Fic: A Second Once in a Lifetime

[cesi-19.livejournal.com]

Title: A Second Once In A Lifetime
Author: Cesi
Rating: PG13
Pairing: VM/OB
Feedback: I would love to hear your feedback. You can’t go wrong with constructive criticism = )
Disclaimer: Viggo and Orlando do not belong to me. This story is entirely made up and is not meant to offend.
Warning: A few swear words.

Summary: A lost cell phone leads a playwright back to his lost love. Can they write a happy ending to their love story?



A/N: Still trying to get all my stories posted on LJ. This story is probably my most sappy one. Hope you like it anyways = )



A Second Once In A Lifetime




“This place isn’t as peaceful as it used to be,” Viggo said as the waitress placed a fresh basket of breadsticks before him.


“This is peaceful compared to a few weeks ago. Most of the tourists are gone now, but a few still stop by. Is this your first time visiting?”


“Actually I used to live here. But that was years ago. This place changed so much since then.”


“Yup, nearly ten more businesses are squeezed in this tiny town each summer. More competition for this little restaurant of ours…Anyways, what would you like to order sir?”


“Whatever gets on the plate fast.”


“Grilled chicken,” The waitress said, jotting it down, “And drinks?”


“Coffee,” Viggo said promptly, “I have a lot of work ahead of me.”


“Okay…” The waitress said with a raised eyebrow, “Chicken and coffee coming up.”


The waitress left and Viggo began poking the breadsticks absentmindedly with a fork. Maybe coffee was a bad choice. Two days of no sleep, the theatre company breathing down his neck, and returning to his hometown on a whim didn’t exactly mix. And coffee would only make it worse. He snapped the breadstick in frustration as his cell phone rang. He checked the number and ignored it, disappointed that the phone’s battery wasn’t dead yet.


From the table beside him he could hear the wails of children as their parents denied them ice cream, and the certain sound of a napkin holder hitting someone’s foot. The door chimed delightfully as a group of sun burnt tourist entered in and nearly shoved him out from his own chair. They offered no apology and proceeded to bark out everything printed on the menu. Outside the window people littered the streets. Children pressed their sweaty little faces against the shop windows while their parents argued about which tourist attraction—or trap—they would go to next. A few elderly ladies were shopping for tacky shirts with the town’s name printed across it while their poor husbands carried whatever they frivolously bought.


Viggo sighed and went back to turning the breadsticks into crumbs. He was slightly annoyed and mad by what he saw. It seemed like the town suddenly decided to change once he moved out. His peaceful childhood home felt like it became a booming tourist district overnight. Each time he came to visit he found less of his home town and more hotels and business springing out of thin air. His old school was demolished and a new technology inflicted one was built in its place. The peaceful fishing pier was now crammed with yachts. His favorite ice cream shop was now converted into a Starbucks. There was even a new marine research center at the bay, not to mention dozens of tour services. Only a few things remained like the library, post office, and of course the train stations—all protected by law for their historic significance. And the sea. He had to smile at the thought. The beach was still there, just as pristine and beautiful as the day he first met Orlando.


“Fuck,” Viggo mumbled beneath his breath, “Don’t even start thinking about it Mortensen. It’s been three years. Three damn wonderful years and you’re still alive. Just let it go.”


He took out his cell phone and checked the text message that popped on the screen. He cursed when he scanned the twelve unread messages from his publishers and producers that magically appeared in the last hour. He clicked the phone shut and sighed into his hands.


He was fully convinced that writers were really never on vacation, not when publishers and other impatient bigwigs were craving more bestsellers and smash hits. After his last play received offers for movie and T.V adaptations, he worked nonstop. And now when he finally had time to relax, the publishers were demanding another novel—and not just any novel. They wanted (as his agent told him tastefully) a blow out novel to scorch the competition out of the bestseller list. Not to mention several theatre companies were now begging him to write a sequel to his money making play.


Writing was his entire life for the last three years, and it was getting weary. He loved writing as much as he did his own family, but in those three years it didn’t feel the same. Something had changed in his work. No matter how much critics and audiences praised him, it wasn’t good enough. His work lacked the depth and meaning they used to. They were shallow and unfeeling compared to the poems and stories he once wrote. Before, he never ran out of inspiration and energy, now he had to beat the creativity out. Fuck, first the town changed and now his writing…nothing was the same…not since he decided to be a coward, not since he left—


“Orlando?”


Viggo stood up from his seat and rushed outside, nearly tripping over the waitress who had his order. It was him. It had to be. And he was quickly going inside an old blue car.


“Orlando!” Viggo stepped out of the restaurant just in time to see Orlando’s car enter into the main road.


“Wait!” Viggo shouted as the car disappeared from sight. He was out of breath, and it wasn’t from his run. He went over to the empty parking space and cursed himself. Orlando was right there…right outside, not even a hundred feet away and he missed him by seconds.


“Mister, you alright?”


Viggo turned to see the waitress running towards him.


“You’re out of breath, is everything okay?”


