第 62 页

Caranthir rested his chin in his hand, looking thoughtful instead of angry and preoccupied for the first time in days. “Huh. Yeah. Let’s do that.”

* * *

Curufin crossed to his bureau and rummaged for a sweater to pull on over his shirt. His hand lit on his charcoal grey wool sweater, the one he wore the most – but then he paused. Caranthir had given him the sweater two Christmases ago, with his usual shrug like he couldn’t care less as he'd explained, It’s merino wool so it won’t itch, and I know you don’t like bright colors. He’d knit it in the evenings, after his homework was done, Celegorm told him later, and had obsessed over the cables. It hadn’t consciously become Curufin’s favorite sweater, but it fit well, and, as advertised, didn’t itch, and he liked how it heightened the contrast between his skin and his hair and his eyes, and somehow it had become his favorite sweater, without him really thinking about it. But now…

Curufin realized he’d been staring at the sweater for a solid minute, his eyesight blurring as he lost focus. Blinking rapidly and tightening his lips, he fisted a hand in the sweater and shoved it into the back of his drawer, out of sight. Part of him wanted to throw it away, into the trashcan where the pieces of his electronics had been swept, but for some reason his hand refused to follow that particular command. So out of sight it went, and instead he grabbed a navy sweater that Finrod had once said made his eyes look almost blue.

He pulled it on and went downstairs, the house creaking and sighing with the weight of all the people who weren’t there. He thought about calling out to see if Celegorm was home, but the gesture felt terribly desperate, somehow, and so he bit his tongue, and tried not to listen to the heavy silence of the house.

It hadn’t been this empty in years.

He reached instinctively for his phone, wanting, suddenly, to call Finrod very badly, but then he remembered that his phone was in the trash with the rest of his broken electronics. His hand dropped to his side and he drew in a deep breath. “Stop being such a child,” he said, aloud, and stepped into a patch of sunlight.

* * *

From: “Makalaurë F.” <mightyvoice@gmail.com>

To: “Maitimo F.” <nelyafinwe@finwecorp.com>

Subject: Checking in from NYC (resisting urge to break into theme from Annie, don’t laugh)

Dear Nelyo,

Well, it’s been three days (four?) and I think I’m going to like NYC. I know that’s not original – ‘barista with musical aspirations goes to Manhattan, LIKES IT’ is hardly a headline – but I really do feel like there’s just a ton of possibility here. And also it’s just plain cool.

I was weirdly worried about seeing Daeron again, but do you have those friends who you can go like a year without talking to, and then you see them, and it’s like no time has passed? That’s apparently me and Daeron, which is a relief. I think I resent him more from a distance than I do in person. In person I remember all the things I like about him, and the things that bother me seem a lot less important. He looks a bit different: he’s grown his hair out (hm WONDER WHERE HE GOT THAT IDEA FROm – ok, no, I know I’m being petty already) and he wears clothes that are all Brooklyn Hipster Chic (or at least that’s what Ria calls it), but he’s still Daeron, still the kid I’ve been friends with for fifteen years, and he’s been super friendly and welcoming. I’m staying in his apartment and the first night we stayed up til like 3am playing together, like old times. I mean, a good part of me staying up was also because I’d just called Moryo to check in, and…well, you know. You talked to me after. Anyway, needless to say it was hard to sleep while I was that worked up, so I was awake and Daeron just brought out his guitar and we played for the next three hours. Then we slept in til about 1 and headed out into the city.

It’s so BIG, Nelyo, it’s…scary and exciting, all at once. It’s kind of like the ocean. You know how you can stand on the shore and watch the waves come in and it’s simultaneously ‘this is beautiful and awe inspiring and incredible’ and ‘this thing is so much more powerful than I am and could kill me in an instant’ and you just end up rooted to the spot, half thrilled and half terrified? The city feels like that.

I know we came here when we were younger and dad was spending time traveling more, but you really get a new perspective when you’re not surrounded by family and your main focus isn’t Times Sq or the Broadway production of Phantom. I get glimpses of all the little details now, the back alleys and side streets and interesting neighborhoods and quirky people and seriously, I can’t stop writing. I actually started writing in the car on the way up until Ria told me she needed me to navigate and possibly sing the pig song again – long story, I’ll get into it later – so I’ve got like 3 verses of SOMETHING on a napkin in my guitar case…and I feel like music is just pouring out of me. CLICHÉ AGAIN just put me out of my misery.

