Archive of Our Own ^beta

Wednesday, 9 October

I thought I was in love with him, diary, I really did. I was wrong. Because NOW I'm in love with him. It was infatuation before, I'm sure of it. For nearly two years, I was so sure I was in love. I had no idea. I've never cared so much about another person's well-being in my life. I want to take care of him. I want him to stop working, because he might get hurt. I don't ever want him to hurt, in any way, ever. Whatever it is that's been happening to him in the middle of the night - I want it to stop so badly. I'm so afraid for him. I wish he'd tell me what's going on.

I want to know what he thinks and feels about everything. I want to know everything about him. I want him to be happy. I want him to be happy even if it meant he'd have to leave me. I don't want him to leave me. Ever. I want to be with him for the rest of my life. Moz give me strength.

I wish I could tell him. I wish he could read this. I'll have to burn this page, or at least tear it out and hide it very well. He'd never forgive me if he found it. He can't ever know, he'd never speak to me again, I know it. He'd never allow me to love him, not like this, not really. I know him well enough to know that. I wish he loved me. I wish he COULD love me. I know he cares about me, I know he tries. But love me? I honestly don't think he can, or maybe he doesn't want to, either of the two. But I wish he did. I wish [entry ends]

"Vyvyan, what do you think about?"

The question came out of nowhere. Rick hadn't said much all day, he'd seemed out of sorts, and Vyvyan had been enjoying the silence. Even after they had both wandered back to the room after a long, uneventful day, Rick had been quiet, curling up on his bed and scribbling feverishly into his notebook.

Vyvyan was quite content to ignore him, to sit at the desk and work on a formula for a new potion. He thought he'd come up with either a fertilizer that would double the growth rate of Neil's plants, or an especially powerful explosive. Possibly both. He wasn't willing to try it out yet – there were still too many variables, and he wasn't willing to blow up the whole house over a theory (that would have to wait for the first test) – but he wanted to make sure it worked out all right on paper, and he found himself stuck on one or two points.

Very suddenly, Rick had looked up and opened his mouth for the first time since breakfast, and asked this very out-of-the-blue question.

"What do I think about what?" Vyvyan didn't bother looking up from his work. He knew he should have done this in the lab; fewer distractions.

"I don't know," the whine in his voice increased with every word, "Anything. What are your hopes? What do you dream about? Do you believe in God? What do you think about Parliament?"

"Why all this, all of the sudden?" Vyvyan still hadn't looked up, hadn't turned around to see Rick set his notebook aside and watch him closely.

"It's just…it occurs to me that you know all sorts of things about me – where I grew up, my politics, my plans for the future, what I want out of life-"

"And all this despite never having asked," Vyvyan said, finally setting down his pencil and looking over his shoulder. Rick looked so serious. Vyvyan's stomach tied into a knot – he didn't really want serious today. Or any day, for that matter.

"That's not really the point, is it?"

"What is, then? You see me every bloody day, when I've got something to say, I say it, what else is there?" He'd turned around in his chair now, and his irritation showed, "Besides, it's not true. You know loads about me."

"Nothing personal, nothing from before we met. Don't you want me to know you as well as you know me?"

He didn't, not really. He'd really rather no one knew him – he'd rather not know himself if he could help it, though the insight seemed to gather on its own. He scowled.

"There's not much to tell."

"It's your entire life, Vyvyan, there's got to be something."

There was a long pause. He could already see where this was going, and he didn't like it at all. But if he was going to get any work done tonight, he was going to have to get the poof to shut up, and the most reliable way to do that was to engage him until he got bored. He sighed.

"Like what?"

"Like…like, where were you born?"

Vyvyan considered this for a moment.

"Actually, I haven't the foggiest."

Rick scrunched up his nose, "Be serious, Vyvyan, everybody knows where they were born."

"I don't. It never came up, not that I recall. I've never seen my own birth certificate, and it's not as if I can remember it, so no, I haven't the slightest idea. I'm fairly sure I could narrow it down to Britain, if that helps."

Rick eyed him as though he didn't quite believe him. "Well, where did you grow up?"

Vyvyan closed his eyes and breathed a joyless laugh.

"Everywhere."

"What's that mean?"

Silence again, longer this time. It was foolish to think he could have avoided this forever, Rick was far too inquisitive. Vyvyan was surprised it had taken this long, honestly. Rick was going to pester it out of him eventually, best to just take the plunge and get it over with. He took a deep breath, and he didn't meet Rick's eyes as he spoke.

"I was in foster care. And even before that, we moved around a lot. But…I never had a dad, and when I was eight…probably eight, I think…my mum just…left one day. Never came back."

"Didn't we meet your mum once?"

Vyvyan sighed, "Yes. She's a bartender at the Kebab and Calculator, remember?"

"Oh yes! I'd forgot about that, I wondered why we hadn't been back there since first year. How long had it been since you'd seen her?"

"…That was the first time since."

Rick seemed to need a long time to digest this. It was a while before he spoke up again.

"She just walked out? No explanation, anything? Ever?"

"…Yes. And no."

"Mums can't do that," Rick said in quiet shock, "It's not natural."

"…I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"I'm sorry, Vyvyan. I shouldn't have brought it up."

'No,' he thought, but managed to keep from saying, 'you shouldn't.'

He turned around again, back to his work, away from the prying questions of whinging boyfriends. Rick was silent behind him again, and after a few minutes Vyvyan began to relax. It seemed the conversation had been short after all.

Rick watched the back of Vyvyan's head and thought. His stomach twisted in on itself, a lump rising in his throat. Why had he never considered it? Vyvyan was always so quiet about his life, why had it never occurred to him that it could have been out of shame, or avoidance? What sort of life must he have led? What sort of pain must he have known? His mind raced, trying to imagine it and trying not to all at once. He had a million questions, and he found himself choking each of them back out of protection of Vyvyan's feelings. His eyes welled and the lump in his throat got bigger. He began sniffling.

Vyvyan set his pencil down again after the second sniffle. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath for patience. He turned back around.

"Come on now, don't do that."

"I'm not," Rick said, shakily, between sniffles. A tear ran down his cheek. He looked away and tried to blink the rest back, which only blinked more out of his eyes. His shoulders began to shake.

"Honestly, stop it," Vyvyan wasn't angry, only impatient and somewhat embarrassed. But he really didn't want to have made Rick sad, and he looked at Rick with something as close to empathy as he could muster.

"Okay," Rick said, even more shakily, drawing his knees to his chest. He was turning red with the effort of trying not to cry. Vyvyan went over to him, sat next to him on the bed.

"Look, what's the matter?" he said, and he'd expected an answer somewhere along the lines of, 'Why were you hiding things from me?' or 'You never consider my feelings' or 'I'm a great selfish cunt who only cares about my own problems'.

