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lotruniversity verse
Fic: Vignettes to go along with discs for lotruni Dom
Notes: Okay. These are a collection of little vignettes that I wrote to the cds I created for lotrunidom. I played the song and typed until the song ended. Then I stopped. I hesitate to post because they may or may not have to do with the actual storyline in some cases, and are sometimes just meant to reflect what Dom's mood is during that time--much like the songs.
May contain spoilers forlotruniversity, but then again, it may not.
Figlio Perduto by Sarah Brightman
As a boy, I used to like to run with my arms stretched out so that just my fingertips could touch things—tall grass, pickets, my brother’s hands. We would run in circles, getting dizzy, until finally we would collapse—breathless—and watch the clouds as they moved across the sky. My mother, when we lived in Germany, would sit outside our small house with the other women in the neighborhood, laughing and sharing stories as they watched over the kids in the gathering twilight. When my dad would come home, we would eat together outside—nothing fancy, just sandwiches. I wouldn’t even have to go inside to wash my hands.
I miss those days.
Numb by Linkin Park
My last years in secondary school, everything changed. What used to make my mum laugh, now only made her mad. Her favorite question became, “why must you upset your father?” and instead of eating outside, we had to eat at the table. We quit talking. Or I quit talking and it seemed to make everyone happier. Except my dad would question me about school, about footie practice.
There were times when I would try to be the perfect son, but it would crumble away. Then I would try to be your worst nightmare, and that seemed to work better but it hurt me terribly. I hated not knowing what you wanted me to be.
Scartissue by Red Hot Chili Peppers
My sexuality became both hidden and the center of attention. We didn’t talk about it, but when I talked about going out with my friends, my dad would straighten up in his chair and shoot my mum a look. When I began dating boys—going out to the clubs on the weekends—I stopped talking about it altogether. After my first year at uni, when I decided to come out to them and to everyone else, my father raised his hand to me. I didn’t flinch and neither did he; he walked out instead. Went for a “walk.”
When he got back I was gone.
My mum sent me money for three months afterwards. I always sent it back, even though I never had enough to eat and I was washing my clothes out in the sink. I found a job in a bar and started having one night stands—started to develop other talents. Where I was numb before, I felt it all now.
It’s Tough to Have a Crush by Ok Go
Professor Boyd. I don’t think any other professor has ever had a bigger impact on my life—or ever could. He lets me come to his office and then just talks to me. It’s normal to develop a crush, right? He’s perfect, and the most perfect thing about him is that he doesn’t know it. He blushes when I tell him how brilliant he is. He ignores my blushes when I know I’ve done something stupid. Tells me to try again and then praises me when it works.
It’s normal, right?
Wild Boys by Duran Duran
It’s to the point now where I can’t stop thinking about him. I make up excuses to see him all the time but the thing is...he’s always happy to see me. And yeah, maybe I’m engaging in a little wishful thinking, but I think he likes me too—not just as his student. I’ve seen how he looks at me sometimes. And he didn’t say anything when I told him I’m gay. He just smiled and asked me how old I was when I first came out. I mean, he talked to me about it like it wasn’t any big deal. Maybe that’s just how he is but... what if it’s not? What if I went to him and just kissed him? What if he kissed me back?
Show Me How to Live by Audioslave
And I did. And then he did. And then we did so much more. It’s exactly as I thought it would be: perfect. But fucking scary, too. He’s so intense and I’m so afraid I’m going to fuck it up, but then we’re together and when he touches me, I just explode. Everything hums. I can’t fucking believe it. I can’t even think about it because just closing my eyes and imagining him stretched out above me...
He holds me at night. Let’s me staythe night. I’m trying to be so careful and I’ll give him everything if he’ll just let it stay like this forever. I couldn’t be anymore twee, but it’s like being fucking born again—screaming into the light, with everything white hot and burning cold.
