SURFACE PRESSURE.

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STARCROSSED (book one).
°• CHAPTER THIRTEEN •°

" I'VE DONE THINGS.
REALLY, REALLY, REALLY
MESSED UP THINGS. "

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SPORTS WERE NEVER ONE OF ELIJAH'S FAVORITE THINGS. A long time ago, Steve tried to make him a little interested in the topic the same way he tried to force information about the stars and constellations on Steve just simply because they were close, and they wanted the other to understand the same interests they had. There was no better way to dig into the depths of friends. So they would both pretend. Steve would listen with starry, brown eyes as he listened to stories about galaxies and constellations. Elijah acted like the numbers on the board of a sports game mattered, but he secretly loved the way his adrenaline skyrocketed every time he dribbled a basketball down a court.

It was sweet. Elijah treasured memories like that. He still isn't a fan of sports, not like Steve was, but he would try to be. For him. And he knew how deeply the feeling flowed when Steve was silent, hanging onto every word when they were sprawled on their backs watching the stars around them glimmer. Elijah sometimes wondered what would go on through his head as he spoke. He'd give anything to have known his thoughts in those moments. Other days he wondered if he wanted to know.

However, Gym was still Elijah's least favorite class of the day. While Science was at the top of the list, P.E. was located on the bottom. It doesn't help that his head was clouded with what happened that morning when he woke up with a small pang in the back of his head, pressed into Steve's chest. He's glad he wasn't shitfaced and could remember what occurred the night before.

The sun peeking through the curtains nearly blinded Elijah. He squinted and tilted his head against the pillows once he realized just how close he was to the other boy in his bed. Steve was still snoring softly, fast asleep, and blissfully unaware that he was being stared at. His heart started hammering at the sight so hard it almost hurts. It's been too long since they've done something like this. Elijah didn't know just how badly he missed it until it was here. But that didn't mean it was okay.

While the bed was warm and inviting, Elijah fought off the urge to stay and curl closer. He rolled away and planted his feet on the floor instead. It'd be nice to sleep past breakfast, here, where he finally felt well-rested for the first time in such a long time. It was like he said - he missed this. Elijah took a deep breath, fought against what he wanted the most, and slapped Steve's shoulder, startling him. "Hey, Harrington. Wake up," he demands.

Steve had started to stir. He gave a long stretch accompanied by a wide yawn that reminded Elijah of a kitten from the way he palms at the pillow, his back curving against the mattress pad. It was sort of cute. "Hi. Morning," Steve greeted, oblivious to Elijah's stance or the way he spoke. He just sighed and stared at the ceiling. He groaned as if a horrible memory hit him. "Man, last night was shit... Hey, when did you put these up? Are they glow-in-the-dark stars?"

"Yeah." Elijah ripped open his curtain to keep himself occupied and ignored Steve's wince as the sun shone through. "I really think you should go, Steve."

"Why?" Elijah hated the way Steve's forehead creased. He was so lost. "I thought we were, you know, friends - "

"I tolerate you, shit for brains. Here." Elijah denied everything and tossed Steve's black, denim jacket with such force it almost smacked him in the face. He tried to leave without looking back despite all of his best efforts. It was time for school anyway and he'd see Steve for their first period class.

Some things they just couldn't let go of. Elijah can't stop putting all his efforts into the sport even when he doesn't want to the same way Steve questioned the plastic stars despite being genuine. It's like his instinct to do way better for approval had taken over. It's something he carried for a long time that stemmed from his childhood.

All Elijah aimed for was approval from anyone he admired. He'd give anything, including sleepless nights, fake happiness, just to make his father or sister smile. And Steve? There wasn't a question. All Elijah wanted was his admiration. Hell, he nearly broke an arm climbing a tree just because the other dared him to do it. Elijah poured his heart into everything he did up until he was completely empty.

If he couldn't carry everything, everyone, then who was he?

So it hurts like hell when Billy Hargrove, the new resident asshole from California, purposely smacks straight into Elijah. The careless movement sends him bouncing off of the hard gymnasium floor - painfully. He releases a cry that's more surprise than pain while Billy gives a victorious laugh that echoes off the walls. Elijah, who's still well-wounded from Shane Lewis's beatdown, tries to fight off the ache, refusing to even tear up. He will not give another asshole that satisfaction.

His skin still throbs, but Elijah pushes himself to his feet. He prays his knees don't look like they're wobbling with the shorts he wore as he thrusts himself back into the game. Beads of sweat were glistening across the bruises and soaking through the gray Hawkins High t-shirt he was wearing. Elijah's a tad grateful that the teacher didn't put him on Team Skins otherwise everything would've been put on like a show. He was probably annoyed enough that Billy was showing off enough to just have an excuse to rip his shirt off.