"I wish you hadn't gone through that," Rick said, quiet and restrained, "I wish I could rewrite time and make it happen to me so it wouldn't have to happen to you."

Vyvyan was floored. That was incredibly selfless of him. Quite possibly the most selfless thing he'd ever heard Rick say. He actually felt bad for expecting the worst of him. He traced a soothing hand up and down Rick's back while collecting his thoughts.

"It's all right, poof, nothing to cry about. It wasn't all that bad, not really. A few years bouncing around a bit, a few more years in a borstal I got myself thrown into, and then off to University on the government's dime. Nothing I couldn't handle. I'm here, after all, and I'm fine, far as I can tell."

Rick glanced at him a few times as he spoke, watching his face for signs of honesty. He found them, and sniffed and swallowed back the rest of his tears. He laughed softly at himself.

"I'm sorry," he wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve, "I'm so stupid."

"Yep," Vyvyan said, giving Rick's shoulder a squeeze, "You sure are."

Rick rolled his eyes, and Vyvyan started to get up, but Rick threw his arms around him and pulled him into a hug. Vyvyan struggled for a moment before giving in.

"It must have been so lonely."

"Nah, stop it poof, seriously, enough. It was a long time ago. Besides, it doesn't matter now," he pulled Rick's head to his chest and squeezed tight, "I've got you."

That was quite possibly the most romantically direct and honest thing Vyvyan had ever said to Rick while awake and sober, and Rick had absolutely no response to it. He just felt his eyes well up again and held him tighter.

"We've got each other," he said finally.

"Yeah, lucky us," Vyvyan said dryly, and Rick couldn't help but laugh.

When Rick woke that morning, Vyvyan was gone. He'd left a note on the desk, 'Secret mission. Back by teatime.' Rick sighed. The missions had got more frequent the past few weeks, and had they not been getting along, Rick would have been nervous. But they'd been getting along so well lately. They hadn't had a fight that wasn't out of boredom in ages. And that entire interaction last night - Vyvyan had revealed so much about himself. He'd even almost admitted to actually liking him. To actually wanting him around. He knew Vyvyan did, of course, but he'd never said so. It had to be a sign things were getting even better than they already were. He decided not to pay the secret mission any further attention. He got dressed and went downstairs to find and harangue Neil for food.

After breakfast, he and Neil sat down for cards. Mike was nowhere to be found, as usual.

"Do you have any threes?"

Neil shook his head, "Go fish."

Rick fished through the pile of cards spread out across the table like a little pond and pulled a card. It was an eight. He sighed.

"Neil, what was your childhood like?"

Neil looked surprised at this question, "I dunno, normal I suppose. Well, normal-ish, most people don't grow up with nannies. Got any eights?"

Rick handed it over reluctantly, "Just how rich are your parents anyway?"

Neil shrugged, "Rich enough. It doesn't do them any good, they're miserable people. The whole family's miserable, it's depressing. I was never happy at home. One of the reasons I became a pagan so readily was its appeal as such a positive, life-affirming religion."

"Do you have any jacks?" Neil handed over two of them and Rick gloated a bit before putting his book of four onto the table, "I didn't know you were a pagan, I always thought you were just exceptionally superstitious or something."

"Well, I'm non-denominational. Choosing a single practice seemed a bit unfair to the others. Hang on Rick, that's not a jack, it's a king."

Rick looked down. Damn, he'd been caught. He grumbled as he pulled the cards back into his hand.

"I don't really know anything about pagan…ism?" He looked inquisitively at Neil and Neil nodded. Rick felt proud of himself for getting it right on the first try, "I gather it's all star-charts and zodiacs and candles and chanting and such?"

"Well, I suppose, but that's not really what drew me to it. It's mostly about nature, and the cycle of life; birth, death, rebirth, over and over throughout history. And the interconnectedness of all living things, all of us bound together in this cycle by powerful forces we can't possibly fully understand. It's really very beautiful. Hang on, whose turn is it?"

"Yours, I think."

"Oh. Have you got any sevens?"

"Go fish. That's really very peace-affirming, are you sure you're not an anarchist?"

Neil thought a moment, "Well, I don't know. I suppose I like the idea of government, somewhat, though it seems to fall apart in practice."

Rick looked confused at this, as if he thought it was a bit of a non-sequitur. He shook his head.

"Do you have any twos?"

"Go fish."

Rick fished through the pile and pulled out a two. He did a little dance in his seat. Then he turned a little more somber as he sorted through his hand.

"But if you're such a peace-and-life-affirming pagan, why were you always trying to kill yourself when I met you?"

Neil put his hand down. He looked like he was considering whether he should answer. He took a breath, and looked away.

"Have you ever had a moment where you felt like your entire life was meaningless? Like nothing you do will ever really matter, and no one will ever really hear anything you say, and when you die nobody will really miss you?"

Rick thought about being seven, crying to his mother that he didn't want to wear a suit to school again and being told in a firm, patient voice that it didn't matter what he wanted, it was what he was going to do. He thought about being ten, locked in a broom cupboard at school by a couple of particularly vicious bullies and left there all weekend because his parents were out of town and his aunt forgot he was supposed to be staying with her. He thought about being fifteen, watching every single person in the school pair off for the summer ball and finally deciding not to go at all after the last available girl turned him down, somewhat rudely, in favor of going by herself. He thought about being eighteen, lying awake in bed and thinking about trying not to think about the way each of his new housemates seemed to care less and less about him every single minute.

He shrugged, "Once or twice, I suppose."

Neil looked him in the eye, "I felt like that every single day for twenty years."

"…Oh," Rick finally said, after a long pause. He paused a bit longer, "…I'm sorry."

He really was, not only for bringing it up, but for all the times he'd probably contributed to it. He liked Neil, really, he was a pretty good friend when you got down to it. He was always there to make food for everybody and do everybody's washing up and clean up after everybody and offer everybody free drugs and talk to everybody whenever they wanted to talk to him. And he was always so nice to everybody, no matter how terrible they were to him. That was a quality Rick admired. Rick couldn't help getting back at people whenever they hurt him, it seemed like it was hardwired into his system. Neil seemed to be ready for forgiveness before anybody had even transgressed. He couldn't really remember why he'd started out not liking Neil. Looking back on it, he thought maybe it was only because the others didn't seem to either, and it made him feel like he had allies if they had a common enemy. And maybe it was because he was so used to disliking everybody, while wanting so desperately for anybody to like him, that it was his default setting whenever he met anybody. He knew Neil wouldn't like him, nobody liked him, what was the point in liking Neil?

He was glad he liked Neil now, and that Neil seemed to like him too. It was good to have friends.

Neil shook his head, "It's all right. I don't anymore. I've got a lot to do now, and I feel like I'm probably making a positive contribution to the world, giving everybody an opportunity to chill out and open their minds with my products. And ever since I started dating Summer and Meadowlark, I feel like I've finally got at least a few people in the world who really care about me."

