The waves rolled ashore at the lake in Wellington, New Zealand. Karl stood on the banks, letting the cool water wash over his feet.
“Dude,” said Orlando, “You really shouldn’t do that, you could get pneumonia.”
Viggo smiled and walked over to his honey, putting his arms around him from behind.
The brit growled as the older man messed with his hair. “Stop it man!” he said, turning and grabbing Viggo’s wrists. “Do not mess with a man that has an accent, you will get hurt.”
The American couldn’t help but laugh. “You are so weak, Orly!” he said. “You couldn’t hurt a fly.”
Orlando sneered back at the older man. “You suck.”
Marton overheard and just had to make a joke. “Yeah, you.”
The young man shot his head around and glared at him. “Ahem, what?”
Jarl put his hand up over his mouth. “Oh dang!” he said. “Owned!”
Craig pranced over to Orlando and put his arm around him. “You are pretty gay dude!”
“You know what Parker?” said Orly. “You can just suck it!”
The kiwi smirked. “Heehee!” he joked.
The brit thought for a comeback. “Oh! And who’s always taking Karl home for dessert hmmm?” he stated.
“He’s got a point.” said Karl, downing a Bacardi.
The short kiwi put his head down. He’d been defeated. “You know what? I’ll just head back.” He said, starting up the sand dunes.
“Wont you have a wine cooler with us?” Viggo asked.
Craig turned sharply on his heels. “After I have one of those!” he said, running back to the picnic area.
Jarl spit out his coke after seeing the kiwi trip and roll down the hill. “Oh shit! You okay man?” he said, pretending to care.
“Ah shut up kid!” he said, rubbing the other man’s hair. Jarl bit his lip and scowled.
Suddenly, everyone’s ears were blown out when Viggo turned on the radio.
“Dude! Turn it down a little!” shouted Marton.
“No way man! Don’t listen to them!” protested Jarl. “This is classic 80’s thrash metal!”
Orlando was about to ask Viggo to change the station, but then began to like the music blaring from the speakers. “Who is this?” he asked.
“Metallica, an old 80’s band from San Francisco. They started when I was in my early twenties.” Viggo replied.
“Wow, that’s old.” Craig said.
Viggo glared at the kiwi. “Shut up man.” He said.
The brit ignored the argument and listened to the lyrics. “Darkness, imprisoning me! All that I see, absolute horror! I cannot live, I cannot die. Trapped in myself, blind in my holding celllllllllllllllll!!!!!!!!!!!!”
It was in this moment that Jarl threw up his horns. “Metallica rocks!” he said.
Orlando agreed with him. “This is excellent American rock!” he said, nodding his head to the beat. He was upset when it ended, only to find that another Metallica song came on.
Again, he paid close attention to the words. “Life it seems to fade away. Drifting further every day. Getting lost within my self. Nothing matters, no one else.”
The young man listened and began to drift to a new dimension. He thought of the scene they filmed when Gandalf was taken by the Belrog into darkness, and how Boromir was killed. He also thought of how he had been acting the past few days. “Nothing matters no one else.” The words still rang in his head. They seemed to be telling him something.
Jarl soon noticed him spacing out and snapped a finger in front of his face to get him out of it. “Whoa man.” He said. “You lose interest very quickly.”
Orlando breathed hard and put a hand on his head. “Oh god, what a headache!” he said, then came some more lyrics. “I have lost the will to live. Simply nothing more to give. There is nothing more for me. Need the end to set me free!”
“Viggo I can’t take it!” he shouted, tossing his head around. “Turn it off, turn it off!”
The older man jumped to his feet and pressed the power button, and then he made his way to a shaken up Orlando, who was sitting in the sand crying.
“Orly? Are you okay?” he asked, squeezing his shoulders.
The brit looked up with a tear – stained face. “I don’t want to be here!” he said. “Let’s just go home!”
Viggo embraced him, beginning to cry with him. “You guys get everything in the car, we’re going back.”
Karl exchanged glances with Jarl and Marton. “What? Not now!” he protested.
“Yes now!” The older man demanded. “Orlando is in emotional shock!”
Craig ran up to the three disappointed men. “You guys must come along! This is our friend on the line here!”
Again, the three exchanged glances. “Okay, you’re right. We can’t let him down.” Jarl said.
Marton grabbed the ice chest, Karl the umbrella, and Jarl the food basket and blankets. Then loaded them in the back of Viggo’s Range Rover.
Half an hour later, the men arrived at Orlando’s apartment. By this time, the young brit was asleep, so Jarl helped carry him in to his room.
“There you go man.” He said, pulling the covers up to Orly’s chest. “You’re all nice and cozy like your mom used to tuck you in.”
Marton smiled at this and patted Jarl on the back, gesturing for him to follow him out.
“C’mon Benzon,” he said. “Let him get his beauty sleep.”
The next morning, Orlando awoke to find a nice breakfast waiting for him. It was wrapped in foil with a note taped on top. The cover said ‘To Orly’ on it. On the inside, it read: Dear dude, we hope you get well. Here are some munchies. Eat in good health! From: Marton, Craig, Karl, and Jarl.”
The young man smiled and tossed the note on the table. Then, he ran his eyes over his living room and found a bouquet of roses on the coffee table. “Viggo.” He said, walking over to see what came with it. He grabbed the flowers, inhaling the beautiful scent of nature the red blossoms brought. Then, he opened the note attached to the stems. “My dearest Orlando, I hope these flowers bring you comfort in the fact that they are a symbol of my love for you. You are everything, and these lovely deadly thorn bearing assault vegetations remind me of you. You’re fragrant aroma, your smile, your pretty face. I love you.”
After reading the letter, Orlando fell on the couch and stared at the ceiling. He felt so lucky to have good friends like those guys, and didn’t know what he’d do without them. Once more, he drifted into a dream, but this time, it took him to heaven…………………
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