Ruby Tuesday
Author: Stargeek101
Beta: me
Rating: NC17
Summary: Matthew finds a beaten street kid and plans to save him from the world, but his idea of helping isn't quite what the boy had been expecting.
Pairing: BellDom
Feedback: Loved and cherished.
Warnings: Language, attempted rape and accidental murder.
Disclaimers: I do not own Matthew Bellamy or Dominic Howard. This is fiction.
Notes: Huzzah! As of right now, for the past twenty or so minutes, I AM DONE HIGH SCHOOL! YEAH!
It's half to six and I have a couple hours till sundown. My feet are aching from a long day outside and my main goal, for the time being, is to get home. Tonight would be a great night for a bath, with lots of bubbles and a small yellow duck. Maybe a good movie will be on. Nah, who am I kidding? It's Tuesday. Nothing good ever happens on a Tuesday.
I kick a large pebble a few meters in front of me and onto the street. With a sigh, I shove my cold fingers into my pockets. April's usually warmer than this. Isn't it? Or maybe that's the hope. April's always cold and wet. At least I'm dry.
The streetlights have turned themselves on, though they aren't quite needed. It's not like there's anyone else out here. It seems to just be me, and a raccoon looting some forgotten backpack in someone's front yard.
I check my watch. Nearly seven. I'm hungry.
I'm only a couple blocks from my house when I'm met with a young group of boys. Maybe sixteen or seventeen years old. They're all in a crowd by a fence, making a lot of noise.
"You fucker!" One shouts. "Where's my money?"
"I- I don't have it," another voice says in a whimper.
The boys start kicking, presumably the poor bloke who owes them a few quid. The young man begs, pleads for them to stop. He wails in pain as their rough shoes meet with his weak ribs.
I can't take this. No one deserves this. "Oi!" I shout, pulling out my mobile. "I've half a mind to call the coppers!"
A dozen eyes turn my way before their owners bolt off in random directions. Only a small blonde boy remains, croutched in a bleeding ball on the ground. I run towards him. "Hey, you ok?"
He nods gently, thanking me in a whisper. He stands himself up, but the pain in his chest is too great and he falls against me for a moment.
"Do you want me to take you to the hospital?"
"No. Thanks."
"You sure?" Again, he nods. "Do you live far? I could grab my car and take you home."
His eyes grow wide and he backs away. "No! No, please."
"Oh. Ok." I hold up my hands. "I won't take you home then, but you can't stay here. Look, how about you come to mine yeah? I'll make you some tea. Sound good?"
"I'm fine, really." The teen replies.
"Where are you going to stay?" He doesn't respond. "Exactly. You're coming to mine."
"I don't know you."
"Matthew." I hold out my hand. "Matthew Bellamy."
"Dom." He smiles, ignoring my waiting hand.
"Pleasure to meet you Dom." I wrap an arm around his shoulder and lead him down the sidewalk. "I live a few minutes down the road. You can phone someone from there, or spend the night if you wish. I've got a guest room."
"Look Matthew, you're really kind, but I assure you that I'm fine."
"Don't be lying to me. Your shirt's torn and filthy, your lip is split and you're clutching your stomach. Don't tell me you're ok. I have a warm room, lots of food, a hot shower and a large screen telly. How does that sound for good?"
His grey eys soften and a slight smile splits out across his face. "Really? But why would you do that for me? I'm just a stupid fucked up cunt."
"Hey. Who says that?"
He doesn't answer with anything more than a shrug.
"You look like a very sweet kid. You look like someone who has been misread and treated poorly his whole life. I can see the pain in your eyes. I want to fix it. I want to make you right."
"Sorry to burst your bubble, but I seriously doubt any of my problems can be fixed in one night."
"Then stay a week. A month. Experience true happiness for at least that long. Can you do that for me?"
"Yeah, sure." He smiles. "I still don't know what I did to ever have someone as generous as you. Thank you so much."
It's no trouble to me, really. I do this all the time. There are many lost souls on the streets and I tend to stumble upon them. I often have a young boy staying with me. I show them what life is about. I show them happiness. I give them bliss.
