Anthony spent Christmas Day with his parents, and slept over, but returned for Boxing Day. Nicholas had plenty of leftovers from Christmas dinner - he had made duck, sausage stuffing, haricots verts with hazelnuts, and potatoes au gratin. Elaine had sent Anthony home with containers of leftover goose, roast beef, trifle and plum pudding, which Anthony brought with him. Elaine also had a Christmas gift for Sören and Nicholas - a bottle of Gammel Opland akvavit from Norway. Nicholas insisted on opening the akvavit right away, and he and Sören each had a shot. Anthony abstained since he was on an antidepressant and he knew from past experience even one shot of that was too strong for him.
After the meal, Sören wanted to watch Frozen, and though Nicholas rolled his eyes and tsked, he still indulged Sören. Nicholas ended up having a second shot of akvavit to get through the movie, and Sören followed suit. Anthony hoped they wouldn't have more than that, as he didn't want to proposition them for a threesome if they were too drunk to consent.
"You know what?" Sören asked when the movie was over. "I'm in the mood to build a snowman." He started tugging on Nicholas's sleeve, singing, "Do you want to build a snowman?"
"Mon Dieu." Nicholas chuckled.
They went up to the rooftop garden, where there was more snow to work with than on the sidewalk. Anthony had to sit in one of the chairs to help build the snowman, and the wrought iron was cold, making him glad he had a greatcoat to cover his rear end. Sören in usual form made a crude phallus of snow, and when it fell off the bottom, Sören put it on the snowman's head instead. "There, he's, ah, a unicorn," Sören said.
"You are completely ridiculous," Anthony said, tweaking Sören's nose. And that is why I love you.
"Indeed." Nicholas kissed Sören's cheek.
After the snowman they went inside for hot chocolate, and Nicholas offered to put on another movie. "One that Sören isn't picking out this time," Nicholas said, giving Sören a mock stern look.
Sören blew a raspberry. "You act like I make bad decisions."
Nicholas raised an eyebrow. "In some areas," he said softly.
Sören got very quiet, and stayed that way through the first half of the winter-themed movie he, Nicholas, and Anthony agreed upon, March of the Penguins. Sören didn't even squee at the penguins or make off-color commentary, which was unlike him, and Anthony got the sense Nicholas had hit a nerve with his "in some areas" comment.
Anthony felt like it was somehow up to him to break the ice - and it did feel very much like ice as time wore on. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and asked Sören, "So... did you get everything you want for Christmas?" He knew Sören didn't usually have a list of specific things he wanted, being a bit weird about people gifting him, but if there was something Sören secretly was hoping for, he wanted to be able to get it for him.
"More or less," Sören said.
Anthony turned to Nicholas. "What about you?"
"Oh... for the most part, yes." Nicholas's nostrils flared, and he gave Sören a disapproving look. "What really would have made me happy is if Sören would turn that bloody stone into a museum -"
"OK, that's it." Sören slammed his cocoa mug down on the coffee table and got up. "You know, I asked you to fucking drop it."
Nicholas put his own mug down more gingerly and leaned back in his chair, steepling his hands. "You did. But as you know, I am a Classicist. My profession is dependent upon the preservation of rare and precious artifacts, the study of which informs me that it is necessary to curate modern-day objects for future generations. I can't, in good conscience, sit here and allow you to own something like that stone, remarkable as it is, and not have it at least taken in temporarily by a professional to see if there are properties that should be shared with the world. And it is not simply that I can't, but I shan't. By not turning that stone over to a museum or the scientific research branch of a university, and asking me to just go along with it, you are asking me to violate principles I have held almost my entire life."
Sören glared. "Yes, your high-and-mighty ideals. You're making it sound like I'm doing something on par with killing children and harvesting their organs, for fuck's sake. And you know what? I'm a doctor. My profession depends on science. There are elements on the periodic table that every day, save people's lives. Oxygen. The helium used for an MRI machine. I could go on and on, but I won't. All I'll say is this: the stone is unique, but it probably isn't a new element, or anything that would be worth giving it up to be studied and never see it again. Meanwhile, it does have value - to me. I found it during a trip of personal significance. It has sentimental value. Does that not count for anything?"
