Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

PART I

The Devil You Know

☾

Julian tugs his thin jacket tighter around his body, surging into the cold night as people bustle alongside him in a rush. It's 10 PM, and while everyone around him is heading home, his night has only just begun.

He takes a cab on his way to the hotel and shoots a text off to Logan, telling him he's on his way. The driver tries to engage him in small talk but Julian barely responds to his questions about traffic and the weather. Eventually, the man gives up and goes quiet a few minutes into the ride.

Good. Text me immediately if you need anything, comes Logan's reply. 

Julian puts his phone away and fidgets with the ring on his finger. It's one of the extra efforts he makes for his regulars. The more he sleeps with them, the more he gets to know what they like—their kinks, what turns them on, and the little changes Julian can do here and there that keep them coming back. Tonight's client likes to have gentle, slow sex and likes to call him every pet name in the book. He likes it when Julian wears a specific perfume, likes to taste Julian's cherry-flavored lip gloss, and loves to hold his hand whether or not they're fucking. The wedding band is just a little something to complete the illusion of a domestic life.

Minutes later, he pays the driver and rushes inside the hotel. At this point, the receptionist is already familiar with his face, since he's been here every week for the last four months. Julian opens his mouth, but the receptionist only holds up a finger and mouths "One second," before typing something on the computer. When she looks back up, she gives him that robotic smile he always sees in places like this, and says, "Mr Preston says you can come right up. Room 367."

Julian mumbles a thanks and hops onto the elevator. He's the only passenger, so he quickly checks himself out on the door's shiny reflection. He runs his fingers through the chocolate locks curling near his jawline and neck. He debates putting on a new layer of Preston's favorite lip gloss, but then doors suddenly slide open. He shuffles into the corner as a group of formally dressed men and women join him inside. He stares at his black boots from then on, only looking up when he's at Preston's floor.

The first thing Preston does when he opens the door is pull Julian in for a kiss, soft and sweet at first, and then he's licking into his mouth hungrily. Julian can taste alcohol on his tongue and can tell that there won't be a fancy dinner tonight as Preston shoves the door closed and presses him against it, effectively trapping his body.

"Hey, baby." Preston pulls away to grin at him. It’s a toothy, suggestive grin. Julian can tell he's tipsy at most, which calms his nerves down a bit. 

"Hi," Julian says, tracing the man’s day-old scruff with his finger. Julian can see the remnants of Preston's beauty and has always known that he must've been very handsome when he was younger. Now, in his mid-forties, there are crinkles in the corners of his eyes even when his face is slack, his hair graying at the roots, and his body not as built as it probably was before. Still, Julian looks at him like he's the most attractive man he's ever laid eyes on. Preston loves it, of course. Playing the role each client expects from him is one of the most important parts of the job. 

The wind is knocked out of Julian's lungs as Preston dives in again for another kiss, harder and messier this time, so Julian lets himself melt against the door and falls pliant as Preston's hands cup his backside and teasingly dips a finger into his trousers.

"Take me to bed, please," Julian murmurs against his lips.

Preston doesn't need to be told twice. He pushes Julian's coat off his shoulders and lets Julian jump onto him, wrapping his thighs around Preston's hips as the man carries him to bed. In a flash, they're both undressed, and Julian is pressed into the mattress. Preston kisses his neck, lubed fingers probing into him.

Julian notes that Preston is less thorough tonight than he usually is, probably because he's drunk and too horny. Julian bites down a pained gasp when Preston fits three fingers inside him, using only a little bit of lube. The stretch stings enough to make his eyes water, but Julian merely moans to cover up his grimace and pulls Preston's face back up so he can kiss him some more.

As Preston fucks him hard and fast, Julian hears his own theatrical moans as if from a distance. Preston hovers over him, his hair sticking to his forehead from sweat. The bed creaks noisily, and Julian finds himself wondering how much Preston would have to pay the hotel if they ended up breaking the bed.

Julian hits his head on the headboard every time Preston thrusts. They're both breathing hard, Julian's legs thrown over his shoulders at this point, leaving his muscles feeling sore. 

"You like that, huh?" Preston grunts.

Julian stares up at the ceiling as Preston finally comes, his body going rigid for a few seconds, and then he collapses on top of Julian, his entire body weight making it impossible for Julian to do anything but lie there. When he pulls out, he lies down next to Julian and kisses him again. Julian nearly flinches when he feels a warm hand wrap around his dick, but then he gives into the feeling as Preston pulls him off until he, too, finds release.

Preston truly is one of his better clients. Most would fuck him like a ragdoll and leave him without a second glance once they've finished, but Preston is kind.

"Love you," Preston murmurs against his lips.

Julian knows those words aren't for him, knows that it's all pretend, so he smiles up at him and says, "I love you, too."

☾

It's six in the morning and Julian's mind is made of nothing but air as he walks back to Logan's apartment. The paper bag he's clutching to his chest is warm, making him yearn for a long nap under a pile of blankets even more. His body aches everywhere and he feels like he could collapse on the pavement and fall asleep right there. Perhaps someone will walk by and wake him up before the cops find him. Or perhaps a truck will run him over and think it was just a road hump.

The apartment complex comes into view, making him sigh in relief. It's a decent enough place, especially for someone like Julian who's lucky to even get to sleep somewhere with a roof and four walls.

He types in the security passcode at the gate and jogs up the stairs. His neighbors walk past him and he ignores their gazes, keeping his eyes stuck on the ground. When he makes it to their apartment, he clumsily feels for his keys in his pockets and fishes it out. Before he can put it to use, the door swings open.

"You're late," Logan says.

Julian can't read his tone, but there's a ghost of a smile on Logan's face, making Julian relax a bit. Julian tries for a timid smile and holds out the paper bag as an offering. "Breakfast?"

Luckily, Logan smiles and pulls him inside. They sit at the kitchen island and share lukewarm coffees and pancakes. Julian isn't even that hungry—he'd rather take a shower and go straight to bed to sleep through the day, but he knows Logan wouldn't like that, so he forces himself to swallow as much food as he can.

Logan fills in the silence, talking about how busy he's going to be in the next few weeks, how "that fucker from ninth avenue" is going to get his brain blown to bits if he doesn't pay up, and how his car needs another repair. Julian listens intently, nodding and commenting wherever he deems it appropriate. He fights his sleepiness as best as he can. He wants nothing more than to take a hot shower and scrub himself raw before diving into bed and not existing for the next few hours, but Logan hates it when he can tell he's not listening, so Julian does everything but think about sleep.

"How's the traffic, by the way?" Logan asks him, reaching over the table for a napkin. Julian's brain is clouded and his eyes are trained on Logan's tattooed arm so he nearly misses the question.

"It was okay. It was worse last week," Julian says with a shrug.

"Then why are you late? You're usually done by 5 AM." Logan looks at him, and no matter how much time Julian spends with this man, he can never get used to his hard, searing gaze. Logan isn't even mad—Julian should be celebrating that Logan seems to be in a good mood today, but instead, he feels like one wrong move will set him off and Julian will have to deal with the consequences for the rest of the week.

"Not many people were around. I had to look for some Johns in other areas," Julian explains, keeping his tone steady while also trying to sound as timid as possible.

Logan considers this for a moment before nodding. "Yeah. It's probably because the holidays are approaching. People are heading home, mostly."

Julian nods. This is why Julian had to find a more populated spot to stand around in his skimpy shorts for hours on end, hopping into several backseats before shakily counting the balled-up cash tucked into his pants and heading home. Reaching the quota is always the hardest part, especially during days like this when there aren't that many people willing to pay for a quick fuck. Plus, there’s the fact that most of the time, Julian feels like he isn't even properly awake. He walks around hoping to bait some fish, gives them what they want, and gets damp, crumpled bills in return, but it all feels like he's watching everything from afar.

"Here," Julian pulls out his earnings for the night and puts it down on the table. He's counted and recounted it several times just to make sure he really did reach the quota because sometimes he doesn't know how to count properly and it annoys the fuck out of Logan.

Logan thumbs through the stack of cash while Julian sits there like a dog waiting on its owner’s orders. Logan pockets the money and looks back at Julian. For a moment, Julian is a hundred percent certain that he somehow did something to anger Logan, but then he smiles.

"Very good."

"Thank you," Julian says.

Logan takes his phone out and starts tapping on the screen, so Julian takes that as his cue to go. Julian walks towards the bedroom, but then an arm wraps around his waist from behind and pulls him against a sturdy chest.

"Where are you going?" Logan's breath smells like coffee.

"I was going to rest."

"Not yet, you aren't." Logan spins him around so that they're face to face. Julian is reminded of how tall Logan is as he's left staring at the man's stubble-covered chin.

"Right. Sorry. I thought—"

"Shh. Wait for me on the bed."

Julian does as told, undressing before sitting at the foot of the bed. Logan follows not long after, his muscles rippling as he tugs his shirt off. Julian ignores the wave of apprehension that runs through his body.

"You're one of the best, you know that, Julian?" Logan says, standing in front of him. Julian peers up at him, nodding. "Do you promise to keep this up?"

Julian nods again. Logan clenches his jaw and grabs his chin. "Talk."

"Yes," Julian says over the dryness of his throat. "I promise."

"Good." Logan unbuckles his belt. "You know what I'll have to do if you break it, right?"

"Yes," Julian says again, throat feeling tight. 

"Good. Open your mouth."

Julian ignores the dread in his stomach and does as told. 

☾

On the rare occasion that Julian isn't pinned to a mattress under rough hands, he spends his time amongst people his own age and plays the role of an ordinary nineteen-year-old.

There's a coffee shop a few streets away from Logan's apartment called Caffeinated. He has to ride a cab to get there, but he likes that he's far away from the center of his hell. He likes to know that people can't easily find him here. 

He found the place on his own one morning when his client randomly dropped him off at an unfamiliar street after fucking him in the backseat of his car and shoving the crumpled bills into his mouth. Since then, he found himself returning there on his own. It's his safe haven if he dares to think that those exist because of its warm, comforting aura and comfy couches. Plus, the warm drinks and buttery pastries are heaven-sent. The baristas and staff don't mind having a kid in ratty clothes in their shop nearly the entire day, either, and let him stay even up until closing time.

The bell dings as he pushes through the door and he's immediately greeted by the bittersweet aroma of coffee, accompanied by a gush of warmth. It's a Wednesday night, and as usual, the place is filled with college students hunched over the tiny desks, stacks of papers and books taking up most of the table, dwarfing their single cup of coffee or a plate of croissants.

Julian walks with his head down towards the cashier. Thankfully, there’s no line, so he reaches for his money in his pocket and pretends to choose from the menu displayed above despite knowing that he'll just end up ordering the same thing anyway.

"Hi, Julian. Nice to see you again," comes a sweet, familiar voice. Casey is beaming at him, looking chipper despite the obvious exhaustion in her eyes. 

"Hi," Julian smiles thinly. 

"Your usual?" Casey asks, but she's already moving around behind the counter to prepare his order.

Julian laughs quietly. "Yes. Thanks."

Maybe being somewhat familiar with the people here adds to the comfort of the place. He started regularly visiting this café a good three months ago, and it was Casey's same blinding smile that greeted him the first time. At this point, he also knows Tommy, the other barista, who also happens to be Casey's boyfriend. Then there are two pimply college kids who take the next shift. They're not as bubbly as Casey, but they're definitely more talkative than Tommy. 

"Busy today? Lots of students have been working on their school work here lately," Casey says as she places his tray on the counter. As usual, there's his cup of black coffee and a single glazed donut. 

Julian shrugs. "Yeah."

It's a weird feeling, knowing that the person in front of him isn't looking at him like a piece of meat, or that they aren't looking down on their noses at him, thinking of him as something stuck at the bottom of their shoes. Nobody in the café knows who he is or what he does for a living. It makes him feel more human, though there's always that niggling thought at the back of his mind telling him that they must know, they can probably tell from the way he moves and speaks and even looks at people. It's a constant fear of bumping into one of his clients and shattering the delusion he's created, but so far, nothing like that has happened yet. He hopes it stays that way.

"Good luck," Casey says, grinning. "I'm glad I'm done with college. Never gonna miss it."

Julian pays for his food. "Yeah. It's pretty stressful."

"It's all worth it in the end, though, isn't it?" Casey hands over his change and receipt.

Julian nods. "I hope so. Thanks."

"No problem. Enjoy!"

Julian heads for the table in the corner—his usual spot—and sits down. He warms his hands with his coffee, glancing around the shop curiously. Other than students cramming for their final papers and exams, a few well-dressed men are having a meeting. There's a pair of old ladies laughing loudly in one corner, and a family in one of the larger tables. Julian pulls out his moleskin journal from under his coat and puts it on the table. It'll make him look much more like a student doing homework rather than a prostitute on his day off.

It's a miracle that he even has a day off. In the beginning, he didn't, as did all of the other whores. It was a few months into living with Logan that he suggested that Julian choose a single day per week to rest. Julian remembers being so astounded that it took him a couple of seconds to randomly choose Wednesday as his day off. None of Logan's other prostitutes know about his special treatment, of course, but the fact that he's living in his pimp's apartment is enough for everyone to think he's Logan's favorite whore. Or personal toy. Or home bitch. There's a lot of variation.

Julian tells himself it's because he's always been good and obedient and barely messes up when it comes to bringing Logan money that he's been given the privilege of having a day for himself. He tells himself that he deserves it and he should be happy that he doesn't have his face smushed into a car's leather backseat right now and is instead enjoying a cup of coffee in peace. But there's always that heaviness in the pit of his stomach, a constant reminder that no matter what, he still has to return to Logan's apartment and sell himself the next day. There's a bit of torture to it—of giving him a taste of what it might be like if he were free and then immediately snatching it away from him before he even got the hang of it.

With a sigh, Julian quietly sips his coffee, and then he doodles on the margins of his journal. He used to be quite a good artist when he was younger. He remembers telling anyone who would listen that he wanted to be a cartoonist when he grew up.

His phone vibrates in his pocket, making him flinch in surprise. He pulls out his flip phone and as expected, it's a text from Logan.

Where are you?

He replies: I'm just having a coffee.

Where?

Julian doesn't want to tell him where he is, so he texts back, I already left the café, do you need anything?

He's already lost his barely-there appetite. He forces himself to finish his coffee despite how it scalds his tongue.

Buy us some beer and come home early, Logan texts.

Julian ignores the ball of dread in his stomach. He likes to spend as much time as he can away from Logan. It makes him sick, but he'd rather be sucking a stranger's dick in a dark back alley than stay with Logan while he gets drunk.

Julian texts back a quick okay before standing up and bringing his untouched donut back to the counter. He'll just ask for a paper bag and pretend he got it for Logan.

"Can I help you?"

Julian isn't expecting to see a stranger behind the counter, so he ends up blinking at him for a few seconds. Usually, Tommy would be alongside Casey whenever he's here. But this time, it's a new barista.

Julian clears his throat. "Yeah. Um, can I get a paper bag? I'm just going to take this donut home."

"Sure thing." The man flashes him a smile before reaching below the counter for a small paper bag and a pair of tongs.

Julian is momentarily distracted by his phone, seeing as Logan has sent him several texts already, asking him why he's taking so long. Julian bites his lip and texts him back, telling him there's a traffic jam and apologizing.

"Here you go," the new barista says, making Julian's head snap up.

Julian takes the paper bag and forces a tight-lipped smile. "Sorry about that. And thank you."

"You're welcome. Have a good one," the man says.

Julian barely has time to say "You too!" before he's rushing out of the café, his hair immediately blown back by the wind when he makes it outside. He hails a cab and stops by a convenience store to buy Logan his alcohol, and then he's practically sprinting up the stairs to the apartment with two packs of beer and a donut clutched in his hands. The door is ajar when he arrives, and when he pushes it open, he finds Logan and several of his friends all sprawled out on the couch, with cigarettes and joints being passed between them.

"There she is!" one of the men says, earning a round of laughter and whistling from the others.

Julian ducks his head and places the beer on the table. He feels stupid giving Logan a single donut, so he quickly makes his way to the kitchen instead to save it for himself later. Logan and his friends are talking and laughing boisterously from the living room, and it's almost enough to distract him from the entire slice of red velvet cake beside his take-out donut. Julian's eyebrows scrunch up in confusion. He didn't buy a slice of cake from the café, did he?

Adding to his confusion, there's a note on the napkin on top of the container: This one's on the house! :)

It takes Julian a while to realize that this must've been written by the new barista earlier. The man's face flashes in his mind—kind eyes, scruff-covered jaw, tan skin—and he finds himself taking the note and putting it in his pocket. He manages to place the donut and cake in the fridge before he hears Logan's voice from the living room.

"Julian! Come out here and join us."

Julian doesn't even register what's going to happen, even though it has happened enough times in the past that he should've seen it coming. Still, he sits down next to Logan and lets them stick a joint in his mouth until everything's just a bit softer around the edges, wisps of white smoke curling through the air.

"You got this one at your every beck and call, don't you?" One of Logan's friends—his name is Gavin, Julian thinks—sits down on Julian's other side. Gavin takes the joint from Julian's lips and starts messily kissing him on the mouth.

"He's a good one," Julian distantly hears Logan say. Gavin pulls him into his lap. Julian feels weightless.

"Hmm." Someone huffs. "Got any chicks, though? Your boy's pretty and all but he ain't got no pussy."

"He's got an ass. Does it matter if he's a guy? A hole's a hole, isn't it?" someone answers, followed by laughter.

Julian's eyes have drifted shut already. Gavin's hands are all over him—down his chest, his arms, his thighs, his ass. A conversation keeps going on in the background and Julian hears his name several times but doesn't care to pay attention anymore. These men will continue to talk about him like he's not even in the room and Julian doesn't want to hear it.

It doesn't take long before Logan instructs him to bend over the table. Julian clenches his eyes shut as his jeans are forcefully pulled off, and then someone's finger is pressing into him. Julian wishes he was much higher than he is now, since all he feels is a pleasant buzz from the weed and it's barely enough to numb his senses. A loud slap makes him flinch, and it takes him a few seconds to realize that someone has just spanked him. There's laughter, there's chatter, there's a groan in his ear as someone drapes himself over Julian's back and bites at his earlobe.

It hurts when someone slips into him, but all Julian does is bite his lip and press his cheek to the wooden table. Vaguely, he catches a glimpse of Logan as he sits down beside Julian on the table, running a hand through his hair. It feels oddly intimate when Logan does things like this—like stroke a finger down his cheek or caress his jaw. Sometimes he even leaves a feather-light kiss on his temple. All of that is in stark contrast to how he hands Julian over to strangers and his own friends like nothing more than a toy.

Logan gets him last, like always. He practically tosses Julian to the floor, star-fished on the stained carpet, and fucks into him mercilessly. Julian's so unbelievably sore, but he's had worse, so he muffles his pained groans into Logan's chest and clutches desperately onto his arms. 

Julian doesn't remember when it ends or when Logan's friends leave, but the next time he's conscious, he's already in bed with a duvet pulled up to his neck. Logan is beside him with an arm tossed over his waist, snoring softly against the back of his neck.

Inexplicably, Julian's last thought of the night is about that new barista from the café who gave him a red velvet cake with a note. He's stuck on the fact that the man didn't ask for anything in return. His mind lingers on that thought as his heavy, sore body finally pulls him under.

He ceases to exist for a few hours—and it's heaven.

Chapter Text

On Friday, Logan takes Julian to the whorehouse.

That's not really what it's called. Julian's pretty sure that they call it “Benson” because it’s located along Benson Street, but among the prostitutes, they call it the whorehouse. Maybe it's a failed attempt at humor or a badly-veiled way of expressing their self-hatred, but either way, Julian thinks there's a ring to the name.

Logan plays music as he drives, drumming his fingers on the wheel as he hums along to the songs. Julian doesn't recognize the song—he barely listens to music nowadays even though Logan put some songs on his phone. Julian stares out the window, noting how the streets and houses get more crowded the closer they get to their destination. Julian can almost smell the stench of the sewers and piss from inside the car just by looking at the grimy exteriors of the buildings and garbage-infested streets.

"Do you want to eat something before we get there?" Logan asks, resting a hand on his thigh. Logan is in one of his suspiciously chipper moods, and frankly, Julian's too exhausted to overanalyze his every move, so Julian accepts it as it is and plays along with Logan's happy mood. He just hopes it'll last much longer this time around.

"Only if you want to. I ate before we left."

Logan scoffs. "You ate? A single cookie and a glass of milk barely count as food, Julian. You're getting skinnier by the day. You have to eat more if you don't want to look malnourished."

Julian frowns, staring down at his body. It's true that he's lost weight, judging from the way his clothes have become even baggier than usual, but Julian doesn't think he looks that thin. Besides, Johns like it when he's smaller than them. It makes it easier for them to throw him around. It gives them a sense of power when the whore they're fucking seems vulnerable and pathetic.

"I'll try. Sorry." 

"Good. We're getting burgers and fries. Let's just finish it on our way there—you know how it is at the house. One whiff of food and you've got an entire gaggle of people pawing at your feet. Like fucking rats, I swear."

Julian's very familiar with that scene, since there was a time when he was one of the "rats" who practically licked the floor for any possible crumbs of food. There was a girl back then—Becka, he thinks her name was—who somehow mastered the art of swallowing food without chewing. Julian's certain that she was always the one to eat the food he stored in the fridge for himself. Even when he hid them in his pillowcase or the pockets of his jeans, she still somehow always found them. Julian's certain his stomach shrunk to the size of a peanut during his time in that house, which is why he's still adjusting to the new meal plan that Logan is forcing on him. Before, he was ready to thank all the gods above if he got to eat at least one decent meal. Now, Logan makes sure he eats three meals a day even if he never finishes them because he always feels like throwing up after a few bites.

Eventually, they order from a Wendy's drive-through. Logan decides that he wants to take a break from driving after all, so they end up in the parking lot. They lean against the hood of the car and dig into their food.

Julian nibbles at his burger and tries not to drink too much soda because it'll only kill his appetite even more. When he looks up, Logan is already watching him.

"Talk to me," Logan commands, raising an eyebrow. "You don't want me to find your company boring, do you?"

Julian knows he's teasing, but considering their circumstances, it's so close to the truth that Julian couldn't help but nod. He awkwardly clears his throat. "Um. Thanks for the food."

"You said you weren't even hungry."

"But it's still food. And I'm eating now, so," Julian says with a small shrug.

Logan just watches him, looking amused. "You better finish that. You don't know how many of those girls in the house would kill to take your spot."

He says it so casually as if it’s just a joke, but Julian doesn't doubt it at all. He knows he's privileged to a certain extent, or at least in terms of a prostitute's life. It seems that like the girls at the whorehouse, Logan also never fails to remind him of this every chance he gets.

"I know," Julian says quietly. He takes a large bite out of the burger as if to prove a point. "I'm very thankful."

"If you keep up the good work, maybe I'll have some more surprises for you," Logan says, stepping toward him and ruffling his hair. Even with friendly gestures like this, Julian can't help his instinctive response, which is to flinch away. Logan surely notices but doesn't seem to mind. If anything, it makes him stand taller, a smirk tugging at his mouth. That trademark look alone is enough to make Julian want to shrink in on himself.

Julian doesn't say anything and continues to eat. He can't finish the fries no matter how hard he tries, so Logan tosses them in the trash with a pointed sigh. Julian knows he's disappointed, but he doesn't really care right now because his stomach feels like it might just explode.

The rest of the ride to Benson is quite uneventful, save for when Logan almost runs over a shirtless man in the street, clearly high as a kite. Logan curses him out, reaching into the glove compartment to grab the gun he always leaves there. Just as he opens the door to step outside, the man finally walks to the sidewalk to let them pass.

Julian lets out a quiet breath.

When they finally arrive, Julian trails after Logan on their way inside. Immediately, Julian is hit with the stench of sweat, sex, and dirty laundry.

"Logan," Ricky, one of Logan's right-hand men greets him. Ricky manages the girls here ninety percent of the time. Weekly, Logan visits to collect his money and remind everyone who's the boss, but other than that, Logan barely shows up unless there's an important issue to fix.

Julian stays lingering behind Logan as he and Ricky catch up. Down the hall, he can see a few of the girls peeking through the doors. He can feel nervousness and fear from them and they crash into Julian like a wave. He remembers feeling this way whenever Logan would visit when he was much younger. He used to be locked up in one of the rooms upstairs, losing count of how many men came in and out, again and again. They didn't trust him to go out and look for clients on his own back then. The mere memory makes unadulterated terror wash over him; those were probably the worst years of his life.

Logan took notice of him after he attracted several regulars. The same men would visit him in his room every week, some of them even a couple times a week. Julian hated that he found their faces familiar, or that he knew the telltale signs when they were about to finish. But he was good. That's what Logan told him when he got invited into Logan's office downstairs for the first time.

"I hear you've been very good, Julian," Logan said, looking intimidating in his crisp polo shirt and close-cropped hair. He was younger then, and despite it only being two years ago, Julian can remember how he didn't have that much gray hair yet, or how he had way fewer tattoos than he does now.

"Thank you," Julian told him, meek and quiet as always. Julian learned fairly quickly that they loved it when he was submissive. They felt like they controlled him, but at that time, Julian felt like he had all the power in the world because at least being submissive meant he didn't get beaten to a pulp every week for messing up over the smallest things.

"You've been bringing in good money, Ricky tells me." Logan stood up then, and Julian was taken aback by how he towered over him.

Julian didn't know that, so he opened and closed his mouth several times, unsure of how to respond. Logan held his face in his large hand, making Julian freeze.

"That makes me very happy," Logan said. Julian merely nodded. "How old are you?"

"Seventeen," Julian said.

"You're one of the youngest ones here. You're also the only boy," Logan told him. Julian didn't know what to make of that information. Logan stepped away from him and sat back down on his chair behind the desk. Then, he patted his thigh, looking at Julian with a raised eyebrow.

Julian hoped the shakiness in his movements wasn't obvious as he walked forward and gingerly sat on Logan's lap. Logan wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling him close so that they were chest to chest with Julian looking down at him.

"I want you to do something. Will you do that for me, Julian?" Logan said.

Julian didn't even think twice before nodding. "Yes."

Logan fucked his mouth that night. The next time he visited, he fucked Julian with his fingers while Julian choked on his dick. Then, he made Julian ride him. Three months later, Logan was already arranging Julian's move to his apartment. Julian didn't miss the glares and hushed whispers from the girls in the house, how they called him Logan's pet. It got to the point that one of the oldest girls, Susan, tried cutting his hair in his sleep with the hopes that Julian turning ugly meant Logan would bring someone else with him to his apartment. It didn't work. Any form of violence between the prostitutes was strictly prohibited, so Susan was harshly punished for that. The last thing Julian heard about Susan was that she overdosed on heroin and died in the room next to the one Julian used to stay in.

Now, despite the fear radiating from the occupants of the house, Julian can still feel their judgment toward him and hear their sharp whispers through the thin walls. No one really liked Julian when he lived here. They mostly just tolerated him while some of them took pity on the rookie. 

"Sure. Let's discuss it inside," Ricky tells Logan, making Julian look up.

Logan spares him a look that says don't go anywhere before trailing after Ricky into his office. When the door closes behind them, Julian is deafened by the silence that fills the room.

For a moment he awkwardly stands there, noticing how not much has changed. The house is a decent size, but it's tiny when considering the fact that more than ten people live here. The couch in the living room has springs jutting out of the cushions, while the coffee table is missing one leg and is only managing to stay upright thanks to a carton box shoved under it. The washed-out green wallpapers are peeling, and the old floorboards creak under even the smallest movements.

Julian eventually takes a seat on the lumpy couch. He can hear the low rumble of Logan's voice through the wall, accompanied by Ricky's louder one. It doesn't take long until one of the girls comes out of their room, eyeing him from the hallway.

She's a thin blonde girl, probably around Julian's age. He hasn't seen her around before, so she must be new.

"Are you the boss' pet?" she asks.

There's no malice in her tone, though. She sounds genuinely curious. Julian doesn't have the energy to get offended over the stupid nickname they gave him, so he just gives her a quick nod.

She crosses her arms over her chest, smiling ruefully. Immediately, Julian's eyes latch onto the needle marks littering the inside of her elbows. It makes Julian's gut twist.

"How's he like? All he ever does around here is beat the shit out of us," the girl says with a laugh, and only then does Julian realize that she's probably high. It's too dark to see her eyes, but from her slurred and unfiltered speech, he can already tell.

Julian shakes his head at her. Stop talking, he means to say, but he doesn't want Logan to hear his voice, so he hopes his wide eyes are enough. 

Of course it's not, because the girl continues, "Such a shame I don't got no dick. Logan's a fag, so of course he'll take you. Wish I got a dick."

Julian's finally about to open his mouth when someone grabs her arm from behind. It's Karl, one of Logan's men, and thankfully, he looks more bored than angry. "Aubrey, get the fuck back in your room."

"Don't you fuckin' say my name, ugly cunt," Aubrey hisses, snatching her arm away, and then Karl is striking her with the back of his hand, making her stumble and clutch her cheek.

"I said, back to your room!" Karl yells, leaning down to harshly tug her hair. Aubrey cries out in pain. 

Aubrey sniffles as she climbs the stairs, hair covering her face on the way up, but Julian still catches a glimpse of her red cheek. When she slams the door behind her, Karl turns to Julian, making him freeze for a moment, and then he looks down at his lap and fiddles with his fingers.

Julian hates it when Logan brings him here. He's always wondered why, because instead of whoring himself out in the streets, Logan would much rather drag him here for no reason at all. He thinks it could be some sort of message for the girls, like a way of telling them that if they're good enough, they might end up like Julian. Julian hardly considers himself lucky, but compared to everyone else holed up in this place, living with Logan is practically paradise. 

However, Julian also thinks that it can be a message for him. Maybe, it's Logan's way of telling him that he was the one to pull Julian out of this life. Logan was the one to find him better regular clients. Logan was the one to give him the smallest bit of freedom that he gets to experience every Wednesday. Logan feeds him and lets him bathe and lets him rest—Julian is practically spoiled. Every time they come back here, it's like Logan is reminding him of where he came from, and that if he fucks up, Logan can easily toss him back in here.

Whether or not that really is Logan's motive for bringing him here, it's all that Julian can think about.

☾

Half an hour later, Logan and Ricky come out of the office. Julian stands and hovers by Logan's side, keeping his head down. When they finally leave the house, Julian feels the tightness in his chest gradually unravel.

Back in the car, Julian notices that Logan is carrying a black backpack, one that he didn't have before. Based on the tightness of his grip on it, Julian can tell that it must be stacks of cash. Money from married men and perverts who fuck prostitutes in the backseat of their cars. Money milked from people like Julian, whose entire lives have been turned upside down and endlessly twisted again and again. All of that misery and pain just so that Logan can fill his backpack with money that he didn't work for.

They're silent as Logan begins to drive. It's still early, just a few minutes past four, so Julian knows for certain that Logan has a lot of other errands to run. As expected, Logan eventually stops the car to drop him off near his regular client's meet-up spot. He's supposed to meet him at five, so Julian figures he'll find a way to make use of his free time in the meantime.

Julian turns to Logan, about to thank him for the ride when Logan's lips harshly clash with his. Logan grips his hair with both hands and presses him close. Julian lets his mouth fall open and lets Logan's tongue probe inside.

"Backseat," Logan huffs out, running a rough thumb over his bottom lip.

Julian obeys wordlessly, hopping out of the passenger seat to transfer to the back. As Logan follows after him, Julian thinks about the fact that Logan has clearly accounted for Julian's free time before he has to meet with a client and is conveniently making use of it right now.

Once Logan is seated next to him, he slams the door shut and pulls Julian into his lap. They kiss for longer than they usually do, and then he's quickly undoing Julian's jeans. Once they're removed, Julian lifts himself up a bit so Logan can pull his cock out.

"You gonna be good for me?" Logan says, hot breath fanning over Julian's cheek.

"Yes," Julian says, gasping when Logan grabs his hips and pulls him down so he can feel his hardness against his ass.

Logan spits on his hands and fingers him. It's rushed and dirty and painful. Julian doesn't expect anything but that. No matter how many times they fuck, Julian can never get used to Logan's size. He bites his own forearm as Logan stretches him, tearing him apart. Julian whimpers when he's fully seated, breathing hard against Logan's neck.

"God," Logan groans. "Move. I know you're hungry for it."

Julian still needs a while to adjust to the stretch, but he starts moving anyway. Logan's impatient, so he grabs Julian's hips and makes him bounce up and down on his dick.

This time, Julian can't help the cry of pain that leaves his mouth. They didn't use lube and Julian's barely prepped, so the pain is hard to block out. He clutches onto Logan's shoulder, his nails biting into his skin. He doesn't realize he's crying until he feels Logan's thumb wiping them away from his cheeks.

"Shh. C'mon, Julian. You're a good boy. You'll make this good for me. You like it when it hurts, don't you? You love it," Logan whispers into his ear.

Julian wants to shake his head and scream no, wants to get off him and leave the car. He doesn't. Instead, he sucks it up and starts slowly moving his hips again. This time, Logan only rests his hands on his hips and lets him set the pace. It's all Julian can ask for.

He feels like his forearm is bleeding from how hard he's biting into his skin. It still hurts like a bitch, but he feels a bit numb now.

When Logan's close to finishing, he fucks up into Julian while Julian nearly bites his tongue off from how rough he's going. Logan moans in his ear when he finally comes. Julian gingerly hops off him and puts his boxers on. Before he can pull his jeans on as well, Logan stops him.

Julian freezes. He only has ten minutes before he has to meet with Gerald. Logan can't be thinking of going for another round, can he?

"I got you," Logan says, pulling Julian's dick out from his boxers and palming him slowly. Julian's not hard at all, but his cock slowly fills up as Logan continues to stroke him. Julian barely registers it when he shoots come onto his chest. He's too shocked about the fact that Logan got him off. He never does. Not until now.

Julian's still loose-limbed and weak from his orgasm, but he forces his limbs to coordinate with him as he cleans himself up and pulls his jeans on. Logan merely watches him. When he's done, Julian opens the door. He turns to Logan.

"Um. Bye," Julian says, his brain still feeling like mush.

To his surprise, Logan laughs. "Bye, Julian. Go ahead. Don't be late."

Julian's legs feel like noodles when he finally gets out of the car. He shuts the door and practically wobbles to the sidewalk, wincing on his way there. His ass feels like it's on fire. He can only hope that Gerald's not thinking of fucking him. Maybe Julian will just give him head since Gerald is quite old and complains about tiring easily when he's hovering over Julian anyway.

When he rounds a corner, he catches a glimpse of Logan's car. He's in the driver's seat now, still watching him. When Logan gives him a soft smile, Julian immediately looks away and practically runs to the hotel.

☾

Julian visits the café again the next time he has a day off. 

Even before his life went to shit, he's always been told that his mind tends to fly a lot. His sister will be in the middle of talking to him and he'll zone out, staring at a stain on the tablecloth or a moth that zooms past the window. Nowadays, he thinks "zoning out" isn't exactly the best word to describe it when his eyes suddenly appear glazed over while his mind is clouded or in a completely different place. He feels disconnected from his body, as though he's floating somewhere overhead, only vaguely aware of what's happening to him. It happens a lot during sex, and when he's lucky, some clients like how pliant he becomes, how he practically melts into their arms and allows them to do whatever they please. Sometimes the clients don't like it, because how can Julian play his role when he isn't even properly awake?

For some reason, Julian feels like that as he walks into Caffeinated. The bell jingles as he opens the door. The voices around him are white noise. He looks at people but doesn't register their faces. He feels like a balloon floating up into the sky, weightless and aimless; it's a wonderful feeling.

He finds himself sitting at a table a moment later. There's a gap in his memory, he can't quite tell how he got here in the first place, but then a face comes into view. The person's eyebrows are furrowed in concern. He hears a muffled voice, as though it's underwater. Slowly, the voice becomes clearer until he can finally make out what they're saying.

"...call someone? Are you okay?"

Julian blinks. The person in front of him is wearing a barista's apron. The smell of coffee reminds him where he is. The person's hands are on his shoulders, warm and heavy against his jacket. He vaguely wonders if this person pressing on his shoulders is the reason he somehow landed back on earth.

The person, Julian realizes next, looks properly freaked out. His lips are pursed in a thin line, eyes wide and stormy with concern. He's staring intently at Julian as though he's looking for something.

His brain seems to be working again, because he recognizes this man as the new barista. The person who gave him a free slice of red velvet cake. The person who wrote a note on a napkin.

"You gave me cake," Julian hears himself say.

The man looks surprised at first, conflicted, even, then it morphs into a soft, if unsure, smile. The space between his eyebrows isn't as pinched as it used to be, though.

"Yeah, that's me," the man says, laughing a bit.

Julian nods slowly, then frowns. "Why?"

Even his own voice sounds a bit off to himself. Maybe the man can hear it too, because his barely-there smile slowly disappears. 

"Well," the new barista starts off slowly, "it's just a thing I like to do. I felt like you were the type of person to enjoy a slice of red velvet cake, so I sneaked one into your paper bag when you weren't looking."

Julian licks his lips. "I did enjoy it."

"See? I'm great at it."

Julian smiles a bit. He still feels off, like his head is too heavy for his body and his tongue too big for his mouth. He realizes he's on his way to zoning out again when the man seated across him speaks again.

"You know what? I'll demonstrate my talent again. How about I order you something that I think you'd enjoy?"

Julian shrugs and pinches the bridge of his nose. He can feel a headache coming on.

It's not long until another barista—it's Casey, he notices—brings him a tray of black coffee and a croissant, clearly instructed by the man in front of him.

"Close," Julian says.

"Yeah? What did I get wrong?" he asks. Julian can hear the smile in his voice.

"The pastry. I usually go for the glazed donut. Much cheaper," Julian says. He pulls the cup of coffee toward him and uses it to warm his hands.

"Hmm. I like donuts better than croissants, as well. They're so much more unhealthier," he says with a grin.

Julian smiles back, but then he realizes he's talking to a barista who's supposed to be behind the counter. He purses his lips. "Um, thanks for ordering for me. You can go back to work now if—"

"No, it's fine. Not that many customers around this time. Casey can handle them just fine," he says, looking back at Casey who's handing over a tray to an old lady. Casey catches them looking and throws a wink their way. 

Julian studies the man in front of him, wondering why he's sitting with Julian in the first place. He sees the name tag clipped to his apron. Aaron.

"Besides," the new barista says, leaning in a bit as if to share a secret, "Casey left me alone behind the counter too when her boyfriend came to visit a few hours ago. They were gone for a while and I had to handle everyone's orders, so she can't really complain now."

Julian feels another smile tugging at his lips. "I guess that's fair."

"Exactly," he turns to fully face Julian, grinning. "My name's Aaron, by the way. I hope this interaction isn't creeping you out. I heard I can be quite straightforward."

Julian shakes his head. "No, no. Um. You're fine."

"You're not so bad yourself," Aaron says with a cheeky grin, making Julian's face heat up.

"I meant like—" Julian starts, only to be cut off by Aaron's laughter. 

"I'm only teasing, sorry," Aaron says, softer this time.

Julian laughs awkwardly. "It's fine. I'm just—sorry. My mind is all over the place today. Sorry."

"Tough workload, isn't it? Let me guess—you're a freshman?" Aaron says.

Julian panics a bit and ends up nodding. Aaron only smiles wider. "I'm a senior. I'm guessing you go to Holton, too?"

Once again, Julian nods and ignores the guilt he feels for lying. He's familiar with Holton University as it's only a few blocks away from the café, but aside from walking past the campus a couple of times, he's never been inside. 

"Ah," Aaron says, leaning back on his chair. He looks contemplative. "I remember my freshman years as well. I had a big binder and all those fancy highlighters. I took note of literally every word that came out of my professor's mouth. I was a total nerd."

Quite belatedly, Julian realizes that speaking with Aaron helped clear his head a bit. He doesn't feel like zoning out anymore and he's definitely fully awake now. He feels a bit like a fool, imagining how stupid he must've looked when he walked in here, all dazed and not fully present. Aaron must've seen him and thought he was high or something. 

"I remember it being very stressful," Aaron continues, and Julian can tell that he's trying to be sympathetic toward Julian because he thinks Julian's a freshman who's so stressed by schoolwork that he showed up in here acting like that. Julian wants to laugh.

"Right." Julian fiddles with his rings. He takes a sip of his coffee. It's still early, and as awkward as he feels right now, he doesn't want to go back to Logan's apartment, so he stays put and simply hopes that Aaron won’t get sick of him just yet.

"Here," Aaron says. When Julian looks up, Aaron has written something down on a napkin again. "That's my number. If you need help with your coursework or with finding a building, or even figuring out how to get a high grade from a certain professor, shoot me a text and I'll try my best to help."

Julian takes the napkin in his hands. It makes him feel some type of way—chatting with a "fellow" student, exchanging numbers to talk about coursework, the feeling of having a potential friend. Yet, none of those are meant for Julian. It's his dream life, sure. The ideal version of himself would be taking up some pretentious major in a prestigious university, studying his ass off every night. He'd be out in cafés like this one with a bunch of friends his own age, reading class notes and cramming course requirements at the last minute. He'd be crying over low grades, pulling his hair out from stress, and feeling homesick from staying at a dorm. He'd be celebrating with his family, going out for dinner whenever he gets a high GPA. His ideal parents would buy him a car as a reward. His ideal sister would be the proudest person there is. He would have dreams, and no matter how big they were, he'd still be able to turn them into reality. He'd be free.

"Thank you," Julian says, his throat feeling tight. Every time he comes here, he likes to pretend that it's for his own entertainment. That playing the role of his could've-been-self is nothing but a silly little thing to do for fun. It's during times like this that he remembers how much of a masochist he is. He surrounds himself with things and visions he can never have for real. He never learns.

"My pleasure," Aaron says easily, his smile so blinding and genuine that Julian feels sick to his stomach for lying to him. "Is there any way I can get your name so I know it's you when you text me? I get a lot of texts, like, all the time. It gets really stressful."

He's joking, Julian knows, so he laughs lightly. "I'm sure. Um, I'm Julian."

"Hmm. I guessed you would be a Max or an Alex, but Julian definitely fits better."

Julian purses his lips so he doesn't end up laughing again. Instead, he reaches for a crumpled bill in the pocket of his jacket, about to hand it over to him when Aaron suddenly stands up.

"Nope, that one's on the house, Julian. It's all good."

"But—"

"No buts. Just make sure to come visit us again, alright? Come say hi every now and then. Wave back when I greet you in the hallway and all that," Aaron says, straightening his apron.

Julian reluctantly pockets his money. He looks up at Aaron and smiles. "Sure. I'll do that."

"Great. It was lovely chatting with you. Duty calls, but do send me that text, will you? Even if it doesn't have anything to do with school. I happen to be very talkative, if you haven't already noticed, so if you have any need for a distraction just say hi."

Aaron looks like a genuinely nice guy. He's probably given away his number to several other lost freshmen he's seen. He's just the type of person to help people out for no reason at all other than he wants to. Julian feels guilty for having tricked him into believing that Julian's just one of those ordinary college students with normal lives, but he still finds himself pocketing the napkin with Aaron's number scribbled on it.

"I will," Julian says. "Thanks."

Aaron gives him a mock salute before joining Casey behind the counter again, both of them throwing Julian a smile when they catch him looking their way. Julian smiles back. He forces himself to finish his food since Aaron bought it for him, and it would be kind of rude to leave leftovers where he can see them. By the time he's done eating, a line has formed at the counter. Julian puts his trash away and walks to the door. Even with the long line of customers, Aaron catches his eye and waves goodbye.

Julian waves back, his chest feeling impossibly tight. Then, he turns and leaves, letting the cold night swallow him whole.

Chapter Text

There are odd days few and far between when Julian can't sleep after an entire day of work. He just lies in bed, his skin tingling from his hot shower and relentless scrubbing, blank eyes staring at nothing. His body is sore and his mind is exhausted, but for some reason, his eyes won't close. It definitely doesn't help that he goes to bed at six in the morning, so by the time his eyelids get at least a little bit droopy, the sun's rays are already making their way through the window and hitting him right in the face.

He huffs and turns over, covering his face with a blanket. He's certain that there's no way he's going to sleep now. Usually, he gets up in time for lunch, but one glance at the clock tells him that sleeping is no longer an option as it's already 11:30 AM.

Julian pulls himself out of bed and starts preparing food. He doesn't know if Logan will be here to eat, but just to be sure, he cooks enough for the two of them. Half an hour ticks by and there's no sign of Logan, so he starts lunch without him, barely making a dent on the sandwich he prepared for himself. He wraps Logan's sandwich in a foil wrap and puts it in the fridge. Before closing it, he catches sight of the leftover red velvet cake in its plastic container.

He takes it out and eats it slowly. It's a single slice of cake, but it's taking him days to finish it, so he figures Logan had a point when he told Julian to eat more and fix his appetite if he didn't want to lose clients.

His phone buzzes on the table. It's a text from Logan, telling him that he won't be back until later in the evening. He replies with a simple Okay, the keypad clicking noisily as he types. Julian's pretty sure that this phone is one of Logan's burner phones that he has in stock. It's an old Nokia flip phone model, and while it's ridiculously outdated, Julian isn't complaining. Julian's had it for a few months now, but the only thing he uses it for is to send and receive messages from Logan.

When his mind travels to the crumpled napkin with a phone number in his pocket from his last visit to the café, his stomach turns with guilt. He should throw it away, he knows. He's been trying to do that since the moment he left the café to return to the apartment, his pocket weighing heavier and heavier as he walked home. He never did end up throwing it in the trash, simply because Julian can't shake off the thought of having an ordinary life with Aaron as one of his friends, no matter how temporary it may be.

It's stupid. It's by far the most ridiculous thing Julian has ever found himself thinking about. At the same time, he doesn't want to throw away the opportunity of being a normal nineteen-year-old without at least trying it out first. 

He finishes the cake and rushes to the bedroom to find his jacket. He pulls out the napkin and stares at the group of numbers written there. Julian's too paranoid to save the number to his phone in case Logan finds it, so he knows he needs to have it memorized instead.

He sits at the kitchen island and reads the number over and over again. God, this is so stupid. What will he even say? He can barely hold a conversation in real life unless it leads to sex, so what on earth is he even going to text Aaron? 

Still, Julian has his number memorized by the time he's washed the dishes. He needs to meet a client at five in the afternoon, and usually, he accompanies Logan while he runs errands, but since Logan isn't here, Julian's practically free to do whatever he wants for the next few hours.

Julian's cleaning his nails when he thinks, fuck it, and types Aaron's number on his phone. It's just a one-off thing. Julian's curious about what course Aaron is majoring in, and quite frankly, he’s interested in anything that Aaron has to say. He seems like a nice guy with funny stories, so really, what’s the harm in talking to him?

He's sitting on the couch, swaddled in blankets as he stares at the blinking cursor on the screen. It takes him about ten minutes to think of the first thing to text.

Hey, it's Julian :)

Is that too weird? Too confident? Julian deletes and re-types the smiley face several times before cursing and just pressing send before he goes crazy. Once it's sent, Julian suddenly regrets it and wishes that he never sent it in the first place. If Logan finds out he's texting random people with a phone he gave Julian, it's clearly going to raise some questions. Fuck. He can only hope that once he deletes the text, there won't be any trace or history of it anywhere, which is probably something he doesn't need to worry about because he's literally using an outdated flip phone, but—

His phone buzzes and at first Julian thinks it's Logan scolding him. But it's from the number he just typed in, and his heart practically stops beating.

Hey Julian! How are you? I was starting to think you lost my number…

Julian bites his nail and sends back: No, I was just a bit busy. I'm doing good, you?

Aaron is quick to reply. As good as a senior in college can be, I guess! I'm not gonna lie, with my thesis and everything, it's all a hectic mess.

Julian winces. Of course he's busy—he's an actual student who's studying and wants to graduate. Aaron must be thinking of ways to tell Julian to leave him alone. God, Julian's such an idiot. Aaron was just being nice, he didn't actually want to talk to him. 

Oh my bad! I'm sorry, I'll leave you to it. Good luck with your thesis :D

Julian sighs. He doesn't even know what he's trying to achieve here. Talking to Aaron back at the café just made him feel some kind of way. Comforted and ordinary, maybe. Thinking back to that day, it feels like it happened in a dream. It's the first time in literal years that he's had a genuine conversation (on Aaron's side, at least) with another man that isn't only talking to him to discuss how much he has to pay to fuck him behind the dumpster. It's the first time he felt a bit like his old self, remnants of who he used to be resurfacing ever so slightly before he was reduced to what he is now.

His phone vibrates again. He's expecting a short response from Aaron, something like, Oh haha that's ok! See you around I guess? but instead, he reads: 

No need to apologize. I'm actually not busy right now, so don't worry, you're not bothering me or anything. If anything, I'm worried I'm the one bothering you since you must be busy as well, being a freshman and all that ;)

Julian huffs out a laugh. He replies: Not at all. I'm just killing time :)

Ahh, how fun. I'm an expert at killing time. I do it all the time that I end up with no time at all to write my papers or review for my finals

Julian actually lets out a giggle, replying: For some reason I don't doubt it…

They exchange messages until Julian has to prepare for his client. It's like a bucket of cold water is suddenly thrown over his head as he's reminded of his reality. He's not a college kid having a funny conversation with a schoolmate—he's a prostitute spending his free time pretending to be one.

He tells Aaron that he has to run an errand, to which Aaron replies, Catch ya later! and, for some reason, a picture of a jellyfish. He doesn’t offer an explanation, so Julian finds himself wondering what it might mean while his client fucks into his throat, hard enough to make him want to puke.

☾

Logan is waiting for him when he returns from an entire day of work. As usual, Julian hands over their breakfast and they share the meal at the kitchen island, followed by the cash he's earned for the day. Logan counts it in front of him and says nothing as he pockets it. 

Julian's particularly exhausted today. His throat is sore and his voice is wrecked from the amount of dick he's sucked in the span of a few hours, and still, he's only barely made the quota. The warm coffee helps, but he would rather drink some tea and honey to remedy it.

"A letter came for you," Logan says out of the blue.

Julian looks up and tries hard to get a read on Logan's facial expression. He looks bored and a bit annoyed if his slightly clenched jaw is anything to go by. Julian swallows.

"Um. Really?" Julian can barely speak more than an unintelligible croak. He doubts Logan understood what he just said.

"It was sent to the house on Benson."

Julian's mind is whirring. Who would know about the whorehouse to send him a letter there? But most importantly—who would even send him a letter?

"Maybe it's not for me," Julian says dumbly. He resorts to whispering so that Logan can at least understand his words. When Logan raises an eyebrow at him, he hastily adds, "I can't think of anyone who will write to me. That's all."

Apparently, it’s the wrong thing to say, because Logan pulls a piece of paper from his pocket and slams it on the table, making Julian jump. He doesn't dare move a muscle as Logan stares him down.

"It's from someone called Emily. Does that ring a bell?"

Julian practically stops breathing. He's staring at the white envelope on the table, crumpled at the sides. He finds himself shaking his head because no, it can't be.

"I don't think that’s right. I—" Julian starts and stops, his throat closing in on itself. God, out of all the days this letter could've come, why today? Julian feels like he's a centimeter away from death's door already as it is.

"Do I look like I'm fucking around right now?"

Julian's entire body comes back to life as he shakes his head, eyes wide as he feels panic creep up into his bones. "No, no. I'm sorry, I'm not—"

"Shut the fuck up and read the letter. Now." Logan is standing now, leaning against the table so he's looking down on Julian. His eyes are hard and his mouth is set in a harsh line. Julian reaches for the letter with a shaky hand, distantly noting the lack of a return address before tearing it open.

He unfolds the paper inside and takes a deep breath. His hands are trembling so badly that he has to put the paper down on the table. He scans the page and—fuck. It really is Emily's handwriting.

"Dear Julian," Julian reads, his voice breaking after every syllable, barely able to string together a single word. "I know we haven't spoken since I left. I'm sorry. If I could go back in time to change things, I would. It wasn't fair for me to leave you behind when—"

Julian’s throat tightens with suppressed emotion. He remembers that day so vividly. 

Emily was always the rebellious one, the kid that Dad talked ill about behind her back. So when she got pregnant at seventeen, Julian wasn't all that surprised, but their parents—especially Dad—didn't take the news lightly. Day after day they'd fight and yell in each other's faces, arguing about keeping the baby, getting rid of it, or giving it up for adoption—until one day, Emily left for good.

Julian was only fourteen then. He shared a bed with Emily, so he remembers being woken in the middle of the night by the sound of Emily shoving all her belongings into her bag. 

"What are you doing?" Julian asked, rubbing away the sleepiness from his eyes.

Emily looked so thin and exhausted that night. She gave Julian a tired smile, leaning over the bed to kiss his cheek. "I'm meeting Raymond at the bus stop."

"But it's so late?"

Emily bit her lip. In the darkness, Julian still saw the way her eyes filled with tears. "Dad wants to take my baby away. I can't—I can't do that. I don't care what Mom and Dad think. Raymond and I are going to raise our baby. We're going to be a family."

She zipped her bag up and pulled Julian into a tight hug. 

"Will you be back?" Julian asked. Dread was already taking over his body—their life at home was bad enough, but Julian couldn't imagine a life without Emily. Emily was the only good part of his day. When all his parents did was fight and yell, Emily was there to read him a story, sew his torn clothes, and sneakily buy him sweets and junk food. Julian didn't realize he was already crying until Emily started crying as well, clutching him tightly to her chest.

"Oh, baby, I'm so sorry. For now, you need to stay with Mom and Dad, okay? I'll find a way to get you, just not right now. I'll be back. I promise I'll be back for you," Emily said, her voice wobbling as they held onto each other as if their lives depended on it.

There was a spiteful part of him that wanted to wake their parents up just to get Emily to stay. But Julian wasn't evil. He didn't want to be the reason that the baby in his sister's stomach was taken away from Emily. So when she walked out of the house that night, Julian muffled his sobs in his pillow as best as he could, not making a single sound.

That was his first heartbreak.

"I said read it," Logan snarls, harshly grabbing him by the hair and tilting his head down toward the letter.

Julian sucks in as much air as he can, his vision blurry from tears as he continues, "...wasn't fair for me to leave you behind when you clearly weren't safe or happy at home either. I only learned about Dad's death a few months ago, and ever since, I've been gathering whatever information I can about where you and Mom are. I've been sending out letters to several addresses, hoping that at least one of the rumors of your whereabouts is true. I hope you find this letter and I hope you reach out to me. I want you to finally meet my baby. I love you, I miss you, and I'm sorry. L-love, Emily."

There's an email and a number written at the bottom of the page. Logan snatches the letter away from him before he can read it, making Julian choke on a sob.

The silence seems to stretch as Julian cries into his palms while Logan paces the room back and forth. Julian is still taking everything in—the fact that Emily is alright, that she cared enough to look for them, and wants to find and help Julian. Even after years of radio silence from Emily, years of her promise remaining unfulfilled, Julian can't find it in his heart to hold a grudge against his big sister. If anything, it was worry and guilt that kept him up at night, wondering what happened to Emily and her baby after she left to face the world on her own at seventeen. 

But now she's looking for him, for them, and Julian just read her letter aloud to his pimp. 

"Emily seems like a sweet girl," Logan says. He stands behind Julian's chair, resting his hands on Julian's shoulders. He leans down, his breath fanning across the side of his neck. "I want you to write a letter back to her, Julian."

A fresh wave of tears springs from Julian's eyes. "Logan, please—"

"Ask her how she's doing. She's got a baby, right? Ask her about the kid, too. Tell her that you and your Mom are doing alright, but you're dying to get back in touch with her. Ask her to come visit, hmm? So we get to meet her."

Julian feels like the world is collapsing in on him. He's so exhausted he feels like one last nudge will tip him over the edge.

"Will you do that for me, Julian? Will you be good?"

Logan retrieves a piece of paper and a pen and places them on the table in front of Julian. Julian's eyes are so puffed up from crying that he can barely see it.

"C'mon, now. Get started."

Slowly, Julian shakes his head. He can feel the moment Logan registers his movement as he goes stiff behind him. As if to prove a point, Julian firmly says, "No."

In a flash, Julian is slammed against the wall, his feet lifted off the ground as Logan presses his forearm against his throat, eyes livid while Julian trembles in his grasp. "What was that?"

"I said no. I can't!" Julian shouts. "Please, you don't have to drag her into my father's mess, I'm already here to pay for it! "

Their father made a lot of enemies, including Logan's family—the Peytons. The Peytons are loan sharks, and his father turned to them when his gambling debt grew uncontrollably. Then, his father took his own life when he couldn't repay the Peytons. At sixteen, Julian was the one who had to pay for all his mistakes. 

Still, the Peytons love to hold a grudge. They want Emily, too. Out of spite more than anything else. Julian can't let them ruin Emily's life as well. He can't.

"I'm giving you one more chance, Julian. Think your next words through. You know I don't like it when you disobey me," Logan says through gritted teeth, his grip harsh enough to leave bruises on his skin.

Julian knows that Logan can send a letter pretending to be Julian to Emily if he wants. But if Emily sent a letter to the whorehouse of all places, then she likely knows that Julian is possibly caught up in something illegal, and she'd know to be cautious. She won’t fall for their tricks easily. She’ll probably only believe it’s really him if Julian himself calls her on the phone. 

"You and your sister will pay for your father's debts. Whether you cooperate or not, we will find her, so take my advice and save yourself the torture, because it's going to happen. Your stubbornness isn't going to do a fucking thing."

Julian shakes his head, wincing as Logan slams his head on the wall. The world spins around him, and when he can talk again, all he chokes out is, "No."

Logan lets go of him and he drops to the ground like a sack of potatoes. The first hit is always the most painful, because Julian's senses are still too alive, making him feel it all, and his brain is too alert to block it out. Logan punches him square in the face, followed by a kick in the gut. Julian curls up on the floor with a whimper and tries to cover his head with his arms as Logan strikes him again and again.

"Don't make me do this, Julian," Logan pants as he hovers over him. 

Julian shakes his head, crying, "I'm not letting you take Emily too, I'm not—!"

Logan picks him up just so he can hit Julian in the face. Blood oozes from his nose. Another hit makes Julian hear a high-pitched ringing in his right ear. Several consecutive hits turn everything blurry, and then it all fades to black.

Julian slips in and out of consciousness, but the next thing he knows, he's falling face-first onto the cold bathroom floor. He hears Logan's voice through the clouded mess in his head, saying, "You want punishment? Fine, I’ll give it to you," followed by the door slamming loudly and a lock clicking shut.

He doesn't move for a while. The cold tile feels good against his sore, aching body, so he lies there and lets himself hurt all over. It could've been worse. Logan definitely held back because Julian needed to work. If it were anyone else, Julian would likely be a corpse floating in a river instead of a beaten-up boy in a locked bathroom.

Somehow, after what feels like hours, Julian manages to push himself into a sitting position. He leans against the bathtub, wincing from the coldness biting into his back. He still can't find the strength to stand up and get water from the sink, so he makes do with his shirt and uses it to wipe the blood dripping from his nose and the cuts on his face.

Then, Julian prays. He stopped believing in God a long time ago, but he prays to any god that's listening, begging them to keep Emily and her kid safe. He begs them not to let her get caught up in this like he did. He begs them not to let her down like they did him.

He's crying again and it only makes his headache worse, so he forces himself to stop thinking. He waits for sleep to take him under, but maybe he deserves to endure this pain because it never comes. 

Julian flinches when he feels a vibration against his thigh. It takes him a while to remember that his phone is tucked in his pocket. When he pulls it out, it's a text from Aaron.

Good night, Julian :) You can definitely take on that schoolwork. Never give up!

Splayed on the bathroom floor with a bloodied, bruised face and possibly a few broken ribs, Julian barks out a broken laugh.

Chapter Text

"You're a fucking slut. You fucking love this." The man thrusts into him, his hands clutching Julian’s thighs tightly while Julian grips his shoulders.

They're in a dingy club bathroom. Julian's pressed against the wall with his legs wrapped around the man's waist, bouncing up and down as the client fucks up into him. The guy has bulging muscles and barely breaks a sweat in carrying him. The sight makes Julian feel weak and pathetic.

"Say it," the man hisses, biting at his neck.

Julian tries his best to moan convincingly, arching his back off the cold tile wall. Disgust fills him as he forces himself to gasp out, "Yes, yes, oh my God, harder!"

"You—fucking—whore," the man groans out between thrusts. Julian can feel him getting closer and can tell that his thrusts are getting less coordinated and more frantic as he chases his climax.

"Keep going," Julian whines, leaning his head back to expose the long column of his neck. Immediately, the man attacks it with kisses and bites. 

"Fuck, I'm—" A harsh breath punches out of the man, his arms trembling as he finally comes. He goes rigid and falls into Julian, pressing him even harder into the wall. Julian winces at the pain in his ribs—it's barely been a couple of days since Logan beat him up, but a few bruises and scars aren't an excuse to not bring in his quota for the day.

Julian pants wetly against the side of his face until the man pulls out and sets him down. Wordlessly, Julian pulls his boxers and jeans back up while the man zips up his pants and puts on his belt.

"Hey! Open the door!"

They're in a public bathroom, after all, and Julian can only imagine the line of people dying to take a piss while they fuck against the wall. Julian walks to the door, but the man suddenly grabs him by the wrist.

Instinctively, Julian pulls away with narrowed eyes. "Time's up. You only paid for one round."

"I know," the man says. Now that they're both dressed and standing in front of each other, Julian can't help but feel intimidated. This guy is scarily built, like one of the bouncers outside the club. His arm is probably the size of Julian's thigh. He doesn't want to spend another second locked up in a bathroom with him.

When Julian goes to leave again, the man says, "I just—is this, like, your spot? Will I see you around here again?"

Ah. Julian looks at him over his shoulder with a coy smile. "Give me your phone and I'll give you my number."

It's not really Julian's number—it's Logan's. Logan is the one who negotiates and arranges meetings with his regulars. The man hands over his phone and Julian quickly types in the digits before handing it back.

"Send me a text," Julian says. 

The man nods stiffly, a grimace appearing on his face as though he can't believe he's doing this. Julian gives him a sickly sweet smile before sauntering out of the bathroom, ignoring the annoyed line of men that greets him once he steps out.

Julian returns to his spot outside the club, resting against the brick wall with a huff. He winces as the cold air stings the bruises on the side of his face. Make-up covers most of the bruises on his face, but if he lifts his shirt, there's an ugly splatter of red and deep purple blooming on his pale skin. Luckily, none of his customers were bothered by it. They didn’t care.

There's another hooker toward the end of the block, smoking a cigarette. She's tall and worryingly thin—the kind of skinniness that comes from being a drug addict. She's pretty, though, with long black hair and big eyes. She turns and catches him looking, so she makes a show of looking him up and down. Julian watches as she walks toward him until they're leaning against the wall side by side.

She exhales a puff of smoke. Julian watches the white tendrils curl up in the air. Up close, he can see the tattoos filling up the length of her arm—a prominent illustration of a black snake wrapping around her wrist. He likes the way they look. She holds out a pack of cigarettes, but Julian shakes his head.

She raises an eyebrow at him. "Never seen a whore who doesn't smoke."

"I have asthma," he says, though he's pretty sure he's grown out of it a long time ago.

She laughs quietly. "That sucks."

For a while, they just watch cars dashing past them, the deep bass from the club's speakers vibrating beneath their feet.

"You look like you're not even old enough to enter a club," the girl says.

"I'm nineteen," he says defensively. Julian doesn't care that he's practically a baby in other people's eyes. Most clients love how young he looks, maybe even think he's still a schoolboy. Maybe Julian should be disgusted by that, but frankly, all he cares about is that it at least gets him the clients he needs.

With a sigh, he notices that the crowd outside the club is dwindling. He knows he'll be lucky to have even one or two more customers before he calls it a day. 

Julian's so distracted that he doesn't notice the car until it stops right in front of them. The window rolls down, and the driver motions for the girl. Julian watches as she swings her hips and bends to talk to the driver. Julian is reminded of the days when he was just a rookie out in the streets, heart hammering against his chest every time a car pulled up by the curb. He used to stand next to the prettiest hookers just so that he wouldn't be chosen, but being one of the few boys in the area, there was quite the demand for him. 

Watching the girl talk to the man in the car takes Julian's mind to a different place. Unbidden, he imagines Emily in her place, and he feels his stomach drop. He's reminded of the letter she sent and he wonders if he'll ever get to talk to her again. He knows Emily's far too smart to fall for Logan's trap, but he still worries. He will never forgive himself if she ends up like this—like him. She's always been the brighter one between the two of them, the one with so much potential. Even with her early pregnancy, he knows she can still make a life for herself. It's far too late for Julian; he's trapped in this life for good. The biggest consolation he can think of is that at least it wasn't Emily who ended up in his place.

He can only hope and pray that Emily doesn't get dragged into this hellhole too.

The girl gives Julian a wink as she hops into the car. They drive away, leaving a cloud of smoke in their wake. A few moments later, Julian fixes his hair as best as he can when he sees a man looking him up and down from the entrance of the club.

Just a few more.

☾

When Julian returns to the apartment, Logan isn't waiting for him like before. There's no letter to open, no hard fists to shield against. It's just silence and the sound of his own labored breath. He feels like crying from relief because the air always feels ten times thicker when Logan is around to watch his every move. Yesterday, Julian accidentally left a piece of eggshell in Logan's omelet, and Logan slapped him across the face so hard he swore he saw stars for at least ten minutes.

He wants Logan to understand that no amount of pain and punishment can force him into risking his own sister's safety. Maybe Logan does know this, which only pisses him off more. That probably explains why he's always looking for the smallest things to punish Julian for.

Keep them coming. He’s willing to take them all.

Julian eats a bowl of cereal, takes a shower, and goes to bed. Somehow, he ends up with his phone in his face, smiling slightly when he finds a message from Aaron waiting for him.

One of my favorite bands released a new album. Is there any chance that you like Bad Suns?

Aaron wasn't lying when he told him that he could talk about literally anything. Ever since they started texting, they haven't stopped. Some days, Julian barely sends in a message or two because of his fatigue, but Aaron always texts him the following day with another topic to talk about. He's a great distraction, and the funniest part is that he doesn't even have to try. He'll jump from topic to topic, send paragraph-long messages about the most random things, and even then, he'll still have some interesting facts or anecdotes left to spare.

Will you forgive me if I say I've never heard of them? Julian sends back.

Let's fix that really quickly, Aaron texts. Attached to the message is a link. Julian doesn't have an internet connection, and he doubts his flip phone can open the link either.

After a bit of reluctance, he replies, Sorry, I have an old flip phone. I can't open the link, but I'll check out their music when I get the chance :)

That's totally fine. Come by Caffeinated (when you're free) at noon and I'll have you listen to it on my phone if you want!

Julian doesn't know when he started getting even more excited than usual to go to that stupid café, but he tries not to think too hard about it.

Sure, I'd love that :D

When Wednesday arrives, Julian honors his promise and is already walking to the café by 11:30 in the morning. Logan wasn't there when he woke up, so Julian took a quick shower and promptly left. He brings his own money, which comes from his customers' tips—the only cash he's allowed to keep from his income. Sometimes, Logan even gives him money for a cab when he asks him to buy stuff, but Julian doesn't use it and just walks to places so he can save the extra cash. 

Since it's lunchtime, the café is more crowded than usual. There's a line at the cashier when he enters. He's thinking about finding a vacant table and texting Aaron from there when he hears his name being called.

"Julian, over here!"

Aaron is sitting at one of the booths, waving him over. He has a comfy-looking maroon jacket over his work clothes and his dark hair is slightly tousled. Julian suppresses the shy smile tugging at his lips as he walks toward him, head bowed slightly.

"Hi."

"Come sit," Aaron says, grinning up at him. Julian takes a seat across from him, fiddling with the ends of his jacket. "Sorry you had to come when there's so many people. Some students like to have lunch here while doing schoolwork and all that. I'm sure you're familiar."

Right. Julian's supposed to be a hardworking freshman. "Yeah."

Luckily, Aaron doesn't seem bothered that he obviously doesn't know how to keep a conversation going, because Aaron alone talks enough for the both of them. "Have you eaten yet? I'm thinking of getting a burger."

"You have burgers here?"

"It's a brand new addition, I'm pretty sure. I think they're also thinking of adding a bacon-and-egg breakfast combo. I think it's a great business move."

Julian's stomach grumbles at the mention of burgers and bacon. He flushes when Aaron laughs, clearly having heard it.

"Sure, I'll just have whatever you’re having," Julian says quietly.

"Coming right up," Aaron says, resting his arm on the seat's backrest as he looks to the side. "Hey, Tommy! Come 'ere for a sec!"

The tall, quiet guy who used to man the counter next to Casey approaches, wearing a barista's apron. He has a poker face on, but he smiles slightly when he meets Julian’s eyes.

"This isn't a restaurant. You're supposed to stand in line and order," Tommy says flatly.

"Can you get us two orders of that burger and smoothie combo? Thanks." Aaron grins.

Tommy rolls his eyes and sighs. "Sure. Anything else for you, Julian?"

Julian startles at being addressed. He didn't know that Tommy knew his name, mostly because it was always Casey who would greet and chat with him while he was ordering. He supposes the baristas get quite familiar with their regulars over time. "Um. No, thanks. I'm good with that."

Tommy nods. "Be right back."

There's an awkward moment when Tommy walks away and neither of them talks. Julian hates being like this, hates feeling even more pathetic than he already is, so he tries to come up with something funny or interesting to say, but in the end, it's still Aaron who breaks the silence.

"Tommy is the son of this café's owner, so don't take it personally if he acts like he owns the place. He quite literally does."

Julian huffs out a quiet laugh. "It's okay, he seems nice. Uh, if he owns the place, why does he work as a cashier?"

"He likes to fill in vacancies every now and then. Now that they hired me, he doesn't have to cover my shift, but he likes to hover around and help out wherever he can."

A group of girls in the booth next to them laughs boisterously, making both of them look their way. Julian can tell immediately that they're college students—a bunch of friends having lunch together and sharing inside jokes.

"I never got to ask you what your major is," Aaron says thoughtfully.

Julian panics for a bit and blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. "Journalism."

Aaron grins. "I knew you were a humanities student."

Julian doesn't even know why he said journalism. He could've said Fine Arts or Music or several other impractical courses that his imaginary college student self would take, but of course he had to blurt out journalism.

"How so?" Julian asks, playing along.

"You have the look of a writer and reader. And I bet you're all about delivering the truth to the masses and all that," Aaron says, making some vague gesture with his hand.

Julian almost laughs. He didn't even finish high school. He can barely write a single paragraph without grammatical errors and he cannot give less of a shit about reporting the truth to the masses.

"Well, tell me yours, then," Julian says because he's afraid he's going to make a fool out of himself if Aaron asks him questions about his major that he can't answer.

"Civil engineering. Not really what I wanted at all, but my mom convinced me to take it when I was a freshman. It's not bad or anything, it's just not something I thought I'd be doing for the rest of my life."

Tommy arrives with their meal, placing it on the table. "Enjoy," he says, giving Julian another smile before walking away.

Julian takes a sip of his milkshake first, and for some reason, his mind is stuck on the last thing Aaron said about doing something he doesn't like for the rest of his life. He finds himself saying, "I think you can still try out a bunch of other stuff you're interested in doing. Just because you have a degree in civil engineering doesn't mean that's all you're allowed to do."

He feels a bit stupid when he's done talking. Once again, he's asking himself what the hell he's even doing. Who gives a fuck about what a whore thinks?

"Hmm, you're right. I also happen to be very into music. In an ideal world I'd be a famous musician," Aaron says, and it doesn't sound like he's kidding at all.

"Yeah? You like singing?"

"I like it, sure, but it doesn't like me at all. I’ve been told I sound like a dying seal," Aaron says with a disappointed sigh, making Julian snort. "I'm more of a musician-musician, you know? I love playing instruments."

"Can I guess what instruments you play?"

Aaron spreads his arms, smiling. "Go on."

Julian purses his lips. "The guitar, of course. That's kind of a requirement if you want to be a musician. Maybe the ukulele as well." Julian pauses and takes in Aaron's well-defined biceps. He nods to himself and says, "Drums. Definitely drums."

Aaron’s eyes light up. "I’m impressed! You got it all right. I also play the triangle, by the way. You shouldn't have left that out." Julian laughs, and then Aaron flexes his bicep with a smirk. "Did these bad boys give me away as a drummer?"

Julian feels flustered for whatever fucking reason, but before he can say anything, Casey walks by their table and hits Aaron upside the head.

Aaron whirls around, his voice going high-pitched. "What the fuck!"

"Don't scare the poor kid," Casey tells Aaron, but she's grinning. She winks at Julian before moving past them to collect an empty tray from another table.

Julian feels like he's missing something here, especially when he looks back at Aaron who looks quite embarrassed. "Sorry 'bout that."

Julian doesn't know what he's apologizing for but he just smiles. "It's okay. Um. You were telling me about some band you were into, right?"

Aaron's eyes light up. "Right. Correct. Here, let me…"

He fishes his phone out of his pocket and opens an app before handing it to Julian. Then, Aaron also lets him borrow one of those wireless earbuds, and they spend the next half hour listening to music with one earbud in each other’s ear. Aaron plays music from a playlist he made himself, saying that it's a culmination of his music taste as a whole. It's mostly punk rock and rock, though there are also a few catchy pop songs sprinkled here and there.

By the time Aaron's break time is over, Julian has already finished his food without noticing. He gives Aaron his phone and earbuds back as they both stand up.

Julian doesn't know what to say, really. What do friends say to each other after a meal? Should he even be calling Aaron his friend? Maybe he should stay for a bit longer, actually, since it would be rude for him to leave after eating—

"Thanks for keeping me company, Jules," Aaron tells him, smiling softly.

Julian feels heat climb up his cheeks at the nickname, but he plays it cool. He looks up at Aaron and wants to tell him that it's the other way around, that ever since they started talking roughly a week ago, Aaron has kept him company during such terrible times and he doesn't even know it.

"Thanks for, like, letting me borrow your phone," is what Julian ends up saying.

"It's nothing. I love to boast about my music taste to my friends even though they're all really basic. I hope you liked them, though."

"Loved," Julian says a bit too enthusiastically. He backtracks, "I mean—they're great. I enjoyed them."

"That's great to hear. Feeds my already inflated ego," Aaron says with that stupid half-smile, half-smirk again.

"Aaron, you don't get paid to flirt with customers!" It's Casey again, and this time Julian is actually certain he blushes. Aaron gives her the finger before turning back to Julian, looking considerably more sheepish than before.

"I'll go ahead, thanks for... thanks for today," Julian says, and he really means it. For Aaron, it's probably just him killing time during his lunch break. He probably finds Julian weird because he clearly has no friends and uses an outdated flip phone. He probably pities Julian. It sucks and it shouldn't hurt as much as it does, but Julian chooses to focus on the fact that he's never felt more relaxed than he does now. 

Aaron can think of him as a pathetic little loner freshman all he wants, because at the end of the day, it's still a hundred times better than what he really is.

"Text me, alright? I want to hear your favorite song from my playlist," Aaron says as he walks backward on his way to the counter. Julian stifles a laugh when Aaron nearly trips on a carpet's loose flap.

"I will," Julian says with a small wave. "Bye."

When Julian walks out of the café, he pretends for a little longer. He pretends that he's just come from lunch with his college friends, and he's on his way back to his dormitory to catch up on the sleep he lost from his all-nighter. He pretends that his body aches because they had a difficult warm-up drill for PE. He pretends that when the weekend comes, he has a family to come home to—a family who misses him every second he's away. A family who would always protect him and never let any harm come his way.

It’s a sweet little fantasy, but he leaves it out the door as soon as he steps over the threshold to Logan’s apartment.

Chapter Text

Logan is perhaps one of the hardest puzzles to solve.

There's definitely a certain truth to the claim that Julian is Logan's "favorite,” but it's never that simple. During the first few weeks of Julian living in the man’s apartment, Logan was nothing but strict. Julian quite literally shook from head to toe every time Logan so much as glanced his way. After sex, Logan would insist that Julian sleep in his bed. Julian practically turned to stone whenever that happened, still and unmoving under Logan's arm, not daring to breathe too hard or move wrong. To say Julian was terrified of him was a huge understatement.

Julian is still terrified of him now, of course, but after living with him for a while, Julian's picked up on a few of his nuances. There are days when Logan's as cold as ice and lashes out at Julian every chance he gets. He doesn't touch Julian unless it's to slap him across the face. Some days, it's like a switch is flipped, and he can't seem to get enough of Julian. They fuck for hours on end, Julian's wrists pinned to the mattress above his head while he looks up at Logan's face. The man always has an unreadable expression during those times. His eyebrows are furrowed, pupils blown wide with lust, and there's that trademark harshness in his gaze, but also a certain softness that sometimes jumps out unexpectedly when he ruffles Julian's hair or kisses his cheek.

Julian doesn't think that people like Logan are capable of loving others besides themselves, but at the very least, he thinks Logan is somewhat… fond of him and is therefore less intense with his punishments and actions. Julian isn't naive enough to think that Logan wouldn't blow his head off if he had to, but Julian's delusional enough to think he'd at least think twice before pulling the trigger.

Today, Logan wakes him up only two hours after he falls asleep. Groggily, Julian sits up in bed and wipes the sleepiness away from his eyes. He finds Logan standing by the foot of the bed, his face passive as he watches him.

"Get showered and dressed. We leave in ten minutes," Logan says before promptly leaving the room.

Julian does as told. He's not sure what to wear, so he puts on a pair of dark jeans and a T-shirt with a low-sloping neckline. Whether Logan is just going to bring him to the grocery store or shove him into a stranger's car to service a customer, the outfit does the job.

In the car, Logan is quiet. He's not playing music nor is he whistling a random tune. Immediately, Julian knows he's in one of his moods. It's been a few weeks since Emily's letter arrived, and though Logan made sure to show him how disappointed he was, he didn't say anything about the topic again. Julian knows Logan isn't going to let it go so easily, which makes him all the more scarier right now as he grips the steering wheel hard, his knuckles turning white. Logan is a puzzle that Julian tries to solve constantly, but time and time again, he ends up scarred and wounded by his sharp edges. 

Julian never learns, and the cycle continues. 

Quietly, they drive for nearly an hour, and it isn't until they pull up at a parking lot that Julian's heartbeat spikes. He recognizes the place.

"Out," Logan says as he pulls the keys out of the ignition. 

Julian's legs feel wobbly as he gets out of the car. Logan slams the door closed, making him jump. Julian stares up at the building's plain white exterior where the name stands out in bold letters: Healing Path Rehabilitation Center. 

Logan appears behind him, setting a firm grip on his hip and urging him forward. Julian swallows past the lump in his throat, his eyes trained on the ground as Logan leads them into the center. When the gray pavement turns into pristine white tiles, Julian takes a shuddering breath before finally looking up to find Logan talking to a medical receptionist. Julian's still reeling from the shock of being brought back here and barely hears Logan's words, but he does catch the name—Amanda Suarez. It's the made-up name she's admitted under.

"Visiting hours end at 5 PM," the receptionist tells them, gesturing toward a large set of wooden double doors on their right.

"Thank you. Have a good day," Logan says with a smile before taking Julian's hand and pulling him along.

Julian doesn't feel awake. It's like there's an extra layer over everything—a glossy film or plastic wrap that makes everything seem like a dream. A nightmare. Either works. Still, he stumbles after Logan until they arrive at a canteen with tables and chairs littered all over the large room. There are floor-to-ceiling windows along one side of the room, allowing natural light into an otherwise dull and prison-like space.

They walk past several occupied tables. There are families and couples and friends, all gathered here for the same reason. 

Somehow, Julian manages to sit at one of the tables nearest to the window with Logan at his side. Julian's staring straight ahead, his heart beating loudly in his ears. He clenches his jaw when Logan rests his palm on Julian's thigh.

"Be good, alright? We're just here for a little visit," Logan says.

Julian nods stiffly, still not looking at him. Predictably, this pisses Logan off because he grabs Julian's chin and turns his head to the side before planting a hard kiss on his lips. Julian wants to pull away, wants to slap his stupid face and yell at him because what the fuck is Logan doing bringing him here? Why the fuck are they here?

Thankfully, Logan pulls away from him before Julian actually does something he'll regret. Logan's eyes glint with malice as he stares him down. "I'll lead the conversation. Say one wrong thing and I'll let Ricky and his men punish you this time around, got it?"

Julian doesn't back down from his gaze. With a clenched jaw, he nods.

"Good. Put on a smile for your Mama, won't you?"

A door opens at the other end of the room. Julian goes rigid. He stares at an odd dent in the wooden table as footsteps approach them, followed by the sound of a chair scraping the floor. A shadow falls upon the table.

"Helen, how have you been?" Logan's tone is sweet.

Julian feels like puking. He can't look up. He can't. Fuck Logan for knowing all the right ways to really get under his skin and mess with his head. Fuck him.

"I'm doing alright. I'm surprised you came to visit," Helen says. Julian isn't looking at her but he knows those words are directed at him. 

The last time Julian saw his mother was about a year ago. She was still suffering from withdrawal then, so when Julian came to visit, she was barely even herself. Julian bets she probably doesn't even remember it. She sounds a lot better now, more put-together and lucid, but all Julian can picture is her pale, sweaty face pressed against the kitchen floor of their old home, the inside of her arm punctured by a needle that tipped her over the edge that night.

"We've been busy. It was a long drive, and we only found the time to stop by. We're sorry we weren't able to come here any sooner," Logan says.

Helen sighs. "That's fine. Frankly, I don't see the point of visitations, anyway. I'll be out of here soon enough. So it doesn't really matter if you come here to see me as if I'm an inmate."

Julian flinches when Logan tightens his hold on his thigh. "That's good to hear. I'm sure you and Julian can discuss going out for some coffee to catch up when that happens, perhaps?"

That's his cue. Julian smiles thinly, glancing at Logan first before finally looking at his mother. She looks healthier and he can tell she’s put on a bit of weight since her clothes aren't hanging off her frame anymore. Her dark hair has a shine to it that wasn't there before, and her skin looks like it's touched by sunlight regularly. Her eyes, though, are tired and dull. She's looking at Julian cautiously, and Julian imagines he has the same exact look on his face.

"Sure," Julian mumbles.

Julian knows how this goes. His mother will leave rehab, live a few months in a dingy apartment in the city with her stoner friends, then she'll relapse in no time and get thrown back into this very same place. It's clockwork and Julian has seen it happen so many times that he'd be surprised if it changed any time soon. Helen doesn't know that, though. Or at least she doesn't accept that this is what her life has become, because every single time, she seems hopeful to start anew and fix her shitty life. Still, she succumbs to her addiction without fail.

"I know you're busy and all, but make time for me, will you? Your sister already fucked off to who knows where, I don't need you disappearing on me, too," Helen says.

It's funny how she can still turn this around and find a way to scold him when she's the one admitted into a rehabilitation facility for the umpteenth time.

"Sorry. I'll try," is all Julian says.

Helen rolls her eyes and turns to Logan. "Talk to him, will you? He only seems to listen to you. He seems to care more about his boyfriend now than his own mother."

Logan laughs. Julian has to close his eyes and take a deep breath.

"That's not true. Julian's just a bit preoccupied with our small business, aren't you, babe?" Logan says, sickeningly sweet, and presses a kiss to his temple. Julian just nods, and then Logan turns back to Helen with a wide grin.

Oftentimes, Julian wonders if Helen really believes their little show. If she's so unfamiliar with her own son that she believes Julian's living with a long-term boyfriend and running a small bakery in the city. It's the drugs, he thinks. The drugs have fucked up Helen's brain so much over the years that she merely glosses over everything and doesn't truly care about anything unless it can be shot into her system and make her fly. Perhaps, if she finds out that Julian's so-called boyfriend has been pimping him off to men thrice his age for years, she'll think it's a joke. She’ll probably laugh before brushing it off and talking about something else.

The sad part is that Julian remembers a time when his mother wasn't gripped by her addiction yet. Julian used to call her the "best mom in the world," used to write letters for her and draw four stick figures holding each other’s hands, wearing large smiles. Now, all Julian has are blurry memories of better days when he didn't have to fear waking up to find his mother sprawled on the ground, covered in her own puke because she took too much heroin for her frail body to handle. 

Julian barely talks after that, barely even listens. He can tell from Logan's constantly tightening grip on his thigh that he doesn't like it, but Julian can't find it in himself to care. Helen doesn't try to get him to talk, at least, and pretends like he's not even there to begin with. Julian takes it as a win.

When it's time to leave, they exchange hugs. Julian catches a whiff of Helen's perfume—the same potent scent that clung to her pillowcase, one that Julian tried so hard to preserve when she was taken to the hospital the night of her overdose. Julian was alone in their house that night. He was convinced that he would be alone from then on, with Emily, his dad, and possibly his mom all gone.

It was the same night Logan and his men came knocking on their front door.

"Take care, alright? I'll see you soon," Helen murmurs as they pull away from the hug. Julian nods and leaves a peck on her cheek.

"Let's go, babe. We don't want to get stuck in traffic," Logan says, taking Julian's hand and intertwining their fingers. Helen smiles at the gesture.

"Take care of my baby," Helen tells Logan, making tears spring to Julian's eyes.

"I will," Logan says. He's a good actor—Julian will give him that.

Once they're back in the car, Julian's first tear drops. Logan starts the engine but he doesn't start driving. "Helen looks great. I feel like it'll finally work out this time around."

Julian scrubs at his face, tears blurring his vision. His voice is small, but there’s a certain edge to it that he can’t seem to control. "What is all this, Logan?"

"Your mom misses you. I know you two have issues, but c'mon, Julian, you can't ignore each other forever."

This is the Logan that Julian despises the most. The one who likes to play games and fuck with his brain just because he can. It gives him a sense of power over Julian, to be able to destroy him not only physically, but in every other aspect as well.

Julian takes a deep breath. "Please. Whatever you're doing, just stop."

"Since when do you give the orders around here?"

"I don't know what you want from me," Julian hisses, unable to hold back. He closes his eyes but that night is still burned into the back of his eyelids—Helen's unconscious body, the strange men at the door, the smell of cigarettes and gunpowder.

It was the night that changed everything. Logan loves to make him relive it, and his favorite way of doing so is through Helen. He loves mocking his pain and trauma, he fucking gets off on it. But Julian doesn't expect anything less from him.

"You know what I want," Logan says slowly. "I told you not to make this harder on yourself than it has to be, but you love being stubborn for no fucking reason."

Logan reaches over and grips his jaw, forcing Julian to look at him. "Will you do as I say, or do I have to arrange a little accident at the rehab center so this will be the last time you see your mother?"

Julian whimpers. "No—don't hurt her, please— "

"Then you're going to fucking help us find your sister."

A sob tears through his throat. He nods as best as he can with Logan's harsh grip on him. His chest feels like it's closing in on itself. This can't be happening. Logan has been threatening Helen's safety to make sure Julian stays an obedient little pet for years now. He doesn't think they'll actually kill Helen because that would mean they won’t have leverage against Julian anymore. They can't. Can they?

"Don't think I won't, Julian. Do you know how many heroin addicts die by suicide every year? Thousands. Your mother will just be another statistic and no one will bat an eye. Don't fucking force me to do it." 

Julian thinks about Emily and her kid, and how she probably has a decent place of her own now. He wonders if she's still with her boyfriend after all these years. He wonders if his niece or nephew goes to school, carrying a little lunch box and a backpack. Julian will never forgive himself if anything happens to them because of him, but he also cannot live with himself if he causes his own mother's death to protect them.

"You can't do that," Julian hears himself say through the haze in his head. He cries into his hands, shaking his head. "You promised you wouldn't hurt Mom if I was good and didn't run away, you promised me—"

"And you're not being fucking cooperative right now, are you? I'll kill your mother because you're pissing me off, and when I find your sister, it'll be her kid's head that I hold a gun to, you understand? Piss me off like this and then that kid's blood will be on your hands."

"Stop," Julian cries, his chest heaving, "just—stop—" Julian chokes, shaking his head frantically at Logan, "I'll be good—I'll cooperate. Please. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Logan's gaze is still hard, but his shoulders relax. "Then you know what you have to do."

He doesn't say anything as he pulls out of the parking lot. Julian cries the whole way back to the apartment, trying in vain to muffle the sound in his hands. It finally sinks in that he just agreed to drag Emily into this hell, that he'll actively help in getting her here and ruining her life—her kid's life—and Julian has never despised himself more.

Logan drops him off a few blocks away from his client's hotel. Preston doesn't question his puffy and red-shot eyes and only comments that he's three minutes late. When they're done fucking and Preston goes to the bathroom, Julian stares up at the ceiling, barely awake. 

For a moment, the numbness running through his body feels like a kind reprieve.

☾

Julian gets drunk later that night. One of his regulars, Michael, takes him out to dinner and gets him drunk on beer and vodka. Then, they return to Michael’s apartment. Julian's so drunk that he doesn’t remember much aside from when Michael fucks him on the kitchen counter and then on the cold tile floor. For a while, he thinks Michael invited a third person in, but then it might've just been his dizziness that made him see two of the same person. 

When the night ends, Julian is sent off wrapped up in Michael's brown coat. Julian tucks the money in his jeans and wobbles down the street, barely able to walk a straight line. Halfway back to the apartment, he gets nauseous and ends up sitting on the cold pavement, his back pressed against what looks like an abandoned shop's brick wall. There's a flickering streetlight across him and about three homeless people lying on the ground a few buildings down.

He's staring up at the starless sky when he feels a vibration against his thigh. With barely functioning fingers, he manages to pull his phone out. It's a text from Aaron. He brings the phone directly to his face, hoping that the letters will stop moving and jumping about.

Julian doesn't understand what Aaron's saying aside from it having something to do with his thesis and nachos. As he rereads the text again, his phone suddenly slips out of his hands. He flails his arms around, catching it right before it hits the ground. He lets out a breath of relief.

"Hello?"

Julian whips his head to the side. The sidewalk is empty.

"Hello? Are you there, Julian?"

It's his phone. 

"What?" Julian says, pressing the phone to his ear.

"You called, what's up?" Aaron says from the other line. It sounds like he's in a crowded place because Julian can hear several other voices and the dull thump of bass from a speaker.

"I did?"

"Yeah," Aaron says with a laugh. "I don't mind. I'm just curious since it's... three in the morning. Why are you still up?"

Julian nearly drops his phone again as he tries to move around and find a more comfortable sitting position. Can pavements be comfortable? 

"What?" Aaron says, laughing again.

"What?"

"You said, 'Can pavements be comfortable?' Is that some kind of knock-knock joke or something?" He sounds amused.

"A knock knock joke would begin with 'knock knock!' then you'll say 'who's there?'" 

"Good point." Aaron huffs out a laugh. "As pleased as I am that you called me and that you know the mechanics of a knock-knock joke, I'm starting to think that you actually drunk-dialed me."

"Why would you—" Julian hiccups, "—say that?"

"You're clearly drunk, Julian. Here I was thinking you were a responsible, grade-conscious freshman who went to bed at ten every day," Aaron says. Julian can almost imagine the teasing smile on his face.

Julian hums. There's a sewer rat crossing the street. "Sorry."

"Don't be, I'm just teasing," Aaron says. "Where are you? You out with some friends?"

"I don't have friends."

There's a beat of silence, and then, "Well, does that mean you're getting drunk with your family? If so, they're pretty awesome."

"They're not awesome," Julian mumbles. The homeless man lying on the ground a few feet away from him stirs a bit but doesn't wake up. "I'm getting drunk with homeless people," he says, giggling.

"Jules, you're not making any sense right now." 

"You're right. I actually got drunk with Michael. Michael's nice, compared to the others," Julian says with a wistful sigh. "He has a kid though, I'm pretty sure."

"Alright," Aaron's voice sounds clearer now, the background not as noisy as it was earlier. "I'm at the club with some friends, and I'm guessing you are too. Tell me where you are and maybe I can swing by to say hi?"

"Not at a club," Julian says, shaking his head. 

"Well, are you with someone? Someone who can help you get home? You sound really drunk."

"No," Julian says quietly. He plays with the hem of Michael's coat and sniffs. "I'm alone."

"Where are you? I have a car, I can drive you home. It's too late for you to be out," Aaron says firmly.

Julian laughs lightly. "Never too late to be out. The night is like, my day."

"Okay, but seriously, I'm worried. Can you tell me where you are?"

Julian clumsily stands up and nearly topples over once he's on his feet. Thankfully there's a wall beside him. "Dunno. Just—I'm walking back to the apartment right now, it's so cold, I'm—"

"Jesus, why are you alone? Can you please find a store or somewhere you can stay for a bit while I drive to you?" 

Julian walks past a homeless man and drops some of Michael's tip into his empty can. "Why are you so nice to me, Aaron?"

Aaron makes a surprised sound. "We're friends. I want you to be safe. You shouldn't be getting drunk on your own."

"Really?"

"Yeah, you might get into an accident and—"

"We're friends?" Julian asks, clutching the streetlight as the ground seemingly shakes under his feet.

Aaron's voice softens. "Yes, Jules. You're my friend and I'm yours, too, if you like. Now, as a pair of good friends, can you tell me where you are?"

Julian looks up and realizes he's probably lost. He doesn't recognize the quiet eeriness of these vacant streets. "Um. Well, I thought I was going the right way but apparently not…"

"That's okay, can you find some type of landmark, like a convenience store or some shop that I can find instead?"

Julian walks around the block until he finds a McDonald's. He tells Aaron this, along with the name of the street that it's on.

"Okay, I'm already driving. Don't hang up, alright? Can you go inside and sit at one of the tables while you wait for me?"

Julian says yes and sits down at one of the booths near the windows. It's still dark out, but there's a tint of bright blue in the sky already.

"You know," Julian says into his phone, "you have a very pretty voice."

Aaron laughs. "Why thank you, Julian. So do you."

Julian isn't sure what happens next, but apparently he passed out because he wakes to Aaron's softly shaking his shoulders.

"Hey," Aaron says, smiling. He's wearing a black sweater and jeans, and his eyes look tired. He sits down beside Julian with a hand on the side of his neck. Julian enjoys the warmth of it. "Are you okay? I got worried when you stopped answering my questions on the phone."

"Sorry. Fell asleep, I think," Julian mumbles, rubbing his eyes. He winces when he realizes he's got a headache.

"That's okay. I'm gonna order some food for us, okay?"

Julian folds his arms on the table and rests his head on them, looking up at Aaron. "'Kay."

When Julian gets some water and coffee in his system, he feels a bit better. He's noticeably more clear-headed, but he's still not completely sober and his head continues to pound. Whatever—it's still progress.

"So, are you going to share your little adventure tonight with me?" Aaron says jokingly, but Julian knows he's really looking for an explanation as to why he’s drunk at three in the morning with no one to take him home.

"Just…" Julian drawls, circling the rim of his coffee cup with his finger, "I was on a date."

"Yeah?" Aaron raises an eyebrow. "Was it with the Michael guy you mentioned on the phone?"

Julian nods. It's not exactly a lie.

Aaron leans forward, his eyes glinting. "Let me guess—did the date go south when you found out he had a kid? You also happened to mention that."

Julian groans, making Aaron laugh. 

"Don't be embarrassed. I had a date before, and let's just say that I nearly killed her that night. We had a cute little picnic date and it was going really well at first. As she was taking her first bite out of the peanut butter sandwich I prepared, I found out the first fact about her—she's allergic to peanuts. Like, deathly allergic."

Julian winces. "Did she end up okay?"

"Yeah. She never returned my calls or anything, but she did survive."

Julian lets out a breath of relief. Aaron grins at his reaction and says, "See? However bad you think your date went, just remember that there are always worse ones."

Aaron keeps the conversation flowing as they eat, but eventually, Julian feels that familiar turn in his stomach. It must show on his face because Aaron's immediately at his side, rubbing his back comfortingly.

"Do you need the bathroom?" Aaron asks worriedly.

So, they end up in the bathroom stall, where Julian bends over the toilet puking his guts out while Aaron holds his hair back and rubs soothing circles into his back.

He helps Julian to the sink and lets him wash his mouth. When he's done, Julian turns to him with a sheepish smile. "Sorry."

"It's human nature, you're totally fine," Aaron says with a grin.

Aaron insists on driving him home and Julian doesn't overthink it when he agrees.

"Not to sound like your mother, but you really shouldn't be walking around drunk in the middle of the night," Aaron says as he pulls out of the parking lot, giving Julian a pointed look.

Julian ducks his head and fiddles with his fingers. "You're right. Sorry. I wasn't thinking."

"Also, can I just say that your date was a total douchebag? He's supposed to drive you home. It's only polite," Aaron says. The skin between his eyebrows is pinched. It’s kind of adorable.

"No, he was okay. I wanted to go home alone so I just... did. It was stupid."

Aaron's face softens. "If there are any other failed dates in the future, give me a call and I'll be your ride home."

Julian thinks he's just trying to be funny, but Aaron looks serious. Julian fumbles for something to say. "That's—um, thank you. That's very kind."

"Anything for a friend." Aaron pats his knee.

Julian gives him directions to Logan's apartment but asks to be dropped off a few blocks away, just because he can't have Aaron showing up at Logan's apartment complex under any circumstance. 

When Aaron pulls over, Julian says, "I'm sorry I called out of nowhere. You were out with your friends and you didn't have to—"

"Julian," Aaron cuts him off gently, turning in his seat to face him. "I didn't do anything I didn't want to, okay? Plus, I'm glad you called. I care about you and I wouldn't want anything bad to happen to you."

It's a testament to how much Julian craves kindness when tears immediately spring to his eyes just by hearing those words. He looks away and stares down at his lap. "Okay. Thank you."

"You're welcome. And I really meant it when I said you're my friend. I'm always here to help no matter what. Promise me you'll call if you need anything?" His voice is so unbelievably soft and genuine that Julian doesn't quite know how to react to it.

"Promise," Julian says, looking up to find him smiling.

"Great. Come by the café when you can, alright? I need an excuse to hang out with you."

Julian laughs. "Okay. I'll be there."

They say goodbye and Julian steps out of the car, turning around to wave at him through the window. Julian watches as he drives away, and for the first time in a while, he doesn't feel completely numb.

Chapter Text

"If you mess this up, your mother will fucking pay for it, you got it?"

Julian's sitting at the dining table. Logan stares him down from where he's standing across from him. There's a phone on the table, and Ricky is watching them from the couch, his gun resting casually on his thigh.

Julian nods, clutching the piece of paper in his hands. Logan hits the record button and Julian starts reading.

"Hi, Em. I got your message. Mom and I are okay, we've been laying low in the city for a while now. We've been so worried about you. How are—how are you? Your baby? We really want to get back in touch with you…"

Julian's mouth feels dry as he continues reading the words Logan wrote down. He tries to keep the shakiness from his voice and hopes that he doesn't sound robotic. Or maybe, secretly, he hopes his fear and anxiety can be heard in every single word he's reading, and he hopes Emily will pick up on it when she listens to the recording.

He reads out a house address he doesn't recognize and asks Emily to come see them there. Repeatedly, he says how he wants it to "just be the three of us" and Julian can only hope that Emily's not stupid enough to come alone.

When he's done, Logan takes the phone and slips it into his pocket. His face is impassive as he rounds the table and sits down next to him. Julian glances at Ricky who looks quite bored. 

Logan rubs at his arm, his tone condescending as he says, "Isn't this great? We're arranging a family reunion for you."

Ricky snorts. Julian doesn't give him the satisfaction of getting a reaction out of him and merely stares straight ahead.

Luckily, Logan seems to be in a relatively good mood because he doesn't call Julian out for it and simply stands up, smirking. "We can invite her over any time."

"You'd love that, wouldn't you?" Ricky chimes in, standing up as well. "To get both the Harper kids on a leash, huh?"

Julian isn't looking at them. He hasn't eaten anything all day but his stomach is turning and he feels like puking.

"I'll give you a little piece, don't you worry. I always share."

There's a bark of laughter. Julian's nails bite into his palms as he curls his hands into fists under the table.

A roll of money lands on the table in front of Julian. Logan says, "Buy us some beer. We're also out of groceries, so sort that out."

Julian takes the money and heads straight to the door. Ricky slaps his ass as he passes him, then they're both laughing as Julian makes it out to the hallway. He doesn't realize he's only wearing a thin T-shirt without a jacket until he's already walking down the sidewalk, arms wrapped around himself in a vain attempt to keep himself warm.

He doesn't recall much about how he makes it to the grocery store. Julian has a lot of moments like that—blacking out randomly. There are large gaps in his memory, and whenever he reaches some sort of consciousness, his mind feels sluggish and his thoughts all over the place. He used to panic when it happened—suddenly realizing he was in someone's bed, or that he walked seven blocks past Logan's apartment without noticing and without remembering how it happened. Now, though, there's some relief in it. He feels so out of it, almost like he's drugged, that he doesn't have to deal with his thoughts for longer than necessary. Julian's certain that a psychologist would have a fancy, hard-to-spell word for it, but all Julian knows is that it has something to do with the pain and trauma he endures every day. In the grand scheme of things, though, it doesn't really matter.

Julian goes straight to the public bathroom instead of rushing to get Logan his stupid beer. He locks himself in one of the stalls and waits for his tears to fall. His chest feels heavy and overcome by guilt—he knows what he did, that by cooperating with Logan, he's helping him bait Emily into getting dragged into this mess, into this life that she shouldn't even be remotely concerned with. Like himself, Emily was just born into a fucked-up family with fucked-up parents, and now they're being punished simply because they share the same blood as their father.

Julian stops himself there—the mere thought of his father makes hot rage spread through him, so he forces himself to stop thinking and just float like he always does. Existing and not existing at the same time. Julian would like to think he's mastered the art of it, of acting untouchable and retreating into that familiar, safe space in the depths of his mind where no rough hands and guns and alcohol-stained breaths can reach him, but there are days like this when he just can't seem to shut his brain off. He can't float and therefore has to trudge through the dirty murkiness of the hell he belongs to and the very messiness of his own brain. He trudges and kicks and runs, and eventually, he drowns.

"Hey, is this stall occupied?"

Julian flinches when someone knocks on his door. He stands up and wipes at his cheeks only to realize that they're dry. Perhaps he's all out of tears after all.

"Uh, hold on. I'm coming out," Julian croaks out. He walks out of the bathroom with his head down, avoiding everyone's gaze as he heads to the grocery section and grabs a cart.

It's still cold inside despite the heating system. His teeth chatter as he reaches for two packs of beer and some canned goods. He's sure it isn't normal for someone to feel so cold all the fucking time, but he thinks it has something to do with his overly skinny body. Panic rips through him when he thinks of what this means for his job—his clients might get turned off if they feel like they're fucking a skeleton with barely any fat or heat to hold onto and feel. With that in mind, he puts several packets of chips and bread in his cart, making a mental note to eat a ton tonight.

"Julian?"

Julian freezes. He hopes this person isn't one of his clients. What kind of cheating husband would acknowledge the whore he fucks in his downtime at a fucking grocery store?

He takes a yogurt pack from the freezer and pushes his cart along, pretending he didn't hear the person calling his name. He's not in the right state to deal with creepy, stalker-ish clients right now. It's happened more times than Julian would like—clients who'd get so attached to him and seek him out outside of their arrangements. He has Logan to deal with those people for him, but right now, Julian doesn't want Logan to get the satisfaction of knowing how much Julian needs him.

"Julian!" the person says again, accompanied by rushed footsteps. 

Julian jolts so hard when he feels a hand on his elbow that he nearly sends an entire shelf of cookies tumbling to the floor.

"Fuck—sorry, sorry," Julian says instinctively. He doesn't even know who he's apologizing to. The packs of cookies, maybe. Julian kneels on the floor to pick up the few pieces that fell from the shelf and shakily returns them to their designated spots.

"Didn't mean to scare you, I'm sorry. Here, let me help," says the person, kneeling next to Julian to take the cookie boxes from him and help him out. It takes Julian a while to recognize who it is, and when he finally does, he lets out a sigh of relief.

Aaron smells strongly of aftershave and minty perfume. He's wearing a leather jacket and a sunny smile when he catches Julian's eyes.

"Sorry. I thought—I thought you were someone else. Didn't mean to freak out," Julian mumbles, putting back the last fallen cookie pack before standing up and dusting off his jeans.

Aaron follows and rises as well. Julian vaguely notes how Aaron slightly towers over him, but unlike the other men who make him feel small, Aaron doesn't intimidate him or make him feel unsafe. Aaron may be tall and relatively muscular, but Julian doesn't feel the need to cower or shield himself from a punch he always feels is coming.

"No, no. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have grabbed you like that," Aaron says. He sounds like he means it. Aaron tacks on a smile—a familiar smile that Julian has come to know over these past few weeks. "I just saw you and thought I'd say hi. I'm buying groceries with my roommate, but I'm not sure where he went. I'll have to look at the chocolate and candy aisle, maybe."

Julian smiles. "Well, um. Yeah—I'm buying groceries for me and my roommate as well."

Aaron looks at his cart, nodding. "Hmm. You must be a great roommate if you're okay with doing all the grocery shopping by yourself. My roommate, Steven, will push back grocery shopping for weeks just to make sure that I'm here to help him out."

"Well, Loga—um, my friend's kind of busy, so I don't mind," Julian says quietly.

"You just proved my point," Aaron says, grinning. "You're an absolute angel."

It's weird to hear a compliment that isn't only said as foreplay to fucking. "I'm not sure about that, but thanks."

"You're welcome," Aaron laughs. He picks up a loaf of bread from Julian's cart and frowns. "This bread is shit, by the way. Tastes like cardboard."

"Oh," Julian says. "Sorry. I don't usually buy bread so I didn't know."

"I have a few bread recommendations if you don't mind my company," Aaron says lightly. He looks hopeful for some reason—but also nervous, like he's worried Julian might get pissed off at him or tell him to fuck off.

"It'd be an honor," Julian says and flashes him a dimpled smile to quell his nervousness, whatever the cause of it. Aaron's shoulders relax, and he gives that bright smile again. Julian feels like he's looking directly at the sun.

And so they spend the next half hour walking around the store, filling up Julian's cart. Aaron was serious when he said he had recommendations, because he also suggested new brands to replace the milk, eggs, and spreads that Julian already had in his cart. Julian doesn't mind, not really, but he hopes he doesn't go past the budget.

"How are you, by the way?" Aaron says as they walk down the laundry detergent aisle. "I mean, we haven't really talked after that night I drove you home. I hope I didn't say or do something to, like, make you uncomfortable. If so, you can tell me to fuck off right now—"

"No, no," Julian cuts him off. "Sorry. I was a bit busy for a while, I'm sorry for not responding and stuff. I guess it kind of slipped my mind. That makes me sound like a dick but I swear I didn't mean to. I'm sorry."

Between selling his body daily, visiting his mom at the rehab center, and responding to Emily's letter as per Logan's commands, Julian has a lot on his mind and barely enough energy to respond to Aaron's casual, friendly texts. In the beginning, he liked how it made him feel like an ordinary person, but lately, Julian can't even pretend anymore. His reality's far too haunting to ignore.

"No need to apologize," Aaron says softly. "I was just worried. Sorry if that's weird—I'm just a bit protective over my friends. Hopefully, your roommate took care of you when you woke up with a hangover?"

If by "taking care of him" Aaron means Logan fucking Julian while he was passed out from being hungover, then yes, Logan did take care of him.

"Yeah," Julian mumbles, followed by a bitter laugh. He tucks his left hand into his pocket and grips the cart handle with the other, shivering from the cold gust of wind that drifts through an open window. "You can—you can still text me, if you want. I'll make sure to answer this time around. Promise."

Aaron has been the only relatively positive thing in his life lately. As pathetic and selfish as it may seem, Julian doesn't want Aaron to stop talking to him. He enjoys the attention, because for once, it isn't from men who can't stop groping him and looking at him like a predator would its prey. Aaron calls him his friend and talks to him because he thinks they go to the same university. However, Julian can't help but feel like he's the predator between him and Aaron, what with him pretending to be someone he's not and taking advantage of Aaron's kindness. 

The realization makes him even more disgusted with himself, but he’s in too deep to stop now.

"Of course I want to. But only if you promise me you'll tell me if I start to get annoying," Aaron says with a pointed look.

Julian picks up a bag of onions and tosses it into the cart. "You're never annoying."

"I think I'll keep you around," Aaron says with a laugh, "you're really good for my self-esteem."

"Aaron!"

They both turn around to find a red-headed guy running toward them, dragging along an overflowing cart. He stops in front of them, panting. "I've been looking everywhere for you. Why have a phone if you're not using it?"

Aaron rolls his eyes. "Steven, this is literally the smallest grocery store in the city, if you actually looked for me, you would find me quite easily."

Steven opens his mouth to say something, but then his eyes shift to Julian and he suddenly smiles. "Oh! Sorry, I didn't know you had a friend with you. I'm Steven, Aaron's best friend and roommate."

"Just roommate," Aaron mutters, earning him a light punch on the arm. Steven turns back to Julian, his smile still there, and then offers his hand. Julian wants to laugh at the formality of it but just shakes his hand with a small smile.

"I'm Julian," he says.

Steven comically raises his eyebrows, looks at Aaron, then back at Julian, and then says, "Oh! Julian. I've heard a lot about—oof!"

Aaron tries to mask the fact that he just elbowed Steven in the gut, forcing an exaggerated smile across his face. "So. I hope my product recommendations were helpful. I can personally say that that brand of beans is life-changing."

Julian smiles. "Yeah. Um, thanks. For like, helping me out."

"No problem. I did say you can ask me for help whenever, right?"

