hackthis_archive (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hackthis_archive) wrote2004-03-01 12:14 pm
hackthis_archive) wrote2004-03-01 12:14 pm
LOTRips - What’s Read and White and Nearly Over
This idea was a lot better formed at four in the morning. Typical.
LOTRips Oscar-Fic
DM & BB & EW in…
What’s Read and White and Nearly Over
For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lalejandra
Dom’s jealousy is a thin, green plasticine veneer sticking to every surface he comes in contact with. It’s in his touch.
His jealousy is splattered all over his duvet cover and in thick splotches on the doorknob. His mobile phone is coated in a jealous film, and his favorite rings are tarnished in that fake-gold way. The colour is acidically lime, almost neon, and it eats away at everything Dom has. Billy. Elijah. His career.
As he lies awake, waiting for Mackenzie to come knock on his door because the car has arrived, he wonders why no one has said anything before. He wonders what he’s done to taint his entire life this way. No one can possibly look good in this shade of green, not when it’s toxic to everything in Dom’s life. This is why Elijah is gone. This is why Billy is with her. He would’ve done less damage to his career by jumping off of a cliff, and this is why Dom is going to keep his hands to himself tonight. This is why his suit hangs in his closet, safely wrapped away and separated from all the other questionable items, like Dom’s touch.
*
Dom rings Elijah on his way to the hotel to pick Billy up, and ‘Lij’s voice is groggy like he just woke up. He never gets up before one anyway, and the fact that it’s almost eleven and he’s semi-coherent says a lot. Dom lets it go because the mobile is already sticking to his ear.
He cracks the window for better reception and lights a fag as Elijah rambles on and on about something Dom’s got no interest in at all. Sometimes, Dom rings just to hear Elijah’s voice, but they don’t talk about things like that anymore. Instead, Dom inhales thick smoke and nicotine and the jealousy that coats his lungs like tar. His words are stilted. They hang in the air around him in little, green bubbles like the comics he collects from Meltdown on Sunset. He’ll just pretend that he can’t hear whomever that is in the background at all.
*
Dom licks a great stripe up the center of his palm thoughtfully. The gel in his hair tastes sugary like sweets; it’s not sticky at all, and when the hair stylist makes a choking noise behind him, Dom suspects he wasn’t actually supposed to taste it, but then why give it to him?
He grins at the man’s reflection on the mirror before focusing on the other reflection over the corner of his left shoulder. Billy’s nose is firmly tucked into the Mojo Dom’s brought with him. He’s pensive and thoughtful and firmly not focused on anything having to do with Dom at all.
Dom shifts around in his chair while the stylist considers his hair again and again as though it’s some animal at the zoo. Dom wonders if his hairdresser can see the green envy coating the roots of Dom’s hair and all over his scalp. It’s probably what’s keeping Billy away, and the more Dom tries not to fidget, the harder it gets. He twists his rings on his fingers until he can feel them digging into his skin. He’s tired of sitting still. He’s tired of being cooped up in this salon and being poked at like an animal on display – but after tonight it will really be over. No reprieve. No penalty shots or overtime.
“How long now?” he asks, again.
“Three minutes since the last time you asked.” Billy responds without looking up, and Dom wonders how he alienated Billy enough that he won’t even meet Dom’s eyes anymore.
Billy’s always had the most amazing green eyes Dom’s ever seen, but maybe that’s enough green for him. Maybe he’s tired of the dirty looks that Dom can’t control and the way that Dom’s constantly warring with Ali for his attention. Maybe Dom’s poisoned Billy against himself.
*
The ride to the Oscars is strange and full of conversational pauses. Sean says one thing and Elijah says another. Billy talks mostly to Sean’s right shoulder, and all Dom can see is the green cast over everyone around him. He presses back against the seats and twists his rings, muttering "Scheisse" over and over again. When Sean begins to fret, Dom assures him that it’s nothing. He gets a weak laugh at the suggestion that he left the stove on and won’t Mac be ready to flay him when he gets home later tonight.
*
Dominic’s hell is the people he loves pulling away from him on national television, and when Billy jerks away from him in front of Joan sodding Rivers, all Dom can do is wonder if Billy can actually feel the toxicicity of Dom’s touch. He wonders if everyone else can see the little green splotches he’s leaving on everyone’s clothing.
As they work the press lines down to the front door, Dom can feel himself lagging behind like always, and every smiling photograph is a lie.
*
He sits next to Elijah and perhaps that’s better than anything else in the end. Elijah’s become almost immune to anything having to do with Dom since he moved away, and whatever tears Dom might shed will roll off of him like a duck and water. Except when they’re all on stage together, finally, Dom has never felt more alone, and he wonders if anyone can tell he’s standing apart from everyone else. It’s not terribly noticeable if you’re looking down the line, but in a wide-angle lens, Dom’s in a tiny world all his own. Hands tucked safely under his armpits, eyes firmly focused on the blue and green dots in the first tier of the balcony above them all.
This is the end of everything he’s known for the last four years of his life, and no matter how hard he’s tried to hold on to it, it will all fall away after tonight.
*
Dom’s love is a touch on the shoulder and a wet glint in his eye, and apologies are all he can offer for the last few months of his life. Elijah is sorry for this, and he’s sorry for that. In the back of the limousine they talk about what went wrong and why it was never going to be enough to begin with.
Long after Elijah’s gone back to the party, Dom is outside, lounging against the boot of the car, and when Billy finds him there, he doesn’t toss away his fag end like he used to. A lecture has to be better than the dead look in Billy’s eyes, and Dom has no idea what to say when Billy pulls him into the circle of his arms without explanation or preamble. For the first time in ages, Dom relaxes and lets himself think about life now that everything else is over.
Billy’s jacket is pitch black when Dom rubs his nose against the shoulder, and he thinks its pretty amazing how jealousy’s green cast can fall away if it’s given enough time.
-end-
+ Improv: stripe, alien, sugar, grog, cliff, hand
+ Note: The title was a taken and bastardized for my own nefarious purposes from Ryan Adam’s ‘Political Scientists’
+ Again, forlalejandra
LOTRips Oscar-Fic
DM & BB & EW in…
What’s Read and White and Nearly Over
For
lalejandraDom’s jealousy is a thin, green plasticine veneer sticking to every surface he comes in contact with. It’s in his touch.
His jealousy is splattered all over his duvet cover and in thick splotches on the doorknob. His mobile phone is coated in a jealous film, and his favorite rings are tarnished in that fake-gold way. The colour is acidically lime, almost neon, and it eats away at everything Dom has. Billy. Elijah. His career.
As he lies awake, waiting for Mackenzie to come knock on his door because the car has arrived, he wonders why no one has said anything before. He wonders what he’s done to taint his entire life this way. No one can possibly look good in this shade of green, not when it’s toxic to everything in Dom’s life. This is why Elijah is gone. This is why Billy is with her. He would’ve done less damage to his career by jumping off of a cliff, and this is why Dom is going to keep his hands to himself tonight. This is why his suit hangs in his closet, safely wrapped away and separated from all the other questionable items, like Dom’s touch.
Dom rings Elijah on his way to the hotel to pick Billy up, and ‘Lij’s voice is groggy like he just woke up. He never gets up before one anyway, and the fact that it’s almost eleven and he’s semi-coherent says a lot. Dom lets it go because the mobile is already sticking to his ear.
He cracks the window for better reception and lights a fag as Elijah rambles on and on about something Dom’s got no interest in at all. Sometimes, Dom rings just to hear Elijah’s voice, but they don’t talk about things like that anymore. Instead, Dom inhales thick smoke and nicotine and the jealousy that coats his lungs like tar. His words are stilted. They hang in the air around him in little, green bubbles like the comics he collects from Meltdown on Sunset. He’ll just pretend that he can’t hear whomever that is in the background at all.
