The Greatest Man That Ever Lived (4/5)
Title: The Greatest Man That Ever Lived
Pairing(s): Viggo/Orlando
Genre(s): Romance, drama
Length: 4368 words (+20 000 in total)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The ever-changing love between two men throughout the years, as they grow together in both age and emotional maturity.
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Chapter 4
Early afternoon was a beautiful time. The three hours from twelve noon until Henry came back from school made up the only moments that Orlando and Viggo could spend together alone, and both of them treasured each minute though they never let the other know. It was different from the times they used to spend with each other-a lot more erratic heartbeats and nervous glances-and it did not take the older man long to figure out what the reason was. After all, Viggo always knew that he loved Orlando and that a large and special chunk of his heart belonged to him exclusively. He just never expected his love to develop in that way. This was Orlando he was talking about, his little Orli-the baby whose birth he witnessed, the boy whom he raised like his own son, the teenager who completed him, the young man who brought much-needed companionship to both him and Henry in his suddenly-so-much-smaller flat. For Christ’s sake, he was nineteen years older than Orli, almost twice his age and therefore nothing more than a papa figure to make up for the absence of his biological father. The only hints of Orlando’s real dad throughout the years were the occasional Christmas cards and handwritten letters, and in both cases they were more often than not addressed solely to Samantha anyways.
After a long period of denial, Orlando eventually accepted that he had been head over heels with the guy for the majority of his short life. He constantly yearned for the older man’s composed aura, the sense of utter security around him, and those comforting smiles that made Orli blush madly every time. There were moments in his life when he pondered whether his love was just a strong attachment to the one who had been with him throughout his whole childhood. After all, he was not bent-not perceivably, at any rate-and he certainly did not go out of his way to check out the male population. It confused him at first, when he realized that attraction only happened with the opposite sex; he had expected himself to be bisexual and to be compatible with both genders, but he never found himself drawn to any of the hunks that came his way that were his age. Anyhow, he had only dated girls, Kate Bosworth in particular, one of the cheerleaders back in high school. They met in freshmen year, and had a shaky on-and-off relationship throughout their secondary education, and it was the fault of both of them in the end. Orlando was continually distant despite his girlfriend’s sincere efforts to better their communication, and neglected paying attention to her on one too many important occasions (he forgot Kate’s birthday every single year they were together, and came up empty-handed one Christmas when she presented him with the hell-of-an-expensive laptop he was ogling). Kate, on the other hand, was more or less the epitome of a “supportive sweetheart” who made sure that she was with him at the right place at the right time; however, this was more because she was his girlfriend than because she loved him. In due course, Kate was the one who called it quits when they left for college and once again she did what any good girlfriend would do and waited several months before hooking up with some singer who was obviously smitten with her (if the love song he dedicated to her was any indication). So, ultimately, Orlando concluded that he was bisexual, or more precisely fifty percent heterosexual and fifty percent Viggo Mortensen-sexual. Good enough.
On the other side of the spectrum, Viggo had always known he was bisexual. Before Exene, he had had a string of relationships that were both with male and female individuals. He quite enjoyed being with women because of the natural elegance in personality and character that they all managed to evoke-it stimulated his artistic side and provided all sorts of inspiration in his life. Even the more masculine-looking butch types had an intangible grace in them that made Viggo’s eyes sparkle with vibrancy and exuberance and made him want to sit in front of an easel and impulsively throw a splash of color onto a white canvas. Men, on the other hand, were a lot more understanding in terms of male needs and habits, and provided a closer level of friendship that Viggo appreciated. To fuel his ego more than anything, he loved feeling needed and loved knowing that he could provide something for that special someone that nobody else could provide. Perhaps that was why he always topped, and why most of the men that he ever dated were twinks that all but craved his protectiveness and affection. He figured that that was also why he found himself becoming more and more attracted to the less masculine Orlando-he could take care of him, provide for him, and know that the boy would never feel more protected than in Vig’s arms. On top of that, Orlando undoubtedly had an innate elegance (a boyish elegance but an elegance nonetheless) that made Viggo see things in an entirely new light. He could stare, captivated by the sharp jut of the boy’s elbow and find that it would never decrease in artistic interest, just like before when he would sit by a little Orli’s bedside just watching the child breathe, except more intense. At times when they were discussing topics over the coffee table, the elder sometimes found himself staring at the beautiful young man, analyzing his gaunt bone structure and the chic manner in which he poised his chin. There was something almost ethereal about Orlando-something entirely indescribable-as he sat there, babbling about how much of a dumbass his English Literature professor was or something along those lines. The boy (man, Viggo harshly corrected himself, he’s twenty-two and therefore a man) hated that class with such a passion that it was almost unbelievable how he managed to lift his sorry ass up to attend it every Tuesdays and Thursdays.
“There are just so many readings!” the student complained with a charming smile. “What do English Lit majors do with all those readings, they’re not even any use! And that prof doesn’t even know what the bloody hell he is taking about either. All of his lectures are based on Spark Notes, and don’t you dare tell me that I am bluffing because I looked them all up! Liv was lucky to have gotten the other professor. Do you remember that butch woman that I told you about yesterday? At least she knew what she was doing.”
