Delilah's World

Title: Lithium
Author: mjartrod
Pairing: Belldom
Warning: Non-AU. Not a native English speaker.
Disclaimer: I do not own Muse.

Summary: Chris finds himself unexpectedly cornered in the dressing room after rehearsals.

Author's Notes: Lithium is a chemical element; its atomic number is 3. It is believed to be one of only three elements (together with hydrogen and helium) produced in significant quantities by the Big Bang. Synthesis of these elements took place within the first three minutes of the universe's existence.
Shout out to allwithwings as I was catching up the other day with "Grey" and there was a scene in the last chapter posted that, together with other things, inspired this.

I know, it's been awhile.




Grand Metrópole, São Paulo (Brazil)
Wednesday, 2^nd April 2014


As if they didn’t have enough shit at the moment as it was.

Chris washed his hands in the sink and lifted one to water his face, feeling the layer of sweat that covered his skin sticking to his fingers. Last time he’d been to South America he’d been ill for two weeks, taken down by stomach flu. Two bloody days in Brazil was all it took this time. Two bloody days and he was already making a sprint for the loo in the band’s dressing room. He hadn’t eaten or drunk anything in the street or out of the restaurants yet, for fuck’s sake, why did his body persist in being such a bastard? Shame they hadn’t brought Peter to Brazil, he was going to be in dire need of diet food for the next couple days.

Didn’t seem to matter how fit he was or how healthy his meals were, it disgusted him to see how his body kept letting him down. He rubbed hard at his eyes and looked at his reflexion in the mirror, lifting his chin defiantly. Like hell was he gonna allow himself to wander into darker thoughts, beating himself up again, wallow in anger and self-pity. About all the years during which he mistreated his stomach, his body. Countdown to five years of sobriety was coming to an end. Kelly thought he was unaware of her special plans for the day but he knew better, of course. He knew her.

He hastily placed his hands under the hand dryer, then rubbed his tummy with a grimace. Definitely no footie match this time around. Least he didn’t need to worry about having to make a dash to the toilets the following night while on stage. Small comfort for the disaster that had stricken them. At that very moment, Dom Anderson and Tom were working on the announcement that would be posted on the website even before sunrise, informing that the Grand Metropole date was cancelled. Fans were going to be fucking thrilled, no doubt about that. The gang mentality when something didn’t appease their liking was a bloody nightmare. Sod’s law that after three months off tour they had flown all the way to Brazil only to cancel a gig and who knew how the one on Saturday would go. Doctors had advised Matt to stay on complete vocal rest and were they the ones to decide, that headlining slot at Lollapalooza wouldn’t be happening in the first place. But unless his health was jeopardised, pulling out wasn’t really an option. The sheer amount of pissed off people, bad press, plus the money matters linked to missing a commitment of that magnitude... They’d have to make do somehow, give it their best shot. The show must go on. 

To no one’s surprise, no one was more pissed about the whole ordeal than Matt himself. He’d made everyone stick around in the venue rehearsing until sodding three in the morning trying to make it work but it’s not like there was much to do, was there? It’s not like he sounded like a strangled cat and a bit of rehearsing would do the trick, like sometimes it happened when he had a cold. His voice just didn’t come out, it was shocking. Twenty years in the band and for the first time ever they had to cancel a gig cos their singer had lost his voice. 

Didn’t take a crystal ball to guess that in the days to come Matt would turn into an insufferable tosser too, mute mode on or not. He’d sulk, would take it out on someone else. Everyone was upset but being a cock about it only made everything more difficult. That’s how things went though and there wasn’t much to be done about it. Let Dom or Glen deal with his bullshit.

He supposed that one lesson could be learnt from this episode: it gave them perspective. Next time they’d debrief after a show and got lost in details, things that didn’t work like Dom playing a song too slowly, or Matt botching a solo up, they’d do well to remember this week before deeming it as a terrible performance. 

