第 34 页

Curufin only half listened, his eyes lighting on Finrod as he slipped around the corner of the house and down the sidewalk. Finrod looked over his shoulder, and their eyes met, once, before Curufin closed the door.

---

The longer the week, the bleaker Maglor’s mood.

It had to be a sign, he thought, of how pathetic he’d become, that while wandering aimlessly through the house, he’d found himself in Maedhros’ old room and was almost immediately overcome with emotion. Despite telling himself to turn around and leave – You have things to do, there’s no time for self-indulgent moping – he found himself curling up on the bed instead. Maedhros had left one of his sweaters folded neatly on the quilt, and Maglor told himself that he had just picked it up to move it out of his way, not to hold it close and close his eyes, feeling an ache like homesickness rattle through his chest.

He definitely wasn’t going to tuck his face against it, his eyes stinging at the familiar scent.

Definitely not.

That would be so trite.

It was some time later that Caranthir found him there, having traipsed through the house searching for him.

“Káno! Where are the hell are you? Why are the lights out? …Oh.”

He paused at the doorway, scrutinizing Maglor’s back. Maglor didn’t look up, but Caranthir hesitated, and then crossed the room and sat down on the bed. He picked up one of the pillows and turned it over idly in his hands.

“You miss him a lot, huh?” he said at last, and Maglor raised his head. Caranthir carefully looked away so that Maglor could discreetly wipe his eyes.

“Yes.”

“Sorry we’re not better at being him,” mumbled Caranthir, still looking away, and Maglor shook his head.

“No, please don’t, Moryo. I don’t need you guys to replace him, I just… It’s been a while since we’ve lived apart, is all. And it’s weird being without him.”

“It is.” Caranthir scooted back and lay down on the bed next to Maglor. “I miss him too, you know.”

Maglor blinked, surprised. It was unusual for Caranthir to be this forthcoming – almost as unusual as him actively seeking out his brothers’ company. “Really?”

“Really.”

Maglor felt a lump rise in his throat again, and coughed, clearing his throat gruffly. He felt caught by a sudden urge to explain himself. “I feel like I should be filling his shoes. Doing what he did for you guys, being a better big brother…”

“You are a good big brother,” said Caranthir, embarrassed. “You always have been, it’s not just Maitimo who does that.”

Maglor turned over, Maedhros’ old sweater dropping silently off the side of the bed. “Really?”

“Really.”

There was a long silence, broken by Maglor asking, “Moryo, are you doing okay?”

Caranthir blinked. “Yeah.”

-

When they were small, Caranthir had always been difficult to talk to. He would come home from school sometimes, sizzling with anger, but would refuse to tell anyone what had happened. Their parents would try to persuade him to talk until they were blue in the face and exasperated, but Caranthir would stay stubbornly silent, his ears red with suppressed fury and his dark eyes flashing so fiercely he was a little frightening looking.

Maglor had found that if he left his door open, Caranthir would find his way in. He’d turn around and see Caranthir sitting against the closet door, picking moodily at the carpet. Eventually, Maglor would go over to sit next to him. Not looking at him, he’d ask a patient series of yes or no questions, and slowly but surely, get the story from his younger brother.

Did a big kid hit you at school?

No.

But someone did.

Yeah.

Someone we know?

Yeah.

Are you embarrassed to tell because they’re smaller than you?

…Yeah.

Was it that girl from the second grade? The one who took your book on the bus the other day?

Yes.

Hm. Okay. How would you like me and Maitimo to walk you to school instead? Just for a little while, maybe. Would that work for you?

…Yes.

That’s what we’ll do, then.

-

Maglor had a sudden flash to those days, as he glanced over at his long, lanky brother, whose face was even now caught in a dark frown.

He decided to keep trying. “No, but actually. How are you doing?”

There was a pause, and then Caranthir mumbled, “I’unno.”

Almost without realizing what he was doing, Maglor stretched out an arm. Caranthir stiffened at first, uncertain, and then Maglor felt something tight in his chest loosen as Caranthir rolled over to tuck his face against Maglor’s shoulder. He was several inches taller than Maglor, and Maglor was sure they looked very silly lying there, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care as he wrapped his arm around his brother’s shoulders.

There was another long silence, as Maglor thought about what question to ask next. Finally, he decided he wasn’t going to beat around the bush.

“Moryo, are you sleeping with Findaráto?”

Caranthir didn’t answer for a while, his face still hidden. Maglor tugged lightly at his hair. “I won’t judge you, I promise.”

Caranthir let out a breath, and Maglor felt it hot against his shoulder. “Yeah.”

“I guessed.”

“Yeah.”

“Is that why he and Amarië – ”

“Yeah.”

Maglor bit his lip, but was unable to restrain his curiosity. “Are you dating him now?”

“I dunno.”

Maglor thought for another moment, his fingers brushing absently over Caranthir’s back. “Do you still have feelings for Haleth?”

Caranthir gave a muffled groan, his ears turning red, and he buried his face further into Maglor’s shoulder. Eventually, Maglor felt him nod.

Maglor tightened his arm around Caranthir, but kept himself from saying anything sympathetic, knowing how much Caranthir hated the appearance of pity. “Who’s she dating, anyway?”

“Aunt Lalwen.”

Maglor was effectively distracted by this revelation. “WHAT?”

“I know.”

Maglor lay still, digesting this. Before he could think of another question, a figure appeared in the doorway and regarded them with some amusement.

“What is this, a slumber party? You guys braiding each other’s hair? Dishing about boys?”

Caranthir growled, but Maglor didn’t respond, simply holding out his free arm.

Celegorm shook his head, grinning. “You sap.” He came over to the bed anyway and flopped down on Maglor’s other side. The bed creaked alarmingly, but Celegorm ignored it, curling up against Maglor like a large, warm cat. “This bed is way too small for all of us. Now I think of it, this is probably why Maitimo didn’t have any threeways.”

“That we know of,” muttered Caranthir, against Maglor’s shoulder.

“Fair point. What were you guys talking about?”

“Um,” began Maglor cautiously, but Caranthir mumbled, “He knows.”

“Oh. Moryo’s love life, then.”

“Oooh, excellent,” said Celegorm, snuggling closer and resting his chin on Maglor’s chest.

Maglor gave an ‘oof’ of discomfort, but Celegorm ignored him. “So, did you tell Káno, or did he figure it out himself?”

“It was kind of obvious,” said Maglor, elbowing Celegorm until he removed his chin from Maglor’s sternum. “Thin walls, you know, and you guys kept insisting on dramatic conversations in the hallway, as if we weren’t like three feet away.”

“Well, I wasn’t the one who thought that was a good idea. I was just running interference.”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” Caranthir began, sounding distinctly uncomfortable.

“What is going on?”

They all looked up. Curufin was standing in the doorway, looking disapproving. “Don’t you all have your own rooms? And beds? Why are you all on that terrible old futon of Nelyo’s? You look like a litter of puppies.” He said it with the tone of disgust usually reserved for ‘pits of maggots’ or ‘heaps of rotting limbs.’

“Makalaurë started it,” said Caranthir.

“Come join the pile, peewee,” said Celegorm, unabashed, holding out his arms, but Curufin folded his arms.

“Absolutely not.”

He did cross the room, though, and sat carefully on the foot of the bed, out of reach, watching his brothers with deep skepticism. Maglor poked him with a toe, and Curufin pinched it.

“Ouch.”

“You deserved it.”

“C’mere, brat,” said Celegorm, and grabbed Curufin by the ankle.

“Tyelko, I will kill you – ”

“Too late.” Celegorm seized Curufin around the waist and manhandled him back into the pile with Maglor and Caranthir.

“I will kill you, I will kill your dog, I will give your boyfriend ebola – ”

“You sick little freak, shut up and be hugged.”

“I will tell dad – ”

“That threat didn’t work when we were kids, why do you think it’ll work now?” Celegorm wrapped his arms tighter around Curufin’s waist and squeezed until Curufin gasped for breath.

“I’ve got more dirt on you now, you asshole.”

"And I've got fifty pounds on you, asshole, so unless you want to be crushed to death, you will shut up and let me love you."

“Why were you all looking for me, anyway?” Maglor asked after an interlude, during which Curufin hissed threats until Celegorm smothered him with a pillow.

Caranthir shrugged. “I was wondering what we were doing for dinner.”

“Same.”

Maglor tried not to let his impatience rise. “I told you: I’ll only cook for everyone two nights a week; the rest of the time you’re on your own.”

Curufin emerged from under the pillows, having kicked Celegorm viciously in the shins until he freed him. “That’s fine. I’m set for this evening, anyway.”

Maglor and Celegorm both looked at him, disbelieving. “Sure.”

“What did you make yourself? Birdseed? Half a mouse?”

“I had popcorn.”

“Popcorn does not count as dinner,” said Celegorm and Maglor together, and Caranthir grinned.

“You two just sounded exactly like mom.”

Curufin smirked as Celegorm and Maglor exchanged horrified looks. “Watch out, Tyelko. With Nelyo gone, Makalaurë’s going to be looking for a new co-parent and you’re stepping right into his shoes…”

“I am not,” said Celegorm vehemently. “Look, just because me ‘n’ Kano are the only two left who can actually cook – ”

“Someday you’re both going to have to learn to cook more than one dish,” put in Maglor. “Honestly, you’re embarrassments.”

Caranthir and Curufin exchanged the long-suffering looks of younger siblings deeply bored with a particular line of discussion, and for a moment, things were as they always had been. Then something flickered behind Curufin’s eyes, and his face closed off again. Caranthir glowered and looked away.

Celegorm caught sight of the exchange and frowned, but just said, “Well, the dinner argument is going to have to take place without me, nerds, I’ve got plans.”

“What kind of plans?” asked Maglor curiously, as Caranthir got up from the bed and went over the lean against the window, arms folded and eyes dark.

“None of your business.” Celegorm got up too, ruffling Curufin’s hair in passing.

Curufin curled his lip and whispered, “I will poison your dog.”

“Nope.”

“I’ll poison you.”

Celegorm grinned at him and bent down to kiss him loudly on the cheek. Curufin fell back from him, revulsion rendering him momentarily speechless.

“Hey, Káno, you got a tie I can borrow?

“Um. Maybe?” Maglor tried to think, his eyes flicking to Caranthir, who was staring out the window. Curufin was watching him too, something odd in his expression. “It might be the one I wore to Grandfather’s funeral, though.”

“Yeah, wrong vibes. I’m gonna need something else.” Celegorm joined Caranthir at the window and slung an arm over his shoulders, pulling him along out of the room. “C’mon, beanpole, let’s go hunting for formalwear…”

---

In the hallway, Oromë’s grandfather clock had just struck seven. Celegorm was halfway dressed, but had gotten sidetracked by Huan, who had seized one of his socks and was now leaping happily around the room with it.

“Come here, you filthy animal, I’ll eat your paws and ears for dinner and use your tail as a belt – ”

Huan sneezed happily, still clinging to the sock, and Celegorm half laughed, half groaned, sinking down on the bed and throwing a pillow at his wayward pet.

“Goddammit.”

“Are you not dressed yet?” Oromë came into the bedroom, shrugging his jacket on over his dress shirt.

Celegorm’s eyes lit up as they fell on Oromë, and he wolf-whistled. “Damn. You are pulling that look off. Especially the part where your shirt isn’t buttoned up all the way yet, leave it like that for sure…”

But Oromë shook his head, already starting to do up the last buttons on his shirt. “Our reservations are for 7:30. You have fifteen minutes before…” His eyes raked Celegorm’s form. “…Are you barefoot?”

“Huan’s got my sock,” said Celegorm, by way of explanation, and Oromë looked like he was restraining himself from rolling his eyes only with difficulty.

“Grab a pair of mine.”

Celegorm leaned back on his elbows, still watching Oromë, his eyes lingering on the fit of Oromë’s jacket over his broad shoulders. “Why didn’t I know how fucking good you look in a suit?”

“Possibly because you’ve never seen me in a suit?” Oromë pulled a pair of socks from the bureau and tossed them at Celegorm’s head. “Socks. Shoes. And fix your tie.”

“Fine, fine.” Celegorm tore his gaze from Oromë and pulled on the socks before standing up and kicking the door shut so he could examine himself in the mirror behind it. “Oh man, though, I definitely have seen you in a suit before. At the team awards dinners, I remember now. Like I wasn't distracted enough by you before...” He made a face in the mirror as he fiddled with his collar. “I don’t like ties.”

Oromë’s large hands settled on his shoulders and he pressed a kiss below his ear. “Too bad. You look good in them.”

“I feel like I’m on a leash,” complained Celegorm, and squawked as Oromë tugged lightly on his tie.

“We haven’t gotten quite to that kind of play yet,” said Oromë, very quietly into his ear, and Celegorm shuddered anticipatorily.

“Christ, aren’t you supposed to be convincing me to get into clothes, not out of them?”

“That’s true,” said Oromë, and let his hands drop. He moved to the door, straightening the cuffs of his shirt. “Best to save all that for later, hm?”

Celegorm sighed but examined himself once more in the mirror, dragging his fingers through his shaggy fall of hair. “Promise?”

“I promise.” Oromë caught Celegorm’s wrist as he began to tie his hair back in a ponytail. “Leave it down.”

Celegorm raised an eyebrow. “Really? Shouldn’t I – ”

“No.” Their eyes met in the mirror, and Celegorm bit his lip, grinning at the look in Oromë’s eyes.

“You have a fetish.”

“I do not. You just…look good with your hair down.” Oromë checked his watch. “Are you ready?”

“Uh.” Celegorm shot a final look at himself and growled in annoyance. “No. Tie’s still all cockeyed. Stupid thing.”

“Let me.” Oromë turned Celegorm around and began fiddling with the knot. Celegorm watched him, smiling slightly as he saw Oromë’s brows knit in frustration. “…How’s it going there, Coach?”