29 August 2014 @ 05:52 pm
Title: Upside Down
Author: [livejournal.com profile] kaossbells & [livejournal.com profile] mcsparklez
Beta: the wonderful [livejournal.com profile] gypsyjaeger
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Belldom
Summary: Based on the mkmeme prompt: A rich music collector has almost everything he ever craved for, almost. One special object is still missing in his collection: Matthew Bellamy!
Warnings: language, violence
Feedback: Is like Matt Bellamy bathing in red glitter; fabulous.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and has never happened. We do not own any of the people mentioned and do not mean to offend.

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3a] [Chapter 3b] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5a] [Chapter 5b] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7a] [Chapter 7b] [Chapter 8] [Chapter 9] [Chapter 10a] [Chapter 10b] [Chapter 10c] [Chapter 10d] [Chapter 11] [Chapter 12a] [AO3]

“Matt, come on!” the blonde cried out and tried to pull the singer up again.

“Yeah,” Matt groaned dizzily and felt his legs wobble dangerously under his weight as he got back to his feet.

The impact with the window and afterwards with the ground had made him blackout for a moment, but now he seemed to be recovering again. But if the pain in his shoulder had felt bad before, it was now literally unbearable. The two of them had rolled downhill quite a distance and the house was now at least a few yards away.

“Hurry!” The blonde urged him on, but on seeing how weak Matt was, he slung his arm over his shoulder and half-carried his friend.

“There is no way out, don’t you understand? Matthew is meant to be here!” Suzanne shouted through the broken window and stepped out onto the lawn, gun raised at eye level.

“Run!” This time it was Matt’s shaky voice that sounded through the garden which seemed to morph into a labyrinth in front of them.

There were hedges everywhere and Dom looked around frantically. He wasn’t sure which one was the real hedge, the one actually surrounding the garden. They all looked alike and shit, how were they supposed to get out now?

Still, Matt’s voice kept ringing in his ears and that one single word spurred him on to no end. They had come this far. He wouldn’t let them die now. Not ever. Not if there was still an ounce of hope left in them. Matt was getting more focused by the second and his legs seemed to grow steadier again. There was hope.

Then a loud shot ripped through the otherwise silent pre-night air. Quickly Dom shoved Matt behind the first hedge they reached, dodged, and covered his friend’s head with his torso. Crouching awkwardly for a moment, the two tried to catch their breaths. There was no time, though. Suzanne was approaching in long strides, her face contorted by anger and fury.

“We can do this,” Dom whispered into Matt’s ear and the brunette nodded, although timidly. “Okay, we need to keep going. Maybe we can shake her off between the hedgerows. And then find a way out. I know there is one. I tried to get through here before.” Again Matt just nodded his head. Without Dom he would have died at least five times already, so he could do nothing but trust him.

“Wait for my sign,” the drummer said and leant forward a bit to sneak a glance around a dark green bush.
Suzanne was already halfway down the little hill and Dom’s eyes widened in shock.

“Now!” He shouted and, without warning, grabbed Matt’s uninjured arm to make a run for it.

The two musicians hurried past weird hedge formations, feeling like the garden was an extension of the nightmarish interior of the house, and tried to hide a few times but failed miserably. As it turned out, plants were not really bullet-proof and they could only hope that Suzanne would keep missing them. Which she did, but a few times only by mere inches.

Why are there no police sirens yet? Someone must’ve heard the crazy shooting by now, right? Dom thought as his brain went riot. Because even if they did manage to get out of the garden, they would still need help. If they got out, Suzanne would, too.

The ground beneath their feet seemed to get softer with each step they took. In reality Dom knew it wasn’t that the ground that changed, though, but the exhaustion numbing their legs. Running got harder by the minute and the blonde just wished for the right hedge to appear. Matt left more and more of his weight for Dom to carry and every second step he took, he stumbled. The drummer had never been one for religion, but now he silently sent desperate prayers up to the heavens. They needed all the help they could get.

Yet another bullet tore a hole into one of the hedges next to them, and wood splinters and tiny leaves danced through the air around them. The house wasn’t even visible anymore, completely blocked from view, and Dom felt like he had lost all sense of orientation.

“Come,” he panted and, on a sudden whim, pulled Matt around another corner to their left. They’d been running almost straight away from the the house, so theoretically the street had to be on their left. Better a desperate plan than none at all.