Rick stared at him.

"What was that last part?"

"Oh, I suppose I never brought it up, but we've been sort-of a loose triad for quite a while now. Haven't you noticed my being home less lately?"

"No," Rick said, making a mental note to try and figure out what a triad was, and in what ways it could be loose, "But…well, it sounds like you're happy. I'm glad for you. Really."

Neil smiled at him, "Thanks Rick. Hey, this game's starting to get a little stale, do you want to play snap instead?"

Rick threw down his own hand, "Ugh, yes! Brilliant idea, Neil. Why don't you shuffle?"

"Sure," Neil collected up the cards and got to shuffling.

Not two minutes later, the front door slammed open and Vyvyan stomped through in an angry cloud. His face was red, and his eyes were dark and shining. Rick jumped up to greet him, oblivious to his current incarnation as a human hurricane.

"Good morning, Vyvyan! You're home early. Do you want to play cards? Neil and I were just having a – what's the matter?" Rick's face fell as Vyvyan stormed past him.

"Shut up, Rick," he muttered through his teeth. He avoided Rick's eyes as he rushed up the stairs and slammed his bedroom door so hard the house shook.

Rick shrugged at Neil, who shrugged back and went back to shuffling cards. Rick followed Vyvyan upstairs. A crash of wood and glass said Vyvyan had just knocked over his bookcase.

"Vyvyan," he called as he approached Vyvyan's door, "what's going on?"

"LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Rick went in anyway. Vyvyan was facing away from the door and he didn't turn around when Rick came in.

"Look, there's something going on and I demand to know what it is."

"Shut up, Rick. Piss off, I'm warning you-"

"You were gone all morning, again, and you still won't tell me where you're going. I have a right to know-"

"Shut UP," Vyvyan balled up his fists and crossed his arms, but kept his back turned. He fidgeted, shifting from foot to foot as if he were restraining himself.

"It's someone else, isn't it?" Rick said, moving closer and getting louder, "You've found some horrid, nasty girl and now she's left you and you're angry you're stuck with me!"

"Just leave it alone, just GO AWAY AND LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Rick's tone went from angry to pleading, "Give me something, Vyvyan! Talk to me! This is me you're talking to, you can tell me anything," he reached out to put a hand on Vyvyan's arm, "When are you going to get it, Vyv? We've got each other now-"

The moment Rick touched him, Vyvyan whirled and punched him in the face, as hard as he could. It occurred to Rick, as he fell into Vyv's dresser and landed hard, seeing white and ears ringing, that in the four years they'd been living and fighting together, Vyvyan had been taking it easy on him. He could tell - he'd never been hit that hard in his life, and he certainly would have remembered a force that strong exploding from Vyvyan's fist. It was more than painful - it was raw and harsh. He could feel the rage in it, the lack of direction and purpose. He'd been afraid of Vyvyan plenty of times before - but never this afraid. In the days before they'd got together, when their fighting was particularly bad, he'd come to understand that Vyvyan was capable of killing him. But right now, Rick felt certain Vyvyan was not only capable, but in great danger of doing so. Rick had never quite realized how much control Vyvyan had over himself at all times, no matter how irritated, how drunk, how tired, how horny, how angry. But right now, for the first time since they'd met, Vyvyan was out of control.

Before Rick could react, Vyvyan had him by the shirt, pulling him close and screaming into his face, shaking him for emphasis, the back of Rick's head banging against the dresser again with every shake.

"I DON'T WANT YOU! I DON'T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT YOU! I DON'T CARE IF I EVER SEE YOU OR TALK TO YOU EVER AGAIN! Always hanging about, following me around, yapping like a fucking puppy, it's bloody fucking irritating! WHY DON'T YOU EVER SHUT YOUR UGLY FUCKING FACE? WHY CAN'T YOU EVER DO AS YOU'RE FUCKING TOLD? ARE YOU THAT FUCKING STUPID? I TOLD YOU TO FUCK OFF, DIDN'T I? DIDN'T I FUCKING TELL YOU, YOU FUCKING DIMWITTED CUNT? Why don't you just fuck off FOREVER? My life was FINE before you fucked it up with your phony caring and your insipid pillow talk and your girly, 'We need each other' bollocks! I do NOT need you, I DON'T NEED ANYBODY AND ESPECIALLY NOT YOU! YOU'RE AN UGLY, STUPID, PRISSY, USELESS TWAT AND I. HATE. YOU!!!"

Vyvyan released Rick violently and crossed the room with his back to him, gripped his bed-frame as though it and his anger were the only things keeping him standing. Rick lay on the floor in shocked silence. He started to cry.

"Fuck off," Vyvyan's voice cracked, and his knuckles got whiter.

"Vyv-" Rick began, but Vyvyan whirled on him again and he flinched, cowering against the wall.

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY ROOM!"

Rick scrambled to his feet and fled, and Vyvyan slammed the door behind him. He kicked his bed into the wall, twice, three times. He slid down the opposite wall and glared across the room. Rick's wails reverberated through the house in a stunningly accurate reflection of the sound Vyvyan's soul would be making if it could. He tipped his head back and stared, unblinkingly, at the ceiling, so the tears in his eyes wouldn't run full down his cheeks.

Rick slammed his door and, still crying, dragged his heavy, overfull suitcase down the hall. Just before he got to the stairs, Vyvyan flung open his door, scowling. When he saw the suitcase, his face softened a bit.

"Rick," he said, with a hint of repentance. Rick ignored him and tried to struggle his suitcase down the stairs. He lost his grip and it rolled, bursting open on the landing. Rick ran after it, gathered a few shirts and his notebook in his arms and headed for the door.

"Where are you going with those?" Vyvyan said, exasperated but significantly calmer, as he followed him down the stairs.

"I don't know!" Rick said, forceful and determined. Vyvyan grabbed his arm before he could get to the entryway.

"You don't have anywhere to go. You'll get lost. You'll starve in the street."

"I DON'T CARE!" Rick tore his arm out of Vyvyan's grip and turned to face him. "You're nothing but a…but a bit of rough, Vyvyan Basterd, and I'm finished slumming it with you. You hear me? FINISHED!! I don't care what happens, anything would be better than living with some…some filthy long-hair-"

"Hey!" said Neil, who was still at the table, playing solitaire.

"And an UNPREDICTABLE, UNLOVABLE, FASCIST BRUTE who can DIE ALONE for all I care!" Rick pointed an accusing finger in Vyvyan's face. Vyvyan caught it, but Rick snatched his hand away, "If you hate me so much, you never should have kissed me in the first place! Always remember that, Vyvyan, YOU started this and I'M ENDING IT! I wish you'd never kissed me at all, this whole relationship has been more trouble than it was bloody worth! You've got your way, Vyvyan, I'm going to leave you ALONE! If you don't ever want to see me again, that's fine, you won't – I'M NEVER COMING BACK!"

