Slippery Slope 8/?
Aug. 18th, 2005 08:04 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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vigorliTitle: Slippery Slope
Chapter: 8/?
Author: Rocketbalm
Pairing: OB/VM
Rating: R for language
Summary: A day of ups and downs, tentative beginnings and uncertain endings.
Content/warnings: AU
Spoilers: None.
Disclaimer: Blatantly not true, fiction
fic•tion (fik shen)
An imaginative creation or a pretense that does not represent actuality but has been invented. A lie. A literary work whose content is produced by the imagination and is not necessarily based on fact.
Author’s Note: Two of the minor characters I introduce in this chapter are inspired by real people that I have met. One was a member and has coached the Disabled Ski Team and can out ski practically anyone I know, a truly fearless and giving individual. The other has participated in a mountain bike race that I’m part of. Every year he rides the 67 km of hell that is the Test of Metal with one leg and no prosthesis, even stopping to help other riders on the way. Both are truly amazing people as well as talented athletes.
Chapter 8
Viggo lay in bed watching the minutes change on his clock, wondering if Orlando had suffered the same trouble sleeping that he had. His emotions were in turmoil; a contradiction, creating a pendulum effect swinging from joy and elation to regret and guilt. The memory of their kiss was a gentle whisper that caressed his soul, quietly fanning the fires of his desire for the young man. He closed his eyes and could feel the touch of Orlando’s hand on his face, in his hair, drawing him close; he could taste the soft lips and passionate tongue that wetted his appetite for something more; and he could hear the sound of his own heart breaking when he heard the hurt in Orlando’s voice when he sent him away. In that one moment Viggo discovered that while his feelings had a little to do with not being with anyone in such a long time, they had everything to do with being with Orlando – not just sexually, but emotionally. It was more about sharing himself, his life with someone -- no not just someone, with Orlando – than it was about sex; although that certainly had its appeal too.
Viggo’s mind raced. He didn’t know if Orlando would even want to be involved with someone, let alone with him, for anything more than a quick fling; or how he would possibly fit into Orlando’s world of Hollywood glamour and secrecy. All of it was moot considering the issues Orlando had ahead of him. Viggo sighed and watched the numbers on the clock slowly creep toward morning, knowing he couldn’t place his dreams for a future on such a rocky foundation. He hoped that somehow there would be a time when they could explore something deeper, build something meaningful, give to each other fully. Glancing once more to the clock, he shivered and threw the covers back, suddenly feeling the bed was too large and too empty. They day stretched out before him and for the first time in a long time he felt at a loss.
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Orlando lay in bed and listened to the sound of Viggo puttering downstairs. It was amazing that he could hear anything outside of his own head: the quiet calm of Viggo telling him to go to bed and the louder, berating sound of *his* voice calling him a slut and laughing at him being rejected, both accompanied by the moderate throbbing in his head. Orlando’s emotions were at war with themselves, making it difficult for him to sort one from the other, though he knew he had to before he faced Viggo.
Last night in a moment of clarity, he understood why Viggo had pulled away. They both needed to sort out their own issues, become comfortable with themselves again before taking on someone else. In that moment, he ‘got it’, he understood and could accept it, he could even find hope in the future. Every moment since then it was increasingly difficult to hang on to that. The sound of *his* voice was wearing Orlando down creating doubt in his mind and gnawing on his fragile self-esteem. At first Orlando tried to just ignore it, then he got angry and told the voice to ‘shut the fuck up’ but soon there it was back again, demeaning and belittling him, persistent in its destructiveness.
He could hear Viggo banging around in the kitchen, the clang of mugs on the counter, the whistle of the tea kettle – it was the sound of companionship, of being at home. Orlando took a deep breath and drew strength from the comforting sounds around him. He would be strong; he would choose to believe there was hope.
He smiled to himself hearing the pad of footsteps on the hardwood of the steps. Viggo was coming to him just like he had almost every morning he’d been here; they would be okay. There was a quiet tap on the dividing wall and a tentative ‘Orlando?’ whispered as Viggo peered around the corner.
“Hey.” Orlando’s mouth curved gently into a timid smile as Viggo came and set a mug of tea on his bedside table and stood awkwardly with one hand in his pocket the other gripped his own tea solidly.
“Hey yourself. How’re you feeling?” Viggo spoke softly without looking directly at Orlando.
“Thanks.” He said propping himself up on one elbow and reaching for the tea. “Head hurts a bit, but I’ve felt worse after a night out with the Hobbits.” He grimaced not knowing where he should take the conversation. “Are you going to sit with me for a minute while I have my tea?” Not wanting Viggo to go just yet, needing to know that they were going to be okay.
Viggo shifted from one bare foot to the other, caught in a sea of indecision; wanting to stay but sitting next to a half naked Orlando, on a bed, would do more than a little to test his resolve. Orlando scooted farther up on the bed making room for him and seeing Viggo’s uncertainty, he patted the bed and offered an endearing ‘Please’ accompanied by a shy smile. With Orlando’s head tilted, one eyebrow quirked and curls in a lopsided halo around his head, he was impossible to resist. Viggo lowered himself with great care to the bed.
Both men sat quietly for a minute sipping their tea, not really knowing what to say to one another but grateful to be able to sit together regardless of any awkwardness. Finally Viggo took a deep breath, “Last night…” His voice trailed of into nothingness, uncertain where to go after that.
Orlando raised his hand and stopped him from saying anything more if Viggo had even known what to say. “Viggo, no… I’m fine… we’re fine, yeah?” He questioned softly. Viggo stared at him a long time, both men knowing that there was so much left unsaid between them, and scared to open that door. “Yeah we’re fine.” He said finally. After another minute of stillness between them, Viggo got up and smiled. “We better get ready before the Hobbits invade.” As Viggo was about to leave the loft he heard Orli softly call to him. “Vig… I don’t regret it you know… that moment… that moment will always be special to me… Always.” He finished his voice barely audible. Viggo froze with his hand on the wall and without turning around he whispered, “It was special to me too Orli… Always.” Orlando heart danced in his chest in time to the throbbing in his head. He leaned back against the headboard and sipped his tea as he listened to the pad of Viggo’s feet down the stairs, feeling content that they had at least something to build on.
Breakfast was a quiet affair, each of them lost in their own thoughts, no longer uncomfortable being together. Viggo fidgeted, emptying the vase of now wilted flowers, clearing dishes and gathering miscellaneous items for the laundry, asking Orlando if he needed anything washed to bring them downstairs for Astrid, the cleaning lady. Orlando moved slowly, finding that Tylenol coupled with his pills were slowly helping his headache. As they got ready, they found that their movements were remarkably familiar, working together in a domestic dance that was as fluid as it was silent.
When the Hobbits pulled up the drive, Orlando was pulling on the jacket he borrowed from Viggo and stashing his pills in his breast pocket. As he zipped up the pocket he caught Viggo’s eye and his hand stilled. Viggo leaned against the wall and watched the indecision cross the younger mans face. “How about leaving those here today... or just taking what you need with you...” Knowing that part of addiction was the fear of being without, it would be a step – a small step – but a step none the less. “No matter where we are on the mountain today you’ll only be 15 minutes away.” He added and gave Orlando an encouraging smile hoping the trust they had built would be enough to get around any resentment Orlando might feel.
