They walked in silence, Orlando leading the way. He took them past the bar and the usual hangouts, walking them further down to the beach. Sean would, as well as himself, not want anyone to see them together. Neither wanted Viggo to know, but the reasons why differed greatly. Or maybe not so. But the night was pleasant and warm, and there were a lot of stars shining overhead, so Orli relaxed a little. He stopped just short of the actual beach. The faint sound of the waves mesmerized him for a small second, starflecked water moving predictably back and forth, undisturbed.
"Orli?" Sean's voice was careful, unsure. And suddenly the young actor couldn't take it anymore. He had planned every word of what he was going to say as doggedly as if he was going to testify in court, But when Sean said his name, he just couldn't take knowing what was going on, knowing the reason why they were standing in the middle of a night-dark forest to talk, instead sitting down somewhere like normal people.
"I wanted to talk to you," he bravely started. "About what's going on lately..." He paused and moved his hand to his hair, and tugged at an errant lock. There were times where having a full head of hair would have come in handy. The mohawk didn't give the same effect when you needed to run your hand through your hair like that.
"I just.. Oh screw it, I knew what I was going to say, and it was very convincing, damn it!" Orlando showed his hands down his jacket pockets and drew a deep breath. "Okay, here's the deal..."
Sean was watching him through narrowed eyes. "Orlando, have you been drinking?"
The younger man stopped and blinked surprised at him.
"I've...I've just had a couple of drinks..."
The other man took a step back. "I don't think this was a good idea, Orli. I should get back."
He nearly lost his balance as Orlando took hold of his arm and pulled him back in a quick, angry movement.
"No! You're staying here!"
It was strange, the feeling when you know you had lost control of the situation, and you couldn't have it back. Keeping his hold on Sean Orlando stalked closer. Together close like this they were about the same height, allowing him to look straight into the other man's eyes. He didn't like what he saw.
"You are going to listen to me, Sean." Orlando's voice was low. "You owe me. I've been watching you and that prick for weeks now, and I think I may finally be getting it, you know?"
"Let me go." Sean's voice was calm.
"Oh no. See, I have figured you out." The smile was sinister. Fingers dug deeper into Sean's arm.
"I think you like being slapped around. Why else would you stay with fucking Viggo?" He tightened his grip just a little more as Sean tried to move away. "What, that struck a little too close to home?"
"Orli, this isn't you talking..." Sean was almost whispering. "Let me go. Please."
Hearing the quiet plea and seeing the masked fear in Sean's eyes, Orlando closed his eyes.
Opening them again, he backhanded the older man across the face, sending him sprawling on the soft forest floor.
"Damn you!" He felt like crying. "Why can't you just listen to me, Sean? I don't want to be mad at you anymore, you used to be my friend!" He quickly got hold of Sean before he could get back up, keeping the other man down. "Now all you can do is stay with Viggo and let him beat you without so much as trying... Why can't you just listen to us?" He urgently framed Sean's face in his hands. "We're only trying to look out for you, don't you see that being with..."
A fist caught him under the chin, stunning him enough so that he was easily rolled off his captive. Swearing to himself, Orlando crawled to his feet and threw himself back at the Brit. They tumbled to the ground again.
"You're supposed to stay!" Before he knew what he was doing, Orlando had struck Sean again. Looking down he met green eyes, this time blazing with anger. Somehow he liked that even less than the fear.
"Get the hell off me, you bloody little shit!"
"That's it." Orlando felt a surrealistic calm set in. "I will not have you talking to me like that." Sitting on top of Sean, with the amount of alcohol he had consumed earlier, he felt something happen to his body. A blush crept over his features as he realised that the close proximity was turning him on.
Another look down revealed that Sean had felt it too, and was back to looking worried.
Very, very slowly Orlando reached out his hand and placed it on Sean's chest. Looking at his hand and not at Sean, he trailed fingertips down the soft fabric of the white T-shirt. Muscles and warmth met him and movement as Sean breathed. He hadn't really considered this. But it did feel really nice, having Sean underneath him, touching another man's strong body. It felt different. But in a way he could get used to. Nibbling on his lower lip Orlando went to explore further, sliding his hand upwards.
"You feel nice," he murmured.
One finger traced the neckline of the cotton T-shirt, not quite touching the skin underneath. His other hand moved low, fingers busily slipping under the hem of the shirt. Orlando held his breath as his fingers splayed on the smooth surface under it. Still he didn't look at Sean. The other man didn't move, if not for the slight tremble. Muscles tensed forcefully as Orlando's hand moved to the waistband of his jeans.
The first button opened willingly between his fingers. Unable to go on, Orlando ducked his head.
What the hell was he doing? Reality slammed into his head with a vengeance, freezing him in place as the thoughts in his head went berserk without a warning. His hand was still on Sean's chest as he breathed heavily. The urge to hit something draped itself around his mind, itching for the chance to lead the chaos in his head into something solid.
"I just wanted to talk to you." His hand pressed down. Aiming big, brown eyes at Sean, he added: "I missed having you around, you know... We never spend time together anymore." He shook his head sadly. "And now you made me go and do this. It's not fair." He let up a little, straightening his back.
The next thing he knew, he was on his back, face aching. The starry skies above sprinkled merrygorounds of starshine in his vision. Rolling over, Orlando heard more than saw Sean getting to his feet.
"Wait," he weakly protested, reaching out his hand. "Sean, wait, please, I'm really sorry..."
The sound of someone moving quickly over the leaves and grass was his only answer. Orlando got to his feet, unsteadily. He lasted three steps before he collapsed against the nearest tree.
