Green Dark by shegollum -- Part 10/?
Sep. 26th, 2005 06:10 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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rugbytackle***PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE heed the warnings. But also trust me in the long run, okay? :-)***
Title: Green Dark by shegollum -- Part 10/?
Author: shegollum
Pairing: Viggo/Bean; includes some Orlando, too.
Rating: R - NC17
Summary: Morning after the night before...where are they in this strange new space?
Warnings: Angst; mental cruelty/instability; possibly non-con; cutting; substance abuse -- you name it...we've probably got it.
Disclaimer: No truth in it at all.
Archive: Viggo-Cursive and rugbytackle.
A/N: Not beta'd. All errors are completely mine and mine alone. If you like it, please take the time to let me know. Its always appreciated. Thanks a bunch.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Banner bestowed upon me by the monstrously talented Amanda (![[profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
legomyarrow). I am not worthy, but I LOVE it so much. Thank you, sweets. :-)
Sean grunted his displeasure as he dropped his bag on the bed. Orlando resisted the urge to tell the man to grow the fuck up and instead was very deliberate in his unanticipated host duties. They were at a house in the Hollywood Hills, an isolated place at the end of a long road. The house and the small amount of acreage on which it sat belonged to a friend of Orlando’s. The man was currently out of the country and Orlando had called him the night before to tell him he was finally going to take him up on his long-standing invitation to stay there and take a break from the city life. The young Brit neglected to tell his friend that he was bringing along a mate with a substance abuse problem and a chip on his shoulder the size of a cave troll.
Walking around the older man, Orlando turned on a lamp in the corner and then helped himself to the leather desk chair. He swiveled around to find that Sean had taken a seat on the edge of the large bed and was looking right at him, his face none too pleasant.
“Well?” the older man growled.
“Well what, mate? Welcome to Shangri-Fuckin’-La. And yeah, you’re welcome.”
They’d slipped out of the high profile hotel that afternoon, taking with them a few boxes of empty scotch and beer bottles as well as a week’s worth of dirty clothes. The used linens had been dumped anonymously in the downstairs laundry room and trash bins had been emptied into larger bags that were then hauled outside as they left.
Sean glared at his rescuer, his palm scraping over raspy stubble as thumb and forefinger rubbed at his chin. Orlando stared back, refusing to break the connection first. He was satisfied to finally hear a muttered “fuck” as the older man got up quickly, moving as though breaking away from a confinement. His muscular back rippled under his silky shirt as he rubbed his face with both hands, sighing loudly.
“I know I’m being a shit. And I’m sorry about that. But I can almost guarantee you that I’m going to be even more of shit here for a while, Orlando.”
“I know… I do. But trust me, mate, you’ve never been a real walk in the park. You’ve always acted like you had a stick up your ass.”
He was rewarded when Bean spun around quickly, the outraged and irritated look on his face giving way to a rueful chuckle at the contagious grin on the other man’s face.
“Yeah, you’ve always been quite the prick, Bean.”
Bean laughed at him then and threw himself back down on the bed, lying back across it with his arms stretched out at his sides, palms up and fingers splayed. He started speaking softly, sadness and shame in every word.
“I have been such a fuck-up. Me girls… I haven’t seen them in too long. Couldn’t let them see me like I’ve been. Haven’t even spoken to them.”
“Do you want to call them now?” asked Orlando gently.
Sean rolled to one side, propping his head on a bent arm, facing Orlando.
“No. I… I think I need to get – what does everyone say? Dried out? – first. I’ll call their mothers later so they know that I’m not dead. Not yet, anyway. But not me girls yet.”
“Okay. How about your agent or anyone like that? Do you need to let any of them know anything?”
“No. Thank you, Orlando. But no. I don’t have any active obligations right now.”
“Okay,” said the younger man, taking a deep breath and plunging ahead into the next question. “And what about Viggo, Sean? Are you ready to call him?”
The intensity of Bean’s gaze didn’t change in the least as he held Orlando’s gaze, but he paused for a long unsettling moment before he spoke.
“There is nothing for me to say to Viggo, Orlando. Not now. And not in the future. This is not something that can be fixed. It’s not worth trying to fix. So stop.”
“How can you say that, Bean? You were best mates! More than that. I’ve never seen two people together like you two—“
“Stop. Please don’t talk about this, Orlando. There’s nothing more to be said.” The older man looked exhausted.
“Bean. Just think about this. You and I both know that no relationship is perfect. But you two were close, mate. Meant for each other if anyone ever was. Whatever happened can be fixed, yeah? You just need to talk to each other… get yourselves straightened out.”
