Boring details bit…
Title: Damaged
Pairing: Elijah/Orli
Rating N17
Disclaimer: Total fiction
Notes: An AU set in modern day South London.

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Damaged Part One


"’S not bloody fair," Orli thought as he pushed his way through the thousands of people coming out of Paddington station. Why did he always get lumbered by the rest of his family?

"Oh, you don’t mind do you Orlando?" "You’ve got the room and time on your hands." "It’s not like you have anything else to do."

Well, he didn’t have anything else to do but he still didn’t see why he had to take in some stupid, distant relation that wasn’t really even part of the family. What do you call your mum’s, dead brother’s wife’s son by another man?

And why couldn’t he go to a hospital up in Scotland or Newcastle or wherever his mum had moved to this time?

But no, he had to come to a London hospital and stay with Orli. Who also had to leave work early to go and pick the creep up from the station and he was late and… fuck. The train was already in and Orli had no idea what the guy actually looked like.

He stopped and watched the people stream off platform seven; thousands of people who all had stories that he would never know. Sad really, but he shouldn’t care. Sad was something he was trying to avoid.

Orli had known about Elijah’s existence ever since Uncle Robin had married the awful Silvia, but he’d never actually met him. He knew the guy had to be about twenty now, Silvia would always say that she wished she had a real man for a son, when she ran one of her cigarette stained hands down Orli’s chest. She’d smile up at him, through her lashes, and whisper something about him being all man but Christ, he was only five or six years older than her son.

Just the thought of Silvia made his skin crawl. Why on earth Uncle Robin had ever married her, he’d never understand. He just prayed to god her son wasn’t anything like her.

But first to find him.

Orli’s mum had told him that Elijah was small, dark haired and odd looking. Not much to go on really… Orli scanned the platform again. Most of the crowd had gone now and he could see a little better. Where was the kid / guy / thorn in Orli’s side?

There was a thug standing by the coffee kiosk, mobile in hand, every third word an expletive. Orli offered up a silent prayer that wasn’t Elijah. But no, his hair was too light, even under the bleached highlights, and he was too big and muscular to fit the mental picture his mum had created for him.

A big baggy leather jacket was dwarfing a guy by the next platform. Small, certainly but… The guy turned round. Too African!

This was more promising. Small, dark haired, glasses. Not bad, he had an okayish sort of face, seemed happy as he laughed at nothing. If this were the man Orli would have to put up with in his flat, it wouldn’t be too bad. But again no, Orli saw the reason for the smile as a willowy girl ran up to the man, her blonde pig-tails flying as she jumped into his arms.

Orli searched the area again. Nothing and then; and then he noticed a lone figure leaning against the fence at the end of platform seven, cigarette dangling from his mouth, hands shoved into his jeans pockets, shoulders hunched over as though it were cold. The jeans jacket he was wearing seemed worn and tatty, and not in the fashionable way, his trainers were cheap, probably plastic and starting to split.

Right sort of age, small, dark haired, not really odd looking, although he could see why his mum might say so. The guy’s eyes were just a bit too big, his skin just a bit too pale, but, somehow, it seemed to work on him.

Nothing special, just an ordinary guy; who wasn’t going to smoke in his flat. Orli set his shoulders as he moved forward, this was one thing he was going to set in stone before they even got inside the door.

Orli started to walk over, still too far away to say anything, when the guy looked up. A huge railway guard was storming towards him, fat neck red and bulging between the back of his peaked cap and the collar of his almost-white shirt.

Orli sped up a little, conscious of the aggression radiating from the big man as he pointed and waved his arms in the guy’s face. His mum would never forgive him if he let Elijah get beaten up before he’d even got back to the flat.

Another thing the family could look at Orli and sigh about.

The railway guard was right in front of Elijah now, the words shouted in his booming voice unintelligible but the angry tone clear across the station.

