第 61 页

Chapter Notes

0. This was originally almost 7k words long, but I decided to break some things out into the next chapter. It remains…about 4k words long.

1. Descriptions of school-related anxiety in the first scene.

Turgon’s alarm clock was set for early that morning, but he was jolted awake about 45 minutes early by something even more reliable than an alarm – the sizzling bolt of anxiety that cut straight into his subconscious and made his eyes snap open in a sudden panic, a feeling like cold fingers sifting through his gut.

You have three hundred pages of reading and that midterm next Tuesday to study for and that paper to annotate and that research project your advisor wanted you to do and that fellowship to apply to and the clinic rotation and there is no way you’re going to get it all done in time, no way no way no way –

He pushed himself out of bed, his heart beating unevenly in his chest as he fumbled for a sweatshirt to pull over his pajamas and tried to remember the breathing exercises his father had taught him.

Is it inhale for five seconds, hold for three, exhale for seven, or is it inhale for seven, hold for five, exhale for - ?

He grabbed his book bag and stepped out into the hall, past Bëor’s closed door and the half-open door of the spare room. On a whim, he stuck his head around the door and peeked in. A slim figure was curled under the quilt that Indis had given him for his last birthday, and as Turgon peeked closer, he saw that Finrod’s eyes were open and wakeful, and staring back at him.

Finrod blinked. “Good morning?”

“Oh. I didn’t think you’d be awake.”

Finrod smiled slightly. “And you thought you’d watch me sleeping for a while?”

“No! I just wanted to check – ”

“That I didn’t have another one of our cousins in here with me?”

“NO.” Turgon turned red. “I wanted to check on you, Ingo, don’t be a twit.”

“Sorry.” Finrod sat up, the blankets sliding off his shoulders. “I shouldn’t joke, I know. Thanks for checking in on me.”

“I didn’t think you’d be up this early.”

“I’m not up early so much as still awake very late.” Turgon saw now that there were deep shadows under Finrod’s eyes, and his skin was faintly grey with exhaustion.

“You couldn’t get to sleep?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“I’m sorry,” said Turgon, and meant it. He never liked seeing his friend looking so tired and sad – no matter that he probably deserved it. “Since I’m up, and you’re up, want some coffee? I was going to make a pot and then get started studying.”

“That sounds perfect,” said Finrod, in relief. “I actually have a book I need to be reading, so maybe I’ll join you on that whole ‘studying’ thing.”

Turgon brewed coffee while Finrod read aloud from the newspaper and they worked on a crossword together, getting in a heated debate over the correct spelling of the name of the calla lily family (Finrod turned out to be correct, to Turgon’s annoyance). Then they both settled in on the couch, Turgon with his notebooks and flashcards, Finrod with his book.

A peaceful sort of stillness fell over the quiet apartment then, and the rabbit-quick stutter of Turgon’s heart calmed to a steady thud, the cold fingers in his stomach stilling. Studying at Finrod’s side was so familiar that he felt himself sinking into a sort of rhythm with it, unconsciously inhaling at the same time as his cousin, turning pages with almost the same motion.

Around 7am, Bëor emerged from his room, shirtless and with his hair in a tangled ponytail, his eyes bleary, and shuffled into the bathroom. When he reemerged, face scrubbed and hair combed back into a neat bun, he drew up short as he glanced into the living room and noticed, for the first time, that they had a guest.

“Goldie! What are you doing here?”

Finrod looked up and smiled at his old roommate. “Hello, sorry for the surprise invasion. I, um, found myself reluctant to go back to my place last night, so Turno kindly offered your spare bedroom. I hope that was all right.”

“Of course!” Bëor grinned broadly. “It’s not like it’s the first time you’ve just turned up in the middle of the night.”

Finrod shook his head. “I still can’t believe that the first time we met you were so out of it you had no idea who I was.”

“I was drunk, it was midnight, you were all shiny-haired and preppy, and you were singing Neil Young. I was confused, okay? How was I supposed to know it was just my freshman roommate moving in?”

“Still, you saying, ‘Jesus, is that you?’ made NO sense.”

“You’re right, there. No way is Jesus blond.”

“Thank you,” said Turgon.

“Anyway, always good to have our favorite wiseass back around.”

Finrod groaned. “Oh, god. Bëor, no one has used that nickname in – ”

“Nickname?” asked Turgon with interest.

“You don’t remember this? Goldie here always knew every damn answer during orientation and would never shut up in any of the discussion sessions – and he ended up in a senior seminar his first semester at school. One of our professors would always say, ‘Ah yes, Arafinwion, very wise’, in response to every damn thing he said, we think he was probably in love with him. So both the kids on our floor and the seniors in his seminar started calling him Felagund the Wise, which became ‘Wiseass’ pretty fast. Our pretty little know-it-all wiseacre…”

“Oh, go get dressed,” said Finrod, with good-natured annoyance. “Pretty little know-it-all wiseacre yourself, you hairy oaf.”

