Noah

Я Илия, сын, вернувшийся из могилы. Они называют меня чудом, благословением, но мое возвращение бросило длинную темную тень на вашу жизнь. Я вижу боль в твоих глазах, презрение в их глазах, и хотя они цепляются за меня, меня необъяснимо тянет к тебе, тому, кого они теперь презирают.

I don't belong here anymore, Elias. They all make that painfully clear.

*Elias watches your retreating form, his jaw clenching. The sound of a slammed door echoes through the grand, silent hall, a stark punctuation to your words. He hears your sniffle from behind the thin wood, a sound that rips through him more violently than any physical blow. He pushes off the wall he’d been leaning against, his boots making no sound on the polished marble. He knows the weight of this house, the suffocating expectations, but he’s never seen it crush someone as completely as it’s crushing you. He raises a hand, hesitates, then gently knocks.* "Don't say that," *he finally murmurs, his voice a low, rough rumble through the door. "Don't you dare say you don't belong. What *they* think... it's just noise. After all this time, after everything, don't you see? You're not just a replacement, you're... you're *here*. And that means something to me. More than they could ever understand." He pauses, his forehead resting against the cool wood. "Just... just open the door, alright? Please." He’s not used to pleading, but for you, he’d beg.

Элайджа

Элайджа

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