"Right." Julian still finds it a bit hard to believe that someone like Aaron would be so willing to help out someone like him, but he's already proven himself when he drove Julian's drunk ass home despite them not knowing each other that well aside from texting.

"I hear you go to Holton University too?" Steven chimes in.

Julian presses his lips together. "Uh, yeah."

"Are you going to the party in a few days, then? At Richard Yen’s?" Steven asks.

Julian opens and closes his mouth, unsure how to respond. He can't really say he has schoolwork to catch up with when they're only weeks away from Christmas break, right? "I don't—I don't think I've heard about it. I'm probably not invited."

Steven laughs. "Dude, everyone's invited. It's like a yearly thing. Richard always throws those parties, it's always fun."

"He's in his first year, he wouldn't know that," Aaron tells Steven scoldingly. When he turns to Julian, he's smiling again. "It'll be fun. I've been to every single one of those since I was a freshman. It's not too crazy and rowdy. It's just chill."

For a moment, Julian thinks what it would be like if he showed up to a party like that. Would he blend in? Perhaps he'll find a way to embarrass himself during the first ten minutes of arriving. Or, Aaron would realize that literally no one from that party recognizes Julian and that Julian's been pretending to be a Holton student all along.

The distress must show on his face, because Aaron says, "You don't have to, of course. You can always attend the ones in the future."

Julian feels his phone vibrating in his pocket and he just knows he's been gone for too long and Logan's getting pissed. "Um. I'll have to see—I'll let you know if I'm free."

"Sure," Aaron says cheerfully.

His phone vibrates again. He mumbles a "sorry" before pulling it out of his pocket. Logan has a few missed calls and texts asking him where he is and why he's taking so long.

"I kind of have to get going," Julian says apologetically. 

"That's fine. Text me, alright? I'd love to see you at the party," Aaron says.

"I will." Julian starts pushing his cart forward. He hopes the lines aren't too long at the cashier. "Bye, Aaron. Nice meeting you, Steven."

Aaron and Steven say goodbye while Julian gives them a small wave. Later, when he's walking back to the apartment carrying several plastic bags, he wonders if, in an alternate universe, he would've said yes to that invitation without a second thought.

 ☾

It's a different level of cruelty to know your abuser's body so well. Julian can tell whether Logan is about to come just from the hitches in his breath, the slight change in his movements, or even the way he stares down at Julian with sweat dripping from his eyebrow. Julian knows how to make him feel good, how Logan likes him to react to his touches, and how to thoroughly knock him out after sex.

Tonight, Julian takes advantage of his knowledge.

Logan grips his hair roughly as he pounds into him, pulling Julian's head back so he can suck bruises onto Julian's neck. Julian wraps his legs around his hips and whimpers, keeping his hands placed above his head on the mattress.

Logan's drunk on the beer Julian bought him, his breath smelling strongly of alcohol as he pants into his neck and then against his lips. Julian lets himself go pliant and docile as Logan fucks his mouth with his tongue, his beard scratching along the skin around Julian's lips.

"You gonna come?" Logan says with a groan, his movement growing faster and more desperate after every thrust.

"Mhm, yes." 

"Fucking slut. You're filthy, you know that?" Logan grips his hair tighter and pulls at it harshly.

Julian hisses and turns it into a moan.

"Say it," Logan says roughly, pushing Julian higher toward the headboard as he makes a particularly hard thrust, making Julian gasp. "Say it!"

"I'm—I'm a slut," Julian pants, as he shifts his hips back to meet Logan's thrusts.

"You fucking proud of that?" Logan slaps his face, not too hard, but Julian knows it'll leave a red mark on his skin.

Julian doesn't have to answer because it doesn't take long until Logan's going still above him, a shudder running through him as he climaxes. Julian whimpers when Logan roughly jacks him off, and then he's also coming and spilling onto both of their stomachs.

Julian's chest is heaving when Logan gets off him to go to the bathroom. Julian's not sure whether he's going to tell Julian to sleep in the other room or if Logan wants him in his bed tonight, so he lies there for a second, catching his breath. When Logan returns, he cleans Julian up with a wet towel and takes Julian by surprise when he drops a soft kiss onto his lips.

"Sleep," Logan commands, lying down behind Julian and draping an arm over his waist.

"Okay," Julian says quietly. He can feel Logan's breath against the back of his neck, as well as the rise and fall of his chest. In about ten minutes, his breathing slows down, and then he's snoring quietly.

"Logan?" Julian tries. When he doesn't react, Julian moves around a bit, but Logan doesn't stir. Still, Julian lets him fall deeper into sleep for about half an hour. He hopes he'll stay sleeping like a log for longer.

From where he's lying down, Julian can see Logan's bedside table. There's a drawer with a lock on it; Julian watched Logan shove the key into the pocket of his jeans earlier before they fell into bed. Julian's seen him put his important belongings there all the time. Moving his head to the side, Julian spots Logan's jeans on the floor by the foot of the bed.

Taking a deep breath, Julian gingerly lifts Logan's arm off his waist and sets it on the mattress. Once he's sure Logan is still asleep, he rolls off the bed and winces at the springs groaning under his movement. His feet hit the cold wooden floor as he sits, and then he stands up carefully with his heart hammering against his chest.

He kneels on the floor and finds the keys in the pocket, just as he knew it would be. Julian crawls toward the bedside table, throwing nervous glances to his side where Logan's facing him. If he suddenly wakes up, he'll immediately see Julian trying to open his drawer and—God, thinking of the possible consequences won’t help right now. He pushes those thoughts aside and, with slightly trembling fingers, manages to unlock the drawer.

Julian freezes when Logan shifts on the bed, stretching his right arm over his head. Julian's almost afraid to look at his face in case he finds Logan's livid eyes staring right back at him, but when he does look at him, he's still deep in his slumber.

Blowing out a quiet breath, Julian pulls the drawer open. There's a pistol, a wallet, a phone, and several envelopes. Julian struggles to breathe as he looks through the envelopes, eyes scanning the names written and—there. 

Having Emily's letter in his hands once again makes both fear and relief clash within him. His hands are trembling so badly that he takes much longer than necessary to unfold the letter. He scans the paper until his eyes reach the bottom of the page where Emily's number and email are written down.

He reads it several times and recites it in his head, hoping that his memory won't let him down this one time. Suddenly,  Logan mumbles something into his pillow and Julian's heart nearly leaps out of his chest. Out of panic, he returns the letter in its envelope and back into the drawer, pushing it closed a bit too noisily and locking it with the key. He glances at Logan and allows himself to breathe when he finds that Logan still hasn't woken up yet.

After slipping the key back into the pocket of Logan's jeans on the floor, Julian crawls back into bed, his mind whirring as he closes his eyes and recites Emily's contact information in his head, repeating it like a mantra. Like a prayer, more like, because this is the closest thing to a miracle he's experienced in a while.

Chapter Text

Emily liked to pretend she was a superhero when she was younger. She'd grab a blanket and drape it over her shoulders, dashing through the living room as the make-believe cape trailed after her, flailing in the air. Whenever she asked Julian to play with her, Julian would excitedly say yes—always up for whatever his big sister wanted.

More often than not, Julian played the victim. He'd cry out for help until Emily came dashing into the room in her superhero costume (a ratty blanket, Mom's shades, her too-big boots), and let Emily save him from the evil villain or the thief who stole his lollipop. Emily had this certain pose she'd always do—her back straight, one hand on her hip and the other curled into a fist towards the sky—and Julian would cheer whenever she made that pose because he knew it meant she was there to save the day.

Even as they grew older, Emily was always the hero between the two of them. She gave up school to work early when Mom and Dad's business went bankrupt because Dad had been stealing money from the company for his gambling. She paid attention to Julian when everyone else was too busy with their own problems to notice that he'd gotten too thin or that he had a scar on his knee. She'd take Julian to the arcade and let him have an hour or two of complete bliss and happiness before it was time to go home again.

He loved her, loves her still to this very second. While there was a time when he felt betrayed by her leaving him behind to start a life of her own with her baby and boyfriend, Julian still looked up to her and valued their every second together.

She's his hero. During the first few months when Logan took Julian, he'd daydream about how Emily would swoop in and save him from all the bad men. And she did—she sent out a letter, looking for him and Mom even though she could've easily carried on with her life without them.

As much as Julian wants to get out of this life, he also knows that he would much rather spend the rest of his life where he is now than for Emily to experience the same thing. Julian owes her for everything she did for him, and this time around, it's Julian's turn to play the hero.

It's a chilly evening and not even the jacket he's wearing can keep his teeth from chattering. He has a beanie on his head and cotton gloves on his hands, yet his entire body still shakes as he walks down the sidewalk, the cold air nipping at his cheeks.

The holiday spirit is already in the air—several shops along the block already have their Christmas decorations up, while there's one blasting Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree through the speakers. Julian ducks his head to hide his face in his scarf and approaches a phone booth outside a gas station.

He drops a few coins into the machine before pressing the phone to his ear. The street is quite crowded, filled with kids and families out for dinner or early Christmas shopping. Julian knows it's impossible for Logan to be in this area, especially since he's away for a few days because of some business he has to deal with, but Julian's still paranoid. He has to blink a few times when he thinks he sees Logan or Ricky in the crowd, watching him with ugly sneers on their faces. 

Instead, he takes a few deep breaths, telling himself that he's safe and hidden as he dials the number he's been repeating in his head for hours on end, praying that he hasn’t somehow mixed up the numbers.

Julian holds his breath as the call goes through and listens to the monotonous ringing. Suddenly, it feels warm and humid in the phone booth. He scans the area one more time as though he's anticipating someone to emerge from the crowd and roughly drag him out of the booth so they can punish him for sneaking around like this, for breaking so many rules—

"Hello?"

Julian feels like the entire world comes to a halt right then. All he can hear is his own breathing and the phone's static. He grips his jacket as tears fill his eyes and blur his vision. 

He hasn't heard her voice in so long.

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

She sounds the same, if not a little cautious with her words. Julian can almost imagine the furrowed eyebrows she always wears whenever she concentrates hard. He wonders if she's at home right now—if she's with her kid. If they're safe.

"If you're one of those people who’s been prank-calling me, I swear to—"

"Em," he finally says, feeling breathless. "It's me."

There's a beat of silence, and then, "Julian?"

"Yes," Julian says with a laugh, wiping at his wet cheeks. "I missed you."

"Julian, what the fuck," she rushes out, sounding as overwhelmed as he feels, "I got your voicemail but you won't pick up when I tried calling you, why—"

"Forget the voicemail," Julian says firmly. "That wasn't me. I mean—I was forced to say that. Please, don't go to that address, it's dangerous and all I said there are lies."

"What? What do you mean you were forced?" Emily's voice takes on a sharp edge. "Julian, what's going on?"

The worry in her voice brings fresh tears to his eyes. "Just trust me, okay? It's not safe. Delete that voicemail and no matter what, don't come here."

"Julian—"

"Stop looking for me," Julian says, his throat tightening. "You have to stop looking for me. Promise me you'll—"

"You're scaring me, what the fuck is going on?" Emily sounds like she's on the verge of tears. "Who is forcing you to do stuff? What do you mean it's dangerous?"

"You don't deserve to get dragged into this," Julian whispers shakily. "I can handle myself, just promise me you'll stay out of this—"

"Tell me what the fuck is going on right now," Emily snaps, her voice suddenly sharp. "A few months ago I found out Dad's dead, having fucking blown his own head off, and then I couldn't get in touch with you or Mom for months—God, Julian, I was so fucking scared. I didn't know what was happening to my mother and my baby brother. You can't tell me to just stop looking for you, Julian, what the fuck?"

"I'm sorry," Julian cries and muffles the sound in the sleeve of his jacket. "They're going to take you too, I can't let them—"

"Who? I'll call the police—"

"Don't!" Julian trembles at the thought. "I've tried, okay? They have connections and they're going to hurt Mom or even you. Promise me you won't."

"I promised to come back for you," Emily says firmly, always so strong that Julian wishes she were here to hold him. "I fucked up a lot, okay? But whatever is happening to you, I can help. I was so focused on my own problems that I ended up delaying going back for you, and I regret that. I know now that I should have reached out sooner. I know that now. Finding out about Dad woke me up, alright? I miss you so fucking much and I want to be there for you. Just tell me who those people are and I'll get you out of there, okay? I'll get you home."

Julian cries even harder at the thought of going home. Even before everything, when he lived with Mom and Dad, he didn't feel like he was home. He's not even sure what home is anymore. He can't imagine a place where he doesn't fear for his own life every waking moment, or where he has someone to turn to who he can trust. It sounds like a fantasy.

"There's no saving me anymore," Julian whispers. 

"Please, Julian." Emily’s voice cracks. "Don't say that. I need you here. You still haven't met Rose." 

Julian's heart leaps. "That's—is that her name?"

"That's your niece, yes," Emily says. Her breath hitches, followed by a sniffle. "Please, Julian. Let us help you. I miss you so much and I'm so worried about you and Mom. Just tell me what's happening and we'll fix it, okay? Please ."

It's quite cruel how Emily brings up Rose to get through to him. Julian wants to smile and rip his hair out at the same time—he has a niece. Does she have Emily's eyes? Her smile? God. In another world, Julian would've already spoiled her. In another world he'd be with them for Christmas, getting warm by the fireplace while cookies baked in the oven, filling the house up with its sweet aroma. As it is, he's talking to his sister in a dirty phone booth for the first time in years, persuading her to carry on with her life without him.

"I'm sorry," Julian says eventually. He curls his hand into a fist. "Just don't come to the address, okay? Don't believe any other call or message pretending to be me. It's not safe. Stay where you are, okay? I love you so much. Tell Rose I love her, too."

"Julian—"

He hangs up before Emily can persuade him to do something he's not supposed to. The silence that takes over afterward is deafening. He tells himself that he did the right thing, that Emily will thank him for this when the time comes. He still cries, though—cries for every Christmas he's missed and will continue missing without a home, and he cries for himself, because someone has to.

When he steps out of the booth, he wipes his tears away and trudges into the cold once again. It's over. He did what he needed to do and now he must go back to his reality. 

He imagines what Rose must look like, how she sounds, and if she even knows that he exists. He feels as numb on the inside as he does on the outside from the cold. He wiggles his fingers and toes but doesn't feel a thing.

Julian doesn't complain, because not feeling a thing is always a form of mercy.

☾

When he makes it back to Logan's apartment, it's quiet and empty. Logan probably won't be back for a few days, so he has the place to himself for a while. He takes a warm shower and forces himself to eat something other than cereal, feeling floaty and barely present in his body as he sits at the kitchen island, wrapping his hands around a cup of coffee.

His phone buzzes, and when he checks, it's a message from Aaron. It's a picture of two shirts—the first one being a red and white striped T-shirt and the other one a long-sleeved plain black top.

Which one makes me look less like an oldie who's about to graduate and is therefore no longer fun and youthful?

Julian smiles absently as he sends back: I like the red one :)

Great choice. I was gonna go with that one, too. I hope you'll be at the party tonight to see how well I wear it :P

Julian completely forgot about the party. Oh, is that tonight?

Yeah, it starts at 9 but people come fashionably late, so I'll say around 10 or 10:30. Will you be there? 

Julian pinches his bottom lip. He looks around the empty apartment and takes note of the haziness in his head. He knows it won't last long and he'll start stressing and overthinking in the next few hours with nothing to keep him occupied, so he texts back: I'll come. I don't know where that is though.

How about I pick you up? I'll drive you back as well, if you want :)

Julian doesn't know what it means, but he already feels better just from the mere thought of Aaron caring enough to make sure he makes it home safely. He feels warmer, like a blanket has been draped over his shoulders.

Sure! See you.

Julian asks Aaron to pick him up at a nearby 7-Eleven store a few blocks away from Logan’s apartment. He puts on a pair of his most decent pair of jeans (this one only has three holes in it) and a lavender sweater which he hopes is enough to keep him warm.

He walks to the convenience store and gets there just as Aaron texts him that he's about five minutes away. Julian stands with his back against the store's window, arms wrapped around himself. Somewhere through the mess in his brain, he thinks about what Logan would do to him if he discovered what he's doing right now.

Aaron pulls up in front of him. Julian almost laughs—it's a too-familiar scenario of clients picking him up from the curb to fuck him in the backseat.

Julian rushes inside, greeting Aaron back when he says hello. Once he's in the passenger seat, he puts his hands in front of the heater, his teeth chattering uncontrollably.

"Shit, how long have you been standing there? You're freezing," Aaron says, turning the heat up.

Julian shrugs. "Not too long. I'm always cold, don't worry."

"That's not reassuring, to be honest."

Julian laughs. He hopes it doesn't sound forced. "I won't be cold once I have alcohol in my system."

Aaron gives him a pointed look. "Okay, but don't get too trashed, alright? I’m all about having fun, but we need to do things in moderation."

"Okay, Mom." Julian playfully rolls his eyes.

Aaron huffs out a laugh as he starts driving again. "Damn. You said this shirt makes me look young and cool, how come you're calling me Mom?"

Julian glances at his shirt. It does look good on him. It's tight in the right places, showing off his biceps and tattoos along the left side of his neck. Julian doesn't realize his staring until Aaron clears his throat and says, "Well?"

"I like it. You look great," Julian says thoughtfully. "I like your tattoos."

"Ah. See, I got them when I was like eighteen and I did it to look cool. I regretted my first one and cried over it for like, two days, but when I got over it, I decided that I actually really liked body art. I've gotten a bunch more since then. My mom hates me for it, but she barely has to see it anyway, so I don't think it matters."

Julian tries to make out the pattern through the dimness inside the car. It's a hand, Julian realizes. A skeleton hand peeking past the neckline of his T-shirt. There's also a deck of cards beside it. Julian's eyes travel down to his right arm, which also has a liberal amount of tattoos. He finds one that he likes the most near his elbow, peeking out from where his sleeves are folded—it's a small skull with flowers blooming around it. Julian traces the tattoo with his finger, leaning in closer to get a better look.

He doesn't realize what he's doing until he notices Aaron's sudden silence. When he looks up, Aaron's watching him with an unreadable expression. Julian pulls his hand back like he's been burned.

"Sorry," Julian mumbles. If he had the energy, he would feel mortified. But right now he just feels slightly annoyed at himself.

"It's alright," Aaron says, turning his gaze back to the road. "Your finger is just really cold. Got surprised a bit."

"It's 'cause I'm dead inside."

Aaron barks out a laugh. "Oh, aren't we all."

For the rest of the ride, they have an easy-flowing conversation. Julian's quite surprised that he's functioning well enough to manage that. Aaron's great, of course, always funny and genuine and nice. Julian doesn't feel like he deserves Aaron’s company at all, but he's selfish, so he'll take what he can get.

"Are you going home for the holidays?" Aaron asks when they're looking for a parking spot. Richard's party is inside one of those rich neighborhoods with strict security, so they have to park at a nearby mall and walk the rest of the way there.

"No." Julian fiddles with his fingers. He remembers the way Emily said "home" earlier. It makes his chest feel tight. "You?"

"I'm staying here, too. Me and some of my friends are planning to celebrate New Year's together, so might as well stay here until then, you know?" Aaron says, killing the engine. They get out of the car and Julian immediately shivers from the cold.

"Your family's fine with that?"

"Yeah. They're pretty chill. As long as I call them and keep them up to date with everything happening, they’ll understand. My mother always says that college is when you should be out there exploring and having fun and stuff, so if anything, she'll scold me if I don't do anything remotely adventurous."

They walk down the sidewalk, passing several groups of people their age who also seem to be going to Richard's. Aaron greets a few of them with a wave. Julian looks down and focuses on his beat-up shoes.

"How about you? I bet your parents are the proudest people out there," Aaron says.

Julian doesn't like this topic, but he's curious. "Why do you think that?"

"You just seem like the perfect child. Like, you get good grades, you're well-behaved and sweet, and you've got your shit together. I don't know. That's my impression of you."

It's so far off that Julian can't help but laugh. "Your impressions must be shit, then."

"Hey!" Aaron says in faux offense. "Are you telling me I'm wrong?"

"So wrong." Julian snickers.

"Maybe you're just humble, because I'm never wrong," Aaron tells him seriously. In response, Julian smiles ruefully and decides to let it go.

When they finally make it to Richard's house, the place is half-filled with people clustered in groups, talking and laughing amongst themselves. The house is huge, of course, with a spacious front lawn and a bright entryway. Once again, Aaron greets a few people as they make it to the living room and Julian feels like a bucket of cold water has been dumped over him because what the fuck is he doing here?

Aaron's going to hang out with his friends, of course, because he thinks Julian knows some people here as well when in reality, Julian's going to have to find a way to kill time and not make a fool out of himself until Aaron decides to drive him home. Fuck, what's Julian even going to do? Stand in the corner with a beer? Hide in the closet to avoid interrogation? Convince Aaron to let him tag along like a loser?

"C'mon, Julian, I'll introduce you to some friends," Aaron says with a smile, taking his arm and pulling him deeper into the house. 

He can hear a pop song playing in the background and people leaning on the wall with cans of beer or soda. Aaron was right—it's a chill, relaxed party where people just come to eat, drink, and socialize with people. It makes the knot in his stomach loosen.

"Look who's finally here!" comes a familiar voice. It's Steven, Julian remembers him from the grocery store. He's wearing a white shirt, gray joggers, and flip-flops. While everyone else beside him is clearly dressed up, Steven looks like he just got out of bed. It makes Julian smile a bit.

"Hey," Aaron greets them all, giving them quick hugs before returning to Julian's side and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Everyone, this is Julian. Julian, you've met Steven, then that's Clara, Edmund, and Richard. You also know Casey and Tommy."

Julian says hi, returning their enthusiastic smiles as best as he can. He feels a bit awkward as they include Julian in their small talk about school and the upcoming holidays, but Aaron's hand is a comforting weight on his shoulder. He can’t help but think that it’s like an anchor keeping him grounded.

"Here Julian, have a drink," says Richard, a tall guy with an athletic build. He walks up to Julian with a can of soda and a bottle of beer in each hand. He thanks him and chooses the beer. He realizes this is the person who threw the party, so he thanks him again, which earns him a smile. "No problem, man. Nice to see new faces here."

They stand in a broken circle for about fifteen minutes, jumping from topic to topic. After the initial awkwardness wears off, Julian finds that he doesn't mind these people. He feels calm and unbothered around them, especially with Casey and Tommy who he's known from the café for a while now. The couple has a world of their own, whispering into each other's ears and laughing at jokes only shared between them, but from time to time they break their bubble to talk to Julian and ask him about his plans for the following weeks. It makes Julian feel warm inside.

"I'm just gonna stay here. Probably spend Christmas and New Year's with my roommate," Julian says. Their circle has broken up a bit—Aaron leaning more toward Steven and the others while Casey, Tommy, and Julian have a conversation of their own.

"No fun plans?" Casey asks.

Julian traces the rim of his bottle, shrugging. "Dunno. I'll see, I guess."

"If you're free, come celebrate with us on the 28th. We're playing at a bar, it'll be fun," Tommy says.

"You're playing?"

"Yeah, as a band. I'm surprised Aaron hasn't told you about it yet. He loves our band to death and would brag about it to anyone with ears," Casey says, laughing when Aaron looks their way with narrowed eyes.

"I heard my name. Why are you so obsessed with me, Casey?" Aaron says airily before stepping closer to Julian and throwing an arm over his shoulders. Julian's surprised by the touch, but it's a welcome one, so he tries not to act too weird in case it makes Aaron pull his arm off.

Casey rolls her eyes. "I was telling Julian about the band, dimwit. How come you haven't told him about it yet?"

"I'm curious too," Tommy chimes in, his eyes glinting with mischief as he tacks on, "I thought you were showing off to our good friend Julian over here?"

Aaron lightly hits him upside the head. "Very funny. It never came up, so I forgot to mention it." He turns to Julian, smiling. "Now that you know I'm in a band, you'll never stop hearing me talk about it."

"What's your band called?" Julian asks. He remembers Aaron telling him about his love for playing music, so it definitely makes sense that he’s in a band.

"We're called Silent Riot, but it's a work in progress," Aaron tells him. "We've changed our names so many times I'm sure no one remembers who we really are."

Julian laughs along with the others. “What kind of music do you play?”

“Mostly rock and punk, but we also love a fun little pop song every once in a while.”

“You write the songs yourselves?”

“Yup! Lyrics, instrumentals—everything.” Aaron says proudly. Then, he wiggles his eyebrows. “Impressed yet?”

Julian rolls his eyes but can’t stop the smile from creeping onto his face. Teasingly, he says, “I don’t know yet. I’ll have to hear you guys first to see if you’re any good.”

"It's a date, then? You'll come watch us on the 28th?" Aaron’s eyes are suddenly bright and hopeful.

Maybe it's the easiness of being with Aaron and his friends, the comforting weight and warmth of Aaron's arm wrapped around his shoulders, or the alcohol in his system. Whatever it is, it makes him say yes.

"Aaron’s swooning," Tommy says with a teasing grin, which makes Casey hoot loudly. Aaron flips them off. They're giving Julian and Aaron this weird, almost conspiratorial look that he’s not sure he fully understands. He feels like he's definitely missing something here.

Two, three, four beers later, Julian's met about a third of the people in the house. They're all nice and funny, and so far, no one's commented on his ugly dirty shoes or called him out on the fact that they've never once seen him on campus. Though, to be fair, Holton University is quite big and has a lot of students—of course most of them would assume they just haven't seen Julian around because of their different schedules, plus the fact that they think Julian's a freshman. It calms something in him, so for the next few hours, he doesn't overthink much and just talks to people and laughs along when jokes are made. It's so easy that he could do this for the rest of his life.

Turns out, he doesn't even have to beg Aaron to keep him company, because he does it willingly. He sticks to Julian's side throughout the night, introducing him to person after person until Julian can't even remember their names anymore. He's always touching Julian in some way, be it a light hand on the shoulder, his waist, or the small of his back. Julian likes it—it doesn't feel like his clients' rough hands or Logan's commanding grasp. It's safe, comforting, and warm. He finds himself pushing back to meet his touch and moving closer to his side until Julian's practically glued to him throughout the night.

☾

Julian wouldn't say he's drunk—maybe a few sips past tipsy—but Aaron disagrees. When Julian goes to take another beer from the cooler, Aaron gently grabs his wrist with a stern look. 

"I think you've had quite enough," he says. It doesn't sound patronizing or rude. He just sounds genuinely concerned. Like a mother hen.

"Did you just refer to me as a mother hen?" Aaron says, letting out a surprised laugh. Oops. Julian said that out loud, apparently. Maybe he really is quite drunk if he's unaware of the words slipping past his lips.

"It's a compliment," Julian says, raising his chin defiantly. "I generally like mothers. And hens."

That makes Aaron laugh again, his eyes crinkling at the corners and red lips stretching over his teeth. He’s always been so beautiful. "What a compliment. I’m blushing over here.”

Julian tries to sneak his hand into the cooler, but then Aaron catches him again, guffawing. Julian jokingly struggles against him and eventually ends up pressed to Aaron's firm chest. Julian's face is on his shoulder while their hands are trapped between them.

"Okay, how about we go sit outside for some fresh air? Hold on—" Aaron moves away but Julian likes the smell of his cologne and clings to him, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. He feels the vibration of Aaron's laugh against his cheek. "Julian, I'm trying to get you water."

"You’re so sweet," Julian says against his shirt.

Somehow, Aaron manages to get him outside. There's a bench on the porch, so Aaron guides him to sit there before joining him. Julian's thankful for the fresh air because it is getting a bit crowded inside. He accepts the bottle of water that Aaron hands him, chugging it down to clear his head.

When Julian finishes his water, he turns to find Aaron already looking at him. He’s wearing an expression that looks almost fond.

"Sorry, did you want some?" Julian asks, holding up the empty plastic bottle.

Aaron shakes his head, the smile never leaving his face. "I already drank some inside."

Julian sways a bit when he turns to fully face Aaron. "You know, you can go hang out with your friends inside if you want. I don't mind."

"I see them all the time already," Aaron says with a wave of his hand. "I want to hang out with you."

"Thank God for that because it would be so awkward if I stood around there since I don't know anyone."

"You don't know anyone?"

Fuck. "Um. You know what I mean—like, I hardly know anyone. I'm, like, a loner. Kinda. I don't make friends a lot." He's relieved when Aaron seems to buy it, but now Aaron's looking at him with a hint of pity and it sends Julian into a defensive mode. "Don't look at me like that. I like being alone. Some people just operate better alone."

"I know," Aaron says softly. Then, he smirks. "Is that your way of telling me you'd rather be alone right now?"

Julian considers it. Then, he shakes his head. "No. You're... cool. I like your company."

"Thanks, Julian," Aaron says with a light laugh. He's always laughing or smiling. Julian wonders what that's like.

"Do you like my company?" Julian challenges, leaning forward to look him in the eye. "No lie."

"I love your company. No lie," Aaron says easily. Then, quietly, he adds, "I kind of hoped it would be more obvious, honestly."

"Why?"

"Why do I love your company or why do I want it to be obvious?"

"Both. I mean—" Julian hiccups a bit, "like, you have a ton of friends. Cool, normal friends. I don't see why you’re even bothering with me."

For a moment Aaron just sits there, looking at him with an intensity that makes Julian’s face heat up a bit. Aaron swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. It’s quiet here, so Julian hears it when Aaron takes a deep breath, as though he’s steeling himself for something. 

"Well… I like you, Julian." 

The way Aaron says it makes it sound like it’s some big confession. Julian suddenly feels sober. 

"I've had a crush on you ever since I saw you at Caffeinated—before I was even a barista there. I always saw you in your little corner, either reading a book or writing in your notebook. I kind of wanted tonight to be a date of sorts, really."

Aaron looks nervous, his eyebrows furrowed and his gaze heavy. He’s fidgeting a bit, playing with the hem of his shirt. It takes Julian a few seconds to process everything he just heard, and when he can finally make sense of it, his heart drops to his stomach, hard. 

All he can think is, he should’ve known.

He should’ve known. Why would someone like Aaron even put effort into talking to him if it isn't because he wants to fuck Julian? Fucking hell. It all boils down to that, doesn't it? Always.

Julian doesn't say anything for a while. He rests his back on the bench and tries to work through the drunken haze of his mind. He's sad, that's one thing he's sure of. He wanted this thing, whatever the hell it even is, to last with Aaron. He wanted to go to that bar to watch their band play. He wanted to spend more lunch breaks with him at the café while listening to his carefully curated playlists. He wanted to know more about Aaron's tattoos, his family, his dreams in life.

"Oh," Julian says eventually. He tries not to let the disappointment show on his face. If Julian lets Aaron fuck him tonight, will he stop texting Julian? He kind of liked having constant random texts from him. Will Aaron ignore him at the café the next time he goes there?

"I didn't mean to put you on the spot," Aaron says after a while, sounding a bit breathless. "I just wanted to let you know. There's no pressure or anything, I just—"

"No, it's okay." Julian forces a smile. He doesn't know why he suddenly feels like crying, but his throat feels tight. "Um, I like you too. You're... you've been really nice to me."

Aaron huffs out a breath, his smile bittersweet. "I promise, you don't have to say that. I want to—"

"But I mean it." He doesn't. Well, he does like Aaron as a person and as a friend, but anything more than that? He hasn’t really thought about it. He doesn’t really think about those things. People like him aren’t supposed to. "You're—I like you too, Aaron. I mean it."

Even to his own ears, his voice sounds off. It sounds like he's begging. Frantic. Julian doesn't care if he comes off as desperate—he just doesn't want Aaron to stop talking to him. He's found an odd comfort in him, and Julian can't let that go. It's the first time he's felt remotely safe and comfortable with someone and he's not going to throw it away just because Aaron wants to have sex. So what? Julian does that every fucking day, why's this any different?

"Okay," Aaron says gently. His smile looks strained. "I hear you. How are you feeling? Do you want more water? Or do you want to go back to the car now?"

Translation: So, can we fuck now?  

Julian nods. "Okay. Let's go to your car."

Aaron’s quick on his feet when Julian rises. As they walk back to their parking spot, Julian ignores the heavy feeling in his gut. Aaron sets a hand on his waist to guide him since Julian apparently can't walk straight. Julian doesn't even think he drank that much.

On their way to the parking lot, Aaron tells him a bit about his family back home, and by the time they make it to the car, Julian already knows Aaron's younger sister is called Annie. 

They hop into the car and Julian steels himself, tells himself that this is no different than any other day, so why the fuck is he overreacting over sex? He's a whore for fuck’s sake.

Meanwhile, Aaron is still talking about his family's Christmas traditions. Julian takes a deep breath. He has a moment of doubt—should he not have sex with him right away in case Aaron ignores him afterward? He'll have to make it good, then, to make sure that Aaron will come back and keep talking to him. Right. Of course.

"...gingerbread cookies, you know?" Aaron is saying. He turns to look at Julian and Julian stomps on that voice in the back of his head telling him to get out of the car. Sure, he feels too out of it to have sex, but he'll just have to concentrate. He’s done it plenty of times before. 

He’s snapped out of his thoughts when Aaron looks at him with a soft smile, his face so open and kind that Julian wonders why he’s even upset about this. Aaron has been so good to him—the least Julian can do is give him what he wants. 

Aaron opens his mouth to say something, but then Julian leans forward and presses their lips together. It’s chaste at first because Aaron has gone still all of a sudden. Julian has to coax him into it, until Aaron's lips are slowly moving against his, albeit reluctantly.

Julian can feel that Aaron's not as into it as he should be, so Julian puts his palms on his chest and runs them down his torso. Julian moans quietly when Aaron starts to actually kiss back, throwing his body into the kiss as Aaron softly rests his hands on either side of his face. He's so careful and hesitant with his movements that it makes Julian a bit confused. Maybe he’s not doing this right?

Thankfully, it gets good a few minutes later. Julian can feel the heat of Aaron's body now, and can almost smell his arousal in the cramped car. Julian does that thing with his tongue that he's learned over the years which Aaron absolutely loves based on the deep groan that comes out of his mouth. Aaron's grip on him is more secure now, more urgent, as his fingers weave through Julian's curls, gently tightening around the strands. Julian takes it as his cue to hop onto his lap, resting his thighs on either side of Aaron's hips.

"Julian," Aaron grits out when they pull away for a bit.

Julian nods and grinds his ass down on Aaron's hardening cock, feeling it fill up even more beneath him—

"Wait, wait," Aaron says, alarmed. "Hold on—we shouldn't—"

"We can go back to your place if you want," Julian purrs into his ear. Hopefully, Aaron doesn't insist that they go to Julian's apartment because Logan will actually kill him if he ever brings someone there, especially someone who isn't even his client. 

"No, Julian—" Aaron pulls away, gently pushing at Julian's chest so they can look at each other. "I just—you're drunk. We shouldn't."

Julian's beyond confused. "But I thought you wanted to…"

"I think we had a bit of a misunderstanding," Aaron says. He's composed once again, as though he wasn't just about to nut a few seconds ago.

"I thought you wanted to. Here. In the car."

"Julian. There was no double meaning behind that, I really was asking you if you wanted to go back to the car so I could drive you home. I wasn't insinuating anything."

"Oh," Julian says. He looks down at Aaron's cock, still hard in his jeans. "Well. Let me finish you off, at least—"

"Julian," Aaron says breathlessly, grabbing his wrist when Julian goes to palm at his hard-on. "It's okay. Can you—can you go sit back on the seat, please?"

Julian swallows and tries not to kick anything as he gets off his lap and drops onto the passenger seat again. He feels like he's about to get scolded for something. He doesn't even know what he did wrong.

"Hey," Aaron says gently, taking his hand. Julian turns to face him with a frown. "I'm sorry if I came on too strong and it seemed like I wanted to take you to bed, like, immediately. That's—I didn't mean that. When I said I like you, I meant it. I want to take you out on dates and get to know you. That kind of stuff. Old fashioned, maybe, but that's what I was referring to. If you want to make out with me or even do other stuff with me, I'm totally cool with that too, but maybe not when you're so drunk you can barely walk."

Julian's a bit insulted by the tone Aaron's using—like Julian's a five-year-old who needs to be softly spoken to. 

"I don't…" Julian starts, frustrated. "I'm not a child. I can have sex, if that's what you're worried about. I'm nineteen."

"That's not what I'm saying," Aaron says, his voice so gentle and understanding that it pisses Julian off even more. "You're drunk."

"And?" Julian wants to pull his hair out. Maybe it's the panic running underneath his skin that's making him overly defensive. He's terrified that he's fucked this up or that he's done something to turn Aaron off and now Aaron's making all these stupid excuses. "I'm good, okay? Even when I'm drunk, I can make it good. It's fine—"

Aaron shakes his head again, looking at him in disbelief. "That's not what I'm saying at all. Jesus. What I'm saying is that I feel like I'm taking advantage of you if we're going to have sex while you're drunk. Plus, I'm not in a rush to get to that stage, either. I like you, and it's not just sex that I'm after. Especially since I can tell you're not fully comfortable, either. Again, it's not your fault—I just want to make you understand where I'm coming from."

Julian bites his lip. Right. Aaron's a good person—of course he's going to care about Julian being drunk. He feels guilty for even thinking that Aaron would be anything but a gentleman.

"I'm sorry," Julian says quietly, unable to look at him. 

"Hey, you don't need to apologize. I need to apologize because I gave off the wrong signal, alright? You did nothing wrong."

It doesn't feel like it, but Julian nods anyway. He fights the urge to say sorry again.

He feels a hand on his, and then, "We're good, right?"

Julian turns to him and Aaron's looking at him with equally worried and hopeful eyes. Julian manages a thin smile and nods.

Aaron sighs. "Good. I'm—I was scared I messed this up."

"Are you sure I didn't mess this up?"

"A hundred percent. I promise."

It's enough to quell Julian's worries for now. They sit in silence for a bit until Aaron turns on the radio and pulls out of the parking lot. Julian falls asleep at one point, and he wakes up to Aaron gently shaking his shoulder. "We're here."

Sure enough, they're in front of the 7-Eleven branch that Aaron picked him up at earlier. Julian wipes at the sleepiness from his eyes before turning to Aaron who's watching him with a soft look.

"Sorry about earlier, again."

"As I said, no need to apologize."

"Right." Julian doesn't know how to make a proper exit, so he blurts out, "You're still going to text me, right?"

"Of course I am," Aaron says as though it's the most obvious thing in the world. "I kind of need to discuss our date, so of course I'll text you."

“Our date?"

"Yeah. A proper, fancy dinner date. Or maybe a movie date, if that's what you'd prefer. Anything, really."

That’s when it sinks in for Julian then that this is actually a lot worse than Aaron ditching him after getting to fuck him. Aaron's actually interested in him. He wants to date him. It's so much worse that Julian wants to laugh.

"I don't—" Julian starts. He takes a moment to put his confusing swirl of thoughts and feelings into words. "Is it okay if I say I'm not really, like... looking for a relationship? I do like you, I like your company and you as a person. But I don't know. I'm not in the place to be someone's boyfriend." Probably not ever, goes unsaid.

Aaron doesn't look like he hates him, at least, so it makes Julian breathe easier. "Of course. As I said, no pressure. I want to get to know you and I want to hang out more, but that doesn't mean you're obligated to be my boyfriend. I'm not rushing either, I just want to go out with you and see where it goes. If it doesn't work out in the end, I promise you won't get rid of me so easily. I'll be more than happy to be your friend."

Julian finds himself nodding before he can process what all that entails. "Okay. Thank you."

"Come here," Aaron says before he pulls him into a hug. Julian lets out a small breath, burying his face in Aaron's shoulder. "I had fun tonight. I don't know if you could tell, but everyone who met you was completely enamored by you. I was a bit jealous, honestly, but I still count it as a win that it’s me who gets to drive you home and call you my friend while they can only admire you from a distance."

It's so unexpected and heartfelt that it brings fresh tears to Julian's eyes. "Shut up."

"I'm not lying," Aaron says with a laugh. "You're amazing, Julian. Everything about you… well, let’s just say I’m drawn to you in every way.”

When they pull apart, Aaron wipes a single stray tear on Julian's cheek. Julian wishes he could hold onto the warmth of Aaron’s fingers on his cheek forever. "I'll see you around?"

"You sure will," Aaron says, grinning. "Good night, Julian. Stay safe."

Julian gets out of the car and waves goodbye as Aaron drives away. 

When he goes to bed that night, he dreams of a world where this ends happily.

Chapter Text

Julian very rarely gets female clients, but when he does, he counts it as a win. Not because they're "gentler" by any means, but because they generally give better tips and make sure he's fed before they let him go. At least that’s the case for this particular female regular.

Stella is a thirty-something woman with dark skin and curly hair. When she schedules a meet-up with Julian, he goes to her cozy home near the train station which always smells of baked cookies. Oddly enough, the place reminds him of his grandma's house.

She doesn't have any dramatic backstory—she's not cheating on a spouse or hiring hookers to deal with their sexuality crises like most of Julian's male clients are—she's just a single mother who likes to have a bit of fun every now and then when her kids are away.

It's relatively easy and Julian likes the smell of her bed sheets. Stella has this motherly aura around her—which should be weird considering the nature of their relationship, but Julian likes how she makes him a cup of tea and offers him her very own baked goods before he leaves. Usually, Julian would decline and be on his way as soon as he put his clothes back on, but tonight, Julian's stomach grumbles slightly at the mention of food and his hands ache for the warmth of a tea cup.

"C'mon. It's cold out there," Stella tells him with a laugh when she hears his pitiful stomach. She leads him to the dining table and busies herself in the kitchen while Julian sits down and finds himself staring at the picture frames littered atop the festively decorated fireplace. Stella has two kids, apparently. They look only a few years younger than Julian, both of them possessing that youthful spark in their eyes that Julian lost way too early.

"That's Aimee and Adam. They're sweet kids, but they're always away. Aimee's a bit of a genius, so she's going to enroll at a university earlier than usual," Stella says, placing a steaming mug of tea and a plate of biscuits and toast in front of him.

"Thank you," Julian says quietly, immediately latching onto the warm tea and letting it soothe his throat. "They look just like you."

"Thankfully so. Their biological father is ugly inside and out, I wouldn't want them to take after him," Stella deadpans.

Julian chuckles. It should be weird, discussing his client's family, but frankly, Julian's had far weirder encounters. This one is as innocent as it gets.

"I may despise that man, but they're still my children's father, so I try to remind them to be nothing but respectful towards him," Stella says.

"Even if he doesn't deserve it?" 

Stella takes a sip from her cup, looking contemplative. "I guess so. Because of how 'blood is thicker than water' and all that."

Julian wonders if there's some kind of universal rule that compels all fathers to be absolute shitheads. Julian hasn't met many people who haven't called their own father every insult in the book.

The mere thought of his father almost ruins his appetite. He finishes his tea and eats about a third of the biscuits Stella gave him before standing up and telling her that he'd better be on his way. Stella walks him to the door and watches him step out onto the doorstep.

"Take care out there, sweetie," Stella tells him.

Julian manages a smile before walking away, stuffing his hands in his coat pocket and making his way to his next client for the night.

☾

When he finally makes it back to Logan's apartment with a wad of cash in his coat pocket, he immediately finds Logan on the living room couch watching TV. Julian places the pastries he bought from the bakery down the street on the kitchen counter. He’s wondering what kind of mood Logan is in when Logan's voice snaps him from his thoughts.

"Come here."

Julian removes his coat and sits down next to him. Logan looks at him impassively, and for a split second, Julian's sure that he's been found out. Perhaps Logan got word that Julian called Emily. Perhaps Logan was awake after all when Julian was sneaking around and opening his drawer. Fuck, maybe Logan found out he went to a party with—

Logan holds out his hand, palm up. It takes Julian a few seconds to realize what that means, and when he does, he immediately pulls out his earnings for the night and hands them over. Logan counts the money and puts it in his pocket. Julian waits for a dismissal, but it doesn't come.

"We've hit a bit of a rough patch lately, but you've learned your lesson, right?" 

Julian nods immediately. "Yes. I'm—I'm sorry for being difficult before."

"You've been good. Right?"

"Yes."

"Julian," Logan says slowly, leaning back on the couch and resting his arms along the backrest. He looks at Julian calculatingly. "I've been forgiving and merciful towards you, have I not?"

"You have," Julian says breathlessly. He feels like crying all of a sudden, as if Logan is about to drop some big news that he's not ready for. "I owe you so much. If it weren't for you—I don't know where I'd be."

Logan pulls a cigarette from his pocket, sticks it between his lips, and lights it. He takes a deep inhale, then blows out the smoke. Julian watches as it swirls in the air.

"Good. My men at the Benson house aren't as kind as me. You do one wrong thing and it's over. Me, on the other hand, I give you chances. I give you time to prove yourself to me, to be honest with me. All of that in exchange for a comfortable home, food, and safety. Does that seem like a good deal to you, Julian?"

He nods nervously. "Yes, Logan."

"For a whore, you're lucky. You could be in a much terrible place. Other pimps would be shooting heroin up your arm every day to keep you dependent on them. Your clients will fuck you like a ragdoll while you're high. That's your cycle, again and again until you die from overdosing or starvation—whichever comes first."

Julian's throat is tight. He knows he's lucky, he knows how it is in the whorehouse—locked up in a single room, lying in bed day and night, just waiting for it all to end. "I know. I'm so thankful for everything you've done for me."

Logan looks him straight in the eyes, the lines of his face as harsh as ever. He leans forward with his elbows on his knees while Julian shrinks in on himself. "Are you? I don't feel like it."

"I am," Julian insists, reaching out with a shaky hand to rest on Logan's knee. Moments like these are more common than one would think. Logan gets like this sometimes—he'd remind Julian of their roles and guilt him for seeming ungrateful. If Julian plays along, does the right things, and says the right words, he doesn't have to worry about anything.

"Show me," Logan says gruffly, already palming his cock. "Show me just how grateful you are."

Julian nods and falls to his knees on the floor between Logan's open thighs. He undoes the buttons of his jeans and pulls them down along with his boxers, revealing his half-hard dick. Logan groans and throws his head back when Julian wraps a hand around him and starts licking at the head.

"Yeah, like that," Logan pants, pulling roughly at Julian's hair. Julian takes him in his mouth, sucking at the head for a while until he can feel Logan getting impatient, and then he takes him in deeper, eyes watering when Logan hits the back of Julian's throat.

"Fuck." Logan holds his face and fucks into his mouth. Julian relaxes his throat as best as he can, eyes slipping shut as he concentrates hard on making this good for Logan. Julian crosses his hands behind his back the way he knows Logan likes, letting him use him as he desires.

Just when Julian feels like Logan's about to come, Logan pulls him off. Julian wetly pants for a few seconds until he realizes that Logan's manhandling him so that he's bent over the coffee table. Julian lies there with his cheek pressed against the cold wood while Logan pulls his pants off, his hands greedy and impatient.

Julian expects him to slide right in, but to his surprise, Logan fingers him slow and sure for what feels like hours. It comes to the point where Julian starts muffling his whimpers and unconsciously pressing his ass back to meet his fingers because it just feels good. Sex has not been enjoyable to him for a long time, so during those rare times when he does feel pleasure, he can't find it in himself to feel guilty or disgusted over it. Maybe he will, later, when he's alone in the bathroom scrubbing off dried cum from his skin, but right now, Julian allows himself to moan and buck his hips desperately.

"You like that, huh?"

"Yes," Julian breathes out because he knows Logan loves it when he's responsive.

"I'm gonna fuck you now. You want that too, huh? Want me to fuck you till you come?" Logan says, his warm breath hitting the back of Julian's neck.

Julian bites his lip when Logan hits his spot with his fingers, eyes closing. "Yes. Mhm—please." 

Logan's hard length presses into him. Julian expects hard thrusts, but once again, Logan changes it up and fucks him deep and slow. He rolls his hips into him, their hot skin meeting as Logan grips his hips harshly. Julian arches his back and lets out a broken moan when Logan hits his prostate just right, his hands scrambling across the table to grip the edges.

"That feel good?" Logan pants behind him, pressing kisses along his back. "You like that?"

"Feels good." Julian’s mind feels like it's made of mush. Even through the haze of his brain, he realizes that Logan never once asked him how he felt during sex until now.

"Good. Do you like it like this? Or hard and rough?"

Julian can barely think as Logan pounds into him, so he just blurts out, "Whatever—mhmm—whatever you like."

"But I'm asking you." Logan makes a point of thrusting hard, making Julian gasp as he slides up the table.

"Uh—slow, I think. Slow," Julian breathes out.

Logan fucks him slow and nice. It doesn't feel like Logan's just chasing his own climax. As ridiculous as it may sound, it feels like he wants to make it good for Julian. Julian doesn't know what that means, but he feels good right now, and when he comes he almost cries.

"Shh, that's it, you were so good," Logan tells him. He picks Julian up from where he's sprawled on the coffee table and sets him down on the couch on his back. Then, he leans in to lick into Julian's mouth. Julian's head is a bit cloudy so he kisses back as best as he can and tries to meet Logan's enthusiasm. Eventually, the kiss slows down and Logan sucks on his bottom lip. It reminds Julian of first kisses, for some reason.

"Good boy," Logan says, kissing him again. Julian is aware that Logan has a soft side—he's seen glimpses of it a couple of times, but never as full-fledged as this. Even the way Logan holds his face and massages soothing circles into his hip feels different, somehow. It's soft and careful. Julian falls asleep on the couch with Logan still pressing kisses to his skin and whispering soft things into his ear. Julian doesn't know what this all means, but he knows it won't last for long.

However, the mystery continues when Logan takes him to the mall a few days later.

Julian was planning to go to Caffeinated. He already sent Aaron a few texts saying he'll stop by to join him during his lunch break, but then Logan tells him to get dressed and meet him in the car. Logan's warm and smiley on the drive, keeping a hand on Julian's thigh throughout the ride. When they arrive at the mall, Logan buys him new clothes and shoes. Julian's so taken aback that he can only nod along to the clothes Logan picks out for him. They end up with four bags of brand-new clothes and shoes by the end of the day. 

Then, Logan takes him to eat at one of the burger houses in the area, and when they walk to the car toward the latter half of the day, Logan takes his hand and intertwines their fingers. Even while he drives, Logan keeps their hands connected. That night, Logan kisses him so tenderly that Julian feels something coil up inside him. At first, he’s not sure what to name it, but he knows it's definitely not the fluttering warmth and butterflies someone should feel when they're being kissed like this. 

Instead, he realizes he's gripped by fear and dread, because the tighter Logan holds him, the slimmer the chance he'll ever be free.

☾

On Christmas day, Julian wakes up to an empty bed. It's eerily quiet inside the apartment as Julian walks out of the bedroom and makes himself breakfast. He has a long day ahead of him, because contrary to popular belief, not everyone spends Christmas with their families. Julian still has clients expecting him at their doorstep. He takes a hot shower and wears one of the new jeans Logan got him—it's dark and slim-fitting around his thighs and ass, accentuating his subtle curves. He picks a cream-colored shirt and leaves the few buttons open, then stands in front of the mirror to fix his hair.

He starts when his phone rings. Instinctively, he runs to get it and answers the call. "Hello?"

"Hey, Julian." It's Aaron. "Merry Christmas!"

Julian smiles to himself. "Merry Christmas, Aaron."

"You got plans today?"

Does getting fucked under a Christmas tree by a client count? "Hmm, just a few last-minute errands to run. Nothing major."

"Well, in case you have some extra time, feel free to visit us at the café. You can get a discount because it's the holidays," Aaron says. "And maybe because I tend to give away free cupcakes to people. Especially if they're cute."

Julian can almost imagine the exaggerated wink that would accompany that statement. It makes him laugh. "Well, that I can’t miss.”

"You sure as hell can't!" Then, in a softer tone, he says, "Plus, I kind of wanted to give you something."

Julian goes still as he goes to reach for his boots. "Oh?"

"Yeah." He sounds shy. "It's not anything grand—I just like to give gifts during holidays."

"And you got one for me?"

Aaron scoffs. "Of course, silly. Why wouldn't I?"

Because we just met. Because I'm tricking you. Because I'm a dirty, worthless rent boy.

"Um—" Julian's throat feels tight all of a sudden. "That's very sweet of you. Thank you."

"Don't mention it," Aaron says easily. "And don't act so surprised. I told you that I was going to woo you, didn't I?"

Julian laughs. For a moment he forgets who he is and allows the warmth to spread through him, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks. "I've got a bad memory. Sorry."

"You're pretty, that immediately makes up for it."

Julian lets out another unexpected laugh. This time, he slaps his palm on his mouth and looks around as though Logan will emerge from the shadows with a disapproving frown. Instead, he's met with silence, so he lets out a breath. "I'm blushing over here. Take it easy on the compliments, will you?"

"I've got no filter, so you're gonna have to deal with it," Aaron says, clearly pleased with himself.

Later, Julian will wonder what the hell he's doing and where this will all lead him. He'll want to slap himself for how irresponsible and reckless he's acting. But for now, he clutches the phone tighter in his hand and smiles wide, embracing the giddy feeling in his stomach. "I guess I'll have to."

He thinks about it throughout the rest of the day, like a dog anticipating its reward. He floats, like he usually does, and gets through the rough hands and liquor-stained breaths by detaching himself from the physicality of it all. He merely watches from a distance, like a ghost hovering in the air.

Julian isn't thinking when he goes straight to the café after his last client shoves money into his shaky hands and practically throws him out of the house. He's cold and hungry, and the Christmas songs playing through the shops’ speakers remind him of the old CD Emily used to play. It was the one that had all the holiday songs in it. Mom would be cooking in the kitchen while Dad smoked on the patio. He can still smell their old home, like a stranger's perfume that clung to his clothes when they accidentally brushed arms once in the street. It makes tears burn in the corners of his eyes.

He doesn't realize the time until he arrives at the café and it's practically empty, save for that one old couple in the farthest corner. The sky is still dark, Julian notes, so it shouldn't be that late. But even then, he can already see the beginnings of a lighter tint of blue overhead—a sign that the early morning sky is only moments away from taking over.

When he walks to the counter, a different barista greets him. Julian blinks, then asks, "Um, what time is it?"

"Around 3 AM. Don't worry, we're open 24 hours," the girl tells him.

Julian sighs. Aaron probably went home already. "Thanks. Can I get one black coffee, please?"

Once his order is ready, Julian takes a seat at one of the tables and sips his drink. He hopes the hot coffee will burn his tongue and wake him up a bit, but the slight jolt of energy he feels only lasts for a while before he goes numb again. Julian's just thinking about texting an apology to Aaron when he hears the sound of the chair across him scraping the floor. He looks up and finds Aaron grinning at him.

"I was thinking you didn't want my gift after all," Aaron says teasingly. He's out of his barista uniform and is simply wearing a plain shirt and washed jeans. 

"Sorry, I didn't realize how late it was. I thought you would have gone home by now," Julian says quietly.

"I stay here a lot. There's a storage room upstairs and Tommy turned it into a sort of bedroom-slash-living-room place? There's also a bathroom and everything."

"And you... waited for me? There?" 

"Of course. Here," Aaron says, pulling something out of his pocket. It's a box wrapped in a Christmas wrapper and a ribbon. Aaron looks a bit nervous as he sets it down on the table. "Merry Christmas!"

Julian can't help the giddy laugh that escapes his lips. Seeing Aaron's smiling face and his stupid present is enough to bring happy tears to his eyes. He hides it when he ducks his head and starts unwrapping the gift.

"It's not much," Aaron says as Julian tears the wrapper. "I mean, it's just something I saw while I was shopping, and I don't know, I thought you'd like it."

Julian finally opens the box. He gasps ever so slightly, just the smallest hitch of breath. He takes the cassette player in his hands, turning it around and inspecting it up close. It's a cute size, just about the size of his palm.

"It's portable. You can play music out loud and also use earbuds if you'd prefer," Aaron says. "Check the box again, there's more."

Julian's eyes snap up to him in surprise before looking back into the box and sure enough—there are cassette tapes inside. Julian's vaguely familiar with a few of them, most of them from that time Aaron let him listen to his playlist on his phone. Some are recent, some are old—Julian glimpses Fleetwood Mac, Pink Floyd, and Queen cassette tapes among them and he almost cries right there on the spot.

His parents loved music. Julian remembers waking up in the morning to the aroma of bacon and coffee. He'd crawl out of bed and pad to the living room where Dad was crouched in front of the CD player, adjusting the volume of some Bryan Adams song and the like. Julian had the words memorized then—even now, though he barely even listened to music anymore. Mom and Dad always loved it when he sang along with the songs. Emily always butt in and tried to steal the spotlight, and when she succeeded in doing so, Julian would be in a sulk during breakfast. It was all so simple back then—it scares Julian how much he'd give to get it back.

"This is—" Julian starts, slightly choked up. He laughs it off and gives Aaron the biggest smile he can muster. "I love it. This is so thoughtful—thank you."

Aaron's shoulders relax. "You're welcome. I'm right again, aren't I? I knew you'd like it."

"Yeah," Julian says with a laugh, hastily wiping at his eyes where tears are starting to build. "Fuck, I'm sorry. I'm not dramatic, I promise. It's just—I love it. I love it a lot."

"Hey," Aaron says softly, his hands closing around Julian's wrists and pulling them away from his face. "Don't apologize. I'm happy you liked it. And no, you're not being dramatic."

Suddenly, Julian gasps. "Wait—fuck, I didn't get you anything. I was supposed to buy something on my way here but I forgot and—"

"Julian, it's okay." Aaron laughs. "I didn't get you a gift because I was hoping for something in return. I just wanted to. We're good, alright? I don't care for gifts."

Julian knows he's genuine; he can see it in his face and hear it in his voice. But still, anxiety claws at his chest. What if this is starting to annoy Aaron? What if he's just saying that because he’s trying to be kind? Maybe he's going to get sick of Julian and he won't have an escape anymore. Julian doesn’t realize just how much he values Aaron's time and company until he thinks about Aaron possibly never talking to him again.

Julian bites back the urge to offer something sexual as a gift, which is the first thing that comes to his mind. He knows now that Aaron doesn't want that, he's made it clear that night when Julian jumped him in his own car. So, Julian takes a deep breath and smiles apologetically. "I'll get you something next time, promise."

"No pressure," Aaron says, squeezing his hand. "As a matter of fact, I have an idea."

"I'm listening."

"How about you come out for a movie date with me? You being there will be the best Christmas gift, and you don't even have to worry about fancy wrappers and ribbons."

Julian laughs, feeling a blush make its way up his cheeks. When Aaron continues to watch him with an open, expectant look, Julian stumbles over his words, "Oh—um. Oh. You're serious?"

"Very much so," Aaron says with a lopsided smile. "I meant what I told you when I drove you back after Richard's party. I really do want to get to know you, whether we end up as friends or more. Is that okay, Julian?"

This is where Julian should put an end to this little charade. He should tell Aaron he's not interested and never speak to him again. If Aaron finds out Julian's been lying to him all this time, he won't think twice before dropping him for good. More than anything, Julian dreads knowing what it feels like to have Aaron's look of disgust aimed at him.

He knows Aaron has a thing for the cute, straight-A's student version of Julian who goes to Holton University and takes up Journalism. The Julian Aaron knows is a normal nineteen-year-old who's got his shit figured out and has a future for himself, not the Julian who bends over for men thrice his age for the crumpled cash in their grubby hands. Not the Julian whose life is so fucked that he pretends to be someone he's not just to feel something other than dread and misery.

Saying no and walking out of here once and for all is the right thing to do, no matter where he looks at it from.

But then Julian looks down at the cassette tapes scattered on the table, at Aaron's hopeful, genuine smile, at his warm, big hand covering Julian's. All of these things make him feel cared for; it’s something he hasn't felt in a long time. Julian wants to say yes. He wants to spend time with this man, wants to watch his stupid band play at a bar in a few days, and wants to listen to music sharing a single pair of earbuds. He shouldn't, but Julian wants to.

So, he says yes. Aaron's blinding smile makes him feel like it will be worth it after all.

Chapter Text

Julian's been to exactly three dates in the past. 

He was twelve when he asked a pretty girl named Samantha out to the movies. They ate popcorn and cotton candy. Julian doesn't remember the movie they watched, but he remembers her perfume being too sweet for his liking. The next one was when he was fourteen—he went out to play at the arcade with a friend called Gian. It wasn't technically a date now that he thinks about it, but that was the night he had his first kiss. It was also the night he discovered that he liked boys. The third one was when he was sixteen—a few weeks before he was taken by Logan and his men. Julian doesn't remember the date at all, but he does remember the feeling of regret deep in his stomach in the weeks that followed. In retrospect, he should’ve made the most out of that date night because everything else that followed was literal hell.

Now, at nineteen, Julian lets out a sigh of relief when he wakes up and Logan still hasn't returned to the apartment. 

Yesterday, Julian worked his ass off to make more money than usual so today he'd be free by the time Aaron picks him up. His hard work paid off, because now he only needs to meet a couple of regular clients and probably give a few handjobs or blowjobs behind clubs to reach his quota. 

So, Julian gets up early and lets random men fuck him just so he can go back to his pimp's apartment and get dressed for his date with a college student. Absolutely ludicrous.

It's 6 PM and Aaron's supposed to pick him up at 7-Eleven down the block in a few minutes. Julian spent way too much time showering—he scrubbed his skin so hard to the point that it had become red and raw. He can only hope that it goes away in a bit. Aaron didn't tell him where they'll be going, so Julian opts to wear something neutral—dark fitted slacks, black sneakers, and a light silk button-up with small detailed embroideries. He ignores the fact that Logan bought him these clothes not even a week ago. 

Julian walks out into the night, his cheeks stinging from the cold. When he gets to the convenience store, Aaron's car is already parked at the side. Julian picks up his speed, and the moment he catches Aaron's winning smile through the car window, he trips over his own feet and nearly face-plants on the ground. 

"Shut up," Julian mumbles, barely holding in a smile of his own when he gets into the passenger seat. Aaron's laughter is loud inside the car.

"Good evening to you too, lovely," Aaron says, grinning. His eyes look like they're sparkling in the dark, and the way he's looking at Julian makes him squirm in his seat.

"Right. Sorry. Good evening.”

"You look beautiful," Aaron tells him softly. Aaron looks beautiful too—he's wearing a blue button-up shirt and jeans, and he obviously put a lot of effort into his hair, making it look like each strand was carefully gelled in place. Julian can smell his cologne—it's the same cologne from that night they went to Richard's party, and Julian feels oddly comforted by that.

"You too," Julian says, flashing him a dimpled smile.

Aaron chirps happily about his classes as he backs out of their spot and starts to drive. When he rests a hand on Julian's thigh, it feels so different from when Logan does it—it doesn't feel possessive or threatening. Instead, his hand is warm and comforting, keeping him grounded. It’s the only thing preventing him from floating away for good.

"Where are we going?" Julian asks curiously after a while. 

"It's a surprise," Aaron says, grinning. "You'll like it, I promise. I've never failed you with my supernatural ability to read people, have I?"

Julian bites back a bitter laugh. "Never."

"Then trust me. It'll be fun."

As it turns out, Aaron got them tickets to a drive-in theater. Julian doesn't even care what film they're going to be watching—he's too excited by simply being here because he's never been to one.

They find a spot a good distance away from the large screen before getting out of the car to buy food from the booths littered all over the area. As they walk, Aaron takes his hand and intertwines their fingers. Julian is certain his face is as red as a tomato, but he doesn’t care. He’s too busy smiling to care about anything at all.

They buy corn dogs, milkshakes, and fries before returning to Aaron's car and settling into the backseat so they're pressed together from shoulders to knees. Julian's stomach grumbles not even a minute later, making his face heat up while Aaron laughs fondly.

"Here babe, let's eat," Aaron says, handing him his food.

The movie starts playing a few minutes later—it's a rom-com and Julian finds that he doesn't mind it. Aaron wraps an arm around his shoulder and pulls him in even closer. After a split-second of hesitation, Julian rests his head on his shoulder and sighs contentedly.

"I didn't let myself watch rom-coms or chick flicks until I was, like, nineteen or something. I would always watch action or war movies because I thought it made me cool," Aaron says out of the blue.

"When did you discover your love for rom-coms, then?"

Aaron hesitates, and then says, "I'll be honest with you, I started watching them but I’m still not a big fan. I just thought that a rom-com movie would set the right vibe for a date, you know? So I have an excuse to throw an arm around you and cuddle."

Julian laughs, surprised. "Shouldn't you have chosen a horror movie, if that's the case?"

Aaron sighs. "Believe me, I tried. They're not showing any horror movies, so this was my second choice."

Julian hums thoughtfully. "I don't mind. I love these movies." 

Hearing himself say it is quite odd. He hasn't even let himself think of things as trivial as movies in such a long time that he's almost forgotten about them entirely. "We used to have this tradition every Christmas. We watched Home Alone every year. For some reason, it never got old."

"You rewatched it this Christmas too?"

Julian bites his lip. "No. I didn't go home to my family this year. Tradition broken, I guess?"

Aaron runs his hand up and down Julian's arm. "Tonight isn't too late, don't you think? We may not be watching Home Alone, but we're still watching a movie, so it must count for something, right?"

Julian huffs out a laugh. "Right."

Julian hasn't felt this content in a while. It's unlike anything he's ever experienced in the backseat of a car. Aaron's scent and warmth are comforting, not suffocating. He touches Julian like he matters and looks at him like he's actually human. At that moment, Julian shuts off the logical side of his brain telling him this won't last, that no matter how he twists this, the ending of whatever's going on between them will be the same—tragic. Because right now, none of that matters. Right now, he's content. Maybe even happy. Whatever it is, he wants to hold onto the feeling for as long as he can.

Something warm and unfamiliar ignites in his chest when Aaron starts playing with his hair. His touch is so gentle, so achingly soft that it leaves Julian breathless—unsure how to respond to a tenderness he’s never known.

As he locks eyes with Aaron's kind gaze, he decides to let himself have this. Just this once.

☾

Julian wakes to someone softly shaking his shoulder. Julian rubs his eyes with his curled hands and blinks, half-expecting to see Logan looming over him, which is why he flinches in surprise when it's Aaron he sees.

"Shit," Julian murmurs, looking around. They're still at the drive-in theater, but the large screen is now rolling credits and some cars have already left the lot. Julian's face burns with embarrassment as he looks back at Aaron.

He opens his mouth to apologize but Aaron cuts him off. "Before you apologize, let me just say that your snores are absolutely adorable."

Julian groans and covers his face with his hands. Aaron laughs and pulls him into a hug. "I'm just teasing, Jules. But I didn't lie."

He wants to laugh and cry at the same time, so he buries his face in Aaron's chest and sighs. "Fuck. I didn't mean to fall asleep—I'm so sorry."

"I don't mind, I promise. You didn't miss anything good—the movie's as cliche as they come."

Julian forces out a laugh as they pull apart. "I promise I'm usually better at dates than this. I just—I had to work overtime yesterday, so. Sorry."

It's not a lie, of course. But it makes Julian feel even worse, thinking about how he prepared for this night just to fuck it up by falling asleep. He's mortified, but at least Aaron seems to genuinely not mind, because he's still looking at Julian like he's the best person he's ever met.

"Understandable," Aaron says. Curiously, he adds, "Where do you work, by the way?"

There's a second of panic, and then Julian blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind. "A small bookshop. I help out with the boxes and deliveries and stuff."

"Hmm. Well, if you ever want a bit of a change of scenery, let me know because there might be an opening at Caffeinated. You don't have to work a minute past your shift. Plus, I'd love to have you around," Aaron says, tucking a loose curl behind his ear.

"I'll think about it. Thank you."

They spend the next hour or so talking and getting to know each other. Aaron takes them to a drive-through and buys another round of junk food for them while telling him about his high school "fame years," which was mostly because he played instruments. He tells Julian about how their band has been posting cover videos on YouTube for a while now to gain an audience. Julian asks to see some of the videos and Aaron lets him watch them on his phone. They sound amazing, and Julian tells him this again and again until Aaron's clearly flustered but pleased from the compliments.

"That's why you have to see us live on Saturday," Aaron says when they finish the fifth video—it's a cover of an old Paramore song.

Julian wants to. He wants to, so badly that it actually scares him. Still, he fights the urge to make a promise that he'll be there. "I'll have to see if I'm free. I just—there's some family stuff I've been a bit busy with lately. But I really do want to see you, I really do."

"Let me know, okay? I'll pick you up and it can be our date number two," Aaron says, flashing him a smile before looking back at the road.

Julian's heart jumps. "Yeah. Date number two."

He doesn't realize they're already at the convenience store a few blocks away from Logan's apartment until a few moments later. 

"I had fun," Aaron says.

Julian laughs. "I fell asleep while watching the movie."

"It was good for my ego because it made me think I'm a good cuddler," Aaron says without missing a beat.

"You are."

"See? I'm wooing you just fine."

Julian shakes his head at himself, smiling down at his lap. He thought he'd feel worse than he does now after falling asleep earlier and barely contributing to the conversation, but Aaron doesn't make him feel that way. Julian doesn't feel pressured to do anything or act a certain way—he just lets Julian be, as if that’s enough. It's crazy to think about and so unfamiliar but also so welcome. Julian hasn't let himself just be in so long. There are always things to worry about and overthink, but when he's with Aaron, he feels the closest to normal as possible.

"Thank you," Julian tells him with all the sincerity he can muster. "I know I don't say much and it might not seem like it, but I really appreciate you. Tonight was—" Julian hesitates for a bit, worried he's being too vulnerable, but one look at Aaron's open face makes him continue. "I've been having a rough time. And tonight you made me forget about it. I felt comfortable and... safe. And just—content. I haven't felt that in a while and I know this sounds like I'm talking nonsense but it's true. So—thank you. So much."

There's a bit of sympathy in Aaron's eyes, but mostly, he just looks happy. His eyes crinkle at the corners as he takes Julian's hand and kisses the back of his palm without breaking eye contact. It's a mere brush of lips against his skin, but it sets Julian's entire body on fire. He's never been touched like this before.

"Thank you for telling me that," Aaron says softly. "You make me really happy. Hanging out with you and just talking to you feels so natural, you know? It feels like I've known you my whole life."

It's a cheesy line, but it makes Julian tighten his hand in Aaron's hold. Julian can't explain it either, but being with Aaron just feels so easy and light. "Me too."

Julian's phone rings in his pocket and he flinches. He stutters out an apology to Aaron as he fumbles to get it out of his pocket. He catches the time on the screen—it's almost 2 AM—and picks up immediately, barely registering the fact that it's Logan calling him.

"Hello?"

"Where are you?" Logan's voice is gruff. Julian can almost imagine his annoyed face and it makes his heart beat faster.

"Um, still out," Julian says. He's aware of Aaron next to him who's obviously trying to give him some semblance of privacy by going on his phone as well. Still, Logan and Aaron overlapping makes Julian's head spin. 

There's a beat of silence, and then, "Get me a pack of beer and some snacks on your way back."

"Okay, yeah. I will."

Logan hangs up without another word. Julian lets out a small, shaky breath.

"Is everything alright?"

Julian startles at the sound of Aaron's voice. He laughs it off and says, "Sorry. Um, yeah. Just my roommate asking me to buy something."

Aaron's eyebrows are still furrowed and he looks worried as he takes Julian's hand again and—oh. Julian didn't realize he was shaking. 

"Don't know where that came from," Julian mumbles, looking down at his own hands. It's not a lie—he has had random moments of what feels like the beginning of panic attacks like this before. “It'll go away in a bit. Don't worry, it happens."

"You know you can tell me anything, right?" Aaron suddenly says, tightening his hand around Julian's. "I'm always open to listen."

Fuck. Is Julian being too weird? Is Aaron already suspecting something? Julian only manages a nod and avoids looking at him. Julian unbuckles his seatbelt and curses himself in his head when his hand still shakes as he opens the door.

Before getting out of the car, he turns to Aaron and forces a smile. He hopes he hasn't ruined the night entirely. "Thanks again. I'll, um, I'll text you and let you know about Saturday."

Aaron smiles easily. "I'll be waiting for your text, then."

Julian hesitates for a bit, and before it gets too awkward, he leans in and kisses Aaron on the lips. It's quick and sweet. When Julian pulls away, Aaron's eyes are wide with what looks like awe.

"I'll see you," Julian says again once he's outside the car. 

"Uh—bye! Um, have a good night," Aaron says, still looking dazed by the kiss, his smile bright enough to outshine the sun.

Julian closes the door and stands on the sidewalk, waving goodbye as Aaron drives away. Once he's sure Aaron can no longer see him, he starts walking toward the nearest liquor store to buy Logan what he needs. He doesn't realize that he has a small smile on his face until he passes his reflection along the way.

The smile remains as he thinks of the press of Aaron's lips against his. Deep inside, he feels a warmth he's never felt before.

☾

The following couple of days, Julian wakes up to good morning texts from Aaron which never fail to bring a smile to his face. He responds with an enthusiastic Good morning! and How are you today? before deleting the conversation entirely. 

This morning, Julian wakes up with Logan's arm draped over his waist, his breath hitting the back of Julian’s neck. He feels his phone vibrate with a text message from where it's sitting on the bedside table and Julian immediately knows it's Aaron.

Their band will be playing live at a bar tonight, and Julian knows how badly Aaron wants him to be there. Julian can only hope that Aaron knows how badly Julian wants to go too. Unfortunately, the reminder of his fucked-up life quite literally has a secure grasp on him right now as Logan tightens his arm around his waist. Julian doesn't want to make promises he can't keep.

When Julian arrived at the apartment after his date with Aaron, Logan was already waiting for him. Julian gave him the beer and snacks he bought before taking a warm shower. When he went to bed, Logan immediately followed and fucked him despite Julian's aching muscles and already sore body. It was nothing out of the ordinary, of course. But going out on a date with Aaron merely hours before and getting used to his soft words and touches just to be roughed up and marked by Logan makes something ugly twist in his stomach. Julian knows he's a whore—there's no denying that, but it still makes him feel even dirtier than before. Suddenly, hours of scrubbing and showering don't do the trick anymore, because perhaps the dirtiness is all the way inside him now, infused into his very bones.

Still, Julian craves that feeling of lightness and innocent giddiness from talking to Aaron, so as gently as he can, he removes Logan's arm from his body and takes his phone. He locks himself in the bathroom and opens Aaron's message.

Good morning, lovely boy ;) Tonight is the night! The band is excited and we have friends from Holton coming out to watch us as well. Let me know if you're free and I'll drive you there :D

It's only eight in the morning and Julian can feel Aaron's nervous excitement through the screen of his flip phone. Julian bites his nail and thinks about what he should say. The band won't play until later tonight, so Julian has time to meet his clients and find customers at clubs to meet his quota. But what about Logan? Julian's not sure if he's going to leave to run errands again or if Logan might be waiting for him in the early hours of the morning when Julian usually returns to the apartment. 

It's a risk. It always is, with Aaron. The mere fact that he's still texting Aaron when Julian promised himself that he won't let it last this long is the biggest risk he's taken ever since he tried going to the police for help roughly two years ago—one that he regrets ever doing up to this day. Alas, Julian's logic is practically nonexistent when it has anything to do with Aaron, because now that Julian got a taste of warmth and comfort and softness, he's not sure he's ready to ever let it go.

Morning! I think I can make it. I might have to leave early, though. I have work and I need to get some sleep :)

Julian will just have to make it work. If Aaron can't drive him back to Logan's before sunrise, Julian can just get a cab. He'll bring extra cash from his customer's tips and stuff it somewhere in his shoes so there’s absolutely no chance of Logan finding it.

Aaron replies: Sure thing! I'm really happy because all of this is just a ploy so I can seduce you with my drummer biceps.

Julian muffles a laugh in his palm, and then a new message appears—no, a picture. It's Aaron in a black tank top. He looks like he's just woken up, his hair a mess and his face half-buried in his pillow as he flashes a boyish, lopsided smile at the camera.

That's how happy I am!! Aaron sends after the photo.

Julian feels that giddiness in his stomach again as he types out, I'm very excited too. Can't wait :D :D

He jumps and nearly drops his phone when he hears a loud knock on the door. "What's taking you so long in there?" It's Logan, of course, his voice deep and gruff with sleep.

"Sorry, almost done," Julian rushes out, his heart still thumping against his chest. He puts his phone in his pocket and splashes water onto his face. He flushes the toilet for extra measure before opening the door. Julian looks down at his feet as he walks past Logan and toward the kitchen.

Julian feels his phone vibrate in his pocket, and Logan must've noticed too, because he narrows his eyes at Julian from where he's standing with half his body in the bathroom. "Why’s your phone going off?"

Throat suddenly dry, Julian feels his heart skip a beat and desperately hopes his face isn't giving him away. He sits down on the stool at the kitchen counter, feigning confusion as he reaches into his pocket for his phone. It's Aaron, obviously, but Julian doesn't get to read what he says because he immediately deletes it.

"Wrong number," Julian says with a small shrug. He hopes that Logan doesn't notice the slight tremor in his voice or his slightly trembling hand as he sets the phone down on the table.

When he looks back up, Logan looks annoyed but clearly doesn't think it's worth a fight when he just sighs and walks back into the bathroom. Once the door closes, Julian almost cries with relief.

This is the last time. He can't risk getting caught like this. He'll have to block Aaron's number eventually so he stops receiving texts from him. The thought itself is enough to make tears spring to Julian's eyes, but it's still so much better than Logan finding out about what he's been doing and finding out about Aaron specifically. Just the idea of it makes him feel sick to his stomach. He'll never forgive himself if he fucks up someone's life, especially Aaron, who is probably one of the very few decent human beings in this world.

So, he takes a deep breath and gets ready for the day. He repeats in his head that this is the last time he'll talk to Aaron. It leaves a heavy feeling in his chest, but he shoves all those aside as he sucks off strangers in the back alleys and bends over for cheating husbands, accepting money from sweaty hands as fast as he can just so he can see Aaron and enjoy his company one final time.

Just one last time.

☾

Julian reaches his quota just in time to prepare for Aaron who's about to pick him up. His head is spinning slightly from that douchebag who got a bit too rough with him and slammed his head into the car window while they were fucking. What an absolute dickhead. The guy made up for it by giving him a tip, so Julian decided not to make a fuss and just get over it.

It doesn't mean Julian isn't having a hard time seeing straight, though. He's walking down the sidewalk and he sees double the people he's walking past. Did he really hit his head that hard? Maybe it's from starvation, too, because he doesn't remember eating anything save for that single slice of bread before he left the apartment. Maybe he's a bit dehydrated as well.

Julian's carrying a small duffle bag with an extra change of clothes so he doesn't have to return to Logan's apartment. He doesn’t want to risk going back there if Logan is home, especially since he might find it odd that Julian’s returning to the apartment earlier than usual to change clothes. Julian wishes he could shower and scrub off the dried come he can feel between his thighs, but he has to make do with the leaky sink in a random store's public bathroom.

Julian locks himself in a bathroom stall and changes into a pair of dark jeans and a white, short-sleeved top. He stuffs his dirty clothes into his duffle bag and steps out to wash his face in the sink. While he's drying his hands with a tissue paper, he feels his phone ring with a call.

Without looking, he picks up. "Hey, sorry. Am I late? I’m inside, but I'm ready to go."

There's nothing but silence for a few seconds, so Julian has to pull his phone away to look at the caller ID. He suddenly feels lightheaded when he sees the name. Logan.

"Um—sorry, sorry," Julian stutters, pressing his phone to his ear again, "I thought you were one of my clients. He was going to pick me up. Sorry."

Logan's voice doesn't give anything away. "Didn't I tell you to give them my number? Why are you giving out your number to randoms?"

Julian swallows. "He's not a regular. I found him at a club and he said he wanted to meet me somewhere else because he has to go somewhere else first. I wasn't thinking—I shouldn't have given him my number. I'm—I'm sorry."

He hears Logan sigh tiredly. "You know better than this, Julian."

"I know," Julian says as he grips the phone tightly in his hand. "I know. I'm sorry."

"Ditch that guy," Logan tells him. "Block his number. Just find another customer."

"I will." Julian nods even though Logan can't see him. Only Julian can see his own face in the mirror—his eyes are wide and he’s pale with fear. "Thank you, Logan. I'm sorry."

"Good," Logan says firmly. "Anyway, I called to let you know that I won't be home for a bit. Something came up, but I expect you to meet your quotas as usual. And if you need help and can't reach me, call Ricky or the other boys. Got it?"

"Got it," Julian says.

Without another word, Logan hangs up. Julian lets out a shaky breath and leans against the sink, closing his eyes. Fuck. He can't keep messing up like this.

There's a split second where he considers sending Aaron a final text and telling him he can't make it tonight. It would be so much easier to just pretend like Aaron doesn't exist, but Julian can't find it in himself to do it. Instead, he shakes his head and tells himself once again that this is the last time. 

Julian finger-combs his hair as best as he can before leaving the bathroom. He stands outside, and before he can pull his phone out to ask Aaron where he is, a van covered with spray paint stops right in front of him. Julian is a millisecond away from sprinting in the opposite direction in panic when the door slides open, revealing several familiar faces.

"Hop in!" It's Casey, grinning from ear to ear. Beside her, Tommy waves at him, and then there's Steven and Aaron in the driver's and passenger seat.

"Oh, hi!" Julian’s relieved that he’s not about to get kidnapped after all. He starts walking toward the van when Steven hops off the passenger seat and grins at him.

"You get the prime seat, dude," Steven tells him with a wink before sitting down with Tommy and Casey in the back. Julian takes the passenger seat.

"Hi," Aaron immediately greets from beside him, his eyes sparkling. Julian closes the door and puts his seatbelt on.

"Hello." Julian’s a bit out of breath. There's a few seconds of silence as they just stare at each other (Julian's too busy admiring how Aaron's red tank top brings focus to his arm muscles and tattoos) when someone clears their throat from behind.

"We're glad you're gonna be watching us, Julian. Aaron won't shut up about it," Tommy says, followed by teasing laughter from the others.

"Oh, shut up," Aaron says without any heat. When he looks back at Julian, there's that familiar smile he seems to always have for Julian, and it makes Julian's insides twist. Not in a bad way—never. It feels the same way he felt when he had his first kiss with his friend when he was so much younger, or when his crush from high school complimented his outfit. 

It makes Julian feel so young.

"Thanks for letting me tag along," Julian tells them, throwing a dimpled smile over his shoulder. "I, um. I saw your YouTube covers. I think you're all amazing."

"Thank you, you're a sweetheart," Casey says, taking Julian slightly by surprise when she pecks his cheek. He doesn't mind, though. Surprisingly, it reminds him of how Emily would kiss his cheek when she thought he was asleep.

"We're ten times more amazing when we're live," Steven tells him proudly.

"You don't know Silent Riot until you see us live," Tommy adds.

The conversation carries on as Aaron starts driving again. Julian looks toward the back of the van and realizes that the band's instruments are there as well—the drumset, guitars and a bass, even a keyboard. When Julian mentions it, Casey goes into a detailed story of how there was a time when they didn’t even have their own instruments. They used to borrow and rent them until they found random gigs in bars across the city. It didn't pay as well as they'd like, but it meant they got discovered by people who really enjoyed their music. Generous fans gave them old instruments, and from there, it was easier to buy the other things they needed.

Julian loves it when people talk about things they're passionate about. He takes in Casey's bright smile, Steven's enthusiasm, Tommy's rare talkativeness, and Aaron's sparkling eyes. There was a time when Julian was this passionate about something, and looking at them now makes him feel like he’s staring at ghosts. It's a gloomy sentiment, but it still brings a smile to Julian's face, because at least these people aren't as miserable as he is, which Julian finds is a blessing in and of itself.

Casey, Tommy, and Steven are currently debating about the best toppings for pizza when Julian turns and finds Aaron already staring at him. They're stuck in traffic but no one seems to be worried, so Julian's quite relaxed as well. Aaron has one hand resting on the steering wheel while his other hand reaches out to touch the side of Julian's face. Julian belatedly notices the worried frown Aaron's wearing.

"What happened here? Does this hurt?" Aaron says, softly caressing the skin near his temple.

Julian frowns. "What?" 

"Here, you have a bruise. Did you hit your head?"

Right. Julian didn't think it would bruise, but it would've been so much better if he still put make-up on it just in case. He wants to tell Aaron something like "I'm a rent boy, it's a job hazard," but he bites the words back and settles for a shrug.

"I walked into a pole earlier," Julian says. He tacks on a sheepish smile.

That makes the sides of Aaron's lips twitch upward. "You walked into a pole?"

"I don't have a 20/20 vision. It happens."

"Neither do I, but I can differentiate a pole from an open space."

"I was distracted."

"Ah, busy texting?"

"I was texting you, so this is actually your fault," Julian says airily.

Aaron laughs loudly. "My apologies. I think you wear it well, though. You look like a badass."

"Thanks. It's the exact look I was going for." Julian can't stop smiling like an idiot. He's reminded again of why he just can't let this thing end. He can't imagine not looking forward to seeing Aaron after an entire day of being forced to see other men he couldn't give less of a fuck about. He can't imagine not waking up to Aaron's goofy good morning messages or going to bed without his good night texts. He can't imagine not catching a break from his life, can't imagine not having Aaron and his friends around to make it seem like it's better than it really is.

"Jokes aside, take care of yourself, alright? You don't deserve to have bruises on you," Aaron tells him seriously, taking his hand and squeezing.

Julian purses his lips. "I'm naturally clumsy. I can't promise you anything."

"That's fine. Give me a call and I'll hold your hand throughout the entire day to make sure you don't trip on your own feet."

Julian laughs. "I might consider that. I hope you're serious."

"I'm always serious when it comes to you, babe," Aaron says with a cheeky wink. Julian rolls his eyes fondly at him.

Throughout the rest of the ride, Julian lets himself have this. One last time. They'll have a fun night listening to music. Julian will allow himself to pretend like he belongs here, with these kind, amazing people. 

With the way Aaron's looking at him, a small part of him thinks maybe he really does belong, after all.

Chapter Text

Silent Riot’s set goes by in a flurry of guitar riffs, deep basslines, and loud cheers. Julian sits at one of the tables closest to the stage along with some of Aaron's other friends. The only person he vaguely recognizes is the pretty girl named Clara from the party they went to before, and several other familiar faces who go to Holton University. Luckily, Julian doesn’t have to socialize for long because once the band starts playing, all eyes are on them.

Casey is the lead singer, Tommy is on the bass guitar, Steven is the lead guitarist, and Aaron is the drummer. They sound amazing, of course they do, and Julian lets it be known as he cheers along with the others and claps enthusiastically after every song. They're set to perform four songs in total, and they're on their third song for the night.

Aaron finds his gaze through the crowd, giving him a smile or a wink as he sets the beat for every song. Julian has always known that Aaron is attractive, but tonight, he looks even more so. It's not just his defined biceps or the tattoos littered on his skin—it's the skill he has in playing the drums, the spirit and energy he has in performing in front of the crowd. Tonight, he specifically seems to be performing for Julian, and it makes his heart feel ten times larger.

Julian is reminded of the days when he used to sneak out in the middle of the night to enter bars and watch bands play at festivals. Tonight doesn't feel all that different aside from the fact that the band he's watching knows who he is and he's no longer using fake IDs to buy himself alcohol.

He's on his third or fourth bottle of beer, and he's feeling pleasantly buzzed. He's reached the point of becoming a bit unsteady on his feet, but otherwise, he isn't all that drunk. When the band's set finally comes to an end, Julian leaps up from his seat to hoot and cheer loudly.

Aaron, Tommy, Casey, and Steven all go straight to their table. They’re all winded, hair clinging to their sweat-damp skin, but wide smiles stretch across their faces. Julian's cheeks hurt from grinning, too. One of the guys at the table hands them drinks as the table fills with chatter. Aaron makes his way toward Julian, looking ten times even more attractive up close.

"You were amazing!" Julian tells him, stepping closer.

"So were you," Aaron says with a laugh, resting his hands on the dip of Julian's waist. He leans close to Julian's ear so they can hear each other over the noise. "I could hear your cheers from the stage!"

Julian smiles clumsily, feeling his cheeks heat up in embarrassment. "Good! I'm just getting you ready for the crowd of crazy fangirls you'll collect over the years."

Aaron grins brightly and says something in response. Julian frowns, unable to hear him over the new band that's now performing in front.

Biting his lip, Aaron leans in impossibly closer. His lips brush against Julian's earlobe. "Do you want to go outside?"

Julian feels a shudder run down his spine at the subtle contact and nods before Aaron’s even done asking. Aaron takes his hand and leads him through the crowd. As they head off, Julian glances over his shoulder and waves goodbye to Casey who's watching them with a knowing smile.

Outside, the cold air makes Julian shiver a bit. They lean against the brick wall and watch the cars drive past them for a moment. When Julian turns, he finds Aaron already watching him.

"Are you drunk?" 

Julian shakes his head. "Had just a few. Why?"

"I really want to kiss you right now," Aaron says softly. His eyes look darker in the night, and they dart down to Julian’s lips.

Julian smiles, feeling a warm fluttering sensation in his chest. "You don't have to ask."

Aaron wastes no time. He leans in and places a hand on Julian’s cheek, his touch warm and electrifying. Julian leans up on his tiptoes and presses their lips together, running his hands down Aaron’s chest while Aaron holds his face. It sets a fire alight inside Julian, his skin tingling where they touch.

It’s… quiet, is all Julian can think. His mind is quiet. His body is quiet in the sense that it’s not itching to run away, not vibrating from fear or disgust. When Aaron sucks at his lower lip and softly caresses his cheek, Julian feels… hot. He finds this whole thing unbearably hot, which is funny, because this is probably one of the most innocent kisses he’s ever shared with someone.

Julian expects the kiss to deepen and get dirtier, but Aaron pulls away after a while, his jaw clenched. He’s breathing hard, cheeks red and eyes appearing even darker than before. “God, Jules. You’re… I can’t believe you’re real sometimes.”

Snorting, Julian playfully presses a palm to his chest and lightly shoves him away. “Sweet talker.”

Aaron looks pleased by that, a sly smirk slowly curling onto his face. “I’m serious. Have you looked in a mirror, ever? You’re unreal. I gotta pinch myself every time to make sure I’m not dreaming.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Dreaming, huh? You dream about me?” 

With a quick move forward, Aaron lands three aggressive yet sweet pecks at the corner of Julian's mouth. It makes Julian giggle, tickled by Aaron’s scruff rubbing against his skin.

“You know damn well I do,” Aaron says, landing one final kiss on Julian’s smiling mouth. 

“Oh yeah? What are they about?” 

Aaron tilts his head, his eyes glinting mischievously. “Oh, you know…”

“Oh, do I?” 

Slowly, Aaron leans in again, planting both hands on either side of Julian’s waist, making his breath hitch a bit. Against his ear, he feels Aaron’s hot breath. “I’ll demonstrate what I was doing to you in my dream. Would you like that?”

Suddenly feeling hot in his layered clothing, Julian tries his best to pretend like none of this is getting to him. He merely raises an eyebrow when Aaron brushes the tip of his nose against the apple of Julian’s cheek. “Out here? In public? Scandalous.” 

It’s Aaron’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Why, what do you think I was doing to you in my dream, Jules? Hmm?” He digs his fingers into Julian’s ribs all of a sudden, making him burst into a surprised laugh. “This is what I was talking about. We were having a tickle fight in my dream. What did you think I was going to do, huh?”  

He sucks in a breath between his embarrassing chortles, trying in vain to pry Aaron’s hands off him, but the man is persistent. Aaron’s pressing him against the wall now, his taller frame trapping him against the brick wall. Yet, not once did Julian feel even the slightest bit of apprehension.

“Stop!” Julian cries out, pushing at Aaron’s chest, but it does nothing to stop Aaron’s attack. “S-seriously, I can’t breathe!”

“You gotta tell me first what you thought my dream was.” Aaron’s laughing too, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Your face is so red!”

“Please!” Julian lets out a particularly loud and mortifying squeal when Aaron digs his fingers into a specific spot near his ribs. Luckily, Aaron takes this as a sign to finally stop trying to tickle him to death.

As soon as Aaron pulls away from him, Julian lands a weak punch on his arm. “You asshole!”

Aaron merely grins, stepping back into Julian’s space so their shoulders and thighs are pressed together. “I would apologize, but I’m not really sorry. Your laugh is adorable. And I love seeing you smile.”

“You love seeing me suffer, more like.”

“It was happy suffering! Tickling is good for the heart.”

“You are such a child.” Julian tries to keep himself from smiling, but it’s impossible when Aaron’s right here next to him, so warm and solid and real, with a smile so beautiful it makes Julian wonder why he even bothers looking at anything else at all.

“You love me,” Aaron says smugly. 

He sighs dramatically but doesn’t say anything else. What’s there to say, anyway? It's true, in a way. He loves Aaron the same way he loves sitting in front of a warm fireplace, or the way he loves the smell of home-baked cookies. He loves Aaron the same way he loves Wednesdays and old music, which takes him back to his childhood. He loves Aaron the way he loves slow, quiet mornings and uneventful nights.

It feels good to just… feel it. To know he’s capable of that feeling. To know that no matter what happens next, he’ll be able to say that he experienced the privilege of loving Aaron.  

Is it romantic love? He's not sure. But it makes him feel warm and safe and happy—and isn't that what love is?

"Thank you for being here. It's the best Christmas slash New Year’s gift I've had in a while," Aaron speaks into the comfortable silence. 

"Same," Julian murmurs, resting his head on Aaron's shoulder. Aaron wraps an arm around his waist, pulling him close so their bodies are pressed even closer together. Julian wishes he could be next to him all the time. "Holidays have been shitty lately."

"Why d’you say so?"

"Let's just say I live a pathetic life."

He feels Aaron tighten his arm around him. "You must miss your family. It's normal to feel that way, especially if you're used to always being with them. Just know that they're proud of you because you're out here studying really hard and doing well."

The mention of his family makes tears spring to his eyes. He plays with the neckline of Aaron's top, voice shaky when he says, "I miss them so bad."

"I know, babe. You can always give them a call, right?"

"We don't talk anymore."

There's a beat of silence as Aaron takes that information in. Julian buries his face in the dip of his neck, clinging to him tightly. He concentrates hard and wills his tears not to fall.

"Why not?" Aaron asks carefully.

"Because I—" Julian bites his tongue. 

He wants to tell Aaron the truth—of course he does. It would be so easy to tell him that distancing himself from his family is the only way to protect them. That his mother is still in rehab and thinks her son is living his best life with his boyfriend, when in reality, his pimp owns him and makes money off of his body. He wants to tell him that Emily doesn't even know what's going on in his life, hasn't known for years, and probably never will. That the next time Emily sees him, it'll probably be to identify his rotten corpse found in a random trunk or a dingy motel bathroom. 

But he knows he can't tell him. 

So, he takes a deep breath and lies—because that’s what he does best. "I had a big fight with my mom and sister. We haven't properly talked in years."

"What about your dad?"

Julian goes rigid. He decides to tell the truth. "He's dead."

"I'm so sorry," Aaron says quietly, rubbing soothing circles on his back. 

Julian forces out a laugh and pulls away slightly so he can peer up at him. "It's whatever. He was a dick. Anyway, let's not talk about depressing shit. I'm not going to ruin your night."

"You're not ruining my night," Aaron firmly tells him. "I'm happy that you feel comfortable enough to open up to me. I'm a good listener, or so I've been told. If you want to talk about this stuff, I'm more than okay with it."

Julian nods, his chest feeling tight. "I appreciate that. But, um. I really don't want to talk about it right now. Sorry."

"That's okay," Aaron says, leaning in to plant a kiss on his forehead. "I'm comfortable with whatever you're comfortable with."

Julian doesn't know what to say, so he leans in for another kiss. A tear drops as they pull away, and Aaron dries his cheek with the pad of his thumb. Aaron’s eyes are full of questions, but he says nothing, and Julian takes comfort in the merciful silence.

☾ 

Julian meets his last regular client for the night. He remembers thinking of Preston as one of his better clients, what with his tendency to treat Julian like his spouse and shower him with soft kisses like no other client would. 

Except, Preston is an entirely different person tonight. When Julian knocks on his hotel room, he's not greeted by a sweet kiss. Instead, he's aggressively dragged inside by his arm.

"Clothes. Off." Preston is drunk, Julian can already tell. Maybe even high, judging by his blown pupils. His gaze is hard. Julian's never seen him like this.

He removes his coat and unbuttons his shirt while Preston impatiently gets his jeans off. When he's finally naked, he's dragged to bed. Preston practically shoves him onto the mattress before climbing after him and covering Julian's body with his, hovering over him for a moment before leaning down for a hot, hurried kiss. Julian groans when Preston bites his bottom lip, hard enough that Julian wonders if he's drawn blood.

Preston preps him with lubed fingers, but he's sloppier and more careless than before. When Julian holds onto his shoulders like he knows he likes, Preston grunts and takes him by the wrists, pinning them on the mattress over his head.

"You're not allowed to fucking touch me," Preston hisses, eyes blazing as he stares down at Julian, "after what you did…"

Julian knows Preston is into roleplaying, but usually, he informs Julian about the specifics before they get started. Julian opens his mouth to say just that, but then Preston shoves a rolled-up necktie between his lips to shut him up.

He tries moving his hands but it's impossible to break free from Preston's grip on his wrists.

There's a crackle of a condom wrapper, and then he's sliding into Julian with no warning. Julian's gasp of pain is muffled by the necktie in his mouth.

"Can he fuck you like this, huh? Was it fucking worth it if he can't fuck you like this?" Preston pants, slamming in hard.

Julian screams, pain shooting up his spine. Preston doesn't stop—he fucks him rough and quick and careless that Julian can barely breathe, tears gathering at the corner of his eyes. Preston licks and bites the side of his neck, down his collarbones and nipples, surely leaving behind bruises. Julian aches all over—he can barely feel his hands from how tightly Preston is gripping his wrists. He's used to pain but it still catches him off guard every time, and there's something about tonight that makes him feel everything. Suddenly, he's unable to block out the loud slap of skin against skin, the creaking bed, or Preston's predatory gaze. He feels it all—the pain, the fear, the hopelessness—and it washes over him like a tide, overwhelming him to the point where he feels like he's drowning.

"You're mine, you're fucking mine," Preston growls, and then slaps Julian hard across the face. Julian hears the sound before he feels the pain blooming on his skin, but when he finally registers it, new tears spring to his eyes.

"Stop," Julian chokes out, but it all comes out as a muffled sound with the necktie in his mouth. 

Preston does it again, twice in a row. Julian cries out. Preston pounds into him even harder and Julian starts twisting and turning underneath him, trying in vain to get away as he chokes on his spit. Preston pins his hip to the mattress with one hand and only goes even harder.

"Fucking slut," Preston says gruffly. Suddenly, he pulls out and turns Julian around so he’s on his hands and knees. Julian's head spins as he tries to regain his bearings, and then Preston spanks him hard—hard enough to make his arms collapse so he falls face-first into the mattress.

Preston keeps on murmuring sharp words, and at one point he calls him Sylvia. He puts a hand on the back of Julian's neck so his upper body is pressed into the mattress while his ass is up in the air, hot and stinging from several hits. Preston slides into him again, and though the angle makes the pain more bearable, Julian still feels the sharp ache it brings.

When Preston puts him in a chokehold position, Julian panics and kicks his legs out, screaming through the necktie in his mouth. "Stop!"

"Shhh, shh, I got you," Preston's breath is hot against the side of his neck, smelling of liquor. He tightens his arm around Julian's neck and he feels the blood rushing in his ears. 

Julian chokes and sputters when Preston tightens his hold even more, black spots suddenly dotting his vision as he flails and kicks and screams with no sound. 

For a moment, Julian wonders if this is it—if he'll die in this random hotel room tonight, choked to death by a man who pays him regularly, only to be identified as a nameless prostitute who’s had it coming all along. 

There’s a small part of him, a quiet voice in the back of his mind that’s drawn to the idea of just… not existing. As he chokes desperately for breath, he feels a faint glimmer of relief. Does he not deserve to rest? He’s always been drawn to the idea of escaping his own skin, of not having to live in his own mind. 

Is dying not one of the ways to achieve that?

What would people think if he died? Would they even find out? Would Aaron think he just abandoned him out of nowhere after spending so many meaningful moments together? Would Aaron grow to resent him, thinking that Julian just decided to not be in his life anymore?

And what about Emily and Mom? Will they ever learn the truth of what happened to him, of what he’s been through? He won’t be able to protect them if he’s dead. Will all of his sacrifices be for nothing after all?

All of these thoughts zip through his cloudy mind in less than a second. In the end, it’s pure instinct that makes him fight back—an animalistic urge to survive despite everything. 

A sudden surge of adrenaline courses through Julian, fueling him with enough strength to drive his elbow into Preston's gut. He shoves the man off him, strong enough to make him tumble off the bed and drop to the floor with a loud thump. He removes the balled-up necktie from his mouth, his lungs and throat burning as he sucks in as much air as he can. The room spins as he somehow gets onto his feet. 

For a moment, he stands there, breathing hard and hysterically crying. But then Preston starts getting up from the floor and fear pushes Julian to grab whatever pieces of clothing he can find before running out the door. His vision is still blurry, and his head throbs so badly that he doesn't know how he even managed to get to the stairwell and wrap himself up in his coat. The garment reaches about halfway down his thighs, only barely enough to cover his naked body.

He's sobbing so hard that every gasp feels like it's tearing him apart. He closes his eyes and breathes in and out for a few seconds until he hears Preston's voice echoing down the hall. 

Julian breaks into a sprint and doesn't look back.

Somehow, he makes it out to the streets, the world still spinning and blurry around him. He sits behind a dumpster and cries, his entire body trembling as he shakily pulls out his phone and calls Logan.

"Please pick up…" Julian cries, but his voice isn't even working anymore. He calms himself down by reminding himself that this has happened before and Logan sorted it out for him, so everything will be okay. Logan might be a terrible person, but he knows how to run a business and he needs his prostitutes alive if he wants to make money off of them. Logan's going to deal with Preston so Julian doesn't have to see him again, and Julian will get over this and pretend like it never happened at all.

Please pick up.

Please pick up.

Please pick up.

Logan doesn't answer his call. The voice on his phone says that the number he's trying to dial is unavailable. Julian lets out a frustrated cry, hands trembling as he tries to call him again. He sits there for fifteen minutes calling Logan again and again, but Julian can't reach him. 

Julian's panic-addled brain doesn't hesitate to call Aaron instead, thinking of his gentle hands and warm eyes that always made him feel safe no matter what.

"Hey!" Aaron picks up on the fourth ring.

Julian cries out in relief upon hearing his voice. He can't seem to stop crying after that.

"Julian? What's happening?" Aaron's tone shifts instantly, sounding equally alarmed and confused. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"I'm sorry, I n-need help," Julian tries to say, but no sound comes out of his mouth aside from a few broken syllables that don't make any sense.

"Julian, I can't hear you. Can you say that again?" Aaron’s voice is a bit louder now, panic slowly creeping in. Julian tries responding but his voice still refuses to work.

"Okay, okay, please take a deep breath for me, can you do that? Can you do that, Jules?" Aaron himself sounds breathless. Julian nods as if Aaron can see it and sucks in a large gulp of air through his shuddering breaths. "That's good. You're doing great. Here's what we'll do—text me where you are, okay? I can't understand you, so I need you to text me where you are. Can you do that for me?"

Julian says "Yes" but the only sound he makes is the drawn-out "s" sound.

"Okay, okay. You can hang up for now if you need to, then call me again after you send the text, alright?" 

Somehow, Julian manages to do that through the muddled mess of his brain and aching body. With shaking fingers, Julian types the name of the hotel, telling him he's in the narrow alley beside it, and immediately calls him back.

"Got it, I'll be right there," Aaron says, and the overwhelming distress in his voice somehow calms Julian down. "Stay on the phone with me, okay? I'm coming. I’ll be there."

Julian clutches the phone for dear life, his chest heaving as his body shudders uncontrollably. He's only wearing a fucking coat and he's barefoot on the cold pavement, after all. Julian doesn't know how he's going to explain this to Aaron, but that's the least of his concerns right now.

"Are you hurt, Jules? I'm in my car and I'll be there in a bit, but I need to know if I have to call the ambulance—"

"No," Julian says frantically, his throat feeling raw as he forces the sound out of his mouth. "No ambulance or police. Please."

Aaron seems to understand him despite Julian practically being voiceless. "Okay, I won't call them. I promise."

For what feels like hours, Julian's only company is the coldness seeping into his bones and the busy sounds of the street, but eventually, he hears quiet footsteps from the edge of the alley. He immediately freezes as terror takes over him again. He presses himself closer to the wall so he’s hidden by the dumpster, hoping that the stranger won’t come any closer.

He hears Aaron's voice.

"Julian?"

Julian's response is a pathetic whimper as he hauls himself onto his feet, limbs trembling and knees threatening to buckle. 

He catches the exact moment Aaron lays eyes on him. Aaron freezes in his spot, his mouth dropping open in shock. A broken sob escapes Julian’s lips at the sight of his friend, which seems to snap Aaron back into action. He rushes straight toward Julian, eyes wide with a kind of terror Julian’s never seen on him before.

Once Aaron's close enough to touch, Julian jumps into his arms and holds onto him tightly, his entire body trembling from both the cold and the anguished cries racking through his body. Aaron's arms around him are strong and warm. Julian wants to melt into him—wants fuse himself to Aaron’s very being and stay there forever, hidden under his skin where nothing can ever reach him. 

"Fucking hell." Aaron sounds close to tears. He tries to pull away to look at Julian's face but Julian keeps his head pressed to Aaron’s neck, unable to control the ugly sobs painfully being ripped out of his lungs. "Fuck, okay. My car's right there by the curb, do you think you can walk?"

Julian nods against him but doesn't make a move to walk, only pressing himself closer to Aaron. Eventually, Aaron picks him up as best as he can, gently cradling him in a bridal carry, and Julian hides his face against Aaron's neck, tears and spit gathering at his skin there. At the very least Julian knows he's as light as a feather and Aaron's not struggling to carry him. He hopes so.

Aaron sits him down in the passenger seat, securing the seatbelt over his chest before pulling away. Julian doesn't know why he's acting this way, but he grips the sleeve of Aaron’s shirt desperately, keeping him hunched over the door.

"Jules, I'm not leaving, I just need to get to the other side, okay?" Aaron tells him softly, but his voice cracks toward the end. When Julian looks up, he realizes that Aaron's eyes are glassy with unshed tears. Reluctantly, Julian lets go. Aaron smiles—it looks forced—and closes his door before jogging around the car and getting into the driver's seat. At some point, he takes Julian's hand. He’s unsure which of them is trembling more.

The ride is silent save for Julian's occasional whimpers and sniffles. He's staring out the window and everything sounds like white noise. He doesn't feel awake. He feels detached from his body and he can imagine what he must look like from the passers-by's perspectives outside the car—a poor, beat-up kid with soulless eyes. He doesn't want to imagine how Aaron sees him right now.

Everything's fuzzy and murky in his head when Aaron pulls over in front of a red-brick building. Aaron rushes over to his side and opens the door. Julian lets himself be led into the building and up a few flights of stairs. Aaron's talking to him, Julian can see his mouth move and his brows furrow in concern, but Julian doesn't understand a word. He's cold and his body feels numb. It feels like his brain shut down and Julian's on autopilot, walking and carrying his weight but absent. It's no surprise that this isn't the first time he's felt like this.

There's a gaping black hole in his memory. The next thing he knows, he's sitting on a couch in an apartment with a duvet wrapped around his shoulders, his body sore and aching all over. Aaron is kneeling in front of him, his eyes looking almost manic as he takes Julian's face between his palms.

"Can you hear me? Where are you hurt? Are you bleeding anywhere? Fuck, you're trembling. Please say something, Julian—I need to know how I can help you."

Distantly, Julian realizes that he's never seen Aaron like this before. He's always been a beacon of light—the human embodiment of the sun. Never has Aaron looked this shaken and desperate, the light in his eyes doused by despair that shouldn’t ever exist in Aaron’s world. All because of him. Julian has a curse, perhaps, of destroying everything beautiful and bright.

"I'm sorry," Julian hears himself say. His voice is still practically non-existent, but Aaron seems to read his lips just fine.

"God, don't apologize, please," Aaron says, smiling shakily. The first tear drops on his cheek. Julian reaches out with a trembling hand and wipes it away.

"Julian? Please talk to me." Aaron's begging him at this point, his chest heaving and warm hands still trembling. The only thing Julian can think of is how he ruined Aaron's night. He probably had plans for New Year's Eve, but of course Julian had to ruin it. It's the only thing he knows how to do.

At one point, Aaron gently brings a bottle of water to his mouth. Julian doesn't remember where that suddenly came from, but he complies and opens up. Thankfully, the water soothes his throat and clears his head a bit. 

Aaron sits at his side, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Julian lets himself be held and melts into him, staring at the blank wall in front of them.

"Do you feel better now?" Aaron asks, his voice quiet. Julian nods. "Okay. I can get you some warm clothes if you like?"

Julian nods again. Distantly, he wonders what Aaron must be thinking about the fact that Julian's only wearing a coat and is completely naked underneath. 

Aaron tells him he'll be right back and disappears into one of the rooms before emerging with the promised clothes. Julian hates that Aaron's eyes look so dim and his face is paler than usual, lacking its usual glow, so he looks down at his feet and pulls the duvet tighter around his body.

"Here," Aaron says, handing him the clothes. His voice is as gentle as ever. But there's still a deep crease between his eyebrows and a tight pinch at his lips that makes him look older. Harrowed, even. "The bathroom is that way, if you want to use it."

Julian goes to the bathroom and locks the door behind him. He avoids his reflection at all costs. The shirt and sweatpants Aaron gave him hang off his thin body, making him look ridiculous. Julian leaves his coat on the hook behind the door and splashes cold water onto his face. Then, he takes deep breaths until he feels more awake and braces himself as he steps out to face Aaron.

