LOST IN TIME.

[elifalvey]

♫ — INTRODUCING . . .

FULL NAME: Elijah Ray Falvey.

NICKNAME(S): Eli, EJ, E.

AGE & DATE OF BIRTH: 41. November 8th, 1982.

GENDER & PRONOUNS: Cisgender man. He/him.

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Bisexual.

OCCUPATION: Ghostwriter, producer & owner of MOREMUSIC studio.

HOMETOWN: Cardiff, Wales.

PREVIOUSLY LIVED: Los Angeles, California ( 2006 - 2020 ).

TIME IN PROVIDENCE PEAK: 2000 - 2006, 2020 - present.

CURRENT NEIGHBORHOOD: Claret Park.

FACECLAIM: Tom Ellis.

STATS • WANTED • TIMELINE • MUSINGS

♫ — BIOGRAPHY . . .

TRIGGER WARNINGS • Car accidents, death, implied depression & grief.

There was never a dull moment in the Falvey household — or a quiet one, at that. Born to two eccentric musicians in Cardiff, Wales, Elijah Ray Falvey was destined to love music from his very first breath. His parents could sense it, too. Calming notes from a melody always seemed to soothe their son’s cries in a way that never replicated itself when it came to their later children, and they were pretty sure that they saw him dance before they saw him stand up on his own two feet. It made sense that one of the earliest memories that Elijah could muster, there was a pair of drumsticks in his hands, banging pots and pans in a crowded kitchen to David Bowie’s ‘Heroes’.

With all of the musical instruments lying around, it was safe to say that Elijah had experience with most of them by the time he was six years old. One that he was forbidden to touch, however, was his father’s dusty Steinway Model piano that took up space in the family’s garage. Any time that he got too curious and climbed up on the stool to see it, Rodney Falvey was rushing after him and grumbling about 'his grandfather’s prized possession’, or something like that. Although, one day, when Rodney wasn’t home and his mother was too occupied chasing after his siblings in the yard, Elijah snuck into the carport and fell in love almost instantaneously.

From that day onwards, playing that piano was all that occupied Elijah’s mind. At school, around the playground, when he was sleeping — learning how to properly play was all that consumed his entire being. After several exhausting months of begging his father to teach him, Rodney eventually gave in and bought his son a keyboard of his own to practice on. It was everything that Elijah ever could have dreamed of and more, much to everyone’s dismay who couldn’t pry him away from the damn thing. No other instrument seemed to matter to him as much as his piano did, and his parents had even wound up paying a private instructor to come to the house each week in order to help him hone his skill.

Other than music, his life was fairly average. He did averagely in academics, had an average amount of friends and ended his secondary school career on a pretty average note. His life stopped being average merely a couple of months before his eighteenth birthday when his parents sat him and his siblings down to tell them the news: they were moving to America. His parents, who normally performed their music locally at bars and events, wanted to expand their career and sign a deal with a recording company in the states. That meant that they had to take the next step and pack their quaint life in Wales away and trade it for a long plane ride to Colorado.

Just outside of Denver in Providence Peak is where the Falvey family wound up, just in time for Elijah to enroll in Providence Peak University the following school year. He mainly kept his head down and kept to himself, minding his own business as the foreign freshman that some other students would whisper about. It wasn’t until he met one particular freshman in October that he started coming out of his shell.

Harrison Morrey was what some would consider an old soul — he was incredibly mature for his age, but incredibly goofy at the same time; he had the same passion for music that Elijah did, hence how he found the other man following him around like a fly on the wall for months after they had met. Practically joined at the hip, Harrison would bug Elijah every single day to consider joining his newly formed rock band, Amethyst. Every single day until Christmas, Elijah politely declined. He was apprehensive of the idea even after he reluctantly agreed to listen in on one practice (which of course, turned into two which turned into all of them after that) purely because he had thought that he wasn’t made to be in a band. As much as he enjoyed music, he enjoyed creating it even more than performing it and the position of band member didn’t necessarily suit him very much. He was too reserved, too adamant on sticking to what he was comfortable with rather than trying something new. He couldn’t be in a band. Not in a million years. Harrison was nothing if not persistent, though. That much was a fact. He successfully managed to convince Elijah by the new year to be the last missing member that they needed to man the keyboard.

For countless hours after school, Elijah, Harrison and three other bandmates spent time experimenting with their style and making music that they loved. Even after all five of them graduated from the University, they still stuck together. In fact, Elijah ended up moving out of his parents’ new home in order to move in with Harrison only a few blocks away from the other band members’ apartment. They were all closer than ever, but Elijah would consider Harrison in particular his best friend so long as the other three weren’t around to hear it.

Elijah grew into his fear exponentially, realized somewhere along the way that performing music had become a passion of his and they were having fun. It reminded him of his own parents and how much joy they got from performing, and he started to think that he wouldn’t mind doing the same for the rest of his life as long as it was with them. Making music because they loved to, to put their heart and soul into their craft regardless of who was listening — that was what his dream had become, and all it took was one big break to achieve that dream.

In 2005, Amethyst had received an email from an employee at Warner Records; they wanted to meet with them and discuss a deal, from their headquarters in Los Angeles. Making the trip out there was one of the easiest decisions that they had ever made in their lives, as was officially signing on with them a handful of weeks later to record their first ever EP. The marketing that came along with working with such a large company brought with it a level of success that surpassed anything that Elijah could have ever expected. They gained popularity in what seemed like a whirlwind, when it felt like just yesterday that they were practicing in Harrison’s family’s basement. Over the course of the coming years came more music, more concerts, more fame. They got the opportunity to travel the world on tour and live the best life that they possibly could. By the summer of 2019, Amethyst had two EPs, two albums, countless singles and three whole tours under their belt.

As much as Elijah never could have expected to be in the position that he was in then, he equally never could have expected how quickly it all came crashing down.

On their way towards the venue in Los Angeles, the day of the last show on their third tour, a reckless driver had been swerving lanes on the highway when they eventually crashed directly into the band’s van. It caused a chain reaction on the road of vehicles colliding into one another until the road was merely a gigantic pile of rubble and mess. Truth be told, Elijah didn’t remember much of the crash itself — the last thing he had any vague memories of was the sound of wailing ambulances and the squeeze of someone’s hand on his arm before his mind and vision went completely blank. It was later when he came to consciousness again that he learned that he lost his best friend that day. Despite the paramedics putting forth their best efforts, the passenger sitting on the left side of the van got sandwiched between multiple vehicles and never made it out. Harrison. Harrison who insisted on going in first. His best friend, Amethyst’s front man, died that night and Elijah swore that a piece of himself died with him, along with Amethyst itself. After months of recovery — physically and emotionally — the four remaining members decided to call it quits. Without Harrison, there was no Amethyst. It wouldn’t be right to continue without him, even if they could infer that was what he would have wanted. It was too painful, the wound of losing him being brought to life each time the band even crossed their thoughts.

Elijah’s musical career was buried all the same. As was his life in Los Angeles. He was suddenly devoid of purpose, of the will to carry on doing something that he loved without the person that he loved there to witness it. Getting as far away from California, where he spent nearly half his life seemed like the best option — but with nowhere else to go, in 2020 he found himself landing in Colorado for the second time. Which didn’t prove itself to be any better, but at least he was somewhere that felt a little more like home still.

♫ — PERSONALITY . . .

POSITIVE TRAITS: Affable, Allocentric, Creative, Gregarious, Humble, Loyal.

NEGATIVE TRAITS: Loquacious, Passive, Resentful, Reticent, Self-Sabotaging.

ZODIAC: Scorpio Sun, Capricorn Moon.

MORAL ALIGNMENT: Neutral Good.

MBTI TYPE: ESFJ ( The Consul ).

♫ — RELATIONSHIPS . . .

MOTHER: Erica Falvey.

FATHER: Rodney Falvey.