Anthony once again wondered if, like him, Sören had dreamt of the stone before he found it - considering they had shared dreams that felt like memories of a time before, another place, another world... other bodies, elf-like. Sören hadn't spoken of it, and Anthony was hesitant to discuss that he'd dreamt of the stone himself before its discovery, knowing how mad it sounded, as well as what it implied, that their dreams might well be something real. He was half-expecting Sören to bring up the dreams if he'd had them, but then he realized Sören was unlikely to talk about that here and now when things with Nicholas were already so fraught, never mind admitting to something that would make him sound insane.
"Let me answer your question with a question." Nicholas pointed, then steepled his hands again. "You brought that stone into my home and kept it here all these months, even after I told you I was uncomfortable with it. You having that in my home, with me not knowing what it is - if it is potentially dangerous, radioactive or carcinogenic in some way - affects me. Even something like you taking it out to look at it, and it being seen through the window by the wrong person, making us a target for robbery... that affects me. You speak of your feelings with the sentimental value of the stone. Do my feelings not count? Does my sense of comfort and safety not count? Do I not get a say about what is and is not allowed in my home?"
Anthony's heart sank in his chest - tonight was absolutely the wrong time to try to confess his feelings to Nicholas. He wondered if Sören and Nicholas would even have a relationship after tonight. Anthony felt very awkward about staying for the rest of the argument, like being at the site of a trainwreck as it was still happening.
Then Sören marched upstairs and Anthony heard a bedroom door slam. Nicholas remained seated, stony-faced. Anthony heard Sören swearing in Icelandic, the sound of drawers and wardrobes opening and closing, Sören's feet stomping around. Anthony sat on the arm of the couch, leaning on his cane, having a bad feeling about what he was hearing.
Sören came downstairs about ten minutes later, wheeling a suitcase. Nicholas's expression stopped being neutral - he looked at Sören with what appeared to be a mixture of shock and concern.
Anthony, of course, knew what that suitcase meant. Sören had left him in October 2013 - that fateful day was forever burned into his memory. It broke his heart to see Sören walking out on Nicholas like this, they had been so good together, good to each other, good for each other. It wasn't simply that Anthony had feelings for Nicholas and Sören both, but seeing the way Nicholas loved Sören and took care of him, he thought Sören needed that, and watching them get to this point was so painful it made Anthony tear up. It didn't help that he felt put in the middle, not just because he loved both of them, but he thought they both had valid arguments. That was the curse of being a barrister; he could see both sides of the issue. And while that was usually an asset in his legal career, as understanding the opposing side helped him to argue his own side more effectively, right now in this situation he hated it, as it made him feel like he was being torn apart.
Nicholas blinked. "Sören, I -"
"Shut up." Sören shook his head, giving Nicholas a look of utter contempt. The last time Anthony had seen Sören looking at anyone like that was when Anthony's ex-friend Steve had bullied him in public, taking his cane away. That was a very bad sign. "You want to talk about your home, like I don't live here. I guess you think this isn't my place too and I'm just some sort of chattel, a warm body to fuck -"
"Sören, no -"
"I. Said. Shut. Up." Sören's face was murderous now. Anthony wondered if Sören was about to go off in Icelandic. Sören's accent was definitely heavier now as he spoke. "Since this isn't my home too, I'll be taking my leave now." Sören wheeled his suitcase over to the coat rack and started pulling on his trenchcoat.
Tobias made a meow of distress. Sören cringed - Anthony knew that was going to be difficult, leaving the cat behind.
