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fellowshippers2004-05-03 09:04 pm
thisisheaven.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2004-05-03 09:04 pm
Fic: "If you love enough, you'll lie a lot" (BB/DM)
Title: "If you love enough, you'll lie a lot." (10/12?)
Pairing: Monaboyd, with Orlijah on the side
Rating: NC-17 in some parts
Disclaimer: Don't know 'em, wish I did. If this actually was true, we wouldn't be writing about it, the papers would.
Feedback: Always welcome, pretty please tell me what you think. (Call me the feedback h0r if you want)
Summary: "Watching life rather than living it is something you’ve done before, but it is also something that you stopped doing the day you met Billy. It must be some cruel twist of fate that he is what returns you to this way of living, or not living for that matter." Getting closer to the end.
AN: Dedicated to my wonderful p-resh![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
pre_expansion, the queen of angst.
I want to thank my wonderful betael_erzulie for her feedback, editting, and of course, putting up with me. Even working around her test schedule to give me this chapter back so quickly. She gave me the best feedback on this chapter! :o) Thank you dear, much love :o)
Previous parts: One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine
Sorry for the delay, between finals and a pretty bad car accident, this has kind of been put on the back burner. But I hope everyone enjoys it!
DOM’S POV
You watch days go by as if you are experiencing them behind a glass window. The torture of seeing Billy but never being able to touch him is almost too much. You hear his voice and his laugh, but know that you can never be the one he’s talking to, the one to cause that beautiful sound that now brings a twisted, nostalgic smile that looks more like a grimace to your face.
A slideshow of moments run through your mind, merging together pictures of filming, dinners, watching the hobbits surf from your parked car, early morning feet, and other miniscule details. Watching life rather than living it is something you’ve done before, but it is also something that you stopped doing the day you met Billy. It must be some cruel twist of fate that he is what returns you to this way of living, or not living for that matter.
Elijah knows something’s wrong with you and he often tries to draw you out of your hazy existence with snapping fingers and a piercing blue gaze. He probably suspects something, but knows too little to be properly worried. But there is no way to warn him, or the others, because nothing has been able to draw you back to even a small imitation of being alive.
The one event that gets you on this train of thought is already so much for you that you don’t think you can go through anything further. “It is nothing really,” a phrase you’ve been repeating a lot lately. Mouthing these words silently, you stand shaking in a side alley next to a small restaurant. The rest of the fellowship is still inside, enjoying whatever John’s appetite had chosen for them to eat tonight, but try as you may, you can’t bring yourself to walk back in.
Grasping your trembling hands together, you begin whispering softly. “It didn’t mean anything, that girl. He’s not really with her, just being friendly. He’s always friendly. Yes, that’s all it is. He wouldn’t do that right now. Besides, she’s not his type, definitely not.”
“He’s only doing what you told him to do. Or do you not remember telling him to go find some pretty girl to settle down with? Didn’t know your words could come back to haunt you like this, did you? He’s happy now, like he never was with you. And you’re just jealous. Jealous and pathetic.”
Moaning, you kneel down against the pavement, moving to hold your head in between your hands. Pushing against your ears, you wish you could at least muffle the voice in your head that is growing steadily stronger. The voice that rips down every defense or shelter you manage to set up against the outpour of emotions you can’t seem to contain. Being an emotional brick wall is easy in front of others because then their voices drown out your own. It’s when you’re alone that everything falls apart.
“And you always will be alone. You deserve to be alone. So just accept it. Stop carrying around that silly little ring he gave you. He only gave it to you out of pity, trying to say good-bye to your friendship, another casualty of your stupidity. He gave it to you because that’s the kind of person he is, but there’s no hope behind it. Stop being a fool. Didn’t you see him with that girl? They looked great together, not the way you ever looked with him.”
