rugbytackle | No One Is Matured in Love ( Part 1 )

Well, now I'm posting No One Is Matured in Love, the following story of A Love Kind of Immortal. When I started working on this sequel, I planed to post it in one volume after whole story is completed, but I've changed my mind to divide the story into three installments. Why? - To force me to complete the story! I'm not skilled at writing whether in English or in my first language. So I need this kind of pressure to finish my VigBean! :P

Title: No One Is Matured in Love ( Part 1 )
Pairing: Viggo / Sean
Rating: G
Archiving: Rugbytackling
Author: nanathecat
Summary: Viggo faces with his own feelings toward Sean.
Disclaimer: All happened in my mind.
Note: It follows A Love Kind of Immortal. Thanks for bittercaramel and Ayui, without their supports I couldn’t have written this up. Hope you would like my VigBean world...

No One Is Matured in Love ( Part 1 )

Tuesday night
Viggo let release a long sigh. His own house and his own time after three days. Henry seemed to have got to bed. He tossed his backpack away somewhere around there and threw himself on the cluttered sofa in the living room. Piled magazines and paper were crushed and pushed away on the floor. But he didn’t care. He was deadly tired. Tired with his new filming business stuff and, and… Fucking, shake off about him. Felt closeness he removed a tie and belt and suit jacket untidily. Threw them away around there, he closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

He loved acting but he never got used to the aspect of its affects on his life. He basically didn’t want to be disturbed his pace of life and other creative activities. Filming was one of the ways of showing his self-expression. To cooperate with people to create something was a brilliant point of filming. But once a shooting started his time was bound by its minute-to-minute schedule and a character he got internalized took over him. He couldn’t keep himself free for taking photos or sketching or composing poetries as his capricious muses tempted him. That was not good. Of course he knew that was the filming. And it was a work. He had to do what he was demanded. Even if his nature preferred to let things go as it were, rather than controlled or to be controlled.

I might think about retire from filming. He thought vaguely. It was not his first time to think so. Filming is not the only way to acting. Poetry reading is also a good performance to act. How about leaving the film world? The world wide success of the LOTR trilogy brought him enthusiastic interference, and the phenomenon never went down but seemed to have been heating up every single time he appeared in a new film. Year by year he felt difficulty to keep his own life to come back himself.

Move to a small ranch, maybe in Idaho or somewhere else, lovely horses and quiet days with painting and taking photos… He imagined himself living in his dream land. Not bad. Then a bitter laugh came out of his mouth. The scenery came up to his mind was the beautiful nature of New Zealand.
“Do you want to go back there, Viggo Peter Mortensen?” He asked himself. This was a question repeated within him hundred times for the past one year. So he knew the repeated answer too. “No, I don’t.” He murmured himself under his breath.

However his emotion betrayed himself today. In his mind it whispered like the Ring; Yes, I do. This never happened before. Yes-or-No battle developed within him for a short while. Finally his reason reluctantly gave way for his emotion, despite his hope. His now free emotion started to claim. Yes, I want to go back there. Why not? It all started there in those perfect days. Everyone would want to go back to their best longing days, wouldn’t they? But he refused them. They were against his policy. No one could go back their time. Life was not for past but for future.

He sighed and glanced his watch. It was near to 11 pm, and about thirty-two hours had passed since he parted from Sean at the hotel. He sighed again as he placed his left forearm over his eyes and threw his right hand down on the floor. He wanted to abandon those fragments of disjointed thoughts. He knew it was all for his tiredness such negative feelings dominated him tonight. He needed sleep – and finally an overwhelming sleep was taking over him. But his intent reason went against that; eat something, take a shower, go to bed to rest yourself.

As he lifted up his heavy body, he ignored the words were overlapped with a certain voice. He was too tired to think about it now. With unsteady steps he walked up to his bedroom and dived into the bed from his head. Kicking off his shoes and socks he sunk into the bed and closed his eyes. Watery green eyes crossed his mind, but before he recognized them he let go of his conscious. He never had even dream.

