Chapter 35: Tears For No Reason.
Elian had tears streaming down his face when he woke up.
He didn’t know the exact reason why they were there.
But they were there, and it was his problem to deal with now.
Maybe it was the mountain of things that happened yesterday, maybe the conversations, maybe just the fact that he had come to understand just how heavy the stakes had become for his general existence.
He simply couldn’t stop the tears.
He tried his best to stop them, actually. By Biting his cheeks, by taking deep breaths, by hugging his staff who was pulsing faintly most likely trying to comfort him.
But no matter what he did, they just wouldn’t stop.
All of his thoughts blended into each other, events from yesterday repeating over each other until he couldn’t tell what was what.
"Elian?"
Bellamy was already crossing the room before Elian had fully registered he’d spoken, dropping to a crouch beside the bed with none of his usual performative energy, just quiet, immediate focus.
"Hey. Hey, you alright? I’m here, listen to my voice."
He didn’t reach out right away, just stayed close, present, the way Elian imagined you were supposed to approach something spooked. Which he still didn’t understand how he was so spooked.
"Can you breathe with me? In four, follow my lead. You don’t have to talk yet."
Elian tried, and it came out ragged and uneven, but he tried all the same, staff still clutched tight against his chest, pulsing that same slow, steady warmth against his ribs like it was trying to lend him some of its own calm.
"I don’t—" He had to stop, gasp in a breath, try again. "I don’t know why I’m crying."
"That’s okay. You don’t have to know right now."
Bellamy finally moved closer, careful, giving him every chance to pull away if he needed to, and when Elian didn’t, he settled a hand lightly on his shoulder instead.
"I know you had a lot happen yesterday. Like, an absurd amount, nobody’s built to process all of that in one day and just be fine the next morning."
"But everyone’s counting on me not to fall apart."
"Nobody’s counting on that. That’s not a real thing anyone actually needs from you."
Bellamy’s voice stayed low, steady, none of his usual chaos in it at all.
"Whatever Vale wants from you, she doesn’t need you fine, at least immediately. She needs you trained, and that too only eventually. Which is a completely different thing, and training works a lot better when you’re allowed to have a morning like this first instead of pretending it away."
Elian pressed the heel of his hand against his eyes, furious at how little that actually helped, the tears still coming in slow, exhausted waves rather than the sharp burst he’d expected.
"I froze a classroom yesterday,"
He said, voice cracking.
"I found out a cult wants me dead. I found out my staff is a... a person, a dragon, who’s been trapped for I don’t even know how long. And somewhere in the middle of all that I apparently also have to worry about whether people like my face."
"Okay, that last one’s genuinely funny, even right now, and you’re gonna have to talk to me about the cult wanting you dead part, that’s new information."
Bellamy said, and something in his tone was gentle enough that it didn’t land as a joke so much as a small, deliberate crack of light let into the room.
"But yeah. That’s... that’s a lot, Ellie. That’s more than a lot. I’m not going to pretend it isn’t. And I’m sorry that there’s so much you had to deal with it all alone."
Elian let out a shaky breath, the tears finally starting to slow, exhaustion settling into the space grief had been occupying a moment ago.
"I don’t know how to carry all of that."
"You don’t have to carry it alone. I already told you that yesterday, and I meant it."
Bellamy’s hand stayed steady on his shoulder, grounding rather than demanding.
"You can carry it badly, for a while, if that’s what today needs. I’ll sit here for as long as that takes. I know we’ve technically only known each other for two days now, but I’m willing to go a long way with you if you let me."
All Elian managed in answer was a weak, shaky nod.
It took him the better part of an hour to finally calm down, his thoughts settling into something resembling it’s usual chaos instead of the uncontrolled, overwhelming tidal wave that it had been when it woke up.
Bellamy had scooted closer to him somewhere along the breakdown, gently patting his head as he held him in an embrace. Elian couldn’t really see his face, but he could tell that his friend was worried from how low his voice had dropped.
"So you’re telling me that the reason Vale’s giving you five special classes is because of some ancient cult is trying to kill you?"
Elian didn’t answer.
Bellamy continued rubbing his head in the same gentle manner.
"That sounds... terrifying actually. I can understand how you ended up like this now, I think. It’s definitely a whole lot to carry, especially when you used to be just a normal kid less than two months ago."
A long exhale.
"You know," Bellamy went on, voice still low, still careful, "I’ve spent my whole life being told the most interesting thing about me was going to be who my family married me off to. That’s it. That was the ceiling. And here you are, two months out from being a spare heir nobody expected anything from, and you’re apparently important enough for an actual ancient demon cult to want you dead."
A soft, tired huff of almost-laughter.
"I don’t say that to make you feel better about the terror part. I say it because I think you still don’t understand that whatever’s happening to you—the good parts, not just the awful ones—is genuinely rare. People don’t get handed a shot at mattering like this. Most of us just get told where to stand."
Elian shifted slightly against him, still too drained to lift his head properly, but listening.
" But then again, I’m not saying that to guilt you into being grateful for being in the center of whatever that is," Bellamy added quickly, feeling the shift. " What I’m saying is, I think somewhere under all that panic, there’s a version of you that’s going to look back on this morning and recognize it as the exact point everything actually started. And I’d like to have been here for that part. Not just the crying part, the whole thing. And I’m glad I did manage to be here for that part, even if it was... a little out of the blue."
Elian let out a breath that was almost a laugh, wet and unsteady, but real.
"That’s a very roundabout way of saying you like me."
"I contain multitudes," Bellamy said, and Elian could hear the grin creeping back into his voice even without seeing it, some of the room’s heaviness finally starting to lift.
"Also I already told you, you’re stuck with me even if you don’t like it. Two days, five lifetimes, whatever. Doesn’t matter. I don’t really do things halfway."
Elian finally pulled back enough to look at him properly, eyes still red-rimmed, and found Bellamy watching him with none of his usual performance—just quiet, steady warmth, waiting patiently for whatever came next.
And for the first time since forever, Elian found himself actually looking at someone’s face, taking it in instead of letting it flow past his mind.
It was only now he noticed that Bellamy had that gentle, concerningly wise look that Elian had ever only seen from his father and nowhere else. His large, purple tinted eyes were looking directly at him, not his status, not his staff, but past all that, directly at him.
At Elian, the person.
The morning wind flowing in from the open window next to him played with his black hair in a way that looked deliberate, the sun shining off of it just in the perfect way to enhance the purplish hint that all of him seemed to have.
Elian took a deep breath.
"Thank you," he said, simply, having nothing more articulate left in him this morning.
"Anytime." Bellamy squeezed his shoulder once, gently, before finally easing back to give him some space.
"Now. Breakfast. You need actual food, and I think I’ll need to hear the dragon part again, only if you want to this time obviously. Because I don’t think I fully processed it the first time through your very impressive sobbing."