Threadbare Gypsy Soul
Title: Threadbare Gypsy Soul (5/?)
Rating: NC-17 over all (PG-13 most chapters)
Pairing: Dom/Billy
Warnings: Sequel to BTS, AU, angst. In this universe, Dom is a NYC social worker. The nature of his work may be a touchy subject for some people.
Feedback: is loved.
Summary: It’s human nature to bury our secrets. The fear lies in digging them up.
Chapter Notes: You can clean, but the mess is still there.
Chapter 5
Wednesday, October 4th
“He punched a fucking hole in your wall!”
Dom pinched the bridge of his nose, annoyed at the headache forming there while the detail came around once again. It turned out that when Sean got the gist of the argument, that Billy had family he flat-out refused to get in touch with, he was significantly more concerned about the hole in the wall and Billy’s “ violent streak” than he was of Billy being somewhere out in the cold without a coat, or Billy leaving Dom, or how to fix the enormous mistake Dom had just made. Sean really was a stubborn fucker when he wanted to be.
It was quite late in the evening when they’d come to a pause in arguing about it themselves, back in the warmth of Dom’s living room. The stack of addresses sat in a neat pile on the desk, where Sean had placed them what seemed like hours ago.
“Yeah, Sean. I can see that, thanks,” Dom muttered wearily.
“And this doesn’t bother you at all, that he damaged your property, and he could do the same-“
“Enough, all right?” Dom bit the words off, looking away from his friend’s glower, which was saying exactly what Sean would say if he didn’t know any better.
Sean sighed, scrubbing his face and then his hair. “You can’t fix everyone Dom, you ought to know that by now.”
“I never wanted to fix him, Sean, will you listen? I just tried to show him a way to-“
He broke off abruptly. There was the sound of a curse out on the landing, and a telltale minute twist of the doorknob. Sean stood and yanked it open.
Billy’s arms were teetering with bags as Dom’s had been earlier, lips blue and teeth chattering, startled to find Sean there. “Erm. Hallo Sean,” he tried, placating.
“Sean, let him in, he lives here, man,” Dom barked, getting to his feet and shoving Sean aside. He was just glad Billy had come back at all. Whatever else he’d fucked up could be mended so long as Billy gave him half a chance.
Billy entered, keeping a cautious eye on Sean as he put his bags down behind the sofa. “I went out for a think, Dom, and…” he paused, glancing between them. He wrapped his arms around himself tightly and darted an eye at the kitchen clock. “I… shite, it’s that late? I brought you rice pudding from Darshan. I walked that far anyway, and… I went to the hardware store for… ah… plaster, and other things,” Billy continued, looking nervously at the bags on the floor. “I’ll fix it like new. I can fix-”
“I don’t think you should bother,” Sean spoke finally, holding his ground in front of Dom with his arms crossed. “Dom can have maintenance fix it. They’re particular about the quality of the work in this building.”
Billy’s brows knitted very briefly at unspoken insults. Sean was unstoppably loyal, sometimes to a fault, and now he was up in arms like a damned guard dog. He was the type that trusted people quite happily from the get-go until they gave him reason not to, and it was obvious that Billy had lost Sean’s good will.
On the other hand, Billy did not take to being insulted lightly. Already fire sparked in his eyes and his jaw set like tensile steel in Sean’s direction.
Dom put a careful hand on Sean’s shoulder, moving to put himself between him and Billy. The last thing he needed was for the two of them to rip each other apart. “Sean, it’s really late and… you missed putting the girls to bed. Chris will want you home, won’t she? You’ve got that sonogram thing in the morning.”
Sean didn’t look so sure, but after another moment’s glaring daggers in Billy’s direction, he nodded and stood down, face stony as he turned to gather his coat and keys. “You’ll want to do something about that hand, Bill,” he said lowly, closing the door behind himself.
Dom turned back only to see Billy tuck his left hand out of sight behind a thigh and drop his eyes as though innocently studying the carpet. He crossed the few steps to pull the hand into view. “Jesus, Billy.”
Billy’s hand was black and blue, the foremost knuckle cut deeply and the surrounding skin etched with dried blood. His middle finger was swollen almost twice the size it should have been, and it was hot, next to normal-sized fingers that were cold and white.
Billy pulled his hand away and knelt to gather up the bags again. “S’nothing. S’fine.”
Dom lay a hand on his shoulder. “It’s not fine, it’s all swollen and… Christ, you’re freezing. You need to go to hospital.”
“No.” Billy growled so roughly through his teeth as he rose that Dom flinched and backed off, surprised at the force of it. Mutely he watched as Billy took one paper bag to the kitchen, and moved the other two to the floor below the hole in the wall and began to unpack a plastic drop cloth, a tub of plaster, a trowel and several other tools, all the while trying not to let his body quake with shivers.
“Billy-“
“Sean wants the wall fixed properly, Dominic. I’ll show him I can fucking well do it better than your maintenance man.”
“He didn’t mean it like that.”