“Yes…I just…I’ll be fine.” Viggo said, his eyes still scanning the streets, hoping that Orlando’s car would magically reappear again.


“You sure?” She reached out when he tried to get closer to the road, “Sir?”


“Yes, yes, I’m just fine.” Viggo brushed her away, “I—I have to go. How much for the food?”


“Eight fifty.” She said. He opened his wallet and handed her a twenty.


“Keep the rest. I’m sorry for the trouble.” He said. She handed him the food she so cleverly covered with two paper plates. He turned to the road once more and signaled for a cab. A white cab sporting the name of a tour agency pulled over.


“Your phone!” The waitress called out before the cab could leave. She handed Viggo the device. “You must have dropped it.”


He gave her a thankful smile and waved goodbye. The cab entered into the street and headed straight for the quiet little hotel Viggo choose to stay in for the next week. Suddenly, the cab exploded with Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony . The cell phone jumped from his hands and tumbled into the dark depths of the cab. Just as he was ready to reach for it, a familiar buzz vibrated in the pocket of his jacket.


“What?” He searched his pocket and pulled out his shaking phone that flashed yet another message. He bent down and began to pat the floor for the phone the lady handed to him, feeling like an idiot for not noticing the difference sooner.


He finally felt something that resembled a phone and brought it up to light. It was small, sleek, and dark blue. He flipped it open.


Orlando’s face smiled brilliantly at him from the screen.




**************




“Crap, crap, crap, crap…it’s all nothing but crap. Why am I writing crap?” Viggo asked wearily as he tossed the outline into the overstuffed bin.


With one hand supporting his tired head and the other one bracing a stubborn pen, he began his fourth outline. The paper stayed at the desk for a few good minutes before it joined the other three flops. His head slowly sank until it rested against the table. It was twelve midnight and he was exhausted. His hopes for inspiration were dashed as his notebook grew thinner and the pen’s ink faded into grey. He closed his eyes for a moment, hoping that the laws of caffeine would somehow not apply to him. No use. He was tired, frustrated, confused and wide awake in the dead of night.


He dropped the pen, closed the notebook and moved to the bed. The clock was so conveniently placed directly opposite him, and it stared blankly at him, its hands ticking so very, very, very, slowly. Groaning, he grabbed one of the pillows and turned to his side only to be greeted by the red numbers on the alarm clock. He flipped to his other side and hugged the pillow, burying his frustrated screams into bed. When he was done, he glanced at the nearby table. The moonlight shone reverently on Orlando’s phone, as if it was a rare and precious artifact some hero from a myth would kill for.


“Too much coffee,” Viggo mumbled meaninglessly as the temptation overcame his boredom, “I had too much coffee…”


What excess caffeine had to do with snooping through an ex-boyfriend’s phone, heaven only knows. But Viggo took the phone anyways. He hesitated when he thought about what Orlando might do if he found out. The scene played out in his head like it already happened. Orlando would certainly try to snatch the phone away, they would certainly stumble and fight all the way to their bedroom where the argument would certainly be followed by a long night of glorious, mind blowing—


“For fuck’s sake. Get over it. Just open the damn phone, tell him you have his missing cell, and leave it somewhere for him to pick up.” Viggo told himself calmly as he tried to fight images away. With a flick of his thumb he flipped the phone open to see Orlando’s smile beaming at him once more. It might have been a mix effect of coffee, insomnia, and writer’s block…or it could have been three years worth of longing finally bursting out…whatever the reason, Orlando looked out right gorgeous.


He had that silly, playful smile that often greeted Viggo after he returned home from work. He had the same dark brown eyes that could shine with child-like innocence one minute only to glow with sinful sensuality in the next. The short, dark hair grew into heavy curls that framed his face. It must have been windy during the picture; some of the strands were tossed and blown to one side and it made him look incredibly young.


He reluctantly pressed the menu button and the picture was replaced with various options. Games, music, IM, recent calls, contacts…He selected the list feature and scrolled through the names and numbers. The hospital, a few names he didn’t recognize, a few restaurants, and even the local vet were listed.


“Davenport Railroad Tours,” Viggo read from the list. He went back to the cell’s wallpaper to stare at Orlando’s picture again. He wore a green and white shirt and his name was embroidered in tiny print right below the Davenport Station Logo. He went back to the contact list and hit the call button.


“Hello. You have reached the Davenport Railroad Tours office. We offer the finest railroad rides through historical Davenport. And we proudly guarantee a peaceful and family fun day with every tour package we offer. Please leave your message and number and we’ll return your call promptly. Thank you and have a— ”


Viggo pressed the end call button and killed the overly cheery voice. He went back to Orlando’s picture with a critical eye. That had to be a uniform of some sort, Orlando wouldn’t wear such a thing if he had a choice…and he always had a strange fascination with history…he could be working as a tour guide.


He returned to the contact list and his heart leapt when he saw the number highlighted on the screen. It was Orlando’s old number…their old number. He scrolled down, feeling suddenly overwhelmed with nervous anxiety. The list repeated itself and their old number was highlighted again.