Bean’s eyes closed and for a long time he didn’t say anything. Orlando could see him clenching and unclenching his jaw, the hand on the bedspread tightening into the dark blue fabric. Finally he opened his eyes again, the green shiny and sorrowful.
“You don’t know, Orlando. You think you know. And I thought I knew. But we make mistakes. And if we’re smart, we cut our losses.”
Orlando leaned forward in his chair, elbows on his knees, intent on somehow getting through.
“It wasn’t a mistake. You two always belonged together. Your mistake was in taking so long. And then in giving up too fucking soon.” His exasperation was evident and Sean reacted with anger.
“What makes you so fucking sure that I am the one who gave up? Saint Viggo may have had a thing or two to say about it, don’t you think? Or can he never do any wrong?”
“It’s not that he’s a saint, you cunt. It’s that he hides things. He’s a fucking lunatic in a lot of ways and maybe he’s hurting as much as you are.”
“He’s hurting, is he? He didn’t show any signs of that when I last saw him, Orlando, so let’s not assign him attributes he doesn’t have. I don’t think he’s quite the sensitive poet you’ve lusted after all these long years.”
At that, Orlando leapt from his chair, ready to head out of the room, the house, the friendship. But something made him stay and fight.
“You’d never know whether he was hurt or not, would you? You opted to hide out in your scotch and call it a day without ever looking to see what he was thinking or feeling! Or doing, for that matter. Maybe he’s turned into a fucking drunk like you, Bean. Or maybe worse.”
“You’re right, I did go underground. Have taken in all the scotch I could and then some,” the other man seethed, his face livid with rage. “And I did it ‘cause that fucker couldn’t have cared less about my pain either, now could he? You weren’t there, Orlando, so don’t pretend you know all there is to this story. It’s not a story for children though, or I’d tell it to you.”
Sean glared at him with disgust and stood, searching pockets until he found his cigarettes, and then he was out the door, leaving Orlando looking after him and wondering what to do next. He included leaving the country on his short list.
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Title: Green Dark by shegollum -- Part 10/?
Author: shegollum
Pairing: Viggo/Bean; includes some Orlando, too.
Rating: R - NC17
Summary: Morning after the night before...where are they in this strange new space?
Warnings: Angst; mental cruelty/instability; possibly non-con; cutting; substance abuse -- you name it...we've probably got it.
Disclaimer: No truth in it at all.
Archive: Viggo-Cursive and rugbytackle.
A/N: Not beta'd. All errors are completely mine and mine alone. If you like it, please take the time to let me know. Its always appreciated. Thanks a bunch.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Banner bestowed upon me by the monstrously talented Amanda (
legomyarrow). I am not worthy, but I LOVE it so much. Thank you, sweets. :-)Sean grunted his displeasure as he dropped his bag on the bed. Orlando resisted the urge to tell the man to grow the fuck up and instead was very deliberate in his unanticipated host duties. They were at a house in the Hollywood Hills, an isolated place at the end of a long road. The house and the small amount of acreage on which it sat belonged to a friend of Orlando’s. The man was currently out of the country and Orlando had called him the night before to tell him he was finally going to take him up on his long-standing invitation to stay there and take a break from the city life. The young Brit neglected to tell his friend that he was bringing along a mate with a substance abuse problem and a chip on his shoulder the size of a cave troll.
Walking around the older man, Orlando turned on a lamp in the corner and then helped himself to the leather desk chair. He swiveled around to find that Sean had taken a seat on the edge of the large bed and was looking right at him, his face none too pleasant.
“Well?” the older man growled.
“Well what, mate? Welcome to Shangri-Fuckin’-La. And yeah, you’re welcome.”
They’d slipped out of the high profile hotel that afternoon, taking with them a few boxes of empty scotch and beer bottles as well as a week’s worth of dirty clothes. The used linens had been dumped anonymously in the downstairs laundry room and trash bins had been emptied into larger bags that were then hauled outside as they left.
Sean glared at his rescuer, his palm scraping over raspy stubble as thumb and forefinger rubbed at his chin. Orlando stared back, refusing to break the connection first. He was satisfied to finally hear a muttered “fuck” as the older man got up quickly, moving as though breaking away from a confinement. His muscular back rippled under his silky shirt as he rubbed his face with both hands, sighing loudly.
“I know I’m being a shit. And I’m sorry about that. But I can almost guarantee you that I’m going to be even more of shit here for a while, Orlando.”
