LOTRips - Drowning
Feb. 21st, 2004 10:43 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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sparcck wrote this lovely Dom-centric piece called Either/Or, which made me remember some things about some other things, and well, yeah. Ever heard of a Quarter-Century Crisis? They happen.LOTRips
DM/BB; DM/EW; DM/Other
Dom’s lifeboat is sinking before his eyes.
All the things he’s wanted from his life: fame, love, respect, notoriety and infamy, do nothing to keep him afloat. They’re just these intangible concepts that don’t keep him dry at night. These transient ideas run over his body like water in the bath, and he can’t quite figure out how’s he’s gotten to where he is now.
There are huge bodies of water separating Germany and Manchester and Wellington and Los Angeles. Dom’s not sure how he’s crossed them all without drowning, because right now he’s water-logged, and everything’s convoluted, and he’s liable to make a stupid mistake.
He thinks if somebody doesn’t save him soon, there could be an accident.
All Dom’s ever wanted is to see the world, to feel like he belongs and to sail his own ship wherever it may take him.
He’s never wanted to be unhappy. It’s happened all on its own.
And all he’s able to do now, is standby and hope he doesn’t wind up stranded someplace he can‘t be found.
Dom’s never meant to be unkind to the people in his life. He’s just wanted to feel alive. He’s wanted so much out of everything he does, but all he‘s found is disappointment and lies. He’s loved and lost; he’s been hurt and denied, and he wonders what he’s supposed to do now -- now that he can’t remember any of the good times.
He’s only 27. He feels so much older. He feels used and abandoned and lost. He’s tired, now. He doesn’t think he’s felt this exhausted before. It’s not the kind of knackered that comes from working 16-hour days in the rain when his joints are ready to give out and he’d take years off his life to have a lie-down. This kind of worn out is much, much worse.
He can feel it in his bones.
He lives in a city where people know his name but don’t care about him at all.
He sleeps around and shags girls without names. Faceless and placeless boys give him releases that only wind him up tighter in the end.
He’s a stranger, abandoned to his own devices, and he’s never felt more at sea.
There’s nothing for him to anchor to, and he’s afraid he‘ll be floundering along for the rest of his life.
His days are long and his nights never end.
Since Elijah has gone, he sleeps as many hours as he can.
Jealousy over people he doesn’t know consumes him like a parasite. Everything he does has never been enough to make him content, and for a while he thought that Elijah had what he needed. But he was wrong. It’s taken him years to see that Elijah’s just as lost as he is, and Dom is lonely and alone.
He came to L.A. to be with this person, and now that it's over he’s not sure what to do with himself any more. He feels like he's been struggling along forever, and he hates being alone more than he can say.
There are no words that can begin to describe how Dom feels about Billy. There’s no one he loves more in his entire life.
The love he has for his family isn’t a tangible thing like the natty jumpers Dom nicks from Billy’s suitcase when he comes for a visit. He hoards these things like they’ll comfort him after Billy’s left him behind -- but it never works. Dom’s feelings for Billy are fierce and protective. He gets a warm burn in his stomach every time Billy says his name.
There’s no one that he needs more than this tiny Scotsman, who says his name with a lilt and smile on his face, and Dom can‘t even find the words to make their relationship change into something he only vaguely dreams about. His reality lives thousands of miles away, and Dom can’t get past his overwhelming hatred of this girl who makes tea for Billy’s breakfast.
She has the thing that Dom wants, and Dom has amazingly large possessiveness issues. He’s never particularly done well with sharing. Never. Dom went off with Elijah thinking that Billy would come around -- only he never has, and Dom knows that Ali doesn’t need Billy the way he does.
Billy is Dom’s lifeline, and he lives for Billy’s approval like most people crave air.
The more time they spend apart, the harder Dom finds it to breathe on his own.
L.A. was supposed to be his city. It was supposed to fix all the broken bits and frayed ends and things that Dom knows are wrong. Except that Dom's never fully adapted to Pacific Standard Time.
Except that Dom feels more broken now than when he arrived.
He thought California would be his making, and now he’s more undone than when he left New Zealand. In Los Angeles, Dom is being suffocated by a sea of people who want to see him drown, and he talks about New Zealand like it’s the promised land. Dry and safe and not completely surrounded by water on all sides.
He’s willing to go anywhere if he thinks it will be better than this -- except he doesn't know how.
Dom’s head is a cannonball on his shoulders, and the weight on his neck keeps pulling him under. Every day it gets a little bit harder to look people in the eye. One day he’s just going to stop altogether.
It does rain in Southern California, everyone that says otherwise just lies, and Dom spends his time at coffee shops, scribbling in his recycled journal about all the things that have never come to pass. He flakes on public appearances and goes blank when people inquire after his name and the things he does to fill his days.
His fame is trickling away like sand he’s been holding too tight, and the air he breathes is full of smog and depression. It sits in his lungs like the cigarettes he smokes outside, and he goes to casting calls and can’t remember his lines.
Dom’s skin is clammy and damp, and he wraps himself in scarves and jumpers and thick cotton socks to try and keep himself dry. He spends his time reading about saving trees and forests and focusing on absorbent things that might keep him afloat for just that wee bit longer.
All his hopes that the Land of Dreams might fill the holes in his life are frittering away, and he thinks that maybe he wants to go home now.
