Balancing a social life with celebrity can never be made easy, but Elijah had set three sacred rules after his career-pausing puberty and life-saving sexual epiphany to make them balance as best he could. The rules kept his friendships smooth and his film shoots breezy. The rules kept him sane.

1) Never fall for friends.
2) Never fall for co-stars.
3) Never fall for straight boys.

But what can you do with rules when you meet someone like Orlando?

�Hey, �Lij, roll me the eight ball.�

Elijah pushed the billiard ball across the green felt, watching it bounce against the bumper by Orlando�s hand. His hand linked with another hand.

Elijah tried not to stare, tried not to glare at the brunette girl holding Orlando, her body pressed as close to his as back room pool hall decorum would allow. The fan kept the lamp swinging back and forth and the shadows between their linked bodies stretched and diminished hypnotically, making Elijah keep watching even when he didn�t want to.

He grabbed the chalk cube and focused on the blue powder dissolving in the air as he coated the end of his pool cue. The way she and Orlando spoke to one another, the way they looked together, the way she fit in with Orlando�s strange sense of humor, they were perfect. Elijah felt sick to his stomach.

He hated the discordantly graceful way Orlando leaned over the table, the end of his cue balanced on his fingers, ready break the neat, triangular configuration. He hated the way Orlando�s jeans pressed against his thighs, showing muscles strengthened by weapons training, and the way his shirt pulled taut across his shoulders. He hated the strip of pale skin and the edge of whimsically printed boxer shorts peeking out above the slipping waist of his jeans. He hated his smile and his way with women; he hated that Orlando wanted to have his way with women.

The balls clattered and scattered over the felt, making a constellation on the green. The eight ball, two solids and four stripes made an almost perfect formation of Orion and had they been alone, Elijah would have mentioned it. He and Orlando would have laughed about it, maybe even taken a picture, thinking it was the coolest thing ever only to have the others not really care when they showed them the developed photo weeks later. They rarely stopped laughing when they were together, but Orlando never saw the possibility, the potential.

Orlando�s girlfriend playfully stole his pool cue. She kissed him on the cheek and slid her hand under his shirt, exposing the shadow of a sun-shaped tattoo. She laughed and the sound went straight to Elijah�s heart, cutting deep. As she leaned over to take her shot, Orlando�s hands found her hips, distracting her with squeezes and teasing pats. Elijah was glad she was only visiting for a short time, but it wasn�t short enough. He knew that tonight, she would kiss Orlando, hold him, make love to him.

Elijah�s jaw ached from clenched teeth as he walked calmly to the wall and set his pool cue neatly back in line. Fuck it, he thought. He lifted his jacket from the coat rack and took measured steps toward the exit. He couldn�t be here anymore. His legs trembled. It seemed unfair that Orlando could make him feel this way. Elijah knew more, had done more, had a career; a newbie with no experience shouldn�t be allowed to do this. Fuck it all.

��Lijah? Where you going?� Orlando caught up with him at the open door. The wind from outside whipped around them, enveloping them in cold. �Is something wrong?�

Elijah stared up at him, into that woundingly beautiful face. His heart ached, his stomach hurt, his throat felt tight with tears. All he could see were those deep brown eyes he wanted Orlando to focus on him, really focus on him, see him, because Orlando never really saw him. He didn�t really know who he was.

This was why he had created those three rules. He hated this heartache eating him whole, make him feel decaying and rancid inside. He hated that he was acting unprofessional and being a bad friend. He hated himself when he was like this.

And he hated Orlando for making him break his rules.

Fuck it, Elijah thought. Fuck Orlando�s girlfriend. Fuck Orlando�s laugh that made his stomach flutter. Fuck his smooth skin and dark hair. Fuck his friendly hugs. Fuck his smile and his scent and his presence. Fuck unrequited love. Fuck his own goddamned heart for forgetting it was an organ designed for pumping blood and not for stumbling every time Orlando said his name. Fuck New Zealand and fuck the movie that brought him here. Fuck fictional Elves; fuck their liquid voices and their tight leggings. Fuck surfing and snowboarding and pool halls. Fuck billiard ball constellations and missed opportunities. Fuck that high pitch Orlando�s voice rose to when he got excited and the way he rubbed his eyes when his costume contacts itched. Fuck the wind for blowing and the sun for shining. Fuck fate and life and eternity. Fuck his own hands for wanting to touch bare skin they could never touch. Fuck straight boys, fuck co-stars, and fuck friends. Fuck all of it. Fuck everything. But most of all �

��Lij, man, you okay?�

Elijah stared into Orlando�s wide, concerned eyes. �Fuck you,� he said, and walked out, letting the door slam behind him.

A/N: And so ends my homage to the f-word. Here�s the link to the song lyrics: http://www.danah.org/Ani/Dilate/UntouchableFace.html