Hearing the sound of footsteps coming closer to your shadowed hiding place, you stand up abruptly. Fear of being found out in a moment of supreme weakness takes control of you and the hot tears on your face dissolve before you can brush them away. Holding cool fingertips to your burning eyes, you hope that it’s enough to disguise the redness, and you pull out a cigarette quickly. Leaning against the side of the building, you light up the cigarette and inhale deeply, masking your pain and opening your eyes to the person now gazing at you.
“Why’d you come out here?”
“Don’t know, just needed some air. Guess I wasn’t as hungry as I thought,” you respond blandly. Leaning forward, you look at Lij in the dark, trying to gauge his reaction. Small beams of light fall across your face and you withdraw quickly, hoping Lij hadn’t seen your swollen eyes or noticed any remaining tear tracks. He pulls your cigarette out of your hand and takes a drag, but remains quiet.
The voice reappears in the stifling silence, “You know, you’re getting pretty good at this masking thing. Bet you got yourself together in under a minute and now you’re even fooling your friends. You should be so proud.”
Shaking your head to dispel the sarcasm, you take back the cigarette. Lij’s eyes are now focused intently on your right hip, following its slight movements as you shift your weight, but never looking any further up than your lower torso. You both stay that way, silence cloaking too many unnamed sentiments. Shuffling your feet, you wish you knew how to break the quiet, but when you open your mouth to speak, nothing comes to mind.
As if anticipating your thoughts, Lij suddenly looks up at you, straight into your eyes. Speaking softly, he says, “I don’t like the way your eyes look now. They look dull and dead, like you’re not really there. Sometimes I wonder if I’m talking to you or just the shell.”
Then his gaze is back on your hip and the silence settles again. Of course Lij would be the one to say something profound and then clam up so that you have to wonder if he even said anything at all. But how can you explain anything to him? Even if there is some remote way that he could understand the depth of your emotions for Billy and not smack you upside the head for screwing up so royally. How can you explain the overwhelming guilt that gnaws at you daily? How can you adequately describe the loneliness that you aren’t prepared to face? It consumes you slowly and you have no defense; you gave that up the day that you believed that you would never be alone again. Because really, how could you ever be alone after finding someone like Billy?
More and more you are realizing that Billy was more to you than the man you fell in love with. If it’s even possible to be more than that. Billy was the stabilizing force and the comfort that you’re now sure will never return. He was the embodiment of your personal savior, always with the right words, even if there weren’t any. All the flaws, the insecurities, and the worries that were ever-present in your daily life were all fixed under Billy’s patient and loving attention. Billy was more than a friend from the beginning. You don’t know exactly when he became your other half, but somewhere in between the friendship and the relationship, Billy had managed to look at your scarred soul and kiss every wound.
Not that he would ever take credit for it, but the wonderful person he uncovered within the repressed regions of your heart was just as much a part of his making as it was yours. He healed you, but without him, you are falling apart again. You can pretend that you’re alright under the cold façade, but when it comes to real emotion and feeling, you’re losing your tenuous grip.
You’ve already started counting the pills again. Organizing them on the table, one by one, label down so that you don’t have to accept what you’re really doing. Spacing them apart evenly, like the knives that you’ve already arranged and rearranged in the kitchen. The temptation would be overwhelming if it weren’t for the fact that the ring box is always next to the pills. The ring represents the life that Billy showed you, the world that he opened up to your eyes. Knowing now that there is such a thing as true happiness, though it’s never appreciated enough, the appeal to release your pain isn’t as strong. Now you’ve started to recognize the fleeting, artificial meaning behind those actions. But even a strong will is eventually broken, and tonight you feel like you might just be desperate enough to subvert all you’ve learned for some temporary release.
An all too familiar feeling begins to burn in your chest. It can only be described as darkness, so devoid of light or any matter that rescue, escape, and even hope are all sucked into this vortex. You don’t want to succumb to this feeling, this utter despair. A miniscule part of you manages to fight against the encompassing black hole, and a new feeling, voiced by a thick Scottish accent, tells you that you can’t fall in, that there is still hope. Snorting derisively at your ridiculous internal turmoil, you continue to stare at the rising coil of smoke from your cigarette. Absently running your fingers through the wisps of smoke, you fervently wish that you had the capability to create something as beautiful as what you so easily destroy.
