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‘Hey, mate, did you know -,’ Eric starts, but gazing at the nightly sky is a bit distracting, so his sentence trails off in the middle.

‘Nah, probably not,’ Viggo replies after a beat. He turns onto his side on his beach towel - to be honest, that towel is so tiny, the more accurate phrasing would be ‘accidentally rolls off it into the sand’ - and stops staring up in favour of looking at Eric.

After a moment, Eric turns his head, and despite the questionable lighting, he can see Viggo’s teeth flashing as he grins.

‘What?’ Eric asks.

‘What “what”?’ Viggo asks back reasonably. ‘You were saying?’

As a response (or not, depends on how you see it), Eric returns to gazing at the minimal sprinkling of stars above them. Viggo picks up a piece of dried reed that lies in the sand and uses it to poke Eric’s shoulder. It’s like slotting a slightly scratchy record back into the right groove, Eric picks up right where he left off.

‘- that we’ll be here for the Peleides?’

Viggo hums.

‘Nice guys, are they?’ he asks, grins when Eric snorts and then nearly chokes on that snort.

‘Asshole,’ Eric replies, his voice raspy, since it is clearly Viggo’s fault that he can’t breathe properly when lying down. He kicks Viggo’s shin with his naked and very sandy foot. Viggo flicks his piece of reel at him, and it grazes Eric’s nose. Eric tosses a handful of sand in his general direction, spraying himself with it as much as Viggo.

‘They aren’t people, they are meteorites,’ he explains right after. ‘And in second week of August, there’s a lot of them coming down all at the same time.’

Viggo hums and flops back onto his back. Eric briefly glances his way, when the light next to him changes, and the moon is now rivalled by the light of Viggo’s mobile phone. Such a romantic, is Viggo. He doesn’t, however, start playing ’Timber Tennis’ which he usually does, like the eight year old he is. Eric looks back up and listens to the sound of the waves not ten feet from his feet, and to the sound of some rather noisy Russian teenagers night-bathing.

‘Mate, did you know -’ Viggo starts after a couple of minutes and stops mid-sentence, pretty much because he is an asshole.

‘Yeah, probably do,’ Eric drawls, not laughing.

‘Asshole.’

This time Eric does chuckle and he doesn’t even choke on it. Much lighter than before, he nudges Viggo’s calf with his foot, prompting him.

‘C’mon, tell me.’

Viggo huffs for a moment, as if he is considering that, but then of course complies.

‘So, shooting stars, hm? According to that Greek astronomer Ptolemy, from time to time the Gods peer down at the earth, yeah? Because they are curious or because they are bored or because -’

‘There’s no cricket on.’

‘Yeah, or because of that. So anyway, according to this website, they look down from between the spheres, and as they do, sometimes stars, which they hold in their hands, slip out of their grasp and that’s where we’re getting shooting stars from. And since they are looking down at us anyway, when you wish on a shooting star, the Gods are more receptive of that wish.’
Eric hums.

‘I’m just glad the Gods aren’t holding handgranades then.’

Viggo’s cackling laughter causes the Russian youths to falls silent for a surprised second, before they resume their splashing water games in the dark.

‘Marvellous thing,’ Eric says after a moment.

Viggo shifts once more next to him, brushing sand from his t-shirt’s sleeve.

‘What, the universe?’

Eric hums.

‘The internet.’

on 2017-08-04 04:42 pm (UTC)
gattodoro: (Viggo Shirt)
Posted by [personal profile] gattodoro
Your reportage on Eric and Viggo together is a marvellous thing <3

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