Eliot lowered himself to his knees on the floor of their bedroom, with one of his hands resting against his thigh, while he reached out to set the three tea lights down in the triangle shape. Once they were set, his other hand came to rest against his other thigh, and his eyes lifted to look across the set up towards Kylo. Eliot's expression carried with it a sense of frustration, uncertainty, and just a dose of fear that he was trying to keep masked. This entire spell had been taught to him by Julia not even two weeks back but it's intended purpose was not to open his mind up to his lover so he could potentially witness every event that had ever happened to the man. No, this spell was learned by the magician as an attempt at a kindness and to promote healing for his former partner and best friend. He'd wanted to share a happy moment, something unseen by Quentin, of Rupert. He'd thought it might help him. It wasn't unbeknown to Eliot how Quentin was capable of fixating and his fixation had shifted onto their child from another time and another world. Eliot missed him too but Eliot kept reminding himself that they raised a good man and he took comfort in that.
And it wasn't as though they hadn't been prepared for the possibility that they might have to leave their boy behind should the mosaic ever be completed. In the hypothetical, when he and Quentin would spend nights lying awake thinking about being torn between duty and their happiness, upon completion they would be whisked away without warning and without delay. It was why they'd always made sure that Rupert knew he was loved and knew what was at risk. It was imperative he never think his parents willfully abandoned him should he not be allowed to cross the barrier of time with them. Once Rupert had grown and had a family of his own, Eliot knew there would be no potential time where their child would join them. Rupert had his own life and it would be cruel to have him come from Fillory of the past to Fillory of the future. Eliot thought it might be cruel to have him come here just as well. Which, of course, didn't mean that should the boy ever arrive, Eliot wouldn't drop to his knees with emotions and pull him into his arms.
Regardless, this spell had an intended purpose and now it had a different one. He swallowed and drew in a long breath. "You ready?" He asked, eyes locked on Kylo.
Kylo reached a hand forward, sliding his fingers against Eliot's, locked and steady despite any of his own trepidation about doing this. He could feel Eliot's concerns, and he understood them. If the situations were reversed, then Kylo would certainly have those concerns. But Eliot didn't need to fear that this would shift anything between them. At least Kylo was as certain of that as he could possibly be not knowing what would come. But he knew Eliot, knew his heart as well as he suspected nearly anyone could. The past was the past, and in Eliot's case there was maybe more of it than would be with someone else, but that didn't make it unsurmountable.
He pressed all of that certainty into Eliot's palm through the touch, and his own sense in the Force. There was no room for doubt here. This would work, and Eliot would be safe, returned to him should the worst happen. Kylo would not fail.
"I'm ready," he told him. The spell and the Force would be working together - hopefully. "You should try to relax," he told the other man gently.
He turned his hand to meet Kylo's and focused on it for a moment, grateful for the contact, as it acted as an anchor for the man. He kept his focus there as an effort to ease his mind and bring forth some calm. There was a minor huff at the suggestion. He knew his lover was right. He needed to relax in order for this to be successful and to try to keep it from being too emotional for either of them.
It just felt easier said than done.
He gave Kylo's hand a squeeze and nodded his head. "I'll do my best," he offered up, before his gaze shifted to look upon the mantel he'd set up. His free hand moved over the top and he brought his fingers together before jerking them upwards, igniting a flame on each of the candles. And then he began to speak the incantation Julia had taught him. His Greek came across effortlessly and there was one final squeeze of Kylo's hand before they tumbled backwards into the darkness of his mind.
Eliot was sat with Petunia by his side, wearing a navy suit that was pressed to perfection, and featured a pale pink button up underneath of the entire ensemble. His elbow rested against his knee, while his hand clasped Petunia's in his own, as his eyes fixated ahead of him at the arch way ahead of them in the courtyard. The sun was low in the sky and the stars were just beginning to be able to be seen. Leia and Han were standing underneath the arches and their voices could be heard, but Eliot's eyes were not focused upon them or their officiate in jedi robes. His gaze was partially to the side and fixed upon Kylo. Though the man looked ready to run off as soon as the ceremony was over, Eliot couldn't help but smile in his direction, with affection that could be felt easily in the memory. It was ever present but also appeared as though it was trying to be contained or explained away, as if the Eliot of the past felt as though it shouldn't be there. But it remained as the memory went on, moving from the ceremony to the reception, with him not wanting to pull away from the company of Kylo.
