Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
* * *
"I really don't give a shit about who is going to spend the night here, as long as they all stay away from the bedroom!" Dom calls out, voice louder than the bass-heavy music, his body draped over the side of the couch, clumsily kneeing Billy in the back. Beer sloshes out of his bottle with the abrupt movements he is making, and Billy looks up and opens his mouth, attempting to catch the alcohol Dom is spilling.
"You've got a rotten aim, man," Billy growls, wiping at his chin, and walks off to grab his own bottle from the large case in the bathroom. With his support gone, Dom collapses on the couch, landing in Karl's lap, who looks him up and down, unperturbed, and licks his jaw.
"Eeeewww!" Dom squeaks and tries to scramble into an upright position. He practically falls off the couch and manages to stagger towards the bedroom. He pushes the door open, then closes it again and blocks out the loud noise of drunken voices and droning music.
His head spins and his ears ring with the silence that suddenly surrounds him like cotton candy, and he looks around, squinting his eyes, trying to get used to the darkness. Just when he starts thinking it is in fact awfully decent of his mates not to turn the bedroom into a mess as well, he realises he's not alone.
"Fancy a shag, Britboy?"
Alcohol, nicotine and too much talking make Elijah sound incredibly sexy to Dom's ears and, tempted, he moves to where his boyfriend is sitting on the bed. "You offering?" Dom grins and climbs onto it, crawling close to Lij on all fours. "With our friends one flimsy wall away?" He gets another lick in response, a welcome one this time.
"I want you, Dom," is all Lij says, and his whisper is low and husky. He extends his hand, holding out his beer bottle and Dom takes it from him, drinks from it greedily, and puts it on the bedside table. He never takes his eyes off Elijah, who has started to slowly unzip his jeans under which he isn't wearing any underwear. Dom's gaze flickers over the flushed head of Elijah's rampant cock and he groans, he can't help it. He lifts his eyes and looks at Lij again who grabs his neck to pull their faces together and whispers against Dom's lips. "I am drunk and horny and I want you."
That is entirely too much for an equally intoxicated Dom to process rationally and he presses his palm flat against Elijah's partly covered crotch, watching the big blue eyes fall shut, listening to a delicious moan coming from between the parted, pink lips. He applies more pressure as he starts to massage the throbbing bulge and somewhere in the back of his head, he chants a prayer, begging the gods to keep anyone in the other room from walking in. When Lij sighs deeply and his small nail bitten fingers begin to fumble with the buttons of Dom's jeans, he throws the small thread of caution left in his brain to the wind and tears at the denim himself.
* * *
The bedroom door is slightly ajar and the two men in the bed lie nestled close together, chest to back, limbs linked. The silence in the room seems to intensify oddly with the sounds of their peaceful, regular breathing and the sporadic shifting of limbs underneath crisp white sheets.
There are clothes everywhere, strewn around with careless abandon, a pair of white dress trousers at the foot of the bed, a black and blue striped tie hanging from the lamp in the corner, shoes and socks and underwear scattered randomly across the floor.
Elijah stirs but doesn't wake up. He mutters something unintelligible and crawls closer into Dom's embrace. Dom unconsciously pulls Lij's sleep-warm body tighter and nuzzles his neck, groaning his unconscious approval.
* * *
"Faster, Dom," a thought, a word, a grunt falls between their bodies and Elijah stretches and arches his back like a cat in heat, panting heavily into Dom's neck. "Just do it fucking faster." Dom circles his fist a little tighter around Lij's hard cock and pumps, increasing his pace and pressure because these days he knows exactly how Elijah wants it. He keeps his lover in a possessive embrace, his cheek resting on the downy fuzz on Lij's scalp, and he watches, hears - hell, feels how the boy is coming apart.
* * *
A mobile phone goes off somewhere in the living room and Dom's soft snores come to a halt with a start. He opens one eye and listens, closing it again as soon as he understands where the sound is coming from and decides he is not going to answer the call.
Who the hell would call them this early anyway?
