Book 4, Chapter 4: Illuminating What Is True (1/2)
Title: Illuminating What Is True (1/2)
Authors: kiltsandlollies and escribo
Characters: Billy/Dominic
Word count: 4650
Summary: Finding some light in the dark.
Index
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction; the recognizable people in the story belong to themselves and have never performed the actions portrayed here. I do not know the actors nor am I associated with them in any way. If you are underage, please do not read this story. I am not making any profit from these stories, nor do I mean any harm.
Billy can't deny the feeling of panic that rushes through him when he looks up from his classroom's desk and discovers that Dominic has not made it to his lecture. He swallows hard, smiles very tightly and begins speaking to those who have, moving smoothly from a review of the last session--during which several students had engaged in a lively discussion on supervenience that left Billy thrilled and surprised--to what will be the focus of the seminar for the next two weeks: contemporary thought on free will. Billy is only a few moments into his little speech when Dominic tumbles into the classroom, but he works hard not to react, and to keep talking even as Dominic finds his way to the back of the classroom, looking mortified and exhausted.
"Theory tells us that our conception of free will is rooted more than we can fully understand in our history and in terror. So let's think about fear for a moment. Those who have lived under oppression--and under that umbrella I would fit more than just governmental or military oppression, of course--are more likely to fight for, and yet fear, their own free will. Consider Bulgaria: when offered the chance to adopt a democratic society, the citizens of Bulgaria chose instead to remain under a form of Communism, fearing their lives would be no better with change. Their choice was therefore to remove choice ... their free will decision was not to decide. But is that indeed free will? Does fear control the will more than any other emotion? Are we incapable of clearing such an obstacle? Or does our fear save us from ourselves?" Billy pauses for a moment, leaning back against his desk, directing his words to a young woman in the third row, prompting her silently to consider her answer to the questions everyone in the room knows are coming. "Can fear make our decisions the right ones? Is fear itself truly the only thing we have to fear?"
The student's response is impassioned enough to set Billy's class on its way into another discussion. For the most part Billy has little to do but intervene when things become too heated. It's one of the many reasons Billy loves his seminar students, and today it's especially necessary, because while the class is occupied in discussion, Billy can take the occasional glance at Dominic, slumped in his chair. Barely thirty seconds pass between the end of the lecture and Dominic's departure from the classroom, and again Billy makes the concerted effort not to react. There is little he can do in any case; he has appointments for the next hour and a half. Dominic will need to calm himself and makes his way back to Billy's home later, accepting the invitation Billy had extended earlier in the week.
It had been a risk, Billy thinks, to send Dominic back to his room for the week instead of holding him even as a willing hostage inside Billy’s house. Among the many things Dominic is to Billy, he is first a student, and he belonged among his fellow students again, becoming comfortable with them and earning back the easy smiles and trust once placed in him. It might take some time, but it needs to happen, and Dominic knows this; he hadn’t argued against Billy’s decision, especially after Billy had made it clear that Dominic could and should be in touch with him anytime he felt the need to be so, provided it wouldn’t make their lives more difficult. Difficult’s relative, Billy had said upon seeing Dominic’s slight frown. You understand what I mean.
And Dominic had understood. Midway through the week he’d stepped into Billy’s office for an advising session that had somehow, miraculously, only devolved momentarily into something it probably shouldn’t have, and after the hour had passed, Billy had seen focus returning to Dominic’s eyes, felt it returning to his mind, too. Billy’s since pushed away any thought that it might have been a façade; for once he would like to feel optimistic, and Dominic’s made it easy for him to do so before, so why not now, when it’s possibly even more important?
Time drags a little through the rest of the afternoon, and Billy finds himself just beginning to fume in traffic a few minutes from his house. It’s not as if he hasn’t spent enough time there alone this week; rather, he’s made an effort unlike any he’d tried since the beginning of the last term to stay at his desk at home and conquer the piles of papers there, marking essays, reading through and leaving notes on a friend’s research, and on occasion throwing a bit of himself at his own work, mostly stalled since the short confrontation he’d had with Noble. Billy shouldn’t feel in such a hurry to return to all that mess, but he does, and the fact that if tonight goes as planned, he won’t be alone in the little house, goes a long way toward making him almost look forward to it. More than almost, if Billy’s honest, which he’s trying to be now, for better or worse, with himself as much as Dominic and anyone else unlucky enough to ask after him.
Once the traffic clears, Billy makes the turn into his neighborhood and takes several more deep breaths before making his way to his door. A moment’s pause in the front hall to listen for signs of life confirms that Billy’s still alone for now, and he takes the opportunity to throw more work on his desk, the mail to the table in front of the couch, and his jacket to the chair. He’s too restless to do much else, unable to start anything until he’s more certain of how the evening might finish, and he’s aided in that finally when he hears the knock at the back door, loud at first and then tapering off as if Dominic’s startled himself with the sound.
Billy’s not bothered to hide the slight relief on his face as he opens the door, and Dominic mirrors it, sliding into Billy’s arms for the briefest of kisses and a low, tired breath before Dominic pitches his bag toward one of the kitchen chairs.
"I need to change,” he tells Billy, already pulling at his t-shirt. “Do you mind if I use your washer? Dropped a cup of coffee on myself," he says by way of explanation, and Billy shakes his head.
"Leave it for tomorrow, Dom," he says, and Dominic nods, relief again on his face at the invitation to stay the night and beyond. Billy follows Dominic down the hall to the bedroom as Dominic shucks the shirt entirely, leaving the back of his short hair sticking up wildly. "Is that why you were late this morning? The coffee?"