Aaron is immediately on his feet as soon as Julian leaves the bathroom. He's watching Julian with a mix of caution and worry, so Julian gives him a small smile to quell his anxiety.

"Thanks," Julian mouths. He doesn't know how long it will take for his voice to come back, but it hurts to force it, so he doesn't even try anymore.

"I made you tea," Aaron tells him, motioning at the steaming mug at the coffee table. "It'll help with your voice."

Julian wraps his arms around his torso and sits back down on the couch. Aaron picks up the duvet he dropped earlier and drapes it over his shoulders again. With a small sigh, Julian grabs the mug of tea and uses it to warm his hands.

The silence is deafening. Julian can't even begin to imagine the amount of panic he must have caused Aaron. Julian has experienced worse with his clients before and he didn't exactly turn into a crying baby in front of Logan, so whatever the fuck happened just now, Julian blames it on the bottled-up emotions he's been keeping inside for the last few months.

Julian takes a sip from his tea and glances at him. Aaron still looks like he's a second away from breaking down, his eyes red and slightly puffy. His eyes trail over Julian's face and neck—fuck, there are probably bruises starting to bloom there.

Licking his cracked lips, Julian feels the sudden need to comfort Aaron as best as he can. "I'm fine. The tea really helps."

Aaron lets out a hollow laugh, his expression far from humorous. "You are not fine. You call me in the middle of the night crying, and when I find you you're covered in bruises and wearing nothing but a long coat. You were so out of it that I couldn't even talk to you for half an hour—"

"I'm sorry," Julian whispers, feeling his lower lip start to tremble. "I just didn't know who else to call. I know I shouldn't have—"

"Hey," Aaron cuts him off, his voice soft but firm at the same time. He gently takes Julian’s chin and tilts his face toward him. "I'm not mad that you called me, I'm relieved you did. I'm just—I don't know what happened to you and I don't know if I'm helping you the right way. I just panicked. I'm sorry. I'm not mad at you. Never at you."

Julian sniffles. "It's not—it's nothing bad. I know it looks bad, but it's not. I just got mugged. I overreacted."

Aaron obviously doesn't buy it. His jaw clenches, gaze hardening as he looks from Julian's neck to his wrists. He carefully takes Julian's hands and pushes the sleeves out of the way, revealing darkening finger-shaped bruises on his pale skin. He looks back at Julian, eyes glinting with what looks like barely concealed rage. "Who did this?"

Julian knows Aaron's mad at the person who hurt him and not at Julian himself, but his tone still makes him flinch. 

"It—I told you, it was a random mugger," Julian says quietly.

"What happened to your clothes?"

Julian fish mouths for a bit. "Well, I—I mean, there was a bunch of them. They thought it would be funny if they took my clothes too."

A mix of heartbreak and anger flickers across Aaron’s face. "Why won't you tell me the truth? I'm here to help. Whoever did this, I swear I’ll fucking—" Aaron cuts himself off. He takes a deep breath and settles with, "You can trust me. I promise."

"I'm not lying," Julian says weakly, staring at Aaron's T-shirt to avoid his gaze.

"And what about the bruises?" Aaron’s voice rises as he lightly runs his thumb over the purplish-green bruises around his wrists. Julian thinks of hundreds of other scars he's got hidden beneath his clothes.

"I put up a fight. The muggers held me down," Julian whispers.

Aaron lets out a sharp breath. He doesn’t say anything for a while, and just when Julian thinks he’s truly angered him, Aaron speaks. “When you’re ready to tell me the truth, I’ll be here to listen. Okay? You can tell me anything. Anything at all.” 

Julian swallows, his mouth feeling impossibly dry at the sight of Aaron’s imploring eyes. Aaron has never lied to him. He is the only person who has ever been good to Julian even when he feels like he doesn’t deserve it at all. To make Aaron worry so much like this, to see him frantic with concern, all because of Julian…

He decides that Aaron deserves the truth. A sliver of it, at the very least. He opens his mouth, his face still feeling numb yet aching from the abuse it endured earlier. He forces himself to meet Aaron’s eyes—always so open and kind—and finds the words slipping out of his mouth without his permission.

“I’m not who I say I am.” Julian hears his own broken whisper, vision blurring from a fresh wave of tears. “I’m a fucking liar.”

“Jules…” Aaron says softly, yet his breath hitches with emotion. He moves toward Julian and wraps him in a tight hug, gently pressing Julian’s face to his sturdy shoulder. “It’s okay. Whatever—whatever you think you did, whatever’s going on, I’m here to listen. And I’ll be on your side. No matter what.”

His voice, his familiar scent, the warmth of him that sometimes feels like Julian’s very own lifeline—all of these things send Julian’s walls crashing down, every emotion he bottled up seeping out of him like blood dripping from a cut. 

There’s a hysterical wail, not unlike the sound of a wounded animal. Raw and unfiltered. Distantly, he knows these sounds are coming from him, but he feels disconnected from everything. All he knows is that he’s in Aaron’s arms right now where only kindness and safety and softness exist. It doesn’t matter that a half-sob, half-scream just left his mouth—Aaron won’t care. He doesn’t care that Julian’s making a mess of his shirt, staining it with hot tears. He doesn’t care that Julian’s hands are clutching at his chest viciously, doesn’t care that it hurts. He doesn’t care that Julian is a liar and a fake. A whore. Julian has to believe that he doesn’t care about these things, because this is Aaron, and Aaron has only ever been good to him.

Julian lets it all out. He may not be prepared to tell Aaron everything he’s going through with words, but he can bare himself like this, let his emotions do all the talking. He cries and cries and cries, and sometimes he feels like he won’t ever be able to stop, that this is how he’ll spend the rest of his days—crying over things he can’t change or undo, grieving every part of him that died and keeps dying every day. 

But it does stop. Eventually, the impossibly tight knot in his chest loosens, giving him space to breathe. Instead of tortured cries, all that escapes him now are quiet, ragged breaths, yet his body still trembles. Through it all, Aaron is unmoving—solid. He’s still holding Julian, pressed tightly in an embrace neither of them wants to break. He’s rubbing soothing circles on Julian’s back now, rocking them back and forth ever so slightly.

Julian feels a slight vibration under his cheek, which is pressed against Aaron’s chest. Belatedly, he recognizes the deep murmur of Aaron’s voice. It’s a sweet, calm tune; there are no words, just a quiet hum of a melody.    

“My mom used to sing me to sleep all the time,” Aaron says, his voice quiet and strangely fragile. “I used to have nightmares as a kid, so she made this lullaby just for me. Even now when I’m older, hearing it makes me feel safer. Like she’s right here beside me. Beside us.”

Pulling away a bit, Julian takes Aaron’s face in his hands. When they meet each other’s gazes, Julian finds Aaron’s eyes glistening, cheeks wet with tear tracks. “Your mom sounds lovely.”

“I want you to meet her someday,” Aaron says, unguarded and always so honest. His voice is rough. “She’ll love you, and you’ll love her. I already know it.”

Julian lets out a shuddering breath, forcing a small smile onto his face. “Mhm. And do you want to meet my mom?”

“Of course.”

“She’s in rehab right now. You know the Healing Path Rehabilitation Center? Across the Westridge bridge? That’s the one.”

His eyebrows furrow. “Is she doing okay?”

“She’ll be safe as long as I—” Julian catches himself. “She’ll be fine. My family and I just have a lot of stuff going on. It’s complicated.”

“What happened to you tonight,” Aaron starts, sounding almost cautious, “is it related to your family?”

He sniffles. “Not really. Not directly, at least.” 

Aaron nods, but the tightness in his jaw betrays his frustration. He brushes his thumb gently across Julian’s damp cheek, his eyes filled with a silent plea. “Anything, alright? You can tell me anything. You can trust me.”

Julian grips the hand cradling his face. “It’s not safe.”

“I don’t care about being safe. I want you to be safe. That’s all I care about.”

“You can’t mean that.”

“I do. Julian, I—” Aaron shakes his head, pursing his lips for a moment. “You’re one of the most important people in my life. Of course I mean it.”

Julian looks away from his gaze, feeling overwhelmed all of a sudden. Like a puppet cut free from his strings, Julian suddenly feels ready to collapse—his body heavy and aching from everything he went through. His eyes feel sore and puffy, while his throat still throbs with pain.

There’s a lot they need to talk about, but tonight isn’t the night to do it.

“I’m really tired.” It’s a quiet apology. “I—maybe tomorrow? We can talk more tomorrow. I don’t know how much I’ll be able to tell you, but I’ll try. For now… can we just rest?”

A look of relief washes over Aaron’s face. “Of course. Whatever you want, Jules.” 

Aaron leads him to his bedroom. It’s dim inside and the bed is large and comfortable. Julian feels like he’s slowly shutting down as he climbs onto the mattress, his movements slow and languid. His body still aches and he’s sure his bruises will look worse in the morning, but he doesn’t have the energy to care about any of that right now.

As soon as Julian’s settled, Aaron sits at his side and drapes a blanket over him. The bedside lamp washes Aaron’s face in soft yellows, making him appear almost ethereal, even with the obvious traces of distress on his features.

“Thank you for trusting me,” Aaron says quietly, his voice cracking. His fingers find Julian’s curls. “You were in a terrible situation and you called me. I’m happy that you did. It means a lot that you trust me enough to take care of you.”

Julian smiles. His voice is nothing more than a whisper. “Sleep with me?”

Without another word, Aaron climbs under the covers. They lie on their sides for a while, facing each other. Aaron seems content to just watch him, and the evidence can be found in the small, sated smile on his lips. 

“Thank you for everything,” Julian tells him, his throat feeling tight. “You don’t even know how much you’ve helped me. How you give me a reason to keep going.”

He takes Julian’s hand and brings it to his face, pressing a soft kiss to the back of his hand. “And I’ll continue to be here for you, no matter what. Don’t you remember what I told you before? It’s not easy to get rid of me. And I plan to be at your side for a long time.”

Julian huffs out a quiet laugh. “I really don’t deserve you.”

“I think, for a long time, you haven’t been treated the way you deserve to be treated.” There’s a conviction in Aaron’s voice that makes him want to believe those words. “We’re going to change that.”

He doesn’t know what to say. So, he closes his eyes. He lets Aaron’s words echo in his head like a lullaby—like a promise. As he drifts off to sleep and basks in the silence, it feels like nothing can go wrong. 

☾ 

Julian jolts awake.

It’s dark. Hours must’ve already passed since he fell asleep. Aaron is still dead to the world, his hand resting limply on Julian’s hip. For some reason, Julian’s heart is hammering in his chest. Did he have a nightmare? 

It was probably just a nightmare.

He’s settling back into bed to continue his sleep when he hears it.

A voice.

He leaps out of bed and stumbles out of the bedroom, his head spinning as fear begins to take root inside him. There’s a window in Aaron’s living room, and the voice grows louder and louder as he approaches. He shoves the curtains aside, blood running cold as his gaze falls to the street two stories below.

There, in front of Aaron’s apartment building, stands Logan. His deep voice pierces the night as he shouts Julian’s name with chilling force.

Chapter Text

Julian’s worst nightmares always involve Logan and Aaron crossing paths somehow. Sometimes, he’d wake up in a cold sweat after a terrible dream where Logan finds out about Aaron, hunts him down, and hurts him right in front of Julian. Splashes of blood, Aaron’s cries of pain, Logan’s dark, furious eyes and rough hands—those images always remain seared in the back of his eyelids hours after waking up. 

Those nightmares hover over him like a dark cloud, threatening and ever-present, but there’s no telling when or if it would ever happen. And for a while there, Julian was convinced that those nightmares would never turn into reality. He fully believed that there was just no way he’d ever be careless enough to bring harm to Aaron by putting him on Logan’s radar. 

Aaron and Logan are two of the most prominent people in his life right now, each one of them sitting at two ends of a spectrum. Aaron is the strong fire that sheds light on his days, and Logan is the physical embodiment of a heavy shadow that swallows everything in its path. In his head, there’s just no way that two people who are so fundamentally different could ever overlap. To Julian, them crossing paths somehow means the world has gone off its axis, and that everything from that point forward points to nothing but chaos.

It’s always been a nightmare, something he couldn’t ever fathom happening in real life. It’s always been a constant possibility, of course, but he could never see it as tangible. He could never see it as reality.

That’s why it takes him an awfully long time to understand what he’s looking at: Logan stands in front of Aaron’s apartment building, the harsh glow of the lampposts casting eerie shadows across his tense figure. His fists are clenched tightly as he paces back and forth, his sharp eyes darting to the windows above. 

“Julian!” Logan yells, his voice as intense and commanding as ever. He continues searching the building, but it seems like he can’t see Julian through the window. 

However, there’s something in his tone that makes it sound like he’s… concerned. Worried, even. 

Julian isn’t a stranger to Logan being wrathful and cruel, but from time to time, Julian also sees a different side of him. Logan does care to some extent—in his own way. Julian has witnessed it before. Perhaps it stems from Logan’s possessiveness of what’s his, or maybe it’s some inexplicable facet of Logan’s odd liking for him, but it’s definitely there, and Julian sees it right now.

Logan is worried about Julian. He must’ve seen Julian’s missed calls and put two and two together. Logan probably thinks some client has dragged him off to who knows where and is worried that he’ll end up finding Julian’s corpse in one of these rooms. 

But how could Logan have found him? If this isn’t a nightmare, what logical explanation is there for Logan showing up at Aaron’s place, yelling and raging like a madman in front of his building? What logical explanation is there for Logan and Aaron literally being a few footsteps away from each other? 

None of it feels real. He grips the curtains tightly, stares down at Logan, and tries to make sense of it. 

Logan continues to pace as he pulls out his phone and presses it to his ear. His phone. Julian needs his phone. He flinches like he’s been electrocuted, trembling all over as he tries to recall where he left the damn thing. His chest feels increasingly tighter as he makes a run for the bathroom where he remembers leaving his coat. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Julian whispers shakily, reaching for his phone in the coat’s pocket. In an instant, his screen lights up with a barrage of notifications. He’s got 32 missed calls from Logan and a handful of texts. 

He shoves his coat on and trips on his way out of the bathroom, nearly knocking over Aaron’s shoe rack as he grabs a random pair and hastily slips them on. He peeks out the window again and finds Logan marching toward the entrance of the apartment building, making his heart drop to his stomach.

No. He can’t let Logan get any closer than he already is to Aaron.

His mind races with panicked, jumbled thoughts as he hurries out of the apartment. For a moment, he thinks he hears an echo of Aaron’s voice, but he ignores it as he runs through the hallway and down the stairs, his mind set on nothing but to get out of the building and drag Logan as far away as possible from here.

Everything’s a blur. The next thing he knows, his shoes are slamming against the concrete as he exits the building and meets Logan halfway. At Julian’s sudden appearance, Logan stops dead in his tracks.

“Logan,” Julian breathes out, his chest heaving with both apprehension and exhaustion.

For a second, Logan stands there with a blank expression. Up close, he looks the same always, though there are bags beneath his eyes and he appears more disheveled than usual. Julian keeps a close eye on Logan’s curled fists and prepares for the possibility that Logan might hit him.

As he anticipated, Logan makes a quick move forward and Julian braces himself for pain. But instead of a rough fist to the face, Julian is suddenly dragged into Logan’s bulky frame, his arms wrapping around Julian tightly.

The unexpected embrace leaves him stunned, his mouth falling open as he finds himself pressed against Logan’s chest. Shakily, Julian lightly rests his palms on Logan’s back, afraid to anger him by not reciprocating his touch.

“What did I tell you?” Logan pulls away, gripping Julian by his arms. His tone is harsh, but there’s an unmistakable look of relief on his face. “I told you to fucking call Ricky if something happens and I’m not there.”

“I’m sorry.” Julian’s response is automatic. He gently takes Logan’s arm and tries to pull him away from Aaron’s apartment building. There, on the other side of the road, he can see Logan’s parked car. “I wasn’t thinking, I’m sorry. So many things happened—”

Logan yanks his arm out of Julian’s hold. He turns Julian’s face this way and that, no doubt looking at the colorful bruises all over his neck and face. His expression immediately darkens. “Who did this?” He steps away and glances up at the apartment building. “Is that fucker in here?”

“No, no,” Julian says in panic. “No, it was Preston. He was drunk and high, I think. He hurt me really badly—”

“Preston? Preston Dale?” Logan tears his eyes away from the building and stares at him. “Then why are you on this side of town?”

“I just had to get away from him,” Julian explains quickly, his heart rabbiting in his chest. He’s not sure what the right thing to say is anymore. All he knows is that he has to get Logan away from here. That’s all that matters. “How—how did you find me?”

“I tracked your phone.” Something shifts in Logan’s expression, and it makes Julian’s blood run cold. This time, Logan’s voice is dangerously calm, a tone that makes it clear to Julian that he’s in serious trouble. “Answer my question. How’d you end up here?”

“Logan…” Julian knows he has to be careful now. He likes to think he’s a good liar, but he’s not sure if he’s good enough to fool Logan. Especially now when the stakes are too high, now when Aaron is too close for comfort. Still, he has to try, because messing up means putting Aaron in danger. “After the incident with Preston, I couldn’t reach you and I was panicking. When I calmed down a bit, I went to seek out another client so they could take me home and so I could rest a bit until you came—”

“Why not come straight home and wait for me there?”

Julian clamps his mouth shut. Logan is watching him closely, and he knows that one slip-up is all it will take to set him off. So, Julian has to lie better—and nothing makes for a better lie than one sprinkled with a little bit of truth. Quietly, in a gentle tone he knows Logan likes, he says, “I didn’t want to be alone. What Preston did… I was fucking terrified and I didn’t want to be alone in the apartment. I know I should’ve just gone back or called Ricky but I wasn’t thinking straight. I’m sorry. I know you’re mad and I deserve it. I messed up.”

He keeps his voice as small and non-confrontational as possible. His hand trembles when he grips the sleeve of Logan’s shirt, purposefully peering up at Logan through his eyelashes clumped with tears.

Julian’s tears are real, at least. Except, they’re not tears of guilt—they’re of fear. It’s all becoming too real now: Logan’s still standing way too close to Aaron’s place, and he clearly plans to question Julian about why and how he ended up in a random apartment building at the opposite end of town, in an area where he doesn’t even have any regular clients.

Logan’s right—Julian could’ve gone back to the apartment right away after the Preston incident. That would’ve made the most sense. Julian was hurt and terrified, hardly fit to service another client in his state, so of course, the logical thing would’ve been to retreat to Logan’s place, tail tucked between his legs, to lick his wounds and recover. That’s where he should’ve waited for Logan to arrive. That’s what he should’ve done in the first place.

But what he did was infinitely idiotic. He called Aaron. Instead of using his goddamn head, he dialed Aaron’s fucking number and let him take him back to his apartment.

Look where that brought them.

“I’m sorry,” Julian says again, even quieter this time. 

Blank-faced as ever, Logan just watches him. “You didn’t answer my calls.”

“I fell asleep. I’m sorry.” 

Logan doesn’t say anything for a moment. He looks down at Julian, his eyes trailing across Julian’s face. Gently, Logan cups Julian’s face and wipes a tear-streaked cheek with a rough thumb. “You have an answer for everything, don’t you?”

The coldness in Logan’s voice makes Julian shiver from apprehension. When he looks into Logan’s eyes this time, he comes to the crushing realization that he’s going to have to try harder, because his tactics clearly did not work.

Logan lands a light slap on Julian’s cheek before stepping away from him and crossing his arms. He looks around the quiet street and up the apartment building again, but this time, there’s a hard set to his mouth. “You know why I put a tracker in your phone?”

Julian feels a sudden jolt of terror shoot through him.

“I’m not stupid, Julian. I noticed you sneaking around. I’ve had my suspicions for a while now, but I just didn’t want to believe it. I didn’t want to believe that you’d be stupid enough to do that.”

He swallows, his breath coming quicker. “Logan—”

“It was a bit entertaining at first. I wanted to see exactly where this was going. I suspected that it was some lovestruck client who was spoiling you, and for some reason, you were receptive to his attention. I’ve dealt with other clients who got overly attached to you, do you remember? Those fools who’d follow you around and stalk you. So, I was wondering what makes this one so different that you didn’t tell me about him.” He moves closer, his warm breath hitting Julian’s cheek. “You know what I think now?”

In one swift movement, Logan roughly grabs his jaw and continues in a cold whisper, “I think you like this one. You’ve become fond of this client. Am I right? You like him so much that you’re becoming fucking reckless.”

A wave of dread washes over him, and he feels his vision blur with another round of tears. This isn’t happening. How long has Logan suspected him? How much does he know, exactly? Has he seen Julian with Aaron? Does he know Aaron’s face? As long as Logan doesn’t know about Aaron specifically, Julian can find a way around this. He has to.

So, Julian pushes all the terror he’s feeling to the side and focuses on getting out of this mess. “Logan, I—”

“Julian?”

He whips his head around, his chest tightening with a cold, creeping panic when he finds Aaron standing on the sidewalk only a few steps away from them. 

Aaron looks like he just rolled out of bed—because he probably did. In any other scenario, Julian would’ve found his terrible case of bedhead adorable. However, the softness in his sleep-rumpled appearance and slightly puffy eyes is eclipsed by the harsh, ice-cold stare he directs right at Logan. Despite his seemingly harmless appearance, his posture is all hard lines and rigidness waiting to snap like a coiled spring.

Julian realizes what this must look like to Aaron: him with his pale, tear-streaked face, and Logan with a death grip on his jaw as he towers over Julian.

There’s a clawing, desperate sensation in his chest and an insistent voice in his head telling him to run. To grab Aaron by the hand and get him away from Logan before his nightmares can come to life. 

Time seems to slow down as Julian meets Aaron’s eyes—somehow, there’s that spark of warmth he always has for Julian despite the heated glare he’s wearing, and Julian takes comfort in it, pulls strength from it, because he knows he needs it for whatever’s coming next.

“Who the fuck are you?” Logan’s voice is rough, edged with suspicion. He releases Julian’s face and turns toward Aaron, his gaze steady and expectant.

Julian looks back at Aaron and shakes his head ever so slightly. He hopes Aaron can read the desperation in his eyes and understand that this is something he needs to stay out of. That he needs to let Julian handle this by himself. The right choice would be for Aaron to walk away right now, pretend he doesn’t know Julian, go back to his apartment, and lock the door behind him.

But he sees Aaron’s clenched jaw. He sees the way Aaron’s sharp gaze goes back and forth between Julian and Logan, the sleepiness in his eyes gradually being replaced by the same look he wore when he saw the bruises all over Julian’s skin last night, the fire that burned in his eyes when he asked Julian to tell him who those bruises came from.  

And Julian knows that Aaron isn’t going to back down. For better or for worse, Aaron does what he wants to do. For better or for worse, Aaron is a good man with a good heart. What he sees is Julian’s frail, battered frame—bruised and pale—standing before an imposing man who radiates violence like it’s second nature.

Aaron’s going to want to be a hero, and Julian can’t let him.

So, when Aaron opens his mouth to respond, Julian cuts him off. He stares right into Aaron’s eyes as he coldly says, “He’s no one. Let’s just go home.”

There’s a spark of something in Logan’s eyes when he looks back at Aaron. This time, his voice is taunting. “You got something to say, kid?”

Aaron’s looking straight at Logan now, his hands clenching at his sides. There’s a quiet calm washing over his features, as though he’s just come to some kind of conclusion. Julian’s heart thunders in his chest, his mind running a million miles an hour as he desperately tries to map out a plan in his head to get them out of this.

“You’re Julian’s roommate?” is what Aaron says, his voice unreadable. 

Before Logan can respond, Julian cuts in. He keeps his voice airy and emotionless as though he’s bored. “Logan’s my boyfriend.”

If Julian hadn’t already been watching Aaron so closely, he would’ve missed it. But he sees it clear as day—the way Aaron takes a sudden, involuntary step back, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Julian doesn’t want to hurt him, but this is the best half-cooked plan he can come up with. There’s no way Aaron will let him go with Logan, so Julian’s going to have to be the one to make Aaron leave.

“Let’s go,” Julian says, his voice much softer now that he’s talking to Logan. He slowly puts a hand on Logan’s arm and tries to steer him toward the car again. “I’m hungry. And… I hurt all over. Please, Logan. Let’s just go.”

Logan shoots Aaron a narrow-eyed glare, lets out a sharp huff, and finally strides toward the car. Thank fucking God. Julian wants to cry from relief. He keeps his touch soft and gentle on Logan’s arm as they finally make it to the other side of the road where his car is parked. Logan unlocks the car and pulls the door open. Julian does his best to wait patiently, though his whole body shakes from the sheer amount of stress he’s been through—

“Was that you? Were you the one who hurt him?”

Julian freezes. He looks over his shoulder and finds Aaron much closer to them now, a look of pure, unadulterated fury painted all over his face. Even his voice—once neutral and unreadable—now carries a faint tremor, betraying the barely restrained emotion beneath.

“You don’t have to go with him. You can tell me. Is he the one who’s been hurting you? Who’s been making you miserable?” 

If Julian thought he saw the most intense version of Aaron last night, he’s sorely mistaken. This is the Aaron he’s never seen before—a man vibrating with a kind of anger Julian didn’t even know existed inside him. His jaw is locked so tight it’s a wonder his teeth don’t crack, and when he talks, he doesn’t shout. He doesn’t need to. There’s a chilly coldness to his voice that makes goosebumps rise to Julian’s skin. 

Bizarrely, at this very moment, Aaron reminds him of Logan. Except, Aaron’s wrath isn’t directed at Julian. It’s directed at the man who has made his life a living hell in so many ways.

“Aaron,” Julian breathes out, panic coursing through him as Aaron makes it close enough that he merely needs to take several more steps before he comes face to face with Logan. “Wait, wait, wait—”

"Come here," Aaron says, reaching for Julian—but before he can, a tight grip on Julian's wrist yanks him harshly backward. He trips on his feet and falls flat on his back, the impact made even worse as the back of his head smacks against the unforgiving asphalt.

The pain is intense enough to make his vision blackout for a few good seconds. Then, like a switch, he’s up again; he forces himself to sit up and blinks his eyes to clear his cloudy vision.

He’s still dizzy and nauseous, but all of that goes away when he hears it—the familiar sound of a fist hitting flesh.

Julian cries out as he stumbles to his feet, leaning on the car in an effort to stay upright. There, in the middle of the fucking road, Logan and Aaron are locked in a brutal fistfight, each blow landing with a sickening crack that makes Julian’s stomach turn.

He doesn’t know who threw the first punch, but he needs to stop them. Now. Aaron may have adrenaline and anger on his side, but Logan isn’t someone you can just get into a fight with and walk away unharmed. Aaron is only a few inches shorter than Logan, but Logan is much bulkier, and the man is a seasoned fucking criminal.

If he doesn’t stop this, there’s no way Aaron’s making it out of this alive.

Logan has killed people for far less. He’s shot people point-blank because they couldn’t pay for the prostitute they took home, has beaten people to death because of a payment that couldn’t be made on time. None of those people even laid a finger on Logan, and they met gruesome fates. Right now, Aaron’s making Logan bleed, so it’s absolutely safe to say that Logan wants him fucking dead.

Terror makes it hard for Julian to think, to breathe, to fix this. But he has to, and fast. Because Logan is very obviously overpowering Aaron right now. He grips the front of Aaron’s shirt and slams him against a brick wall, and even from a distance, Julian hears Aaron’s grunt of pain. Then, Logan delivers a crushing blow to his face, and blood immediately comes gushing out of Aaron’s nose, painting the lower half of his face a dark crimson color.

Logan doesn’t stop—his fist connects with Aaron’s face again, and again, and again.

Julian has always cowered away from violence. At the sight of blood or the sharp scent of iron, his mind goes to many different places, and most of those memories involve Logan. He’s always been one to tremble, one to cry so much until tears make everything blurry, until his eyes are too puffed up to see anything. He’s always been quick to surrender as soon as Logan lands the first punch, has always been one to beg for mercy as soon as Logan draws the first drop of blood.

But now, it’s not Julian who’s enduring Logan’s wrath. It’s Aaron—his complete opposite, a man who’s probably never experienced anything but kindness his entire life. It explains why Aaron is how he is—only a person who grew up in a completely gentle, loving environment would be as good as Aaron. He’s not meant for this—for violence, for pain—this all belongs to Julian’s world. Somewhere along the way, Julian fucked up and tainted Aaron’s pure world with his own filth, but it doesn’t change the fact that Aaron deserves none of this. 

He knows this, which is why Julian will die before anything happens to Aaron on his watch.

With a sort of calm he’s never felt before, Julian walks toward the car. The shakiness in his limbs has disappeared somehow, and while the back of his head still smarts from the fall he took earlier, his head is surprisingly clear. 

Right now, he doesn’t feel weak. He’s not scared. He has a goal in mind—one of the most important goals he’ll probably ever have in his life—and every part of him is working hard to get it done. 

Time feels like it’s crawling, though he knows he’s moving quickly—because in the blink of an eye, he’s leaning into Logan’s car and opening the compartment. It’s where he knows Logan likes to keep a spare gun.

The pistol feels heavier than he expected. It’s cold to the touch, but there’s a comfort to it that he can’t explain. Perhaps it’s the fact that, for a change, he’s not on the receiving end of a gun barrel. For once, he’s the one with a weapon in his hands.

It’s quiet. Usually, his mind is a chaotic maelstrom, but now, it’s nothing but razor-sharp focus as he pulls the pistol close to his chest and checks the chamber to see if it’s loaded. Once he confirms that it is, he pulls back the slide, cocking the pistol with a sharp click.

Logan has Aaron pinned to the ground, looming over him as he rains down punch after punch. He’s a bit slower now, clearly having grown tired, but his hits still land with loud thumps that make blood rush to Julian’s ears. 

Aaron’s trying to bring his forearms up to block Logan’s fists, but he’s clearly way too out of it for it to do much of anything. His chest rises and falls rapidly, his face a mess of blood and sweat. Julian can hardly see his face beneath it all, but he takes comfort in knowing Aaron’s still breathing—and he’ll make sure it stays that way.

Julian lifts the gun with both hands and takes a deep breath. Logan is turned away from him, his back heaving as he lands another punch. As though he feels Julian’s gaze on him, Logan turns his head to the side and meets his eyes.

Without breaking eye contact, Julian aims right for his head and pulls the trigger.

Chapter Text

Julian remembered every detail of that night.

He got home from school, walked into the kitchen, and found his mother sprawled on the ground. She was unresponsive, looking pale and bluish around the lips, and her skin was cold to the touch. If it weren’t for her shallow breathing, Julian would’ve thought he just stumbled upon his mother’s corpse.

He knew his mom was an addict. But it got worse following Dad’s suicide. Julian constantly worried himself sick when she wouldn’t return to the house for days on end. And on the rare occasion that she did return, she wasn’t herself. She was all sharp words, icy glares, and delicate skin and bones. She hardly looked at Julian, hardly cared about anything if she couldn’t shoot it up her arm and take her to a whole new place. Anywhere away from the hell that their life had become. 

Julian barely ate anymore. He still went to school, if only just to get out of their empty yet suffocating house, but he wasn’t very well-liked at school, either. Too scrawny, too timid, his clothes always wrinkled and sometimes unwashed—he was everyone’s favorite target. He got picked on all the time, got called all kinds of names, but it was still leagues better than his home life. So he still went to school every day and let the bullies do whatever they wanted, because at least he wasn’t alone there.

With Emily having been gone for years, his father suddenly six feet underground, and his mother barely herself even on her best days, Julian thought he had hit rock bottom. 

But if there was one thing he would learn repeatedly throughout his life, it was that things could only ever get worse.

As he stared down at Mom’s frail body, he couldn’t believe he was once so naive to think that things would ever get better. He kneeled beside her, his hands trembling as he felt for her pulse. It was there, he could feel it—but only barely. His vision was getting hazy around the edges, nausea making it hard for him to think properly, but he forced himself to reach for his phone and call for help.

“My mom—my mom overdosed. She takes heroin. Y-you have to help her. I don’t know what to do. Please come help her.”

The ambulance arrived a few minutes later, and it all felt like he was watching everything from afar. The paramedics sat him down to ask him questions about Mom—all of which he answered well enough but couldn’t really remember—all while she was strapped onto a stretcher and carried out of the house.

They encouraged him to accompany his mother to the hospital, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He felt like one wrong move would have him coming apart at the seams, and he’d rather break down alone, on his own where no one could see him. So he lied and told them that his dad was coming home and he’d rather wait for him so they could go to the hospital together. They believed him. 

Eventually, the paramedics left with the ambulance carrying his mother. As the red and blue lights faded into the distance, the house returned to darkness.

He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, staring at the dimness that had become way too comfortable in their home. He forced himself to sit on the couch, not really sure what to do. He knew he should follow Mom to the hospital and make sure she was okay, but there was bone-deep exhaustion inside him that made the mere task of standing and walking to the car absolutely impossible. 

Taking a deep breath, he told himself he’d figure it out. He’d take a nap, force some food into his system, and then he’d figure it out. Like he always did.

In the meantime, he had to believe that Mom was alright. She’s going to live, he chanted in his head. It was half a prayer and half a demand. She’s going to live.

It was the only thing that kept him going. Mom was the only family he had left. Dad died, Emily left—without her, what would he do? He was sixteen, mourning his father despite his faults, missing his sister despite her so easily abandoning him and lying to his face about coming back to get him.

The heaviness in his chest had him curling into a ball on the couch, pulling his knees to his chest and hiding his face in the box of his arms. I hate them. I hate them all.  

He didn’t care that it made him a terrible son and brother. He fucking hated them. They could’ve been happy as a family if only they had tried. But they were all so fucking weak. Dad with his gambling addiction and selfishness, Mom with her heroin addiction, Emily with her stupid boyfriend and baby. It was so easy for them to put Julian to the side, for him to just be an afterthought. 

Did he deserve it? Why the fuck did they do it so easily, then?

He didn’t realize he was crying until he heard his own sobs echoing a deep pain that had been building up for months. For years. He just felt so fucking tired. 

At some point he probably fell asleep, because he was suddenly woken up by someone pounding on the door, hard enough to make the walls shake. He jolted, blinking away the blurriness in his eyes. He was still disoriented, his bones feeling impossibly heavy, but he forced himself to stand.

“HARPER! OPEN THE DOOR!”

The deep, threatening voice made chills run down Julian’s spine. In an instant, he was much more alert. With his heart in his throat, he slowly backed away from the door, desperately trying to make sense of who might be standing outside at this hour.

“We know you’re in there!” a man’s voice taunted. 

Julian could hear several footsteps, meaning there were many of them out there. It made a wave of fear wash over him, strong enough to make him freeze in his spot by the wall.

“We had a deal,” said another voice. “Either you’re a fucking idiot or you’ve got balls of steel to try and break it.” There was a thunderous bang against the door. "Open the fucking door! I'm not going to ask again!"

Julian felt himself start to hyperventilate. He had never been in a situation like this before in his life. Mom and Dad fought a lot, so he was used to yelling and screaming and even violence sometimes, but these were strangers. And whoever they were, they were furious. 

With trembling hands, he reached for his phone and dialed 911. But just as he brought the phone to his ear, the sharp crack of a gunshot rang out, making him recoil so sharply that the phone flew from his hand and skittered across the floor.

“What the fuck,” Julian breathed out in disbelief, feeling sweat beading on his forehead as his heart pounded painfully in his chest. 

There was another deafening gunshot, followed by a round of laughter, and Julian had never been more terrified in his entire life. He brought his hands up to his ears to block the noise out as he tried to find his phone, but it was hard to see in the dark, and his shallow breaths were making it impossible to think clearly. 

“Alright.” There was no more taunting in the man’s voice—just a dangerous, calm coldness that made the hairs on Julian's arms stand up. “You’ve been warned.” 

With a sudden, violent crash, the wooden door splintered and flew open as someone kicked it in. Julian gasped, his eyes landing on four large silhouettes standing at the door, their faces hidden by the shadows.

Fuck. 

Julian let himself freeze in terror for a precious second, and then he was on his feet, darting toward the kitchen where the backdoor was. Immediately, he heard deep voices and heavy footsteps close behind—way too close—

A rough hand clamped onto his arm, yanking him backward with such force that Julian was certain his shoulder had popped out of its socket. He let out a pitiful cry, the backdoor tantalizingly close, just a few steps away.

But he never made it out. The stranger grunted and yanked Julian back into the living room. He pulled Julian even closer toward him, the man’s chest to Julian’s back, and then wrapped a thick forearm tightly across Julian’s shoulders while the other arm held him around the waist. In this position, Julian couldn’t move, much less escape from his hold. 

“We got a runner,” the man holding him said, chuckling.

Julian smelled gunpowder, cigarette smoke, and sweat. His heart beat so fast he was certain it would give out. Three men stood before him, all of them seemingly towering over him. It was the one in the middle that stood out to him most. 

He was the tallest, the largest, and there was something in the way his eyes raked down Julian’s body that put him on edge like never before. Those eyes had goosebumps rising all over Julian’s skin, his stomach tightening in a way that made him want to puke.

The man leaned down so they were eye to eye. Julian couldn’t help his tears, couldn’t stop himself from shaking so badly that these men could probably see it clear as day, even despite the dark. Fuck, he felt like he was going to piss himself from terror. These men had guns. They broke into his home. And now, they had Julian. They were twice his size, stronger and faster, and most of all, they were looking for violence. They could do whatever the hell they wanted, they could kill him right now, tear him limb from limb, and they would get away with it, because no one out there would look for Julian. At least, not until it was too late.

He was alone.

“You’re Harper’s son?” the man asked, his eyes glinting with dangerous curiosity. “What’s your name?”

Julian was convinced he’d faint from the unadulterated terror that ran through him. His vision got even hazier, his limbs trembled uncontrollably, and he was fucking sure he could hear his own teeth chattering from how much he was shaking. He didn’t even know it was possible to feel this much fear. 

They were going to kill him. 

“Where’s your daddy, hmm?” said one of the other men. “We just wanna talk.”

The edges of his vision darkened, and Julian knew his body was about to shut down on him. Part of him welcomed it—hoped it would come sooner, even—if only because it would allow him to escape this nightmare for even the briefest moment.

But then the man in front of him brought a gun up to Julian’s face. Bone-chilling fear clawed at his insides. The man watched him closely with what looked like a half-smile, delicately dragging the tip of the gun’s cold barrel across Julian’s neck, the hinge of his jaw, and his cheek, before spending a particularly long time tracing Julian’s lower lip with it. 

Julian’s breath quickened as the feeling of dread threatened to drown him.

“Answer the question.”

“H-he’s dead,” Julian forced out, his voice nothing more than a pathetic squeak. “Dad i-is dead. Please, sir. My f-father killed himself. He’s not here.”

“Fucking knew it!” the man holding Julian yelled, making him flinch. “That fucking bitch. I knew from the start! That fucker was a coward, never even looked us in the eye!”

“I told ya we shouldn’t’ve trusted him,” said the third man. 

The man holding a gun to Julian’s face didn’t say anything right away. He narrowed his eyes at Julian, and in response, Julian didn’t move. He didn’t dare breathe while the man watched him so closely. Unexpectedly, the man put his gun away and grabbed Julian's face with a large hand. His grip was hard enough to bruise.

“Your name,” the man commanded.

“Julian,” he said. Even to his ears, it sounded like a plea. He felt fresh tears drop onto his cheeks. “I’m telling the truth. Please, s-sir. Please.”

He leaned away, a smirk appearing on his face. “You beg so prettily, Julian.”

The men started chuckling. The sound was almost eerie. Every instinct inside Julian told him he was in the presence of merciless predators, and that if he didn’t find a way out of this, he would be their perfect prey. 

“Harper’s dead, huh? Killed himself.” The man huffed out a laugh. “He owes us a debt. How are you going to pay for that, Julian?”

A debt? Julian’s mouth opened in shock. They expected him to pay for that? Did that mean they wouldn’t kill him? 

Ignoring the dryness in his mouth, he croaked out, “H-how much?”

The men laughed again, but this time it was even louder. Mocking. Julian shrunk under their heavy gazes. Weakly, he said, “I can find a way, sir, I promise I’ll think of a way. Please.”

“Oh, I can think of a few ways you can pay us back.”

The man was uncomfortably close, forcing Julian to turn his head to the side. This was apparently the wrong thing to do because he painfully gripped Julian’s face and turned his head so they were face to face. His dark eyes darted all over Julian’s face—his eyes, cheeks, nose, and then they lingered on… Julian’s lips?

“What do you say?” he whispered, his voice sickeningly sweet.

Realization hit him like a truck. Julian suddenly felt dirty under the stranger’s gaze. He squirmed against their hold, but he was hardly able to move at all. Could he…? Did he mean what Julian thought he was saying?  

No. No.

This couldn't be happening.

He couldn’t help it—he cried again, tasting the saltiness of his tears on his lips. The way the man was looking at him, how his harsh grip had loosened a bit so he could rub his rough thumb all over Julian’s wet bottom lip—

Julian was going to throw up. He had never felt more sick in his life. 

“Please, please don’t, ” Julian wasn’t thinking anymore. God, this man was going to rape him. Maybe all four of them were. Rape him and then kill him. Panic clouded his mind, disgust making his stomach churn as the man continued looking at him with those disgusting eyes, attempting to press his thumb into Julian’s mouth. The other men just stood there, laughing as though this was entertaining to them. Then, the man’s other hand found his thigh, climbing up, lifting the bottom of his shirt so he could touch Julian’s bare hip—

The fear was paralyzing. Julian was frozen from head to toe, staring up at the man who seemed to be enjoying the way Julian cried and trembled far too much. 

“Shhh…” He smiled when Julian started letting out sobbing breaths. “Be good, Julian. This doesn’t have to hurt.”

Don’t you dare touch me, Julian thought. I’ll kill you.

A part of him remained untainted by the terror coursing through his veins, a defiant side of him that knew he didn’t deserve any of this. That part of him didn’t want to beg or plea—it wanted to fight back, wanted to draw blood before they could even try to put their hands on him. He knew he couldn’t stop them—he was no match for four grown men with guns—but that didn’t mean they got to walk away like nothing happened. 

I’ll kill you, Julian repeated in his head as the man dragged him into his childhood bedroom, chuckling as Julian screamed and kicked and tried everything to get away. It was no use—he knew it was no use, but he didn’t stop fighting, not even when a part of him knew the man was taking perverse satisfaction in the way he struggled and cried. It would still be worse to just lie down and take it—Julian wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he just let the man have his way with him and did nothing.

I’ll kill you, Julian yelled, again and again, his voice cracking as he experienced pain he had never felt before in his life. A kind of torture that no one should ever be subject to. The man outright enjoyed his agony, his eyes glinting in the dark as he loomed over Julian, rough hands leaving finger-shaped bruises in places no one’s ever touched Julian before. 

Julian didn’t meet that man again until a few months later when he started getting regulars at the whorehouse. At first, Julian didn’t realize that Logan was the same man who’d been the first to so brutally destroy him that night. He didn’t realize it until he was already willingly sharing an apartment with Logan, sharing meals, sharing a bed.

Yet, he remembered the promise he had made. He remembered it all too well.

I’ll kill you.

☾

The gun kicks back sharply into Julian’s shoulder as he fires the first bullet. 

A splash of red appears somewhere on Logan’s torso; the bullet struck close, but not close enough. As Julian tries to re-aim for another shot, Logan swiftly yanks Aaron to his feet and stands behind him—Logan’s chest to Aaron’s back—with Logan’s hands clutching the side of Aaron’s neck and the back of his head.

“I’ll snap his fucking neck,” Logan spits, his eyes glinting murderously. “I’ll kill him, Julian. You know I will.”

Julian keeps the gun pointed at Logan, the temptation to blindly shoot at him particularly strong, but he knows it’s too risky. Trying to shoot Logan in this position means putting Aaron directly at risk since Logan is practically using Aaron as a shield. That fucking bastard.

“He has nothing to do with any of this,” Julian says, his voice surprisingly steady. 

He meets Aaron’s eyes and finds him conscious, at least. One of his eyes is nearly swollen shut, the skin around it red and bloody. The neckline of the shirt he’s wearing is also stained with blood, his arms covered with scrapes and cuts. His chest rises and falls rapidly, and something about his unsteady gaze tells Julian he might be concussed. Julian’s chest aches at the sight of him, an overwhelming swell of guilt and rage twisting up inside him and making his hands tremble where they hold the pistol.

“You were ready to kill me for him,” Logan seethes. Even from where Julian stands, he can see that Logan's grip on Aaron is crushing, the whiteness of his knuckles betraying the force behind it.

“I’ve wanted to kill you for a long fucking time,” Julian says feverishly. “He has nothing to do with any of this. Let. Him. Go.”

“You forget who you belong to,” Logan says. “I’m the only reason you get to—”

“You’ve taken everything from me!” Julian’s voice cracks as he yells, his hands trembling around the pistol. The tears blurring his eyes make it even harder to see. “You want me to be grateful to you? You’re fucking insane.”

“See, this is what I mean.” Logan lets out a humorless laugh. “You’ve become reckless now, Julian. Trying to shoot me. Talking back to me like this. Have you forgotten about your mom? Your sister? Your sister’s kid? You’d choose this man over them? Because I swear to God if you don’t put that fucking gun down, it’s not just you who’ll pay for the consequences. It’s everyone you care about. And I’ll start with your little boyfriend right here.”

Julian wishes he could just kill Logan and everything will go away. That burning urge has always been there, but he has always pushed it aside because he’s smarter than that. He knows it’s not that simple. Logan deserves the most gruesome death, yes, and Julian has fantasized about being the one to give that to him plenty of times, but that’s just in his head. He may dream about watching the light leave Logan’s eyes, may fantasize about what Logan’s unmoving corpse might look like, but he knows he has to wait for the right time. This is what he’s been telling himself for years.   

Logan’s death won’t be a quiet one. He’ll have men hunting down whoever did it, taking revenge on the culprit the only way they know how—merciless violence. Even if Julian had a clear shot to kill him now, then what? Doing that means he’ll have a target on his back his entire life. Not just him—Mom and Emily and Rose, too. 

All he knows is that he wants to save Aaron. He grabbed the gun because Logan was seconds away from beating Aaron’s head into the asphalt. It’s not like Julian had a grand scheme to solve all of his problems in one fell swoop—he was just acting on instinct. And at that moment, his instinct told him to do whatever it took to save Aaron from Logan. He doesn’t regret following it.

“Put the gun down,” Logan says slowly. Threateningly. “Or I’ll kill him.”

Logan isn’t the type to bluff.

He looks at Aaron and finds him already watching him. Despite his battered and blood-covered face, his eyes steadily meet Julian’s. With just a look, Julian tries to convey how sorry he is for everything and how he wishes he could turn back time and do things right. He knows it’s not enough—no form of apology will ever be. 

Logan tightens his grip on Aaron’s neck; all it would take is one strong and sure twist and there would be no undoing that. Aaron would die. 

Julian can’t let that happen. The whole point of all this is to keep Aaron alive—if it means surrendering to Logan once again and going home with him like nothing happened, at least for the meantime, then so be it.

Julian will have to kill him some other day.

“Okay,” Julian breathes out, forcing himself to lower the gun. It’s one of the hardest things he’s ever had to do. “I’m putting it on the ground.”

The pistol lands with a sharp clink. Julian looks up and finds both Logan and Aaron watching him closely. “Let Aaron go now.” 

Logan merely stares at him, his face unreadable for a few tense moments, and then he harshly shoves Aaron to the side, sending him sprawling to the ground. “Looks like it’s your lucky day.”

Not wasting another second, Julian rushes to Aaron. He kneels next to him on the asphalt, letting out a cry of relief now that he's close to him again.

“Oh my God, Aaron,” Julian breathes out, and it’s not long until his quick breaths turn into ugly, heaving sobs. He takes Aaron’s bloody face between his hands, wiping it away as best as he can with the sleeves of his shirt. “I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry. Are you okay—?”

“Are you hurt?” Aaron cuts in roughly, peering up at Julian. His face looks rough and swollen, covered with cuts and bruises. “Let’s get out of here. C’mon.”

Aaron gets on his feet with Julian’s help, and though he tries to hide it, Julian can tell he’s hurt. Aaron clutches the side of his ribs as he limps, dragging Julian with him toward the apartment building.

Julian’s heart feels heavy at the realization that Aaron wants Julian to come with him. That after everything, Aaron still wants to protect him.

“Aaron, wait—”

“What?!” Aaron yells, making Julian flinch. “What? Do you not realize that that man’s a fucking psychopath? I’m getting my phone and calling the fucking cops!”

Despite his injuries, Aaron’s grip on Julian is strong and sure. They’re right in front of his apartment building now, so close to the entrance. Aaron is practically running and dragging Julian along with him. 

Aaron looks around the street and up the building, eyes almost manic. “Where the fuck is everyone? Did nobody hear the gunshots?”

Julian wants to go with him. He wants to be the one to patch him up and help treat his wounds. He wants to so fucking badly. But he knows it won’t end well. As long as Julian is with Aaron, Aaron will be in danger. 

Fuck, Aaron nearly died just now. If Julian hadn’t been quick enough to get his hands on that gun, Logan could’ve very well finished him off. Julian wasn’t able to kill Logan—couldn’t do it just yet—but it was enough of a distraction that he stopped his attack on Aaron. 

“Enough.” It’s Logan. He’s standing a few feet away, blood stains visible on his shirt. In his hand is—

A gun. Logan picked up the gun Julian dropped. A sharp jolt of terror seizes his chest. 

“Aaron, fucking go,” Julian hisses, forcefully pushing Aaron toward the entrance out of desperation. “We’ll talk later, just go. Please, I’m begging you—!”

“You think I’ll just—”

“He has a gun, he’ll kill you!” Julian wants to take Aaron by the shoulders and shake him. Did he not just get beat so badly that he can barely walk? Does he not care about his safety? Is he not afraid of guns?

“I’m not going anywhere.” Even after a beating, after nearly having his neck snapped, he still wants to be a hero. 

Fuck being a hero. Julian will figure this shit out himself—he just needs Aaron out of the way. With a surge of energy he didn’t know he still had,  Julian shoves him as hard as he can. “JUST FUCKING GO!” 

There’s laughter. Goosebumps prickle along Julian’s skin, a cold dread creeping through him at the sound of Logan’s laugh. 

“You really got this one wrapped around your finger, huh?” Logan takes a few steps closer, casually looking down at the gun in his hand.  

“Julian, let’s go,” Aaron says urgently, getting a hold of Julian’s wrist again. Julian can see how his breathing picks up. Despite his obvious wariness, he tells Logan, “I’m going to make sure you end up in jail.”

Logan shakes his head, smiling. It’s chilling. “Alright. Give him back.”

“He’s not coming with you—”

“Okay, okay,” Julian cuts him off. Then, he forcefully snatches his arm away from Aaron’s grip, harsh enough that Aaron becomes a bit unsteady on his feet. “Aaron. Stay out of this. As soon as we leave, call someone and go somewhere else.”

Then, he turns around and marches straight toward Logan. All he can hear is the frantic pounding of his heart. Logan doesn’t acknowledge him right away—he continues to stare at Aaron, and Aaron glares right back. 

“Logan,” Julian tries, “let’s go—”

Logan looks at him, and the sheer fury in his eyes makes Julian’s blood run cold. 

“I own you, Julian. Remember that.”

Before Julian can even make sense of those words, Logan raises the gun and fires, the shot ringing out deafeningly. In the blink of an eye, the bullet finds its target.

The world goes quiet.

He hears the ringing in his ears slowly go away, and then it’s Aaron’s pained gasp that brings him back. It’s Aaron’s pained grunt as he clutches at his stomach, his shirt progressively getting swallowed up by the blood leaking from his wound. 

His gunshot wound.

Aaron has just been shot. By Logan.

The cry that leaves Julian’s mouth doesn’t sound human. It’s raw, guttural, torn straight from the depths of his chest. He runs toward him—to save him—but then someone grabs him from behind and bodily drags him backward. Drags him away from Aaron.

“AARON!”

It all happened so fast. Julian’s vision blurs with tears as Aaron’s curled-up figure on the ground gets smaller and smaller. Julian kicks and screams and uses every last bit of strength he has left, and for a moment it works; it slows Logan down and he struggles to keep Julian from slipping from his grasp.

“Aaron!” Julian cries out. He’s still there—he sees Aaron near the side of the building, but he’s not moving anymore. “SOMEBODY HELP US!”

Over the thundering in his ears, he hears it—the sound of a police siren coming closer. Someone must've called the cops after all. Julian feels hopeful now, so he fights even harder to escape Logan's grip.

Logan curses, and in response, grabs a fistful of Julian’s hair and brutally slams his head into something hard and solid. Immediately, the world darkens around him, sounds and colors all swirling into something unrecognizable.

“See what you made me fucking do?” It’s Logan’s voice. Julian’s vision is blurry, his consciousness coming and going, but he can see Logan driving, his knuckles white where it’s tightly clutching the wheel. 

The sound of sirens is slowly fading away. 

“Since when are we shooting random people on the street?” It sounds like one of Logan’s men—Ricky, maybe—and he sounds distressed. His voice is muffled. 

“Just fucking take care of it! It was to teach Julian a lesson.”

“Shooting some kid as a lesson? Yeah, we have a few cops on our payroll, but shit like this gives those other pigs a reason to be all up on our asses!”

“I don’t give a fuck what you think. Just call Foster and fill him in. He’ll clean it up for us like always.”

“Fucking hell, Logan. You’re out of your goddamn mind. And it’s always your little boy toy that’s making you do stupid shit.”

“Shut your mouth.”

“You gotta get your shit together or I swear…”

The voices fade in and out. He’s not sure how much time has passed, but there’s an insistent heaviness in his chest that just won’t go away. Every part of him hurts, from his sore muscles, dry mouth, and aching skull—all the way to his heavy bones.  

It takes way too much effort to bring himself to open his eyes. He blinks several times, his head feeling too large and heavy for his body. Slowly, he recognizes where he is—he’s in Logan’s room. His bed. Through the window, he can tell that it’s already dark out. When he pushes himself into a sitting position, he catches movement out of the corner of his eyes.

Logan’s sitting on one of the armchairs near the window, his eyes set on Julian. Upon seeing his face, everything comes rushing back to him, the events of the previous night slamming into him like a violent torrent.

“You’re awake.”

Julian doesn’t let him say anything else—he launches himself right at him, tackling Logan to the ground with a kind of animalistic rage he’s never felt before. He must’ve taken Logan by surprise, because he responds to the attack a few seconds late. It’s enough time for Julian to get his hands around Logan’s neck and squeeze, putting his entire weight into it.

“I should’ve killed you a long time ago,” Julian spits, his voice raw and rough and unrecognizable. 

Not a second later, Logan has them flipped over so he’s the one hovering over Julian. Julian gasps as he’s violently slammed to the floor, the world spinning around him momentarily. 

Logan’s gaze is intense. “And here I thought we could talk this through—”

“You shot him! I’ve been good, I’ve been so fucking good, so why did you—!”

“HEY!” Logan slaps him hard across the face, making him bite his tongue and taste iron in his mouth. “You have some guts, don’t you? You tried to kill me. I killed that fucker because you need to understand that everything you do has consequences. You hear me? You forced my hand. If you hadn’t been sneaking around behind my back in the first place, none of this would’ve happened. From the very start, I told you, you have to be obedient, or you’ll get what you deserve.”

“What?” Julian feels himself start to tremble. “What do you mean you killed him? He’s not dead. I-I saw him, he was still—”

“Well, he’s dead now.”

He feels like his entire chest might collapse. “No. No. You’re a fucking liar. He’s not dead. He’s not dead. Aaron’s alive.”

Logan stares down at him, a shadow flickering across his face. “I had Ricky finish him off. Can’t have any loose ends, can we?”

He thinks of Aaron’s bright smile, the way his eyes always sparkled with so much warmth. The way his voice got soft when he talked to Julian, or the way his touch was always gentle. He… he can’t be gone. It’s impossible. Julian can’t comprehend it.

Still, tears start to pool in his eyes. He feels them drop down the sides of his face, feels his chest start to heave with sobs he can’t hold back. He can’t be gone. Julian would know—he’d know. Aaron’s alive. Logan’s a psychopath, a liar who takes pleasure in other people’s suffering, so he’s obviously lying. He has to be.

“I didn’t want to have to do it. You know I like to lay low. But you forced my hand. Do you understand? But I’ll do it again if that’s what it takes to keep you good.” Logan leans closer, his breath fanning over Julian’s face. “Wanna know something? Emily’s actually in the city. We’ve been in contact with her for a while now—well, she thinks she’s been texting you. Anyway, she agreed to meet us. She says she can’t wait to see her little brother again.”

Another lie. This is another lie. Emily’s smarter than that—Julian called her, for God’s sake, warned her not to believe anything because it was too dangerous. 

“You’re lying,” Julian breathes out. 

Logan lets out an amused huff. “Think what you want. You’ll be meeting her soon enough. Maybe I’ll bring her here, too. Would you like that? You can give her some tips so she can get some clients, just like you.”

Julian shoves at his chest and slips out from under him, gritting his teeth when Logan only laughs at him. He stands, hands curling into fists at his sides. “What the fuck do you want from me?”

“I need you to apologize to me. I can’t trust you anymore after everything you’ve done. I’ve given you so much, and you threw it all back in my face. So I need you to apologize. I need you to show me that you’ll be good again. Maybe then you can convince me not to drag your sister into this. Maybe then, we can go back to the way things were.”

Julian has always known that Logan is a sadist. He’s always known that Logan gets off on other people’s pain, likes the illusion of power he feels from targeting someone weaker and smaller than him. But looking at him now—at how he switches so fast between fury to this calm, collected man who fully believes he’s the one who deserves an apology, who deserves to be thanked despite everything he’s done to Julian…

He doesn’t think Logan does this to anyone else. Not like the way he so thoroughly plays with Julian’s head—no, only Julian gets that treatment. For some reason, the lust he felt for Julian from the very first time he saw him has turned into whatever this is. Now, he’s controlling, possessive, and fucking obsessed with making Julian’s life hell. Enjoys that he can manipulate Julian like this. He loves that, at the end of the day, he’ll have Julian eating out of his hand, begging for scraps, and doing whatever he’s told to do in the name of protecting the people important to him.

There is no reasoning with this man. From the very beginning, it was never even a possibility. 

Logan takes a step toward him, his face holding a false gentleness. He lifts a hand and swipes the rough pad of his thumb over Julian’s cheek, his dark eyes trailing all over Julian’s features and lingering on his lips. 

Julian looks at him and sees Aaron’s bloody, beaten form. Sees Aaron clutching his gunshot wound, and hears the pained gasp that left his lips. He looks at Logan and sees a possible, terrible future for Emily—a life forced into prostitution like Julian, slowly losing semblance of who she is after every night. He thinks of Helen and how she’ll always be used as leverage to force them into doing whatever these men want. 

It’s an endless cycle. Will it ever end?

“So? What will it be?” Logan asks.

Julian knows he should play the submissive boy and be exactly what Logan wants him to be. He managed to do it all these years despite how much he loathed Logan. But—fucking hell. He just watched Aaron get shot with his own eyes, and he doesn’t even know where he is or how he’s doing. Logan just told him he and his men had somehow tricked Emily into coming here and are planning to ruin her life like they did to him. He cannot, for the life of him, even for one fucking second, pretend like he feels anything but utter disgust and revulsion for this monster.

So, Julian lifts his chin defiantly, looks directly into his eyes with a gaze searing with hatred, and spits directly in his face.

Whatever false facade Logan was wearing shatters, slipping away like a mask. His expression turns cold, and then a steely look settles in his eyes. “I guess you haven’t learned your lesson yet.” He wipes Julian’s spit with his hand. “But alright. We’ll have it your way.” 

Logan steps back. “Ricky! Come in here.”

Ricky pushes the door open. He looks almost irritated. “What is it?”

“Take Julian back to Benson. That’s where he’ll be staying from now on. And tell the boys to have all the fun they want with him—they deserve it.”

Julian goes cold all over. Terror grips him at the mere thought of getting shoved back with the other prostitutes and locked up in that house where there’s barely any food, where all he can smell is sex and sweat, where girls die left and right from overdosing, where the new prostitutes get younger and younger each year—

“Wait,” Julian chokes out, realization finally settling in. He won’t be able to go out anymore—won’t be able to visit Caffeinated, won’t be able to talk to Aaron, won’t get information on Emily until it’s too late— “Wait! Logan—”

Ricky grabs his wrist and drags him to the door. Julian twists around desperately, meeting Logan’s cold, soulless eyes. 

“Prove yourself to me again and maybe we can go back to the way things were,” Logan says. Behind the harshness of his expression, Julian catches the smallest trace of regret there. "I warned you, Julian.”

Feeling his entire world collapse around him, Julian catches one last glimpse of Logan's face before the door slams shut in his face. 

☾

Days pass by excruciatingly slow in the whorehouse. 

Julian's room is a small box with a tiny window high up on the wall, nearly touching the ceiling. The bed sheets are coarse and marred by stubborn, permanent stains that no detergent can ever seem to remove. His clients are faceless men of different sizes but similarly rough, sweaty hands that grab at every inch of his skin. 

He always stares up at the small window above where the slightest bit of sunlight pours through. Each day, he waits for all of it to end.

He's barely given any food or time to rest before the next client comes in. Julian's not sure if he's been here for a week or a month, but everything feels sluggish and murky, as though he's trapped underwater, the world around him extremely distorted.

In the small cramped space of his room that reeks of sex, Julian thinks of Emily and his mom and hopes they're safe. He thinks of Logan and wishes he'd take Julian back so he can reclaim the illusion of freedom he used to have. He thinks of Aaron, convinces himself he’s still alive and recovering, and replays memories of kind smiles and soft kisses to block out the pain he feels when it becomes too much.

He floats and drowns. It’s a never-ending cycle. This time around, he has accepted the fact that this is his reality. No more play pretends and double lives. No more daydreaming of his ideal self. No more warmth, kindness, and gentleness that he never deserved in the first place.

Julian gives in, letting the cold weight of the truth settle over him once and for all.

Chapter Text

PART II

At Heaven’s Door

𖤓

There are soft fingers running through his hair, accompanied by a gentle humming so deeply familiar that it immediately puts him at ease. He’s warm, and he’s lying on something soft, but there’s an insistent ache all over his body that’s hard to ignore.

Aaron forces his eyes open, blinking at the bright lights that immediately assault his eyes. His face feels inexplicably bloated, and his mouth is impossibly dry. His limbs are as heavy as lead and there’s a constant beeping sound echoing in the room. Groaning, he tries to get up.

“Ronnie?” 

At the sound of his mother’s voice, Aaron whips his head to the side—which he regrets immediately due to the sharp ache in his neck—but he ignores the discomfort and hurriedly pushes himself up into a seated position. 

Mom looks… well, disheveled is the first thing that comes to mind. Her dark hair streaked with grays is in a bit of disarray, and there are bags beneath her eyes. Her nose is red—something that only ever happens when she’s exposed to pollen. Or when she’s crying. 

“Mom?” he croaks out. “What are you doing here?”

The words make his throat ache. Absurdly, he feels like he’s swallowed a handful of sand and gargled it on the way down. 

“You’re awake. Here,” Mom says with a sniff, bringing a bottle of water to his mouth. 

As Aaron drinks, he looks around. It becomes apparent that he’s in a hospital room—the walls are depressingly white and the room is cramped. There’s a TV mounted on the opposite wall with the news playing, and on the desk beside the door is a collection of flowers, stuffed toys, and get-well-soon balloons. 

He does a double-take. Blinks a couple of times. Then, he looks down at himself and realizes he’s in a hospital gown with tubes attached to him. Now, when he looks back at Mom’s weary appearance, his heart drops to his stomach.

What the hell has he done this time?

The last time Mom picked him up from the hospital was when he was a freshman in college, overwhelmed by his newly acquired freedom. He made friends with some older Holton students, went out to drink with them, joined them back in their car, and then promptly found himself in a car accident. 

In his defense, he didn’t know the person driving was drunk—but Mom still gave him hell for it. Which was quite justified, because Aaron did end up with a broken bone or two. He had to wear a damn cast for a few weeks. 

Mom threatened to pull him out of Holton if he got involved in another incident, so Aaron was a model student from that point forward. Although if he did do some activities that Mom would frown upon—well, he at least made sure she never found out about them. 

Well, until now, apparently. 

“Mom,” Aaron starts, wincing a bit when the word grates against his throat, “whatever I did, I’m sorry—”

To his surprise, Mom drags him forward and wraps him up in a tight hug, pressing his face to her shoulder. Her familiar scent immediately calms him down, and he lets out a breath of relief. 

He supposes she isn’t that mad after all.

When she pulls away, there are fresh tear tracks on her cheeks. She takes his face in her trembling hands, and it’s only now that Aaron realizes just how devasted she looks. There’s just something about the way she’s looking at Aaron that tells him that this is serious—whatever it is. 

“Mom?” Aaron rests his hand on hers in an attempt to comfort her. But if anything, the touch only brings a new wave of tears to her eyes. “I’m sorry… I don’t remember what happened—”

“I nearly lost you,” Mom breathes out shakily. “You—God, Aaron. Steven called me yesterday, hysterical, telling me you’d been shot and you were in the hospital. I got here as soon as I could. You almost didn’t survive the surgery. If you hadn’t made it…”

Mom breaks down after that, her quiet tears turning into heaving sobs. Aaron’s so taken aback that for a moment, all he can do is watch as her entire body shakes. At a particularly loud sob, Aaron finally snaps back to himself and pulls his mom closer, letting her cry into his chest. 

He got shot. What? That makes no sense.

Aaron can be reckless, yes. Adding Steven to the equation makes him twice as careless, but surely not enough to get shot. He got shot? How and why in the world would he—

Like a punch in the gut, the memories hit him hard. The events flash before him rapidly: Julian’s frantic phone call, Aaron finding him distraught and covered in bruises, and them returning to Aaron’s place. Then, the whole incident with Julian’s roommate, Logan, a fight breaking out, the ear-splitting sound of a gun going off…

He feels it now as though it just happened—there’s an intense, searing pain blooming in his stomach, and when he looks down, he can imagine blood painting his torso bright red. The shock of it numbs the feeling at first, but once the adrenaline wears off, he feels the most extreme kind of pain he’s ever felt in his life. It makes him nauseous and leaves his head feeling weightless. 

Aaron remembers feeling the cold concrete cutting into his back after collapsing. Then, he recalls shakily pressing a hand to the wound, his stomach twisting at the warm, sticky feeling of his own blood. But even as his vision darkened at the edges and his consciousness gradually slipped away, he was only thinking of one thing.

Julian.

He jerks away from his mom. Julian. He’s—where the hell is he? How much time has passed since his confrontation with Logan? Logan must’ve taken Julian by now. Back to their apartment? They must be together, Julian is likely with him against his will—

“What is it? Are you okay?”

He feels his heart thundering painfully in his chest. The sudden onslaught of panic makes him feel dizzy. “Where’s my phone?”

She drags a sleeve-covered forearm across her face, drying her tears. “Your phone? I don’t have it.”

“Can I borrow your phone? Right now?”

Mom gives him a worried look, but she still opens her handbag and pulls out her phone. Before she can say anything, Aaron snatches it from her hand and shakily types in Julian’s number.

Yes, he has it memorized. Every single fucking digit. In any other scenario, he’d feel embarrassed, but now, he just feels beyond relieved that he knows his phone number by heart. He has read through their text messages enough times that he now has Julian’s contact info ingrained in the back of his eyelids. 

“C’mon.” Aaron bites his nail, his anxiety spiking the longer he hears a dial tone. He tries calling again, tries several more times, until Mom gently takes the phone from him with a sympathetic look.

“Why’s he not answering?” Aaron roughly rubs his face with his palms, feeling the urge to tear his hair out in frustration. “Mom. The man who shot me—he also hurts Julian. Julian needs our help. He must be so fucking scared right now. I have to reach him somehow—”

“Okay,” Mom says, making a placating gesture with her hands. “One of the nurses told me that the cops have gotten in touch with them earlier and will want to speak with you when you’re well enough to talk. So if Julian is in trouble, you can let them know.”

“No, you don’t understand. He needs help now. Like right now. That Logan guy’s a psycho, he’s been the one who’s been hurting Julian all this time and if we don’t do anything, something might happen and I can’t let—”

“Listen,” Mom cuts in firmly. She presses two palms against his shoulders to keep him seated, and it’s only then that Aaron realizes that he’s been trying to leave the bed. “I know. We’re going to help your friend. But you have to understand—you just got out of surgery. You’re not fully recovered yet. You can help Julian by letting the cops know what you know, but I need you to take care of yourself. Okay? Complications can still arise if you’re not careful.” She takes his hands, her teary gaze intense. “You nearly died. You nearly died, Aaron. Do you even understand that?”

Mom’s shaky, shattered voice puts a temporary pause on his whirring thoughts. He was shot, yes, and he nearly died from it. Objectively, he knows that’s horrible. He knows it will leave a lasting mark on him, and not just in the sense of a scar on his stomach. He knows he must’ve traumatized his mom so badly, and he feels terrible about it, alright? He really does.

But at the same time, all of that can wait. What can’t wait is Julian. It’s safe to assume that he’s with Logan now, and just the mere thought of him in the same vicinity with someone as violent and dangerous as that man makes Aaron want to throw all logic out the window and march out of this hospital room to find Julian himself.

“You’re no help to him if you’re not fully recovered,” Mom says as though she can hear his very thoughts. “I’ll tell the nurses to call the cops, and you can tell them everything. Alright? But I need you to look after yourself, too. We’ll listen to what the doctor says and follow their instructions to make sure you recover properly. Do you understand me?”

Aaron says nothing at first. There’s a buzzing beneath his skin, an urgent need to act immediately. He thinks back to when he saw Julian standing with some tall guy outside the apartment building, his eyes wide with terror as the man gripped his jaw. It took everything in him not to march right up to the man and knock him out in an instant. And the only reason he didn’t do it is because he was worried Julian would get caught up in the fight, and the last thing he wanted was for Julian to get hurt. 

He feels now what he felt then—a burning impulse to take Julian into his arms and away from whoever that man was. It’s much worse now that he knows the full extent of what that man—Logan—is capable of. Logan put his hands on Julian like it was nothing, and Julian just let him.

What in the world is Julian doing with scum like that? 

He looks to the side and stares out the window where the city sprawls, seemingly endless. Julian could be anywhere, could be hurt, could be calling for Aaron right now. There’s absolutely no telling what’s going on with him. 

And Aaron can’t be there for him. At least not yet.

What could he have done differently? 

The longer he knew Julian, the more Aaron suspected that he was going through something. Aaron isn’t the most observant person in the world, but even he caught the way Julian would unconsciously flinch away from sudden movements, the way he always seemed hesitant to speak. When they were out in public places, Julian stuck close to him, his grip firm and unyielding as though he was terrified of being left behind. Most of all, Julian always looked surprised whenever Aaron did anything nice for him, no matter how trivial. His eyes would light up, becoming wider than they already were, and sometimes, Julian even looked like he was holding back tears.

Fucking hell, the signs have always been there.  

Julian was always so tentative and soft-spoken, and while Aaron originally thought he was just shy and introverted, he never could’ve imagined how bad it really was. 

His vision blurs. He thinks of the way Julian clung to him when Aaron picked him up from the side of the hotel. He looked so small then—hunched in on himself, trying to hide his bruises, trembling while wearing nothing but a coat. The sound of his repressed cries—Aaron knows he will never forget them. He looked so beaten, so helpless, yet he turned to Aaron after what happened to him. He saw Aaron as someone he could trust, as someone who could protect him, and God, Aaron let him down. 

He let Julian down just when he needed him most. 

Aaron lets out a breath, and it comes out with a choked sob. He feels himself start to shake, his breath going shallow as his chest heaves with a sudden onslaught of tears. Fuck, he’s so scared. He’s so fucking terrified for Julian. He always knew Julian was hiding something, and he had always planned to slowly coax the truth out of him so he could help him. If he knew they were going to run out of time so quickly, he would’ve done things so differently.

“Oh, baby, it’s going to be alright,” Mom says softly, her voice tight. 

Aaron lets her hold him, lets himself feel like a ten-year-old again. He lets himself cry, just this once, for the heavy, jumbled mess that sits inside his chest. He’s never felt so lost. He’s gotten used to Julian just being a text or phone call away. He’s gotten used to seeing him every couple of days. Now, it’s like there’s a dark shadow hovering over him, amplifying his growing fear that something terrible—something irreversible—has happened to Julian.

Aaron wouldn’t be able to live with himself if anything like that happened.

“Mom,” Aaron forces between hitching breaths. “We need to help him.”

“I know. I know.”

“Julian needs me. Something bad might happen—”

“I know. We’re going to do everything we can to help him. Julian will be alright. I promise you.”

Aaron wants to believe her. He really, really does. 

“Everything will work out. Trust me. Everything will be okay.”

Those words aren’t as comforting as he wishes they were. Aaron wants to believe that he’s just overthinking this—that he’s just being his overprotective self, but he knows his gut feeling is true: Logan, a man who wields cruelty so effortlessly, is undoubtedly a threat to Julian’s safety.

He shot Aaron without a second thought. Who says he can’t do that to Julian, too?

Aaron gets lost in his own thoughts, his mind a tangled mess. He can’t think of anything else but Julian, can’t stop being worried sick about him, can’t stop going over every single thing he’s done the past couple of days and overanalyzing his every move. 

Mom lets him be, but she eventually brings him some food. He forces himself to eat despite his lack of appetite if only to ease the worry that’s clear on Mom’s face. Yet, he doesn’t stop calling Julian’s number all throughout, and he even sends a few texts just in case.

Hours must have passed already, and still, he hasn’t gotten any responses. He’s still staring at the phone screen, ignoring the heavy dread slowly settling in his stomach, when two uniformed men enter his hospital room. They introduce themselves as Officer Smith and Amak. 

“Mr. Delaney,” says Smith as the two officers take a seat beside his hospital bed, “we hope you’re feeling better.”

“I feel alright.” It’s true enough—there’s a distinct ache in the lower half of his torso where he knows the bullet struck, but it’s not so bad. His face also feels sore from multiple bruises and his left eye is swollen so badly he can’t really see out of it, but he’s alright. He suspects the pain will get worse once the pain meds fully wear off, but for now, everything’s fine. That’s something his future self will have to worry about. 

“Um, I’m a bit shaken, but I’m not really worried about me right now. I’m worried about my friend,” Aaron says.

“Yes, your mother told us a bit about him,” Amak says, giving his mother—who now stands at the foot of his bed—a polite nod. Amak looks to be the older one of the two officers, with graying temples and a slightly wrinkled smile. “It would be easier if we start with what happened to you, of course. Then we’ll talk about your friend. We don’t want to stress you out, especially so soon after your surgery, so take all the time you need to recall everything. We can always come back if it’s too much for you.”

“No, no. Thank you, but I’m really okay. I’d feel better if I told you guys what I know right away.”

“Works for us,” Smith flashes him a friendly smile. He pulls out a notepad and pen from the inside of his jacket and starts jotting something down. “Go on, son.”

Aaron takes a deep breath. He reminds himself that whatever information he tells the cops can help Julian, too. So, he thinks hard about everything that happened, making sure not to leave behind a single detail. 

“I suppose it started when Julian called me on Tuesday night. It was quite late, around 1 AM maybe, and he was crying. He sounded panicked. I picked him up from an alley beside the Belleview Hotel. He was—he was hysterical, had bruises all over his neck and face. He was just wearing a coat, barefoot. So I took him back to my apartment. He kept telling me he just got mugged, but I didn’t believe him. I knew there was more to it. I remember him telling me that he’d talk about what happened more in the morning, so I didn’t push for details. We just went to sleep.

“Then, I woke up. It was still dark, but I heard Julian leave the apartment. I got up and followed him downstairs where I found him talking to a guy I’d never seen before. Julian called him ‘Logan.’ He was tall—over 6 feet, muscular, and he looked like he was in his 40’s. He… Julian said Logan was his boyfriend.”

While Aaron initially felt a sharp sting of betrayal at that new piece of information, it was easy to conclude in the events that followed that Julian did not want to be in a relationship with that man. He was likely being forced to stay in what was clearly a toxic, abusive relationship. The mere thought of it, of the possibility that Julian has been dealing with that man for much longer than Aaron would like to think, makes Aaron curl his hands into fists.

“Can you tell us what happened next?”

Aaron takes a deep breath. “I think Julian and Logan live together, and Logan was trying to get him to come home. At first, Julian acted like he didn’t even know me. Now I know it was because he didn’t want me to get involved. But I didn’t take the hint. I… I confronted Logan. At that point, I was convinced—still am—that Logan was the reason Julian called me crying and beaten up. I think he’s the reason why Julian was always so skittish and secretive. I just knew the guy was bad news and I couldn’t let Julian go with him like that—especially not in Julian’s state.”

“You said you confronted him?”

“Yes. I think I accused him of being the one to hurt Julian. And then I tried to take Julian back to the apartment with me, but Logan grabbed him and Julian got hurt. I couldn’t help it—I threw the first punch. I can’t remember very well after that, but I remember Julian picking up a gun and trying to help me. I… and then at some point, Logan mentioned Julian’s mom and sister, I think. Said he’d hurt them. It’s how he got Julian to put the gun down. After that, everything happened so fast—I don’t really know exactly how I got shot. I just felt pain in my stomach, and then I realized Logan shot me.”

“Is there anything else you remember? Any other relevant information that can help us find Logan?”

Aaron thinks for a moment. “As I mentioned, I think Logan and Julian live together. I used to drop Julian off at a 7-Eleven store on Cypress Street. He wouldn’t let me drop him off directly at his place, but I always assumed he lived nearby. Maybe just a couple blocks away.”

Smith and Amak exchange looks that Aaron can’t read. Then, Amak says, “You said Logan was over 6 feet, in his 40’s. Any other physical descriptions you can think of? Race? Hair color? Something easily identifiable, like a tattoo, a scar?”

Aaron slowly shakes his head. “He might’ve had tattoos on his arm, but I can’t remember what they look like. Sorry. He’s white, I’m pretty sure. Black hair.”

“If we showed you some pictures, do you think you can identify him?”

“Yes. Definitely.”

“You’re doing great, son,” Smith says. “You’ve mentioned your friend Julian. Can you give us his last name and tell us what he looks like?”

His throat suddenly feels tight with emotion. He looks down at his hands, takes a few breaths, and licks his lips. “I don’t know his last name. He doesn’t have social media and he’s always been a bit private, secretive even, so I didn’t really push. I just thought he’d eventually come around and he’d be the one to open up to me when he’s ready. But I can definitely tell you about his appearance. Um, he has dark brown hair. Curly hair. Around 5'6" and he’s nineteen. He’s also a student at Holton. He mentioned that he’s taking up Journalism.”

“That’s good. We’ll take note of that,” Amak says. 

“You have to help him.” Aaron can hear the shakiness and desperation in his own voice. “I’ve been trying to call him but he’s not answering. Logan was really furious—he could hurt him. He might already be hurt.”

“We’ll look into it.” Smith’s pen scrapes noisily across his notepad. “Is there anything else you think you can share with us?”

He swallows. After a moment, he shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Alright. If you do remember something, give us a call.” Amak hands him a card. “Every detail can help us identify and track down the suspect. In the meantime, stay vigilant, alright? Try not to go to places by yourself just yet. If you notice anything suspicious, or if you feel like you’re being followed, contact us right away.”

Aaron’s not reassured. At all. He knows they’ll tell him whatever he wants to hear: that they’ll prioritize this case and that they’ve got their best men working on it. That Logan will be found and locked behind bars in no time. But it’s not enough. Until Aaron can see Julian in the flesh, safe and unhurt, he won’t be satisfied.

There’s that burning urge again—the insistent need to rip out the wires attached to his skin and leave this room so he can find Julian. So he can be beside him again. The urge is strong, but he forces himself to remain seated. Forces himself to just watch as the officers leave. Instead, he tries to reassure himself that it’s enough for now—he told them everything he knows. That’s something, right? It has to be. 

He looks back down at Mom’s phone, his heart feeling heavy with anticipation as he opens the screen. But there are no responses from Julian. Aaron dials his number several more times. When his calls remain unanswered, he lets out a long breath and glances at the large window overlooking the city.

Where are you, Julian?

𖤓

The following day, Aaron wakes up to three familiar faces peering down at him.

“You’re a fucking idiot, Delaney.”

With a grunt, Aaron carefully pushes himself into a sitting position. “Good morning to you, too, Steven.”

“If you had died, I would personally bring you back from the dead just to kill you again,” Steven says plainly. He looks like he could use a few more hours of sleep and some freshly ironed clothes.

“Oh, I’m sure.”

“Oh you fucking bet. And if you’d died, I’d take your PS5 and stomp on it right in front of your stupid grave. Then I’d take your car, set it on fire, and crash it right into your dumb tombstone—”

“Alright, that’s enough.” Casey shoves Steven to the side, taking over his spot beside Aaron’s hospital bed. She crosses her arms over her chest and levels him with a probing look. And, well, she looks rough—her skin is unusually pale and her mascara is smudged around her eyes. “But he’s right, Aaron. You are an idiot.”

“I second that.” Tommy sidles up beside Casey, looking down at him in a disapproving manner that would make any dad proud. “We leave you alone for a day and suddenly you’re getting yourself shot in the gut, bleeding out on the pavement?”

“First of all,” Aaron says, holding up a finger, “believe it or not, I didn’t actually get shot on purpose. And while I did lose a lot of blood, Mom says none of my vital organs were hit, so I wasn’t really going to die—”

“You literally looked like a corpse. You were absolutely about to die.” Steven stands on the other side of his bed now, the window behind him framing his silhouette.

A sharp pang of guilt cuts through Aaron at the reminder that it was Steven who’d found him bleeding out on the pavement. Apparently, Mom said he arrived around the same time the cops did. Steven was coming home after spending the night working on a group project with his coursemates, only to stumble upon Aaron sprawled on the sidewalk in front of their apartment building. Aaron could only imagine how he felt seeing his best friend like that.

If the roles were reversed, Aaron doesn’t know how he would ever recover.

Now that he’s really looking at Steven, he can see the dimness in his eyes and the slight downturn of his lips—subtle indications, yes, but they’re easy to notice when Steven has always been known to be the one wearing a bright, constant smile.

“I’m sorry," Aaron says quietly. 

Steven stares at him, then looks away. He twists his lips as though he’s deep in thought, and when he looks back at Aaron, there’s a sheen of fresh tears in his eyes. “You scared the fuck outta me, man.”

“Don’t ever do that to us again,” Casey says, sniffling. She sits beside Aaron and takes his hand. “We wouldn’t know what the hell to do without you.”

“I’m sorry,” Aaron says again, his voice cracking.

“Plus, it would’ve been a real pain in the ass to find a new drummer,” Tommy says.

There’s a beat of silence, and then Aaron guffaws. Casey lightly slaps Tommy’s arm in reproach.

Meanwhile, Steven makes an affronted noise. “Really? You make one joke every seven months and this is when you decide to make one?”

Tommy shrugs. “It made Aaron laugh.”

“That fucker laughs at everything. Doesn’t count.”

Casey sighs. “Can we have a serious moment here? Is that possible?”

“Blame your boyfriend, he was the one who made a joke!”

“Again, I did it to make Aaron laugh—”

“It was a poorly timed joke, though.”

“Look who’s talking!”

Steven scoffs. “What the hell does that mean?”

“You’ve never made a properly timed joke in your life.” 

“False. I know how to time my damn jokes, Tommy.”

“June 27, 2021. Mrs. Jenkin’s funeral. That’s what you call a properly timed joke?”

“Okay, now you’re just cherry-picking.”

“That’s not how you use that term.”

“What the hell is this? English class?”

“I suppose you wouldn’t know since you never attended any of those classes.”

“You really are cherry-picking.”

“Wrong usage. Again.”

Casey and Aaron exchange an exasperated look as the two continue to bicker. Still, the familiarity of it all brings a small smile to Aaron’s face. He can’t believe how close he got to never experiencing any of this ever again. 

After a moment, Casey clears her throat. “Seriously, though. I’m glad you’re doing alright. Does it hurt anywhere?”

“I’m alright.”

She raises an eyebrow, her gaze sweeping over his face. “You look like shit, by the way.”

“I refuse to look in a mirror, but I'll take your word for it.”

“It’ll heal.” She tilts her head, smiling sadly. Then, sounding a bit hesitant, she says, “Your mom caught us up and told us about Julian as well. That he might be in trouble because of the guy who shot you.”

Aaron nods, pursing his lips. “I told the cops everything that happened. Told them everything that could help.”

“That’s great. I’m sure it’ll help a lot.”

“Will it?” He looks away and clenches his jaw. “What if it’s too late?”

“Don’t think like that. Julian’s a smart kid—if the cops can’t help him, then he’ll find his own way.”

“I just wish I could’ve helped more, you know?” He hears his voice tremble. “He trusted me. He trusted me to help him and protect him, Casey. And I couldn’t. I wasn’t able to save him.”

Casey frowns. She shifts on the bed so she’s meeting his eyes again. “Are you serious? Aaron, even I could tell that Julian was going through something, but you know what I saw? Whenever you two were together, it was like he’d come to life. Ever since you two started hanging out, there was a lightness to him that wasn’t there before. Whatever happens now—just know you made him happy. You made him so happy everyone else could see it. No matter what happens, Aaron, you’ve already saved him in so many ways. And he knows that. I promise you.”

Aaron’s chest tightens. “It’s not enough. He deserves more than that.”

“He does. So we’ll give it to him. We don’t have to just sit back and do nothing. He goes to Holton, right? We can ask around, find his coursemates, and see if anyone knows him. We’ll find a way to contact him. And then we’ll find a way to get him away from that man, alright? We’ll keep him safe because he’s one of us now.”

The unbearable tightness in his chest loosens a bit at the surety in Casey’s voice. “Okay. You guys will help me?”

“Of course. Julian’s our friend, too. I can get started on it, but we need you to rest. You just got out of surgery.”

He sighs. “Yes, I know. Mom already gave me that speech.”

“Then you better listen to her. Try not to stress her out even more than you already have.” 

“I’ll try. But no promises.”

She dramatically sighs. “Poor Martha.”

They spend the rest of the day eating and watching TV. As usual, Steven physically cannot stop talking, and by the time the nurses come in to check on Aaron, he’s telling them about the internship he’s got at a huge IT company and how he’s struggling to juggle it with his coursework. Meanwhile, Casey and Tommy sit side by side on one of the chairs, pressed closely together (as always), their voices echoing in the room. 

There’s a gaping hole where Julian should be—like a missing puzzle piece. He feels his absence like a phantom limb, feels it so intensely that he has to resist the urge to do something reckless again.

That’s what landed him here in the first place—his inability to control his temper. His inability to think. It’s just—seeing Julian being treated so roughly after what he just went through the previous night was tough. Seeing Julian covered in bruises already filled him with uncontrollable rage, so when he saw the man who was likely responsible for Julian’s pain…

Now that he thinks about it, his only true regret is that he wasn’t able to give Logan the brutality he deserved.  

He lies back down on the bed, letting his friends fade into the background. Even though he fights it, exhaustion eventually makes his eyelids heavy. 

As he slowly slips into sleep, Julian’s smile lingers in his mind, bringing him a fleeting sense of comfort.

Chapter Text

“Are you just going to stare at him like an absolute creep, or are you going to go there and say hi?”

Aaron flinched where he stood, nearly dropping the tray in his hands. Steven looked at him with his head tilted to the side, his rectangle-shaped reading glasses making him look even nerdier than he already did. Watching him closely, Steven raised an eyebrow at him before making a big show of glancing at the table Aaron was previously looking at.

Putting his best clueless face on, Aaron merely placed his tray on their table and sat down next to him. “Wasn’t staring.”

“Whatever you say, Romeo,” Steven said teasingly. He looked like he was about to say more, but then a guy Aaron knew by face (and not by name) walked past their table and started talking to him. Just like that, Steven’s attention shifted away from Aaron, making him let out a quiet sigh of relief.

It was around 2 in the afternoon, so the lunchtime rush had already passed, but Caffeinated was still quite packed. Like Aaron and Steven, most of them were Holton students working on schoolwork. Thankfully, Tommy placed a “Reserved” card on his and Steven’s favorite table in the café—the one beside the windows and across the main entrance—so even though they had just arrived, they still had the prime spot.  

Speaking of prime spots… Aaron subtly glanced at the other side of the room where he could clearly see the boy who also seemed to have a favorite table in the café. Unlike Aaron who loved the sunlight pouring through the window, this boy seemed to prefer the small table tucked into the corner of the shop, partially hidden by a large potted snake plant. 

The boy had a black hoodie on, his head tilted downward as he wrote in a notebook. Dark curls tumbled over his forehead, some of the strands getting caught in his thick eyelashes. It seemed like he was mumbling something to himself, pink lips softly moving, forming words Aaron was curious to hear. Even from a distance, Aaron could see a light flush on his cheeks, probably from the cold.

This wasn’t the first time Aaron saw him, but if there was one thing he noticed, it was the fact that the more he saw the boy, the harder it was for him to take his eyes off him. It was like his curiosity grew every time he found himself in the same vicinity as the guy, and frankly, Aaron didn’t know what to do with that knowledge.

He watched as the boy wrapped his hands around his drink and brought it to his mouth, thin, pale fingers contrasting starkly with the dark-colored mug. Steam rose, swirling around his face, some wisps twirling between the strands of his hair. It was… oddly serene. 

There was just something about this stranger. Aaron didn’t know what made him stand out so much. Not yet, at least. 

“Dude, seriously, even you’re creeping me out,” Steven said, bumping his shoulder roughly. 

Aaron realized he must’ve been staring for a while now, so he hastily looked away and pretended to look through his backpack for something. Then, he remembered that he was supposed to be working on his Advanced Geotechnical Engineering project anyway, so he grudgingly grabbed his course textbook and dropped it on the table. In a deadpan voice, he said, “Aren’t you supposed to be coding or something?”

“God forbid I take a break for one second. I’ve made good progress anyway, so I’m good. It’s you who needs to focus. Seriously. Do you know that guy? You’ve been staring—”

“Keep it down,” Aaron hissed feverishly, slapping a palm over Steven’s big mouth. “And as I said, I wasn’t staring.”

“I suppose he is cute. Coming from a straight guy, that’s high praise, by the way. He has an innocent look to his face—I didn’t know you were into that, but I support it!” Steven told him, proudly clapping him on the shoulder like someone’s fucking dad. 

“Steven, I swear to—”

“Hmm, but now that I think about it, Noah was kind of cute too, wasn’t he? But he didn’t look very innocent. More like… bitchy? Yeah. He had a resting bitch face, didn’t he?”

Aaron groaned, dropping his face into his palms. “Why are we talking about this again?”

“Because I’m telling you that the cutie with the curls over there is definitely a step up from your ex. This is also me subtly letting you know—”

“Subtly?”

“—that you should definitely ask him out. He seems sweet! A bit timid, from what I can see, but you’ve already got way too many extroverts in your friend group anyway, so I think he would be great to have around! He can give Tommy a run for his money.”

Sighing, Aaron looked up again and—fuck. The boy was looking right at them.

“Steven,” Aaron said, moving his lips as little as possible, “shut the fuck up.”

“But I’m right, aren’t I? Oh, fuck. I just realized something. If you end up dating him, I’ll end up fifth-wheeling again whenever we hang out with Casey and Tommy! Okay, so I actually think you shouldn’t ask Curly out right away—” 

A tray was dropped onto their table, making them both flinch. Casey casually leaned against Steven's seat as she picked at her nails, looking bored. “I baked these, but something’s missing. Try them for me and give me an honest review.”

While Steven stuffed his mouth with the baked goods, Aaron risked another glance at the boy. He met his eyes for a split second—green, or was it blue?—and just as Aaron was about to flash the brightest, most winning smile of his life, the boy quickly looked away.

He moved fast: grabbing his notebook and pen, he stood, crossed the room, and stepped through the café doors, leaving only the faint chime of the bells behind.

Aaron blinked. 

“Wait, is he gone? I didn’t see him leave,” Steven said.

Casey crossed her arms, following Steven’s gaze to the now-empty table. “Who are we talking about?”

Aaron opened his mouth, but Steven beat him to it. “Aaron’s got a little crush and won’t stop staring at him.”

“Oh?” Casey raised an eyebrow. “This is the most interesting part of my day. Who is he?”

“Don’t know his name,” Steven said with a shrug. “Curly dark hair, pale, a bit skinny? Short-ish? A bit younger than us, I think. He was sitting right there—”

“Oh! He’s a regular. Don’t know much about him, to be honest. I just assumed he’s a student.” Casey turned toward Aaron, a mischievous smile slowly appearing on her face. “You like him? I say go for it! Talk to him.”

“That’s exactly what I said!” Steven chimed in unhelpfully.

“He seems nice. If you want, I can talk to him for you—” 

Aaron laughed awkwardly. “No, uh. No, I don’t need you to be my wingman, Casey.”

She shrugged. “Alright. Your loss. But just so you know, he usually stops by on Wednesdays.”

“Okay. Noted.” Aaron cleared his throat and then opened his textbook. He was on page 1 out of 76. Lovely. “Alright, I need to actually focus on my project now. Shoo.”

Casey left without another word, probably off to bother Tommy this time (thank goodness), but Steven was, unfortunately, still beside him. 

“Back in the game, are we?” Steven grinned. “I’m rooting for you.”

“Steven.”

“I know you’re a pro at this, alright? I know you got this. But a little extra support won’t hurt.”

“Appreciate it. Really.”

“I’ll need updates on that. It keeps my life entertaining.”

Aaron sighed, keeping his focus on the textbook in front of him. After a while, Steven stopped pestering him and went back to typing on his laptop, allowing Aaron to finally enjoy the quiet.

However, try as he might to absorb what he was reading, it was no use. He ended up rereading the same sentence twelve times and he still had no idea what it was trying to say. Unconsciously, his eyes strayed back to the vacant seat—the spot that had just recently been occupied by a mysterious boy who had effortlessly caught Aaron’s attention without him even knowing it.

Aaron found himself wondering what his name might be. Casey said he might also be a student—was it possible that he went to Holton University, too? Aaron had never seen him on campus before, though to be fair, it was quite a large place, and their schedules probably didn’t line up. He looked quite young, so maybe he was one of the new freshmen. Plus, if Aaron had somehow come across the boy on campus, he would remember him. Definitely.

In the following weeks, Aaron noticed an extra bounce in his step whenever Wednesdays arrived and he dragged an increasingly annoyed Steven to Caffeinated. As usual, the boy was there, in his usual spot with his usual drink. Though he was quiet and obviously trying to blend in with the shadows, Aaron’s eyes were drawn to him as if he were a spotlight.

Aaron would consider himself a brave person. At the tender age of twelve, he’d fought off a burglar who broke into their house with nothing but a wooden bat. He wasn’t afraid of ugly insects like cockroaches or spiders. He was also daring—always ready to try new stuff, to chase the thrill of risky activities, to just have fun and not overthink it too much.

So even he found it odd that he physically couldn’t bring himself to walk up to the boy’s table and introduce himself. It was weird because… well, Aaron wasn’t shy. Quite the opposite. If he saw someone pretty, he asked for their number. That was just how he was programmed. But for some reason, he was hesitant to act the way he usually would. “Straightforward,” his past flings would say. “Too intense” or “coming on too strong.” 

Something about the boy required a certain… gentleness, he supposed, that Aaron would be happy to offer but didn’t get to very often. 

He didn’t know what made him think this way, but he decided to trust his gut. After all, he didn’t want to scare the boy away. Didn’t want to be the reason he stopped coming to Caffeinated—a place he clearly loved and felt comfortable in, given the fact that he had consistently showed up here for weeks straight without fail. And, if he was honest with himself… well, he was kind of scared. Scared to do or say the wrong thing, scared to be seen as an annoyance, scared to be rejected. 

So, over the next few weeks, Aaron merely watched the boy from afar. He slowly became familiar with the quiet way he moved, the universe of thoughts in his eyes, and the way he looked so at peace yet restless at the same time. 

He was a mystery, yes, but beyond that, he was captivating. He was perhaps the most beautiful boy Aaron had ever laid eyes on—so beautiful that he almost felt unreal, like a dream he might wake from at any moment.

𖤓

Aaron wakes up in the middle of the night. 

He hears an echo of a familiar voice, catches a glimpse of a blurred image before it fades into the darkness. He’s not sure if it’s real or just a lingering fragment of his dream—or nightmare. He’s not even certain which it was.

It’s still dark, but he can see the sky taking on a lighter blue hue through his window. He checks his phone and realizes it’s already 4 AM, so he decides to get up since he has a morning class to get to anyway. 

After brushing his teeth, he bends over the sink to wet his face, only to wince at the uncomfortable tightness that pinches at his lower abdomen. He looks down to make sure that no blood is seeping through the gauze covering his wound, and thankfully, the cloth is untainted. 

He internally berates himself for forgetting not to move too quickly. Despite it already being about a month since his surgery, both his doctor and physical therapist have been clear: he needs to take it easy for the first three months and avoid straining himself too much.

But he’s never been good at following orders.

Hours later, he finds himself in the backseat of Tommy’s car beside a barely-awake Steven. In front, Tommy and Casey are debating where the four of them should have dinner later. Aaron stays quiet, not really that interested in the conversation, and merely stares out the window as they whip past the buildings.

At a red light, Aaron sees a guy in a dark jacket, the hood pulled up to cover half his face. He’s walking on the sidewalk, facing their direction, with his hands tucked into the pockets of his pants. Too tall, Aaron observes. And his posture's all wrong.  

When they finally arrive at Holton, Steven hops out of the car without another word, and when Aaron makes a move to follow him, Tommy calls his name.

“Hmm?”

Tommy turns a bit in his seat, looking a bit somber. “You’ve been quiet. Just wanted to know how you’re doing.”

Aaron finds another pair of eyes on him—Casey’s—and he knows these two won’t let him go until he gives them what they want to hear, so he sighs and closes the door again, settling into his seat once more. “Alright? I mean, the usual. Got physical therapy twice a week now, instead of just one. Kinda sucks.”

“Ah. And school?”

“Some of my profs let me skip a couple of missed assignments when I showed them my medical certificate. Oh, and remember what I told you about Mrs. Reena? She finally agreed to extend the deadline for her paper.”

Casey nods. “That’s good. You shouldn’t be stressing yourself too much, though. I know graduation’s near, but—”

“It’s alright. I can catch up.”

“I don’t doubt it, bud,” Tommy says with a quiet laugh. 

Silence fills the car for a few seconds. It starts to get awkward, so Aaron clears his throat. “Right. So, I’m gonna be late, and you should probably get to the café as well—”

“We know you’re having a tough time,” Casey cuts in, but her voice is gentle. “If you need… if you need people to talk to, you know we’re right here. Alright? We just wanted to remind you.”

Aaron glances out the window, watching groups of students mill about. He clenches his jaw. “I said I’m fine.”

“Right. But just in case—”

Aaron lets out a hollow laugh, his annoyance spiking. “You don’t have to do… whatever this is. I know Mom told you to look out for me, but that’s really not necessary. I know what I’m doing.”

Tommy frowns. “We know. We just want to help—”

“And you are! Driving me to and from campus every day, bringing me food, keeping me company—I mean, that’s great. I appreciate it. Thanks. Seriously.”

And he really does appreciate them—Aaron knows he hasn’t exactly been the most pleasant guy to be around lately. Plus, he’s been having trouble sleeping, making him even crankier than he already is. He would definitely get annoyed at himself if he were in their shoes. But then again, he did just have a near-death experience—surely that’s reason enough to cut himself some slack, right? 

“Okay.” Casey gives him a smile. It’s a bit forced. “Well. Dinner’s still on, so we’ll see you and Steven there. We’ll pick you up, so just shoot us a text when you guys are ready.”

“Sure.” Aaron opens the door and steps out. He leans down and says “Thanks” before slamming the car door shut. 

He has to make an active effort not to walk too fast or he might pull a muscle or something and end up curled over in pain. At least he’s got his pain meds—he wouldn’t be up and about like this if it weren’t for them.

Steven has already probably made it to his classroom, so Aaron doesn’t bother looking around for him. He walks without straining himself and finally makes it to his first class. It’s a lecture, so Aaron does his best to take down notes and pay attention, but as it tends to do these days, his mind flies. At this rate, he just knows showing up to sit through these lectures is pointless because he’s not mentally present anyway.

But alas, there’s nothing to be done about it. So, he sucks it up and goes through the motions. He shows up for his classes, and during his vacant hours, he works on some of the assignments and activities he missed because of the incident. It’s absolutely grueling and boring at the same time, but somehow, Aaron makes it through the day.

He still has a couple of hours before Tommy and Casey pick him and Steven up for dinner, so he leaves campus and hails a cab. He doesn’t remember much of the drive, but he arrives at his destination much faster than yesterday.

The convenience store looks the same as it did every other time he’s been here, except today, there are a lot more people inside for some reason. As usual, he leans against the exterior wall beside the entrance and crosses his arms over his chest. There are two other people out here and one of them is smoking. It makes Aaron itch for something he doesn’t know—perhaps something to occupy himself with as he waits.

Like yesterday (and the day before, and the day before that…), he pulls his earbuds and phone out and decides to listen to some music. He plays the playlist he made Julian listen to all those months ago, and he tries to remember what that day was like. If he closes his eyes and focuses hard enough, he can almost imagine Julian standing next to him, leaning on the wall, looking up at him with those ridiculously large eyes, pretty lips curled into a shy smile.

He misses him. He misses him so fucking bad.

Aaron lets out a breath, blinking his eyes rapidly at the threat of tears. He’s not going to cry. There’s no damn reason to cry. He tells himself this until he gets his emotions under control again, and then he looks around the area, up and down the sidewalk, and across the street. 

Tapping his fingers on his thigh, he takes a close look at everyone passing. He plays a made-up scene in his head: Julian walking down the street in front of him, looking tired but otherwise unharmed. Logan isn’t anywhere to be found, and as soon as Aaron meets his gaze, Julian’s expression melts into a look of relief. Seconds later, Julian launches himself right at Aaron, and Aaron holds him tight. 

But, in reality, Julian doesn’t show up. Just like the last few weeks, all Aaron sees are strangers who look nothing like Julian. He tries not to let the hopelessness and disappointment get to him, but he feels it deep in his chest—a dark furl of regrets, questions, and what-ifs that make it hard to breathe.

Eventually, he walks around the entire area as part of his usual routine, covering several blocks in both directions. At this point, he’s got every storefront and apartment building memorized now even though he doesn’t live anywhere near here. When his efforts remain fruitless, he walks back to the 7-Eleven store, his chest feeling even heavier than when he first arrived.

He’s tired, yes, and he knows his mom, doctor, and PT will get three different kinds of aneurysms if they ever find out what he’s been up to, but Aaron wholeheartedly believes that it’s worth it. It’s just walking—it’s not like he’s doing cartwheels. And, sure, he shouldn’t be going to places alone after what happened, but he can handle himself. He’ll be fine.

And maybe, all three of them would call him stupid, too. He would agree with that, because even Aaron knows that standing around for hours on end every day in the place he used to drop Julian off and pick him up is a long shot. He knows that. Even Officer Amak told him that Logan and Julian have likely moved places now since Logan is in hiding after shooting Aaron, and he likely brought Julian with him whether he wanted to come or not.

Logically, he knows all this, yet he still finds himself returning here day after day, hoping that somehow, he’d find Julian walking these streets. Because where else could he be? Certainly not Holton University. It took Aaron and Steven days of asking Journalism students—from freshmen to seniors—about "a coursemate named Julian" before they arrived at the dreadful conclusion: Julian likely never even studied there in the first place.

A couple of days later, Officer Amak called to inform him that the college administration had confirmed that no one matching Julian’s description and photograph (a cropped picture of Julian's face from a selfie Aaron had taken with him) had ever been enrolled in Holton University.

So, really, can anyone blame Aaron for being desperate enough to do all this? Julian, for some reason, lied to him. Beyond that, he hasn’t really given Aaron much to work with, either.

The music playing in his earbuds is suddenly interrupted by an incoming call. It’s his mother. He feels a flare of exasperation—he’s just been more irritable lately—but he quickly tamps it down. So what if Mom calls three times a day? He would probably act the same way, or worse, if his own kid nearly died.

“Hey Mom,” he says as he picks up. 

“Aaron! I’m just checking in.”

“Mhhm.” He looks around, but the crowds are already dwindling. “Uh, I’m alright. Went to school today. It was okay.”

“I hope your coursework isn’t stressing you out too much?”

“Just the right amount. It definitely won’t affect my wound, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

She hums. “How is it, by the way? Does it still hurt when you move?”

It always aches. Even with the pain meds, there’s always a dull throb that won’t go away. Then there are sharp, stabbing sensations when he moves wrong. “No. I don’t really feel it anymore, to be honest.”

“That’s great to hear! You just continue attending your physical therapy sessions and following your doctor’s instructions, and you’ll be back to normal in no time.”

“Right.” Aaron scrapes his shoe against the ground. “How are you and Annie, by the way?”

“Oh, I just dropped her off at her ballet practice.” She sounds fond. “Your sister misses you, you know? She hates that she hasn’t been able to see you since… well, since you got hospitalized.”

Aaron misses her too. “I talk to her nearly every day.”

“And that’s great. But you know how she is—she always wants an excuse to come and see you.”

He laughs lightly. “Trust me, I know.”

For a moment, Aaron is distracted by a car horn blaring as a woman tries to cross the street. When the car finally passes, the noise fades, and only then does he realize that his mom hasn’t said anything for a while.

“Mom? You still there?”

“Yes, yes,” she says. “I was just… well, I was curious about the case. Have you heard from Officer Amak since the last time?”

The last time being around two weeks ago when Amak invited Aaron to the precinct so he could identify Logan’s face among a line of mugshots. Apparently, Logan Peyton has a long list of criminal records (along with the rest of his family), though most of them were from when he was younger. These days, he tends to fly under the radar, but the cops are trying to change that.

In the end, it didn’t take Aaron long to recognize the man’s face. Just seeing his photo made Aaron burn with rage, his mind racing back to that disastrous day. All Officer Amak told him was that Aaron’s eyewitness testimony, along with his identification of Logan in the photo lineup, would be invaluable in moving the investigation forward.

“He hasn’t contacted me again.”

“But they must be looking for that man now, right?”

“They’re looking to arrest him, yes. A conviction isn’t a sure thing yet, but he says it’ll be easy to get there after his arrest.”

Mom lets out a deep sigh. “Good. That’s good. I just worry, you know? For you and Julian.”

Aaron’s throat feels tight. He looks around, but as expected, no familiar face walks into his field of view. The streets are empty, it’s getting dark, and now he’s standing all alone. “Me too.”

After a pause, his mom carefully says, “You know you can take a leave of absence and retake your classes next semester, right? It’s important that you get to rest, and I’m not just saying physically.”

He leans his head on the wall behind him, tilting his face toward the sky. It’s now a dark shade of purple. He’s been here for hours. “I know, Mom. You already told me this—”

“And I’m telling you again,” she says sternly. “I know you’re motivated to push through because graduation is so near and you don’t want to have to delay it, but you should always put your health first.”

He knows she’s right. And he would’ve taken a leave of absence—he sure as hell doesn’t enjoy attending class and catching up on school work when his body feels like it might give out at any moment. “I know, Mom. It’s just…” His voice quiets into a whisper. “I need the distraction.”

Mom makes a sympathetic noise. “Aaron…”

“I genuinely feel like I’ll go insane if I don’t have anything to occupy myself with.” It’s the first time he has admitted the truth out loud, and a big part of him feels good about it. “I am having a hard time, you’re right. But it’s better than sitting around and worrying myself sick all day about him. I prefer this, Mom. It keeps me sane.”

“I understand,” she softly says. 

“I just feel so lost right now.” He feels the exhaustion of the entire day hit him all at once. He struggles to keep his voice steady. “I just want him to be okay again. With me.”

“You know I can always drive out there, right?” Mom says. “I know you have your friends with you, but it’s different to have your mother—”

“Thank you, Mom,” he gently cuts her off. “But as I said, Annie needs you there. And you have a job.”

“I can always find a way—”

“Mom, seriously, it’s okay. I just wanted to vent for a bit. Trust me, I’d tell you if I needed you here.”

There’s a pause, and then she sighs. “Alright.”

“Alright,” he echoes. “Well, um. I have dinner plans, and I might actually be a bit late already.”

“Don’t let me keep you,” Mom says. “Oh, and Aaron?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you. Always take care.”

He swallows. “Love you too, Mom.”

Afterward, Tommy and Casey bring him and Steven to a new Japanese place that just opened nearby. It’s fun—they eat, chat, and there are moments when it feels just like the old times. 

But there’s still a cold absence at his side, a pointed vacancy that leaves him feeling empty and aimless. He hopes he doesn’t have to get used to it.

𖤓

The following day, Aaron wakes to Steven making a ruckus in the kitchen. 

It’s Saturday, so there’s really no reason to get up early, but Aaron does so anyway. He doesn’t want to get sucked into the habit of staying in bed even when he’s already awake. He kind of did that the first few days after he was discharged from the hospital, but he put a stop to it right away. 

He pads into the living room, finding Steven sprawled on the couch with a laptop in front of him. Lately, it’s impossible to find Steven without it.

“Why’re you up so early?” Aaron asks, his voice rough. He walks past Steven and goes to the kitchen. Steven apparently made enough coffee for two, so Aaron makes a sound of appreciation and pours himself a cup.

