Elijah and I laid in our little glade that was in an over-abundance of wild flowers. I could see him idly twisting a buttercup's stem in-between his thumb and pointer finger. I let out a breath, turning from my back and onto my side. "Elijah," I said out in a breathy tone. I heard him let out a little 'hmmm?' before I continued.
"You've never told me about your past." He seemed to freeze; I propped my head on my lightly clenched fist while I awaited an answer. "Well… you've never told me about your past," he said in a teasing voice. I stared at him for a while. "True." I could have dropped the subject, but I wasn't satisfied. Call me curious, or call me selfish. Regardless, I still pressed on.
"I like… hearing stories," I began, trying to choose my words carefully, "I just want to know mo—" His following words seemed rushed, and not like him, "Let it go, Rowan." It was my turn to freeze. His voice was a lot colder than the voice I usually associated with him. "I mean," he started, turning on his side in order to face me, "it's in the past, y'know?"
He played with a few strands of my pink hair, something that he seemed to do and something that I didn't mind him doing. "And we should all just leave the past in the past," he said in a sing-song voice. He hand playfully tapped my nose six or so times to go along with the last six words he spoke. "I have a feeling you will tell me when you're ready," I said with a sweet smile. He paused before putting on a bright smile, "You too, Ro." We turned away from each other, but he still continued to play aimlessly with my hair.