Book 4, Chapter 13: Truth for a Truth
Title: Truth for a Truth
Authors: kiltsandlollies and escribo
Characters: Orlando, Dominic
Word count: 3790
Summary: Listening between the lines.
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.
It's cold and raining tonight, and Dominic feels every pass of the wind and drop of that rain as he walks down one of too many Baskerville side streets and alleys, even bundled up in one of Billy's old sweaters and a thick scarf Billy's sister had knitted years ago for him. Dominic's looking for a club that he hadn't known existed until a few days ago, and he clutches a little slip of paper between his fingers as he jumps between puddles. The address on the paper is written in Orlando's loopy handwriting, 221 Baker Street, no, really, and Dominic works now to remember if Orlando had said the place was next to or across from the bakery on the corner. Another ten minutes, and Dominic finally finds the building he's looking for, just as the rain finally begins to let up.
The club is long and thin, the bar running down one side leading to the little stage at the far end. David's already started his set, and for a minute Dominic stands in the doorway and watches. Orlando is stretched out long in his chair, his eyes on David, and a small smile plays on his lips. He's looking at David the same way Dominic knows he looks at Billy sometimes, and Dominic finds that he can be genuinely happy for Orlando, and for himself, too, if he's honest.
Dominic stops at the bar to buy himself a pint of cider, digging into the pocket of his worn jeans for the coins to pay. He thanks the barman, leaving a tip in the jar, and makes his way to Orlando's table, sitting just far back enough that he doesn't interrupt the contact he can see now between David and Orlando; David's attention is fixed on Orlando, playing to him, singing for him. They could be the only people in the room, Dominic thinks, and it's then that he feels a short spike of jealousy. It lasts only as long as the end of David's current song, and Dominic's applauding before he knows it, the sound making Orlando turn in his chair and lean in with a smile and a short, tight embrace.
"Hey," Orlando laughs as he pulls away and resettles, his legs shooting out in front of his to cross at the ankles. "You came. I wasn't sure you'd make it."
"I figured it was time to finally hear David play."
Orlando's eyes flit to the stage, where David's leaning over, tuning a new guitar until he feels the weight of Orlando's stare on him. He looks up, and the smile he and Orlando share makes Dominic grin, too, as if he can feel the warmth of it, too.
"You picked a good night," Orlando sighs when David goes back to his work. "Two more shows, and then he's down to the coast for a week. Some people just need to hear the water, yeah?"
Dominic nods. "Are you going with?"
"I've got too much work to do. I might catch a train down at the weekend."
"It'd be good for you, too." When Orlando looks up, Dominic laughs. "You're looking a bit. You know. I mean, if anybody's going to recognize it, it's me--"
"Yeah." Orlando taps his fingers in a slow dance on the table, but he's still smiling. "I like it, though. I'd rather be tired and working than bored or just--getting through, like. Not that you are," he says quickly, looking up again to make sure he's understood, and Dominic feels a little colour rushing to his cheeks but can't exactly call Orlando out on what he's saying or not saying here; they both know what he means. Orlando swallows and shrugs, his smile going warmer as he turns completely to face Dominic. "The work's good, though. I don't--I haven't told you, have I? I'm in with that gallery in London. For the summer. They've got a place for me, so it's like everything's off and running, but I feel like I can't stop working just because of that."
"That's--great," Dominic says, and means it. "No, it's brilliant. That's what you wanted, yeah? And you got it. You must've killed that interview panel."
Orlando's blush is a sweet one, and he peers down at the table and his drink rather than answer at first, his fingers moving around the rim of his glass. "I'm probably going to end up sweeping the floors after closing, but I don't care. Every little bit helps. And I'll have access to the libraries, and I can sketch after hours. Listen, I--" Orlando pauses and his mouth works for a moment before he looks back up at Dominic. "I used that drawing of your hands in my portfolio. I didn't ask before, and I know--I knew it was sort of dodgy, but it was some of my best work, I thought, and I asked Ms. O, and she agreed, so--"
"It's alright," Dominic tells him. "That's not what got you in, Orli. And whatever works, yeah? It's your sketch. Could have been anybody's hands."
Orlando shakes his head wildly. "Don't think that. And I would have asked, but you haven't been around much, and it wasn't ever the right time--I mean, I didn't want to just grab you after class and throw it out there."
"You could have." When Orlando frowns, Dominic laughs, tilting his head to make sure he's the one understood now and surprised by his own certainty when he speaks. "I don't sit for anything or anyone I don't want, yeah? And it was a fantastic drawing. I saw what you'd finished before we-" Dominic stops himself and takes a long, deep breath. "I don't mind, and you didn't have to ask."
