His life, had, at one point been completely, boringly normal. Elijah Wood had possessed that ability, the ability for normalcy. He’d gone to school, he’d played baseball, made fun of his younger sister and he’d been a good son.
It wasn't something he liked to think about. It seemed like so long ago, and from what his therapist told him it wouldn't reoccur anytime soon.
At the same time he didn’t know what he would do with himself if it didn’t.
Everything had started small, the rituals that is. They always did or at least that's what he'd found when researching his disorder.
And that was a word that amused him. Disorder, for someone who needed; who craved an orderly life in a world amidst chaos.
Elijah had been fourteen. His parents had divorced four years prior when his mother remarried on April 4th.
It might be silly to some, but the number four had seemed to haunt him ever since.
The first rituals, when they began, had involved cleanliness. After his mother had married Roy they'd moved into his house and his room had never seemed clean enough. It wasn’t enough of a haven from the messy outside world. The house smelled like rotten wood. He'd always been worried it would come down around them if they weren't careful. It didn’t have the almost sterile look of a new home, or an updated home.
He’d loathed every second of it. He’d never felt clean in that house, with dirt brown carpet in his room that made his skin crawl. He'd run to the sink to wash, and scrub his hands until they turned red from heat, and white from cold.
The skin had cracked, and bled, and after a time he’d given up trying to hide it. It had seemed pointless, as he felt like his world, the world he felt safe in was slipping away.
Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.
And now? He was 23 years old, living on his own for the first time. His life fairly resembled shit, as his best friend liked to remind him.
His mother worried and she hadn't wanted him to move on with life. She hadn't wanted him to move out even though he knew his rituals and compulsions drove her crazy. He embarrassed her, being mentally ill and marring her perfect
It all came to this moment as he stood in the middle of his new apartment looking around as he planned the layout. He wanted to be comfortable.
“Excuse me?” There was a soft voice from the open door and he whirled around, surprised to find a man standing there. It was rare though, for someone to catch him off guard and his heart beat just that little bit faster.
"I heard there was a room for rent, I hope I'm in the right place," the man continued. He lifted the newspaper and squinted at the small print.
Breathless Elijah managed to jerk his head in a nod. This was not the type of person he’d imagined sharing a place with.
It was quite possible he was not a man at all, he was a fucking angel. His skin was honey kissed. His hair was a bed of soft mussed curls and he possessed deep brown eyes.
“Are you Elijah Wood?” And his angel had an accent.
“Yes, yes I am,” Elijah managed to choke out. Dragging his fingers through his hair he then shoved his hand in his pocket. “I uh, I can show you the room I’m renting out,” he waved a hand. He walked up the small staircase to the loft bedroom, "I know it’s uh, not exactly private but…”
The other man looked around, eyes huge as he did so before he turned to Elijah expression one of curiosity. “You don’t sleep here?” His voice was filled with amazement.
Elijah's heard it before, but he hated wide open spaces. He ignored the question, moving on. “If you want to live here I’ll need a copy of your criminal record, for precautions sake.”
Those brown eyes widened again, his angel seemed faintly amused. “Very well then, if it takes a couple days will I lose the space?” He seemed more worried about that than anything else. Elijah felt his affection grow slightly.
Elijah shook his head quickly, managing a small smile. “No, I’ll hold it. It’s the last day the ad was supposed to run anyway. But let me know if you’re certain about the space.”
“Of course, wouldn’t want to leave you hanging,” The angel beamed at him and offered his hand. “That was rude of me, my name is Orlando, Orlando Bloom.”
Staring down at the offered hand Elijah took a step back, not stopping until he bumped into the dresser, fingers curled around one of the drawer knobs.
“I don’t touch people,” he said softly, hoping that he wouldn’t have to offer further explanation. He didn’t think he could handle it, not today at least.
Orlando’s brow furrowed in confusion and he frowned momentarily before a smile flitted across his face, obviously having decided that he’d done nothing wrong.
“That must make dating awfully hard mate,” he commented lightly, glancing into Elijah’s eyes.
“Uhm yeah, I don’t do that either,” Elijah said softly, looking down shyly. He sucked in a deep breath. “So I will hear from you soon?”
Orlando frowned again, his expression one of concern when Elijah glanced back up at him.
“Yes, you will,” he responded, shooting his new roommate a smile before he headed for the door, stepping over boxes as he left.
Elijah made his way over to the bed, sinking down onto the frame the springs bounced him slightly. He bowed his head and covered his face, rubbing his hands over it he sighed.
How was he going to try and have a normal life when he found himself falling for the first angelic face that walked in the door? Especially when that man certainly had no idea of what he would have to live with.
Why couldn’t his life just be…be…Not fucked up for once.
Letting out a bitter bark of laughter Elijah resisted the urge to weep as he pressed his palms into his eyes. It’s not like Orlando would be one to stick around anyway, few people did when they realized how fucking crazy he was. Why would they?