Stepping On The Cracks in The Sidewalk
One day, sometime during hobbit training, Dom had thrown himself down on the sand next to Elijah and asked, "Are you superstitious?"
"No," Elijah had answered, making a huge show of crossing his fingers, and Dom had laughed and batted his hand away, and no more had been said, whatever it was that might have been getting lost in the noise and bluster and energy of growing friendship and laughter.
*
Not long after that, Elijah had realised something. He was falling in love. Unexpected, but not unheard of; he had been in love before, or so he thought. Long nights spent sitting in his room sighing over some unreachable ‘soulmate’. It had never lasted more than six weeks from beginning to end, and so when he had started to wake up in the night, hard and sweating, he had sighed, dealt with it, and gone back to sleep.
But it hadn’t gone away, not this time. Even after the usual six weeks, he was still aching inside, and one day he had touched Sean, let his fingers linger on full, smiling lips, looked into quizzical hazel eyes, and said, "I love you." Then he had turned and left, not sure why he had done it.
*
The day Elijah broke the mirror was the day that Sean found him and told him that his love was returned. He had been playing some silly game with Billy, throwing a ball around the trailer, and it had smashed into the mirror in front of Elijah’s make up station.
"Oh no," Billy had said, laughing. "Seven years’ bad luck for you now. Oh well, how old will you be then? Fifteen?"
"Seventeen," Elijah had replied automatically, by now used to Billy’s strange sense of humour. Then he had turned on his cutest look and, as usual, got away with the damage, much to Billy’s chagrin.
"Don’t worry," the make up girls had said, chivvying Elijah into another seat. "As long as you didn’t hurt yourself."
He had been sitting quietly, getting ready to look through Frodo’s eyes, when he had heard movement behind him, and had looked up.
"I love you," Sean had said simply, leaning over Elijah’s make up station, meeting his eyes in the mirror. Elijah hadn’t known what to say, but his body had spoken for him, leaning forward, eyes squeezing shut, before leaning back into Sean’s warm, comforting body. He had felt the briefest touch of fingers against the side of his neck, and then it was over, Sean leaving to sit at his own make up station, Elijah working to vanish back into Frodo, even though his heart was pounding with the sheer joy of the moment.
*
"I love you," Sean had said again on Friday 13th, the day he had kissed Elijah for the first time. Elijah had watched as Sean’s big, capable hands reached out, feeling them on his skin, so hot they felt like a brand. He felt enveloped in them, a feeling that frightened him as much as it aroused him.
Sean’s lips had been soft, hesitant, skimming over Elijah’s face, kissing his forehead, his cheeks, even his nose, before finally settling over his mouth, delicate and sweet. Elijah could feel the way his head was cradled in those big hands, fingers cupping the back of his skull. He had felt as if Sean could crush him without a thought, and he had squirmed, and Sean had pulled back, looking at him with hesitancy and worry. Elijah had smiled and leaned forward as far as he could in the cage of Sean’s hands, and they had kissed again, slowly learning each other.
*
"Are those shoes new?" Dom had asked, wandering, more or less uninvited, into Elijah’s kitchen.
"Yes," Elijah had replied. "And no, you’re not borrowing them, fuck off."
To his surprise Dom had picked them off the table where Elijah had casually thrown them and put them on the floor.
"It’s bad luck," he had explained. "New shoes on a table. You shouldn’t tempt fate."
It didn’t feel like bad luck later that night when Elijah, wearing his new shoes, had spent an evening with Sean. Having dinner in a restaurant where nobody else would find them, driving to the shore and going for a long walk along the beach, talking as if they had only just found each other. The shoes had been hurting and Elijah had taken them off, and his socks too, carrying them in one hand, taking Sean’s hand with the other.
They had sat under the stars after that, silent and comfortable, Elijah between Sean’s legs, curled into his chest for warmth, his toes flexing into the sand, feeling the grains rough on his skin.
Sean had moved then, laying Elijah down in the sand and looming over him, and Elijah had closed his eyes in pleasure because although the night was beautiful, it couldn’t compare to what was being done to him by big, clever hands and a warm, gentle mouth.
The stars had been fading and the sky turning to grey when Sean had pulled him to his feet, leading him back to where they had parked the car. He had shivered slightly in the pre-dawn chill as he waited for the doors to be unlocked, and looking down had realised that his new shoes were on the beach, waiting to be washed out to sea. He smiled and shrugged, and Sean smiled back, and it didn’t really matter after that.
