fellowshippers | Dancing with the daffodils chapter 6/18

Title: Dancing with the Daffodils 6/18
Author: Maria Layne
Pairing: Viggo/Orlando (and others)
Rating: NC-17 ( for m/m sex)
Please see the warnings in chapter 1
Disclaimer: This is a fictional story with certain actors cast in the main roles. I am not claiming anything about their real life sexuality or making any money from this. I wish.

Feedback: Please tell me if you are liking this - or not.

Thank you to my most wonderful beta

bluespirit_star who is the best friend anyone could have.

previous chapters are here:
chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5

and here is:

Dancing with the Daffodils by Maria Layne

Dancing with the Daffodils by Maria Layne

Chapter 6

I drove blindly, not taking much notice of where I was going, so it was with vague surprise that I found myself driving along the road near the beach towards Karl’s flat. I needed comfort, reassurance and oblivion, and I was sure to find at least the last of those in Karl’s bed. As I drove, I started to look forward to that mindless fuck, telling myself that afterwards I would feel so much better, that after the rough sex - harsh and animalistic and biting and gripping and silent - the way Karl preferred it - I would be able to scream my release and with it let go of all the pain and frustration of my stupid fixation on my lovely piece of jailbait. What an idiot I was to even consider that there could be anything between us. Anything that happened would damage him and irreparably harm my peace of mind, my job, my credibility and my sanity - and besides, I had no right to feel affection towards anyone. David had been my one and only love, and there was nobody who was going to take his place - who could even come close. I would only end up hurting anyone I got close to, and hurting myself.

I pulled up outside Karl’s place and nearly hit a bike that was parked in my habitual parking space. I opened the car door angrily and slammed it shut, then kicked the offending bike as I passed it. I was already hard, craving the deliverance that primitive, animalistic fucking would provide. I was ready to devour him as I waited outside his door. I knocked several times, then called out.
"Come on, Karl, open the fucking door!"
He opened it, let me in, and I grabbed him and consumed his mouth. He responded immediately, then pulled back.
"I need you so badly." I whispered.
"I can see that, lover." His eyes were full of regret, as he indicated the mess in his flat. "I’m so sorry!"
The realisation of what I was seeing made me flush with embarrassment. There were clothes everywhere, including a bike helmet and leathers. Karl doesn’t ride a bike. I was shocked into a semblance of sanity.
"I’m really sorry, Karl, forgive me, okay." I backed out of the door, dreading to think about what I had just done, what I had just assumed. I had no right to impose upon him, no right to think that he would be there for me. His life had to continue long after I returned home. Loneliness engulfed me in its darkness. Karl’s voice sounded so apologetic as I fled towards my car.
"Viggo... Call me!"

Instead of getting into the car, I walked for a while, down the steps and along the beach, feeling stupid and angry and sorry for myself. The reflections of the streetlights caught the waves and rode them up the beach. I watched the endless breaking of the waves as I walked along the edge of the water, and reached absently for the camera that wasn’t around my neck. I took fewer photos now, and hadn’t painted anything since David’s death. So many things had changed. The sea never really changed. Well, no, it was constantly changing, but it was always there, never totally predictable, but always the sea. I dared the wavelets to wet my feet, then skipped away as they approached too close. That’s what my whole life was about wasn’t it? I wanted things to get close, dared them to affect my life, then ran at the last minute so they never touched me. I was a poor excuse for a human being.

I sat down on the wet sand and let the tears consume me in a way they hadn’t done since the day David died. Maybe it was time to stop running. Maybe it was time to grow up and face my responsibilities. I was here in this country to be a teacher, and that is what I intended to be. It was something I was good at. It was something I could do. And I knew the rules and could stick to them. I had no business getting close to a student, and that had to stop. Friendship was okay, but nothing more. Then, when the year was over, I would go home and start over. I would go back to my old school with the scars healed and the bruises gone, ready to begin my life again. This was just an interlude - a place to heal. All this would soon pass, and Orlando with it. What I had done tonight hurt - oh God, did it hurt – but I recognised a truth as I sat there. Orlando’s life, like Karl’s, must continue after I had gone. We had no future together. There was no point in dreaming. I gazed out at the beauty of the waves crashing against the shore, reflecting the lights from the street above me, and steeled myself to cope, to return strong and resolute to my temporary abode.

