Seeing the Light (6/?)
Apr. 28th, 2009 05:57 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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vigorliTitle: Seeing the Light
Author: Snow Days
Rating: PG 13 for language and general emotional trauma.
Pairing: OB/VM
Summary: When Orlando is diagnosed with an incurable, but treatable, disease, he loses all hope and love of life. Can Viggo help him see the path he strayed from? OB/VM
Feedback: Of course.
Disclaimer: Never happened. Not pretending it did. Don’t know anyone featured in this story, complete fiction, just for fun, etc. Also, I don’t have this disease, and any symptoms are researched, not experienced. I’m sorry if I hurt anybody with this material.
************
Orlando woke to the sound of his alarm clock beeping. He groaned and reached across to switch it off, wincing as a spark of pain flared across his spine from this movement. Fuck. He’d slept all night – or day – in the same position.
He got up slowly and hobbled toward the shower. Sighing in relief as hot water cascaded over his back, he leant back against the wall of the shower and tried to think of something other than the sharp pain in his back and his drooping eyelids.
He thought of the pain in his stomach.
It was still there, the horrid, nauseous feeling; not quite as bad as last night had been, but bad enough that he felt repulsed at even the thought of food. There was also the occasional pain that, while not immediately crippling, was certainly enough to get him extremely annoyed.
He turned off the water and moved into the kitchen, the pain in his back having let up slightly with the heat of the water. He took his pills from a shelf and swallowed them with a glass of water, barely stopping himself from throwing up when the liquid hit his stomach. He hoped the nausea would ease up with the two hours of sitting still in a make up chair; he didn’t know how he was supposed to move with fluidity and grace if he was feeling like this.
Skipping breakfast, he dressed quickly and pulled on a worn pair of runners, preparing to go to his car and drive himself to what after only one day he now referred to as his definition of hell. Just as he was reaching out to grasp the door handle, it turned and swung inwards. Orlando blinked and found himself face to face with Viggo.
“Hi,” said the older man.
“Hi,” Orlando replied. “Uh… what are you doing here?”
“Well, considering I live just around the corner, I figured it would be stupid for us to use two cars. I came to pick you up.”
“Oh,” said Orlando, feeling slightly embarrassed and slightly grateful. “You didn’t need to do that.”
“Yeah, well, I wanted to,” said Viggo. “You ready?” At Orlando’s slight hesitation, he added, “At the end of the night you can drive me home, once we’re all wet, tired and cranky. That’ll be fair.”
Orlando smiled slightly. “Okay, I’m coming.”
Viggo’s running commentary for the drive was extremely boring, Orlando thought, and he felt himself begin to focus on other areas. The sun was not quite setting yet, but it was low in the sky, and the landscape was bathed in a beautiful yellow glow. The trees set at regular intervals complimented the light, and Orlando thought of how beautifully New Zealand fit together as a whole.
He felt his gaze become drawn back to the man sitting next to him. He had lost track of the conversation a while ago, but he could not help taking notice of the way Viggo’s arms were moving to emphasize his speech, the way the man’s face moved… every detail was suddenly making itself known to Orli. And the eyes… the warmth and love they held for all things on this earth… they made Orlando feel small and insignificant in comparison to this great man in front of him.
Orlando blinked suddenly, and the fantasy was gone. What was he thinking? He had never thought of any of his costars that way, let alone his best friend. And what worth would Vig see in him, anyway? He was just a stupid kid who held up the movies with his lack of talent and habit for getting sick…
Orli switched his gaze abruptly to the window and watched the scenery pass by, trying to pretend it did not hurt that Viggo’s voice trailed off awkwardly into the background.
***********
Orlando had been right; the long wait as he was transformed into Legolas did his stomach good. He even managed to scrounge a plain piece of toast from the catering tent before filming commenced, and kept it down with no trouble.
Today’s scenes were not as demanding on him as yesterday’s had been and he found himself coping fairly well. He squeezed a good long nap in while Viggo and John were filming the scene in front of the gates, and felt good enough to have a small lunch when that scene was shot. The worst thing about tonight, thank God, was the perpetual rain.
Orlando sat next to Viggo for the lunch break. Half of him was proud of his bravery in confronting his emotions, the other half kept telling him to bolt. Stupid thoughts, he said to himself, it’s just Viggo! Not like you don’t eat lunch with him every day.
“How you doing, elf boy?” Viggo asked playfully, ruffling Orlando’s blonde wig slightly.
“Ugh, don’t, Vig,” Orli muttered. “Make up will kill me…”
“How’s ruffling your hair different to you sleeping on top of a pile of coats for a couple of hours, prissy elf?”
Orlando glared at him and punched him playfully. “Shut up.”
Viggo faked a hurt look. “Oh, God, Vig,” Orli muttered, his face falling. “I’m so sorry, I’m being selfish –“
“Woah, Orli, what are you talking about?” Viggo asked. “I was just kidding.”
Orlando’s big brown eyes blinked, and he looked down. “Sorry.”
After that misunderstanding, the conversation was decidedly more awkward, and both were secretly glad when the call came to get back on set.