Viggo listened as the words flowed into his ears, musically consonant, and a pleasing warmth spread in his cheeks. That happened quite often nowadays, and he knew himself well enough to know that his face hardly ever (thank the Lord) turned red. Then again, not a lot of things happened before Orlando came to being. As he watched the university student prattle on like it was everybody’s business, a fond smile made its way onto his chapped lips.
On the other side of the coffee table, Orlando, finally taking notice of his confidant’s hyper-quietness, stopped short in mid-sentence and his words faltered. He had never seen that smile before. He had seen Viggo smile more than a million times but he had never seen him smile like that, not to anybody, and it made him flush in confusion. His eyes travelled upwards and his flush darkened a few shades deeper. An unrecognizable look dominated Viggo’s crinkled eyes, a look that Orli was absolutely certain had never been there before. And more than anything, it terrified him. He gulped and stood up to make his way to the door, quickly conjuring up some disingenuous excuse that involved an angry butler and the oven bursting into flames.
Before he was able to leave the flat, however, a strong arm was wrapped around his waist. Heart pounding, he turned his gaze to stare into emotion-ridden eyes, and slowly a pair of rough lips made its way forward and gently pressed onto his own. It was a firm kiss, one of purpose and resolution, but not without care. Neither of them moved as they stood, slightly swaying with their mouths connected, until Viggo pulled away in a slow, fluid, almost practiced manner. That unrecognizable look was still there, plastered on his face, and Orlando’s heart felt as if it was about to explode from how hard it was hammering. When his ex-caretaker did nothing more than stare at him with restraint creased into the tightness of his jaw, Orli pulled away and stumbled backwards, tripping his way out of Viggo’s flat in a dazed stupor.
They spoke not a word to each other for exactly fifteen days. Which was odd considering their circumstances.
Orlando, as with all of his love problems, ran (literally) to the ever-so-knowledgeable Liv. The girl had been his best friend and trustworthy advisor ever since their days in kindergarten, and it took a while but they finally had gotten used to the fact that most people at first sight assumed that the two of them were an item (which understandably annoyed Kate to the depths of hell but she was considerate enough to never do much about it). He had knocked on her door, sprinted in at the crack of the knob (gee, Orli, way to make yourself at home), and hysterically started babbling incoherently about what had just freaking happened to me oh my effing god what am I going to do!.
With her arms crossed over her chest, Liv put on her best motherly look of listlessness. “Did Dom and Billy pull an Elijah on you again?”
“Liv, now is not the time to make fun of my liquor-holding skills,” Orlando grabbed his short hair and dropped himself onto the hard wood floor with an ungainly plop.
“Then what happened?” his friend inquired, placing herself right next to him. She had just come in from fixing her junk of a car and thus smelled of car oil and rust. “I’m not a mind reader. If you want me to help, spit it out.”
“Fine. Viggo just kissed me. He kissed me, Liv! Right here!” he pointed at his lips.
A light made its way into Liv’s eyes as she set herself on her knees and leaned forward, careful not to stain her friend with gasoline. “Tell me everything!” she demanded, excitement building up in the pit of her stomach. “Right from the beginning with no missing details, mister!”
Orlando glared at his confidante but did as he was told. “As you know, we have lunch together every day since I have a three-hour break and Henry doesn’t come home until around three. So it started off nicely. I was complaining about Professor Howard again.”
“God, that man is a bastard!” Liv huffed. “You know that he gave Cate a B minus on her essay just because it was not double-spaced? He didn’t even set out guidelines that it had to be, Christ! Sorry, I interrupted you, keep going.”
“Thank you. Well, Viggo is a quiet person, as you know, but you can still feel his presence even if he doesn’t say a word. I don’t know.” He scratched the top of his head, frowning. “I felt-I felt as if he was trying to drag me closer. There was a physical pull to him that was almost magnetic in a sense. It never happened before, Liv, and it sort of frightened me because it was so strong.”
“Go on.”
“So then I looked up,” Orlando stammered shakily, his words clipped and unsteady. “And he was smiling like, like, oh Liv I can’t describe it! It was so powerful. There was this strange look in his eyes that was so intense and so fanatical that it almost drowned me. He had never looked or smiled at me that way before.” He gulped. “So I tried to get away, but he pulled me back and he just kissed me. Just like that.”
“Oh my god!” Liv squealed, her inner girlishness emerging. “The totally-unexpected-but-still-predictable kiss! This is so totally Brokeback Mountain material! Oh Orli, you are so lucky! All my kisses have been in regular situations like in movie theatres or in front of my doorstep. Plus, all the guys who kissed me asked my permission first, which is totally sweet of them but still! What do they expect me to say? If I say no, I’d be playing too hard to get. At least in your case, you were not the one calling the shots, and that’s just so romantic.”
Orlando glowered at the woman beside him. “First off, Brokeback Mountain is a tragedy and I never want you to compare my life to it again. And second, I admit that the kiss was everything that I had ever imagined it to be. But really, so what if I had a romantic encounter with the man of my dreams? What good does it do when I have no idea how to respond to it? I mean, Viggo was my butler when I was younger. My own personal servant.”
