Another (1/3)
Title: Another (1/3)
Author: millionstar
Pairing: Matthew/Male OC, Matthew/Dominic, AU
Rating: PG
Warnings: Angst, mentions of abuse, language.
Summary: How do you help someone out of a toxic situation when they don't realize they're in one to begin with?
Disclaimer: I don't own Matt, Dom or Tom, no profit is being made, and this is complete fiction.
Beta/Support: A lot of people have seen bits of this over the last few months as it's come to life. Thank you to mcsparklez and
bluebirdwine for their honesty and input, and thank you to matturemuser and amusedinred for being fantastic and supportive bit
readers. You are all wonderful. x
Author's Note: As always, if you choose to read, I hope you enjoy, and thank you so much. It always means a lot to me.
He moved into the building on a rainy Thursday.
Dominic would always remember each detail from that day vividly -
well, one specific detail more than others. He rounded a corner
blindly, the boxes in his arms obstructing his view, and collided
with another individual, both of them crashing to the floor in a cloud
of Dominic’s briefs.
Of course it had to be his briefs.
“Oh my god, oh my god, I’m so sorry,” he exclaimed, turning a deep
shade of red. He stood and it was only then that he got a good look
at the person he’d, quite literally, run into. There, on the floor of
the carpeted hallway, sat a dark-haired man. Dominic could tell that
he was dark-haired because the pair of Dominic’s snow white briefs
that were currently draped across his head made his hair stand out.
At this point, Dominic began to contemplate his options, one of which
included turning and bolting for the exit, changing his name, and
moving at least three hours away from the scene of such humiliation.
Mid-contemplation, the young man on the floor removed the offending
undergarment from his head, looked up into Dominic’s eyes, and
coughed.
“Well. Good afternoon.”
“I’m really sorry,” Dominic repeated, offering the young man his hand,
“I’m Dominic, I’m new here, and clearly I have an issue with walking
and carrying boxes of underwear at the same time - apparently it turns
me into a clumsy idiot.”
The stranger blinked, his eyes scanning Dominic’s face, and
instinctively Dominic found himself doing the same thing in kind. For
two people who had just met, they felt as though they were meeting an
old and dear friend. “Not clumsy, no, and definitely not an idiot.
I’m Matthew. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Dominic intended to return the greeting, but he found himself looking
down at their still-joined hands.
“What’s this, then?”
A third voice cut into their reverie, Matthew releasing Dominic’s hand
abruptly and jumping to his feet. He fell into step beside another
young man, a tall redhead, and cleared his throat. “Sorry, I just met
our new neighbor - Dominic, this is Ian, my partner. Ian, this is
Dominic… I’m sorry, I didn’t get your last name?”
Though his mood had instantly deflated at the mention of the word
‘partner’, Dominic plastered a grin on his face. “Howard. Dominic
Howard. And yes, I’m moving into number 23.”
“How fantastic! We’re in number 27, right down the hall - we’ll be
expecting you over to dinner, and very soon! It’s great to meet you.”
He turned his attention to Matthew. “Matt, we’d better get going,
yeah?”
Matthew was still staring at Dominic.
“Well? Are you coming?” Ian asked.
“Yes,” Matthew had answered quickly, scurrying away after him as
Dominic looked down at his own hand, still able to feel Matthew’s
warmth on it.
During his first couple of weeks in the building, Dominic mostly kept
to himself. He’d been on his own for so long that he’d grown
accustomed to solitude. He was happy enough to sit alone in his
barely-furnished flat reading on most nights, always keeping an eye
out for anyone in the papers who might need a session drummer.
Anyone who would have seen him during these nights would think that
Dominic were a starving artist, but that was actually anything but the
case.
He chose to live a simple life; the fact that he’d come into an
unexpected, and large, inheritance from a long-lost uncle two years
ago had not changed that fact. Dominic had grown up with next to
nothing. He knew all too well the stress of poverty, and even though
he now had the means to own anything he wanted, he chose to donate to
charities on a monthly basis, himself living on a very basic stipend.
Material things mattered little to Dominic. He had his beloved
drumkit. That was all he needed.
Except, it wasn’t.
Just because he’d grown accustomed to being on his own didn’t mean
that he didn’t occasionally experience loneliness. He’d not thought
much about men until the moment that he’d bumped into Matthew and
didn’t want to let go of his hand. Until he found himself staring at
the door to number 27 whenever he passed it just hoping to get another
glimpse of the man behind it.
