[Normally, when Adam Parrish stumbled upon someone curled up in a corner on the Harvard campus, it was a candidate for his Crying Club, where he could offer them a social group, and somewhere to go on Friday nights, and a way to not feel so alone.
This was different.
This was a boy in a leather jacket, face mostly hidden from the world, and he might have been easy to overlook for most -- there was something off in a way that made most people pull away. But Adam had seen it before. There but there was black oozing from his ear. No, not black. It was the opposite of light, the opposite of the ley line, and eventually, if someone didn't do something, it would be the opposite of alive, too. His eyes were gold, bright as metal, impossible.
And Adam saved his life.
Elijah was thankfully still conscious, even if he was a little slurred, black tear tracks shiny on his skin as they seeped into the collar of the white tee-shirt that he'd been wearing. They're on Adam's motorcycle, with the boy's arms wrapped around him -- he doesn't even complain about riding bitch, which he almost definitely would have, were he more coherent. Instead, he just rests his cheek against his back and holds onto him until finally, finally, he can suck in a breath that feels like air, and not corrosive.
When Adam stops the motorcycle, Elijah is a little bit clearer, his eyes not quite as searing as they'd been in the hallway. Where if not for the nightwash that still left trails on his skin, he could have passed for normal. For something human.]
I... thank you.
[It wasn't enough. Not nearly enough. But what else did he say? He was a little scared, if he was honest, but he wasn't. Not about things like that, anyway, so instead he just touches the edge of what he really means.]
not part of the crying club;
This was different.
This was a boy in a leather jacket, face mostly hidden from the world, and he might have been easy to overlook for most -- there was something off in a way that made most people pull away. But Adam had seen it before. There but there was black oozing from his ear. No, not black. It was the opposite of light, the opposite of the ley line, and eventually, if someone didn't do something, it would be the opposite of alive, too. His eyes were gold, bright as metal, impossible.
And Adam saved his life.
Elijah was thankfully still conscious, even if he was a little slurred, black tear tracks shiny on his skin as they seeped into the collar of the white tee-shirt that he'd been wearing. They're on Adam's motorcycle, with the boy's arms wrapped around him -- he doesn't even complain about riding bitch, which he almost definitely would have, were he more coherent. Instead, he just rests his cheek against his back and holds onto him until finally, finally, he can suck in a breath that feels like air, and not corrosive.
When Adam stops the motorcycle, Elijah is a little bit clearer, his eyes not quite as searing as they'd been in the hallway. Where if not for the nightwash that still left trails on his skin, he could have passed for normal. For something human.]
I... thank you.
[It wasn't enough. Not nearly enough. But what else did he say? He was a little scared, if he was honest, but he wasn't. Not about things like that, anyway, so instead he just touches the edge of what he really means.]
That's never happened before.