Engulfed in terror, my eyes sprung open at the sound of an eerie car alarm blasting outside. I was staring up at the ceiling of my apartment, my body lying uncomfortably on the couch like someone had tried to fix me in a sleeping position, but got interrupted halfway. The alarm didn't belong to anyone I knew. It was a bit to the distance, too far to be Dorian's, Sonam's or even Eric's. It still kept going for a couple of minutes while my eyes adjusted to the darkness.
I couldn't figure out what was happening. My eyes were heavy and blurry, but not because of exhaustion or something normal. My skin shivered as it felt and remembered heavy liquid pouring hard. Flashes of red exploded in my mind like the aftermath of a zombie massacre. Pieces of my memory were there, desperately climbing to reach the surface and give me clarity, but everything was too heavy.
I tapped my pockets to find my phone, slid my hands inside and pulled out the device. My eyes burned at the light of my screen when I checked the time. It was five in the morning and I had one unread message from four hours ago. It was from Elijah.
Can't sleep. Are you awake?
I responded, apologizing for missing his text, but that I was awake now. To my surprise, he replied in a flash.
I don't know if you only said it to get me to leave, but I'm free today if you want to go out.
I meant it, I texted back.
I thought about today and what was in store for me. Last night was a sloppy blur, but I wasn't oblivious — something dark happened to me. I remembered Ciaran, but not what he said. I remembered the mask, but not what I did with it. I was certain that as the day started, and the confusion wore off my mind, I'd recall everything that happened, but maybe I didn't want to know.
I'm free today. What do you have in mind? I texted again.
It has to be during the day. Do you care if we do it early? Like around lunch time or even earlier?
I agreed to the date, despite my mind wanting to rest. There was a part of me that wanted to forget what happened last night, bury it deep in the far corners of my mind and leave it there to rot, but I was afraid that if I stayed home in bed, I'd do nothing but think about it. At least going out would keep my mind running, never letting myself think about it until I was ready to process it.
When our conversation ended, I tried to go back to sleep, but found it practically impossible. I laid quietly in the couch, closed my eyes, and thought about anything but the blood. I summoned old memories from my past, like the first time I met Dorian, my first job, the first time someone shouted a slur at me, and even my first relationship, which brought me back to the beginning, to Cedric. We weren't in a relationship, but since we had something going on, I thought of him, and then to last night.
No matter how much I struggled, my mind kept going back, like it was being pulled by gravity.
Anxious hours passed. I spent most of the morning rolling on the couch, restless and sick to my stomach. My roommates left to go to work and school, so I was alone in the empty apartment. I was glad for that. I wanted to be alone while I got ready for the day.
I was in the bathroom, staring at myself in the mirror, wondering what happened to the blood that stained my skin. I was wearing the same clothes I had left in, but I remembered being asked to remove them. Who put them back on me? Who cleaned my body? Did I truly blackout? So many questions, but very little answers. Did I even want to know what happened in those dark hours that I couldn't recall?
I stepped into the shower after getting naked, turned on the water and watched it fall all over the ceramic floor. For a quick second, the water looked red and thick. The hairs on my arms bristled. My heart raced fast. I couldn't get the picture out of my head. As the water soaked my body, the familiar weight threatened to buckle my legs, but I was just barely strong enough to hold my own and stay under the pouring cold.
When the shower was over, and the icky reminders were cleansed from my skin, I dried my body in the comfort of my room and fetched my phone as it charged on my pillowcase next to the wall.
I was disappointed at the lack of messages from a certain someone, but I wasn't going to be the one to cave in. He owed me answers, he owed me so fucking much.
I texted Elijah and told him I was getting ready. He responded back fast, like always, and said he'd be here in half an hour. He was coming on his motorcycle, which kind of freaked me out, but enticed me at the same time. Motorcycles were dangerously exciting, but I mostly worried about the driver and his ability to keep me safe.
