Even though Mark had admonished Sören to tell Dooku how he felt while they were on their honeymoon, and the two weeks away from his best friend just made Sören ache for him even more... Sören still couldn't bring himself to say anything about it when they got back to Corvallis.
Sören didn't have a whole lot of opportunities to tell Dooku over the month of August, either. It used to be that Sören and Dooku would still make time for each other and get together at least twice a week if not more than that, but after Sören came back they went down to seeing each other once a week, and then, towards the end of the month, they went for a week and a half between visits. As August became September, Sören and Dooku went two weeks between visits. They still kept in regular touch via e-mail and text message, but Sören knew something had changed, and it had changed when Sören went on honeymoon. He wanted to believe that Dooku would be an adult and tell him if he'd said or done something wrong, he wanted to chalk up less frequent visits to Dooku getting more involved with hobbies like classical music concerts and leftist demonstrations in Portland. But he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something else happening.
The week before the fall semester of OSU was about to start, Sören steeled himself and called Dooku instead of texting. Dooku answered after two rings.
"Hello, Sören."
"Hi, Nico. Is now a bad time?"
"Not necessarily. I have a roast coming out of the oven in fifteen minutes, so if this conversation is shorter than that, then it's not a bad time."
"OK. I'll keep this brief and to the point." Before I lose my nerve. "We haven't spent a whole lot of time together since I got back from my honeymoon. As you know I'm married now, but I told you when Mark and I got together I was still going to make time for you, since you're my best friend and... I still want to, but you're always busy. It's not that we haven't seen each other at all, but it's been, like, two weeks since the last time we hung out."
There was a pause, then Dooku sighed and said, "You're right. I apologize, Sören. I have been busy but you've made an effort to make time for me and I need to be better about doing the same for you."
"Thank you, I appreciate it. I care about you very much and I don't want to lose you." Sören bit his hand to keep himself from saying I love you.
There was another pause and then Dooku said, "I have an idea. When the semester starts, how about if I drive you home from campus a couple of times per week? I know it's more convenient to go with Mark, as you know you live together -"
Sören tried not to laugh. He felt a pang, tears coming to his eyes; how he'd missed those as you knows.
"But along the way we could stop and do something like get coffee or go to the park. It would be convenient for both of us to get together in the late afternoon into early evening, yes?"
"I'd like that," Sören said honestly. "And we can still do day trips sometimes, maybe, like into Portland, or going to Cannon Beach?"
"Indeed. I'm afraid I won't have time for day trips more than once or twice a month or so, my free time isn't what it used to be, but at least with us riding together twice or three times a week it balances out."
"Sometimes is better than never. Thanks, Nico. I was getting worried -"
"Oh no, Sören." Dooku sighed again. "I am so very sorry if it seems like you've been pushed away. You needn't worry. I've just had more on my plate the last while."
Sören wondered about it, but didn't ask. He assumed it was more activist work in Portland, something Dooku was passionate about - and Sören loved him for it. Sören didn't go to protests because he worried about getting arrested and getting in trouble with immigration, even though he was an American citizen now. "OK, Nico. How about the first day of school, we ride back and get coffee?" Sören couldn't resist the snark. "We'll need it, if the coffee in the cafeteria is still shit."
Dooku chuckled. "That sounds like a plan, Sören."
"All right. I won't keep you. Enjoy your roast, Nico."
"Have a good night, Sören."
Sören hugged the phone - he felt stupid about it but it was pure instinct, wishing he could hug Dooku, even though feeling Dooku's tall, trim, strong body against his just made it worse. When Sören put his phone back in his pocket he saw Mark leaning against the doorjamb with his arms folded and Sören jumped, startled, then calmed down.
"I didn't mean to frighten you," Mark said, "but I couldn't help eavesdropping."
Oh boy, here we go. Sören frowned. "You're going to lecture me again, aren't you?"
"Sören, what do I have to do to get you to just tell him already? You're worried you're losing him as a friend, well has it occurred to you that maybe he also has feelings for you and now that we're married and he doesn't know you're poly, it hurts to be around you?"
Sören's mouth opened. He hadn't considered that train of logic. "I mean, I don't even think he's gay -"
"Here we go again," Mark muttered, echoing Sören's internal sentiments about his lecturing. Like father like son, Sören thought to himself with some mild amusement.
"And I assumed he's just been busy."
"I know you, and I know you're worrying you offended him. Maybe consider that you being 'out of reach' is the offense."
"What if you're wrong?"
"What if I'm right?"