“Ooh, that sounds sexy,” Liv winked provocatively.
More glowering ensued.
The fifteen days came and went slower than usual. The seconds gruelingly ticked on three times as long as it should have taken. Viggo had pretty much driven himself insane during the two weeks. He commenced abrupt fasting, massive spurts of cleaning, and was so preoccupied at work that more than once he had spilled wine on some lady’s brand new white shirt-which worried Henry to the point of calling Sean over to talk sense into his father.
Over the years, after several failed marriages and one too many attempts at quick monetary proceeds that have gone awry, Sean finally decided to settle down as a construction worker. It was a comfortable enough lifestyle, with plenty of exercise and a meager but adequate salary that paid the bills. Thirty-one-year-old Billy and twenty-three-year-old Dom, along with many family arguments over the ludicrousness of education, got through university (just barely) with Sean’s financial and moral support, and eventually found jobs as professional theatre actors. It was a flexible occupation with loose rehearsals that were prone to rescheduling or cancelling, so of course the two of them loved it. They visited their surrogate father on a daily basis, always ready to spice up their life as a family with some fun and action.
So it was no surprise that all three members of the Bean Clan showed up on Viggo’s doorstep, uneasy smiles and all. “It was all Henry’s idea!” they rehearsed simultaneously, pointing at the guilty-looking preteen in the back. Henry let out a cry of accusation as Viggo only turned around and left the door open, expression blank. He silently made a beeline to the couch, where there was already a deep crease in one of the cushions that was probably going to take more than a few days to re-smoothen itself.
“What happened?” Billy whispered to the eleven-year-old.
“He’s been sitting there for hours on end,” the boy replied worriedly. “He’s totally silent. I’ve tried to talk to him, but he never seems to hear me. He only gets up to eat and the minute he is done, he just goes back to that spot and goes into his own little world. It’s getting super creepy. The only way I know he hasn’t died yet is that he keeps blinking once in a while.”
“Has he gone totally insane?” Dom asked hesitantly, the sincerity so thick in his voice that even if it was meant as an act of jest it certainly was not noticeable.
However, Billy still smacked his best friend for good measure and turned back to the worried lad. “How long as he been like this?”
“Around two weeks,” the delirious man’s son answered, shaking from head to toe. “Oh Billy, I’m so scared! What if he caught some terminal disease?”
Sean made the first move by walking towards his closest friend and plopping down right beside him. Their shoulders and thighs were jammed together but despite their physical closeness they were miles and miles apart. “Vig. Vig, talk to me.” The silent gent made no acknowledgement of the other’s company save for a carefully measured blink, and instead of answering he continued to mindlessly stare in front of him like an inanimate object. “I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me, you know,” Sean tried again to no avail. He took a minute to think for a moment and tried to find the best possible way to deal with an unresponsive best friend. For one, Sean deduced that the man had just gone through a psychological blow that had to be powerful enough to drive him to this state (it was pretty much common knowledge that Viggo was not affected by physical pain no matter how extreme). Another factor to keep in mind was that Viggo never reacted drastically unless a loved one was involved: the guy could keep a straight face in front of an armed sociopath but would totally freak out if Henry came home with bruises. Henry! “Your son is worried sick as hell about you,” he pointed to the boy who stood a few meters off, biting at his nails. “The least you can do is to make an effort to let him know that you are okay.” Henry’s father stiffened, and after a few tense moments of contemplating, he nodded slowly.
“Billy, Dom,” Sean ordered calmly. “Take Henry out for a walk. Come back just before the sun sets and don’t cause any trouble in the neighborhood.”
Two simultaneous got it!s sounded before the perplexed Henry was pressingly ushered out the door in a flurry of urgent whispers.
Once the click of the lock was heard, Sean turned towards the pretend-mute in stern expectation. “You have until seven-thirty-so a bit more than two hours-to tell me the whole story, so do use your time wisely before the kids come back.”
Viggo’s expression softened and a soft sigh escaped his lips. “Sean, what did you feel like when Debra told you that she wanted to split?”
“Like absolute shit, obviously. Why do you ask all of a sudden?”
“Because that’s exactly what I’m feeling like right about now. God, I’m such a stupid bastard! What was I bloody thinking?”
“I’m not too sure, old chap,” Sean remarked sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “Why don’t you tell me what happened first?”
“I kissed Orli,” Viggo groaned, running a hand through his disheveled hair.
“Oh god. Orli? As in Orlando? As in-?”
“Yes, that Orli.”
“Oh god, what were you bloody thinking?”
“Thank you, Sean, I get it.”
“I always knew that you liked twinks, but to go for Orlando of all people! Are you even sure that he’s gay?”
“Not a damn clue. He’s only ever mentioned dating women. What the hell will I do? I really really care about him, Sean, and I want anything but for him to think that I am some perverted horny old man who just wanted to get laid.”
Sean held out his hands in a stop right there manner. “Okay, don’t freak out just yet. Let’s retrace our steps. What led you to kiss this boy in the first place?”
“There was this spark between us,” his friend answered immediately. “I was so sure of it, and I am certain that Orlando felt it too.”
