Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Matthew Bellamy never thought he would get tired of touring.

He was wrong.

This was a bloody hellfest of a tour.

He shuffled quietly into the tour bus kitchen and saw Dom sitting in the little kitchen booth, drinking tea and staring out the window. Dom’s black hair nearly matched the shadows under his eyes, and Matt felt a pang of worry. He hadn't seen Dom all day, having spent the morning with the videographer going over some of the concert footage and the early afternoon sleeping. Matt was slightly worried about Dom, who had been quieter since he had broken up with his girlfriend, Elizabeth, after the last show in Colorado. He sat across from him and smiled, then stammered out a joke he'd heard from a roadie a few days ago.

"Why don't we ever play hide and seek with mountains? Because they always peak!" He chuckled weakly, his laugh echoing in the hushed bus. He was met with silence, a deafening noise that threatened to swallow him whole.

“Sorry, that was a lame one. Don’t even know why I said it in the first place. How’s the weather out there, counting cactuses? Or is it cacti? I can never tell, can you?”

He looked over to Dom, hoping to see a hint of a smile. But Dom's gaze was distant, fingers tapping lightly on one of the drumsticks on the table.  Matt's laugh faltered, dissolving into a quiet concern.

"Dom?" he began gently. "Are you--."

"I'm fine, Matt," came the quick reply.

"Is this about what happened with Eliza--,"

"No. I'm fine. I'm not being weird." Dom shook his head and forced a smile. "It was a breakup. We both knew it was coming. Better now, in the U.S. portion of the tour, than in Europe. She was fine. I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Matt asked, his voice full of concern. 

"I just need some time to myself, Matt."His voice was barely a whisper, his eyes refusing to meet Matt's.

Dom looked out the window again, and Matt noticed how incredibly sad he looked. Matt just wanted to help. He hated the thought of Dom being in any kind of pain at all.

Matt sighed, feeling a wave of frustration wash over him. He cared deeply for Dom and wanted nothing more than to comfort him. Yet Dom was pushing him away, putting walls where there should have been open arms. It was infuriating.

"Dom," Matt began, a little more firmly than he'd intended, "I'm not just going to sit by and watch you mope.”

"You can't help me, Matt! Not with this," he snapped. "I said I needed space, and I meant it."

Matt recoiled slightly, stung by the harshness of Dom's words. He hadn't meant to anger him, only to help.  His heart ached, a mix of concern and annoyance swirling within him.

"You can't keep pushing people…me…us… away, Dom. Not everyone is like your father–"

The moment the words slipped out, Matt realized his mistake (he had meant it as not everyone was going to push him away like his father did to him, but it came out more like he was accusing Dom of acting like his father).

“I’m not –” 

"No...Dom wait that's not---" Matt tried but Dom cut him off.

"I am not turning into him . I would never-" Dom stopped as his breath hitched. He stared, the hurt unmistakable in his gray eyes. Then shifted farther away from him, pressing himself up against the wall of the bus.

"Wait-"

"Stop it, Matt. For once in your life, just stop talking. I said I was fine."

Matt felt his frustration hit its peak, a boiling pot of emotions threatening to overspill.

"You don't think I know when you’re lying? Are you daft?" he spat out, his voice echoing around the confined space of the tour bus. "It’s not good, you know-”

“Stop-”

 “--keeping it all bottled up inside like this." His eyes blazed with a fire lit by anger and worry, his hands trembling slightly as they balled into fists. 

“Just tell me what's wrong so I can help–”

“I said stop it!” Dom snapped. His grip on his drumsticks tightened, knuckles white against the polished wood. "No one can help me with this. Especially you. " The room echoed with his words. He glared at Matt, his gray eyes icy. "So just fuck off."

Without another word, Dom stormed (as much as he could in the confined space) out of the cramped kitchen towards his bunk in the back of the tour bus. The drumsticks he had been clutching so tightly a moment ago were tossed aside, clattering loudly against the floor. Matt knew he had to give Dom the space he asked for, but that didn't alleviate the worry gnawing at him. He picked up the abandoned drumsticks, tracing his fingers over the familiar grooves and indentations, hoping against hope that Dom would find the strength to confide in him soon.

888

The tour was an intricate dance of logistics, performed with nearly military-like precision–with the exception of several zeppelin robots that seemed to have developed intelligent enough AI to have a mind of their own. Muse was crisscrossing the United States in their tour bus, a mobile behemoth that served as a home and studio for the summer months. Three months, sixteen venues, ninety-one days on the road cramped together in that blasted tour bus.  The bus would arrive at each location, and then the crew - roadies, techies, and specialists - would start unloading and setting up the massive, complex stage. The stage was a testament to the band’s vision - an architectural wonder of steel and sound, glittering with lights and bristling with amps and speakers.

Once the stage was set, the band would emerge from the bus, ready for rehearsals and the dreaded soundcheck. The latter, to Matt, always seemed to take forever and eat up the majority of his day. Guiding their movements was a stage manager - a man named Mark, who was new to the tour and bore an aura of impatience and arrogance. This wasn’t necessarily towards Matt or any specific person but the AI zeppelins that seemed to be a constant headache amongst the crew. He had a bad habit of taking it out on whoever was closest to him. He would shepherd the band onto the stage, directing them with a sharp tongue and sharper glares, oblivious to the subtleties of their creative process. 

The next tour we are doing, it’s just going to be us. No robots. No smoke machines. Just us and our instruments. Make it simple. Matt thought wearily as he watched the two zeppelins bump into each other–even though they weren't supposed to and heard cursing from the tech booth.

Fuck this tour.

Only eight more shows to go. Only eight more bloody shows to go, and then we go home. Matt thought as he once again played the opening riff to “Plug in Baby,” the same damn seven notes he had been playing for nearly an hour because stupid Mark was busy nitpicking Dom. Again. A zeppelin dreamily floated past Mark, who was turning redder and redder with rage.

The atmosphere, typically filled with creativity, had turned into a tense arena, the air heavy with frustration and exhaustion. Dom looked like he was about to fall apart. Matt knew he had barely been getting any sleep.

"Stop!" Dom finally burst out, his voice hoarse with fatigue. "I need a break."

Mark’s response was immediate. "This isn't a tea party, Dom. We're here to work. Come on, again from measure two," he snapped, leaving no room for argument.

Matt's gaze drifted back to Dom, noting the slight tremor in Dom's hands. He saw the sheen of sweat causing his black hair to stick to his forehead, the dark streaks a stark contrast to his ghostly pallor. Worst of all, the anxiety flickering in Dom's eyes was something he had never seen before.

"Dom, you're not even trying," Mark chastised, his eyes flashing with annoyance. "You're just sitting there, going through the motions. What’s wrong with you today?"

Dom's knuckles whitened around his drumsticks, his breath hitching. "I am trying ," he replied defensively, his voice a low growl.

Mark's suspicions were etched transparently across his face as he stepped closer to Dom, eyes narrowing. "What is it then, huh? Have you been drinking? You're a mess," he accused sharply, voice laced with disgust.