Stepping out into the small hallway that led to the dressing room, Chris was expecting to be met with a clear, empty room but he wasn’t the last one backstage after all. Through the sliding glass doors that separated the hallway from the living area, he could see both his bandmates still in there. Sitting face to face, Dom was perched on a stool with his back to Chris, leaving Matt in full view directly opposite him on a sofa. The latter was bent at the waist, elbows on his knees and heels of his hands pressed against the eyes. Face hidden behind his hands and the Kurt Cobain hair he was sporting lately (many jokes about middle age crisis had been made already), he seemed to be laughing by the way his shoulders shook and his body trembled. 

Chris was literally holding the edge of the door to open it wider when he heard a choked sob. He froze on the spot and looked at them again in shock. Fucking hell. Was that... was Matt crying? 

Dom was patting his leg, talking softly, as you do when you’re comforting someone... Chris missed entirely what he’d said. Matt did not cry. In twenty years, he’d seen him in tears once, when they were still cutting their teeth as a live band. They’d just finished their set in some shithole in Devon and a suit in the small attendance had advised him and Dom to ditch their frontman and find a new one because Matt was too shy and it would hold them back from a brilliant future. It’d been a ridiculous statement even back then but Matt took the criticism hard. It seemed to be that same long haired boy he was seeing now, Dom by his side offering support.

Pity and sympathy filled him. None of them had ever had to battle laryngitis before but after watching Matt struggling at rehearsals, frustration pouring out of him in every manner, Chris hoped he’d never have to endure that misfortune. He hadn’t realised how badly it had affected their singer, though. Maybe he was more concerned about long-term damage to the vocal chords than he’d been letting on too. Because it wasn’t like him to break down like that. Rather, it wasn’t like him to break down in that fashion. When things didn’t go his way he’d swear, make a scene, pick up a fight, annoy the fuck out of everyone. It was exhausting. He didn’t do tears.

Not an easy year so far for his bandmate, he could tell. Things were picking up again, but the ups and downs at home with Kate were taking their toll. There had never been lack of drama in Matt’s personal life, that’s for sure, but now with a kid in the mix things had been raised to another level. Being a father himself, he was well aware of what it was like to put someone else ahead of everything, the need to protect your offspring from whatever problems riddled your life. They made the good stuff all the sweeter but hell, the bad could be overpowering such was the effort it took to keep them unaffected and out of it.

Matt had shared with Chris his own insecurities regarding his ability to be a good father. But despite telling him that questioning oneself about parenthood was all part of the deal (how often did he wonder the same?) and he’d just have to go with the flow, Chris knew his bandmate would do fine. He was convinced there was no obstacle or challenge he couldn’t overcome.

He always had, Matt seemed fucking indestructible. The amount of energy and strength that burst out of that twat was mind-blowing. He’d never let himself be tamed in any way, not even physically despite being a short arse. Never going down without putting up a fight. They wouldn’t always be in agreement and as years went by they’d often choose different paths in their lives outside the band but Chris trusted him with his life. Matt’s drive and his gut instinct when it came to decision-making had been a lifesaver. He’d be well on the way to his grave if the other two hadn’t been so firm about the band’s future. Nothing they could’ve said or done would have been more effective than making it clear that Muse would be over soon if their bassist didn’t get his shit together. He wished he could be able to say he’d been strong enough to go to rehab on his own, on the strength of his convictions and dreams. But indeed it had been because of his family and because of this band that he was a survivor and he could never allow himself to forget that.

Matt was leaning back on the couch, smoothing back his hair and wiping at his nose. He was obviously trying to will the tears away by the way he was looking up at the ceiling, blinking. Chris could see red-rimmed eyes from his standing point and it disturbed him. He shifted in discomfort, thankful for the darkened hallway disguising his presence. Of course he hadn’t meant to stumble upon that scene but it still felt like he was prying on a private moment. Christ, was he eager to get away but there was no way to slip past them unnoticed. Should he wait until they left? Walk out and pretend he was unaware of what was going on? Everyone else was already gone, how long until one of them got a call or Glen showed up to fetch them and have them shipped back to the hotel?    

