Chapter Text
“I can’t see you anymore.”
He wouldn’t let himself look at Fingon, he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t…
He raised his eyes.
Fingon had gone very pale, and his hands were clenched together before him. “Why?”
Maedhros swallowed. “You know why. After everything that’s happened – I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Why?” demanded Fingon again. He was looking straight at Maedhros now, and his eyes were bright with anger. “Did your dad put you up to this?”
“No.” Maedhros wrapped his fingers together helplessly. There are things you can say at times like these; say them. “It’s just not working anymore. We’re not – I don’t think we’re compatible – ”
“Oh, cut the bullshit,” said Fingon. He was shaking now, but his voice was steady. “This is about your father.”
Fine.
“Yes.” Maedhros clenched his jaw. “That’s part of it, yes. I can’t be loyal to my father and still be with you.” There. The truth.
“That’s such a pile of shit,” spat Fingon. “What does that have to do with us?”
“Everything,” said Maedhros, feeling a flicker of anger of his own. “You know it does.”
“I’m not my father, and you’re not yours,” said Fingon. “How many times do we have to have this argument? We can leave the whole company thing out of it, it doesn’t have to determine us.”
“Don’t be so naive,” said Maedhros. “How can our fathers’ situation not affect us? You think I don’t care that Nolofinwë has taken over where - ”
“I can’t believe you’re the one getting angry.” Fingon laughed. “Christ, what irony. If anyone should be pissed here, it’s me. My dad’s the one who almost got killed when some supporter of your father’s tried to assassinate him.”
“My father had nothing to do with that,” said Maedhros tightly. “As I’ve told you, many times.”
“Oh, really?”
“Really!” Maedhros clenched his fists. “You’re just proving my point, Findekáno. Of course we can’t keep on like this – How many times are we going to have this same fight? How could you possibly want to be with me if you believe my father tried to have yours killed?”
“Because I love you!” snarled Fingon. “I love you, you asshole, and I don’t care about politics or family or anything else!”
“It’s not enough,” said Maedhros, and Fingon flinched back as though he’d been struck.
“Not enough?” He stared at Maedhros. “Not enough that I love you? I’ve loved you for four years, Mae, and I finally thought maybe you loved me too. Was I wrong?”
“No,” said Maedhros, and looked away. “I did.”
“But now?”
Maedhros closed his eyes. Do it. “Not anymore.”
“Liar.” Fingon’s voice was shaking now too. “Liar. Look me in the eye, Maitimo. Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t love me.”
“I don’t – ”
“Look at me.”
Maedhros couldn’t. Instead he stared fixedly at the floor as he said quietly, “I don’t love you. Not enough to make this work.”
Fingon took a shaky breath. “I don’t believe you.”
“It’s over.” Maedhros stood up, refusing to look at Fingon trembling before him. “It’s been over for months, really, I was just deluding myself that we could… Anyway. You’ll be better off without me.” He swallowed. “I’ll be better off without you.”
Fingon let out a small, broken noise at that, and something in Maedhros keened in agony.
Keep going.
“Goodbye, Findekáno.”
-
He barely made it out the door before his strength failed him and he collapsed against the wall of the dorm hallway, shaking from head to toe, feeling as though someone had punched him in the gut. He bent over at the waist, wrapping his arms around himself, struggling to breathe.
Leave, leave, you coward, get out...
But he couldn’t move, couldn’t catch his breath, couldn’t stop thinking about Fingon sitting there on the edge of the bed, looking so lost and hurt, the anguish in his eyes…
Leave, leave, leave, his brain chanted, but he was rooted to the spot.
Almost without realizing what he was doing, he reached for the doorknob again, just as the door was yanked open from the inside.
Fingon’s furious gaze fell on him.
“Coward,” he spat. “I knew you were lying.”
“Findekáno,” whispered Maedhros, and reached for him.
Fingon pulled him back into the room, kicking the door shut behind him, and Maedhros seized him, hauling him up against his body and kissing him fiercely.
“You fucking asshole, Maitimo,” Fingon gasped against his lips, even as his hands fisted in Maedhros’ shirt. “You fucking liar, you – ”
“I love you,” whispered Maedhros. “I love you, I love you, I – ”
“I know, you bastard.” Fingon clung to him, and Maedhros could feel the burn of his tears against his cheek. Maedhros kissed him again, and Fingon groaned. “Please – ”
As Fingon fumbled with his belt, Maedhros wrapped him close and bore him down to the bed.
“Clothes - off, let me see you,” Fingon ordered hoarsely, and Maedhros pulled off his shirt before reaching down to jerk Fingon’s jeans down around his hips.
