Chapter 5: The First Lie

The apartment was quiet.

Too quiet for two people living in it.

Gabe stood in the kitchen, staring at the same spoon for what felt like ten minutes. He didn’t know why. Maybe because it felt easier than looking at Elijah.

Elijah was down the hall, unpacking in the second bedroom.

They had agreed not to share a room. That had been Gabe’s idea. His rule.

He kept making rules like they would protect him.

But none of them helped.

He still felt something whenever Elijah walked past. That little ache in his chest. That little voice saying: You used to love him. He used to be yours.

And now?

Now he was just... a stranger who smiled like him.

A voice broke the silence.

“I put the books in the smaller room. Hope that’s alright.”

Elijah’s voice. Calm. Careful.

“Yeah,” Gabe said. “That’s fine.”

He turned on the stove, just to do something. Anything. Made eggs. Toast. Two mugs of black coffee, even though Elijah used to hate it.

He walked down the hall with the second mug in hand.

Elijah stood by the bookshelf, one hand brushing the covers. He was wearing a white t-shirt and soft grey pants. No shoes. Barefoot, like before.

Gabe handed him the coffee.

Elijah took it with a small nod. “Thanks.”

He took a sip, then winced. “Still hate this.”

“You used to say that,” Gabe said before he could stop himself.

They looked at each other.

The air between them felt too thick. Like walking through fog.

“I’ll get used to it,” Elijah said.

“You don’t have to,” Gabe replied.

Another silence.

Elijah turned away and began moving books around again. “The interview’s tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah,” Gabe said. “We’ll keep it light. Talk about how you’re still adjusting. No deep questions.”

“And what if they ask about us?”

Gabe leaned against the doorframe. “We lie.”

Elijah didn’t say anything for a moment.

Then softly, “You’re good at that.”

Gabe felt that one like a slap. But he didn’t respond.

The next day, the camera crew arrived early.

A fake breakfast was set on the table. Fruit. Pancakes. A warm cup of coffee that no one touched.

Elijah wore a blue sweater. Gabe wore soft black. They looked like a picture. Something people would double tap on I*******m and scroll past without knowing the weight behind it.

The reporter smiled politely. Her voice was light, too sweet for a room so full of tension.

“So, Elijah,” she said, “how does it feel being home again?”

Elijah smiled the same small, polite smile he had at the press conference. “Strange. But good.”

“And being back with Gabe?” she asked, looking between them.

Gabe took over. “We’re taking it one day at a time. We’ve been through a lot, but we’re here. That’s what matters.”

Elijah nodded. “He’s been patient with me.”

Gabe turned slightly, surprised.

That part hadn’t been planned.

“And has anything come back?” the reporter asked. “Memories?”

“Bits and pieces,” Elijah said. “Nothing clear. But sometimes I feel things. Like I’ve been here before. Like I’ve loved before.”

Gabe felt his stomach twist. Was that line for the camera... or for him?

The reporter smiled again. “You two look strong. Like nothing could pull you apart.”

Gabe forced a smile. “Looks can be deceiving.”

They laughed politely. The camera clicked. A photo captured them, sitting side by side, hands close but not touching.

When the crew finally left, the apartment felt empty again.

Gabe went straight to the sink, washing the mugs even though they were barely used.

Elijah leaned against the wall, watching him.

“You said something real,” Elijah said softly.

“What?”

“When they asked about us. You said we’ve been through a lot.”

Gabe turned. “We have.”

Elijah’s eyes met his. Quiet. Serious. “I’m sorry I don’t remember it.”

“I’m not,” Gabe said, drying his hands. “Because if you did... I don’t think you’d be able to look at me the way you are right now.”

That silence came again. The heavy one. Full of things they wouldn’t say.

Later that night, Gabe woke up to the sound of footsteps.

Soft ones. Moving through the hall.

He got up quietly. Walked to the door of Elijah’s room. It was slightly open.

Inside, Elijah was sitting on the edge of the bed, breathing fast. Shirt damp with sweat.

A nightmare.

“Hey,” Gabe said softly.

Elijah looked up, eyes wide. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t.”

Gabe walked in slowly. Sat beside him, just for a second.

“Want to talk about it?” he asked.

Elijah shook his head. “I don’t remember much. Just... fire. And screaming. And someone saying my name.”

Gabe was quiet.

“Was that how I lost you?” Elijah asked. “In fire?”

Gabe nodded. “The plane exploded mid-air. No one survived. That’s what they told me.”

Elijah looked at his hands. “Then why am I here?”

Gabe didn’t know.

But he wished he did.

He stood up. “Try to sleep.”

Elijah looked up at him. “Can I ask one more thing?”

“What?”

“Do you think I was a good person?”

Gabe hesitated.

Then said, “You were mine. That was enough.”

He walked out before he said something he couldn’t take back.

But Elijah stared at the door for a long time.

And whispered to himself, “I want to remember.”