“Oh aye,” Billy’s accent went loose and thick. “How did he mean it, then, eh? He meant he doesn’t think I can do a good enough job for your fancy flat, just like he doesn’t think I’m good enough for you, right? Me and my bloody fucking temper- fuck!” he hissed abruptly as the injured hand banged hard against the tub of plaster in his haste to unpack.
Dom crossed to him in a flash, wanting to help, to stop him from looking the way he did. Knelt on the floor, Billy clutched the injured hand tight to his gut and did his level best to look unaffected, though his face was almost white with cold, bright red staining his cheeks and nose as his jaw clenched with the effort not to let the pain show. A little watery blood oozed from between his fingers. The cut knuckle had reopened with the impact and, left unattended for hours while Billy walked the filthy streets, an infection was already settling in.
“I don’t care about the wall, Bills,” Dom murmured, wanting to touch but afraid of the recoil.
The answer was strained, less anger and more wild attempt to quell the tremor in the words. “I can fix it.”
“I know you can,” Dom whispered, chancing a move closer, a touch to Billy’s trembling shoulder. He wanted this over, this strain between them gone. It was a complete fucking mess that he’d initiated, not Billy’s fault that Dom had to go digging in dark corners. “I won’t… I won’t bring it up again. I’ll throw that list out. I promise I won’t push anymore, just please, let me take care of you.”
Both of Billy’s hands came up and fisted Dom’s shirt. “I’m so… c-cold, Dommeh.” And finally, Dom was able to gather Billy up in his arms and hold him, shifting them both back to lean against the opposite wall in the short hallway.
He kept them there until Billy’s shivering began to ease as he leaned heavily against Dom’s shoulder, still holding the injury against his stomach. Both his and Dom’s shirt were stained where the wound brushed and sluggishly crusted over.
Above in his line of sight, the hole in the wall loomed dark and abnormal, a gaping wrong in a place where he’d come to feel strangely safe. It wasn’t a question of Billy repairing the wall. Dom trusted he could do a fine job of that. But repairing this mess he’d made was something else and Dom had no real idea where to start.
He turned his head to breathe the cold smell of Billy’s hair, press his nose in where the skin was beginning to warm. “Jesus Bills, you scared me,” he whispered.
Billy said nothing, only turning his head to hide his face against Dom’s chest, the warmth of his breath countering the cold tip of his nose through cloth.
They sat against the wall for a bit longer, Dom wondering at Billy’s silence. It would take some doing for Billy to repair the rift with Sean too. He wanted them to get along. He wanted Billy to be part of the family Dom felt he was part of. He wanted Billy to know how much he needed him, how much he appreciated the way he gave Dom something to come home to at the end of the day.
He wanted to erase this whole damned mess, starting with Billy’s still bleeding hand. “Billy. Bills. Up you get, and let’s find your coat.”
“Why?”
“It’s cold outside,” Dom said as he hauled them both up. Billy followed blankly after him while he dug out a clean hand towel to staunch the wound and then went to the coat closet.
But when he realized Dom’s intentions, Billy halted stubbornly. “I’m not going to the hospital.”
“Stop arguing with me, Bills,” Dom grumbled as he pulled both of their heavy coats from the coat closet. Silly arguments were always getting blown way out of proportion. It might have been amusing under different circumstances.
Billy was not amused though. “I don’t want your charity, Dominic. You can’t afford to pay a hospital bill and you’ve spent more than enough of your money on me as it is. I’ve had worse than this, anyway.” He looked down at his wound, gingerly touching the loose flap of skin that should close the gash on his knuckle. “Fucking new construction,” he muttered, “Metal supports instead of wood. Must have hit it on the way in.”
Dom sighed, came back to him and wordlessly stroked a thumb over the scar on Billy’s chin, something leftover from a time long past. Someone had taken care of Billy back then too. “They save trees that way,” he told him softly, cupping Billy’s face in both hands, though Billy refused to meet his gaze. “Hey. You’re not my charity case. You’re not my homework. I want you happy here. Happy with me. And I’m going to fuck up a lot, because I worry, Billy. I worry if you’re upset and you don’t let me in.”
Billy hesitated in his answer, a most peculiar look on his face as he raised his eyes only to Dom’s throat and then down again. “I’ve got a lot of secrets, Dom.”
Dom closed his eyes briefly and nodded. Billy had a lot of secrets. Some he may not ever share, with him or anyone else. “Now let me get your coat on so we can go.”
“Your pudding-“ Billy tried as Dom carefully navigated the injured hand through the pea coat’s sleeve and buttoned it snugly.
“It can wait, until I’m sure your hand still works.”
Billy’s shifted from foot to foot as Dom carefully wrapped the towel around Billy’s hand before grabbing his keys from the desk.
“I really don’t like hospitals, Dom,” Billy tried plaintively.
Dom nodded at this final feeble attempt at protest. Billy had good reason not to like hospitals. People went in there and didn’t come back out. “I’ll be with you all the time. Well, as much as they’ll let me.”
