The Dogs Of War: Chapter 9

Dooku decided to give Sören his space the next forty-eight hours, which was agonizing for him, wanting to check up on him... but he understood Sören's need for solitude in stress, as well as Sören's pride, not wanting to show his vulnerability around others - damnable that it was in these circumstances.

Early Tuesday evening Dooku was reading The Stand while dinner was cooking, and he had the classic rock station playing in the background. His thoughts kept wandering to Sören, resolving to go see him at school tomorrow.

And then out of the corner of his eye he noticed a flash of movement at the window. He looked up from his book and he saw Sören at his rose bushes. Sören wasn't wearing his usual glasses, and his curls were up in a loose, messy "man bun", and he was dressed down from his usual school attire, in a red plaid flannel shirt over a black T-shirt, and faded skinny jeans. Beowulf was in the cat tree, perking up when he saw Sören - Beowulf put a paw on the window, and Sören waved to the cat, putting a finger on the window on the other side of the cat's paw as he stooped, leaning in to smell the roses, admiring the blooms that would soon be gone.

Even dressed down, with that ridiculous hairdo, and bruises on the side of his face, Sören was lovely. Dooku's breath caught at that shy yet radiant smile as Sören enjoyed his roses. He got up, and opened the front door.

"Jæja, I was just about to knock," Sören said.

Dooku wordlessly made a "get over here" gesture, and Sören followed him inside. Dooku quietly closed the door behind him.

"Coffee? Tea?" Dooku hesitated, then offered, "A glass of wine?"

"I can't drink much," Sören said.

Dooku blinked. Scandinavians, and Icelanders in particular, were known for hard drinking.

"Medication," Sören quickly explained. "I'll have coffee, though."

Dooku had a fresh pot of coffee, and brought Sören into the kitchen. Sören took his with cream and two sugars. Dooku and Sören sat at opposite ends of the kitchen table - Sören's eyes wandered around, taking it all in - and there was silence. Beowulf came in to rub against Sören's legs and get pettings before going over to his food dish.

Dooku got up then to turn over the chicken in the oven.

"That looks good," Sören said.

"You're welcome to stay for dinner." Dooku looked at him.

Sören looked down, and then finally he nodded. "OK. Takk."

Dooku sat back at the table. "How are you?"

Sören shrugged. "Still pretty shaken up."

"I imagine so." Dooku frowned into his coffee. "Has he come back?"

"No," Sören said.

"Let's hope it stays that way."

Sören nodded, looking away. Looking like he was staring at something very far away. "I think I'm well and truly done with him, this time." Sören looked back at his coffee, and then his eyes met Dooku's as he picked up the mug and took a sip. "The last few times I tried to break up with him, he kept coming back..."

"Yes, you mentioned that."

"...and there was always 'baby I'll change', and for a little while he did change, he was nicer... and then of course, it happened again." Sören put his mug down and looked down again. "And I'm tired of it. I've been tired of it, but..." Sören looked into Dooku's eyes. "He's gotten more unhinged. He used to be more discrete about hitting me, only indoors, where no one could see. He lost it enough to hit me out in the open like that -"

"I definitely think you should let him go for good, Sören, yes. Before he does something worse."

Sören nodded.

Dooku sipped his coffee, then put the mug down and folded his hands on the table. "I don't trust the police any more than you do - I probably trust them even less than you do, in fact -"

Sören blinked. "Really."

"Leftist activism is something I do in my spare time. Started when I was a student at Oxford, stepped up when I came here to the States. In more recent years it's been the Occupy protests and Black Lives Matter demonstrations. Anyway..." Dooku leaned back in his chair. "I would still urge you to seek a restraining order. I'll go with you to the police for moral support if you want." He made a face at that idea. "But I'm not sure how cooperative they'd be -"

"Jæja, me either. Plus this is two guys, so there would probably be some question as to whether or not it was just him..." Sören's voice trailed off. "Anyway, I'm not bothering with the police."

"In lieu of that," Dooku said, "You should change the locks on your doors."

Sören nodded. "I rent the house, and I can't change the locks without my landlord's permission. I actually called him about that this morning and he told me I can't do it myself, he has to send a locksmith out. He said 'it'll be a few days'. Which..."

"Jesus Christ." Dooku frowned. "That's too long."

"I will say that this isn't like other times we've split," Sören said. "He hasn't called. Usually he blows up my cell phone within hours after he leaves and doesn't stop calling. He hasn't even shown up at the university or anything -"

"He's done that?"

Sören nodded.

Dooku felt like an idiot for asking, he shouldn't have been surprised Seth would be that extreme.

"So he hasn't called, he hasn't shown up. Just silence. Of course, this isn't like other times, either." Sören's eyes met Dooku's again. "Thank you, again, for -"

"I told you there's no need to thank me. What he did to you - what he's been doing to you - it isn't right, Sören. Anyone with a shred of common decency would have stepped in, or tried to get some help."

"It was very decent. And..." Sören exhaled sharply. He looked down, then at Dooku again. "I feel I need to apologize for... antagonizing you, with the music."

Now this was surprising. Dooku raised an eyebrow.

"You probably know this now, but. Seth stresses me out. He gets me agitated. Angry. I can't fight back - he's physically stronger, plus I freeze when he goes off on me. Music helps me get out of my head. And it got to the point where even being in my own house when he wasn't there felt too much like him, so it's why I'd sit outside reading."

Dooku felt for him. He found he couldn't even be angry anymore about those incidents.

"But... I was rude and inconsiderate. It's not like me to be like that, but I just." Sören shrugged. "I don't know. I shouldn't make excuses. I'm sorry for being a pain in the arse."

