The echo of his footsteps in the empty rooms emphasizes his loneliness like an obtrusive film soundtrack.

The flat doesn't quite match his wants, is not as spacious and airy as he needs it, but he couldn't stay one day longer in their shared apartment.

Sean had offered him at least one concession - to take his time to look for a new place, but that option would have been unbearable. It would have meant seeing Sean's well-known, beloved face every day, hearing his sonorous, throaty voice, with its full-sounding vowels and sharp, hard consonants.

That wonderful, exciting and soothing voice, often just a little bit out of breath, betraying Sean's temper only restrained superficially, but boiling right beneath the surface.. that voice, so purring-hissing-sexy in the moments of heat..

The lingering memory of Sean's voice vibrates through the bare halls, and Viggo curses his movie-spoilt imagination again for torturing him with such cheap sound-effects.

He lets himself slump down on the chair he just brought in. The rest of his stuff is still outside in the car. Viggo was too tired and sad to argue with Sean over the equitable distribution of material possessions acquired during the last three years.

He packed his books, his paintings, his personal belongings and the most necessary items for the first days in his new apartment, and left everything else for Sean.

The only thing he would have wanted to take with him was lost and spent and wasted forever anyway.

His gaze falls on the wall opposite of him and he can?t believe what he has obviously done right before, absent-minded and lost in thought like mostly in the past few days: The giant poster of Sean hangs at the wall, and yes, it was Viggo himself who put it there, it was the first thing he has done once inside.

Viggo wonders whether he lost his brain und walks a few steps towards the picture, angrily, but stops half-way. He can't bring himself to tear it down, superstitiously he feels he would tear the last hope out of his heart with that.

He stares at the picture with tear-clouded eyes; he can't remove it but doesn't want to have to see it.

He opens the door to the room far enough to block his view of the poster and sinks down on the chair again.

There he sits, quietly, while the dusk falls in.

In the dim twilight Viggo notices that the darkness flickers grittily, as if consisting of various shades of grey.

He sees the reflections of the lights flit over the walls and ceiling, always repeating the same pattern, each time a car passes by outside.

He has no idea how long he has been sitting here, not moving.

'Vig? You in here?'

The strong, full sound of the call, once again just a little breathless, the echo-effect of the empty rooms bringing out the euphonic vocals..

Viggo doesn't react, not out of defiance, not deliberately deciding to behave impolitely - he just needs a moment to realize it?s not his inner tape recorder again.

'Viggo?'

The second he becomes aware it's not his memory fooling him, there's already a Sean-shaped silhouette in the open door - a little bit darker than the rest of the darkness, a black hole in the falling night.

'You forgot something ' I know you can't live without it, so I brought it for you..' Rather lamely trying to joke, he holds up a little package of mate-tea Viggo recognizes more by guessing than anything else.

Sean doesn't mean it, but the unintentional ambiguity of the words stings like cynical mocking.

He can sense that Sean is trying to hide his irritation, but fails and blurts out,
'God, Vig.. it's dark, cold and empty in here? What are you doing? What have you been doing all day?'

'None of your business anymore, Sean,' Viggo answers softly, tonelessly.

'I only want?' begins Sean, but shuts up as Viggo snorts.

'Want what, Sean? ' You want to just keep me hanging on, don't you, Sean?' Viggo leans his head back against the wall and watches the figure in the doorframe from beneath lowered lashes. He knows Sean's body language so well, he can picturel Sean's awkwardness with nothing but a vague form in front of him - just like a talented artist can sketch the essence of a person with a few strokes.

'You told me it's over, and that I have to let go. You generously offered to let me take my time to look for a new place..,' Viggo laughs scornfully, 'but you know very well I can't get over you this way. As I explained to you that I have to move out; we shouldn't meet for a while, until I can deal with the situation and establish some distance from you.. but how am I supposed to do that when you come here the first evening I am alone? You don't want me anymore, but you refuse to set me free?'

'I'm sorry..,' There are both guilt and concern in Sean's voice, but Viggo slowly drifts out of the apathetic stupor that paralyzed him for hours, into the more active currents of rage and frustration.

