twenty-one

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THE REVOLUTION

Elijah is no stranger to darkness.

He lived in it a good part of his life, hiding away from the world like a scared little mouse, doing everything he was told without ever minding it. He's never been alone, though. Until now.

He's so alone.

Realistically, he knows he isn't. His father will be back from the generator in a few hours and complain when he'll see he's still in his bed.

He hasn't left it ever since he came back yesterday night. The dark now knows his name. He should stand up, shave his stubble and go back to his duties, he knows that. They aren't paying him to sit around. But he can't.

He can't, because Alouette was there.

He saw her.

She was as beautiful as ever, standing there in her black expensive clothes, looking every bit like the spy he knows she became. He had no doubt she'd make it, but the look on her face freaked him out all the same.

She was so concentrated, so... intent. She took two men down without flinching, one after the other. She moved from one corner of the room to the other quickly, like a ghost, too silent to be noticed.

And she pointed a gun at him. He did it too, but then he lowered his. For a moment, he could see the Alouette he knew in her eyes, that shard of an instant in which they widened as she recognised him. Never before he'd thought they'd stand on opposite sides, and yet there she was, shooting at the Revolution because the President had told her to, just like one of his guards.

He has no doubt that if he'd been anybody else, he'd be dead too.

But she recognised him, and for a second her eyes seemed so expressive, as if she was trying to tell him she missed him with a simple gaze. He wanted to tell her how much he missed her, he wanted to walk to her and spout some half-assed sarcastic comment about her having taken too long to show up, and then hug her so long that she complained about him being too cuddly.

She always did that. She always said he was too affectionate, and he always replied it wasn't his fault she was so cold. She usually slapped his arm playfully after that, but he knew that, deep down, she found it funny. She was always the first to go in for a hug when they were on the roof though, and then it was his turn to complain she was just using him for his warmth, and even though she agreed, she always shared her chocolates or peanuts with him— whichever it was she brought up as a snack.

That second ended too quickly, and all of a sudden that other dude was next to her. He tried to warn her, but he got to her before he could.

And then she pointed her weapon at him, and his heart stopped beating. Even though he wanted to believe she wouldn't shoot him, he couldn't help the fear that washed over him as one chilling thought crept up in his mind.

Would she kill him to prove her allegiance to the president?

He felt guilty in the second he realised what he was thinking about. He knew Alouette wasn't like that. They've been friends since forever, there was no way she would've hurt him. At the same time, though, he also knew her ambition and her need for perfection. Where would she draw the line?

She fired and it went in the wall, giving him time to hide. He knows it was on purpose— she rarely missed. It was enough for him to know her loyalty still lay with him. And then she distracted the guard, allowing him to run away.

And just like that, she was gone.

Nineteen hours later, he's still thinking about her. He can't stop her from crowding his every thought, her absence hurting a little more every time. He wonders if she's thinking about him as well, back at the fancy palace. If she wishes she was there with him instead of the expensive rooms she's now locked in, more like a prisoner than a guest.

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