Emy (thefrenchgirl2) wrote,

Mismatched - Prologue

Title :  Mismatched – Prologue

Author :
Emy (thefrenchgirl2 )

Pairing : Orlijah (for the moment), but with up-coming Monaboyd

Rating :
PG (this part)

Disclaimer :
You know, I love making hot Hollywood-boys kiss each other, and then put them into angsty situations, but seriously… who’d believe this has happened in real life? (We never know, my name could be Lucy, and I could still have the taped proof that… ‘Say no more’ – ‘I can say no more’)


Summary :
It’s a creepy thing to think there are people in the world that know a lot more about you than you know about them. It’s an even creepier thing to think you are in possession of a big part of someone else’s life without them even knowing it.’

Beta :
The lovely [info]moit . *hugs crazy*








:: ::



There are six billion people in the world, six billion souls.

 It is hard to tell how many people you pass by in one day; how many people from whom you catch a glance. To you, there are approximately five billion, nine hundred, ninety-nine million, nine hundred, ninety-nine thousand, seven hundred and seventy-eight complete strangers in the world – the man sitting next to you for example, or the air-hostess who is currently shooting her most beautiful fake smile at you. The two hundred and twenty-two others are conscious of your existence and you are conscious of theirs – your family, your friends, your wife, your lovers, to who you could add a few others who have just entered this category such as your new house keeper, or your new make-up artist, stylist – whatever. Maybe you could even start including the air-hostess who is currently giving you the sexiest wink as she hands you the free glass of champagne offered to all first-class travellers. You are a (recently) married man for Christ’s sake! So, um, that will make two hundred and twenty-three, right?


Two hundred and twenty-three people of whom you are aware; two hundred and twenty-three people who are aware of you. Yet, how many people on Earth are in knowledge of your existence? Think of it: you could be a big part of someone else’s life, without even knowing it.


That’s the problem with Hollywood, man, you think. And that is also the reason why the whole reunion has been planned outside Hollywood – outside the fucking US.


You sigh. You down your champagne. You flick the switch to the fluorescent spot-light above your head. You grunt as you try to make your bony-little-self comfortable in that too fucking large first-classy seat. The stranger on your left is snoring in his peaceful sleep.


Your fingers are twitching. You fiddle with your wedding ring. After a brief hesitation, you decide it is best to take it off. You slip it in the right pocket of your too tight jeans.


Most of the plane is asleep, but the same hostess still pads slowly back and forth from one end to another, the thin carpet slightly muffling the persistent rattling of her heels. You shoot your most beautiful fake smile at her. She nods discretely.


This – is going to be – a long – long, very long – flight.



:: ::





Tags: fic, mismatched

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