Love Lost and Found

Chapter 2/?

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//...// denotes thoughts

He moaned and rolled onto his side, cautious not to put too much weight on his left arm. He frowned as he noticed that the sun was setting again. The darkness had already begun to fade from his room. //No!// tired he yanked the covers over his head and curled into a foetal position. He hadn’t even slept yet. //Maybe you should just drink something… you’d be able to sleep then… oh, yes great!// he thought sardonically //start drinking alone… you’ve never had enough, haven’t you? Just add an alcohol-addiction to the list! Oh stop it!// he chided himself //You’ve drunk alone often enough! No need to change that now…//
Slowly he got up and made his way to the small cupboard in the living room. With shaky hands he took out a bottle of vodka and stared at it intently. Half full. Or rather: half empty.
His lips curled in disgust. //Not enough…// sighing he emptied it in one long gulp. It was still better than nothing. He made a mental note to stock up on his favourite lemon-flavoured vodka after the weekend while eyeing the remnants within the cupboard critically.
Finally he decided to settle for some Bailey’s before tip-toeing back to his room where he curled up on the bed again. He shook his head a few times, what resulted in a lightly dizzy feeling. The effect of the alcohol had started to set in. But that did not keep him from thinking. No matter how hard he tried he was never drunk enough to forget the thoughts that plagued him. Or to silence the little voice at the back of his mind. He continued to roll his head from one side to the other and back again but too soon the effect weakened.
//Fuck! Half a bottle of vodka and I’m getting sober again!//
Taking a swig from the Bailey’s he sighed and lay back again. No mattow mow much he drank these days he was never drunk enough to have a hangover afterwards. He was a bit grumpy at times, yes, but he never had any serious headaches. Unlike the Hobbits, who were hung-over almost every Monday. //The Hobbits…// suddenly Orlando began to feel how alone he was.
Totally and utterly alone. A dull throbbing in his left arm reminded him that the only thing which kept him going was also separating him more and more from the others.
//No one to really talk to… about everything… no one to listen to… no one to love or be loved by…// He closed his eyes and immediately felt himself falling into a deep, dark, bottomless pit of despair. Allowing himself to fall into the hole inside of him he let the feelings wash over him, which he normally suppressed. Loneliness, hurt, desperation, a need for comfort, doubt and above all fear. Fear of being rejected once others knew who he really was. Fear of not fulfilling his expectations. Fear of having to interact with the others during work. Fear of not talking at all and the fear of being unable to hide one day. //Yes.// he thought bitterly. //You’re always hiding. No matter how much you fool and joke with the Hobbits, it’s nothing but a lie… everything you do is just one big lie… you are nothing but a lie… and who would want to live with or close to a lie? Or even want to talk to a lying bastard like you?// He sighed and then started to drink, long gulps without putting the bottle down, only stopping to gasp for breath as his stomach started to feel queasy. For a moment he waited, taking deep steadying breaths till the bout of sickness had passed. The bottle was nearly half-empty. 10 minutes later the bottle was totally empty and he managed to toss it to the floor before falling back into the pillows. A lopsided grin appeared on his face as he noticed that the room was spinning. //Spinning… just like you are spinning your web of lies… catching all those who want to know you… they only get to know the lie… never the real you… not anymore… once was bad enough…// He groaned as yet another wave of uncontrolled emotion hit him. //Still not drunk enough to stop thinking…// He’d better stop thinking. His thoughts had started to wander in dangerous circles lately.
For a moment he debated getting up and cutting at least a little bit to get a grip on his emotions. //But you’d have to get up…// he reminded himself and then decided against it. //Too tired to move anyway…//
Another quick glance at the clock confirmed his worst suspicions. 7.30 am. “Fuck!” Ignoring his raging thoughts and trying to concentrate on the pleasant roaring inside his head he finally drifted off into drunken oblivion and at least some semblance of sleep.

