To Build The Bonds That Tie by ThatFeanorian

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Who We Must Be

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Wednesdays, Maedhros’ father is at work late managing all of the new responsibilities of taking over Grandpa Finwë’s job at the company. His mother is busy teaching pottery classes at the local art studio, and Maedhros is left in charge. Today, he stands alone and silent outside of the middle school watching Maglor exit, surrounded by a cloud of friends. He is laughing, violin case and backpack each slung over a shoulder as he makes his way out of the big front door of the school. Maedhros checks his watch, one foot tapping nervously on the concrete below him as Maglor takes longer than any one person should need to exit a building as jokes and childish innuendo fly from one mouth to another among the large group of sixth-graders.

They will need at least thirty minutes to walk across town to Mithirm Elementary, and another ten to get from there to Ms Varyisse’s house down the road from their own where Junior spends the afternoons playing. As it is, Maglor is pushing dangerously close towards the sort of lateness that will have them running to make it anywhere in time.

Maedhros lets out a long low sigh and propels himself forwards, arms crossed tightly over his chest as he walks quickly in Maglor’s direction and trying to much happier and more confident than he is. Maglor and his friends seem oddly intimidating as he makes his way alone towards them, larger than life and howling with companionable laughter that Maedhros has not been able to share with anyone since his earlier years of elementary school,

“Ooh, hide your dicks guys,” A flinty-eyed boy jeers as he approaches, “It’s Mae the gay!” This comment, as per usual, is met with shouts of approval, and when Maedhros looks up he sees even Maglor laughing along with the others. His mouth feels dry and swollen as he says quietly,

“Káno, it’s time to go,” And turns, not waiting for a response before walking away. He doesn’t manage to move fast enough, though, because as he retreats he hears all of the goodbyes and the snort of laughter his brother lets out as another friend yells after them,

“Don’t forget to lock your door before you go to sleep, you never know who could sneak in.” Maedhros shoves his hands deep into his pockets as if to ward off the chill of the early spring air, but really he is hiding them from sight as they curl into fists in his pockets, trembling as he blinks rapidly, trying to pretend it is just the brisk cold breeze that brings the tears to his eyes.

Somehow the fact that even kids two years younger than himself have joined in the school sport of “Mae the gay” ridicule does not seem at all relevant when placed side by side with the laughter of his younger brother. Maglor, who he taught to play the piano, who he tells his every secret because he thought he could trust his brother.

Clearly, Maedhros thinks, he was wrong.
But there is no time to stop and think, it is Wednesday, and he now has twenty minutes to complete a thirty-minute walk, so without looking behind himself to check if Maglor really is following, Maedhros hurries towards the street, hands tight and fisted in his pockets and pretending that everything is fine. He doesn’t even realize that he is running until Maglor’s puffing out of breath voice calls out from behind him,

“Nelyo, wait up, I can’t go that fast with my violin.” Maedhros glances behind himself, vision blurred slightly, then slows just a fraction so that his forward motion can actually be classified as walking instead of jogging. Maglor’s face is red and he is clutching his violin to his front to keep it from bumping up and down on his back as his school bag does. Normally, Maedhros might apologise and offer to carry it for him, but today he keeps his mouth shut and his hands buried deep in his pockets as Maglor falls into place beside him. He does not trust himself to open his mouth, for fear of what will come out of it.

An unnatural silence, heavy and hard, falls as Maglor takes in gulps of air and Maedhros walks quickly, eyes on the ground, hoping that by leaving the school behind he will also leave behind whoever this new person is that his brother has decided to become.

And yet, though the silence has stretched out for longer than Maedhros can ever remember his brother having been quiet before, Maedhros still gulps in a deep breath and pushes ahead of Maglor with long strides when his brother finally reaches out for Maedhros’ hand, as he always has and probably always will do. Maedhros cringes away, shoving his arms deeper inside the pockets of his winter coat, which even against the cold wind has left him sweating slightly.

