(no subject)
Orlijah
warning: angst
“How long?” It’s the first words that have been said between them in more than twenty minutes.
Elijah pressed both hands hard against his chest, rocking forward in his chair, trying to control the pain there. He could feel his heart pounding in disbelief against his palm. He pressed down harder, halfway afraid it would find its way outside his chest if he didn’t.
Orlando watched, never so scared in his life as in this moment. He wanted nothing more than to pull his lover into his arms and hold him, until they were both free of the pain of his actions. But he felt he had lost the right to comfort Elijah, probably had lost it a long time ago. So he waited, biting the inside of his cheek until it was bloody and his mouth tasted metallic and dirty. This was the moment he could lose everything, and he could barely breathe waiting for what Elijah would finally say.
Finally, the wait was over. Elijah seemed to shudder and pull in a few deep breaths. His shaking hands left his chest and moved to cover his knees. He lifted his head, and Orlando saw the anguish, the suffering, on Elijah face, he lost all hope and tears sprang from his eyes making a mess of his lashes and leaving salty tracks on his cheeks. It was over. Elijah was leaving.
It took every ounce of his will to pull himself up. He moved away from his lover, who was still seated on the couch, watching his every move intently. Though the ache in his chest was almost too much, he managed one sentence before he left the room: “Thank you for being honest with me, Orlando.”
Elijah’s feet felt as if they weighed a hundred pounds as he tread wearily down the hall and into their bedroom. His ribs constricted tightly around his heart as he forced himself to make the correction in his head. Orlando’s bedroom.
He quickly filled a duffle bag with his toothbrush, contact supplies, and enough clothes to last him a few days. Succumbing to temptation, he grabbed Orlando’s favorite scarf from the where it was lying on the bed and brought it up to his face, breathing in the scent of his lover’s cologne and shampoo. With a disgusted sigh, he tucked it in the side pocket of his bag. He’d come back for the rest… later, when it didn’t hurt so much to breathe in their life together.
Elijah stopped on his way out of the house and stood at the entrance to their living room, duffle bag in hand. He ached to see Orlando still sitting exactly as he was. The man before him looked beautiful even in his obvious misery. He looked sad, lost, alone… exactly how Elijah felt. Clearing his throat to get his lover’s attention, Elijah nearly choked on his words. “Goodbye, Orli. I’ll be back to pick up my stuff… sometime. I… Goodbye.”
Galvanized by the sight of his lover’s words and retreating back, Orlando was up off the couch and chasing him down the hall in a heartbeat.
“Elijah, please!” Orlando stopped him just before the door, panic welling up in his chest. He pulled the shorter man around to face him. He ran his hand down Elijah’s arm and jerked the overnight bag from his fingers so that he could clutch his lover’s palm in his. “Please just hear me out! Don’t do this!”
“I told you the last time, Orlando.” Elijah swallowed around the lump in his throat and continued on, desperately fighting off tears. “I told you I wasn’t going to do this again.”
Elijah’s lips curled in an ugly sort of grimace, and he could no longer hold back his torturous thoughts. His free hand curled into a fist and he beat out his heartbreak on Orlando’s chest. “You don’t love me. I don’t know if you ever did… and I’m not sticking around just because I love you this time. It isn’t enough, Orli. I have to be worth more than that.”
Orlando squeezed tightly at the hand in his and his knees felt weak, just as they had during their first kiss, so many years ago. This time, gravity betrayed him as he lost all feeling in his legs and sunk to the floor, still grasping Elijah’s smaller hand in his own.
“Please!” Orlando fought through the sobs, choking on his words and trying to catch his breath. The pain in his chest was near to blinding and he found he couldn’t breathe or swallow around the staccato beat of his pulse. He held on desperately, cursing the sweat lubricating his palms and allowing Elijah’s hand to slip, painfully slow, from his.
The finality of the door shutting behind Elijah brought an end to his tears. He stared at the handle with aching disbelief waiting, praying for it to turn.