Orlando fought the wave of anger that threatened to crash over him, he closed his eyes and shut out *his* words. He focused on the *kiss*; the way Viggo felt beneath his touch, the way Viggo’s passion equaled his own and he gathered the strength he needed. As the Hobbits banged on the door, Orlando unzipped the pocket and took the pills out and looked at the bottle and then back at Viggo. “Okay old man, as long as you’ll come down and get them for me if I’m flat on my back and can’t move.” He grinned and placed them very carefully on the dining room table. Viggo grinned back and agreed. “Okay now that that’s settled, we better get going.”
They opened the door to two slightly hung-over Hobbits, bleary eyed but anxious to get going. “You go ahead; I forgot to write a check for Astrid. I’ll be right there.” Viggo turned back into the house as the boys strapped on their boards. By the time Viggo got outside Elijah was lying in a snow bank after just having his faced washed with snow. Sputtering and flailing he gathered enough strength to hurl a snowball at Orli which started a full-fledged war that left them all laughing and grinning like ten year olds. It was going to be a great day.
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The morning was crisp and clear, with a few wisps of clouds barely distinguishable against the pale blue of the winter sky. Everyone was in great spirits as they made their way up the mountain for a few warm up runs before meeting at the race centre. Dom and Elijah kept them amused on the chairlift with horrible renditions of ’80 music taking requests from anyone within earshot. Viggo smiled his arm across the back of the lift as he kept time by gently tapping Orlando on the shoulder. Orli snuggled closer and the two men smiled as if they shared a wonderful secret. In this moment Orlando seemed free from worry, free to love and be loved, free from the pain that haunted him. Viggo imprinted the moment in his memory; he wished he could give this to Orlando always.
From the quad chair they could see the race centre off in the distance and their banter quickly turned to boasting and posturing, each more fantastic than the last. It wasn’t long before bets were placed on who would be the fastest, who would fall the most, and who would most likely be impaled by a slalom gate. In the end it was agreed that losers would cook the winner dinner, though Dom kept insisting sexual favours would be much more interesting -- to which Elijah growled that he didn’t share well with others, causing Dom to grin wildly and snog him senseless.
The race centre was a hub of activity, participants mingled with members of the disabled ski team and young up and comers who were still learning how to cope with their disability. The three younger men were quickly humbled by the sheer determination and enthusiasm these kids had. The disabilities were vast and varied from paraplegics and quadriplegics using prosthetics or sit chairs to blind skiers who skied behind guides. The three men were quickly embraced by the younger skiers all vying to get an elf or hobbit on their team. Viggo was in awe as Orlando lost himself to the kids, giving himself over to them completely; making them laugh and letting them climb on him for pictures, listening to each one as if what they were saying was the most important thing in the world, and Viggo loved him for it.
In the end Dom and Elijah were paired up with a blind skier named Val who told them she could beat them with her eyes closed and Viggo and Orli teamed with the grizzled vet of the ski team, a single amputee named Bill Tew, who was also a friend of Viggo’s. After many false starts and much laughter, the timed warm-up runs were underway. Elijah managed to hit two gates but remain upright, Dom had a yard sale half way down while much to everyone’s amusement Val patiently waited for them at the bottom, cheering wildly. When their turn came around Viggo and Orlando were left in Bill’s dust as he flew, one-legged down the course ahead of them, aided only with poles that had tiny skis instead of points. Competing head to head with each other, the older man barely outpaced the younger as they crossed the line, in dual rooster-tails of snow; cheeks flushed with adrenalin and their breaths a steady cloud of vapor.
“Fuck old man, I almost had you that time.” Orlando grinned, his eyes sparkled with mischief and his body practically hummed, barely able to contain his energy. His enthusiasm was contagious, Viggo had never felt so alive, never known such energy, never wanted anyone so much. “It’s not how fast you can go Orli, it’s how consistent you are that will get you the win. Besides, finishing fast isn’t necessarily always a good thing.” Viggo couldn’t believe he was actually flirting with the younger man. In fact he couldn’t remember the last time he had flirted with anyone. Orli’s grin grew impossibly wider. “Well that’s where being young has its advantages. You can finish fast the first time and still have enough energy to go again.” With a wink he started down the hill calling to Viggo over his shoulder, “Ready for round two old man?” Viggo could hardly refuse.
The morning was full of laughter and good natured competition, with the winner to be announced after the BBQ lunch. After working up an appetite they headed mid-mountain to the Glacier Creek Lodge where a large outdoor area had been cordoned off for the event, the group separated with Dom and Elijah sitting where they could enjoy the band with Val and her guide, while Bill joined Viggo and Orlando off in a corner where the din of the music was muffled enough to make conversations comfortable.
At first being with all these amazing people that had over come such adversity was inspiring to Orlando. He’d never really been around people with disabilities and other than his cousin’s autistic child, everyone one in his life was physically whole. He was in awe of how matter of fact they were about their injuries and how much joy they had in their life. And that’s when it started. Softly, almost a mere whisper, *his words cut through is consciousness. // you think we should pity you. *you* climbed that fucking drainpipe and fell... just another example of how truly stupid you are… now we should feel sorry for poor little Orli cause his back is sore... fucking selfish shit, that’s what you are… people have real problems Orli, yours barely even count…// A continuous monologue of destructiveness until Orlando sat so still and quiet Viggo was alarmed. “Orli, are you all right? Is it your back?” He asked concerned.
Orlando glared at him for bring up his back, not amongst this crowd, not in front of Bill. “You got a problem with your back Orlando?’ Bill asked curiously. “No, no, it’s fine, nothing really.” Orlando stammered in reply hoping the ground would swallow him whole.
“If you call breaking it and almost never walking again ‘nothing’.” Viggo was at a loss as to what was bothering the young man. “But I can walk.” Orlando glanced around and answered so softly only the three of them could hear.
“Orlando man, I just met you but I can assure you none of us would begrudge the fact that you had a successful recovery. Your back is nothing to fuck with. How long were you in the hospital?” Bill ate his lunch slowly eyes intently on Orlando.
“Uh not long, a month or so. Hated every second. I’m sure I willed myself to walk just to get out of there.” Orlando pushed his food around not wanting to look up at Bill who was just so blasé about it all.
“Yeah I know what you mean. I don’t know what was worse; waking someone up to help me take a piss or not knowing that I needed to piss because I was pumped so full of drugs. So what they give you?” He asked with curiosity.
Orlando replied with several medications that he had received over time. “Shit that’s strong stuff, you still taking it or are you able to get by with out?” Orlando forced himself not to look at Viggo before answering. “Um, I still take them now and then. Uh, some days are worse than others.” Knowing he was lying and knowing Viggo knew he was lying made him feel like shit. If Bill noticed any change in Orlando he didn’t let on, and continued casually. “So how’d you do it? Stunt gone wrong in a film or what?”
Orlando looked pained not wanting to reveal his stupidity. “I uh… I climbed up a drainpipe on a lark and fell three stories. Really stupid, yeah.”
