My Confession 7/? vigorli
Sep. 27th, 2005 11:52 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
zebraljb.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
vigorliauthor: zebraljb
rating: nc17
disclaimer: i know neither but love both
You are the air that I breathe…You're the ground beneath my feet…When did I stop believing?
Orlando paced in front of the gallery, biting at his thumbnail. It was ten minutes to eleven, and Viggo was nowhere to be seen. The gallery was dark, and Orlando saw no one inside when he peered through the front window. He didn’t think Viggo would stand him up, though he knew he certainly deserved it. Viggo had the right to be utterly nasty and hateful to Orlando; Orlando had done everything to earn it.
“Sorry,” a voice said behind him. Orlando whirled around. Viggo smiled shyly. “I got caught up signing stuff in the office.” Viggo slung a small backpack up over one shoulder.
“It went well, then?” Orlando asked. Viggo nodded, wiping his hands on his thighs.
“I think I can finally breathe now without feeling like I’m going to vomit.”
Orlando blinked. “I didn’t think you got nervous, Vig.”
Viggo snorted. “If you only knew, Elf Boy. This calm exterior belies a very nervous heart.” He motioned down the street. “About three blocks down is a diner open all night…feel like something like that or would you prefer a drink?”
Orlando knew that no matter what he’d end up sounding like a stuttering fool. Better a sober fool than a drunk one. “That sounds fine. Lead the way. It looks pretty safe.”
“I don’t have a sword, but I’ll protect your virtue,” Viggo promised.
It was Orlando’s turn to snort. “I lost that a long time ago, Viggo. In more ways than one.”
Viggo didn’t respond, simply leading the way down the sidewalk. They exchanged small talk before arriving at the tiny diner. Viggo held the door for Orlando. “Two,” he told the man at the counter.
“Right this way,” the man said, leading them to the farthest booth in the back. “Something to drink for you, gentlemen?”
“Coffee. Black. Strong,” Viggo said. “And water.”
“I’ll have coffee, too. Water as well. Could you put a slice of…” Orlando paused. “Coffee and water. That’d be great.” He shrugged out of his jacket, meeting Viggo’s questioning gaze. “What?”
“Nothing.” Viggo straightened his napkin and lined up his silverware on the scratched table’s surface. “So, why exactly are you here?”
“Well, you asked me…”
“I mean here in California.”
“Well, I had some interviews, the charity thing, a meeting with the studios,” Orlando said, running a hand through his curls before leaning his arm across the back of the booth. “You know, the usual stuff.” He shrugged.
“Right,” Viggo said, nodding. His eyes searched Orlando’s face but didn’t seem to find what they were looking for. “And then?”
“And then I’ll go back to Europe. I have to do some publicity stuff for the last movie, then start meetings for this new one.” He pulled out the fax and handed it to Viggo. Orlando had it memorized.
Viggo scanned it quickly. “Looks big.”
“Yes. Big.”
“And loud.
“That too.”
“And bloody…and violent…and epic…and did I mention big?” Viggo teased. “And expensive.”
“Right on all counts.” Orlando looked anything but thrilled.
“Okay, guys, what can I get you?” The waiter put down their drinks.
Viggo didn’t even look at the menu. “Turkey club, extra mayo, side of cole slaw, please.”
“Do you have soup?” Orlando asked.
“Cream of cauliflower, broccoli cheese and chili.”
“Give me a bowl of the broccoli with no crackers and a baked potato with nothing on it.” Orlando handed over his menu with a flourish. The waiter raised an eyebrow, as did Viggo. “Please,” Orlando said almost shyly.
“Thank you.” The waiter took their menus and left. Viggo stirred cream into his coffee.
“I noticed your salary. Even if the movie bombs you’ll never have to work again.”
“Yeah,” Orlando said, suddenly feeling exhausted.
“Are you going to do it?”
“I should. I know Robin wants me to.”
