Work Text:
Elliott walked briskly through the corridor, about two steps from running. Last night had not shaped up to what he had hoped it would be and it showed, now that he was late. He thought that perhaps he needed to make some adjustments in his life since this was starting to become his usual habit: staying up late all night to manage his roommate’s and his friends’ endeavors and then staying up even later to get all his work done, and then staying up even later to write. The hours he spent actually sleeping each night were dwindling rapidly, and it was very clearly taking its toll on his life.
Fortunately enough, this day paid him a small, if jarring mercy by waking him up with the lovely sounds of extremely loud music coming from a couple of dorms over. Due to this loud awakening, he calculated that at his brisk half-walk half-run pace he should make it to his class only a couple of minutes late, which was more than he could say for yesterday.
Upon his arrival, he found the room as it usually was, packed with people who were all much more awake than him. When he started in this particular class last year, he had been one of the students who were always wide awake in the front, ready to do every scrap of work they could to impress the professor, but as his second year began and he moved in with his friend, he slowly migrated towards the middle, not quite all the way in the back, but if he continued at this pace it was sure to happen soon.
The professor took a long look at him when he entered, then stole a brief glimpse at his watch, gave a light sigh, and turned back to his lecture. As a former star pupil, being sighed at felt like a cruel punishment, and he felt the guilt of being late once again down to his very core. Unfortunately though, it was something he was starting to get used to as this happened in every class he had. He quickly ducked his head and made his way to his usual seat, pulling out the mountains of work he had to get done while simultaneously collecting more.
As his class wore on, he found himself reflecting on the situation last night. His friend and roommate, Milo, certainly had an affinity for doing strange, destructive things, and last night he chose to wander around the city drunk with a few of his friends. Elliott didn’t want to have any part in it, but he was also aware that if he didn’t, somebody could very potentially end up horribly injured or killed, so he decided to sacrifice his night making sure that didn’t happen, because despite the inevitable annoyance and grief this would cause him, Milo was still his friend and he didn’t want to see him too badly injured.
Either way, the night before had been hectic, as he was the designated driver at all times, and Milo and his friends stayed out much later than Elliott would have hoped, which caused him to lose much precious time that he should have been working with. Not to say he wasn’t trying to work, but attempting to argue a fake divorce case, a cease and desist, and a homicide while cramped in the front of a car, precariously balancing a laptop on the center console and using an old cereal box as a clipboard on a steering wheel while rain leaks in slightly from the driver’s side window which is incapable of closing all the way after a situation involving a cheese grater (no, Elliott still does not understand), he was admittedly not the most productive he’d ever been. And when Milo and his friends had finally decided to finish up their night on the town and he and Elliott returned to their shoebox dorm, Elliott discovered that the window had been left open and the rain had swept in and drenched a bunch of very important papers for some of his other classes, so he spent the next hour or so drying them to the best of his ability with a hair dryer while Milo vomited up his guts and then knocked out cold five feet away from him, and then, after all of that, he still had even more work to get done, and after wrangling all of that he discovered that it was dawn, and in a tired stupor, he decided to forego his favourite and only truly redeemable part of his routine: his writing. Even so, he still managed to fall asleep at his desk, which accounted for a new kind of dull ache in his spine to add to his growing collection of random sharp back pains.
He had really fallen far from where he used to be.
His class had finally reached its end, but as he was leaving he was suddenly stopped.
“Elliott, may I have a moment?”
The professor. Elliott knew what was to come well, he had been anticipating it for a while, but he hadn’t wanted it to come. He turned to address him.
“Of course, sir, what is the issue?”
He thought it was maybe a bit humorous, to ask what the issue was when he was already painfully aware of it.
“You have been consistently late to my classes for about two weeks now.”
The professor eyed him carefully and Elliott quickly pulled a response together.
“Yes, I take full accountability for that and I apologize.”
Elliott cringed at the words, knowing that they meant practically nothing. His discomfort grew as the professor turned around and walked over to his board and continued.
“You used to be one of my best students… I was convinced you were going to be extremely successful, especially given the family you come from, but if you’re going to continue down the path that
you are, I can’t guarantee that for you… or even that you will continue to have your spot in this class,” he turned to his desk and shuffled some papers around while Elliott stood glued to his spot by the door. “This is a very prestigious institute that you have the privilege of studying at, and that means it is hard, rigorous work that requires a lot of determination, but I just don’t see that in you anymore. If you continue with this, I’ll have no choice but to bring this to your advisor and have her submit you for expulsion. I’m giving you until the winter break in a month to clean this up,” he looked up at Elliott from his papers with a pained expression, “Elliott, please get it together. If you fail, it doesn’t just reflect poorly on you, it reflects upon myself and your family as well. Be sure to remember that.”
With an awkward and suffering silence that dragged out a mile, Elliott gave a quick nod and turned right out the door. He knew that he'd had been slipping from the graces he used to hold, but he thought he could hold out longer. He realized that had been nothing but dumb wishful thinking, however, because his professor was correct in saying he has the privilege of studying at one of the most prestigious law schools in the continent, and he is wasting his potential while he's here. Or, at least, that's what his family would tell him. God, his family. He hadn't been contacted by any of them since his Spring break, in which he made an "unsavory" comment towards his cousin, Joseph. After that, he had been cut off from communication because he wasn't holding up "the standards that are expected of members of this family," according to his mother, and that contributed to the fact that he had been struggling to keep himself motivated to complete his work. He imagined that, despite the clear grudge they held towards him now, they still believe he’s the perfect student that he was the last time they had met, and Elliott is deeply afraid that they’ll find out what has happened to his reputation since spring somehow and banish him even further.
It is easy to blame Milo for this, to say that he’s the main distractor keeping him away from the excellence he was able to achieve before. It’s clear that he’s the one that keeps Elliott away from the work he should be focusing on, that he’s taking advantage of Elliott’s kindness and exploiting him without thinking of the consequences, but he’s still Elliott’s best and only true friend, someone who had stuck by him in Spring even when he was going through what he thinks had been the worst time of his life thus far. However, thinking of Milo’s escapades still annoys him, so he tries to push the thought out of his head so he can focus on making the walk back to the library to do some work, but he finds himself being stopped with a shout.
“Elliott!” He turned to find someone he hadn’t spoken with since the beginning of Summer.
“Ivan?”
“Hey, it’s been a good while, hasn’t it? I’ve missed you at all the Alistair-Wynward conferences this semester.”
Of course, the school organization for esteemed students of law that bring them together to network and collect opportunities. An organization he lost his invite to.
“Truly, it has been a while, and I’ve admittedly not received any invitation to the conferences this year.” Elliott replied succinctly.
“What? That must be some kind of mistake, you’re almost glowing with potential! If you weren’t a semester behind me I would be worried you’d overtake me.” This comment that was meant to make
Elliott feel better instead pulled at the corners of his lips to make a slight frown.
“I’ve not been as astute as I would have liked to be this year.” he said sorely.
“You? Struggling? I didn’t even know that was possible.” He flashed one of his signature smiles and continued, “What’s been bothering you, is it the complicated work?”
“No, I’ve just been having some issues with some outside parties that are distracting me.” Elliott thought bitterly of Milo dragging him around all the time again, even though he’d tried his best to ignore the thought.
“Oh, I get it, the outside world is trying to come in through you, yeah? Let me give you some advice, Elliott,” he leaned in conspiratorially, “In order to make it to the top here, you have to fully commit.”
Elliott furrowed his brows.
“What do you mean? I would consider myself already fully committed.”
“No, no, you have to completely submerge yourself, with absolutely no distractions. You have to cut everything that doesn’t have to do with law or this school out of your life.”
“...That sounds a little drastic.”
“I know it does, but it’s what I did and look where I am now. Way back when I first started here, I had a lot of distractions like parties and drinks and the like, but when I realized how much it was
holding me back, I got rid of all of it, and I achieved excellence, and that’s what you want isn’t it?”
Elliott considered this for a second. Even back when he had been near the top, he’d certainly not been near perfection, and he was reminded of this constantly via his family telling him just that; that he needed to be perfect. But this method sounded terribly artificial to him, even though he was practically devoid of distractions in his life other than Milo’s antics and his one hobby.
“I suppose that is what I want… but I’m not sure how I would go about improving my situation at this point.”
“Okay, well what is the situation?”
“My… roommate tends to bring me out on excursions that I would rather not participate in, and I have no choice but to go because if I don’t, I’m aware that he could be putting himself in danger.”
For some reason, this made Ivan laugh, which made Elliott frown even more.
“Oh my goodness Elliott, this one is a simple fix! Now tell me, why is his life your problem?”
“Well, I do live with him.”
“So? Just completely ignore him, that’s all you have to do. He kind of sounds like a-”
Suddenly, a timer on Ivan’s watch started to go off. He lifted his wrist and turned it off before clearing his throat.
“Damn, well I have to run, but remember what I said, okay? If you just ignore this roommate of yours and get rid of any other distractions for yourself, you’ll get what you want.”
Elliott conceded.
“Thank you for your advice, Ivan. It means a lot.” He said this, but he was still very doubtful that this advice would come of any use to him.
“Of course! I hope to see you back in the conference room soon.” And with a wink, Ivan turned and walked away.
Elliott returned to his original track, heading to the cafe to get something to eat before heading to his second class of the day. It wasn’t a terribly far walk, and on the way there Elliott pushed the thought of his conversation with Ivan out of his head and observed the city. The second he left campus, his surroundings went from meticulously cleaned and upheld to horribly dirty and unkempt. Of course there were redeemable things in this city, such as the strong, tall skyscrapers holding down the foundation for so many people to live and thrive. Looking beyond this foundation, however, one can see the industrial grind that seeps through the streets and infects everything it touches. Elliott knew he had never been one for the city. At least the one he had grown up in had been clean, but he supposed that’s what happened when a city catered to the rich, and even then he had never really enjoyed the tumultuous lifestyle that the city chose; he found it jagged, jarring, and artificial. Suddenly, he felt the need to sit somewhere and lament about this in writing, but as he found himself searching for a bench to sit on, he stopped himself, remembering the advice he had just been given, to cut everything nonessential from his life. Maybe he hasn’t planned on taking it, but it certainly couldn’t hurt just once, even if it pained him to ignore the impulse that he normally served.