"Yeah.” Dominic smirks and balls up the shirt in his hands before throwing it into the pile of laundry Billy’s abandoned on one side of the dresser. “I feel like I’ve been slightly sticky all day, like. Not ideal.”
"I wouldn’t think so, no.” Billy leans against the dresser and crosses his arms over his chest rather than reach for Dominic, though his eyes travel up and down Dominic’s body, looking for things he knows he’s already seen several times now and hoping to see better, not worse. “Did you not have time to go back to your room?"
"I did. I just didn't have anything cleaner."
"That would explain the other day, then.”
Dominic throws Billy a faint smile that Billy returns, both of them remembering Billy’s reaction to Dominic’s sharp-dressed appearance at that advising session, and the temptation he’d presented, one Billy had succumbed to happily, tugging at one of his own ties around Dominic’s neck and bringing Dominic into a kiss that had progressed quickly into something more and nearly obliterated any chance they had at actually accomplishing anything academic. They’d both come back to earth and gotten down to business eventually, but it had served well as a preview of what they’d have again in a safer place, at a much safer time.
"Turns out I'd been more thorough in my attempt to run away than I had thought,” Dominic says now, finding Billy’s stack of clean clothes on top of the dresser and running his fingers comfortably down it. “Most of my clothes and some of my books were in that bag I lost."
"Is there anyplace else it could be besides your room?"
Dominic doesn't answer at first, his focus on digging through the clothes and pulling out an old t-shirt he then tosses onto the bed. The only word still legible on the thing reads garden, and Billy tries to remember when he'd purchased it or why he keeps it as he watches Dominic shuck his jeans, one leg of the denim stained with coffee. "Elijah's," Dominic finally says, and Billy's grateful Dominic doesn't see his flinch.
"Have you asked him for it?"
"He's probably thrown it out by now, if he had it at all. I really can't remember. I've tried to." Dominic stops what he's doing, one leg in the jeans, one leg out, his body slightly turned from Billy and bent over, looking as though he's trying to work something out. Billy waits him out and watches then as Dominic comes back to himself, finishes undressing and stands up, folding his jeans before he realizes what he's doing and throws them instead in the direction of Billy's dirty clothes. "I'm trying to stay away from him. I haven't asked."
Billy regrets bringing it up, as he flickers with irritation just at the sound of Elijah's name now, in great measure because of what part Elijah’s played in what’s happened to Dominic but also in some small way because of how Elijah’s gotten to Billy himself on a few different levels, none of them easy to ignore.
“I don’t know that I’d call what I saw outside my classroom on Monday trying to stay away, Dom,” he says quietly, tilting his head when Dominic turns sharply toward him. “Hear me out. I’m not calling you a liar, and I’m not saying you weren’t provoked. Has there been anything else?” Dominic’s silent, and Billy takes a step forward, lowering his voice. “Dominic.”
“No.” Dominic shakes his head, then takes a deep breath. “Yes. Nothing I can’t deal with, Billy. I can’t concentrate on that, like. I’ve just got to get through it.”
They’re both silent for a moment, Dominic’s expression pleading with Billy to not argue this, and finally Billy nods. “Alright. For now. Do you have the books you need?"
"Most of them,” Dominic says, his shoulders dropping a little. “There are two books of German translations that I'll have to replace. I need to order them, though, because they don't have them in the bookstore. I was going to check with Herr Oberstaff."
"Harry'll have them. I'm not sure there's anything he hasn't got or can't get." Billy attempts a smile. "As long as it's not something I want, it seems to exist."
Dominic laughs and reaches for the tracksuit pants he wears nearly like a uniform inside Billy’s house, tugging on the drawstring. “Someone’s got to make your life difficult when I can’t, yeah?”
“He’s been at it longer than you have, but I know which of you I’d choose,” Billy sighs, handing Dominic the t-shirt he’d chosen. “We should get you some new shirts this weekend.”
Dominic shakes his head and pulls on the shirt, hiding the sudden flush in his cheeks. "I just need to do some laundry. Or make do with yours. You said I looked better in them than you ever did--"
"It's the truth," Billy laughs. "But you can't live off my things, can you? I’d be surprised if some of my clothes weren’t older than you."
“I wouldn’t know,” Dominic smiles over his shoulder again. “I’ve got no clue how old you are, Billy. I don’t-have to. Doesn’t matter, does it?”
It’s a small challenge Billy recognizes in the question, and for a moment he’s still, and then he shakes his head. “It doesn’t. Come here.”
Dominic steps back within Billy’s reach willingly, and Billy’s hands move from Dominic’s waist to his chest, over his shoulders and into his hair. He gently turns Dominic's face, inspecting the healing cut and the bruise that's faded to browns, satisfied for the moment that it looks better. Dominic’s eyes close and he nudges his cheek against Billy’s arm, warm skin against cooler.
“It’s a bit mad, isn’t it,” Billy murmurs. “We both look like hell, but still better than this time last week, I think.”
Dominic’s smile collapses into a yawn. "I'm just tired. Longest seven days of my life, maybe. It felt like."
“More reason to be grateful it’s over, then. Are you hungry, Dom?”
Dominic nods. "Did you want me to make you something?"
"No." Billy shakes his head, his mouth pressed into a thin line. "I mean, yeah, if you wanted to, but it's not necessary; I'm sure there's something I can conjure in there. You're exhausted. Maybe we'll just order in?" Billy can hear the slight powerlessness in his own voice, and he shakes his head again, determined to make a better effort as he reaches to cup Dominic's face in his hands, searching his eyes. "We'll call it a reward. You made it, Dom. You got through the week."
"It felt like I was walking through water all day today, though. But I made it to everything. I promised you, Billy."
