Remember (Viggorli)

[admirabile.livejournal.com]

Author: puterpatty
Email: PuterPatty@mn.rr.com
Beta: alliwantisanelfforchristmas, provider of summaries as well.
Pairing: VM/OB
Rated: PG-13
Archive: Pella Mellon, OEAM; others email first.
Feedback: Welcomed and cherished, including constructive criticism
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: I don't own them, though I wish I did. I don't know their sexual preferences or activities, though I wish I did.
Summary: Viggo goes to the perfect place of solitude to contemplate his feelings about his sexuality, and comes to a conclusion that leaves him with no more turmoil, no more confusion, no more doubt.

Dedication: For aliaself.



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"Viggo, I’m gay. Well, not gay but bi...but it’s the part of me that likes men that needs to tell you this...."

Christ, I was fucking blithering when I said those words to you, and you must have thought me to be even more of a daft cunt as you stood there listening to me blather on. But you were fantastic, just as you always are. You were kind and patient and understanding, and you let me tell you how I feel about you, how I don’t just look up to you. You didn’t interrupt my incoherent babblings as I told you how it’s more than just admiration of your talent and a desire to learn the craft from you that finds me seeking your company so often. You didn’t blink an eye or scowl in disgust when I told you I wished we were more than just friends.

And when my rambling words finally ceased, you didn’t knock me down on my arse. You didn’t shove me out the door and kick me down the steps. You didn’t turn me away, leaving me feeling like a lost and discarded puppy.

Then again, you didn’t take me into your embrace either. You didn’t lean in to press your lips against mine for a soul-shattering kiss. You didn’t tell me you felt for me what I feel for you.

But your words in response surprised me. I had been waiting to hear, ‘Orlando, I’m straight. I don’t like men, and even if I did, what makes you think I would be attracted to some hyperactive, Mohawk-haired kid twenty years younger than me? Are you fucking nuts?’ I had been dreading something worse. I was afraid you’d hate me.

Instead, you told me you were flattered, but you apologized because you couldn’t return those feelings. You admired my courage and my confidence, appreciated my honesty. You said I’d get over my infatuation in time, and hoped that we could still be good friends.

