Sean wasn't sure what had pulled him down to the outh Bank that morning. It was a place he enjoyed, and one where famous faces were common enough for the public not to bother about them too much, but there was no real reason to be there.
He wandered aimlessly along the riverside, watching the current flow upstream – something that always fascinated him. There was a hint of new life in the air. The trees had sap running in their veins again even if any buds were not yet obvious, the pigeons were lively and disturbingly amorous, and the slant of sunlight on concrete and water had lifted from the flat sleep of Winter into the hopefulness of Spring.
Not that there was any hope for him.
What was he doing down here? Searching for something, but since he didn’t even know what it was, how would he recognise it once he found it?
Skateboarders rattled and thumped in the half-light beneath the Festival Hall, their speed and poise a marvel to behold. Freedom and flight. Was that what he wanted? Freedom from the heavy weight that held his soul prisoner?
But that weight was Viggo. And how could he continue to live if he lost that?
Something pulled him up and inwards to the Hall’s foyer. A drink at the bar, a wander around the free art show, half an hour listening to a jazz trio. All fine things in themselves, but none of them right.
He remembered a gallery they’d gone to in Wellington. They had threaded around the exhibits both together and apart, coming together to exchange a thought, a reaction, sometimes just to silently inhabit the same space, before parting to weave their own paths once more. Rarely had anything felt so very good as that day.
The emotion of it all was with him still, something that was either a Nirvana-like calmness or overwhelming ecstasy, he’d not been quite sure at the time. Though now he supposed he’d call it love, plain and simple, but also deep and devastating and totally irresistible.
That day had been the turning point. Before then he’d still been coming to terms with how he felt about Viggo, unsure and confused although intrigued and willing to explore what was happening to him. It was too good not to. He had been sure that Viggo knew, that Viggo understood, that Viggo felt the same - a look, a touch, a word spoken or unspoken let him know. They were so close that he’d been terrified to say or do anything that might break the spell.
Then his filming was done and the time had come for him to leave, also time to face up to the truth. That day at the gallery had marked his final acceptance, had made his decision for him.
But that was when it all went so very horribly wrong. Schedules and shifts meant they didn’t see each other again before his flight. The moment was lost, the words unspoken. And flying back later for pick-ups – well, his mind didn’t want to go there, couldn’t cope with what had happened. It hadn’t been difficult to play a doomed man, a dead man. By then he was that already.
The foyer show brought back too many memories and he found himself back outside again, heading towards the book market under Waterloo Bridge. It always reminded him a little of the Rive Gauche and was a place where he generally managed to pick up a copy of something interesting. He laughed ironically at some of the covers – he hardly recognised himself – settling in the end for something dog-eared that might not be a wise buy given his emotional state, but then again, who cared?
Now what to do? Sean had a nagging feeling that he was constantly just missing something, was in the wrong place at the wrong moment, that there was a reason for his being there but he’d forgotten and by the time he remembered it would be too late. He’d got a book to read so he might as well go home and make a start on that. It would be some distraction from the pain.
But there was still the journey home to negotiate first. During that he might as well give in to whatever it was that was happening to him today and indulge in a little self-analysis.
After Rings was finally over and he was home again, he had taken out his feelings and looked at them, tried to work out what the hell had gone on in New Zealand. He guessed it had been the combination of a messy divorce, being half a world away from everyone and everything he knew, the intensity of the project and the strange but wonderful community that had grown up with it. Falling in love with Viggo had been some sort of weird reaction to all that.
But had it? The love hadn’t gone away, despite all that had happened. Even now the simple thought of the man was enough to send his heart racing and mind tumbling. He’d looked at other men, seriously considered whether he should attempt a relationship, but none of them attracted him like Viggo. He felt nothing for any man except Viggo. His life was now one great Viggo-free zone and he was empty, meaningless because of it.
Closure. That was what he should be seeking he supposed, but how to achieve it?
***************
The light flashing on the answering machine showed just one missed call. Listening to the message it was somehow incredible unbelievable surely a dream but also utterly inevitable that the caller should be Viggo.
Hi Sean, s’me, Vig. I’m in town for a few days, just wondered if we could meet up or I could come round or something. Be good to see you, talk, you know… Ring me back if you can.
