Space They Cannot Touch
Title: Chapter Four: I'll Stand By You
Pairing: Matthew/Dominic
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Dominic tries to adjust to life without sound.
Disclaimer: I do not own Muse. The events within are entirely fictional.
Author's Notes: I'm sorry it's taken such a long time to get this chapter together. Real life is a bitch sometimes.
Betas: The dynamic duo millionstar and dolce_piccante . This would not have been written without their support, love and encouragement.
Warnings: Angst
Previous Parts: Prologue, Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three
So, if you’re mad, get mad.
Don’t hold it all inside.
Come on and talk to me now.
Hey, what you got to hide?
I get angry too.
And I’m a lot like you.
When you’re standing at the crossroads
Don’t know which path to choose
Let me come along
‘Cause even if you’re wrong
I’ll stand by you
I’ll stand by you
Won’t let nobody hurt you
I’ll stand by you
Take me in, into your darkest hour
And I’ll never desert you
I’ll stand by you
I’ll Stand by You - The Pretenders
Some mornings Dom wakes up feeling much the same as he always has done. He feels the winter sun on his face and he smiles. He buries himself in the warmth of his bed sheets and contemplates taking Chris’ kids ice-skating in the afternoon. The feeling lasts right up until he goes into the bathroom. Seeing his face in the mirror always shakes him back to reality, and he ends up crawling back into bed, miserable this time, and staying there until the sun goes down again. It’s been three weeks since he was released from hospital, and he has yet to leave the house. Evelyn does her best, bringing him cups of tea and trying to convince him to go out and see his friends. He refuses every time. If his friends want to see him, they can come to him.
And they do.
Chris comes loaded with armfuls of ‘Get Well’ drawings from the Wolstenholme clan every time he visits. Tom brings him music magazines and tells him about the girl he’s been seeing, the one that Dom has never even met. Matt hovers awkwardly; never sure whether or not Dom wants him to be there and over-thinking every word that comes out of his mouth. Dom appreciates it, he really does, but sometimes he just wants his mates back. No one has made fun of him for over a month now, and he’s surprised just how much he misses it. Their friendship has always involved a hefty amount of piss taking, and it doesn’t feel the same without it. That’s how they deal with things: jokes, fearlessness and egos that were always just a few steps ahead of reality.
“Oi, Judy Garland…you ready yet?” Matt cries, hammering on Dom’s bathroom door.
“Just a minute,” Dom replies. Matt rolls his eyes. Personally, he has no idea why Dom is even bothering to get dressed up in the first place. School discos are unspeakably lame, and people who make an effort for them even more so. Sighing, he flings himself onto Dom’s bed and grabs a comic book to read.
When Dom finally emerges from the bathroom, Matt’s jaw drops. His best friend, his dopey best friend with the too-big ears and a smile that can be seen from space, is wearing the tightest pair of bright red trousers Matt has ever seen. Dom must have poured himself into them. He’s paired the trousers with a green polka dot t-shirt that clashes horribly with the trousers but shows off his surprisingly toned arms and black Converse. The shirt stops just before the waistband, revealing a sliver of pale stomach. Dom’s hair is blow-dried and fluffy and, unless Matt is very much mistaken, he’s wearing eyeliner as well.
“See something you like?” Dom teases, grinning at the shocked look on Matt’s face.
“You look like a Christmas ornament,” Matt shoots back, pleased with his quick recovery.
“Oh yeah, well you look like an asparagus,” Dom retorts, casting a disapproving gaze over Matt’s olive green tracksuit and wild hair.
“Mmm, and with any luck, I’ll get eaten tonight,” Matt quips, winking lewdly.
“Or pulped,” Dom replies. “Didn’t Mark Ellison say he was going to smash your face in if you so much as breathed in Samantha Trudy’s direction again?”
“I’d like to see him try,” Matt says with false bravado. They both start laughing.
“I notice you’ve worn your running shoes,” Dom says, through fits of laughter.