Feed Me by Yvonne
It’s so fucking hard. No one can know, so when we are apart I try not to think about it. Pretend it’s never happened, but that leaves me so empty—like a raging hole inside my chest. I can’t sleep or eat unless I know when and where I’ll be able to go to him next. I can’t believe I’m anything more than a good fuck to him—but sometimes he lets me fuck him...that’s got to mean something, right? How could it not. He was my first—the first man I fucked (I don’t even dare call it making love. Not even here.)
When we’re together, I won’t let him sleep—not until he holds me down. Sings to me sometimes. I want to make him need me the same that I need him. It’s so fucking scary.
Lighthouse by Pulp
We spent the day in the country. At a castle. Most Perfect Day Ever. Most Perfect Man Ever.
I swear I’m losing my mind.
So Into You by Shudder to Think
I sat outside his office for an hour and a half waiting for him. I’ve never done this before—by turns mad that he wasn’t there and frightened that something had happened to him and disbelieving of myself for sitting so long and waiting. A staff meeting ran over. He almost didn’t even come back to his office but had forgotten something. Said he didn’t think I would have waited because he told me. And he did, but I forgot because I’m an idiot. I pressed him against the door and kissed him until he was breathless. Gave him a blow job that left his thighs shaking and he had to lean on me for several minutes. I can fucking give him that and no one else can.
But I heard him talking with another student. A student who actually understands the German philosophers. A student who Billy doesn’t have to ask to sit still every five minutes. A student who is just as fucking brilliant as I am dense. I can’t give him that. Can’t compete with that. And what if he meets someone older than me. What if he meets someone he wants to marry.
Feels like fucking jumping without a parachute.
Love is Blindness by U2
I love him. I can’t tell him. He ended it. For both our sakes.
Adrift by Cranes
I had to sit through class and just stare at him. Listen to him. He doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t acknowledge me.
I can’t sleep. Can’t eat. And didn’t I just fucking go through this while being with him? And now without.
I went to the infirmary. The nurse there gave me something to help me sleep. I stopped off and bought a fifth. Slept for three fucking days but when I woke I still felt like my chest had been ripped out. And I still had to go to class though I’ve cut everything else.
Too Much Brandy by The Streets
...
To Be Something On by Sunny Day Real Estate
Elijah called me the most pathetic fucking sod he’d ever seen. This as he was fucking me blind in the men’s room in the basement of the library. Made me tell him more about Billy. Ok. Didn’t make me. So much fucking easier to pretend Elijah is Billy if I can say his name--if it’s me talking rather than Elijah and his bloody flat American voice.
That was after class. After a lecture on morality delivered by the man who used to make me cry out so loudly and so often that my throat would hurt the next day. He watched me all during class, as if he expected me to gain some hidden meaning. All I could think about was the last time he made love to me. How he held me afterwards and kissed me. How I should have known that would be the last, but because I’m so fucking stupid, I had no idea. I asked if I could come back that night and he said we’ll see. Asked me to stop by his office hours.
Ended it where it fucking began.
I was crying when Elijah came, and he said I was the most pathetic sod he’d ever seen. And I fucking agreed.
Believe by R.E.M.
As a boy, I used to like to run with my arms stretched out so that just my fingertips could touch things—tall grass, pickets, my brother’s hands. We would run in circles, getting dizzy, until finally we would collapse—breathless—and watch the clouds as they moved across the sky. We used to lie in the field next to our house and giggle about things that boys giggle over.
I stayed with Billy last night. He held me all night, and talked to me. Whispered things to me that I needed to hear. I told him I loved him. That I’ve always loved him.
I think he loves me, too.
Like the Rain by Clint Black
I know he loves me.
We stayed in today. It was raining and we lay in each other’s arms on the couch. He had built up a fire earlier, and read to me when I was awake. Fed me. Made love to me—that’s what he called it.
When I woke up, the fire had burned down low and he was still asleep. He’s beautiful. I tell him sometimes and he tells me I’m cracked, and that’s partly why he’s beautiful. I whispered things to him while he slept; things that I hope found their way to his heart.
