Slippery Slope 14/?
Oct. 4th, 2005 08:45 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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vigorliTitle: Slippery Slope
Chapter: 14/?
Author: Rocketbalm
Pairing: OB/VM
Rating: R for language
Summary: A very quiet renunion.
Word Count: This Chapter: 5,218 Total 74,421
Content/warnings: AU, mild angst
X-Posted: Mirrormere, VOLA,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
vigorli and My LJ http://www.livejournal.com/users/rocketbalm/
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.
Chapter 14
Even though there were still a few hours of daylight left, the sun was almost at the point where it would begin to slip behind the mountains; painting the landscape with broad brush strokes of it’s golden hue. Viggo sat on his front porch, quietly drinking his tea. Orlando’s voice mail had not been specific as to when exactly he’d be arriving; just that his plane was arriving in Vancouver at 2:20 PM and he’d make his way to Whistler from there, arriving sometime late afternoon or early evening.
Viggo found his tea calming, as a tempest of emotions roiled through his body. He knew that putting a wall between his heart and Orlando would be difficult; yet with the memory of hurting one another still fresh, it seemed like a good idea. Orlando’s letter made it clear that he was looking for nothing more than friendship and Viggo would honour that. So he sat and he waited, not knowing what to expect, unsure what to say, and taking comfort in the serenity of his surroundings, broken only by the shrill cry of a whiskeyjack.
As the sun caressed the tallest peaks of the Tantalus range, it set the trees on fire in its light, and Viggo was mesmerized by nature’s creative whimsy, never tiring of its beauty. He didn’t notice the taxi pull quietly up, nor did he notice the young man step out; one large case with him, another, much smaller, courier type bag, slung across his shoulders. Viggo didn’t notice anything until he heard the soft click of the car-door close and the cab drive away leaving the young man standing at the bottom of the long drive, burnished by molten light; afire like a phoenix from the ashes. They looked at each other for a long minute, neither dared to move, until the younger of the two, slowly bent down and lifted the heavy case and made his way up to the house.
Standing in front of Viggo, Orlando set his bag on the first step of the wrap-around deck, nervously brushing the hair from his eyes. “Hey.” Was all Orlando could manage, worrying that his voice would break and his nerves would snap soon after. Viggo drank in the vision before him, quenching the thirst that had plagued him from the moment they parted. He nodded an acknowledgement and swallowed, hoping to moisten his parched throat before speaking. “You look good… healthy.” He finally managed.
Orlando flushed slightly at the compliment. “You too. I mean you always looked healthy, you just look… I don’t know, good. Yeah? Content maybe? Not that you weren’t…” realizing he was babbling he let the sentence fade into the early evening light. Viggo gave him a small smile. “You hungry? I didn’t know if you’d eat on the plane or on the way up so I waited.”
Orlando looked down at his feet. “I’m not sure if I could eat. I was too nervous on the plane and now…” Before he could finish, his stomach rumbled and gurgled as if wanting it’s opinion known.
Viggo smiled again. “I guess that answered the question for you. I’ve got some fish to grill and you can help with the salad. That work for you?”
Orlando gave him a tight nod. “Sure.”
The two men entered the house and Orlando realized he had been holding his breath. It was just as he had remembered – better even. He let the feeling of safety and comfort surround him until he was able to breathe again.
“I didn’t know if you’d want a room with a door this time so I cleaned out the downstairs guest room for you, but the loft is yours if you want it. Your choice.”
“The loft is great, Viggo. That is if you don’t mind. It’s all I’ve thought about since you agreed to let me come.”
“The loft it is then. You know where it is, so I’ll meet you in the kitchen when you’re settled.” With that he left the younger man standing in the foyer, wondering if Orlando’s heart was pounding as hard as his own.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Orlando made his way downstairs to the kitchen where he found the makings for a salad laid out on the counter, a pot of rice cooking on the stove, otherwise the kitchen was empty. He glanced covertly around until his eye caught Viggo standing outside by the grill staring into the fading summer’s eve light. He smiled as he admired Viggo’s silhouette. The months apart had done nothing to diminish his attraction to the older man -- Viggo’s skin burnished by hours of being outdoors, tawny hair streaked by the sun and his body toned and fit – everything he remembered and longed for.
With a sigh, Orlando washed his hands and carefully began to prepare a salad, peeling, chopping, cutting, setting a calming rhythm, trying to settle his nerves. Seeing Viggo again, being here, felt so right. Orlando’s emotions were so close to the surface, the routine of making a salad was enough to keep them from overwhelming him. He knew what came next. He’d done it several times in the week since he’d left recovery; each was difficult in its own way. Making amends to Viggo would be no less challenging.
Orlando carefully washed each lettuce leaf as he remembered the past week. Orlando was grateful that Sean was first; he had approached Sean during the drive back to London when he was released. Sean, as always, was gracious and forgiving; their conversation full of tears and memories both good and bad. In the end they had pulled off the road and walked through a field, enjoying a togetherness they once thought had been lost to them forever.
His Mum and Sam were next, both smothering him with kindness as he fought off their interruptions to get through everything he needed to say. When he was done, they smiled fondly at him and he wasn’t at all sure they had heard a word he said. The rest of the afternoon was spent listening to their praise and well meaning encouragement. His therapist had prepared him for peoples differing reactions and he knew that so far, he had been fortunate. He also knew that he couldn’t control the responses of others and come what may, his responsibility was to make an amend, make a change, not necessarily an apology but a discussion or action that was intended to clear up issues from the past. The rest was out of his hands. Some would be gracious as Sean was, others would pretend nothing had happened and everything was fine, still others would be angry and not accept his efforts easily.