Bëor slapped his well-furred chest and tipped Turgon a wink. “You know you love a man with a pelt, Felagund.”

“Yes, they make excellent faux bearskin rugs. Put some clothes on.”

Bëor headed back to his room, towel over his shoulder, whistling cheerfully, and Turgon and Finrod returned to their reading.

Finally, Turgon stretched out with a groan, his first real movement in almost an hour, his knees popping as he stretched his legs out fully and rested them in Finrod’s lap. Finrod lifted his book briefly to make room, then set it down again, propped against Turgon’s toes.

Bëor came out of his room fully dressed, and passed through the living room on his way out the door, pausing to ruffle up Finrod’s hair. “Seeing you buried in a book is giving me flashbacks to freshman year, nerd.”

“Trying to work while you invade my personal space is giving me flashbacks to you shotgunning beers on Wednesday nights, bro.”

“I never said there wasn’t a good reason I dropped out of college.” Bëor scrubbed up Finrod’s hair again affectionately, and as Finrod made an indignant noise and blew his bangs out of his eyes, he clapped Turgon on the shoulder. “Hey, by the way, I’m expecting a delivery today. Will you be around to sign for it?”

“For most of the day,” said Turgon, thinking. “I think. Wait, no, I have to go to the clinic later on.”

“I can stick around for it,” volunteered Finrod. “I’m not quite ready to go home yet anyway,” he said, dropping his eyes, as Turgon and Bëor looked at him curiously.

“Stay as long as you need to,” said Bëor, and Turgon nodded.

“What’s the delivery?” asked Finrod, changing the subject.

Bëor’s face lit up. “It’s a care package from my lady.”

“You have a lady?”

Bëor clasped his hands together rapturously. “The grandest lady in all the world, my child. She is brilliant and funny and lord, she has an ass that won’t quit.”

“Very important,” said Turgon and Finrod together.

“Where is this goddess among women?” asked Finrod, setting his book upside down over Turgon’s legs. “Do I know her?”

“Careful, Bëor, don't give him any ideas,” muttered Turgon, and Finrod looked at him in astonishment.

“Was that sass, Nolofinwion? Was that a burn?”

“I am capable of it, you know,” said Turgon, pulling his notebook close to his nose to try and decipher his own handwriting, and pushing his feet into Finrod’s stomach.

“Oof. Anyway, not for any lecherous intent, Bëor, where is your ladyfriend that she’s sending you care packages?”

“We’ve been in a long-distance relationship for…two years now,” said Bëor, tugging on his work boots. “She works on a military base in California as a medic. She’s got two more years to serve.”

Finrod made a noise of sympathy. “That’s rough.”

“It’s okay,” said Bëor, straightening up and grabbing his carhartt from the hook by the door. “We’ve got an arrangement worked out so we can survive five years not sharing a bed, and when she comes to visit next time she’s on leave…” he grinned, his eyes twinkling. “I’m gonna propose to her.”

“No!” said Turgon and Finrod together, delighted.

Bëor pointed at them. “If you two keep doing that speaking at the same time thing, it’s gonna get creepy fast. Goldie, if you really do wait around for that delivery, stick around for dinner tonight, I’ll cook for you. You need some meat on your bones, and my pierogies will fatten you up until you’re round and pink and delightful.”

“I’m always delightful,” said Finrod, as Turgon asked hopefully, “Will you cook for me, too?”

“Of course, muffin.” Bëor waved and stepped out the door. “Don’t study too hard, bubbelehs! Am I using that term correctly, Turno?”

“Close enough,” said Turgon, flicking a flashcard at Finrod. “Say hi to my brother for me, and see you tonight.”

* * *

Haleth’s alarm went off and she whimpered, reaching out to mute her phone. “Nng, nooo.”

Shoving the phone under her pillow, she wriggled down in the blankets, pressing back against the warm body behind her. Someone sleepily wrapped an arm around her waist, and she gave a murmur of contentment, curling back into Lalwen’s arms. She was nearly asleep again before she realized that it couldn’t be Lalwen holding her, as the body behind her prominently possessed something that she was quite sure Lalwen lacked.

With a squeak, Haleth flailed at the blankets and rolled out of bed, dropping heavily to the floor.

From the other bed, Andreth groaned. “Haleth, what are you doing?”

“Help,” said Haleth, from under the bed. “What’s in my bed?”

“It’s Caranthir, you idiot,” said Andreth, and pulled her pillow over her head. “Now please shut up, I have half an hour more to sleep.”