Although barely awake, his body immediately forces him to take inventory of its current condition. His head hurts like a bitch, his legs feel somewhat numb, his throat is sore and dry, and when he tries to swallow, it takes him three efforts to restore normal saliva levels inside his mouth.
Quite expected, but a bloody nuisance still. Hangover.
Elijah moves in his sleep and Dom's eyes open again. He cracks a smile when he realises he had forgotten about the warm, soft body in his arms for more than ten seconds, and his hand starts to gently roam Lij's flank and belly, silently relishing the feeling.
His mind wanders off to the night before, when he and Lij had brought each other off with nothing but a thin wall and an unlocked door between themselves and their friends, and how he had felt both exhilarated and terrified at the same time. Lij had come first and immediately moved to return the favour, causing them to stay in the bedroom even longer, and Dom knew that it was only a matter of minutes, seconds maybe, before someone outside would start missing them and would come into the very room where he was having his brains sucked out through his cock.
He had come like a freight train.
* * *
"I'm fucking serious, Lij, someone's going to come in," Dom hisses, but Elijah doesn't seem to care and pushes Dom flat on his back. "Shut up, Sblom," is the only reply and he slides his lips over Dom's cock, suckling the slit softly before he lets out a snarky grunt, frustrated with his own impatience, and he ardently moves to deep throat Dom.
* * *
While his hand is gently circling Elijah's silky smooth stomach, Dom moans quietly with the memory, and orders his hand to go in search of the more exotic places on Lij's body. He strokes down and finds Elijah's cock, uncharacteristically flaccid for the time of day, but Dom suddenly realises it is probably a lot later than he thinks it is. He cups his hand around the warm, relaxed penis and squeezes gently, amazed by the realisation that he hardly ever touches Elijah like this and how much he actually enjoys it. He can imagine his lips there now, pressing soft kisses on soft flesh.
"Having fun?" comes Elijah's quiet, sleepy voice and Dom is shaken from his daydreams.
"Yes, actually," Dom answers, and he presses his lips against Elijah's neck, his hand squeezing the now slightly hardening cock once more. "I really like your dick when it isn't so hard and demanding." They are both silent for a bit, before Lij snorts, strangely disrupting the serenity in the room, startling himself, and whispering "Yeah right" in his most unconvinced tone.
"This was by far the best one, don't you think?" Elijah mumbles into the warmth of his pillow, remembering the events of the previous day, seeing Wellington's streets lined with so many happy people. He snuggles deep into Dom's embrace, signalling that he wants to talk rather than fuck, as he feels the grandmother of all hangovers ghosting behind his eyes. Dom easily picks up on it and returns his hand to its usual place on Elijah's chest.
He nods against the nape of Lij's neck, picturing the crowds and the almost-hysterics that broke out in front of the theatre when they all walked out to meet the fans. "People are cool here," he says softly. "They make me feel at home."
Elijah squeezes Dom's hand and smiles. "I always feel at home in New Zealand, Dom," he muses. "And I loved your antics with the scrap of paper, but I already told you that." They both giggle when they think of the message Dom had pinned to the back of his jacket, surprising everyone, including Lij.
"Paris was good too, though," Dom says, and his hand starts to tease one of Elijah's nipples, which earns him a hitch in Elijah's steady breathing. "I loved seeing the Eiffel Tower together with you. But then again... Everything is better when I am with you."
They're both quiet for a while after that statement, and listen to each other's breathing, Elijah's a little heavier with Dom's softly pinching fingers still teasing his hardening nipple. "I mean it, Lij," Dom continues. "The Fellowship premiers were fantastic because I was so incredibly overwhelmed, but these were even better, simply because I know we are together."
* * *
The minute he sees him walking into the room, he tenses up, and he hates himself for it. But then there is that million-dollar smile and Sean knows it is all right. Elijah bounces through the press room, leaving Dom behind who just smiles his crooked smirk and winks at Christine and watches how his love almost knocks Sean over in his enthusiasm.