Through the thickness in your mind, a small light is finally revealed. Lij has forcefully wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly as if you might slip through his arms if he gave you the opportunity. You have been avoiding physical contact so much recently, knowing how it weakens your resolve. The familiar comfort of Lij is strong enough to bring tears to your eyes and a part of the wall separating you from reality crumbles as you return the hug.
“I’m so scared for you sometimes. Dom, you never look alive anymore. I know it’s got to be so hard, but you can’t give up like this. Please talk to me. Say anything.”
“Hey,” you say softly, halting his stumbling words. “You OK, Doodle?” For some reason, taking on the role as the supporter and caretaker fills you and you have a momentary reprieve from your seemingly ceaseless suffering. The thought that your actions have affected Lij so deeply, especially when he has Orli around for all the love and distraction necessary, means more than you can convey in words.
Gripping Lij even more tightly, you pull back and give him a small kiss on the cheek. Pushing all restraint aside, you make the effort to give him a smile, fueled by real emotions, even if it is small and wavering. His eyes light up in response and he says, “Missed you. Think you can stay around for longer this time?”
Not trusting yourself to speak, you nod slightly. Cigarette long forgotten, Lij slips his hand into yours before walking you back towards the restaurant door. Trying to compose yourself for the onslaught of questions that you know will be asked about your prolonged disappearance, you squeeze Lij’s hand before withdrawing your own.
Approaching the table, Viggo and Sean look up, along with Ian who is seated further down the long table. Before you can attempt an inept explanation, Lij begins speaking. Watching him, you are reminded as to why he is such a great actor. His mood can change as easily as a light switch and he rambles on about cigarette cravings and bonding time. The excuse is only superficial and meant to stop any questions, so everyone just smiles and nods and continues their conversations.
You move to sit down, sliding in between chairs and focusing on your plate rather than the faces around you. If you had been looking up, you might have seen the discreet nod and look that Elijah and Billy share before Lij sits down to eat. Instead all you see is Billy’s arm resting on the back of her chair as he sips his after dinner tea with his other hand, blowing on the rising steam.
Lowering your head again, you play with your food, taking alternate heaps of steak and some kind of potato looking substance. You rotate the forkfuls clockwise, creating patterns and a mess, or what you would call a masterpiece. Seeing that everyone is pretty much finished, looking knackered from too much food and a long day, you rise to go to the bathroom. Coming back out, you see the cast midway between the table and door, spread out in groups of people leaving.
Viggo stands at the doorway, eyebrow arched, and waiting for you to walk through. Nodding cheekily, you bow to him, murmuring, “Thank you, your highness,” before sidestepping his sword and gliding through. Viggo laughs loudly behind you and you wait expectantly for a response.
“My friend, you bow to no one,” he says, before stooping low to the ground. He winks at you and then gives you one of his sexy ‘I’m a mysterious ranger who pulls off the scruffy look better than you do’ looks before standing again and giving you a one-armed hug.
Walking over to Orli’s car, you lean against the side door, stealing the cigarette from his parted lips. He smiles softly before saying, “Just waiting for the women,” while nodding towards Liv, still talking to Viggo, and then Lij.
“Don’t let him hear you say that or you’ll be on the couch for at least a week,” you say shaking your head sagely.
“Don’t let me hear what?” Lij asks, popping into the conversation with his usual immaculate timing.
“Nothing, nothing, dear,” Orlando says in return, glaring at you to keep silent. You silently mouth to Lij that you’ll tell him later so that he’ll stop pouting, but stop joking after you realize that Billy is behind Lij and looking at you strangely.
“I’m going to go and get our Elven princess, or else we’ll never get out of here,” Orlando says, before sidling over to Liv’s side and joining in on their conversation.
