victory's contagious;

It didn’t surprise him. In fact, Elijah felt a sweet triumph wash over him at her lack of response. Even after all this time, he knew exactly how to play with her. She was ever so predictable. And even while she managed to keep all of her buttons in the exact place she left them, and even if he had each and every one of them memorized, knowing exactly the words to say, the actions to take to manipulate the reactions he wanted, she somehow managed to be as equally sporadic. Dragging his eyes along the crowd, just past the girl’s head, Elijah pursed his lips, considering whether it was worth it. Whether he wanted to take her advice and turn on his heel without a second thought. However, he knew, of course, if he did this, he would owe Louis some sort of explanation. The last thing he wanted was to be obligated to summarize his disaster of an ex. Certainly there was another reason pulling and prying from inside of him, trying to convince him to stay, but he was sure to swallow it down like he had the last of his champagne.

Turning his attention to see Freya again, he shook his head. “Oh… I’m not leaving.” His tone was almost as smug as hers. He was impressed with himself.  It had been a while since he made an effort to stoop himself to such levels. “I’m here to enjoy our friend’s exhibit.” He explained simply. “If you’re uncomfortable with my being here, then it’s a bit curious that you’d follow me through the entire studio.” Trailing off, he pressed his lips together and kept his gaze steadily on her. If not for the adrenaline that was coursing through him, he would have taken this opportunity to make his way back into the busy room. “So, again, Freya. What do you want?” He pressed. He bit back the urge to mention the message she had left. Of course he knew that’s what this was all about. What were the chances that they would encounter one another, not a week after? It seemed ridiculous that she expected she could act so obviously about wanting to speak with him and deny the fact all together. And it wasn’t until he had posed the question again that he realized that he may not actually have been fortunate enough to bear the strength to leave like he had been planning to a moment ago.

Nearly as soon as the words had left her mouth, Freya wanted to eat them back up again. She could only begin to imagine the victory song that must be playing in Elijah’s head right now. Once again, though she had tried her hardest to come off as cold and calculated as she once was, somehow she still turned into an almost inarticulate mess in Elijah’s presence. Really, she couldn’t have come up with something better than ‘I’m not leaving, so you probably should’? What was wrong with her? Of course, she knew the answer to that. Elijah. Elijah was what was wrong with her. Had been for the last three and a half years. Even when they were apart, she could not deny the way she had been changed by the simple man in front of her. One single person had had the power to not only make her better, but make her want to be better. If her mother could see her now-- see the weak woman Freya had become-- well, Freya didn’t want to think about what she might do. 

Elijah’s biting remarks had been what Freya expected of course-- maybe even a little tamer than what she expected. Though, as he fell silent, the repeated question hanging between them, the blonde couldn’t help but sense the tiniest bit of hesitation. In fact, giving herself some time to think about it, she concluded that Elijah wasn’t the type to stand around and wait. No, surely, if he really wanted to be done with her, he would have walked away even before Freya’s last words had been out of her mouth. He wouldn’t be bothering to stand in front of her, seemingly waiting for her to say something. For a moment, Freya was realizing that, no matter how much Elijah fought against it, the ball was in her court now. She felt a fleeting sense of pride. Fleeting because she had no biting retort. She couldn’t even bear to narrow her eyes at him, or even make an attempt to call him out on his forced toughness. A heavy sigh leaked off her lips and as her rigid posture eased, Freya began to realize how truly exhausted she was. She shook her head a bit, running a hand through her hair as her eyes flicked to Elijah, then away, down to the ground. “I don’t know what I want.” She finally answered. “Haven’t you always known that?”

He did think he could walk away from her while she was speaking to him. In fact, the question seemed silly.  Freya never did failed to amaze him with her delusions.  Did a stable part of her mind ever really exist?  Or did she honestly think she had some sort of entitlement to him; even having not spoken to him in years?  His eyes remained stoney, and his gaze ahead, though, he could feel every inch of his body aching, and edging its way back to her.  For a moment, he thought his head may turn in her direction, against his will.  For a moment, he thought he may not have a choice.  Instead, somehow, Elijah managed to continue his path toward the door. He couldn’t fall into their same old habit.  Not this time around.

It had been so easy before.  A few harsh words could ease from his lips ten times easier than anything kind ever could.  The two of them could tear each other completely apart, and even upon her challenge, Elijah could remember how good it felt.  It felt so damn good to look at her, and to see past every pathetic facade she had built around herself.  It felt so damn good to resist against her ridiculous challenges and tear away at them with his words.  He loved nothing more than the look on Freya’s face; the utter shock, and denial in her eyes when he would spit the truth at her.  The truth.  A concept that always managed to skew itself when in the presence of the girl.  Had it been his fault that everything fell apart?  Did he not do his absolute best?  Had he failed her in some way which lead him to somehow deserving her betrayal?  These were all questions Elijah thought he had the answer to until the moment he laid eyes on her again.  He was desperately clutching to these answers, not wanting to believe that it hadn’t been her fault.

Reaching the door of Louis’ exhibit, Elijah suddenly stopped in his tracks and turned back to face the girl.  The motion was so quick that he had almost prepared himself for her to run into him, in the brief moment before. Staring down at the girl, his expression was blank.  For the first time in three years, he gave himself a chance to see her.  Rather than looking through her, or past her like he had moments before.  There was a long and painful silence before he had the chance to muster up anything to say, and he knew the pain was coming from the boundless depths of their unresolved issues. “Look, I’m not really interested in catching up.  —There isn’t really anything for me to say here, so if you have something you want to say, I’d suggest getting it over with now.” Surprisingly, his voice was calm, and definitely only audible to her. He paused for a moment before continuing. “Don’t beat around the bush here, Freya.  I’m giving you thirty seconds.”

The chilling pressure of Elijah’s icy glare on her only seemed to fuel her anger, ignite a spark in her. She had always felt a spark with Elijah, whether it be a spark of passion, or one of rage. They were always driving each other crazy, pushing and pushing and pushing until they both broke. Freya knew she probably pushed more than Elijah, but it wasn’t something she would ever admit out loud, to him, in a million years. 

The silence stretched out around them like a suffocating cloud, threatening to smother them both with the words neither of them had said. Freya couldn’t help but, just for a second, wish she could just say she was sorry. Maybe it wouldn’t do much. Maybe they were too far gone for it to make any difference. But that wasn’t what stopped her from speaking up. What stopped her was the overwhelming fear growing in her chest. The sensation that, if she did say something, there was a very real chance that Elijah would spit in her face anyway. Not only would she take the risk of pouring her heart out, but she wouldn’t gain anything in the process either. And Freya had always been told to only show her feelings if there was something to be gained by being emotional. Otherwise, show no weakness. Show strength, power, confidence. Anger. All of these were words she had learned first-hand from her mother. After she had seen her time and time again get just what she wanted and still walk away being the only one with no scars. Freya had been like that too. Until Elijah. Now the scars were numerous. So numerous that they seemed to engulf her whole body, until sometimes, she couldn’t even bear looking in the mirror. 

She couldn’t deal with any more scars. She looked away from Elijah, only to roll her eyes in feigned annoyance. She shot her eyes back to him, hoping her gaze was just as cold as his. “I have nothing to say to you.” She paused for a moment, slowly raising her chin. “I’m not leaving, so you probably should.”