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fellowshippers2003-10-12 11:16 pm
falling-words.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2003-10-12 11:16 pm
FIC: Ten Chances (Orlijah) PG-13
Title: I Only Had Ten Chances to Say I Love You
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
falling_words
Pairing: Orlijah
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: All lies. Don't sue. I'm poor.
Notes: Inspired by Steve Poltz's song "10 Chances." My first piece for the fandom so constructive criticism would be appreciated.
i. the beginning
It starts out as appreciation. When he walks into the room that first day, you see that look on everyone’s face: this kid is gonna be a star. The room changes when he walks in, and everyone perks up a little. But he doesn’t even notice. He slouches into a chair on the far side of the room, not even bothering to take off his sunglasses.
As the first month goes on, you wonder how someone can be so clueless about so much and still retain that cocky, aloof air. That’s when it turns into envy. You watch him scramble across the rocks with unnatural grace while you can’t even make it out of your trailer without tripping over your own feet. He wears that ridiculous mohawk, and no one laughs. If you came in with a haircut like that, you’d never hear the end of it. You watch Liv flirt with him. You watch Viggo take pictures of him. You watch everyone fall over themselves, vying for his attention.
Then it’s a competition. Who’s Orlando hitting town with tonight? Where’s Orlando going to watch videos? Who’s Orlando eating lunch with?
“It’s like we’re back in high school,” Sean says to you one afternoon as Bean and Viggo show off with their swords as Orlando watches.
It’s not like it’s unfounded. You’ve talked with him, you’ve gone out drinking a couple times, and he is a nice guy. He makes you laugh. He’s smart. He’s outrageous, but knows there’s a time and place for it. And when he grins, you can’t help but grin as well.
That’s when it becomes something more.
The others learn that Orlando has the attention span of an infant and give up. But you persist in your own quiet way, inviting him out every once in a while. There’s always a group of you anyway, so it’s no big deal.
But one night, Billy and Dominic head home early, leaving the two of you. And you have your first serious conversation on your own. He asks about your dad since you never talk about him. You explain that whole situation, and he listens calmly, pausing in his drinking to give you his full attention. He tells you about the time he fell and cracked his back, and the doctors said he wouldn’t walk ever again. He stares at the table as he speaks, remembering, and you see the remnants of fear in his eyes.
That’s when you realize it’s all a game, a disguise, and he’s got the entire cast fooled. All the attitude, the self-assuredness, the bravado—it’s not real. He’s just the same as the rest of you. He smiles at you over his drink as if he’s saying, “You’re the only one who knows. Don’t you dare tell the others and ruin my fun.”
You smile back, and with that you think you’re in love.
ii. January
“Happy birthday, Lij,” he tells you, his arm round your shoulders.
You turn to say thanks as he goes to kiss your cheek like he always does, and his lips land a little closer to yours than you’re comfortable with.
He doesn’t even seem to notice. He grins at you, and his eyes are glowing from a night of drinking, dancing, and debauchery.
“Love you, you stupid hobbit.”
You shake your head and mumble, “Crazy elf.”
You would’ve—should’ve—said it back, but you know it won’t mean the same thing coming from you as it does coming from him.
iii. late night
He drives you home after shooting because you’re so tired you can’t see straight. Your limbs ache and shake, and your head is still running laps, lines repeating themselves over and over, notes from Peter that you’re sure you’ll forget, lists of things around the house that you swore would be done by tomorrow.
“Come on, man. Let’s go.”
You’re so tired that you didn’t even notice the jeep has stopped, and Orlando’s opening your door and waiting for you to get out. Your legs seem impossibly heavy, but you manage to swing them out on to the ground and take a couple of steps before wondering if you could just curl up on the grass right there and sleep forever.
Then Orlando’s arm is around your waist, propelling you towards your front door. He fishes your keys out of your pocket and let’s the two of you in. Now that you’re so close to your bed, your body digs up its last bit of energy to stumble towards it and collapse face down into its warmth.
You’re mind starts to whir to a halt, but you’re not asleep. Hands are pulling you back up into a sitting position.
“Leave me alone,” you say, but it sounds more like “Lemoln.”