“Fuck what Robin wants,” Viggo said almost savagely. “For once in your life, Orli, do what YOU want.” Orlando blinked. “I’m shocked you even saw the damn papers. I thought she did that sort of thing for you.”
“She does! But I was here, and I told them to send them over, you know, to save time and…” Orlando shook his head. “What the hell am I explaining myself to you for?”
“Why do you feel the need to explain yourself to me, Orlando? It doesn’t make a difference what I think.”
“Because I CARE about what you think!” Orlando shot before he could stop himself. Viggo leaned back in his seat. Orlando blushed and played with his spoon. “I know you don’t think much of me, Vig, and it’s not like you shouldn’t, I mean, I know I’m a brainless git compared to you, and…”
“You’re not brainless, Orli,” Viggo interrupted. “You just chose a different path, that’s all. Don’t say that.”
“I can’t help but compare myself to you, Viggo,” Orlando said softly. “You’re what I want to be when I grow up.”
A smile twitched at Viggo’s lips. “And just when will that be?”
Orlando shrugged and smiled back. The waiter soon arrived with their food. Orlando busied himself with cutting up his potato and pushing it into his soup with his spoon. “I don’t really want to do the movie,” he said suddenly. Viggo froze in mid bite. “I had the papers sent to me for two reasons. First of all, I need to start taking responsibility for my career, like Beanie said. Secondly, I…I didn’t want her to see them before I did. I didn’t want her harping me about it.”
“I have something for you.” Viggo put down his sandwich and dug into his backpack. He handed Orlando a small folder.
“What’s this?” Orlando looked at the first piece of paper and froze. “The screenplay?”
“Yes. Read it. Billy was right, Orli. The part is you through and through.” Viggo took a bite of his slaw.
“I will. I promise.” Orlando sat the folder on the seat next to him. “Not that they want anything to do with me now.”
“If I can sit in a booth and have a civil adult dinner with you, they can at least talk to you about their work,” Viggo pointed out.
“About that.” Orlando took a few quiet slurps of soup. “I…I appreciate this, Viggo. I know I was a royal fool, a total arse in the way I treated you.”
“Water under the bridge,” Viggo said, waving his fork in the air.
Orlando’s heart sank. His hand actually shook so hard that he had to put his spoon down. “I…I see. Well, you know, I really never got the chance to apologize, and I just wanted to.”
“Closure,” Viggo said, nodding.
“Yes, well, no. Not exactly. I just…” And this was where the stuttering idiot sat down and took over Orlando’s brain. “I…I realized lately that I…”
“Is everything okay here?” The waiter appeared out of nowhere.
“Yes, we’re fine!” Orlando snapped. “If we need you, we’ll call.” The waiter frowned and went away. Orlando sighed and rubbed his forehead. Viggo sighed as well. Orlando looked at him, noticing everything that he thought he had pushed out of his mind. The cleft in the strong chin, the intelligence in the blue eyes, the smile lines at the corners of the tender lips.
“Why did you do it, Orlando?”
“Well, I told you. I thought you agreed that it was just a fling, during shooting. You know, recreational sex and all that, between two consenting friends.” Orlando forced himself to eat a bit more.
“And when I told you how I felt about you? That it was more than that?” Viggo’s palm slapped the table, causing Orlando’s soup to slop out of the bowl. “That meant nothing, then?”
“Of course it meant something. I told you that I did care about you, but…”
“But your career came first.”
“What happened to water under the bridge?” Orlando retorted.
“Fuck the water and fuck the bridge.” Viggo laughed, a cold sound. “Did you REALLY think that I could get over you like that?”
“It’s been a few years…”
“And you’re everywhere. On television. At the movies. I can’t get away from you, even if I wanted to. Why do you think I made sure to create a new life for myself out in the middle of nowhere? It’s the one place you couldn’t possibly get to me.” Viggo rubbed at the back of his neck. “And I sure as hell didn’t plan on saying all that, but as usual, you bring things out in me that I didn’t know were even fucking THERE.”
