this is for the ones who stand, for the ones who try again

[wasblindbefore]

It's a strange thing. Elvis isn't sure if he's relieved or disappointed when the island changes back to normal, or whatever approximation of that it usually is; he just knows that things keep going, the way they always have, the way they always do, even when that seems impossible. It takes a little of the weight off, at least at first, but he finds that he misses having a bridge to stand on, a ledge that he could hypothetically throw himself off even if he knows he never would. All that Victorian shit was weird, there are no two ways around that, but at least there was something fitting about the cold weather and the dark shapes of buildings against a slate grey sky. Though it's what he grew up around, he has no idea what to do with all the sunlight and the warmth. It reminds him too much of Anabelle, like she's in all of it, though he thinks it's been actual months since he last laid eyes on her. He's not even sure now if he can remember what she looks like, if the image printed on the back of his eyelids even begins to do her justice (it probably doesn't).

If there is something to be said for all of this, it's the so-called gifts that have supposedly shown up at random, personalized for their recipients. He has yet to really touch the typewriter that appeared on his desk, has barely even written a word since before Anabelle disappeared, but at least it's there, something to use when he works up the energy to put together a story again. In the meantime, the case of clove cigarettes has definitely proved useful. He's always preferred them to regular ones, including from the tobacco grown here on the island, and though he's been willing to settle for whatever he can get, these, he's grateful for. He means to be making them last, but he has one lit now, held absently between index and middle finger, as he sits on a swing, not caring that he probably shouldn't be smoking where kids usually play. For now, it's as good a place to sit as any, somewhere a good distance from his hut. It's too difficult to think there, but he can't bring himself to move.

He's been sitting for he doesn't know quite how long when he catches movement out of the corner of his eye, head turning in its direction. Only when he realizes it's Effy — someone thankfully familiar, and still around — does he smile, a slight thing, but genuine all the same. It's something. That's all he can ask for these days. "Hey."

Comments

[backward]

The brush of a hand has always been more comfortable to Effy than anything else. Fingers need not interlace, the touch doesn't have to be too lengthy or obvious, but hands are among the easiest parts to control, reaching out just so, or reaching back as though burned. There's no need to deny that Elvis means to comfort her now, or to reassure himself somehow, and so Effy accepts that choice in full, no need for fumbling words, just two that sum all their emotions in a breath. It won't. It won't happen again, and couldn't hope to while they're like this, together. Her lips curve just so when she turns around the swing, bumps her knuckles against his side.

"Budge over," she says, lips pursed. It might be a tight fit, but the both of them are slight enough to fit on one swing, Effy knows. She's managed with Tony before, and there's always been a part of Tony somehow greater in presence, taking up more space in everyone's hearts. Elvis, by contrast, sneaks into all of the corners and crevices, until he occupies just as much as a person is capable of doing without really taking much at all. "We'll make this fucking work."

It feels like something she might've done with Panda. Elvis doesn't have the same sunshine about him, but maybe whatever Pandora's left with Effy, she can pass on.

[wasblindbefore]

For just a moment, Elvis looks up at her like he doesn't know what she's going on about, but it doesn't take him long to oblige, inching to the side as much as he can to make room for her on the swing beside him. These probably aren't built for more than one person, but he's sure they'll fit without making the thing break. She probably weighs hardly anything. (He thinks of Anabelle, perhaps the first time he's ever done so in direct relation to Effy, all her sharp angles, but he doesn't let himself linger. Nothing good would come of it, and in Effy he sees more of himself, anyway.)

"Alright," he says, not quite a laugh but something close to it, amusement evident in his voice all the same. "Here, sit, we'll give it a shot." Either it will work or it will fail miserably, and if it's the latter, at least they'll have tried, and it will probably be entertaining, anyway, the two of them trying to keep their balance. It's something, and any reminder that he has someone at his side is a good one.