Finally, as the skies are darkening, we arrive at my house. I lead Dom to my dark blue door and reach into my pocket to pull out my keys. I press the small, silver metal into my lock and twist, pushing my door open. I run my hand along the wall, blindly searching until it finds the switch and the lights turn on.
"Come in." I smile. Dom had stayed on the porch, even after I had taken off my jacket. "Make yourself at home." I point to the couch. "You could watch telly or, uh, the washroom's over there if you want to have a shower or something. You look about my size - I could get you some clean clothes to change into. Are you hungry?"
"Yeah."
"What would you like?" He shrugs. "A surprise. Cool. I'll be right back."
I run to my room and pull open some drawers. I find a black t-shirt, some jeans and boxers. I grab a towel from my closet and head back for the livingroom. "Here." I pass the pile of laundry to him. "Go wash up. I'll have supper ready when you're done."
He silently makes his way to the toilet as I head to the kitchen. I open some cupboards, but nothing seems very pleasing. The fridge offers more success as I pull out some broccoli, carrots and steak.
I boil the veggies and roast the meat. I can hear Dom humming in the washroom as he dries himself. He took a short shower. I pull a couple clean plates out and start serving the meat, and he walks in behind me. I turn to see him with his wet blonde hair. It's gone fluffy and some beads of water have clung to a couple strands. My clothes fit him tightly, showing off the shape of his muscles. His feet are bare, and longer than my own. Overall, he looks like an angel.
"Hi." I blink and rub my hands on my shirt. I've been staring.
"Smells good."
"Oh, great. I'm glad. I was hoping you weren't a vegetarian or something."
"Nope. I'm drooling at the smell. I haven't had food like this in ages."
"How old are you?"
"Sixteen, but my family couldn't afford much more than soup and crackers."
"Where's your family now?" I ask, finishing with serving the rest of the veggies.
He shrugs again. "Don't care. They didn't want me." He picks up a carrot and takes a bite. "How old are you?"
"Thirty three."
"Have you ever taken in other people before?"
"Yes, quite a number. A couple months ago I had a bloke about your age here for a couple days. Christopher was his name. His father's an alcoholic, and he needed a safe place to stay, so I took him in. He didn't want to stay long though. He didn't even say goodbye when he left. I made him breakfast in the morning too, but maybe he missed his family."
"Must have been insane. Who would pass up a gift like this?"
I blush at his complement. This child really is so sweet. Why he would be destined for the streets is a mystery to me.
"This is delicious." He smiles with his mouth full of broccoli.
---
"Finding anything you like?" I ask as I join Dom on the couch. I sit a couple feet away, as he's still pretty shy, though I've managed, through the course of our meal, to get to know him a little better.
"I don't really know any of these shows. I just put this on. It's quite funny."
"Top Gear? Yes, it's a great show. Not much info about cars, but perfect for laughs." My timing is perfect as Hammond opens his eyes wide, in the way that only he can, and makes a loud driving sound while pretending the air is a car. That man is priceless.
We sit through the episode and then the television's turned off.
"Tired?" I ask.
"Not yet, no."
I look at the clock on the wall. Eleven. I have work tomorrow, though it's not until later in the day. "What do you want to do then?"
"I don't know. I'm not used to having so many options. What do you want to do?"
There are many things I could chose from, but those grey eyes and his damp blonde hair are beconing me. "I want to make you happy."
"You've already done that. I don't think I could be in a better mood right now."
"Don't be so sure. Are you feeling better?"
"What do you mean? My ribs? They're bruised, but they don't hurt so bad."
I shuffle closer to him and lift the black shirt up. Dark blue patches line his chest, layering over older brown ones, and scars are scattered all along him.
He leans back, tugging the fabric out of my hands.
"No. I'm not going to hurt you." I lift it again. This poor child. He's felt nothing but pain his whole life. I trace a scar with my thumb, wondering as the goosebumps form, where it came from. I lean down and press a kiss to it.
He pulls back again. "What are you doing? I'm not five. You don't have to kiss me better."