"Hey, hang on a minute," Orli started to say, breaking into a trot. But then he stopped and just watched. "Well, I’ll be…"

Elijah looked up at the big man and something seemed to happen, a change came over him as he flicked the cigarette aside. He leaned back a little, opening up his body to the other man, one foot was hooked up on the fence and his knee flopped out in… In what? Submission? Acceptance? Invitation?

Long dark lashes lifted and the guard was subjected to their owner’s full attention, every atom of his body screamed that this was the only person in the whole wide world Elijah was interested in. He licked his lips. Not obviously or salaciously, just a quick casual flick and the guard’s eyes fixed on them.

But it was more than the posture or the face or even the attention; to Orli it seemed as if a switch had been flicked and gallons of pheromones were oozing out of Elijah’s pores.

It didn’t seem as if Orli was the only one who had noticed. Other people had stopped, mid-conversation, to watch. Some twisted their heads round to see as they continued to walk by, others hesitated, one foot raised confused, as if unsure what they were stopping for.

The guard’s mood had completely changed and now he was smiling, even offering Elijah another cigarette. Elijah grinned, tilting his head to one side just a little, and cupped his hands around the guard’s as he leaned forward to light the cigarette. For a moment the guard’s eyes went to where Elijah’s pale fingers rested against his thick wrist. Elijah noticed, raising his index finger to stroke the chunky gold bracelet out of the way till he touched skin, and the guard’s eyes were back on his face.

"Well, I’ll be damned," Orli said to himself as the guard took a few steps past Elijah and picked up an old, scruffy duffle bag. He put it at Elijah’s feet, said something and smiled. Elijah reached up and patted the man’s shoulder in a best-mates kind of way. Only his fingers rested a little too long, arching and tensing on the spot. He leaned in and said something only the guard could hear and their laughter rang out across the platform.

The guard turned back towards the main part of the station but seemed reluctant to leave, constantly looking back over his shoulder at Elijah. Even from that distance Orli could see the big man’s mind working. Trying to think of more things to say or a reason to still be there?

Orli shook his head, not really understanding why he had stopped to watch, and then walked the short distance over to them.

"Hi, I’m Orlando, most people call me Orli. I guess you must be Elijah." Orli could feel the displeasure aimed in his direction from the guard as Elijah’s attention moved. For some reason he felt the need to defuse the situation and to apologise. "Sorry I’m late."

Elijah’s eyes flicked from Orli’s face back to the guard. "Doesn’t matter, Ray here was reminding me I shouldn’t leave my bag around unattended, what with all the terrorist scares and stuff."

"Yeah right, you shouldn’t," the guard blustered, his eyes still on Elijah.

"Well thanks for your help mate," Elijah said softly, a strange intonation in his voice, as he caught hold of Orli’s sleeve. His other hand grabbed at the bag and he started pulling Orli towards the exit.

The guard stood motionless for a moment, watching them move away, then he suddenly came alive. "You want me to help you with your bag Elijah?" His voice seemed to caress the name, testing it and twisting it around his tongue.

"Nah, it’s okay, I can manage," Elijah said over his shoulder.

"Sure?" The guard’s voice seemed different, darker or lower. "I don’t mind."

Orli felt Elijah stop, and after a second’s hesitation, he turned. He looked directly back at the guard, his smile small, somehow private as though, for that one instant, the rest of the world didn’t exist. "I can manage," Elijah said again. "But thank you, thank you for all your help."

Orli didn’t think such a heartfelt declaration was necessary or even warranted but he could see that, for the guard, it made everything worthwhile.

Elijah pulled at his sleeve again and they were moving, out of the station onto the pavement outside. Once there Elijah stopped and looked at Orli, his gaze very much apprising. "So you’re Orli, the bloke that drew the short straw and got lumbered with me. Don’t worry I won’t stay any longer than I have to."

His voice was… different to what Orli had expected. The softness and comforting tone from his conversations with Ray, the guard, was gone. Now his voice was strong, deeper and more mature than Orli had expected. But with a hint of something else that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. For a moment all Orli could hear was the sound.

"It’s all right, you can stay as long as you need."

