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The Difference Between Friends and Lovers
viggorli, r
05 january 2004

*

Instinctively, Orlando knows that touches among friends and touches among lovers, even former ones, are different. Hugs loose and affectionate, but lacking desire, passion, and it’s that bit of memory that guides the curve of your hand, the softness of your lips. Like your body’s learning their body all over again, and sometimes, Orlando remembers the way they look when they first whispered "I want you."

Orlando knows this, but he doesn’t think anyone else does so he hugs Elijah cheerfully and he hugs Liv sweetly but he hugs Viggo delicately, sensually.

Feels the hardness of Viggo’s jaw, the roughness of his slight stubble against the heat of his skin, and Orlando thinks that he hasn’t kissed Viggo’s lips without the beard before. He wants to try.

Viggo’s smile elusive, like the first time Orlando pressed against him in the make-up trailer. Pause. Then, fingers against his hips, his back, and Viggo’s lips so lightly against his cheek before the moment is over and they pull back to their respective lives.

Orlando thinks that that’s the line between friends and,

Something more.

He doesn’t follow Viggo home that night though he wants to. He’s alone in his hotel room when he slides between the cold bed sheets. It’s Viggo he thinks about when his hands are on his cock, Viggo’s smile, Viggo’s scent, the softness of Viggo’s hair, so much lighter than before. From the Moroccan sun, Orlando thinks though he isn’t sure and maybe he should be.

He whispers Viggo’s name as he comes and goes to sleep.

*

They’re asked to do an interview together though they never were before. It’s the first time Orlando sees Viggo again after the premier.

They sat on a faded blue couch in the corner of some high-fashion coffee place though he and Viggo both prefer tea.

The only tea they have on the menu is a ginger one which Orlando doesn’t particularly like though he orders it anyway. The waitress cocks an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything. The concoction she brings back is too watery and sweet and burns his tongue.

Viggo has a water and drinks it slowly. Orlando is very jealous.

The interviewer, Sarah or Laura or something, asks them about New Zealand and Peter Jackson and the depth of their fame before remarking that “you two are very close, aren’t you?”

Viggo replies, “Yes, we’re good friends. Everyone is, the cast and crew were really able to bond through this experience.” He doesn’t look at Orlando when he says this.

Orlando smiles and agrees and Sarah or Laura moves on to their tattoos and future projects.

At the photo shoot later, Orlando makes sure to hold Viggo tightly and to close his eyes when he kisses Viggo's cheek. He doesn’t see Viggo’s smile though he feels Viggo pulling him closer.

Viggo drives them to a sea-side restaurant afterwards because he knows the area better. They talk about the movies during the thirty-minute car trip, and they talk about Elijah and Dom and Billy and both Seans during dinner. On the way back, they talk about Ian and Nick and even John who they both haven’t kept in touch with. Anything to fill the silence, and there’s a time when they could have been easy and careless with each other but they’ve left that behind with friendship and sex and New Zealand.

They don’t talk about them, us, at all.

When they part, Viggo makes sure Orlando has his number and Orlando gives Viggo the address to his new flat.

Viggo doesn’t invite him home, and Orlando doesn’t ask though he remembers when he could have easily gone anyway, without a blink.

He thinks maybe that that’s the difference between friends and lovers.

When Orlando gets back to London, he calls Viggo’s house but no one answers.

*

Orlando gets the magazine in the mail two weeks later.

He doesn’t think about reading it until that night and when he’s flips it open, he sees that they’ve bolded Viggo’s quote. The word friend mocks him with its sincerity. He looks at the pictures and wants to say “but our bodies know each other” but he doesn’t know to whom.

Friends. He thinks he hates the word and throws the magazine against the wall. He’s sitting on the floor with his head against his knees when he realizes it’s not enough.

He tries to remember Viggo’s address offhand but fails, and that’s tragic in its own right.

He spends two hours searching through his flat for it before looking in his phonebook. Sees Viggo printed neatly in his own handwriting and doesn’t bother to call himself stupid.

He gets to the States at 10 p.m. two days later, and he gets to Viggo’s house at 11. He hasn’t thought to consider if Viggo would be home or asleep or alone until he sees the light in the living room window.

When the door opens after his third knock, Viggo doesn’t seem angry to see him, just surprised, and maybe it's okay he hasn't called beforehand after all.

They talk about Orlando’s plane ride and Viggo’s photography and finally the weather conditions in England (“It was raining when I left.” “It’s always raining in London.” “That’s just what you Yanks think.” “And we’d be right, too.”).

Viggo doesn’t ask him why he came.

It’s 1 a.m. when Orlando showers in the small bathroom at the end of the hall and Viggo guides him to the spare bedroom without mentioning hotels and other Los Angeles friends.

In the morning, Orlando has toast while Viggo drinks tea. Orlando watches Viggo’s hand lazily trace the cup's edge as he laughs.

“I don’t want to be friends anymore,” Orlando says suddenly.

Viggo looks up but doesn’t reply so Orlando walks over, presses himself against Viggo’s chest. Fingers at the base of Viggo’s neck, slightly brushing his hair. Soft lips against Viggo’s face, Viggo’s neck, and finally Viggo’s lips. Orlando leans closer and surrounds himself with Viggo’s heat and thinks he’s home.

Viggo’s hugging him back now and trailing warm hands against his cheeks and his ears and delicate skin of his eyelids.

Whispers “alright” against his ear, and it’s the difference between friends and lovers.

*