Matt felt a surge of defensive anger for Dom and immediately stepped between them. "He's not drunk, Mark. Back off." Matt's voice was a low growl, eyes blazing with protective fury.

Mark scoffed. "Don't give me that, Bellamy. Look at him—he's absolutely wasted!" He jabbed a finger in Dom's direction, seeming to relish in the confrontation.

"That's rubbish, and you're out of order," Matt countered, his posture rigid with tension. "He's exhausted, can't you see that? Not everything is about being perfect in rehearsals."

"Oh, so now we're making excuses for slacking off? This is a professional gig, in case you haven't noticed!" Mark fired back, his stance mirroring Matt's stubbornness.

Before Matt could retort, a drumstick suddenly cut through their heated exchange, clattering noisily against the stage floor. They both looked towards Dom. The drummer's face was flushed with anger and humiliation, his lips pressed into a tight line.

"I'm right here, you know!" He shouted, his voice filled with exasperation. "I'm not some hapless child that needs to be whispered about!"

With that, Dom hurled the other drumstick at them; it arced high before clattering against the floor. Dom’s eyes blazed with a defiance Matt had never seen before, a mix of hurt, anger, and a quiet sort of desperation that pierced him to the core.

Without another word, Dom turned on his heel, his boots echoing loudly against the stage as he stormed off, leaving a stunned silence in his wake. Matt watched him go, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.

A zeppelin floated down to the stage and collapsed, making a defeated beeping noise as the battery died.

"Dammit, Mark! Look at what you've done!" Matt shot angrily because this was totally all Mark's fault.

"Alright, fine," he groaned, throwing his hands up in surrender. " Go. Just go. Take your break."

The narrow corridors of the venue were empty, and the echo of his footsteps was a grim reminder of Dom's absence. He tried the door leading to the outside, finding it unlocked. The cool evening air hit his face as he stepped out, his eyes scanning the vicinity for any sign of Dom.

"Where did you go?" Matt muttered under his breath.

Matt sprinted down winding streets and through thrumming crowds, his eyes darting around desperately. Then, he caught a glimpse of a painfully familiar figure in a shadowy alleyway – Dom sitting on an old wooden crate. Head leaning against the wall, he let out a puff of smoke, the cigarette balancing delicately between his fingers. His hair stuck up at odd angles, as if it had just recently been tousled, his eyes red and puffy.  

"Dom!" Matt called out to him.

Dom startled and dropped the cigarette on the ground. The smoke wafted around his face and he waved it away impatiently. Observing this gesture, Matt felt the familiar frustration building up inside him as he instinctively wanted to argue against Dom's smoking habit. However, he managed to suppress his words, realizing that engaging in that specific debate would be pointless. It just wasn't the right time.

"Hey," Matt said quietly, "I've been looking for you. Are you alright?"

"I’m fine." Dom said in a gravelly voice, not looking him in the eye. “You don't have to stay. I’m fine, Matt, really. You can go. I just needed some fresh air.”

Matt raised an eyebrow at the still-smoldering cigarette.

"I see," Matt said, nodding towards the discarded cigarette with a smirk. "So that's your idea of fresh air these days?"

Dom sighed in response, averting his gaze. His thin shoulders trembled slightly, and Matt felt his heart drop. He was just trying to lighten the mood, but it was clear that now was not the time.

"Shit. Dom, I’m so–," Matt started,

"It's alright," Dom cut him off, his voice barely a whisper. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand quickly, then brushed some invisible dust off his jeans.

"Just go, Matt," he rasped, turning his face away, trying to hide the evidence of his distress. "I don't...need your help."

"I'm not going anywhere, " Matt replied. "I'm here, and we're going to get through this. Together."

But Matt wasn't convinced. He could see the pain Dom was trying too hard to hide. He took another step forward, lowered himself to sit on another crate beside Dom, and reached to touch his arm. 

"You don't have to do this alone, Dom," he said, his voice soft but unwavering. "I won't let you."

Dom flinched at the contact but didn't pull away. 

"Why?" he whispered, his voice barely audible over the distant city noise. "Why would you help me?"

"Why are you even asking me that? Dom....it's me....  I care about you," Matt replied, slightly hurt that Dom even had to think that for one moment. "You're my friend. And friends don't leave each other when things get tough."

"I'm... I'm sorry, Matt," Dom muttered, his voice barely a whisper.

Matt shook his head, a soft smile playing on his lips. "You've got nothing to apologize for, Dom. And honestly," he continued, his voice dropping to a whisper as a mischievous spark ignited in his eyes, "Mark was being a total fish wanker , wasn't he?"

Dom looked at him, surprise flickering across his face before a soft chuckle escaped him. He leaned his head against Matt's shoulder - a silent admission of his need for comfort.

Matt sighed and fought the urge to wrap his arm around Dom, not wanting to push him too far.

“I suppose he was, wasn't he? Maybe it’s time we fed him to the robots?” Dom suggested, his laugh tickling Matt’s ear. 

Dom was silent for too long as if grappling with whether or not to let Matt in on his struggle."Is there...is there something else you want to talk about?" Matt ventured carefully, breaking the silence, his voice barely above a whisper. He didn't want to push it, but he couldn’t ignore the distress in Dom's demeanor.

"Look, whatever it is, I can help you. Please, let me at least try." Matt asked, hoping Dom would trust him enough to finally, finally open up to him.

Dom let out a heavy sigh, leaning back against the wall and staring blankly at the sky.

"I don't think I can go back there with him…I just…Matt, I can’t.  I know soundcheck is important with those damned robots, but can’t they do it without us just one time? What difference does it really make? They go where they want to go with or without the music," he pleaded, his voice barely audible. There was a terrifying kind of numbness to his tone that sent a shiver down Matt's spine. And the worst thing was Matt couldn't fix it because Dom wasn't telling him. How could he fix something if he didn't know what the problem was, to begin with? Matt chewed his lower lip nervously, his mind whirling with fear and uncertainty. 

"Maybe... maybe we should take a walk," he suggested carefully, his voice almost a whisper. He glanced at Dom, who looked so fragile, so lost. Taking a deep breath, Matt continued, "We could... you know... cool down a little." 

Once again, Dom was quiet for too long before he answered, “I don’t know.”

So they stayed, Matt’s heart aching with fear, concern, and a strange kind of love that he couldn't quite understand.

Matt watched Dom's gaze unfocused, his deep-set eyes staring off into the distance. Something seemed to shift within his friend, as though he was not in the confines of the alleyway but somewhere far away. It was unlike anything Matt had ever seen in him before, and it filled him with a cold, creeping dread.

"Remember... remember that day we went to the beach?" Dom's voice was soft, barely above a whisper, and his words seemed to hang heavily in the air. Matt could see his fingers twitching. His lips pressed tightly together as though he was hunting for the right words. "It was... it was so hot, and you kept complaining that your ice cream was melting too fast."