April in Paris by Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong
We kissed on the steps on Monmontre. Bathed together in our hotel room. Woke up entwined in a brass bed made up with fine white linens and the sun streaming in on our bodies. He held my hand as we walked. Climbed to the top of the tower with me. Made me try on clothes—told me how he saw me in them—and bought me gifts. Got me drunk off a heavy red wine and then took thorough advantage of me as we sailed down the Seine. Whispered a passage of Kant to me as we stood in one of the most famous chapels in the world then whispered what secrets he thought Da Vinci had hidden in the Mona Lisa.
I buried my face in his jacket as the plane lifted away from De Gaulle, embarrassed that he should see me cry.
Jealous by the Black Crowes
She’s absolutely amazing. One of those women who men will fight to get a smile from. Tall, blonde, stunning (because what other word could you use?) and brilliant...a word I’ve used to describe Billy.
My guilt in feeling jealous is surpassed only by my guilt in letting Billy know. I promised that I trust him and still I let it show sometimes. It scares me because I feel this overwhelming urge to possess him when it hits. I’ve hurt him trying to show him.
I can’t explain it to him, though, because I can’t explain it to myself. He deserves someone who is his equal. Deserves to be happy with someone who isn’t defective. Needy.
Still, when I think of that—of a future in which he is holding someone else…being happy with someone else—it makes me insane. He’s mine, and yet I know I possess nothing. Cannot.
A Wolf at the Door by Radiohead
I let it go. I trusted him—them. Implicitly. And Elijah showed me how fucking wrong I was. She wants him. Wants to possess him almost as I did. Do.
Elijah whispered to me my fears, and I hated myself more for letting him know what they were. This is all my fault. He says that I can’t offer Billy what she can, and he’s so fucking right that I can begin to feel the old pains building up in my chest as if they’re never left.
Come Undone by Duran Duran
But when I’m with Billy, I pretend. I don’t let him know of the rumors I’ve heard. How amused half the campus is that she’s got her eye on him—both in fact—and how he’ll crumble and how fucking funny that is.
She knows though. I can’t pretend with her. The things she says—and the things that my own heart betrays me with. She knows everything. Things that even Billy doesn’t know-- and it burns. I can see it speeding to a close—can close my eyes and imagine what that looks like. It’s so physical.
Far From Grace by the Doves
I see what she offers now. Redemption. Salvation. Funny that I used to think of Billy in those terms.
There is no appeal. No redemption. No refuge but treason
Black Eyed Dog by Nick Drake
and in the end there was only one answer...
Anytime, Anywhere by Sarah Brightman
For a while, my life ended after Billy. I drifted in a way that seems almost melodramatic now, indulging my broken heart. My mum, pained by my depression, sent me on holiday to visit my brother in Austria. My brother, tired of translating the poetry that I wrote on the steamed mirror after showers, sent me on holiday in New Zealand.
There I disappeared into the wilderness and honestly worked on a sheep farm. If I never see a sheep again, it will be too fucking soon. Two years later when I returned to Britain, I had a book deal. A book that did modestly well. Though my second did better, and my third is doing quite well.
Strawberry Fields by Eagle Eye Cherry
I convinced my agent that living a life as an expatriate in Paris would heighten my appeal. She had journalists write sad, contradicting stories about my checkered past—checkered by creation. I don’t mind. Not really. After all, I really do get to live a life as an expatriate in Paris.
Blue Denim by Stevie Nicks
Well...
I take that back. I’m not really modeling myself after Hemingway. I’ve lived in the shadow of a 22 year old boy all this time. He still likes to stand on the steps on Monmontre. Wake up in a brass bed made up with fine white linens and the sun streaming in on his body. Climb to the top of the tower and try to see to the Channel and home beyond. Twist the leather cuff that he still wears on occasion. Get drunk off heavy red wine then sail down the Seine.
It was really that boy who stopped in the middle of the Champs-Elysees, catching the high clear voice of a man ordering coffee and a brandy. It was those boy’s feet that forced him to turn and go sit at the table built for two and just stare.
He looked older, more worn, and I took greater care than that boy ever did when I led him back to my bed. I haven’t let him leave since and I still make him read me Kant and whisper Da Vinci’s secrets.
