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Attention talesinbloom! and everyone else too
We've upheld our part of the bargain! Our pact with the she-devil of Orlijah naughtiness
Title: A Study in Still Life, ch. 4
Authors: often_adamanta & violettefemme
Type: LOTR RPS AU
Pairing: OB/OMC, eventually Orlijah
Rating: R
Warning: Domestic violence, abuse
A/N: This is a WIP…
Previous Chapters Here
Elijah held the phone steady between his ear and shoulder as he sifted through the prints on his workbench. Landscapes, portraits, abstract figures, and still life all done in black and white, color, and with different filters littered the surface. With reluctance, he set aside the folder full of the pictures he had taken of Orlando several weeks ago. They were some of the best in his portfolio, but he knew Orli would not be comfortable with having his face on display for all and sundry. It was a shame.
“Hey! You paying attention to me?” His best friend’s voice filtered through the line, distracting him away from the planes and angles that made up Orlando’s wide-set smile.
“Yeah, sorry.”
“What are you doing, man?” Sean asked with a laugh.
Elijah sighed deeply and pulled the folder towards him. He began to flip through the photos of Orlando again. “Just picking out some photos for an exhibit.”
"Taken any good ones lately?" Sean asked with a smile, knowing how harshly Elijah could judge his own work. Sean personally thought all of Elijah's pictures were good.
"Yes, actually." Orli looked up at him from one of the very first pictures from that night, skittish and fragile. "But I'm not going to display them."
"What? Why not?"
"Well…" Elijah fidgeted, not wanting to talk about Orli, but Sean would get it out of him anyway. "They're pictures of one of the other professors, and I don't think he's ready for them to be shown. He's a little shy," Elijah added in explanation, thinking what a huge understatement that was.
Sean’s smile grew wider. He had known Elijah forever and the hesitation in his voice was a tell discovered long ago. Sean settled down in his chair with an evil grin on his face. “You took pictures of one of the professors?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s his name?” Sean probed.
“Orlando.” Elijah’s voice sounded increasingly agitated.
Sean barely suppressed the giggle that bubbled up from his throat; Elijah’s one word answers through gritted teeth were nearly confessions to his trained ears. “And these photos? They came out well?”
Elijah looked more closely at the pictures in his hands. “They came out amazing. The shadow and light that play on his features are just fucking perfect. And his face is so expressive when he forgets to hide his emotions. He’s just fucking…” beautiful, he finished silently.
"You like him," Sean accused him playfully.
"You don't know what you're talking about," Elijah replied stiffly.
"Elijah Jordan Wood. I have known you for more years than I care to count, and besides, you're hardly subtle. You like him."
Elijah scowled at the phone. "I don't. We're colleagues," he answered shortly.
"Right," Sean agreed, amused at Elijah's defensiveness.
"I mean it."
"Of course."
"There's nothing going on between us."
"I never said there was," Sean pointed out.
"And even if I did, hypothetically, like him, it wouldn't make any difference because he has a boyfriend." A serious one, as far as Elijah could tell, although he didn't know what to make of Orli's reticence when it came to talking about his significant other.
This time Sean couldn’t hold back his laugh. “Sometimes it’s a bitch, you know? Being right all the time…”
“Shut the fuck up, Sean.” Elijah groused and slumped into his chair tracing the lines of Orlando’s jaw with his fingers. He could almost feel the warmth and strength through the paper.
Over the last couple of weeks, he and Orlando had become good friends. They often shared lunch together and bounced ideas off of each other. After the first few days, Elijah could really see a difference in Orlando’s behavior. The jokes came more freely, and while it still occurred occasionally, Orli’s constant self-criticism had eased. As delighted as he was to have found a friend so quickly in his new home, Elijah secretly felt a deep dissatisfaction on the rare occasions he was reminded that Orlando was taken.
Elijah’s displeasure was apparent to Sean, who instantly regretted bringing up the topic and upsetting his friend. “I’m sorry, Lij. I was just teasing. I didn’t know he was already dating someone.”
"Don't worry about it," Elijah sighed. "I shouldn't have snapped. It's just, I dunno… a really tense situation. And I think Orli needs a friend right now, first and foremost, so that's all it's going to be."
Sean smiled at that. "You're a good person, Lij. You'll find the one for you, never fear."
"Fucking optimist," Elijah scoffed, but smiled at the genuine care in Sean's voice. "I'm gonna get this finished up now, if you don't mind."
"Of course not, as long as you return my calls. None of this a week and 15 voicemails later crap," Sean scolded.
"Alright, you win. I'll call you later, I promise." He set the phone down and got to work, setting Orli's pictures aside and trying to keep his eyes off of them as he looked for something he could display at the show.
** ** ** **
When they first started seeing each other, Cillian never missed a show. His praise had been swift and abundant, accompanied by a sweet lingering kiss or a proud smile. Orlando never wanted for affection or approval. He had never had to seek it out, beg for it, work for it. Looking back, it scared Orli, how much things had changed.
These days, Orlando anticipated special events with a dread that invaded his every cell. If they were to do with Cillian’s work or friends Orlando was brought along to be seen and not be heard. He was an embarrassment, anyways: always spilled his wine, forgot someone’s name, ate with the wrong fork, or something equally unforgivable. He spent most of these occasions wishing to be someone who Cillian would be proud.