The rest of his usual day passed by sluggishly, his little energy that he had to begin with had been sapped by the events of the morning. Unfortunately, anxiety knows no tire, and he found himself being chased down and plagued by thoughts of what he had been informed of earlier: his failing status. Initially, the shock of it hadn’t been felt very intensely as he had honestly anticipated it happening at some point, but now that it actually had he could feel himself becoming more and more frantic as the day wore on, despite his complete lack of energy for it.
He was going to be a failure.
The first in his family to even come this close to failing. He had already been disappointing enough due to the many things stacked against him as a child, such as his consuming compulsion for writing and the fact that his mind just didn’t seem to work like the rest of his family’s, but those were things he had grown to be able to bury. Something like being expelled from this university would be like taking his whole life from him, however; it would destroy everything he’d spent not just the last five years, but his entire life building. This was what he was meant to do, graduate this law school at the top, get a highly successful job and carry the family name to solidify their already astute legacy.
Thinking about this in his last class, he felt his legs start to bounce and his breathing rapidly speed up. When the class had finally ended, he all but ran outside, hoping the fresh end of autumn air would calm his frayed nerves, but it didn’t serve well at all. He felt completely dreadful, and his thoughts quickly traveled down to a place they hadn’t gone since he was effectively banished from his family in Spring. He would usually get some work done after his classes, but he knew working while he was in this state of mind would be impossible, however deciding to distract himself would quite literally further his issues.
He managed to make his way back to his place despite the panic he felt, but upon opening the door he found Milo (practically swimming) in the sea of trash and laundry he had managed to accumulate. Even though it had been this way when he left that morning, it suddenly felt all the more real and painful.
Milo looked up from his spot on his bed where he was lounging with a soda and an ice pack, watching something on his phone with the lights off. Seeing this scene turned his anxiety into a sudden anger. Frustrated, he stepped inside and flicked the light on. Milo jerked, quickly shielding his eyes and groaned.
“Jeez, what the hell Elliott, those were off for a reason.”
Ignoring him, Elliott looked around the room, stating plainly,“This place is filthy.”
Milo uncovered his eyes to look at him.
"You woke up on the wrong side of the bed, I see."
Elliott crossed, kicking various cans out of the way, and looked at him, frustrated.
"In fact, I didn't wake up in my bed at all this morning, I woke up at my desk because I was up all night dealing with your antics. Did you have fun, by the way? You were too inebriated to tell me all about it last night."
Elliott could hardly believe himself in this moment. It was completely unusual for him to talk to anyone this way, much less his friend.
Milo narrowed his eyes at him, staring him down.
“What the fuck happened to you today, you’re being an asshole.”
Elliott looked down and away from him, clenching and unclenching his fists, and forced himself to take a deep breath. After a second, he sighed and turned to face his own bed, placing his bag down as considered telling Milo about what had happened. However, he couldn’t bring himself to admit out loud how terrible his performance was, so instead he said:
“...If you’re going to sit here all day then you might as well do us both a favor and keep it tidy.”
Milo stayed silent for a second, then shook his head and rolled his eyes, going back to his phone.
“Whatever, Elli.”
Elliott moved to unpack his things from his bag so he could get to work, but when Milo went back to his phone, he turned on the show he was watching at full volume, and for no reason at all, this was the last straw for Elliott. Without saying anything, he angrily crammed his stuff back in his bag and all but shoved his way to the door. Milo looked up at him, curiously.
“Where are you going?”
Elliott seethed and replied, “To the library, since you are incapable of considering the fact that other people around you may not appreciate you infecting their space. And don’t ask me to join you tonight, because the answer will be no,” and without looking back or waiting for a reply, Elliott opened the door and left the room, just barely containing himself from slamming it like an angry teenager.
His walk to the library was dull, as his anger and anxiety of the day ebbed and faded into a numb feeling of dread. He was exhausted, and knew that even when he got to the library, there was no way he was doing his best work. He thought that perhaps he shouldn't bother at all, but he knew he had to at least try. When he entered the library, he found a spot he thought to be just private enough that he could concentrate but just public enough to hold himself accountable. As soon as he pulled his stuff out of his bag, however, he discovered that he'd forgotten to put his laptop back into it when he was angrily packing it up. He pulled every item out one by one to confirm that it was true, and when it was he groaned, leaning forward to put his head in his hands. He stayed like that for some several minutes in this barely conscious state while snippets of earlier conversations flitted around in his head. He was regretting blowing up at Milo. It was shameful, how angry he had gotten over something so little as him playing his show too loudly, which was normal. He hadn’t even considered simply asking him to turn it down. He was also slightly concerned about his impulsive decision to not join him tonight, as he knew Milo could potentially get himself in trouble if he went out. He didn't have too much time to dwell, however, because he soon felt his phone vibrating softly against his thigh from his pocket. After a couple of seconds of debate, he decided to crack his eyes open, stretch his arms, and pull out his phone. When he did, he saw that the caller was not who he thought it would be (Milo or one of his various acquaintances) but instead his mother.
His entire mind immediately dropped from his brain into his stomach and rocketed back. He answered automatically, without thinking at all, and heard, "Elliott, my darling, how are you doing?"
Elliott didn't know what to do, or say, and briefly forgot he was even on the phone, forgot he was in a library.
"Elliott?"
He snapped back to reality, quickly collecting his scattered brain and answered her while pushing out of his chair and towards the massive double doors of the library.
"Yes mother, I'm here, and I'm doing perfectly well."
"Ah, there you are, I was beginning to wonder if you had been paying attention."
He cringed at his misgiving. A few seconds into their first conversation in two seasons and he was already acting foolish.
"Of course mother, I'm right here, you have my full attention."
He pushed open the doors and felt the cool late fall air brush against him and started to walk down the sidewalk a ways, thinking about how strange it was that she so suddenly called out of nowhere when she hadn’t contacted him in so long and feeling awfully anxious as to why. Had she somehow found out how terrible he was doing and had called to deal the finishing blow?
"Perfect darling, I was just calling to let you know that I've made arrangements to have you come and visit the family over your winter break."
Elliott stopped abruptly, causing a pedestrian behind him to scoff as he walked around.
"You'd like me to come down there?"
"It's already been arranged, darling, you'll be here for a couple of days to show us that you've…improved since our last visit."
Elliott stumbled around in his mind, so much had already happened today; he was about to be kicked out of the school and he honestly hadn't thought his family would contact him ever again and he
was struggling with Milo and-
"Of course mother, I've deeply reflected on what I've done and grown."
Because that’s certainly how he’d spent the last two seasons. Reflecting and growing, not flailing and on the verge of giving up.
"Well, be ready to prove it and apologize to your dear cousin. He was so very hurt to hear those words coming from you of all people."
Ugh, Joseph. He was a brat and not somebody Elliott had ever liked to see. The two of them were very close in age, and because of that they had been placed in competition since the second they were born. Elliott had only won as a baby, learning how to talk and read and write first, but as they grew Joseph always won. He didn’t even have to work for it, everyone just loved him and Elliott couldn’t understand why, and he had grown to severely dislike him because of this. However, if it meant getting back into his mother’s good graces, he would do anything, even something as demeaning as apologizing to Joseph.
"Yes mother, I'll make sure to do that sincerely."
"Perhaps after that you'll show us how far you've come in your own studies as well, I expect you'll be in a far greater place than you were last semester."
He certainly couldn’t tell her about how truly awful he was doing now, so without thinking he blatantly lied.
"Yes, of course mother, I would never let the family down."
"Elliott, my dear son" she sighed, "you've already let us down. I just expect that now you are willing to fix it. Perhaps you’ll be more like Joseph next time."
Elliott felt a hard lump form in his throat when he heard that.
"Yes, mother."
"Perfect darling, I'll see you soon." And without even waiting for a reply from him, she hung up.
Elliott felt a hard pressure in his chest. He had just lied straight to his mother's face and had been reminded of how she favored his bratty cousin to him, and honestly perhaps it was justified at this point. His life was a mess and he was more of a disappointment than he had ever been.
He didn’t want that to be the truth. He had a chance to get back in with his family. After what had happened in Spring, he assumed that this was it for him, that they wouldn’t talk to him beyond the bare necessities, but now he saw that this wasn’t true anymore.
He knew he had to take this chance. It would probably be the last one he would get, given his mistake with Joseph and all of the misgivings he had committed as a child. He had never been quite like his family, not as proper and certainly not as caring for what others thought of him; for his image. But these were the things that mattered to them, and the things that should matter to him. He had to make them matter if he wanted his family back, if he wanted a chance at their love.
The trajectory he was on was not good, however. His heart squeezed as he remembered just how close he was to failing. As he started back into the library, he realized what it was he had to do. It had literally been spelled out for him earlier by Ivan. He had to fully commit himself, with no distractions. As he thought more and more about it, he felt a determination work its way up into his brain. He would rid himself of all distractions; he wouldn't allow a single thing to get past him. He pressed the part of him that still thought this was ‘terribly artificial’ down into the deepest recesses of his mind, where it couldn’t be heard. He squashed any sort of doubt that arose, forcing his mind to agree with him.
It turns out he was taking Ivan's advice after all.
Now he had a plan. He packed his stuff back up from the way he left it scattered across the desk he was at and headed back to the dorm, hoping to everything that Milo wouldn’t be there because he didn’t know if he could handle that complication right now. Luckily for him, his prayers were answered.
He immediately got to work when he arrived, calculating what would stay and what would have to go. But very first and foremost, he was going to have to make his small side of the room his. This meant moving all of Milo's stuff to his side of the room, his trash, his games, his laundry, all of it. Elliott labored, picking all of it up and placing it on Milo's bed for him to deal with as he so pleased. He scoffed when he finished, realizing just how much there was. Milo really did seem to have a thing for infecting other people's space. Elliott couldn't believe he had let this go on for so long. All of the late nights spent driving and early mornings spent cleaning up his broken mess were over–all they had ever been was a waste of time. Milo would fare fine. All he was now was just a roommate, nothing more.
Elliott considered the fact that practically everything he had done for the past two seasons had been a waste. He'd had so much time to make this decision, to pick up the pieces and continue with his life, but instead he had decided to give up. But he couldn’t waste any time with regret. He smiled slightly to himself as he started pulling stacks of paper out of his filing cabinet. While frustrated that he had wasted for so long, he finally felt a sense of hope again. Perhaps this time would be the time. If he could just make this all work out in the next season, they would accept him again, and his life would be perfect again.