“Describe this ‘spark’ that you talk about.”
Viggo knitted his eyebrows together. “There was a connection. It was not lust-I mean, of course I find him beautiful, but I noticed that long ago, before this. I felt myself trying to pull him in to get as close as I could to him. But then, all of a sudden he started to leave, and this pull became so unbearable that it just happened: the idiot in me decided to take advantage and now I have absolutely no idea what to do.”
A look of understanding crossed Sean’s face. “Do you love him, Vig?”
“Yes, of course,” he responded almost instantly. “He was the boy that I raised like my own son. He has been the one that I fell back to when Exene and I split. Losing him would be like losing a part of myself.”
“But is that all he is to you? A son? A mere companion? A security blanket?”
“What are you saying?” Viggo eyed his friend suspiciously.
“You know exactly I’m saying.”
It was true. Orlando was a son as well as a dear friend and Viggo undoubtedly cared about him from the bottom of his heart, but there was no denying that one facet of their relationship remained ambiguous, or rather unexplored. It was what made his heart flutter, his breath catch, and his usually steadfast eyes waver. It was what made him feel whole. “I love him, don’t I? I love him.”
“That’s the most plausible answer,” Sean shrugged. “Got any other ideas?”
And thus, that was how, a good thirty minutes later, Viggo had sprinted out of his flat into the evening on the lookout for the boy he loved. He pretty much barged into the Bloom mansion and searched the whole place despite Sir McKellan’s insistent protests that Master Bloom is not here, sir!. “Where is he?” he had asked urgently but left before the main butler had a chance to finish his sentence (“I don’t know, he didn’t say but-hey, where are you going?”). Down the streets he ran, and though forty-one-years-old he was still as athletic as his university years. He whacked his brain for any other places Orlando would most likely visit, and the first place that came in mind was The Rooftop. Regardless of Viggo’s pleads otherwise, the daredevil in Orli had already become addicted to the exhilaratingly high elevation and the moment his rib fully recovered he was back up there flying over buildings with nothing to stand in his way. (Viggo had blamed Dom and Billy; Dom and Billy in turn blamed Orlando.) After sprinting for a good fifteen minutes straight, Viggo found the side ladder and stopped to catch his breath before climbing up and heaving himself over the ledge. “Orlando!” he shouted, scanning the neighboring rooftops. “Orlando, are you here?” A thump behind him answered his question. Viggo turned around and found the one he sought.
With only a glance one could already deduce that Orlando had been there for quite a while, just sprinting and flying off his worries and screaming into the open whenever his emotions seemed to overfill his heart capacity. There was nothing he wanted more than for Viggo to envelop him in his arms once again, but if there was one thing that Orli knew he did not have enough of, it was courage. He was a self-diagnosed coward who subconsciously depended on the stability of others, unable to face things alone. And for the past two weeks, the young man had indubitably been in utter torment, even without taking the unkempt hair and darkened eye bags into account. “Vig,” he mouthed, gasping for air as he recovered from his nth jump of the day.
“I knew that you would be here,” Viggo admitted. “You weren’t at the mansion.” Orlando said nothing and just stared at his love interest in expectancy, and after he made it clear that no response would come anytime soon, Viggo grudgingly went on: “I needed to talk to you, you know, about what happened; you were probably wondering what it meant when I kissed you.” Viggo took a deep breath, heart racing as Orli’s face changed from wariness to confusion to astonishment. “I’ll just say that it meant everything that it should have. I think I love you, Orlando, and unfortunately not only as a son. And I apologize if that disgusts you, but I really needed to tell you if not only to retain a shred of honesty in our relationship. I sincerely value your amity, Orli, and if you could remain such, I promise I will never bring this up ever again.”
Throughout the eloquently presented confession, the younger had only stood there, static. “And what if I do not want to remain your friend, what would happen?”
The middle-aged man flinched at the coldness in Orli’s voice. “I would lose you. I would be hurt for a long time, but at least I would feel better knowing that I told you how I felt. And I swear to leave you alone no matter how much I want to see you again.”
He felt the valor in him swell, and with every ounce of bravery he could summon, Orlando took a few steps forward until he was mere inches in front of the man of his dreams. “Who said that you would lose me if I ceased being only a friend?” He leaned forward, heart pounding as he eyed Viggo’s chapped lips, but at the last second he froze, breath shortening as heat filled his cheeks. The magnetic tug had returned, except ten times more forceful. Coward!, the little voice in his mind derided as he found himself unable to move any closer.
“Do you feel it?” Viggo whispered, his eyes dark.
The younger man nodded sluggishly, shivering from head to toe. “Yes,” he all but squeaked.
Viggo’s large calloused hand found the back of Orlando’s head, slowly pulling him closer until their lips were once again connected. The younger felt passion engulf him, and though it was petrifying, he had never felt so real before. His insides felt as though they were on the brink of exploding, and the magnetic tug that terrified him only increased in strength, leaving him out of breath and helpless as he drowned himself in the warm and adoring ocean Viggo provided for him. Consumed in the pair of familiar strong arms that he had known since his childhood, Orlando felt complete for the very first time in his life.
