Sitting in the old leather chair sharing his lunch with Viggo had become 
something of a routine for Orlando. He enjoyed the quiet conversation, the fact
that he could confide in Viggo and know that he would never be judged. 

It had taken quite a while to get to that point. Orlando remembered Viggo’s 
first reluctant venture into the shop … once Maggie had convinced him to come in
he spent his time moving around the shop as if he was looking for something. He
wandered around the shelves lifting his hands to the books, but not letting his
fingers make contact. Orlando wanted to go and speak to him and ask what book he
wanted, but Maggie had held him back with the advice to give Viggo time. He 
didn’t stay long the first day, but appeared at the door the next morning. 
Maggie smiled from the counter and clasped Orlando’s hand as a warning not to 
invade his space.

After he made his slow walk through the shelves, Maggie quietly approached Viggo
and calmly pointed out the second hand book section with the invitation to stay
and read. He wouldn’t make eye contact, but looked in the direction she 
indicated and twitched his lips in what Maggie decided was an attempt at a 
smile. She left him alone to explore and returned to the front desk whispering 
to Orlando that it was going to be all right.

Orlando absently chewed on his sandwich; he had spent a lot of years helping in
his parents’ shop before Viggo appeared, but it seemed wrong now without him. 
The triangle of bread sat on the empty chair beside him … Orlando couldn’t eat 
it. 

Two weeks had passed since Viggo left. Orlando had tried to find him after he
ran out of the shop, but quickly learned that many people, either through 
conscious choice or apathy, didn’t see the people like Viggo. Orlando had given
each homeless person he met a ten dollar note and his phone number with the 
request that they call him if they see Viggo. He knew some of them would spend 
it on drink, but he didn’t begrudge them that.

He had spent most of his wages, even a large chunk of his rent money, but there
had been no phone call.

Initially Orlando had been so angry with Sean, but now he noticed how guilty 
Sean felt and watched him look up every time the doorbell jingled. Sean missed 
Viggo and was worried about him too; he tried very hard not to show it … but it
was obvious to Orlando.

Sean walked to the back of the shop and saw Orlando sitting quietly eating his 
half of the sandwich. He felt his chest tighten at the sight of the uneaten 
sandwich on the otherwise empty chair. As was usual over the past couple of 
weeks Sean resorted to anger and growled, “Get rid of those fucking chairs 
Orlando! I am fed up seeing them here taking up space.”

He turned and walked back to the counter; his hand fumbling with a strip of 
headache tablets in his pocket.

~~*~~

With Marian back in town Sean fell into the familiar routine of dinner at an up
market restaurant followed by drinks and sex at one of their apartments. They 
never spent the entire night together. Both Sean and Marian never wanted to
linger in the bedroom; they usually dressed quickly and said their goodnights.
It was not that they didn’t care about each other, but couldn’t see the point in
complicating a useful relationship. Tonight it was Sean’s place and, as usual,
the dinner was expensive and the sex was efficient, but passionless. 

“You know you have to get out of this area Sean.” Marian grumbled at him shaking
her head as he closed the bathroom door behind him.

Sean rolled his eyes at her and grinned, “I know, it’s too small, too depressing
and parking is a bugger.”

“Well all of those things are true,” Marian continued, “but I am more concerned
with the fact you have vagrants turning up on your doorstep after midnight!”

Sean looked at her blankly, but felt a vague sick feeling starting to creep into
his belly, “What do you mean?”

Marian picked up their empty glasses and started to walk to the kitchen, “While
you were in the bathroom a filthy man turned up bleeding on your doorstep.”

Sean grabbed her arm to stop her, “What happened, where is he?”

Marian looked at Sean curiously, “It’s all right Sean … I told him to leave.”

“What did he say Marian?” Sean asked, fighting to remain calm.

“Not a thing actually. He just stared at me when I opened the door … I asked him
if he needed help, I am not totally heartless, but when he wouldn’t answer I 
told him to leave and shut the door.”

Sean quickly let go of Marian and rushed out the door. His heart was pounding 
heavily as he vaulted the steps two at a time, nearly tumbling over the figure 
sitting huddled at the bottom of the stairwell.

Sean quickly regained his balance, attempted to steady his breathing and 
crouched in front of the still figure, “Viggo?”

When Viggo didn’t respond Sean started to panic; he gently put his hand on the 
down turned head, slid his fingers through the dirty hair and whispered, “Vig, 
please?”

Sean cupped Viggo’s chin with his other hand and carefully raised his face. 
Viggo’s lip was split and blood flowed freely from a cut above his eye. Sean 
gently rubbed his thumb along Viggo’s jaw line watching and waiting anxiously 
while Viggo tried to focus on the face in front of him. 

