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fellowshippers2003-10-29 11:47 am
leashy-bebes.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2003-10-29 11:47 am
True Survivor
Title: True Survivor (1/1)
Author: Lyds [![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
leashy_bebes/hated_addiction]
Category: LOTR RPS
Pairing: VM/OB, VM/SB. Implied DM/EW
Rating: R for language, I think.
Notes: Inspired by Elton John's 'I'm Still Standing'. Or more specifically the line 'Feeling like a true survivor, looking like a little kid.' Also, by a line from a Tom Waits song: 'And nothing is the matter, cause I never cry in town.' Ha, okay, maybe I should warn for angst as well.
Feedback: Gratefully received.
"Honey, I'm home," Orlando mumbled to himself, closing the front door quietly behind him. Music was playing softly from upstairs, something he didn't recognise. Following the sound, Orlando came to a halt outside the bedroom. There was no horrible moment of premonition and he pushed the door open, stepping inside. His mouth opened and he started to talk. "Hey, the traffic wasn't too bad so I thought I'd..." His eyes and ears finally caught up with the rest of him, seeing the clothes scattered on the floor [two shirts and two pairs of jeans] and hearing the gasp and muffled curse from the bed where two people lay tangled in the sheets.
His so-called lover and his so-called friend. The self-proclaimed 'art fag' and the rock steady football fan. The king and his steward. A dozen stupid thoughts had time to run through Orlando's mind before his guts filled with ice and his lungs stopped working properly. He was suddenly aware that his mouth was open slightly, his jaw working silently as though he'd been punched in the stomach. He felt awkward and hated himself for it. He felt like he should say something to take the matching looks of guilt and shake off of Viggo and Sean's faces. Instead, he turned sharply and ran from the room.
Wallet, Orlando thought blankly. He'd left all his stuff in the kitchen. That was the first step. Get it and get out before either of them could see him crying. He made it as far as the kitchen table before collapsing into a chair. He stared at his hands to find that they were shaking uncontrollably. He heard footsteps and hurried conversation ['I'll call you as soon as I can. I love you.'] and then the sound of the front door closing. The footsteps had changed direction now and they were coming towards the kitchen.
Launching himself from the chair, Orlando stood, patting his pockets feverishly until he found a packet of cigarettes. Technically, the house was non-smoking. Both he and Viggo tried to give up intermittently so any smoking was done outside. Right now, Orlando reflected, that rule could throw itself out of the highest window it could find. When Viggo entered the room, Orlando had slung his holdall over his shoulder and was heading for the door. He changed course sharply and opened the fridge, simply for want of anything better to do.
"Orli, I'm sorry," Viggo said quietly, staring at the floor. "Honestly. I didn't mean for you to find out this way."
"You didn't mean for me to find out at all, Vig," Orlando snapped, staring at the pint of soymilk inside the fridge door. "Look, most of my personal stuff is in our...the...your bedroom and I don't think I can go in there right now. I'm uh...I'll book into a hotel or something for a while and if you could just box up my stuff then I'll come by in a...in a few...few days and..." Orlando trailed off, tears stinging his eyes.
"Orli, don't. Don't be like this. Listen, can we talk?"
"No," Orlando said flatly. "No, we can't. And I don't want you to call me that anymore."
"Orlando, please. Just hear me out."
"Damnit, Viggo!" Orlando thumped his fist onto the worktop. "I don't want to hear anything you have to say. I moved halfway across the fucking world, I left all my friends, everything I knew behind just to be with you and I find you in bed with Sean and you want me to fucking listen to you?"
"I just want a chance to explain it to you."
"Viggo! I don't want you to explain it to me. What I want is for you to move out of the way of the fucking door so I can get out of here. What I want is for you to put all the stuff that's definitely mine into boxes that I can take away in a few days when I've got my head sorted out. What I want is for you to never have fucking slept with him and what I really don't want is to cry in front of you so will for please for the love of Christ MOVE!"
There was silence in the kitchen, broken only by the harsh sound of Orlando's breathing as his chest rose and fell steeply. Viggo looked at him for a long moment, holding his gaze and then his eyes fell to the floor. He took a step to the side, leaving the doorway clear for Orlando who shouldered past him quickly, slamming the front door as he left. A moment later, there was a jingle as his keys landed on the doormat.
+++
Elijah leapt at Orlando, enveloping him in a huge hug and almost knocking the beer from his hand. Recovering from the initial surprise, Orlando hugged back tightly, unable to avoid laughing at Elijah's joyous reception. Pulling back, Elijah looked up at Orlando, smiling gently. Orlando could see the question coming and spoke quickly to avoid it.