Billy sighed at his hand, held before him in a green and white towel. “Brick wall.”
He remained silent the entire taxi ride to the hospital, and said very little in the hospital waiting room while they filled out paperwork. It was late, and the waiting room held roughly twenty people ahead of them.
Dom stepped out the doors to get a signal on his phone so he could leave a message on Cate’s voicemail. They’d be here into the morning, and he wasn’t about to leave Billy and go to work until he was certain things between them were at least patched. From the waiting room, Billy looked glass-eyed at the floor. Dom tried to press his hand against the door as though it would provide a connection between them, but the sliding door only sliced right through.
Thursday, October 5th
It must have been hours later when Dom startled from his doze as Billy’s name was called. Billy was slumped heavily against his shoulder, still wrapped in his woolen pea coat, though now his hair was sweaty, his skin clammy and lined in the too-bright hospital florescence.
They were led to a gurney in a three-bed exam room by a nurse, and waited a further twenty minutes while doctors and nurses crossed the halls. There were few times Dom came to this hospital feeling useless. He could not help but wish that his credentials flashed around could get them out of this sooner. Billy said nothing, though he looked grey and drawn and terrible, and all of it was Dom’s fault.
“William Boyd?” a woman came in, looking over a chart. “Dr. Vaswani. And how are you this morning?”
Billy had the grace to raise his right hand for her to shake. “Been better.”
“So, you’ve cut your hand. And you’ve got a fever,” she paused, looking him over and nodding to the nurse, who stuck an electric thermometer in his ear. “How long ago did this happen?”
Billy did not answer, or perhaps did not know exactly how long he’d been gone, and Dom answered quietly from his chair. “Around seven, last night. And he was outside for almost five hours afterwards, without a coat.”
Dr. Vaswani arched a brow at this while she read the thermometer read-out. “Well, that wasn’t helpful, at any rate.”
“I wasn’t outside the whole time,” Billy muttered.
She unwrapped the towel from his hand, and held both hands out to compare the swelling, asking him to flex each digit in turn. The middle one could bend, but only slightly.
“Well, there doesn’t appear to be any tendon damage. We’ll put a few stitches in just to hold it closed, but it’ll need to stay partially open to drain. You’ll need to keep it very clean. Knuckle wounds are very susceptible to infection. Does it tingle when you move it?”
Billy wriggled the finger slightly. “Yes.”
“There may be some nerve damage, which is slow to heel. You may lose sensation at the fingertip anywhere from a few months to a year.”
Billy looked startled at this, staring down at his swollen hand.
“So, just a few questions. How did this happen?”
“I…” Billy straightened a little. “I punched through a wall.”
“Were there any rusty nails or metal?”
“The supports are metal,” Dom put in.
“Save trees that way,” Billy murmured to his knees.
Dom’s heart lurched at the attempt at lightness, but it didn’t take away the worry. “It’s a pretty new remodel, I don’t think anything was rusted,” he told her.
“Have you had a tetanus shot in the last ten years?” she asked.
Billy mopped his face with his good hand. “I… don’t remember.”
“We’d better do one. I’ll have one of the residents in to stitch that hand.” She turned to Dom, “Sir, if you don’t mind waiting…”
“Oh! I…okay, I’ll just…?” Dom stood, looking at Billy to assure him, to be assured, but Billy would not look up. Dom swallowed and left.
A half-hour ticked slowly in the waiting room, a bad sitcom buzzing on the TV mounted in the corner. Dom’s mind was blank and tired of going over the events that ran like a movie in his head. He would go home and trash the list, and never speak of it again as long as they could work this out, as long as this wasn’t the end. Billy had come all the way here and in only a few weeks Dom had worn him to the nub already, just like he had known he would all along.
“Mister…?” Dr. Vaswani found him with his arms curled around knees held tight to his chest, before he jumped up.
“Monaghan. Dom. Is Billy ready?”
“Almost. So Mr. Boyd says he has no insurance, or employment…”
“I’ll be paying for it all,” Dom said immediately. “He’s my partner.”
She nodded, folding her arms as she regarded the blood stains on his otherwise pristine shirt. He still wore his work slacks and shoes. He flushed, his hand automatically tugging at his ear. “We… we had a fight, but it wasn’t like that, it wasn’t…”
“Mr. Monaghan…”
“I mean, I’m a social worker, it’s…”
“Mr. Monaghan,” She smiled gently, “You’re not obligated to explain anything, you know. Incidentally, I remember you now.”
Dom blinked. It was four o’clock in the morning and he hadn’t had a round meal all day but for a bagel at lunch, he simply wasn’t in much of a state to follow logic at the moment.
“The Casiano girl, Shiloh. That was yours, yes?”
Dom hesitated and nodded.
“Well, I don’t expect you’d remember, but she was mine for a time that night too, so I can sympathize.”