Meeting with Dom and Elijah had made him so tense that he was shot-gunning herbal tea in an effort to relax. Sitting at their kitchen table, Elijah’s anger had been bubbling just below the surface as he obviously tried to keep himself in check. Orlando had figured he was under orders from Dom to be nice. Elijah was hyper-kinetic, vibrating with undiffused energy, fidgeting and Dom was trying his best to downplay any wrongdoing on Orlando’s part. That it was Elijah that was most angry surprised Orlando and he had to swallow several times before he could begin. Once he hit his stride, he was able to get through most of what he wanted to say before Elijah pushed his chair back from the table and left the room. The remaining two men sat frozen, unsure what just happened. Dom had recovered first and had reached for Orlando’s arm, telling him that Elijah would need a little time but that he would come around. They talked for a good half hour about Elijah’s resentment and how he was mostly furious at the unfair words that had been directed at Dom. Sweet, gentle, often sarcastic Elijah was angry. Not just angry but seething. It seemed that the gentle exterior once breached was daunting to try and mend. It had hurt Orlando to know he had caused his friends such pain and strife, and though there were still many fences to mend between them, he felt relieved that he had been given the opportunity to meet with them. He would continue to reach out to Elijah and hoped that in time they would get past this.
Orlando continued to wash and chop, watching Viggo through the window. Despite the relatively painless reception he’d received, he knew that things were far from settled and, while he believed in his heart that Viggo would not be spiteful with him, the possibility of cold indifference to his words, was not a welcome thought.
He wondered what Viggo was thinking, he had been standing so still out on the deck, bracing his arms on the railing as he looked across the valley. Sean had given him no clue as to what they might have talked about or where Viggo’s head was at, only that Viggo knew he had been at a recovery centre. Orlando’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he remembered his own cruel words that last time they had spoken. His misguided belief that Viggo didn’t know what physical pain was and how he had unknowingly belittle the other man’s experience. Not for the first time Orlando wondered if he would be forgiving of someone who had acted so uncaring and cavalier about what had happened to him.
The timer on the stove began to beep. Instinctively knowing that the rice was done, Orlando turned off the stove and removed the pot from the burner, smiling at how in tune the two of them had always been -- in the kitchen at least. He turned back to the array of veggies he’d prepped and saw Viggo watching him through the glass. Tentatively he raised his hand with a smile. Viggo nodded in response and turned back to the grill. Orlando sighed as he realized that soon he’d would have to bare his soul to the one person whose opinion mattered more than he cared to examine.
The French doors to the deck opened softly as Viggo entered carrying the grilled fish on a platter. The two worked quietly side by side, putting the salad together before lading their plates with food and sitting at the huge trestle table to eat. The meal was a quiet one, neither man ready to explore the others thoughts quite yet, each reacquainting themselves with the others presence. Finally Viggo broke the silence. “Brian wanted to come by tonight, but I thought I’d leave it to you as to when you wanted to see him.”
“Thanks… I’ll make sure to do that. Maybe in a day or two, yeah?” Orlando finished the last of his fish and quietly set his utensils down. He felt that his moment had come. Carefully he wiped his mouth with his serviette and whetted his suddenly dry mouth with a sip of water. “Viggo, I wanted to talk to you about…”
Before he could get the first sentence out Viggo raised his hand in a motion to stop. Orlando faltered and trailed off as he looked at the older man in confusion.
“Orlando, we’re going to be under the same roof for the foreseeable future, I don’t think we need to rehash everything the moment you get here. I know that we have a lot to talk about, that you have amends you feel you need to make, but let’s take it bit by bit… okay? Talk about things as they come up and not force a discussion that neither of us wants to have right now.” Viggo looked down at his meal and moved the last few vegetables in an pattern that only he could decipher.
“Uh… Okay.” Orlando stammered not really knowing what to make of what had just happened but grateful that this ‘homecoming’ memory wouldn’t be tarnished with what was sure to be a difficult conversation. Not knowing what else to do he rose to start clearing the table.
“Orlando, wait.” Viggo motioned for Orlando to take his seat again. “There are a few things I would like to… say.” Viggo cleared his throat, not entirely comfortable with where he was going to take the conversation. “While you’re here, I thought that it would be good to set a few house rules. First and foremost you are to be clean and sober. I know from Sean that drinking isn’t an issue for your recovery but I would prefer that while you are here you don’t get *drunk*. A glass of wine or a beer now and then, I’m not worried about – it’s getting drunk I’d prefer you avoid.” Orlando nodded; his face red with embarrassment. “Secondly, we’ll share the chores, cooking either together or alternating evenings, whatever works. Astrid still comes on Tuesdays, so all your laundry needs to be in the laundry room that morning. I’d appreciate if you kept the loft and bathroom relatively tidy, I don’t want to have her take on more work than necessary. The shopping we can work out, whether we do it together, take turns or pick up things as they’re needed… If you’re going to be home later than 11 PM leave me a note or give me a call. I’m not trying to check up on you, I’ll just worry otherwise. And lastly, no over-night guests.” Viggo paused for a moment as if taking a mental inventory. “That’s it I think. All right?”
Orlando stood with his mouth agape, taken aback at what he heard. When Viggo finished and looked up at him, Orlando recovered quickly and nodded in agreement murmuring, “Yes… fine,” before he rose again and began to clear the table. He was barely in the kitchen before his throat grew tight as his eyes welled up with tears. Careful to keep his back to Viggo, Orlando filled the sink with water as he sorted out what had just been said. It wasn’t that Viggo had rules that upset him – *that* he had been prepared for, it was some of the rules and what they implied. First, Orlando couldn’t imagine being out past 11 PM unless he was with Viggo. He wasn’t here to party, he was here to fulfill his obligation, to give back to the town and, above all, to make amends to Viggo. Secondly, over-night guests… How could Viggo even think he’d *want* to pick anyone up, let alone bring them back here? Did he really think so little of him? Obviously he did; obviously being just friends wasn’t going to be an issue for Viggo. Feeling a tear escape he blinked rapidly trying to stem the tide as he mopped up the traitorous defector on his shirt sleeve, before he realized that Viggo was talking to him.
Realizing that Orlando hadn’t heard him and had in fact, been incredibly quiet since the ‘House Rules’ chat. Walking up behind Orlando, Viggo placed a hand gently on the younger man’s shoulder, “Orli?” Orlando didn’t turn around and not trusting his voice and answered with an ‘umhmm’. Viggo knew then that something was not quite right. “Orli… what’s wrong?”
