May 2024
Just as Anthony was about to sit down to have a cup of afternoon tea on his day off from work, his cell phone buzzed. He pulled it out of his jeans pocket and saw Sören’s number. Sören didn’t call terribly often - they mostly kept in touch via e-mail and online chats. Anthony swiped to accept the call.
“Hey,” Anthony said.
“A-Anthony?” Sören’s voice was shaky and he sounded a little out of breath.
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry. Is this… is this a bad time?”
“Sort of? I’m about to have tea, but… is everything all right?”
“No.” Sören exhaled sharply.
Anthony’s brow furrowed and he felt a twinge of concern. “OK, I can take some time.” He nodded over at Mark, who nodded back, and Anthony got up from the table and headed to the living room. “What’s going on, kiddo?” He was forty-four and Sören was twenty-seven; Anthony had been something of a mentor to Sören since Sören started transition six years ago, and they considered each other best friends.
"It's... it's my roommate, Raven," Sören choked out. "She... she hit me. Again."
Anthony's blood ran cold. He clenched his fist, anger rising in his chest. "Jesus Fucking Christ, Sören. Are you safe right now?"
"I... I don't know," Sören's voice trembled. "She left, but I'm afraid she'll come back. I don't have anywhere to go."
Anthony paced the living room, running a hand through his hair. "Listen to me carefully. Pack your things. Only essentials now, go with a police escort for the rest. Can you get to a safe place? A friend's house, maybe?"
"I don't have any friends here anymore," Sören said, his voice small and defeated. "Everyone in this house hates me." Since Sören had moved to LA from Iceland, he’d been sharing a house with other queer and trans artists, and he’d been hinting that the situation had turned toxic a few months ago… but this was worse than Anthony thought, if one of them was getting violent.
Anthony's heart ached. He glanced towards the kitchen where Mark sat, waiting patiently. A plan began to form in Anthony's mind. He took a deep breath and said, "Alright, Sören. Here's what we're going to do. Mark and I are coming to get you."
"What?" Sören's voice cracked. "But... but you're in Washington..."
"I know," Anthony said firmly. "We'll drive down. It'll take us about seventeen hours, but we'll be there as soon as we can. Can you hang on until then?"
There was a pause, then a shaky inhale. "Y-yes. I think so."
"Good. Pack everything you can, in that case, because you won’t be back. I’ll send you some money through Paypal so you can get a cab and go stay in a hotel while you wait for us to come get you. Don’t tell any of your roommates where you’re going. Keep your phone on you, call or text me when you’re safely arrived at the hotel. We'll call or text when we're close."
"Anthony, I... I don't know what to say," Sören's voice was thick with emotion.
"You don't have to say anything," Anthony assured him.
Anthony ended the call and rushed back to the kitchen, his heart racing. Mark looked up from his plate, concern etched on his face.
"We need to go," Anthony said, his voice tight. "Sören's in trouble. His roommate hit him. I’m really sorry, I know this is a lot to ask on such short notice -”
Mark's eyes widened, and he stood up immediately. "I'll pack the car."
As Mark hurried off, Anthony quickly transferred money to Sören's PayPal account, then he made sure the cats’ food and water dispensers were good for the next few days, called the vet clinic where he worked to explain he'd be out the next couple of days - thankfully, there were other vets who could pick up the slack, but it still wasn't something Anthony was in the habit of doing - then he called a neighbor to arrange to check on the animals while they were away, and grabbed their overnight bags from the closet. His hands shook slightly as he stuffed clothes into them, his mind racing with worry for Sören.
Within twenty minutes, they were on the road. Anthony gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white. Mark reached over and squeezed his thigh gently.
"He'll be okay," Mark said softly. "We'll get him out of there."
Anthony nodded, letting out a shaky breath. "I know. I just... I can't believe this happened. I should have done something sooner. He's been hinting things weren't great for months."
"You're doing something now," Mark reassured him. "That's what matters."
As they drove south on I-5, the familiar landscape of Washington state gave way to Oregon. After about three and a half hours on the road, Anthony's phone buzzed. He glanced at it, relief washing over him as he saw Sören's text: Cab took forever to get here but I'm at the hotel. Safe for now.
"He made it to the hotel," Anthony told Mark, who nodded with a small smile.
Anthony's mind wandered, recalling the first time he'd met Sören in person, four years ago. It had been at a Star Trek convention in Las Vegas. Sören had been pre-op then, still early in his transition, with softer features and a higher voice. But even then, there had been a spark in those dark eyes, a determination that Anthony admired.
Now, as he pictured Sören - bearded, broad-shouldered, with a deep voice that sometimes still surprised Anthony when they talked on the phone or through video chat - Anthony felt a surge of protectiveness. He couldn't bear the thought of anyone hurting Sören, especially someone who was supposed to be his friend and ally.
After taking turns at the wheel, Mark drove through the night. “Mark” was really an elf named Maglor, but Sören didn’t know that and Anthony didn’t know when - or if - to tell him; Mark was capable of staying up and keeping alert for longer periods of time than humans. As Mark drove, Anthony dozed fitfully, his dreams filled with images of Sören in danger. When he woke, he'd check his phone compulsively, reassured by Sören's occasional messages.
As dawn broke over Tulare, California, Anthony felt a mix of exhaustion and adrenaline. They navigated through the early morning traffic on I-5, following the directions south into Los Angeles, to Sören's hotel. Anthony's heart raced as they pulled into the parking lot.
"I'll go get him," Anthony said to Mark. "Can you wait here with the car running?"
Mark nodded, squeezing Anthony's hand reassuringly before he got out.
Anthony's legs felt wobbly as he walked into the hotel lobby, a combination of fatigue from the long drive and nervous anticipation. He texted Sören to let him know they had arrived.
A few minutes later, the elevator doors opened, and there was Sören. Anthony's breath caught in his throat. Even in this state - tired, disheveled, a fading bruise on his cheek - Sören was striking. His beard was fuller than Anthony remembered from photos.
Anthony's heart clenched at the sight of the bruise on Sören's face. He rushed forward, pulling the younger man into a tight hug. Sören stiffened for a moment before melting into the embrace, his body shaking with silent sobs.
"It's okay," Anthony said, rubbing Sören's back. "You're safe now. We've got you."
After a long moment, Sören pulled back, wiping his eyes. "Thank you," he said, his voice rough. "I can't believe you drove all this way..."