And he still loves me, too.
lotruniversity verseFic: Vignettes to go along with discs for lotruni Dom
Notes: Okay. These are a collection of little vignettes that I wrote to the cds I created for lotrunidom. I played the song and typed until the song ended. Then I stopped. I hesitate to post because they may or may not have to do with the actual storyline in some cases, and are sometimes just meant to reflect what Dom's mood is during that time--much like the songs.
May contain spoilers for
lotruniversity, but then again, it may not.Figlio Perduto by Sarah Brightman
As a boy, I used to like to run with my arms stretched out so that just my fingertips could touch things—tall grass, pickets, my brother’s hands. We would run in circles, getting dizzy, until finally we would collapse—breathless—and watch the clouds as they moved across the sky. My mother, when we lived in Germany, would sit outside our small house with the other women in the neighborhood, laughing and sharing stories as they watched over the kids in the gathering twilight. When my dad would come home, we would eat together outside—nothing fancy, just sandwiches. I wouldn’t even have to go inside to wash my hands.
I miss those days.
Numb by Linkin Park
My last years in secondary school, everything changed. What used to make my mum laugh, now only made her mad. Her favorite question became, “why must you upset your father?” and instead of eating outside, we had to eat at the table. We quit talking. Or I quit talking and it seemed to make everyone happier. Except my dad would question me about school, about footie practice.
There were times when I would try to be the perfect son, but it would crumble away. Then I would try to be your worst nightmare, and that seemed to work better but it hurt me terribly. I hated not knowing what you wanted me to be.
Scartissue by Red Hot Chili Peppers
My sexuality became both hidden and the center of attention. We didn’t talk about it, but when I talked about going out with my friends, my dad would straighten up in his chair and shoot my mum a look. When I began dating boys—going out to the clubs on the weekends—I stopped talking about it altogether. After my first year at uni, when I decided to come out to them and to everyone else, my father raised his hand to me. I didn’t flinch and neither did he; he walked out instead. Went for a “walk.”
When he got back I was gone.
My mum sent me money for three months afterwards. I always sent it back, even though I never had enough to eat and I was washing my clothes out in the sink. I found a job in a bar and started having one night stands—started to develop other talents. Where I was numb before, I felt it all now.
It’s Tough to Have a Crush by Ok Go
Professor Boyd. I don’t think any other professor has ever had a bigger impact on my life—or ever could. He lets me come to his office and then just talks to me. It’s normal to develop a crush, right? He’s perfect, and the most perfect thing about him is that he doesn’t know it. He blushes when I tell him how brilliant he is. He ignores my blushes when I know I’ve done something stupid. Tells me to try again and then praises me when it works.
It’s normal, right?
Wild Boys by Duran Duran
It’s to the point now where I can’t stop thinking about him. I make up excuses to see him all the time but the thing is...he’s always happy to see me. And yeah, maybe I’m engaging in a little wishful thinking, but I think he likes me too—not just as his student. I’ve seen how he looks at me sometimes. And he didn’t say anything when I told him I’m gay. He just smiled and asked me how old I was when I first came out. I mean, he talked to me about it like it wasn’t any big deal. Maybe that’s just how he is but... what if it’s not? What if I went to him and just kissed him? What if he kissed me back?
Show Me How to Live by Audioslave
And I did. And then he did. And then we did so much more. It’s exactly as I thought it would be: perfect. But fucking scary, too. He’s so intense and I’m so afraid I’m going to fuck it up, but then we’re together and when he touches me, I just explode. Everything hums. I can’t fucking believe it. I can’t even think about it because just closing my eyes and imagining him stretched out above me...
He holds me at night. Let’s me staythe night. I’m trying to be so careful and I’ll give him everything if he’ll just let it stay like this forever. I couldn’t be anymore twee, but it’s like being fucking born again—screaming into the light, with everything white hot and burning cold.
