![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
shegollum.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
rugbytackleThis is a REPOST of Chapter 13 which some people have been unable to access in the original post. Not sure why so I thought I'd just post again. So sorry for the spam! -- Shegollum
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Title: Green Dark by shegollum -- Part 13/?
Author: shegollum
Pairing: Viggo/Bean; includes some Orlando, too.
Rating: R - NC17
Summary: Morning after the night before...where are they in this strange new space?
Warnings: Angst; mental cruelty/instability; possibly non-con; cutting; substance abuse -- you name it...we've probably got it.
Disclaimer: No truth in it at all.
Archive: Viggo-Cursive and rugbytackle eventually
A/N: Not beta'd. All errors are completely mine and mine alone. If you like it, please take the time to let me know. Its always appreciated. Thanks a bunch.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Banner by the wonderful Amanda (![[profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
legomyarrow). :-)
Ch 13
Sean was alone in the house, completely unoccupied and therefore trapped by unfailingly clear thoughts he could no longer blur and avoid with alcohol. His restlessness had been increasing as he began to hold steady against his addiction and he felt the need for finality. If nothing else, Sean considered himself a man of action and he had begun to strongly feel that he needed to tackle this situation head on and bring it to its inevitable end.
He would see Viggo. He’d look him in the eye and close this chapter in his life and move on.
He slipped out to meet the cab he’d called, leaving a note in case Orlando came home before he did.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“You look like hell, Vig,” Orlando whispered, shocked at the appearance of the man before him. Dark smudges marked the skin below his eyes and his face was pale and drawn, speaking volumes about little sleep and loss of appetite. His demeanor was detached but polite and he offered no explanation, only a distant, uninvolved shrug, almost as though he didn’t know the person in question.
Orlando heard a car door slam and it jarred him for a moment, allowing Viggo to escape his watchful gaze by turning toward the sink, busying himself with unimportant tasks.
“Vig. Look at me. Please.”
Slowly the other man stopped his fidgeting and seemed to steel himself before turning to meet Orlando’s gaze. He looked at the younger man, his face composed and masked and then he faltered, eyes sparking with an intensity that was painful to see. He was looking past Orlando and clearly struggling to regain composure, his chin dipping as he took a long deep breath, his hands clenched at his sides… and only then did Orlando realize what it was he saw. At the moment the realization struck, it was underscored by his name rasped in the unique accent that could only belong to Bean.
“Orlando.”
The younger man spun around, stunned to see him standing there in the kitchen behind him, flushed and angry as he glared at Orlando, sparing only a few glances for Viggo who’d not moved or spoken in the endless moment since Sean had appeared.
“Sean—“
“Go, Orlando. Go home. Viggo and I need to talk.” His words were directed at the younger man, but Sean’s green eyes were focused directly on Viggo. Orlando turned to see the effect it had on the other man. He looked worn and tired but somehow also rock-solid with a resolve that had come over him. His eyes were steady, the blue-gray calm and focused, his face perfectly masking what Orlando knew he held beneath.
Viggo nodded at him and spoke softly with no urgency, the words floating away from him. “Go on, Orlando. It’s okay.”
Knowing that there was nothing he could do for them other than leave them alone to find whatever peace they could, the younger man nodded. He tried to meet Viggo’s eyes but the other man shied away, keeping his gaze down, his body rigid in anticipation of the confrontation he knew would come. The younger man turned to leave, walking toward Sean and seeing in his face something he’d not expected. He realized that the other man was shocked and confused by Viggo’s appearance too, and that somewhere in him he was concerned. Orlando nodded slowly, slightly at him, wanting him to absorb what he was seeing, to know that despite the bravado Viggo was hurting and sick with all that had happened.
Sean clapped him on his shoulder as he went by, offering him a sympathetic scowl of the type only Bean could conjure up, and for a moment Orlando felt a real hope that everything would be alright again. He left because there was nothing else to be done. Worry for his friends ate away at him as he pulled the door closed behind him.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“What the hell is wrong with you, Viggo? You look fucking awful.”
For a fraction of a second, Viggo could believe he heard concern in the remarks from Sean and he wanted so much to give into it, to allow another to care. To allow Sean to care. But instead he spoke quickly and harshly, his words flat and coldly unwelcoming.
“What do you want, Sean?”
“That’s all you have to say, is it? What do I want? How odd for you to ask that now, Viggo.”
The American pushed away from the sink, hands slowly playing at the cuffs of his long sleeves, his attention focused on the floor until he got close to the other man. Then he looked right at Sean and he was surprised at his capacity to still feel what he did. The sting of tears jabbed at him as he saw the green darkness of Sean’s eyes. The flatness and the denial of entry were complete. Sean was writing him off.
