perfect love

Disclaimer: it’s all fiction. Not real at all *sigh* and if you think it’s real you’re more than likely one of the poor LOTR star’s deluded stalkers (in which case stay away from me I have a pillow and I know how to use it!)

Nice thought for the day: the stuff you see Orlando Bloom covered in, in POTC isn’t muck it’s chocolate powder: mmmm chocolate covered Orlando. Yummy.
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People have got me wrong. Taken me for something I’m not. I’m a good person with a good soul and yes I’m an artist, but they always describe me as having an artist’s soul. I have to say I don’t think I do have an artistic soul. I have a romantic soul.
Do you know what the dienceence is? I’ll explain.
You see an artistic soul is made up of many things of ego, doubts, passion name any of the seven deadly sins and you can bet it is found in an artistic soul. But a romantic soul that is another thing altogether. I must have a romantic soul because all my life I have done everything I have because of love. I paint because I love it, I act because I love it, I write, well you get the picture I think. I’m even sitting here in the freezing cold of an airport terminal for love. Of course no one would guess that probably.

No one would think I was here because the man I love is coming off a plane and that is the reason I am sitting with my hands under my legs to stop me fidgeting (a constant habit of mine). I’m trying desperately to recall some of the character of Aragorn the part of his patience that I have never had. Well under normal circumstances I can wait hours for something. But I’ve never been like that where Orlando is concerned. All my calm, my wisdom that comes with age just flies out the window when I see him. Or even just hear his voice. His youth is infectious, just like his laughter. When I’m around him I never feel old. And I’m not afraid to admit to myself I am completely in love with him.
However admitting it to him, I don’t think I ever can. There are so many reasons not to. I made a list once; I have it in my head.

1) he’s straight
2) he’s too young for you
3) he’s too good a friend
4) What if I ever hurt him?
5) What if he ever hurt me?
6) He’s too good looking, too perfect, and too beautiful; to ever love an old fool like you.

It goes on and on. I think I have twenty reasons and counting. I add more every time I am tempted to tell him how I feel. It hurts like hell you know. But at least while I keep my feelings secret I can still be near him, be his friend and share a strong bond with him. He may not love me but he is one of my best friends and we have made it a point to see each other as much as possible even though filming is long over and Lord of the rings is wrapped and done. The premier of Return of the King in Wellington is in two weeks.
That’s why Orlando’s here now flying into L.A. on the red eye from London. He has been traveling almost constantly for two weeks from movie set to interviews and now to me. I check the screens directly above me again. His plane has landed about 15 minutes ago he should be out soon.

And there he is. Even now he is achingly beautiful. With bags under his eyes and the worst case of bed head I think I’ve ever seen. He has spotted me and all of sudden he goes from practically sleep walking to running bags and all straight toward me. I’m laughing on the outside and silently repeating all the reasons in my head why I shouldn’t hug him when he gets to me. I’ve found I can’t move or wipe the stupid grin off my face.
I’m rooted to the ground but that doesn’t stop Orlando. He reaches me and without blinking an eye his arms are empty of bags and tightening around my neck pulling me into a close embrace. I’ve stopped thinking of all those reasons and I return Orlando’s embrace with enthusiasm to match (if not outweigh) his. With anyone else this hug would be viewed as suspiciously close but Orlando has always gotten away with the little touches and hugs he offers everyone. He’s affectionate and people love that about him. I think everyone (especially me) secretly wish they had the self confidence and enthusiasm that just seems to shine from him.

“Hey Vig it’s great to see you! Promise me there’s no more planes right, no more?”

His eyes are full of sleep and ringed with dark circles. I know he’s joking but I’m already worried about him. I try and respond in a normal voice, but that’s hard, my throat tightens every time I’m near him.

“Don’t worry no more planes, no more hotels I’m getting you back home and into a nice warm bed”

Oh god! How lecherous must that sound! I pray he didn’t notice. Has he realized what I said, maybe he’s too tired. I’m lucky this time he’s too tired to even hear properly let alone the huge double entendre I just let slip.

“Mmmm, bed good, let’s go. Can you help me with these?”