Relief washed through Sean when he saw recognition flicker into Viggo’s eyes, 
but this was replaced with a mixture of guilt and pain when Viggo mumbled, “I’m
sorry Sean.”

“Oh fuck Viggo, you have nothing to be sorry for … I was a fucking bastard,” 
Sean said just as quietly before he pulled his hands away and stood up, “Come on
mate, let’s get you inside.” Sean looked around for Viggo’s pack, but the only
possession he could see was a single torn sketchbook held white knuckled to 
Viggo’s chest. 

It was clear that Viggo was exhausted from getting to the flat in the first 
place so Sean leaned down, tentatively put his arm around Viggo’s waist and, 
with some effort, was able to get him to his feet. Sean tried to support him as
carefully as he could when they started up the stairs. Viggo grunted slightly at
the pressure of Sean’s arm around his body, but still leaned appreciatively 
against him.

By the time they reached the door Viggo’s face was ashen and his sweat mingled 
with the blood on his face. Sean eased him carefully through the open door and 
onto the nearest chair ignoring the disgusted look on Marian’s face.

“Where are you hurt Viggo?” Sean asked pushing Viggo’s hair off his face, 
relieved that the cut seemed superficial despite the blood flow. He needed to 
check if Viggo was injured anywhere else, but hesitated … the physical contact 
of helping him up the stairs was different; he wanted Viggo to let him know this
was okay. “I need to check if you are hurt, Viggo … can I take your jacket off?”

Viggo didn’t answer; his concentration was centred on keeping his breathing 
steady rather than listening to Sean.

“Vig please … I need to know if this is okay.” 

Perhaps it was the tone of Sean’s voice that broke into Viggo’s consciousness, 
but he started slightly and looked at Sean.

“Come on Vig, I need to see where you’re hurt … I have to take your jacket off.” 

Viggo looked down at the hands clenched around the sketchbook and slowly 
loosened his grip letting Sean take the pad and place it on the table. Sean
carefully pulled the jacket off Viggo’s shoulder and down his arm then repeated
the action on the other side. There was no sign of blood on the torn flannel 
shirt.

Viggo flinched and glanced up when Marian walked over and said with some 
impatience, “Look Sean, I don’t know why he came here, but you don’t need to be
doing this. Stick him in a cab to the hospital, let them deal with him.” 

Sean turned his head and glared at Marian, his teeth ached from the tight grind
of his clenched of his jaw … how could she simply dismiss Viggo like that? He 
turned his attention back to Viggo, but said to her in a deceptively calm voice,
“Go home Marian, this has nothing to do with you.”

She narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth to reply, but quickly closed it 
again. With as much dignity as she could muster, Marian located her handbag and
coat and walked out of the apartment. Sean listened to her leave knowing he 
would apologise later, but right now Viggo needed him … Marian didn’t.

He sighed and focussed his attention on Viggo’s shirt. Several of the buttons 
had been torn off leaving only a couple for Sean to undo exposing the remnants
of a threadbare t-shirt. He glanced up at Viggo’s face to gauge whether or not 
to continue; his expression was difficult to read, but the desperate fear had 
left his eyes. Sean lifted the hem of the t-shirt and swore at the mass of red 
and purple bruises covering Viggo’s midriff, “Shit Viggo, I’m phoning a doctor,
this needs to be checked out.”

Viggo lifted his hand and put it on Sean’s slowly pushing the worn fabric back 
down. “I’m okay,” Viggo mumbled, “just need … need to clean up … please.”

Sean looked at Viggo’s hand covering his, “You really need a doctor Vig.”

“Please Sean?” Viggo whispered tightening his grip.              

Although unconvinced Sean nodded his head and Viggo quickly pulled his hand away
as if embarrassed by the contact. Sean silently got up and went into the 
bathroom.   He turned the taps on full and watched the steady rush of the water
as it began to cover the bottom of the bath; the room was already filling up 
with steam when Sean returned to crouch by Viggo’s side.

“The bath is running if you want to go through.” 

Viggo nodded and took a pained breath before standing up. He gripped the back of
the chair to steady himself and closed his eyes. Sean slowly stood up and gently
placed his palm on Viggo’s back, “It’s okay, I’ll give you a hand.”

It surprised Sean when Viggo gave another small nod, opened his eyes and began 
to walk to the bathroom.

The small room had nearly filled with steam diffusing the harsh light over the 
mirror as Sean leaned over to check the temperature of the water indicating that
it was nearly ready. Viggo began to fumble with the buttons on his shirt cuffs,
but the constant tremor of his hand made the small black button slip out of his
grasp. The more he tried the more distressed he became until Sean’s fingers 
closed softly over his hand. Sean didn’t say anything as he gently moved Viggo’s
hand away and undid the button. He paused briefly at the tiny ‘H’ roughly 
tattooed in the creases of Viggo’s wrist, wanting to ask, but knowing not to. He
undid the other cuff and slid the shirt off laying it on the little wooden 
chair.