"You don’t mind?" Elijah tilted his head a little, a hint of a grin teasing at the corners of his mouth, his smile… intoxicating.

"Yeah, course I don’t mind."

"That’s good then," Elijah rotated away from Orli, pulling his bag further up onto his shoulder. "So where’s your car?"

How did Elijah do that? Orli had the whole speech well rehearsed in his mind; how the flat was really too small to share, how he had heavy commitments at work, hell, how he didn’t want some creep interfering in his life. But somehow Elijah had taken all that and made it float away on the breeze, turning things so that the tone of Orli’s voice was almost begging him to stay.

And he even felt a twinge of guilt because he didn’t have a car.

"No car, but the underground station is just over there."

"No car?" Elijah’s eyebrows went up, scraping at his hairline.

"No car." Orli would not feel guilty, he would not.

"A cool guy like you, good job, your own flat, not bad looking, and no car?" The hint of disbelief and amusement in his tone was clear as day.

"Fuck you," Orli mumbled, but well under his breath, as he moved off towards the underground. "You coming then?" He threw the words over his shoulder.

"Sure, wouldn’t miss this for the world," Elijah smiled, trotting after Orli’s retreating form.


+


They were pushed along the crowded platform by the surge of people till Orli found a space they could wait in. The notice board blinked; their train would arrive in three minutes. Three minutes that Orli didn’t have to try and fill with conversation, the mass of humanity around them wouldn’t allow it.

On the train Orli deliberately threw himself into one of the seats along the wall, conscious that the rest were all taken on that side. Elijah sat down opposite.

As they passed through the stations Orli watched as Elijah’s expression changed and the crowds thinned. Either he didn’t notice the surreptitious glances from the people around him or he didn’t care. He only bothered to acknowledge a few – the middle-aged woman whose bag was banging his knee was rewarded with a huge smile and a touch on her arm as she lifted it awkwardly out of his way. The young skater guy got a, ‘cheers mate,’ and an approving nod of the head as he passed Elijah another cigarette.

When there was no one left standing up and the odd empty seat started to appear Elijah smiled over at Orli. Orli just watched. By the time they got to the station before theirs Elijah’s face had clouded, a definite uncertainty at Orli’s lack of response.

Turning out of the underground station they moved away from the High Street and fell into step side by side. Twice Orli thought Elijah was going to speak but when he twisted his head around the smaller man was looking away, the edge of a furrowed brow just visible.

Well this was a great start, Orli thought. He’d agreed to put Elijah up while he went to the hospital for… whatever it was. They might as well try and get on. After all he had nothing against the guy, he hadn’t done anything wrong, and it was bloody stupid to feel awkward around him.

But somehow Orli couldn’t work out what to say.


+


"Right, this is my flat," Orli said, aware that he was stating the obvious but wanting to say something. "Kitchen is in that direction, bathroom’s over there, your room is down the end." He waved a hand vaguely around.

Elijah had moved ahead of Orli, popping his head around open doors as he went, his eyes wandering curiously. He stopped on Orli’s last words. "My room?" He looked over his shoulder at Orli, his expression questioning, his eyes hooded. "You don’t want me to share with you?"

Orli wasn’t sure if he was joking or not. He had to be joking, right? "No need, I’ve got a spare room," Orli couldn’t quite work out Elijah’s expression, he seemed almost surprised. "Anyway, I need my space. I’m not good at sharing anymore."

Elijah’s shoulders tensed a little and he hefted the duffle bag up again and made his way down the hall. "Fine, I won’t get in your way for long."

"Hey, I didn’t mean it like that," Orli said and he genuinely hadn’t. He wasn’t telling the guy to get lost. Not yet. But Elijah had already gone into his room and shut the door. This wasn’t going well, but Orli had said he’d let Elijah stay, might as well make the best of it.

He dumped his keys on the hall table and went into the kitchen to put the kettle on before knocking on Elijah’s door. At the almost sulky, ‘What?’ he opened it a little and stuck his head round. Elijah was sitting on the bed; bag by his feet, nothing else touched as if he didn’t expect to stay.