It was what he wanted – needed – to have happen, but the pain in seeing it done was almost his undoing and he took a wobbly step backward, feeling behind him for a kitchen chair.
Sean instinctively stepped closer, sensing.
And Viggo barked words out again quickly, pushing, needing to see the hate and the anger he deserved, sure he would explode into a million pieces at anything resembling compassion.
“Fuck off, Sean. Say what you need to say and then get out, okay?”
Sean looked as though he’d been hit, his face awash with pain and then immediate anger. But then he stepped back, eyebrows knotted over his strong nose, his hands coming up to rub at his temples. He knew he was shaking and wondered abstractedly if it was due to lack of drink or anger. Or something else.
He needed to make this break. He would not – could not -- let this degenerate any further than it already had. He wanted a clean break so that there would some hope in hell that with time would come healing. He pulled a measure of calm control from somewhere deep inside himself and started speaking in deliberately level tones, wondering as he did so if he’d be able to say it all before his resolve started falling apart.
“I know you have no need for me now, Viggo. But I don’t understand why. I don’t understand what you think happened that night or why you were filled with such hate afterwards. All I know is that I am sorry for all of it. I regret losing me best mate. Regret losing a chance for there to be more. If there ever was a chance.”
He wanted – and feared – to look into Viggo’s eyes just this one more time but the other man sat before him with his head bowed and Sean could discern no reaction in him at all. He’d decided before he’d ever come here that these thoughts had to be voiced, had to be spoken aloud if only so that he could know they’d been expressed once and for all and he could then let them go. He went on.
“And I am sorry for not knowing enough to figure it out and make it right. Perhaps if I’d acted sooner all those years ago. But I didn’t and now things have changed too much for me to do anything. You’ve pushed me so far away, Viggo, and you’ve shown me that it really meant nothing at all. None of it. That makes me sorriest of all, mate. That you never were the man I thought you were. And that is the worst loss I could have imagined... I'm just fucking sorry for it all...”
He could feel his control giving way and he needed to be gone from here. From him. To Sean’s eyes, Viggo never moved. He didn’t flinch at the words. He didn’t react to the break in Sean’s voice, not the first time nor the second. He didn’t even look up as Sean turned for the door.
It was only when he heard the parched, broken “Wait” from behind him that he was sure he’d been heard at all.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Title: Green Dark by shegollum -- Part 13/?
Author: shegollum
Pairing: Viggo/Bean; includes some Orlando, too.
Rating: R - NC17
Summary: Morning after the night before...where are they in this strange new space?
Warnings: Angst; mental cruelty/instability; possibly non-con; cutting; substance abuse -- you name it...we've probably got it.
Disclaimer: No truth in it at all.
Archive: Viggo-Cursive and rugbytackle eventually
A/N: Not beta'd. All errors are completely mine and mine alone. If you like it, please take the time to let me know. Its always appreciated. Thanks a bunch.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
legomyarrow). :-) Ch 13
Sean was alone in the house, completely unoccupied and therefore trapped by unfailingly clear thoughts he could no longer blur and avoid with alcohol. His restlessness had been increasing as he began to hold steady against his addiction and he felt the need for finality. If nothing else, Sean considered himself a man of action and he had begun to strongly feel that he needed to tackle this situation head on and bring it to its inevitable end.
He would see Viggo. He’d look him in the eye and close this chapter in his life and move on.
He slipped out to meet the cab he’d called, leaving a note in case Orlando came home before he did.
“You look like hell, Vig,” Orlando whispered, shocked at the appearance of the man before him. Dark smudges marked the skin below his eyes and his face was pale and drawn, speaking volumes about little sleep and loss of appetite. His demeanor was detached but polite and he offered no explanation, only a distant, uninvolved shrug, almost as though he didn’t know the person in question.
Orlando heard a car door slam and it jarred him for a moment, allowing Viggo to escape his watchful gaze by turning toward the sink, busying himself with unimportant tasks.
“Vig. Look at me. Please.”
Slowly the other man stopped his fidgeting and seemed to steel himself before turning to meet Orlando’s gaze. He looked at the younger man, his face composed and masked and then he faltered, eyes sparking with an intensity that was painful to see. He was looking past Orlando and clearly struggling to regain composure, his chin dipping as he took a long deep breath, his hands clenched at his sides… and only then did Orlando realize what it was he saw. At the moment the realization struck, it was underscored by his name rasped in the unique accent that could only belong to Bean.
“Orlando.”