Wednesday morning
Viggo was roused from his sleep by the sound of the door opened and closed, and someone was sneaking around beside his bed. He moaned and turned over toward the sound. Since he didn’t shut the curtain last night, the room was very clear and warm.
“Sorry, did I awake you?” Henry’s modest voice promoted his awakening. He groaned for his answer and rubbed his eyes. Meanwhile Henry went around his room looking for something.

“What are you looking for?” Viggo asked throaty voice in the bed.
“I’m looking for your pants go with the jacket you’ve left in the living room,” Henry went on, “a cleaner is coming in an hour to picking up the laundry box.” Henry carefully looked about the scattered room, and finally gave up and stretched his back. “It’s nowhere.”

“Hmm…” Viggo buried his face in the pillow and peeked up his son with a mischievous eye. Henry exactly knew what that meant. He unexpectedly grabbed off the top quilt and blanket together from his father. Viggo at once tried to snag them back but it was too late.
“I might have known!” Henry shouted and reached his hands toward Viggo’s bottoms.
“No!” Giggling and squealing, Viggo curling up tossed and turned in the bed to keep his pants. When Henry finally somehow drew it off from his legs, Viggo’s lower body was half felt from the bed, and they were both panting for laughing too much.

“You’re day off today, aren’t you?” Henry asked recovering his breath.
“Well, coming to that,” Viggo toned down and propped up on his elbows on the bed, started undoing the buttons of his dress shirt.
“You couldn’t take off?” Henry took on a sorry face.
“I could take three days off!” Grinning at his son wickedly, Viggo threw the undressed shirt to hit at Henry’s face. Scarcely caught it, Henry pouted and opened the door.
“Dad, take a shower for brunch.” He said as he left the room.
“In five minutes!” Viggo said but it was turned down by the laughing voice from behind the closed door. “Need ten minutes, you smell!”
Viggo threw his rolled-up undershirt at the door.

After thirty minutes, completely refreshed Viggo was at the dining table for his perfect brunch; thick pieces of bacon, sunny-side up eggs, green salad with sliced tomato, bread and chocolate spread, yoghurt and orange juice. Sitting down the chair he first looked at the time today. The clock on the wall pointed to around 10:30 am. He was surprised at himself sleeping more than eleven hours without awaking last night. He usually didn’t need such long hours for sleeping. Five or six hours were enough. But this dead sleep was obviously good for him regaining his energy. His body was light and head was clear. His stomach was now ready for eating.

Brunch was beautiful. While he was busy in eating, Henry, sitting on the sofa in the living room next to the dining room, stopped reading a magazine and turned his face about Viggo. “Dad, could you see Sean at the hotel?”
Viggo almost choked over the block of bacon. He made haste to wash it down with the orange juice so that his throat was soar and ended up coughing. Blinking back tears he looked back Henry cautiously.
“Sorry, did I surprise you?” Henry said politely but his eyes were clearly amazed at his restless manner. His young straight gaze made Viggo feet like he couldn’t sit still.

“No, I’m ok, but how do you know that?” Viggo asked trying to keep his calm.
“Cos it’s me telling him where you were,” Henry said.
Who did What!? – Viggo barely swallowed his shout but couldn’t stop his jaw dropping.
Henry looked at him wonderingly. “He called up in Monday morning,” he went on, “He was in LA and wanted to see you. So I told him your hotel…,” but his words trailed off into silence as Viggo deepened his frown. “Err, I shouldn’t do that?”
Henry’s puzzled face let Viggo notice what expression he took on now. “Of course you could,” he put on his smile and went on, “no problem at all, thanks to you I could see him,” at the end after thirteen months – he added in his mind. Henry looked relieved and went back to reading, but Viggo was not sure whether his clever son accepted his artificial excuse.

As he got back to his meal, Viggo recalled what Sean said at the hotel; I came here to see you, to talk with you. Until this moment he didn’t even wonder why Sean could visit his hotel or where he got his schedule from. They were the question he should have thought of when Sean appeared there. He cursed himself for not realizing this point, even though he would have never assumed Sean called at his home and spoke with Henry. Yes. He called at my home and spoke with Henry. It was beyond their rule – especially Sean’s. Even during their honey days, Sean never dialled Viggo’s home for his private business.