Dom licks a great stripe up the center of his palm thoughtfully. The gel in his hair tastes sugary like sweets; it’s not sticky at all, and when the hair stylist makes a choking noise behind him, Dom suspects he wasn’t actually supposed to taste it, but then why give it to him?
He grins at the man’s reflection on the mirror before focusing on the other reflection over the corner of his left shoulder. Billy’s nose is firmly tucked into the Mojo Dom’s brought with him. He’s pensive and thoughtful and firmly not focused on anything having to do with Dom at all.
Dom shifts around in his chair while the stylist considers his hair again and again as though it’s some animal at the zoo. Dom wonders if his hairdresser can see the green envy coating the roots of Dom’s hair and all over his scalp. It’s probably what’s keeping Billy away, and the more Dom tries not to fidget, the harder it gets. He twists his rings on his fingers until he can feel them digging into his skin. He’s tired of sitting still. He’s tired of being cooped up in this salon and being poked at like an animal on display – but after tonight it will really be over. No reprieve. No penalty shots or overtime.
“How long now?” he asks, again.
“Three minutes since the last time you asked.” Billy responds without looking up, and Dom wonders how he alienated Billy enough that he won’t even meet Dom’s eyes anymore.
Billy’s always had the most amazing green eyes Dom’s ever seen, but maybe that’s enough green for him. Maybe he’s tired of the dirty looks that Dom can’t control and the way that Dom’s constantly warring with Ali for his attention. Maybe Dom’s poisoned Billy against himself.
The ride to the Oscars is strange and full of conversational pauses. Sean says one thing and Elijah says another. Billy talks mostly to Sean’s right shoulder, and all Dom can see is the green cast over everyone around him. He presses back against the seats and twists his rings, muttering "Scheisse" over and over again. When Sean begins to fret, Dom assures him that it’s nothing. He gets a weak laugh at the suggestion that he left the stove on and won’t Mac be ready to flay him when he gets home later tonight.
Dominic’s hell is the people he loves pulling away from him on national television, and when Billy jerks away from him in front of Joan sodding Rivers, all Dom can do is wonder if Billy can actually feel the toxicicity of Dom’s touch. He wonders if everyone else can see the little green splotches he’s leaving on everyone’s clothing.
As they work the press lines down to the front door, Dom can feel himself lagging behind like always, and every smiling photograph is a lie.
He sits next to Elijah and perhaps that’s better than anything else in the end. Elijah’s become almost immune to anything having to do with Dom since he moved away, and whatever tears Dom might shed will roll off of him like a duck and water. Except when they’re all on stage together, finally, Dom has never felt more alone, and he wonders if anyone can tell he’s standing apart from everyone else. It’s not terribly noticeable if you’re looking down the line, but in a wide-angle lens, Dom’s in a tiny world all his own. Hands tucked safely under his armpits, eyes firmly focused on the blue and green dots in the first tier of the balcony above them all.
This is the end of everything he’s known for the last four years of his life, and no matter how hard he’s tried to hold on to it, it will all fall away after tonight.
Dom’s love is a touch on the shoulder and a wet glint in his eye, and apologies are all he can offer for the last few months of his life. Elijah is sorry for this, and he’s sorry for that. In the back of the limousine they talk about what went wrong and why it was never going to be enough to begin with.
Long after Elijah’s gone back to the party, Dom is outside, lounging against the boot of the car, and when Billy finds him there, he doesn’t toss away his fag end like he used to. A lecture has to be better than the dead look in Billy’s eyes, and Dom has no idea what to say when Billy pulls him into the circle of his arms without explanation or preamble. For the first time in ages, Dom relaxes and lets himself think about life now that everything else is over.
Billy’s jacket is pitch black when Dom rubs his nose against the shoulder, and he thinks its pretty amazing how jealousy’s green cast can fall away if it’s given enough time.
-end-
+ Improv: stripe, alien, sugar, grog, cliff, hand
+ Note: The title was a taken and bastardized for my own nefarious purposes from Ryan Adam’s ‘Political Scientists’
+ Again, for
lalejandra![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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