Soon, though, the memory broke and they were once again in the present of their bedroom. He lifted his eyes to Kylo. "Well?" If Kylo had been able to see it, a simple and relatively easy memory, then they could progress from there.
Kylo had been pulled into the memory easily enough, although it stirred strange emotions seeing this thing he'd seen before through different eyes. But although he could remember Han and Leia himself, it was, after all, where his focus had been through most of the ceremony, this was seeing himself through other eyes - through Eliot's eyes.
As they pulled back out of the memory, and Eliot's voice pulled him back into the presence, Kylo brought his gaze up to Eliot's. He wanted to lean forward and kiss him, but Kylo wasn't certain if that would be distracting to the process more generally so he didn't. Instead he squeezed Eliot's hands. "I saw it," he told him. "This will work," and he was certain of that.
Eliot's eyes were searching Kylo's in those initial moments. He could feel those same feelings being summoned up as though he'd been daydreaming to that evening for some reasons. Once he and Kylo had been a pair, he had been able to look back on that night as a clear indicator of where his interest lay, and how he had been mildly foolish to hold back the way he did; even with his guilt based beliefs that had been present those initial months during his life in Tumbleweed. If Kylo had been able to see it, and to feel it, then this would be able to be the solution. He trusted that Kylo would be able to do his part.
Eliot liked to think of them as flags to draw attention.
And when Kylo affirmed his participation, with the squeeze of his hand, he gave a gentle smile. "You look good against firelight," he told him, because it was easier to give a piece of a compliment then to let his worry rise back to the surface. He gave a return squeeze of the hand. "You'll need to push and navigate once we get deep into this." There would be memories, especially in the earliest of his years, that Eliot couldn't very well summon but had be integral.
And it occurred to him, once again, that this meant that Kylo was about to see something Eliot never wanted him to experience. He didn't want to share his family with him. The conversations about them were easier to allow but for him to see everything? Eliot wasn't thrilled about this. But it was better than a stranger. Then, without much thought on it, he burst out, "I love you." A pause. "You know...in case it doesn't work."
He didn't think they would have a situation like Quentin had experienced. Eliot wouldn't succumb to the maze of his own mind and he wouldn't be lost because of his memories being stolen. Kylo would pull him out or bring him back. One way or another.
"It's too bad Tumbleweed is so hot," Kylo remarked wryly, as Eliot complimented him. "I'd suggest a bonfire after this, because so do you." And generally, Kylo loved the idea. Perhaps in the near future they could go someplace cooler and have such a night with just the two of them. There was something almost appealing to Kylo about making love in front of a fire, although it was a long way from relevant to their current task. He pulled his attention back to the present and nodded.
"I can push if I need to. You're certain you're all right with this?" He asked as he stared intently into Eliot's eyes. This memory had been something they'd both experienced, and it had been something that was pleasant, something that he was certain Eliot hadn't minded him seeing. But later memories might not be. Kylo knew there were things Eliot didn't like to talk about, but they'd dig those all up, in some cases Kylo might be pushing into them, and Eliot would prefer he not.
He reached his hands up, cupping Eliot's cheeks in his fingers. "I love you too."
"That portal is so set on rearranging the town, it should just relocate it entirely one day," he said, knowing that it might be in the realm of possibilities, but he didn't think it likely. Tumbleweed might have changed over and over again between the other journey's they traveled but the one constant was Texas. He'd accepted this as his fate for the foreseeable future. He gave a half smirk. "Or at the very least a fire pit." But having something to look forward to ahead of this current hill was a blessing. It didn't matter what it was that they had planned, just that there was plans.
"You'll need to," Eliot was certain of this. He was weary about bringing down his wards in general. Kylo hadn't ever tried to get into his mind and neither had any of the local telepaths but he'd had them almost iron tight since he could manage doing so. It had been an important and practical lesson at Brakebills and one he didn't slack off on. "Not at all," he admitted because lying to Kylo wasn't something he was terribly capable of. He squeezed his hand again. "But it's the best option of a bad situation."
He didn't try to repress the nervous look that flashed across his face and instead just turned his head enough so he could press his lips to the tips of Kylo's fingers. He was the constant and it would be alright. He wasn't going anywhere.