If the occasion had anything to do with Orlando’s work or friends, more often than not he attended alone. He plastered on a fake smile, conversed with happy couples, and made excuses for his lover’s absence. He never felt as alone as he did when he was standing next to a display of the pieces that he felt most proud of and had no one to hold his hand or share a satisfied smile.
Orlando was able to justify it. After all, Cillian was a busy man. His work was important, much more important than some silly art show. There would always be next time, though somewhere hidden in the back of his mind, Orlando was afraid that he was lying to himself. He feared that Cillian would always be too busy for him, that he would always be less important, that he would forever be lacking that essential something to make the Cillian he had fallen in love with come back.
As Orlando moved around his area and adjusted the lighting below the central piece, he caught a motion to his left and a smile finally tugged at his lips. At least this time he wouldn’t have to wander around pretending to be too busy to care that he was alone. This time, there was Elijah.
Elijah looked up and caught his gaze, smiling back from where he was leaning against the wall, waiting for people to arrive. Orli walked over and joined him, trying to calm his nerves.
"Ready?" Elijah asked him.
"As ready as I can be," Orli replied, glancing over his display again.
"The main piece," Elijah nodded to it, "Is that the one you made the day we met?"
"Yes, it is." Orli smiled, genuine and warm at the unexpected question. He hadn't thought Elijah would recognize it.
"It's even better now that it's done," Elijah complimented him. "I like it."
"Thank you." Orli glanced at the framed photographs on the wall next to Elijah again. "I like all of yours, too." He'd examined them earlier, afraid that one of his own had made it into the display, but his fears had been groundless. Orli'd been relieved and, although he wouldn't admit it, a bit disappointed. Maybe they weren't as good as Elijah had led him to believe.
“Thanks, man.” Elijah looked at the arrangement of photos critically. He truly loved every picture that was on display, but when he thought of the photos that were still lying scattered across his workbench, he was left with a bitter taste in his mouth. Those were some of the best pictures he had ever taken, and he selfishly longed to put them up and show everyone how good he was and how beautiful Orlando was.
Just as he was about to say something to that effect, only maybe less… embarrassing, a messy strawberry blond head poked its way into the middle of their conversation.
“Hi, Randy.” Elijah teased.
“Hello, Miranda.” Orli smiled in greeting.
“Hello boys.” Her skirt flowed around her as she twirled in between them to face them more directly. “How’s it going?”
“It’s going.” Elijah joked. “I saw your pieces earlier. They’re fucking great, especially the negative space studies. Really cool.”
“Thanks!” Miranda smiled broadly. “I tried to get over here earlier, but I was made to entertain my husband. Honestly, he’s worse than a child sometimes.”
Orlando chuckled. “Oh, how is Karl?”
“Bored out of his mind.” Miranda directed their attention to a dark-haired man leaning against the wall with his eyes closed near Miranda’s paintings. He was thrumming his fingers on his thigh and fanning himself with a flyer from the exhibit with the other. “He hates these things, but I can’t complain. He comes because he loves me. Just between us, though, I only ask him to come ‘cause I like to see him squirm.”
The three professors shared a laugh, but Elijah and Miranda both noticed that Orlando’s sounded hollow. Miranda sighed and gave her full attention to the tall, uncomfortable man.
“Speaking of husbands and children, where is Cillian tonight?” Miranda asked, a thin smile staining her lips.
Elijah sucked in a breath, thankful someone had asked the question he had been dying to voice.
“Oh, um. Well. He’s…” Orlando shuffled in place and bit his thumbnail. “I expect he’s at home getting caught up with some reading. He’s had a long week. Loads of work. Also, he has an early meeting in the morning. This is just a stupid little thing anyway. It doesn’t matter.”
Elijah was silent as he watched his friend awkwardly shift his weight from one foot to the other, a blush high on his cheeks. Miranda didn’t miss the fidgeting either, but she was at a loss. She had tried to broach the subject with Orlando many times and always she was gently and self-effacingly rebuffed. With a displeased “hmm,” she kissed each man on the cheek and shuffled off to her display.
The silence that greeted her departure was almost deafening.
Elijah noticed a few people arriving and beginning to mill about. Now was not the time to get into deep discussions, so he went with plan B: distraction.
"You know what we should do next time?"
"What?" Orlando asked flatly.
Elijah ignored the tone and went on enthusiastically. "We should do a combined display with the pictures I took of you making that piece. Show the process and the result: photographs of it being made displayed with the piece itself."
"I thought you didn't like… I mean, you didn't… but if you think they're… and, uh." Orli stuttered to a stop.
"You thought I didn't like the pictures?" Elijah inquired, amused. "Because I don't have any up tonight?"
Orli nodded, blushing.
"Orli, they're some of the best pictures I've taken. I would have loved to show them, but I thought that you might not be ready for that."
"I, um." In truth, Orli hadn't thought he was ready. But a corroboration with Elijah? "You really like them?"
Elijah smiled, thrilled with the change in Orli as he forgot about Cillian. "I really do. Practically all of them could be up here," Elijah reassured him, gesturing at the wall.