Elijah turns back to Billy and Sean walks over to you as you stand on the other side of the car. Sean looks as if he’s about to speak, but his cell phone ring interrupts him and, seeing Christine’s name, he smiles sheepishly before picking up the phone. You finish Orli’s cigarette and pull out one of your own, weaving it through your slender fingers and trying to convince yourself not to go to the medicine cabinet when you get home.
Fragments of sentences drift across the car and you hear a series of hushed whispers. There’s always been something sensual about the way Billy’s voice sounds when he speaks quietly. His accent gets slightly softer with the effort, rounding out his words and making it sound like he’s singing rather than speaking. But without turning, you can tell that Billy is agitated about something, because his whispering sounds like a hiss and you can hear the telltale teeth grinding from a mile away.
“Don’t care…but ‘m still worried. Doesn’t mean anything, you know. Just can’t stand to sit by, watching it…can see through it and I just know.”
“I’m trying, really I am. Wish I could do more Bills.”
“You already do more than you should. If it was different, you wouldn’t be doing anything at all…something wrong and it’s getting worse.”
Suddenly Billy’s voice gets louder and his tone brighter. You hear him saying good night and turn halfway to see him kissing her softly on the lips. It doesn’t matter that he’s not walking her to her car or driving her home, that he doesn’t hold her as he kisses her or give her any other sign of affection. His lips, they weren’t meant for anyone else. They were yours to worship, yours to caress, and yours to cherish. Now all you can do is helplessly watch as he throws away precious kisses, allowing others the privilege you never fully appreciated.
You feel like you can’t breathe again, caught in a memory that’s too real and haunting to escape from.
You’re kissing him again, the way you always do. First gently sucking his lower lip between yours, and then gradually caressing his upper lip, coaxing it into your mouth. Applying the slightest pressure before pulling away, his lips would always be glistening afterward, a little pinker and fuller than before. The swollen and ravaged lips would come from later kisses, not from this one. This is the kiss that always makes you and Billy grin at the end of it.
His rehearsed line, “My lips taste that good?”
And yours, “Yes, but I wasn’t just tasting. Have to hold onto those lips while I can, steal some kisses for when I need extra.”
Then a chuckle caught between a pair of smiling lips, muffling the noise, but never the sentiment. And then finally the words you are waiting for, “You don’t have to steal them. I’ll give you them for free, as many as you want.”
And every time you’re tempted to say something ridiculously sentimental like, “Then kiss me forever. Thousands of kisses, one for every moment I’m with you and two for every time I’m not. Give me three for every lost minute we never spent kissing and four for every time I’ve wanted to kiss you and couldn’t. Five for every smile we’ve shared and six for all those yet to come. A seventh for friendship and an eighth for the thin wire we walk on, teetering and slipping slightly, but not yet falling in love. Nine for the fellowship, though I’m the only one you’ll kiss, and ten for all the times I stop myself from telling you that I love you with all that I am.”
Instead you capture his lips, igniting fire with a searing kiss and saying your love in a way words could never express.
Gasping for air, you restrain yourself from reaching out to him in begging or beckoning, you can’t be sure. Lij and the girl have moved away, and he looks at you, eyes flickering with battling emotions. But before he can say anything, you walk towards him, thrusting your hand into your coat pocket, and grasping the ring box inside. Slowly drawing it out, you flick it open with a finger and lovingly trace the golden band inside.
He’s looking at you strangely, eying you with wariness and surprise. Pulling the ring from the box, you hold it close to your chest before holding it out to him, cradled in your palm. You both stand as if transfixed, with your eyes locked in endless battle. Slowly he reaches out, taking the ring in one hand and your right hand in his own. Before you can respond, he quirks his eyebrow at you, trying to relay some kind of warning or message to you with his eyes, and then slides the ring onto your third finger.