Dom swallowed twice at the tickle in his throat. Billy had helped him through that. Billy had pushed him through it, fuck, Billy was the only reason Dom could still get out of bed in the morning. “Is he going to be okay?”
She smiled, turning to walk back to the room with Dom in tow, “Yes. He needs to be kept warm, and he needs to sleep. And later he’ll need to be sure to keep that hand clean and not move it much until the stitches come out, which I’m thinking can be… ten days. And I’ll need him to be sure to finish a round of antibiotics.” She motioned him into the room before her, where Billy’s hand was being wrapped in gauze. “I’ll order a few doses of a pain-killer for the next day or two. Other than that, you’re good to go.“
She and the resident left the room. The other two beds were now empty, as their occupants had been moved or discharged. Dom took a hesitant step forward.
“Did it hurt?” he murmured, fiddling with the buttons on Billy’s coat in his hands. “The stitches?”
Billy shrugged one shoulder, looking at the floor. “Fucking tetanus shot hurt worse. But they did it in the left one, so at least one arm works.”
“Good, I won’t have to wipe your arse for you,” Dom joked, but it hung heavy in the air.
“Said we have to buy a bunch of shite too, gauze, and swabs and Beta… Beta-something.” Billy muttered, “I’ll get it myself at a chemist. It’s too expensive to buy here.
Dom started, “I don’t m-“
“I wish you’d stop saying that,” Billy cut across him sharply. “I don’t mind. I do mind, Dom. And I’ll pay you back for this.”
Dom twisted the coat in his hands, nervously. Christ, he went to work everyday and Billy felt bloody useless. Dom had consistently kept Billy home and jobless instead of letting him taking the odd, migratory sort of jobs he’d shown interest in, insisted that Billy apply for work visas and get a “real” job that “suited” him, and the whole time he was caging Billy in, forcing him to adhere to a standard. Dom didn’t care if Billy paid him back. He just wanted this mess fixed.
“There’s no chemist open now, Billy. I’ll just get it with everything else here, I don’t m-“ Dom bit his tongue at the sharp look that earned him. “You’ll need to have it in the morning anyhow.”
Billy looked at him with disdain, his sunken eyes angry, but too tired to do anything about it. He still shivered a little, and Dom stood to drape his jacket over his shoulders.
“Let’s just go home and deal with it tomorrow.”
The sky was already grey in the east as Dom paid the cabbie and followed Billy up the stairs, unlocking the flat and locking it again behind them. Billy let Dom pull his coat off and stumbled to the bathroom, closing the door. Dom busied himself hanging their coats, pulling out the medications and reading the dosages. Armed with the antibiotic and the industrial strength Tylenol and a water, he entered the bedroom, finding Billy halfway to undressed and doing fine on his own. He waited until Billy crawled into his half of the bed and gave him the pills, which he took with the full glass of water. Dom pulled an extra blanket out of the wardrobe and spread it over top of the comforter, pulling the bedroom curtains closed to block out the oncoming light of day.
Out in the hall, the hole in the wall loomed. The floor was littered with the trowels and other things Billy had brought home, and in the kitchen the takeaway box of rice pudding, all bought with his own small amount of saved cash that he’d brought with him and changed to American currency. That was what tightened Dom’s throat more than the hole in the wall itself.
Dom cleaned the kitchen methodically. He scrubbed hard at the burnt sugar in his best saucepan before simply leaving it to soak, tossing limp and brown pieces of pear, the remains of what would have been Viggo’s chutney in the bin, along with two partially-baked Cornish hens. Tying the liner, he ducked quickly out of the flat and down the hall to push it through the trash chute. He wiped the counter tops, the sink, and emptied the dishwasher.
Morning was full now, illuminating the living room with cold light. Billy’s guitar still sat out on the sofa and his books covered the cushions. Dom carefully tucked it back in its hardback case, and gathered the books back onto the shelves. There was little left to clean without making too much noise.
Giving in to the pull, Dom padded softly to the bedroom and gazed at where Billy slept. He was curled towards the window beneath the blankets at the edge of the mattress, far away from Dom’s empty side.
He knelt, watching Billy’s breath rise and fall. His right hand, unbruised and free of stitches, lay outside of the blanket. He stroked over the knuckles and tendons with a light touch. Billy had once told him that he used to whisper things to him while he slept, things he couldn’t say when they were awake.
Dom sighed and pressed his forehead to the edge of the mattress and the warmth of Billy’s arm, and muttered, “I don’t suppose it makes any difference now, but I’m sorry. For the list and for… making you come here... not being what you thought you wanted. Everything. But…” Dom couldn’t help himself, hating his own selfishness. “…but please, forgive me and stay.”
He turned back out to the living room, where the light from the windows fell onto the stack of papers on the desk, unassuming and harmless as the tin box beside them. He grabbed the pile and stalked out of the apartment once again, wadding and shredding them as he pushed them all down the trash chute. Then he locked the door behind himself one final time, curled up in the chilly corner of the sofa, and fell asleep.
CHAPTER SIX
Rating: NC-17 over all (PG-13 most chapters)
Pairing: Dom/Billy
Warnings: Sequel to BTS, AU, angst. In this universe, Dom is a NYC social worker. The nature of his work may be a touchy subject for some people.
Feedback: is loved.
Summary: It’s human nature to bury our secrets. The fear lies in digging them up.
Chapter Notes: You can clean, but the mess is still there.
Chapter 5
Wednesday, October 4th
“He punched a fucking hole in your wall!”
Dom pinched the bridge of his nose, annoyed at the headache forming there while the detail came around once again. It turned out that when Sean got the gist of the argument, that Billy had family he flat-out refused to get in touch with, he was significantly more concerned about the hole in the wall and Billy’s “ violent streak” than he was of Billy being somewhere out in the cold without a coat, or Billy leaving Dom, or how to fix the enormous mistake Dom had just made. Sean really was a stubborn fucker when he wanted to be.
It was quite late in the evening when they’d come to a pause in arguing about it themselves, back in the warmth of Dom’s living room. The stack of addresses sat in a neat pile on the desk, where Sean had placed them what seemed like hours ago.
“Yeah, Sean. I can see that, thanks,” Dom muttered wearily.
“And this doesn’t bother you at all, that he damaged your property, and he could do the same-“
“Enough, all right?” Dom bit the words off, looking away from his friend’s glower, which was saying exactly what Sean would say if he didn’t know any better.
Sean sighed, scrubbing his face and then his hair. “You can’t fix everyone Dom, you ought to know that by now.”
“I never wanted to fix him, Sean, will you listen? I just tried to show him a way to-“
He broke off abruptly. There was the sound of a curse out on the landing, and a telltale minute twist of the doorknob. Sean stood and yanked it open.
Billy’s arms were teetering with bags as Dom’s had been earlier, lips blue and teeth chattering, startled to find Sean there. “Erm. Hallo Sean,” he tried, placating.
“Sean, let him in, he lives here, man,” Dom barked, getting to his feet and shoving Sean aside. He was just glad Billy had come back at all. Whatever else he’d fucked up could be mended so long as Billy gave him half a chance.
Billy entered, keeping a cautious eye on Sean as he put his bags down behind the sofa. “I went out for a think, Dom, and…” he paused, glancing between them. He wrapped his arms around himself tightly and darted an eye at the kitchen clock. “I… shite, it’s that late? I brought you rice pudding from Darshan. I walked that far anyway, and… I went to the hardware store for… ah… plaster, and other things,” Billy continued, looking nervously at the bags on the floor. “I’ll fix it like new. I can fix-”
“I don’t think you should bother,” Sean spoke finally, holding his ground in front of Dom with his arms crossed. “Dom can have maintenance fix it. They’re particular about the quality of the work in this building.”
Billy’s brows knitted very briefly at unspoken insults. Sean was unstoppably loyal, sometimes to a fault, and now he was up in arms like a damned guard dog. He was the type that trusted people quite happily from the get-go until they gave him reason not to, and it was obvious that Billy had lost Sean’s good will.
On the other hand, Billy did not take to being insulted lightly. Already fire sparked in his eyes and his jaw set like tensile steel in Sean’s direction.
Dom put a careful hand on Sean’s shoulder, moving to put himself between him and Billy. The last thing he needed was for the two of them to rip each other apart. “Sean, it’s really late and… you missed putting the girls to bed. Chris will want you home, won’t she? You’ve got that sonogram thing in the morning.”
Sean didn’t look so sure, but after another moment’s glaring daggers in Billy’s direction, he nodded and stood down, face stony as he turned to gather his coat and keys. “You’ll want to do something about that hand, Bill,” he said lowly, closing the door behind himself.
Dom turned back only to see Billy tuck his left hand out of sight behind a thigh and drop his eyes as though innocently studying the carpet. He crossed the few steps to pull the hand into view. “Jesus, Billy.”
Billy’s hand was black and blue, the foremost knuckle cut deeply and the surrounding skin etched with dried blood. His middle finger was swollen almost twice the size it should have been, and it was hot, next to normal-sized fingers that were cold and white.
Billy pulled his hand away and knelt to gather up the bags again. “S’nothing. S’fine.”
Dom lay a hand on his shoulder. “It’s not fine, it’s all swollen and… Christ, you’re freezing. You need to go to hospital.”
“No.” Billy growled so roughly through his teeth as he rose that Dom flinched and backed off, surprised at the force of it. Mutely he watched as Billy took one paper bag to the kitchen, and moved the other two to the floor below the hole in the wall and began to unpack a plastic drop cloth, a tub of plaster, a trowel and several other tools, all the while trying not to let his body quake with shivers.
“Billy-“
“Sean wants the wall fixed properly, Dominic. I’ll show him I can fucking well do it better than your maintenance man.”
“He didn’t mean it like that.”