Orlando took a deep breath and did the only thing he could do, the last thing he wanted to do, the one thing he had promised himself he wouldn’t do. He lied. “Wrong? Nothing, I’m just… uh… tired. From the flight and the drive and everything. I think I… um… just need to upstairs and sleep, yeah? Viggo watched as Orlando wiped his hands on a dishtowel, careful not to look at the older man. Viggo could tell that it wasn’t that easy, that Orlando wasn’t telling him something. For now he would let him keep his secrets. “Okay Orli, let me finish up here and you head up… I’ll see you in the morning then.”
“Thanks Vig, I’m sure I’ll be feeling better tomorrow, yeah? A rest will do me good.” Both men stood staring at each other awkwardly, not knowing what to do next. After a moment, Viggo reached up and gave Orlando’s shoulder a squeeze. “Good night Orlando. I’m glad you came.”
Orlando shuffled his feet and looked at Viggo shyly from beneath a stray lock of hair. “Good night Vig, and thanks.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Viggo finished up in the kitchen, opened a beer and sat down in his favourite chair to think. The day had been surreal -- not at all as he had imagined. So much had changed since they last saw each other and yet so much remained the same. Viggo’s head and heart were still war with each other -- both had made equally impassioned pleas, though so far Viggo had listened to his head and let his heart yearn for something more. The last few months had been quite a journey.
For several weeks he had wallowed in sorrow and self-pity, feeling an acute sense of loss yet not really understanding what it was he had lost. More than anything he was amazed at how much the young man had come to mean to him in just under a week. Viggo would replay the memories they shared endlessly, searching each moment for deeper insight and cringing at the hints of truth he found in Orlando’s words when he had lashed out. None wounded him more so than: I don’t need you to stand in front of me, clad in your self-righteousness and tell me how to live my life when your living with all these walls, so afraid to let anyone close, that at this rate, you’re going to die a lonely old man.
He had always enjoyed his solitude, reveling in it. When he had found James, Viggo had turned his life upside down to accommodate his lover – trying to prove to them both that it was what he wanted. After the trial, Viggo had been content to go back to a solitary life, filling his time with art and the closeness of friends. Orlando had changed all that. Somehow in a week, he had shown Viggo that he didn’t want to be alone. Whether it was sharing the mundane moments in each day, cooking, reading, watching the news; sharing the fun of a day out or arguing – Viggo wanted all of it. He wanted to come home to the same someone every day. He wanted to laugh or cry while watching a movie with someone; he wanted to debate politics and lament societal failings; he yearned to just sit, reading a book, sharing a moving passage or poignant moment – he realized that being alone was just not enough anymore.
After many heated discussions with Brian, he finally agreed to start dating again. It was a painful experience. He had never been good at dating in college and now all his quirks and oddities seemed magnified. He suffered through the embarrassment and false starts, determined to move forward and on some level he wanted to prove Orlando wrong. The few dates he had gone on, while not disasters, were less than satisfactory to either party. On more than one occasion Viggo found himself comparing his dates to Orlando which was completely unfair to his unsuspecting companion. It wasn’t until one tactile young man had pushed Viggo’s limits of personal space and leaned in for a kiss, that he realized that dating was going to be hopeless; Orlando still too fresh in his mind, his body rejecting the idea of anyone else. Getting Orlando out of his head was proving to be almost impossible.
During that time Sean had been calling to discuss getting Orlando into recovery, not realizing how hard it was for Viggo to be constantly talking about the one person he was trying to let go of. Sean was grateful for Viggo’s support whenever he doubted that he was doing the right thing. While it was difficult to talk about Orlando it also gave Viggo a sense of peace and hope that the beautiful young man would find the help he needed. When Orlando finished therapy Viggo was sure that he would be distant memory or at least put firmly into a supporting role. After all, once healed, Orlando would have the world at his fingertips; it wasn’t likely that Viggo would be the one he’d want to share that with.
He had been prepared to receive Orlando’s note, Sean had told him to expect it. He felt the bittersweet sting of being right, when he read that Orlando wanted nothing more than friendship from him. When he wrote his response he was deliberately short and to the point, partly to protect his already bruised heart and partly because more than anything he knew it wouldn’t be fair to push his feelings onto the younger man in light of what he had written. Even if he could sway Orlando to give them a chance, it was completely out of the question to get involved with someone going through recovery. It wouldn’t be fair to Orlando and it would be fair to him. He had read a lot about addiction and recovery during the past few months, and one thing he did learn was that people in recovery often traded their addiction for a different kind of crutch – an attraction to someone supportive in their recovery. More than anything Viggo had to give Orlando every opportunity for independence and that meant keeping his own desires in check.
He hadn’t known exactly what to expect when he saw Orlando again after five months but he had been quite certain that his own response would be measured and slightly distant; he certainly hadn’t expected the strong emotions that had washed over him when he saw the glowing figure at the bottom of the drive. His heart practically leapt from his chest; his body hummed with excitement, feeling the connection that had been between them; his soul sang as it recognized the kindred spirit. Not at all the slightly detached version of himself he had prepared to portray. He had been grateful for the tea in his hand at the time or he was sure he would have gathered the young man in his arms and held on and never let go.
It was only after Orlando had gone upstairs to stow his things, that Viggo was able to stop his heart from pounding and reign in his emotions. Over the last few weeks he had thought long and hard about having Orlando stay at the house. It was important that he set some ground rules and give the arrangement some structure right from the start. He toyed with the idea of requesting no overnight guests but it wasn’t until he actually saw Orlando and his reaction to him that he made up his mind. It would be hard enough if Orlando decided to date while he was here; it would be impossible if he brought home potential lovers. The thought made Viggo physically ill. It was then that Viggo realized that while his intent for nothing more than friendship remained, his heart was still very much engaged.
Orlando’s reaction to the house rules had surprised him. For some reason something he had said had upset the young man. Viggo could only imagine how hard it would be living under someone else’s rules after being free to do whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted. He had assumed that coming out of recovery where the rules were much more stringent, that his house rules would be easy in comparison. Maybe Orlando had the perception that he wasn’t trusted. Viggo sighed. They would have to figure out how to be with one another again, regain the easy togetherness that they once shared.