“Just tell him you have his cell phone and that you want to give it back,” Viggo encouraged himself as he slowly pressed the green call button, “It’s just a matter of returning a phone to an ex you were supposed to marry. Nothing more.”


“Hey. This is Orli, I’m obviously not here right now so lea—”


“Damn it,” Viggo clicked the phone shut before the message even ended.


It was three years since he heard that voice, and it still did things to him. He looked at the blue phone resting in his hands and cursed himself. It was just a voice, a simple message on their—Orlando’s answering machine. He felt a tug of hurt when he realized that Orlando erased the greeting they recorded together. He felt even guiltier for possibly waking Orlando from his rest. It was something that Viggo couldn’t really understand himself, but he adored watching Orlando sleep—the way he would breathe slowly and deeply, how their arms and legs tangled around each other, and the way their bodies never ventured far from each other until they woke.


Viggo flipped the phone open and stared at the picture once more. Curiously, he went to the menu and selected the picture option. Dozens of tiny little previews appeared on the screen.


Viggo laughed as he inspected each picture. Orlando was doing all sorts of crazy and outlandish things— jumping from a short cliff into the ocean, lying on the closed railroad tracks with a train replica roaring towards him, climbing on a tree with no shoes, baking cookies with his dog, hanging from the monkey bars at the local parks…and of course posing in rather suggestive manners.


“Still a camera whore,”


And Viggo knew he was to blame. He loved taking pictures of Orlando whenever and wherever he had the chance…in the park, the beach, the front porch, the shower, the bed, during breakfast, lunch, after dinner, before bedtime, after love making…


A black and white shot of Orlando came next, and it was obvious he took it himself. The pic was off center and titled to the side, but his smile still peeked through. The one after that was a picture of food, no surprise there. Orlando could eat a whole cow and still be thin and hungry. Viggo’s amused smile was swept off his face with the following shot.


His ex was at the seashore, his hair sprinkled with water and sand. Beside him, a rugged man laughed with arms wrapped around Orlando’s waist. Viggo lasted for about five seconds before he buried the next button into the phone. The strange man was still there, only this time there were others as well, both men and women, and all very young. Orlando was at the very center with that dog of his, a camera in his hands. Viggo quickly went to the next shot, which was tamer than anything else he saw so far. Orlando wasn’t even smiling in this one, he just looked straight at the camera with his arms around a man and a woman, all of them sporting the same uniform. The next shot that came up was silly, Orlando was standing at the threshold of the train doors, his head thrown back and his body arching in a playful tease. After that there was a shot of him waving happily from the open windows, his mop of curly hair blown by the wind. In the final pic Orlando was leaning against the train doors, his lips puckered as he blew a flying kiss to the camera.


Viggo stared at the picture, those lovely brown eyes shining brightly at him. Suddenly he didn’t want to see anymore. He wasn’t even sure if he should contact Orlando anymore. Maybe it was better if they stayed this way. Judging from the pics, Orlando was already happy and well…and that’s the reason why he left in the first place…for him to live a good life. A sad smile crossed his face, imagining that the flying kiss flew right from the phone to him.


“Three years babe, and you still got me,” Viggo confessed softly, “I was right. See? You’re better off without me.”


Viggo fumbled with phone, unsure of what to do. He could shut the phone and leave it at the train station for Orlando to pick up. Or he could meet him face to face and finally end his three long years of misery and uncertainty.


“Misery,” Viggo sighed.


In spite of his success and fame he felt a heavy loss within his heart. What seemed like the right decision all those years ago now felt like a horrendous mistake. Somehow, seeing Orlando’s smile was more wondrous than any praise or award he received. All at once the past three years felt like a complete waste of time. Writing for people who didn’t inspire him, making up happy endings and wishing they were really his…it was all a waste of time. He poured three years of his life into fantasy and fiction…three years that should have gone to creating his own love story with the man he loved.


But it didn’t really matter now. Orlando was happy all by himself…he wouldn’t want an old ex barging into his picture-perfect life. Even if Viggo did beg him to take him back, why would he ever say yes? In his frustration, Viggo accidently pressed the key and an old picture took Orlando’s place.


It was the only picture without a face. An elegant tree stood proudly by the seaside, the initials VM/OB etched deep into its bark. From the very bottom of the crudely craved initials, two hands were intertwined.


“I took this shot,” Viggo whispered as he looked closer at the picture, “I carved our initials there. What’s this doing in his cell?”


The next picture slid on screen. Viggo was struck silent as he saw his own face looking back at him, young and full of restless energy. Orlando’s arms were wrapped around his neck, those brilliant eyes looking at him both with admiration and playfulness. Another picture had them in a boat in the middle of the sea, Orlando reaching desperately for a lifesaver after his dog accidently pushed him overboard. There was another shot of Orlando, drenched from the water, huddling beside Viggo as they laughed. There was a shot of that disastrous camping trip where a very hungry bear decided to ravage their site…fortunately due to sudden rigorous (and intimate) activities on the hiking trail they missed being dinner by a matter of minutes.