After a moment, Orlando nods and Dominic does too, happy he doesn't have to accept an apology he doesn't want to hear. David's ready now for his next song, and Orlando shifts so he can see the stage and Dominic, too, throwing Dominic a more comfortable smile before he sits back and listens. It takes hardly any time for Dominic to let himself fall into the slow rhythm of David's voice and guitar, and while he's always loved words more than music, the combination of them here and now eases Dominic; his muscles relax and his eyes close a little, allowing him to remember what it's like to be out with a friend and not have to think hard on how the evening will end or why. A small part of him would climb the bar for a proper pint, but that would make things too easy and too hard at once; the bigger part of him knows he doesn't need that or anything else more than he does just companionship--friendship, with all its safe layers.
Two more songs later, Dominic's ready for something more to drink, though, and Orlando plants his hands on the table and tells Dominic to stay where he is; the round's on him. Dominic panics a little until Orlando returns with another cider and a wide smile.
"So what've you got going for the summer?" he asks Dominic as David takes a short break and accepts a drink, too, from one of the girls working the club floor. Dominic blinks, and Orlando tries again. "Were you going to work or just--have you got plans, after all this? After we walk."
Dominic swallows and takes his turn to peer down into his drink. The only plans he's made have developed out of internal goals, not as ways or means toward his professional future. He's taken things day to day in that respect, writing and reading as he's supposed to be doing but evading real talk about what he should be doing after he's graduated. Billy's read him well, and more than once pointed out gently that he knew what Dominic was doing and that there wasn't much time left to play that particular game, but still Dominic had managed to stick with his decision not to decide; all he wants on several levels is to left in peace with Billy and face every tomorrow as it comes. That won't fly, with Billy or anyone else, and here, after having registered Orlando's enthusiasm for the life he'll lead this coming summer and beyond, Dominic feels like he's grasping for the explanation people will want to hear more than any truth he could tell himself or them.
"I've turned in some pieces to the journal here. Abeyonne." Dominic looks up to see if Orlando knows what he's talking about, and Orlando nods, his eyes bright and pleased. "If some of them get published, then I'll feel like I can submit them other places, too, and maybe I'll just. Be a writer. A poet." Dominic clenches his fingers into a fist on the table, looking for strength to put behind the words. "I can work anywhere while I do it. Not like I need to be in an office, yeah? I could do anything."
"Well," Orlando laughs. "Up to a point, yeah. But you could, you're right; I wish I could--I need this internship to get anywhere, but if I didn't, I'd be out there all day." Orlando throws a hand in the air, the unnamed out there some place warmer and brighter than Baskerville, Dominic hopes on his behalf, brighter and warmer than London, too. "I keep thinking I want to just make things, but you have to love and understand what happens to things after they're made, too, right? It's good to know how to take care of--"
"Someone else's art," Dominic murmurs, and takes a long drink when Orlando stares at him warmly.
"While you make your own. It'll come back to you, then. Someone else will know how to take care of yours. Of you." Orlando's eyes flit again to David, but David's in deep conversation with an older man and woman, the man entranced by David's guitar and the woman by David's voice, soft and gravelly, Dominic can hear even three tables away. Orlando turns back to Dominic and leans in a bit more, just brushing his shoulder against Dominic's.
"How are you, Dom? I mean really. I haven't seen you in a while, and it's like--I keep saying that, I keep having to say that, and I don't want to. We haven't talked except about class."
"I know. I'm sorry about that."
"It's not just your fault, is it. I did go to your rooms a few times, but you're--not really there much, are you?" He doesn't wait for an answer, and Dominic doesn't know that he could give him one in any case. "So what happened?"
Dominic takes another deep breath and lowers his voice. "We worked things out."
"What?" Orlando tilts his head, and realization crosses his faces, turning his eyes a bit darker and more narrowed for the briefest instant before he manages to push it away. "You and the professor. Dom--"
"Yeah." Dominic sits up in his chair and lifts his chin, not wanting a fight and not really prepared for one either, but looking the part's half the battle, he thinks. "Listen, I'm happy, Orlando. It's better now."
"There was only one way to go, Dom," Orlando says, a little hotly, and then he shakes his head. "I'm sorry. It's just--I'm the last person who's going to judge you, okay--"
"Except where you already have." Dominic can't force any malice into his words; he understands Orlando's confusion and concern and knows he might react the same way if the tables were turned, but he tells himself it doesn't matter even as he hears the sharp echo of Billy's concern, too: Everything matters.