"You didn't do it for me."
Dominic shakes his head. "I still promised. For both of us, okay. I missed you. This. And I wanted to earn it again--”
“Dom,” Billy starts, a scold underneath the care in his voice, and Dominic frowns.
“I just did, Billy. I missed you.”
"Likewise, in case you're wondering," Billy says quietly. "And however strange this feels now, here, it’s the easy part. I won't pretend the rest of it won’t be worse, Dom, mentally or physically. You have a lot to catch up on, and you absolutely must make up your papers in the classes you've missed. I can help you, of course, but you ..." A part of Billy would surrender easily to this feeling of immediate peace, but while he has Dominic as a sweetly captive audience, he knows a less pleasant point must be pressed. "You must want it again, Dom, like I told you in my office. You have to want everything else at least as must as you want this. Because these next few months will mean everything to the next few years, d'you understand? And I'll fight as hard as you to make it turn out right." Billy nods shortly, unwilling to hear his own voice pushing any further. "You'll be up for discussion next class, Dom, so if you want to promise me something, make it that you'll do the readings in time."
"I will."
"Do you have the texts?"
Dominic nods. "In my bag. I brought them with me.”
Billy’s hands slide easily down Dominic's sides, and Billy registers again the weight and strength Dominic’s lost, but he says nothing, instead leaning in to kiss Dominic again before he backs off, rubbing his hands together as if he’s dusting the rest of his own nerves from his skin.
"Dinner," Billy says firmly before he strips off his tie and loosens his shirtcuffs. "A good one, too. Thai. Or Indian. Maybe get your books open, Dom, and put some music on if you've got the energy. I'll call something in and join you in the kitchen in a minute. We can--" Billy pushes one hand through his hair, smiling when Dominic raises his eyebrows, waiting. "Get a head start, while we wait. I've got some essays that I need to look over. I've no idea why I assign so many."
"Me either." Dominic’s answer is honest and quickly returned, and they both laugh for a moment before Billy nods again.
“It’s revenge, I think. I can’t remember putting down a pen for more than a few hours at a time when I was your age; why should you get off easy. Go on, Dom,” Billy sighs. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
Billy can tell without looking behind him that Dominic’s hesitating, still nervous to be anywhere in Billy’s home without Billy’s presence nearby. They haven’t talked about it--or many other things--but they’re both aware of it, and the only way Billy can think to resolve the issue is to force it. Once he’s certain Dominic’s left the room, Billy starts to change his clothes but allows himself to be distracted, flexing his fingers at his sides while he resists the urge to palm the pockets of Dominic’s discarded jeans. He’s made no promises not to do any such thing, but it seems a breach of trust that weighs heavier than the larger obligation to make sure Dominic’s not hiding anything more from him. Ugly experience told Billy some time ago that begging forgiveness after the fact rarely turns our better than asking permission first, but it’s still hard for him to turn away from the laundry and out of the room itself, still in his trousers and shirtsleeves as if that’s what he’d meant to do all along.
Dominic’s got music playing, the sound soft and orchestral, and Billy recognizes it as something he’d listened to as he’d graded papers the previous night and only every so often leaned back in his chair and conducted his imaginary orchestra of pens and letter openers. It’ll be a while before the CD changes to the next in the carousel, and Billy considers idly what Dominic will make of the abrupt shift from Delius to Dark Side of the Moon. Over the sound of the music and from his perch in the middle of the room Billy can hear Dominic getting comfortable in the kitchen, and he suddenly remembers his own directive, reaching for the phone and making his case for a rush on delivery of their dinner. On the other end of the line a familiar voice laughs at Billy’s eagerness and confirms that it won’t be long before the good professor has a little of everything he can remember on the menu, and the clerk’s amusement makes Billy smile, too, an expression that remains on his face as he rings off and piano-walks his fingers along the windowsill near his desk to the tune of slow joy on the CD. He’d done nothing of the sort last night to the accompaniment of this same music, and the difference slightly unnerves Billy, but he’s happy to again call it a result of Dominic’s presence here, calming in its way as Billy’s seems to be for Dominic, too. Billy wonders how Dominic has spent the past few evenings other than in study or sleep, if it’s true that he’s tried to avoid Elijah but for the one incident in the hall outside Billy’s classroom. Those thoughts vanish Billy’s smile, and in turn he vanishes them; they have their place, but it’s not now, not here.
Billy gathers a handful of his own work from the desk and finds Dominic in the kitchen, stretched out in one of the chairs with his bare feet propped on the other. The table’s littered just to its halfway mark with Dominic’s classwork, and Billy hides his smile at the sight, feeling Dominic’s eyes on his back as he moves around the small kitchen quietly, rummaging through his cabinets and getting them both something to drink. Billy recognizes tonight for what it has been thus far: a shaky, albeit goodhearted attempt to put things back to rights. He and Dominic are meant to be completely comfortable in Billy's house at the end of a long day, and today’s been the longest Dominic's had to face in a great while. With that in mind, Billy deposits two water bottles on the table and then moves silently behind Dominic, resting his palms on Dominic's shoulders and kneading the muscles there gently. He doesn't particularly want to disturb Dominic, but it's hard to not touch him now; he feels like he’s making up for lost time.
"What's this, Dom?" he asks, focusing on both the long German phrases in Dominic's book and the streaks of blond running through Dominic's short hair. "Anything interesting? Poetry?"
"Just a history of German epic poetry and the Hildebrandslied. Translation work." Dominic taps his pen in the margin, his eyes on his book though his thoughts seem elsewhere. Billy waits him out silently until Dominic looks up and out the window that overlooks the small ramshackle garden. Billy's eyes follow Dominic’s, and he sees the image of them reflected back in the darkened window.