SIBLINGS: Nikolas Falvey ( Brother ), Reginald 'Reggie' Falvey ( Brother ), Cynthia Falvey ( Sister ).

SIGNIFICANT OTHER: Aslihan Fahri-Bailey ( Girlfriend ).

CHILDREN: Rhiannon Nurbanu Falvey ( July 5th, 2023 ).

See ESTABLISHED page for all connections !

♫ — FUN FACTS . . .

Acquired two out of his four current cats shortly after he moved back home thanks to his therapist ( at the time ) suggesting that he invest in an emotional support animal. He went to the shelter and fell in love with a bonded pair of kittens, who he named Oliver & Eve. His third cat, Kemet, is technically his girlfriend's cat. His fourth is an unnamed feral orange guy who appeared around his studio one day; he's still trying to earn his trust.

Started smoking in 2001 when he was a teenager due to peer pressure from his friends. He's smoked Malboro Menthols or American Spirits consistently since then in fluctuating amounts depending on his stress levels. The highest he's ever gotten up to was two and a half packs per day, the lowest being a half pack per day. If he ever says that he's going to quit, he's definitely just fooling himself.

That being said: absolutely hates vapes. Strawberry Cereal Donut Milk? Triple Berry Ice? Strawberry Watermelon Blast? Get them all out of here. Literally what the fuck is a Geek Bar.

Is the type of guy to try just about anything at least once. Which is, coincidentally, how he found out that he hates vapes. And how he shouldn't mix hard liquor. And how he's oddly flexible . . .

Has many useless party tricks up his sleeve, such as: pen spinning, breaking apples in half, rolling coins between his fingers, and tying cherry stems with his tongue.

Found out he was ambidextrous at a very young age, but started to favor his left over time. Regardless of what hand he uses, his handwriting is pure chicken scratch. He's only known a handful of people that can confidently decipher what he's trying to write down without having to ask him what certain ink blobs on the paper say.

Will not ever commit to a favorite genre of music, despite the fact that he very obviously is partial towards rock ( classic, indie, hard, pop — he doesn't discriminate ). He will, however, say that he's not the biggest fan of heavy metal in his own roundabout way of not saying so directly.

Has become extremely annoying post-accident in the sense that he demands for people let him know via text that they've gotten to their destinations safely if he knows that they're going anywhere ( meaning: a good portion of his messages with those he cares about include variations of 'Made it okay!' and thumbs up emojis ). If he doesn't receive a notification, he gets too riddled with anxiety and starts to think that something's happened to them on the road.

Unsurprisingly favored his school's band in terms of extracurriculars as a kid, though he did fill up excess time being apart of the theatre club's stage crew.

Isn't particularly good at video games on account of not playing them much. However, he does pull skill out of his ass when it comes to rhythm games such as Guitar Hero or Rock Band. Get him in a tournament, he'll probably crush it.

Finds it extremely difficult to get up in the morning and has punched a fair amount of alarm clocks until they've stopped beeping at him. The increasing frequency in which he suffers from restless sleep these days only makes it ten times harder — thanks PTSD-induced, chronic nightmares!

Knows how to take care of his curls. His mother was very adamant on instilling a proper hair care routine when he was teenager, after she found out that he was aggressively rubbing the water off with a pool towel after every shower. His skin care still needs to catch up to speed, but a simple face soap has never steered him wrong before.

Is still cordial with Harrison's family — who, all things considered, treated him like a second son. Thinking about the accident has made it hard for him to reach out as often as he wants to, but he does make a point to stop by their cabin in Bighorn Hills at least once every six months or so. He has yet to do so on his death anniversary, which is arguably one of the most important days to let the Morrey's know that he's thinking about them, but one day he'll be able to crawl out of bed and make it there. Hopefully.

Plans to silently donate a percentage of his earnings garnered through his music studio each year to the Roadway Safety Foundation.

[elifalvey]

Of course, Elijah knew that there were more complications to Phoebe’s relationship than what he was privileged to hear exactly, bits and bobs that she left out with him trickling to his ears from Aslihan’s mouth from time to time. He couldn’t lie and say that he wasn’t at least a little worried, in the ‘I care about you and I don’t want you to get hurt’ sort of way; he wasn’t a stranger to how easily the messiness of undefined relationships could end up in heartbreak, some of the world’s best songs being written about that very thing. However, he tried to put all of that out of his mind whenever she decided to speak about Foster, tried to stop himself from jumping the gun and being overbearingly protective. She was an adult, after all, and as much as the joke grew on him in the passing months, he wasn’t her dad. Whatever would happen, would happen, and the only thing he could really do was be happy for them in this moment.

“Yeah,” he said with an exhale, mustering a smile that let Phoebe know exactly how he felt about that — Rhia walking — without even having to say it. Thinking about that, though, and the fact that soon enough his daily life would be filled with more chaos than he knew how to handle, was better than having to think about his real, Amethyst-shaped problems. Even if it was still stressful, it was in a different way. “Guess I’m just glad she’s not all that fast yet, otherwise I think we’d be learning that our house isn’t as baby-proofed as we first thought.” Just the other day, she’d been gunning for the cat bowls as quickly as her body could take her, which was merely a testament of that. Before she was moving, they hadn’t been a problem. They’d likely be moving things out of her way for a long time. “Oh,” he hesitated as Phoebe spoke again, taking his bottom lip between his teeth while he pondered what to say to her questions. It was then that she backtracked and said that he didn’t have to talk about it, which he did appreciate, but instead of leaning into the out she gave him, he shrugged. “He, um . . . is sort of the grudge type, so . . .” He forced out a laugh, even if there wasn’t any humor in his uncertainty. “Maybe. I wouldn’t really put it past him to, uh — seek me out to speak his mind, y’know? It’s - it’s fine, though, Pheebs. Forgetting about it probably isn’t the . . . best thing to do, anyway.” Trying to forget about it had been eating him alive, actually — that and the fact that he knew he still had to talk to Aslihan about everything, eventually.

( @phoebeyates )

[phoebeyates-archive]

"Oh she's going to be like, the Tasmanian Devil." She guessed, referring to the cartoon, could already see Rhia spinning around ike a cyclone and wreaking havoc wherever she went, but couldn't hlep but grin despite herself. Because she was comfortable making these sort of jokes regarding a family she felt a part of, despite a year ago, barely knowing them outside of fucking up Aslihan's drink order every morning.

Phoebe had really grown to like Elijah, as more than Aslihan's partner, as more than her own music mentor. She had gotten to know him better than she had ever expected to, and was grateful he felt comfortable enough to talk to her about things that were moreso outside the bounds of their relationship. Sure there were stuff she'd never share with him (her sex life with Foster being a major one, especially after that run-in with the older man at Condom Sense) but this, it was easier to navigate in a way. "Do you want me to beat him up?" She offered, as if she could realistically take on a grown man (if she tapped into her bottled up teenage rage, she probably could). "But it's sad as fuck if he seeks you out to cause shit. Maybe sic Rhia on him, those baby teeth can be sharp if used correctly." Her face softened, reaching out to offer a comforting touch of his shoulder. "But if you ever wanna talk about stuff...I may not know or relate, but I'm a good listener, I think."

@elifalvey

[elifalvey]

Merely a year ago, Elijah would have never expected Phoebe — nothing more to him than Aslihan’s eager assistant, back then — to be someone that he could confide in so easily. Especially not about things like this, personal things that he couldn’t even bring himself to share with some of his eldest friends. Standing here now, sharing a quiet moment alone away from the subdued chaos of the drive in theater, was nothing if not a testament to how much their own relationship has grown in such a short amount of time. And while he still couldn’t necessarily bring himself to dive too deeply into the Amethyst of all his problems, he appreciated her listening ear, her presence, her connection. It was a different kind of support than what he often received from Aslihan, though clearly just as needed.

