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“Jesus.” Aredhel sat down at the side of the path, not even caring as a biker swore and swerved around her. “So this was like an affair.”

“Yeah.”

“He’s not married, is he?”

Celegorm smiled a little at that. “No.”

“But still.” She looked up severely. “Seriously inappropriate. He’d be fired for – I mean, taking advantage of one of his athletes, Jesus.”

“Fuck, spare me,” said Celegorm, and a hint of fire came into his eyes. “Think I haven’t heard this before?”

“You told someone else?” She looked indignant. “You kept it a secret from me, but told – ”

“I haven’t told anyone, dummy,” Celegorm interrupted. “I’m talking about him. That’s pretty much exactly what he said when he ended things.”

* * *

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Oromë held out a hand, but Celegorm pushed it aside.

“Tyelkormo…”

“No, don’t give me that shit.” Celegorm balled his fists at his side. “Why are you doing this?”

Oromë sighed. “Because of the reasons I just listed. I am in a position of authority here, your coach and mentor, and I have taken advantage of that to…have a relationship with you. It is unethical, not to mention against the University Code of– ”

“Taking advantage of me?” Celegorm laughed mirthlessly. “That’s such bullshit. I’m not a kid, I’m twenty fucking one years old. I came on to you. I’m the one who pursued you, I’m the one who turned up at your house and - ”

“I know,” said Oromë, closing his eyes briefly. “But it’s not that simple. None of that means that I should have encouraged you.”

“Encouraged me?” Celegorm stepped closer. “You wanted me. You still want me.”

“Tyelko…”

“You fucking coward.”

“You are seven months away from graduating,” said Oromë, and there was something like a plea in his low, rich voice. “Once you’re no longer a student, no longer one of my players, perhaps we could…”

“Right,” spat Celegorm. “Right, like you’ll still be interested in seven months. I bet you’ll just have some new excuse then, some new bullshit about why you don’t want me – coward.”

“I am not rejecting you,” said Oromë, laying his hand on Celegorm’s shoulder. “I’m just trying to do what I should have done six months ago.”

But Celegorm knocked his hand away and bared his teeth. “Take what you want and get out, huh? It’s a good move, Coach. But why bother with the pretense of acting like you care? Why not just keep fucking me, keep using me – that’s all you did, right? Used me? Took advantage of me?” He tore his shirt off and stood before him, bare chested and beautiful in his rage. “C’mon. You know you want this.” He grabbed the front of Oromë’s shirt and pushed him back against the wall, somewhere between violence and desire. “Fuck me,” he whispered, and kissed Oromë, all teeth and bitter passion. “Use me. I don’t care.”

But Oromë was seizing his shoulders with large, strong hands, and pushing him gently but insistently back. “Tyelkormo.”

“Fuck you!” Celegorm cried and swung at him. Oromë caught his wrist and held him back easily. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you…”

“Tyelko,” said Oromë, gently. “You need to go.”

“No,” said Celegorm, and his voice broke. “Don’t send me away.”

“I don’t have a choice.”

“Oromë…”

“You need to go.”

“Please…”

“Now,” said Oromë, and his voice was as commanding as it was on the practice fields.

“Fine.” Celegorm broke away, a savage look coming over his face. “Fine, you cowardly fuck, you weak, pathetic asshole…” He grabbed his bag and stormed out, slamming the door so hard that he broke a pane of glass. Looking back over his shoulder at the small, shattered square, he paused. He walked slowly back to the door, and methodically punched out every single pane of glass. Then he turned, heedless of the blood dripping from his torn fist, and disappeared into the night.

* * *

“Jesus,” whispered Aredhel. “Tyelko…”

Celegorm smiled humorlessly. “Yep.”

“Jesus.”

Celegorm raised his eyebrows at her. “Well. Now you’ve got that story. So. Let’s keep going.”

“Are you serious?” Aredhel reached up and dragged him down next to her. “After that? I’m not even close to done with you. Tyelko. Were you in love with him?”

“Don’t be a jackass,” said Celegorm. “I don’t do – ”

“Were you?”

Celegorm looked away. “Yes.”

Aredhel felt an acute burst of pity squeeze her heart. “Oh, babe.”

“Yeah, well,” Celegorm turned back, a cool smile on his face. “It was helpful for convincing everyone I was in love with Lúthien.”

“That’s why you were so obsessed.” Aredhel dragged a hand over her face. “You were channeling all that – whatever it all was, over Oromë, into your relationship with her, and then when she left you…”

“Yeah, yeah, good job, Doc,” said Celegorm. “Well analyzed.”

“But Jesus, you had to see him through the rest of the season. That must have been brutal.”

“It wasn’t fun,” acknowledged Celegorm. “But at least I played a sport that allowed me to beat the shit out of people.”