“Oh aye,” Billy’s accent went loose and thick. “How did he mean it, then, eh? He meant he doesn’t think I can do a good enough job for your fancy flat, just like he doesn’t think I’m good enough for you, right? Me and my bloody fucking temper- fuck!” he hissed abruptly as the injured hand banged hard against the tub of plaster in his haste to unpack.
Dom crossed to him in a flash, wanting to help, to stop him from looking the way he did. Knelt on the floor, Billy clutched the injured hand tight to his gut and did his level best to look unaffected, though his face was almost white with cold, bright red staining his cheeks and nose as his jaw clenched with the effort not to let the pain show. A little watery blood oozed from between his fingers. The cut knuckle had reopened with the impact and, left unattended for hours while Billy walked the filthy streets, an infection was already settling in.
“I don’t care about the wall, Bills,” Dom murmured, wanting to touch but afraid of the recoil.
The answer was strained, less anger and more wild attempt to quell the tremor in the words. “I can fix it.”
“I know you can,” Dom whispered, chancing a move closer, a touch to Billy’s trembling shoulder. He wanted this over, this strain between them gone. It was a complete fucking mess that he’d initiated, not Billy’s fault that Dom had to go digging in dark corners. “I won’t… I won’t bring it up again. I’ll throw that list out. I promise I won’t push anymore, just please, let me take care of you.”
Both of Billy’s hands came up and fisted Dom’s shirt. “I’m so… c-cold, Dommeh.” And finally, Dom was able to gather Billy up in his arms and hold him, shifting them both back to lean against the opposite wall in the short hallway.
He kept them there until Billy’s shivering began to ease as he leaned heavily against Dom’s shoulder, still holding the injury against his stomach. Both his and Dom’s shirt were stained where the wound brushed and sluggishly crusted over.
Above in his line of sight, the hole in the wall loomed dark and abnormal, a gaping wrong in a place where he’d come to feel strangely safe. It wasn’t a question of Billy repairing the wall. Dom trusted he could do a fine job of that. But repairing this mess he’d made was something else and Dom had no real idea where to start.
He turned his head to breathe the cold smell of Billy’s hair, press his nose in where the skin was beginning to warm. “Jesus Bills, you scared me,” he whispered.
Billy said nothing, only turning his head to hide his face against Dom’s chest, the warmth of his breath countering the cold tip of his nose through cloth.
They sat against the wall for a bit longer, Dom wondering at Billy’s silence. It would take some doing for Billy to repair the rift with Sean too. He wanted them to get along. He wanted Billy to be part of the family Dom felt he was part of. He wanted Billy to know how much he needed him, how much he appreciated the way he gave Dom something to come home to at the end of the day.
He wanted to erase this whole damned mess, starting with Billy’s still bleeding hand. “Billy. Bills. Up you get, and let’s find your coat.”
“Why?”
“It’s cold outside,” Dom said as he hauled them both up. Billy followed blankly after him while he dug out a clean hand towel to staunch the wound and then went to the coat closet.
But when he realized Dom’s intentions, Billy halted stubbornly. “I’m not going to the hospital.”
“Stop arguing with me, Bills,” Dom grumbled as he pulled both of their heavy coats from the coat closet. Silly arguments were always getting blown way out of proportion. It might have been amusing under different circumstances.
Billy was not amused though. “I don’t want your charity, Dominic. You can’t afford to pay a hospital bill and you’ve spent more than enough of your money on me as it is. I’ve had worse than this, anyway.” He looked down at his wound, gingerly touching the loose flap of skin that should close the gash on his knuckle. “Fucking new construction,” he muttered, “Metal supports instead of wood. Must have hit it on the way in.”
Dom sighed, came back to him and wordlessly stroked a thumb over the scar on Billy’s chin, something leftover from a time long past. Someone had taken care of Billy back then too. “They save trees that way,” he told him softly, cupping Billy’s face in both hands, though Billy refused to meet his gaze. “Hey. You’re not my charity case. You’re not my homework. I want you happy here. Happy with me. And I’m going to fuck up a lot, because I worry, Billy. I worry if you’re upset and you don’t let me in.”
Billy hesitated in his answer, a most peculiar look on his face as he raised his eyes only to Dom’s throat and then down again. “I’ve got a lot of secrets, Dom.”
Dom closed his eyes briefly and nodded. Billy had a lot of secrets. Some he may not ever share, with him or anyone else. “Now let me get your coat on so we can go.”
“Your pudding-“ Billy tried as Dom carefully navigated the injured hand through the pea coat’s sleeve and buttoned it snugly.
“It can wait, until I’m sure your hand still works.”
Billy’s shifted from foot to foot as Dom carefully wrapped the towel around Billy’s hand before grabbing his keys from the desk.
“I really don’t like hospitals, Dom,” Billy tried plaintively.
Dom nodded at this final feeble attempt at protest. Billy had good reason not to like hospitals. People went in there and didn’t come back out. “I’ll be with you all the time. Well, as much as they’ll let me.”
