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Summary: Sean just wants Viggo to be happy.

Rated: PG

Categories: Actor RPS Pairing: Sean/Viggo

Warnings: None

Challenges:

Series: None

Chapters: 1 Completed: Yes

Word count: 415 Read: 862

Published: 01 Aug 2009 Updated: 01 Aug 2009

Sean is in Idaho. Viggo doesn't know, and for the first time, Sean wants it to stay that way. Besides, Viggo might not even be in town. It doesn't matter that he's driven by Viggo's ranch three times, or that he's stopped by the tiny art store in Boise where Viggo bought him his first painting. Sean remembers it well. A painting of an Idaho cornfield, identical to the very same one a few days before where they were running and laughing in before they collapsed somewhere to kiss, then made love and watched the sunset together.

Sean has to stop by the roadside because the tears are blurring his vision.

The good memories are easy to recall, the bad ones even more so. The days before the break-up were pregnant with silences, tension, heartache. Viggo's last words to him - "But you can't love someone you don't know anymore," - were almost inaudible as he walked out the door with the potted plant - Bernard - a duffel bag and plane tickets back to LA.

Were they really that different, that distant? Did one entire year pass before Sean realised he'd met up with Viggo only six times?

He doesn't know what Viggo is up to now, although Orli keeps tabs and updates him every now and then with a phone call. He likes to think that Viggo is maybe happier, free from heartbreak. It hurts to think that someone could be happier if you weren't in their life, but it's something Sean wants for Viggo. Right now, it is the only thing Sean can give him.

It doesn't matter that Sean was the happiest he had ever been when Viggo was in close proximity, both of them cackling over some daft joke only they could understand, or debating the merits of English versus South American footie. It doesn't matter now, because he isn't holding Viggo back, and Viggo can maybe find someone who loves him the way he deserves, who doesn't chide him for not screwing the toothpaste cap back on and leaving the remote control in its right place.

Sean starts the car again and wipes his damp eyes with shaking hands. The sun is setting, and maybe tomorrow when Sean heads back to London, he might feel better, and perhaps move the cornfield painting from his bedroom to his attic. It probably won't help in the slightest, but at least it will make it easier for Sean to lie to himself.