The Smallest Shards Hurt the Most (Orlando/Elijah)

[http://users.livejournal.com/_reality_/]

Title: The Smallest Shards Hurt the Most
Author: _reality_
Pairing: Orlijah, Domlijah.
Summary: Orlando knows that Elijah likes him and wants it to end.
Authors Note: I have no idea where I’m going with this. I think it will have maybe three parts, but at most, five.
Disclaimer: Never happened. Implies nothing.



At first, Orlando had been flattered by the attention he had been getting from Elijah Wood, but now it was downright annoying. He didn’t think he’d be able to stand another day of having those huge blue eyes following him everywhere, or have Elijah in his face anymore.

Dom and Billy—fuckers—thought it was absolutely adorable and thus, Orlando was trapped. He cursed himself for having hung out with the hobbits so much when the movie started, but how was he to know that he’d have a puppy following him around everywhere? Now, to his horror, he found that he couldn’t escape going out with the four (or three, if Astin didn’t come along) of them; not without arousing suspicion.

Now the movie was halfway through and Orlando was sick and tired of Elijah trying to be with him every second that was possible, but he just didn’t know how to avoid him. The clubs were the worst. He, Dom, Billy and Elijah went almost every night, and Orlando couldn’t back out now because for one, he was merely in his twenties, the age that you were supposed to party; and two, because Peter was just having them do dialogues these days, so he couldn’t skip out begging for rest from intense training.

Which led him to tonight’s dilemma. Billy was over at the bar, getting them more drinks, Elijah was out on the dance floor with some girl, and Dom was sitting next to him, sipping what little was left of his beer. Dom suddenly leaned over and asked him point-blank: “Do you like him?”

“Who?” Orlando asked.

“Elijah!” Dom said. “He’s hot for you, or haven’t you noticed?”

Orlando desperately wanted a beer now, if only to give him more time before he had to answer his friend.

“What makes you think I’m even into men?”

“Because you made out with guy last month in that club,”

Damn it. Orlando felt his face flush. He had been sure no one had seen him. “Y—you saw me?”

“Feel lucky Lijah didn’t. He’s a cold motherfucker when he feels hurt,” Dom sipped his drink again. “And a tip, Orli—don’t make out with someone who doesn’t have the same amount of fame or even more fame than you. If they ever went out with that story, you’d be screwed,”

“Right,” Orlando nodded.

“So, do you?” Dom persisted. “Like Elijah, I mean,”

Orlando’s eyes trailed to the younger man on the floor. His eyes were closed, his hands on the girl’s hips, feeling the rhythm as it shook through him. Orlando had to admit; Elijah looked good.

Just then, as if he could feel his friend’s eyes on him, Elijah’s eyelids snapped open and those sapphire orbs fixed themselves on him.

“No,” Orlando said at once, turning back to Dom. The second Elijah had opened his eyes, the thought about how good Elijah looked had vanished, never to be seen again. Dom nodded, his eyes on Elijah now.

Good.

Later that night (he preferred to call it that instead of what it really was: early morning), Orlando found himself sitting on the edge of his bed in the hotel room, wondering why he wasn’t attracted to Elijah. Not only was he not attracted, he felt … repulsed.

‘Maybe it’s the eyes,’ he mused when he remembered how turned off he’d been when Elijah looked at him. ‘Yes, must be the eyes,’

He didn’t know how it could be, though. Elijah’s eyes were freakishly large, but to a lot of people, it was the most endearing part of him. Orlando had to admit, they did look good when Elijah could actually control them. He just didn’t like them when they widened so much.

He realized then that he had been looking at his reflection the whole time that he had been thinking. Now he took the time to look at it, look at himself. He wondered just what it was that Elijah found so appealing about him. His hair wasn’t at its best right now, and his eyes were an ordinary feature. The only other thing he could think of was his body, and as his slid his hand down his now naked chest, over his hard nipples, he smirked. Not a bad reason at all.

*

Dominic Monaghan was happy. Though feeling guilty for the reason of his happiness—that is, Orlando not liking Elijah back—it didn’t matter when he contemplated how to get Elijah’s mind off the elf and on to him. Now that Orlando had told him that the feelings weren’t returned, it would only be a matter of time before he was cut out of the picture and he, Dom, could step in just in time to cure poor little Doodle’s heart.