It was already past midday as he woke again. He didn’t know how but he had managed to actually sleep some hours without waking again. He didn’t have a headache. //Just like I expected.// he sighed. Grumbling he got up and searched the kitchen for something that his stomach could keep down. He hadn’t eaten much during the last week. He ´just wasn’t hungry anymore. And if he was even the thought of food made him fell nauseated. Finally he decided to settle for some toast. Maybe that would work. He switched on the radio as he waited for his breakfast. //Wind of change… oh no! Please not…// He switched it off again, not wanting to listen to that song right now. It was too beautiful. And too sad. The last few days had been bad enough, he didn’t have to listen to sad songs on top of everything else. He stared listlessly at the now golden toast in his hands and the, slowly began to chew on its edge.
Only seconds later he dashed to the bathroom. “No…” he mumbled as he bent over and clutched his stomach. Bile rose in his throat but he quickly forced it down again as the doorbell rang. Still a little bit dizzy he stumbled towards the door and opened. Shocked he stared into his visitor’s face and then, painfully slow, gulped as he struggled to find his voice.
“Viggo… what do you want? Why are you here?” Quickly he put his left hand behind his back, glad that he had put on a pullover as he got up. //He’s here… he’s truly here… but why? Why should he visit you? He must have a reason to! He’d never visit you on his own… why should he want to?//
“Orlando? Orlando?” Slowly Orlando noticed that Viggo was talking to him. “Orlando? Are you alright? You look like death warmed up…” Viggo eyed his young co-actor anxiously, taking in his pallor, the dark circles beneath his eyes and the distant and dazed expression in his eyes. “Mind if I come in?” He finally asked again, carefully scanning the Brit’s face for his reaction but he only sensed disbelieOrlaOrlando?” repeated Viggo once more “Are you going to let me in?”
“Um… okay… come on…” Orlando tried to smile as he stepped aside. At once Viggo took thanceance and entered, brushing Orlando aside and headed to the kitchen. For a moment Orlando stared after Viggo before he followed him. Viggo was already cluttering around in the kitchen, pouring water into a kettle and pulling cupboards open in search of something.
“Viggo? What are you doing?” he whispered finally.
“Why, I’m making you some tea, of course. You look like you need it…”
“I had trouble sleeping but…” //Wait. Viggo. Making tea in your kitchen. On a Saturday afternoon…// Orlando slowly tried to assess the situation. //Viggo would never be in my kitchen on a Saturday… let alone make tea for me… I must be dreaming still… that’s it… I haven’t woken up yet…//
“Orlando?” his dream-Viggo asked “Would you like to sit down? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost…” Not trusting his voice Orlando simply nodded and sat down. He didn’t understand the dream yet but he decided to go along with it. Better than waking and having to face reality anyway. //Funny…// he thought as he watched his dream-Viggo make tea //You’ve imagined something like this so often… have dreamed of talking to him… and now that you actually dream of him it feels so real that you don’t know what to say… just like always…// He smiled thankfully as he accepted the steaming mug of tea Viggo gave him and allowed himself to watch Viggo closer, as the older man settled himself on the other side of the kitchen table. “Orlando?” dream-Viggo asked after a while “What was the matter yesterday?” Orlando almost choked but managed to control himself. //No! This is my dream! Why is he asking me this? I don’t want to explain…//
“I know you don’t have to explain anything to me,” Viggo continued “But I was worried when you ran out of the bar like that… without even saying good-bye…”
“I’m sorry…” whispered Orlando //It’s your dream…// he thought //Why don’t you tell him? He won’t know anyway…// “I wasn’t feeling well. My stomach’s been upset for a few days now and I just needed to get to to may house…” //`my house`// he realized as he trailed off //always just `my house`, never home…//
“I see…” nodded Viggo slowly and poured himself a mug of tea. “You’re not feeling better today, are you?” Orlando shook his head.
“Perhaps you’d better get into bed” dream-Viggo suggested helpfully “A few days of rest may be just what you need…” Orlando stared at the older man. He had dreamed of Viggo in his bed, yes, and he had dreamed of Viggo taking care of him, but his dreams had never been like this. Bewildered he shook his head. “That’d be good… I guess…” he croaked finally.
“Good.” Smiled Viggo, “Take as much time as you need. If you don’t show up for work on Monday, I’ll just tell PJ that you’re ill, okay?” Dumbfounded Orlando nodded again and stood up. This dream was entirely too realistic to his liking. The sudden altitude made his head spin and he swayed on his feet for a moment. //Well now you see what you get from drinking vodka on an empty stomach…// He blinked in surprise as he suddenly found himself steadied by Viggo’s strong arms. This was more like his previous dreams of the older man. “Are you sure you don’t want to see a doctor? Someone must be at emergency-call… or we could get you to hospital…” asked Viggo worriedly. Orlando shook his head. //Okay… not like you dreams at all.// he sighed //But it still is your dream…// Smiling wistfully he allowed Viggo to lead him to the bedroom. Viggo frowned as he saw the bottle of Bailey’s in the corner and a blood-stained tissue. He had already seen the bottle of vodka. Instinctively he tightened his hold of Orlando.
Orlando groaned as Viggo accidentally pressed on the wound on his arm. //It’s a dream…// he calmed himself //it doesn’t matter if he notices the bandage…// A quick glance at Viggo told him that the older actor seemed to be oblivious to his injury. //Good.//
Struggling Orlando refused to let got of Viggo as the blond tried to lower him onto the bed.
“Stay…” he whispered “please… I don’t want to be alone anymore…”
Sighing Viggo seated himself on the edge of the mattress. “Orlando, you’re ill… we really shouldn’t..”
“Yes we should.” Interjected Orlando and pulled Viggo even closer, gazing deep into the other man’s eyes. “I probably won’t see you like this again but” “Orlando, what are you talking about?” Orlando ignored Viggo’s question. “But that doesn’t matter, you see? Tis mis my dream, you wouldn’t be here otherwise.. you can make me forget like this and”
Again Viggo interrupted him. “Orli, this is no dream, please come to your senses!”
“But I have dear… I have…” answered the Brit “by dreaming of you I can finally be myself, you see?” “No… I” Viggo’s reply was muffled by Orlando’s kiss. Kissing Viggo wasctlyctly what he had dreamed it to be he noticed, as he managed to slip his tongue past Viggo’s lips and slowly explored the other’s mouth. “Orlando..” Viggo groaned and pulled the young man closer “This isn’t… we should not…” Again Orlando silenced the blond with a kiss.
“It’s my dream, Viggo” he smiled “of course we should.” With these words he lay back and fell asleep.