And then there was the classic shot of Orlando sleeping soundly, his body wrapped in disheveled sheets. Viggo took that picture after an unforgettable night of love making that nearly seared their brains. He smiled, they had other pictures like it…but this one was different. This one was taken before Orlando first said “I Love You.” Orlando had woken from the camera flash and looked him in the eyes, kissed him softly, and said those three words.


Viggo traced the angelic image on the screen. There was a tug of regret and sadness in his heart. He should have told Orlando the truth, he should have said how much he loved him…but he didn’t…he just smiled and lured his lover back to sleep.


The next picture was taken on a moonlight night during autumn. Orlando’s face was glowing with happiness, and Viggo could almost hear his laughter through the image. They were locked in a tight embrace, their lips just a breath away from meeting. Viggo couldn’t believe it, after everything that happened between them, Orlando still kept this…out of all the pictures in the fucking world, he kept this one...taken on the night they were engaged.


The picture faded to black and a charming little tune played as “Goodbye” flashed on the screen.


“Not now,” Viggo dashed for his cell phone charger and slammed it into the outlet, “Come on…”


After twenty minutes of jabbing, twisting, and cramming Orlando’s phone into the mismatched charger he finally gave up. The phone was dead.




*****************




“Davenport Railroad Tours,” The hotel receptionist handed him a booklet with an old steam engine on the front, “They just started a year ago, but they’re already the best reviewed tour. I haven’t heard a single complaint from any of our guests about them. It’s about an hour away and the last tour starts at about five. You’ll probably need to leave right away if you plan on going. Would like me to send a cab for you sir?”


“Yes,” Viggo said. As he flipped through the brochure, he noticed that the guides wore the same uniform Orlando and his friends sported. He guessed right then…if he wanted to reclaim what foolishly left behind he’d have to meet Orlando face to face. There would be no turning back once they saw each other again.


“The cab will be here in ten minutes sir,”


“Thank you. I’ll just wait outside.” He nodded goodbye and went out, Orlando’s dead phone still in his hands.


He woke up that morning at almost twelve noon and didn’t get out of bed until three. His thoughts were filled with the possibility of returning to Orlando again, but those hopes were dashed as easily as they came. Would he really want to see the man who left him a day before their wedding day? And even if Orlando did listen to him…what could he say? Sorry? Forgive me? I was a fucking idiot for leaving you, please take me back?


Before long the cab came and took him away to the famous Train Station. He fumbled with the phone in his hands, trying to come up with the right words to say. For a man who man a living from words, the conversation should have come easily to him, like the dialogue exchanged in his plays…only this wasn’t a play and there would be no retakes. Once the words came out, he could never take them back…and what if he said the wrong thing? What if Orlando screamed and cursed him? Or worse…what if he ignored him completely?


Maybe he should let the past go…maybe it would hurt less if he just didn’t see Orlando again. He shook his head and imagined Orlando’s face. Even if it did hurt, the pain would be better than the regret and loneness he would face.


The trip to the station went by anxiously fast. Before he knew it the cab was driving away and he was standing by the steps leading towards the old fashioned ticket stand. A whistle blew and steam puffed away as a train full of tourists began its journey through scenic Davenport. Around him, employees and visitors alike swarmed busily around. The air was filled with the strange aroma of popcorn and candy, and the constant cries of parents and their uncontrollable children. He found a place in line and purchased the last remaining tour that day. The ticket seller was a cheery young girl, and Viggo smiled politely when he realized that it was her voice on the answering machine the other night. For a second he wanted to ask for Orlando, but she quickly called the next person in line with such a strained smile that his feet lead him away by their own accord.


He found a seat, a wooden bench, and began to scan the crowd in search of the familiar face. He saw a chubby kid crying over a spilled ice cream cone, a few fussy mothers, a group of elderly folk browsing through the shop and a bundle of children stuffing their faces with sticky caramel apples. No sign of his angel, not even the slightest glimpse of unruly curls.


“Ladies and gentlemen, we are now boarding the five o’clock tour. Please have your tickets ready to present to the porter. Your journey will begin in fifteen minutes. Thank you and have a pleasant trip.”


“Where are you?” Viggo stood up from his seat and began scanning the crowd more thoroughly, “Don’t tell me you’re not working today…”


His heart sank at the thought. He came this far…this close to telling Orlando he was wrong for leaving…


He searched the station more intently than before. Up the stairs, downs the stairs, in the restrooms, the shops, the café’, back at the ticket booth…no matter where he went he got the same disappointing result. Nothing.


“Ladies and gentlemen, please board the train for the five o’clock tour. Our guides will be there shortly to accompany you in your trip. This is the last call for passengers. Thank you.”