Bill grinned “Not as stupid as jumping slow rolling freight cars with your buddies and falling underneath one.” Orlando’s eyes grew wide. “Really, that’s what happened? That’s horrible. How old were you?” Forgetting that he really didn’t want to have this conversation, Orlando jumped in with both feet. “I was nineteen and stupid. Trying to impress some girls, I ended up almost not having anything to impress them with. Found myself in the hospital for two months and came out with a really shitty attitude. I strung myself out on painkillers they insisted I needed -- and who was I to say no -- mixed with any alcohol I could get my hands on.” He grinned at Orlando before continuing, while Viggo watched the whole conversation, and especially Orlando with interest. “I threw myself a rather large pity party and made sure that everyone who was invited catered to my every whim, using any means necessary to stop taking responsibility for myself. It wasn’t until I was sent back to rehab because I wasn’t taking care of my wound properly and my prosthesis had cut into the swollen tissue so much it had cause more damage, that I got straightened out.” Orli gulped, he could feel a flush spreading up his neck, trying desperately to avoid looking at any similarities between their situations.
“Wanna know what changed for me?” Bill asked almost rhetorically. Orli nodded scared to hear the answer yet not able to break away from the conversation either. “There was this twelve year old kid in rehab, lost his leg in a boating accident. He looked at me in utter disgust and contempt when I fought the physiotherapists at every turn. When I’d whine and refuse to do things for myself because I was ‘crippled’ he’d roll his eyes. He laughed at me when I said the meds weren’t working anymore and I needed something stronger. Then one day I just freaked on him telling him I was going to kick his ass and instead of crying and being frightened of me he laughed and asked if I needed my meds first and could he help by getting me my crutches before he submitted to my one-legged ass-kicking. Basically he told me to get my head out of my ass and I kept telling him he was too young to understand; that my life was ruined, my career as a ski racer was ruined, and there was nothing he or anyone could do to fix that. He just looked at me and said that he was going to be a BMX star and nothing, not even one leg was going to stop him. And that was it. That little kid inspired me to change my whole life. I stopped taking my meds that day cold turkey; I don’t even as much as take aspirin anymore; sometimes pain is a good reminder of how much you have to live for, you know? I got back into skiing and I haven’t looked back.” Viggo saw Orlando retreat inside himself again, and he could only imagine the turmoil he was feeling. Wanting Orlando to hear the rest, Viggo asked Bill to tell them what happened to the kid.
“The kid, well Brad didn’t become the BMX champ he wanted to be. Things were changing in the cycling world and mountain biking became the next big thing. He competed and won many medals for Canada at the Paralympic games in mountain biking. He’s 36 now and still pretty fucking amazing. Godfather to my son. I may have changed my life, but he inspired me to do it… still does.”
*His* voice got stronger in Orli’s head as he battled to drown it out. Suddenly Orlando felt as if he’d been set up, as if Viggo had planned this to make a point. He could feel the anger build, encouraged by the *his* voice. //your buddy set you up… thinks you’re a fuck up… thinks you’ll be fucking inspired by this shit… but we both know you can’t do it Orli… you’re weak and pathetic…// In the background the band was wrapping up, people were being thanked and the winners were being announced, none of it reached Orlando. It was if time stood still. He glanced at Viggo seeing the overwhelming look of concern was unbearable. He pushed himself away from the table and tugged on his hat. “I’ve got go. I’m, um, not feeling very well.” He reached to shake Bill’s hand and put on his most gracious smile, thanking him for skiing with them and sharing his story, before he bolted from the table stumbling and sliding in his haste. Viggo rose to follow when Bill grabbed his arm. “Let him go Vig. The kid needs some space. Being around all of us probably gave him a bit of survivor guilt. I’d probably hazard a guess to say that he’s still battling with meds by the way he reacted. Gut feeling really. Most people don’t flee from my story unless they’ve got some unfinished business of their own, that much I do know.” He gave Viggo’s arm a squeeze urging him to sit. Viggo watched as the young man chatted briefly with some fans before getting his board and leaving.
It wasn’t long before Dom and Elijah noticed Orlando was missing and came over. “So where is the little punter who beat us?” Asked Dom wryly, knowing he’d be cooking dinner that night. Viggo nodded in the general direction that Orli took and answered, “He wasn’t feeling well, so he headed back.” The two hobbits exchanged concerned looks. “By himself, he went by himself?” Asked Elijah. “He never goes by himself if someone else is around. Is he all right?”
“I’m sure he’s fine Elijah, he just wanted to be on his own for a while, said he wasn’t feeling well. Everything’s wrapping up now so we can go catch up with him if it’ll make you feel better.” The two men nodded and went to say their good-byes and get their boards. Watching Viggo stare into nothingness Bill considered what to say very carefully. “Word of advice, Vig, not that you need any. It’s a fine balance supporting someone that’s troubled. Be firm but gentle; let him know you care but don’t do it for him. That’s all I can give you.” Viggo stared at his friend, his own thoughts echoed Bill’s advice. “Thanks Bill, I’ll do that.”
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Viggo got back first and was shaking the snow off his skis when the hobbits slid in. The three of them left their jackets and snowy boots in the mudroom quietly, not wanting to disturb Orlando if he was sleeping. Viggo stepped through the kitchen door first and stopped abruptly, only to have the two younger man bounce off his back with grunts and groans. Peering around Viggo who was still frozen in the doorway, they stared in disbelief. Every drawer was pulled open every cabinet door ajar; on the floor laid fresh flowers in a mosaic with shards of broken glass and water; and at the table, forehead laid upon his folded arms, sat Orlando trembling. “Orli…” Elijah and Dom both tried to get around Viggo and to their friend. Viggo motioned them to be quiet and stay put. Taking a step into the shambles of his beautiful kitchen he took a deep breath to calm himself before speaking. “Orlando, what happened here?” He asked gently but with a firmness that said don’t fuck with me.
“Orlando raised his head, cold fury snapping in his eyes. “You fucking bastard. You fucking set me up, you betrayed by trust not once but twice.” The venom in his voice was palpable. “I want my fucking pills Viggo, I want them right now.”
Viggo looked confused. “Your pills? I don’t have your pills Orlando, why would I have them?”
“Don’t give me that shit Viggo. You told me to leave them here. ‘You’re only 15 minutes away Orli.’ You said. And like a fucking idiot I trusted you. You came back in, you came back and took them didn’t you… Then you had your *friend* talk to me… tell me his fucking story about how the drugs nearly ruined his life. I’m not like *Bill*, Viggo. I don’t need fixing. I’m fine the way I am, so just give me my fucking pills.” Orlando was yelling at this point, spittle fly from his lips as he worked himself into a rage. Viggo stared him down calmly, drawing on everything he learned about himself over the last few years. “Orlando, I don’t have your pills, I never took them.” Viggo looked around at the shattered vase on the floor. “Before you saw fit to trash my home did you have a look around you? Do you remember us having fresh flowers when we left this morning? Astrid brings those when she comes each time. I did tell you she was coming. Ever think that maybe Astrid put your pills away when she cleaned the house today?”
Orlando looked at the flowers on the floor, remembering how Viggo hummed to himself in the kitchen that morning throwing out the old flowers and rinsing the vase. He suddenly started feeling really sick, sicker than he imagined he felt up the mountain, sicker than he thought possible. Worried at what Viggo would do he tensed up waiting for what ever was to come.