"Stupid, stupid, stupid," he chanted, banging his fists against his forehead, curling up at the tree root. "Fucking stupid, stupid, stupid..."
He hadn't stopped to think ever since he had gotten back on his feet. Running back to the house, Sean quickly made sure that his clothes were properly on and didn't have any visible stains. Viggo would wonder why he had changed his clothes. So he put the coat back where it belonged and walked determinedly on into the bathroom.
Meeting his own eyes in the mirror, he released a shaky breath.
"You are not going to start crying," he told his reflection. "Damn you, you're not going to cry."
There was a telltale bruise spreading on his face. Most of was hidden by his short beard, but not enough. Standing perfectly still, Sean regarded his own image in the mirror. A plan formed, and it made him feel better knowing what to do. Blocking away every other thoughts than those that told him what he needed to do to make sure Viggo would never know, he turned his back on his reflection and walked away.
The kitchen was dark, so he turned on the light. Opening one cabinet he reached for a glass. Watching intently he dropped it on the floor, studying how it shattered against the floor boards. Carefully Sean kneeled down. Examining the jagged remains he soon found a larger piece of glass with sharp edges. Clutching it in his hand he rose back up.
The shard held between two fingers, the other hand on his cheek, Sean matter of factly placed the sharp edge against the bruise and cut. He pushed in deeply, making sure that it bled. Once there was a suitable amount of blood on his fingers, he threw the glass shard back to the floor. Then he went to get what he needed to clean up. When everything looked like it had before, he waited.
He always could tell when it was Viggo coming back. There was something in the way he walked, something that alerted Sean of his presence. Willing the sudden race of his heart back under control, he forced a smile on his face as the other man entered the room. He swiftly got to his feet and walked into Viggo's waiting arms.
"Missed you," he murmured, arms securely fastened around Viggo's neck.
"I missed you too, precious." Viggo tipped Sean's face to his so he could examine the cut. "What happened to your face, Sean?"
"I dropped a glass in the sink." The lie came smoothly. "A piece of it hit me in the face." He smiled sheepishly, looking at Viggo under his eyelashes.
"Sometimes you do worry me, pet." Viggo was fussing over the cut, lightly teasing him. "Did you clean it properly?" As Sean shook his head, he placed a kiss on Sean's forehead. "Come on, let's get you taken care of." He took Sean by the hand, leading him back to the kitchen.
Just as he turned around to follow Viggo, Sean's eyes landed on the coat he had wore earlier. And the clear trace of dirt and grass covering the sleeve. The sudden, hard hit of fear in his chest nearly made him lose his breath.
"Just a minute," he heard himself say. "You go ahead. I'm just...turning off the TV." Hurrying back Sean tore the coat off the hanger. Rearranging it with shaky hands he made sure the stain was well hidden. It would have to be enough for the moment. He allowed himself a few seconds to compose himself, then he went back to Viggo.
For the latest hour Billy had watched Orlando silently and steadily drink himself into a stupor. Dominick and he had been sitting in a booth in the back of the bar as the other actor had slinked back into the bar, situated himself by the bar disk and hadn't moved since. Billy couldn't quite see what it was he was drinking, but by the fact that Orlando now was more or less draped over the bar disk, told him that whatever it was it had certainly done the trick.
"I think we should get Orli out of here," Dom quietly stated, following the way Billy was looking. "I don't know what's going on over there, but he looks like he's about to pass out."
Billy nodded. "I'll deal with him." He was held back by Dom's hold on his hand. When he turned he found Dom smiling a little at him.
"Together, remember?"
"Of course. Sorry."
"It's ok." Dominick stole a quick kiss as they made their way out of the booth. "Let's go get Orlando."
Orlando didn't look up as Billy and Dom sat down on either side of him. He held on to a glass of clear liquid for dear life and was staring at it as if it held the answers to all of the secrets of the universe.
"Don't you think you've had enough by now?" Billy asked mildly.
Orlando emptied the glass he was holding, and signaled to the bartender for one more. Dom intercepted, shaking his head at the man behind the bar.
"No more. I'll take care of his bill."
"Hey!" Orlando turned to Dom, nearly falling off his chair in the process. "Fuck off, Dom... I'm gonna have another, I..."
"Shut up, Orli," Dom simply replied. "You're not getting anymore. I'm taking you home to bed."
A nasty smile curled Orlando's lips. "What, Billy's not doing it for you anymore?"
His smile was returned right back at him. "Oh yes, he does. He does it very well even. And when you're sober again, I am so going to remain you of this. Let's go." Pulling the other man off of the bar stool, he trusted Billy to be on the other side to ensure, how tempting it ever would be, that Orli didn't fall on his face. The brunet protested weakly as his two friends dragged him out of the bar.
"Uh...guys? I think I'm gonna... Oh my God..."
Seeing the pale face turn distinctly green, both Billy and Dom wisely let go as Orlando sprinted to the nearest bush, his latest drinks deciding to take a U-turn. Once it was over, he sank back to the ground, ashen and sweating. Wiping his mouth with his sleeve he remained on the asphalt. He started as arms came around him, gently helping him to his feet. The kind act had him reduced to tears in an instant.
"Orli? What's the matter? Dom, give me a hand, he's really out of it." Together they got the taller man to a bench, sitting him down between them. Orlando immediately curled in on himself, hiding his face in his hands. The feel of someone stroking his back reassuringly only made him cry harder.
"What the hell is wrong with him?" he heard Dominick ask.
"I don't know," came Billy's answer. "Did you get a look of his face? Looks like he was in a fight, or something." The conversation ended as Orlando was pulling in close to either Dom or Billy and held tight. Unable to form a single, comprehensive word, he let himself be held even though he knew he didn't deserve it.