fox_confessor: (Dom (skint))
[personal profile] fox_confessor
Disclaimer: A work of fiction; the recognizable people in the story belong to themselves and have never performed the actions portrayed here. I do not know the actors nor am I associated with them in any way. If you are underage, please do not read this story. I am not making any profit from these stories, nor do I mean any harm.

Fic: Instants bb/dm PG
Title: Instants
Author: Danielle
Pairing: Billy/Dom
Rating: PG

12 years old
It’s stepping off the plane into Manchester that Dominic remembers the most about this year. It’s not the first time he’s been there because it’s where his grandmother lives. But suddenly, Manchester isn’t a place where they just visit on holiday but has been transformed into “home.” Which is okay, except the school uniform is itchy and the boys at school have pointed out more than once that his ears are too big and his jaw is crooked. Still, when he makes Niles McGovern shoot milk out his nose during lunch his fifth day at St. Anne’s, he knows he’s in.

16 years old
It wasn’t his first. Not even his third or tenth. It felt like the first though, and that’s what Dominic remembers most about that year. Christian Howe in the back of the theatre, the smell of dust thick in his nose because they hid behind the heavy, velvet curtains. It’s not something that happened twice, however. It was his cue and he almost missed it. Almost. The kiss tickled because Emma Kelly bet Christian that he couldn’t grow a proper mustache for the opening like his character in the book. And she was right. That moment is still with him.

18 years old
His first acting job. Well, not his first in terms of parts played, but in being paid. In being on the telly. Everyday he got to go on set while other blokes went to uni or to work in a shop or a factory. He got to have makeup and costumes and lines to be remembered. All of Britain has seen his bum, which might be embarrassing if he were somebody else. So, there’s not one moment to remember the most but a series all squished together like an extended episode of Hetty Wainthrop. Except it’s not. It’s his life.

22 years old
Dominic jokes that if he had to sum up his time in New Zealand, it would come down to one word: feet. Wake up, have your feet applied. Be a Hobbit all day. Have your feet taken off and be a Hobbit all night, with good food, better drinks and the best friends. Privately, however, his time in New Zealand can be expressed with another word: Billy. A name like an emotional kaleidoscope; twist it one way and it’s surfing trips; another and it’s days off spent in bed. Yet another, and it’s the inevitable feet. But always, always, Billy.

30 years old
It’s all passed, or rather in the past. Pickups in New Zealand. Premieres. Interviews. Not that Dominic thinks his career is over; that would be a little too maudlin even for his tastes. Still, Rings is over and he can never have it back. It feels a little odd to have it stored away as memories and it’s surprising how often little details come to him, like Niles and his milk, except it’s Peter and his giggles. The only good thing is that Billy didn’t stay a memory. He’s still here, and from the looks of things, always will be.


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