My Confession 8/? VigOrli
Sep. 28th, 2005 11:46 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 don't know them. I hope Orlando is a lot nicer than this.
“Front desk.”
“This is Orlando Bloom in Suite ten-fifteen.” Orlando paced as he talked.
“Yes, sir, Mr. Bloom.”
“I’d like an order of toast and tea. Rye toast, dry. Earl Grey tea. I also will be checking out in about ninety minutes, and need all of the paperwork taken care of. I’ll need someone to arrange a flight for me as well.”
“Of course, Mr. Bloom…but we were under the impression that you’d be with us until tomorrow morning.”
“I can change my mind, can’t I?”
“Of…of course, Mr. Bloom. I’ll send someone up to you directly.”
Orlando hung up and frowned at the phone for a moment. He knew he should have been a little nicer to the innocent person on the other end of the phone, but his mind was whirling in too many different directions to worry about his manners. He hadn’t slept after returning to the suite and seeing Viggo’s painting. He had finally settled down on the balcony, drinking beer, staring out over the cityscape and wondering when the hell he had started to become this nightmare of a spoiled celebrity.
He went to the bedroom and pulled out his bags. He slowly started to fold and pack his clothes, stopping every few seconds to stare into space and think about Viggo. The doorbell rang, bringing Orlando out of his reverie. He answered it with a suit folded over his arm. Rebecca, the employee who he had given the dinner tickets to, stood in the hallway. Over one shoulder hung a black bag, and in her hands was a tray. “Good morning, Mr. Bloom.”
“Come in.” He waved her in, closing the door behind them. “Did you have a good time last night?”
“It was amazing, thank you. I had a hard time getting up for my shift this morning, but it was worth it.” She held the tray up. “Where would you like this?”
“In the bedroom, please,” he said absently. “I’m packing.”
“Of course, Mr. Bloom.”
He stopped walking and she almost ran into him. “Orlando, please. I’m starting to get tired of hearing Mr. Bloom every five minutes.”
“Yes, Mr. Bl…I mean, Orlando,” she said, smiling shyly. She set the tray on the small table in the bedroom and stared at the bed. “Do you, uh, need help packing?”
“Of course not,” Orlando said defensively. “I pack all the time.”
“Of course. Just thought I’d offer.” She slung the bag from her shoulder and pulled out a small laptop. “We usually do this over the phone, but I figured since the tray was coming up anyway…” She placed it on the desk and hooked it to the phone line, then hooked up the small printer as well.
“Thank you,” he said, returning to his packing.
“Leaving from LAX, I presume?” Her fingers flew over the keyboard.
“Yes…to Heathrow.” He disappeared into the bathroom, taking the tea with him.
“Flying first class?”
“Of course,” he called, and she rolled her eyes.
“How does this sound? A flight leaving LAX in four hours and…oh…wait…it has a layover in…”
“That’s fine,” Orlando said, returning with his toiletry bag and teacup. “I need time to think.”
“Oh.” Rebecca blinked. “If that’s what you’d like. The cost is…”
“I don’t care.” He picked up his wallet and pulled out a credit card. “Use this.”
“Oh. Okay.” She stared a moment then regained her mind. “Of course.”
Orlando shoved the rest of his things into the luggage, suddenly not even caring if they wrinkled or broke. “I appreciate this, Rebecca. I’m sure you have other work to do.”
“They told me that you were my priority this morning,” she said, and he smiled.
“Priority. Interesting.” She printed out his ticket and handed it to him, then shut down the computer. “Thank you,” he murmured, reading the page without really seeing it.
“Have a safe trip, Mr. Bloom.”
Orlando walked her to the door. “Have a nice day, Rebecca.” He shook her hand, sliding some money into it. She smiled her thanks and he closed the door behind her. He smiled as he imagined her face when she opened her hand and saw a one hundred dollar bill on her palm.
“Hello, this is Eric Bana.”
“Brother, where are you?”
“This couldn’t possibly be my little brother, Paris. Number one, I know he’s forgotten my bloody cell number, and number two, I’m not a big enough star to deserve the right to a phone call from HIM.”