*
"Maybe I am," Elijah had said, sitting next to Dom. "Maybe I am superstitious. "But I think I may be anti superstitious, you know like anti matter? Good things happen to me."
"I have no idea what you’re rambling about," Dom had said fondly, pulling Elijah into a friendly headlock. "But I think you’re one of those nauseating people who was born lucky." He had kissed the top of Elijah’s head, and Elijah had sworn at him, trying to pull away. Dom had tightened his grip until Elijah had sensibly quietened, and then released him. They had sat together, shoulders brushing, for a long time after that.
*
The day Elijah saw a black cat had been the day Sean took him to bed for the first time, hooking big hands behind his thighs and pulling him forward until he was off balance and bending down to catch himself, whispering into his ear what he wanted to do.
As Sean’s body had pressed him down into the mattress, covering him and protecting him, he had closed his eyes. He could see the cat’s green eyes staring at him, weighing him up. As Sean’s mouth had touched him and his back had arched in delight, the cat behind his eyes had walked away, stopping to look back over its shoulder at him.
As he had felt Sean spread his legs and settle between them, Elijah had opened his eyes, wanting to watch everything, and the cat’s eyes had lingered in the room, green and tantalising, but then Sean had moved again, lying over him, cupping his face, and he realised that the cat’s eyes were Sean’s eyes, only they weren’t green and aloof; they were warm and loving, with a colour all of their own.
When he shattered into a million pieces under Sean’s hands and tongue, he had seen the cat again behind his tightly closed eyelids, sitting quietly, licking a paw. It had looked up at him and winked, then vanished forever as Sean slowly began to put him back together.
*
After that, he had begun to deliberately tempt fate. He had walked under ladders and brought iron into his house after Dom had told him that "fairies don’t like iron". It hadn’t stopped Dom coming to visit, which was a thought Elijah had never spoken aloud, but he had a feeling Dom knew it was there anyway, judging from the sharp looks he had sometimes caught coming his way.
He had even tried to work some of his magic for Dom, breaking the mirror in the bathroom cabinet. It had worked because Orli had been there as well and had tried to clear it up, but had ended up cutting his finger. Dom had taken care of it, and the two of them had begun to spend more and more time together. Elijah recognised some of the looks they shot each other, and had felt smug and just a little bit superior.
He hadn’t told Sean that he could work magic, because Sean would have looked at him out of those gentle, hazel eyes, and then would have flicked him on the forehead or something equally painful.
But he knew that he could.
*
"It’s Friday 13th," Sean had whispered one night. "Or it will be in about an hour. Are you superstitious?"
Elijah had tangled his fingers with Sean’s, and made a non-committal noise somewhere in the back of his throat. Sean had pulled him close then, and any thoughts of superstition had been lost in whispers and silence.
*
It was almost over. They had only a few days to go on the shooting schedule, and it was done. Back to reality – whatever that was.
Elijah had looked at himself in the mirror, not recognising the person who stared back, unable to see the boy who had arrived in New Zealand through the man who had emerged. He had reached out and touched his reflection, startled at the cold glass under his fingertips.
"Elijah?" Sean’s voice had pulled him back, and he had quickly pulled on his clothes, stepping back into the bedroom.
"I have to go," he had said. "The cars will be picking us up soon, and I promised I would take Beck her CDs in today." He had glanced out of the window. "It’s nearly day." He had crouched by the bedside, reaching out to stroke Sean’s hair. "What’s wrong?"
"It’ll be over soon," Sean had answered, his voice flat. "We’ll have to leave this place and everything will change."
"Some things will be over soon," Elijah had said, resting his lips softly against Sean’s cheek in a gesture that couldn’t be called a kiss. "Not everything."
"Do you want me to drive you?" Sean had asked, turning as though intending to get out of bed.
"No, it’s all right, I’ll walk." Elijah smiled, his lips still against Sean’s skin. "You try and sleep."
He had knelt by the side of the bed, waiting until Sean had started to doze off again, and then he had quietly left the bedroom and the house, closing the door softly behind him.
He had taken a huge lungful of cold morning air, stretching his arms as high as they would go above his head in some kind of strange greeting, and then had collapsed back in on himself, blinking to rid himself of the strange light-headed feeling he always got when he did that. Then he had turned left, heading for his almost-done-with home.
Stepping on the cracks in the sidewalk as he went.
The End
Feedback would be nice