My outfit for the day was a safe white shirt with my good jacket on, ripped jeans and these nice dress shoes that elevated my boring look to at least a decent date level. Then came my pretty boy hair. It was naturally straight and for the most part left untouched. I brushed it once and tried to move both sides behind my ears, but one side kept coming undone and moving over my eyes.
When it was time, I exhaled a deep breath and rolled my shoulders to ease the tension in my muscles. I turned off everything in the apartment and walked out with my keys and wallet in my tight pockets.
Elijah was waiting on his motorcycle, helmet still on when I approached him under the burning California sun. He removed it to greet me and his lips formed the famous smile I grew to remember him by.
"Fuck, you're hot," he said when I stopped next to the bike.
"I feel hot," I replied, raising a hand to block the sun from my face.
"Put this on and climb on." He threw me another helmet and I caught it, flipping it around to slide it over my head. Once it was secure, Elijah pushed the face shield down and gave me a thumbs up as he put his helmet back on. "You ready?"
I nodded my response and swung my leg over the pillion. I wrapped my arms around him and locked my hands together over his stomach. The bike roared to life . . . and so did my heart. I was scared, yet I couldn't keep myself from smiling.
When the ride started, I squeezed harder, and I knew that Elijah was going at a slow pace for my sake. The speed just didn't feel like him. He was unpredictable and wild, he'd go at the speed of light if he could.
The motorcycle type was a mystery to me. I knew nothing about vehicles in general. His motorcycle was black and shiny, big and hellish. That was all I knew of it. I was a disappointment to the male stereotype.
At least the intense heterosexual version of it.
Elijah was wearing a short-sleeved button down shirt and it fluttered like a cape against the raging wind, with a white tank top underneath. In some ways, we matched. His jeans weren't ripped though. Our helmets were simply black with no crazy designs, but still had bad boy vibes. I really wasn't one of those, and with Eljiah's unknown, but dangerous reputation, he out ranked any wannabe 'bad boy' out there.
Riding on a motorcycle was exhilarating and filled me with adrenaline. I felt a million emotions as we passed by cars, zoomed through the streets, and even ran red lights.
If we were stopped by a cop and Elijah got into trouble, would I also go down with him? That was a question I should've looked up before I decided to climb on the back of this monster.
The motorcycle, not Elijah.
But if he kept doing it, I might have to abort and jump ship. With everything that happened already, I refused to go down because Elijah couldn't stop himself from running red lights. I had to eventually shut my eyes and rely on the motion of the bike when it turned for a sense of direction. If a car crashed into us because he didn't want to stop at green lights, I'd rather not know and just go peacefully into the dark.
Fortunately, he stopped recklessly crossing the streets, but only when we were closer to the big city. There were too many cops around to be able to safely break the rules. I wasn't a bitch, but I was also kind of glad for that. Elijah was scary, he feared nothing. I mean . . . he killed someone . . . and I was riding on the back of his motorcycle to our first date. Was there something wrong with me? Was this even normal? No, the question was how. How was I so casual about this.
Nevermind that. Today was going to be different. No murder or blood talk, hopefully. This was my second time going on a date with someone — Chance being the first. As nervous as I was, this was a special moment for me. My dating experience was . . . well, zero. And Elijah . . . he was different. I had no idea what to expect and I appreciated that.
I certainly was not prepared when we entered a cute street covered and drizzled in pure joy and colors. It was almost as if the pride hurricane swept through and left behind rainbows. To my knowledge, it was not pride month, so these colors had nothing to do with our gay agenda and the ever frightening plan to conquer the world.
Elijah managed to squeeze the motorcycle between two unevenly parked cars, taking full advantage of his smaller vehicle. I took off my helmet first when the motorcycle's growling ceased and looked up at the building in front of us. It was a restaurant.
This was yet another moment I did not anticipate. Elijah? Taking me to a restaurant for a normal date? He even dressed up sort of nicely — the tattoos covering his entire body made it hard to picture him in anything fancy, but he tried his best and I honestly thought he did extremely well.
