Finally, I'm Lost in Your Eyes

Chapter 4

The chilly air continues to float in from the window, mixing with Dominic’s warm breath. Paul curses and reaches across Dominic’s flustered chest to roll up the window since Dominic is still staring outside like he’s frozen in shock. He is vaguely aware of Paul leaning towards the driver to tell them to move on to his house and then poking at Dominic verbally, complaining about him trying to give them hypothermia.

“Oh, you big baby,” Dominic huffs, shaking himself out of his ravine and glaring at his sidekick for what had happened earlier.

“What?” Paul asks, taking the piss.

“Remind me to fire you.”

He laughs at the threat, knowing Dominic would never fire him, even in his foulest mood. Besides, Dominic doesn’t really hold the power to do so (that’s reserved for his manager), so Paul takes high advantage of that when he can.

Dominic bites his lip, nibbling harshly, as he does when he thinks. It’s a nasty habit he’s developed, one that sometimes goes so far as to rip apart his lip to the point where it starts to bleed.

Paul taps his shoulder lovingly, whispering into his ear. “I know this all is hard on you, D. Try to stay positive. I know you better than most, and I know you don’t let things get to you. I don’t know what your manager said to you, but I know you’re lovelier than you make yourself seem, so maybe you just need a reminder.”

Dominic draws his knees to his chest and doesn’t respond, a sharp pain resonating in his chest. An ambulance screams past, siren wailing, and Dominic has to close his eyes to keep his breathing steady.

“Um, change of plans. Drop me off at Carissa’s.”

“You sure?” Paul asks with obvious concern. “Maybe tonight isn’t the best time. You’re still under the influence if your behavior with that boy says anything.”

“I’m sure.” Dominic is anything but sure.

~******~

Dominic’s mother and sister spent a combined 250 hours at his bedside that first week after the ‘incident’. His mother spent the first three days unmoving from the plastic chair by his head, the next two days screaming at his management and probably anyone else directly involved in the saving of his life, then the final day back at his side, stroking his hair and kissing the bruises of the needles he’d used on his arms. Or, at least, that’s what he’s been told.

She had to go back to Manchester after that week to work because Dominic selfishly didn’t consider that she would have to give up money to come check on him. It was a lot to take in when he first woke up. Not only was he extremely disappointed, relieved, and scared all at once, but the nurses and doctors took it upon themselves to take his mother’s threatening words out on him. Definitely not the most welcoming party to greet him and reassure him that the failure to take his own life was a good thing.

Emma came the following week. His sister was a light in the dark – the only reassuring thing he could grab onto in the chaos. She had cancelled her classes to be with him, but Dominic had been groggy and weak, and he hardly remembers it.

Apparently, he had almost gone comatose during the revival, so it took him a total of 8 days to even properly wake up. At first, he abhorred all of it – the attention, criticism, and judgement. However, now he wants nothing more than his family to visit him again and tell him that they love him, that he means something to them.

And maybe that’s the exact reason that he finds himself standing outside of his current (ex?) girlfriend’s flat, tearing up a bit with no good validation as to why he feels so alone when he’s got so many people who love him.

He vigorously wipes at his eyes, dragging his gloves along the underside of his nose and takes a couple of deep breaths. A part of him really doesn’t want to have this talk with her, but his other half finds a great deal of solace in Carissa. She’s the only constant he’s had since he became famous, besides maybe Paul. Perhaps a part of him is simply scared she’ll find out he’s a monster. If she isn’t already aware.

Her last text burns in his mind, spurring up a courage to knock on her door. He dries his eyes so that it appears he had never been crying. The door takes several long seconds to open, making Dominic wonder if perhaps he’d come at the wrong time, but then she’s standing in the doorway.

Her long caramel-colored hair is tugged up into a messy bun and she’s dressed comfortably, slippers on her feet. A fleeting dash of surprise crosses her face.

Dominic smiles slowly when he sees her, and he holds up his purchase of flowers. “Hi, love,” he greets as normal, stepping into her flat and leaning down to kiss her cheek. It’s an apology gift – something he always retrieves when he’s messed up, even if she doesn’t always know what he’s done.

She brightens, snatching them up and reaching for his cheek with her free hand. “Aren’t you sweet?”