As much was evident by the way his shoulders relaxed underneath the weight of her palm, offering a half smile at the gesture and an amused huff at the offer of beating Roman up. Sure, she didn’t know exactly who she’d preemptively signed up to take on, but the mental image was entertaining regardless — and it was the thought that counted, anyway. He wouldn’t actually let her do that, even if he and the bassist weren’t on good terms. “No, uh — no fisticuffs for right now, but you’ll be the first person I call when I need to take out a hit, don’t worry. Rhi’s the second.” He brought his hand up to pat her own, a more subtle way of showing her that her effort to soothe him didn’t go unnoticed. However, his grin soon fell, and there was a moment of pause before he elaborated, almost in an exhale. “It’s, um . . . one of my old bandmates. The guy. I don’t know if you’ve, like . . . I guess, seen stuff on the internet — I know you’re pretty savvy with that sort of thing — but, yeah. It's . . . complicated.”

( @phoebeyates )

[mctildatautou]

Elijah was quick to become someone only mentioned in whispers since the accident that indirectly casted its indelible mark on her life. She had once gathered the courage to say his name, hoping to bring out even a flicker of vulnerability from Roman, but after the third attempt, she learned silence was the safer route in the matter. Silence becoming the only route she took through the remainder of their relationship.

There were moments after when she entertained the idea of reaching out to Elijah, in attempt to fill the void of loneliness that rushed over her after she had become the next person mentioned only in whispers. Yet, each time she grasped for her phone, the weight of embarrassment pressed down on her. She wasn't ready to explain what she did to anyone, not then, not now.

As Elijah spoke, Matilda softened of her features. Her shoulders eased, and the tension that had once gripped her breath released. "Yeah.. I guess I can spot a few more grays from here," she joked, her finger tracing imaginary lines.

"A few years, but it feels like ages ago honestly," she confessed, on the brink of mentioning the last time she'd laid eyes on him. Fortunately, she caught herself, unwilling to bring up the painful memories just yet.

Matilda sensed his hesitation, bracing herself for the inevitable topic she'd hoped to avoid. "Hm," she hummed, her brow knitting as she processed his question. How was he? It wasn't the response she anticipated, leaving her momentarily puzzled. "Still a bit sour, I suppose," she offered vaguely, uncertain how to navigate the question considering the years of silence between the two. @elifalvey

[elifalvey]

Roman, very clearly, was a sensitive subject for the both of them, however Elijah was naive enough to believe that his relationship with the bassist was the only one that soured. From the last positive interaction between them that he remembered, fleeting images of the shiny engagement ring and soft whispers of a perfect plan passed around the tour bus, and he wouldn’t have expected that to end up in ruins too. They were good together, back then, so much so that even if it wasn’t blatantly in their future by the time Amethyst exploded from underneath their feet, he would have assumed a fairy-tale ending for them anyway.

In his mind, there was no way that the opposite could have become a reality — so it was awkward, yes, and Matilda’s hesitance didn’t go unnoticed, but he passed that off as uncertainty on his end and ventured forward with the questions.

“Sour?” he wondered, the adjective being one most unexpected from who he thought to be his fiance. Or would it be wife by now, with the years that have passed? “I guess that’s a good word to describe him, yeah. When’s he not sour?”

The laugh that followed showcased that his question was mostly rhetorical, though he wondered if perhaps Roman happened to mention him after all. Maybe that was what the tension was about.  Regardless, he continued, “I assume the, uh . . . the wedding and everything didn’t soften him up much then, huh?”

( @mctildatautou )

[leonwozniak]

the girl at the bar had shaken his arm, pulling him from his drunken reverie. his head already pounded from mixing whiskey with gin, and the water she pushed towards him made him feel queasier, a side effect leon was pretty sure she hadn't intended. she whispered i think you've had enough for tonight, leon and leon accepted. he was a reasonable man. after all, it was just a regular sunday night.

with his tab paid, leon stumbled out of his seat. and just a few meters away from the exit, he stopped dead in his tracks, his mind blank, eyes spotting a rare sighting in these woods. he made his way to his friend and stood in front of his table, waiting to be noticed, yearning to be something other than invisible.

i meant to text you back

though leon wasn't too drunk to recognize eli's admission as honest, the words angered him more than anything.

"you know what," leon sat unceremoniously on the chair in front of eli, hands in his leather jacket's pockets. slouching, he sniffed, trying to appear less inebriated than he actually was. why was he trying to save face in front of eli? he didn't really know. but at least one of them had to not look like complete garbage. leon was pretty sure that, even in his condition, he was winning.

yay! one gold medal for the bagel man

"i doubt it." that had been leon's mistake: thinking he could make do with only one close friend, or thinking he could open up again to a friend. eli's ghosting had been a surprise; they had managed to stay in contact all those years they lived at opposite ends of the continent. and now, because leon did… whatever he did, they weren't talking anymore. which was a bummer, because the last two weeks had been nightmarish. he could have done with a few of eli's witty remarks, or even him telling leon he smelled like garlic.

anything. anything but fucking silence. anything but being left to his own fucking reality, alone.

"you look like shit." no preamble, no fuss. just rudeness, just leon at his core. trying to get a rise from the other man, just to make sure he, himself, was actually here. not invisible. "last time i saw you looking this shitty you had your accident."

they never talked about that time; about that weekend when the news had hit, and leon had texted his friend a small hope ur ok just to have him knocking at his door three days later. because they hadn't needed talking, and honestly, what was there to say? leon hadn't been in eli's close circle for years then, but he could at least offer a place where they other could hide a little without having to talk about anything.

they didn't talk about it then, they weren't talking about it now. until now, because leon was angry, and hurt, and perhaps he didn't know what to do with this. with this hurt and this stupid humiliation of being hurt yet again by a friend. and for sure, a part of him had been increasingly worried for his friend, but fuck if he knew his wife's phone number or even where his workplace was. so worry transformed into anger, and here they were.

angry and sad, what a nice fucking duo.

[elifalvey]

Elijah’s poor excuse of an explanation was weak, he knew that, and he knew just as well that Leon wouldn’t be able to stay completely silent about it either. He could already see the anger stewing behind his friends eyes, drudged up feelings of abandonment being one hell of a beast to mess with. Despite that, the musician tried not to take it too personally. Having known Leon for as long as he did, he had a hard time believing that a measly few weeks without communication would be the final nail in the coffin of their decades-long friendship. If anything, it would be the lack of communication henceforth that would do them in — and while he didn’t necessarily want to talk about it, about everything, it seemed as though he was being met with yet another inescapable scenario where he’d have to.

God, it was times like these where he wished that he didn’t know the bagel man all that well. If he didn’t — didn’t recognize that he was lashing out in search of answers — he could take proper offense and walk away, and that would be that. Easily settled. Perfectly sorted. Yet again avoiding the reality of having to deal with your feelings eventually. Instead, he sighed as Leon sat himself down in the chair ahead of him, his own gaze dropping to the table in shame.

“Yeah, well. It’s been a rough few weeks,” he chuckled dryly, a pause in his words before he continued, “And you don’t exactly look like sunshine and rainbows either.”

It wasn’t that Leon didn’t deserve an explanation, because he did. Elijah acted out of panic, cast one of his eldest surviving friends aside and perpetuated that behavior for weeks. It was objectively shitty of him, and this time he was able to actually recognize it without being unnecessarily stubborn first. It was just that he and Leon, well . . . they didn’t exactly communicate. Not like regular friends would, anyway. Somewhere along the timeline, between the pair going their separate ways and reconvening in the rare blue moons, they both decided that less was more, essentially. Mostly unspoken worked just fine for them. And it was a welcomed change of pace, comparing him to the other friends he’d managed to make throughout his life, to the bandmates that he was so sure weaseled their way into his fucking voice notes.

