Chapter Sixteen
"Fuck!"
"What is it?" Elijah asks, yawning profusely, shouldering his daypack and grabbing his CD-case from the coffee table. He looks at Dom, who swears again.
"This is going to be such a bad day - I just know it," he groans and kicks against the front door, frantically patting his pockets and scanning the nearest flat surfaces for his misplaced keys.
"Where the hell did I put them, Lij?" he asks, looking at his love. "For the life of me, I can't remember. We never once opened the door yesterday..." The memory of one of the laziest, happiest, sexiest Sundays of his life pierces through the five-a.m. fog that presently resides in his brain, and he actually smiles briefly before he kicks the door helplessly once more, realising that the necessary housekeys are still nowhere to be found.
"You're worse than I am with keys, Sblom," Elijah giggles, but starts looking for them as well, lifting magazines and jewelcases from table tops and patting the pockets of various items of Dom's clothing.
"This is so not my day," Dom mutters again, going through the mess on the kitchen counters. "It must be some form of divine punishment for too much happiness yesterday..." He sighs, dropping his arms in resignation. "And when we're happy we don't bother with cleaning up anywhere," he grumbles and leaves the kitchen, almost stumbling into Elijah who is just returning from the livingroom, triumphantly carrying Dom's keys, kissing him on the cheek while handing them over.
"You know," Elijah starts, once they're both safe and snug in the SUV that always comes to pick them up in the morning. "Even if we had not found your keys, you cannot possibly call this a bad day." He smiles and Dom gives him an uncomprehending stare.
"No Feet."
* * *
"Lij!" and Billy hugs him close, rubbing a warm hand over his back, showing him how glad he is to have the young actor back where he belongs, right here in their make up trailer. "Coffee?"
Elijah grins and shakes his head in mock-dejection. "Stomach can't take it yet," he mumbles, remembering how his stomach had been upset all Sunday. Instead he accepts a Styrofoam cup of tea from Dom, who walks in as if on cue, handing coffee to Billy and putting a cup of coffee on the counter in front of Sean's empty chair as well. Finally, he picks up his own cup from the tray and takes his seat, enjoying the comfortable silence in their trailer, watching how Lij closes his eyes and sips his tea absent-mindedly.
Elijah pulls his legs up into the chair, hugging himself for warmth, and pretends to be back in his bed, having to think of nothing but how protected he felt this morning when he woke up with Dom's arms wrapped around his naked body, and the sloppy, lazy kisses they had shared just before the alarm on the nightstand had harshly shocked them into familiar, early-morning, I-am-a-hobbit-in-The-Lord-of-the-Rings reality. He opens his eyes and puts the cup on the counter when he notices his make up artist coming up behind him, all set to put his wig on and turn him into a tired, tormented, haunted little hobbit. He smiles at her, and she smiles back, giving his shoulders a little squeeze, silently letting him know how glad she is he's back in his chair after more than a week of absence.
Suddenly, the door opens and loud, rapid talking makes everyone in the trailer jump. Closing his cellphone with a flick of the wrist, his nose buried in a stack of scripts, Sean makes his way over to the only remaining empty chair and flops down, snatching the cup of coffee from the counter, scanning the faces in the mirror and then double-taking as he meets Elijah's eyes.
"Hey," he says, his voice suddenly soft, almost timid, fighting the urge to cast his eyes down into the scripts again, just to escape the blue gaze. "Feeling better?"
"He wouldn't sit here if he weren't," Dom interjects crossly, putting his coffee down a little too forcefully, causing some of the contents to spill on his wig and other random items scattered on the counter. "Shit," he mutters and starts dabbing at the liquid with a wad of Kleenex, guiltily accepting a scowl from the woman behind him.
"Actually, Sean," Elijah begins, voice even, but only just. "I have had better days, but this job needs to be done. Let's just hope I'm not making a mistake here." He intensifies his gaze briefly, but, not really wishing to wait around for Sean's reaction, eventually closes his eyes again and retreats into the plush memory of Dom's lips on his skin.
