly perceptive sometimes. If Matt looks at him now, Dom will know everything. He’ll see right into Matt’s mind. He’ll know that as much as the last few weeks have been about helping Dom, they’ve also been about Matt getting to be close to him. He’ll see that while Dom has been turning down invitations to spend time with Tom and Chris, Matt has loved all the extra time he’s had with the drummer. He’ll discover that, whilst it pains him to see Dom so troubled, Matt is happier now than he has been in years. He’ll realise just how fucking selfish Matthew Bellamy can be. And Matt can’t let that happen.
He plays on, his eyes burning holes in the carpet in front of him. He can feel Dom’s eyes on him. The intensity of the gaze is overwhelming, and it takes more strength than Matt thought he possessed just to keep on playing.
The end of the song is met with silence, as expected. Matt keeps his eyes on the ground, his fingers still hovering over the strings. He looks up nervously. Dom looks like he’s been punched in the face and is trying not to let his mates see how much it hurt.
Endlessly?
Matt’s heart leaps into his throat.
You could tell?
Dom’s face turns wistful, and if Matt’s not mistaken, a little sad.
You get the same look on your face every time you sing it.
There’s a lot Matt could say in response to that; about how he feels the same way every time he sings it. How he’s felt the same since the day he wrote it and that he’s scared that one day it will be too big a secret to carry around and that he’ll just blurt it out, into the microphone, before a stadium full of strangers.
He doesn’t say it though. He doesn’t say anything.
I’m so sorry, Matt.
What for?
It’s a risky question, but Matt can’t resist asking it.
For you. For the way things ended with Gaia. I know you still love her. I’m sorry it didn’t work out. And I’m sorry if I made things worse.
It’s the first time Dom has apologised for his actions in the aftermath of Matt’s breakup. It’s also an apology that Matt doesn’t deserve.
Now would be the perfect time to come clean. To admit to Dom that he hasn’t missed Gaia since the moment he stepped out of the house they used to share. That he would have happily traded all the years they spent together for one chance with Dom.
He’s too much of a coward to do it though.
You really miss her.
Slowly, his heart screaming in protest at the lie, Matt nods.
Dom turns away.