"Hello?"

"Hey."

"Hey. Where the fuck are you, man, we're suppose to be at dinner in like..."

"Er, yeah, hold on for a second. Dom. Remember when we did that interview for the Lord of the Rings fan magazine?"

"...yeahhh, vaguely, like...that blonde bloke, right?"

"Yeah. Ah. Did we get sort of drunk before doing that, d'you remember?"

"I don't...think so. Why?"

"Did you get a copy of the article before they published it, then?"

"No. Did you?"

"No. It came out today."

"Sooo?"

"The question that the interviewer guy asked me to write down so he could ask you. The question was 'What are your favorite 18 things about Billy?'"

"The fuck did you put that down for?"

"Don't remember. 'S'why I figured maybe we were a wee bit drunk."

"That was...a bad idea, Bills. Shit. I don't even remember the eighteen things."

"I don't think you want to remember the eighteen things."

"...Billy. What the fuck did I say?"

"Uhhm."

"Billy."

"Dom, maybe you should just go and get a copy for yourself—"

"Boyd, start reading, or I'll come over there and kick your arse right now!"

"Ah. Right. Well."

"..."

"Fine! Number one was, ahm, the 'space between his nose and lip.' Says: 'I think it's called the filtrum. That's f-i-l-t-r-u-m. Billy's got a fantastic filtrum. You know how babies have that very cute, sweet little filtrum? Billy's got the exact same thing! So that would be my number one favorite thing about Billy.'"

"...Fucking...bloody...hell..."

"Kind of sweet, actually. I didn't know you liked that spot."

"Billy! Uh, first off—I kiss it enough, you should have noticed. And second, Christ! I said this in a published interview!"

"We've got a long way to go, Dommie."

"Right. Jesus. Next."

"Number two. 'Very small, dainty hands and feet, which makes him very dexterous—anything that he does with his hands is always very precise.'"

"Dainty hands and feet. Dainty. Hands. Precise. Dexterous. I'm going to kill myself. Are you laughing? Because I know you aren't finding this amusing, Billy."

"No. Of course...not. Number three! 'Quite big biceps for such a small man. Big, strong arms.'"

"Big strong arms. Right. Hear that noise? That's my skull, smashing the wall. Hope you aren't attached to the shape of my face, because after the doctors piece it back together—"

"Number four: 'Funny.'"

"Verbose, aren't I? Well. That's. Okay."

"'Course you are, babe. Number five: 'His hair. There's something very interesting with his hair. When he's in a good mood, he spikes it all up, so he looks like a complete lunatic.'"

"Hair. Brilliant. I sound like a bloody thirteen year old girl."

"Nasty mental images there. Moving along! Number six: 'His voice...very good.'"

"Oh, we've worked it back up to four words, fantastic. Relieved that I didn't totally loose it third of the way through. Although I might as well've went on to say '...especially when he leans over and purrs sweet nothings in my ear.' Stop chuckling, you!"

"That was a cough. A cough, I swear! Er, number seven: 'He's got quite enchanting eyes. You know how it is with the eclipse? If you keep looking at it for a certain amount of time, you can't stop—you have to keep looking at it. That's like Billy's eyes—if you look at them for more then 20 or 30 seconds, then you're hooked. There have been a couple of times in bars where I've had to actually pull girls away, so they'd stop looking at his eyes...you'll be there the rest of your life!' Aw, Dom."

"I just compared your eyes to an enchanting eclipse! Was I composing love notes hastily on napkins and passing them to you during this interview, as well?"

"Actually, you didn't say the eclipse itself was enchanting, it was—"

"Yes, I heard, Billy, thank you."

"...Number eight: 'I really liked the smell of his car when we were in New Zealand, because we used to keep our surfboards in there, and his car just absolutely reeked of rotting wetsuits and sand and protein shakes. Billy didn't care about that.' Well, that one isn't very flattering. I have a stinky car. There goes my bid for the cover of YM."

"'Bout time something not sounding like a marriage proposal came out!"

"..."

"What?"

"Uh. You'll see later."

"Oh, God."

"Number nine: 'He got me into a couple of bands I really liked.'"

"That was a sigh of relief, in case you didn't catch it exactly. Did my agent slip a note into my hand right there, reminding me to stop talking about you like I was madly in love with you or he'd flay me alive and wear my skin on his tribal belt? Because I think he did."