Feed Me by Yvonne
It’s so fucking hard. No one can know, so when we are apart I try not to think about it. Pretend it’s never happened, but that leaves me so empty—like a raging hole inside my chest. I can’t sleep or eat unless I know when and where I’ll be able to go to him next. I can’t believe I’m anything more than a good fuck to him—but sometimes he lets me fuck him...that’s got to mean something, right? How could it not. He was my first—the first man I fucked (I don’t even dare call it making love. Not even here.)
When we’re together, I won’t let him sleep—not until he holds me down. Sings to me sometimes. I want to make him need me the same that I need him. It’s so fucking scary.
Lighthouse by Pulp
We spent the day in the country. At a castle. Most Perfect Day Ever. Most Perfect Man Ever.
I swear I’m losing my mind.
So Into You by Shudder to Think
I sat outside his office for an hour and a half waiting for him. I’ve never done this before—by turns mad that he wasn’t there and frightened that something had happened to him and disbelieving of myself for sitting so long and waiting. A staff meeting ran over. He almost didn’t even come back to his office but had forgotten something. Said he didn’t think I would have waited because he told me. And he did, but I forgot because I’m an idiot. I pressed him against the door and kissed him until he was breathless. Gave him a blow job that left his thighs shaking and he had to lean on me for several minutes. I can fucking give him that and no one else can.
But I heard him talking with another student. A student who actually understands the German philosophers. A student who Billy doesn’t have to ask to sit still every five minutes. A student who is just as fucking brilliant as I am dense. I can’t give him that. Can’t compete with that. And what if he meets someone older than me. What if he meets someone he wants to marry.
Feels like fucking jumping without a parachute.
Love is Blindness by U2
I love him. I can’t tell him. He ended it. For both our sakes.
Adrift by Cranes
I had to sit through class and just stare at him. Listen to him. He doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t acknowledge me.
I can’t sleep. Can’t eat. And didn’t I just fucking go through this while being with him? And now without.
I went to the infirmary. The nurse there gave me something to help me sleep. I stopped off and bought a fifth. Slept for three fucking days but when I woke I still felt like my chest had been ripped out. And I still had to go to class though I’ve cut everything else.
Too Much Brandy by The Streets
...
To Be Something On by Sunny Day Real Estate
Elijah called me the most pathetic fucking sod he’d ever seen. This as he was fucking me blind in the men’s room in the basement of the library. Made me tell him more about Billy. Ok. Didn’t make me. So much fucking easier to pretend Elijah is Billy if I can say his name--if it’s me talking rather than Elijah and his bloody flat American voice.
That was after class. After a lecture on morality delivered by the man who used to make me cry out so loudly and so often that my throat would hurt the next day. He watched me all during class, as if he expected me to gain some hidden meaning. All I could think about was the last time he made love to me. How he held me afterwards and kissed me. How I should have known that would be the last, but because I’m so fucking stupid, I had no idea. I asked if I could come back that night and he said we’ll see. Asked me to stop by his office hours.
Ended it where it fucking began.
I was crying when Elijah came, and he said I was the most pathetic sod he’d ever seen. And I fucking agreed.
Believe by R.E.M.
As a boy, I used to like to run with my arms stretched out so that just my fingertips could touch things—tall grass, pickets, my brother’s hands. We would run in circles, getting dizzy, until finally we would collapse—breathless—and watch the clouds as they moved across the sky. We used to lie in the field next to our house and giggle about things that boys giggle over.
I stayed with Billy last night. He held me all night, and talked to me. Whispered things to me that I needed to hear. I told him I loved him. That I’ve always loved him.
I think he loves me, too.
Like the Rain by Clint Black
I know he loves me.
We stayed in today. It was raining and we lay in each other’s arms on the couch. He had built up a fire earlier, and read to me when I was awake. Fed me. Made love to me—that’s what he called it.
When I woke up, the fire had burned down low and he was still asleep. He’s beautiful. I tell him sometimes and he tells me I’m cracked, and that’s partly why he’s beautiful. I whispered things to him while he slept; things that I hope found their way to his heart.