“Just in case,” Matt replies, and then says more seriously, “But what about you? You think they’re going to leave you alone if you walk in there dressed like that?”
Dom shrugs. “They can do what they want to me. In ten years time I’m going to dress like this all the time, and they are going to shit themselves wishing they had what I have.”
Dominic stumbles into the bathroom, still half-asleep. Bladder successfully emptied, he moves to the mirror, pausing when he catches sight of himself in the glass. The man staring back at him looks nothing like the Dominic he used to be. His hair is unwashed, and in desperate need of a trim. He hasn’t shaved since leaving the hospital, and the stubble on his chin is fast becoming a full-on beard. It’s not a look he’s ever considering sporting before, and with good reason. His eyes are ringed with grey, a clear indication of how little sleep he’s been getting. An assortment of products - hair gel, shaving cream, moisturiser - sprawls across the bathroom counter; the essential ingredients in his morning routine. He doesn’t bother with them anymore. What’s the point? No one wants to shag a deaf drummer, no matter how good his hair looks.
One quick swipe of his arm sends the whole lot crashing to the floor. Well, he thinks they crashed. He’s fucking deaf now, he reminds himself, so they could have thumped, or tinkled, or splattered, and he’d never know. He squeezes his eyes shut and rests his forearms on the counter as he tries desperately to remember what a splatter sounds like.
A hand on his shoulder pulls him from his trance, and when he realises who it is, Dom’s mood sours even further. Matt is standing next to him, concern flooding his blue eyes. Pity is not an emotion Matt expresses well. He can’t hide it, the way Chris and Tom can, and it makes Dom angry. He hates people pitying him, even if in his heart he knows that his situation warrants it. He scowls, and moves past Matt and back into his bedroom. He knows that what he’s about to do is unspeakably cruel, but he can’t seem to stop himself. Matt follows him into the room, as Dom knew he would, and Dom pushes play on the DVD remote. The television bursts to life, replaying the last footage Tom shot on the night Dom was injured. Matt stares, horrified, as his guitar flies through the air before smashing into the side of Dom’s head. Dom falls, and the screen goes black. Matt grabs the nearest piece of paper and scribbles furiously.
Why?
I couldn’t remember it. I wanted to understand.
What is there to understand? It was a mistake, Dom. I thought you knew that.
Sometimes I don’t know what to think.
Matt sighs, trying not to let his frustration show. The doctors told them to expect Dom’s moods to be unpredictable at best. Mostly he’s been okay. A little sulky, but Matt is used to dealing with a sulky Dom. It’s not that different from dealing with Dom after one of his many break ups. But this, this is something new. This is proper, channelled anger. And unfortunately for Matt, it’s channelled right at him. He wishes Dom would speak to him, wishes they could just scream at each other and get it over with. The thing is, Dom can speak; it just sounds a bit weird because he can’t regulate his volume properly. The first time he’d tried it, Matt hadn’t been quick enough to hide his shock. Dom hasn’t tried it since.
I’m sorry.
Matt’s lost count of the number of times he’s said it now, but he’ll keep on saying it until Dom believes him.
I’m tired of hearing it, Matt.
Matt picks at a dead bit of skin on this thumb, refusing to meet Dom’s eyes. Something hits the side of his head, and he looks up. Dom is holding up another sign.
You can piss off now.
Matt sighs again, and leaves the room. He doesn’t piss off entirely though. He never does. On the days that Dom isn’t up for visitors, or simply doesn’t want to see Matt, he hangs around the apartment doing whatever he can to help. Evelyn has moved into the guest room, and she’s taking care of most of the cooking and cleaning, but every so often she allows Matt to help out, whether it’s shopping for groceries, vacuuming or cooking dinner. More than anything, he provides her with a bit of company. They’ve never really been close, in fact Matt can probably count on one hand the number of times he’s been in a room with her without Dom, but they’ve managed to look past that to form something of a support network. When Dom is sleeping and all Evelyn can do is cry, it’s Matt that she calls. He’s not very good with words of comfort, never has been; but sometimes all she needs is someone who’ll listen without telling her every fifteen seconds that it’s all going to be okay. For his part, Matt sometimes needs someone to tell him that he really is helping; that his presence isn’t actually making everything worse.