Sean's arms quickly circle around Lij's small body, and they just stand there for a while, holding each other close, aware of the press and their cameras flashing, but not willing to care. When they let go, and are being pulled into different corners of the room, Sean mumbles a quick "thank you" into Lij's ear and the dazzling smile returns once more. "You too," comes the reply and he walks off backwards, eyes not leaving Sean's until he has to turn around and face another journalist.
"Elijah," a rather loud voice comes from behind an intimidating microphone. "What's true of all those rumours that you and Dom are in a relationship together?" Elijah freezes up inside, knowing how he hates when this happens, but he schools his face and laughs, like he has been laughing all evening, so happy in the knowledge that he and Dom are indeed together and Sean just gave him the hug he craved so much.
His insides are stone cold, though, and for once he is glad he has the ability to act because it's moments like these when he bloody well needs it.
"Is it that obvious?" he asks and pulls a face. "Dom!" he calls and Dom looks at him as surprised as possible, having secretly followed their exchange. "Guess what this lady is asking me!!" and Dom raises his eyebrows, silently impressed by how Lij is handling this so far, considering the fact that he would have been reduced to nothing had it been asked two months earlier.
Dom makes his way over, and drapes his arm possessively around Elijah's neck and shoulders. "What is it, love?" he croons, knowing he is pushing things dangerously close, but also noticing the unease in the reporter's eyes. "This lady here wants to know if we're together, Sblom," Elijah giggles insanely and turns his face to look at his lover. "Whatever gave her that idea, do you think?"
"What? Us?!" Dom deliberately swipes his tongue across Lij's cheek and lets go of him. "We're too obvious then?" Both men are giggling now and the lady journalist has trouble keeping a straight face, both amused and squirming with the apparent ridiculousness of her question. "I guess we are, Sblom," Elijah manages to answer and playfully pushes Dom back in the direction of his interviewer. He turns around, not giving Dom a second glance, and looks at the reporter again. "Any other questions?"
* * *
"What time is it, do you think?" Dom suddenly asks and Lij wakes up from a shallow slumber, still managing to keep his hangover headache at bay. "Dunno," comes the muffled reply and Lij reaches across the bedside table to push the digital clock around.
"Christ," Dom chuckles. "It's two o'clock..." He stretches onto his back, letting go of Elijah's body and yawning profusely. "I'm going to call for some breakfast, Lij, erm... Lunch... Right. Food." He gets up from the bed and walks into the other room, in search of the phone that has got to be somewhere in the after-party mess.
* * *
Lij rolls onto his stomach, but when he feels it clench horribly he decides against it and rolls onto his back again. He closes his eyes and listens to Dom's padding through the living room, cleaning things up a little, all the while ordering some big breakfast over the phone. The thought of food makes Elijah's stomach turn and he groans.
Two more days here in Wellington and then the whole premier circus will be over. Some press, some photo shoots, but nothing major. Today is even going to be a day off for the two of them. Lij considers it a good thing, as the past few weeks had gone by in a haze of spotlights and interviews and boring parties where very often and very easily too much alcohol had ended up in his bloodstream. He needs today to get himself together a bit, and think about all the stuff that has happened. Because Dom is right. The premier here in Wellington had been so good, he loved it here. And he had survived New York after that session with Sean, and Paris had been like a dream, with Dom's birthday and the thrill of being in that beautiful European city, and he had even been able to cope with what they had dubbed 'the One Question'.
Dom had smiled at him later that night, telling him how convincingly he had pulled his answer off, and how proud he had felt. Dom had once more assured him that he really didn't mind hiding things for as long as Elijah needed to. He said that being together was more important to him than shouting it from the rooftops. Their families and friends knew, and that was enough.
"Let the world figure it out for themselves, love," Dom always said when the walls threatened to close in on him all over again, and he would grab him, and kiss him, or just teasingly lick his face and dart off again. Those words and those actions would eventually have the desired calming effect on Elijah and as a result he didn't often freak out anymore.
His thoughts cloud over when he remembers LA. That premier had started out so easy, with the prospect of being able to go home after all the glamorous fuss would be over, and sleep in his own bed, and just simply be with Dom without the hassle of hotels and never-ending parties that he couldn't leave until the entire Fellowship was ready to go. Maybe that prospect had brought his guard down, had shown his vulnerability to the world, because that night, outside the theatre, the question had been popped once more, so rudely and blatantly that he had clamped up completely.