Their eyes locked and Sören grumbled. But if that possibility held even a grain of truth, the thought that Dooku might be hurting tore at him. "OK. I'll tell him before the month is over," he conceded. "Semester starts on the twentieth so that gives me ten days to the end of the month, já?"
Mark nodded, but gave him a stern look. "I'm going to hold you to that."
Sören desperately needed the moment of levity to ease the tension, and the dread he was already feeling over having a conversation that potentially could offend Dooku and ruin everything. "Hi Going To Hold You To That."
Mark came over, swatted Sören's bottom hard, and tweaked his nose. Sören leaned in and stood on his tiptoes to kiss Mark's cheek, which was a feint for blowing a raspberry into Mark's neck. Mark spanked Sören's ass again, and then grabbed a fistful of Sören's curls, dragging him in the direction of their bedroom. "Here, brat. Dinner won't be ready for awhile so let me reward you for finally pulling your head out of your ass."
"Your head can go up there," Sören teased.
"Mhm." Mark grinned as he gave Sören a playful shove onto the bed.
_
On the first day of school it rained, reminding everyone that after a dry, bright summer, they were still in the Pacific Northwest, nicknamed the "Pacific Northwet" for a reason. Sören didn't mind rain - his own hometown of Akureyri was pretty rainy - but neither of them were in the mood to go to the park after school, so they went to Starbucks instead. That was still all right by Sören, as it was now pumpkin spice season and so he relaxed with a big pumpkin spice latte, with extra whipped cream.
Conversation was fairly straightforward, about their lesson plans and their teaching assistants, and then their cats, Sören's latest art projects, what Dooku had been reading, and the usual complaints about Trump and the Republicans. Even though they weren't discussing anything particularly important, the simple act of sharing made Sören feel that closeness again, weaving that magic circle around them of safety and trust.
On the way back, as they drove through the rain, Sören felt nicely mellow, warmed from the pumpkin spice latte and spending time with someone he was deeply fond of. Dooku had the car radio on, tuned to the oldies station, and after near-dozing off in the passenger seat, Sören was roused back to harsh reality with 10cc.
I'm not in love
So don't forget it
It's just a silly phase I'm going through
And just because
I call you up
Don't get me wrong, don't think you've got it made
I'm not in love, no no, it's because..
I like to see you
But then again
That doesn't mean you mean that much to me
So if I call you
Don't make a fuss
Don't tell your friends about the two of us
I'm not in love, no no, it's because..
Sören squirmed in his seat, face on fire. I feel personally attacked by this song. He swallowed hard and looked out the window, watching the rain.
It got worse. After "I'm Not In Love" was over, then Todd Rundgren sang:
Hello, it's me
I've thought about us for a long, long time
Maybe I think too much but something's wrong
There's something here that doesn't last too long
Maybe I shouldn't think of you as mine
Seeing you
Or seeing anything as much as I do you
I take for granted that you're always there
I take for granted that you just don't care
Sometimes I can't help seeing all the way through...
Sören blinked back tears. This was hitting too close to home. He felt stupid, about to cry over a 1970s pop song, but it was like Todd Rundgren had downloaded thoughts and feelings right out of his mind.
Think of me
You know that I'd be with you if I could
I'll come around to see you once in a while
Or if I ever need a reason to smile
And spend the night if you think I should...
Sören took a deep breath, fists clenched, heart racing. There's your sign, he told himself. Tell him, it's now or never...
Sören cleared his throat. "Jæja. Nico? I have something to tell you."
"Actually, Sören, there's something I have to tell you as well."
Sören's eyebrows shot up. He hadn't been expecting that - but now that Dooku had mentioned it, Sören wondered if this something-that-Dooku-had-to-tell-him had anything to do with why Dooku was spending less time with him as of late. Sören's eyes widened as the gears in his head turned, speculating on the possibilities. He considered Dooku's age - Dooku would be seventy in December - and then it occurred to him that cancer meant a lot of doctor's visits, and... "Oh god, it's cancer, isn't it."
"No." Dooku winced. "No, Sören, it's not cancer."
Before Sören could say "thank fuck", breathing a sigh of relief, Dooku went on, "I've started seeing someone."
Sören felt like his jaw was about to hit the floor. The entire time he'd known Dooku, he was single, and while Sören knew he couldn't expect that to last forever, Sören was still shocked. And now it made sense. That was why Dooku had been around less.
"While you were on honeymoon, I... went out on a date." Dooku's cheeks flushed pink. "And the reason why I'm telling you now is because we're going to start living together next month - I wanted to wait to tell you until I was sure things were working out. I'd like you to meet my partner, perhaps you and Toni could be friends too."
