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“Boys? Could I have a word with you?” The two heads of the men present turned towards Gilbert as he stuck his head into the locker rooms, pausing their conversation to listen to him.“‘Course, what do you need, coach?” The shorter of them answered, gesturing for him to come in and sit with them. He did so, grateful for the chance to rest his bad knee. Curiosity shone in the men’s eyes as they waited for him to state his business, their expressions open and unafraid. “I have received a request for a transfer to our team. And I wish to discuss it with you both first, before I make any kind of decision.”“Just us? Why not the whole team?” A frown creased the face of the taller man, confusion clear in his gaze. He had always been a perceptive one, and Gilbert couldn’t help but smile at him. “Because this matter concerns you two in ways it does not concern the others.” The confusion only seemed to grow between them at his words, their brows settling into matching frowns. “The transfer request comes from Morpheus Ateleios. Given your… history with him, I thought it wise to first ask for your opinion on this.”The men blinked at him for a long moment, too stunned to formulate a response. The shorter man caught himself first, and began to pace the room as he answered, his hands gesturing wildly, as they so often did when he was either nervous or excited. “Morpheus Ateleios asked to be transferred to our team? Offence player for the Riggers. The guy I gave a black eye last season.” Gilbert nodded, having had similar thoughts when he had woken up to this particular email. “But why? He hates our guts.”“I truly don’t know, son. It came as a surprise to me as well. There had been no talk about a planned transfer before today. All I can say is that he wrote to me the very day after Roderick’s sudden death last week.”“Sounds to me like he’s running.” The other man finally spoke up, his face one of mixed emotion. Anger, fear, tentative hope, all so easily read from his set jaw and the small light brightening in his eyes. “Those were my thoughts as well. And you know I am not one inclined to turn away those who are in search of shelter. That being said, my responsibility lies with you boys, first and foremost. So, what do you think?”The smaller man was the first to answer this question as well, his pacing coming to an end right in the middle of the room. “There has to be a reason why he wants to be transferred to our team, of all the teams out there. I say we do it.”Gilbert nodded, having expected this sort of answer from his player. He cared much more for Mr. Ateleios than their history would give away. “You will make sure to keep your affections in check, I assume?”A blush spread over over the man's face and to the tip of his ears, but he inclined his head in agreement nonetheless. “Yes, of course. You have my word on that.”“Very well. What about you, son?” The other man sighed, but eventually nodded as well. “Fine. But I can’t promise he will be happy to see me.”“Well, good thing then we will only have to worry about that when you’re back at the end of next season, right?”- - - Hob seemed to be nervous today. He was pacing, up and down the living room, gesturing even more animatedly than usual while telling Morpheus about the ending of the movie they had watched the evening before, which he might have missed by matter of falling asleep halfway through. For a few minutes, Morpheus simply observed his friend, trying and failing to figure out what the reason for his nervousness could be. But there was nothing unusual about today or even next week, only Drink Night and training and another match at the end of the week. Nothing that would usually cause him to worry. “Hob?” he finally called out after ten minutes of observation, a hint of the confusion he was feeling making its way into his voice. “Will you tell me what’s wrong?”His friend immediately stopped in his tracks, hands falling uselessly to his sides. “I was pacing again, wasn’t I?” “You were,” Morpheus stepped closer to Hob and let his head fall on his shoulder, knowing that touch was one of the things that brought Hob the most comfort in these moments. Almost instantly his friend started to deflate, one of his hands coming up to run through Morpheus’ hair, and he allowed it for a few moments without saying a word, hoping that Hob would begin talking of his own accord. When it became clear that he wouldn’t do so, Morpheus turned his head to look at him, the angle giving him a clear view of Hob’s profile. “What’s wrong, Kollitós? If you tell me, we can find a way to fix it.” He was mirroring Hob’s words from a few months ago, and from the small huff that left his lips it didn’t go unnoticed.