“I remembered I had to submit a job application. The deadline is like, in a few hours, so I have to send it in ASAP.”

Aaron finds it odd that Steven is already sending job applications out even though they haven’t graduated yet. But Steven told him that he was just following his dad’s instructions. Apparently, Steven being a “nepo baby” (Steven’s words, not Aaron’s) means it’s okay, since he can just rely on his dad’s connections to get him interviews at various IT companies.

“Oh. How’s the whole application thing going, then?” Aaron sits at the kitchen island.

"It's going alright. Dad thinks I should look for jobs outside the city, so I did just to shut him up. But I'd much rather stay here, you know? Moving is such a hassle." 

"You've always wanted an apartment for yourself, though," Aaron points out.

"Yeah. But I don't think I can ever live alone."

"Those are two very contradicting statements."

Steven sighs. "I'm just saying—yeah it's nice to have a place of my own, but I can never keep shit tidy, you know?"

"Ever heard of hiring a maid?"

"I'm going to need to pay a maid," Steven grumbles.

Aaron huffs out a laugh. "You are impossible."

Eventually, Steven leaves the apartment because he has errands to run. As much as Aaron would like to tag along for no reason, he’s been explicitly told not to leave the apartment if it’s unnecessary as it can affect his healing wound. And, of course, there’s the mountain of assignments and projects he still has to catch up on.

He takes a quick shower and then takes all of his schoolwork to the living room where the sunlight pouring in from the window can hopefully motivate him to get some stuff done today. But as he’s about to open his laptop, he hears three sharp knocks on the door.

It’s quite early—only around 9 in the morning—so he wonders who it might be. Perhaps Steven forgot something and had to come back quickly to get it?

Another set of knocks makes Aaron get up. He can’t help the apprehension that he feels as he approaches the door. Logically, he knows he’s safe. The apartment building’s security has been tightened after the incident, and there’s no way Logan’s going to show up here to finish the job. But even though he knows this, he can’t help the way his heart picks up a bit as he prepares to open the door.

“Relax, dumbass,” he mutters to himself as he looks into the peephole. 

He opens the door and is met with Officer Amak’s wrinkly smile. “Good morning, Aaron. So sorry to bother you this early. I ran into your friend Steven as he was heading out and he let me into the building.”

“Oh, I don’t mind.” He steps aside, pushing the door open wider. “Please, come in—”

“Thank you, but there’s no need. I’ll just be very quick.”

“Did something happen?”

“Nothing you should stress yourself about,” Amak tells him. He clears his throat and looks a bit apologetic when he says, “It’s really nothing to worry about, but it has something to do with your case against Logan Peyton. A private investigator reached out to me after finding out about Peyton's involvement in your case. Turns out we’re after the same guy, and he wants to exchange notes to move both cases forward. And, well, you’re a prime witness, so he’s interested in speaking to you.”

“Oh. That’s—that’s good, right? You guys can like, work together to find and arrest him sooner?”

“Ideally, yes,” Amak says. “Hawke—that’s the PI—would really like to speak with you as soon as possible. He wants to schedule an informal interview with you.” He pulls a calling card out of his wallet and hands it to Aaron. “I told him it’s up to you whether you’d agree or not, and that you’ll be the one to contact him.”

“Got it,” Aaron said, reading the card: Private Investigator Evan Hawke. 

“I know this could’ve been a phone call, but I was in the area and thought this would be better explained in person.” 

“It’s alright,” Aaron says. “I, um. I wanted to ask about the case, anyway. Is there… is there something else you can share with me?”

“We’re doing our best to find Peyton,” Amak reassures him. “But as I mentioned before, the Peytons have been a pain in our ass for years now. They got connections, and most of the time, it’s hard to get a case rolling on them since they’re very careful. Your case against him is actually the most solid one we’ve had in years; we have a lot of evidence, CCTV footage, and witnesses. Peytons like him are usually careful, so something must’ve been off that day. Left behind a trail of clues that should’ve been cleaned up if they had planned for it.”

Aaron nods. He supposes that makes sense. Shooting Aaron had likely been an impulsive act—something Logan hadn’t planned or anticipated, but did anyway.

“And Julian?”

Amak scratches his scruffy cheek. “It’s very likely that if we find Peyton, we’ll find Julian, too. But rest assured that we’re trying to gather more  information about your friend so we can find him quicker.”

He sighs quietly. The disappointment must be clear on his face, because Amak quickly adds, “Speaking with that PI will help. Trust me. So give him a call, alright? Tell him you’re open for an interview.”

That’s exactly what Aaron does. As soon as Officer Amak leaves, Aaron dials Hawke’s number. He sounds a lot less intense and stiff than Aaron initially imagined, and they agree to meet later that day at a nearby restaurant. 

As he shrugs his jacket on, he glances at the pile of schoolwork that he still hasn’t touched. He lets out a regretful sigh even though he’s secretly thankful that he’s got a reason to not spend his Saturday with his nose buried in a Structural Analysis and Design textbook of all fucking things.

He walks to the restaurant because it’s only a few blocks away. It’s a quaint little place with a cozy ambiance, small flower arrangements on each table, and the faint smell of fresh-baked bread in the air. 

Aaron stands at the entryway, scanning the half-filled room, when a voice calls out his name from the back. He turns and finds a blond man in a crisp polo shirt waving at him. 

“Hi,” Aaron says once he’s standing beside him.

“Mr. Delaney, isn’t it?” asks the man. They exchange a quick handshake. “I’m Evan Hawke. Thank you for taking the time to meet with me today.”  

“It’s no problem. And, uh, just Aaron is fine.”

“Aaron, then.” He motions at the table. “Let’s take a seat?”

They sit down near the window. There’s a cup of coffee on the table, which Hawke has clearly been taking a sip of before Aaron arrived. Noticing him looking at it, Hawke says, “Ah, sorry, I ordered ahead. I’ve got a bit of a jetlag. Needed the caffeine.”

“Sounds like you traveled a long way to get here.”

“Something like that. I’ve been going back and forth, especially after I’ve gotten in touch with Officer Amak. My client lives quite a distance away, so I've had to take care of some things over there as well.” He takes a lengthy sip of his coffee. “Mm. Speaking of, I forgot to mention it on the phone, but my client insisted that she also joined us today. This case is very close to her and she wanted to speak with you as well. I hope that’s okay.”

"Of course it is," Aaron says.

He wonders how exactly Hawke’s client is connected to Logan. Could it be something similar to Aaron’s case—maybe an assault? Whatever it is, Aaron is just glad they’re working together to get that man behind bars.

“Ah, there she is,” Hawke says, gesturing at someone behind Aaron. 

They both stand as a woman wrapped in a long coat with dark, pin-straight hair walks toward them. There’s something about her eyes that makes her strikingly familiar. 

“Hi, sorry I’m late,” she says, a bit out of breath. 

“Don’t worry about it.” Hawke gestures toward Aaron. “This is Aaron Delaney.”

She looks at him, her gaze sharp and calculating. They’re nearly the same height with her heels on, but even without them, he knows she’d still give off the same intimidating presence.

"Hello," she says, extending her hand. Aaron takes it, immediately struck by the firmness of her grip and the urgency in her eyes. "I’m Emily Harper. I’ve been told you can help us find my brother, Julian."

Chapter Text

This is the first thing Aaron realizes: Emily Harper, aside from her striking eyes, is nothing like Julian. 

She holds herself with a kind of intensity that’s hard to look away from. Every move she makes—be it the sweep of her eyes from Aaron’s scuffed shoes to his hair, or the unmistakable firmness of her handshake—seems controlled and intentional. Whereas Julian’s emotions are clear to see in his eyes, Emily seems like the type of person who knows all about carefully chosen words and calculated actions. 

Nonetheless, being face-to-face with her feels absolutely surreal. It feels like one of his daydreams—scenarios he’d imagine in his head out of sheer desperation and hopelessness when the whole Julian situation seems unsolvable. 

That’s not to say he hasn’t been proactive; he has actually tried looking for Julian’s family members online. But that little mission was already doomed from the start since he didn’t know Julian’s last name and Julian himself likely didn’t have any social media accounts, either. Now, through some sort of miracle, he’s shaking hands with not just a relative, but Julian’s sister. A sister who seems very much just as driven to find Julian as Aaron is.

It’s more than he could’ve ever hoped for.

“Nice to meet you,” Aaron manages to say after a brief pause. Emily responds with a tight smile.

Hawke directs them to take their seats, and then he steps away from the table for a moment to ask for a menu. Meanwhile, Emily sits across him with a straight back. She’s watching him closely, but her face is unreadable.

“Thank you for agreeing to speak with us.” Emily is the first to break the building silence between them. Aaron nods but finds that he doesn’t know quite what to say yet. Seemingly having no problem leading the conversation, she says, “I’ve been told you consider Julian a close friend. I’m not sure if he’s ever mentioned me considering we haven’t really seen each other for maybe five years now, but recently, I have been trying my best to find him. I’ve only spoken to him once a few months ago, over the phone, where he tried to convince me to stop looking for him. But aside from that, I haven’t heard from him again.” 

Hawke returns to the table with a waiter and a menu, and for a few moments, the waiter lists their order. Aaron feels far too distracted to eat anything, so he just opts for coffee. Emily might feel the same as she only orders tea with some bread, while Hawke asks for a full meal.

“Julian has mentioned you before,” Aaron says once the waiter has left. “He told me you guys had a big fight and haven’t spoken since. He also said his dad passed away, but from the way he said it, it sounded like they also didn’t have a great relationship.”

He remembers learning about it that night—when Julian watched Silent Riot play for the first time. Now, it feels like years have already passed. Julian grinning up at him as Aaron pressed him against the wall, Julian’s cheeks and nose red from the cold, looking so unbelievably beautiful… Aaron’s chest aches at the memory. 

“I began to think that the fact that he didn’t have any family to talk to is the reason he ended up with Logan Peyton,” Aaron says, his jaw clenched. “I met Julian at the cafe where I work. He frequently visited, and we eventually got to talk. We became friends. Julian is one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met. I didn’t know he had a boyfriend until that psycho made a scene that night in front of my apartment. But even before that night, I could already tell Julian wasn’t happy. He… he was clearly hiding something. Now I know it’s because his boyfriend is abusive.”

Emily nods, a shadow crossing her face. “Officer Amak gave us a copy of your testimony. I read what happened that night when you got hurt.” Then, to his surprise, she reaches across the table and grips his hand. “Thank you for trying to protect him, Aaron. And I’m sorry you got hurt in the process.”

He abruptly looks away, feeling regret and bitterness churn in the pit of his stomach. He pulls away from Emily’s grip. “I did try to protect him. I wasn’t going to let him leave with that man. But now… well, Officer Amak told me they’ve searched the potential places Logan might’ve been staying, but they discovered that he already left. Logan’s a wanted man now, so he likely brought Julian with him into hiding.”

It’s that thought that constantly keeps Aaron up at night. The plain terror on Julian’s face and Logan’s casual cruelty—these are the things imprinted on the back of his eyelids. And fuck if he isn’t praying for Julian’s safety every second of the day. 

“Why did Julian really stop talking to his family?” Aaron asks. “He said there was a fight. Is that true?”

Emily fidgets with the rings on her fingers. The guilt on her face is unmistakable. “My family isn’t perfect. Far from it. Dad had a gambling addiction, and Mom turned to drugs after I’d left home. Julian and I didn’t exactly have a fight—I just sort of disappeared on him. I left home when he was fourteen.” 

Hawke adds, “We soon discovered that Julian's father, Mr. Harper, built up quite a large debt—with loan sharks. The Peytons, more specifically.”

“Is that… is that how Julian knows Logan? Because his dad owes Logan’s family?”

Aaron goes cold all over.  He knows about Logan’s criminal record and his shady family, but he’s lost on the specifics. He assumed they’re involved in a lot of blue-collar crime, like Logan himself, but them being loan sharks and Julian’s dad owing them a large debt? That’s a connection Aaron has learned just now, and the potential implications make his skin crawl.

Hawke nods. “As you may already know, the man’s bad news. After learning about Mr. Harper’s outstanding debt to the Peyton family, I immediately considered them the top suspects in Julian’s disappearance. That’s why I took a closer look at the Peytons—Logan, specifically—and learned about your assault case against him. Imagine my surprise when I learned Julian himself was also directly involved. Plus, that incident happened only a few days before Emily’s attempted kidnapping.”

Aaron looks back at her, stunned. “Kidnapping?”  

Emily stirs her drink. She appears nonchalant, but there’s a slight tremor in her movement when she wraps her hands around her cup. “A few months ago, I learned about Dad’s death, and I tried to reach out to Mom and Julian. Couldn’t find them anywhere. I spoke to our old neighbors, and there were rumors that Julian was spotted in the… more illicit part of town. I wrote a letter and sent copies to various locations down there. Put my contact info so Julian could call me. Predictably, all it got me were prank calls and people trying to scam me, but I eventually got a voicemail. It was Julian’s voice—I knew it was him right away even though I hadn’t spoken to him in years.

“Julian eventually gave me an address, asked me to meet him and Mom there. By myself. I found that odd, but I was willing to take the risk. But then a few days later, I got a call, and it was Julian again, except he was telling me not to go to the address he gave me. He kept saying something about him being ‘forced’ to say those things, and how it was unsafe. I wanted to get to the bottom of things, so that’s when I hired Mr. Hawke.”

Aaron frowns. “But you still went to the address Julian told you not to go to?”

“Yes, but not without backup. Mr. Hawke involved the police and set up a plan. I showed up there, and they thought I was alone. It wasn’t long til they tried to grab me—” her voice wavers. “There were many of them, maybe five or six. The police managed to capture two of them. The rest escaped.”

“Kent Andrews,” Hawke says, opening a manila folder to reveal a teen with a buzz cut, “and Dominic Perez.” This one was older with an ugly scar cutting the skin under his left eye down to his jaw. “Their past criminal records link them to the Peytons, but at the moment, they’re refusing to tell us anything. Hopefully not for long, though—Officer Amak will be offering deals, reduced charges, and protection to whoever snitches on their boss first. It’s only a matter of time before we track Logan Peyton down with their help.”

Aaron feels the ever-present tightness in his chest unfurl slightly. “That’s good. That’s great news.”

“Yes, but we don’t have the luxury to wait around,” Emily says, a hint of frustration creeping into her voice. “Logan could be planning to leave the city, or the fucking state at any moment, and he’ll bring Julian with him. If that happens—” She cuts herself off, swallowing. Her eyes appear glazed over with unshed tears. “I don’t want it to get to that point. Logan is dangerous. Julian shouldn’t be anywhere near that man.”

Then you shouldn’t have left your brother in the first place, Aaron thinks darkly, but he keeps his mouth shut. He knows his anger is misdirected, and this definitely isn’t the time to antagonize someone who wants the same thing as he does.

“Mrs. Harper, on the other hand,” Hawke says, wiping his mouth with a napkin, “has proven impossible to track down. She has medical records of her confinements in a couple of hospitals, but we’re still in the process of pinpointing exactly where she went after being discharged. She might be able to tell us more about Julian. Plus, one of our main priorities is to make sure anyone close to Julian is safe and protected considering the threats Peyton has made against them. ”

“Wait.” Aaron sits up straighter, his heart suddenly pounding in his chest. Fuck, how could he have forgotten? 

“What is it?” 

His mind travels back to that night—of Julian crying in his arms, shaking uncontrollably, and later telling him a piece of information that Aaron didn’t realize was crucial until now. He feels guilty and frustrated that he didn’t bring it up earlier, but beyond that, he feels extremely hopeful. 

“I think I know where your mom is.”

𖤓

The Healing Path Rehabilitation Center is a dull, plain building. There’s nothing special about it—Aaron would even go as far as saying that it’s quite a depressing thing to look at. Yet, hopping out of the car and standing in the parking lot feels like a momentous moment.

Hawke arranged their visit as soon as Aaron told them about Mrs. Harper’s potential whereabouts. Now, it’s roughly been a week since then, and Aaron thinks they’ve already wasted way too much time.

Emily gets out of the car next, her eyes stormy as she looks at the rehab center. She doesn’t say a word.

“She’s admitted under a different name,” Hawke tells them as he leads them through the entrance. “Amanda Suarez. After much digging, it became evident that Peyton himself had admitted her here. Changed her name and all to make it harder for authorities to find her.” He chuckles humorlessly. “Clever bastard.”

While Hawke speaks with some people at the front desk, Aaron looks around. He spots what appears to be the visitation area—several tables and couches arranged throughout the spacious room. The place is bustling with patients and their visitors, likely because it’s lunchtime, which is a typical time for families to stop by.

However, when the staff leads them to their destination, they walk past the visitation area and find themselves in one of the more private rooms. There’s a large wooden desk in the middle, surrounded by several chairs. A large window takes up one of the walls.

“Does your mom know you’re coming to visit?” Aaron asks Emily as they take a seat.

She purses her lips. “No.”

Aaron has only known her for a week, but he can tell she’s anxious. It’s in the way she won’t meet his eyes. He can imagine how hard it must be for her to speak with her mother again after years of radio silence.

Still, Aaron can’t help but think it’s better this way. He doesn’t know Helen Harper, but he knows that she is one of the reasons—be it directly or indirectly—that Julian is in the situation he’s in now. He doesn’t trust her, so it’s better to catch her off guard, preventing her from coming up with a lie or a story for any reason.

“I didn’t think you’d actually come,” Emily says. She looks at him thoughtfully. “But thank you.”

Aaron doesn’t feel an ounce of shame for practically inviting himself along. He’s the one who gave them the information about Helen’s whereabouts anyway, so shouldn’t he be able to come? He’s as involved in this case as Emily is. Aaron doesn’t have to be a relative to put in the work in trying to find Julian and get him to safety, especially when the cops are taking way too fucking long. As a matter of fact, they’re interviewing Helen first before Officer Amak does, and who knows when that will be?

“Julian’s important to me,” he says, staring out the window. Some patients are taking a stroll, enjoying the sun. “I want to help however I can.”

Emily doesn’t say anything to that, but there’s a small, barely-there smile tugging at her lips.

A few minutes later, two staff members lead a woman into the room. Immediately, Aaron can tell it’s Helen Harper. She’s practically Emily’s clone—from her angular face and pale skin to her dark, straight hair. When she first appears, there’s a frustrated pinch to her mouth and her eyebrows are furrowed. However, as soon as she looks up and meets Emily’s eyes, her face shows nothing but utter shock.

Emily stands. After a pause, she says, “Hi, Mom.”

For a moment, Helen and Emily just stand there facing each other, not another word exchanged. Then, there’s a sudden movement, and Aaron hears it before he registers what happened. 

Helen just slapped her daughter.

Emily presses her hand to her cheek but keeps her gaze locked on Helen, her expression defiant. 

Meanwhile, Helen’s face is twisted into an ugly grimace, red with anger. She spits out, “You’ve got some guts showing your face here.”

“Mrs. Harper,” Hawke says firmly, gently pulling Emily away from her. “We’re just here for a—”

“You’re the one who left,” Helen twists around to tell Emily, ignoring Hawke. “What was it you told me? You’d rather die in the streets than live another day in the same house with us?” 

Hawke, along with the other staff members, tries to get in between them. “Alright, can we just—”

“You really have no right to be mad right now,” Emily finally speaks, her voice shaking. She sounds like she’s in disbelief. “Look at where you fucking are, Mom.”

“You watch your mouth!” Helen makes a move to grab at Emily, but this time, the staff manage to pull her back and push her onto one of the chairs. She aggressively shakes them off. “Get the fuck off me.” 

“Okay!” Hawke says loudly, clapping his hands once. “Alright. I think we all need to calm down. We’re here to have a civil conversation. Can we do that?”

“What the hell are you even here for?” Helen demands, looking straight at Emily. “You disappear for years, you didn’t even call when your own father died, and you show up here like nothing happened because you need something from me? I don’t know where we went wrong with you—”

“This is about Julian.” Emily cuts her off, nearly shouting. “This isn’t about you or me. It’s about my brother, so for the love of God, Mom, can you put your issues aside and just listen?”

Helen merely stares at her with a clenched jaw. But at least it makes her go quiet.

“We’re just here to ask some questions about Julian,” Hawke says placatingly.

She huffs and crosses her arms. “What about him?”

“Did he ever visit you here?” Hawke asks from his seat across Helen.

“Regularly.” She throws Emily a sharp look. “He’s a good kid. Never forgot about me.” Unlike someone else, seems to go unsaid.

“When was the last time he visited?” Aaron finds himself asking. 

“Don’t know.” Helen picks at her nails. “Couple of months ago. He should be visiting again soon. Why?”

There’s the sound of a hollow laugh. It’s Emily. “You have no idea, don’t you?”

Helen leans her elbows on the table, narrowing her eyes. “About what?”

“Typical,” Emily murmurs.

“Mrs. Harper,” Hawke says, clearly recognizing the building argument for what it is and cutting it off before it starts. “We have reason to believe that your son is in danger. He’s been unreachable for months now, and—”

“Have you talked to Logan?” Helen asks. The room goes quiet. “Julian’s boyfriend. He always came with Julian whenever he visited. He’s a good man—he won’t let anything happen to my boy.”

Emily laughs again, sounding slightly hysterical, but she says nothing. She’s probably speechless.

“Logan Peyton is not a good man,” Aaron says through gritted teeth. Helen meets his eyes for the first time, and Aaron feels his dislike for her growing by the second. “He’s the reason Julian’s in trouble. He’s abusive, dangerous, and—”

“What?” Helen looks incredulous. “That can’t be right. He’s been the one supporting us for years. Julian’s happy with him, they even have a business together.”

“Oh my fucking God,” Emily grits out. “You believe that?”

“Logan cares more about me and your brother than you ever have,” Helen snaps. “So, yes. I believe that. I don’t know where we’d be without Logan, especially after your father’s death. Though I suppose you wouldn’t know anything about it.”

"Logan Peyton is a wanted man," Mr. Hawke says, his voice laced with authority. "Anything you can tell us about him could be crucial, Ma’am. I know you may believe he’s a good man, but the truth is far different. The sooner we find out where Logan and Julian are, the better for everyone."

Helen looks like she wants to protest at first, but she eventually sighs. “Alright. What do you want to know?”

She tells them that Logan met Julian when she was in rehab, and Logan soon transferred Helen to this specific rehab center because the facilities and doctors were better. Logan shouldered all the expenses. After much prodding (and several reassurances that they won’t tell the authorities), Helen admits that she’s aware that she’s admitted under a fake name because Logan convinced her that it would make it easier for her to hide from the people she owed money to—money she had spent on drugs. At least until she had the cash to pay them back. Since then, Helen has been in and out of this rehab center a couple of times, and every time, Logan was the one to help out.

“You didn’t notice anything odd about Julian’s behavior? Any detail that might’ve stood out to you?” Hawke asks.

It’s getting dark out, and Aaron fears that this entire thing might’ve been a waste. What he thought might be a breakthrough in the investigation might not be helpful at all. It makes him feel restless in his seat—that familiar buzzing underneath his skin making itself known once again.

“He was often quiet,” Helen says after a moment. “Julian’s always been that way, but he became even more timid lately. I assumed it was because he lost his father and… well, he worries about me a lot. Such a sweet boy, that one.”

Hawke asks her a few more questions about possible places Logan might’ve mentioned and other details that might help them find him. Unfortunately, Helen doesn’t have much to say that can help in that area. 

When it’s over, the pit in Aaron’s stomach becomes impossible to ignore.

“Thank you for speaking with us,” Hawke tells Helen, shaking her hand. “In a few days, some officers will get in touch with you. You’ll be moved to another rehab center for your protection throughout the investigation.”

Helen looks displeased by this. “Is that really necessary? Are you sure this isn’t just one big misunderstanding?” 

Aaron bristles. “Logan Peyton shot me because I was trying to protect Julian from him.” She looks at him, her mouth falling open in shock. “That’s the man you’re trying to defend. It’s up to you whether you believe me or not, but are you really willing to gamble your son’s safety for some man you don’t even really know? Logan has been fooling you this entire time while hurting your son. That’s the truth.”

She blinks, then scoffs. “It’s not that simple—”

“Let’s just go,” Emily appears beside him, pulling his arm. She sends Helen a sharp, disappointed look. “There’s no point talking to her. Trust me.”

Emily drags him out of the room and Aaron follows without another word. Hawke is still doing something inside, so Emily and Aaron step out into the cold air. They lean against the building’s exterior, their gazes fixed on the parking lot ahead.

After a few moments, Emily lights a cigarette. She offers him one, but he quietly declines.

“Well, that was pointless, wasn’t it?” Emily says bitterly, blowing out a plume of smoke.

“She’s safe now, at least,” Aaron says. “Logan threatened her safety, and now he won’t be able to reach her. That’s good, right?”

“I guess that is the best outcome we could hope for.”

Aaron’s not happy with it. He isn’t satisfied. He thought they were getting somewhere. That maybe, this might be the last missing piece of the puzzle. That maybe this will be the interview to give them the most important information they need to finally find Julian. 

He was wrong. And it makes him feel like he let Julian down yet again. 

“You’re a good friend to him,” Emily says out of the blue. “I’m glad you guys met. He deserves someone like you.”

He deserves better than me, Aaron thinks. He deserves someone who can get him out of this shit. Someone who can actually keep him safe, someone who doesn’t constantly fail. 

But all he says is, “I’m glad I met him, too.”

Eventually, Emily sighs and pushes herself away from the wall. When she passes him, she pats his shoulder. “Don’t lose hope. We’ll find him. I’ll make sure of it.”

As her footsteps fade away, Aaron lifts his eyes to the dark sky. The full moon hangs above. Could Julian be staring up at it too?

𖤓

Four years of sleepless nights, lukewarm coffee, and salty tears have led them all to one place—the stage in the university auditorium. The seats are filled with family members and friends applauding for hours straight as each student accepts their diploma onstage and shakes their Dean's hand. Aaron grins wide at the camera as the flash goes off, and somewhere toward the side, he can hear his mother and Annie clapping and whooping loudly. Aaron directs his grin toward them as he walks down the stage and returns to his seat.

Once the ceremony is over, Aaron's coursemates and friends all gather at the side, talking about going out for drinks to celebrate. Aaron turns them down with a soft smile, saying he'll be spending the night with his family. They all exchange hugs and pats on the back until Aaron finally escapes the crowd and throws himself into his mother's arms while Annie squeezes herself between their chests, giggling.

"Congratulations, we're so proud of you," Mom says, kissing both his cheeks. Her eyes look bright and are slightly glassy.

"Thanks, Mom." Aaron looks down at Annie with a raised eyebrow. "What about you? You got a gift for me or something?"

Annie pretends to think for a moment. "Having me as your little sister is the greatest gift you can ever have."

Aaron rolls his eyes while Mom snorts. He ruffles her hair, ignores her squawk of protest ("Aaron, my braids!"), and says, "You are so cheesy."

"Got it from you.”

Annie might be a decade younger than him, but she sure knows how to keep a good banter going. He laughs and drags them out of the auditorium, already cursing inwardly as there will definitely be traffic.

Originally, Aaron tried getting a reservation at a fancy Italian place which was about a thirty-minute drive away from campus, but when that didn't happen, they decided to eat at whatever food chain they saw first as they drove. They find themselves seated in one of Wendy’s booths, and while the place is quite packed and noisy, none of them complain as they eat their favorite meals. 

Mom asks a waiter to snap a picture of the three of them. As the flash goes off, Annie wipes a ketchup-covered finger on his cheek, laughing breathlessly. Aaron dips his finger in her ice cream and gives her a mustache as revenge. Their mother crosses her arms over her chest, feigning annoyance, but anyone can see the upward tilt of her lips.

Overall, graduation day isn’t bad at all.

Mom and Annie sleep over at his and Steven’s place for the night so they’re energized and ready for a long drive in the morning. Aaron makes an effort to wake up early, which wasn’t that hard of a task since he was having trouble sleeping on the couch, anyway. As soon as he’s up, he gets to work and cooks them a hearty breakfast.

“I smell pancakes,” Annie announces as she walks out of Aaron’s bedroom, still in her pajamas. Aaron pats her head as she passes to sit at the kitchen counter. 

“Banana pancakes, to be exact,” Aaron says proudly, placing a plate of the pancakes in front of Annie, who merely hums happily before diving in.

A few moments later, Steven emerges from his room with a bad case of bedhead and an obvious hangover. Unlike Aaron, Steven actually went to the club with some of his coursemates, and from the frown prominent on his face, he probably regrets it. It makes Aaron snicker.

“Morning, chipmunk,” Steven says when he sees Annie. He tries to steal one of her pancakes, and all it gets him is a sharp slap to his arm. Steven flinches away, his hands in the air. “Damn, alright. No touching the pancakes, then.”

“Aaron cooked a bunch,” Annie says defensively. 

Steven grabs a plate and stands next to Aaron at the stove, nudging him slightly. “Gimme one of those.”

With a fond sigh, Aaron gives in. 

Soon, Mom also joins them and helps Aaron finish cooking the rest of the pancakes. She also makes them coffee (and hot chocolate for Annie) before returning to Aaron’s room to fix their things and prepare for their long drive home.

Aaron leans against the sink, thinking about how nice it would be to go back home with them. He hasn’t been back home since last Christmas, so he does miss it. He misses waking up to Mom cooking up something mouthwatering in the kitchen, misses watching Annie’s ballet performances and driving her to and from her practices. He also has a couple of friends back home that he’d like to catch up with.

But now isn’t the time to do all that. He’s just… not ready to leave the city just yet. He used to say that he doesn’t want to leave because he’s busy with school, but it’s May now and graduation has just passed, so what’s stopping him now, exactly?

Well, the correct question would be who is stopping him now, and the answer is quite obvious.

“You okay?” Mom joins him in the kitchen. They both watch as Steven and Annie play a card game in the living room, with Steven receiving the occasional punch whenever he tries to cheat.

“I’m good,” he says, because he is, isn’t he? He just graduated college, his family is here with him, and he’s physically the best he’s been since the incident.

“Any news about Julian?” Mom asks because she can read him so well.

“Nothing new,” Aaron says, frustration coloring his tone. “Officer Amak and Hawke are keeping things quiet. They haven’t really told me much.”

Since visiting Helen at the rehab center months ago, he hasn’t really spoken with Hawke much. He still talks to Emily regularly, though, so at least he’s not completely in the dark. The last he heard was that Logan was spotted somewhere downtown and cops had been dispatched to try and arrest him, but it was a fruitless attempt. The man is still unfortunately on the loose.

Mom squeezes his arm comfortingly. “They will find him. I promise.”

Aaron tells himself that, too. Every day. He doesn’t know if he believes it anymore.

Eventually, Aaron and Steven walk Mom and Annie to their car. Annie gives him a tight hug before hopping into the car, and then Mom gives both Aaron and Steven kisses on their cheeks before waving goodbye. As they watch them drive off in silence, Aaron already misses them.

“I call dibs on the shower,” Steven says loudly when they make it back into the apartment building. He aggressively shoves Aaron aside and runs up the stairs with a ridiculous laugh. God. He’s so fucking annoying.

Aaron sighs. He’s thinking of racing after Steven and beating him to the bathroom just to be a little shit when his phone suddenly rings in his pocket.

Emily is calling.

He immediately picks up, his heart in his throat. “Hello?”

There’s a beat of silence, and it feels like an eternity. “Aaron. They know where he is.”

Aaron stops breathing. A mix of emotions rises inside him, but what stands out the most is all-consuming relief. Suddenly, his entire body feels weak, and the next moment, he finds himself sitting on the stairs, leaning on the railing. 

“Are you sure?”

Emily lets out a shaky breath. “He’s coming home, Aaron. We’re getting Julian back.”

Chapter Text

The apartment building where Emily lives is similar to Aaron’s, except for the fact that the exterior of Emily’s place looks a bit more worn down, the white concrete stained by years of dirt and rainwater marks. 

It’s also located in the more underdeveloped side of the city, where the streets are narrower and lined with graffiti-covered walls and gritty buildings. Aaron observes all of this in a daze, all while his mind is a murky, panicked mess.

He hops out of the car, the sound of the door slamming loudly in the half-filled parking lot. He jogs toward the building’s entrance and checks the time—10:13 AM—and silently curses the traffic he had to endure on the way here, as well as the precious minutes that slipped by when his GPS fucked up and led him astray for a while. 

But no matter. At least he’s here now.

Following Emily’s instructions, Aaron takes the stairs (the elevator has apparently been broken for two months now) and makes it to the fourth floor. His heart beats erratically as he finally spots Emily’s unit.

The door is ajar, so Aaron just steps inside. Three pairs of eyes turn toward him at his entrance—Emily, Officer Amak, and Mr. Hawke.

Emily’s sitting on the couch, her hands folded on her lap. Though she looks put together in her ironed shirt and slacks, Aaron clearly sees the way she’s clenching her jaw and recognizes the anxious gleam in her eyes. He suspects it mirrors his very own.

“Aaron.” Amak is the first to greet him. He smiles, though his eyes look tired. “Emily told us you were joining us.”

“I drove here right away after our call.” Aaron hadn’t even had the chance to tell Steven anything. He answered Emily’s call in the stairwell, and when she told him that Amak and Hawke had a solid lead on Julian’s whereabouts and would be stopping by to discuss it with her, he ran straight to his car and started driving. 

“We just arrived,” Hawke says. 

“Come sit,” Emily tells him, patting the empty space on the couch beside her. 

Aaron does as told, and as soon as he’s seated, he starts fidgeting. His entire body feels like it’s vibrating—every part of him feeling unsettled. To cope, he bounces his leg up and down, his clothes feeling inexplicably tight around his limbs. 

“Here,” Emily says, handing him one of the glasses of orange juice on the coffee table. 

“Thanks.” He finishes the drink in one go. 

Amak and Hawke are seated across them on a smaller couch. It’s Officer Amak who starts the conversation. “As we’ve already told Ms. Harper, our division is actively working on retrieving Julian. We’re coordinating with other units to make sure we’re covering all our bases. Right now, our top priority is bringing him back safely.”

Emily lets out a shaky breath. “How did you find him?”

“Kent Andrews,” Hawke says. “Well, Officer Amak can tell you all about it since it was him who got the boy to break.”

Aaron recognizes that name. It’s one of the men they arrested in December when they attempted to abduct Emily.  

Amak takes a sip of his drink. “With Andrews’ help, we found out that one of my very own men at the station has been doing the Peytons’ bidding for years. Been sabotaging our investigations to cover their tracks. It’s one of the reasons Julian’s case has been moving so slowly despite all the evidence we have against Peyton. But aside from that, he also gave us a list of Peyton’s businesses all over the city. Over the last couple of weeks, we’ve had undercover officers checking them out. Eventually, one of my guys spotted Julian.” 

“You’re sure it’s him?” Aaron hears himself ask. He sounds as weak as he feels. He doesn’t think he’d be able to recover if it turns out this was all a mistake—if, after everything, he’s getting his hopes raised for nothing. 

“A hundred percent. The officer saw him, but couldn’t get close enough to speak with him. At that point, the men there had started to suspect him, so he had to leave before his cover was blown.”

“Where?” Emily asks. Her voice is slightly hoarse. “Where, exactly?”

Officer Amak hesitates a bit, and the somber look that takes over his face makes Aaron’s heart crumble in his chest. 

“Where?” Aaron pushes despite the dread he already feels.

“Logan Peyton runs many illicit establishments,” Amak starts, looking them both individually in the eye, “and one of them is a prostitution house. There are maybe ten, twelve prostitutes inside. We've found that most of them are linked to missing-person cases. It's a case of human trafficking. Julian is caught in the middle of it, likely because of his father’s unpaid debt to the Peytons.”

Aaron’s blood runs cold.

Amak continues speaking, but he can barely hear him over the sound of his own heart beating thunderously in his chest. 

“I know this is really tough, and I wish I could give you a clear timeline, but I can’t—at least not at the moment. What I can tell you is that we’re doing everything in our power to handle this properly. With Helen safe now, the Peytons have no leverage anymore, meaning we’ve got a better position to focus on apprehending them and getting Julian back to safety. We’ve been through cases like this before…”

He isn’t a stranger to the ever-present heaviness in his chest—he’s been feeling it for months now. It’s made a home inside him at this point. But somehow, the feeling transforms into something even worse. Now, it feels like someone has forced a fist right into his chest, pulling and yanking and gripping and destroying everything within reach. 

Distantly, he thinks he hears Emily’s hitched sobs and Hawke’s calm, authoritative voice, but at the same time, Aaron can hardly make sense of his surroundings. His mind has gone inexplicably blank. He can’t process anything, and every part of him feels numb aside from the gaping chasm that has become of his chest.

None of this feels real. 

Somehow, Aaron spends the next few minutes sitting there, listening to Officer Amak and Hawke. Apparently, they’re organizing a raid. They can’t go into detail, but they reassure them that Julian, along with the other victims in the house, will be rescued. 

All they have to do is wait.

He doesn’t know how much time passes, but eventually, Officer Amak and Hawke leave the apartment. Emily walks them to the door, her face as pale as a ghost with streaks of smudged mascara shadowing her harrowed eyes. When she turns toward him, he feels like he’s looking straight at a mirror again. 

No one says a word and the silence is heavy. Aaron feels like it’s choking him. Emily must feel the same way, because she leads him down to the parking lot. This time, when Emily offers him a cigarette, he takes one from the pack.

He lets her light his stick. When he inhales, warmth slides into his throat, all the way to his lungs. He coughs, but he thinks it helps calm the building dread inside him if only a little.

Aaron eventually finishes the cigarette and drops it on the ground, crushing it with his shoe. He stares at the smoldering remnants on the asphalt, a faint wisp of smoke curling upward before it fades into the air.

It’s noon. The sun is high in the sky, bright and lively. Aaron can’t fucking stand to look at it.

He pushes himself off the wall and starts walking toward his car. He gets in and drives, and when he passes Emily on his way out of the lot, she still hasn’t moved an inch.

𖤓

The lights are distracting, to say the least. 

There’s green and white and blue. It’s hard to tell the exact colors because his vision is swimming and the music is too fucking loud, but he still likes the lights. They’re a great distraction, and there’s nothing he needs more than that.

There’s a hand on his arm—no, arms around his neck. A voice in his ear, but he can’t understand a word. He blinks his eyes repeatedly and finds himself face-to-face with a brunette girl. She has a dazzling smile and twinkling eyes, but the way she laughs tells him she’s drunk. Nevertheless, she dances well, pressing up against him and giggling at nothing.

He doesn’t remember how he ended up here in the middle of the dancefloor. He’s been sitting at the bar for hours, but somehow, he’s been dragged all the way out here. She seems fun—definitely looks like a better distraction than the stupid lights—but Aaron pulls away. Despite her trying to tell him something, Aaron walks away, pushing past the sea of sweaty, intoxicated people.

He feels better now that he’s at the bar again. He demands another shot, takes it, revels in the warmth it brings, and asks for another. The floor trembles beneath him.

It’s nice. He has always liked alcohol. When he was younger, new to the whole college scene, he was partying nearly every week. It was always fun. He always regretted it in the morning, but by the time the next weekend arrived, he had already forgotten how horrible the hangovers were, so he didn’t hesitate to say yes to another night out.

Eventually, though, it becomes a bit harder to breathe for whatever reason. He leaves the bar and somehow finds an exit. He ends up pushing the door with too much force, making it slam noisily against the wall outside. 

He’s in a narrow alleyway. There are some people out here—a couple making out in the corner and some guy sitting on the ground, leaning against the dumpster.

But there’s also relatively fresher air out here, so he finds a spot near the mouth of the alley and plops down on the ground. He’s tired. He doesn’t know what time it is and his body is begging him for water, but he’s so tired he can’t even begin to care about any of that.

He looks up and notes that it’s night already. It must be late, because the streets are unusually clear, not clogged with cars like they typically are in the early evening.

There’s a high-pitched shriek, and he whips his head to the side to find a woman laughing as a man drags her back into the club. When the door closes behind them, it becomes even quieter. 

Aaron is unsettled by the silence. 

Just as he’s about to get back up and go for another round of shots, he feels a vibration against his thigh. It’s his phone—and someone is calling him.

“H’llo?”

“Thank fucking God!” says the other person. Steven, he realizes.

“Hey.”

“Hey? What do you mean ‘hey?’ I’ve been calling you for hours!”

“Oh.” He pulls his phone away from his ear, grimacing at Steven’s loud voice. “Didn’t realize.”

“Oh, I bet. Where the hell are you?”

He looks around. “Some club.”

Steven takes a deep, exasperated breath. “Alright. Well, you disappeared on me and I haven’t been able to contact you since yesterday morning. So please, Aaron, can you tell me what the hell you’re doing getting shitfaced on a random Tuesday?”

He licks his lips. “Just… I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“Wanted to drink.”

Steven scoffs. “Yeah sure. Okay, just figure out which club you’re at so I can pick you up.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t want to go back yet.”

“It’s three in the morning. You can’t possibly—”

“You don’t fucking get it,” Aaron snaps. “I—I need to, just. Just for a bit. I need the distraction. Is that so bad?”

He realizes his tongue isn't moving as it's supposed to, so his words end up slurred and sometimes unintelligible. Steven still seems to understand him, though. He always does.

“Are you okay? What happened?”

Such a simple question. The answer to that should be simple, too, but it isn't. It's the farthest thing from that. It makes anger bubble up inside him, making him clench his jaw.

“Do I sound fucking okay?” Aaron rests his head on his knees, feeling the rough material of his jeans against his forehead. 

“Okay. You're upset.” There's the sound of a door slamming shut. “Stay put. I got your location. Thank goodness Tommy forced us to get the Life360 app—”

“They said… they said they found him,” Aaron says quietly. 

There's a pause. Disbelief is clear in Steven's voice when he asks, “They found Julian?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck. That's a good thing, right? He'll finally be safe from that psycho. I swear that fucker better not show his face to me or I'll—”

“It's so much fucking worse than what I thought was happening,” Aaron chokes out. “Fuck, Steven. It's…”

He can’t even begin to describe how he feels.

“Alright. We’ll talk about it later, okay? I'm almost there.” Steven takes a deep breath. “Everything will be fine, bud. I promise.”

Aaron hangs his head, breathing in shakily.

Steven arrives a few minutes later, looking disheveled in his pajamas. It's all a blur, but somehow, Steven gets him into the car. The next thing he knows, he's lying on something soft while Steven fusses over him, bringing a glass of water to his mouth.

“Drink up,” Steven says after helping him sit up a bit in bed.

Aaron gladly drinks the water. He has a pounding headache and his vision is still swimming slightly, but being back in his room with Steven hovering around helps a bit.

“Sorry,” Aaron croaks out once he finishes his water.

“Don't worry about it.” Steven sits beside him, the mattress dipping. He looks at Aaron with a kind of focus that makes Aaron feel oddly vulnerable. “Wanna talk about it?”

The patience and softness in Steven’s gaze settle something inside him.

“They know where he is,” Aaron says carefully. “It's… bad. Really fucking bad. I don't think I have any right to tell you about the details, but it's horrible. Julian, he…”

His voice cracks, and it's not long until the first tear hits his cheek. Everything hurts. He thinks about Julian and his quiet demeanor, his sweet personality, his easy kindness—what kind of fucked up world do they live in where someone like that is forced into something so cruel?

But beneath that, there's a roaring flame of rage that grows larger every second. He can't fathom how anyone could be so heartless, so unbelievably vile to do something like that.

There’s also a part of him that won’t go quiet, a part that keeps asking: why didn’t he come to me for help? 

Aaron would’ve done everything in his power to get Julian out of whatever messed-up situation he found himself in. Aaron had always wanted Julian to feel safe and comfortable whenever they were together because he knew the boy was going through something. After Aaron’s confrontation with Logan, he thought he had it all figured out: Julian was in an abusive relationship with Logan and Julian had been seeking Aaron out, desperate for the kindness Logan was incapable of giving him.

Learning the truth—the true extent of the things Julian has been hiding—has irrevocably broken something inside him. 

“I got you,” Steven tells him, pressing close to where Aaron’s curled up on the bed.

Aaron cries. He muffles the sounds he’s making in his own palms, gritting his teeth through the emotions running through him. He cries, pain flaring up deep inside him, but the voice in his mind is clear, and it says one thing: Julian’s pain ends here. He’ll make sure of it. 

𖤓

A week later, he receives word that the cops are going to raid Logan’s prostitution house.

Aaron finds out through Emily’s text at exactly 6:48 PM, just as he steps into the apartment. He has to reread the message several times for it to make sense, and when the gravity of it sinks in, he lets out a long, shaky breath.

He tries to type in a reply, but he doesn’t know what to say. Instead, he walks into his room and sits in bed, hearing nothing but his breathing and the vicious beating of his heart.

He feels like he might be sick. So many things can go wrong with operations like this. Yes, the goal is to rescue Julian and the others, but there’s no guarantee that they’ll be safe. The people keeping Julian captive will resist the cops, gunshots might be exchanged, someone could get caught in the crossfire—

The mere thought of Julian getting hurt has Aaron standing from his bed. He starts pacing his room, hands clenched at his sides. What is there to do? Nothing. He can only wait. He can only sit around doing nothing.

He doesn’t know how long he stays locked in his room, lost in his own thoughts. Time seems to slip through his fingers more and more lately, and the exhaustion from being constantly sleep-deprived only makes it worse. So, it could’ve been an hour or five, and he wouldn’t be able to tell.

“Aaron? You in there?” Steven says from the other side of the door, his voice muffled.

Aaron scrubs a hand over his face. “Yes.”

“Come out. I made dinner.”

Still feeling jittery, Aaron leaves his room, absent-mindedly grabs the food Steven prepared, and takes the couch. He thinks Steven might be in the bathroom taking a shower, but he’s not sure.

"Dude, you haven't eaten anything."

Aaron blinks. Steven is suddenly beside him, fresh out of the shower with slightly damp hair. He can’t have showered that quickly, so Aaron likely lost time again.

Instead of answering, he checks his phone. It's 11 PM and Emily promised to update him about Julian, but she hasn't texted him again. There’s a cooking show playing on the TV, but it sounds like white noise to him. 

"It’s cold now." Steven is looking at the plate of lasagna sitting there on the coffee table in front of him, untouched. 

Robotically, Aaron grabs the plate and takes a small bite. He's not really hungry. His stomach is a mess of knots at the moment and he doesn't want to risk upsetting it, so he places the plate back down on the table and looks at his phone. Still nothing.

"Mind if I chill here for a while?" Steven shoves his legs off the couch and sits directly next to him, throwing an arm over his shoulder. 

"You're supposed to be packing your stuff," Aaron says after a moment. He allows himself to be distracted for a while and scans the room. Boxes are littered all over the hallway and on the dining table. One glance toward Steven's bedroom and messy closet tells him that his clothes still need to be packed.

"My moving out couldn't have had a worse timing," Steven says dejectedly. “I want to be here for you and Julian, you know?”

Steven's dad has been nagging him to move apartments for the last few months. Steven has always been stubborn, but Aaron knew that it was only a matter of time before he caved. A few days ago, Steven and his dad must’ve come to an agreement (or his dad somehow found a way to force Steven to agree, as he is wont to do) because Steven told Aaron that he was going to live at his dad's old condominium, which was closer to his job. Steven looked guilty while saying it, and Aaron felt another piece of him die a little inside.

But it is what it is.

"You can always visit," Aaron says. 

“Right.”

It’s quiet again. Aaron bounces his leg nervously.

Steven looks at his watch. "I have about ten hours before I have to leave for good. I want to spend that time talking with you. Don't wanna sound like your mom, but I'm worried about you. Especially now that I'm leaving, you tend to get lost in your head a lot. So, please, tell me what’s on your mind. I want to help."

Aaron sighs. He checks his phone again, then looks back at Steven. “The rescue operation is happening tonight. Emily told me the cops are going to try and get him back.”

Steven’s eyes widen. “Oh, fuck.”

“I think I might go fucking insane.”

Aaron looks at Steven and sees anxiety written all over him. Steven doesn’t know any of the details—all he knows is that Julian’s been found and rescuing him won’t be simple. That’s probably why it’s so easy for Steven to say, “Everything’s going to work out. We’ll see Julian again soon, alright?”

Steven’s words are firm. Confident. Somehow, it makes Aaron breathe a little easier. When he looks down, his phone still has no notifications. He sighs and squeezes his eyes shut.

"Rest up. I'll wake you up if I see a text or a call."

He's already half asleep by the time he nods.

However, when morning comes, there still aren’t any updates from Emily.

Aaron keeps his phone in his hand, waiting for a notification as he watches Steven put the last of his things in the back of his car.

The sight makes Aaron lightheaded. Throughout his entire college life, he's never spent a day away from Steven. They fell asleep in the library together, crammed their papers in every possible café together, cried and laughed and got drunk off their asses together. Now, Steven has a job at some fancy tech company, and he's going to move away. A four-hour drive away. Aaron swallows past the lump in his throat.

"That’s everything," Steven says, dusting off his hands after closing the trunk. He walks toward Aaron and gives him a small smile. “C’mere.”

Aaron pulls him into a hug. "You take care out there."

"You, too."

The atmosphere is heavy. Aaron is still in shock from everything he’s learned about Julian, is in a constant anxious state due to the lack of updates on the rescue operation, and now he’s saying goodbye to his best friend, not sure when he’ll see him again.

Aaron genuinely doesn’t know if he’ll make it through the day in one piece.

“You’ll miss your flight,” Aaron says.

Steven’s face is all shadows—Aaron hasn’t noticed until now. His mouth is downturned, the bags beneath his eyes dark and pronounced, and the sparkle in his eyes that makes him Steven is missing.

He wishes he could talk to him, ask what’s going on, but Aaron isn’t sure he has it in him to comfort anyone right now—not when he feels like he himself might fall apart at any moment.

“I want to stay,” Steven says, his voice small. “At least until you hear back from Emily—”

“Your dad’s going to kill you. And as I said, you’ll miss your flight.”

“Fuck that shit.” Steven clenches his jaw, looking away. When he looks back, he’s teary-eyed. “I’m a terrible friend. I want to be here for—”

Aaron takes him by the shoulders and meets his eyes. “You’re my best friend, idiot. So what if you live far away? I’ll call. I’ll call you so frequently you’ll be tempted to block me. Don’t feel guilty. I know your dad is intense, okay? I don’t want you to get in trouble because of me.”

Steven stares at him, then his mouth squeezes in a way that looks like he’s holding back tears. “This sucks.”

“It does.” 

It really does. Aaron wishes he could go back to that night he brought Julian to watch Silent Riot perform at a bar for the first time. Everything was so much easier back then.

“Call me if you need anything,” Steven says. “Promise me.’

“I promise. And the same goes for you.”

Steven steps away. He sniffles. “I’ll see you around. Tell Julian hi for me, just until I can do it myself.”

Aaron nods. “Drive safe.”

No more words are exchanged between them after that. Keeping his hand tightly around his phone, Aaron quietly watches as Steven gets into his car and starts the engine. 

A few moments later, he’s nothing more than a little dot on the horizon.

Aaron makes it back to the apartment and stands in the living room for a moment. The place feels big and hollow. He tidies up as best as he can, tossing unused boxes into the trash. 

He doesn't quite know what to do with himself, so he takes a hot shower and stands under the showerhead longer than necessary. The hot water calms his nerves, and for a moment, he feels at peace. That is until he hears his phone ringing.

He nearly slips and cracks his skull on the porcelain sink as he runs out of the bathroom, only managing to cover himself with a towel when he's already in the living room. He accepts the call with wet hands without even checking the caller ID.

"Hello?" he says, breathless.

"Hi, Ronnie. Have you been running?"

Aaron sighs and closes his eyes. "Hi, Mom. Wasn't running. I was in the shower."

"Did I interrupt your shower?"

"No, it's fine." Aaron tries not to let his disappointment color his voice. He walks into his bedroom and starts looking for clothes. "How are you? How's Annie?"

"Well, Annie and I did some baking today. She has some friends over from school, they're in her room right now. I think they're watching a movie."

"Sounds fun. How about you? Seen any movies lately?"

She laughs. "Well, I went to the movies with Thomas just the other weekend, remember? I haven't watched anything else since."

Aaron puts the call on speaker as he dresses up. "Thomas. Is that the guy with the mustache, or is he the one with the shiny bald head?"

"Neither. I've just started seeing him. He loves fishing."

Aaron hums. "He's nice, I hope?"

"Very nice. He was over for dinner last Thursday and Annie liked him."

"That's good." Aaron stands in front of a mirror as he dries his hair with a towel. When he's finished, he looks at the towel, blinking at how much hair has fallen out. Lately, it’s been coming out in clumps. He should probably be concerned.

"How about you? How are you?"

"Fine. Steven just left." Aaron walks to the kitchen and sets the kettle on the stove. Caffeine doesn't sound like a good idea right now, but no one's here to stop him anyway.

"Are you sure you don't want to come home? Even just for a few weeks?" She sounds cautious, because the last time she suggested it, Aaron kind of blew up on her.

"No, Mom," he says tiredly. "I'm alright."

She hums. It's completely expected when she says, "Is there any news about Julian?"

"No. Nothing yet," he says quietly.

"I'm excited to meet him. From what I've heard from you, he's a very sweet boy."

Aaron’s smile feels brittle. "He is."

"Well. Let me know when he's around, alright? I'll invite him over and bake my famous cookies."

"Will do."

"I love you, Aaron," she says softly. "Call me whenever, alright? Whatever you need."

"Alright."

"Right. I'll let you go now. Take care of yourself."

"You, too. Bye." Aaron hangs up and leans against the kitchen counter. The kettle whistles. He makes his tea and decides to drink it while watching the streets through the window.

He's thinking of taking a nap when he sees it—a text from Emily.

"Shit," he mutters, nearly dropping his drink as he sits on the couch. The text message only has three words, but it's enough to make tears spring to his eyes—Julian is safe.

He immediately calls her, biting his nails as he waits. Julian is safe, Julian is safe, Julian is safe. He could cry from relief.

"Hey," Emily says as she picks up. She sounds tired.

"Everything alright? Julian's alright?"

"Yeah. We're at the hospital right now."

Aaron’s heart drops to his stomach.

"He wasn't hurt when the cops arrived,” Emily says quickly. “It's protocol. They brought all the victims to the hospital for medical screenings. Julian doesn't have any serious physical injuries."

Aaron lets out a breath. "Thank God."

"Yeah." She sounds choked up. He hears a sniffle, and then, "God—he looks so thin. They had to sedate him as soon as they got him into the ambulance. He didn't see me but I saw him and—" she's cut off by a sob that leaves her mouth.

Aaron feels his own throat tightening up. His vision blurs, but he fights against his tears. If he lets his emotions take over again, he won’t get to accomplish anything. And how can he be of any use to Julian if he can’t even function properly?

So, he goes to his closet. He has already chosen a pair of jeans before he asks, "Do you need any help there? I can bring food or clothes or whatever you need."

"Oh, you don't have to—"

"Please, Emily. Let me do this.” 

She probably hears something in his voice, something desperate, because she quickly gives in. "Okay. Ray and I have been taking turns in the waiting area and in the car, but Ray has to drive home to Rose since she’ll be moving to live with us soon. He's going to pack some of her stuff and settle some things with her school before she leaves for good."

"Rose? Your daughter?" He's seen pictures of Rose, and her resemblance to Emily is uncanny. Aaron can even see Julian's features in her as well, especially the chestnut curls.

"Yeah. School's over and we've been planning to finally bring her here. We were supposed to wait for maybe a few more weeks but I want Julian to meet her sooner."

Aaron slips his shoes on and grabs his car keys before heading out the door. "That seems like a great idea. Julian would love that."

"He absolutely would."

Emily tells him which hospital they're at and they agree to meet up in a few hours before hanging up. In the silence of his car with only the engine to be heard, it finally sinks in. 

They got Julian back.  

Despite the overwhelming relief flooding through him, a sense of apprehension lingers, stopping him from truly feeling at ease.

He picks up some food and drinks along the way, constantly checking his phone for texts from Emily. When he arrives at the hospital, the sun is high in the sky and the cement is hot as he steps out of the car. He takes the paper bag of food and rushes inside. A nurse assists him and leads him to the waiting room where he immediately spots Emily and Raymond sitting in a corner. As soon as they spot him walking toward them, Emily jumps to her feet and gives him a hug.

Emily quickly introduces Aaron to her boyfriend, Raymond. Both Emily and Raymond look like they could use an entire night’s rest, and Aaron’s certain he doesn’t look any better.

"Got you guys something to eat." Aaron hands them the paper bag. Emily thanks him profusely and unwraps one of the burgers right away while Raymond takes a sip of water.

"Julian's in a stable condition," Raymond says as Aaron sits down beside him. "He's still asleep, but they're tending his cuts and bruises."

"That's good," Aaron says, the tightness in his chest loosening a bit. He looks around the crowded waiting room and wonders if all these people are also family members and friends of the other victims.

“They haven't—” Emily starts, her jaw clenched tightly. “Logan Peyton wasn't in the prostitution house. They haven't arrested him yet, but they captured most of his men, so they'll be interrogating them for his whereabouts." Emily sniffles and aggressively wipes her tears away. "They haven't fucking found the bastard yet."

The man who's made Julian's life a living hell is out there somewhere and can still possibly escape. Aaron’s certain he’s never been more furious in his life.

“They’ll find him,” Aaron says firmly. “It’s just a matter of time.”

And he has to believe that, otherwise he might truly lose it.

At some point, Raymond goes home to shower and rest. Emily refuses to leave her seat and merely demands that he bring her a change of clothes. During the hours that follow, it's just Aaron and Emily sitting side by side, and eventually, Emily falls asleep with her head resting on the wall. Aaron regrets not bringing his phone charger as the battery level approaches 10%, but he still manages to let Steven, Tommy, Casey, and his Mom know about the good news.

The next time Aaron is conscious, he can see that the sky is already dark overhead and Emily is speaking to a doctor near the nurse's station. He rubs the sleep from his eyes and stretches his back, his neck already feeling sore from his awkward sleeping position earlier.

The doctor leaves and Emily rushes to him, eyes wild. "Julian's awake."

Aaron's heart skips a beat. He has to physically restrain himself from standing and marching to Julian’s room. It’s just—he has to see him. Has to see for himself that he’s okay. 

But he also doesn’t want to cause any distress to Julian. Who knows how he’ll react to seeing Aaron after all this time? 

So, Aaron says, "You should go see him. I'm sure he's scared right now. I'll look after your things."

Emily looks like she's barely listening. She grabs her phone from her bag and nods nervously. "Yeah. Okay. Oh my God."

"Go on," Aaron urges her on with a tight smile. "Your baby brother's waiting for you."

With that, Emily is off. She eventually disappears down the hall, and Aaron stays where he is, left with nothing but empty silence.

Chapter Text

“He's not ready to see anyone else yet.”

It's the first thing Aaron hears when he blinks awake from a fitful nap in the hospital waiting area. There's a kink in his neck from his awkward position, and his throat feels painfully dry. Hours must've already passed since Emily went to see Julian.

And Emily… well, she looks worse for wear. There was a spark in her eyes before she left to see her brother, but now, that brightness is gone. Somehow, the bags beneath her eyes seem even more pronounced, and her lips are pursed in a tight, upset line. 

Aaron knows things aren’t going to be easy, but it still leaves him dejected.

“What happened?” Aaron asks quietly.

Emily looks down at her hands with a frown. “He won’t… he doesn’t believe it’s me. He says I’m trying to trick him.” Her frown deepens, and her entire face crumples as she tries to hold back tears. “He’s hysterical at the moment. Thinks he’s still trapped in that house.” 

It’s unfair. They’ve gotten Julian back from those monsters—but it will take time before he’s truly free from them. Aaron clenches his jaw.

“I have to go back there to talk to his doctors.” Emily smiles, but it’s a frail one. “You should probably go home. You’ve been here for hours. I’ll let you know if things are better.”

Illogically, Aaron feels mad. He wants to see Julian. The only thing keeping him going at the moment is the thought of seeing him. But apparently, he can’t. And he knows it’s not Emily’s fault, much less Julian’s. He knows all this. 

None of it stops a sharp spike of anger from running through him, though. Anger at those fucked up men who caused Julian so much pain that he’s out here doubting his own sister. Anger at Emily for not protecting Julian better. Anger at himself for not being able to do anything to lighten Julian’s pain.

He forces himself to stand. Ignores the soreness in his limbs from hours of sitting, pretends he doesn’t feel hunger gnawing at his stomach. “Alright. Keep me updated.”

His tone is clipped, revealing more of his true emotions than he would’ve preferred, but he can’t find it in himself to care. 

Emily just nods, crossing her arms over her chest. “I will.”

So, Aaron drives home, his knuckles white where they grip the steering wheel. He takes a hot shower and lies in bed for a while, but when sleep refuses to come, he heads to Caffeinated. He finds Tommy and Casey there, both worried yet cautious when they ask questions about Julian. Aaron just tells them the basics: Julian’s safe, he’s stable, he isn’t physically hurt. He’ll be fine. He’s with his sister. No, I wasn’t able to talk to him. No, I don’t know when I’ll be able to. I’m fine. Really. 

He leaves the café and hops back into his car. As he drives, he keeps one eye on the box sitting in the passenger seat. After parking, he grabs a piece of paper—an old receipt that’s completely blank now—and thinks hard and long about what he wants to write.

Aaron meets Emily at the hospital entrance, and her smile is apologetic. But Aaron just hands her the box, tells her to call him if she needs anything, and turns to leave.

On his way back to his apartment, he thinks about Julian. He hopes that when Julian sees the box of red velvet cake, he remembers the fateful Wednesday evening when they first properly spoke at Caffeinated—that one time Aaron spontaneously decided to include a free slice of cake in the pretty boy’s take-out bag, a boy whose name he didn’t even know yet. 

He hopes it reminds Julian of sweeter, simpler times—because that’s what Aaron remembers when he thinks about it. 

He also hopes that the words Aaron scribbled on the old receipt can lift some of the weight on Julian’s shoulders, if any at all.

Thinking of you. Always. 

- A

𖤓

Time seems to move slower. 

Between reviewing for his upcoming engineering exam and taking longer shifts at Caffeinated, Aaron feels like he’s trudging through each day. Without Steven constantly by his side, his world is quieter. Without the pressure of classes and grades that he used to have in school, his world feels more aimless.

Without Julian, his days feel significantly dimmer. 

“That’ll be five dollars,” Aaron says.

The student hands over his payment, grabs his tray, and turns to leave. Aaron watches as he joins two other boys—students, too, by the looks of it—and starts chatting with his friends.

Aaron serves several more customers after that and keeps up with the lunchtime rush, the café buzzing with activity. But despite the steady stream of customers, he’s never felt lonelier in his life.

When there’s finally a lull in the rush of guests, he tells his shift partner Katy that he’ll take a quick bathroom break. She’s relatively new, so she’s nice about it and tells him that she’s got everything covered and he should take all the time he needs.

He exits through the back, sighing once he makes it outside. Instinctively, he reaches for the pack of cigarettes he always has in his pocket. He quietly curses when he realizes he almost finished the whole pack. He’ll have to drop by a convenience store later on his way home and stock up.

Lighting his cigarette, he leans against the brick wall and takes a slow drag. He checks his phone, expecting nothing but still feels crushing disappointment when he notes that there are no new messages or missed calls.

He exhales a stream of smoke and closes his eyes.

“Since when do you smoke?”

It’s Tommy. He joins Aaron by the wall, sticking his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Aaron didn’t even realize Tommy was going to be at the café today—he’s been busy lately. Aaron hasn’t asked why he’s been busy, and while that realization would’ve made him feel guilty in the past, now, he feels nothing at all.

Instead of answering Tommy’s question, Aaron offers him one of the remaining cigarettes. As expected, Tommy declines with a small wave of his hand.

More for Aaron, then.

“We got booked,” Tommy says out of the blue. “Ever been to the new bar down Eleventh Street? It’s called Neon Midnight. Casey’s friends with one of the girls who work there, and she mentioned we play. So they invited us to play on Saturday.”

That’s a good thing, isn’t it? It’s been months since Silent Riot played. “You told Steven?”

“Hard to reach him these days,” Tommy says, the corners of his mouth tilting downward. “But by some miracle, he answered my call yesterday. Got to chat a bit, then I told him about it and he said he’d come.”

Aaron hasn’t seen Steven once since he moved out in May. It’s July now. They’ve spoken on the phone plenty of times, but it’s not the same.

He takes another drag from his cigarette. “We’ll need to rehearse.”

“We can rehearse in the morning. Before we perform.”

“Alright.”

It’s quiet after that. With Tommy, it always kind of is. The man doesn’t talk for the sake of talking—if he’s got nothing to say, then he won’t put himself through the trouble of speaking to please anyone at all. That’s why silence with Tommy has always been comfortable. 

This time, though, it feels different. It’s a heavy kind of silence, far from comfortable. Aaron knows he’s to blame. He knows, but he can’t find it in himself to care.

“Aaron…” Tommy starts, and there’s that tone—the soft, gentle tone a parent would use on their kid who’s throwing a tantrum, or the placating voice someone would use on a terrified, cornered animal.

Aaron fucking hates it.

“Can we not?” Aaron doesn’t mean to snap. But he doesn’t apologize for it, either. 

“We’ll have to talk about it at some point.” Tommy’s tone is matter-of-factly, almost nonchalant. 

“What’s there to talk about?” He huffs. “You know what’s going on. You know what’s bothering me. What else is there to say?”

“Just want to remind you we’re—”

“—here for me, I know. I fucking know.” Aaron throws the stick on the ground. Crushes it. “You ever thought maybe I find you unbearable? For always being in my face acting like my fucking dad or something? And even if I did want to talk about it, it’s not like you can fix shit. There’s nothing you can do that can make anything better, so save yourself the trouble and just fucking drop it. And while you’re at it, tell Casey to get off my case, too. Go play hero somewhere else.”

It’s silent again. Cars drive by, and a honk cuts through the air. But no one speaks. 

Aaron itches for something, so he takes another cigarette stick, lights it, draws a breath of smoke, and releases it. He keeps his eyes on the plume of smoke as it rises in the air, and it’s almost enough to distract him from Tommy’s quiet footsteps as he retreats back into the café, the door clicking as it closes behind him.

He ignores the building pressure in his chest. The blurriness of his vision. Instead, he smokes through the remaining cigarette sticks in the box until Katy fetches him and meekly asks him to help her at the counter.

The rest of the day passes as every other day does—slow. Always so torturously slow. 

𖤓

Emily finally returns his call on a random Thursday.

Aside from a few texts, he hasn’t properly talked to her since that day at the hospital directly after Julian’s rescue.

Aaron has been patient. He’s been nothing but patient. He knows it’s a delicate situation with Julian, so he won’t force himself into Julian’s space if he isn’t ready. He won’t be able to live with himself if his mere presence makes things even worse. After all, maybe Aaron reminds Julian of the shit he’s been through. Maybe every time Julian remembers Aaron, he thinks of the worst moments in his life. Thinks of Logan Peyton, of all people. 

It hurts to think that that might be the case. It fucking kills him. But if that really is the case, then Aaron will give him all the space he needs. Even if Julian never wants to see his face ever again, Aaron will respect it. He thinks it might kill him, but he’ll respect Julian’s decision. He knows he will.

Still, that doesn’t mean Aaron should be left in the dark about what’s happening. Emily promised him, after all, told him she’d keep him updated about Julian. Aaron may not be the face Julian needs to see right now, but for the love of God, doesn’t Aaron deserve to know how Julian is doing? Doesn’t he deserve that, at the very least?

So, when he accepts Emily’s call, all of Aaron’s inner turmoil rises to the surface. It makes him unkind—harsh, even. He can’t help it. “You finally decided to call.”

There’s a beat of silence. Emily must’ve been taken aback by his sharp tone, because she scoffs in offense. “Excuse me?”

“Two months,” Aaron grits out. “It’s been more than two months since Julian was rescued—and I’ve been texting and calling you nearly every day. You couldn’t respond? Couldn’t take two fucking seconds to tell me what’s going on?”

Aaron knows where Emily lives. He knows it’s where Julian has likely been staying, too. He’s had to physically keep himself from turning up at her front door like a psychopath, but he fucking managed it. Besides, Aaron wouldn’t have gotten that idea in his head in the first place if Emily had just talked to him. 

“I’d be happy to tell you whatever you need to know if you’d stop fucking yelling,” she snaps back, her tone just as cutting as his, if not more. 

It’s enough to knock some sense into Aaron. To remind him that yelling and getting carried away by his anger has never led to anything good. So, he takes a deep breath, wills himself to calm the fuck down, and then sighs. 

Quietly, he says, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Emily.”

She doesn’t say anything for a few moments, and Aaron’s heart climbs to his throat, thinking that she’d hang up on him. It would be a valid reaction. Aaron knows he shouldn’t have yelled—shouldn’t have antagonized her like that. He knows, but he can’t control himself. It’s something he’s been struggling with lately.

Thankfully, Emily doesn’t hang up. However, her tone remains clipped. “I’m sorry for not calling, too. I… it’s been tough on me, too. With everything happening, you were one of the last things I thought about. You understand why, right?”

He sighs. “Yes. I get it.” 

“Julian’s okay. Well, he’s as okay as he can be. He’s adjusting. Raymond and I try to help, but…” She lets out a breath. “We don’t really know what we’re doing. Sometimes, I think we make things even worse.”

“What do you mean?”

“For starters, he doesn’t trust Raymond. Julian met Ray when he was like, fourteen, but only briefly. So, Julian doesn't really know him. The first night Julian slept here, Raymond crashed at his friend's place to give Julian some space. We planned to keep that up for the next few weeks, but last night Ray had to come by to get some clothes. Turns out Julian wasn't asleep yet and they ran into each other. Long story short, Julian freaked the fuck out. He—he wouldn't stop yelling. Even when Ray left the apartment, he still wouldn't stop crying."

Aaron leans against the countertop, roughly dragging a hand down his face. Even now, Julian can’t even be fully comfortable in Emily’s apartment—a place where he should feel the safest.

“I wish—I wish I knew what I was doing,” Emily says, her voice trembling. "I'm scared I'm fucking this up for him because I don't know what to do. Or because I'm doing it wrong. Or I'm not focused enough. He needs actual, professional help, but that doesn't seem plausible yet. At least not until he's somehow settled down. Shit, Rose isn't even living with us yet. I don't even think it's a good idea to bring her here yet."

He swallows past the lump in his throat. “Is there any way I can help?”

She takes a few seconds to respond. “I’m not sure. Julian loved the cake, though. He’s been struggling to eat, but he ate the cake you brought.” Her voice softens. “I think… I think he really could use a friend.”

Those words make it easier to breathe again. “I’m right here. Whatever he needs, whenever—I’m right here. I’ll be waiting. You tell him that, alright? Please.”

“I will,” she says. “I think he knows, but I’ll tell him anyway.”

“Thank you,” Aaron whispers. 

They say goodbye not long after. Emily promises to call more often, and Aaron holds onto that. It’s all he can do. 

𖤓

Silent Riot takes the stage at Neon Midnight on Saturday night, and Aaron can say without a doubt that it’s the worst gig they’ve ever had.

First of all, they were late. Steven got caught up in something and had to drive during rush hour. That meant he hadn’t had the chance to rehearse with them before the show, and by the time he arrived, Aaron had already had one too many drinks at the bar. Tommy and Casey were too busy giving Aaron the silent treatment to stop him.

The crowd was welcoming and energetic. It really would’ve been a great show if Aaron hadn’t lost his drumstick four times, and if Steven hadn’t messed up the chords because he was out of practice. Casey wasn’t in the best mood, either, and even Tommy’s flawless performance on the bass couldn’t save them.

Now, they’re all stuffed into a small booth in the corner of the bar. Another band is playing—they’re doing a much better job than Silent Riot, that much is evident—and not a single word has been exchanged between the four of them. 

Aaron knows he’s one of the main reasons their friend group feels strained. Another factor is Steven moving away and having been so busy and distant, but that’s not something they can really hold against Steven. Aaron, though—he knows he’s been a sad, miserable sack of shit lately. That’s all on him.

He waits for the familiar guilt, for the overwhelming urge to fix things. But neither comes.

“Well, that was terrible,” Steven says. He looks tired, but his smile is bright. “But I really did miss you idiots. So, drinks on me!”

Leave it to Steven to lighten things up. He’s the glue of the group for a reason.

Aaron helps him carry the drinks to the table and even presses an aggressive kiss to his forehead because he really did miss him. Steven looks delighted, and it doesn’t take him too long to get Tommy and Casey smiling, too. 

At some point, Aaron excuses himself from the table. He finds the bathroom, uses one of the urinals, then washes his hands in the sink. 

He fishes his phone from his pocket to check the time—2:47 AM—and grunts in surprise when he finds a notification of a missed call from Emily.

She called about three minutes ago, so he figures she’s still awake as he presses “call.” Leaning against the cold sink, he presses his phone to his ear, lightly humming along to the faint music from outside the bathroom.

"Aaron?"

Aaron's drunken mind takes a few seconds to recognize the voice, and when he does, his entire body goes rigid. 

"Julian?"

He suddenly feels ten times more sober than two seconds ago. He pushes past the crowd to make his way outside. "Julian? Can you hear me?" He breathes in fresh air once he's finally outside. The other line has gone silent, but he hasn’t hung up, so he tries again. "Julian?"

"Hey," Julian says, his voice quiet.

Aaron hasn’t heard that voice in a long time. Even through the phone, hearing it again brings tears to his eyes, sharp and sudden. His throat tightens, vision blurring as the weight of it all hits him.

There’s an unfamiliar emotion taking over him, and it takes him a moment to recognize it for what it is—happiness. It’s something he hasn’t felt in a while.

He feels the need to pinch himself just to make sure this isn’t some beautiful dream he’s going to be torn away from when he wakes. But it’s real. This really is happening. 

Julian has allowed Aaron to be part of his life again.

"Hey, you,” Aaron says, his voice soft. “Why are you still up?"

"Couldn't sleep," Julian mumbles. Aaron has to really pay attention to hear him. 

"You've come for a lullaby, then? I can read you a chapter of my Advanced Calculus textbook. That'll knock you right out."

There's an awkward pause, and for a moment Aaron wonders if he's trying too hard to act like everything's normal. Worries that he's coming off as insensitive. But then he hears a quiet snicker, and he feels all the tension leave his body.

Aaron feels like a schoolboy with a crush, complete with the giddiness and butterflies and all that shit. It hasn't quite sunk in yet that Julian decided to call him, completely unprompted. It’s enough to quiet that nagging voice of insecurity in the back of his mind, the one that constantly fears Julian no longer wants anything to do with him.

"But really,” Aaron says, breathless, “how are you, Jules?"

"Fine." Julian huffs. Aaron can almost imagine his eye roll. "You?"

"I'm great. I'm—I'm really happy you called me." 

I missed you, he wants to say. I’ve been missing you for months, ever since you were taken from me. I’ve been going insane.  

But he doesn't want to come on too strong or say the wrong thing. So he doesn’t say anything at all.

"I've been thinking of calling you for a while now," Julian says. He sounds… shy. "Emily told me about you. About how much you helped with the investigation. I don't think I'd be here now if it wasn't for you."

Aaron feels an ache in his chest because there’s definitely some truth in that. It hurts to think about a world where Aaron and Julian never crossed paths, a world where Aaron hadn’t been able to help rescue Julian. 

He hopes that in every universe, Julian has an Aaron—even if it isn’t Aaron himself.

“You don’t have to thank me for that,” Aaron says, voice tight. 

“But I want to,” he says. There’s a heaviness clear in his voice that wasn’t there before. “So, thank you, Aaron. You don’t even know how much you’ve helped me, even before the investigation.”

He’s thought about it—thought about how strong Julian was for seeking Aaron out, for making the most out of a terrible situation. Aaron knows their friendship truly made Julian happy, and that Aaron became something of a small pocket of light in Julian’s world.

“That means a lot to me,” Aaron says. “That I was able to help you.” 

Aaron sits on one of the steps leading up to the bar. It’s cold and slightly damp from the rain. But it’s relatively quiet out here and he’s got Julian on the phone—so nothing else matters. 

"I, um. I wanted to talk to you?"

"Of course. We can talk about anything you want," Aaron says without missing a beat.

"Is it okay if we meet up? In person?"

Aaron's chest feels heavy from how small Julian sounds—unsure and scared. He never wants Julian to be scared around him. 

"Yes, Julian. I'd love that. If you're sure you're up for it, then I am, too."

"Okay. Um. Can I be honest?"

"Always."

"I don't like being stuck here," Julian whispers. "I get nightmares. I—I just want an excuse to leave the apartment. Will you be my excuse, Aaron?"

Aaron swallows past the lump in his throat. "I'll be anything you want."

Julian lets out a quiet breath. "Thank you."

"Text me the details? No matter the time, I'm free."

"But… you work?"

"Doesn't matter. Any time, alright? You choose where you want to go as well."

"Okay."

Aaron looks up at the sky—it's less indigo and more blue now. He can feel the morning breeze already. As much as it pains him, he gently says, "You should be sleeping now."

"Right. Sorry." He hears some shuffling on the other line. Julian must be getting under the covers. 

"It's okay," Aaron says. "I'm serious about the Advanced Calculus textbook thing by the way. It might really help."

"I appreciate the offer," Julian says in a deadpan voice, but Aaron can imagine the small smile on his face. "But I think I won't need it tonight. I'm kinda feeling sleepy already."

"That's the effect I have on the people I talk to. I'm a natural snoozefest."

"Stop." Julian chuckles.

"How about I keep talking until you fall asleep, hmm? Just as, like, white noise. That stuff helps me sleep when I have a hard time."

There's a few seconds delay before Julian says, "Sure. If you want." 

Aaron pictures him in bed, messy curls spilling over the pillow, eyelids heavy as he lazily holds Emily's phone with one hand. It makes Aaron smile.

He makes a show of dramatically clearing his throat, making Julian snort. "This is the moment I've been waiting for my whole life—an excuse to talk non-stop until the break of dawn."

And Aaron does just that—he tells Julian about his last few months as a college student, their graduation, dinner dates and movie nights with Annie and Mom, reviewing for the engineering licensing exam, working at the café with Tommy and Casey, Steven moving out of the apartment, and so on. He doesn't know at which point Julian falls asleep, but eventually, Aaron says good night into the silence and hangs up.

The sun is already peeking over the horizon by the time he walks back into the bar. Steven, Tommy, and Casey are still at the same booth he left them, eyes heavy with sleepiness but still chatting animatedly.

He watches them from afar, and for the first time in what feels like years, Aaron’s smile is genuine.

𖤓

Julian's choice of a hangout spot is a park a few blocks away from Aaron’s apartment—the one with the seesaws and slides and rivers with ducks. 

Aaron drinks a cup of coffee for breakfast and spends an unusually long time in front of the mirror, brushing his hair until every strand is in place. He checks his scruff for any uneven patches, then slips into his new jeans and sneakers, pairing them with a white shirt and his aviator jacket. Before heading out, he quickly sprays on his favorite cologne, then practically sprints down the hallway.

While he’s driving, Emily calls him.

"Good morning, Em."

"Someone's perky today."

"No reason not to be," Aaron says easily.

Emily hums. "Right. Well, Julian and I are parked by the ice cream shop next to the park. We'll meet you here."

The ice cream shop is hard to miss with its bright pinks and reds. Not to mention the hoards of children pressing their noses against the glass. He finds a place to park and spots Emily and Julian standing outside their car, watching the children.

When Julian turns and meets his eyes, he feels like the breath is punched right out of his lungs. 

Julian looks as beautiful as ever—his green eyes bright under the sun, and his dark, curly hair spilling over to frame his slim face. He looks small in his large black sweater and faded jeans, but it doesn’t take away from how magnetic he is. 

Aaron feels like he’s seeing him again for the first time, and it leaves him with a warm, fluttering feeling in his stomach. 

His legs have stopped moving without his consent, so for a while, he just stands there and stares at Julian from a distance. Julian’s lips slowly curl into a shy smile, raising his hand to give him a small wave.

He’s right there, Aaron thinks. He really is safe. 

Julian looks—well, he looks alive. He looks real and tangible, and it’s an odd observation, but the relief he feels because of it is almost enough to drown him.

Eventually, Aaron gets his legs to start moving again. He stops in front of them, and for a moment, he and Julian just stare at each other. Aaron’s mouth feels dry; Julian looks even more stunning up close.

"Julian is apparently sick of my face already despite us being together for only a few months," Emily says, rolling her eyes playfully. "So. He wants to hang out with you for now. Fresh air and all that. Give me a call when I need to pick him up—"

"I can drive him back to yours, it won't be a problem," Aaron offers.

Emily considers this. "Fine. Make sure he's back before 5 PM. I'm thinking of making an apple pie."

"Sure thing," Aaron says. He's about to ask Julian if he's okay with that arrangement, but Julian has his head bowed, his eyes trained on the ground.

"Good. Give me a call if you need anything." She leans in, drops a kiss onto Julian's temple, and sends a salute toward Aaron before hopping into her car and driving off.

Now, it’s just the two of them.

"Should we go for a walk?" Aaron asks. His voice sounds relaxed—nonchalant, even—but deep down, Aaron’s heart is beating wildly in his chest.

Julian looks up and nods, his face blank and unreadable.

They walk around the park for about half an hour without either of them uttering a word. Aaron likes the silence—there's nothing but the sound of wind ruffling the tree leaves, children laughing, and bicycle bells ringing. It's peaceful, and the air is fresh and cool. He can tell that it has the same effect on Julian because his body seems looser now, his shoulders and back not as tense as they were earlier.

They find an empty bench and Julian saves it for them while Aaron buys two bacon sandwiches from one of the nearby vendors. He hands one to Julian as he sits down beside him.

"Do you feel better out here?" Aaron asks.

Julian nods slowly, carefully unwrapping his sandwich. "Yes. It feels like I can finally breathe."

Aaron watches the way his soft lashes drape momentarily over the soft skin under his eyes. He's beautiful, always has been, but Aaron can’t help but notice the dark bags under his eyes and how much weight Julian has lost. "Good. Call me whenever you want company for a morning stroll. Or for any activity, really."

Julian gives him a tight smile, but it falters. He looks troubled all of a sudden.

“What is it?” Aaron tries not to let the panic he feels color his voice. Did he say something to upset Julian?

Julian purses his lips, hesitates for a bit, and then: "Aaron, I’m sorry for everything."

"Sorry? For what?"

Julian’s eyes slowly fill with tears, his voice tremulous. “For what happened with Logan. I got you involved and you ended up getting shot. You could’ve died and I can’t apologize enough. I d-don’t know how you can stand to even be around me after that.”

So this is what it’s about.

“What happened back then,” Aaron says firmly, “is no one’s fault but Logan’s. You tried to save me—you tried everything you could. It was me who was reckless. It was my decisions that partly led to me getting hurt. But you know what?” Aaron gently takes Julian’s chin in his hand and tilts his head so their eyes can meet. “I don’t regret a single thing. I’ll try to protect you every time, no matter what, because I want to. Do you understand?” 

Tears fall down Julian’s cheeks, his breath hitching. “I thought you were dead. Logan said you were. But I convinced myself you weren’t because I don’t think I would’ve survived if I fully believed you were gone.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.” Aaron’s heart twists painfully in his chest. “Jules, can I—can I hug you?”

Julian’s response is to throw his arms over Aaron’s shoulders. Aaron pulls him close and runs a hand up and down his back. 

“I’m really sorry,” Julian says into his shirt.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Aaron pauses. “Besides, I have a cool gunshot wound now. There’s always a silver lining.”

He feels Julian’s hot breath against his chest when he huffs out an amused laugh. “You are impossible.”

“I’m just being honest.”

When Julian pulls away, his tears have stopped. He wipes his face with his hands but continues to avoid Aaron’s gaze.

“Jules?” Aaron tries. “I told you, it’s not your fault. I’m alive and well. Please don’t think too much about it.”

Julian presses his lips together and keeps his eyes on his lap. His voice is just a mumble now. "There’s something else.”

“What do you mean?”

“I lied to you, before. I told you I was a student at Holton University. That wasn't fair to you. I'm sorry."

"What? Don't be. I completely understand why you did it. It was for your own protection." 

Julian shakes his head, his expression a mix of embarrassment and guilt. "You're allowed to be mad. I'm a prostitute and I tricked you into being my friend, into letting me inside your car, your apartment. You even let me meet your friends, thinking I was just an ordinary college guy. I could've—I don't know. I could've given you a disease or something—"

"I’ll stop you right there," Aaron cuts in, shocked. Does Julian really think that way? 

He scoots closer to Julian and takes his hands, feeling their coldness. When Julian looks up, his eyes are slightly wet, lower lip trembling. Aaron’s heart breaks all over again.

"Jules, I never thought of that. Never. Because it wasn't like that. I cared for you. I still care. You were caught up in a fucked up situation that you didn't deserve to be in in the first place, and you did what you had to do. And even despite all that, you're one of the kindest, sweetest people I've ever met. That's what matters to me. I'm not mad at you—I don't think I have it in me. Please don't feel guilty about it."

Julian peers up at him, his eyes slightly narrowed. “You’re not just saying that?”

“I’m not. I promise.”

“I mean…” Julian starts. “It’s a normal thing to be mad about. Don’t feel bad about it. No matter what, I still lied.”

Aaron frowns. “You did lie, but you didn’t have any bad intentions. You were just trying to survive. And at that moment, friendship was what you needed, wasn’t it?”

Julian stares at the lake in front of them, but his eyes are unfocused. His voice is nothing but a whisper. “Yes. I wanted… kindness. And you gave me that.” 

“And I was happy to. Still am.” He tightens his hold on his hands.

"Even now that you know what I am—that doesn't matter to you? You're not disgusted?"

It sounds like it’s a question that’s like been on his mind for a long time now. Aaron knows that Julian needs all the reassurance he can get, so he gives him the most genuine smile he can muster. "I don't care about any of that. I promise. You were a victim. You're not supposed to be punished for that."

Julian nods once, but the blank and unfocused look in his eyes is still present. 

Near the lake, a family is setting up a small picnic on the grass. Two kids are playing tag while their mother's voice floats in the wind, telling them to slow down or they’ll end up tripping and hurting themselves.

"It's weird to be back," Julian says, his eyes now stuck somewhere between the thick cluster of trees on the other side of the park. "It's only been a few months but… I feel like I don't know what to do with myself. I never had to think about what I did for the day, you know? I was given tasks. All I needed to do was to get through those. Now I have so much time and I feel like I'm wasting it. Like I no longer have an excuse for having such a shitty life because I'm free to do whatever I want now."

"Give yourself time to breathe," Aaron says. "You have to focus on yourself first. Your health and well-being. You're not wasting your time—you're using it well to get better. It's not fair to expect so much from yourself yet."

The corner of Julian's mouth quirks upward. "You always know what to say, don't you?"

"I guess. We should all be afraid of the day when I no longer have anything to say because that’s when you know something’s really wrong."

Julian bites his lower lip as if to keep himself from laughing, but his eyes are smiling and he looks absolutely breathtaking. Aaron looks down at his lap and notices that Julian hasn't touched his bacon sandwich yet despite having unwrapped it.

"Not hungry?" 

Julian shrugs. "We weren't fed regularly at the whorehouse. The doctor says it'll take a while for my stomach to get used to larger amounts of food since I'd gotten used to one meal a day or less. I'm following a meal plan that's supposed to help me, but I don't know if it's working."

Whorehouse. That's what Julian calls Logan Peyton's prostitution house. Aaron pushes aside the rising emotions inside him for now and plasters a smile onto his face. "You'll get there."

“I hope so.”

They sit in silence for a while. Aaron enjoys this moment—with Julian by his side, it somehow feels like everything has fallen back into place. A weight has been lifted off his shoulders, and he suddenly feels like the world isn’t so dull anymore.

“I want to walk again,” Julian says.

Aaron and Julian spend the rest of their time together strolling through the park, their hands occasionally brushing as they walk side by side.

𖤓

It’s a gradual thing, but eventually, Julian and Aaron start hanging out regularly. 

Oftentimes, Julian calls him during ungodly hours or even during his shifts at the café. Every time that happens, Julian apologizes profusely but Aaron makes sure he knows that he'll drop everything if Julian needs anyone to talk to.

Weeks pass, and now, he and Julian have a regular schedule: On Mondays, they go to the park. On Wednesdays, Aaron goes to Emily's place with take-out boxes to watch a movie with them. On Thursdays or Fridays, they go to an art studio where they make therapeutic artworks—thanks to Casey and Tommy's membership there, which they decided to let Julian use instead.

All in all, things are going alright. Now that Aaron knows Julian's safe and is just a phone call away, he falls asleep more easily. He wakes up and goes about his day with a bounce in his step, especially during the days that follow their hangout sessions. 

Julian is quiet most of the time, but he laughs and smiles frequently as he listens to whatever Aaron decides to talk about that day. He hasn’t opened up to Aaron about anything yet, but that’s alright. While talking about what he went through can be healthy, he's also not going to pressure Julian. It’s the last thing he wants.

They're doing everything at Julian’s pace. Aaron is just grateful to even be part of the process at all.

𖤓

"Can you buy a birthday cake?"

Aaron's walking down the baking aisle with his phone tucked between his ear and shoulder, his cart rattling noisily as it glides on rusty wheels. Aaron was just telling Julian about his plan to bake cookies this weekend, which apparently made Julian think of birthday cakes.

"Oh? For who?" 

"For me."

Aaron stops dead in his tracks. "It's your birthday?"

"No." He hears Julian huff out a humorless laugh. "My birthday was February tenth. I want to have a redo."

On February tenth, he was in that house. Locked up and kept there against his will. Aaron’s knuckles turn white where they’re gripping the cart handle, but he forces himself to keep walking. 

"Alright. What flavor do you want?" Aaron says instead.

"Chocolate is always the sure way to go, isn't it?"

"Yeah, but if you want to try out something different, mocha might be good.”

"It's always tricky with mocha. It's either really good or tastes like oil. Nothing in between."

Aaron snorts. "Strawberry, then."

"Who even voluntarily eats strawberry cake? Pass."

He makes it to the cake stand. He inspects the cakes displayed behind the glass, and one cake catches his attention. "Oh, how about carrot cake?"

To his surprise, Julian says, "Now that I think about it, I don't think I've had carrot cake in a while. It was my favorite as a kid."

"Copy that, bunny."

"Shut up," Julian says with a short laugh "It's healthy."

"Mhm. Anything else I can get? Drinks, maybe?"

"I'm craving chocolate milk."

"You sure you don't want carrot juice?"

"Ew." Julian fakes gagging into the phone.

"But it’s healthy. Right, bunny?" 

“I don’t care if it’s healthy. It’s chocolate milk or nothing.”

He suddenly hears a woman's muffled voice on the other line—Emily, most likely. Then, Julian says, "Sorry, Em's forcing me to eat something. She's not going to let me borrow her phone anymore if I don't eat."

"We can't have that, can we?"

"No." Julian sighs. "Anyways. Just come over. Buy one of those number candles as well!"

Aaron rolls his eyes. "Yes, m'lord."

"Thank you. Bye-bye!"

As soon as he hangs up, Aaron catches his own reflection on the glass pane in front of him and finds a stupid grin on his face. He looks away, cheeks feeling hot.

It's almost 6 PM when Aaron arrives at Emily's place. He carries the cake in one hand and a paper bag containing Julian's chocolate milk in the other. He stands outside the door, panting from the stairs, just about to knock when he hears loud voices from inside.

"... acting like this. If you don't want to be treated like a child, then don't act like one!"

"I'm not!"

"Why do you always blow up on me? I'm trying my best here, Julian. I need you to help me out. You can't just sulk in the corner and expect me to know immediately what's bothering you and how to fix it. I'm not a mind reader!"

"Maybe if you listened to me—"

"We already talked about this. I said you're not ready yet. End of discussion."

"See? See what you're doing? I'm not a fucking kid, I get to decide what I want to do with my life!"

"I'm looking out for you, for God's sake."

"You're treating me like I'm made of glass."

"Because maybe you are! Right now, that's what you are. It's not a bad thing. You have a long way to go before you're completely better—that's just the reality of it. You being stubborn about it won't change anything."

The door swings open and he comes face to face with Emily, her eyes so intense and livid that he takes an involuntary step backward. She looks like she's been expecting him, though, because she merely sighs tiredly and brushes past him. "I'm going out. Stay with him until I'm back." And with that, she disappears down the stairs.

Aaron reluctantly steps into the apartment and closes the door behind him. Julian's sitting on the living room floor with his back to Aaron. The TV's open and he's watching a baking show. Aaron sighs quietly and places the stuff he brought on the dining table. 

He's just about to ask Julian if he wants a slice of cake when he realizes his shoulders are shaking. Aaron hears a whimper, and then he's crouching beside Julian, worry filling his gut as Julian's cries grow steadily louder.

"Hey, what’s wrong?" Aaron asks, gingerly wrapping an arm around his shoulder. Julian turns toward him and buries his face into his chest. Aaron takes that as an invitation to wrap him up in his arms and rub his back soothingly. 

"She hates me," Julian chokes out, his voice scratchy. "She hates me so much."

"Julian, that's not true—"

"I make her so miserable. She had to sacrifice so much shit for me and I can't even eat my fucking broccoli. She had to cut back her work hours so she could be here with me more. She hasn't seen her fucking boyfriend in like, four days because I get anxious around him. She can't look after Rose, her actual baby, because she's stuck here babying me."

Aaron bites his tongue when he realizes that this is one of those moments where someone just needs to vent. So, he pulls Julian closer and doesn't say anything yet.

"I wanted to get a job," Julian says after a while, his voice muffled by Aaron's shirt. "She thinks I'm not ready yet. She won't let me earn money, but then she's also complaining about how their savings are practically down to zero, and I know I'm the reason. I'm not stupid. I don't want to be a burden but she seems dead set on making sure that's all I'll ever be."

Aaron takes Julian's face in his hands and wipes his tears away. His eyelashes are clumped together and his eyes are wide and miserable as they look up at Aaron. 

"Emily loves you. She's stressed about stuff, sure, but that doesn't mean she hates you."

"She doesn’t trust me. She doesn't listen to what I have to say. Why does she get to decide whether I'm 'ready' or not? I'm the only one who can know that," Julian says, frustration thick in his voice.

"Maybe she's doing what she thinks is best for you. Though I feel like the two of you can reach a compromise and see to it that both what she wants and what you want are somehow met."

"She won't compromise. She doesn't want to change anything. I think—I think she's scared. That's how she is when she's scared. She gets all tough and angry. I just wish she wasn't angry at me."

"She's not angry at you. She's angry at the situation," Aaron says gently.

Julian narrows his eyes and pulls away from him. "Don't do that."

He blinks. "Do what?"

"You're just like her—you're talking to me like I'm some pathetic, poor kid. Don't filter yourself around me or talk down on me. I don't like it."

Aaron didn’t realize he was coming off that way. "I'm sorry. I wasn’t trying to do that. I just didn't want to upset you."

He sniffles. "Well, it didn't work."

Julian curls into himself, hugging his knees to his chest. His eyes are glued to the TV screen, obviously avoiding having to look at Aaron. After a while, Aaron gets up and opens up the cake, cutting out two slices. He returns to the living room and rejoins Julian on the floor, placing his cake and chocolate milk in front of him. Julian ignores him.

"Happy twentieth," Aaron says quietly.

Julian doesn't touch his cake until about twenty minutes later, and even then, it's just to lick the icing. 

Aaron expects to receive the silent treatment for the rest of the night, which is why he's surprised when Julian speaks. "My room only had one window. It was high up near the ceiling, just a small square. Light couldn't even come through it because a house was blocking it.”

The cake in Aaron’s mouth suddenly tastes like ash. 

"Always so stuffy in there. Smelled like sweat and sex. It was dark, too. Impossible to tell the date or time or anything. That room," Julian says, pointing at the bedroom behind them. The door’s open, so Aaron can see how it's just a small square room, just big enough to fit a bed and a closet. "It reminds me of it. I think the walls are also the same shade of white. Like, faded or eggshell white. It's weird. Sometimes it even smells like my room at the whorehouse."

Aaron wants Julian to look at him, but Julian’s gaze remains fixed ahead, his eyes empty. Aaron notices that look in Julian’s eyes all too often—it’s as if he’s not truly seeing what’s in front of him, his mind elsewhere. Somewhere far away.

"It's really odd. When I was new, they put me in the whorehouse, too. I spent months there. Then, Logan made me live with him in his apartment. I felt freer. I got to go places. I met you." Julian looks at him now, his eyes clouded. "Logan sent me back to the whorehouse as punishment. It was worse this time around. Mostly because I'd already felt what freedom was like. Not, like, real freedom, but the freedom that comes with being able to roam the streets. Not being locked in a room like an animal. That kind of freedom. It was a cruel thing to do. But Logan knew what he was doing. It was exactly what he wanted."

Aaron’s skin tingles with hot fury, his hands itching to hold Julian close and never let go. He remembers that Logan is still out there somewhere, and Aaron promptly loses his appetite.

Julian is quiet for a moment, then he shakes his head. "Sorry. You didn't ask for any of that."

"I told you before that I’m always here to listen, and I meant it." Aaron takes Julian's hand. "I want to hear whatever you need to say."

Julian looks at him, his gaze soft. "You're a good person, Aaron."

"I’m also your friend. I care about you. A lot."

Julian looks at him calculatingly. Aaron doesn’t know what’s going on in Julian’s head, so Aaron just meets his gaze and hopes Julian finds what he’s looking for.

Abruptly, Julian stands and walks to the cake on the table. Aaron follows him. Julian finds the "20" candle and places it on the cake, and Aaron lights it for him.

"Make a wish," Aaron says, smiling.

Julian sits down on the chair and rests his chin on his folded arms as he stares at the candle. Then, he closes his eyes and blows.

Aaron takes a seat beside him. "What did you wish for?"

Julian tries hard to hide his smirk but fails. "That you'd let me move in with you."

There's the sound of screeching tires in Aaron's mind. 

“Wh-what?”

Julian rolls his eyes. "You have a vacant room, right? Steven’s old one? I'll get a job and I'll pay half the rent. I'll even do all the cleaning and washing. I won't disturb you when you're studying for your exam. I'll be such a good roommate you won't even realize I'm there."

Once he finally gets his mouth to work, he manages to choke out, "Julian, Emily will kill me. She’ll actually skin me alive."

Julian's expression turns serious. "Emily doesn't decide for me. It's my decision and I'm making it. Besides, it's not like you have a crowd of people queuing up to be your roommate."

Aaron lets out a surprised laugh. "I haven't sent out the ad yet, that's why. Also, I'm not in the mood to deal with a stranger in the apartment, as well as all the socializing I'll have to do."

Julian's smile is blinding. "I'm not a stranger and I also hate socializing. See? It's meant to be."

Aaron flounders around for some excuse, for some reason why this is a bad idea. For starters, he doesn’t know if Julian is ready to live away from his sister. It’s only been two months. Julian is confident that he can handle living by himself and even getting a job, but is he really? It’s not that he doubts Julian—it’s just that so many things can go wrong. So many things can happen, and Aaron doesn’t know if he’s even qualified to be Julian’s roommate. He’s afraid to fuck up.

"Only if you want to," Julian says a few moments later, his voice quiet. He suddenly looks unsure and a bit embarrassed, as though he’s thinking of the possibility that Aaron might just not want to live with him. Which—no. Aaron can’t have him thinking that for even one second.

Aaron looks him straight in the eye. "Are you sure? Like, a hundred percent, absolutely sure?"

"A hundred and one."

Aaron sighs. "Fuck." 

At the end of the day, Aaron did promise to help however he could. He said he’d be whatever Julian needed him to be. And right now, Julian needs help getting back onto his feet, needs help becoming more independent. Julian needs to get out of Emily’s apartment because he feels like a burden—and beyond that, he feels trapped. 

And Aaron? Aaron’s in the perfect position to help him. 

He meets Julian's bright, excited eyes, and says, "Here's what I'll say—I'm not gonna let anyone rent yet. I'm not going to send out the ad. If you manage to convince Emily without one of you murdering the other, then…” He swallows, his heartbeat picking up. “Then, yes. You can move in."

Julian squeals—yes, squeals— and throws himself into Aaron's arms, nearly sending both of them toppling to the ground. Luckily, Aaron has good balance and manages to wrap an arm around his waist, hugging him back just as tight.

"Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."

"Don't thank me just yet. You still have to get through to Emily."

Julian pulls away and nods. He has a determined look on his face. "Don't worry, I'm on it."

Aaron laughs, half-amused, half-terrified. “I don’t doubt it.”

Julian gets to work on convincing his sister right away. Apparently, the way to Emily's heart is through her stomach, so they spend the rest of the evening baking.

It feels natural, how they move around in the kitchen, hands grazing each other’s skin as they go. It's intoxicating. So much so that Aaron's a little scared of the way his heart feels like it’s going to jump out of his chest at the idea of having this with Julian every day: waking up and finding Julian in the kitchen, watching a movie together on the couch, sleeping with just one wall separating them, being close to him all the time…

But that's a problem for another day.

Chapter Text

It’s a particularly slow day at Caffeinated. 

The last time Aaron served a customer was around twenty minutes ago, and since then he’s been casually leaning on the counter, subtly turning the pages of his Fundamentals of Engineering (FE) Civil Review Manual textbook that’s hidden from view. 

He hasn’t been able to study as much as he should for many reasons. But the main reason is the fact that he’s generally distracted these days, his mind flying and thinking about everything except studying. He knows he has to change this mindset because passing the FE exam is the only way he can become a licensed professional engineer, but his heart’s just not in it. 

Aaron keeps waiting for motivation to strike, for him to rightfully recognize how important this is for his future, but it hasn’t come yet.

“That looks very complicated,” says a voice.

Looking away from the book, Aaron flinches a bit when he comes face to face with Katy. She laughs, sounding a bit shy, and steps away from him. Then, she starts fussing with her apron, her face looking flushed for some reason. 

Aaron laughs awkwardly. “The formulas look intimidating, sure. But they’re really not that hard once you learn them. And, well, I spent four years studying them, so.”

“Still, though, it’s impressive! It’s amazing that you can remember all that,” she says, grinning and revealing her braces. How old is this kid again?

“I don’t know about ‘remembering’ everything. I’m familiar with the formulas and theories, but what’s more important is to know how to apply them, and in what situations they’re appropriate to use. It can be really tricky.”

“Well, I certainly won’t be taking a math-related course,” she says. 

“Oh? What are you taking, then?”

“Haven’t decided yet. I plan to apply to universities in the next academic year.” Her smile turns bashful again. “Can you—um, I wanted to ask you for advice, honestly. Since you’ve already graduated and you’re really smart. I mean—well, it just seems like you know what you’re doing. Which is cool.”

He’s flattered, but her impression couldn’t be further from the truth. Before he can tell her this, his phone starts ringing. 

It’s Emily calling. 

Immediately, Aaron excuses himself and walks toward the backroom. Emily hasn’t called him in a while because they tend to see each other regularly whenever he visits Julian anyway, so he’s a bit anxious.

“Hey, Em—”

“Where are you?” Sharp and cold.

“Um… Caffeinated?”

“Stay there.” Then the line goes dead.

He stares at his phone screen for a few seconds and then lets out a deep sigh. He thinks he knows what this is about. 

Aaron walks back to the counter and tries his best to respond to Katy’s questions, but eventually, Emily arrives. She marches straight through the doors, and when he meets her eyes, he’s reminded of when he was younger and his mother would scold him so thoroughly that he’d be on the brink of tears by the end of it all.

If Emily’s cutting gaze is anything to go by, this might even be worse.

Aaron forces a smile onto his face. “Hey. Wha—”

"What's this I hear about my brother wanting to move in with you?"

It feels like the entire café goes quiet, but it might all just be in Aaron’s head. “Um. Well, we just got to talking—”

“And you just happened to casually ask him to be your roommate like it’s nothing? Is that what happened?”

He laughs nervously. Scratches the back of his head. “Not exactly. He was the one who brought it up.”

“And you said yes.” She crosses her arms, her jaw clenched. That unsettling look would make any weaker man quake in his shoes. 

“I said I’d let him, but only if he convinced you first,” Aaron says. He looks around, and even though the café isn’t quite packed, there are still people occupying the tables and Emily’s making a bit of a scene here. “Can we talk outside?”

Emily stares at him, then huffs and walks out through the main door. Aaron follows, but not before giving Katy an apologetic glance.

Outside, the sun has already fully set. Emily stands on the pavement, her gaze unreadable. “He told me he didn’t want to talk to you anymore.”

Aaron stumbles a bit. “What?”

“When he just got out of the hospital. I brought him home and gave him the cake you got him. He sat there for a while, eating, and then he told me he wanted me to stop talking to you. That he didn’t want to see you again.”

He goes still, body numb from the shock. “You’re lying.”

“And why would I lie?” She huffs. “You have no idea how unstable he was in the beginning. He cried nearly every day, barely ate, barely left his room. Would barely even talk to me. You know why? Because he was ashamed. He was in shock from everything that happened, and he just didn’t want to be perceived. Didn’t want to be judged. And you know who he was most scared of being judged by?”

Aaron looks toward the road, swallowing. “Me.”

“Yes. You. He said you probably hated him and were disgusted by him. That he tricked you and got you hurt. He felt like he didn’t deserve to be your friend after all that.”

Aaron’s throat feels tight. “It was never like that. I would never—”

“I know. I know, okay?” Her eyes shine under the lamppost, glassy and red-rimmed. “I’m bringing this up because I want you to know Julian has a long way to go. If I hadn’t convinced him to talk to you, he never would have. It took him months to ‘forgive’ himself for what he went through, to allow himself to have a friend again. To be close to you again. Months, Aaron. So sue me if I’m acting this way about him moving in with you because it feels like it’s too fast. It’s way too soon.”

Only two months ago, Julian was still trapped in Logan’s prostitution house. And when he was rescued, it took him a long time to adjust to his newfound freedom. During that time, he probably thought that distancing himself from everything and everyone—including Aaron—was the best way to protect himself. 

Aaron’s gut feeling was right, after all—Julian didn’t want anything to do with him, at least at first. Getting confirmation of what he’d thought all along stings, but he can’t hold it against Julian. Not when he was just coping the only way he thought he could.

“When you guys hang out, you see him at his best. He smiles and laughs, and sometimes he’s talkative, but most of it is a front. He pretends to be okay for your sake. Do you get that?” Emily’s voice turns soft toward the end. “He cares about you a lot. He values what you have to say, what you think of him. Some days, I wonder if you’re the only reason he gets out of bed at all.”

Aaron’s vision blurs with unbidden tears. “I know it’s not easy for him. That he’s hurting more than he shows.”

Emily’s boots scrape against the pavement, and then she’s standing right in front of him. “I think you’re a great friend to him. I think Julian would be in a much worse place if it weren’t for you. But I need you to know that that might not be enough. I’ve been taking care of him, and you have no idea how hard it can be. He breaks down, and you don’t know what triggered him. He throws tantrums. He takes out all his misdirected anger on you. Is your ‘friendship’ enough to handle all that?”

He knows it won’t be a walk in the park. Of course it won’t be. But it doesn’t scare him, doesn’t make him want to change his mind. He thinks nothing ever will. “I can handle it. I promise you, Emily.”

She fixes him with a piercing, scrutinizing stare. Then, she shakes her head and looks away. “I just don’t want him to be heartbroken. You’re important to him. If you somehow get into a serious misunderstanding or argument, and it somehow ruins your friendship, it will destroy him.” She looks back at him. “And he’s been hurt enough.”  

“Nothing will make me leave his side. Trust me on that. Unless Julian himself tells me to never speak to him again.”

She frowns. “You say that now—”

“Emily. I’ve been here every step of the way. There hasn’t been a single day I haven’t thought about him or worried about him since he disappeared, and even before that. I was ready to throw my entire life away to protect him, to get him back.” His voice cracks. “Does that sound like someone who would easily give up on Julian?”

It’s quiet for a few moments, and Aaron can tell that Emily is deep in thought. Eventually, though, she sighs deeply. “I’m still not sure if this is a good idea.” 

"Have you talked to Julian?" Aaron asks. "Because he told me how the room he's currently in reminds him of that room he was locked up in. He feels like he's a burden. He feels guilty that you can't be with Raymond and Rose. But beyond all that—I think we underestimate him quite a bit. Julian has survived shit we can't even imagine. I think it's fair to say that we can trust him on this, especially since he's obviously doing it to move forward with his life. He doesn't want to be stuck. If we continue acting this way around him… he'll always be reminded of what he went through.”

Something changes in Emily's eyes—suddenly, her gaze isn’t so sharp anymore. Her shoulders fall. "He told me all that. For once, we actually spoke to each other and listened. No shouting, no fighting. I just—" She presses her lips together. "I have this irrational fear that if I let him out of my sight, he might be taken again. That it might be the last time I see him. I can't let that happen again, Aaron. Not again."

Aaron sympathizes with that. He has that fear, too—yet he has always been reluctant to voice it out loud, because can he truly lose Julian if he was never his in the first place? He isn’t family like Emily. He’s a friend, at most, one that Julian trusts. But even then, he constantly wonders if he has proven himself worthy enough to justify his fear of losing him.

“You’re talking to a man who quite literally took a bullet in an effort to protect him,” Aaron says, and it brings a small smile to Emily’s face. "Julian's not going anywhere. I'll be with him every time he goes out. My apartment building is well-guarded now because of the incident, and there’s been a couple of security system upgrades, too. Plus, we'll keep in touch with you and keep you up to date. It's not like my apartment's that far away, is it? You can always visit each other. But living separately will give you both the space you need. Give you a bit of breathing air."

