The Initials | Nanowrimo 2023

69| The Uprising And The Orphans

Arden returns to their reserved chambers in room Eleven E after debriefing what happened during his brief exchange with the Fox.

Rarely do things ever affect him personally but something about her fighting style, her familiarity with his and the casual use of his codename. Separately these things are unusual coincidences but together they unsettle him in a way he hasn't felt in years.

He stares at the wall whilst rinsing off the day in the shower, replaying everything about her in his mind, making the Fox his new fixation.

"That's for me to know and you to find out."

It's unnerving chasing a person who knows more about you than you do about them because the roles are unclear until they aren't.

Are you the hunter, or the hunted?

After his shower, Arden changes into grey sweats and a white t-shirt, scrubbing his head of hair dry with a fluffy white towel, eventually settling down with a pad of paper and a set of neatly placed pencils on the coffee table as he sketches out a rough draft of the mask she wore.

He doesn't look up when the front door opens behind him, recognising Elijah's gate simply by the sound of his heavy boots marching across the room.

There were sunbeams coming through the curtains when Arden first sat down but the sun is gradually beginning to set, slowly disappearing behind the mountains, the evening sky settling into a canvas of cool blues, purples and greys.

Without saying a single word, Elijah trudges towards the kitchen area and pulls out a bowl from the overhead cupboard but the rattling of the dish draws Arden's attention away from his sketch, immediately noticing how Elijah's quivering hand lingers on the cupboard as he closes it.

But what really troubles Arden is Elijah's heavy breathing since he has excellent control over his lungs, is in excellent shape, and has trained like the rest of them how to lower his heart rate at will.

Elijah fills up the bowl with cereal before pulling open a drawer and taking out a silver spoon, his hand trembling as he tries to carry the spoon to the bowl, the breaks in-between each laboured breath shortening.

Dropping his pencil and the sketchpad, Arden walks across the room, his light footsteps barely making any sound on the carpeted floor.

Coming up behind a much taller Elijah, Arden places his hand over his, putting a stop to the clinking sound of the spoon repeatedly hitting against the side of the bowl by forcing him to place it down.

Elijah's strained breathing progresses into stifled sobs, covering his mouth with the back of his hand as fresh tears soak his face.

"I thought I was okay to come back to all of this...but I'm not."

"I get it. You don't have to explain."

"Do you? Really? Because we promised we'd be done, all of us!" Elijah snaps, scooping up Arden's wrist when the silver cuff band catches his eye. "You promised we'd never go back."

"And I've kept my promise."

"But you're always one wrong move away from crossing over." Elijah counters, frustratedly rubbing his face with his palms. "I'm always worried about you."

"Why? I know how to protect myself and I always do what needs to be done." Arden momentarily dissociates from the conversation, thinking back on year's long passed. "I always survive."

Elijah's eyelashes flutter as he visibly deflates, the colour draining from his face as he takes a step back. "That's literally my point."

Arden returns back to the room and calmly places the spoon in his hand on the countertop next to the bowl of cereal. "Sit."

Elijah walks across the room and sits himself down on the creaky brown stool after dragging it towards the window, the wooden seat crying out underneath his weight before stabilising, hanging his head low as the shadows of the room continue to get darker.

He gently pulls at the roots of his hair, the gentle breeze coming through the cracked open window swaying the curtains back and forth as he does so.

If left to his own devices he'll end up with bald patches so Arden returns with a black plastic containing a shaving kit.

Holding it by the tiny handle, he places the box down on the coffee table centred in-between the pair of parallel reclining chairs and the sofa.

Arden removes the tiny hairs stuck on the clippers from the last time Elijah's post traumatic stress disorder caught up to him, carefully running his fingers through his head of hair, instinctively massaging his scalp which help to ease him into a docile state.

He proceeds to take his hair down to his scalp, giving Elijah a buzz cut that'll grow out again in no time like it has all the other times before this.

When he's only half the way done, Elijah tilts his head up towards Arden, forcing him to temporarily turn the clippers off.

"Arden, I'm just tired, I didn't mean what I said."

"I do this first, then we can go take a nap." he offers, seemingly ignoring his outburst earlier, their eye contact wavering as he does so.

Elijah eventually nods his head, slowly turning back around after whispering his reply of understanding. "Okay."

"Okay." Arden echoes in the same wispy tone, stroking Elijah's soft head of hair before continuing to cleave it all away.