Chapter Text
“Can we please get a bag of chips?”
Maedhros looks up from his laptop to the eight-year-old red heads who peer at him from their seats at the dining room table, their eyes wide, mouths pouting. “No,” he says firmly, and he looks back to the blank document open in front of him. It doesn’t need to be an A paper, he reminds himself; you just need to pass.
“Oh, come on, Nelyo,” Amras groans. Amrod looks dejectedly at his math workbook. Maedhros feels a little bad, but he knows if he lets them eat now, they won’t have snacks for tomorrow’s lunch, because Nerdanel still hasn’t shown up, and Maedhros doesn’t have time to drive to the grocery store tonight. He glances at the clock on his computer screen. 5:38.
“No,” Maedhros reasserts. “The water will be done boiling soon, and then we can have a real dinner.”
The rebuttals come immediately: “Pasta’s not real dinner.” “We had pasta yesterday.”
Maedhros resists the urge to raise his voice at them. His first ever college paper is due at 11:59PM, and it’s now 5:39, and his father isn’t coming home til Eru knows when, and his mother left the house on Sunday after an epic screaming match between her and Father, and she slammed the door behind her, and it’s now Wednesday, and she hasn’t even returned his calls, and they’re running out of groceries, and the kids are hungry, and Maedhros just wants to punch a wall and scream.
The Ambarussa are looking at him with matching pouts. Maedhros takes a deep breath and reminds himself that they’re eight, and they don’t know when their mom is coming home.
“How about, if you all finish your homework before dinner is ready, I let you have a brownie from the café?” he offers as a compromise. He’ll have to remember to ask Father for the credit card tonight.
Their eyes widen. Maedhros rarely allows them sweets. “Okay!”
The room is silent once more, and Maedhros feels his shoulders slump in relief even though the clock now reads 5:41. He starts typing out the first few lines of his introduction, reminding himself that he is a good writer, and he can do this in the few hours he has left. He gives the Ambarussa a small smile, as they work diligently on their math homework, thankful for small mercies. He’s almost finished with the introduction – and it only took him ten minutes, too – when Caranthir walks into the dining room.
Out of habit, Maedhros immediately asks, “Did you remember to take your medication?”
Caranthir glares at him, his dark, thick eyebrows all the more pronounced. “Fuck off. I’m not ten anymore.”
“Caranthir, you know he only asks because he cares,” Maglor replies, walking into the kitchen. He grabs a bag of potato chips, and Maedhros braces himself.
“No fair!”
“How come he gets chips and we don’t?”
To his credit, Maglor immediately looks apologetic.
“I have to leave soon,” Maglor tries, but the Ambarussa are not satisfied. “Sorry, Nelyo, I’ll wash up when I get back. I know you have a paper you have to finish.” Maglor stresses the last part of the sentence, which Maedhros appreciates but knows is futile.
“Nelyo, come on, Kano got chips,” Amrod persists.
“Yeah, but he has to go to his band practice.”
“I thought your band practice wasn’t until past six,” Celegorm butts in, as he sits himself on the counter, legs swinging, and Maedhros resists the urge to tell him to get off.
“Yeah, but I’m going to have to take the bus, because…” Maglor trails off. All of the brothers immediately get quiet. No one wants to say why. Their mother hasn’t been home in days. Their father keeps coming home late. Caranthir punches the wall, making all of them jump, but he storms off before anyone can say anything.
Celegorm sighs. “Well, I’m going to go play some football with Aredhel.”
“You haven’t eaten yet,” Maedhros protests.
Celegorm grins. “Aredhel brought food to detention, and Mr. Orome is pretty chill about letting us eat. He knows we’ll never be reformed.”
The Ambarussa look at Celegorm in awe. Maedhros wants to face palm or laugh, he isn’t sure which would be most appropriate, so he settles for shaking his head at Celegorm in resignation before replying, “Okay, don’t come home too late. It’s your turn to pack the lunches tonight.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Celegorm makes a shooing motion and jumps off the counter and takes the back door out, but Maedhros knows Celegorm will be home on time and will make the lunches. In his earlier teenage years, Celegorm had become outright defiant toward every member of the family, even Feanor, but more recently, he seemed to understand the issues at play, seemed to feel sympathy for Maedhros and more often than not, though he never volunteered for tasks, he would do as Maedhros asked of him. Maedhros wasn’t sure what caused the change of heart, but he was grateful for it as the arguments between his mother and father spiraled more and more out of control, and Maedhros was more often than not forced to look after the little ones.
Maedhros looked at the clock. 5:46. The water must almost be boiling by now. The Ambarussa have gotten back to work. Maedhros starts his second paragraph.