The hands pull off your jacket and shirt before letting you drop back onto the bed. They pull off your shoes and socks. They unzip your jeans and pull them down your legs. And just when you’re about to complain that you’re cold, they tuck the blankets around you. They run through your hair a couple of times, and then there’s a pair of lips as well, soft against the side of your face.
“Night, Elijah.”
You’re so tired that you don’t over-think the words, you just say them. But instead of “I love you” they sound more like “Hufew,” and Orlando’s already out the door anyway.
iv. that night
He’s sprawled across you and Dom on the couch, claiming you’re more comfortable than the floor. The three of you are watching some terrible made-for-TV action movie. You’d be half asleep if it weren’t for the fact that Orlando’s head is in your lap, and he and Dom keep yelling at the screen.
You’re not comfortable in any sense of the word, and it’s your goddamn house.
“Move,” you tell Orlando.
He sits up and allows you to stand before plopping back down where he was.
You go into the kitchen and open the fridge, but you’re not really looking. You’re getting away from him because he’s driving you insane.
“Hey.”
You jump at the soft voice right behind you and hate that he can sneak up on you.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” you say, turning back to the fridge.
“You’ve just been quiet, that’s all.”
“I’m tired.”
“Maybe I ought to take you to bed, then. What do you think?”
Take you to…wait, what? You spin around and stare at him, eyes wide, mouth working soundlessly. He’s looking at the floor, an embarrassed smile on his face.
“Look, if I’ve been reading things wrong and I just made a complete ass out of myself, could you make it easy and just laugh and walk away?” he says.
You continue to stare.
“You’re not walking away,” he observes after a moment.
You shake your head.
In a heartbeat, he’s there. Lips, hands, warmth, touch, pull. The sounds of a gunfight on the television cover the few soft gasps that escape.
He pulls away suddenly, resting his forehead against yours. “Give me five minutes, and I can get Dom out of here.”
You nod, still dizzy, and he disappears.
Five minutes later, as promised, Dom is gone. He grabs your hips and drags you towards him, a feral grin on his face. Your hands are shaking, but his kisses are welcome.
“Man, that had to be the worst line I’ve ever used in my life,” he laughs against your lips.
But you don’t care because his arms are around you, and if all it took was a cheesy line, you would’ve told him that his pants were like a mirror long ago.
v. after
When you wake up the morning after, you can’t help but marvel at the way the two of you fit, despite the clash of his tall grace and your awkward limbs. Your head rests on his shoulder, your face nuzzled against the side of his neck. His fingers trace lazy patterns on your back as your hips press into his stomach. The sheets are twisted around your legs, but you’re still warm. Safe. Content.
You shift a little, and his arms tighten around you. You smile.
One hand slides up to rub your neck, and for once, everything feels right.
vi. the end
You drive him to the airport. He wanted to take a taxi having already said his goodbyes at the party, but you tell him no, flat out.
“Fine, then. Viggo will take me. You don’t have to…”
But he saw the look on your face, stopped, and smiled a little. “Alright. Fine.”
So now he’s loading his bags into your car, and as much as you tell yourself that everything—the movie, the laughter, the friendship—is really only just getting started, you can’t help but feel like this is the end.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he says when he’s settled into the passenger seat. “You’re the one who insisted on driving me and doing this big teary goodbye thing.”
You’re already starting to regret that decision. Instead of attempting some pathetic reply, you ignore him and drive.
“You can’t have expected this to last forever, Elijah.”
You grip the steering wheel a little tighter.
“The movie. Living out here. This feeling every day like you’re at summer camp or something.” He pauses for a moment, and out of the corner of your eye you see him glance down at his hands. “The two of us.”
You take a couple of deep breaths, and when you speak, you sound much calmer than you feel. “Look, we’re not really dating, so you don’t have to do this whole breaking up thing.”
His voice is barely more than a whisper, and he’s still looking at his hands. “No, I guess not.”
When you get to the airport, he tells you not to park. “I’m just gonna go. We did the goodbye thing last night, remember?”
You nod.
He climbs out, and you watch in the rearview mirror as he pulls his bags from the back. He deposits them on the curb before walking over to your window.
