第 64 页

mightyvoice@gmail.com: Really?

dairon@cirth.net: Yeah. He liked your vocals too, he says we should do more harmonizing. We actually think we wanna go back and rerecord like half the album to incorporate you into it.

mightyvoice@gmail.com: SERIOUSLY?

dairon@cirth.net: YEAH. Haven’t we always been killer together　 Come on, Mags, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. They want you on the album. I want you on the album! I shoulda invited you ages ago, tbh, I can’t believe I didn’t think of it.

mightyvoice@gmail.com: Well, the label only wanted you, to start.

dairon@cirth.net: You’re not gonna get bitter over that NOW, are you? I thought we were past this.

mightyvoice@gmail.com: We are, we are. I’m just trying to catch up. I really do need to go home by the end of the week though. Can I do the recording in the next couple days?

dairon@cirth.net: Are you kidding? Bro, this is us redoing the whole album. This is quality studio time and we can’t rush it, we’ve gotta do it right. Not to mention I’ve got a live gig coming up and I want you to perform with me.

mightyvoice@gmail.com: …

dairon@cirth.net: Mags.

mightyvoice@gmail.com: I heard you. I’m trying not to die over here.

dairon@cirth.net: EXACTLY. THIS IS BIG. You can’t leave yet or you’ll totally blow this chance

mightyvoice@gmail.com: Ok, but Dai, you might be able to take as much time as you want to ‘do this right’, but YOU’RE on contract. YOU’RE getting paid to be here. I’m actually losing money this week – and if I stay much longer, I will def get fired.

dairon@cirth.net: The label will pay you. What are you making at Cuivienen?

mightyvoice@gmail.com: $11/hour + tips

dairon@cirth.net: hahahahha YEAH you should stay.

mightyvoice@gmail.com: But

dairon@cirth.net: Shhhh no stop. You’ve gotta stop talking yourself out of this. You can stay with me as long as it takes, we can buy you new underwear or whatever if you’re worried about running out of clothes

mightyvoice@gmail.com: Or we could do laundry

dairon@cirth.net: SEE THE POSSIBILITIES ARE ENDLESS

mightyvoice@gmail.com: …okay let me talk to my brother and I’ll get back to you.

dairon@cirth.net: you’d be crazy to turn this down

mightyvoice@gmail.com: I know.

dairon@cirth.net: Oh, and hey, we’re thinking we want a female vocalist on that song you and I worked on the other night. Is that Ria chick still around?

Chapter End Notes

1. By the time this story next updates, I will have leveled up a whole year! I've got good feelings about 26, guys.

Don't you dare look back

Chapter Summary

Just keep your eyes on me

Chapter Notes

0. Relationship talks happen. So do make outs.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

“So how’s the famed merger of Blue Hills Distillery and Foundry Brewing going?” Lalwen tipped back in her chair, holding her coffee mug level to keep it from spilling.

Telchar propped her elbows on the table and rested her chin in one hand. “Do you mean, how is it going merging the tiny finances of my tiny company with the negative finances of my cousin’s even tinier company?”

“Yes, that.”

“Can’t complain.” Telchar tapped her fingers against her cheek. “Literally. Can’t afford to, so I won’t. Thank god Azaghâl and I have always gotten along, otherwise being business partners might be tricky, and we don’t need any more tension at Shabbat dinners. Great uncle Durin is tense enough for all of us, god knows.” She shot a curious look across the table, where Caranthir was bent over a stack of papers, frowning deeply and muttering to himself, his dark brows drawn together as he made notes. “Any thoughts so far?” she asked hopefully.

“How have you gone this long without a real accountant? Your books are balls.”

Telchar winces. “That bad?”

“Terrible. And you’re overpaying your distributor.”

Telchar groaned. “I know it’s not ideal, but we really can’t afford a CPA, and neither of us quite has the talent or bandwidth to be meticulous with our accounts while simultaneously running a start-up.” She eyed him across the table suddenly, her brown eyes thoughtful and appraising. “Listen, we’re very small and still not profitable, so we couldn’t pay professional accountant fees – but you’ve got a good head for this. Do you have any interest in doing some work on our books? I might not be able to pay you as much as a CPA, but I promise it’ll be more than any campus job or waiting tables.”

“Ooh.” Lalwen sat up, looking interested. “Job offers happening at my kitchen table! See, living with me is full of good opportunities.”

“Huh.” Caranthir thought for a while, studying Telchar. She had her arms crossed as she leaned forward on the table, the dragon on her collarbones shifting with her movement. Caranthir found himself distracted by it, the flex and spread of its wings against her skin. He dragged his eyes upward again. “Yeah, I think I could do that.”