Chapter 5
Pairing(s): Viggo/Orlando
Genre(s): Romance, drama
Length: 4368 words (+20 000 in total)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The ever-changing love between two men throughout the years, as they grow together in both age and emotional maturity.
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Chapter 4
Early afternoon was a beautiful time. The three hours from twelve noon until Henry came back from school made up the only moments that Orlando and Viggo could spend together alone, and both of them treasured each minute though they never let the other know. It was different from the times they used to spend with each other-a lot more erratic heartbeats and nervous glances-and it did not take the older man long to figure out what the reason was. After all, Viggo always knew that he loved Orlando and that a large and special chunk of his heart belonged to him exclusively. He just never expected his love to develop in that way. This was Orlando he was talking about, his little Orli-the baby whose birth he witnessed, the boy whom he raised like his own son, the teenager who completed him, the young man who brought much-needed companionship to both him and Henry in his suddenly-so-much-smaller flat. For Christ’s sake, he was nineteen years older than Orli, almost twice his age and therefore nothing more than a papa figure to make up for the absence of his biological father. The only hints of Orlando’s real dad throughout the years were the occasional Christmas cards and handwritten letters, and in both cases they were more often than not addressed solely to Samantha anyways.
After a long period of denial, Orlando eventually accepted that he had been head over heels with the guy for the majority of his short life. He constantly yearned for the older man’s composed aura, the sense of utter security around him, and those comforting smiles that made Orli blush madly every time. There were moments in his life when he pondered whether his love was just a strong attachment to the one who had been with him throughout his whole childhood. After all, he was not bent-not perceivably, at any rate-and he certainly did not go out of his way to check out the male population. It confused him at first, when he realized that attraction only happened with the opposite sex; he had expected himself to be bisexual and to be compatible with both genders, but he never found himself drawn to any of the hunks that came his way that were his age. Anyhow, he had only dated girls, Kate Bosworth in particular, one of the cheerleaders back in high school. They met in freshmen year, and had a shaky on-and-off relationship throughout their secondary education, and it was the fault of both of them in the end. Orlando was continually distant despite his girlfriend’s sincere efforts to better their communication, and neglected paying attention to her on one too many important occasions (he forgot Kate’s birthday every single year they were together, and came up empty-handed one Christmas when she presented him with the hell-of-an-expensive laptop he was ogling). Kate, on the other hand, was more or less the epitome of a “supportive sweetheart” who made sure that she was with him at the right place at the right time; however, this was more because she was his girlfriend than because she loved him. In due course, Kate was the one who called it quits when they left for college and once again she did what any good girlfriend would do and waited several months before hooking up with some singer who was obviously smitten with her (if the love song he dedicated to her was any indication). So, ultimately, Orlando concluded that he was bisexual, or more precisely fifty percent heterosexual and fifty percent Viggo Mortensen-sexual. Good enough.
On the other side of the spectrum, Viggo had always known he was bisexual. Before Exene, he had had a string of relationships that were both with male and female individuals. He quite enjoyed being with women because of the natural elegance in personality and character that they all managed to evoke-it stimulated his artistic side and provided all sorts of inspiration in his life. Even the more masculine-looking butch types had an intangible grace in them that made Viggo’s eyes sparkle with vibrancy and exuberance and made him want to sit in front of an easel and impulsively throw a splash of color onto a white canvas. Men, on the other hand, were a lot more understanding in terms of male needs and habits, and provided a closer level of friendship that Viggo appreciated. To fuel his ego more than anything, he loved feeling needed and loved knowing that he could provide something for that special someone that nobody else could provide. Perhaps that was why he always topped, and why most of the men that he ever dated were twinks that all but craved his protectiveness and affection. He figured that that was also why he found himself becoming more and more attracted to the less masculine Orlando-he could take care of him, provide for him, and know that the boy would never feel more protected than in Vig’s arms. On top of that, Orlando undoubtedly had an innate elegance (a boyish elegance but an elegance nonetheless) that made Viggo see things in an entirely new light. He could stare, captivated by the sharp jut of the boy’s elbow and find that it would never decrease in artistic interest, just like before when he would sit by a little Orli’s bedside just watching the child breathe, except more intense. At times when they were discussing topics over the coffee table, the elder sometimes found himself staring at the beautiful young man, analyzing his gaunt bone structure and the chic manner in which he poised his chin. There was something almost ethereal about Orlando-something entirely indescribable-as he sat there, babbling about how much of a dumbass his English Literature professor was or something along those lines. The boy (man, Viggo harshly corrected himself, he’s twenty-two and therefore a man) hated that class with such a passion that it was almost unbelievable how he managed to lift his sorry ass up to attend it every Tuesdays and Thursdays.
“There are just so many readings!” the student complained with a charming smile. “What do English Lit majors do with all those readings, they’re not even any use! And that prof doesn’t even know what the bloody hell he is taking about either. All of his lectures are based on Spark Notes, and don’t you dare tell me that I am bluffing because I looked them all up! Liv was lucky to have gotten the other professor. Do you remember that butch woman that I told you about yesterday? At least she knew what she was doing.”
