Date: Tue, 05 Jul 2005 09:56:30 +0000 From: Matt Davidson Subject: Orli, Chapter 12 (Revised) Disclaimer: I do not know Orlando Bloom or any other celebrities who may or may not appear in this story. It's a work of fiction, that I made up. Although, my birthday is the same day as Orlando's. I don't know how that affects anything, but I just like to tell people. I have no idea of Orlando's sexuality, but this story is not implying anything about it. Again, I say, FICTION. This story isn't going to be all sexy, all the time. It'll probably get steamy, but you'll have to give it a while. It's like soup. It needs to simmer before it can boil. However, any eroticness you do read, is going to be homosexual man-on-man action, so if you're under 21, 18 or however the hell old you have to be where you are, go and have a sandwich. If the thought of guys doing 'stuff' offends you, you might want to go and have a snack also. Well, I think that's about it. Oh, no, hang about. If you steal my story I will be very angry. E-Mail me before you post it anywhere else, or ooh, I'll be cross. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- Heh. This is the revised version of Chapter 12. Where my spellchecker didn't turn into a dictatorship and make me call him 'Oral' every two lines. Heh. I'm only human!!!! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- ORLI Chapter Twelve I awoke in blackness. Well, not quite blackness, but hey, give me a bit of dramatic licence, OK? Having just been knocked unconscious in a stampede, I feel it's my prerogative how black the blackness is. It wasn't exactly what I'd expected. It was somewhere between utter blackness and a complete lack of black, if you get what I mean - kind of halfway between being there and black and not being there at all. I couldn't look around the space I was in. For a moment, this caused me to panic. The panic only lasted for a moment, though, because then something happened that convinced me that I was hallucinating, or dreaming, or dead. A teeny-tiny, miniature, no bigger than my hand, Colin Farrell hopped onto my chest and started hitting me on the nose with a pitchfork. Yes, that's right, a pitchfork. Mini-Colin was also wearing a red PVC bodysuit, and a pair of deep red horns were growing out of a mop of messy blond hair, circa Alexander. Adding to the ensemble was a bright red spiked choker and two red spiked bracelets, as well as a black belt with red spikes. Even miniature, he was hot. I allowed him to hit me on the nose with his little mini-pitchfork for a few seconds more while my brain tried to work out exactly why a Mini-Colin was whacking me. This was obviously leaving it too long. A teeny-tiny, miniature, no bigger than my hand, Bono from U2 hopped onto my chest and kicked Mini-Colin over the other side. Mini-Bono from U2 was wearing a long white robe that would make a nice nightdress, and was holding a harp. Above his head, a gold halo shone gently with an inner light. Mini-Bono from U2 waltzed over to me and started staring into my eyes. I stared back. Mini-Colin climbed back onto my chest and stared as well. Me too. 'What the?' I said. Whoo! I could talk, at least. 'Indeed,' said Mini-Bono from U2 solemnly, nodding his head. Mini-Colin grinned, and adjusted him in the groinal area. 'Am I dead? Or dying?' I asked, thinking, what the hey, let's go with it. 'Nah,' said Mini-Colin dismissively. 'I don't think so, anyway.' He scratched himself absently. Mini-Bono from U2 played a few notes on his harp. 'No, you're not dying. You're hallucinating.' 'Ace. Any particular reason I'm hallucinating the two of you? And why are we going with the Devil/Angel theme? Aren't you guys supposed to come out when I have a moral dilemma? I mean, my choice here is basically waking up or not, right? Or am I, like, at a moral crossroads?' I was confusing myself. Which I thought was pretty impressive, unconscious as I was. 'Who says the choice between life and death is not a moral crossroads?' intoned Mini-Bono from U2. Mini-Colin smacked his ass and chuckled. 'Nah, we're just you havin' a hallucination. S'cool. Don't panic.' He grinned a wicked grin and smacked Mini-Bono from U2 again. 'I'm very confused,' I said. 'Can I wake up now?' 'Hang on,' said Mini-Colin while Mini-Bono from U2 levitated slightly, humming to himself. 