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One of the things Elijah likes about Manhattan is that he’s just another anonymous hipster there. Two days before Return of the King comes out, he can still walk around the East Village in a thrift-shop blazer and tie, with his blue scarf wrapped around his neck and no sunglasses on. No one stops him. No one asks for his autograph. Not even the people on the subway reading reviews of Trilogy in the New York Times give him any more than a passing glace, and when they do they are usually checking him out, not checking to see if he may, by some strange chance, be famous. New York is full of famous people and attractive young people who want to be famous — Elijah falls somewhere in-between and just under the radar. It’s funny, because he’s been in American pictures a lot longer than Dom has, but the site where Dom is filming is as drawing as flypaper for autograph hunting teenyboppers with the One Ring hanging about their necks on old chains. Elijah is not sure if he should be grateful or slightly insulted, or if he is just better at being conspicuous. He suspects the latter; because Dom has taken to wearing bright colors and strange hats and being about as incognito as a nun in a whorehouse. Dom, though, is another one of the reasons that Elijah likes Manhattan. He came out to the East Coast because Dom was working on a film, and decided to stay for a bit. Buy Christmas gifts, eat some good food, hang out, the usual. Dom is staying in a rented apartment in Williamsburg. He and Hannah live in the village, but Elijah spends most of his time in Brooklyn. There’s this neat store around the corner from Dom's place called Beacon's Closet, where they sell a shit load of old clothing and it’s all color coded. Since he came to the city about a week ago he’s brought at least two bags of stuff back to Dom’s cheap, little place. They have fallen into this silly routine, but they got really good at routines back in New Zealand because they lived one for so long. When Dom is finished shooting, he and Elijah dress up (ie: throw on layers and scarves; a tie for Lij, a hat for Dom) and head out The Greenpoint Tavern, which is dirty, smells bad, and is full of people trying to be hip and pretty much succeeding. There’s a crazy old guy named Roman who hangs around the place and has a huge cancerous knot on his neck. He likes to play chess. Dom says the bar reminds him of home, but Elijah hasn’t gotten around to asking him if he means Manchester, Berlin, or a mixture of both. Once they were taking the 7th avenue express, and Dom suddenly started talking to this beautiful couple about something they were reading. It took Elijah a moment to realize that (a) Dom wasn’t speaking English, but German and (b) that the couple were tourists and that Dom was helping them with a subway map. Elijah doesn’t understand German and he doesn’t understand the subway (except for the lovely, clean L that runs to 14th street and has shiny benches and rails along with a glowing station chart above the doors), so he kept quiet, but in an awed sort of Dom-is-speaking-a-foreign-language-oh-gee sort of way. It wasn’t that he had never heard Dominic speak German before; it was just a surreal moment of feeling uneducated and young. When they were in New Zealand (he always comes back to New Zealand; his mind drawing him unerringly back there like a fish caught on the line and helplessly being pulled skyward) they were all in the same situation, the Hobbits four and Orlando. None of them knew exactly what they were doing in that raw and beautiful land, and they were all pussy-footing in the dark. Except, and it sounds stupid even to him, now that they’re all finished, Elijah has been left with a movie career and no college education. Okay, so perhaps it is rather selfish. He has gained a greater working education than NYU or Julliard or USC or any other school could have given him, but sometimes Elijah feels like unrefined intelligence and acting skills aren’t the best place to leave off. Here Dom is bilingual, and Sean has a BA in English and History, and while Billy has a diploma in the dramatic arts, at least he has one. Not to say that Elijah isn’t happy where he is. That would be truly and disgustingly selfish, but sometimes he is plagued by what-ifs. After that tip on the L, Elijah remembers asking Dom whether he thought in English or German and Dom sort of shrugging and saying with eyebrows quirked that the two are similar to him that his thoughts come out in a hurried mix of both languages. “Oh, so that’s why you never make much sense,” Elijah had jokingly responded, and Dom and had lightly cuffed him on the shoulder. “Don’t be cheeky,” Dom said, and pulled his hat down low on his forehead like an old-fashioned gangster sans pinstripes and machine gun. They had been heading toward the Union Square holiday market which Dom promised had more treasures for less money than Elijah could possibly imagine. They got donuts and cider, and spent the rest of the afternoon meandering through the candy-striped booths as inconspicuous and as lizards on tree branches. Later they had dinner at a tiny Italian place by NYU called Tanti Baci and then Elijah heading back to his and Hannah’s apartment. He spent a lot of that night reading the books scattered on the floor in his barely unpacked bedroom.