Maybe his parents would even tell him they loved him again, especially his mother.
She was the ruler; so much harder to please and much easier to disappoint, like he already had. His heart ached as he tried to recall the last time he had felt loved by her, because he couldn't. It had been so long that he couldn't remember. But he had a plan now. He would earn his spot back in his family.
He shuffled all his poorly organized papers around on his bed, placing any that had to do with his studies on one end and anything else on the other. He found himself pausing a couple times when
he came across these other papers, almost every single one of them being various poems or ideas or short stories that he had written when he took breaks from his work. He struggled slightly to guide his focus back to his task instead of reading them, but he knew it had to be done. He could not afford sentimentality for these pieces. He was not a writer, so it didn't matter if he kept all of this or not. It was a mere distraction to his plan, which meant they had to go.
After he had managed to comb through his entire filing cabinet, he started opening the various drawers of his desk, pulling out many kinds of stationary, saving the worst drawer for last. When he got to it, he pulled out all of his notebooks, around twelve of them as it stood, that all held various dedicated writings. Part of his routine had been to write every night to relax his mind of the stress he had accumulated over the day, and that certainly wasn't the only time of day he spent doing it. Almost any time he felt the urge to, he would take out his notebook and write. This was another way he had managed to waste his time for the past seasons, in fact it had been a time waster his whole life. But no longer. He threw them all onto the bed, and shuffled around the room, seeking out a garbage bag. He quickly realized that there weren't any left, but as he was about to leave to go to storage to grab some the door unlocked, and in stepped Milo.
Elliott was not happy to see him, because of course he would show up right when he was in the middle of something incredibly important, but Milo didn’t seem to share the sentiment, simply gazing around their shared dorm confused.
“...What happened in here?”
Elliott grimaced.
“I was simply moving your stuff out of the way like I suggested you do yourself earlier, but I had a feeling you were never going to get around to respecting your surroundings to that level.”
Milo raised his eyebrows.
“Goddamn, Elliott, what is wrong with you today? First you’re being a total asshole when you walked in earlier, and now you’re pulling,” he gestured around the room, “whatever this is.”
Milo then noticed Elliott's bed stacked full of papers and notebooks. “And what are you doing with all that stuff out?”
Elliott folded his arms, guarded.
“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”
Milo shook his head. “You know I live here too, right? I think you suddenly deciding to deep clean the dorm out of nowhere is at least somewhat my business.”
“I already told you that the reason I did that was because it was a disaster in here that made it impossible to concentrate.”
“But all of your writing shit, were you just like organizing it?”
Milo seemed abnormally concerned.
Elliott scowled, repeating “That is none of your business. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m busy right now.”
He pushed his way through the doorway and practically stormed through the hall, leaving Milo confused and disoriented at the door by himself.
Elliott felt slight guilt. He knew it was unlike him to act this way, but if he was going to get back to where he needed to be, it was what needed to happen.
He continued his path down the hall to the storage closet, where he would find trash bags. He grabbed the few that he needed for his various things and turned back towards the dorm, dreading seeing Milo yet again. However, upon his return, he noticed that Milo was no longer there. His frustration immediately dimmed, and he quickly scooped up all of the things he had thrown onto his own bed into the trash bags and hauled them out to the dumpster. He lingered there a bit, being slightly hesitant to let go of years worth of work, but he steeled himself. This is what “at all costs” means, it means sacrificing everything, and that’s what he was set on doing now.
Back in his dorm, he organized the few things he had left in his cabinets and drawers, and cleaned off the desk so it was left with just a lamp and his laptop, primed and ready for use to work at any time. He stole a glance at the clock on his phone. 12:03am. It was getting late, but with the fervor he’d been in all day due to, well, everything that had happened, which was quite a lot, he hadn’t managed to get a whole lot of school-related work done. But now–in a freshly cleaned distraction-free space–was the best time to get on it, especially since there was an abundance of it. So, despite his exhaustion, he sat down and began to do his work, first catching up on some that he had managed to miss before moving on to newer projects.
He ended up finishing what he really needed to do around four a.m, which wasn’t too terrible in his opinion, although it was ironic since this was about the time he had been going to sleep when he had spent his nights chaperoning Milo. It was different this time however, because he had truly focused and been productive with his time, and now, having finally finished, he could at last get some rest. When he laid down in his bed, he discovered a feeling that he hadn’t felt in a long time was present again. Comfort. He genuinely relaxed. For the first time in what felt like forever, he truly felt hope. For this, he was glad, and he drifted off to sleep in a warm trance.
The next week went by quickly- much more fast-paced than the sluggishness he had previously succumbed to. He spent all of his time either doing work or doing the basic functions he needed to perform to live, slacking hard on the latter but still managing to get through.
Milo had persistently bothered him for a few days, asking about his sudden change in mood, the fact that he randomly threw away almost all of his writings, and his complete rejection of any activities that Milo tried to bring him out on. Once, he had even come back to the dorm completely obliterated, and had drunkenly relaid his night, and despite his attempt to block him out, Elliott couldn’t help but listen to what had gone down, and apparently because of their lack of a sober driver and a clear mind, Milo and his friends decided to drive themselves around, and had ‘hit just a couple of things…no people.’ Of course he was concerned, but he forced it down, instead continuing to ignore his rambling and subsequent vomiting from the other side of the room. Eventually, however, it seemed to become clear to him that Elliott was completely set in this schedule, and Milo stopped trying so hard. He still attempted to ask him what was wrong; tried to talk with him, even asking him if it was something he had done, but Elliott either ignored him or blew up every time, and eventually Milo reluctantly accepted that Elliott had changed.
By the second week of this intense-studying reform, people were starting to notice. His professor had talked with him a couple times, first congratulating him for getting back on schedule and then to inform him that he was submitting a recommendation to get him back into the Alistair-Wynward Organization. Of course he accepted, and started attending the conferences again.
His days had become very simple: wake up, study, ignore his rumbling stomach, go to class, down two or three smoothies from the vending machine, study some more and go to sleep in the bitter hours of morning.
Despite this repetitive routine, Elliott was enthused; he was very content with the way things were going, and he was completely apt to ignore the feeling of discontentment that was growing in him. He shoved it down, made it small and refused to let it surface. He couldn’t afford it, not now when he’d finally managed to right his life again. Besides, this feeling couldn’t possibly be worse than the despair he felt when his family cut him off for the time that they did. He honestly struggled to think of a worse feeling, and because of that he was hell-bent on never letting it happen again.
His continued and persistent efforts were bearing many fruits, including the one he’s most proud of–being in the Alistair-Wynward Organization again. This was especially good because this meant he could create connections with potential internships, which was an incredibly valuable thing. Because of this, it would be that much easier to integrate back into the family life as if nothing had happened, which was exactly what he wished for.
On the last week before the Winter break, Elliott got incredible news while he was doing his work at the library. He had applied for an internship at a Joja law organization within days of being accepted into Alistair-Wynward Organization, and after a couple of weeks of waiting he found out that he had been accepted! He was due to start at the beginning of next Spring. Although he didn’t really want to admit it, he didn’t care much for the internship. The place seemed very…corporate, and he had a feeling the kind of experience he would be getting would be quite morally bent, but he locked these thoughts and feelings away in the back of his brain, forcing himself to be ecstatic about it, and in a way he absolutely was ecstatic! Ecstatic to inform his family of the incredible thing he had accomplished. He found that most of his thoughts led back to his family these days, and it was incredible motivation. It kept him completely in line, especially on the days that Milo hung around the dorm all day and distracted him with his loud shows and whatnot. Elliott genuinely couldn’t wait to see his family again. His excitement quelled the small anxiety deep in his gut that told him it wasn’t enough, that they would reject him again. That she would reject him again. He didn’t allow this train of thought to run off the rails, however, instead using it as an instigator to continue focusing on his work. In just one week, he would be seeing them again…
His last week flew by, and he stayed true to his path, not allowing himself to stray for even a second. Soon enough, it was the last day before the break, meaning he would be leaving to see his family again tomorrow. While he was in the bathroom to shower, he stepped on the scale out of curiosity and found that he had lost a considerable amount of weight in the past four weeks. He supposed he had been skipping meals if he happened to be busy when he felt hungry, which had happened almost every day, in fact he couldn’t remember actually eating anything recently, only drowning himself in vending machine smoothies. When he looked in the mirror he also noticed that his face seemed sunken, his eyes seemed darker; everything about him made him look the pinnacle of exhaustion, but he knew it would be worth it. This was the price he had to pay, and he honestly thought it wasn’t that high of a price.
Perhaps it was even true that if he didn’t have their approval, he didn’t deserve to eat or sleep at all…
He quickly looked away from the mirror and shook that thought away before he had time to actually consider it. He had to get to packing anyway, seeing as he had been slightly putting it off.
He quickly got it over with, selecting the most formal things he had so as to not disappoint. While he was neatly shoving everything into a bag, he found that he had to tuck his hair behind his ear quite a few times. It was getting long. That fact sent a shock of happiness through him, but he soon remembered that this was not a good thing. His mother specifically would not appreciate this. As a child he had always begged her to let him have it long, but she never approved, always having it cut no matter how hard he tried to convince her. Eventually he realized that if it wasn’t what she wanted then he couldn’t have it and that was that. It was too late to get it cut anyway, so he’d just have to hope that they wouldn’t notice. Maybe he could find some pins to make it appear shorter. Either way, for now it didn’t matter. It wouldn’t matter until tomorrow.
He was incredibly nervous, and definitely not looking forward to seeing and apologizing to Joseph, but he was ready to fix this. He was determined to no longer be the black sheep of the family; the one who everyone ostracized and expected disappointment from. He was prepared to show all of them that he truly belonged, that he deserved a place within the family. That he deserved their love.
Since he had finished packing, he decided to prepare everything else. He got his suit for tomorrow ready (his mother would not have him wear anything less than formal), and checked to make sure the plane ticket his mother had sent was within his belongings. There were a couple of other small, insignificant things he had to check, and after that, all that was left was to sleep.