"I don't mean to," Orlando's saying now. "I don't want to. You're happy."
"For maybe the first time, yeah." Orlando's expression makes his doubt more than clear, but Dominic pushes on, for once not feeling as if he's forcing himself to believe it, too. "I am. I promise I am. Things are good. Better."
"Enough that you're not even thinking past graduation," Orlando says quietly. "What happens--"
"Will happen." Dominic opens his hands, a little desperation in the gesture, but then he laughs. "Give me this, okay? Things are right. Trust me, okay, we both fucked up, and it's not like it's the easiest thing in the world, but it's right. It feels right, and in a few months nobody's going to care who we are, and in the meantime, I'd like to just-fucking breathe a little, okay. Without thinking I can't tell anyone, not even you." Dominic sits back in the chair and stares at the ceiling, letting the silence between him and Orlando settle them both before he speaks again. "Things are right, Orli. You're happy, yeah? And you don't question it. I want that, too. I get to have that, too."
"Is that where you've been?" Orlando says, curiosity more than the fear of before in his voice. "With him."
Dominic nods and relaxes again, meeting Orlando's eyes. "He asked me to stay. I'm not--always there, but yeah. I live--I'm living with him. And good fucking thing, too, because he'd burn the place down if I weren't."
Orlando laughs despite himself, nodding some more. "Yeah, okay, I believe that."
"Believe all of it." Dominic leans down and lowers his voice to a near whisper. "Everything's how it's supposed to be. I'm not just sleeping with him, okay? It's--real, like. It's good. And when summer gets here, I'll be even better, and I'll just ... make my way, like. With him. He asked me to stay."
"Are you writing, Dom? More than what you sent to the journal."
"More than I was before." Orlando shakes his head; the answer's not enough, and Dominic nods in acknowledgment. "I am. It's just different. Are you drawing? More than what you put in the portfolio?"
Orlando breaks, then, and sighs. "Okay. Yeah. Less than I was before."
"But it's better, isn't it. Because, and let me posit this, okay," Dominic laughs. "Because you're happy?"
"Just tell me there's more to it than--" Orlando huffs, but his smile remains. "You're enough on your own, Dom. You know that, yeah?"
"Yeah." A flash of colour from the stage catches Dominic's eye, and he turns to see David take from his otherwise muted selection of guitars a red Stratocaster, brilliant and bright. Dominic exhales on a whistle of appreciation and looks back at Orlando biting his lips slightly as if some switch inside's been thrown. "So are you," Dominic says quietly, and Orlando nods.
The guitar sounds as beautiful as it looks, and Dominic watches first David's playing and then Orlando's reaction to it, the care Orlando's taking with this particular someone else's art. There's a strong connection here Dominic can see and feel without having even shaken David's hand or spoken to him, and Dominic wonders now whether what he himself has with Billy is or could be as visible to anyone else. He'd like to think so, and as David winds down the end of his next song, Dominic promises himself that as soon as it's safe to do so, he'll find a way to show Billy the same public attention he loves to in private.
For the next twenty minutes or so, Dominic frees his mind of all of that, though, and enjoys the music again for what it is, and Orlando's company for even more. Dominic catches him in mid-sketch on a napkin and watches in pleasure and awe as the Stratocaster comes to a different kind of life on the paper, then covers Orlando's hand with his own when Orlando makes to crumple the drawing. Dominic'll keep it, as a memory of tonight and Orlando, too, and once Orlando recognizes that, they share another run of low, comfortable laughter.
"We still haven't gone for that coffee," Dominic says between songs, lifting his glass to his lips again. Orlando nods and blushes, to Dominic's surprise, but he touches his glass to Dominic's when Dominic lowers it again, and smiles.
"We will. It's good to see you, Dom. And I could use your help, too, I mean beyond everything else."
Dominic frowns, but only a little. "What d'you mean?"
"There's this class," Orlando laughs. "The professor's a piece of work, and I'm not much cop at philosophy--"
Dominic's laughter is loud, and he finishes off his glass and pushes it to one side before he leans in to Orlando again. "You think I am? Maybe together we can figure him out."
"I'm serious. Mostly."
"Well, he likes you, that's a start," Dominic smirks. "You can talk to me about anything, Orli. Really. I owe you one. More than one."
"It's not about that."
"I know."
Orlando looks up as if he's heard something Dominic didn't catch, and Dominic follows his stare to David taking the short jump from the stage to the floor of the club, looking ready for an earned longer break between sets. Dominic swallows and takes the cue, standing before Orlando can.
"You're not going, are you?" Orlando asks, reaching for Dominic's arm to stop him, but his attention is still elsewhere. "I want you to meet David."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah." Orlando finally looks at Dominic, tilting his head before understanding widens his eyes. "It's fine, Dom, really. He knows that I, ehm, had a thing for you. He's glad that we're just friends now."
That was only part of Dominic's concern, but it's good to hear, too, and so Dominic nods and sets his shoulders, drawing up another smile as David advances on them, his hand already outstretched. Orlando introduces them so easily Dominic feels mildly jealous again that he can't do the same for himself and Billy just yet, but the time for that will come; just because Orlando's relationship is safer doesn't mean it's any less important or good or--right.
They talk music for longer than Dominic thought he could, and only when David turns the conversation pleasantly toward what Dominic will be doing after he's finished at Baskerville does Dominic feel his nerves returning a little. Orlando changes the subject smoothly, and another good ten minutes of talk about travel and David drawing on another napkin--this sketch a map to the next venue he'll play--pass before Dominic decides he's ready to bow out gracefully, and enjoy a little of the comfort he sees between David and Orlando for himself, back at Billy's, even if by now Billy's attention might be on bad science fiction, a stack of essays, or one of his many pillows. Dominic shifts from foot to foot, grateful when David hears his name called from across the room and then leans in to shake Dominic's hand again.
"It was great meeting you, David. I need to be off home," Dominic says, hooking his thumb over his shoulder. Orlando watches, pleased, as David disappears to the side of the small stage, then turns and offers Dominic much the same smile.
"I'll walk you out."
Orlando follows Dominic outside the club, tugging on his jacket and digging a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from deep within some inner pocket. The alley's quiet now, and while Dominic wouldn't call the silence between him and Orlando awkward, it is weighted, and Dominic doesn't feel right just walking away anymore when something's left unsaid.
"He's a good guy," Dominic finally offers, relieved when Orlando's shoulders drop, too. "If I can--if we can make it work, and if it won't ... be too weird for you, like, I think Billy would like him. He plays, did you know? Guitar and piano. I think--"
Orlando's eyes widen again, and then he blinks and nods, leaning to light his cigarette and offer Dominic the pack. Dominic reaches for it but then draws back his hand, shoving it into his pocket and shaking his head. Orlando doesn't mention that hesitation, but takes a long draw off his cigarette before he pulls it away and smiles. "Yeah, that would be great. I mean, after. After we're finished. We won't have to think about it then, right?"
"Right." It's a vote of confidence in all four of them, Dominic decides, rather than believe it a challenge that there will even be a four of them to discuss in a matter of months. There's another pause between him and Orlando, and Dominic's half-turned to leave when Orlando takes a deep breath and his turn.
"Hey," Orlando says and Dominic turns back to him fully, though he still takes a few steps backwards, eager now to be home. "Has Elijah still been ..." Orlando raises and drops his hand, at a loss, it seems, to finish that thought.
Dominic shrugs. "In class sometimes, he tries to talk to me like everything is fine. Like it was before. Like it didn't happen. It's strange."
"Don't trust him again."
"I won't," Dominic says, dead certainty back in his voice. "I'm not. It's like sometimes I feel sorry for him."
"You shouldn't. He never felt sorry for you."
It might be truth, but it sounds harsher coming from Orlando, who's wanted to believe the best of them all, Dominic knows. On another night, Dominic might be able to argue that Elijah did once care about him, but the more weeks that pass, the more faded the time he spent with Elijah becomes, whether Dominic's willed that to happen or not. "It doesn't have to always work that way, though," he says when he can find the words. "Getting everything you give back in return. And I'd rather feel sorry for him than hate him, like. Takes too much energy to hate him, and I've ..." Dominic shrugs. "I need all the energy I can get, yeah?"
Orlando nods. "Just be careful. I'm serious."
"You're talking about more than Elijah," Dominic laughs. "But yeah, I will. And we'll get that coffee, next week, okay? My treat."
Another nod, and Orlando leans in for a tighter embrace than when they'd first seen each other tonight. It takes a long time for either to want to pull away this time, and when they do, Orlando's smile is thin but still warm. "Think about the summer, Dom," he says quietly. "I know there's still months to go, but everything can change, and I just--I want to know you're going to have someplace to go. Somewhere to be."
"I will." Dominic conjures up a more confident smile of his own before he turns and begins the long walk back to the main streets and the way home to Billy. Months to go, maybe, he thinks, but they can't pass quickly enough.