"Of course we did," Anthony said firmly. "That's what friends are for." He squeezed Sören's shoulder. "Do you have everything?"
Sören nodded, gesturing to a small suitcase, a large duffel bag, a canvas laptop case, and a heavy-duty backpack at his feet. "This is all I could grab."
"It's enough.”
As Anthony helped Sören carry his bags to the car, he couldn't help but notice how the younger man's muscles tensed beneath his t-shirt. The changes testosterone had wrought were striking - Sören's shoulders were broader, his jawline more defined. Anthony felt a pang of something he couldn't quite name.
Mark got out of the driver's seat to help load Sören's belongings into the trunk. When Sören saw him, his eyes widened slightly. Though Mark had joined in their online chats occasionally, Anthony remembered that Sören had never met Mark in person before; Mark had stayed behind at their ranch during the Star Trek convention four years ago, he didn’t care much for large crowds, which he already had to deal with enough as a performer.
"It's good to finally meet you, Sören," Mark said softly, his grey eyes warm with concern. "I'm sorry it's under these circumstances."
Sören nodded, looking a bit overwhelmed. "Thank you for coming," he mumbled.
They piled into the car, with Anthony taking the wheel this time. As they pulled out of the hotel parking lot, Anthony glanced in the rearview mirror at Sören, who sat hunched in the backseat, looking small and vulnerable.
"We'll stop for breakfast soon," Anthony said, trying to keep his voice light. "I don't know about you, but I'm starving."
Sören managed a weak smile. "Yeah, food would be good."
They drove in silence for a while, the morning Los Angeles traffic slowly thinning out as they headed north. Anthony's mind raced, trying to figure out their next steps. He knew they couldn't just turn around and drive straight back to Washington - they all needed rest, and Sören looked like he could use a proper meal and some time to decompress.
As if reading his thoughts, Mark spoke up. "Why don't we find a nice hotel for the day? We could all use some rest, and it would give us a chance to regroup."
Anthony nodded, relief washing over him. "Good idea. Sören, how does that sound to you?"
Sören's voice was quiet from the backseat. "That sounds nice. I... I don't want to be a burden though."
"You're not a burden," Anthony said firmly, meeting Sören's eyes in the rearview mirror. "We're here because we want to be. Let us take care of you for a bit, yeah?"
Sören nodded, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.
They stopped at a diner just outside of Los Angeles for breakfast. As they slid into a booth, Anthony observed how Sören winced slightly as he sat down. His protective instincts flared again, wondering just how badly Sören had been hurt. He made a mental note to ask about it later, when they had more privacy.
The waitress came by with menus and coffee, eyeing them curiously. Anthony supposed they made an odd trio - himself and Mark looking rumpled and tired from the long drive, and Sören with his visible bruise and haunted expression.
"So, what looks good?" Anthony asked, trying to keep his tone light as he perused the menu. "I think I might go for the full English breakfast."
“When in Rome,” Mark quipped.
Sören managed a small smile. "I thought we were in California."
"Cheeky," Anthony replied, feeling a spark of relief at Sören's attempt at humor.
As they waited for their food, Anthony noticed Sören's hands trembling slightly as he sipped his coffee. The younger man's eyes darted nervously around the diner, as if expecting danger to appear at any moment. Anthony's heart ached, wishing he could erase the trauma Sören had endured.
"So," Anthony said, trying to distract Sören from his anxiety, "have you been working on any new art projects lately?"
Sören's eyes lit up slightly at the question. "Actually, yeah. I've been experimenting with some digital art. It's... it's been a good outlet, you know?"
Anthony nodded encouragingly. "That's brilliant. I'd love to see some of your work when you're feeling up to it."
As Sören began to describe his latest piece - a surreal landscape inspired by Icelandic folklore - Anthony felt a warmth spread through his chest. Even in the midst of this crisis, Sören's passion for his art shone through. Anthony found himself mesmerized by the way Sören's hands moved as he spoke, gesturing to illustrate his points.
Their food arrived, momentarily halting the conversation. Anthony watched as Sören tucked into his plate of pancakes with gusto, realizing the younger man probably hadn't eaten properly in days. Mark caught Anthony's eye and gave a small, approving nod.
As they ate, Anthony's mind wandered to the practicalities of their situation. They needed to find a hotel for the day, and then... what? He knew Sören couldn't go back to his old living situation, but he also didn't want to pressure him into trying to pick up the pieces of his life too soon, when he was still overwhelmed and exhausted.
As they finished their breakfast, Anthony pulled out his phone to search for nearby hotels. He found a decent-looking place about 20 minutes away that had good reviews and reasonable rates.
"How does this look?" he asked, showing Sören and Mark the listing. "It's got a pool and everything."
Sören nodded. "Looks nice. But you really don't have to -"
"We want to," Anthony interrupted gently. "Let's get you somewhere comfortable where we can all rest up a bit, yeah?"
They paid the bill, tipped generously, and piled back into the car. As Anthony drove, he occasionally glanced at Sören in the rearview mirror. The younger man looked exhausted, dark circles under his eyes, but there was also a hint of relief in his expression.
At the hotel, Anthony booked two adjoining rooms - one for himself and Mark, and one for Sören. As they made their way up to their rooms, Anthony noticed Sören's steps were heavy with fatigue.
Once inside, Anthony turned to Sören. "Why don't you get some rest? We'll be right next door if you need anything."
Sören nodded gratefully. "Thank you. Both of you. I... I don't know what I would have done without you."
Anthony pulled Sören into another hug, careful not to squeeze too tightly in case of hidden injuries. "You're safe now," he said. "We've got you."
As Sören disappeared into his room, Anthony felt the adrenaline that had been fueling him for the past 24 hours start to fade. He stumbled into the room he was sharing with Mark, barely managing to kick off his shoes before collapsing onto the bed.
Mark dropped his glamour magic, revealing the true length of his hair, falling from the middle of his back down to his thighs; his ears were pointy now, and his grey eyes were iridescent like labradorite. He was glowing faintly in the dim room. Maglor sat down beside Anthony, gently stroking his hair. "You should rest too, love," he said softly.
Anthony nodded, his eyes already heavy. "I just... I can't believe this happened to him. He's been through so much already."
Mark sighed, his eyes clouding with an ancient sorrow. "The world can be absolute shit, especially to those who are different. But he has us now. We'll help him heal."