He fled out the door before Vyvyan could stop him.

"Rick, you can't just-" Vyvyan reached after him, then leaned into the doorway, defeated. Then his face darkened and he popped his head out the door.

"GO ON THEN! FUCK OFF! HOPE YOU DIE IN A FUCKING ALLEY!" He slammed the front door so hard the house shook. He slammed the entryway door so hard, the glass inlay shattered.

"FUCK!" He kicked in the entryway frame. He tore the banister railing off its posts. Neil fled to the garden before Vyvyan could notice him. Vyvyan upended the curio cabinet.

"FUCK!"

He picked up the sofa and flung it through the front window. He dropped to his knees and pummeled the floor with one hand, screaming swear words into the hardwood and punching harder with each expletive. "FUCK CUNTING MOTHERFUCKING WHOREFUCK BASTARD CUNTFACE-" His knuckles bled. He punched harder and screamed louder, his words melting into incoherence. He dropped his fist and howled at the ceiling.

"FUUUUUUCK!" his voice broke as he collapsed into sobs, curling into a ball on the floor. He didn't care who heard. He didn't care about anything.

Neil stood outside the garden door listening to the unfamiliar and fascinating sound of Vyvyan crying. He'd heard Vyv scream loads of times, and often in pain, but never like this. This was the sort of pain Neil was long acquainted with; he empathized. Its intensity said there had to be a lot more to it than Rick being Rick and running off. Vyv's sobs were occasionally broken by what sounded like, "It's not fair!" and "It's not bloody fucking fair!" and possibly, "No" and "Why?" Whatever had caused this, it apparently wasn't fair, and Neil could understand that. Life, in his estimation, was only fair about .002% of the time, on a good day. Cautiously, he stepped back into the house.

Vyvyan was still on his knees, head buried between his curled arms on the floor, wailing like a child. A surprisingly quiet and civil SPG sat next to him with a paw on his arm. Vyv didn't react to the click of the garden door, nor to Neil approaching him. Neil knelt down next to him and put a cautious, reassuring hand on his back. Vyvyan let him.

Two hours in, and still Rick was nowhere to be found. He'd been by the Collective's headquarters and nobody had heard from him in days. He wasn't at any of his usual haunts, none of his business associates had seen him, none of the neighbors even saw which way he went; it was as if he'd just vanished when he got out the door. Now he found himself wandering aimlessly, hoping a little bit of chaos would stir up something useful.

'Damn it, poof. You went and got yourself lost like I said you would, didn't you?'

Vyvyan sighed, resting against a wall for a moment. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. At all. So the mission had been a complete failure. All right, fine, he could live with that. But in that event, he was supposed to go home, get a couple hours' angry brooding in, and then maybe talk about it a little after some mind-blowingly amazing sex. He was absolutely not supposed to immediately barrel home and chase off the only potential provider of said amazing sex, not to mention the talking.

He'd just been so angry. The sound of Rick's voice had already sliced through his nerves, but Rick's touch had torn away the last shred of self-control he'd been clinging to. It wasn't Rick's fault, he knew that, but he hadn't been able to stop himself. He hadn't been ready for compassion, not yet. Certainly not Rick's brand of mushy, touchy-feely, loving boyfriend bollocks – he could barely stomach that on a daily basis as it was. But in that moment, all he'd wanted to do was scream and fight and punish and destroy. And now he may-well have destroyed something very important to him, something he was coming to need. Something he needed now more than ever.

"Fuck," he muttered, "Mushy, girly nonsense again."

He got going – had to stir up more chaos if he was going to make sense of it and find him.

His legs were getting tired and his lungs were beginning to argue. For not the first time, Vyvyan wished he had driven instead of just charging out the door after him on foot. Too late now, he was at least an hour's walk from home, possibly more, and that was if the streets behaved. He was sure he was still in London, but he barely knew his way around the area. This was the East End, Bertolini's territory - he hadn't been to this part of town in years. The sun had set ten minutes ago, and the temperature was falling fast. It didn't matter; he'd look all night if he had to. Rick was out here somewhere, and he had to find him before the world did first, or he froze to death.

He came around the corner, squinting into the twilight, and his eye caught a figure sitting against a wall across the road. The wind blew dead leaves and a plastic bag up the otherwise empty street. The figure hugged itself and rocked a little. His heart sang in relief, but the scowl stayed firmly on his face.

'Stupid nit,' Vyvyan thought, 'October and you didn't even bring a coat.'

He crossed the street and stood in front of a slightly dirty and disheveled Rick, who was sitting with his arms wrapped around his knees, his shirts and notebook in his lap, staring blankly into traffic. He didn't look up when Vyvyan approached.

"Can't believe it took this long to find you," Vyvyan said, "Do you even know where you are?"

Rick shook his head, expression unchanging.

"You all right?"

Rick nodded.

'You don't look it,' Vyvyan thought. He'd expected Rick to harangue him over not having found him sooner, or whine about how lost and dirty and cold and irritated he was. But he just sat there watching the road, sad and a little traumatized. There was a leaf in his hair. A sizable, deep bruise had developed along the left side of his face - where Vyvyan had hit him. A pit of guilt at the memory of what he'd done and said sank in Vyvyan's stomach. He had to resist holding him out of relief, hitting him for running off, and then going back to holding until his heart slowed down.

He sat down instead, and watched traffic with him. He looked over at Rick's open notebook.

"'S a blank page."

"I lost my biro," Rick said, quietly and a little mournfully. He still didn't look over at Vyvyan.

They watched traffic in silence for a while, tense and awkward. Darkness fell, and the nearby streetlight switched on, covering them in a dim orange.

"I was accosted by old people," Rick said in the same sad tone, "Spat at me. Called me a delinquent."

Vyvyan tried to stifle a laugh with a cough. Rick kicked at the ground and sniffled. Vyvyan sighed, and shifted to face Rick.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I'm really, really sorry. I didn't mean all those things I said. Honestly." He paused, considered a moment, "Actually…I think I might have meant the exact opposite of a lot of it, only I was too angry to say it properly. But you are a prissy twat."

Rick either didn't hear that last part or was ignoring it.

"I didn't mean any of it either, I was angry too." He fidgeted with his hands, looking up at the faded sky. He shivered. "It's cold."

"You should have brought a jacket, twat," Vyvyan said, smiling.

Rick looked at him. He wasn't smiling.

"Do you really hate me?"

Vyvyan looked back. Even in the dim streetlight, he could see Rick's eyes were red and swollen and he wondered if they shared the same sinus headache. He hated crying.

"…Sometimes."

Rick looked back into traffic, then at the ground. He traced shapes in the dirt with his finger.