Authors: kiltsandlollies and escribo
Characters: Orlando, Dominic
Word count: 3790
Summary: Listening between the lines.
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.
It's cold and raining tonight, and Dominic feels every pass of the wind and drop of that rain as he walks down one of too many Baskerville side streets and alleys, even bundled up in one of Billy's old sweaters and a thick scarf Billy's sister had knitted years ago for him. Dominic's looking for a club that he hadn't known existed until a few days ago, and he clutches a little slip of paper between his fingers as he jumps between puddles. The address on the paper is written in Orlando's loopy handwriting, 221 Baker Street, no, really, and Dominic works now to remember if Orlando had said the place was next to or across from the bakery on the corner. Another ten minutes, and Dominic finally finds the building he's looking for, just as the rain finally begins to let up.
The club is long and thin, the bar running down one side leading to the little stage at the far end. David's already started his set, and for a minute Dominic stands in the doorway and watches. Orlando is stretched out long in his chair, his eyes on David, and a small smile plays on his lips. He's looking at David the same way Dominic knows he looks at Billy sometimes, and Dominic finds that he can be genuinely happy for Orlando, and for himself, too, if he's honest.
Dominic stops at the bar to buy himself a pint of cider, digging into the pocket of his worn jeans for the coins to pay. He thanks the barman, leaving a tip in the jar, and makes his way to Orlando's table, sitting just far back enough that he doesn't interrupt the contact he can see now between David and Orlando; David's attention is fixed on Orlando, playing to him, singing for him. They could be the only people in the room, Dominic thinks, and it's then that he feels a short spike of jealousy. It lasts only as long as the end of David's current song, and Dominic's applauding before he knows it, the sound making Orlando turn in his chair and lean in with a smile and a short, tight embrace.
"Hey," Orlando laughs as he pulls away and resettles, his legs shooting out in front of his to cross at the ankles. "You came. I wasn't sure you'd make it."
"I figured it was time to finally hear David play."
Orlando's eyes flit to the stage, where David's leaning over, tuning a new guitar until he feels the weight of Orlando's stare on him. He looks up, and the smile he and Orlando share makes Dominic grin, too, as if he can feel the warmth of it, too.
"You picked a good night," Orlando sighs when David goes back to his work. "Two more shows, and then he's down to the coast for a week. Some people just need to hear the water, yeah?"
Dominic nods. "Are you going with?"
"I've got too much work to do. I might catch a train down at the weekend."
"It'd be good for you, too." When Orlando looks up, Dominic laughs. "You're looking a bit. You know. I mean, if anybody's going to recognize it, it's me--"
"Yeah." Orlando taps his fingers in a slow dance on the table, but he's still smiling. "I like it, though. I'd rather be tired and working than bored or just--getting through, like. Not that you are," he says quickly, looking up again to make sure he's understood, and Dominic feels a little colour rushing to his cheeks but can't exactly call Orlando out on what he's saying or not saying here; they both know what he means. Orlando swallows and shrugs, his smile going warmer as he turns completely to face Dominic. "The work's good, though. I don't--I haven't told you, have I? I'm in with that gallery in London. For the summer. They've got a place for me, so it's like everything's off and running, but I feel like I can't stop working just because of that."
"That's--great," Dominic says, and means it. "No, it's brilliant. That's what you wanted, yeah? And you got it. You must've killed that interview panel."
Orlando's blush is a sweet one, and he peers down at the table and his drink rather than answer at first, his fingers moving around the rim of his glass. "I'm probably going to end up sweeping the floors after closing, but I don't care. Every little bit helps. And I'll have access to the libraries, and I can sketch after hours. Listen, I--" Orlando pauses and his mouth works for a moment before he looks back up at Dominic. "I used that drawing of your hands in my portfolio. I didn't ask before, and I know--I knew it was sort of dodgy, but it was some of my best work, I thought, and I asked Ms. O, and she agreed, so--"
"It's alright," Dominic tells him. "That's not what got you in, Orli. And whatever works, yeah? It's your sketch. Could have been anybody's hands."
Orlando shakes his head wildly. "Don't think that. And I would have asked, but you haven't been around much, and it wasn't ever the right time--I mean, I didn't want to just grab you after class and throw it out there."
"You could have." When Orlando frowns, Dominic laughs, tilting his head to make sure he's the one understood now and surprised by his own certainty when he speaks. "I don't sit for anything or anyone I don't want, yeah? And it was a fantastic drawing. I saw what you'd finished before we-" Dominic stops himself and takes a long, deep breath. "I don't mind, and you didn't have to ask."