"Kettle’s on, come and grab a cup of tea when you’re ready," Elijah looked up. "That’s if you want tea," Orli went on. "I mean there’s coffee and other stuff… If you want."

"Tea’s good," Elijah smiled. "I’ll be out in a minute."

Orli prayed he had some fresh milk.

Elijah appeared just as Orli had decided to get out the half eaten packet of chocolate hobnobs he kept hidden from his mum at the back of the cupboard. His eyes flicked up to Elijah as he put the biscuits on the table and handed over a West Ham Football Club mug.

"Help yourself to most things, just do me a favour and don’t trash the place. I mean treat it with a bit of respect, I don’t want…" Orli stopped, conscious of how he sounded, coming the heavy when he didn’t mean to. He didn’t understand why he was doing it.

This time Elijah seemed to recognise Orli’s half smile of guilt. "You want to write down some rules for me?" The words were harsh but the tone was joking, as was the screwed up smile.

"Nah, no rules," Orli said. "Just be nice and one thing… don’t smoke in here," he added as Elijah’s hand went to the cigarette packet. "Please."

Elijah accepted the ‘please’ and stopped, reaching for the mug instead. Again Orli felt guilty and tried to appease. "There’s a ledge thing just outside the back window, you can sit out there and smoke if you want. Just be careful you don’t fall off, my mum would kill me."

"Like your mum would really care," Elijah seemed to have away of saying nasty things but tempering them by the sound of his voice and the expression on his face.

"You know what mums are like, how they fuss," Orli said, trying for a laugh.

"Not really, no," Elijah looked up at him and this time there was no softening tone as his face closed. End of that subject then.

Orli flailed around trying to think of another. "Have you been to London before?"

"Yeah, a couple of times."

"So you know your way around?"

"Enough to get by and I know how to ask," Elijah smiled, but it wasn’t an entirely easy smile.

"Do you know anyone here?"

"No," the smile went. "But I’ll manage."

Orli didn’t understand. He didn’t understand why things were awkward, why he kept saying things in a way he didn’t really mean, why he was reacting so strangely to Elijah. He’d always thought he was an easy going sort of bloke, the type that got on with most people. Why not this time?

Whatever the problem was it had to stop. He was just trying to work out what to say when Elijah broke the silence. "It looks like your flat’s in a good location, loads of buses, lots going on."

Orli risked a quick glance. Elijah looked surprisingly young at that moment, hair sticking up at peculiar angles, no gel or artifice, just a natural goofiness. The guy was trying as well, best make the most of it.

"Yeah it is. The area’s pretty run down but you can get buses to Tooting and Balham from the end of the road and you can go anywhere on the tube. Just up there," he waved at the kitchen wall. "Are some of the best Indian restaurants in South London." Why was he suddenly doing an impression of the Tourist Board? Still Elijah was smiling, so what did it matter.

Maybe they’d just got off to a bad start, Elijah seemed to provoke a reaction in everyone. Orli’s just seemed different to most and maybe that was what was causing Elijah to feel the strain.

"Want something to eat?" Orli suddenly asked. "I’m famished, I skipped half my lunch so I could go and get…" Orli let the end of his sentence flounder. For some reason he didn’t want Elijah to feel guilty.

"Yeah sure."

"What do you fancy?" Orli opened the fridge, poking around at the contents. "I could make an omelette, I think, or this still smells okay." He took out a dish, lifted the lid and sniffed. "Bolognaise sauce, only a day old?"

"It sounds wonderful," Elijah said and watched as Orli bustled around cooking the spaghetti and re-heating the sauce. When he tried to make a simple salad at the same time Elijah took pity on him. "I can do that," he said, taking over saucepan stirring duties. "You watch what you’re doing with that knife."

Orli looked at Elijah for a moment before handing over the wooden spoon. "Okay, just don’t let it burn. These are the second set of saucepans my mum has given me."