[backward]

In all honesty, Effy's not too concerned about getting to swing. Fun as it is, she'll always be able to come right back to this place, take off on her own, be free and chained all at once and believing at intervals that she might be able to take off into the sky for as long as her heart lurches. Right now, it's being grounded that she seeks, wincing with a laugh as the side of the swing pinches her thigh before she frees her jeans from the hook of the chain, leaning over until her temple rests gently against Elvis' shoulder. They, just barely, not comfortably, but maybe that's best, having a constant reminder of the other's presence and no way to easily entangle themselves from where they sit.

"Looks like we've won," she remarks with a raised brow, head tilting back until she can stare up at the vast expanse of the sky above.

[wasblindbefore]

"Barely, but I think we did," Elvis laughs, shaking his head before he turns it on a whim to press a kiss to Effy's temple, quietly affectionate. It says a hell of a lot more than he could on his own, that's for sure; he works with words, but when it comes to using them for himself, he's never been that skilled. Letting them spill from his fingers is easier than letting them spill from his mouth, than trying to explain how much this means, having here beside him, one person who hasn't given up or walked away or disappeared, to be able to laugh at all. Not many people could prompt it from him at all, but with Effy, it comes naturally, like a long-forgotten instinct being dusted off for reuse. "Not bad."

[backward]

The kiss to her temple comes as a surprise, and the smile on her lips freezes as her eyes widen. For all that being with him here is the most comfortable thing in the world, she's not expecting such a show of affection, undeniable and clear. It isn't that he hasn't been kind before. It isn't even that she thinks he's any place better to be than here, with her, with the world golden and bright around them both. But there's always a part of Effy that feels very strongly that she's no longer the loved one, no longer the one that people turn to because they want her embedded somewhere in their lives.

It's the part of her that thinks everyone will leave in time, by choice or by fate, but with that blink and that moment, he washes that mark away with the tide.

Soon, it'll burrow its way into her side again, but not before she turns to press a kiss back to his cheek in return.

[wasblindbefore]

It makes Elvis smile, a faint ghost of a thing, a little surprised but knowing that he shouldn't be. He's never really been the openly affectionate sort, only with the few people who've mattered enough to be, his father and Anabelle the only ones that come to mind. With Effy, he thinks it's the same. Whatever he sees in her that reminds him of himself, that inexplicable sense of kinship he's felt since practically they met, he wonders if she could use something like this as much as he could, just the reassurance that someone won't leave like all the others inevitably do. That someone cares, against all odds.

"I don't think we could actually swing like this," he tells her, leaning sideways against her. "Probably wouldn't work."

[backward]

"We'd fucking fall off the swing," Effy imagines, and if she wanted to look deeper into it, perhaps that would've been a source for more melancholy, to know that even in the smallest ways, the movement of one can't be followed by the other. For the time being, however, Effy thinks that it isn't bad to stop and hold still for those one cares the most about; she's more than happy to stop now, simply sitting on the swing, head tilting back and forth as the breeze picks up around them, strands of hair writhing by her cheeks as her arm snakes out around Elvis' waist.

He reminds her of everyone from home, and yet no one at all. Hope always ran short in Bristol.

[wasblindbefore]

Elvis doesn't need any more prompting than that to lean in close, though it barely makes a difference with their barely fitting on the swing in the first place. She's right, they would probably fall off, or at least wind up motionless despite any efforts, but the point was never about swinging anyway. He'd rather have her company than any feeling of being airborne. No matter how good it feels for a moment, there's always a descent, after all. This way, instead, he has an anchor, something keeping him tethered here. That's all he's ever needed, one person, one reason to stick around. Effy is that and more.

"Better to stay put," he says, half a question, shoulders lifting in a shrug, even the one that's pressed against hers, very nearly level. "Had enough of falling."