"Oh." Elijah watched the gears turn as Orlando considered his idea, his growing excitement clearly visible. "It would be a very unique exhibit. And people are always curious about how ceramics is actually done, so it would be popular and educational. We could even do that with several other pieces, with different forms and include pictures of the glazing and firing in the display."
"That's a great idea!" Elijah beamed, squeezing Orli's shoulder to make sure Orli knew he meant it.
Orli smiled back, but before he could reply, a sharp voice interrupted him. "Orlando, there you are." Elijah jerked his hand back, but not before he felt tension fill Orli's body.
"Cillian!" Orli exclaimed as the man put an arm around Orli's waist. Cillian smiled, his eyes flicking to Elijah's face as he kissed Orli's cheek.
"You've outdone yourself," Cillian told Orli, who looked adoringly up at his boyfriend, but to Elijah, it looked as if all the fire had gone out of Orli and a shadow had replaced him. It was the first time Elijah had ever looked at Orlando and thought that if he were to take a picture right now, it wouldn't turn out well.
"Orlando, dear," Cillian drawled, cold blue eyes raking over Elijah. "Are you going to introduce me?"
“Of course!” Orlando’s faced colored with excitement and just the smallest bit of dread.
“Cillian, this is Elijah Wood. He’s the new assistant professor in our department.” Orlando gestured between the two men. He kept his face as neutral as possible. He didn’t want to do anything that would embarrass him in front of his new friend. “Elijah, this is my boyfriend, Cillian Murphy.”
Elijah disliked the man immediately, but he smiled wide, trying to be as friendly as possible. “It’s so good to meet you. I’ve heard nice things.”
Elijah held out his hand.
Cillian waited just long enough to show reluctance without being rude before taking Elijah's hand, his grasp too firm.
"Orlando, have you been talking about me, then?"
Orlando blushed and ducked his head, but didn't answer. Elijah had to squash the impulse to tell Cillian that no, Orli hadn't said a fucking thing.
"Will you show me your display?" Cillian asked, and without waiting for an answer, led Orli away.
Elijah sighed, watching them leave without a backwards glance. That could have gone better. He turned and focused on his work, keeping his back toward them so he didn't have to see the other man touching Orli.
** ** ** **
Cillian hadn’t missed Elijah’s casual molestation of Orlando before he had made his presence known, nor the way Orlando’s body welcomed the touch. Cillian also did not miss how Orlando’s eyes kept cutting quickly over to where the short, bug-eyed man was standing. He nodded appropriately, as Orlando pointed out this and that bit of nonsense in relation to his exhibit, but the whole time he was watching Orlando shoot glances to his left. Cillian wasn’t surprised when he caught Elijah gawking back at what was his. He wasn’t surprised, but he was curious.
Cutting Orlando off in the middle of a sentence he hadn’t been listening to in the first place, Cillian excused himself to the restroom. He held back a cruel smirk at Orlando’s hurt expression and made his way towards the back of the gallery to the stairs.
It wasn't hard to find Elijah Wood's office. Orlando had given him a tour of the building once. He wasn't even sure what he was looking for as he pushed open the unlocked door, but he needed more information before he’d know how to deal with the situation.
Cillian curled his lip at the mess in the tiny room, equipment and papers and other detritus covering every surface and spilling disgracefully onto the floor. At least no one would notice if he moved anything. He worked his way around the perimeter, finding nothing of interest. He was about to give up and go see what he could discover with some discrete questions to the crowd attending the exhibit, when he saw an abused folder with the edges of photographs sticking out haphazardly. Curious, he pulled it closer and opened it.
He flipped through image after image of the familiar face, each photo winding something inside him tighter. When he opened the folder below the first one and found more of the same, it snapped, and his scowl twisted into a snarl.
** ** ** **
Orlando had been waiting patiently for almost 20 minutes when he finally decided to go look for Cillian. He made his way through the crowd and entered the men’s restroom on the first floor. It looked empty, but just to be sure he called out very quietly, “Cillian?”
No answer. From there, Orlando made a swift but diligent search of the three restrooms on each floor of the building. His office was on the third floor so Orlando moved quickly down the hall to grab his cell phone from his rucksack. He would just have to call Cillian and find out to where he’d disappeared.
Orlando stopped abruptly in the middle of the hall. Would that make Cillian angry? He had come to the show after all, so he obviously wanted to be here. And he was a grown man. It’s not like Orlando had to watch him or know where he was at all times. He stood there, biting his lip and trying to decide how Cillian would react to Orlando phoning him concerning his whereabouts.
Just as he had decided to turn around and go back downstairs to wait, a noise from Elijah’s office caught his attention. Maybe Elijah had seen where his lover had gone. Orlando crossed the hall and called out to his friend through the partially open door.
“Elijah? Have you seen…” Orlando stopped in his tracks as he stepped inside. There stood the object of his inquiry pacing in the middle of the room, holding fistfuls of crumpled ruined photographs. “C- Cillian?”
"I suppose," Cillian said darkly, "that you have an explanation for this." He threw the photos into the air toward Orlando, who watched them flutter to the ground like dying birds, his own face glancing up at him as they spun.