'I don't want to see you, Sean, nor will I accept anything around me that reminds me of you.'

'Ok, Vig, I'll leave, I'll.. just take this and.. hell, Viggo, where's the switch??' He fumbles in his pocket, a second later his lighter flashes and with two more steps further into the room he looks around to check the walls, before Viggo's protest can stop him.

He doesn't find a switch.

His gaze falls on the big poster hanging at the wall..

Sean shrinks back of himself - flinches in surprise as he sees the giant poster.

He turns to Viggo, the lighter still in his hand, burning.

Viggo has enough experience with lighting effects in movies to know about the fiendish spell of a source of light that illuminates a face from below.
He himself has staged that trick more than once, and Sean, as notorious villains, even more often, of course.

But sometimes you fall for tricks though you know them well.

The licking flame draws Sean's rugged manly features into pale reddish contours.

Green, the crystal-clear green of Sean's eyes, stands out strikingly against the amorphous dark forms of the background.

'You satisfied now, Sean? Did you see what you wanted? - Proof, that I can't get over you, that I'm still pining for you, thinking of nothing else but you? That was what you came for, wasn't it?'

Sean hisses quietly; his thumb was burnt by the flame of the lighter and he lets it die.

'Why do you ask at all when you know it so distinctly, just like you always know better.. all the time... about everything..? Sean spits poison at him.

'Don't you think I can buy a new package of mate tea myself? What a transparent pretext? Couldn't you think of anything more believable to come here and savour the power you still have? Haven't you humiliated me enough? How deep am I supposed to sink? Is it fun to tread on someone who's lying on the floor?'

'Ah, Viggo,' growls Sean. 'That's not the reason I'm here. But do you want to know at all' You don't want to talk, you just want to spill out a heap of reproach on me. So, you can use this picture of me for that. At least it doesn't object to any of your insinuations.'

Sean puts the tea down - astonishingly, because Viggo would have expected him to throw it in a corner - and calmly retreats to the door.

'Sean?' Viggo hates the thin, meek tone in his voice.

Sean stops, craning his head back slightly, but doesn't turn round.

'What is it, Viggo?' As he slowly turns, Sean's eyes seem unimpressed. They don't flare, don't show anything of what's going on inside the man. An unknowing observer would say that nothing's going on with him. However, Viggo knows better.
Perhaps it would help them both if to shout - let their ire break forth, but..

'What is it that Sean's not saying?

'Why are you really here, unless you get off on seeing me like this?' Viggo nods in the direction of the poster. He wants to know. Did Sean truly want to talk?

Sean merely looks at Viggo. Maybe there is something in his eyes. Is it pity? Is it ignorance, thoughtfulness?

'Why did I come, Viggo' I know what you want to hear, but what if I'm only here, because I want to bring you your tea? Maybe I don't want to look at it anymore, because it reminds me of you - and I hate everything that reminds me of you,' he adds, turning Viggo's own words against him.

It's a hard counter-strike; Sean is well aware of that. A little bit complacent, he sees Viggo's posture go limp. Though barely perceptible, it's not hidden to him, since he knows this man so well.

Sean has hurt Viggo and he's very conscious of that, but what can he do, if there is no possibility for reconciling this relationship? If there are no solutions, not now or prospectively, is it really of any use to fight any longer?

The elder man opens his mouth without saying anything and closes it again, swallowing loudly. Sean's words drilled into his heart, hit him like a punch in the stomach. He feels broken, pricked all over, demolished.

Viggo seems to shrink physically before Sean's eyes, as his spirit shrinks further within him. He has been sitting for hours on the tilted-back chair, but suddenly it slips out from under him and he is sliding down the tiled wall and landing on the floor. He nearly bites his tongue as his head hits the floor with a sickening crunch.

He hears Sean's sharp intake of breath and sees the blur of the hand, which shoots out and misses.. just.. catching him.

Viggo feels a wave of nausea sweep over him and he lies there, his head throbbing . It strikes him suddenly that he is literally on the floor now and he laughs bitterly.

Sean is on his knees beside him,

'Christ, Vig !' His voice is shaking with emotion. He puts his hand round the back of Viggo's head to lift it and feels something warm and sticky.