Sensing that Dom had an idea, Matt tried to get his head back into the chase. For a while his mind had slipped a little, leaving all responsibility to his friend. But he knew it was unfair. He needed to help. Or at least not let Dom carry all of the weight, metaphorically as well as literally. With this thought going round his head, he tried his best to get his legs back under control. Dom’s body instantly straightened up the slightest bit and Matt felt relief flooding through the drummer, showing in the way he held himself.

They were now directly headed for an especially huge hedge. From their current position it looked like one massive wall, the pale light of dusk throwing creepy shadows across it. Matt’s eyes widened as Dom didn’t slow down in the least and instead rushed towards it like their lives depended on it. Which they did, really.

“Duck!” Dom shouted at him and just in time because suddenly Matt saw what they were about to reach.

There was a hole or more like what looked like a tunnel opening. About four feet high and pitch black, it was only visible from up close. Both men ducked down and kept running with their heads bowed. Armed with thorny twigs and thicker trunks that seemed to appear out of nowhere, the hedge was apparently dead set on making their escape as hard as possible.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, they suddenly broke free. A bit disoriented, Dom didn’t let go off Matt for the fear of someone taking him again. Two pairs of eyes scanned the new surroundings while the shots behind them fell silent from one moment to the next. Matt jerked his head around and looked back at the wall that now separated them from their pursuer. The silence didn’t bode well, of that much he was sure.

It was that exact moment that a car appeared at the end of the road, coming closer at alarming speed. To the brunette’s utter horror, Dom didn’t waste another second and pulled him on the street with him, right in front of the car. The driver’s eyes were wide as he jumped on the brakes and managed to stop his car last second. For the first time in forever a huge, relieved smile appeared on the drummer’s face.

“Whitman! Finally!”

Oh, Dom knew the man.

“Dominic! Wolstenholme called me! Where’s Harrison?” The CI quickly climbed out of his car, his eyes trained on the blonde.

“Who?” Dom asked in confusion, his mind already focused on the hedge again.

“Rachel! Suzanne! Whatever she calls herself!”

“Oh! She’s after us!” the drummer cried out and pulled Matt around the car.

Then Whitman’s eyes finally landed on a battered and completely beat looking Matt and he did a double take. The singer was out! His attention quickly followed Dom’s, though, ever the professional, and not a second too late as suddenly a shot tore through the hedge and Suzanne appeared from it a moment later. Her face was just as scratched and bloody as theirs were and her eyes flashed with anger.

To the CI it seemed almost impossible that this tiny, fragile woman was responsible for all the misery the band and their families had gone through over the past few weeks. But, as he had learnt over years and years on the job, nothing was impossible, not when it came to human psychology.

“Police! Put down your gun, Ms Harrison! It’s over!” Whitman shouted, his gun raised and pointed directly at her.

Suzanne didn’t even seem to notice the chief inspector, though, and instead had her eyes firmly fixed on the two musicians behind the car. Slowly she raised her gun again, both hands on its butt, and took a few deliberate steps towards them. Immediately Whitman edged closer to her fireline, trying to avert her attention from the two men.

“You are a pest, Dominic. You destroyed everything. Everything Matthew and I worked for so hard.” Her voice was low but steady and clear, filled with pure contempt.

“Stay where you are!” The CI warned her, but she still ignored him. “Ms Harrison, I’ll have to shoot if you take one more step!”

Dom stared at her in utter horror and Matt pressed into his side, eyes wide open and transfixed on the woman who had brought him so much pain. The blonde wanted to step in front of his friend to protect him, but now his body denied him all further cooperation. He was frozen to the spot, blood pumping in his ears and his heart skipping every second beat. He felt like, any moment now, he would pass out from tension and fear.

The triumphant sneer that emerged on her thin lips suggested that she knew exactly what the drummer was thinking. Her fingers twitched restlessly around the trigger and Whitman set his jaw in grim determination. Then everything seemed to happen at once, like slow motion turned to fast forward.

Suzanne took another step towards them. A shot was fired and sounded through the suffocating silence, pushing everyone’s eardrums to their limits. Matt and Dom squeezed their eyes shut simultaneously. A dull, sickening thud and a barely audible breath being sucked in followed by deafening silence.