Viggo listened as the words flowed into his ears, musically consonant, and a pleasing warmth spread in his cheeks. That happened quite often nowadays, and he knew himself well enough to know that his face hardly ever (thank the Lord) turned red. Then again, not a lot of things happened before Orlando came to being. As he watched the university student prattle on like it was everybody’s business, a fond smile made its way onto his chapped lips.
On the other side of the coffee table, Orlando, finally taking notice of his confidant’s hyper-quietness, stopped short in mid-sentence and his words faltered. He had never seen that smile before. He had seen Viggo smile more than a million times but he had never seen him smile like that, not to anybody, and it made him flush in confusion. His eyes travelled upwards and his flush darkened a few shades deeper. An unrecognizable look dominated Viggo’s crinkled eyes, a look that Orli was absolutely certain had never been there before. And more than anything, it terrified him. He gulped and stood up to make his way to the door, quickly conjuring up some disingenuous excuse that involved an angry butler and the oven bursting into flames.
Before he was able to leave the flat, however, a strong arm was wrapped around his waist. Heart pounding, he turned his gaze to stare into emotion-ridden eyes, and slowly a pair of rough lips made its way forward and gently pressed onto his own. It was a firm kiss, one of purpose and resolution, but not without care. Neither of them moved as they stood, slightly swaying with their mouths connected, until Viggo pulled away in a slow, fluid, almost practiced manner. That unrecognizable look was still there, plastered on his face, and Orlando’s heart felt as if it was about to explode from how hard it was hammering. When his ex-caretaker did nothing more than stare at him with restraint creased into the tightness of his jaw, Orli pulled away and stumbled backwards, tripping his way out of Viggo’s flat in a dazed stupor.
They spoke not a word to each other for exactly fifteen days. Which was odd considering their circumstances.
Orlando, as with all of his love problems, ran (literally) to the ever-so-knowledgeable Liv. The girl had been his best friend and trustworthy advisor ever since their days in kindergarten, and it took a while but they finally had gotten used to the fact that most people at first sight assumed that the two of them were an item (which understandably annoyed Kate to the depths of hell but she was considerate enough to never do much about it). He had knocked on her door, sprinted in at the crack of the knob (gee, Orli, way to make yourself at home), and hysterically started babbling incoherently about what had just freaking happened to me oh my effing god what am I going to do!.
With her arms crossed over her chest, Liv put on her best motherly look of listlessness. “Did Dom and Billy pull an Elijah on you again?”
“Liv, now is not the time to make fun of my liquor-holding skills,” Orlando grabbed his short hair and dropped himself onto the hard wood floor with an ungainly plop.
“Then what happened?” his friend inquired, placing herself right next to him. She had just come in from fixing her junk of a car and thus smelled of car oil and rust. “I’m not a mind reader. If you want me to help, spit it out.”
“Fine. Viggo just kissed me. He kissed me, Liv! Right here!” he pointed at his lips.
A light made its way into Liv’s eyes as she set herself on her knees and leaned forward, careful not to stain her friend with gasoline. “Tell me everything!” she demanded, excitement building up in the pit of her stomach. “Right from the beginning with no missing details, mister!”
Orlando glared at his confidante but did as he was told. “As you know, we have lunch together every day since I have a three-hour break and Henry doesn’t come home until around three. So it started off nicely. I was complaining about Professor Howard again.”
“God, that man is a bastard!” Liv huffed. “You know that he gave Cate a B minus on her essay just because it was not double-spaced? He didn’t even set out guidelines that it had to be, Christ! Sorry, I interrupted you, keep going.”
“Thank you. Well, Viggo is a quiet person, as you know, but you can still feel his presence even if he doesn’t say a word. I don’t know.” He scratched the top of his head, frowning. “I felt-I felt as if he was trying to drag me closer. There was a physical pull to him that was almost magnetic in a sense. It never happened before, Liv, and it sort of frightened me because it was so strong.”
“Go on.”
“So then I looked up,” Orlando stammered shakily, his words clipped and unsteady. “And he was smiling like, like, oh Liv I can’t describe it! It was so powerful. There was this strange look in his eyes that was so intense and so fanatical that it almost drowned me. He had never looked or smiled at me that way before.” He gulped. “So I tried to get away, but he pulled me back and he just kissed me. Just like that.”
“Oh my god!” Liv squealed, her inner girlishness emerging. “The totally-unexpected-but-still-predictable kiss! This is so totally Brokeback Mountain material! Oh Orli, you are so lucky! All my kisses have been in regular situations like in movie theatres or in front of my doorstep. Plus, all the guys who kissed me asked my permission first, which is totally sweet of them but still! What do they expect me to say? If I say no, I’d be playing too hard to get. At least in your case, you were not the one calling the shots, and that’s just so romantic.”
Orlando glowered at the woman beside him. “First off, Brokeback Mountain is a tragedy and I never want you to compare my life to it again. And second, I admit that the kiss was everything that I had ever imagined it to be. But really, so what if I had a romantic encounter with the man of my dreams? What good does it do when I have no idea how to respond to it? I mean, Viggo was my butler when I was younger. My own personal servant.”