It was nice, getting to just be quiet for once. Understood, without having to do too much. His fingers tapped rhythmically against the bottle in his hands, thinking that now was definitely his last chance to act offended, put on a big show, before the exterior walls finally chipped away and the unspoken became spoken, effectively breaking their silent pact.

Glancing up at Leon once more, though, he quickly realized that he couldn’t do that. So he said, rather firmly, “I did. Mean to text you back. About the, uh . . . French woman shitting on your coffee. It’s just . . .” His lips pursed almost as if it was painful for him to say it. “I think I know her. And I know, realistically, there’s more than one French woman with a bit of a temper in this town, but . . . I, uh . . . ran into mine, recently, and the timing was just . . . weird. That's why I didn't.”

And that’s why I’m here, drinking alone, because everything just keeps piling on and now my own bloody girlfriend is acting strangely, and I don’t know what else to do about all of it.

Okay, maybe there were still some things that could remain unsaid.

( @leonwozniak )

[draslihanxfahri-bailey]

Aslihan has never been able to handle seeing Elijah cry. To see him so upset and such agonizing pain that the only way to express it, to release it all, was for him to cry. For the anthropologist, it broke her heart. It has always been one of the most agonizing, most horrible things she's ever witness. Though, part of that must've come from the fact that the man has always tried to appear so strong in front of her. That he was unshakeable and capable of handling anything. While there was a part of her that appreciated him sharing his vulnerability with her, it was a double-edged sword. Though, at this point, they've learned to lean on each other more. To allow each other to see the parts of them that others don't witness.

After a little over a year and a half of being in a relationship, along with three and a half years of being friends, and now nearly ten months of being parents together, they've seen parts of each other that no one else have. Understood each other in such an unbreakable way, bonded to each other for the rest of their lives and impacted each other's hearts in ways that no one else could. So, perhaps she has become emboldened in the belief that there was nothing that Eli could say or do that would surprise her completely.

Her dark curls moved as she shook her head. "You have nothing to apologize for," she whispered. Moving one of her hands to brush some of his hair away from his forehead so that she could lean in and kiss it. "They're just cigarettes, love. And we can put everything back together the way they were before. Or maybe even do something new; It's time for a refresh, huh? We can work on it together. It's okay."

If the curator could look back on this moment, she'd laugh sadly at her own naivete. How it'd been more than some silly cigarettes or a big mess that needed to be cleaned up. No, it was so much more. Though, perhaps she could argue that during that time, she truly believed that she knew everything about the man she called her partner. That if anyone would to ask her a question about Eli, that she'd be able to answer it honestly without needing to take a beat to think about what the answer could be. That she knew him in and out the same way she did.

After all: the woman hadn't realized how wrong she'd been. Or that there was still some things that she hadn't known about the man who captured her heart.

As she sat there, her fingers caressing him while she tried to comfort him with soothing words, she'd been certain that they could work this out together. The same way they've worked out other things together in the past. She'd been certain that this was going to be okay and that they'd be able to work things out, then be back to going about their life together as before. That maybe, just maybe, she'd be able to go back to thinking about their future together without any fear.

How naive she believe she was, once looking back to this moment.

"What?" Her brows furrowed, pulling back slightly as she got a look of her partner. How could anyone ever hate him? That felt impossible. Before she could even ask, he clarified who he was talking about. And her heart fell. "Oh, my love... No." Asli shook her head before she pulled him back in for a hug, sighing softly. "No, no, no. He could never hate you; He loved you. He loved you with all his heart. There's nothing you could've ever said or done that could've change that. Why do you believe that? Did something happen? Do you really miss him today?" ||📜@elifalvey

[elifalvey]

The fifth year anniversary of the accident that had changed Amethyst’s life was merely looming over Elijah’s head, meaning that it was only a matter of time before the usual deprecating thoughts started to seep through the cracks of his personal defenses. It had always happened around this time, when June inched closer and closer on the calendar and memories of Harrison, happy and smiling and alive, managed to occupy a larger space in his mind than they did in the colder months. He always did his best to drown them out, in previous years, throwing more things on his plate to distract himself from the ‘what if’s that would haunt him in his sleep; what if they never added that extra show, what if the van had gotten stuck in traffic, what if they’d just switch seats.

It was undoubtedly exhausting going through such a routine each year, knowing that he would be stuck with this mental plague for the rest of his life. However, selfishly, with the addition of Rhiannon, he thought that he’d be able to avoid the pattern this year. He had his little girl to focus on instead, who didn’t deserve an absentminded and distracted father, period. Clearly the universe — Roman and Kaya, more specifically — had other plans, reemerging in Providence Peak to lead the spiral in a completely different direction: what if he had just stayed.

He never allowed himself to go down that particular train of thought before, believing that if he was confident enough in his decision to leave, then all of the nasty aftermath of such wouldn’t hurt him; he could block them all out of his life, ignore every stupid internet article about theirs, and heal. It was why he was so headstrong when confronting both of his bandmates, refusing to climb out of the hole he’d dug for himself as he continued to burrow further and further down. He couldn’t handle the possibility that the choice he’d made was a bad one, that perhaps Roman was right and he was cruel, that perhaps Kaya was right and Harrison would hate him for it. That regardless of what was said, he’d never really know.

In the comfort of his own home, his ideology started to crumble. Both of their voices rang out so clearly in the front of his mind that he found himself scoffing at Aslihan’s attempt at comfort, to absolutely no fault of her own. In any other circumstances, there was a chance that her words would mean something, despite the fact that she’d never met the man who caused all of this. Unfortunately, it was simply ironic now. No, he could hate me. No, he never loved me. What I’ve done could have changed everything. Please, just hear me out . . . don't hate me, too.

He shook his head.

“I . . . I saw my bandmates. Um — K-Kaya today, and Roman . . . a few months ago.” He rubbed the back of his neck, the sweat from his palm leaving a rather cool sensation. His voice was trembling. “I haven’t really, uh . . . mentioned them before. We — um. Didn’t really leave off on good terms?” His chuckle was dry as he tried to navigate through what he needed to say. His eyes were still lowered, purposefully avoiding her gaze on the off chance that he’d find disappointment there too; he wouldn’t be surprised, if that were the case. “The last I saw them, it was . . . uh, after . . . everything, I guess. A few years ago. I —” He winced. “I just needed to get out. The weight of it all felt like it was crushing me and the only thing that I could think to do was leave —” he spoke quickly, despite the uncertainty still lining his tone. “But they . . . um. Don’t . . . see it, y’know, the same way. They kept saying that I abandoned them. They don’t understand.”

He expelled a sigh. “I can’t make them understand. Losing him — Harry — it was hard, for - for all of us, but I —” Swallowing thickly, he finally looked up. “I loved him. I . . . loved him. I - I - I spent years, decades, loving him, wanting him, wishing more than anything to just —” Tears had begun to well in his eyes again and he clenched his fist. “I don’t know.” It came out dejected, in a whisper, like it all didn’t matter now. He supposed it didn’t.

“I never told anybody. Especially not them . . . Roman is just, Roman — and Kaya, she . . . or, they, y’know. It was complicated.” Complicated being the best term to describe the all-encompassing whirlwind that was her relationship with Harrison. There was a long pause. “It doesn’t matter now. They won’t — I can’t,” he settled on. “He called me cruel. She said that he’d hate me. Maybe they’re both right.”

( @draslihanxfahri-bailey )

[draslihanxfahri-bailey]

How does one prepare themself to comfort the person you loved before you realize just how much pain they're in? How do you take away their pain entirely, to heal them from the hurt they felt? You can't. Not entirely, not the way you wish. It takes time for a person to heal. To be able to breathe one day and realize that their chest felt lighter. To be able to think back to the catalyst of your pain and for it to not hurt the way it did before, that the pain has become duller and less tender. Of course, healing isn't linear. There are days where the pain felt just as fresh, tender, and earth-shattering as it had been at the very beginning. There are days where it was neutral and you didn't know how to navigate it.

