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vigorliTitle: That Boy
Author: Adrienne
Pairing: V/O
Rating: PG
Summary: He thought we could still be friends. I hated him for that.
Warnings: Angst. Muchly.
Disclaimer: Ummm... no. Duh.
First slash story I've ever finished. But please, don't let that put you off.
The first time I saw him I knew he was a force I would never survive. He was standing with the Hobbits outside one of the make-up trailers, dressed in the clothes of the woodland elves, the sides of his head shaved to leave a long strip of unruly brown hair. His head was thrown back in elation, his eyes nearly closed as he laughed loudly. The rich sound slid through me and wrapped itself around me, a concrete thing I would never forget.
Peter called him over and he waved goodbye to the Hobbits whom I had met yesterday, leaving them to the long process of having their wig applied, something I was soon to know and hate. He ran to us, practically leaping with the energy and youthfulness that was purely him.
He hugged Peter and immediately started babbling about a jump he had made from a cable car the day before. Peter let him speak, smiling gently in the way parents did with their over-eager children. I watch him, fascinated by the mixture of elf and human boy that he was. His dark dark eyes were shining as he described in detail the sensation of falling to your death, only to be jerked back to life at the last moment.
I would learn later that such a thing meant so much more to him that it ever would to most people. But for now I simply watched him, enthralled as his hands flailed in exuberance.
After a while Peter finally stopped his endless string of words and turned him around to face me. His eyes caught mine and my body suddenly felt too small. I felt the urge to move, to dance, to run until I couldn’t any more if only I could bring this boy.
“I’m so sorry, mate. I’m such an arse. I’m Orlando, the elf. You must be Aragorn.”
“Viggo.” I said, surprised that my body complied with my brain. I breathed deeply as I shook his hand and gathered myself back together before I scared the boy. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
He laughed at me then. Before I could wonder what I had done he had pulled me to him by the hand he held firmly and hugged me hard. My stomach flipped and my heart skipped a beat.
“You’re going to have to lighten up, mate.” He said as he pulled away, wrapping a friendly arm around my shoulder. “A little time with this group of crazies and an attitude like that will have you going nuts. Come on, I’ll introduce you to the other human in the group. We call him Beanie ‘cus he hates it.”
And with that he was whisking me away from Peter and dragging me head first and willing into the insane world of Middle-Earth that would change me forever and claim my soul.
*
It was months before anything would become of that sinking feeling I had in my gut that first time he had touched me. For endless weeks I had watched him and dreamed of him and loved him, all the while telling myself that I could never have him.
His energy had proved to be boundless and his smile was a constant that kept a lot of people going. He was a lifeline to me at times when I thought this world we had created was too much. I knew I loved him. As a friend, as a brother, as a drowning man loves air I loved him. But always, always the mantra in my head that I could not have him.
I’ll remember it until the day I die. That cold, sunless day that he had come to my house and curled up beside me on the couch and my world had been completed. It was in the middle of the Helm’s Deep shoot and we all knew we would never survive it.
We were pale and thin and battered and the cold of the fabricated rain never seemed to leave anymore. He had dark circled under his eyes that had to be washed away every night in the make-up chair and blisters on his hands from the bow and the knives he used to kill our stuntmen; bruises from the rock walls and stone floors that had become our world.
I held on to him tightly as we watched the fire die, my hands woven through his hair, the dark curls twisting around my fingers. He spoke softly, never content with a silent room, about nonsense things that somehow made sense to me.
And then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, he turned to me and kissed me. Fireworks went off in my head and my heart dropped to the floor and I felt like I was falling without the lifeline attached to my feet.
Then he turned back around, burrowing further into my side, and went back to his words; a never ending drone that I would never tire of.
We made love to each other that day. We fucked each other that day. More than one piece of furniture had to be cleaned or thrown out.
I woke up that night with the incessant blare of my alarm clock in my ear and my arms wrapped around a solid, warm body. I was exhausted. My whole body ached; the cuts and bruises and knots I had received over the past weeks were throbbing. Rain was thundering over my roof and the night’s shoot promised to be cold and miserable.
I don’t think I had ever been happier.
*
We were open about our relationship from the start, unafraid of the outside world while we were locked in our own. We were teased and lectured and watched and whispered about, but none of it ever seemed to reach us.
