Lala (lalablue) wrote,

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Title - Lost (2/?)Not to be confused with the awesome series written by semaphore27
Arthur - lalablue
Disclaimer - This could only happen in my head.
Notes - un-beta'd 679 words. First person/Dom's POV.
Pairing - Dom/ not yet.
Rating - Still PG-ish.
Summary - Dom sees himself.

First part Here

I woke up tangled up in blankets and sweat. The sunlight poured through the windows and warmed my face. I probably should have questioned where I was, knowing that I was not in my own flat. But even through early morning hazy vision, the unusual painted wall mural was my first clue.

I untangled myself from my wool and linen confines and padded my way to the loo. I did my business and splashed cold water on my face. I turned to leave, but found myself confronted by an unfamiliar face.

I didn't recognize the figure on the glass to be my own face and body.

Pale skin, sunken eyes, a ghost of my former self.

I traced the lines that now creased my face. No laugh lines here. Had no reason to smile much anymore. Not since New Zealand. Not since*

I closed my eyes and shook the thought from my head. I retrained my gaze to the glass before me. I pulled my shirt off and ran my fingers over my rib cage. I pawed over my body like it was the first time I had seen it. It was the first time I really had.

My mind drifted from the moment and I saw myself again as I was in New Zealand.Rosy cheeks, blue eyes, a smile, a laugh, happy, healthy and enamored.

I swallowed hard at the memory. I could feel you so close to my skin. Feel the heat of you right next to me. Taste the malt on your lips, smell the smoke in your hair. Hear your heart pounding in your chest.

I shuddered. My thoughts again had betrayed me and focused on you. You're the reason I'm like this. You're the reason I haven't worked, or eaten a decent meal, or fallen in love. You're the reason I hate myself, that I torture myself. You're the reason I crave a smoke.

The mirror shatters and shards of glass litter the floor. Viggo's heavy feet
come pounding down the hallway and his eyes are wide when he finds me huddled on the floor. My knees against my chest, I hide behind the denim, shamed of what I had done.

Viggo steps carefully over the glass and kneels beside me.

"Today isn't any better."

"So you took it out on the mirror?" Viggo asked, looking at the broken pieces on the floor.

Feeling the shame of damaging Viggo's property, I hung my head. "I'll pay for it."

"That's not the point. You've hurt yourself. Look." Viggo pulled my hand free from the grasp of the opposing hand and held it out.

Blood dripped from my knuckles onto the red clay tile floor. I hadn't felt any pain. I still didn't. Viggo stood up and began going though his medicine cabinets. I could only watch the little rivulets of blood pool on the floor by my side. I caught my hand trembling. I needed a drink.

Viggo bandaged my hand and sat me outside on his back yard patio. He wouldn't let me have the alcohol my body ached for. He would, however, let me have fag.

"I called," Viggo finally announced.

I stared at him. He didn't even have to elaborate. I knew exactly whom he
called. "And?"

"They're coming." Viggo smiled.


"Because you need them."

"I don't."

"More then you realize you do."

"I don't need anyone."

"Dom are you so blind. I mean really. Look at you. Since you've been away, you've gone to hell."

"Gee thanks."

"I'm serious. You saw something in the mirror you didn't like. That's why you hit it."

"It provoked me."

Viggo sat up and leaned closer to me. "You need this. You need -."

"I don't need this. I left this behind in New Zealand." I shouted. I put my head in my hands and dragged off the odd filter. I could taste the salt of my tears creeping into my mouth.

"You need this, Dom."

Viggo placed a hand on my shoulder and then walked away. Leaving me alone, crying, and still lost.

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