Viggo glanced back his train. The porter was assisting the last few guests inside, and the guide was already on her way over. He scanned the crowd once more time, his hopes rapidly dying with each disappointing second. He heard the whistle from the train, and saw the steam puffing into the cold air. He reached for his wallet to draw the ticket out.


He kept fumbling around his coat pockets even when dreaded realization crept inside him. He lost his ticket…the ticket he placed inside his wallet…he lost his fucking wallet!


“Shit,” Viggo ran in circles from where he stood, ducking his head down and moving side to side, desperately hoping that the wallet would magically materialize if he strained his eyes hard enough. This was just the perfect end to a fabulously fucked up day. He failed to see Orlando, he lost the chance of ever getting back the love of his life, and now he lost his wallet!


There was only forty dollars in there… that wasn’t much of a loss. But the driver’s license, credit cards, hotel key card, checkbook, and maybe even his social security card—


He gripped his hair and cursed frantically. All he had now was a dead cell phone. How was going to get back with no cab fare, no I.D, no hotel key…


“How many times have I told you not to carry your social number around?”


“Hey,” Viggo whispered weakly as his eyes drowned in those brown depths. Orlando stared at him blankly, his face devoid of any emotion. The whistle from the train blew again. Slowly Orlando reached out, the missing wallet in his hand.


“You’re lucky I found it,” Orlando said simply, slipping his hand away before Viggo touch him.


“Um…thanks,” Viggo said with a soft smile.


“I—it was nice seeing you again,” Orlando said, and Viggo could have sworn there was sudden sadness in his eyes, “I have to go—bye.”


“Wait,” Viggo called out. Orlando snatched his hand away.


“Your phone…you must have dropped it…I…I wanted to return it,”


Without another word Orlando reached out for his phone, but instead of letting go, Viggo quickly took Orlando’s hands into his own.


“We need to talk,”


“Will you let go of me?” Orlando demanded, trying to break free, “Let go before I call security!”


“I just want to talk. Is that too much?”


“After three fucking years you suddenly show up to talk?” Orlando snapped as he pulled away from Viggo’s grip, “Why…those high class city boys no good for you? Came back for old reliable?”


“Would you just listen to me?”


“Don’t touch me…don’t you dare come any closer, you fucking bastard. I’m warning you—”


The train whistled again. A red haired lady waved and called out Orlando’s name.


“I have to get to work,” Orlando said weakly. He ran straight for the train, quickly brushing past the porter. Viggo followed behind his trail, tossing the wrinkled ticket at the bewildered porter’s chest.


“Orlando, just listen—” Viggo pleaded as he took the vacant beside him in the front row. Orlando turned away from him and looked out the window.


“Welcome to Davenport Station. Today we’ll be taking the scenic route that runs across the beautiful stretch of beach famous for its hidden coves rumored to be filled with pirate treasure.” The guide said cheerfully as the train jolted to life, “Please make sure that your hands…and heads…are all in the train as we go through our journey. Thank you. This station was one of first railroad stations built in the east coast. In the 1800’s, the station was…”


“Can you at least look at me?” Viggo whispered earnestly, “Say something. Curse, shout, call me a bastard—but talk to me, babe—”


“I hate that nickname. Do I look like a fucking baby to you?” Orlando hissed carefully beneath his breath, “Just shut up before you ruin the ride for everyone else.”


“You loved that nickname!”


“Yes, when I was a stupid kid who thought you were the greatest thing on earth.”


“I’m trying to talk things out with you—”


“There’s nothing for us to talk about. You made that very clear.”


“I’m sorry…Orlando…”


“Bullshit,” Orlando snapped, “You and your damn promises …all nothing but fucking bullshit.”


“Didn’t you hear what I said? I said I was sorry!”


“Why did you leave me?” Orlando cried out, he turned to face Viggo, his face trembling, “It was the night before our wedding and you…”


He bit his lip, trying to fight against the emotions he held back for three years. He couldn’t let Viggo see him like this…he couldn’t be a weak, stupid fool again...it hurt him too much the last time…


“I thought it was the right choice. I only did what I felt was right.”


“You proposed to me…and then you left me. You honestly thought that was right?”


“You were too young. You were only twenty… you weren’t ready.”


“Who gave you the ability to know when I’m ready or not?” Orlando demanded, “Viggo, you’re not me. Only I can tell if I’m ready or not, and I was more than ready! When you proposed…I couldn’t believe it. My entire world revolved around you and when you asked me…I was blown away. I was so happy Viggo…I thought you felt the same…”


“I did,” Viggo said urgently.


“But you left before the day came…” Orlando nearly choked as he said the words, “All you gave me was a…a fucking note saying that we couldn’t go through with it.”


“Because you didn’t know what you were getting into!”


“My family disowned me for saying yes to your proposal…even when they begged me to leave you I didn’t…Viggo, I knew exactly what I was getting into…and I still chose you.”


“That’s exactly why I couldn’t go through with it,” Viggo tried to explain, “Your family knew you had so much ahead of you. Opportunities practically fell at your feet. They had high hopes for you…and I knew that if we married you’d lose all of it—”


“Just like you would lose your chance at fame,” Orlando’s eyes were barely withholding his tears.