He’s tired of being at sea.
Epilogue
Elijah is the first one to notice that something‘s not quite right. He invites Dom for a weekend in Manhattan, which Dom declines. Instead he goes to an art gallery opening and winds up shagging a blonde who looks eerily like Orlando.
Three days later Orli, himself, rings. He’s in town on a press junket for Troy, and he wants to have lunch. Dom’s completely horrified that Orli’s turned into the kind of bloke who ‘does lunch’ with other people, and he begs off to spend the afternoon with his Playstation and Grand Theft Auto.
Dom has no idea of the date when Billy calls, and Dom’s just come home after being caught in yet another strange L.A. version of torrential rain. It only lasts 15 minutes at a stretch, but it occurs about eight times a day.
The phone is slippery in his grasp, and Billy’s voice is staticy and hard to focus on because there’s water in Dom’s ears.
“Ready to come home yet?” Billy asks.
Dom thinks about the water dripping into his eyes and the squishy discomfort of the wet trainers on his feet. He thinks about how much it rains in England and how California never seems to keep him dry. He’s been coming apart at the seams and letting the rain in for too long.
“Yeah,” Dom says after several minutes of Billy breathing in his ear. He thinks he can feel Billy’s warmth as though he’s standing next to him holding a lifeline. “I think it’s about time.”
-end-
Beta by
serialkarma, who I am slowly corrupting more and more every day. It’s very exciting.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2004-02-21 07:10 pm (UTC)Beautiful.
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Date: 2004-02-23 06:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-02-21 07:23 pm (UTC)*sobs*
I still need that icon. damn.
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Date: 2004-02-23 06:28 pm (UTC)I'm sorry, baby, but this just makes me laugh like a drain.
no subject
Date: 2004-02-21 08:16 pm (UTC)Re:
Date: 2004-02-23 06:30 pm (UTC)Re:
Date: 2004-02-23 06:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-02-21 08:23 pm (UTC)I loved this line. Beautiful, and so illustrative with such simplicity. Wonderful!
(sorry, for the double post - I'm an idiot somedays)
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Date: 2004-02-23 06:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-02-21 08:37 pm (UTC)yes.
simply yes.
thank you.
i need to see dom going home omg.
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Date: 2004-02-23 06:31 pm (UTC)Huh. For you, I will think on this.
no subject
Date: 2004-02-21 09:07 pm (UTC)May I add you to my friends?
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Date: 2004-02-23 07:01 pm (UTC)I'll take your word for that.
May I add you to my friends?
If you like.
no subject
Date: 2004-02-21 09:16 pm (UTC)He’s never wanted to be unhappy. It’s happened all on its own.
This line reminds me of those PSAs from when I was a kid:
"Nobody ever says, 'I want to be a junkie when I grow up.'"
This kind of worn out is much, much worse. He can feel it in his bones.
I totally felt like this at 20. Is there a fifth of a century-crisis? (OK, I still feel this way. So does almost everyone I know.)
And, oh, Billy. Sigh.
Also, do you know the Morrissey song "Seasick Yet Still Docked (http://www.seeklyrics.com/lyrics/Morrissey/Seasick-Yet-Still-Docked.html)"? So overwhelmingly appropriate.
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Date: 2004-02-23 07:02 pm (UTC)"Nobody ever says, 'I want to be a junkie when I grow up.'"
I wasn't supposed to laugh, was I? Bad Z, no cookie.
I totally felt like this at 20. Is there a fifth of a century-crisis? (OK, I still feel this way. So does almost everyone I know.)
Oh, absolutely, but the one at 25 is a bit more intense. [sing-song voice] You'll see [/sing-song voice]
no subject
Date: 2004-02-23 07:24 pm (UTC)That does not make me happy at all, considering how horrid the one at 20 was. And the one at 21. And 22. And -- oh, the one I'm going through right now.
*hand*staple*forehead*
I wasn't supposed to laugh, was I
You were, actually. I did! *cookie*
no subject
Date: 2004-02-21 11:14 pm (UTC)Okay, so I took a break after reading this so I could actually formulate a thought and that didn't work. Because this is it, yo. This is what I've been thinking about, under the surface, when it comes to my Dommeh. Who I adore, but is definitely starting to show signs of. Something.
Anyway. This line. Yes. It broke me.
Except that Dom's never fully adapted to Pacific Standard Time.
When I lived in the UK, I never felt like I adapated to the time zone. I slept and ate and did everything on ET. And I was there for over a year. It fucks with you. The second I stepped off the plane in Boston, I felt a veil pull up and off of me. It was totally insane. And all those feelings came whooshing back when I read this piece.
*luffs you*
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Date: 2004-02-23 07:06 pm (UTC)Indeed.
no subject
Date: 2004-02-22 02:41 am (UTC)Re:
Date: 2004-02-23 07:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-02-22 03:11 am (UTC)Oh yes. Bittersweet and poignantly observed. Things I've been thinking, feeling, worrying over for a while now (and isn't that just a right good sign of obsession going too far when you worry about some guy you don't know).
Heartbroken and mended (hopefully) all in one story. Love this.
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Date: 2004-02-23 07:04 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2004-02-23 07:04 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2004-02-24 03:38 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2004-02-23 07:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-02-23 06:56 pm (UTC)Re:
Date: 2004-02-23 07:05 pm (UTC)