Matt nodded, trying to recall the memory. They had been so young. He remembered how the sand had felt beneath his feet, the salt in the air, the squawking of the seagulls overhead. But there was something lurking beneath the surface of Dom's words, a hidden pain that Matt couldn't quite decipher.

"Yeah, I remember," Matt replied softly, forcing a small smile onto his face. "You kept laughing at me, saying I should've chosen a cup instead of a cone."

Dom gave a small nod, his gaze still fixed on some distant point. "Yeah... yeah, I did."

They fell into silence, the echoes of their past hanging between them. Matt felt a lump forming in his throat, his heart aching, longing for simpler times. Times before fame, before the tours, before the complex emotions that now seemed to weave themselves into every moment they shared. Matt wanted to reach out, to understand the turmoil etching lines of worry onto Dom's face, but he felt lost without a compass, like navigating without a map.

"Anyway," Dom mumbled, "I just... I just wanted to remember... something good... you know? You were always good at making me laugh….and feel better….” he gave Matt a small, crooked smile. “...are still good at it."

Matt nodded, his gaze softening. "Yeah, Dom," he murmured, "I know."

Matt swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest. He hesitated, not quite sure how to navigate the fragile situation. Finally, he reached out, placing a comforting hand over Dom’s.

Dom shifted uncomfortably, a barely perceptible movement, yet it felt massive to Matt. The warmth that had momentarily flickered in the small space between them seemed to vanish, and Dom seemed to shrink into himself, creating an invisible barrier Matt so desperately wanted to cross. It was like he was–

"I knew I'd find you two here."

Both of them turned in surprise to find Chris standing there, his eyes tired yet determined. "Well, not in an alleyway, but someplace close by," he said softly, his voice barely more than a murmur.

He gave a small sad smile as he walked towards them, removing his jacket and draping it around Dom's shoulders.

"Mark was being an arsehole back there. I just managed to escape," he quipped, attempting to lighten the mood.

Chris lowered himself slowly, his back resting against the cold brick wall opposite Dom. His gaze never left Dom's face. The corners of his eyes crinkled with worry.  He paused, his next words heavy with guilt. "I'm sorry he pushed you, Dom. I should have said something."

"Matt...Chris...," Dom finally managed to say, the words cracking as they passed his lips, "this isn't your fault. I'm just...I'm being stupid, ridiculous..."

Matt and Chris exchanged a helpless glance. 

"Dom," Matt started, his voice shaky but determined, "this isn't silly. You're not being ridiculous. This is... it's a lot for anyone to handle."

The tension in the air was getting thick again, and Matt felt a sudden urge to break it. He leaned back, a small sparkle of mischief in his eyes. "You know what we need?" he said, a grin spreading across his face. "We need some good, old-fashioned stargazing. Just like we used to when we were kids, remember?"

Dom's expression softened, a hint of curiosity breaking through the apprehensiveness. "Stargazing? Here? It’s not even night yet."

Matt nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, why not? We’re outside, ‘kay, it's not exactly the same without a field or a rooftop, and it might be a tad early… but come on, let's give it a shot." He gestured upward ... .at the still blue sky where the sun was just barely setting.

Chris chuckled, stood up, and dusted off his jeans. "He's right, Dom. Sometimes, you just need to look at something bigger than us, you know?"

Reluctantly, Dom craned his neck towards the sliver of sky visible between the towering buildings. 

"There," Matt said, pointing upward at what he was pretty sure was an airplane, but to make Dom feel better (and distract him) he pretended it was a star. "We're all under the same sky, no matter where we go. It's... comforting, isn't it?"

A small smile crept onto Dom's face, and for a moment, the weight of the world seemed just a little lighter on his shoulders.

"Yeah, it is," he agreed, and the three of them sat there, finding solace in the quiet company of each other.

“Are you going to make a wish?” Matt asked Dom, giving him a small smile.

“What?”

“On the star?” Matt pointed upwards at the twinkling light.

“On the star?” Dom repeated, giving Matt an incredulous look. “What are we, like twelve?”

“Oh go on, just for fun. Make a wish.”

“Alright….”

Matt watched as Dom closed his eyes, exhaling softly. His features softened for a moment, and it was as if–

Chris' phone buzzed, breaking the silence and causing Dom to startle. Chris glanced at the screen and snorted.

"Well, the robots haven't eaten Mark yet. Damn it.” He cleared his throat and began to read out the text in an exaggerated Texan accent. “Wrapped up sound check. Be here by 8pm. Do try to sober yourselves up by then.” He rolled his eyes, “ Thanks, mum ," his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Dom's voice barely rose above a whisper, frayed at the edges with a vulnerability that tugged at Matt's heart. "I don't want to go back," he confessed, his gaze locked up at the sky as if it were his only anchor.

"Okay," Matt simply said, his hand instinctively reaching out to offer comfort before remembering and pulling back. "Let's just...let's just sit here for a while longer, okay?"

Dom simply nodded, his gaze unfocused. 

"Just eight more shows, Dom," Matt reassured, his voice gentle. "We're down to single digits now."

For a moment, Dom said nothing, his face unreadable. Then he nodded, giving Matt a small, forced smile. "Right. Eight more shows."

As Dom's words echoed in the silence, Matt felt worried. But he quickly pushed it aside, focusing instead on the task ahead. After all, they were so close, and they just had to keep going for themselves and each other.

Chapter Text

The next day, in the next nameless midwest city, Matt steeled himself, buttoning up his jacket against the biting wind. The city outside was bustling with life, but he felt a sense of loneliness that mirrored the unexpected cold weather….it was July! America was supposed to be hot in the summer. Why was it raining? Determined, he launched himself into the throng of people, keeping a keen eye out for a particular bakery. This specific city was blessed with Muse performing back-to-back shows, so instead of sleeping on the tour bus on the road, they spent the night in a posh hotel next to the venue.

Matt was on a mission-a very important mission to find strawberry jam tarts and bring them back to the hotel. There was a single bakery in this nameless city that claimed to be an expert on British pastries, so he was braving the rain to go find Mrs. Liggins's Homemade Biscuits and Pies on Arrow Street. 

After some searching, he found the small bakery tucked away in an alley. The warm, inviting glow from the windows instantly stirred up a sense of nostalgia. Though a world away from home, the bakery felt so very British. The smell of freshly baked bread and sweet pastries wafted, drawing him in.

Inside was a cozy, intimate space filled with the sounds of quiet chatter and the steady hum of the oven. On display were all manner of British treats. His gaze landed on the jam tarts - Dom's favorite. He could remember seeing Dom's face light up as a child whenever his mother baked them. A pang of hope stirred in him as he purchased a baker’s dozen tarts.

Matt returned to the hotel with the precious package safely tucked away. He knocked on Dom's door lightly. 

"Dom, it's me," he called out. Silence greeted him, and he knocked again. "Can I come in?"

After a moment, the door creaked open, revealing a tired-looking Dom.

 "What is it, Matt?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I...I brought something for you," Matt said, opening the bakery box and revealing the jam tarts. I thought these might cheer you up."