Anthony reached up, tracing the line of Mark's jaw. Without his glamour, Mark was breathtakingly beautiful. Mark was beautiful disguised as human, of course, but when he was his full elven self, he was a work of art made flesh. "I love you," Anthony husked.
"And I you," Mark replied, leaning down to press a soft kiss to Anthony's lips.
As exhausted as he was, Anthony felt a familiar heat stir in his belly at Mark's touch. He deepened the kiss, pulling Mark closer. Mark chuckled. As their lips met, Anthony felt a surge of desire, mingled with the exhaustion and worry of the past day. He pulled Mark closer, running his hands through that impossibly silky hair. Mark responded eagerly, his nimble fingers working at the buttons of Anthony's oxford shirt.
"Are you sure?" Mark whispered against Anthony's neck. "You must be exhausted."
"I am," Anthony admitted. "But I need this. Need you."
Mark nodded, understanding in his eyes. He knew how Anthony sometimes used physical intimacy as a way to ground himself, to process difficult emotions.
They undressed each other slowly, savoring each touch. Anthony marveled, as he always did, at the ethereal beauty of Mark's true form - the subtle glow of his skin, the graceful points of his ears, the otherworldly shimmer in his eyes.
Mark lowered himself onto the bed, pulling Anthony on top of him. Their bodies fit together perfectly, familiar curves and planes aligning. Anthony trailed kisses down Mark's neck, relishing the soft sighs of pleasure he elicited.
As their passion built, Anthony found himself hyper-aware of every sensation - the marble-like smoothness and chiseled muscles of Mark's body, the silky waves of his hair, the warmth of his breath. It was as if his senses were heightened, perhaps a result of the emotional intensity of the past day.
Mark's fingers danced along Anthony's spine, sending shivers of pleasure through his body, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Anthony ground his hips against Mark's, their clits rubbing together in a sensual rhythm, their bodies rocking together like waves. The friction between them built slowly, exquisitely.
"Oh G-d," Anthony gasped, burying his face in the crook of Mark's neck. He inhaled deeply, drinking in Mark's intoxicating scent - a mixture of sandalwood and something wild and ancient, like petrichor after a summer storm.
Mark's breath came in shaky gasps, his chest heaving against Anthony's. Mark's hands roamed over Anthony's body, exploring familiar curves and planes with reverent touches. Anthony shuddered as Mark's fingers lovingly traced the scars on his chest, a reminder of their shared journey.
Their hips worked together in an ever-increasing rhythm. Anthony could feel the heat and wetness between them growing, and their cunts were starting to make sloppy wet smacking noises. He ground down harder, relishing Mark's soft gasps and moans.
Mark's legs wrapped around Anthony's waist, pulling him impossibly closer. His nails raked down Anthony's back, leaving trails of fire in their wake. "Please," Mark breathed, his voice thick with need. "Fuck me, Anthony."
Anthony groaned at the desperation in Mark's voice. He shifted slightly, aligning their bodies for maximum contact. The slide of their clits together was exquisite, more and more delicious with each stroke. Anthony quickened his pace, grinding down harder and faster against Mark's body.
Mark's nails raked down Anthony's back, leaving trails of fire in their wake. "Please," he gasped again, his voice ragged. "Fuck me hard, Anthony. I need you."
The elf's words sent a surge of heat through Anthony's core. Their tongues played in a searing kiss, swallowing his moans as their bodies moved together in an increasingly frantic rhythm. The filthy wet slurping, squishing sounds of their hot, needy fuck filled the room, mingling with their gasps and cries of pleasure. Anthony could feel the tension tighter and tighter in his lower belly. Mark's body writhed beneath his.
Mark arched up to meet him, a low moan escaping his lips. “I’m so close,” Mark breathed.
Anthony redoubled his efforts, grinding down hard and fast against Mark's slick heat, the sweet rubbing of clit on clit sending waves of ecstasy coursing through his body. His big, hard clit entered Mark’s cunt, working in and out, and he felt his orgasm building, right on the edge.
"Come for me, love," Anthony panted, his voice rough with desire. He slid a hand between their bodies, finding Mark's stiff clit and rubbing it in tight circles as his own clit slid in and out of Mark’s cunt.
Mark cried out, his body going taut as a bowstring. His fingers dug into Anthony's shoulders as he shuddered through his climax. The sight and feel of Mark's release pushed Anthony over the edge. He buried his face in Mark's neck, muffling his groan as relief and bliss washed over him in pulsing waves.
They lay tangled together, breathing heavily as aftershocks rippled through their bodies. When they caught their breath, they kissed deeply, then shared a more gentle kiss. Anthony pet Mark’s hair, and Mark stroked Anthony’s cheek, eyes shining with love.
They snuggled for a few minutes, then Mark peppered Anthony’s face with kisses, and stole another kiss… then another. And another. The sparks of passion rose once more; Anthony knew Mark was good for a second round.
"Please," Mark whispered, his silver eyes dark with desire.
Anthony nodded, shifting to position himself between Mark's legs. Anthony dipped his head down, trailing kisses along Mark's inner thighs before gently parting his folds with his tongue. Mark gasped and arched his back as Anthony began to lick and suck at his sensitive flesh. Anthony savored the familiar taste and scent of his lover, losing himself in the act of pleasuring Mark.
As Mark's breathing quickened, Anthony slipped two fingers inside him, curling them to stroke that perfect spot while his tongue focused on Mark's swollen clit. Mark tangled his fingers in Anthony's hair, urging him on with breathy moans and whispered elvish endearments.
Anthony could feel his own arousal building as he worked Mark towards climax. He ground his hips against the mattress, seeking some relief for the ache between his legs. Mark's thighs began to tremble as he got close to the edge.
"Anthony," Mark gasped, his back arching off the bed as he came undone beneath Anthony's ministrations. Anthony continued licking and stroking, drawing out Mark's pleasure until he gently pushed Anthony's head away, oversensitive.
Anthony moved back up Mark's body, capturing his lips in a deep kiss. Mark moaned softly, tasting himself on Anthony's tongue. His hands roamed over Anthony's back, pulling him closer.
"Your turn," Mark said, rolling them over so Anthony was on his back.
