Remembrances
Jan. 5th, 2006 03:28 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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vigorliTitle: Remembrances
Category: VM/OB RPS
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Remembrances of previous days, love, and what’s important in life.
Previous Chapters:
1: Waiting for Inspiration
2: Settling
3: Four and A Half
4: Six Years
5: Simply Holding
6: Adjusting
7: The Days Without
Author’s Note: Mostly written in a Starbucks in Christchurch. This chapter isn’t really about anything, I just typed what came to me.
I lay awake staring, my arms around his slumbering body, better, more comfortable, more soothing than any blanket though heavy and awkward. But he did not see it that way, did not think my hands rough but perfect as they were. He loved the texture, the coarseness that gentled my touch even more than usual sometimes as not to mar his near flawless skin. What thoughts stirred me from my sleep this night I did not know, I just lay staring through the parted curtains and to pitch dark night. Now my musing retreated years to the months spent in New Zealand, the days when we first met, days when I still hadn’t found my place amongst the cast. From Wellington to Queenstown and back again, over various mountain ranges that the Hobbits didn’t bother to learn the Maori names for, long and difficult to pronounce from those who didn’t need to know a foreign language.
Queenstown, and odd town full of hotels, pubs, and adventure shops. We mocked that without the tourists, there’d only be four people left in the town and even then, they probably just lived in rented apartments. Yet it did not lack in beauty, the lake and the mountains did not lack for providing inspiration, I declining the notion of drinking alcohol from teapots to walk around the lake. Peter had jokingly, but not completely lacking seriousness had warned me to not attempt to walk all the way around the lake because it would take me about four days, though I presumed more than that with the way the sun was now disappearing behind the peaks now coined The Misty Mountains.
My eyes were drawn downwards as still I contemplated when Orli shifted upon his back, his fingers curling around mine as he held my hand to the center of his chest, still sleeping soundly. That night in front of the lake, Orli had been the one who found me, camera around my neck, notebook in one hand and pen in the other.
His hands were stuffed down into his jeans that pooled over his well-worn sneakers, belt hidden by the tail of his T-shirt, causal dress inevitably becoming the norm in this country. Though I had turned to face him, he had approached slowly as if fearing disturbing me, but I could see the curiosity upon his features and that open nature of his that anyone could immediately recognize. Previously I had been struck by his youthfulness, that ridiculous Mohawk seeming to suit him at that moment and did nothing to detract from his true age. He said nothing, but only sat on the grass not far from me, leaning back on his hands and waited for me to finish what I had been scribbling down.
I folded up the notebook after a moment and moved to sit next to him, sitting cross-legged while his slender legs were spread out before him. “Being away from home didn’t really hit me until Cathy handed me the keys to the house the studio is renting for me. I realized I’ve left behind everything that I’ve known, my family and my friends for the next year and a half,” he began his voice soft as he looked out to the lake. “But then, spending time with the lads, Beanie, and even John and Ian, that they’re going to be my family for the next eighteen months. Then it didn’t feel so long a time, then I realized this is the greatest opportunity of my life and I was going to enjoy it.”
At the time I was surprised by his perceptiveness, but realized later that it was common for Orli to notice other’s moods despite the person’s acting ability. He saw straight through all of it. “I think Peter’s worrying just how much you’re going to enjoy it.”
The broad sweeping smile that I quickly came to adore spread across his face and lit his eyes. “You’re sworn to secrecy.”
I raised my hands, not wanting to be involved in whatever brought for that brief glean in his eyes. “I know nothing.”
“What are you thinking about?”
The sleepy voice disturbed my thoughts and drew my focus again, finding his barely parted brown eyes staring up at me in curiosity. “How we met,” I replied easily, “how I fell in love with you.”
