This just called for a new story! Can you believe it - Jared won the Oscar!! Amazing.
Title: And the winner is ...
Beta: Sorry, unbeta'ed
Disclaimer: The usual - not mine, no harm intended, all fiction (probably xD), blabla
And the winner is ...
March 5th, 2014
Ellen was fabulous tonight. She always is. The Oscars have barely ever been more entertaining and everybody seemed to have had a great time.
I bet you have. After all – you won. I myself got nominated for awards more than twice as many times as I won them and I never made it as far as the Oscars. Funny enough, I always considered us to be ‘the actor and the rock star’. Although I got to know you on the set of Phone Booth and in the biblical sense and much more on the set of Alexander, in the back of my mind it was crystal clear – you’d always be a musician first, then an actor, for your band and your music was always closer to your heart than making films. It doesn’t take long to count the movies you’ve actually been in and even less to count those that are worth watching … no, let’s not be unfair, to count those more people than fit into a phone booth have watched.
Am I being cynical now? Maybe. God, it hurts.
You won the Oscar tonight. You, the rock star, not me, the actor.
I probably missed a great show, but I couldn’t bring myself to go there. Although you were there – perhaps because you were there. And not only there, but nominated for the highest award in the movie business.
I watched the whole thing on TV though. I saw you getting interviewed, saw you sitting in first row with your mom, saw you laugh and have a good time and watched your face light up when they announced your name.
And the winner is …
God, it hurts. Why does it hurt that much?
Did I really want that silly golden statue so much that I begrudge you your success and happiness? Have I become such a pathetic loser?
I remember how proud and happy I was when I received the Golden Globe – a great achievement in my eyes and the acknowledgement of my everyday work and efforts.
You even said out loud years back that Hollywood was in the past for you, that you didn’t plan to do any more movies and rather focus on your music. That much you care for acting, for the movie business, for what is my profession! And then you go ahead, act in another movie after all – almost incidentally, as though you had nothing better to do or needed a break from singing. And it not only leveled you with my achievements, when you won the Golden Globe as well, no, it even took you ahead.
To the Oscars.
God, it hurts … like Satan?
Ellen just said ‘Good Night’ and concluded a fabulous show and I had to turn that bloody TV off immediately. Can’t stand it any longer.
Who am I trying to fool? The pain didn’t start tonight – it started many weeks ago, even before the Golden Globes.
Another night of fighting. Another argument about stupid things – I can’t even remember. Another battle of egos and ambitions and pride – so useless, so meaningless, so dumb. After all these years, on and off, through good and bad and everything in between the fragile structure of love and friendship we had built for ourselves had started to crumble the night you won the Golden Globe.
At any other time I would have been happy for you. At any other time I would have cheered the loudest when you received that award. At any other time … but not that night. I had no idea the cameras were on me at all, but I’m afraid my conflict and anger and hurt showed only too clearly on my face that night.
I didn’t care for a repetition of that tonight. And why would I want to be there anyhow? We went separate ways before that Globe could even gather dust.
Yes, it hurts. There is a burning pain in my chest, a pressure on my stomach, a stinging sensation in my eyes … Are you gonna be a sissy again, Farrell? Well, if I am, who’s gonna know? I’m alone in this insanely big house – all alone.
The pictures I just witnessed these past hours are still crystal clear before my mind’s eye. I see you step up on some pedestal to be intereviewed before the show and my heart almost stopped.
Did you do that on purpose? Did you know I was watching? You know how much I love that Hephaistion-look, don’t you? You could have let that beard grow again or tie your hair into a ponytail, but no – you had to bring him back. Ten years and you haven’t aged a day, you bastard, taking me right back into the past – our past, our wonderful, beautiful, happy past. Was that the moment the first tear fell? Who cares? Who counts?
A white suit. I cannot believe you’re that cruel. Did you really do that on purpose or was it a mindless act? Maybe you don’t even know. Did I ever tell you?