Mark kissed his way down Anthony's body, pausing to lavish attention on his chest. Anthony sighed with pleasure as Mark's clever tongue swirled around his nipples, sending sparks of arousal straight to his groin. Mark licked a slow trail down Anthony's sensitive stomach, and nibbled at his inner thighs.
When Mark finally settled between Anthony's legs, Anthony was aching with need. The first touch of Mark's tongue had him gasping, his hips bucking up involuntarily. Mark smiled against Anthony's flesh, using his hands to hold Anthony's thighs open as he set to work with lips and tongue.
Anthony lost himself in the sensations, the worries of the past day melting away under Mark's skilled lovemaking, playing him like an instrument. He threaded his fingers through Mark's silky hair, guiding him where he needed it most. Mark's tongue danced over Anthony's enlarged clit, alternating between broad strokes and focused flicks that had Anthony trembling.
"Oh G-d, Mark," Anthony moaned, his head thrown back against the pillows. "Don't stop."
Mark hummed in response, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through Anthony's body. He slipped two long fingers inside Anthony, curling them to stroke his front wall as his tongue continued its relentless assault on Anthony's clit.
Anthony felt his climax building rapidly, a tight coil of pleasure low in his belly. Mark's fingers and tongue worked in perfect harmony, driving him closer and closer to the edge. Anthony's thighs began to tremble, his breath coming in short gasps.
"Mark, I'm... I'm gonna..." Anthony panted, unable to form a complete sentence as waves of ecstasy crashed over him.
Mark redoubled his efforts, sucking Anthony's swollen clit as he curled his fingers inside. With a cry that he muffled against his arm, Anthony came hard, his body arching off the bed. Mark gentled his movements but didn't stop, drawing out Anthony's orgasm until he was quivering and oversensitive.
As Anthony came down from his high, Mark moved back up his body, pressing soft kisses along his chest and neck before capturing his lips in a tender kiss. Anthony melted into the kiss, his body still tingling with aftershocks. As their lips parted, he gazed up at Mark, marveling at the otherworldly beauty of his lover. The faint glow of Mark's skin seemed to pulse, like a distant star.
"Thank you," Anthony sighed, running his fingers through Mark's silky hair. "I needed that."
Mark smiled softly, pressing a kiss to Anthony's forehead. "As did I, my love. You carry such burdens for others. Let me carry you for a while."
They lay tangled together, basking in the afterglow. Anthony felt some of the tension from the past day begin to ebb away, replaced by a deep, bone-weary exhaustion. His eyelids grew heavy as Mark's fingers traced soothing patterns along his back.
"Rest now," Mark whispered.
Anthony drifted off to sleep, comforted by Mark's warm embrace. His dreams were a jumbled mix of images - Sören's bruised face, the long stretch of highway, Mark's elven beauty. He slept deeply, his body finally succumbing to the exhaustion of the past day.
When Anthony woke, the room was bathed in the golden light of late afternoon. Mark was still beside him, running gentle fingers through Anthony's hair.
"How long was I out?" Anthony mumbled, his voice rough with sleep.
"About four hours," Mark replied softly. "You needed it."
Anthony stretched, his muscles protesting after the long drive and their passionate lovemaking. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand, surprised to see it was already late afternoon.
"Has Sören...?" he began, a note of concern creeping into his voice.
Mark shook his head. "I haven't heard anything from his room. I suspect he's still sleeping as well."
Anthony nodded, relieved. Sören needed the rest even more than they did. He sat up slowly, running a hand through his tousled hair. "I should probably check on him soon, though. Make sure he's okay."
Mark hummed in agreement, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on Anthony's back. "Perhaps we could order some room service first? I imagine he'll be hungry when he wakes."
"Good idea," Anthony said, reaching for the room service menu on the nightstand. He perused the menu, trying to decide what might appeal to Sören. He settled on ordering a variety of options - a hearty soup, some sandwiches, and a selection of fresh fruit. He also made sure to include plenty of water and some herbal tea.
After placing the order, Anthony took a quick shower, letting the hot water soothe his aching muscles. As he dried off and got dressed, he felt a sharp twinge of anxiety about Sören. He knew the younger man was safe now, but he worried about the emotional toll of the past few days.
Once dressed, Anthony knocked softly on the connecting door to Sören's room. When there was no response, he opened it quietly, peering inside. Sören was still fast asleep, curled up in a tight ball on the bed. Anthony's heart clenched at the sight - even in sleep, Sören looked tense and guarded. He resisted the urge to go over and smooth the furrowed brow, not wanting to startle the younger man awake. Instead, he quietly closed the door and returned to his and Mark's room.
"Still sleeping," Anthony reported softly to Mark, who was now dressed and sitting in one of the room's armchairs.
Mark nodded. "Let him rest. He's been through a lot."
They sat in companionable silence until there was a knock at the door - room service had arrived. Anthony answered, thanking the attendant and wheeling the cart of food into the room. The aroma of warm soup and fresh bread filled the air.
"Should we wake him?" Anthony asked, glancing towards Sören's room.
Mark considered for a moment. "Perhaps give him another half hour or so. If he doesn't wake on his own by then, we can check on him."
Anthony nodded, settling into the other armchair. He picked at a sandwich, his appetite somewhat diminished by worry. Mark watched him with concern in his grey eyes.
"You're troubled," Mark observed softly.
Anthony sighed, setting down his half-eaten sandwich. "I just... I feel like I should have known. Should have done something sooner."
Mark reached out, taking Anthony's hand in his. "You cannot blame yourself, love. You're here now, when he needs you most. That's what matters."
Anthony squeezed Mark's hand gratefully, drawing comfort from his partner's steady presence. They sat in companionable silence for a while, the only sounds the soft hum of the air conditioning and the distant noise of traffic outside. Anthony's mind wandered, replaying the events of the past day. He couldn't shake the image of Sören's bruised face, the fear in his voice during that phone call.
Just as Anthony was about to suggest they check on Sören again, they heard movement from the adjoining room. A moment later, there was a soft knock on the connecting door.
"Come in," Anthony called.
The door opened slowly, and Sören peeked in, his hair tousled from sleep and his eyes still heavy-lidded. "Hi," he said softly.
"Hey there," Anthony replied, smiling warmly. "How are you feeling?"
Sören shrugged, stepping fully into the room. "Better, I guess," Sören said, his voice still rough with sleep. "Thank you again for coming to get me. I... I still can't believe you drove all that way."
Anthony smiled softly. "Of course we did. That's what friends are for."