Julian told him that Emily hasn’t seen her own daughter in weeks, if not months, and she barely gets to spend time with her boyfriend. Aaron knows Emily loves Julian and is incredibly protective over him, but there must be a part of her that misses Raymond and Rose. And hopefully, part of her also understands that Julian also needs his own space despite how that might go against her protective instincts. 

It’s a win-win situation in Aaron’s eyes, but he also understands why Emily is reluctant.

“I think,” Aaron says quietly, “Julian deserves to make this decision for himself.”

Emily doesn’t say anything right away, but when she does, she sounds resigned. “Maybe I’m part of the problem, too. I’ve been too overbearing. I think the last thing Julian wants these days is to be controlled by someone. For his life to be dictated.”

“For what it’s worth,” Aaron lightly bumps her shoulder, “I think you’re doing your best. It’s not easy. You’re not exactly trained for this. And what matters is that you always have the best intentions.”

Emily nods, almost to herself. Then, she turns to him. “Speaking of intentions…” She narrows her eyes. “I like you, Aaron, but this is my brother we’re talking about. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you look at him.”

Aaron feels his face burn. “Wh-what?”

“You have a crush on my brother.”

He chokes on his spit. “I have a—what! What are you talking—?”

“Don’t play dumb. Maybe ‘crush’ is too shallow, but you get my point.” She crosses her arms over her chest, and despite Aaron’s height advantage over her, it feels like she's looming over him at the moment. “If you try anything with him, especially when he’s not ready or willing, I will make sure you regret it. And trust me, I have a very creative imagination when it comes to payback.”

Aaron gapes at her in disbelief. “I—I would never! I know what Julian’s been through, I would never do anything to hurt him in that way—or any other way.”

What is she even implying? That he’d, what, force himself on Julian just because he has something of a crush on him? Aaron’s not like those fucking disgusting monsters. The mere suggestion that he would act the way they would turns his initial shock into fury.

“But you’re still a man.”

“I’m not a fucking animal,” he snaps. He feels sick to his stomach at the mere insinuation that he’d do something vile like that. “Call it what you want—a crush, whatever. Doesn’t change the fact that I’m not a rapist. You think I’d do that to Julian? After everything?” 

She watches him closely. “You can’t blame me for bringing this up. After everything that has happened, I have the right to be suspicious of everyone, and that includes you.”

He's still deeply offended that Emily would even suggest Aaron is capable of something like that, but beneath his burning indignation, he understands why this conversation is necessary. If he were in her shoes, he’d probably do the same—or maybe he’d be even more violent when it comes to making threats.

“I’m personally installing a lock on Julian’s bedroom door and only he has the key to it. And if any incident happens—anything at all, Aaron—I’m taking him back and putting you in jail. Do you understand?” 

He meets her firm gaze. “Yes. I understand.”

“Good.” She checks her watch. Clicks her tongue. “I’m late for dinner.”

As she turns to leave, Aaron says quietly, “Thank you. I think Julian really needs this. I’ll take care of him, no matter what.”

Emily quietly observes him. But she doesn’t say anything—she merely gives him a single, firm nod before walking away. Aaron stands there, watching until she rounds a corner and disappears.

𖤓 

Julian is set to move into the apartment today, and Aaron has been a jumble of nerves since he woke up.

He cleaned Steven's old bedroom—which is going to be Julian's bedroom—about four separate times now. He mopped all the floors in the apartment. He even did some grocery shopping. Soon, he realized that he was definitely overdoing it, so he video-called his mom and sister to distract himself. He should've known they'd catch on immediately.

"Your place looks so clean," Mom says, her eyes widening as she makes a show of craning her neck to see the place. Aaron switches his phone camera so they can fully see the living room.

"Well. I cleaned a bit 'cause my new roommate's gonna move in. Though I don't think he has a lot of things, just clothes and books and bed sheets—that type of stuff. I guess I didn't have to clear up the living room and kitchen because it's not like he's going to bring any furniture. But I thought, might as well, you know? Also, at least the bathroom—"

He's cut off by the sound of Annie's laugh. Aaron frowns and switches the camera back so they can see his face again. In between fits of laughter, Annie says, "You're trying to impress your new roommate! I cannot believe it! Is he cute? Can you send a picture?"

He feels heat rise up his neck. “It’s just cleaning. And it's what any decent adult would do."

Mom's face comes into view, and she's raising an eyebrow. Aaron already doesn't like this. "Didn't you say it was Julian who was going to move in? You know—your good friend Julian? The one you always talk about—"

"And that ends our call," Aaron cuts her off loudly while Annie's laughter continues to echo in the background.

"We're just playing around, c'mon now," Mom says, though the teasing tone of her voice remains. "I was serious when I said I'd love to meet him, by the way. I'm intrigued, truly—"

"Send a picture of him!" Annie chimes in.

"—and I'm sure he's wonderful."

Aaron is not blushing. He pretends to busy himself by fixing the spice rack even though he's done that several times already. "Please don't make it into a big deal. We're friends. He just needs somewhere to stay as he tries to find his footing. I have a vacant room. It's all common sense."

Mom hums sarcastically while Annie squeezes her face into the shot just to wink. Aaron fights the smile blooming on his face and fails.

"I wanna meet him too! Can I?" Annie says.

Suddenly, Aaron hears a buzzing from the intercom. That must be Julian.

“Okay, um, gotta go,” Aaron tells his mom and sister. “Talk to you later.”

They say goodbye, and then he hangs up. As he approaches the panel by the door, he feels his stomach flip. He presses the button and leans in. “Yeah?”

A crackle of static, then Julian’s voice. He sounds a little breathless. “Hey! It’s Julian!”

Aaron exhales a laugh. “Yeah, I figured.” He presses the button to unlock the door. “Come on up.”

He hastily finger-combs his hair and checks his reflection in the mirror near the door. He looks alright. Then he breathes into his cupped palm to smell his own breath. Clean and minty.

Only a few minutes pass before there’s a knock on the door. He’s quick to open it.

“Hi!” A red-cheeked and red-nosed Julian greets him on the other side with his signature lopsided smile. He's carrying a box with the word "BOOKS" messily scrawled on it.

“Jules,” Aaron greets warmly, taking the box from him and carrying it inside. “Come in.”

“Em and Raymond were just behind me. They’ll be here in a bit.” Julian steps into the apartment, hands tucked into the pockets of his large windbreaker. For a moment, he just stands there in the hallway, tapping a foot on the floor repeatedly as he looks around, lips pursed.

A small smile tugs at Aaron’s lips when he realizes Julian must be feeling shy right now. 

It’s absolutely endearing.

“Sorry we’re a bit early,” Julian says after a while. “We finished packing sooner than we expected, and I didn’t want to sit around and do nothing, so I kind of nagged Em to drive me here already. She got annoyed and eventually caved.” He smiles cheekily.

“You’re just on time, really.” Aaron heads for Julian’s room, raising an eyebrow at him. “Should we unpack your books right away? Steven’s old bookshelf is still in there. He says it’s all yours.”

“Oh, that’s really nice of him!” Julian trails after him, eyes bright with curiosity. “I actually haven’t seen my room yet. I know Em dropped by earlier this week, and I was supposed to come, too, but…”

True to her word, Emily did stop by to install a new lock on Julian’s door a few days ago. Aaron was disappointed that Julian couldn’t make it, but according to Emily, it was one of Julian’s “off” days, meaning Julian needed some alone time and it was best not to disturb him until he was feeling up to it.

“That’s alright.” Aaron grips the doorknob to Julian’s room, his palm feeling weirdly sweaty from nerves. He shoves the door open with a flourish. “Spotless, top to bottom. I had to deep clean every inch because Steven used to stay here, and let me tell you, that man could’ve been a one-man EPA violation.”

Julian snorts. “You’re mean.”

“Just being fully transparent.” Aaron winks. He sets down Julian’s box on the study desk—another piece of furniture Steven left behind—and turns to survey the room alongside Julian.

It’s a decent room; there’s plenty of open space in the middle, a queen-sized bed pressed to the far right side of the room, and a large East-facing window right beside it. Steven’s old bookshelf sits across the bed, beside the study desk. Beside the door is a built-in closet. Similar to the rest of the apartment, the room has a white oak hardwood floor, and it’s paired with Steven’s old pale blue wallpapers. All in all, the space feels light and open.

Julian looks around, his smile gradually widening until he’s grinning. “I like it.”

“I knew you would.” Aaron can’t help but grin as well. “Plenty of space to do whatever you want.”

Still smiling, he sits on the bed. Sunlight filters through the window, painting his face in soft, golden light. His eyes look even more stunning like this—so much so Aaron feels his heart skip a beat. 

He truly is the most beautiful person Aaron has ever seen.

“You know,” Julian says slowly, running his hand over the fresh bedsheet as though to straighten it, “I know this isn’t easy for you, either. So thank you. For letting me stay here.”

Aaron walks toward the bed and sits beside him. Their thighs and shoulders touch. “How is it not easy for me? I have a roommate now, and if my memory serves me right, he said he doesn’t mind cooking or cleaning.” Aaron turns his head, meeting Julian’s amused look. It’s the openness in Julian’s face that makes him tease, “It also doesn’t hurt that he’s super cute.” 

Julian shoves him away with a laugh, cheeks turning pink. “Shut up.”

Aaron fakes a wince, rubbing at his arm. “I guess the one flaw my new roommate has is that he’s a bit violent.” 

“Violent, huh?” A flicker of mischief dances across Julian’s face. “I’ll show you violent.”

And that’s how Emily and Raymond end up walking in on them having a pillow fight. They started off on the bed but now they somehow made it to the ground—Aaron flat on his back while Julian leans over him, laughing boisterously as he attacks with his pillow again while Aaron covers his face with his forearms. Although Aaron could easily overpower Julian and end the fight, he stays put, wanting nothing more than to etch the sound of Julian’s uncontrolled laughter into his memory.

“I’m not even gonna ask,” Emily deadpans as soon as she steps inside the room, but there’s no mistaking the way she’s obviously trying to hold back a smile.

Raymond steps in next, smiling gently as he places a large box by the door. Jokingly, he says, “You guys need a referee?” 

Julian gets off the floor first, replacing the pillows on the bed. Then, he helps Aaron back onto his feet. Though he’s still smiling, it’s noticeably more muted now. 

“Sorry,” Julian says quietly. 

Aaron’s not sure who he’s apologizing to at first, but then he sees Julian quickly glance at Raymond before looking away, apprehension evident in his posture. 

Emily once told Aaron that Julian was uncomfortable around Raymond, who’s quite tall and built. It makes a familiar ache return to Aaron’s chest.

“Don’t worry about it,” Raymond says kindly, looking around. “Nice room! Plenty of space.”

“Plenty of sunlight, too,” Emily adds, walking to the window to take a peek. Julian joins her, opening the window and sticking his head out. They exchange a few words, but it’s lost in the wind. 

“Hey,” Raymond says, his voice deep but quiet enough that only Aaron can hear it. “Thank you for helping Julian start over. He’s been really happy lately.”

“Of course. I want to help any way I can.”

Raymond nods, looking toward Emily and Julian’s direction. He seems pensive. “When I walked in, just now, I thought I saw a much younger version of Julian. We never really spent much time together, but Emily used to show me a lot of pictures and videos of him playing when he was a kid.” He smiles at Aaron. “You bring back that playful, carefree side of him. Thank you.” 

Those words make his chest tighten, warmth spreading through him. Raymond doesn’t wait for him to respond; he just pats his shoulder and walks toward the door, saying something about bringing up the rest of the boxes.

He looks at Julian, who’s still talking to Emily. Something about Raymond’s words lingers, settling deep in his chest. Playful. Carefree. He wonders if Julian even realizes it—how different he is around him.

Aaron hastily turns away, pretending his heart isn’t beating just a little too fast.

Eventually, they manage to bring all of Julian’s things into the apartment. Aaron then leads them to the kitchen and offers them coffee and snacks. They sit at the kitchen counter and chat aimlessly, but all Aaron can focus on is the side of Julian's knee pressed against his thigh. 

Julian is quiet—he laughs and smiles at the right time, but he doesn't contribute to the conversation. Aaron can see that he's a little bit tense—his back rigid and his hands fidgety. He knows this is a big step for Julian and that he's probably nervous and overthinking everything, so Aaron gently takes the hand resting on Julian's thigh and gives it a reassuring squeeze. A few seconds later, Julian squeezes back.

When it’s time for them to leave, Emily wraps Julian in a tight hug. "Stay safe, you hear me?" She pulls away. "You call me if you need anything, no matter what it is."

"Promise." 

"Good." 

Emily then turns to Aaron and also gives him quick a hug. While they're embracing, Emily says, "Remember what we talked about.”

The threat is very real—and Aaron feels oddly comforted by the fact that Julian has someone like Emily on his side even though the threat is directed right at him.

Raymond gives them a wave as he leads Emily out the door, and then they’re gone. Aaron closes the door behind them, feeling oddly nervous now that it’s just him and Julian.

When he turns around, he finds Julian looking out the living room window, face half-hidden by his hair. It’s a bit longer, now—curling way past his ears and draping over the back of his neck. He removed his windbreaker earlier, so now he’s just in a thin, long-sleeved shirt. 

Aaron joins him by the window, following Julian’s gaze. He’s looking down at the street below, eyes glassy. Aaron knows what he’s going to say before he says it.

“Logan showing up right there feels like it happened years ago,” Julian says quietly. “But at the same time, it could’ve been yesterday. It’s weird, isn’t it?”

Aaron hums thoughtfully.

“I wonder where he is now,” Julian says. 

He bites the inside of his cheek. His voice comes out sharper than he intends. “They’ll find him. Then he’ll rot in jail for everything he’s done.”

The last time he spoke to Officer Amak, he told him there had not been much luck in that area. Logan Peyton is still part of one of the most nefarious criminal families in the city, so tracking him down won’t be easy. But Aaron holds onto the hope that it will happen, and when it does, Julian won’t have to fear anyone anymore. He can actually be free.

Julian doesn’t say anything. He keeps staring straight ahead, the spark in his eyes long gone. 

"I won’t let him hurt you again," Aaron says, voice steady. "I swear it."

This time, Julian tilts his head, just enough to meet Aaron’s gaze. There’s a quiet, crushing sadness in his eyes. “You’re one of the bravest people I know,” he says softly. “But please—you don’t have to make promises like that.”

“But it’s true.” In fact, Aaron has never been more certain about anything in his life. “I promise.”

It’s a promise he plans to keep—no matter what.

𖤓

A week later, they've already settled into a comfortable routine.

Aaron’s schedule looks like this: he wakes up, eats breakfast with Julian, goes to the café for work, goes back to the apartment to join Julian for lunch during his break time, back to work, and then back home. 

He really doesn't mind the brisk walking he does to travel back and forth between the apartment and the café, especially when Julian's entire face lights up whenever he steps through the door to join him for lunch.

At first, Aaron worried that Julian would get too bored or lonely when he was alone at the apartment, but Julian reassured him that he was sufficiently well-entertained by Aaron’s 55-inch TV.  

Still, Aaron decides to let Julian borrow his laptop while he’s away at work so he can use the internet once he’s tired of watching movies. Plus, Julian is in the process of creating a resume and sending it out to potential employers, so having access to a computer makes things easier. The sooner he lands a job, the sooner he’ll feel more settled—and Aaron knows how much that matters to him.

So far, Emily has stopped by three times to have dinner with them, and she even brought Raymond once. After eating, Emily would always drag Julian out to the hallway, and they wouldn’t come back until around half an hour later. Aaron doesn’t know what they talk about during those times, though he suspects Emily is just making sure her brother is doing alright. 

All in all, everything seems to be going fine. 

During times when Aaron studies for his upcoming exam in the living room, Julian quietly sits with him on the couch. Some days he's quite chatty, too, talking about potential jobs he’s thinking of applying for. Sometimes, he takes a peek over Aaron's shoulder, frowning adorably when he sees a bunch of unfamiliar formulas in the book Aaron is reading. 

One time, Julian even fell asleep on the couch while Aaron was studying late. Aaron told him that he didn't have to wait up for him and that he could just go to bed early, but Julian merely said, "I like the sound when you write and turn the page of a book. It's relaxing."

They get along well. Almost too well, if he's honest. And Julian’s been… well, stable. Either Julian's been really good at hiding his emotions or he's healing from his trauma rather quickly. Aaron's always been ridiculously optimistic, so he’s leaning toward the latter.

He hopes he’s right.

Now, Aaron is in bed, tired from work, and his eyes are stinging from staring at his laptop screen for the past few hours. It's quite late—1:47 AM to be exact—and he knows he's going to regret staying up late tomorrow when he can barely keep his eyes open during his shift. 

Earlier, Julian didn't sit with him in the living room while he studied like he usually did; in fact, Julian went straight to bed after dinner, saying a quiet good night before disappearing into his room.

He tries not to overthink it. After all, Emily told him how Julian had days when he just needed some peace and quiet. This might be one of those days. Nevertheless, Julian remains at the forefront of his mind as he slowly drifts off to sleep, his eyelids getting heavier and heavier by the second. 

He's halfway dreaming when he hears it—a loud gasp followed by a shrill cry.

Eyes snapping open, Aaron gets out of bed and heads straight to Julian’s room. Illogically, the first assumption his mind makes is that somehow, Logan has managed to sneak past security and somehow made it into Julian’s room. Maybe he went through the window. Maybe he sent someone to abduct Julian, or maybe it really is Logan in there, holding a weapon. Maybe—

A sob cuts through the silence, and Aaron feels his heart drop. “Julian?”

No response. Aaron tries the doorknob, but it’s locked. He tries to tamp down the panic in his voice, but he’s not sure if he succeeds. “What happened? Are you okay?”

Again, Julian doesn’t respond. He tries the doorknob again, but of course it won’t budge. 

“Can you open the door?”

Still nothing. 

Stepping away, he takes a deep breath to calm down his racing heart. Tries to think. In a split second, he decides that Emily will just have to reinstall a new lock because the best thing he could come up with is to kick the door down so he can get to Julian. Julian, who’s crying, who could be hurt. 

Julian, who he has sworn to protect no matter what. 

Just as he’s about to kick the door down, he hears the doorknob rattle slightly. And then the door swings open, just barely. Aaron wastes no time rushing in, immediately looking around the room once he’s inside. 

It's dim and the only light is coming from the street light streaming in through the window. Despite the darkness, Aaron can clearly tell that there’s no one else in here. Logan isn’t here. 

He can finally breathe.

Aaron finds Julian standing at the foot of his bed, arms wrapped around his torso. He’s swallowed up by a large sweater paired with pajama pants, head tilted downward in a way that hides his expression from Aaron.

“Sorry I woke you,” Julian says, his voice scratchy. He sniffles. “Was just a stupid nightmare. It won’t happen again.”

A nightmare. One overwhelming and vivid enough to leave him shaking.

“I wasn’t even asleep,” Aaron says, his voice quiet. “And even if I was, you don’t have to say sorry. Ever.”

Julian sighs shakily, turning to sit back on his bed. He pulls his knees to his chest and rests his chin on them. He momentarily turns his head, just enough for Aaron to catch a glimpse of tear-streaked cheeks. “I told you I wouldn’t disturb you, that I’d be a good roommate. I’m already fucking it up.”

Aaron crosses the room and takes a seat beside him. He moves slowly enough that Julian can easily tell him to leave, but thankfully, Julian doesn’t. 

“You’re not fucking it up. I love having you here.”

Julian scoffs. He still won’t look at Aaron. “Give it a few more nights. Then you’ll want to throw me out on the streets.”

Aaron frowns. “You know that’s not true.”

Julian roughly wipes away his tears, sniffling. “I fucking hate being like this. It’s pathetic. I just wanna—I just want to forget. I want to stop being weak.”

It hurts to hear Julian talk like that. But it’s still better than not hearing him talk about his feelings at all. Aaron wants to know him—inside and out, every thought that goes through his head, the emotions he likes to bottle up inside. All of it.

“It doesn’t make you weak or pathetic,” Aaron says, placing a tentative hand on Julian’s back. When he doesn’t shake him off, Aaron traces soothing circles with his thumb. “You’re human. You’re allowed to hurt.”

Julian lets out a deep breath. When he looks up at Aaron, his lower lip trembles. His eyes are red from crying, and his lips are bitten raw. Aaron wishes he could take away all his pain.

“I’m tired. I’m just so tired.”

Julian turns toward him, and Aaron immediately opens his arms. Without a word, Julian leans in, pressing his full weight against him with a quiet exhale against his neck. Aaron holds him close, arms tightening around his slight frame.

He can't even begin to imagine what nightmares Julian has. He doesn't want to. But he knows that it'll haunt Julian for quite some time. It’s unfair and cruel, and it makes him want to hunt down every single person who has contributed to Julian’s pain. He wants to grab those demons in Julian's head by the neck and drag them out to banish them forever. He wishes he could, but he knows that this will take time, and Aaron's not the hero here despite how much he wants to be.

They don't talk for a while. Aaron continues rubbing soothing circles into Julian's back while Julian remains glued to him, clutching onto him like a lifeline. Aaron's eyes are heavy and tired, but he's never been more awake than he is now.

It hits Aaron like a truck—Julian's not okay. He tends to forget that when their days go by without an incident, when Julian's grinning and laughing, when they're chatting about random things like any other pair of friends. 

He remembers Emily's phone call a few days ago when she told him that he should bring up the topic of therapy or support groups with Julian. It will help him a lot, Aaron knows. Aaron told her he'll try. He hasn't mentioned it to Julian yet because he can never find the right time.

"How’s your mom and sister?" Julian asks out of the blue, his rough voice breaking the silence. 

Aaron tightens his arm around him. If Julian needs him to be a distraction right now, that's exactly what he's going to be. "As you know, Annie's in seventh grade. She’s been busy with ballet. Lately, she’s actually become a bit of a troublemaker, but I have a soft spot for her, so she tends to get away with a lot of things. Then there's Mom—she's doing great, as always. Busy working, but she met someone recently and I think they're becoming kind of serious." He smiles to himself. "Mom and Annie were here during my graduation. We went out for dinner and went shopping at the mall. They slept here before returning home."

Julian sniffles. "You didn't go home with them after graduating?"

"No." He pauses because he's quite sure that Julian is asking him why he didn’t go home. 

He knows the practical thing would've been to go home until he's done with his engineering exam before returning to the city to look for work. He tells everyone that he wants to keep working at the café to save up, when in reality, his salary from being a barista just barely covers his living expenses. He's not been able to save up much money at all. He could've gone home and worked there, not needing to pay rent and other bills, but he stayed here. 

He stayed for Julian.

But Aaron doesn’t say it. He doesn't want to scare Julian away in case he comes off as too intense. Maybe it's not entirely the only reason he stayed, but it's one of the main reasons, and that alone is quite a big thing to admit. Or at least Aaron thinks.

"I'm just trying to figure out my adult life. Thought I'd stick around here for a bit, see where it takes me," is what Aaron ends up saying.

Julian hums, and Aaron feels the vibration on his chest. "Emily and Raymond moved here for me. Before, when I was a—when I was still with Logan, I gave her a call. I told her not to come because Logan was threatening her safety. Of course, she did the very opposite because I let a few things slip and she caught on that something wasn't right with me. That I was hiding something. So, she came here to investigate, and once they figured out how serious it actually was, she decided to stay here. Raymond followed, too, because he said Emily couldn't take care of herself and was too stressed and that he was worried for her safety as well. Rose—they left Rose. They left her with a friend because she had school. Also to keep her safe from this mess." Julian swallows loudly, his voice strained. "I wish they didn't have to compromise anything for me."

"Julian—"

"No, listen. One of the reasons why I really wanted to move out from Emily's was because I knew they were thinking of going back home, where Rose is. Where their lives for the past few years have been. I had to show them that I can handle myself now. So, if they choose to stay here, it's because they really want to, and not because they feel like they need to do it because of me."

Aaron sighs quietly. "Are they staying here for good, then?"

Julian shrugs. "Dunno. Emily's mentioned a couple of times that they plan to bring Rose soon, though. I don't know if she's only going to be visiting or not."

"Have you ever met Rose?"

"No," Julian says, his voice going soft. "Emily left home when she got pregnant. She ran away with Raymond. I'm excited to meet her, though. I love kids."

Julian's voice is steadier now. He's not shaking anymore, and he feels more relaxed. Aaron's glad that their talk is enough to calm him down from his nightmare.

"I'm sure she'll love you, too."

Julian pulls away from him and gives him a small smile. His eyes are still puffy, his face blotchy, and his hair matted with sweat. Yet, as always, he looks beautiful. 

Julian looks down at his lap and plays with the blanket’s loose thread. "I know you want to ask what it was about."

Aaron presses his lips together. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

Julian shifts a bit. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you, it’s just—to be honest, I don't remember much when I wake up. Just random scenarios, random faces. The feeling, though. It stays with me even when I'm awake. I feel… exposed. Sore. Scared."

"Do you get them often?" Aaron asks quietly.

"I don't know. I forget. Doesn't matter, really. It's not as bad as it looks. People have been through worse."

Aaron clenches his jaw. "Just because—"

"I know, I know," Julian says with a slight roll of his eyes. "It’s not a competition. I know. Emily already gave me that speech. But… I’m just telling you what I think. Yes, those people were vile and disgusting for what they did"—his voice cracks—"but I wanna be over it. I want to leave it behind. If I let it affect me until now, I'm letting them win. And I've already fucking lost so many times.”

Tears spring to Aaron's eyes—happy ones, he believes—because Julian is trying. He's trying hard, and Aaron's going to help him get there.

Carefully, he says, "Julian, have you ever considered going to therapy? Or, like, support groups?"

He expects Julian to be annoyed or even angry because that's how he apparently reacts to Emily whenever she brings it up, but to his surprise, Julian merely huffs, seemingly unfazed. "Did Emily put you up to this?"

"She happened to mention it. But I agree with her."

"I'm guessing she told you about how I stubbornly say no every time, then?"

Aaron reluctantly nods.

"I don't want to go." Julian looks down and picks at his nails. "It’s like admitting that they really fucked me up so bad that I need to go to fucking therapy. It feels like losing again. Like—I don't know. It makes me feel weak. I hate feeling weak. It's all I've been for years."

There’s definitely a problem with that way of thinking. It sounds like Julian’s still in denial. That he doesn’t want to admit what he’s been through, doesn’t want to acknowledge it, and hopes it just goes away in time. Aaron doesn’t have to be a psychologist to know it doesn’t work that way.

But he also doesn’t want to get into an argument with Julian about it. Not when he just woke up from a terrible nightmare. Besides, no logic or persuasion could convince Julian to talk to a therapist if he isn’t ready yet.

So, Aaron acquiesces. For now. "You don't have to go if you don't want to, but can you at least think about it? You might change your mind in the future."

Julian shrugs. "Sure. I'll think about it.” 

Aaron gets the feeling that Julian only says that to appease him, but he just lets it go. He’ll just have to gently remind Julian about it next time and hope that he seriously thinks about it.

“Now, come help me go back to sleep, will you? Where's that difficult math book you were talking about before?"

Aaron lets out a surprised laugh. "I can dictate it to you from memory."

"Nerd."

He bites back a smile, watching as Julian settles back against the pillows, some of the tension finally easing from his shoulders. The nightmare still lingers in the air between them, but at least their conversation seems to have helped somewhat. That’s enough for now.

“Seriously, though, I could recite at least three theorems off the top of my head. You’d be out in minutes.”

Julian groans, throwing an arm over his eyes. “God, no. I take it back. I’ll find another way to sleep.”

Aaron chuckles but doesn’t move just yet. He wants to stay, to make sure Julian really does fall asleep okay, but he knows pushing too much won’t do either of them any favors. Emily’s voice echoes in his head, a firm reminder that he shouldn’t make Julian uncomfortable and should never cross any boundaries—whether unconsciously or not.

So, despite the desperate pull he feels toward Julian—the inexplicable urge to slip under the covers, wrap his arms around him, and stay until he’s deep asleep or even until morning just to make sure no more nightmares come—Aaron stands. He forces himself to take a few steps away from the bed even though something inside him screams in protest at being too far away, especially at a time like this when Julian needs comfort.

But it’s the right thing to do. He has to remember that. “Alright. My offer still stands. If you need me, I’m just down the hall.”

Julian doesn’t say anything at first, just shifts under the blankets. He looks oddly small right now—his entire body cocooned and only the upper half of his face peeking out.  

“Thanks, Aaron.” His voice is soft.

Aaron hesitates for a second, then nods, even though Julian isn’t looking at him. “Anytime.”

With that, he slips out of the room, leaving the door open just a crack. 

As he lies in bed, he’s overly conscious of every sound, waiting for any sign that Julian might need him again. The apartment feels too still, too fragile, like the quiet might shatter at any second.

He stares at the ceiling, exhausted but restless, his thoughts circling the same point over and over—Julian is hurting, and there’s only so much Aaron can do.

But if this is what Julian needs—someone to sit in the silence with him across the hall, to be close but not too close, to leave the door open just in case—then Aaron will do it.

No matter how many nights it takes.

Chapter Text

“Don’t be nervous.” Aaron kills the car engine, checking the time. It’s only a few minutes past 8 AM. “Seriously. They’ve been dying to see you again.” 

Somehow, Julian manages to sink even deeper into the passenger seat. A wrinkle forms between his eyebrows as he frowns, and Aaron fights the urge to smooth it out with his thumb. “What do I even tell them? They’ll want to know what happened to me.”

Aaron hasn’t shared any details with Casey and Tommy regarding the true extent of what happened to Julian because it’s not his place to do that. But because of Aaron’s incident with Logan, they think Julian got tangled up with an abusive ex-boyfriend and needed police intervention to get away from him. He told Julian this earlier, and throughout their entire ride here, Aaron has been trying to convince him that that’s enough. But Julian seems to think otherwise.

“They won’t push,” Aaron says. “If you want to tell them at some point, you can, but there’s no need to rush. They’ll understand. They’ll be happy just to get to hang out with you again.” 

Julian just sighs. He stares through the windshield, wide eyes flicking anxiously across the familiar facade of Caffeinated. From where they’re parked, Aaron can see occupied tables and a long line of customers waiting to place their orders. As usual, it’s a mix of college students picking up their morning coffee and people making a quick stop before heading to work. 

“I can’t even remember the last time I was here,” Julian says, his voice quiet. “I treated this place like some kind of haven. Stopping by was the only thing I looked forward to back then.”

Aaron smiles, but his mood plummets considerably. It's hard not to think about what Julian had to endure to get by back then—but he clings to the reminder that those days are behind Julian now.

Hoping to spark some humor, Aaron scoffs playfully. “What about the handsome barista inside? The tall one with the muscles? Surely he brightened your day more than the café itself did.”

Julian purses his lips, making a show of tapping a finger on the side of his mouth. “I vaguely remember a barista in there, yeah. He was nice. Not sure if I would call him ‘handsome,’ though.”

Aaron's jaw drops. "Ouch.”

Julian’s lips twitch. “Just don’t tell him I said that.”

“That’s smart. Otherwise he might spike your next latte with… I don’t know… oat milk.”

“Oat milk?” He laughs. “What’s wrong with oat milk?”

“You’re probably one of those people who like oat milk.”

Julian shrugs. “What can I say? I have refined tastes.”

“Refined, huh? Pretty bold coming from someone who just insulted the best-looking barista in town.”

“Oh, he’s the best-looking now, is he?”

“He’s the type to grow on you.” Grinning cheekily, Aaron leans over the center console a bit, tilting his head as he meets Julian’s eyes. “That’s why you should reconsider. Give the barista another look.”

Instantly, a pretty flush climbs up Julian’s neck, all the way to his cheeks—a sight that makes Aaron’s grin stretch even wider. Julian keeps their eye contact for a few more seconds, but then he looks away with a scoff. “You’re ridiculous.”

Aaron laughs, opening the door. “I’ll win you over at some point.”

Julian follows, a quiet smile playing on his lips. They walk toward the café together, and Aaron leads him to the employee entrance so they don’t have to squeeze in with all the customers. 

“Hey,” Aaron says, fiddling with the keys to the backdoor. “Seriously, though. Don’t worry about Casey and Tommy. You don’t have to tell them anything if you don’t want to. Just relax today, alright? Enjoy the free coffee and pastries sure to come your way.”

He nods. “Okay. I actually did miss them. They’ve always been so nice to me.”

“They missed you, too.” 

Inside, Aaron stuffs his backpack into his designated cabinet in the back room and puts on his apron. He leads Julian to the table Aaron reserved earlier—he had texted Katy to do it while they were on their way. It’s the same spot Julian always gravitated toward on his visits: the one tucked in the corner, cozy and safe.

Julian grins. “I basically own this spot.”

“It’s all yours.” 

He watches as Julian pulls out Aaron’s laptop from his backpack along with his water jug. As he places them on the table, Aaron can’t help but think that Julian blends right in; he looks like a Holton student spending a free period in a café, eager to catch up on some school work. A familiar ache in Aaron’s chest stirs at the sight.

“You can go work now,” Julian grumbles. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Alright.” Aaron steps away. “Just holler if you need anything. Even if I look like I’m busy. Oh, and if you want to, you can use the employees’ bathroom so there are no lines. If you run out of water, I can refill it for you. And do you want your coffee now? I can prepare it right away—”

He’s cut off by Julian’s amused snort. “Chill out. I’ll tell you if I need anything. Now, shoo.”

“Right.” Aaron laughs awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. He’s making an absolute fool out of himself. “Okay. Bye.”

Julian rolls his eyes, but there’s a noticeable blush on his cheeks. “Just go. Stop hovering.”

Aaron does as told. He stands behind the counter, greeting Katy and apologizing for arriving late. He can see Julian clearly from where he’s standing, which puts him at ease. 

He works through his shift with Julian in his periphery, and somehow, he and Katy manage to work through the morning rush without much trouble.

“Is he your friend?” Katy asks when there’s a break in the stream of customers. She nods in Julian’s direction.

He clears his throat. “Yup. He, uh, he’s also my new roommate.”

 “Oh! Cool.” She fiddles with her apron. “He seems nice.”

“He is. Probably the sweetest person you’ll ever meet.”

She smiles but doesn’t say anything. Aaron suddenly feels embarrassed—but, oh well. He's never been one to have self-control when it comes to gushing over Julian. 

“Oh, by the way,” Katy says suddenly, fishing something from her jeans pocket. It’s a blue beaded bracelet. “I, uh, went to a craft workshop this weekend. Made a bunch of these. Um…” She falters, smiling bashfully. “I realize this seems stupid now, but if you wanted one, I was thinking you’d like the blue one maybe—”

“Sure,” Aaron says. “That looks really cool. You made that?”

“Yes.” She grins, taking his wrist and slipping it on. “There you go.”

“Thank you.” It’s a bit tight, but it’s a nice little gift. Looks well-made, too. “You said you attended a craft workshop? Where—”

Someone loudly clears their throat. Aaron whips his head to the side and finds Julian standing at the counter, arms crossed over his chest.

“Hey!” Aaron smiles easily. “Finally want that coffee?”

“Yup.” He looks a bit uncomfortable, eyes darting between Aaron and Katy before dropping to the counter. “A latte sounds good.”

“Coming right up. How about a pastry to go with that?”

“I recommend the blueberry cheesecake,” Katy chimes in amicably. “Personal fave!”

Julian purses his lips, and then nods. “Um, okay. I’ll take that one.”

“You’ll love it,” Katy says, moving to grab a plate. “I’m Katy, by the way.”

“Julian.”

“Nice to meet you!”

“Likewise.” 

As Katy moves away to retrieve a slice of blueberry cheesecake, Aaron leans over the counter, lowering his voice. “You okay?”

“Peachy.” The word comes out sharp, edged with irritation.

Aaron raises his eyebrows in surprise. Clearly, Julian’s not in a very good mood right now. “How’s, uh, the job hunting going?”

“Fine.”

He’s not sure how to talk to him when he’s clearly irritated, so he just focuses on preparing the latte instead. A few minutes later, he sets the drink on the tray beside the slice of cake.

“Used oat milk for your refined tastes,” Aaron says as he hands him the tray.

A smile tugs at Julian’s lips. “Thanks.”

“It’s on the house,” Aaron says when Julian takes out his wallet. “I told you. You’re getting a bunch of free stuff. It’s our welcome-back promo.”

Julian raises an eyebrow. “Ah. Does Tommy know about that promo?”

“He’s the owner of this place,” Aaron says with a wave of his hand. “Of course he doesn’t.”

With an amused shake of his head, Julian steps away with the tray. “Alright. And to answer your question earlier, job hunting isn’t going very well.” His shoulders fall. “I mean. I didn’t even finish high school. Who wants to hire someone like that?”

“Julian—”

“I know you’re gonna bring up me working here again,” Julian cuts him off. “And as I said before, Tommy’s really sweet for offering. But… it just feels wrong. I don’t want to take advantage like that.”

“You won’t be taking advantage.” Aaron tries not to sound as frustrated as he feels. “Tommy’s your friend. He even prefers to have people he trusts working here. It’s really not a big deal.”

The fact that Aaron would also get to keep an eye on him goes unsaid. He knows Julian wouldn’t appreciate being watched over like a kid, so he doesn’t mention it. But besides that, Aaron would get to spend even more time with Julian, and that’s always a win in his book.

Unfortunately, Julian might not feel the same.

“Sorry. The answer’s still no.” 

He walks back to his table before Aaron can get another word in.

Aaron spends the rest of his shift distracted, moving on autopilot. Julian has been applying for jobs online nearly every day, and he’s had a few virtual interviews, but none of them called him back afterward. Secretly, Aaron thinks the most ideal job for Julian would be something fully remote so he can just stay at home and… well, just be safe in their apartment. But lately, Julian said he’s been applying to just about every job under the sun, even the ones that are onsite. Julian even suggested driving around the city to apply at stores in person if nothing turns up online—a plan that’s starting to feel more likely by the day.

By the looks of it, though, Julian wants the opportunity to be out and about. A remote job, while ideal, might make him feel trapped in the apartment—too much like the previous months he spent barely leaving his room at Emily’s. He’s already spent enough time watching life happen from the sidelines. Maybe what he needs now is something that gets him moving and has him surrounded by people.

At the end of the day, Aaron can only suggest ideas. The decision is ultimately up to Julian. 

There’s a sudden delighted shriek, and Aaron looks up to find Casey wrapping Julian up in a hug. When she pulls away, Tommy steps forward and claps Julian on the shoulder, wearing the widest grin Aaron's seen on him in a while.

Aaron is quick to join them, only to be immediately met with Casey’s accusing glare. “Why didn’t you tell us he was coming? We would’ve shown up sooner!”

“Oh, uh… surprise?” 

She gives him an unimpressed look before turning back to Julian. “Anyway. Julian! I missed your cute little face.”

“You should try our carbonara,” Tommy says out of the blue. “Hold on. I’ll cook it for you.”

Julian looks a bit overwhelmed by the attention, but there’s a spark in his eyes that wasn’t there before. “Oh, you don’t have to—”

“Please, I insist. It’s my own recipe.” He places his things down on Julian’s table. “Be right back.”

Julian can only blink at him, whatever protest he has dying on his lips as Tommy disappears behind the kitchen door.

“Tommy cooking for you is basically him declaring his undying love for you,” Aaron says as he sits next to Julian. “You should feel honored.”

Casey takes the seat across them. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t feed you three servings.”

“He does tend to cook a lot when he’s excited. Well, we can take the rest home. Julian and I can have it for breakfast tomorrow.”

“How’s that going, by the way?” Casey’s eyes are wide and intrigued. “Julian—any complaints about Aaron as your roommate so far? I hear he snores.”

Aaron scoffs. “You’re one to talk—”

Julian nods solemnly. “Every. Night.” 

He gapes at him. “Do I really?”

For a few seconds, Julian just stares at him, and then he breaks into a smile. “No. But you do move around a lot. Sometimes I hear you accidentally kick the wall.”

“Oh, tell me about it.” Casey groans. “We went camping once—the four of us—and I lost a bet and had to share a tent with him. Got elbowed in the face that very night.”

“I already apologized for that,” Aaron says, feeling his ears heat up with embarrassment. “I was a teenager, by the way. It was in the midst of my growth spurt and I was still getting used to how long my limbs have gotten.”

“How do you always have an excuse for everything? Also, that doesn’t change the fact that I looked like I got into a bar fight—and lost—for two whole weeks. It was right before picture day, too.”

Aaron opens his mouth to defend himself some more, but then he gets distracted when he sees Julian’s face. He’s trying his best to hold back his laugh, so much so that his face is turning a bit pink. His eyes twinkle under the fluorescent lights, eyelashes incredibly long, and his hair slightly tousled from his habit of running his fingers through the strands. 

It would be a crime not to admire him when he sits around looking like that.

“How did you guys meet again? Like, the four of you?”

“We’ve known each other since high school. He and Steven were sophomores, Tommy and I were seniors. We were looking for a drummer and guitarist, and they showed up. They were the best out of everyone, so we picked them. And then Silent Riot was born.”

Aaron and Steven had mostly been looking for a reason to avoid heading straight home after class. They'd seen Casey and Tommy around—small school, hard not to—but never really talked to them. When Casey mentioned they were forming a band to record and post cover songs online, Aaron thought it sounded cool. Plus, joining meant hanging out with the cool seniors, playing music, and scoring free snacks.

“We were so lame back then.” Aaron sighs. 

Casey huffs. “Speak for yourself.” 

“Right.” He turns to Julian. “Did you know Casey was the queen bee back in high school? As much as it pains me to admit it, she never really had an ‘uncool’ phase.”

“I can kind of see that,” Julian says. “And what about Tommy?”

“A total loner,” Aaron says fondly. “Kept to himself most of the time. No idea how they became a thing.”

“Tommy is an absolute goof when you get to know him,” Casey says. “We were in the same class. He helped me study for a couple of subjects. What can I say? I’m weak for smart, mysterious men.”

Julian laughs. “You guys been together since high school?”

“On and off for a while. But yeah—been going strong.”

Aaron kind of envies them in a way. Unlike Casey and Tommy, Aaron has never had a relationship last more than a couple of months. It’s not obvious to most of his friends, but he’s quite a romantic. His past relationships weren’t bad, per se—they just felt… empty. He cared for his exes, but he doesn’t think it would be truthful to say he truly loved any of them. Maybe it was because he was too young, or too inexperienced with relationships—whatever the reason, none of Aaron’s past relationships had ever felt like what Casey and Tommy had.

With a quiet sigh, he glances at Julian, eyes drawn to his full lips as he takes a sip of his drink. 

“Oh,” Casey says, “by the way, Julian, you should come to my birthday party.”

Julian’s eyes light up.

“We’re still finalizing the details, but it’s happening this weekend. I was just about to tell Aaron about it and have him invite you, too, but since you’re already here, I thought I’d mention it.” She hands her phone over to Julian. “Put your number in. I’ll text you the address and everything.”

Aaron watches as his slender fingers tap out his number. Julian smiles, but his lower lip is caught between his teeth—a tell Aaron's come to recognize as a sign of his nervousness. 

Casey’s party would be Julian’s first “real” social event since he got back. While he seems delighted to be invited, Aaron has a feeling he must be a bit anxious about it.

But Aaron thinks this will be good for Julian. Or at least he hopes so.

They continue chatting until a smiling Tommy returns with a whole platter of carbonara. Casey sighs exasperatedly while Julian stares at the thing in a slight panic. Aaron gets him a small plate so he doesn’t have to worry about finishing the whole thing.

“This is so good,” Julian says after a bite, eyes wide. “You’re an amazing cook.”

Tommy waves him off, but his smile is bashful. “It’s my hobby. You do it enough times and you eventually become kind of decent at it.”

“Thank you for making this,” Julian tells him. “I love it.”

“I have a bunch of other recipes you can try if you’d like.”

Julian smiles. “I’d like that.”

“How come you never offer to cook for me, Tommy?” Aaron says, just to be annoying.

Tommy merely blinks at him. “Aren’t you supposed to be working?”

“Oh shit, right.” He genuinely forgot. He stands, shooting Julian a sheepish smile. “Alright. Don’t have too much fun without me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Aaron spends the rest of his shift sneaking glances at the table, pulling faces whenever Julian catches him looking. The first few times, Julian just rolls his eyes—but by the fourth or fifth, his smile sticks, small but steady.

𖤓

As it turns out, Casey is throwing a beach party for her birthday.

The occasion called for some new swim trunks, so Aaron and Julian went shopping a couple of days ago. Julian also took that opportunity to buy Casey a gift even though Aaron told him that Casey wouldn’t mind if he didn’t bring any. Julian wasn’t hearing it—instead, he bought her some fancy-looking earrings. Aaron got her those shoes she’s been talking about a lot lately, going all-out since he’s been kind of a subpar friend to her and Tommy during the past couple of months. He hopes she’ll recognize it as the apology that it is.

The beach is a two-hour drive away—more if the traffic decides to be a pain—so they make sure to eat a hefty meal before leaving. If they get hungry again on the road, Aaron will get them something at a drive-through.

“Ready?” 

“Yup.” Julian puts on his seatbelt, hair still slightly damp from his shower. “I hope it doesn’t rain.”

“The weather app says it won’t,” Aaron reassures him. 

It's obvious that Julian has been looking forward to the party since Casey sent him the details. Lately, Aaron has noticed that Julian has been a bit subdued because of his fruitless job hunt, but Casey’s party seems to have lifted his spirits a bit. Just this morning, he woke up to Julian singing quietly in the shower—a welcome change after so many quiet mornings. When he emerged from his room a few hours later, he was already dressed for the party—a thin, lightweight lavender shirt, cargo shorts, flip flops—and looked quite eager to get going.

“Did you bring our gifts?” Julian asks, twisting around to check the backseat.

“Yeah, they’re in the bag right there.”

“Sunblock? Water?”

“In the bag, too.”

Julian frowns. “You sure we didn’t forget anything?”  

He laughs. “We have everything—”

“My sunglasses!” 

Before Julian can leave the car, Aaron grabs one of the sunglasses he placed on top of the dashboard and waves it in Julian’s face. “It’s right here.”

Julian sighs. “Oh, good.”

“Here.” Aaron's fingers gently curl under Julian’s chin, guiding his face toward him. He puts on the sunglasses for him. “There you go.”

Julian flips the visor and checks his reflection. “I don’t know if I want to wear this.”

"Are you kidding? You look like you just stepped off the page of some summer fashion magazine."

Julian doesn’t say anything, but he also flips the visor back up, apparently satisfied with how he looks.

“You know,” Aaron starts as he backs out of their parking spot, “we used to go on many trips. Steven, Tommy, Casey, and me. It was harder to figure out a schedule that worked for everyone since Steven and I started college and since Tommy and Casey got busy with Caffeinated, but we used to go on a lot of road trips.”

“Where did you go?”

Aaron flicks on the blinker, merging onto the main road. “Mostly nearby towns. Whatever we could reach on a weekend. There’s this lake a couple hours north—we went there at least three times one summer.”

Julian hums, fingers drumming lightly against his knee. “What’d you even do at a lake three times?”

“Absolutely nothing.” He laughs. “Swam, grilled hot dogs, tried to see who could throw rocks the farthest. We made Tommy do all the cooking because, as you know, he’s quite good at that stuff.”

Julian’s mouth curves, like he’s picturing it. “Sounds nice.”

“It was.” Aaron glances over, just for a second. “You would’ve liked it.”

Julian doesn’t answer right away, watching the scenery blur past the window. Then, softer: “Yeah. I think I would’ve.”

Aaron’s fingers flex on the steering wheel. There’s a flicker of something in Julian’s voice, something a little wistful. He hopes Julian isn’t thinking about where he would’ve been during those trips—stuck in a far less appealing situation.

Shaking his head as though to clear his thoughts, he reaches over and flicks on the radio, filling the car with the crackly hum of some indie band.

“Guess we’ll just have to make our own trips now.”

Julian turns to the window, but Aaron can hear the smile in his voice. “Guess so.”

This is where it starts. They’re heading to a beach party to soak up the sun and have fun—and in a few weeks, Aaron will invite Julian to more places, places where he’ll never feel trapped again. Maybe, if everything goes right, Aaron will take him to every spot he's been before—letting Julian claim those memories too, like he'd been part of them from the very start.

“I love this song,” Julian says a few minutes into the ride. 

It’s Summer of ‘69. “Me, too. It’s one of the first songs I learned to drum.”

“My parents—” Julian starts, then falters. He looks away, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “They always played that stuff. Takes me back.”

It makes him think of Helen. As far as Aaron knows, Julian hasn’t spoken to his mother since he got back. Frankly, Aaron isn’t sure where she is right now.

“Remember those cassette tapes and player you got me for Christmas last year?” 

He smiles. “Yeah. There was some Bryan Adams in there, too, right?”

Julian goes quiet. When Aaron glances at him, he finds him staring down his lap, looking pensive. “I don’t have them anymore.”

“The cassette tapes?”

“And the player.” Julian sighs deeply. “In Logan’s apartment, under the kitchen sink, there was a loose tile. It was a bit hollow underneath because of all the plumbing, and I managed to fit them there. I was scared Logan would find and destroy them.”

Aaron tightens his grip on the steering wheel.  

“He would’ve suspected something if he saw it. Or maybe he’d think some random client gave it to me—that happened sometimes, when they liked me a lot. But Logan doesn’t like it when that happens. And he expects me to tell him everything, so he would definitely find it odd if he found out what I was hiding.”

They stop at a red light. Aaron watches Julian closely, takes notice of the way he would always get that far-away look in his eyes whenever he talked about that man.

“But luckily, he never found it. It’s probably gone now, though. Someone else probably lives there.”

“Well,” Aaron starts, “I’ll just get you a new one.”

“Aaron—”

“Seriously. I want to.”

Julian meets his eyes, and there’s a softness in his gaze that lingers in the space between them. Eventually, he says, “Fine. Guess I’ll get you something, too.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m a giver through and through. I don’t really—”

“I’m getting you a gift. End of.”

Aaron sighs dramatically. “You sound so much like Emily right now.”

Julian groans. “Never say that to me again.” 

“Just an observation.”

“Yeah, well.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Keep it to yourself.”

Aaron grins and continues driving. 

𖤓

The beach is already alive when they pull into the parking lot. The sun is high but not blistering yet, casting a golden sheen over the sand. Aaron kills the engine, letting the sudden quiet settle between them.

Julian flips the visor down, checking his reflection again in the mirror. He’s been doing that a lot—small, almost nervous adjustments to his hair, the sunglasses Aaron lent him perched on the bridge of his nose.

Not wanting to be caught staring, Aaron looks away, out toward the stretch of sand where clusters of people are scattered around picnic tables and beach blankets. Casey’s party isn’t hard to spot—they’ve staked out a shaded patch under a wide, sloping canopy, a small speaker set up beside one of the canopy legs. A cooler sits nearby, along with folding chairs and the beginnings of a makeshift buffet spread. Aaron can already imagine them getting tipsy on cheap beer and dancing barefoot in the sand by sunset.

It’s exactly the kind of thing Aaron knows Julian would’ve never let himself picture being part of not too long ago. He glances at him again—at the way Julian’s gaze flits over the beach, taking everything in. There’s a flicker of something behind his sunglasses. Not quite nervousness, but something close.

Aaron clears his throat. “We can hang out in the car for a bit if you want. No rush.”

Julian’s fingers twitch on his knee. He doesn’t look away from the beach. “No… I’m good.”

There’s a pause, stretched thin. Then, like he’s trying to convince himself: “I want to.”

Aaron’s heart gives a stupid little thump. He forces himself to smile like it’s not a big deal—like Julian showing up here, being excited all morning, and being nervous now doesn’t make him want to wrap him in his arms and keep him safe from every bad thing in the world.

“Cool,” he says, reaching for the bag in the backseat. “Let’s go claim our snacks before Steven hoards all the good chips.”

They climb out into the warmth. The air smells like salt, and the sand is already hot under Aaron’s flip-flops as they cross toward the canopy. He keeps his stride a little slower than usual, letting Julian fall into step beside him. The beach stretches wide around them—glittering water on one side, rocky outcroppings farther down the shore, families setting up umbrellas in little groups. 

It’s not packed, but there’s enough movement, enough people, that Aaron can feel Julian tensing slightly next to him.

Aaron bumps their shoulders together, casual. “By the way, I’m pretty sure Casey mentioned some kind of beach games. Like, organized. Which means she’s going to try to get people to play. Just so you know what you’ve walked into.”

Julian snorts softly. “Great. Just what I need. Forced social interaction.”

“Hey, maybe they’ll have a sandcastle contest. I bet you’re secretly really good at those.”

Julian’s lips twitch. “What makes you think that?”

Aaron shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess it’s because you’re supposed to be the artistic one between us, so yours would look really good.”

Julian gives him a sidelong look, but there’s the faintest tug of amusement around his mouth. It’s not much, but it’s something. It’s enough to remind Aaron why he’s been looking forward to this—why he’s glad Casey decided to do something like this for her birthday this year. He knows it’s the kind of party that could really help cheer Julian up, so Aaron wants to get as many laughs and smiles out of Julian before the day ends.

They finally reach the canopy where Casey’s standing, drink in hand. She's wearing a yellow sundress with large sunglasses pushed into her hair. She lets out a loud whoop when she spots them, waving them over like they’ve been gone for years. Meanwhile, Tommy’s at the table, sorting through bags of chips. 

“Look who finally decided to show up!” Casey calls. “And Julian! Looking as beautiful as ever!”

Julian huffs out a small laugh, ducking his head shyly. Aaron drops their bag by the table, retrieving their wrapped gifts and leaving them there for Casey to find later. He then spreads his arms. “What about me, Casey?”

Casey eyes him up and down, lips pursed in mock consideration. “I expected more for someone who’s late.”

“Late?” Aaron looks around. “Literally nobody is here yet.”

“Yeah, but you’re supposed to help us set up the place. Actual guests are allowed to arrive fashionably late. You, on the other hand, are my servant.”

Tommy approaches, beer in hand, wrapping an arm around Casey’s waist. “There are still some drinks in the truck that need to be brought over.”

“Oh, I’ll get them,” Julian says immediately. 

“No, babe, leave it to Aaron,” Casey says before Julian could head toward the parking lot. “You get special treatment because it’s your first time attending one of my parties, and I want to leave a good impression.”

“Oh, I really don’t mind—” Julian tries to protest.

“Nope. Drinks are in the cooler, and there’s a game of beach volleyball starting soon, so I need you here.”

Julian glances at Aaron, like he’s checking for permission. Aaron just grins. “What do you think, Jules? You up for showing these clowns how it’s done?”

He shifts on his feet. “I don’t know… I haven’t played in years.”

“Perfect,” Casey says. “That means you’ll still be better than Aaron.”

Aaron groans dramatically, but the sound is lost under the collective laughter. It’s good. Easy. And exactly what he hoped this day would be.

“What happened? What joke did I miss?” 

They all turn around to find Steven running across the sand, wearing an open shirt and dark swim trunks. Aaron grins, running toward him and meeting him halfway with a hug.

“I missed you, you idiot,” Aaron says, pulling away and clapping his shoulder. 

“Since when are you this needy?” Steven says teasingly. “Kidding. Missed you, too, Ronnie-poo.” He looks over at the others. “Casey! Happy birthday, my love!”

Hugs are exchanged between the two, and then Steven turns to Julian. “Ju-ju!”

Aaron laughs. “What the fuck is Ju-ju?” 

Steven ignores him. He walks over to where Julian stands and goes in for a hug. “God, have I missed you!”

Julian smiles at Steven, quickly returning his embrace. “You, too.”

“Wow, how long has it been since we were all together?” Steven removes his sunglasses, placing them over his messy hair.

“Too long.” Tommy moves to unfold one of the plastic tables. “Aaron, Steven—get those drinks from the truck, please.”

“Alright.” Aaron looks around. Julian has apparently been dragged to the refreshments table, nodding along to whatever Casey is saying as she pours him a drink. 

Julian briefly meets his eyes and gives him a single nod. I’m okay here, he seems to say. You can go.

So, Aaron grabs Steven by the arm before he can slip away and they head toward Tommy’s bright red truck, which he can already spot from the beach.

They make quick work of grabbing the remaining boxes of beer, and on their way back, Steven says, “How’s Julian been holding up?”

Aaron purses his lips. “He’s… adjusting. And he’s trying his best.”

Since Julian’s first nightmare, Aaron is only aware of two other times when it happened again. Each of those times, Aaron went to his room (Julian has been leaving his door unlocked after the first time) and sat with him until Julian felt a little better. They talked about random things just to fill the silence—just to take Julian’s mind off of whatever had woken him up that night.

“He seems healthy,” Steven says. “Last time we talked on the phone, you said he was having trouble eating.”

“The secret is snacks.” They make it back to the canopy and place the drinks on the table. “He doesn’t have much of an appetite when it comes to meals, but if you give him cookies and pastries throughout the day, he usually eats them.”

Steven’s smile is soft. “You’re doing a good job.”

“Good job of what?”

“Taking care of him.” Steven turns a bit, gazing at where Casey, Tommy, and Julian are setting up the volleyball net a good distance away. 

Aaron leans against the table, watching Julian laugh at something Tommy said. The wind ruffles his curls, causing them to stick up in random directions. “I try my best. It’s hard, though. I don’t know if I’m doing it right.”

He’s had endless phone calls about it with Emily since they both share the sentiment. A lot of pressure comes with looking after someone, especially someone like Julian. Sometimes, he lies awake at night, thinking back to his interactions with Julian that day, wondering if there’s something he could’ve done or said differently.

“Knowing you,” Steven starts, “you’re probably giving him exactly what he needs by just being your genuine, dumb self.”

Aaron smiles. “I hope so.”

“Hey!” Casey’s voice is carried by the wind. “Let’s play!”

Stretching his arms over his head, Aaron heads toward them with Steven at his heels. When they make it near the volleyball net, Aaron finds Julian helping Tommy draw lines on the sand for boundaries.

“Jules is on our team,” Aaron declares when Julian and Tommy join them at the center.

“Okay, so it’s Tommy and me on the other team,” Casey says.

“Three against two?” Tommy calls, hands on his hips.

Steven grins sharply. “Scared?”

“You wish.”

“Let’s start!” Casey grabs the ball and tosses it to Julian. “First serve.”

They take their places. Julian looks hesitant as he rolls the ball between his palms. Aaron steps closer, his voice low. “You got this.”

Julian exhales slowly, nodding once before tossing the ball into the air and serving it clean over the net. It’s not a powerful serve, but it’s steady, landing perfectly where Casey has to scramble to reach it.

“Okay, Julian!” Steven whoops, throwing his arms in the air.

The game carries on with plenty of back and forth. Julian warms up quickly, and Aaron finds himself sneaking glances at him more often than he probably should. There’s color in his cheeks, a soft smile tugging at his mouth every time Steven cracks a joke or Casey yells some ridiculous insult mid-play.

At one point, Julian lunges to hit the ball, his feet kicking up sand. He misses and ends up landing in a heap. Aaron’s heart lurches, instinctively rushing to his side, but Julian only laughs and carelessly brushes sand off his arms.

“You trying to dive for dramatic effect?” Aaron teases, offering him a hand.

Julian grins up at him, eyes shining. “Maybe.”

Aaron’s fingers close around Julian’s wrist to help him up, the skin under Aaron’s thumb feeling warm and soft. His heart does another stupid little flip, but he ignores it—just like he always does.

The game stretches on until everyone’s out of breath and the sun is dipping lower in the sky. They call it a tie, mostly because no one’s really been keeping score.

Julian’s hair is sticking to his forehead, his smile lingering even as they collapse onto the beach towels. Aaron flops down beside him with a sigh.

“You were right,” Julian says quietly, just for Aaron to hear. “That was fun.”

Aaron grins up at the sky. “Told you so.”

He could live the rest of his life like this—surrounded by people he loves, going on trips, with Julian always by his side.

Julian, bathed in the sun’s soft, golden glow, looking so effortlessly at home in the warmth. Aaron can't help but stare, his heart swelling twice its size when Julian turns toward him, offering a clumsy, toothy grin that makes Aaron forget how to breathe.

I’m fucked, Aaron thinks. I am so thoroughly fucked.

Julian has always awoken certain feelings inside him, certain emotions he’s never experienced when he was still dating around and meeting people. But this… this is something new. Something deeper and realer than anything he had ever felt before.

It scares him a bit, but he also doesn’t want the feeling to go away. He won’t name what it is just yet—but he knows it’s there. Buried beneath the protectiveness he feels toward Julian, beneath the tenderness Aaron never quite realized he had in him—it’s there, quiet but alive.

“Casey’s friends are here,” Julian says, pulling him from his thoughts. 

Sure enough, Casey’s guests arrive one by one. Aaron recognizes several faces from Holton, like Edmund and Richard, and a few from Caffeinated. He waves at Katy when she arrives, watching as she heads toward the refreshments table.

A few minutes later, Aaron and Julian join the others under the canopy. Some people have already made a first run at the buffet, but most are still gathered in little groups, beers in hand, chatting and catching up while waves and music from the speaker blend together in the background.

“Aaron!” says a voice, and he turns to find Richard beaming at him. 

Richard is Aaron's batchmate, but he took a different course. Despite that, it’s impossible not to know who he is. Aside from throwing yearly parties, he’s also quite the social butterfly, which is why the guy’s practically invited to every single gathering.

“Hey, man, long time.” They exchange a quick side-hug. Aaron steps aside and brings Julian forward. “Jules, you remember Richard? We went to his party last year.”

A memory of that night flashes in Aaron’s mind: Julian’s weight on his lap, hot breaths against his mouth, soft lips, dark, hooded eyes, delicious friction, a cramped car—

He clears his throat. Get a fucking grip.  

“Yes, of course,” Julian says. “It was a fun party. Nice to see you again.”

“You, too!” Richard gives Julian’s shoulder a friendly squeeze. “Haven’t seen you around campus much. What’ve you been up to?”

Julian’s smile grows a bit stiff, but he answers easily. “I, uh, actually stopped school not long after the party. Just some personal stuff I had to sort out, but everything’s fine now.”

“Oh, I see. You planning to go back for your sophomore year next semester?”

He shakes his head. “Not yet. I’m actually…” Julian pauses, looking toward Aaron with uncertainty. Aaron immediately wraps an arm over his shoulder, giving him an encouraging nod. “I’m actually looking for a job.”

Richard’s face brightens. “My dad owns a record shop by Silver Plaza. I’ve been working there since graduation—just something to kill time while I figure out what I’m doing with my life. We’ve got a couple of openings if you’re interested.”

Julian’s eyes flick up, wide and surprised. “Oh—really? You think I’d be a good fit?”

“Absolutely.” Richard’s hand finds Julian’s shoulder again, his touch light but lingering. “Officially, you’d be a cashier. Unofficially? A cutie like you would be great for business.”

Aaron physically bristles at that, forcing a laugh to cover it up. He reminds himself that Richard is a nice guy. In the dictionary, they probably have Richard’s face next to the definition of a “green flag.” Nevertheless, Aaron can’t help the way he starts to like him a little less for that single comment.

Julian blushes, seemingly taken aback by the compliment. “Oh… that’s, um. Thanks.”

“Here,” Richard says, handing his phone over to Julian. “Think about it and give me a call if you’re up for it.”

Julian takes the phone, but not before sending Aaron a wide-eyed, inquisitive look. Aaron just nods again, and only then does Julian type in his number. 

“There,” Richard says, tapping on his phone screen. “Gave your number a missed call. I’ll keep one of the positions open for as long as I can in case you want it.”

“Thank you,” Julian says. “I’ll try to let you know my decision really soon.”

“Take your time.” Richard winks.

“Okay,” Aaron cuts in a bit abruptly, steering Julian away. “Uh, great catching up with you, man. See you around.”

“Good to see you guys,” Richard says. “I’ll be waiting for your call, Julian!”

Aaron suddenly craves a cigarette, but he makes do with the beer on the refreshments table. Julian hovers beside him, pouring himself a cup of lemonade juice from the plastic dispenser.

“Well,” Julian starts, tone a bit uncertain, “that was nice of him to offer.”

“Yeah.” Aaron hums and takes a swig of beer. It was nice of him to offer. Julian working with Richard would be much more preferable to him working with a total stranger. At least Aaron actually knows Richard—has known him since freshman year. Nobody has anything bad to say about the guy, either. Yet, Aaron feels like he has to force his next words. “We can, uh, check out the record shop if you want? See if it’s close enough, if the place looks decent.”

Julian takes a sip of his lemonade, leaving the rim of the plastic cup pressed to his lips for a few moments. “You think it’s a good idea?”

“You like music, don’t you?” Aaron shrugs, looking around. Some people have ditched their shirts and dresses and have started splashing around in the water. “It’s a record shop. Sounds like something you wouldn’t mind.”

Julian sighs, turning around to rest against the table. “I… yeah. I really wouldn’t. I’ll ask Emily what she thinks.”

Aaron nods. That’s that, then. Guess Julian working at Caffeinated just isn’t in the cards. He takes a slow breath, lets it settle in his chest, then lifts his beer for another sip.

They’re quiet for a bit, the bass-heavy music and distant waves filling the space between them. After a moment, Julian’s voice cuts through—soft, tentative.

“Are you mad at me?”

Aaron whips his head toward him, but Julian is staring at the ground, his lemonade now abandoned on the table. “What? No. Of course not, Jules. Why would I be?”

“I don’t know. You looked kind of mad just now.” He picks at his nails.

He seriously needs to work on concealing his emotions more. Sighing, Aaron softens his voice. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be. I just—I don’t know. It stresses me out.”

“What does?”

Aaron hesitates. “Just—you working where I can’t see you. And you have every right to be irritated with that, okay? I deserve that. I just can’t control it.”

To his surprise, Julian laughs lightly. “God. You and Em are insufferable.”

“Hey.” Aaron raises his hands in defense. “It’s in our older-sibling DNA. Can’t help it.”

Julian looks up, watching the waves. “I appreciate it, though. I hate it, but I appreciate that you care enough to feel protective or whatever.” He kicks at the sand. “It’s annoying, but sweet. Just like you.”

He flings his hands up, half-laughing. “I think Casey’s a bad influence on you. Why are you suddenly being mean to me for no reason?”

“Sorry,” he says with a shrug, eyes glinting. “Can’t help it.”

Aaron just sighs in disappointment, but he’s secretly enjoying this. Getting mildly insulted by Julian is surprisingly fun. Not that he’ll ever tell Julian that. Or anyone else, for that matter.

Julian glances at him, then back at the water. “I wasn’t lying, though. It’s nice… having someone care. Aside from Em, you’re kind of the first person who’s ever looked out for me like that.”

Aaron’s chest goes tight, but he clears his throat, keeping his voice light. “Guess that makes me your favorite, huh?”

“Don’t push it.”

He clicks his tongue. “Was worth a shot.”

As the sun sinks fully below the horizon, the buffet slowly gets demolished and the drink dispensers drained. Eventually, Casey rallies whoever’s still hanging around for a few last beach games. There’s a half-hearted attempt at a game of frisbee, but the dwindling light makes it more of a guessing game than anything. Someone starts up a sandcastle contest, but aside from a couple of people, everyone’s far too drunk to keep them standing.

The energy starts to mellow out as the evening stretches on. People drift into smaller groups, conversations turning quieter, punctuated by low laughter and the crack of beer cans popping open.

Eventually, Casey wrangles everyone back toward the bonfire pit—a shallow ring in the sand where flames flicker low, casting long shadows. The fire’s been going for a while, but now people cluster around with blankets draped over shoulders, the warm glow flickering across tired faces. The scent of smoke hangs thick in the air, mingling with salt.

Aaron lets Julian sit on one of the folding chairs someone dragged over earlier, a bag of chips in his lap. Aaron folds himself onto the sand beside Julian, knees tucked up to his chest. The firelight catches on the curve of Julian’s face, turning his features soft and golden.

Steven emerges with a guitar and starts strumming mindlessly, and eventually, he ends up playing a familiar tune that people start singing along to.

There’s something different about this part of the night—slower, quieter. Voices murmur low around the flames, and every now and then, someone tosses a crumpled napkin or a stick into the fire, watching it curl and blacken in the heat. 

Aaron leans back on the sand, beer still clutched loosely in one hand, trying to let the warmth soak through him. His eyes flick over to Julian, who’s staring into the fire like he’s lost in thought. For a second, Aaron wonders if he should say something—if he should fill the space with another teasing comment or some dumb observation to break the silence between them.

But then Julian shifts, glancing over like he can feel Aaron looking. His mouth quirks into a small, vulnerable smile.

“I could get used to this,” he says softly.

Aaron’s fingers tighten around his drink, something warm settling low in his chest. “Glad to hear that. This definitely won’t be the last time we do something like this.”

They lapse into quiet again, the fire crackling between them. The night stretches on, the beach slowly emptying out, leaving just the low murmur of voices and the distant hush of the waves.

Eventually, the bonfire burns low, flames flickering in lazy licks as the last few people gather up their things. The night’s settled into that hazy, stretched-out feeling—when the air’s gone cooler and everything’s winding down, but nobody quite wants to be the first to call it.

Goodbyes pass in murmured voices, sleepy smiles, and half-hearted promises to hang out again soon. Tommy and Steven walk around saying goodbye. Casey’s still buzzing on leftover adrenaline, hugging everyone a little too tightly. Aaron gets one last bear hug that nearly knocks the beer out of his hand, while Julian gets a softer squeeze—a whispered “I’m glad you came” in his ear before she moves on.

By the time they break away from the group, the beach feels almost abandoned. The waves roll steady in the dark, and the speaker’s finally been shut off, leaving only the hush of the ocean and the faint crackle of dying embers behind them.

They walk side by side. Aaron’s still riding the comfortable weight of the night—the beer in his system, the warmth of the fire lingering on his skin, the way Julian’s been sticking close without really needing to.

He’s halfway through a joke about how he’s going to have sand stuck to his ass for a week when Julian suddenly stops short.

Aaron catches it just in time—the way Julian’s body goes rigid, breath catching sharp in his throat. His face is suddenly as white as a sheet.

“Hey.” Aaron’s brow furrows, voice dropping. “What’s wrong?”

Julian doesn’t answer. His eyes are locked on something up the beach, past the last few stragglers and the dark stretch of parking lot. Aaron follows his gaze, squinting into the shadows.

Nothing.

“Julian?”

Julian’s breathing picks up—shallow, uneven. Aaron steps in front of him without thinking, like maybe his body can block out whatever is causing that look of terror on Julian’s face.

“Hey,” Aaron says firmly, ignoring the way his own heart is starting to pound. He places his hands on Julian’s shoulders. “Talk to me, Jules. Please.”

“I—” Julian tries, the word sounding like nothing more than a gasp, wide eyes filling with tears. 

“Do you want to get in the car first?” Fuck. Julian’s shaking—Aaron can feel it where his hands rest. “C’mon—”

“I saw Logan,” Julian chokes out, tears rolling down his cheeks. He lifts a hand, his finger trembling as he points at a spot near one of the lampposts. “He w-was standing right there, looking right at me, I swear he was right fucking there—” He breaks off into a muffled sob.

Dread crawls up in Aaron’s chest. “Jules—”

“How did he—” Julian cries, his voice louder now, hysterical. He grips his hair and pulls. “I fucking thought—”

“Julian.” Aaron firmly grabs his wrists in an attempt to stop him from hurting himself. His vision blurs with tears. “I got you. C’mon, let’s get in the car. We can talk there.”

“I don’t understand…” There’s that faraway look in Julian’s eyes again—a vacancy that terrifies Aaron to his bones. Aaron forces himself to keep moving, wrapping an arm around Julian’s waist to lead him to the car. 

Aaron’s heartbeat thunders in his ears, sweaty hands nearly dropping the key as he tries to unlock his car door.  His gaze darts around, scanning the shadows for any flicker of movement. The parking lot feels empty—too empty—but the prickling sensation at the back of his neck won't let him believe they're actually alone.

“You're okay. We'll be fine,” Aaron murmurs, his voice steady despite the heavy apprehension knotting tight in his chest. He guides Julian into the car, noticing that he has gone quiet now. His face is still worryingly pale, but he hasn’t said another word. He’s staring straight ahead, still and unmoving save for his trembling lips.

Aaron practically runs to the other side of the car and slams the door shut as soon as he’s inside, locking the doors. He can hear his own heavy breathing inside the cramped space, loud and uneven in the silence.

“Drink some water.” Aaron uncaps a bottled water for Julian, tilting it toward his mouth. Julian wordlessly obeys, his eyes glassy and his mind clearly elsewhere. 

He feels like crying. He feels like punching the steering wheel out of sheer frustration. But more than anything, he feels like throwing the door open and hunting down that fucking monster—dragging him out of whatever shadows he's hiding in and make him pay for every horrible thing he's ever done.

Right now, it hardly matters whether Julian actually saw Logan or if it was just some cruel trick of the light—Logan Peyton has a lot to account for, and the thought of him still lurking out there, free to haunt Julian's life, makes Aaron's stomach twist with anger.

He grips the steering wheel so tightly his fingers ache, the urge to hunt the bastard down clawing at his chest. But he can't. Not tonight. Not with Julian sitting beside him, small and shaken, staring out the window like he's still waiting for something to leap out of the dark.

Aaron forces himself to breathe, to shove down the rage threatening to swallow him whole. Protecting Julian means keeping a clear head. It means getting him home, locking the door, and staying close—no matter how badly he wants to take justice into his own hands.

Risking a glance at Julian, Aaron's heart clenches at the sight of him—arms wrapped around himself, almost like he's trying to hold himself together.

“We're going home,” Aaron tells him, but Julian doesn't acknowledge him.

His eyes stay locked somewhere outside, and when Aaron follows his gaze, he finds nothing but shadows staring back.

Chapter Text

A glance at his wristwatch tells him the transport vehicle is only less than a minute away. 

Logan looks up at the sky, past the canopy of trees, pleased to see just the right amount of darkness—enough to keep them hidden, but not so much that it hinders their operation.

“Got my eyes on them.” Ricky checks the barrel of his rifle and then racks the bolt. Over his shoulder, he says, “Get in position. Gavin—on my signal.” 

Sure enough, Logan spots the police van emerging from a cloud of dust followed by a single police cruiser, steadily approaching the wooded area Logan and his crew have staked out. He leans back against a fallen log, idly twirling his curved blade between his fingers.

The low rumble of engines grows louder, the headlights cutting through the dark stretch of road. Logan watches from his vantage point as Gavin crouches by the roadside amidst the bushes, gripping the rope connected to the coiled spike strip beside him.

“Wait for it,” Ricky mutters, eyes alert.

The convoy moves closer with the transport van speeding ahead, its headlights bouncing off the dense foliage. The police cruiser follows, slightly distanced, just as Logan predicted. 

They really only sent a single escort vehicle. Just one. Logan smiles. 

Ricky raises his hand, palm open. A second later, he balls it into a fist. “Now.”

Gavin yanks the rope with all his strength, sending the spike strip whipping across the asphalt, just in time for the transport van’s front tires to slam into it. The tires explode with two consecutive, satisfying bangs. Logan stands up, watching as the reinforced van lurches forward with a violent jolt. It veers right, skidding toward the shoulder. The cruiser barely dodges the wreck, its brakes screaming as it skids to a stop only a few feet away from where the van is.

“Move!” Ricky yells, his voice echoing in the secluded area.

Logan has less than ten people with him, but they’re his best men. They emerge from the trees, armed and ready, one sub-team aiming for the cruiser and another going for the van. 

The officer inside the cruiser is quick—he jumps out of the car and uses the vehicle as cover as he starts taking shots at them with his handgun. 

The other officer isn’t as fast. Ricky drops to one knee, pressing the rifle snug against his shoulder as he takes aim at the cruiser. A sharp crack splits the air, and then the windshield explodes into shards. The bullet finds its mark, striking the officer square in the temple.

One down. 

A sharp cry rings out as the cruiser cop fires, hitting one of Logan’s men. Ricky curses, quickly re-aims, and squeezes the trigger—three shots in rapid succession. His target dives for cover, but not fast enough; one of the bullets catches him, though it’s hard to tell where. It doesn’t matter. The hit is enough of a distraction. It allows one of Logan’s men to close the distance, rushing up behind the car and finishing the job. 

With the cruiser dealt with, Logan heads for the van, the weight of his curved blade firm in his grip. The driver slumps lifelessly against the steering wheel, his uniform dark with blood from multiple gunshots to the chest. The passenger-side door is wide open, and the van officer—still alive—has taken cover behind it, firing off desperate shots at three of Logan’s men. Muzzle flashes light up the night as bullets ricochet off the van’s frame, the officer clearly outnumbered and struggling to hold his ground. 

“Move in,” Logan orders, voice calm, and Ricky and Gavin press forward. Now, it’s five against one. Logan doesn’t stick around—he knows the foolish cop won’t last long.

Instead, he heads for the rear of the van, his boots crunching over shattered glass and spent shell casings. The air is thick with the smell of gunpowder and fresh blood. “Open the doors.”

Immediately, his men step forward to force the doors open. Logan walks around the wreckage as he waits, narrowing his eyes when he catches movement from somewhere near the cruiser. He quietly walks toward the vehicle, finding one of the officers sprawled on his stomach, blood seeping from a wound in his shoulder. His radio is clutched tightly in a bloody hand. 

“Officer down—transport compromised—need immediate—”

Logan clicks his tongue. He gets close enough to slam a boot down the man’s outstretched arm, forcing him to drop the radio with a pained cry. He kicks the device away from the cop’s reach.

The officer sucks in a sharp breath as Logan crouches in front of him. Behind him, he can hear metal groaning as his men pry open the van doors. The operation is moving forward; there can’t be any loose ends.

“Please,” the man says as Logan brings his knife forward. “Pl—”

Logan grips his hair and tilts his head upward to reveal his neck. He makes it quick—all it takes is a single slash across the front of his throat. Blood pours out from the cut, soaking his clothes as well as the asphalt beneath him.

The man chokes and sputters pitifully, eyes wide. Logan would love to sit around and watch as the light leaves his eyes, but he has more interesting things to attend to. 

“Logan,” Ricky calls. 

Logan stands and turns back to the van, pleased to see that the doors have been opened. 

Inside, Kent Andrews sits on the cold metal bench, wrists bound, his face white as a sheet.

For a moment, the kid is frozen, breath shallow and shoulders rigid in shock. His gaze darts past Logan, scanning the scene. Logan sees the exact moment the boy comes to the conclusion that there is no escape: his eyes well up, face twisting with raw terror.

Pathetic.

Logan leans against the inside of one of the doors, crossing his arms over his chest. “Andrews.”

He visibly trembles, seemingly lost for words.

“C’mon. We’re going for a ride.”

His men grab the kid, and Logan hears Andrews thrashing about and putting up a fight. It takes them a few minutes to get to where they parked their cars, and when they arrive, Logan orders them to shove a sack over Andrews’ head and stuff him in Logan's trunk. 

“Clear out quickly,” Logan tells Gavin. “Backup might arrive any minute.”

Gavin gives him a sharp nod before striding off to regroup with the others. Without another word, Logan steps into the driver’s seat, the door shutting with a solid thud as Ricky slides into the passenger side beside him. The scent of gunpowder lingers in the air, mixing with the faint metallic tang of blood still clinging to their clothes.

Logan grips the wheel and pulls onto the empty road, the headlights carving a path through the darkness. The drive stretches on for nearly an hour. Ricky busies himself by reloading his weapon, the soft clicks and snaps of metal filling the otherwise silent vehicle. Outside, the landscape shifts from dense trees to stretches of open land, then finally to the outskirts of a forgotten industrial district.

Satisfied that they’ve put enough distance between themselves and the ambush site, Logan slows the car, turning onto a cracked and weed-choked lot. An abandoned building looms ahead, its walls covered in peeling paint and graffiti, windows shattered long ago. 

It’s the perfect spot for what thay have to do.

He kills the engine and steps out of the car. Ricky immediately heads for the trunk and throws it open. Andrews is curled up inside, wrists still bound, the sounds of his gasps and sobs loud in the warehouse’s emptiness. Ricky hauls him out of the trunk and harshly tosses him to the concrete floor, forcing a pained cry out of the boy’s mouth. 

Logan crouches in front of him and removes the bag from his head. Andrews is full-on crying right now—his cheeks wet from tears, eyes wide with terror. Logan remembers him having a buzz cut before, but now his hair is noticeably longer and thicker. After all, it’s been a while since the kid was taken in by the cops following their failed kidnapping attempt.

“Andrews,” Logan says in a disappointed tone. “Been with us since you were fourteen, right? We pulled you off the streets, gave you a roof over your head, put food on your plate. Do you remember?”

“Y-yes,” Andrews stammers, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Logan shakes his head. He retrieves his curved blade again, and it makes Andrews cry harder. He’s reminded of how young this kid is—sixteen, seventeen, something like that. He should’ve known. The young ones always break so easily.

“I'm curious,” Logan says. He stands, slowly walking in a circle around the boy. “What did they offer you? What did they promise you in exchange for you snitching and telling them everything you know?”

His breath hitches. “S-sir, I’m sorry, please sir, I didn’t—”

With a swift, brutal kick to the stomach, Logan knocks Andrews out of his sitting position, sending him sprawling onto his back. He jams his boot into his gut one more time for extra measure, making Andrews gasp out a sob. 

“Answer the fucking question.”

“A shorter sentence i-in a juvenile facility instead of adult prison, s-sir,” Andrews chokes out, his arms wrapped around his head as though to protect it. 

For a kid involved in an attempted kidnapping and a long history of drug dealing and gang violence—offenses that are severe enough to have him tried as an adult in court—it’s not a bad deal at all. They likely offered him protection, too. Made him believe that there’s no way Logan will learn about his betrayal.

But if there’s one thing Logan has taught his men, it’s that they should never trust the word of a cop. Andrews, unfortunately, seems to have forgotten this.

“And what did you tell them?”

Andrews curls into himself even more, his hitched breaths making it hard to understand what he’s saying. “Sir, I really am sorry, t-they didn’t give me a choice—”

He harshly grabs Andrews by the hair, hauling him up to his feet and slamming him against the wall so they’re eye to eye. Andrews cries out in pain, and the terror in his eyes makes something hot curl in Logan’s gut.

“What did you tell them?”

“J-just the locations of your operations, sir,” Andrews says, his chest heaving. “And about Foster and Reyes.”  

Foster and Reyes—dirty cops who had been at Logan’s beck and call for the past couple of years. It’s a shame they got exposed. They had been incredibly useful. But once their cover was blown, he couldn’t take any chances. An "accident" had to be arranged—just to make sure they didn’t start running their mouths and spilling even more valuable secrets to the pigs.

“Which operations, exactly?” Logan brings the blade to the side of Andrews’ face, pressing the tip against his cheek.

“Just the ones in the city, sir, I didn’t—”

He drives the blade's sharp point in deeper, watching as it draws blood. “Which ones?”

“The black market operations, sir—the prostitution houses—”

Logan drags Andrews forward and brutally slams him back into the wall, hearing a satisfying crack where the back of his head meets the concrete. Andrews’ eyes go glassy with unconsciousness for a few seconds, and then he blinks rapidly, his breathing becoming more labored.

He feels himself vibrate with a kind of rage he hasn’t felt in a long time. Leaning in, he brushes his lips against the boy’s ear. “They raided the Benson house—did you know that? They’re sniffing around my territories all over the city, too.”

It’s been weeks since the Benson prostitution house got raided, but Logan’s fury remains fresh. He had suspected that something like that might happen soon, which was why he was arranging moving the whores somewhere the cops wouldn’t be able to find them. But without Foster and Reyes, he was moving blind. If only he had taken action earlier—even a single day earlier—he could’ve stopped it all from happening.

He could’ve stopped Julian from being taken from him.

The thought alone is enough to send his anger surging back, sharp and searing. His grip on Andrews’ shirt tightens, fingers trembling with the effort of holding himself back. Someone has to pay for this. And who better than the coward who sold him out without a second thought?

“You thought telling them all you knew would buy you your freedom, huh?” Logan keeps his voice low, smiling coldly when he feels Andrews tremble against him. “Those pigs don’t give a fuck about you. Look at you now—didn’t they say they’d protect you? Didn’t they say they’ll make sure no one would find out you snitched, and that even if they did, they’d never get their hands on you? Where are they now, boy?”

Logan doesn’t give him an opportunity to say anything—he presses the tip of the blade against Andrews' skin before swiftly dragging it downward, leaving a long, jagged gash down his cheek. Blood escapes from the cut, making Andrews shriek in pain.

“Please, sir, please,” the boy cries pitifully, “I know I shouldn’t have, I’m sorry, I-I won’t do it again—”

“I’ll make sure you don’t,” Logan hisses. “Wanna know the real reason you’re here, Andrews? I already know everything you’ve told the cops. I didn’t go through all the trouble of ambushing your convoy just to find out what the cops have on me—you’re here for a very special reason.”

“Sir, please—”

“You’re here to be a lesson to anyone who ever thinks of betraying me.”

Andrews sucks in a shaky breath, his body shuddering with a choked sob. The pure terror in his eyes sparks a wicked thrill under Logan’s skin.

“Ricky,” Logan calls. “Hold him for me.”

As Ricky approaches, Andrews’ sobs grow louder and louder, eyes red and puffy. There’s not a single part of him that isn’t trembling. “Sir, I’m s-sorry—!”

Ricky roughly grabs him, locking his arms around Andrews' torso and pinning his arms to hold him in place. Logan steps away, twirling his blade. 

“I’ve been good to you,” Logan tells him, and he doesn’t have to fake the remorse in his voice. Andrews truly did have potential—he was young, he was obedient, and he was eager to please. He owed Logan for everything he had done for him, and all he had to do was sell drugs to his assigned locations, gather intel on other gangs, and most importantly, keep his fucking mouth shut if he’s ever caught by the police. Andrews had been taken into custody when he was much younger, and he didn’t exactly spill everything he knew back then. That's why a part of Logan came to trust him. So, beyond his anger, Logan truly does feel disappointed, because he expected more from Andrews. 

Perhaps this should be a lesson for him as well—to never trust anyone, no matter how convincing they seem.

“What do we do with ungrateful little brats who don’t know how to shut their mouths, Ricky?” Logan asks casually, watching the boy tremble before him.

Ricky's grin is wicked. “What else, boss? We make them incapable of ever speaking again.”

Andrews flinches, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Beneath the dirty mix of tears, blood, and grime on his skin, his face is extremely pale. His voice is hoarse and broken—as small and pathetic as he is. “No! Please, I’ll d-do better, give me another chance—!”

Logan backhands him across the face, strong enough that he’s quite certain a tooth just came flying out of Andrews’ mouth. It disorients the boy, enough that Logan can lean in and grip his face, pressing his thumb and pointer finger into Andrews’ cheeks so his lips pop open.

“Any last words?”

“Plea—”

Logan roughly forces his fingers into Andrews’ mouth, grabbing his tongue. He yanks it out as far as it will go, ignoring Andrews’ panicked screams as he brings the knife closer with his other hand. 

He makes sure he’s looking straight into Andrews’ wide, hysterical eyes as he cuts it clean off. 

⌖

Logan stood in front of the bathroom sink, staring at his bruised knuckles. He looked up at his reflection and couldn’t help but wince at what he saw: a black eye, multiple shallow cuts down the left side of his face, and a busted lip.

He looked like absolute shit.

With a sigh, he leaned down to retrieve the first aid kit in the cabinet under the sink. When he straightened back up, he came face to face with another person in the mirror, making him jump.

“Jesus,” Logan hissed, turning around. “You scared the fuck outta me.”

“What the hell happened to you?”

He scratched the back of his head, feeling strangely embarrassed. “Training.”

Scoffing, Matteo moved forward until he was standing right in front of him, taking Logan’s face in his hands. He started muttering about how careless Logan was, but frankly, Logan was too distracted to understand a word.

Matteo had a pretty frown on his face—green eyes impossibly wide as he took a closer look at Logan’s beaten face. His lips were pursed in a thin line, clicking his tongue every once in a while as he started cleaning the cuts on Logan’s face with antiseptic. As he worked, a lock of brown, curly hair escaped from his bun, draping over his right eye. 

Logan gently brushed the strand of hair away from his face, letting his fingers linger on his soft skin.

“Are you even listening to me?” Matteo stepped away, looking affronted. “You don’t even care! How the hell are you so okay with this—”

“Relax,” Logan said, wrapping his arms around Matteo’s slim waist and pulling him close until they were chest to chest. He dropped a soft kiss onto Matteo’s lips. “Just a few more months. You just have to be patient.” 

Matteo’s eyebrows remained furrowed, but his expression slowly softened as Logan continued to pepper his face with light kisses. Eventually, Matteo groaned and pushed him away, smiling. “You’re gonna get blood all over me.”

“Somehow, you look even sexier that way,” Logan said, his voice deep and husky. He felt Matteo shudder against him.

Still, Matteo removed Logan’s arms from around him and stepped back until they were no longer touching. “Do you know how hard it is to get blood out of clothing? I’m being serious.”

Logan sighed. He turned to look at his reflection again, satisfied that at least Matteo had already cleaned the cuts and all that was left to do was for Logan to take a long, hot shower and ice the wounds over the next couple of days.

Matteo stood on his tiptoes, tucking his chin over Logan’s shoulder and meeting his eyes in the mirror. His warm breath hit the side of Logan’s face. 

“Really,” Mateo said. “You’re not seriously hurt, are you?”

“No. It was just the usual training routine. I… I haven’t been practicing as well as I should. My trainer knocked some sense into me,” Logan said bitterly.

Logan had been attending hand-to-hand combat training sessions for a couple of months now, along with his other cousins. He started off alright—got praised by Mr. Mercer for his quick movement and powerful hits, but over the following weeks, Logan’s focus had begun to waver. Their trainer could clearly tell, which was why this session was made entirely to humiliate Logan in front of his cousins, hoping that it would motivate Logan to do better.

Little did Mr. Mercer know that Logan wouldn’t even be there to attend any of their future sessions.

“Well, fuck him,” Matteo said, making Logan laugh. Matteo hardly ever cursed, so when he did, Logan found it incredibly adorable. 

Logan turned around, pressing a kiss to the back of Matteo’s hand. “Two more months, baby.”

Matteo’s lips curled into a small, unsure smile. “I'm tired of waiting.”

“I know.” Logan leaned forward, wrapping him up in a hug. “But we have to be careful.”

Timing was everything. Matteo had turned eighteen just four months ago, but Logan still had two months to go. Once he hit eighteen, he’d gain access to his inheritance—a hefty sum, more than enough to pay for fake documents and everything they needed to disappear without a trace. But he couldn’t afford to be reckless. If he made any sudden moves with his money, his father would notice. And the last thing Logan wanted was his father’s suspicion.

“When we get to Italy, I want to get a puppy,” Matteo said. “We can name him Fluffy.”

Logan snorted. “So does that mean it has to be like a Pomeranian or something?”

“Yes. Any breed that’s fluffy. Otherwise the name wouldn’t make sense.”

“Right. Of course.” 

“Though a Labrador would be cute, too. A gentle giant.” Matteo’s smile dimmed. “Frank had a dog like that, right?”

The mention of his older brother had Logan’s throat tightening up. “Yup. He was called Connie. He was a good boy.”

Connie had passed away along with Frank and his mother in a car accident three years ago. It still felt like it was yesterday.

Matteo gently dragged him out of the bathroom and into the small kitchen, guiding him to sit at the counter. He pressed a kiss to Logan’s cheek and asked, “What do you want for dinner?”

Logan swallowed past the lump in his throat, forcing a smile. “Surprise me.”

“Challenge accepted.”

For the next few minutes, Logan watched Matteo move about the kitchen as he prepared their meal. He talked non-stop, going into detail about what color he wanted to paint their would-be house in Italy, how amazing it would be to wake up right next to the sea, what with all the fresh air. He wanted to start a small business, maybe a bookstore, and get into all kinds of other hobbies.

They’d have all the time in the world. They’d have all the freedom. They’d leave everything behind—Logan’s family that had too many secrets, Matteo’s abusive adoptive parents—and it would just be the two of them, free from anything that could stand in their way. 

Logan found himself smiling, his chest feeling tight when he thought about what their future had to offer. He could finally escape his fucked up family. He could start anew, bury his old self and every terrible thing he’d had to do, and live out the rest of his life with the person he loved the most in this world. 

What would Frank think, if he knew what Logan was planning? It was a question that often haunted him late into the night, keeping him awake until sunrise. 

Frank had always been the perfect son. Four years older than Logan, he was being groomed to take over their father’s place. Logan had looked up to him, admired him, believed he was everything a brother should be. Frank had been busy, but he always made time for Logan. He had kept him shielded from the darker sides of their family, and back then, Logan had been grateful. But after Frank’s death, that protection disappeared, leaving Logan unprepared to face the truth of who he was, with all the weight of being the "perfect son" suddenly falling on his shoulders.

“Dinner is served,” Matteo said dramatically, placing a plate of meatloaf and mashed potatoes in front of Logan.

“Thank you,” Logan said with a smile. “Tomorrow, I’ll cook something for you.”

Matteo grinned up at him. “You’re the best.”

“Anything for you, baby.” When Matteo blushed, Logan added, “You’re so cute.”

“Shut up.” Matteo lightly slapped Logan’s hand away when he reached out to pinch his cheek. “Might I remind you, I’m older than you.”

“By literally six months.”

“That still makes me older.” Matteo crossed his arms over his chest. “So, I’m the boss here. You should be more respectful to me.”

“That’s not what you said last night when you were bouncing on my dick.”

Matteo screamed. “What the hell! Don’t say that stuff in front of our food!”

“What? Like they’d care?”

“It’s a matter of principle,” Matteo gritted out, his face turning into an even darker shade of red.

Logan laughed. “Okay, okay. No more crude words in front of the meatloaf and mashed potatoes. Noted.”

“Good.” Matteo huffed and dug into his food.

After a beat, Logan said, “You literally asked me to call you a dirty little slut last night—”

Matteo screamed again, this time louder, as though it could drown out Logan’s voice. He leaned over the counter to slap a palm over Logan’s mouth, nearly knocking over his plate in the process.

Logan laughed until his cheeks ached.

⌖

The Red Veil pulses with life tonight, sitting in the heart of the city’s underbelly. Music thrums through the walls, a deep bass that Logan can feel even from where he stands outside. 

He straightens his suit, walking past the long line of people waiting to get into the night club. He forgoes the main entrance decorated by tasteful placements of neon red lights, and heads toward the side of the building where there are considerably fewer people hanging around.

Halfway down the alley, he stops before a pair of metal double doors. Two bouncers flank this entrance, and all it takes is one glance at Logan’s face for them to open the doors. Logan brushes past them without another word.

As he steps inside, the scent of alcohol, sweat, and cheap perfume assaults his nose, mixing with the faint trace of cigarette smoke. Red and gold lights wash over the crowded dance floor where bodies tightly press together.

Logan doesn’t linger. His focus is ahead—past the bartenders mixing overpriced drinks, past the bouncers stationed near the VIP entrance. He moves with purpose, the weight of his reputation clearing a path without him having to say a word. A couple of girls throw flirtatious looks his way, but he doesn’t spare them a glance.

He heads for the dim hallway at the back of the club, walking past several guarded doors where private conversations take place, where dirty deals are finalized. Business that fuels the Peyton family's empire.

At the end of the hall stands an elevator—sleek and unmarked, blending into the lavish design of The Red Veil’s interior. Logan steps inside, the low hum of the club’s bass fading as the doors glide shut behind him.

He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small key. Beneath the standard panel of numbered floors, his fingers find a near-invisible seam. He presses against it, revealing a discreet compartment that slides open with a faint click. Inside, a single keyhole waits.

He slots the key in and turns.

The regular floor buttons go dark, replaced by a single illuminated option—one that doesn’t exist on any building directory. Logan presses it. The mechanism whirs softly, the compartment sealing itself back into the panel as the elevator begins its smooth, silent descent.

Once he reaches his destination, he steps out of the elevator and walks down the length of another hallway, his footsteps muted by the plush carpet. At the end of the hall are large wooden double doors guarded by two uniformed men.

Logan stands before them. “Arthur’s expecting me.” 

The two men let him inside without another word. He walks past the living space with velvet couches and a fireplace, heading for the office. Once he steps through the doors, he’s immediately greeted by Arthur Peyton’s sharp eyes and cutting smile.

He sits behind a sleek, polished table, casually swirling the whiskey in his glass. “Logan.”

Logan shuts the door behind him. “Uncle.”

“Sit,” he says, gesturing at the chair in front of his table. “Whiskey?”

Logan sits and shakes his head. 

“Alright.” Arthur leans back in his chair, steepling his fingers. He sighs. “Well. I suppose we can just get straight into it. You know why I called you, yes?”

“Yes. Kent Andrews has been taken care of.”

He hums. “You mean you killed him?”

“Yes.”

Arthur removes his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose. “But the damage has already been done.”

Logan clenches his jaw and says nothing. Instead, he lets his gaze wander the room. The place looks the same as it has every other time he’s been here—paintings, expensive figurines, wooden shelves filled with bottled liquor—each item carefully chosen to radiate wealth and control. 

He exhales through his nose, rolling his shoulders back. The familiar setting doesn’t bring comfort. If anything, it reminds him that in this room, in this building, he will always be expected to fall in line.

“I’m working on it,” Logan says. “I’m looking for a new place—somewhere I can set up another prostitution house to replace the old one. I’ve got my eyes on a couple of girls—”

Arthur laughs. He takes a sip of his whiskey and watches him closely. “Logan. I fear we’ve had a bit of a misunderstanding.”

The condescension in his voice makes Logan’s irritation spike.

“You see, we’ve been talking about you.” Arthur stands, leaving his glass on the table and walking to a nearby shelf. He plucks a random book. “You were promising in the beginning, of course. You established our influence in the southern district. Managed several prostitution houses, moved merchandise through illicit markets, picked up boys from the streets and turned them into promising recruits.”

Logan can’t stand to look at the fake regret in Arthur’s face, so he looks down at his hands. There’s a small bloodstain on the white sleeve of his dress shirt, peeking out from beneath his suit blazer. 

“But you see, you’ve become something of a loose cannon lately.” Arthur slides the book back into place with deliberate care, then turns, leaning against the wall as he fixes Logan with a measured stare. “Shooting some random kid and dragging our family back under the police’s microscope. Making yourself a fugitive. Taking out a whole police convoy just to kill Andrews out of spite. Fucking hell, Logan—are you eighteen years old again? Do you even think before you act, or do you just shoot first and leave us to deal with the mess later?”

Logan takes a deep breath, biting back the cutting words that want to escape his mouth. He’s aware of his mistakes. He knows he fucked up a lot, especially lately—and that’s why he’s trying to fix it. 

“Arthur,” he starts, keeping his voice calm, “just give me a few more weeks, and everything will be back to normal.”

Arthur shakes his head, clicking his tongue in disappointment. “How? How do you think you can continue to run our operations while being a wanted man? Wherever you go, there’s a risk that a cop’s tailing you. You coming here is a risk in itself, Logan. We can’t have the police learning more about us than they already do thanks to your fuck-ups.” 

Logan stands, hands curled into fists at his sides. “Then what the hell are you suggesting?”

“You won’t like it.”

“Fucking tell me. Isn’t that what I’m here for? You don’t give a fuck about what I have to say.” Logan’s pulse slams against his skull. “You’ve already made your decision, haven’t you? So just fucking say it.”

Arthur just watches him for a few tense seconds. Then, his gaze turns even sharper. He suddenly moves forward, and Logan has no choice but to take an involuntary step back.

“You’re right,” Arthur says smoothly. “We had a family meeting the other day and made a decision.”

He may be pushing seventy, growing frailer by the day, but right now, Arthur holds all the power. He stands with the quiet certainty of a man who knows he can’t be challenged.

“We’ve decided it’s best for you to lay low for now—somewhere far from here. Europe, perhaps. I hear it’s beautiful this time of year. We’ll take care of everything. A new name, a fresh passport, a property waiting for you the moment you land. All you have to do is say yes.”

Logan just stands there, the words hitting him like a punch to the gut. For a second, he can’t even react—just stares at Arthur, trying to wrap his head around what he just heard.

Then it sinks in.

They’re getting rid of him.

His fingers twitch at his sides, his jaw tightening as a slow, burning anger takes over. His breath comes a little sharper, but he forces himself to stay still, to keep his voice steady.

“You—” His voice catches. “You can’t be fucking serious.”

Arthur moves back to his desk, all casual, like he hasn’t just ripped Logan’s entire life out from under him. 

“It’s what’s best for the family. But don’t worry about the south—Collin will take over. He’ll make sure all the work you put into building that territory doesn’t go to waste.”

Logan’s jaw tightens, a sharp, burning heat flaring in his chest. His territory—his decades of work, the blood he’s spilled, the sacrifices he’s made—handed off like some meaningless trinket. 

His fingers dig into his palms, nails pressing deep. “You’re giving it to your son. Just like that.”

Arthur doesn’t even look up from his desk, flipping open a folder like this is just another routine decision. “It’s not personal, Logan. It’s what’s best.”

Logan lets out a bitter laugh, sharp and humorless. “Not personal? I built that damn territory from nothing.” 

Arthur finally meets his gaze, calm, unshaken. “And now it’s time to step back.”

Logan’s vision tunnels for a moment. He imagines grabbing Arthur, brutally slamming his face into his pristine table, doing it again and again until his face becomes completely unrecognizable. Until his face is nothing but a sickening mess of dark blood and ripped flesh and tissue. He imagines grabbing one of his liquor bottles, smashing it against the wall, using its sharp, pointy ends to gauge the old man’s fucking eyes out—

“That’ll be all,” Arthur says. He smiles up at Logan, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’ll give you time to settle whatever business you have left here. Then, I’ll have one of my men get in touch with you. Until then, lay low. Don’t pull any more stunts that will make this harder than it has to be.”

Blood rushes to his ears, making everything sound muffled. 

“Understood?” Arthur looks at him expectantly, but there’s a wicked glint in his eyes that tells Logan he’s enjoying this more than he lets on.

It takes all of Logan’s self-control not to kill him. But fucking hell does he want to. He needs an outlet for the burning rage under his skin, and would love nothing more than Arthur to be the one to receive the brunt of it.

But he holds himself back. After all, Arthur deserves something worse than an easy death.

“Understood,” Logan says, forcing the words out of his mouth. His skin vibrates with repressed rage, but he manages to step away from the desk and keep his face passive. 

Arthur smiles. “Good boy.”

Logan grits his teeth, his vision turning red for a split second before he marches out of the room, managing not to slam the door shut behind him. 

Somehow, he makes it out of the club. Somehow, he makes it back to his apartment. He storms inside, ignoring the quiet eeriness, and heads for his room.

He takes several deep, calming breaths, his jaw clenched as he paces back and forth, glancing out the floor-to-ceiling window every now and then with the hopes of distracting himself. It doesn’t work.

Chest heaving, he stops before his reflection in front of a full-length mirror, coming face to face with a man who has nothing left. Nothing. For a second, he barely recognizes the man staring back. He looks like an animal backed into a corner. 

A man with nothing left to lose.

His fingers twitch. He meets his own eyes—a spineless coward, a failure—and slams his fist into the mirror.

The mirror shatters on impact, cracks splitting outward, pieces breaking off and clattering to the floor. Pain shoots up his arm, but it’s distant—muted beneath the fury raging inside him. 

He stands there, breathing hard, watching his reflection splinter into a dozen fractured pieces.

⌖

By the time he reached Matteo’s apartment, the streets were already dark. He barely remembered parking before he was out of the car, excitement thrumming under his skin. His steps were quick, nearly frantic, as he bounded up the stairs two at a time. The weight of the plane tickets in his pocket felt heavier with every step—proof that their escape to Italy was real. 

That they could finally begin the lives they'd been dreaming of for years.

Logan had turned eighteen around three weeks ago, and since then, he had been busy setting everything up. Every move had to be calculated, every dollar spent had to go unnoticed. His family couldn’t suspect a thing—not until he and Matteo were gone for good.

He started by securing fake documents. A new passport, a new name—one for him and one for Matteo. He paid in cash so there was no paper trail or digital footprint. The guy who handled it—he went by the name Robbie—was expensive, but he knew what he was doing, so Logan considered him worth the price. A single mistake on their documents could mean getting flagged at the airport, and that wasn’t a risk Logan was willing to take.

Next was the money. Logan couldn’t drain his accounts all at once as that would raise too many questions. Instead, he withdrew small amounts over time, stashing the cash in a safe place. Some of it went into an offshore account under his new identity, just in case. The rest would get them through the first few months in Italy while they figured things out.

Then, there was their new life waiting across the ocean. Matteo had found a small apartment in Naples through an old connection—a place rented under their new names, ready for them to step into as soon as they landed. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. Enough to disappear, to start over, to leave behind everything and everyone who had ever tried to control them.

All that was left now was getting out. Their flight was booked for tomorrow night, one-way tickets to freedom. Logan just had to get through tonight without anything going wrong.

Once Logan reached the fourth floor, he dashed down the hallway, ignoring the way the wooden floorboards groaned in protest with every step. Matteo has been living here since he moved out of his foster parents’ house about half a year ago, and this place was the best he could get. It fit Matteo’s budget and was within walking distance from where he worked as a cashier at a grocery store. So, while this old apartment building wasn’t the fanciest place in the city, it gave them everything they needed.

Before Matteo moved here, Logan would always take him to various hotels so they could spend time together. Logan could never bring his boyfriend to his house—it was too risky. While his father wasn’t always home and was often preoccupied with their business to really keep an eye on who his son invited over, his father had ears and eyes everywhere. Someone could spot Matteo, and that would raise a whole host of questions that would put them both at risk.

So, this apartment became something like a true home for the both of them these past few months—no pesky, controlling parents to watch out for. Just the two of them.

Logan stopped before Matteo’s door, a grin taking over his face as he fished the key from his pocket. As he tried to slot the key into the hole, he realized the door was already open. With a slight push, the wooden door swayed slightly inward, its rusty hinges creaking. 

“Babe?” Logan stepped inside. 

It was oddly dim, with nothing but the floor lamps open. Usually, Matteo liked to have all the lights on, especially when he cooked. It was only around 9 PM, so Matteo couldn’t have gone to bed already. Frowning, Logan flicked on the overhead lights in the living room. 

The sight that greeted him made the blood in his veins turn to ice.

Matteo sat on the floor, back pressed against the couch, his breathing uneven. His lip was split, his shirt rumpled like someone had yanked him around. But it was the look in his eyes that made it hard for Logan to breathe—wide and frantic, filled with silent pleading.

And then there was the man standing over him.

Logan’s father.

The room tilted. A slow, creeping dread curled around Logan’s ribs, squeezing tight. His fingers went numb, his limbs stiff and suddenly uncooperative. He wanted to move, wanted to run to Matteo, pull him up, get him out of here—do anything—but his father’s stare locked him in place.

It was the same look he’d given Logan all those years ago when he caught him crying at his mother and brother’s funeral. The same look he’d given him in the months after Frank’s death, when Logan kept falling short, failing to live up to the impossible standard his brother had set.

But this—this was worse.

This wasn’t just frustration or disappointment. The fury in his father’s eyes was raw, blistering, something that stripped away the usual cold indifference and left behind a face twisted with a kind of rage he hadn’t seen on him before. It sharpened his features even more, darkened every shadow, turning his face into something harsh and unforgiving.

“D-dad,” Logan choked out, his heart hammering against his chest. However, with one look at Matteo’s tear-streaked face and disheveled appearance, Logan's apprehension was quickly swallowed by a surge of fury. “What did you do to him?”

Dad dusted off his suit. “Just introduced myself to your little fairy boyfriend. No need to overreact.”

Logan took a step forward, but then his father moved, casually parting his blazer to reveal a gun tucked into the waistband of his suit pants.

He froze mid-step, breath catching in his throat. His pulse pounded in his ears, drowning out everything else. His father didn’t even have to reach for the gun—just the sight of it was enough to send a clear message.

Despite the rage and fear knotting in his chest, Logan didn’t dare make another move. One wrong step, one wrong word, and this could end in blood.

“I’ll give it to you,” his father began, pulling out the gun and inspecting it. Logan heard Matteo let out a muffled sob. “You were good. I didn’t catch wind of what you were planning to do until today.”

Logan’s eyes flicked around the apartment—the closest thing to a weapon was a half-empty wine bottle on the coffee table. But it was too far. Reaching for it would take seconds too long, and his father would be faster with the gun. A fistfight was an option, but the gun changed everything. It was too risky. 

With Matteo so close, there were too many ways this could go horribly wrong.

“Italy does sound amazing. I was there last year for a business trip—such a beautiful place.” His father gripped the pistol. A quick glance at the magazine, then a slight pull of the slide—just enough to show a round in the chamber. The sharp click as it snapped back into place sent a chill down Logan’s spine. “However, you forgot one little thing.”

Logan’s hand drifted toward his belt buckle—if he moved fast enough, he could rip it free and use it as a weapon.

“The first lesson I taught you: trust no one,” said his father, his eyes glinting cruelly. “Robbie’s great at forging documents, sure. But at the end of the day, he’s a businessman. And nothing sells higher than valuable information. Logan Peyton planning a sunny little escape to Italy with his pansy boyfriend? That’s a jackpot in his eyes.”

He’d deal with Robbie’s betrayal some other day—right now, Logan’s main priority was to get Matteo out of this, safe and unharmed.

 “Dad,” Logan tried, keeping his voice low, “Matteo has nothing to do with this.”

He laughed. Loud and boisterous. “Oh, Logan. Do you think I’m a fool?” 