Viggo folded his arms across his chest and continued with an eerie calm. “I suggest you try the upstairs medicine cabinet. Astrid knows I don’t like medication lying around, I’m sure that’s where she put them. And if they’re not there, her number is next to the fridge, you can call her and ask where she might have put them.” He paused giving himself a moment to gather his thoughts again. “Dom, Lijah and I are going to get what we need for dinner, and when we get back I expect that my kitchen will resemble something less like a disaster zone.” Turning on his heels he strong armed the hobbits out the door, gesturing for them to be quiet and get their stuff on. Viggo was about to close the door behind him when he realized that something that Orlando had said earlier still needed to be addressed. Turning back Viggo looked Orlando in the eye and consciously moderated his tone. “Orli, Bill was never a set up; you’ll just have to trust me on that.” Viggo clarified before closing the door softly behind him.
Once in the Rover the Elijah was in tears. “Viggo we can’t leave him like that. What if he does… something? He needs us. He needs to know we love him. You don’t understand everything he’s been through.” With more calm than he felt, Viggo started the vehicle and made his way down the driveway.
“I do understand Elijah. I understand more than you know. Orli doesn’t need you coddling him and cleaning up his messes. He needs to feel like you believe in him enough to fix his own mistakes. Every time you two come to his rescue, you’re allowing him to stay the way he is -- unhappy, unfulfilled and sometimes out of control. Orlando has to start doing for himself and if he fucks up he needs to know you’ll support him not come in like a salvage crew and take away his ability to learn from his mistakes by taking responsibility for them.” Viggo hands were shaking on the steering wheel. Praying he was doing the right thing; praying that Orli would find the strength he needed, and scared to think of what would happen if he didn’t.
“But…” began Elijah before Dom stopped him. “No, Lij, I think Viggo’s right. I think we need to let Orli do this. We’ll be right back. We’ll show him how much we love him then, okay.” Turning from the front seat to soothe his lover, he could see that Elijah was not convinced but willing to trust him none the less. The rest of the trip was quiet, allowing Viggo the opportunity to wonder if he had just screwed up spectacularly.
Arriving back at the house, Viggo entered from the mudroom with caution, not knowing what to expect. At first glance Orlando was no where to be seen. The kitchen was immaculate; the broken vase was cleaned up and the few remaining flowers, not too battered from the experience were placed in a decanter. Putting the groceries down on the counter he surveyed the area for Orlando as the hobbits crept in warily. Worried that the young man had left, or worse, they called out for him with no answer. Viggo couldn’t contain himself any longer. He took the stairs two at a time, stumbling into the empty loft. He paused noting that all of, or at least what looked like all of Orlando’s things were still there, including his pills which stood next to the clock on the bedside table. Pausing at the top of the stairs he caught a glimpse of his studio door ajar and he allowed himself the barest hint of a smile. Quietly he strode to the end of the hallway and stood in the doorway. Orlando was perched on a chair, earphones on, his full concentration on the clay in front of him. Viggo walked toward him, giving him a wide enough berth that he would see him in his peripheral vision and not be startled. Once Orlando looked up and started to remove his headphones, Viggo placed a hand on his back, just happy that Orlando didn’t pull away. Rubbing in small, soothing circles, he watched the young man beside him; somehow different from the trembling enraged man that he had encountered in the kitchen, different, calmer and somehow more remote.
“The kitchen looks good.” He offered quietly. Without looking up from the clay Orlando stiffen slightly. “I didn’t know where to put the glass so I left it out in a box with the recycling.” Viggo could feel how far Orlando had retreated from him, his voice was monotone and resigned without any of the beautiful lilt that had made Viggo heart beat faster. Suddenly Viggo wanted to steer the conversation to something safer. “We’re going to start dinner; you won the bet and beat us all, so the boys and I are cooking. Veggie lasagna and garlic bread is on the menu. I hope you’ll join us.” He gave Orlando’s shoulder a squeeze hoping for an answer, though not expecting one.
“I’m not really hungry.” Orlando mumbled continuing to work the clay without looking up. Dom and Elijah arrived in the doorway looking relieved and just in time to hear Orlando say. “I really just want some time on my own, Vig. I’ll be down in a while, yeah.” Viggo resisted the urge to brush an errant chestnut curl from his brow and place a chaste kiss on his temple. Instead he stayed very still, feeling the weight of everything still not said between them; they needed to talk, if not today, then tomorrow or the next day.
Viggo felt something shift inside him, as if the wall he’d built was cracking and crumbling, leaving him open and vulnerable. He wanted to tell Orlando everything. He wanted to tell him about James and about Sean and all the horror and anguish that he’d been through. He wanted to show Orlando that it was possible to work through torment and suffering and emerge, scarred but not irreparably damaged. Perhaps in sharing his story, Viggo would be able to complete his own healing. Yes they definitely need to talk.
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Orlando stood outside the door to Viggo’s bedroom, listening for any hint of sound, his hand on the door knob trembled as he turned it. He’d never been in Viggo’s room, and now standing there in the doorway seeing it for the first time, bathed in the light reflected off the snow outside, creating varying shades of grey and cradling Viggo in it’s softness, was breathtaking.
Silently he stepped inside and curled himself in a worn, wing-back chair, studying the man who had given him so much, knowing he would never have this opportunity again. The tears that had been on verge of falling suddenly spilled down his cheeks. He muffled a sob as he buried his mouth in his arms on his drawn up knees, never taking his eyes off the man who look so serene and unaware he was being watched.
Orlando had first suspected when Viggo had discovered him in the kitchen earlier that evening but he hadn’t known until Viggo found him in the studio later. It was more than a look or a touch, it was more than his words spoken with such care and kindness, it was everything left unsaid, everything that was reflected in every moment that they shared – it was love. Orlando’s heart ached with the knowledge that his love was tainted and doomed to fail. He couldn’t endure the thought of ever hurting this man and knew in the end he would. He couldn’t be everything Viggo needed or deserved; he couldn’t be sure that he would be able to be the man that Viggo believed he was and knowing that, Orlando knew that whatever they shared had to end before it began. He had come in the dead of night to grieve the love they would never see come to fruition.
The minutes melted into each other as if time stood still. Orlando tried to absorb the essence of the older man and keep it like one of his charms he wore, never wanting to go anywhere without it. His thoughts caressed the sleeping form in the shadowy pre-dawn hours and as if their two souls were connected Viggo opened his eyes already knowing that Orlando was there. “Orli?” Viggo’s whisper cut through the stillness of the night.
Orlando froze hoping to blend into the chair, unseen in the darkness. Without the need for words, Viggo shifted in the bed and drew back the covers inviting the broken younger man in. The moment stretched and became taught with indecision, both men unsure of anything yet positive of one – the depth of feeling that touched their hearts. Frightened that any break in the silence would release the torrent of words and feelings he was holding back, Orlando crawled into the bed without a sound. He felt Viggo gently spoon in behind him, enfolding him into a loose embrace. Viggo’s warm breath slid across his skin and played lightly in his curls. Overwhelmed by the sensations of intimacy, heart wrenching sobs tore through Orlando, causing Viggo to entwine his fingers through Orlando’s and urge him closer. Orlando’s body shuddered with emotion as he let go, until finally his breathing slowed, his body relaxed and only his tears continued to fall silently. Viggo kissed his shoulder chastely and Orlando’s heart grew heavy knowing that Viggo felt that this was a beginning, while he was certain now, without a doubt, that it would have to end.
TBC
Chapter: 8/?
Author: Rocketbalm
Pairing: OB/VM
Rating: R for language
Summary: A day of ups and downs, tentative beginnings and uncertain endings.
Content/warnings: AU
Spoilers: None.