He holds your hand gently for a minute longer before lowering it back to your side. Turning, he walks away, leaving you with a racing heart and too many unanswered questions. If you weren’t so full of your own confusion, then you might realize that he had asked you a question in return.
Pairing: Monaboyd, with Orlijah on the side
Rating: NC-17 in some parts
Disclaimer: Don't know 'em, wish I did. If this actually was true, we wouldn't be writing about it, the papers would.
Feedback: Always welcome, pretty please tell me what you think. (Call me the feedback h0r if you want)
Summary: "Watching life rather than living it is something you’ve done before, but it is also something that you stopped doing the day you met Billy. It must be some cruel twist of fate that he is what returns you to this way of living, or not living for that matter." Getting closer to the end.
AN: Dedicated to my wonderful p-resh
pre_expansion, the queen of angst. I want to thank my wonderful beta
el_erzulie for her feedback, editting, and of course, putting up with me. Even working around her test schedule to give me this chapter back so quickly. She gave me the best feedback on this chapter! :o) Thank you dear, much love :o) Previous parts: One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine
Sorry for the delay, between finals and a pretty bad car accident, this has kind of been put on the back burner. But I hope everyone enjoys it!
DOM’S POV
You watch days go by as if you are experiencing them behind a glass window. The torture of seeing Billy but never being able to touch him is almost too much. You hear his voice and his laugh, but know that you can never be the one he’s talking to, the one to cause that beautiful sound that now brings a twisted, nostalgic smile that looks more like a grimace to your face.
A slideshow of moments run through your mind, merging together pictures of filming, dinners, watching the hobbits surf from your parked car, early morning feet, and other miniscule details. Watching life rather than living it is something you’ve done before, but it is also something that you stopped doing the day you met Billy. It must be some cruel twist of fate that he is what returns you to this way of living, or not living for that matter.
Elijah knows something’s wrong with you and he often tries to draw you out of your hazy existence with snapping fingers and a piercing blue gaze. He probably suspects something, but knows too little to be properly worried. But there is no way to warn him, or the others, because nothing has been able to draw you back to even a small imitation of being alive.
The one event that gets you on this train of thought is already so much for you that you don’t think you can go through anything further. “It is nothing really,” a phrase you’ve been repeating a lot lately. Mouthing these words silently, you stand shaking in a side alley next to a small restaurant. The rest of the fellowship is still inside, enjoying whatever John’s appetite had chosen for them to eat tonight, but try as you may, you can’t bring yourself to walk back in.
Grasping your trembling hands together, you begin whispering softly. “It didn’t mean anything, that girl. He’s not really with her, just being friendly. He’s always friendly. Yes, that’s all it is. He wouldn’t do that right now. Besides, she’s not his type, definitely not.”
“He’s only doing what you told him to do. Or do you not remember telling him to go find some pretty girl to settle down with? Didn’t know your words could come back to haunt you like this, did you? He’s happy now, like he never was with you. And you’re just jealous. Jealous and pathetic.”
Moaning, you kneel down against the pavement, moving to hold your head in between your hands. Pushing against your ears, you wish you could at least muffle the voice in your head that is growing steadily stronger. The voice that rips down every defense or shelter you manage to set up against the outpour of emotions you can’t seem to contain. Being an emotional brick wall is easy in front of others because then their voices drown out your own. It’s when you’re alone that everything falls apart.
“And you always will be alone. You deserve to be alone. So just accept it. Stop carrying around that silly little ring he gave you. He only gave it to you out of pity, trying to say good-bye to your friendship, another casualty of your stupidity. He gave it to you because that’s the kind of person he is, but there’s no hope behind it. Stop being a fool. Didn’t you see him with that girl? They looked great together, not the way you ever looked with him.”
Hearing the sound of footsteps coming closer to your shadowed hiding place, you stand up abruptly. Fear of being found out in a moment of supreme weakness takes control of you and the hot tears on your face dissolve before you can brush them away. Holding cool fingertips to your burning eyes, you hope that it’s enough to disguise the redness, and you pull out a cigarette quickly. Leaning against the side of the building, you light up the cigarette and inhale deeply, masking your pain and opening your eyes to the person now gazing at you.
“Why’d you come out here?”
“Don’t know, just needed some air. Guess I wasn’t as hungry as I thought,” you respond blandly. Leaning forward, you look at Lij in the dark, trying to gauge his reaction. Small beams of light fall across your face and you withdraw quickly, hoping Lij hadn’t seen your swollen eyes or noticed any remaining tear tracks. He pulls your cigarette out of your hand and takes a drag, but remains quiet.
The voice reappears in the stifling silence, “You know, you’re getting pretty good at this masking thing. Bet you got yourself together in under a minute and now you’re even fooling your friends. You should be so proud.”
Shaking your head to dispel the sarcasm, you take back the cigarette. Lij’s eyes are now focused intently on your right hip, following its slight movements as you shift your weight, but never looking any further up than your lower torso. You both stay that way, silence cloaking too many unnamed sentiments. Shuffling your feet, you wish you knew how to break the quiet, but when you open your mouth to speak, nothing comes to mind.
As if anticipating your thoughts, Lij suddenly looks up at you, straight into your eyes. Speaking softly, he says, “I don’t like the way your eyes look now. They look dull and dead, like you’re not really there. Sometimes I wonder if I’m talking to you or just the shell.”
Then his gaze is back on your hip and the silence settles again. Of course Lij would be the one to say something profound and then clam up so that you have to wonder if he even said anything at all. But how can you explain anything to him? Even if there is some remote way that he could understand the depth of your emotions for Billy and not smack you upside the head for screwing up so royally. How can you explain the overwhelming guilt that gnaws at you daily? How can you adequately describe the loneliness that you aren’t prepared to face? It consumes you slowly and you have no defense; you gave that up the day that you believed that you would never be alone again. Because really, how could you ever be alone after finding someone like Billy?
More and more you are realizing that Billy was more to you than the man you fell in love with. If it’s even possible to be more than that. Billy was the stabilizing force and the comfort that you’re now sure will never return. He was the embodiment of your personal savior, always with the right words, even if there weren’t any. All the flaws, the insecurities, and the worries that were ever-present in your daily life were all fixed under Billy’s patient and loving attention. Billy was more than a friend from the beginning. You don’t know exactly when he became your other half, but somewhere in between the friendship and the relationship, Billy had managed to look at your scarred soul and kiss every wound.
Not that he would ever take credit for it, but the wonderful person he uncovered within the repressed regions of your heart was just as much a part of his making as it was yours. He healed you, but without him, you are falling apart again. You can pretend that you’re alright under the cold façade, but when it comes to real emotion and feeling, you’re losing your tenuous grip.
You’ve already started counting the pills again. Organizing them on the table, one by one, label down so that you don’t have to accept what you’re really doing. Spacing them apart evenly, like the knives that you’ve already arranged and rearranged in the kitchen. The temptation would be overwhelming if it weren’t for the fact that the ring box is always next to the pills. The ring represents the life that Billy showed you, the world that he opened up to your eyes. Knowing now that there is such a thing as true happiness, though it’s never appreciated enough, the appeal to release your pain isn’t as strong. Now you’ve started to recognize the fleeting, artificial meaning behind those actions. But even a strong will is eventually broken, and tonight you feel like you might just be desperate enough to subvert all you’ve learned for some temporary release.
An all too familiar feeling begins to burn in your chest. It can only be described as darkness, so devoid of light or any matter that rescue, escape, and even hope are all sucked into this vortex. You don’t want to succumb to this feeling, this utter despair. A miniscule part of you manages to fight against the encompassing black hole, and a new feeling, voiced by a thick Scottish accent, tells you that you can’t fall in, that there is still hope. Snorting derisively at your ridiculous internal turmoil, you continue to stare at the rising coil of smoke from your cigarette. Absently running your fingers through the wisps of smoke, you fervently wish that you had the capability to create something as beautiful as what you so easily destroy.