“Viggo.” Orlando’s voice was a quiet pleading sound. “I am so sorry. I never knew…I didn’t know you felt so strongly. I mean, about ME, of all people. I’m not worthy of you…not worthy of your time, your love, your emotions. I never was.” He reached out towards Viggo, then pulled back. He nervously played with a curl. “I’ve realized lately that I was at my best during that time with you. I felt like I could do anything, be anything. Because of us.” He smiled sadly. “Not that there really WAS an us, right? Because it was temporary. I thought so, at least. I could let myself be that other person…because it was a temporary paradise in New Zealand, and I didn’t think…I knew we couldn’t…”
“You couldn’t be Orlando Bloom the Movie Star while being Orlando Bloom the Gay Man,” Viggo finished. He threw down some money. “Orlando, thank you. This was truly necessary…and I think we both got our closure.” Viggo stood. “You’re coming along. Maybe in another five or six years you’ll grow up completely.” He left the diner without another word.
Orlando never even considered running after him. He added some money to Viggo’s and left the diner, leaving the staff to stare after him. He walked a few blocks until he could find a taxi, then returned to the hotel.
He plodded down the hall to his room. Upon flipping on the living room light, he was startled to see a large brown package leaning against the sofa. He grabbed the attached note, scanning it eagerly.
Orlando…like I could give this painting to anyone but you. You always were a gift to me…and I’ll never stop loving you. I write this as I nervously count the hours until I can meet with you tonight. Yours always, Viggo.
His heart sank as he put the note down and tore the brown paper. The red of the paint seemed like blood to Orlando. He fell onto the sofa, burying his nose in the cushions. He wished it was possible to beat himself to a bloody pulp.
rating: nc17
disclaimer: i know neither but love both
You are the air that I breathe…You're the ground beneath my feet…When did I stop believing?
Orlando paced in front of the gallery, biting at his thumbnail. It was ten minutes to eleven, and Viggo was nowhere to be seen. The gallery was dark, and Orlando saw no one inside when he peered through the front window. He didn’t think Viggo would stand him up, though he knew he certainly deserved it. Viggo had the right to be utterly nasty and hateful to Orlando; Orlando had done everything to earn it.
“Sorry,” a voice said behind him. Orlando whirled around. Viggo smiled shyly. “I got caught up signing stuff in the office.” Viggo slung a small backpack up over one shoulder.
“It went well, then?” Orlando asked. Viggo nodded, wiping his hands on his thighs.
“I think I can finally breathe now without feeling like I’m going to vomit.”
Orlando blinked. “I didn’t think you got nervous, Vig.”
Viggo snorted. “If you only knew, Elf Boy. This calm exterior belies a very nervous heart.” He motioned down the street. “About three blocks down is a diner open all night…feel like something like that or would you prefer a drink?”
Orlando knew that no matter what he’d end up sounding like a stuttering fool. Better a sober fool than a drunk one. “That sounds fine. Lead the way. It looks pretty safe.”
“I don’t have a sword, but I’ll protect your virtue,” Viggo promised.
It was Orlando’s turn to snort. “I lost that a long time ago, Viggo. In more ways than one.”
Viggo didn’t respond, simply leading the way down the sidewalk. They exchanged small talk before arriving at the tiny diner. Viggo held the door for Orlando. “Two,” he told the man at the counter.
“Right this way,” the man said, leading them to the farthest booth in the back. “Something to drink for you, gentlemen?”
“Coffee. Black. Strong,” Viggo said. “And water.”
“I’ll have coffee, too. Water as well. Could you put a slice of…” Orlando paused. “Coffee and water. That’d be great.” He shrugged out of his jacket, meeting Viggo’s questioning gaze. “What?”
“Nothing.” Viggo straightened his napkin and lined up his silverware on the scratched table’s surface. “So, why exactly are you here?”