Viggo sat lost in his own thoughts until his beer was warm in his hand. Glancing up, he noticed that the light in the loft was still on. Perhaps Orlando was having the same difficulty sorting out his own thoughts. Viggo wondered if he should go up and see if he could help, maybe they would be able to laugh at their awkwardness and move forward.
Pouring the warm beer down the sink he turned off the downstairs lights and made his way past his own bedroom, letting his feet take him up to the loft. He hesitated, questioning whether he should just turn around and go back down or if Orlando had heard him; he needn’t have worried. His hand on the dividing wall he stepped quietly into the dimly lit loft, whispering “Orlando?”. The sight before sent his heart into overdrive. In the soft glow of the bedside lamp, Orlando lay fast asleep, his hand curled loosely around a pen, his face pressed against a spiral bound notebook, dark lashes feathered softly against his cheek. His curls a dark halo in contrast to the creamy smoothness of the sheets, his bare upper torso, tanned and sleek to where the duvet covered him. Viggo listened to the gentle sound of Orlando’s breathing trying to match his own heartbeat to the slow rhythm filling the room.
Viggo stood there just watching, memorizing each detail, not to paint or sketch but to cherish the image and turn it over in his mind at his leisure. Reluctantly he moved toward the bed, not wanting to disturb the sleeping figure. Carefully Viggo removed the pen from the inert form and gently began to slide the book from beneath the fan of dark lashes, when Orlando woke startled and clutching for his notebook. The look of confusion and fear in Orlando’s eyes stopped Viggo short. Realizing what it must look like to the sleep bewildered young man, he crouched next to the bed to be at Orlando’s eye level.
“Hey, it’s okay. I saw the light on and I thought you might not want to wake up with an ink mustache so I was going to put your pen and book on the bedside table and turn off the light for you.” He gave Orlando a small shrug and smile. The young man sat up, blinked a few times and clutched the notebook to his chest. “I… you… I must have fallen asleep.” Orlando tried to remember what he had written, tried to figure out what Viggo might have seen.
Seeing Orlando struggle he explained. “Orlando, I didn’t read it. I wouldn’t do that, I only moved it, I promise.” Orlando stared at Viggo as if searching for something, after a moment he nodded and carefully put the book beside him on the bed. “Orlando, are you okay?” The younger man stared at him for a moment longer before breaking into a wry grin. “Seems like we’re falling into a familiar pattern; I over react to something, you ask me if I’m okay, I say I am…” Orlando’s voice hitched and trailed off.
Viggo rose from his crouch and sat on the edge of the bed, resisting the urge to gather Orlando into his arms. He looked so young, and scared and alone. “This is weird, I know. I just sat downstairs for I don’t know how long thinking how completely different seeing you, having you here, was from anything I imagined it would be. I don’t want to presume to know what you’re thinking or feeling but hell, I know it’s weird for me so… I’m guessing it’s a little weird for you too?” Viggo concentrated on the pattern of the duvet, hoping that Orlando would accept his words for what they were; an attempt to reach out.
After another silence Orlando grinned. “I thought I was the one who was supposed to babble…” Startled by the mirth in his voice, Viggo looked up, and saw the full strength, Orlando, mega-watt smile and he thought the room had gotten a little brighter, and he smiled back.
“I don’t know what I expected… I know things are different… I guess I just wanted for tonight to be good, for both of us.”
“Vig, you don’t owe me anything. I’m the one who owes you so much. Being here is… well it’s going to be a challenge for both of us. We’ll just take our time, yeah?” He said with more confidence than he felt.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. When did you get so wise?”
“You’d be amazed what three months of art therapy will do to you…” Orlando cracked.
“Art therapy? You had art therapy?” Viggo asked in amusement.
“It’s the real reason I wanted to come here. I covet your studio… think I want to start a new career.”
“My studio is your studio. I draw the line at string cheese art or anything to do with blowtorches and things that melt.”
“Ah, there goes my new career then.”
“Were you going to go with the cheese art or the melty thing?”
“You’re crazy you know that, right? How did I not know that you were crazy?” Orlando shook his head and grinned, Viggo just shrugged and the two stared at each other, enjoying the moment.
“I missed this. I missed you.” Viggo added softly.
“Me too.” The moment stretched as each man remembered how comfortable they could be with one another. After a time Viggo spoke.
“Orli… earlier, what happened? What upset you?”
“Vig, let’s not talk about that now, okay. Some things will just need time and that’s one of them.” Viggo nodded in agreement.
“Sure. You’re okay then?”
Orlando thought how he wanted to answer that. He had lied once already and it had weighed heavily on him. “I lied.” He blurted. “Before… downstairs, when I told you I was fine, I lied.”
Viggo looked at him quizzically. “Orli, you didn’t lie, you were just… protecting yourself. I understand that.”
“No Vig. Don’t. When I came here I told myself that above all else I would be honest with you. I didn’t even make through the first evening before I stood before you and lied. This book, this is my journal; my lifeline to truth. I came up here to try and sort out my thoughts and feelings and to understand.” Orlando’s words were coming out in a rush, as if he didn’t say them now he might never say them. “I was so worried about disappointing you that I forgot momentarily not to disappoint myself. Vig, there are going to be times when you ask me how I am or what I’m thinking and I just won’t be able to tell you. I’m still sorting things out for myself and some things I’m just not ready to share, yeah? I should have just been honest with you and said that I wasn’t ready to talk about it; instead of saying I was fine. I want to earn your trust back; I want it to mean something again.” Orli’s last few words quavered, as the emotion of the day caught up to him and crept into his voice.
“Hey… it’s okay Orli. We’ll get there.” Viggo reached up to give Orlando’s shoulder a squeeze, when he realized that perhaps putting his hand on Orlando’s naked skin might not be such a good idea. He let his hand drop, searching out the long slim fingers of the younger man. Orlando nodded mutely, afraid to speak as Viggo hand gently squeezed his own.
TBC
Chapter: 14/?
Author: Rocketbalm
Pairing: OB/VM
Rating: R for language
Summary: A very quiet renunion.
Word Count: This Chapter: 5,218 Total 74,421
Content/warnings: AU, mild angst
X-Posted: Mirrormere, VOLA,
vigorli and My LJ http://www.livejournal.com/users/rocketbalm/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.