But a fucking restaurant? If I took back what I said and expected anything from him, it would have been skydiving without a parachute. Possibly with a fire-breathing dragon from hell. While listening to some ear-piercing metal band screaming about nails on a skull.
"Stop, stop, stop," Elijah muttered, hitting the side of his head with his helmet.
"You okay?" I asked as I climbed off.
"Yeah," he whispered, keeping his head down. "Go inside and give your name, I made reservations. Just give me a minute and I'll meet you inside."
I didn't believe that he was okay, but I could tell he was feeling uncomfortable and needed space. I gave him the helmet and decided to go inside the restaurant, leaving him outside as he whispered things my ears couldn't pick up.
Once inside, a young girl asked for my name and searched through a list. Although the windows inside were tall and wide, the restaurant itself was dark and moody. The style wasn't too specific, it reminded me of bars and cafes, like it didn't take itself too serious. It was packed, which meant it was popular for a reason. Elijah had done his homework for this date.
The girl took me to a booth on the busiest side of the whole restaurant, by a window that had no view because of a tree that blocked it from the outside. I sat down, eyed the tree with its many branches and leaves, then looked back at the girl.
"Would you like anything to drink?" she asked, pulling out a cute little notepad that was no doubt something she picked out herself.
"I'll wait a little bit," I said, not wanting to order anything without Elijah.
At that moment, Elijah took his seat opposite of me and slouched back like he had spent the last ten hours at the gym, exhausted and beat.
"Water," he said, not looking at the girl.
The girl looked at Elijah with a confused, yet concerned face. She didn't questioned it and wrote his order down. I told her I wanted some water as well and she nodded, excused herself, and disappeared.
I watched Elijah all innocently with my arms pressed against the wooden table. He watched me back, his mouth slightly parted as he took deep breaths.
"So . . ." I said, filling the silence between us. It didn't matter that the restaurant was loud with the chatter of dozens of people enjoying their meals, catching up with old friends, on cute romantic dates early in the day. Nothing around me existed while I was with him, but it also made me notice how strange he was being . . . or, well, more than usual.
He sighed and sat up, leaning over the table with his arms mimicking mine. He popped that smile and his eyes dropped to my lips.
"I made you a promise," he said, eyes coming back up to mine. "Can't have a boyfriend if you don't know him." He leaned back again, but this time stayed with his back straight, legs spread under the table, totally relaxed — the complete opposite of what he was a minute ago. "Go ahead, ask me anything you want."
I went for it with no hesitation. Finally a chance where someone might be fully honest with me and not leave me in the crumbling darkness called mystery.
"Why were you sick? You looked like you were dying."
"A few months ago I was in a dark place, literally," he started, eyes glued to mine. "After two years, I was finally rescued. I was in recovery when we first met."
"What?"
He rolled his neck like he was preparing for something big. "Two years ago, I was taken by some men. They kept me locked away underground in some secret base. Like a cave, or a dungeon, a prison basically."
"For two years?"
"Yeah, for two years."
"Why?"
He shrugged. "I was unlucky. They wanted to kidnap someone who could give them answers about—" he stopped himself before he revealed something that I clearly wasn't supposed to know. "The people I work with, they're like a big corporation, sort of."
"Just say gang," I mumbled.
"It's called Lords."
"Of course it is."
"It's a male only gang, but it's really powerful, especially in Japan."
"What about the girl I saw that night?"
"She wasn't a girl two years ago," he said with a straight face.
"Oh, cool. That's nice that she wasn't kicked out then, I guess."
"Unfortunately, it took them too long to find me. By the time they did . . ." He finally broke contact and looked towards the blocked window. "They tortured me for two years. I never gave them a single thing, but it only made the beatings bloodier and the torture all the more deadly."
I swallowed at the picture painted. "Your leg?"
He nodded. "Lords is trying to take care of me as much as they can to repay me for my unshakable loyalty and strength, but . . . I'm . . . not okay."