He smiled faintly, bringing my hand to his lips so he could press a soft kiss to my knuckles. His breathing slowed again and I figured he had gone back to sleep, but instead of returning to my musings, I slid down in the bed next to him and rested my head upon his chest, listening to the relaxed cadence of his heart. “Never thought it would turn out this way,” he mumbled after several minutes. I agreed silently, rubbing my hand over the contoured plane of his stomach. “I don’t say that with regret, you know that, but of all the ways I pictured my life to turn out, I never thought that I would ever be lying here in your arms. I didn’t think your would be the house that I returned to at the end of the day, it’d be your family that I saw at Christmas or that I’d ever celebrate Thanksgiving.”
“Our,” I interjected out of impulse.
“What?”
I raised my head, looking him in the eye. “Our house,” I repeated.
“Our,” he echoed thoughtfully. “Do you realizes we have two houses, a ranch, and a flat between the two of us. I don’t even know where to send my mail anymore,” Orlando noted with some seriousness. I snorted in amusement and commiseration and then assumed my former position. “Don’t laugh, I’m serious. Looking for my coat in London, realized I left it at yours in Idaho.”
“And your scarf.”
“Just as well, I had to nick Sam’s.”
“Had to . . .”
“Had to,” Orli reasserted.
It wasn’t often that I spoke without thought, but this wasn’t one of the issues in my life that required any deliberation. “Live with me.” It came out more of a statement as I shifted to lie over him , my body resting almost completely against, our faces only a few inches apart. “In LA, I mean.”
“But you like my house.”
“I do,” I agreed thoughtfully, more rurally located than my house in the suburbs.
“Live with me, then, you can make that room off the kitchen into your studio.”
“That’s settled,” I replied, kissing his chin.
“If only all our dilemmas were so easy to fix,” Orlando mused tiredly, his eyes closing once more even as his hands came to roam over my back.
“Hopefully not all of them will happen at three o’clock in the morning,” I noted, slowly kissing his face over and over. “I’ll let you go back to sleep.”
“I don’t have to be anywhere tomorrow,” he murmured sleepily. “Or the day after that or the day after that . . .” He sighed contentedly at the prospect, his body relaxing even further as he fell back to sleep.
It was one of the few days in summer that it decided to rain in Idaho, destined to be one of those long slow rains that lasted all day. Orli was used to it and generally would do anything in the rain that he would do in sunshine, but I was of an entirely different mind, content just to stay indoors and read or paint. Sitting outside on the porch under the over hang of the roof was where he found me, book in hand with a cup of steaming coffee on the armrest. He stood in the doorway, looking as though he was ready to go back to sleep, blanket around his shoulders, hair still tousled with his own mug of coffee in hand, steaming in his face.
I glanced up at him, laughed, and shaking my head turned back to my book. “Go back to sleep, Orli,” I teased him, knowing he only drank coffee to keep him awake, while it was a daily requirement on my part.
“This is the first day we’ve been able to spend together in ages, Vig.”
My words died on my lips when I saw the sincerity in his eyes, despite the lightness of his tone. I rose, coffee and book in hand, kissing him soundly on the mouth, getting the taste of the cheap Hazelnut coffee that he preferred over the much richer and stronger stuff that I drank—black, no sugar. “Then we’ll spend in bed together, you sleeping until you’re fully rested. Maybe I’ll read, maybe I’ll just hold you like I haven’t been able to do for the past three months.”
A sadness flicked over his dark eyes and he hugged me impulsively, the blanket pooling around our bare feet. “I haven’t taken any more projects. I’ve missed you too much to leave for another four/five months.”
“Don’t, Orli. Not for me, this is what you love.”
“I know,” Orli breathed, holding me tighter. “I know, but I . . .” he trailed off, gathering his thoughts. My words always flowed better when I was particularly emotional, the product of being a consistent artist, I suppose. But Orli, it was difficult to get him to say anything at all once he became particularly angry or upset. “I love acting, I always have, but your not just someone I come home to at the end of the day, you’re my life, more than acting, more than anything.”
“You’ll always have me, your career; it’s at its peak, Orli. You know how fickle this job can be.”
“I do, but right now . . . I don’t care. I just want to be here.”
Category: VM/OB RPS
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Remembrances of previous days, love, and what’s important in life.