We were happy with each other and that’s all that mattered
Weeks and months passed by and I couldn’t have loved him more. I dreamed of our lives together. I pictured a house in the country with horses and dogs and enough spare bedrooms for all of our friends. I thought about the years we would have and how we would grow old together.
And all the while a small voice continued the mantra I had started so long ago. You can never have him. But I did have him. He was mine. The voice didn’t know what it was talking about. And so I silenced it. Ignored it. Pushed it to the back of my mind where I could barely hear it any more.
*
But as it turned out, the voice was right.
We were leaving the next morning. He would board a plane for England and I would return to L.A.. We would no longer have our imaginary world where we were safe and loved and accepted. We both knew it. I didn’t try to tell myself it was any different.
So when he told me it had to end I did not try to change his mind. I wanted to get down on my knees and beg him not to leave me. Hold him in my arms and never let him leave; stay lost in our world forever. But I didn’t. I couldn’t.
I simply kissed him and told him I understood. He cried and I tried not to and I held him until morning.
Then I watched him fly away.
*
He thought we could still be friends. His naivety was something I loved, but I hated him for that. How can he expect me to go back to being his friend when I knew what could be? When I knew what it was like to hold him at night. To kiss him when I woke in the morning. To share a smile that was just for us. To simply sit with him and know that he was mine.
I couldn’t, but he didn’t know that.
I promised myself, as I flew back over the Pacific Ocean, that he would never know that I couldn’t go back to friendly hugs and loveless eyes and smiles that didn’t mean anything.
So whenever I saw him again, perfect with his endless smile and tireless eyes, and felt him wrap his arms around me again, I would pull on the mask of the man he needed me to be. It took all of my skills as an actor and a man to pretend to love him the way he wanted me to.
*
To soon our world crumbled and we all drifted away. We went back to our lives, changed by our time in New Zealand, and we saw each other less and less.
I watched them all, the family I loved, through newspapers and magazines and precious phone calls we never had time for. I watched him, my elf, as he found the world he wanted and became the star he was always supposed to be.
And I watched the innocence I loved slowly slip away. Each movie, each premiere, each photo taken by a man hidden in the bushes, stole away the boy I had loved and replaced him with the man I didn’t know.
He found a new love and I hated her. And he found new friends and gushed about them in interviews like he used to about me. I hated them too.
But always I was the man he wanted; the smile he needed, the words he wanted to hear.
I never stopped loving him. Even when, after so long, we saw each other again and I realized everything had changed. We walked the beaches of Paradise in the holiday season. Too much time had passed since we saw each other last. There was so much to say that we couldn’t say anything at all.
He was different, this man that walked beside me. There was something in him that I didn’t recognize. Something harsh, something bitter. Something devastating. There was no more of the exuberant youth that had pulled me around a fairy-tale world and gotten me lost. He could stand still without twitching and not speak when the silence between us had gone on too long.
I realized that I didn’t know him anymore.
And then I watched him fly away again; off to his new world of bright lights and red carpets and the perfect girlfriend to hang on his arm. And I wondered what had happened to that boy I had loved.
END
Adrienne
Author: Adrienne
Pairing: V/O
Rating: PG
Summary: He thought we could still be friends. I hated him for that.
Warnings: Angst. Muchly.
Disclaimer: Ummm... no. Duh.
First slash story I've ever finished. But please, don't let that put you off.
The first time I saw him I knew he was a force I would never survive. He was standing with the Hobbits outside one of the make-up trailers, dressed in the clothes of the woodland elves, the sides of his head shaved to leave a long strip of unruly brown hair. His head was thrown back in elation, his eyes nearly closed as he laughed loudly. The rich sound slid through me and wrapped itself around me, a concrete thing I would never forget.
Peter called him over and he waved goodbye to the Hobbits whom I had met yesterday, leaving them to the long process of having their wig applied, something I was soon to know and hate. He ran to us, practically leaping with the energy and youthfulness that was purely him.
He hugged Peter and immediately started babbling about a jump he had made from a cable car the day before. Peter let him speak, smiling gently in the way parents did with their over-eager children. I watch him, fascinated by the mixture of elf and human boy that he was. His dark dark eyes were shining as he described in detail the sensation of falling to your death, only to be jerked back to life at the last moment.
