eff_reality: (so ridiculously pretty dom)
[personal profile] eff_reality
Premise: AU. Billy is a PhD. candidate in Cinema Studies at Suffolk University and Dom is a rent boy in Southie.
Rating: PG-13 to NC-17
Feedback: is my anti-drug. Help keep me off the pipe.
Summary: Billy celebrates handing in his dissertation, and Dominic takes pictures.
Note: It's so good to be back. Love to all who've stuck with me over the past month.
Previously.




SCENE 15. - INT. THE GREEN DRAGON TAVERN - FRIDAY EVENING

"So what was your big paper about?" A friend of one of Lij's friends leans into Billy, and he gets a whiff of her flowery perfume. It smells a bit like what his grandmother used to wear, and for that reason he answers the girl's lean with one of his own.

"Ehm..." Billy smiles, narrowing his eyes. He still can't get over the fact that he's having a conversation about his dissertation in the past tense. It feels wrong; he still needs to pass his defense, after all. "German expressionism." Her eyebrows raise over big blue eyes. "It was this big film movement in the twenties."

From this moment on, Billy goes on autopilot. He's been living and breathing this project for the past year and a half or more, so at this point it's second nature. But there is something different about his voice just now. Since clicking "Send" on that e-mail to Sherlock at 8:14am (Billy'd wanted to enjoy his Friday, after all), he's felt lighter, as if two layers of his skin have been peeled off. Even though it would have been much more gratifying handing a pristine printed copy of those corrected pages to Sherlock in person, Billy's center of gravity has nonetheless shifted from his stomach to his chest. While he's gotten used to talking about his paper with undertones of exasperation and anxiety, he speaks about it now with increasing contented distance.

He throws out examples of some of the films he focused on in his paper, and the girl he's talking to--Maeve? Maude?--shakes her head helplessly at each one. "Sorry, I don't think I've seen anything that was made before 1980," she deadpans.

Billy smiles and waves a hand dismissively. "Eh, it's all rubbish before then anyway. Not really worth it, if you ask me."

Maeve/Maude laughs and fiddles with her girly drink glass.

Lij catches Billy's eye across the table and shakes his head. Billy feigns ignorance. He understands, though, that the girl fancies him and that he's indulging her. It happens more often than he'd like to admit. Lij says it's because he's not obvious enough--men and women alike assume he's straight, and "how the fuck do you expect to get any ass that way?"

Quite frankly, Billy doesn't "give two shits" (as Lij himself would say) what impression he's giving, especially not tonight. Besides being nearly done with the greatest burden of his academic career, he can say that he is particularly secure in his homosexuality at the moment, because just two nights ago he had some very gay sex. Some very amazing, very gay sex. And while the circumstances perhaps weren't ideal, the act itself was fucking incredible. In fact, Billy's still having trouble believing it actually happened, that he actually marched into that room and enacted some filthy erotic fantasy he must have been harboring since he was fourteen without even knowing it. Who was that, that man who took what he wanted with such confidence, such thoughtlessness? Billy hadn't been him in so long, he'd forgotten that he existed.

And Dominic. Dom. Billy's stomach flips in an intoxicating way as he tries to keep up with the-girl-with-the-M-name's questions. He suddenly and acutely wishes Dominic were here, filling the empty space to his left. He should be here, after all--he, more than anyone at this table, made a real contribution to Billy's dissertation. That second time with him had really given Billy the push he'd needed to get those final edits done. Leaving Dominic's flat that night, he'd felt changed, capable of anything, like all the crap between him and the department just didn't matter at all anymore.

That feeling has managed to stick, too. The air tonight, just starting to turn into something horrible and unforgiving--another Boston winter, with any luck my last, Billy thinks to himself with a sigh--has him feeling renewed and alive rather than beaten down.

He'd almost made a joke to Elijah not fifteen minutes before about including Dominic in his Acknowledgements. But then he'd remembered that he hadn't told Lij about their second time together yet. He's enjoying the delay too much, and he'd like to keep the secret close to him for just a bit longer.