Through the thickness in your mind, a small light is finally revealed. Lij has forcefully wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly as if you might slip through his arms if he gave you the opportunity. You have been avoiding physical contact so much recently, knowing how it weakens your resolve. The familiar comfort of Lij is strong enough to bring tears to your eyes and a part of the wall separating you from reality crumbles as you return the hug.
“I’m so scared for you sometimes. Dom, you never look alive anymore. I know it’s got to be so hard, but you can’t give up like this. Please talk to me. Say anything.”
“Hey,” you say softly, halting his stumbling words. “You OK, Doodle?” For some reason, taking on the role as the supporter and caretaker fills you and you have a momentary reprieve from your seemingly ceaseless suffering. The thought that your actions have affected Lij so deeply, especially when he has Orli around for all the love and distraction necessary, means more than you can convey in words.
Gripping Lij even more tightly, you pull back and give him a small kiss on the cheek. Pushing all restraint aside, you make the effort to give him a smile, fueled by real emotions, even if it is small and wavering. His eyes light up in response and he says, “Missed you. Think you can stay around for longer this time?”
Not trusting yourself to speak, you nod slightly. Cigarette long forgotten, Lij slips his hand into yours before walking you back towards the restaurant door. Trying to compose yourself for the onslaught of questions that you know will be asked about your prolonged disappearance, you squeeze Lij’s hand before withdrawing your own.
Approaching the table, Viggo and Sean look up, along with Ian who is seated further down the long table. Before you can attempt an inept explanation, Lij begins speaking. Watching him, you are reminded as to why he is such a great actor. His mood can change as easily as a light switch and he rambles on about cigarette cravings and bonding time. The excuse is only superficial and meant to stop any questions, so everyone just smiles and nods and continues their conversations.
You move to sit down, sliding in between chairs and focusing on your plate rather than the faces around you. If you had been looking up, you might have seen the discreet nod and look that Elijah and Billy share before Lij sits down to eat. Instead all you see is Billy’s arm resting on the back of her chair as he sips his after dinner tea with his other hand, blowing on the rising steam.
Lowering your head again, you play with your food, taking alternate heaps of steak and some kind of potato looking substance. You rotate the forkfuls clockwise, creating patterns and a mess, or what you would call a masterpiece. Seeing that everyone is pretty much finished, looking knackered from too much food and a long day, you rise to go to the bathroom. Coming back out, you see the cast midway between the table and door, spread out in groups of people leaving.
Viggo stands at the doorway, eyebrow arched, and waiting for you to walk through. Nodding cheekily, you bow to him, murmuring, “Thank you, your highness,” before sidestepping his sword and gliding through. Viggo laughs loudly behind you and you wait expectantly for a response.
“My friend, you bow to no one,” he says, before stooping low to the ground. He winks at you and then gives you one of his sexy ‘I’m a mysterious ranger who pulls off the scruffy look better than you do’ looks before standing again and giving you a one-armed hug.
Walking over to Orli’s car, you lean against the side door, stealing the cigarette from his parted lips. He smiles softly before saying, “Just waiting for the women,” while nodding towards Liv, still talking to Viggo, and then Lij.
“Don’t let him hear you say that or you’ll be on the couch for at least a week,” you say shaking your head sagely.
“Don’t let me hear what?” Lij asks, popping into the conversation with his usual immaculate timing.
“Nothing, nothing, dear,” Orlando says in return, glaring at you to keep silent. You silently mouth to Lij that you’ll tell him later so that he’ll stop pouting, but stop joking after you realize that Billy is behind Lij and looking at you strangely.
“I’m going to go and get our Elven princess, or else we’ll never get out of here,” Orlando says, before sidling over to Liv’s side and joining in on their conversation.
