25. Russell paused mid-hum, glancing at Ted with a smirk

Russell paused mid-hum, glancing at Ted with a smirk. "You’ve been hiding that guitar all this time? And here I was thinking this was just a sanctuary for books and scribbled notes."

Ted grinned as he adjusted the strings. "The guitar keeps me sane when the notes on paper start looking like hieroglyphs. Let’s hear it—Mountain mama, right?"

Russell chuckled and continued humming, this time louder and more deliberate, as Ted found the chords. The soft strumming filled the room, a melodic undercurrent weaving through the mess of papers and ideas.

"You’ve got a good ear for this," Russell said, tapping his foot in rhythm. "Who knew you could multitask like this—planning a whole linguistic revolution while channeling John Denver?"

Ted laughed, shaking his head. "Trust me, sometimes it feels like I’m juggling the stars and dropping half of them. But music... it’s grounding, you know? It reminds me there’s still beauty outside of all this chaos."

Russell tossed another crumpled note into the trash, his movements syncing with the beat. "You’ve got your universe to build, and I’ve got my little corner to clean. But I have to admit, your chaos has its own rhythm. Like an uncharted galaxy trying to find its harmony."

Ted glanced up from the guitar, his fingers still strumming. "That’s poetic, Russell. I didn’t know you had it in you."

"Well," Russell said, leaning back and pretending to polish his nails, "spend enough time around you, and some of that creative genius is bound to rub off."

The two of them laughed, the tension of the day loosening with each chord and lyric. Russell’s cleaning slowed as he leaned against the desk, watching Ted lose himself in the music. The strumming grew softer, more contemplative, until it faded entirely.

"Thanks for this," Ted said, his voice quieter now. "For being here. For the coffee. For just... being Russell."

Russell shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "What are brothers for? Besides, I kind of like being part of your constellation, even if I’m just a flickering star on the edge."

Ted tilted his head, his gaze steady. "You’re more central than you think. Every star matters when you’re trying to light up the universe."

For a moment, they sat in silence, the warmth of the music lingering in the air. Then Russell clapped his hands together, breaking the stillness. "Right, enough of this sentimental stuff. Let’s get this place looking like a workspace, not a stable."

Ted picked up his guitar again, strumming a lively tune. "You clean, I play. Deal?"

"Deal," Russell said, grabbing a fresh trash bag. And so they worked, the music and laughter weaving a harmony that carried them through the night, a small but meaningful step in Ted’s ever-expanding universe.