Mark stood up, gesturing to the room service cart. "We ordered some food, if you're hungry. There's soup, sandwiches, and some fruit."
Sören's eyes widened slightly at the spread. "Oh, you didn't have to..."
"We wanted to," Anthony said firmly. "Come on, sit down and eat something."
Sören hesitated for a moment before settling into one of the chairs. Anthony noticed how carefully he moved, as if he was still in pain. He made a mental note to ask about any injuries later, when Sören was more comfortable.
As Sören began to eat, Anthony watched him carefully, noting how the younger man's hands trembled slightly as he lifted the spoon to his lips. Sören ate slowly at first, but as his hunger took over, he began to devour the food with more enthusiasm.
"This is really good," Sören mumbled between bites of sandwich. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," Anthony replied warmly. "Eat as much as you like. There's plenty."
As Sören ate, Anthony and Mark exchanged glances, silently communicating their concern. Now that Sören was awake and in better light, Anthony could see the full extent of the bruising on his face. The mark on his cheek had darkened to a deep purple, and there was a faint shadow around his left eye that suggested the beginnings of a black eye.
Anthony's fists clenched involuntarily at the sight of Sören's injuries. He took a deep breath, trying to keep his anger in check. Now wasn't the time for righteous fury - Sören needed calm and support.
"Sören," Anthony said, once the younger man had finished eating. "I hate to ask, but... are you hurt anywhere else? Do you need medical attention?"
Sören tensed slightly, his eyes darting away. "It's... it's not that bad," he mumbled.
Mark leaned forward, his voice soft but firm. "Sören, we're not here to judge. We just want to make sure you're okay."
Sören was quiet for a long moment, staring down at his hands. Finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "My ribs. They... they hurt when I breathe too.”
Anthony's heart sank at Sören's words. He exchanged a worried glance with Mark before turning back to Sören.
"We should get that checked out," Anthony said, gentle but firm. "Rib injuries can be serious. There's an urgent care clinic not far from here - we could take you there, get you looked at properly."
Sören's shoulders hunched, his gaze still fixed on his hands. "I don't want to be more trouble," he mumbled.
Mark leaned forward, his voice soft but firm. "Sören, look at me." He waited until Sören reluctantly met his eyes. "You are not trouble. We're here because we care about you, and we want to make sure you're alright. Please, let us help."
Sören's eyes glistened with unshed tears. He nodded slowly. "Okay," he whispered.
Anthony nodded, relief washing over him. "Alright, let's get you to that clinic then. Mark, can you look up directions?"
As Mark pulled out his phone to find the nearest urgent care center, Anthony turned his attention back to Sören. The younger man looked small and vulnerable, hunched in on himself as if trying to disappear. Anthony's heart ached at the sight.
"Hey," he said softly, reaching out to squeeze Sören's shoulder. "You're safe now. We've got you, okay?"
Sören nodded, blinking rapidly as if fighting back tears. "Thank you," he whispered.
Mark found a clinic about fifteen minutes away that was still open. They gathered their things and headed down to the car, Anthony keeping a protective hand on Sören's back as they walked. Sören flinched a little, but quickly relaxed into Anthony's touch.
As they drove to the urgent care clinic, Anthony kept stealing glances at Sören in the rearview mirror. The younger man was hunched in the backseat, arms wrapped protectively around his middle. Anthony's heart ached at the sight, anger and protectiveness warring within him.
When they arrived at the clinic, Anthony helped Sören out of the car, noticing how he winced with each movement. Inside, Anthony handled the paperwork while Mark sat with Sören in the waiting area, speaking to him softly.
The wait wasn't long, thankfully. When Sören's name was called, he looked up at Anthony with wide, scared eyes.
"Do you want one of us to go in with you?" Anthony asked.
Sören hesitated, then nodded. "You? If that's okay?"
"Of course," Anthony said, squeezing Sören's shoulder as they followed the nurse into the examination room. Sören was visibly tense, his breathing shallow and quick. As Sören sat on the exam table, Anthony pulled up a chair beside him.
"It's going to be alright," Anthony said softly. "I'm right here with you."
Sören nodded, his eyes darting nervously around the room. When the doctor came in, a kind-faced woman in her 50s, Sören seemed to relax slightly.
"Hello, I'm Dr. Chen," she said warmly. "What brings you in today?"
Sören hesitated, looking to Anthony for support. Anthony nodded encouragingly.
Sören took a deep breath, wincing slightly as he did so. "I... I was hurt," he said quietly. "My ribs. They hurt when I breathe."
Dr. Chen's expression softened with concern. "I'm sorry to hear that. Can you tell me how this happened?"
Sören's eyes darted to Anthony again, who gave him an encouraging nod. "One of my roommates," Sören whispered. "She... she hit me. Kicked me when I was down. She was wearing steel-toed boots."
Anthony felt a surge of protective anger, but kept his expression neutral for Sören's sake. Dr. Chen's face remained professional, but her eyes flashed with sympathy.
"I'm so sorry that happened to you," she said. "Let's take a look and see what we're dealing with, okay?"
As Dr. Chen examined Sören, Anthony stayed close, offering quiet words of encouragement. Dr. Chen gently palpated Sören's ribs, frowning slightly at his sharp intake of breath.
"There's definitely some bruising here," she said. "I'd like to get an x-ray to rule out any fractures. Is that alright?"
Sören nodded, looking anxious. Anthony squeezed his hand reassuringly.
"I'll be right outside waiting," Anthony promised as a nurse came to take Sören for the x-ray.
While Sören was gone, Anthony paced the small exam room, his mind racing. He couldn't shake the image of Sören being kicked while he was down, couldn't stop imagining how scared and alone he must have felt. Anthony's fists clenched at his sides, anger bubbling up inside him.
When Sören returned, looking pale and shaky, Anthony was immediately by his side, helping him back onto the exam table. "You're doing great," Anthony said, giving Sören's hand a gentle squeeze.
They waited anxiously for Dr. Chen to return with the results. When she came back in, her expression was serious but not overly concerned.
"Good news is, there are no fractures," she said. "But you do have some pretty severe bruising on your ribs. It's going to be painful for a while, but with proper care, you should heal up just fine."
Sören let out a shaky breath of relief. Anthony felt some of the tension leave his own body as well.