While in his bed, he noticed that despite the late time, Milo wasn’t yet back in his bed. It was the first time he had brought any sort of attention to his roommate in a long time. It was unusual for Milo to stay anywhere else besides his own bed at night, but Elliott supposed he wasn’t really aware of what Milo’s ‘usual’ routine looked like anymore. He decided to just appreciate the silence and try to actually get to sleep. It, of course, did not come easily to him due to the sheer amount of emotions that were swirling around in his head, but eventually his brain was unable to keep going, and he drifted off in thought.
The next morning, he awoke bright and early. Well at least that’s what should have happened. Instead, he awoke bright but definitely not early enough. In all of his rushing around last night, he neglected to double check that he had set an alarm for the correct time in the morning, and as it turns out he had not. He awoke to his normal morning alarm, which was set for about an hour after he had wanted to leave.
Upon noticing this, he leapt out of bed, rushing around to get dressed and gather everything he needed and then leaving the dorm at a brisk half-walk half-run. He had cast a glance at Milo’s side of the room, noticing that he still hadn’t returned from whatever he had been up to, but Elliott had no time to wonder about this; he had to get going.
Fortunately enough for him, the queue in the airport wasn’t long, so the hour he lost didn’t end up hindering him too terribly. While waiting for the plane to board, he thought about how thankful he was that it was only a two hour ride. Elliott absolutely despised traveling on planes. It wasn’t because he was frightened, he just didn’t appreciate how compact it was, how many people there were and how aggravated they all seemed. He found it a very hostile environment, so he was very glad that it was not a long trip down to where his family’s estate was in the south.
His luck carried over to the plane ride itself, because while it was certainly busy with many people traveling at this time of the year, there were no particularly frustrating people. He found himself able to relax, which wasn’t usual for this setting. Soon enough, however, he realized he was bored. He had done nothing but work for nearly a month, and now he was stuck with nothing to do, so he sat and gazed out the window, worrying about what was to come.
When they had finally arrived and he had collected his bag, Elliott found himself hit with a sudden and earth-shattering wave of anxiety. He felt himself physically sway due to the severity of it. He had to press forward, however, despite how much fear he felt coursing through his veins. He was confused at the sudden onslaught, and worked to convince himself that there was no need for this. He had worked hard and was certainly ready to prove himself to them. Yes, yes he was. He steeled himself forward, and out of the large glass doors into the cold.
A part of him had admittedly expected to see one of the various family cars waiting for him. His mother hadn’t explicitly mentioned that she would send one, but he had assumed that would be the case.
He was wrong.
He looked around in vain for a glimpse of the familiar expensive logos, but he didn’t find one. He shivered in the cold (it was somehow colder here even though he was more south), and realized he would have to arrange his own transportation. He decided to walk out of the vicinity of the airport and call the best-looking uber he could find quickly, and when it arrived he hastily told them where they were going.
He felt a sense of dread that he tried to shove down as he approached the large estate. The towering iron gates and meticulously trimmed hedges didn’t help his discomfort. Even though he’d only spent a couple seasons away, this world felt so largely out of reach. And yet he was here, at the house he had grown up in.
He signaled the driver to let him out, and once they had driven away Elliott rang the buzzer for the door. He couldn’t help but notice that there were a few cars parked in the outside lot, which meant that he wasn’t the only one here. Of course, he had expected this to be a family gathering, but he felt his stomach turn more at the imminence of facing the people who had shunned him. No matter! He repeated his mantra, and with that, he heard a voice tell him to enter and the gates shuddered open.
Despite the snow on it, the lawn was still perfectly manicured, the bushes, hedges and trees looking unnaturally beautiful, and a fountain was still running despite the freezing temperatures. As he approached the doors, he kept repeating what he had told himself all day, all season. He worked so he belonged and they would surely accept him now.
When he walked up to the large, formidable doors, a worker opened them for him and gestured to him to come in. He waved at them, and stepping in he felt the clocks of his mind turn back.
Before him was the very grand foyer. Tall marble stairs lead up to a second story with banisters he remembered getting in trouble for sliding down as a young child, before he understood etiquette, and standing at the top as if she had been posing, waiting for this moment, was his mother.
“Elliott, my darling, you’ve finally arrived.”
He stared up at her for a second, expecting his feelings of anxiety to float away as they were supposed to when one looked at their mother. Instead, he stiffened, straightening his back more and plastering a small, fake smile on his face.
“Mother! It’s so very good to see you.”
He stood there for a couple of seconds, expecting her to make the descent down to him to acknowledge him, but she stood rooted to her spot as if she was a figure on a stand. Then, she beckoned to him.
“You need a haircut, dear. No time now, however, everyone else has already arrived.”
Elliott felt a pang of guilt, tucking his hair as far behind his ears as he could (he knew he should have done something about that) and he chanced a look at his phone to check the time as she turned and walked towards the parlor. He hadn’t been late, in fact he’d been earlier than expected because he knew that arriving early was what was expected here. Unfortunately, he’s been out-earlied by every other member of his close family.
He choked back his self-loathing at his lateness and ascended the stairs, nearly forgetting to leave his bag with a worker before the one who had opened the door gestured to him to hand it over. How embarrassing it would have been to walk in like that. He would have to make a more conscious effort to remember the rules here. He shook his head at himself as he walked through the large, nearly cavernous hallway–if it could even be called a ‘hallway’ as it could be an entire room itself. Heading left through propped open glass doors, he saw the sight that he had been anticipating (dreading) for a season now. Strewn around the room was his family: his mother, who was making conversation with his sister and aunt; his father, who was crowded in a gaggle with every other man in the middle of the room which included both of his uncles, his two cousins and his brother; and his other aunt and his cousin who were laughing and chatting by the window.
As he walked in, a hush fell over the room as they all stared at him, his cousin Joseph giving him the most pointed glare of all of them. Instead of succumbing to the awkward pressure of all these stares and retreating to the corner, he straightened his back slightly and addressed the room with a smile, feeling all his worries melt away into the instincts that had been drilled into him as a child.
“Hello everyone, I hope you’ve all been well.”
With some nods and ‘hellos,’ he was dismissed from scrutiny. Of course, it was expected of him to join the men (ugh), and as much as he didn’t want to face his cousin, he really didn’t want to deal with the repercussions of ignoring his mother’s task, so he walked over anyway. He caught the conversation they were having, which was about which equestrian team they had hoped would win and debating the actual winner’s integrity. When he fully stepped into the circle, they stopped talking and looked at him.
His father started, “Glad to see y-”
“Elliott.” stated Joseph, aggressively.
Elliott should have honestly expected this to take forefront, but he was hoping he could put it off a little longer. From the way Joseph was glaring at him though, he suspected he'd have to dish out his apology now.
“Joseph, it’s been a while.”
He continued to glare while the other men in the group idled, pretending to be uninterested when in reality they had probably been waiting for this all day.
Elliott continued, “I know the last time we saw each other in Spring I said some… unsavory things to you, and I’ve come to apologize and make it right.”
“Unsavory? Is that really the word you would use to describe it? You told me that it would be a miracle if I actually completed my doctorate and became a surgeon because of a stupid mistake I made
years ago, and you know that I hate it when people bring it up.”
Yes.
That is what got him effectively disowned.
That’s just how it was in this family. You could spend your entire life without making any (large) mistakes and then ruin it all with just a single sentence to your stupid, privileged cousin who crashed a Ferrari and killed a pedestrian when he was nineteen because he couldn’t take his eyes off of his phone, only to face absolutely no consequences because his parents hushed it up with loads of money (which, admittedly, nobody here is lacking), and have it never mentioned again. That is, never mentioned again until he provoked the wrong exhausted law student by telling him that everything he was working toward was meaningless compared to saving lives by becoming a surgeon.
Elliott gritted his teeth against his frustration and replied.
“I’m very sorry, Joseph, it was wrong of me to bring it up.”
Joseph scoffed.
“I don’t know why they’ve invited you back. If it were up to me, you’d be out forever.”
Elliott glowered. He’d expected this to be frustrating, but this was another level. However, he’d already experienced what would happen if he let go of his temper, so instead of retorting with something that would surely get him in trouble, he chose to ignore the comment and turn to the other men.
“So what was it you were saying about the winner this year?”
The rest of his conversations were dull, mostly people remarking on his absence as if it had been his own idea instead of something that was infringed upon him. He floated through them with polite smiles and attempted to evade the topic, but of course in a family like this, nobody would ever let him forget because he wasn’t like Joseph. He didn’t fit into the spoiled rich stereotype that the rest of his family did, and he knew that. It was why he had to work so hard, probably harder than all of them combined have ever had to in their lives. He had to dedicate himself entirely and forget everything else, including eating, including sleeping, including the only hobby he had ever really allowed himself to have–writing. All because he wasn’t a brat.
As the conversations lulled, his mother steered everyone towards the dinner that they were actually gathered here for. It was tradition: they gathered for a dinner on every holiday and spent the day after doing various obnoxious activities depending on the season. As a child, before he understood the unwritten rules of the family, he preferred to sit the second day out and read or write; he would tuck himself away into an unseen corner of the large estate and hide until the dinner, where he was always reprimanded until he eventually realized that he needed to stop and maintain his image. After all, what’s the point of anything if not for your image?
They all headed to the dining hall, with a couple breaking off to make various stops before joining them. The table was set as it normally was, with his father and mother at the head and everyone else descending. Elliott was normally seated next to his father, across from his sister, but this time he was seated toward the middle, right across from Joseph.
Of course.
He had already apologized, but he suspected his mother wanted him to be literally faced with the consequences of his actions.
Everyone took their seats, and more conversation ensued.
“Mmm, I can’t wait to see what your chef has prepared. Everything is always so marvelous, Blythe.” His aunt commented.
“Thank you Agatha, I do try my best.” his mother responded.
There were more small snippets, and Elliott did his best to keep up and nod along, only speaking when somebody spoke to him while trying to ignore the scrutiny from Joseph right across from him. All was well until the first courses came out, when his mother addressed him.
“My darling son Elliott has been absent for a while, but despite this he still continues to study on through law school. How has that been, dear?”
Everyone at the table turned their attention to him, and Elliott’s mind squirmed at all these eyes on him. It had been so long since he’d had to talk to all these people, especially to boast about
himself, but he knew he had to make this perfect. This was his moment.
“It’s been very well, mother. I still maintain my status in the prestigious Alistair-Wynward Organization, and I’ve managed to gain an internship with the Joja law sector in the city I’m in, which definitely has a lot of potential.”