Some bimbo named Toni, who probably wants a sugar daddy. Sören knew it was unfair to judge someone by their name, but all he could think of was Toni Basil singing "Hey Mickey" in her cheerleader outfit and he felt like he was going to puke. Sören tried to smile. Then he figured out something that had been bothering the back of his mind since his honeymoon. "Oh, that's why you went to see Ready Player One. I didn't think that movie was your taste at all."
"It wasn't, but I enjoyed Toni's company."
Sören tried to smile again. He felt like screaming, his hopes breaking and falling in pieces around him and over him, shards in his skin, bleeding out.
"Anyway, how about you and Mark come over for dinner on Sunday, and you can meet Toni?"
"OK." Sören blinked back tears again, and started taking deep breaths, trying to pull himself together. Feeling a part of him dying inside. "That sounds good." Takk, I hate it.
"You had something to tell me?"
"I forgot," Sören lied. "It wasn't that important."
Sören kept himself composed until he got to the door. As soon as he walked in, the tears came, spilling silently. Mark was waiting for him in the kitchen and the look of concern on Mark's face made him sob aloud. Mark went right to him and hugged him tight, and Sören fell apart in Mark's arms, weeping, wailing, heaving.
"What happened, love?" Mark began to rock him and pet his curls. "Did you and Professor Dooku fight?"
Sören shook his head. "Worse."
Mark picked up Sören's head and looked him in the eye. "Did you tell him? Did it not go well?"
"No, I didn't tell him. And I'm... not... going to tell him. I can't now." Sören sobbed harder.
"Why? Sören, tell me. What's going on?"
Sören couldn't make words, only tears. He felt hysteria, like he'd witnessed something traumatic, and that made him embarrassed and made him cry even more.
Mark led Sören over to the couch. Snúður came over with a worried-sounding "prrp?" and climbed onto Sören, aggressively headbutting him. Then the cat stood up on his hind legs and began grooming Sören's face, kissing his tears with his sandpaper tongue. Sören managed a little laugh and stroked the cat, who purred loudly, vibrating. Mark skritched Sören's scalp like he was a cat, his other hand rubbing Sören's back.
Sören found words. "Nico is seeing someone. He told me about it in the car. That's... that's why he hasn't been asking to hang out as much."
"I see."
"He wants us to come over on Sunday and meet his new partner."
Mark nodded. "At least he's still trying to make time for -"
"Someone named Toni." Sören sneered. "I told you he's not fucking gay, it's some young thing named Toni who got him to see Ready Motherfucking Player One, you know he would never see that on his own..." Sören broke down again, sobs tearing at him, heart breaking and breaking. He knew he was in love with Dooku, he'd known it for awhile, but it was still a shock to him to feel how much, now that it seemed Dooku was completely out of reach.
"Wait, wait." Mark put up a hand. "Toni, or Tony?"
"What?"
"Did he use pronou -"
But Mark didn't get to finish the sentence. Sören fell over on him, crying so hard he was screaming. The pain of the loss kept going like a broken record, hitting that note of grief over and over again. Sören was starting to shut down mentally, not able to calm down, stuck in that breaking-breaking-breaking shatterpoint.
Mark finally got up. He came back a minute later with a bottle of water and an orange pill bottle, Sören's PRN for panic attacks and meltdowns. Sören downed one and nursed the water as Mark pet him and rocked him. When Sören finished his water, Mark picked him up off the couch and carried him to bed. Snúður trotted alongside them.
"Take a nap while I get dinner ready," Mark said. "We don't have to talk about this anymore today, it's clear it's upsetting you. If you want..." Mark sighed. "As much as I hate lying, I'm willing to make up some excuse if you'd rather skip dinner at his place on Sunday -"
"No, we better go," Sören said in a small voice. As much as it hurt, Sören would rather stay friends and have Dooku in his life a little bit, what Dooku was capable of giving with his new time constraints. He wasn't sure he could be friends with this Toni person - again, Sören bristled, thinking that sounded like a bimbo name - but he would make an honest effort for Dooku's sake.
For Ñolo. Sören closed his eyes and remembered the words of ancient times: You will lead, and I will follow.
_
The days dragged on from Thursday till Sunday. After raining all throughout Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, there were clear skies on Sunday and in the morning Dooku texted to inform Sören that if the sunny weather held he would be grilling outside as a farewell to summer.
Mark made a potato salad to bring over, and on the way Sören decided to stop at a florist and buy a bouquet of flowers to take with them, trying to be welcoming and supportive even as he still felt the bitter sting of defeat.
On their way to the door Mark carried the dish of potato salad and Sören carried the bouquet of orange tiger lilies and red-kissed-yellow fireflower roses, heart pounding with every step. Before they could knock, the door opened.