To navigate your pain, it depends on the day. The curator knew that very well over the years. Yet she hadn't been prepared for Eli's pain to come in such high-speed. Everyone had their own demons, of course. After all, you never know what one could be facing. And, by this point, Aslihan had been certain that she knew everything that there was about Elijah. She knew that the bus crash had changed his life entirely and she knew that that could be something that still affected him to that day. How could losing your best friend to something so permanent and then losing your other friends not be? She understood entirely that it affected him. But… She hadn't known just how life-changing it all was. Or how this moment was about to become one of those moments where everything changed.

That was the thing about life-changing moments, though: you never know when to expect them or when/how they were going to happen. You never know what they could end up being. A year ago, they had a life-changing moment. Turning their friend-turned-relationship entirely on its axis with news about their daughter. While it ended up becoming a beautiful blessing, it hadn't been easy to navigate at first, especially that first month and a half there. Though, after them being able to turn things around and work everything out for their newfound family, she'd been certain that they could work out anything that life threw their way together.

That still didn't mean that it hadn't been jarring when everything changed. How she watched his features change once seeing the blue box. How he was so silent before he began to sob. Seeing him cry nearly made her cry; She hadn't realized until now just how painful it was to see the love of her life in pain. "B-Baby," she gasped softly. Getting up quickly so that she could hold him, resting her chin atop his head before kissing his head softly. With one hand running through his hair and the other caressing his back, her heart broke more and more with each bawl that came from the musician. What happened? What changed everything? She wanted to find out. She wanted to help him. "What's wrong, my love? I got you. I promise, I got you. No matter what… I got you, baby. What happened and what can I do to help?" ||📜@elifalvey

[elifalvey]

Stop, stop, stop. Stop fucking crying. That was the only thing that was going through Elijah’s head at first, his partner’s gentle voice approaching sounding instead like distant ringing. He didn’t want to cry. No, he had to stop, for this entire situation felt utterly ridiculous in his overly emotional mind, and he was sure he ought to look the part too. As she kneeled down in front of him, his second thought became, God, what does Aslihan think? If he were to look at her, he would see the utter confusion behind her eyes, mixed within the concern that she held for him. He couldn’t bring himself to raise his head, though, to see past his own tears. In fact, he could barely comprehend the sensation of her fingertips scratching lightly along his back, her arms wrapped around him the best they could.

“I - I . . . Sorry, I’m - I’m sorry.” I’m sorry for crying over cigarettes, I’m sorry for ruining the afternoon, I’m sorry for thinking about what Kaya had said, I’m sorry for not being stronger . . . he felt almost overwhelmed with options for what he could be apologizing for, wanting to convey everything and nothing at the same exact time. On one hand, she deserved every single possible explanation that he could ever give, the truth; on the other, he wanted to run, yet again, further stalling the inevitable that was this impending conversation by falling back on the easy answer.

Three years. Nearly four. That was how long he’d been avoiding this very moment, both unintentionally and absentmindedly over the course of his entire friendship-turned-relationship. It was borderline cruel, he knew that, to keep such a big part of himself from the woman who very quickly became his forever partner. However, as time went on, and as their lives became more and more intertwined, he still couldn’t find it within himself to say it all. To tell her that the death of Amethyst, of Harrison, meant the death of a piece of himself. That the accident was so much bigger than it ever could appear online, that there were details that buried themselves in his heart, that nobody else ever knew. That he wasn't just his best friend, that he was in love with him.

He only briefly considered doing so when Roman slithered his way back to Providence Peak, when the shoe initially dropped, though he found himself explaining away his string of bad days with vague details of ‘not sleeping’ and ‘Rhia troubles’ instead. Once the run-ins with his former bandmate became less frequent, he simply thought that the need had passed. His ‘sad man problems’, as Phoebe liked to call them, were stuffed away successfully. Of course, life could never be that easy for him, and thus the universe had presented him with the second shoe. Despite the fact that he should have expected such, he still managed to be utterly blindsided by Kaya’s return — which led them here, to him crying like a fucking baby, overwhelmed by this entire day, and completely unsure of what to say.

How should he even start? He stayed quiet for a long while, after the apology, both to process that question and to wipe away the tears until they were only remnants seeping into his skin. “I . . .” he started, lip quivering as he came closer and closer to saying anything of substance, his vision blurry and glued to the floor.

“I think he’d hate me.” He would have hated you for doing this to us. Kaya’s voice echoed throughout his brain in devastating clarity, despite the fact that the only clarification he provided to Aslihan was, “Harry.”

( @draslihanxfahri-bailey )

[kayaduboiss-deactivated20241102]

Kaya hadn't really had any expectations coming into the confrontation. Well, scratch that. She had rerun this conversation an embarrassing amount of times, contemplating every scenario, every possible answer and what his following reply would be. It had been her companion in the past week, when sleep eluded her and she didn't have the mental strength too keep worrying about Iris and the eventual call from an old manager about what gossip column was gonna upheave her life. She would turn to this potential conversation, and how she wanted it to go. Maybe she should have focused more in what she wanted to get out of it, because as she stood there and heard Elijah point blank ask her what he should have said instead, she truly had no answer. She had thought of many, but when she had imagined him saying them, her brain's version of him never managed to say anything that convinced her he hadn't just decided to jump ship and let them drown with the wreckage. Still, she had hope true Elijah, in the flesh, would have been different. That him and his way with words would have come up with one answer that she hadn't thought of, and maybe she could make some peace with what he did.

Instead, she had this. The recollection of his sins posed as rhetorical questions she couldn't fathom how he couldn't see the truth in. "Yes Elijah, that's exactly what I fucking think! That's all there is to think, because it's all you left all of us with! No explanation, no note, no nothing! You decided Harrison being dead meant none of us fucking mattered anymore, and you expect us to empathise with the fact grieving wasn't easy for you?" she scoffed at his audacity. His utter selfishness. Poor Elijah, who had to mourn his friend while abandoning the rest of them to mourn two people instead of one. "Newsflash! It wasn't easy for any of us." her voice trembled for a second, just a second, as the usual tide she's careful to keep in check swept her away momentarily. "But we were meant to have each other. We needed each other, and apparently, you didn't." she shook her head dejectedly, lost in thoughts of those hazy first weeks, and the way she nearly drowned under the weight of them.

As he spoke about how he still was angry, as if he had any right be be angry at them for anything, she frowned, ready to snap back and tell him how little she cared about his self-entitled anger. She didn't get there, because his next words blew all the air out of her lungs. When she recovered, she couldn't help her lips curling into a snarl. How fucking dare he. Leave? Leave?! Jerky motions managed to haphazardly roll back the sleeve of her coat to reveal the ink permanently edged into her skin. "I couldn't fucking leave. This meant something to me, and it meant everything to him." she could see the trembling of her clenched fist as she dug her other fingers into her arm, under the edge of the first crystals. She was fighting a losing battle against the tears in her eyes, and her voice couldn't disguise that anymore. "I couldn't leave everything he cared about behind. I cared. We were what was left of him, and you broke that. He would have hated you for doing this to us." she finished viciously as the tears finally fell. As she spoke the words she had the realisation of how much that had bothered her, the utter disrespect to Harry's memory, to what he built and loved. To what he'd think of what the Eli he knew did to the rest of his people.

@elifalvey

[elifalvey]

Elijah could tell from Kaya’s expression that his explanation (half-assed at best, and nearly five years too late — not that he would admit to that) wasn’t anywhere near enough, although he was sure thanks to the hole that he managed to dig around himself that there wasn’t any explanation that would be, at this point. He could conjure up any reasoning for his absence, the most simple to the most extreme, and it wouldn’t matter; what mattered to Kaya, and to Roman, and probably to Toni and anyone else that gave a damn about them, was that they needed him and he wasn’t there. And it sucked, because all of this — all of the aftermath, the time spent processing and grieving and every single reunion thus far — could have been so easy, had he just told the truth from the beginning. The whole truth, no details spared, about how he was in love with Harrison and subsequently couldn’t bear that he was no longer there, that Los Angeles had just felt like an emotionless cesspool without their heart around. 