The orange basketball is suddenly passed to Steve and he bounces it a few times, crossing the gym. He comes to a pit stop when Billy starts agitating him from the opposite side, hopping on his feet. He refuses to let him pass to reach the other hoop. Elijah can just barely hear their words exchanged while Steve bounces the ball between his curved leg and spun, only for Billy to press against his back.

It's a pathetic little fight more for dominance than for the ball. "Harrington, right? I heard you used to run this school. That true?" Billy challenges. "King Steve, they used to call you." A pair of eyes underneath a scarred eyebrow flickered for a brief second to Elijah before back to Steve. "Then you turned bitch."

"Hey, maybe you should just shut up and play the game," Steve snaps.

Whatever Billy was doing, it was working. Steve was caught off guard and gave him the opening he needed to thrust an arm in front of him, effectively knocking him off his feet. Steve slid against the slick ground as Billy raced towards the opposite hoop and leaped, bending a leg at an angle to swipe the ball underneath and toss it with a final score.

It all happens in a second, but Elijah had hung back instead of stopping him like the rest of his team. He's more worried about the hit Steve took. It looked as if it equally hurt like his own. "Hey, are you okay?" Elijah asks, the question spilling before he can think about it.

Friends check up on each other. But that's what they were, right? They had to be. Because of Jonathan, Nancy, what they all knew, and what they all shared. It wasn't just out of convenience anymore as much as Elijah hated to swallow that heavy pill.

The only other thing Elijah hates more is Tommy, who practically screams, "Woo! That's what I'm talking about!" And claps Billy on the back like the suck-up he is.

"Yeah," Steve mumbles under the cheering that eggs Billy on and runs a hand through his damp hair. Billy is eyeing Elijah and Steve weirdly, broadening his chest, and flicking his tongue back and forth across his lower lip. It's so cocky that Elijah scowls back, flexing his fingers and imagining punching the smirk off his face. "He's such an asshole," Steve finishes.

Elijah's lips part to speak. But he's a second too late when someone beats him to it. The voice carries throughout the gym, sounding very female but very pissed off with a single name. "Steve?!"

The pair turn together. Nancy Wheeler stands at the entrance, clutching a book in one hand and her school bag in the other. She's demanding to speak to Steve without even making the order who eventually takes off towards her. Elijah, after seeing how Nancy can handle a firearm on her own, spends a moment to silently be thankful he's not Steve. But because he's still close friends with the girl, he tosses his hand in the air and waves towards her.

Elijah doesn't take it personally when all Nancy gives him is a small, tight smile in return. At least she acknowledges it. She's furious about something and he respects that, doesn't take it personally. It's seemingly directed at Steve anyways.

Once Steve is gone and the game continues on despite the one missing player, Elijah turns, prepared to throw himself in again - even if he doesn't give it his all this time - but almost smacks directly into Billy Hargrove. His features immediately fell into the same glare while the other keeps staring, amusement flickering in his eyes. Elijah feels a sudden, thundering urge to wipe the confidence off of him using his fists.

"What the fuck do you want?" Elijah spat as the game roars on around them. "Whip it out if you want to dick measure, baby, otherwise - fuck off."

Whatever Elijah meant to happen, it works. Billy's sarcastic grin fell when he realizes the guy he wants to feel tiny, small, isn't going to allow him to force him to feel puny. He knows the type of guy that he is. Elijah would rather let his skull break from bouncing off the gymnasium floor and bleed to death then and there before he lets that happen.

Strands of hair soaked from sweat dangle dangerously close to Elijah who scoffs when Billy leans close and whispers in his ear. "You should be careful how you talk to me... Bruises like that? You didn't deserve them." His voice somehow gets quieter and much more threatening. Elijah feels colder between the pauses in his words. "Someone like you deserved so. Much. Worse."

Elijah can barely blink before Billy whirls around him and takes off towards the ball again on a whole other streak of adrenaline. Like threatening Elijah made him feel that much more powerful. He watches for a moment like he was hit with a wave of dizziness from being so caught off guard. Who admits to someone they would do something so horrible without any shame? He keeps forgetting that people like that exist. Cruel people who believed because Elijah wasn't white, because he happened to fall in love with males instead of females, that he deserved a beating so badly he wouldn't be able to stand back up from it.

Falling seven times and standing up eight was usually a common thing for Elijah. He could take a hit like no other and still find the strength to stand up, fight back. But who's to say he could do so again if someone put him six feet under?