“Eric, don’t.” Orlando closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against the wall of the privacy booth. “Please.”
There was a short pause. “Orlando, are you all right?”
“No. I need help.” Eric snorted. “I’m coming home. Are you still there?”
“Yes. We’re filming in England and Scotland through the end of the month. Where are you now?”
“In the airport in L.A., waiting to board. I’ll be home tonight. I’ll be on British Airways, flight twelve-ten.”
“And let me guess…you need a place to stay.”
“No, I wouldn’t impose like that. I was going to ask if you could reserve me a room at…”
“I’m in a suite. You can crash here, Orli.” Orlando heard Eric sigh. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”
“You could say that.” Orlando paused, his ears perked. “They just called for first class. Where are you staying?”
“I’ll come get you at the airport. Have a safe flight.” Eric hung up before Orlando could say anything further.
Orlando wearily walked off the plane, bag pulling at his shoulder. He had thought the time to think would be a good idea, but in the end it had only given him a headache. He had no clue what to do next, but he knew getting back to England was a start.
A large man with a dark beard and dark hair leaned against a wall near the gate. Sunglasses hid his eyes, and he wore a grey baseball cap. He pushed himself off the wall with an easy shrug as Orlando approached him. “Hey there.” Orlando bit at his bottom lip. “I…uh…”
“C’mere.” Eric pulled Orlando into his arms and crushed him with a warm hug. “Stupid little brother.”
Orlando clutched at Eric’s sleeves, fighting the urge to sob like a girl onto the broad shoulders. “Thank you for still liking me,” he whispered into Eric’s arm.
Eric pulled back to stare at him. “Let’s get outta here before we have an Oprah moment.” Eric easily took Orlando’s bag and led the way to the luggage area. “I have a car waiting out front.”
“You drove?”
“Some people still do.”
“I mean…there won’t be anyone else in the car?”
“No driver,” Eric promised. He handed Orlando the smaller of the suitcases and carried everything else. “Does Robin know you’re home?”
“No. She’s next on my list.”
“You have a list?”
“Well, right now it has three things on it…call you, come home, and call her. She can wait. By the time I call her, I need more things on the list.”
“Ah,” Eric said, though he sounded totally lost. He led the way out the door to the front drive of the airport. “The black one.” He nodded with his head and Orlando headed for the small car. He froze as he saw someone leaning against the passenger door.
“Lying fuck,” he snapped at Eric.
“I didn’t lie,” Eric said primly. “I said there was no driver. I didn’t say there was no one else in the car.”
Sean Bean stared at Orlando for a good hard moment. “Orlando.”
“Sean.” Orlando stood and fidgeted for a moment. Sean finally moved and held the front door open. Orlando ignored it and climbed into the back. Sean and Eric exchanged looks as Eric loaded the luggage into the car. Sean and Eric climbed in and Eric put the car into drive. “So…uh…you’re back in London.”
“Yes,” Sean said, turning slightly to look at Orlando. Orlando was looking out the window. “I flew back the morning after the dinner.” Orlando nodded. “Didn’t expect you to be back so soon.”
“What’s he doing here?” Orlando demanded. “I don’t think I asked him.”
“I asked him,” Eric said, glancing at him in the rear view mirror. “We talked yesterday, before you called, and he mentioned something about you being a bastard. I thought maybe you two could work it out with a mediator.”
“I don’t need a fucking mediator,” Orlando snapped.
“No, apparently what you need is a fucking babysitter,” Sean said.
“And what you need is to fuck off!” Orlando yelled.
“Both of you fuck off and shut up,” Eric interrupted. “We’ll be at the hotel in a few minutes. Keep your mouths shut ‘til we get there, okay?”
He parked the car at the hotel and the three men silently went into the building. No one spoke until they reached Eric’s suite. Orlando flopped onto the sofa. Eric sat next to him. Sean stood by a chair, finally sitting when Eric gave him an evil look.
“M’not a bastard,” Orlando said finally. “I guess you missed the part where you all were picking on me?”