Sean wasn’t sure how long he’d sat shaking before he finally managed to hit ‘return call’, or whether he’d manage not to be physically sick when he spoke to Viggo. But then another recorded message staved off the nausea a little and he managed to garble something about ‘yes’ and ‘come round’ and ‘just turn up’ before curling up on the chair and rocking himself into a nail-bitten stupor.
The Sean that answered the door, showed Viggo into the house and got him a drink wasn’t Real Life Sean. It was Consummate Professional Sean acting out how Real Life Sean would behave if he wasn’t totally screwed up over the man sitting on the sofa opposite.
‘This is certainly a surprise. What you doing in London Vig?’
‘Been discussing the possibility of me curating an arts festival here next year. Dunno, could be good. Not sure yet.’
‘Arts festival? What sort of stuff?’
‘Oh, multi-media, pretty much whatever I want really, it seems. S’called Meltdown, happens at the South Bank Centre.’
At which point Sean’s façade began to crumble.
‘Shit Vig, stop fucking with me!’
‘Hey man, whad’ya mean?’
‘Christ I’ve been down there all morning, wandering around, thinking… Shit I don’t know what I was thinking. Fuck it Vig, I was thinking about you. All screwed up, feeling like I was forever just missing something important, and then you show up on my doorstep out of the blue and it turns out you were there all the time as well. What the fuck is going on?’
‘Don’t freak out, Sean. We did get pretty close in New Zealand after all, remember? Just tuning in to each other’s vibes again I suppose. It’s good, it’s cool.’
Sean was anything but cool.
‘Pretty close? Remember? How the fuck can I ever forget, Viggo? Do you know how screwed up I still am about what the fuck happened? About what didn’t happen? And don’t tell me you didn’t know what I was going through. You lured me in, played me like one of those damned fish of yours and then bashed me over the head good and hard. Except you didn’t kill me Vig, and I’ve been slowly dying ever since.’
‘Sean, hey man, calm down. You’re not talking straight, I don’t understand you. For Christ’s sake sit down and let’s talk this through, whatever it is.’
‘Whatever it is? Fucking hell Vig you’ve got a damned nerve. What the hell are you doing here in my house anyway? Why aren’t you with him? Fucking his tight arse? Or is he out of town so you have to settle for second best, the also-ran, the failure? Is that what it is Vig? Is that it?’
Sean had forgotten quite how physically strong Viggo was until he was grabbed and wrestled down onto a sofa with little or no hope of escape.
‘Listen Bean and listen good. I have no fucking idea what the hell you are talking about so I suggest you just calm down and start from the beginning, ok? I want straight answers and no pissing about. So – first up. Who’s this he?’
Sean almost spat out his reply.
‘Orlando of course. Don’t give me this shit about not knowing who I mean. Your lover, your boyfriend, your skinny pretty-boy talent-free bit of…’
‘Orlando? Sean, what the fuck…’
‘Don’t you lie to me Mortensen.’
‘I’m not, honestly Sean this is the truth, I never touched Orlando. I wouldn’t if you paid me. He was yours and I respected that even though I hated…’
‘Mine?! Of all the fucking insults! Shit, Viggo how dare you, how fucking dare you throw that one at me…’
Sean struggled to free himself from the physical Viggo that held him down but the fight was as hopeless as the emotional one he’d been waging for so long.
‘Sean. Listen to me, just listen and hold still and don’t say anything unless I ask you to. Ok. First things first. There never has been, never will be anything between me and Orlando. Now – what made you think that there was. Deep breath and speak sensibly.’
‘Because he told me there was. And there was! I saw it! You two were all over each other when I came back!’
‘Shit! The little fucker! I’m going to tear him limb-from-limb next time I see him.’
‘Whad’you mean?’
Viggo released his hold and now replaced Sean in the angry pacing of the room.
‘The little shit told me the same thing. I mean, he told me that he was with you. And he was all over everyone if you remember rightly. The bastard, the little fucker, I’m gonna..’
Realisation hit Sean like a battering ram at the door of his heart. When he spoke his voice shook almost as violently as his body.
‘Are you saying that he told each of us that he was with the other one but all the time he wasn’t with either of us …?’
‘Yep. What the fuck was he doing? Why the hell did he do it? Some kind of sick joke? Probably had no idea…’
Whatever it was that Sean had held pent-up for so long at last gave way, broke its bounds and brought him crashing to his knees.