Haleth crawled out from under the bed, blinking dazedly, and stuck her head over the mattress. The gangly, dark-haired figure who had taken advantage of her precipitate exit to steal her pillow was quite clearly not Lalwen, but Lalwen’s nephew.

“Moryo,” she hissed.

Caranthir burrowed into the blankets, tightening his grip on Haleth’s pillow. “Go th’fuck away.”

Haleth grabbed a handful of blankets and pulled, but Caranthir just rolled over, pinning the blankets in place. She gave up and clambered back into bed, wedging her feet against Caranthir’s back and pushing until he scooted over. “Twin extra long beds are not good for sharing,” she grumbled. “There’s a reason I never used to bring girls back to my room if I could help it…”

“Shut up,” said Andreth and Caranthir together, muffled and sleepy.

Haleth wrinkled her nose and leaned down so she could whisper in Caranthir’s ear. “You get half an hour more then we’re getting up and going for breakfast and we’re gonna talk, got it?”

“Mph. Got it. Go ‘way.”

-

“So there are three things we need to discuss.” Haleth counted on her fingers as she and Caranthir made their way down the sidewalk to Cuiviénen. “One: Sharing a bed isn’t working out. I love you, but I love having room to spread out more, and I swear, I thought part of my lesbian contract was never having to deal with morning wood.”

“I said I was sorry about that.”

“It’s okay, I get that these things are natural and involuntary and all a part of the circle of life, or whatever. But it’s a really unexpected awakening, y’know? Thing two: You haven’t been home in three days. Don’t you need access to your stuff? Are you planning on going back anytime soon?”

“No.”

“But – ”

“I’m not going back there. I don’t want to see him.” Caranthir shoved his hands into his pockets and scowled at the ground. “I don’t want to know that he’s upstairs from me all the time, and I don’t want to know if F- anyone starts coming over to see him. I don’t want to see or hear him or know anything about him, because I swear, I’m going to hit him if I do.”

“I hear that,” said Haleth, shuffling her feet and bumping against Caranthir’s side in a companionable way. “Part of me wants to tell you to just go hit him and you’ll feel better, but violence isn’t the answer, blah blah, and also I don’t think it would make you feel better.”

“So what’s the third thing?” Caranthir pushed open the door to Cuiviénen, instinctively looking to the counter for a familiar, red-bandana’ed figure – who wasn’t there.

“Right.” Haleth dropped her jacket onto the back of a chair to claim them a table. “Let’s get some drinks and then we’ll talk about thing the third.”

Settled with their coffees and a communal croissant, Haleth and Caranthir wedged their bags under the table and Haleth dove into the part of the conversation she’d been bracing for. “Moryo, you’re my best friend, and I’m here for you 100%, you know that?”

“Yeah.” Caranthir shredded a piece of croissant, then looked up at her, his dark eyes suddenly surprised. “Wait, I’m your best friend?”

“You didn’t know that?”

“No.”

“Oh.” Haleth rescued a scrap of croissant from Caranthir’s destructive fingers and ate it. “Yes. I mean, mostly because I’m assuming you’ll grow out of being a libertarian at some point, and with that little character flaw taken care of, you’re pretty much exactly the kind of person I like best.”

Predictably, Caranthir blushed, and took a quick swig of coffee to cover his embarrassment. “Y’r a g’d fren too,” he mumbled.

Haleth smiled, a little embarrassed herself. “Okay, now that we’ve got that established…Moryo, it’s not going to work for you to stay in my room much longer. If it was just me, you’d totally be welcome, but I have a roommate, and a very small bed, and it’s just not feasible long-term. I get why you don’t want to go home, but my dorm room isn’t the answer.” Caranthir looked down at his plate, and Haleth cringed, feeling terrible. “I’m really, really sorry.”

“Nah, I get it,” said Caranthir, still not meeting her eyes. “I just dunno where else to go. Going back to my parents would be fucking hell, and I don’t really have other friends…”

“Hang on,” said Haleth suddenly. “Yeah, you do. And you have other family, too.”

Caranthir stared at her. “If you’re talking about my cousins, I don’t think – ”

“Not your cousins. Your aunt.”

“My aunt – My aunt, your girlfriend?”

Haleth shrugged. “She was your aunt first. And hey, don’t tell anyone, but you’re totally her favorite nephew.”

“You…you think she’d be okay with me staying with her?”

“Haven’t you stayed with her before?”

“Well, yeah, but that was before. I kinda flipped at her a bit over…”

“Me,” supplied Haleth. “I’m really sorry about that, again, by the way. But come on, Lalwen doesn’t hold grudges, and I know she’d really like to see you again, and she’s not even far from campus!”