Friends of Early Theory (7/7)

[ancabell.livejournal.com]

TITLE: Friends of Early Theory : Apart
AUTHOR: Anca Bell
PAIRING: V/O
DISCLAIMER: all the poems are the sole property of Viggo Mortensen. All the people are the sole property of themselves but occasionally also exist in my head.
NOTES: this is the end, so thanks to everyone who ever commented on this story and gave me reason to continue it!
thanks to ryuuen_kurai for the ideas, help and brutality! *wink wink*

Apart
YOU FOUND MY KEYS
ON AN ANGEL’S HIP
MOVED HALF THE FALLEN TREES
FROM THE FROZEN ROAD.
THIS TRIP IS
ALL I THOUGHT
IT WOULD BE
AND WE’RE NOT
EVEN ½ WAY YET.
IF I CAN’T TOUCH YOU
WITH SNOW-HUNG FIRS
OUR ONLY WITNESS
CAN’T HAVE YOUR EYES
WHEN EVERYONE’S ASLEEP
THEN THE FIRE’S ALMOST OUT.
YOU ASK THE UN-NAMED
ATTRACTION TO LEAVE TOWN
BUT KEEP CHECKING
IF I’M STILL AROUND.
SHOULD WE SIDESTEP
PUTTING FINGERS TO
WORDS TRACKING LIPS THAT
WOULD INFORM US?
ONCE SAID I’D MISSED
YOU EVERY INSTANT
BEFORE WE’D MET.
NOW BELIEVE WE KNEW
HOW SAD WE’D BE
APART.
- VM
(1999-2000)


Orlando remembers a trip he once took to a faraway place, not so long ago.
He remembers seeing how the moon was reflected in the water, and some time later, how freezing it was to step into that water with Viggo.

When they started, they had all the people behind them, Liv, Ian, Henry, Barry. But then they were alone, the only two men crazy enough to cross the cold river, just to see how the moon would look from the other side. Orlando’s teeth were chattering and Viggo was laughing at him, almost doubling over, You wuss, come on, take my hand. I’d have thought wrestling with Greek warriors would have given you some backbone, but hell no.

He then proceeded to kiss Orlando until he was warm again. Orlando clang to his body feverishly, moaning until Viggo laughed and said be quiet or they’ll hear us.
That night, at Viggo’s rented house in Wellington, Orlando’s hands clasped Viggo’s back so hard, it was actually painful and Viggo whispered you’re gonna make me bleed but Orlando said its either that or he screams and Henry was sleeping in the other room.

Viggo still has teeth marks on his hands.

Stepping out into the beach in the middle of that night, Orlando wished he could be swept away into the black sea. He wished he could forget all he ever was. But most of all he wished for the time to stop, to let them spend a couple of days like this, deep in water, eyes filled with wonder and be quiet be quiet Henry’s gonna hear and I love you so much.

Viggo walked out to the beach and his fingers traced that scar on Orlando’s back. He then pressed open-mouthed kisses to it, until Orlando’s knees buckled and he fell into the sand softly.

Viggo whispered into his ear, Is your love only valid in New Zealand, my Orlando? Or can I get it in other parts of the world as well?

Orlando then made a noise that sounded suspiciously like it wanted to be a sob, but it was not. Entering him right there on the beach, under the southern stars, Viggo murmured brokenly How long are you gonna keep fucking with me? Tell me how long? And Orlando took it all in, every accusation, and every thrust too deep so that it would hurt a little, and Viggo’s clouded eyes, clutching him as they came, telling him how much all there is of Viggo is Orlando.

Orlando didn’t know why he deserved so much love, or what Viggo saw in him to keep it up even though he was a cold bastard the moment life returned to normal.
That was the last time he saw Viggo.

Viggo’s house. Viggo’s bedroom. Viggo was not there though. Henry told him he would be back late, before leaving, waving a weak goodbye.

Tangled sheets. A cup of coffee from the morning. A couple of books on the nightstand. Clothes on the bed, strewn about in the rush of getting out of the house. He remembers that. Viggo mumbling get up get up we're late while trying to put on pants and almost falling, his hands picking up one shirt and tossing another to the complete other side of the room. Orlando would sit on the bed, naked, laughing. He didn’t care if they were late, or fired, or anything. Viggo would stop his frantic movements and glare at him. Get fucking dressed Orlando. Then he would toss all the clothes in his lap and kiss him hurriedly on the forehead. As he went down the stairs he would always hum the same made up tune. Get dressed get dressed get dressed. It had a kind of Disney feel to it and Orlando was sure he wasn’t even aware of doing it every single time.

He lay on the bed, exhausted, clutching Viggo’s book in his hands. He would not fall asleep. He saw two filled ashtrays on the windowsill and he remembered this one time, when they got so drunk they meant to lie on the couch but ended up on the floor, laughing so hard Viggo accidentally stubbed Orlando’s hand with his cigarette. He then proceeded to kiss and lick at the mark, until Orlando, so drunk he is highly surprised he remembers that night, captured Viggo’s mouth in his own and tackled him to the floor, panting. Viggo had whispered, I should burn you more, and Orlando had predictably said you already do, at which Viggo rolled his eyes and called him a smooth operator.

Orlando's eyes closed, his headphones crying out into his ears broken down and hungry for your love with no way to feed it.

(this happens after the prologue)
When he wakes up its already dark and Viggo’s face is peering above him, troubled. He thinks he must be dreaming because he knows Viggo talks but he can’t hear anything but Jeff Buckley singing remember when I moved in you. When Viggo takes his headphones off and asks “I said: what are you doing here?” that’s when he realizes this is real, he’s in America, his girlfriend just left him, and he has been sleeping in the bed of a man who has every right to hate him.

Wordlessly he hands Viggo his own book and pulls him into a tight embrace. Like a thirsty man waiting for water, Orlando whispers in Viggo’s ear, “Once said I’d missed you every instant before we met. Now believe we knew how sad we’d be apart”.

Viggo shudders and murmurs, “My sweet Orlando, I don’t think I can take this trip one more time. I’ve got nothing left in me, I’m sorry.”

But Orlando is shaking beneath him, whispering please so many times, Viggo’s head is spinning. He’s never seen Orlando’s eyes this wide before and he must, he simply must press endless kisses to Orlando’s mouth. There is no way around it.

Orlando is gasping, saying silly childish things like I’ll love you forever and he is helpless in resisting him, like always.

A few hours pass and Orlando tells him all about Kate, and her sacrifice. And he sounds like he has just discovered his own feelings. Like they haven’t been doing this for the past 4 years.
He talks about moving to LA and looks at Viggo fully expecting him to say so move in with me but Viggo doesn’t say that. Just yet.

He snatches the book and starts quoting passages of poetry that make his eyes water beautifully, and he goes on and on about hating to be allowed to make mistakes and look how much time we wasted, and he actually, for once, doesn’t sound like a man underwater, like a zombie to Viggo. He sounds as if this is his real life, like he’s not planning it will end in a few hours. He presses open mouthed kisses to Viggo’s face and says I love you, sounding like a grown up.

And Viggo has no other choice but to believe him when he says our trip has just begun.

**lyrics are from Lover, you should've come over, and Hallelujah, by Jeff Buckley.