Chapter 14
Even though there were still a few hours of daylight left, the sun was almost at the point where it would begin to slip behind the mountains; painting the landscape with broad brush strokes of it’s golden hue. Viggo sat on his front porch, quietly drinking his tea. Orlando’s voice mail had not been specific as to when exactly he’d be arriving; just that his plane was arriving in Vancouver at 2:20 PM and he’d make his way to Whistler from there, arriving sometime late afternoon or early evening.
Viggo found his tea calming, as a tempest of emotions roiled through his body. He knew that putting a wall between his heart and Orlando would be difficult; yet with the memory of hurting one another still fresh, it seemed like a good idea. Orlando’s letter made it clear that he was looking for nothing more than friendship and Viggo would honour that. So he sat and he waited, not knowing what to expect, unsure what to say, and taking comfort in the serenity of his surroundings, broken only by the shrill cry of a whiskeyjack.
As the sun caressed the tallest peaks of the Tantalus range, it set the trees on fire in its light, and Viggo was mesmerized by nature’s creative whimsy, never tiring of its beauty. He didn’t notice the taxi pull quietly up, nor did he notice the young man step out; one large case with him, another, much smaller, courier type bag, slung across his shoulders. Viggo didn’t notice anything until he heard the soft click of the car-door close and the cab drive away leaving the young man standing at the bottom of the long drive, burnished by molten light; afire like a phoenix from the ashes. They looked at each other for a long minute, neither dared to move, until the younger of the two, slowly bent down and lifted the heavy case and made his way up to the house.
Standing in front of Viggo, Orlando set his bag on the first step of the wrap-around deck, nervously brushing the hair from his eyes. “Hey.” Was all Orlando could manage, worrying that his voice would break and his nerves would snap soon after. Viggo drank in the vision before him, quenching the thirst that had plagued him from the moment they parted. He nodded an acknowledgement and swallowed, hoping to moisten his parched throat before speaking. “You look good… healthy.” He finally managed.
Orlando flushed slightly at the compliment. “You too. I mean you always looked healthy, you just look… I don’t know, good. Yeah? Content maybe? Not that you weren’t…” realizing he was babbling he let the sentence fade into the early evening light. Viggo gave him a small smile. “You hungry? I didn’t know if you’d eat on the plane or on the way up so I waited.”
Orlando looked down at his feet. “I’m not sure if I could eat. I was too nervous on the plane and now…” Before he could finish, his stomach rumbled and gurgled as if wanting it’s opinion known.
Viggo smiled again. “I guess that answered the question for you. I’ve got some fish to grill and you can help with the salad. That work for you?”
Orlando gave him a tight nod. “Sure.”
The two men entered the house and Orlando realized he had been holding his breath. It was just as he had remembered – better even. He let the feeling of safety and comfort surround him until he was able to breathe again.
“I didn’t know if you’d want a room with a door this time so I cleaned out the downstairs guest room for you, but the loft is yours if you want it. Your choice.”
“The loft is great, Viggo. That is if you don’t mind. It’s all I’ve thought about since you agreed to let me come.”
“The loft it is then. You know where it is, so I’ll meet you in the kitchen when you’re settled.” With that he left the younger man standing in the foyer, wondering if Orlando’s heart was pounding as hard as his own.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Orlando made his way downstairs to the kitchen where he found the makings for a salad laid out on the counter, a pot of rice cooking on the stove, otherwise the kitchen was empty. He glanced covertly around until his eye caught Viggo standing outside by the grill staring into the fading summer’s eve light. He smiled as he admired Viggo’s silhouette. The months apart had done nothing to diminish his attraction to the older man -- Viggo’s skin burnished by hours of being outdoors, tawny hair streaked by the sun and his body toned and fit – everything he remembered and longed for.
With a sigh, Orlando washed his hands and carefully began to prepare a salad, peeling, chopping, cutting, setting a calming rhythm, trying to settle his nerves. Seeing Viggo again, being here, felt so right. Orlando’s emotions were so close to the surface, the routine of making a salad was enough to keep them from overwhelming him. He knew what came next. He’d done it several times in the week since he’d left recovery; each was difficult in its own way. Making amends to Viggo would be no less challenging.
Orlando carefully washed each lettuce leaf as he remembered the past week. Orlando was grateful that Sean was first; he had approached Sean during the drive back to London when he was released. Sean, as always, was gracious and forgiving; their conversation full of tears and memories both good and bad. In the end they had pulled off the road and walked through a field, enjoying a togetherness they once thought had been lost to them forever.
His Mum and Sam were next, both smothering him with kindness as he fought off their interruptions to get through everything he needed to say. When he was done, they smiled fondly at him and he wasn’t at all sure they had heard a word he said. The rest of the afternoon was spent listening to their praise and well meaning encouragement. His therapist had prepared him for peoples differing reactions and he knew that so far, he had been fortunate. He also knew that he couldn’t control the responses of others and come what may, his responsibility was to make an amend, make a change, not necessarily an apology but a discussion or action that was intended to clear up issues from the past. The rest was out of his hands. Some would be gracious as Sean was, others would pretend nothing had happened and everything was fine, still others would be angry and not accept his efforts easily.
Meeting with Dom and Elijah had made him so tense that he was shot-gunning herbal tea in an effort to relax. Sitting at their kitchen table, Elijah’s anger had been bubbling just below the surface as he obviously tried to keep himself in check. Orlando had figured he was under orders from Dom to be nice. Elijah was hyper-kinetic, vibrating with undiffused energy, fidgeting and Dom was trying his best to downplay any wrongdoing on Orlando’s part. That it was Elijah that was most angry surprised Orlando and he had to swallow several times before he could begin. Once he hit his stride, he was able to get through most of what he wanted to say before Elijah pushed his chair back from the table and left the room. The remaining two men sat frozen, unsure what just happened. Dom had recovered first and had reached for Orlando’s arm, telling him that Elijah would need a little time but that he would come around. They talked for a good half hour about Elijah’s resentment and how he was mostly furious at the unfair words that had been directed at Dom. Sweet, gentle, often sarcastic Elijah was angry. Not just angry but seething. It seemed that the gentle exterior once breached was daunting to try and mend. It had hurt Orlando to know he had caused his friends such pain and strife, and though there were still many fences to mend between them, he felt relieved that he had been given the opportunity to meet with them. He would continue to reach out to Elijah and hoped that in time they would get past this.