"I'm just trying to help. I can make you forget about all the pain you're feeling. I can make you forget about everything bad that's ever happened to you. I can give you freedom and joy. Meaning and heaven. I can give you the biggest pleasure you've ever felt."
He looks at me, eyes locked to mine. I can't read his thoughts. This must be his first time. That's ok. I've taken the virginity of many guys. I've showed them how to really feel.
I put my arms over each side of him and lock my mouth onto his. He moans and leans back into the couch. Squirming beneath me, he pushes me to the floor.
"What are you doing!? Are you crazy? I'm a sixteen year old guy, not some 29 year old lady friend."
"I don't like women."
"Well I don't like men, so keep off."
"Have you even felt a man? Have you ever had one inside you? You can't know until you've experienced it."
I stand myself up again and repeat my previous actions. He still presses me away, but I fight against it. He doesn't know yet. He doesn't know what love feels like.
I undo his trousers and rub my palm against him. One hand has him pressed against my couch while the other makes its way into his pants. He's so hot. So soft.
I don't understand. Most people would have given in by now. Usually I have them crying silent tears of joy, as they let me touch them. But he's different, he keeps on fighting and shouting profanities. Can he not tell that I'm trying to help him? I'm trying to love him in a way he's never been loved before.
"Get off me!" He screams into my ear as he wriggles between my legs and onto the floor behind me. "You're a fucking nutcase! You pedophile! You sick, sick person!"
Why would he say such things? I've given him everything he could ever want. I've been so kind to him. More than kind. I thought he was happy with me, but this is just plain rude. I cover my ears and scream, but he keeps on shouting. I shove him gently, to shut him up, and he retaliates by punching me in the nose. I can hear the crunch of it breaking through the inside of me head and a stream of blood runs down my lip.
I give him a good hard push this time, and I didn't mean to hurt him. I swear. But he hurt me first, in the worst way anyone ever has, and I lost my temper.
He falls back against my coffee table. His head hits the corner, leaving a cracked dent in the glass. He rolls off and onto the floor. His eyes are half shut and his hands are limp.
"Dom!" I shout.
No. No, no, no.
"Dom, are you ok? Can you hear me? Dominic?" I assume that Dom was only a shortened version of the name.
There's no reaction, but he's a strong boy. I can tell. He'll pull through. He's just unconsious, he'll be up in a few minutes. He'll have a cuncusion and will call the coppers. But he'll be ok.
"Dom?" I lay next to him on the floor, snuggling up to his warm body. Just a few minutes. I close my eyes and wait.
---
I awake with a start. My back hurts and I'm cold all over. I turn around expecting to find that Dom had woken up and fled. Who would blame him? I shoved him into my table. I'm just as bad as everyone else he's ever met.
But all I wanted was for him to be happy. I wanted to fix his broken soul.
He's still here though. He's still here, on the floor, one arm to his side and the other awkwardly sprawled across his stomach. He looks so peaceful.
And I cry. I cry at what I've done.
---
It's been four months. No one's even noticed. No one's posted signs of a missing child. No one's come to my door. No one has even mentioned him. No one loved him.
But I did. I gave him a nice funeral. He's in the park near my house. They were putting in new gardens, so no one noticed when I dug up the fresh dirt. He's now covered in beautiful purple flowers and has a cherry blossom tree not even ten feet away. The grass is green and the sun is bright in the summer sky.
I think he likes it here. It's peaceful and bright. The birds chirping and children laughing will keep him at rest.
I visit him on weekends, when I'm not working. Sitting on a bench near to him, I tell him my promise every time.
'I'm going to make more people happy. For the rest of my life. I will make sure they die happy, though not by my hands. Never again. I failled with you, but I've learned. I'm going to do it proper. I'm doing it all for you.'
And today, sitting on the brown bench, I scope the park. There's a boy, younger than Dom was, dressed it ratty clothes and sifting through some rubish near the toilets.
"Hi." I smile as I make my way towards him. "I couldn't help but notice you collecting bottles from the trash. You look a little young to be collecting money in such a terrible way."
"A kid's gotta live somehow." He answers in a thick Irish accent.
"Look, how about you come to mine? I've got a nice room with your name on it...
