Elijah laid motionless on his bed, his limbs heavy and unresponsive, the echoes of the night's restless dreams clinging to him like cobwebs. His alarm clock blared at exactly 7 a.m., breaking through the fog in his mind. Groaning, he rolled over and hit the snooze button before forcing himself up.
The cold shower helped jolt him awake, but the reflection staring back at him in the bathroom mirror didn't inspire much confidence.
His crimson eyes, usually sharp and intense, were rimmed with red from lack of sleep. The dark bags under them only added to the haunted look.
He sighed, splashing cold water on his face again. "Pull yourself together," he muttered under his breath.
By the time he stepped out of his room, Visconti and Kieran were already waiting, both dressed in their official corps uniforms.
"Took you long enough," Kieran teased. "What were you doing? Trying to look pretty for Sky City?"
Elijah gave him a tired glare but didn't bother responding.
Visconti smirked. "Leave him alone, Kieran. He looks like he barely slept. Probably too busy dreaming about his tragic backstory."
"Very funny," Elijah muttered, brushing past them.
They reached the gate just as Marcus arrived, his usual calm and professional demeanor intact. Without wasting time, he gave them a brief rundown of their route for the day.
"Sky City again," Kieran groaned, his shoulders slumping. "Can't we get a different assignment for once?"
"No use in complaining," Marcus said firmly, though his tone wasn't harsh. "Let's move."
The morning started quietly, the streets of Sky City bustling as usual.
The massive skyscrapers loomed overhead, their glass facades reflecting the sunlight. The city felt alive with activity, its population far denser than their home base.
Elijah noticed the whispers starting almost immediately as they walked through the crowded streets. People glanced at them, their eyes lingering just a moment too long before they turned away, murmuring to one another.
"these damn espers," someone whispered.
"Dangerous," another muttered.
Elijah felt the weight of their stares, each one a sharp reminder of the prejudice they faced. He kept his expression neutral, but the whispers gnawed at him.
Kieran, as usual, tried to lighten the mood. "At least they're not throwing tomatoes at us, right?" he joked, though his smile didn't reach his eyes.
Visconti rolled his eyes. "Keep talking, Kieran. One of these days, you'll actually make things worse."
Elijah dragged his feet as they walked back to their dorm, his shoulders slumped under an invisible weight.
By the time the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting the city in a warm, golden glow, Elijah was utterly drained.
"You look like a zombie," Kieran said as they made their way back to the dorms.
"Thanks," Elijah muttered, too tired to come up with a better retort.
"It wasn't even that bad today," Kieran added, stretching his arms behind his head. "No rogue Espers, no criminals, just a lot of walking."
The day had passed in a blur, uneventful yet draining.
Whispers followed them wherever they went, but today, they seemed louder, sharper, cutting deeper into his already worn-out mind.
As they reached the dorm, Kieran stretched dramatically, groaning. "Finally! Home sweet home! I swear, patrolling is going to kill me one of these days."
"You say that every day," Visconti replied dryly, shaking his head. "And yet you're still alive to complain about it."
Kieran shot him a glare. "Some of us aren't made of ice, Visconti. Normal people get tired, you know."
"Hey, Elijah," Kieran's voice broke through his thoughts, startling him. "You okay? You've been quiet all day. Well, quieter than usual."
Elijah opened his eyes and forced a small smile. "I'm fine. Just didn't sleep well."
Kieran flopped onto the couch dramatically.
"I'm starving! Elijah, you're cooking, right? I'm too weak to even stand right now."
"Make something yourself for once," Visconti said from the kitchen, already rummaging through the cabinets.
"I would, but I'm pretty sure I'd burn the dorm down," Kieran replied, grinning sheepishly.
Elijah sighed, pushing himself off the couch. "I'll cook. Just... don't set the place on fire, Kieran."
As he moved to the kitchen, the normalcy of the moment was a small comfort. Cooking gave him something to focus on, a way to drown out the noise in his head.
He prepared a simple meal—grilled chicken, rice, and steamed vegetables. The three of them ate quietly at first, the exhaustion of the day settling over them like a heavy blanket.
Eventually, Kieran broke the silence. "Today was really boring."
"Speak for yourself," Visconti said, leaning back in his chair. "At least we didn't have to deal with any idiots picking fights this time."
"If I have to listen to one more person call us monsters under their breath, I might freeze this whole city." Visconti muttered.
Kieran snorted, clearly unimpressed by Visconti's melodramatic threat. "Sure, ice prince. I'll believe it when I see it."
Elijah didn't join the conversation. He stared at his plate, his mind elsewhere, replaying the events of the day and the whispers that followed them everywhere.
His head lowered, replaying fragments of his dream from the previous night. Oliver's face, Allan's cold stare, the blood—it all felt too vivid, too real.
"Elijah," Kieran called, breaking him from his thoughts. "You good?"
Elijah blinked and quickly nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine."
As they continued eating, Kieran launched into another story about his old life, something lighthearted that had Visconti rolling his eyes and muttering about how he was "too cheerful for his own good."
Elijah barely contributed to the conversation, his responses limited to nods and hums.
When dinner was over, Kieran stretched with a yawn. "Man, I'm wiped. I'm calling it a night."
"Same," Visconti said, though he lingered a moment, giving Elijah a pointed look before heading to his room.
Elijah stayed at the table, staring at his empty plate. The dorm grew quiet, save for the occasional creak of the building settling.
Finally, he stood and headed to his room, closing the door softly behind him. He sank onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling once more.
His mind drifted back to Oliver, to that fateful day in the Esper testing room. He clenched his fists, the memory of Allan's face searing into his thoughts.
He excused himself early, retreating to his room and collapsing onto his bed.
The silence of the dorm was a stark contrast to the noise of Sky City, but even in the quiet, Elijah couldn't escape the weight pressing down on him.
He stared at the ceiling, his mind racing with thoughts he couldn't push away.
Why did it feel like the world was against them? Why did it feel like no matter what they did, they would always be seen as monsters?
And for the first time in a long while, Elijah wasn't sure if he had the strength to keep fighting it.