'You're hurt. You're bleeding !'

The irony of Sean's words triggers another harsh laugh from Viggo and this time, he doesn't seem able to stop, the laughter verging on hysteria. Sean is frightened and begins to wonder if Viggo has finally gone over the edge.

Fear makes his voice rough, when he wants to comfort.

'For fuck's sake, man sit up ! We need light . Where's the switch ?'

'Oh, yeah, Sean ! We need to throw some light on all this !'

Viggo's laughter tails off now and turns into a choking sob...

Angry, he turns his head away from Sean, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. He will not cry in front of Sean. He will not.

Exasperated, Sean stands up and locates the light switch. The scene is suddenly thrown into harsh relief by the unshaded light-bulb and Sean gasps, guilt contracting his gut, as if he has been stabbed.

Viggo is lying on the bare floor, turned on his side, his knees drawn up into a foetal position, while the ominous red pool haloing his head spreads.

Viggo lay on his side, unmoving. He felt the blood run out of the wound on his head soaking his hair, making him feel dizzier by the seconds ticking away.

His eyes were shut tightly to keep the pain away. The aching, unbearable pain with the emerald eyes, Viggo just wanted to forget about but found he was incapable of doing so.

The sharp intake of breath reached his ears and he wished to be deaf.

A small choked sound escaped his tightly clenched lips when love fell down on its knees beside him and touched him with warm hands.

Love he could not welcome anymore because it hurt too much.

'Bloody hell, I need to get you to a doctor Vig.'

The deep concerned growl echoed through the empty room and made his head spin even more. Ripping noises filled the room before a soft piece of fabric was wound tightly around Viggo's bloody head. Strong hands pulled him roughly to his feet but he refused to look at Sean.

Vig was half dragged, half carried out of the flat. The cool morning air hit him with forces that send shudders down his spine.

He almost appreciated the warm body holding him close.

The consuming arms surrounding his shoulders to keep him upright.

For a moment he wanted Sean so much that tears started to spill from his eyes again.

Half unconscious with need and the pain nagging at the edges of his soul Viggo finally realised that they were in the car, driving already.

He forced himself to open his eyes and look at the man he hated and loved at the same time.

'Where are we going?'

He wanted to sound strong but his voice was a mere shadow of the man he used to be.

Sean never looked at him. His face was a mask, sculpted with the eye of a poet and crafted by the hands of an angel.

'Home Viggo, we are going home.'

'I have none such thing anymore.. But he didn't say it out loud. Because if he would he cut down the last thin thread his life still hang on?

Viggo turned his face away from Sean and closed his eyes, his head hurting so badly now, that it stopped him from thinking. He welcomed the distraction, the physical pain so much easier to bear.

He felt the blood trickling in a small stream from under his bandage, making him think of Sean's fancy car. The car he was so proud of. Now smudged with Viggo's blood. Good.

He was aware of Sean speaking to someone on his car phone, but he couldn't follow the conversation. It was as if he spoke another language, one Viggo was not familiar with. Sean the polyglot: sure.

The car thumping over something on the road made him feel nauseous again and he was glad when Sean stopped and parked.

'Where are we?'

'I phoned my doctor Vig. He's waiting for us. We really need to get that wound checked.'

He let himself be helped out of the car by Sean, not relying on his trembling legs and spinning head, hating to be weak, but still craving for those strong hands, keeping him up. He couldn't help thinking how Sean had always kept him grounded.

And here he was, wounded because of Sean, hurt because of Sean and still it was Sean trying to heal him. Sean, who didn't love him any more.

He sat on a chair while the young, but competent-looking doctor examined his throbbing skull. He answered his questions almost indifferently, because he felt drained and exhausted.

Refusing sedation, he made it through 12 stitches on his scalp, not even flinching. And then they were back in the car. He gathered the last shreds of pride he had left.

'You can take me back now, Sean. I'll manage...

Green eyes looked straight into his, not faltering.

'Stop it, Vig. I told you we were going home and that's where I am taking you.'

