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[grizelda.livejournal.com]

Title: Sleeping with ghosts
Author: Inge
Pairing: Viggo Mortensen/Sean Bean
Rating: PG-15, I guess. Death, depression.
Feedback: It’s what makes writers write. Please.
Warning: As I said. Death, depression. Slash, too.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. Title is the same as one of Placebo’s CD’s.
Author's note: This is definitely one of the more awkward fics I’ve written. Don’t ask me what I mean to tell you, I have no idea. Just… use your imagination, I guess.
Summary: Viggo loses Sean and tries to find peace in memories instead.

A dark room at night. The rain outside drums on the windows, creating a monotone rhythm that had been going on for hours already. The streets were deserted, except for a rare passer-by.

But Viggo pays no attention. He hardly even looks out of the window any more lately; he finds it rather useless to take notice of the world outside. His own world, after all, had stopped the moment Sean had left him.

The bad weather suits Viggo’s mood, depressing and dark. People who know Viggo are worried about him. The otherwise content, social man (social, at least, when he wasn’t involved in one of his paintings, because then he was outright introvert) has locked himself in his room most of the time, refusing to talk to anyone.

It had all started when Sean died. His death shocked all of his friends, but no one was hurt more than Viggo. Sean and Viggo had been a couple for 6 months, and it was obvious to everyone that they were deeply in love.

Of course their relation had had its ups and downs, as every relation had. But in the end, they were happy with each other. Until Sean had gone away.

No one ever really found out what had happened. All that was clear was that someone had tried to rob Sean, but when Sean didn’t surrender right away his attacker had stabbed him in the stomach several times with a knife. The doctors said he’d been dead right away.

The news had made Viggo’s world collapse. He retreated in his room, focusing on his paintings only. Every once in a while he’d go out to buy groceries, but he tried to avoid his friends as much as he could.

However, it’s nights like this one he’d stop painting and listen to the rain. As he closes his eyes he brings back the image of Sean, smiling at him. The way Sean had looked when Viggo had first kissed him, a look that had turned into pure ecstasy within minutes.

The way Sean looked when they had sex, his hair ruffled and lips flushed. The way Sean screamed Viggo’s name when he came, and how they would fall asleep in each other’s arms afterwards.

Also the anger Sean’s eyes would hold when they had an argument, a look that always made Viggo shiver either in fear or awe, he didn’t know.

He could remember the way Sean’s hands felt on his skin as they gently stroked every inch of Viggo, making him surrender again and again.

But now, memories were all Viggo had. Imaginary hands, creeping over his skin, making him run out of breath. A soft breeze replacing Sean’s breath on Viggo’s mouth right before they kissed.

The only thing that made Viggo continue his life was the memory of the way Sean felt, how he tasted, how he would moan.

On nights like this, Viggo lets his own hands roam over his body, pretending it’s Sean touching him again. It’s imagining how Sean tasted, drinking in the remembrance as if it were a real kiss. His own moans as a substitute for Sean’s, wriggling in the sheets as the memory of Sean took over his body.

Sometimes, he could actually feel Sean’s fingers tracing swirling patterns on his back. The voice of a ghost echoing in his head over and over again, making him wish he was dead so he could be with Sean.

Once, Viggo had slept with someone else. It had been the first night he went out after Sean’s passing, and his friends were delighted. Viggo, however, got himself drunk within two hours and had fallen for a young lad he didn’t even know the name of.

They ended up at the other man’s apartment, fucking each other senseless before long. But when Viggo came, it was Sean’s name he yelled, and it was Sean’s body he felt. Not the stranger’s body, but Sean’s.

It never came to a second date. The memory of Sean made sure he couldn’t even think of someone else, let alone kiss someone else. And loving someone other than Sean was definitely out of the question.

So Viggo returns to his old habits, touching himself as the recollection of mental images of Sean invade his mind all over again, making him beg for release he can’t have. It satisfies him, for a while.

But in the end, it’s nothing but sleeping with ghosts.

~fin~