* * *
"It's true then, isn't it?" the woman continues. "I am not imagining things. The two of you are together. You're awfully quiet. Why don't you deny my words, Elijah? It's what the two of you have been doing for the past years, haven't you? Deny that you are shagging each other."
Elijah's eyes want to grow wide, but he squints, fighting a hopeless battle. 'Where the fuck is Dom?' he thinks and his eyes dart around quickly, but the press shark picks up on it.
"What is it? Can't make up your mind? Come on, our audience deserves to know such things. People hate being lied at." She pushes the microphone under his nose once more and the camera never stops filming. "Come on Frodo," she sneers. "Let's just get this over with and finally tell the world you're gay."
* * *
"No fucking way," he curses loudly to himself and Dom re-enters the room right that second, carrying two mugs of coffee. "You okay?" he asks as he hands one over. Elijah gratefully accepts his mug, but keeps quiet, not wishing to bring the subject up with Dom again. They had discussed it, had fought about it, he had even cried over it, for fuck's sake. He won't bring it up any time soon again. So he just nods vaguely and sips his coffee.
"You sure, love?" Dom asks again, pressing the matter. "Because if nothing's wrong, why'd you swear when I walked in?" He crawls onto the bed and sits on it cross-legged, facing Elijah, who continues to drink his coffee, pretending he didn't hear Dom.
"Lij," and he waggles a finger in his face. "Open, remember? We need to be open with each other." He puts his own mug down and takes Elijah's away as well, placing them both on the nightstand. He scoots closer and lets his hand wander mindlessly across Lij's sheet-covered body.
"It's not LA again, is it?" Dom asks, suddenly on edge, and stops his absent-minded stroking of Lij's leg through the bedcovers. Their eyes meet and Elijah is fighting to keep the emotion out of his eyes. "Are you still upset because of that press bitch?" Dom's hand slides off his lover's body completely and he plucks some invisible lint from the sheets.
"Will you just forget about her?" he adds, but Elijah gives him his frustrated-bordering-on-angry expression. "I fucked that one up, Dom. And God only knows how she is going to spin my words around once she starts writing. Doesn't that bother you?!"
"Just let it be," Dom mutters and picks up his mug again. "Don't give it the time of day, it's not worth it." He hands him his mug again, noticing how the nail-bitten fingers tremble with badly channeled frustration. "I mean it, Lij, just get over it." He stares at Elijah's eyes, wondering why Confusion has been let in again on a day that had started out so perfectly.
"You know," he continues after a while, trying to salvage that perfection. "People will always say and write what they like to say and write. It's not something you or I have much control over, Lij." He sighs and drops his head. "So please, why don't you just give it a rest?"
"Because unlike you, Dom," Elijah's voice sounds harsh in the quiet of the room as his barely-contained anger erupts. "I am still unable to deal with the fact someone calls me a... a faggot." Dom looks up in surprise, seeing the hurt in his lover's eyes.
"Lij?" he asks, startled, but it's no use and Dom knows it. Elijah is out of the bed in a flash, wincing visibly with the sudden pain in his head and the immediate churning of his upset stomach. He grabs some clothes together and, before Dom can say or do anything, he has stormed off into the bathroom.
"Lij!" Dom calls again and briefly wonders if he should follow him. He decides against it and drops down on the edge of the bed again, wondering why Elijah never said anything about this before.
He had explained to Dom in detail how that woman in LA last week had cornered him and had asked him the question so blatantly that he had to struggle to find a way out, but no matter how hard Dom tries to remember their many conversations and arguments over this subject, Lij had never mentioned any name-calling. And the sheer fact that Elijah had chosen not to tell Dom about that, pisses him off big time.
After five minutes Elijah re-appears from the bathroom, fully clothed, white as a sheet, scooping up his shoes from the messy floor, fumbling angrily with the unwilling laces. When he is done, he grabs his jacket and stomps off in the direction of the door.