“It’s not like that—”


“Of course it is! You keep saying that I was unprepared…but the truth is, you’re the one who wasn’t ready! You were afraid of what I might do to your perfect image…I’m right aren’t I?” Orlando said cruelly, “You were ashamed of me, and yourself…you cared more about your career than me…”


“What are you saying?” Viggo asked, “You know that isn’t true.”


“That story you first submitted Viggo,” Orlando said softly, “It meant a lot to me…because it was our story. Yours and mine…from our first meeting to all the shit we had to go through to be together…It was our story…but you completely took me out and put some blonde haired, blue eyed chick in my place…Do you have any idea how fucking hurt I was? I didn’t say anything about it though. They loved it …you finally made a name for yourself and I didn’t want to take that from you…I just never expected you to leave me for good…I really, really loved you…I thought you loved me too…”


“You never told me any of this before,” Viggo said, astonished that Orlando would keep something like this from him, “And I did love you...with all my heart.”


“Well you did a splendid job of showing it didn’t you?” Orlando whispered bitterly.


“I’m sorry…God knows I am...I’m so sorry…” Viggo begged, his hands reaching out to touch the tear that ran down Orlando’s face.


“Don’t be.” Orlando pushed his hand away, more tears following the first, “You’re not the first or last one to leave me…but I’m still breathing, I’m still alive…and if I can recover from you, I can recover from anything.”


“But you haven’t.” Viggo protested, taking the phone from Orlando’s hands. He held it up like a lawyer with hard hitting evidence, “You still have our pictures…the ones I took!”


Orlando’s face grew pale, and he snatched the phone back. The next second, Viggo drew back as Orlando lashed out at him with furry.


“You looked in my phone? At the pictures? Those were private, you had no right—”


“I’m telling the truth aren’t I? And if you’ve forgotten, we took those pictures years ago, what are they doing in your phone?”


“It’s none of your business! Why should you care if do carry those pictures?”


“You didn’t answer my damn question. What are my pictures doing in your phone?”


“Those are mine too…they were ours,” Orlando’s voice faltered, wiping the tears from his face, “Viggo please…just get the fuck away before you hurt me again…"


“I was an idiot,” Viggo said as he gently drew the hair from Orlando’s face, “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I honestly thought it was best if we ended our relationship. I would have gotten in your way. I didn’t want to ruin your future.”


Orlando didn’t pull away from the tender touch. Viggo felt himself tremble as fresh tears poured out.


“Your self sacrifice didn’t do much good,” Orlando sobbed, “When you left me, I felt like that was it…I really thought my life was over, or at least that it came to a screeching halt…The only future I saw was with you…But you took that away from me…”


“You never told me,” Viggo said softly, “I didn’t know—”


“It won’t do any good now.” Orlando pulled away from him, “You can’t bring back those years…”


“But I can give the ones still to come,” Viggo said. He took his hand gently, “I know it’s three years overdue…but you have to believe me, I’m sorry. Orlando I lo—”


“Sir, I would appreciate it if personal issues were saved until after the tour.” The lady guide blared through the mike, “For the sake of the other guests, sir.”


Orlando blushed when dozens of wide eyes stared back at him, their mouths agape with shock. He quickly dried his tears as best as he could, stood up and took the mike from his annoyed co-worker.


“Um…I apologize for the disturbance,” Orlando began weakly, trying to regain some control over his voice. The train gave a short jolt and everyone yelped as they neared a cliff overlooking the seashore. He breathed deeply and said the first fact that came to his mind, hoping that the tourists wouldn’t remember the details of his drama inflicted life.


“The stretch of beach coming up to your right is called Galleon Beach. During the revolutionary war, it was used as a smuggling hot spot. Now, the beach is used by the Davenport Marine Research Center for their—Viggo! What the hell is wrong with you? Give me back the mike!”


“I’m sorry ladies and gentlemen. You’ll get your tour, but I need to talk things out with him first. It’s an emergency.” Viggo explained through the mike, his voice filling the entire train car.


“I’m going to be fired if you don’t stop,” Orlando snapped, “What are you trying to do?”


“I want you back,” Viggo shouted, the mike intensifying his plea, “You were right…I was wrong. Take me back…”


“This isn’t permitted,” The other guide fumed, “Guests are not allowed to use the mike. When this train gets back to the station sir—”


“Sit down,” Viggo ordered. She promptly obeyed, her pale hands folded across her lap.


“Did you just take this train entire train hostage?” A little girl asked innocently from the third row, “That’s really weird mister.”


“For goodness sake Viggo, these people paid for a tour, not to see a lunatic begging for his—for his ex-boyfriend.” Orlando cried in frustration.


“A tour?” Viggo stuck his head out from one of the windows and drew back inside once he saw the beach mere seconds away. He turned to his hostages, his face wild and almost maddening with desperation, “They want a tour, alright then…I’ll give them a tour.”