Disclaimer: Blatantly not true, fiction
fic•tion (fik shen)
An imaginative creation or a pretense that does not represent actuality but has been invented. A lie. A literary work whose content is produced by the imagination and is not necessarily based on fact.
Author’s Note: Two of the minor characters I introduce in this chapter are inspired by real people that I have met. One was a member and has coached the Disabled Ski Team and can out ski practically anyone I know, a truly fearless and giving individual. The other has participated in a mountain bike race that I’m part of. Every year he rides the 67 km of hell that is the Test of Metal with one leg and no prosthesis, even stopping to help other riders on the way. Both are truly amazing people as well as talented athletes.
Chapter 8
Viggo lay in bed watching the minutes change on his clock, wondering if Orlando had suffered the same trouble sleeping that he had. His emotions were in turmoil; a contradiction, creating a pendulum effect swinging from joy and elation to regret and guilt. The memory of their kiss was a gentle whisper that caressed his soul, quietly fanning the fires of his desire for the young man. He closed his eyes and could feel the touch of Orlando’s hand on his face, in his hair, drawing him close; he could taste the soft lips and passionate tongue that wetted his appetite for something more; and he could hear the sound of his own heart breaking when he heard the hurt in Orlando’s voice when he sent him away. In that one moment Viggo discovered that while his feelings had a little to do with not being with anyone in such a long time, they had everything to do with being with Orlando – not just sexually, but emotionally. It was more about sharing himself, his life with someone -- no not just someone, with Orlando – than it was about sex; although that certainly had its appeal too.
Viggo’s mind raced. He didn’t know if Orlando would even want to be involved with someone, let alone with him, for anything more than a quick fling; or how he would possibly fit into Orlando’s world of Hollywood glamour and secrecy. All of it was moot considering the issues Orlando had ahead of him. Viggo sighed and watched the numbers on the clock slowly creep toward morning, knowing he couldn’t place his dreams for a future on such a rocky foundation. He hoped that somehow there would be a time when they could explore something deeper, build something meaningful, give to each other fully. Glancing once more to the clock, he shivered and threw the covers back, suddenly feeling the bed was too large and too empty. They day stretched out before him and for the first time in a long time he felt at a loss.
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Orlando lay in bed and listened to the sound of Viggo puttering downstairs. It was amazing that he could hear anything outside of his own head: the quiet calm of Viggo telling him to go to bed and the louder, berating sound of *his* voice calling him a slut and laughing at him being rejected, both accompanied by the moderate throbbing in his head. Orlando’s emotions were at war with themselves, making it difficult for him to sort one from the other, though he knew he had to before he faced Viggo.
Last night in a moment of clarity, he understood why Viggo had pulled away. They both needed to sort out their own issues, become comfortable with themselves again before taking on someone else. In that moment, he ‘got it’, he understood and could accept it, he could even find hope in the future. Every moment since then it was increasingly difficult to hang on to that. The sound of *his* voice was wearing Orlando down creating doubt in his mind and gnawing on his fragile self-esteem. At first Orlando tried to just ignore it, then he got angry and told the voice to ‘shut the fuck up’ but soon there it was back again, demeaning and belittling him, persistent in its destructiveness.
He could hear Viggo banging around in the kitchen, the clang of mugs on the counter, the whistle of the tea kettle – it was the sound of companionship, of being at home. Orlando took a deep breath and drew strength from the comforting sounds around him. He would be strong; he would choose to believe there was hope.
He smiled to himself hearing the pad of footsteps on the hardwood of the steps. Viggo was coming to him just like he had almost every morning he’d been here; they would be okay. There was a quiet tap on the dividing wall and a tentative ‘Orlando?’ whispered as Viggo peered around the corner.
“Hey.” Orlando’s mouth curved gently into a timid smile as Viggo came and set a mug of tea on his bedside table and stood awkwardly with one hand in his pocket the other gripped his own tea solidly.
“Hey yourself. How’re you feeling?” Viggo spoke softly without looking directly at Orlando.
“Thanks.” He said propping himself up on one elbow and reaching for the tea. “Head hurts a bit, but I’ve felt worse after a night out with the Hobbits.” He grimaced not knowing where he should take the conversation. “Are you going to sit with me for a minute while I have my tea?” Not wanting Viggo to go just yet, needing to know that they were going to be okay.
Viggo shifted from one bare foot to the other, caught in a sea of indecision; wanting to stay but sitting next to a half naked Orlando, on a bed, would do more than a little to test his resolve. Orlando scooted farther up on the bed making room for him and seeing Viggo’s uncertainty, he patted the bed and offered an endearing ‘Please’ accompanied by a shy smile. With Orlando’s head tilted, one eyebrow quirked and curls in a lopsided halo around his head, he was impossible to resist. Viggo lowered himself with great care to the bed.
Both men sat quietly for a minute sipping their tea, not really knowing what to say to one another but grateful to be able to sit together regardless of any awkwardness. Finally Viggo took a deep breath, “Last night…” His voice trailed of into nothingness, uncertain where to go after that.
Orlando raised his hand and stopped him from saying anything more if Viggo had even known what to say. “Viggo, no… I’m fine… we’re fine, yeah?” He questioned softly. Viggo stared at him a long time, both men knowing that there was so much left unsaid between them, and scared to open that door. “Yeah we’re fine.” He said finally. After another minute of stillness between them, Viggo got up and smiled. “We better get ready before the Hobbits invade.” As Viggo was about to leave the loft he heard Orli softly call to him. “Vig… I don’t regret it you know… that moment… that moment will always be special to me… Always.” He finished his voice barely audible. Viggo froze with his hand on the wall and without turning around he whispered, “It was special to me too Orli… Always.” Orlando heart danced in his chest in time to the throbbing in his head. He leaned back against the headboard and sipped his tea as he listened to the pad of Viggo’s feet down the stairs, feeling content that they had at least something to build on.
Breakfast was a quiet affair, each of them lost in their own thoughts, no longer uncomfortable being together. Viggo fidgeted, emptying the vase of now wilted flowers, clearing dishes and gathering miscellaneous items for the laundry, asking Orlando if he needed anything washed to bring them downstairs for Astrid, the cleaning lady. Orlando moved slowly, finding that Tylenol coupled with his pills were slowly helping his headache. As they got ready, they found that their movements were remarkably familiar, working together in a domestic dance that was as fluid as it was silent.
When the Hobbits pulled up the drive, Orlando was pulling on the jacket he borrowed from Viggo and stashing his pills in his breast pocket. As he zipped up the pocket he caught Viggo’s eye and his hand stilled. Viggo leaned against the wall and watched the indecision cross the younger mans face. “How about leaving those here today... or just taking what you need with you...” Knowing that part of addiction was the fear of being without, it would be a step – a small step – but a step none the less. “No matter where we are on the mountain today you’ll only be 15 minutes away.” He added and gave Orlando an encouraging smile hoping the trust they had built would be enough to get around any resentment Orlando might feel.
Orlando fought the wave of anger that threatened to crash over him, he closed his eyes and shut out *his* words. He focused on the *kiss*; the way Viggo felt beneath his touch, the way Viggo’s passion equaled his own and he gathered the strength he needed. As the Hobbits banged on the door, Orlando unzipped the pocket and took the pills out and looked at the bottle and then back at Viggo. “Okay old man, as long as you’ll come down and get them for me if I’m flat on my back and can’t move.” He grinned and placed them very carefully on the dining room table. Viggo grinned back and agreed. “Okay now that that’s settled, we better get going.”
