Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

          A heavy sigh echoed through the room. It’s already been fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes of absolute silence from the young man seated on the couch in the middle of the room. The place tried to appear homey and cozy with all the warm colours situated on the walls, on the furniture, even on the carpet. A mix of soft reds and deep browns with the occasional hint of orange. Just the colour scheme made the young man feel utterly disgusted.
          In front of him, hidden behind a mahogany desk, was a much older man. His whole look, a sport coat, slacks, neatly trimmed grey beard and a pair of incredibly stupid glasses, told the young man all he needed to know.
          The old man took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes in frustration.
„You are not hurting me by staying silent, Melkor. The only one you are hurting is you.“
          The young man hasn’t even acknowledged the other man’s existence. His eyes were fixated on the nearby painting hanging off the wall.
Probably the only pretty thing around here… was the thing that crossed his mind. It was a painting of a shore during a sunset. Shades of purple were used on it, depicting a rather gloomy and melancholic atmosphere. The clouds on the top seemed never ending and the same could be said about the ocean. A cliff was there too right beside the beachy shore, tall and menacing, its exposed side sharp and dangerous.
          He imagined himself on the top of the cliff, just staring in the distance, breathing the cold air and letting it mess up his hair. It wasn’t just the breathtaking scenery that pulled him in, but rather the absence of anyone else.
          The complete loneliness…
          And suddenly he was falling.
          Falling and hitting every single sharp rock, every single twig, everything that stood in his way.
          Landing with a thud that was muffled by the merciless water ,his body remained still. Eyes wide open and empty, his right wrist bent in an unnatural angle, his body now fully belonged to the ocean.
Is that the only purpose I have in life? To give myself, my very flesh, to feed others? To spread throughout the soil?
          He found the thought strangely peaceful. If nothing really mattered, if his end is inevitable anyway, then there was nothing worthy of making him anxious and hurt anymore. Does unrequited love mean anything when your body gets digested by a pack of wolves?
          The old man stared at him the whole time. Noticing that Melkor’s gaze was fixated on the painting gave him another idea on how to start the conversation.
„It is a nice piece of art,“ he said simply, trying to make it sound like a normal friendly conversation.
„Your father mentioned you are into all sorts of art.“
          Your father…
A hint of anger flashed through his eyes. He had no idea what exactly his father said to the shrink beforehand and that fact made him go crazy. He rarely heard an encouraging word from his father, so he doubted the words being said without him present were any better. His eyebrows furrowed, his whole face was caught in a very bitter, convulsive expression. There goes his cold facade…
Nothing that could be said now would make him talk anymore. This assessment, this psychiatric evaluation, was nothing but a waste of time. The more they pressured him, the more they tried, the more he sabotaged it. He hated the idea of being considered faulty, of being weird, of being broken. How dare they even accuse him of something like that? And the IQ tests? Why? To only prove further that he’s insufficient? That he’s not enough? That his brother is his better version?!
          His brother…
          His brother was waiting in the car outside the psychiatrist’s office. Bags with groceries were sitting on the backseat.

          Manwë felt terribly anxious. His brother was acting more and more like a time bomb. Was it his fault? Was he treating him unfairly? He always wanted what was best for his brother. So why is every word he ever says, every action he ever does, ending up twisted around? Taken like an attack? He was accused of being slightly insensitive in the past…
          Manwë was a good person. Kind and selfless. He had an unfortunate weakness though that made it particularly hard to talk to Melkor and that was the inability to read the room. His own words were often brutally honest. He never wanted to hurt anyone, he never wanted to humiliate anyone, there was no intention behind this trait, it was just the way he was. Unfortunately, with Melkor people had to sometimes walk on eggshells.
          Manwë leaned on the steering wheel with his forehead.
          „I hope the dumbass is alright…“

          Melkor stood up and left the second the session was over. Not even a goodbye was said, he just fled.
The moment he spotted his brother’s car he adjusted his jacket and jumped inside. He was both relieved to be out the door but also worried about what might follow.
„So… how did it go?“
Manwë’s tone was encouraging and positive, he tried his best to sound friendly.
Melkor looked at him from the side and then sighed.
„I don’t want to talk about it…“
His voice was surprisingly apologetic. He didn’t want to fight. He just wanted peace for the rest of the day.
Manwë knew he shouldn’t pressure him, but he couldn’t just let it go.
„Dad will want to know anyway. You know you don’t have to feel ashamed, right? It’s a perfectly normal thing to-“
„I said I don’t want to talk about it!“ he barked back, immediately making Manwë go silent.
Melkor reached for the radio and turned it on. The station that was on was playing classical music. Both his father and his brother adored it. Chopin, Bach, Smetana, Verdi, Prokofiev and many other already dead corpses of men who once meant something, Melkor immediately changed the station. It wasn’t like he disliked it, far from it. He would love to be able to enjoy Dance of the Knights or The Moldau without feeling like a piece of crap. But how could he?
An amazingly successful father with a son who’s his spitting image, bonding over their love for classy and beautiful things. There was no room for him in this idyllic picture.

          An unpleasant thought crossed his mind.
I wonder if mother was as broken as I am…

Chapter Text

„Fuuuuck, the math assignment…“
Melkor rubbed his eyes and grunted. All he got back was a disapproving look from Manwë.
„Don’t tell me you didn’t do it…“
„You know I had a lot on my plate recently!“ Melkor cried out softly in a whiny voice, trying to make a good base ground for the pleading that was inevitably coming right after.
„C’mon, lemme take a peek, just a little sneak peak, don’t be like this, c’mon-“
Manwë sighed and started rummaging through his things, trying to find the paper. His things were a bit too orderly for him not to be able to find it.
„It’s not helping you in the long run, though,…“ he objected as he handed Melkor the finished assignment. Melkor completely ignored his words and just grinned like a villain whose evil plans went accordingly.
„Thanks, man…“
As he quickly copied the answers in a scribbly manner, Manwë’s eyes were locked on him. His gaze would be seemingly neutral if it wasn’t for the soft sigh and the little scrunch of a nose.
„Are all baby brothers this annoying?“ he said affectionately.
Melkor turned his head to give him the ‚who the fuck are you talking to‘ look before they both chuckled in the exact same fashion. It was moments like these when they truly seemed like siblings.
The teacher rushed into the class, immediately starting the lecture.
Melkor tried his best to focus on the blackboard. He knew his grades were embarrassingly bad and he knew he had to pass if he wanted to leave this nightmare behind.
But he just couldn’t.
It was a never ending cycle of him trying to focus on focusing instead of actually paying attention to the topic at hand. No matter what he tried he ended up daydreaming anyway. And the lack of sleep was catching up on him too…
Usually he would fall into a spiral at this point.
He would feel stupid, like he’s not enough. He would feel bitter and he would take it out on everyone. His brother, his father, his classmates, his teachers.
But not today.
Today will be a good day.
He will make sure of it.

