It's ridiculous, he thinks again, knowing that he shouldn't even be thinking about thinking about what he's thinking about.
Completely fucking ridiculous.
But he can't take his eyes off of the boy. Tortured innocence has always been Elijah's weakness. It's why he plays it so well himself: he likes that look on others. Elijah blinks to keep himself in check, to keep his imagination from taking off without him.
But it's too late.
When Elijah had strolled into The Brass Cat fashionably late -- not on purpose, he'd decided frivolously to take the Tube on his own instead of the car sent by Orlando's agent -- his excitement at the prospect of finally seeing Orli again had been instantly replaced by a different sensation. It was as if as dozens of butterflies had, on a whim, invaded his stomach and set up housekeeping.
Ridiculously incompetent butterflies. Stupid butterflies caused
by an overactive imagination -- and a grinning, dark-haired boy.
From just inside the door, Elijah gives the pub a once-over since Orli should already be there. As is he scanning the tables against the back wall, he suddenly stops, and he stares. Daniel Radcliffe, his dark hair a mess and his eyes twinkling blue, is sitting there having lunch with his mom. No, Elijah thinks, not mom, mum. Here in London it's easy to slip back into Frodo's lilt, easy to pretend like he too grew up among sheep and the green, rolling hills of the Cotswolds -- which isn't completely a lie: Iowa had been its own little paradise. There aren't ancient stone churches in the little towns near where Elijah grew up, but the grass smells the same in Elijah's memory. He likes England for all of those reasons. He could have grown up saying "Mum."
Elijah doesn't know if Daniel can see him looking, or, if he can, if he recognizes Elijah, but Elijah does know he's been standing in the doorway for far too long a time. Suddenly entirely uninterested in lunching with Orlando Bloom, Elijah orders a pint and takes it to a booth in a corner from which he can watch Daniel in peace. Elijah sits there, half hidden in the mid-afternoon shadows of the pub, not exactly fighting the still-fluttering butterflies but not yet welcoming them either.
He can't be more than thirteen, Elijah thinks, swallowing a mouthful of the porter he's drinking, looking again at the boy, looking harder, and remembering himself at that age. He'd been acting on camera for years by then, but he doesn't think he had Daniel's innocent-yet-haunted look at thirteen; he'd grown into that one, perfected it for the camera. Elijah supposes that Daniel, too, can pull off the right amount of "Why Me?" charm for directors, but it surprises him how much of Elijah's own world-weariness shows through on Daniel's young face there in the pub. He looks almost as old as Elijah feels. Wishful thinking, Elijah knows, but it doesn't stop the longing. Why can't Daniel be just a bit older?
Elijah doesn't like to think of himself as a pedophile.
It's that little pink mouth -- little because it's on a thirteen-year-old
boy, for God's sake -- that spins Elijah out of control. For
one splendid moment, Elijah is alone with a vision of Daniel on his knees,
his little pink mouth closed wetly over Elijah's aching cock. Then
Elijah blinks and Daniel is back across the room with his mother where
he belongs, not naked in Elijah's lap. Almost unconsciously Elijah
licks his lips. Oh fuck, he thinks, I'm in deep trouble.
Once Elijah knows he's gone, once he gives in to his demanding imagination,
the thoughts tumble about each other easily. Not just the bits of
fantasy -- the quick licks of a soft pink tongue and fluttering eyelashes
hiding bluer-than-blue eyes -- but what Elijah believes are real wishes
for the boy. He remembers being a thirteen-year-old actor.
He remembers looking up to older actors on each set, the ones who would
pet his head and kiss his cheek and look at him with longing. He
remembers the squeals of girls who recognized him at the corner market,
the shy blushes of young autograph-seekers, the prying questions of the
talk-show hosts. He knows that Daniel is spotlit now by the bright
eyes of so many girls -- some girls young enough not to know what they're
talking about, but also other girls, girls who are old enough to know better
-- just as Elijah was, is, has been, will be. There is so much Elijah
learned the long, hard way. He wants to make it quicker and easier
for Daniel. He wants other things, too -- he can't lie to himself
-- but he knows those things are best left unsaid, at least for now.