Matt has never thought of himself as a particularly helpful person. He’s cooked for girlfriends in the past, but more because he likes cooking than because it would take some of the stress off of them. His idea of helping with the washing used to be wearing the same shirt for a week. He can clean, if he has to, but mess has never bothered him so he tends not to bother too much about vacuuming and dusting. But Evelyn likes a clean house, so Matt does whatever he can to help out. He has no idea whether Dom is aware of how much time Matt is spending mopping floors and cleaning toilets, or even if he wants Dom to know. He’s not doing it for thanks. He just wants to feel useful.
*
It’s three days before Dom speaks to Matt again. He’s still grumpy, but at least now he’s grumpy with company. Matt brings them both a warm up of tea and a chocolate biscuit, and he perches on the end of the bed and ‘listens’ to Dom rant some more about the situation.
I feel like a fucking child again. I know I need someone to look after me right now, and I hate that. I’m grateful to mum for doing it, of course I am, but I’m too old to be living with my mother. I’ve already lost my hearing, now I’m losing my life as well.
You haven’t lost your hearing. Not permanently.
Actually the doctor’s haven’t confirmed anything either way, but Matt refuses to believe that Dom’s situation is irreversible. It just can’t be.
What would you do if your mum wasn’t here?
Dom shrugs.
Dunno really. Same as I’m doing now I suppose, just with more swearing and the occasional wank.
He smiles ruefully at Matt. They both know that making an effort to be more sociable, to pretend that everything is normal would probably help Dom a lot more than sulking alone in his bedroom, but Matt is unwilling to force Dom into doing anything that he’s not ready for.
That probably doesn’t make much sense, does it?
Matt shakes his head.
It’s just, I’ve always been pretty independent, you know that. And now I feel I’m right back to where I started from, being looked after by my mum. It’s fucking pathetic.
Matt frowns. The only thing pathetic about this situation is that it was Matt, who is supposed to be Dom’s best friend, that caused it.
Could you live on your own right now if you wanted to?
Probably not. It’s all the little things I can’t do like hearing the doorbell or the phone ring that make life too difficult.
Could you live with me?
What?
If you moved in with me, or I moved in here, would that be different? I mean, then we’re two mates living together rather than you living with your mum. That’s less pathetic, right?
I can’t ask that of you.
Fuck off. I offered, Dom. I’d do anything right now if it would make your life any easier.
Even though I’m a moody bitch 90% of the time these days?
You get used to it after a while.
Dom smiles, one of the few real smiles he’s offered since the accident.
If you’re really, truly serious about this, then yes, it would be better. But I don’t want you to do it because you feel like you owe me, because that will only end in trouble.
I’m not. I’m doing it because you’re my mate.
I have a specialist appointment tomorrow.
I know.
I can ask her then about us living together.
Okay. Sure.
Matt…will you come with me tomorrow?
The ‘I’m scared’ is unspoken, but Matt hears it clear enough in the look Dom’s eyes.
Of course I will.
Thanks
*
The specialist’s office is too warm, and the orange on the walls reminds Dom of the time Matt spent the night throwing up after an ill-fated attempt to make vodka carrots. A guitar callused thumb brushes over his knuckles and the next thing Dom knows, Matt is holding his hand. He tries not to let the shock register on his face, because it’s actually quite a nice feeling and the warm weight of Matt’s hand is more comfort than the guitarist could ever know. Tentatively, Dom turns his hand so that they are palm to palm. Matt’s fingers slip between his, linking their hands together as a Mr Donaldson is called to the reception desk.