Seeing a mate in that state was something you never wished to happen, but if Dom shared any of his uneasiness, he certainly was doing a brilliant job at dealing with it. He had a knack of always knowing what to do and how to behave around others, always had. These days, Chris had even less in common with his drummer than with Matt outside Muse but respecting each other’s lifestyles was a rule they’d set many years ago and one none of them had ever broken. That Dom got mixed up with some dodgy crowds once in a while hardly mattered either when he was so loyal to his inner circle of friends. Chris valued his friendship and his work ethic. After Kelly, Dom had been the first person he’d shown his songs to during the recording process for “The 2^nd Law”. Asking him to come ‘round to his was a no-brainer. It’s not that he feared Matt wouldn’t be supportive and the fact that he was the band’s chief songwriter also didn’t intimidate Chris greatly. He just knew Dom would be the right person to help him build some self-confidence even if he found the songs to be a pile of shit that belonged in the bin. 

Likewise, Matt had probably known their drummer would be the person in front of whom he could let it all out now. Forever his favourite target, Dom allowed their frontman to get away with far too much in Chris’ opinion. But he was also the only one who could reach out to Matt no matter what, which wasn’t a small feat. He just knew how to handle him. 

Then again, the two of them had always been like that, hadn’t they? Connected. It was uncanny. Chris couldn’t ever claim to feel left out. After all, so much of what he had or hadn’t done over the years was purely based on his decisions and choices and never on how anyone else treated him. But it was undeniable that it was different between those two, from the start. The complicity, the banter... Always very tactile too, Chris was convinced that at one point they lived to wind everyone up. He shrugged it off, ignored it. Tom was the same, they were used to it. It was the way they were. 

It was different now, what with growing up (which took fucking forever), the band’s and their frontman’s public profiles gradually changing. Despite still having his hands full in the studio when they recorded, most of the juvenile crap was gone these days. 

“Sorry.” Matt’s hoarse voice cracked through his thoughts and Chris instinctively stepped back deeper into the shadows. Fuck, he really didn’t want to be spotted. “Fucking embarrassing.”

“You’re not supposed to talk, remember? Do we need to duct tape you?” Dom was rewarded with a tiny smile in return. Sliding off the stool, he crouched down in front of him, in the space between his legs, hands landing on their friend’s knees. “You need to calm down, ‘s not helping any to get like this. Shit happens, what matters is that you recover and yeah, you will. We know you don’t want to but if you can’t do it on Saturday, sod it, we’ll cancel it.”

Matt’s shoulders sagged as he bent forward again, so close to Dom that for a moment Chris thought they’d bump heads. But he only lowered his head further, lower until his forehead was resting on Dom’s shoulder. Across the other shoulder, one hand reached for the back of the blond’s neck. Chris could also see one of Dom’s hands casually inching up Matt’s leg. And Matt didn’t bat an eyelid. As you don’t when it comes to familiar touch. Chris told himself that no, he didn’t think anything of that, why would he? And yet he couldn’t tear his eyes away from that hand, oddly hypnotised. It was like a magnet. 

When Dom turned his face sideways towards Matt’s, that was when everything went in slow motion and Chris was suddenly hyper-aware of all happening in front of him, as if in 4K resolution. Of a thin hand spreading over the back of Dom’s neck to grip the sweaty strands of hair, of Matt’s head tilting up, of Dom stroking his thigh. He could see long thin fingers tightening on blond hair, Dom’s hand cupping the side of his bandmate’s face, he could see Matt’s eyes shut as they kissed hard and deep. He heard the sound they made when they parted and noticed how the tension in the posture of the man sitting on the couch cleared as he sighed against Dom’s collarbone. 

