[stfuelijah-blog]

Temptation always wins || Elijah and Connor

[stfuelijah-blog]

His shoulders lifted slightly in a careless shrug, “Not a lot,” he offered, despite it being a lie. He had seen all of it, even the boy struggling down the hallway before he even made it to the vending machine, but he wasn’t about to tell the other that. Though the temptation was there, especially if it meant the other would continue to blush. Elijah concluded that it looked very endearing on him. His eyes reluctantly wandered from the other, his gaze landing on the machine in question as his brows furrowed slightly. “Yeah.. that happens a lot. Last guy it happened to almost broke the thing, actually. It took three of the male nurses to hold him back.” Elijah could remember that day clearly and alright, it might have had something to do with the fact that it had happened only about a week ago, but still.

The boy’s attention was pulled back by the motion of the curly headed boy’s finger, eventually causing him to take a hesitant step forward. He could just imagine what his mother would tell him about approaching strangers like this, especially strangers in a hospital of all places. The woman had commented on the lack of safety around here numerous times before continuing to ramble on about germs or something along those lines. The young boy couldn’t help but laugh, his head shaking slightly before tilting to the side once again. “It would make sense, now that you mentioned it. The maintenance staff does like to mess with the patients, seeing as a lot of the maintenance staff doubles as the cleaning staff and some of the patients get a kick out of messing with them by making unnecessary messes. But then again, the interns like messing with the patients as well. If I didn’t know any better, I would place my bets on them instead.”

Elijah watched momentarily as the other boy- Connor- attempted to turn his wheelchair. He took a small step back, giving the other enough room before speaking once again. “Connor-” he repeated, nodding his head slightly before returning Connor’s, indeed dopey, smile, “It suits you, I like it. ‘M Eli, or well, Elijah. My friends tend to use Eli while my mom insists I use Elijah.” He fights down the second urge he has to kick himself, wondering if it’s some kind of illness to spout out useless information.

[connormallon-blog]

Connor releases a gratified sigh at the boy’s propitious reassurance, his stiff shoulders slackening and falling back against the wheelchair. “Cool. Great.” Greatest understatement of the century, really. In all likelihood, he’d appeared entirely ludicrous whining at a machine, out of all things. Be that as it may, he expressed himself too delightedly about how the boy didn't discover him humiliating himself, though. Shit. Casual, Mallon. Stay casual. “I mean, yeah. I was just wondering,” he chuckles, smacking his lips. There’s an foul, persistent voice in the back of his mind now, coercing him to turn away and end the conversation here. The guy, in all probability, has a job to do, in contrast to himself, who has only two viable courses of action: watch a shitty television program and mourn pathetically for the loss of his chocolate bar, or, he could keep converse with a fairly riveting boy. Of course, naturally, he doesn’t have to think twice about it. He could be selfish for once, and it’s not as if the other boy exhibited an impartiality towards him anyway. “Really, now? It’d probably take five nurses, at the very least, to hold these babies back if not for this broken leg,” he jokes, thumping his chest with clenched fists. 

Fringe (that's what he decides to call him for now) smells lovely, too, Connor noted when the boy takes a step closer. There was a hint of hesitance in his stride though, and Connor almost regrets his actions. Almost. But Fringe giggles at his lame quip and plays along, so he deems it as a small victory. "That's terrible. A travesty of justice, even. We need to stop this war, don't you agree? I'd just feel terrible for the next poor sod who uses this vending machine," he sighs with a shake of his head. "The interns, then. Huh. Aren't you an intern? Should I walk—I mean, roll, away slowly now?"

He offers a short nods in thanks when Fringe steps back to give him room to move. "Oh. You think so?" he questions and bites back another grin in response to Fringe's—Elijah's—bright smile. Someone's smile has perpetually been something Connor's paid attention to, and this boy's is just remarkable, really. "Always thought it was a bit.. average? Thanks, though." He pauses for a moment. "So, should I call you Eli then, or Elijah?"