Beta: me
Rating: NC17
Summary: Matthew finds a beaten street kid and plans to save him from the world, but his idea of helping isn't quite what the boy had been expecting.
Pairing: BellDom
Feedback: Loved and cherished.
Warnings: Language, attempted rape and accidental murder.
Disclaimers: I do not own Matthew Bellamy or Dominic Howard. This is fiction.
Notes: Huzzah! As of right now, for the past twenty or so minutes, I AM DONE HIGH SCHOOL! YEAH!
It's half to six and I have a couple hours till sundown. My feet are aching from a long day outside and my main goal, for the time being, is to get home. Tonight would be a great night for a bath, with lots of bubbles and a small yellow duck. Maybe a good movie will be on. Nah, who am I kidding? It's Tuesday. Nothing good ever happens on a Tuesday.
I kick a large pebble a few meters in front of me and onto the street. With a sigh, I shove my cold fingers into my pockets. April's usually warmer than this. Isn't it? Or maybe that's the hope. April's always cold and wet. At least I'm dry.
The streetlights have turned themselves on, though they aren't quite needed. It's not like there's anyone else out here. It seems to just be me, and a raccoon looting some forgotten backpack in someone's front yard.
I check my watch. Nearly seven. I'm hungry.
I'm only a couple blocks from my house when I'm met with a young group of boys. Maybe sixteen or seventeen years old. They're all in a crowd by a fence, making a lot of noise.
"You fucker!" One shouts. "Where's my money?"
"I- I don't have it," another voice says in a whimper.
The boys start kicking, presumably the poor bloke who owes them a few quid. The young man begs, pleads for them to stop. He wails in pain as their rough shoes meet with his weak ribs.
I can't take this. No one deserves this. "Oi!" I shout, pulling out my mobile. "I've half a mind to call the coppers!"
A dozen eyes turn my way before their owners bolt off in random directions. Only a small blonde boy remains, croutched in a bleeding ball on the ground. I run towards him. "Hey, you ok?"
He nods gently, thanking me in a whisper. He stands himself up, but the pain in his chest is too great and he falls against me for a moment.
"Do you want me to take you to the hospital?"
"No. Thanks."
"You sure?" Again, he nods. "Do you live far? I could grab my car and take you home."
His eyes grow wide and he backs away. "No! No, please."
"Oh. Ok." I hold up my hands. "I won't take you home then, but you can't stay here. Look, how about you come to mine yeah? I'll make you some tea. Sound good?"
"I'm fine, really." The teen replies.
"Where are you going to stay?" He doesn't respond. "Exactly. You're coming to mine."
"I don't know you."
"Matthew." I hold out my hand. "Matthew Bellamy."
"Dom." He smiles, ignoring my waiting hand.
"Pleasure to meet you Dom." I wrap an arm around his shoulder and lead him down the sidewalk. "I live a few minutes down the road. You can phone someone from there, or spend the night if you wish. I've got a guest room."
"Look Matthew, you're really kind, but I assure you that I'm fine."
"Don't be lying to me. Your shirt's torn and filthy, your lip is split and you're clutching your stomach. Don't tell me you're ok. I have a warm room, lots of food, a hot shower and a large screen telly. How does that sound for good?"
His grey eys soften and a slight smile splits out across his face. "Really? But why would you do that for me? I'm just a stupid fucked up cunt."
"Hey. Who says that?"
He doesn't answer with anything more than a shrug.
"You look like a very sweet kid. You look like someone who has been misread and treated poorly his whole life. I can see the pain in your eyes. I want to fix it. I want to make you right."
"Sorry to burst your bubble, but I seriously doubt any of my problems can be fixed in one night."
"Then stay a week. A month. Experience true happiness for at least that long. Can you do that for me?"
"Yeah, sure." He smiles. "I still don't know what I did to ever have someone as generous as you. Thank you so much."
It's no trouble to me, really. I do this all the time. There are many lost souls on the streets and I tend to stumble upon them. I often have a young boy staying with me. I show them what life is about. I show them happiness. I give them bliss.