'Not yet . . . no . . . no . . . no . . .' I was just about to raise the question of exactly why my inner representations of both good and evil were Irish celebrities when Mini-Colin said 'NOW!', which made Mini-Bono drop his harp. I felt myself being yanked upwards as if somebody had attached a hook just behind my navel and yanked. Wind rushed past my hair and I heard Mini-Colin laughing while Mini-Bono from U2 cried 'Where'd my harp go?' and I hit something big and white - ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- - and leapt up in bed, shouting 'I think you dropped it off the side!' A doctor and about five million nurses stared at me like I'd grown horns and spat vinegar from my eyes. One of the nurses obligingly glanced over both sides of the bed. 'I don't think anyone dropped anything, sweetheart,' she said patronisingly, patting my hand. 'I wasn't talking to you,' I said stonily. 'I was talking to Mini-Bono from U2.' Ha. That stopped everyone in their tracks. 'Of course,' smiled the nurse. 'My mistake.' The doctor was whispering something ominous to one of the other nurses. Hmm, imminent psychiatric evaluation for the crazy man. Things did not look good for our hero. That's me. The door burst open in a cavalcade of heavenly light, and a glorious white steed issued forth, carrying with it a handsome prince bathed in light and wielding a sword to protect my honour - Or, more accurately, Orli charged in like an epileptic platypus whapping a nurse over the head with a newspaper. But, hey, he's my handsome prince. 'Sir' - whap - 'you' - whap - 'can't' - whap - 'go' - whap - 'in' - whap 'while-the-doctor-is-talking.' Whap whap whap whap whap. 'I heard Matty yelling nonsense,' Orli said breathlessly as the nurse finally gave up and went off to read up on whether newspapers could cause brain haemorrhages. 'Yes you did,' agreed the doctor, 'We're afraid that when he hit his head he could have -' 'No, you don't understand, if he's talking nonsense then he's fine!' cried Orli happily, bouncing past the staff and hugging me until I couldn't breathe anymore, which is dangerous for people who've just finished being unconscious. 'Are you OK, baby?' he whispered in my ear. 'Better now,' I smiled back, hugging him briefly before he stood up and turned to face the medical staff. 'Is there anything else?' he asked the doctor, who by now appeared as though he'd given up all hope of his hospital ever being normal again. 'No, I believe that everything should be fine. Just be careful about bumping your head,' he said. 'Oh no, I'm doomed,' I deadpanned, and both me and Orli fell about laughing while the doctor evacuated the room in case the crazy was catching. As soon as the door swung shut, Orli had my face in his hands and was kissing me gently, his lips pressing against mine and his hands gently stroking the sides of my face like they could turn back the clock and make me not have been unconscious. His fingertips brushed the side of my temple and I winced, hissing slightly as a throb of pain swept through my head. 'Poor baby,' he whispered in my ear, bringing his fingers lower again. He paused for a second, his nose resting against mine, his eyes closed. When he opened them again, tears were brimming in the corners. 'I was so scared. You weren't moving.' 'No, silly,' I smiled, wiping the tears away. 'I was busy with Mini-Colin and Mini-Bono from U2.' 'There's an explanation, there, I know there is.' He took a deep sigh and his eyes brightened again. 'Hey, I was on my way to get a drink but I came back when I heard you yollering. You want anything?' 'A Diet Coke with vodka would be fantastic.' 'I can do the Diet Coke. I don't think they do vodka in hospitals.' 'Is it any wonder the NHS sucks so bad?' He smiled and left. I lay back in bed, smiling to myself and imagining all the healing sex I was going to be having with Orli tonight. There was a knock at the door. 'Come in,' I called, chuckling to myself. Orli's gallantness had apparently returned. Honestly, knocking on doors before you entered a room. where did you learn things like that? The door swung open, and a small woman with long, blonde hair tied behind her head in a ponytail peeked through the doorway and flashed me a smile. Her face looked a little too drawn back over her face and her smile seemed a little false. Something about her put me on edge, but I wasn't sure what. ''Mr Brannan?' I continued to look at her. 'Matthias Brannan?' 'Oh! That's me.' It had been so long since anyone had called me by anything remotely close to my full name that I'd almost forgotten it. To my friends I was Matty, and any post I got that called me 'Mr Brannan' I ignored because it probably meant something about money. And also I liked to batter to a pulp anyone who called me Matthias. It also didn't help that if people knew my name was Brannan, it wasn't too many steps away that they connected me with the billionaire mogul Maximillian Brannan, and that was not a connection I wanted anyone to make. He was my father, and not many people knew that, and I wanted it to stay that way. She smiled at me again with that bizarre smile and continued into the room, like she came from a bizarre country where 'That's me' meant 'Come into my room and do whatever you like, my new best friend.' Ooh, I had to call Natasha. I tuned back in to hear Fake Smiley Woman say: '-oom?' 