After a moment, Orlando nods and Dominic does too, happy he doesn't have to accept an apology he doesn't want to hear. David's ready now for his next song, and Orlando shifts so he can see the stage and Dominic, too, throwing Dominic a more comfortable smile before he sits back and listens. It takes hardly any time for Dominic to let himself fall into the slow rhythm of David's voice and guitar, and while he's always loved words more than music, the combination of them here and now eases Dominic; his muscles relax and his eyes close a little, allowing him to remember what it's like to be out with a friend and not have to think hard on how the evening will end or why. A small part of him would climb the bar for a proper pint, but that would make things too easy and too hard at once; the bigger part of him knows he doesn't need that or anything else more than he does just companionship--friendship, with all its safe layers.
Two more songs later, Dominic's ready for something more to drink, though, and Orlando plants his hands on the table and tells Dominic to stay where he is; the round's on him. Dominic panics a little until Orlando returns with another cider and a wide smile.
"So what've you got going for the summer?" he asks Dominic as David takes a short break and accepts a drink, too, from one of the girls working the club floor. Dominic blinks, and Orlando tries again. "Were you going to work or just--have you got plans, after all this? After we walk."
Dominic swallows and takes his turn to peer down into his drink. The only plans he's made have developed out of internal goals, not as ways or means toward his professional future. He's taken things day to day in that respect, writing and reading as he's supposed to be doing but evading real talk about what he should be doing after he's graduated. Billy's read him well, and more than once pointed out gently that he knew what Dominic was doing and that there wasn't much time left to play that particular game, but still Dominic had managed to stick with his decision not to decide; all he wants on several levels is to left in peace with Billy and face every tomorrow as it comes. That won't fly, with Billy or anyone else, and here, after having registered Orlando's enthusiasm for the life he'll lead this coming summer and beyond, Dominic feels like he's grasping for the explanation people will want to hear more than any truth he could tell himself or them.
"I've turned in some pieces to the journal here. Abeyonne." Dominic looks up to see if Orlando knows what he's talking about, and Orlando nods, his eyes bright and pleased. "If some of them get published, then I'll feel like I can submit them other places, too, and maybe I'll just. Be a writer. A poet." Dominic clenches his fingers into a fist on the table, looking for strength to put behind the words. "I can work anywhere while I do it. Not like I need to be in an office, yeah? I could do anything."
"Well," Orlando laughs. "Up to a point, yeah. But you could, you're right; I wish I could--I need this internship to get anywhere, but if I didn't, I'd be out there all day." Orlando throws a hand in the air, the unnamed out there some place warmer and brighter than Baskerville, Dominic hopes on his behalf, brighter and warmer than London, too. "I keep thinking I want to just make things, but you have to love and understand what happens to things after they're made, too, right? It's good to know how to take care of--"
"Someone else's art," Dominic murmurs, and takes a long drink when Orlando stares at him warmly.
"While you make your own. It'll come back to you, then. Someone else will know how to take care of yours. Of you." Orlando's eyes flit again to David, but David's in deep conversation with an older man and woman, the man entranced by David's guitar and the woman by David's voice, soft and gravelly, Dominic can hear even three tables away. Orlando turns back to Dominic and leans in a bit more, just brushing his shoulder against Dominic's.
"How are you, Dom? I mean really. I haven't seen you in a while, and it's like--I keep saying that, I keep having to say that, and I don't want to. We haven't talked except about class."
"I know. I'm sorry about that."
"It's not just your fault, is it. I did go to your rooms a few times, but you're--not really there much, are you?" He doesn't wait for an answer, and Dominic doesn't know that he could give him one in any case. "So what happened?"
Dominic takes another deep breath and lowers his voice. "We worked things out."
"What?" Orlando tilts his head, and realization crosses his faces, turning his eyes a bit darker and more narrowed for the briefest instant before he manages to push it away. "You and the professor. Dom--"
"Yeah." Dominic sits up in his chair and lifts his chin, not wanting a fight and not really prepared for one either, but looking the part's half the battle, he thinks. "Listen, I'm happy, Orlando. It's better now."
"There was only one way to go, Dom," Orlando says, a little hotly, and then he shakes his head. "I'm sorry. It's just--I'm the last person who's going to judge you, okay--"
"Except where you already have." Dominic can't force any malice into his words; he understands Orlando's confusion and concern and knows he might react the same way if the tables were turned, but he tells himself it doesn't matter even as he hears the sharp echo of Billy's concern, too: Everything matters.