Subject after subject. At some he is conveniently ignored. During others he’s being scolded for the lack of his work ethic. But it’s never anything that couldn’t be fixed with his typical shy half-smile combined with the innocent look in his eyes. At least that’s what has been working for him until now.
Weight has been lifted off his shoulders as the last period ended. The playfulness was now replaced with exhaustion. No matter how social he tried to be, he always ran into hiding the minute he could be finally alone.
He rushed out of the classroom, his fingers itching for a cigarette, when his gaze fell upon her.
Oxfords, dress pants, a cozy sweater.
Her straight raven-black hair falling down her back.
She was one of the prettiest girls he knew. But he never actually cared for any of that.
Their eyes met and he could drown in them.
The coldness she carried within her.
He knew she would burn him, make his flesh turn into ashes if he’d ever get too close.
But from the distance? He could witness the intense heat inside of her, he could see the light emitting out of her, but all he felt was a chill breeze instead.
She was his distant star.
Untouchable, unreachable, everlasting.

Oh, those stars,
how countlessly they congregate
over the tumultuous snow
which flows in shapes as tall as trees
when wintry winds do blow…

He tried to put on the most charming smile he could muster.
Confidence, show confidence, never let her know you’re frightened to death.
„Hi, Varda.“
He stood right next to her, leaning on the wall. She was almost as tall as him, so he wasn’t looking down on her. Despite not caring that much about her appearance, the almost non-existent height
difference between them was one of the things he really appreciated about her. Them being eye to eye, her being so strong and tall, it was like she was his true equal. Like it was him and her against
the whole world… Oh, how much he dreamt of that.
„Your shoes are so pretty... You know, my dad actually wears the same ones. You could form a little nerdy club together,“ he grinned.
Hundreds of emotions appeared in her eyes for a split second. But the most prominent were...
„Piss off, jerk.“
...disgust and annoyance.
She stormed away from him, leaving him alone in the hall.

<<------------------------------------------------*%*---------------------------------------------->>

The night was peaceful.
Cold air was brushing over his skin as he was laying on his back, looking at the ceiling. He liked how quiet and dark nights tend to be. A beautiful contrast to the overstimulating mess that’s going on during the day. The lights, the noises, the rush, the pressure. Others not only talking to him but also requiring his attention back. Requiring a response.
A normal thing for others. A nightmare for him.
He knew he shouldn’t be feeling like this. He knew it wasn’t alright for him to be so exhausted and drained from things others not only survived in peace but also thoroughly enjoyed. Why was it so hard for him to fit in? To contribute the way others do? Why was he always running away? Whether it was into his own head or physically running away, it always meant the same thing.
He was a coward.
It wasn’t that he was just scared, just afraid.
He was terrified.
Of what though? Of not being able to put up a face anymore? Of people finally seeing him for what he really is? A fraud? A faulty piece? Someone so useless, someone so expendable, someone so weak and pathetically disgustingly fragile? Someone who would hang themselves in their bedroom while leaving behind two crying kids?
His consciousness almost scraped the surface of-
He closed his eyes shut with all the strength he had, pushing it all out of his brain.
„Happy thoughts, happy thoughts…“

But no matter how much he tried, one thought came back, creeping like a cockroach that just wouldn’t die.

All the pain she went through… and he never even speaks of her. It’s like she never existed at all.

Chapter Text

„And I was like bro, that seems wrong. But he was like no, it’s legit, just open the doors every two seconds and nothing’s gonna happen. So I was like okay? And I did as he said, right? But then the egg just burst? And the microwave caught on fire too? And he yelled at ME?!“
Langon’s whiny voice was ringing in Melkor’s ears. He was mentally buffering, the blank look in his eyes being the proof. No sane person would follow Gothmog’s cooking instructions, Langon did it to himself.
„And do you know what’s the worst about all of this?! When I pulled the egg out, it exploded AGAIN! And it hit my neck? Here, see?“
Langon stretched out his neck, exposing a little purple bruise under all that light coloured hair.
„And Mairon saw it and he was like ‘oh, a hickey.‘ And I was like ‘hell yeah, man.‘ But then he was like ‘let me guess, grindr?‘ HE'S GOING AROUND SAYING I’M DOING IT WITH GUYS?“
Melkor rubbed his forehead, his elbows leaning on the table.
„I mean, the Gaga merch is not really helping you in this case…“
Langon gasped, his hand resting on his chest, or better said on his Born This Way shirt.
„What do you even know about music?! All you listen to is that god awful screeching. A bunch of virgins burning up churches, puking in their mics and you will say something to me about music?!“
Melkor sighed. This was never ending.
„I didn’t mean it as an insult, but you know how it goes… If you don’t want Mairon to tease you, don’t give him ammo, it’s that easy… That prick is coming for everyone, either get witty and pay him back or just get out of the kitchen if you can’t take the heat.“
A few seconds of silence followed before he spoke again.
„Also, it’s not just people puking in their mics. Gothmog listens to harder music too, you never bitch about his shit!“
„Yeah, but his shit is like Slipknot, not like nazis from Scandinavia or Ukraine or something…“
„I don’t like the nazis…“ he said quietly, his eyes fixed on the table as he played with leftover breadcrumbs.
„Plus I like lots of music, not just black metal…“
Then a sly smirk appeared on Melkor’s lips.
„I think you’re just losing it because Marina is better than Gaga.“
Langon went wide eyed, gasping and clutching at his notional pearls when he was suddenly pushed to the side, Gothmog sitting down on a chair with a thud.
„Tonight, the nightclub downtown, are you guys going?“
Melkor raised his eyebrows, The first interesting thing mentioned so far.
„What’s the occasion?“
Langon joined in on the conversation too.
„I would come but I refuse to get bullied again for things that are out of my control!“
Gothmog’s gaze stayed fixated on Melkor.
„Some DJ girl is coming in and she’s apparently this big thing. Anyways, the point is, all the girls are coming. Like ALL the girls.“
His breath hitched.
„Do you think Varda’s going?“
Gothmog’s smile faded.
„I meant the normal ones. Not her prudish ass.“
Melkor grunted silently, obviously annoyed.
„Don’t speak of her like that, that’s really low…“
„I’m just saying she’s no fun,“ Gothmog defended himself.
„And she obviously doesn’t like you, so maybe you should listen to someone wise for once. So what do you think, huh? Are we having fun tonight?“
Gothmog’s eyes were gleaming with anticipation and excitement. All Melkor could do was sigh and slowly nod.
“Fine… Let’s meet there.”