"Dom finally let you out of his sight for a minute?" he asked jokingly.
"Nope." Dom appeared from behind Elijah, wrapping an arm around the smaller man's waist. "How you doing, mate?"
"I'm good," Orlando answered, a bright smile on his face.
"How long has it been now?" Elijah asked carefully.
Two months, three days, five hours and around twenty-seven minutes.
"Couple of months," Orlando shrugged. "It's no big deal. Actually, I found out I pretty much like being single again. I was too young to settle down like that. Also, I can smoke without going outside and freezing my bollocks off," he added flippantly.
"As long as you're okay..." Elijah started. His eyes fixed on something behind Orlando and then narrowed angrily. "Oh, look what the cat dragged in," he hissed.
"Lij, play nice," Dom urged, his words light but his tone serious.
Orlando glanced over his shoulder, already knowing who he would see there. He turned back to Elijah and Dom.
"It's no big deal," he said again. "It's not like I didn't know he'd be here. This is a Rings reunion and he was kind of a central actor." Orlando looked back towards Viggo who was being greeted enthusiastically by various people, all of whom shot Orlando vaguely guilty looks as they did so. Orlando rolled his eyes. "Much as I'd like to stay with my two favourite hobbitses all night, I'm going to go and socialise. I'll catch you guys later." Orlando backed away from Dom and Elijah, bowing extravagantly and blowing kisses. He hadn't gone more than a few steps before Billy, grabbed his arm and spun him around. This time the beer did spill, splashing onto his hand and the cuff of his shirt. Billy looked so pleased to see him that Orlando couldn't really object. He hugged Billy and looked down and then back up again.
"Nice skirt," he said with a wink. Billy punched his arm playfully.
"How are you? Long time no see, huh?" Billy ginned.
"I'm good. Really good, in fact. You?"
"I'm fine. Hey, how's...Kate, was that her name?"
"Oh, that's..." From the corner of his eye, Orlando could see Viggo hugging somebody warmly and could feel the disapproval that other people were radiating. Three guesses who that would be, then. "That's over," Orlando continued, focusing on Billy. "We're still mates, it just didn't work out."
"Orli, I don't mean to be a nosy bastard but how are things between you and Viggo and...and Sean?" Billy asked, almost wincing as he said the names.
"You are a nosy bastard, but I don't mind," Orlando said with the same bright smile that made the girls swoon. "I haven't spoken to either of them in ages but I have no problem with them." He rolled his shoulders in a fluid shrug. "They're my mates and if they make each other happy then it's all good, right?"
Billy looked at Orlando, unable to keep the pride out of his face. The young man who stood before him was so far removed from the one who had called him long distance from L.A., broken and drunk after discovering just how badly he had been betrayed.
"Orli, you're amazing. You know, most people would be so fucking bitter after seeing what you had to see. I mean, Christ, Elijah still won't talk to either of them unless he absolutely has to because of what happened."
"What can I say?" Orlando smirked, spreading his arms. "I'm just that damn good. There's no point in being bitter. I'm better off without someone who's going to treat me that way. It wouldn't have worked out anyway."
"You are truly amazing," Billy repeated, hugging Orlando again.
"I'm a survivor," Orlando said, returning the embrace.
And he looked it. He truly did. Some days, he even felt it. He felt strong and worthwhile and he felt over it. He had thrown himself into his work and into his social life. He had embarked on a short-lived fling with Kate who was a genuinely nice girl. He had read scripts and gone to auditions. He had got himself an apartment on the other side of L.A. and made it into his home. He wore the smile and the sparkling eyes and the perfect skin as comfortably as any costume he'd ever worn for a role in a film.
And if his home was often a mess covered in empty liquor bottles and cigarette packets and photographs of him and Viggo when the world was right; if he had attended every poetry reading and art exhibition he could manage; if he had seen every film that Viggo had been in since they broke up; if he had collected everything that had been published; if he still hid tears every time someone mentioned Sean or Viggo, well who was going to know? Only himself and he wasn't going to tell anyone.
To the rest of the world, Orlando Bloom was a born survivor, a party animal, a ladies and occasionally man's man. That was all that mattered. The mask was intact and it showed no signs of slipping, even when Viggo approached him at the party and started to talk to him without a single mention of Sean and most importantly, without an apology.
The mask was what mattered. Not the lost, confused, hurt little boy that lived underneath in a world where he could numb his brain anyway he wanted, just as long as that pretty mask never slipped.