Billy sighed at his hand, held before him in a green and white towel. “Brick wall.”
He remained silent the entire taxi ride to the hospital, and said very little in the hospital waiting room while they filled out paperwork. It was late, and the waiting room held roughly twenty people ahead of them.
Dom stepped out the doors to get a signal on his phone so he could leave a message on Cate’s voicemail. They’d be here into the morning, and he wasn’t about to leave Billy and go to work until he was certain things between them were at least patched. From the waiting room, Billy looked glass-eyed at the floor. Dom tried to press his hand against the door as though it would provide a connection between them, but the sliding door only sliced right through.
Thursday, October 5th
It must have been hours later when Dom startled from his doze as Billy’s name was called. Billy was slumped heavily against his shoulder, still wrapped in his woolen pea coat, though now his hair was sweaty, his skin clammy and lined in the too-bright hospital florescence.
They were led to a gurney in a three-bed exam room by a nurse, and waited a further twenty minutes while doctors and nurses crossed the halls. There were few times Dom came to this hospital feeling useless. He could not help but wish that his credentials flashed around could get them out of this sooner. Billy said nothing, though he looked grey and drawn and terrible, and all of it was Dom’s fault.
“William Boyd?” a woman came in, looking over a chart. “Dr. Vaswani. And how are you this morning?”
Billy had the grace to raise his right hand for her to shake. “Been better.”
“So, you’ve cut your hand. And you’ve got a fever,” she paused, looking him over and nodding to the nurse, who stuck an electric thermometer in his ear. “How long ago did this happen?”
Billy did not answer, or perhaps did not know exactly how long he’d been gone, and Dom answered quietly from his chair. “Around seven, last night. And he was outside for almost five hours afterwards, without a coat.”
Dr. Vaswani arched a brow at this while she read the thermometer read-out. “Well, that wasn’t helpful, at any rate.”
“I wasn’t outside the whole time,” Billy muttered.
She unwrapped the towel from his hand, and held both hands out to compare the swelling, asking him to flex each digit in turn. The middle one could bend, but only slightly.
“Well, there doesn’t appear to be any tendon damage. We’ll put a few stitches in just to hold it closed, but it’ll need to stay partially open to drain. You’ll need to keep it very clean. Knuckle wounds are very susceptible to infection. Does it tingle when you move it?”
Billy wriggled the finger slightly. “Yes.”
“There may be some nerve damage, which is slow to heel. You may lose sensation at the fingertip anywhere from a few months to a year.”
Billy looked startled at this, staring down at his swollen hand.
“So, just a few questions. How did this happen?”
“I…” Billy straightened a little. “I punched through a wall.”
“Were there any rusty nails or metal?”
“The supports are metal,” Dom put in.
“Save trees that way,” Billy murmured to his knees.
Dom’s heart lurched at the attempt at lightness, but it didn’t take away the worry. “It’s a pretty new remodel, I don’t think anything was rusted,” he told her.
“Have you had a tetanus shot in the last ten years?” she asked.
Billy mopped his face with his good hand. “I… don’t remember.”
“We’d better do one. I’ll have one of the residents in to stitch that hand.” She turned to Dom, “Sir, if you don’t mind waiting…”
“Oh! I…okay, I’ll just…?” Dom stood, looking at Billy to assure him, to be assured, but Billy would not look up. Dom swallowed and left.
A half-hour ticked slowly in the waiting room, a bad sitcom buzzing on the TV mounted in the corner. Dom’s mind was blank and tired of going over the events that ran like a movie in his head. He would go home and trash the list, and never speak of it again as long as they could work this out, as long as this wasn’t the end. Billy had come all the way here and in only a few weeks Dom had worn him to the nub already, just like he had known he would all along.
“Mister…?” Dr. Vaswani found him with his arms curled around knees held tight to his chest, before he jumped up.
“Monaghan. Dom. Is Billy ready?”
“Almost. So Mr. Boyd says he has no insurance, or employment…”
“I’ll be paying for it all,” Dom said immediately. “He’s my partner.”
She nodded, folding her arms as she regarded the blood stains on his otherwise pristine shirt. He still wore his work slacks and shoes. He flushed, his hand automatically tugging at his ear. “We… we had a fight, but it wasn’t like that, it wasn’t…”
“Mr. Monaghan…”
“I mean, I’m a social worker, it’s…”
“Mr. Monaghan,” She smiled gently, “You’re not obligated to explain anything, you know. Incidentally, I remember you now.”
Dom blinked. It was four o’clock in the morning and he hadn’t had a round meal all day but for a bagel at lunch, he simply wasn’t in much of a state to follow logic at the moment.
“The Casiano girl, Shiloh. That was yours, yes?”
Dom hesitated and nodded.
“Well, I don’t expect you’d remember, but she was mine for a time that night too, so I can sympathize.”