“Look, Nelyo, I’m sorry,” Maglor says, reaching out again, but Maedhros only grunts and keeps walking, hands hidden out of sight as Maglor’s two bags bounce along heavily on his back,

“That was a really crummy thing to say in front of you, and I was wrong to laugh at it but--” Maedhros snorts,

“In front of me? Yeah Macalaurë, that’s definitely what I’m mad about. Just that you fucking laughed in front of me.” Maglor looks confused and slightly panicked,

“No, that’s that’s not what I meant at all!” He cries, but Maedhros is done listening,

“Don’t worry, I get it. It’s fine. We all have our own priorities,” He says cooly, and checks his watch again, cutting off Maglor’s inevitable retort,

“Come on, we’ve only got ten minutes left.” Maglor, however, seems dissatisfied with this,

“No, Nelyo, I didn’t do it because I wanted to upset you, I just wanted to fit in. Daeron is super cool and we’ve been getting along really well because he does band too, and he’s the one that keeps making jokes about you, so I figured if I just went along with it…” He trails off appearing to realize he is not helping his own case by continuing to talk,

“Yeah,” Maedhros mutters, “I know all about trying to fit in. Don’t worry about it, it’s fine. Like I said.”
They are almost to the Elementary school and Maedhros reaches deep inside of himself, pushing all of the hurt and the anger down into a little bottle and pulling out what tiny shreds of false happiness and love he has left.

After all, there is no reason to burden Celegorm and Caranthir when they are sure to have had a perfectly good day. It is only ever he who seems to experience the bad ones.

They stand, silent and small among the crowd of tall chattering parents who wait for the final bell to ring

“Nelyo,” Maglor says again, shifting his bags on his shoulders and reaching again for his brother’s hand, though this time Maedhros lets him take it, if only so that he doesn’t feel like quite so much of an outlier in this world where he has no place.

“I really am sorry,” He whispers, and Maedhros just shrugs,

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He responds firmly, and Maglor’s fingers squeeze his own tighter. It is not fair, not even to Maglor to take out all of the anger of his terrible day on one person. Maglor could not know about the catastrophe his morning had been, he could not know about the hot pink marker in his locker spelling out the truth for all the world. Maglor didn’t and would never know a thousand things that Maedhros hated about himself and questioned every day, so it was useless to pretend that he was the source of all those problems.

Easier, perhaps, to simply ignore them and shove them downwards into the tiny bottle inside of him where every unproductive thought is stored. The bell rings, and a crowd of children spills out the front door, ordered lines with teachers trying to count their classes disregarded as they push forwards already running off towards busses and sidewalks and parents. Celegorm smashes into his legs with the force of a bulldozer, nearly knocking Maedhros off his feet,

“Hey, Nelyo!” He yells, oblivious to the parents around them who take a step away, no doubt repelled by both the absurdly loud tone of his voice and the fact that he looks to have rolled in mud at some point in the last hour.

“Hi, Tyelko.” He says automatically, a fake cheerful smile rising as smoothly to his face as a real one would,

“What happened to you?” Maglor asks in horror, staring down at Celegorm’s half-dry mud-caked clothes, and Celegorm grins cheerfully,

“It rained last night and the football field was muddy.”

“So you went and bathed in it?” Maglor asks, a disgusted frown pulling at the corners of his mouth, and Celegorm shakes his head with a feral grin,

“I didn’t bathe in it, we played!” he explains and then captures Maglor in a hug that somehow rubs off nearly all of the mud onto his brother’s front. Maglor makes an outraged sound that makes him look like he is going to throw up, and Maedhros internally smirks, simultaneously proud of Celegorm, and disgusted that he would turn against Maglor in such a way.

“Nelyo!” Maglor says, indignant, but Maedhros is spared having to respond by the arrival of Caranthir, who sulks over in his black jeans and big puffy coat with a scowl on his features. Kneeling, Maedhros pulls him into a hug and is surprised when the boy actually responds, reaching up to squeeze his arms tight around his brother’s neck,

“You okay, Moryo?” Maedhros asks softly, making sure neither of their brothers can hear, and Caranthir gifts him with the slightest shake of his head in response. Maedhros checks his watch again over his brother’s shoulder and lets out a worried sigh,

“Okay, let’s talk about it when we get home, yes?” He lets out a groan at the heaviness of his school bag as he pushes himself back to his feet and takes Caranthir’s hand which for once his brother holds back tightly. Maglor is attempting to brush himself off, and Celegorm is standing proudly, trying not to laugh,

“Come on, you two, we have to go get Junior,” Maedhros says, letting Celegorm push through the crowd ahead of them, clearing a little path through which the others can file, Maglor still looking absolutely revolted with every aspect of his situation.

Celegorm chatters aimlessly, telling them everything from how he refused to answer a question the teacher asked him,

“And I said ‘fuck that’ and she threatened to put me in detention, but that’s just stupid ‘cause I know they don’t have detention at this ass-shit school,” To a new art project that he and a friend are working on,

“We’re gonna see how big she’ll let us make it and then we’re gonna take it home and smash it on the driveway!” Maedhros is glad for the distraction because Celegorm’s presence leaves no room for anything else as he rants about meaningless details, and Maedhros finds that the longer they walk, the more Caranthir’s hand loosens around his own. He wishes that the internal hurricane of his emotions would be dispelled so easily. They pass their own house and Maglor breaks away, telling everyone he needs to,

“Take a shower to get Tyelkormo’s shit off me,” And Celegorm joins him, no doubt to go and get himself dirtier by rolling around with the dog in the backyard.