When Dom’s name is called, Matt stands up with him, still holding the drummer’s hand. An old lady in the corner scowls at them, and Matt steps closer to Dom in some kind of silent protest. A smiling redheaded woman leads them into a small office.
Still want me to stay?
Please.
The woman is quick to pick up on Dom’s chosen method of communication, and she grabs a notepad from her top drawer.
Good morning, Mr Howard. How are you feeling?
Nervous.
That’s understandable. I’m afraid there’s not a great deal I can tell you today. Based on the preliminary scans it looks as though there may be both bone and nerve damage to deal with in your injured ear.
Dom’s hand squeezes Matt’s.
The good news is, both kinds of damage are fixable, but it’s likely to take a long time.
Matt’s face lights up. “You can fix it? Really fix it?”
“We can,” Dr Johnson confirms.
“That’s fucking brilliant!”
How long?
We can’t say for certain right now. We need to wait for the surface damage to your skull to heal before we can examine the nerve damage so it’s likely to be a good couple of months.
I’m going to be deaf for a couple of months?
Yes. But it’s a small price to pay to regain your hearing for good, wouldn’t you say?
Dom casts his eyes down like a chastised child.
“Your boyfriend is facing a very difficult couple of months,” Dr Johnson remarks to Matt. “He’s going to need all the support you can offer him.”
“I’ll be there,” Matt says fiercely. “His mother has been staying with him and looking after him but I think he’s finding that a bit stifling. We were hoping you’d say it would be okay if he moved in with me instead?”
“That’s what Dominic wants?”
“Yes.”
“Then I think it should be fine. I can give you some information to read that should help you both.”
“Thank you.”
Outside the clinic Dom pulls Matt into a tight embrace, his hands wrapping around the shorter man’s waist as he buries his neck in Matt’s pale shoulder. Unable to speak, Matt simply runs his hands up and down Dom’s back in what he hopes is a soothing gesture.
“It’s going to be okay,” he whispers, more to himself than to Dom. “It’s going to be okay.”
Pairing: Matthew/Dominic
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Dominic tries to adjust to life without sound.
Disclaimer: I do not own Muse. The events within are entirely fictional.
Author's Notes: I'm sorry it's taken such a long time to get this chapter together. Real life is a bitch sometimes.
Betas: The dynamic duo millionstar and dolce_piccante . This would not have been written without their support, love and encouragement.
Warnings: Angst
Previous Parts: Prologue, Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three
So, if you’re mad, get mad.
Don’t hold it all inside.
Come on and talk to me now.
Hey, what you got to hide?
I get angry too.
And I’m a lot like you.
When you’re standing at the crossroads
Don’t know which path to choose
Let me come along
‘Cause even if you’re wrong
I’ll stand by you
I’ll stand by you
Won’t let nobody hurt you
I’ll stand by you
Take me in, into your darkest hour
And I’ll never desert you
I’ll stand by you
I’ll Stand by You - The Pretenders
Some mornings Dom wakes up feeling much the same as he always has done. He feels the winter sun on his face and he smiles. He buries himself in the warmth of his bed sheets and contemplates taking Chris’ kids ice-skating in the afternoon. The feeling lasts right up until he goes into the bathroom. Seeing his face in the mirror always shakes him back to reality, and he ends up crawling back into bed, miserable this time, and staying there until the sun goes down again. It’s been three weeks since he was released from hospital, and he has yet to leave the house. Evelyn does her best, bringing him cups of tea and trying to convince him to go out and see his friends. He refuses every time. If his friends want to see him, they can come to him.
And they do.
Chris comes loaded with armfuls of ‘Get Well’ drawings from the Wolstenholme clan every time he visits. Tom brings him music magazines and tells him about the girl he’s been seeing, the one that Dom has never even met. Matt hovers awkwardly; never sure whether or not Dom wants him to be there and over-thinking every word that comes out of his mouth. Dom appreciates it, he really does, but sometimes he just wants his mates back. No one has made fun of him for over a month now, and he’s surprised just how much he misses it. Their friendship has always involved a hefty amount of piss taking, and it doesn’t feel the same without it. That’s how they deal with things: jokes, fearlessness and egos that were always just a few steps ahead of reality.
