Too Deep, Too Real, Too Right

What have I done to him? What was I thinking?

You lie beside him, listening to the subtle changes in his breathing as he moves deeper into slumber. For one week, you and he have shared this room. You've made love only once since the first time. He can tell you're holding back now, trying to withdraw from him, and he doesn't understand why. Before long, he'll start thinking you lied, that you want to be rid of him now that you've had your fun. You know this without him saying a word. But nothing could be further from the truth. You want him now more than you ever have. It's all you can do not to throw him against a wall and kiss him in front of the whole cast, as if to say Look! We're in love, and we don't care who knows!

But you do care - you *have* to care. It doesn't matter how long he's pined for you, or how much he loves you (and God, you know he does - one look from him leaves no doubt of that). The fact remains that he has a wife and children, and you have no right to destroy his family just because you want him all to yourself. You've decided, after weighing the evidence, that you clearly weren't thinking at all.

As you have almost every minute of every day since that first night, you replay what happened, seeking out the myriad moments when you could have stopped the whole thing dead. When you could have said no, gently pushed him away, and let that be the end of it. But it wouldn't have been the end - you know it as surely he lies next to you in the gloom right now. The sheer torture of *almost* having him would have driven you mad, and you'd have ended up right where you are anyway.

For the next three days, you're both free to do as you please while other actors shoot their scenes. Plenty of time to talk things out, come to an agreement, make him see that this can't go anywhere. The price is far too great, and one you'd never ask him to pay.

In the late morning, he finally wakes. If he notices how tired you look, he says nothing, but he does cast a concerned glance or two in your direction as you dress.

"You okay?" he finally asks.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

He doesn't buy your forced smile for a minute, and walks over to sit down heavily on the bed. "Lij ... what's goin' on here?"

Your stomach turns to ice. You sink down slowly beside him and close your eyes.

"I mean," he continues, fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt, "I thought - well, we - " Here he sighs throws up his hands defeatedly. "Fuck, Elijah ... " He lowers his head and sits for a minute or two with his eyes closed, collecting himself. You say nothing, because you have a feeling he's about to say everything for you.

Finally he sits up straight and heaves a great sigh. "You said you loved me. Was that bullshit, or what?"

"No, no way." You shake your head adamantly. "I'd never say that if I didn't mean it."

"Then why ... ?" He throws up his hands again. "You've been actin' like - I dunno .. like you got what you wanted, and - "

"Sean, that's not it, I do love you. I *do*." Your words come out in a rush, you grab his hand and squeeze it, making him look at you so he knows you're serious. Then you remember you have other things to say to him. You drop your eyes, get up and start pacing the room.

"*What*, then?"

He watches as you locate a pack of cigarettes, tap one out and light it. You know he wants to say Don't do that in here, but he won't - partly just because he loves you, but mostly because he wants you to get on with what you've started to say. Your can't hide the trembling of your fingers, and a bit of ash shakes loose and floats to the carpet. He doesn't notice.

"Look, Sean ... " you begin. "I don't know why this happened with us, okay? I mean - " you take a few deep drags for strength. Already, you're feeling a little calmer. "I've never been with a guy, *ever*. Never even thought about doing that." Another drag, and this cigarette will be a distant memory. You take the drag, and light up again.

Now you decide you can sit down, and you do so across from him, in a chair. You're still for a moment, looking at the floor, your hands clasped before you as you think what to say next. The cigarette burns like incense between your fingers. You feel his eyes on you, waiting for the raising of your head.

"Then *you* come along - " You do look up at him now. You can tell from the softening of his eyes that he's finished the thought for you - Then you come along, and everything changes.

"Look, lemme lay it out for you, okay?" A couple more drags as you gather your strength. "I can't - we can't ... do this. It's not right."

He looks down, closes his eyes, and sighs heavily as you push on.

"I don't need to remind you that you've got a wife and kids." He looks up, shakes his head, and starts to speak, but you signal for silence. "I know I should have said no at the start, but I didn't. I made one mistake already, okay? I'm not gonna be a home wrecker, too. This has to end now, before anyone else gets hurt."

"Lij - "

"I don't wanna do this, but I have to, you understand?" You wave aside his interruption, determined to finish this. "I won't break up your family."

"'It's already *broken*, Lij! OKAY?"

His shouting stuns you into silence. You look at him, confused, then listen as he explains. He and Christine have been separated for months, agreeing to live in the same house only until his work on Lord of the Rings is finished. For the girls' sake, he says. The press doesn't know, he tells you, because no one else knows yet. You are the first to have this information.

"Ow!"

You jerk your hand back, realizing that you've been so focused on him that you've forgotten to smoke - your cigarette has burned down to the filter. He waits silently while you pick up the butt and flick it into a garbage can, meeting your eyes steadily when you look back at him. When you open your mouth to speak, you find that you suddenly have nothing to say.

"Was that it?" he finally asks you. "Was that the only reason?"

You want to say Yes, but all you can manage is a puff of air as you nod your head. The two of you stare at each other, unable to move, unable to look away. The enormity of the situation is beginning to make itself very clear - in less than a week's time, your life has done an about-face, along with everything you knew (or thought you knew) about yourself. The road you now travel is slowly, but surely, being cleared of obstacles.

Once again, the slow, dreamy syrup of that first night takes over as he gets up and walks over to you. With the lightest of touches, he coaxes you to your feet and kisses you deeply, despite the fact that you've just finished smoking two cigarettes. You want to ask if this bothers him, but words are beyond you now. You feel his hand in yours as he leads you to the bed and starts undressing you.

"We have three days," he says softly, unbuttoning your shirt.

You just nod and watch him work.

"We could try some ... y'know ... different stuff, if you want." He blushes and swallows hard as your shirt slides off your shoulders and hits the floor. "I, uh ... kinda wanted to see what it's like to ... y'know ... " He shrugs, embarrassed.

"What?"

Now the dream syrup has crept into your voice. You're mesmerized, powerless to do anything but watch as your jeans join your discarded shirt. He pushes you down onto the bed and wordlessly answers your question. Your mind is gone now, taken over by the dreamtime again. Your last coherent thought is that you will never again look at his mouth and not think of this day.