“‘Kollitós’? That’s a new one. What does it mean?” Hob deflected, which was rather unusual for him. Morpheus pretended he didn’t notice and placed a hand on Hob’s chest, right over his heart. “Best Friend,” It was a simple answer, a word Morpheus had been thinking about for a long time now. There had never been someone like Hob in his life, someone he trusted so completely and who brought out the best in him. He was, on all accounts, the best friend Morpheus had ever had. But, perhaps, it was not a notion the two of them shared. After all, Hob was a much more sociable person, he had plenty of friends, many of whom he had known for the better part of his life, much longer than he knew Morpheus. “You don’t have to… to feel the same way about me, of course. But I wished for you to know.”Morpheus did not quite manage to finish his sentence before he was pulled into a crushing hug, Hob’s arms squeezing his ribs so hard he struggled to breathe, but he couldn’t help the chuckle escaping him at his friend’s enthusiasm. “What do you mean, I do not have to feel the same? Are you crazy, of course I do!” A kiss was pressed to Morpheus’ cheek, and he felt the spot growing warm under Hob’s gaze. “I am glad, then,” He whispered in response, and cuddled up closer to his friend. “I guess you don’t want to talk about what’s stressing you out?”Hob placed another kiss on his cheek before letting him go, an apologetic smile on his lips. “I’m sorry, lovey. Trust me that it’s nothing bad?”Another sigh, but Morpheus nodded. “Alright. You know I trust you.” - - - Two hours and three glasses of wine later, Morpheus sat in the midst of his team, laughing over a story Matthew told, when the door to The New Inn opened behind him. Usually he would have barely noticed, after all guests came and went like clockwork at a place like this, but the way all heads at the table suddenly turned towards the door meant this wasn’t just another guest. But who could possibly cause them all to perch up like this, to smile and cheer and wave like they had never been happier to see someone?“Olethros?” Morpheus whispered as he turned around, the name of his baby brother feeling so foreign and yet so familiar on his tongue. “Hello, Oneiros.”It had been years since he last heard that nickname, a decade at least. The last time Morpheus had heard it was on the day of Delilah's funeral. It had also been the day Olethros ran from their home, after their parents had tried to pretend her death had been of natural causes, an accident, a simple fall down the stairs where she had broken her neck instead of the real tragedy it had been. The last time Morpheus had heard that nickname, his brother had been in shambles, looking more like a haunted man than the child he had still been. He had been too skinny, much like Morpheus himself had been, struggling to eat and sleep and live with the knowledge their sister had taken her own life. But Olethros had blamed himself for her death, for he had believed that he had been supposed to protect her and that he had failed. It had destroyed him. Now, there was a smile on his brother’s face, and a child in his arms. A little girl, no older than a year, with a shock of red hair and a smile that rivalled that of her father’s. Because there was no doubt about it, this ray of sunshine could hardly be anyone else’s. And Olethros looked… good. Happy. Settled. All the things he never had back home, especially during those past weeks, and also never had when they had seen each other on the pitch. Or perhaps he had, and Morpheus had simply been so blinded by anger and judgement and fear that he hadn’t seen. He couldn’t remember why he had ever ignored his brother on the field, now, why he hadn’t tried to reconcile, to find out how he had fared. So much lost time. So many lost chances. But what if his brother was angry with him for all those years he had pretended that he did not care for his presence? What if he took offence to Morpheus joining his team, saw it as betrayal for someone of the family he left behind to infiltrate his new life? What if he didn’t want to have Morpheus here? Would they make him leave? Would they favour their long-time friend and teammate over him, if Olethros wished for it? “I… I thought you left the team. You hadn’t played in- in months, I- I-,” Morpheus knew that he was beginning to breathe too quickly, that his thoughts were spiralling, the tell-tale signs of a meltdown dancing just at the edge of his vision. He had never asked about his brother, not once since joining the team. He was an awful older brother, caring so little for his own family, for the person who had introduced him to the sport which had since taken over his life.God, he still remembered afternoons spent on the clearing behind the estate, a goal marked by stones and a ball stolen from their neighbours the only equipment they had. They would train for hours, sometimes deep into the night, every minute spent laughing with a carefreeness they had never felt at home. But then, Olethros had simply… gone. No goodbye, not even a note or letter. The first time he had seen him again was in his first year playing for Fawney Rig, where his brother had parried every single one of his shots on the Fiddlers goal. In all the years afterward, in all the games they played against each other, they had not exchanged a single word. And now, there was just one thing Morpheus wanted to say to his brother, something he should have said years ago but hadn’t out of stubbornness and unfounded anger. “I missed you, little brother.” His words caught on a sob as he stood and threw himself into Olethros’ arms, caring not for his tears, but only that his brother knew. And Olethros hugged him back with his free arm, holding him close