He stiffened, holding his breath as everyone stared at him.
She stayed quiet for a moment, and then spoke with a sudden start.
“-Oh, is that all?”
His heart may have stopped beating altogether. “Is that all?”
Joseph spoke up next.
“Is that really all you managed to do?”
Whispers made their way across the table as Elliott sat there in horror. He had expected them, expected her to be proud but that was clearly not what was happening.
His mother addressed him again.
“Elliott, I thought you would have done more in the time you’ve had. This is very unfortunate and disappointing.”
He felt the stares of the table intensify on him. He felt like he was going to throw up, or shrink in his seat or simply die. The weight of those words felt like a sword piercing his heart and ripping his lungs. He couldn’t believe it.
His horror suddenly tore through him and evolved into a wide vortex of red-hot anger.
“Disappointing? Tell me what exactly it is about my achievements that is disappointing.”
She looked at him sternly, moving to rest her utensils on her plate before glaring at him.
“You should have accomplished more by now. You’re within the top? You should be the top by now. You know we accept nothing but the very best.”
He felt offended by this comment. It was as if she was just brushing off how hard he had worked for so long; as if she didn’t care.
“Are you aware of how difficult it is to achieve even half of what I’ve done at my school?”
The ferocity in her eyes intensified as the onlookers of the table gaped.
“The difficulty doesn’t matter. You were born into this family so you should have it figured out by now. If you haven’t it means you’re distracted. Does this have to do with your writing? I always hated how much of your time that took up when you were young. I expected you would have grown out of such a silly time-wasting habit by now.”
Elliott was livid.
“I haven’t written a word outside of law for an entire season to elevate myself. I did this for you. Do you have any idea what I have given up in order to be here and please you? Everything. I have given
up everything else to do this for you!” He was on the edge of his seat now, hands curled into fists on the table.
“Then you are a failure.”
Elliott reeled, sitting back in surprise to hear those words come so directly, and she continued.
“If you cannot bring anything worthy here, then you are a failure and certainly no son of mine.” She finished, eyeing him like a predator that’s just killed its prey.
Elliott stood up suddenly, flooring his chair back and knocking his silverware off of the table with gasps from the others.
“I cannot believe I thought you would be different!” He raised his voice, pointing at his mother, “After everything I’ve done this season, everything I’ve done my whole life, I thought something would
please you. I worked tirelessly and gave up anything that I loved for you, and yet you give me nothing. Is there anything in the world that I could have ever done that would earn me your mother’s love?”
She stared him down, looking angrier than Elliott had ever seen her in his life, then answered with aggression.
“No. You would have had to have been born differently. I always knew you were going to disappoint us, Elliott. Perhaps if you would have been capable of keeping your mouth shut tonight like you have for the rest of your life you would have at least not been a complete failure, but you have proved what I always knew about you; that you would disappoint me.”
He stared at her, face fallen expressionless. He didn’t know how to feel at all. His entire mind and body went completely numb.
“Now sit down, Elliott.”
He didn’t sit. He couldn’t. Instead, he turned away from the table, first walking away, then running despite the angry shouts that followed. He ran across the manor, stumbling down the stairs to the foyer and pushing the doors open, sprinting all the way to the gate before collapsing just outside of it. He panted, sinking down the gate and placing his head between his knees. He truly didn’t know what to do, or feel. It was as if something had seized his heart, and squeezed everything out of it until there was nothing left for him to feel.
He sat there for a few minutes, choking on the searing breath stuttering out of his lungs. Out of the panicked numbness that he felt, one thought came through with clarity: He needed to leave. He didn’t even care about the fact that he would have to abandon his bag, he just knew he needed to go, so he heaved himself up off of the ground, his cold hands burning against the cold wrought iron gate he held himself up on. They were shaking badly as he dug through his pockets to find his phone and call another Uber. When it finally arrived and Elliott left, nobody chased after him.
Back at the airport, he managed to wrangle a very last minute ticket back into the city. At this point he started to find it odd that he couldn’t feel anything. He felt light and airy, nearly. He recognized this feeling from when he had been exiled last Spring, and he knew it was just the calm before the storm. He just hoped the storm would only come once he was safe in his room, away from the world.
He briefly thought about Milo, about how it would be relieving to tell him what had happened, but he quickly banished the thought. He hadn’t actually spoken to him in a while, and he certainly didn’t deserve to now.
On the plane back to the city, his mind drifted, and he came to a solid conclusion for his life: it was all for nothing.
Everything he had done in the last season was for nothing.
Everything he had done in the last five years was for nothing.
Everything he had done in his entire life meant absolutely nothing.
Nothing meant anything if this was the outcome.
Before he had much of a chance to sink into the chasm that had just opened in his mind though, the pilot called for deplaning, saving him from his train of thought.
After all the exhausted hours he had just had, it was relieving to finally arrive back in his dorm that evening. He collapsed onto his bed and just laid there aimlessly for a few moments with his head empty. His mind drifted, but all of the sudden he felt the need to keep his hands busy, so he heaved himself up and shuffled around the room, organizing papers and cleaning up in a nearly manic manner. It was clear that he was playing the avoidance game; however, no matter how much he tried to outrun it he couldn’t avoid the inevitability of the chasm opening again, and soon after he ran out of cleaning to do it cracked open and the storm rushed in.
He hadn’t been able to retain his status. No matter what he did, it would have ended this way. That’s what she said, right? That he would always be a disappointment no matter what he accomplished.
He had sacrificed everything for this and none of it mattered at all.
He sank back onto his bed, limbs shaking and stomach turning. He felt tears start to fall from his eyes in stutters as he swirled down and down. He was sad that it had turned out this way–that he had turned out this way–incapable of being what she wanted. He felt angry too, at himself for failing like this, and for believing that it would ever change. Ever since he was a child, it was like this. He would disappoint her somehow, and work so hard to change it; he would do everything he could to change her mind and make her love him, but no matter what he did there was always this lingering feeling of discomfort, like it wasn’t quite right–like something would always be wrong with him, and no matter how much he tried to torture it out of himself it remained, an eyesore to the family.
He folded in on himself, hugging himself in an attempt to give a comfort that he didn’t have: connection.
He felt a sudden longing for Milo. He lifted his head from his bed and looked drearily over at his empty bed. He was probably out, like he normally was. A wave of desolation and despair washed over as he realized that he had probably lost the only true friend he had ever had. The weight of his actions truly pressed upon him, and he felt more pathetic sobs wrack his body as he thought about how truly shitty of a friend he had been recently–how shitty of a friend he had always been. An army of self-loathing descended upon him. How could he do that to somebody who had always listened to him and helped him? And how could he dare to long for him so dearly when he had treated him so horribly for so long?
Elliott truly wanted to die, right then and there. He thought this would certainly be the kind of thing somebody would kill themselves over. However, as awful as he felt, he couldn’t justify doing that until he had properly apologized to his only friend.
For some reason, this thought offered him enough consolation to bring him back from total mental breakdown to just a sad man who is notably still crying. He was exhausted, and with the slightly comforting thoughts of apologizing to Milo when he saw him in the morning, he felt his thoughts swirl and fade into the mix of salty tears on his face…
The next morning, he awoke with a start to his alarm. He found his body curled up in an odd position that left his neck and back aching, and unfurled himself to reach for his phone to shut his alarm off. As he was sinking off of his bed to reach his phone, which had ended up on the floor, he felt himself slipping, and before he could regain his balance, he ended up tumbling to the floor in a heap of limbs. He just laid there without moving for a minute, feeling very very exhausted and defeated before reaching up to his bed for support and hauling himself to his feet. He stretched out like a cat before taking a quick glance at the other side of the room, where Milo should be. Except he wasn’t. Elliott felt a stab of disappointment inflict him before it quickly melted into concern. He wasn’t back yet? It was unlike Milo to not return after a night of partying, because as easy as it would be for him to crash somewhere else, he had always been very adamant about sleeping in his own bed.
However, Elliott forced his thoughts away from worry, content to just assume that it was one of those rare times that Milo decided to stay somewhere else for convenience or a lack of the sobriety required to get back. But he hadn’t been here in the morning when he left yesterday, Elliott suddenly remembered. His concern wormed its way back into his mind. This, paired with the determination he had to apologize to him, felt enough cause to justify calling him. He picked his phone up from off the floor where he had left it and dialed Milo, feeling a smile spread across his face as he saw what Milo had changed it to a while back when he had gotten a hold of Elliott’s phone: ‘the sexiest roomate alive’. Elliott had considered changing it back to a simple ‘Milo’ many times, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, or even to fix the misspelled word. It was just too special to him. While it was ringing, Elliott tried to organize his sheets and blankets from the crumpled mess they had become. But the phone kept ringing.. and ringing.. until it stopped and went to voicemail. He felt panic seize him for a moment. Where the hell was he? Elliott tried calling a couple more times, but he didn’t get an answer either time. His concern morphed into genuine worry. This was very unlike Milo, to just leave suddenly for such a long period of time. Elliott briefly considered calling one of Milo’s insufferable other friends, but he ultimately decided that he would probably show up tonight. Perhaps he had just found a really comfortable place to stay and didn’t feel like making the trip back. It was even possible that he was just avoiding Elliott because of the tension he had created. He felt guilt awash him at that thought. However, if Milo wasn’t going to answer his calls, he would simply have to wait until he showed up, and logically he would have to come back at some point as his belongings were still in the room. With this, Elliott eased his worries and moved onto the next thing that was pressing his mind: what now?
There was no more work left to do, as it was a break time, and his internship didn’t start until after the break was over. He supposed one could never go wrong with good ol’ studying, so he headed over to his desk and pulled his laptop bag out, getting as comfortable as he could in the hard wooden chair (which was perhaps not that comfortable), and began his studies.
He continued this for the next few hours, completely skipping over any semblance of a normal morning routine–like taking a shower or eating breakfast–which he was used to. This was a good way to take his mind off of things, like the fact that he had been pretty much disowned–no. Mind off. Just studying. Just law, that was all that mattered. Plus, it was slightly interesting to read heavily into divorce laws and certain cases surrounding them. People really were crazy sometimes. And that’s all that mattered.