When Dom opened his eyes again he saw Suzanne standing there as if frozen in time. Her arms still raised and her eyes wide with shock. He was just about to do something, anything to get away, when he realised what had happened.

At first there was a tiny hole in her blouse which quickly turned a dark shade of red. Then it spread further and further, like a wildfire on a rampage, dousing her chest in blood and death.


A desperate scream brought him back to reality. The singer pushed away from him forcefully and Dom couldn’t hold onto him in time to prevent him from running over to the slowly crumbling form of his former captor.

The blonde watched Matt fall to his knees next to her, wide eyes assessing the damage. Shaking hands flew to Suzanne’s chest and pressed on where the bullet had ripped through her body. Dom took careful steps towards the two of them, his eyes trained on Matt’s face, where fat tears rolled down his cheeks and deep sobs shook his body.

“No, no, no, no,” the singer whispered and his voice actually broke at the end. “Don’t die. Please, you can’t.” Another sob escaped his lips and Dom’s inside turned to knots. Was Matt…

Suzanne turned her gaze to Matt then, her eyes going in and out of focus. A frown marred her face as if she was trying to process something. A trail of blood trickled from her mouth, Dom could see. A clear sign Whitman had hit one of her lungs.

“Matthew,” she finally whispered and coughed with effort. Her body was weak, but she still managed to raise her hand to his cheek. She stroked it softly, and Matt let her, too concentrated on stopping the blood flow from her chest.

“Don’t die,” he repeated. “You can’t. Not after this. Not after everything you’ve put me through.”

“Oh, Matthew.”

Whitman had moved up to them as well now, and stopped next to Dom. He holstered his gun and laid a hand on the drummer’s shoulder, but Dom was frozen to the spot, too horrified by what was going on in front of him. This was so surreal, so out of place. If he hadn’t known any better he would have thought there was a special bond between these two. Well, in a way there was, but not in that way. It shouldn’t be like this.

Another broken cough ripped through her body before Suzanne’s mouth turned into something that could have been a kind and loving smile if they hadn’t known that she was a psychopath.

“You’re so beautiful, Matthew.”

Her hand moved from his cheek to his chin, her thumb lying on Matt’s bottom lip. She whispered, “So beautiful. And yet, so broken and incomplete.”

Her eyes closed and her hand fell, and Matthew let out an animalistic cry.

“No… no,” he panted and Dom reached out with an unsteady hand, wanting to soothe his friend. But he didn’t understand. Matt had been so scared of her and now… He looked like there was nothing he wanted more than to bring her back.

“Mr Bellamy…” Whitman eventually interrupted Matt’s miserable sobs, laid his hands on the smaller man’s shoulders and tried to get him to his feet again. “She’s gone. For good.”

Matt was so close to him and yet Dom had never felt so removed from him. He wanted to understand. Everything was over now, they were safe. Why was Matt acting out like this? Was he suffering from some extreme case of Stockholm Syndrome? It was the only way he could explain it. Maybe Dom had gotten it all wrong, maybe Matt hadn’t been in a state of shock. Maybe he just didn’t want to be saved. But he’d run with Dom, hadn’t he? Why would he have done that if he had wanted to stay with her? The blonde retracted his hand and stood there, silently and unable to understand.

For a second Matt resisted the CI’s attempt at getting him away from the dead body, but then the brunette’s eyes finally fell on the drummer again. Dom wasn’t sure what to make of his pain-ridden expression and he felt completely torn and devastated. This was not fair! It wasn’t right! Fresh tears welled up in the singer’s eyes and before Dom could even think about reacting he had an arm full of Matt pressed against his chest. Surprised, he put his arms around the battered body and rubbed his back.

He still wasn’t sure what was going on inside the brunette’s head, but at least he didn’t blame Dom for anything. Because that had been his biggest fear after Matt’s twisted reaction to his former captor’s death.
“I’m going to call an ambulance and my team. You keep an eye on him,” Whitman said quietly and Dom just nodded, letting Matt soak his shirt with his tears.

Dom moved them to Whitman’s car, far away from Suzanne, and Matt let himself be handled into a sitting position on the back seat once Dom had managed to open the door. The drummer sat in front of him and slung his arms around the singer again, who followed and laid his head back against Dom’s chest. The sobs had subsided and the only sounds the singer made came from his heavy breathing.

