This Isn’t Love, This Isn’t Me…
Dominik Lew trudges inside exhausted. His head is pounding and his side burns. Pressing his right arm closer to himself Dominik does his best to relieve some of the pain.
All he wants to do right now is sleep.
Another click signals the door closing. Turning around Dominik reels back hitting his head on the door behind him, his boyfriend stood stone still. Nathaniel. Nathaniel Benedict Merlot. “What the fuck took you so long?” Little flecks of spit land on Dominik’s face.
Nathaniel’s body odor stung Dominik’s nose.
“Well Mik?” Nathaniel’s body somehow appears right in front of Dominik. His greasy dyed blonde hair nearly touching Dominik’s face sends a shiver down Dominik’s back. He swallows down his retort to that horrible nickname. He hates that name just as much as he hates this man.
Another gripping emotion cripples Dominik: fear.
In all the chaos and greeting their longest friend and fan Barrack, Dominik had forgotten about Nathaniel waiting for him in their room.
Looking down Dominik answers, “The signing went long and we did a photo for Barrack to give to his friend. I’m sorry.”
Dominik flinches away from Nathaniel snorting next to his ear. “Whatever. Order my food.”
Nodding Dominik’s head throbs with each movement. His side burns hotter with the tensing of his muscles. Fear holds Dominik hostage a few moments after Nathaniel turns to go watch more TV. Shoving off the door heading for the phone in the separate bedroom on the nightstand Dominik’s headache grows if possible.
Ordering Nathaniel the steak, medium rare, Dominik gingerly sits on the bed. His soft gray fern green eyes look longingly to the pillow. The temptation to lie down is almost too much. Only the fear of what Nathaniel will do pulls him from the bed back into the other room. Taking his post by the door Dominik meekly waits by the door. He would sit down but he knew Nathaniel wouldn’t like that. Nathaniel would probably shove him from the chair. Might even kick him for good measure and a kick is something he cannot afford right now.
His ribs already burn and ache from earlier in the week. The concert tonight aggravated his healing cracked ribs. At first his side was ok but about two songs in and he was in burning agony. The rest of the concert was pure torture for Dominik. He wanted to tell the others that he couldn’t go on but if he did then they would ask why.
Dominik shutters at the thought of them finding out.
They can never find out.
Tears of shame threaten to release themselves. Dominik refuses to let them fall. He won’t give Nathaniel the satisfaction of seeing him cry. He won’t. He can’t.
The TV’s glare stabs Dominik’s aching head. The man on the sofa drinking a coke laughs at something on the screen. Nathaniel has spent everything Dominik has. The ink on the check is barely dry before Nathaniel takes it to blow it on whatever. Or so Nathaniel thinks. Dominik arranged with Sig well over seven years ago to put half of his check’s amount into a secured secret account and give him the rest. Sig didn’t ask why, thank God.
Other than financially supporting Nathaniel when he does nothing Dominik also takes care of everything. Cooking. Cleaning. Dishes. Laundry. Grocery shopping. Everything. Nathaniel does nothing. Absolutely nothing.
A cart squeaking in the hall pulls Dominik’s attention. Sweat gathers on his upper lip from nerves. He can only pray that the delivery person is a woman. It’ll be less severe if it is. If it’s a man Dominik doesn’t know what he’ll do. He can’t take much of anything else.
The cart passing allows Dominik to relax a fraction.
A soft knock startles Dominik.
Opening the door Dominik ducks his head trying his best to not look at whoever is pushing the cart. Concentrating on this person’s shoes Dominik cringes as the very male voice offers a soft good evening.
Nodding slightly Dominik offers the bell hop a small smile.
Dominik’s insides churn with unease. He wants the guy to leave. Now. The longer the guy sticks around the worse things will be for him and he knows it. “How would you like it?”
Dominik’s eyes snap up so fast black spots took over momentarily. “Huh?”
“The food? Where would you like it sir?”
Dominik blinks at the bell hop. He could’ve sworn he said something else entirely. The fact that he had a choice is overwhelming him. He hasn’t had a choice in years. Panicking at the sudden change in things Dominik’s insides went cold as another’s heat appears next to him. “Just leave it.”
Nodding the bell hop discreetly leaves.
The silence sounds louder to Dominik than his own heart racing. “What the fuck was that?” Nathaniel’s low question scares him.
A hard shove sends him crashing into the door. His ribs scream their non-appreciation at such treatment. Nathaniel’s face clouds what’s left of his vision. “What are you looking at that little fucker for? Huh?”
Turning away from Nathaniel’s flying spit barrage Dominik presses his lips together. He’s damned if he answers and damned if he doesn’t. He’ll be in even more trouble if he does say something. So nothing is best. “Well you little bitch? Huh?”
Another hard shove knocks Dominik’s aching head against the door again. A painfully tight grip on his right wrist pulls his wondering attention. The black spots are fighting for his interest. Fighting hard. “Well you faggot?” Nathaniel’s grip on his wrist turns his attention. Dominik watches as his wrist travels, rather quickly, towards the solid raised medal latch.
Shards of pain lance down his wrist into his arm and his hand. His side clenches with the assault sending him deeper into the abyss of pain. “HUH?” Nathaniel slams his wrist again, this time even harder. Daggers embed themselves in his wrist. Sliding to the floor Dominik cradles his right hand against himself.
“Fucking useless faggot.” A glob of spit lands on Dominik’s temple. “Hopeless piece of shit.” Another slice of pain runs across his ribs scurrying down his right arm into his wrist. Collapsing onto his left side Dominik’s head once again makes contact with a hard surface: the floor. Black edges his vision threatening to over take him. “Why do I even bother with you, huh?” Nathaniel’s booted foot presses on his side.
Dominik’s ribs flex unnaturally under the pressure. Stabbing pain lances through his chest. “Nath, please.” His breathing hitches as his diaphragm seizes under the strain.
“What did you say to me?” The pressure intensifies the sharp searing pain becomes almost unbearable.
Trying his best to breathe Dominik can still see Nathaniel’s face twisted in anger despite the other man’s towering form above him turning fuzzy. The edges of black lurch towards the center of his vision before slowly creeping back again. “Master please. For-forgive me.”
The boot leaving him yields little relief as his ribs protest in anger at yet again having the free range of movement. His wrist flares its anger at him as well for even the slightest movement. Unable to press his arm to his side Dominik chokes back his tears. His jewel green hair tickles his half closed eyelids.
Nathaniel’s retreating back uncoils the tension within Dominik. Slowly sagging onto the hotel room’s carpet Dominik tries to concentrate on taking small almost nonexistent puffs of air. Silent tears leak freely down his cheeks. A slice of pain racks Dominik’s chest causing him to take a sharp inhalation of breath. His ribs protest violently as does his certainly fractured wrist.
The black edges lunge towards his center focus completely overtaking the image of Nathaniel sitting comfortable on the hotel suites sofa. His nerve grinding laughter slowly fades into nothingness as does the indistinguishable voices of the television.