Dr. Chen continued, "I'm going to prescribe you some pain medication and an anti-inflammatory. Ice packs will help with the swelling. Try to take it easy for the next few weeks - no heavy lifting or strenuous activity. Deep breathing exercises can help prevent complications like pneumonia, but stop if it causes too much pain."
She paused, her expression softening. "Sören, I have to ask - are you safe now? Do you have somewhere to go where this won't happen again?"
Sören nodded, glancing at Anthony. "Yes, I'm... I'm staying with friends now. I won't be going back there."
Dr. Chen smiled. "I'm glad to hear that. Here's some information on local resources for survivors of domestic violence," she said, handing Sören a pamphlet. "They can provide counseling and other support services if you need it.”
After leaving the clinic with Sören's prescriptions in hand, Anthony drove them to a nearby pharmacy. As Mark waited in the car with Sören, Anthony went inside to fill the prescriptions and pick up some ice packs.
While waiting for the medication, Anthony found himself staring blankly at a display of greeting cards, his mind swirling with worry and barely suppressed anger. The image of Sören being kicked while he was down kept replaying in his head. He clenched his fists at his sides, taking deep breaths to calm himself. Sören needed him to be strong and steady right now, not consumed by rage.
When the pharmacist called his name, Anthony collected the medications and headed back to the car. He found Mark in the backseat with Sören, speaking to him softly in what sounded like Quenya. Sören's eyes were closed, his head resting against Mark's shoulder. Anthony's heart clenched at the sight - Sören looked so vulnerable.
As Anthony slid into the driver's seat, Mark glanced up, his eyes filled with concern. "He's asleep," Mark said softly. "The pain and stress caught up with him."
Anthony nodded, starting the car as quietly as possible. "Let's get him back to the hotel. He needs rest."
They drove in silence, Anthony sneaking glances in the rearview mirror at Sören's sleeping form. The bruise on his cheek seemed even darker now in the fading light of evening. Anthony's hands tightened on the steering wheel.
Back at the hotel, Anthony and Mark gently roused Sören and helped him to his room. Sören winced as he sat down on the bed, his hand going to his side.
"Let's get some ice on those ribs," Anthony said softly. He wrapped one of the ice packs in a towel and handed it to Sören. "Here, hold this against where it hurts the most."
Sören nodded tiredly, pressing the ice pack to his side with a small hiss. Anthony busied himself getting a glass of water and the pain medication.
"Here," he said, handing Sören the pills and water. "These should help with the pain."
As Sören took the medication, Anthony noticed his hands were shaking slightly. Without thinking, he reached out to steady the glass, his fingers brushing against Sören's. A small jolt went through him.
He wanted nothing more than to wrap the younger man in his arms and shield him from any further pain or harm. But he knew Sören needed space and time to process everything that had happened.
"Do you need anything else?" Anthony asked.
“Um…” Sören bit his lower lip and looked down. “I have a jar of THC gummies in my duffel bag.”
“I don’t think you should be getting high while you’re on pain meds,” Anthony said.
“I'd just be taking it to help me sleep.”
“Still.” Anthony frowned a little. “Give it a few days before you have any, I don’t want you to have a reaction.”
Mark asked, "Are you hungry at all?"
Sören shook his head. "No, I... I think I just want to sleep," he said quietly.
"Of course." Anthony nodded. "We'll be right next door if you need anything, okay? Don't hesitate to call or knock, no matter what time it is."
Sören gave a small nod, his eyes already heavy with exhaustion and medication. "Thank you," he said. "For everything.”
As Anthony and Mark left Sören's room, closing the door softly behind them, Anthony felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him. The events of the past day and a half seemed to crash down on him all at once. He leaned against the wall, running a hand over his face.
Mark's arm slipped around his waist, steadying him. "Come, love," he said. "You need rest too."
They made their way back to their own room, Anthony's legs feeling like lead. As soon as the door closed behind them, Mark dropped his glamour, his true elven form shimmering into view. He guided Anthony to sit on the edge of the bed, kneeling to remove his shoes.
"You don't have to do that," Anthony protested weakly.
Mark looked up at him, his grey eyes shining with affection. "Let me take care of you.”
Anthony sighed, feeling the weight of the day's events settle heavily on his shoulders. He allowed Mark to remove his shoes and help him undress, too exhausted to protest further. As Mark's gentle hands moved over his body, Anthony felt some of the tension begin to ease from his muscles.
Once they were both stripped down to their underwear, Mark guided Anthony to lie back on the bed. The elf settled beside him, propping himself up on one elbow to gaze down at Anthony with concern.
"How are you feeling, truly?" Mark asked softly, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on Anthony's chest.
Anthony closed his eyes, letting out a long breath. "Angry," he admitted. "Worried. Guilty that I didn't realize how bad things were for Sören sooner."
Mark leaned down to press a gentle kiss to Anthony's forehead. "You cannot blame yourself, love.”
Anthony sighed, leaning into Mark's touch. "I know, logically. But seeing him like that... G-d, Mark. How could anyone hurt him like that?"
Mark's eyes darkened with an ancient sorrow. "There is much cruelty in this world," he said softly. "But there is also great kindness. You showed that today, my love."
Anthony reached up, tracing the delicate point of Mark's ear. "We both did," he said.
They lay in silence for a while, Mark's fingers continuing their soothing patterns on Anthony's skin. Anthony felt some of the tension begin to ebb from his body, replaced by a bone-deep weariness.
"What do we do now?" Anthony asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Mark considered for a moment. "We help him heal," he said simply. "We let him stay with us for awhile and give him a safe place to recover, both physically and emotionally. And when he's ready, we help him rebuild his life."
Anthony nodded, feeling a swell of love for his partner. Mark always knew how to cut through to the heart of things.
"I'm worried about his mental state," Anthony said. "He's been through so much trauma already, with his guardians' reaction to his transition and everything. And now this..."
Mark hummed thoughtfully. "We'll need to be patient. Give him time and space to process everything. But also let him know he's not alone."
"Yeah," Anthony agreed softly. He was quiet for a moment, then said, "I can't help but feel... protective of him. More than just as a friend."
Mark's lips curved into a small smile. "I've noticed," he said. "Your feelings for him run deep."
Anthony felt a flush creep up his neck. "I... I care about him," he confessed softly. "More than I probably should."
Mark's expression was gentle, understanding. "Love is never wrong, Anthony. Your heart is big enough to hold many."