I knew as I pulled up in the driveway that Orlando was gone. The house was in total darkness. As I opened the door and flicked on the light, the silence was a sharp reminder of emptiness. Nevertheless, I walked into the lounge room with a feeling of vague trepidation, thinking of how I had left here just a couple of hours before. The room looked the same. Only Orlando was gone. As I cleared up the coffee mugs, I realised that Orlando must have stayed for a while. His coffee was finished, and the beer, and he had moved several pieces on the chessboard. I was about to pack it away when I suddenly realised what he had done. The little rascal. I couldn’t help but smile. He had played the game until the only logical move was to sacrifice the white queen. The rest of the pieces were placed in erotic positions, one on top of another, all over the coffee table. But I could see little smears of water on the surface, too, and I knew instinctively that these were the traces of my sweetheart’s tears.

I traced them with my finger, then brought the tip to my mouth, almost without thinking. The strongest determinations are undermined by such small things. As I picked up the chess pieces, I smiled at his amazingly brave humour in the face of despair. This boy was so adorable, so bright, so funny. How could I continue to hurt him? But how could I avoid it? Maybe there was a way that we could be friends. Was that possible?

Even with my new-found resolve, I was dreading the next rehearsal. How would I face him? How would he react? I couldn’t bring myself to go down to the hall straight away. I tidied my desk, marked a few books, until I realized that I wasn’t concentrating on those either. So I threw them into my bag and decided to face the music.

“Ah! The late Mr Mortensen!” Grinned Anna. “Benvolio has after-school detention, so you’re it, my friend.” She thrust a book into my hand and pushed me straight up onto the stage. Here I was. Face to face with Orlando.
"Dost thou not laugh?" he asked.
I glanced at the script, but I knew what the answer was. And anyway it was true.
"No, coz, I rather weep."
"Good heart, at what?" He smiled sadly at me.
"At thy good heart's oppression." I had hurt him badly, and he wanted me to know it. The next speech was all for me, telling me what I had done to him.
"Why, such is love's transgression.
Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast,
Which thou wilt propagate, to have it prest
With more of thine. This love that thou hast shown
Doth add more grief to too much of mine own.
Love is a smoke rais'd with the fume of sighs;
Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes;
Being vex'd, a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears.
What is it else? A madness most discreet,
A choking gall,” he paused, then almost whispered that last few words, “and a preserving sweet."
It was all so true, and he told me so clearly. A sea nourished by lovers’ tears. I had watched that sea, been engulfed by it. A madness. A choking gall. And yes, love added so much grief to everything. I couldn’t answer him. I wanted to take him into my arms so badly, to tell him that everything would be all right. But I knew that wasn’t true. But then he was also telling me something else. That pause, that whisper. “ And a preserving sweet.” He was telling me that he wouldn’t give up. I admired him so much at that moment for his courage and determination – a determination that had the power to undermine my own.

Benvolio’s,
"I’m here now, Sir," broke the exquisite tension, shattered the intimacy that existed centre stage. I shook my head at Orlando’s devotion and persistence. He knew how much I wanted him.

I decided that what we both needed was a break from each other. Time to regroup. Time to back down so that we could start again as friends. The trouble was, there was no way to avoid him, no convenient way to step out of his life. We had to do this infernal play. He had to rehearse, and I had to teach him the moves I had choreographed.

Until we faced each other again, talked about what happened, nothing would be resolved. His pain wasn’t going to go away simply because I ignored it. And then sometimes when tears threatened to overwhelm me, I surprised myself in the realization that I was thinking about separation from Orlando instead of David.

Orlando and Colin had both fenced when they were younger, when there had been classes at the PCYC, so I was surprised a few days later when Colin started to complain about Orlando’s technique.
"Come on, Orlando, pay attention!" Colin’s blade had caught Orlando across the arm.

I focused on Orlando, knowing there was something wrong. He seemed apathetic, exhausted. I blamed myself. I really didn’t know what was the matter. I suppose it could have been anything, really, but I figured it probably had something to do with me. I blamed myself for everything these days. But I didn’t want him to suffer, either. As usual, I had no idea how to handle the situation. My uselessness soon became apparent. I told him several times to concentrate, then lost my patience with him, taking Colin’s place as his partner. He looked at me so sadly, punishing me for what I had done. I couldn’t face that look. I hit his sword a couple of times.
"Come on, Orlando, concentrate. Fight me. You’re angry with me. Show me how angry you are..." And he was. His whole demeanour changed as he attacked, using first the choreographed moves and then pushing me further. I didn’t want to fight back. I wanted him to win, to punish me for what he had done to me.