Everything felt so calm about them and Dom couldn’t believe the last couple of hours… how long had it been anyway? The sun had gone down some time between them breaking through the glass wall and Suzanne dying outside of what had come to be Matt’s prison. To Dom it seemed like only a few minutes had passed, and yet, it felt like a lifetime.

He looked down at Matt’s dark mop of hair and his breath hitched slightly when he realised that it was all over.

Only minutes later several cars pulled up and Dom could make out the ambulance, closely followed by two more police cars. It took less than a few moments until the street was swarmed with people, paramedics, police officers, the like. Some of them busied themselves with securing the crime scene, others went off to check the house, and two, dressed in neon-yellow jackets, came over to where Matt and Dom were keeping their distance to the corpse.

One of them, a woman, immediately started to examine Dom’s face, dabbed his cuts and the wound with antiseptics, and told him that he might need to get x-rayed at the hospital. The wound didn’t look too bad, but she couldn’t rule out a concussion. Then she proceeded to wrap his head in a light bandage to keep pressure on the wound. He still needed stitches, but she said that it could wait until they were at the hospital. All the while his eyes were fixed on Matt, though. He watched as the other paramedic checked Matt’s pupillary response and spoke to him in a calming voice. Still, Matt looked restless and unable to keep up with the situation.

“Mr Bellamy, your injuries need some closer examination. Do you think you can walk or would it be better if we got the stretcher to carry you over?”

“No! No, I can walk,” Matt replied instantly, almost horrified.

It pained Dom to see how his friend tried to pull himself out of the car with only one hand. His legs still seemed to be a bit uncooperative, but he didn’t accept any help from the paramedics. Why was that? Didn’t Matt trust them? Was it his need to prove that he was at least still able to walk on his own? Was it… his pride kicking in again? The yellow-clad man indulged him patiently, but always stayed close in case Matt needed help, after all.

Dom felt weirdly out of place at that moment. The woman just handed him a shock blanket when he averted his eyes from the singer’s back. But then the unsteady footsteps stopped and instinctively Dom looked up again. Matt watched him over his shoulder, the paramedic still close by. A small frown formed on the brunette’s face.
“Aren’t you coming with me?” Matt’s voice was small and full of… fear. There was still fear.

Immediately the drummer took a step forward, not needing to be asked twice. But then the man next to Matt stepped in.

“Sorry, you have to stay out for the examination,” he said and really did sound sorry.

For a second Dom felt like protesting, but he understood the procedure and eventually just nodded. Then he gave Matt a soft smile and said, “It’s okay, I’ll be waiting outside.” And because he could see Matt’s begging eyes he added, “I promise. I’m not going anywhere.”

The brunette nodded reluctantly and let the paramedic guide him inside the ambulance. The guy apparently understood how important it was for the 2 musicians to see each other, so he made sure the door stayed open a bit. Just a sliver, but enough so Dom could look inside and keep an eye on his friend, and Matt could see Dom standing outside which reassured him greatly and allowed the paramedic to do his job. Dom made a mental note to thank the guy later on.

He watched the paramedics do their work for about 10 minutes until Whitman joined him.

“You okay?” he asked gently and handed Dom a pack of cigarettes. The man already knew him too well, Dom mused.
“I guess so. It’s just… It was a really long day.”

Whitman nodded and lit the cigarette the drummer had taken. They both smoked quietly and let the events of the day pass through their minds.

“Where’s Thompson?”

“Back at the station,” Whitman replied. “He’s wrapping up another case and lets me do the dirty work here.”

“I see.” Dom took a long drag from his cigarette.

“What you did was pretty reckless, Mr Howard.”

A tight knot formed in the pit of the blonde’s stomach. “I know. I’m…” He couldn’t say that he was sorry, it would be a lie. Just because of what he had done Matt was free. He didn’t want to think about how things would have unfolded if he’d followed the CI’s advice. But he remembered what he’d done to get here and that made him feel truly terrible.

“I didn’t want to… do some of these things,” he explained and looked at the ground. “Is he… Is the guard alright?”

“Yes. Just a horrendous headache.”

Dom breathed a sigh of relief.

“But you’re in deep shit now. Knocking out a police officer on duty and fleeing from custody isn’t to be taken lightly.”