in a way that sent Morpheus right back to his childhood, to nights huddled together in a blanket fort when their parents had been fighting. His little brother shouldn’t have had to take care of them all, protect them each time their parents’ fury had turned against them, but he always had, until that fateful day. Morpheus understood now that his brother had done the right thing, to leave and protect himself for once in his life and find people who would help him. “And I you, Oneiros,” Hearing the words spoken aloud lifted a weight from Morpheus’ shoulders that he hadn’t known he’d been carrying, the relief of it forcing more tears down his cheeks. “And I’m sorry, my brother.”Morpheus had to blink at the words for a moment, not sure what they were supposed to mean. “What for?”His brother sighed and took a step back from him so they could make eye-contact, his free hand moving from his back to his shoulder, squeezing once. “I am sorry for not noticing sooner that you needed help.”For a moment, everything stood still. Olethros knew about Roderick. But he hadn’t been with the team for months, certainly not since Morpheus had joined them, and there were few people even here who he had told all of it. Actually, there was just one. And suddenly, a lot of things came into perspective. “One moment,” he said to his brother before turning around to Hob, who was currently hiding behind Cori and peeking slightly over his shoulder. “That was why you were so nervous today? Because you were… conspiring to reconnect me with my brother?” His best friend winced at that, as if the very idea of conspiring against him in any way physically hurt him, and Morpheus was almost inclined to believe that was the case with how much time Hob had spent pacing his living room this evening. At least it had been quite painful to watch. “It was rather intended as a risky surprise, I’d say! After all I knew from Olly how close the two of you have been back then and how much he wanted to finally reconcile with you and when I figured out why you have been ignoring him for all those years I couldn’t have simply not told him and I guess I just… I just wanted you two to get along again. I’m sorry, Dream.” Hob deflated a little after his nervous rant, the expression on his face so genuinely troubled Morpheus just wanted to pull him into a hug. “You are an idiot, Kollitós.” he answered instead, his voice soft, and Hob immediately perked up upon hearing the nickname, a smile spreading over his lips. “Your idiot?”Morpheus hummed in agreement and turned back around to his brother, who looked amused at their banter, the smile on his lips matching Hob’s. “Hobert told me that the two of you have grown close, but I’ll admit that it’s slightly perplexing to witness myself.” Morpheus tried and failed to keep from snorting at the ridiculousness of Hobert, somehow an even worse nickname than Hob was on its own, but nothing could have prepared him for Cori’s answering whine behind him. “Be glad you missed these past months, Lily, they’re absolutely disgusting together.”Lily. Morpheus couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him, completely unhindered, at the sheer stupidity of his friends. How in the world they kept coming up with these names was beyond him. Though, perhaps, at least Dream made a little more sense if Olethros had continued calling him Oneiros over the years. Lily, on the other hand, was just a ridiculous nickname for his brother. After all, Olethros had never been particularly feminine. Not like him. And while Morpheus’ thoughts were on femininity, he realised that he had completely forgotten to address the metaphorical elephant in the room. “What’s her name?”Olethros raised an eyebrow in question at the sudden change of topic, and Morpheus couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Surely it was quite obvious who he was talking about.“My niece, brother. What is her name?”A hand reached for his from behind him then, warm and familiar, with callouses and scars he could tell by heart. Morpheus was not quite sure why Hob felt the need to do so now, but he would never refuse one of his friend’s offers of comfort. “We call her Lily, too,” Olethros began, and his voice wavered slightly. “But her name is Delilah.” Suddenly, Hob’s hand in his made a lot of sense, and Morpheus was immensely thankful for it. “We wanted to keep her memory alive, even if our parents tried their hardest to achieve the opposite. Del deserves to be remembered.”Morpheus nodded as tears gathered in his eyes, the emotions of having a piece of his baby sister again after all those years, even if it was just an old name on a new person, threatening to overwhelm him. But there was Hob’s hand in his, grounding him, and there were years of grief and months of therapy behind him, reminding him that those emotions did not have to overtake him. And so he took a deep breath, allowed the waves of grief tearing at his heart to lap at him for a moment, but then let them go again, just like the sea let go of the beach after a moments’ embrace. Then he smiled up at his brother, letting go of Hob’s hand, and held out his arm towards little Lily. “Come on, let me hold my niece. And sit down, I’m sure we can squeeze you in next to John…”