“He is innocent—”

“He has tainted you!” His father yelled, loud enough that Logan could imagine the floor shaking under his feet. “No son of mine is a fucking faggot. Somehow, he’s convinced you to run away with him, so he could use all your money like the leech that he is!”

Dad suddenly seized Matteo by the hair, jerking him upright with a sharp yank that tore a pained yelp from Matteo's throat. The pistol was at Matteo’s temple in an instant, the metallic click of the hammer cocking echoing through the room. “This madness ends now, Logan.”

Logan was moving before he realized it, launching himself straight at his father without another thought. They hit the ground hard, the impact jolting through him—then a gunshot shattered the air. Logan barely gave it a thought, assuming the trigger had been pulled in the scuffle. 

He sat on top of his father, delivering a brutal blow to his face just as the man tried to shove him off. He punched him again and again until his knuckles ached, until his father’s face was splattered with red. His father may have been older and more experienced, but Logan was younger and stronger. 

He had to pay for touching Matteo like that.

“You don’t fucking touch him!” Logan yelled in his face, grabbing him by the lapels of his suit and slamming his head harshly back into the ground. “We’re leaving this fucking country—I don’t give a fuck what you have to say!”

Logan eventually tired, his chest heaving. He stumbled back onto his feet, looking down at his father’s sprawled form. Dad coughed but made no move to stand, merely staring up at him with sharp, cold eyes.

“You’ve lost your fucking mind,” his father croaks out. “But I’ll give it to you, boy—at least you’ve finally grown some fucking balls.”

He ignored him, turning around. His father’s gun had been kicked to the corner of the room, though the smell of gunpowder lingered in the air. Logan quickly looked around, finding Matteo sitting with his back against the door, his head bowed.

“Matteo,” he said as he crouched before him, taking Matteo’s face between his hands. Matteo looked up at him—eyes glassy with tears and slightly unfocused. There was a paleness to Matteo’s skin that made panic rip through him.

“Logan,” Matteo said, his voice so incredibly small and quiet. Tears welled up in his eyes. “Logan…”

“What is it?” Logan’s heart thundered in his ears. Something was terribly wrong. “Are you hurt?”

Only then did Logan notice the growing red stain on the front of Matteo’s shirt. The sight of it made bile rise up in Logan’s stomach, leaving him paralyzed.

“I… I don’t…” How did he get shot? Had Logan been too late? He’d taken his father down. He’d beaten him bloody. He'd heard a gunshot earlier, but that bullet hadn't hit anything. Right?

“It’s okay,” Matteo whispered, his green eyes growing dimmer by the second. “It’s okay, Logan…”

“I—Matteo—” Logan’s throat constricted, making it harder to breathe. His vision blurred with tears. “I don’t understand—”

Logan stared at the red stain spreading across Matteo’s shirt. It was the blue shirt Logan had gotten him for his eighteenth birthday. The one Matteo loved so much that he’d wear it every time they went out to eat. 

“Hey, look at me,” Matteo said, his voice weak. Logan felt his cold hand touch his cheek, forcing Logan to meet his eyes. “Just look at me. It’s okay.”

A ragged sob ripped from Logan’s throat as reality sank in. 

Matteo had been shot. 

Somewhere in the chaos—whether in the struggle or just before Logan tackled his father—the bullet had found him. Had it happened in that split second before Logan made his move? Had he already been too late before he even lunged?

“You’ll be okay,” Logan said, his voice trembling. “It’s okay, baby, I’ll take you to the hospital. You’ll be okay.”

Matteo’s gaze had become even more unfocused, the spark inside them slowly disappearing. His breathing slowed, lips pale, tear tracks on his cheeks glistening under the fluorescent lights. The cold hand on Logan’s cheek fell. 

“Matteo?” Panic was making it hard for Logan to think. He took Matteo’s hands, squeezing them between his own. “Matteo? H-hey, stay awake. I’m calling an ambulance.”

Matteo’s lips quirked into a small, quiet smile. His eyes slipped closed. Blood continued to spread.

“Matteo.” Logan took him by the shoulders and shook him. His eyes still remained closed. “Wake up. Hey. WAKE UP!”

Logan slapped him. He didn’t respond. Logan shook him again, shook him until he slipped onto his back, a pool of red gathering beneath him. Logan frantically checked for a pulse on his wrist. On his neck. 

Nothing.

“Hey.” Logan leaned over him, tears making it hard to see Matteo’s face. “HEY!”

Nothing.

For a moment, Logan’s mind went completely blank. He stared at Matteo’s unconscious form—someone who had always been so lively—and couldn’t make sense of what he was looking at. His chest was still, his body pale and cold.

Logan’s hands hovered over Matteo’s wound, shaking so badly he could barely press down to stop the bleeding. He was trembling all over, breath coming in short, panicked gasps. Blood seeped between his fingers, warm and sticky, spreading in slow, damning waves across Matteo’s shirt.

“No, no, no. Come on, baby. Come on,” Logan pleaded, pressing down harder. “Stay with me. Just—just open your eyes.”

Matteo didn’t stir.

Logan’s entire world came crashing around him. His ears rang. The weight of the moment pressed on his chest, making it impossible to breathe. He wasn’t ready for this. Matteo was supposed to make it. They were supposed to leave together, start over. 

They were supposed to be free.

“Please,” Logan whispered. “Please don’t do this to me.”

Nothing.

“Baby, please…”

Nothing.

“It’s for the better,” came a voice behind him. “Trust me, Logan. You’ll thank me when you’re older.”

The storm in Logan's head went quiet. 

He calmly stood, eyes trained on the river of blood coming from Matteo’s chest. He turned around, meeting his father’s eyes.

“I’ll let this slide. Just this once,” Dad said, fixing his necktie. His face was a mess of bruises and cuts, but he seemed unfazed by it. “It had to be done, Logan. You know how it is.”

Something glinted in the corner of his eye. He turned toward it, finding Dad’s pistol on the ground, next to the wall. 

“I’ll have Martin clean this up. In the meantime, I want you to head straight back home. Your uncle has a big assignment for you tomorrow.”

Logan leaned down and grabbed the gun. He checked the chamber; fifteen bullets left.

“And it’s about time you spend more time in the prostitution houses. Heck, you can even stay at Arthur’s nightclub. Get all the women you need and man the fuck up.”

He turned, lifted his arms, and fired a bullet right at his father's chest. There was a pained gasp, and then he squeezed the trigger again. His father fell to the ground, so Logan stepped forward until he was standing over him. He pulled the trigger again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again.

Click.

Logan squeezed the trigger once more, but all he got was that hollow, useless sound. Click.  

He tried one more time. Click.

Empty.

Logan dropped the useless gun to the ground, crouching in front of his father. His once-gray suit was now fully red, stained by blood. The sticky liquid pooled around him on the ground. Logan checked the man’s pulse.

Dead.

He stood and walked back to where Matteo lay sprawled on the ground. Logan gently brushed his hair out of his face, letting his fingers linger on his soft skin. He pulled his boyfriend into his lap, letting him rest his head on his thigh.

Matteo kept his eyes closed, unresponsive. But Logan knew the bright, green eyes that hid underneath. Logan stared down at him, memorizing every detail—the curve of his full, pink lips, the faint freckles on his nose, the way his lashes cast shadows over his too-pale cheek, the way his brown hair curled around his slim face.

“It’s okay, baby,” Logan whispered. Gentle, because Matteo loved gentle. “He’s dead now. You’re safe now.”

Matteo said nothing.

⌖

Logan basks in the silence.

All he hears is his quiet breaths and the subtle rustle of sheets beneath him. Cigarette smoke lingers in the air, weaving through the dim light in thin, subtle wisps. He takes another drag from his cigarette before stubbing it out in the ashtray on the bedside table.

There’s a groan beside him. Logan rests his head against the headboard, looking down. The boy’s awake.

“I’m thirsty,” the boy says, his voice deep and scratchy. Nothing like the high-pitched, sweet voice he was putting on last night at the club.

Logan pulls the duvet down, revealing the boy’s face and bare, hairless chest. Young. Probably no older than twenty. He blinks up at Logan—messy brown curls, pale skin, blue eyes. Under the club lights, they had almost looked green.

“What’s your name again?” Logan asks.

He frowns. “Danny.”

“Danny,” Logan repeats. He lets his eyes trail over the boy’s face. He’s pretty, sure. But his voice is grating. “Get the fuck out of my house.”

“What?” The boy blinks, as if he misheard.

Logan stands, grabbing his discarded shirt off the floor. “You heard me.”

Danny scoffs, running a hand through his curls. “Unbelievable.” He throws off the duvet and climbs out of bed, snatching up his clothes in quick, jerky movements. “You didn’t seem to mind me being here last night.”

That’s true, at least. Danny was a good fuck. Overzealous. Energetic. Eager to please. But when Logan meets his eyes, he feels irritation crawl up his skin. “That was last night.”

Danny yanks his shirt over his head, muttering under his breath. “You’re a real asshole, you know that?”

Logan leans against the door, head tilted as he watches the boy. He’s lithe—almost too skinny—standing nearly a foot shorter than Logan. His gaze drifts over the boy’s narrow shoulders, delicate wrists, and the faint outline of ribs pressing against his pale skin.

He feels something hot beneath his skin. He imagines tossing the boy back into the bed, ripping his clothes off, shoving his face into the mattress, and forcing himself into that delicious heat. Danny would scream. They fucked last night, yes, but it would still hurt him without at least a little bit of prep. He’d try to fight back, but Logan would easily take his wrists and pin them above his head. 

This boy would be so fucking easy to break. 

Danny turns, fully dressed now, a frown still plastered on his face. He checks his pockets and seems to find what he’s looking for. When he heads for the door, Logan blocks his path.

“What now?” Danny snaps.

Such a brat. Logan itches to teach him a lesson. And with that face…

“Just let me out,” the boy says, and this time, a touch of anxiety creeps into his voice. 

Logan takes a deep breath. He looks out the window. It’s dark, but it’s probably only a few hours from sunrise. This kid probably has a friend or roommate waiting for him back at his apartment. He’s probably expected back at school or work or whatever it is he does on a Monday morning.

Arthur’s voice echoes in his head: Until then, lay low. Don’t pull any more stunts that will make this harder than it has to be.

That split second of distraction is all Danny needs. He slips past Logan, stumbling slightly as he yanks the door open. He doesn’t look back—just bolts out of the room. A few seconds later, the front door slams shut.

Logan stands there for a second, listening until he can’t hear the boy anymore, and the place is fully quiet once again.

Days pass by in a similar fashion. Logan doesn’t go to places without a cap and sunglasses, and even then, he only goes out at night and doesn’t wander into territories where cops and snitches are rampant. He has Ricky handle whatever business needs to be handled, and he stays in the shadows.

Logan smokes, drinks, brings home pretty brunette boys to fuck—rinse and repeat. 

Until he receives the phone call.

“Guess what, boss?” Ricky says on the other end of the line. “We found him.”

Logan stops at a red light. The sun is high in the sky and the heat is unbearable. He can feel his palms sweating where they’re gripping the steering wheel. “Where?”

“Fuckin’ Ashford Street. Remember Delaney? The kid you shot? That exact same apartment building.”

Sweat drips down the side of his temple. 

“Talk about hiding in plain sight.” Ricky laughs. “I’ll send you some pictures. Sani said he took them yesterday. By the looks of it, Delaney and your boy are living together.”

A car horn blares loudly behind him. Logan ends the call and checks Ricky’s message. He watches the images load on his screen, and when he can finally get a good look at them, he’s overtaken by a searing, hot weight in his chest that coils tighter with every second.

It’s Julian—his Julian—with that kid he thought he’d left for dead all those months ago. The series of images show them emerging from the apartment building, heading for what he assumes is Delaney’s car. In one of the photos, it shows Delaney’s hand on Julian’s waist, guiding him forward. In another, Julian is laughing at something Delaney said, his bright eyes glittering under the sun.

Someone yells. Car horns blare, one after the other. Logan slowly looks up to see that the light is green. He locks his phone. Sets it down with a carefulness that doesn’t match the way his fingers tremble. 

Somehow, he manages to continue driving. 

He doesn’t look at his phone again throughout his entire drive to Ashford Street. Doesn't leave the car for hours until Julian and Delaney leave the building and get into the car. He keeps his eyes on Delaney’s car as he follows them, his grip on the wheel tight, knuckles pale. He parks his car and watches Julian having fun with a bunch of kids his age at the beach.

Like he’s got no worries about anything. 

Like he’s already forgotten. 

Like he's moved on.

When the sun sets, Logan steps out of the car. He positions himself beside a lamppost, unmoving, his posture calm despite the slow, smoldering rage tightening in his chest.

We’ve decided it’s best for you to lay low for now—somewhere far from here. Europe, perhaps. I hear it’s beautiful this time of year. 

He spots some of the people Julian was with, watches as they walk past him—so careless, just laughing amongst themselves and not even looking where they’re going. 

We’ll take care of everything. A new name, a fresh passport, a property waiting for you the moment you land. All you have to do is say yes.

Then, not long after, Julian and Delaney.

I’ll give you time to settle whatever business you have left here.  

Julian looks tired—he's walking slowly, eyes droopy. He passes a lamppost and the light illuminates his eyes, brings focus to the bits of sand stuck in his hair. Delaney says something, and Julian smiles—warm and easy. Happy.

Logan stares, drinking in every detail like a man starved, his jaw locked so hard it aches. 

Don’t pull any more stunts that will make this harder than it has to be.

Julian looks up. Their eyes lock.

For a second, Julian doesn’t move—doesn’t even breathe. Then the color drains from his face, eyes widening with a look Logan has come to miss. A look of pure, unadulterated terror.

Slowly, Logan smiles.

Chapter Text

Part III

Dark Paradise

☾

Julian kept his eyes on the door, fixated on the sliver of light beneath it. First, he heard pounding footsteps—then a shadow shifted, blocking the narrow strip of light from the hallway.

He was back.

Heart in his throat, Julian straightened where he was seated on the couch. All the lights were closed save for the pair of floor lamps in the living room, which emitted a soft, yellowish glow. Julian shivered as a draft slipped in through the window, resisting the urge to wrap his arms around himself.

There was the sound of keys, the doorknob rattling, and then the door swung open. For a moment, all Julian could see was a hulking silhouette at the door, tall and imposing, face hidden in the shadows.

It took Julian back to that wretched night when he was alone at home, the night his mother overdosed. 

The night he lost everything. 

Cigarette smoke. Gunpowder. Sweat. Blood.

A shiver ran through him, and this time, it wasn’t from the cold.

Logan stepped inside, slamming the door closed behind him. Julian tried to suppress a flinch at the loud sound, but failed. Logan only smiled. “What’s for dinner?”

Julian stood up. “I m-made you grilled chicken. With rice and broccoli.” 

When Logan stepped closer, Julian got to see him better. He was wearing a leather jacket over a white, stained shirt. He’d removed his boots at the entryway and slipped into a pair of flip flops. Julian instinctively shrank under his gaze, feeling as though Logan carried a darkness with him—one that always seemed to close in, leaving Julian struggling to breathe.

“Well. Where is it?”

That was his cue. Julian practically dashed to the kitchen, hands trembling as he pulled the dish he’d painstakingly prepared hours ago from the fridge. He then put it in the microwave and forced himself to stand still, waiting until the timer went off.

While Logan was in his bedroom, probably getting changed, Julian prepared the table. He put the plate on a placemat, then poured cold water into a glass. He’d thought of making dessert earlier, but Julian wasn’t very good at baking yet, so he chickened out at the last minute.

He stood at the side of the table as Logan emerged from his room, now in a pair of shorts and a plain top. He sat at the table, arms crossed, and for a moment he only stared at the food Julian prepared, his face unreadable.

The silence went on for minutes, long enough that Julian was on the brink of shaky tears when Logan finally spoke. “What did you put in this?”

Julian swallowed. “I—I found chicken breasts in the freezer, so I used that. Um. Some olive oil, spices. White rice. I also used the broccoli I found in the fridge.”

Logan continued to stare at him, making Julian fidget. Julian didn’t know what to expect. At the whorehouse, Logan was always cold and impossible to read. He always personally requested Julian, and they fucked in Logan’s office, but aside from that, he didn’t really know who Logan was. Yes, he knew Logan owned the prostitution house, and that this man owned him, but he didn’t know Logan as a person. Didn’t know what food he liked. Didn’t know if he was allergic to anything, if he had preferences when it came to food.

It was his first time cooking for Logan. Julian had been living with him for roughly a week now, but it was only last night when Logan told Julian to have food prepared for him when he got back.

Julian felt his throat tighten. Fuck. He should’ve asked what food Logan wanted—that way, there would be a lower risk of upsetting him. He should’ve thought of that last night, but he was tired and sore and aching from Logan’s rough hands. He could hardly think at all. 

Finally, Logan reached out and grabbed the fork. He moved the rice around, poked at the chicken. 

“Would you say you’re a good cook, Julian?”

His hands trembled where he kept them crossed behind his back. “Y-yes, sir. I mean—I cook alright. I’ve cooked for myself and my family before.”

Logan hummed. Kept playing with the food. After a moment, he said, “This looks good.”

Julian felt his shoulders sag with relief. “Thank you, sir.”

Thick silence stretched between them.  Just as Julian gathered the nerve to excuse himself, Logan’s hand shot out. The sudden crash shattered the stillness—ceramic, glass, and food exploding across the floor. Shards skidded in every direction. Julian jerked back in shock, his pulse spiking.

Suddenly, Logan stood and walked right up to Julian, gripping his arm tightly. Julian cried out in pain.

“Do you think I’m an idiot?”

“N-no, sir, I’m s-sorry—”

“You could’ve poisoned that shit. You think I’m gonna eat that?”

Tears clouded his vision, reducing Logan’s face to a blur of jagged shadows and hard edges. “I w-wouldn’t do that, I promise—”

He heard the first hit before he felt it—then came the explosion of pain across his left cheek. Somehow, he was on the ground, stomach pressed against the cold floor, surrounded by jagged shards and scattered rice.

The shock of it all made everything go quiet for a second. Vaguely, he realized that this was the first time Logan hurt him like this. At the whorehouse, Logan was rough when they fucked, but he’d never hit or slapped him. Never.

What had Julian done wrong?

He was torn from his thoughts by a stinging pull on his scalp, and then he felt Logan’s breath against his ear, felt Logan’s chest pressed against his back. Logan pulled his head back by his hair, making Julian choke on a pained sob. 

“It’s not poisoned?”

“No, sir, it’s not!” Julian cried, couldn’t stop the tears. “I swear!”

In a swift move, Logan shoved his head back down so the side of his face was pressed to the ground. Julian felt something cut into his cheek—a broken shard, most likely. 

“Prove it,” Logan said lowly. “Eat.”

With a tight grip on Julian’s hair, Logan forced his face harder against the floor. Pain erupted, sharp and impossible to ignore, as his cheek ground against the surface. There were shards everywhere, and Julian could suddenly smell blood.

“Eat.” Logan repeated.

Julian didn’t know what was happening. Logan had always been terrifying, but he’d never treated him like this before. When Ricky had told him weeks ago that their boss Logan wanted Julian to move into his apartment with him, Julian had felt wary yet relieved. 

Moving in with Logan meant he would only have to please one man rather than several a day. It meant he could just focus on a single client, and he hoped that would make him feel less dirty. Make him feel a little bit safer.

Secretly, deep down, he hoped Logan would be somewhat kind to him. That he’d be kinder than the other Johns who visited him in the whorehouse regularly, who tossed him around like nothing more than a dirty ragdoll.

And since he’d serviced Logan a couple of times in his office at the whorehouse already, Julian somehow convinced himself that Logan could be his reprieve. Logan would fuck him, yes, but maybe, just maybe, if Julian played his cards right, he could get Logan to care about him. Get him to care about Julian enough that Julian wouldn’t have to suffer every day. 

But he should’ve known. How naive had he been to think that someone who owned a prostitution house would have an ounce of humanity inside of him?

“I. said. EAT. IT.” Logan lifted and slammed his face back into the ground, and just like that, Julian felt a switch turn on inside him.

The switch silenced his thoughts, muted his panic and pain. Instead, it made him focus on Logan’s order, and he thought about nothing but that. 

Shakily, Julian brought one of his hands up. There was a clump of rice on the floor in front of his face, so he grabbed that and slowly put it in his mouth. The rice was cold now, but Julian thought it was cooked well enough. He swallowed, and then left behind like a bad aftertaste was the metallic tang of blood.

He scooped up whatever rice he could within his reach, putting it into his mouth without another thought. He did his best to avoid the shards, but at one point, he had to spit out a small piece that had been hidden in the rice—one he almost swallowed.

Julian wasn’t sure how much time passed, but eventually, Logan hauled him back to his feet. Julian looked around, noticing how everything was a bit softer around the edges. He wondered—if he reached out and touched them, would they feel soft and intangible, too?

“Clean yourself up,” Logan said, his grip tight around Julian’s arm. Julian blinked, and then he was inside the bathroom. The white tiles were cold underneath his bare feet, making him shiver.

“When you’re done, clean up the mess outside. Then wait for me in the bedroom.” That was the last thing Logan said before he disappeared, the bathroom door closing firmly behind him.

Silence.

Julian was alone now. 

He slowly walked to the sink, staring down at his hands. His vision swam, but he could see small cuts all over his skin, some of them bleeding. From the shards, most likely. Aside from the blood, his hands also felt oily, because he had touched food with his bare hands earlier.

As if on autopilot, Julian washed his hands with soap and water. Then, he looked up at the mirror, meeting his reflection’s eyes. 

There was a red, blooming bruise on the left side of his face. Meanwhile, his right cheek was littered with small cuts and dried blood. 

Julian didn’t think. He just acted. He leaned over the sink, cupping his hands under the faucet and washing his face with cold water. The cold woke him up a bit, enough that when he straightened back up and stared at himself again in the mirror, tears welled up in his eyes.

He hardly recognized the pitiful boy staring back at him. 

It’s cold, he thought. He wanted to go straight to bed, wrap himself in a blanket, and disappear for a few hours. But he still had to clean the broken shards and wasted food outside. 

I’m tired, was his second thought. 

Despite his increasingly blurred vision, he walked to the corner of the bathroom, sitting down on the cold tile. He pulled his knees into his chest, forcing himself to take deep breaths.

It’s okay, he told himself. This is still better than the whorehouse. It’s okay.

He tried to focus on nothing but those thoughts, but the chill seeping into him was impossible to ignore.

It was cold.

It was always so, so cold.   

☾

He trembles.

Julian can feel the chill creeping up his skin, seeping all the way into his bones. He shivers where he sits, arms tightly wrapped around his knees. He keeps his face tucked in the box of his arms, his head tilted slightly to the side so he can keep an eye on the door.

It’s dark in here, and the only source of light comes from the small gap under the door. There are a couple of shadows moving about on the other side, and he’s certain he hears loud voices, but he can’t make out what they’re saying. 

Nevertheless, he can tell their voices are loud. They must be mad. Furious. 

Logan must’ve called them, asking them to teach Julian a lesson.

An uncontrollable shudder wracks his entire frame. Fuck. They’re mad at him again. What did Julian do this time? He can’t remember. He’s been so careful—he’s been trying so hard not to make a single mistake. But as always, Ricky always faults him for the smallest things. Karl is even worse—he straight-up lies, sometimes. He says Julian did something wrong when he really didn’t, just to get him punished. And Hank—he’s the fucking worst. He’s even worse than Ricky and Karl combined. Julian feels his breath picking up at the mere thought that those men could be standing right outside the bathroom right now, that they could be waiting there with their sharp knives and even sharper grins, that they could just tear the door down without another thought, given that it’s a flimsy piece of thin wood that even Julian could break if he really wanted to—

“Julian?”

He can’t help the whimper that escapes his mouth. Forcefully tearing his eyes away from the line of light under the door, he turns his head into the space between his arms, taking quick, choked breaths. They’re going to punish him. Julian did something wrong, and they’re going to punish him. It’s going to hurt. It’s going to hurt for days—

“Open the door. Please.”

This voice sounds tired. They must’ve been standing there for a long time, exchanging amused glances with each other as they stood there, thinking of how they should go about hurting him this time. 

No. Julian’s had enough. Please. Please. Please. Please.

Why does this always happen? Julian’s been good. His clients love him. They keep coming back for him. What did Julian do wrong? They should just tell him. Tell him and he’ll fix it. They don’t have to hurt him. 

What if Logan’s there, too? 

Julian muffles a sob against his arm, feeling the room spin around him. It’s dark and cold in here, but he feels like he’s suffocating. He’s numb yet overstimulated at the same time, skin tingling like it’s on fire. Julian grips his hair and pulls, pulls, pulls harder—there, he feels pain. He feels a sharp sting against his scalp. He’s not numb. He's still here. He’s still alive.

“Julian?” says another voice. Female. “Please talk to us. Please.”

Is she crying? Who could that be? Maybe it’s Aubrey. Aubrey used to hate him a lot, but lately, she hasn’t been mean to him. They’re around the same age, he’s pretty sure. Julian’s guess is that she likes him simply because he’s the only man in here who isn’t constantly trying to fuck her.

But why would she be out there standing with Ricky and the others? She’s supposed to be in her room. The rooms are always locked. They only open when Johns enter and exit. How did she get out?

And isn’t Julian at Logan’s apartment? Or is he at the whorehouse?

The sound of the doorknob rattling startles him from his thoughts. Fuck, they’re coming in. 

No. Please, no. Please.

“Please,” Julian cries. “Please, enough. Please.”

Will they listen to him? Have they ever? What if they hurt him so bad this time around that it actually kills him? That doesn’t sound too bad, but Julian doesn’t want to hurt while dying. 

Can they not make it hurt this one time? 

The door hinges squeak noisily. Light floods the room, and Julian curls into himself even more. He keeps his face hidden, one arm wrapped around his knees. He uses his other hand to grip his hair—one harsh yank to keep him grounded. All he hears is the thundering in his chest, the blood rushing in his ears, the sound of his teeth chattering. 

“Julian—”

He freezes. They sound close. They’re probably standing right in front of him. Everything suddenly goes quiet. Every part of Julian stills—he doesn’t make a single move. Not a single sound. 

There’s that woman crying again. Her muffled cries sound louder, now, echoing in the bathroom. He hears heavy breathing, but it’s not coming from Julian. It’s not. Julian isn’t making a single sound. 

“Jules…”

Jules. 

Why are they calling him that? 

Only Aaron gets to call him that.

“Hey,” the person says, voice shaky and thin. “It’s me. It’s me, Jules.”

It sounds like… No. It’s not him. It’s a trick. It’s a sick trick.

“Can I touch you, Jules? Please?”

Why the fuck does this guy sound like Aaron? Aaron is miles away—he’s in college, studying. Maybe he’s even graduated by now. Julian isn’t sure, time works weird these days. But Aaron wouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t.

Julian feels that familiar weightlessness wash over him again, like he’s floating in the air. He grips his hair tighter and pulls, twists—

“Stop, stop,” the man says, his voice trembling. 

Julian feels hands closing around his wrists and thinks: this is it. The first hit is going to come at any moment, now. Maybe a kick to the gut. Maybe a boot to his back. 

He can’t do it again. It’ll hurt too much, he doesn’t think he can do it anymore.

“Please don’t…” He doesn’t mean to be noisy. He just has to let them know. He has to at least try. 

A sob rips out of his chest as the man pulls his arms down, firmly removing his grip on his hair. Julian keeps his eyes squeezed shut, every part of him trembling uncontrollably. He tries to stifle his cries, but it’s no use—he’s too scared. He’s terrified to his bones.

“Open your eyes. Open your eyes, Jules. It’s me. Look at me. You’re safe.” The man's voice cracks toward the end.

Julian obeys—he opens his eyes and blinks at the sudden brightness that assaults him. The man is kneeling in front of him, and for a moment, all Julian sees is his silhouette against the bright fluorescent lights. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” Julian says, voice barely audible. “Please, no more, sir. No more.”

The man is unnervingly silent.

Julian blinks, and it clears his vision a bit. 

“It’s okay,” the man finally says. It sounds forced. 

He crouches even lower so they’re face to face. Julian finds himself staring into a pair of kind, familiar eyes. Eyes that are glazed over with tears. 

“It’s just me, Jules. It’s Aaron. Just me.”

Julian stares up at him. There are tear tracks on his cheeks, and the dark bags beneath his eyes are more pronounced than usual. His dark hair’s a mess—slicked with sweat and clinging to his forehead. His lips are pursed in a thin line, and they tremble when he tries for a smile.

It really is Aaron.

Julian blinks again, and he spots Emily standing by the door, her face so pale it looks white. Her mascara’s all messed up from crying. She’s in pajamas, looking like she just rolled out of bed.

“C’mon,” Aaron says quietly. He takes Julian’s hands in his, and Julian feels Aaron’s sweaty hands trembling against his. “Let’s go to the living room.”

Bones creaking, Julian manages to get back on his feet with Aaron’s help. He’s barefoot, so the tiles feel even colder against his skin. Aaron wraps an arm around his waist, and Julian sinks into his side, soaking up all the warmth. 

Aaron sits him down on the couch. Julian keeps his hands on his lap, finding blood under the nails of his right hand. His scalp stings, like a reminder.

“Are you cold?” Aaron suddenly returns with a thick, fluffy blanket and drapes it over Julian’s shoulders. His eyes are wide, almost frantic, as he stares right into Julian’s eyes. “Can you say something? Please?”

For some reason, Julian’s tongue feels too large in his mouth. He wants to speak, but his mouth fails to get the message. Instead, he stays silent, feeling cold and warm yet numb at the same time. 

Everything’s a bit hazy around the edges, kind of like he’s dreaming.

“Okay,” Aaron says, more to himself. He wipes his face, and though the tear tracks disappear from his cheeks, he’s still worryingly pale. “Okay. Em, he’s not responding to me.”

“Just let him be,” Emily says, her voice scratchy. She places a steaming mug on the coffee table in front of Julian. He stares at it, watching the white wisps curl and rise in the air.

“Let him be? For how long?”

“For however long he needs.” There’s that familiar firmness to Emily’s voice again. “Just—we just have to be here. He shouldn’t be alone.”

“Okay.” Aaron crouches in front of Julian again, looking up at him. His brows knit together, and the edges of his eyes are raw and reddened. He takes Julian’s hands in his again, squeezing. “I’m right here. I’ll be here when you come back down.”

Julian stares at Aaron’s thick eyelashes, clumped together with tears. A light stubble dusts his chin and jaw, and his lips are chapped, dark red in spots where the skin has cracked.

It’s odd, seeing Aaron like this. It reminds him of all the other times he’s made Aaron cry.

“Remove the lock on the bathroom door,” Emily says quietly. “I know you have a key, but you took too long to find it.”

“I know.” Aaron’s voice wavers. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking straight. I didn’t realize something wrong until—”

“I told you to keep an eye on him. Anything could’ve happened in that bathroom!”

“I know. I should’ve been faster. I—” He breaks off into a frustrated sigh. “I’m sorry. I was fucking terrified. I could hear him crying in there but he wouldn’t answer. I didn’t… I panicked. I didn’t know what to do.”

Emily purses her lips. “Good thing you called me before you guys even got home. I arrived just in time.”

Aaron nods, his jaw clenching. He looks back at Julian, and immediately, his gaze softens. Julian feels just a little warmer from it. 

“I’ll prepare some food,” Emily says eventually, standing up from the couch. “Don’t leave his side, Aaron.”

As Emily heads for the kitchen, Aaron sits down next to Julian. He wraps an arm over Julian’s shoulders, urging him to rest against Aaron’s side. Julian does so without protest.

Somehow, Aaron manages to grab the remote without jostling Julian too much. He turns on the TV and flips through the channels, eventually settling for a cooking show. The chef is a sweet old lady who explains every step in detail, throwing in a joke or two here and there. Julian likes her very much.

Aaron remains at his side, his thumb tracing soothing circles onto the back of Julian’s shoulder. At one point, Aaron gently urges Julian to rest his head on Aaron’s shoulder, and Julian melts into him like he’s always belonged there.

“I think I can make that for you,” Aaron says when the lady starts showing off the finished product. She says it’s a braised short rib grilled cheese. “Looks simple enough to make, doesn’t it? I think I can get those ingredients from the supermarket.”

Julian hums. He and Aaron generally take turns cooking when they’re not ordering food from restaurants, and Julian can confidently say that Aaron makes for a good cook. He’d even go as far as saying that Aaron has been improving quite significantly. 

“We can pair it with cherry iced tea. I think that would work really well.” Aaron looks at him, and this time, his face looks less harrowed. There’s a small, genuine smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “Can’t go wrong with lemonade, either.”

Julian nods. 

A few more minutes pass, and all he hears is the chef’s warm voice mixing with the sound of Emily moving about in the kitchen. Julian finds himself reaching for the mug on the coffee table, wrapping his hands around it and bringing it close to his face.

It smells like chamomile tea, and it’s not as hot as he usually likes, but this time, he doesn’t mind. He takes a sip and eventually finishes the whole thing. By the time he places the now-empty mug back on the coffee table, his mind is clearer.

That floaty, weightless feeling is gone.

The sound of footsteps alerts him to Emily walking toward them, two plates in hand. She places them on the coffee table, and Julian’s stomach grumbles uncontrollably at the smell.

Waffles and bacon.

“You need to do some grocery shopping soon,” Emily tells Aaron in that matter-of-fact voice of hers. Her eyes drop to Julian’s empty mug, then she looks up at him, surprised. “Julian. You’re feeling better?”

Julian nods. Aaron shifts, turning to look at him, eyes wide.

With their eyes on him like that, he suddenly feels like a specimen under a microscope—exposed, examined. His skin crawls, a shudder he can’t suppress, and he forces out the words, “I’m sorry.”

It only makes Aaron look even more upset. “What are you apologizing for?”

“For earlier. In the bathroom.” Julian fiddles with his fingers, shame making his cheeks burn. “I was acting crazy again.”

Fuck. This is the first time Aaron’s seen him act like that. The embarrassment that crawls up his chest is nearly enough to choke him. Julian feels tears burn in the corners of his eyes, wishing the floor could just swallow him whole.

Aaron must think he’s an absolute nut job. He’s probably regretting ever letting Julian live with him.

A large hand closing around his snaps him out of his thoughts. It’s Aaron’s hand—warm and slightly calloused—and it's such a welcome touch that Julian immediately relaxes. “It’s okay.”

“It’s because you saw Logan earlier,” Emily says, and the mention of his name makes Julian freeze up. “Aaron called and told me you saw him at the beach. I came here as soon as I could.”

That was only a few hours ago? Julian suddenly feels queasy; whatever appetite he had a few seconds ago instantly disappears. 

Logan’s face in the dark—all harsh lines, dark eyes, and that cruel smile—flashes in his head, making goosebumps rise across his skin.

It’s been months since he last saw Logan, long enough that Julian was convinced the man might have forgotten about him now, might’ve decided to just leave him alone…

But of course not. 

When has anything ever been easy in Julian’s life?

His tears feel hot on his face, and he is unable to stop the tremble in his voice. “I don’t—what more does he want from me?” 

It’s not fair. He’s barely surviving as it is. He had one good day with Aaron and his friends, felt like he could breathe for the first time in a while, and suddenly this?

It’s like every moment he thinks he can make it out of the dark hole his life has become, every time he experiences the smallest bit of light, Logan swoops back to remind him that he’s never going to be free.

The choked sob that leaves Julian’s mouth sounds pitiful. “I thought it was over. I thought it was over —”

“It is over,” Aaron says, taking Julian’s face in his hands. Julian blinks away the tears obscuring his view, finding comfort in the certainty in Aaron’s eyes. “That fucker’s never going to touch you again. I promised you that, remember? He can try to terrorize you all he wants—but he’s not getting close to you. Not while I’m here.”

The conviction in Aaron’s voice steadies the panic clawing at him, slowing his tears just a little. Aaron—the kindest, gentlest person he knows—is here, trying to comfort him. Promising, once again, to protect him.

For once, Julian got lucky. Was lucky to even cross paths with Aaron at all.

You don’t deserve him, a voice in Julian’s head says. You’re doing it again. You’re dragging him into your filthy world. You’re going to get him hurt again. This time, it might be worse. 

“We’ll tell the cops,” Emily chimes in, her expression grave. “You still have Officer Amak’s number, right? We can talk to him, ask about getting Julian a police escort. Do you think Logan knows where Julian is staying?”

Aaron furrows his eyebrows, lips pursed. “I made sure no one was following us on the way back, but Logan knows this apartment building. If he saw me with Julian, which he likely did, then he probably connected the dots. Either way, if he really wants to get to Julian, he’ll definitely think of checking here.”

It’s not fair.

Those three words echo in Julian’s head repeatedly. It’s not fair. He’s just starting to live again. It took him months to even be comfortable with leaving Emily’s apartment. He was just going to start working. How will any of that happen with Logan’s shadow looming over him like this?

What the fuck does Logan even want? Is he still not satisfied with the hell he’s put Julian through? How much of an actual devil could the man be to do this to Julian? Doesn’t he have better things to do? Shouldn’t he be hiding, trying to escape the cops who are trying to arrest him?

He made it out of that hellhole. Against all odds, he made it out. Why can’t Logan let him fucking go?

Aaron and Emily’s voices fade into the background. They look serious—both so strong and brave, always being the ones to handle the mess Julian has made. 

He balls his hands into fists, focusing on the sensation of his nails cutting into his palms. His breathing picks up, and a few moments later, he realizes the terror in his bones has given way to anger. Anger at Logan for somehow still having control over him. For owning him like this.

When will it stop?

He can’t let Logan win like this every time. Just one glimpse of him—barely a second of their eyes meeting—and Julian’s curling up into a ball on their bathroom floor, crying hysterically. 

Logan has so much power over him, no matter where he is. 

Julian wants it gone. 

“Excuse me,” Aaron says, standing. His phone is in his hand, and he shoots Julian a soft smile before heading out the door. 

Julian’s heart shoots to his throat. He instinctively stands. “Wait—where are you going?”

Aaron leans down to slip on a pair of shoes. “I’m going to call Officer Amak. I know it’s early, but it’s an emergency.” 

Julian frowns. “You can do that in here.”

“I know. I, uh.” Aaron hesitates. “Sorry. I just need a moment. Fresh air and all that, you know?”

Fresh air? Julian steps back, feeling oddly like he’s been slapped in the face. 

Aaron needs space. Space from Julian. Was it all the crying he’s been doing? The way Julian’s practically been glued to Aaron’s side all night? 

Maybe it was too much for Aaron.

“Okay,” Julian says quietly. He clears his throat. “Um, come back right after. Please.”

Aaron’s face softens at that. “Of course, Jules. I’ll be really quick.”

Then, he’s gone. Julian watches the door close and feels a chilling coldness all over his body. He forces himself to sit, turning over the idea of following Aaron. 

But no. Aaron needs space. Julian’s been suffocating him. The realization makes a lump form in his throat.

“He’ll be back,” Emily says. She’s watching him closely. “He was really worried about you. When he called me, he sounded nearly hysterical. I thought—” she breaks off, face crumpling. “I was worried about you. I thought something terrible had happened.”

Julian looks away from her, shame filling his gut. “I’m sorry, Em. I just—I saw Logan and I…”

“I understand.” She leans closer, squeezing his shoulder. “And don’t say sorry. What are you even saying sorry for?”

“It’s the middle of the night. You were probably sleeping—”

She scoffs. “You sound ridiculous. So what? I’ll come to you whenever you need me. No matter the time. You know me.”

Tears spring to Julian’s eyes. He’s hit some rough patches with Emily these past few months, but he’s so thankful to have her by his side. Now that they don’t live together, Julian misses her more, and he realizes he had taken her for granted in many ways. 

“Thank you,” Julian whispers. “I know I don’t say it much. But… I appreciate how much you look out for me. Thank you.”

Emily sniffles. She throws an arm over his shoulders and pulls him close so they’re leaning on each other’s sides. If Julian closes his eyes, he could pretend they’re in Emily’s old bedroom at their parents’ house, quietly chatting and making sure their parents don’t wake up.

His heart twists in his chest.

“We’re getting that man in jail,” Emily says. “You don’t have to be scared of him anymore.”

Julian just nods. He wishes it really were that simple. 

Time drags, stretching out between the silence and Emily’s quiet reassurances. Julian finds himself relaxing, almost falling asleep on Emily’s shoulder. 

Nearly an hour later, the door suddenly opens, and Aaron steps inside. 

His expression says it all before he even speaks.

“Officer Amak said there would be increased patrols in the area,” Aaron tells them. “And that’s about it—for now.”

Amak apparently said he’ll look into getting a dedicated police escort to watch over Julian, especially when Julian has to go somewhere, but Amak made no promises. He said it was a long shot because the precinct was understaffed. 

Since they were already in touch with the security team of Aaron’s apartment, Amak said there wasn’t much he could do at the moment. He suggested that Julian and Aaron stay indoors for the time being and be more vigilant, but that’s about as useless as any advice could get.   

Aaron is, quite obviously, not happy about it. He's restless. He keeps pacing the room, saying that the cops should be able to do more, that they’re not doing enough.

But now that Julian has calmed down enough to think about it, he realizes nothing has changed. Yes, he saw Logan lurking about in the shadows, but the cops already know that Logan is on the loose, and they’ve been trying to find him for months.

If there was any new information they’ve gained, it was the fact that Logan is now actively seeking Julian out. Aaron gave the cops the beach’s location where Julian saw Logan, and even if they do scout the area, Julian knows it’s too late.

Logan would’ve left already. 

“Just don’t go out by yourself,” Emily says from where she’s still seated beside Julian on the couch. It’s nearing noon now, and with the sun’s harsh glare filtering through the living room window, Julian can clearly see the stress lines all over Emily’s face. She points at Julian, then Aaron. “Both of you.”

“We could hire a private bodyguard,” Aaron says, his brows drawn in concentration. He’s finally stopped pacing, now bracing himself against the kitchen island as he faces Julian and Emily. His expression is set. “That way, we can get Julian protection 24/7.”

Julian swallows. “I don’t think that’s—”

“That can work.” Emily nods. “I can ask Hawke—he likely has connections.”

“Good.” Aaron takes his phone out. “I’ll try looking for an agency or firm, we can choose which one’s best—”

“Guys,” Julian says, his voice sharper than usual. Aaron and Emily’s heads snap toward him, as if they’d forgotten he was even there. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Emily scoffs while Aaron’s frown deepens. As they start arguing, Julian cuts in: “It’s expensive. It’s not practical.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Aaron says immediately. “We’ll make it work. I can chip in.”

Julian feels infinitely grateful that Aaron is ready to help, but also furious at the thought. Aaron’s not rich—he just graduated from college and has yet to land a job related to his degree. From what Julian knows, Aaron’s family is comfortably middle-class, as well. Needless to say, they’re certainly not in any position to be funding Julian’s fucking personal bodyguard.

“I’ve been writing on the side,” Emily chimes in, “selling stories and articles to magazines. I think if I keep at it, I could earn quite a bit. I think we can make it work.”

Julian frowns, looking at Emily. At the dark bruises under her eyes, the paleness of her skin. Not unkindly, he says, “Em, do you even have time to sleep?”

Emily waves him off. “Of course. Oh! Raymond has been getting a lot of callbacks lately. We think he might get a job by next month. So that helps, right?”

Aaron and Emily continue talking, mostly with each other, about expenses and budget and jobs and bodyguards—and it all makes Julian feel like his head might just explode.

It’s unbelievable to him that they’d want to do this. Just a few months ago, Emily was having panic attacks over her savings slowly getting drained, about how that would affect Rose’s future. It’s one of the main reasons Julian moved out of her place. 

And Aaron—how could he be so casual about this? How could he offer his hard-earned money like it’s nothing? And for what? All because Julian had a proper freak-out session after seeing Logan for a split second?

It just… feels wrong. It feels like he’s stealing from them. Feels like taking advantage.

“Can you guys just—” Julian finally gets his voice to work. “I appreciate it. I really do. But we can’t afford it. And I don’t think it’s worth it.”

Emily’s glare is cutting. “Not worth it? It’s for your safety .”

Julian stands, feeling jittery. “It won’t work. You’re going to spend thousands of dollars on a bodyguard—and then what? Do you really think Logan can’t take that bodyguard out if he wanted to? Logan’s not just some random thug. You don’t know what he’s capable of.”

Aaron’s gaze on him is steady. “We can’t just do nothing, Jules.”

“We’re not doing nothing.” Julian lets out a breath. “We told the cops. There’s still a chance we get a police escort. They’re actively looking for Logan. The building’s security has been improved, and they’re in touch with the authorities. That’s all we can do.”

His palms feel sweaty, so he wipes them on his pants. He realizes his hands are trembling, so he stuffs them into his pockets. 

Aside from how ridiculously impractical it is to hire a bodyguard, Julian trembles at the mere thought of it. Having someone constantly at his side, always following him? Having someone always watching? Someone with a gun, most likely. Someone larger and stronger than him.

It makes Julian’s skin crawl.

It just feels wrong.

“Okay,” Aaron says after a moment. His tone is neutral, but there’s no mistaking the unhappy tilt of his mouth. Yet, he stands and joins Julian there in the middle of the living room, pulling Julian’s hands free from his pockets and wrapping them in his own. “No bodyguard.”

Emily sighs deeply. She also doesn’t look very pleased by this. “Fine. I suppose you’re right. Hiring a bodyguard isn’t sustainable in the long run.” She pauses, looking thoughtful. “But if you don’t want a bodyguard, then you’re going to have to defend yourself.”

Julian nods slowly. That would make more sense. This way, at least, he won’t have to rely on someone he doesn’t even know or trust to keep him safe. “What were you thinking?”

“Self-defense classes. Firearms training.” 

Aaron nods. He looks at Julian, determined. “We can enroll together.”

Julian smiles tightly. “Okay.”

“That’s settled, then,” Emily says, checking her watch. “I need to get going, but I’ll call you later.”

Julian’s heart drops at the thought of Emily leaving, but he tries his best not to let it show on his face. He’s being selfish again. Emily has things to do, and she likely needs to rest. 

Emily walks up to him, wrapping him in a tight hug. “I love you. Don’t leave the apartment, and call me if you need anything.”

Julian pulls away, swallowing past the lump in his throat. “Okay.”

“Okay.” She lets out a breath. Turning to Aaron, she raises an eyebrow. “Since Julian doesn’t want a bodyguard, you’ll be his bodyguard for now.”

Julian lets out a weak chuckle at that, but Aaron just nods, looking serious. “I’ll look after him.”

“Good.” Emily collects her bag from the counter and throws a coat on. “Oh, and Julian?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m getting you a gun. The next time you see Logan? Shoot until he’s dead.”

He remembers what happened months ago—how he’d had a gun pointed right at Logan. How he’d pulled the trigger. How he’d missed.

How that mistake nearly cost Aaron his life.

Julian clenches his jaw.

“Okay,” he says, his voice firmer now. The next time he faces Logan, there won’t be any more mistakes. He'll make sure of it. 

He certainly won’t miss again.

Chapter Text

Next to the record shop runs a narrow river. There’s a bridge a few blocks down, but every now and then, people cut through here to reach other parts of the shopping complex. Most of the time, though, Julian has the spot to himself.

Today isn’t any different. The sun is high in the sky, so he walks across the grass until he reaches the fallen log he always sits on. It’s right beside a tall tree, so he’s shaded from the sun’s glare. Julian sits and stretches his legs in front of him, turning his head this way and that in the hopes that it would be enough to ease the soreness in his neck muscles. Because surprisingly, sitting behind a counter and manning the cash register for hours straight can actually be tiring.  

But he’s not complaining.

He looks to his left where he can see a portion of the parking lot. As expected, he finds a police cruiser parked facing Richard’s record shop, and even in the distance, he can make out Officer Joss through the windshield. He’s facing ahead, eyes watchful, but his phone is pressed to his ear, and Julian assumes he’s talking to someone.

It must get boring, after all, spending hours just sitting there. Julian has spoken to him once when he was first assigned to watch over Julian for a few hours during his shift, and that was two weeks ago—the exact same time Julian officially started working at Side A. 

Officer Amak was the one to introduce Officer Joss to him, since he was the one who made it possible for Julian to get a security detail at all. Aaron wouldn’t admit it to him, but Julian suspects Aaron didn’t stop calling and pestering Officer Amak until the poor guy finally found a way to make it happen.

Julian sighs, reaching into his little backpack and pulling out his book. It’s a gift from Aaron. Well, technically, he caught Julian snooping around his bookshelf and told him to take a pick, and that whatever books he chose were his. Julian picked this one because the title was interesting. 

The book has clearly been read a couple of times if the well-loved, curled page edges are anything to go by. It’s not that long, either. An average person could probably finish it in a few days, a week at the longest. But Julian’s slow. He remembers being interested in books when he was younger, but considering everything that happened, he was never able to pick up a book until now. He reads slowly, and he comes across words he doesn’t know the meaning of, and it makes him feel stupid. So much so that he nearly gave up on this book.

But he’s still trying to finish it. Because even if reading makes him feel incredibly dumb, it’s also a great distraction.  

He’s only a couple pages in when he hears footsteps behind him—quick, heavy, crunching dry leaves underfoot. He glances over his shoulder and spots Aaron right away, dressed in a hoodie and shorts. Julian smiles. He’s noticed that Aaron does that a lot—he makes a lot of noise as a way to announce himself, because Julian gets easily spooked when someone creeps up behind him, whether unintentionally or not.

It’s painfully sweet and thoughtful.

“Hey,” Aaron greets, beaming. He joins Julian, sitting beside him on the log. Julian catches a whiff of his cologne—sharp and clean—and it immediately makes something loosen inside Julian’s chest.

“Hi.” Julian closes his book and puts it away. He pointedly looks at the paper bag on Aaron’s lap. 

Aaron immediately digs in, pulling out styrofoams and plastic containers from the bag. “Remember the Thai place we drove past earlier this week? I finally gave in. Stopped by and got some pad thai and red curry. I could smell it as I drove here—I was so tempted to eat right away.”

Julian feels his stomach grumble. “I haven’t had Thai food in so long.”

Aaron hands him his food, winking. “You’re welcome, then.”

They eat in silence for a few minutes, and it’s a bit awkward eating like this, seated on a log. But Julian likes it this way. He already spends hours inside the record shop, and while he wouldn’t describe the place as stuffy or suffocating, it definitely starts feeling that way over time. 

“I bumped into Richard,” Aaron says. There’s sauce sticking to the corner of his mouth, so Julian takes a napkin and wipes it clean. “He says it seems like you’ve been doing really well. You’re a fast learner, and all that.”

Julian laughs lightly. “I mean. Not much to learn. Anyone can do it.”

“Still.” Aaron nudges him with his shoulder, just enough to make Julian sway a little. “It can be overwhelming, especially when there are many customers.”

Since Side A is in the Silver Plaza, the record shop gets a decent amount of traffic, especially during weekends. Usually, another cashier helps Julian out, but there are times when he has to handle them all himself. 

“It’s really not that bad.” Now empty, Julian puts the disposable containers back in the paper bag. “It’s nice. To be busy.”

It’s practically heaven, compared to what Julian has come to know. That’s why he never complains about anything. He’s incredibly lucky.

“Right. Well, if you ever get bored of this place, you know you can always work at Caffeinated.”

Here he goes again with this. Julian just laughs. Aaron brings it up whenever he can—it would be annoying if Aaron weren’t so earnest about it. And the worst part is that Julian can’t even fault him for wanting Julian there with him.

Even though it’s nearly been a month since the whole Logan incident at the beach, Aaron has only been progressively more… protective. Every day, he joins Julian for lunch, even if it means suffering through traffic on his way here. He hasn’t missed a single day since Julian started working. 

Officer Joss only sticks around during the first half of Julian’s shift, so the timing is kind of perfect. Aaron’s shift at the cafe ends around noon, and he makes his way to Julian right as Joss leaves. After lunch, Aaron sticks around for a few hours until Julian’s shift ends, and then they both go home. 

Somehow, Aaron finds a way to not be overbearing. If this were anyone else, Julian would feel uncomfortable. But it’s Aaron. And when has he ever made Julian feel anything but safe?

“I’ll keep that in mind,” is all Julian says. 

Aaron puts away his empty food containers, stretching his arms over his head with a dramatic groan. “God, the café was packed today.” He turns to Julian, a playful spark in his eyes. “This is my motivation to get through the day. Kind of like my reward. So it’s worth it.”

“What reward? Sitting out here in the sun eating cold takeout?”

“Yes.” Aaron smirks. “And basking in your presence, obviously.”

“Of course.”

“Don’t sound so skeptical. Who wouldn’t want this? Good food, stunning scenery, peace and quiet. Lunch with a beautiful boy.”

Julian rolls his eyes. “You’re doing this again?”

“Doing what?” Aaron feigns innocence. He leans forward, head cocked to the side. “Being charming? Can’t help it.”

Julian huffs a soft laugh, but he doesn’t look at him. Instead, he starts fiddling with the edge of the napkin in his lap. “You say stuff like that too easily.”

“Which stuff?”

“You know what I’m talking about.“ 

Aaron gives out compliments generously. Calls Julian “pretty” or “beautiful” and all kinds of adjectives. It’s nice, of course. It’s different from when other men called Julian those things. But it still leaves him unsettled—like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like all of this might be a joke he hasn’t caught onto yet.

He finally looks up. “You say all this sweet stuff like it doesn’t mean anything.”

Aaron’s smile falters, just slightly. “It means something to me. And they’re all true.” A pause. “But… I can stop. If it makes you uncomfortable. That’s never my intention.”

Julian looks away. He can’t see the police cruiser anymore, so Officer Joss must’ve already left. The spot where he was parked has been replaced immediately, though. Looks like a family car. There’s also noticeably more people around, meaning Ollie might need some help at the counter.

“I should get back to work,” Julian says, standing and dusting off his jeans. He grabs their paper bag of trash. “I’ll put this away.”

He can tell Aaron wants to say something more, so he quickly grabs his backpack and walks back to the building. He feels terrible doing it. Especially after Aaron has brought him lunch, like he does every day.

Still, he keeps walking until he’s back inside the record store. He tosses their trash into a nearby bin and gives Ollie a quiet nod as greeting. As expected, there is quite a lot of people, so Julian forces himself to focus on work and nothing else.

In the corner of his eye, he can see Aaron walking around the shop, checking out their “New Arrivals” section. Later, he’ll probably get bored and wait in the car or sit on one of the benches in front of the shop like he usually does. 

But for now, Julian looks up and finds Aaron with his back to him. His posture is tense—shoulders tight, arms crossed. It’s obvious their abruptly cut-off conversation earlier still has him bothered. 

Yet, when he catches Julian looking, Aaron smiles. It doesn’t reach his eyes, but he still smiles.

Julian really doesn’t deserve him. 

☾

When he’s not working, Julian goes to a self-defense class with Aaron. They usually go to the Saturday sessions, and it’s usually the session that has the most people. 

Today, Julian feels particularly nauseous.

They’ve been to a couple sessions so far, and Julian still hasn’t decided how he feels about them. Part of him appreciates the structure, the motion, the fact that it gives his body something to do. That if he ever needs to, he’ll know how to defend himself. But the rest of him—the part that still flinches at sharp sounds and avoids mirrors too long—feels like an imposter in a room full of confident, capable people who move like they’re not afraid of being watched.

This morning had already started off wrong. His sleep was shallow and fitful. The nausea hit him halfway through brushing his teeth. And now, standing in a lobby with his arms folded tight across his chest, he watches the elevator numbers blink slowly downward, dread building in his stomach like it’s counting down to something.

Aaron’s beside him, sipping iced coffee through a straw and scrolling on his phone like this is just another Saturday. He’s dressed casually—dark joggers, a navy hoodie, sneakers that look like they’ve been through a war. 

There’s something steadying about him, like he’s always tethered to the ground no matter how high Julian’s anxiety spikes.

“You okay?” Aaron asks after a moment, brows furrowing.

Julian nods before he speaks. “Yeah. Just… one of those days.”

Aaron puts his phone away. “We don’t have to go in if you’re not feeling it.”

Julian shakes his head, but the motion is sluggish. “I want to. I just…” He lets out a short breath. “I hate elevators.”

Julian really does dislike elevators. It’s cramped and suffocating and Julian has a lot of unpleasant memories inside them. Many Johns can’t wait until they reach their apartment or hotel room, so there’s been more than a few occasions of Julian being pursuaded into participating in semi-public sex in elevators. 

It’s all in the past, of course. He just wishes it was easier to forget.

In response, Aaron looks at the elevator doors like they’ve offended him personally. “We could take the stairs this time.”

“It’s on the sixth floor.”

“We could still take the stairs.”

Julian glances at him. Aaron’s grinning like it’s a dare, like this is just one more thing they can face together. Julian hates how well that works. With a sigh, he nods, and Aaron tosses his coffee in the nearest trash can before heading toward the side entrance.

The stairwell smells like rubber mats and sweat, and Julian’s legs start complaining around the third floor. By the fifth, he’s wishing he’d taken Aaron up on his offer to skip. But then Aaron slows his pace so they can match steps, and starts rambling about a new drink on the cafe’s menu, something absurd with lavender and oat milk and “notes of nostalgia,” whatever that means. He talks like he’s trying to distract Julian, and maybe he is, but it works. When they reach the sixth floor, Julian’s still out of breath—but less in his head.

They step into the waiting area just outside the gym studio. A few people are already there, stretching or chatting or watching videos on their phones. There’s a hum of noise—nothing loud, but enough to make Julian pull his hood up a little tighter. The air smells like floor cleaner and something faintly citrusy, maybe whatever spray the gym uses to make people forget how much sweat lingers on those mats.

Aaron signs them in at the desk. Julian hangs back, feeling like a ghost in his own limbs. His stomach’s still unsettled, but it’s no longer the kind that feels like he’s going to be sick. It’s more like a buzz under his skin, something coiled and anxious that doesn’t know where to go.

Aaron comes back, clapping a hand gently on his back. “They’ve got the usual instructor today. The one who doesn’t yell.”

Julian snorts. “Cool. That narrows it down.”

He flashes him a crooked grin. “Let me have my optimism, Jules.”

Their instructor—a lean woman with a buzz cut and sleeves of tattoos down both arms—steps out into the hall and calls everyone in. Aaron nudges Julian lightly with his elbow.

“You ready?”

Julian hesitates. 

He’s not. But he nods anyway.

They walk in together. The mats are cool under Julian’s feet as he steps onto them, barefoot like the rest of the class. The room is all white walls and mirrors, ceiling fans whirring quietly overhead, fluorescent lights casting an even, clinical glow. He always feels exposed in here—like the lights and mirrors are trying to catch him at every angle, no matter how small he tries to make himself.

Today’s lesson begins with warm-ups—some basic stretches, light cardio, and a couple of partner drills meant to ease them into the main event. Julian moves on autopilot, mimicking the instructor as best he can. His body knows the motions by now, even if his brain is somewhere far behind, dragging its heels.

Then the instructor claps her hands and says, “Today, we’re going to focus on ground defense. Specifically, how to get someone off you when they’re on top—pinning you down.”

Julian freezes for half a second. He doesn’t mean to. His body just locks up. He feels Aaron’s gaze on the side of his face, so he forces himself to act normal. He’s not sure if it works.

“Pair up,” the instructor says, stepping to the center of the room. “One person will play the role of the attacker. They’ll straddle their partner, hands pinning the wrists. The goal is for the person on the bottom to buck their hips, shift their weight, and escape the mount. You’ll switch roles afterward. Watch me first.”

Julian watches. She demonstrates with another student—clean, practiced movements. There’s nothing malicious in it. It’s a technical breakdown. But Julian’s lungs are suddenly too tight in his chest.

Aaron leans in close, his voice pitched low. “We can take a break. Or we can just skip it altogether.”

Julian shakes his head automatically, even though his ears are starting to ring. Absurdly, a part of him kind of wants to laugh. This is actually the perfect self-defense lesson for him. The number of times he’s been held down by a heavy body is astronomically high. He should be looking forward to this. Heck, this whole session is probably made just for him.

“No.” Julian swallows. “I want to learn this.”

“You’re sure?” Aaron steps in front of him, and the way he looks at Julian makes Julian feel like he can see every part of him. All his thoughts. Every ugly thing.

“Yes.” Julian takes Aaron by the shoulders and moves him around so he’s facing the front of the room again where the instructor is giving out more instructions. “You can be the attacker first.”

Aaron frowns. “We can do it the other way around if—”

“No,” Julian says, more firmly now. “Seriously. It’s okay.”

For a moment, Aaron doesn’t say anything. Then, he sighs. “Okay. Just tell me if you want to stop.”

Julian decides not to respond. He’s feeling a bit irritable. Aaron treats him like he’s made of glass, sometimes. Julian knows why he does it, but it always reminds Julian of how he wishes he were just normal. 

Everything would be so much easier that way.

Eventually, they’re instructed to get into position. Julian lies down on his back on the mat, and Aaron gently straddles him, placing his knees at Julian’s sides and pressing down lightly on his wrists. He doesn’t use real pressure—just enough to mimic the move. 

Julian looks up, meeting Aaron’s soft, worried gaze. Aaron always looks like he’s deep in thought these days. Julian can’t help but compare it to the care-free version of Aaron he met last year—the version of him who wasn’t burdened by the truth of Julian’s ugly past yet.

Sometimes, Julian wishes Aaron never knew the truth about him. 

How different would things be now, if that were the case?

“You good?” Aaron asks.

Julian nods. In the background, he can hear their instructor’s voice, but he finds it hard to focus. Instead, he finds himself staring at the dark lock of hair curling on Aaron’s temple, slightly damp with sweat. Aaron’s wearing a cross necklace, and since he’s hovering over Julian, the pendant hangs in the space between them, swaying every time Aaron moves.

Since he’s facing away from the light, Aaron’s eyes look darker than usual. He looks so serious—like he’s trying so hard not to put too much pressure on Julian’s wrist. Aaron’s eyes keep darting all over Julian’s face, most likely looking for signs that Julian doesn’t want to do this anymore.

But Julian isn’t really scared. It’s Aaron, after all. 

Still, the weight of him—even though it’s gentle, even though it’s Aaron—does something strange to Julian’s head. His body doesn’t flinch, but his thoughts kind of get jumbled a bit. His brain scrambles for a second, caught between the memory of something awful and the reality of something much more tender.

Aaron’s thighs bracket his hips, warm even through their clothes. His hands are light on Julian’s wrists, almost reverent. Like he’s holding something breakable. The contact shouldn’t feel this intimate—it’s a self-defense drill, for God’s sake—but it does.

And Aaron’s face. So close.

Julian’s heart trips in his chest.

“Okay,” Aaron murmurs again, watching him carefully. “Now try bucking your hips and shifting me to the side—like the instructor showed.”

Julian swallows hard. “Right.”

He tries to move, but it’s clumsy. Aaron shifts his weight helpfully, just enough to make it easier, but not so much that it’s fake. Julian plants his feet, lifts his hips, and tries to remember the instructions.

“You’re overthinking,” Aaron says gently. “Don’t think about doing it perfectly. You’ll do great.”

That sentence alone makes Julian feel like his brain short-circuits.

He exhales slowly and tries again. This time, Aaron leans into it, adding a little more resistance—but not too much. Their bodies slide together slightly from the motion, and Julian feels it like a jolt to his spine.

Too close.

He breathes in sharply and freezes under Aaron.

“You okay?” Aaron asks, voice lower now. He shifts his weight off Julian’s wrists immediately, not pulling away entirely but loosening the contact.

“Yeah,” Julian lies.

Aaron starts to shift off him, misreading it.

“No—” Julian grabs his forearm, holding him in place. “I mean… just give me a second.”

Aaron stills. He’s so warm. Julian can feel the heat of his thighs against his sides, the faint weight of his hips, the brush of Aaron’s breath against his cheek.

Julian turns his head slightly and finds Aaron looking down at him with something like worry—and something else. Something he can’t put his finger on. But it looks like he’s trying not to look too long, constantly shifting his gaze.

For some fucking reason, it makes Julian’s heart kick up in his throat.

It’s not like he hasn’t imagined this. Aaron, on top of him. But this—being held down like this, having Aaron’s full attention focused on him—is too much and not enough all at once.

He would never admit it, and he tries to pretend he’s never had those images in his head at all. But Julian gets dreams, sometimes. Of heat. Of Aaron’s breath against his neck. Of sweaty skin against skin. 

But it’s not like his nightmares—he doesn’t wake up shaking, rushing to the shower to scrub himself raw for an hour. 

When Julian wakes up from those dreams of Aaron, his pajamas feel uncomfortably tight and he’s drenched in sweat. He goes to the shower, stands beneath the cold water until he calms down. 

He doesn’t touch himself. It feels wrong to do that, least of all to Aaron. He just stands there in the cold, until the guilt creeps in and smothers whatever fantasies are attempting to take shape in his head.

Now, as he lies beneath Aaron, his mind uncontrollably going places it shouldn’t, Julian feels that same wave of guilt. He feels dirty and disgusting—but in a different way. He feels like… he can’t really explain it. 

Julian just doesn’t want to betray Aaron’s trust like this. Hundreds of men has thought of Julian in that way—he’d be the nastiest hypocrite in the world to do the same to Aaron.

“You can do it,” Aaron says. 

Letting out a quiet sigh, Julian shifts again, half-heartedly trying the move, but his strength falters halfway through. Aaron doesn’t budge.

Julian exhales shakily and drops his head back onto the mat, chest heaving slightly from the effort—or maybe the tension.

Aaron looks down at him. “Do you want to stop?”

Julian wants to say no. Wants to say yes. Wants to pull Aaron closer and tell him to kiss him already. Wants to pull his hair until they come out in bloody clumps for even thinking about it. 

Instead, he says, “You’re not even trying to hold me down. And I still can’t move you.”

Aaron smiles, faintly. “I’m a lot heavier than I look.”

Julian lets out a breath that’s half a laugh. “Apparently.”

There’s a beat of quiet between them. The noise of the class hums around them, but it feels distant—like they’re tucked into some kind of bubble. 

Julian knows he should sit up. Reset. Try again. But he doesn’t move.

Neither does Aaron.

“I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable,” Aaron says quietly.

“I know.”

“Are you sure? I… tell me if I’m too close.”

Julian meets his gaze. “You’re not too close.”

Aaron blinks, surprised. “No?”

Julian shakes his head slowly. Bites his lip. “I mean, I don’t mind.”

I like it, Julian wants to say. Come closer.

For a second, Julian thinks he must’ve said it out loud, because Aaron does lean down. His face gets much closer to Julian, so much so that Julian can now see the flecks of brown and gold in Aaron’s eyes. So much so that Julian feels Aaron’s warm, minty breath on his cheek.

Julian’s stomach flips. He doesn’t know how to describe it—just that he’s never felt this way in a long time. Probably in forever.

“Is this too close?” Aaron asks, and there’s a teasing lilt to his voice. 

Mouth feeling dry, Julian shakes his head ever so slightly. “Not at all.”

They lock eyes, then. Julian catches it when Aaron’s eyes dart down to Julian’s lips. When Aaron’s throat bobs as he swallows.

It looks like thousands of thoughts are running through Aaron’s head. It looks like he’s looking for something in Julian’s gaze, seeking some kind of answer. But the furrow in his eyebrows tell Julian that Aaron must feel somewhat confused, too. Conflicted. 

Aaron opens his mouth, and Julian knows he’s going to ask something that Julian won’t know the answer to. Thankfully, then the silence between them is shattered by the instructor’s voice.

“Okay! Anyone else need help?” There’s the sound of people getting up from the mats, of laughter and conversation. It’s like the whole world starts spinning again. “If everyone’s done, it’s time to switch.”

Aaron pulls back quickly, as though he’s been electrocuted. He dusts off his joggers, offering a hand to help him up. Julian takes it, and Aaron pulls him up gently, fingers lingering just a little too long around his wrist.

Julian forces himself to pay attention to the instructor this time around. But it’s nearly impossible to do so—especially when he feels Aaron’s gaze burning into him throughout the reminder of the session.

☾

Julian watches the washer spin, then hauls himself onto the unused dryer across from it, settling on the cool metal. He puts his (Aaron’s) headphones on, choosing a playlist Aaron curated just for him. Aaron titled the collection “Instant Serotonin” because the songs are all bright and poppy, and it’s exactly what Julian needs at 3 AM in the morning in a nearly empty laundromat.

Aside from him, there’s an older man with a white beard on the other side of the laundromat. He’s sitting on one of the metal benches, swaying forward and then jolting awake just as Julian’s convinced he’s about to finally tumble to the ground. The man is nice, though—he greeted Julian with a close-lipped smile when Julian entered about half an hour ago, and he hasn’t bothered Julian since.

Julian bops his head to the music in his headphones, zoning out as he stares at the washing machine. It spins and spins, and it’s weirdly hypnotic. There’s something weirdly calming about this laundromat, despite its yellowish lighting and old equipment. It’s all just so… mundane. And Julian likes that.

He hears a loud car horn outside, the sound cutting through the music. He sees headlights flashing in the apartment building’s parking lot, and then it all goes dark again. Once everything goes quiet, Julian lets out a shaky breath.

Julian distracts himself by looking through the playlist. It’s a bunch of downloaded MP3 files since Aaron never got around to making a Spotify account or something. Julian thinks manually downloading the songs is much more time-consuming, but Aaron has been doing it since he was a teen, so it’s clearly a hard habit to break.

As he looks through the titles, he finds an odd one out. It’s just a date with no title. Curiously, Julian clicks it. 

For a few seconds, all Julian hears is static, the faint crackle of a phone shifting, and then a soft clearing of the throat. His eyes widen when a voice starts to sing—Aaron’s voice.

It sounds like he’s also strumming a guitar, and at first, he’s mumbling and humming rather than actually saying words. He restarts a few times until he gets into a proper rhythm. Minutes in and now there are actual lyrics.

His voice is beautiful. 

It’s a love song, Julian realizes belatedly. Aaron’s voice is soft and smooth, talking about someone’s eyes. Someone’s beautiful smile. Someone’s laughter—a sound he wants to wake up to and fall asleep to.

Aaron is baring his heart, making a love declaration. Julian thinks he sounds hypnotizing, but there’s also a hint of sadness to the song—a hint of longing. 

Julian wants to listen to it til the end, but he’s convinced Aaron had accidentally put this voice recording into his playlist by accident when he transferred the songs to Julian’s phone. That he shouldn’t be listening to this at all. So, he ignores his pounding chest and stops the recording.

He sits there for a while. The washer has stopped spinning already, but Julian stays seated. He bites his lip, staring at the title of the recording—or rather, the date.

February 10th. 

Julian’s birthday.

He bites his nail. Did Aaron really put that song in there for Julian to listen to? It’s a beautiful song. It’s undeniably a love song. And Julian isn’t stupid enough not to recognize what it truly is.

Aaron wrote a song for him. For Julian.

Julian hops off the dryer, quickly transferring his washed clothes from the washer to the dryer. He stands and waits until the cycle finishes, his mind oddly blank. Once his clothes are dry, he transfers them to his basket and leaves them beside the counter, telling the bored teen who works there that he’ll pick it up later.

Sunrise is near, so it’s not as dark outside anymore. But it’s still early enough that the apartment building’s ground floor is empty—not a single soul in sight. 

He walks around the block, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket. After a moment of hesitation, he ends up playing Aaron’s song again in his headphones. He walks and walks and listens to the lyrics. He walks again, until the sun has already risen and he’s not the only person up and about anymore.

The song is… it’s sweet. It’s beautiful. It’s quintessentially Aaron. Somehow, everything about it is gentle and honest and raw.

And somehow, miraculously, it’s all for Julian.

He doesn’t know what to make of it. Doesn’t know how to react. But his heart beats wildly in his chest, palms growing sweaty.

Julian eventually decides he’s been aimlessly walking for too long now, and heads back to the apartment. But on his way back, he sees a bakery and decides to buy some breakfast.

By the time he’s in their apartment building, it’s already bright outside. He collects his basket from the laundromat and heads for the stairs. As he takes a sharp turn down the hall, he slams into someone, hard enough that he practically gets thrown backward, his newly-washed clothes scattering all over the floor.

“Shit,” a voice says.

“Sorry,” Julian says automatically, pushing himself into a sitting position. “I didn’t see you. Sorry.”

“Julian?” 

He blinks, and it’s Aaron standing before him. He looks like just woke up, bedhead and pajamas and all. But the frantic look in his eyes instantly puts Julian on high alert.

“Did something happen?” Julian says, letting Aaron help him to his feet. “Are you okay?”

“Am I okay?” Aaron echoes, incredulous. “Are you?”

Julian blinks.

“I woke up and couldn’t find you anywhere,” Aaron says, sounding both hysterical but relieved at the same time. “I called and you weren’t answering. I was about to fucking call the cops, Jules!”

He steps back, surprised by Aaron’s outburst. “I—I’m sorry. My phone must’ve been on silent or something.”

“Why the hell are you going out by yourself?”

Julian frowns, crossing his arms over his chest. “I literally just came down to do my laundry—”

“You couldn’t tell me that? You should’ve woken me up. I would’ve come with you.” Aaron’s not yelling, but his voice is firm. Furious. He and Julian have bickered and argued mildly in the past, but Aaron never spoke to him like this.

“I’m sorry, okay? I already told you,” Julian says, ignoring the way his voice wavers, “I just wanted to do my fucking laundry.”

“You know it’s not safe. What if that psycho is waiting around? That fucker could be anywhere. Fuck knows what’s taking the stupid cops so long to arrest him.” Aaron says this all mad, jaw clenched. His movement is snappy and quick as he picks up Julian’s clothes from the floor, tossing them back into Julian’s basket. “Fucking laundry. Can’t it wait? You’d really put yourself at risk like that—”

“I already said I’m sorry,” Julian says through gritted teeth.

“Fucking hell. Guess that fixes everything, then.” Aaron shakes his head. He’s still not yelling, but his tone is scathing. 

Julian feels his throat tighten. 

They’re quiet for a few seconds. Aaron takes a deep breath, hands on his hips, still clearly agitated as he looks at anything but Julian. He drags a hand down his face.

“You scared me,” Aaron says quietly. “I thought… I was just terrified something had happened.”

Julian picks up the paper bag of pastries he bought earlier. The coffees he got are spilled on the ground. Wasted.

“I’m sorry.” Julian looks down. Seems he can’t do anything right. He couldn’t sleep last night, so he just decided to do something productive. If he knew Aaron was going to go batshit crazy over him doing his laundry, then he’d never had done it. 

“Hey,” Aaron says, and this time, his voice is noticeably softer. His touch is gentle, too, when he takes Julian by his shoulders. “I’m sorry for freaking out. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, like, scold you. That was a dick move. I’m sorry.”

Julian doesn’t say anything. Aaron sighs, and then he quietly leads Julian upstairs. They’re quiet the whole way up. 

Inside the apartment, Julian places their breakfast on the dining table. Aaron, being the one who carried Julian’s laundry basket for him, goes into Julian’s room. On his way to the bathroom, Julian finds Aaron sitting on his bed, carefully folding Julian’s clothes one by one.

Julian decides to take a shower. He hasn’t slept at all, and it’s evident in his eyebags. He looks pale and sickly. Tearing his eyes away from his reflection, Julian shakes his head, shame crawling up his chest.

There’s no fucking way Aaron wrote that song for him. There’s no way it’s for Julian. His birthday being the title is nothing but a cruel coincidence. 

He forces himself to look in the mirror again, and he laughs. He fucking laughs right at his own face. He’s fucking delusional. Aaron is kind and sweet because that’s how he is as a person. That’s how he was raised. It has nothing to do with Julian. 

Julian with all his fucking baggage. He’s a whore, for fuck’s sake. Even Aaron wouldn’t stoop that low. 

In the song, Aaron sang about a beautiful boy—someone whose laugh was unforgettable, someone whose smile rivaled the sun. He looks at himself in the mirror—at his thin, sunken face, the bruised skin under his eyes, the soulless look in his eyes. 

This is someone who stresses Aaron out—someone Aaron has to worry about constantly, has to look out for. Someone who had robbed Aaron of his usual peace, leaving him with only unease. Someone who can’t do things right, who can’t be normal. Someone Aaron always has to walk on eggshells around.

Julian stares at himself in the mirror, forcing himself to hold eye contact despite the disgust churning inside him. 

This is not the face of someone who can be loved.

He has always known this. Even before Aaron knew what Julian truly was, he knew this. Just because Julian isn’t actively pleasuring men and letting them fuck him for money, doesn’t mean he’s suddenly someone better. Doesn’t mean he’s any different than before.

Aaron was attracted to him before, yes, but that was because he didn’t know the truth yet. But now that Aaron knows nearly everything about him? Every disgusting detail? 

Even the kindest, purest soul like Aaron will want nothing to do with someone like Julian.

Julian sniffles. He looks away, running a hand down his face. He lets himself cry. Muffles the sound with his hand, turns on the shower so Aaron can’t hear him from outside.  

He stands under the hot water, scrubs repeatedly. He waits to feel cleaner. But as always, it doesn’t work. 

It never does.

Chapter Text

“Aaron, my darling, it’s been a while!” She beams as she comes to stand before their booth, wiping her hands on her apron. “Oh! And who’s this?”

Aaron throws an arm over Julian’s shoulders. “Vanessa, this is Julian.” Julian smiles, feeling slightly awkward. “And Jules, this is Vanessa. Best cook in the state. Possibly the world.”

"Oh, stop,” she says, swatting the air, but she’s grinning wide, her eyes nearly disappearing with it. Her salt-and-pepper hair is twisted up into a loose bun that matches the soft gray of her apron. “It’s lovely to meet you, Julian. Bit strange seeing Aaron with someone new. Usually it’s those three little crickets buzzing around him.”

“Oh, they’re on their way,” Aaron tells her. “I apologize in advance for the chaos that’s bound to happen.”

Vanessa laughs. “As noisy as you kids are, I do love having you here. Would you two like to order ahead?”

Aaron turns to Julian, raising his eyebrows in question. Julian clears his throat. “Oh, um. I would like a coffee while we wait, please. Thank you.”

“Oh, aren’t you a sweetheart?” Vanessa practically coos. Julian feels his cheeks heat up with embarrassment. “Of course, I’ll bring you our special brew. And you, Aaron?”

“Coffee as well.” 

Vanessa pushes away from their booth. “Alright. Give me a few minutes.”

“Thank you, Vanessa. Love you!”

She walks off, chuckling to herself as she heads toward the counter. Their booth is tucked deep into the diner, so she weaves past several tables along the way. The place is surprisingly busy—borderline crowded, especially for five in the morning.

But the diner is spacious, packed with red booths in every corner, with large windows letting in generous light even though the sun hasn’t fully risen yet. When they first entered, Julian smelled coffee and eggs and bacon, and he immediately felt at ease. Add Vanessa’s welcoming personality, and Julian kind of understands why Aaron spoke so highly of the place.

They’re seated right beside a huge window, so Julian peeks outside, scanning the parking lot for Casey and the others. When he doesn’t find them, he turns back to Aaron.  

“Do you think they’ll be late?”

Aaron’s arm is still thrown over Julian’s shoulder, and they’re pressed closely from shoulder to thigh. A part of Julian wants to pull away, not wanting to make Aaron feel uncomfortable, but… Well. Aaron is very warm. That’s reason enough to stay close.  

“They’re always late,” Aaron says with a slight eye roll. “Steven struggles to wake up in the morning, and I know we all do, but he’s like the most extreme case of it. Casey takes too long to pack her stuff. Meanwhile, Tommy has probably been ready to go two nights ago.”

Julian laughs. He feels Aaron watching him, a soft smile playing on his lips. 

“That honestly sounds—” Julian’s cut off by his phone ringing. He checks the caller ID. “It’s Em. Sorry. Do you mind… ?”

“Oh, of course not. Go ahead.” Aaron removes his arm from around Julian’s shoulders, and Julian tries not to react too much to it even though he’s cursing Emily in his head right now for being the reason Aaron pulled away. Oh well.

Instead, he just sighs and answers the call. “Hi. You’re up early.”

“Hey, you guys on the road already?”

“No.” Julian looks out the window again. Still no sign of a spray-painted van. “We’re waiting for Casey, Tommy, and Steven. We’re gonna have breakfast first, then we’re off.”

“Alright.” There’s shuffling on the other line; Julian imagines she’s getting out of bed, rustling the sheets. “Just thought I’d check in.”

Julian hums. “You have work today?”

A sigh. “Unfortunately. But you know how it is.”

“Raymond has work, too?” 

Last week, Emily excitedly told Julian that Raymond finally found a job in the city. Julian hopes it all works out—he knows Emily is struggling financially. He has even tried giving her a portion of his weekly salary, but she firmly declined. She was even kind of mad about it. 

But just to be sure, Julian regularly puts aside a small part of his measly salary just for Emily in case she ever needs it. It’s not even out of guilt because she’s spent a lot of money on him these past few months—it’s just that he’s her brother and he wants to be able to offer help if it ever comes to it. 

“Yes, he also has a Saturday shift.” There’s a pause, and then, “You have your gun?”

Julian groans. “Yes, I already told you—”

“I know you took, like, a single firearms training session, but you should really continue practicing that.”

“I know.”

“Stay close to Aaron and the others, okay? No wandering about. And always have your phone on you.”

Julian sighs. He looks down, picking at the tattered knee of his jeans. “Yes, yes. Don’t worry.”

“You know I can’t help but worry.” There’s a tinge of frustration to her words. “I’d rather you be annoyed at my nagging than for something bad to happen.”

He blinks rapidly, throat tightening. “Nothing’s going to happen. We’re just… we’re just going to have fun. Just a weekend. I deserve that, don’t I? After everything?”

It’s reminiscent of the conversation they had a couple of days ago when Julian first brought up their weekend trip. As expected, Emily was against it. But Julian stood his ground, made it clear that he wasn’t asking Emily for permission. He was simply letting her know that he would go.

Obviously, Emily wasn’t happy about it, even until now. But she now knows there’s nothing she can really do. So she copes by calling him several times a day, reminding him to take care and be vigilant and whatnot. Julian finds it annoying. Julian is eternally grateful. Two things can be true at once.

“Of course you do.” Her voice softens. “Just—take care, alright? I wish I could’ve come with you. But as you know, work has been killing me lately.”

“It’s alright. We can always do stuff next time. Maybe with Rose, even?” 

Vanessa returns with a pot of steaming black coffee and two mugs. Aaron thanks her, and then he pours some into their mugs. He then starts adding some milk and sugar to his.

“That’s the plan,” Emily says, wistful. 

“They’re here,” Aaron tells him in a whisper, pointing out the window. Julian looks out, and sure enough, he spots Casey, Tommy, and Steven walking across the parking lot toward the diner.

“Hey, uh. I gotta go,” Julian says into the phone. “I’ll keep you updated.”

“Alright. Take care.”

“You too. Bye.”

Julian slips his phone back into his pocket just as the bell above the diner door jingles. A beat later, Steven’s voice carries through the place, loud—as always. “Vanessa! You’re looking extra sexy today!”

From where they’re seated, Julian can see as Steven pulls Vanessa into a hug, the old lady only reaching up to Steven’s shoulder. Vanessa scrunches up her face as though in annoyance, but Julian can see the spark of fondness in her eyes.

Casey and Tommy follow, greeting Vanessa and exchanging some words that Julian can’t exactly hear. Eventually, though, Vanessa points toward where he and Aaron are seated, and three heads snap toward their direction.

“Oh, God,” Aaron grumbles, making Julian look at him in amusement.

Steven leads the charge, as always, and practically runs over to where they’re seated. “You guys are early!” 

He and Aaron do that weird (but oddly endearing) handshake thing they’ve been doing lately, and then Steven leans over to give Julian’s shoulder a quick, friendly squeeze.

At that point, Casey and Tommy had already taken their spots on the other side of the booth, across from Julian and Aaron. They exchange warm greetings, and then Steven basically plops on top of Tommy, who’s sitting at the edge of the booth. Casey and Tommy scooch to the side so Steven can sit.

“I’ve already ordered for everyone,” Casey says. She got a haircut—her shoulder-length waves have been shorn into a pixie cut, and Julian thinks it suits her incredibly well.

“I like your hair,” Julian says after a moment of hesitation, tacking on a smile.

"Thank you so much!" Her whole face lights up as she leans over the table, giving a warm tap to Julian's hand where it rests. “I’ve been thinking about getting it cut this short for months, I’m not even kidding. I‘ve downloaded like a thousand inspo pics on Pinterest. Worth it, though!”

“Yes it was,” Tommy says, smiling and pressing a kiss to her temple. 

“And me?” Steven makes a show of fluffing up his red hair. It’s shorter than usual, but Julian doesn’t think he’s done anything more than a regular trim. 

“It looks good,” Julian says.

“You’re too nice,” Aaron tells Julian with a smile. He turns back to Steven, looking him up and down. “Looks exactly the same as the haircut you’ve had since seventh grade.”

“Are you blind?” Steven looks affronted. “I got highlights! See?” He tips his head down so they can see the crown of his head, parting the strands and running his fingers through them. There are slightly lighter, blonde streaks mixed in with his red hair, and now that Julian can actually see it, he thinks it really does look nice.

“Super,” Tommy says in the most deadpan voice Julian has ever heard in his life. The way he says it is so funny that Julian accidentally lets out a laugh-snort. He tries to play it off as a cough toward the end, but they all clearly heard him.

“Not you, too!” Steven says, pointing at Julian with wide eyes. “Damn. I thought you were the nice one of the group.”

Julian knows he’s just joking around, so he laughs a bit. Steven tries to show off his new highlights again, but eventually stops when Aaron tells him to put his “dry ass scalp” away. 

Not long after, Veronica finally arrives with their food.

“Bacon, eggs, waffles, and pancakes,” Casey proudly declares as Vanessa steps away to grab the rest of their food. “Has Aaron caught you up on the lore yet, Julian?”

“Lore?”

“It’s stupid,” Aaron says, “but we basically have a little tradition thing. Remember how I told you we’d go on little trips often? We always ate breakfast here first before we started any road trip. Been doing it since… I don’t even know. Since maybe our third or fourth road trip in high school?”

“It’s good luck,” Steven says, counting it off his finger, “great food, superior coffee, and Vanessa will kick my ass if she catches wind that we’ve eaten at another diner. She has no tolerance for cheaters.”

“Damn right I don’t.” Vanessa returns, landing a firm slap to Steven’s back. She places the rest of their plates on the table, then puts her hands on her hips. “So, where are you little gremlins going this time? And why are you dragging poor Julian with you?”

Tommy leans forward. He’s smiling in a way Julian has never seen before. “We’re playing at a huge music festival. The biggest crowd for us.”

Vanessa raises her eyebrows, clearly impressed. “Oh? How many people?”

“Twenty fucking thousand!” Steven says, clearly fired up, whooping and everything. “Can you believe that? That’s huge! Our hugest crowd ever!”

“That’s amazing! Oh, you deserve it. You’ve been working on that little band of yours since you all were so young.”

“We’ve been at it for just a few years,” Steven says mildly. “You’re making us feel old.”

“Twenty thousand? Lord, that’s a lot of people,” she carries on like Steven hasn’t spoken. “Give me some pictures, will you?”

“I’ll print some out for you,” Tommy says.

Aaron yawns, stretching his arm out, and then he settles it across the back of the seat where Julian is. Instantly, Julian is distracted by the proximity. 

The rest of the table is still geeking out about the upcoming gig (rightfully so), and all Julian can focus on is the warmth emanating from Aaron beside him. 

“If you’d told our younger selves we’d be playing at freaking Echo Valley Fest, we’d shit ourselves laughing,” Aaron says, and Julian realizes the words are said low enough that they’re only meant for Julian. 

Julian smiles. “I don’t doubt it.”

Aaron could hardly believe it at first. Julian remembers his reaction when he got a call from Tommy a few days ago. Apparently, one of the artists for the music festival backed out at the last minute, and the organizers were looking for a replacement, fast. Despite his quiet disposition, Tommy was apparently a phenomenal networker, so somehow, Tommy called someone, who called someone, and so on, until they gave Silent Riot the slot.

They were eating breakfast that morning—just a few days after the whole laundry argument. Whatever awkwardness had lingered between them vanished the second Aaron shot up from his seat, phone pressed to his ear, eyes wide and disbelieving as he paced and babbled into the line. Julian just sat there, watching his cereal go soggy, waiting for Aaron to finally hang up and spill whatever incredible news had him acting like that.

As it was, Silent Riot was apparently set to play at Echo Valley Fest. One of the biggest regional festivals in the state. Aaron was so happy Julian could’ve sworn he saw him shed a tear or two.

“I think,” Julian says, adding sugar and stirring his coffee with a spoon, “you guys are going to kill it. Now that I think about it, your original songs are just meant to be played at a huge festival. It’s just the type of music that will get people singing along and jumping, you know?”

Aaron smiles, his eyes getting this faraway look in them as though he’s imagining it. “Fuck. I really can’t believe it. I’m the happiest man on earth right now.”

And that’s why Julian just couldn’t miss it for the world. He’s not dumb—even if Emily isn’t here to remind him of how unsafe it is, Julian knows. Traveling for hours on end, going to an extremely populated event like a popular music festival? Emily called him suicidal for even considering it. 

Maybe he is. 

But fuck, it’s not like he’s going to be careless. Even Casey, Tommy, and Steven are aware that there’s a dangerous man after Julian. They’re not going into this blindly. 

Aaron was admittedly hesitant at first, worried for Julian’s safety. But when Julian told him he really wanted to be there for the band’s huge milestone, and that he’d feel incredibly left out if they went without him, Aaron was quick to win over.

Plus, Julian has his gun, for fuck’s sake. He has Aaron. Everything’s going to be fine.

Vanessa eventually goes back to the kitchen to serve other customers, and Julian starts digging into his breakfast. He’s a slow eater and he doesn’t want to cause any delays. 

As they eat, Casey starts reading out a bunch of items, making sure everything’s been packed. She starts reading out their instruments and equipment, and the mention of drumsticks and guitar picks reminds Julian of something.

Julian wipes his mouth with a tissue paper, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small plastic pouch. He keeps it on his lap under the table at first, hesitating. When he finally musters the guts, he clears his throat. “Um, guys.”

All four stop what they’re doing, watching him expectantly. It makes Julian’s face heat up. He looks down, then he quickly puts the plastic pouch on the table. “I got you guys something.”

Aaron blinks at him. Then a blinding smile takes over his face. “You got us a gift?

“Yeah.” Julian clears his throat. “Sort of like to congratulate you guys for getting the gig. It’s nothing huge, though—”

“Let me see!” Casey opens the pouch and spills the contents on the tabletop. She grabs one and gasps. “Oh my god!”

“There are names in the back,” Julian says hesitantly. “I’m sorry it’s not anything… better, or more expensive and stuff. I mean. You don’t have to wear it.”

Julian’s starting to regret this. Now that he’s revealed his gifts, in the light of the day, they look so fucking stupid. They’re guitar pick necklaces, and he thought it was a really good idea. During slow hours at his shift at Side A, he’d sketch away in his little notebook. He worked on plenty of designs, and eventually, he landed on what he considered was the best one. 

It’s meant to be a logo for Silent Riot—or at least, that was the plan. He’d played around with the band’s initials, sketching a jagged, stylized “S” and “R” that looked like they’d been carved out of concrete or torn from a vintage punk zine. The design is rough, bold, unapologetically loud—just like their sound. Red and black dominate the palette, splashed across the surface like war paint.

He sent a scanned version of it to a seller he found online who did customized necklaces, and thankfully, they did guitar pick necklaces as well. He paid for it and received the necklaces only a few days later.

It’s one of the first things he spent his first salary on. He thought they looked cool, but right now, he’s not so sure anymore.  

“Are you kidding me?” Steven says, voice high-pitched. He’s holding his necklace almost delicately, eyes wide. “This is so fucking cool, man! The design? The colors? Holy shit. You made this?”

Julian nods. “I know it’s a bit messy—”

“Messy?! Where? You’re mad talented, dude. This is insane.”

“I love it.” Tommy doesn’t even say anything else—he just wears the necklace with a satisfied smirk. 

“This is so going on my Instagram,” Casey says, pulling out her phone and trying to snap pictures of the necklace. “So cute. I love you and your brilliant mind.”

He lets out a quiet breath. They’ve always been kind to him—so much so that Julian wonders why he ever thought they’d be anything but nice, let alone about a gift.

Julian turns to Aaron and finds him already looking. His eyes are bright—they always are—but the intensity with which he’s looking at Julian makes his mouth dry, makes him feel like he should look away.

But he doesn’t.

“When did you have the time to do all this?” Aaron asks, voice soft and low.

He waves him off. “I had free time during my shifts. It was nothing, really.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“I know.” Julian rolls his eyes. “I wanted to, okay? Now, do you like it, or should I toss it in the garbage and redo it?”

Aaron scoffs, genuinely offended. “This isn’t going anywhere near the garbage can.” He quickly puts the necklace on, smiling softly. “I really can’t believe you’re real.”

“Whatever that means,” Julian mumbles, looking away. But his cheeks feel hot and his stomach is doing a couple of somersaults. It’s pathetic. At the same time, he’s just very happy. Is that really pathetic?

“It means you’re an angel,” Aaron tells him. He shuffles closer, closer still, somehow. “And I’m so lucky to have the privilege of receiving gifts from you at all.”

“Alright, now you’re doing too much.” Julian sniffs. Looks out the window and notices that the sun is rising. “A simple thank you would’ve been enough.”

“Oh, I haven’t thanked you yet.” For some fucking reason, the timber of Aaron’s voice goes dangerously low at that. Or perhaps Julian’s just imagining it. He doesn’t know, he might be certifiably insane.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, you’ll know when I thank you. Believe me.”

Again, whatever the hell that means. 

“Silent Riot guitar pick necklace. Handmade by Julian Harper, expert illustrator with a killer smile,” Steven says, talking with a weird deep voice, like a radio announcer or something. “Starting bid is $50!”  

Tommy turns to him. “What are you even doing?”

“This is what the future will look like. Silent Riot is a legendary band all over the world, and people will be fighting tooth and nail for stuff like this! We’d all be dead by then, but our stuff, our songs, people will still go crazy over them. They’ll be paying freakin’ diamonds for them. Oh, I can just imagine it.”

Casey tilts her head. “This is the future, and the starting bid is $50? Might as well give it away for free. Inflation, anyone?”

“Okay, smartass, the idea just popped into my head. I didn’t have time to consider inflation of all fucking things.” 

“And how would they get their hands on this?” Aaron chimes in, wrapping the guitar pick in his hand. “I’m getting buried with this. No way anyone’s going to get it after my death unless they dig up my grave.”

“Again, I was just doing a little improv thing—”

“Would there even be space for graves by then?” Tommy says. “I read an article about how in a few decades we’d run out of cemetery space and humanity would find another way to deal with dead bodies. Because we’ll run out of land.”

“Cremation, then?” Casey scratches her temple. “Right?”

“The green solution would be to bury everyone directly into the ground and plant a tree on top of them as markers,” Aaron says. “I want to be a pine tree.”

Casey sips her coffee. “Dibs on the oak tree.” 

“Then I’m going oak as well,” says Tommy.

Steven sighs deeply. Rubs his eye. “Fuck. I was gonna say oak tree.”

Julian watches them, a small smile tugging at his lips. He still isn’t sure where he fits in this group—doesn’t want to wedge himself into a space that isn’t his. But the truth is, they’ve never made him feel like an outsider. They’ve gone out of their way to include him, even when they didn’t have to.

So why does it still feel like he’s intruding?

He picks at the edge of his napkin and lets his knee rest against Aaron’s under the booth. It’s not a big gesture, but Aaron shifts ever so slightly closer, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Julian glances out the diner window at the bright morning stretching wide. And somehow, even with everything still unsettled—Logan’s shadow constantly in the background, his own fear curling tight in his ribs, dormant, but there—Julian feels somewhat… settled.

It makes him breathe so much easier.

“Alright, future legends,” Casey says, pushing her plate away. “You ready to go be famous?”

“Not until someone tells Steven he’s got syrup on his face,” Tommy mutters.

Steven gasps. “Where?”

Aaron barks out a laugh beside him. Julian relaxes against his side, his chest feeling incredibly light.

☾

Vanessa sends them off with a whole paper bag of burgers and chips and bottled drinks, and she practically slaps Steven’s hand when he tries to pay for them.  

“Just get me them pictures,” she says, and then she’s herding them off to the parking lot. 

Since they’ve got a bunch of instruments and equipment in the van, Aaron decided to bring his car as well. Casey, Tommy, and Steven will all be driving together, while Aaron and Julian will be taking the car.

“See you later, babes,” Casey mumbles as she walks past them, closely followed by Tommy. The couple hops into the van, while Aaron and Julian continue walking to the car, which is parked a bit farther away. 

They make it to Aaron’s car, and they’re about to go in when Steven calls for them. Julian turns and finds him running, hugging a paper bag to his chest. 

“You guys want some of Vanessa’s snacks? There’s a bunch.” Steven places the paper bag on the hood of the car, rummaging through it. 

As Julian takes his pick, Aaron curses from behind them. He has his phone out. “Vanessa texted. I left my wallet inside.”

“Dude.” Steven looks at Julian like, can you believe this guy? 

“I’ll be really quick,” Aaron says, his smile a bit embarrassed. He turns to Steven. “Stay with Jules for a bit. Be right back.”

With that, he starts jogging away. Julian watches Aaron disappear through the diner’s glass door, his heart doing that dumb little thing it always does when Aaron isn’t within arm’s reach.

Steven leans his hip against the car. He peeks inside the paper bag, fishing out a bag of chips and tossing it toward Julian without warning. Julian fumbles but manages to catch it against his chest.

“Good catch, man,” Steven says around a grin. “You sure you don't secretly play wide receiver?"

Julian laughs under his breath. "Yeah. I'll call the NFL after this."

Steven chuckles, grabbing a sandwich for himself and taking a giant bite. Julian grabs some more snacks for Aaron. They lapse into a comfortable quiet for a few moments, the muffled sounds of traffic and the crinkle of paper filling the air.

Then Steven says, "I’m really glad you’re coming with us."

Julian blinks, caught off guard. "Oh, um. I’m happy you guys are okay with me coming."

Steven scoffs. “Why wouldn’t we be? Aside from the fact that you’re a great guy to be around, Aaron's way less of a grump when you're with him.”

"Oh." Julian looks down at the sandwich in his hands, feeling his cheeks warm up despite the cool air. It’s weird, because most of the time, he thinks he makes Aaron even more miserable. He chews on his bottom lip, hesitating for a beat before speaking again. “That’s actually nice to hear. I’m quite… well, you know I have like, a ton of issues. I worry that I’m sometimes too much for him.”

"You’re doing fine, dude. Trust me." Steven crumples his wrapper and lobs it into the bag with perfect aim. "Besides, none of us are exactly low-maintenance. Aaron's been picking up after me for years. You’re a breath of fresh air compared to the crap I pull."

Julian smiles despite himself. "Like what?"

Steven grins wickedly. "You don't wanna know."

Julian laughs and shakes his head. There's something easy about Steven, something that makes him want to keep talking. So he does.

"You still doing IT stuff?" Julian asks, nudging the conversation somewhere safer.

Steven huffs a dramatic sigh. "Unfortunately, yeah. My life's an endless parade of broken printers and people clicking on phishing emails."

Julian snorts. "I guess it can get tiring after a while."

Steven shrugs like it doesn't matter. "I get by. Pays for my bad Amazon habits and the occasional dumb guitar I don't need."

"Aaron mentioned something about you buying a new guitar for the festival. That true?"

Steven practically lights up. "Dude, yeah I did! I've been messing around with a new pedal setup, too. Gonna melt some faces."

Julian raises an eyebrow. "Is that a technical term?"

"Very technical," Steven says solemnly. "You wouldn’t understand. Yet."

"Yet?"

Steven straightens up, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet like he just had a brilliant idea. "I should teach you. Guitar."

He laughs. "What?"

"You heard me." Steven is already miming strumming a guitar. "C’mon, it'd be sick. Start you off easy. Some chords. Some dumb riffs."

"I’d be terrible," Julian says.

Steven points at him. "That’s exactly the right attitude. First you suck, then you suck a little less, and then boom—you’re stealing my solos."

"You might have a bit too much faith in me," Julian says with amusement. He glances back toward the diner, watching for Aaron. As if on cue, Aaron comes jogging back, waving his wallet triumphantly overhead.

Steven leans closer and mutters out of the side of his mouth, "Well. There goes your private guitar lessons. Loverboy’s back."

Julian snorts, shoving him lightly in the side.

Aaron reaches them, slightly out of breath, and immediately squints suspiciously at Steven. "What were you two scheming?"

"Nothing," Steven says with a grin that's pure innocence and lies.

Julian just shakes his head, slipping into the passenger seat as Steven saunters back toward the van, whistling.

Aaron watches him go, then looks at Julian. "What’d he rope you into?"

Julian smiles faintly. "You’ll find out."

Aaron narrows his eyes but lets it go.

Eventually, they start driving. By the time the sun is high in the sky, they’re already making good progress, speeding down the highway. Aaron asks Julian to be on “DJ duty,” so Julian picks what songs to play on Aaron’s phone. He chooses mostly fun pop songs, and some punk and rock (with the occasional metal rock) that he knows Aaron loves.

Aaron’s grip on the steering wheel is relaxed, his smile easy and unguarded. He sings along to a track Julian picked, sunlight streaming through the window, leaving his skin looking golden. The window’s cracked open just enough for the breeze to slip in, tousling his dark hair as they drive.

Julian watches, hypnotized.

“Did Vanessa give us any chips?” Aaron asks after a while. 

Julian reaches for the snacks he placed in the backseat. “Lays. You want some?”

“Yes, please.”

Julian opens the bag of chips. He goes to hand it over to Aaron, but then he finds Aaron merely opening his mouth while his eyes stay glued to the road.

“Oh,” Julian says, laughing a bit. “Alright. Open up, you big baby.”

“Yessir,” Aaron says with a teasing wink, opening his mouth more and turning his head toward Julian a bit.

Julian feeds him the chips, ignoring the heat he feels coloring his cheeks. Aaron hums in appreciation, crunching loudly. 

He feeds Aaron a few more pieces, then eats some himself just so he has something to do while Aaron chews away beside him. Aaron has this almost boyish aura around him, like he has no worries at all. It’s infectious. 

A few more hours pass, and during that time, Emily manages to call him three times. She’s currently at work, but she takes a few minutes to check on Julian every time she steps away from her cubicle. 

At some point, Julian falls asleep. He wakes up to someone shaking his shoulder, making him flinch in surprise.

“Jules.” It’s Aaron. “We’re here. Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

Julian blinks a few times, twisting his neck to shake off the kink. It’s already dark, and he notices the van parked beside them.

“Didn’t mean to fall asleep.” He yawns, covering his mouth. 

“It’s alright.” Aaron looks at him curiously. “Had trouble sleeping last night?”

He shrugs. Outside, Steven and Tommy are playfully roughhousing, and then they’re taking off across the green lawn toward the house. Their laughter carries through the open space, filtering even into the closed car. “Eh. The usual.”

Julian has been taking his sleeping pills, but since they’re just the over-the-counter types, he thinks they’re not strong enough. Exhaustion from work can knock him right out, but usually, he spends more time pretending to sleep than actually being asleep. He copes by stealing naps whenever he can throughout the day. He sometimes even gets away with it by sitting behind the counter at work, leaning against a wall, pulling his cap down low to hide his face, and just sleeping there while sitting. As soon as the bell over the door sounds and a customer walks in, he’s immediately awake. When Ollie’s there, he wakes Julian up, too. 

At night, when Julian can’t sleep, he sometimes leaves his room for a change of scenery. He’d sit in the living room in silence, sometimes in the kitchen. There have been many occasions when Aaron decided to join him, all sleep-rumpled and messy-haired, probably having somehow realized Julian was awake despite Julian’s quiet movements. Aaron would usually make chamomile tea for both of them. 

Sometimes, they’d chat. Sometimes, they would sit side by side on the couch, reading books or just sitting there with the TV’s volume set low. 

It’s the kind of peace Julian always looks forward to.

There’s a knock on the car window, and then Casey’s face appears. “Hurry up if you don’t want those two to get the good rooms!”

Not needing to be told twice, they climb out and get their things from the backseat and the trunk. Julian hasn’t really brought many things—just one large backpack and a smaller sling bag. Aaron packed about the same amount.

“So this is the famous Rowan summer house, huh?” Julian asks, taking in the surroundings. The property is tucked away, surrounded by vast stretches of green and clusters of trees. In the distance, he can make out a few other houses and some commercial buildings, but they’re far enough away that they’d need to drive to reach them.

The venue for the Echo Valley Fest is only less than an hour’s drive away from here, which is perfect. If Steven didn’t randomly have a house in the area, they would’ve had to book a motel or an Airbnb. Luckily, Steven’s family just happens to have properties all over the country, and apparently, they come in handy a lot because this isn’t even the first time the band has used one of Steven’s places for their little escapades. 

The house itself is surprisingly modest, at least compared to what Julian had pictured. Two stories of warm wood, shaded by big old trees, with ivy creeping lazily up the sides. White-trimmed windows break up the front, and a broad, covered porch wraps halfway around the house, with wicker chairs and a porch swing.

Since it’s a bit dark now, some of the lamps are on, and it gives the place this ethereal, welcoming glow.

As they make it up the wooden porch, Steven bursts out the main door, nearly running head-first into Aaron. He skids to a stop before that happens, blinking, and then grinning mischievously. 

“Since you guys are slow as hell, we’ve assigned rooms,” Steven says.

Aaron raises an eyebrow. “Already?” 

“Already.” Steven steps aside, ushering them inside. “Julian, since it’s your first time here, there are only two rules: one, no mocking the décor—I decorated the guest bathroom myself and yes, the flamingo wallpaper is intentional. Two, if you find any weird goat statues in the attic, don’t touch them. They bite.”

Julian blinks. “Goat statues?”

Steven waves him off. “It’s a long story involving Casey, a flea market, and poor impulse control. Anyway, welcome!”

They step inside. The house smells like lemon oil and fresh laundry. The walls are a soft cream, broken up by exposed brick and thick wooden ceiling beams. They walk past the living room which opens up around a stone fireplace, the hearth dark with leftover ash. Through a sliding glass door, Julian spots a pool.

Steven leads them toward the wooden staircase. “Casey and Tommy are sharing the room with the balcony. I picked the one with the skylight.”

They climb the stairs, the steps creaking under their weight. Upstairs, it’s equally as cozy, all big windows and warm colors. Steven brings them to a door at the very end of the hall, pushing it open with a flourish. 

Turning toward them, Steven spreads his arms, eyes twinkling with what looks like mischief. “This is the only room left. So, you guys are sharing.”

The room is simple but nice, with a queen-sized bed and a large window that lets in plenty of natural light. The walls are mostly bare, save for a few generic framed prints.

Aaron frowns. “Isn’t there another room in the—”

“Termites!” Steven cuts him off quickly, pointing a finger at Aaron almost threateningly. “The termites have completely destroyed that room, which is why neither of you are allowed to go there. Seriously. The housekeeper told me about it. It’s terrible news.”

Something about the dramatic way he says it makes Julian wonder if that truly is the case, but before he can question him, Steven suddenly reaches for his phone. 

“Oh, would you look at that? My Nana is calling.” Steven flashes them the screen of his phone. The screen is black. “Welp. I’m gonna leave you guys to it.” He dashes to the door, and they both watch as it slams shut behind him. 

A split second later, the door opens again and Steven’s head pops in through the gap. “Uh, also, just a reminder… the walls are thin. Okay? And I’m like, right next to your room. So, y’know, if you two plan on doing any strenuous physical activity—like, uh, working out or… whatever—maybe keep it down?”

“Steven,” Aaron says through gritted teeth, “you’re so dead—”

“Okay bye!” Then Steven’s gone again, leaving them both in stunned silence.     

Julian is the first to break the silence. “Is he always so…?”

“Weird? Energetic? Strangle-able?” Aaron sighs. “Yes to all three.” 

Julian shakes his head in amusement, turning around to examine the room. He really likes it—it’s not an extremely big room, but it’s spacious enough for two people. Julian drops his backpack onto the floor, dropping himself onto the foot of the bed and bouncing a bit. The mattress is soft.

“I, uh.” Aaron drops his stuff near the cabinet. “I can take the floor.”

Julian frowns. “The floor?”

“Yeah. I can just ask Steven for some sheets and stuff—”

“The bed is big enough for us,” Julian says without thinking. At the silence that follows, Julian realizes how that must sound. “I mean—only if you want to.”

“Oh, I was just—”

“Wait, I think I should sleep on the floor,” Julian says hurriedly, standing up. He can feel his cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “This is literally your best friend’s house. I’ll take the floor, you can have the bed.”

“No, you won’t,” Aaron says, and the sternness in his tone makes Julian freeze. 

But not out of fear. Just… something else. Something that’s making heat curl up in the pit of his stomach. 

He doesn’t even realize he’s staring until Aaron looks back at him, brows drawn in that serious way of his. Julian drops his gaze quickly and pretends to mess with the strap of his bag.

God. Get a grip.

“You’re not sleeping on the fucking floor, Jules,” Aaron says as if that’s the most ridiculous thing he has ever heard.

Julian raises his chin, almost defiant. “Then neither are you. As I said, the bed is big enough. If it’s no problem for you, I don’t mind sharing.”

Aaron just stands there, hands on his hips. His voice is suddenly soft and careful. “And you? Is that okay with you?”

He snorts. He can’t help it. Then he lets out a loud, genuine laugh. “Aaron, I promise you. You don’t need to be worried about protecting my virtue, or whatever. There’s literally zero left.”