"If you're certain," Kylo's gaze softened and he watched Eliot for a moment. He had fallen so deeply in love with this man, every piece of him, and whatever he would find in his memories, he knew that it all had made him Eliot. And some of it would be painful, the sort of thing that Eliot wouldn't want to relive, but even those things had brought Eliot to be the person he was now, the person Kylo loved.
The magic was there, but the Force was also there, so for a moment, he kept his fingers on Eliot's face, and watched him intently, reaching out with the Force, but also in, into Eliot's thoughts, and mind, and it was not quite as clear as what had been with the magic, but there were the pieces that Kylo could find. He'd never done this specifically, not with Eliot. And Eliot, for all his emotions were easy for Kylo to sense, had a strong mind. But right now, Kylo was intent upon reaching further in, gentle, not demanding, more the sort of tap on the shoulder that said, 'let me in'. If they combined the Force and the spell…
Eliot didn't let his gaze leave Kylo. The flames still flickered and with the spell still in place, no more words needed to pass to slip back in, and he was well aware of Kylo's gentle attempt to slip back into his thoughts. He allowed one more moment to focus on his lover, his gaze lingering but fond, before he exhaled and the room slipped away once again...
Kylo slipped with him, into memories that began easy and were mundane. It wouldn't have felt any more intrusive than looking in on any other family. It painted a picture of what his early home life had been. Though not so rural that they lacked the basics of technology, the family unit was built around the farm on which their home was located. The house wasn't kept in near as well of shape as the farm itself was. Even with a child's view of his surroundings, it was clear that the money and time was poured into the lands. The house was small and cramped and the air near the house was unable to shake the scent of livestock. Each memory was built with the pressing feel of a certain aspect of the climate of which the memory was taken from, whether it was a true reflection of how the event had been or how Eliot had remembered it. There was either an uncomfortable humid heat, due to a lack of air conditioning for much of those early years, or a slight chill because of the age of the home. But those early memories gave a sense of the family just as much as they did the environment. It was clear from the start that there was a trust and ease with his Mother. She was the one that the young boy in these memories was chasing behind, practically hanging onto the apron strings. The general feel towards his Father was distance. The man was rarely seen in those memories for he was out in the fields for long stretches of time. Many of Eliot's memories of the man seemed to center around the dining table or the pew in the church, which was a constant memory. But even with the distance, there was an unease in Eliot's mind that was attached to the man, even so far back.
Three other children were present in these memories. They were older, close in age together and comparatively to Eliot as well, as though they'd been back to back to back. One by one, there was memories of those other children becoming more and more absent from Eliot's thoughts, as they were sent off to start school and then eventually to join their Father in the fields. There was a flash of memory of his Father, gripping the eldest of the brothers by the shoulder and yanking him towards the door even though there was no longer any sun to guide their work. The very distinct statement of 'You can come back inside when you are finished' seemed to stick out from that moment. Eliot, as an observer, was hidden behind the panel of a doorway, with small fingers pressed against the wood to try to glance at the scene. He would go scrambling away from the panel and the situation when he was caught snooping, 'You want to join him?' was shouted in his direction, sending him flying for the stairs.
And soon memories of the farm had shifted from living upon a farm to actually being out in the thick of it. He would be crouched next to his Father, nervous and alert, but listening as the man would explain to him the expectations he had. There were moments of Eliot out collecting eggs, milking goats, or tossing hay. But all the while, there were more pleasant memories mixed in, of the boy standing next to his Mother in the kitchen rolling out biscuit dough and singing along to a recording of The Music Man. And there was moments in those early memories of Eliot actually spending time in the company of his brothers, but those memories began to fade, as distance grew between him and the other three.
Siblings were nothing Kylo had any knowledge of, but the memories themselves held a sort of truthful emotion to them, that he understood too well. The person you felt safest with, the people you didn't, and the inevitable feeling that you didn't fit into a place or a family and shouldn't be there. Those emotions were all a piece of it, and Kylo even as he pushed through memories, he kept his fingers around Eliot's, providing that physical hold and grounding into the present as the memories grew stronger around them.