“Oi, Judy Garland…you ready yet?” Matt cries, hammering on Dom’s bathroom door.
“Just a minute,” Dom replies. Matt rolls his eyes. Personally, he has no idea why Dom is even bothering to get dressed up in the first place. School discos are unspeakably lame, and people who make an effort for them even more so. Sighing, he flings himself onto Dom’s bed and grabs a comic book to read.
When Dom finally emerges from the bathroom, Matt’s jaw drops. His best friend, his dopey best friend with the too-big ears and a smile that can be seen from space, is wearing the tightest pair of bright red trousers Matt has ever seen. Dom must have poured himself into them. He’s paired the trousers with a green polka dot t-shirt that clashes horribly with the trousers but shows off his surprisingly toned arms and black Converse. The shirt stops just before the waistband, revealing a sliver of pale stomach. Dom’s hair is blow-dried and fluffy and, unless Matt is very much mistaken, he’s wearing eyeliner as well.
“See something you like?” Dom teases, grinning at the shocked look on Matt’s face.
“You look like a Christmas ornament,” Matt shoots back, pleased with his quick recovery.
“Oh yeah, well you look like an asparagus,” Dom retorts, casting a disapproving gaze over Matt’s olive green tracksuit and wild hair.
“Mmm, and with any luck, I’ll get eaten tonight,” Matt quips, winking lewdly.
“Or pulped,” Dom replies. “Didn’t Mark Ellison say he was going to smash your face in if you so much as breathed in Samantha Trudy’s direction again?”
“I’d like to see him try,” Matt says with false bravado. They both start laughing.
“I notice you’ve worn your running shoes,” Dom says, through fits of laughter.
“Just in case,” Matt replies, and then says more seriously, “But what about you? You think they’re going to leave you alone if you walk in there dressed like that?”
Dom shrugs. “They can do what they want to me. In ten years time I’m going to dress like this all the time, and they are going to shit themselves wishing they had what I have.”
Dominic stumbles into the bathroom, still half-asleep. Bladder successfully emptied, he moves to the mirror, pausing when he catches sight of himself in the glass. The man staring back at him looks nothing like the Dominic he used to be. His hair is unwashed, and in desperate need of a trim. He hasn’t shaved since leaving the hospital, and the stubble on his chin is fast becoming a full-on beard. It’s not a look he’s ever considering sporting before, and with good reason. His eyes are ringed with grey, a clear indication of how little sleep he’s been getting. An assortment of products - hair gel, shaving cream, moisturiser - sprawls across the bathroom counter; the essential ingredients in his morning routine. He doesn’t bother with them anymore. What’s the point? No one wants to shag a deaf drummer, no matter how good his hair looks.
One quick swipe of his arm sends the whole lot crashing to the floor. Well, he thinks they crashed. He’s fucking deaf now, he reminds himself, so they could have thumped, or tinkled, or splattered, and he’d never know. He squeezes his eyes shut and rests his forearms on the counter as he tries desperately to remember what a splatter sounds like.
A hand on his shoulder pulls him from his trance, and when he realises who it is, Dom’s mood sours even further. Matt is standing next to him, concern flooding his blue eyes. Pity is not an emotion Matt expresses well. He can’t hide it, the way Chris and Tom can, and it makes Dom angry. He hates people pitying him, even if in his heart he knows that his situation warrants it. He scowls, and moves past Matt and back into his bedroom. He knows that what he’s about to do is unspeakably cruel, but he can’t seem to stop himself. Matt follows him into the room, as Dom knew he would, and Dom pushes play on the DVD remote. The television bursts to life, replaying the last footage Tom shot on the night Dom was injured. Matt stares, horrified, as his guitar flies through the air before smashing into the side of Dom’s head. Dom falls, and the screen goes black. Matt grabs the nearest piece of paper and scribbles furiously.