By the time the water’s boiled, Maedhros has finished the second paragraph of his paper, and he owes the Ambarussa brownies. He should have known that they were close to being finished and were just being annoying for the sake of getting something out of it. Still, he’s glad their homework is at least completed, and quite frankly needs them to be distracted, so he gives them permission to go to the living room and play their video games.
He glances at the clock, after he’s dumped the noodles into the boiling water. 5:53. Technically, he has six hours left, but he’s tired, and he really wants to be done by eight at the latest so that he can put the Ambarussa to bed and then go to sleep himself. He walks over to the fridge opens it. It’s almost empty. He needs to go buy groceries. He needs his dad’s credit card first. He scowls, looking back at the clock. 5:54.
He closes the fridge, resigned. Maedhros is not a great cook but most nights that he is tasked with cooking he tries to make an effort by adding in some vegetables or meat or anything to make the meal a little heartier, but today, there’s just not enough time.
A ping from his cell phone distracts him, and he fishes out the device from his pocket. A wide smile crosses his face. Fingon: “Hey! I know you have a paper due tonight so I won’t bother you, but I did wanna say good luck! You got this!”
He stares at his phone screen, grinning, and starts typing a reply he immediately erases. The desperation nags at him again. He wants to talk to Fingon, but there’s just no time. He needs to finish this paper. He needs to get dinner done.
“Thanks,” he types, instead, and contemplates including a heart emoji, but is that too much? Surely Fingon won’t think it weird. He decides against it, sends his thanks, and just as he is about to put his phone back into his pocket, wonders if there’s something behind the way Fingon phrased his message “so I won’t bother you.” He unlocks his phone again. “You’re never a bother,” he sends.
His phone pings a second later. A heart emoji.
“Is dinner ready yet?”
Maedhros jumps, whipping his head to the source of the noise. Curufin leans against the kitchen doorframe. Maedhros shakes his head, sliding his phone back into his pocket. Curufin walks over and looks into the pot. He crinkles his nose. “Pasta again?”
Having reached the limits of his patience, Maedhros snaps, “Well, if you’d like something different you can cook for yourself.” Curufin raises an eyebrow, and Maedhros feels guilt spreading. He tries to avoid raising his voice as much as possible – there is enough shouting in the household – but sometimes he loses his patience. “Sorry, Curufin.”
Curufin shrugs, turns, and walks out of the kitchen. Maedhros sighs. Curufin’s shrug is not at all a jab at him, Maedhros knows that, but it doesn’t change the fact that Maedhros wishes it hadn’t been Curufin that walked in. He wishes Maglor were home. He wishes Fingon were with him.
He wishes their mother would come back.
He wishes their father would stop leaving him to parent.
He crosses his arms and holds himself tightly, then forces himself to let go, take a deep breath, and go back to the essay. He’s got at least six paragraphs more to go.
At 8:03, after the little ones are fed, Maglor has washed the dishes as promised and Celegorm has returned from football, Maedhros is now working on the conclusion of his draft. He hopes he’ll have enough energy to go back and edit, but otherwise, his paper is a solid B-. Not ideal for his first college writing assignment but enough that he can scrape an A if he does better on the rest of the assignments. His head aches.
He hears the front door opening but doesn’t move. He just wants to finish.
His father talks to the Ambarussa for a couple minutes, but then the sounds of the video game come back on, and Maedhros knows his father is headed for him. His stomach growls, and Maedhros realizes he forgot to eat.
His father appears in the doorway, and Maedhros hopes his stomach will stay silent.
“Hi,” he says, respectfully closing his laptop.
“Hello, Nelyo. School work?” Feanor asks.
“Yes.”
Feanor nods. “The little ones finished their school work?”
“Yes.”
“Did they eat?”
“Yes. I made them dinner.”
Feanor looks around. “The kitchen is spotless.”
Maedhros smiles a little. “Makalaure cleaned up after we ate.”
Feanor nods. He comes a little closer to Maedhros and places his hand on Maedhros’ shoulder. Maedhros has long been taller than his father, but Feanor has a way of making Maedhros feel little again. “I’m glad I can always count on you to keep everything going while I’m away.” Maedhros resists the urge to lean into his father’s touch, knowing his father thinks him too old for such physical comforts, but his heart sings at the praise, at the confidence his father has in him. Feanor drops the hand. “Don’t be afraid to stay up late,” Feanor says, gesturing at the computer, “better to have one night of little sleep than have a poor grade for the rest of the term.”
“Yes, Atya,” Maedhros replies solemnly. His father leaves the kitchen, and Maedhros looks at his half-finished conclusion. His stomach growls again. Maedhros ignores it. With new resolve, he scrolls to the top of his essay and starts rereading.
His father expects nothing but excellence from him, and Maedhros will deliver.