Cold filled his stomach and pressure filled his chest, making it hard to breath, and he couldn't decide whether it was over the destroyed pictures or because Cillian had found him out. Cillian was still pacing, his eyes tracking Orlando with an anger that made it difficult to speak. He swallowed harshly and tried anyway.
"It-it's nothing. They're nothing, Cillian," and Orlando knew that he was lying to Cillian for the first time.
"Nothing?" Cillian growled. "If it were nothing, then why didn't you tell me?"
“I didn’t think… I didn’t…” Orlando felt his heart seize up in his chest and his lungs contracted pushing all of the oxygen from his body. “I didn’t want to upset you. You wouldn’t have understood.”
“What?” Cillian rushed forward and grabbed Orlando around the elbow gripping hard enough to make Orlando whimper. “You think I’m too stupid to understand that you and this fucking Elijah have been screwing around behind my back?”
“Cillian, please!” Orlando felt the tears begin to come to his eyes against his will. “You’re hur- hurting me!”
Cillian shook Orlando hard before tangling his fingers in his lover’s curls and yanking him closer, until he was a mere breath from Cillian’s face. Tears leaked from Orlando’s eyes and he yelped as a headache began to pound against his scalp. Cillian grunted and pulled him closer until his mouth brushed against Orlando’s cheek. “Now you tell me the truth, you little whore. Did you fuck him?”
"No! I-Cillian, no!" Orlando sucked in a breath, and Cillian could feel the trembling against his body. "I love you."
Cillian pulled Orli away, still gripping his hair, and examined him, eyes wide with tears and fear, body heaving as he fought to breathe, focused totally on Cillian. Orlando might even be telling the truth, but at that moment, it didn't matter. Whatever part inside himself that had broken out and taken control when he'd seen those pictures wasn't done yet, and neither was he.
He released Orlando's hair, saw with triumph the flash of relief in Orli's eyes, and then backhanded Orli as hard as he could. Orli went flying into the wall before falling onto the floor, too shocked to move. "Lies, you worthless bitch. I can tell when you lie to me."
Cillian stalked toward him, and Orli shook his head faintly, eyes watering at the pain it caused. "No…" he whispered.
Orlando’s jaw ached horribly and he could taste the coppery tang of blood seeping into his mouth from his split lip. He shuddered with fear as Cillian’s shadow overtook him and looked up into a face filled with loathing.
“Let me make something perfectly clear to you.” Cillian gripped Orlando by the hair again and pulled him up, viciously twisting his fingers and nails into the scalp. “You may be a worthless idiot whose only use is sucking my cock, but you are my pretty little cocksucker, and you will not fucking forget it.”
As much as Cillian’s actions hurt Orlando, his words hurt more. The artist began to cry in earnest. He had given up practically everything to be with Cillian, to be what Cillian wanted him to be. Orlando knew that Cillian thought he was silly, forgetful and maybe a little stupid from time to time, but he never expected to hear such venom falling from his lover’s lips.
”Cillian, please.” Orlando sobbed. “I would never… it was just work. Elijah and I were just-”
“Elijah? Elijah?” Cillian punctuated every word with a bang, knocking Orlando’s head into the wall with every pause. “I. Never. Want. To. Here. That. Name. Again.”
Cillian let go and Orlando whimpered as he slid down the wall. Cillian rounded on his lover. “I hope you enjoyed it, because you won’t be seeing him again. You won’t be seeing anyone. Tomorrow, you will fucking quit this pathetic excuse for a job.”
Orlando’s eyes grew wide, and he began to rally against the black edging his vision. He slowly pulled himself up from the floor, using one of Elijah’s tables for leverage. “Cillian, no! I can’t.”
Cillian saw red. “Don’t you tell me no, you fucking waste!”
He grabbed Orlando roughly, shoving him backwards with brutal force. The battered man’s legs tangled and before he knew it he was falling, the heavy wooden table coming up to meet him hard and fast. He threw up his arms to protect his face.
Orlando felt a white hot pain shoot down to his fingers and heard a sickening crack. He hit the floor limply, clutching his arm against his chest. Thankfully, he passed out from the pain and fear promptly as he saw Cillian’s shiny black shoe coming down on his midsection.
Several kicks left Orli sprawled, still unconscious and bleeding. Cillian stopped suddenly, his breathing harshly loud in the sudden stillness, yet unable to cover the ringing in his ears. He toed Orli's head so that it was facing him and spat, disgusted. His anger was gone as suddenly as it had come, and he left without a second thought.
** ** ** **
Elijah, telling himself he was on a mission to get one of his cameras and not searching for Orli, froze when he saw Cillian leave Elijah's own office and head the opposite direction to the staircase at the rear of the building. With a flare of anger, he stepped down the hall to see what the other man had done.
Orli's battered form in the center of his mauled office sent him reeling, and he threw himself on the floor next to the injured man. "Orli! Orli!" He felt quickly for a pulse when there was no response, sobbing in relief at the beat he found there. He couldn't tell if it was strong because his hands were shaking so badly, but at least he knew Orli wasn't dead.
"Help!" Elijah called, his brain unable to get past the weak rhythm that connected him to Orli's life. "You are not allowed to die on me!" Elijah choked out through tears. "HELP!" His scream echoed down the empty hall.
It was several more of Orli's heartbeats before he tore himself away to find the phone, Orli's blood staining everything he touched.