Dooku reached across the table and patted Sören's hand. Their eyes met, and Dooku's hand lingered for a moment; Sören gave him a small, sad smile, and the hurt puppydog eyes made Dooku want to come over and hug him, but he didn't. Despite the beverage, Dooku's mouth was suddenly dry. His heart raced a little, his stomach doing flip-flops. He has beautiful eyes.

He thought about the ceramic bowl in Sören's kitchen, the one he made himself, looking like a sunset. He'd assumed Sören had no taste, from the neon green car to the rap music to the way he dressed, the gauge plugs in his ears - though it still had bothered him to hear Seth disparage his art, before he'd seen it. But that bowl was exquisite, and Dooku found himself wanting to see more. He thought about asking, but he felt strangely shy. His hand was still on Sören's, and he felt a prickle of self-consciousness, pulling his hand back. His face burned.

"Apology accepted," Dooku said.

"All Along the Watchtower" by Jimi Hendrix started on the classic rock station and Sören's eyes widened. "Oh, can you turn this up?" he asked.

Dooku went into the living room and turned up the stereo and then he came back in, smiling a little, delighted. "I had no idea you liked this stuff," he said, sitting back down. "Well, apart from that standoff we had..."

"My parents came of age in the 70s," Sören said. "My mamma always had this kind of music playing. My favorite band from that era is ELO."

"Oh, really? Well, that's good to know. I feel as if most people your age have forgotten all about music older than they are. Though..." Dooku knew he probably shouldn't press it now, if Sören was still a little raw emotionally, but his curiosity - and concern - was getting the better of him. "You cried at 'Stairway to Heaven'."

"Jæja." Sören sighed. He rubbed his head and his beard. "My mamma used to sing me that as a lullaby."

"Oh." Dooku felt strangely touched by Sören's sentimentality. Then there was more curiosity and concern. "What does she think of all of this, with Seth?"

"She doesn't." Sören exhaled sharply. "She's dead."

"Oh dear. I'm sorry."

"It was close to my sixth birthday. I was the one to find her body." Sören frowned, and looked down.

"I'm so sorry, Sören. I -"

"Don't apologize. You didn't know. But yes, that song always hits a nerve for me, especially when I'm already feeling sensitive." Sören scowled. "I'm thirty-one now, almost thirty-two, and I still miss her."

"That's understandable. She was your mother." Dooku got the urge again to hug him, and didn't. "What about your father? If I was your father, I'd want to fly out from Iceland and knock his teeth out -"

"Father's dead too. Died before I was two, never knew him, though I heard about him. My aunt and uncle raised me." Sören gave a bitter laugh. "Or 'raised', I should say." His fingers made air quotes. "We raised ourselves, my siblings and cousin. They were too busy drinking. Except when we pissed them off. But... never mind about that. You don't want to know about my life."

"I do," Dooku said. "I'd like to be your friend."

"You didn't like me very much as of very recently."

"I misjudged you. And you misjudged me. But we can start over." Pink Floyd was on the stereo now. "We have common ground."

They had more coffee and sat in companionable silence, listening to music, and then dinner was ready. Sören gave profuse compliments, which made Dooku glow with pride. At the end of the meal Sören offered to do dishes.

"You're a guest," Dooku said. "It's not necessary -"

"You cooked," Sören said. "It's only fair -"

Dooku gave him a stern look, remembering the way Sören waited on Seth outside. "You're not a servant, Sören. Go sit in the living room and relax. I'll take care of everything."

They ended up watching an episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation together - another commonality - and Beowulf sat on Sören's lap, purring away. Dooku couldn't get over how adorable Sören was with the cat.

He couldn't get over how adorable Sören was, period. He kept stealing glances at Sören as the show wore on, his stomach fluttering, face burning. As the credits rolled he finally took himself to task internally. Stop looking at him like that. You're old enough to be his father, or older.

"I should get going," Sören said.

"All right." Dooku sighed reluctantly.

He walked Sören to the door, and then, taking his keys and closing his front door behind him, he decided to walk Sören over to his house. It was a chilly, clear night, and Dooku and Sören looked up at the stars as they walked. Sören lingered at the door, looking at the stars again.

"My twin brother and I had a nightly ritual of coming out to look at the stars and say goodnight to the moon when we were kids," Sören said.

"Twin brother? So there's two of you?" Dooku's lips quirked in a small smile, not knowing if the world could handle two Sörens.

Sören laughed - it felt so good to hear him laugh, and the way it lit up his face was beautiful. Then Sören shook his head. "Fraternal. And we're nothing alike, really. But..." Sören looked back up at the sky. "It's still something I do sometimes, and I think about my brother doing the same thing, watching the same sky."

"So he's not dead."

"No. He's up in Canada. He's a teacher like me. That's... where the similarities begin and end." Sören folded his arms, rocking back on his heels. "He's less of a fuckup."

"I wouldn't call you a fuckup, Sören." Dooku paused. "A fuckup couldn't make a bowl like the one I saw in your kitchen."

"It's just a bowl. You're too nice."

"I can tell a lot of work went into it. I'd still like to see more of your art."

"Sometime." Sören nodded, and now he did go to his door. "Thank you for dinner, and for..." He looked like he was searching for the right word. "Everything."

"You're welcome. Thank you for keeping me company this evening." Dooku's heart started to race again. "We should do that again sometime."

"Jæja, we should." Sören tried to smile but his face was tight. He gave a small wave. "Goodnight, Nicolae."

"Goodnight, Sören."

Dooku watched Sören step into his house and close the door behind him, and he let out a deep sigh. He still lingered for a moment, until he wondered why he was still hanging about, and went back to his house, face burning all the way.

chapter 10 | return to Under The Rose | return to index