„Go home, kid. You need to be of age.“
Melkor froze on the spot, looking at the bouncer with slightly parted lips.
He was already wasted. Overpriced alcohol that was served in clubs and bars made his wallet too empty for his liking. A cheap rum knock off that tastes like antifreeze does the job as well for much less money.
„What are you talking about, man? Do I look like a fucking kid? Just let me in.“
He tried to push his way in but to no avail, the bouncer pushed back, making Melkor stumble and almost fall on his ass.
„I’m not saying it again. Leave!“
He couldn’t do anything else. He limped away while checking the bouncer over his shoulder every few seconds.
„So fucking unfair,“ he grunted, his words slurred.
„Everyone is already inside and I’m the only one who doesn’t get in?!“
He was looking at the club from afar, the music and the general noise of the place echoing through the empty streets as he roamed them, his soul filled with bitterness, jealousy and loneliness.
“Fucking cunts…”
A sudden surge of anger rose up in his heart and he took it out on a nearby rock, kicking it with all his might.
P A I N
With a heavy gasp he fell on the ground, clutching his foot, whining on the ground.
“What the fuck?!”
He turned his gaze towards the rock he kicked.
It wasn’t a rock.
It was a small concrete slab.
His eyes widened in disbelief.
“What-? Why is it even- What the hell?!”
He gave up.
Laying in a puddle on the sidewalk seemed like the most peaceful course of action for now. He let the thoughts flow throughout his head. Should he go home? Should he try to sneak in? Should he beat the bald guy who’s standing both literally and figuratively between him and the untamed sea of cute girls inside?
What would mom want? Oh yeah, probably a rope.

He pushed himself off the ground, wobbly getting up on his legs again. He can’t just give up every time there’s a little obstacle in the way.
Slowly approaching the nightclub again he was thinking of a way to get inside. He circled around the building like a hunter following a prey. The club was on a basement level. There was just one entrance and that was out of limits. The other side had a little backyard area protected with a two meters tall fence. His eyes suddenly lit up.
Restroom windows.
He quickly checked himself, wondering if he could squeeze through it if someone opened it wide enough.
I won’t find out if I don’t try…
His fingers gripped the fence wires and he started pulling himself up. Despite his drunken state he managed to find incredible strength within himself.
His heart was beating, the risk of being caught was both terrifying and exciting. Such a small thing but it made him feel alive once again.
He jumped over the fence, almost falling on his face. The sense of victory made him grin proudly.
He ran to the wall and stood on his tippy toes, trying to see in the restroom. The window was opened just enough to let air inside but not enough for him to pull himself through.
But he didn’t mind. He hit the jackpot.
He saw Mairon standing by the sink, washing his hands diligently.
Melkor banged on the window, trying to get his attention.
“Hey! Ginger! Open the window, man, help me out!”
Mairon turned his head to face the wraith in the window, demanding to be let in. His face was devoid of any expression that could be read easily.
Melkor’s eyes landed on Mairon’s personal hand soap that he carried in a special neat little box. His drunk ass was suddenly crying with laughter.
“Are you fucking kidding me? Are you carrying a little soap with you? What the fuck is wrong with you!”
Tears were streaming down the side of his face.
“They already have soap, dumbass!”
The laughter was slowly starting to die out.
“Anyway, c’mon, open the window, I’m freezing out here.”
Mairon sighed and approached the window with a few long steps. As he got closer, Melkor was smiling warmly, his eyes filled with appreciation and gratitude.
“Thanks man, you’re really saving my ass right now, I don’t know how I would-”
Slam.
Mairon dusted his hands and turned around, leaving Melkor behind the, now fully closed, window.
Melkor, agape, just stared through the window in disbelief. Once he realised what happened his eyebrows narrowed and he started cursing him.
“I will kill you!!! I will beat your ass once I see you, don’t even dare coming back to class you piece of shit!!! I will tear your legs off and shove them up your ass you ginger gremlin!!!”
Sudden footsteps echoed from behind him.
“You again?!”
The bouncer grabbed Melkor by the sleeve on his jacket, pulling him back.
“What the hell have I told you before?! Wanna get beaten up, punk?!”
Melkor’s irritation flared up. He tried to shake off the bouncer, occasionally kicking him.
“Piss off, dude! Not even your fucking hair stayed where you wanted it so why the fuck should I?! I will- Blegh!!!”
Excruciating pain went through his whole abdomen as the bouncer’s fist made contact with Melkor’s body. He was thrown out once again, laying on a different sidewalk this time.
They all feel the same anyways.