Dom swallowed twice at the tickle in his throat. Billy had helped him through that. Billy had pushed him through it, fuck, Billy was the only reason Dom could still get out of bed in the morning. “Is he going to be okay?”
She smiled, turning to walk back to the room with Dom in tow, “Yes. He needs to be kept warm, and he needs to sleep. And later he’ll need to be sure to keep that hand clean and not move it much until the stitches come out, which I’m thinking can be… ten days. And I’ll need him to be sure to finish a round of antibiotics.” She motioned him into the room before her, where Billy’s hand was being wrapped in gauze. “I’ll order a few doses of a pain-killer for the next day or two. Other than that, you’re good to go.“
She and the resident left the room. The other two beds were now empty, as their occupants had been moved or discharged. Dom took a hesitant step forward.
“Did it hurt?” he murmured, fiddling with the buttons on Billy’s coat in his hands. “The stitches?”
Billy shrugged one shoulder, looking at the floor. “Fucking tetanus shot hurt worse. But they did it in the left one, so at least one arm works.”
“Good, I won’t have to wipe your arse for you,” Dom joked, but it hung heavy in the air.
“Said we have to buy a bunch of shite too, gauze, and swabs and Beta… Beta-something.” Billy muttered, “I’ll get it myself at a chemist. It’s too expensive to buy here.
Dom started, “I don’t m-“
“I wish you’d stop saying that,” Billy cut across him sharply. “I don’t mind. I do mind, Dom. And I’ll pay you back for this.”
Dom twisted the coat in his hands, nervously. Christ, he went to work everyday and Billy felt bloody useless. Dom had consistently kept Billy home and jobless instead of letting him taking the odd, migratory sort of jobs he’d shown interest in, insisted that Billy apply for work visas and get a “real” job that “suited” him, and the whole time he was caging Billy in, forcing him to adhere to a standard. Dom didn’t care if Billy paid him back. He just wanted this mess fixed.
“There’s no chemist open now, Billy. I’ll just get it with everything else here, I don’t m-“ Dom bit his tongue at the sharp look that earned him. “You’ll need to have it in the morning anyhow.”
Billy looked at him with disdain, his sunken eyes angry, but too tired to do anything about it. He still shivered a little, and Dom stood to drape his jacket over his shoulders.
“Let’s just go home and deal with it tomorrow.”
The sky was already grey in the east as Dom paid the cabbie and followed Billy up the stairs, unlocking the flat and locking it again behind them. Billy let Dom pull his coat off and stumbled to the bathroom, closing the door. Dom busied himself hanging their coats, pulling out the medications and reading the dosages. Armed with the antibiotic and the industrial strength Tylenol and a water, he entered the bedroom, finding Billy halfway to undressed and doing fine on his own. He waited until Billy crawled into his half of the bed and gave him the pills, which he took with the full glass of water. Dom pulled an extra blanket out of the wardrobe and spread it over top of the comforter, pulling the bedroom curtains closed to block out the oncoming light of day.
Out in the hall, the hole in the wall loomed. The floor was littered with the trowels and other things Billy had brought home, and in the kitchen the takeaway box of rice pudding, all bought with his own small amount of saved cash that he’d brought with him and changed to American currency. That was what tightened Dom’s throat more than the hole in the wall itself.
Dom cleaned the kitchen methodically. He scrubbed hard at the burnt sugar in his best saucepan before simply leaving it to soak, tossing limp and brown pieces of pear, the remains of what would have been Viggo’s chutney in the bin, along with two partially-baked Cornish hens. Tying the liner, he ducked quickly out of the flat and down the hall to push it through the trash chute. He wiped the counter tops, the sink, and emptied the dishwasher.
Morning was full now, illuminating the living room with cold light. Billy’s guitar still sat out on the sofa and his books covered the cushions. Dom carefully tucked it back in its hardback case, and gathered the books back onto the shelves. There was little left to clean without making too much noise.
Giving in to the pull, Dom padded softly to the bedroom and gazed at where Billy slept. He was curled towards the window beneath the blankets at the edge of the mattress, far away from Dom’s empty side.
He knelt, watching Billy’s breath rise and fall. His right hand, unbruised and free of stitches, lay outside of the blanket. He stroked over the knuckles and tendons with a light touch. Billy had once told him that he used to whisper things to him while he slept, things he couldn’t say when they were awake.
Dom sighed and pressed his forehead to the edge of the mattress and the warmth of Billy’s arm, and muttered, “I don’t suppose it makes any difference now, but I’m sorry. For the list and for… making you come here... not being what you thought you wanted. Everything. But…” Dom couldn’t help himself, hating his own selfishness. “…but please, forgive me and stay.”
He turned back out to the living room, where the light from the windows fell onto the stack of papers on the desk, unassuming and harmless as the tin box beside them. He grabbed the pile and stalked out of the apartment once again, wadding and shredding them as he pushed them all down the trash chute. Then he locked the door behind himself one final time, curled up in the chilly corner of the sofa, and fell asleep.
CHAPTER SIX