#rowyn's arc

He shakes out his hands, and pushes open the door. The small bell chimes above the door, and his eyes flit across the many tables until they land on the four people he didn't know if he'd ever see again.

Father stands out the most. He's a fairly large man, matched by his big opinions and willingness to stand by them. Even from behind, Rowyn can tell that he hasn't changed his haircut; His black hair is still kept short and neat, sharp lines bordering his face.

Mother, sitting next to him, has her brown hair twisted in elegant curls, a soft blue dress draped across her shoulders. His breath hitches when she turns to say something to Father and he sees her face for the first time in years. She's aged, but beautifully, a few more lines framing her eyes and lips, but her pale skin seems to glow in the light.

And then he sees them. His heart stops, before jumping back into motion. Hands sweaty, he takes a step towards them, trying to drink in every detail. This doesn't feel real.

How many times has he pictured this moment? Wondered what they'd look like? What they'd say?

He stumbles forward another step, walking right past the hostess with a vague gesture at the table. Different conversations wash over him as he passes other groups, but his eyes stay fixed on Liam and Finn.

He knows they're in public, and his parents are there too, but for a moment, all he can think is They're so big now. These aren't the kids he remembers - they are proper teenagers.

One of them meets his eyes (he realizes he's not sure who's who from this far away), and their eyes light up, grinning. He nudges the other twin (goddamnit, he wishes he knew which was which) and he frowns, looking at Rowyn with something clouded.

His steps falter. He thought they both wanted him there? His eyes are burning with tears. They have every reason to be mad at him. Why did he think this was a good idea?!

Suddenly, a shout shatters the atmosphere, heads turning to look at them, "Wynnie!" There's only one person who has ever called him that.

He wants to cry. Tears sting his eyes, and he swallows them back, fighting the lump in his throat as Finn's chair is pushed back and then his arms are full of his brother.

"Finny," he murmurs into his hair, hugging him back just as fiercely, forgetting for a moment all the anxiety.

Finn is laughing, hands gripping the back of his shirt, and he buries his face in his little brother's hair (he's almost twice as big as he remembers, but he's still an entire head shorter than Rowyn). He soaks up the warmth of the moment, the restaurant suddenly seeming brighter, Finn's happiness making everything worth it.

The moment has to end, however, and it does so abruptly, when someone on their right clears their throat. Rowyn slowly opens his eyes, rebuilding his mental fortifications as Finn slips out of his hold.

From the corner of his eye, he sees Finn straighten his posture, then tug nervously on his shirt, before sitting back next to his brother.

Mother is now standing right next to him, a smile plastered on her face, but he can see it doesn't reach her eyes. "You came," she says, voice exactly how he remembers it, even as she sounds a little surprised.

For once, he's thankful for his customer service training, schooling his face into a smile as his voice takes a teasing and only slightly sarcastic edge, "Well, I couldn't disappoint the graduates now, could I?"

Her green eyes, so like his, remain cold as she folds him into a hug.

A mother's hug is such a cliché, but his mother's hug is anything but comforting. Bony and tight in a way that doesn't at all remind him of his childhood or the softness he knows she's capable of, instead feeling claustrophobic.

He lets her wrap herself around him, focusing on keeping the peace as much as possible. Remembering how important their public image is to them, he forces his stiff body to soften into her hold, his arms finally coming up to hug her back. This close up, he can't help but notice how her brown hair is now interspersed with flecks of grey - yet another reminder of how much time has passed. After a minute, however, he can't help but squirm, hoping it looks natural, how he wiggles himself out of her grip.

Turning to the table, he forces his face to remain expressionless as he realizes his father has stood to greet him.

This is the man that he looked up to as a child. The man who taught him, guided him, punished him, and loved him. This was also the man who turned his back on his kid, telling him he had to leave. The man whose love became conditional because of something Rowyn couldn't control.

Seeing him standing there, tall and righteous, he shivers with fear, eyes flicking over to his brothers, before squaring his shoulders and bracing for whatever is coming.