Why?
I couldn’t remember it. I wanted to understand.
What is there to understand? It was a mistake, Dom. I thought you knew that.
Sometimes I don’t know what to think.
Matt sighs, trying not to let his frustration show. The doctors told them to expect Dom’s moods to be unpredictable at best. Mostly he’s been okay. A little sulky, but Matt is used to dealing with a sulky Dom. It’s not that different from dealing with Dom after one of his many break ups. But this, this is something new. This is proper, channelled anger. And unfortunately for Matt, it’s channelled right at him. He wishes Dom would speak to him, wishes they could just scream at each other and get it over with. The thing is, Dom can speak; it just sounds a bit weird because he can’t regulate his volume properly. The first time he’d tried it, Matt hadn’t been quick enough to hide his shock. Dom hasn’t tried it since.
I’m sorry.
Matt’s lost count of the number of times he’s said it now, but he’ll keep on saying it until Dom believes him.
I’m tired of hearing it, Matt.
Matt picks at a dead bit of skin on this thumb, refusing to meet Dom’s eyes. Something hits the side of his head, and he looks up. Dom is holding up another sign.
You can piss off now.
Matt sighs again, and leaves the room. He doesn’t piss off entirely though. He never does. On the days that Dom isn’t up for visitors, or simply doesn’t want to see Matt, he hangs around the apartment doing whatever he can to help. Evelyn has moved into the guest room, and she’s taking care of most of the cooking and cleaning, but every so often she allows Matt to help out, whether it’s shopping for groceries, vacuuming or cooking dinner. More than anything, he provides her with a bit of company. They’ve never really been close, in fact Matt can probably count on one hand the number of times he’s been in a room with her without Dom, but they’ve managed to look past that to form something of a support network. When Dom is sleeping and all Evelyn can do is cry, it’s Matt that she calls. He’s not very good with words of comfort, never has been; but sometimes all she needs is someone who’ll listen without telling her every fifteen seconds that it’s all going to be okay. For his part, Matt sometimes needs someone to tell him that he really is helping; that his presence isn’t actually making everything worse.
Matt has never thought of himself as a particularly helpful person. He’s cooked for girlfriends in the past, but more because he likes cooking than because it would take some of the stress off of them. His idea of helping with the washing used to be wearing the same shirt for a week. He can clean, if he has to, but mess has never bothered him so he tends not to bother too much about vacuuming and dusting. But Evelyn likes a clean house, so Matt does whatever he can to help out. He has no idea whether Dom is aware of how much time Matt is spending mopping floors and cleaning toilets, or even if he wants Dom to know. He’s not doing it for thanks. He just wants to feel useful.
*
It’s three days before Dom speaks to Matt again. He’s still grumpy, but at least now he’s grumpy with company. Matt brings them both a warm up of tea and a chocolate biscuit, and he perches on the end of the bed and ‘listens’ to Dom rant some more about the situation.
I feel like a fucking child again. I know I need someone to look after me right now, and I hate that. I’m grateful to mum for doing it, of course I am, but I’m too old to be living with my mother. I’ve already lost my hearing, now I’m losing my life as well.
You haven’t lost your hearing. Not permanently.
Actually the doctor’s haven’t confirmed anything either way, but Matt refuses to believe that Dom’s situation is irreversible. It just can’t be.
What would you do if your mum wasn’t here?
Dom shrugs.
Dunno really. Same as I’m doing now I suppose, just with more swearing and the occasional wank.
He smiles ruefully at Matt. They both know that making an effort to be more sociable, to pretend that everything is normal would probably help Dom a lot more than sulking alone in his bedroom, but Matt is unwilling to force Dom into doing anything that he’s not ready for.
That probably doesn’t make much sense, does it?
