Work Text:
Sean wasn't fond of writing letters. He'd rather pick up the phone then put his thoughts down on paper or type an e-mail. Calls were direct, simple, less likely to be lost in translation. But busy lives often meant missed connections, and Sean hated voice mail more than writing letters. It was a dilemma he'd yet to resolve.
But then there were times when he was embarrassed by the words he needed to say, when his heart was filled to overflowing. Long declarations of love weren't his style; he was more comfortable showing rather than saying how he felt. Sometimes he'd use music, hunting down compositions that evoked the right emotion and recording himself on the piano. Other times he'd have care packages waiting for Viggo wherever he traveled, little touches of home in the midst of generic accommodations.
Viggo understood and accepted these expressions in all their forms, loved them even more for the effort Sean put into finding some way of "saying" what he could not bring himself to speak. He thought he may be the only person in the world who knew that Sean was far more romantic and creative than he'd ever be.
Even so, Viggo was surprised at the latest package. He played a recording of the Mills Brothers singing the Johnny Mercer classic, looked at pictures of the glittering Waitomo Caves. Then the note in Sean's concise script:
Glow worm, incandescent gold
My illumination, my bright spark
Shine
Viggo laughed, sighed and smiled, and felt his heart grow.