“Until you took it too far and got yourself so badly fucked up you couldn’t even play.”

“There’s that.”

“What did he have to say about that?”

* * *

Celegorm dragged his eyes open, the morphine is his veins dulling his surroundings to a soft blur. He shifted, and groaned softly as his leg protested. “Fuck.”

“Careful.” The quiet, rich voice set Celegorm’s skin pricking with anticipation, even through the drugged haze.

“Oromë?”

Oromë came into view then, standing up from the chair where he’d been waiting. “How do you feel?” There were shadows under his eyes, and his handsome face looked worn with exhaustion and worry.

“I feel fucking peachy, boss, what do you think?” He moved his head restlessly against the pillows. “Glad you decided you cared enough to check in, though.”

Oromë’s eyes darkened in agony. “Of course I care.”

“How long have you been here?”

“I came in with you, Tyelko.”

Celegorm swallowed and tried to keep himself from reaching out. “Cheers. Not the best date I’ve been on, but – ”

Oromë laid a hand against his wrist, silencing him. “Your parents will be here soon.”

“I don’t care.” Celegorm flexed his fingers. “When do they say I’ll be up?”

“Tyelko…”

“Is it a sprain? Did I dislocate something?”

“Tyelko,” Oromë’s deep voice held a hint of frustration. “Do you not remember seeing the bone? You broke your leg so badly - You’ve been in surgery for hours.”

“So?”

“You won’t be on your feet – much less the pitch – for months.”

Celegorm gave a spasmodic twitch, and bit back a cry of pain as his leg was jostled. A gentle hand descended on his shoulder, stilling him.

“Try not to move,” said Oromë quietly. “And if you press that button, your morphine drip will – ”

“I don’t care,” snarled Celegorm. “I don’t care, I want to feel it, fuck, fuck, fuck…”

“Why did you do it?” demanded Oromë. “Best case you would have been ejected from the game, worst case…”

“I don’t care,” cried Celegorm. “Fuck, Oromë, I don’t care, I just want – ” His hand fisted in Oromë’s sleeve and he dragged him closer. “I miss you,” he said, agony cracking his voice. “I want you, I need you… ”

Oromë made a low noise of pain. “This is hardly the time…”

“I need you,” whispered Celegorm, and pulled Oromë down into a desperate kiss.

For a moment it was just as it always had been. Oromë’s large hand wrapped around the back of his neck, those warm, familiar lips strong and comforting on his. And as ever, for a moment, Celegorm felt totally safe, totally content in stillness for once, content to let himself just be…

But too soon, Oromë was pulling away. “I can’t. Tyelkormo, you're not even in your right mind right now. You must… Your parents will be here soon.”

“No,” whispered Celegorm. “Don’t leave.”

But Oromë was already retreating, like he needed to put as much space between them as possible. “Take care of yourself,” he said, with one last, broken smile, and strode from the room.

“Fuck,” whispered Celegorm, and hurled the plastic cup from his bedside at the closed door in a burst of impotent rage. “Fuck.”

* * *

“Irissë, stop looking at me like that.” Celegorm frowned, perturbed. “I don’t even – what is that expression?”

“It’s me wondering whether to hug you and weep or smack you in the head,” said Aredhel.

Celegorm raised his arms preemptively. “If it’s the latter, I warn you I’m not afraid to defend myself.”

“Oh, Tyelko.” She sighed. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

“You think that’s something I tell people?” Celegorm scoffed. “Sure. I can see how that would have gone. Hey, Ireth, I was fucking my rugby coach and might be in love with him, but he broke up with me so I smashed a bunch of shit at his house and then fractured my femur.”

“Yeah,” said Aredhel. “You could have said exactly that. I’m your best friend. You can tell me anything.”

Celegorm rolled his eyes. “This is kinda outside the realm of our usual discussions.”

“Is this the first time you’ve seen him?”

“Since graduation, yeah. And even then – it’s not like I saw him, I just…saw him. From a distance. Can we keep going, please? I’m atrophying here.”

“Yeah, sure, okay,” said Aredhel absently, and Celegorm hauled her to her feet.

“Stop looking like you’re thinking so hard. It’s disturbing.”

“Do you plan on seeing him again?”

“Augh,” said Celegorm. “Can we talk about something else?”

“Do you still have feelings for him?”

“AUGH,” said Celegorm, louder, and sped up.

Aredhel pursued him. “I really think – ”

“Can’t hear you, Irissë, sorry,” said Celegorm loudly. “Oh, look, a straightaway. Let’s sprint!”

“We’re not done talking!” Aredhel yelled after him as he took off, and bent over, wheezing, her hands on her knees.