Dom stared at the tarts, and a small smile touched his lips, the first genuine one Matt had seen in days. 

"Thank you, Matt," he said quietly, taking the tarts with a shaky hand. The sight gave Matt a glimmer of hope, a small sign that maybe things would get better.

Dom motioned Matt inside. “Come in, Matt. Let's have these with some tea." Matt hesitated for a moment before stepping into the dimly lit hotel room.

"Sit." Dom gestured to an empty chair near a small coffee table.

As Dom moved towards the tiny kitchenette to prepare the tea, Matt took a seat, his gaze following Dom. He couldn't help but notice how Dom's slender hands trembled slightly as he fumbled with the tea bags and kettle. He didn't mention it, choosing instead to break the uneasy silence. "Those robots have been nothing but trouble, haven’t they?"

Dom let out a light chuckle. "Tell me about it. It's like they've developed a mind of their own." He continued speaking, pouring hot water into two mugs. His back was turned to Matt, but Matt could hear the strain in his voice.

Tea ready, Dom ambled back to the table, placing a steaming mug in front of them. He perched on the edge of his seat, carefully peeling the wrapping from his tart. "These look really good, Matt. Thanks for bringing them. Cheers."

Matt watched as Dom took a tentative bite, his eyes lighting up just as they used to. For a moment, it felt like old times. It was a small reprieve from the heavy cloud that had loomed over them for weeks. Matt took a sip of his tea, warmth spreading through him. It wasn't just the tea but the sense of familiarity, the shared memory. It was them, together, finding comfort in each other's presence amidst all the chaos.

Dom took another bite of the tart, then turned to Matt. 

"You know, Matt," he began, his voice barely more than a whisper, "I want to thank you." Matt looked at him, eyebrows knitted in confusion, and Dom continued, "For being here, for being...you." He paused, and his gaze showed so much sincerity that Matt felt a lump forming in his throat. 

"I don’t know how I would have gotten this far through the tour without you, always trying to make me smile. You've been a good friend to me. Better than I could've ever hoped for. Especially through all this...chaos…I… appreciate you." Dom gestured vaguely around him, the subtle tremble in his hand more pronounced now. But he was smiling – and Matt returned it, swallowing past the lump in his throat. His heart felt heavy yet oddly light, and in that moment, he knew. 

He was in love with Dom.

This revelation was hard-hitting, an unexpected twist in the already convoluted symphony of his life. He probably had always known he loved Dom, but this just confirmed it. He would do anything for him. BUT (there was always a but …stupid buts) Matt had no idea how Dom felt about him in this context, no inkling of his reciprocation or lack thereof. Dom, always so private and guarded, had never explicitly expressed his sexuality. Matt was left to decipher subtle clues, trying to piece together an unsolvable puzzle. He found himself studying Dom's every move, every word, every glance, searching for indications that might hint at his feelings. But the uncertainty gnawed at him, the unknown casting a long, dark shadow over the flicker of hope that had sparked in his heart.

Matt's eyes casually drifted to a book on the table, an old backstage pass used as a bookmark in the middle of the book. “Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe ”, he read aloud. 

Dom's reaction was immediate. His cheeks turned a vibrant shade of red, and he fumbled, his hand knocking over the cup of tea on the table.

"Oh, bloody hell," Dom mumbled, his gaze fixing on the spilled liquid spreading across the table rather than meeting Matt's eyes. 

“That’s just uh…it was already here.  I…I found it already…. shit ….” Dom stuttered as he dropped the mug off the floor. It bounced lightly on the carpet. Dom bent over to pick it up. “I mean, I haven’t seen that book—” 

Bang!

“Fuck!”

Dom had hit his head on the table while bending over to pick up the mug. 

“Easy, love. It’s alright, ” Matt said as he reached over and gently took hold of both of Dom’s wrists, steadying him and guiding him back to his seat. He reached for a napkin to help clean the spilled tea. "There's no need for all that. Books are the gateways to numerous worlds. One's reading taste can't be a subject for embarrassment."

Dom looked up at him then, his eyes apprehensive. He pulled his hands away from his grasp, and Matt let go. 

Matt offered him a comforting smile, hoping to alleviate his friend's unease. "Really, Dom," he continued, "it's just a book." 

There was silence as Dom considered his words, his gaze flickering between Matt's eyes and the book on the table. And then Dom had that look again, the one that Matt had become all too familiar with, the one where he desperately wanted to tell Matt something but was holding himself back.

Matt decided to try again. Maybe this time, Dom would trust him enough actually to tell him. He met Dom's uncertain gaze squarely. He took a deep breath, his hand resting on the table between them. 

"Dom," he started, his tone warm yet firm. "I want you to know that you can tell me anything. Anything at all." He noticed Dom's hands balling into tight fists, his knuckles turning white. "I'm here for you," Matt continued, hoping his voice was a steady anchor for Dom. "No matter what. You've got to believe that."

A flicker of emotion passed over Dom's face — surprise, doubt, maybe even a spark of hope. He stuttered, his tongue tripping over words he seemed unable to form. 

"I...I...," he stammered, his gaze dropping to the table, his hands uncurling and curling back into fists. But no more words came. Dom shook his head. His face took on a grim expression, as if he were fighting a war within himself.

“I’m sorry.”

"You don't have anything to apologize for. Take your time, Dom," Matt said, his voice barely a whisper. "And when you're ready to talk, I'm here." He hoped, more than anything, that Dom believed him.

“Okay.”

There was a stretch of silence. Dom picked out another teabag; Matt refilled his mug of tea and offered him another tart. He took one and nibbled the corner. Sensing the need to change the subject, Matt gestured towards the book. "What's that one about?"

Dom was silent for a moment; he exhaled softly, then smiled, his eyes gleaming excitedly. 

"It's about these two…well…there are these two ummm… Aristotle and Dante, and their …uh… friendship. There's just something…something about how it’s written… that makes you want to delve deeper into their world." 

Dom's enthusiasm was infectious, his words flowing like a passionate river. Seeing Dom so animated and expressive, Matt could not help but feel a sense of relief wash over him. 

Matt couldn't help but mirror his friend's smile with one of his own. "You really love it, don't you?" he asked, a soft chuckle escaping him.

Dom gave a hearty nod, his eyes now fixed on the book on the table, his thoughts clearly miles away. "Yeah, I do. It's like a mirror and a window at the same time, you know?" 

"I'm glad you found something you love, " Matt said, smiling.

“I was never able to read much growing up. I mean, you saw what my parents were like. They were pretty strict. School and everything kept me busy. It’s nice, though, now. To read….” Dom trailed off momentarily, fingers tapping the table, then looked up at Matt. "Do you remember that book we read in school for English Literature? I don't remember what year, maybe 11 or 12?" He paused, his voice barely more than a whisper. "The Picture of Dorian Grey ."

He glanced at Matt, his gray eyes glinting with the ghost of a memory. "I was fascinated by it." A bitter laugh escaped him. "Of course, my father didn't see it that way. He tried to get the school to take it off the curriculum."

