And smile.
And smile.
Nothing was happening.
His body stood stiffly over the bunk, eyes forced to stare down at the sleeping blonde, the knife threatening to end the precious life residing there at any moment. Nothing was happening.
Matt noticed that his hand was quivering. His knuckles were white with their death-grip on the knife as he held its blade mere centimeters from Dominic Howard's bare chest. With each deep, sleep-heavy breath, the drummer's delicate skin came dangerously close to touching the metal.
The Thing had gone quiet.
Hello?
...
No response.
Matt tried to take a deep, steadying breath, only to remember that he wasn't in control of his lungs. He groaned internally at the discomfort.
The man below him murmured softly again, the sound causing a stabbing pain in the singer's heart.
I won't kill Dominic. I can do this. It's my body and I have control.
He set his mind on movement. The brunette put every ounce of his willpower into getting that knife away from Dominic. His hand quivered more violently and his knuckles became whiter as his grip tightened around the handle.
Not trying hard enough. Won't kill Dom. I will not fucking hurt Dom.
Adrenaline surged through his system as the singer tried with every fiber of his being to take back control. He could feel the energy coursing through him as his breathing became more rapid, all of his senses heightened painfully. He could hear the blood rushing through his ears and feel it pulsing in his neck, his thin frame shaking violently with the rush of adrenaline longing to be put to use.
Move.
Move!
Shaking, struggling, not moving. The adrenaline uselessly coursing through his system was an almost unbearable torture. He could have sworn he heard himself whimper aloud.
The singer's facial muscles were beginning to hurt and he noticed that he was still smiling.
Unbearable torture.
He was forced to keep enduring it.
Matt wasn't sure how long he stood there, violently shaking as he prayed for the adrenaline to dissipate, knife held above that unimaginably precious chest but never lowering to touch it. Seconds blurred into minutes and minutes into hours as the night continued endlessly. He didn't want to stop paying attention, didn't want to stop fighting, but dissociation was the only way he could get through this with his sanity in tact.
Hours. Spinning inside his head, alternating between reality and some far-away place where none of this was happening. A few times during the night Dom stirred and shifted, nearly giving Matt a heart-attack as he tried in vain to move the blade out of the way, but the cold metal never touched the tan skin.
At some point, which must have been early morning judging by the faint light spilling into Dominic's bunk from his window, the Thing had the audacity to speak to him.
"That was fun. You should get to bed."
Matt couldn't respond. He was dazed and on the verge of hysterics, the feelings bottled up internally as a smile stayed plastered on his face.
Finally, finally, the knife lifted away from Dominic, his body placing it on the counter before turning back to the bunk area. He let himself get lost inside his head as the Thing got ready for bed for him, brushing his teeth and stripping off his clothes before climbing into the top bunk.
It was going to let him sleep.
Why was it...?
Don't trust...
He drifted off.