“Thanks for the ride,” he tells you.
“You’re welcome.” The formality of it pains you.
He glances around quickly before sticking his head in the window and kissing you briefly. You stare at him, bewildered.
“Sorry,” he says. “One last time, you know?”
You can’t answer.
“Don’t lose touch, okay?”
And then he’s gone.
vii. winter
You only call him after Dominic tells you he was asking about you. As much as you insist he was just being polite, Dom is adamant.
“Stop acting like a teenager, and just call him. If worse comes to worse you can always have some blazing row over the phone and then you’ll at least have an excuse to get drunk. Really it’s a win-win situation.”
“Or I could skip straight to the drinking,” you point out.
He sighs. “Call him. Tonight. I’m gonna call later and make sure you’ve done it.”
You hang up and stare at your phone as if it will tell you what to do. A good hour later, you go through your programmed numbers trying to find Orlando’s newest mobile. He must’ve gone through at least three during filming; you smile at the memory of him storming on set every other month pissy because he’d left it at some bar.
It takes a few minutes for you to remember that Orlando programmed his last number under “SEX GOD” on your phone. You should change that.
He picks up on the second ring.
“Hey!”
“Hi. Are you busy?”
“For the first time since five this morning, no.” He laughs. “What’s up?”
“Dom held me at gun point and demanded that I call you.”
The conversation goes much easier than you thought it would. He tells you about roles he’s been offered and asks your opinion. You tell him how you’re flying up to Canada in a few weeks to start filming your latest. It’s all just business and idle chitchat until—
“I’m glad you called. I was worried after what happened…and when I didn’t hear from you….we’re still okay, right?”
“Yeah, why wouldn’t we be?”
“Elijah.”
“We’re fine. I wouldn’t have called you if we weren’t fine.”
He let’s out a breath you didn’t know he was holding, and while it makes you smile, your chest gets a little tighter as well.
“Good. I thought maybe after what I said in the car that day... I was trying to say things without thinking about them, and as a result, I think I just screwed things up a lot.”
“Orlando. Forget about it. We’re fine.”
“Really?”
You swallow and close your eyes. “Yeah.”
For some reason your voice isn’t cooperating anymore, and you say goodbye before he has a chance to notice.
viii. Friday night
Your hands fumble with the payphone, and you tell yourself it’s because you’re tired and drunk not because you’re anxious. His voice is only eight thousand fucking digits away. Stupid fucking calling cards.
The automated voice informs you that there’s only one minute left on your card. You feel like an idiot for calling him with it so many times to talk about nothing. But it’s okay because you really only need to say three words to him and then you can go on with your night, with your life.
“Hello?” You can hardly hear him. Wherever he is, he’s not alone.
“Hey, it’s-”
“Elijah! Man, how’ve you been?”
“I’m good. I actually don’t have a lot of time. I’m-”
“Yeah, I’m actually a little occupied myself. Out with people, you know.”
You’re starting to think you shouldn’t have called. You could’ve just waited until morning, until the battery on your cell phone was recharged. You could’ve waited a couple hours until you were back at the hotel. But you’ve already waited too long.
“Yeah, sorry to bug you, but this was kind of important.”
“Hang on, then. I’ll go outside. It’s a madhouse in here. Can barely hear you.”
A few of your precious seconds slip away as he steps out of the bar or party or whatever.
“All right. What’s up, man? You okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I just had something I wanted to tell you.”
“Well, go for it. You have my undivided attention.”
You can hear his smile and wish you could do this face to face with his fingers wound with yours, breathing in his scent, and his voice reaching your ears across inches instead of miles.
“Orlando-”
But your minute is up and the call disconnects.
ix. March
You’re wasting all these words on nonsense. You’re telling him about the movie, about Franka and Mandy. For once he’s the one who can’t get a word in edgewise. As much as you tell yourself to stop, the words rush on, pouring out and melting away before you can decide whether they matter or not.
“I’m having a great time. It’s just not the same, you know? After Rings I feel like nothing will ever measure up again.”
“Then don’t compare them. Just value each for the individual experience. I mean, really, did you get to make out with Blondie in Rings? I think not.”