His father holds out his hand, and Rowyn sighs internally (a handshake then, not a hug). He meets his father's hand in a firm grip, and he's pulled against his body as his father leans down, muttering in his ear, voice low and vaguely threatening, "You better behave." Rowyn nods shakily, pulling away, finally able to sit down. If there was any doubt before, it's clear that he would rather Rowyn wasn't here today, the invitation clearly coming from his mother and at least one of his brothers.

Looking over at the twins, Finn is bouncing in his seat, but Liam is sitting stone-faced. Liam nods once at him, not meeting his eyes, greeting him with a cool, "Rowyn."

After Finn's welcome, Liam's lack of any warmth and nicknames is heartbreaking, even if not entirely unexpected.

Finn nudges Liam, who turns to Finn with a glare, before he softens, squeezes his hand, and sighs.

"Hi Liam," Rowyn adds softly, hands twisting under the table as he tries to control his emotions. Liam's eyes narrow, but otherwise he stays indifferent.

Now that he's closer to them, he can find the subtle differences that distinguish one twin from the other. Liam's face is the smallest bit narrower, his chin a touch pointier. Finn's hair is just a bit messier, as though he doesn't spend as much time as Liam trying to make it lie flat. He soaks them in, analyzing every detail he can.

Liam's wearing a smart button up shirt in a forest green colour, and Rowyn's glad that at least his favourite colour doesn't seem to have changed.

When Rowyn processes that Finn is wearing a light grey polo shirt, however, his heart sinks a little, a hint of dread filtering in, thinking of the bright bubbly kid who loved vibrant colours.

He opens the menu, hoping to distract himself from the questions starting to overtake his mind. Concerns about his parents raising two of the sweetest kids he's ever met. Worries about how him leaving might have affected household dynamics. Frustrations at being unable to ask these questions. Fear at what Liam and Finn might be sacrificing to survive in this town.

Nope, eyes on the menu, he reprimands himself, when he starts to look back at his brothers. He needs this moment of respite to organize his thoughts. He scans the menu, looking for something light and cheap. His stomach still feels tight and sore from the train earlier, and he does not want to be feeling sick while dealing with his parents. And he's already spent money on train tickets and a hotel, he can't afford too much more with this trip.

This train of thought is interrupted when the waiter arrives, and he's dropped back in reality, gaze landing on his stern-as-ever father, as he orders a beer and some intense steak meal that Rowyn doesn't remember the name of. It's in such contrast to his mother, who gets a salad (he's sure it's something carefully curated and put together, but it's still a salad).

When the waiter turns to him, he feels the attention of all four family members turn to him, and he fumbles with the menu, clearing his throat uselessly and pushing out the words to ask for "just water and the spaghetti aglio e olio, please", wincing at the way his voice cracks in the middle of the sentence, face flushing as he looks down.

Normally, he wouldn't care, but knowing his parents are judging his every action is making him inordinately self-conscious. It reminds him of his childhood, spending all his energy trying to please them, whether with good grades, "proper" behaviour, or seamless appearance. This thought turns the embarrassment into a flash of anger, and he straightens his posture, looking up to catch the end of Liam's pizza order.

When the waiter smiles at them and leaves, the table falls back into an awkward silence, tense emotion bubbling at the edges. Instead of boiling over into a messy interrogation, it settles into painfully neutral small talk (Rowyn's not sure which would be preferable at this point).

Finn starts them off by turning to Rowyn practically with stars in his eyes, "So what have you been up to, Wynnie?" he asks innocently, and Rowyn almost cringes away from the landmine riddled question.

He glances at his parents. His father has frozen, staring at him. He meets his gaze evenly, then turns back to Finn.

"I've, um, been figuring out who I am," he winces at the non-answer, "I'm applying to vet school soon," he offers with a shrug.

"That's so cool!" Finn answers, and he can't stop the small smile from his brother's enthusiasm.

"Thanks. I just finished my third year of animal biology, but I'm taking a couple classes this summer too."

Finn nods thoughtfully, then asks, "And are you living by yourself? Or do you have a girlfriend or something?" It's not his fault, Rowyn tells himself, He doesn't know that's a dangerous topic. He can feel his father's icy stare from across the table, and his mother's hands white-knuckling her glass, and he takes a deep breath.