He could barely see the stars due to all the light pollution in the city.
How countlessly they congregate,
as if with keenness for our fate
and yet with neither love nor hate.
He kept watching the sky while laying on his back on the pavement. The alcohol was catching up to him. He was slowly accepting that tonight was a failure. He should have never left his home in the first place.
He slowly sat up and gathered himself, his body feeling sore. He was aching all over.
He reached in his pocket to pull out a cigarette when he noticed a strange emptiness within. The pack fell out of his jacket somewhere along the way.
He grunted and rubbed his forehead.
“Fucking hell…”
He stood up and dusted his ass from all the contact he made with the ground this evening.
“Melkor! Oh god, I can’t let you out of my sight for a second, your whole back is dirty! What did you do, you naughty little imp?”
Such a distant voice…
The memory made him freeze in place for a few seconds. His throat closed up. He would most definitely sulk if it wasn’t for a sudden distraction.
A loud sound brought him back into reality. Melkor instinctively turned around. The bouncer was arguing with someone. Their voices were raised, they looked like they were about to beat each other up.
Melkor slowly approached, his gaze fixed on them.
Some idiot in a tank top and a mohawk with a few braids in it had obviously too much to drink. The bouncer seemed to know him too.
“Stop embarrassing yourself out here and go home, Oromë. You’re hammered.”
It was now or never.
As they pushed each other around, Melkor inconspicuously slipped past them and ran.
A stupid grin was decorating his face as he strutted inside proudly.
He won.

As he stepped down and reached the bar and the dancefloor, he looked around, trying to spot his friends.
The club was crowded, the music was loud, the people were drunk. He was supposed to be having so much fun here but he was… anxious instead?
He couldn't find any of his friends, not even the ginger asshole he wanted to beat up so desperately.
So after giving up he just sat himself on the barstool, thinking of getting a drink. He narrowed his eyes, trying to focus on the prices on the menu. Flipping through the few pages only made him gasp.
“How do people even afford this…”
The names of the drinks made him stare too.
“Slippery Nipple… Duck Fart Shot… what the-”
The bartender interrupted his train of thought.
“What’s it gonna be?”
Melkor looked up, caught off guard for a second, his brain suddenly short circuiting.
“Uh… a beer.”
The bartender just nodded and went to draw him one. Melkor’s gaze followed his hands the whole time, getting lost in his head. He then looked around, scanning his surroundings. Maybe it would be nice to meet someone new here. It doesn't have to be anything romantic, right? He still likes Varda and Varda only. Maybe he can just make a friend. A cute friend perhaps...

His eyes landed on this pretty girl standing in the corner. She seemed sad. 

Maybe I can cheer her up…

Once he was handed the beer, he just grabbed it and wobbly stood up, straightening his shirt as he went. He almost approached her, his eyes already taking in all her gentle features. Soft big eyes, an adorable pixie cut, a little tiny button nose. She looked like a fairy, a gloomy one. At the moment he didn’t want anything else more than to make her smile. He was laughable enough already, he knew making her giggle would not be an issue.
Suddenly, he was brought out of his dreamworld when someone’s tiny hands with sharp claw-like nails buried in his skin through his jacket. He immediately looked over his shoulder, his eyes wide with surprise. Some shorty was using him as a human shield.
“Who the hell are you?”
Her gaze was fixed on someone approaching.
“You can’t do shit to me!” she exclaimed proudly with obvious smugness in her voice.
“My boyfriend will kick your ass!”
A man he has never seen before got dangerously close. He wasn’t as tall, but he was definitely more muscular than Melkor, who seemed desperate at this point.
“Who the hell are you people?”
“I don’t care whether it’s you or your weird emo boyfriend, I want my money back!” growled the guy.
Melkor glared at him, offended and baffled.
“Hey, I’m not weird!”
“You’re not getting any fucking money! I won fair and square!” the girl barked back, both of them ignoring Melkor completely.
The loud music was making it hard for him to understand their conversation, his chest was trembling from the deep vibrations, his head spinning from the alcohol and adrenaline.
“I’m getting my fucking money tonight, bitch!”
Melkor’s eyes widened. The dude was about to swing at him. His brain stopped thinking, he acted on impulse.
The sound of shattering glass was lost in the loud music.
Melkor was standing above an unconscious man laying on the floor in front of him, the girl grinning ear to ear from behind him.
“He’s sleeping!!!”
Blood started spreading around the guy’s head mixing with the beer that spilled everywhere, making a little bloodpool.
Melkor seemed horrified.
“We should get lost before-”
“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO, YOU PSYCHO?”
Everyone turned around, their eyes now glued to Melkor and the girl. What appeared to be a group of the sleepyhead’s friends was now approaching too. The cutie in the corner was wide eyed, her hand covering her mouth in shock. Any chance to make a good first impression on her was ultimately shattered like the pint glass that made contact with the dude’s forehead.
Melkor gulped, not having any idea on how to resolve this.
He noticed Mairon in the crowd. He was just dreamily watching the guy’s unconscious figure. Was he excited about the blood puddle?!
“He came at me, I was just defending myself, I-”
“HE KILLED HIM!” the girl cheered, the sharp teeth making her grin all the more creepy.
“He made him sleeeeep!”
Melkor looked at her over his shoulder, both terrified and pissed off.
“Can you shut the fuck up for a second? Why are you even-”
Sharp pain traveled throughout his jaw. He stumbled and almost fell. He hadn't even noticed who it was, he just knew it was a fist.
Another person joined in on the fight, Melkor was unable to keep track of it all at this point.
The girl chimed in, trying to kick someone but almost getting knockouted by a man who was half a meter taller than her. Melkor grabbed her by her collar and just pulled her away, immediately fleeing the scene. She was trying to escape his grip.
“Let me fight!!!”
Melkor completely ignored her pleading, pulling her up the stairs to the entrance. She tried to kick him but to no avail so she tried biting his arm instead. He yelped.
“CAN YOU STOP ACTING LIKE A RABID DOG?!”
I hope she’s vaccinated at least…
He dragged her further, running past the entrance. They heard sirens in the distance.The bouncer saw him and he was ready to beat his ass again but Melkor was ignoring everything at that point, running as fast as he possibly could while tugging the unhinged beast along.
His heart was beating loudly, his chest heaving. He was out of breath but he couldn’t afford to slow down, the flashing blue and red lights bouncing off the walls of all the buildings around them was a good reminder of how serious this situation got in just a few damn minutes. His feet were hurting, the muscles in his calves and thighs were on fire, he felt the weird prickly sensations in his side. The last time he felt this was during P.E.
“Slow down, my legs are too short!” the girl whined but Melkor didn’t slow down in the slightest. It was all her fault anyway! She should be glad he’s even saving her ass! All of this was going through his head as he heard her cries.
They were running as long as he possibly could and even more than that.
When the lights were far gone and the sound of the sirens wasn’t audible anymore, when they got somewhere secluded and far from the club or roads or anyone else, he finally stopped and fell to his knees, going on all fours, trying to catch his breath.
The alcohol, the adrenaline, the flight, the fear, all of it combined made him puke on the sidewalk.
They were on the outer side of town, surrounded by wooden fences and family houses. The pavement they were on was a little alley between two residential areas. The peaceful atmosphere of this homey place was disrupted by the two drunks heaving behind someone’s home.
Melkor looked up and for the first time since they met he took an actual glance at her.
She was a goth. Big platform boots, a skirt with numerous little chains hanging around it, some type of band shirt and a choker on her neck. Hair was messy and backcombed, maybe shoulder length but it was hard to tell. She looked back at him and grinned, her eyes wide.
Those sharp teeth…
The bite marks on his arm were still burning.
Anger suddenly surged in his heart.
“Are you fucking crazy? What was all that for? WHO ARE YOU?!”
If she at least displayed some type of regret or fear. If she acknowledged she fucked up and ruined his night. His, a complete stranger’s.
But she couldn’t care less.
Her grin wasn’t faltering even for a second.
“How does it feel?”
Her eyes were burning with excitement, it was like they were on fire, shining in the middle of the dark night.
She suddenly gasped, a realization crossing her mind.
“Maybe you killed him! I’ve never talked to a murderer before!!!”
Melkor gasped too, almost moaning with worry and regret.
“No… no, that’s not true… that can’t be…”
She was bouncing on her feet, clapping with her hands.
“Murdeeer!”
His breath was trembling, his whole body going through the shivers.
He slowly got himself up, refusing to even look at her properly.
“We don’t know each other, do you fucking understand?! Get lost! This never fucking happened. Just… go away.”
He started walking in a random direction away from her, not looking behind. That’s what he needed, to leave this night behind. He needed his bed, he needed to sleep it off. This whole day was a bad fucking dream.
He was walking for a minute before he realised he heard another set of footsteps behind him.
He turned around, his gaze falling on her behind him, following him, still grinning. She didn’t say a word but her eyes were practically glued to him.
He was feeling miserable and hopeless at this point.
“Get lost! Shoo!”
He turned away once more, walking away, but the footsteps were following him anyways.
He was losing it. She was like a cockroach, like a bedbug, like a plague. He was too angry, too scared, too irritated to think rationally.
No, he had enough.
With the intention to scare her away he turned around again, fuming.
“I told you to get lo-”
He stopped in his tracks.
The path was empty. No sign of anyone else but him.
He rubbed his forehead.
“Where the hell did she go…”
He suddenly felt too alone. No one else was there, the only sound he heard was the grass rustling in the wind that was humming through the streets and the occasional wing flapping. Bats, maybe…
“I better get home…”
He made his way back through the alleyways, his mind clouded from being intoxicated and scared shitless.
When he finally got home he was both relieved and exhausted.
He managed to force himself to get a shower before falling in his bed with a thud. Both his brother and his father were asleep.
He checked his phone, suddenly seeing a message from Gothmog.
“bro where ar u, u said ur commin??”
He sent a picture of him and Langon dancing with some girls on the dance floor.
It was a totally different club.
Melkor went to the wrong place.

