Chapter Text
Elijah Ekkehard was as short as he was stocky and pale. He sat with his legs spread open in the cramped chair. He watched people bustle and pass by with a scrutinizing glare, lucky enough to have headphones on so he didn't have to hear their incessant chatter. He was also lucky enough to get a late flight he could sleep through. He'd been to America once or twice before, but that was a long time ago. He'd taken in as much scenery as he could in an airplane, but he came to the conclusion that America was not that interesting.
He turned the volume up in his headphones and flinched away from the noise of some woman chattering over the intercom. He ran his fingers over the scars on his arms and biceps, able to feel the raised skin through his long sleeves. He was wearing a black and red shirt and black sweatpants. He moved a hand to his beat up duffle bag and ran it over the thin cover. He caught a little bit in between his fingers and rubbed the rough material. He sighed deeply, trying to ground himself.
He eventually looked up and saw a tall, pale man who he recognized as Mikhail Morozov. He kept his eyes on him but didn't move; he'd wait until he came to him.
In the meantime, he observed him. He made large gestures and spoke with his hands. He had a wide smile and large arms. He fits his backline roll of tall and muscular to a T. His hair just barely reached his shoulders, layered into two parts. Black on top, and blonde underneath. He wasn't sure what part was dyed.
He felt his face get hot and he looked away, observing the view out the tall windows that lined the wall. He moved his headphones so one was off his ear and his nose immediately crinkled at the sound of overlapping idle chatter.
Eventually he could make out a raspy, but light Slavic voice. He looked up and saw the multicolored man coming towards him.
"Elijah Ekkehard, God, I thought you missed your flight or something," he smiled and shook his head.
Elijah stood up and shook his hand. "Mikhail Morozov. Backliner. I hear you have quite the track record."
Judging by the look that crossed Mikhail's face, Elijah could infer he was quite aware of his reputation.
"Call me Misha," he said, "let's not talk court while you're probably still jet-lagged."
"I am fine," Elijah said immediately.
Misha laughed nervously.
"There was supposed to be two of you."
"Oh! Yes, Riley was just getting coffee he should be right... There!"
Misha gestured for Elijah to follow him and he did. Tensing when he brushed up against someone in the crowd. He adjusted the strap of his duffle when he heard Mikhail call, "O Captain, my Captain!"
A man with shaggy light brown hair turned his attention unto Misha, then down to Elijah. He slowly nodded his head.
"Alright," he said, clearly satisfied with himself. He looked Elijah up and down. "We could use some more muscle on the front line."
Elijah excused his obvious eyefucking and moved onto more pressing matters.
"Riley is a girl's name," he said, staring into his impossibly deep brown eyes.
A smile spread over the captain's face. He lifts up his shirt just enough for Elijah to see the scars on his chest. "Used to be."
Elijah bit down so hard on his lower lip that it nearly bled.
Misha jabbed an arm into Riley's side. "I bet you've been waiting years to pull that line," the pale man riffed.
"Or maybe I'm just funny," Riley laughed, "C'mon, let me entice the new guy..."
Elijah looked away from his heavy gaze, still trying to recover from being flashed just seconds ago.
Riley sipped his coffee. "You must be tired, it's a long way from Germany to America."
"I slept on the plane."
"The whole way?" Misha asked incredulously.
"Nothing better to do. I needed to sleep."
Misha laughs. "I could never. You're much stronger willed than me."
"I have no doubts about that," Elijah said with ice in his voice.
Misha turned his gaze out the window, suddenly more interested in watching the birds. Riley frowned, but when he noticed Elijah looking at him he flashed a bright smile.
He shook his coffee. "Want a sip? I know you're not tired, but just for fun. It's pretty good for airport coffee."
Elijah's hands froze where they were working the strap of his bag. He clenched his teeth.
"I'm not interested in sharing spit with you."
Riley put his hands up defensively. "Alright, germphobic, I get it."
Elijah didn't feel like correcting him. Misha suddenly turned back.
"Do you have any carry-on bags? I know it was a last minute trip and all but-"
"No," Elijah spat harshly.
Riley and Misha exchanged glances. But Riley turned his charm back on a second later with a cheery, "Then what are we waiting for? Let's get out of here!"
He took the lead and Elijah pulled his headphones back on as he hurried to the captain's side, shoulders tense as he held onto his bag like someone would take it from him.
When they got outside he couldn't help but squint. The Louisiana sun beat down on them and it was unimaginably bright. Elijah could already feel the pain in his eyes shoot to the back of his head and bounce back and forth from temple to temple. Misha touched his shoulder and gestured for him to take his headphones off, which he did, albeit reluctantly.
"Is there any chance you have a car rented?"
"I do not have enough money for a car rental," Elijah muttered.
"My truck is perfectly fine," Riley snapped.
"Tell that to the police when you kill the new guy on his very first day."
