Tangible (Yandere Elijah Kamski x Reader)

Twenty-Six

"Man of the Century?" Leaning over on the sofa, elbows on his knees, Elijah stared at the floor through the glass coffee table. The drink in his hand was momentarily forgotten when you approached him with the news.

"Yes, Elijah; Century Magazine has requested an exclusive interview with you." There wasn't much of a reaction on his part, which no longer surprised you.

His long hair hung down, partially shielding his face from your view and vice versa. But Eli did lift his head, gazing at you intently. "... isn't there someone else to take that title?"

"It was a unanimous decision, I'm told."

"... I don't feel like I earned it." That you did not respond to, taking a small step closer. Enough to pull the drink out of his grasp, at least. "... when is the interview?"

"This coming Thursday," you replied promptly. "At eleven in the morning. They requested to hold the interview here."

"Oh." The male's reaction time was delayed, either out of apathy or intoxication. Probably both. "Will you--"

"I have everything taken care of already. You need only be awake and alert," you added carefully. Alert was a gentler way to say sober.

Elijah paused for a long minute. His throat closed, forced to turn his face away until he could keep his expression in check. ".......... h-has... I mean, have you... heard from....?"

Keeping your own frown to yourself, you laid a hand on his shoulder. A shoulder that felt much too thin to be healthy. "You know the answer has not changed."

"Vi, I know you're still talking to him. I appreciate that you're trying not to make a huge deal out of it, but..." No longer able to hold them back, the tears fell from those azure eyes. "... I ruined everything. I... I miss him so fucking much..." he whispered before finally succumbing to the upset.

Gentle hands cupped Eli's face, turning him to face you. "I am sorry, Elijah. But everything remains the same, like my response: you must bury your pride and self-loathing."

Wrenching out of your hold the male got to his feet, unsteady. "He won't... h-he won't want to see me like this."

Letting him take a few awkward steps away, you spoke up: "Nor do I."

Stopping in his tracks, you soaked in the sight of what four years of heavy drinking had done to the young male. He hadn't even hit 30, but he looked closer to a corpse than ever. The cameras masked most of him, of course; his face was thin, but not nearly as startling as his body.

[No, I cannot stand back and watch him do this any longer. After the interview...]

"So then why are you still here?" Elijah's words cut through your thought process.

LED a solid yellow, you had to look away; you did not like how the human stared at you. "Because I still care."

His gait was uneven and a little slow, but your creator approached you at last, hands held out. You stared right into those blue eyes for a second before accepting his offering. Eli's bottom lip shook, seeing his very first creation looking up at him with something remarkably like pity. "... I'm a goddamn fool," he repeated in a whisper. He could barely manage that volume alone.

"You have lost yourself," came your soft reply. You could almost feel the bones in his fingers grinding as his hands shifted in your hold. "... I ask permission to be honest, Elijah."

He blinked at you, expression blank. "Vi, you never needed permission to be honest. You... do you.... h-have I gotten that bad...?"

"I did not want to upset you further, so I have held my words back."