They moved together with brutal familiarity, Fingon cursing him in a low, wrecked voice, and Maedhros kissed him and touched him in all the ways he knew he liked best, until Fingon was gasping under him, and Maedhros rocked into him, bringing them both closer and closer to the edge, even as tears streamed from Fingon’s eyes. Maedhros licked them away and buried his face in Fingon’s neck as he came, his own groan breaking on a sob.
Fingon rolled over as soon as Maedhros pulled out of him, turning his back to Maedhros, his fingers clenching on the sheets. Maedhros lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, telling himself to leave, to get out, to make an end to it; but instead he lay still, his breath short and ragged, his eyes burning.
Leave leave leave…
“Just go already, you fucking coward,” came Fingon’s voice. “Jesus, Maitimo, why do you have to drag it out?”
Maedhros tried to answer, but found himself incapable of speech. Instead he rolled over and wrapped his arms around Fingon’s waist, burying his face in Fingon’s hair, pressing his hot skin to Fingon’s neck.
“Fuck, grow some balls, Nelyo,” Fingon growled, and twisted around in his arms. He braced himself over Maedhros and pinned him the mattress. “I’m not going to feel sorry for you,” he said harshly, as Maedhros looked up at him, half blind from tears. “I will not feel sorry for you.”
Maedhros shook his head, but still couldn’t speak, and Fingon let out a snarl and kissed him ferociously. This time their lovemaking was rough and angry, and when he tried to say something, Fingon wrapped a hand over his mouth and whispered, “Shut up.” He closed his eyes, then, and let Fingon take him hard, until the bed rocked back against the wall, and when they at last came together, it was with Fingon’s hand still over Maedhros’ mouth, and Maedhros’ fingernails digging welts into Fingon’s back.
Fingon collapsed on top of him, burying his face in Maedhros’ shoulder, and Maedhros held him tightly, and kissed his sweat-damp hair, and closed his eyes against the pain and pretended, for a moment, it was just like it always had been.
They fell asleep like that, Fingon curled into Maedhros’ arms, whispering love and curses in equal measure, as Maedhros stroked his hair and pressed kisses to his closed eyelids and refused to let himself think of the morning.
-
In the morning, Fingon was once more turned away from him in bed, and this time Maedhros rose without hesitating, pulled on his clothes, and left, not looking back.
-
Maglor tapped his fingers on the counter, a steady drumbeat of anxiety that Caranthir let continue for five minutes before snapping.
“What is it, Makalaurë?”
“Hm?” Maglor jumped and looked up, apparently shocked to see his brother standing there.
Caranthir glowered. “You’re doing that annoying thing you do when you’re fretting. What is it this time?”
“Oh.” Maglor looked down at his fingers and consciously stilled them. “It’s Maitimo.”
Caranthir frowned. “Why are you worried about him?”
“He was going to go end things with Findekáno yesterday.”
Caranthir’s eyebrows rose. “Oh.”
“Yes, exactly.” Maglor sighed, and resumed drumming his fingers. “But he didn’t come home last night.”
“Which means…”
“It means either he spent the night with Findekáno, or he spent the night…elsewhere.” Maglor’s jaw tightened. “I don’t like the sound of either prospect.”
“Damn.” Caranthir seated himself and put his feet up on the table. “Maybe he just wanted one last good lay and then dumped him in the morning.”
Maglor turned an uncharacteristically dark look on his brother. “Do you really think Maitimo is capable of something like that?”
Caranthir shrugged. “Why not?”
“It’s not in his nature. He wouldn’t do something like that to Findekáno, even if – ”
“Whatever.” Caranthir rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe they’ve even lasted this long. I thought dad would bust his spleen when he found out.”
“You can’t help who you love,” said Maglor absently, and checked his watch. “Dammit. Where is he?”
As if on cue, the front door banged and a tall figure strode into the house, his hands buried in his pockets, his head down.
“Maitimo!” Maglor straightened up at once, opening his mouth to speak, but he quickly shut it again at the look on his brother’s face.
Caranthir had no such qualms. “So, are you single again?”
“Moryo!” hissed Maglor, but Maedhros didn’t even look up.
“Get your feet off the table,” was all he said, and then he was gone.
Maglor hurried after him. “Maitimo – ”
“Leave me be.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“You can leave me alone.”
Maglor slowed, falling back as his brother disappeared down the hallway to his room. “Okay.”
But later, he slipped into Maedhros’ room and sat lightly on the edge of the bed.
“There’s food downstairs.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“When you are…”
“I’m not hungry.”
“That’s okay.”
They sat together in silence, and when Maglor brushed a hand over his brother’s hair, Maedhros stared blankly into space but didn’t tell him to leave.
-
“What’s his room number again?”