'Pardon?' I asked politely, noting that she was in fact now sitting practically on top of me. 'My name's Cecily, I work backstage at the theatre, Clea sent me to see how you were. You and Mr Bloom.' 'Clea cares? I mean . . . Clea cares?' She laughed slightly. 'I think she's just worried that you're going to screw up the opening this Friday.' I smiled back at her, trying to figure out what it was about her that made me so on edge. 'Well, I should be fine. Clea has nothing to worry about.' 'Fantastic,' she beamed falsely at me. Falsity-false false. What was it? 'Ooh, one more thing before I go . . .' Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial 'Just-between-us-girls' voice. Or, more accurately, a 'Just-between-us-girls-and-gays' voice. 'What's going on with you and Mr Bloom?' I started slightly but managed to know completely spaz out and throw her off the bed. 'What do you mean?' The cast and Clea knew about me and Orli, but it wasn't public knowledge. The whole of the theatre didn't know. What was she talking about? 'Everybody saw the two of you the other day. It's OK, Mr Brannan, really, you can tell me. Everybody knows.' What the hell was she talking about? Me and Orli had been more careful than that. Hadn't we? 'Look,' she said. 'I understand you not wanting to say anything to me. But somebody took these photos. Do you have anything to say about that?' She reached into her bag and pulled out three black-and-white glossy prints. My mouth opened slightly in astonishment as I saw them. Each one of them was of me and Orli kissing somewhere - in the backstage area of the theatre, in a hidden portion of a restaurant - and even one horrible, horrible picture that brought butterflies to my stomach that showed us kissing in the corridor outside our rooms. I felt my heart skip several beats as I looked down at the evidence that could destroy Orli's career. My eyes flicked over the photos again. These photos hadn't been taken by some random guy from the backstage crew at the theatre. These were professionally-shot photos, someone had been paid to take these to catch the light just right, reflecting off exactly the right parts of our faces to make it clear who we are, getting just the right angles so there would be no confusion over what we were doing, adding in background details that were difficult to fake to make the picture more real. I remembered the last time I'd seen photos taken like this. and suddenly I knew what it was about the woman. I knew what she reminded me of. If there's one advantage to being a billionaire's son, it's that you meet people from a very early age that you wouldn't normally meet otherwise. It makes it easier for you to notice them for what they are later on. 'You're a reporter,' I said, looking up at Cecily - and sure enough, she had that stupid, hungry look that reporters get when they think they're just about to hit on something really big. a notebook appeared out of nowhere and I swear she almost stuck her tongue out with anticipation as the pen hovered above the notebook. 'What's going on with you and Orlando really, Matthias? I think we both know what these pictures imply. And so will everyone, once they see them, so you may as well get a soundbite in, make sure your side of the story is heard.' I looked her square in the eyes. 'Fuck. Off.' I really hate reporters. 'Come on, Matthias.' 'Stop calling me that.' 'Why make things harder for yourself?' Her hand, which up until now had been on the bed, shifted to my thigh and started moving up it. Whether it was supposed to be comforting or erotic, I have no idea, but her hand didn't get halfway before Orli's hand appeared from nowhere and grabbed her wrist so hard that she yelped. Orli dragged her off the bed, yanking her hand away from me, and stood right in her face, his eyes flickering at me briefly before turning back to Cecily. 'Don't you ever fucking touch him again,' he growled in her face. 'Mr Bloom, I -' 'You hear me, you stupid, fucking bitch? Ever.' 'Orli,' I said, startled. I'd never heard him talk like this, to anyone, what could she possibly have done? 'Matty,' he said in a very calm, very scary voice. 'Meet the woman who pushed you down the stairs.' 'What?' My voice suddenly sounded very small. 