'TILL THE PARTY'S OVER.

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

"        I MISSED THIS.
I MISSED YOU.       "

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FEELINGS WERE IMPORTANT. Allow yourself to feel deeply. These were words Tobia Wolfhart had drilled into Elijah's head the very day he understood what it meant to feel something. I know many will tell you boys don't cry. Men aren't taught to express themselves, his father would say as he gently stroked curled fingers across his temple, stroking past his birthmark. Eli, it's not true. It's okay to cry. It's okay to be sad, son. I need you to let yourself feel. Somedays Elijah held these words a little too close to heart and allowed himself to feel as much as he possibly could.

Somedays Elijah didn't know if he was feeling everything all at once or nothing at all.

He supposes physical pain counted too. It was impossible not to feel the painful bruises that were beginning to freshly paint his torso. Lewis's gang did a number on Elijah. He holds the hem of his shirt close to his chest and carefully tilts his head down. It's a horrible sight. His bronze skin was colored with a dark, crimson red starting to tint in purple. The swelling was making it difficult to breathe. He made a note to press an ice pack on it later.

Elijah releases the cloth of his shirt and takes a look in the bathroom mirror. His face wasn't in any better shape. One of his eyes was already starting to swell shut, his jaw also bruised and swollen, his nose probably busted with a droplet of blood that trailed to his cut upper lip, and the tip of his tongue was tracing the inside of his shredded cheek. Elijah puckers his lips and spits into the porcelain sink.

The blood splatters and stands out against the bright color. Fuck you, Lewis, Elijah thinks as he fumbles through the medicine cabinet before shutting it and glaring at the reflection that stares back. Elijah loathes the broken boy he sees.

He wasn't afraid anymore like he was when he was curled on the concrete. Elijah was furious. He was beaten bloody, black and blue, and left there like some scum you find at the bottom of your shoe. And they did it just because he was gay. They assaulted a boy for no reason other than he happens to kiss the same gender.

It takes a while to clean himself up. Elijah pretends he can't see the tears left behind as he works on wiping off whatever blood he can see, applying the proper treatment to open wounds, and trying to clean himself up as best as he could. Elijah knows it's important to feel and embrace sorrow. But that's exactly why he can't let Nevaeh or Tobia see the extent of his injuries. It'd crush them. He had almost considered reporting the situation to Hopper, but one, Elijah still hates the police, two, his family would find out, and three, he doubts any drastic measures would be taken.

After all, Elijah the fag Wolfhart was a stain in Hawkins. Lewis was a golden boy with rich parents who bought him everything he wanted. He'd get away with it. The knowledge stings almost as bad as the wounds. Elijah can have the queer nearly beaten out of him and his attacker wouldn't be punished?

What did I do to deserve this? is the last question that crosses Elijah's mind, but it's more full of anguish than rage, when he hears the front door open and Nevaeh's voice calls out, "I'm home!"

Elijah quickly races to slam the bathroom door shut. He winces a second later when it's too loud. It echoed across the house, Nevaeh surely had heard it. His thoughts are confirmed when he hears his sister cautiously approach and knock on the wooden door. "Eli? Are you alright?"

"Just a minute!" Elijah calls back. He winces a second after at the way his throat burns. His hands start shaking as he tries to turn the water on, clean his face, and shove the stuff he used back in the cabinet all at once. Nevaeh would lose it if she saw him in this state. He curses when he drops a medicine bottle and it clatters loudly in the sink, soon wet under the stream of water he's using to try and clean the blood. Elijah flinches and braces himself as the door swung open.

"Holy shit!" Nevaeh exclaims and pushes her way inside. She shuts off the water and fights Elijah's arms away when they raise so she can get a better look. "Eli, what - what happened to you?" Elijah didn't answer. He can't even meet her eyes and locks his gaze on the linoleum bathroom floor. Nevaeh, her brown eyes full of how much she loved her big brother and how badly it hurt to see him in pain, is attempting to understand when she asks, "did Steve do this?"

Elijah almost laughs. He hasn't had a spat with Steve since he saw him slander his and Nancy's name on a theater promotion. Steve's been nothing but kind since. He's kept his promise to try and prove himself to be true. "No. It wasn't him," Elijah mumbles. He stares at the mirror again and considers punching the glass into shatters.