“What are you doing?” Orlando asked fearfully as a playful smile crossed Viggo’s face.


“Ladies and gentlemen, on this very beach I first met the love of my life.” Viggo began. To Orlando’s humiliation and horror he began to point out where they first kissed, their first date, their first three run-ins with the law. The guests and his co-worker all stared at him with disbelief, some even with disgust, and most of them with surprise and curiosity.


“Coming up is the fishing pier where Orlando and I were banned for two years after we managed to capsize two boats that were perfected docked in place. And right beside it is the restaurant where we both forgot to bring our wallets and ended up washing dishes to pay off the bill. And if you look way out into the ocean, there’s the light house where I was stranded after Orlando accidently knocked me from the boat and speed off into the sunset. These waters are also known for a variety of marine life, including sharks…”


“Viggo, stop this,” Orlando begged, “What are you trying to do?”


“If you look to your left, you can see an old road that leads to the next town.” Viggo laughed and Orlando’s face drained once he realized what his former lover intended.


“Don’t you dare,” Orlando warned.


“We were speeding on that road one night…thirty miles over the limit. We had three police cars chasing after us in that tiny road and we were scared like hell.”


A mother gasped and clapped her hands over her son’s innocent ears.


“Did you get caught?” A teenage girl asked eagerly.


“Yes, but we tried to get out of it. Orlando had a great idea. He stuffed his shirt with extra clothes and pretended to be a pregnant woman in the middle of labor.”


“So they didn’t arrest you?” Another guest asked, impressed.


“Not only did they apologize, they personally escorted us to the hospital…”


Orlando’s mouth grew wide with disbelief, his eyes burning with rage. Viggo smiled apologetically and hoped for the best. The train suddenly erupted into a fit of questions, hands waving madly in the air.


“Yes,” Viggo pointed to an elderly woman.


“Where the cops drunk or something?” The lady asked, her thick glasses nearly falling off, “How’d you ever convince them he was a woman in the first place?”


The crowd grew quiet and they strained closer to hear.


“Well…” Viggo answered carefully, hoping that it wouldn’t ruin his chances of getting Orlando back, “It was Halloween and—”


“And Halloween is celebrated during the town’s Fall Festival,” Orlando ripped the mike away, his face flushed and his heart racing rapidly, “The Festival is the one of the largest annual gatherings in this town and—yes?”


He pointed to the rugged looking man with three kids and a wife. If there was anyone in this train who could possibly change the subject, it would definitely be him…


“How did you first meet?” The man asked loudly. He wasn’t even joking, he asked seriously and he was waiting patiently.


Orlando was too stunned to speak. Viggo took the mike and answered clearly.


“I was sleeping in the beach one afternoon. I was minding my own business when a dog came over and pissed on me. I tried to kill the thing, but then the owner came and stopped me. We had a nasty fight, one thing lead to another, five hours and several drinks later we ended up—”


“That’s enough,” Orlando said, “And that’s not even how it really happened. Sidi never did anything to you!”


“You know, on our anniversary I carved our initials on the tree I was sleeping under, right at the spot where we first met.” Viggo said to the audience softly, “We went there every anniversary since…at least we used to...”


“Is it still there? Can we go see it?” A little girl asked excitedly. Orlando smiled sadly and pointed to the large white and blue building sticking out of the sand.


“They tore down those trees to build some new tourist trap,” Orlando explained. A few disappointed moans came from the crowd, and even one or two sincere “sorry”s.


“But I still have the carving,” Viggo said suddenly. All eyes turned to him.


“I was visiting town when they were ready to tear the trees down. I ripped the bark with our initials right off the tree and bronzed it…it’s sitting in my office back home.”


“You’re insane…” Orlando whispered in disbelief, “You’re completely insane…”


“He’s in love!” A passenger cried out suddenly, springing from her seat, “Can’t you see? For goodness sake boy, he’s making a damn fool of himself just to get you back!”


The train rumbled and jumped sharply as they turned away from the beach. There a quick jolt and passengers tumbled from their seats. Viggo caught Orlando before he could fall. There was an awkward silence as they stared at each other, broken only by the sound of impatient hands.


“Yes,” Viggo said softly to the girl with raised hands.


“Why did you leave him in the first place?”


Viggo’s heart raced at the heat of Orlando’s body so close against his own. He looked into his eyes, deep with regret and longing…and if he wasn’t mistaken…love.


“I was an idiot…I wasn’t ready.” Viggo answered, pulling Orlando closer to him. All eyes were fixed on them, every breath held still for anything that might happen, “But I’m ready now…and I want him to know that I still love him, and that I’ll do anything…even kidnap a train load of tourists…just to get him back.”


The crowd stood up and leaned forward to see Viggo drop to his knees before Orlando.


“Please get up…this is embarrassing,” Orlando asked weakly as Viggo’s hands wrapped tightly around his own.


“So you’re concerned about image now? I thought that didn’t matter to you.” Viggo said, “I’m staying here until you give an answer.”