Matt listened intently, every word Dom spoke etching deeper into his heart. He could see the pain in Dom's eyes, a pain he wished he could take away. Dom's face clouded over as he delved further into the memory, his fingers flexing around the edge of his shirt sleeve.

"My father said the most awful things about that book, about the characters' lifestyle..." His voice trailed off, the hurt in his eyes reflecting a deep-seated pain. "And for feeling the way they felt..." Dom's voice was almost inaudible now, lost amidst the overwhelming waves of his past. Dom's gaze flickered up to meet Matt's-a silent plea in his eyes that echoed louder than any words would have. Silence filled the room once again. 

Matt was at a loss for words. He couldn't remember what book Dom was talking about for the life of him. Much of his school reading had become jumbled into one big blur in his mind, and he still had difficulty distinguishing one British novelist from another.  Finally, he managed to say, "I'm... I'm really sorry you had to go through that." Dom looked away, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes that Matt had never seen before. 

"It's all in the past, Matt," he mumbled, a distinct aloofness edging into his voice. Matt watched him closely, his heart aching at his friend's discomfort.

"Dom..." Matt's voice trailed off, uncertainty gnawing at him. He searched for the right words, his gaze never leaving Dom. "I know I must sound like a broken record by now, but I want you to know I’m here for you no matter what. If you want to grow a mustache or dye your hair blue. I’m down. I mean it. Anything." His voice was soft, and encouraging, but he could see the walls going up around Dom again. 

“Or….” Matt tried to think of the stupidest thing possible. “If you want to…. quit the band, move to the Arctic, and become a penguin penis scientist, I support you.” 

Dom raised his eyebrows, and let out a small laugh. “Penguins don't live in the Arctic, you doofus.”

“Okay…Move to Antarctica and become….….a Northern Marine Reproductive System Ornithologist?”

“That sounds much better, more scientific. I’ll have that one saved for my resume,” Dom replied. He laughed again and sipped his tea. 

“You have quite the impressive one already, Dominic Howard, Drummer for Muse,” Matt said, nudging Dom’s foot playfully under the table. Dom smiled, not quite meeting Matt’s gaze. He was quiet for a moment.

 “You know,” he started, and Matt leaned in, eager to listen. I always wondered how they don't get it frozen to the ice when they are sliding around on icebergs,” Dom asked with a small chuckle accompanying his musing.

 "I think they keep it tucked up there in their feathers. Or maybe it retracts?" he answered thoughtfully. He could see Dom's attempt to steer away the conversation from his secrets that he wasn't ready to reveal (because he would rather talk about penguin penises than tell Matt what was bothering him), so he decided to let it go for now. 

"It could be a possibility…" he continued, allowing Dom to guide the conversation, but not before making a silent promise to himself to be there whenever Dom was ready to open up to him.

Their playful banter flowed like a gentle stream, washing away the tension. Matt's gaze stayed on Dom, worry tucked away in the corners. His friend's laughter was music to his ears, yet his heart knew the tune was off-key.

"By the way," Dom said, abruptly changing the subject again—a surefire sign that he wanted to avoid dwelling too long on difficult memories.

"Did I show you my new Star Wars mug? It’s got Yoda on it, and the color changes with heat! Isn’t that cool?" Matt just chuckled at this, shaking his head fondly.

"No, Dom. You haven’t shown me yet," he replied, following Dom's diverting tactic. A soft sigh escaped him as he saw his friend trying so hard to hide from his own feelings. Dom was hiding something, and Matt knew it. He wanted to help him, to break down the walls built up around his friend’s heart, but now was not the time.

As the afternoon faded away, they found themselves alone in Dom's little hotel room, their friendship hanging heavy in the silent spaces. The laughter and the jokes were just a way to fill those silences. But they had to end. They always did. Dom became still as if lost in his own thoughts. 

As if sensing Matt's gaze on him, Dom broke the silence. "I...I need to figure things out, Matt."

Matt's heart tightened at the pain in Dom's voice. He nodded even though it tore him apart inside. He wished he could reach out and erase all the hurt, but he knew that was something only Dom could do.

"I'll be here," Matt promised quietly, hoping that one day things would be easier for them both.

Dom managed a small smile. “You know,” he began, his voice quiet yet steady in the dim room, “I really appreciate you, Matt. For everything.”

Unsure of how to respond, Matt nodded silently, touched by his friend's sincerity.

"Being here with you," Dom continued. "It helps…"

Matt swallowed hard against the lump forming in his throat. He could see Dom's struggle reflecting in every word spoken. He reached out tentatively toward Dom, hesitating midway when he noticed him tensing slightly under his gaze.

"I'm always here for you," he promised softly, withdrawing his hand and placing it back in his lap.

Dom nodded silently, offering a tight-lipped smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I know.”

Matt was writing in his journal at the small table in the tour bus kitchen, the dim overhead light casting long shadows over his furrowed brow. They were barreling along in the midwest, headed cross country from Kansas to Iowa, Idaho, Illinois, or elsewhere. Matt was never good with U.S. geography. The bus was silent, all its other inhabitants asleep. But sleep was a luxury Matt couldn't afford, not with the weight of worry pressing hard on his mind. The tour itself, with the robots malfunctioning every other second, the rotating stage not rotating, and Mark being an arsehole, was completely overwhelming.  The scratching of the pen against paper was his only company, a haunting melody to his solitude. His gaze frequently shifted towards the hallway where he knew Dom was sleeping, a silent plea for his friend to come to the kitchen to finally talk to him. Like they used to in the early days, they sometimes sat up and talked all night. He missed that. He missed being friends with Dom like they used to be. The memory of an earlier incident gnawed Matt's peace, as memories often do late at night. 

He had asked Dom a mere question about their upcoming gig, the words innocent and innocuous; "Dom, what’s the rotation song for tomorrow's show?" 

But Dom flinched and turned on his heel sharply. His light grey eyes darkened under furrowed brows. 

"I don’t know! Ask Chris. Why do you always have so many questions, Matt?" he snapped, his tone drenched with uncharacteristic sarcasm. It was so unlike Dom to react like that.

The biting retort hung like a harsh winter chill, causing a lump in Matt's throat as he watched Dom storm off, leaving him alone. Dom was distancing himself from Matt, and he had no idea why. It was as if Dom was afraid to be around him now. The echo of Dom's bitter words reverberated in the bus's silence, stinging Matt again. The memory darkened his mood further, and the concern for Dom pooled in his heart like a lead weight.

Matt leaned back against the cushions, his gaze losing itself in the rhythm of the passing moonlit landscapes outside the bus window. His thoughts wandered back to the remnants of Dom's relationship with Elizabeth. It had been a union that had seemed perfect on the outside but, in reality, had been anything but. Matt had seen the growing chasm between them, their shared smiles unable to mask the unhappiness in their eyes.

"Dom, mate, are you... are you happy with Elizabeth?" Matt had dared to ask one night when the weight of the unspoken had become too heavy.

