Just a short little something with an odd ending.

Touched

He likes being touched.

It’s the first thing I learnt about him and the last thing I’ll forget. That is, if I will ever manage to abandon him from my head and my heart, two places he’s been occupying for nearly a year now. He, the owner of probably the most captivating pair of eyes the world has ever known. He, who never fails to awake a tingling sensation in my stomach by the most insignificant of touches. He, the one whom I can only dream of having.

He, Orlando, who likes being touched.

There is but one person in this godforsaken world that has the privilege to touch all of him, every inch of that velvet skin, every ounce of flesh. And it’s not me. It has never been me and it never will be, and there are times I cannot stop a wave of deep hatred towards her. Oh, I know she loves him as much as he loves her, but I cannot bear the thought of them together, of her taking all the things that I wish I could have.

But he doesn’t know any of this.

For him, I’m good ol’ Dom, his merry, goofy friend that’s always there to cheer him up whenever it’s necessary. For him, I’m nothing but a buddy, a mate to go out clubbing with, to surf with, to laugh with. But it’s not enough. For me, that is, but I know I can’t ask for more. I’ve grown used to fulfilling the role of friend. I’ve learnt to suppress, to pretend, to deny and even though I make sure to never lose my poise around him, I cry for what I can’t have when I’m alone.

There are times that I feel that I’m going to burst, that my heart is going to split in two if I don’t tell him. But I don’t even have the courage to tell my closest friends, let alone Orlando himself. Oh, I know well enough that he would understand, that he would never even consider putting an abrupt halt to our friendship. And yet, deep down, I dread the rejection that I know I would face. I’m scared to lose the one thing that makes me hold on, to lose the tiny shred of hope that has stubbornly nestled in my heart.

I know it’s ridiculous to still hope after all this time, even when it’s hope against hope. At the early stage of our friendship I suspected that he, like myself, was not attracted to women alone. It were those continuous touches, those casual strokes of hair that made me wonder, but soon enough Orlando helped me out of that dream.

Oblivious to the flower of love that was blossoming in my heart just for him, he told us one night with a laugh that the only person he would ever consider turning gay for would be Viggo. I remember grinning along with the others, pretending that I didn’t have the feeling that someone had just jammed a dagger right into the core of my heart.

In the days that passed I couldn’t stand to be around Viggo, couldn’t stand to witness Orlando throwing his arms around him tightly, knowing that he favoured the older man over me. Later on, I found out that it was simply impossible to be angry at Viggo, at patient, modest, crazy, sweet Viggo. True, he was almost annoyingly perfect, possessed qualities that I lacked considerably, but still, he hadn’t done anything wrong. Besides, it wasn’t like Orlando loved him in that fluttery-stomach kind-of-way. He merely admired him, respected him, like we all did, really. And so the bitter jealousy faded, eventually.

My love, however, didn’t.

It never weakened, it never paled, not even when he started seeing her. It killed me from within to see them together, it still does, and I would lie if I’d say that I’m happy when he’s happy, because frankly, I’m not. How can I be happy when I get confronted with an unrequited love day after day? How can I sleep peacefully in the knowledge that she is the one who can feel his breath on her skin?

I’ve tried to wipe him from my thoughts, tried to lock him out of my heart, but the problem with Orlando is that you just have to love him. He is sweet, he is tender, he is incredibly loyal and sincere, and those intense brown eyes can melt away all resolutions to forget about him. I’m so weak.

He likes being touched and I like to touch him. It’s the only thing that keeps me sane.

Aww, poor Dommie....who has an Orli costume I can borrow? :tsk:

Hey in THAT portrayal I like Dom ;)

Nah seriously... it's so heartbreakingly familiar...
and wonderfully understandable, credible... great...

hug
Laila

I knoooooooooooooooooooooow! :cry: Poor Dominic, but what can I say.. *hands him a 'I love Orlando Bloom - and am still alive' t-shirt* Welcome to the club hun.

You know, I agree with you to 110%. It's not me either, and that drives me insane! Well.. Even more insane then I already am, will say. And that description of Orlando's skin.. Oh my.. :drool:

Uhm.. then tell him goddammit! I would! :yay:

Aww, poor guy! He's all over his heels about Orlando! But then again, who's not? it must be absolutely horrible to see him into the eyes, not to mention, see him with The K- *shrug*

Aww, no, poor Vig, LOL! :D Jealousy can truly drive you mad. :P

:cry: :cry: :cry:

Whee! Thanks for replying girl! *huggles*

And sorry for neglecting you earlier hahahah.

*cough* http://www.livejournal.com/community/blooming_heath *cough* What do you mean, I'm pimping my community?

Muwhahaah! :laugh:

Ahaha, I can't keep my curious nose away from here. :tsk: LOL.

Nah, it's OK, I fígured you were busy shagging Orlando senseless making the community, which by the way looks GREAT. :bow: