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“But instead I lied to you and deceived you, just like I did with Amarië. Yes.”

“You’re right,” said Turgon, turning away and putting his hand on the doorknob. “I don’t know you, Findaráto.”

Finrod stayed on the windowsill long after the door clicked shut behind Turgon, resting his forehead against the cool glass of the window, staring down onto the leaf-strewn street. When he got up at last, he didn’t return to the pile of papers on his desk, but grabbed his jacket in passing before he walked out.

----

Curufin was the one to answer the knock at the door, and his face darkened as he regarded Finrod standing on the stoop. “Oh. It’s you.”

Finrod attempted a smile, even though it took all his energy, but Curufin just stared at him, waiting.

“Can I come in?” asked Finrod at last, when it became clear Curufin wasn’t going to offer.

Curufin stood aside wordlessly, and Finrod entered the house. He hung his jacket on the hook by the door and tried another warm smile. It felt brittle, even to him. “How have you been?”

But Curufin just crossed his arms, refusing to engage. “Moryo’s in his room.”

Finrod wasn’t one to blush, but the look that Curufin leveled at him, combined with the blunt tone of his voice, made Finrod’s ears burn slightly in embarrassment. He felt a sudden urge to explain himself, an urge he hadn’t had in any of his previous confrontations.

“Thank you,” he murmured, instead, and brushed past Curufin into the living room.

-

Caranthir jumped as he heard his door open, his pen skittering across his notebook.

“Do you never knock? For fuck’s sake, Káno–” He turned in his seat, annoyed, and broke off.

Finrod was leaning against the closed door, looking very tired.

"What are you doing here?”

“Always a good question.” Finrod smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Mostly, I – I needed to get away.”

“Get away from what?”

“Oh, you know, people who love me and care about me and whom I invariably let down.”

Caranthir frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Finrod shrugged and crossed the room, dropping down heavily on the edge of the bed. “My little sister isn’t speaking to me and my best friend thinks I’m a terrible person. And he’s probably right.”

Caranthir felt a twinge of foreboding. He got up and joined Finrod on the edge of the bed. “Why?”

“Amarië broke up with me.”

“Oh. Oh." Realization came crashing down and Caranthir blanched. "Shit. Because of – ”

“Because she found out about us, yes.”

“Ah, fuck.” Caranthir shifted uneasily. “I don’t know what to say to that. I’m sorry? I mean. What am I supposed to say? What do you want me to say?”

“Nothing.”

“Uh, do you…” Caranthir groped for words, running his hand over the back of his neck. Was he supposed to feel bad that Finrod was now single? To his surprise, he did feel a little bad, though it was tinged with a strange burst of anxiety. Surely he should feel relief instead. “D’you want to talk about it?”

“No,” said Finrod, flatly. “I really don’t.”

Caranthir raised his eyes to Finrod’s face. “So what are you – ” He broke off as Finrod moved closer to him, putting a hand on his leg. “Wait, are you serious?”

“Yes.” Finrod’s hand moved higher and he stared intently at Caranthir.

“Ingo, I have homework, and class in like an hour.”

“So you don’t want to?”

“I didn’t say that.” Caranthir twitched as Finrod moved closer, his hand sliding up the inside of Caranthir’s thigh.

“Oh, good.”

Caranthir couldn’t keep himself from reaching out to run a lock of Finrod’s hair through his fingers. His hand dropped to Finrod’s shoulder, fingers pressing against Finrod’s throat. Finrod shuddered, and Caranthir felt that familiar twist of satisfaction.

“Is this how most people deal with breakups?”

“I have no idea,” said Finrod. He hooked his fingers into Caranthir’s belt loops and pulled himself onto Caranthir’s lap. “But we’ve already established I’m not exactly normal, or a good person, so who the fuck cares?”

It was one of the first times Caranthir had ever heard Finrod swear. Part of him felt certain he should be objecting, or feeling guilty, but as usual, when Finrod slid his hands into Caranthir’s hair and pulled him into a long kiss, all rational thought went out the window. So instead, he pushed his hands up under Finrod’s shirt, dragging his nails against Finrod’s skin, and kissed him back.

Maybe neither of them was particularly normal.

-

Caranthir rolled onto his back, working to catch his breath. Beside him, Finrod stretched out, staring at the ceiling.

Caranthir glanced at him. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“No offense, but you don’t look fine. Are you sure you don’t want to…talk, or something?”

“It’s very kind of you to offer,” said Finrod softly. “But I’m perfectly well. Thank you.”

Caranthir shrugged, and tucked a hand behind his head. “Okay then.”