"I think I can just about handle it," Elijah said and for a few minutes they worked in silence, moving around each other with exaggerated politeness. It was broken when Elijah laughed out loud at Orli’s failed attempt to get the spaghetti from the colander onto their plates.

At first it was a half-hidden giggle as he tried to hold it in, but the sound escaped in an open peal of noise as a handful of wriggling worms slid off the fork onto the floor. It was an unexpected sound, warm, rich and much deeper than expected.

A sound that for some reason Orli thought probably wasn’t heard often enough. And he liked it. He grinned back sheepishly.

Elijah laughed again when Orli dumped the fork in the sink and used his hands to unceremoniously slop piles of pasta on their plates. This time it was a higher pitched giggle; silly, girly and quite infectious. His whole face seemed to light up with a smile and it lingered, albeit sometimes hiding at the corners of his eyes, whilst they ate their meal.

For a small guy he sure could eat, Orli thought as Elijah tucked the food away at record speed. "Want the bit that’s left in the saucepan?" he asked. "I’m only going to chuck it away if you don’t want it."

Elijah nodded, wiping away a trickle of sauce from his bottom lip as he got up and helped himself. Orli watched as Elijah’s tongue first licked at his lip and then sucked on the sauce-covered finger. For a moment Orli understood what had so captured the guard at the station. There was something about Elijah, something that you couldn’t quite put your finger on but it meant that you couldn’t seem to look anywhere else. Something quite deadly, almost dangerous, something…

Orli pushed his chair away and got up. "I’m going to grab a shower, there should be some hot water." Elijah nodded as he spooned the last heap of spaghetti into his mouth.

When Elijah had finished he sat at the table contemplating the mess and his full belly. Clearing it up could wait. First he wanted to have a look round the flat and there was no knowing how long Orli liked to stay in the shower.

The kitchen was small and fairly bland but nice enough. Pushed against one wall was the table; just about adequate for four people, if you got on really well. He poked about in the cupboards – the cups and plates didn’t all match but none were chipped or dirty and there was enough food stacked away to last for ages.

Next to the kitchen came the bathroom, steam and the noise of running water were currently escaping under the door, and after that Elijah’s room. At the end of the hall was Orli’s bedroom, the door very firmly shut. Elijah was curious, very curious, but he was also conscious of the time. That could wait.

He moved onto the only other room in the flat. The living room was a pleasant surprise, larger than expected with big windows and lots of light. A big new looking television with a pile of dvds and videos next to it sat opposite an old, comfy sofa. On the other side was a music system. As Elijah got closer he realised it was a first class make, one he’d always dreamed about.

Stacked around it were piles and piles of cds. Orli obviously had a wide taste, there was everything from the latest indie band, through jazz and the blues to a few classical albums. Elijah felt another little stab of something that seemed a bit like envy.

As he turned away his eye was caught by a couple of framed photographs on the shelf. One was easily recognisable as Orli’s mother with a man who, even if Elijah hadn’t known, just had to be his father. But it was the other one that held his interest. He picked it up to get a better look.

It was a head and shoulders shot, with little background to give any clues about where it was taken, of Orli and a dark haired man about the same age. Orli’s hair was cut shorter and both were lightly tanned and smiling.

Their smiles seemed to come straight from the heart and shine through their eyes.

"Put that down." Orli stood just inside the doorway, hair still damp, staring at Elijah. "Please."

He didn’t seem to breathe again until the photo was back on the shelf.

"Who is it?" Elijah asked, rubbing his palms against his jeans. Somehow he felt like he’d made the picture dirty just by touching it.

"That’s Shane," Orli said and Elijah could hear the tightening in the other man’s voice.

"A mate? A relative? Your boyfriend?" He knew it was none of his business but he had to ask, there was something captivating about the photo. Something in the way they looked at each other that made Elijah want to know more.

"He… was my boyfriend."

"What happened?"

Orli walked over and straightened the picture, moving it slightly away from Elijah. "He isn’t around anymore." His voice changed and it was clear that subject was closed. "I’m off for a drink in a minute."