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If Gym was Elijah's least favorite class, anything including Science was his favorite. There was something about labwork especially that didn't make him want to rip his hair out. So it breaks his heart and sucks majorly that he is already leaving school early to catch an appointment with Nevaeh at Hawkins Lab, missing his favorite time of the day. Elijah feels as if he earned the smoke he has in the car especially with how shitty his day already was. He can't get his mind off of what Billy said to him. He's hoping a therapy session will relieve some of that weight under the surface.

It wasn't Elijah's first time visiting the Lab. He did so multiple times after Nevaeh was admitted for help to maintain her addiction and abilities. They were hard memories, things he didn't like to remember. It broke his heart to see her curled on a creaky mattress, bags under her watery eyes that looked so deep they could've been bruises, begging her big brother to bring her home. Elijah cried harder every time he left. Leaving her there, the only place that could supply the proper help she needed, still shattered him. He was overjoyed when Nevaeh was finally cleared to go home under his watchful eye and proper care.

That already added further stress to Elijah's already rough life. No one told him how to properly love someone with an addiction. It wasn't like this kind of stuff came with an instruction manual. He found himself jumping every time Nevaeh scratched her nose or breathed funny, hating himself every time he jumped to the conclusion she was swallowing pills again. He couldn't help it. Elijah thought every word out of her mouth was just another lie. She was trying to busy herself with schoolwork, so he never mentioned this. It'd make him seem like an asshole when Nevaeh was doing her best.

And she was doing pretty damn good.

Elijah was also incredibly proud of her at the same time. She was doing more than just surviving, she was recovering. She was doing great at keeping up with her appointments at the Lab where he was going to meet her after his own. Doctor Owens was nice enough to give extra time to the eldest Wolfhart sibling when Nevaeh told him they believed there was something mentally wrong with him, too. Given the trauma Elijah experienced, no one expected him to be mentally stable enough to handle it.

But there had to be something more. Elijah had mornings he couldn't get out of bed and then by the afternoon he was buzzing with adrenaline, bouncing off the walls. His temper was starting to get out of control. Hell, Elijah had nearly crushed Nevaeh's skull in with a bat because he thought the Demogorgon was back.

That's what finally brought Elijah to a room strangely cold, white room, sat in a freezing mental chair, head lifting when the door creaks open. He's met Doctor Owens a handful of times. He's a nice older guy, always wearing a long white coat, carrying a clipboard, sometimes too interested in what Hawkins Lab had created, but not crazy about it like the Doctor before him. It's his job after all.

"Hello, Elijah." Doctor Owens kept the smile on his face as he shut the door and takes the seat across from his patient. "It's been a long time since you've been here. Nevaeh's told me she's doing well. I understand that extends at home too, I hope." He pauses. "But my understanding is you're not here to talk about that, as much as you care about her."

Elijah wordlessly stares at Doctor Owens. He squints when their eyes connect with an unsure glance. He finally understands what the doctor was thinking. "I haven't told anyone shit about what happened. I know what I was signing for on that document," he says firmly. Elijah doesn't want to leave any room for doubt. He sighs and presses the knuckles of each hand together. "This isn't... This isn't about that."

Doctor Owens stays quiet. His silence urges Elijah to continue.

"I've done things," he says softly. "Really, really, really messed up things." Elijah flexes his fingers before he outstretches them and flashes Doctor Owens the permanent scar on his palm. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about what it felt like when we... You know, cut these, since that night. I'm always afraid. I'm always so fucking afraid," Elijah whispers. "I don't know how else to make it stop."

"Nevaeh told me. About the incident," Doctor Owens tells Elijah quietly.

Tears burn in Elijah's eyes. He tries to blink them away, but his features pinch, giving away his true feelings. "I didn't mean to." His voice breaks. "I thought the noise was, was that thing. Some days I'm so terrified it'll come back. I swear, I - I didn't mean to - " Elijah sucks in a breath sharply before wiping furiously at his eyes. He didn't come here with the intention to cry, throwing his feelings up. He just wanted to know what the hell was wrong with him.

"And the other days? What about those?" Doctor Owens asks.

Elijah wipes away the last tear and swallows thickly. He clears his throat before replying, "Sometimes I'm bouncing off fucking walls, man. I'm always going. My friends, my family, they can hardly keep up with me. Other days they have to yank me out of bed. It doesn't even work some mornings. It's like I just... I just can't move. I crash. My brain is just so, so jumbled I don't know what to do."

A heavy, but small beat of silence follows like Doctor Owens was giving Elijah a chance to speak further. When he doesn't, the doctor says, "I'm sorry, Elijah. It can't be easy living like that. It's possible - "

"Don't tell me I'm like my mother." Elijah cut him off and his elbows hit the table as he buried his face into his hands. "Please don't tell me I'm like my mother."

