Arthur - lalablue
Disclaimer - This could only happen in my head.
Notes - No animals were harmed in the making of this fiction. un-beta'd 1021 words. First person/Dom's POV.
Pairing - Dom/ not yet.
Rating - Right now PG-ish, for swearing and random sexual encounter.
Summary - Dom picks up smoking and pretty much anything else he can get his grubby little hands on.
I was not doing very well. I had only wanted to do three things on a daily basis. Drink, fuck, and sleep. The first two were easy enough. The last, well, I never used to remember my dreams, but then, they were haunting me.
The local shopkeeper down the road from where I lived could tell what time of the day it was by when I arrived for my daily supply of condoms and beef jerky.
One day, arriving back home and quickly empty my packages, I discovered a pack of cigarettes in the brown paper bag. Parliaments. I tossed them aside, believing I would return them to the shop the following day. Upon discovering that the liquor cupboard was dry, the condoms and the cigarettes found their way in to my trousers and I walked the few blocks to a nearby pub.
I drowned myself in high balls and the like. I flirted shamelessly with the blondes and redheads around me. One, a girl with blue streaks in her bleached blonde hair, tasted of cigarettes. It didn't make me sick. Nothing made me sick much anymore.
I pulled the blue and white pack from my front pocket and tossed them on the bar. The barkeep eyed me rather oddly, knowing he'd never seen me smoking before. Blue streaks nibbled on my ear and rubbed her hands on the front of my jeans. My mind was oddly clear. Regardless of the amount of alcohol I consumed, My mind was focused. However my mind was not set on the beauty by my side, but the cigarettes in front of me.
I played with the pack. Turning them and tapping them on the bar, in effect "packing" them. I watched Elijah do it many times with his cloves. I saw flashes of Elijah in my mind's eye, smiling, dragging off the sweet smelling cloves. I licked my lips.
"Come on, baby. Let's find us a nice dark corner." Blue streaks whispered in my ear.
I didn't look at her; I just let her lead me away. I took the pack of fags with me. I had forgotten my coat, but couldn't bear to part with that pack.
Just like the many mindless loveless acts I had committed previously, blue streaks had been no different. Dark alley, skirt hiked up, from behind, no eye contact. Just another used rubber thrown in the trash.
When did my life become one meaningless encounter after another? Buttoning my jeans and feeling the sharp corner of the cigarette pack, it occurred to me. I knew exactly when this happened.
I didn't go back into the pub with blue streaks. I crossed my arms to fend against the chill and began walking back towards my flat.
Passed the girls hooking on the street corners and passed the junkies hiding in the shadows. Passed the old men, the one begging for change outside the liquor store and the one declaring the end is near. This was my world. I needed to escape.
I needed to find my way back to some bit of normalcy. I don't know if I even recall what that was anymore. I couldn't find any stars in the sky. The lights of the city were too bright and the only stars anyone thought were worth seeing were on the red carpet. Nothing like New Zealand. Nothing was ever like New Zealand anymore.
I don't know when it happened. What part of the thought process provoked my body to detach itself from my consciousness? I don't even remember where I got the light. I didn't cough. I don't feel like vomiting. It felt natural.
The smoke swirled around my head and stray ashes fluttered onto my cheeks. I raised my hand to brush them away.
Why are my cheeks wet? Damn it. Why do I do this to myself? How did I end up here? How long have I been walking? When did I pass my building? What time is it? Did I just knock? Why can't I walk away?
I hear the footfalls on the other side of the door. The light overhead shines brightly in my eyes. I can't move my feet. I can't walk away. My subconscious brought me to this place. My body finally caught up.
"Dom?" The voice is barely audible in my ears. The tears blur my vision, but I can see clear enough that I had awoken him. He was still rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
I couldn't formulate into words what I wanted to tell him. I didn't know how to express the pain I felt. The urge that brought me to his door. Or what I expected he could do about it.
"Dom? Have you been crying? What's wrong?"
The legs that had decided my journey finally gave up on me. I crumpled to the hard cold concrete landing and shook. He kneeled beside me and studied me with a worried look. His eyes widen even more at the sight of me lighting one fag off the end of another.
"What are you doing? You don't smoke. You hate smoking," he questioned.
I could only stare up at him. I couldn’t fathom when my life became so cruel. When I denied everything I ever loved because I couldn’t admit who I was.
“Dom, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?” He was choking back tears. Seeing me in pain must have him up inside.
“I... I’m lost.” Was all I could muster.
Viggo sat up straight and looked me over with obvious concern. A smile broke from his lips. “And you can’t find your way home?”
I nodded gently, missing the joke. He pulled me up by arms and threw his arm around my shoulder. He pulled the fag from my mouth and stomped it out on the ground.
“I know what you need. You always needed it,” He smiled.
I was lead into the house and sat on the couch. Viggo quickly disappeared down the dark hallway and returned with a pillow and blanket.
“I don’t need to sleep,” I growled.
“For now, sleep. Tomorrow will better. I promise.”
I reluctantly placed my head on the pillow. I feared the dreams that might come. I feared the day ahead. I feared maybe going to Viggo was the wrong idea.