So he rested his head on the car seat again till they were there. Again he was helped out of the car and brought to the apartment and the bedroom. He just allowed Sean to manhandle him, undress him partially and help him into their, no, Sean's bed.

When he felt Sean climbing into the bed too, he just rolled over to his side, facing the wall.
He would not be able to sleep he told himself, while he fell asleep almost immediately, not aware of Sean snuggling up to him, letting his head rest on Viggo's back

It feels as if he were floating. Buoyant. Weightless. And sheltered. A light breeze caresses his back. The gentle motion begins to make him feel dizzy. His discomfort grows when a mild wave of nausea washes over him.

Opening his eyes, Viggo feels a throbbing in his head. And something else...

The faint breeze keeps wafting over his shoulder. He smiles. Sean. Sleeping. Curled against him. The nausea recedes.

He is home.

There's the smell of the light fragrance of the bed linen. The wooden flavour of the oaken furniture. A barely recognisable aroma he can not quite place. And the almost ethereal cinnamon-like scent that is so uniquely Sean.

The tiny, little, and so familiar noises drift towards him. The wind rattling the rainpipe. The rustling of the leaves in the tree in front of their bedroom window. A soft whisper in the back of his mind. And Sean, breathing.

His skin senses the sunshine of an early summer morning. A slight ripple at the fringe of his consciousness. And Sean's warm body, spooning against his.

Slowly, memories begin to drift to the surface of his mind.

Sean, in his most tender voice, confessing to Viggo how much he loves him, forever.

Sean, his voice husky and hoarse with need, whispering in Viggo's ear how much he desires him.

Viggo hears a soft sigh and Sean's heavy erection presses against his back.

More memories...

Sean, terrified and vulnerable, declaring that he can't do this anymore.

Sean, flatly telling him that it's over, and Viggo has to let go.

Desperately clutching at the smell, the sounds, the feeling of home, Viggo sees the image shatter. His heart falls apart. Breaks into a thousand shards. Again.

He flinches. Hard.

"We need to talk, Sean..."

'We need to talk Sean.'

'I know Vig but not right now yeah?' Sean said as he drew Viggo even closer wrapping both arms around him. 'All I can see in my mind is you on the floor and then the blood. You scared the hell out of me Viggo.'

Viggo remained silent, cursing his own body for the reactions it was having from being held so close to his lover. His lover, yeah right, he couldn't say or think that any more, that time was gone. He squeezed his eyes shut trying to resist the overwhelming desire to turn and wrap his arms around Sean.

Sean's hands began to caress his chest, his fingers opening and closing weaving their way through his chest hair driving desire right to Viggo's core. Viggo tried to pull away from what was becoming his own private hell. He craved Sean's touch but his mind screamed at him that this could possibly be the one thing that would finally kill him.

Sean leaned in closer till his lips were touching Viggo's ear and whispered "Please Vig, let me.." as his hand reached down and closed around Viggo?s already hardening shaft.

Viggo fell back into Sean's arms, his body and soul completely lost in his submission to Sean's embrace.

'Yes, yes.' Was all Sean could say as he felt Viggo give in to him. He didn't care if it was a mistake he just needed him so badly right now that it was all he could see. He reached across to the nightstand for what he needed and began to gently enter Viggo with his fingers as his lips traced the line of his neck down and out to his shoulder, his tongue and teeth playing across his skin eliciting moans deep from within Viggo at the assault on his body and mind. His fingers probed deeper and deeper taking no time in finding that sweet spot that he already knew intimately. His finger teased it lightly and then pressed in causing Viggo to buck in his arms and scream his name. It tore at his heart to hear his lover cry out like that; he thought he would never hear that sound again. He pressed on; he wanted to hear it again as much as it would hurt.

Viggo was not surprised at how easily he could be brought to this level of ecstasy by Sean's hands, he had been here many times, but what did surprise him was the matching feeling of despair that he felt at the same time knowing that this would be the last time he would have that. Another groan escaped his throat but this one was full only of heartache as he felt his eyes fill and he turned his head into the pillow trying to stop the flow of tears.

