The steady hum of the train moving down the track was almost soporific, almost. If it ahdn’t been for the book that Elijah had bought at the station back in Southampton then he would have fallen asleep hours ago. He’d noticed vaguely, as he’d sat there reading a murder mystery set in the seventeen hundreds, that people seemed to be avoiding him. He’d noticed the way women had moved to sit across from him or even next to him, before realising that the gold band one his left hand was in fact curled around his fourth finger. Then, they’d visibly deflated in confidence and slunk away to find another scarlet seat on the train. He wanted the ring gone and it would be as soon as he got to the station. It wasn’t that he wanted to flirt with nameless women but he knew that it upset Selene, no matter how many times he’d told her that it was all for show, that he didn’t doubt that in secret, Mira was carrying on with someone also.
This month, Elijah had left Bulgaria under the pretence of going to Paris to work. He’d spent a week in Lille instead, with Harry and his kids. Astrid had been absent, as ever, and so the two had spent the week on the beach with Harry’s children. It had made Elijah miss his own towards the end of the week and so on Friday he’d spent the evening sending owls to Fauve and Thierry. He’d not sent one to Mira though and he’d wondered whether it had been a good choice on his part. He’d gotten over it soon enough though and began on the second part of his journey - to London, England where he’d spend the next three or four weeks with Selene. Perhaps, he’d even tell another little white lie and claim to be working through the next month also. He’d have to pop home at some time if he did that, if only to see his family. There was no sure guarantee he’d run into Mira but it was likely. Perhaps he’d get off easily though - dinner with his father.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Elijah’s train pulled into King’s Cross Station. He closed his book and tucked it into the leather satchel he’d slung over his shoulders that morning. He kicked his duffle bag out from under his feet, into the aisle, and got up to retrieve it before walking up towards the doors that, to his delight, had already opened. Elijah swung his duffle bag onto his shoulder and jumped out of the train and onto the platform. He lifted his eyes up to the signs above his head and bit his lip before following the black arrow towards what he assumed was the exit. Thankfully it was where the crowd that had come off of the train were moving towards so it was vaguely promising. Sure enough, the large doors in the foyer opened out into the world beyond and Elijah picked up pace.
At twenty-eight, give or take a few months, Elijah looked as if he’d barely aged. He’d matured somewhat since the first time he’d actually met Selene in Paris but then again, so had she. She grew more beautiful every day and he often felt angry and frustrated that he couldn’t always be there to curl up in bed with her at night, or give her a kiss in the morning. They had these precious weeks together though, when he could do just that. Sometimes she’d be working, so their time together was streamlined to the evenings, but also sometimes that was a good thing because it meant he could get the work done that he needed in the studio that was her home. Why she lived there he didn’t know but he supposed it was convenient. It seemed right, almost and this studio actually had a kitchen. They’d been together something like ten years, in secret and he didn’t know how they’d done it. The desire, he supposed, and the raw and powerful need for each other.
Of course Elijah loved Mira but that was the Pureblood way, wasn’t it? He could never justify what he was doing but he couldn’t bring himself to end it. Over the years he’d tried. He’d tried to brush her away, to forget about it, yet somehow he always ended up coming back to her, kissing her and telling her he loved her. And he did, it was no lie, but Elijah knew he was walking on fragile ice. He could do it though. He’d been doing it for ten years.
Hailing a taxi saved him time and before he knew it, he was outside the building the studio was in. Elijah jumped up the steps and opened the door, striding down the hallway towards the stairs. He took two at a time, bounding up the stairs. Once he made it to their level, the little old lady from next door emerged to collect her milk. She looked up and her face brightened at the sight of him. Elijah grinned and slowed, walking slowly towards her. She brought her hand up and ducked down so she could pat his face. “Go and see her, Eli.” She implored. “She’s been terribly sad lately. Oh! Here,” the lady turned around and bustled into her apartment. She soon returned though, with a celebrations tin. Elijah raised an eyebrow and she patted the top with a smile on her face. “Chocolate cake. Tell her it’s from me. Oh, and tell her that I’m making macaroons in the week so if she wants a tray full then she only needs to pop round.”
Elijah chuckled, thanked the old lady and gave her a kiss on the cheek before walking up the hall to the door in which the studio was behind. Elijah fumbled with his keys as he struggled to balance the tin and the duffle bag, and after a few moments, he got the key into the lock. He opened the door and tossed his bag onto the floor, the keys into the bowl on the table pushed up against the wall that was to the left of the door, and closed the infernal thing behind him, shutting out the world. Elijah took his satchel off of his shoulders and dropped that down with the duffle before slipping his jacket off and hanging it up on the hook. He slipped his shoes off and picked up the cake tin where he’d put it down on the table and took it into the kitchen.
From the kitchen, Elijah could hear the shower going. He smiled and flicked the kettle on before shouting to her, “Selene! Do you want a cup of tea?” How very like him, nigh on breaking in and offering to make her some tea. Classic.
by 