"My German professor is letting me make up all the work I've missed in return for promising not to miss another class for the balance of the year," Dominic says quietly, returning his attention to his paper to write a few more words in his notebook before he puts down his pen and leans back in his chair to rest his head against Billy's stomach. "She kept patting my hand and telling me I'm too thin. I was afraid that she was going to take me home and force a pie down me."
"Not the worst fate in the world, that."
"No. I hate that look though. Like they're afraid I have some terrible disease, and then I have to admit it was just because I'm an idiot."
Billy laughs, but his grip on Dominic’s shoulders tightens. "Don't say that."
"It's true, though, isn't it. I missed you, Billy, and it felt like a kind of madness, right, but I'm supposed to be an adult. I didn't have to--" Dominic doesn't finish his thought but Billy can, his mind helpfully settling on get involved with Elijah in Dominic's silence. Billy nods, his hand moving through Dominic's hair, measuring the strands with his fingers.
"I’d like to tell your professor that I mean to take care of you. Better than I did. I don't suppose it'd be taken in the spirit I mean it, though."
"No. Probably not. I wish I'd finished this translation this afternoon. I was just really tired, I guess. I ended up having a kip in my room."
Billy nods, not surprised. "You must have needed it."
"Maybe. It wasn’t enough, though. I think I could sleep for days, like.”
"Not days. I’m open to letting you have a bit of lie-in this weekend. You can stay here, get some rest. Lean over, Dom; go on."
Billy presses Dominic forward, until Dominic can rest his head on crossed forearms at the table. After pushing Dominic's books to the side, Billy works his hands down Dominic's shoulders and back, curling his fingers hard where there are deep knots of tension in Dominic's muscles, and flattening his palms to stroke carefully over the rest of Dominic's skin. "It will get better," he murmurs, not certain if Dominic can even hear him. "I promise, Dom, it will. You can come here whenever you need to, come to me whenever you need to."
Other thoughts come to Billy, most of them returning to how Dominic feels under his hands, good and bad. He focuses not on them but on the stack of work Dominic has waiting for him. "German history is fascinating," Billy muses aloud. "The more so in German, I imagine. Think of that fear, Dom. Like we were talking about in class. You could write hundreds--thousands--of books on how aspects of European history and culture has been touched by fear, but German history has perhaps more to teach us than that of some other countries. You might be learning something there you can carry over to other classes. I wish I could understand it. I wish I were your age again, and had the chance to study something besides the fucking Classics. What good have they ever done me." Billy smiles and shifts his attention to Dominic’s neck, massaging the muscles there as Dominic’s breathing evens out and slows. "Are you falling asleep, Dom?"
Dominic nods and smiles. "No caffeine since I managed to drop my coffee. I couldn't afford--” He pauses, and Billy’s hands stop moving as well. "I didn't have time to go back for more."
"It’s very hard, isn’t it,” Billy murmurs. “I can help you, Dom--”
"’m alright; I’ll figure something out--”
"Of course you will. Until you do--”
"Billy,” Dominic sighs, and sits up, scrubbing his hands over his face. “Look, my mum will send me some money if I ask her to, but I hate to ask, yeah? I need to work for it."
Billy’s jaw clenches, and he comes around to Dominic’s side, crouching there as he suddenly and quite vividly remembers doing ages ago, the night Dominic had first confessed anything to him here in this kitchen. "I don't know if you should, Dom,” he says carefully. “Not yet. I’m willing to be convinced otherwise, but. What is it you were thinking of doing?”
"I don't know. I've tended bar and worked down at the athletic fields. There's the modeling, too."
Billy takes a deep breath, registering the pros and cons of each option. “Anything else?”
"Nothing that I can do and study at the same time. Actually,” Dominic starts and then stops again, drumming his fingers on the table as Billy watches him decide how best to word what he wants to say. “Gian had emailed me. Do you remember him?"
“I’m not sure I could possibly forget.” Billy regrets the tone of his voice as soon as the words leave him, and he tilts his head in apology Dominic doesn’t see, still concentrating on the table.
"It wouldn’t be like that, he said. Not nudes. Just body work. Stand in work. He does portraits for commission sometimes for people who don't have time to pose, he says. It's easier if someone sits in, he says." Dominic shrugs. "He'd pay well and it wouldn't be, I don't know, taxing, like."
Billy nods, his jaw still tight. “You have to do what you think is right, Dom--"
"I won't do it if it bothers you--"
“And walk away when and if it feels wrong, I told you that before.” Billy swallows. “I mean it now, too.”
Dominic goes silent again, and Billy takes the bottles of water neither have touched and replaces them for two bottles of beer instead, leaving them on the counter before he begins looking through his the messy drawers beside the sink for the bottle opener. "Let me at least replace the books you need, Dom. You can borrow what else you need from me until you get paid, whatever you decide to do.”
It's not permission, which Billy doesn't feel is in his jurisdiction to give now any more than it was before, but Dominic doesn’t respond either way until Billy turns back around to see him dragging his fingers through the condensation left on the table from the water. When he realizes Billy is looking at him, waiting for an answer, Dominic nods.
"I don't want you to think that's what I'm here for, Billy."
"And I don’t.” Billy holds their stare for a moment, then goes back to searching through the drawers. “I’m not going to lie to you, Dom; I’ve been where you feel you are. Not for the same reasons. Not all of them. But I have.”
Dominic coughs, the sound wet and thick, suppressed hard. “I wish you hadn’t.”