"…Me too."

Neither of them knew whether he meant Vyvyan, or himself, or perhaps both.

"Do you really think I…being with me…ruined your life?" he didn't look up from the dirt.

Vyvyan thought. "Honestly? I think it may have totally destroyed it. But…I'm starting to think it might be good. For the most part. Destruction is a necessary part of life - nothing in the world would ever grow without it."

He picked out the leaf and preened Rick's mohawk for a moment.

"Don't run off like that," he said sternly, "This is a dangerous area. You wouldn't survive out here on your own." He held on to the leaf and fidgeted with it, looking around to ensure they were still alone, "You're lucky you didn't mouth off to the wrong sort or I'd have been scraping you off the pavement."

"I can take care of myself, Vyvyan, I'm not a child!" Rick protested. Vyvyan gave him a wilting look and held up the leaf.

"I'm sorry, where did you say we were?"

Rick humbled and scowled, "Fine, you're right, I'm sorry." He frowned at Vyvyan, "I can't believe you hit me like that!"

Vyvyan stared at him as if he'd gone insane, and Rick shook his head, "Like you actually meant it, I mean."

"Oh, right," Vyvyan nodded. He looked away again, ashamed, "I'm sorry about that, too. I really am."

He felt terrible about it, actually. He was used to hitting Rick for fun, or flirtation, or foreplay. A little smack here and there, something Rick would have no trouble fighting back over, and often did - and more often started. But hitting him out of rage felt awful. It felt wrong. As it was, he'd chased Rick out of his room because he'd only just taken control of himself again, and he could feel more rage coming on. Had Rick stayed, Vyvyan was sure he was going to hit him again, just as hard. He hadn't been sure if he could keep from beating him senseless - or beating him to death. He didn't ever want to do it again, he didn't ever want to go there again, and deep down he wondered if he ever would. It worried him that he didn't have an answer. He set the worry aside - no use dwelling on it. He had other worries at the moment.

"Do you still want to break up with me?" Vyvyan was surprised that the question even came out of his mouth. He just hadn't been able to stop it - he really did want to know. He really needed to know.

Rick shook his head.

"No. I thought about it for a while…but to be honest, I didn't really consider it seriously for more than a few minutes. Do you?" He looked hopefully at Vyvyan. Vyvyan shook his head.

"I think I'd rather have you around, if it's all the same to you." It surprised both of them that it came out the way it did, so naturally and free of hesitation. So honest.

Rick gave him a tiny smile, "Good."

They lapsed into silence again, staring into the dark, empty street, until Rick looked over at Vyvyan again, and his eyes fell on Vyvyan's hands, draped over his one raised knee.

"Your hand's swollen."

Vyvyan looked at it. His knuckles had scabbed over pretty well already, but his right hand was a bit on the large side. "Oh, yeah. I think I broke a couple fingers. Maybe a knuckle. 'S nothing."

"Where have you really been going all this time?"

The question caught Vyvyan off-guard and he avoided Rick's eyes, turning away from him again. He paused for so long, Rick began to think he wouldn't answer. But eventually, he cleared his throat and began quietly, still not looking at him.

"Do you remember that time Neil told us off because I was in your room instead of coming to the phone?"

"Ugh, yes, how could I forget?"

"Well…the person on the phone for me…it was my mum…my mother. Said she wanted to meet with me. That after we'd ran into each other in the pub like that, she'd started to miss me. Wanted to get to know me."

"What? What did you say? What did you do?" Rick said eagerly. Vyvyan held his wrist with his broken hand to keep from smacking him.

"Just let me tell it, all right?" he said through his teeth.

"Sorry," Rick sat back and locked his lips with his fingers, throwing away the invisible key. Vyvyan pretended he didn't see.

"I thought about it. And after a while…I went."

Vyvyan swings the pub door open. His first few entrances were filled with nervousness bordering on paranoia, but that is ancient history now. He's grown lazy in his defense against affection and allowed the woman into his heart, despite the skepticism still lurking behind the unfamiliar, new-found trust.

The line of regulars at the bar squint into the light streaming from the door.

"Alright, Vyv," one of them calls as he approaches the bar.

"Alright, Harold, how's the wife?"

"Why don't you dig up the bitch and ask her?"

The line of regulars laughs in whoops and wheezes and Vyvyan laughs with them. He looks down at the end of the bar and sees her. She looks up and smiles. She approaches him, arms wide.

"Vyvyan, sweetie! You horrible little shit, you haven't been in here for a week! Get your spotty arse over here and kiss your mum," she demands through her cigarette, raising her arms to reach him over the bar. He leans in and kisses her on the cheek.

"Hello, mum."

"And?" Vyvyan had drifted off and Rick couldn't resist anymore.

"And…I dunno, I kept going. She lives in this flat across the street from the pub, and she'd take breaks and we'd go over there and play canasta and watch telly and such. We started to have a pretty good time."

They've both been laughing for a while now, and the gestures she's making aren't helping.

"And there you are," she manages, curling one arm at her side and swinging the other wildly above her head, "With Mrs. Parkinson's cat in one arm and that sort-of makeshift flail in the other, and the old bitch is howling behind me about how you've been torturing her baby and you-" she doubles over and braces herself on her knees, "You looked at me and you said, 'I had to, mum! If it won't stop shitting in the garden, it's got to pay the toll!'"

Vyvyan can barely breathe, he's laughing so hard. He doesn't remember this anecdote at all, but he would have got along fine with his six-year-old self from the sound of it. He is suddenly intensely, overwhelmingly grateful that she remembers it, that she's telling him, and he shoves the feeling away before it can settle in. He's glad he couldn't stop laughing if he wanted to.

"What's she like?"

He shrugged, "…Like me, I suppose, in some ways. She's not a fan of the pigs, and she doesn't put up with nonsense, and we have some of the same interests. She's got a hamster," he smiled over at Rick, but it vanished quickly.

"It got so we could talk about things. Like she was actually my mum."

He sounded fascinated and amazed, almost reverent, at this revelation. But something in his tone was also cynical, bitter and angry.

"We don't see eye-to-eye on a few things. She doesn't think much of University."

"Are you still in school?"

"I'm in my fourth year - a couple more to go, still."

"I don't know why you're wasting your time on that ivory-tower rubbish," she lights another cigarette, "Let the upper classes have their factory farms for suits and politicians, it isn't worth a tinker's cuss to your man on the street, is it?"

"That's as may be, but I'm going to be a surgeon."

"Oh Vyvyan," she looks genuinely sorry and traces her fingertips down the side of his face, "You won't for long, love. God help you, you were a riot at parties, but you were never very bright."

"She said that?" Rick said, shocked at the concept of a mother disparaging University and calling her son stupid in the same breath.