Soon, though, he found his ability to concentrate beginning to dim. It was late afternoon by now, and still no show of Milo. Elliott’s leg bounced as his mind threatened to drop down the rabbit hole of concern, but he stopped it by getting up. He decided he was going to go for a walk, even though he was slightly afraid that Milo would return again and leave before he got back. As he got dressed in new clothing for the first time that day, he decided it would be a very short walk, just to the library and back.
As he walked through the dormitory building, he paid extra attention to everything he could see in the hallway, from the numerous water stains on the ceiling tiles to the mysterious mold that covered the corner before the stairwell, which was slowly growing outwards over the years. While it was a cheap and maybe even slightly hazardous place to stay, he had to admit to himself that he’d begun to feel comfort in this place; a place that was beginning to feel more and more like home than his actual home ever had. It was dangerous to allow his thoughts to travel anywhere near home, but they were succinctly stopped anyway when he pushed open the heavy wooden door and discovered that it was snowing.
He stood in awe of it for a moment. He was sure it wasn’t the first time it had snowed this year, but he’d been so busy that he hadn’t taken notice of it. A cold wind brushed across the sidewalk, scattering some stubborn leaves left from Fall and blowing Elliott’s hair across his face, tickling his nose. With this sudden awareness, Elliott felt the inexplicable urge to write. He hadn’t felt this urge in a long time, so long he couldn’t even recall how long it had been. And even though he hadn’t written a lick since he’d fully focused himself at the end of Fall, he wanted to now, and with nothing else to do it seemingly didn’t matter if that’s how he spent his time.
Venturing further outside, he found a bench and pulled out his phone, thinking to himself about how unfortunate it was that he no longer had any supplies to write something proper with. As he was observing the air around him, he suddenly remembered the last time he had this urge to write that had tugged him around since a child–near the end of Fall, when he had wanted to complain about the city. He had been very irritable that day, he thought. It made his mind wander back to how much he had denied himself in the last season, especially with his writing. With this, he felt inspiration strike him suddenly, and he began writing:
Floating around
upon the steed of the city
and paraded around
as if it was worth something,
but if you sit and watch
a snowflake descend
and melt upon the pavement
it all suddenly ceases to matter
and all that there is
is you and the snow in the silence
waiting for you
to love again.
He was quite proud of it, and for the first time in a good long while, he felt a genuine happiness in his work. However, as the writing high started to wear off, he noticed how cold he had gotten, and decided that he could cancel the walk and head back to his dorm. At this point it was starting to get dark outside anyway, and he felt a faint hope that Milo had walked into the building while he was absorbed in his writing and he hadn’t noticed.
He was disappointed when he walked back into the dorm.
His brows creased in worry as he shed his outdoor layers and crossed the room. He decided he would do a small inspection of Milo’s side of the room. He picked up pieces of trash and dug through old piles of clothes, but he couldn’t find anything that was cause for concern such as Milo having left his wallet or something. He bounced on his heels nervously, wondering if maybe he should call someone. But he didn’t want to seem like some ‘asshole’ who was suddenly so concerned after so much time spent neglecting their relationship, so against his worry, he decided to leave it. It was just a suspicion, and maybe he was the one who was being impatient because of his own desire to talk with him. Elliott took a breath and relaxed, deciding to go and take a shower to attempt to relax.
When he had finished that and returned to the room, he felt exhaustion start to creep in, and with a lack of something else to do, he decided that he should just get some rest, so he sank into bed, and surrounded by comfort of a warm blanket on a winter night, he fell into his dreams…
That morning, he was only slightly jarred by his alarm, quickly shutting it off as he sat up–notably without falling out of bed this time. The first thing he did was look over at Milo’s bed, and to his disdain his roommate was not there. He sank back down, feeling worry snake it’s way through him with much more urgency. One day was a fluke, and two may have been because of slight discomfort, but three? His suspicion grew substantially. He grappled for his phone, tugging it away from his charger on the nightstand and calling “sexiest roomate alive” again, but to no avail. It rang and rang and went to voicemail again. Elliott was growing more and more concerned. His heart started hammering in his chest, much faster than it should have. Anxiety crept in on him, pulling him out of bed quickly. He wasn’t sure why he was suddenly so much more worried, but he was, a frantic energy building within his walls and spilling out in the form of short, panicked breaths. He called Milo one more time before deciding that he would have to give up and call one of his friends if he truly wanted to find him. Even if he seemed like an asshole, his worry was certainly justified now that Milo had been gone so long. The first person he thought of was Norman, who was a little bit difficult to talk to given that he didn’t even try to act like he was interested in anyone or anything, but despite this, for some reason, Milo insisted on spending nearly every night with him.
Norman answered on the second ring.
“What do you want?” He started, accusingly. Elliott didn’t even have time to feel frustrated about this, instead just asking: “Have you seen Milo recently?”
Silence passed over the line for a second.
“Why?”
Elliott felt some kind of relief hit him. It sounded even more accusatory than the first thing, which gave him hope that Milo was with him.
“I haven’t seen him around our place in a concerning amount of time, and he hasn’t answered my calls. I was wondering if he was staying with someone else.”
More silence passed.
“Nor-?” Before he could finish his sentence, he was cut off.
“No.” Norman stated with finality.
Elliott felt his stomach sink even more than it already was.
“He’s not with you?”
“I said no. I haven’t seen him at all for a few days. I assumed he was sick at home or something.”
Elliott sat tentatively on Milo’s bed.
“...well do you have any clue as to where he would be?”
“No.”
He felt frustration build up slightly, but he didn’t have time for that.
“Well, thank you for your help Norman, I-”
Norman hung up. Elliott didn’t understand how Milo tolerated him so frequently, but it didn’t matter now. Another group member he was with often was a friend of his from highschool named Xander. Elliott thought they might be slightly more helpful than Norman, or at least more friendly, but as it stood that didn’t matter. Norman said he hadn’t seen Milo recently at all, which was fairly concerning considering that they were together almost every night. Or, at least they had been back when Elliott was constantly dragged along with them.
Xander didn’t answer the first time, but on the second call they did.
“Elliott….it’s so fuckin’ early, why are you calling me?” they said, sounding groggy and annoyed.
“Have you seen Milo recently? He hasn’t been back in a few days and I’m getting concerned.”
Xander’s side of the line crackled, like they were shifting around in bed, before they answered.
“So now you’re all concerned about him even though you ditched him for a season?”
Elliot felt a stab of guilt.
“I’m aware that I’ve been a terrible friend, but that doesn’t stop me from being worried now.”
Xander sighed.
“Well, either way, the answer is no, I haven’t seen him in a while.” Then they added, with a note of concern their own, “...have you tried Norman?”
Disappointed and becoming more distressed, Elliott replied, “Yes, he was the first person I called.”
Xander sighed again, this time more lightly.
“Last I know, he was with Gail and some other girls…when you get ahold of him, let me know, alright?”
“Of course, thank you for helping.”
“To be clear, I’m helping you for Milo, not for you.”
“...of course. Thank y-”
He was once again cut off by being hung up on. It turns out his relationship with Milo wasn’t the only one he damaged. He imagined Milo drunk, telling his friends about how awful Elliott was. He felt his stomach twist into a knot. He didn’t want to think about it, especially as the anxious feelings were reaching a peak. Neither of Milo’s best friends had seen him in days. He tried to shove the anxiety down as he dialed the next lead, Gail. He was almost surprised to find her in his contacts, given that the two of them had only spoken a couple of times.
She didn’t answer the first three calls.
Elliott was getting more and more and more distressed, noticing that he was trembling now that she wasn’t answering. He was about ready to throw his phone at the wall when on the fourth try, she
picked up.
“...Elli?” A sad, tired voice sounded. He bristled for a second.
The only person that called him that was Milo.
“Gail, have you seen Milo recently?”
There was a long, long silence on the other end of the line.
“...Gail?”
That was all he got out before he heard a small sob.
“Gail, what’s wrong?”
Elliott felt like he was going to throw up. His heart hammered painfully against his ribs and he was trembling like a leaf.
“Gail, please answer me.”
She was crying harder now.
“Gail? Gail!”
He was gripping his phone so hard his knuckles were white. He felt like he was going to pass out.
“Gail, what happe-”
“Elliott…I’m-” she choked on another sob. “I’m so sorry”
Tears welled in Elliott’s eyes. He had thought something bad might have happened, but from the way she was crying…
“He-... he was really upset when we were t-together on Friday… I- I can’t really even remember why, but he was drinking way t-too much.” She stuttered through, still sobbing. “We were all d-drunk
too, so we didn’t stop him…”
Elliott couldn’t find his voice. He could hardly believe what he was hearing but he knew she was telling the truth.
“He…left in someone’s car. A-a few minutes later he…” she burst into sobs for a couple minutes before she was able to finish. “He called me! He c-called me and I didn’t answer because I didn’t
notice and-” she broke down, unable to continue.
“...Gail…?”
She took a few breaths before she found it in herself to finish.
“I’m so sorry Elliott…he…was in a-an accident…maybe if I had just answered the fucking phone I could’ve d-done something but… he really fucked himself up on a t-tree and…h-he didn’t-” she
choked off into sobs again.
Elliott felt a void open up inside of him. The deep, inky blackness was consuming his heart, his brain, everything.
“I’m so sorry…he…left me a voicemail…but I don’t think I should-”
“What did he say.”
“Elliott…”
He crushed his phone in his grip, his falling tears searing red streaks into his face.
“Tell me what he said!” He yelled at her.
“...H-he just said ‘s-sorry’...”
She continued on about something that sounded like she was apologizing for not calling him immediately, but he wasn’t listening. He lowered his phone from his ear, unable to move or speak. He
felt it slip from his grip, sliding down the covers of Milo’s bed and clattering on the floor.
Milo was dead.
His roommate, his friend. He was dead.
And the last thing he ever did was apologize. For something that wasn’t even his fault.
He had died before Elliot even left.
He had been dead for three days and Elliott had no idea.
He couldn’t breathe.
He couldn’t breathe.
He couldn't breathe.
He felt like he was out of his body. He gasped for air but couldn’t get enough in, as if he was choked off. Panic set in as he couldn’t get a breath in, tears streaming down his face. He scratched at his face, at his neck, collapsing. He felt like he himself was going to die.
First his family and now his only friend.
He was completely alone. Devoid of anyone who cared.
That fact burned into his skin, into his eyes. A permanent branding that anyone who looked would see for the rest of his life.