“I guess YOU missed the part where you were being a bastard,” Sean said. “Christ, lad, is your brain truly not connected to your mouth?” He shook his head. “You pretty much made it sound that you were too important to even READ Bill and Dom’s screenplay, and then you made a big deal out of the fact that you don’t even bother to read ANY of your scripts. You let your agent do that. You could call in a favor to get the screenplay to a studio, but you sure as hell couldn’t DO a favor by being a part of it.”
“That wasn’t what I meant and you know it!” Orlando insisted. “I’m proud of them, and I’d like to be a part of it.”
“Bullshit,” Sean snapped. “And how do I know what you meant? No one knows what you mean anymore, Orlando. We don’t know what you mean or who you are or what the hell you’re trying to become. We just know what you’re not, and you’re NOT our friend. You’re not our Elf, you’re not our Orlando. You’re this…this…”
“Pod person?” Eric interjected. Sean glared at him. “Okay, back to silent mediator. Sorry.”
“I’m who I’ve always been, Sean. I’m sorry if that’s not good enough,” Orlando said.
Sean snorted. “Not good enough? Mate, if anyone’s not good enough, apparently it’s us. You haven’t given us the time of day since those pirate movies started taking off. We’ve barely seen hide nor hair of you since then.” He held up a hand as Orlando’s mouth opened. “And DON’T say you’ve been busy. We’re all busy, Orlando, and we still find time for our friends.” Sean folded his arms over his chest. “And don’t even get me started about Viggo.”
“Viggo?” Orlando stood. “I don’t think what happened between Viggo and I is anyone’s business.”
“Oh, but it is, Orlando. It becomes my business when one of my best mates comes to me crying in his ale because his heart’s been broken.”
“He wouldn’t do that.” Orlando stared at Sean. “Viggo doesn’t cry.”
“He does when he’s down and drunk enough. Besides, Orlando, you wouldn’t know, since you conveniently disappeared after you dumped him.”
“Dammit, I didn’t dump him!” Orlando said in exasperation. “When we started what we did, it was with the agreement that it was just sex. Just a way to get off. We liked each other as people and were attracted to each other. It’s not my fault that he thought he had feelings for me and that he saw it as more than it was!”
“That who had feelings for who?” Eric interrupted. Orlando stared at him. Sean started at him. Eric smiled pleasantly. “Cut the crap, Orli. You know your feelings were JUST as strong as Viggo’s.”
“I don’t think that…” Orlando began. Eric turned to Sean.
“You weren’t around him like I was during “Troy,” Sean. I heard the name Viggo, on average, about twenty times a day. “Viggo says this” and “Viggo says that.” It was enough to make me hate the bloke and I hadn’t even met him.” Eric’s dark eyes never left Orlando. “Start being a bit honest with yourself.”
Orlando sat back down and buried his head in his hands. “That’s why I’m back,” he said softly. “I realized something in L.A. I told Viggo, but the conversation didn’t end on the best of terms, and I’m not sure he believed me.” He looked up, his eyes pleading. “I was at my best when I was in New Zealand. I was at my best when I was with him, with all of you. You were a family, a big family that I’d never had, and I could be Orlando Bloom with you. Then the family went its separate ways, and I had to be Orlando Bloom all by myself. And then he turned into this…this…this selfish brat and I just let it happen because it was easier that way. I came home to start to…well…come home.” He rubbed at his forehead. “I always hated this phrase, but now I understand it. I need to find myself.” He looked at Sean and Eric, then angrily wiped at a tear. “I need you to help me. Fix me.”
Sean stood and came to sit next to Orlando. He threw an arm around Orlando’s shoulders. “No one can do that but you, mate.”
“I’m sorry I called you names and was an all around twat,” Orlando said, welcoming the embrace.
“Yeah, well, the first step in recovery is admitting the problem,” Sean said, and Orlando actually laughed.
“You’re not doing this for Viggo, are you, Orli?” Eric asked softly. Orlando shook his head.
“No, I’m doing it for me. But he’s on the list.”