The last time I had sparred with David I had wanted that too. Memories returned in a rush. David had always been the champion, for Christ’s sake. What was he doing stopping this bout, bending over in pain? This was wrong and I wouldn’t accept it.
"Come on, fight me!" I insisted.
"I can’t, love, I’ve had it. Help me here!" I ignored the hand he held out to me as he tried to catch his breath, and I tried to goad him to attack.
"What do you mean, you’ve fucking had it?" I struck out at him, hitting him with my epée, "Fight me! Fuck it! Fight me!"
The fight blurred inexplicably as hot tears burned my face, and I felt his arms go round me, to support both of us. But I didn’t need his support and he had no right to be needing mine.
"Hey!" I heard David’s voice through a tunnel "You know something? I’ll probably never be able to beat you again."
And I threw away his arms and my epée and the care that he needed.
"You don’t fucking get it, do you?" I screamed at him as I ran off, "I want you to fucking beat me, you moron!"

I must have stopped responding to Orlando’s aggressive moves, because his attack stopped as suddenly as it had begun. His anger and pain welled up just beneath the surface of his eyes. My fault. The anguish was my fault. He put the foil down on the floor, turned and left, dignity intact. Colin didn’t understand, but he left too. My stomach twisted with remorse. I leaned against the cupboard door as I put the foils away. This was not going the way I had planned. This was not going to be easy.

I needed to work out what was happening. Everything was too complicated, and all my resolve seemed to fade at a single glance from Orlando. I needed to get out into the fresh air and run for miles. Run and never come back – that might solve it. But wasn’t that what I was doing here in the first place?

Orlando was talking to Karl when I jogged up. My heart sped up along with my feet, as I approached them, wondering what they could be saying. But Orlando left as I arrived, just smiled at me as he walked his dog in the other direction, as if I was a passing acquaintance.
"Hi Viggo!"
What was that all about? Was he trying to tell me that in this game, whatever it was, he was my equal? That outside school we were on some sort of level ground? That he had not, and would not give up? Did it matter? I loved the way he said my name. I wanted to hear it again. And Karl made a joke of it.
"Well fuck me! Viggo! Viggo is it now?"
And I couldn’t ask what they were talking about without making it worse. But I did, anyway.
"What were you saying?"
He wouldn’t tell me at first, then sensing my annoyance admitted that he had asked Orlando to join him for a drink.
I felt the rage grow, even as I was telling myself that it was irrational, that I shouldn’t be feeling it. But whether I should be or shouldn’t be somehow didn’t stop the incredible surge of anger. I was furious. I turned on Karl, a snarling lion protecting a cub, or was it a mate?
"What!? He’s fucking seventeen for Christ’s sake! How dare you…" And I raged at him in full force for several minutes. My eloquence knew no bounds, accusing Karl of all the things of which I was accusing myself.
Karl let me rant. He watched the anger seethe and burn until it consumed itself without fuel, and I suddenly collapsed, deflated.
"Listen to yourself," he said. He held me because I needed it, and I allowed it, there on the top of the hill in the middle of the bike track, in full sight of anyone who drove past.
“What am I going to do?”
“What does Sean say?” I had told Karl about Sean, but somehow I hadn’t brought myself to tell Sean about everything to do with Orlando. “Tell him, ask him.” Karl’s advice was wise. “He’s your friend. I’m your friend. That’s what we’re here for.” And Karl took me home and held me, allowed me to sublimate my demons in his capable arms and between his strong thighs.

Sean took a while to reply, and when he did, amidst the support and the cautious love that permeated the email was an odd little line all by itself.
“BTW. Have you been in touch with David’s family yet?”
I closed the email and sat there thinking. I had promised David that I would do that. It was one of the last things we had talked about. I felt a certain guilt about not doing it, but whenever it crossed my mind, I told myself I wasn’t ready yet. Not ready to fulfil that last promise. Not ready to let go. I retreated to the bedroom and pulled out a box from inside the wardrobe. Here were the things I had been planning on taking to David’s mother. Somehow, knowing they were here had kept him closer. There weren’t many things, really. Photos, most of which I had copies of; her letters to David, which he had kept; a present that he had given me to pass on to her shortly before he died, which was still wrapped. I held that in my hands, turned it over. His hands had wrapped this. His fingers had touched mine as he had given it to me. The tears which dripped now onto the tiny package attested to the mess that my life was in. What was wrong with me? I had no right to allow my own pain to keep this from her.

That bastard, Sean! He knew what he was doing. I placed the small packet back into the box, replaced the lid with care, then put the box back into the wardrobe again. It was certainly something I ought to do. And I would do it.

Maybe next school holidays.

Dancing with the daffodils chapter 6/18

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