Sean blinked, staring at the other man as he leant forward without a single word and kissed him on the edge of the lips as though he were saying 'farewell'. He stared, and wasn't sure what he was doing wrong, and when Viggo knocked back his drink and spoke, soft and unsmiling, Sean felt a blush crawl up his neck--not embarassment but shame. He was ashamed.
The thing was he was trying to be someone else; trying so hard, like he always was to be something he was not, just like he'd tried with Georgina, just like he tried all the time he was with Christian, and Viggo was saying without hesitation that he was waiting for Sean. For Sean, not any of his masks, not for anyone he was pretending to be, and it had been a decade and he just didn't know if he could be himself any more, because nobody ever wanted him like that. Not his wives, not Christian, not the press. Sean Bean was never good enough as just himself, and that was why women left him and it was why he never won any damn awards. He wasn't a Hollywood star, no matter that he was paid like one.
And Viggo wanted him? He didn't know if he could even be himself.
"Viggo." He said it before he knew what was supposed to come afterward, and he felt his legs weaken a little underneath him, suddenly wishing he'd poured himself a drink too. He stared bleakly, and struggled for something more - something honest - to say, and came up short.
The second passed, and he moved to one side, moved around the bar and reached for the edge of his jacket and saw his hand tremble.
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The thing was he was trying to be someone else; trying so hard, like he always was to be something he was not, just like he'd tried with Georgina, just like he tried all the time he was with Christian, and Viggo was saying without hesitation that he was waiting for Sean. For Sean, not any of his masks, not for anyone he was pretending to be, and it had been a decade and he just didn't know if he could be himself any more, because nobody ever wanted him like that. Not his wives, not Christian, not the press. Sean Bean was never good enough as just himself, and that was why women left him and it was why he never won any damn awards. He wasn't a Hollywood star, no matter that he was paid like one.
And Viggo wanted him? He didn't know if he could even be himself.
"Viggo." He said it before he knew what was supposed to come afterward, and he felt his legs weaken a little underneath him, suddenly wishing he'd poured himself a drink too. He stared bleakly, and struggled for something more - something honest - to say, and came up short.
The second passed, and he moved to one side, moved around the bar and reached for the edge of his jacket and saw his hand tremble.
"Don't go."