Eliot is six and he has stayed home from school. His brothers are outside and there is the ever present sound of laughter as the three of them play together. Eliot is on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, and looking miserable as his eyes focus on the television ahead of him. He has a fever and his Mother has just handed him a mug of broth to hold in his hands before taking a seat next to him. He shifts enough to rest his head against her side and there is a brief feeling of comfort as she puts an arm around his shoulders. She had left a talk show on and he didn't seem to care what they were watching. Soon enough, a performance begins and Eliot shifts, even if he isn't feeling well, turning to look at his Mother. "I love this song!" He tells her, having heard it in school a few times by this point. There is a smile and she brushes a hand against his hair. His eyes are focused on the television intently now and he doesn't seem quite as fixated on feeling sick.
When the song is over, he quietly says, "He's pretty, Mama."
'Handsome.'
"What?"
'You mean handsome, baby. And don't say that, okay?'
His brows come together in confusion because he didn't understand the difference or why it mattered. His shoulders slump slightly. He didn't think it was so wrong to say. He shifts to lean back again her.
Eliot is seven and lifting himself up into the bed of a pick up truck with a bit of a struggle. His knees scraped along the bed and he winced but he moved to climb further in. As he got closer to the back, he came around to the other side of a few wooden boxes, placing his palms to the edges and pushing them along until he reached the edge of the truck bed. Once all the boxes were shoved in that direction, he stepped over the tops of them, and let himself drop down to the dusty dirt road. He grabbed one of the boxes, full of an array of squashes, and struggled to pull it off and into his arms. Once it came down, he grunted, but pulled it to his chest to try and move forward, heading in the direction of a shabby overhead tent and plastic folding table where his Father had set up a sign with prices for the produce. It was a Saturday morning during harvest and they were at the local farmer's market. He set the box down on the ground next to the others and seeing that they still had room for one more, he moved in the direction of their truck again, passing by two potential customers approaching the table.
His pace slowed, eyes focusing on them, and taking note of the way the two men linked their hands together. He gave them the smallest flash of a shy smile, with one of the men lifting a free hand in greeting to Eliot while giving him a returned smile. He was just about to quicken his pace again when the voice of his Father cuts through, and already conditioned to be afraid of the man, Eliot came to a complete stop. 'You can move right along.' There's a statement of protest from one of the men and Eliot turns to look back at the scene, where his Father has rose from his folding chair and has a look in his eye that is foreign even to Eliot. He'd become used to anger and frustration and disappointment from his Father but hate wasn't something he was familiar with. Nor disgust. He finds his voice unable to be summoned, regardless of his growing tendency to talk back, as one of the men continues to protest about the rejection of even a possible sale. His Father's voice is raising and words Eliot had never heard before are coming out from the man, as an arm gets thrown out to point off to the side, demanding they leave. One of the men begins to shout back with just as much anger but the other is tugging along on his hand and insisting they just go to another vendor. And soon enough, he gets him to comply and agree. Watching as they begin to leave, his expression drops as he watches the hands drop from being held as they walk on. 'Hurry up, Eliot!' is shouted in his direction and he snaps back to what is expected of him, rushing quickly back to the truck for more of the produce boxes. Later, as he sits uncomfortably beside his Father on the patch of dead grass, he turns his eyes away to look at anything else as his Father mutters.
'On a one way ticket to hell they are, you hear me?'
Eliot nods his head, "Yes."
'Yes what?'
"Yes, Sir."
Eliot is eight and he is sitting in his room with his back pressed to his wall, knees pulled up against his chest, head turned to the side as his chest rises and falls while he tries to suppress tears. The room is pitch dark and his brother is in the bed on the other side of the room. Even with the door shut, Eliot can hear the argument from down the hall.
'You need to stop encouraging him!'
'He was just playing a game.'
'I don't care if it was a game. People see that and they start to talk.'
'He's a little boy! You are making this into something it isn't.'
'What did you just say?'
Eliot's arms unwrap quickly from his legs with barely enough time to cover his ears and prevent the sound of the chair sliding loudly across the floor. He shuts his eyes tight and presses his hands harder against ears. When he does eventually open his eyes and dare to let himself listen again, he catches the sight of his brother looking at him from across the room. 'Happy now?' he says, anger in his voice from knowing the same that Eliot knows, but unfairly pushing the blame onto him. Eliot goes to say something but his brother shifts, turning his back to him coldly. In response, Eliot reaches out to grasp a stuffed animal, pulling it close and letting his head bow as more tears come.