It was not Dooku who opened the door. There was a man, roughly the same height as Sören, lean yet muscular build, with short, neatly styled and gelled black hair, wide-set mossy green eyes, boyishly handsome - thirties if Sören had to guess - wearing a forest green cashmere sweater that brought out his eyes, and indigo jeans.
"Hi," the man said, smiling a gorgeous, dazzling smile. He could be a model.
"Er, hi," Sören said, blinking - whatever he'd been expecting, it wasn't that.
Dooku strode to the door, wearing a navy blue sweater and khakis, and casually put an arm around the younger man. "Sören, Mark, good afternoon. Please come in."
Sören almost dropped the bouquet. "That's Tony." He felt like an idiot, face on fire.
The man raised an eyebrow and gave Dooku a look. He turned back to Sören and said, "Please call me Anthony. Very few people are allowed to get away with calling me Tony." He gave Dooku a look again.
"Er, yes, sorry, I should have thought before I told him," Dooku said, patting Anthony's shoulder. Dooku cleared his throat. "Sören, Mark, this is my partner, Anthony Hewlett-Johnson. Anthony, this is my best friend Sören Sigurðsson, and his husband, Mark Lauer. They're professors at OSU."
Dooku took the flowers and the potato salad and Anthony put out his hand; as he and Sören shook, Anthony's grip was strong and firm.
Sören was reeling, feeling ready to fall over, his head spinning. Mark spoke into his mind with ósanwe. I told you he was gay.
Macalaurë, could we not.
Maglor's eyes twinkled, smirking as he shook Anthony's hand. "A pleasure."
"It's nice to finally meet you," Anthony said in a deep, crisp British accent that reminded Sören of BBC newscasters. "Especially you, Sören. Nicolae has told me a lot about you."
"He told me next to nothing about you." Including you being a dude. Sören couldn't believe it. He found himself feeling even more bitter about not taking his chances with Dooku, than if "Tony" had in fact been a "Toni". He's gay. He's gay and I didn't fucking know.
Told you, Mark spoke into his mind again.
YOU'RE GROUNDED.
Mark winked before he took Sören to grab a seat on the couch. Sören tried not to look at Anthony's tight, shapely ass in those jeans as Anthony walked to the loveseat.
Sören had an unsettled, spooked feeling, and not just from the shock of the revelation that Dooku was gay - that they'd gone all this time and Sören hadn't known. When Anthony sat down and picked up a glass of lemonade sitting on the table, suddenly bells and whistles went off in Sören's head, remembering a dream he'd had in 2017.
Just as they grab their wands, the lanterns go out in the bedroom, leaving them in complete darkness. Magic missiles are being hurled against the shields around the house, not quite penetrating, just enough to vibrate and be felt, and the feeling is ugly. They run down the hall, and as the door opens Sören feels a wave of terror, frozen in place. He wants to drop to his knees and lay on the ground, hands over his head. His lover's mouth is open, breath in a gasp, shaking - Sören knows he's feeling the same fear.
Glass shatters, and his lover grabs him and they push on ahead.
There are great whirling shadows in the sky. Sören is reminded of the painting The Scream by Edvard Munch but these are real and in the flesh, like clouds of ash in alien-human form, writhing, hideous, screaming, keening in a way that Munch's dark mind couldn't possibly conceive of.
"Dementors," his lover says just as one swoops towards them.
That wave of fear again, no fight, no flight, only freeze. Too weak. Sören knows that's bullshit, but his body is refusing to comply with the logic part of his brain. They're closing in now, the darkness pressing, crushing like a vise...
His lover raises his rowan wand, and commands, "Expecto Patronum!"
Sören watches as a beam of light shoots out of the wand and takes the form of a mighty falcon made of blue light, stardust dripping from him like drops of water from an ocean.
Sören raises his own wand made of elder, and shouts out "Expecto Patronum!"
Blue light blasts out of his wand and a phoenix flies to join his lover's falcon, made of blue-orange-gold-white flame but tinged with silver-blue in the light of the Patronus charm. Blue light mingles with orange fire like the sun at dawn. The Patronus falcon and phoenix begin to dance around each other, a mating dance, spiraling together. At last their tails entwine and the light between them grows brighter brighter brighter, like a white supernova. The Dementors give one last shriek as the white light swallows them up, as everything goes white like a nuclear flash.
Then there had been the encounter at the gas station in Portland later that fall, with the man right out of his dream.
Sören whacked Dooku's arm and said, "Hey, jerkface is getting out. I'm gonna, just..."
