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fellowshippers2004-03-07 07:47 pm
one900.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2004-03-07 07:47 pm
(no subject)
Cadence
PG-13
OB/EW
Crossposted to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
bloomwood_
*
Sotto voce - In very soft tones
Orlando rarely ever smoked. He hated the stale smell of ash that settled onto his clothes. He hated imagining the cloudy fumes seeping into the capillaries of his lungs. He hated the finality he felt every time he let the burnt down cigarette drop to the ground and quenched the dull orange glow with the tip of his shoe.
The heady feeling, though. That was a different story.
He closed his eyes and steadily sucked in a mixture of smoke and crisp night air through his teeth. A weight seemed to be lifted off his shoulders as he simply stood in the middle of the balcony, relishing in the feather-light feeling.
Elijah had teased him once, the first time Orlando had reluctantly accepted the thin Marlboro that had been offered within Elijah's small grasp.
"It's because I don't do it a lot," Orlando hastened to explain. Elijah smirked, reaching out a finger and laughing when Orlando swayed unsteadily from the single poke to the arm.
"You're a pansy." He then inhaled mightily, half of the cigarette seeming to disintegrate into that one breath. That had been Orlando's last cigarette for awhile. Elijah was his new source of light-headed bliss.
Another inhale brought him back to the present and he stared into the endless inky black sky, the cigarette burning passively between his limp fingers. He uncurled his digits and watched the cigarette fall without protest. Staring down at the extinguished stub, he vaguely lifted his hand to his face and sniffed.
He hated the residue that saturated into his skin.
He hated the fact that he had to turn back to smoking.
*
Sforzando - Sudden strong accent on a note or chord
"Why can't you just trust me?" Elijah asked angrily. "Why do you have to keep over-reading and over-analyzing?" The moonlight threw erratic shadows across his face, highlighting blazing eyes and a mouth twisted in aggravation.
Orlando blinked, the sound of Elijah's loud entrance still echoing around in his head. He scrubbed a hand over his unshaven face. "I'm sorry," he offered dully.
"I'm sorry? That's it?" Elijah unconsciously stepped closer to the edge of the bed where Orlando was slumped over, head hanging between his shoulders.
"Well, what else do you want me to say?" Orlando snapped his head up and raised his eyebrows. "You're with him all the time, Lij. Even when I'm here."
"You're never here! Do you want me to just be a hermit until you come back? Prick myself with a needle until my prince charming comes to wake me up again?" Elijah spit.
"No! Jesus.." Orlando ran a hand through his hair repeatedly, letting the argument recede from heated yelling to quiet resignation. The room became silent, save for two sets of angry, defeated breaths.
Quietly, now. "Just... just tell me what to say," he sighed. "Tell me what to say when I see pictures of you and him in international newspapers. Tell me what to say when the caller ID shows his number more than mine." His mouth slackened.
Elijah stared tiredly, letting the explosion of emotions settle around them in an unorganized muddle. "Say that you trust me," he finally quivered in a low voice. He pressed a mournful touch to the curve of Orlando's jaw. "Say that you trust me not to hurt you."
His plea hung in the air. Orlando's hand twitched in his lap. The click of the bedroom door shutting answered for Elijah.
*
Dissonance - Sounds of unrest
"You've been hanging around Dom a lot lately," Orlando said casually.
Elijah looked up from his bagel. Orlando had the newspaper open and covering his face. In the beginning, this had come as a surprise to Elijah; he had never imagined Orlando as a newspaper guy.
"Yeah, he's around a lot. Guy gets lonely," Elijah replied after a beat, carelessly slathering cream cheese over the ragged halves of his breakfast.
The newspaper rustled. "He lives in LA." Orlando's voice came out slightly muffled from behind the Sports section.
Elijah glanced up at where Orlando's eyes usually were, but instead found himself faced with proof that Cal had defeated Stanford in football. He resisted the urge to reach out and tear the thin wall away. "Doesn't mean he can't visit."
Orlando coughed, and the conversation dissipated into more rustles of paper and Elijah's slow chewing.
*
Smorzando - Fading Away
"It's hard 'cause you're not here a lot anymore." Elijah tried to wrap a scarf around his neck while still holding his cellphone to his ear. He frowned at the answering silence.
"Hello?"
Orlando sounded distracted. "Yeah, sorry."
"You ok? I keep thinking my phone's cutting out." He stared dubiously at the jacket that was laying on the couch. The scarf had been hard enough.
"Yeah, I'm good. Just a little tired." The line became quiet.
Elijah cleared his throat. He hated those lulls in conversation. "Well, you're coming home in a couple days right?" He grunted slightly as he managed to get an arm into the jacket sleeves.
"Right."
He sighed, pausing for a moment. "You don't really sound like you want to."