Vyvyan nodded. "It didn't really bother me, I know nobody thinks I'm worth anything."

"That's not true," Rick nudged his knee into Vyvyan's.

"Shush," Vyvyan shoved Rick's head away playfully, "You don't count, you are nobody."

"Oh, very funny."

Rick ingested everything for a long time. "Why didn't you tell me?" he said at last.

"Dunno," Vyvyan said, "I was embarrassed, I suppose. Didn't want anybody to know."

"…What happened this morning to make you so angry?"

"I'll tell you at home."

Rick grabbed his hand and his tired eyes were lost and pleading, "I want to go home."

Vyvyan reached out and pulled Rick to him, unable to resist the temptation any longer. To his relief, Rick hugged back. They savored it and Vyvyan kissed his cheek. Then he smacked him upside the head only nearly as hard as he could and helped him up to take him home.

"You found him!" Neil said as soon as they walked through the door, "I was getting worried, it's nearly nine o'clock!"

"Why, what happens after nine o'clock?" Rick asked.

Neil stopped and thought. "Nine o'one?" He finally answered. He looked confused at his own answer and walked away to figure it out.

"Where have you two idiots been?" Mike said, cigar in one hand, wad of cash in the other. His feet were up on the kitchen table, next to a considerable pile of more cash, "This money isn't going to launder itself, get over here! Vyv, finish counting and tallying, and then get to drafting. Typewriter's in the cupboard. Rick you…make neater piles."

"All right," the boys said together and sat down dutifully, next to each other. Vyvyan picked up a pen and a blank piece of paper. "What are you up to, Mike?" he said, eyeballing the pile in front of him and trying to make an estimate.

"Fifty."

"Total?"

"Thousand."

Vyvyan put his pen down in astonishment and Mike smirked at him from over his sunglasses.

"Only joking. I've got to a hundred and fifty pounds, that should get you started."

Vyvyan picked up an unsorted handful of bills and started tallying. Rick grabbed a pile and sorted it roughly.

"I don't see why I'm never given anything useful to do." He put the pile down so haphazardly it immediately got messy again, so he picked it back up. "What's the point of being a criminal if I don't even get to participate?"

"Rick," Vyvyan said in the simultaneously irritated and patient tone he reserved especially for occasions when Rick was being particularly Rick-ish, "Last week you said you didn't see why you always had to do all the work and what was the point of being a criminal if you didn't get to slack off."

"That was different! It was a completely different circumstance, Vyvyan, you can't even compare the two!"

"Look, Rick," Mike said, "there isn't anything else I can let you do. When it comes to this particular task, you don't have any reliable skills."

"I do so!"

"Can you work out what amounts of money should be allotted into where?"

Rick deflated somewhat, "…no."

"Can you contact my leads in the financial district to safely distribute the money?"

"…no," Rick deflated quite a bit more, leaning his head into his hand and tossing down the pile of money he was holding with the other, so that some of the bills landed on Vyvyan's paperwork. Vyvyan moved it, smacked Rick's arm out from under his chin and continued working as if nothing had happened.

"Can you forge a signature?"

"Yes!" Rick perked up and knocked another pile over onto Vyvyan's work. This time, Vyvyan smacked him so hard he fell out of his chair and there was a bit of a commotion before the conversation resumed.

"You can not forge a signature, you poncy bastard, I don't believe it," Vyvyan said to Rick after he'd collected himself off the floor.

"I can SO, Vyvyan! I used to forge Daddy's signature all the time. I used to skip out on all sorts of school events and I was an expert in doctor's notes." This was delivered in such an arrogant, bragging tone that Vyvyan cuffed him in the back of the head without looking up from his counting.

"VYVYAN, WOULD YOU STOP THAT?" Rick turned on him and hit back, batting at his arm and head.

Vyvyan sat back in his chair and appraised Rick coolly. "You started it. Poof."

"Am I going to have to separate you two?" Mike said sternly, looking up from his calculator.

"No," the two said in sulky unison.

"Here," Mike said, shoving two papers in front of Rick, "Copy that one."

Rick picked up a pen and started in, eagerly, but very carefully. Vyvyan watched over Rick's shoulder and his expression went from skepticism to surprise. As soon as it was finished, he grabbed the paper out from under Rick's hand and compared it to the original Mike had given him. He tossed both papers back onto the table and sat back in his chair again, crossing his arms and kicking at the ground as if he'd been beaten at a game. Mike picked up both papers and inspected them. He pulled out a small magnifying glass and inspected them closer.

"Wow," he said in as much excitement as Mike ever said anything, "Honestly, Rick, I'm genuinely impressed. All right, you're on piles and signatures."

Rick made a particularly swotty face at Vyvyan, who kicked his chair out from under him.

"Right!" Mike shouted and Rick stood up immediately, "Separate seats! Play footsie on your own time, boys, this money gets sorted or nobody goes to bed tonight!"

Grumbling, the two re-arranged their chairs on opposite sides of the table. They still kicked each other under it occasionally, but they didn't interrupt their work again.

Neither asked where the money came from, as they didn't really want to know and Mike probably wouldn't have told them anyway. Eventually, it was well on its way to becoming a bequeathment from Neil's grandmother, a mysterious scholarship for Vyvyan from a non-existent organization and profits from Mike's dummy corporation (established in Rick's name), and the two could finally go to sleep after what both felt was the longest day of their lives.

They shuffled upstairs, exhausted, and undressed for bed. They crawled in and snuggled under the blanket. Rick traced his fingertips idly across Vyvyan's back and Vyvyan sighed in approval.

"Vyv?" Rick said quietly.

"Unh?" An already half-asleep Vyvyan grunted.

"You were going to tell me what happened."

"Mmm," Vyvyan mumbled, "Too tired." He rolled over onto his back, encircling Rick in his arms. "Tomorrow. G'night, poof."

Rick smiled and snuggled into Vyvyan completely, burying his head into his shoulder and wrapping himself around him, "Sweet dreams, farty-breath."

Vyvyan breathed out a laugh, mostly asleep, "That's stupid."

"You're stupid."

"Go to sleep."

It seemed for a moment that Rick was finished, but then he hugged Vyvyan tighter and hummed contentedly.

"Mmmm, you're so much warmer than me. I'm still cold from earlier."

"Shut up, prick. Shouldn't have left." This was barely discernible, and had Rick not spent the past two years listening to Vyvyan's sleep talk nightly, he wouldn't have understood it at all. Rick didn't really have anything else to say, and he started to doze off.

"Rick?" Vyvyan said suddenly in his Eerie sleep voice. It startled Rick awake.

"What?"

"Don't leave. Promise."

Rick was stunned quiet for a moment.

"Well, of course I won't leave. Why would I leave? It's my bedroom!"

"Promise!" this was more than a little menacing, but he didn't move, so Rick didn't either.