Would that have solved things, in the sense that they wouldn’t be standing here, arguing about ‘right and wrong’ in a situation where technically neither existed? Absolutely not. At the end of the day, he still made that initial choice. He still left, and would have no matter how honest he had chosen to be in the end. That, he knew. However, maybe, just maybe, Kaya of all people would understand, as she was just as wrapped up in Harrison’s tornado as he had been. Only, for her, it had actually paid off; the man of their affections had been in her hands, for quite some time. Regardless, there was a mutual connection between them that only existed within the keyboardist’s mind; they were more similar than they often liked to believe, because of it.

Would she be able to put herself in his shoes, had she known about everything? Would that be yet another reason why this could have been simpler? That, he didn’t know — and he wasn’t about to find out, even if he wanted nothing more than for her to stop talking at him like she did know, like she was the authority on all things Amethyst post-destruction. He was far too stubborn to admit anything now, the information buried alongside him as far as the others were concerned. It would help, but it wouldn’t change anything. Thus, there was no point.

He came close, though, as Kaya’s sleeve inched up to reveal the tattoo that was etched into his own arm. As she weaponized it. As tears began to flow from her eyes. As her voice trembled underneath the weight of her words.

He would have hated you for doing this to us.

“Don’t,” he said instead, firmly, like a warning. His jaw clenched, and he could only keep hold of the strength for so long as his own voice started trembling as he continued. “Don’t you dare say that to me.”

There was a lump quickly forming in his throat and he tried his best to swallow it down, turning to face her fully. If she had been Roman, he would have stepped closer, an effort to make himself bigger despite his emotions making him feel the opposite; with her, he stood still. “Don’t you dare act like you can speak for him. Nobody gave you that fucking right, and you sure as hell don’t get to stand here and tell me that he would have hated me for fucking surviving,” he seethed. “That’s a new fucking low, Kaya. Think about how he’d feel about that — about you and Roman refusing to listen, tearing me to shreds.”

It was wrong to sink even lower, but in the heat of the moment he couldn’t help himself. “I doubt he’d be happy.”

( @kayadubois )

[witchesballad]

tom ellis appreciation: 1/ ∞

[stars-bean]

Doctor Who | 8.08 - "Mummy on the Orient Express"

[elifalvey]

[draslihanxfahri-bailey]

It was becoming a challenge to keep her heartbeat steady as she watched him. Watching him squeeze his eyes shut, how he pinched the bridge of his nose, how he was breathing in that moment… All Aslihan wanted to do in that moment was to comfort him, to soothe him and discover what it was that made him so anxious. When he left that morning, he was in high spirits. Ready to go to the lake and have fun watching the kayak race for her, especially considering he had gone to watch her race in the past. It should've been a fun day for him, in spite of them not getting to go together.

So to see him just a mere few hours later, running around the house like a mad man (she was not prepared to see what the rooms upstairs looked like now), tore at her heart. Especially once he began to apologize for something he didn't need to. "I-It's okay," she spoke softly. Carefully moving closer to him, yet keeping her footsteps and moments light as she reached up to brush her fingers across his face. Part of her was scared that with any sudden movement that she'd end up spooking him. She didn't want to risk him becoming agitated again or over-excited.

Yet, she couldn't stop herself from touching him either. From caressing him, her fingertips gentle to counteract her nearly tasing him just moments ago after believing that he was an intruder, or worse. Admittedly, part of her wondered if it was a good idea to share some shisha with him. Though, she wanted to believe that she'll be able to ease him. That she'll be able to help him calm down and talk to her once he's ready. "Okay." Nodding, she smiled softly, yet weakly. Bringing his hand to her lips and kissing his knuckles before watching him go. Her face falling slightly once his back was turned on her, finally allowing herself to show how nervous she felt without pressuring him too soon to talk before he was ready to. She just hoped that he would, sooner rather than later.

She tried to steady her breathing before she headed off to the kitchen to grab the hookah supplies and preparing it, along with a tray of some food and drinks. She wasn't about to let him smoke on an empty stomach. Though, throughout her preparation, her mind kept wandering to all sorts of questions. The curator couldn't help but to wonder what happened before she made her way upstairs. She smiled at Eli as she led him to the attic's sunroom, setting the hookah on the coffee table and holding the hookah hose out to him. "Guess what?" Reaching into her back pocket, she took out a pack of American Spirits. Smiling gently before setting it on the table. "I found it on the counter near the sink. I think you might've accidentally left it before you headed out earlier." ||📜@elifalvey

[elifalvey]

Once Elijah reached the top of the staircase, he lingered and released another breath from deep within his chest. He wished that he could explain why finding the stupid little blue pack of cigarettes meant so much to him, or at the very least say something more than that he ‘needed them’, if she were to ever ask. She deserved as much of an explanation as he could muster, not only because they were partners (the expectation to talk and open up being more unspoken), but because now she was the one who had to deal with the aftermath his tornado struck upstairs as well. However, the longer that he stood there, half debating on trekking back down to do so, he realized that was once again another thing he couldn't do.

Because if he did, then he’d have to explain a whole lot more, and he wasn’t entirely confident that he could do that, either. Images of himself came to mind, only he was about ten years younger and significantly more addicted, passing the damn things around like candy when he was particularly exhausted from being crammed into the claustrophobic studio space with four other bodies. Images of them came to mind, too, only four morphed into two and he was exhausted just from being around them, cracking open the window in the living room and smoking like it was some sort of crutch that would keep him sane until she went home to her own goddamn apartment. And finally, images of after, where the only thing that stopped from lighting one after the other was Cynthia, who snapped every last one in half when he couldn’t bring himself to do anything else. No, he couldn’t explain all of that. Not now. How was he meant to, when he didn’t even know where to start? How was he meant to, when he'd been lacking the ability to for years?

His hands were balled into fists before he could really realize it, though he forced himself to relax them as Aslihan met him by the sunroom. He took a seat on the couch near the window and once again rubbed his clammy palms against his legs, watching as she set all of the needed supplies on the table ahead of him with feigned interest, an attempt to get out of his own head. Guess what? He looked up, his bottom lip between his teeth while he took the hose from her. He didn’t have time to whisper out a ‘what?’ in response, the very same pack of American Spirits that he’d been looking for seemingly conjured out of thin air within seconds.

He was silent for a moment. Longer than. Her explanation practically whizzed in one ear and out the other as he heard her, but didn’t really process what she’d been saying. Despite his earlier statement, about how it wasn’t the end of the world, it certainly felt as such in the time that he’d spent without — as sad as that seemed, as sad as he felt; it was utterly ridiculous, but staring at them now, there was nothing else that he could bring himself to do except cry. He dropped the hose as tears welled quickly in his eyes, shoving his palms into his sockets in a weak effort to stop. No matter how hard he pressed, though, the tears didn’t stop, escalating further and further until he was uncontrollably sobbing.

( @draslihanxfahri-bailey )

[draslihanxfahri-bailey]

As much as Aslihan has typically loved the Take It Outdoors spring kayak race, she hadn't been in attendance this time around. There were some finishing touches she needed to do concerning the new wing, and it couldn't wait until next week after Spring Extravaganza was over. And with Eli having plans, she was able to get her parents to take the girls for the day, them having Rhia and then grabbing Alex after school. It was fortunate for her that Asli always loved her work. That she was getting to do with her life what she loved, that she got to contribute to teaching more people about history. Especially now that the museum took her idea into consideration about doing monthly limited courses on a variety of historical subjects, with people at the museum, the university, and partners from museums, societies, and universities around the world to teach the subjects they specialized in.

