Title: Black Swan
Author: musadinessuno
Beta: thekeyholder
Pairing: Belldom
Rating: overall R, PG-13 this part
WARNINGS: teenage angst and pointe shoes (yesss)
Summary: young Matt Bellamy has a secret he can no longer hide: he's a ballet dancer.
Disclaimer: I do not own Muse, I swear (although, I'll admit it, I had the best conversations of my life with the poster on my wall). This story is a work of fiction and no offence was ever intended.
Author's Note: just a quick re-post on my journal as someone pointed out it's easier to keep track of comments this way ♥




He was dancing.


Darkness surrounded him as he moved on the tips of his toes, the world beneath closed eyelids, the beating of his own heart the only music he could hear.

It felt like a dream – was it a dream? he wondered – yet he could still feel the strain in his calves as he turned his knees out, the joy of the jump as he lifted off the floor and that wonderful, gravity-defying feeling of lightness as he floated in the air like a feather…

But then everything stopped.

He landed on his heel, his ankle rolling inwards as he failed to keep his balance – “the spell can’t be broken,” he heard himself say – and that was when he heard it, the music, finally, that Moderato e Maestoso that led through the final scene on the enchanted lake.
He was a swan. No, he was The Swan, and he was falling, and falling, and falling...

“The spell can’t be broken...”



Matthew woke with a start.




“Saywhat?!”


Tom jumped from his spot on the grass as he gestured towards Dominic who was still sipping nonchalantly on his can of soda, as if no one had ever interrupted him.

“What do you mean ‘she’s not even that fit’ – are you blind?!”

“I also think she got a nose job or something,” Dom continued, probably just to get on Tom’s nerves. “I don’t know, she’s got a weird nose, mate, it’s like it doesn’t suit her face, you know?”

Tom shook his head in disbelief. “You’re a lost cause,” he blurted out. “You’re a fucking lost cause. Hottest girl in our year asks you out and you, you what, you just say no because her nose doesn’t suit her face?!”

He turned to look at Matthew who was leaning with his back against the wooden fence as he tried to read through his history paper. “Matt,” Tom called, openly asking for help. “Matt, mate, tell him.”

“Tell him what,” said Matt, somehow refusing to give Tom the support he was looking for by avoiding to look him in the eyes. Secretly, he agreed with Dom – he didn’t like Pat much himself, and her nose... well, the way it stretched her upper lip whenever she smiled was rather weird; plus, her posture was too tense, her walk ungracious, her boobs too big...

If Matt had to be honest, he wasn’t even sure if he liked girls at all, but he kept that to himself. He straightened his back against the fence and started reading through another page of his paper. However, he could still feel Tom’s eyes on him, while Dom was puffing out smoke from a freshly lit cigarette, and Chris was approaching in the background.

“‘Morning, idiots,” he heard Chris say. “Matthew,” he then added, cocking his head a bit towards him.

Matt lifted his eyes for a moment, his own way to say hello. He saw Dom letting out a silent, smoky laugh as he tossed the empty soda can at Tom, making him squeal in protest as it hit him square in the chest. Behind him, Chris gave a loud chuckle before plopping down on the grass between the two of them, Dom now busy balling up his lunch bag and aiming it at Tom.

He felt a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He was grateful for his friends, really, he was. They were cool, they were fun – heck, they were the best – but sometimes he just couldn’t help but wonder why’d they chosen to become friends with him in the first place; Matt was the shy, taciturn boy who read those super-fucking-boring books and hid a stash of old classical records in his bedroom.

They simply didn’t have anything in common, except the school they all attended.

“You coming to see The Hulk tonight?”

Dom paused in his bombing mission long enough to give Matt his accomplished “you just can’t say no again” stare. Tom took advantage of the temporary truce to throw a book back at him, missing Dom’s head with several meters and hitting Chris’ arm instead.

Chris took the book from his lap and handed it back to him with a warning glare. “Which one is it?” he asked. “The really bad one or the really bad one?”

“The really bad one with Liv Tyler,” said Tom, wiggling his dark eyebrows as if to make a point. “It’s actually a lot better than Lee’s one, though, isn’t it?”

“Don’t know about it. Lee’s Hulk was kinda boring, but it still had -”

“You’re not coming, are you?”

