(no subject)
Alchemy
A set of not-quite drabbles
PG-13
Summary: Once you've met someone, you can't unmeet.
Disclaimer: All made up.
Feedback: Is better than babies made of chocolate lollies.
Note: inspired in part by Aimee Bender’s story “The Meeting.”
For themoononastick, my lovely compatriot in unusual pairings and the general whoring-out of Dom, and the only person likely to read this assortment. ;)
Alchemy
I.
Things were easier before him. But once you've met someone, you can't unmeet. You've breathed the same air and now your chemistry has changed. Move on all you like; going back is not an option.
Ian didn't quite smile. That's okay, because neither did Dom. A halfway thing, slightly more honest than a full curving of the lips. He had told him: we all exist somewhere between comedy and tragedy. It seemed fitting that their faces would show no elation, nor would they show misery.
“Seeing you again reminds me that I'll have to leave,” Ian had told him.
“Then don't look.” Dom held him close, possessive, and aimed the camera.
That night they moved in the dark, and parted before light.
II.
Someone told him that he held everyone he loved from behind. Before then, he’d never noticed. Now it was obvious all the time. So he moved to correct his posture, stay by their sides. But it never lasted and, when he wasn’t thinking, he stood behind her again, wrapping his arm around her chest, pulling her close.
She said, “I can’t breathe,” and laughed. But when she walked away, he found the air had gone thick, liquid if not solid. The tubing in his throat felt filled and funny, connected to an impossible set of deflated lungs.
He laughed at himself because there was nothing else to do.
At night, he tried to sleep on his back because she liked to curl her head into his neck. He held her near until she kicked away in her sleep. Rolling over, the pillow felt starchy and cold. But he tucked his arms up under it and finally slept too.
III.
Evangeline had noticed it first.
Dom never had to look for it now, though he did try to look away. Naveen’s hand on Barbara’s neck disturbed her, and he supposed it did him as well. Yet it wasn’t the control in the small gesture that made his stomach hollow and hot. It was jealousy.
He pressed the thin skin of his wrist until it turned white, a blue vein throbbing in the middle. It seemed as likely that the little wire of blood could be filled with green fluid as it could with red. Under the soft yellow light, green made more sense: a simple mathematics of color instead of numeral.
Addition never worked so simply with people. It always led to subtraction, until he was the remainder, alone.
So he couldn’t feel this, shouldn’t allow it.
But when Naveen placed his hand on Dom’s neck, holding him firmly against the wall, Dom did feel it. And when Naveen slid his hand down Dom’s trousers and whispered, “please,” he allowed it.
He was already new, shedding his skin.
IV.
No one would let him be alone, even when he wanted to be.
But he suspected he never really wanted that. Billy told him he didn’t, and Billy was so rarely wrong. Billy had the voice of reason. If you listened close, between all the jokes and tomfoolery, it was there. You just had to listen.
Dom could listen to Billy all day, like a favorite record. The simile never felt far from the truth. The music of Billy’s voice was obvious, but the music under that was omnipresent and even more beautiful. Like an ongoing symphony, Billy flowed from vivace to largo, dynamic in his unassuming frame. Dom could hear silent beats in his breath, like rests, and he pressed the phone to his ear counting them.
There were too many rests between now and then. They would fill manuscripts, fill halls. He crossed off the days and hung on the line.
“What will happen when you get here, Bill?” Dom asked.
Measured beats marked time. “I’ll be there,” he said finally.
And Dom thought, yes, that will be enough.
With spaces erased, Dom and Billy ceased to be who they were. The air sparked and, like magic, the world glinted with a new creation.
Based on these images:
1.
2.
3.
4.
(This part wasn’t based on any particular picture, however here’s a pretty one that never gets old.)
A set of not-quite drabbles
PG-13
Summary: Once you've met someone, you can't unmeet.
Disclaimer: All made up.
Feedback: Is better than babies made of chocolate lollies.
Note: inspired in part by Aimee Bender’s story “The Meeting.”
For themoononastick, my lovely compatriot in unusual pairings and the general whoring-out of Dom, and the only person likely to read this assortment. ;)
Alchemy
I.
Things were easier before him. But once you've met someone, you can't unmeet. You've breathed the same air and now your chemistry has changed. Move on all you like; going back is not an option.
Ian didn't quite smile. That's okay, because neither did Dom. A halfway thing, slightly more honest than a full curving of the lips. He had told him: we all exist somewhere between comedy and tragedy. It seemed fitting that their faces would show no elation, nor would they show misery.
“Seeing you again reminds me that I'll have to leave,” Ian had told him.
“Then don't look.” Dom held him close, possessive, and aimed the camera.
That night they moved in the dark, and parted before light.
II.
Someone told him that he held everyone he loved from behind. Before then, he’d never noticed. Now it was obvious all the time. So he moved to correct his posture, stay by their sides. But it never lasted and, when he wasn’t thinking, he stood behind her again, wrapping his arm around her chest, pulling her close.
She said, “I can’t breathe,” and laughed. But when she walked away, he found the air had gone thick, liquid if not solid. The tubing in his throat felt filled and funny, connected to an impossible set of deflated lungs.
He laughed at himself because there was nothing else to do.
At night, he tried to sleep on his back because she liked to curl her head into his neck. He held her near until she kicked away in her sleep. Rolling over, the pillow felt starchy and cold. But he tucked his arms up under it and finally slept too.
III.
Evangeline had noticed it first.
Dom never had to look for it now, though he did try to look away. Naveen’s hand on Barbara’s neck disturbed her, and he supposed it did him as well. Yet it wasn’t the control in the small gesture that made his stomach hollow and hot. It was jealousy.
He pressed the thin skin of his wrist until it turned white, a blue vein throbbing in the middle. It seemed as likely that the little wire of blood could be filled with green fluid as it could with red. Under the soft yellow light, green made more sense: a simple mathematics of color instead of numeral.
Addition never worked so simply with people. It always led to subtraction, until he was the remainder, alone.
So he couldn’t feel this, shouldn’t allow it.
But when Naveen placed his hand on Dom’s neck, holding him firmly against the wall, Dom did feel it. And when Naveen slid his hand down Dom’s trousers and whispered, “please,” he allowed it.
He was already new, shedding his skin.
IV.
No one would let him be alone, even when he wanted to be.
But he suspected he never really wanted that. Billy told him he didn’t, and Billy was so rarely wrong. Billy had the voice of reason. If you listened close, between all the jokes and tomfoolery, it was there. You just had to listen.
Dom could listen to Billy all day, like a favorite record. The simile never felt far from the truth. The music of Billy’s voice was obvious, but the music under that was omnipresent and even more beautiful. Like an ongoing symphony, Billy flowed from vivace to largo, dynamic in his unassuming frame. Dom could hear silent beats in his breath, like rests, and he pressed the phone to his ear counting them.
There were too many rests between now and then. They would fill manuscripts, fill halls. He crossed off the days and hung on the line.
“What will happen when you get here, Bill?” Dom asked.
Measured beats marked time. “I’ll be there,” he said finally.
And Dom thought, yes, that will be enough.
With spaces erased, Dom and Billy ceased to be who they were. The air sparked and, like magic, the world glinted with a new creation.
Based on these images:
1.
2.
3.
4.
(This part wasn’t based on any particular picture, however here’s a pretty one that never gets old.)