“Back to the list again.” Eric rolled his eyes.
rating: nc17
disclaimer: I don't know them. I hope Orlando is a lot nicer than this.
“Front desk.”
“This is Orlando Bloom in Suite ten-fifteen.” Orlando paced as he talked.
“Yes, sir, Mr. Bloom.”
“I’d like an order of toast and tea. Rye toast, dry. Earl Grey tea. I also will be checking out in about ninety minutes, and need all of the paperwork taken care of. I’ll need someone to arrange a flight for me as well.”
“Of course, Mr. Bloom…but we were under the impression that you’d be with us until tomorrow morning.”
“I can change my mind, can’t I?”
“Of…of course, Mr. Bloom. I’ll send someone up to you directly.”
Orlando hung up and frowned at the phone for a moment. He knew he should have been a little nicer to the innocent person on the other end of the phone, but his mind was whirling in too many different directions to worry about his manners. He hadn’t slept after returning to the suite and seeing Viggo’s painting. He had finally settled down on the balcony, drinking beer, staring out over the cityscape and wondering when the hell he had started to become this nightmare of a spoiled celebrity.
He went to the bedroom and pulled out his bags. He slowly started to fold and pack his clothes, stopping every few seconds to stare into space and think about Viggo. The doorbell rang, bringing Orlando out of his reverie. He answered it with a suit folded over his arm. Rebecca, the employee who he had given the dinner tickets to, stood in the hallway. Over one shoulder hung a black bag, and in her hands was a tray. “Good morning, Mr. Bloom.”
“Come in.” He waved her in, closing the door behind them. “Did you have a good time last night?”
“It was amazing, thank you. I had a hard time getting up for my shift this morning, but it was worth it.” She held the tray up. “Where would you like this?”
“In the bedroom, please,” he said absently. “I’m packing.”
“Of course, Mr. Bloom.”
He stopped walking and she almost ran into him. “Orlando, please. I’m starting to get tired of hearing Mr. Bloom every five minutes.”
“Yes, Mr. Bl…I mean, Orlando,” she said, smiling shyly. She set the tray on the small table in the bedroom and stared at the bed. “Do you, uh, need help packing?”
“Of course not,” Orlando said defensively. “I pack all the time.”
“Of course. Just thought I’d offer.” She slung the bag from her shoulder and pulled out a small laptop. “We usually do this over the phone, but I figured since the tray was coming up anyway…” She placed it on the desk and hooked it to the phone line, then hooked up the small printer as well.
“Thank you,” he said, returning to his packing.
“Leaving from LAX, I presume?” Her fingers flew over the keyboard.
“Yes…to Heathrow.” He disappeared into the bathroom, taking the tea with him.
“Flying first class?”
“Of course,” he called, and she rolled her eyes.
“How does this sound? A flight leaving LAX in four hours and…oh…wait…it has a layover in…”
“That’s fine,” Orlando said, returning with his toiletry bag and teacup. “I need time to think.”
“Oh.” Rebecca blinked. “If that’s what you’d like. The cost is…”
“I don’t care.” He picked up his wallet and pulled out a credit card. “Use this.”
“Oh. Okay.” She stared a moment then regained her mind. “Of course.”
Orlando shoved the rest of his things into the luggage, suddenly not even caring if they wrinkled or broke. “I appreciate this, Rebecca. I’m sure you have other work to do.”
“They told me that you were my priority this morning,” she said, and he smiled.
“Priority. Interesting.” She printed out his ticket and handed it to him, then shut down the computer. “Thank you,” he murmured, reading the page without really seeing it.
“Have a safe trip, Mr. Bloom.”
Orlando walked her to the door. “Have a nice day, Rebecca.” He shook her hand, sliding some money into it. She smiled her thanks and he closed the door behind her. He smiled as he imagined her face when she opened her hand and saw a one hundred dollar bill on her palm.
“Hello, this is Eric Bana.”
“Brother, where are you?”
“This couldn’t possibly be my little brother, Paris. Number one, I know he’s forgotten my bloody cell number, and number two, I’m not a big enough star to deserve the right to a phone call from HIM.”