"I don't mean to," Orlando's saying now. "I don't want to. You're happy."
"For maybe the first time, yeah." Orlando's expression makes his doubt more than clear, but Dominic pushes on, for once not feeling as if he's forcing himself to believe it, too. "I am. I promise I am. Things are good. Better."
"Enough that you're not even thinking past graduation," Orlando says quietly. "What happens--"
"Will happen." Dominic opens his hands, a little desperation in the gesture, but then he laughs. "Give me this, okay? Things are right. Trust me, okay, we both fucked up, and it's not like it's the easiest thing in the world, but it's right. It feels right, and in a few months nobody's going to care who we are, and in the meantime, I'd like to just-fucking breathe a little, okay. Without thinking I can't tell anyone, not even you." Dominic sits back in the chair and stares at the ceiling, letting the silence between him and Orlando settle them both before he speaks again. "Things are right, Orli. You're happy, yeah? And you don't question it. I want that, too. I get to have that, too."
"Is that where you've been?" Orlando says, curiosity more than the fear of before in his voice. "With him."
Dominic nods and relaxes again, meeting Orlando's eyes. "He asked me to stay. I'm not--always there, but yeah. I live--I'm living with him. And good fucking thing, too, because he'd burn the place down if I weren't."
Orlando laughs despite himself, nodding some more. "Yeah, okay, I believe that."
"Believe all of it." Dominic leans down and lowers his voice to a near whisper. "Everything's how it's supposed to be. I'm not just sleeping with him, okay? It's--real, like. It's good. And when summer gets here, I'll be even better, and I'll just ... make my way, like. With him. He asked me to stay."
"Are you writing, Dom? More than what you sent to the journal."
"More than I was before." Orlando shakes his head; the answer's not enough, and Dominic nods in acknowledgment. "I am. It's just different. Are you drawing? More than what you put in the portfolio?"
Orlando breaks, then, and sighs. "Okay. Yeah. Less than I was before."
"But it's better, isn't it. Because, and let me posit this, okay," Dominic laughs. "Because you're happy?"
"Just tell me there's more to it than--" Orlando huffs, but his smile remains. "You're enough on your own, Dom. You know that, yeah?"
"Yeah." A flash of colour from the stage catches Dominic's eye, and he turns to see David take from his otherwise muted selection of guitars a red Stratocaster, brilliant and bright. Dominic exhales on a whistle of appreciation and looks back at Orlando biting his lips slightly as if some switch inside's been thrown. "So are you," Dominic says quietly, and Orlando nods.
The guitar sounds as beautiful as it looks, and Dominic watches first David's playing and then Orlando's reaction to it, the care Orlando's taking with this particular someone else's art. There's a strong connection here Dominic can see and feel without having even shaken David's hand or spoken to him, and Dominic wonders now whether what he himself has with Billy is or could be as visible to anyone else. He'd like to think so, and as David winds down the end of his next song, Dominic promises himself that as soon as it's safe to do so, he'll find a way to show Billy the same public attention he loves to in private.
For the next twenty minutes or so, Dominic frees his mind of all of that, though, and enjoys the music again for what it is, and Orlando's company for even more. Dominic catches him in mid-sketch on a napkin and watches in pleasure and awe as the Stratocaster comes to a different kind of life on the paper, then covers Orlando's hand with his own when Orlando makes to crumple the drawing. Dominic'll keep it, as a memory of tonight and Orlando, too, and once Orlando recognizes that, they share another run of low, comfortable laughter.
"We still haven't gone for that coffee," Dominic says between songs, lifting his glass to his lips again. Orlando nods and blushes, to Dominic's surprise, but he touches his glass to Dominic's when Dominic lowers it again, and smiles.
"We will. It's good to see you, Dom. And I could use your help, too, I mean beyond everything else."
Dominic frowns, but only a little. "What d'you mean?"
"There's this class," Orlando laughs. "The professor's a piece of work, and I'm not much cop at philosophy--"
Dominic's laughter is loud, and he finishes off his glass and pushes it to one side before he leans in to Orlando again. "You think I am? Maybe together we can figure him out."
"I'm serious. Mostly."
"Well, he likes you, that's a start," Dominic smirks. "You can talk to me about anything, Orli. Really. I owe you one. More than one."
"It's not about that."
"I know."
Orlando looks up as if he's heard something Dominic didn't catch, and Dominic follows his stare to David taking the short jump from the stage to the floor of the club, looking ready for an earned longer break between sets. Dominic swallows and takes the cue, standing before Orlando can.