Sean heard the moan as he began to enter him slowly filling him completely. A groan escaped his own throat as he felt himself in that one place that always gave him a feeling of completion, of belonging. He turned Viggo's face to his and said, "give me your lips." They came together with a tenderness born of years of love, of knowing each other intimately. Tasting each other slowly and softly each locking this memory away for another time. Sean's lips turned to enjoying tracing the features of Viggo's face when he felt the wetness of the tears. He pulled back, their eyes locking together. Sean suddenly could see what this was costing Viggo and he felt sickened at his own selfishness and what he was doing to the man he had loved so much for so long. He began to pull away in an attempt to right this wrong but Viggo held him tight and said. 'No, don't stop, if it kills me, don't stop. I want this memory; I need you to give it to me, the last of what we have together.'br />

Sean's forehead dropped to Viggo' shoulder and he felt the weight of the world crushing down on him.

'Please Sean, don't let go.'

Sean's hold of him returned and he could feel the breath that Viggo held release slowly from his chest as he realized that he had not lost him yet.

Sean began again to revel in the pressure of being incased inside Viggo's body. He caressed and held him with every thrust, giving more of himself than ever before, his heart begging for forgiveness for what he was putting Viggo through and now suffering his own agony. Two hearts coming together in a grip of heartache and love that tore at both their souls.

Sean worked on Viggo's cock, matching every thrust with his hand, Viggo's arms reaching back twisting into Sean's hair as he pulled him forward and their teeth and tongues clashed together fiercely then releasing their grip on each other at the same time as their bodies exploded with their release, their moans mingling together as they passed by each others lips and their faces pressed together neither knowing if the tears belonged to them alone or to the other.

Sean woke up a few hours later, blinking at the light coming in from the western windows.

'I must've fallen asleep' he murmured sleepily and turned around to continue his nap. Suddenly his arm brushed lightly over another hand and Sean became aware of soft snoring beside him.

It all came back to him in a flash-the argument, Viggo's bitter and hurt words, how vulnerable he had looked right after his accident and again when he asked him to stay..

'Fuck!' Sean cursed quietly. He should not have let this happen before they had talked. But Viggo had looked so insecure and needy when he had asked him to stay, he couldn't just go and tear himself away from the actual contact they both needed and Viggo asked for.

But still they had to talk about the things that had happened since their break-up. They had to start over, to rebuild their castle . Somehow. But he had no idea how.

He didn't even know if that was what Viggo wanted, too. The wish to have him close, to actually have sex with him, was maybe no more than an old, familiar ritual to Viggo, something he needed to get focused.

After all, that was what Sean had allowed their relationship to degenerate into after they had lived together for almost a year. They had both of them learned to ignore that treacherous mithril vein which twined itself, half seen and acknowledged, through their friendship. Because, for all Sean knew, it might turn out to be quicksilver and poison their interaction, their special connection, for the rest of their lives. Sean had fallen back into his old habit of having affairs again..

First it had been just to prove to himself that he still hadn't lost his hetero-appeal and macho charisma, though living in a gay relationship.

Viggo had never given any outward sign of disagreeing and he had not even seemed to be bothered too much until Sean-rather abruptly and impolitely- had called the relationship over.

Even now Sean's face contorted when he thought of that incident. They had been out for dinner that night. Sean had thought it would be easier to bring up the subject on "neutral territory".

He had looked his friend in the eye for about half a second-Viggo could read him far too well with a single glance- and then murmured, head bowed, his voice oddly raspy to his own ears, his tongue taking ages to form words:

'Viggo, I got to tell you something.. With Georgina.. it's become more serious than I thought it would?'

His voice had trailed off into a stifling silence. Neither of them had moved or spoken. Sean couldn't tell whether half an hour or a millennium had passed before he lifted his eyes and smiled at his friend.

Viggo had smiled back, but even though the skin around his eyes had crinkled slightly which, Sean thought, was a good sign, there was a strange light in those blue eyes, too. Sean attributed it to the light of the lamp overhead being reflected in his friend's eyes.

But it might just as well have been the light of a wizard's staff, glancing off a vein of mithril in the depths of Moria..

Sean sighed again and swung his legs out of bed to answer a call of nature. Once he had returned from the bathroom, he silently contemplated the sleeping man on the bed.

