The Long Surrender: 3/??
Title: The Long Surrender
Author: lalalive23
Pairing: Belldom
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Fluff and sadness, swearing
Summary: AU. Matt moved to Spain immediately after his lover left him to continue his work on the Spanish guitar. When Dom takes a holiday with his new fiancee, his world gets turned upside down and nothing is ever the same again.
Feedback: Is awesome. I like it. Keep it coming?
Disclaimer: I don't own Muse. If I did, they sure as hell would not be let out of the naughty closet. I don't make money off this. If I did, I would be a rich lady and not distracting myself from writing an undergrad thesis that is somehow much bigger than I.
Note: This chapter is dedicated to dolce_piccante , millionstar , and sunshine_173 . Not gonna lie, if it weren't for them this story would not have continued. I admit to having a mini breakdown (one of those self-doubting, "I am so shit at writing, why do I even bother to do it" things) and if they hadn't forced me into some perspective this story (and all the other ones I've been working on) would have just died. So. I am ETERNALLY grateful to them. This chapter is for them. To everyone who commented, you are all my heart. I love you guys so much. &hearts
NaNo word count: 14,525
Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2
Not long after his introduction to Matthew, Dominic found himself alone in his hotel room sitting quietly on the bed. Julia had gone down to the first floor restaurant to order take away, explaining that she'd rather explore the hotel herself than call down and make someone else bring it to them. He was grateful for the solitude, using the time to reflect on his afternoon and to call Ian like he said he would. Pulling his mobile out of his trouser pocket, he scrolled through his contacts once more to find the number.
He had met Ian about two years ago at an advertising fair in Dublin, standing alone by his company's table and rocking on his heels waiting for their turn to present the powerpoint he had spent hours slaving over. A redheaded young man had come up to him then, smiling brightly and inquiring whether or not they would be able to assist his small studio. They had mostly talked business in that first meeting, but in the hours after the fair had ended, they found themselves at a noisy pub discussing childhood dreams and their hopes for the future. The years following proved to be an easy friendship, Ian's personality so calm and easy going that it was nearly impossible not to like him. If anyone could help Matthew, he knew it would be Ian.
His natural calmness nurtured well the blossoming young artists that would book studio time, but his knowledge of the industry and his inherent understanding of sound pushed the performers to new limits of their creativity. It was unsurprising that his studio had been the home of many successful debut albums and EPs. Matthew was already extraordinarily talented and his musical finesse was simply undeniable; these facts alone were an exciting thing to think about when left in the careful hands of Ian Thompson. He would grow exponentially, and Dominic was sure that, in the world of classical or Spanish guitar, Matthew would be a star. But it was not his opinion that mattered, truly. It came down to whether or not Ian wanted to book him, felt there was something within Matthew that was worth pursuing. It was terrifying and exciting to think that he could have discovered something, or nothing at all.
Ian's name came into view on the screen, Dominic tapping it and hitting the green CALL button. He waited a few moments, allowing for the phone to connect to a tower outside of Spain. The phone rang and Dominic held his breath, excited to talk to Ian about the little man he had found so entrancing. Eventually the phone call went to voicemail, and he blushed at himself for not having prepared a single thing to say past "Hey Ian! Guess what!" if the man answered; now he was forced to stumble through words in the hopes of ensuring that he had actually found a quality act in the center of Madrid.
"Hey Ian, it's Dom." Duh, he thought, mobiles have caller ID. "Uh, so the other night Julia and I went out to dinner. OH! We're in Spain, by the way." Oh dear. He was rambling like a fool. "Anyway, so we were out at dinner and we saw this guy playing Spanish guitar and he was incredible. I don't know much about Spanish guitar or classical guitar....or music...in general, but he really caught my attention. And I thought 'that has to mean something' you know? I saw him again this afternoon and he was playing in this piaza, totally chill. I gave him my card and I was hoping we could book some time in the studio. So, call me back, please man. This guy is too good to pass up." He finished the voicemail and hung up. Mulling over his words, he laughed at himself. Ian would definitely call him back, as he usually would, and he would be poking fun at Dom for the most absurd and unprofessional voice message he had ever left. Well, at least he'll be interested.
