(RPS) Viggorli: Christmas drabble
Someone please tell me that Christmas fics do not mean you have to have the words "Merry Christmas" in them. >_<
Pairing: Viggorli
Rating: PG
Notes: Fluff in the system? BAH HUMBUG! Christmas made it fluffy. First RPS ever. Stupid PG drabble. 235 words. Pardon.
Title:
He stares out of the window, nose barely touching the glass. The time is night, and the sky is, naturally, inky dark. The city skyline in the far out horizon- amazing, beautiful, picturesque. Bloody fuck, he whispers and thinks he has been hanging around someone for too long. Placing a hand on the cool glass, he slowly draws himself away, leaving frosted handprints behind. He walks to the bed and falls backwards. One king sized bed. For one person, it feels too large.
Makes him feel like something is missing. Or someone. He closes his eyes.
The day has had been long and he’s all stretched out. He lets his mind drift but catches himself before he falls into sleep. Reminds himself to call Viggo one last time before giving up trying to reach him. His hand searches for the phone on his bed, finds it, and presses the numbers in slowly. Placing the phone by his ear, he waits.
The phone rings and rings on the other end. The familiar greeting he expects never comes. He tries the mobile but it remains shut off.
Knock, knock, knock.
He rolls in bed for a bit, then drags his feet to the door, where a figure wrapped in coat and scarf, bearing a familiar face stands. In his hands he holds a gift. And suddenly, Orlando realises why he couldn’t reach Viggo before.
“Merry Christmas, Orlando.”
Pairing: Viggorli
Rating: PG
Notes: Fluff in the system? BAH HUMBUG! Christmas made it fluffy. First RPS ever. Stupid PG drabble. 235 words. Pardon.
Title:
He stares out of the window, nose barely touching the glass. The time is night, and the sky is, naturally, inky dark. The city skyline in the far out horizon- amazing, beautiful, picturesque. Bloody fuck, he whispers and thinks he has been hanging around someone for too long. Placing a hand on the cool glass, he slowly draws himself away, leaving frosted handprints behind. He walks to the bed and falls backwards. One king sized bed. For one person, it feels too large.
Makes him feel like something is missing. Or someone. He closes his eyes.
The day has had been long and he’s all stretched out. He lets his mind drift but catches himself before he falls into sleep. Reminds himself to call Viggo one last time before giving up trying to reach him. His hand searches for the phone on his bed, finds it, and presses the numbers in slowly. Placing the phone by his ear, he waits.
The phone rings and rings on the other end. The familiar greeting he expects never comes. He tries the mobile but it remains shut off.
Knock, knock, knock.
He rolls in bed for a bit, then drags his feet to the door, where a figure wrapped in coat and scarf, bearing a familiar face stands. In his hands he holds a gift. And suddenly, Orlando realises why he couldn’t reach Viggo before.
“Merry Christmas, Orlando.”