It would be his luck to find himself intrigued by a man who was
already taken. Besides, this was real life, not a fairy tale where
two people meet and suddenly experience this inexplicably cosmic
connection that seems completely fantastic yet feels simply… real.
Dominic reminded himself that he barely knew Matthew. To be fair, he
could be a horrible person - right? He resigned himself to the fact
that he would just have to put Matthew out of his mind, because he had
absolutely no intention of breaking up anyone’s relationship, that
much was certain.
He kept his head down, spending his days exploring the city. In a few
days, he’d scoped out the best used bookstores, a local bar that
frequently showcased live local bands, and an independent art gallery.
Dominic was pleased that he would be able to feed his brain with a
liberal dose of the arts and literature that he craved like oxygen.
He located the local homeless shelter, signing up to volunteer in any
way he could. If he wasn’t drumming, he could at least make himself
useful in other ways. His late father had always told him that life
was a gift; that it was imperative to spend as much of it as possible
remembering that there is always someone who can use a helping hand at
most, a smile in the least.
Dominic never forgot that.
On his fourth week in the city, he ducked into a local bakery with the
intent of picking up a few fresh croissants, and ran into Ian and
Matthew in the process. He was trying to decide if he should speak to
them or not when Ian noticed him.
“Hello there, neighbor,” he greeted Dominic with a wave, “fancy seeing
you here.”
“Hey there. Yeah, I was in the mood for something...um, something
baked.” Brilliant, Dominic, brilliant. Truly, you are a veritable
master of conversation.
Matthew turned around, eyes widening, but only for a beat, at the
sight of Dominic. Dominic smiled at him and nodded his head.
“Matthew.”
“Hello,” Matthew said quietly, Dominic noticing just how blue his eyes were.
“Run along and get the usual, yeah, babe?” Ian said, Matthew turning
to the counter to place his order. Ian turned to Dominic, arms
crossed. “So, how’s things?”
“Things are fine, things are fine. And how are things with the two of you?”
“Not bad, thank you! I’ve been exhausted lately; my back is killing
me. I work for an advertising firm and have been pulling some long
nights. It’s good money, so I can’t really complain.” He rolled his
eyes in Matthew's direction. "After all, we can't all sit at home
unemployed like Matthew."
Dominic shot a glance at Matthew's back and spoke before he could stop
himself. “Well, money isn’t everything.”
Ian laughed loudly, slapping Dominic lightly on the shoulder. His eyes
traveled up and down Dominic's body, twice. Dominic couldn't believe
his eyes, was Ian actually checking him out so blatantly with Matthew
practically right next to them? “True, that. And what exactly do you
do for a living again, Dominic?”
“I’m a musician. A drummer.”
This bit of information seemed to amuse Ian. “Oh? How’s that working?”
“It’s working just fine.”
“How completely lovely for you,” Ian smiled.
Dominic turned to Matthew, who had joined them, purchases in hand.
“So, Matthew, ho-”
“It’s been just super talking with you but we should really get
going,” Ian interrupted, reaching for Matthew’s hand, “isn’t that
right, Matt?”
Matthew nodded, glancing at his watch.
“See you around, Dominic! We’ll have to get together for dinner
soon!” Ian waved as he led Matthew away.
Dominic waved and turned to the young woman behind the counter, who
was still staring at the door in the wake of Ian and Matthew’s exit.
“What a prick,” she said quietly.
Dominic had to agree.
He saw Matthew and Ian occasionally in passing, and in those moments
Ian was always exceedingly polite, and Matthew always subdued and
quiet, his hands full of shopping bags or laundry. Dominic waited for
a reiteration of Ian’s initial mention of a dinner invitation, which
he’d been looking forward to accepting, simply for a chance to see
Matthew again, but it never came. He found himself wondering why
Matthew was with a man like Ian, who liked to belittle him to people
he barely knew.
The days passed, morphing into weeks. Dominic had been indulging in
the odd drumming gig, spending most of his nights devouring the works
of Lovecraft, listening to The Clash, and trying desperately to banish
all thoughts of Matthew from his mind. A one-night-stand with a man
he’d met downtown on a random Saturday night had sated his physical
cravings, but it left him feeling emotionally empty and somehow
tainted. Meaningless couplings were not what he was looking for.
The very next night, Dominic had just turned out his lights with a
yawn, intent on crawling into bed to sleep the sleep of the dead, when
he heard a shout outside his window. He paused, his ears reaching for
the sound, and sure enough, it came again, the sound of someone
yelling. Dominic pulled back his curtain and peeked out into the
parking area, curious for the source of the commotion.
He was stunned when he located it.