Chapter End Notes

2. UPDATE: If you want a glimpse of Celegorm and Oromë back in the day, complete with lots of smut and minus the heartbreak, see: We made mad love, shadow love.

3. UPDATE 2: If you want five chapters on how Celegorm and Oromë got together in the first place... Oh, just indulge me.

Hot day in heaven

Chapter Summary

Mending fences.

Chapter Notes

0. Upping the rating to mature, for this one (sex things). Maybe I'm erring on the side of caution, maybe not; I’m always terrible with figuring out warnings. As usual, terribly coarse language. In my defense, I really do swear this much in casual conversation.

1. I forgot to mention this seven chapters ago, but the title of this work (and many of the chapters) lifted from a line by AWOLNATION.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

The door was terribly familiar, though, as Celegorm noticed with an unusual flicker of shame, the glass panes set in it had all been replaced.

“Don’t be such a chickenshit,” he said to himself, as he raised his hand and knocked.

He waited, heart pounding in his ears, as footsteps approached the door. A shadow behind the cloudy glass; a figure, pausing. And then the door opened.

“Tyelkormo.”

Celegorm reminded himself to breathe, and raised his eyes to that familiar face. “Hey, Coach.”

Oromë was still for a moment, studying him, then gestured. “Come in.”

Celegorm followed him into the hall, memories of his last visit crowding thick and fast. From the tight set of Oromë’s broad shoulders, he wasn’t the only one remembering. There was a light clicking on the wood floors, and Oromë’s huge grey wolfhound padded around the corner. He went straight to Celegorm and nosed into his hand.

“Hey, boy,” said Celegorm quietly, ruffling the grey fur. “Long time no see.”

Oromë led him into the kitchen and gestured to a chair. “You want anything to drink?”

“No,” said Celegorm, taking a seat. The wolfhound stretched out on the floor beside him. “I mean, a stiff whiskey wouldn’t hurt, but I don’t think that’s what you’re offering.” He smiled crookedly as Oromë hesitated. “That was a joke.”

Oromë sat opposite him, hands loose in his lap. Celegorm couldn’t help but drink him in, taking in every detail. The wide set of his shoulders, the scars on his neck and ear from his own rugby days, the callouses on his broad hands, god, how he loved those hands, how he loved the feel of them on him, brushing rough and hot over his skin, holding him as he rocked closer and closer to…

“How have you been?” Oromë asked, and Celegorm let out his breath in a rush, hoping the heat throbbing in his veins didn’t show on his face.

“What? Oh.” He shrugged. “Got a house with my brothers. Not super employed, but I take odd jobs here and there.”

Oromë nodded. “How’s – How has your leg healed?” There was something painful in his eyes, and Celegorm realized it was guilt.

“It’s fine,” he said, trying to sound bright and reassuring. “You know. I’m young and healthy. I did PT for a while, and now it’s pretty much as it was. I’m running and everything. It twinges a bit sometimes but,” he grinned and attempted to joke. “I kin always tell when a storm’s comin’.”

Oromë looked like he didn’t know whether to laugh or not, so Celegorm pushed on hurriedly. “How’s the team doing this year?”

“Fine,” said Oromë, but didn’t elaborate.

“Is there – ”

“Tyelko,” said Oromë, “Why did you come here?”

Celegorm looked at his hands, suddenly uncertain. Had this all been a terrible mistake? He fought a sudden urge to leap from his chair and bolt out of the house.

“Well?”

At his side, the dog gave a little huff and laid its head on Celegorm’s foot. He leaned down and ruffled its ears, feeling strangely comforted.

“I wanted to…apologize,” he said. “I, uh. I said some shitty things to you. And…I broke your door pretty badly.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I was pissed, but it was…kinda childish behavior.” He felt less anxious suddenly. It was good, to let the past spill out into the open.

Oromë seemed to think so too, because his posture loosened somewhat. “What a day,” he said, with grim humor. “I never thought I’d live to see you admitting to childish behavior.”

“Don’t get used to it,” said Celegorm, and coughed. “But I am sorry about breaking the glass.”

“It was a stupid thing to do,” said Oromë bluntly. “You could have badly injured yourself, something you seem…prone to. But that’s not to say,” he went on, as Celegorm made to speak, “that I don’t understand why you were angry.”

Celegorm chewed his lip. “You understand, do you?” There was skepticism in his voice.

“I too should apologize,” said Oromë, watching him with serious eyes. Celegorm shifted in his chair. Those fucking eyes… “I have done you a great disservice, Tyelko. I know I have caused you grief, and that was never my intent. I always wished only the best for you, of all people, and I failed.”

“You didn’t,” Celegorm began, but Oromë went on.

“I hurt you, in my own selfishness and self-doubt. I never wanted you to feel used. I never meant for you to feel rejected. I never meant for you to feel unwanted.”