As Billy half-consciously explains the theatricality of German expressionism and its connection to World War I, he mentally fills the empty chair beside him with Dominic's lovely little frame. He simply inserts the remembered image of him from the Chinese place (only without all the takeout cartons, of course), quiet and hunched over, tripping nervous fingers over his leather bands. He wonders if it's even a likely scenario, Dominic being here. Does he hang out in these ubiquitous Irish pubs? Does he "hang out" at all, or does he only exist on that corner, in that bedroom? Despite confirmation from Elijah that he is real, Billy still sometimes suspects that he's imagined the whole thing.

The silly thing about it is, when he thinks about why he went, the first time anyway, all he can remember is needing a change in his routine. He had gotten so used to the sheer solitude of his day-to-day life: teaching class, running the reels at the HFA, going to the library to work on his dissertation. From the classroom to the projection booth to his carrel to his bed, it had been 24 hours of isolation nearly 7 days a week. Stepping through the library doors that Sunday night, he'd felt the pressure of that ever-present time crunch, making the very sky feel like a wall. But as he breathed in the cold air, he suddenly remembered that there was a whole world outside of that tiny space he occupied. He thought for one brief, calm moment that if he stepped out of his self-imposed prison for just a second, maybe time would stop and he could pretend that every fiber of him wasn't driving toward this deadline. And it did stop; just not until he'd reached Dominic's bedroom.

Billy feels himself flush and he loses his train of thought.

M-Girl looks at him with a sympathetic, amused smile. "God, you must be exhausted. I'm sorry I even asked."

He shakes his head in exasperation and excuses himself politely, relocating to his original spot beside Elijah. He unceremoniously grabs Lij's burger off his plate, groaning, "Food," and takes a huge bite.

Lij smacks him hard on the knuckles until he drops it. "Hey! Just because you're a doctor now doesn't mean you can steal other people's shit!"

"'S not shit," Billy imitates his friend's crass accent through a mouthful of food. "It's a burger." He swallows and gives Lij a boyish smile.

Lij claps him on the back as if to say, It's alright, I don't really mind. You've earned it. He takes another sip of his Heineken and leans into Billy's ear. "You'd better watch yourself there, you charming little bastard."

Billy ducks his head and smiles wide. "Yeah, yeah."

"I'm telling you, you're not obvious enough."

He rolls his eyes and picks at Lij's fries.

"I'm serious! The world needs to know you're out for the cock."

"I know I'm out for the cock. And if the world doesn't realize it, it can go fuck itself then." He bites a fry violently in two.

Lij's focus returns to his plate of food. "C'mon, Bill, I haven't eaten all day," he whines.

"Sorry, mine hasn't come yet." Billy wipes his salty fingers on his trousers.

"What'd you get?"

"Irish Breakfast," Billy exhales as he leans his head on Elijah's shoulder. "My father'll be rolling in his grave."

"There you go," Lij wraps one arm around Billy's shoulders and works at his food and drink with the other. "This kind of public man-on-man affection is a step in the right direction."

Billy nods against the material of Lij's sweater and lets his eyes fall shut. He realizes that he hasn't had any coffee today and he's flagging. He appreciates Lij's insistence that he celebrate his accomplishment, but he just doesn't want to be here tonight. Now that he's free to roam beyond those exclusive little spheres of space he's occupied for the past year and a half, he finds that all he wants--at least for the next few days--is to sit in some quiet little coffee shop somewhere alone.

Or...

The sneaky man who runs the incessantly glowing projector in his head has even managed to insert Dominic into that fantasy. Behind Billy's eyelids, he's sitting in one of those big, plush chairs in Starbucks. Dominic is perched gorgeously on the arm beside him, one leather-clad limb resting along the back above the spread of Billy's hair. Billy reaches up and rests a palm on Dominic's thigh, rubbing his thumb back and forth methodically as they soak in each other's silence.

*

SCENE 16. - EXT. BOSTON COMMON - FRIDAY EVENING

The sun is beginning to fade, and Dominic is clicking furiously.

He doesn't usually shoot at night, but he'd felt like he was drying up from the inside out, holed up in his tiny flat all day. Besides, the Common always has enough artificial light to make it worthwhile.

Just as Dominic takes a moment to warm his hands in his pockets, a chipmunk darts out from under a street vendor cart and his eyes flash longingly after it. He doesn't even try to capture it--he knows he's not quick enough for the little bugger. Instead, he tilts his camera upward and takes his time steadying his fingers. The early evening sky is doing beautiful things between the tree branches above him.