Matthew and Ian were there, and by the looks - and sounds - of it, Ian
was extremely angry, and focusing said anger on Matthew, who stood
next to him, head down, flinching with every angry word Ian shot his
way. Dominic gripped the curtain tightly, his pulse racing. What on
earth was going on down there? He bit his lip and watched as Ian
suddenly pulled Matthew into his arms, soothing him with a long
embrace. As quickly as the incident had begun, it ended with Ian’s
arm wrapped around Matthew as they walked into the building.
Dominic got into bed frowning, playing the scene over in his mind
until he fell asleep.
A few days later in the laundry room, Dominic met Tom Kirk, another
young man who lived in the building. They shared a lot of things in
common, namely the same taste in music, which led to a hour-long
conversation on the early days of punk rock. Tom worked in
photography at the local newspaper, was handsome, friendly, and in
ownership of a wicked sense of humor. After removing what seemed like
hundreds of socks from the dryer, he turned to Dominic.
“I have an epic idea.”
“How epic? Where on the Scale Of Epicness does it fall?’ Dominic
asked, amused, as he folded his yellow skinnies.
“Dude, this one goes to eleven. Have you eaten yet? Wanna head to
mine and grab a bite?”
“You don’t have other plans?”
“As if! My girlfriend is visiting her family up north for two weeks,
so I’m all alone - I’d love it if you’d come over and at least have a
pizza or something with me. It’s too damn quiet here at night for me
right now.”
Dominic smiled; he'd liked Tom instantly. “Sure thing, I’d love that!”
About an hour later, they found themselves at Tom's sitting opposite a
large meat lover’s special from the pizza joint down the street.
“So, what do you think of the building so far?”
“It’s nice. Mostly quiet, actually. I’ve met you, and Matthew and
Ian from down the hall, but that’s it so far.”
“Oh?” Tom paused, hand poised over the pizza box. As though he’d had
second thoughts, he sat back down on the couch and turned the volume
down on the television. “What was your impression of them, if you
don’t mind my asking?”
“It happened so fast that I didn’t really have time to formulate an
opinion. Why?”
“I don’t know. It’s going to make me sound like a gossip, and also
like some creepy, nosy neighbor.”
“We’re both adults here, just say what’s on your mind, Tom.”
“I just… well let’s just say that theirs doesn’t seem to be a very
healthy relationship.”
Dominic took a drag from his beer. “What?”
“I think that Matthew Bellamy is one of the nicest, gentlest people in
this building, and possibly in the entire galaxy. And, I also think
that he’s much too good for Ian Evanston.”
“How so?”
“About three weeks ago, my girlfriend and I were walking down the hall
and we heard the sound of glass breaking coming from their flat.
Which, alone, wouldn’t have been a big deal, except, well…” Tom
trailed off, looking down at the floor. “Then the shouting started.”
Dominic’s stomach dropped. “Oh,” he whispered.
“At that point, what do you do, you know? At best, you tell yourself
you’re merely concerned, but at worst you feel incredibly
inappropriate for eavesdropping. I sent my date on to my flat, but
held my position. It… wasn’t pretty. Best as I can tell, it had been
Matthew’s turn to pick up their dry cleaning, and he’d failed to do
so. Ian… he flipped, fucking flipped. He was shouting the
most hateful, horrible things to Matthew. I was embarrassed for
Matthew, then I heard the unmistakable sound of someone being slapped
across the face, hard. I snapped, and that’s when I pounded on
the door.”
“What happened then?”
“It took a minute or so for Matthew to open the door just a crack. I
asked him if everything was alright, that I’d been passing by and
heard glass breaking. He laughed and apologized for having the
television on too loudly, that it wouldn’t happen again. When he’d
opened the door, I could only see the right side of his face, but when
he closed the door he forgot himself and turned away. His left cheek
bore Ian’s handprint, Dom. That’s how hard he’d been slapped.”
Tom sighed, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands. “I was
sick. I’ve been sick ever since then to be honest. But, I don’t know
how to help him. I’ve known them for about a year now, but mostly in
passing, you know? I mean, I feel helpless knowing that happened -
and what worries me most is how many times has it happened that nobody
knows about?”
Suddenly, Dominic remembered that night he’d witnessed the two of them
arguing, and the fact that it hadn’t actually been an argument with
two participants. What he’d actually witnessed had been Ian shouting
at Matthew while Matthew simply stood, head down, and silent.
“Have you ever noticed that when you see them together Matthew’s
always carrying their things?”
Dominic nodded. He suddenly couldn’t take another bite.