Falling back on the pillows, he toed deftly at his socks to pull them off, giving a little shake of his feet to drop them to the floor completely. A sigh escaped him as he shut his eyes, arms crossed behind his head, the light of the sunset wrapping itself lovingly around the room. He basked in the yellow, his skinny jeans falling low on his hips as his shirt rode up around his stomach, exposing the flesh to the warm glow. He wanted nothing more than to think of the wonderful sights he'd seen, the flavors of the incredible meal Julia had ordered for him (promising it would be a delight), the way she had kissed him in the middle of the street, tenderly and without inhibition. But he could not. His thoughts were entirely focused on Matthew and his high pitched giggle, the thick dark hair that sat in a mess on top of his head, and the way his slim body seemed to be held so deliciously in the tight clothes he was wearing. They had been a welcome change to the loose button down and dress trousers he had worn while he was performing.
These thoughts concerned Dominic, and it was not because he found himself admiring the appeal of another person. He knew for a fact that Julia had openly admired other men, and she would tell him so while they were in bed together, announcing the truth in such a way to make him both jealous and eager to satisfy her at the same time. It had been a strange kink of theirs, and he honestly didn't mind her open appraisal of other men because she was, body and soul, his. But for Dominic's shift in attention to be drawn toward a man was something new. Men, like woman, would assess the bodies and physical traits of members of their sex, a game of sizing up. Any man who denied gazing at other men was a sore liar, because it was a natural thing that humans did from the time they were primates; merely looking to see who would win in a fight, which of us would win in a mating ritual. Rituals changed, but the end goal was still the same, and Dominic was guilty as charged of studying the shapes and lines of the male figure. But it was never with a hint of emotional desire or attachment, it had always been internal assessment of the self. Now, as he remembered the rough callouses of Matthew's hands, the small height difference (which was an odd thing to notice, but it struck him how Julia was his own height while this man was a few inches shorter), the funny way his front tooth stood out in front of the rest, Dominic found himself yearning for him, instead of comparing himself with him.
Dominic was not gay. At least, he was pretty sure he wasn't gay. Not that he had an issue with homosexuality, or men who partnered with men for a night as a means to an end, he just didn't see himself as belonging to that group. He had no experience in that world to qualify him as anything but straight. He was not bisexual either, having a friend once who was "bisexual but mostly gay," as he had put it. Dominic had never once kissed another man, let alone experimented sexually with them. Being honest with himself, he wasn't even sure why he was thinking of these things, his relationship with Julia so strong that it didn't matter if he were gay or not. He had a fiancee, he had an incredible woman, and there was no way a little man with a guitar was going to change how he felt about her.
As if on key, Julia burst into the room, forcing Dominic to open his eyes as she dropped the bags of warm food on the bed to crawl along his body and straddle his hips.
"What's for dinner?" he asked, closing his eyes again as her hands rubbed idly along his thighs.
"We have steak!" she exclaimed and Dominic released a little laugh. He felt her come to lean toward him, her hair teasing the skin of his neck, her breath huffing wickedly on his ear. "You know what comes with steak, right?"
The grin he could hear in her words spread obscenely across his face. "I can think of a few things," he whispered, guiding her hands from his thighs to the zip and fly of his trousers.
"Oi!" she said, pulling her hands away. "Treats before dinner spoil your appetite. Be a good boy and you'll get your dessert." The teasing tone in her voice made his groin twitch to life, the thought of her mouth wound wetly around his cock causing him to spring to life.
He thrust himself up from the pillows, grabbing eagerly for the food, Julia teetering on his body as he moved. "Let's eat!" he cried and she giggled loudly, shoving him back to the bed so she didn't fall off.
"Calm down, good heavens." In one fluid motion she lifted herself off him and onto the other side of the bed, and Dominic marveled at the elegance of the action. Unclumsy, unawkward, and a myriad of other compound adjectives that sought to remind him how special this woman truly was. "What were you doing in the piaza this afternoon when I left you?"
Dominic paused, sitting up and in the process of crossing his legs, suddenly feeling guilty for no apparent reason. He had no reason to lie, and he did not, but as the words fell from his lips he felt like he needed to be punished for them. "I was talking to the guitarist we saw last night at dinner."
It was curious, how one simple sentence carried with it hundreds of different meanings.
"Oh really?" she exclaimed. She did not turn to look at him, simply kept pulling the food out of the bags and arranging it neatly on the bed. "He was really good. Did you catch his name?"
Dominic's train of thought became confused, caught between the smell of the delicious food before him and the brief conversation he had with Matthew. He at least could remember the man's name. "Matthew," he said, dizzily. Julia had pulled out a container holding a steak with butter and garlic rubbed over it. Between the scent and the picture of Matthew's face in his mind, Dominic become positively starving. He brought his hands out to the plate she had put it on, fingers fluttering in the air to satisfy one of the many needs he was deprived of.
"Alright, greedy boy." She passed him the plate, setting to work on arranging her own. "So, did you ask him to play again or what? What did you guys talk about."
"I found him playing by the railing over the hill and we started talking about how he got into guitar," Dominic explained while he cut his dinner. "He's been playing since he was a kid, apparently, and he's English. Used to live in London." Like an excited child, he brought the food to his mouth, the juices from the meat making him sigh with delight. "Shit this is fucking incredible," he murmured.
Julia chuckled, evenly cutting her dinner into equal squares. "What made him come to Spain?" she asked.
The question forced Dominic to remember the part of the interaction he wished to forget, the part where Matthew had been slightly uncomfortable while he described that he was alone. He had looked broken and vulnerable, the hug he gave himself hardly easing any of the pain he was clearly experiencing. "He didn't say," he said softly.
Julia nodded. "He probably came here because there's more of a market for that kind of music."
Dominic wanted to agree with her, wanted to say simply 'yes, that's exactly right.' But the way the light in Matthew's eyes had dimmed at his questions, the way he held himself so tightly to put a barrier between him and the world, only proved that there was another side to his reasoning that he wasn't ready to address.
Instead, Dominic said nothing and simply shrugged as he nodded, chewing contentedly on his food.
~*~
Darkness greeted Matthew when he stepped through the threshold of his flat, the tiny studio looking decrepit in the bleak lighting. Shrugging off his bag, he flicked the light switch up, the light bulbs making a keening sound as if it hurt them to feel an electric current bring them to life. In the fluorescent light, his little kitchen looked sterile. Too white, too small. The mattress in the center of the room looked dingy, sheets of music scattered across the floor and littering the sheets with his scrap writings of new songs.
He ran a hand through his hair, the dark strands knotted and mussed from playing outside in the breeze of dusk. The flamenco dancers were always a sight to behold. and playing for them every now and again was an absolute treat, but it was terribly exhausting as the stream of dancers taking to the floor seemed to be endless.
Tenderly, he leaned his guitar against the wall next to his bed, gingerly placing it there like he would a lover. He collapsed in a heap on the hard mattress, a sigh escaping him upon contact. The room felt claustrophobic and smelled of must, a far cry from the flat he'd had in London. It pained him to think that he had been in Spain for only a month, living alone and falling into a routine that denied him any possibility to make friends, connections, even acquaintances. While it was nice to know that, by day, there was simply no time to think about the loneliness he had forced himself into, by night it seemed that it was the only thing he could focus on before he forced himself into a restless sleep.
A month ago, in London, he would have come home from a performance with Evan, who would have waited for him in the wings with a smile and a kiss. They would have stumbled through the door together, hands and clothes touching and falling everywhere. He would have dropped to his knees in front of his lover, begging and looking like a wanton slut, but only for Evan. The evening would have been spent enjoying each other to the limits of their physical pleasure, Matthew nearly crying with the intimacy while Evan would have shivered until the aftershock of his orgasm ended.