April in Paris by Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong
We kissed on the steps on Monmontre. Bathed together in our hotel room. Woke up entwined in a brass bed made up with fine white linens and the sun streaming in on our bodies. He held my hand as we walked. Climbed to the top of the tower with me. Made me try on clothes—told me how he saw me in them—and bought me gifts. Got me drunk off a heavy red wine and then took thorough advantage of me as we sailed down the Seine. Whispered a passage of Kant to me as we stood in one of the most famous chapels in the world then whispered what secrets he thought Da Vinci had hidden in the Mona Lisa.
I buried my face in his jacket as the plane lifted away from De Gaulle, embarrassed that he should see me cry.
Jealous by the Black Crowes
She’s absolutely amazing. One of those women who men will fight to get a smile from. Tall, blonde, stunning (because what other word could you use?) and brilliant...a word I’ve used to describe Billy.
My guilt in feeling jealous is surpassed only by my guilt in letting Billy know. I promised that I trust him and still I let it show sometimes. It scares me because I feel this overwhelming urge to possess him when it hits. I’ve hurt him trying to show him.
I can’t explain it to him, though, because I can’t explain it to myself. He deserves someone who is his equal. Deserves to be happy with someone who isn’t defective. Needy.
Still, when I think of that—of a future in which he is holding someone else…being happy with someone else—it makes me insane. He’s mine, and yet I know I possess nothing. Cannot.
A Wolf at the Door by Radiohead
I let it go. I trusted him—them. Implicitly. And Elijah showed me how fucking wrong I was. She wants him. Wants to possess him almost as I did. Do.
Elijah whispered to me my fears, and I hated myself more for letting him know what they were. This is all my fault. He says that I can’t offer Billy what she can, and he’s so fucking right that I can begin to feel the old pains building up in my chest as if they’re never left.
Come Undone by Duran Duran
But when I’m with Billy, I pretend. I don’t let him know of the rumors I’ve heard. How amused half the campus is that she’s got her eye on him—both in fact—and how he’ll crumble and how fucking funny that is.
She knows though. I can’t pretend with her. The things she says—and the things that my own heart betrays me with. She knows everything. Things that even Billy doesn’t know-- and it burns. I can see it speeding to a close—can close my eyes and imagine what that looks like. It’s so physical.
Far From Grace by the Doves
I see what she offers now. Redemption. Salvation. Funny that I used to think of Billy in those terms.
There is no appeal. No redemption. No refuge but treason
Black Eyed Dog by Nick Drake
and in the end there was only one answer...
Anytime, Anywhere by Sarah Brightman
For a while, my life ended after Billy. I drifted in a way that seems almost melodramatic now, indulging my broken heart. My mum, pained by my depression, sent me on holiday to visit my brother in Austria. My brother, tired of translating the poetry that I wrote on the steamed mirror after showers, sent me on holiday in New Zealand.
There I disappeared into the wilderness and honestly worked on a sheep farm. If I never see a sheep again, it will be too fucking soon. Two years later when I returned to Britain, I had a book deal. A book that did modestly well. Though my second did better, and my third is doing quite well.
Strawberry Fields by Eagle Eye Cherry
I convinced my agent that living a life as an expatriate in Paris would heighten my appeal. She had journalists write sad, contradicting stories about my checkered past—checkered by creation. I don’t mind. Not really. After all, I really do get to live a life as an expatriate in Paris.
Blue Denim by Stevie Nicks
Well...
I take that back. I’m not really modeling myself after Hemingway. I’ve lived in the shadow of a 22 year old boy all this time. He still likes to stand on the steps on Monmontre. Wake up in a brass bed made up with fine white linens and the sun streaming in on his body. Climb to the top of the tower and try to see to the Channel and home beyond. Twist the leather cuff that he still wears on occasion. Get drunk off heavy red wine then sail down the Seine.
It was really that boy who stopped in the middle of the Champs-Elysees, catching the high clear voice of a man ordering coffee and a brandy. It was those boy’s feet that forced him to turn and go sit at the table built for two and just stare.
He looked older, more worn, and I took greater care than that boy ever did when I led him back to my bed. I haven’t let him leave since and I still make him read me Kant and whisper Da Vinci’s secrets.
And he still loves me, too.
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