Title: Cold
Fandom: LOTR RPS
Pairing: Elijah Wood/Dominic Monaghan, Elijah Wood/Orlando Bloom
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine; don't sue.
Feedback: Along with criticism, both are greatly appreciated.
Note: Written for the water challenge



[2:36 pm]

Elijah hated the rain. It reminded him of Orlando.

--

Dominic hated the rain. It reminded Elijah of Orlando.

--

Orlando loved the rain. It reminded him of Elijah.

--

The sounds of traffic filled Elijah's ears, the reflection of headlights on puddles a bright burn across his vision. He leaned his head on the cool glass of the phone booth, watching the rivulets of water chase each other, join, and then separate again, a constant stream of disjointed motion.

He reached for the phone, reluctance and yearning making his stomach twist viciously.

--

Dominic was a good guy, he really was. It was something Elijah had known from the moment he'd met him; someone with that kind of smile couldn't be anything but. It was naïve of him, certainly, but no less true for his blind faith.

And Dominic proved him right time and time again: their drunken conversations in pubs, their weekends surfing, their time together on countless junkets and interviews. Dominic was a good guy, a funny guy, a great friend. And after shooting was over and he moved to L.A., he was just what Elijah needed. He didn't laugh enough, Dominic used to tell him. Spent too much time thinking. And so Dominic came around, and then he started hanging around, and then he just quit leaving, and that was more than fine with Elijah. He was laughing, after all. Not thinking.

Orlando never made him laugh; Orlando always made him think. He was quite easy to write off at first: he was new to all of it, he spent a lot of time getting his feet, and there didn't seem to be a lot more to him than an endless quest for a rush of adrenaline and a pretty smile.

But there was more, far more, and it unsettled Elijah the first time he saw it. They were in a pub, Dominic yelling a joke in his ear that he wasn't following, when he accidentally picked Orlando out of the crowd. Orlando turned his way and raised an eyebrow and his smile was no longer pretty and harmless. It was smoky, challenging, spoke of dirty promise and guilt on the horizon. Elijah shivered, and Orlando smirked, and then it was gone. Orlando tightened his arm around the waist of the boy beside him and took a long pull from his bottle, raising it in greeting at Elijah when he was done.

Elijah never looked at him the same after that. Every time Orlando looked at him, he imagined he could see a ghost of that smile on his lips. He started avoiding Orlando, as casually as he could, but Orlando only seemed to show up in his path more and more. Quite a feat for a cast that was scattered across the whole of a country, and it wasn't long before Elijah began to feel as though he were being followed, an arrogant predator always on his heels.

And then the day had come, The Day, as Elijah began to think of it afterward. Sean was worried about his bills, Elijah was tired of seeing nothing but rock every day, and Andy was too bruised and beaten to have patience for take after take after take. Gollum fell too fast on Sam, Sam shoved him away too hard, Frodo yelled at Sam, Sam yelled at Frodo, and then Elijah yelled at Sean. He'd had enough, enough for one goddamn day, one goddamn week, one goddamn month. He left the set, hating himself for still thinking of the production schedule and worrying about putting it behind.

He'd left his trailer twenty minutes earlier, a long walk to his apartment still stretching out in front of him in the early morning darkness, when he finally noticed that it was raining. His clothes were heavy and sticking to his body and he was cold. It was all right, though; it was cold, and cold felt good. Cold wasn't laughter, it wasn't fellowship, it was anger and frustration and he welcomed the rain, turning his face up to it with a sickened smile.

He couldn't stop watching the rain, couldn't let the hypnotic cadence drift away, so he left the door open, sitting on the couch with his cheek pressed to the window, watching the water sluice down the glass. His phone rang, and he answered it before it occurred to him that he didn't want to.

It was Orlando. His warm, smoky voice asked about Elijah, asked about the rain. He was in town, had just gotten in, tired but not yet ready to sleep. He was a crackling fire, embers bright in the dark night, and Elijah was tired of being cold. Yes, Elijah knew what he was asking. Yes, Elijah wanted to see him. Yes, he'd be right there.

He was searching for his car keys, had them just in hand when Dominic came in, rosy-cheeked from the pub, asking why the door was still open and why Elijah was wet and shivering. Elijah couldn't get away now, a flood of guilt pooling at his feet, making his way with splashing steps up to the bedroom where Dominic led, prattering on and on in concern, and Elijah wanted to hit him. But that would make his cheek warm, and Elijah decided he'd rather be cold.

--

It was a one-time offer, Orlando informed him softly, backed into a corner at the pub. You didn't take it, little hobbit, and it won't come 'round your way again. You should have come when you'd said you would. Orlando kissed his cheek, laughed, and found another boy in the crowd, paying Elijah no further heed.

Dominic watched him go, watched Elijah watching him go, and left the pub, stomach twisting.

--

The evening dawned dark and cloudy, the promise of rain heavy on the air. Dominic was a good guy, a funny guy, but Elijah had had enough laughter for one goddamn day, one goddamn week, one goddamn month. He was tired of laughing; he wanted to think, he wanted Dominic to understand. But he didn't, and he never would. Dominic was just a good guy, a funny guy.

So when the rain started, Elijah found his keys and didn't put them aside when Dominic asked. The water continued to chase itself down the glass, cool on his cheek, and he reached for the phone.

He asked about Orlando, asked about the rain. Orlando said he'd just gotten in, was looking forward to going out. Elijah asked, Orlando asked if he knew what he was asking. Elijah did, and asked again. Orlando laughed. A one-time offer, little hobbit. Go home where you belong.

The rain was cold when he left the booth. He didn't want to be cold, but he didn't want to be warm. He didn't know anymore just what it was he wanted to be.

[3:54 pm]

---

I went a few minutes over because the beginning gave me plenty of problems and for all of my fussing, I don't really like this; there was too much going on and they symbolism was far too heavy-handed. But I've had a dry spell lately, so any fic, at this point, is an accomplishment. :)