The man had his back turned to Sören as he got out of the car - leather trenchcoat, short black hair neatly styled. Sören got out of Dooku's Jaguar, put his fingers in his lips, and whistled. "HEY! ASSHOLE!"
The man started to turn around, as Fleetwood Mac continued blaring out of the car.
And if you don't love me now
You will never love me again
I can still hear you saying
You would never break the chain
"YEAH, YOU!" Sören didn't know why he felt so confrontational - he guessed all that nervous energy he was carrying had to go somewhere, and the tailgater was a convenient dump for it. Since the tailgater had a rainbow flag decal on his bumper, Sören went there. "SINCE YOU LIKE RIDING MY ASS SO MUCH, WHY DON'T YOU PUT A RING ON IT AND MARRY IT?"
And then the man was fully turned around, and Sören's lips parted, letting out a gasp when he saw the face of the man he'd seen in his dream set in the Harry Potter world. The man wasn't wearing glasses, but it was otherwise unmistakably him, right down to the green eyes.
Sören heard himself make a high-pitched "meep" like Beaker of The Muppets, ducking back into the car, face on fire, stomach churning. Dooku gave Sören a concerned look and Sören continued to squeak, "Meep meep meep..."
"Sören, are you all right?"
The man with the Audi was walking towards their car, looking like he was about to give Sören a piece of his mind. Sören's heart hammered in his ears. On the one hand this was the man he'd dreamed about, and something told him to stick around, on the other hand he felt humiliated and more than that, he had the resurgence of that feeling that he was going crazy and all of this, everything, was a trick of his mind, hallucinations.
Then a raven swooped down onto the hood of Dooku's Jaguar, croaking, and a second one swooped onto the trunk of the Audi. "What the..." The man ran over to his car and began yelling at the bird in a powerful baritone with a decidedly British accent. "Shoo! Get lost! I don't bloody have time for this!"
Sören's jaw dropped. It's HIM. A chill went through him, hair standing on end, arms breaking out in gooseflesh under his hoodie.
Mark elbowed Sören and Sören realized he was gawping and closed his mouth. Anthony smiled at him and Sören tried to smile back, giving a nervous laugh.
Oh my god. It's him. It's that guy. IT'S THAT FUCKING GUY.
He remembered the conversation he'd had with Mark after he'd found the first Silmaril.
"I dreamt of a man I'd never seen before... who exists, I ran into him at a gas station. I realized I'm not crazy."
Mark's eyes widened. "You know what this means. You wouldn't just dream of them for no reason. They're... probably like you."
"You mean... Elves reborn as mortal?" And then Sören's voice dropped to a hush, excited and terrified all at once. "Family?"
Mark nodded solemnly.
"Ada... the man you dreamed of..." Mark raised an eyebrow. "Were you lovers in the dream?"
Sören nodded.
"That's probably one of your brothers, then." Mark let out a shuddery sigh, tears in his eyes. "For so long, all I wanted was to see my family again. And now, at least three of you are here..."
And of course, Fingolfin and Finarfin had found their way to each other. Sören's heart was hammering, the pit of his stomach rising, feeling ready to scream.
"So Anthony, tell us about yourself," Mark said. "You're from London?"
Anthony nodded. "I came here two years ago in 2016. I practice civil rights law in Portland. Before that I was a criminal defense barrister."
Sören felt like he was going to jump out of his skin, the gears in his mind turning again. Once again, reality peeled back another layer and Sören saw all the pieces falling into place, coincidences that weren't. "Did you... have a client named Karen Swanson?"
Anthony gave Sören a filthy look. "Don't tell me that case has followed me here and made it into the news -"
"No, no, she was my teaching assistant last year. She's gone back to the UK, but she mentioned your name and what happened and it, ah, rang a bell." Sören felt like the bell had rung so hard the tower was crumbling.
"That's quite a coincidence. I'd no idea she was also in the area. Too bad, we could have got coffee or something." Anthony frowned a little. "Anyway, that saves me the trouble of having to explain why I moved here and hoping you're not crazy football hooligans."
"No, just crazy." Sören gave a too-hearty laugh. He wanted to scream. It begged the question now if Karen was anybody from their past. He wondered if Anthony knew anything. If Anthony had dreamt.
Dooku came back in with lemonade for Sören and Mark. "Freshly squeezed," he said, a touch of pride in his voice.
Like my fucking brain. Sören took his glass with a mumbled "takk," and when Dooku sat down beside Anthony, putting an arm around him again, Sören raised his glass. "Skál," he toasted.
He felt like he needed something much stronger than lemonade to get through the rest of today.