He awoke smiling, still recalling his dream of Viggo. //I kissed him in my dream…// he thought //I really did it…//. Feeling happier than he had for weeks he got up and looked at the clock. 8.17 pm. //Time to grab some dinner// he thought almost cheerfully and went into the kitchen. He stopped dead in his tracks as he saw the two used mugs and the folded piece of paper on the kitchen table. //No!// he thought frantically //That can’t be true! It can’t have been real! I dreamt that!// He closed his eyes but as he opened them again the mugs were still on the table. And they still refused to go away as he closed his eyes another time.
//Oh no!// he groaned //I told him to stay… and I kissed him! How could I? How could I even believe he might want to kiss someone like me? How could I do that to him? He’ll never speak to me again!//
His hands shook violently as he took the note Viggo had leim aim and slowly opened the paper.

~Orlando
I know you did not mean the things you said when I was here earlier and I want you to understand that I know what you must feel like. I am sorry for what happened and shall ensure that it won’t happen again. I will leave you alone in the future. I know.
Viggo~

Orlando’s eyes filled with tears as he read the message. //He knows! But how? I didn’t tell him, did I?// A few choked sobs escaped his lips but they turned into hysterical laughter soon afterwards. Still clutching the note he went into his study. //He knows. And he will leave you alone. See?// he mentally said to himself //You knew he’d turn and run once he found out!
And all that because you were too drunk to separate dreams from reality! He’ll surely tell Pete and the others… I know him… he always worries… he probably thinks that I might give Elijah or some of the others ideas once they find out… I can’t go back to them… not ever…//
He seated himself at the desk and picked up a pen and a sheet of paper. He knew what he wanted to say, now he only had to put it into words.
Slowly he began to write, for the first time in more years than he dared to count feeling tears run down his face.

Tbc…