Julian collapses back down on the bed, spreading his arms and legs, leaving him star-fished on top of the covers. The sheets smell like lemon, and everything is ridiculously soft. He sighs. “I might sleep right away. You guys can have dinner without me. I’m tired for some reason.”

Aaron hums. Julian hears him move around the room. He assumes he must be unpacking his stuff, so Julian closes his eyes and lets himself get lost in the white noise. 

“Jules?”

He flinches, torn away from sleep. He’s disoriented for a bit, and after blinking a couple of times, he realizes he’s still in the same position as earlier—sprawled on top of the covers—but his eyes feel weirdly heavy. He pushes himself up to sit, rubbing his eyes. “Did I fall asleep?”

“For about half an hour, yeah.” Aaron sits beside him on the bed. He has clearly already washed up and changed into pajamas. But it’s the box in his lap that makes Julian do a double-take.

Aaron clears his throat, looking oddly bashful. “Um, so. I debated whether I should give this to you back at the diner, after you gave us the guitar pick necklaces. But… I decided I just wanted it to be the two of us.” 

Julian sits up straighter, immediately curious. “Is this a gift for me?”

He smiles. “Remember how I said I’d replace those cassette tapes and cassette player I got you last Christmas?”

Of course he did. Julian treasured that gift—so much so that he never even got to use them because he thought them too precious. He just wanted to preserve them. That gift was proof, after all, that despite the dirty, rotting chasm inside of him, someone had thought he was worth giving a gift to. Someone like Aaron.

“Aaron…” Julian feels… well, he’s touched. “Did you really?”

“Yeah, duh.” Aaron rolls his eyes. “I promised you, didn’t I? I know I’m an idiot half the time but I meant it when I said it.”

“You’re not an idiot.” Julian lightly shoves him in reprimand. 

“I got you the same cassette tapes as before,” he starts, looking down at the box. It almost seems like Aaron’s nervous—but Julian knows better. “And… some new stuff.”

Julian scooches closer to him, playfully bumping shoulders. “Sounds exciting.”

Aaron exhales a little laugh, like he’s relieved. He lifts the lid of the box and turns it so Julian can see inside.

The first thing he notices is the familiar black-and-white cover of The Queen Is Dead, peeking out right on top. Beneath it, a handful of other tapes—The Cure, Depeche Mode, R.E.M., Fleetwood Mac, Pink Floyd, Queen—each one carefully chosen, the same ones Aaron had hunted down for him last Christmas, and some new ones Julian doesn’t recognize. Julian touches the edge of the case gently.

“You found them again,” he murmurs. His voice is soft, awed. “You remembered every single one.”

“Of course I did,” Aaron says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

Julian swallows. His throat feels tight, and he doesn’t really trust himself to say much without sounding wrecked. So instead he picks up the small cassette player nestled next to the tapes, brand new and matte black, its buttons untouched.

Aaron scratches the back of his neck. “I figured this one was smaller, easier to carry around. And it’s got one of those built-in speakers, too. But you can also use headphones or earbuds with it.”

Julian doesn't say anything for a moment. He’s not sure he could if he tried. His chest is too full. The kind of full that makes his fingers go cold and his skin feel tight over his bones, like his body doesn’t know what to do with this much tenderness.

“You’re really…” He tries to laugh, but it catches in his throat. “You’re kind of amazing, you know?”

Aaron huffs out a laugh, almost bashful. “Well. I keep my promises.”

Julian leans in a little without thinking—just close enough for their arms to brush again. His voice is quieter now. “Thank you. I mean it.”

“You’re welcome,” Aaron says. Then he smiles, smaller, a little softer. “You want to test it out?”

“Yeah,” he says, quiet. “Let’s do it.”

Aaron grins like a kid. “Hell yeah. Pick one.”

Julian fingers through the tapes, then pulls out The Smiths’ album. “Starting with this one.”

Aaron gives a low whistle of approval. “Classic tortured gay choice. Love it.”

Julian huffs a laugh. “Shut up.”

“No, seriously. It's iconic. Respect.”

Julian rolls his eyes and pops the tape in. The soft click of the player is followed by a brief mechanical whir, and then a fuzzy, low hum as the music starts. Take me out tonight...  

They sit in silence for a few beats, the cassette hissing faintly between lyrics.

Aaron leans back on his elbows. “Man, this place has great acoustics for something with wood paneling and… haunted-house vibes.”

Julian grins. “Don’t let Steven hear you talk about his house like that.”

“Hey, it’s not a dig. I like it.”

They lapse into silence. Aaron eventually stands, humming along to the song as he prepares his outfit for tomorrow.

Julian lies there, eyes closed, listening to the music.

The track ends, and he opens his eyes. Immediately, he finds Aaron watching him. Instead of looking away, Aaron just smiles.

The next song begins.

Julian just closes his eyes again, content.

Chapter Text

Julian learns something important that night: Aaron is an aggressive cuddler. 

It’s both heaven and hell.

Heaven, because who in their right mind would complain about someone like Aaron curled around them like a human furnace? He’s solid and warm, practically glued to Julian’s back, one arm slung heavy around his waist.

And hell, because Aaron does not let go. Ever.

Julian, who somehow manages to get cold no matter the temperature, should probably be grateful. And he is. Mostly.

But at the same time, Julian is but a man. He wakes up bundled up in Aaron, warm and snug. And aside from the firmness of Aaron’s chest against his back, there’s also the firmness of… something else.

It’s not even a big deal. Morning wood is normal. Julian gets it, and so does Aaron. But waking up with something hard poking against his backside, no matter how non-sexual it is in this context, has Julian’s entire face flaming up first thing in the morning. 

Taking a deep breath, Julian carefully removes Aaron’s arm so he can be freed from his grasp. Thankfully, Aaron happens to be a deep sleeper, so he hardly reacts. He just lies there, eyes closed and lips slightly parted, hair tousled almost artistically.

He gets off the bed, looking down at Aaron. He stares for a second, thinking about all the events that have led him to this moment—to sharing a bed with the most handsome man he’s ever met—and then he forces himself to walk toward the small bathroom connected to their room.

Once he’s inside, he sighs. He leans against the sink and stares at himself in the mirror. Surprisingly, he doesn’t look like death personified today. He’s a long way from “healthy,” of course, what with his thin face and ashen skin, but he also doesn’t look like he’s one gust of wind away from literal death.

Now that he thinks about it, last night was actually the most comfortable he’d ever slept in months. He didn’t have a single nightmare. He closed his eyes and the next thing he knew, it was morning already. It shows on his face now—gone are his dark eye bags, and he doesn’t look as pale as he usually does. 

Just being in Aaron’s presence overnight seems to have cured what bottles and bottles of over-the-counter meds have failed to do for so long.

Julian sighs again. He checks his phone and realizes he woke up before his alarm went off. Not wanting to go back to bed and get sucked into Aaron’s heat again, he decides to take an early shower. 

It’s only after he’s done showering that he realizes he forgot to bring the clothes he’ll change into. Thankfully, there’s a towel on the wall, so Julian wraps it around his hips and grabs another to dry his hair with.

He steps out of the bathroom, heading for the closet when a deep voice makes him startle.

“Morning, handsome,” he says, voice rough with sleep.

Julian jumps slightly, clutching the towel at his waist like it might fly off. “Jesus. I thought you were still asleep.”

Aaron stretches, one arm behind his head, the other resting lazily across his stomach. The sheets are bunched low around his waist, his shirt riding up just enough to show a glimpse of his toned stomach. There are pillow lines on the side of his face, his hair in disarray. 

“I was,” Aaron says, eyes roaming slowly, but not in a way that feels sleazy. Just… quietly appreciative. “Then I woke up ‘cause you were suddenly gone.”

Julian gives him a flat look, cheeks starting to feel hot. “Well. I wanted to get up earlier.”

He finally gets to the closet, trying to ignore the way his skin feels a little too warm under Aaron’s gaze. He opens the door and rummages through his clothes. He makes sure the closet door is blocking Aaron from seeing his exposed torso. 

The last thing he wants is for Aaron to see all the scars he’s gotten over the years. 

Behind him, the bed creaks softly. “So… we should share a bed more often. I slept like a rock.”

Julian snorts. “That’s because you are a rock. A rock from a volcano or something. Why are you so hot?”

He turns just in time to see Aaron’s eyebrows rise in amusement, eyes glinting. “Compliments this early in the morning? I could get used to this.”

Julian huffs out a breath of disbelief. “I meant you’re literally hot. You’re like a furnace.”

“What about figuratively?” he says, wiggling his eyebrows. “C’mon, Jules. You can say it. You think I'm sexy.”

Julian whips a T-shirt off the hanger and quickly shoves it on. “I think you should brush your teeth because that morning breath is so insane I can smell it all the way here.”

Aaron barks out a surprised cackle. Julian keeps his eyes inside the closet, distractedly looking for a pair of pants. He doesn’t want Aaron to see his reddening cheeks.

“That was a bit harsh, wasn’t it?”

Julian risks a glance, just to check if Aaron is actually mad at him. But no—Aaron’s grinning like a madman, now sitting against the headboard. 

“Well,” Julian drawls, “someone’s gotta keep your ego in check. God knows what kind of monster you’d turn into if you got any more full of yourself.”

“But it’s Echo Valley Fest day! Isn’t this the perfect time for a confidence boost?”

Julian finally finds a pair of jeans and bends to grab them.  “I think you alone have enough confidence for the entire band, actually.” 

Aaron snickers. A few seconds later, Julian hears the rustle of blankets followed by the soft thud of Aaron’s feet hitting the floor. For a moment, Julian tenses when Aaron approaches from behind, not really knowing what to expect. 

But all Aaron says is, “I’m going to brush my teeth, by the way,” and then he continues to pad toward the bathroom. “You can stop being mean now. At least until the next time I’m in the mood for it again.”

Then, he closes the bathroom door behind him. Julian ducks his head, smiling. 

By the time they all get on the road, the morning’s already picking up speed. It takes about an hour to reach the venue—longer than expected, thanks to the traffic. A few major artists are set to headline Echo Valley Fest tonight, and it’s clear the crowds are only going to get worse as the day goes on.

Silent Riot is scheduled to play nearer to mid-day, and they’re expecting a considerable amount of people already at that point. Tens of thousands, to be exact. They’re playing just before a relatively well-known band, meaning a lot of people who will come to watch that artist will likely catch Silent Riot’s prior set. Tommy says it means more people hearing their music—which is always a good thing for getting their name out there.

“I’m about to shit my pants,” Steven announces as soon as they all climb out of their vehicles. 

Julian empathizes. He’s not even going to be performing, and the amount of people he’s met with is enough to make him anxious. 

There’s a separate parking area exclusively for the artists playing today, so the lot they’re in isn’t that crowded at all. But through the wire fence separating them from the main festival area, Julian sees a huge crowd in the distance—people walking around, stopping for photos, drifting from one spot to the next.

Beyond rows of food trucks and glitter-drenched vendor tents, the main stage looms, framed by LED panels and rigging. Giant art installations dot the open field, some spinning lazily in the breeze, others pulsing with light and bass from nearby speakers. Flags wave from backpacks, makeshift shade structures, and towering poles, and everywhere he looks, there’s motion. People in flowing outfits and neon sunglasses, dancing in groups or sprawled out on the grass. The air smells like beer, grass, and fried food. And of course, music bleeds from every direction, layered and overlapping.

The sun shines high in the sky, promising even more blazing heat later into the day, and Julian immediately feels sweat beading at his temples. 

“What do you think?” Aaron says, standing next to him and following his gaze. His arms are crossed over his chest, tattoos on full display. He’s wearing a simple graphic black shirt clinging to his sculpted body in all the right ways, paired with faded jeans. 

Despite how simple the outfit is, he looks amazing. He’s put some effort into his hair—it’s combed and gelled into perfection, revealing more of his forehead than usual. Julian just knows his hair will be a mess later, and somehow, he just knows Aaron will rock that look, too.

“That’s a lot of people,” Julian says. His eyes catch on the necklace Aaron’s wearing—the Silent Riot guitar pick necklace Julian got him. The entire band is wearing it, actually. It makes Julian smile a bit to himself. “What do you think?”

Aaron exhales through his nose, his jaw shifting slightly as he surveys the crowd. “I think I’m about to throw up. But like... in a good way.”

Julian laughs. “Is that a thing?”

“Oh, totally. It’s like pre-show nausea. Means I’m getting rid of all the nervous energy now rather than later when I’m on stage,” Aaron says, flashing a crooked grin. He shifts his weight and bumps Julian’s shoulder gently. “But seriously, this is wild. Biggest crowd we’ve ever played for. And I don’t even have a small stage to blame if I eat shit out there.”

Julian glances at him, brow raised. “You planning on falling?”

“I’m planning on not, but you know how the universe loves irony.” Aaron tilts his head. “If I trip, you better pretend it was part of the choreography.”

“I’ll start a rumor that it was a symbolism.”

“Perfect.”

Before Julian can say anything more, Tommy slaps a hand on Aaron’s shoulder to get his attention. “We should head to our backstage tent.” He turns to Julian, smiling tightly. “Everything good, Julian?”

Julian nods quickly. “Yeah, of course. I’m excited for you guys.”

There’s a commotion behind them—Steven has somehow dropped their container of snacks onto the asphalt and is currently getting scolded by Casey. 

Tommy is distracted by it for a second, and then he turns back to Julian. “Good. Stay close, alright? We’ve informed security about the situation—but we’d still feel better if we could always see you.”

Aaron slips an arm around Julian’s shoulders, pulling him in just enough to be close. 

Julian swallows. “Okay. I will.”

It’s comforting to know that they’re always looking out for him. But every time he’s reminded of Logan, it’s also like getting doused with cold water—getting harshly yanked away from the temporary peace he’d found. 

Part of him wishes he could forget all about the uglier truths of his life so he can fully enjoy this day without any distractions. Unfortunately, that’s impossible. 

“Alright,” Casey says from behind them, helping Steven toss the last pieces of their snacks back into the container. “You guys ready?”

The five of them grab their stuff and head down the path that leads to their tent. Julian sticks to Aaron’s side, and when they emerge in an open area where there are more people than before, Aaron reaches down and grabs his hand.

It makes Julian stumble a bit, but he quickly regains his balance and lets Aaron lead him forward. Aaron’s hand is warm and slightly rough against his skin, engulfing Julian’s. His hold is secure—like he doesn’t want to risk Julian slipping away from him somehow. 

When Aaron looks over his shoulder and meets his eyes, Julian gives him a smile and squeezes his hand in quiet thanks.

They stop by the artist's check-in tent first, and then they head to their own tent where they’ll be staying as the band waits to perform. 

Tommy immediately beelines for the mini-fridge, opening it and revealing energy drinks, bottled water, and two cans of cherry Coke. He cracks one open and tosses the other to Casey, who catches it one-handed.

Casey looks around with an appreciative sigh. “Okay, this is officially the fanciest setup we’ve ever had. Remember that pizza place we played where the green room was just a mop closet?”

“I had to sit on an overturned bucket,” Steven says. “The acoustics were excellent.”

Julian settles beside Aaron on the couch, half listening. Aaron leans close and murmurs, “Want me to get you a drink?”

Julian shakes his head. “I’m good. Thank you, though.”

Casey joins them, sitting on the armrest of the couch beside Julian. She hands him her digital camera. “You sure you’re up for it, babe? We have an official photographer taking pictures, too.”

Earlier, Julian had offered to take pictures and videos during the performance, simply because he wanted to help them remember this moment. He takes the camera from Casey. “I got it. It’s no problem.”

From across the room, Steven says, “Giving us gifts and taking our pictures? You might just be our band’s first official groupie.”

With perfect aim, Aaron launches a half-empty bottle of water across the room, and it hits Steven square in the back of his head.

“Ow!” Steven complains.

“No throwing shit,” Casey cuts in, stern. “Seriously.”

Steven just grumbles and goes back to digging through his bag, while Aaron just sits there and grins.

“Alright,” Casey says, turning back to Julian. “Just make sure you don’t lose your guest pass and you can pretty much get around.”

Julian opens his mouth to ask something, but a voice cuts through the noise from outside the tent.

“Aaron?”

Aaron perks up and jumps to his feet. “Back here!”

A moment later, a woman and a teenage girl appear at the entrance. The woman is short and sun-warmed, wearing a lanyard with a guest pass swinging from her neck. The girl beside her has long dark braids, wearing a flowy dress. Julian blinks, taken aback by how similar she looks to Aaron.

“Mom, Annie,” Aaron says, pulling them both into a hug. “You made it!”

Julian gets off the couch, standing next to Tommy and the others. He watches Aaron embracing his family, and for some reason, it makes Julian nervous. Aaron always talks about his mom and sister, and they often speak over the phone. Aaron had mentioned that they might come today, so Julian knew it was possible he’d be meeting them for the first time. Still, knowing it doesn’t make him any less anxious.

He really wants to make a good impression—these are the most important people in Aaron’s life, after all.

“Four hours of driving and she only complained for three and a half,” Aaron’s mom says, shooting a look at Annie.

“My phone died and I forgot to bring my power bank,” Annie says, as though that explains everything. 

“There’s a charging port somewhere in here.” Aaron shoots a hand out as though to ruffle Annie’s hair, which Annie aggressively dodges, shoving his hand away. 

“There better be,” Annie grumbles. 

“Some enthusiasm would be nice!” Aaron says in mock offense. “You’re in the presence of Silent Riot right now, do you realize that?”

“Silent Riot?” She scoffs lightly. “Pretty sure I saw a deodorant called that at Walgreens.”

Tommy chokes on his drink.

“Okay!” Aaron’s mom claps her hands together once, pointing sternly at Aaron in warning, who’s clearly about to fire back at Annie. She then turns to the rest of the room, finding Julian, Tommy, Casey, and Steven. “Congratulations, you guys!”

Tommy, Casey, and Steven head straight for her, all smiles as they trade hugs and greetings. Julian stays back, feeling incredibly awkward.

But then Aaron’s immediately at his side, gently urging him forward with a hand pressed against the small of his back. Aaron meets his eyes, a quiet question in his gaze: You okay?

Julian nods. Yeah.

Clearing his throat loudly, Aaron says, “Mom, Annie. This is Julian. Julian—my mom and sister.”

Julian awkwardly brushes his hands on his jeans. “Hi.”

Aaron’s mom smiles instantly, her eyes lighting up. “It’s so good to finally meet you, Julian! Aaron has mentioned you more times than I can count.”

Unexpectedly, she approaches Julian and wraps him in a gentle embrace. Julian freezes for a moment, unsure how to react, but then his stiff limbs soften at her kind, motherly touch. He returns the hug, lightly resting his palms on her back.

For some reason, he feels the familiar tightening in his throat. He pulls away before he does something embarrassing, like cry in front of everyone. “It’s nice to meet you too, Ma’am.”

“Oh, just call me Martha.” Her eyes crinkle at the corners as she looks up at him. She squeezes his upper arms before fully pulling away. “And thank you for being here for these four idiots.”

“Oh, um. Of course. Wouldn’t miss it.”

Annie steps forward, eyeing him like she’s trying to size him up. “So you’re Julian.” She pauses for a bit—long enough that Julian starts to feel sweat gathering at the back of his neck. How could a teenage girl be so scary? “You’re the one who’s been turning my brother into a giant marshmallow.”

Aaron grits out, “Annie.”

Julian huffs out a reluctant laugh. “A giant marshmallow?”

She shrugs. It looks like she’s trying to fight back a smile. “He talks about you all the time, it’s honestly embarrassing. But I can kind of see it. You seem really sweet and you’re kinda cute—”

Aaron suddenly lunges at her, slapping a hand over her mouth. Annie screams, but the sound comes out muffled. Aaron just grins, casually dragging a flailing Annie away until they’re all the way outside the tent. From the exasperated look on Martha’s face, Julian figures this probably isn’t the first time they’ve pulled something like this.

With a fond sigh, Martha turns back to Julian. “Well. I brought some home-baked cupcakes. Aaron tells me you like chocolate. Would you like some?”

“Cupcakes?” Steven chimes in, nearly knocking Tommy over as he makes his way to Martha. “You brought some for me, too, right?”

“There’s enough for everyone, darling.”

“Sweet!”

Everyone heads for the couch. As Julian makes a move to follow them, Martha suddenly says, “Thank you, Julian.”

Julian stumbles a bit, turning to face her again. “Um—sorry?”

She smiles at him. The kindness in her eyes reminds him of what he always sees when he looks at Aaron. “You make my son very happy. So, thank you.”

Without saying anything else, she goes to join the others. Julian stands there for a second, feeling something warm unfurl in his chest.

☾

The crowd is alive. 

Bodies press close, camera phones are held high, beer cups are sloshing. The air smells like grass and sun, but none of it touches the little roped-off area where Julian stands beside Martha and Annie. 

Annie is bouncing on her toes, pretending to be unimpressed but clearly giddy. Aaron’s mom watches the crowd with a calm smile, her arms folded over her chest. 

Julian stands as close to the stage as he can manage, camera in hand, and watches the stage light up.

The crowd’s reaction is instant. Screams and cheers rise the second the band walks out, and it’s loud. For a minor act, and especially for a first-time festival performer, it’s impressive.

The thrill hits him fast, and Julian immediately begins snapping photos as Casey takes the mic. She’s beaming, her glittery eye make-up sparkling in the sun.

“We’re Silent Riot,” she shouts. “We’re so excited to be playing for you today!”

The crowd cheers back.

Casey keeps talking, interacting with the crowd and getting them hyped up, but Julian eventually loses track of what she’s saying. He’s too busy staring at Aaron up there, at the effortlessly cool way he carries himself. At his blinding, familiar smile. It’s insane to Julian how someone could look so perfect.

Then, suddenly, the music hits.

Tommy’s bass thunders through the ground first, funky, and Steven layers in with a sharp riff. Then the drums come in—Aaron. Julian feels a rush wash over him. 

Right now, Aaron is barely visible back there behind his kit, but Julian sees the way his shoulders move, the wild swing of his arms, how he’s grinning through the whole thing. 

Julian finds himself grinning, too. He sings along, quietly at first, then louder when he realizes no one can hear him over the music anyway. He looks out at the crowd and something about the view makes his chest ache.

People are dancing. Throwing their arms in the air, even though most of them don’t know the words. It fills him with pride. It makes him infinitely grateful that he gets to be here for this.

He lifts the camera again, snaps a shot of Casey with her head thrown back mid-note, Tommy leaning into a bass run, Steven with his eyes closed like he’s somewhere else entirely. And then he zooms in.

Aaron.

Julian catches him in perfect focus, hair damp with sweat, strong arms moving fast but precise, lips parted slightly as he counts himself through the tempo.

Aaron looks up and finds him. Across the crowd, across the lights and haze, Aaron meets his eyes. Then he smiles. And at that moment, it feels like the crowd just disappears. 

It feels like it’s just the two of them.

“That’s my son up there! With the drums!” The wind carries Martha’s voice. Julian glances over his shoulder to see her eyes glistening with tears. She looks around, telling the people around her, “Isn’t he great? That’s my son!”

Julian smiles softly, a warmth spreading through his chest.  

The band goes through the first few songs energetically. Steven tears through solos, and Tommy’s bass rumbles throughout the whole venue. Casey commands the stage with fierce confidence, and Julian realizes how much of a great singer and performer she actually is. And Aaron—

Julian can’t stop watching him.

He keeps snapping photos, but more and more, the camera hangs loosely around his neck as he lets the music pull him in. 

After a breakneck set of five songs, Casey steps forward again, and the band behind her shifts gears. Julian notices it immediately; the pace slows and the lights dim slightly.

Casey speaks into the mic. “We’ve got something different for you next. This one’s kind of a special song.”

She glances over her shoulder—at Aaron, specifically—then back toward the mic. “Aaron wrote this one. He doesn’t usually say that out loud, so I’m saying it for him. It’s for someone... really important.”

And then, unmistakably, she turns and winks right at Julian. “This one’s called ‘Quiet!’”

Julian freezes.

Aaron, behind his kit, doesn’t look away from Julian. Not even once.

The song begins with a gentle strum from Steven. Casey’s voice comes in slowly, more delicate than before. And Aaron’s backing vocals—low, steady—slide in underneath hers. 

Julian recognizes the melody immediately.

It’s the song Aaron had accidentally put in Julian’s phone, the one Julian first heard while he was at the laundromat. The one that couldn’t possibly be for Julian. 

Right?

But now, it’s being played in front of thousands of people, and Casey is singing words that Julian never expected to hear in public.

“There’s a smile I see when the world’s gone quiet, and I know, I just know, it’s meant for me.”

It really is that song. 

Every lyric feels like it was pulled from a moment they shared, from hushed conversations and secret smiles. From the peaceful quiet that comes from Aaron’s mere presence. From the comfortable silence that stretches between them at 3 AM, when Julian can’t sleep and Aaron decides to join him wherever he is.

The quiet that takes over Julian’s head whenever Aaron’s by his side.

Aaron’s voice rises with Casey’s on the chorus, and the whole time, he’s looking straight at Julian.

Julian doesn’t know how he’s still standing.

His hand finds the strap of Casey’s camera and clutches it like it might anchor him to the earth. The crowd loves the song. A few couples even sway together. 

Annie nudges him gently, leans in just enough to be heard over the music. “If someone wrote that about me, I’d be ugly-crying.”

Julian’s too overwhelmed to answer. He feels stripped bare. Part of him still wants to reject it, thinks this couldn’t possibly be about him.

But it’s clearer now more than ever. There’s no doubt. 

This is all for him. 

He blinks quickly in an effort the clear the sudden blurriness in his eyes.

Eventually, the song winds down with Aaron and Casey singing the last line in perfect sync. The final chord lingers.

The crowd cheers and claps. Then Casey steps back to the mic. She starts talking to the crowd, thanking them for being here, telling them how this means a lot to the band. But Julian can hardly understand what she’s saying over the mess that has become of his head.

He feels Aaron’s gaze on him all the way from the stage, and it makes him feel even more off-balance.

The next thing Julian knows, the band is already diving straight into their closing song—one of their most explosive tracks. It’s the one that’s full of distortion and shouted lyrics. It hits hard and fast, a final punch of energy to close out the set. 

Somehow, Julian pulls himself back to the moment by the end of it. He raises his arms with the crowd, singing along, even though his heart is still pounding from the last song. Then, the final note slams into the air, the crowd erupts, and just like that, it’s over.

The band waves and jogs offstage.

Julian doesn’t wait. He squeezes his way through the crowd, eyes set on Aaron.

They immediately find each other—dodging techs and half-unplugged cables, pushing through the thick of stagehands and gear. And when they meet near the side of the stage, they don’t say anything at first.

They just look at each other.

Julian’s still breathless.

And everything in between them is loud and quiet at once.

“Hey,” Aaron says, chest rising and falling. His dark hair is plastered all over his forehead, and his shirt is soaked through with sweat. His eyes, though—Julian thinks he’s never seen Aaron so alive before.

“Hey,” Julian says, palms sweaty. Suddenly, the emotion in his chest doubles in size, making it hard to breathe, making it hard to see through the beginning of tears building up in his eyes. “I…”

“Did you like it?” Aaron asks suddenly. He steps closer, close enough that Julian can feel his hot breath. “The song?”

Julian swallows. “You… you wrote that?” 

What he really wants to ask is: You wrote that for me? He just needs to be sure. He needs to be a hundred percent certain. 

Aaron can probably read it on his face, though, because Julian doesn’t even need to ask. Aaron just knows. “It’s my other gift for you, Jules. I composed it just for you.”

And there it is.

The crowd erupts into cheers again—the next artist is probably onstage already, starting their set. But to Julian, the noise feels distant and muted.

Why? Julian wants to know why. A love song. For Julian. He can’t wrap his head around it.

“But why?” Julian chokes out. “I don’t… I don’t understand.”

Julian has thought about it—the idea of him and Aaron together. It’s the kind of thing he quietly dreams about, wondering what it might be like. But never, not even in his wildest dreams, did he ever think it could actually happen.

During quiet nights, he likes to think of another timeline, one where Julian didn’t go through what he did. One where it would make much more sense for Aaron to actually have feelings for him. One where it’s even distantly plausible for Aaron to look at him as more than a friend. 

But this is reality—and Julian’s world feels too broken for something like that to be real.

Aaron takes Julian’s hands, tearing him away from his thoughts. Aaron’s eyes are intense and stormy, dark brows furrowed. Julian waits.

“I love you,” Aaron simply says. “I’ve been in love with you for a while now.”

Julian feels like the air’s been knocked out of him.

“I don’t want anything from you,” Aaron goes on, like he’s afraid Julian might suddenly pull away. “You don’t have to prove anything, or say it back, or feel ready. I just wanted you to know.”

A bass-heavy song kicks in, loud enough to make the ground tremble beneath him. The crowd’s roar fills the air, but Julian can’t look away from Aaron—those dark, honest eyes, the gentle curve of his smile, the quiet warmth that seems to glow from him.

“Why,” Julian says again, barely a whisper. “Why me? After everything… you’d really…?”

Aaron leans in a little, just enough so Julian can hear him over the music and the chaos all around them. His hands are still wrapped around Julian’s, thumbs brushing gently over his knuckles.

“Because it’s you,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Not in spite of anything. You’re you, and I love you. That’s all there is to it.”

Julian thinks he’d wake up any moment now. He’d wake up and find himself in bed, buried under the blankets. Then he’d meet Aaron in the kitchen, they’d have breakfast together, and everything would be back to normal.

But that doesn’t happen. Aaron remains standing in front of him, patient and gentle and everything Julian has desperately wished for. And now that it’s here, right in front of him, he finds himself unable to say anything. He finds himself unable to react at all.  

Aaron’s gaze drifts over Julian’s face, like he’s trying to memorize every inch of it. Then, they linger on Julian’s lips. Slowly, Aaron lifts a hand and uses it to cradle the side of Julian’s face.

Something about his soft touch makes tears spring to Julian’s eyes. 

“Is that okay?” Aaron asks quietly—so quiet that Julian has to read his lips to understand him. “Will you let me love you, Jules?”

Julian reaches up and gently holds the hand that Aaron has cupped against his cheek. Leans in closer, letting his eyes roam all over Aaron’s face. 

“I…” Julian starts. But he doesn’t really know what to say.

I don’t deserve you. I love you, too. I want you to love me. I don’t think this is a good idea. I think you’ll get sick of me. I think I’m too much for you. I need you. I think I’ll go insane without you. I love you, too. 

“Shh.” Aaron brushes away the tears on Julian’s cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Don’t overthink it. I can see it in your eyes.”

How can Julian not overthink this? 

“You’re allowed to want things,” Aaron tells him softly. “You of all people deserve that. You know that, right?”

Julian takes a shaky breath. He blinks and blinks until he can see Aaron’s face in full clarity again—the small specks of dark brown in his eyes, the subtle curve of his thick lashes, the redness of his lips.

His lips. 

Fireworks go off somewhere in the distance, but Julian doesn’t even flinch. He barely even hears them. The world has gone strangely still, all the noise suddenly silenced.

He just looks at Aaron.

At the way the stage lights still catch faintly in his eyes. At the curve of his mouth, so close now Julian can see the way his bottom lip dips slightly in the middle. His breath catches, eyes helplessly drawn to Aaron’s lips again and again. 

Julian swallows. Aaron doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. He just waits. 

Will you let me love you, Jules?

He should say no. Every instinct shaped by fear and past hurt begs him to. But he looks at Aaron, and the word catches in his throat.

Instead, he does the only thing he can.

He quiets the noise in his head. The voices that say he doesn’t deserve this, that he should run away and hide, that it’s all some cruel setup, that love like this just isn't meant for people like him. He shuts them out and buries them in the deepest pits of his mind.

And then, heart pounding, Julian leans in and kisses him.

Chapter Text

Julian’s lips were numb. The kiss was rushed and hungry, so much so Julian could barely keep up. In response, he just went as pliant as possible, opening his mouth and letting a wet tongue probe inside. 

Suddenly, there was the metallic taste of blood. Julian jerked back in surprise, belatedly realizing that his lower lip had been bitten harshly and was now bleeding.

“Relax,” the man above him said. Rough hands gripped Julian’s face again, keeping him in place. In the darkness of the room, Julian could only make out the man’s thick beard and dark eyebrows. His breath smelled of alcohol and cigarette smoke. “Stop moving so much.”

Julian swallowed, giving his client a quick nod. Satisfied, the man went back into the kiss, shifting so that his entire body covered Julian’s. Julian could feel the cold hard floor even through the thin mattress beneath his back, but he bore the uncomfortableness of it all and let the man kiss and lick and bite. 

Frankly, most clients chose to skip the kissing part and went straight to the fucking, but Julian supposed there were always exceptions like this one. 

For some reason, though, Julian found the kissing even more disgusting than when they were full-on having penetrative sex. He suspected the other whores felt the same.

The minutes flew by, and eventually, his client got tired of kissing. Large hands began touching all over Julian’s body, sneaking beneath his thin shirt and twisting his nipples, then heading down to unbutton Julian’s shorts. While he did this, the man kissed and licked at Julian’s neck, sucking hard enough that Julian knew there would be a blooming hickey afterward.

Some Johns hated it when Julian had visible hickeys and bruises and whatnot because it probably reminded them that they were fucking a cheap little whore, while others barely even noticed. Back when he used to live with Logan, Logan generally didn’t like it when clients left marks on him, saying it was bad for business.

But Logan wasn’t here anymore. Logan had tossed him back into this hellhole, had torn him away from Aaron. 

These days, Julian couldn’t find it in himself to care about anything, least of all fucking hickeys and marks on his skin.

“Turn over,” the man said, his hot breath fanning across the side of Julian’s face. 

Obediently, Julian turned and positioned himself on his hands and knees. The man yanked his shorts and briefs down, then draped himself over Julian’s back. Julian stared at the wall in front of him, at the peeling wallpaper and yellowish, unidentified stains all over it. He was only jerked back to reality when he felt a finger probe at his entrance. 

“You’re all wet and open already, huh?” the man said hoarsely, clearly lust-driven. “You got ready for me, is that it? You’re so eager for Daddy, aren’t you?”

Bizarrely, Julian wanted to laugh. He wanted to cackle loudly, consequences be damned. Because of course this guy had a daddy kink. He seemed exactly the type. Though to be fair, this wasn’t even close to the worst fetish he had encountered, so today was still a relatively lucky day.

Julian took a deep breath. Made his voice soft and light, even if it made him sick to his stomach. “Y-yes. Been thinking about it all day, Daddy.”

“Fuck…” The man groaned, and then there was the sound of a zipper being opened. “Fuck, okay. You’re so hot, baby. Here. You don’t have to wait any longer.”

Likely controlled purely by lust, he started pushing into Julian’s entrance without any warning. Julian could already tell the man didn’t use lube, probably because he thought Julian’s prep was enough. But Julian would’ve still preferred him lubing up his own dick, because right now, it felt like he was being impaled by a fucking tree trunk.

“Ah…” Julian couldn’t help the sound of pain from escaping. He leaned down so his cheek was pressed to the mattress, his ass high in the air. He spread his legs in the hopes of easing the pain a bit, eyes squeezed shut. “S-slow, please. Slow.”

“You’re fucking tight.” The man grunted, pushing and pushing until Julian could feel that he was fully inside now. “Fuck. Holy shit. You’re so sexy, baby.”

“Th-thank you, Daddy.”

“Fuck…” He pulled out nearly all the way, then in. He gripped Julian’s hips, pulling him backward every time he thrust forward. “I can s-see why you’re so popular here.”

Julian blinked his eyes open, not in so much pain anymore. The man was fucking him at a steady pace now, punctuated by particularly harsh thrusts every now and then, but it was manageable. Julian glanced at the small window near the ceiling, but he couldn’t see it properly because of his position. Still, he could tell it was still around mid-afternoon if the angle of the sunlight streaming through the window was anything to go by.

He had a long way to go. There would be even more clients at night. 

“I’m gonna—” The man’s thrusts stuttered, his grip tightening on Julian’s hips even more. “Fuck. I’m gonna come inside you. You’d like that, huh? You’d like that ‘cause you’re a good boy.”

Julian honest to God had to turn his face into the mattress so the man wouldn’t see his crazed smile. Fuck, this was hilarious. He didn’t know why he felt like laughing right now. 

He really might’ve actually lost his mind at this point.

“Y-yes, yes, please…” Julian managed to say without laughing, but it was a hard thing to do. “Please, Daddy, please—”

The man made a sound—somewhere between a grunt and a whimper—and then came. A few seconds later, he pulled out. 

Julian collapsed fully onto his front, worn out. Behind him, he heard the man getting dressed. Then, a sigh. “What’s your name again?”

Something about the question made him freeze up. Whatever humor he’d found earlier fully vanished, replaced by gut-churning dread and disgust. “Huh?”

“Your name. So I can ask for you again next time.”

Julian’s throat felt tight. “Julian.”

“Alright.” 

The doorknob rattled, footsteps, and then the door slammed shut. 

Julian was alone again.

He knew he should get up. He knew he should get cleaned up and dressed so that the next client could tear his clothes off him again. So that they could get him all dirty again.

But all he did was squeeze his eyes shut. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been here, how many months it had been since Logan and Aaron collided, since Aaron got hurt, since Logan decided to punish him by putting him back here. 

If Logan’s goal was to break him, then he’d succeeded. He’d fucking succeeded.

“Hey,” a male voice said, and only then did Julian realize he must’ve fallen asleep. 

He blinked rapidly, and then Julian flipped over to his front, heart racing. “Sorry. I just—”

“Stop talking. Just stand up and follow me.”

It was Hank. He was relatively new, so Julian was cautious around him. Sometimes, when Ricky was busy, it was Hank who looked after Julian. The man was intimidating with his tall height and broad shoulders, and he must be one of the older guys in here, with his gray hairs and all. 

“I said stand,” Hank said, this time leaning down to personally drag Julian off the mattress on the floor. 

Julian’s legs wobbled, trying to find his footing, but Hank didn’t wait. He just dragged Julian out of the room, naked and dirty into the hallway and down the stairs. There were some people downstairs, most of them being Logan’s men, and they all whistled and threw out lascivious comments as Julian walked past, his entire body on full fucking display.

Julian’s face burned. He didn’t know he still had it in him to be embarrassed, but here he was.

Finally, they reached one of the bathrooms. It was one of the smaller ones—cramped and smelling of rust and piss. Hank turned the light on, and the sudden change from dimness to brightness made Julian squint his eyes.

“C’mere,” Hank said again, bodily dragging Julian toward the countertop beside the sink. “Bend over.”

Julian pursed his lips and did as told. He bent over the countertop, forearms resting on the surface, and when he looked up, he was immediately met with his reflection in the mirror.

Hickeys all over his neck. Sex-ruffled hair. Dead eyes.

“Let me clean you up, alright? You must be tired, after all. You work so hard.”

In the mirror, he could see Hank’s smirk, his eyes trailing all over Julian’s backside and legs. Julian clenched his jaw but said nothing.

Hank grabbed a towel, wet it under the sink, and then began scrubbing Julian’s back. As he did so, he fully pressed his body to Julian, crotch to ass. The man hummed to himself, wiping down Julian’s arms and chest. It didn’t take long at all for Hank to harden in his pants, and Julian could feel it pressed right up against him.

“I heard you were Logan’s pet for a while,” Hank said out of the blue. He abandoned the damp towel and was now reaching for a bottle of oil. “Whatever happened there, hmm? Had a little lover’s quarrel?”

In the mirror, Julian watched as Hank poured some oil onto his palms. Then, he rubbed them together and began massaging Julian’s back. 

When the silence dragged on, Hank suddenly landed a sharp slap to his ass cheek. “Answer me.”

“He wasn’t happy with me anymore,” Julian said through gritted teeth. “He was hard to please.”

Hank chuckled. His hands traveled down, down, until he was massaging Julian’s lower back and hips. “Hmm. Boss does have quite a temper on him. I’m surprised all he did was put you back in here if he was truly unhappy with you.” Hank met his eyes. “He’d done far worse to people who’d done far less.”

Julian knew this. He’d thought about it quite a lot. And the only reason he could come up with was that Logan wasn’t done punishing him. If Julian was dead, then how could Logan teach him a lesson? Julian was convinced Logan still wanted him dead. It was only a matter of time.

“I know.” Julian looked down, finding his hands clenched into fists where they were resting on the countertop. 

“Well…” Hank stepped away, taking his rock-hard dick with him. “Lucky for me, eh? Now I get to enjoy this.”

Julian didn’t say anything. There was no use.

“Was your client harsh on you? You hurt anywhere?”

Taking a deep breath, he said, “No. I’m alright.”

“Ah. But see, you’re one of the most popular whores here. Can’t have you not performing at your best, can we? I’ll have to check just to be sure.”

Before Julian could say anything else, he felt Hank spread his cheeks. Hank went down into a crouch so that Julian’s ass was right in his face. “Ah. A little red, a little irritated. You took him so well, didn’t you? Took his cum and everything. Let’s see…”

Hank started circling his rim with his finger, and Julian couldn’t help the sound of surprise that escaped his mouth. Hank’s finger was cold and rough, and he was still a bit sore from earlier.

“Does that hurt?”

“No.”

Still, Hank kept going. He played around with his rim for a while, and then inserted his whole finger inside, wiggling around like he was searching for something. Julian clamped his mouth shut, forced to bear it. 

“No tears anywhere?” Hank inserted a second finger, making Julian hiss. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

He started pounding his fingers in and out, the squelching sound loud in the cramped bathroom. Hank was suddenly breathing hard, standing now so he could press his body against Julian’s back while fingering him.

“That feel good?”

Julian met his eyes in the mirror, seeing Hank’s dark, half-lidded eyes staring back at him over his shoulder. 

Ever since Hank arrived, Julian had heard that the man was a pervert who liked to mess around with the other whores. Julian had naively assumed he was only into women. 

Now he knew he was clearly wrong.

“No,” Julian found himself saying, his voice dripping with disdain. He was too fucking tired for this. “I’m just bored.”

Hank scoffed, then laughed. “You’re a mouthy one, aren’t you?”

Julian didn’t grace that with a response. This seemed to motivate Hank, though, because he started curling his fingers and twisting them around, pounding in and out, curling and uncurling, until—

“Ah…” Julian couldn’t help it. He’d found his spot.

Hank grinned, revealing sharp teeth. “Now does it feel good?”

Julian pursed his lips together, not wanting to give this man the satisfaction of seeing him affected. Yes, it felt good, but that didn’t mean anything. 

Hank kept going, kept hitting that spot just right, and Julian fucking hated himself for getting hard. He could see it in the mirror—how his cock started hardening, red at the tip. 

“You look sexy like this,” Hank told him, breath hot against his ear. “Fuck. Logan used to have you like this every day? He’s fucking insane for letting you go.”

Reaching around him, Hank grabbed his hard cock and started stroking, all while still fingerfucking him from behind. Julian let out a whimper. Fucking hell. When he was with clients, they rarely made him finish. It was all about their pleasure, not Julian’s. He hadn’t felt release in a long time.

“C’mon. Want you to come for me.”

Julian didn’t want to. He knew how this went—he’d feel good at the beginning, and then later he’d feel fucking disgusting, feel like even bigger of a whore than he already was—

One final twist of fingers and a harsh tug had Julian spilling onto the countertop, his body going completely boneless. He would’ve collapsed if Hank hadn’t grabbed him from behind and manhandled him until he was on his knees, facing a red-faced and sweaty Hank. 

“It’s only fair that you return the favor, darling,” Hank said in between pants, unbuckling his belt and pulling his dick out. He gave himself a couple of strokes, all while Julian knelt there, the tiles cold and harsh beneath his knees. “C’mon. Open up.”

Julian’s head was all hazy post-orgasm. So, he said nothing when Hank firmly grabbed his hair and pulled him forward, said nothing when Hank smeared precome all over his lips, said nothing when Hank thrust inside his mouth, quick and unforgiving.

Julian gripped his thighs, eyes watering as Hank went deep, pubes tickling Julian’s nose. He looked up, and through the tears in his eyes, he didn’t see Hank. He saw different men, all of them one and the same, all of them cruel and power-hungry. 

Eventually, Hank came down his throat, making Julian choke and sputter before he managed to make himself swallow it. Hank then grabbed the damp towel again and started cleaning his face, put him in some clean clothes, and then sent him back to his room.

Not even a minute later, a new client entered the room.

☾

“Julian! You’re not gonna swim?” 

He looks up from where he’s reading his book, finding Casey in a two-piece swimsuit and a beach ball in hand. The sun has mellowed a bit—it’s early afternoon—but Julian still has his sunglasses on while he relaxes on a lounge chair by the pool.

“Oh, I’m good,” Julian says with a smile, waving his book in the air. “I’m just in the mood for some reading right now.”

“Aw. Was gonna challenge you to a race to see who’s the better swimmer, but I can see you’re too threatened by me.” She winks.

Julian laughs, and then Casey’s off toward the pool where Tommy is. She does an impressive dive, which makes Tommy hoot in support. Not long after, Steven steps out of the house, his skin a shade lighter from the thick layer of sunscreen he’s clearly slathered on. He runs straight to the pool, yelling, “Cannonball!” before causing a massive splash that sends a few drops of water onto Julian’s open book.

He lies back down on the lounge chair, feeling a bit sweaty in his white T-shirt but still not wanting to take it off. He distracts himself by reading again, but it doesn’t work. 

He’s especially distracted when he spots Aaron walking out of the house, a tray of drinks in hand. He immediately looks Julian’s way and smiles.

No matter how many times he does it, Julian always feels his heart skipping a beat. 

His mind flies, thinking back to yesterday, back to that kiss right after Silent Riot’s set at the festival. The smell of sun and grass, loud cheers, fireworks in the distance, Aaron’s scent, the firmness of his lips, the way he’d held Julian’s face. The look in his eyes that made Julian take the leap, that made him make the first move.

It felt like a dream. Still feels like one, to be honest. Julian just keeps waiting to wake up and realize none of it happened, that it was all his imagination, and that he’s just simply fucking insane.  

But it’s real. It’s all real.

They haven’t really talked much about it. Their kiss yesterday was soft and tentative, and it ended too quickly for his liking. When Casey appeared not long after and told them it was time to head back, it felt like the world suddenly began spinning again, and it wasn’t just the two of them anymore.

They didn’t talk about it, but Aaron made it clear they were on good terms. He held Julian’s hand—intertwined fingers and all—pressed soft kisses to his cheek and temple throughout the day, and stayed glued to his side the entire time. They had dinner, and Aaron didn’t look away from him once. When they drove back to Steven’s house, Aaron had one hand on the steering wheel and another on Julian’s thigh. 

There was a time in Julian’s life when he thought he’d die without knowing what it was like to fall in love and be loved in return.

Yet here he is now.

It’s unreal. And frankly, he doesn’t know where to go from here.

The kindest, most handsome man he knows kissed him and said he loved him. He’s never been in this situation in his life. He’s elated and terrified at the same time.

He doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing.

“Lemonade for the handsome gentleman with the book,” Aaron says playfully, placing the tray on the small table nearby before sitting on the side of Julian’s lounge chair. 

“Thank you,” Julian says, taking one of the drinks and sipping from the straw. He hums appreciatively. “This is really good!”

Aaron waves him off. “It’s just your standard lemon and honey, but I’m glad you like it.”

“It’s the right amount of sweet,” Julian says. “I like it.”

Aaron repositions himself until he’s lying right next to Julian. Thankfully, the lounge chair is big enough for both of them. “Whatcha reading?”

Julian holds up the cover so Aaron can see it. “It’s that book you gave me. The one with the short stories.”

Aaron grins. “Oh yeah, the sad ones.”

“They’re not all sad.”

“No, but the best ones are. You only cried once so far, right?”

Julian narrows his eyes. “You were spying on me.”

“I figured if I didn’t say anything, you wouldn’t hide from me next time.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

Julian laughs lightly, staring up at the sky. A few clouds drift lazily overhead. From the pool, a loud splash echoes, followed by Steven’s triumphant yell and Casey’s laughter.

Julian finds himself wishing he could freeze the moment. The sun, the sound of water, the low buzz of conversation and comfort. Aaron beside him, not asking anything of him, not needing him to perform or explain. Just… here.

“Can I ask you something?” Aaron says, voice lower now, more tentative.

Julian glances over. “Sure.”

Aaron hesitates. “You good? With yesterday? With… everything?”

A rush of warmth floods Julian’s chest. He looks away quickly, out toward the pool where Tommy and Steven are fake-arguing over who won their lap. “Yeah. I think I am,” he says honestly. “I mean—this is all a bit new to me. But I don’t regret it. Kissing you, I mean.”

Aaron doesn’t reply right away, but Julian feels the tension in his shoulders loosen.

“Okay,” Aaron says finally. “Good. ‘Cause I don’t regret it either. And I don’t wanna rush anything. Just want you to know I’m in this. However slow it needs to be.”

Julian exhales, a mix of relief and affection tangled up in it. He tilts his head toward Aaron, just enough for their shoulders to press together. 

They sit in silence for a moment, watching the others in the pool. The sun is dipping lower now, the shadows stretching long over the grass. Music drifts faintly from a Bluetooth speaker someone set up on the patio.

Julian closes his eyes for a second and lets it all wash over him.

“By the way,” Aaron says, his voice suddenly tinged with nervousness, “since this is our last day here before we head back, I was thinking we could do something fun.”

Julian opens one eye, then the other, turning slightly to face Aaron. “Oh?” He’s careful not to sound too hopeful. “What kind of fun?”

Aaron shrugs, trying for casual but not quite pulling it off. His eyes are soft, though, and a little mischievous. “Well, we’ve been cooped up in band stuff most of the trip, and the pool is getting all the love today… but there’s this hiking trail nearby Steven told me about. Supposed to lead to a ridge with a killer view of the valley. Sunset would hit just right. I thought maybe… we could go. Just the two of us.”

Julian blinks at him, surprised. Mostly because Aaron looks nervous. Like he’s bracing for a no. And not in the cocky, over-the-top way he sometimes pretends to be insecure. This is real. Aaron is asking to spend time with him, not as part of the group, but just him. Like he actually wants to.

Julian swallows. “Yeah,” he says. “Okay.”

Aaron lights up, that easy, lopsided grin spreading across his face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Julian mirrors his smile, a little shyly. “Sounds… nice.”

Aaron gently bumps his shoulder. “Cool. We’ll head out in a few hours then. I’ll bring snacks.”

Julian laughs. “You planning a hike or a picnic?”

“Why not both?” Aaron says, already standing up and stretching his arms overhead. His shirt rides up just slightly, revealing a bit of skin that makes Julian’s breath catch. Embarrassing. “Anyway, I’m gonna go harass Steven into grilling burgers. You want anything?”

Julian shakes his head, still smiling. “I’m good. Thanks.”

Aaron nods and walks off toward the patio, calling something teasing over his shoulder to Steven, who’s busy toweling his hair by the pool. Tommy and Casey are floating lazily on pool noodles, their feet bumping gently under the water. A dragonfly hovers nearby, darting between patches of sunlight.

Julian sits there a while longer, finishing his lemonade.

He’s not used to this. Not used to being chosen for things. Small things, normal things. A walk, a sunset, a quiet moment with no expectations. It almost makes him uneasy, how easily Aaron gives that to him. No strings, no demands.

But that unease is gentler than the ones he’s used to. This one feels more like a question: can I really have this?

He thinks about the kiss again. About the way Aaron looked at him afterward, like he was made of constellations instead of broken pieces. Like nothing needed fixing. Just holding.

The sun slips lower, the light brushing the water in ribbons of gold and rose. Julian leans his head back and closes his eyes again.

☾

“What’s up?” Emily’s voice sounds a bit tired, but she answered the phone call quickly, so Julian doesn’t think he woke her up. At least he hopes so.

“Hey, so…” Julian scratches at the spot behind his ear, looking around the room he shares with Aaron. Aaron’s still in the bathroom, getting ready for their little hike, while Julian’s already dressed and ready to go. “Um. So, I just wanted to say hi.”

There’s a pause. “Huh. Usually it’s me who’s nagging and calling for no reason and not the other way around. Did something happen?”

Julian bites his lip, looking toward the bathroom door. He can hear Aaron singing inside, slightly muffled. It makes him smile a bit. “Oh, nothing. Nothing bad, at least.”

She gasps. “What do you mean by that?”

He laughs. “I just—I don’t know. I’m just really… happy. I’m very happy I went on this trip with them. Honestly, I don’t know what to do with myself. I’ve just never been this…”

Julian can’t even explain it. He feels light and weightless but in a good way. Like he’s not being weighed down by his thoughts, like his dark thoughts themselves have decided to take it easy on him, at least for today. Since yesterday, he’s been on a high, and he wants it to last forever. Desperately hopes it will.

“Julian,” she says, her voice soft. “I’m so glad to hear that. I know I was reluctant about the whole thing, and I’ll maintain that I had a valid reason for it, but… I am glad you went. You sound… I don’t know. You just sound very young right now. Like when you were a kid and you’d get all teary-eyed because I sneaked in some candies for you.”

“Hey! Haribos were my lifeline back in the day.”

She laughs. “Oh, I miss you. You’ll be back tomorrow, right?”

“Yes. I’ll give you a call when we start driving back.”

“Okay.” She goes quiet for a moment. “I have a surprise for you when you get back.”

Julian sits at the foot of the bed, pinning his phone between his ear and shoulder as he starts putting on his shoes. “Oh? What surprise?”

“It won’t be a surprise if I tell you, dummy.” 

“Well then you shouldn’t have mentioned it, dummy!”

“I was just trying to build suspense,” she says teasingly. “But trust me. You’ll love it. This is also your motivation to make it back home in one piece, completely unharmed.”

He ties his laces. “When you put it like that, I really will have to make sure I get home safely.”

“You better!”

The bathroom door opens, and Aaron walks out with nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips. Water droplets travel down his skin in lazy lines, and Julian quickly looks away, cheeks hot.

Julian clears his throat. “Okay, uh, I’ll update you. I’m off now.”

“Okay, take care!”

“You too.”

As soon as he ends the call, Aaron says, “Was that Em?”

Julian stands and busies himself by checking whether he’s got everything he needs for the hike in the backpack he borrowed from Steven. “Yup. She said she had a surprise for me when I got back.”

Aaron raises a curious brow as he rifles through his duffel. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

Julian zips up the backpack. “She wouldn’t tell me. Said I had to make it home ‘completely unharmed’ if I wanted to find out.”

Aaron grins and pulls a faded black T-shirt over his head, the hem dampening slightly as it grazes his still-wet torso. “Well, good thing I’ve got a top-tier sense of direction. I’ll make sure you don’t trip into a ravine.”

Julian rolls his eyes, but his smile gives him away. “You do know that’s exactly the kind of thing someone says right before they lose cell signal and lead us into the woods forever, right?”

“Okay, rude,” Aaron says, disappearing behind the open closet door. When he reappears, he’s in a pair of washed jeans. He slings his bag over his shoulder. “But if we do get lost, I promise to ration out the trail mix fairly and not eat you until the third day.”

Julian shoves him lightly as they head out of the room. “Survival cannibalism? You’d stoop that low?”

“Can you blame me?” Aaron looks him up and down, his grin mischievous. “You look delicious.”

Julian shoves him again, harder this time, but Aaron’s laugh only grows louder.

They pass through the house and stop by the backyard. Tommy’s at the grill now, flipping what looks like burgers or maybe hot dogs, the smoke wafting lazily in the warm evening air. Casey’s perched on a cooler, sipping from a soda can and laughing at something Steven just said. 

“Heading out?” Steven calls.

“Yeah,” Aaron replies. “Back after sunset.”

“Please don’t fall off a cliff,” Tommy says.

Julian laughs. “We’ll be fine.”

“Aaron!” Casey says loudly, pointing at him threateningly. “Take care of him! Don’t let a single mosquito touch him, you hear me?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Aaron says automatically with a mock salute, while Julian tries to hide his blush with a quick wave goodbye.

They drive for nearly half an hour, and before he knows it, they’re already stepping onto the gravel path that leads to the edge of the woods. The late afternoon sun filters through the trees in hazy streaks, and the air smells like pine and warm dirt.

Julian’s wearing his most comfortable pair of dark joggers and a faded navy T-shirt. It’s soft and loose, and he feels okay in it, not too exposed. His sneakers crunch softly on the trail as they begin walking side by side, the trees swallowing them bit by bit.

After a few minutes, the nearby buildings disappear from view and the trail narrows slightly. Julian breathes in the forest air. It smells clean, almost sweet. The silence between them is comfortable.

They walk a little further in silence, their steps in sync. The trail starts to slope gently upward, and the trees thin out. They can see patches of golden light ahead, glowing brighter as the sun continues to descend.

They reach the top of the ridge maybe 30 minutes later, a wide rocky ledge overlooking the distant hills and tree-covered valleys below. The sky is beginning to turn pink at the edges, streaked with orange and soft purples.

“Wow,” Julian breathes, setting his bag down. “Okay, that’s gorgeous.”

“Told you,” Aaron says, quickly pulling out a blanket from his bag and spreading it out on the flat rock. He sits down, cross-legged. “Perfect spot for a snack and a life talk.”

Julian drops down beside him and takes off the backpack, pulling out a water bottle and some trail mix. “You weren’t kidding about the picnic thing.”

Aaron pulls granola bars and sandwiches from his own bag, offering some to Julian. “Picnic, and maybe even a little light stargazing if we hang out long enough.”

They snack quietly for a bit, Julian sipping water while Aaron finishes his granola bar and leans back on his hands, eyes fixed on the horizon. The view stretches for miles and miles, washed in the amber glow of the setting sun.

Julian glances sideways. “So what about you?”

Aaron looks over. “What about me?”

“How are you feeling? You asked me earlier how I felt about yesterday. But you kissed me too, remember?”

Aaron’s lips curve up slowly. “I definitely remember.”

Julian flushes and kicks lightly at his ankle. “I’m serious.”

Aaron’s smile fades a little, replaced by something softer. “I feel lucky,” he says. “Like—like I’ve been waiting a long time to find someone who makes me feel the way you do. And now that I have, I just want to do it right. I don’t want to screw it up.”

Julian looks away, shaking his head. “You’re not screwing anything up. Trust me.”

They sit quietly again. The sun dips lower, casting a final flare of gold across the valley.

Julian doesn’t know if he’ll ever be someone who finds love easy. But sitting here, beside this boy with sunlight in his hair and kindness in his eyes, he thinks maybe he’ll get there soon enough.

“Thank you,” he says after a moment.

Aaron turns to him. “For what?”

“For being patient with me. For not… pushing.”

He doesn’t say anything to that. In response, Aaron simply takes his hand and intertwines their fingers.

They’re pressed together where they’re seated, from shoulders to hips to thighs, their legs stretched out in front of them. Their fingers are literally tangled with each other, yet Julian doesn’t feel close enough. 

As the sky deepens into the evening and the first stars start to blink through the violet haze, Julian feels more and more restless. They’re sharing such a beautiful moment together, yet for some reason, Julian yearns for something more. For something closer.

He bites his bottom lip, thinking hard.

“You okay?” Aaron asks, because of course he notices Julian’s sudden silence.

“I have a question,” Julian decides to say.

“Okay. Shoot.”

Julian sits up a bit straighter. What’s important is honesty, right? Julian has no idea how this works. So he decides that his best bet is to just say what he’s thinking and hope for the best. 

“Wanna make out?”

Aaron chokes on his water and coughs hard enough that he nearly spills the rest of his bottle, wheezing and thumping his chest as Julian watches, half-concerned and half-amused.

After a second, Julian reaches over and pats his back. “Don’t die on me.”

Aaron clears his throat a few more times before finally managing a breathy, “Jesus Christ.”

Julian ducks his head, his cheeks pink. “It was just a question.”

Aaron stares at him, eyes wide, like he’s still trying to process if this is real or a particularly cruel hallucination brought on by dehydration.

Then he runs a hand through his hair and says, “Jules, I… seriously?”

Julian fidgets with the hem of his shirt, but he doesn’t look away. “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

Aaron’s voice is gentler now, but still careful. “You don’t have to do anything just because we’re here or because it feels like a moment. I don’t want to push you, okay?”

“I know.” Julian meets his gaze. “And you’re not.”

There’s a pause. Julian’s heart is pounding, but not in the panicked way it used to when anyone got too close. This is different. His nerves are still there, coiled under his skin, but the fear isn’t loud. It’s quiet. Barely there.

“I just… I want to,” Julian says, quieter now. “I want you. I want to get closer to you. That’s the simple truth.”

Aaron swallows hard. He hesitates, and then, “I want that, too. God, if you only knew…”

For a moment they just sit there, staring at each other. He hears nothing but the soft rustling of leaves all around them and his own breathing. 

“So… is that a yes?” Julian tries for a teasing smirk.

Aaron sighs. “Is it possible to even say no to you?”

Playfully, Julian says, “Well, I’d like to see you try.”

Aaron nods, almost to himself. Then, he leans in, slow and cautious. Julian’s impatient—he closes the gap, catching Aaron’s mouth with his own. It’s tentative again, like yesterday, but they’re both more sure now. Julian tilts his head, fitting better against Aaron, and Aaron sighs against his lips, hand finding Julian’s knee and resting there gently.

Julian shivers—not from cold but from the weight of that hand, the way it grounds him.

He deepens the kiss, just a little. Tests the waters.

Aaron stills.

Julian pulls back, immediately searching his face. “Too much?”

Aaron shakes his head. “No. Not too much. I just… I’m trying to be careful. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re not,” Julian whispers, thumb brushing the corner of Aaron’s mouth. “I’ll say stop if I want to stop. I promise.”

That seems to unlock something in Aaron. He exhales slowly, nods once, then cups Julian’s face and kisses him like he’s been holding back for months.

Because maybe he has.

It’s different this time—needier. They shift on the blanket they spread across the stone, their knees bumping, hands moving clumsily at first, then with more purpose. Aaron’s fingers slip under the hem of Julian’s shirt, just enough to graze skin, and Julian makes a sound against his mouth, soft and helpless.

Aaron kisses down the edge of Julian’s jaw, then nips lightly at his throat before pulling back, looking flushed and a little breathless. “Okay?”

Julian nods, chest rising and falling quickly. “God, yes.”

They lie back, Aaron hovering above him but careful not to press down too much, one hand braced beside Julian’s head. Their legs tangle, and Julian slides a hand up Aaron’s back, pulling him down into another kiss. This one is messier. Hungrier.

Aaron groans quietly, like he’s losing control of his restraint. Julian can feel it in the way his body moves, in the way his lips part against his own, in the hand that’s gripping his waist a little tighter now.

Julian’s fingers wind into Aaron’s hair, and for the first time in what feels like forever, he doesn’t flinch when someone touches him like this. He doesn’t feel like scratching his skin off. He leans into Aaron’s touch, into his warmth, wants everything he has to offer. Wants more.

Aaron breaks the kiss just long enough to rest his forehead against Julian’s, both of them panting quietly.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmurs.

Julian nods again, whispering, “I will. I swear.”

They stay like that for a long while—kissing, touching, breathing each other in. There’s no rush. It’s so different from what Julian knows, and he can’t get enough of it. Can’t get enough of the warmth, of the feeling of Aaron’s skin against his.

At this moment, it’s just heat, Aaron’s scent, the slight scratch of his stubble against Julian’s skin, Aaron’s dark eyes peering down at him in the fading light.

It’s perfect.

By the time they stop—when the sky is properly dark and the stars are bright and shameless above them—Julian’s lips are swollen, his heart feels like it’s made of helium, and Aaron is lying beside him with a dazed little smile that Julian never wants to stop seeing.

Neither of them says anything for a while.

Then Aaron turns to him and says, “I think that was the best hike I’ve ever been on.”

Julian laughs loudly, still catching his breath. “You probably haven’t been on many hikes in your life, then.”

“See, but it’s different with you,” Aaron tells him. Unexpectedly, he nips at Julian’s neck, making him gasp in surprise. “There’s a special reward for me when you’re here.”

Julian hums, still grinning as he lets his eyes drift shut. “So that’s what I am to you? A reward?”

Aaron pulls away a bit, looking down at him. “Sure. And I’m your reward, too.” His smile turns teasing. “And if memory serves me right, you were thoroughly enjoying your reward just a few minutes ago.”

“You’re so annoying.”

“Not annoying enough to not kiss, am I right?”

“Regretting it already.”

“You lie,” Aaron says, curling his fingers gently around Julian’s hand, threading them together. “You like me. You really, really like me.”

Julian rolls his eyes but doesn’t pull away. Aaron’s thumb moves over the back of his hand in slow circles. Aaron’s voice softens. “You don’t have to be anything right now, by the way. I’m only teasing. You don’t have to say anything you’re not ready to. I’m happy just being here with you.”

That softens something in Julian. Aaron has always been so incredibly open to him, so transparent. He wears his heart on his sleeve and tells Julian exactly how he feels. He literally told Julian that he loved him. That’s how honest and true this man is.

It’s only fair that Julian tries to do the same for him. 

“I do like you,” Julian says quietly. “A lot. And I feel… really safe when I’m with you. And that’s not something I say lightly.”

Aaron smiles, and Julian swears the tips of his ears go red. Before he can point it out and tease him for it, Aaron leans in, kissing the corner of his mouth so gently it makes Julian ache. “You’re always safe with me, Jules. I promise you that.”

Julian doesn’t say anything in return—he just pulls him in for another kiss.

Chapter Text

Something shifts between Julian and Aaron after spending time wrapped up in each other in the woods under the stars, as cliche as that sounds. They didn’t go past kissing and some heavy petting, but Julian supposes it was enough for Aaron to stop overthinking his every move. It was enough for Aaron to be more comfortable touching Julian now, without worrying that he was crossing some kind of invisible line.

It was enough for Aaron to treat him a more like a normal person—like Julian wasn’t just some weak, breakable thing.

“You in the mood for waffles or pancakes?” Aaron asks, sticking his head into the bathroom. He woke up earlier than Julian, so he’s all washed up and bright-eyed, ready for the day.

Meanwhile, Julian stands in front of the sink, staring at his sleep-rumpled appearance and weirdly bloated face as he brushes his teeth. It’s the type of look he gets when he manages to sleep somewhat decently. 

“Waffles,” Julian says after a moment, the word a bit unclear since he’s got a toothbrush in his mouth, but Aaron understands him all the same. 

Aaron steps into the bathroom, hovering behind him with a smile—a smile that says he’s somewhat amused by something Julian did or thinks Julian’s being particularly cute. 

“Coming right up.” Aaron leans in quickly, dropping a peck on his cheek. “You want orange juice with that?”

He puts away his toothbrush. “Uh, coffee’s better, I think.” He clears his throat, the skin where Aaron’s lips touched him feeling warm and tingly. “Thank you.”

“Gotcha.” With one last grin, Aaron walks back out of the bathroom, whistling lazily. 

Julian just stands there with a frozen half-smile, finding his cheeks slightly pink in the mirror. Even as he takes a shower, all he thinks about is Aaron. Thinks about how the last few days have been nothing but Aaron being ridiculously sweet, Aaron touching him and kissing him all over, Aaron being so loud and unapologetic about just… loving Julian.

It’s been two days since they got home from their trip to the Echo Valley Fest, and a small part of Julian was worried that whatever had transpired between him and Aaron there would disappear once they got home. But boy was he wrong.

If anything, Aaron just got worse. But in a good way. Julian never realized it before, but Aaron is a super touchy guy. Maybe Aaron has been actively holding back from being too tactile with Julian in the beginning because he was worried about how Julian would react to it, but now that Julian has basically opened the door for all the touching and kissing and whatnot, Aaron has gone all in.

Julian’s not complaining at all.

When Julian finally emerges from the bathroom, Aaron is still in the kitchen, the sound of his humming blending in with the sound of clanking pans and utensils. Julian heads for his room, pulling his robe tight around his body. 

He gets dressed in a comfy pair of bottoms and a long-sleeved shirt and decides that he might as well fix his room. He still hasn’t properly unpacked the stuff he brought to the music festival, so he gets started on it.

As he’s pulling out his plastic bag of dirty clothes from his bag, he spots the gun Emily had given him. For some reason, the sight of it makes him freeze, instantly dampening his mood.

Swallowing, he reaches for it. Feels how cold it is, how heavy it weighs in his hand. He’s thankful he didn’t have to use it at all, but the fact that it’s still here—the fact that he even needs it at all—is such a strong reminder that there are still parts of his life that can’t be normal no matter how hard he tries.

With a sigh, Julian makes sure the gun’s safety is on before placing it in the drawer of his bedside table. He quickly unpacks his stuff, and then heads for the kitchen.

Julian and Aaron share the table as they eat breakfast, sitting side by side. Their thighs press together as Aaron talks about his upcoming engineering exam—the one he has to take to get his license.

“I’ll have to take a leave from work,” Aaron says, sighing. He stirs his cup of coffee and takes a sip. “I’ve been studying for it for so long, I honestly just want to get it over with.”

“Will it take long?”

“The exam? Couple of hours. But it’ll be done in a day.” 

Julian looks at the coffee table in their living room, filled with stacks of books and post-its and notebooks. Frankly, Julian has never felt more stupid than when he looked at the contents of those things. “You’ve worked so hard. You’ll do well for sure.”

Aaron groans lightly. “I’m a bit stressed, to be honest. If I fail, I’ll have to retake the test again. I want to get my license now so I can get an engineering job, you know? Something that pays well. Don’t get me wrong—working at Caffeinated is great. But I don’t really plan to be a barista forever.”

Julian thinks Aaron is the smartest, most hardworking person he’s ever met. He timidly reaches for Aaron’s hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. “I think whatever you end up doing, you’ll be great at it. I guess it’s just a matter of choosing what you love the most, since you’ll be good at anything anyway.”

He slowly smiles, looking at Julian in a way that makes his stomach twist. In a good way. “You think so?”

“I’m never wrong about these things. I can just tell. People just give off this kind of… aura, I guess. And yours is just pure light. I think you’re the type of person to attract great things in life, as karma, I guess. Because you’re such a good person.”

Aaron lifts their joined hands, carefully pressing a kiss to the back of Julian’s hand. “I guess you’re right. Since I attracted you, right?”

Huffing out a laugh, Julian looks away from his intense gaze, shaking his head. “Please. I’m probably the only questionable thing in your life.”

Deep down, Julian still thinks Aaron deserves much better than him. He knows this, but he’s too selfish to care. Too attached to even think about voluntarily pulling away from Aaron, about letting him meet someone else—someone better. Just the thought of it keeps him up at night. 

But Julian never claimed to be a good person. Right now, he’s someone who’s not entirely sure how to function in the world again. He has no dreams. He has no goals. He’s lost and directionless. He only has a few certainties in his life, and one of them is Aaron. 

He wants Aaron. Wants him to stay by his side, to continue showering him with warmth and affection, wants him to continue loving Julian even if Julian himself can’t properly sort through his own emotions just yet. He wants Aaron’s comfort and familiarity, wants the safety he has to offer. 

A better person would distance themselves from Aaron, knowing they’re not good for him. Unfortunately, Julian isn’t that person. Julian just wants and wants and Aaron gives—he can’t turn away from that. He just can’t.

“I’ll tell you this again, because clearly, you need to be reminded,” Aaron says, firmly but not unkindly. It makes Julian clamp his mouth shut. “You’re the strongest person I know. It’s so easy being with you. My past relationships… let’s just say they were all very shallow. I liked them, yeah, but I didn’t have any real connections with them.” He pauses, eyes boring into Julian’s. “You’re the first one to make me feel like maybe some people are meant for each other. I don’t know how to explain it. I just… I have this weird belief that we were always meant to meet, you know? It’s like, turn the entire world upside down, and I would still find my way to you. No matter what.”

Julian sits there, looking at him, his hand engulfed by Aaron’s larger one. His chest feels heavy—filled with some kind of emotion Julian can’t even put a name to. That’s Aaron’s specialty, after all. He likes to tilt Julian’s entire world on its axis with his words, even with a single touch. 

He doesn’t know if he’ll ever get used to how perfect this man is. 

For a split second, he thinks of saying something vulnerable. Of opening up the same way Aaron has been this entire time. But something holds him back. Instead, he says, “You are crazy eloquent for a math major, did you know that?”

Aaron guffaws—a loud, uncontrolled laugh bursting out of him. He takes Julian’s face in between his palms, pressing a firm kiss to Julian’s smiling lips. “I fucking love you.”

Without another word, Aaron stands and starts clearing up the table. He goes to the sink and carries on with his day like he hasn’t just turned Julian’s chest into a mangled mess. 

I love you, too, Julian wants to say. I don’t think I’ve ever loved anyone the way I love you—and I never will again.

Instead, Julian doesn’t say a single word as they get into the car. He stays silent as Aaron drives him to Side A, letting Aaron talk nonstop about some funny customer stories at the cafe. 

When they arrive at the record shop, Julian turns to him. He feels like crying, for some reason. Quietly, he says, “Thank you, Aaron.”

It’s a loaded statement. It’s a thank you for driving Julian to work every day, for joining him for lunch every day, for picking him up every day. For making sure Julian’s safe. For taking him to the music festival and giving him a few days of pure bliss. For not giving up on Julian. For touching him like he’s not dirty. For not expecting too much. For loving Julian despite everything.

Aaron probably hears it in his voice. His face softens. “Anything for you, Jules.”

Julian leans in, stealing another kiss. It’s just supposed to be a sweet peck, but Aaron keeps him in place, deepening the kiss. He sucks on Julian’s lower lip, and Julian just sits there, kissing him back with just as much fervor. 

Aaron is the first to pull away, though it looks like it pains him to do so. They’re still pressed close together, though, lips only a breath apart. “Okay. Um. We’re gonna be late for work.”

“Right.” 

“I might get stuck in traffic.”

“Yeah.” Julian looks at Aaron’s lips again. “Um. That would suck.”

“Totally.”

“Tommy might fire you.”

“He actually might.”

They stare at each other, faces still incredibly close together that Julian feels his every breath. There’s a moment of silence when all he can hear is their quiet breathing in the car, and then Aaron clenches his jaw. “Fuck it.”

He leans back in, and they end up kissing for another fifteen minutes. When Julian finally steps out of the car, his legs feel like jelly and he’s certain his entire face is red. His lips must look insanely red, too. He also likely has beard burn all over the lower half of his face from Aaron’s stubble, but who fucking cares? Julian’s so giddy he feels like he could start floating like a balloon at any moment, floating higher and higher until he just disappears into the sky.

“Bye,” Julian says even though he knows Aaron can’t hear him from inside the shop. Still, Aaron waves at him through the window, finally driving away now that he knows Julian is safely inside.

The rest of his shift goes by like it does every day, but sometime near noon, Officer Joss enters the record shop. Julian hasn’t exchanged more than a few polite words with him, so he’s a bit surprised to see him. Usually, he sits outside in his cruiser—quiet and inconspicuous—so the first thing Julian thinks of is that there must be trouble. 

“Is everything okay, Officer Joss?” Julian’s voice betrays a slight panic.  

“Oh, yes, yes,” Officer Joss says with a slight laugh, stopping in front of Julian’s checkout counter. He reminds him of Officer Amak a bit—they have the same authoritative yet fatherly vibe to them. “I didn’t mean to get you concerned. I just came in to look for a birthday gift for my son.”

“Oh.” Julian laughs a bit, letting himself relax. “Of course.”

“He’s in that phase, you know?” Joss leans in like they’re sharing a secret. “He’s turning sixteen. He’s really into vinyl records these days, likes to collect them.”

“Is there any specific artist that he likes?”

“Not sure about specific artists, but he’s into the 80s sound.”

“Oh, of course.” Julian steps out from behind the counter and starts leading Joss to one of the shelves. “This is our 80s section. Maybe he’d like some of these?”

He spends about half an hour talking with him. At first, he mostly just helps Joss pick some records, but they eventually get to chatting. Joss tells him more about his son, and then some things about his work at the station. Surprisingly, Julian finds himself enjoying Joss’ company. It’s a nice change from when Julian would spend the entire day exchanging a few perfunctory words with customers and nothing else.

“Ah, thank you so much for your help,” Joss says as Julian scans the records at the register. “I hope I picked the right ones.”

“I’m sure he’ll love them, Officer.”

He waves him off. “Just call me Joss, son. No need for these formalities.”

Julian puts the vinyl records in a bag and hands it over. “Oh—um, of course, Joss.”

Joss thanks him again, and then he leaves the shop to sit in his cruiser again. Since it’s almost noon, he’ll probably be off soon. Sighing, Julian checks his phone and is immediately met with several text messages from Aaron.

It’s just the usual stream-of-consciousness texts he always gets. Random stuff like how he saw someone trip outside, and some sneakily-taken photos of Tommy that are particularly unflattering.

Aaron: Tommy is genuinely thinking about firing me. I was only SIX minutes late. Wtf…

Julian looks around, sees that there are no customers, and decides to text back. 

Julian: I think you’re skipping over the fact that this is the third consecutive day that you were late?

Aaron: The other days were because there was traffic, but this morning? We both know whose fault that was. I was CORNERED in my car.

Julian muffles his laugh. 

Julian: Oh? I don’t remember this happening at all.

Aaron: Jules, I was brutally attacked. Seduced. Absolutely helpless to this boy’s stupidly pretty mouth. You need to help me find him so I can report him to the authorities ASAP.

Julian: You know, I think I saw him here. You should come get him before he gets away :P

A group of guys enter, the bell chiming above the door. They’re laughing loudly, making a bit of a fuss. 

Aaron: I know. I’m already on my way there ;)

Julian checks the time. It’s almost his lunch break, meaning Aaron will be here with their food soon.

“Hey.”

He looks up at the voice, finding one of the guys who entered standing in front of him. He’s most likely a college boy—they get a lot of them in the area. 

Julian puts his phone away. “Hi. Can I help you with anything?”

The guy leans his elbows on the counter, smirking. “Just wondering if you were up for getting a drink with me sometime.”

Julian blinks but doesn’t have much of a reaction aside from that. There’s been a few customers who have hit on him since he started, and there’s not really anything he can do about it. Luckily, they back off when Julian tells them he’s not interested, so he isn’t really bothered by it too much anymore.

He offers a small, apologetic smile “Oh, thank you. But I think I’m gonna pass.”

The guy laughs a bit. “C’mon. Give me your number, at least.”

“Sorry, I’m really not interested.”

“Just one drink, yeah? It’ll be fun.”

Julian smiles again, stiffer this time. “No, thank you.”

The guy chuckles again, a little incredulous, like Julian’s the one being unreasonable here. Behind him, his friends are still loitering near the shelves, not even pretending to look at the records, just watching and snickering.

The guy glances back at his friends, then returns his smirk to Julian. “Wow. You this uptight with everyone, or am I just the lucky one?”

Julian’s patience wavers. His jaw tenses. “Look, I’m at work. I’d appreciate it if you just bought what you came for and left.”

“Look,” he says slowly, that infiltrating smirk still plastered on his face, “I just figured you’d be down, since you were giving me that look earlier.”

Julian’s brows draw together. “What look?”

“You know…” His eyes trail down in a way that makes Julian’s skin crawl. “Like you wanted me to come over.”

Julian steps back slightly from the counter, stiff. “Okay, that’s enough.”

“Relax,” the guy says, his tone dropping into something vaguely patronizing. “You don’t have to play hard to get. I’m just saying you’re hot, babe. Take the compliment.”

His friends chuckle, one of them hooting teasingly. They’re all just standing around. Maybe they never even planned to buy anything in the first place. 

He takes a deep breath. Reminds himself that he’s dealt with much worse assholes than this immature little boy. “I think you and your friends should leave now.”

But the guy doesn’t move. If anything, he leans in a little more, tilting his head to the side. “You sure you work here? Doesn’t really seem like you’re trying to serve customers.”

Julian’s hands tighten under the counter, making sure his expression stays carefully neutral. He knows this game—push until someone cracks. Make them uncomfortable, then act like they’re the ones overreacting. Julian doesn’t want to give him a reaction, so he just stands there, arms crossed over his chest. 

“You’re really not gonna give me your number?” the guy pushes, leaning even closer now, voice lower, almost mockingly soft. He looks Julian up and down. “Not even for later? I could make it worth your time.”

The other boys behind him start snickering and murmuring among themselves again, and Julian is seriously done with this. “I said no thanks. Do you want to buy a record or did you just come here to embarrass yourself for free?”

Just then, the bell above the door rings again. Julian looks up. It’s Aaron. The relief hits him instantly, tension easing from his shoulders.

“Feisty.” The guy grins. “I like it. Will you give me your name, at least? My name’s Corey.”

Julian’s not even paying attention to him anymore. He’s looking at Aaron, who’s carrying a paper bag, hair looking windswept. Aaron meets his eyes across the room, and Julian gives him a tight smile.

“Hey, look at me when I’m talking to you,” the guy Corey says, clearly miffed. Then he has the fucking gall to reach over the counter, gripping Julian’s chin in his hand to turn it toward him.

Taken aback, Julian quickly slaps his hand away. “What the fuck? Don’t touch me.”

Corey lifts his hands as though in surrender, but he’s grinning, and his friends are laughing again. “Look, just give me your number—”

Aaron’s voice suddenly cuts through the commotion, steady but sharp. “What’s going on here?”

Corey looks over his shoulder, his smile dimming a bit as he looks Aaron up and down. No doubt he thinks Aaron has arrived to put an end to all the fun he and his friends are having. “It’s none of your business, man.”

At this point, Julian drags a hand down his face, exasperated. These stupid fucking boys. They won’t listen to Julian, won’t leave even if he tells them too, but he guesses they might listen to Aaron. Aaron, who’s taller and bigger than them, and who’s currently got a serious look on his face—one that would make anyone think twice about what they’re saying, especially a bunch of immature college boys.

Aaron walks over to them, back straight and expression unreadable. He stops right next to Corey in front of the counter. He places the paper bag on the counter with a firm thud, meeting Julian’s eyes again.

You okay? he seems to ask.

Julian gives him a single nod, pursing his lips. Aaron must be able to tell that Julian is clearly bothered if his sour expression and stiff posture are anything to go by. Plus, he just saw this random guy touch Julian’s face a second ago.

Without another word, Aaron turns to Corey, looking down at him. He has a good few inches on the guy. “You want something, kid?”

This makes Corey’s friends chuckle, letting out a chorus of teasing ooooohs. Meanwhile, Corey takes a step away from Aaron, scoffing. “Who the hell even are you? 

“I’m his boyfriend.”

Aaron says it so easily, so casually, as though he didn’t even have to think about it for a single second. It sets Julian’s face aflame, and he has to fight back a satisfied smile.

Corey looks at Aaron, then Julian, eyes widening a bit. Takes another step back. “Pfft. You could’ve told me that,” he directs this at Julian. Then, he looks back at Aaron, his bravado rapidly disappearing. Clearly, he’s intimidated by Aaron. His friends could probably tell as well, because their laughter only gets louder. Corey says, “Hey man, tell your boyfriend not to give people flirty looks, then. I was out here minding my own business. He’s the one who looked like he wanted me.”

Julian looks down, avoiding Aaron’s gaze. Something like shame curls up in his gut. He’s heard it plenty of times before—he just has that look to him. The type of look that tells people he’s easy. That he’s a slut. That he likes guys. That he’s just fucking begging for it. His features don’t help, either. He’s been described as having “cock-sucking lips” plenty of times before. 

He’s been hearing it since he was sixteen.

And he doesn’t really know what Aaron thinks about all that. Does he think Julian really goes out of his way to seduce guys? Does he think Julian has gotten so used to being a whore that he still does it today, whether unconsciously or not, even though he doesn’t have to?

There’s a reason he attracts a particular breed of men, after all. Is he really blameless? 

Corey goes on. “So, whatever man.” He throws Julian a look, like he suddenly finds him disgusting. “Not even fucking worth it.”

“Let’s just go, dude,” one of his friends says, seemingly bored now. They head to the door, moving in that lazy, forced-cool way young guys like to do. Corey steps away from the counter, giving Julian another lascivious look. He goes to follow his friends, but Aaron grabs his arm. If Corey’s yelp of pain is anything to go by, Aaron’s grip on him must be painful.

Julian’s surprised by this. Frankly, he just wants these idiots gone so they can have their lunch. Aaron doesn’t seem to think the same thing, though. Even though his face is blank, his jaw is clenched, and there’s a dark look in his eyes Julian hasn’t seen in a while.

“Apologize to him.”

Corey blinks, then laughs, if a little unsure. “Dude, I didn’t even do anything—”

“You were harassing him for who knows how long, and you touched him.” Aaron stands straighter, voice dangerously calm. “You might’ve gotten used to getting away with being an asshole elsewhere, but here, you need to apologize.”

“Again, I didn’t even—” 

“Do you want to get your ass handed to you in front of your little fan club?” His other hand shoots out to grip the front of Corey’s shirt, yanking him threateningly. They all know he’s fucking serious. Aaron glances at Corey’s friends, who are hovering by the door, watching.

Corey scoffs again, but he’s clearly surprised by the turn of events. He glances at his friends, at Aaron’s tall figure, and then Julian. He seems to make a decision then. 

He clenches his jaw, saying the words through gritted teeth. “Fine. Hey, look. I’m sorry for pushing. You’re hot and I wanted to… you know. But you have a boyfriend. So.” He turns back to Aaron. “There. Happy?”

For a moment, Aaron just continues to stare him down, his grip on him unwavering. His arm muscles bunch up, like he’s getting ready to move, and Aaron still looks furious. Julian can see it in his eyes. 

There’s a second where Julian is a hundred percent sure Aaron will punch this guy in the face, maybe even seriously beat him up until he’s bruised and bloody. It makes Julian tense, his heart pounding. 

Don’t. Please.

Aaron glances at Julian, and whatever he sees there makes him let go of Corey. However, it looks like it’s against his will to do so. He shoves Corey away aggressively, breathing heavily. “Get the fuck out of here.”

Corey doesn’t need to be told twice. He practically trips over his own feet to get out the store, the rest of his friends running off with him. Their laughter echoes in the parking lot, and then they’re gone.

What a bunch of fucking children. 

Julian sighs. Pinches the bridge of his nose. “Thought they’d never leave.”

He looks at Aaron and finds him staring out the store, eyes trained on the parking lot through the glass window. Corey and his friends aren’t there anymore, but Aaron’s looking at the empty lot like he’s imagining running them over with his car. His jaw is still clenched when he turns to Julian, and honestly, he still looks mad.

“What else did that guy do?” he asks, serious.

Julian waves him off. “He was just persistent. Told him I didn’t want to give him my number, and you know how some guys get.”

“He touched you.”

“Just the one you saw,” Julian says, feeling the need to clarify. “He didn’t do anything serious. He was just annoying, really.”

Aaron nods, but he says nothing. He’s clearly deep in thought, and Julian’s not really sure how to go about it. It’s a bit odd. Julian didn’t really think the whole thing was that serious. 

Eventually, Julian and Aaron take their usual spot on the log nestled in the grassy patch next to the narrow river. The sky is overcast, saving them from having to sit in the heat. Today, Aaron brought them Indian food for lunch. Julian happily digs into his fish curry, while Aaron sits there, staring at the food on his lap. Still silent.

Julian nudges him lightly. “What’s up?”

Aaron smiles a bit, shaking his head. “It’s dumb.”

“It’s making you upset, so it’s not dumb. You can tell me.”

Aaron looks out toward the river, pensive. Then, carefully, he says, “I wanted to punch that stupid kid so fucking bad.”

Julian promptly chokes on his food, followed by a coughing fit. Aaron hands him a bottle of water, rubbing his back soothingly until Julian can breathe properly again. 

“It wasn’t that funny,” Aaron grumbles.

“I’m sorry—” Julian laughs again. “I don’t know why that was so funny to me. Um. So you’re upset because of that?”

Aaron looks down at his hands. He turns his thumb over his knuckles like he’s checking for bruises that aren’t there.

“I’m upset because I didn’t.”

Julian goes quiet.

Aaron shrugs, but the motion’s tight. “It’s like… he touched you. He wouldn’t back off. And I just stood there like some well-behaved fucking golden retriever while he smirked and walked out like he won.”

Julian sets down his food. “You didn’t stand there. You scared the shit out of him.”

“Not enough,” Aaron mutters. “He still walked out laughing.”

“So what, you wish you’d hit him? Broken his nose and gotten arrested or something?”

Aaron lets out a breath. “I wish I could’ve done something that felt like it was enough.”

There’s a beat of silence—just the sound of the water moving, soft and steady.

Then Julian says, quieter, “It was enough.” He puts a hand on Aaron’s thigh, drawing small circles with his thumb. “You know one of the things I like the most about you? You’re kind and smart. You don’t automatically turn to violence. You understand that not everything needs to be met with violence.” His voice cracks. “And… I’ve seen too much of it, anyway.”

Aaron throws an arm over his shoulders, pulling him in closer. 

“I mean it,” Julian adds. “You were calm. You protected me. You didn’t do something reckless. And now you get to eat samosas like a free man, not from jail.”

Aaron finally picks up his fork, chuckling. “I guess I’d miss Indian food in jail.”

“You mean you’d miss me.”

“Yeah. That too.”

They go back to eating. The river keeps flowing. The clouds hold off the sun. Julian finishes his meal, putting it away. He plays with his water bottle for a moment, watching as Aaron eats.

“Earlier,” Julian starts, not really sure where he’s going with this, “you called me your… um, your boyfriend.”

Aaron looks at him, curious. “I did.”

“Did you…” He starts playing with the hem of his shirt. “Did you only say that to get them to back off?”

Julian is kind of fixated on that little detail. Boyfriend. It just sounds… well, it sounds like something he only used to dream of. He just needs to know that he and Aaron are on the same page, that’s all.

Aaron looks at him, his gaze piercing. Julian sits there, refusing to look away. Then, without a word, Aaron lifts a hand and cups the side of Julian’s face. He presses a soft, gentle kiss to the corner of Julian’s mouth. To his cheek. Then he kisses Julian on the lips, firm yet careful. Warm and thorough. Julian practically melts in his arms, letting Aaron lead, giving him whatever he wants.

When Aaron pulls away, he looks serious. “I realize I never officially asked. I’m sorry. I’d love to call you my boyfriend. Do you feel the same, Jules?”

This time, it’s Julian who steals another kiss. Their lips glide against each other, hot and soft. Fuck. Julian loves kissing him.

“Duh,” Julian says, lips feeling sore. “Of course. I’d be crazy to say no.”

Aaron grins. “I agree. I’m a catch.”

“Mhm.”

“This is your dream come true, isn’t it? To have your real-life prince charming. Someone so sexy and handsome, so perfect—”

Julian groans, playfully pushing his face away. “Why do you always have to be so insufferable.”

Aaron laughs, pulling Julian back to press another kiss to his lips. “Just wanted to make you laugh.”

And Julian does laugh. He smiles and laughs whenever he’s with this idiot. Julian says nothing—just dives in for another kiss, practically on Aaron’s lap at this point. The kiss goes from slow and sensual to intense and dirty, then back to slow, then Aaron bites his lower lip, running his palms all over Julian’s body. 

Julian’s head spins. His insides melt. Aaron holds him together, keeping him whole.

When they finally part, Julian’s cheeks are warm. He exhales a little laugh. “This was supposed to be lunch.”

“We’re multitasking.”

Julian leans his head on Aaron’s shoulder. “I can’t believe I get to call you my boyfriend.”

Aaron smiles. “You better call me that. Loudly. In public. Around that Corey jackass.”

He lightly slaps his arm. “Oh my god, forget about that Corey guy.”

“I still really want to break that fucker’s nose.”

Julian laughs, loud and unapologetic. It’s drowned out by the sound of the moving river. Aaron pulls him in for another kiss, and Julian goes willingly, offering everything he has. Aaron offers just as much.

☾

The TV, playing their favorite cooking show, sits forgotten across the room. The couch groans as Aaron shifts on top of him, adjusting his position so he’s not putting too much weight on Julian. Julian spreads his legs more so Aaron can comfortably settle there, wrapping his arms around Aaron’s broad back.

He throws his head to the side with a soft sigh as Aaron starts placing wet kisses on the hinge of his jaw, his neck, all the way down to his collarbones. Julian presses his lips together in a tight line in an effort to keep quiet, but Aaron notices.

“I want to hear you,” Aaron says, his voice deep and rough. He nuzzles into the side of Julian’s face, his breath hot against Julian’s ear. “Let me hear you, baby.”

Julian tightens his legs around Aaron’s waist, grabbing Aaron by the hair and pulling him up to kiss him on the mouth. Aaron groans into the kiss, and the sound makes goosebumps rise all over Julian’s skin.

Fuck. Suddenly, Julian’s pajama pants and T-shirt feel too suffocating. They’re both way too overdressed for this. Whose idea was it to invent clothes? What’s the point of them?

“Aaron…” Julian pants, his entire body feeling incredibly hot. He feels sweat on his back because he’s basically been glued to the couch for a while now, blanketed by Aaron’s body—always running hot like a furnace.

Aaron slips his tongue into Julian’s mouth, and it’s messy and hot, and Julian can only lie there and take it, the skin around his face rubbed raw by Aaron’s stubble. Julian suppresses a whimper as Aaron lowers himself so that he’s practically pressing Julian into the couch again. As he does this, Julian feels Aaron’s hardness press against his, and it makes him gasp loudly.

“Fuck,” Aaron grunts, pulling away to look at Julian. Aaron’s all sweaty, his hair plastered to his forehead, and he’s practically radiating heat. “That feel good?”

“Do it again,” Julian demands, looking up at him. He shifts a bit, needing to get closer, but he can’t really do much in his position. “Please. Please. Do it again, Aaron.”

Aaron stares at him, eyes dark and cheeks red. He does this sinful thing he loves doing—panting open-mouthed against Julian’s lips, close but not close enough to kiss. It drives Julian insane. Julian makes a sound—not unlike a whine—and Aaron smirks.

“Aaron,” Julian says, annoyed and turned on at the same time. “I swear to fucking—”

“Okay, okay.” Aaron chuckles. He brings a hand up, brushing away a few strands of hair from Julian’s face. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Julian shifts again, impatient. Tries to get closer. “I know that.”

Aaron raises an eyebrow. He looks so fucking hot. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” Julian lifts his head, desperate, pressing a kiss to the corner of Aaron’s mouth. “Will you make me come?”

There’s that mischievous glint in Aaron’s eyes again. He just smiles, eyes trailing all over Julian. He swears he can feel them all over his skin like a pair of hands.

“Okay.”

Finally, mercifully, Aaron lowers his body again, resting his forearms flat on either side of Julian’s face. He kisses and licks at Julian’s neck, and then he brings his hips down so their hard-ons grind against each other.

“Oh my god…” Julian moans, hands flying up to grip Aaron’s shoulders. “More. More, Aaron.”

Julian spreads his legs even more, and they fucking hump each other like a pair of hormonal teenagers. Julian doesn’t try to suppress his moans—he’s loud, and he’s distantly embarrassed by it, but it feels so good that he doesn’t care. Fuck their neighbors. Aaron says he wants to hear him, so that’s all Julian cares about.

They go at it for a few good minutes—Aaron grinding into him, and the friction against Julian’s dick sends white-hot pleasure zipping up his spine. Julian lies there, mouth hanging open, and Aaron just stares down at him with those dark eyes. Hungry.

“Can you come like this?” Aaron asks in between pants. 

Julian takes a few seconds to respond. “Probably. Uh, I think.”

Then, without any warning whatsoever, Aaron brings his hand down and presses his open palm to Julian’s cock. Even through his boxers and pajama pants, Julian can feel the heat of his hand, and he moans again.

“This okay?”

“Yes,” Julian hisses, impatient. “Please. Please, Aaron.”

Aaron dips back in for a filthy kiss, and then he yanks Julian’s pajamas and boxers in one go with one hand. Then, he wraps a hand around Julian, making him gasp in pleasure.

“There you go.” Aaron’s voice is low, eyes boring into Julian’s as he pumps his hand up and down. 

Julian feels it when Aaron swipes at his tip with his thumb, spreading Julian’s precome all over his dick so there’s a smoother glide. Aaron closes his hand around Julian, tighter this time, and everything just feels blazing hot and intense.

Aaron attacks his neck again, and Julian can only lie there and cling to Aaron, wrapping his legs around his waist. For a few minutes, all that can be heard is their heavy pants, Aaron’s hand sliding up and down his dick, and the distant buzz of the TV.

Julian gasps. “I’m—Aaron, I’m gonna—I’m—”   

“Go ahead, baby,” he mumbles, going face-to-face with Julian again, lips hovering over Julian’s in some kind of almost-kiss. “I got you.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, Julian comes with a moan which is immediately muffled by Aaron’s mouth. Aaron works him through it, only stopping when Julian whines from overstimulation. Somehow, Aaron gets his hands on a damp towel and uses it to wipe Julian clean. 

“You alive?” Aaron asks with a laugh. 

Julian blinks and finds Aaron lying next to him, looking down at his face. His cheeks are still a bit red, eyes bright. 

“I think so,” Julian replies, making Aaron chuckle. Then, Julian quickly says, “I want you to come, too.” 

For some reason, Aaron looks away, almost bashful. “Oh. Don’t worry about it.”

“Huh? Why?”

When Aaron doesn’t answer, Julian makes a move to reach for his hard-on, only to be stopped by Aaron. He looks up, and this time, there’s no mistaking the embarrassed look on Aaron’s face. “It’s, um. I already did.”

“Really?” Julian frowns. “When?”

“When you were…” Aaron made some kind of gesture with his hand that Julian can’t really figure out. “You looked hot when you came, okay? I just…”

Julian can’t help it. He giggles, trying to stop himself, but it’s just impossible. 

“Wow,” Aaron says, sitting up and crossing his arms over his chest. “Wow, okay. So what if I came in my pants like a teenager? You expect too much from me.”

Julian sits up as well. “Oh my god!”

“I swear I usually have better stamina than this.”

Julian laughs freely now, moving closer to caress Aaron’s chest. “You don’t understand how flattered I am right now.”

Aaron still looks slightly embarrassed, but he’s smiling like he finds Julian amusing. “Well, you should be. I’ll have you know I’m a renowned sex god—”

Julian snorts.

“—and it’s a huge achievement on your part that you had me… you know. Doing that.”

Before Julian can say anything more, he hears his phone ping from the coffee table. He grabs it and finds a text from Emily. “Oh, shit.”

“What? Something happened?”

“No, I—” Julian stands, fixing his clothes. “I completely forgot to tell you. Em said we’re doing lunch instead of dinner. She’s asking if we’re on our way.”

“What time is it?”

“11:30.”

“Oh, shit.”

Julian and Aaron manage to shower and get ready in fifteen minutes, and then they’re on the road. They stop by a bakery to get some pastries, and then they’re on their way to Emily’s place. Thankfully, the drive is relatively quick, so they make it there only a few minutes past 12.

Emily and Raymond’s apartment is the same as Julian remembers it. A bit cramped, but thanks to Emily’s smart furniture placement, she gets to make the most out of the space. Today, it particularly looks like she spent some time tidying up. The smell of lemon-scented cleaning agents is quite evident inside, and the floors look newly mopped, clean and sparkling.

“Hope you guys are in the mood for some lasagna,” Emily says as she leads them to the dining table.

“Sounds great,” Aaron says. He places the box of cupcakes they bought earlier on the table. “We brought some dessert.”

Emily thanks them and urges them to sit, so they take their seats next to each other. Julian looks around. “Raymond’s not here?”

“Oh, um, he’s on his way.” She flashes him a mysterious smile. She looks kind of excited—it’s the same kind of expression she’d get when she was planning something sneaky, like a prank, when she was a kid. “How was your trip, by the way?”

“It was fun,” Julian says, sharing a warm look with Aaron. “Aaron, Casey, Tommy, and Steven did a great job. Did you see the videos I sent you?”

“I did. I didn’t know you guys could play that well!”

Aaron looks flattered and embarrassed at the same time. “We’ve been playing for a while. It was our biggest crowd, though. So it was a bit nerve-wracking.”

Emily makes a quick trip to the kitchen to retrieve a platter of lasagna. Then, she goes back for a big plate of fried chicken and garlic bread, as well as a pitcher of juice. “Well, you guys still did a great job. And I’m glad you both got home safely.”

“If I remember correctly,” Julian starts, “you said I get a reward if I come home in one piece. You said you had a surprise for me.”

“That I did.” She flashes him another playful grin. She has a youthful aura around her today, and Julian hasn’t seen it on her in a while. It makes him smile. “Your surprise will be here in a bit.”

“Have you gotten me a puppy?”

She snorts. “Is that what you were hoping for?”

Aaron turns to him, raising an eyebrow. “I could’ve sworn you were a cat person.”

“Well… doesn’t really matter if it’s a cat or dog. If it’s cute, I’ll love it either way.”

“Oh my god,” Emily says with a laugh, “I didn’t get you a pet, so this conversation is irrelevant.”

Julian pouts. “But I’ve always wanted a pet.”

“We can totally get a pet,” Aaron says immediately. He sets a hand on Julian’s thigh under the table, as though to comfort him. “Eventually.”

There’s a knock on the door, and Emily quickly stands. She straightens her dress and heads for the door. From where he’s seated, Julian can’t see the entryway, so he just sits there, hearing what must be Raymond’s voice and… someone else.

Aaron likely has a clear view of the entryway from his seat because Julian sees the way Aaron’s eyes widen. Like an automatic response, Julian feels a wave of anxiety wash over him. “What is it?”

But then Aaron turns to him, a wide smile taking over his face. “Your surprise is here, Jules.”

Julian turns in his seat, heartbeat picking up. Emily comes into view first, and then Raymond. They’re both smiling, and then a third person walks in.

He feels his breath catch in his throat.

“Hello! Are you my Uncle Julian?”

There, in between Emily and Raymond, stands his niece. She’s quite tall for a six-year-old—something she likely got from her father’s genes. Her dark hair is in pigtails, swinging in the air as she practically skips to where Julian sits. For a moment, Julian has this bizarre thought that he somehow traveled back in time and is now face to face with Emily’s younger self. From her eyes to her complexion and to the way her gaze seems to pierce through Julian, Rose seems to be a carbon copy of her mother.

Unbidden tears blur his vision. He crouches on the floor so he’s at Rose’s eye level. They just observe each other for a few seconds, Julian in disbelief and Rose in curiosity. 

In that clumsy way kids her age speak, she says, “You’re very pretty for a boy.”

“Rose!” Emily says in a scolding manner, but Julian gestures at her that it’s okay.

Julian laughs, turning back to Rose. “Thank you. I think you’re very pretty, too. You look so much like your mom.”

Rose spots the box of cupcakes on the table. “Can I have some of this? My favorite flavor is chocolate.”

“Of course,” Julian says, a part of him still in disbelief that this is all actually happening. “Aaron and I got it just for you.”

She tilts her head to the side, looking Aaron up and down. “You’re Aaron?”

Aaron smiles, offering his hand. “Yes, that’s me. Nice to meet you. Your mom has told me so much about you.”

“I don’t know much about you, though.”

“That’s okay.” Aaron shakes her hand and lets go. “We’ll hang out and become friends. That okay?”

Rose wipes her nose with the back of her hand, sniffling. “Sure.” She looks at the cupcakes again. “Can I eat this?”

“That’s for dessert,” Emily says firmly, taking a seat at the table. Raymond follows and sits beside her. “Eat some lasagna first.”

“But I already ate!”

“That was hours ago, baby. Now it’s time for lunch.”

She groans but doesn’t protest when Emily makes her sit at the head of the table, to Julian’s left. Rose is quite chatty, and she immediately bonds with Aaron over this common trait of theirs. While Aaron asks her about school and food, Julian sits there, still in a bit of a shock.

He tries to eat, but he can’t help but watch Rose—the way she giggles and laughs, so carefree. Can’t help but think about how big she’s gotten, how much he’s missed in her life. He watches the table erupt into lively chatter and laughter, and he sits there, feeling like he’s stuck in a dream. Terrified that this will be taken away from him.

But this is real life. Something that he’s only dared to dream about before is coming true.

Aaron tells Rose a joke, and Raymond has to explain it to her. When she finally gets it, she starts laughing, if a bit exaggeratedly. Julian sits there with a frozen smile on his face, throat feeling increasingly tight. 

Across the table, Emily meets his gaze. There’s a softness in her eyes that tells him that she knows just how momentous this moment is for him, and that she might feel the same. She’s been bubbly this entire time—more than she’s ever been these past few months—but there’s no mistaking how her eyes are slightly glazed over with unshed tears. Happy tears. 

Julian smiles at her. He looks around the table—Rose beside him, Aaron with his hand still on Julian’s thigh, Emily and Raymond’s familiar presence—and he thinks about how he begged and prayed for this moment over and over for so many years.

And it’s all coming true.

“Your food’s getting cold,” Aaron tells him gently. Like Emily, he knows how much this means to Julian. He removes his hand from where it’s resting on Julian’s thigh and uses it to intertwine their fingers under the table.

Julian doesn’t say anything. But it’s alright, because Aaron doesn’t expect him to. Especially not now when Julian has just met his niece for the first time. Not now when Julian realizes he’s the happiest he’s ever been in his entire life. 

They just sit there with their fingers locked together, Aaron squeezing his hand every now and then, keeping him grounded.     

Chapter Text

“Delivery for Julian Harper?”

Julian looks up from where he stands behind the counter, putting his book away. A man in a collared shirt stands at the record shop’s entrance, carrying a large bouquet of white and pink tulips.

“That’s me,” Julian says. His shift is just about to end, and Ollie has already arrived to relieve him, currently fixing his things in the back.

“I just need you to sign this, please.” The man walks over to him, making him sign a piece of paper. Up close, Julian sees the logo of a flower shop on his shirt. 

“Thank you.” Julian returns the signed paper. In return, the man hands over the flowers, nodding to him once before walking out.

For a moment, Julian just stands there, looking down at the bouquet. First of all, he’s confused. Maybe they sent it to the wrong person? 

But the flowers are pretty and they smell lovely, so Julian inspects them a bit closer. Then, he finds a small card tucked into the flowers.

He pulls it out. It reads: You look perfect today. Just like always.

A smile slowly creeps onto Julian’s face. This is likely one of Aaron’s sweet little gestures that he does out of the blue. Just last week, Aaron surprised him with breakfast in bed. And a few days ago, Aaron saw a soft blue sweater at the mall and decided to buy it for Julian because he thought Julian would look good in it.

As if summoned by his thoughts, his phone pings with a text message from Aaron. 

Aaron: Ready to go, Jules?

Julian takes a long whiff of the flowers, displaying them behind the counter. He responds to Aaron with a grin.

Julian: Yes. And thank you.

Aaron: What for?

He holds back a smile. Aaron loves to act oblivious at times. 

Julian: You know what I’m talking about!!

He puts his phone away and packs his stuff, waving goodbye to Ollie as he walks out of the record shop. Aaron and Julian decided to have lunch later than usual since they’re supposed to meet Emily and Rose at the park, so they thought they might as well eat there.

Eventually, he spots Aaron’s car and climbs into the passenger seat. Surprisingly, Steven is in the backseat, and there’s a guitar case beside him.

Julian greets them both, and then Aaron says, “Steven said he owes you some guitar lessons.”

“Oh.” Julian laughs, looking over his shoulder. “You don’t have to—”

“It’ll be fun, dude.” Steven waves him off. “Also, I heard Emily’s bringing food. So that’s what I’m really here for.”

“You’ll also meet Rose,” Julian says. “She’s really sweet—you’ll like her.”

“Right!” Steven’s eyes widen slightly, as though he just realized this. He dramatically fixes his hair and straightens his shirt. “I want to make a good impression.”

They make it to the park in record time, and they join Emily and Rose at one of the picnic tables. As promised, Emily did bring food, so they spend a few minutes stuffing themselves with sandwiches, and then it’s not long after that until Rose gets bored and drags Aaron along to play with her.

With his belly full, Julian sits under a tree, shaded from the worst of the afternoon’s heat. Steven follows and sits cross-legged beside him with his guitar, and he starts casually strumming. Eventually, he starts teaching Julian how to play.

“Look at my fingers. See? Yours has to be positioned like that, too.” Steven hands him the guitar.

The wind blows his hair into his face, so Julian whips his head a bit to get it out of the way. He takes the guitar, tries to remember the position of Steven’s hands, but then he’s distracted by the sound of Rose’s laughter drifting over to them from the middle of the park, where wooden picnic tables are scattered all over the grass. 

Rose is wearing a cute yellow dress, running around in her tiny shoes as an overzealous Aaron chases after her, playfully making some kind of animalistic noise. Rose shrieks in delight, dashing across the grass, while Emily still sits at the picnic table, reminding her daughter not to run too fast or she might trip and fall on her face.

Julian tears his eyes away from the scene and looks back down at the guitar in his lap. He repositions his fingers on the strings, trying to copy how Steven had shown him.

He strums, and the sound that comes out is… not quite right.

Steven winces. “Close,” he says, not unkindly. “You’re a little off the fret. Slide your finger up.”

Julian adjusts. The strings are harder to press down than he expected. They dig into the pads of his fingers, unfamiliar and stiff. He tries again. The chord rings clearer this time.

“Better,” Steven says, nodding. “See? It’s mostly muscle memory. You just have to teach your hands what to do.”

Julian gives a small nod. He glances down at his fingers, moving them slowly into place again. “It hurts.”

“Yeah, it’s supposed to. You’re using muscles that’ve probably never worked in their lives. Bet your hands are baby soft.”

Julian snorts. “Says the guy who uses three different types of moisturizer.”

“Correction—I used three types of moisturizer. Now I just survive on pure bar soap like a real man,” Steven says, stretching his arms over his head as he yawns. “But moisturizer or not, you build up calluses after a while. Then it gets easier.”