For now he just wants to help. At least, that's what he tells himself.
It's the mischievous glint in Daniel's eyes, as if he is barely concealing
the mischief in them for the sake of lunch with his mother, that sends
Elijah into another vision that makes him dizzy. In it he's naked
and standing in his bedroom. Daniel is also unclothed, and he's sprawled
across the dark blue comforter on Elijah's bed, and he's looking up at
Elijah with the most compromising pair of bedroom eyes. In bed the
boy teases, begs, pleads, laughs, squeals, and comes in quick hot spurts
as Elijah teases right back. He coos and mumbles endearments as Elijah
licks him clean, kisses his way back up the boy's chest, snuggles in close,
licks behind the boy's ear. In bed Daniel is a firecracker: glowing,
adventurous, unpredictable. Never afraid, because Elijah is teaching
him. He is learning the easy way. He feels safe. God,
Elijah thinks, can I teach him? Would he let me?
Elijah remembers the fan mail after Huck Finn:
My name is Jessica and I'm 11 and I totally love you. Will you marry me? Circle YES -or- NO. Here is my address so you can write back. p.s. I really really really love you. p.p.s. Don't forget to write back!
Lots were like that one. So many girls wanted from him what they didn't really know how to ask for. Others, however, knew how to ask -- and did:
My God, Elijah Wood, you're an angel fallen from heaven. Each time I look at you I get lost in your eyes. When I get you alone, I am going to make a man out of you ....
The letter had gone on in lurid detail, shocking and surprising Elijah who was still, at the time, innocent. When Elijah showed that letter to his mother, she stopped letting him open his own mail.
Elijah doubts that Daniel is as innocent now as Elijah had been at thirteen. He wonders if the boy has received the kind of fan mail that he did, if Daniel has laid awake at night the way Elijah used to, imagining these girls -- and sometimes boys -- and their desperate needy hands and their honey-dripping tongues. When he was Daniel's age, Elijah fantasized about having sex with each of them, keeping a list and ranking each. After each imaginary blowjob he would tell the giver where she or he ranked. Now that he's older, the draw of these quickies with groupies has melted into something darker, something he wants both to warn Daniel about -- and to teach him.
Sitting in The Brass Cat, drinking and watching Daniel, Elijah realizes what it is that he wants.
And it's completely fucking ridiculous.
But it's way beyond too late.
It's the flush that creeps onto Daniel's cheeks as his mother explains something to him that pushes Elijah over the edge. He knows he shouldn't be thinking this way, but Daniel's sweet face -- with its ancient innocence -- is begging Elijah to take him home, to teach him. Again in his imagination Elijah sees them in his bedroom. A naked Daniel is looking coyly over his shoulder as Elijah eyes the boy's ass. In the pub Elijah squeezes his eyes shut against the sensuality of the image, knowing it's wrong wrong wrong, but the darkness only fuels his imagination and there he is, kneeling and raining kisses across the small of Daniel's back, tasting him everywhere, touching him where he himself at age thirteen was longing to be touched. When Daniel comes this time, he's begging Elijah for more and Elijah is trying to figure out how much more he can give.
He wants to give it all.
When Elijah looks up again, he sees Daniel watching him. Daniel's mother has left the table for a moment, and Elijah hides a smile as the boy sends an innocent grin his way, once again setting the butterflies in Elijah's stomach fluttering about at an ungodly clip.
Before he can really think about it, Elijah is on his feet and on his way over to Daniel's table. There is just enough pout to Daniel's lips and just enough sparkle in Daniel's eyes to keep Elijah moving forward. He feels like he's being pulled in by a magnet. A moment before he speaks, he wonders if he will live to regret this.
"Hello," Elijah says in his homegrown Iowa-Hollywood accent.
Daniel stands up and gives Elijah another shy smile, "I ... I saw you watching me. Your eyes ... Er, well..." He looks down, then his blue eyes meet Elijah's again. "You look as if there's something you want to tell me. Is there?" Standing this close, Elijah can sense distinctly the curiosity in Daniel's eyes.
Elijah blinks and hopes the handbasket is big enough for both of them.