TBC...
We've upheld our part of the bargain! Our pact with the she-devil of Orlijah naughtiness
Title: A Study in Still Life, ch. 4
Authors: often_adamanta & violettefemme
Type: LOTR RPS AU
Pairing: OB/OMC, eventually Orlijah
Rating: R
Warning: Domestic violence, abuse
A/N: This is a WIP…
Previous Chapters Here
Elijah held the phone steady between his ear and shoulder as he sifted through the prints on his workbench. Landscapes, portraits, abstract figures, and still life all done in black and white, color, and with different filters littered the surface. With reluctance, he set aside the folder full of the pictures he had taken of Orlando several weeks ago. They were some of the best in his portfolio, but he knew Orli would not be comfortable with having his face on display for all and sundry. It was a shame.
“Hey! You paying attention to me?” His best friend’s voice filtered through the line, distracting him away from the planes and angles that made up Orlando’s wide-set smile.
“Yeah, sorry.”
“What are you doing, man?” Sean asked with a laugh.
Elijah sighed deeply and pulled the folder towards him. He began to flip through the photos of Orlando again. “Just picking out some photos for an exhibit.”
"Taken any good ones lately?" Sean asked with a smile, knowing how harshly Elijah could judge his own work. Sean personally thought all of Elijah's pictures were good.
"Yes, actually." Orli looked up at him from one of the very first pictures from that night, skittish and fragile. "But I'm not going to display them."
"What? Why not?"
"Well…" Elijah fidgeted, not wanting to talk about Orli, but Sean would get it out of him anyway. "They're pictures of one of the other professors, and I don't think he's ready for them to be shown. He's a little shy," Elijah added in explanation, thinking what a huge understatement that was.
Sean’s smile grew wider. He had known Elijah forever and the hesitation in his voice was a tell discovered long ago. Sean settled down in his chair with an evil grin on his face. “You took pictures of one of the professors?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s his name?” Sean probed.
“Orlando.” Elijah’s voice sounded increasingly agitated.
Sean barely suppressed the giggle that bubbled up from his throat; Elijah’s one word answers through gritted teeth were nearly confessions to his trained ears. “And these photos? They came out well?”
Elijah looked more closely at the pictures in his hands. “They came out amazing. The shadow and light that play on his features are just fucking perfect. And his face is so expressive when he forgets to hide his emotions. He’s just fucking…” beautiful, he finished silently.
"You like him," Sean accused him playfully.
"You don't know what you're talking about," Elijah replied stiffly.
"Elijah Jordan Wood. I have known you for more years than I care to count, and besides, you're hardly subtle. You like him."
Elijah scowled at the phone. "I don't. We're colleagues," he answered shortly.
"Right," Sean agreed, amused at Elijah's defensiveness.
"I mean it."
"Of course."
"There's nothing going on between us."
"I never said there was," Sean pointed out.
"And even if I did, hypothetically, like him, it wouldn't make any difference because he has a boyfriend." A serious one, as far as Elijah could tell, although he didn't know what to make of Orli's reticence when it came to talking about his significant other.
This time Sean couldn’t hold back his laugh. “Sometimes it’s a bitch, you know? Being right all the time…”
“Shut the fuck up, Sean.” Elijah groused and slumped into his chair tracing the lines of Orlando’s jaw with his fingers. He could almost feel the warmth and strength through the paper.
Over the last couple of weeks, he and Orlando had become good friends. They often shared lunch together and bounced ideas off of each other. After the first few days, Elijah could really see a difference in Orlando’s behavior. The jokes came more freely, and while it still occurred occasionally, Orli’s constant self-criticism had eased. As delighted as he was to have found a friend so quickly in his new home, Elijah secretly felt a deep dissatisfaction on the rare occasions he was reminded that Orlando was taken.
Elijah’s displeasure was apparent to Sean, who instantly regretted bringing up the topic and upsetting his friend. “I’m sorry, Lij. I was just teasing. I didn’t know he was already dating someone.”
"Don't worry about it," Elijah sighed. "I shouldn't have snapped. It's just, I dunno… a really tense situation. And I think Orli needs a friend right now, first and foremost, so that's all it's going to be."
Sean smiled at that. "You're a good person, Lij. You'll find the one for you, never fear."
"Fucking optimist," Elijah scoffed, but smiled at the genuine care in Sean's voice. "I'm gonna get this finished up now, if you don't mind."
"Of course not, as long as you return my calls. None of this a week and 15 voicemails later crap," Sean scolded.
"Alright, you win. I'll call you later, I promise." He set the phone down and got to work, setting Orli's pictures aside and trying to keep his eyes off of them as he looked for something he could display at the show.
** ** ** **
When they first started seeing each other, Cillian never missed a show. His praise had been swift and abundant, accompanied by a sweet lingering kiss or a proud smile. Orlando never wanted for affection or approval. He had never had to seek it out, beg for it, work for it. Looking back, it scared Orli, how much things had changed.
These days, Orlando anticipated special events with a dread that invaded his every cell. If they were to do with Cillian’s work or friends Orlando was brought along to be seen and not be heard. He was an embarrassment, anyways: always spilled his wine, forgot someone’s name, ate with the wrong fork, or something equally unforgivable. He spent most of these occasions wishing to be someone who Cillian would be proud.