“Ian treats him like a slave. He works at a large advertising firm in
the city, and doesn’t miss an opportunity to brag about it. Matthew
is a stay-at-home-partner. He’s actually a songwriter.” Tom smiled a
sad smile. “I’d bet anything that he’s talented as fuck, too. I
wonder how often he gets the chance to showcase his work, or if he
gets to showcase it at all?”
Songwriter. Dominic couldn’t help but smile a bit himself.
The more he learned about Matthew Bellamy, the more he liked him. His
attachment was increasing in intensity - but it was becoming less
about Dominic’s personal wants and more about Matthew’s safety and
well-being.
“It’s not right. Do you think if we tried to talk to Matthew-”
“I’ve tried already to intervene and nothing came of it.”
“What?”
“Matthew always collects his mail downstairs around eleven in the
morning while Ian is at work - it’s the only time I see him alone. I
approached him a couple of days later and told him that he could
always come to me if he ever needed anything. I didn’t mention what
had happened on that night, and neither did he - but he basically, in
his own quiet way, told me to mind my own business. He doesn’t want
anyone’s help. At least,” Tom shook his head, “that’s what he says.”
“He never smiles,” Dominic said suddenly.
“He - what?”
“Have you ever noticed that?”
Because I sure have.
Tom opened his mouth to speak, then closed it abruptly. He merely
shook his head and put his plate down with a sigh.
That night, in bed, Dominic found himself unable to sleep. He was
horrified at Matthew’s situation and he simply couldn’t get it out of
his mind. He kept wondering if perhaps it was all a massive
misunderstanding, if perhaps the things Tom had seen and heard could,
somehow, be explained. Even so, though, he was reminded of the sight
of Ian yelling at Matthew outside his window the other night and knew
that what was happening was definitely, well, happening. There was no
explaining it away, and no sugar-coating it.
The next morning, with Tom’s words still echoing in his mind, Dominic
made his way down to the empty mailroom. After giving up various
nonchalant poses in an attempt to look casual, he gave up and just
decided to wander over to the window to watch the birds outside. He
was wondering just how conspicuous he looked standing there, when,
right at eleven on the spot, Matthew walked in.
He didn’t see Dominic at first, which gave Dominic a few moments to
study him. Quite simply, Matthew took Dominic’s breath away. He was
dressed in a simple white t-shirt and matching jeans, a pair of black
braces hooked over his shoulders. A shock of ebony hair was spiked
ever so slightly. When he opened his mailbox Dominic was enthralled
by the smoothness of his arm - and at the ivory tone of the skin
itself. He wasn’t a tall man, no; he put Dominic in mind of a pixie.
Dominic cleared his throat.
Matthew turned, one hand against his chest and his eyes wide. “Oh, I
didn’t realize anyone else was here.” He looked like he’d nearly been
startled out of his skin.
Dominic mentally added the sound of Matthew’s voice to the List of
Beautiful Bellamy Attributes he’d been crafting in his mind.
“Just me,” he smiled, “just, you know, checking for mail.” Jesus,
Dominic, you turn into a blithering idiot in front of this man every
time you get close to him.
Matthew nodded. “Right.”
“So, how have you been? I haven’t really had a chance to get to speak
to you properly since I got here.”
Matthew looked nervously around the small room, as though he were
scoping out escape options. Dominic began to wonder if this had been
a mistake; Matthew seemed to grow more anxious as the seconds passed.
“I really need to get back up to the flat, I-”
“I could walk you?”
Matthew looked Dominic in the eye and drew a deep breath. “Okay,
yeah, sure.” They fell into step together and ascended the stairwell.
“So, what do you do, Matthew?”
“I’m just a songwriter, nothing special.”
“My arse, nothing special!”
Matthew turning to him, one eyebrow raised.
“Sorry, poor choice of words. I just meant that to say that being a
songwriter is nothing special is just incredible to me. Music is pure
expression, a singularly personal form of it, and anyone who chooses
to give their life over to it should be celebrated. Don’t sell
yourself short.”
“Well, I just dabble here and there. I’ve not sold anything in a few
years now, but I can’t bear to give it up. I’m lucky that Ian works
and allows me to pursue it, really.”
“I bet he’s proud of you.”
“I’ve not done anything for him to be proud of,” Matthew shrugged.
“Notebooks filled with unpublished lyrics aren’t worthy of
celebration.” He glanced at his watch, down the hall, then to
Dominic, just as they arrived at Matthew’s door. “Well, it was nice
talking with you.”