He suddenly slammed his fists on the table, earning us a few nosy stares. The waitress then showed up with two tall glasses of ice cold water. Elijah took his from her hands before she could even place them down and chugged it down in one go.
"Are you fucking serious about this tree?" he snarled at the waitress while pointing at the window. "I specifically asked you guys to put me somewhere with sunlight."
The waitress opened her mouth, but the only sound that came out were quiet choking.
Everyone was watching now.
"I-I'm sorry, it's really busy today."
"I called a few days in advance," he said, struggling to contain his anger, but clearly losing the fight.
"I can move you," she said quickly, grabbing the two glasses from the table—one of which was empty now and dripping from how sloppy Elijah had downed it—in an attempt to fix the situation.
"Forget it!" he snapped, making the girl jump back as he stood up and gestured for me to follow him.
I gave the girl an apologetic look as I slipped out of the booth and ran to follow Elijah as he stomped out of the restaurant. He screamed madly when he approached the motorcycle and grabbed the helmet, dropping it on his head harshly like it would all of the sudden keep the world out.
"Get on," Elijah ordered as he gave life to the machine. "I can't deal with these places."
I jumped behind him and secured my helmet. When we were back on the road, I let everything sink in. Elijah wasn't okay because of what happened to him. He was kidnapped and held prisoner for two years by some bad people. They tortured him, beat him, drove him to insanity, all because he wouldn't cave in and give them what they wanted. I couldn't even try to imagine what happened to his leg, only that it must have been the most pain he'd ever felt.
It answered a lot of questions, yes, but it also made me understand what he said that day at the bus, about not being normal and how his actions may be negatively interpreted because people just didn't understand that his mind was unwell. And yet, he was here with me, trying to be okay, trying his best to live normally with everything that he went through.
I wish I could tell him right now that he didn't have to try to be normal, that it was okay to just be. He wasn't going to scare me off, not anymore anyway.
I squeezed his body harder and closed my eyes, trusting him with my life and letting him literally take the wheel.
After some time, I opened my eyes as he parked and turned the motorcycle off. We were at the beach.
"I'm gonna ask you something and you're going to think it's really stupid," he said, removing his helmet and leaving it on the seat as he jumped off first.
"What is it?" I asked as I copied him, putting mine next to his and turning around as he walked past me. I smelled the air when I heard waves crashing behind the parking lot we were on, but I first smelled him. He smelled warm and nice, if that could even be a smell. It was cozy.
"I'm sorry about what happened," he said, walking fast while I tried to keep my pace behind him. "I was feeling overwhelmed. I thought that maybe you wanted a normal date like in the movies, but I couldn't be there another second. I think I lasted longer than I thought I would, honestly."
"It's okay. We don't have to do anything special, especially when it bothers you."
"I hate being in the dark," he explained, looking over his shoulder to make sure I was okay. "You know why now. It makes the . . . voices louder. They get crazy loud. I can't work at night, I can't fucking sleep at night, I can't live at night. It's too much for me."
"Is this why we're at the beach?" I wondered, staring up at the blaring sun that started to make my skin feel like it was sizzling.
"Yeah, but mostly this," he said, stopping abruptly.
It was the start of a boardwalk accompanied by dozens of restaurants, bars, ice cream shops, souvenir shops, but the one that stuck out to me the most was the first one — a tattoo shop.
The boardwalk was alive and blossoming with families and children on their rental bicycles. The beginning was less crowded, and eventually my view was blocked by a giant stage far away, currently occupied by some band playing music.
"Come, I want you to meet some of my friends," he said, walking to the shop and entering even though the sign said closed.
His friends? Like actual friends or did he mean his killer friends? I was fine meeting friends, just not those friends.
"ELIJAH?" some girl shouted inside. "BABY!"
Baby? I was intrigued now. I joined him inside and shuddered at how cold it was. I was transported into a world opposite of happy and warm. The tattoo shop was dark as hell — style sense, not lighting. The designs plastered all over the walls were crazy detailed . . . and gory . . . and bloody.