There was some grey in Viggo's hair now but all in all he didn't look like a guy three years short of half a century. Rather, sleep made him look positively fragile, almost innocent.

But fragile was one of the things Viggo was not. He could give as good as he got, if it was necessary and he had a temper as well. It was slow to awaken, coiled like a mighty storm inside this mild-mannered and polite man. Few people even knew how to coax that dragon. Sean, oddly enough, did.

Like a flash in his mind, he heard a female voice say: "You both need each other. To support you, sure, but also to challenge you. Yin and yang. Neither of you is wholly himself without impulses given by the other." Far earlier than he she had realised that whatever items Viggo had forgotten and left in their shared apartment, he had taken Sean's heart with him.

Sean smiled wryly. This observation was oddly wise, for a twenty-seven-year old young woman. Georgina was definitely a force to be reckoned with.

His heart was beating loudly and urgently, like a call to arms. His hand was sweaty as he gently put it on Vig's shoulder.

'That's it. Bean', he thought to himself. What would it be now? What would they be? A phoenix or a dragon?

Quicksilver or Mithril?

'Wake up, Viggo. I think it is time we had a talk.'

Slowly Viggo drifted out of the light sleep he had been in a few moments before. For some reason, he felt dizzy and was not exactly sure where he was. A slight headache and another kind of ache in his abdomen-he had a fairly good guess what the source of that one was- didn't exactly make it the most pleasant awakening of his life, though.

Blinking owlishly in the greyish light of mid-morning, he turned on his side and lay there for a while. He was just trying to figure out why he was in Sean's (he no longer dared to think of it as theirs ) apartment, when he heard the door to the bathroom open and the familiar pattern of Sean's footsteps approach the bed.

He lay utterly still, keeping his breath even and composed, feigning sleep. It was so quiet you could have heard a needle drop. After what seemed to Viggo like an eternity he felt the hesitant, questioning touch of Sean's finger on his shoulder.

'Viggo, I think it is time we had a talk.'

The words felt like a mental slap. 'What was there to talk about?' Viggo wondered idly. It wasn't like he had walked out on Sean, on them, simply because a pretty girl had waved her hips around in front of him once too often!

He was surprised by his own bitterness and tried to swallow the sting as best as he could.

Apparently, he didn't succeed properly, because when he turned around to look at Sean he saw the other flinch and avert his eyes. Despite his earlier thoughts, Viggo immediately felt guilty for that look. He didn't use it very often when he wasn't acting, really.

While he lunged for his pants and idly wondered how fucking lonely he had to have been to want last night to happen in spite of this thing that hung between them like a huge spider's web, he remembered an incident some years ago.

He had met up with Ryo Ishibahi and they had gone to one of the local Japanese restaurants, spending the next few hours with some catching up. Suddenly-Viggo didn't exactly remember when- some kids had started making trouble, so Viggo had raised his eyes and merely looked at one of them. The kid gulped and shut up immediately.

Viggo had turned his attention back to his guest, only to catch Ryo mumbling something about "tatsu no me" and chuckling to himself.

When Viggo had asked him what he meant, Ryo explained:

'The look you gave that kid. You only use it half-consciously when you are very pissed off about something. It is pure, calculated white fire. Like the anger of a celestial dragon in Chinese mythology. They are usually very kind and friendly and it takes a very long time to rouse them.'

'It just seems kind of strange to see a dog with a dragon's fire?' Ryo had finished and had gone back to his beer, leaving Viggo to ponder.

Padding down the stairs to the kitchen, where Sean was already preparing a cup of coffee for himself and a gourd of maté for Viggo by the smell of things, the American bit his lip with regret.

No matter what Sean had done or not done, he deserved better than to be glared away. Viggo entered the kitchen, head bowed and thinking. He made straight for the counter and reached out his hand to grab the gourd, when Sean's fingers brushed against the back of his hand.

Again, the touch was soft, hesitant, questioning. Slowly Viggo raised his eyes and smiled at Sean, which kindled a small answering light in the Brit's eyes.

It pained Viggo beyond belief to think back to three months before now when each morning had been filled with laughter, jokes and far from hesitant touches.