"Eli," Nevaeh is begging, "let me help you." When he doesn't answer this time, Nevaeh huffs and declares, "I'm calling Hopper - "

The words bring Elijah stress as he ran a hand through his knotted hair, defeated. "You can't help me!" Elijah exclaims. His words escalate into a hoarse shout that stops Nevaeh from leaving. "I'm just a stupid queer in a small town full of empty-headed morons! I'll consider it a lucky god damn life if it's not me that's killed just because - because I -"

Nevaeh is listening. She's hanging onto every word. "You're an idiot if you think that," she hisses. Elijah knows she's not mad at her. She's furious at what happened and sometimes that's what causes the Wolfhart siblings to take it out on one another. "Do you hear me?! An idiot! You don't deserve to get the crap kicked out of you! You'll get out of Hawkins, okay?! You have to - "

"Get out," Elijah demands. He refuses to listen to a rant about how he doesn't deserve this, that he should call Hopper, and Hawkins is too small for an incredible mind that could hold galaxies. A sudden, awful urge he wasn't used to desperately just wanted to be alone. "Get out, Nevaeh! I don't need your help!"

The siblings start to scuffle with each other as Nevaeh tries to keep herself planted and Elijah attempts to push her out. They shout, degrade the other with hurtful names they don't mean, hands scraping to gain the upper arm until all of the noise drags in their father. Tobia Wolfhart, who must have given Nevaeh the ride home and arrived a minute after she did, comes sprinting through the house when he hears his two eldest fighting.

They nearly miss his presence. "Hey, hey! You two - enough!" Tobia shouts. Their wrestling had led them into the hallway which gave their father enough space to pull his daughter away and plant himself in between, ever the mediator of the family. He still has the sense to know peace and quietness wasn't an option when a brother and sister were too close in age.

"Elijah Cole Wolfhart and Nevaeh Eryn Wolfhart!" Tobia practically booms when they still yell over him and scrabble to pass him.

The use of their full names with such velocity causes the pair to quiet. Tobia exhales. He still stands, sturdy, careful to not let either at each other again. "What has gotten into the two of you? What did I say about fighting?" Neither answers, but Tobia notices the state of his son's face when he turns his head. His face falls. "Eli, what - "

Elijah has reached the end of what he can take. He's tired, sore, miserable, and wants to fling himself on the mattress for an endless sleep. He explodes, "nothing happened!" Before using all of his force to shove Tobia and pass him. Elijah blocks out the world around him, the calls of his name, the aching in his chest that begs him to not be alone, and almost propels himself into his bedroom. The door slams shut behind him so loud that he swears the walls shake.

The boy who carried his heart on his sleeve covers up the stabbed, bleeding organ. It burns as Elijah sits on the corner of his bed, pulls a smashed cigarette out of his pocket, and cups the end of it to engulf it into a flame. The smoke that comes with the burn had never felt so good. A part of him, the one that bears so much pain, considers bringing the lit end to his skin and feeling it singe until the smell of burnt flesh would sting his nostrils.

Elijah desperately tries to push the thought out of his mind the same way he did when he intentionally sliced an open wound into his hand to with the others draw the Demogorgon to them. The scar from the blade was still there and he imagined it always would be. Elijah wondered if a cigarette burn would react the same to his skin.

His face was soaked before he knows it. Elijah is trembling so much he fears he'll drop the cigarette when he brings it to his lips one last time, inhales, and considers what the fuck is wrong with his mind instead of what the fuck was wrong with this world.

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Halloween quickly topped the list of Elijah's favorite holidays when he was a kid. The love he shared for it spread to Nevaeh, but it's been three years since they've last celebrated it together. He supposes this year wouldn't be any different when she glares at him over a bite of toast and spits with bread crumbs staining her lips, "Nice face."

Elijah had barely blinked at her as he unscrewed the cap to the carton of milk. "I could say the same about yours," he deadpanned before realizing letting everyone see a bruised and scarred expression probably wouldn't be the best idea for Halloween especially if he had plans with Jonathan after they watch over Will who would be trick or treating. That'd only lead to more questions and the insistence to report the assault to Hopper.

Fortunately, the holiday meant Elijah could easily cover the injury up. He went with the most simple idea he had: Jason Voorhees. He already had the hockey mask and it only took a few minutes to make it appear rusted instead of white. He didn't bother with a jumpsuit, choosing to stick with a normal fitting of denim pants and a jacket. Elijah stuck a note to the fridge that he was with Jonathan when he heard the rumble of his best friend's engine in his driveway before bolting out of the house.