Viggo scrambled up his salad and egg on the plate till they got all messed up. He didn’t know what Sean wanted to do. Nope. He knew. Sean wanted to make up with him. He said so and Viggo said no, then that was all finished. No need to worry about that. He let out a heavy sigh. The mood of nicely brunch had gone. Henry seemed to be buried in the magazine, it was the only consolation.

Wednesday afternoon
Viggo decided to spend his afternoon working on the undeveloped photos. Developing requires concentration. It seemed a good way to push Sean-affair away from his mind. And he could be alone in the darkroom. He didn’t feel like facing with Henry now. But it didn’t take long time before he regretted his choice. The darkroom was a fucking suitable place to sink in thought. He tried to but couldn’t concentrate on his hands at all. Spilled liquid on the floor and misread the timing of pulling out the prints. He hung in there fighting against the smell of developer and fixer for two hours until he finally ruined a whole roll of film; he skipped fixer.

“Damn shit!” He swore and dashed the flopped stuff into the dustbin. He leaned over on the table and absently gazed up at the hanging yet wet prints above his head. Half of them would not be going to work. He gave a big sigh and sneered at himself. How many times did I sigh since last night? Another sigh was released. Hundred times! He pushed himself away from the table and washed his hands to leave the room. He needed some chocolates, very sweet ones.

When he went out into the hallway, Henry was just coming down the stairs. He carried his favourite bag.
“Dad, I’m going out with Tom to the CD store,” he said to Viggo heading to the front door.
“Take care, be back around seven for dinner,” Viggo paused and added, “could you buy some chocolates?”
“Sure, sweet ones, I knew!” He replied and looked back his farther at the door. “Dad, are you alright?”
This took Viggo by surprised but brought him a kind of happy warmth. “Yes, I’m alright,” he went on, “but thank you.”
Henry shrugged and opened the door. Beautiful fresh winter air breezed into the hallway and rubbed Viggo’s skin softly. There was a smell of sea.
“See you later,” Henry said and left for the town. The door slowly closed by itself. Viggo suddenly felt he was alone. He sighed again. Hundred-one!

In the kitchen he put the kettle on the fire for coffee, and opened the cupboard to get some chocolate. There were plain, strawberry, almond and white chocolate bars. He chose strawberry and almond ones, and noticed there was a nicely box of liqueur chocolate he had never seen before staying away from home. How could he ignore this? He put chocolate bars on the box and took them out together from the shelf. Beautiful smell of rich chocolates was in the air. Now he felt much better. Then he noticed the strong smell of developer arose from himself. He checked his outfits to find some wet stains on here and there, where the liquid spattered when he spilled it on the floor. He brought his feet up to check his soles, but there were dry and clean – he thanked himself for not stepping on the fucking liquid puddle. His body and hair were also smelled. He decided to take a shower. He usually never cared this kind of thing, but not today. He didn’t want the acrid smell bothered his chocolate time. So turned off the fire, he headed to the bathroom.

When he got out of the bathroom he noticed the phone was ringing in the living room. Phone hardly took a priority over other daily matters in his life. Who cared, there was a good answering machine. No sooner heard the ringing than he decided to ignore it, but in the next breath he changed his mind. Could be from Henry. Drying his feet against the terry bath mat he put his robe on yet wet body, and hurried towards the living room, towelling his hair. He didn’t know when the phone started ringing, but before counting sixth call he could snatch up the receiver. Calming down his breath he put the phone against his ear.

“Hello?” Viggo said, but there was no answer. Shit, I banged it when I picked it up? He looked at the receiver and put it back. There was no busy signal. Then the line was alive.
“Hello? Who’s calling?” He pressed the phone against his ear as he could hear it well. This time he heard someone was holding his or her breathing on the other side of the line. Unwanted phone? He frowned and let out a sigh – for fucking sake hundred two! Water dropped off his hair to wet the receiver and his neck around. It was uncomfortable. The room was warm for the heater but he wanted to dry his body and put on his clothes. But just before he tried to hang up it, the person on the phone first spoke.
“Hello, er, it’s me.”
It was Sean.

TBC

*Please do not take and use any images of my artworks and fanfictions without my permission for any purpose, and feel free to ask me about that. I appreciate your understanding.