Now Matthew came home alone to a flat he had offered to rent from someone he found on craigslist, to a flat that had paint peeling on all sides and housed an animal he hoped was a mouse, but it had never shown its face. He enjoyed no one, enjoyed only the palm of his hand when he could bring himself to picture an erotic vision other than his ex-lover. The end of both options usually resulted in tears, either from heartache or from shame that he had thought of another to bring himself to climax.
It pained him to think of the last time he had a full conversation with someone that did not involve a booking or what to do with the lease on his flat in the UK. Until Dominic had bravely spoken to him, it had been since Evan left him with a spare key and a shrug of his shoulders. Until Dominic, he had come home without anything but Evan to focus on.
The blonde had surprised him, startling him with the forwardness of his questions. Though, perhaps they weren't forward at all, and the month without friendly conversation had eluded him altogether. But what had struck Matthew the most was that he was simply a stunning creature to behold. Aviators slung from the neckline of his white shirt, leather jacket hanging loosely on his shoulders, tight skinny jeans practically sewn onto him. It was the unexpected force of his presence that caught Matthew off guard, but it was his unnatural beauty that had caused Matthew to repeatedly cross and uncross his legs in an attempt to hide his ever growing erection. He had been so sure that Dominic had noticed, the tightness of his trousers giving way to the shape of his cock. He had yearned for the comfort of the guitar to be placed in front him, like a shield, but it would have looked silly or obvious. Instead, he had tried to remain as casual as he could, though he was sure he appeared awkward and pathetic.
Shaking his head, he stood and pulled his shirt off him, standing by the single window in the flat and not caring that the blinds were not drawn. He giggled a bit at the way he seemed to flow in the moonlight, his pale skin making him look more like an apparition than a physical being. He sighed and hummed a little, undoing his belt, the button of his trousers and the fly. In the middle of shimmying out of them, he felt the left pocket give resistance to being folded and pouted, brow furrowed, as he shoved his hand inside to figure out what had been so stiff.
In the light of the moon, he pulled out a card, Dominic's business card. Toeing off his shoes and socks as he stood, he red the name Dominic Howard over and over until he was sure the font of the words were burned into his memory. Pushing his trousers down the rest of the way, he stepped out of them and kicked them away before dropping back to the bed, still reading the name.
He wanted to call Dominic, that was for sure, but he was unsure when to do so. It was not that he felt the elementary urge to wait a few days, following the rules of dating or courtesy, without making oneself look desperate. But, in truth, that's exactly what he was. Not simply for a career, but for a friend, someone to keep on the phone so he could talk about anything and nothing. It was silly of him, he knew, to think that a chance encounter with Dominic would lead to friendship, let alone a recording session. But Dominic had been right, when he said that nothing came of anything unless you were persistent.
Matthew would be persistent, he'd been persistent with Evan and he would do so again in his hope for friendship with Dominic, though he didn't exactly know why he craved such a close relationship with him. He had only briefly spoken to Dominic for five minutes, at most, but something clicked inside of him in those minutes. It was impossible to define what had happened, but it could be described as a crack in his shell forming, a removal of one of the bricks in the foundation of his metaphorical wall brought on simply because the blonde had said hello. His questions had pierced through holes Matthew didn't know existed in his barrier, getting straight to the heart of why Matthew was struggling and alone.
It had made Matthew question his daily pattern, made him question why he hadn't reached out to any of the neighbors. Language was not an issue, and it would be an absolute list it amongst his list of weak excuses. Even the students he tutored in the day were people he could have a conversation with. His lessons did not have to be so formal, so focused on getting the student to learn. He taught five students, each in different places in their understanding of the English language, and he was sure they each lead colourful lives; he was sure it would made him look more of a human being if he opened up to them once or twice about his life. Not that he had anything to tell them about, the excitement in his life simply playing a guitar, but he was pretty sure his students would be interested in learning what made their tutor tick.
Inside of him, his shell was breaking from the inside out, the changes brought on by the tall and leggy blonde. Dominic had given him his number on the grounds of business, not pleasure. But no one said Matthew couldn't hope for both.
And so, he closed his eyes, resolving to phone Dominic first thing in the morning. He fell asleep that way, holding the business card close to his chest and, for the first time since he'd arrived in Spain, he did not toss and turn the whole night through.