I would learn later that such a thing meant so much more to him that it ever would to most people. But for now I simply watched him, enthralled as his hands flailed in exuberance.
After a while Peter finally stopped his endless string of words and turned him around to face me. His eyes caught mine and my body suddenly felt too small. I felt the urge to move, to dance, to run until I couldn’t any more if only I could bring this boy.
“I’m so sorry, mate. I’m such an arse. I’m Orlando, the elf. You must be Aragorn.”
“Viggo.” I said, surprised that my body complied with my brain. I breathed deeply as I shook his hand and gathered myself back together before I scared the boy. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
He laughed at me then. Before I could wonder what I had done he had pulled me to him by the hand he held firmly and hugged me hard. My stomach flipped and my heart skipped a beat.
“You’re going to have to lighten up, mate.” He said as he pulled away, wrapping a friendly arm around my shoulder. “A little time with this group of crazies and an attitude like that will have you going nuts. Come on, I’ll introduce you to the other human in the group. We call him Beanie ‘cus he hates it.”
And with that he was whisking me away from Peter and dragging me head first and willing into the insane world of Middle-Earth that would change me forever and claim my soul.
*
It was months before anything would become of that sinking feeling I had in my gut that first time he had touched me. For endless weeks I had watched him and dreamed of him and loved him, all the while telling myself that I could never have him.
His energy had proved to be boundless and his smile was a constant that kept a lot of people going. He was a lifeline to me at times when I thought this world we had created was too much. I knew I loved him. As a friend, as a brother, as a drowning man loves air I loved him. But always, always the mantra in my head that I could not have him.
I’ll remember it until the day I die. That cold, sunless day that he had come to my house and curled up beside me on the couch and my world had been completed. It was in the middle of the Helm’s Deep shoot and we all knew we would never survive it.
We were pale and thin and battered and the cold of the fabricated rain never seemed to leave anymore. He had dark circled under his eyes that had to be washed away every night in the make-up chair and blisters on his hands from the bow and the knives he used to kill our stuntmen; bruises from the rock walls and stone floors that had become our world.
I held on to him tightly as we watched the fire die, my hands woven through his hair, the dark curls twisting around my fingers. He spoke softly, never content with a silent room, about nonsense things that somehow made sense to me.
And then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, he turned to me and kissed me. Fireworks went off in my head and my heart dropped to the floor and I felt like I was falling without the lifeline attached to my feet.
Then he turned back around, burrowing further into my side, and went back to his words; a never ending drone that I would never tire of.
We made love to each other that day. We fucked each other that day. More than one piece of furniture had to be cleaned or thrown out.
I woke up that night with the incessant blare of my alarm clock in my ear and my arms wrapped around a solid, warm body. I was exhausted. My whole body ached; the cuts and bruises and knots I had received over the past weeks were throbbing. Rain was thundering over my roof and the night’s shoot promised to be cold and miserable.
I don’t think I had ever been happier.
*
We were open about our relationship from the start, unafraid of the outside world while we were locked in our own. We were teased and lectured and watched and whispered about, but none of it ever seemed to reach us.
We were happy with each other and that’s all that mattered
Weeks and months passed by and I couldn’t have loved him more. I dreamed of our lives together. I pictured a house in the country with horses and dogs and enough spare bedrooms for all of our friends. I thought about the years we would have and how we would grow old together.
And all the while a small voice continued the mantra I had started so long ago. You can never have him. But I did have him. He was mine. The voice didn’t know what it was talking about. And so I silenced it. Ignored it. Pushed it to the back of my mind where I could barely hear it any more.
*
But as it turned out, the voice was right.
We were leaving the next morning. He would board a plane for England and I would return to L.A.. We would no longer have our imaginary world where we were safe and loved and accepted. We both knew it. I didn’t try to tell myself it was any different.
So when he told me it had to end I did not try to change his mind. I wanted to get down on my knees and beg him not to leave me. Hold him in my arms and never let him leave; stay lost in our world forever. But I didn’t. I couldn’t.
I simply kissed him and told him I understood. He cried and I tried not to and I held him until morning.