Dom had tensed at the question, his gaze glued to the whiskey glass in his hand. He had chuckled, but the laughter had been hollow, devoid of genuine mirth. 

"Why wouldn't I be, Matt?" he had retorted, but his eyes - those expressive grey eyes - had given him away. The pain was evident, a silent affirmation of the truth Matt had dreaded.

And despite Dom's defensive facade, Matt had seen through him. He had seen the shadow of sadness that Elizabeth cast over Dom, the way his laughter fell flat, and the flicker of relief in his eyes when they both had ended the relationship. The memory of that day was vivid in Matt's mind. It made him wonder why Dom had shackled himself to a relationship that brought him more pain than joy.

Maybe….Matt thought, maybe… just maybe Dom had been trying to conform to what he thought was expected of him. Was the societal norms and the fear of acceptance eating Dom inside out? Just as Matt was contemplating Dom and his complicated relationship history, a strangled yell from down the small hallway fractured his train of thought. The sound was raw and guttural, a desperate plea that snapped Matt out of his musings and propelled him into action. He was on his feet instantly, the metallic floor of the bus cold against his bare feet.

As he approached Dom's bunk, the soft glow of the overhead LED lights illuminated his friend's face, twisted in torment, with beads of perspiration coating his forehead. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Matt lightly shook Dom, but his friend thrashed in his sleep, letting out a low whimper.  "Dom," Matt tried, aware of the others sleeping, his hand firmer on Dom's shoulder. He watched as Dom's eyelashes fluttered; his hands clenched and unclenched as if desperate to hold on to something.

Finally, Dom's eyes snapped open. They were wild, unfocused, glinting with remnants of a terror that still gripped him. He looked at Matt, his gaze lost and confused. 

"It's okay, Dom. You're safe. It was just a nightmare."

Matt gently laid a hand on Dom's arm, aiming to offer some comfort. Dom jerked his arm away with a sharp intake of breath. His eyes darted from Matt's gaze, refusing to meet the concern they held. 

Matt’s hand hovered in the air briefly before slowly retreating, respecting Dom's unspoken plea for space.

 "Easy, love. How can I help?" he asked gently, the words hanging heavily between them.

"I’m fine. Go back to sleep. It was just a nightmare. I’m fine. I’ll be fine," Dom managed to stammer out, half to Matt and a half to himself as if the confirmation might somehow dilute the fear that still held him captive. Matt watched him, his gaze softening with concern and determination. He felt a tug of helplessness but pushed it down, resolving to offer Dom comfort. 

"I know, Dom," Matt responded, his voice a soothing murmur in the quiet bus. His hand hovered near Dom's, close but not quite touching.

His eyes never left Dom's face, studying the pale features far too strained for his liking. 

"Nightmares can be... overwhelming," he acknowledged softly, choosing his words carefully. Matt remembered his own terrors, the cold sweat, and the paralyzing fear. "But they're not real, Dom." His voice was steady and reassuring, a rock in the turbulent sea that was Dom's current state. "And you're not alone. I’ve had plenty myself. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Please, let me help." The last words hung heavy in the air - a promise and a plea, all wrapped together.

A shiver ran through Dom, causing Matt's heart to twinge. He didn't want to push but knew he couldn't let Dom pull himself back into his shell. Silence hung between them like a thick fog, yet Matt broke it. 

"How about we have some tea?" Matt suggested. He watched Dom's face closely, trying to gauge his response. Matt remembered how his mum made peppermint tea whenever he had nightmares. The warm, soothing drink seemed to ease his distress and coax him back to sleep.

Dom nodded. “Alright.”

Matt moved carefully towards the small kitchen. With practiced motions, he filled the kettle and lit the burner, the familiar hiss of gas and the soft glow of the flame providing a mundane comfort. As the water heated, he rummaged through their stash of tea bags, finally pulling out one labeled 'peppermint'. The aroma of the tea, even before brewing, was soothing, and he hoped it would have the same effect on Dom.

Dom entered the kitchen, his bare feet padding softly on the cold bus floor as he walked to the small table. His movements were slow and hesitant. His body wracked with an occasional shiver that Matt couldn't help but notice.

As he waited for the water to boil, he turned back to Dom, his concern evident.

 "My mum used to make this for me when I had nightmares," Matt confessed, his words laced with a wistful nostalgia. He held Dom's gaze and gave a small, reassuring smile. "Always made me feel better."

Matt turned from the stove, a steaming mug in his hands. The smell of peppermint filled the small space, twining with the lingering sense of unease. He handed the mug to Dom, their fingers brushing in the exchange. The touch was fleeting, but Matt held onto it, a small tether in the storm.

"Here," Matt said, his voice softer now. "Drink this. It'll help."

Dom accepted the mug, his fingers curling around it, drawing comfort from the warmth. He breathed in the steam, his eyes closing slightly at the soothing smell.

Matt watched him, a knot of worry tightening in his chest. He knew he had to tread carefully. This was delicate ground they were stepping on.

"Dom," Matt began, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside him, "Your nightmares...do you want to talk about them? It might help, sharing them."

His words hung in the air, inviting Dom to share his burden and let Matt in. He waited, watching Dom take a small sip of his tea, hoping Dom would finally break his silence.

Dom took a deep breath, his gaze distant, lost in another time. Matt watched him, heart pounding in anticipation. He wanted to reach out and offer comfort, but he held back, giving Dom the needed space.

"Do you remember that night I showed up at your house when we were kids?" Dom's voice was quiet, barely audible over the bus's hum. His fingers were clenched tightly around the mug, his knuckles white. "It was pouring rain... and I had forgotten my jacket."

Matt's mind cast back, remembering. It had been a stormy night, the rain pounding heavily against the windows. He had been startled by the sudden knocking on the door, opening it to find a drenched and trembling Dom on his doorstep.

"I remember," Matt said, his voice soft. You were soaked, and you had this look in your eyes—like you had seen a ghost."

Dom's gaze flickered to Matt, a small, sad smile on his lips. "Yeah... something like that." He looked away again, his grip on the mug relaxing slightly.

Matt remembered how he had brought Dom inside, giving him a dry shirt and a warm blanket. He remembered Dom sitting quietly on the couch, staring at nothing, his body shaking as if he were cold. But Matt had known then that it wasn't the chill making Dom shake.

"I didn't ask you about it then," Matt said, his throat tight with emotions. "But I always wondered... What happened, Dom?"

Dom remained silent for a long time. "I just needed a safe place," he answered, his voice barely a whisper. And your house... it was always safe."

Matt felt a lump in his throat and an ache in his heart. He wished he could have done more back then. But all he could do now was listen and show Dom that he was not alone and never had to be.

Matt watched as Dom wrestled with his thoughts, his grip on the mug tightening again. After a moment, he took a deep breath and looked back at Matt, his gray eyes glistening with unshed tears. 