Finally, as the skies are darkening, we arrive at my house. I lead Dom to my dark blue door and reach into my pocket to pull out my keys. I press the small, silver metal into my lock and twist, pushing my door open. I run my hand along the wall, blindly searching until it finds the switch and the lights turn on.
"Come in." I smile. Dom had stayed on the porch, even after I had taken off my jacket. "Make yourself at home." I point to the couch. "You could watch telly or, uh, the washroom's over there if you want to have a shower or something. You look about my size - I could get you some clean clothes to change into. Are you hungry?"
"Yeah."
"What would you like?" He shrugs. "A surprise. Cool. I'll be right back."
I run to my room and pull open some drawers. I find a black t-shirt, some jeans and boxers. I grab a towel from my closet and head back for the livingroom. "Here." I pass the pile of laundry to him. "Go wash up. I'll have supper ready when you're done."
He silently makes his way to the toilet as I head to the kitchen. I open some cupboards, but nothing seems very pleasing. The fridge offers more success as I pull out some broccoli, carrots and steak.
I boil the veggies and roast the meat. I can hear Dom humming in the washroom as he dries himself. He took a short shower. I pull a couple clean plates out and start serving the meat, and he walks in behind me. I turn to see him with his wet blonde hair. It's gone fluffy and some beads of water have clung to a couple strands. My clothes fit him tightly, showing off the shape of his muscles. His feet are bare, and longer than my own. Overall, he looks like an angel.
"Hi." I blink and rub my hands on my shirt. I've been staring.
"Smells good."
"Oh, great. I'm glad. I was hoping you weren't a vegetarian or something."
"Nope. I'm drooling at the smell. I haven't had food like this in ages."
"How old are you?"
"Sixteen, but my family couldn't afford much more than soup and crackers."
"Where's your family now?" I ask, finishing with serving the rest of the veggies.
He shrugs again. "Don't care. They didn't want me." He picks up a carrot and takes a bite. "How old are you?"
"Thirty three."
"Have you ever taken in other people before?"
"Yes, quite a number. A couple months ago I had a bloke about your age here for a couple days. Christopher was his name. His father's an alcoholic, and he needed a safe place to stay, so I took him in. He didn't want to stay long though. He didn't even say goodbye when he left. I made him breakfast in the morning too, but maybe he missed his family."
"Must have been insane. Who would pass up a gift like this?"
I blush at his complement. This child really is so sweet. Why he would be destined for the streets is a mystery to me.
"This is delicious." He smiles with his mouth full of broccoli.
---
"Finding anything you like?" I ask as I join Dom on the couch. I sit a couple feet away, as he's still pretty shy, though I've managed, through the course of our meal, to get to know him a little better.
"I don't really know any of these shows. I just put this on. It's quite funny."
"Top Gear? Yes, it's a great show. Not much info about cars, but perfect for laughs." My timing is perfect as Hammond opens his eyes wide, in the way that only he can, and makes a loud driving sound while pretending the air is a car. That man is priceless.
We sit through the episode and then the television's turned off.
"Tired?" I ask.
"Not yet, no."
I look at the clock on the wall. Eleven. I have work tomorrow, though it's not until later in the day. "What do you want to do then?"
"I don't know. I'm not used to having so many options. What do you want to do?"
There are many things I could chose from, but those grey eyes and his damp blonde hair are beconing me. "I want to make you happy."
"You've already done that. I don't think I could be in a better mood right now."
"Don't be so sure. Are you feeling better?"
"What do you mean? My ribs? They're bruised, but they don't hurt so bad."
I shuffle closer to him and lift the black shirt up. Dark blue patches line his chest, layering over older brown ones, and scars are scattered all along him.
He leans back, tugging the fabric out of my hands.
"No. I'm not going to hurt you." I lift it again. This poor child. He's felt nothing but pain his whole life. I trace a scar with my thumb, wondering as the goosebumps form, where it came from. I lean down and press a kiss to it.
He pulls back again. "What are you doing? I'm not five. You don't have to kiss me better."