He almost cackled with glee.

Orlando had gone home about fifteen of minutes ago, and Dom knew full well that Elijah’s eyes had been following the other man as he made his way out the door, itching to follow him. Good thing Dom had warned him that he was on the verge of becoming an obsessive Orlando fan yesterday.

Accepting the Guiness from Billy, he gulped probably half of it down with just one swallow and watched as Elijah got tired of the Straight Man Charade for one night and let go of his dance partner’s skirt.

“So where did Orlando go?” Elijah asked, striving to use a casual tone.

“Home,” Dom said. A moment passed before he decided to add, “I think he met a girl,”

Elijah didn’t see a girl, but Dom knew he wouldn’t question it, as Orlando could have easily scored one while he had been pointedly looking away.

“Oh.” For all his acting skills, Elijah was disappointed in himself for not being able to keep the disappointment out of his voice. “Okay.”

There was a pause in which Billy filled by playing with his beer can before Elijah stretched his mouth open in an exaggerated yawn. “Well, I’m beat. Guess I’ll see you tomorrow night,”

“Tomorrow night,” Billy raised his can in agreement. “Then we’ll see if maybe we can finally get you laid.” Elijah laughed and waved, wading through the bodies to reach the exit that Orlando had used only minutes earlier.

When Elijah was gone, Billy turned to Dom. “Nice lad,” he commented.

“Yeah,” Dom said noncommittally.

“Very into Orlando too,” Billy continued, eyes still on Dom. Dom sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Yeah,” he repeated, a hint of frustration in his tone now.

“Hate to see him upset,” Billy said. “Especially over something he doesn’t have to be,”

Dom smirked. “You’re wasting your time,” he informed smugly. “Orlando doesn’t like Elijah. If anything, I think he almost hates him,”

Billy raised his eyebrows. “That’s a strong word.”

“Not in this case, my friend,” Dom downed the rest of his beer. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go show someone what Elijah’s missing out on.” And with that, he had left the table and Billy too.

‘Oh dear,’

*

The next day at filming, Elijah found himself in close proximity to Orlando since they finished shooting the last scene for The Fellowship of the Ring. As it were, everybody was in close proximity again, because there were shooting the scene in which Pippin sees the Eye of the Enemy in Saruman’s Seeing Stone. Christopher Lee, since he wasn’t in this scene, had the day off. Elijah, though didn’t have the luxury of an off day, got to sit and watch the scene since he was not in it.

Orlando tugged at Legolas’s hair impatiently, trying to get it out of his face, and Elijah was talking to Dom, while Billy simply watched. Viggo, Ian and John were somewhere, probably discussing the finer points of chess and how it was created by some evil bastard whose goal in life was to make the people who couldn’t remember what move the pieces could and couldn’t make feel inferior to those who could. That was Orlando’s opinion anyway.

“Alright, positions, people,” Peter called out. “Where’s the other three?”

“Right here,” Viggo responded as he, Ian and John made their appearance.

“You and Orlando are at the top of the tower today,” Philippa told him. “Billy, Dom, you’re sleeping, and Ian—you’re meant to be over there,” she pointed at an uncomfortable looking bed with no mattress. “Got your prop?”

“Right here,” Ian assured her, showing them the ball wrapped in cloth he held in his left hand. He strode over and lay his white staff down on the ground, and sat there, eyes wide open.

“Action!”

Elijah watched as Orlando and Viggo conversed on the tower, looking occasionally at the moon that hung in the sky. Orlando was covered with Legolas’s cloak and bathed in moonlight. Elijah’s heart ached for him. Finally, they got the take and cut for a break.

*

Orlando managed to suppress a sigh that was dying to bubble up when he saw Elijah get comfortable, which could only mean that he wanted to watch the scene. Great. Perfect.

When Peter finally yelled for cut and said that it was a wrap, Orlando’s shoulders slumped with relief and he immediately went for the food table. However, he was frustrated to see Elijah get up and follow him dutifully like the little puppy that he was. This time, the sigh came out.

Elijah was completely oblivious that it was meant for him, it seemed, for he just smiled brightly and said, “Long day?”