You grin, and it hurts.
“I miss you,” you tell him, and you could smack yourself for not saying what you mean.
“Elijah? I miss you, too.”
As you hang up, you think he understood somehow.
x. last night
You’re almost asleep. You can taste it. You can feel the numbness settling into your limbs. You’re so close to sleep that when you hear the door to your bedroom open and shut again, you don’t think anything of it. You’re only home, in your own bed, for a couple of weeks; you refuse to be distracted from the comfort of it all.
Two shoes hit the floor. The rustle of cloth. Sudden cold as someone lifts the blankets off you. The mattress dips with extra weight, and you’re awake.
His arms wrap around you, and you realize conjured memories of what he smells like didn’t even come close to the real thing. His lips press against the back of your neck, and his bare chest warms your back.
You turn to look at him, afraid that maybe you did fall asleep. But he’s as real as he’s ever been, dark hair and dark eyes, perfect skin, and two arms that fit perfectly around you.
“How-”
“Hannah. I called her when I landed. I wanted to surprise you..”
“But I thought you were in New York”
“New York wasn’t where I wanted to be.”
The two of you just stare at each other for an eternity, remembering the curve of lips or the smooth expanse of eyelids. His long fingers stroke the side of your face. His eyes are dark in the dim light, but there’s a gleam there that comes from more than just the streetlight shining in your window.
He traces his fingers along the side of your face before leaning in and kissing you.
When the words do come, you aren’t expecting them. You haven’t been repeating them over and over in your head. They come easy and natural, like they’re meant to.
“I love you.”
Author:
falling_wordsPairing: Orlijah
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: All lies. Don't sue. I'm poor.
Notes: Inspired by Steve Poltz's song "10 Chances." My first piece for the fandom so constructive criticism would be appreciated.
i. the beginning
It starts out as appreciation. When he walks into the room that first day, you see that look on everyone’s face: this kid is gonna be a star. The room changes when he walks in, and everyone perks up a little. But he doesn’t even notice. He slouches into a chair on the far side of the room, not even bothering to take off his sunglasses.
As the first month goes on, you wonder how someone can be so clueless about so much and still retain that cocky, aloof air. That’s when it turns into envy. You watch him scramble across the rocks with unnatural grace while you can’t even make it out of your trailer without tripping over your own feet. He wears that ridiculous mohawk, and no one laughs. If you came in with a haircut like that, you’d never hear the end of it. You watch Liv flirt with him. You watch Viggo take pictures of him. You watch everyone fall over themselves, vying for his attention.
Then it’s a competition. Who’s Orlando hitting town with tonight? Where’s Orlando going to watch videos? Who’s Orlando eating lunch with?
“It’s like we’re back in high school,” Sean says to you one afternoon as Bean and Viggo show off with their swords as Orlando watches.
It’s not like it’s unfounded. You’ve talked with him, you’ve gone out drinking a couple times, and he is a nice guy. He makes you laugh. He’s smart. He’s outrageous, but knows there’s a time and place for it. And when he grins, you can’t help but grin as well.
That’s when it becomes something more.
The others learn that Orlando has the attention span of an infant and give up. But you persist in your own quiet way, inviting him out every once in a while. There’s always a group of you anyway, so it’s no big deal.
But one night, Billy and Dominic head home early, leaving the two of you. And you have your first serious conversation on your own. He asks about your dad since you never talk about him. You explain that whole situation, and he listens calmly, pausing in his drinking to give you his full attention. He tells you about the time he fell and cracked his back, and the doctors said he wouldn’t walk ever again. He stares at the table as he speaks, remembering, and you see the remnants of fear in his eyes.
That’s when you realize it’s all a game, a disguise, and he’s got the entire cast fooled. All the attitude, the self-assuredness, the bravado—it’s not real. He’s just the same as the rest of you. He smiles at you over his drink as if he’s saying, “You’re the only one who knows. Don’t you dare tell the others and ruin my fun.”
You smile back, and with that you think you’re in love.
ii. January
“Happy birthday, Lij,” he tells you, his arm round your shoulders.