He grabbed his pillow and screamed in it with all the air in his lungs, the high pitched sound easily mistaken for a female voice had he had an audience. Such a scream would echo in the mountains for centuries…

Chapter Text

The path seemed endless. He wasn’t sure if it was just for the darkness surrounding him, or for the many curves of the path running among the eerie trees…
Or for the amount of time he had already spent following the path.
Time.
He wasn’t sure how much time had already passed.
He wasn’t sure if these were the first steps he had taken following this path.
He wasn’t sure what he was doing here or what was happening right before he got here.
He couldn’t see properly through the branches in his way, completely engulfed by this strange, heavy darkness..
The air was earthy and cold and slightly moist, a scent typical for a deep forest. Under any other circumstance he would enjoy a peaceful walk in nature, far away from anyone else.
But not this time.
He felt a need, a compulsion, to turn around every once in a while. To make sure he’s not followed, to make sure he’s there alone.
But the dread of actually seeing something was stronger than his need to know.
So he kept facing forward. He would not stop in his tracks, he would not turn around, he would not slow down.
The branches snapping under his shoes were the only audible sound. Beside that, there was nothing else his ears could pick up on. No birds singing, no leaves rustling, not even the wind blowing.
He wouldn’t admit something was wrong.
He wouldn’t admit he felt scared.
He wouldn’t admit he’d appreciate another living being by his side
He knew he had to follow the path and leave the forest.
The path was more and more often covered in thick, firm roots coming from the surrounding trees. Every little stumble made his heart stop. But as the roots kept on getting in his way, it was harder and harder not to trip over them.
A loud thud echoed through the forest as his body fell down on the path.
His legs got caught in something.
He quickly got on his knees and turned around, inspecting what made him fall over.
It was a thick rope spread across the path.
As he tried to collect himself, his gaze suddenly fell on a pair of boots facing him.
He froze.
His eyes wide, breath catching in his throat.
A sudden realization crossed his mind.
I turned around.
He slowly moved his head up, fear paralysing every single muscle in his body.
And when his eyes finally rose high enough to see the person towering over him…

Melkor groaned.
The light was too bright and intense for his liking.
He felt dry like a desert, his eyes burning as if there was actual sand behind his eyelids. When he tried to form a thought, he could physically feel the crusty sensation of his devoid of moisture hungover brain crumbling into dusty little pieces.
Another groan escaped his parched throat.
He rolled over a few times, not sure whether he wanted to sleep some more or get up and face another day. He’d prefer the first option, but his sore throat and empty stomach slowly egged him to do the inevitable.
His aching body slowly pulled itself up into a sitting position. His legs were down, his elbows leaning on his knees.
The only thing currently on his mind was ibuprofen.
He stood up wobbly, trying not to trip over the mess covering his floor.
Several articles of clothing were scattered across his room, various art supplies thrown in a designated corner, empty bowls and plates across his desk only hiding the charcoal and paint stains beneath them.
He got out of the room.
He felt dirty. His eyelids were glued together and when he managed to open them, he was looking through a milky fog. He tried to rub his eyes to make it better, but it only got worse.
“I swear if it’s the conjucti-bullshit-” he grumbled, but stopped himself when he heard a set of footsteps coming up the staircase. His hand almost reached back for the door handle, but his brother’s eyes already landed on him.