'This bitch' - his grip must have tightened on her wrist, because she let out a little gasp - 'is the moron who pushed you down those stairs. And judging by how quick she got here and just exactly how diligent she was in finding you, I'd say it wasn't just some accident. Was it?' Cecily looked me in the eyes. 'The public have a right to know.' I didn't even see Orli move, but all it took was a couple of seconds before the door had been thrown open and Cecily landed on her ass in the hallway. Two surprised-looking security guards looked at Orli and then grabbed her arms and hauled her away. I could hear her shouting as the door shut. 'I've still got copies, boys! Everyone has a right to know!' ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- We both sat on my bed. Well, Orli sat on my bed. I continued to lie in it. 'I am so sorry,' I said at last. 'For what?' Orli's voice was gentle. 'For what?' I repeated incredulously. 'I've ruined your life! The press'll be all over you, this is exactly what we were trying to avoid -' 'Shut up, Matty.' I did. 'I don't care. Yeah, maybe this isn't the perfect way to let the world know, but it's a way, isn't it? I love you more than I've ever loved anyone, my whole life. When you were brought in here and you weren't moving, I felt like part of me had died. Do you understand? You showed me the most amazing thing that anyone has ever showed me - you showed me what it means to love, and to be loved, and there isn't anything that I would rather have experienced. You're the most important person in my life, Matty, now or ever, and I don't care who knows it.' He leaned forward and kissed me. I felt the sparks running between our lips again, our tongues touched and my head felt like I'd been spun round in circles. After a couple of seconds, he backed away reluctantly. 'I love you too, Orli,' I whispered. 'So what are we going to do?' 'I'm holding a press conference,' he said. 'Today, in the hospital. I'm calling all the press here in the next couple of hours to announce about us. Most of them are still hanging around after the palaver over me storming into a hospital and demanding treatment for someone hardly any of them have ever seen before.' 'Here?' 'Not right here, you're in no state for a press conference, baby.' 'I don't care, I should be with you.' He smiled. 'Ssh. I'll come straight up afterwards. Promise.' He kissed me again. Dammit. I can't say no when kisses me. It's rubbish. 'Do you think it'll work?' 'If we hold the conference this afternoon, it'll work. The story'll break on the evening news and by the time that bitch gets her paper out tomorrow morning, the whole world'll know about us and the pictures'll be moot. Hopefully she'll get her stupid ass fired.' 'You really don't like her, do you?' I asked. 'she hurt you,' he said, like that was enough of an answer. His eyes flicked to just above my head. 'I better go if I'm gonna get this done in time. You be OK on your own here for a little while?' 'I should be,' I said. And if any more reporters come in, I'll kick their ass.Es.Es.' Orli grinned. 'I don't doubt you. I'll be back as soon as it's over, OK?' He bent down, and kissed me again. I was getting to like all this kissing. 'I love you.' 'I love you, too.' Then he turned and walked out of my room, about to change his life. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- Fast forward to a couple of hours later, and I was lying in bed waiting anxiously for Orli to return. I heard another gentle knock at the door. I knew it wasn't Orli, just knew it, but called 'Come in,' anyway. Whoever it was could either get their ass kicked or be greeted politely and calmly, depending on who they were. An elderly man, close to 70, stepped into the room. He was tall, and stood straight as a flagpole, his hands clasped behind his back and his chin raised as if he was expecting loyalty. His utterly grey hair had almost disappeared on top but was combed down at the sides, taking advantage of what little was left. There was something about him that just drained all of the fun out of a room. 'Barnabas,' I said, my voice little more than a whisper. 'Master Matthias. It's been far too long,' said my father's butler. TO BE CONTINUED. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- Yep, another minorly-serious ending. It all seems to be starting so jolly and sliding down the scale recently. Hmm. Anyway, the plots, the twists, the turns, I'm finding it hard to keep up myself to be honest but is everyone still enjoying the ride? This is the part where I say . . . feedback! madi_mcfarland@hotmail.com I love the stuff, as those of who have been sending it know, and I reply to everyone so look at it this way, it will be a lovely chat for you. I love you all and keep on lovin' it. Maddy x x x