"Mm. This is just a short reprieve, I promise you. Number ten: 'Choice of movies. He's got very good taste in films.' Thank you!"

"You're bloody welcome."

"Number eleven: 'Oh, here's another good thing about Billy: If you're ever in a restaurant where you've never been before, Billy will always pick the restaurant's main meal—the one that they do the best. No matter what it is, he'll always go for it.' Wonderful. I'm one of those prissy restaurant types."

"What! It's a compliment. But, man, are my platonic comments about you boring..."

"Fah. Number twelve: 'Fear of heights. Billy's got a great fear of heights that he just doesn't question. I'm very scared of heights, too, and when we went to do this bungee jump, I said to him, "We're going to conquer our fear of heights. Come on, that's what we'll do. We'll do a bungee jump and then you can always say you did it." And Billy was like, "No. I'm afraid of heights, and that's the type of person I am, and that's what I'm sticking to." I like that!'"

"Hee. Afraid of heights."

"Remind me to box your ears."

"Writing it down as we speak, love."

"Oh yeah. Keep up the attitude. Number thirteen: 'Sleeps like a dormouse at any opportunity. If Billy's given 25 minutes to sleep, he'll do it. Whereas if I'm given 25 minutes to sleep, I'll run off and get a drink, go and call someone, play with my Playstation...do 50 million things at the same time and get frustrated.' I'm the mature one and you're the neurotic—I think I can deal with that."

"Wanker."

"Number fourteen: 'Good surfer. He's my main surfing buddy, which is always a good thing. He's also my scuba-diving buddy and my kayaking and canoeing partner. So we have a great relationship both in and out of the water.'"

"Is that what they call it nowadays?"

"I'm glad we have a great relationship 'both in and out of the water.' Why do you make us sound like reformed mermaids?"

"Fuck you."

"Well, we could always go kayaking...we're such great...kayaking partners."

"Hating you."

"Or scuba-diving. Haven't dived that scuba in a while, it's getting a little rusty..."

"..."

"I love you?"

"Finish this bloody thing before I strangle myself with the phone cord."

"Number fifteen: 'Always shares his food. When we're in a restaurant, Billy will always say, "Try this."' And I'm generous! Wow. I keep looking better and better."

"'...and he'll feed me the offered food gently, cupping my cheek, and then ask me in that husky Scottish drawl "More, then, Dommie?"'"

"Hee!"

"Shut up."

"What? You said it, not me. Number sixteen: 'We enjoy drinking pretty much the same amount, which is nice. If you're going to spend a year and a half with someone, it's good if you can drink on the same level! Billy and I can keep up with each other, which is essential.'"

"Ah. My agent must've caught wind of that food sharing thing and reminded me to say something manly about beer to distract the audience."

"Least you didn't lie."

"This article requires more lying. Honesty bad. Lying, good. We're almost there. Come on, I know you're saving the best for last."

"Number seventeen: 'I love the fact that he chose 17 favorite things because he knew I could only think of 16!'"

"Yay for me being a complete moron."

"And the interviewer says, 'Actually, it's 18.' And then you go, 'Oh, really.' And then it says I laugh loudly. Why wasn't I shutting you up before this? Maybe I was enjoying your idiotic, verbal flailing. Hee."

"..."

"...Okay, yeah, and then you finish with... 'My 18th one is...let me think. Oh—the fact that he always leaves his sunglasses everywhere. While I've been with him, he's probably lost about seven or eight pairs. In New Zealand, he'd just leave them on cafe tables. What I used to do is just pick them up automatically, and a couple of hours later, he'd say, "Oh shit! I left my sunglasses!" I'd say "No Billy...here you go." That was my job: picking up sunglasses.'"

"Don't we make the cutest little couple, then?"

"Love the 'while I've been with him.'"

"...I didn't even notice that. Fuck."

"Why are we newlyweds, Dom?"

"Why are we in this magazine saying these things, Billy?"

"Um, why are you in this magazine—"

"Well. Fine. Alright, it was bad. But it's over. At least it isn't like... People, or Time, or Newsweek or something."

"..."

"What now?"

"It isn't over. The interviewer has another topic."

"Fuck."