Manwë didn’t look too pleased with his brother’s state.
“You’re finally up,” he muttered, forcing a smile.
“I was getting worried.”
Melkor just rubbed his eyes again, hoping the milky haze would leave his sight.
“Yeah, I just… had a wild night I guess.”
His mind wandered back to yesterday, chills suddenly running along his spine.
For a split second he stared widely into the wall in front of him, the face of the man laying in his own blood popping up in his mind without any warning.
And the weird goth girl too…
What the fuck was that about?!
He shook it off, gently slapping his own forehead.
“What time is it?”
“Almost three in the afternoon…”
Melkor made a sound similar to both a grunt and a whine and slowly shoved himself into the bathroom.

He wasn't looking forward to seeing his father's disappointed face today. With every little reckless thing, with everything that was short of perfect, came either a lecture or a disappointed hollow gaze that would leave a permanent mark on Melkor every time.

Sometimes he felt like trying, like competing for possible approval, but most of the time he just didn't care. Not anymore.

Finally clean he slowly went down the stairs, hoping to go unnoticed for today.
The first place he sneaked into was the kitchen.

He rummaged through the fridge and the pantry, pulling out all sorts of boxes and foods and leaving them on the kitchen counter, trying to find something he'd feel like eating.

That's when he heard paws jumping around on the hardwood floor, getting closer and closer.

Before he tried to turn around in time, an angry looking canine bit his hand.

Melkor yelped at first before he looked down.

“Here's my boy!”

Melkor fell on his knees and started wrestling the creature, giving it head scratches and belly rubs.

“Who's a stinky creature? Who's a stinky little creature? You're a stinky little smelly creature!”
The laughter stopped when he saw a pair of shoes right in front of him. His smile faded.

He quickly looked up.

“Hi dad.”

Father gave him a nod and passed him by, Melkor was still kneeling on the floor with the excited dog.

He got up slowly, now covered in pup hair.

The kitchen counter was still a complete mess.
Eru shot him another quick glance.

“Slept well?”

Melkor looked away, pretending to be interested in a particular item on the counter.

“Yeah, I think I did…”

Eru nodded, making himself a cup of tea.

“You came home really late yesterday…”

Blood ran cold in Melkor's veins.

“Yeah, we went out with Langon and others…”

Eru sighed.

“You’re failing two subjects currently… Don't you think it would be more responsible to stay at home and study instead of-”

“And here we go…”

“You can't be surprised things aren't going smoothly when you do nothing to help your situation. You'll not get far like this, why don't you ask your brother to help you out? He's doing so well-”

“Why can't you get off my back for ONE DAY?”

“Because the clock is ticking and you're still doing nothing.”

“Urghhh!”
Eru rolled his eyes.

“You are acting like a spoiled child. You're almost a grown up. How do you plan to survive in the real world with this attitude?”
Melkor chuckled and raised his voice in a theatrical manner.

“Wouldn't that be the dream? You and Manwë listening to your stupid snob music together, sipping your snobby teas, rich-laughing at pretentious snobby high society anecdotes as you clap your hands and check the stock market while I'm out of the picture not being an inconvenience anymore!”

Eru just sighed.

“You are throwing a tantrum. Exactly like a child. You really need to grow up before it's too late for you.”

“Urghh!!!”

Melkor clenched his fists and grunted before turning around and leaving the kitchen at a fast pace. Carcharoth immediately followed him, still excited and ready to play.

It was so quiet outside at night.
He couldn’t sleep a wink.
He gave up on constantly turning and tossing, trying to find a good position, and just laid on his back, staring at the ceiling and thinking.
He didn’t like thinking.
He pondered back on his father’s words. And on his life in general.
Everything kept fucking itself up. Anything he ever tries, every plan he ever makes, it always falls through. Everything he touches gets tainted and ruined… But it’s never his intention.
At least not at first.
The shadows were constantly moving around his windows, coming in through the blinds as the branches outside his home kept moving around.
He sighed, quietly.
His mind went back to yesterday’s events and his throat closed for a second.
Did he… seriously kill the guy?
Would the police come knocking at his door?
And who the hell was that girl?
One moment she was right behind him and the other she just…
She could blackmail me. Or worse, she could squeal.
He grunted, rubbing his eyes.
Who the fuck am I kidding, everyone in there saw my fucking face. I’m so fucked.
Another painful grunt followed
I hope I won’t see her ever again.

Chapter Text

Watching all the other kids hurry inside was both annoying and amusing.

He stood below a tree, leaning at it, smoking and mentally preparing himself to start another day.

He took a drag from his cigarette while looking in the distance with an empty gaze.

It was too early for him to form a coherent thought…

He recognised some of the kids passing by. Some being his classmates, some just familiar faces he often saw in the corridors.

What finally caught his attention was seeing Varda in the crowd.

Putting on the most confident face he could muster, slowly approached her and spoke up, pretending to be as nonchalant as humanly possible.

“Hi.”

She gave him a quick unamused glance without stopping in her tracks.

“You’re on fire.”

He watched her walk away, confused.

“Thanks…” he said, bewildered, a slight hint of red on his cheeks.

Was it a compliment? 

Her giving him any time of her day always made him feel so warm. Like a flutter of butterflies spreading heat all across his abdomen. 

Heat so intense it overwhelmed him.

Heat so intense it physically hurt…
Sudden pain completely ruined his train of thought.

“FUCK!”

