Paint the Silence

Dom sits down next to Elijah. "You okay?" He asks quietly.

Elijah takes a swig from the unmarked bottle in his hand, wipes his mouth. "No." He says, letting out a sigh. "I'm not."

Dom gingerly unwinds Elijah's fingers from around the bottle's neck and places it in his own lap, with his own fingers wrapped around it; he taps it gently, his rings making little tinkling noises into the silence. "I don't suppose you want to talk about it."

Elijah takes the bottle back, his eyes flashing angrily at Dom as he does so; Dom doesn't notice, because the glare is so fleeting. Elijah can't seem to look at him longer than two seconds. "You suppose right."

Dom sighs heavily, rolling his eyes heavenwards as he leans backwards, bracing himself on the palms of his hands. He swings his legs back and forth, not wanting to keep still, despite the fact that he feels Elijah would rather he just sat there quietly. Or maybe he'd rather he not sit there at all.

"You gonna drink yourself into oblivion, then?"

Elijah takes another, more deliberate swig from the bottle that contains liquid the color of weak tea. "Sounds about right."

Dom shakes his head, staring out into the night, his eyes grazing over tree tops and glimmering water bathed in moonlight off in the distance. It's beautiful, but Dom can't seem to concentrate on that. He can't really concentrate on much, other than the sounds mixing in with the silence that swings around them. He can only hear his own breathing, blending in with Elijah's more ragged breathing, and the swishing of his jeans as he swings his legs back and forth in a made-up rhythm.

The sounds of the party behind them, in the house that belongs to the deck they sit on, are vague and weak, and only louder when someone goes out the front door to get more beer.

"What do you want me to say?" Dom asks eventually, glancing at Elijah, whose face is turned in the other direction.

Elijah slowly shrugs his slender shoulders, and turns his blazing eyes onto Dom. "You could get me another drink."

One of Dom's eyebrows raise into his hairline. "I think you've had enough."

"I don't care what you think," Elijah retorts, satisfied when he sees Dom's look of sadness mixed with horror. Within moments, Dom's face is stoic again, his eyes betraying nothing. Elijah visibly shrinks, his voice losing its hard edge. "I'm not even slurring yet."

Dom slowly stands up, tearing Elijah's near-empty bottle from his grasp. "Just nearly."

When Elijah doesn't say anything, Dom starts walking towards the sliding glass door; he can see the party going on without them inside. He can see Viggo's smiling face, Billy's jovial (and quite drunk) dancing and Orlando sitting in the corner, nursing a girly colored alcoholic drink. The other patrons of the party are unknown to him, and he silently curses them. He wishes it were just he and Elijah so he could openly say the things he needs to say.

"For what it's worth, I am sorry," Dom mutters, sliding the door open and letting the laughter and music drift out over him. He cringes, and for once in his life he'd much prefer the silence to all the noise.

Elijah doesn't respond, and Dom doesn't look back as he goes insides and shuts the door behind him, shutting Elijah out in the process.

After a few seconds of watching the party go on around him, Dom sets Elijah's bottle down on a nearby table and goes back outside; he steps onto the deck and breathes in the musky night air, which always seems to clear his mind.

"I guess you're going to say you didn't mean to, huh?"

Dom starts, forgetting for a moment that Elijah is still out there; he's sitting in the same spot, on the edge of the deck with his legs dangling over the side.

"How'd you know it was me?"

Elijah turns around, giving him a capricious smile. "I just know." He turns back around, almost as if he wants to stop the conversation, but Dom can't just leave it there.

He takes a few steps towards Elijah and bends down so he's eye level with him. "He kissed me, you know."

Elijah's voice holds no emotions. "I know. But that doesn't mean it didn't happen."

Dom sits beside him once more, but this time he's closer. "How long 'til you forgive me?" Dom's voice is hushed, and filled with hope.

Elijah can feel Dom's breath on his neck, and it makes him want to turn his head just slightly and capture Dom's lips with his; it makes him want to say 'I've already forgiven you' but he can't. He can't do either of those things.

Instead, he takes a breath and then slowly lets it out. When he speaks, his voice is quiet and sincere, yet also holds a hint of sadness. "Not long."

Dom releases a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and slowly slips his arm around Elijah's shoulders; Elijah is thankful for the warmth because suddenly it's too cold outside.

They sit there in silence for a long time. Neither is aware of the party thinning out behind them, or of the sun rising way off in the distance, or of the sounds of birds as they wake up and fly all around them.

They're only aware of each other, and their own breathing. And that's all that matters at that moment.

Just them. Just together.

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