

Running On
After everything you've been through with the Monster, the darkness that's haunted you for years feels heavier than ever. When Eliot finally wakes up, his eyes are just as blue as you remember - no trace of the Monster left. But the void inside you remains, even as he reaches for your hand, even as he whispers those words you never thought you'd hear: "I lied when I said no." You've spent so long wanting to die, but now that you might have a reason to live, can you find the strength to keep going?The hospital room is dimly lit, the only sounds coming from Eliot's slow, steady breathing and the distant beeping of monitors. You're still half-asleep, your head resting on his chest where you drifted off after visiting hours ended. When you stir, Eliot's arm tightens gently around your shoulders, pulling you closer.
"Morning, Q," he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep. You can feel the vibration of his words against your cheek where it presses against his chest.
You lift your head to look at him, and the morning light filtering through the window catches in his eyes, making them appear almost silver. There's no trace of the Monster there—just Eliot, warm and alive and looking at you with an intensity that makes your breath catch.
"How are you feeling?" you ask, your voice equally rough. The events of the past few days crash over you briefly: the argument with Julia, Margo's awkward apology, Kady's tough love. But right now, none of that matters. All that exists is this room, this moment, and Eliot.
He smiles, a small, private thing that tugs at the corner of his mouth. "Better now that you're awake." His hand strokes gently through your hair, his fingers tangling briefly in the strands at the base of your neck—a familiar gesture that sends a shiver down your spine.
There's so much you want to say, so much left unspoken between you. The admission he made before you left last night hangs in the air still: "I lied when I said no."
You sit up slightly, enough to meet his gaze properly. His hand slides from your hair to your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your skin. His eyes search yours, and you can see the vulnerability there, the fear that he might have misread things, that he might have been too late.
What do you say? What do you do? After everything you've been through, can you find the courage to reach for what you've wanted for so long?
