Stolen Voices ✓

July 2nd

He isn't ready for that.

But the other part of him wants to understand. If she feels their relationship as heavy as he does, she can't easily just  walk away. He feels drawn to her like their hearts are connected by strings, they can only stray such a distance before being tugged to one another.

He makes it to the top of the staircase with a shallow inhalation, walking to the room that holds all secrets. He knocks quietly at first before his fists become more urgent. Making sure she is listening, hearing every word he whispered.

"Please let me in, Mara," he murmurs against the door. One of his hands holds onto the locked door handle, his other palm flattening against the door surface. His heartbeat is so fast he can hear it in his ears, his stomach twisting in anxiety.

His knee bounces as he squeezes his eyes shut.

He's met by stillness, sinking to the floor with his back planted against the wall. He bangs his head back a few times, welcoming the pain. His one hand, still resting on the doorknob, waiting for her to turn it. Rubbing away the sleep from his eyes, purplish bruises appear beneath them. He must look pathetic, talking to a door, not even sure Mara is listening.

"I'm sorry, for whatever I did. Please, just let me in," he whispers again, reminding Mara that he isn't gone. He plans on waiting here until she lets him in or got kicks out. Whatever comes first.

"Please-" he whispers again beggingly, cut off by the door swinging open. The blast of wind hits his face as he sits up more, his brown eyes wide. Mara persists in the opening, her arms crossed over her chest accusingly. She looks much better than he did, her hair brushed out, her nails freshly polished green.

Essentially too put together, he is used to her being cluttered. Her nails are usually chipped and bit down into stubs, her hair almost always disordered and curly. Her clothing never looks as pressed as they do now, starch clean and benign.

"Your complaining is giving me a headache," she groans. Rubbing her temples as if proving to Elias what she's saying is true. Taking in his now rigid frame, she smiles lightly, the ice in her heart melting at the sight of him.

She missed him. A lot.

"It worked though," Elias beams, standing up shyly. Mara shrugs, agreeing with him as she gives him enough room to step in. Effectively, she locks the door behind him, the click of it making him flinch. He ignores the building in his chest, just happy enough she let him into her room.

His eyes dart to the walls, sucking in a breath of shock. It looks like a meltdown was thrown against the light pink drywall. Practically as if it is screaming at him, he takes a step away from it, afraid it will swallow him into its inkness.

He's taken back by the words that encompass him, the entropy painted in the brash strokes of her brush. The room feels like it was closing in on him, he feels feverish, loosening his collar as his throat goes dry. When he looks over to Mara, she appears unconcerned, sitting back down at her desk chair. She spins in it a few times, ignoring him completely. 

With her back to him, it allows him to stare at her. She seems collected, almost too relaxed. The Mara he knows is a raging storm of character. But here, she seems a completely different person. Innocent, that's what he realizes, she seems almost too dreamy.

"Your staring is creepy," she looks back over at him, her crazed eyes focusing on the bag he holds in her hands. That never changed, the drama coated behind her irises. Her eyes remain the one thing he recognizes, so he focuses on them and not her.

He smiles smugly, drawing his attention from the yelling walls back to the girl who sheds calmness in undulating waves.

"Beautiful things catch my attention," he smirks, falling on her bed. The sheets are messed up, clothing littering her floors. Like a tornado has run through here, the room is in complete disorder. He ignores it, though, tossing his bag towards the open closet.

"Cheesy," she wanders over to him, falling in place next to him on the bed. He turns to look at her as she does the same, their warm breathing fanning each other's lips. Their eyes were so close that he has to focus on one, his hands running up and down her arms slowly.

He sees it then, the fresh scars on her wrists. They are covered in bandages but right away he knows what they were. His eyes dart from her arms to her eyes. Opening his mouth to speak, she shakes her head no. Silencing him, she doesn't want him to ask questions she wouldn't be able to answer.

"No talking," she whispers against his lips, and then she's kissing him. It is a heavy kiss, almost passive as her lips take over. Elias had missed the taste of her, her lips sweet like candy, he is addicted to them.

But this kiss feels wrong, like she is distracting him from the more powerful subjects. She doesn't want him to ask because she wouldn't have an answer he would like. So she kisses him harder, drawing his lips between her teasingly.

He wants to ask, but he is afraid she'd let go again. So he falls under her spell and lets her quiet him with her lips. He grew easily distracted as she rolled over top, straddling his hips. He sighs into her mouth, grabbing the back of her neck to keep her in place. Afraid that if he lets go of her, she'll disappear.

She is slipping out of his grasp so he holds her closer to him. Their chests pressed together as their heartbeats match at a quick pace. He doesn't let go of her even after the kiss slows down, she nestles into his warmness.

"I told them I'm not going back," she whispers into the obscurity. It is nighttime, with only limited light fanning the room, they are utterly wrapped up together. They speak into the darkness, both of them feeling the weight of sleep pulling them down.

"Back where," he murmurs against her neck, rubbing his nose over her soft skin. His arms coil around her waist, pressing her closer to him, holding onto her as an anchor.

Saving each other from drowning, he is the hand reaching out to her. She is the one dragging him to the shallow end.

"The hospital. I'm happy, and they just want to send me back. To get rid of me, make me someone else's problem. I'm not going back," her temper is harsh. Elias runs his hands up her sides, trying to calm her, it works. She puffs out a breath, holding her hands over his.

"I won't send you back," he shakes his head. Her fingers twine into his hair, playing with the ends of it caringly. She smiles, even though he can't see, ducking down her chin so she can look at him. His eyes are closed, his breathing level as sleep catches up with him.

"Promise?" she mutters, closing her own eyes with the overpowering tiredness. Elias hums softly. He knows that if he doesn't promise the last bit of her he holds onto will slip away for good. Mara is hard on trusting, and here she is, putting all of her faith in him. Exposing herself, and Elias, to be hurt.

So biting back the words he can't say, he nods his head.

"I promise."

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Authors Note:

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- Nia

Edited 4/4/22