But enough about me. How are you doing? How’s work? Ria says the kids love you – no surprise, we always did – and that you’ve got a couple shadows who would follow you everywhere if it was allowed. No adopting any new little siblings, we have enough! Though, I suppose you could just straight up adopt some kids now…give Findekáno a surprise ;-)

And okay, how’s Moryo? Have you talked to him? I’ve been texting with him some but after that night where we talked for a long time I haven’t heard much…do you know if he’s been back to the house? Do you know if he and Curvo have interacted at all?

I really shouldn’t be as mad at Curvo as I am. I know you feel like he’s just a kid dealing with his first crush (sorry, I refuse to call it a ‘relationship’) and being immature about it, not blatantly trying to hurt anyone, but I dunno…I’m just pissed. Pissed pissed pissed. About all of it. Maybe I’m pissed at myself for having fun in NYC when I should be back there helping sort shit out.

I don’t want to leave yet – things are only getting started – but I wish I were there with Moryo. Or I wish I could bring Moryo here with me. I just want everything to be okay for him. God, it’s just the three of them in that house right now, or not even, if Moryo is staying away. How is Tyelko handling it all　? Have you checked in with him? Because damn, he’s still dealing with all the stuff with Orome and dad – any updates on that, either? – and he’s not the greatest at handling this sort of thing at the best of times.

Listen, this might be totally overstepping, but: would you mind spending some time over there? Even (if Findekáno is ok with it) spending a couple nights? Just…keep an eye on them. I know Tyelko is more responsible than we give him credit for, but Curvo’s always going to be his priority and I don’t want Moryo to fall off the radar. I want someone to be looking out for ALL of them. And I know you are already, of course you are, but I’m just feeling guilty that I’m not there, and ARGH. Is this how you feel all the time　 This weird feeling of duty and responsibility and like you can’t SHAKE this whole big brother identity no matter what? No wonder it took you so long to finally move out….

How’s Findekáno, by the way? Work going alright for him? Remember that he tends to look cheerful even when he’s stressed out, and he usually prioritizes other people’s drama over his own. So it might be hard to notice things when our own family is fucking exploding, but make sure you check in with him. Curvo said something last week about layoffs at the company that raised some red flags for me…

sorry, shit, didn’t mean to lecture you on your own boyfriend. You obvs know all this already and are probably on it. I just don’t want you to blow it again! jk jk I have total faith in you (kinda)

I miss you. sigh. I wish you were here. Except also I’m glad you’re back in beleriand to keep an eye on everyone. Except mostly I wish none of the bad shit was happening, and you and I could explore NYC and just not worry for once.

I’m being maudlin now, ignore me.

I should go. Dai and I are going to meet Ria and her friend for a happy hour. Take care, big brother.

Love,

Káno

(…Yeah, I’m signing it ‘love’ even though I can hear Tyelko telling me ‘that’s gay’ from here. Make sure he understands the irony of that statement.)

PS how do you still have a finwecorp email address? is it one of the perks of banging the vp　

Keep it calm with the fast pace

Chapter Summary

Gathering up loose threads, starting others unspooling.

Chapter Notes

0. Includes two text conversations, an email, and a chat. I am sorry I am suddenly overly excited by 21st century communications, just be glad I resisted the urge to throw some snapchats in here. Especially since they would definitely be nsfw shapchats.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

hey babe. guess what?

What?

my family has implodeddd

What does that mean? Is everyone okay? What happened?

my little brothers ended up in a love triangle.

with our cousin.

i think i can picture your expression rn.

…

orome? you there?

Yes. Processing. How is everyone doing?

curvos pretending nothing happened and moryo won’t come home.

HURRAH it looks like i am no longer the one with the most complicated love life

Jesus. When it rains it pours…

Yea no shit.

anyway…i’d kill to see you, but i kinda want to stick around the house.

Understandable. Your family should come first.

i wanna make a joke about that

Don’t

how bout you come over here and make ME come first?

Some day I’m going to learn to just not set these things up for you.

i’m actually serious. come over?

I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I wouldn’t want to make your brothers uncomfortable.

it’s just curvo. and if the kid is gonna pretend nothings going on,

he can pretend i’m not fucking my boyfriend across the hall from him.

Is there an emoticon that expresses extreme discomfort?

i’ll show u if u come over here

Let me think about it. I have to call Nessa before it gets much later, anyway, can I call you after?

sure. but if ur gonna make me wait, send dick pics.

