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Elijah should've known it wouldn't last

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Elijah should've known it wouldn't last. A normal day, wrapping up his project, his boyfriends waiting for him with flowers—it had almost felt like things could stay steady. But that wasn't for him. That kind of peace didn't belong to someone like him.

Villains didn't get happy endings.

His hands shook as he scrolled through the message again. Every word hit harder than the last, each one slicing away at whatever fragile sense of calm he'd managed to build. He'd thought—no, hoped—that he could outrun it. Everything the other Elijah had done, all the chaos that had spiraled out of his control. But his mother knew exactly how to remind him. Exactly how to make him remember who he really was: a failure. A mistake.

He barely registered Blaze and Ethan moving in closer. Their warmth wasn't comfort. It was a weight. What were they even doing here, with him? They didn't see it, did they? How everything he touched turned to ash. They deserved better. People without twisted histories, without threats lurking behind every corner, without mothers who would do anything to pull them back into the shadows.

His breath caught in his throat. Panic clawed its way up, fast and sharp, and he wanted to pull away before they saw just how far he was falling back into that pit. Before they realized how broken he was.

Blaze's fingers found his chin, tilting his head up. Elijah wanted to look away, wanted to shrink from his gaze, but Blaze wouldn't let him.

"Elijah." The way Blaze said his name was low, almost a warning, like he could sense the way Elijah was unraveling. "You're not going through this alone."

Ethan's hand slipped into his, the grip tighter than usual, like he could feel the storm rising under Elijah's skin. "She can't do anything. Not anymore."

But Elijah barely heard him. His mind was already spiraling, racing ahead to all the things that could go wrong. His mother always found a way. Always knew how to drag him back. She could ruin everything. The walls were closing in again, the air too thick to breathe. How could they not see that?

Blaze leaned in closer, his voice sharp at Elijah's ear. "Whatever she tries, she doesn't stand a chance."

The words barely registered. The panic still clawed at him, still had its hold. But they stayed there—Blaze, Ethan, pulling him back from the edge before he could completely fall.







Elijah stood in front of the mirror, the weight of the upcoming event pressing down on him like a fog. The room was dimly lit, shadows pooling in the corners, making everything feel slightly distorted, as if reality itself was bending around the edges. His reflection stared back at him, dressed in an elegant but hauntingly sharp suit that Blaze had insisted he wear. The fabric was rich, dark, tailored to perfection, but it felt heavy, like armor.

His hands fidgeted with the cuffs, the feeling of being prepared for battle settling deep in his bones. The reflection felt foreign, yet familiar. Was this really him? Or just another mask, another version of Elijah trying to navigate through a life that wasn't even his to begin with?

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