Anthony didn't like the idea of Sören checking himself into a hotel during the holidays, all alone, especially not when he was like this. Even though he didn't want Nicholas to think he was siding against him, he still hobbled over to Sören. "You, ah... want to spend the night in my bedroom?" Then he gave Nicholas a nervous look - after all the talk of "my home", he realized he'd just potentially made Nicholas feel like a stranger in his own home.
But Nicholas nodded. "Take some time to cool down." Nicholas waved his hand dismissively and turned his back. "Have a good rest of the evening, Anthony, if you can."
Anthony frowned, and nodded before he led Sören upstairs.
Any other night, Anthony would be glad to have Sören sleep over. Most weeks he slept over at least two or three times a week. Anthony tried to be content with that, but he missed Sören terribly throughout the week. He relished more time with Sören, as he could get it.
But not like this. He felt like he was collecting the spoils of war that had been a pyrrhic victory. He hoped that maybe Sören and Nicholas would be able to patch things up given a day or two, but the way Sören fell apart as soon as they got upstairs to his bedroom made Anthony realize Sören was deeply, deeply hurt, a lot moreso than he had let on in the argument with Nicholas.
"Damn him," Sören choked out. "Hann er að vera svona rassgat!"
And there was the Icelandic that Anthony had been anticipating. Anthony only spoke a little of it, but he figured out what Sören was saying about Nicholas. He didn't want to agree, since he loved Nicholas and felt somewhat disloyal, but he didn't want to disagree, as that was disloyal to Sören. Once again he felt torn. And aching that there wasn't something more he could do. I argue cases for a living, I can't get the two people I care about the most in this world to sit down like adults and bloody fix things.
All he could do right now was hold Sören. Hold him and let him cry. He got out his weighted blanket, and put it on the bed. They quickly changed and washed up for the night, and once they were in bed Anthony rocked Sören underneath the weighted blanket, pet him, made soothing noises, trying to console the inconsolable. He had seen Sören cry many times over the years, but never so brokenly. It made Anthony cry a little too.
"Ég hata hann svo mikið. Þetta þrjóska rassgat, hann heldur að ég búi ekki fokking þarna og tilfinningar mínar skipta ekki máli. Ég hata það að ég elska hann ennþá. Ég var hálfviti að hugsa um að ég myndi einhvern tíma finna hamingju aftur."
"Sweetheart." Anthony kissed Sören's tears, arms tightening around him. "Try to get some rest. Maybe things won't look so bad tomorrow -"
"They don't look bad. They are bad." Sören snuffled. "Fucking prick, wants to take away what's rightfully mine -"
"Hush." Anthony started to massage Sören's scalp. He felt sudden weight on the bed, heard a "Prrp?" and a deep, rumbly purr. Seumas - a grey tabby he'd adopted earlier this year - came over to sniff Sören, and promptly flomped over for pettings. "See, Seumas thinks you should try to rest, too."
Sören gave the cat some love, but continued crying. "I can't rest. Don't you understand? My entire life fell apart tonight. He disrespected me. How can I go back to him?"
Anthony sighed. He pulled Sören's head against his shoulder, kissed the top of Sören's head, and rubbed his back. "Sometimes people who love each other, hurt each other. You and I worked things out, eventually. Took us close to two years, but."
"Jæja, and I'm not going through that a second time. I can already see the cracks in the foundation with me and him... I don't want history to repeat itself."
That was the opposite of what Anthony had been intending when he brought up their past history - he hated that Sören was being so final about Nicholas - but he didn't want to argue. He felt exhausted, and it wasn't terribly late. Just terribly sad.
Sören broke down again, weeping. Seumas made a noise of distress and began aggressively headbutting and kneading Sören. A few minutes later Miss Balls crept in and also got on the bed, watching with her big, concerned owl eyes, trying to purr everyone better. But Sören's pain was the kind that not even cats could help. He cried and cried all night long, and Anthony held him, watched over him. He felt helpless, but he could at least be Sören's living fortress in the storm.
And then, the gears in his mind began to turn.
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