They opened the door to two slightly hung-over Hobbits, bleary eyed but anxious to get going. “You go ahead; I forgot to write a check for Astrid. I’ll be right there.” Viggo turned back into the house as the boys strapped on their boards. By the time Viggo got outside Elijah was lying in a snow bank after just having his faced washed with snow. Sputtering and flailing he gathered enough strength to hurl a snowball at Orli which started a full-fledged war that left them all laughing and grinning like ten year olds. It was going to be a great day.
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The morning was crisp and clear, with a few wisps of clouds barely distinguishable against the pale blue of the winter sky. Everyone was in great spirits as they made their way up the mountain for a few warm up runs before meeting at the race centre. Dom and Elijah kept them amused on the chairlift with horrible renditions of ’80 music taking requests from anyone within earshot. Viggo smiled his arm across the back of the lift as he kept time by gently tapping Orlando on the shoulder. Orli snuggled closer and the two men smiled as if they shared a wonderful secret. In this moment Orlando seemed free from worry, free to love and be loved, free from the pain that haunted him. Viggo imprinted the moment in his memory; he wished he could give this to Orlando always.
From the quad chair they could see the race centre off in the distance and their banter quickly turned to boasting and posturing, each more fantastic than the last. It wasn’t long before bets were placed on who would be the fastest, who would fall the most, and who would most likely be impaled by a slalom gate. In the end it was agreed that losers would cook the winner dinner, though Dom kept insisting sexual favours would be much more interesting -- to which Elijah growled that he didn’t share well with others, causing Dom to grin wildly and snog him senseless.
The race centre was a hub of activity, participants mingled with members of the disabled ski team and young up and comers who were still learning how to cope with their disability. The three younger men were quickly humbled by the sheer determination and enthusiasm these kids had. The disabilities were vast and varied from paraplegics and quadriplegics using prosthetics or sit chairs to blind skiers who skied behind guides. The three men were quickly embraced by the younger skiers all vying to get an elf or hobbit on their team. Viggo was in awe as Orlando lost himself to the kids, giving himself over to them completely; making them laugh and letting them climb on him for pictures, listening to each one as if what they were saying was the most important thing in the world, and Viggo loved him for it.
In the end Dom and Elijah were paired up with a blind skier named Val who told them she could beat them with her eyes closed and Viggo and Orli teamed with the grizzled vet of the ski team, a single amputee named Bill Tew, who was also a friend of Viggo’s. After many false starts and much laughter, the timed warm-up runs were underway. Elijah managed to hit two gates but remain upright, Dom had a yard sale half way down while much to everyone’s amusement Val patiently waited for them at the bottom, cheering wildly. When their turn came around Viggo and Orlando were left in Bill’s dust as he flew, one-legged down the course ahead of them, aided only with poles that had tiny skis instead of points. Competing head to head with each other, the older man barely outpaced the younger as they crossed the line, in dual rooster-tails of snow; cheeks flushed with adrenalin and their breaths a steady cloud of vapor.
“Fuck old man, I almost had you that time.” Orlando grinned, his eyes sparkled with mischief and his body practically hummed, barely able to contain his energy. His enthusiasm was contagious, Viggo had never felt so alive, never known such energy, never wanted anyone so much. “It’s not how fast you can go Orli, it’s how consistent you are that will get you the win. Besides, finishing fast isn’t necessarily always a good thing.” Viggo couldn’t believe he was actually flirting with the younger man. In fact he couldn’t remember the last time he had flirted with anyone. Orli’s grin grew impossibly wider. “Well that’s where being young has its advantages. You can finish fast the first time and still have enough energy to go again.” With a wink he started down the hill calling to Viggo over his shoulder, “Ready for round two old man?” Viggo could hardly refuse.
The morning was full of laughter and good natured competition, with the winner to be announced after the BBQ lunch. After working up an appetite they headed mid-mountain to the Glacier Creek Lodge where a large outdoor area had been cordoned off for the event, the group separated with Dom and Elijah sitting where they could enjoy the band with Val and her guide, while Bill joined Viggo and Orlando off in a corner where the din of the music was muffled enough to make conversations comfortable.
At first being with all these amazing people that had over come such adversity was inspiring to Orlando. He’d never really been around people with disabilities and other than his cousin’s autistic child, everyone one in his life was physically whole. He was in awe of how matter of fact they were about their injuries and how much joy they had in their life. And that’s when it started. Softly, almost a mere whisper, *his words cut through is consciousness. // you think we should pity you. *you* climbed that fucking drainpipe and fell... just another example of how truly stupid you are… now we should feel sorry for poor little Orli cause his back is sore... fucking selfish shit, that’s what you are… people have real problems Orli, yours barely even count…// A continuous monologue of destructiveness until Orlando sat so still and quiet Viggo was alarmed. “Orli, are you all right? Is it your back?” He asked concerned.
Orlando glared at him for bring up his back, not amongst this crowd, not in front of Bill. “You got a problem with your back Orlando?’ Bill asked curiously. “No, no, it’s fine, nothing really.” Orlando stammered in reply hoping the ground would swallow him whole.
“If you call breaking it and almost never walking again ‘nothing’.” Viggo was at a loss as to what was bothering the young man. “But I can walk.” Orlando glanced around and answered so softly only the three of them could hear.
“Orlando man, I just met you but I can assure you none of us would begrudge the fact that you had a successful recovery. Your back is nothing to fuck with. How long were you in the hospital?” Bill ate his lunch slowly eyes intently on Orlando.
“Uh not long, a month or so. Hated every second. I’m sure I willed myself to walk just to get out of there.” Orlando pushed his food around not wanting to look up at Bill who was just so blasé about it all.
“Yeah I know what you mean. I don’t know what was worse; waking someone up to help me take a piss or not knowing that I needed to piss because I was pumped so full of drugs. So what they give you?” He asked with curiosity.
Orlando replied with several medications that he had received over time. “Shit that’s strong stuff, you still taking it or are you able to get by with out?” Orlando forced himself not to look at Viggo before answering. “Um, I still take them now and then. Uh, some days are worse than others.” Knowing he was lying and knowing Viggo knew he was lying made him feel like shit. If Bill noticed any change in Orlando he didn’t let on, and continued casually. “So how’d you do it? Stunt gone wrong in a film or what?”
Orlando looked pained not wanting to reveal his stupidity. “I uh… I climbed up a drainpipe on a lark and fell three stories. Really stupid, yeah.”
Bill grinned “Not as stupid as jumping slow rolling freight cars with your buddies and falling underneath one.” Orlando’s eyes grew wide. “Really, that’s what happened? That’s horrible. How old were you?” Forgetting that he really didn’t want to have this conversation, Orlando jumped in with both feet. “I was nineteen and stupid. Trying to impress some girls, I ended up almost not having anything to impress them with. Found myself in the hospital for two months and came out with a really shitty attitude. I strung myself out on painkillers they insisted I needed -- and who was I to say no -- mixed with any alcohol I could get my hands on.” He grinned at Orlando before continuing, while Viggo watched the whole conversation, and especially Orlando with interest. “I threw myself a rather large pity party and made sure that everyone who was invited catered to my every whim, using any means necessary to stop taking responsibility for myself. It wasn’t until I was sent back to rehab because I wasn’t taking care of my wound properly and my prosthesis had cut into the swollen tissue so much it had cause more damage, that I got straightened out.” Orli gulped, he could feel a flush spreading up his neck, trying desperately to avoid looking at any similarities between their situations.