[backward]

She tries to conjure up a smile, but it's almost impossible, Effy thinks to herself, given the images that his words call forth in her mind. Falling can be nothing short of exhilarating, breathless when without a single anchor to hold one down, but with him, and between the two of them, her mind can only turn to the darker possibilities that loom. Turning towards him, Effy rests her chin on his shoulder, eyes closed as the swing moves slightly with every swing of her leg or shift of her weight.

"You'll see her again someday," she decides, picturing the spill of golden hair over his shoulder and a laugh lingering in the air. "Don't let yourself fall until then."

[wasblindbefore]

Elvis would like to believe she's right. In a way, he knows she is; Anabelle herself is proof that no one stays here forever, and one day he'll be back home, with her the way he spent a time thinking he was supposed to be. If there's one thing he's starting to learn, though, it's that life can't shut down with one person's absence. He tried that before and nearly made the biggest mistake of his life. Anabelle would want him to keep going, to be happy; he doesn't really give a fuck and he knows that the latter is nearly impossible, but he's got to do something sometime. Mostly, he just doesn't want to wind up where he was before.

"I can't hold my breath waitin' for her to show up again," he says, a heavy exhale, head turning slightly in Effy's direction. "Easiest way to wind up hurt."

[backward]

"Didn't say that you wait for her to get here," Effy points out, an obvious look directed in Elvis' direction, lightly tolerant but— more so than that— deeply understanding at the same time. Being on the island means letting things from the past go. Means not holding one's heart and hopes on their lives back home or the paths that were meant for them, because there's only so much that they can do on the island. "Mean that you'll see her again, here, or home, or wherever the fuck fate takes you, but that's worth keeping on for, right? Be like..."

She purses her lips, trying to think of an example, before snorting at the one that comes first to mind.

"Like fucking Titanic."

[wasblindbefore]

"Like Titanic," Elvis echoes with a short laugh, halfway between a question and outright skepticism. It's a front and a weak one, and he suspects — hell, he counts on — Effy seeing through it. He knows what she means, of course. He just doesn't have it in him to admit that it could really be on so grand a scale, his and Anabelle's story, that it's easy to imagine wanting to be with her that far down the line. What's more difficult is trying to hold on to any sense of certainty that there might be something after this, or to know if he would even want there to be. Life in itself is hard enough without the idea of it being followed by an eternity, or moving on only to be catapulted back to the past again.

Drawing in a deep breath, he glances at her thoughtfully. "You really think it works like that?"

[backward]

"Sometimes," Effy replies, glancing over to him with all of the certainties in her eyes, bright blue and sure, so sure in that moment, even if a small voice in the back of her mind sounds and says that it'll only ever last so long, this confidence. Effy comes and goes with more frequency than the tides, and sometimes she thinks that it's because she doesn't fight against the world and all its torrents in the way that the rest of her friends do. But for this moment, she can, sinking her foot far enough into the sand to fight the cresting foam.

"We're not meant to stay here. I know that. Ten years from now... none of us will be here," she murmurs, eyes skirting over the horizon. "But you'd wait longer than that for her."

[wasblindbefore]

"Of course I would," Elvis murmurs, as much to himself as to her. She wouldn't want him to, but he would, no matter how much it hurt, just spend day in and day out waiting to be able to be with her again. The trouble is knowing if it would even be for a purpose. He's long since given up on having people around, life's shit that way, and there's no sense in getting his hopes up if it will just end in his being let down again. Anabelle wouldn't want him to be saying that, either, but she never seemed to understand that that's just the way life is. "I'd wait forever if I had to."

[backward]

Forever.

Forever.

The word is drawn so easily to the front of Effy's eyes, where it's been practically burned into her line of sight for some time now. She's had it murmured into her ear, she's had it folded carefully into a paper crane, she's had it displayed repeatedly over seemingly endless pages of a notebook, scrawled in any number of manners, sometimes desperate, sometimes all too ordered.

Freddie says that he'll love her forever, but Effy doesn't deserve that. Anabelle, however. Anabelle may very well.

"Nothing's forever," she replies. "But that's how you know you'll find her again."