Anthony sighed, closing his eyes. "But it's not fair to him. He's vulnerable right now, he needs friends he can trust, not... complications."
Mark's fingers traced Anthony's jawline. "Perhaps. But feelings cannot always be controlled. What matters is how we act on them."
Anthony nodded, leaning into Mark's touch. "You're right, of course. I won't... I won't do anything to make him uncomfortable. He needs to heal."
"And we will help him do that," Mark said softly. "Together."
Anthony opened his eyes, gazing up at his partner with love and gratitude. "What did I ever do to deserve you?" he wondered aloud.
Mark's lips curved into a tender smile. "You loved me," he said. "Through all my darkness and pain, you loved me. And you continue to love, so fiercely and completely. It's one of the many things I adore about you."
Anthony felt his throat tighten with emotion. He reached up, tangling his fingers in Mark's silky hair and pulling him down for a deep, passionate kiss. Mark responded eagerly, his body melting against Anthony's.
As they kissed, Anthony felt the familiar spark of desire ignite between them. But it was tempered by exhaustion and the emotional weight of the day. When they finally broke apart, both were breathing heavily.
"We should rest," Mark said, pressing a soft kiss to Anthony's forehead.
Anthony nodded, feeling the pull of sleep tugging at him. "You're right. But... will you hold me?"
Mark's smile was tender as he gathered Anthony into his arms. "Always, my love."
They settled into a comfortable position, Anthony's back pressed against Mark's chest, the elf's arm draped protectively over him. Anthony let out a long, shaky breath, feeling some of the tension finally leave his body.
As he drifted towards sleep, Anthony's last conscious thought was of Sören, hoping the younger man was finding some peace in his own rest.
Anthony woke early the next morning, the events of the previous day rushing back as soon as he opened his eyes. He carefully extricated himself from Mark's embrace, not wanting to wake his still-sleeping partner. After a quick shower, Anthony quietly slipped out of their room to check on Sören.
He knocked softly on Sören's door, listening for any sound of movement inside. When there was no response, Anthony used the keycard to quietly let himself in, worried that Sören might be in pain or distress.
The room was dim, curtains still drawn against the early morning light. Anthony could make out Sören's form curled up on the bed, his breathing slow and even. Relief washed over Anthony at the sight of Sören sleeping peacefully.
As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Anthony noticed that Sören had kicked off the blankets in his sleep. Without thinking, he quietly approached the bed, gently pulling the blankets back up over Sören's sleeping form. As he did so, Sören stirred slightly, mumbling something incoherent. Anthony froze, not wanting to wake him, but Sören's eyes fluttered open, squinting up at Anthony in confusion.
"Anthony?" Sören's voice was rough with sleep. "What time is it?"
"Early," Anthony said softly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you. I just wanted to check on you."
Sören pushed himself up to sitting, wincing as the movement jostled his ribs. Anthony's hands hovered, wanting to help but unsure if his touch would be welcome.
"How are you feeling?" Anthony asked, perching on the edge of the bed.
Sören ran a hand through his tousled hair. "Like shit.”
Sören winced as he shifted, his hand going to his side. "Everything hurts," he admitted quietly. "Here, too. I feel all... broken and fucked up inside." He put his hand on his heart, looking down in despair.
Anthony's heart clenched at the pain in Sören's voice. "Well, I'll never let anyone hurt you like that again." Never again, Anthony promised himself, reflexively reaching for the small Star of David pendant he wore around his neck. "Let's get you some more pain medication," he said gently. "And maybe some breakfast? You should eat something with the pills."
Sören nodded tiredly. "Yeah, okay."
Anthony helped Sören sit up more comfortably, propping pillows behind his back. He then busied himself getting a glass of water and Sören's medication. As Sören took the pills, Anthony called down to room service to order breakfast.
"I got you some oatmeal with fruit," Anthony said. "And some toast. Nothing too heavy, but it should help settle your stomach with the meds."
Sören gave a small, grateful smile. "Thanks. You didn't have to go to all this trouble -”
“You’re not trouble.” Anthony patted the younger man’s knee. “You’re family.”
Anthony's words hung in the air between them, heavy with meaning. Sören's eyes widened slightly, glistening with unshed tears.
"Family," Sören repeated softly, his voice thick with emotion.
Anthony nodded, giving Sören's knee a gentle squeeze. "That's right. You're not alone in this, Sören. Mark and I, we're here for you. For as long as you need."
Sören ducked his head, a few tears escaping to roll down his cheeks. Anthony's heart ached at the sight. Without thinking, he reached out, wiping away Sören's tears with his thumb. Sören leaned into the touch, closing his eyes.
"I don't know what I did to deserve friends like you," Sören said.
"You're you," Anthony said simply.
Anthony's heart swelled with affection as he looked at Sören. The younger man looked so vulnerable, his eyes still glistening with unshed tears. Caught up in emotion, Anthony leaned forward and gave Sören's forehead a little kiss.
"You deserve all the kindness in the world," Anthony husked as he pulled back.
Sören's eyes widened slightly at the tender gesture, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. For a moment, they simply gazed at each other, something unspoken passing between them.
The moment was broken by a knock at the door - room service with their breakfast. Anthony reluctantly stood to answer it, wheeling the cart of food into the room.
As they ate, Anthony kept looking at Sören, feeling a renewed surge of protectiveness wash over him.
"So," Anthony said, setting down his coffee mug. "We should probably talk about what happens next."
Sören tensed slightly, his spoon pausing halfway to his mouth. "What do you mean?"
Anthony reached out, laying his hand over Sören's. "I mean, you can't go back to your old place. And I don't want you to feel rushed into any decisions, but... Mark and I were thinking, if you'd like, you could come stay with us for a while, until you get back on your feet. We have plenty of room at our ranch, so don’t worry about how long it takes - months, even a couple years, if you need it. OK?”
Sören's eyes widened. "You... you'd do that for me?”
Anthony squeezed Sören's hand gently. "Of course we would. You're family, remember? We want you to be safe and have time to heal, without worrying about where you'll live or how you'll pay rent. You can save up money so you don’t ever have to be in a shitty situation like the one you were in, ever again."
Sören's eyes filled with tears again. "I don't know what to say," he whispered. "That's... that's so generous. But I don't want to be a burden-"
"You're not a burden," Anthony said firmly. "Not at all. We have plenty of space, and Mark and I would love to have you there. You could help out with the animals if you want, once you're feeling better. Or just focus on your art. Whatever you need."