Nope.

PLS

Love you, bye

OROME

gdi

Oromë leaned against the windowsill and dialed his sister’s number. He’d been promising to call her ever since the story about him and Celegorm had broken, but what with one thing and another, they kept missing each other. He half wondered if the reason she hadn’t come to see him in person had anything to do with the fact that her husband was the chief of police, and couldn’t be seen to be involved with this kind of scandal. But he dismissed the idea; he and Tulkas had been as close as brothers for years, and Tulkas never gave much thought to reputations anyway.

The phone rang.

“Is that you?” Nessa’s soft, musical voice floated down the line, and Oromë tilted his head against the window.

“Yes, it’s me.”

“Goodness, I thought we might be playing phone tag for the next month or so.” She sounded amused, but he could also pick up on the concern underlying her tone. “It’s good to hear your voice.”

She worried about him, he knew – it was her job, she had said once, as his older sister, to think of all the worst-case scenarios he could end up in and then try to keep him out of them. He thought he’d gotten most of those worst-case scenarios out of the way in his teens and twenties – how many times had she bailed him out, or patched him up, or helped him keep his secrets from their parents? But now, after more than a decade of stable responsibility and his life in order, Nessa was once again speaking in that gentle voice that nevertheless was as commanding as a drill sergeant’s, trying to work out what was salvageable from Oromë’s mistakes.

“Vána called me and said she has you connected with a lawyer. Now, I’m sure whomever you have is very competent, but there’s another name I can give you, someone who’s actually taken on Fëanor in court before, and I’d urge you to consider…”

“I’m fine, Nessa, but thank you.”

“Are you doing that thing you do?”

“What thing do I do?”

“That thing where you don’t fight as hard as you should on your own behalf because you secretly think you deserve the punishment? I know masochism runs in the family, but honestly, if you’re not going to muster all the resources you possibly can, I’m going to do it for you.”

“You haven’t told me what you think yet.”

“What I think of what? The lawyer? I think you should do it, and I can tell you why–”

“No, about all of this. About this…situation.”

Nessa fell silent, and Oromë could picture her as clearly as if she was pacing in front of him. She would be standing in her sunlit kitchen, almost as tall as he and straight-backed and elegant, leaning against the island as though it was the barre of her studio, rolling out her ankles one at a time in the way she did when she was restless.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said at last. “What’s done is done and now we just need to sort it all out.”

“I’m asking you what you think, Nessa.”

“I think I am your sister, and I love you, and I am here for you.”

“And?”

Nessa sighed and Oromë could feel a shift in the atmosphere. “And…”

“It’s okay, you can say it.”

“What were you thinking? Oromë, what was the point of this elaborate charade with Vána if you were going to throw the whole thing away for something like this? Could you have chosen a more explosive way to out yourself? Couldn’t you at least have waited until the boy graduated, or was no longer your player, and my god, could it have been anyone but the son of one of the most litigious and antagonistic men in the city at that – Little brother, have you lost your mind?”

“It would be a much better excuse if I had, wouldn’t it?”

Nessa drew in a deep breath, and Oromë could see her closing her eyes and composing herself until her expression was as calm and beatific as when she took the stage. He waited.

“Was it worth it?” she asked, finally, and Oromë blinked, surprised.

“Yes,” he said, honestly. “Yes, he is worth it. I am happy, Nessa.”

“Then that’s that,” said Nessa crisply. “Now, will you be around for dinner next week?”

Their conversation came easier after that, as though they had untangled a knot in the line connecting them, until a car pulled up before Oromë’s house and he broke off mid-sentence as a red-haired woman got out. “I – I’m going to have to call you back, Nessa.”

“Why’s that?”

“Tyelkormo’s mother just showed up at my house.”

-

Every other time Oromë had encountered Nerdanel, she had been bright-eyed and laughing, lively and expressive beside her husband’s dark intensity. It had been her humor, and the way she laughed, that had always put Oromë in mind of Celegorm, and that had made him seem far more his mother’s son than his father’s.

But now Nerdanel’s expressive mouth was set in a tight line, and her eyes – the same shade of brown as Celegorm’s – were cold and distant. Her bright hair, which she usually wore in an unruly pile on top of her head, was twisted severely back, and if Celegorm had been there, he would have identified it as Nerdanel’s ‘going into battle’ look – reserved for lunches with art critics and funders, or reticent PTA boards.