"I do!" Orlando responded immediately. "I miss you," he added.
"I miss you, too." Elijah quickly switched hands and shrugged the jacket onto his other shoulder.
"Good." He could almost hear Orlando smile through the line.
"So I'll see you then?"
"Yeah."
"Alright." He grabbed his keys off the dining room table and slipped them into his pocket.
Orlando sniffed. "Love--"
Elijah frowned at the clicking sound and drew the phone away from his ear to inspect the screen. The call time was blinking at 7 minutes, 42 seconds.
"Way to cut out at a good time," he grumbled to it. He wondered if he should call Orlando back just in case, but dismissed his worry. Dom would be waiting outside by now.
*
Meno Mosso - Less motion
Orlando tucked an arm behind his head, gazing absently at the parallel sun streaks that stained the ceiling through the closed blinds. "I thought you said you were bored."
"I am," Elijah replied against the pillowcase. He snuggled in closer, curling his knees into the curve of Orlando's waist, his shower fresh hair matted wetly against his forehead.
"So don't you want to do anything?" Orlando's free hand absently stroked the strip of bare skin exposed by Elijah's too-big pajama bottoms.
"Nah. I'm tired of clubbing and drinking."
"What?" Orlando asked incredulously. He rolled his head to the side and stared at Elijah, who nodded in confirmation.
"Yup. I'm an old man now." He broke into a grin, revealing freshly brushed teeth.
Orlando mock head-butted him, sliding his head so that their foreheads were closer together. "Oh come on. How do you think that makes me feel?"
Elijah shrugged. "If you feel old, then good. We can both settle and do nothing for the rest of our lives."
"Nothing?" Orlando murmured into Elijah's hair. It smelled like the kid shampooed with aftershave.
"Nope. Nothing at all." Elijah sighed and pressed his lips to Orlando's collarbone in almost a chaste gesture. "We can just lay here forever."
Shadows waxed and waned. They stayed on Orlando's bed and pretended that he wasn't leaving the next day.
*
Giocoso - Playfully
Orlando bit back a grimace as the food slogged down his throat.
"Well?" Elijah managed to raise and furrow his eyebrows at the same time.
"It's uh." Swallow. "Kind of soft. Goopy." He smacked his lips and squinted his eyes in afterthought. "Kind of glompy, too."
"Huh. You do realize you probably made up about 80% of that sentence," Elijah said absentmindedly. He frowned and leaned over the cookbook that was spread open on the counter, its pages spattered with various unnatural colors. A stubby finger slid across the page, his eyes shifting rapidly. "Apparently, it's supposed to be 'pleasantly satisfying for your taste buds'."
"Far from it. Sorry Lij."
Elijah continued to scan the orderly paragraph of instructions as if looking for a missing ingredient that would magically transform the goopy, glompy...thing... to a masterpiece. "I don't get it." His finger dragged over the printed words, the soft sound of skin against paper grating on Orlando's brain.
"Lij." He reached out and closed his hand around Elijah's index finger. Elijah looked up to meet his gaze. "Give it up, man." A crooked smile adorned his face as he released his hold. His palm would be smelling like cigarettes, no doubt.
Elijah grimaced. "Sorry Orli. But, uh, happy birthday?" With raised eyebrows and sheepish grin, he looked like he was getting scolded for spilling juice on the carpet.
Orlando clasped his hands behind Elijah's head and gently tugged him closer. "Thank you," he murmured, pressing his forehead to Elijah's. He kissed him quickly, then drew him into a tight hug.
"I have an idea of what else you could do for my present..." he started. He felt Elijah smile against his shoulder for a split second before he firmly grasped Orlando's hand and led him toward their bedroom.
*
Fine - End
"Elijah!"
Elijah turned at the sound of his name, squinting into the setting sun. He heard someone running toward him and waited until a lean body blocked the harsh rays.
"Hey Orlando," he greeted, fingering his car keys in his pocket.
"Hey. We," Orlando gestured blindly behind him at two figures in the distance, "were wondering if you wanted to go out. You know, to celebrate the first day of shooting and all."
"Is that Billy and Dom?" Elijah asked uncertainly, peering over Orlando's shoulder.
Orlando rubbed a hand over his freshly shaved head. "Yeah," he said. "Do they kinda freak you out too?"
"To tell the truth? Yeah." Elijah grinned.
Orlando returned the wide smile. "Come on." He pivoted slightly and slung an arm around Elijah's shoulders. "I'll protect you. We can keep each other safe."
Elijah looked up out of the corner of his eye. Orlando's profile was lit by the orange sunlight, and he felt oddly comforted by the unstraying arm that was wrapped around his neck.
He tried not to look forward to the future.
*
The beginning is the end is the beginning
--Smashing Pumpkins
*
A/N: Was feeling particularly bitter today and decided to make this 'disintegration of a relationship through drabbles' thing. Heh.