I’ve grabbed all of Orlando’s bags before he has the chance to fight with me and by some miracle of traffic we’re home within half an hour. He slept solidly for the entire car journey. He never could sleep on planes they frighten the life out of him, even if he’s too stubborn to admit it. He looks so peaceful when he’s asleep I don’t have the heart to wake him when we get to my house. Once I have his bags in the hall I go to the car and gather his sleeping body in my arms he is much lighter than he should be, he hasn’t been eating properly. I thank the strength that I earned when playing Aragorn as I carry him easily into the house. Good thing my bedrooms on the ground floor don’t think I could lug him up the stairs. He still asleep when I lay him gently on my bed I disentangled my arms from around him. I just reached the door when his voice reaches me.

“Stay with me Vig, please. Don’t wanna sleep on my own”

I should walk away. Tell him goodnight, sweet dreams, but my own body betrays me and I’m already at the foot of the bed. I lie down beside him and tell him quietly that he can go to sleep now. He turns to me and smiles. He wraps his arms around me until his head rests on my chest and his legs are tangled with mine.

“No, now I can sleep. Night Viggo”

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When I woke in the morning the warm body that had been my pillow was gone and for a second I was afraid the night before had all been a wonderful dream and I was still in a hotel room in London. But as more of my brain woke up I realized the bed I was lying in was too soft to be the harsh hotel sheets and the smell wasn’t of antiseptic cleaner or air freshener. The room smelled of sandalwood and ginger and more importantly it smelled of my favorite thing in the whole world, Viggo. My brain is totally fogged from serious lack of sleep and—wait, wait I think I smell food.

FOOD! I didn’t think my legs would work but whaddya know I’m already in the kitchen, but I’m so tired I have to blink my eyes a few time before knowing what I see in front of me is real. There’s Viggo cooking up a storm at his gleaming silver stove. And there’s Dom! And Billy! And Lij! And Seans! (A and B) .nearly the whole fellowship’s here all stuffed into Vig’s spacious kitchen.

“Hey everyone! Every ones here? Huh?? What’s goin on Vig?

Well I was still asleep till five seconds ago! What did you expect, lucidity.

“We’re here to wake you up you lazy little elf you’ve been in bed till 12”

“Ever heard of jet lag Dom?”

I didn’t have the presence of mind to come up with a decent rebuttal. Didn’t matter since I was just launched on by Lij, the only other member of the fellowship known for his deep and lasting love of hugs. I get a hug out of each of them greeting everyone one by one (except Dom and Billy they come as a pair).Back to Viggo now, wanna hug Viggo again. Guess I can’t already, I got to last night it’d look way too suspicious hugging him now. Doesn’t mean I can’t get close though. I rest my head on his shoulder so I’m staring into the side of his face as he stays stationary over his pot.

“What’s cookin’ Vig?”

“Well you missed breakfast I’m afraid but lunch you are just in time for Orli. Chicken dumpling soup and Sean has kindly brought the salad and soup rolls.”

“Sounds great”

Really shouldn’t purr in Viggo’s ear. I can’t help but smile when I notice the hairs on the back of Viggo’s neck standing to attention. Then again maybe I should do it more.
I decide the smell of food is too tempting to not sit down and eat, and it’s great! It feels just like old times when everyone would turn up at one person’s house and just hang out for the day. You’d thin wou would have had enough of each other after weeks filming but thanks to some blessing by god everyone seemed to get on really well on and off set. The fellowship was a team. I’m still so tired that most of the conversation at the table passes right over my head which is buried in my dish anyway as I shove as much of the soup as I can get down my throat.

“Wow, man slow down you’re practically inhaling that soup dude”

“Haven’t….. Eaten…in a while….. hungry”

I barely manage to grunt out cave man style in between slurps. My activities were met with laughter by all except Viggo, who just looked at me even closer. Now his eyes traced my face. I know he could tell straight away I had lost weight. He can probably see the rings under my eyes, the frail outline of my body which didn’t quite fit in my clothes properly anymore. I can’t help it I always know when he’s looking at me it’s like I can just sense when he’s near or something. He didn’t say anything to me then. Not with everyone else around. But I’m sure he’ll have it up later. We spent the rest of the day lounging t Vit Viggo’s house we had vaguely discussed leaving the house, doing something useful with our time but we came to a united decision *best save the energy for tonight!*