“Um. 207, I think.” Aredhel pulled out her phone and flicked through her messages. “Damn, still nothing.”
“His phone’s off.” Turgon leaned against the exterior wall of the dorm, keeping one eye peeled for residents entering or exiting. “It’s gone straight to voicemail for the past day.”
Aredhel raised her eyes to the windows of the dorm, though of course she had no idea which one was Fingon’s. “Do you think…Do you think everything’s okay?” There was a slight note of anxiety in her voice.
“That’s why we’re here,” said Turgon, and pushed himself up off the wall, “Someone’s coming out, quick – ”
As a student pushed through the doors, Aredhel and Turgon slipped past going the opposite direction, trying to look nonchalant.
“Second floor. Stairs, where are the – Look over there.”
They darted up the stairs, no longer pretending they weren’t in a hurry, dashing down the hallway, counting numbers.
“203, 205 – Here!”
Turgon drew up before the door marked 207, his breath coming hard. He rapped on the door, then pressed his ear against it, listening. “Findekáno?”
Aredhel rocked back and forth on her heels. “He’s not answering.”
“I know.” Turgon pounded on the door again. “Findekáno!”
Still no response.
“Fuck this,” said Aredhel. She braced her palms against the door and shouted, “Findekáno, if you don’t open this goddamn door right now, I’m going to stand in the hallway and scream.”
There was a pause, and then the door was yanked open, so that Aredhel almost fell through. Fingon stood there, dark shadows under his eyes, looking deeply unamused.
“What the fuck do you want?”
“You haven’t answered any of our calls for three days,” snarled Aredhel, regaining her balance and glaring at him. “Mom and dad were frantic – You weren’t picking up, not answering emails or texts, no one’s seen you – They sent us here to make sure you were still alive!”
“We only just talked them out of calling the campus police,” said Turgon, folding his arms.
“Yes, well, obviously I’m alive,” growled Fingon. “So you can piss off now.” He made to close the door, but Turgon laid a hand against it, blocking it easily.
“No.”
“No?” Fingon’s eyes flashed. “Look, I don’t need my kid brother and sister checking up on me– ”
“Yeah, you do,” said Aredhel. “What happened, Finno?” Her nose crinkled. “Have you been drinking?”
Fingon ground his teeth. “Are you here to lecture me? I’m of age, Irissë.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s a good idea to drink like you’ve been drinking,” said Aredhel, pushing past him into the room and seizing a nearly empty bottle from the side of the bed. “Christ, Finno, did you finish all this yourself?”
“No, I bought it like that,” said Fingon, in a feeble attempt at sarcasm as he slumped unsteadily against the wall.
“Well, you’re being cut off,” said Turgon, striding into the room and taking the bottle from Aredhel. He vanished into the bathroom and poured the rest down the sink.
“Hey!” said Fingon, face darkening. “What the fuck, Turno?”
“I’ll reimburse you the two dollars that was worth,” said Turgon tightly, dropping the empty bottle into the trashcan. “How are you even still standing?”
“Pure force of will,” said Fingon, with a rather mad grin, and Aredhel dragged him over to the bed.
“Okay, buddy, time to lie down. Turno, can you grab him some water?”
Fingon flopped back on the bed and dropped an arm over his eyes. “What the fuck did I do to deserve this?”
“You went off the grid on us,” said Aredhel. “You don’t get to do that, big brother.” And then, in a gentler voice, as Turgon returned with a glass of water, she asked, “Did you and Maitimo break up?”
Fingon gave a low, grating laugh. “ ‘Break up’ would imply something mutual. No, I think the correct terminology is ‘dumped.’ I was dumped, Ireth.” His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat impatiently. “He left me.”
“Motherfucker,” muttered Aredhel, and laid her hand on Fingon’s knee. “I’m sorry, Finno.”
“Don’t be,” said Fingon. “I shouldn’t have been with him anyway. Not when his father hates me, and fuck, for all we know, tried to have dad killed, and – ” He dragged a hand across his eyes. “ – and I was never sure of myself with him, anyway, I always wondered – wondered why he was with me at all – Because it was too good to believe that he could have loved me, right?” His voice broke again and he buried his face in his hands.
Turgon sat down on the other side of him, and rested his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “You deserve better than that, Finno. You deserve better than him.” And as Fingon made a miserable little noise of protest, Turgon said, “All I mean is - Look, we’re here for you.”
“Yes,” said Aredhel, and curled up at Fingon’s side. “We’re not going to let you go through this alone.”
Turgon stretched out on Fingon’s other side, and Fingon finally let himself break open, lying on the narrow bed between his brother and sister, holding him in silence as he wept.
It would be another four months before he saw Maedhros again.