Author: lalalive23
Pairing: Belldom
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Fluff and sadness, swearing
Summary: AU. Matt moved to Spain immediately after his lover left him to continue his work on the Spanish guitar. When Dom takes a holiday with his new fiancee, his world gets turned upside down and nothing is ever the same again.
Feedback: Is awesome. I like it. Keep it coming?
Disclaimer: I don't own Muse. If I did, they sure as hell would not be let out of the naughty closet. I don't make money off this. If I did, I would be a rich lady and not distracting myself from writing an undergrad thesis that is somehow much bigger than I.
Note: This chapter is dedicated to dolce_piccante , millionstar , and sunshine_173 . Not gonna lie, if it weren't for them this story would not have continued. I admit to having a mini breakdown (one of those self-doubting, "I am so shit at writing, why do I even bother to do it" things) and if they hadn't forced me into some perspective this story (and all the other ones I've been working on) would have just died. So. I am ETERNALLY grateful to them. This chapter is for them. To everyone who commented, you are all my heart. I love you guys so much. &hearts
NaNo word count: 14,525
Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2
Not long after his introduction to Matthew, Dominic found himself alone in his hotel room sitting quietly on the bed. Julia had gone down to the first floor restaurant to order take away, explaining that she'd rather explore the hotel herself than call down and make someone else bring it to them. He was grateful for the solitude, using the time to reflect on his afternoon and to call Ian like he said he would. Pulling his mobile out of his trouser pocket, he scrolled through his contacts once more to find the number.
He had met Ian about two years ago at an advertising fair in Dublin, standing alone by his company's table and rocking on his heels waiting for their turn to present the powerpoint he had spent hours slaving over. A redheaded young man had come up to him then, smiling brightly and inquiring whether or not they would be able to assist his small studio. They had mostly talked business in that first meeting, but in the hours after the fair had ended, they found themselves at a noisy pub discussing childhood dreams and their hopes for the future. The years following proved to be an easy friendship, Ian's personality so calm and easy going that it was nearly impossible not to like him. If anyone could help Matthew, he knew it would be Ian.
His natural calmness nurtured well the blossoming young artists that would book studio time, but his knowledge of the industry and his inherent understanding of sound pushed the performers to new limits of their creativity. It was unsurprising that his studio had been the home of many successful debut albums and EPs. Matthew was already extraordinarily talented and his musical finesse was simply undeniable; these facts alone were an exciting thing to think about when left in the careful hands of Ian Thompson. He would grow exponentially, and Dominic was sure that, in the world of classical or Spanish guitar, Matthew would be a star. But it was not his opinion that mattered, truly. It came down to whether or not Ian wanted to book him, felt there was something within Matthew that was worth pursuing. It was terrifying and exciting to think that he could have discovered something, or nothing at all.
Ian's name came into view on the screen, Dominic tapping it and hitting the green CALL button. He waited a few moments, allowing for the phone to connect to a tower outside of Spain. The phone rang and Dominic held his breath, excited to talk to Ian about the little man he had found so entrancing. Eventually the phone call went to voicemail, and he blushed at himself for not having prepared a single thing to say past "Hey Ian! Guess what!" if the man answered; now he was forced to stumble through words in the hopes of ensuring that he had actually found a quality act in the center of Madrid.
"Hey Ian, it's Dom." Duh, he thought, mobiles have caller ID. "Uh, so the other night Julia and I went out to dinner. OH! We're in Spain, by the way." Oh dear. He was rambling like a fool. "Anyway, so we were out at dinner and we saw this guy playing Spanish guitar and he was incredible. I don't know much about Spanish guitar or classical guitar....or music...in general, but he really caught my attention. And I thought 'that has to mean something' you know? I saw him again this afternoon and he was playing in this piaza, totally chill. I gave him my card and I was hoping we could book some time in the studio. So, call me back, please man. This guy is too good to pass up." He finished the voicemail and hung up. Mulling over his words, he laughed at himself. Ian would definitely call him back, as he usually would, and he would be poking fun at Dom for the most absurd and unprofessional voice message he had ever left. Well, at least he'll be interested.