Elijah turns back to Billy and Sean walks over to you as you stand on the other side of the car. Sean looks as if he’s about to speak, but his cell phone ring interrupts him and, seeing Christine’s name, he smiles sheepishly before picking up the phone. You finish Orli’s cigarette and pull out one of your own, weaving it through your slender fingers and trying to convince yourself not to go to the medicine cabinet when you get home.
Fragments of sentences drift across the car and you hear a series of hushed whispers. There’s always been something sensual about the way Billy’s voice sounds when he speaks quietly. His accent gets slightly softer with the effort, rounding out his words and making it sound like he’s singing rather than speaking. But without turning, you can tell that Billy is agitated about something, because his whispering sounds like a hiss and you can hear the telltale teeth grinding from a mile away.
“Don’t care…but ‘m still worried. Doesn’t mean anything, you know. Just can’t stand to sit by, watching it…can see through it and I just know.”
“I’m trying, really I am. Wish I could do more Bills.”
“You already do more than you should. If it was different, you wouldn’t be doing anything at all…something wrong and it’s getting worse.”
Suddenly Billy’s voice gets louder and his tone brighter. You hear him saying good night and turn halfway to see him kissing her softly on the lips. It doesn’t matter that he’s not walking her to her car or driving her home, that he doesn’t hold her as he kisses her or give her any other sign of affection. His lips, they weren’t meant for anyone else. They were yours to worship, yours to caress, and yours to cherish. Now all you can do is helplessly watch as he throws away precious kisses, allowing others the privilege you never fully appreciated.
You feel like you can’t breathe again, caught in a memory that’s too real and haunting to escape from.
You’re kissing him again, the way you always do. First gently sucking his lower lip between yours, and then gradually caressing his upper lip, coaxing it into your mouth. Applying the slightest pressure before pulling away, his lips would always be glistening afterward, a little pinker and fuller than before. The swollen and ravaged lips would come from later kisses, not from this one. This is the kiss that always makes you and Billy grin at the end of it.
His rehearsed line, “My lips taste that good?”
And yours, “Yes, but I wasn’t just tasting. Have to hold onto those lips while I can, steal some kisses for when I need extra.”
Then a chuckle caught between a pair of smiling lips, muffling the noise, but never the sentiment. And then finally the words you are waiting for, “You don’t have to steal them. I’ll give you them for free, as many as you want.”
And every time you’re tempted to say something ridiculously sentimental like, “Then kiss me forever. Thousands of kisses, one for every moment I’m with you and two for every time I’m not. Give me three for every lost minute we never spent kissing and four for every time I’ve wanted to kiss you and couldn’t. Five for every smile we’ve shared and six for all those yet to come. A seventh for friendship and an eighth for the thin wire we walk on, teetering and slipping slightly, but not yet falling in love. Nine for the fellowship, though I’m the only one you’ll kiss, and ten for all the times I stop myself from telling you that I love you with all that I am.”
Instead you capture his lips, igniting fire with a searing kiss and saying your love in a way words could never express.
Gasping for air, you restrain yourself from reaching out to him in begging or beckoning, you can’t be sure. Lij and the girl have moved away, and he looks at you, eyes flickering with battling emotions. But before he can say anything, you walk towards him, thrusting your hand into your coat pocket, and grasping the ring box inside. Slowly drawing it out, you flick it open with a finger and lovingly trace the golden band inside.
He’s looking at you strangely, eying you with wariness and surprise. Pulling the ring from the box, you hold it close to your chest before holding it out to him, cradled in your palm. You both stand as if transfixed, with your eyes locked in endless battle. Slowly he reaches out, taking the ring in one hand and your right hand in his own. Before you can respond, he quirks his eyebrow at you, trying to relay some kind of warning or message to you with his eyes, and then slides the ring onto your third finger.
He holds your hand gently for a minute longer before lowering it back to your side. Turning, he walks away, leaving you with a racing heart and too many unanswered questions. If you weren’t so full of your own confusion, then you might realize that he had asked you a question in return.