You turn to say thanks as he goes to kiss your cheek like he always does, and his lips land a little closer to yours than you’re comfortable with.
He doesn’t even seem to notice. He grins at you, and his eyes are glowing from a night of drinking, dancing, and debauchery.
“Love you, you stupid hobbit.”
You shake your head and mumble, “Crazy elf.”
You would’ve—should’ve—said it back, but you know it won’t mean the same thing coming from you as it does coming from him.
iii. late night
He drives you home after shooting because you’re so tired you can’t see straight. Your limbs ache and shake, and your head is still running laps, lines repeating themselves over and over, notes from Peter that you’re sure you’ll forget, lists of things around the house that you swore would be done by tomorrow.
“Come on, man. Let’s go.”
You’re so tired that you didn’t even notice the jeep has stopped, and Orlando’s opening your door and waiting for you to get out. Your legs seem impossibly heavy, but you manage to swing them out on to the ground and take a couple of steps before wondering if you could just curl up on the grass right there and sleep forever.
Then Orlando’s arm is around your waist, propelling you towards your front door. He fishes your keys out of your pocket and let’s the two of you in. Now that you’re so close to your bed, your body digs up its last bit of energy to stumble towards it and collapse face down into its warmth.
You’re mind starts to whir to a halt, but you’re not asleep. Hands are pulling you back up into a sitting position.
“Leave me alone,” you say, but it sounds more like “Lemoln.”
The hands pull off your jacket and shirt before letting you drop back onto the bed. They pull off your shoes and socks. They unzip your jeans and pull them down your legs. And just when you’re about to complain that you’re cold, they tuck the blankets around you. They run through your hair a couple of times, and then there’s a pair of lips as well, soft against the side of your face.
“Night, Elijah.”
You’re so tired that you don’t over-think the words, you just say them. But instead of “I love you” they sound more like “Hufew,” and Orlando’s already out the door anyway.
iv. that night
He’s sprawled across you and Dom on the couch, claiming you’re more comfortable than the floor. The three of you are watching some terrible made-for-TV action movie. You’d be half asleep if it weren’t for the fact that Orlando’s head is in your lap, and he and Dom keep yelling at the screen.
You’re not comfortable in any sense of the word, and it’s your goddamn house.
“Move,” you tell Orlando.
He sits up and allows you to stand before plopping back down where he was.
You go into the kitchen and open the fridge, but you’re not really looking. You’re getting away from him because he’s driving you insane.
“Hey.”
You jump at the soft voice right behind you and hate that he can sneak up on you.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” you say, turning back to the fridge.
“You’ve just been quiet, that’s all.”
“I’m tired.”
“Maybe I ought to take you to bed, then. What do you think?”
Take you to…wait, what? You spin around and stare at him, eyes wide, mouth working soundlessly. He’s looking at the floor, an embarrassed smile on his face.
“Look, if I’ve been reading things wrong and I just made a complete ass out of myself, could you make it easy and just laugh and walk away?” he says.
You continue to stare.
“You’re not walking away,” he observes after a moment.
You shake your head.
In a heartbeat, he’s there. Lips, hands, warmth, touch, pull. The sounds of a gunfight on the television cover the few soft gasps that escape.
He pulls away suddenly, resting his forehead against yours. “Give me five minutes, and I can get Dom out of here.”
You nod, still dizzy, and he disappears.
Five minutes later, as promised, Dom is gone. He grabs your hips and drags you towards him, a feral grin on his face. Your hands are shaking, but his kisses are welcome.
“Man, that had to be the worst line I’ve ever used in my life,” he laughs against your lips.
But you don’t care because his arms are around you, and if all it took was a cheesy line, you would’ve told him that his pants were like a mirror long ago.
v. after
When you wake up the morning after, you can’t help but marvel at the way the two of you fit, despite the clash of his tall grace and your awkward limbs. Your head rests on his shoulder, your face nuzzled against the side of his neck. His fingers trace lazy patterns on your back as your hips press into his stomach. The sheets are twisted around your legs, but you’re still warm. Safe. Content.
You shift a little, and his arms tighten around you. You smile.
