vigorli

Ficlet
Title: The Doorway
Author:

blueluthien
Pairing: Viggo/Orlando
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: This is only a product of my imagination. I am making no claims on their sexuality. These two men belong to themselves.
But a girl can dream.
Note: It is Viggo´s POV.
Feedback. Yes, please!

I am standing in the doorway- only a few inches separate the exterior from the interior of the place he lives in, and which I so eagerly called “The house of dreams” the first night I stood outside his London house, freezing inside the car, staring at the window on the second floor; I saw him dancing to the sound of Hungry Eyes, and I lost it- but I don’t seem to find the courage to take one more step.

I am the cool, calm guy who hardly ever panics, and at the same time, I am the artist who lets emotions flow freely like a waterfall.
I am supposed to throw a party and then, make sure everyone has a safe drive back home.

I believed I had reached the peak of the mountain where serenity lives. And I was sure I was brave enough to assume my own feelings and say: “I do”, because I do… love him more than I can bear.

But I am lost in a bloody shortcut that takes me nowhere, and I am too afraid to take the main road.

He is opening the door, and with an ethereal smile he invites me in. He speaks no words, but we both know he knows, he has always known I wanted him.

He has his hands buried in his worn out jeans pockets, and he looks as shy as the old Orli, the wannabe actor becoming the elf boy, but this time he is standing with his head held high, in a statement of boldness.

His hair is wet, but it curls with a kiss from the evening breeze that seems to worship him as much as I do.
God, he is the most beautiful creature I have ever dreamt of gazing at! He is a grown man with deep eyes that show how much he wants to evolve, and have a meaningful story to tell in a few decades from now, when he is out of the spotlight.

I want to wrap him in my arms, and whisper stories of our future in his attentive ears, because I see us walking proudly hand in hand by the Danube River, and I wonder if he sees the same as I do.

What would Aragorn do, if he faced an undeniable truth more powerful than a mighty army of Men, Elves, Wizards, Orcs and Uruk-Hai all combined?

Would he flee?
I do not think so.

I am not Aragorn, but I should have learned something from him.

I am made of flesh and an aching heart, as much as I am made of the spiritual matter.
All parts of me tell me to move my feet forward, and cross the doorway.

It is starting to rain, a heavy rain that pours violently down on me with no mercy.

He reaches out his arms to me, and tells me to get inside before I melt like a figure made of clay.

His voice echoes in my head, and I know I am melting by now.
I am falling because I cannot fight a feeling that is obviously greater than I am.

I know this is a war not worth fighting, for it has been lost since the first second I laid my eyes on Orlando.

My Or lan do.

Mine. The way he smiles at me tells me he is mine.

My feet are in motion; one step, and one more, and I am inside his house.

It was a long journey, but I am finally there.
My fear remains now far from the doorway…