‘I could go with that,’ Orlando decided. “Yeah,” he said out loud, giving the hobbit a tired grin. He offered no more and just reached for a sandwich. He munched calmly and watched Elijah shift uncomfortably, enjoying the sight.

“So …” Elijah began.

Orlando just raised his eyebrows inquisitively.

“… Going surfing this weekend?”

“Uh … yeah,” Orlando said in a tone that said duh. Surely Lij could come up with something better than that.

“Great,” Elijah nodded. “Maybe I’ll join you,”

‘Then again, maybe he can’t,’ thought Orlando. How pathetic. “I have to go,” he said curtly, pushing past the younger man.

“Oh. Okay,” he heard Elijah say. And he didn’t even feel guilty for causing the sadness to creep into his voice.

*

Dom seethed.

The bastard was enjoying this.

Dominic was seated, waiting for the crew to get ready, watching Elijah try to strike up a conversation with Orlando and failing. What got to him was the sight that Elijah had obviously missed: Orlando had allowed a brief smirk to enter his face when Elijah was looking at the ground.

His blood was boiling and he imagined being able to melt Orlando’s face with the mere touch of his hand. Justified revenge, in his opinion.

That was why when he was done with his take, he got up and marched over to Orlando and shoved him in the chest. “Bastard!” he hissed.

Orlando’s eyes were wide with shock. “What the hell—?”

“Exactly,” Dom said. “That’s exactly what Lijah was probably thinking when he was talking to you. Or at least, trying to talk to you. But you just won’t give him the time of day, will you? Too good for that aren’t you?”

“Hey,” snapped Orlando, “I can’t help it if Elijah likes me. What do you want me to do? Like him back? Get real.”

“You just don’t get what you’re giving up.”

“Oh, and you do, do you?” Orlando sneered. “Slept with him, have you? Dated him?”

“I don’t need to date him to know what it would be like to have him around,”

“But you don’t,” Orlando said. “I do. And believe me, it’s no picnic. It’s like I can’t even fucking breathe sometimes. He’s too busy trying to get in my personal space for me to do that,”

Dom lost it.

And suddenly Viggo was there, just as he struck Orlando down, shouting at the both of them to stop behaving like children. Naturally, the two of them ignored him and went at it, screaming and punching. Dom even managed to get a bite into Orli’s arm before he felt himself being forced back.

Orlando was snarling still, roaring to get his hands—which were currently being held behind his back, forcing his chest out, by Viggo and Sean Astin—and Dom was trying to kick whoever it was that dared to hold him back and lunge at the Brit.

“ENOUGH!” Viggo bellowed, silencing the two of them. There was a pregnant pause wherein the poet took a deep breath and asked, “Now, what’s going on?”

Once Dom had convince the two people holding him back that he wasn’t about to rip Orlando’s throat out, he managed to pull himself off them and dust off his shirt. “Nothing,” he said to Viggo, face still flushed. “Just … nothing,”

*

The first thing Elijah saw when he got to work the next morning was the large bruise on the corner of Orlando’s eye.

“Oh my God! Are you okay?” he exclaimed, rushing to him. Orlando winced and pulled away when Elijah’s fingers touched the bruise lightly. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Orlando muttered. He felt slightly guilty about treating Elijah the way he had been, but he couldn’t help it. There was just something about him, and it was still there, still repulsing Orlando. Fortunately for him, the makeup ladies were eager to cover the bruise as quickly and effectively as possible and they rushed Elijah out into the hobbit trailer so that he could get his outfit and makeup on as well. When the door closed, Orlando had to suppress the urge to thank them.

Elijah was standing beside his car when the day was over, and when Orlando drew near, he flashed him a little smile. “How’s that eye?”

“Fine,” said Orlando a little suspiciously.

Elijah didn’t seem to notice. “Well, I kinda figured—what with the bruise and all—that maybe … I could drive you home?” it ended more of a question than an offer.

“Oh. No thanks,” Orlando said. “I came with Viggo, so he’s going to drop me off,”

“Oh. Okay then,” Elijah lowered his eyes. ‘Stupid,’ he thought. ‘Idiot! Of course he came with someone; what, you expected him to drive to work in this condition?’ “I’ll be seeing you then,”

“I don’t doubt,” Orlando nodded. He waited until Elijah got into his car and drove off before he walked to the street and stuck his hand out, hailing a cab.