“If wishes were horses, this beggar’d have a fucking cavalry, Dom.”
To be continued.
Authors: kiltsandlollies and escribo
Characters: Billy/Dominic
Word count: 4650
Summary: Finding some light in the dark.
Index
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction; the recognizable people in the story belong to themselves and have never performed the actions portrayed here. I do not know the actors nor am I associated with them in any way. If you are underage, please do not read this story. I am not making any profit from these stories, nor do I mean any harm.
Billy can't deny the feeling of panic that rushes through him when he looks up from his classroom's desk and discovers that Dominic has not made it to his lecture. He swallows hard, smiles very tightly and begins speaking to those who have, moving smoothly from a review of the last session--during which several students had engaged in a lively discussion on supervenience that left Billy thrilled and surprised--to what will be the focus of the seminar for the next two weeks: contemporary thought on free will. Billy is only a few moments into his little speech when Dominic tumbles into the classroom, but he works hard not to react, and to keep talking even as Dominic finds his way to the back of the classroom, looking mortified and exhausted.
"Theory tells us that our conception of free will is rooted more than we can fully understand in our history and in terror. So let's think about fear for a moment. Those who have lived under oppression--and under that umbrella I would fit more than just governmental or military oppression, of course--are more likely to fight for, and yet fear, their own free will. Consider Bulgaria: when offered the chance to adopt a democratic society, the citizens of Bulgaria chose instead to remain under a form of Communism, fearing their lives would be no better with change. Their choice was therefore to remove choice ... their free will decision was not to decide. But is that indeed free will? Does fear control the will more than any other emotion? Are we incapable of clearing such an obstacle? Or does our fear save us from ourselves?" Billy pauses for a moment, leaning back against his desk, directing his words to a young woman in the third row, prompting her silently to consider her answer to the questions everyone in the room knows are coming. "Can fear make our decisions the right ones? Is fear itself truly the only thing we have to fear?"
The student's response is impassioned enough to set Billy's class on its way into another discussion. For the most part Billy has little to do but intervene when things become too heated. It's one of the many reasons Billy loves his seminar students, and today it's especially necessary, because while the class is occupied in discussion, Billy can take the occasional glance at Dominic, slumped in his chair. Barely thirty seconds pass between the end of the lecture and Dominic's departure from the classroom, and again Billy makes the concerted effort not to react. There is little he can do in any case; he has appointments for the next hour and a half. Dominic will need to calm himself and makes his way back to Billy's home later, accepting the invitation Billy had extended earlier in the week.
It had been a risk, Billy thinks, to send Dominic back to his room for the week instead of holding him even as a willing hostage inside Billy’s house. Among the many things Dominic is to Billy, he is first a student, and he belonged among his fellow students again, becoming comfortable with them and earning back the easy smiles and trust once placed in him. It might take some time, but it needs to happen, and Dominic knows this; he hadn’t argued against Billy’s decision, especially after Billy had made it clear that Dominic could and should be in touch with him anytime he felt the need to be so, provided it wouldn’t make their lives more difficult. Difficult’s relative, Billy had said upon seeing Dominic’s slight frown. You understand what I mean.
And Dominic had understood. Midway through the week he’d stepped into Billy’s office for an advising session that had somehow, miraculously, only devolved momentarily into something it probably shouldn’t have, and after the hour had passed, Billy had seen focus returning to Dominic’s eyes, felt it returning to his mind, too. Billy’s since pushed away any thought that it might have been a façade; for once he would like to feel optimistic, and Dominic’s made it easy for him to do so before, so why not now, when it’s possibly even more important?
Time drags a little through the rest of the afternoon, and Billy finds himself just beginning to fume in traffic a few minutes from his house. It’s not as if he hasn’t spent enough time there alone this week; rather, he’s made an effort unlike any he’d tried since the beginning of the last term to stay at his desk at home and conquer the piles of papers there, marking essays, reading through and leaving notes on a friend’s research, and on occasion throwing a bit of himself at his own work, mostly stalled since the short confrontation he’d had with Noble. Billy shouldn’t feel in such a hurry to return to all that mess, but he does, and the fact that if tonight goes as planned, he won’t be alone in the little house, goes a long way toward making him almost look forward to it. More than almost, if Billy’s honest, which he’s trying to be now, for better or worse, with himself as much as Dominic and anyone else unlucky enough to ask after him.
Once the traffic clears, Billy makes the turn into his neighborhood and takes several more deep breaths before making his way to his door. A moment’s pause in the front hall to listen for signs of life confirms that Billy’s still alone for now, and he takes the opportunity to throw more work on his desk, the mail to the table in front of the couch, and his jacket to the chair. He’s too restless to do much else, unable to start anything until he’s more certain of how the evening might finish, and he’s aided in that finally when he hears the knock at the back door, loud at first and then tapering off as if Dominic’s startled himself with the sound.
Billy’s not bothered to hide the slight relief on his face as he opens the door, and Dominic mirrors it, sliding into Billy’s arms for the briefest of kisses and a low, tired breath before Dominic pitches his bag toward one of the kitchen chairs.
"I need to change,” he tells Billy, already pulling at his t-shirt. “Do you mind if I use your washer? Dropped a cup of coffee on myself," he says by way of explanation, and Billy shakes his head.
"Leave it for tomorrow, Dom," he says, and Dominic nods, relief again on his face at the invitation to stay the night and beyond. Billy follows Dominic down the hall to the bedroom as Dominic shucks the shirt entirely, leaving the back of his short hair sticking up wildly. "Is that why you were late this morning? The coffee?"