I gulped quietly and focused on the people inside instead of the pictures.
A girl with blonde hair grabbed Elijah and pulled him in for a hug. She wore a dark green tank top with a black sports bra underneath and baggy black shorts that had a bunch of pockets. Her face was so beautiful that I couldn't look away. Her eyes were green and her face looked like it had been sprinkled on by the freckle fairy.
"Aren't you supposed to be on a date right now?" she asked, letting him go from her bear hug.
Elijah stepped to the side and waved his arm at me. I just stood awkwardly by the front door and smiled.
"I am," he said.
Her jaw dropped at my sight. "This is the boy you won't stop talking about?"
He smiled shyly and rolled his eyes. "Why you gotta say that?"
The girl stepped towards me, her boots sounding heavy against the shiny floor. She brought her hand up to me and we shook. She had an impossibly rough handshake, strong enough to break my fingers if she wanted to.
"So you're Lucian," she said, smirking at me like she knew all of my secrets. "You can call me Daddy."
"Oh, nice to meet you . . . Daddy."
"Are you guys getting matching tattoos?" Her eyebrows gave me a judgmental wiggle.
"Nope. No. Never." I shot Elijah a look. "Right, Elijah? Please tell me that's not why we're here."
He chuckled and leaned back against the counter next to a cash register. "It's not."
"Then why are you spending your date in my shop?"
"I want Lucian to pick out my last spot," Elijah said.
Daddy raised her brows even higher. "Really? You want to do it now?"
"What does that mean?" I asked, feeling left out as they exchanged looks.
"I have an empty spot on my chest." Elijah tapped his chest, over his heart. "It's small, but I want to fill it out with something."
"And you want me to pick out a tattoo for you? A permanent mark on your body?"
"Yeah?" He snorted and walked over to the back of the shop, taking a seat on one of those long chairs that people got inked on. "Don't be weird about it, dude."
Daddy and I looked at each other simultaneously like we couldn't believe him.
"You are something, Elijah Mahdi."
I made a mental note of his name and another about asking Elijah before I went anywhere with him again.
"I don't have all day," he complained.
As Daddy got her equipment ready, I claimed the empty chair next to Elijah, wondering if he was actually going to do this and give me that much power over his skin. A person with this amount of tattoos cared deeply about them, and maybe not everyone needed some deep meaning to justify having them, but something told me that they weren't just drawings on his body, that they actually had a purpose, and he was going to let me choose his last one?
"Off," Daddy ordered, tapping his clothes.
Elijah shrugged off his shirt and pulled his white tank top over his head. I stopped breathing when he laid back down, his upper body burning hot in my eyes. The tattoos were seriously everywhere. The art was incredible and alarmingly dark, fitting the theme of the shop's style.
"Where are the others?" Elijah asked.
"We're opening late today, but they'll be here in a few minutes."
"I'm starving," he said, slamming back his head against the head-rest.
"Maybe if you hadn't ended your date so early," Daddy muttered.
"Mind your business."
"I think Kayla is getting our lunch today, you can ask her to get you something when she comes." Daddy sat on the other chair next to Elijah, with all of her equipment ready.
"Did you think of something?" Elijah asked me.
"Are you sure?" I double-checked.
"Positive."
"Okay, well, I could only think of one thing."
"What is it?"
"A sun."
Daddy smiled. "I like him. He pays attention to you, Elijah."
"The usual style," he said, not even questioning my idea, fully accepting it.
At first I was hesitant to watch the needle pierce his skin, but once my eyes saw it, I couldn't look away. Daddy was a natural with the gun, like she could do it with her eyes closed. Elijah looked bored and not at all bothered by the pain.
At some point, more of his friends and tattoo artists joined. They were excited to meet me, because according to all of them, Elijah wouldn't shut up about me. It made me the celebrity of their friend group. Elijah spaced out while they talked to me, trying to embarrass him to no avail. I must have looked worried when this happened, one of his friends shook his head at me to not say anything and just let him be.