But I don’t think I ever will get over it, and I don’t know if we can be friends, because I fell in love with you even more then.

~~~

I remember when I first stumbled upon that place, tucked in amongst a smattering of trees. The nearby stream spoke of fresh snowmelt, and the drones and whirrs and scamperings of hidden creatures were welcoming to me. The moon was just a night or two away from being completely full as it cast its fragile light on midnight water and moss-covered rock and bark. Thin grey clouds drifted over that vigilant orb above me.

I remember how that bare branch was illuminated against it at one point, and I grabbed a pencil and my journal from my pack and opened the well-worn book to an empty page, given only the silver light of the moon by which to sketch. When I finished, I settled back down, cushioning my head with my hands as I watched the moon proceed in its journey across the night sky.

I remember listening to the low and steady croaks of the bullfrogs who’d made that stream their residence. I remember the pleasant prickle of cool spring air on my skin. I remember feeling the hard uneven ground pressing against my back as I lay on my old favorite sleeping bag.

It was a quiet place, a calming place. It was the perfect place.

I was content and feeling at peace – at peace with myself for the first time in months. There was no more turmoil, no more confusion, no more doubt. There was no more fear.

I was alone. I had needed to be alone. I needed the solitude only this place could offer.

I needed to sort out feelings and emotions. I needed to come to terms with the fact that I was falling in love with a man. I needed to accept that I had fallen in love with you.

I remember feeling regretful then. Regretful that I hadn’t realized I could possess these feelings before when you so bravely exposed your heart to me months ago. Regretful that our friendship had waned over those months, perhaps because it was hard for you to be in my presence, perhaps because I pushed you away and avoided you despite what I had said.

That’s when I realized I was most regretful that I hadn’t invited you along with me to this place. I discovered that I really wanted to share the beauty of this place with you.

I knew then that this was what I wanted for the rest of my life – to share with you the things that were special to me. I wanted to share my hopes and dreams, my joys and desires, my fears and doubts. And I wanted you to do the same with me.

I remember being anxious then to return to civilization, to see you again and tell you how I felt, and I abandoned that perfect place, hiking long miles back to my car in the haunting darkness. I drove all night, feeling nervous as hell. But I felt no fear.

I remember knocking and then pounding on your door at five in the morning, knowing you’d be pissed as hell at me for waking you so early on a day off. But I didn’t care, because I couldn’t go another minute without you knowing how I felt.

I remember that scowl on your face when you finally opened the door and the way you rubbed your hand back and forth three times over the strip of hair on your skull. I remember the blue plaid cotton pajama pants you were wearing and how the elastic band clung to your slim hips and how your bare feet peeked out of the legs at the bottom.

I remember thinking you were beautiful when waking up from sleep.

You broke me from my trance when you asked me what was wrong and I remember the words came spilling out of my mouth then but I can’t remember what they were.

I remember watching your expression and seeing that scowl disappear only to be replaced by a look of confusion and disbelief. I remember feeling even more nervous then.

Still I felt no fear, nor the slinking promise of regret over this moment, and so I trudged on.

I told you where I was that night, and what I had seen and smelled and heard and felt. I told you what I had wished.

You said you wished that too, and you smiled, and it was the most beautiful smile I had ever seen. I wanted to be wrapped in that smile forever.

You placed your hand on my bearded cheek then, and you drew me to a kiss. I remember becoming lost in that kiss, and I remember wanting never to be found, never to be shown the way out.

But you broke the kiss eventually, and you went back inside, leaving me standing there on your front porch.

And for the first time, I felt fear.

Still I harbored no regrets, because it had been worth it for that smile and that kiss.

I lingered a moment or two, savoring the kiss and tasting you on my lips, reluctant to walk away and leave this moment behind.

Finally, I turned around, sad but at peace, and started to descend the stairs of your stoop. I heard the creak of the door at my back and the click as it was shut.

Then you were there beside me, lacing your fingers in mine, and you told me to show you this place I had found, asked me to share it with you. I looked over at you, saw you’d thrown on jeans and a gray t-shirt and shoved your feet into a pair of tennis shoes. Slung across your shoulder was a backpack with what looked to be more clothing and blankets crammed hastily inside.

We walked to my car together, but it felt like we were floating.

You drove while I slept, not waking me until we were close so I could show you the rest of the way. You parked on the side of the road and we got out, and I led you along the path to that place I’d found. You complained about the endless hike through the rough wilderness, told me I was crazy and called me things like ‘filthy Ranger’ and ‘human scum.’ But I didn’t care, I didn’t mind, because you were there. You were with me.

Finally, I stopped and I stood there where the trees gave way, where the night before I had laid on my favorite sleeping bag and realized that I could feel love for you, that I did feel love for you.

You came and you stood beside me, dropping your backpack with a lazy thump on the ground. You drank in the beauty of this place with me.

I remember feeling you slip your arm through mine, your hand finding my hand and lacing our fingers together again. I remember hearing your voice, soft and liquid smooth, telling me you couldn’t imagine a place more beautiful than this. I shook my head. I told you to wait, told you to wait until the sun set and the moon rose.

And you did.

You waited with me.

We waited together.

We sat there and talked as we waited, sharing more about ourselves with each other in those few moments than we had in all the months previous.

Eventually the sun did set and the moon did rise, and we tore our eyes away from each other for the first time and gazed together up at the sky.

The moon was full, and my soul felt complete.

I was the first to bring my eyes back down to earth, wanting to look upon something more beautiful than that brilliant but unattainable ball in the sky. I wanted to look at you.

And you were beautiful. You were breathtakingly beautiful.

The moon had cast a silver glow on your face, and your smile was luminous. Your dark eyes shone as lucid pools of wonder and awe.

You swept your gaze away from the moon then, and you looked over at me. You smiled. You laughed. You said I’d gone twee, gazing at you like that.

I didn’t reply. I couldn’t find a retort. I blame it on you, because you had stolen all my words away.

You leaned over and you kissed me then for the second time, and that kiss was even better than the first. We fell back onto my sleeping bag and your blankets, our mouths never parting. We made out to a symphony of night nature noise, progressing slowly as we explored each other’s bodies, as we discovered what made the other add their voice to the song around us. It went unspoken but it was our mutual desire to make this moment last, to become timeless, to be ours forever.

And it seemed to become just that, when you finally slid inside me, the brilliance of a full silver moon behind you as you hovered above me.

And that...that was pure beauty captured in a moment, and I was glad for once that I didn’t have my camera, that I couldn’t snap a picture, because I was charged then with keeping that moment sacred only as a memory.

I remember afterwards, when we curled ourselves around each other and pulled your blankets over our naked bodies, I remember I didn’t feel the chill air of the spring night. I didn’t feel turmoil or confusion or doubt – I didn’t feel fear – for how could any of these exist if you were with me?

I remember that you fell asleep first, but I was close to follow. I remember the feeling of damp skin against damp skin. I remember the feeling of your warm breath patting steadily and softly upon my neck.

And for the first time in a long time, I slept a dreamless sleep. Or perhaps I did dream – contented dreams full of love and joy. But if I did dream, I didn’t remember.

I didn’t need to remember.

-end-

Comments

[virginhuntress.livejournal.com]

I love this peace. So sweet, and so peaceful. And the ending line was just perfect!

[admirabile.livejournal.com]

Thanks!

I like the ending too. Viggo's in loooove!

[ladyinsomnia.livejournal.com]

I agree with the comment above. This fic was just so peaceful to read because of the way you worded everything, the way you captured and wrote out and described the peacefulness Viggo felt with the scenery and with Orli. Beautifully done!

MWAH!

[admirabile.livejournal.com]

Thank you for the lovely feedback. This was a peaceful one to write, which I really needed at the time. So glad you enjoyed!