PG-13
OB/EW
Crossposted to
bloomwood_*
Sotto voce - In very soft tones
Orlando rarely ever smoked. He hated the stale smell of ash that settled onto his clothes. He hated imagining the cloudy fumes seeping into the capillaries of his lungs. He hated the finality he felt every time he let the burnt down cigarette drop to the ground and quenched the dull orange glow with the tip of his shoe.
The heady feeling, though. That was a different story.
He closed his eyes and steadily sucked in a mixture of smoke and crisp night air through his teeth. A weight seemed to be lifted off his shoulders as he simply stood in the middle of the balcony, relishing in the feather-light feeling.
Elijah had teased him once, the first time Orlando had reluctantly accepted the thin Marlboro that had been offered within Elijah's small grasp.
"It's because I don't do it a lot," Orlando hastened to explain. Elijah smirked, reaching out a finger and laughing when Orlando swayed unsteadily from the single poke to the arm.
"You're a pansy." He then inhaled mightily, half of the cigarette seeming to disintegrate into that one breath. That had been Orlando's last cigarette for awhile. Elijah was his new source of light-headed bliss.
Another inhale brought him back to the present and he stared into the endless inky black sky, the cigarette burning passively between his limp fingers. He uncurled his digits and watched the cigarette fall without protest. Staring down at the extinguished stub, he vaguely lifted his hand to his face and sniffed.
He hated the residue that saturated into his skin.
He hated the fact that he had to turn back to smoking.
*
Sforzando - Sudden strong accent on a note or chord
"Why can't you just trust me?" Elijah asked angrily. "Why do you have to keep over-reading and over-analyzing?" The moonlight threw erratic shadows across his face, highlighting blazing eyes and a mouth twisted in aggravation.
Orlando blinked, the sound of Elijah's loud entrance still echoing around in his head. He scrubbed a hand over his unshaven face. "I'm sorry," he offered dully.
"I'm sorry? That's it?" Elijah unconsciously stepped closer to the edge of the bed where Orlando was slumped over, head hanging between his shoulders.
"Well, what else do you want me to say?" Orlando snapped his head up and raised his eyebrows. "You're with him all the time, Lij. Even when I'm here."
"You're never here! Do you want me to just be a hermit until you come back? Prick myself with a needle until my prince charming comes to wake me up again?" Elijah spit.
"No! Jesus.." Orlando ran a hand through his hair repeatedly, letting the argument recede from heated yelling to quiet resignation. The room became silent, save for two sets of angry, defeated breaths.
Quietly, now. "Just... just tell me what to say," he sighed. "Tell me what to say when I see pictures of you and him in international newspapers. Tell me what to say when the caller ID shows his number more than mine." His mouth slackened.
Elijah stared tiredly, letting the explosion of emotions settle around them in an unorganized muddle. "Say that you trust me," he finally quivered in a low voice. He pressed a mournful touch to the curve of Orlando's jaw. "Say that you trust me not to hurt you."
His plea hung in the air. Orlando's hand twitched in his lap. The click of the bedroom door shutting answered for Elijah.
*
Dissonance - Sounds of unrest
"You've been hanging around Dom a lot lately," Orlando said casually.
Elijah looked up from his bagel. Orlando had the newspaper open and covering his face. In the beginning, this had come as a surprise to Elijah; he had never imagined Orlando as a newspaper guy.
"Yeah, he's around a lot. Guy gets lonely," Elijah replied after a beat, carelessly slathering cream cheese over the ragged halves of his breakfast.
The newspaper rustled. "He lives in LA." Orlando's voice came out slightly muffled from behind the Sports section.
Elijah glanced up at where Orlando's eyes usually were, but instead found himself faced with proof that Cal had defeated Stanford in football. He resisted the urge to reach out and tear the thin wall away. "Doesn't mean he can't visit."
Orlando coughed, and the conversation dissipated into more rustles of paper and Elijah's slow chewing.
*
Smorzando - Fading Away
"It's hard 'cause you're not here a lot anymore." Elijah tried to wrap a scarf around his neck while still holding his cellphone to his ear. He frowned at the answering silence.
"Hello?"
Orlando sounded distracted. "Yeah, sorry."
"You ok? I keep thinking my phone's cutting out." He stared dubiously at the jacket that was laying on the couch. The scarf had been hard enough.
"Yeah, I'm good. Just a little tired." The line became quiet.
Elijah cleared his throat. He hated those lulls in conversation. "Well, you're coming home in a couple days right?" He grunted slightly as he managed to get an arm into the jacket sleeves.
"Right."
He sighed, pausing for a moment. "You don't really sound like you want to."
"I do!" Orlando responded immediately. "I miss you," he added.