Fin.
Author: Lyds [
leashy_bebes/hated_addiction]Category: LOTR RPS
Pairing: VM/OB, VM/SB. Implied DM/EW
Rating: R for language, I think.
Notes: Inspired by Elton John's 'I'm Still Standing'. Or more specifically the line 'Feeling like a true survivor, looking like a little kid.' Also, by a line from a Tom Waits song: 'And nothing is the matter, cause I never cry in town.' Ha, okay, maybe I should warn for angst as well.
Feedback: Gratefully received.
"Honey, I'm home," Orlando mumbled to himself, closing the front door quietly behind him. Music was playing softly from upstairs, something he didn't recognise. Following the sound, Orlando came to a halt outside the bedroom. There was no horrible moment of premonition and he pushed the door open, stepping inside. His mouth opened and he started to talk. "Hey, the traffic wasn't too bad so I thought I'd..." His eyes and ears finally caught up with the rest of him, seeing the clothes scattered on the floor [two shirts and two pairs of jeans] and hearing the gasp and muffled curse from the bed where two people lay tangled in the sheets.
His so-called lover and his so-called friend. The self-proclaimed 'art fag' and the rock steady football fan. The king and his steward. A dozen stupid thoughts had time to run through Orlando's mind before his guts filled with ice and his lungs stopped working properly. He was suddenly aware that his mouth was open slightly, his jaw working silently as though he'd been punched in the stomach. He felt awkward and hated himself for it. He felt like he should say something to take the matching looks of guilt and shake off of Viggo and Sean's faces. Instead, he turned sharply and ran from the room.
Wallet, Orlando thought blankly. He'd left all his stuff in the kitchen. That was the first step. Get it and get out before either of them could see him crying. He made it as far as the kitchen table before collapsing into a chair. He stared at his hands to find that they were shaking uncontrollably. He heard footsteps and hurried conversation ['I'll call you as soon as I can. I love you.'] and then the sound of the front door closing. The footsteps had changed direction now and they were coming towards the kitchen.
Launching himself from the chair, Orlando stood, patting his pockets feverishly until he found a packet of cigarettes. Technically, the house was non-smoking. Both he and Viggo tried to give up intermittently so any smoking was done outside. Right now, Orlando reflected, that rule could throw itself out of the highest window it could find. When Viggo entered the room, Orlando had slung his holdall over his shoulder and was heading for the door. He changed course sharply and opened the fridge, simply for want of anything better to do.
"Orli, I'm sorry," Viggo said quietly, staring at the floor. "Honestly. I didn't mean for you to find out this way."
"You didn't mean for me to find out at all, Vig," Orlando snapped, staring at the pint of soymilk inside the fridge door. "Look, most of my personal stuff is in our...the...your bedroom and I don't think I can go in there right now. I'm uh...I'll book into a hotel or something for a while and if you could just box up my stuff then I'll come by in a...in a few...few days and..." Orlando trailed off, tears stinging his eyes.
"Orli, don't. Don't be like this. Listen, can we talk?"
"No," Orlando said flatly. "No, we can't. And I don't want you to call me that anymore."
"Orlando, please. Just hear me out."
"Damnit, Viggo!" Orlando thumped his fist onto the worktop. "I don't want to hear anything you have to say. I moved halfway across the fucking world, I left all my friends, everything I knew behind just to be with you and I find you in bed with Sean and you want me to fucking listen to you?"
"I just want a chance to explain it to you."
"Viggo! I don't want you to explain it to me. What I want is for you to move out of the way of the fucking door so I can get out of here. What I want is for you to put all the stuff that's definitely mine into boxes that I can take away in a few days when I've got my head sorted out. What I want is for you to never have fucking slept with him and what I really don't want is to cry in front of you so will for please for the love of Christ MOVE!"
There was silence in the kitchen, broken only by the harsh sound of Orlando's breathing as his chest rose and fell steeply. Viggo looked at him for a long moment, holding his gaze and then his eyes fell to the floor. He took a step to the side, leaving the doorway clear for Orlando who shouldered past him quickly, slamming the front door as he left. A moment later, there was a jingle as his keys landed on the doormat.
+++
Elijah leapt at Orlando, enveloping him in a huge hug and almost knocking the beer from his hand. Recovering from the initial surprise, Orlando hugged back tightly, unable to avoid laughing at Elijah's joyous reception. Pulling back, Elijah looked up at Orlando, smiling gently. Orlando could see the question coming and spoke quickly to avoid it.