"No, I'm not living by myself," he answers slowly, squirming, "There's five of us in the apartment. I don't have a girlfriend," he adds hastily, hating the way he has to pretend Colin doesn't exist, desperately wanting to add, I do have a boyfriend though.

He takes a deep breath as his mother and father relax slightly, "What about you guys though? What have you been up to? How was grade 8?"

Finn and Liam glance at each other, and surprisingly, Liam is the first to answer him.

"It was good. Classes were easy, and I - we - have some good friends." Finn nods, but doesn't look at him. He suspects that that was a practiced answer, censored for the sake of their parents, and the dread crawls further up his throat, stomach clenching.

And in other news, his voice is so deep now. As Rowyn comes to this realization, Finn adds, "I was in debate club though, and that was pretty fun."

Rowyn meets his eyes, smiling for real this time, "Really? I love a good debate."

Finn perks up, glancing at their parents, before telling a few stories about his experiences. He sounds like he's reciting a script, and Rowyn catches the dark glance that Liam sends at their parents.

The waiter interrupts, having returned with large plates of food. Rowyn's stomach grumbles apprehensively as the plate of pasta is placed in front of him.

He waits until his parents have started to eat, before hesitantly digging in, relieved when his stomach seems to accept the food with minimal complaint. He really did get the blandest thing possible, in hopes that it would be okay.

"Liam," his mother sighs, and Rowyn looks over, apprehensive, "Would you use a fork and knife like a civilized person." She phrases it like a question, but he knows from experience that that was more an instruction than anything else.

Finn groans, almost inaudibly, as Liam stares her dead in the eye and picks up a slice of his pizza, taking an enormous bite, practically oozing teenage impetuousness. Rowyn muffles the laugh that wants to burst out at the flash of the sassy little brother he remembers.

"Liam," his father interjects, voice tense. Rowyn clenches his fist at the stifling nature of his parents, watching as Liam practically deflates, glaring at his food.

Throughout their meal, Finn chatters away, seemingly content to have everyone together. While Liam isn't saying much, it's clear he's hanging on every word, even as he pretends not to care. He's sulking, for lack of a better word, slouched just enough for Rowyn to notice the slump in his shoulders without being obvious enough that their parents would pick up on it.

Rowyn learns a handful of tidbits about Liam - he plays baseball and loves it, he has lots of friends (unlike Finn, it would seem), and he's mad at him. Okay, that last one might be his emotions playing tricks on him, but he's certainly being more aloof and acting out more than Rowyn remembers. That could also be the effects of time, he reminds himself, hating every instance he's reminded of the 4 year gap in the timeline.

It's nice, talking to Finn and Liam again. He missed them so much. Even Liam, who's disposition is so different than he remembers, shows him flashes of the little boy he knew. The mischievous expression that meant he did something he wasn't supposed to, the inflection in his speech that's the same, the soft way he looks at Finn.

Finn has changed too, but in more subtle ways. He's always looking at either Liam or his parents, as if trying to gauge reactions. He's answering carefully, as if there's always more he wants to say or ask. It reminds Rowyn of how he always had to curate what he was saying and how he was acting growing up, and it breaks his heart that Finn is going through something similar.

Mother and Father have remained shockingly quiet. Occasionally interjecting with something to add to the twins' stories, or a correction to their behaviour. The two of them eventually engage in a conversation about the church, to no-one's surprise. Rowyn listens halfway, recognizing some names and collecting little updates, making him weirdly nostalgic.

Even hearing all of this, there's the niggling reminder in the back of his head that he has a life to return to. It's a life he fought for, and a life he wants to return to, he realizes with a start. He has friends, and a boyfriend, two things he thought were nearly impossible when he was Liam and Finn's age.

So as much as he wants a relationship with his brothers, he's starting to understand that knowing them is not worth his security and comfort, when he has a home to go back to.

He doesn't want to say goodbye to them again, but maybe that's what he ought to do…

But would he really be capable of leaving them behind with his parents, when clearly they're not thriving? Could he really leave his brothers with the problems he tried so hard to get away from?

He blinks. They're all looking at him expectantly. What did he miss?! He glances around the table for a hint, realizing with a start that all the plates are gone, and looking up to find the waiter standing awkwardly next to him.