"I'm just trying to help. I can make you forget about all the pain you're feeling. I can make you forget about everything bad that's ever happened to you. I can give you freedom and joy. Meaning and heaven. I can give you the biggest pleasure you've ever felt."
He looks at me, eyes locked to mine. I can't read his thoughts. This must be his first time. That's ok. I've taken the virginity of many guys. I've showed them how to really feel.
I put my arms over each side of him and lock my mouth onto his. He moans and leans back into the couch. Squirming beneath me, he pushes me to the floor.
"What are you doing!? Are you crazy? I'm a sixteen year old guy, not some 29 year old lady friend."
"I don't like women."
"Well I don't like men, so keep off."
"Have you even felt a man? Have you ever had one inside you? You can't know until you've experienced it."
I stand myself up again and repeat my previous actions. He still presses me away, but I fight against it. He doesn't know yet. He doesn't know what love feels like.
I undo his trousers and rub my palm against him. One hand has him pressed against my couch while the other makes its way into his pants. He's so hot. So soft.
I don't understand. Most people would have given in by now. Usually I have them crying silent tears of joy, as they let me touch them. But he's different, he keeps on fighting and shouting profanities. Can he not tell that I'm trying to help him? I'm trying to love him in a way he's never been loved before.
"Get off me!" He screams into my ear as he wriggles between my legs and onto the floor behind me. "You're a fucking nutcase! You pedophile! You sick, sick person!"
Why would he say such things? I've given him everything he could ever want. I've been so kind to him. More than kind. I thought he was happy with me, but this is just plain rude. I cover my ears and scream, but he keeps on shouting. I shove him gently, to shut him up, and he retaliates by punching me in the nose. I can hear the crunch of it breaking through the inside of me head and a stream of blood runs down my lip.
I give him a good hard push this time, and I didn't mean to hurt him. I swear. But he hurt me first, in the worst way anyone ever has, and I lost my temper.
He falls back against my coffee table. His head hits the corner, leaving a cracked dent in the glass. He rolls off and onto the floor. His eyes are half shut and his hands are limp.
"Dom!" I shout.
No. No, no, no.
"Dom, are you ok? Can you hear me? Dominic?" I assume that Dom was only a shortened version of the name.
There's no reaction, but he's a strong boy. I can tell. He'll pull through. He's just unconsious, he'll be up in a few minutes. He'll have a cuncusion and will call the coppers. But he'll be ok.
"Dom?" I lay next to him on the floor, snuggling up to his warm body. Just a few minutes. I close my eyes and wait.
---
I awake with a start. My back hurts and I'm cold all over. I turn around expecting to find that Dom had woken up and fled. Who would blame him? I shoved him into my table. I'm just as bad as everyone else he's ever met.
But all I wanted was for him to be happy. I wanted to fix his broken soul.
He's still here though. He's still here, on the floor, one arm to his side and the other awkwardly sprawled across his stomach. He looks so peaceful.
And I cry. I cry at what I've done.
---
It's been four months. No one's even noticed. No one's posted signs of a missing child. No one's come to my door. No one has even mentioned him. No one loved him.
But I did. I gave him a nice funeral. He's in the park near my house. They were putting in new gardens, so no one noticed when I dug up the fresh dirt. He's now covered in beautiful purple flowers and has a cherry blossom tree not even ten feet away. The grass is green and the sun is bright in the summer sky.
I think he likes it here. It's peaceful and bright. The birds chirping and children laughing will keep him at rest.
I visit him on weekends, when I'm not working. Sitting on a bench near to him, I tell him my promise every time.
'I'm going to make more people happy. For the rest of my life. I will make sure they die happy, though not by my hands. Never again. I failled with you, but I've learned. I'm going to do it proper. I'm doing it all for you.'
And today, sitting on the brown bench, I scope the park. There's a boy, younger than Dom was, dressed it ratty clothes and sifting through some rubish near the toilets.
"Hi." I smile as I make my way towards him. "I couldn't help but notice you collecting bottles from the trash. You look a little young to be collecting money in such a terrible way."
"A kid's gotta live somehow." He answers in a thick Irish accent.
"Look, how about you come to mine? I've got a nice room with your name on it...