Before Dominic could reply, the door shut in his face.
Author: millionstar
Pairing: Matthew/Male OC, Matthew/Dominic, AU
Rating: PG
Warnings: Angst, mentions of abuse, language.
Summary: How do you help someone out of a toxic situation when they don't realize they're in one to begin with?
Disclaimer: I don't own Matt, Dom or Tom, no profit is being made, and this is complete fiction.
Beta/Support: A lot of people have seen bits of this over the last few months as it's come to life. Thank you to mcsparklez and
bluebirdwine for their honesty and input, and thank you to matturemuser and amusedinred for being fantastic and supportive bit
readers. You are all wonderful. x
Author's Note: As always, if you choose to read, I hope you enjoy, and thank you so much. It always means a lot to me.
He moved into the building on a rainy Thursday.
Dominic would always remember each detail from that day vividly -
well, one specific detail more than others. He rounded a corner
blindly, the boxes in his arms obstructing his view, and collided
with another individual, both of them crashing to the floor in a cloud
of Dominic’s briefs.
Of course it had to be his briefs.
“Oh my god, oh my god, I’m so sorry,” he exclaimed, turning a deep
shade of red. He stood and it was only then that he got a good look
at the person he’d, quite literally, run into. There, on the floor of
the carpeted hallway, sat a dark-haired man. Dominic could tell that
he was dark-haired because the pair of Dominic’s snow white briefs
that were currently draped across his head made his hair stand out.
At this point, Dominic began to contemplate his options, one of which
included turning and bolting for the exit, changing his name, and
moving at least three hours away from the scene of such humiliation.
Mid-contemplation, the young man on the floor removed the offending
undergarment from his head, looked up into Dominic’s eyes, and
coughed.
“Well. Good afternoon.”
“I’m really sorry,” Dominic repeated, offering the young man his hand,
“I’m Dominic, I’m new here, and clearly I have an issue with walking
and carrying boxes of underwear at the same time - apparently it turns
me into a clumsy idiot.”
The stranger blinked, his eyes scanning Dominic’s face, and
instinctively Dominic found himself doing the same thing in kind. For
two people who had just met, they felt as though they were meeting an
old and dear friend. “Not clumsy, no, and definitely not an idiot.
I’m Matthew. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Dominic intended to return the greeting, but he found himself looking
down at their still-joined hands.
“What’s this, then?”
A third voice cut into their reverie, Matthew releasing Dominic’s hand
abruptly and jumping to his feet. He fell into step beside another
young man, a tall redhead, and cleared his throat. “Sorry, I just met
our new neighbor - Dominic, this is Ian, my partner. Ian, this is
Dominic… I’m sorry, I didn’t get your last name?”
Though his mood had instantly deflated at the mention of the word
‘partner’, Dominic plastered a grin on his face. “Howard. Dominic
Howard. And yes, I’m moving into number 23.”
“How fantastic! We’re in number 27, right down the hall - we’ll be
expecting you over to dinner, and very soon! It’s great to meet you.”
He turned his attention to Matthew. “Matt, we’d better get going,
yeah?”
Matthew was still staring at Dominic.
“Well? Are you coming?” Ian asked.
“Yes,” Matthew had answered quickly, scurrying away after him as
Dominic looked down at his own hand, still able to feel Matthew’s
warmth on it.
During his first couple of weeks in the building, Dominic mostly kept
to himself. He’d been on his own for so long that he’d grown
accustomed to solitude. He was happy enough to sit alone in his
barely-furnished flat reading on most nights, always keeping an eye
out for anyone in the papers who might need a session drummer.
Anyone who would have seen him during these nights would think that
Dominic were a starving artist, but that was actually anything but the
case.
He chose to live a simple life; the fact that he’d come into an
unexpected, and large, inheritance from a long-lost uncle two years
ago had not changed that fact. Dominic had grown up with next to
nothing. He knew all too well the stress of poverty, and even though
he now had the means to own anything he wanted, he chose to donate to
charities on a monthly basis, himself living on a very basic stipend.
Material things mattered little to Dominic. He had his beloved
drumkit. That was all he needed.
Except, it wasn’t.
Just because he’d grown accustomed to being on his own didn’t mean
that he didn’t occasionally experience loneliness. He’d not thought
much about men until the moment that he’d bumped into Matthew and
didn’t want to let go of his hand. Until he found himself staring at
the door to number 27 whenever he passed it just hoping to get another
glimpse of the man behind it.
It would be his luck to find himself intrigued by a man who was
already taken. Besides, this was real life, not a fairy tale where
two people meet and suddenly experience this inexplicably cosmic
connection that seems completely fantastic yet feels simply… real.