As much as she was disappointed to miss out on the race, she was happy. She was happy that her relationship with Eli was infinitely better now than it'd been this time of year last year. She was happy that Alex and Rhia were growing up, that they were happy and healthy. She was happy that the wing was almost done and could be opened soon. She was happy that her idea was taken into consideration and would start in the autumn. She was happy that things were going better overall at the museum in general. In so many ways, she was happy. For a moment, she could forget that time there where Eli wasn't himself. That things were good, that everything was alright.

Unfortunately, she hadn't expected for Elijah to come home in a frenzy. For him to be frantic and tearing the place apart. At first, she hadn't realized he'd come back home. With her headphones on and in the dining room, she was listening to some music while she worked diligently. Humming along, chin in the palm of one of her hands, the other hand typing on the keyboard. It hadn't been until one of the cats, Oliver, came running to her in a panic that she finally took off her headphones. At first, all she heard were the footsteps and commotion upstairs. She tensed up before she quietly headed to the laundry room. Alex and Rhia never go in there, so it was one of the few places she kept her tasers and knew that the girls wouldn't be able to find them.

Grabbing one and turning it on, she'd been preparing herself and hiding when, finally, she heard Eli's voice. The woman sighing in relief. "Holy shit—I thought you were at the lake still! I nearly tased you, I had no idea you were back home." She turned it off and had been about to put it away when she finally caught a good look of him. The curator tensing up once she saw the look on his face. How frantic his eyes were, how tired he seemed, how he looked like he'd seen a ghost. "I…" Swallowing thickly, she shook her head. "No… No, I'm sorry, I haven't. I can help you look, just… Let me put the taser away real quick." She put it back in the safety box, shutting the laundry and then pantry doors behind her, before rejoining her partner in the foyer. She gently took his hands into her own and tried not to widen her eyes feeling how clammy they were. "How about we go up to the attic sunroom and I start up a hookah for us, hm? I'll add in your favourite shisha, we got hours to unwind until my parents bring the girls home, and… we can just talk. Okay, baby? What do you say?" ||📜@elifalvey

[elifalvey]

Most things that Elijah learned, he happened to learn in hindsight. How he should have mixed that song better, because listening to it in the car made it sound all out of whack; how he should have gotten into the habit of checking his pockets before leaving the house, because then he wouldn't have to ferociously tear everything apart to find the missing item of the week; how he should have announced his presence first, because now Aslihan was staring at him with a taser that could have instinctually met his side had he not spoken up first; how he should have said something, met Kaya in the middle with an explanation more deserving for their decades of friendship; how he should have done the same with Roman, and Harrison . . .

No, no. Fucking, stop thinking about him — about them. He squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose, thankful that his frustration towards the inability to turn his goddamn brain off could be easily passed off as frustration towards this current situation. How he scared her. Didn’t announce his presence and nearly paid a costly price for it. Which, to note, he did feel guilty about. He didn’t want to seem as nonchalant as he did about the kind of instinctual response that he triggered in her, because he did care and and it was a big deal, and he knew that the regret would surface in full once he managed to free up the emotional bandwidth for it, but unfortunately in this moment the guilt was obviously overshadowed by his own problems. Small and rather silly on the surface, but looming over his head like a giant wave just waiting to crash on land.

“Right — I . . . sorry, I should have . . .” he trailed off, practically swallowing his own words as he took the quick second wherein she was putting the taser away to peer around the corner, into the living room as if his missing cigarettes would be sitting right there on the end table. Clearly, they weren’t, and it took all of his willpower to stay put instead of bolt around to check every nook and cranny in there, too. Once he heard the doors shut softly, his head snapped back ahead of him and he nodded. Perhaps a bit too eagerly, like he was attempting to convince not only his girlfriend but himself that it was fine, that it wasn’t like he felt itchy just underneath his skin, that it wasn’t like his thoughts were racing. “Okay. Yeah. That’s, uh — yeah, that sounds nice. That works. I’ll just . . . I’ll head to the store later or something. Maybe they’ll turn up. Not the end of the world.”

There was a smile that followed that didn’t quite reach his eyes, squeezing her hand once in an attempt to be reassuring before he let go. He rubbed the clammy feeling off on his thighs before he ascended back up the stairs, two steps at a time until he reached the top without a word.

( @draslihanxfahri-bailey )

[elifalvey]

LOCATION: Eli and Asli's home, Claret Park.

WHEN: After Spring Extravaganza's annual kayak race.

WHO: Elijah & Aslihan ( @draslihanxfahri-bailey ).

The sound of the idling Jeep rang through Elijah’s ears and nothing else, having sat in the driveway with his hands still clutching onto the steering wheel for more than a handful of minutes now; it was a bloody miracle that he even managed to make it home in one piece, all puffy-eyed and mentally disheveled by the time he turned the corner of their street. Things had been fine when he’d first showed up. He’d been determined to have a good day, spending much needed quality time with Erol as they watched the town’s yearly kayak race commence. The moment that Erol had left, however, it was like it had all gone to shit — with impeccable timing, another ghost of his past had decided to waltz back into his life and now he was stuck, replaying their conversation over and over in his mind. He would have hated you for doing this to us. His knuckles were white — had been the entire drive, actually — and he slowly, meticulously, almost painfully unfurled his fingers in an attempt to calm down. He turned the car off. Released a breath. Shut his eyes as the engine came to a halt and he was met with complete silence. No, no, he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t fucking calm down. As he sat there and tried, the only thought that had reared its ugly head was how badly he needed a fucking cigarette instead, and his breath easily turned into a frustrated groan. The crux of the issue was Kaya, and how easily she and Roman had managed to crumble the walls he’d placed in front of himself after nearly five whole years of building them up, but the inability to process any of that so quickly meant that his anger had redirected in different ways; the inability to find his stupid cigarettes being the main one, at the minute, itching to relieve an almost insatiable stress-induced urge. He patted his pockets down several times when he first hurried back to the car, but found nothing except his phone and wallet. Afterwards, he practically turned the whole damn thing upside down to sift through every compartment — no luck there, either. He couldn’t even visualize them sitting atop his bedside nightstand, like most misplaced things he happened to realize were misplaced far too late. He was at a loss. Opening his eyes again, he finally willed himself to move, locking the vehicle behind him and barreling into the house. He didn’t make time to kick off his shoes, or to pet the cats that came trotting to say hello as he usually would. Rather, he barreled up the stairs and made a beeline for their bedroom in order to tear that entire place up, too. No blanket left unruffled, no pillow spared as he feverishly searched for the tiny blue box he’d been needing as a crutch. As to be expected, there was no sight of them, and so he detoured to the balcony, and then the bathroom, and each of the guest rooms until the entire upstairs had been rifled through. He couldn’t fucking find them. He expelled another irritated groan. “Babe!” he called out, his voice practically booming through the otherwise quiet house as he hurried back down the stairs, searching for Aslihan this time. Undoubtedly an easier task, and maybe she’d know where he put them. “Asli, have you seen my American Spirits? I thought I saw them this morning, but now I can’t fucking find them, and I —” He tiredly ran a hand over his face, into his beard before he finally made eye contact with her once it dropped to his side. “I’m sorry,” he breathed out, a little softer. “Have you seen them?”

[elifalvey]

LOCATION: The Jagged Yard.

WHEN: Late night, approximately a week after the Spring Extravaganza.

WHO: Elijah & Leon ( @leonwozniak ).