Eliot pulled from the memory and from Kylo who retreated equally in the Force. There were dozens of other memories, many unpleasant and many suppressed, and when he let go of Kylo's hand, he was already moving to stand. His legs were numb from having sat so long and the wicks of the flame were burned down low now inside of the tea candles. He looked to Kylo and he went to try to say something but he didn't manage just yet. He brought up one of his hands up to push at his hair before trying again. "I think I need to stop for tonight," he said, letting out an unsteady breath. He needed a break.
There was a heartbeat as the memories swirled, and Kylo put them away, wrapped up for safe keeping, even though the package felt like something he would never want to give to anyone. He unfolded his legs, stretching into the stiffness of having sat for as long as they had, and his hand went to Eliot's back, gentle, the only pressure there to tell Eliot that Kylo was still there, and had been there, and would be there.
His heart hurt more than he'd thought, maybe because there were pieces he recognized, even if he lacked the siblings, or the particular danger that Eliot's parents had seen in their son. But he knew what it was like to have parents fear something, or pull back, or push in a certain direction. That he understood emotionally, even if the specifics were different.
After a heartbeat, he reached an arm around Eliot to wrap him in a hug. "We don't need to do anymore tonight," he told him softly.
Eliot stood after his declaration with an uncertain look upon his face and was thankful when Kylo stood to meet him. With his lovers arms wrapped around him, he brought his own up to return the hug and bow his head to rest in the space between his shoulder blade and his neck. There was a nod of appreciation that Kylo wasn't pushing for them to continue. Eliot was becoming rather aware that as they progressed, this might be something the other would need to do. He just hoped he wouldn't reach that point or put the other man in that position. He held him close for as long as was accepted and that night when they'd turned to bed, his arms had been wrapped around his waist through the majority of the night, as though he wanted to have an anchor should the memories force any unpleasant dreams as a result.
The next night was similar in scoop, with the bigotry and tension between the family growing as the years ticked by and Kylo did not shrink from offering support as they moved through those memories although they were exhausting. On full display was the progression of Eliot learning to navigate that type of environment while being on a path of self discovery. There was a period where the young boy was trying to keep it quiet and secret, hidden from an abusive and hateful Father, but there was embers beginning to take light of the man Eliot was now. Who did not hide who he was in that regard, who was quick to words and who believed in acceptance of all. Those embers were largely demonstrated against peers at the school, where rumors were circulating of who he was and how he was choosing to identify himself as. But they were only embers and words and actions of others were keeping them from developing into a full flame.
Eliot is thirteen. His eyes is swollen and his lips is split but he stands in the same bedroom he occupied his whole life. His brother is standing across from him and Eliot is trying to focus on him as he demonstrates how to throw a punch. His brother swings, nearly hitting Eliot's middle brother, but the middle one catches the fist before it can hit against him. 'See?' The brother says in Eliot's direction. Regardless of the tense feelings Eliot has in their direction, from often feeling excluded, he is feeling appreciative of the lesson. 'Go on, you try. Hit him.'
Eliot is fourteen. Logan had slammed him into a locker again. He hadn't seen him coming but his head slammed against the metal and he didn't have time to react before a punch was thrown against his abdomen, making him move an arm to guard the spot. Eliot didn't know why he was coming at him this time. It wasn't anything new. His Father would be pissed off about it again. He was already becoming used to him telling him that he was worthless and must like the negative attention he got for allowing this to happen to him. His brothers would probably roll their eyes. Eliot swung his arm out and did manage to land a punch, surprising Logan. The next thing he knows, he is surrounded, being held down by Logan's friends. It feels like it goes on forever, as kicks and swings hit him from every angle, but it doesn't. Suddenly there is a teacher, and there is multiple of Logan's friends spreading lies. 'He just came up and hit him! What were we supposed to do?'
Eliot is sent to the principal's office and while so is Logan and his friends, Eliot isn't believed, and he feels like he is about to vomit when he is told he is suspended.
Three weeks go by and Eliot is avoiding going home. He's walking along a curb in the finest slacks and button down he could find from goodwill. He snaps a kit-kat in half and takes a bite of it when he spots Logan from across the street, just stepping off at the crosswalk. Eliot was well aware of the bus that was coming. It was only an instant where the thought crossed his mind. It was a simple, hate and pain filled thought that was never meant to come to fruition. He hadn't expected it to. Only, just as soon as the thought had been registered, it was unfolding in front of him. There'd been an invisible push and Eliot knew it had been from him. Somehow.
