[Elijah gets pulled into Kavinsky's pack of dogs because he has nowhere else to go. Or well, nowhere else that he wants to go, at least. Because when he snarled at Kavinsky, all bared teeth and sharp eyes, he'd grinned. Not like he was mocking him, but like he could put up with him, like he didn't find him off-putting. Elijah moves through the world like he's ready to fight the whole room, which tends to make him a loner by default, but K doesn't seem to mind.
And slowly, it turns out that he doesn't have to be. Kavinsky can put up with him at his worst, and slowly Eli learns to let down his walls a little bit. Enough to show that there's good to go with it, too. That he isn't all anger, even if he's got it in spades. He gels with Skov and Jiang, and he likes Swan too. Proko- is strange. He doesn't know how he feels about him. Like they're sort of the same, somehow. He thinks he'd die for him. K and his boys are the only friends he needs, as far as he's concerned.
He loves cars, his family, and- maybe Kavinsky and his boys. They all seem to be made of the same stuff, in one way or another.
There's a shadow to him, something he doesn't talk about, but everyone has secrets, trauma. He races with them, shows up at K's parties, drinks and gets high with them, and that seems to be what matters.
One night, Eli puts someone on their ass for getting in K's face. Not really a fight- he just hauls the guy backwards and hits their knee so they tumble to the ground, sputtering in fury. He calls Eli just another one of K's dogs, and the dark-haired boy grins, wild and almost manic, green eyes glittering by the light of the bonfire.
Do you really think that's a fucking insult?
So of course Elijah ends up as part of the pack. It had felt almost inevitable. But, he doesn't sleep around them often, always wakes in a panic when he does. He'll stay over a couple nights, but he usually stays up, whether that's watching bootleg Saudi racing videos, or flirting, or just pressed up close to someone's side just for the proximity, the contact. But he usually ducks out before that can go far enough to really be called making out.
It's been a couple months. Long enough that he's close with the other boys, but not so close they've all spilled their heart veins, that they know each others' secrets and worst truths. Tonight he lets himself be talked into trying one of K's pills, not quite knowing what to expect from this one. It's just the boys at K's house, ostensibly there to watch movies, but Eli ends up in his bedroom as he places the pill on his tongue. It seems safe, even if he knows better than most what a fucking lie that is. But it's an easy high, soft and syrupy. He drifts, nuzzling into his side. K says something that he doesn't quite catch- probably checking Skov doesn't set the kitchen on fire- and he falls into sleep before he comes back.
But he's there at his side, next to him in his bed, when it all goes to shit.
Maybe K can tell the difference. The way that it's less like Elijah brings them back with him, and almost more like things fall out of his dreams. It sets Kavinsky's comforter on fire, along with the clothes Eli had been wearing. A pair of creatures of all wrong angles, shifting features that obeyed dream logic, not waking logic. It was all shadow and flame, turning the air to ashes. K goes for his gun, and Elijah is halfway through you can't-- because only dreams can kill a dream, when K puts a bullet through its face and it starts to crumble.
Eli had managed to peel himself out of his clothes before they burned him, so he's down to his boxers when he draws a sword from the air. After a brief scuffle he shoves it into the other one, accidentally up-ending Kavinsky's bedside table in the process. There's blood and strange bodies that even in death don't fit in the waking world- but then it's just blood and ashes. And if Kavinsky is paying attention, he might catch the moment when the sword climbs back onto Elijah's skin. Ink that trails up his fingers, curling around his wrist again, and slowly spelling out Latin words in a line up his arm that means: I will find a way or I will make one.
But standing there in plaid boxers and nothing else, it's hard to miss the scars on his chest. Surgery scars- around his nipples and the bottom edge of where they redefined his chest. They're healing well, but still recent- the scars are pink, rather than faded silver. His breathing is rough with the adrenaline, and he wants to ask ... there's so many things he wants to ask. But instead his shoulders curl in, and he deflates in a way he hasn't before, that seems like more than the dreams. Something in his body language, in how he looks at Kavinsky changes.]
Do you.. have a shirt I can borrow?
