vigorli

Title: Shadows of life - Chapter 6
Author:

obvmluver
Beta: The wonderful

littlegreenleaf.
Rating: NC-17 in the end.
Pairing: Viggo/Karl, eventually Viggo/Orlando
Summary: When everything seems to spiral downwards, is a human being able to rise from the ashes?
Warnings: Violence, if you look closely enough.
Disclaimer: I wish I knew the boys but I don't. I also don't make any profit with this.

A note: Okay. I want to just tell you readers that there will be a while before the next post is up. RL in the form of work shifts is giving me shit, making me unable to write as much as I'd like. So bear with me please. There is no way I am abandoning this since I love writing this so much. Just... have patience.

Crossposted to a lot of places... Please don't nail me for that.

Banner made by a good friend,

pale80.

CHAPTER INDEX

6

Orlando almost ripped the clothes off of as he got back. He ran to the bathroom and threw up. Flushing the toilet he sat on his knees gripping the toilet seat, panting hard. He hiccupped a few times before giving in. It started with a few tiny sobs but soon the heart wrenching cry escaped his lips. He was weak, so weak it frightened him.

Orlando brushed his teeth and looked at himself through the mirror. How had he been able to go to the wedding and come back? He didn’t know. Now, he felt like his knees would give out on him any time. And brushing teeth was really hard when you cried.

Making his way to the bed he dug his phone out of the pile of clothes that had been his attire for the wedding. Dialling the number of his doctor he waited. “Oh, hi... Yeah, it Orlando... I was wondering if I could already check back in... Yeah... I’m so weak it frightens me... Oh, good. When?...That soon?... No, it’s only good... Yes... I’ll see you...Bye.” Orlando felt so relieved he broke down all over again. He was checking back in to the hospital. The doctor had said he would be recovered enough for the transplantation.

Before he left he made two more phone calls to Sean and his mom telling them he’d left for the hospital and was forced to leave his phone home. The ward where he’ll be admitted to is so deep underground the cell phones wouldn’t be working. Dressing up Orlando threw the phone onto his bed and left.

~*~

Lucy was there on the ward waiting for him with the hospital clothes and a recently made bed. This time the mattress was softer, easier for Orlando’s back. “You’ve worked your magic and gotten me a decent bed this time?” Orlando commented mirth in his tired eyes.

“Well, another patient flew to heaven a few days ago. We gave you her mattress, all washed up of course.” Lucy answered quietly. Orlando’s eyes went wide. He wanted to change his old mattress back but he had to think of himself as well. His back wouldn’t be killing him as much now.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” he said sitting down onto his new bed.

“It’s life, Orli. Now, just buzz me if you need anything.”

“Will do, Lucy. And thank you.” Smiling and shaking her head Lucy walked out.

Orlando took his diary and flipped through the pages. Finding a blank space he touched the white surface with the tip of the ball point pen and started scribbling.

Okay...
It was hard, the wedding. Viggo seemed happy and Karl was continuously bugging me. I’ve got a nice and purplish hand print on my arm now. I was bruised already, now even more so.

Viggo cried for me. On his special day no less. That made me feel like an idiot. I shouldn’t have said anything. But he’s married and I was there. That’s what counts.

After I got back I had to call my doc and ask if I could come back to the hospital. I felt so weak back home, weaker than ever before. My doctor said it would be wise to come back. So I did and here I am, sitting on a bed taken from a dead woman. My old bed was killing me, making my back hurt like a bitch. This one is better but to know that the previous owner died... it makes me shudder.

Anyway, this is it. I’ll be here, in a room for three, for a few days gaining some of my strength back and then I’ll change into a one man room for the duration of the transplant. I’m scared, scared shitless. In about fourteen days we’ll know what my destiny is.

The hour is dark and there’s nothing much for me to hold onto, no one to fight this for, except for my mom, but that goes without saying. Feels somehow useless. This makes me wonder if people would remember me after two years if I died now. Probably wouldn’t.

You see, I’ve been reading the discussions about me in the Internet and there have been talk about my effect in Hollywood... that the shine I used to have isn’t as bright like it used to be. Do I care? No, not really. Does it make me think about my future? Yes, it used to, before the diagnosis.

Life is too precious. I have already escaped death once and I’ll make sure there’s a point in the roles I’ll take IF I escape death again. Only, it’s a really big IF.

Orlando slammed his diary shut and threw the pen onto the bed. It had dawned on him that this really was his final lifeline. If it went wrong somehow, he’d need to start counting his days. But, he’d have this diary, a window to the living and breathing world. It would be his only way to get in contact with his loved ones beyond the grave. Sighing, Orlando opened the book again and reached for his pen. Writing down a few well- thought out words, he realized he was once again fighting against bitter tears...and loneliness as well.

TBC...