“Ooh, that sounds sexy,” Liv winked provocatively.
More glowering ensued.
The fifteen days came and went slower than usual. The seconds gruelingly ticked on three times as long as it should have taken. Viggo had pretty much driven himself insane during the two weeks. He commenced abrupt fasting, massive spurts of cleaning, and was so preoccupied at work that more than once he had spilled wine on some lady’s brand new white shirt-which worried Henry to the point of calling Sean over to talk sense into his father.
Over the years, after several failed marriages and one too many attempts at quick monetary proceeds that have gone awry, Sean finally decided to settle down as a construction worker. It was a comfortable enough lifestyle, with plenty of exercise and a meager but adequate salary that paid the bills. Thirty-one-year-old Billy and twenty-three-year-old Dom, along with many family arguments over the ludicrousness of education, got through university (just barely) with Sean’s financial and moral support, and eventually found jobs as professional theatre actors. It was a flexible occupation with loose rehearsals that were prone to rescheduling or cancelling, so of course the two of them loved it. They visited their surrogate father on a daily basis, always ready to spice up their life as a family with some fun and action.
So it was no surprise that all three members of the Bean Clan showed up on Viggo’s doorstep, uneasy smiles and all. “It was all Henry’s idea!” they rehearsed simultaneously, pointing at the guilty-looking preteen in the back. Henry let out a cry of accusation as Viggo only turned around and left the door open, expression blank. He silently made a beeline to the couch, where there was already a deep crease in one of the cushions that was probably going to take more than a few days to re-smoothen itself.
“What happened?” Billy whispered to the eleven-year-old.
“He’s been sitting there for hours on end,” the boy replied worriedly. “He’s totally silent. I’ve tried to talk to him, but he never seems to hear me. He only gets up to eat and the minute he is done, he just goes back to that spot and goes into his own little world. It’s getting super creepy. The only way I know he hasn’t died yet is that he keeps blinking once in a while.”
“Has he gone totally insane?” Dom asked hesitantly, the sincerity so thick in his voice that even if it was meant as an act of jest it certainly was not noticeable.
However, Billy still smacked his best friend for good measure and turned back to the worried lad. “How long as he been like this?”
“Around two weeks,” the delirious man’s son answered, shaking from head to toe. “Oh Billy, I’m so scared! What if he caught some terminal disease?”
Sean made the first move by walking towards his closest friend and plopping down right beside him. Their shoulders and thighs were jammed together but despite their physical closeness they were miles and miles apart. “Vig. Vig, talk to me.” The silent gent made no acknowledgement of the other’s company save for a carefully measured blink, and instead of answering he continued to mindlessly stare in front of him like an inanimate object. “I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me, you know,” Sean tried again to no avail. He took a minute to think for a moment and tried to find the best possible way to deal with an unresponsive best friend. For one, Sean deduced that the man had just gone through a psychological blow that had to be powerful enough to drive him to this state (it was pretty much common knowledge that Viggo was not affected by physical pain no matter how extreme). Another factor to keep in mind was that Viggo never reacted drastically unless a loved one was involved: the guy could keep a straight face in front of an armed sociopath but would totally freak out if Henry came home with bruises. Henry! “Your son is worried sick as hell about you,” he pointed to the boy who stood a few meters off, biting at his nails. “The least you can do is to make an effort to let him know that you are okay.” Henry’s father stiffened, and after a few tense moments of contemplating, he nodded slowly.
“Billy, Dom,” Sean ordered calmly. “Take Henry out for a walk. Come back just before the sun sets and don’t cause any trouble in the neighborhood.”
Two simultaneous got it!s sounded before the perplexed Henry was pressingly ushered out the door in a flurry of urgent whispers.
Once the click of the lock was heard, Sean turned towards the pretend-mute in stern expectation. “You have until seven-thirty-so a bit more than two hours-to tell me the whole story, so do use your time wisely before the kids come back.”
Viggo’s expression softened and a soft sigh escaped his lips. “Sean, what did you feel like when Debra told you that she wanted to split?”
“Like absolute shit, obviously. Why do you ask all of a sudden?”
“Because that’s exactly what I’m feeling like right about now. God, I’m such a stupid bastard! What was I bloody thinking?”
“I’m not too sure, old chap,” Sean remarked sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “Why don’t you tell me what happened first?”
“I kissed Orli,” Viggo groaned, running a hand through his disheveled hair.
“Oh god. Orli? As in Orlando? As in-?”
“Yes, that Orli.”
“Oh god, what were you bloody thinking?”
“Thank you, Sean, I get it.”
“I always knew that you liked twinks, but to go for Orlando of all people! Are you even sure that he’s gay?”
“Not a damn clue. He’s only ever mentioned dating women. What the hell will I do? I really really care about him, Sean, and I want anything but for him to think that I am some perverted horny old man who just wanted to get laid.”
Sean held out his hands in a stop right there manner. “Okay, don’t freak out just yet. Let’s retrace our steps. What led you to kiss this boy in the first place?”
“There was this spark between us,” his friend answered immediately. “I was so sure of it, and I am certain that Orlando felt it too.”