Orlando continued to wash and chop, watching Viggo through the window. Despite the relatively painless reception he’d received, he knew that things were far from settled and, while he believed in his heart that Viggo would not be spiteful with him, the possibility of cold indifference to his words, was not a welcome thought.
He wondered what Viggo was thinking, he had been standing so still out on the deck, bracing his arms on the railing as he looked across the valley. Sean had given him no clue as to what they might have talked about or where Viggo’s head was at, only that Viggo knew he had been at a recovery centre. Orlando’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he remembered his own cruel words that last time they had spoken. His misguided belief that Viggo didn’t know what physical pain was and how he had unknowingly belittle the other man’s experience. Not for the first time Orlando wondered if he would be forgiving of someone who had acted so uncaring and cavalier about what had happened to him.
The timer on the stove began to beep. Instinctively knowing that the rice was done, Orlando turned off the stove and removed the pot from the burner, smiling at how in tune the two of them had always been -- in the kitchen at least. He turned back to the array of veggies he’d prepped and saw Viggo watching him through the glass. Tentatively he raised his hand with a smile. Viggo nodded in response and turned back to the grill. Orlando sighed as he realized that soon he’d would have to bare his soul to the one person whose opinion mattered more than he cared to examine.
The French doors to the deck opened softly as Viggo entered carrying the grilled fish on a platter. The two worked quietly side by side, putting the salad together before lading their plates with food and sitting at the huge trestle table to eat. The meal was a quiet one, neither man ready to explore the others thoughts quite yet, each reacquainting themselves with the others presence. Finally Viggo broke the silence. “Brian wanted to come by tonight, but I thought I’d leave it to you as to when you wanted to see him.”
“Thanks… I’ll make sure to do that. Maybe in a day or two, yeah?” Orlando finished the last of his fish and quietly set his utensils down. He felt that his moment had come. Carefully he wiped his mouth with his serviette and whetted his suddenly dry mouth with a sip of water. “Viggo, I wanted to talk to you about…”
Before he could get the first sentence out Viggo raised his hand in a motion to stop. Orlando faltered and trailed off as he looked at the older man in confusion.
“Orlando, we’re going to be under the same roof for the foreseeable future, I don’t think we need to rehash everything the moment you get here. I know that we have a lot to talk about, that you have amends you feel you need to make, but let’s take it bit by bit… okay? Talk about things as they come up and not force a discussion that neither of us wants to have right now.” Viggo looked down at his meal and moved the last few vegetables in an pattern that only he could decipher.
“Uh… Okay.” Orlando stammered not really knowing what to make of what had just happened but grateful that this ‘homecoming’ memory wouldn’t be tarnished with what was sure to be a difficult conversation. Not knowing what else to do he rose to start clearing the table.
“Orlando, wait.” Viggo motioned for Orlando to take his seat again. “There are a few things I would like to… say.” Viggo cleared his throat, not entirely comfortable with where he was going to take the conversation. “While you’re here, I thought that it would be good to set a few house rules. First and foremost you are to be clean and sober. I know from Sean that drinking isn’t an issue for your recovery but I would prefer that while you are here you don’t get *drunk*. A glass of wine or a beer now and then, I’m not worried about – it’s getting drunk I’d prefer you avoid.” Orlando nodded; his face red with embarrassment. “Secondly, we’ll share the chores, cooking either together or alternating evenings, whatever works. Astrid still comes on Tuesdays, so all your laundry needs to be in the laundry room that morning. I’d appreciate if you kept the loft and bathroom relatively tidy, I don’t want to have her take on more work than necessary. The shopping we can work out, whether we do it together, take turns or pick up things as they’re needed… If you’re going to be home later than 11 PM leave me a note or give me a call. I’m not trying to check up on you, I’ll just worry otherwise. And lastly, no over-night guests.” Viggo paused for a moment as if taking a mental inventory. “That’s it I think. All right?”
Orlando stood with his mouth agape, taken aback at what he heard. When Viggo finished and looked up at him, Orlando recovered quickly and nodded in agreement murmuring, “Yes… fine,” before he rose again and began to clear the table. He was barely in the kitchen before his throat grew tight as his eyes welled up with tears. Careful to keep his back to Viggo, Orlando filled the sink with water as he sorted out what had just been said. It wasn’t that Viggo had rules that upset him – *that* he had been prepared for, it was some of the rules and what they implied. First, Orlando couldn’t imagine being out past 11 PM unless he was with Viggo. He wasn’t here to party, he was here to fulfill his obligation, to give back to the town and, above all, to make amends to Viggo. Secondly, over-night guests… How could Viggo even think he’d *want* to pick anyone up, let alone bring them back here? Did he really think so little of him? Obviously he did; obviously being just friends wasn’t going to be an issue for Viggo. Feeling a tear escape he blinked rapidly trying to stem the tide as he mopped up the traitorous defector on his shirt sleeve, before he realized that Viggo was talking to him.
Realizing that Orlando hadn’t heard him and had in fact, been incredibly quiet since the ‘House Rules’ chat. Walking up behind Orlando, Viggo placed a hand gently on the younger man’s shoulder, “Orli?” Orlando didn’t turn around and not trusting his voice and answered with an ‘umhmm’. Viggo knew then that something was not quite right. “Orli… what’s wrong?”
Orlando took a deep breath and did the only thing he could do, the last thing he wanted to do, the one thing he had promised himself he wouldn’t do. He lied. “Wrong? Nothing, I’m just… uh… tired. From the flight and the drive and everything. I think I… um… just need to upstairs and sleep, yeah? Viggo watched as Orlando wiped his hands on a dishtowel, careful not to look at the older man. Viggo could tell that it wasn’t that easy, that Orlando wasn’t telling him something. For now he would let him keep his secrets. “Okay Orli, let me finish up here and you head up… I’ll see you in the morning then.”