Dominic reminded himself that he barely knew Matthew. To be fair, he
could be a horrible person - right? He resigned himself to the fact
that he would just have to put Matthew out of his mind, because he had
absolutely no intention of breaking up anyone’s relationship, that
much was certain.
He kept his head down, spending his days exploring the city. In a few
days, he’d scoped out the best used bookstores, a local bar that
frequently showcased live local bands, and an independent art gallery.
Dominic was pleased that he would be able to feed his brain with a
liberal dose of the arts and literature that he craved like oxygen.
He located the local homeless shelter, signing up to volunteer in any
way he could. If he wasn’t drumming, he could at least make himself
useful in other ways. His late father had always told him that life
was a gift; that it was imperative to spend as much of it as possible
remembering that there is always someone who can use a helping hand at
most, a smile in the least.
Dominic never forgot that.
On his fourth week in the city, he ducked into a local bakery with the
intent of picking up a few fresh croissants, and ran into Ian and
Matthew in the process. He was trying to decide if he should speak to
them or not when Ian noticed him.
“Hello there, neighbor,” he greeted Dominic with a wave, “fancy seeing
you here.”
“Hey there. Yeah, I was in the mood for something...um, something
baked.” Brilliant, Dominic, brilliant. Truly, you are a veritable
master of conversation.
Matthew turned around, eyes widening, but only for a beat, at the
sight of Dominic. Dominic smiled at him and nodded his head.
“Matthew.”
“Hello,” Matthew said quietly, Dominic noticing just how blue his eyes were.
“Run along and get the usual, yeah, babe?” Ian said, Matthew turning
to the counter to place his order. Ian turned to Dominic, arms
crossed. “So, how’s things?”
“Things are fine, things are fine. And how are things with the two of you?”
“Not bad, thank you! I’ve been exhausted lately; my back is killing
me. I work for an advertising firm and have been pulling some long
nights. It’s good money, so I can’t really complain.” He rolled his
eyes in Matthew's direction. "After all, we can't all sit at home
unemployed like Matthew."
Dominic shot a glance at Matthew's back and spoke before he could stop
himself. “Well, money isn’t everything.”
Ian laughed loudly, slapping Dominic lightly on the shoulder. His eyes
traveled up and down Dominic's body, twice. Dominic couldn't believe
his eyes, was Ian actually checking him out so blatantly with Matthew
practically right next to them? “True, that. And what exactly do you
do for a living again, Dominic?”
“I’m a musician. A drummer.”
This bit of information seemed to amuse Ian. “Oh? How’s that working?”
“It’s working just fine.”
“How completely lovely for you,” Ian smiled.
Dominic turned to Matthew, who had joined them, purchases in hand.
“So, Matthew, ho-”
“It’s been just super talking with you but we should really get
going,” Ian interrupted, reaching for Matthew’s hand, “isn’t that
right, Matt?”
Matthew nodded, glancing at his watch.
“See you around, Dominic! We’ll have to get together for dinner
soon!” Ian waved as he led Matthew away.
Dominic waved and turned to the young woman behind the counter, who
was still staring at the door in the wake of Ian and Matthew’s exit.
“What a prick,” she said quietly.
Dominic had to agree.
He saw Matthew and Ian occasionally in passing, and in those moments
Ian was always exceedingly polite, and Matthew always subdued and
quiet, his hands full of shopping bags or laundry. Dominic waited for
a reiteration of Ian’s initial mention of a dinner invitation, which
he’d been looking forward to accepting, simply for a chance to see
Matthew again, but it never came. He found himself wondering why
Matthew was with a man like Ian, who liked to belittle him to people
he barely knew.
The days passed, morphing into weeks. Dominic had been indulging in
the odd drumming gig, spending most of his nights devouring the works
of Lovecraft, listening to The Clash, and trying desperately to banish
all thoughts of Matthew from his mind. A one-night-stand with a man
he’d met downtown on a random Saturday night had sated his physical
cravings, but it left him feeling emotionally empty and somehow
tainted. Meaningless couplings were not what he was looking for.
The very next night, Dominic had just turned out his lights with a
yawn, intent on crawling into bed to sleep the sleep of the dead, when
he heard a shout outside his window. He paused, his ears reaching for
the sound, and sure enough, it came again, the sound of someone
yelling. Dominic pulled back his curtain and peeked out into the
parking area, curious for the source of the commotion.
He was stunned when he located it.