Previous Chapters:
1: Waiting for Inspiration
2: Settling
3: Four and A Half
4: Six Years
5: Simply Holding
6: Adjusting
7: The Days Without
Author’s Note: Mostly written in a Starbucks in Christchurch. This chapter isn’t really about anything, I just typed what came to me.
I lay awake staring, my arms around his slumbering body, better, more comfortable, more soothing than any blanket though heavy and awkward. But he did not see it that way, did not think my hands rough but perfect as they were. He loved the texture, the coarseness that gentled my touch even more than usual sometimes as not to mar his near flawless skin. What thoughts stirred me from my sleep this night I did not know, I just lay staring through the parted curtains and to pitch dark night. Now my musing retreated years to the months spent in New Zealand, the days when we first met, days when I still hadn’t found my place amongst the cast. From Wellington to Queenstown and back again, over various mountain ranges that the Hobbits didn’t bother to learn the Maori names for, long and difficult to pronounce from those who didn’t need to know a foreign language.
Queenstown, and odd town full of hotels, pubs, and adventure shops. We mocked that without the tourists, there’d only be four people left in the town and even then, they probably just lived in rented apartments. Yet it did not lack in beauty, the lake and the mountains did not lack for providing inspiration, I declining the notion of drinking alcohol from teapots to walk around the lake. Peter had jokingly, but not completely lacking seriousness had warned me to not attempt to walk all the way around the lake because it would take me about four days, though I presumed more than that with the way the sun was now disappearing behind the peaks now coined The Misty Mountains.
My eyes were drawn downwards as still I contemplated when Orli shifted upon his back, his fingers curling around mine as he held my hand to the center of his chest, still sleeping soundly. That night in front of the lake, Orli had been the one who found me, camera around my neck, notebook in one hand and pen in the other.
His hands were stuffed down into his jeans that pooled over his well-worn sneakers, belt hidden by the tail of his T-shirt, causal dress inevitably becoming the norm in this country. Though I had turned to face him, he had approached slowly as if fearing disturbing me, but I could see the curiosity upon his features and that open nature of his that anyone could immediately recognize. Previously I had been struck by his youthfulness, that ridiculous Mohawk seeming to suit him at that moment and did nothing to detract from his true age. He said nothing, but only sat on the grass not far from me, leaning back on his hands and waited for me to finish what I had been scribbling down.
I folded up the notebook after a moment and moved to sit next to him, sitting cross-legged while his slender legs were spread out before him. “Being away from home didn’t really hit me until Cathy handed me the keys to the house the studio is renting for me. I realized I’ve left behind everything that I’ve known, my family and my friends for the next year and a half,” he began his voice soft as he looked out to the lake. “But then, spending time with the lads, Beanie, and even John and Ian, that they’re going to be my family for the next eighteen months. Then it didn’t feel so long a time, then I realized this is the greatest opportunity of my life and I was going to enjoy it.”
At the time I was surprised by his perceptiveness, but realized later that it was common for Orli to notice other’s moods despite the person’s acting ability. He saw straight through all of it. “I think Peter’s worrying just how much you’re going to enjoy it.”
The broad sweeping smile that I quickly came to adore spread across his face and lit his eyes. “You’re sworn to secrecy.”
I raised my hands, not wanting to be involved in whatever brought for that brief glean in his eyes. “I know nothing.”
“What are you thinking about?”
The sleepy voice disturbed my thoughts and drew my focus again, finding his barely parted brown eyes staring up at me in curiosity. “How we met,” I replied easily, “how I fell in love with you.”
He smiled faintly, bringing my hand to his lips so he could press a soft kiss to my knuckles. His breathing slowed again and I figured he had gone back to sleep, but instead of returning to my musings, I slid down in the bed next to him and rested my head upon his chest, listening to the relaxed cadence of his heart. “Never thought it would turn out this way,” he mumbled after several minutes. I agreed silently, rubbing my hand over the contoured plane of his stomach. “I don’t say that with regret, you know that, but of all the ways I pictured my life to turn out, I never thought that I would ever be lying here in your arms. I didn’t think your would be the house that I returned to at the end of the day, it’d be your family that I saw at Christmas or that I’d ever celebrate Thanksgiving.”