Dom didn’t look directly at Matt when he spoke, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out just who he was referring to. Matt never went to any of the guys' movie nights, nor did he indulge in any kind of after-school activity with them. He knew it drove Dom mad – Chris and Tom had already given up on him, although they still asked him to join them everytime – but Dom simply couldn’t drop it.

It made Matt’s heart swell a bit in his chest, as if he didn’t already feel guilty enough for not telling them about… no, he just couldn’t do it.

“Earth to Matt, hello?”

He wished he had the courage to tell them, simple as it was: sorry, guys, I have to train tonight. Margareth signed me up for some kind of audition for an in-the-round production of Swan Lake, it’s just in two weeks, but she said I can totally get Siegfried’s role if I work hard enough… oh, and yeah, by the way, I’ve been taking ballet classes for three years now. I just bloody love it.

“I - I don’t think I can make it, tonight, I’m sorry,” he said instead, trying to avoid making eye-contact with Dom while he spoke. He knew the blond was still watching him.

“Dad’s away for work this week and I have to look after Nana.”

That excuse always worked, although they all knew it was actually a lie. Well, not all of it – his father was away for work, he always was, but they’d all met Matt’s grandma and saw with their own eyes that she was more than able to look after herself, and after her grandson too.

“Maybe next week,” he tried, his voice almost a whisper. “We could take a walk together after school, there’s this -”

“A walk, seriously?” Dom interrupted him, flexing his jean-clad legs as he made to get up. “Jesus, not just a bloody liar,” he spat, his sneer all shades of derisive. “You’re also boring as fuck!”

Matt’s arms flinched against his sides as he tried to gather his thoughts for an adequate comeback, but it was too late; Dom was already walking away from the group, leaving Chris and Tom to deal with him.

For a minute, none of them dared to speak a word. Matt’s hands were shaking like leaves by the time he was done folding his papers and putting them back in the bag, his lunch lying in its box on the grass beside him, untouched, forgotten.

“I’m -” going, he tried to say, but no voice came out to help him.

He tried to get up then, but his whole body just said no.

“Are you ok?” Tom asked after a while. When he realised he wasn’t going to get any reply from Matt, he got on his knees and crawled from his spot to his friend’s side, touching Matt's arm for a bit.

“I swear, he’s worst than a fucking girl sometimes,” he murmured, gently squeezing Matt’s shoulder over his worn-out grey coat. “Just ignore him. He’ll come to his senses, eventually, you just… you - err,” he stopped, glancing at the spot Dom had occupied before he decided to fuck off, then back at Matt, all red cheeks and liquid blue eyes. “You know you can tell us anything, right?” he said in the end, eyebrows shooting up in what he hoped was a reassuring way.

Dumbstruck, Matt found himself nodding some kind of agreement.

Part of him was raging to go after Dom and tell him that he wasn’t a bloody liar, that he actually had something to do and wasn’t just avoiding them for fun, or because he didn’t enjoy their company. The other part, though, wished for the ground to open up and swallow him that very moment, because he was, indeed, a bloody liar – he was such a big, fucking lying pussy – and God, was he tired of being like that, was he tired of having to hide for no reason, if not for shame?

“Look, you don’t have to tell us anything if you don’t want to,” said Chris in that moment, somehow answering Tom’s question for him. “Just, you know. You may want to come up with new excuses from time to time. A dead cat, a rollerblade race competition, fucking tutu shopping for the upcoming ballet - ”

“Male ballet dancers do not wear tutus,” snapped Matt, his nostrils flaring as he fought to remember how to breathe properly.

Chris’ hands shoot up to his face as he tried to release some of his own pent-up frustration. “Whatever,” he growled, impatient fingers pulling at his curly hair. “They still look like bloody poofs to me, ay? But seriously, Matt, you’re missing the point here, it’s not – oi, just where do you think you’re going now?”

But Matt was already pushing past Tom’s spread arms, his heart pounding madly in his chest as he turned around to pick up his stuff from the grass. “I’m going home,” he retorted, staring at Chris as he lifted his left arm in a mock fifth en haut goodbye. “See, I have to get ready for my ballet class.”

“Cut the drama, Matt, seriously -”

“Oh, but I am serious, Chris. I’m just so serious, you have no idea.”

He didn’t wait for a reply, nor did he stop when he heard Tom calling after him. His feet floated like smoke on the wet grass as he ran, his breath catching up in his throat, and soon he was slipping through the main gate, down the street, the light sea breeze soaking his lungs with newly found sadness.