Consciousness slowly invaded Viggo’s sleep and along with it came the steady 
thump of a headache. He lay still taking the time to wake up fully before even 
attempting to open his eyes.   Rather than preparing for the usual tension and 
regret of waking, Viggo allowed his body to relax in the warmth of the bed. The
sheets smelled vaguely of Sean. Viggo turn his face slightly into the pillow 
letting his nose rest against the pillowcase and breathed deeply. It was only 
then that he noticed the sound of light snoring. He must have heard it before, 
but it hadn’t registered; he was used to the sound of snoring bodies nearby … 
frequently it was only exhaustion that enabled him to sleep among the noise of 
men’s shelter. He frowned and instantly regretted the action when it pulled on 
the dried cut near his hairline. 

Viggo opened his eyes, the morning light resulting in a bolt of pain shooting to
his already aching head.   He groaned and squinted until his eyes acclimatised 
to the intrusion of daylight. 

The other side of the bed was empty. Viggo carefully stretched his hand out
under the covers and slid it across the bed. Seeing the movement of the quilt 
charting its progress he vaguely wondered which side of the bed Sean slept on …
which was his pillow? He sighed at how ridiculous he was thinking such thoughts,
a man like Sean would never be interested in someone like him.

A snort suddenly interrupted the snoring before settling back into a steady 
rhythm. Viggo realised it was behind him. He carefully pulled his hand back and
braced it against the mattress to turn himself over. Every joint and muscle
complained at the movement, the pain of rolling over momentarily taking his 
breath away … but now he was looking at Sean. 

Sean was asleep in the big wingback armchair in the corner of the room, the 
blanket from the couch draped over one shoulder and down across his knees. One 
leg was tucked under his body and his head tipped to the side resting against an
open palm. Viggo couldn’t help a small smile at the sight of Sean with his mouth
open snoring quite loudly now; he had never seen Sean looking so unguarded. 

Viggo wasn’t sure how long he had been watching Sean sleep when he was startled
by the shrill buzz of the alarm clock. Sean woke with a grunt and almost tipped
the chair as he jumped up and looked around. It took him a few seconds to 
realise what had happened and walk over to the clock. He looked at Viggo and 
grinned sheepishly, “Ah sorry, I forgot to switch that off last night.” 

Viggo felt very self-conscious lying in Sean’s bed looking up at him standing so
close and just mumbled a quick, “It’s okay.” 

Sean silently cursed himself for not waking sooner so he could creep back to the
couch un-noticed; he turned away from Viggo and moved to the window. The morning
was grey, but the light coming in had a harsh edge. He absently raised his arms
above his head, a hand on each elbow, and stretched twisting his head until his
joints cracked, relishing the pull on his muscles. He ached from the night spent
in the chair, but tried to play it down with a shrug, “I am getting too old for
that,” tilting his head towards the wingback. 

Viggo frowned and looked at Sean who now felt the need to explain, “Look … last
night … I was worried, you didn’t seem too … um … ‘together’ and I kept thinking
that I should have called a doctor…” His explanation trailed off, not sure what
to say next. Viggo thought about this for a moment then looked at the chair and
said quietly, “I’m okay now, I’ll get dressed and go.” He made to get out of bed
clenching his jaw so Sean could not see how the simple action sent pain 
rocketing through his ribcage. Sean instantly held out his hand in an action 
reminiscent of someone trying to sooth a frightened animal, but his voice came 
out louder than intended, “No … what I mean is, this time you have to let me 
make you breakfast.” 

Although his movement was stopped by Sean’s action Viggo mumbled, “I don’t 
usually eat breakfast.” 

“Well today you do, you missed out on a good fry up last time.” Sean countered,
not willing to give up. 

Viggo’s stomach rolled at the thought of eating, his head pounding sickly. He 
ran his fingers tentatively over his forehead and said, “Please Sean … just a 
coffee?” 

Sean smiled, nodded and headed into the kitchen. Shit, he thought, stop over
compensating and give him some fucking breathing space Bean. He leaned palms 
down against the bench giving himself a few minutes to gather his thoughts, 
Okay, calm down … make him a drink and maybe he could manage some toast and 
actually talk to the man! With the coffee brewing, his tea in the pot and bread
in the toaster Sean finally felt like he had gained some control over the 
situation. He set up a tray with two cups and plates, napkins, a glass of water
and strip of Aspirin … not for himself for a change. 

