He followed Viggo out of the kitchen, drink in hand, wishing for a few more, wishing he was drunk, hating that he wasn't. "Why do you always bring him up?" "Because you need to talk to him," Viggo answered, stepping into the living room. "I talk to him every fucking night." And the conversations left him shaking, unable to go to sleep. Sleeping would mean Karl would dream. And all of his dreams were about the one thing he'd never have. "You know what I mean." Viggo turned, fixed him with a patient stare. "You need to talk to him." "And what am I supposed to tell him?" Karl asked, sinking to the sofa. He ran his hands through his hair, noticed they were shaking again. He gazed up at Viggo with tired eyes, wondered when that had started to be a normal thing for him. "That I've been in love with him forever? That I'd crawl through glass for him? That I'd be content merely to be near him, if that's all he wanted from me? Hell, he already knows this. I've told him. He doesn't..." He couldn't bring himself to say the rest. Viggo sat on the coffee table, leaned in, tapping Karl on his knee. "I think you're wrong. I think he does. But, I also think he's having a hard time letting go." "He's never going to let go." And the knowledge ate at him like acid. * * * Orlando had no idea why he even bothered calling Viggo anymore. Old man was like a one-track record. "You two are being ridiculous," Viggo stated, voice tinny through the small speaker, yet still managing to sound commanding, insistent. "You want to be with him, he wants to be with you. This is stupid." "I don't feel that way about him," Orlando said, his protest automatic. "I can't." "Sure you can. You love him." "Of course I do." That was never in any doubt. Orlando would always love Karl...forever. A promise made on a black night -- so long ago, it seemed like another lifetime. A promise of friendship and love, a promise not to leave each other. A promise they'd both broken. A promise Orlando wished daily he'd been able to keep. "He's my best friend." "You love him as a lot more than that." "No, I don't. I love..." But Orlando couldn't even bring himself to say the name. Viggo sighed, the sound defeated. "No, you love a memory. You love the past." "He's not my past." He couldn't be Orlando's past. If he were in Orlando's past, then Orlando would have to face things. His heart was splintered, broken...and he didn't know if it would ever be whole again. "Well, one of them is your past," Viggo argued. "And the other one is your future. You know which way your soul lies." "If I knew that, I'd be with it already," Orlando laughed, even though the situation wasn't amusing at all. But Viggo's next words stopped him cold. "You know, Orlando. You're just not listening." Onto Hollow
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