[stfuelijah-blog]

Temptation always wins || Elijah and Connor

Elijah had been present when the curly haired boy had first arrived. A look of pain masking his face as he hobbled in through the emergency entrance with the help of his friends. He remembered how they had stopped and asked him for help, mistaking him for one of the staff members due to the clothing he had been wearing. He figured after a moment they would realize that he was a patient rather than something along the lines of a nurse, but the realization never dawned on them. And who was he to turn them away? After all, he spent so much time in that hospital he knew the place like the back of his hand and it was way better than telling them the truth. So instead, Elijah gave them the answers they were looking for, giving them a small smile in return to their ‘thank yous’ and watched as they headed off, his eyes still trained on the curly headed one in particular.

Naturally, curiosity had bloomed instantly within the young boy. The thoughts of what might have possibly happened to the other boy swirling around his head the more he thought about it. He knew it had to have been something with the boy’s leg or foot, considering the fact that he was limping. Elijah had met his fair share of limpers coming in and out of the hospital, all of their stories different. It was as if he had started a collection of them, honestly. At least, that’s what he had told himself to justify his actions and give himself a reason to approach the curly headed boy currently perched in a wheelchair, attempting to work one of the various vending machines. 

The boy had neared the other slowly, watching for a few more moments before clearing his throat, a small smile crossing his lips as he tilted his head slightly. “That one doesn’t work, you know,” he commented, fighting the urge to physically kick himself for how small his voice sounded, “Maintenance hasn’t gotten around to fixing it yet.” It was true, at least, partly. The damn thing had been broken for nearly a month now and the nurses had given him the same excuse, but he knew that nobody was actually going to fix it. “That one works though,” he offered, pointing to the one beside it, “If you don’t mind paying a little more.”

[connormallon-blog]

It was because a dare. An entirely nonsensical and moronic dare at that, now that he thinks of it.

See, his buddy's got this bungalow with a pool out back, right? And they'd just been lounging about in worn plastic chairs with a couple of other guys, beers in hand, when they all established—save for himself—that it’d be a grand idea to hop into the pool from the rooftop. ‘I’ll pass,’ Connor’d dismissed, waving them off with a roll of his eyes. He didn’t quite aspire to take on the off-putting prospect of breaking his neck, thank you very much, and he told them exactly that. He's vastly partial to having fun, yeah, but he was not at all much of a risk taker. Playing it safe's the way to go, for him. Regardless, long story short, the dimwits he regards as friends challenged him (as if they were twelve years old, rather than twenty-somethings) to quote unquote ‘live a little’ and he regrettably succumbed to peer pressure, thus leading to his now broken leg. They're lucky that he's more than lenient. 

He doesn’t really like hospitals, Connor decides. Everything's too white: white sheets, white walls, white tiles, and it carries with them an inordinate wave of memories that he'd spent years holding back. Plus, the vending machine's failing him unconditionally. He's shaking the utter piece of junk in an act of anguish and desperation as he stares down the Snickers bar with pure need.  "Why?" he whispers with a fervent ferocity. "Don't do this to me. Please." 

Connor makes out a voice then in his time of darkness, soft and light, from behind him. He whirls his head to see a boy, perhaps around his age, with an amused expression etched onto his sharp features. "Er. Hi. How much of that did you, uh, exactly see?" he questions, face scrunched and scarlet with mortification. What a lovely first impression to a striking—nurse? Intern, maybe? "Yeah, I realized that when my chocolate bar didn't come out. It won't give me my cash back, though," he motions for the boy to come closer with his index finger and stage whispers, "It's a ploy, I think. Maintenance is scamming innocent individuals such as myself, and they need to be stopped." 

It's a bit of a struggle to turn himself towards the boy around due to the complete absence of wheelchair manoeuvring skills, but he gets there, and he waves with a smile that he's sure is dopey on his lips. "I'm Connor, by the way."