The thought seemed so much more horrifying than a Demogorgon returning. Elijah Wolfhart grew up watching a mentally ill mother who would be so depressed she couldn't get out of bed to change her career ideas every hour. She was infamous in Hawkins for having run full force into a trailer with a vehicle because she was convinced someone was chasing her. That was merely one hallucination and compared to a few others, it was the worst. Elijah thought that'd be the final straw for her - she'd finally start taking those little green and white capsules again that helped her act normal. But that never happened. In fact, the Wolfhart family never saw Esme again.

Because a week after the fight he had with his mother about those capsules, the entire bottle of pills was in her stomach where she overdosed and died in a hotel far away from them.

Elijah can't bear the thought of the same thing happening to him. He loves Nevaeh, Tobia, Jonathan, Nancy... Everyone so God damn much. The thought of them finding his body destroys him. And he wants to live. He's quite literally stared death in the face before and wanted to survive another day. Elijah couldn't be like his mother. He just couldn't.

He would never leave his family alone. Not like she did to hers.

"You're not your mother, Elijah. That's not what I was going to say. You're you. I just... I believe what she had could've been passed onto you," Doctor Owens explains.

Elijah stares back, confused. "What do you mean?"

Doctor Owens flips through the paper attached to his clipboard. "It wasn't easy, but I was able to dig into some of your mother's personal medical records. Did your father ever talk about her mental health history?" He questions. Elijah shook his head. Tobia never uttered a word about his late wife and his kids never pushed the matter. Maybe they should have. "She was diagnosed with a form of manic depression in 1963. They held her under observation for as long as they could, but it wasn't until the '70s she was properly being medicated."

"Obviously it didn't work. She killed herself three years ago," Elijah snaps. His mouth clamps shut a second later when it processed how cold the words came off as. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

"It's okay." Doctor Owens is still smiling, reassuring. "These kinds of talks bring up a lot of bad memories. Elijah, it's not that the medicine didn't work. There weren't as many treatment options in your mother's time as there are now. This has to be caught early in life. Manic depression like this, doctors are still studying it, discovering proper ways to make it manageable while living your life. But it is inherited. That much we know."

Elijah swallows again. He's still struggling to wrap his messed-up mind around all this. It's been a long, long time since he poked at the wound grief left scarred. "So, what? I have to pop pills every day to feel normal?"

"I'm not going to prescribe you the same medicine as your mother had. Times have changed, and with your age, I believe lithium will be beneficial for you." Doctor Owens is already scribbling out the prescription. He pauses and glances at Elijah. "I know this isn't easy to swallow. It's a lot to take in. But every day, it'll get a little easier."

The sheet of paper is slid across the table-top to Elijah who stares back at it. A simple prescription was causing his world to crash further than it already was. Elijah still somehow finds the strength to agree with a weak, "Okay." And folds the paper, stuffing it in the pocket of his jacket. He's prepared to book it, but the man stops him.

"Elijah, it's not just the manic depression. I think it's possible you have Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder too," Doctor Owens suggests. "I'm also prescribing you an anti-anxiety drug. It'll help the panic you're feeling."

Elijah's eyebrows furrow as his forehead creases. "Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder?" He repeats. "I thought that only happens to, like, men in the military, navy, or some shit."

"It can happen to anyone after a traumatic event. Your brain is in survival mode, Elijah. Given what happened to you and your friends it's understandable."

It sucks that tears pool in Elijah's eyes again. Doctor Owens's words are reassuring and kind but still feel like a punch to the gut as if someone knocked the wind out of him. "If my friends went through the same thing, why aren't they getting help?" He hates the way his words become choked up. "What am I? Weak?"

He felt it. Elijah couldn't tell if he was weak, tired, or both.

"Of course not. It's okay to ask for help," Doctor Owens promises.

Elijah doesn't know how much he believes that. But he still leaves the private room with the prescription in his pocket, tears that freshly tread past the bruises on his cheek, and an itch for a cigarette instead of a pill that could solve all of his problems.

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author's note:

long time no see! it's been awhile since i've actually updated anything, not just starcrossed. but i missed you guys! and eli! sorry it's a bit of a shortish chapter but half of it wasn't a show plot so i mean -

i'll say again that i'm not a fan of billy. eli and him won't have some type of brotp because eli is everything billy & his mullet hates. but steve? that bond is growing stronger i promise!!

i've done a shit ton of research to portray elijah's bipolar right. even though i base some of his struggles off of my own, i was born in '99 and elijah was born in '66. two different times my friends. mental health has been growing and changing for a long time and considers to do so every day.

lastly encanto is such a beautiful and wonderful disney movie and i based this chapter off of surface pressure because i cried like a mf when i first listened to the song. older siblings trauma, unite!

i hope you guys love it and all, thank you for coming back to read again! ❤️

- koda

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