"He goes, 'You two really are like an old married couple. You know each other so well.' And you jump out with, 'We really are! There are a lot of gay rumors rife on the Internet.'"

"..."

"And he says, 'I really didn't mean it that way!' I think I'm slowly remembering your blank stare at that moment. Way to avoid the blatant play on words, Dom."

"Arrrgh!"

"Oh, it doesn't stop there..."

"I'm going to drive my car off a bridge."

"'Well, there are rumors! We spend so much time together. We enjoy each other's company. We're constantly walking up and down the red carpet with an arm around each other and chatting and all that kind of stuff.'—"

"...and making hot, sweaty, passionate love to each other nightly, also, and then we snuggle like fuzzy little happy bunnies and eat scrambled eggs and bacon—"

"'So the rumors are rife! There was also a rumor about Elijah and me that Ian McKellen told us about—we were having an affair in LA! But you know, I'm not going to confirm or deny!' You and Elijah? Yeah, right, I can see that. Christ. Ian told you about that?"

"Yeah, he did. Bollocks, really. Sean was living with Elijah on the hush part-time then, when I visited, and just sort of avoided being mentioned in the press. I was never even alone with the kid, except for when we went out."

"Ah. Bastard, you could've at least denied it, though."

"Aw. You're jealous."

"I am not! Elijah's creamy blue-eyed loveliness has got nothing on me..."

"Ha, ha."

"Yeah? Well. Here's the wallop, Dom. 'Billy and I do fit like a jigsaw. Still now, three or four years down the line of knowing each other, we'll manage to make each other crack up in tears of laughter...and fascinate each other, which is the perfect relationship. Maybe we'll get married in a couple of years! If he was a girl, I'd marry him today. I've been suggesting to Billy a sex change, but he really feels quite manly about things.'"

"..."

"Dom. Stop—Dom, stop hitting your head on the... Dom!"

"Maybe we'll get married in a couple of years? Oh, right, so, yes. Yes. That's just fecking perfect. That's... Perfect relationship! Fascinate each other? If he was a girl, I'd marry him today?"

"...I think your agent's notes were full of blank spaces that you, ah, filled with your own input..."

"..."

"Well, then I shout, 'I love women!' Uhm. Guess my agent tuned in, too, and prodded something sharp and pointy into my backside. And you say 'Yes, he's very passionate about women, as am I.'"

"Could that sound more like me reading off a teleprompter? Did I have the vaguely moronic stare into the space just above the camera look on?"

"No comment. Ah, and then you ramble about our women preferences being different and talk about how we're like putting Brad Pitt and Tom Cruise together, all lady-killing-duo like. Oozing heterosexuality, you know."

"And I thought I couldn't get any more lame."

"Er, and then you say that I have a girlfriend right now and have had for awhile."

"What?"

"Wonder where I left her."

"Did you check under the bed? You always lose pants under the—"

"I think I hear shrieking. Oh, bollocks. You've got to feed them, too?"

"Think so, mate."

"Don't I feel silly now. Guess I'd better go and rescue Dominica—"

"HA!"

"Well. Let's put the last nail in the coffin, shall we? The last thing of import you say is, 'You should definitely put in the article that I'm single, and like women!'"

"Uurrrgh."

"So. To sum. You couldn't've spelled out 'I'm not straight and I love Billy Boyd' any clearer, essentially."

"My agent is going to be unemployed as soon as I get off the line."

"Orrr, our fans will think we're quirky, and comfortable with our sexuality, and—"

"—completely and totally gay beyond all standards of gayness."

"Why's the glass always half empty, Dom?"

"Hating you again."

"Are we still going to dinner?"

"Why? So you can pick the best dishes, and feed me, and then forget your sunglasses so your wife—I mean so I—will pick them up helpfully? And then we'll ride home in your smelly yet quaint car, and drink equally, and walk arm in arm up the red carpet—"

"...Dom."

"Or then we can get married, because we're not at all in love."

"...Dom!"

"What?"

"I love you, you big stupid lout."

"...Gotta take the wind out of me with that tone, don't you?"

"Absolutely. Dinner, then?"

"...Yeah."

"I'll be in the driveway."

"Mm. Hey."

"Yeah?"

"Love you, too."

Billy smiled and hung up the phone, tucking his copy of the magazine into an end table drawer.