Now that they were a more consistent part of each other’s lives, it wasn’t unoften that Elijah glanced down at his phone to find a new message from Leon staring back at him. Usually sometime in the afternoon, shortly after Lucky Joe’s closed its doors, and usually in the form of a voice note — on account of it being easier to air his grievances of the day with his words instead of typing everything out, or something like that. Eli never minded them. He found entertainment in them, actually; it was amusing to hear about how some delinquent teenager who didn’t know whether he wanted plain or veggie cream cheese on his bagel pissed Le off so badly that he needed to take five, or the interesting stories of frequent customers that always seemed to come in with a new installment of gossip to share. On most days he’d offer a quip or two back — because there was only so much he could say after approximately five minutes and thirty-seven seconds of not just any rambling, but Leon rambling, which was an entirely different beast — and it’d start a friendly conversation, rinse and repeat. After the kayak race, however . . . when the voice note entailed too many vivid descriptions of an ‘outrageous French woman shitting on their coffee — and fuck’s sake everyone knows Lucky Joe’s isn’t around for the coffee’ . . . well, Elijah couldn’t think of much to say. Not a single thing, really. Once the note was over, and the only thing that was running through his mind was Kaya, he simply put his phone down instead of responding with anything at all. Which was unusual, sure, but what else was he supposed to do? Laugh, as if he had the capacity to find it funny? No, no, he couldn’t do that. The problem came about when putting his phone down for a little while led to days without conjuring up any sort of reply. There’d been notes that came after that he couldn’t even bring himself to open, much less listen to. And he knew, deep down, ignoring one of his closest friends was shitty, but that didn’t necessarily stop him. Everyone thought he was chock-full of shitty decisions, anyway, what was one more? It wasn’t until he peered up through his lashes as he was tucked away in a booth at the Jagged Yard to find the very man he’d been unintentionally-intentionally avoiding standing right in front of him that the weight of his guilt started to hit him. He didn’t offer a hello, nor did he offer an apology. Rather, he quietly admitted, “I meant to text you back.”

[phoebeyates-archive]

What Phoebe enjoyed about chatting to Elijah about all things with Foster was that he didn’t ask too many questions, but still genuinely seemed to care. That he was fine with the crumbs of information that she felt appropriate to divulge in, and was gentle with her when she discussed her ‘delusional’ narrative over the nature of their relationship. “Yeah! It’s, uh, a really exciting time for him!” For both of them, really. Settled in their little routine, even if the only part of Phoebe that was restless was the lack of labeling. It shouldn’t matter, really, as long as they were happy together. But it did matter to Phoebe, to know that they were on the same page.  The sigh was more telling than anything else Eli could have said. “Sorted is definitely a word!” She agreed as enthusiastically as she could muster. Her smile morphed into one of fondness as he divulged into Rhia’s latest milestone, knowing the infant would be causing chaos sooner than he or Aslihan could know. “As long as she’s no longer hurting too badly in the tooth department! And hey, before you know it — she’ll be up walking!” Which was perhaps more of a nightmare than the first-time father than she intended it to be. When he mentioned ‘everything else’ she offered a soft hum. “Do you think you’ll run into them again? Do they seem to be the kinda person to try and seek you out?” A moment too late, Phoebe realized her line of questioning wasn’t exactly helping the whole ‘forget about it’ angle. “Sorry. We don’t have to talk about it.”

@elifalvey

[elifalvey]

Of course, Elijah knew that there were more complications to Phoebe’s relationship than what he was privileged to hear exactly, bits and bobs that she left out with him trickling to his ears from Aslihan’s mouth from time to time. He couldn’t lie and say that he wasn’t at least a little worried, in the ‘I care about you and I don’t want you to get hurt’ sort of way; he wasn’t a stranger to how easily the messiness of undefined relationships could end up in heartbreak, some of the world’s best songs being written about that very thing. However, he tried to put all of that out of his mind whenever she decided to speak about Foster, tried to stop himself from jumping the gun and being overbearingly protective. She was an adult, after all, and as much as the joke grew on him in the passing months, he wasn’t her dad. Whatever would happen, would happen, and the only thing he could really do was be happy for them in this moment.

“Yeah,” he said with an exhale, mustering a smile that let Phoebe know exactly how he felt about that — Rhia walking — without even having to say it. Thinking about that, though, and the fact that soon enough his daily life would be filled with more chaos than he knew how to handle, was better than having to think about his real, Amethyst-shaped problems. Even if it was still stressful, it was in a different way. “Guess I’m just glad she’s not all that fast yet, otherwise I think we’d be learning that our house isn’t as baby-proofed as we first thought.” Just the other day, she’d been gunning for the cat bowls as quickly as her body could take her, which was merely a testament of that. Before she was moving, they hadn’t been a problem. They’d likely be moving things out of her way for a long time. “Oh,” he hesitated as Phoebe spoke again, taking his bottom lip between his teeth while he pondered what to say to her questions. It was then that she backtracked and said that he didn’t have to talk about it, which he did appreciate, but instead of leaning into the out she gave him, he shrugged. “He, um . . . is sort of the grudge type, so . . .” He forced out a laugh, even if there wasn’t any humor in his uncertainty. “Maybe. I wouldn’t really put it past him to, uh — seek me out to speak his mind, y’know? It’s - it’s fine, though, Pheebs. Forgetting about it probably isn’t the . . . best thing to do, anyway.” Trying to forget about it had been eating him alive, actually — that and the fact that he knew he still had to talk to Aslihan about everything, eventually.

( @phoebeyates )

[dylan-westwick]

She snickered at the very accurate description of the series of events that would happen. It was hard to imagine at that point it would be pretty much impossible to say no to getting another pet. Dylan grinned at the response Eli gave Leda, her other hand was still rubbing at the material where Lysander's back was, feeling him squirm less and less, she was almost certain that he'd already gone to sleep. Dylan was very excited honestly even if today wasn't the day they got a new dog, it was set in motion in her mind. "Well okay, so Theo still says we're lookin', but I say if we find the perfect fit today, why not? But I do think we'll find a perfect fit today, just got a gut feelin' about it." She admitted with a soft smile before nodding at his presumptions of what they wanted for a canine companion. "Yes we definitely want a dog that will be good with the kids. I don't think we're lookin' necessarily at whether how old the dog is, but just want to give them a good home and for them to love the twins and for the twins to grow up with a furry friend." Dylan shared as she felt certain that they could find a dog that fit that description here. "Oh don't worry, I'm sure the groupchat will be full of adorable photos. We'll try not to make it so temptin' for Asli though to want to get a dog too. Unless are any of you allergic?" She hadn't known whether or not any of them were, but hoped that they weren't so that they wouldn't have to take allergy medicine any time that they came over.

@elifalvey

[elifalvey]

Elijah understood that gut feeling all too well, briefly thinking back on the day where he visited the local shelter and wound up with Oliver and Eve. When he woke up that morning he wouldn’t have predicted that he’d be taking home a cat, much less two, but he knew as soon as he stepped into the room where all the kittens had been that he wouldn’t have left without them. Despite his initial apprehension, they were the perfect fit for him — he couldn’t deny it. Even if the situation was vastly different for Dylan, he hoped that her gut feeling would pull through for her family just as it did for him all those years ago. “I’m sure Theo’s mind will change pretty fast once you guys find that fit,” he said. “Besides, sounds like you’ve got some pretty good reasons for getting a pup — can’t imagine either of you’d be able to walk away, once you see the one you like.” If he were any weaker, hell, he’d probably be persuaded. The idea of Rhiannon growing up alongside a dog was a sweet one, and it didn’t help that Aslihan had flooded his inbox with videos of animals with babies from time to time. However, he remained strong, smiling in appreciation as Dylan said she’d try not to make the prospect too tempting with their own future dog. “Thank you, thank you. I appreciate that more than you know,” he joked. “Uh — no, though. No allergies. I mean, we’re still unsure with Rhia, we still need to figure out how to get her tested now that she’s old enough, but as far as we know everyone’s fine. Why do you ask?”

( @dylan-westwick )

[elifalvey]

ON THIS DAY 10 YEARS AGO:

TWITTER — AMETHYSTBAND JUST TWEETED NEW PHOTOS.

( @rcmandaniels )