"You’re going out?" Elijah lifted his head, a hint of disappointment in his eyes.

"Yeah, it’s just some friends." Orli didn’t understand why he felt the need to justify himself.

For a long, long moment the room was quiet as though they were waiting for something. Much as Orli wanted to go he didn’t seem to be able to, especially while Elijah was watching him.

At last Elijah spoke, "Can I come with you?" He looked up, eyes wide and focused solely on Orli, his voice almost a purr, dripping blatant sex and invitation.

"It’s nothing special," Orli hesitated.

"Please," the breathy whisper was accompanied by a soul searching stare and a slight push forward of his hips.

"All right, if you want," Orli shook his head as he walked away. "I’m leaving at seven."

Elijah smiled at Orli’s retreating back.


+

Seven.

Orli had said he was going out at seven and it was now quarter past and no sign of Elijah. Was he supposed to just stand here in the hall like a prize plonker and wait or was he expected to chase after the little creep? Fuck that, he wasn’t anyone’s keeper and he wasn’t going to start acting like their mother. It wasn’t the fifteen minutes he was so annoyed about, it was the principle of the thing. If Elijah wanted to come than he should just bloody well be ready.

He covered the ground to Elijah’s room in two long strides and banged on the door, calling out Elijah’s name. It came out louder and angrier than he’d intended and the door wasn’t quite caught on the latch with the result that he burst through almost like the angry parent he was trying so hard to avoid becoming.

Elijah was sitting cross legged on the bed, dressed ready to go, cigarette dangling from his mouth. In that moment panic streaked across his face and he frantically tried to waft away the tell-tale smoke.

"Oh for Christ sake, put it out," Orli demanded, stopping just inside the door.

"Yeah, sorry. Course I will," Elijah coughed through a mouthful of fumes, still waving his hand around in a vague and pretty useless attempt to clear the fog.

"Put it out now," the command was firmer, angrier even.

"Yeah, sure," Elijah looked desperately around for somewhere to get rid of the cigarette. "Sorry, I… " he shrugged his shoulders, giving Orli his best naughty-little-boy smile. All cheeky grin and soft eyes. All very deliberate and knowing.

For some reason Orli didn’t understand the look annoyed him, as did the way Elijah leant back on his arms, tilting his head slightly to one side, looking up through his lashes. Orli could feel a little tickle of something between his shoulder blades, something more than pure annoyance.

"I said put it out," Orli could hear the flat, controlled aggression in his tone but couldn’t seem to curb it. It was a cigarette after all, not the end of the world.

Elijah’s brow furrowed, that wasn’t the reaction he’d expected. He tried again. "Okay, one last drag and I’ll get rid of it," he put the cigarette back up to his mouth, his tongue just coming out to play on the tip, lips rounding and sucking as he reached over to the cupboard by the bed for a dish; deliberately exposing a slither of pale skin around his waist.

He reached his arm higher, the strip of exposed flesh widening, his back arching ever so slightly, graceful and feline, and…

"Put the fucking thing out!" Orli took a further step towards the bed, hands balling into fists. He knew he was over reacting, he knew it, but it didn’t seem to matter. He couldn’t stop the irritation that clawed its way up his spine and down his arms.

Elijah whipped back round, the exotic cat gone, in its place a confused kid. "Hey, sorry. I really didn’t mean to piss you off." And he sounded like he genuinely meant it, like he wanted to apologise, but at this point Orli wasn’t listening.

"Don’t you ever do what you’re bloody told?"

The confused, trying-to-be-nice, kid disappeared in an instant. Elijah’s jaw set and he slowly took a long, deep drag before twisting round and stubbing out the cigarette in his dirty tea cup. He turned back and, very deliberately, blew the smoke out up towards the ceiling.

For a long moment Orli held his breath, not trusting himself to speak. "I asked you not to do that," he said eventually.

"You said there were no rules." Elijah shrugged a shoulder. "I’m not very good with rules."

Orli shook his head in disbelief. "It wasn’t a rule. I only asked you not to do one thing."

