Map of Your Head

Chapter 5: "I have my reasons"

(There's so much sass in this part and I love it)

Matt's POV

I sit in the music room alone; my back against the wall, my eyes closed, and an acoustic guitar across my lap. I've been in here for over and hour but I haven't played a single thing. I guess simply holding an instrument is enough to calm me down. Even if it's just for a little while.

I didn't hear the door open, but I certainly hear it shut. I open my eyes to see Dom walking over and sitting down in front of me.

"You should play something for me," he says, nodding to the guitar lying across my legs. I bite my lower lip awkwardly before shaking my head. "C'mon Matt. Please?"

I roll my eyes before adjusting the guitar and playing a simple chord. I glare at him with a raised eyebrow as if to say 'There. Happy?' as sarcastically as I can.

"Not what I meant, but that's clearly all I'm getting," he says, leaning back and using him palms to support him. Dom looks up to the ceiling and I look to the cuts on his arm. There doesn't appear to be any new ones...

"So do you know any sign language?" Dom asks, his eyes still fixated on the ceiling as if there was something written there and he's reading it over and over. I take out a pen and piece of paper from my pocket.

Some but I rarely use it. Why? Do you?

"I just figured that if I learned, conversation with you would be easier," he sighs, finally looking at me. 

Don't bother. This is way easier.

"For you maybe, but your handwriting is... something else," Dom mutters, sliding so he's sitting next to me.

Thanks

"That wasn't a compliment."

It's hard to portray sarcasm when you can't speak

He laughs slightly to himself before standing up and motioning for me to follow. Cramming the paper and pen back into my pocket and placing the guitar back on it's stand, I jump up and chase after Dom who had already left the room.

I find him in the "garden" which is actually just a small patch of grass with one young tree that almost looks sad. In terms of going outdoors, this all we get. It's one of the things that makes this place feel like a prison. Dom is shaking slightly, but it's not even remotely cold out here. He sees me and notices my stare.

"I'm going through a bit of withdrawal. Haven't had a cigarette since the day I got here," he mutters, sitting down in the grass. He motions for me to do the same and I don't hesitate.

You don't strike me a smoker

"I used it as a way to help cope with my anxiety," Dom sighs, looking up to the grey sky. "But I don't see how quitting will do me any harm." 

I'm sure your lungs will appreciate it

He doesn't respond. Instead, he scratches at the cuts on his forearm. I grab him by the wrist, forcing him to stop. "I don't see why you'd care about someone like me," he mumbles, pulling his wrist out from my grasp.

I have my reasons

"Like what?"

Maybe that's for me to know and for you to find out