One hand slides up to rub your neck, and for once, everything feels right.
vi. the end
You drive him to the airport. He wanted to take a taxi having already said his goodbyes at the party, but you tell him no, flat out.
“Fine, then. Viggo will take me. You don’t have to…”
But he saw the look on your face, stopped, and smiled a little. “Alright. Fine.”
So now he’s loading his bags into your car, and as much as you tell yourself that everything—the movie, the laughter, the friendship—is really only just getting started, you can’t help but feel like this is the end.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he says when he’s settled into the passenger seat. “You’re the one who insisted on driving me and doing this big teary goodbye thing.”
You’re already starting to regret that decision. Instead of attempting some pathetic reply, you ignore him and drive.
“You can’t have expected this to last forever, Elijah.”
You grip the steering wheel a little tighter.
“The movie. Living out here. This feeling every day like you’re at summer camp or something.” He pauses for a moment, and out of the corner of your eye you see him glance down at his hands. “The two of us.”
You take a couple of deep breaths, and when you speak, you sound much calmer than you feel. “Look, we’re not really dating, so you don’t have to do this whole breaking up thing.”
His voice is barely more than a whisper, and he’s still looking at his hands. “No, I guess not.”
When you get to the airport, he tells you not to park. “I’m just gonna go. We did the goodbye thing last night, remember?”
You nod.
He climbs out, and you watch in the rearview mirror as he pulls his bags from the back. He deposits them on the curb before walking over to your window.
“Thanks for the ride,” he tells you.
“You’re welcome.” The formality of it pains you.
He glances around quickly before sticking his head in the window and kissing you briefly. You stare at him, bewildered.
“Sorry,” he says. “One last time, you know?”
You can’t answer.
“Don’t lose touch, okay?”
And then he’s gone.
vii. winter
You only call him after Dominic tells you he was asking about you. As much as you insist he was just being polite, Dom is adamant.
“Stop acting like a teenager, and just call him. If worse comes to worse you can always have some blazing row over the phone and then you’ll at least have an excuse to get drunk. Really it’s a win-win situation.”
“Or I could skip straight to the drinking,” you point out.
He sighs. “Call him. Tonight. I’m gonna call later and make sure you’ve done it.”
You hang up and stare at your phone as if it will tell you what to do. A good hour later, you go through your programmed numbers trying to find Orlando’s newest mobile. He must’ve gone through at least three during filming; you smile at the memory of him storming on set every other month pissy because he’d left it at some bar.
It takes a few minutes for you to remember that Orlando programmed his last number under “SEX GOD” on your phone. You should change that.
He picks up on the second ring.
“Hey!”
“Hi. Are you busy?”
“For the first time since five this morning, no.” He laughs. “What’s up?”
“Dom held me at gun point and demanded that I call you.”
The conversation goes much easier than you thought it would. He tells you about roles he’s been offered and asks your opinion. You tell him how you’re flying up to Canada in a few weeks to start filming your latest. It’s all just business and idle chitchat until—
“I’m glad you called. I was worried after what happened…and when I didn’t hear from you….we’re still okay, right?”
“Yeah, why wouldn’t we be?”
“Elijah.”
“We’re fine. I wouldn’t have called you if we weren’t fine.”
He let’s out a breath you didn’t know he was holding, and while it makes you smile, your chest gets a little tighter as well.
“Good. I thought maybe after what I said in the car that day... I was trying to say things without thinking about them, and as a result, I think I just screwed things up a lot.”
“Orlando. Forget about it. We’re fine.”
“Really?”
You swallow and close your eyes. “Yeah.”
For some reason your voice isn’t cooperating anymore, and you say goodbye before he has a chance to notice.
viii. Friday night
Your hands fumble with the payphone, and you tell yourself it’s because you’re tired and drunk not because you’re anxious. His voice is only eight thousand fucking digits away. Stupid fucking calling cards.
The automated voice informs you that there’s only one minute left on your card. You feel like an idiot for calling him with it so many times to talk about nothing. But it’s okay because you really only need to say three words to him and then you can go on with your night, with your life.
“Hello?” You can hardly hear him. Wherever he is, he’s not alone.
