[Celeste]
The pay phone felt cold under my fingertips as I dialled the number Elvis had given me, just in case we got separated. It was an odd feeling—relying on someone else to keep track of me. For so long, I’d only depended on myself. The sharp ring of the phone in my ear jolted me out of my thoughts, and before I could fully prepare myself, Elvis answered, his tone clipped as he gave instructions and a short scold.
By the time I exited the train, I spotted them immediately. Elijah was leaning against a pillar, his arms crossed as if he had been waiting for hours, while Elvis stood nearby, ever the picture of formality with his rigid posture and cold expression. Elijah’s face lit up when he saw me, and he quickly crossed the distance between us.
“You’re alright,” he said, hurrying to
