#eyikes

eli has always been painfully observant. fitting to his title, he’s one of if not the most perceptive survivor in the manor, even without his gift of foresight

noticing ever-so-subtle changes (especially in the people closest to him (you)) is like second nature, so keeping things well and truly hidden from him is next to impossible

thankfully, he isn’t the type to pry even when he tends to know more than he lets on. he respects the privacy of others and their boundaries, so he won’t step in unless he notices something is wrong or he feels the need to

that being said, something is clearly, very off with you. perhaps it isn’t outwardly visible to the other residents, but little escapes his notice

his comfort starts out small. he doesn’t want to overwhelm you by asking directly, just in case if what’s bothering you isn’t something you’re ready to talk about. he’s incredibly patient, so take all the time you need, dear

he sends brooke rose to you first. she’s always enjoyed your company, but recently you notice that she lingers a bit more than usual. she perches on your chair at the table, tipping her head curiously as you turn to look back at her

other than eli, she isn’t too keen on letting people touch her, but for you, she’ll make an exception. run a curled index finger down her feathers and she’ll coo happily, bumping your hand with the smooth part of her beak

in addition to owl cuddles, he’ll do his best to raise your spirits in a way that isn’t too telling. maybe he requests a dish he knows you enjoy, but ends up claiming that he overestimated his appetite. would you like to have it? it’s no problem, really. he’s more than happy to share with you. you always tend to work yourself so hard—you need to eat well to keep up your energy

he keeps a careful eye on your demeanor during these gestures, noting every reaction (or perhaps lack thereof)

each minuscule expression you show is mirrored and amplified on his own. the tiniest twitch of a smile is enough for eli to break out into a grin, and vice versa. his brows furrow in concern behind his blindfold whenever he sees your eyes flicker away

if he begins to see that you’re withdrawing, closing yourself off, or heaven forbid not taking care of yourself properly, that’s when he decides to confront you. he cares about you so, so deeply. he won’t let you suffer alone

ideally, he waits until both of you are afforded a quiet moment, but he’s not afraid of pulling you aside himself. and, oh, his heart breaks when he hears the tremble in your voice

it’s hard not to cry when he asks you what’s wrong. “you seem… not yourself,” he says, and despite his open wordage, he already knows. there’s no use in pretending or insisting that you’re okay. if you try, he’ll just gently correct you

suddenly, there’s a lump in your throat and the world becomes blurry. resistance breaks and it feels as if everything floods open all at once. his arms are already open for you by the time you fall into him, leaning his head down to gingerly rub his nose into your temple

he mumbles words of comfort to you every once and awhile, but he mostly listens. even if all you can manage are strings of bubbling, incoherent nonsense, he hears you all the same

he uses one hand to rub soothing patterns along your spine while the other cards through your hair, encouraging you to rest against his shoulder. he doesn’t mind that your fingers grip desperately into the fabric of his clothes, or that your snot dribbles onto his cloak. you try and apologize through broken sobs and half-breaths, but he always reassures that you don’t have to

he’ll let you cry on him for as long as you need. whether your tears last a few minutes or a few hours, he’ll act as your pillar to lean against throughout it all

as you start to calm down, he’ll pull off his gloves to begin carefully wiping away the tears still stubbornly sticking to your face. his fingers are cool against your burning skin, thumbs swiping over your cheeks. once he’s sure that no more will fall, he reaches to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear

he might not be the strongest guy in the manor, but he still offers to carry you to your room. just say the word and he’ll turn around and kneel down in front of you, arms back as he readies himself for you to climb up

if you’d prefer to walk, that’s okay too. he’ll reach out to take your hand instead, intertwining your fingers with his own. eli makes sure to match whatever pace you decide to take, slowing his strides to your footsteps

by the time the two of you reach your door, sleep is already beckoning you into its embrace. there’s a slight pressure behind your drooping eyes, facial muscles aching from overexertion. you sniffle, but the cold air burns down your nostrils. everything is sore, everything hurts, and for some reason, you feel like crying all over again

you hobble forward when he carefully sets you down (or very reluctantly releases your fingers from his grasp, had you chosen to walk) and blindly reach around in the darkness for the knob. your nose is almost too stuffed to breathe through now, so an odd sound leaves your throat instead. he hears it, of course, and takes a step forward as soon as you manage to push open the door with your shoulder

“…i can stay,” he offers quietly, hand reaching for yours. he catches your wrist just before you pass the threshold, something unspoken being left in between the gap

his grip is loose enough for you to pull away if you want to. eli has always been like that. he always gives you a choice