"Yeah.” Dominic smirks and balls up the shirt in his hands before throwing it into the pile of laundry Billy’s abandoned on one side of the dresser. “I feel like I’ve been slightly sticky all day, like. Not ideal.”
"I wouldn’t think so, no.” Billy leans against the dresser and crosses his arms over his chest rather than reach for Dominic, though his eyes travel up and down Dominic’s body, looking for things he knows he’s already seen several times now and hoping to see better, not worse. “Did you not have time to go back to your room?"
"I did. I just didn't have anything cleaner."
"That would explain the other day, then.”
Dominic throws Billy a faint smile that Billy returns, both of them remembering Billy’s reaction to Dominic’s sharp-dressed appearance at that advising session, and the temptation he’d presented, one Billy had succumbed to happily, tugging at one of his own ties around Dominic’s neck and bringing Dominic into a kiss that had progressed quickly into something more and nearly obliterated any chance they had at actually accomplishing anything academic. They’d both come back to earth and gotten down to business eventually, but it had served well as a preview of what they’d have again in a safer place, at a much safer time.
"Turns out I'd been more thorough in my attempt to run away than I had thought,” Dominic says now, finding Billy’s stack of clean clothes on top of the dresser and running his fingers comfortably down it. “Most of my clothes and some of my books were in that bag I lost."
"Is there anyplace else it could be besides your room?"
Dominic doesn't answer at first, his focus on digging through the clothes and pulling out an old t-shirt he then tosses onto the bed. The only word still legible on the thing reads garden, and Billy tries to remember when he'd purchased it or why he keeps it as he watches Dominic shuck his jeans, one leg of the denim stained with coffee. "Elijah's," Dominic finally says, and Billy's grateful Dominic doesn't see his flinch.
"Have you asked him for it?"
"He's probably thrown it out by now, if he had it at all. I really can't remember. I've tried to." Dominic stops what he's doing, one leg in the jeans, one leg out, his body slightly turned from Billy and bent over, looking as though he's trying to work something out. Billy waits him out and watches then as Dominic comes back to himself, finishes undressing and stands up, folding his jeans before he realizes what he's doing and throws them instead in the direction of Billy's dirty clothes. "I'm trying to stay away from him. I haven't asked."
Billy regrets bringing it up, as he flickers with irritation just at the sound of Elijah's name now, in great measure because of what part Elijah’s played in what’s happened to Dominic but also in some small way because of how Elijah’s gotten to Billy himself on a few different levels, none of them easy to ignore.
“I don’t know that I’d call what I saw outside my classroom on Monday trying to stay away, Dom,” he says quietly, tilting his head when Dominic turns sharply toward him. “Hear me out. I’m not calling you a liar, and I’m not saying you weren’t provoked. Has there been anything else?” Dominic’s silent, and Billy takes a step forward, lowering his voice. “Dominic.”
“No.” Dominic shakes his head, then takes a deep breath. “Yes. Nothing I can’t deal with, Billy. I can’t concentrate on that, like. I’ve just got to get through it.”
They’re both silent for a moment, Dominic’s expression pleading with Billy to not argue this, and finally Billy nods. “Alright. For now. Do you have the books you need?"
"Most of them,” Dominic says, his shoulders dropping a little. “There are two books of German translations that I'll have to replace. I need to order them, though, because they don't have them in the bookstore. I was going to check with Herr Oberstaff."
"Harry'll have them. I'm not sure there's anything he hasn't got or can't get." Billy attempts a smile. "As long as it's not something I want, it seems to exist."
Dominic laughs and reaches for the tracksuit pants he wears nearly like a uniform inside Billy’s house, tugging on the drawstring. “Someone’s got to make your life difficult when I can’t, yeah?”
“He’s been at it longer than you have, but I know which of you I’d choose,” Billy sighs, handing Dominic the t-shirt he’d chosen. “We should get you some new shirts this weekend.”
Dominic shakes his head and pulls on the shirt, hiding the sudden flush in his cheeks. "I just need to do some laundry. Or make do with yours. You said I looked better in them than you ever did--"
"It's the truth," Billy laughs. "But you can't live off my things, can you? I’d be surprised if some of my clothes weren’t older than you."
“I wouldn’t know,” Dominic smiles over his shoulder again. “I’ve got no clue how old you are, Billy. I don’t-have to. Doesn’t matter, does it?”
It’s a small challenge Billy recognizes in the question, and for a moment he’s still, and then he shakes his head. “It doesn’t. Come here.”
Dominic steps back within Billy’s reach willingly, and Billy’s hands move from Dominic’s waist to his chest, over his shoulders and into his hair. He gently turns Dominic's face, inspecting the healing cut and the bruise that's faded to browns, satisfied for the moment that it looks better. Dominic’s eyes close and he nudges his cheek against Billy’s arm, warm skin against cooler.
“It’s a bit mad, isn’t it,” Billy murmurs. “We both look like hell, but still better than this time last week, I think.”
Dominic’s smile collapses into a yawn. "I'm just tired. Longest seven days of my life, maybe. It felt like."
“More reason to be grateful it’s over, then. Are you hungry, Dom?”
Dominic nods. "Did you want me to make you something?"
"No." Billy shakes his head, his mouth pressed into a thin line. "I mean, yeah, if you wanted to, but it's not necessary; I'm sure there's something I can conjure in there. You're exhausted. Maybe we'll just order in?" Billy can hear the slight powerlessness in his own voice, and he shakes his head again, determined to make a better effort as he reaches to cup Dominic's face in his hands, searching his eyes. "We'll call it a reward. You made it, Dom. You got through the week."
"It felt like I was walking through water all day today, though. But I made it to everything. I promised you, Billy."
"You didn't do it for me."