"You did not," are the first words out of Jonathan's mouth when he sees Elijah through the rearview mirror. Will is giggling in the passenger seat, dressed in a Ghostbuster uniform himself. Jonathan leans into the backseat so he can try and rip Elijah's mask off. "You are so not wearing that - "

Elijah attempts to bat Jonathan's hand away. "Jonathan, it's Halloween - "

He's a second too late when Jonathan's fingers finally curl under the mask and yank it upward. It rests over Elijah's head as the bruises expose themselves. The red had nearly faded and was replaced with a deep, blossoming purple that splotches across his jawline until it reaches his swollen eye. "It looks worse than what it is," Elijah claims before either of the Byers boys could get a word out.

Will's laughs are cut off immediately and Jonathan's eyes widen once they both catch sight. "Who did this to you?" Jonathan demands. Elijah notices his hand clutch the steering wheel a tad tighter.

"No one. It's part of my Halloween look."

"Eli," comes Will's soft voice. Sarcastic jokes fade out of Elijah. He takes one look at him and knows he can't just lie. He knows the scared look etched into Will's features. He held it the same day he realized exactly what it meant every time his heart thudded too much being close to his best friend. It was a horrible feeling of fear when you were afraid of yourself, what you felt. And Elijah, who wants to spill, can't scare Will like that.

He keeps the mask on his head as if a sign he wasn't afraid anymore before hinting to Jonathan, "Hey, you don't want Will's friends wondering where he is. It's almost trick-or-treating time." Elijah's then glad quickly that Jonathan can practically read his mind. Perks of being best friends.

The term best friends used to remind Elijah of Steve. Of what they used to have. It was something special to him. Every time he remembers his past, there's Steve, in all of his memories. They were still in diapers and sucking thumbs when they were introduced. It's crazy to think how all that changed because Elijah was helplessly, foolishly, and deeply in love with him, and Steve was a closet case that thought only kissing could express what he felt.

Elijah soon realized after... Well, everything, that what he had with Steve hadn't ever been platonic while everything he had with Jonathan was. Love came in many forms. Elijah's grateful he's been able to feel them all.

One thing hadn't changed though and that was Elijah's distaste for kids. He still tries to smile at the sight of Will's group waiting outside of their designated spot, the Wheeler's house. He wondered if Nancy was inside, getting ready for Tina's Halloween bash or at Steve's. Mike was already leading Lucas and Dustin across his lawn when they see Jonathan's car come to a slow stop against the curb.

Elijah knows something was wrong the second he sees Jonathan's shoulders tense after he sticks the key into the ignition. "Hey, listen," he speaks up and catches Will's attention. "If I let you go on your own... You promise to stay in the neighborhood?"

A blinding smile spreads on Will's beaming face. Elijah's heart softens at the same time he feels a blast of anxiety about what Mrs. Byers would do when she found out Will didn't have supervision. "Yeah! Yeah, yeah, totally," Will eagerly agrees.

"And be back at Mike's by nine," Jonathan adds.

"Nine... Thirty?" Will bargains hopefully.

"Nine. Deal?"

The brothers shake hands as Will promises, "Deal."

Elijah leans forward so he can gently clasp Will's shoulder. "I'll talk him down to nine-thirty," he promises quietly when he turns to peer over the seat as if Jonathan wasn't in their earshot.

"Thanks, Eli," Will replies genuinely with an excited grin. He's practically jumping in joy to get out of the car when he pushes the door open.

The windshield gives them the perfect view of Mike and Lucas teaming up to swat at Dustin with their pillowcases. Jonathan sighs and passes Will the camera that was sitting on the console between them. "Hey, Will - don't let any of your spazzy friends use this, alright?" When Will agrees, Jonathan twists towards the still-open door and comments in a horrid Dracula accent, "I hope it doesn't suck."

Elijah waits until Will laughs, shuts the door, and takes off with his friends before deciding to take over the passenger seat. He's less mature about just simply opening the door and switching, opting to crawl in between instead. Jonathan laughs through a few protests that Elijah ignores as he tries to situation himself into his new seating without pulling a muscle or dislocating something.

"Listen, I'm just saying," Elijah begins as he finally plops into the cushion, "Let the poor kid have fun until nine-thirty. It's, like, a rule on Halloween - "

"What happened to your face?" Jonathan interrupts the second his eyes fall onto the mess once again.

He rolls his eyes. "I'd ask what happened to yours, but at least mine will heal - "

"Elijah."

The heavy use behind his name causes tension to flow through Elijah. He forces himself to look anywhere else but Jonathan's intense gaze, but staring at Will as he takes off causes him to feel so much worse. Being an optimistic kid made you blind to how cruel the world could be. Somedays Elijah forgets he is a kid at only seventeen, just without the optimism.

