“Come on old man … profits wait for no-one,” Orlando banged on the door with one
hand while fiddling through his bundle of keys with the other. He knew he still
had a key for the apartment, but he had so many keepsakes and ‘found objects’ 
weighing down the key ring finding it was another story.

Sean sat in the chair and looked at the empty bed. The sheets were rumpled and 
one of the corners had been pulled away from the mattress. The evidence of sex 
was clear … but the bed was very empty.

The banging on the door finally penetrated Sean’s thoughts and he could hear 
Orlando’s impatient calls, not today Orlando … please. Sean ran his hand through
his hair, let his head fall back against the chair and exhaled a shaky breath.

Orlando was just about to start on another round of impatient knocks when he 
heard the latch being thrown on the other side of door. Fuck! What’s wrong? …was
the first thought that hit him when he looked at Sean. 

Sean opened the door and instantly turned back into the apartment, Orlando 
followed him anxious to find out what was going on. He glanced around the room 
to see if he could spot Viggo and asked, “Sean? What’s wrong man? Where’s 
Viggo?”

“I fucked up Orlando… literally,” Sean shook his head, gave a small bitter laugh
and flopped down on the couch.

A sense of dread filled Orlando as he sat next to Sean, “What happened?”

“I kissed him ... we made love,” Sean blushed and avoided looking at Orlando, 
this is all too fucking hard.

The wording made love didn’t escape Orlando; neither did the fact that Sean
kissed Viggo whereas he didn’t kiss Orlando once the night they fucked. He put
his hand on Sean’s shoulder and squeezed enough to let him know that it was okay
to continue.

“I don’t know what went wrong … what I did wrong, but he was gone when I woke 
up. Shit, he even left behind the clothes I bought for him … he only took his 
bloody sketchbook,” Sean rolled his eyes and stared at the ceiling, “Maybe I 
pushed him…”

“Maybe you did nothing wrong Sean? He left his things, which could mean he’s 
coming back” Orlando offered trying to sound more hopeful than he actually felt.

“I don’t know why he left, but I doubt very much that he is coming back,” Sean 
said his voice rough and defeated. Orlando didn’t know what else to say so he 
just sat in what he hoped was a companionable silence.

After a few minutes Sean pushed out another heavy breath, rubbed his hand across
his mouth and said abruptly, “Fuck this! I’ll go change and we can get the shop
open.”

~~*~~

Orlando tried very hard to give him space and be patient as Sean spent the 
morning vacillating between obsessive organising and snapping for no particular
reason.

By the time Orlando brought the sandwiches Sean had run out of things to occupy
his mind and was sitting silently at the small table in the kitchen. He gave a
mirthless twitch of his lips as Orlando put the brown paper bag containing his
sandwich in front of him. He looked at the bag, but made no move to open it. 
Orlando sat down quietly at the table and pulled his own sandwich out of its 
bag. He folded back the greaseproof paper and looked at the two triangles, this
was wrong. He sighed and picked one up while saying quietly, “Eat your lunch 
Sean.” Sean gave a disgusted grimace and pushed the bag away. Orlando sat 
silently and chewed on his sandwich, not tasting any of it, until both triangles
were gone. By the last mouthful he felt sick to his stomach.

Eventually Sean broke the silence and groaned, “I can’t believe I fucked up like
that.” 

“Shit Sean,” Orlando exclaimed in an exasperated voice, ”Stop bloody saying
that!”

Sean just lowered his head, closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.
Orlando leaned forward and asked slowly, “Did you force him Sean?”

Sean quickly looked up and glared at Orlando, “Of course I didn’t force him!”

“I know that … but I think you needed to say it out loud,” Orlando countered.

Sean was about to answer, but stopped himself, when did Orlando get so fucking 
smart? Instead he simply gave a small nod. Orlando rubbed his hand over Sean’s 
shoulder and suggested, “How about I go and ask around, yeah? Someone might have
seen him.”

“You couldn’t find him last time,” Sean said softly, “and what makes you think 
he will come back with you anyway?”

Orlando frowned and narrowed his eyes at Sean understanding that that was the 
real reason Sean didn’t want to look for Viggo. He thought carefully for a
moment and then said, “Think about it Sean … it was the middle of the night and
he was frightened and in pain, where did he go? He went to you. Even after what
had happened before, he still turned up on your doorstep.”

Sean could feel the tightness in his chest building up and the heat behind his 
eyes threatening to turn into tears, not gonna happen. He stood up abruptly, 
fished his car keys out of his pocket and growled, “I’m going for a drive.”

Orlando watched his retreating back and called after him, “Try the shelter 
Sean.”

~~*~~

Sean wandered around the dining room of the shelter as they cleared the lunch 
plates from the rows of trestle tables, so many empty plates. The last of the 
men were shuffling out as Sean approached a middle-aged woman stacking plates on
well-worn trolley, “Excuse me.”

She looked at him with vague suspicion before answering, “Yes, what can I do for
you?” 

Sean suddenly felt nervous and fidgeted slightly as he asked if she had seen 
Viggo. She shook her head and said curtly, “Sorry, I don’t know names, best not
to ask.”

“Please, um … he is about my age and height, he has light brown shoulder length
hair … um pale blue eyes,” Sean was starting to feel desperate, she had to have
noticed Viggo, “he has a scar on his top lip … and … and a sketchbook, he always
has his sketchbook with him.”