One day, perhaps, in a future that is not ours any longer, in another world, another life, under different circumstances I might have popped the question. I might have found my balls and follow Ellen’s example – brave, wonderful, couragous Ellen. I might have come out, declare to the world that I love you, a man, and pop the question to you, get married to the only person on this bloody planet I ever wanted to grow old with. And if you’d said ‘Yes’ and not laugh in my face, I would have wanted you to wear a white suit and sport that Hephaistion-look once more on our wedding day – just the way you looked tonight.
It’s not our wedding day – it’s your day, your greatest triumph and I wasn’t even there. It’s our greatest failure.
I know why it hurts. And it does more so with each passing second.
Ellen was funny tonight. She always is. Only she would think of taking selfies during an Oscar gala and order pizza. Naturally you had to be part of both – you were in that selfie that had Facebook break down due to the millions of retweets, and I bet you had a ball because of that. And you had to grab a piece of pizza, passing it on to your mom instantly, although the poor woman would probably have needed a shot instead due to all this excitement. I wish I could have joined into the laughter and appreciate the humor and good mood in that audience.
Beautiful. That’s what Ellen said to you – twice. First when she addressed all the ladies in front of her, telling them how beautiful they all looked, only to close with the words:
“I’m not gonna say who looks the most beautiful, but it’s clear – it’s Jared Leto. He’s the prettiest.”
Does the woman even know that she was right on there?
And then she commented to your speech after you had been given the first Oscar of the night. “Beautiful!” That’s what she said and by God, it was a beautiful speech.
It touched everyone in the audience, everyone who listened around the world and made me finally break down, but who needs to know?
Right, Colin, who are you trying to fool? Why am I trying to make myself believe that I’m envious of that statue you held in your hand? Of an award that’s probably gonna end up like all the others you ever won.
I know many of our collegues have special glass cabinets for their awards and dust them off each and every day, worshipping them as though they’d actually mean anything. You keep yours in the bathroom and the kitchen and any other place you considered appropriate after bringing them home. I bet you just drop them in the first space you take them to, so I wouldn’t be surprised if that Oscar ended up in the garage or the frigde or some corner of your couch. I heard you even lent it to the media people backstage during the show for them to take selfies with a real Oscar. Others would defent that stupid statue with their life and cling to it like a drowing man to a piece of driftwood – I know, you couldn’t care less. It probably ends up being a toilet paper holder or something.
What really hurts is not the award you won, but the one I lost. Many years ago I was given the most special prize in the world – your love, your friendship, you – and I should have treasured that more than any meaningless statue, more than honors and praise and acknowledgement of my everyday work. But I didn’t. I let my ego get in the way, let a thick layer of dust cover what was more special and precious than anything else in my life, instead of worshipping and polishing it each day of my life.
And then I had to watch you stand on that stage and hold your speech. A speech that started with the words “Ellen, I love you.” And it continued with the declaration of your love to your mom, to Shannon and even Matthew McConaughey – but not me. Shouldn’t I have been there? After all these years? Shouldn’t I have been in front row right by your side, hugging you first of all when you won that award, being mentioned as one of the first in your speech, openly, honestly, without fear, without hiding, with pride and head held high? And why wasn’t I? Because I was a fool? Because I was a coward? Or most of all, because I didn’t see that I have won the greatest of all awards in the world long ago?
I gotta go. I’ve waited far too long.
The closing words of your speech start ringing in my ears:” To those of you out there, who have ever felt injustice, because of who you are or who you love …”
Was that a message? A first step into the right direction – the first words to let the world know that you, that we, are among those who could never say openly how we feel and who we love? And if so, does that mean you still feel that way? Is there still hope for us?
I need to find out. I need to see you. I need to tell you how much I love you and give you that well deserved hug and kiss on winning the Oscar.
And who knows, in the end it might be me who wins the bigger prize tonight.
I hope you like it and feedback still is very much appreciated. Thanks for reading!