"You... you make me feel safe, Matt," he admitted, his voice hoarse. "I know I don't always show it... I know I can be a real jerk sometimes. But I... I want you to know that... that it's not about you. It's about me and my... my fucked-up head." His words tumbled out in a rush as if he were afraid he would lose his nerve if he didn't say them quickly enough. "I wish I could show you more... show you just how much you mean to me. But I... I'm not... I'm not very good at... at this." He rambled, his words trailing off into a whisper. There was a moment of silence, and then he abruptly stood up, almost knocking over his mug in his haste. "I... I should probably get back to sleep," he muttered, avoiding Matt's gaze. "I... I...feel better, I really do...thanks...Matt."

🌸A sudden panic welled up in Matt at Dom's words, the blurted confession, and the hasty retreat. Too many emotions were ricocheting around at that moment, and too many thoughts were crowding his mind.

"Dom, wait," Matt managed, rising from his seat. He reached out, capturing Dom's wrist in a soft hold. It wasn't much, but it was a connection. Maybe a lifeline.

His touch halted Dom in his tracks, but he didn't turn around. His body was tense under Matt's grasp, like a deer caught in headlights.

"Hey," Matt said softly, trying to keep his voice steady. "You don't have to run away from this. We're friends, right? We can talk about anything."

Dom remained silent momentarily before nodding slowly, still not turning to face him.

"We are," his quiet admission trickled out. And...and yeah... we can."

Dom gently pulled his hand away from Matt's grip and turned back towards him. "I'm…." he whispered…"I...I've been scared for so long…"

His voice was just above a whisper, sending a pang of empathy through Matt's heart. He wanted to reach out, pull Dom into his arms, and assure him that everything would be okay. But he knew Dom needed space.

"I know," Matt said softly, nodding at Dom's quiet confession. "I can see it, Dom. I can see how scared you are. And I just want to let you know that you don’t have to be, and... you're not alone."

Dom looked at him then, really looked at him. There was a vulnerability in his gaze that Matt had never seen before, and it made his heart clench in his chest.

"Matt..." Dom began, his voice shaky. "I...I.. can't... "

His voice trailed off, the words dying on his lips. His eyes, previously locked with Matt's, dropped to the floor as if it was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world.

Matt stood there watching Dom's hunched shoulders, feeling helpless. He wanted to comfort and reassure him and make everything okay again. But how could he do that when he didn't know what was wrong?

"It's okay," Matt eventually said, breaking the silence between them. You don't have to say anything you're uncomfortable with."

Dom's shoulders relaxed ever so slightly at his words. He nodded again, taking a shaky breath.

"I...I just..." A pause. A series of deep breaths. "I just need some time," he finally stammered out.

A wave of relief washed over Matt. Dom needed time, and Matt could give him that - all the time in the world if needed.

"Take all the time you need," Matt said gently. "I'm here for you, Dom."

A soft sigh escaped Dom's lips at his words, and he finally looked up to meet Matt's gaze again.

"Thanks, Matt," he murmured, offering a slightly shaky smile.

"No problem," Matt replied, returning the smile with one of his own, albeit a little more wobbly than he would've liked.

With that, Dom turned around and headed back towards his bunk, leaving Matt alone in the semi-darkness of the tour bus kitchen.

Matt was left staring at the space where Dom had been sitting seconds ago, his heart pounding in his chest. Matt knew Dom well enough by now. When Dom said he needed space, he truly needed it. It wasn't a dismissal, nor an act of pushing Matt away, but a genuine need for time to process his storm of emotions. Matt understood this - the internal turmoil that Dom was grappling with was immense, and space could often provide the solace needed to navigate such tumultuous feelings. So, Matt decided to wait. When Dom was ready to return, he would provide support, comfort, or just a listening ear. Because that's what friends did, a voice that sounded very much like Chris rang out in Matt’s head - they waited and understood and remained constant, especially when everything else seemed uncertain.

Chapter Text

"Why on earth would someone feel compelled to create a gigantic potato bug statue?" Matt mumbled to himself, gazing up at the bewildering spectacle before him.

Currently, they were in the middle of nowhere. A place between two states that Matt had long forgotten, Chris had said something about being near Texas but Matt hadn't really been paying attention. The lone one-lane highway stretched before them across the empty desert leaving a desolate feeling of isolation. The tour bus sat sadly on the side of the road, an unexpected mechanical failure having brought the entire tour to a halt. The crew was huddled over the engine, their grime-streaked faces etched with concentration as they deliberated over the smorgasbord of tangled wires and metal.

Dom ambled up beside Matt, his gaze following the towering insect. He let out a half-hearted chuckle. "I guess everyone needs to leave their mark on the world somehow, right?" The line was delivered with an awkward shrug, a bare-bones attempt to skirt around the depth of his thoughts.

Matt half-smiled. "Hey, Dom, let's step away for a bit to clear our heads," he suggested, inviting more than just a change of scenery, seeing the opportunity before them. The secluded vastness offering a private cocoon away from everyone else. Maybe, just maybe this would allow Dom to actually speak to Matt about what was on his mind. Then I can finally help him, Matt thought, almost desperately.  He watched as Dom's eyebrows knitted together hesitantly, yet he nodded. As they walked, the atmosphere between them felt charged, a current of unspoken understanding pulling them into a mutual orbit.

They stepped away from the group. Silence surrounded them, broken only by the crunch of gravel underfoot. Matt couldn't help but notice how Dom's posture, with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, seemed just like he was barricading himself within a physical fortress. An intuitive ache nudged Matt, the visual metaphor of Dom's posture not lost on him — it spoke of battles waged silently within.

Dom suddenly stopped, nearly causing Matt to step on his heels. Matt watched, heart hammering against his ribs, as Dom turned with a vulnerability that struck him to the core. He saw the hesitation dancing in Dom's eyes, the battle with inner demons practically audible in the quiet air.

"Matt..." Dom's voice was a mere whisper, and he swallowed hard, struggling to find his words. "Can I—I mean, would it be okay if... If I asked you something?" His question stuttered out amidst nervous breaths, hung suspended; momentarily, the world seemed motionless around them.

Matt's heart skipped each time Dom stuttered. "Of course, Dom," he said, his voice striving for an evenness he didn't quite feel. “You can ask me anything, you know that." He stepped a little closer, closing the physical space as an offering for Dom to close the emotional distance between them.

Dom shifted from one foot to another, hands fumbling with the hem of his sleeve as he mustered the courage to voice his question. "Did it... was it liberating when you came out? Or just terrifying?" he managed, his words fringed with unspoken fears.

Matt's eyes softened, a shimmer of reminiscence passing through them as he reflected on the watershed moment of his own life. "It was a bit of both, to be honest," he replied, his throat tight with the gravity of the memory. "It felt like I was stepping off a cliff, not knowing if I'd fly or fall. But I could finally breathe when I finally said the words aloud."

Matt reached out, a gentle offer of support, but stopped short, respecting Dom's boundaries. He noted Dom's shallow breaths, the way the questions seemed to pour from a space of deep vulnerability.  He paused, a smile touching his lips. "Does... does that help, Dom?"