It is quiet without the two of them there to set the tone, and Maedhros feels Caranthir’s hand once again tightens around his as the silence leads each of them back to his own brooding thoughts that were so close to dispelled by the presence of Celegorm’s all-encompassing desire to talk.

“Nelyo?” He says quietly, and Maedhros squeezes his hand once in recognition, humming in response,

“I don’t want to go back to school tomorrow.” He whispers, and even in the quiet street, Maedhros almost misses it. Caranthir’s dark eyes are peering up towards him, stained golden by the sunlight, and his hair blows around him in the wind. He looks like something out of a painting, and for a moment Maedhros’ heart sinks. Here is another for him to sew back together before he can climb into bed and tumble downwards into the dark hole floating beneath him

“Why? Did something happen?” Maedhros asks, sure he already knows the answer to that question. Caranthir is his only brother so far who matches his enthusiasm in academics, and he wouldn’t choose to avoid it unless something truly terrible had occurred. Caranthir --as expected-- nods and squeezes Maedhros’ hand a little tighter. Maedhros checks his watch for what feels like the hundredth time, but for once, they are not late, so he stops, kneeling so that he can see eye to eye with his little brother,

“Do you want to tell me? You don’t have to, but if you want to, I’m here.” His heart contracts in his chest, and it is too painful to breathe in the silence.

These are the words he prays each night someone will say to him, yet so far no one has. His mother smiles lovingly and tells him how proud she is, his father gruffly commands each success, yet there are no questions, none of the probes that could breath his carefully perfected illusions. He wishes they would. He is terrified they will.

Maedhros forces his lungs to contract, to expand, and waits until Caranthir moves a little closer and leans into Maedhros’ arms as they move automatically upwards to wrap around him, steadied by the weight of the little boy.

“We wrote an au- aubigrafy,” He says and Maedhros gives a tiny huff of a laugh into his ear,

“Autobiography?” Caranthir nods, blushing slightly,

“Yeah. We were supposed to say three things we liked to do, but I don’t really have anything I like to do, so the teacher said I could put down people too, but then the girl who sits next to me told her I don’t have any friends and-” He presses his face into Maedhros’ coat and Maedhros hugs him tightly, staying quiet until he has calmed slightly. Caranthir has not cried at all since he was a baby, instead, simply turning red and sitting frozen in place with every muscle in his body clenched until he feels calm again. Maedhros wishes he could say the same. As Caranthir begins to relax in Maedhros’ arms, Maedhros speaks gently,

“That was a pretty mean thing to say to you, huh?” He asserts, and Caranthir nods vigorously, pulling back so that he can glare at Maedhros,

“But it’s true. I don’t have any friends. Not like Celegorm and Maglor. Nobody likes me.” Maedhros wipes a bit of hair off of his forehead and shakes his head,

“That’s not true at all Moryo, I like you a whole lot.” He says, and Caranthir scowls,

“But you’re my brother, you can’t be my friend too.” He explains, and Maedhros pretends this does not hurt him. If family cannot be friends then he is truly alone.

“Of course I can!” He retorts, not sure if this comment is more reassuring to Caranthir or himself. The little boy looks confused, and Maedhros leans in, pulling Caranthir into his arms as he stands up, conscious of the fact that they are supposed to be picking up their youngest brother at this very moment,

“That’s the whole point of having brothers.” It comes out in a whisper, but Caranthir gives him a tentative smile, the first Maedhros has seen on his brother’s face in years, and he grins back, the muscles in his face aching with the effort of the act. Tomorrow he will have to go back and face the jeering and name-calling again, and he is terrified of that: not being strong enough to stand up to them, the possibility that their taunts might be the truth, and his entire body seizes up with the effort that it takes to not drop his brother and run for the nearest locked room where all of his emotions can explode at once without the threat of hurting or scaring anyone else. And yet, Caranthir is curled into his chest, a steady and reassuring weight against his racing heart.

It does not matter than it is Wednesday and he is alone, what matters is the little boy in his arms, feeling all the pain he does, and Maedhros knows he has to protect Caranthir from the rest of the world. That is why he is here, to take their troubles as his own and leave them weightless while he slowly sinks into the ground.