The drummer hummed. “I know. And I know you want to hear that I’m sorry and that I regret having done what I did, but I can’t. I am not proud of it, but I don’t regret it. You can do whatever you want with me, I don’t care. Matt is safe, that’s the only thing that counts. So if you’ve come to arrest me, I won’t fight you, but I ask you to wait until one of our mates is with Matt. I don’t want to see him alone right now.”

As if on cue they heard shouting from the side of the street. They both turned their heads to see Chris being held back by a police officer who apparently wouldn’t let him pass. Chris barked something at him that couldn’t be understood. From the way Chris’ face had turned a deep, angry shade of red, it wasn’t anything too polite. Whatever it was, the officer didn’t budge.

“I’ll take care of it,” Whitman told Dom and walked over to the two men.

Dom watched the CI talk to the officer and then turn to Chris to speak with him. The bassist nodded before he moved past the two policemen and ran over to Dom.

The blonde didn’t know what he had expected from the reunion. There still was a lecture to be given because, yes, Dom indeed knew that what he’d done was reckless and stupid, and Chris would definitely get back to it, being the full-time dad that he was. He reckoned there was also the possibility of getting hit in the face. He winced at that thought. He really didn’t want to get his face smashed in right now, but then again, he probably deserved it. He could only guess how worried Chris must have been at the possibility of losing another friend, of losing him. He had to apologise to him as soon as possible.

What he hadn’t expected, however, was Chris grabbing his shoulders and pulling him into a fierce hug. The taller man squeezed him so hard that Dom felt as if his airways were closing up, but he didn’t have the heart to tell his friend. Instead he simply returned the hug.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“I was so scared. I know you told me to hang on and not do anything, but I just… I couldn’t let you run in like that. I- I called Whitman and told him what you were doing. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Dom squeezed the bassist’s shoulder in affection. “I was an idiot. You saved our arses.” And as if realisation settled in just now he repeated, “You saved our lives.”

He suddenly felt dizzy and swayed in the bassist’s arms. Fuck. Yes, Chris had saved them with that call to Whitman. Suzanne could have shot them on the streets. She obviously hadn’t given a flying fuck anymore.

He looked over to where her body had lain. The spot was now empty, the body probably on the way to the morgue already. The only reminder of what had happened were the flecks of dried blood that painted the pavement dark brown.

“She’s dead now. Whitman shot her. She… Matt couldn’t…”

“Matt,” Chris said as if he only realised now that he could see the singer. “Where is he?”

Dom pointed to the ambulance. “In there. He got shot and-”

Chris didn’t waste another second. He grabbed the handle and opened the door to see Matt for himself. A choked gasp escaped his lips when he saw the singer’s shirt that was soaked with blood, some of his own, but mostly Suzanne’s. Without hesitation he jumped inside.

One of the paramedics protested, but Chris wouldn’t listen to them. He touched the frontman’s uninjured shoulder and the singer’s neck until his hands landed on the small chest. Matt’s eyes followed his every movement.

“Are you okay?!” Chris asked frantically. Matt nodded yes.

“He’ll be just fine,” the paramedic that had left the door ajar piped up. “It was just a graze shot. No lasting damage, but he’ll be sore for a while.”

Matt touched Chris’ forearm then and the bassist looked first to his arm before he locked eyes with Matt.

“I’m okay,” Matt said as reassurance, probably not only to Chris and Dom but to himself as well. “I’ll be fine.”

Chris stared into his eyes for a moment longer, trying to gauge if Matt was merely lying to make them feel better or if he was indeed okay. He seemed to find only honesty there and his body relaxed visibly, his nerves calming down. Then, without giving Matt the chance to react, he leaned forward to embrace him much as he’d previously done with Dom. This time, however, the hug was a lot more timid. He didn’t want to injure the singer any further or risk the possibility of breaking him, so he was mindful to be as careful as he could in this situation.

Chris pulled back and ruffled the dark mop of hair. He smiled softly. “Welcome home, mate. It was boring without you.”

Matt returned the smile and closed his eyes.

Dom took the moment to exit the ambulance to give them some private time. If you could call it private with the paramedics being around, that is. He pulled the orange shock blanket higher up on his shoulders and looked around. There was such a stark contrast between the clear night sky with its stars shining brightly and the aggressively flashing red and blue lights of the police cars illuminating the front of the house.