If the occasion had anything to do with Orlando’s work or friends, more often than not he attended alone. He plastered on a fake smile, conversed with happy couples, and made excuses for his lover’s absence. He never felt as alone as he did when he was standing next to a display of the pieces that he felt most proud of and had no one to hold his hand or share a satisfied smile.
Orlando was able to justify it. After all, Cillian was a busy man. His work was important, much more important than some silly art show. There would always be next time, though somewhere hidden in the back of his mind, Orlando was afraid that he was lying to himself. He feared that Cillian would always be too busy for him, that he would always be less important, that he would forever be lacking that essential something to make the Cillian he had fallen in love with come back.
As Orlando moved around his area and adjusted the lighting below the central piece, he caught a motion to his left and a smile finally tugged at his lips. At least this time he wouldn’t have to wander around pretending to be too busy to care that he was alone. This time, there was Elijah.
Elijah looked up and caught his gaze, smiling back from where he was leaning against the wall, waiting for people to arrive. Orli walked over and joined him, trying to calm his nerves.
"Ready?" Elijah asked him.
"As ready as I can be," Orli replied, glancing over his display again.
"The main piece," Elijah nodded to it, "Is that the one you made the day we met?"
"Yes, it is." Orli smiled, genuine and warm at the unexpected question. He hadn't thought Elijah would recognize it.
"It's even better now that it's done," Elijah complimented him. "I like it."
"Thank you." Orli glanced at the framed photographs on the wall next to Elijah again. "I like all of yours, too." He'd examined them earlier, afraid that one of his own had made it into the display, but his fears had been groundless. Orli'd been relieved and, although he wouldn't admit it, a bit disappointed. Maybe they weren't as good as Elijah had led him to believe.
“Thanks, man.” Elijah looked at the arrangement of photos critically. He truly loved every picture that was on display, but when he thought of the photos that were still lying scattered across his workbench, he was left with a bitter taste in his mouth. Those were some of the best pictures he had ever taken, and he selfishly longed to put them up and show everyone how good he was and how beautiful Orlando was.
Just as he was about to say something to that effect, only maybe less… embarrassing, a messy strawberry blond head poked its way into the middle of their conversation.
“Hi, Randy.” Elijah teased.
“Hello, Miranda.” Orli smiled in greeting.
“Hello boys.” Her skirt flowed around her as she twirled in between them to face them more directly. “How’s it going?”
“It’s going.” Elijah joked. “I saw your pieces earlier. They’re fucking great, especially the negative space studies. Really cool.”
“Thanks!” Miranda smiled broadly. “I tried to get over here earlier, but I was made to entertain my husband. Honestly, he’s worse than a child sometimes.”
Orlando chuckled. “Oh, how is Karl?”
“Bored out of his mind.” Miranda directed their attention to a dark-haired man leaning against the wall with his eyes closed near Miranda’s paintings. He was thrumming his fingers on his thigh and fanning himself with a flyer from the exhibit with the other. “He hates these things, but I can’t complain. He comes because he loves me. Just between us, though, I only ask him to come ‘cause I like to see him squirm.”
The three professors shared a laugh, but Elijah and Miranda both noticed that Orlando’s sounded hollow. Miranda sighed and gave her full attention to the tall, uncomfortable man.
“Speaking of husbands and children, where is Cillian tonight?” Miranda asked, a thin smile staining her lips.
Elijah sucked in a breath, thankful someone had asked the question he had been dying to voice.
“Oh, um. Well. He’s…” Orlando shuffled in place and bit his thumbnail. “I expect he’s at home getting caught up with some reading. He’s had a long week. Loads of work. Also, he has an early meeting in the morning. This is just a stupid little thing anyway. It doesn’t matter.”
Elijah was silent as he watched his friend awkwardly shift his weight from one foot to the other, a blush high on his cheeks. Miranda didn’t miss the fidgeting either, but she was at a loss. She had tried to broach the subject with Orlando many times and always she was gently and self-effacingly rebuffed. With a displeased “hmm,” she kissed each man on the cheek and shuffled off to her display.
The silence that greeted her departure was almost deafening.
Elijah noticed a few people arriving and beginning to mill about. Now was not the time to get into deep discussions, so he went with plan B: distraction.
"You know what we should do next time?"
"What?" Orlando asked flatly.
Elijah ignored the tone and went on enthusiastically. "We should do a combined display with the pictures I took of you making that piece. Show the process and the result: photographs of it being made displayed with the piece itself."
"I thought you didn't like… I mean, you didn't… but if you think they're… and, uh." Orli stuttered to a stop.
"You thought I didn't like the pictures?" Elijah inquired, amused. "Because I don't have any up tonight?"
Orli nodded, blushing.
"Orli, they're some of the best pictures I've taken. I would have loved to show them, but I thought that you might not be ready for that."
"I, um." In truth, Orli hadn't thought he was ready. But a corroboration with Elijah? "You really like them?"
Elijah smiled, thrilled with the change in Orli as he forgot about Cillian. "I really do. Practically all of them could be up here," Elijah reassured him, gesturing at the wall.
"Oh." Elijah watched the gears turn as Orlando considered his idea, his growing excitement clearly visible. "It would be a very unique exhibit. And people are always curious about how ceramics is actually done, so it would be popular and educational. We could even do that with several other pieces, with different forms and include pictures of the glazing and firing in the display."
"That's a great idea!" Elijah beamed, squeezing Orli's shoulder to make sure Orli knew he meant it.
Orli smiled back, but before he could reply, a sharp voice interrupted him. "Orlando, there you are." Elijah jerked his hand back, but not before he felt tension fill Orli's body.
"Cillian!" Orli exclaimed as the man put an arm around Orli's waist. Cillian smiled, his eyes flicking to Elijah's face as he kissed Orli's cheek.
"You've outdone yourself," Cillian told Orli, who looked adoringly up at his boyfriend, but to Elijah, it looked as if all the fire had gone out of Orli and a shadow had replaced him. It was the first time Elijah had ever looked at Orlando and thought that if he were to take a picture right now, it wouldn't turn out well.
"Orlando, dear," Cillian drawled, cold blue eyes raking over Elijah. "Are you going to introduce me?"
“Of course!” Orlando’s faced colored with excitement and just the smallest bit of dread.
“Cillian, this is Elijah Wood. He’s the new assistant professor in our department.” Orlando gestured between the two men. He kept his face as neutral as possible. He didn’t want to do anything that would embarrass him in front of his new friend. “Elijah, this is my boyfriend, Cillian Murphy.”
Elijah disliked the man immediately, but he smiled wide, trying to be as friendly as possible. “It’s so good to meet you. I’ve heard nice things.”
Elijah held out his hand.
Cillian waited just long enough to show reluctance without being rude before taking Elijah's hand, his grasp too firm.
"Orlando, have you been talking about me, then?"
Orlando blushed and ducked his head, but didn't answer. Elijah had to squash the impulse to tell Cillian that no, Orli hadn't said a fucking thing.
"Will you show me your display?" Cillian asked, and without waiting for an answer, led Orli away.
Elijah sighed, watching them leave without a backwards glance. That could have gone better. He turned and focused on his work, keeping his back toward them so he didn't have to see the other man touching Orli.
** ** ** **
Cillian hadn’t missed Elijah’s casual molestation of Orlando before he had made his presence known, nor the way Orlando’s body welcomed the touch. Cillian also did not miss how Orlando’s eyes kept cutting quickly over to where the short, bug-eyed man was standing. He nodded appropriately, as Orlando pointed out this and that bit of nonsense in relation to his exhibit, but the whole time he was watching Orlando shoot glances to his left. Cillian wasn’t surprised when he caught Elijah gawking back at what was his. He wasn’t surprised, but he was curious.
Cutting Orlando off in the middle of a sentence he hadn’t been listening to in the first place, Cillian excused himself to the restroom. He held back a cruel smirk at Orlando’s hurt expression and made his way towards the back of the gallery to the stairs.
It wasn't hard to find Elijah Wood's office. Orlando had given him a tour of the building once. He wasn't even sure what he was looking for as he pushed open the unlocked door, but he needed more information before he’d know how to deal with the situation.
Cillian curled his lip at the mess in the tiny room, equipment and papers and other detritus covering every surface and spilling disgracefully onto the floor. At least no one would notice if he moved anything. He worked his way around the perimeter, finding nothing of interest. He was about to give up and go see what he could discover with some discrete questions to the crowd attending the exhibit, when he saw an abused folder with the edges of photographs sticking out haphazardly. Curious, he pulled it closer and opened it.
He flipped through image after image of the familiar face, each photo winding something inside him tighter. When he opened the folder below the first one and found more of the same, it snapped, and his scowl twisted into a snarl.
** ** ** **
Orlando had been waiting patiently for almost 20 minutes when he finally decided to go look for Cillian. He made his way through the crowd and entered the men’s restroom on the first floor. It looked empty, but just to be sure he called out very quietly, “Cillian?”
No answer. From there, Orlando made a swift but diligent search of the three restrooms on each floor of the building. His office was on the third floor so Orlando moved quickly down the hall to grab his cell phone from his rucksack. He would just have to call Cillian and find out to where he’d disappeared.
Orlando stopped abruptly in the middle of the hall. Would that make Cillian angry? He had come to the show after all, so he obviously wanted to be here. And he was a grown man. It’s not like Orlando had to watch him or know where he was at all times. He stood there, biting his lip and trying to decide how Cillian would react to Orlando phoning him concerning his whereabouts.
Just as he had decided to turn around and go back downstairs to wait, a noise from Elijah’s office caught his attention. Maybe Elijah had seen where his lover had gone. Orlando crossed the hall and called out to his friend through the partially open door.
“Elijah? Have you seen…” Orlando stopped in his tracks as he stepped inside. There stood the object of his inquiry pacing in the middle of the room, holding fistfuls of crumpled ruined photographs. “C- Cillian?”
"I suppose," Cillian said darkly, "that you have an explanation for this." He threw the photos into the air toward Orlando, who watched them flutter to the ground like dying birds, his own face glancing up at him as they spun.
Cold filled his stomach and pressure filled his chest, making it hard to breath, and he couldn't decide whether it was over the destroyed pictures or because Cillian had found him out. Cillian was still pacing, his eyes tracking Orlando with an anger that made it difficult to speak. He swallowed harshly and tried anyway.