Sean stares at Lij's face, at the thick, black lashes and the still hollow cheeks, and slowly takes in the short, snide reference to their discussion in his kitchen two weeks ago. The same discussion Lij had walked out of without saying a word, just getting up in the middle of a sentence, quietly kissing the top of Ali's head before she ran after him to the front door, waving at her beloved 'uncle' who never once turned around to wave back.
He had been around Elijah on set for two torturous days afterwards. Two days in which he had witnessed Lij falling seriously ill, often accompanying him to whichever available bathroom or just the nearest spot of privacy, holding him while he threw his guts up, offering to take him home more than once, yet always receiving nothing but a hurt look and a shrug from a distant Elijah who silently told him he wanted Sean to get the fuck out of his space.
Sean had backed off eventually, slowly realising that what he had initially perceived as a minor dispute and some serious display of the infamous Wood-pout, Lij had experienced in quite another way.
The moment Dom had entered the scene, Sean had started to fully realise the extent of his miscalculations, because on the very first day, the otherwise so cheerful Brit had struggled to exchange even the merest necessary pleasantries with him, and had steadily ignored him for the remainder of their mornings in Feet.
He had tried talking to Billy, but even the good-natured Scot had more or less given him the cold shoulder, telling him to talk to Elijah first and then to Dom and had left it at that. He had not, like Dom, ignored him afterwards, but had not invited him for a round of drinks in the pub either, which, in Sean's opinion, felt even worse.
Sean swallows. He is alone here, in this trailer of hobbits - he senses that now. But then again, there must be other people who will agree with him that this can't be more than a crush, an experiment, maybe even some form of desperation. He winces when he catches himself on that last notion, but shrugs it off quickly, harshly forcing himself to stick with his current train of thoughts.
Maybe Lij is desperate for something, Sean thinks, staring at himself in the mirror while his hair is being bundled in tiny elastic bands. Maybe Dom is filling painful voids, or just a bed during otherwise cold nights alone. And maybe this is something Sean understands perfectly, because the first thing he noticed about Elijah's stunning blue eyes at their very first meeting years ago, was the infinite loneliness they failed to hide.
He briefly glances at Elijah's reflection and finds the boy's eyes are still closed. Sean cannot help but think that as long as Lij is somehow willing to listen to him, he will try to talk him out of this. He doesn't want to cause him any pain, but he just cannot allow Lij to turn this substitute for love into a full blown relationship. He cannot allow it, because he knows that when all is said and done, when all the games have been played and there is nothing left to say, Lij is going to end up heartbroken.
And Sean loves Elijah far too much to ever let that happen.
* * *
The pub they all used to frequent in Wellington is crowded and noisy and just as they left it last year. A large booth at the back of the establishment has been re-claimed by a mutilated Fellowship of two hobbits, a man and a wizard, who had, at one point during the evening, welcomed a brother and sister of the Rohirrim and the second son of Gondor.
An elf returns from the bar, carrying various drinks in all colours and sizes on a tray.
"That was my round, guys," Orlando says brightly. "Took my chance before more people start showing up." He grins broadly at that and Viggo throws him a half-hearted scowl, but scoots closer to David nonetheless so Orli can sit down, nudging Viggo playfully and winking at Ian, who sits across from them and merely smiles, a twinkle in his gentle eyes.
"Dom coming?" Miranda asks Billy, both happily sharing the same square foot in the middle of the booth, sipping a glass of red wine and a massive pint of lager respectively. Billy shrugs, putting the beer down. "Dunno," he says. "I guess we'll have to wait and see." He lowers his head and, looking up through his lashes, he winks at her seductively. "The magnetic presence of a Took is not enough for a shieldmaiden of Rohan?"
She bursts into giggles and picks up her glass, pursing her lips, blowing him a kiss.
* * *
"Ready?"
"Can I say no?"
"'Course you can."
"But you'd hate me."
"Don't be daft. Hating you does not exist in my world."
"God, I'm nervous."
"Me too."
"Cigarette?"
"'Course not, and you shouldn't either."
"Now who's being daft?"
"True, sadly. Well - are we getting in or are we going to stand here until we take root?"
"Dom..."