"I promise, Vyvyan. I won't leave."

"Everybody leaves," he said, so matter-of-factly that Rick's heart nearly broke in two.

"I won't. Not ever, I promise. Who else is there?"

But the brief window into Vyvyan's psyche had closed and he was dead to the world. Rick sighed and found his best guesses were depressing enough to keep him awake a while longer.

Rick woke to find he was still curled into Vyvyan's shoulder. The sun warmed his back lazily through the morning chill in the room. Vyvyan was stroking his fingers along Rick's side with one arm, as he rested his head on the other and watched the ceiling. It was gentle and comforting and Rick wanted nothing better than to stay quiet and stretch the moment out as long as possible. He knew, however, that Vyvyan would stop if he started talking to him, especially about something serious. And he had a feeling the answer to his question about yesterday's events would be something very serious indeed. Still, he had to ask. He needed to know what had happened.

"Morning," he said, clearing the sleep out of his voice-box.

"Morning," Vyvyan said idly.

"How long have you been awake?"

Vyvyan shrugged. Rick worried he'd been up for a long time.

Vyvyan had been having trouble sleeping. It had been going on for nearly a year now, though he'd been trying to pretend like nothing was wrong. Every once in a while, maybe once two or three times a month, Rick would wake up in the middle of the night and Vyvyan would just be lying there, wide awake and looking worried. Incredibly worried. So worried he was shaking. He wouldn't even acknowledge it was happening at first, he'd just grunt, "Go back to sleep, poof," in a tight, strained voice, and turn away from him. But eventually he'd started letting Rick comfort him, as long as he didn't say anything and didn't acknowledge anything Vyvyan did - those were the rules of engagement, any deviation resulted in Vyvyan pulling away and ignoring him until Rick fell asleep again.

He even started giving Rick instructions on how to comfort him, gruffly given commands spoken in short, halting sentences, that were to be followed without question or comment. (The one Rick found hardest to follow was, "There will be tears. Pretend they aren't there." Partially because it broke his heart that they were there at all, and partially because Vyvyan seemed so detached from them. He wanted to know what was happening, why it was happening, so badly, but he knew he asking would only lead to Vyvyan not allowing him to comfort him.) Rick had no idea what was actually going on, he only knew if he followed the ritual Vyvyan had taught him, he'd eventually stop shaking and start breathing normally again and fall asleep. He hoped Vyvyan had slept more than a couple of hours last night. He wished he'd been awake to help him.

"So," he ventured, "About yesterday…"

"Mmm," Vyvyan said, quietly.

"Do…you want to tell me?" he said carefully, tracing a finger around the tattoo on Vyvyan's chest.

Vyvyan sighed, "Not really. But I probably should." He glanced down at Rick, "You can't interrupt me. Not even once, or I'll stop forever and you'll never know."

"Quiet as dormice, I promise," Rick said earnestly, entirely unsure he could comply.

Vyvyan grunted; he had less confidence in Rick's ability to keep quiet than Rick did.

"…I told her about us yesterday."

"How's school?" she says, looking in the fridge for far longer than necessary.

He's glad she pretends to care. He sits in the easy chair next to the telly and fidgets with the fern sitting on it.

"Fine, fine…I see the new bloke behind the bar seems to be working out."

"Yes."

He watches her. She finds two bottles and pulls out glasses. The atmosphere in the room feels strange and awkward, more like it had the first few times they'd tried to find common ground.

"You're thinking about something," she says finally, handing him his glass of Babycham, "So tell me."

She sits down on the sofa and smiles at him, scrunches up her nose. 'There's nothing you can't tell me,' her smile lies, 'We're family again.'

"You know I've mentioned that I've… met someone." He stares into his glass and begs it to give him the words.

"I know, you've mentioned it in passing. I wish you'd tell me more about her! Augh, I can just imagine what color her hair is! How many piercings does she have, then?"

He sighs. He can do this. She's a woman of the world, she knows which way is up. So she's a working-class woman, that doesn't mean anything. She's a bartender, they see everything, they hear everything. And how'd he come to accept himself if he came from people who wouldn't?

"Mum…I think I might be in love. And I think I need your advice. I've never been in love before, and things are getting really serious and I think…I might be a bit scared."

"Oh sweetie, that's natural. First love is always a little scary."

"There's something I have to tell you, mum."

"Anything," she looks excited to help. She's actually having fun. He hates to disappoint her.

This is it. He stares harder into his drink than ever. He downs it and takes a deep breath. He forces the words out.

"This person I'm in love with…it's a boy. A man I guess, a bloke my age. One of my housemates."

He is met with silence, and he glances up briefly, "Don't get me wrong, I like girls, they're great!" he grins nervously for a nanosecond and reverts to glowering, looking back down at his glass, "But I um, I'm – I like guys too, and this person is someone… I've known for a long time. I think he might be…I think I'm in love with my best friend. And I think he feels the same."

More silence. He looks up and finds his mother's smile plastered on her face, but having left her eyes.

"You're joking," she says, her voice shaking just a little.

Vyvyan shakes his head, "I'm sorry, I know it might be shocking. It was just as likely to be a girl, but it turns out it wasn't."

His mother isn't smiling anymore. "Just as likely to –Vyvyan, what would give you the impression that I want to know this?" She sets her glass down forcefully and glares at him. He avoids her eyes and shrugs. She paces the room for a few moments and holds her hand to her temple.

"You're my mother, you're supposed to help me when I need you. You're supposed to understand."

"Understand! Help you- I don't know that I have anything to offer, Vyvyan, other than…embarrassment and disgust."

"You said you were glad we were family again," Vyvyan says, pouting like a child and turning his empty glass over in his hands, "You said you were glad we could talk about things. That I could tell you anything."

"I might have recanted if I'd known you were going to tell me something like that. What would possess you to do that, Vyvyan? We were just getting to know each other! Damn it, I was just starting to like you! To just sit there easy as you please and talk like that after everything I've done to make you feel comfortable. For fuck's sake, Vyvyan, lie to me if you have to. Anything other than, 'Hallo mum, haven't seen you in a while, forgot to mention, but I'm a poofter and I'd like to have a chat about it!'"

"I'm not a poofter!" Vyvyan says, looking up at her with fierce eyes, "I'm…open." He looks away, suddenly embarrassed and ashamed, and he hates that she can make him feel this way, that he's allowed her to. His ears burn.

His mother laughs joylessly and shakes her head, "Pity," she says, mostly to herself, "All this time, and the boy's a fucking shirtlifter."

He responds with a sneer.

"All this time? Everything you've done? Funny, isn't it, how quickly you can switch off the 'loving mummy' bollocks when there's something about me you don't like."