While spreading a generous layer of marmalade on the hot toast Sean realised 
that Viggo’s first meal of the day was probably the sandwich he shared with
Orlando and that he had never actually considered what Viggo does when the shop
is closed on Sundays. He knew nothing about Viggo. 

With the tray set up Sean made his way back into the bedroom. When he came 
through the door Viggo pushed himself upright in the bed grimacing until he 
eased back against the bed head. Sean used the edge of the tray to move the 
clock and lamp back to make space on the nightstand for their breakfast. When it
was safely situated he pulled the wingback chair closer to the bed. It was
heavier and took more effort then Sean had anticipated, but he was determined
not to let Viggo see that he struggled with its weight. That done Sean smiled 
briefly before sitting down and taking a large gulp of his tea. 

Up until now Viggo had been sitting quietly watching Sean organise their 
breakfast setting. He looked at the tray and felt a little overwhelmed that Sean
had gone to so much trouble for him. He reached for the Aspirin, hesitated and 
glanced up at Sean as if seeking permission before downing two tablets. He 
closed his eyes for a moment as a wave of nausea followed the pills. Sean saw 
Viggo’s response to the medication and said in a very soft voice, “Try to eat 
something, it will help” 

Viggo picked up a piece of toast and tentatively bit the hard edge, chewing 
slowly and carefully. “You know, maybe you should stay here today, take it 
easy?” Sean suggested staring at his fingers holding his cup a little too 
tightly, “ Orlando is going to be an absolute nightmare when he finds out you’re
back.” 

Still chewing his first bite Viggo smiled at the thought of Orlando pestering 
Sean for details and had to admit the offer sounded good. “Thank you Sean, 
please tell him I’m okay.” 

Sean nodded, but didn’t smile back as he asked, “What happened last night? Who 
did this to you?” 

“Just kids … drunk, looking for an easy target I guess.” Viggo answered with a 
dismissive shrug. 

“Fucking Hell Viggo!” Sean cursed, “How can you treat it like that?” 

Keeping his eyes down, Viggo laid the slice of toast back on the plate and 
picked up his coffee before answering, “It happens.” 

“To you? Has it happened to you before?” Sean asked, leaning forward slightly in
his chair. Viggo just nodded and took sip of coffee. 

Sean couldn’t believe what he was hearing, he felt physically sick that anyone 
could find entertainment in beating someone up. He replaced his cup on the tray
and caught the time on the clock behind it, “Fuck, I gotta go or Orlando will be
up those stairs looking for me. I’ll see you later, okay?” He waited until Viggo
agreed then grabbed some clothes and dashed into the living room to change
before heading down to the shop. 


~~*~~ 
  
Sean was just unlocking the shop door when Orlando walked up beside him. “You’re
running late this morning.” Orlando said stamping his feet against the cold. 
Sean braced him for the onslaught and said without looking around, “Viggo’s 
back.” 

Orlando ’s feet instantly stilled, “When? How do you know? Where is he?” He 
whirled around as if Viggo would magically appear near him. 

Sean rolled his eyes and said, “Inside first, it’s bloody cold.” 

Sean couldn’t help grinning at Orlando who virtually bounced through the door 
and past him to the counter.   “Okay we’re in … tell me!” 

Viggo turned up at my place last night,” Sean paused, unsure how to tell Orlando
what happened, “he had gotten into a bit of trouble Orlando, been in a fight.” 

“No way! Viggo wouldn’t hit anyone.” Orlando stated adamantly. 

Sean shook his head, sighed and explained, “They hit him, but he’s okay, just a
bit bruised and sore” 

“Fucking bastards! Where is he?” Orlando asked pretty sure that Sean hadn’t sent
him away, but needing to be certain. 

“He stayed the night and is upstairs finishing his breakfast.” Sean said in a 
voice that managed to sound a lot calmer than he felt. 

Relieved, Orlando broke into a huge grin, “He came to you Sean!” 

A whole swarm of butterflies suddenly took flight in Sean’s stomach, he turned 
away blushing furiously and grumbled, “Get the register set up Orlando and keep
your mind on the day’s business.” 

Orlando cracked open a roll of coins without even trying to hide his amusement 
at Sean’s embarrassment. 