Sören was quiet for a long moment, staring down at their joined hands. When he looked back up at Anthony, his eyes were shining with a mix of gratitude and uncertainty.
"Are you sure?" Sören asked softly. "I mean, it's a big commitment. And I don't want to impose or cause any problems between you and Mark..."
Anthony shook his head, squeezing Sören's hand reassuringly. "You won't be imposing at all. Mark and I have already discussed it, and we both want you there. Our home is your home, for as long as you need it."
Sören bit his lip, clearly still hesitant. "But what about my job? My art supplies? All my stuff back at the old place?"
"We can figure all of that out," Anthony said. "We could probably find you a job where you can do remote work, or I can see if there’s an opening at my office for receptionists or janitorial duties.” Anthony was a veterinarian. “If not, I can put my feelers out with other vets in the area. OK? Something will pan out, but it’s fine if you need awhile to just… be. We’re well off.” Mark was particularly rich. While he made over a hundred thousand a year as a concert harpist with the Seattle Symphony, which was nothing to sneeze at, most of his wealth had been acquired by sheer virtue of his immortal elven lifespan - entertaining famous patrons during the Renaissance, selling artifacts from ancient civilizations here and there - but Sören didn’t need to know all that right now.
"As for your things," Anthony continued, "we can arrange to have them shipped once you're settled.”
“If those fuckers haven’t looted them,” Sören muttered. “I bet Aiden’s already selling them for drug money.”
Anthony scowled - the picture with Sören’s old roommates was looking worse and worse. “Or we can buy you new stuff. Whatever’s easiest and makes you most comfortable."
Sören nodded slowly, a look of wonder crossing his face. "I... I don't know how to thank you," he said softly.
Anthony smiled warmly. "You don't have to thank us. Just focus on healing and getting back on your feet. That's all we want."
Sören's eyes welled up again, and he ducked his head. Anthony could see his shoulders shaking slightly with suppressed sobs. Without hesitation, he moved to sit beside Sören on the bed, wrapping an arm gently around his shoulders.
"It's okay," Anthony said. "Let it out. You're safe now."
At Anthony's words, Sören broke down completely, burying his face in Anthony's chest as he sobbed. Anthony held him carefully, mindful of his injured ribs, rubbing soothing circles on his back.
"Shh, it's alright," Anthony murmured, rocking Sören slightly. "You're safe now. We've got you."
Sören clung to Anthony, his body shaking with the force of his sobs. Anthony could feel the younger man's tears soaking through his shirt, but he didn't mind. He simply held Sören, whispering soft words of comfort and reassurance.
After several minutes, Sören's sobs began to quiet, though he didn't pull away from Anthony's embrace. Anthony continued to hold him, one hand gently stroking Sören's hair.
"I'm sorry," Sören mumbled against Anthony’s skin.
Anthony continued to hold Sören gently, stroking his hair. "You have nothing to be sorry for," he said. "You've been through so much. It's okay to let it out."
Sören sniffled, his face still pressed against Anthony's chest. "I just... I feel so stupid. For letting things get so bad. For not leaving sooner."
Anthony's heart clenched at the self-recrimination in Sören's voice. He pulled back slightly, cupping Sören's face in his hands and tilting it up to meet his gaze.
"Listen to me," Anthony said firmly, but gently. "None of this is your fault. The only person to blame is the one who hurt you. You survived, Sören. You reached out for help when you needed it. That takes incredible strength and courage."
Sören's eyes welled up.
“You’re going to be all right,” Anthony said, tousling Sören’s curls. “I promise you. It’s all going to be OK.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Anthony held Sören's gaze, his heart aching at the pain and vulnerability he saw there. "I know I'm right," he said softly. "You're stronger than you realize, Sören. And you're not alone anymore."
Sören nodded, leaning into Anthony's touch. For a moment, they simply sat there, Anthony's hands cradling Sören's face, their eyes locked. Anthony felt a familiar flutter in his chest, a warmth spreading through him that he knew he shouldn't indulge. But it was hard to ignore the pull he felt towards Sören, especially seeing him so raw and open.
The moment was broken by a soft knock at the door. Anthony reluctantly pulled away from Sören as Mark's voice called out, "Everything all right in there?"
"Come in," Anthony called back, giving Sören's shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
Mark entered the room, his eyes immediately taking in the scene - Anthony sitting close to Sören on the bed, Sören's tear-stained face, the half-eaten breakfast on the cart. His expression softened with concern.
"I hope I'm not interrupting," Mark said.
"Not at all," Anthony replied, giving Sören's shoulder another squeeze before standing up. "We were just talking about next steps."
Mark nodded, moving further into the room. "And how are you feeling this morning, Sören?" he asked, his voice warm with genuine care.
Sören managed a small, watery smile. "Better, I think. Still sore, but... better."
Mark's lips curved into a gentle smile. "I'm glad to hear it. Anthony mentioned our offer for you to come stay with us. What do you think?"
“I think I’d like that.” Sören nodded.
“Good.” Mark nodded back, and met Anthony’s eyes. “I hate to sound like I’m rushing you guys, but we need to get back in the car soon. We have a very long road ahead of us.”
In more ways than one, Anthony thought to himself, looking into Sören’s sad brown eyes. Anthony knew trauma wasn’t an instant recovery - he’d been through the wringer himself, twelve years ago when he - then known as Antonia - left his abusive, cheating first husband Steve and began transitioning to male, and Steve, paranoid that everyone would think he was gay, set out to make Anthony’s life a living hell. To get as far away from Steve as possible, Anthony had moved from the UK to the United States on a H-1B visa and worked on transferring his veterinary license. Then he'd needed years of therapy to work through the emotional scars Steve had left. So while his situation was different from Sören’s, he still understood what it was like to have one’s life go up in flames. And unlike Anthony’s journey twelve years ago, Sören wouldn’t have to do his all by himself.
But it would still be a lot to deal with, and Anthony hoped Mark wouldn’t end up resenting him when things got rough. He knew Mark had a big heart, and was already fond of Sören, sometimes joining in their online chats. Even so…
Sören nodded once again, and got back to work, finishing his breakfast. When he was done, Anthony helped Sören get his bags together.
“Come on,” Anthony told him with a smile. “Let’s go home.”