"Don't you bloody talk to me like that, you little bastard!" She pauses, attempts to compose herself. She's not doing a good job of it. "We're practically strangers, Vyvyan-"

"Whose fault is that, Marjorie? You vanish before I'm old enough to bloody drive, I go through the trouble of coming in here day after day, after you ask me to, and suddenly you're the one who's been put out? Six years in foster care, the rest in a fucking borstal, how's that for put out?"

It's the first time either of them has dared to bring it up directly. He's not sorry.

"Get out."

Vyvyan looks at her in disbelief, "Now you're joking."

"I've never been more serious in my life, get out of my house!"

Vyvyan is on his feet and the hand that isn't gesturing is a fist, "No, you're fucking joking. Because if I walk out that door now, I don't come back, you understand you stupid, selfish cunt? You fucked up once and I let you, I bloody let you, back into my life. If I leave now, this ends. Forever. IF I WALK OUT THAT DOOR, YOU HAVE NO SON!"

"I never wanted a fucking son," she says bitterly, lighting a cigarette. She stares coldly at the wall, an unfamiliar expression on her face. She's a completely different woman, "A bloody parasite that grew legs and learnt to walk and be more trouble than he was bloody worth."

All of the fire leaves Vyvyan's eyes and his face shifts from rage to a mixture of disgust and defeat. He gazes at his shoes. "Mum," he says weakly, and he doesn't know if he believes in the word anymore.

"Get out! Get out, you bloody pervert, don't come back! You'll just be 'round for money eventually and I'm short as it is. Bugger off, I can't be bothered."

She turns away from him and takes a long drag from her cigarette. "I don't want to see you back at the pub, either. You or your skuzzy little friends. I'll be telling security."

Vyvyan leaves without another word. What is there to say to a dead woman?

"I don't know why I did it. It was a bloody stupid thing to do. I suppose I was testing her. She'd said we could talk about anything, and I thought, 'Why not talk about something important for once? What are mums for if not to talk to about your life and understand?' But she didn't…take it well. Called me a shirtlifter, actually. So I told her off and she told me to get out, so I did. I'm not ever going back. …I got to have a mum for a while. I don't anymore."

"Oh, Vyvyan I'm so sorry! It's all my fault!" Rick said, unable to resist any longer. Vyvyan forgave the transgression – he didn't have anything else to say on the subject anyway.

"No it isn't, don't be stupid."

"But it is!" Rick perched on his elbow as his voice gained more shriek, "If you had never met me you never would have – what's funny?" his tone changed dramatically as Vyvyan wheezed out a chuckle.

"Rick, do you honestly think you're so fucking special that if I'd never met you, I'd never find anybody else? In the whole world? Fuck, even in the greater London area?" He kept laughing as sat up, laughed harder as he got up and pulled his jeans on.

"It's not that funny," Rick grumbled, pouting, "I don't want to think about never having met you anyway."

He curled into the empty space where Vyvyan had been until Vyvyan shoved him out of the way so he could sit down. Then he squirreled around until his feet were up on the bed frame by their pillow and his head was resting comfortably on Vyvyan's lap. He looked up at Vyvyan expectantly with a perky expression Vyvyan would have found worth either a smack or a kiss, or both, had he been looking at Rick. But Vyvyan looked off into the distance, past the window, and draped his arm across Rick's chest. He wasn't laughing anymore.

"She never wanted me. Not ever. I think I knew it all along, but it was nice to pretend for a while. Like a guilty pleasure. Fairly sure she was scamming me; waiting around for me to become a doctor so she could leach off me forever. I don't think she realized how much I'm making already - I never told her about The Business. But it turns out shirtlifters aren't even worth stealing from, so fuck her. I'm better off."

He twined his fingers with Rick's and squeezed his hand reassuringly, "It's her fault, and mine. Not yours. I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I'm a fucking idiot."

"You're not," Rick said, sitting up properly and wrapping his arms around him, "You only wanted a mother. I'd give anything to see my mother again."

Vyvyan studied him closely, tracing a finger idly down the edge of his mohawk, "Do you know, I think that's the first time I've ever heard you talk about your parents like they're not here anymore?"

Rick looked away and got quiet. He hugged his knees to his chest.

"It's getting easier to think about."

He was quiet for a long time, and Vyvyan regretted having said anything.

"Vyvyan what…what sort of a person do you have to be not to feel sad right away after your parents die? To not even miss them at first?"

Vyvyan watched him again. He looked like the slightest breeze would knock him over. He'd often seen Rick cry; he'd never seen him like this, like he was so sad he couldn't. It hurt to look at him.

"I think…I'd been waiting for them to die. So I could collect. Like a spoiled little rich boy in a kid's comic. A cartoon villain. Is that really all I am?" The pain was clear in his eyes.

"Shut up, poof," Vyvyan grabbed him and dragged him down onto the bed with him, wrapping every available limb around him on the way, "You're talking nonsense."

"I'm a monster," he said quietly into Vyvyan's chest, nearly to himself, "A horrible, selfish monster. I don't know how you can stand me-"

Vyvyan kissed him quiet. When he pulled back, Rick watched his eyes and to his shock, for only a few moments, Vyvyan allowed him to see what he was really feeling. He smiled slightly, his eyes singing with deep affection, longing, reassurance, need. They searched Rick's eyes, pleading for something Rick didn't quite understand. Rick had never seen him so vulnerable – he wasn't sure anyone had. He hadn't known it was possible.

"I can't," Vyvyan said, as softly as he smiled, "Not in the least." And Rick understood, really understood, that he meant the exact opposite.

Then the mask was on again and he looked away, the smile fading into a typical scowl.

"But you're not a bad person. In fact, most of the time you are such a revoltingly good person that it makes me want to throw up."

"Really?"

"No, you're terrible. At times, I wish you were dead. Or I were."

"You're terrible," Rick said, gazing at him in grateful adoration, "Just awful."

"Aw, you're just saying that."

"No, it's true, you're the most horrible housemate I've ever had."

"Hey now! Neil doesn't get many accolades, let him keep the most horrible housemate award."

"Agreed," Rick snuggled back into his chest, "You can have most horrible housemate I'm sleeping with."

"God, I hope there's no one else in the running for that one."

"Eugh," Rick shuddered, "Definitely not."

"It's settled, then," Vyvyan kissed Rick's forehead, untangled himself, and got up. He put his shirt on and headed for the door, "The most horrible housemate you're sleeping with is going downstairs to see about getting breakfast from the most horrible housemate of all. You coming?"

"In a minute. I've got something to do first."

Vyvyan smiled at him a moment before heading downstairs. Rick waited for him to leave, fished his diary from its newest hiding place, and began to write.

Friday, 11 October

I was wrong. I was completely wrong. I don't know if he'll ever admit it, or if he even knows it himself, but I know now. Finally, after all this time, I really, truly know how he really feels about me, no matter what he says. I saw it in his eyes.

It's the most wonderful feeling in the world.