~~*~~ 

Sean was on the phone to a supplier when he saw Viggo enter the shop. He was 
dressed in his old clothes, the torn shirt just visible under his jacket. 
Although steady on his feet, Sean noticed how pale Viggo was emphasising the 
ugly bruise coming out around his left eye and cheek. He smiled and nodded 
‘hello’ at Viggo who returned the gesture. 

As Viggo started to make his way through the shop Orlando spotted him and with a
shout of “Vig!” dashed over. Mid movement Orlando stopped himself from launching
into a hug, gently stroking his hand down Viggo’s face instead. He whispered 
sadly, “Shit Vig …” but was unable to finish the sentence finding himself 
uncharacteristically lost for words. 

Viggo lifted his hand and placed it over Orlando’s “I’m okay.” 

Orlando knew to leave it at that and said, “I’ll make you some tea to have with
lunch, yeah?” Viggo nodded and smiled at Orlando turning to find his book-marked
novel and sit in his chair. 

Sean had left Viggo alone for most of the day starting to understand his need 
for routine, however, when he went to the back of the shop to retrieve an order
he noticed Viggo had fallen asleep.   Sean quietly crouched beside the chair, 
lifted the paperback and carefully replaced the red bookmark. When Viggo didn’t
stir Sean put his hand gently on Viggo’s arm and said, “Come on Vig, here are my
keys … head upstairs”. He had fished his keys out of his pocket and put them on
Viggo’s open palm. Viggo blinked awake and looked blankly at the keys sitting in
his hand not quite comprehending what was happening. Sean curled Viggo’s fingers
over the keys and stood up with the instruction, “Up stairs Vig, you need to 
rest … I’ll be up after we close.” 

Sean was surprised that Viggo didn’t even try to argue, but took the keys and 
slowly headed out the door. 

~~*~~ 

Sean tested the doorknob before he raised his hand to knock; it was unlocked and
he was pleased Orlando wasn’t around to see how nervous he was entering his own
apartment. The fluttering in his stomach turned to anxiety when he saw that both
the living room and kitchen were empty. Fuck, he thought as he listened 
carefully to the silent apartment, then his eyes travelled to his bedroom, 
bloody idiot Bean, you told him to rest. Sean pushed the door open just a
fraction and peeked around. When he saw that the curtains were drawn and Viggo 
was asleep in the bed he smiled and quietly closed the door. 

The torn sketchbook caught Sean’s eye, it was still sitting on the table where 
he had left it the night before. He sat down on the couch and looked at the 
remnants of the book; the back cover was ripped in half, several of the pages 
were ragged and creased and the spiral binding wire was ripped away from almost
half the book. Viggo had fought hard to keep this, Sean thought as he ran his 
fingers down its edge. He knew it was none of his business; an invasion of 
Viggo’s privacy, but Sean needed to know. He sat in silent conflict for several
long minutes before picking it up. 

He opened it randomly and saw a page filled with images of himself; studies of 
his eyes and hands. The next image was of Sean reading, there was a tranquillity
to the image that Sean barely recognised. There was one of Orlando, he was 
smiling and the eyes looked directly at him. Sean briefly wondered if he had 
posed for this and frowned at a fleeting pang of jealousy. 

His frown deepened when he turned the page. The sketch was of a teenage boy, 
laughing at some unknown joke, Sean didn’t recognise him. There were many more 
pictures of this boy throughout the book, some hurried outlines others 
painstakingly detailed. Sean closed the book and put it back on the table, 
unsure what to make of its contents. 

Feeling a little unsettled by the sketchbook Sean needed to get up and do 
something. He walked purposefully into the kitchen and pulled a large pot out of
the cupboard all the while trying to remember the ingredients of his Gran’s 
favourite soup. Soup therapy, he grinned as he started to dice carrots and drop
them into the simmering chicken stock. 

Within an hour Sean was ladling steaming soup into two bowls; pleased with his 
effort even if he did have to use rice instead of barley. 

Viggo stirred when Sean switched on the bedside lamp, he yawned and mumbled, 
“Sorry Sean, I was just so tired.” 

Sean lifted his bowl off the tray and settled in the chair he looked at Viggo 
and said, “Bloody exhausted more like it, now get some of that soup into you.” 