Falling back on the pillows, he toed deftly at his socks to pull them off, giving a little shake of his feet to drop them to the floor completely. A sigh escaped him as he shut his eyes, arms crossed behind his head, the light of the sunset wrapping itself lovingly around the room. He basked in the yellow, his skinny jeans falling low on his hips as his shirt rode up around his stomach, exposing the flesh to the warm glow. He wanted nothing more than to think of the wonderful sights he'd seen, the flavors of the incredible meal Julia had ordered for him (promising it would be a delight), the way she had kissed him in the middle of the street, tenderly and without inhibition. But he could not. His thoughts were entirely focused on Matthew and his high pitched giggle, the thick dark hair that sat in a mess on top of his head, and the way his slim body seemed to be held so deliciously in the tight clothes he was wearing. They had been a welcome change to the loose button down and dress trousers he had worn while he was performing.
These thoughts concerned Dominic, and it was not because he found himself admiring the appeal of another person. He knew for a fact that Julia had openly admired other men, and she would tell him so while they were in bed together, announcing the truth in such a way to make him both jealous and eager to satisfy her at the same time. It had been a strange kink of theirs, and he honestly didn't mind her open appraisal of other men because she was, body and soul, his. But for Dominic's shift in attention to be drawn toward a man was something new. Men, like woman, would assess the bodies and physical traits of members of their sex, a game of sizing up. Any man who denied gazing at other men was a sore liar, because it was a natural thing that humans did from the time they were primates; merely looking to see who would win in a fight, which of us would win in a mating ritual. Rituals changed, but the end goal was still the same, and Dominic was guilty as charged of studying the shapes and lines of the male figure. But it was never with a hint of emotional desire or attachment, it had always been internal assessment of the self. Now, as he remembered the rough callouses of Matthew's hands, the small height difference (which was an odd thing to notice, but it struck him how Julia was his own height while this man was a few inches shorter), the funny way his front tooth stood out in front of the rest, Dominic found himself yearning for him, instead of comparing himself with him.
Dominic was not gay. At least, he was pretty sure he wasn't gay. Not that he had an issue with homosexuality, or men who partnered with men for a night as a means to an end, he just didn't see himself as belonging to that group. He had no experience in that world to qualify him as anything but straight. He was not bisexual either, having a friend once who was "bisexual but mostly gay," as he had put it. Dominic had never once kissed another man, let alone experimented sexually with them. Being honest with himself, he wasn't even sure why he was thinking of these things, his relationship with Julia so strong that it didn't matter if he were gay or not. He had a fiancee, he had an incredible woman, and there was no way a little man with a guitar was going to change how he felt about her.
As if on key, Julia burst into the room, forcing Dominic to open his eyes as she dropped the bags of warm food on the bed to crawl along his body and straddle his hips.
"What's for dinner?" he asked, closing his eyes again as her hands rubbed idly along his thighs.
"We have steak!" she exclaimed and Dominic released a little laugh. He felt her come to lean toward him, her hair teasing the skin of his neck, her breath huffing wickedly on his ear. "You know what comes with steak, right?"
The grin he could hear in her words spread obscenely across his face. "I can think of a few things," he whispered, guiding her hands from his thighs to the zip and fly of his trousers.
"Oi!" she said, pulling her hands away. "Treats before dinner spoil your appetite. Be a good boy and you'll get your dessert." The teasing tone in her voice made his groin twitch to life, the thought of her mouth wound wetly around his cock causing him to spring to life.
He thrust himself up from the pillows, grabbing eagerly for the food, Julia teetering on his body as he moved. "Let's eat!" he cried and she giggled loudly, shoving him back to the bed so she didn't fall off.
"Calm down, good heavens." In one fluid motion she lifted herself off him and onto the other side of the bed, and Dominic marveled at the elegance of the action. Unclumsy, unawkward, and a myriad of other compound adjectives that sought to remind him how special this woman truly was. "What were you doing in the piaza this afternoon when I left you?"