Dominic shakes his head. "I still promised. For both of us, okay. I missed you. This. And I wanted to earn it again--”
“Dom,” Billy starts, a scold underneath the care in his voice, and Dominic frowns.
“I just did, Billy. I missed you.”
"Likewise, in case you're wondering," Billy says quietly. "And however strange this feels now, here, it’s the easy part. I won't pretend the rest of it won’t be worse, Dom, mentally or physically. You have a lot to catch up on, and you absolutely must make up your papers in the classes you've missed. I can help you, of course, but you ..." A part of Billy would surrender easily to this feeling of immediate peace, but while he has Dominic as a sweetly captive audience, he knows a less pleasant point must be pressed. "You must want it again, Dom, like I told you in my office. You have to want everything else at least as must as you want this. Because these next few months will mean everything to the next few years, d'you understand? And I'll fight as hard as you to make it turn out right." Billy nods shortly, unwilling to hear his own voice pushing any further. "You'll be up for discussion next class, Dom, so if you want to promise me something, make it that you'll do the readings in time."
"I will."
"Do you have the texts?"
Dominic nods. "In my bag. I brought them with me.”
Billy’s hands slide easily down Dominic's sides, and Billy registers again the weight and strength Dominic’s lost, but he says nothing, instead leaning in to kiss Dominic again before he backs off, rubbing his hands together as if he’s dusting the rest of his own nerves from his skin.
"Dinner," Billy says firmly before he strips off his tie and loosens his shirtcuffs. "A good one, too. Thai. Or Indian. Maybe get your books open, Dom, and put some music on if you've got the energy. I'll call something in and join you in the kitchen in a minute. We can--" Billy pushes one hand through his hair, smiling when Dominic raises his eyebrows, waiting. "Get a head start, while we wait. I've got some essays that I need to look over. I've no idea why I assign so many."
"Me either." Dominic’s answer is honest and quickly returned, and they both laugh for a moment before Billy nods again.
“It’s revenge, I think. I can’t remember putting down a pen for more than a few hours at a time when I was your age; why should you get off easy. Go on, Dom,” Billy sighs. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
Billy can tell without looking behind him that Dominic’s hesitating, still nervous to be anywhere in Billy’s home without Billy’s presence nearby. They haven’t talked about it--or many other things--but they’re both aware of it, and the only way Billy can think to resolve the issue is to force it. Once he’s certain Dominic’s left the room, Billy starts to change his clothes but allows himself to be distracted, flexing his fingers at his sides while he resists the urge to palm the pockets of Dominic’s discarded jeans. He’s made no promises not to do any such thing, but it seems a breach of trust that weighs heavier than the larger obligation to make sure Dominic’s not hiding anything more from him. Ugly experience told Billy some time ago that begging forgiveness after the fact rarely turns our better than asking permission first, but it’s still hard for him to turn away from the laundry and out of the room itself, still in his trousers and shirtsleeves as if that’s what he’d meant to do all along.
Dominic’s got music playing, the sound soft and orchestral, and Billy recognizes it as something he’d listened to as he’d graded papers the previous night and only every so often leaned back in his chair and conducted his imaginary orchestra of pens and letter openers. It’ll be a while before the CD changes to the next in the carousel, and Billy considers idly what Dominic will make of the abrupt shift from Delius to Dark Side of the Moon. Over the sound of the music and from his perch in the middle of the room Billy can hear Dominic getting comfortable in the kitchen, and he suddenly remembers his own directive, reaching for the phone and making his case for a rush on delivery of their dinner. On the other end of the line a familiar voice laughs at Billy’s eagerness and confirms that it won’t be long before the good professor has a little of everything he can remember on the menu, and the clerk’s amusement makes Billy smile, too, an expression that remains on his face as he rings off and piano-walks his fingers along the windowsill near his desk to the tune of slow joy on the CD. He’d done nothing of the sort last night to the accompaniment of this same music, and the difference slightly unnerves Billy, but he’s happy to again call it a result of Dominic’s presence here, calming in its way as Billy’s seems to be for Dominic, too. Billy wonders how Dominic has spent the past few evenings other than in study or sleep, if it’s true that he’s tried to avoid Elijah but for the one incident in the hall outside Billy’s classroom. Those thoughts vanish Billy’s smile, and in turn he vanishes them; they have their place, but it’s not now, not here.
Billy gathers a handful of his own work from the desk and finds Dominic in the kitchen, stretched out in one of the chairs with his bare feet propped on the other. The table’s littered just to its halfway mark with Dominic’s classwork, and Billy hides his smile at the sight, feeling Dominic’s eyes on his back as he moves around the small kitchen quietly, rummaging through his cabinets and getting them both something to drink. Billy recognizes tonight for what it has been thus far: a shaky, albeit goodhearted attempt to put things back to rights. He and Dominic are meant to be completely comfortable in Billy's house at the end of a long day, and today’s been the longest Dominic's had to face in a great while. With that in mind, Billy deposits two water bottles on the table and then moves silently behind Dominic, resting his palms on Dominic's shoulders and kneading the muscles there gently. He doesn't particularly want to disturb Dominic, but it's hard to not touch him now; he feels like he’s making up for lost time.
"What's this, Dom?" he asks, focusing on both the long German phrases in Dominic's book and the streaks of blond running through Dominic's short hair. "Anything interesting? Poetry?"
"Just a history of German epic poetry and the Hildebrandslied. Translation work." Dominic taps his pen in the margin, his eyes on his book though his thoughts seem elsewhere. Billy waits him out silently until Dominic looks up and out the window that overlooks the small ramshackle garden. Billy's eyes follow Dominic’s, and he sees the image of them reflected back in the darkened window.