Viggo shuffled up in the bed, lifted the tray down and took a sip of soup, he 
made an appreciative noise and filled his spoon. Sean smiled and ate his soup 
while chatting about the day’s events in the shop. By the time both bowls were 
empty Sean had managed to convince Viggo to stay the night. 

Sean couldn’t stop grinning as he scrubbed the soup pot. 

~~*~~ 

It was late when Viggo woke up and saw the dark figure moving towards the chair,
he watched Sean starting to settle and said softly, “I’m okay Sean.” 

Sean looked over at the bed, pleased that Viggo couldn’t see the blush rising up
his neck to his face and answered as gruffly as he could, “So you say, but 
indulge me alright?” 

A gentle warmth spread through Viggo’s belly knowing that Sean cared enough to 
spend an uncomfortable night propped up in the armchair … but he couldn’t let 
Sean do it, not for him. His thoughts were still tangled when he finally got the
courage to say as calmly as he could, “Poverty isn’t catching.” 

Sean peered at him through the darkened room and said in a totally incredulous 
voice, “Did you just make a joke? You bloody did, didn’t you?” The chuckle that
followed spread the warmth rapidly through the rest of Viggo’s body and he was 
able to answer quietly, “Well, it is a big bed.” 

Sean hesitated briefly before moving to his side of the bed. He tentatively 
climbed in, desperately trying not to jostle Viggo and settled back against the
pillow allowing his back to slowly straighten out. His mattress had never felt
so good. 

He could sense Viggo lying very still beside him and staring up at the ceiling 
Sean did something he had not done for far too many years; he thought about his
life when he was still Shaun. Suddenly, he needed to talk, “I’ve been poor Vig.” 

His peripheral vision caught the movement of Viggo’s face as it turned towards
him to listen, “I didn’t really understand that we were poor when I was little,
I just knew that sometimes I was hungry and my mam would cry if I said anything.
She died when I was six and we went to live with my Grandparents, my mam’s 
parents. I loved it there with them, but my ‘da’ wasn’t working and they fought
a lot … He took off and left me there.” Sean took a breath, he didn’t know why 
he was spilling all this to Viggo, but now he had started he knew he wanted to 
get it all out, “My life wasn’t bad I not saying that, I loved my Grandparents,
but they struggled and it hurt to see that. I decided then that I wasn’t going 
to live that way … I left it behind, but every fucking day I am terrified of 
going back to that.” Sean’s voice cracked slightly and Viggo leaned over to lay
his hand on Sean’s shoulder, but let it hover inches away before pulling it 
back. 

Sean closed his eyes briefly at the missed touch and then gave a small bitter 
laugh, “I’m sorry Vig, it all sounds like a bloody Catherine Cookson novel.” 

“It’s okay Sean,” Viggo murmured and then added after a pause, “I had money … 
and ‘something’ of a life.” 

They lay in the dark for several minutes, Sean not sure how much to push so he 
just waited for Viggo to continue. When Viggo turned on his side away from Sean
he assumed that was all he was going to be told. Then Viggo said so quietly that
Sean wasn’t sure he had heard correctly, “I have a son.” 

Sean instantly thought of the young man rendered so beautifully in the 
sketchbook. He knew that Viggo was waiting for a response, but didn’t know what
to reply so instead of words Sean rested his hand lightly on Viggo’s shoulder. 

Blood pounded in Viggo’s ears as he voiced those words. He had spent the last 
couple of years burying his past life so deep that it couldn’t hurt him anymore.
If he didn’t talk about it, it didn’t exist.   But his son did exist and he felt
the shame of missing him everyday … so maybe telling Sean would be okay? Sean’s
hand was warm through his t-shirt and the gentle stroking motion of his thumb 
felt safe.   

Sean leaned his face closer to Viggo’s hair and asked softly, “What’s his name?” 

Viggo closed his eyes and took a deep breath, but he couldn’t make himself 
answer. Sean moved closer and slid his arm slowly across Viggo’s chest and 
gently pulled him back until he was leaning against Sean and said, “It’s alright
Vig, you don’t have to say anymore tonight. Try to get some sleep.” 

Viggo didn’t say anything else, but Sean could feel the tension gradually leave
his body. It took Sean a while to drift off to sleep, his final thought was, 
time Vig, please give us some time …


*****