[He imagines the other boys will probably be checking in on K in a moment, and he doesn't want them to see him like this. He should ask about the gun, about the fact that K killed a dream like he'd done it before, but the terror clawing in his heart feels more pressing- that the only boys he'd thought of as his friends won't see him for who he is.]
dreamer in the dream pack
And slowly, it turns out that he doesn't have to be. Kavinsky can put up with him at his worst, and slowly Eli learns to let down his walls a little bit. Enough to show that there's good to go with it, too. That he isn't all anger, even if he's got it in spades. He gels with Skov and Jiang, and he likes Swan too. Proko- is strange. He doesn't know how he feels about him. Like they're sort of the same, somehow. He thinks he'd die for him. K and his boys are the only friends he needs, as far as he's concerned.
He loves cars, his family, and- maybe Kavinsky and his boys. They all seem to be made of the same stuff, in one way or another.
There's a shadow to him, something he doesn't talk about, but everyone has secrets, trauma. He races with them, shows up at K's parties, drinks and gets high with them, and that seems to be what matters.
One night, Eli puts someone on their ass for getting in K's face. Not really a fight- he just hauls the guy backwards and hits their knee so they tumble to the ground, sputtering in fury. He calls Eli just another one of K's dogs, and the dark-haired boy grins, wild and almost manic, green eyes glittering by the light of the bonfire.
Do you really think that's a fucking insult?
So of course Elijah ends up as part of the pack. It had felt almost inevitable. But, he doesn't sleep around them often, always wakes in a panic when he does. He'll stay over a couple nights, but he usually stays up, whether that's watching bootleg Saudi racing videos, or flirting, or just pressed up close to someone's side just for the proximity, the contact. But he usually ducks out before that can go far enough to really be called making out.
It's been a couple months. Long enough that he's close with the other boys, but not so close they've all spilled their heart veins, that they know each others' secrets and worst truths. Tonight he lets himself be talked into trying one of K's pills, not quite knowing what to expect from this one. It's just the boys at K's house, ostensibly there to watch movies, but Eli ends up in his bedroom as he places the pill on his tongue. It seems safe, even if he knows better than most what a fucking lie that is. But it's an easy high, soft and syrupy. He drifts, nuzzling into his side. K says something that he doesn't quite catch- probably checking Skov doesn't set the kitchen on fire- and he falls into sleep before he comes back.
But he's there at his side, next to him in his bed, when it all goes to shit.
Maybe K can tell the difference. The way that it's less like Elijah brings them back with him, and almost more like things fall out of his dreams. It sets Kavinsky's comforter on fire, along with the clothes Eli had been wearing. A pair of creatures of all wrong angles, shifting features that obeyed dream logic, not waking logic. It was all shadow and flame, turning the air to ashes. K goes for his gun, and Elijah is halfway through you can't-- because only dreams can kill a dream, when K puts a bullet through its face and it starts to crumble.
Eli had managed to peel himself out of his clothes before they burned him, so he's down to his boxers when he draws a sword from the air. After a brief scuffle he shoves it into the other one, accidentally up-ending Kavinsky's bedside table in the process. There's blood and strange bodies that even in death don't fit in the waking world- but then it's just blood and ashes. And if Kavinsky is paying attention, he might catch the moment when the sword climbs back onto Elijah's skin. Ink that trails up his fingers, curling around his wrist again, and slowly spelling out Latin words in a line up his arm that means: I will find a way or I will make one.
But standing there in plaid boxers and nothing else, it's hard to miss the scars on his chest. Surgery scars- around his nipples and the bottom edge of where they redefined his chest. They're healing well, but still recent- the scars are pink, rather than faded silver. His breathing is rough with the adrenaline, and he wants to ask ... there's so many things he wants to ask. But instead his shoulders curl in, and he deflates in a way he hasn't before, that seems like more than the dreams. Something in his body language, in how he looks at Kavinsky changes.]
Do you.. have a shirt I can borrow?
[He imagines the other boys will probably be checking in on K in a moment, and he doesn't want them to see him like this. He should ask about the gun, about the fact that K killed a dream like he'd done it before, but the terror clawing in his heart feels more pressing- that the only boys he'd thought of as his friends won't see him for who he is.]