"The idiot my sister messed around with when she was, uh... Working through her... Problem." Elijah rubs his cheek. A burning feeling follows after the touch. "He knows the rumor about Steve. He saw me kiss you. He wasn't so happy."

"That doesn't give him a reason to hurt you," Jonathan states in disbelief. "Elijah, you should - "

Elijah glances away from the windshield to suddenly glare at Jonathan with fire in his eyes. "I am not going to Hopper."

The look he receives clearly says no shit. "I was going to say we can kick his ass," Jonathan finishes. Nothing that radiates from Jonathan hints at him not being serious. "I don't want you to... to pretend this never happened, you know? Or hide that part of yourself," he says gently as he drives past the Wheeler's. It's beyond Elijah how such a kindhearted guy who never believed using fists was the answer to problems actually beat the crap out of Steve Harrington and is offering to do something like that again because of how much he loved his best friend.

And Elijah knows revenge was an option. Probably a tempting one. It wouldn't be like Lewis didn't have it coming. But Elijah has fought monsters that were supposed to be worse than him. He didn't want to do it again. He shouldn't have to do it again. Elijah's bled enough. Doesn't he deserve a break?

"It's okay." Jonathan tries to smile and keep his eyes on the road at the same time. "You don't always have to be a fighter, Eli. It's okay to rest."

"Yeah?" Asks the one who has been fighting all of his life. Elijah scoffs. "How do I do that?"

A far away look glimmers in Jonathan's gaze and Elijah almost immediately hates it. His plans weren't always the best. "I mean, we could..."

When he shifts, a piece of paper crumbles in his pocket. Elijah's eyes dart to it and saw the color orange peeking out of it. His features drop into a scowl. "Don't you dare, Jonathan."

"It can't hurt to check it out," Jonathan defends. Elijah loathes the puppy-like features that appear. "Please, Eli? I can't go alone."

It sucks for Elijah Wolfhart that there's nothing he won't do for his friends.

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Jonathan's uncomfort is clearer than day when they make it to Tina's by the time the sun falls and night takes over. The party is already at full blast. Multiple people were scattered across the lawn in costumes, kissing, drinking out of red solo cups, laughing with one another, basically being the stereotypical obnoxious teenager when they're drunk. Elijah realizes how terrible he is at mingling as he follows Jonathan into the house. The mask over the top of his head is forgotten. It would've come in handy to cover the bruises on his face, he'd realize later.

"Looking for Nancy?" Elijah teases when Jonathan's eyes scan the crowd.

Jonathan's cheeks are pink when he retorts, "I don't know, Eli, are you looking for Steve?"

His taunt nearly brings Elijah to swing then and there, but a voice behind them stops them in their tracks. "Nice costume."

They turn in sync to see a girl with a black wig and pale makeup covering her face, lips painted in black lipstick, with glimmering jewelry dangling past her chest. Jonathan blinks out of his daze. "Huh?"

"Nice costume," she repeats and casts a nod to Elijah. "Though I like his better. Jason? Fucking gnarly."

"Oh." Jonathan gives her a small laugh. "Uh, yeah. I'm going as a guy who hates parties."

Elijah sighs. It was like Jonathan's never talked to anyone besides him. "Makes sense since you're a total dud."

The girl's painted raven lips twist into a smile before parting to reply, but a commotion a few feet away stops her. Elijah turns again to see Steve and Nancy are in the midst of it. She's clearly unsteady on her feet, every sway she makes obvious that she's already drunk. A splatter of pink from the solo cup she was clutching covers her white button-up. And Nancy's glaring directly at Steve like he had thrown the liquid at her.

"What the hell?!" She exclaims as the party ceases around them. Snickers arise when Nancy throws the cup onto the kitchen counter and storms off, Steve hot on her heels.

"Hey, will you be okay for a minute?" Elijah asks Jonathan with concern for his other two friends. He waits until Jonathan nods before taking off in the direction they went.

Nancy Wheeler became nearly as close to Elijah as Jonathan was. He worried about her. Barb's death struck something awful inside of Nancy and fighting the monster that later took the little girl with it, Eleven, had truly messed with her. They were each other's rocks, anchors that could hold one another grounded when it seemed like they were floating into the abyss of nothing. But if Nancy shut down, if she didn't want to be found, Elijah realized after searching from room to room - then there was no finding Nancy Wheeler.