"It-it's nothing. They're nothing, Cillian," and Orlando knew that he was lying to Cillian for the first time.
"Nothing?" Cillian growled. "If it were nothing, then why didn't you tell me?"
“I didn’t think… I didn’t…” Orlando felt his heart seize up in his chest and his lungs contracted pushing all of the oxygen from his body. “I didn’t want to upset you. You wouldn’t have understood.”
“What?” Cillian rushed forward and grabbed Orlando around the elbow gripping hard enough to make Orlando whimper. “You think I’m too stupid to understand that you and this fucking Elijah have been screwing around behind my back?”
“Cillian, please!” Orlando felt the tears begin to come to his eyes against his will. “You’re hur- hurting me!”
Cillian shook Orlando hard before tangling his fingers in his lover’s curls and yanking him closer, until he was a mere breath from Cillian’s face. Tears leaked from Orlando’s eyes and he yelped as a headache began to pound against his scalp. Cillian grunted and pulled him closer until his mouth brushed against Orlando’s cheek. “Now you tell me the truth, you little whore. Did you fuck him?”
"No! I-Cillian, no!" Orlando sucked in a breath, and Cillian could feel the trembling against his body. "I love you."
Cillian pulled Orli away, still gripping his hair, and examined him, eyes wide with tears and fear, body heaving as he fought to breathe, focused totally on Cillian. Orlando might even be telling the truth, but at that moment, it didn't matter. Whatever part inside himself that had broken out and taken control when he'd seen those pictures wasn't done yet, and neither was he.
He released Orlando's hair, saw with triumph the flash of relief in Orli's eyes, and then backhanded Orli as hard as he could. Orli went flying into the wall before falling onto the floor, too shocked to move. "Lies, you worthless bitch. I can tell when you lie to me."
Cillian stalked toward him, and Orli shook his head faintly, eyes watering at the pain it caused. "No…" he whispered.
Orlando’s jaw ached horribly and he could taste the coppery tang of blood seeping into his mouth from his split lip. He shuddered with fear as Cillian’s shadow overtook him and looked up into a face filled with loathing.
“Let me make something perfectly clear to you.” Cillian gripped Orlando by the hair again and pulled him up, viciously twisting his fingers and nails into the scalp. “You may be a worthless idiot whose only use is sucking my cock, but you are my pretty little cocksucker, and you will not fucking forget it.”
As much as Cillian’s actions hurt Orlando, his words hurt more. The artist began to cry in earnest. He had given up practically everything to be with Cillian, to be what Cillian wanted him to be. Orlando knew that Cillian thought he was silly, forgetful and maybe a little stupid from time to time, but he never expected to hear such venom falling from his lover’s lips.
”Cillian, please.” Orlando sobbed. “I would never… it was just work. Elijah and I were just-”
“Elijah? Elijah?” Cillian punctuated every word with a bang, knocking Orlando’s head into the wall with every pause. “I. Never. Want. To. Here. That. Name. Again.”
Cillian let go and Orlando whimpered as he slid down the wall. Cillian rounded on his lover. “I hope you enjoyed it, because you won’t be seeing him again. You won’t be seeing anyone. Tomorrow, you will fucking quit this pathetic excuse for a job.”
Orlando’s eyes grew wide, and he began to rally against the black edging his vision. He slowly pulled himself up from the floor, using one of Elijah’s tables for leverage. “Cillian, no! I can’t.”
Cillian saw red. “Don’t you tell me no, you fucking waste!”
He grabbed Orlando roughly, shoving him backwards with brutal force. The battered man’s legs tangled and before he knew it he was falling, the heavy wooden table coming up to meet him hard and fast. He threw up his arms to protect his face.
Orlando felt a white hot pain shoot down to his fingers and heard a sickening crack. He hit the floor limply, clutching his arm against his chest. Thankfully, he passed out from the pain and fear promptly as he saw Cillian’s shiny black shoe coming down on his midsection.
Several kicks left Orli sprawled, still unconscious and bleeding. Cillian stopped suddenly, his breathing harshly loud in the sudden stillness, yet unable to cover the ringing in his ears. He toed Orli's head so that it was facing him and spat, disgusted. His anger was gone as suddenly as it had come, and he left without a second thought.
** ** ** **
Elijah, telling himself he was on a mission to get one of his cameras and not searching for Orli, froze when he saw Cillian leave Elijah's own office and head the opposite direction to the staircase at the rear of the building. With a flare of anger, he stepped down the hall to see what the other man had done.
Orli's battered form in the center of his mauled office sent him reeling, and he threw himself on the floor next to the injured man. "Orli! Orli!" He felt quickly for a pulse when there was no response, sobbing in relief at the beat he found there. He couldn't tell if it was strong because his hands were shaking so badly, but at least he knew Orli wasn't dead.
"Help!" Elijah called, his brain unable to get past the weak rhythm that connected him to Orli's life. "You are not allowed to die on me!" Elijah choked out through tears. "HELP!" His scream echoed down the empty hall.
It was several more of Orli's heartbeats before he tore himself away to find the phone, Orli's blood staining everything he touched.
TBC...