He dropped the cigarette, trying to put out the fire growing on his hoodie, his hands smacking all around his waist in hopes to extinguish it. 

The red tint on his rosy cheeks was there for a completely different reason now.

Langon silently approached him from the herd, his smug expression on, secretly hiding the anxiety and dread he held deep in his heart.
Langon had an issue with his classmate.
There was a girl who apparently fed him lunch or something, Melkor always thought Langon is just being a bit dramatic, so he never paid enough attention to the neverending stories of the horrible third year girl probably flirting with a completely socially unaware Langon.
When Langon got near, he scrunched his nose in that arrogant fashion so typical of him.

“Man, ‘you alright there? You seem pretty-”

“I’M REALLY NOT IN THE MOOD, LANGON!”

Melkor lashed out and stormed off, rushing to the school building.
Langon was left behind on the verge of a mental breakdown.
His lips were quivering from held back tears when he thought about going in too.
All he could think of was the nasty taste of cheap hotdogs…

Melkor skipped his locker and went right into class just before the sound of the ring made it clear he barely made it…
That was his routine.

He quietly sunk into his seat in the back of the classroom, pretending not to be there, except for the few nods and smiles he threw at those who cared enough to wave at him.

When he looked around, he didn’t see Gothmog anywhere.

“The fuckin’ cunt is skippin’ again,” he muttered to himself.

The door suddenly opened and the teacher rushed in.

Melkor straightened his back and bent his knees properly, hiding the fact he hadn't put on indoor shoes today.

“It’s annoying to change shoes, I can run faster out of here when I don’t… It’s not like the teachers change their shoes either,” was the explanation he gave a few years back to one of the teachers. And he still stood behind those words.

“Good morning, class.”

Their civics teacher, Miss Haleth, was an older strong woman with a tight bun and business casual attire. Her tanned skin was always in such a nice contrast with the suits she wore.
Melkor would not admit it out loud, but he loved a good color palette. Seeing colors balanced just right was like scratching an itch he didn’t know he had.

But that was all that he had found interesting about her.
He was indifferent to her as she was indifferent to him. As long as he had his work done she had no issues with him. That was his favorite student-teacher dynamic.

“Today will be a bit chaotic. As we all are preparing for the upcoming art contest, we need as many hands on deck as possible, so you guys will be having these next two periods with 4.A.”

The whole class grunted.

“We don’t want to be with them, they are a bunch of pretentious-”

Melkor wasn’t paying attention to any of that at the moment.

4.A… That’s where Varda is.

A mix of anxiety and longing spread throughout his whole body.

But something else too.

The ginger…

Anger flashed through him as he remembered Friday again.

He forgot about Varda completely all of a sudden.

I will beat his motherfuckin’ ass.

All of them lazily got up, grabbed their things and followed Miss Haleth who led them to the other classroom. Melkor was inconspicuously hidden in the crowd, not wanting to stand out because of the shoes.

They entered the class, Melkor glanced over Varda and almost lost himself in a daydream before his eyes stopped at the sight of long red hair.

Mairon’s desk was neat, his notebooks stacked in one corner and his pens and markers on top.

His default facial expression was a slight smugness mixed with a lot of indifference.

Fuckin’ nerdy bitch!

Melkor forgot himself and stepped out of the crowd, going right towards Mairon. His fists were clenched, the rage within him burning. He was so ready to just-

“Seriously, Melkor?” Miss Haleth’s voice echoed through the classroom, followed by a tired sigh.

“Go change your shoes.”

He turned around.

“Wha- but- these are my indoor shoes!”

The teacher took a quick glance at his feet, her face showing not even a hint of a feeling except for weariness and annoyance.

“Your indoor shoes are… muddy combat boots?”
She didn’t have to say anything else, Melkor gave up.

“Alright, I’m going…”

He was cursing the whole time going down the stairs, Mairon’s smirk was flashing in front of his eyes.

I will fucking kill him. He's fucking finished. When I get him I'll-

He took forever untying the laces, but slipping in his indoor shoes was indeed more comfortable.

He was about to go back, when an opened door leading to the secretariat caught his attention.

He peeked in, seeing the deputy principal and-

Two serious-looking men in police uniforms.

His eyes widened.

Blood ran cold through his veins.

He knew it was going to happen. He knew he couldn't run away from it.

But why here? Why now?

Fuck!

He ran back, as fast as he possibly could, not looking back.

Maybe if he runs fast enough, he might be able to escape, to get away from it all.

The image of the man in the bar was vivid in front of his eyes. The blood slowly leaking from his busted skull, spilling on the floor, staining everything it came in contact with.

Like his future… His life that was now forever ruined by him being thrown into a cold cell, losing everything that might have been. A good job, a chance at love, his dreams coming true…

How could he face his father like this…

He almost fell when a familiar figure suddenly got into his way.

“You promised to be giving with BOTH hands, you greedy, cheating piece of shit!”

The slender figure wasn't strong per say, but the energy radiating from her was definitely threatening. Her viper-like vicious looking eyes and wide mouth were beautifully chill-inducing.

Melkor’s fear and anxiety turned into anger.

“Seriously?! I already told you I'll have the money next month! Don't you see I'm in a rush?! Move the fuck away!”

He tried to walk around her, but with one quick sidestep Ungoliant got in his face again.

“That wasn't our former agreement though, was it? Bitch.”

“I don't have time for this!”

He pushed her in a way that made her stumble, while he kept running past her.

She watched him disappear in the stairwell, her eyes narrowed

“You shouldn't have done this…”

Melkor got into the class and quickly sat down, his eyes wide and his breath shaking.
Miss Haleth was already gone, 4.B and 4.A being grouped together with Mr.Barahir behind the desk.

Maybe if he'll close his eyes, everything will go away…

The teacher's voice cut through the classroom.

“We're doing a group project, Melkor. You're paired with Mairon, go sit next to him, he'll tell you what to do.”

Melkor gulped.

After he slowly gathered his things he stood up and took a good long glance at the ginger.

All the rage he had for him was suddenly gone.

What good is a beef with an ugly ginger when I'm about to face a life sentence…

He gasped.