“Well, you asked me…”
“I mean here in California.”
“Well, I had some interviews, the charity thing, a meeting with the studios,” Orlando said, running a hand through his curls before leaning his arm across the back of the booth. “You know, the usual stuff.” He shrugged.
“Right,” Viggo said, nodding. His eyes searched Orlando’s face but didn’t seem to find what they were looking for. “And then?”
“And then I’ll go back to Europe. I have to do some publicity stuff for the last movie, then start meetings for this new one.” He pulled out the fax and handed it to Viggo. Orlando had it memorized.
Viggo scanned it quickly. “Looks big.”
“Yes. Big.”
“And loud.
“That too.”
“And bloody…and violent…and epic…and did I mention big?” Viggo teased. “And expensive.”
“Right on all counts.” Orlando looked anything but thrilled.
“Okay, guys, what can I get you?” The waiter put down their drinks.
Viggo didn’t even look at the menu. “Turkey club, extra mayo, side of cole slaw, please.”
“Do you have soup?” Orlando asked.
“Cream of cauliflower, broccoli cheese and chili.”
“Give me a bowl of the broccoli with no crackers and a baked potato with nothing on it.” Orlando handed over his menu with a flourish. The waiter raised an eyebrow, as did Viggo. “Please,” Orlando said almost shyly.
“Thank you.” The waiter took their menus and left. Viggo stirred cream into his coffee.
“I noticed your salary. Even if the movie bombs you’ll never have to work again.”
“Yeah,” Orlando said, suddenly feeling exhausted.
“Are you going to do it?”
“I should. I know Robin wants me to.”
“Fuck what Robin wants,” Viggo said almost savagely. “For once in your life, Orli, do what YOU want.” Orlando blinked. “I’m shocked you even saw the damn papers. I thought she did that sort of thing for you.”
“She does! But I was here, and I told them to send them over, you know, to save time and…” Orlando shook his head. “What the hell am I explaining myself to you for?”
“Why do you feel the need to explain yourself to me, Orlando? It doesn’t make a difference what I think.”
“Because I CARE about what you think!” Orlando shot before he could stop himself. Viggo leaned back in his seat. Orlando blushed and played with his spoon. “I know you don’t think much of me, Vig, and it’s not like you shouldn’t, I mean, I know I’m a brainless git compared to you, and…”
“You’re not brainless, Orli,” Viggo interrupted. “You just chose a different path, that’s all. Don’t say that.”
“I can’t help but compare myself to you, Viggo,” Orlando said softly. “You’re what I want to be when I grow up.”
A smile twitched at Viggo’s lips. “And just when will that be?”
Orlando shrugged and smiled back. The waiter soon arrived with their food. Orlando busied himself with cutting up his potato and pushing it into his soup with his spoon. “I don’t really want to do the movie,” he said suddenly. Viggo froze in mid bite. “I had the papers sent to me for two reasons. First of all, I need to start taking responsibility for my career, like Beanie said. Secondly, I…I didn’t want her to see them before I did. I didn’t want her harping me about it.”
“I have something for you.” Viggo put down his sandwich and dug into his backpack. He handed Orlando a small folder.
“What’s this?” Orlando looked at the first piece of paper and froze. “The screenplay?”
“Yes. Read it. Billy was right, Orli. The part is you through and through.” Viggo took a bite of his slaw.
“I will. I promise.” Orlando sat the folder on the seat next to him. “Not that they want anything to do with me now.”
“If I can sit in a booth and have a civil adult dinner with you, they can at least talk to you about their work,” Viggo pointed out.
“About that.” Orlando took a few quiet slurps of soup. “I…I appreciate this, Viggo. I know I was a royal fool, a total arse in the way I treated you.”
“Water under the bridge,” Viggo said, waving his fork in the air.
Orlando’s heart sank. His hand actually shook so hard that he had to put his spoon down. “I…I see. Well, you know, I really never got the chance to apologize, and I just wanted to.”