Dominic paused, sitting up and in the process of crossing his legs, suddenly feeling guilty for no apparent reason. He had no reason to lie, and he did not, but as the words fell from his lips he felt like he needed to be punished for them. "I was talking to the guitarist we saw last night at dinner."
It was curious, how one simple sentence carried with it hundreds of different meanings.
"Oh really?" she exclaimed. She did not turn to look at him, simply kept pulling the food out of the bags and arranging it neatly on the bed. "He was really good. Did you catch his name?"
Dominic's train of thought became confused, caught between the smell of the delicious food before him and the brief conversation he had with Matthew. He at least could remember the man's name. "Matthew," he said, dizzily. Julia had pulled out a container holding a steak with butter and garlic rubbed over it. Between the scent and the picture of Matthew's face in his mind, Dominic become positively starving. He brought his hands out to the plate she had put it on, fingers fluttering in the air to satisfy one of the many needs he was deprived of.
"Alright, greedy boy." She passed him the plate, setting to work on arranging her own. "So, did you ask him to play again or what? What did you guys talk about."
"I found him playing by the railing over the hill and we started talking about how he got into guitar," Dominic explained while he cut his dinner. "He's been playing since he was a kid, apparently, and he's English. Used to live in London." Like an excited child, he brought the food to his mouth, the juices from the meat making him sigh with delight. "Shit this is fucking incredible," he murmured.
Julia chuckled, evenly cutting her dinner into equal squares. "What made him come to Spain?" she asked.
The question forced Dominic to remember the part of the interaction he wished to forget, the part where Matthew had been slightly uncomfortable while he described that he was alone. He had looked broken and vulnerable, the hug he gave himself hardly easing any of the pain he was clearly experiencing. "He didn't say," he said softly.
Julia nodded. "He probably came here because there's more of a market for that kind of music."
Dominic wanted to agree with her, wanted to say simply 'yes, that's exactly right.' But the way the light in Matthew's eyes had dimmed at his questions, the way he held himself so tightly to put a barrier between him and the world, only proved that there was another side to his reasoning that he wasn't ready to address.
Instead, Dominic said nothing and simply shrugged as he nodded, chewing contentedly on his food.
~*~
Darkness greeted Matthew when he stepped through the threshold of his flat, the tiny studio looking decrepit in the bleak lighting. Shrugging off his bag, he flicked the light switch up, the light bulbs making a keening sound as if it hurt them to feel an electric current bring them to life. In the fluorescent light, his little kitchen looked sterile. Too white, too small. The mattress in the center of the room looked dingy, sheets of music scattered across the floor and littering the sheets with his scrap writings of new songs.
He ran a hand through his hair, the dark strands knotted and mussed from playing outside in the breeze of dusk. The flamenco dancers were always a sight to behold. and playing for them every now and again was an absolute treat, but it was terribly exhausting as the stream of dancers taking to the floor seemed to be endless.
Tenderly, he leaned his guitar against the wall next to his bed, gingerly placing it there like he would a lover. He collapsed in a heap on the hard mattress, a sigh escaping him upon contact. The room felt claustrophobic and smelled of must, a far cry from the flat he'd had in London. It pained him to think that he had been in Spain for only a month, living alone and falling into a routine that denied him any possibility to make friends, connections, even acquaintances. While it was nice to know that, by day, there was simply no time to think about the loneliness he had forced himself into, by night it seemed that it was the only thing he could focus on before he forced himself into a restless sleep.
A month ago, in London, he would have come home from a performance with Evan, who would have waited for him in the wings with a smile and a kiss. They would have stumbled through the door together, hands and clothes touching and falling everywhere. He would have dropped to his knees in front of his lover, begging and looking like a wanton slut, but only for Evan. The evening would have been spent enjoying each other to the limits of their physical pleasure, Matthew nearly crying with the intimacy while Evan would have shivered until the aftershock of his orgasm ended.
Now Matthew came home alone to a flat he had offered to rent from someone he found on craigslist, to a flat that had paint peeling on all sides and housed an animal he hoped was a mouse, but it had never shown its face. He enjoyed no one, enjoyed only the palm of his hand when he could bring himself to picture an erotic vision other than his ex-lover. The end of both options usually resulted in tears, either from heartache or from shame that he had thought of another to bring himself to climax.