‘Vig… Vig, you’ve no idea what I’ve gone through… Vig, please – shit this is all too much, can’t…’
Wracked with sobs, crouched now into a foetal position, Sean lay broken upon the floor. Viggo did the only thing he could. Curled up together on the floor, they held each other close through Sean’s own personal meltdown.
*****************
Viggo managed to explore the kitchen far enough to brew up some tea, having left Sean safely on the sofa.
‘Here, this’ll help. Do you good. Wet and warm as you always used to say, though it tastes like piss to me.’
‘Fuck off. There’s nothing wrong with PG. Puts the world to rights. Well, usually…’
‘That sounds a bit more like my old Sean. Foul-mouthed and feisty.’
‘Thanks a bunch. And, well… Thanks Vig.’
‘S’ok. D’you want to talk? Or not yet? Whatever, I’m here. Whenever you need me, I’m here.’
‘Not easy.’
‘I know.’
‘Today has been like going to hell and back. All day all I could think of was you and how much I, well, how screwed up I was about, well, whatever it was that happened in New Zealand. Or didn’t happen. Shit I don’t know what the fuck I’m on about any more.’
‘I think you’re on about us falling in love with each other and not having the brains to admit it and then Orlando pulling some typical puerile stunt and totally fucking us up. Yeah?’
‘Um, since you put it that way, yes. I did fall in love with you and I suppose I never fell out again. Thought about trying something with another bloke but other blokes weren’t you so I never did. Had a few women. Ha! Course I would, I’m Sean Bean after all! But that was all wrong too. Just made me realise all the more that, well, you know…’
‘Shit Sean, I’m so sorry. I really screwed up big time.’
‘What d'you mean? How the hell did you screw up?’
‘I should have said something. I knew that I loved you, wanted you, but I knew as well that you’d never done anything like that before, that I’d be your first. I wanted to give you the time and space to come to terms with what I thought you were feeling before I made a move. All I did was give fucking elf-boy an open goal to attack the pair of us.’
‘I just don’t get it. Why the fuck did he do it? Glad to hear you talking in football metaphors, by the way.’
‘No problem.’
‘Erm… Vig?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Did I hear you right?’
‘Dunno. What did you think you heard?’
‘Erm, did you say that, well, when we were in New Zealand, that, well you felt the same way?’
‘Yeah. What of it?’
‘Oh, nothing… Glad I didn’t imagine it all. Makes all the crap in my brain a bit easier to deal with. I think…’
‘Nothing’s changed Sean. Still love you. Always will.’
‘Don’t make me cry again, you bastard.’
‘Remember what you said? About falling in love but not out of it again? Snap. Bingo. Gooaaal! Whatever you want. Still love you Sean and I’m not going to stop. Whatever bloody Orlando thinks or says or does. Ok?’
‘Shit you are trying to make me cry, aren’t you?’
‘Nah – but I want to know whether I’m going to have a home to come back to at the end of a hard day curating Meltdown next year. It all depends on you, love.’
‘Vig, you don’t have to ask that. Bloody hell is that the only reason you didn’t say yes to them straight off?’
‘Couldn’t be in London for that long if I wasn’t with you as well. It would break me completely.’
‘My home is your home.’
‘I’ll give the organisers a ring. In the morning. Hey Sean, why are you reading The saga of King Harald?’
‘Oh, I picked it up at the book market earlier on. Well, it’s Norse, made me feel a bit, sort of, you know, closer to you. Fucking stupid, I know.’
‘Not as stupid as me.’
‘What you mean?’
‘Here’s what I bought there…’
‘Sharpe’s Sword, Sharpe’s Compay, Sharpe’s Mission… Vig – I saw these today! Laughed at the fucking awful covers. And you bought them?’
‘Made me feel a bit, you know, closer to you…’
‘Know what we are?’
‘What?’
‘Couple of silly sods.’
‘Yeah. Well, you’re not yet, but by the morning Sean, by the morning I’ll have made you melt all over again….’
Summary: Sean has his own personal meltdown
Rated: R
Categories: Actor RPS Pairing: Sean/Viggo
Warnings: NoneChallenges:
Series: NoneChapters: 1 Completed: Yes
Word count: 2713 Read: 829
Published: 02 Aug 2009 Updated: 02 Aug 2009