She smiled briefly at the mention of the book, “I know who you mean, keeps 
himself to himself as much as you can in these places, didn’t ever see him 
talking to anyone. A lot of them are like that,” she paused, squinted slightly 
in thought and then added, “He’s sometimes here at night, but not a regular, 
never here during the day.”

Sean nodded, even though Viggo wasn’t there Sean felt inexplicably relieved that
this person remembered him, “Can I leave my number? In case he comes in … you 
could call me?”

“Listen luv, if you have a problem it may be best to report it to the police,” 
she said still trying to understand what someone like Sean was doing looking for
that man.

“No, no, it’s nothing like that, I’m just worried that’s all,” Sean said 
quickly.

She looked at him for a moment and then said in a sympathetic voice, “These men
can be very good at disappearing when they want to, but try again tonight … or
try over at St Paul’s around eight. We sometimes serve soup from the back of a
station wagon there, although the authorities often move us on because the
locals don’t want the homeless in their neighbourhood.” She gave a disgusted 
shake of her head and then added, “I hope you find him luv.”

Sean thanked her and headed back to his car, I’ll drive around a bit longer … 
just a bit longer.

~~*~~

Sean slammed the drawer of the register closed; he couldn’t get the takings to 
balance tonight. The last customer had left an hour earlier and the door had 
been locked for nearly that long, but neither Sean nor Orlando seemed willing to
leave the shop and go home. Orlando looked at him from the shelf he had already
tidied, sighed and called over to the counter, “I think it’s time we went home
Sean.”

Sean glanced at his watch, another hour until eight, but knew it was past time
to finish up. He closed the ledger and was about to answer Orlando when he heard
the distinctive and annoying ring tone of Orlando’s phone.

Orlando gave Sean an apologetic look as he fished his phone out of his pocket 
and looked at the display; he didn’t recognise the number, but put it to his ear
and said, “Hello?” He paused for a while obviously listening and then added, 
“Yeah, I remember.”

Sean went to walk past him to start turning off the lights when Orlando grabbed
his arm and continued talking into the phone, “When was that? … Yeah, I know 
where that is.” Sean gave him a look, but Orlando simply gripped tighter and 
said in an excited voice, “Listen, thanks man … yeah, look come round to the 
shop sometime … the book shop on Robinson Street, yeah that’s the one, and I’ll
shout you a meal … thanks again man.” He flipped the phone shut and grinned at
Sean, “They didn’t all just spend the ten dollars Sean! Someone spotted Viggo at
the central bus station!”

When Sean didn’t move Orlando gave him a shove and said in an urgent voice, “Go
Sean! I’ll lock up, but make sure you call me … either way, yeah?”

Sean’s fingers trembled around his car keys. He stood and looked at the car
door … shit, what if Viggo refused to come back? Sean leaned his hand on the 
roof and ran this scenario around his head until he slammed his hand down on the
car and walked back to his apartment. He unlocked the front door, but only made
it as far as the couch where he picked up the white bag and jogged back to the 
car.

By the time he had parked at the bus station Sean’s head was thumping and he had
convinced himself that Viggo would be gone. Most of the travellers were leaving
the building heading home after a day’s work as Sean entered the main transit 
area. He looked around the room for any sign of Viggo. Finally his eyes settled
on a figure sitting alone in one of the corners well away from the ticketing 
area.

Viggo sat on the uncomfortable moulded plastic seat, his sketchbook shoved 
inside his jacket and his head resting wearily on his hand. He knew it was 
getting late and the transit police would move him on soon. He felt the row of 
chairs shudder slightly as someone sat down next to him and then a quiet voice 
said, “Hey Vig, where are you going?”

Viggo’s heart slammed in is chest. He didn’t know what to do so he simply opened
his hand and showed Sean the few coins he had been clutching and said in a small
tired voice, “nowhere I guess.” 

Sean leaned forward, forearms on his knees, eyes staring down at his shoes and 
asked, “Why did you leave last night?”

Viggo winced slightly before whispering, “Scared.”

Sean turned quickly at the single word and looked at Viggo, he frowned and 
asked, ”Scared of me?”

Viggo refused to look at him, he gave a barely visible shrug and answered in a 
shaky voice, “Everything.”

Sean had no idea how to take that comment and suddenly felt confused and more 
than a little hurt. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, his 
hand shook as he shoved several notes into Viggo’s palm and said, “You can go 
now if you need to.”

Viggo looked at the money in his hand and slowly closed his fingers around it. 
He looked at Sean and noticed the bag of things Sean had bought for him. He felt
lost as he said, “I don’t know where to go Sean.”

“Then don’t go anywhere,” Sean murmured and looked down, not able to look at the
expression on Viggo’s face, “come back with me Viggo … we can work something 
out.” He rubbed his thumb compulsively across his palm as if trying to relieve a
non-existent itch, watching its movement closely. 

Neither spoke.

Desperation built quickly in Sean until he closed his eyes and whispered, 
“Please Vig.”

He felt movement and then several notes and coins, still hot from being so 
tightly held, fell into his hand. Sean opened his eyes and saw both his and
Viggo’s money. He swallowed hard, hoping like hell he was right in his 
assumption of what this meant. He stood up and when Viggo stood beside him Sean
handed him the bag.


*****