34B. |raylijah

46

Elijah cautiously walked inside of the building. His eyes widened as he eyed a coroner wheeling a body out—he couldn't make out who was in the bag so he immediately grew panicky.

He jogged up the stairs to be met his various tenants and investigators—it seemed like everyone poured out into the hallway to gossip about what he'd just seen.

His eyes landed on Bertha, she'd just finished talking with an officer. The woman wore her usual rollers and nightgown as she anxiously bit at her nails—her eyes seemed to dart around. "Who was that?" He asked, not caring to greet the woman.

"Charles." She informed him, her eyes welling with tears. He grew silent as he wrapped his head around the horrible news—they'd just spoken yesterday and he seemed fine. He felt a sense of guilt for not bothering to speak to the man sooner; he hadn't offered him a plate recently or brought him a new blanket. Maybe those actions could've prevented the old man's demise.

"I've never seen a dead body before," Bertha admitted with a pale face. She began to ramble as Elijah grabbed her arm—the woman seemed to be stumbling. "These kids found him dead on the stairs, poking him with sticks and moving 'im." She wiped her eyes. "They came beating on the door saying he was dead but I didn't believe them."

She suppressed a cry, looking around at the crowd. "Excuse me for a moment, please." Bertha whispered, and headed towards her apartment.

Elijah frowned and headed towards Rayan's door. It was locked. And no one seemed to be home.

~

"Charles died today." Elijah huffed as Mike planted soft kisses on his neck. He was straddled the man as his tongue traced over Elijah's earlobe.

"Oh." Mike grumbled before kissing Elijah—he tried to deepen the kiss before Elijah pulled away and furrowed his eyebrows.

His mind was elsewhere.

He shouldn't have been here.

He should've been at his warm, shitty apartment in Ray's arms as he mourned Charles whilst they drunk tea and ate hotpockets.

That's what he wanted.

Not this.

He didn't belong here

"I have to go." Elijah pushed Mike off, nearly causing the man to stumble onto his behind. No matter how alike they were, he just wasn't Ray.

~

"Charles died today." Elijah murmured as he sat Indian style on his couch. A warm cup of tea rested in his hands as he attempted to focus on the television—he truly didn't care about any reruns of Girlfriends.

"Sorry to hear that." Ray mumbled, curiously watching his boyfriend stare at the screen. "He must've been a nice guy if you actually gave him the time of day." He plopped down next to Elijah and snuggled closer to the man. He put their differences aside to comfort him.

"It just feels so wrong; we were just talking the other day and I don't know." Elijah rambled. "I guess it just...reminded me of my dad a little; brought up a lot of emotions for me."

"I can't help but feel like I should've extended myself more. Everyone could've been nicer to him or helped him out—I mean, he slept on the stairs and we just...were okay with that." Tears welled in his eyes. "I just feel so damn guilty." He rambled on.

"As sweet as it sounds, it's not realistic and you know it." Rayan frowned. "Elijah, you cannot save or please everyone. Why can't you understand that?"

"I know." Elijah shook his head. "He was a good man. He just didn't deserve to die yet."

"His wife's dead, right? Didn't you say that?"

Elijah nodded.

"Well, think of it as them reuniting in a way. He doesn't have to sleep on the stairs, or be homeless, or wonder where his next meal is coming from. He's at peace now."

"Yeah, you're right." Elijah smiled through his tear streaked face. "I didn't think about it like that." He pulled off the blanket that seemed to be swallowing him and pulled Rayan into an embrace. He felt the man's body stiffen as he attempted to kiss him—the action caused Elijah to pull away and furrow his eyebrows.

"Elijah."

"Yeah?"

"Mike gave you that hickie, didn't he?"