"You're not going, are you?" Orlando asks, reaching for Dominic's arm to stop him, but his attention is still elsewhere. "I want you to meet David."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah." Orlando finally looks at Dominic, tilting his head before understanding widens his eyes. "It's fine, Dom, really. He knows that I, ehm, had a thing for you. He's glad that we're just friends now."
That was only part of Dominic's concern, but it's good to hear, too, and so Dominic nods and sets his shoulders, drawing up another smile as David advances on them, his hand already outstretched. Orlando introduces them so easily Dominic feels mildly jealous again that he can't do the same for himself and Billy just yet, but the time for that will come; just because Orlando's relationship is safer doesn't mean it's any less important or good or--right.
They talk music for longer than Dominic thought he could, and only when David turns the conversation pleasantly toward what Dominic will be doing after he's finished at Baskerville does Dominic feel his nerves returning a little. Orlando changes the subject smoothly, and another good ten minutes of talk about travel and David drawing on another napkin--this sketch a map to the next venue he'll play--pass before Dominic decides he's ready to bow out gracefully, and enjoy a little of the comfort he sees between David and Orlando for himself, back at Billy's, even if by now Billy's attention might be on bad science fiction, a stack of essays, or one of his many pillows. Dominic shifts from foot to foot, grateful when David hears his name called from across the room and then leans in to shake Dominic's hand again.
"It was great meeting you, David. I need to be off home," Dominic says, hooking his thumb over his shoulder. Orlando watches, pleased, as David disappears to the side of the small stage, then turns and offers Dominic much the same smile.
"I'll walk you out."
Orlando follows Dominic outside the club, tugging on his jacket and digging a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from deep within some inner pocket. The alley's quiet now, and while Dominic wouldn't call the silence between him and Orlando awkward, it is weighted, and Dominic doesn't feel right just walking away anymore when something's left unsaid.
"He's a good guy," Dominic finally offers, relieved when Orlando's shoulders drop, too. "If I can--if we can make it work, and if it won't ... be too weird for you, like, I think Billy would like him. He plays, did you know? Guitar and piano. I think--"
Orlando's eyes widen again, and then he blinks and nods, leaning to light his cigarette and offer Dominic the pack. Dominic reaches for it but then draws back his hand, shoving it into his pocket and shaking his head. Orlando doesn't mention that hesitation, but takes a long draw off his cigarette before he pulls it away and smiles. "Yeah, that would be great. I mean, after. After we're finished. We won't have to think about it then, right?"
"Right." It's a vote of confidence in all four of them, Dominic decides, rather than believe it a challenge that there will even be a four of them to discuss in a matter of months. There's another pause between him and Orlando, and Dominic's half-turned to leave when Orlando takes a deep breath and his turn.
"Hey," Orlando says and Dominic turns back to him fully, though he still takes a few steps backwards, eager now to be home. "Has Elijah still been ..." Orlando raises and drops his hand, at a loss, it seems, to finish that thought.
Dominic shrugs. "In class sometimes, he tries to talk to me like everything is fine. Like it was before. Like it didn't happen. It's strange."
"Don't trust him again."
"I won't," Dominic says, dead certainty back in his voice. "I'm not. It's like sometimes I feel sorry for him."
"You shouldn't. He never felt sorry for you."
It might be truth, but it sounds harsher coming from Orlando, who's wanted to believe the best of them all, Dominic knows. On another night, Dominic might be able to argue that Elijah did once care about him, but the more weeks that pass, the more faded the time he spent with Elijah becomes, whether Dominic's willed that to happen or not. "It doesn't have to always work that way, though," he says when he can find the words. "Getting everything you give back in return. And I'd rather feel sorry for him than hate him, like. Takes too much energy to hate him, and I've ..." Dominic shrugs. "I need all the energy I can get, yeah?"
Orlando nods. "Just be careful. I'm serious."
"You're talking about more than Elijah," Dominic laughs. "But yeah, I will. And we'll get that coffee, next week, okay? My treat."
Another nod, and Orlando leans in for a tighter embrace than when they'd first seen each other tonight. It takes a long time for either to want to pull away this time, and when they do, Orlando's smile is thin but still warm. "Think about the summer, Dom," he says quietly. "I know there's still months to go, but everything can change, and I just--I want to know you're going to have someplace to go. Somewhere to be."
"I will." Dominic conjures up a more confident smile of his own before he turns and begins the long walk back to the main streets and the way home to Billy. Months to go, maybe, he thinks, but they can't pass quickly enough.