“What answer?” Orlando whispered fearfully, he gasped when lips breathed kisses into his hands.


“There are only two possible endings to this story. Either you say no and sentence me to a worthless life, or you can say yes and allow me to make up for my mistakes…you can give us a second once in a lifetime.”


“Viggo…I…”


Orlando’s words were lost as the train bumped to a stop.


“Um…okay folks out this way, this our first stop for the day,” The other tour guide said quickly, trying to usher the guests out, “We have an hour to spend here before the train takes us to our next stop. Please take this time to visit the Marine Center and…other things…alright, everyone up! This car must be cleared. Back in an hour, don’t forget!”


The visitors left, reluctantly and slowly. The guide smiled ridiculously as she peeled the stubborn guests from the seats, promising that yes, she would tell them what happened when they got back. When the last visitor left, she gave a small smile and closed the train door behind her.


A minute later the train rumbled beneath them as it moved slowly away, picking up steady speed, blowing huge clouds of steam in the air. Viggo rose from the floor and looked out the window, the little girl from the tour waving at them. Her tiny figure vanished as the train brought them further and further away. Wind filled the car and soon they were turning towards a hidden cliff overlooking the ancient seaside town.


“What about the others?” Viggo asked.


“The train circles around until their hour is up,” Orlando said simply, as if it would explain everything.


“About what I did—”


“It was completely humiliating not to mention stupid.” Orlando finished.


“But I meant every word of it,” Viggo said, “I want you back…”


“I…I don’t know what I should tell you,” Orlando replied quietly, “I know how I feel, I know exactly what I want but I…I don’t want you to hurt me again. I don’t think I can bear it a second time…” His lips quivered as Viggo caressed his face with remembered tenderness.


“My greatest mistake was hurting you. I failed you before, but not now…not ever again.” Viggo promised solemnly. He leaned his head down, his lips barely brushing against Orlando’s parted mouth. He pulled the younger man into a tight embrace, the wind howling around them.


“Remember when you first told me that you loved me…and I said nothing?” Viggo whispered into Orlando’s lips, “I should have told you what I felt…I loved you then, and I love you even more now. I know that I don’t deserve it, but please give another chance…”


Orlando looked stright into his eyes and clung to him just like he used to. He rested his head against the strong chest, the familiar warmth and strange tenderness spreading all through him. He embraced Viggo tighter, praying that it wasn’t just a dream…that the man he loved really was in his arms again, asking for a second chance at happiness.


“Do you remember what I promised the night before you disappeared? Before our wedding?” Orlando whispered adoringly, his fingers tracing the smile on Viggo’s handsome face.


“You said that the next time you saw me, you would never let me leave your sight,” Viggo answered. A bright smile shone on Orlando’s face, his fresh tears falling between their lips.


“Can I keep it?” Orlando asked before his breath was taken away by the ravishing kiss that answered him.


The train rumbled beneath them, and the world flew by. Three years worth of passion consumed them, burning away the pain and loneliness. They embraced and kissed with such desperation and need that time for time seemed to slow. The love story they began on the shore all those years ago wouldn’t end here. It would go on and on, each chapter more beautiful than the last.




******************




“I forgot my phone,” Orlando mumbled, “I have to get it back.”


“Why do you need it? I’m right here,” Viggo teased. He pulled Orlando back into bed and kissed him tenderly. He rolled on top of his lover, kissing and caressing whatever he could reach.


“So what happens now?” Orlando moaned sinfully, tracing the muscles across Viggo’s chest.


“We get back right where we left off. I’m marrying you.” Viggo answered, “As soon as possible.”


“I love you, you know that?” Orlando laughed, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend. He snuggled close to him, breathing in the scent he missed so much and the touch he couldn’t get enough of.


“Yes I do,” Viggo replied, “I don’t know what I’ll do with work though…but if the next novel or play tanks I can always go into tourism…”


“I still can’t believe you did that,” Orlando giggled, “You know, you owe me for nearly telling them about that Halloween incident.”


“You mean the time when you dressed as a—”


“Not another word, master tour guide,” Orlando warned playfully. The tangled sheets fell loosely around them, the window wide open with wind from the sea. Orlando stared at Viggo’s face adoringly, “You weren’t so bad…maybe you can give it another shot.”


“If you were impressed with that, there’s one more tour I provide.” Viggo said lowly, pulling the sheets away from them slowly and carefully, “Very exclusive…”


“Really?” Orlando gasped as he felt strong hands roaming his body, “Just how exclusive?”


“Right here is where I kiss you in the morning,” Viggo kissed his forehead tenderly, “Right below we have the lips, famous for the most delicious sounds in the world…and down here.”


Orlando moaned as fingers danced along the inside of his thighs, Viggo’s weight bearing gently on top of him.


“Is exactly where I want to be.”



The End



A/N: Inspired after watching a cell phone commercial and hearing the song “If Ever You’re In My Arms Again”. Hope you enjoyed. Thank you = D