He clears his throat, mumbling that he's finished, catching his mother's disapproving frown across the table.

He wasn't prepared for them to start ordering dessert, even though he probably should've been, considering it's a celebratory dinner after all.

Luckily, he works in a cafe, and is relatively knowledgeable when it comes to food, so he's able to order some cannolis without seeming any more like a moron.

While they're waiting for dessert to come, Finn excuses himself to the washroom, which leaves a stilted silence in his wake.

Liam opens his mouth, as if to say something, but clearly rethinks it, closing his mouth and slumping down in his seat, finger drawing aimless patterns on the tablecloth.

His father's booming voice softens into a hiss as he reprimands him, "Finn, sit up straight!"

Immediately, he sees Liam flinch, and his "don't make a scene" rule is overridden by his "make sure Finn and Liam are having a good time" rule.

"That's Liam!" he snaps at the same time that Liam mutters, "I'm Liam, father," disdain coating the word.

Even his mother looks at him with something displeased shimmering in her eyes. Father rolls his eyes, but ultimately doesn't comment further.

Liam sends a small smile towards Rowyn, whose protective instincts as the older sibling are still raging in full force, and for the first time, it feels like maybe they're on the same page.

The moment is broken when Finn returns, and then dessert arrives, and Rowyn feels exhaustion start to creep in. He hates that they still haven't talked about anything of substance. Everything has been so surface level, that he hasn't even told them what tonight has meant to him.

Between the afternoon spent puking his guts out, the emotional intensity of the evening, and having to maintain his polite façade in the presence of his family, his energy is drained, and suddenly he wants nothing more than to be asleep.

He lets the conversation wash over him, still listening, but not engaged nearly as much. He slowly makes his way through his cannoli, the cool cream filling refreshing and light enough that it seems to sit okay in his stomach.

Finn keeps glancing at him, as if wanting him to participate more, but all he can offer is an apologetic shrug.

When the bill comes, all he feels is relief, until he realizes the waiter only brought one check. It hadn't even occurred to him that his parents would pay for him, but suddenly it's the last thing he wants. He came back to this town, and he put up with their presence all evening, but he will not be indebted to them in any way.

"Excuse me," he interrupts, "I'd like to split the bill," he adds, the waiter looking at him in surprise.

"Okay, I can bill yours separately?" he questions, unsurely looking between him and his father, who are locked in a stare-down.

"Yes, please," Rowyn confirms. Time freezes for a moment after he leaves, before his mother descends on him with a whispered "Do you realize how that looks?!"

For the first time all night, he leans into his sarcasm properly, scathingly answering, "Like I value my independence?"

"There are people we know here, Rowyn! What are they going to think, when they realize we're not paying for you?" He distantly realizes that it's the first time she's said his name all evening.

There are a hundred rebuttals that race through his mind, everything from, "You realize not a single person is paying nearly as much attention to you as you seem to think?" to "I'm the one who asked to split the check, it doesn't say anything about you!" but before he can land on one, his father decides his contribution is necessary.

"Let's not make any more of a scene," he says, and that's that. His mother sits back, and Rowyn huffs out a breath, forcing his frown to relax. He knows better than to tempt his father's temper.

Finn glances between them all, small frown in place as he seems to be looking for something to say, probably to ease the tension that has thickened the atmosphere.

The waiter returns with two bills this time, and they pay in silence, before shuffling out of the restaurant.

It's a cool night, and the street is dark and quiet, illuminated only by a distant street light.

Rowyn trails after his family as they march towards their car at the far end of the small parking lot.

His mother turns back to look at him, giving him a tense smile, and a weak "Goodbye Rowyn," before climbing in the passenger seat. His father nods at him once, before the driver's side door closes on him.

Rowyn's left with Finn and Liam, finally awarded a small moment of privacy.

Finn rushes into his arms for the second time that night, and he buries his face in his hair again, breathing him in and relishing the moment.

"I missed you so much," he whispers to him, feeling him squeeze tighter in response, Rowyn huffing out a laugh.

"When will we see you again?" Finn asks, and Rowyn's eyes well up with tears.