Dominic steals a kiss from her puckered mouth, licking his lips as he starts pulling off his coat.

She frowns and stares at him, as if wanting to say something but deciding against it, hauling the flowers deeper inside the flat to where she can reach a vase and fill it with water. There’s a puzzle on the living room floor, half-finished and the rest of the pieces sorted out into colored piles. Dominic’s heart beats a little slower when he sees her, and he seizes shaking. When he really thinks about it, Dominic is almost certain that this is as close to love as he’ll ever feel for someone.

There’s no hug. No frantic kiss to tell him she’s been worried sick. She’s really furious with him.

“Sit down. We need to talk.”

Dominic bites his lip, ashamed, when she gives him a serious look, and he knows it’s about the attempt. They haven’t seen each other since he was hospitalized, and after hearing her voicemail on his device, he can’t quite look her in the eye the same way.

He takes off his gloves and scarf then follows her inside, Carissa grabbing his hand when he hesitates. She drags them to the gray couch beside her and curls up beside him. Bending her body so that she’s practically on Dominic, her hand soothingly tangles into his hair, knocking his hat into his lap. Probably trying to butter him up for answers, but there are some lines he doesn’t want to cross for now.

Her expression is thoughtful. What comes out of her mouth is not what he is prepared for. “What kind of drugs were they?” she asks the question with the patience of a mother asking a young child why they hit another. There’s disappointment but also love. “What did you use to do it?”

Dominic gulps. It’s embarrassing to admit out loud even if she probably already knows. “A few hard drugs but mostly prescription.”

She rubs her temples like all this has been equally as mentally exhausting as it was for Dominic. Maybe it was. Dominic didn’t consider a lot about everyone else or the emotional toll. He couldn’t even explain why he did it, but he’s not sure yet if he regrets his decision.

She grabs his hand, one he didn’t realize was trembling again. There’s hurt thinly veiled behind her eyes, but she does her best to hide it. “Why didn’t you come to me? That night you were feeling so . . . why didn’t you ask for help? Why did you not even think to call or text me?”

“You would’ve tried to talk me out of it,” he responds lamely.

“Did I run through your mind at all?”

His silence is a bad answer. She pulls away from him completely, no longer touching him. Sighing, she shakes her head and gets up. Carissa has put up with a lot of his s**t. The media, his fans, his management, and yet Dominic still manages to find ways to disappoint her. He has no idea why she’s stayed with him this long.

She hesitates at the hallway, almost like she’s thinking about giving up completely and barricading herself in her room. Instead, she trudges to the kitchen, busying herself with something only to keep her calm.

She bangs the cupboards a little too loudly anyway. “I’ve tried, Dominic. I’ve really tried.”

“I know – I know that.”

“I can understand that you’re hurting right now, and love may not be the first thing on your mind, but it feels a lot like sometimes you won’t ever think about love when you think of me.”

Dominic stands behind her and shuffles her hair aside, kissing behind her ear softly, then reaching around to grab her chin and kiss her on the lips. She always melts, regardless of how many times Dominic’s done it before. “I love you.”

“No, you don’t,” she sighs.

“I’m going to keep saying it. At least this way, you’ll know that when I say it for real, you’ll know I’m telling the truth.” When she continues to look doubtful, Dominic kisses her again. “I always come back home to you, don’t I?”

“You’ve also cheated on me more times than I can count.”

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes remorsefully.

She huffs, unconvinced. She, to this day, still looks pissed when it’s brought up, but it’s nothing like when he cheated on her the first time. She had kicked him out of the flat and told him to go sleep with the w***e, and Dominic had wept in his car for three hours because he felt so guilty.

She should have dumped him then and there. “Not that sorry if you keep doing it.”

Drunk Dominic is an entirely different person. He doesn’t care if he hurts people or sleeps with someone that’s not his girlfriend. Drunk Dominic becomes the popstar diva he was always worried he would become.

Sober Dominic’s not great of a joy to be around either. He’s depressed and alone and afraid, and he hates disappointing people more than he hates himself. All out, he’s really annoying, and he can’t say he blames that boy from outside the club for telling him he’s a s**t show.

Dominic lifts her hand to kiss it sweetly. “I’m going to change. I promise.”