Telchar slapped the table, delighted, and Lalwen whooped. “That’s excellent news!”

“I want a contract, though,” said Caranthir firmly, “and I might have some demands. Okay, no, I definitely have demands.”

Lalwen groaned softly. “Moryo, quit while you’re ahead.”

“No, no.” Telchar waved a hand at Lalwen. “Demands are good! Don’t let me take advantage of you, get your full worth! That’s exactly the kind of thing I like to hear from someone I’m entrusting with my financial matters.” She reached across the table to clasp Caranthir’s hand. “This looks like the start of a beautiful relationship.”

“Guess so. So should I send you a list, or what?”

There was a tap on the door and Lalwen swung herself upright to get it. “Halloo? Who’s there? Which – Oh, hello, Ingo.” She stepped aside so that Caranthir could see past her to where Finrod was standing in the doorway. “Was I expecting you? Not that I’m sorry to see you, you know I collect nephews.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t let you know ahead of time,” said Finrod. “I heard that Carnistir was staying with you, and I was hoping to…” His eyes fell on Caranthir. “…talk to him.”

Lalwen glanced over her shoulder. “Does he want to talk to you, though?”

Caranthir pushed himself up. “Yeah, whatever. It’s okay, I’ll talk to him.”

“Okay.” Lalwen stepped smartly aside and then grabbed Telchar, who was watching with interest, by the arm and tugged her into the other room. “We’ll just be…elsewhere, hm?”

Soon the kitchen was empty but for the two of them. They stayed standing, a distinct awkwardness between them, Finrod twisting his hands as he had that afternoon in Caranthir’s room, before seeming to force himself to drop them to his sides.

Caranthir regarded him. To his slight surprise, he didn’t feel much of anything but a faint resignation. “So. What now?”

“I wanted to say…” said Finrod, so softly that Caranthir could barely hear him.

“What?” Caranthir cocked his head, and Finrod drew himself up and shook his head, as if banishing his reluctance. He met Caranthir’s gaze straight on, and when he spoke, his voice was very clear.

“I’ve behaved terribly towards you, and I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, that.” Caranthir shrugged. “Whatever. You don’t have to do this, you know.”

“I do. I owe you an apology, Carnistir.”

Caranthir glanced towards the other room, which was suspiciously quiet. “Fine, you’ve apologized, then. I’m not pissed at you, Ingo. It was never gonna last, right, and I’m not broken up over that.”

“But your brother – ”

Now anger did rattle through Caranthir, and he narrowed his eyes. “The best way to keep me from getting pissed is to not mention my fucking brother, okay?”

“Understood,” said Finrod softly.

“Is that all?” Caranthir made to turn away. “I’ll see you around, Findaráto.”

“Wait. There’s also something I need you to know.” Finrod reached out and laid his hands on Caranthir’s shoulders, pulling him around so they were face to face. Finrod looked him squarely in the eye. “I didn’t sneak around on you because I was bored with you, or because I didn’t find you attractive enough, or because I stopped liking you.”

“Sure.”

“I’m serious, Carnistir. I need you to know that you are someone I’ve always liked, and still like – and that you are devastatingly hot and you are insanely good in bed. Mind-blowing, really.”

Caranthir felt his eyes bug out of his head as he goggled at Finrod, who wasn’t done. “And for the record, I’ve always found you hot. The first night we hooked up, it was partially because I’d been crushed out on you for ages.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.” Finrod smiled crookedly. “I think we probably wouldn’t do terribly well as a couple – ”

“I don’t date guys.”

“ – that being a big part of it, but Carnistir, I really, really enjoyed spending time with you. It was a pleasure…in every sense.”

“Well.” Caranthir put his hands in his pockets and tried not to look surprised. “Thanks, I s’pose.”

Finrod hesitated, and Caranthir recognized the look as the one Finrod wore when there was more he wanted to say. This time, he didn’t make the mistake of nudging him impatiently to speak.

He waited.

“I’ll understand if you don’t want to see much of me anymore,” said Finrod at last. “I’m working on being more thoughtful of people’s wishes, and given the circumstances, I can understand you might not want to see me in certain contexts.” He paused again, and the specter of Caranthir’s younger brother hung between them, as clearly as if Curufin was leaning up against the table, arms folded, watching them with a smirk on his lips. Caranthir blinked, and shook Curufin’s presence away. “So I’m going to do my best to not put you in that situation.”

“Okay.”

Finrod took a deep breath and smiled wanly. “Thanks for letting me say my bit. I know you aren’t obligated to listen to a word I say, so I appreciate this – I’m not deluded enough not to realize my apology is as much for my conscience as it is for making right, so thank you for indulging me. Take care, Carnistir.”