“I know… I do. But trust me, mate, you’ve never been a real walk in the park. You’ve always acted like you had a stick up your ass.”
He was rewarded when Bean spun around quickly, the outraged and irritated look on his face giving way to a rueful chuckle at the contagious grin on the other man’s face.
“Yeah, you’ve always been quite the prick, Bean.”
Bean laughed at him then and threw himself back down on the bed, lying back across it with his arms stretched out at his sides, palms up and fingers splayed. He started speaking softly, sadness and shame in every word.
“I have been such a fuck-up. Me girls… I haven’t seen them in too long. Couldn’t let them see me like I’ve been. Haven’t even spoken to them.”
“Do you want to call them now?” asked Orlando gently.
Sean rolled to one side, propping his head on a bent arm, facing Orlando.
“No. I… I think I need to get – what does everyone say? Dried out? – first. I’ll call their mothers later so they know that I’m not dead. Not yet, anyway. But not me girls yet.”
“Okay. How about your agent or anyone like that? Do you need to let any of them know anything?”
“No. Thank you, Orlando. But no. I don’t have any active obligations right now.”
“Okay,” said the younger man, taking a deep breath and plunging ahead into the next question. “And what about Viggo, Sean? Are you ready to call him?”
The intensity of Bean’s gaze didn’t change in the least as he held Orlando’s gaze, but he paused for a long unsettling moment before he spoke.
“There is nothing for me to say to Viggo, Orlando. Not now. And not in the future. This is not something that can be fixed. It’s not worth trying to fix. So stop.”
“How can you say that, Bean? You were best mates! More than that. I’ve never seen two people together like you two—“
“Stop. Please don’t talk about this, Orlando. There’s nothing more to be said.” The older man looked exhausted.
“Bean. Just think about this. You and I both know that no relationship is perfect. But you two were close, mate. Meant for each other if anyone ever was. Whatever happened can be fixed, yeah? You just need to talk to each other… get yourselves straightened out.”
Bean’s eyes closed and for a long time he didn’t say anything. Orlando could see him clenching and unclenching his jaw, the hand on the bedspread tightening into the dark blue fabric. Finally he opened his eyes again, the green shiny and sorrowful.
“You don’t know, Orlando. You think you know. And I thought I knew. But we make mistakes. And if we’re smart, we cut our losses.”
Orlando leaned forward in his chair, elbows on his knees, intent on somehow getting through.
“It wasn’t a mistake. You two always belonged together. Your mistake was in taking so long. And then in giving up too fucking soon.” His exasperation was evident and Sean reacted with anger.
“What makes you so fucking sure that I am the one who gave up? Saint Viggo may have had a thing or two to say about it, don’t you think? Or can he never do any wrong?”
“It’s not that he’s a saint, you cunt. It’s that he hides things. He’s a fucking lunatic in a lot of ways and maybe he’s hurting as much as you are.”
“He’s hurting, is he? He didn’t show any signs of that when I last saw him, Orlando, so let’s not assign him attributes he doesn’t have. I don’t think he’s quite the sensitive poet you’ve lusted after all these long years.”
At that, Orlando leapt from his chair, ready to head out of the room, the house, the friendship. But something made him stay and fight.
“You’d never know whether he was hurt or not, would you? You opted to hide out in your scotch and call it a day without ever looking to see what he was thinking or feeling! Or doing, for that matter. Maybe he’s turned into a fucking drunk like you, Bean. Or maybe worse.”
“You’re right, I did go underground. Have taken in all the scotch I could and then some,” the other man seethed, his face livid with rage. “And I did it ‘cause that fucker couldn’t have cared less about my pain either, now could he? You weren’t there, Orlando, so don’t pretend you know all there is to this story. It’s not a story for children though, or I’d tell it to you.”
Sean glared at him with disgust and stood, searching pockets until he found his cigarettes, and then he was out the door, leaving Orlando looking after him and wondering what to do next. He included leaving the country on his short list.
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no subject
Date: 2005-09-26 01:08 pm (UTC)You are such a talented writer
no subject
Date: 2005-09-26 09:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-12 07:03 pm (UTC)PS: Have I mentioned yet how much I admire your courage in writing this? These are HUGE risks you're taking, with some difficult subjects. Seems to me you're relaying the complexity of things like substance abuse and self-harm really very well. Of course the more I read of yourwork, the more I realise you're not capable of being trite or superficial.
Right. *takes deep breath* Onto the next scene...