They lay quietly for a while, not touching except for the light brush of their shoulders, and only when Caranthir’s phone buzzed did he stir. He checked the screen and swore. “Ah, fuck, I’ve got class in like ten minutes.” He rolled himself out of bed and fumbled for his clothes. “I’ve gotta go, but you’re free to stay, if you want. Leave whenever. And Curvo’s home, so don’t worry about locking up or anything when you go.”

“Okay.”

Caranthir dragged on his pants and rummaged in the dresser for a clean shirt. “I guess we don’t have to sneak around as much anymore. Or do you still want to keep this, like, quiet?” He shot a look back at the bed. Finrod was a motionless, slim figure amongst the tangled sheets. Caranthir couldn’t see his face.

“I don’t care.” When Finrod spoke at last, his voice was very quiet. “Whatever you’d like.”

Caranthir felt a pang of annoyance. “What do you want?”

“I don’t care,” Finrod repeated, and rolled over. “It really doesn’t matter.”

Caranthir hesitated at the door for a second as he swung his backpack over his shoulder, but a glance at his watch showed that he was already running late. “All right then. Whatever.”

His last impression of the room was the fading light coming in through the windows, and that golden head, very still on his pillows.

-

Finrod lay in Caranthir’s bed until the room was almost totally dark, the late autumn evening rolling quickly over the weak light of the afternoon.

Finrod moved at last, sliding his bare legs against the sheets, and pushed himself upright. Dashing an impatient hand over his eyes, he got up and searched for his clothes on the floor; unwilling to turn on the light just yet. He gathered his belongings, and then, as an afterthought, he swiftly made Caranthir’s bed, smoothing the rumpled sheets and blankets and retrieving a condom wrapper from under the pillow.

Better late than never, he thought, with bitter amusement, dropping the wrapper into the wastebasket.

Emerging from Caranthir’s room, Finrod glanced around. The rest of the house was just as dark; Maglor clearly hadn’t made it home from his shift at the coffee shop yet. The only light was a sliver in the upstairs hall, slanting out from Curufin’s room.

At least I don’t have to worry about running into anyone, he thought, twisting out his tight shoulders and slipping on his shoes. He went to reach for his jacket, hanging up next to the door, but something made him hesitate. He paused, thinking, looking over his shoulder at the thin sliver of light at the top of the stairs.

Then he let his jacket fall back on the hook, turned, and started up the stairs.

Firing these things called TNT

Chapter Summary

Boom

The tap on his door was so light that at first Curufin ignored it. When it came again, he looked up, frowning. “Who is it?”

“It’s me.” Finrod pushed lightly on the half open door and stepped halfway across the lintel.

“Oh.” Curufin dropped his gaze back to his book. “I thought I heard you leave.”

“Carnistir did. I…hung around a little.”

“Evidently.”

Finrod hesitated. “I don’t mean to interrupt you – ”

“But you already have, so spit it out,” said Curufin shortly. “What do you want?”

“I wanted to talk to you.” Finrod stepped around the door and came into the room, stopping a couple feet from Curufin.

“About what?” Curufin kept his eyes on his book, the irritation already building in him. What was Finrod doing here?

“I wanted to apologize.”

Curufin looked up, taken aback.

“Carnistir said you saw us last weekend,” said Finrod softly, and Curufin was surprised to see a faint flush pass over his fair features. “I – I can’t imagine what that must have looked like to you. It was unfathomably poor behavior on my part, and I’m sorry you had to witness it.”

“It wasn’t very edifying, that’s for sure,” said Curufin bluntly, and Finrod nodded.

“I know. I don’t always…think these things through. Please accept my apology for behaving so badly.”

Curufin studied him. “It’s not me you should be apologizing to for your behavior.”

“You mean Amarië.” Finrod met his eyes squarely.

“Obviously.”

“You and she agree on that front.” Finrod shrugged a painful shoulder. “And you’re correct, of course. But I suppose that’s moot now. She left me.”

“Well, it seems there’s no doubt you deserved it,” said Curufin snidely, and Finrod nodded again, his face very sober.

“You are not the only one to think me a terrible person.”

“Stop being passive and self-deprecating,” snapped Curufin. “Are you trying to garner sympathy? You’re so obvious, Findaráto.”

“I don’t want your sympathy,” said Finrod, with a trace of heat. “I’m trying – I was trying to apologize to you.”

“You haven’t wronged me, you idiot. I mean, other than inflicting on my eyeballs the sight of you and my brother…”

“I am sorry about that. As I said. But…there’s something more, isn’t there?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re angry with me.” Finrod shifted his weight from side to side and winced. “Do you mind if I sit?”