"My German professor is letting me make up all the work I've missed in return for promising not to miss another class for the balance of the year," Dominic says quietly, returning his attention to his paper to write a few more words in his notebook before he puts down his pen and leans back in his chair to rest his head against Billy's stomach. "She kept patting my hand and telling me I'm too thin. I was afraid that she was going to take me home and force a pie down me."
"Not the worst fate in the world, that."
"No. I hate that look though. Like they're afraid I have some terrible disease, and then I have to admit it was just because I'm an idiot."
Billy laughs, but his grip on Dominic’s shoulders tightens. "Don't say that."
"It's true, though, isn't it. I missed you, Billy, and it felt like a kind of madness, right, but I'm supposed to be an adult. I didn't have to--" Dominic doesn't finish his thought but Billy can, his mind helpfully settling on get involved with Elijah in Dominic's silence. Billy nods, his hand moving through Dominic's hair, measuring the strands with his fingers.
"I’d like to tell your professor that I mean to take care of you. Better than I did. I don't suppose it'd be taken in the spirit I mean it, though."
"No. Probably not. I wish I'd finished this translation this afternoon. I was just really tired, I guess. I ended up having a kip in my room."
Billy nods, not surprised. "You must have needed it."
"Maybe. It wasn’t enough, though. I think I could sleep for days, like.”
"Not days. I’m open to letting you have a bit of lie-in this weekend. You can stay here, get some rest. Lean over, Dom; go on."
Billy presses Dominic forward, until Dominic can rest his head on crossed forearms at the table. After pushing Dominic's books to the side, Billy works his hands down Dominic's shoulders and back, curling his fingers hard where there are deep knots of tension in Dominic's muscles, and flattening his palms to stroke carefully over the rest of Dominic's skin. "It will get better," he murmurs, not certain if Dominic can even hear him. "I promise, Dom, it will. You can come here whenever you need to, come to me whenever you need to."
Other thoughts come to Billy, most of them returning to how Dominic feels under his hands, good and bad. He focuses not on them but on the stack of work Dominic has waiting for him. "German history is fascinating," Billy muses aloud. "The more so in German, I imagine. Think of that fear, Dom. Like we were talking about in class. You could write hundreds--thousands--of books on how aspects of European history and culture has been touched by fear, but German history has perhaps more to teach us than that of some other countries. You might be learning something there you can carry over to other classes. I wish I could understand it. I wish I were your age again, and had the chance to study something besides the fucking Classics. What good have they ever done me." Billy smiles and shifts his attention to Dominic’s neck, massaging the muscles there as Dominic’s breathing evens out and slows. "Are you falling asleep, Dom?"
Dominic nods and smiles. "No caffeine since I managed to drop my coffee. I couldn't afford--” He pauses, and Billy’s hands stop moving as well. "I didn't have time to go back for more."
"It’s very hard, isn’t it,” Billy murmurs. “I can help you, Dom--”
"’m alright; I’ll figure something out--”
"Of course you will. Until you do--”
"Billy,” Dominic sighs, and sits up, scrubbing his hands over his face. “Look, my mum will send me some money if I ask her to, but I hate to ask, yeah? I need to work for it."
Billy’s jaw clenches, and he comes around to Dominic’s side, crouching there as he suddenly and quite vividly remembers doing ages ago, the night Dominic had first confessed anything to him here in this kitchen. "I don't know if you should, Dom,” he says carefully. “Not yet. I’m willing to be convinced otherwise, but. What is it you were thinking of doing?”
"I don't know. I've tended bar and worked down at the athletic fields. There's the modeling, too."
Billy takes a deep breath, registering the pros and cons of each option. “Anything else?”
"Nothing that I can do and study at the same time. Actually,” Dominic starts and then stops again, drumming his fingers on the table as Billy watches him decide how best to word what he wants to say. “Gian had emailed me. Do you remember him?"
“I’m not sure I could possibly forget.” Billy regrets the tone of his voice as soon as the words leave him, and he tilts his head in apology Dominic doesn’t see, still concentrating on the table.
"It wouldn’t be like that, he said. Not nudes. Just body work. Stand in work. He does portraits for commission sometimes for people who don't have time to pose, he says. It's easier if someone sits in, he says." Dominic shrugs. "He'd pay well and it wouldn't be, I don't know, taxing, like."
Billy nods, his jaw still tight. “You have to do what you think is right, Dom--"
"I won't do it if it bothers you--"
“And walk away when and if it feels wrong, I told you that before.” Billy swallows. “I mean it now, too.”
Dominic goes silent again, and Billy takes the bottles of water neither have touched and replaces them for two bottles of beer instead, leaving them on the counter before he begins looking through his the messy drawers beside the sink for the bottle opener. "Let me at least replace the books you need, Dom. You can borrow what else you need from me until you get paid, whatever you decide to do.”
It's not permission, which Billy doesn't feel is in his jurisdiction to give now any more than it was before, but Dominic doesn’t respond either way until Billy turns back around to see him dragging his fingers through the condensation left on the table from the water. When he realizes Billy is looking at him, waiting for an answer, Dominic nods.
"I don't want you to think that's what I'm here for, Billy."
"And I don’t.” Billy holds their stare for a moment, then goes back to searching through the drawers. “I’m not going to lie to you, Dom; I’ve been where you feel you are. Not for the same reasons. Not all of them. But I have.”
Dominic coughs, the sound wet and thick, suppressed hard. “I wish you hadn’t.”
“If wishes were horses, this beggar’d have a fucking cavalry, Dom.”
To be continued.