Day twenty: letters
The little AU: advent calendar: day twenty: letters
slashfairy
G
"I'm going to London."
No, you can't.
Vig puts the phone down and sinks into his chair, the huge old leather library chair that sometimes all three of them end up draped over the arms of, and lets himself go limp. Completely, body and bone, limp. He lets the pain drip out of him onto the floor, lets it seep through the boards and the bluff beneath him to the ocean under the floating shelf that's California, and mingle with the tears of the planet's heart until every drop of it's drained out, and he's completely, totally, bloodlessly, limp.
Then he cries.
~~
Seven hours later, the dogs are kenneled at Helen's, Karl's got someone coming (That friend of Henry's, yeah? He and his boyfriend, needing a place to stay near the family but not with them, I reckon it'll be all right.) to care for the house, and the tickets from LAX to London are paid for. He looks around, satisfied that when they get home (and they will be home, all three, if he's got any say in it) the tree will still be green, and the house comfortable, and the distances shrunk to manageable again among them.
~~
Viggo sleeps. He sleeps in the Jeep, not bothering to turn on the radio, listen to the news, the rants. He sleeps on the commuter. He's awake at LAX, only because he can't hang out in the smoking garden easily- too recognizable right now- and he can't pace, the VIP lounge being too small, but he sleeps on the flight over, and always curled into Karl as much as he can be.
Karl looks at people, at his magazine, at his watch, his cell phone, at the past, at the future, at the wings of the planes taking them closer to Orlando. He watches time shrink and expand with every breath, and hopes Orli's breathing, too.
~~
"Vig? We're in London."
I'm coming, love. I'm coming to find you. I won't lose you, I promise. No matter what, I won't let you leave..
He'd promised. "Thanks, Karl. I love you for this, you know."
"I know. You love him, and I love you, and I love him, and you love me. Four out of six. Here's our cab."
They sit in the back, Viggo curled into Karl, though anyone looking wouldn't see it, but he knows, and Karl does, as they are driven through the streets of London, looking.
Day twenty-one
slashfairy
G
"I'm going to London."
No, you can't.
Vig puts the phone down and sinks into his chair, the huge old leather library chair that sometimes all three of them end up draped over the arms of, and lets himself go limp. Completely, body and bone, limp. He lets the pain drip out of him onto the floor, lets it seep through the boards and the bluff beneath him to the ocean under the floating shelf that's California, and mingle with the tears of the planet's heart until every drop of it's drained out, and he's completely, totally, bloodlessly, limp.
Then he cries.
~~
Seven hours later, the dogs are kenneled at Helen's, Karl's got someone coming (That friend of Henry's, yeah? He and his boyfriend, needing a place to stay near the family but not with them, I reckon it'll be all right.) to care for the house, and the tickets from LAX to London are paid for. He looks around, satisfied that when they get home (and they will be home, all three, if he's got any say in it) the tree will still be green, and the house comfortable, and the distances shrunk to manageable again among them.
~~
Viggo sleeps. He sleeps in the Jeep, not bothering to turn on the radio, listen to the news, the rants. He sleeps on the commuter. He's awake at LAX, only because he can't hang out in the smoking garden easily- too recognizable right now- and he can't pace, the VIP lounge being too small, but he sleeps on the flight over, and always curled into Karl as much as he can be.
Karl looks at people, at his magazine, at his watch, his cell phone, at the past, at the future, at the wings of the planes taking them closer to Orlando. He watches time shrink and expand with every breath, and hopes Orli's breathing, too.
~~
"Vig? We're in London."
I'm coming, love. I'm coming to find you. I won't lose you, I promise. No matter what, I won't let you leave..
He'd promised. "Thanks, Karl. I love you for this, you know."
"I know. You love him, and I love you, and I love him, and you love me. Four out of six. Here's our cab."
They sit in the back, Viggo curled into Karl, though anyone looking wouldn't see it, but he knows, and Karl does, as they are driven through the streets of London, looking.
Day twenty-one