Logan died in an instant.
And Eliot stood in horror gaping at the scene, as blood began to fall down from his nose, dripping onto his shirt.
Kylo's own stomach churned, as he pulled back from the memory, sensing, maybe that they both needed to give the space to the event. It held an all too familiar terror and regret and complicated emotion, that was so frequently a soundtrack to so much of his own life. He kept his fingers through Eliot's, gentle, once again the simple reminder that he was here and he wasn't going anywhere. His other hand lifted to Eliot's cheek, running a thumb against the man's cheekbone, and finally finding a place against the curls on the side of his head.
No one could have blamed Eliot for his response. At least, Kylo didn't think anyone could. Kylo couldn't. Eliot had just fought back, and even the push itself, while pre-emptive, could be almost seen as a type of self-defense, a reflexive pushback from pain that always follows, like tensing up before someone touches a broken bone, because you know it will hurt - it's always hurt. But that didn't mean that Eliot didn't blame himself to some degree.
Kylo leaned forward and pressed his forehead to Eliot's. "I've got you," he said. He could have just as easily have said 'I've got it', it would be equally true, because the memory was Eliot, and Eliot had that memory, and those two things were so entwined, to take away the memory would chip away at the man Eliot had become. Funny how so frequently Kylo had wished to simply forget things, but he was realizing through this process just how much those things shaped him.
Going through all of these moments was an exercise in pain and it was exhausting for Eliot, feeling almost as though they were taking wounds that had begun to heal and rubbing salt into them until they were exposed once again. The emotions and the feelings he'd felt in those periods was hitting him from every perceivable angle. So, even though he'd been skilled at hiding his emotions around most and these incidents weren't usually spoken of, they were having an affect on him at present. He breathed out when Kylo pulled back as he felt the same nausea he'd experienced on the day of. He shut his eyes and leaned to the touch of Kylo's palm.
He hadn't seen Kylo move towards him but he felt his presence and he focused on that. "I hate this," he whispered as an admission. It all felt overwhelming and there was a very real part of him that was beginning to consider retracting, to throw up his hands, and take the easy way out. The potion was in a reachable distance.
But then he remembered all his reasons for not wanting to do that. The man who was pressed against him. His wife down the hall. His daughter somewhere within the house. His friends from home and from Tumbleweed alike. If what Alice had said was accurate, and if this Creature ever showed, they needed to be open to any solution. And a solution could be granted by the portal so long as Eliot didn't block off the doorway to allow it. The potion was not an answer.
He brought his hand up to cup over Kylo's. "I didn't mean for it to really happen," he told Kylo. He'd told Kylo that before but that was when Kylo had only known a censored version of the events. Now Kylo had seen it just as Eliot had seen it and whether it needed saying or not, Eliot wanted it clear. He may have hated him but he didn't actually want him to die.
Kylo didn't say anything to the admission, except to press his lips gently against Eliot's forehead, and then to press back in again, easily wrapped up in the other man's space as he had been for so long and as Eliot had so frequently done for him. He hadn't known how much of a balm touch could be until he'd had it offered to him in the form of the man in front of him. Kylo had known of these events, or at least he had known of the last, El had told him, and while seeing it through his eyes was different from him speaking words to share it, he'd known then, and he knew now that Eliot hadn't meant it.
"I know," he told him quietly, trying to wrap his fingers around Eliot's, but really it was difficult to get much closer than they already were. "It's not who you want to be," he offered, stepping away from the original thought that it wasn't who he was. It had happened, obviously, so in that extent it was a part of Eliot. The memory proved that, but Kylo also knew Eliot, and not just the meticulously styled package that he had spent the past few days watching Eliot pull together to present to the world. It was as much an armour and mask as anything Kylo had ever worn, and it fulfilled a similar purpose, and it was both Eliot, and yet only a piece of him. There was the other part of him too, the piece that was thoughtful and loyal and generous and honorable - it was at odds with the event that had happened, but not at odds with the emotional response to it.
They would go back in, and Kylo would pull the aftermath into safe keeping, but for now, he let it rest - let Eliot rest. "You had no idea it was something you could do. Thinking isn't supposed to trigger things happening." For most people anyway. Kylo pulled back, eyes intently on Eliot's face while he was still sharply tuned to Eliot's emotions in the Force.
