Author: xspiral_static (me)
Pairing: Matthew Bellamy/Dominic Howard ("Belldom")
Warnings: none, as of yet (if continued this may go up to as far as NC-17)
Disclaimer: I do not own anything, nor do I imply that any of this is actually true or based on truth - simply the product of innocent adulation and vivid imagination (lol)
Summary: set in 18th century England at a masked ball, charming lothario Dominic Howard is captured by his coy friend's musical wizardry...
Feedback: greatly appreciated <3 :)
Notes: first ever posted fic, be gentle with me ;) This chapter has not been formally beta'd, so apologies for any grammatical errors or historical inaccuracies.
‘Eternally Missed’: Chapter 2, by xspiral_static
Dominic emerged sluggishly from his cubicle, relieved that the pressure in his bladder had gone away... it seemed to make his guilt worse. He splashed his face with water from the tap, hoping the water would wash over his visions of sin. Seeing the diminutive yet captivating Matthew work his magic – no, his devilry - had reminded him of something that had long bothered him throughout his adolescent years, something that he refused to become part of his life. He loved, craved women, with their coy games and delicate forms, and had become known for his nocturnal antics. Yes, he liked this persona, it reinforced the confidence and mischievous charm he exuded, which only led to yet more women and remarkable tales of his virtuosity between the sheets. But there was something about his friend that he couldn’t deny was attractive.
He was just so different to him; with brilliance comes fame, and with fame comes arrogance and complacency. Dominic had watched Matthew grow to become a star in classical circles, watched the upper classes embrace his enviable talents. And yet, the pianist still showed no sign of an acknowledgement, let alone an appreciation of his gift. He still blushed furiously every time an admirer or ageing aristocrat showered him with praise and adulation, still stumbled over his words as he thanked them earnestly. A modesty, a dignity that Dominic could never retain whenever girls talked of his hidden talents. Celebrity and recognition had not spoiled his shy, warm and honest nature, and for this Dominic was both pleased and disappointed. He severely doubted that Matthew was even aware of just how good he was, and thought that if he did he would have that little bit more confidence – but then he just wouldn’t be the Matthew he knew anymore. He certainly wasn’t socially-inept, one of the lads to be found leaning precariously on the bar in the local tavern on a Friday night; but not half as loud, obnoxious or sexually indiscriminate. No, Matthew had respect, that’s what it was. He possessed a sensitivity that far surpassed his own or any of their lairy friends. And that’s why he felt the way he did for the kind gentleman.
And that’s when the man himself appeared in the entrance of the gents. His stance was amiable yet upright, leaning against the doorframe while his flowing deep red embroidered coat enveloping his modest form. A slightly surprised, yet obviously pleased smile graced his petite features. Dominic’s head snapped round to meet those deep, turquoise pools that resembled eyes. He stammered.
“Ah! Matthew, my good friend!”
Matthew's smile grew into that boyish grin he loved so much. "Dominic, my dear old friend."
Dominic's weariness was in a instant banished, and moved forward swiftly to greet his companion, but his voice still cracked under the embarrassment of being caught unawares. "Haha! Oh, yes! Marvellous performance, old boy! Mind you, that's usual, eh?" He tried to make light of his honest, most serious opinion, but it just did not sound as easy or sincere as it was meant to in his own mind. Matthew was delighted nonetheless by the man's compliment, but it was clear his laugh was borne out of self-consciousness. And Devon's own Don Juan could see it. "Come now, I mean it!" Dominic flashed a genuine smile, wanting to make his friend happy (and accept his statement of fact).
The man lowered his raven-haired head in a coy, self-indulging smile. Hmph, why could he not just say thank you and be done with it? (No - that would mean he agrees.) Dominic regarded the slightly hunched figure from the other side of the small, dark chamber, feeling an overwhelming urge to ease the discomfort radiating from his lonely figure. Was this simply his shyness, or something more? A tension? Was something amiss? ...Had he witnessed Dominic's conspicuous behaviour? Oh God, please, no. Matthew looked up, still smiling, but another, intense, convoluted emotion was present behind the good humour found there. They held each other's gaze for a moment, unsure of what to do. The connection was electrifying, elating. Terrifying. Dominic Howard could feel himself falling into the deep of the droplets of pure ocean that were Matthew Bellamy's eyes. An opened mouth, (beautiful lips) the verge of an utterance, (sweet breath) only to clam up again (sigh). A shift in weight; a step closer? Both gentlemen, it seemed had something to say, yet were damned if they would.
Dominic, not a fan of awkward social situations, with considerable effort broke off the heated stare first and searched for something to dispel the disconcerting silence. "Good wine?" He gestured towards the half-empty glass.
Matthew's eyes, torn back to the here and now lit up, before he took a languid sip of the dark ruby liquid. He let both his head and eyes roll back as he felt the sweet poison slide down his throat, flood his senses. Jesus Christ. "Mmm..." He savoured, regarding his now empty glass. "Shiraz-Grenache." He looked at Dominic. "My favourite!" A frankly unnecessary assertion of his enjoyment of the beverage. Why was the simple, innocuous act of drinking so erotic? Was it seeing the pianist's neck convulse as he consumed the liquid aphrodisiac? Or was it the mist of lust that clouded his heavy-lidded eyes for just a second? Stop it. This is your friend, good old Matthew - not a penny whore!
"Erm...?" Dominic glanced around the lavatory, assuming Matthew will have wanted to use its facilities.
"Oh, yes, of course," Matthew answered his companion's observation, moving towards the nearest cubicle hurriedly in his awkwardness.
Dominic smiled as he brushed past him to leave. "I'll wait for you outside, shall I?"
Matthew nodded, eyes at his feet as he shut the cubicle door quietly.
Phew... Dominic sighed as he leant heavily on the wall next to the lavatory. Of all places, and of all times, why did Matthew choose to bump into him now? This was not good. Not only were his feelings for Matthew troubling him, but it was upsetting their easy, playful friendship. But why did he seem flustered as well? His smile, although it reached his eyes felt rushed and surprised. Alarmed - perhaps he hadn't wanted to walk in on him either. Had he sought the privacy of the lavatory to escape him? Oh, no. Maybe he should just leave now, not wait for him. Maybe he was stalling, taking his time in the hope that he would get sidetracked -
Matthew appeared at his side. Surprised again! What a sly, dextrous creature. Devil. But this time, Matthew's smile seemed easier, more relaxed.
"Ah - so what was I going to tell you? Oh yes - the Duke has requested our company for after dinner brandy and cigars. I was looking for you to let you know." (Liar). Matthew hated himself whenever he lied - it felt easy, too easy - so wrong.
"Oh, I haven't seen Chris in ages, the old scoundrel!" Dominic laughed as he thought of his wealthy friend, and walked with less than relative ease next to his friend towards Duke Christopher Wolstenholme’s private quarters.