“Thanks Vig, I’m sure I’ll be feeling better tomorrow, yeah? A rest will do me good.” Both men stood staring at each other awkwardly, not knowing what to do next. After a moment, Viggo reached up and gave Orlando’s shoulder a squeeze. “Good night Orlando. I’m glad you came.”
Orlando shuffled his feet and looked at Viggo shyly from beneath a stray lock of hair. “Good night Vig, and thanks.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Viggo finished up in the kitchen, opened a beer and sat down in his favourite chair to think. The day had been surreal -- not at all as he had imagined. So much had changed since they last saw each other and yet so much remained the same. Viggo’s head and heart were still war with each other -- both had made equally impassioned pleas, though so far Viggo had listened to his head and let his heart yearn for something more. The last few months had been quite a journey.
For several weeks he had wallowed in sorrow and self-pity, feeling an acute sense of loss yet not really understanding what it was he had lost. More than anything he was amazed at how much the young man had come to mean to him in just under a week. Viggo would replay the memories they shared endlessly, searching each moment for deeper insight and cringing at the hints of truth he found in Orlando’s words when he had lashed out. None wounded him more so than: I don’t need you to stand in front of me, clad in your self-righteousness and tell me how to live my life when your living with all these walls, so afraid to let anyone close, that at this rate, you’re going to die a lonely old man.
He had always enjoyed his solitude, reveling in it. When he had found James, Viggo had turned his life upside down to accommodate his lover – trying to prove to them both that it was what he wanted. After the trial, Viggo had been content to go back to a solitary life, filling his time with art and the closeness of friends. Orlando had changed all that. Somehow in a week, he had shown Viggo that he didn’t want to be alone. Whether it was sharing the mundane moments in each day, cooking, reading, watching the news; sharing the fun of a day out or arguing – Viggo wanted all of it. He wanted to come home to the same someone every day. He wanted to laugh or cry while watching a movie with someone; he wanted to debate politics and lament societal failings; he yearned to just sit, reading a book, sharing a moving passage or poignant moment – he realized that being alone was just not enough anymore.
After many heated discussions with Brian, he finally agreed to start dating again. It was a painful experience. He had never been good at dating in college and now all his quirks and oddities seemed magnified. He suffered through the embarrassment and false starts, determined to move forward and on some level he wanted to prove Orlando wrong. The few dates he had gone on, while not disasters, were less than satisfactory to either party. On more than one occasion Viggo found himself comparing his dates to Orlando which was completely unfair to his unsuspecting companion. It wasn’t until one tactile young man had pushed Viggo’s limits of personal space and leaned in for a kiss, that he realized that dating was going to be hopeless; Orlando still too fresh in his mind, his body rejecting the idea of anyone else. Getting Orlando out of his head was proving to be almost impossible.
During that time Sean had been calling to discuss getting Orlando into recovery, not realizing how hard it was for Viggo to be constantly talking about the one person he was trying to let go of. Sean was grateful for Viggo’s support whenever he doubted that he was doing the right thing. While it was difficult to talk about Orlando it also gave Viggo a sense of peace and hope that the beautiful young man would find the help he needed. When Orlando finished therapy Viggo was sure that he would be distant memory or at least put firmly into a supporting role. After all, once healed, Orlando would have the world at his fingertips; it wasn’t likely that Viggo would be the one he’d want to share that with.
He had been prepared to receive Orlando’s note, Sean had told him to expect it. He felt the bittersweet sting of being right, when he read that Orlando wanted nothing more than friendship from him. When he wrote his response he was deliberately short and to the point, partly to protect his already bruised heart and partly because more than anything he knew it wouldn’t be fair to push his feelings onto the younger man in light of what he had written. Even if he could sway Orlando to give them a chance, it was completely out of the question to get involved with someone going through recovery. It wouldn’t be fair to Orlando and it would be fair to him. He had read a lot about addiction and recovery during the past few months, and one thing he did learn was that people in recovery often traded their addiction for a different kind of crutch – an attraction to someone supportive in their recovery. More than anything Viggo had to give Orlando every opportunity for independence and that meant keeping his own desires in check.
He hadn’t known exactly what to expect when he saw Orlando again after five months but he had been quite certain that his own response would be measured and slightly distant; he certainly hadn’t expected the strong emotions that had washed over him when he saw the glowing figure at the bottom of the drive. His heart practically leapt from his chest; his body hummed with excitement, feeling the connection that had been between them; his soul sang as it recognized the kindred spirit. Not at all the slightly detached version of himself he had prepared to portray. He had been grateful for the tea in his hand at the time or he was sure he would have gathered the young man in his arms and held on and never let go.
It was only after Orlando had gone upstairs to stow his things, that Viggo was able to stop his heart from pounding and reign in his emotions. Over the last few weeks he had thought long and hard about having Orlando stay at the house. It was important that he set some ground rules and give the arrangement some structure right from the start. He toyed with the idea of requesting no overnight guests but it wasn’t until he actually saw Orlando and his reaction to him that he made up his mind. It would be hard enough if Orlando decided to date while he was here; it would be impossible if he brought home potential lovers. The thought made Viggo physically ill. It was then that Viggo realized that while his intent for nothing more than friendship remained, his heart was still very much engaged.
Orlando’s reaction to the house rules had surprised him. For some reason something he had said had upset the young man. Viggo could only imagine how hard it would be living under someone else’s rules after being free to do whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted. He had assumed that coming out of recovery where the rules were much more stringent, that his house rules would be easy in comparison. Maybe Orlando had the perception that he wasn’t trusted. Viggo sighed. They would have to figure out how to be with one another again, regain the easy togetherness that they once shared.
Viggo sat lost in his own thoughts until his beer was warm in his hand. Glancing up, he noticed that the light in the loft was still on. Perhaps Orlando was having the same difficulty sorting out his own thoughts. Viggo wondered if he should go up and see if he could help, maybe they would be able to laugh at their awkwardness and move forward.