“If you must.” Curufin slid over on the bed as Finrod sat rather wearily beside him.

“Curvo, I feel like there’s something I’ve done to anger you. Or something about me that you find particularly objectionable.”

“That’s not true.”

“I always liked talking to you. Our conversations are always stimulating, and honestly, you’re smarter than the majority of PhD candidates I hang out with. I like how you challenge my assumptions, I like how you don’t let me get away with things, how you don’t let me be complacent… I thought we always more or less got along. But recently I’ve felt…like you look at me with distaste. Dislike, even.”

“I don’t dislike you,” said Curufin automatically.

“Then have I done something to offend you?” Finrod stared at him searchingly.

“No.” Curufin felt like pulling himself further away, but that motion in itself would be too revealing.

“Disgust you then?” Finrod wasn’t looking away, and Curufin gritted his teeth, hating those unwavering blue eyes. “Is it…I know my involvement with Carnistir must be objectionable to someone with a strong moral compass. You have every right to judge me for that. Or do you not trust me to treat your brother– ”

Curufin laughed. “Strong moral compass? For god’s sake, Findaráto. I don’t – I hardly care about any of that. And if you think I’m protective of Moryo then you really don’t known either of us at all.”

“Then what is it?” demanded Finrod. “I’m not wrong – There’s something you’re angry about.”

“Why do you care? We’re not close, who cares if I don’t snuggle up to you like everyone else? Don’t you have enough admirers to keep you happy? Sweet Ingoldo, lovely Ingoldo, how everyone loves you…Hah, well, maybe not anymore.”

Finrod refused to rise to Curufin’s bait. “Humor me.”

“You’re imagining it.”

“I’m not. I’ve ruined so many things, Curvo,” said Finrod in frustration. “I don’t want to ruin my friendship with you without even knowing why.”

“We’re not friends!”

“Why not? I like talking to you, I like being around you, you’re smart and interesting and – ”

“Shut up, Ingoldo!”

“See? You’re angry with me.”

“It’s not because I don’t like you!” Curufin’s voice raised, and he clenched his hands on his lap. “You’re so frustrating – You don’t leave things alone, why are you like that? You’re so annoying, you’re so – so – why do I even – ” He broke off, actually shaking with anger, Finrod watching him steadily.

“What?”

“I don’t dislike you.”

“I think you do.”

“I don’t,” spat Curufin, “I’m not pissed because you did something wrong.”

“So you are pissed then. What is it?”

Curufin dug his fingers into his hair, beyond frustration. “You are so impossible! I don’t dislike you, you asshole. I wish I disliked you. I can’t stop thinking about you, okay? Every time – I can’t – ” He bit off the rest of his words, humiliated. “It’s frightening,” he mumbled. “How much I think about you. How I react to you. And so I…act like I do. Like I’m angry.”

Finrod was staring at him, shocked.

Curufin felt the shame rise in him, and he turned away. “Just leave. You got your answer, all right? Are you happy? I’m not angry at you, I’m just another pathetic– Like you don’t have enough. You don’t have to say anything, Findaráto, just – ” But he stopped talking as long fingers caught his chin and pulled him back around.

“Curvo,” said Finrod gently.

Curufin shivered, unable to take his eyes off the shape of Finrod’s lips around his name. “You don’t have to – ”

But whatever he was going to say was swallowed as Finrod leaned forward and very softly pressed his lips to Curufin’s.

* * *

Maglor came up the walk, his guitar over one shoulder, talking animatedly to Maedhros, who was listening with an amused look on his face.

“It’s brilliant, Maitimo, I’ve never had an accompanist who’s this intuitive. I hardly have to give him any instruction at all! I wish I could hire him full time – ”

“There’s just the small problem of you not having any money to pay him,” Maedhros put in, eyes twinkling.

“Well, there’s that. And also he’s planning on joining the Marines.” Maglor sighed deeply, opening the door. “What a waste.”

“Yeah,” said Fingon, who was trailing them up the steps, burdened with an enormous bag of groceries. “Silly chap – going for something with no future like being a Marine, when instead he could be an unpaid flautist for your broke ass. Ecthelion really has no concept of choosing for his future.”

“I’m not saying he couldn’t have another job, I’m just – ” Maglor jumped, startled, as a figure clattered down the stairs to the front hall. “What’s that? Oh – Findaráto, I didn’t know you were here.”

“I’m leaving,” said Finrod, who was very pale, grabbing his coat from the hook and fumbling with his shoes. “I’m sorry, I have – a lot to do…”

Fingon dodged out of the way as Finrod sped past.

“Moryo should be back from class soon,” called Maglor, “we’re going to watch the midterm results and – ”