Then I watched him fly away.
*
He thought we could still be friends. His naivety was something I loved, but I hated him for that. How can he expect me to go back to being his friend when I knew what could be? When I knew what it was like to hold him at night. To kiss him when I woke in the morning. To share a smile that was just for us. To simply sit with him and know that he was mine.
I couldn’t, but he didn’t know that.
I promised myself, as I flew back over the Pacific Ocean, that he would never know that I couldn’t go back to friendly hugs and loveless eyes and smiles that didn’t mean anything.
So whenever I saw him again, perfect with his endless smile and tireless eyes, and felt him wrap his arms around me again, I would pull on the mask of the man he needed me to be. It took all of my skills as an actor and a man to pretend to love him the way he wanted me to.
*
To soon our world crumbled and we all drifted away. We went back to our lives, changed by our time in New Zealand, and we saw each other less and less.
I watched them all, the family I loved, through newspapers and magazines and precious phone calls we never had time for. I watched him, my elf, as he found the world he wanted and became the star he was always supposed to be.
And I watched the innocence I loved slowly slip away. Each movie, each premiere, each photo taken by a man hidden in the bushes, stole away the boy I had loved and replaced him with the man I didn’t know.
He found a new love and I hated her. And he found new friends and gushed about them in interviews like he used to about me. I hated them too.
But always I was the man he wanted; the smile he needed, the words he wanted to hear.
I never stopped loving him. Even when, after so long, we saw each other again and I realized everything had changed. We walked the beaches of Paradise in the holiday season. Too much time had passed since we saw each other last. There was so much to say that we couldn’t say anything at all.
He was different, this man that walked beside me. There was something in him that I didn’t recognize. Something harsh, something bitter. Something devastating. There was no more of the exuberant youth that had pulled me around a fairy-tale world and gotten me lost. He could stand still without twitching and not speak when the silence between us had gone on too long.
I realized that I didn’t know him anymore.
And then I watched him fly away again; off to his new world of bright lights and red carpets and the perfect girlfriend to hang on his arm. And I wondered what had happened to that boy I had loved.
END
Adrienne
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Date: 2005-01-10 01:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-10 11:50 pm (UTC)Adrienne
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Date: 2005-01-10 02:14 pm (UTC)Not the fic, that was bloody brilliant, you wrote it beautifully, so sad and ........ no words.
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Date: 2005-01-10 11:50 pm (UTC)Adrienne
no subject
Date: 2005-01-10 02:26 pm (UTC)I couldn't hold the tears, I would like to read it again but I think I won't do it in a short time..
great job indeed but ouch the sadness!
no subject
Date: 2005-01-10 11:52 pm (UTC)Thank you.
Adrienne
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Date: 2005-01-10 02:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-10 11:54 pm (UTC)And yeah. It's strange that this should be my first fic, because I hate reading them myself. I prefer the sappy, happy endings. *shrugs* It makes me sad to think of what used to be.
Adrienne
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Date: 2005-01-10 02:50 pm (UTC)Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2005-01-10 11:54 pm (UTC)Adrienne
no subject
Date: 2005-01-10 06:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-10 11:55 pm (UTC)Adrienne
no subject
Date: 2005-01-10 08:18 pm (UTC)*sniffles* Bring the old Orli back! This is a lovely fic, but devastating all the same. I love your Viggo, it's heartbreaking, because his reaction to the loss of the Orli he held dear is very much the reaction I would have myself. *sob* The realism of it all just kills me. ;_;
Brilliant fic, though! I'm glad you shared. I hope to see more. <3 *hugs*
no subject
Date: 2005-01-10 11:57 pm (UTC)*hands you a tissue* There will certainly be more in the future. Thank you.
Adrienne
no subject
Date: 2005-01-12 04:11 pm (UTC)It's the little touches, like Peter let him speak, smiling gently in the way parents did with their over-eager children and "We call him Beanie ‘cus he hates it” that make it hurt that little bit more.
No happy endings here, and that feels so right for this story.
Thank you.
On another note, I have to say I really love your icon *licks Seans' back*
no subject
Date: 2005-01-12 11:01 pm (UTC)And yeah. Sean. *drools* You can steal it if you like. I'm all about sharing the love. :)
Adrienne