“Describe this ‘spark’ that you talk about.”
Viggo knitted his eyebrows together. “There was a connection. It was not lust-I mean, of course I find him beautiful, but I noticed that long ago, before this. I felt myself trying to pull him in to get as close as I could to him. But then, all of a sudden he started to leave, and this pull became so unbearable that it just happened: the idiot in me decided to take advantage and now I have absolutely no idea what to do.”
A look of understanding crossed Sean’s face. “Do you love him, Vig?”
“Yes, of course,” he responded almost instantly. “He was the boy that I raised like my own son. He has been the one that I fell back to when Exene and I split. Losing him would be like losing a part of myself.”
“But is that all he is to you? A son? A mere companion? A security blanket?”
“What are you saying?” Viggo eyed his friend suspiciously.
“You know exactly I’m saying.”
It was true. Orlando was a son as well as a dear friend and Viggo undoubtedly cared about him from the bottom of his heart, but there was no denying that one facet of their relationship remained ambiguous, or rather unexplored. It was what made his heart flutter, his breath catch, and his usually steadfast eyes waver. It was what made him feel whole. “I love him, don’t I? I love him.”
“That’s the most plausible answer,” Sean shrugged. “Got any other ideas?”
And thus, that was how, a good thirty minutes later, Viggo had sprinted out of his flat into the evening on the lookout for the boy he loved. He pretty much barged into the Bloom mansion and searched the whole place despite Sir McKellan’s insistent protests that Master Bloom is not here, sir!. “Where is he?” he had asked urgently but left before the main butler had a chance to finish his sentence (“I don’t know, he didn’t say but-hey, where are you going?”). Down the streets he ran, and though forty-one-years-old he was still as athletic as his university years. He whacked his brain for any other places Orlando would most likely visit, and the first place that came in mind was The Rooftop. Regardless of Viggo’s pleads otherwise, the daredevil in Orli had already become addicted to the exhilaratingly high elevation and the moment his rib fully recovered he was back up there flying over buildings with nothing to stand in his way. (Viggo had blamed Dom and Billy; Dom and Billy in turn blamed Orlando.) After sprinting for a good fifteen minutes straight, Viggo found the side ladder and stopped to catch his breath before climbing up and heaving himself over the ledge. “Orlando!” he shouted, scanning the neighboring rooftops. “Orlando, are you here?” A thump behind him answered his question. Viggo turned around and found the one he sought.
With only a glance one could already deduce that Orlando had been there for quite a while, just sprinting and flying off his worries and screaming into the open whenever his emotions seemed to overfill his heart capacity. There was nothing he wanted more than for Viggo to envelop him in his arms once again, but if there was one thing that Orli knew he did not have enough of, it was courage. He was a self-diagnosed coward who subconsciously depended on the stability of others, unable to face things alone. And for the past two weeks, the young man had indubitably been in utter torment, even without taking the unkempt hair and darkened eye bags into account. “Vig,” he mouthed, gasping for air as he recovered from his nth jump of the day.
“I knew that you would be here,” Viggo admitted. “You weren’t at the mansion.” Orlando said nothing and just stared at his love interest in expectancy, and after he made it clear that no response would come anytime soon, Viggo grudgingly went on: “I needed to talk to you, you know, about what happened; you were probably wondering what it meant when I kissed you.” Viggo took a deep breath, heart racing as Orli’s face changed from wariness to confusion to astonishment. “I’ll just say that it meant everything that it should have. I think I love you, Orlando, and unfortunately not only as a son. And I apologize if that disgusts you, but I really needed to tell you if not only to retain a shred of honesty in our relationship. I sincerely value your amity, Orli, and if you could remain such, I promise I will never bring this up ever again.”
Throughout the eloquently presented confession, the younger had only stood there, static. “And what if I do not want to remain your friend, what would happen?”
The middle-aged man flinched at the coldness in Orli’s voice. “I would lose you. I would be hurt for a long time, but at least I would feel better knowing that I told you how I felt. And I swear to leave you alone no matter how much I want to see you again.”
He felt the valor in him swell, and with every ounce of bravery he could summon, Orlando took a few steps forward until he was mere inches in front of the man of his dreams. “Who said that you would lose me if I ceased being only a friend?” He leaned forward, heart pounding as he eyed Viggo’s chapped lips, but at the last second he froze, breath shortening as heat filled his cheeks. The magnetic tug had returned, except ten times more forceful. Coward!, the little voice in his mind derided as he found himself unable to move any closer.
“Do you feel it?” Viggo whispered, his eyes dark.
The younger man nodded sluggishly, shivering from head to toe. “Yes,” he all but squeaked.
Viggo’s large calloused hand found the back of Orlando’s head, slowly pulling him closer until their lips were once again connected. The younger felt passion engulf him, and though it was petrifying, he had never felt so real before. His insides felt as though they were on the brink of exploding, and the magnetic tug that terrified him only increased in strength, leaving him out of breath and helpless as he drowned himself in the warm and adoring ocean Viggo provided for him. Consumed in the pair of familiar strong arms that he had known since his childhood, Orlando felt complete for the very first time in his life.
Chapter 5