There was a tiny nod of agreement in response to that phrasing. It wasn't a denial of what had happened or how the event had shaped Eliot from that moment on, but it was a truth. Eliot didn't want to lash out and harm someone in a defenseless position. He hadn't known he was capable of doing so and he would spend the next era of his life wrestling with the guilt of that afternoon, trying to process how he could have ever wished for such a thing but ultimately needing to realize it wasn't something he'd have followed through with. He hadn't known what he was capable of and had he, it wouldn't have been an act he'd have chosen to do.
He gave another nod to the words Kylo was offering him. "No, it's not," he said, quietly, before adding, "It just took me a long time to accept that." He couldn't very well say when it had been an acceptance. There was a healing period and he only recognized he had come out of it once it was years later.
Kylo slid a hand up to run a thumb gently along his lover's jawline. "I could never see you doing it now - now that you know what your abilities are and how to control them." He let out a breath softly and fell silent for a moment, knowing that there was pain there that probably would always exist in the memory. He'd felt it, internalized some of it himself, as the nausea in his own stomach suggested. For a while it had felt like merely Eliot's own physical response, but it seemed to have triggered one for Kylo as well. Then again, that had been a possibility within what he'd agreed with, hadn't it?
"Do you want to stop for today?" He asked instead of following up on any of those ideas. "It would be understandable if you've had enough."
This was true. Eliot had difficulty with the idea of hurting much of anyone and resorted to it solely when it was necessary, more often than not because his loved ones were hurt. His ability to be defensive and ruthless never faltered in those instances. And while Eliot noted the silence, he didn't find it a cause for immediate alarm. It was a lot to relive for Eliot but he knew it would be a lot for Kylo to digest, too. The space of silence was welcome and made sense.
He gave a nod of his head, his hand moving to extinguish the candles with a hand gesture, before he glanced off in the direction of the doorway. "I think I'd like to go out for some fresh air," he suggested, his hand squeezing against the one he was still holding of Kylo's. "Let's go for a walk?"
Kylo nodded silently, reaching for Eliot's hand as he stood up and offered to pull Eliot up. The fresh air would likely do them both good, and they could return to this process the next day. There was always that sense of urgency, that you didn't know if a memory update would arrive, or how, but at the same time, only so much could be granted, and now Kylo had enough to pull pieces together, the beginning, and the recent - and it wasn't the worst place to begin from.
In the next night, they resumed, Kylo being moved through the rest of Eliot’s adolescence in what Kylo would only describe as flurry of transformation. The guilt that Eliot had felt in the wake of Logan's death had been present and Kylo could feel it there, but it dulled down to something that could be lived with and managed as time wore on. His brothers began to become scarce in the memories as they moved onto begin lives away from the house and the ember inside of Eliot began to grow into a full on fire of rebellion, burning down any remaining scaffolding of a relationship with his Father. Neither could bare to be in one another's presence long and it seemed as though they calculated ways to avoid one another. Eliot would stay out as late as he could and he began to venture away from the town. Kylo had anticipated something like this, perhaps it was no surprise based upon the memories he had seen thus far, and what he knew of Eliot’s father now. The coping mechanisms that were ever present in Eliot’s current life were beginning to rear their head as well. Cigarettes summoned from behind a gas station counter into the palm of his hand and slid carefully into his pocket. Kylo could easily track the shifts in magic between then and now: this magic was barbaric in comparison to what Eliot was capable of in his adulthood but it was impressive in the regard that he hadn't had any training up until this point. And he was chasing alcohol and easy highs, in the company of other lonely teenagers of Indiana, but none of which who really gave off the impression of being a connection that Eliot longed to keep. There was none of these. Kylo could recognize the feeling of being alone, surrounded by company.
Still, even with the coping mechanisms in place to deal with his family and his guilt and his hidden secrets, Kylo could see Eliot was brilliant in his studies. No effort was really needed to be given and the only subject of which he seemed to fail at was Literature, because that wasn't something he could just absorb quickly as he sat in a classroom. It gave him the opportunity to leave Indiana and with what felt to Kylo like a soft breeze running across an otherwise repressively hot day the stifling feeling of Eliot’s entire life up until that point was gone. The memories were touched with the breeze of the City and a love that had been apparent to Kylo any time Eliot spoke of New York. It was home.