Matthew and Ian were there, and by the looks - and sounds - of it, Ian
was extremely angry, and focusing said anger on Matthew, who stood
next to him, head down, flinching with every angry word Ian shot his
way. Dominic gripped the curtain tightly, his pulse racing. What on
earth was going on down there? He bit his lip and watched as Ian
suddenly pulled Matthew into his arms, soothing him with a long
embrace. As quickly as the incident had begun, it ended with Ian’s
arm wrapped around Matthew as they walked into the building.
Dominic got into bed frowning, playing the scene over in his mind
until he fell asleep.
A few days later in the laundry room, Dominic met Tom Kirk, another
young man who lived in the building. They shared a lot of things in
common, namely the same taste in music, which led to a hour-long
conversation on the early days of punk rock. Tom worked in
photography at the local newspaper, was handsome, friendly, and in
ownership of a wicked sense of humor. After removing what seemed like
hundreds of socks from the dryer, he turned to Dominic.
“I have an epic idea.”
“How epic? Where on the Scale Of Epicness does it fall?’ Dominic
asked, amused, as he folded his yellow skinnies.
“Dude, this one goes to eleven. Have you eaten yet? Wanna head to
mine and grab a bite?”
“You don’t have other plans?”
“As if! My girlfriend is visiting her family up north for two weeks,
so I’m all alone - I’d love it if you’d come over and at least have a
pizza or something with me. It’s too damn quiet here at night for me
right now.”
Dominic smiled; he'd liked Tom instantly. “Sure thing, I’d love that!”
About an hour later, they found themselves at Tom's sitting opposite a
large meat lover’s special from the pizza joint down the street.
“So, what do you think of the building so far?”
“It’s nice. Mostly quiet, actually. I’ve met you, and Matthew and
Ian from down the hall, but that’s it so far.”
“Oh?” Tom paused, hand poised over the pizza box. As though he’d had
second thoughts, he sat back down on the couch and turned the volume
down on the television. “What was your impression of them, if you
don’t mind my asking?”
“It happened so fast that I didn’t really have time to formulate an
opinion. Why?”
“I don’t know. It’s going to make me sound like a gossip, and also
like some creepy, nosy neighbor.”
“We’re both adults here, just say what’s on your mind, Tom.”
“I just… well let’s just say that theirs doesn’t seem to be a very
healthy relationship.”
Dominic took a drag from his beer. “What?”
“I think that Matthew Bellamy is one of the nicest, gentlest people in
this building, and possibly in the entire galaxy. And, I also think
that he’s much too good for Ian Evanston.”
“How so?”
“About three weeks ago, my girlfriend and I were walking down the hall
and we heard the sound of glass breaking coming from their flat.
Which, alone, wouldn’t have been a big deal, except, well…” Tom
trailed off, looking down at the floor. “Then the shouting started.”
Dominic’s stomach dropped. “Oh,” he whispered.
“At that point, what do you do, you know? At best, you tell yourself
you’re merely concerned, but at worst you feel incredibly
inappropriate for eavesdropping. I sent my date on to my flat, but
held my position. It… wasn’t pretty. Best as I can tell, it had been
Matthew’s turn to pick up their dry cleaning, and he’d failed to do
so. Ian… he flipped, fucking flipped. He was shouting the
most hateful, horrible things to Matthew. I was embarrassed for
Matthew, then I heard the unmistakable sound of someone being slapped
across the face, hard. I snapped, and that’s when I pounded on
the door.”
“What happened then?”
“It took a minute or so for Matthew to open the door just a crack. I
asked him if everything was alright, that I’d been passing by and
heard glass breaking. He laughed and apologized for having the
television on too loudly, that it wouldn’t happen again. When he’d
opened the door, I could only see the right side of his face, but when
he closed the door he forgot himself and turned away. His left cheek
bore Ian’s handprint, Dom. That’s how hard he’d been slapped.”
Tom sighed, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands. “I was
sick. I’ve been sick ever since then to be honest. But, I don’t know
how to help him. I’ve known them for about a year now, but mostly in
passing, you know? I mean, I feel helpless knowing that happened -
and what worries me most is how many times has it happened that nobody
knows about?”
Suddenly, Dominic remembered that night he’d witnessed the two of them
arguing, and the fact that it hadn’t actually been an argument with
two participants. What he’d actually witnessed had been Ian shouting
at Matthew while Matthew simply stood, head down, and silent.
“Have you ever noticed that when you see them together Matthew’s
always carrying their things?”
Dominic nodded. He suddenly couldn’t take another bite.