Twenty years… spent on an electric chair…

The room will smell like burnt pork…

He whined and sat next to Mairon, his face buried in his calloused palms.

Mairon couldn't care less. He kept scribbling on his paper, doing whatever assignment they were supposed to do.

“I would let you help, but we both know you're not mentally capable of doing something as underwhelming as reading a textbook and writing down the words you read…” Mairon said quietly in a composed and gentle tone while working on the assignment.

Melkor just shook his head, his face still in his hands.

“I'm about to go to prison…” he said, his voice cracking with an unexpected vulnerability.

“I don't remember asking…”

But Melkor kept going. He let out a shaky breath.

“I killed a man…”

Mairon froze.

He looked up from the textbook and his attention was now fully on Melkor.

“What are you talking about?”

Melkor put his arms down on the desk, leaning on them with his forehead.

“I was trying to save this crazy ass chick and I hit someone in the head with a beer mug in the middle of a club… I'm fucking done for…”
“Was there… blood?”

“Yeah…”

Melkor almost choked on the tears he held back, but he didn’t let it stop him from spilling his insides out in front of the uncaring ginger.

“I've seen two fucking policemen down at the hall, they are fucking coming for me, I don't know what to do-”

“How much blood?” Mairon cut off Melkor.

“Was it flowing? Did you see the guy’s skull?”

“It was fucking everywhere, I-”

Melkor raised his head, finally looking at Mairon’s face. 

His eyes were lit up and sparkling. His lips were just slightly parted. His cheeks were suddenly very rosy. Melkor has never seen Mairon this alive.

“You're fucking excited about this, you sick fucking freak!”

Melkor threw his own half torn worn out textbook Mairon's way, some of the pages just falling out.

The teacher called out, not looking up from his computer.

“Melkor, keep it down!”
Suddenly knocks echoed throughout the classroom.

The whole class looked towards the door.

Melkor didn't.

His heart was beating so fast.

How did this happen…

The teacher stood up and opened the door.

The policemen were looking so stern…

Melkor finally looked up.

Suddenly, his heart slowed down.

His breath evened out.

He was ready to face his fate.

“Hello, is this 3.C?”

The teacher shook his head.

“No, this is 4.A. 3.C should be in biology now, why? Is everything alright?”

One of the officers immediately put his hands up, trying to calm down anyone who might panic.

“All is fine, we were called because some kid got their hands in a pair of cuffs apparently,” the policeman said, shaking a small key in front of the teacher's face.

“We're here to free their hands and take the cuffs back.”

The teacher rubbed the bridge of his nose.
It was like he knew who this was about.

The conversation went on, but Melkor totally pushed that out of his mind.

His mouth was agape, his eyes wide again.

Mairon leaned in.

“So… did you really kill a guy?”

Melkor felt weirdly empty.

Walking through the cafeteria like a ghost was nothing new, but this time he actually felt like one.

I should feel relieved, but I feel… nothing instead…

He spotted Langon in the distance, looking anxious as always.

Seeing him brought a smile to Melkor’s face.

He slowly approached him.

“Hey man, sorry for snapping at you earlier.”

No snarky remark, nothing. Langon kept staring at the floor.

Melkor's eyes narrowed.

“You good, man?”

Langon shook his head.

“I can't take it anymore… The girl, I can't do it, man. I don't know what to do…”

Melkor gave him a side eye.

“The chick that's bringing you food?”
Melkor wanted to continue talking, but Langon immediately cut him off.

“SHE'S NOT BRINGING ME FOOD, SHE'S FORCE-FEEDING ME HOT DOGS! HOT DOGS! TODAY SHE PUT A PAIR OF HANDCUFFS ON ME! SHE SAID NOTHING IS GOING TO HAPPEN BUT SOMETHING DID IN FACT HAPPEN! THEY HAD TO CALL THE POLICE TO GET ME OUT OF ‘EM. THE FUCKING POLICE, MELKOR! SHE JUST KEEPS LAUGHING AND LAUGHING AND LAUGHING AS SHE TORTURES THE SHIT OUT OF ME, I CAN'T TAKE IT NO MORE!”

Melkor took a step back, completely shocked by this outburst. 

He knew Langon can be a drama queen sometimes, but this was something else entirely.
Was it really this serious?

“It's just some girl messing with you, how bad can it be?”

Langon didn't hear him though.

He saw something in the distance and hid behind Melkor, ferociously biting his nails in panic.

Melkor didn't understand at first, but when he looked at the cafeteria entrance…

He saw her…

Backcombed hair, bold eyeliner, a band shirt and cargo pants…

The moment Thuringwethil noticed them, her smile grew big. She ran towards them with her manic eyes open so wide they were about to fall out of her skull at any moment. 

Melkor didn't rush when it was about time to go home.

He slowly tied his boots as all the other kids ran away. Gothmog wasn't there to wait for him and Langon always scurried away as fast as possible.

I get him… I feel as fidgety as him on the inside… But I can't afford being this way… I can't keep hiding when shit gets tough…

He straightened himself and threw his backpack over his shoulder.

He looked around, the art contest posters scattered across the walls.

He was about to leave when…

Something in him made him stop.

He turned around.

“Art contest. Submit your paintings before Monday the 18th to the art teacher.”

Below that were listed the art supplies allowed to use and how big the canvas has to be.

He kept staring at the poster for minutes.

So many reasons to participate, so many reasons not to…

But it boiled down to one single question.

Would it make father proud?

“It will be 52.90.”

Melkor excitedly reached into his wallet, pulling out a 50 and putting it in the cashier's hand.

“Thank you so much, keep the change!”

With a canvas under his arm and a bag filled with fresh new art supplies, he ran out of the store fast enough that he didn't even hear the cashier calling out to him that he was short on money.
He didn’t care about the money he was owing Ungoliant, the debt was never on his list of priorities.

He got home, his face glowing.

I'm not gonna end up in jail. Maybe the guy's not even dead.
I'm gonna have a good life. I'll study, I'll do my best, I'll work on myself.
Father will be proud, Varda might finally like me, I'll not end up as a fuck up.
Everyone can be happy, why couldn’t it include me as well?

He hasn't felt this excited in years.