It is after Christmas now, and Return of the King has been in theatres for nearly two weeks. It feels strange to know that a part of his life is really over now, and that he may not see PJ or Ian again until the Oscars, God willing or something like that. He and Hannah went home for Christmas and they brought Dominic with them, because he didn’t feel like leaving Lij, or taking the long flight to Manchester, despite his love for his family. They going to go to London for New Year and spend it with Billy, Orli, and Orli’s girl, then Dom with spend a week in his Mother's livingroom eating mini gerkin and turkey sandwiches. Back home in California, Elijah and Dom stay in Lij’s garage apartment and scatter the floor with their clothing and all of Elijah’s stuff is exactly as he left it, but he doesn’t know why he expected it to be any different since he only moved out a month ago and was gone for over a year previously. He thinks his mother is sort of scared of his little home any way. Dom has been here before and actually left a couple of pairs of boxers on his last visit that Elijah stuck in with his own. Dom finds them after a shower and while standing in a towel, gleefully holds up a pair for Elijah to see. “Have you been nicking my knickers?” He asks. “You left them here, you idiot.” Elijah shakes his head. “Sure I did,” Dom says through a smirk. “Hey, I’m being fucking honest. Really.” Dom just pulls the boxers on under his towel and then drops it to the floor to add to their small disaster. “Can’t help it if my underwear are just so irresistible,” he says after a long moment. “Oh shut up.” Elijah rolls his eyes. “Well they are,” Dom says and feigns displeasure. Elijah, who is sitting on the bed, book in lap, leans over the edge of the mattress and tugs on Dom’s boxers. “They look better on me, anyway,” he says. “You’ve worn my knickers?” Dom asks and his eyebrows fly all the way up into his shaggy, bleached hair. “Not your business,” Elijah answers and picks up his book again.
They fly back to New York without Hannah on the 28th and Elijah knows that once he hits England, the jet lag is going to kill him. They both have to pack different clothing though, so they spent two nights in Elijah’s apartment. Both sleep in Elijah’s bed because Dom has this weird thing about Hannah’s and not sleeping in it. “She’s your little sister, mate. That’s weird,” is how he pretty much explains it, and Elijah doesn’t mind all that much because he and Dom were sharing a bed back in New Zealand sometimes (they all shared beds at one point or another. It was like going off to war, but with caterers and no really terrible physical pain), and when they were staying at Dom’s too. Elijah doesn’t turn the heat on because they are leaving in a day and the weather is warm in New York this year. Still, it gets cold at night and Dom snuggles in close to him in their shared double bed. He presses his cold feet stealthily beneath Elijah’s legs and then sighs content and warm into his pillow. Elijah likes how cold Dom’s feet are, because he can never keep his body temperature under control and when Dom is cold he tends to be hot, which is rather convenient, really. In the morning they wake up curled together. Elijah’s hands are somehow just inside the waistband of Dom’s boxers. One of the pairs he took back from California. Before Elijah can move them even the slightest bit, Dom opens his eyes and says as smugly as possible for someone with jetlag, “I told you my knickers were irresistible.” Elijah laughs, because he saw that one coming a mile away. “I just want them back, is all,” he says. “I’ve grown quite attached to them. I’ve even named them.” “You are so cracked,” Dom says and catches Elijah’s hands against his stomach, holds them there. “You’re hands are cold,” he says. “It’s a good thing your stomach is warm.” “Yeah.” Dom moves closer, and his hair is kittenish and sticking up in all sorts of cowlicks and sleep tangles. He tangles their legs together and Elijah sighs because this is the nicest possible way to wake up. Even with a friend. They are—-he is—-really fucking lucky, because most people cannot exactly do this with their closest mates. Dom nuzzles his neck and breathes warm against his skin. Elijah’s eyes fall shut. Dom kisses him just below an ear. In eight hours they have a plane to catch, and a Billy who will be waiting at the airport to see them both, hug them within an inch of their lives and then take them to get incredibly drunk; but neither are thinking about that right now; there are better things to do beneath the sheets in Elijah's new, anonymous city where he may not have a college degree, but a certain amount of warmth instead. |