Apr. 26th, 2010 09:28 pm
hannah_chapter1: (Default)
Title: Vigil
Author: hannah_chapter
Pairing: Belldom
Rating: R maybe, couple of naughty words
Summary: In the dark heart of night, in the cold, unforgiving light of day, we each keep a vigil.
Feedback: Always welcome
Disclaimers: In an ideal world I would own Muse and Matt Bellamy would be tied to my bed right now. But this is not an ideal world so I don't own Muse, Matt Bellamy or Dom Howard and none of this ever happened. I don't own David Tennant and he's not chained to my bed either, but that's another story...

In the dark heart of night, in the cold, unforgiving light of day, we each keep a vigil.

Dom lies on his bed, his body slicked with sweat. It is a hot night and he has kicked his blanket off, it lies on the floor beside his bed. He rests peacefully tonight. There have been so many nights where he tosses and turns and moans in the grip of nightmares he can't break out of. Sometimes he calls my name and it breaks my heart every single time. But not tonight. His sleep is deep, his breathing slow and steady.

I sit and watch him, as I have every night for the past six months. It has become routine. Once I am sure Dom has succumbed to his body's need for rest I slip into his bedroom. I do not try to speak to him or touch him, I gave up all those rights six months ago. All I can do is watch, drinking in every inch of the face and form I know and love so well. Then, before he wakes, I slip out of his room, leaving no sign that I was ever here.

And when night has given way to day Dom will come to me. From a distance he will keep watch over me, he will keep his own vigil. When day changes back into night Dom will go home and sleep and the cycle will begin again. Dom and I have trodden a strange path over the years: friends, bandmates, lovers. And now, mutual voyeurs, each unable to give the other up, even after all that's happened.

Do you know about my visits Dom? I know all about yours. Everyday I feel your presence, feel your eyes on me. I wish you would confront me, say something, say anything, but I know you won't. Because you still haven't forgiven me for leaving you and I don't think you ever will. I'm so sorry, Dom. I'm sorry for the pain I've caused you and I'm sorry for what I've done. But how was I supposed to know, how could I have guessed that one stupid mistake would seperate us forever. Please believe me when I say I'd give anything to turn the clock back. But I can't and now we both suffer for my mistake.

But I refuse to take all of the blame. You can't lay it all on me, Dom. We were pulled apart and it's my fault, I know. But you are the one making sure we will never reconcile. If you could open your mind just a little, search your heart and find some way to forgive me, then maybe there'd be a chance  we could be together again some day. But you've closed yourself off, used your pain and your spite to build a wall around yourself, a wall no one can break through. Not even me.


When I wake up my head is pounding, so I swallow some painkillers to take the edge off the hangover and force down as much food as my fragile stomach can handle. A shower and a shave and I'm almost human again. I brush my teeth and get dressed. Now it's time to visit Matt. I turn on the car radio, thinking some music might distract me, maybe even bring back happy memories. I'm shit out of luck, though, because the DJ decides to play a Beach Boys song. And it's not one of the annoying ones about cars and girls and the joys of surfing. This is a slow one, a sad one. I've heard it before, of course, but I've never really listened to the lyrics before. But now I do and they shatter what's left of my heart:

If you should ever leave me
While life would still go on, believe me
The world could show nothing to me
So what good would living do me
God only knows what I'd be without you

Nothing, that's what I am without him - nothing. Just a broken shell of a man with nothing to live for. My hands begin to shake as they grip the steering wheel and I'm tempted to just stomp my foot down on the pedal, twist the wheel as far as it can go and just end it all. But sanity prevails, for the time being anyway, and I pull over and wait for the shakes to stop before driving on. I reach my journey's end, stop the car and get out. I can see him in the distance. This is where I usually stop, just close enough to see him. But the episode in the car on the way over has unsettled me and today I'm going to do something different - I'm going to confront him.

The headstone is a simple affair, a black, shiny stone which is supposed to look like marble but probably isn't. BELLAMY in big, gold letters and Matthew James in slightly smaller letters underneath. Two dates: his date of birth and another one. The date I relive every night in my dreams.

So stupid, it's all so fucking stupid! Everytime I think about it I want to blame someone, hurt someone because it's all so fucking unfair! It all started so simply: we were hungry but coudn't be bothered to cook anything, easier just to get takeaway. Matt lost the coin toss so it fell to him to pick it up. As he was parking, another car hit him and tore off his rear bumper. Matt and the other guy got out, angry words were exchanged and neither man would back down. And then words were not enough, a knife was produced and my Matt was lying on the ground, his life bleeding out of him.

As I sit here beside Matt's grave I remember the phone call, going to identify his body, how it felt to be the one to tell his family, to tell Chris and Tom. Facing all those reporters and their endless questions. And now I know what to say to him. "Why, Matt? Why did you have to be so stupid? He smashed up your car a bit, so fucking what, you could have bought ten more to replace it. You could have just laughed off the damage and gone on your way. But you just couldn't let it go, you had to be right. Look where it's gotten you. And look what it's done to me! Your fault! ALL YOUR FAULT!"

Even as I say the words I know I don't mean them and I feel something inside me break. All these months I've blamed him for splitting us apart, I've kept my anger alive, a little ball of pain and rage festering where my heart used to be. It was easier this way, to keep anger up front and keep my grief locked deep down inside me. If I allow myself to grieve I would heal and if I heal I might forget how much I loved him. To me, that is unacceptable. But I can't do it anymore, I can't hide behind walls of rage and pain forever. It's taken all my strength to keep them up all these months. Cracks began to appear when I heard that stupid song on the radio. And now, as my voice echoes around the quiet graveyard, they collapse completely and I sink to my knees, weeping.

The stone is smooth and cold as I press my face against it. I run my fingers over the raised letters and remember how it felt to run my hand slowly over his face, his neck, to feel his pulse beating beneath my fingertips. How it felt to lie with my head on his chest, listening to his hearbeat. And I find myself talking to him, telling him I love him, I'll always love him, that I didn't mean any of the things I just said, I don't blame him. I tell him we'll be together again someday. Of course I get no answer, it truly would be a miracle if I did. But I feel better, lighter, like the poison in my heart has finally leaked out. I sit by the grave, thinking, until the light begins to bleed out of the sky and it's time to go home. When I come tomorrow I'll bring some flowers, maybe tidy up the grass a bit.


Dom lies on his stomach tonight. I kneel beside him and talk to him, telling him that I love him, that I haven't left him, I never will and that we will be together again. He doesn't move or give any sign that he's heard. But that's alright, just saying the words is enough for me, that and the sure knowledge that he still loves me, doesn't blame me. Now I have hope. One day, I'm sure, we'll be together again. But until that day comes, I'll continue to watch over him, to keep my vigil.


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August 2016

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