He was halfway to the door when Caranthir unfolded himself from the counter and followed him. “Wait.” He reached out and caught Finrod’s shoulder. Finrod looked up at him. “Look, you acted like a toad, but I wasn’t exactly some stellar example either. I didn’t care that you were cheating on Amarië, and honestly, I was mostly worried that when she broke up with you you’d try to turn me into your boyfriend and all I wanted was a fuckbuddy. I liked it better when I knew you had a girlfriend, because it got me off the hook, and that doesn’t say a whole lot good about me. Anyway, I dunno if you should date anyone, given your track record, and I really don’t wanna talk about who you might be dating now, but…I had fun with you too. I don’t, like, regret it.” He took a breath, aware that this was far longer than he usually spoke. “D’you…d’you think it would be possible for us to still be friends?”

Finrod smiled, a genuinely happy and grateful smile, and it lit up his whole face. “I’d like that very much.”

“Mind you, I’m gonna stop selling you discounted weed.”

“I don’t think you’ve ever made me pay for weed.”

“Right,” said Caranthir. “So expect some price shock.”

Finrod laughed, and on a whim, Caranthir leaned forward and kissed him. Finrod kissed him back, still smiling, and when they broke apart, Caranthir knew it was over – but his spirits were surprisingly light.

* * *

Even though it was the busiest time of year for his students, Finrod found his schedule unexpectedly open, and as he walked home from Lalwen’s apartment he lifted his face to the warm April sun, enjoying the breeze playing through his hair and the sight of tulips blooming along the sidewalk. All too soon he’d be burdened with piles of final exams to grade, but just now he’d turned in the most recent draft of his proposal and was just waiting to hear back from his advisor. He was therefore in the rare position of having to wait before he could do anything else.

However, just because schoolwork wasn’t taking over his list of to dos didn’t mean there weren’t other things he should deal with. One, at least, was behind him now, in Lalwen’s sunny kitchen, and he felt a mixed swoop of relief and melancholy to think that what he and Caranthir had had was well and truly over.

But there was one more call he needed to make. He pulled out his phone and dialed, crossing his fingers that the person he was calling had finally gotten a new phone.

-

An hour later, back at Bëor and Turgon’s place, Finrod opened the door and Curufin was standing there, effortlessly cool and unruffled, his dark peacoat buttoned all the way up despite the mild spring day. He looked as unflustered as he had sounded on the phone, when he’d answered brusquely and in barely more than monosyllables. “What? Yes. Of course, how else would I have picked up? No. It’s an old one I found in my desk from a year ago. No, not at all, and it looks like hell. But it will do for now.” But his last monosyllables, at least, had borne out what Finrod had hoped for: “Yes, fine. I’ll see you there.”

And here he was.

Curufin looked appraisingly around the apartment as he stepped in, hands in his pockets, his sharp grey eyes taking everything in. “So this is where that union rep lives. I have to say I’m surprised Turukáno chose to live here of all places, considering his brother and father do battle with the unions on a regular basis.”

“Less battle than a careful diplomatic dance, I’d say,” said Finrod, closing the door behind him, and not saying, not like when your father was in charge. Curufin seemed to sense the unspoken addition, though, and narrowed his eyes at Finrod briefly.

“So. Neither of them are here, I suppose?”

“No, just us.”

Finrod had asked Bëor the night before, surprisingly embarrassed to do so.

“Would it be okay,” he’d said softly, not meeting Bëor’s eyes, “if I invited Curufin over here tomorrow? I truly don’t mean to overstep your hospitality, but I would really like to talk somewhere where neither of our siblings are likely to...intrude.”

“This gonna be a sex thing?” asked Bëor, eying Finrod.

“No,” said Finrod, shaking his head. “No, for so many reasons. We really just need to talk. I can explain more later, but this is…” He trailed off, honestly unsure what he was trying to say.

Bëor filled in his silence. “This is the kid you’re involved with. The kid you’re in l – ”

“Please don’t,” said Finrod, a trace of desperation in his voice. “I don’t know what we are yet, but I need to sort it out, I need to talk to him, and I need to start being better at this.” He broke off and stared down at the floor, suddenly wracked with anxiety. “I need to not ruin this. For once.”

Bëor's expression softened and he laid a large, comforting hand on Finrod's shoulder. “Best of luck then, Goldie. Lemme know if I can help, but yeah, go ahead. Invite your, ah, Curufin over tomorrow. Turno and I will be out all day.”

“Thank you.”

Now Curufin was looking at him, a trace of wariness in his expression. “Well?”