Was there even a rest of his life anymore?
Did he even have one anymore?
Was it even worth it anymore?
Sobs racked his body as he laid in the bed of his now dead best friend. He was just so tired, exhausted of everything that had happened up to this point. He wanted it to end, he just wanted it all to
be done, he was so ready for it to be over…
Elliott’s eyes struggled to open, sealed shut with dried tears.
His entire body ached, feeling dull and tired.
He felt numb.
It was bright when he awoke, light streaming in through the windows, trying to blind him. He looked at the alarm clock blinking by his bed, and discovered that he had slept through the entire day and night. Normally, the thought of that would throw him into a panic, but he couldn’t be bothered by that this morning.
He found it strange to wake staring at his own bed instead of Milo’s.
Milo…
He rolled over onto his back, staring at the vacant ceiling. It reminded him of his heart.
Completely vacant.
He could barely find it in himself to move, but he managed to heave his body into a sitting position. Surrounded by Milo’s stuff, his heart panged with guilt and despair. He’d never get to apologize. He’d never be able to tell Milo that it wasn’t his fault.
Elliott sank off of the bed, drooping to the floor like a wilted flower. He discovered his phone, littered with texts from Gail apologizing, telling him that she was sorry she waited so long to say anything because she was scared everyone would blame her for what happened, but she would get on with it and break the news to everyone else. She also told him to take care of himself, and that if he needed anything she was there.
He also noticed texts from Norman and Xander, among Milo’s other friends, about his death, if it was true, if Elliott knew, Norman even told Elliott that it was his fault, that he should have been there.
It was true. He should have been there.
He shut his phone off, tossing it up onto his desk so he wouldn’t have to look at it anymore. He thought about standing up and crawling onto his bed, but that sounded like too much work for his tortured body, so he just laid back on the floor.
God, this was all his fault. He wished he could go back in time and apologize to Milo on Friday. Maybe he’d even go back in time to the end of Fall and not talk to Ivan, not answer the phone call from
his mother, anything to change the decision he made.
But he couldn’t.
There was absolutely nothing he could do now.
He stared up at the ceiling again, just laying there for a few minutes. The Winter break would come to an end and his classes would resume tomorrow. For some reason, that was enough to get him
to sit up.
He decided that the only thing he was capable of doing at this point was studying. He dragged himself up off of the floor and to his desk, pushing his phone off to the side and getting out his work.
It was the perfect distraction. He kept at it for hours, not eating or bathing or taking a break at all that day. He feared stopping. He knew when he did the thoughts would catch back up with him, so
he kept going until it got dark outside, ignoring every time his phone went off or somebody knocked on the door. He kept going until he was pushed to the very brink of exhaustion, until he could hardly keep his eyes open anymore, and he fell asleep at his desk, surrounded by papers.
He struggled to function when he woke up, having to lug himself up from his chair and drag his body to the bathroom so he could shower. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror.
He looked like shit.
His eyes were even more sunken than before, his hair greasy, his ribs more prevalent in his physique than ever. He turned away, ignoring it and getting on with what he had to do.
Back in the dorm, he dug through his drawers to find something clean to wear, noticing how annoying his hair was starting to get. He managed to find a rubber band in a drawer and tied his hair up.
He then started rifling around for his bag before remembering that it was sitting somewhere in the family house.
He dropped his head and sighed, settling for an old drawstring bag and throwing his stuff in it. Finally he departed, trudging slowly through the snow to his class.
He didn’t even care that he arrived late this time. The professor gave him an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. Elliott could barely find it in himself to care. He didn’t pay attention in the class, instead floating through his day, going through the motions.
This was how the next few days were. He simply went through the motions, floating on autopilot, completely apathetic to the world around him. He tried not to look at Milo’s side of the room when he walked in, and slept turned to the wall to avoid it. He didn’t at all, even when people tried to start conversations.
He ignored everyone.
Well, he tried to ignore everyone, but on Tuesday morning, there was incessant knocking at his door that wouldn’t stop.
“Hello? I’m going to need you to open the door.”
He ignored it until it was clear it wasn’t going to stop, forcing himself out of bed to open the door.
“Yes?” He snapped, before realizing it was his RA. “Oh… what do you need?”
“Hey, Elliott,” The RA took a look into the room behind him before focusing on him again. “I’m really sorry to hear about the passing of Milo.”
Elliott bristled and didn’t say anything.
“Look, I feel really garbage to have to do this, but I really have to. Due to the building’s policies, I have to mark your room as available to rent for a roommate since Milo… doesn’t live here anymore.”
Elliott couldn’t stop the glare from reaching his eyes.
“Somebody else will be moving in?”
“Well, not yet. The place has to be cleaned first. Normally we would just send a housekeeper to clean it, but… due to the circumstances I should ask if you’d like to go through his stuff first…” He
stopped awkwardly.
Elliott just stared at him. Then he felt the first emotion he’s felt besides an echoing numbness in days: fear.
“Somebody else will be moving in?” He repeated, dumbly.
“...yes, we have to mark it as available within the week after a resident moves out.”
Elliott stood there without saying anything, so the RA tried again.
“Would you like to have a housekeeper get rid of everything?”
“No!” Elliott answered immediately.
“Alright, well…it has to be cleaned by Friday, alright?”
“Fine.”
“Okay…again, I’m really sorry about this”
Elliott paused.
“...It’s not as if it’s your fault.”
That’s all he said before closing the door. He leaned against it, looking at Milo’s side of the room for the first time in days. It was still in the state he had left it in before he left on Friday, covered with piles of clothes and trash and his earbuds and… it was a mess.
God, Elliott missed him.
He walked over to it, running his hands over the mess, bunching it up in his hands and hugging it to his chest. His eyes grew misty, but he shoved it down. He let the stuff fall back to the bed in a heap. He’d wait to do this later today, after his classes.
Distress nagged at him all day in the back of his skull. While in his last class, he was consumed by his thoughts. He felt himself dreading the thought of going through Milo’s things, and dreading even more the concept of having to live with somebody else. He didn’t know if he could, but it wasn’t as if he could afford anything else. He probably wasn’t going to be able to afford anything at all soon; he hadn’t checked his bank account but he suspected it was going to be bled nearly dry by his mother when he did. How was he even going to afford to continue law school? Was he even going to? It was all he had planned for his life: finish law school, go work for a law office and do that until he died. All to make his mother happy, which clearly wasn’t going to happen. So what was the point? He didn’t even particularly like law. It had never truly interested him. But it made good money, and he only had a few more semesters left to finish. It would put him in student loan debt, but he could pay it off relatively easily once he got a job.
However, after all he’s been through with it, he honestly didn’t even really want to be a lawyer anymore.
The class was close to ending, so he pushed those thoughts aside. He was about to head back to his dorm when he heard a familiar voice call out to him.
“Elliott!”
He turned to find Ivan jogging toward him. Despite everything that had happened and Ivan being a catalyst for it, Elliott was happy to see him.
“Ivan, it’s good to see you. Have you been well?”
“Yeah, yeah, things have been great! How’s it been going for you?”
Elliott found himself envious of the wide smile on Ivan’s face.
“Well… many things have happened.”
Ivan let out a low whistle. “I was about to ask you if my advice was working well for you, but it doesn’t sound like it’s all good.”
Elliott bit back a bitter remark, refusing to let the little happiness at seeing him be overtaken by envy and anger.
“It has admittedly not worked well.”
“Man, but I saw you got back into the Alistair-Wynward Organization, isn’t that good?”
Elliott bristled.
“That’s… not the issue.”
“Oh, well then what is?”
Elliott thought for a second about what he should say.
“How do you… do it?”
Ivan looked at him quizzically.
“What do you mean? Is my advice not working?”
“Well- it’s not exactly that, I just meant…” Elliott trailed off, then continued with a sudden intensity, “Do you really like this? Is working yourself to exhaustion and sacrificing everything else
something you enjoy? Is it really worth it to you?”
Ivan looked at him funny, then considered it in silence for a second.
“Well…it works for me. I told you to sacrifice everything else because that’s what I did, and I did that because I wanted to. I did it because being the first person in my family to graduate university is
extremely important to me, especially because I’m getting this all full ride.” He stopped for a second, then continued, “Are you asking because you think it’s not worth it?”
“I…” Elliott trailed off.
Ivan stayed silent for a couple seconds, then leaned in, his expression softening into one Elliott had never seen on him.
“I’m going to give you some different advice, because I think I know what the real problem is now. But this advice is coming to you from Ivan your friend, not Ivan the law student.”
Elliott looked at him, confused, and he continued.
“If you really don’t like it here, and it’s really not worth it to you, then maybe it’s not for you, and if that’s the case, then maybe you should do the thing that is.”
Elliott stared at him, shocked. This was not something he ever expected Ivan to say to him, especially after his previous advice. Ivan looked almost sheepish, as if he felt like he said something he
shouldn’t have.
“Perhaps… but part of me believes it wouldn’t really matter anyway.”
Ivan cocked his head in question, so Elliott continued.
“Everything that has happened so far has been the fault of myself and maybe even the others around me, so even if I bothered leaving…what difference would it make? Won’t it just get destroyed
again?”
It was something Elliott had just considered. He’d destroyed and even killed everything that he’d touched so far, so did it truly matter if he even tried? Would he not just ruin everything again somehow?
Ivan looked at him fondly though, yet another new expression Elliott had never seen.
“Elliott,” he said seriously, “sometimes shit things happen to people and it’s not actually anybody’s fault. I don’t know what happened to you, but I can tell you that there’s not always someone to
blame. Most of the time, crap just happens, and you can try to blame yourself, or blame someone else, but in the end it was just a series of events that ended badly, with no one person to blame.”
Elliott was shocked. It was so easy to find the blame, in himself, in his family, even in Ivan somewhat. But… perhaps that was part of his problem. When he had suddenly heard from his family again, Elliott decided to blame Milo for what had gone wrong, even though there were so many other factors. When he had been banished in Spring, he blamed Joseph, even when his entire family had ostracized him as well, even when he himself was the one who decided to comment. But ever since he was a child, it had been clear that someone had to take the fall, no matter what.
If Elliott had managed to learn anything though, it was that maybe sometimes his family wasn’t always right.
“Maybe… you have a point…”
Ivan put a hand on Elliott’s shoulder.