"'Cause if the latter is the case I'd much rather take root on that bench over there and make out with you in public. Actually..."
"Dom!"
"What? Going in or making out? Not much of a dilemma, right?"
"You're an idiot."
"..."
"And I love you."
"In it is then?"
"Yeah... let's go."
* * *
Ian is the first to notice Dom and Elijah as they enter the pub, and rises immediately to wave them over. Billy casts a furtive glance in Sean's direction but the American doesn't seem to notice anything while he keeps up his conversation with Karl. When the two stray hobbits have made their way to the Fellowship booth, Ian folds his arms generously around Elijah and hugs him close. The others around the table notice the new arrivals almost just as quickly, erupting in loud cheers of recognition and casual kisses and a friendly slapping of backs. Extra chairs are being pulled up, and, to the amusement of a certain Ranger, the elf jumps up to get the two boys something to drink.
"My dear boy," Ian says, smiling broadly. "I heard you were back but missed you completely on set today. It's so very good to see you. Have you recovered completely?" Just as Lij opens his mouth to answer, Orli bounces between his and Dom's chairs and puts two pints on the table. "Man, it's good to see you, Lij," he breathes happily. "I sure missed you this week." And with those words he places a loud, wet kiss on Elijah's cheek, causing the whole table to break into laughter as Lij pretends to wipe the kiss off in mock-disgust. "I love you too, Orli," he giggles, blushing, and picks up his pint, eyes it for a few seconds, then puts it down again.
"I'm not too sure about this," he mutters, shrugging insecurely, contemplating his options. "Maybe I'd better have something without alcohol in it..." He looks at Orli, then Dom, then Ian. He pointedly ignores the fact that Sean is staring at him, wordlessly pleading with him to refuse the drink. No one says anything.
"Maybe I should just try and see if it agrees, right?" he offers, slightly rebellious, and takes a tentative sip, then another one, until Orli gives him his most blinding smile and waggles a threatening finger in Lij's face. "Don't ever scare me like that again, Doodle," he grins. "You not drinking alcohol..." He shakes his head and proceeds to bluntly join Viggo and Karl in whatever they are talking about.
Lij smiles, mainly to himself. This actually feels quite good. He looks at his beer. Feels good too. He promises himself just one pint and then, if he has the energy to stay, he'll probably switch to water or juice. Probably. Best be careful with a stomach that cannot even take coffee.
He is well aware of Sean's continuous stares at him and his glass, disapproval written on his face in big fat block capitals, the struggle not to interfere being fought right behind the hazel eyes. He picks up his beer and raises the glass close to his face, setting his jaw determinedly and throwing Sean a brief glance, acknowledging the fact he knows he's being watched, and putting enough of a scowl in his eyes to communicate that, for once, he is not impressed. Sean's eyes darken just a fraction, but Elijah refuses to feel the slightest bit guilty.
He averts his gaze quickly, as it is threatening to soften under Sean's on-going scrutiny, and is trying hard to ban the conflicting feelings of sincere love and plain anger from his mind and instead looks at Ian, who is sitting next to him. Suddenly he remembers the wizard's initial question, and he spots his escape route. "Ian," he says, a little too brightly, and before he knows it, he's talking a mile a minute again and feels like he's never been away from these people in his life.
* * *
"Right," Viggo starts, sitting up from his slouched position, giving Dom a meaningful stare, a half-smile dancing around his lips. It is nearing midnight and everyone is pleasantly buzzed, apart from Ian of course and Elijah, who had changed to water two rounds ago. "Just out of mild curiosity, guys, because I think everyone has noticed Dom heading off in a new direction to get home, but when were the two of you ever going to explain to us what's going on with these new and improved living arrangements of yours?"
Dom whips his head around to Elijah, who simply stares at Viggo and is frantically trying to wrap his brain around the fact that here it is, staring him straight in the face; this is the storm outside.
He exhales, crushes his clove in the ashtray in front of him and a small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth when he feels Dom's hand coming to rest between his shoulderblades. The hand doesn't move, it just lies there, warm and familiar, anchoring him, proving to him it is perfectly safe to step out of the eye of the storm.