***********
Author: Snow Days
Rating: PG 13 for language and general emotional trauma.
Pairing: OB/VM
Summary: When Orlando is diagnosed with an incurable, but treatable, disease, he loses all hope and love of life. Can Viggo help him see the path he strayed from? OB/VM
Feedback: Of course.
Disclaimer: Never happened. Not pretending it did. Don’t know anyone featured in this story, complete fiction, just for fun, etc. Also, I don’t have this disease, and any symptoms are researched, not experienced. I’m sorry if I hurt anybody with this material.
************
Orlando woke to the sound of his alarm clock beeping. He groaned and reached across to switch it off, wincing as a spark of pain flared across his spine from this movement. Fuck. He’d slept all night – or day – in the same position.
He got up slowly and hobbled toward the shower. Sighing in relief as hot water cascaded over his back, he leant back against the wall of the shower and tried to think of something other than the sharp pain in his back and his drooping eyelids.
He thought of the pain in his stomach.
It was still there, the horrid, nauseous feeling; not quite as bad as last night had been, but bad enough that he felt repulsed at even the thought of food. There was also the occasional pain that, while not immediately crippling, was certainly enough to get him extremely annoyed.
He turned off the water and moved into the kitchen, the pain in his back having let up slightly with the heat of the water. He took his pills from a shelf and swallowed them with a glass of water, barely stopping himself from throwing up when the liquid hit his stomach. He hoped the nausea would ease up with the two hours of sitting still in a make up chair; he didn’t know how he was supposed to move with fluidity and grace if he was feeling like this.
Skipping breakfast, he dressed quickly and pulled on a worn pair of runners, preparing to go to his car and drive himself to what after only one day he now referred to as his definition of hell. Just as he was reaching out to grasp the door handle, it turned and swung inwards. Orlando blinked and found himself face to face with Viggo.
“Hi,” said the older man.
“Hi,” Orlando replied. “Uh… what are you doing here?”
“Well, considering I live just around the corner, I figured it would be stupid for us to use two cars. I came to pick you up.”
“Oh,” said Orlando, feeling slightly embarrassed and slightly grateful. “You didn’t need to do that.”
“Yeah, well, I wanted to,” said Viggo. “You ready?” At Orlando’s slight hesitation, he added, “At the end of the night you can drive me home, once we’re all wet, tired and cranky. That’ll be fair.”
Orlando smiled slightly. “Okay, I’m coming.”
Viggo’s running commentary for the drive was extremely boring, Orlando thought, and he felt himself begin to focus on other areas. The sun was not quite setting yet, but it was low in the sky, and the landscape was bathed in a beautiful yellow glow. The trees set at regular intervals complimented the light, and Orlando thought of how beautifully New Zealand fit together as a whole.
He felt his gaze become drawn back to the man sitting next to him. He had lost track of the conversation a while ago, but he could not help taking notice of the way Viggo’s arms were moving to emphasize his speech, the way the man’s face moved… every detail was suddenly making itself known to Orli. And the eyes… the warmth and love they held for all things on this earth… they made Orlando feel small and insignificant in comparison to this great man in front of him.
Orlando blinked suddenly, and the fantasy was gone. What was he thinking? He had never thought of any of his costars that way, let alone his best friend. And what worth would Vig see in him, anyway? He was just a stupid kid who held up the movies with his lack of talent and habit for getting sick…
Orli switched his gaze abruptly to the window and watched the scenery pass by, trying to pretend it did not hurt that Viggo’s voice trailed off awkwardly into the background.
***********
Orlando had been right; the long wait as he was transformed into Legolas did his stomach good. He even managed to scrounge a plain piece of toast from the catering tent before filming commenced, and kept it down with no trouble.
Today’s scenes were not as demanding on him as yesterday’s had been and he found himself coping fairly well. He squeezed a good long nap in while Viggo and John were filming the scene in front of the gates, and felt good enough to have a small lunch when that scene was shot. The worst thing about tonight, thank God, was the perpetual rain.
Orlando sat next to Viggo for the lunch break. Half of him was proud of his bravery in confronting his emotions, the other half kept telling him to bolt. Stupid thoughts, he said to himself, it’s just Viggo! Not like you don’t eat lunch with him every day.
“How you doing, elf boy?” Viggo asked playfully, ruffling Orlando’s blonde wig slightly.
“Ugh, don’t, Vig,” Orli muttered. “Make up will kill me…”
“How’s ruffling your hair different to you sleeping on top of a pile of coats for a couple of hours, prissy elf?”
Orlando glared at him and punched him playfully. “Shut up.”
Viggo faked a hurt look. “Oh, God, Vig,” Orli muttered, his face falling. “I’m so sorry, I’m being selfish –“
“Woah, Orli, what are you talking about?” Viggo asked. “I was just kidding.”
Orlando’s big brown eyes blinked, and he looked down. “Sorry.”
After that misunderstanding, the conversation was decidedly more awkward, and both were secretly glad when the call came to get back on set.
***********
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