One person Elijah does find, however, is Shane Lewis. He's by the punch bowl without a costume, but blown pupils and red-rimmed eyes clear under the kitchen light. It's clear that drinking hasn't been the only thing Lewis has been doing tonight.

He still has the nerve to comment the second he sees Elijah attempting to take another route, "Woah, Wolfhart, you leaving so soon?" He grins, sharp teeth baring in Elijah's direction. "Afraid of... Oh, I don't know - round two?"

Elijah's shoes feel like cement as he slowly dragged them closer to Lewis across the linoleum floor. "I'm not afraid of you," he declares because he isn't. He's seen real monsters. Hell, he's fought them. Elijah slowly inhales so deep that his nostrils burn. It took all of his strength to hold himself back. Every inch of him wanted Lewis to feel as helpless as he did, to be curled on the ground, crying, terrified.

But Elijah was so, so much better than him.

"I'm not going to fight you. I'm not going to come after you for... For some sort of revenge, okay?" Elijah stands across from him on the other side of the counter. He's nearly shaking. "Because that is how much you mean to me." His voice drops, low and dark. "I can't even hate you because you're nothing. You're a fucking waste of air. And one day when you've finally accepted so... It'll be too late. You'll be drunk in the alley of a bar, choking on your vomit, and fading away until no one remembers your name."

It's funny how Elijah spoke with such coldness that hell could freeze over and yet, the party continues around them.

Lewis is at a loss for words. Elijah has a hunch not only do his words scare him but stun him into silence. At least he'd finally shut up for once. "Oh," Elijah speaks up as he grabs a solo cup and sticks it into the punch bowl, dragging it across the cold steam until it's nearly full. "And go fuck yourself."

He flashes him the middle finger with his free hand before tipping the rim of the cup into his mouth. The liquid burns as it dances across his tastebuds and meets the back of his throat. He's grateful it's not so bad that he doesn't choke. It actually has a bit of a sweet taste and it calms the razor stars slicing their way through Elijah's veins. He knows he can't find Nancy and can't help her. But he could help himself in some messed up way.

It takes close to an hour before Elijah's actually shitfaced.

He's outside when he finally catches sight of Jonathan. The music was too loud for the way that Elijah's eardrums felt as if they'd burst. The walls seemed as if they were trembling because of his blurred vision that brought a small sway. Even the lights were too bright and he's grateful the night sky, the cool air that kisses his warm skin. That's what Elijah hates. It all reminded him of Tommy and Carol's party, the blast that started their junior year. The party that ruined his life.

"Jonathan?" Elijah announces his presence. Nancy is barely conscious and propped against his best friend's arm. He's hit with a wave of love for them both. He's a tad tipsy, but not stupid when he utters, "You're my best friend in the whole world. My best friend. And you're good, you know that?" Elijah insists with a wide, dopey smile. "You're the best, Jonathan - "

"You're drunk," Jonathan deadpans.

"And you're the best."

The other sighs. Jonathan is silently grateful that Elijah isn't blackout drunk like Nancy was, just buzzed enough to tell him how much he loves him, but still wasn't sober and therefore unable to drive. "Yeah, yeah. Sure." Jonathan flicks the plastic mask over Elijah's head. "We're gonna drop off Nancy then go pick up Will, okay?"

Elijah is suddenly beaming because he can't stand children, but Will, he's like another younger sibling. Not that he'd ever say so out loud but his friends could be okay. Sometimes. It's not like he's ever going to adopt them.

He's happily stepping over Jonathan's footprints in the soil, following him to the parked car a few feet away, when Elijah hears his nickname being called. He stops against Jonathan's protest and peers over his shoulder before exclaiming, "Steve!"

"Eli?" Steve repeats. His brown eyes scan him in concern. "You okay?"

"He's barely drunk." Jonathan answers for him but refuses to meet Steve's eyes as he opens the car door and helps Nancy inside. "I wasn't going to leave them alone. I'll take them home."

"You said you had to pick up Will," Steve says. Elijah notices his forehead creased and longed to smooth the skin out with the pad of his thumb.

The thought that appears isn't shoved out of Elijah's head as soon as it appears like it usually was. That was thanks to the foggy feeling in his mind. He's too busy staring at Steve like he plucked the stars out of the sky and placed them into Elijah's heartfelt gaze despite the quiet, arguing words he was sharing with Jonathan. It causes his heart to skip a few beats and his stomach to churn. Elijah doesn't know if it's because he's drunk or lovestruck.

"It's okay," Steve insists. "I know where Eli lives. I can bring him home."