“Eric, don’t.” Orlando closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against the wall of the privacy booth. “Please.”
There was a short pause. “Orlando, are you all right?”
“No. I need help.” Eric snorted. “I’m coming home. Are you still there?”
“Yes. We’re filming in England and Scotland through the end of the month. Where are you now?”
“In the airport in L.A., waiting to board. I’ll be home tonight. I’ll be on British Airways, flight twelve-ten.”
“And let me guess…you need a place to stay.”
“No, I wouldn’t impose like that. I was going to ask if you could reserve me a room at…”
“I’m in a suite. You can crash here, Orli.” Orlando heard Eric sigh. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”
“You could say that.” Orlando paused, his ears perked. “They just called for first class. Where are you staying?”
“I’ll come get you at the airport. Have a safe flight.” Eric hung up before Orlando could say anything further.
Orlando wearily walked off the plane, bag pulling at his shoulder. He had thought the time to think would be a good idea, but in the end it had only given him a headache. He had no clue what to do next, but he knew getting back to England was a start.
A large man with a dark beard and dark hair leaned against a wall near the gate. Sunglasses hid his eyes, and he wore a grey baseball cap. He pushed himself off the wall with an easy shrug as Orlando approached him. “Hey there.” Orlando bit at his bottom lip. “I…uh…”
“C’mere.” Eric pulled Orlando into his arms and crushed him with a warm hug. “Stupid little brother.”
Orlando clutched at Eric’s sleeves, fighting the urge to sob like a girl onto the broad shoulders. “Thank you for still liking me,” he whispered into Eric’s arm.
Eric pulled back to stare at him. “Let’s get outta here before we have an Oprah moment.” Eric easily took Orlando’s bag and led the way to the luggage area. “I have a car waiting out front.”
“You drove?”
“Some people still do.”
“I mean…there won’t be anyone else in the car?”
“No driver,” Eric promised. He handed Orlando the smaller of the suitcases and carried everything else. “Does Robin know you’re home?”
“No. She’s next on my list.”
“You have a list?”
“Well, right now it has three things on it…call you, come home, and call her. She can wait. By the time I call her, I need more things on the list.”
“Ah,” Eric said, though he sounded totally lost. He led the way out the door to the front drive of the airport. “The black one.” He nodded with his head and Orlando headed for the small car. He froze as he saw someone leaning against the passenger door.
“Lying fuck,” he snapped at Eric.
“I didn’t lie,” Eric said primly. “I said there was no driver. I didn’t say there was no one else in the car.”
Sean Bean stared at Orlando for a good hard moment. “Orlando.”
“Sean.” Orlando stood and fidgeted for a moment. Sean finally moved and held the front door open. Orlando ignored it and climbed into the back. Sean and Eric exchanged looks as Eric loaded the luggage into the car. Sean and Eric climbed in and Eric put the car into drive. “So…uh…you’re back in London.”
“Yes,” Sean said, turning slightly to look at Orlando. Orlando was looking out the window. “I flew back the morning after the dinner.” Orlando nodded. “Didn’t expect you to be back so soon.”
“What’s he doing here?” Orlando demanded. “I don’t think I asked him.”
“I asked him,” Eric said, glancing at him in the rear view mirror. “We talked yesterday, before you called, and he mentioned something about you being a bastard. I thought maybe you two could work it out with a mediator.”
“I don’t need a fucking mediator,” Orlando snapped.
“No, apparently what you need is a fucking babysitter,” Sean said.
“And what you need is to fuck off!” Orlando yelled.
“Both of you fuck off and shut up,” Eric interrupted. “We’ll be at the hotel in a few minutes. Keep your mouths shut ‘til we get there, okay?”
He parked the car at the hotel and the three men silently went into the building. No one spoke until they reached Eric’s suite. Orlando flopped onto the sofa. Eric sat next to him. Sean stood by a chair, finally sitting when Eric gave him an evil look.
“M’not a bastard,” Orlando said finally. “I guess you missed the part where you all were picking on me?”