Somewhere vaguely behind him, he hears groups of uni students starting the weekend in different ways: on their way to dinner, making plans for a club for later that night, heading to South Station to visit home, crossing the street to go to the movies. The lens closes and opens in front of his left eye and he cherishes his own solitude.

He ventures further into the greenery, away from the noise of the crowds.

It feels unbearably good to him, being on hiatus--almost as if he's leading someone else's life. Or, rather, like he's been leading someone else's life for the past two years and is just now finally getting back to himself. He's been making lots of plans: shooting (of course), seeing monuments, assorted cultural outings. Mostly alone. In his heart of hearts, Dominic prefers his own company more than anyone else's. Whenever he's spent a good, solid block of time with anyone, no matter how much he enjoys being with them, he inevitably starts to feel itchy. As strange as it sounds, he loves that feeling of wholeness he gets when they finally walk away from him.

Tomorrow, he'll go see the Jim Lambie exhibit over at the MFA. He remembers offhandedly that Lambie's Scottish, and wonders if Billy knows who he is--not personally, but if he's familiar with his work. Perhaps Billy's seen the exhibit already, if he's that kind of guy.

I'm such a twelve year-old.

Dominic shakes his head at himself and follows a row of ducks along the pond. The fading light renders them mere silhouettes, which he captures from different angles and distances.

As much as he's enjoying himself and feeling productive, though, he is slightly unfocused. He can't stop imagining running into Billy again, like that night after Paradise. For the past two hours, his gaze has strayed from his camera and its subjects countless times, lingering on any man of Billy's stature wearing his coat. (He'd never realized until today just how many men in Boston have that same standard black peacoat.) Every corner he's turned, his eyes have preceded him, wide in unwarranted anticipation.

Subconsciously, there is a reason he came back to the Common. It's right in the middle of Downtown Boston, quite literally in the center of everything. If you stay there the entire day, it's likely you'll run into half the people you know in the city. He knows it's foolish to try to manufacture a chance encounter, but he can't help himself. As he turns on his heels and heads back in the direction of Starbucks, Dominic shoves his hands deep into his pockets and pictures some of the possible scenarios again.

1. Billy is an accountant at a law firm on Tremont Street. He bursts out of work at 6:15, relatively early for a Friday, and saunters sluggishly through the Common toward the Red Line. Tired and oblivious, he almost literally stumbles over Dominic, who is crouched down on the path taking pictures. "Hello there," he laughs, a little breathless.

2. Billy is a calculus teacher at a local public high school. After stopping in one of the pubs in Government Center with his colleagues for a much-needed drink, he and a couple of the foreign language teachers wander happily toward the restaurants on Boylston. As they pass a vendor, Billy spots Dominic crossing the street and breaks off from the trio's lively conversation. "Dom?!" he shouts brightly, his mouth tugging up at the corners.

3. Billy's father owns the pub next to Starbucks. Billy sits at a high table by the front window, calculating the week's earnings. Something's not adding up quite right, and he frowns, rubbing circles into his temples with his tiny fingers. He pauses and takes a sip of his pint, raising his eyes to the view outside. In that moment, he notices Dominic, who then notices him back and stops in his quick stride. They both smile, and Billy motions for Dominic to come inside.

Dominic can't decide why math always seems to be a part of Billy's imagined professions.

It's beyond silly, but he feels a sliver of disappointment when he pushes through the big green door at Starbucks and none of these scenarios have yet come to fruition.

He continues to conjure up situations while waiting in line. Dominic's the one who's part of a "subculture," you could say, but Billy's the true mystery at this point. Still, Dominic doesn't understand why he should fascinate him so much; Billy hasn't revealed any less than most of his clients. He has regulars who've been seeing him for months who he doesn't know as well.

As much as he's considered it, he has no idea whether or not Billy will become a regular. He's replayed every moment of their last meeting in his head (not a difficult task), trying to remember if Billy gave any indication that there would be a next time. He particularly harps on that final look in his eyes as he slipped through the door.

Dominic sits at a table by the window with his cider and decides that he's lost most if not all of the power in this relationship. And the fact that he's thinking about a client he's only been with twice in terms of a relationship of any kind only works to cement that decision. He sniffles and spreads his fingers along the sides of the cup, waiting for his skin to warm.



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