“Hey, it’s-”
“Elijah! Man, how’ve you been?”
“I’m good. I actually don’t have a lot of time. I’m-”
“Yeah, I’m actually a little occupied myself. Out with people, you know.”
You’re starting to think you shouldn’t have called. You could’ve just waited until morning, until the battery on your cell phone was recharged. You could’ve waited a couple hours until you were back at the hotel. But you’ve already waited too long.
“Yeah, sorry to bug you, but this was kind of important.”
“Hang on, then. I’ll go outside. It’s a madhouse in here. Can barely hear you.”
A few of your precious seconds slip away as he steps out of the bar or party or whatever.
“All right. What’s up, man? You okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I just had something I wanted to tell you.”
“Well, go for it. You have my undivided attention.”
You can hear his smile and wish you could do this face to face with his fingers wound with yours, breathing in his scent, and his voice reaching your ears across inches instead of miles.
“Orlando-”
But your minute is up and the call disconnects.
ix. March
You’re wasting all these words on nonsense. You’re telling him about the movie, about Franka and Mandy. For once he’s the one who can’t get a word in edgewise. As much as you tell yourself to stop, the words rush on, pouring out and melting away before you can decide whether they matter or not.
“I’m having a great time. It’s just not the same, you know? After Rings I feel like nothing will ever measure up again.”
“Then don’t compare them. Just value each for the individual experience. I mean, really, did you get to make out with Blondie in Rings? I think not.”
You grin, and it hurts.
“I miss you,” you tell him, and you could smack yourself for not saying what you mean.
“Elijah? I miss you, too.”
As you hang up, you think he understood somehow.
x. last night
You’re almost asleep. You can taste it. You can feel the numbness settling into your limbs. You’re so close to sleep that when you hear the door to your bedroom open and shut again, you don’t think anything of it. You’re only home, in your own bed, for a couple of weeks; you refuse to be distracted from the comfort of it all.
Two shoes hit the floor. The rustle of cloth. Sudden cold as someone lifts the blankets off you. The mattress dips with extra weight, and you’re awake.
His arms wrap around you, and you realize conjured memories of what he smells like didn’t even come close to the real thing. His lips press against the back of your neck, and his bare chest warms your back.
You turn to look at him, afraid that maybe you did fall asleep. But he’s as real as he’s ever been, dark hair and dark eyes, perfect skin, and two arms that fit perfectly around you.
“How-”
“Hannah. I called her when I landed. I wanted to surprise you..”
“But I thought you were in New York”
“New York wasn’t where I wanted to be.”
The two of you just stare at each other for an eternity, remembering the curve of lips or the smooth expanse of eyelids. His long fingers stroke the side of your face. His eyes are dark in the dim light, but there’s a gleam there that comes from more than just the streetlight shining in your window.
He traces his fingers along the side of your face before leaning in and kissing you.
When the words do come, you aren’t expecting them. You haven’t been repeating them over and over in your head. They come easy and natural, like they’re meant to.
“I love you.”
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just perfect.
wow...
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For some reason your voice isn’t cooperating anymore, and you say goodbye before he has a chance to notice.
Dunno why this line really struck me. Maybe because I've been in that same type of position so many times before. But I really liked it; it hit me.
This is really your first lotr rps? Good job!!!! Might I look forward to more from you?
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This is really your first lotr rps? Good job!!!! Might I look forward to more from you?
Heh, not only that, it's my first RPS. I'm a closet RPS-er. It always squicked the hell out of me until I feel in love with the Fellowship. Then I got sucked in. So yeah, I'm still a little apprehensive about this whole thing, so thanks for the encouragement! I have a Billy/Elijah that I've tinkered with for a couple months now. Maybe I'll actually work on it in earnest now.
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this makes my heart ache.
...but in a good way.
Very touching.
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Welcome to Lotrips, enjoy your stay. :)
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and if all it took was a cheesy line, you would’ve told him that his pants were like a mirror long ago.
*giggles*
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This is a lovely fic and I do hope to see more from you!
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its just.. you... shhh.. buh..
FUCKING BRILLIANT!
i'm sorry, that just made me so...guh.
am incoherent.