“Closure,” Viggo said, nodding.
“Yes, well, no. Not exactly. I just…” And this was where the stuttering idiot sat down and took over Orlando’s brain. “I…I realized lately that I…”
“Is everything okay here?” The waiter appeared out of nowhere.
“Yes, we’re fine!” Orlando snapped. “If we need you, we’ll call.” The waiter frowned and went away. Orlando sighed and rubbed his forehead. Viggo sighed as well. Orlando looked at him, noticing everything that he thought he had pushed out of his mind. The cleft in the strong chin, the intelligence in the blue eyes, the smile lines at the corners of the tender lips.
“Why did you do it, Orlando?”
“Well, I told you. I thought you agreed that it was just a fling, during shooting. You know, recreational sex and all that, between two consenting friends.” Orlando forced himself to eat a bit more.
“And when I told you how I felt about you? That it was more than that?” Viggo’s palm slapped the table, causing Orlando’s soup to slop out of the bowl. “That meant nothing, then?”
“Of course it meant something. I told you that I did care about you, but…”
“But your career came first.”
“What happened to water under the bridge?” Orlando retorted.
“Fuck the water and fuck the bridge.” Viggo laughed, a cold sound. “Did you REALLY think that I could get over you like that?”
“It’s been a few years…”
“And you’re everywhere. On television. At the movies. I can’t get away from you, even if I wanted to. Why do you think I made sure to create a new life for myself out in the middle of nowhere? It’s the one place you couldn’t possibly get to me.” Viggo rubbed at the back of his neck. “And I sure as hell didn’t plan on saying all that, but as usual, you bring things out in me that I didn’t know were even fucking THERE.”
“Viggo.” Orlando’s voice was a quiet pleading sound. “I am so sorry. I never knew…I didn’t know you felt so strongly. I mean, about ME, of all people. I’m not worthy of you…not worthy of your time, your love, your emotions. I never was.” He reached out towards Viggo, then pulled back. He nervously played with a curl. “I’ve realized lately that I was at my best during that time with you. I felt like I could do anything, be anything. Because of us.” He smiled sadly. “Not that there really WAS an us, right? Because it was temporary. I thought so, at least. I could let myself be that other person…because it was a temporary paradise in New Zealand, and I didn’t think…I knew we couldn’t…”
“You couldn’t be Orlando Bloom the Movie Star while being Orlando Bloom the Gay Man,” Viggo finished. He threw down some money. “Orlando, thank you. This was truly necessary…and I think we both got our closure.” Viggo stood. “You’re coming along. Maybe in another five or six years you’ll grow up completely.” He left the diner without another word.
Orlando never even considered running after him. He added some money to Viggo’s and left the diner, leaving the staff to stare after him. He walked a few blocks until he could find a taxi, then returned to the hotel.
He plodded down the hall to his room. Upon flipping on the living room light, he was startled to see a large brown package leaning against the sofa. He grabbed the attached note, scanning it eagerly.
Orlando…like I could give this painting to anyone but you. You always were a gift to me…and I’ll never stop loving you. I write this as I nervously count the hours until I can meet with you tonight. Yours always, Viggo.
His heart sank as he put the note down and tore the brown paper. The red of the paint seemed like blood to Orlando. He fell onto the sofa, burying his nose in the cushions. He wished it was possible to beat himself to a bloody pulp.
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no subject
Date: 2005-09-27 07:24 pm (UTC)Having read this chapter I have to say that I love your story.
Thank you.
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Date: 2005-09-28 12:44 am (UTC)Thank you SO much.
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Date: 2005-09-28 12:00 am (UTC)I'm enjoying this very much...
cheers, rb
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Date: 2005-09-28 12:47 am (UTC)It just made me chuckle.
Thank you for the compliment to my dialogue; it's the one part of my writing that I'm most proud of...