Title: Snippet - Orlando in Hospital
Author: kbk
Disclaimer: Um. Real person. Don't know him, never met him, certainly don't own him.
Rating: PG
Summary: People were talking about the lack of fic with Orlando Bloom in hospital with his back broken, and I just wrote this in the comments. The interviewee mentioned is interior decorator Anne McKevitt and the story I attribute to her is correct, as far as I recall.

There's a television in the far corner of the room, which is pretty nice of them, but Orlando can only see it when the bed's tilted up, and right now it isn't, and the damn remote's stopped working again, so he's stuck listening to some daytime telly shite that's only mildly entertaining because he's on the heavy part of the painkiller dosage cycle. The drip's supposed to keep the level constant, of course, but they're gradually decreasing the amount, and he can feel it, ebbing and flowing like the tide (and there's an unoriginal metaphor for you, Orli, good thing you never wanted to be anything but a mouthpiece for other people's words) and right now tide is high, he's a happy kid, yes he is.

The woman they're interviewing is some interior designer type, off that show that his mum was talking about for half of her last visit - Changing Rooms, that's the one, and there's a man with lovely long hair and a long name that apparently does dreadful things to people's perfectly nice houses - and of course they ask her how she got into it, and then. She talks about staring at a white ceiling for six months on end, and Orlando opens his eyes. Yep. White ceiling tiles, fifty-six in all, seven by eight, eight by seven, sixty-four holes in each, except for the one in the corner with the light cord hanging from it.

White, all white, but he doesn't want colours. He wants out, dammit. He wants to move. He wants to run, to dance like he used to and never realised how much he took it for granted that his body would obey his every wish...

If he stares hard enough, focusses tightly enough on one point, it feels like he's falling.

But the brief moment of falling, between the, "oh shit!" of disbelief and the, "oh shit," of impact... That felt like flying.

He's gonna feel it again.