The younger man spun around, stunned to see him standing there in the kitchen behind him, flushed and angry as he glared at Orlando, sparing only a few glances for Viggo who’d not moved or spoken in the endless moment since Sean had appeared.
“Sean—“
“Go, Orlando. Go home. Viggo and I need to talk.” His words were directed at the younger man, but Sean’s green eyes were focused directly on Viggo. Orlando turned to see the effect it had on the other man. He looked worn and tired but somehow also rock-solid with a resolve that had come over him. His eyes were steady, the blue-gray calm and focused, his face perfectly masking what Orlando knew he held beneath.
Viggo nodded at him and spoke softly with no urgency, the words floating away from him. “Go on, Orlando. It’s okay.”
Knowing that there was nothing he could do for them other than leave them alone to find whatever peace they could, the younger man nodded. He tried to meet Viggo’s eyes but the other man shied away, keeping his gaze down, his body rigid in anticipation of the confrontation he knew would come. The younger man turned to leave, walking toward Sean and seeing in his face something he’d not expected. He realized that the other man was shocked and confused by Viggo’s appearance too, and that somewhere in him he was concerned. Orlando nodded slowly, slightly at him, wanting him to absorb what he was seeing, to know that despite the bravado Viggo was hurting and sick with all that had happened.
Sean clapped him on his shoulder as he went by, offering him a sympathetic scowl of the type only Bean could conjure up, and for a moment Orlando felt a real hope that everything would be alright again. He left because there was nothing else to be done. Worry for his friends ate away at him as he pulled the door closed behind him.
“What the hell is wrong with you, Viggo? You look fucking awful.”
For a fraction of a second, Viggo could believe he heard concern in the remarks from Sean and he wanted so much to give into it, to allow another to care. To allow Sean to care. But instead he spoke quickly and harshly, his words flat and coldly unwelcoming.
“What do you want, Sean?”
“That’s all you have to say, is it? What do I want? How odd for you to ask that now, Viggo.”
The American pushed away from the sink, hands slowly playing at the cuffs of his long sleeves, his attention focused on the floor until he got close to the other man. Then he looked right at Sean and he was surprised at his capacity to still feel what he did. The sting of tears jabbed at him as he saw the green darkness of Sean’s eyes. The flatness and the denial of entry were complete. Sean was writing him off.
It was what he wanted – needed – to have happen, but the pain in seeing it done was almost his undoing and he took a wobbly step backward, feeling behind him for a kitchen chair.
Sean instinctively stepped closer, sensing.
And Viggo barked words out again quickly, pushing, needing to see the hate and the anger he deserved, sure he would explode into a million pieces at anything resembling compassion.
“Fuck off, Sean. Say what you need to say and then get out, okay?”
Sean looked as though he’d been hit, his face awash with pain and then immediate anger. But then he stepped back, eyebrows knotted over his strong nose, his hands coming up to rub at his temples. He knew he was shaking and wondered abstractedly if it was due to lack of drink or anger. Or something else.
He needed to make this break. He would not – could not -- let this degenerate any further than it already had. He wanted a clean break so that there would some hope in hell that with time would come healing. He pulled a measure of calm control from somewhere deep inside himself and started speaking in deliberately level tones, wondering as he did so if he’d be able to say it all before his resolve started falling apart.
“I know you have no need for me now, Viggo. But I don’t understand why. I don’t understand what you think happened that night or why you were filled with such hate afterwards. All I know is that I am sorry for all of it. I regret losing me best mate. Regret losing a chance for there to be more. If there ever was a chance.”
He wanted – and feared – to look into Viggo’s eyes just this one more time but the other man sat before him with his head bowed and Sean could discern no reaction in him at all. He’d decided before he’d ever come here that these thoughts had to be voiced, had to be spoken aloud if only so that he could know they’d been expressed once and for all and he could then let them go. He went on.
“And I am sorry for not knowing enough to figure it out and make it right. Perhaps if I’d acted sooner all those years ago. But I didn’t and now things have changed too much for me to do anything. You’ve pushed me so far away, Viggo, and you’ve shown me that it really meant nothing at all. None of it. That makes me sorriest of all, mate. That you never were the man I thought you were. And that is the worst loss I could have imagined... I'm just fucking sorry for it all...”
He could feel his control giving way and he needed to be gone from here. From him. To Sean’s eyes, Viggo never moved. He didn’t flinch at the words. He didn’t react to the break in Sean’s voice, not the first time nor the second. He didn’t even look up as Sean turned for the door.
It was only when he heard the parched, broken “Wait” from behind him that he was sure he’d been heard at all.
no subject
Date: 2005-10-24 05:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-28 01:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-27 09:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-28 01:07 am (UTC)