"Lij, calm down, will you?" Dom tries, but all he's met with are a pair of unbelievably wild blue eyes. "Can we talk about this? You never mentioned this before. Come on, talk to me."
Lij shakes his head, throwing his jacket on, patting for smokes and a wallet, opening the door. "I need some air," he growls and turns to walk out.
"Leaving me again, are we?" Dom hisses, but his voice is growing louder. "Don't you dare, you hear!? Don't you dare!" Before the last words have left his mouth, Elijah is gone, leaving Dom standing in the tiny hall of their two-room suite.
He steps forward and quietly closes the door.
Walking back into the bedroom, he notices the painful silence all of a sudden, so different from the warm, secure serenity the two of them had woken up to. Dom sits down on the bed, then stretches to lie on his back, feet still touching the floor. He closes his eyes and exhales.
He knows Elijah well enough to expect this reaction. Whenever things become really difficult for him and their relationship, he often chooses to bail, at least for a while. Dom knows Elijah's head is still full of mixed emotions and he has learned to accept that sometimes Lij just doesn't want him around when he is trying to make sense of things.
This time, however, knowing and understanding Elijah doesn't seem to be enough. The fact that every time he is left behind, with no sense of what's going to happen next, or even knowing where the hell Lij took off to, is starting to get to him.
"We can't go on this way," he mutters to himself and moves around to pull Lij's pillow against his chest, curling his body around it, slowly squeezing it, smoothing it.
"I can't."
* * *
It is summer in New Zealand, and today is particular proof of that. Dom had tied his jacket around his waist ages ago, yet sweat stands in glittering beads on his forehead. He pushes his constantly sliding shades in place again and rounds another corner, trying to remember the exact spot.
The path is becoming steeper and steeper by the minute and Dom stops, pulling a water bottle from his backpack, drinking eagerly. He groans when he feels his body protesting, his hangover persistent and ugly. He drinks more water and scans the road ahead. Maybe twenty minutes more, he estimates, and then he should be high enough to be able to spot the place he's looking for. He pushes the water bottle into his bag, shoulders it, and starts walking again.
When he finally reaches the path's highest point, he stretches his weary back and takes off his sunglasses, letting out an exhausted breath, double-taking at the stunning view of the ocean. He has never seen it this blue, its colour enhanced by the incredible blueness of the sky and the dazzling pure white of a few stray clouds.
Dom bends his legs and sits down, grass and sand between his fingers, eyes staring off into the endless distance. After a while he pulls his water bottle out and drinks, stands up and scans the path ahead of him. It is no more than a ten-minute walk now, and not bothering with stuffing the bottle back into the bag, he sets off again, a half-smile around his lips, his hangover almost forgotten.
Fifteen minutes later, he drops his bag on the ground and sits down on the old, shabby, weather-beaten bench. He sighs and turns his face to the ocean.
Time to re-charge, be different, be new.
* * *
He opens his eyes when he feels a hand on his shoulder. He feels the weight there, the pressure, the span of fingers and thumb, and he knows.
"Can I sit with you?" comes the expected question and Dom nods, never taking his eyes off the ocean.
They sit in silence for a few minutes, watching the water, the clouds, the slender fingers slowly encircling the ragged ones.
"I don't know what to say to you, Dom," is the first sentence that breaks the peace. "Except that I am sorry I didn't tell you everything."
Dom doesn't say a thing, he just studies the tips of his fingers moving across white skin lying perfectly still in his grasp.
"I feel so useless at times, Dom," the voice is tired now, suffering from over-use. "It's just that I feel ashamed of what people say, and I can't bring myself to telling you something like that. I thought I'd keep it to myself and try to get over it."
A sob.
"I seem to be making such stupid mistakes all the time," Lij's voice becomes soft and fragile. "And I am sorry I continue to make your life so miserable, Sblom."
Dom watches the small hand being pulled from between his fingers and he instantly misses the weight, the pressure. He lets his head fall back and stares at the pale blue of the summer sky, smiling.
"Rubbish," he says and finally turns his head to look at Elijah.