Viggo let Sean remove his shirt, but dropped his head as he felt the heat of 
shame creep up his face. He didn’t want Sean to see him like this; too thin, 
dirty and blemished with bruises old and new. Viggo swallowed repeatedly trying
to keep his emotions in check when Sean knelt on the floor and carefully removed
first one boot and then the other. Viggo was forced to grip Sean’s shoulder to 
keep his balance, but quickly let go as soon as the task was completed. It was 
one thing for Sean to touch him, but …

“Um… you need to take off your trousers,” Sean said quietly before he 
straightened and turned to shut off the water flow, “do you want me to leave?”

The thought of Sean seeing him naked horrified Viggo, but he knew he would need
help getting into the bath. He attempted to steady his breathing and with 
gritted teeth set his fingers to work on his fly. This button was larger and he
was able to unfasten it with relative ease; he slid the zipper down and lowered
his trousers wobbling slightly as he stepped out of them.

Sean experienced a mix of anger and regret at the sight of Viggo’s body … it 
could have been a beautiful body under different circumstances.   He quickly 
looked away seeing Viggo’s embarrassment, “It’s okay Vig, come on.” Sean held 
out his hands and supported Viggo while he tentatively stepped into the bath. 

Once in the water Viggo’s resolve left him, he pulled his knees up and turned 
his face away from Sean. He squeezed his eyes shut with the thought, I should 
have stayed in the park … it’s wrong for Sean to have to do this. Sean stood and
watched him for a moment at a loss what to do, he knew he should give Viggo some
privacy, but didn’t want to leave him. He hovered at the edge of the bathroom 
door before making a decision, “I’ll get you something to wear, take your time.”

A barely perceptible nod of the head was the only indication that Viggo had
heard him.

Sean walked to his bedroom where he gathered the same clothes he gave Viggo to 
sleep in last time and some bed linen to make up the couch. While he was tucking
in the last blanket Sean kept playing one thing over and over in his head … he 
came to me, after the way I treated him, he still came to me… Sean was worried
about Viggo, but that same flutter was back in his stomach and he almost itched
to be back in the bathroom with him.

By the time Sean carried the clothes back to the bathroom Viggo had managed to 
lift himself out of the bath and was sitting on its edge wrapped in Sean’s 
favourite bath sheet. He was clean and the cut had finally stopped bleeding. 
Sean left the track pants and t-shirt on the chair, gave an almost shy smile and
left him to dress.

He didn’t venture far from the bathroom and leaned against the wall watching his
hands rub nervously together until Viggo emerged. Viggo was slightly startled by
Sean’s close proximity, but settled when he saw the bed made up for him … he 
needed to sleep.

Sean straightened up quickly, his hand raised to touch Viggo’s arm before 
dropping to his side. He noticed Viggo looking at the make shift bed and shook 
his head, “Oh, um … that’s for me, you can have … um my bed tonight.”  Sean 
blushed slightly at the mention of his bed and mentally kicked himself for 
wording it that way. Viggo looked at him curiously making Sean feel even more 
flustered. He attempted to cover it up with the action of moving into the 
bedroom hoping Viggo would follow, “The bedroom is through here … it’s a warm 
bed, but the heater switch is here if you get cold…” He suddenly ran out of 
words and felt very self-conscious standing so close to Viggo in his bedroom. 
Viggo sensed Sean’s discomfort, but misinterpreted its origin, he lowered his 
face and mumbled, “Thank you.”

Sean nodded and left the room closing the door quietly behind him. He let out a
breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding and grabbed a glass which he 
promptly filled with scotch. He gulped a couple of mouthfuls before rubbing his
fingers wearily over his eyes, what the hell are you doing Bean?

~~*~~

The green glow of the DVD display was the only thing Sean could see when he sat
up, startled out of a troubled sleep.   He didn’t know what had woken him so 
suddenly and found it difficult to orientate himself in the dark of the 
windowless room. He sat on the edge of the couch waiting for the rush of his 
heartbeat to quiet in his ears so he could listen to the sounds of the 
apartment… nothing. He stood up and moved nearer his bedroom door.   When he 
heard no sounds he carefully opened the door. The stream of moonlight through 
the open curtains made the room seem bright in comparison to the living room; 
Sean could easily see Viggo asleep in his bed.  He stood quietly in the door 
watching the rise and fall of the quilt matching the steady sound of breathing.
Sean felt his chest ache as he watched Viggo and finally made the admission to
himself, fucking hell I am in trouble here.

*****