“I guess YOU missed the part where you were being a bastard,” Sean said. “Christ, lad, is your brain truly not connected to your mouth?” He shook his head. “You pretty much made it sound that you were too important to even READ Bill and Dom’s screenplay, and then you made a big deal out of the fact that you don’t even bother to read ANY of your scripts. You let your agent do that. You could call in a favor to get the screenplay to a studio, but you sure as hell couldn’t DO a favor by being a part of it.”
“That wasn’t what I meant and you know it!” Orlando insisted. “I’m proud of them, and I’d like to be a part of it.”
“Bullshit,” Sean snapped. “And how do I know what you meant? No one knows what you mean anymore, Orlando. We don’t know what you mean or who you are or what the hell you’re trying to become. We just know what you’re not, and you’re NOT our friend. You’re not our Elf, you’re not our Orlando. You’re this…this…”
“Pod person?” Eric interjected. Sean glared at him. “Okay, back to silent mediator. Sorry.”
“I’m who I’ve always been, Sean. I’m sorry if that’s not good enough,” Orlando said.
Sean snorted. “Not good enough? Mate, if anyone’s not good enough, apparently it’s us. You haven’t given us the time of day since those pirate movies started taking off. We’ve barely seen hide nor hair of you since then.” He held up a hand as Orlando’s mouth opened. “And DON’T say you’ve been busy. We’re all busy, Orlando, and we still find time for our friends.” Sean folded his arms over his chest. “And don’t even get me started about Viggo.”
“Viggo?” Orlando stood. “I don’t think what happened between Viggo and I is anyone’s business.”
“Oh, but it is, Orlando. It becomes my business when one of my best mates comes to me crying in his ale because his heart’s been broken.”
“He wouldn’t do that.” Orlando stared at Sean. “Viggo doesn’t cry.”
“He does when he’s down and drunk enough. Besides, Orlando, you wouldn’t know, since you conveniently disappeared after you dumped him.”
“Dammit, I didn’t dump him!” Orlando said in exasperation. “When we started what we did, it was with the agreement that it was just sex. Just a way to get off. We liked each other as people and were attracted to each other. It’s not my fault that he thought he had feelings for me and that he saw it as more than it was!”
“That who had feelings for who?” Eric interrupted. Orlando stared at him. Sean started at him. Eric smiled pleasantly. “Cut the crap, Orli. You know your feelings were JUST as strong as Viggo’s.”
“I don’t think that…” Orlando began. Eric turned to Sean.
“You weren’t around him like I was during “Troy,” Sean. I heard the name Viggo, on average, about twenty times a day. “Viggo says this” and “Viggo says that.” It was enough to make me hate the bloke and I hadn’t even met him.” Eric’s dark eyes never left Orlando. “Start being a bit honest with yourself.”
Orlando sat back down and buried his head in his hands. “That’s why I’m back,” he said softly. “I realized something in L.A. I told Viggo, but the conversation didn’t end on the best of terms, and I’m not sure he believed me.” He looked up, his eyes pleading. “I was at my best when I was in New Zealand. I was at my best when I was with him, with all of you. You were a family, a big family that I’d never had, and I could be Orlando Bloom with you. Then the family went its separate ways, and I had to be Orlando Bloom all by myself. And then he turned into this…this…this selfish brat and I just let it happen because it was easier that way. I came home to start to…well…come home.” He rubbed at his forehead. “I always hated this phrase, but now I understand it. I need to find myself.” He looked at Sean and Eric, then angrily wiped at a tear. “I need you to help me. Fix me.”
Sean stood and came to sit next to Orlando. He threw an arm around Orlando’s shoulders. “No one can do that but you, mate.”
“I’m sorry I called you names and was an all around twat,” Orlando said, welcoming the embrace.
“Yeah, well, the first step in recovery is admitting the problem,” Sean said, and Orlando actually laughed.
“You’re not doing this for Viggo, are you, Orli?” Eric asked softly. Orlando shook his head.
“No, I’m doing it for me. But he’s on the list.”
“Back to the list again.” Eric rolled his eyes.
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