"You do make wrong decisions at times, yes. But at least you're making them. And never believe for one single fucking minute that I won't make them either." He picks the small hand up again and traces the tiny, bitten nails with his own fingertips.
"You venture and I venture and sometimes we fall, but we crawl back up and patch things back together. And sure, it hurts, there are scars, there is pain. You think I don't know how you sometimes cry in the middle of the night, when you assume I am asleep and you try to come to terms with the inexcusable things some people throw at you? You think I don't know how that feels, how angry their words make me? Don't you realise I hate it when people hurt you like that?"
Another silence.
"I know you know," Elijah whispers and catches a single tear from the corner of Dom's eye with his finger. "I just need to learn how to remember it."
Dom nods, a small smile on his lips.
"Yet I will remember, Dom," Elijah continues. "I will learn, because I need you. I need you to be my ocean, I need you to be bigger than the things I have to deal with when I step outside my door. I need you to be that ocean that is always there, familiar and constant and so big it obliterates everything that doesn't really matter."
"And no matter how often I trip and crash and scramble to get on my fucking feet again, I must learn how to remember, Dom, because I want to be your ocean as well. I want to be something bigger than whatever people do to bring you down or make you feel bad or hurt you. I want to become what you have been for me all this time..."
Dom smiles, wipes at his eyes once more and pulls his love closer, softly shaking his head. "Ssshh, baby," he whispers and touches his soft, pale cheek. "Don't you see that I found my ocean years ago?"
He wraps his arms around Elijah's narrow shoulders and in turn he can feel two hands close around the small of his back. Their foreheads come together and the warmth of the setting sun seeps into them, quietly, constantly, soothingly.
And stormy grey meets infinite blue.
EPILOGUE
Sblom,
I feel good enough today to sit up and hold a pen and paper for longer than two minutes, so I am going to write you this letter. Of course I could have phoned you or sent you an e-mail, but I really want you to be able to keep this scrubby piece of paper with my currently very shaky handwriting on it in your hands - tangible and real.
Call me a romantic - I know I am.
First, I miss you so much, you have no idea. I can't wait for you to return from Manchester to come and warm our bed again. I need to wake up in your arms and listen to you breathing next to me. Every day we're not together feels worse than the day before and adding to that the fact that I'll be in a bloody hospital for five more days with a burning hole in my abdomen must surely qualify for me to be the sorriest man alive.
Mom told me you felt horrible for not being here with me now, but that's okay - I am really very grumpy at best since I woke up with a tube sticking out of my stomach, and right now, I am certainly not your company of choice - believe me.
I am afraid that, for the past months, I haven't been the best of company to you anyway. It hasn't been easy, you and me - together. I know I still worry a lot, and that, at times, I still try to shut you out. I have tried to explain to you how sorry I am each and every time I behave like that, and I feel I should apologise to you right now for the times that - I fear - will still come on occasion when I am going to tell you I don't need you. Of course, that is stupid and not true and simply my own insecurities getting the better of me.
The fear in my mother's eyes these past few days has taught me something, though, and that is that I should stop worrying and doubting and fighting. It's about time I just accepted that, apparently, this is what life has in store for me: equal parts beauty and fear.
You, my Sblom, and the world outside.
The ring has become a symbol for me. A symbol that says I am strong enough to forget about the people out there, who in the end, do not really matter: the public, the fans, the press, the homophobes... Wearing this ring is about kicking Confusion out on the street and never allowing it in again. Maybe it will still peek through the windows every once in a while, but that must be the end of it.
I cannot put this on in front of you, because I feel this is really just about me. Please, don't think I am shutting you out of this, it's just that it is something I want to do without any distractions, just me and the bathroom mirror. Wearing it means I am strong enough to let it be about me.
Simply and only me.
And ultimately you, because these days, there really is no me without you.
Make a life with me, Dom, a life without Confusion. If I know you and I know me, it will still be hard at times, and Confusion will keep trying to barge in, but I hope, I believe, I know we stand a chance, so let's grab it.
We will be fucking beautiful.
Lij.
Finished October 1st, 2004
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