It pained him to think of the last time he had a full conversation with someone that did not involve a booking or what to do with the lease on his flat in the UK. Until Dominic had bravely spoken to him, it had been since Evan left him with a spare key and a shrug of his shoulders. Until Dominic, he had come home without anything but Evan to focus on.
The blonde had surprised him, startling him with the forwardness of his questions. Though, perhaps they weren't forward at all, and the month without friendly conversation had eluded him altogether. But what had struck Matthew the most was that he was simply a stunning creature to behold. Aviators slung from the neckline of his white shirt, leather jacket hanging loosely on his shoulders, tight skinny jeans practically sewn onto him. It was the unexpected force of his presence that caught Matthew off guard, but it was his unnatural beauty that had caused Matthew to repeatedly cross and uncross his legs in an attempt to hide his ever growing erection. He had been so sure that Dominic had noticed, the tightness of his trousers giving way to the shape of his cock. He had yearned for the comfort of the guitar to be placed in front him, like a shield, but it would have looked silly or obvious. Instead, he had tried to remain as casual as he could, though he was sure he appeared awkward and pathetic.
Shaking his head, he stood and pulled his shirt off him, standing by the single window in the flat and not caring that the blinds were not drawn. He giggled a bit at the way he seemed to flow in the moonlight, his pale skin making him look more like an apparition than a physical being. He sighed and hummed a little, undoing his belt, the button of his trousers and the fly. In the middle of shimmying out of them, he felt the left pocket give resistance to being folded and pouted, brow furrowed, as he shoved his hand inside to figure out what had been so stiff.
In the light of the moon, he pulled out a card, Dominic's business card. Toeing off his shoes and socks as he stood, he red the name Dominic Howard over and over until he was sure the font of the words were burned into his memory. Pushing his trousers down the rest of the way, he stepped out of them and kicked them away before dropping back to the bed, still reading the name.
He wanted to call Dominic, that was for sure, but he was unsure when to do so. It was not that he felt the elementary urge to wait a few days, following the rules of dating or courtesy, without making oneself look desperate. But, in truth, that's exactly what he was. Not simply for a career, but for a friend, someone to keep on the phone so he could talk about anything and nothing. It was silly of him, he knew, to think that a chance encounter with Dominic would lead to friendship, let alone a recording session. But Dominic had been right, when he said that nothing came of anything unless you were persistent.
Matthew would be persistent, he'd been persistent with Evan and he would do so again in his hope for friendship with Dominic, though he didn't exactly know why he craved such a close relationship with him. He had only briefly spoken to Dominic for five minutes, at most, but something clicked inside of him in those minutes. It was impossible to define what had happened, but it could be described as a crack in his shell forming, a removal of one of the bricks in the foundation of his metaphorical wall brought on simply because the blonde had said hello. His questions had pierced through holes Matthew didn't know existed in his barrier, getting straight to the heart of why Matthew was struggling and alone.
It had made Matthew question his daily pattern, made him question why he hadn't reached out to any of the neighbors. Language was not an issue, and it would be an absolute list it amongst his list of weak excuses. Even the students he tutored in the day were people he could have a conversation with. His lessons did not have to be so formal, so focused on getting the student to learn. He taught five students, each in different places in their understanding of the English language, and he was sure they each lead colourful lives; he was sure it would made him look more of a human being if he opened up to them once or twice about his life. Not that he had anything to tell them about, the excitement in his life simply playing a guitar, but he was pretty sure his students would be interested in learning what made their tutor tick.
Inside of him, his shell was breaking from the inside out, the changes brought on by the tall and leggy blonde. Dominic had given him his number on the grounds of business, not pleasure. But no one said Matthew couldn't hope for both.
And so, he closed his eyes, resolving to phone Dominic first thing in the morning. He fell asleep that way, holding the business card close to his chest and, for the first time since he'd arrived in Spain, he did not toss and turn the whole night through.