“Wanna know what changed for me?” Bill asked almost rhetorically. Orli nodded scared to hear the answer yet not able to break away from the conversation either. “There was this twelve year old kid in rehab, lost his leg in a boating accident. He looked at me in utter disgust and contempt when I fought the physiotherapists at every turn. When I’d whine and refuse to do things for myself because I was ‘crippled’ he’d roll his eyes. He laughed at me when I said the meds weren’t working anymore and I needed something stronger. Then one day I just freaked on him telling him I was going to kick his ass and instead of crying and being frightened of me he laughed and asked if I needed my meds first and could he help by getting me my crutches before he submitted to my one-legged ass-kicking. Basically he told me to get my head out of my ass and I kept telling him he was too young to understand; that my life was ruined, my career as a ski racer was ruined, and there was nothing he or anyone could do to fix that. He just looked at me and said that he was going to be a BMX star and nothing, not even one leg was going to stop him. And that was it. That little kid inspired me to change my whole life. I stopped taking my meds that day cold turkey; I don’t even as much as take aspirin anymore; sometimes pain is a good reminder of how much you have to live for, you know? I got back into skiing and I haven’t looked back.” Viggo saw Orlando retreat inside himself again, and he could only imagine the turmoil he was feeling. Wanting Orlando to hear the rest, Viggo asked Bill to tell them what happened to the kid.
“The kid, well Brad didn’t become the BMX champ he wanted to be. Things were changing in the cycling world and mountain biking became the next big thing. He competed and won many medals for Canada at the Paralympic games in mountain biking. He’s 36 now and still pretty fucking amazing. Godfather to my son. I may have changed my life, but he inspired me to do it… still does.”
*His* voice got stronger in Orli’s head as he battled to drown it out. Suddenly Orlando felt as if he’d been set up, as if Viggo had planned this to make a point. He could feel the anger build, encouraged by the *his* voice. //your buddy set you up… thinks you’re a fuck up… thinks you’ll be fucking inspired by this shit… but we both know you can’t do it Orli… you’re weak and pathetic…// In the background the band was wrapping up, people were being thanked and the winners were being announced, none of it reached Orlando. It was if time stood still. He glanced at Viggo seeing the overwhelming look of concern was unbearable. He pushed himself away from the table and tugged on his hat. “I’ve got go. I’m, um, not feeling very well.” He reached to shake Bill’s hand and put on his most gracious smile, thanking him for skiing with them and sharing his story, before he bolted from the table stumbling and sliding in his haste. Viggo rose to follow when Bill grabbed his arm. “Let him go Vig. The kid needs some space. Being around all of us probably gave him a bit of survivor guilt. I’d probably hazard a guess to say that he’s still battling with meds by the way he reacted. Gut feeling really. Most people don’t flee from my story unless they’ve got some unfinished business of their own, that much I do know.” He gave Viggo’s arm a squeeze urging him to sit. Viggo watched as the young man chatted briefly with some fans before getting his board and leaving.
It wasn’t long before Dom and Elijah noticed Orlando was missing and came over. “So where is the little punter who beat us?” Asked Dom wryly, knowing he’d be cooking dinner that night. Viggo nodded in the general direction that Orli took and answered, “He wasn’t feeling well, so he headed back.” The two hobbits exchanged concerned looks. “By himself, he went by himself?” Asked Elijah. “He never goes by himself if someone else is around. Is he all right?”
“I’m sure he’s fine Elijah, he just wanted to be on his own for a while, said he wasn’t feeling well. Everything’s wrapping up now so we can go catch up with him if it’ll make you feel better.” The two men nodded and went to say their good-byes and get their boards. Watching Viggo stare into nothingness Bill considered what to say very carefully. “Word of advice, Vig, not that you need any. It’s a fine balance supporting someone that’s troubled. Be firm but gentle; let him know you care but don’t do it for him. That’s all I can give you.” Viggo stared at his friend, his own thoughts echoed Bill’s advice. “Thanks Bill, I’ll do that.”
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Viggo got back first and was shaking the snow off his skis when the hobbits slid in. The three of them left their jackets and snowy boots in the mudroom quietly, not wanting to disturb Orlando if he was sleeping. Viggo stepped through the kitchen door first and stopped abruptly, only to have the two younger man bounce off his back with grunts and groans. Peering around Viggo who was still frozen in the doorway, they stared in disbelief. Every drawer was pulled open every cabinet door ajar; on the floor laid fresh flowers in a mosaic with shards of broken glass and water; and at the table, forehead laid upon his folded arms, sat Orlando trembling. “Orli…” Elijah and Dom both tried to get around Viggo and to their friend. Viggo motioned them to be quiet and stay put. Taking a step into the shambles of his beautiful kitchen he took a deep breath to calm himself before speaking. “Orlando, what happened here?” He asked gently but with a firmness that said don’t fuck with me.
“Orlando raised his head, cold fury snapping in his eyes. “You fucking bastard. You fucking set me up, you betrayed by trust not once but twice.” The venom in his voice was palpable. “I want my fucking pills Viggo, I want them right now.”
Viggo looked confused. “Your pills? I don’t have your pills Orlando, why would I have them?”
“Don’t give me that shit Viggo. You told me to leave them here. ‘You’re only 15 minutes away Orli.’ You said. And like a fucking idiot I trusted you. You came back in, you came back and took them didn’t you… Then you had your *friend* talk to me… tell me his fucking story about how the drugs nearly ruined his life. I’m not like *Bill*, Viggo. I don’t need fixing. I’m fine the way I am, so just give me my fucking pills.” Orlando was yelling at this point, spittle fly from his lips as he worked himself into a rage. Viggo stared him down calmly, drawing on everything he learned about himself over the last few years. “Orlando, I don’t have your pills, I never took them.” Viggo looked around at the shattered vase on the floor. “Before you saw fit to trash my home did you have a look around you? Do you remember us having fresh flowers when we left this morning? Astrid brings those when she comes each time. I did tell you she was coming. Ever think that maybe Astrid put your pills away when she cleaned the house today?”
Orlando looked at the flowers on the floor, remembering how Viggo hummed to himself in the kitchen that morning throwing out the old flowers and rinsing the vase. He suddenly started feeling really sick, sicker than he imagined he felt up the mountain, sicker than he thought possible. Worried at what Viggo would do he tensed up waiting for what ever was to come.
Viggo folded his arms across his chest and continued with an eerie calm. “I suggest you try the upstairs medicine cabinet. Astrid knows I don’t like medication lying around, I’m sure that’s where she put them. And if they’re not there, her number is next to the fridge, you can call her and ask where she might have put them.” He paused giving himself a moment to gather his thoughts again. “Dom, Lijah and I are going to get what we need for dinner, and when we get back I expect that my kitchen will resemble something less like a disaster zone.” Turning on his heels he strong armed the hobbits out the door, gesturing for them to be quiet and get their stuff on. Viggo was about to close the door behind him when he realized that something that Orlando had said earlier still needed to be addressed. Turning back Viggo looked Orlando in the eye and consciously moderated his tone. “Orli, Bill was never a set up; you’ll just have to trust me on that.” Viggo clarified before closing the door softly behind him.