Dom remained silent, the weight of his thoughts cementing him in place so profoundly that he seemed to collapse inwardly. He sank slowly until he was seated on a boulder that jutted out from the earth like an offering. His gaze fell away from Matt's earnest eyes, settling on the ground between them while his hands worked nervously at the rough texture of the stone beneath him.

Matt watched, the soft wind playing with the edges of his jacket, but the softness of Dom's following words demanded his full attention. The question was so faint it nearly faded into the breeze. "How did others react when you told them?"

Matt lowered himself to Dom's level, his shoulder brushing against Dom’s,  bridging the gap between them. "They were as varied as the stars," Matt admitted with a gentle honesty. "Some were cool about it like I'd just told them about a new song I liked. Others... didn't understand it, and it changed things."

He paused, his voice dipping as he shared the truth of his experience. "But the people who truly mattered, they stayed."

Dom shivered, pulling his jacket tighter around him as if the thin fabric could shield him from more than the evening chill. His eyes darted away. The vulnerability that flickered there swiftly shuttered behind a veil of forced lightness.

Carefully, very carefully, Matt reached out, his fingers lightly brushing against Dom's hand. It was a tentative gesture and a silent plea for trust. For a heartbeat, he hoped beyond hope that this would be when barriers fell, and words would bridge the chasm between them. But as quickly as it happened, Dom's hand twitched away, and Matt felt the rejection sting more sharply than expected.

He watched as Dom turned his gaze towards the distant silhouette of their tour bus, still marooned by mechanical failure. 

Matt's voice was delicately laced with concern when he spoke, "Dom…I... are you okay?"

Dom's gray eyes, those deep wells of secrets, stayed fixed on the vehicle, but the tightness at his jaw betrayed a conflict raging beneath. With a fragile attempt at a smile, he murmured, "Yeah, just thinking about the mess with the bus."

"We'll get it sorted," Matt reassured, his tone gentle. "But I meant... are you okay with... everything else?" The distance in Dom's eyes tugged at something in Matt's chest, a desire to comfort, to heal.

Matt noted how the evening breeze toyed with Dom's black hair, sweeping it across his forehead, eyes obscured and then revealed in a rhythmic dance. He fought an urge to reach out, to smooth back the unruly strands, an intimacy he craved yet resisted. It wasn't his place, not yet. A painful lull stretched out between them as Dom retreated into silence, his fortress of solitude that Matt yearned to breach with gentle words. Finally, Dom gave him the faintest nod, acknowledging the heavy question in the air. Yet the silence that followed spoke volumes more than spoken words could ever convey.

Dom let out a soft sigh and, without a word, leaned into Matt's side, shivering ever so slightly against the growing chill of the evening. His breath was shaky, a whisper so brittle it threatened to break apart before reaching Matt's ears.

"This... it's hard for me. I wish I could just—" His voice trailed into a tremble that resonated deeply in the silence enveloped them. "I can’t …" Dom started again, his voice a mere whisper against the quiet backdrop of the dusky evening. He shook his head lightly, frustration evident in the tight lines that formed around his eyes and mouth. "I can't seem to find the right words."

"It’s alright," Matt whispered back, his voice a gentle caress against the harshness of their reality. "You don't have to say it all at once. I'm here."

"I'm scared," he admitted finally, the words coming out in a choked whisper. 

Matt's hand bridged the last gap between them, fingers curling around Dom's in a gentle hold that spoke volumes more than any verbal reassurance could. "It’s okay to be scared," he said softly. "I think... I think it means you’re about to do something brave."

Dom leaned into the contact slightly, allowing himself this small tether to another soul who might just understand the chaos swirling within him. "I don’t want…" he admitted quietly, "...to be afraid anymore."

Matt gingerly draped his jacket around Dom's shoulders, an offering of comfort that breached the distance that seemed to be growing between them. He almost held his breath. Was this it? Was Dom finally going to–

“The view,” Dom started suddenly after a few beats, “... out here... it's something else, isn't it?” Dom's comment cut through the heavy silence, his voice drifting up towards the dusky horizon where shadows played between the trees and an occasional dart of wildlife rustled through the undergrowth.

“Yeah, it's peaceful,” Matt responded, his voice soft, hinting at a careful respect for Dom’s evasion. He followed Dom’s gaze, watching how the last light of the day highlighted the contours of the landscape. “Always feels a bit surreal, being out here away from the noise of the city, away from the crowds... We get to step out of our lives for a bit.”

A half-smile tugged at the corner of Dom's mouth, a semblance of gratitude in his eyes for Matt’s gentle compliance with the change of subject.

 “Mhm, stepping away from reality,” he agreed quietly.

As Matt and Dom sat there, a conversational interlude took shape in the form of a delicate desert bird. They observed it flitting across the landscape, effortlessly dipping into the sagebrush. 

Matt chuckled. "Look at that little guy, Dom. There's a kind of fearless freedom in the way it just... goes wherever it wants," he said, amusement mingling with a reflective note in his voice.

Dom turned, following the bird's trajectory until it vanished from view. "Wish it was that simple for all of us," he replied, the lightness in his tone belying the depth of his words.

Matt observed Dom, noting the pensiveness that lingered in his gaze even as he spoke lightly. He decided to press gently, to nudge them toward a conversation that might open doors long kept closed. "Hey, why don't we sit down tomorrow morning after breakfast? Just chat for a bit? I think we could both use a good, quiet talk."

Dom’s nod was hesitant but sincere. "Yeah, I’d like that. And... uh, if there's pancakes involved, even better." His attempt at humor was shy, almost cautious, but it was there—a small step forward.

"Done," Matt replied with a grin. "Pancakes it is. I’ll make sure they’re extra fluffy for you."

The corners of Dom's mouth twitched upwards, slightly more confidently this time. It seemed the promise of pancakes had helped him feel more at ease. As the stars began to prick through the veil of dusk above them, an unspoken agreement settled softly between them. Tomorrow would be different; it needed to be.

Matt wished he could offer more than just companionship in the growing darkness. But for now, he hoped it was enough for Dom to realize he wasn't alone.

The wind picked up just a little bit at first, tugging at the edges of Matt's jacket and sending a ripple across the quiet desert scene. Darkening clouds began to gather in the distance, a silent yet potent threat to the serene moment they had enjoyed. Glancing over at Dom, Matt noticed a strand of hair flick to the side of his face, an outward reflection of the inner turmoil he seemed to hide so well. 

With a subtle nudge, Matt drew Dom's attention towards the horizon. “Looks like the weather’s turning. We should probably head back,” he suggested, his voice cutting through the increasing whistle of the wind. Dom's gaze lingered on the bruising sky, and for a moment, Matt saw the hesitancy to return to a reality where he couldn't just be himself. But then, nodding in agreement, Dom rose to his feet.

"Yeah, let's not get caught in whatever that is," he replied, with a quick, forced laugh, as if to ward off the weight of the conversation. Matt briefly wondered whether Dom was referring to the storm or to the topic they were about to discuss. Side by side, they made their way back to the bus, the gusts of wind growing stronger as if urging them to quicken their pace and outrun the oncoming storm.

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