Jonathan scoffs. "Fat chance."

It's a pissing contest, Elijah thinks. Over him. Because Jonathan cares about him and would never do to him what Steve had. He doesn't trust him to take care of his best friend.

"It's okay," Elijah repeats Steve. He smiles again at Jonathan and walks closer to press his nose into his shoulder affectionately. "I trust him. You have to pick up Will, okay? Tell him I said hi." He can feel Jonathan relax under his touch. "Happy Halloween. I love you, Jonathan."

A gaze of distrust flickers from Steve to Elijah. Jonathan considers his options, sighs, and kisses Elijah's temple. His lips brush past the birthmark. "I love you too," he says before ordering, "Call me tomorrow morning." Jonathan waits until Elijah pulls away to follow Steve and then calls, "Take care of him."

He receives a nod that looks like a promise.

The car ride to the Wolfhart house is surprisingly quiet, to say the least. Elijah doesn't utter a word despite being a blabbermouth full of I love you's prior. The bumps under the vehicle make him feel uneasy and it's the chilly window he keeps his forehead pressed upon that keeps him calm. Elijah is still smiling, though, when he mumbles, "We have to be quiet. I don't want Nevaeh to see me like this." Because he feared she'd think it was okay. He was terrified she'd relapse.

"You got it," Steve promises again as he parks in Elijah's driveway and shuts off the engine.

The pair are both grateful Elijah can walk without falling flat on his face. It makes things much easier. They can be quiet so they don't wake Nevaeh, or Tobia for that matter, and he won't vomit everything he consumed. Elijah's not hit with nausea but a shot of exhaustion when he reaches his bed and falls over the covers, head barely hitting his target of pillows.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Elijah asks. Steve glances from where he's tugged a blanket out from underneath Elijah's legs and nods. "I don't think your hair is stupid. I really love it."

"Good," Steve replies with a short laugh. Elijah can almost immediately tell it's forced. Something was wrong - something happened. And the hunch of Steve's shoulder, the sad look in his eyes, he'd spill it out if he could. He'd do so much more if he could.

Instead, Elijah gently pats the open spot on the mattress next to him. Steve hesitates for a minute, but it feels much more like an hour. It almost stung. Elijah tasted something sour and awful, and he opens his mouth to tell Steve he's sorry despite having no reason to apologize, but then Steve kicks his shoes off. Elijah doesn't grin, but he smiles and scoots to make more room when he lays beside him.

"I'm too tired to drive," is Steve's excuse. Elijah's too busy smiling to care.

The blanket is yanked over them both. It wasn't the first time they'd slept in a bed together. Having been friends since they were toddlers, their parents often had them sleep together. They'd pass out on a mattress or squeeze into a sleeping bag and curl next to one another. After having so many sleepovers together, Elijah found it difficult to sleep without a warm body next to him. The new additional trauma didn't help.

Finding a way to fill that hurt when Steve left came in the form of purchased glow-in-the-dark stares that Elijah stuck to his ceiling. The light hasn't become dull and thanks to the curtain being drawn to keep the moon from shining through, a soft green light beams above them. Elijah faintly remembers when Nevaeh reminded him how he used to insist the stars held stories. He wondered if what he felt for Steve was made in these ones or the ones hanging in the sky.

"I missed this," Elijah whispers. "I missed you."

Steve shifts closer at those words. Elijah takes this as an invitation to close the space between them. He longs to continue what they never finished years ago, but he opts to wrap one arm around the dip in Steve's hip and bury his head close to his sternum. He sighs in relief when their legs tangled together and a hand cradles the back of his head, fingers slowly stroking through the raven strands.

Elijah Wolfhart hadn't slept as well as he did in a long, long time.

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author's note:

oof. long chapter back at it again.

this is dedicated to the fact i just watched the first friday the 13th movie. i originally planned for eli to be a zombie for the halloween bash but decided against it literally the last minute. i thought it'd be cool this way too.

ALSO: i've recently rewatched the twilight series and remembered how kiowa gordon looked when he played embry and just *chefs kiss*

who else would love long haired elijah flashbacks if i wasn't too lazy to write them

anyways the end scene of eli & steve made me tear up because i love them so much and i love his broship with jonathan ❤️ the title of the chapter was inspired by wish you were sober by conan gray cause steve wanted to smooch him but knew he shouldn't cause eli was tipsy. respectful boyfriend thingz

anyway thank you for reading!! if i don't see you guys in another update soon in my other works have a happy halloween!

- koda

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