vigorli

Title: The point of no return 5/?
Author:

obvmluver
Characters: Viggo/Orlando
Rating: NC-17, eventually.
Beta: The loveliest and the bestest,

littlegreenleaf
Warnings: Character death, angst (a ridiculous attempt at that), suspence
Summary: A father isn’t supposed to ever bury his own child, to grieve a young life lost.
Disclaimer: Don't know them, don't own them, no profit being made.

The photograph used in the banner was shot by myself, but the text added by my friend,

pale80.

Chapter 5
Luckily, the investors had called back when they had said they would. Orlando had kept on calling other places; to the investors he couldn’t reach a few days ago. He calculated that one day before the due date he’d have $8,000.00. Now he’d need $2,000.00 more. How the hell could he get that in just a few days? Of course, he could have taken out a mortgage but now that he thought more of it, it would somehow seem too transparent. He couldn’t trust anyone. Someone would sell his troubles to the media for sure. He felt that it would seem to be too odd for him, a movie star, to get one. Besides he had so many other things to pay for.

He thought of all of his friends. Could he ask money from them, perhaps? Or family? Mum would ask too many questions; so would Sam. Better not to scandalize them. Many of his friends would ask too many questions, too. The hobbits were, had always been, too nosy. Sean was in England and transferring money from Europe would take too long. Eric was too close of a person with small kids so he couldn’t ask him to lend money. Maybe Johnny? Oh, but he was in France as well. Fuck.

Maybe one of his acquaintances? Orlando felt himself getting more and more stressed out over this and noticed the telltale signs of withdrawal symptoms slowly finding their way present. Exactly what he needed. When they came he knew he couldn’t think straight. Viggo was the only real acquaintance he had. No, he couldn’t possibly call him. Viggo had made him feel he wasn’t welcome to even give him a call. Checking out his watch Orlando realized it was already early afternoon. Fuck.

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Viggo came in through the door. He had just come back from jogging. He also had made a lot of thinking in the last few days. Viggo now realized Orlando had seemed oddly cold,. He hadn’t been like his normal self at all. He couldn’t help the fact that he felt hurt, heartbroken.

He took a shower not hurrying out of there. Leaning against the tiled wall he let the water run down his back and over his shoulders. The jog had felt good and had given him a way to release his anger and frustration. Finally stepping out of the shower feeling relaxed and renewed, he dried quickly and, wrapping the towel around his waist, walked into his kitchen and poured himself a glass of juice. He knocked the glass down, startled when Orlando suddenly let himself in, and the freshly poured juice flowed to the sink.

“What the fuck do you think you are doing?!” Viggo yelled, anger resurfacing.

Orlando slammed the door shut clinging to the doorknob and almost losing his balance. “Good thing you still keep the door unlocked when inside.”

“I asked you what the fuck you are doing in my house!” Viggo yelled again, this time shouting straight at Orlando’s face. “I don’t want you here. Get out!”

“Vig... Shit.” Orlando let go of the knob and the trembles hit him straight away. There were also weird twitches his body seemed to have. “I’m... in trouble.” Orlando breathed and grabbed the knob again. “Help...”

Viggo visibly jumped back as he saw Orlando. His eyes were strange. They held an eerie glow. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Bugs. They don’t let me be.”

“Orlando. Stop this nonsense. This isn’t funny.”

“I need... 2000 bucks from you, ASAP.” Orlando swallowed audibly.

“You are incoherent. What the fuck are you on?”

“Cocaine. Lovely stuff. Brings these bugs.”

“WHAT?!”

“I’m an addict, for fuck’s sake; have been for God knows how long. Give me the bucks, please. Get these off me.” Orlando removed his jacket throwing it onto the floor and scratched his arms and feet. That’s when Viggo saw them. There were old and not so old cuts running on Orlando’s arms.

“What have you done to yourself?” Viggo asked, his voice pitched higher than normal as he grabbed Orlando’s wrist. “Why do you deliberately hurt yourself?” Viggo asked his voice now calm but worried.

“Because it makes them go away. Gods, I’ve sunken low.”

Viggo pinched the bridge of his nose. “Before I decide to give you anything, sit down and let me get dressed. You will tell me, in detail, how things have gotten so out of hand. Then, if I see it reasonable or get the feeling that by lending you money I’m actually doing something to help you, I’ll write you a check and you can cash it anytime you like. Now, sit,” Viggo growled feeling a headache seeping in. Where the heck was he getting himself into now? Sighing he walked Orlando to the couch and made his way to his bathroom. Pulling on a pair of boxers and sweatpants, Viggo grabbed a paint stained flannel shirt on his way back to the living room. Rubbing his temples he sat down next to Orlando who seemed to have calmed down a little. “Now, would you tell me how you got into this mess?”