Once in the Rover the Elijah was in tears. “Viggo we can’t leave him like that. What if he does… something? He needs us. He needs to know we love him. You don’t understand everything he’s been through.” With more calm than he felt, Viggo started the vehicle and made his way down the driveway.
“I do understand Elijah. I understand more than you know. Orli doesn’t need you coddling him and cleaning up his messes. He needs to feel like you believe in him enough to fix his own mistakes. Every time you two come to his rescue, you’re allowing him to stay the way he is -- unhappy, unfulfilled and sometimes out of control. Orlando has to start doing for himself and if he fucks up he needs to know you’ll support him not come in like a salvage crew and take away his ability to learn from his mistakes by taking responsibility for them.” Viggo hands were shaking on the steering wheel. Praying he was doing the right thing; praying that Orli would find the strength he needed, and scared to think of what would happen if he didn’t.
“But…” began Elijah before Dom stopped him. “No, Lij, I think Viggo’s right. I think we need to let Orli do this. We’ll be right back. We’ll show him how much we love him then, okay.” Turning from the front seat to soothe his lover, he could see that Elijah was not convinced but willing to trust him none the less. The rest of the trip was quiet, allowing Viggo the opportunity to wonder if he had just screwed up spectacularly.
Arriving back at the house, Viggo entered from the mudroom with caution, not knowing what to expect. At first glance Orlando was no where to be seen. The kitchen was immaculate; the broken vase was cleaned up and the few remaining flowers, not too battered from the experience were placed in a decanter. Putting the groceries down on the counter he surveyed the area for Orlando as the hobbits crept in warily. Worried that the young man had left, or worse, they called out for him with no answer. Viggo couldn’t contain himself any longer. He took the stairs two at a time, stumbling into the empty loft. He paused noting that all of, or at least what looked like all of Orlando’s things were still there, including his pills which stood next to the clock on the bedside table. Pausing at the top of the stairs he caught a glimpse of his studio door ajar and he allowed himself the barest hint of a smile. Quietly he strode to the end of the hallway and stood in the doorway. Orlando was perched on a chair, earphones on, his full concentration on the clay in front of him. Viggo walked toward him, giving him a wide enough berth that he would see him in his peripheral vision and not be startled. Once Orlando looked up and started to remove his headphones, Viggo placed a hand on his back, just happy that Orlando didn’t pull away. Rubbing in small, soothing circles, he watched the young man beside him; somehow different from the trembling enraged man that he had encountered in the kitchen, different, calmer and somehow more remote.
“The kitchen looks good.” He offered quietly. Without looking up from the clay Orlando stiffen slightly. “I didn’t know where to put the glass so I left it out in a box with the recycling.” Viggo could feel how far Orlando had retreated from him, his voice was monotone and resigned without any of the beautiful lilt that had made Viggo heart beat faster. Suddenly Viggo wanted to steer the conversation to something safer. “We’re going to start dinner; you won the bet and beat us all, so the boys and I are cooking. Veggie lasagna and garlic bread is on the menu. I hope you’ll join us.” He gave Orlando’s shoulder a squeeze hoping for an answer, though not expecting one.
“I’m not really hungry.” Orlando mumbled continuing to work the clay without looking up. Dom and Elijah arrived in the doorway looking relieved and just in time to hear Orlando say. “I really just want some time on my own, Vig. I’ll be down in a while, yeah.” Viggo resisted the urge to brush an errant chestnut curl from his brow and place a chaste kiss on his temple. Instead he stayed very still, feeling the weight of everything still not said between them; they needed to talk, if not today, then tomorrow or the next day.
Viggo felt something shift inside him, as if the wall he’d built was cracking and crumbling, leaving him open and vulnerable. He wanted to tell Orlando everything. He wanted to tell him about James and about Sean and all the horror and anguish that he’d been through. He wanted to show Orlando that it was possible to work through torment and suffering and emerge, scarred but not irreparably damaged. Perhaps in sharing his story, Viggo would be able to complete his own healing. Yes they definitely need to talk.
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Orlando stood outside the door to Viggo’s bedroom, listening for any hint of sound, his hand on the door knob trembled as he turned it. He’d never been in Viggo’s room, and now standing there in the doorway seeing it for the first time, bathed in the light reflected off the snow outside, creating varying shades of grey and cradling Viggo in it’s softness, was breathtaking.
Silently he stepped inside and curled himself in a worn, wing-back chair, studying the man who had given him so much, knowing he would never have this opportunity again. The tears that had been on verge of falling suddenly spilled down his cheeks. He muffled a sob as he buried his mouth in his arms on his drawn up knees, never taking his eyes off the man who look so serene and unaware he was being watched.
Orlando had first suspected when Viggo had discovered him in the kitchen earlier that evening but he hadn’t known until Viggo found him in the studio later. It was more than a look or a touch, it was more than his words spoken with such care and kindness, it was everything left unsaid, everything that was reflected in every moment that they shared – it was love. Orlando’s heart ached with the knowledge that his love was tainted and doomed to fail. He couldn’t endure the thought of ever hurting this man and knew in the end he would. He couldn’t be everything Viggo needed or deserved; he couldn’t be sure that he would be able to be the man that Viggo believed he was and knowing that, Orlando knew that whatever they shared had to end before it began. He had come in the dead of night to grieve the love they would never see come to fruition.
The minutes melted into each other as if time stood still. Orlando tried to absorb the essence of the older man and keep it like one of his charms he wore, never wanting to go anywhere without it. His thoughts caressed the sleeping form in the shadowy pre-dawn hours and as if their two souls were connected Viggo opened his eyes already knowing that Orlando was there. “Orli?” Viggo’s whisper cut through the stillness of the night.
Orlando froze hoping to blend into the chair, unseen in the darkness. Without the need for words, Viggo shifted in the bed and drew back the covers inviting the broken younger man in. The moment stretched and became taught with indecision, both men unsure of anything yet positive of one – the depth of feeling that touched their hearts. Frightened that any break in the silence would release the torrent of words and feelings he was holding back, Orlando crawled into the bed without a sound. He felt Viggo gently spoon in behind him, enfolding him into a loose embrace. Viggo’s warm breath slid across his skin and played lightly in his curls. Overwhelmed by the sensations of intimacy, heart wrenching sobs tore through Orlando, causing Viggo to entwine his fingers through Orlando’s and urge him closer. Orlando’s body shuddered with emotion as he let go, until finally his breathing slowed, his body relaxed and only his tears continued to fall silently. Viggo kissed his shoulder chastely and Orlando’s heart grew heavy knowing that Viggo felt that this was a beginning, while he was certain now, without a doubt, that it would have to end.
TBC
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Date: 2005-08-19 04:15 am (UTC)*is jealous of your writing*
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Date: 2005-08-19 04:23 am (UTC)rb
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Date: 2005-08-19 04:22 am (UTC)Great chapter! Thanks
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Date: 2005-08-19 04:35 am (UTC)Thanks for reading,
rb
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Date: 2005-08-19 05:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-19 06:03 am (UTC)Cheers,
rb
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Date: 2005-08-19 06:03 am (UTC)I can't wait to read the next chapter. Thank you.
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Date: 2005-08-19 06:06 am (UTC)Cheers,
rb
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Date: 2005-08-19 08:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-19 01:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-11 10:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-12 08:01 pm (UTC)cheers, rb