"Dom finally let you out of his sight for a minute?" he asked jokingly.
"Nope." Dom appeared from behind Elijah, wrapping an arm around the smaller man's waist. "How you doing, mate?"
"I'm good," Orlando answered, a bright smile on his face.
"How long has it been now?" Elijah asked carefully.
Two months, three days, five hours and around twenty-seven minutes.
"Couple of months," Orlando shrugged. "It's no big deal. Actually, I found out I pretty much like being single again. I was too young to settle down like that. Also, I can smoke without going outside and freezing my bollocks off," he added flippantly.
"As long as you're okay..." Elijah started. His eyes fixed on something behind Orlando and then narrowed angrily. "Oh, look what the cat dragged in," he hissed.
"Lij, play nice," Dom urged, his words light but his tone serious.
Orlando glanced over his shoulder, already knowing who he would see there. He turned back to Elijah and Dom.
"It's no big deal," he said again. "It's not like I didn't know he'd be here. This is a Rings reunion and he was kind of a central actor." Orlando looked back towards Viggo who was being greeted enthusiastically by various people, all of whom shot Orlando vaguely guilty looks as they did so. Orlando rolled his eyes. "Much as I'd like to stay with my two favourite hobbitses all night, I'm going to go and socialise. I'll catch you guys later." Orlando backed away from Dom and Elijah, bowing extravagantly and blowing kisses. He hadn't gone more than a few steps before Billy, grabbed his arm and spun him around. This time the beer did spill, splashing onto his hand and the cuff of his shirt. Billy looked so pleased to see him that Orlando couldn't really object. He hugged Billy and looked down and then back up again.
"Nice skirt," he said with a wink. Billy punched his arm playfully.
"How are you? Long time no see, huh?" Billy ginned.
"I'm good. Really good, in fact. You?"
"I'm fine. Hey, how's...Kate, was that her name?"
"Oh, that's..." From the corner of his eye, Orlando could see Viggo hugging somebody warmly and could feel the disapproval that other people were radiating. Three guesses who that would be, then. "That's over," Orlando continued, focusing on Billy. "We're still mates, it just didn't work out."
"Orli, I don't mean to be a nosy bastard but how are things between you and Viggo and...and Sean?" Billy asked, almost wincing as he said the names.
"You are a nosy bastard, but I don't mind," Orlando said with the same bright smile that made the girls swoon. "I haven't spoken to either of them in ages but I have no problem with them." He rolled his shoulders in a fluid shrug. "They're my mates and if they make each other happy then it's all good, right?"
Billy looked at Orlando, unable to keep the pride out of his face. The young man who stood before him was so far removed from the one who had called him long distance from L.A., broken and drunk after discovering just how badly he had been betrayed.
"Orli, you're amazing. You know, most people would be so fucking bitter after seeing what you had to see. I mean, Christ, Elijah still won't talk to either of them unless he absolutely has to because of what happened."
"What can I say?" Orlando smirked, spreading his arms. "I'm just that damn good. There's no point in being bitter. I'm better off without someone who's going to treat me that way. It wouldn't have worked out anyway."
"You are truly amazing," Billy repeated, hugging Orlando again.
"I'm a survivor," Orlando said, returning the embrace.
And he looked it. He truly did. Some days, he even felt it. He felt strong and worthwhile and he felt over it. He had thrown himself into his work and into his social life. He had embarked on a short-lived fling with Kate who was a genuinely nice girl. He had read scripts and gone to auditions. He had got himself an apartment on the other side of L.A. and made it into his home. He wore the smile and the sparkling eyes and the perfect skin as comfortably as any costume he'd ever worn for a role in a film.
And if his home was often a mess covered in empty liquor bottles and cigarette packets and photographs of him and Viggo when the world was right; if he had attended every poetry reading and art exhibition he could manage; if he had seen every film that Viggo had been in since they broke up; if he had collected everything that had been published; if he still hid tears every time someone mentioned Sean or Viggo, well who was going to know? Only himself and he wasn't going to tell anyone.
To the rest of the world, Orlando Bloom was a born survivor, a party animal, a ladies and occasionally man's man. That was all that mattered. The mask was intact and it showed no signs of slipping, even when Viggo approached him at the party and started to talk to him without a single mention of Sean and most importantly, without an apology.
The mask was what mattered. Not the lost, confused, hurt little boy that lived underneath in a world where he could numb his brain anyway he wanted, just as long as that pretty mask never slipped.
Fin.