“Ian treats him like a slave. He works at a large advertising firm in
the city, and doesn’t miss an opportunity to brag about it. Matthew
is a stay-at-home-partner. He’s actually a songwriter.” Tom smiled a
sad smile. “I’d bet anything that he’s talented as fuck, too. I
wonder how often he gets the chance to showcase his work, or if he
gets to showcase it at all?”
Songwriter. Dominic couldn’t help but smile a bit himself.
The more he learned about Matthew Bellamy, the more he liked him. His
attachment was increasing in intensity - but it was becoming less
about Dominic’s personal wants and more about Matthew’s safety and
well-being.
“It’s not right. Do you think if we tried to talk to Matthew-”
“I’ve tried already to intervene and nothing came of it.”
“What?”
“Matthew always collects his mail downstairs around eleven in the
morning while Ian is at work - it’s the only time I see him alone. I
approached him a couple of days later and told him that he could
always come to me if he ever needed anything. I didn’t mention what
had happened on that night, and neither did he - but he basically, in
his own quiet way, told me to mind my own business. He doesn’t want
anyone’s help. At least,” Tom shook his head, “that’s what he says.”
“He never smiles,” Dominic said suddenly.
“He - what?”
“Have you ever noticed that?”
Because I sure have.
Tom opened his mouth to speak, then closed it abruptly. He merely
shook his head and put his plate down with a sigh.
That night, in bed, Dominic found himself unable to sleep. He was
horrified at Matthew’s situation and he simply couldn’t get it out of
his mind. He kept wondering if perhaps it was all a massive
misunderstanding, if perhaps the things Tom had seen and heard could,
somehow, be explained. Even so, though, he was reminded of the sight
of Ian yelling at Matthew outside his window the other night and knew
that what was happening was definitely, well, happening. There was no
explaining it away, and no sugar-coating it.
The next morning, with Tom’s words still echoing in his mind, Dominic
made his way down to the empty mailroom. After giving up various
nonchalant poses in an attempt to look casual, he gave up and just
decided to wander over to the window to watch the birds outside. He
was wondering just how conspicuous he looked standing there, when,
right at eleven on the spot, Matthew walked in.
He didn’t see Dominic at first, which gave Dominic a few moments to
study him. Quite simply, Matthew took Dominic’s breath away. He was
dressed in a simple white t-shirt and matching jeans, a pair of black
braces hooked over his shoulders. A shock of ebony hair was spiked
ever so slightly. When he opened his mailbox Dominic was enthralled
by the smoothness of his arm - and at the ivory tone of the skin
itself. He wasn’t a tall man, no; he put Dominic in mind of a pixie.
Dominic cleared his throat.
Matthew turned, one hand against his chest and his eyes wide. “Oh, I
didn’t realize anyone else was here.” He looked like he’d nearly been
startled out of his skin.
Dominic mentally added the sound of Matthew’s voice to the List of
Beautiful Bellamy Attributes he’d been crafting in his mind.
“Just me,” he smiled, “just, you know, checking for mail.” Jesus,
Dominic, you turn into a blithering idiot in front of this man every
time you get close to him.
Matthew nodded. “Right.”
“So, how have you been? I haven’t really had a chance to get to speak
to you properly since I got here.”
Matthew looked nervously around the small room, as though he were
scoping out escape options. Dominic began to wonder if this had been
a mistake; Matthew seemed to grow more anxious as the seconds passed.
“I really need to get back up to the flat, I-”
“I could walk you?”
Matthew looked Dominic in the eye and drew a deep breath. “Okay,
yeah, sure.” They fell into step together and ascended the stairwell.
“So, what do you do, Matthew?”
“I’m just a songwriter, nothing special.”
“My arse, nothing special!”
Matthew turning to him, one eyebrow raised.
“Sorry, poor choice of words. I just meant that to say that being a
songwriter is nothing special is just incredible to me. Music is pure
expression, a singularly personal form of it, and anyone who chooses
to give their life over to it should be celebrated. Don’t sell
yourself short.”
“Well, I just dabble here and there. I’ve not sold anything in a few
years now, but I can’t bear to give it up. I’m lucky that Ian works
and allows me to pursue it, really.”
“I bet he’s proud of you.”
“I’ve not done anything for him to be proud of,” Matthew shrugged.
“Notebooks filled with unpublished lyrics aren’t worthy of
celebration.” He glanced at his watch, down the hall, then to
Dominic, just as they arrived at Matthew’s door. “Well, it was nice
talking with you.”
Before Dominic could reply, the door shut in his face.