"I don't know," he answers truthfully, watching Finn's face fall.

When they finally detach, Rowyn finds Liam leaning against the car, arms crossed and face stony once more.

"Liam," he pleads, needing to hold him again, "Can I please have a hug?"

He doesn't move for a minute, and Rowyn's nerves are all on edge, until Finn sighs, and walks over, pushing Liam forward.

He crashes into Rowyn, and for a second its bony and awkward, and then all of a sudden, they fit, and it's exactly how it should feel, hugging your little brother again.

Liam sniffles against his shoulder, and he murmurs, "I am so sorry, Lee. I never wanted- I didn't mean to leave you like that, okay? It wasn't anything that you guys did, it's just what had to happen." It's still not as much of an explanation as what's owed, or as he'd like to say, but he's still acutely aware of his parents in the car, no doubt watching the interaction.

He's proven right when his father rolls down his window, calling out a sharp, "Let's go, boys." There's a rough movement in the corner of his eye, and he realizes it must have been Finn, practically flinching at their father's voice.

Liam drifts away, subtly wiping his eyes, and Rowyn feels the loss of warmth immediately.

Finn walks towards the car backwards, so he can wave at Rowyn at the same time, and he grins, waving back. Liam doesn't look back until the last second, calling a rough, "Bye Ro-Ro," over his shoulder, and Rowyn's heart flips, hearing his brother's childhood nickname for him.

"Bye ," he whispers, as the car drives away, leaving him in the parking lot.

As the social hangover washes over him, he realizes he either has to walk back to the hotel, or get an Uber. Walking through the cool night sounds wildly unpleasant, but he still hesitates to pay for a ride.

He starts towards his hotel, still knowing the way around the town without a map. He finds his feet dragging, though, thoughts running at a million miles an hour in his head. He stumbles to a stop on a bench, deciding screw it, he's ordering a ride.

As he waits for the car to get there, he realizes how validating it was to see his parents again, in a weird twisted way. He hates how they make him feel, of course, and while knowing that they see him as a stain on the family is not pleasant, it's oddly satisfactory to know that he didn't exaggerate or overreact at all - they are exactly as awful as he remembers, if not worse.

They didn't make him feel anything other than small and incompetent all night.

His brothers on the other hand… Well, it was the most amazing thing to see them all grown up, even if he had to face the harsh truth of what 4 years and 5 months apart means.

The car pulls up, and he relaxes into the back seat with a sigh, the weight of the past few hours (or really the past few days) pressing down on him so much that he almost falls asleep.

Luckily, they get to the hotel before that happens, and he clumsily walks up to his room.

The second the door closes behind him, his breath hitches with a sob, and then tears are streaming down his face, hot and heavy.

There were too many emotions for him to process, and honestly he's still wrung out from his adventures in the bathroom earlier, and he misses home so much.

He collapses on the bed, not even bothering to take his shoes off yet, burying his face in the pillow as he cries. By the time the tears run out, he's sniffling weakly, eyelashes stuck together, and face covered in snot. He heaves himself up to wash his face, somehow feeling lighter now that he's not holding everything in, finally starting to process the weight of missing Finn and Liam.

Taking his shoes off, and changing into something comfier, he sits back on the bed, staring at his phone.

On one hand, he desperately wants to hear Colin's voice, and he misses the warmth of their apartment after the coldness of the evening so much, but he can't bring himself to call him, or have to talk about how it went when he's hardly even processed it himself.

Even though he thinks Colin would understand, he knows he would just end up crying more, and the thought of having to talk to anyone else, socialize anymore feels entirely too overwhelming.

He scrubs his face dry of the few tears that leaked down his face while he was thinking about him, letting out a half-wet half-hysteric laugh at how completely done he feels. He's just about to open that biochem article from earlier, in an effort to distract himself, when his hotel landline rings, startling him so much that he jumps, his phone falling from his hand, bouncing on the mattress, and clattering to the floor.

He stares at the hotel phone for a moment, wondering if, after all of that, he's hallucinating or something.

But no, the phone is really ringing with a loud obnoxious trill. Weird. Who would be calling on the hotel landline?