He found himself surprised to be proud that it didn’t.
warning: angst
“How long?” It’s the first words that have been said between them in more than twenty minutes.
Elijah pressed both hands hard against his chest, rocking forward in his chair, trying to control the pain there. He could feel his heart pounding in disbelief against his palm. He pressed down harder, halfway afraid it would find its way outside his chest if he didn’t.
Orlando watched, never so scared in his life as in this moment. He wanted nothing more than to pull his lover into his arms and hold him, until they were both free of the pain of his actions. But he felt he had lost the right to comfort Elijah, probably had lost it a long time ago. So he waited, biting the inside of his cheek until it was bloody and his mouth tasted metallic and dirty. This was the moment he could lose everything, and he could barely breathe waiting for what Elijah would finally say.
Finally, the wait was over. Elijah seemed to shudder and pull in a few deep breaths. His shaking hands left his chest and moved to cover his knees. He lifted his head, and Orlando saw the anguish, the suffering, on Elijah face, he lost all hope and tears sprang from his eyes making a mess of his lashes and leaving salty tracks on his cheeks. It was over. Elijah was leaving.
It took every ounce of his will to pull himself up. He moved away from his lover, who was still seated on the couch, watching his every move intently. Though the ache in his chest was almost too much, he managed one sentence before he left the room: “Thank you for being honest with me, Orlando.”
Elijah’s feet felt as if they weighed a hundred pounds as he tread wearily down the hall and into their bedroom. His ribs constricted tightly around his heart as he forced himself to make the correction in his head. Orlando’s bedroom.
He quickly filled a duffle bag with his toothbrush, contact supplies, and enough clothes to last him a few days. Succumbing to temptation, he grabbed Orlando’s favorite scarf from the where it was lying on the bed and brought it up to his face, breathing in the scent of his lover’s cologne and shampoo. With a disgusted sigh, he tucked it in the side pocket of his bag. He’d come back for the rest… later, when it didn’t hurt so much to breathe in their life together.
Elijah stopped on his way out of the house and stood at the entrance to their living room, duffle bag in hand. He ached to see Orlando still sitting exactly as he was. The man before him looked beautiful even in his obvious misery. He looked sad, lost, alone… exactly how Elijah felt. Clearing his throat to get his lover’s attention, Elijah nearly choked on his words. “Goodbye, Orli. I’ll be back to pick up my stuff… sometime. I… Goodbye.”
Galvanized by the sight of his lover’s words and retreating back, Orlando was up off the couch and chasing him down the hall in a heartbeat.
“Elijah, please!” Orlando stopped him just before the door, panic welling up in his chest. He pulled the shorter man around to face him. He ran his hand down Elijah’s arm and jerked the overnight bag from his fingers so that he could clutch his lover’s palm in his. “Please just hear me out! Don’t do this!”
“I told you the last time, Orlando.” Elijah swallowed around the lump in his throat and continued on, desperately fighting off tears. “I told you I wasn’t going to do this again.”
Elijah’s lips curled in an ugly sort of grimace, and he could no longer hold back his torturous thoughts. His free hand curled into a fist and he beat out his heartbreak on Orlando’s chest. “You don’t love me. I don’t know if you ever did… and I’m not sticking around just because I love you this time. It isn’t enough, Orli. I have to be worth more than that.”
Orlando squeezed tightly at the hand in his and his knees felt weak, just as they had during their first kiss, so many years ago. This time, gravity betrayed him as he lost all feeling in his legs and sunk to the floor, still grasping Elijah’s smaller hand in his own.
“Please!” Orlando fought through the sobs, choking on his words and trying to catch his breath. The pain in his chest was near to blinding and he found he couldn’t breathe or swallow around the staccato beat of his pulse. He held on desperately, cursing the sweat lubricating his palms and allowing Elijah’s hand to slip, painfully slow, from his.
The finality of the door shutting behind Elijah brought an end to his tears. He stared at the handle with aching disbelief waiting, praying for it to turn.
He found himself surprised to be proud that it didn’t.