My Confession 10/?

[zebraljb.livejournal.com]

author: zebraljb
rating: up to nc17
disclaimer: I know them not. I really hope Orli's head isn't up his ass, as it has been in this made up story.



MY CONFESSION
Ten


“What the hell was I thinking?” Orlando surveyed the disaster that was the master bedroom in the country house.

He wasn’t looking at his wardrobe. That was satisfactory. He enjoyed the unique quality of his clothing. He was looking at the furniture, paintings, sculptures, pottery and other accessories that normally decorated the room. At the moment, as much of it as possible was stacked on the large bed. The bed was the only thing he liked. For a long moment, he closed his eyes and imagined Viggo’s body pressing him down onto its soft mattress. He groaned and opened his eyes.

“It’s all going to go,” he declared out loud. “Everything except the bed. And maybe the blue vase.” He went to the sitting room and called out the door. “Emily?”

A middle-aged woman came hurrying down the hall. “Yes, Mr. Bloom?”

Orlando noticed her haste and sighed. He knew he could be a grade-A dickhead a lot of the time, and apparently he had done a lot of it in this house. “Emily, do you know someone who could help me move some things?”

“Of course, Mr. Bloom. My brother has a van and does jobs such as that.”

“Excellent.” He rubbed at his forehead. “Everything on the bed. It’s gone.”

“What…what do you want done with it?”

“I really could care less. You can keep it. You can sell it and keep the money. No, wait.” He walked back into the bedroom with Emily on his heels. He plucked the blue vase off the bed and set it on the floor. “Did I hear you say something about a fundraiser for the school?”

“Yes, Mr. Bloom. During the last storm the library flooded, destroying almost all the books.”

“Find a way to sell all this, and give the money to the school.”

“Mr. Bloom!” Emily gasped. “We can’t…”

“Do it,” he growled. She bobbed a curtsey and fled the room. He grinned. Sometimes being a dickhead had its privileges. His cellphone rang and he retrieved it from his pocket. He didn’t recognize the number. “Bloom here.”

“What the fuck is all this stuff?”

Orlando grinned nervously and went back out to plop on the sofa of his sitting room. “Hi, Elijah.”

“What is it?”

“If I remember correctly, it’s cds, video games, cigarettes, and liquor.”

“And flowers.”

“Ah, yes. Flowers.” Orlando bit at his bottom lip.

“What the hell are you trying to do?”

“Buy your friendship?”

“What?”

“Just kidding. I know I can’t do that…hell, you’ve been saving money since the womb. I knew it would get you to at least call me.”

“You’re right,” Elijah grumbled. “What do you want, Orlando?”

“To apologize. Most of what you said was right on target, and coming from you…it hurt the most. You know me best of all of them, Elijah, and hearing you say what I knew deep down as true kicked me where it counts.” Oralndo sighed. “I reacted badly and I wanted to apologize. I’ve already apologized to Eric Bana, Beanie, Dom and Billy.”

“And now I’m supposed to just jump for joy, give you a tender embrace, take your hand and go running through a meadow with you?”

Orlando had to smile. He could imagine Elijah standing, wherever he was, arms crossed over his chest as he dipped his head to look up from under his bangs. It was the only way Elijah ever manage to look remotely sinister. “Well, I’m not so much about the meadow, though there’s a nice one out my bedroom window.” He heard Elijah snort. “I just want to hear you say you forgive me, or that you might THINK about forgiving me. I was a pompous arse, though you might possibly owe me an apology as well.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you, prick!” Orlando yelled, anger getting the best of him. “If I remember correctly, you called me a dick and a bitch, among other colorful names.”

“You deserved it. You admitted that.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t mean you had to say it. You said some pretty nasty things to me, Elijah.”

“So?” Elijah grumbled, but Orlando knew he was admitting it as well. “Okay, maybe I was as much of a prick as you that night. But only that night,” he added quickly.

“I forgive you,” Orlando said softly. The line buzzed for a moment.

“I forgive you,” Elijah repeated. “I fucking miss you, Orli.”

“I miss you, too, Elijah, and I miss me.” Orlando fell back onto the sofa, feeling more of that tense weight drift from his shoulders. “I’m trying, ‘Lij.”

“I know you are. Billy and Dom told me you called. That was big of you.”

Orlando knew that Elijah was being sincere. “I’m going back, little by little, and rebuilding those bridges. They were burned to the ground.”

“How many are left?”

“Just…one. But that one…I may just have to put up a memorial and move to another road.” Orlando sighed as he thought about the last words he had exchanged with Viggo.

“I’m sorry,” Elijah said. “So…why flowers?”

Orlando laughed. “I figured if nothing else, they’d make you smile.”

“It worked. Look, I’m getting ready to do an interview. I have to go. But hey, I’ll be coming through London on my way to Berlin in a few weeks. How about I crash with you for a few days. Will you be there?”

“Oh, man, that’d be great. Maybe you could pick up Dom or Billy or someone, if they’re done in the States.” Delight washed through Orlando. “Oh, God, Elijah, that sounds fantastic.”

“Good. I’ll call you.”

“I can’t wait.” Orlando hung up, a dizzying smile on his face.


Orlando spent the following days totally redoing his house. He threw out things that he didn’t even remember buying, then realized that he had given the expensive interior decorator a free hand in buying what she wanted. Most of it, he realized, looked good in the house but did not represent him in any way, shape or form. Soon the house began to look like a home, and he felt more comfortable in it. The people who worked in the house still seemed afraid of them, but at least they no longer jumped when he walked through the house.

He went down to the kitchen, grabbed an apple, and munched it as he headed back up to the large den. Emily was dusting the mantle above the fireplace. “Something came to you today, Mr. Bloom. Deliveryman said it was shipped from Mr. Bana’s suite in London?”

“Oh.” The piece of apple in Orlando’s throat seemed to hinder his breathing as he looked at the large parcel wrapped in brown paper. It leaned against the wall, looking large and innocent. Orlando didn’t know if he wanted to hug it or burn it. “Th-thank you, Emily. Could you have someone take it up to my suite, when they have time?”

“Of course, Mr. Bloom. Are you all right? You look pale, suddenly.”

“I’m fine.” He tossed his apple core in the nearest trash bin. “I’m going out for a walk. I’ll leave my phone with you; if anyone calls please take a message.”

“Very well.” She stared at him as he strode out of the room.

Orlando walked for over an hour, thoughts of Viggo and paint and memories of everything rushing through his mind. He knew he had to at least apologize to Viggo, try to give whatever they had some sort of closure. Eric had been closer to the truth than he thought when he had mentioned Orlando’s feelings for Viggo. Orlando HAD fallen in love with him during the filming in New Zealand. He wanted nothing more than to stay with Viggo forever. But he had been scared. He was slightly worried about Viggo’s career; Viggo always played the strong sensuous man, and most people did not see a gay man as anything like that. His own career had mattered more, and like Viggo had said, he absolutely could not imagine being a star AND being out of the closet. He had taken the child’s way out, dropping his plaything in favor of something better.

“Fucking git,” Orlando muttered to himself as he climbed back up to the house.

“Mr. Bloom.” Emily held the door for him. “Mr. Wood called, giving the times and flight numbers for himself, a Mr. Boyd, and a Mr. Monaghan. He also said to tell you not to prepare a room for Mr. Boyd, as Mr. Wood would probably kill him before they set down at Heathrow.” A smile twitched at her lips, broadening into a true grin as Orlando’s face lit up.

“Prepare three guestrooms…in case they all make it here alive.”