Pouring the warm beer down the sink he turned off the downstairs lights and made his way past his own bedroom, letting his feet take him up to the loft. He hesitated, questioning whether he should just turn around and go back down or if Orlando had heard him; he needn’t have worried. His hand on the dividing wall he stepped quietly into the dimly lit loft, whispering “Orlando?”. The sight before sent his heart into overdrive. In the soft glow of the bedside lamp, Orlando lay fast asleep, his hand curled loosely around a pen, his face pressed against a spiral bound notebook, dark lashes feathered softly against his cheek. His curls a dark halo in contrast to the creamy smoothness of the sheets, his bare upper torso, tanned and sleek to where the duvet covered him. Viggo listened to the gentle sound of Orlando’s breathing trying to match his own heartbeat to the slow rhythm filling the room.
Viggo stood there just watching, memorizing each detail, not to paint or sketch but to cherish the image and turn it over in his mind at his leisure. Reluctantly he moved toward the bed, not wanting to disturb the sleeping figure. Carefully Viggo removed the pen from the inert form and gently began to slide the book from beneath the fan of dark lashes, when Orlando woke startled and clutching for his notebook. The look of confusion and fear in Orlando’s eyes stopped Viggo short. Realizing what it must look like to the sleep bewildered young man, he crouched next to the bed to be at Orlando’s eye level.
“Hey, it’s okay. I saw the light on and I thought you might not want to wake up with an ink mustache so I was going to put your pen and book on the bedside table and turn off the light for you.” He gave Orlando a small shrug and smile. The young man sat up, blinked a few times and clutched the notebook to his chest. “I… you… I must have fallen asleep.” Orlando tried to remember what he had written, tried to figure out what Viggo might have seen.
Seeing Orlando struggle he explained. “Orlando, I didn’t read it. I wouldn’t do that, I only moved it, I promise.” Orlando stared at Viggo as if searching for something, after a moment he nodded and carefully put the book beside him on the bed. “Orlando, are you okay?” The younger man stared at him for a moment longer before breaking into a wry grin. “Seems like we’re falling into a familiar pattern; I over react to something, you ask me if I’m okay, I say I am…” Orlando’s voice hitched and trailed off.
Viggo rose from his crouch and sat on the edge of the bed, resisting the urge to gather Orlando into his arms. He looked so young, and scared and alone. “This is weird, I know. I just sat downstairs for I don’t know how long thinking how completely different seeing you, having you here, was from anything I imagined it would be. I don’t want to presume to know what you’re thinking or feeling but hell, I know it’s weird for me so… I’m guessing it’s a little weird for you too?” Viggo concentrated on the pattern of the duvet, hoping that Orlando would accept his words for what they were; an attempt to reach out.
After another silence Orlando grinned. “I thought I was the one who was supposed to babble…” Startled by the mirth in his voice, Viggo looked up, and saw the full strength, Orlando, mega-watt smile and he thought the room had gotten a little brighter, and he smiled back.
“I don’t know what I expected… I know things are different… I guess I just wanted for tonight to be good, for both of us.”
“Vig, you don’t owe me anything. I’m the one who owes you so much. Being here is… well it’s going to be a challenge for both of us. We’ll just take our time, yeah?” He said with more confidence than he felt.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. When did you get so wise?”
“You’d be amazed what three months of art therapy will do to you…” Orlando cracked.
“Art therapy? You had art therapy?” Viggo asked in amusement.
“It’s the real reason I wanted to come here. I covet your studio… think I want to start a new career.”
“My studio is your studio. I draw the line at string cheese art or anything to do with blowtorches and things that melt.”
“Ah, there goes my new career then.”
“Were you going to go with the cheese art or the melty thing?”
“You’re crazy you know that, right? How did I not know that you were crazy?” Orlando shook his head and grinned, Viggo just shrugged and the two stared at each other, enjoying the moment.
“I missed this. I missed you.” Viggo added softly.
“Me too.” The moment stretched as each man remembered how comfortable they could be with one another. After a time Viggo spoke.
“Orli… earlier, what happened? What upset you?”
“Vig, let’s not talk about that now, okay. Some things will just need time and that’s one of them.” Viggo nodded in agreement.
“Sure. You’re okay then?”
Orlando thought how he wanted to answer that. He had lied once already and it had weighed heavily on him. “I lied.” He blurted. “Before… downstairs, when I told you I was fine, I lied.”
Viggo looked at him quizzically. “Orli, you didn’t lie, you were just… protecting yourself. I understand that.”
“No Vig. Don’t. When I came here I told myself that above all else I would be honest with you. I didn’t even make through the first evening before I stood before you and lied. This book, this is my journal; my lifeline to truth. I came up here to try and sort out my thoughts and feelings and to understand.” Orlando’s words were coming out in a rush, as if he didn’t say them now he might never say them. “I was so worried about disappointing you that I forgot momentarily not to disappoint myself. Vig, there are going to be times when you ask me how I am or what I’m thinking and I just won’t be able to tell you. I’m still sorting things out for myself and some things I’m just not ready to share, yeah? I should have just been honest with you and said that I wasn’t ready to talk about it; instead of saying I was fine. I want to earn your trust back; I want it to mean something again.” Orli’s last few words quavered, as the emotion of the day caught up to him and crept into his voice.
“Hey… it’s okay Orli. We’ll get there.” Viggo reached up to give Orlando’s shoulder a squeeze, when he realized that perhaps putting his hand on Orlando’s naked skin might not be such a good idea. He let his hand drop, searching out the long slim fingers of the younger man. Orlando nodded mutely, afraid to speak as Viggo hand gently squeezed his own.
TBC
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Date: 2005-10-05 05:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-06 04:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-05 08:46 am (UTC)He wanted to come home to the same someone every day. He wanted to laugh or cry while watching a movie with someone . When I read this part, Michael Buble was on the radio with the song Home , just perfect ;-)
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Date: 2005-10-06 04:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-05 08:58 am (UTC)Thanks so much for sharing.
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Date: 2005-10-06 04:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-05 09:41 am (UTC)is there a light at the end of the tunnel?
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Date: 2005-10-06 04:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-05 01:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-06 04:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-06 12:12 am (UTC)Great chapter. I totally appreciate you writing this for us!!!!
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Date: 2005-10-06 04:11 am (UTC)