Chris joined him outside the ambulance then and laid an arm around his shoulders. Dom turned his head towards his friend and saw a huge grin spreading on his face. The blonde couldn’t resist and started to grin as well, which in turn led to Chris laughing loudly. Once again, Dom followed him. It was stupid and utterly ridiculous, but what did it matter? Right at this moment, nothing mattered as much as the fact that things would be okay again.

“He’s home,” Chris stated simply once they’d calmed down. Dom could only nod. Yes, home.

Another silence settled in while the bassist looked his friend over. After a considerable amount of time he commented, “Your face looks smashed, mate.”

“Gee, thanks,” Dom sighed dramatically. It felt good to be able to joke again. “Guess I won’t be winning sexiest man in music this time around.”

“Nope, definitely not. But that has nothing to do with the cuts, really.”

Dom nudged his friend’s shoulder who faux-yelped then and the blonde couldn’t help but grin again. Yes, it definitely felt good.

One of the paramedics peeked out of the door and addressed them. “We need to take Mr Bellamy to the hospital. He’s mostly fine, but he needs to get checked properly and the wound on his shoulder needs to get stitched. One of you can drive with us.”

“Go ahead, mate,” Chris said and pushed him towards the door.

He couldn’t. Dom visibly deflated. Whitman would arrest him now that Chris was here to take care of Matt.
“I…” Dom whispered. “You should go with him.”

“What? Don’t you want to?”

The blonde turned to his friend with sad eyes. “I’m going to prison, Chris. You know what I did. They won’t… I can’t…”

His courage and determination quickly ebbed away once the adrenaline had worn off. Yes, he still didn’t regret what he’d done, but he wasn’t so brave as to face the consequences anymore. He wanted to go with Matt and stay with him, not rot away in a cell. Not to mention what he’d done to his reputation, and, in extension, the band’s reputation. He’d ruined their careers and his life. But what did it matter when Matt was breathing and moving and smiling and living?

Right in this moment Whitman walked up to them with a small notepad in his hand. Dom sighed and patted Chris on the shoulder. Wordlessly he met Whitman halfway.

“Mr Howard, shouldn’t you be inside this ambulance?”

Dom frowned at that. “I told you, you can arrest me once Chris is here. Well, he is now, so…”

“I never said I was here to arrest you, Dominic,” the CI said softly.


“I think you will agree when I say that your escape was a desperate attempt to prove your innocence and that mitigating circumstances apply, don’t you think?”

“But…” Dom was at a loss for words.

“Go. Be with Mr Bellamy. I will take care of everything here. Just, please, this time, do as I say.”

Had Whitman just… had he just told Dom he’d cover for him? That, maybe, there was a chance to turn things around and Dom could get out of this without severe consequences?

“Go. Now.”

The drummer could only nod dumbfoundedly and turned back to the ambulance. Chris was already halfway inside but once he saw Dom approaching he retreated and made room for Dom to squeeze in.

“I’ll see you at the hospital,” he said and ran back to his car.

Dom watched him disappear behind the police line and took the last step inside. He sat down next to Matt’s head.

“I’m back,” he said and caressed the brunette’s hair.

Matt smiled up at him, “Hi.”

“Hello,” Dom replied warmly, and couldn’t help but kiss his singer again. “Are you feeling better?”

For a moment Matt seemed to ponder that question. Dom could literally see the brunette’s emotions and thoughts flick through his head while he pulled his brows together. But then, finally, he said, “Yeah… yeah, I guess I do. How are you?” The smaller man raised one hand and gingerly moved two fingers along the outline of the bandage over Dom’s wound, seeming completely transfixed by the action.

“I’m fine,” the drummer replied offhandedly. “Don’t worry.”

“I’m sorry, but I need to attach the IV now,” the friendly paramedic interrupted them as he climbed into the ambulance again.

Dom scooted over a bit to make room for the man, but didn’t take his eyes off his rescued friend. While letting the man do his work, Matt did the same. But soon his eyes started to droop and he had to suppress a yawn. No wonder considering what they had gone through. What he had gone through.

“Sorry,” the singer mumbled and rubbed at his eyes with his free hand.

“It’s okay,” Dom replied quietly. “‘s all good. You need to rest, anyway. Just… don’t worry. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Promise?” Matt’s voice was quiet and very sleepy already.

“Promise,” the blonde assured him with a soft smile on his lips. “Promise.”

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