Chris slowly turned away from the scene. He’d stopped breathing. His mind was blank.

Slowly turning to them again, he swallowed thickly watching as Dom kneeled on the floor, Matt nuzzling up against his skin.  

Uncomfortable warmth crept from his neck up to his ears and he broke into a light sweat. Was the door locked? Heart racing, he peered around to check if there was any chance that someone else could walk in. The door was shut alright but he’d bumped his hand against the sliding glass door he was leaning onto, making a racket as it fucking rattled all over.

Matt’s head shot up, eyes widening as they locked with his. Dom looked over his shoulder too and they let go of each other, trying to play it casual. Dom stood up while Matt remained on the couch, looking away from both as he coughed.

“You’re… thought you’d left.” Dom’s voice had a slight edge to it.

Chris was only aware he had been gaping when the first word forced its way out of his mouth. “No. I uh.” He pointed back with his thumb. “Toilet. Was just leaving.”

“Oh.”

They knew. Matt wouldn’t face him and Dom was staring intently at the floor. Whatever his expression had shown, they’d read him like an open book and they fucking knew he’d seen it. 

Crossing the dressing room towards the exit on legs that weighted like lead, he found himself stopping at the doorway. “Should I,” he cleared his throat. “Do you want me to get Glen for you or-“

“Yeah, yeah. We’re ready to leave. We were just… yeah.”

Chris nodded and continued without a glance back.



It could’ve been worse. It wasn’t complete shambles, no, but fuck it that was the hardest gig he’d had to do in a long time. Matt had put all embarrassment and pride behind his back and had exposed himself to everyone in a way he rarely did these days. The fans had soaked it up. No, it wouldn’t stop the poor reviews but they’d done their job the best they could under the circumstances. 

They were asked about the possibility of sanctioning some footage for a TV broadcast while still in the van that drove them from the festival site but before someone had the chance to articulate a sentence, Matt was already shaking his head and rapidly signalling with his index finger that no, they wouldn’t allow it. 

Kelly had already texted, asking about the gig, and he replied back. Shit, he couldn’t wait to see her and the kids but it was almost a week until they flew in and it seemed so far away. Everyone commented on how quiet it was with Matt resorting to scribbling everything in the little notebook Dom Anderson had gotten him instead of being the usual motormouth; Tom had been the only one who’d noticed, or at least mentioned to Chris directly, how the bassist looked a bit jaded and questioned whether he was alright. Chris had told him his digestive system was acting up again but that he was on the mend already. He didn’t think Tom bought it.

Ready for a one-on-one with his Xbox after a proper meal, Chris spotted out of the corner of his eye both his bandmates with a few fans. The fans left after albums had been signed and pictures had been taken but they remained there, talking to each other. Matt gesticulating wildly, Dom nodding with a slight smile on his lips. He hadn’t seen them alone with each other since Wednesday night and he allowed himself to observe them guardedly. The way they stood so close to each other, how Matt’s hand shot to Dom’s shoulder when Morgan went past them and they had to step aside to make room, how Dom leaned towards him to say something in his ear when music was suddenly blasted from the speakers. It was as it had always been. No more or less intimacy. He felt like everything had changed and yet, had it really?

He hadn’t come to terms with what he’d witnessed and he didn’t know when he would. His world felt slightly off-kilter. It seemed impossible to go through so many emotions at the same time about something that in a way was none of his business. Because it wasn’t, was it? Regardless of how much he could be affected, those were their own affairs and not something he had the right to meddle in. The shock had been followed by anger, by stupid betrayal, by fear, by resignation, by acceptance and then the cycle would start again, in a loop. How he wished he had never seen what he did or that he could forget it all; but that wasn’t obviously happening. He alternated between wanting to know the exact extent of their actions, plagued with a million questions that sprung to mind, and desperately wishing he’d stop wondering about it, afraid of what the answers for said questions would be. He also switched between wondering whether he was the only person who knew or whether he was the only one who didn’t. 

