set//elijah stevenson

chapter five

     My mother called me down for dinner at about 7:00. I could smell the spaghetti all the way from upstairs, and as great as it smelled, I was dreading going down there. But I knew I had to. I was going to be forced to make awkward eye contact with Eli, and I was going to be forced to make weird small talk. I knew that I was the destroyer of my own friendships and that I was usually the toxic one, but I wasn't in the mood for this. I just wanted to be alone. The last thing I wanted was to be having dinner with the guy I just confessed my love for. 

     I headed downstairs, seeing that the living room was empty. I carefully walked into the kitchen, their faint laughs echoing from the opening in the wall. I peeked inside, seeing a hardly made table and a few pictures of myself scattered about. The only spot that was open was next to Eli, which seemed typical. I hastily sat down, softly smiling at them.

     "I was just showing them all your cute pictures from over the years!" My mom chirped, picking a few up and setting them back in a box. I groaned, shoving my face into my hands.

     "Ugh, why??" I groaned, leaning my head down, ashamed of my younger self. I hated looking at older photos, specifically of myself. It was almost like looking at a bad time and being glad it's over, but still not really wanting to think about it. My mother never seemed to get that. There were a lot of things that my mother didn't get about me.

     "Oh, when will Howard be home?" Eli's mother asked, dismissing my mother's idea. My mother paused, her face dropping. I dropped my fork onto my plate and walked out of the room. I heard my mother whispering, about how he had walked out, and that it was a sensitive subject, but I wasn't there for it. I isolated myself in my room and decided not to cry or even think about it. Some things were better left covered up.

     I heard a soft knock on my door, almost like the knock itself was unsure of if it should be knocking. I huffed, my face hard and stern underneath the anger I felt. I shook off the thought, going to open my door. Before I even answered it, I knew it was Eli. That wasn't just because I knew that Eli understood to knock, but because I knew the pattern his knuckles made when they tapped a door. My brain memorized what it sounded like to hear the uncertainty of his words, even though they weren't really words. It was like our own version of Morse Code.

      My hand slid over the cold, golden doorknob, twisting it softly. Eli's face took shape from behind the wooden barrier, almost as if he were sad, or maybe scared. One look at his face, even though I knew before I saw him, and I knew for certain that he was unsure if he should even be there. He wanted to, but his face asked the question of if I wanted him to. My face asked that question, too. It was as if I could read the deeper meaning of everything Elijah seemed to do, and it was probably because I was in love with him at that particular moment in time. When no more tears could stream down my face, when no more smoke could come out of my ears, and when I invited Eli to see the calm after the storm, that was when I loved him. Or maybe this was just the eye of the hurricane. Maybe it wasn't over just yet.

     "Why didn't you tell me?" Eli whispered, sadness in his eyes. I looked away, glancing down just so that my gaze was as far away from his as possible. I didn't want to look at him. I had kept many secrets from Eli, and even though I saw it as a form of payback, he never seemed to keep any from me. 

      "It was never the right time." My voice cracked. I could feel his prying eyes trying their hardest to meet mine, to see what I was thinking, but I couldn't do it. I couldn't let him in. 

      "Can I come in?" He asked me. I wasn't sure if he was trying to change the subject, and I also wasn't really sure if I wanted him to come into my room. Life was frustrating enough without Eli giving the 'you can tell me anything' speech. That would be a new one, but one I didn't need nor want to hear. I could do without telling him, or anyone else, 'anything'.

      "If you must." I sighed, moving out of the door frame. The deep moment had come and gone, and now it felt as though Eli felt uncomfortable in my room. He had just been here this morning, yet he acted as if he had never been here in his life. The same heroic boy who would climb through my window only hours after gifting me a mini cactus was unsure if it were okay to take the door in. I suppose, however, there's something much more daring and exciting about sneaking around.

     "We can't keep fighting like this. You can't keep fighting me like this." Eli declared, sitting down on my bed. I looked at him, and then I nodded. I knew what he meant, but I didn't know if it were possible. I knew that as problematic as I am, I couldn't not fight him.

      "I'm sorry," I mumbled, shrugging. My eyes still couldn't seem to meet his no matter how hard I tried. It was inevitable, I could no longer look him in the eye. I was too ashamed, too afraid, and too hurt. I was a wounded soldier on the battlefield that was Eli. I say this because it's never the battlefield's fault, is it? It's the soldiers who fight there, and the thing controlling them. 

      "No, I'm sorry. I started this by being a douche. We'd have been fine if I just would have either been honest with you, or with her." He spoke with an honest tone, but he was hurt. Maybe hurt more than me. Through all this, I was selfish. I thought this hadn't even mattered to Eli, but he gave me all the signs that it had. He was like a female in that way. Stereotypically, at least. He would not be straightforward, you had to read between the lines. This was a habit I wished he'd grow out of, mostly because I had a hard time figuring out what he truly meant. Then again, I loved Eli no matter what, so if he kept it, I presume I'd get used to it.

     "Don't apologize. We're cool." I said, sitting down next to him. I leaned my arms down onto my knees, clasping my hands together. We both sighed, the soft air escaping our throats making it seem as if our emotions were in sync. I really wish that were true because then he would reciprocate my feelings.

      "I just want us to stop arguing." He said. I could feel him fall back onto my bed, a groan of frustration escaping his lips. 

      "If we don't stop talking about it we're gonna argue again, man." I laughed dryly, shaking my head. He pushed my shoulder playfully, chuckling. It stayed like that throughout the night, us joking and playfully shoving each other. It felt good to have us back.