Over time, the picture I had of Elijah in my mind changed. I acknowledged a long time ago, since the day I first saw him that night behind the warehouse, that Elijah was not one of the good guys. He seemed dangerous and evil — who could kill another person so easily without thought? Only a monster, a psychopath. But I didn't know the full story. I was just some person caught in the current of a violent hurricane. What if the person they killed was bad? Or even worse than anyone I could imagine? The truth . . . was that I didn't know shit, but I was starting to know one thing. Elijah was complicated, his life was deep, and for some crazy reason, he cared about me. Was a monster capable of love?
"Wrap it," Elijah told Daddy when the tattoo was finished. "I'm gonna take Lucian outside."
Daddy patched the fresh tattoo and taped it down. Elijah grabbed his clothes and slid them back on and hopped off the chair. The tattoo didn't take too long, but it was long enough for Kayla to take everyone's lunch order and come back in time.
"It was nice meeting you," Daddy said to me as we headed for the door after Elijah snatched a bag of food.
"You too," I said, right before Elijah grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the tattoo shop.
I looked down nervously as his hand squeezed mine harder. Elijah stood still, staring at the ocean, getting lost in its calm waves. The section in front of the tattoo shop was empty — perhaps setting up near it was too scary for families. If that was the case, those families were stupid.
Elijah pulled me forward and practically dragged me through the sand until we settled on a spot close to the water, but far enough that it wouldn't touch us while we sat down. We plopped down on the sand and Elijah searched inside the bag, taking out two very large subs and handing one to me. I wasn't in the mood to eat anything, but I took it gratefully and kept watching the blue waves.
"You're not gonna eat?" Elijah asked as he was halfway through his sub.
I peeled off the sticker on my sub and unwrapped just the top part so I could have an experimental bite and not be rude by not eating the food he bought for me. The bread was soft and toasted, there were many different kinds of meat inside, including meatballs, and the saucy gave my tongue a little jump with the spices. It was great, but I wasn't hungry, so one bite was good for me.
"Your last name is Mahdi?" I asked, hoping he wouldn't notice that I only took one bite.
He laughed. "No, it's not."
"Oh? Why did Daddy say it then?"
"Elijah is not my real name."
"It isn't?"
He was adorable when he shook his head and one of his cheeks was round with the food he chewed. He could be a squirrel storing his nuts for the winter.
"My family kicked me out and disowned me when I revealed that I wasn't the perfect heterosexual Muslim son they thought I was. You should've seen their faces when I told them they made me not want to be religious."
"Oh, I'm sorry."
"It's fine." He smiled, but this one was different. It was forced. "After it happened, I decided to change my name. It was my way of moving forward and starting my own life."
"I didn't grow up with religion, so I don't know how that must feel."
"It's shitty. I wish my parents accepted me, but it's whatever."
"Do you have siblings?"
"Yeah, they're more open minded than my parents, so that gives me hope." He took a deep breath of the ocean air and went back to finish his sub, swallowing it quietly before speaking again. "I'll let you see my real name if you want."
"Sure."
He leaned to one side and pulled out his wallet from his back pocket. He looked through four different cards to find the right one and showed it to me. It was an old identification card, from when he was sixteen.
"That's . . . a long name," I said, chuckling when he laughed back.
"Promise you won't ever tell anyone."
"I promise."
"And promise you won't ever call me by that name."
"I promise."
"Are you going to finish that?" He pointed at the sub in my hands. I happily passed it over and he took it with a big smile on his face. "Thanks, I love food."
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[Author's Message]: Thank you for your patience once again! This chapter took me a bit to write, I even started it as soon as I finished the last one lmao. I am the worst. But anyway, I'm really happy that you guys finally get to see Elijah's world. More crazy sht coming up <3 be ready, cause Elijah and Lucian's uwu scene is coming soon (no pun) and it's *spicy*
So one question to you all, are you liking Elijah so far? Because I know many of you don't like him. Or will you wait for more chapters to decide?