Elijah sensed he was in between an argument that was larger than this moment. He couldn't help but clench his jaw while the bickered like a married couple.
"Is your truck safe?" Elijah interrupted.
They both looked at him. Misha opened his mouth to respond but Riley responded first.
"It's a bit old, but you'll live."
"Or maybe you won't," Misha added with a sly grin. "Only time will tell."
Elijah figured it might've been a joke, but it felt serious when he stared into his piercing gray eyes. Elijah pulled his lips into a bloodless line.
When Misha noticed the apprehension on Elijah's face, he took an easy step back.
"Riley's truck is safe, really, I'm just giving him shit. Sorry if I scared you, Eli-- can I call you Eli?"
Elijah didn't care what they called him.
"Giving him shit..?" He asked, furrowing his brows.
"Joking, kidding- y'know? Sorry, I forgot you're still learning English."
"English is not your first language either."
"How do you know that?" Misha asked with genuine concern.
"Your accent," Elijah deadpanned. Riley laughed, but Elijah didn't get what was so funny.
Misha sighed, half relief, half exasperation. "You sound like a stalker, man.. but yes, English is my second language. I learned it when I was super young though; dual taught, English from my mom and Ukrainian from my dad. I can't imagine you've been learning English for that long."
"Since I was in highschool."
"There you go. So what, six? Seven years?"
"Something like that."
"Do you guys want to stand here all day? I mean, it's beautiful outside, I'm not against it, but..." Riley trailed off knowingly.
Misha outstretched his arm. "Lead the way, Captain."
-
Elijah sat in the back of a large, red truck. He wondered if every captain had a truck, but he quickly pushed that thought out of his head. It was simply a coincidence.
For a second he thought he could hear his truck bed creaking and his whole body tensed.
Riley's voice came back in just when he needed it.
"So what's playing in those headphones of yours?"
"We will judge you," Misha declared.
"Don't listen to him. I won't judge," Riley reassured.
"But I will."
Elijah adjusted himself, pulling the duffle bag into his lap. He thought for a moment, then wondered if he could get away with ignoring them. He wasn't afraid of judgement, that's for cowards, he just didn't want to talk to them.
He finally said, "Rock."
Elijah could see the glint of Riley's sharp smile in the mirror and he flicked his gaze to the window.
"That was a lot of thinking for such a bare bones answer."
"You said you wouldn't judge," Elijah mumbled.
"Not judging! Not judging..." Riley tapped the steering wheel.
Misha sent Elijah a look. "We gotta expand your tastes."
"My tastes are fine," Elijah resisted.
"It won't be painful, I promise. We can go to this cool old CD shop I know... We'll make a day of it."
Elijah weighed that idea in his mind, then sent Misha a muted look.
"I can come too," Riley said encouragingly.
"Yeah," Misha agreed. "You need to expand your collection anyway. It'll be fun. What do you say?"
Elijah huffed. "I'll think about it."
That seemed to quell them for the time being.
He'd have to see the shop first. He wanted a chance to get acclimated. He wouldn't tell them that, of course. He didn't want to talk more than he had to.
He had to get used to the area eventually, hopefully sooner than later, but he was still reeling from what happened in Berlin.
He slowly brought a hand to his throat and ran his fingers over the raised skin. He clenched his jaw and tried to stop himself from grinding his teeth. He was glad Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dee hadn't asked about it. He was sure they had questions they didn't actually want to know the answers to.
Or maybe he was full of himself.
Elijah ran a hand over his face and sighed heavily. He didn't know if he thought himself into being tired, or if there really was truth to their insisting.
Almost on cue, Riley said, "I knew you were tired."
"I am not."
"Okay," Riley said in a sing-song voice that Elijah didn't believe for a second, "I'm just saying, there's probably about thirty more minutes until we get to the dorms."
Elijah paid no attention to his insinuation. "I'm not staying in the dorms."
"Not yet," Misha agreed, "said you could stay with me. I'm sticking by that."
Riley sucked his teeth. Elijah almost wanted to do the same in solidarity. It wasn't preferable to stay with Mikhail, but he had no other option. He hoped he was out of his apartment as much as possible.
His thoughts started to consume him. He rubbed the scar on his throat and swallowed his spit. The car suddenly started to feel really small. Every time he closed his eyes he could feel a door slamming shut. Complete emptiness.
Alone.
He attempted to keep his eyes open until they began to water and he was afraid he'd burst into tears.
He finally said, "You don't have to let me stay."
"It's fine, really, you'll barely even notice we're living together. It's better than you staying on the streets."
Elijah wanted to object but he clenched his teeth instead. He won't let it happen again. He won't sleep a wink.
Not until he's sure he's safe.
Riley finally chimed in with, "Just because you're staying there doesn't mean you're gonna be locked away. I mean, we're all adults, right?"
Misha stayed silent. Elijah reluctantly said, "Right."
Riley took an unsteady breath and decided to stay quiet for the rest of the ride.