“I think you should do what makes you happy. You deserve to have a good life, and if this isn’t what that is for you, then get the hell out of here.”
He took his hand away, and flashed him a signature Ivan grin.
“Anyway, I have to run! I’m a busy guy after all.”
Elliott found himself able to give him a small, yet genuine smile.
“Alright Ivan. Thank you for helping me once again.”
“That’s what friends do, man.” He turned to leave, but turned back around to give him one last comment.
“Also, don’t tell anyone what I said, okay? Ivan the law student shouldn’t be encouraging people to drop out of university.”
Elliott almost laughed.
“Of course, your secret advice is safe with me.”
Ivan smiled at him again, then disappeared down the hallway.
Elliott continued on to his dorm, truly thinking about the advice he was given, and thinking about Ivan as a whole. One thing in particular stuck with him: ‘Ivan your friend.’ He’d never truly thought about Ivan as his friend. He thought of him as a pupil, someone grinding for the same thing he was. Throughout the last few years, the only person he would have considered his friend was Milo. But… Ivan clearly considered him a friend. The two of them had helped each other with many things, so it made sense. Ivan was his friend. And what about all the people who had been incessantly texting him? Gail, Xander, even Norman seemed slightly concerned after Elliott failed to respond to him. He’s always thought of these people as “Milo’s friends,” but with the amount of time he’d spent around them, were they not also his friends? When he was younger, he was taught that friends are somebody who benefits you. But he was starting to realize that maybe that was a little wrong too.
His head hurt with all of these revelations, and the fact that he was now at his dorm didn’t help.
It was time to do the thing he had been dreading all day.
Stepping inside, his instincts told him to avert his eyes, but he forced himself to look at Milo’s empty bed. It was painful to stare at. He looked away after a second, and dropped all of his stuff on his own side of the room. He did his ritual of putting all of his stuff away and changing into something more comfortable before he could no longer delay the inevitable.
It was time.
He crossed the room, simply staring at the bed again. His hands were shaking as he picked up Milo’s things. An old, musty sweatshirt started the pile of things he would donate. Elliott decided it was better than throwing everything Milo had accumulated over the years away, so that’s where most of his clothing went. It became easier to go through his things as he continued. Mostly everything on his bed consisted of dirty clothes and trash. The only thing Elliott kept was another sweatshirt, one Milo wore constantly. Elliott’s heart lurched when he saw it. It was from a music festival that the two had gone to together years ago, although admittedly Elliott hadn’t really wanted to be there. He hugged the sweatshirt, wishing to everything that he’d appreciated the time with his friend when he had it. It was too late now, though. This sweatshirt was all he had left of that night. He walked it over and gently laid it on his bed. He didn’t want to keep many of Milo’s things. A small part of him didn’t want to keep any of it, but he knew he couldn’t bear to part without anything.
After a few deep breaths and a lot of internal convincing, Elliott moved on to his dresser. He started at the bottom, hoping it would just be more clothing, and it was, the bottom three drawers being only that, most of it wrinkled from being thrown in haphazardly instead of folded. The second to the top was a bunch of trash and a couple bottles of alcohol, which Elliott almost considered keeping but thought better of it, the bright, toxic-seeming drinks looked like something that would have him vomiting all night.
Elliott felt anticipation opening the top drawer, afraid he would find something he didn’t want to see, but he instead found a couple of blankets and more clothing. He was relieved, and quickly grabbed them and brought them to the donation bag he had started filling. However, when he returned, he noticed there was more. He picked up what looked like a toiletry bag, and under the bag
he found a notebook. Not just any notebook, however. The notebook he found was one of his own.
He lifted it out of the drawer with slightly shaky hands, flipping it over to see the neat little ‘E’ he had printed on the back so he could always identify it as his.
He flipped it open, discovering his writing, old poems and story ideas and notes littered throughout it. But… he had gotten rid of all of these, and Milo wasn’t the type to steal something from him, so why was it here?
He found his answer on the inside of the back cover. There, scribbled in messy black pen, was a note from Milo.
“elli i don’t know what the hell is going on or why you won’t talk to me but you are CRAZY to be getting rid of all of this!!! the stuff written in here is fucking brilly brilliant! i always thought you were
dumb to be going through law school when you could write like this. i can’t believe this is the only thing I managed to grab i wish i would have grabbed more of these mfers. one of these days im going to smack you as hard as I can with this book and force you to read these because i swear elli, you need a reminder of how good you are. if you don’t stop being cray after your break i will hit you with this and maybe then youll remember who you goddamn are. i don’t know what hppend but it’s nothing your sxy roomate and a very strong drink cant solve. im here for you, kay? now stop being stupid and go write.
-MILO THE SEXIEST ROOMATE ALIVE
Tears streamed from Elliot’s eyes. He remembered the day he had purged all of his writing stuff. He could recall leaving the room for trash bags while Milo was in there. He must’ve stolen it then, and written the note a few days after, since he alludes to Elliott ignoring him.
God, Elliott misses him so much.
He felt unsteady on his feet, catching himself on the bedframe and lowering himself to sit on the ground. He hugged the journal to his chest, regretting how he treated Milo more and more. It was never his fault that Elliott failed his family. It was never his fault that Elliott stayed up late and was late to class. Milo was a good friend who wanted him to succeed and be happy, and now he was…
Elliott squeezed more tears out of his eyes, and looked at Milo’s note again. He was imploring him, pleading him, literally threatening him into writing again.
It was what Ivan wanted him to do. It was what Milo wanted him to do. It was all he had ever wanted to do as a child.
Maybe this was what he was meant to do.
He flipped through the notebook, finding that the last few pages hadn’t been used yet. In a sudden fervor, he hauled himself up from the ground and threw the notebook on his desk, frantically digging through his drawer for a pen before finding one.
He wrote up a storm.
He poured out everything he had experienced and thought about in the past season, and when he exhausted that, he wrote about what he had experienced his whole life. The expectations that had been placed on him as a child, how his mother convinced him that his writing didn’t matter and that he should find interest in law, how his family had always treated him like an adult even when he was a child, that he didn’t get to explore his imagination and creativity the way children should. He quickly ran out of space in his notebook, and since he had no others around he started writing on the back of his class papers. He wrote about regret, about guilt, about love, about friends, about law, about family, about writing. He poured out seasons, years, and entire life’s worth of emotions that he was never able to express.
By the time he was done, it was so late that it was early morning. He stretched his back and limbs, feeling exhausted. Despite this though, he felt something he had never truly felt before: free. He looked over at Milo’s side of the room, still a mess as he hadn’t finished clearing up his stuff. Elliott decided to finish it, looking through the toiletry bag he saw and finding a collection of old Pokemon cards. He put them in the donation pile, along with everything else Milo had collected under the bed and in his wardrobe. It was still painful to go through it, seeing all the stuff that made up Milo’s life even though he was no longer here. However, he felt a small feeling of hope shine through cracks, a hope that maybe he could live a life that would have made Milo proud. He wanted to make him happy, even if he wasn’t there. Perhaps that could start with talking to Milo’s friends–his friends.
That was a tomorrow task, though. Elliott finished packing everything into various trash bags and glanced at the desk, covered with scattered papers. As much as he still felt like he didn’t quite deserve it, he felt contentment seep into his bones. He laid gently in his bed, and surprisingly didn’t struggle to fall asleep at all.
He made some big decisions in the next few weeks. He stayed true to his ‘tomorrow task’, returning the texts and calls of the people who had reached out to him. He ended up meeting with Gail, and they bonded over tears and stories of Milo. Elliott made sure to tell her it wasn’t her fault, no matter how many times she affirmed it was. Xander was no longer cold after Elliott apologized and explained the situation, taking full accountability for his side of it. They told Elliott that they were always there to talk, and the two of them spoke a lot about the excursions Milo always brought them on. Norman was cold and slightly aggressive, as per usual, but Elliott didn’t give up, continuing to talk to him. He knew Norman’s forgiveness and friendship wasn’t easy to earn, but he was willing to wait until he was ready.
After a lot of deliberation, Elliott decided that he couldn’t continue with law school after all he had been through. He realized it when he saw Ivan again at a Alistair-Wynward Organization meeting. He saw a determination–a happiness in him, and it was clear that it derived from a true want to succeed in this field. A want that Elliott possessed for writing. That’s when Elliott knew he had to do what made him happy, which did not include this prestigious (pretentious) school.
It was a process; having to let his advisor know (he faced a lot of pushback from her) and doing all the paperwork and trying to figure out where to go.
He decided he wasn’t going to stay in the dorm, or even in this city. He found a writing school that was across the continent, and he had applied with much hope that he would be accepted. Even if he wasn’t, he was still moving near there. It would be refreshing, it was in a smaller town in a warmer, coastal city. He wanted to move far away from this city, farther away from his family then he was.
Dealing with his family was surprisingly easy. When the news that he was dropping out reached them somehow, he simply ignored them. However, it was especially hard to ignore his mother. She left many scathing messages that turned into pleas for him to continue. Part of him wanted to reach out, to comfort her somehow, to make her love him. But he had matured enough to realize that this would never happen. He blocked all of them, and ignored everything else they tried until they stopped. It was difficult, but it also felt freeing. He was leaving, and this time on his own terms, he was going to be free.
He’s struggled through the season, the past year, his whole life. He’s lost his family, and then lost his best friend. He’d felt broken, had even considered killing himself, had dealt with depression and disordered eating and had felt some of the most horrible things he’d ever experienced. But he made it through.
He was continuing on to a brisk half-walk half-run of a life that he wanted, one that would make him happy.
And fuck was he ready to be happy.
—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The bus rumbled over the poorly paved half-gravel road. Elliott stared out the window, a succinct smile on his face as he felt the ocean breeze waft through the open window. His hair swayed back and forth, brushing his shoulders, and he ran his hand through it to smooth it down. He was excited, having finally decided to buy a cozy little cabin somewhere so he could write to his heart’s content. After four years in a writing school and another one spent cramped in his tiny apartment trying to push his creativity out, he decided that it was time to leave the city life behind and start somewhere completely brand new. He has always loved the ocean, so what better place to go than a nice little cabin right on the beach? His heart thrummed along with the bus engine, and as the bus rounded a corner, a sign melted into view: Stardew Valley, 0.5mi.
His smile widened as he leaned his head against the window, ready to start a new adventure.