“Our,” I interjected out of impulse.
“What?”
I raised my head, looking him in the eye. “Our house,” I repeated.
“Our,” he echoed thoughtfully. “Do you realizes we have two houses, a ranch, and a flat between the two of us. I don’t even know where to send my mail anymore,” Orlando noted with some seriousness. I snorted in amusement and commiseration and then assumed my former position. “Don’t laugh, I’m serious. Looking for my coat in London, realized I left it at yours in Idaho.”
“And your scarf.”
“Just as well, I had to nick Sam’s.”
“Had to . . .”
“Had to,” Orli reasserted.
It wasn’t often that I spoke without thought, but this wasn’t one of the issues in my life that required any deliberation. “Live with me.” It came out more of a statement as I shifted to lie over him , my body resting almost completely against, our faces only a few inches apart. “In LA, I mean.”
“But you like my house.”
“I do,” I agreed thoughtfully, more rurally located than my house in the suburbs.
“Live with me, then, you can make that room off the kitchen into your studio.”
“That’s settled,” I replied, kissing his chin.
“If only all our dilemmas were so easy to fix,” Orlando mused tiredly, his eyes closing once more even as his hands came to roam over my back.
“Hopefully not all of them will happen at three o’clock in the morning,” I noted, slowly kissing his face over and over. “I’ll let you go back to sleep.”
“I don’t have to be anywhere tomorrow,” he murmured sleepily. “Or the day after that or the day after that . . .” He sighed contentedly at the prospect, his body relaxing even further as he fell back to sleep.
It was one of the few days in summer that it decided to rain in Idaho, destined to be one of those long slow rains that lasted all day. Orli was used to it and generally would do anything in the rain that he would do in sunshine, but I was of an entirely different mind, content just to stay indoors and read or paint. Sitting outside on the porch under the over hang of the roof was where he found me, book in hand with a cup of steaming coffee on the armrest. He stood in the doorway, looking as though he was ready to go back to sleep, blanket around his shoulders, hair still tousled with his own mug of coffee in hand, steaming in his face.
I glanced up at him, laughed, and shaking my head turned back to my book. “Go back to sleep, Orli,” I teased him, knowing he only drank coffee to keep him awake, while it was a daily requirement on my part.
“This is the first day we’ve been able to spend together in ages, Vig.”
My words died on my lips when I saw the sincerity in his eyes, despite the lightness of his tone. I rose, coffee and book in hand, kissing him soundly on the mouth, getting the taste of the cheap Hazelnut coffee that he preferred over the much richer and stronger stuff that I drank—black, no sugar. “Then we’ll spend in bed together, you sleeping until you’re fully rested. Maybe I’ll read, maybe I’ll just hold you like I haven’t been able to do for the past three months.”
A sadness flicked over his dark eyes and he hugged me impulsively, the blanket pooling around our bare feet. “I haven’t taken any more projects. I’ve missed you too much to leave for another four/five months.”
“Don’t, Orli. Not for me, this is what you love.”
“I know,” Orli breathed, holding me tighter. “I know, but I . . .” he trailed off, gathering his thoughts. My words always flowed better when I was particularly emotional, the product of being a consistent artist, I suppose. But Orli, it was difficult to get him to say anything at all once he became particularly angry or upset. “I love acting, I always have, but your not just someone I come home to at the end of the day, you’re my life, more than acting, more than anything.”
“You’ll always have me, your career; it’s at its peak, Orli. You know how fickle this job can be.”
“I do, but right now . . . I don’t care. I just want to be here.”
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no subject
Date: 2006-01-05 04:12 pm (UTC)I like it.
Very much. :)
no subject
Date: 2006-01-05 05:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-05 10:07 pm (UTC)“I love acting, I always have, but your not just someone I come home to at the end of the day, you’re my life, more than acting, more than anything.”
All people should think like this! Thanks for sharing!
no subject
Date: 2006-01-05 10:10 pm (UTC)