"It felt like a rule to me."

"I’m putting you up, letting you stay in my flat, and you couldn’t even manage one simple thing." All sorts of emotions flickered through Orli’s voice. Laying over them all was pure amazement, freezing the edges.

"Like I said, it felt like a rule."

They stared at each other across the end of the bed, eyes hard. It was Elijah that broke away first, and when he looked back his face had softened, his voice was lower, richer, his whole body seemed more open and yielding. Again, very deliberate, very obvious, and almost irresistible.

"I can make it up to you," he caressed the words with his tongue.

"Don’t," Orli snapped. "Don’t do that." Orli wasn’t quite sure what he meant but he knew things had suddenly changed, as though Elijah was trying to play him. Orli hated games.

At Orli’s infuriated tone Elijah went still.

"I didn’t think we needed rules but obviously I was wrong. So now we have one, don’t smoke in my flat and I don’t give a toss whether you like it or not. If you can’t handle it then fuck off."

"Fine," Elijah slid off the bed. "If that’s what you want." He started shoving things aggressively into his bag. But there was a cut to his shoulders, an almost unnoticeable tremble in his hand. And maybe a flicker under the aggression of his voice?

"Have you got somewhere to go?" Orli asked, not remembering the question forming in his mind before the words were out of his mouth.

Elijah span round, bag in one hand, sweatshirt in the other. "What do you care? As soon as I go I’m not your problem."

"Look, I didn’t mean it like that. I…" Only Orli didn’t know what he did mean. What did he care?

There was a long, silent stalemate as they both thought about what came next.

"You don’t want me here, do you?" Elijah said, his voice empty of any anger or the sultry tones of before. For once he seemed like a normal, ordinary guy. No games; he was just asking the question. "I can understand that but what I don’t get is why you agreed to let me stay in the first place."

"I…" Orli flustered. There seemed to be so many different Elijahs all living in the one body, aggressive, exotic, irritating, maybe not as tough as he made out? Who knew. He flicked from one to the next in an instant and it made Orli’s head spin, but this Elijah, this normal man; he was somehow much harder to deal with.

"It’s not that I don’t want you here specifically, I don’t want anyone. I just want a bit of peace and quiet on my own but… well, my mum asked and I couldn’t say no." Orli’s anger had melted away and he wasn’t sure when or why.

"Your mum. You’re doing this because of your mum." It wasn’t a question. "That’s nice of you but you don’t have to bother. I won’t put you out any longer." Elijah bent down to his bag, his shoulders sagging slightly.

"You don’t have go," Orli said suddenly. "I mean, let’s see if we can work something out."

Elijah looked up, a question obvious in his eyes.

"You don’t want me to get in trouble with my mum, do you?" Orli added a smile to the question.

"I guess not," Elijah tried to smile back but it didn’t quite make it to his wary eyes. "So what do we do now?"

"I don’t know," Orli shrugged. "We’ve got off to a bad beginning, let’s start again."

"How?"

"Well, for one thing you promise not to smoke in the flat and then…" he shrugged again. "I guess we make a bit more effort. What do you think?"

"Okay," Elijah said cautiously. "I won’t smoke and I promise I’ll keep out of your way as much as possible."

"I didn’t mean that," Orli said exasperated. Why could he never say what he meant to this guy? Or maybe it was, why didn’t this guy understand what he meant?

"It’s okay," Elijah said. "I know when I’m not wanted." He wasn’t accusing or annoyed, he stated it like it was a fact; as undeniable as night following day.

Orli thought carefully about his answer, he always tried to be an honest man and he wasn’t going to lie now. "I don’t want you to move in with me for evermore but I would like to go for a few drinks and, if you want to, I’d like you to come with me." Perhaps the last bit wasn’t totally truthful but his intentions were good and he didn’t think anyone would mind.

Elijah looked down, studying the dirty toes of his trainers. When he looked up there wasn’t a lot of hope in his eyes, just an inevitable acceptance. "Why not? I haven’t got anything to lose."

Part Two