He sat down at the table and waited for Sean to get his coffee and sit down opposite him. The other's posture, shoulders hunched and eyes focused on his coffee, reminded Viggo of the shy politeness Sean exhibited around journalists and fans.

'Sean', Viggo began softly, 'what is there to talk about?' The Brit looked up, startled out of his thoughts, coughed discreetly. Viggo reached out with his hand, fingers slowly creeping along the surface of the table.

Sean seemed lost in his thoughts again. After a minute he cleared his throat again and brushing a strand of hair out of his eyes, began:

'I came back because I could not not come back.' He smiled, ruefully and his green eyes - leaf-green in the light of the morning sun- glinted.

'You see, Vig, you caught me.. somehow and some part of me hated the thought of being...' Sean licked his lips, clearly looking for the right word.. not exclusively a woman's man. The Sheffield lad I was raised to be didn't like the idea of being looked at strangely and being whispered about.'

Viggo nodded his understanding. He himself didn't much care for labels and categories of any kind, least of all the ones concerning his love life. He loved whom he loved and their sex and gender usually were not that big a factor in his decision-making process.

But he had a pretty good idea of what it must have been like for Sean to suddenly have a connection to the words "gay" or "fag".

'So I went ahead and got rid of the person who had made me doubt, question and look at myself. You. I felt a lot freer, more relaxed with Georgina than I had with you. She didn't look behind the stuff I did, she didn't care much about the questions I had. She didn't challenge me to grow '. Another sarcastic grin, that seemed so alien on Sean's face 'At least I thought she didn't.'

He didn't know why, but suddenly Viggo realised how demanding their relationship had been, how much he had simply assumed that Sean was like him, always questioning, always trying to see things in a new light. He wanted to open his mouth and apologise but bit his lip and said nothing.

Some of his thoughts must have registered on his face, because Sean smiled and reached out a hand to give him a reassuring, if brief, pat on the shoulder.

'It is not that I mind you being the way you are and that you wanted to share this with me. Not at all. But sometimes, you are just too intense and the - forgive the lousy metaphor but as you know, I'm not a poet - fire of your enthusiasm just was too much. Could you please try to slow down a little in future?'

He was too occupied with being ashamed at Sean's easy understanding and acceptance of his character quirks to pay much attention to the last sentence and its implications. Besides, there was another question burning at the front of his thoughts.

For a moment Viggo hesitated. Then he raised his eyes, clenched and unclenched his left hand resting beside his plate. Then he opened his mouth and asked:

'How did Georgina challenge you? You said you thought she didn't, which implies she did, so I thought.. ' Viggo mumbled on. He felt very unsure about all of this and Sean' low chuckle didn't help matters.

He looked up and saw Sean smile:

'Well, that girl does not confer to the blond stereotype, not by any stretch. Nah, not her!' Sean smiled and continued 'I thought I hid myself very well but one evening she remarked nonchalantly that I should go back to you.'

Viggo blinked and blurted out: 'So you only came back because she suggested it?!'

Noticing the bitterness in his voice Sean licked his lower lip nervously and then continued:

'No! Please Viggo! I came back because she was right when she said I needed you and wanted to be with you.' Sean hesitated: 'Frankly, I have grown tired of running away from myself.'

A determined look came into Sean's eyes and Viggo regretted all thoughts, feelings and words he had had up to this morning.

Sighing, he smirked and looked at Sean: 'Gods, we are a pair of fools, aren't we?' He saw Sean nod and stand up before coming over to his side of the table.

For a moment Sean stood motionless and Viggo wondered what was passing through his mind. Suddenly Sean sat in his lap and before Viggo knew what was happening to him he felt warm and soft lips against his own.

'Which is why we two were made for one another, don't you think?'

He nodded and smiled as he kissed Sean back. Well, they would see how well they'd manage the dance of life together.

But dance they would, that much was certain.

The End

End notes: "tatsu no me" means "eyes of a dragon", as far as I know.

Viggo's Chinese astrological sign is a dog and dogs are loyal and brave to my limited knowledge, while dragons tend towards the self-righteous and egoistical end :)