Matt shakes his head.
It’s just, I’ve always been pretty independent, you know that. And now I feel I’m right back to where I started from, being looked after by my mum. It’s fucking pathetic.
Matt frowns. The only thing pathetic about this situation is that it was Matt, who is supposed to be Dom’s best friend, that caused it.
Could you live on your own right now if you wanted to?
Probably not. It’s all the little things I can’t do like hearing the doorbell or the phone ring that make life too difficult.
Could you live with me?
What?
If you moved in with me, or I moved in here, would that be different? I mean, then we’re two mates living together rather than you living with your mum. That’s less pathetic, right?
I can’t ask that of you.
Fuck off. I offered, Dom. I’d do anything right now if it would make your life any easier.
Even though I’m a moody bitch 90% of the time these days?
You get used to it after a while.
Dom smiles, one of the few real smiles he’s offered since the accident.
If you’re really, truly serious about this, then yes, it would be better. But I don’t want you to do it because you feel like you owe me, because that will only end in trouble.
I’m not. I’m doing it because you’re my mate.
I have a specialist appointment tomorrow.
I know.
I can ask her then about us living together.
Okay. Sure.
Matt…will you come with me tomorrow?
The ‘I’m scared’ is unspoken, but Matt hears it clear enough in the look Dom’s eyes.
Of course I will.
Thanks
*
The specialist’s office is too warm, and the orange on the walls reminds Dom of the time Matt spent the night throwing up after an ill-fated attempt to make vodka carrots. A guitar callused thumb brushes over his knuckles and the next thing Dom knows, Matt is holding his hand. He tries not to let the shock register on his face, because it’s actually quite a nice feeling and the warm weight of Matt’s hand is more comfort than the guitarist could ever know. Tentatively, Dom turns his hand so that they are palm to palm. Matt’s fingers slip between his, linking their hands together as a Mr Donaldson is called to the reception desk.
When Dom’s name is called, Matt stands up with him, still holding the drummer’s hand. An old lady in the corner scowls at them, and Matt steps closer to Dom in some kind of silent protest. A smiling redheaded woman leads them into a small office.
Still want me to stay?
Please.
The woman is quick to pick up on Dom’s chosen method of communication, and she grabs a notepad from her top drawer.
Good morning, Mr Howard. How are you feeling?
Nervous.
That’s understandable. I’m afraid there’s not a great deal I can tell you today. Based on the preliminary scans it looks as though there may be both bone and nerve damage to deal with in your injured ear.
Dom’s hand squeezes Matt’s.
The good news is, both kinds of damage are fixable, but it’s likely to take a long time.
Matt’s face lights up. “You can fix it? Really fix it?”
“We can,” Dr Johnson confirms.
“That’s fucking brilliant!”
How long?
We can’t say for certain right now. We need to wait for the surface damage to your skull to heal before we can examine the nerve damage so it’s likely to be a good couple of months.
I’m going to be deaf for a couple of months?
Yes. But it’s a small price to pay to regain your hearing for good, wouldn’t you say?
Dom casts his eyes down like a chastised child.
“Your boyfriend is facing a very difficult couple of months,” Dr Johnson remarks to Matt. “He’s going to need all the support you can offer him.”
“I’ll be there,” Matt says fiercely. “His mother has been staying with him and looking after him but I think he’s finding that a bit stifling. We were hoping you’d say it would be okay if he moved in with me instead?”
“That’s what Dominic wants?”
“Yes.”
“Then I think it should be fine. I can give you some information to read that should help you both.”
“Thank you.”
Outside the clinic Dom pulls Matt into a tight embrace, his hands wrapping around the shorter man’s waist as he buries his neck in Matt’s pale shoulder. Unable to speak, Matt simply runs his hands up and down Dom’s back in what he hopes is a soothing gesture.
“It’s going to be okay,” he whispers, more to himself than to Dom. “It’s going to be okay.”