As it was, the three carried on as normal, pretending the elephant in the room wasn’t there. 



He’d known something was up when Dom quietly slid onto the seat next to his in the plane. They had been en route to LA for a few hours when Morgan got up from his seat and Dom claimed it. He braced himself for what was to come but the fucker didn’t say anything, only sat there reading a magazine. Probably gathering the balls to broach the subject, as Chris knew he would. 

Jet lag was a bitch and being unable to fall asleep was making the flight feel even longer than it was. Gaming wasn’t holding his attention; he lost interest halfway through “Anchorman 2” and decided to watch it later; listening to music wasn’t distracting enough either to keep his mind off things. Maybe he should start making that list of places to take Ava to visit in LA, she’d been badgering him about Hollywood non-stop. He hadn’t heard her gush over that silly twat Bieber in a long time, he supposed this was a bit of an improvement. He had to get on with booking the Disney tickets too and check out properly that tournament in France Alfie wanted to go to. He promised Kelly he’d take care of that and he’d been postponing it. Hopefully Teddi had slept better the past night and the latest bout of cough was gone for good. 

He’d been dozing off, drifting to a nice little fantasy that involved a free night with Kelly and strawberries, when Dom’s voice reached his ears. 

“You asleep?”

“Not anymore,” he grunted. He knew what was coming and he didn’t feel ready for it. Not for apologies or excuses or explanations of any sort.

“If there is anything you ever want to ask… you know you can, yeah?”

He didn’t know what to say to that. Dom fidgeted in his seat and he could hear him gulping. Took him hours to speak up and the nervousness hadn’t gone away. 

“What’s the thing you most fear? You know what I’m on about.” Dom insisted. 

He sure did. He wasn’t asking him about what he most feared in life. Easy answer, at any rate. Surprisingly, the answer to this question came to him almost as effortlessly. If he were to say what he and the rest of the band most feared in regards to their music, to their career, stagnation would be it. They’d once been told they treated it like a phobia. But if Chris was completely honest with himself, that was just about the only aspect of his life where he didn’t seek constancy. Apart from that, he was exactly like everybody else, resistant to the same things.

“Change.” He finally answered.

Dom twitched again but this time his demeanour changed. Crossing his legs, shoulders relaxed. “What if I told you that, you know, nothing changed?”

It floored Chris. Sure, he’d considered it. But… 

“Nothing changed?”

A boyish smile with a little hint of wickedness spread on Dom’s face and that was all he got for an answer. It made him chuckle and he looked outside to the landscape of layers of clouds. Fucking twats. Dom patted his arm with a smile, pointing to another row of seats to let him know he was getting back to Tom’s side and Chris shook his head at him in mock disapproval. When he leaned his head onto his seat, he fell asleep almost instantly.


Los Angeles greeted them brightly, its usual sunny self. A pool sounded just about the perfect place to be once they’d collected their stuff. 

They were all standing around the conveyor belt waiting for their luggage to be delivered when he noticed Matt and Dom giggling and then the singer pushing Dom and motioning for him to move somewhere. Apparently, to where Chris stood. The drummer had a sheepish smile on and a piece of paper folded in his hand. 

“This is for you,” and he gave it to him. What the fuck? He couldn’t help but look all the way over to Matt, who was watching with ill-disguised anticipation.

“Well you can tell Matt that Valentines was on February.” He unfolded it anyway. It contained a single word, in Matt’s untidy scrawling. 


W A N K E R


When he looked up, he saw Tom, Morgan, Glen and a couple of others all laughing. He stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets casually and strode towards them. Matt was cowering behind Dom but then took off in a hurry around the conveyor belt, mindless of other passengers looking on, Chris bolting right after him. 

He couldn’t care less about Matt’s fucked up throat - he was going to throttle the little bastard.