"I miss you, too." Elijah quickly switched hands and shrugged the jacket onto his other shoulder.
"Good." He could almost hear Orlando smile through the line.
"So I'll see you then?"
"Yeah."
"Alright." He grabbed his keys off the dining room table and slipped them into his pocket.
Orlando sniffed. "Love--"
Elijah frowned at the clicking sound and drew the phone away from his ear to inspect the screen. The call time was blinking at 7 minutes, 42 seconds.
"Way to cut out at a good time," he grumbled to it. He wondered if he should call Orlando back just in case, but dismissed his worry. Dom would be waiting outside by now.
*
Meno Mosso - Less motion
Orlando tucked an arm behind his head, gazing absently at the parallel sun streaks that stained the ceiling through the closed blinds. "I thought you said you were bored."
"I am," Elijah replied against the pillowcase. He snuggled in closer, curling his knees into the curve of Orlando's waist, his shower fresh hair matted wetly against his forehead.
"So don't you want to do anything?" Orlando's free hand absently stroked the strip of bare skin exposed by Elijah's too-big pajama bottoms.
"Nah. I'm tired of clubbing and drinking."
"What?" Orlando asked incredulously. He rolled his head to the side and stared at Elijah, who nodded in confirmation.
"Yup. I'm an old man now." He broke into a grin, revealing freshly brushed teeth.
Orlando mock head-butted him, sliding his head so that their foreheads were closer together. "Oh come on. How do you think that makes me feel?"
Elijah shrugged. "If you feel old, then good. We can both settle and do nothing for the rest of our lives."
"Nothing?" Orlando murmured into Elijah's hair. It smelled like the kid shampooed with aftershave.
"Nope. Nothing at all." Elijah sighed and pressed his lips to Orlando's collarbone in almost a chaste gesture. "We can just lay here forever."
Shadows waxed and waned. They stayed on Orlando's bed and pretended that he wasn't leaving the next day.
*
Giocoso - Playfully
Orlando bit back a grimace as the food slogged down his throat.
"Well?" Elijah managed to raise and furrow his eyebrows at the same time.
"It's uh." Swallow. "Kind of soft. Goopy." He smacked his lips and squinted his eyes in afterthought. "Kind of glompy, too."
"Huh. You do realize you probably made up about 80% of that sentence," Elijah said absentmindedly. He frowned and leaned over the cookbook that was spread open on the counter, its pages spattered with various unnatural colors. A stubby finger slid across the page, his eyes shifting rapidly. "Apparently, it's supposed to be 'pleasantly satisfying for your taste buds'."
"Far from it. Sorry Lij."
Elijah continued to scan the orderly paragraph of instructions as if looking for a missing ingredient that would magically transform the goopy, glompy...thing... to a masterpiece. "I don't get it." His finger dragged over the printed words, the soft sound of skin against paper grating on Orlando's brain.
"Lij." He reached out and closed his hand around Elijah's index finger. Elijah looked up to meet his gaze. "Give it up, man." A crooked smile adorned his face as he released his hold. His palm would be smelling like cigarettes, no doubt.
Elijah grimaced. "Sorry Orli. But, uh, happy birthday?" With raised eyebrows and sheepish grin, he looked like he was getting scolded for spilling juice on the carpet.
Orlando clasped his hands behind Elijah's head and gently tugged him closer. "Thank you," he murmured, pressing his forehead to Elijah's. He kissed him quickly, then drew him into a tight hug.
"I have an idea of what else you could do for my present..." he started. He felt Elijah smile against his shoulder for a split second before he firmly grasped Orlando's hand and led him toward their bedroom.
*
Fine - End
"Elijah!"
Elijah turned at the sound of his name, squinting into the setting sun. He heard someone running toward him and waited until a lean body blocked the harsh rays.
"Hey Orlando," he greeted, fingering his car keys in his pocket.
"Hey. We," Orlando gestured blindly behind him at two figures in the distance, "were wondering if you wanted to go out. You know, to celebrate the first day of shooting and all."
"Is that Billy and Dom?" Elijah asked uncertainly, peering over Orlando's shoulder.
Orlando rubbed a hand over his freshly shaved head. "Yeah," he said. "Do they kinda freak you out too?"
"To tell the truth? Yeah." Elijah grinned.
Orlando returned the wide smile. "Come on." He pivoted slightly and slung an arm around Elijah's shoulders. "I'll protect you. We can keep each other safe."
Elijah looked up out of the corner of his eye. Orlando's profile was lit by the orange sunlight, and he felt oddly comforted by the unstraying arm that was wrapped around his neck.
He tried not to look forward to the future.
*
The beginning is the end is the beginning
--Smashing Pumpkins
*
A/N: Was feeling particularly bitter today and decided to make this 'disintegration of a relationship through drabbles' thing. Heh.