"Well, Viggo," Lij starts, and cannot help but shiver, willing his blush down that is kicking and screaming to present itself. "Dom moved in with me because I asked him to." Viggo grins softly, leans forward and rests his head in both hands, still watching Lij intently, opening his mouth to ask some more.
"You know what, Viggo?" Sean suddenly interrupts and next to him, Karl involuntarily winces and moves the slightest bit away from the American. "I think all of this is really none of your fucking business, and I really don't think you should answer him, Lij."
Elijah feels how Dom's hand tightens on his back, and he turns to look at the Brit, silencing him with the sudden glacier blue of his eyes, in which fear and anger are no longer fighting for dominance.
In a split second, the table has gone completely quiet, and besides Viggo, who is looking venomous daggers at Sean, and Miranda, whose hand has moved to cover her mouth from which a tiny gasp escaped, no one moves or dares to say a word.
Apart from Sean, that is.
"I'm serious, Lij," he says, and it is Ian who notices the hint of desperation in Sean's voice. "Don't turn this into something it isn't. Because..." he pauses to gasp for breath, suddenly realising where he might be taking their friendship tonight. "I know you're fooling yourself. I just know. You're going to leave here in a few weeks and-"
"Shut up," comes the quiet whisper from Elijah's mouth, and initially Dom is the only one to catch it, his hand relaxing once more and sliding to the small of his lover's back. Yet, Sean continues to spill his guts, his eyes pleading, his voice on the verge of breaking.
"Shut up," Elijah says, louder this time, and as Ian closes his eyes, a ghost of a smile starts to trace Viggo's lips again. Sean is still too pre-occupied to actually hear anything, but he sees words being formed on Elijah's lips, and somewhere in his brain it registers that he should stop talking and start listening but he can't - he just can't.
"Will you please listen to me, Lij, this is a mistake, man, you're ma-"
"Shut the fuck up!!" Elijah bursts out and is on his feet in a flash, knocking his chair to the floor, yanking Sean right out of the booth and across the table, causing glasses to topple and beer to spill. Dom and Billy both jump up from their seats as well and Sean frantically tries to say something - anything - to get through to a fuming Elijah.
"Lij, please, let-let me go, what's wrong with you?"
"Shut the fuck up!! Just shut up!!" Elijah is practically screaming by now, blindly tightening his grip on Sean's shirt, his eyes dark and scary and blazing with fury. He vaguely notices the sudden panic in Sean's face, but is long past caring.
"You think you know me so well," he hisses, his voice shaking with weeks and weeks of pent up Confusion and rage. "But what do you really know about me? About my life? About who I love?" He pulls Sean's face closer to his own and looks into frightened eyes. "Absolutely nothing! Nothing, you hear?! Fucking nothing!" And with a loud thud, he forcefully throws Sean back onto his seat, ignoring the loud gasps of pain and the rattling of glasses on the slippery table.
Leaning heavily across the booth, hands splayed on the table's wet surface, Lij stares Sean straight in the face. "You don't know me at all, so stop treating me like you do! I am not one of your children, I am not your little brother, and I am certainly not a fucking possession!" His chest is heaving as he strains to force the words out, eyes bright with angry tears.
"Who are you to tell me what I can or want or should? My brother? Don't think so. My father? Absolutely fucking not!" He takes a deep breath, and two tears slip out of the corners of his eyes.
"You don't own me, so stop telling me who to love or why. That's my decision, and mine alone. I want you to butt out of my fucking business, Astin! 'Cause you are wrong! You hear that!? Wrong!!" Tears are falling steadily now, but he doesn't care anymore.
"I love Dom. I have loved him for a fucking long time, and I am no longer allowing the likes of you to stop me from finally admitting that! So fuck off, Sean - just fuck off!" Elijah whirls around abruptly, furiously sidestepping the chair on the floor, and storms out of the bar.
* * *
Dom slowly picks up his wallet and Lij's cigarettes from the table and walks away, not once looking back at the bewildered, disheveled people in the booth.
* * *
Chapter Seventeen
Meet Confusion Index