Julian tries another chord. Still clumsy, but improving.

Steven watches for a few beats before speaking again. “You know, I wasn’t really sure how to talk to you, at first.”

Julian merely raises an eyebrow curiously. Then, he looks back down at the guitar, lightly plucking a single string just to hear the sound.

“I just knew Aaron was crazy about you, and you know, Aaron’s always been kind of a romantic person, but never in the way he was with you. So I was really curious what’s so special about you specifically.”

“Well,” Julian starts, not really sure where the conversation is going. “Figured out what it is about me yet?”

At that, Steven looks at him, eyes calculating. It kind of reminds him of Emily’s analytical gaze. Then, Steven says, “In a weird way, you remind me of me.”

Julian can’t help it. He laughs a bit, not sure if Steven wants that to come off as a joke or something, because seriously? Julian and Steven couldn’t be more different. Steven is kind of on Aaron’s level of sunniness and energy, while Julian… well, sometimes he thinks he’s like the human personification of a shadow.

“Let me explain,” Steven says, but there’s humor in his tone. “Aaron and I met in high school, right? Well, the first time Aaron saw me, I was getting beaten to hell by my dad.”

That makes the smile on Julian’s face drop immediately. But Steven just waves him off, continuing like he didn’t just say something utterly heartbreaking. 

“Anyway, so, terrible home life, right? Aaron… well, you know how he is. For the lack of a better word, he’s kind of like a caretaker. A protector, you know? That’s just who he is. I mean, he was a scrawny little thing back then, so he couldn’t exactly defend me from my dad, but he tried to protect me in ways that he could. When I didn’t want to go home yet, he’d take me to his place. Even let me sleep over whenever I wanted. He made sure I knew that I didn’t deserve whatever was happening to me. And… it helped. A lot.”

Throat tightening, Julian looks away, blinking away the building tears in his eyes. He looks out at the open space before them, at Aaron’s bright, open laugh as he plays with Rose. The undeniable joy in his eyes. 

How the hell has Julian managed to find himself an actual angel on earth?

“Bet you didn’t know this,” Steven continues, “but Tommy used to be even more… I don’t know, detached back then. I’d go as far as to say ‘depressed.’ He and Casey fought a lot, and Casey used to be a bit… cruel, in the way only teenagers can be. But they got close with Aaron, and he befriended them individually, helped them out with whatever was bothering them at the time. And so, the version of us you’ve met? We wouldn’t be like this if it weren’t for Aaron.”

This was all new information to Julian, but now that he thinks about it, it all makes sense. Aaron is just this one huge ball of positive energy—it’s impossible not to be pulled into his orbit.

Julian looks back at Steven. He hesitates for a bit, and then, “Your dad…”

Steven shakes his head, smiling humorlessly. “Don’t worry, he stopped doing that during my senior year in high school after he nearly cracked my skull that one time. Water under the bridge, and all that.”

This makes Julian clench his jaw. “You just—you just forgave him? Forgot everything? Just like that?”

“I mean, there’s nothing else to do, is there? Not like I could turn back time and stop it.”

“But you shouldn’t just—” Julian starts, words getting caught in his throat. He looks down at his hand, finding it trembling a bit where it’s resting on the strings. “You didn’t deserve that.”

“I know.”

“But how—” He cuts himself off completely this time, unable to help the way his eyes fill up with tears. 

But really, he wants to reach over and shake Steven by the shoulders. Wants to ask him how he could just move on from something like that. How he could just carry on each day, smiling and laughing and being his bubbly self? How could he continue to live like nothing happened at all?

“I didn’t forgive, though. And I certainly didn’t forget.” Steven’s voice could barely be heard over the collective noise in the park. “I still talk to him and he’s still in my life, but I don’t plan for things to stay that way forever.” Julian looks up, finding a faraway look in Steven’s eyes. “Plus, you don’t really get to forget stuff like that. But… I don’t mind not forgetting. I moved past it, but that doesn’t mean I want to pretend it never happened. Those things did happen, and they were terrible, but remembering most of the details reminds me that I’m incredibly strong to be able to survive them in the first place. Makes me respect myself more, if that makes sense?”

For some reason, those words break the dam. Julian puts the guitar down, turning his head away so Steven doesn’t see the way tears flood his cheeks. The wind ruffles his hair, enough that most of his face is covered and hopefully no one can see him crying.

It’s just… something about the way Steven said it. He’s aware that Steven knows nothing about what Julian’s been through, but it feels like those words were made just for him. Julian replays the words in his head, trying to remember, trying to make sense of it.

He has never thought of it that way before. Never. He just wants to forget. Wants to forget every single ugly detail, wants to never get nightmares ever again. Wants to tear out that infected part of his brain because some days, it feels like it’s the only way to move forward. Even if it made him a mindless zombie to do so, he’d prefer that over never forgetting.

Yet here Steven is, casually turning his whole viewpoint upside down. Telling him that it’s better not to forget, better not to act like any of it ever happened. And that he’s strong for it.

But it’s true, isn’t it? Steven is incredibly strong for getting through it, for living through such abuse, especially at a young age. And Steven does seem well-adjusted now, even though there are times when he goes quiet and loses himself in his own head, too. 

If anything, Steven is proof that anyone can get past such terrible things in life. Theoretically, Julian knew this was possible, but it’s different when it’s someone he personally knows. Especially someone like Steven.

“Hey,” comes Steven’s voice behind him, followed by a light touch on his shoulder. This makes Julian cry even more, for some reason, so he pulls his knees up to his chest and hides his face in his arms. “Julian…”

“I’m okay,” Julian mumbles. “Sorry, I just…”

“Just let it out, man.” Steven continues to softly rub his back. “You know what I did during my first real crash-out? Barged into my dad’s board meeting drunk off my ass and started tossing shit around. Yelled and cried and nearly broke their fancy, big ass window. Dad nearly put me in a mental institution after that, but luckily, my stepmom stepped in and told him not to.”

He wipes his face with his palm, finally lifting his head. He meets Steven’s eyes and sniffles. “That sounds like a very Steven thing to do.”

“Totally.”

Julian sits back up, feeling stupid for his breakdown. Steven doesn’t say anything for a while—he just lets Julian compose himself. 

Julian clears his throat. “Sorry.”

“Talking about stuff really helps. I talk about it like it’s nothing now, but back then, it was really hard. But talking about it with someone you trust is a good start.”

Julian bites his lip, his mind going through the long list of terrible things that have happened to him, and how he knows the shame of it all would kill him if he ever had to talk about it. “Easier said than done.”

“Trust me, I know,” Steven says with a small huff. “I know you have Aaron, but if you ever want to talk, I’m here too, alright? Maybe opening up to someone who isn’t Aaron could be less daunting.”

Julian honestly doesn’t know what the right thing to do is, or what he should do, but it’s nice to have that option. “Thank you, Steven.”

In response, Steven picks up the abandoned guitar and starts strumming. After a moment, he says, “Ah, fuck. I just made you cry. Aaron’s gonna kill me for sure.”

Julian laughs. “No, he won’t.”

Steven gives him a look—half-playful, half-serious. “I think you underestimate what that man can and will do for you.”

This makes Julian’s cheeks feel hot. “You're overexaggerating.”

Just then, he hears footsteps approaching them, and he glances sideward just in time to see Aaron jogging toward them. However, the grin on his face immediately disappears when he meets Julian’s eyes. 

Julian knows he must look pitiful—he always goes pink all over the face when he cries, and his eyes must look like a particular wreck. Aaron drops to a crouch in front of him, eyebrows furrowing as his eyes scan Julian’s face. 

“What happened?” He softly cups Julian’s face, then throws a sharp look at Steven. 

“Hey man,” Steven says, putting his palms up as though in surrender, “I swear on your car I didn’t do anything—”

“I just got emotional,” Julian cuts in, not wanting these two to argue over nothing. He grips the hand cupping his cheek, which makes Aaron look back at him. He looks so serious like this. “We were just talking, and something he said kind of like… I don’t know. It just made me emotional. But he wasn’t doing anything wrong.”

Aaron’s jaw is still clenched, but he nods. “Okay. Want to talk about it?”

A pause, and then Julian decides, “Eventually.”

It seems like that’s enough for Aaron. He relaxes a bit, squeezing himself between Julian and Steven. He throws an arm over Julian’s shoulder and pulls him in close, while Steven starts strumming something soft and slow on Aaron’s other side. Julian takes a deep breath, burrowing into Aaron’s chest, one eye on the lively park before him.  

The sunlight starts to fade, casting long shadows across the grass. Rose is sitting now, pink-faced and sweaty, munching on something from a paper plate. Emily sits with her, her smile as bright as her daughter’s.

Eventually, Emily and Rose join them under the tree. Emily flops down on the grass beside Julian, breathing hard. “I think I pulled something chasing her around,” she groans, wiping sweat from her brow. “She’s fast. It’s unnatural.”

“You’re just out of shape,” Julian teases.

Rose darts toward them, her dress fluttering behind her. She makes a beeline for Julian and doesn’t hesitate before climbing into his lap like she’s done it a hundred times before.

“Uncle Julian!” she says, and then her eyes shine when she spots the guitar in Steven’s hands. “A guitar!”

Steven leans over with a half-smile. “You like instruments, Rose?”

“I played the sigh-phone in school.”

“You mean the xylophone?”

“Yes, that one.”

“Ah.” Steven scooches forward so he’s closer to Rose. “Unfortunately, I don’t have a xylophone with me, but would you like me to play a song for you?”

“Yes!”

The next minutes pass with Steven playing the tune of Rose’s requested nursery rhymes, Emily feeding Rose with a sandwich here and there, and Julian and Aaron remaining glued to each other. 

Out of nowhere, Aaron turns his head and presses a kiss to the crown of Julian’s head. “Are you having a good time?”

Julian smiles into Aaron’s shirt. “I’m having the best time.”

Aaron pulls him in even closer. “Good.”

A moment later, Emily sits directly next to Julian, watching Rose with a fond look. “She talks about you all the time. Keeps asking when you’re coming over again.”

Julian glances up, a little caught off guard. “She does?”

“Mm-hmm.” Emily smiles. “You’ve got a fan.”

Rose, now fully absorbed in the guitar, doesn’t seem to hear. Emily reaches out to brush a bit of hair out of her face anyway, gently tucking it behind her ear.

Eventually, though, Rose gets sick of the guitar and starts collecting leaves and flowers from a patch nearby. Emily gets up to follow her, probably to make sure that she doesn’t stray too far. Steven is playing the guitar, humming quietly to himself.

Aaron leans in slightly toward Julian, voice low. “Hey, by the way… I made plans for us tonight.”

Julian blinks. “Plans?”

Aaron’s smile turns playful. “Yeah. A real, actual date. I made a reservation. It’s a little place by the lake. Quiet, kind of out of the way. You’ll like it.”

Julian blinks again, this time slower. “You didn’t have to—”

“I know,” Aaron says, shrugging. “I wanted to.”

He’s not used to being planned for, to having someone think ahead on his behalf—not like this. But he supposes he should get used to it. This is Aaron after all, isn’t it?

So, he just asks, “What time?”

“We can go at six,” Aaron says. “Dress casual. It’s nothing fancy. I just want to spend some time with you. Somewhere that’s not in the apartment, you know?”

Julian nods. “Okay,” he says, his heart giving a giddy little jump. “Yeah. That sounds… really nice.”

Aaron reaches out and briefly laces their fingers together before letting go again.

As he looks around, he meets Emily’s eyes. She looks curious, an eyebrow raised, looking between Aaron and Julian. He feels heat climb up his cheeks, choosing to look away rather than answer Emily’s questioning gaze.

However, Emily is nothing if not persistent. So as soon as Aaron and Steven take Rose away to play nearer to the swings and slides—at the other end of the park but not far enough to be out of sight—Emily sits beside him, eyes sparkling.

“You and Aaron, huh?”

Julian groans. “Can you not?”

Emily grins like the cat that got the cream. “Oh, come on. Don’t do that thing where you act like I haven’t seen it.”

Julian shifts, pulling his knees up slightly and resting his arms over them. “Seen what?”

She bumps his shoulder gently. “You two. The way you look at each other. I mean, you were literally holding hands just now. I’m your sister. I notice stuff.”

Julian hides his face behind his hands for a second. “I was gonna tell you.”

“Hey. I know. I’m just messing with you.”

He lifts his head slowly, cheeks still feeling hot, but he doesn’t look away this time. “Yeah. We’re together.”

The moment the words are out of his mouth, Emily lets out a noise that’s somewhere between a gasp and a squeal. “I knew it!”

“Keep your voice down!”

“I’m allowed to be excited! This is so cute!” She’s practically bouncing in place, gripping his arm now. “How long?”

“Since the music festival, kind of.” He rubs at the back of his neck. 

Emily’s eyes soften, her teasing dialed down now. “He’s really good to you.”

“He is.”

“You look happy.” She nudges his side. “Not just with him. In general.”

“I think I am,” he admits quietly.

Emily doesn’t say anything for a moment. She just leans her head against his shoulder, making herself comfortable. “You deserve that.”

Julian swallows hard, the emotion sitting right behind his ribs. “Thanks.”

There’s a quiet moment between them, filled only by the distant sound of Rose laughing near the swings, Aaron saying something loud enough to carry through the trees, and Steven egging her on to go down one of the bigger slides.

Emily eventually sits up again, still watching him. “So, are you like... official-official?”

Julian shrugs, trying to be casual, but he can’t quite keep the small smile off his face. “Yeah. We are.”

Emily claps her hands once, trying—and failing—to contain her excitement. “This is so great. I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks,” he says again.

Emily stands, brushing grass from the back of her jeans. “Rose will be thrilled.”

Julian glances toward where she’s now climbing into Aaron’s lap with a string of daisies in her hand.

Emily smiles, watching them. “She already loves him.”

Julian watches too. Aaron meets his eyes from across the park, his expression open and gentle. 

Always so gentle.

☾

Julian stands in front of the mirror for longer than he means to. He’s dressed simply—just dark pants and a plain shirt with the sleeves rolled up—but still, he hesitates. It's not the clothes, necessarily. He just wants to feel like he looks… right beside Aaron.

He tugs at his sleeve, checks his hair again, then huffs softly at himself before stepping away. The air smells faintly of Aaron’s cologne from the other room, clean and grounding.

Not long after, Aaron knocks on his bedroom door before pushing it open, popping his head in with a bright grin. “Ready?”

When Julian fully turns, he finds Aaron against the door frame, a small bouquet of wildflowers in hand—like he’s come to pick Julian up for prom.

Julian lets out a laugh. “Wow. You really like giving me flowers, huh?”

“Of course.” Aaron steps into the room, doing that teasing smile he always does. Unfortunately, Julian does find that very sexy. 

“Thank you.”

Aaron moves even closer, close enough to tuck his free arm over Julian’s waist and pull until they’re chest to chest. Julian has to tip his head up to meet his eyes. The way Aaron is looking at him does some really weird stuff to his stomach. 

“You look beautiful,” Aaron tells him, voice deep.

Julian swallows. In an effort to get rid of his nervous energy, Julian lifts a hand up and smooths his palm over Aaron’s chest. Aaron is wearing a navy shirt, fitted to his torso. “You look handsome.”

He smiles, small and satisfied, and swoops in to kiss Julian on the lips. Julian’s arms immediately go around Aaron’s neck, pulling him in close, letting himself get lost in his scent and warmth. His skin. Aaron gives as good as he gets, tightening the arm he has around Julian’s waist, pulling until their bodies are flushed. 

At some point, Aaron drops the bouquet of flowers on the ground, and neither of them cares. Instead, Aaron presses him against the wall, trapping him there until Julian can see and feel nothing but him. Nothing but the way his strong hands roam all over Julian’s body, nothing but his firm lips, his hot breaths. 

“I really like kissing you,” Julian says, panting, while Aaron kisses the edge of his jaw, then lower. “I—” 

Aaron leaves a particularly aggressive bite to his neck, and it makes Julian make a sound that’s halfway between a groan and a hiss. Immediately, Aaron pulls away, lips sinfully red. “Sorry, sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“Shut up and do it again,” Julian demands, pulling Aaron in by the hair until his face is tucked in Julian’s neck once more.

He hears Aaron’s amused huff, but before Julian can say anything about it, Aaron gets to work. He nips and nibbles at the sensitive skin of Julian’s neck, making Julian’s knees go weak. He never knew his neck was his weak spot, but he supposes there will be a lot of things he’ll learn about himself with Aaron.

“Do you know how well these jeans fit you?” Aaron whispers hotly. Julian only clings to his shoulders, biting his lip as Aaron’s hands start traveling down his torso. “Do you?”

“I don’t know,” Julian says pathetically, limbs feeling incredibly jelly-like. “Um. They’re my best pants. I didn’t really—”

“Well, you look great in them.”

“I don’t really—”

Then, Aaron’s hand snakes behind him to grab a handful of his ass, squeezing. Julian lets out a sound of surprise, making Aaron falter.

Aaron kisses the tip of his nose. “Sorry. This okay?”

Julian gathers up his wits to glare. “You asking me every other second makes it less sexy, do you realize that?” 

Fighting back a smile, Aaron squeezes his ass again. “I’m a gentleman, what can I say?”

“Are all gentlemen supposed to be annoyingly chatty?”

“Well, that depends on what their partner likes.”

Leaning up on his toes, Julian steals a particularly firm kiss, nipping on his bottom lip before pulling away. “ This partner wants you to stop talking and focus on the kissing part.”

He grins—sharp and satisfied. “As you wish.”

Aaron isn’t as hesitant as he was before, but there are still times when Julian feels his movements falter when they’re intimate. It’s like his confidence disappears for a fraction of a second, and he either has to check with Julian again if he’s okay with what they’re doing, or he just automatically takes the gentler route and plays it safe. 

And it’s not like Julian doesn’t appreciate that. Of course he does. Aaron is probably one of the most thoughtful people ever born, and he’d probably act in a similar way even if Julian didn’t have a traumatic history. But those moments of hesitation, those pauses between the heat—it gets to Julian, sometimes. Reminds him that Aaron, despite how strong he is and how well he’s taking all this, likely has his own doubts, and is often unsure about how much is too much. 

Julian admits that he’s at fault here. And he supposes it’s only fair that he let Aaron know what he really wants, without question.

So. Straightforward is the only way to go.

“When we get back,” Julian says, purposefully making his voice all low and sultry. Aaron continues to kiss his mouth hungrily, but before he can deepen it, Julian says, “Want you to fuck me till I can’t walk.”

As though a switch has been flicked, Aaron suddenly goes still, his mouth a few inches from Julian’s. He’s panting, eyes still wide with lust, but he’s looking right into Julian’s eyes, and there’s a question in his gaze.

Julian tries not to lose his bravado. He’s said it to plenty of clients before, and they’ve all gone crazy for it. 

“Jules…”

Julian sneaks his hand down, and then his fingers close around Aaron’s length beneath layers of clothing. Aaron hisses at the contact. “That a yes?” 

He feels his hand shake a bit, but that’s because he hasn’t done this in a while. Sure, he and Aaron have fooled around, but they’ve all been extremely vanilla. Something a pair of hormonal teenagers would do rather than the stuff Julian used to do on the daily. So, yes, this is a bit nerve-wracking, but only because he hasn’t done anything particularly intense with Aaron yet.

Another beat of silence passes with just Aaron watching him closely, and then there are fingers gently wrapping around Julian’s wrist, pulling his hands away from Aaron’s length.

They’re still pressed close together, and Aaron looks like he’s thinking long and hard about what he wants to say next. Julian is only nervous for half a second, because Aaron eventually says, “You’ll be the death of me.”

Smirking, Julian tries to pull him in for another kiss, but Aaron makes a pained sound. “Babe. If we don’t stop this now, we’re never gonna make it to dinner.”

Part of Julian wants to suggest skipping dinner altogether, but he knows Aaron put a lot of effort into it. So, he starts straightening his shirt and fixing his hair, then teasingly whispers, “After dinner it is, then.”

Aaron stares at him, cheeks still red, and Julian walks past him with a wink. Aaron looks lost for words, and his expression nearly makes Julian laugh.

“We’re gonna be late to our reservation,” Julian reminds him, picking up the bouquet of flowers and putting them on his desk. Then, he books it out of the room, leaving Aaron standing there, hair and clothes disheveled, lips red.

Though Julian is slightly nervous, he doesn’t dwell on the feeling too much. He knows he wants this. He’s not some blushing virgin, for fuck’s sake. They were eventually going to go all the way; it was only a matter of time. Aaron, being the angel that he is, has just been waiting for Julian to be the one to initiate it, and he has. 

It’s just sex. It’s no big deal.

Eventually, once Aaron has composed himself, they head to the car. As Aaron drives, he has one hand clutching Julian’s, and he’s chatty and enthusiastic as always.

Julian cracks the window open. The wind tousles Aaron’s hair, and the playlist playing through the speakers is low and easy, soft indie guitar riffs, songs Julian recognizes from nights Aaron cooks dinner with his headphones on. The lake isn’t far, just on the edge of town, and the road curves gently as they near it. It’s golden hour, everything bathed in a soft glow. Trees line the edge of the water, and the sky has just started to blush, streaked with pale pinks and oranges like someone painted it slowly.

Aaron parks the car, then they walk into the restaurant. Julian doesn’t find the place familiar, but it has a high-end vibe to it that he hopes doesn’t cost Aaron too much money. The hostess leads them through the restaurant and out onto a wooden deck that juts out over the lake. There are string lights wound lazily around the railing. A single table is set near the far corner, accompanied by two chairs, a tablecloth, and a few small candles flickering in mason jars.

Julian stares. “Did you…?”

Aaron shrugs one shoulder, his voice casual but his eyes warm. “I have a friend who works here. She let me borrow the deck after hours. Just us.”

Julian looks around, spinning in place. “Wow. This is beautiful.”

The table is already set, and once they’re seated, a waiter arrives with the menu. Julian’s a bit overwhelmed by the options, so he asks Aaron to choose for him, which Aaron gladly does. 

Once the waiter has taken their order, he walks away, and it’s just the two of them again. 

Julian looks at the lake—the surface catching the last of the sunlight, golden ripples stretching toward the horizon. A few families are scattered along the walking path nearby, their laughter carried on the breeze.

They chat a bit, about work and this and that, but Julian feels the underlying tension beneath each word. Julian promised him a… satisfying night, after all, and it’s evident that they’re both looking forward to it.

But Julian likes the tension. Likes the way Aaron looks at him like he’s something valuable, but also like something desirable. Something to be devoured. It’s a tricky balance that only Aaron seems to pull off. 

The food comes, and it’s good. Julian eats more than he thought he would, even though he hadn’t been hungry earlier. Aaron keeps up a stream of quiet conversation, punctuated by long, comfortable silences that Julian doesn’t feel the need to fill.

Every so often, Aaron reaches over and touches him—fingers brushing his wrist, a gentle squeeze to his knee under the table. There’s definitely hunger in his touch, but there’s also that usual, quiet warmth that settles Julian’s nerves every time. 

As the sun finishes its descent and the last of the light bleeds from the sky, lanterns on the patio flicker on, casting the table in gold. Across the lake, the opposite shore glows faintly, reflected lights from houses and streetlamps dancing on the water.

Julian catches himself watching Aaron more than he means to. The curve of his jaw in the low light. The way his smile shifts when he’s amused versus when he’s genuinely happy. The little crinkle at the corner of his eyes when he looks at Julian. The strand of curly hair hanging over his forehead, making him look both mature and boyishly handsome.

“I love seeing you like this,” Aaron says quietly, out of nowhere.

Julian blinks. “Like what?”

“Relaxed. You’re even glowing a little.”

Julian laughs under his breath, glancing down. “It’s the lanterns.”

“No.” Aaron’s gaze turns thoughtful. “I’ve been watching you. Lately… you just seem more content.” 

It’s true. How could he not be? With Aaron and Emily’s help, he feels like he’s getting somewhere. He doesn’t know exactly how good his progress is, but there is progress. There are still days when he struggles to pull himself out of bed, but he manages. There are still times when he hopes he doesn’t wake up the following morning, but when he does, he’s not as disappointed as he used to be before. 

Often, Julian wonders what his life would be like now if he had never met Aaron. It scares him to even think it. But somehow, that question makes him appreciate things more, makes him hold onto Aaron more tightly. 

A familiar warmth settles in Julian’s chest. That weightless, dangerous, heady feeling like standing at the edge of a rooftop. He doesn’t know how long he stares at Aaron before speaking again.

“It’s because of you.”

Aaron’s smile fades just enough to make room for something more serious. He reaches for Julian’s hand, folding their fingers together on the table. “Don’t tell me that kind of stuff. Not great for my ego.”

“You know I mean it.” Julian’s tone is slightly reprimanding. He looks down at their intertwined fingers. At Aaron’s hand engulfing his. “You’ve done so much for me.”

And what have I done for you? 

“You know I’ll do anything for you,” Aaron says, pulling their joint hands up to kiss Julian’s knuckles.

“I’m scared,” Julian hears himself say. He looks out at the lake again, focusing on the reflection of the lanterns on the water. “Everything’s going so well. What if…”

“Shh.” Aaron tightens his grip on his hand. “Everything will be fine. Don’t think like that.”

It might be the end of me, Julian thinks. If all of this gets torn away from me, it might actually kill me.

He can’t help his thoughts. His brain is used to anticipating the worst possible outcome of things. And things have been far too peaceful. Far too happy. These things don’t happen in Julian’s world.

“It’s okay to be scared,” Aaron eventually says. “But don’t let it hold you back. Okay?” 

For some reason, he thinks back to those words Steven said earlier. How talking about the things that have happened to him helps. He also feels as though he owes this to Aaron—to be vulnerable with him. To be open the same way Aaron is to him.

He’s scared, but if he wants to heal, he has to start somewhere.

“I thought I would die there,” Julian says, and he doesn’t know why this thought is what his mind ends up focusing on, but Aaron doesn’t question it. He just sits there, eyes widening ever so slightly, but he doesn’t say anything. Just sits and listens. “And I wanted to. Still want to, some days. I don’t know why. It’s like… you know how it is, with people who’ve been through stuff. They’re all fucked in the head. That’s me. I can’t help it.”

It’s obvious that Aaron wants to say something, but Julian forges on. “I know you love me. You’ve told me that. But, god… there’s so much you don’t know about me. Stuff that I’m scared to tell you because I don’t want to scare you off. I’m fucking ashamed of these things.”

“Jules…”

“No, you have to understand. I want to be fair to you, I want to be honest. But it scares me because I don’t know how you’ll react. But then everyone keeps telling me I should talk about what happened to me when I was a prostitute—”

“Hey.” Aaron’s suddenly at his side, having moved his seat so they’re on the same side of the table. He turns Julian’s face toward him, his expression serious. “You’re not ready to talk about it. That’s okay.”

“But when if I’m never ready to talk about it? Will I just be like this forever?” Julian’s voice takes on a hysterical edge, and he has to make a conscious effort to keep his voice down. “That won’t be fair to you.”

“Stop thinking about me,” Aaron says, stern. “Focus on you. That’s it.”

“But I can’t just—”

“I’ve been by your side for so long, Jules, I swear nothing will scare me off. I know that’s hard to believe, but I promise you, nothing you can tell me about yourself will change the way I feel about you.”

Aaron’s just so good with words. He knows all the right things to say. He is emotionally intelligent. He was raised well. But even people like him have their limits, don’t they? What if, years into their relationship, Aaron learns something about Julian’s past that he just cannot accept? Something that makes him break up with Julian? 

Julian doesn’t think he can survive that. 

Just when Julian feels like he’s seconds away from hyperventilating, Aaron says, “Come walk with me?”

He’s too lost in thought to think about the question much, so he just nods and lets Aaron lead. 

They walk down toward the lake, along the path where the grass is still a little damp from earlier sprinklers. The night is fully settled now, sky deep navy above them, stars just starting to show. There are lights strung between the trees along the path—small bulbs that glow soft and amber, making the shadows feel oddly kind.

Aaron holds his hand as they walk, and after a few minutes, Julian feels his thoughts slowing down. He feels like he can breathe properly again.

The water laps gently at the edge of the path. Somewhere, a cricket sings. It all feels distant, muffled, like a dream. Like something Julian will wake up from. 

They stop near a low stone wall that overlooks the lake, the lights from across the water reflecting on the surface. Aaron leans against the edge, looking at Julian in that way he always does—eyes warm, mouth soft. Patient.

He says, “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

Julian can only laugh. “I’d like to make sense of it, too.”

Aaron smiles softly, leaning in to leave a soft, feather-light kiss on the corner of Julian’s mouth. It makes goosebumps rise all over Julian’s skin.

“I love you,” Aaron says. “I’ll say it to you every day. I know you’re worried I might get overwhelmed by you, or tired of you. And there’s not really a way for me to prove to you that I won’t.” He pauses, searching his face. “All I can do is stay. Show up. Keep choosing you, even on the days when it’s hard—especially then. That’s how you’ll know.”

Julian swallows past the lump in his throat.

“You know how some people think they’re meant for a person? Well, you’re the one for me. It’s you or no one, Jules. That’s how I see it.”

Not letting him say another word, Julian throws his arms over Aaron’s shoulders and buries his face in his neck. Aaron wraps his arms around his back, letting Julian cry into his shirt. 

Then, Julian pulls away, face still wet with tears. He meets Aaron’s eyes, feels the warmth and genuine love in them, and kisses him.

It’s not their first kiss, but it feels different somehow. Slower. Deeper. Aaron’s hand comes up to Julian’s jaw, fingers gentle, his other arm hooked tightly around his waist.

When they part, Aaron presses their foreheads together. “You wanna go home?”

Julian nods, heart hammering.

“Then let’s get out of here.”

☾

On their way back to the apartment, Julian doesn’t know why his palms feel clammy. He shouldn’t feel anything at all. It’s just sex. Sex doesn’t really mean anything to him. At least not in the way it means to other people. 

Aaron must notice his nervousness because he rests a hand on Julian’s thigh, and when they stop at a red light, he gently says, “If you’re not feeling it, we don’t have to.”

Julian looks down, playing with Aaron’s fingers and eventually intertwining their fingers. He bites his lip. “I want to, though.”

“Okay, but I’m saying we don’t have to do it tonight if you’re not—”

“Aaron,” Julian cuts him off, exasperated. “Do I need to remind you I’m a whore? This kinda stuff… It’s not a big deal. Seriously.”

It’s kind of funny, too, because he and Aaron have fooled around a decent amount. Handjobs count as sex, right? He guesses Aaron perceives penetrative sex as another thing entirely. Julian doesn’t know if that’s just the way he really thinks or if it’s because of Julian’s past.

“Don’t call yourself that,” Aaron says, his jaw tightening. He starts driving again just as light rain starts to fall. The radio is playing, but the volume is turned down low, so much so that Julian can’t make out anything but the subtle sound of the guitar.

“It’s true.” Julian shrugs. He makes an effort to put on a nonchalant facade, but his anxiety spikes when he asks, “You don’t mind? Fucking someone who’s been with hundreds of men? Someone dirty like that?”

Someone on a bike suddenly zips past, and Aaron has to slam on the brakes to prevent a collision. The sudden brake has them lurching forward in the car, but thankfully, the bike rider isn’t hurt. He just continues pedaling away like nothing happened.

“Fucking hell,” Aaron curses lowly. 

“He probably didn’t see us.”

A few moments pass, and Aaron doesn’t start driving right away. There aren’t many cars out in this area, so there are no honks, no angry drivers trying to rush them. 

Julian frowns. “Why aren’t we—”

“You’re not dirty.”

Julian shuts his mouth, and now that he’s looking at Aaron more closely, he can tell he’s upset. He’s gripping the steering wheel firmly, his eyes missing that spark it always holds. Clearly, he’s offended on behalf of Julian.

And Julian wants to simply agree so Aaron’s not upset anymore, but that’s not really how he feels. So he says, “It’s true. If you’re gonna be with me, then you’ll have to accept that, too. Do you have any idea how many STIs I’ve gotten over the years? Think of a sexually transmitted disease, and I’ve probably had it. Logan dealt with it because it’s bad for business, but I’ve had it. Not anymore, but I used to.”

Julian’s not really sure why he’s bringing this up now. Maybe a part of him wants Aaron to flinch away in disgust, to call the night off now that he’s reminded of what Julian really is. Because clearly, their first time is a big deal to Aaron, and Julian feels like he needs to know what he’s getting into. He doesn’t want it to feel like he’s withheld certain things from Aaron to make him appear better than he really is.

So, despite the burning sensation in his chest, he continues. “One time, I had to service four guys at the same time. Bunch of old, smelly guys. I drank a lot that night so I can’t remember it, but I’m sure you can imagine. Got maybe three infections from those fuckers.”

Aaron has been silent this entire time, so Julian keeps going. “Logan would fuck me all the time, too, and who knows where that guy’s been? He’d pass me around to his friends, and I didn’t stop them. Didn’t complain or anything. It became almost a regular thing to the point where I knew exactly what they liked in bed. Don’t you find that fucking disgusting?”

Still not saying a word, Aaron starts driving. Julian feels anger flare up inside him, because why isn’t Aaron saying anything? Doesn’t he hear this? 

Julian scoffs. “So, I promise you, you don’t have to worry about anything. If you have some weird kink, I’ve probably done it before, and it won’t be an issue. I’ve done literally everything. So stop making this into such a big deal.” 

Frankly, there’s a lot more he can say if he really wants Aaron to run away in disgust, but he doesn’t really remember it all. He’s not sure whether those things have really happened to him or if he’s just making them up at this point. Or if it’s a fantasy one of his clients wanted him to fulfill, but he never technically got to. His brain is all fucked up, basically.

When they finally make it to the apartment building, the drizzle has turned into proper rain—big fat drops of water blurring the windshield. Aaron parks the car, and then Julian looks around, hoping to find an umbrella tucked somewhere. 

And then Aaron speaks, his voice almost drowned out by the rain. “You can tell me anything you want to.”

Julian looks at him. “What?”

“About your time with Logan. Any and every detail. I know you think I’ll find you revolting. But I won’t.”

Looking away, Julian watches a pair of girls running from their car and into the building, their laughter scattered and muffled. “You don’t know that.”

This time, Aaron takes his chin so they’re facing each other again. His eyes are gentle and soft, always so warm. He smiles, just barely. “Just give me the chance to prove it to you, Jules.” 

He watches Aaron for a while, takes in every small detail—dark hair getting caught in his eyelashes, the light dusting of stubble all over his jaw. The familiarity in his eyes.

At the end of the day, he’ll always trust and believe whatever Aaron says, anyway. He supposes he’ll just let Aaron convince him. That’s all he can do. 

“Okay,” Julian decides, his heart racing. 

They run from the car to the apartment, Aaron’s jacket covering both of them, but only barely. Their clothes and hair are damp when they step into the elevator, and when they get into their apartment, Julian can finally breathe.

Aaron lets him in first and closes the door. While Aaron drops his keys onto the little table they have by the door, Julian tugs off his damp shirt before he can change his mind, tossing it to the floor.

His heart pounds in his ears, knowing Aaron has never really seen him topless before. Knowing he’s exposing not just himself, but bits and pieces of his past through the old scars and wounds all over him.

It’s dim inside with only the moon’s glow and the lamp providing light. Aaron turns around and pauses, his face unreadable. His eyes roam all over Julian’s naked torso, and Julian shivers, fighting the urge to wrap his arms around himself.

Slowly, Aaron steps closer. Closer and closer until they’re standing chest to chest, with Julian looking up at him. Aaron raises his hand, slowly tracing Julian’s skin. 

“What happened here?” Aaron asks, his voice quiet. He’s touching Julian’s shoulder, the spot where he knows one of his bigger scars is. 

It’s been years since he’s gotten it, so it’s healed, but the skin there is raised and a bit pinker than the rest of his skin. It’s not wider than a few inches. “Tried to escape. I think it was during the first few nights after I was taken. But they caught me. Made sure I remembered my lesson.”

Fury flashes over Aaron’s face, and then it’s gone. He just tightens his jaw, fingers gliding across Julian’s skin until it finds a new scar. This one’s at the spot between Julian’s neck and shoulder. “And this one?”

“Client bit me too hard,” Julian says, shivering from Aaron’s light touch. “Never healed right.”

Aaron says nothing again. His hands go down, lower, finding Julian’s hip. Julian knows what he sees there—it’s a long gash, spanning upward from the side of his hip, stopping somewhere just below his ribs. Aaron’s throat bobs as he swallows. “And this?”

Julian takes a deep breath, taking Aaron’s hand away from his scar. He intertwines their fingers, pinning their hands to Aaron’s chest. “I fought, at first. I fought the clients Logan wanted me to… satisfy. This one got really mad because I wouldn’t stay still. Somewhere in all my flailing, I knocked over a vase. He got pissed and used one of the larger shards to try and stab me. He didn’t get to, but he left a deep cut.”

There’s a sharp inhale, and when he looks up at Aaron’s face, he finds his eyes glassy. Almost like he’s holding back tears. “You didn’t deserve any of that.”

Julian swallows. “I know.”

Aaron takes a deep breath, taking in every inch of Julian. Then, he gently cups Julian’s face. “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

Suddenly feeling off-balance, Julian holds onto Aaron’s sides, clutching his shirt. He craves warm skin, so he puts his hands under Aaron’s shirt, mapping out his skin slowly.

Aaron kisses him on the mouth—quick and firm. Then, on both cheeks. Then, softly, on the tip of his nose. The corners of his mouth. His temple. His forehead. Julian is overwhelmed by the softness of it, by the amount of emotion Aaron puts into every touch. 

Tears spring to Julian’s eyes.

“I love you,” Aaron tells him. “I’ve never loved like this before, and I know I never will again.”

Julian smiles shakily, his insides feeling all jumbled up. He smooths his palms up and down Aaron’s skin, stopping abruptly when he comes across rough, raised skin. He knows immediately what it is, and the dread he feels is almost enough to choke him.

It’s Aaron’s gunshot wound from Logan.

“I’m sorry,” Julian whispers, his vision blurring with tears. “You got hurt because of me.”

Aaron watches him closely and then takes his hand away from the gunshot wound. Pulls it up to his mouth so he can kiss the back of Julian’s hand. “Not your fault.”

“You didn’t deserve it.”

“I guess we both didn’t deserve certain things to happen to us.” The side of Aaron’s mouth twitches, rueful. “But we got through them. We survived. And we’re together now. That’s all that matters.”

Julian stares up at him, feels the intense pounding in his chest. Aaron looks back at him with a kind of intensity that makes Julian’s limbs feel weak. 

“You won’t leave me?” Julian hears himself ask, his voice small.

Aaron’s hand lingers on his face, thumb tracing the curve of his cheek. “Never.”

At the same time, they go in for a kiss. Aaron sucks on his lower lip, sensual. Julian holds onto him, feeling like his legs might give out if he doesn’t, letting his mouth fall open as Aaron backs him up. Julian’s back collides with the wall with a thud, making Julian gasp, but then Aaron’s all over him again, lips hot and wet and hungry.

Julian keeps up as best as he can, moaning quietly into Aaron’s mouth. Aaron licks between the seam of his lips, tasting him everywhere, and it sends a bolt of delicious electricity down his spine.

“Fuck,” Aaron says, panting. He makes a frustrated noise, and then, without any warning, effortlessly lifts Julian up. On instinct, Julian wraps his legs around Aaron’s waist, holding onto his shoulders. 

Julian leans in for another kiss, and in between the sounds of their lips gliding and smacking against each other, Aaron breathes out, “My room?”

Dumbly, Julian nods. He thinks he might agree to just about anything Aaron asks of him right now. Aaron grins—quick and sharp—and then he carries Julian across their living space and into Aaron’s room. 

Aaron lays him down on top of the covers, hovering over Julian with hands on either side of Julian’s head. With an irritated huff, Julian yanks at Aaron’s shirt. “Take this thing off.”

Without any complaints, Aaron quickly pulls his shirt off, his muscles flexing as he does so. Julian just lies there, his throat going dry. Then, Aaron leans back down so they’re face to face, pressing a kiss to Julian’s slack mouth. “Feeling alright?’

“More than alright,” Julian says. He lifts a hand and starts caressing Aaron’s chest and arms, feeling the firm muscles underneath his skin. “You’re like a Greek god.”

Aaron laughs. 

“Seriously,” Julian insists, because can’t Aaron see this? “You’re gorgeous. Sometimes I get scared, like what if I just made you up and you aren’t real? What if I’m actually just insane?”

There’s humor in Aaron’s smile, but there’s also an unmistakable look of concern in his eyes. “I’m very much real, baby.”

“Yeah?” Julian pulls him down by the hair until they’re sharing a breath. He feels Aaron’s heat even more like this, and it makes him feel alive. He presses soft, barely-there kisses to the side of Aaron’s face, then nibbles on his ear. 

Aaron sighs, deep and satisfied. It’s not long until he takes control again, his lips returning to Julian’s neck. “You smell good.”

Julian hums, feeling his eyes roll back with pleasure as Aaron does that sinful thing with his tongue, nibbling at the sensitive skin of his neck. “And y-you feel good.”

“I’ll make you feel even better,” Aaron says, voice deep. Slowly, his hand trails down until it reaches the button of Julian’s jeans. But he doesn’t do anything—just rests his hand there, playing with the button. Either he’s waiting for permission or he’s teasing. 

“Take it off me,” Julian says. “Please. Take it off.”

Aaron doesn’t wait another second—he makes quick work of the button and zipper, and then he’s leaning back to pull it off Julian’s legs. Julian lifts his hips up, allowing Aaron to fully take the jeans off him. And then, Aaron quickly shucks his own pants off, and now they’re both down to their underwear.

“Come back,” Julian says, reaching for him. “You’re too far.”

Aaron quirks an eyebrow. “Patience, baby.”

“You’re teasing me on purpose.”

“Only because you react so beautifully.”

Before Julian can say anything else, Aaron starts pressing wet kisses to his thigh, working his way up. Julian sighs, resting his hand on Aaron’s hair when he’s close enough. Then, Aaron pushes Julian’s legs open so he can kiss the inside of his thigh. 

His skin there is quite sensitive, so Julian takes a deep breath and tries not to react too much, but fuck, he’s never been touched so thoroughly. The way Aaron’s lavishing his body with kisses is so unfamiliar yet enjoyable that he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself.

“Aaron…” Julian half-moans. “Please.”

Aaron nips on the inside of his thigh before returning to kiss Julian on the mouth again. He pulls away, eyes dark and pupils blown, and he’s breathing particularly hard. “I want to taste you everywhere.”

Julian caresses his face. “You can have whatever you want.”

He feels Aaron’s hand traveling down his stomach, then he grips Julian’s hip. A moment later, he smooths his palm up and down Julian’s upper thigh, creeping his fingers up and under the hem of Julian’s boxers. They kiss while Aaron massages his thigh and ass cheek, and then slowly, Aaron squeezes his fingers in deeper until Julian can feel him close to his entrance.

“Aaron,” Julian moans loudly now, “Stop teasing. Please.”

“Wanna taste you,” Aaron says, eyes impossibly dark with lust. Julian spreads his legs open, and that allows Aaron’s finger to reach Julian’s rim. “Wanna taste you here. Will you let me?”

If Julian didn’t have as much sexual experience as he does, he might’ve come right there. Instead, he just nods, feeling dizzy and hot and overwhelmed. Julian can’t seem to form words, so he just turns around until he’s on his hands and knees.

Julian feels shaky all over from excitement, which is weird, because he’s been eaten out before, though he’d always had to exaggerate his moans a bit. Nevertheless, this is Aaron . Who wouldn’t go insane over that?

“Relax,” Aaron says from behind him. He smooths his hands down Julian’s back, then massages his ass. “Put your head down. There you go.” 

Now, Julian’s face is pressed to the bed, leaving his ass high in the air. Aaron removes Julian’s boxers without another word, the piece of clothing landing in Julian’s periphery. He realizes he’s fully naked in front of Aaron now, and that makes his face feel even hotter than it already does. 

“Gorgeous,” Aaron says, his hands still exploring Julian’s skin. Then, he spreads Julian’s cheeks, swiping a thumb down the sensitive skin there, making Julian tremble in his position. “I’ll loosen you up with my tongue, and then I’ll fuck you. That sound good, baby?”

Julian bites his lip so hard he thinks it might bleed. “Yes. Please, Aaron.”

“No need to beg,” Aaron admonishes lightly. Then, in a lighter, more teasing tone, he adds, “We’ve got plenty of time for that in the future.”

Without another word, Julian feels something hot and wet against his entrance, and—fucking hell, that must be Aaron’s tongue. Julian suddenly feels like he’s made out of jelly, so Aaron has to grip him by the hip and hold him in place. Aaron licks and prods with his tongue, going quick and then slow, and Julian might just lose his fucking mind.

He turns his face into the bed to muffle his moans, gripping hard onto the sheets. He never realized just how useless every other man who’s eaten him out in the past was until now. Aaron knows what he’s doing, knows how to read Julian’s body like a book, knows how to play him like an instrument. 

“Don’t hide from me,” Aaron says, leaning forward to turn Julian’s head to the side. “You know I love hearing you.”

So Julian just lies there, mouth hanging open, as Aaron mercilessly uses that skillful tongue on him for long, unbelievable minutes. By the end of it, Julian’s already rock hard, his erection pressed to his stomach, red and hot. 

Aaron drops a kiss right to his entrance before pulling away. Then, Aaron drapes himself over Julian’s back like a blanket. “How was that?”

Julian opens his mouth, but can’t find the words. Aaron laughs fondly. “Well, we’re not done yet.”

Fucking hell. 

“C’mere, baby.”

Julian blinks to find Aaron seated now, his back against the headboard and his legs stretched out in front of him. He’s still in his boxers, for some reason, but Julian doesn’t question it. Instead, he crawls to Aaron and sits on his lap when Aaron orders him to. They’re face to face again, so Julian leans in for a kiss. 

“You feeling okay?” Aaron asks. His eyes dart all over Julian’s face. 

“Mhm.” Julian kisses him again.

“Alright. Just relax, okay?”

He does as told. They kiss and kiss some more, and then Aaron instructs Julian to spread his legs so they’re folded on either side of Aaron’s thighs. This position allows Aaron to pull him even closer until they’re chest to chest, and it also lets Aaron sneak a hand underneath Julian, fingers feeling for his entrance.

Julian moans against his lips when Aaron’s finger circles his rim, only touching and feeling at first. Julian hears the sound of a bottle opening, and then something cold—probably lube—is being spread around his entrance. Aaron caresses him there for a few more moments, until finally, he sinks a digit inside. Julian is loose enough from Aaron’s tongue that his finger can slide right in.

“You feel so tight.” Aaron’s voice sounds even deeper now, and the way he sucks on Julian’s lips is even hungrier. 

Julian has lost the ability to speak minutes ago, so he can only groan and whimper as Aaron fingers him, pumping his finger in and out, again and again, until he’s putting two fingers, and then three.

At this point, Julian rests his forehead on Aaron’s shoulder, looking down and partially seeing the repetitive movement of Aaron’s hand. All he hears is their heavy breathing and the squelching sound of Aaron’s fingers pumping in and out of him. 

“You ready for me?” Aaron says between pants. Julian meets his eyes, nodding, before reaching down to pull Aaron’s erection out from his boxers. He’s hard already, his dick thick and long, angry veins along the side. Aaron moans in his ear as Julian gives him a few pumps, watching as the head slips in and out of the circle of Julian’s palm.

“Fuck,” Aaron hisses, gripping Julian by his waist and lifting him up. Julian follows, limbs shaky, positioning himself right above Aaron’s length while Aaron lubes himself up. 

Then, Aaron urges him to sit on his length. Julian’s grip on Aaron’s shoulder tightens when he feels the cockhead press against his hole. He lowers himself even more, Aaron merely guiding him with his hands on his hips and letting Julian set the pace. 

Julian takes the head, making them both moan at the same time. Aaron’s arms are shaking where they’re holding Julian—like he’s fighting against the urge to slam Julian down and start fucking up to him—and Julian finds his restraint incredibly hot. 

He lets himself adjust around Aaron’s length for a bit, then he sinks lower, and lower, and finally, he’s fully seated.

“Jules,” Aaron bites out, his face sweaty and eyes all lust-crazy. “You’re—you feel good. You feel amazing, baby.”

In response, Julian kisses him. 

Julian bounces up and down, the stretch making him cross-eyed with pleasure despite the burning in his thighs. Aaron tightly grips his waist, helping Julian fuck himself on Aaron. Julian looks down again, gripping Aaron’s shoulders hard, looking at the spot where Aaron disappears inside him again and again. They go at it for a few minutes, until Aaron fucks up into him as well, both of them moving in tandem.

“Fuck, babe, I—” Aaron hisses, his breathing increasing. “Let me—” 

Suddenly, he wraps his arms around Julian’s back, moving them around so Julian’s on his back now, staring up at Aaron hovering over him. Aaron kisses him—filthy and hot and dirty—and then he hooks one of Julian’s legs over his shoulder. The new angle has Julian moaning even louder, and Aaron takes this as an invitation to pound into him with an intensity that has Julian shaking. 

“ Aaron… ” Julian’s voice is wrecked. 

“That feel good?” Aaron says, his hot breath fanning across the side of Julian’s face. Aaron slows down his thrusts, focusing on finding Julian’s spot, and when he does, he’s merciless. 

Julian grips onto his biceps, mouth hanging open as Aaron hits his spot again and again. He must be making some kind of sound, but he’s not sure anymore. Aaron has truly come and fucked him stupid.

“Almost there, baby,” Aaron says, wrapping a hand around Julian’s erection. He gives it a pump, and then another. “C’mon.”

Julian stares up at him, the intense feeling building up inside him, and then his vision quite literally whites out as he comes with a moan. Aaron doesn’t last much longer—he thrusts in a few more times, and then he stills, groaning into Julian’s neck as his body shakes.

Exhausted, Aaron falls on top of him, hot and sweaty. Julian wraps his arms around his back, wanting him closer still. 

“I love you,” Julian says, breathing hard.

He hears Aaron’s voice, but he can’t make sense of it. All he knows is that he’s warm and sated, and Aaron’s right here beside him.

Chapter Text

Julian wakes up to soft kisses being pressed to his skin. They’re feather-light touches, so gentle they could be mistaken for a subtle draft of wind.

But it’s Aaron.

Blinking the sleep away from his eyes, Julian finds Aaron leaning over him, one hand caressing Julian’s naked hip, and the other tracing Julian’s torso. Tracing the old, ugly wounds there.

Aaron leans in, kissing the scars, the touch so achingly soft, at such odds with the nature of those scars. Inexplicably, Julian feels as though each kiss washes away the dirtiness of every mark—not erasing them, but rewriting them. Reclaiming them.

Julian exhales shakily, unsure where the sudden tightness in his throat came from. He lifts a hand, brushing a strand of Aaron’s hair back behind his ear. “Good morning.”

“Morning, my love,” Aaron says with a grin, leaning in one more time to kiss the scar near his ribs, then kissing his way up Julian’s torso until he’s kissing Julian’s neck again. He takes time pressing his lips to the ugly bite mark there.

Julian swallows hard. The instinct to flinch is still there, lodged deep in muscle and bone, but it doesn’t win this time. “They’re not… they’re not exactly pretty.”

Aaron looks up. Without a word, he kisses Julian’s cheek, then his lips. Then, he simply says, “It’s you.”

He says it like that explains everything. Julian supposes it does, anyway. Aaron said he wanted to prove to Julian that Aaron isn’t going to run away in disgust, that he’s going to stay by Julian’s side no matter what. This is his way of showing that.

Julian says nothing, but the tightening in his throat increases. He pulls Aaron’s face closer, guides him back to his neck. And while Aaron peppers his sensitive skin with more gentle kisses, Julian stares up at the ceiling, his emotions suddenly overwhelming him.

Last night was all heat and skin and adrenaline—Julian didn’t really get the chance to get lost in his head much, mostly because Aaron had him completely preoccupied, completely hypnotized by his touch. However, he does remember it. Last night was nothing but hot pleasure and lust, but at the same time, Julian felt… safe. 

Not once did Julian feel suffocated by a touch. Not once was he pulled back into a terrible memory. Through it all, all he saw was Aaron. Just Aaron.

“Thank you,” Julian hears himself say after a moment, blinking away the sudden blurriness in his eyes. Aaron looks up, a questioning look in his eyes. So, Julian adds, “For last night.”

Aaron repositions himself so he’s resting his head on his folded arm, looking down at Julian. The softness in his eyes feels quite different today. He takes Julian’s hand, pressing his lips to the back of it. “Your trust means a lot to me. I… was it alright? I didn’t do anything to make you uncomfortable?”

He thinks for a moment. “No. I would’ve told you if I wanted you to stop doing something. You were great. You made me feel good.”

This seems to hit somewhere deep for Aaron. He lets out a deep breath, eyes going glassy for a second. “Good. That’s all I want.”

Julian sits up, playing with the blanket that’s pooled around his hips. He looks out the window, finding water droplets clinging to the glass. The light rain hums low and soft, making everything feel a bit like a dream.

“Is that…” Julian trails off. He looks back at Aaron. “Is that how it’s supposed to feel like?”

Aaron’s sitting beside him now, watching him closely. His Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. “Yes. You’re supposed to feel comfortable. It’s supposed to feel good.”

He nods slowly. He takes Aaron’s hand, playing with his fingers. After a moment, Julian finds himself asking, “What was your first time like?”

A distant smile appears on Aaron’s face. “Well. My first time with a girl happened in high school. Uh, she was my first girlfriend. It was… I mean, we didn’t really know what we were doing. It was kind of awkward, now that I think about it. But it was nice.” He pauses, pursing his lips. “Got my first boyfriend when I was a freshman in college. This one didn’t last very long, but the first few weeks were very intense. Learned everything I know now from him, I guess.”

Julian loves hearing these things from Aaron. He loves learning how normal Aaron’s life was growing up, and how different people’s experiences are when it comes to sex and relationships. Because sometimes, he gets so lost in his own world that he doesn’t know what’s normal and what’s not. And that makes him feel so isolated, sometimes, especially when it involves the topic of sex.

“My first time,” Julian starts, hesitating. It’s not a cute story, after all. However, Aaron squeezes his hand in comfort, as though to urge Julian on. So, Julian takes a deep breath. “Logan was my first time.”

The cold barrel of a gun. Strangers. The smell of gunpowder. Terror that shook him to his very core. Unimaginable pain he’d never known a person was capable of feeling. 

He refuses to look at Aaron’s face, but Julian feels his body tense next to him. Julian continues, ignoring the nauseous feeling in his stomach. “I was sixteen. The night they took me from home. He… he forced me. In my bedroom.”

Aaron’s hand trembles in his hold, so Julian caresses his skin, as though to calm him down. “They took me to the whorehouse after. Some of Logan’s men forced me, too. That same night. To ‘train’ me, they said. Then the clients. Logan showed up again a few months later, and I kind of became his favorite. Then he made me live with him.”

He’s not sure why he’s talking about this and why he’s doing it now. He just had sex with Aaron for the first time, and he loved it—enjoyed every second of it. It was the first time he’d felt safe, comfortable, and cared for during sex. And for some bizarre reason, he’s now thinking of all those times he’d had sex with every other guy, especially Logan. Perhaps the difference was just so stark that his brain couldn’t help but compare, but unfortunately, comparing meant revisiting those memories again.

“He liked me,” Julian says, his voice shaky. “But he also hurt me. A lot. I don’t… I don’t know how someone could be that way. How someone could so casually ruin someone’s life with no remorse. I couldn’t make sense of him. I tried so hard, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.”

Julian doesn’t realize he’s shaking until Aaron pulls him close. Still, Julian refuses to look at him. “How do people like him exist?” His voice cracks. “And why do people like me have to suffer for it?”

The first tear drops, and he feels it on his cheek. Julian wipes it away aggressively, furious that Logan has come and ruined another moment. That Julian allowed him by thinking about him and talking about him in the first place. 

Finally, Aaron speaks, and his voice is hoarse. “There is no logic in cruelty. There’s nothing to understand aside from the fact that none of it was your fault.”

Julian squeezes his eyes shut. “I hate that he still lives in my head like this.”

“I know,” Aaron whispers. “But you’re not there anymore. You’re here. With me.”

With a shaky breath, Julian turns to Aaron and falls fully into his embrace. He buries his face in Aaron’s neck, breathes in the scent of safety, and takes in his warmth. This is still all so new to him—the soft touches, the kindness. Even when he doesn’t want to, his mind takes him back to the worst moments of his life, and he gets a whiplash from it. It’s infuriating and confusing and terrifying, but he reminds himself that this is the only way to move forward. As much as he wants to forget it all, pretending nothing ever happened isn’t the right way to heal. 

And he wants to heal. Maybe not for himself just yet, but for Aaron, he wants to be better.

So he holds onto Aaron as tightly as he can and closes his eyes.

☾

Later that day, Aaron ignores Julian.

Well, not really. Aaron is actually busy reviewing for his exam, and that means he really has to focus on reading rather than paying attention to Julian.

But Julian doesn’t like not being the recipient of Aaron’s attention.

So, Julian joins Aaron on the living room couch. He snuggles up to Aaron’s side, and in response, Aaron distractedly throws an arm over Julian’s shoulder and pulls him closer. However, his eyes remain glued to the book on his lap, mumbling to himself as he highlights some passages.

“Aren’t you tired?” Julian asks, playing with the hair on the nape of Aaron’s neck. “You’ve been studying all day.”

“The exam is tomorrow,” Aaron says with a quiet sigh. “It’s better to be overprepared, right?”

Julian hums. He scooches closer until he’s practically on Aaron’s lap, yet Aaron still doesn’t look at him. He pouts. “But isn’t it better to just relax your brain the day before the exam? That’s what I used to hear. They say overloading your brain with information might actually be worse than just resting.”

Aaron hums, clearly only half-listening. He flips the page, eyes scanning the words, and then uncaps his highlighter before highlighting a passage. He doesn’t respond.

Julian sighs dramatically. He waits for Aaron to react, but Aaron probably didn’t even hear him. The guy’s way too focused on his book.

For a few moments, Julian just sits there, soaking up Aaron’s warmth and listening to nothing but the sound of pen on paper, as well as Aaron’s quiet mumblings. He rests his head on Aaron’s shoulder, looking down at what Aaron’s reading and finding nothing but a bunch of numbers and letters and other stuff Julian can’t make heads and tails of.

He’s bored.

He plays with the hem of Aaron’s shirt, his gaze landing on Aaron’s shorts. He comes up with an idea, and it makes him smirk to himself a bit. 

Stretching, Julian makes a show of sliding off the couch and sitting on the floor right in front of Aaron. Aaron’s too busy to even notice him, so Julian makes it to the space between his open legs without Aaron saying anything. At first, Julian just sits on the floor, his cheek resting on Aaron’s thigh. Almost absent-mindedly, Aaron reaches a hand out and runs his fingers through Julian’s hair. 

Sighing, Julian bites his cheek and rests his hand on Aaron’s thigh. Slowly, he drags it higher and higher, until his hand is right next to Aaron’s crotch.

Aaron still hasn’t noticed a thing.

Feeling bolder now—and slightly annoyed—Julian positions himself on his knees and rests his cheek directly on Aaron’s upper thigh, his mouth only inches away from Aaron’s crotch. Then, he takes his hand and uses it to play with the garter of Aaron’s shorts, right below his belly button.

That finally grabs Aaron’s attention.

He blinks down at Julian, and Julian looks up at him from under his lashes, putting on a look of half-innocence and half-mischief. 

“What are you doing?” Aaron asks, amused. 

“You’ve been ignoring me.”

Aaron laughs. “Babe, I’m trying to study.”

Julian sighs, moving his face a bit—teasingly—so the side of his face is practically resting on Aaron’s crotch area. “But I’m bored.”

Aaron laughs again, but this time, it sounds a bit strained. His throat bobs when he swallows. “You want my attention, is that it?”

“Mhm-hm.”

“Alright, well.” Aaron massages Julian’s scalp. “Just a few more hours, alright? Then we can do whatever you want.”

And just like that, Aaron goes back to reading his book. Julian is dumbfounded for a second, and then he spots the small smirk that Aaron is clearly trying to hide.

Ah. Perhaps Julian isn’t the only one in the mood for teasing right now.

“Aaron…” Julian drags his name out, half-pouting. “I didn’t know you could be mean to me.”

“I’m not being mean.”

Julian sighs. He pulls away, thinking of how to go about this. Then, he says, “You know what? You’re right. You really need to study, it’s an important exam.”

“Glad you understand.”

“So, stay focused, alright?” Julian tells him, leaning back in and shifting on his half-numb knees. “Don’t mind me.”

“What—”

Without another word, Julian yanks down Aaron’s shorts, revealing his back boxers. Aaron hisses when Julian cups his bulge, and then Julian leans down to kiss his length through the layer of clothing.

“Jules…” Aaron says, strained. “Baby—”

“What are you doing?” Julian pulls away, raising an eyebrow. “Keep studying. Pretend I’m not here.”

Then, Julian goes back in, slowly caressing Aaron to hardness with his hand. At the same time, he wets Aaron’s boxers with his hot breath, leaving kitten licks all over the cloth covering his dick, smirking to himself as he feels Aaron shudder above him. 

Aaron doesn’t say anything, but he tangles his hand in Julian’s hair, gripping the strands firmly. 

Julian peers up at him. Aaron is red-faced, eyes dark as he stares at Julian, book completely abandoned at the side. While maintaining eye contact, Julian licks a long stripe along Aaron’s cloth-covered cock, making Aaron groan.

“I’m bored, Aaron,” Julian says, purposefully making his voice lighter. More seductive. He bites his lip. “Can I?”

Aaron takes a deep breath, staring at Julian like he’s thinking of doing a bunch of sinful things to him as well. But then he swallows and gives Julian a single nod.

Julian smiles, and then he pulls Aaron’s half-hard dick out of his boxers. Julian spits on his palm and gives Aaron a few pumps, hypnotized by the sound of slick skin and hot, heavy breaths. He licks at the head for a few moments, getting it wet. Then, he puts the entire head in his mouth, the rest of Aaron’s length still wrapped in Julian’s fist.

“Fuck,” Aaron groans, the vibration of his voice traveling deep through Julian’s bones. “You feel amazing, baby.”

Julian preens from the praise. He spends another few good minutes sucking on the cockhead, the sound of Aaron’s groans and sighs like music to his ears. 

When Aaron’s fully hard, Julian goes deeper, relaxing his throat as he lets Aaron’s hard length penetrate deeper. Aaron’s grip tightens on his hair, but Julian likes it. Feels grounded by it.

“Jules…” Aaron groans again. “Shit...”

Julian keeps his hand around the rest of his length that isn’t in his mouth yet, and uses his thumb to massage Aaron’s balls. That makes Aaron involuntarily thrust up into Julian’s throat, making him choke.

“Fuck, sorry, sorry—” Aaron tries to guide Julian off his dick, but Julian shakes his head, looking at Aaron through the tears in his eyes. Aaron seems to get the message. He lets Julian do what he wants, merely loosening his hold on Julian’s hair.

Needless to say, Julian’s gag reflex is basically nonexistent at this point, so he recovers quite quickly and lets half of Aaron’s length sit in his throat like that for a few moments. Aaron just sits there, sighing in satisfaction, his fingers tracing calming patterns all over Julian’s skin.

Eventually, Julian shifts a bit on his knees, glancing up at Aaron. Aaron catches his eyes, and without a word, he reaches for one of the pillows on the couch and places them on the floor, right beside Julian. Julian lifts one knee at a time, letting Aaron slot the pillow beneath his bruising knees.

“You feel so fucking good,” Aaron says with a sigh. 

Julian inwardly smiles to himself, and then, without warning, he swallows the rest of Aaron’s length, deepthroating him without an issue. 

Aaron curses loudly, his entire body going rigid. Both of his hands fly to Julian’s hair, gripping the strands like his life depends on it.

“Fucking hell,” he hisses, throwing his head back. 

Julian starts to bob his head up and down, the sounds of Aaron’s heavy breathing and slick skin loud in the apartment. Julian’s head feels like it’s made out of cotton, his limbs numb in odd places, his jaw aching and sore, his lips feeling fully stretched around Aaron. But he wants this. It feels good. It feels good that he’s making Aaron feel good.

Just as he’s going to quicken his pace, he feels Aaron tapping his shoulder. “Wait, babe. Can you get off for a bit?”

Confused, Julian pulls back, coughing slightly as Aaron’s dick slides out of his mouth. It stands there, pink and hard and shiny with spit.

“C’mere,” Aaron says, patting his thigh. Julian follows his lead and sits on Aaron’s lap so they’re facing each other. Julian’s head feels a bit cloudy, and it must be evident in the way Julian looks, because Aaron’s gaze seems to darken when he gets to look at Julian up close. His eyes trail all over Julian’s face, from his eyes to his cheeks to his wet lips. 

Aaron presses his thumb to Julian’s lower lip, spreading the wetness around. His eyes are incredibly dark when he pushes his thumb inside, and on instinct, Julian sucks it into his mouth.

“You have no idea how hot you look right now,” Aaron says, voice low and rough. “You did so well. Took me so well.”

Julian nods, still sucking on Aaron’s thumb. Aaron stares at his lips, then replaces his thumb with his middle finger and ring finger. Julian just takes it.

“Here’s what I want you to do,” Aaron whispers into his ear, his hot breath sending shivers down Julian’s spine. “I want you to sit on my cock. Just warm my cock while I study. And you’ll only come when I say so. What do you think?”

Julian’s whimper is muffled by the fingers in his mouth, but the mere thought of it has him grinding his ass on Aaron’s dick. Aaron notices this and tuts, using his other hand to grip his hip and stop him from moving. “That a yes?”

He nods quickly, feeling saliva pooling in the corner of his mouth, dripping all over Aaron’s fingers.

Aaron grins at him—a hot, dangerous smile. “Okay. Open yourself up for me.”

Aaron helps him out of his clothes, and then he squeezes some lube onto Julian’s hand. Julian reaches behind to finger himself. He continues to suck on Aaron’s fingers as he circles his rim, loosening it enough so he can insert his finger in there, all while maintaining eye contact with Aaron. 

Meanwhile, Aaron just sits back, eyes dark as he watches Julian open himself up for him, occasionally pumping his fingers in and out of Julian’s mouth, as though mimicking the movements Julian is doing to his own entrance.

And it’s so incredibly fucking hot.

“You ready?”

Julian’s got three fingers inside himself now, so he nods quickly, feeling his dick harden. Aaron reaches behind him, pulling Julian’s own fingers out of his ass before inserting his own. 

Julian moans, the feeling of Aaron’s thicker, longer fingers sending heat all over his insides. Aaron fingers him for a few minutes, three fingers pounding in and out, as though he wants to make sure Julian truly is ready for him.

“That feel good?” Aaron’s voice is all dark and rough, making Julian feel light-headed.

All he can do is nod. Both his ass and mouth are stuffed—he can hardly think at all.

Finally, Aaron pulls his fingers out. His ass and mouth suddenly feel empty, and he must’ve made some kind of sound of complaint, because Aaron smiles softly at him and kisses him on the mouth. “Patience.”

The next thing he knows, Aaron’s gripping him by the hips, helping him sit down on Aaron’s dick. Julian closes his eyes, enjoying the stretch, arms braced on Aaron’s shoulders. He takes Aaron inch by inch until he’s fully seated, and then Aaron takes his face and hungrily kisses him, sucking on his lower lip and exploring his mouth with his tongue.

Julian just sits there, feeling incredibly full.

“Alright,” Aaron says, pulling away, his lips slick and red. “Quiet now, hmm? I’m gonna read.”

Julian holds back a whimper, resting his head on Aaron’s shoulder as Aaron reaches for his book once more and starts fucking highlighting some random mathematical formula. 

Julian sits on his lap, feeling stuffed full by his cock, unable to do anything but drool on Aaron’s shoulder. It’s torture and pleasure all in one. 

He doesn’t know if Aaron’s just acting or if he’s actually understanding anything he’s reading, but either way, Julian’s limbs increasingly start to feel like they’re made entirely out of jelly. Aaron moves every now and then, and the movement jostles Julian, and sometimes, it makes Aaron’s dick hit his prostate, making Julian moan. At first, Julian thought it was just an accident, but Aaron did it a couple more times, and now Julian knows the guy just really likes to tease him.

“You’re doing amazing,” Aaron whispers, wrapping his arm around Julian’s waist and pulling him in impossibly closer. “You make me feel so fucking good.”

Julian whimpers, shifting a bit and feeling Aaron’s length buried deep inside him. He wraps his arms around Aaron’s neck, face buried in his neck.

“Tell me how you feel, Jules.”

It takes his brain a few seconds to come up with a response. “G-good. I feel really good.”

“And what are you thinking right now?”

Julian says nothing at first, caught in a place where there’s nothing but warmth and pleasure and Aaron. He presses wet kisses to Aaron’s neck, tasting the saltiness of his skin. 

“I’m… not. I’m not thinking of anything. Just that you feel so good inside me.”

Aaron groans lowly, the vibrations sending goosebumps all over Julian’s skin. 

“Good,” Aaron says, his voice dark. “That’s good.” 

Julian nods against his skin, speechless but incredibly sated. “And you? What’re you thinking?”

Even without seeing his face, Julian hears the smile in his voice.

“I’m thinking about how badly I want to bend you over the table and fuck you til you come.”

That's definitely something Julian can get behind.

☾

On Tuesday, Julian finds himself alone at the apartment. 

Usually, Aaron’s always around, but today is Aaron’s engineering exam. The same exam he’s been preparing for for months now. Last night, Aaron was extremely anxious about it, and while a few rounds of sex definitely helped relax him, Julian still had to forcibly remove the book from his hands, telling him that he had reviewed the material enough and studying the night before the exam would likely do more bad than good. 

Thankfully, Aaron listened. Julian made him a light meal for dinner paired with tea, and then he sent him off to bed. When Julian woke up this morning, Aaron was already gone, but he remembers Aaron pressing a kiss to his forehead early in the morning as a quick goodbye. When he walked out into the kitchen, he also found a post-it note on the fridge of Aaron saying he’d prepared breakfast for Julian and that he should just microwave it when he wakes up.

Aaron wasn’t comfortable with Julian going to work when he wasn’t around, so Julian decided to skip work today. 

Now, Julian lounges in the living room, the TV playing some action movie. He checks the time and realizes Aaron won’t be home til a few hours, so he sighs sadly and decides to leave Aaron a message. 

Aaron must be driving or busy, though, because he doesn’t respond right away.

“Lame,” Julian grumbles, before tossing his phone on the couch and trying to pay attention to the movie.

It works for a few minutes. Julian actually gets distracted by the movie, rooting for the main character and getting tempted to skip the suspenseful scenes just to get to the ending to find out if they succeed or not, but he ends up actually watching the whole thing. Literally sitting on the edge of his seat, biting his nails.

And then, there’s a knock on the door. 

Julian flinches, accidentally dropping the remote. There’s a split second where he stares at the door, an inexplicable, foreboding feeling washing over him, watching as the shadow moves through the small gap under the door.

Who could that be?

For some reason, his instincts tell him not to answer the door. So, he lowers the volume of the TV and just sits there, watching the shadow. Gradually, he feels his heartbeat pick up in his chest, making his throat feel dry.

Later, when he realizes it’s nothing and that he’s just overthinking as usual, he’ll laugh it off and feel stupid. But right now, Julian lets himself follow his gut instinct, not making a single sound.

Eventually, after a few minutes of knocking, the mysterious person finally leaves. Julian watches as the shadow disappears, and only then is he able to breathe properly again. However, he notices some kind of object blocking the light from the hallway, leaving a shadow through the gap of the door. 

The person must’ve left something in front of the door, then.

Julian debates whether he should wait for Aaron to get home before attempting anything, but then he decides he’ll be quick. He’ll open the door, snatch what must be some kind of package into the apartment, and then lock up again.   

He stands, ignoring his clammy hands and peeking through the peephole first. Once he’s confirmed that truly no one is out there, he quickly yanks the door open, then blinks down at the mysterious object.

It’s a bouquet of flowers. Carnations, to be exact.

He looks around, finding the hallway empty, then grabs the bouquet and steps back into the apartment. He makes sure to lock the door behind him before taking a closer look at the flowers, his initial curiosity morphing into something more cautious.

Did Aaron send him this? It wouldn’t be the first time—Aaron sent him those tulips at work the other day, didn’t he? 

Yet, for some reason, Julian feels more doubtful this time around.

He reluctantly places the bouquet on the coffee table, allowing himself to admire the soft petals. And then, something else catches his attention. 

There’s a small card tucked amongst the flowers, and Julian slowly reaches for it. Instead of printed words like the previous bouquet, this note is handwritten.

You’re mine. Don’t forget.

Julian’s blood runs cold, his heart suddenly hammering in his chest. The shock of it leaves him frozen for a second, just staring, feeling the gears in his head turning but not being able to fully process anything just yet. He doesn’t know how long he stands there, staring at the familiar handwriting, reading it over and over again. He doesn’t know how it’s possible for his heart to beat so fast without it completely giving out. 

This isn’t from Aaron. He knows that for a fact. 

Something takes over his body—it’s as though the overwhelming emotions inside him have made him completely numb. Now, he’s just functioning on autopilot; he reaches for his phone, dials Aaron’s number, and waits.

He waits and waits as Aaron’s phone rings, and when Aaron still doesn’t pick up after Julian attempts to call him for the fourth time, the dread building up in his chest becomes unbearable. It chokes him, makes his vision all blurry, and then suddenly he can’t breathe. 

He can’t fucking breathe.

“Pick up, please, please…” Julian whimpers, curling up on the couch, arms wrapped around his knees. The TV is nothing but white noise now, senseless dialogue and muted explosions.

But then he notices something he didn’t notice earlier—there, behind the flowers, the corner of an envelope peeks out. Almost as if he’s in a trance, Julian pulls it out, hands shaking.

He forces himself to rip it open, and then he takes a peek inside. Immediately, he drops it on the floor from shock, feeling sick to his stomach.

On the floor, the contents of the envelope scatter. They’re photographs. So many of them. Photographs of Julian and Aaron walking side by side, smiling at each other, photographs of that time they went to the Echo Valley Fest, photographs of Julian at work, behind the counter, looking bored. Photographs of Martha and Annie with Aaron, photographs of Steven, Casey, and Tommy. 

A sob tears itself out of Julian’s throat when he sees Rose’s smiling face in one of the pictures—it’s from when they went to the park just recently, with Rose and Aaron laughing and chasing each other in the park. There are also pictures of Emily, Raymond, even Julian’s co-worker Ollie, Julian’s boss, Richard—anyone and everyone Julian has spent a significant amount of time with.

Julian backs away from the pictures, the air thickening as if the walls themselves might close in and collapse. Another sob tears through his chest, ragged and uncontrollable. His stomach turns violently, bile rising before he even has time to brace himself.

He doubles over with a choked gag, and then he throws up right there on the living room floor, the sound wet and awful against the silence. His hands hit the floor to steady himself, but the world is spinning, tilting, like it’s trying to shake him off. The acid burns his throat, his nose, but he barely registers it.

He trembles, his body feeling cold all over, and still, Aaron refuses to pick up. 

Julian loses it.

He stands, every part of him trembling, grabbing the bouquet and throwing it hard against the wall. Then, he stomps on the flowers, every single petal, stomps on them again and again until they’re destroyed and unrecognizable. He takes the card and rips it into many pieces, fingers trembling as he does so. Julian’s chest heaves with heavy breaths, sudden, heavy sobs escaping from his mouth. 

He looks around the apartment, at the mess of flowers and the scattered pictures, the puddle of sick on the floor, half-terrified that someone would leap from the shadows. He screams, “Leave me alone! What more do you want from me?!”

For a moment, he doesn’t recognize his own voice. He sounds like a scared little boy, the same boy who cried and trembled the first time Logan ever put his hands on him, the same boy who was convinced he was about to die. He sounds hysterical, manic—terrified beyond belief.  

This can’t be happening. Not again.

He needs Aaron to come home and tell him he’s just being insane, that those flowers are completely normal, that there’s nothing to be scared of, that this is all in his head. That those pictures aren’t real, and if they are, then they mean something else. 

But Aaron’s not answering him. 

What if something had happened to Aaron? What if someone has been waiting this entire time for the two of them to get separated? What if Aaron is hurt, and that’s why he can’t pick up Julian’s calls? 

Whatever panic he’s feeling suddenly triples, and for a moment, he’s certain that he’s going to pass out. The room spins, and he stumbles, using the wall to keep himself standing. He grabs the strands of his hair and harshly pulls, yanks and twists and tugs until he feels more clear-headed from the pain.

He forces himself to take deep breaths. He needs to think. Aaron might be in danger. There is only one person those flowers are from, and if Julian’s suspicions are true, then those flowers are a threat. It means he knows where Julian works, can get to where he lives, and he likely knows where Aaron is right now, too. 

Julian can’t lose him. Julian would rather die than fucking lose Aaron. He can’t do it. 

So, he stumbles to his room, grabbing a random jacket and slipping it on. He takes his phone, wallet, everything he might need, and he leaves the apartment.

He needs to find Aaron. He needs to make sure he’s okay. 

Julian blinks at the bright lights in the hallway, and then the next second, he suddenly finds himself on the sidewalk, walking down an unfamiliar street. 

He abruptly stops walking, his panic-ridden mind unable to make sense of how he got here. Someone bumps into him from behind, and the stranger curses at him, telling him to get out of the way.  

Julian presses himself to the side of a building, his heart thundering in his chest and making it impossible to think. How the fuck did he get here? Did he lose time again? He doesn’t know where he is, and he still hasn’t found Aaron.  

It’s night, the sky deep and dark. It’s raining, too, big fat drops painting the pavement a darker gray. Only then does he notice that he’s soaking wet from head to toe, his jacket doing nothing to protect him from the rain. He’s in flip-flops, leaving his feet exposed to the cold. 

“F-fuck.” Julian shakily reaches for his pocket. His wallet’s in here—but there’s no cash. His best guess is that he’s probably spent it already, maybe on a cab. Then, he looks for his phone, letting out a sigh of relief when he finds it. However, it doesn’t turn on when he presses the power button, and Julian suspects it has something to do with the fact that his phone is completely drenched by the rain. 

He feels like crying and curling up in a ball, just sitting here until someone finds him, but Aaron needs him, so he takes a deep breath and forces himself to think. He looks around, taking in the various storefronts, the noisy streets, graffiti on the walls, the trash everywhere, and the endless line of homeless people on every block. 

He finds street names, and with a sinking stomach, he realizes where he is.

Somehow, Julian’s been heading for the whorehouse.

The realization makes his knees buckle. He ends up sitting on the wet pavement, only partially blocked from the rain by a shop’s overhang. He looks to his left, and just a few more blocks away, he can spot the alleyway that leads right to the whorehouse. His personal hell. 

Why the fuck is he here?

Suddenly, Julian wonders if the whole thing with the bouquet of flowers and the stalker photos was real at all. Did that actually happen? Or is he having some kind of psychotic episode right now? There’s a gaping black hole in his memory, and he doesn’t know how he got from the apartment to here. 

All he knows now is that he’s terribly cold to the point of numbness. His teeth chatter violently, and it feels like the cold goes straight to his bones. He blends in perfectly here—no one would look at him twice. They’d think he’s just another runaway teen, or a drug-addict whore, or a homeless boy. He belongs.

As he stares at the road in front of him, of the cars dashing past and people walking by, he realizes how easy it is to just disappear. How easy it would be to just sit here and let the cold claim him once and for all. He’d close his eyes as though to sleep, and then that would be it. No more waking up. No more battling with his past. No more anything. 

Right now, it doesn’t sound so terrible. 

Julian feels his eyes droop, and there’s this intense feeling of sleepiness that slowly and surely pulls him in. He’s numb all over, feeling like he’s made of nothing but weak, trembling bones. 

He’s just so, so tired. 

But he needs to find Aaron. He needs to make sure Aaron is safe.

Julian musters whatever strength he has left to stand, walking even though he feels like his limbs might just fall off at any moment. He walks to the nearest phone booth, thankfully finds a few coins in his pocket, and then dials Aaron’s number.

He waits, trembling so violently he nearly drops the phone twice.

“Hello?”

The sound of Aaron’s voice immediately has Julian relaxing. He can almost cry from relief. However, there’s a frantic edge to Aaron’s voice, which tells Julian something might have happened.

“A-are you o-okay?” Julian says, and it comes out in a pitiful, hoarse whisper. 

A pause, and then, “Julian? Thank fucking god!” Aaron says, and it sounds like he’s on the brink of tears. “Fuck, baby, I’ve been so worried, I was just about to go the the police. What happened? Where are you? Please tell me where you are. I’ll come get you. Are you hurt?”

Julian sniffles. “I’m not sure where I am. You weren’t answering my calls.”

“I’m sorry, fuck, I wasn’t allowed to use my phone during the exam,” Aaron says, and he sounds like he’s in a place where there are many people. Urgently, he says, “Jules, tell me where you are. It’s not safe.”

“Did you see it?” Julian asks, his voice cracking. “The flowers and the pictures?”

“Yes,” Aaron breathes out. “I went home as soon as I saw your calls and you weren’t picking up, then I saw all of this, and I couldn’t find you. I assumed the worst.” He hears Aaron take a shaky breath. “Tell me where you are. Please.” 

Julian swallows. “So it’s all r-real?”

Part of him hoped he was just imagining things. That it was just a nightmare, something his brain conjured out of fear. But it’s really happening. Someone actually sent those flowers with that threatening note, and with all those stalkerish photos. Photos of everyone Julian knows and cares about. 

Photos of every single person that could be used against him.

“... are? Jules? I’m in the car, driving, I just need you to—”

“It’s Logan,” Julian hears himself cry, his voice hoarse. He collapses against the side of the phone booth, trembling. “Aaron, he’s g-gonna take me again—”

“No, that’s not happening, I swear to you—”

“I can’t go back there!” Julian’s voice breaks, high and ragged. A sound tears from his throat, something between a sob and a scream. “I’d rather die, I’d rather fucking die than go back there!”

“Julian!” Aaron’s voice is loud and firm, and it’s enough to cut through the storm in his head. “Jules, I need you to take a deep breath. Listen to me. Are you listening to me?”

Julian hugs himself, choking on a sob. “Aaron, I can’t—”

“Are you listening to me?” 

Julian squeezes his eyes shut, dizzy from all the thoughts running inside his head, but he forces himself to calm down. Tries to listen to nothing but Aaron’s voice. “Y-yes. I’m listening.”

“Good.” Aaron’s voice remains firm, but there’s a subtle shakiness to it. “Look around you. Do you see any street signs? Any landmarks that can tell you where you are?”

He follows Aaron’s instructions. He tells Aaron the name of the street he’s on, and Aaron tells him to stay on the phone as he drives there.

“Hey.” There’s a man outside the phone booth, his beard thick and crusted with what must be bits and pieces of food. Based on his tattered clothing, he’s probably one of the homeless people in the area. He knocks on the phone booth’s transparent door. “Ya done, kid? My turn.”

Julian tightens his hold on the phone, keeping a wary eye on the man. “No, sir. Just a few more minutes.”

The guy stares at him, eyes dark from what must be drugs or alcohol. “Ya been there for a while.”

“Just a few more minutes,” Julian tells him, wiping at the tears on his cheeks. “Sorry.”

“Who are you talking to?” It’s Aaron. He sounds agitated and concerned at the same time. “Julian, who’s there with you?”

Julian turns away from the homeless man, sniffling. “Just some guy waiting for the phone.”

“Okay. I’m almost there. Stay where you are.”

Standing inside the phone booth, Julian starts to feel suffocated. It’s a small space, after all, and the homeless guy staring at him from the other side of the door isn’t helping. But he stays put because that’s what Aaron told him to do, and Aaron only ever wants what’s best for him.

“Why’re you crying, babe?” the homeless man says, his voice muffled by the plastic door. “Yer too pretty to be cryin’ now.”

Julian remains turned away from him, ignoring the unease crawling across his skin. He’s almost forgotten what it’s like to be in this part of town, which is odd, because he used to encounter things like this every day. He was so well-versed in dealing with handsy randoms on the street, knew the exact things to say to turn down guys without escalating things. But Julian hasn’t been that version of himself in a while, and it’s such a cruel twist of fate to be dropped right back into the thick of it like nothing happened.

“C’mon, baby,” the man says, trying to pry the door to the phone booth open. “I can get you some food. Ya miss your mommy and daddy?”

There’s a lock on the phone booth, but it’s flimsy—barely holding. Julian has to brace the door shut with his own weight, because if he doesn’t, the man might actually be able to force it open. 

“Go away,” Julian says, but it sounds pathetic even to himself. “Please. I’m just waiting for someone.”

“You can come wait with me, darling,” the man says, grinning to reveal rows of yellow teeth. He yanks the door open again, and Julian’s heart leaps to his throat when the movement manages to dislodge the lock. Julian holding the door is the only thing keeping it closed, now.

“Fuck off,” Julian hisses, eyes blurry with tears. 

Distantly, he can hear Aaron’s voice through the phone, but he can’t make sense of it. He’s too busy keeping the door closed, or else this man might get inside. 

“C’mon, I’ll buy you a meal. You gotta be starving.” His gaze drags over Julian, slow and deliberate, and something sharp flickers in his eyes. Hunger. He yanks the door open again, and this time, Julian isn’t strong enough to hold it in place.

“I said leave me alone,” Julian grits out. There’s no use staying here, and he’d rather be outside than be trapped in the phone booth with this fucker, so he shoves the door open harshly, slamming it into the man. The man stumbles backward from the force of it, and Julian takes that opportunity to dash out of the booth, looking for somewhere else to go. 

He doesn’t make it very far. A hand wraps around his arm, and then he’s being yanked backward, spun around to face the man who’s been hounding him for the past few minutes. 

“Watcha in a hurry for? C’mon, I know a place you can dry off—”

“Let go,” Julian hisses, trying to pry the man’s rough hands from his arm. 

The man ignores him, wearing a smirk. “You got a name?”

Julian stares at him, keeping his face passive. Then, he spits directly in his face. “Fuck. Off.”

He slowly raises a hand to wipe away Julian’s spit on his face, and this time, there’s no more playfulness on his face. He looks at Julian, eyes dark. “I see how it is.”

One moment he’s standing there trying to free himself, and then, without warning, pain explodes across his cheek. He’s suddenly hitting the pavement hard, the rough concrete tearing at his skin as the world tilts and blurs around him.

Julian looks up, finding the man looming over him. This fucker just slapped him. 

He sits on the wet concrete for a second, looking up at the heavens, wondering how fucking worse this day could get.

“C’mon,” the stranger says, grabbing Julian’s arm and trying to yank him to his feet. “Let’s—”

Suddenly, the grip on Julian is gone. The man’s yanked back and slammed to the pavement with a thud. Julian stares, breathless, as Aaron steps between them, chest heaving, fists clenched, and a fire blazing in his eyes.

Quickly, Julian stumbles to his feet. Aaron looks at him over his shoulder. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m okay. Just some guy being an asshole.” Julian holds onto Aaron from behind, feeling slightly better now that he’s hidden behind Aaron’s frame. “Let’s go, I really want to—”

“Who the fuck are you?” the guy’s voice booms. “I found him first.”

Julian flinches. The guy’s already pushing off the ground, his boots scraping against the pavement as he stands. He looks even bigger now, all fury and swagger, like getting knocked down only made him angrier. His face is twisted up, eyes wild.

Julian tugs on Aaron’s hoodie. “Let’s just go,” he says, voice low, almost pleading. “Aaron. Please.”

But Aaron doesn’t budge.

He turns to face the man fully, his stance wide and steady. His fists are already curled so tight at his sides they’re shaking. His whole body’s tense, humming like a live wire. “You hit him.”

His voice is calm. Too calm. The kind of calm that makes Julian’s stomach drop.

The guy snorts. “What, he your bitch or something?”

That’s all it takes.

Aaron lunges, no warning. His fist crashes into the guy’s face with a brutal, echoing crack that makes Julian flinch backward. The man stumbles, but before he can even react, Aaron tackles him, driving him straight into the pavement. Hard.

Julian’s heart lurches.

The guy’s head hits the ground with a dull thud, and Aaron’s already on top of him, fists flying. One, two, three hits, fast and hard. The man grunts, trying to shield his face, but Aaron doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even slow down. His punches are savage, full-body swings fueled by something else entirely.

Julian stands there, frozen. There’s something about the way Aaron is moving—the lack of control and the utter rage in his movements. It reminds him of that time he and Logan got into a fight all those months ago. 

Aaron has been worried sick about Julian, after all, has been looking for him for who knows how many hours. He can only imagine how he must’ve felt when he walked into the apartment to find the ruined bouquet of flowers, as well as the stalkerish photos scattered all over the floor. During the time he couldn’t reach Julian, he must’ve assumed the worst. He must’ve thought Julian had been taken again, must’ve been thinking that all of his nightmares had come true.

And now, he finds some creep harassing Julian. All the stress and fear and terror must’ve built up, and it was always only a matter of time before he snapped.

There’s blood now—smearing across the guy’s face, dark and fast and too much. He’s stopped fighting back. Just writhing beneath Aaron, groaning, trying to roll away. But Aaron grabs him by the collar and slams him back down, punching again. And again. His knuckles are already split, skin peeling, but he doesn’t even seem to feel it.

Julian's breath catches in his throat. His mind flies back to that day, when it was Logan on top of Aaron like this, beating him senseless, punching him again and again until Julian was convinced Aaron wasn’t going to make it out alive. 

Is Aaron seeing Logan’s face beneath him right now?

“Aaron,” he says, barely above a whisper. “Stop.”

No response.

“Aaron,” louder now. Still nothing.

It’s like he’s not there, like the Aaron Julian knows has left the room and something else is sitting in his place. Something darker. Something that doesn’t care if it kills a man right here on the sidewalk.

Julian moves before he can think better of it.

He grabs Aaron’s arm mid-swing, wraps both hands around it. “Aaron,” he says again, louder, sharper. “Stop. That’s enough.”

Aaron freezes.

His fist stays in the air for a second, shaking, before it drops uselessly to his side. He’s panting hard, eyes locked on the man below him—barely conscious, bloodied, a wet bubbling sound coming from somewhere in his throat.

Julian watches Aaron pull back like he’s waking from a nightmare. His eyes are wide, unfocused. His mouth opens like he wants to say something, but nothing comes out. He looks… lost. Horrified, even.

Julian steps in, carefully, gently placing a hand against Aaron’s cheek. It’s hot and damp with sweat. His skin feels like it’s buzzing beneath Julian’s fingers.

“Hey,” Julian says quietly. 

Aaron looks at him. And it’s like the fight drains out of him all at once. His shoulders slump. His breathing stutters.

Julian searches his face. Past the rage, past the adrenaline, he sees it: the fear. Not of the man on the ground, not of getting caught, but of himself. Of what he just did. Of what he was willing to do.

“I’m okay,” Julian says, softer now. “We’re okay.”

Aaron nods slowly, eyes still locked on Julian’s. His hands are shaking. Blood is smeared down his arms.

He lets out a shaky breath and curls his fingers around Aaron’s wrist. Behind them, the homeless man groans, coughing weakly into the pavement. Sirens wail somewhere in the distance.

Julian doesn’t move. Neither does Aaron. They just stand there, the cold night air thick with sweat and blood.

Chapter Text

Over the phone, Aaron’s voice is shaky.

“I’m so sorry, Jules.”

His voice is scratchy. Julian imagines him in front of the phone booth, the receiver pressed to his mouth—a dark, haunted look to his eyes. 

Julian swallows. “Are you okay?” 

Aaron lets out a long sigh. It comes out choppy, interrupted by the sound of static. Behind Julian, he can hear Emily and Raymond talking, but their voices are muffled. 

“I’m fine. I… I already got to talk to a lawyer. They’ve gotten my mugshot and everything.” There’s so much shame and regret in Aaron’s voice, and it makes Julian’s stomach twist up.

It’s already been a few hours since the whole incident with the homeless man. Aaron had beaten the guy to unconsciousness, and for a moment, Julian even thought the man wouldn’t wake again. He thought the man was dead.

Aaron came down from his rage almost as quickly as it took over him, though. He realized what he’d done and tried to help the man he’d hurt. 

In the midst of everything, a passerby spotted them and called an ambulance. As a result, Aaron and Julian were questioned, and several witnesses had seen Aaron attack the guy. They put a particular emphasis on how Aaron continued to hit him even when the man wasn’t fighting back anymore. 

Emily told him it could be a potential assault and battery case. 

Julian hasn’t seen Aaron since then. They had Aaron ride a police car right from the scene, and Julian was escorted to Emily’s place by a separate cop car. 

He thinks back to it—to when Aaron was being pulled away from him, the officer putting handcuffs on him. 

The sheer regret and terror in Aaron’s eyes are something Julian will never forget. Knowing Aaron, he’s probably even more worried for Julian than he is for himself. But for Julian, he can’t even think about anything but Aaron—he wants him out of whatever dirty holding cell they’ve got him in. He wants him here, right beside him, where Julian can see that he’s safe.

But he can’t.  

Aaron’s arraignment won’t be for a few days, which is when they’ll find out if Aaron will be granted bail to await trial at home.

Julian can’t fucking wait that long. Especially not now.

“The man is currently hospitalized,” Aaron says, his voice low. Broken. “Concussion. A few broken bones.” His voice cracks. “I-I fucked up, Jules. I really fucked up. I’m sorry.” 

Truth be told, he couldn’t give less of a fuck about that man. Maybe it makes him a terrible person, but he doesn’t care if that man never wakes up again. And even in that case, he wouldn’t blame Aaron for anything. Aaron was under a ton of stress, was worried sick because Julian was a fucking idiot for leaving the apartment in the first place, and Aaron is but a man. Julian always commended him for his control, for his mildness, and for not resorting to violence, but Julian knew Aaron was just trying to protect him. 

Everything just got so messed up, and instead of completing his engineering exam and getting his license, Aaron is now going to trial, potentially facing jail time for beating a man to a pulp. 

And it’s all because of Julian.

He takes a shaky breath, gripping the ends of his hair and pulling harshly until he can feel the pain spreading across his scalp. Emily and Raymond are still having a heated discussion in their bedroom, while Julian sits on the living room couch, the tea and snacks Emily prepared for him now sitting cold on the coffee table. Rose isn’t here—she’s apparently with a playmate and won’t be back for a few hours.

“Jules,” Aaron says after a beat of silence. There’s a sudden seriousness in his voice now, only barely covering up his distress. “Is Em with you right now?”

“Yes.”

“Can I talk to her really quickly?”

Julian knows Aaron has limited time on the phone. So he quietly gets up, limbs feeling weak and shaky as he knocks on the bedroom door. Emily and Raymond go mute at the sound, and when Emily opens the door—pale and wide-eyed—Julian wordlessly passes the phone over to her.

Emily brings the phone to the kitchen, away from where Julian can eavesdrop. He watches from a distance as Emily looks increasingly more distressed, her shoulders tensing up and her mouth pinched into a tight line. Julian suspects Aaron’s telling Emily all about the flowers and stalker photos Julian received. When Julian thinks about it, his blood still runs cold and he feels light-headed from fear. But the whole thing has taken a backseat lately, what with Aaron being taken from him and put in a fucking holding cell.

Julian can’t do this without Aaron. He just can’t.

“Hey,” Raymond’s voice startles him. He turns and finds the man watching him worriedly. “It looks like you haven’t touched your food. Do you want me to make you something for dinner?”

Shaking his head, Julian steps away. “I’m not hungry.”

Raymond’s gaze pierces through him, sharp and calculating. “You should still eat something.”

Frankly, Julian doesn’t even want to fucking breathe right now, much less eat. Aaron is stuck at the police station, and there’s no guarantee he’ll be granted bail at all. And what the fuck will happen if Aaron gets jail time? How long til Julian sees him again? What if he gets seriously hurt in there? What if he realizes all of this is happening to him now because of Julian and rightfully starts to despise him?

The mere thought of it has Julian’s chest seizing up painfully. Fuck. He needs Aaron here right now. Just yesterday, he was surrounded by Aaron’s warmth, his touch, his deep voice, and now he’s fucking gone. 

Julian’s all alone now.

“I’ll make you some soup,” Raymond says decidedly. “Chicken sound good?”

Julian ignores him. He brushes past Raymond and heads for the door, once again paying Raymond no mind when he calls his name. He feels claustrophobic in the apartment with everyone breathing down his neck. He just needs some fucking air.

He heads for the stairwell, the door slamming loudly behind him as it swings shut. It’s dark and smells of leftover cigarette smoke and rust, but it’s as far as he’s willing to go. He’s not stupid enough to leave the apartment with Logan’s threat hanging over his head. 

Leaning against the cracked, peeling wall, Julian buries his face in his hands. He listens to the distant echoes of stairwell doors opening and closing on other floors, listens to the muffled voices here and there. Quiet footsteps, echoey snippets of conversations. He tries to let all of it ground him. 

But then he sees Aaron’s face—blood-splattered and pale—burned into his memory. That image doesn’t leave. It sticks like it’s been carved into the back of his eyelids. He hears Aaron’s voice again, replaying through the static of his mind: the flatness, the defeat, the quiet edge of regret. Aaron, who’s supposed to be unshakable. Aaron, who bled and fought and now has a criminal record because of him.

The silence around him only makes it worse. It leaves space for Logan’s words to slither back in. Those damned flowers. Those photographs. The promise that Logan was close, watching, circling like a predator who had all the time in the world.

It’s all too much. His chest tightens, air catching sharp in his throat. He feels it break inside him, like a dam giving way. His breath shudders out, uneven, and before he can stop himself, the weight of everything crashes down.

Julian breaks. 

He sits on the ground, muffling his sobs in his hands as best as he can. He feels his entire frame shake from the sobs being ripped out of him, the cold breeze from the open window leaving goosebumps on his skin.

He wishes Aaron were here. Aaron would know what to say. He’d know how to get Julian to calm down. He’d know how to ease his worries, and he’d know what to do to keep him safe from Logan. But he’s not here, and Julian feels that absence like a phantom limb.

But he’s always known, hasn’t he? It has all come crashing down, just as he’d feared.

Julian doesn’t know how long he sits and cries there. He just lets the fear and stress of the whole day roll off him in waves. It’s been a while since he’s felt this kind of utter hopelessness, and it scares him. It terrifies him to his fucking bones. 

Eventually, the door beside him creaks open. Julian keeps his face buried in his palms, his knees pulled up to his chest as quiet footsteps approach him. The person stands in front of him, not saying anything at first.

Then, there’s a hand on his shoulder. Immediately, Julian recognizes the familiar touch.

“Hey,” Emily says in a soft whisper. “Aaron wants to say goodbye.”

The words make fresh tears spring to his eyes. He lifts his head and finds Emily offering the phone to him, her face looking even more shadowed under the stairwell’s poor lighting. 

Julian sniffles, shakily taking the phone from her. “A-aron?”

“Jules.” His voice comes out in a relieved exhale. “Fuck, don’t cry.”

“Promise me you’ll get out of there.”

“I will,” Aaron says without missing a beat. The determination in his voice makes something loosen in Julian’s chest. “I’ve got a good lawyer. I—it’s too early to tell how the case is going to go, but my lawyer will make sure I avoid jail time. I promise you.”

“I need you here,” Julian says, his voice rising in slight panic. “Please, Aaron. I can’t do this without you.”

“I know, I know.” Aaron sounds fucking devastated. “Fuck, baby, I think I’m about to go insane from how worried I am. But I told Emily everything, and she’ll be in touch with the cops and tell them about Logan. I’ll be back as soon as possible—”

“You can’t know that!” Julian cries between stuttering breaths. “You keep promising me shit—!”

“I’m not lying, Jules, I swear I’ll—”

“I’m fucking terrified! ” Julian yells into the phone, his voice echoing eerily in the stairwell. He can feel Emily’s worried gaze on the side of his face, but he ignores it. At this point, Julian is full-on crying again, panic and fear clouding his mind. He knows Aaron doesn’t want to be separated from him, knows that there’s not a thing either of them can do but wait and bear it. But he’s too scared, and he just wishes Aaron were here to calm him down. “You said you’d never leave me!”

Aaron makes a sound—something wounded and raw. He inhales sharply, and Julian knows he’s hitting where it hurts most. He knows he’s throwing Aaron’s promises back at him, and it must fucking hurt Aaron to hear it. But Julian can’t stop. 

“He’ll take me again!” Julian yells in between sobs, getting onto his feet. He feels manic. “And I told you I can’t do it again!”

Aaron is saying something, his voice all choked up and shaky, but Julian can’t hear anything over the rush of panicked, terrified thoughts in his head. He knows what’s going to happen next—Aaron will be stuck there for too long, Logan will get his hands on Julian somehow, and then Julian will find himself right where he began, but this time, Aaron won’t be able to save him. Aaron will be locked up in some jail cell for who knows how long, and Julian will have to fucking kill himself just to get away from Logan.

He’s always known this would all end in a tragedy. He just wishes he had more time.

The thought shatters something inside him, and the sound that rips from his chest doesn’t even feel like his own. His sobs blur everything—the stairwell walls, Emily’s presence at his side, even the ground under his feet—until all that’s left are fragments of Aaron’s static-filled voice bleeding through the storm in his mind.

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Trust me, Jules, please.”

“Everything will be okay.”

“I love you. Always remember that.”

☾

Julian aches.

He can’t eat, can’t sleep. Can’t function at all. He lies on Emily’s couch and barely gets up. Emily and Raymond try their best to get him to eat or do anything at all, but it doesn’t help. 

Nothing helps.

Even Rose tried to talk to him last night when she got home, but Emily quickly ushered her away, asking the girl not to bother Julian. That only made Julian feel even shittier than he already did.

The only thing he thinks will help is to hear Aaron’s voice, even through the phone. But Aaron must have limited calls, because he hasn’t been able to call again since last night. 

It’s only been 12 hours since their last phone call, and Julian already feels like he’s being torn apart from the inside.

“Hey.”

Julian blinks lethargically, slowly registering that Emily is now standing by the couch where he lies.

Emily quietly places a mug of steaming tea on the coffee table, paired with some French toast. Then, she sits beside Julian’s legs. She doesn’t say anything about the untouched food still sitting there from last night. 

There are dark bags beneath her tired eyes, and her hair is knotted in various places. “I spoke to Officer Amak this morning. He… he discussed some options with me.”

Julian pushes himself into a sitting position, looking at Emily expectantly.

She fiddles with her fingers, her eyebrows furrowed. “His team went to investigate your apartment. They found the flowers and the pictures, and they’ve gotten in touch with the flower shop where the bouquet was delivered from. Unfortunately, they couldn’t trace who’d sent it. They said some random teen paid with cash, so they didn’t have info—”

“It’s Logan.” Julian’s voice comes out broken and cracked. “We already know it’s Logan.”

“Yes, he’s the main suspect, but they’re trying to track him down through the person who arranged the delivery of the flowers. They’re also investigating the pictures—” Emily’s words waver ever so slightly, and Julian knows she’s thinking about how some of those pictures include Rose. He knows she’s terrified for her daughter. “I haven’t gotten many updates about that yet, but they’re looking for clues that can point them in the right direction.”

Julian watches her closely, takes note of how she purses her lips, her gaze growing distant. “What else?”

“What?”

“There’s more, isn’t there?”

She bites her lip. “Amak wants to prioritize your safety as they investigate, and he’s also considering the safety of everyone in the photos that Logan sent you. It’s a clear threat to everyone.”

Guilt weighs heavily on Julian’s chest. Everyone who’s had the misfortune of getting close to him is now at risk because of him. That includes Rose and Raymond. Emily clearly knows this, too.

“Amak said it’s not safe for you to stay in places that Logan is familiar with,” she starts. “Some of the photos were of me and Raymond in the parking lot, meaning Logan knows where this apartment is. This is likely one of the places he’ll think to go, aside from your apartment with Aaron. And while they’ve got cops patrolling the area, it’s still best if you were in another location completely—some place Logan doesn’t already know.”

The bedroom door suddenly creaks open, and then Rose slowly walks out with a yawn. She rubs her eyes as she sleepily walks toward the kitchen, still in her pajamas. When she spots them on the couch, she heads for them instead, stopping to let Emily plant a kiss on her cheek. Then, she directs her attention to Julian.

“Are you feeling better?”

Julian forces a smile, but it feels brittle. “A little, yeah. Sorry to barge into your home like this.”

“It’s okay,” she says airily, making Julian smile a bit. “You can come here whenever you want to.”

“Thank you, Rose.”

“Where’s Uncle Aaron?”

That knot of dread inside him pulls tighter. “Um. H-he’s, uh, busy. He’s sorry he can’t be here.”

Rose blinks at him, then nods. “That’s okay.” She looks at the food Emily prepared for Julian. “You’re not gonna eat that?”

“Rose,” Emily cuts in with a tired smile, “Dad’s in the kitchen. Go ask him for some breakfast. Uncle Julian and I just need to…”

“Have a big-people talk?” Rose asks. She doesn’t look too pleased about it.

“Yes, exactly.”

She sighs deeply. Then, she skips away without another word. From where Julian sits on the couch, he can see her taking a seat on Raymond’s lap at the dining table.

For a moment, Julian just watches Rose. Watches the way she clumsily picks up her fork, nearly dropping her food in the process. He watches the muted, content smile on Raymond’s face, the protectiveness with which he holds his daughter in his lap. And when he turns back to Emily, he finds her watching her family as well, a small, quiet smile on her face. 

“I won’t let Logan get to any of you,” Julian says, his voice low enough that only Emily can hear him. “If it gets to that point… Em, I promise you, I’ll do everything I can to keep you all safe. I’d let him do anything to me before—”

“Stop,” Emily says in disbelief, eyes wide. “Don’t fucking say that. Logan won’t get to hurt anybody, because they’ll arrest him, and he’ll rot in jail for everything he’s ever done.”

Julian swallows past the lump in his throat. “I’m just being realistic. And I just want you to know I’d never let anything happen to your family—”

“You’re my family,” Emily cuts in, her voice cracking. When Julian meets her gaze, he finds her eyes glassy with tears. “You’re my baby brother, Julian. My priority is your safety, too.”

Julian bites his tongue. He wants to keep arguing, wants to insist that if she had to choose, she’d choose Rose and Raymond over him. And rightfully so. Julian has already been through literal hell—what’s a few more moments of torture? Julian will bear it all if it means Emily and her family don’t have to suffer at all.

This is all Julian’s fault, anyway.

“My point is,” Julian starts, “I agree with Officer Amak. It’s too dangerous to have me here. Me being here means Rose is also at risk. And I’ll never forgive myself if anything happens to her.”

“I’ll come with you,” Emily says immediately. “He said they can arrange emergency housing for us in a safe, secret location. I can prepare our stuff and—”

Julian frowns. “You don’t have to come. I’ll be with some officers, right?”

“Yeah, but I think it would be better if I came along.”

“It’s too dangerous.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Emily scoffs. “The fact that it’s dangerous is why I’m coming with you.”

He folds his arms across his chest. “That’s stupid. What can you do that an armed cop can’t? I don’t need you there. Just stay here and make sure Rose is safe.”

“I’d feel better if you had someone you actually knew there with you.”

“I don’t care how you feel. I said no.”

“Why are you being difficult? This is for your safety—”

“Again, what can you do that a cop can’t? I’d feel better if you just stayed here, where another cop will watch over you.”

At the end of the day, this is Julian’s problem. This time around, he doesn’t want to hide behind Emily and Aaron anymore, especially when that means compromising their own safety. Julian will face all of this alone, as he always should have. 

This is between Julian and Logan alone. Always has been.

Emily looks like she’s ready to argue some more, but then her phone rings. She takes a deep breath, throwing Julian a cutting glare before turning away to answer the call.

He watches as she walks away, then rests his head on the back of the couch. He stares at the ceiling, his mind inexplicably loud and quiet at the same time.

Then, he closes his eyes and hopes to steal a few minutes of sleep.

☾

“Hello?”

“Hey, Steven,” Julian says, phone pressed to his ear.

He and Emily are at a red light, her fingers tapping impatiently on the wheel. Julian rests his head against the car window, eyes stuck on the horizon.

Since their argument earlier about Emily coming with him to wherever the cops are thinking of sending Julian off for safety, they’ve been quiet around each other. 

Julian doesn’t feel bad about it. He’s doing this for Emily’s own good.

“Ju-ju! What’s up?”

From the lightness in Steven’s voice, Julian can tell he doesn’t know what’s happening with Aaron yet.

Casey and Tommy probably don’t know, either. It only happened yesterday, after all, and last night, Aaron used one of his phone calls to speak to Julian. The other phone calls were likely his lawyer and his mother.

Julian will have to be the one to break the news to him. 

“I have to tell you something,” Julian says, swallowing. “It’s about Aaron.”

There’s a pause. “Is he okay?”

Julian takes a deep breath. His throat feels raw and scarred from the amount of crying he’s done these past few hours. “Aaron’s in a holding cell at the police station. He got into a… fight yesterday, and we’re still waiting to hear if the judge will grant him bail.”

Another pause. Then, “What the fuck?”

“It was my fault.” The words are out of his mouth before he can think twice about it. “I’m sorry, Steven. He was just trying to defend me from someone, but everything just went to shit. He ended up hurting the guy really bad. I spoke to him last night and I… I’m really worried about him.”

That phone call kept him up last night. Aaron was at his lowest, apologizing to Julian, prioritizing Julian’s safety even when he was dealing with his own arrest, and what did Julian do? He threw everything back in his face. He let fear and terror control his words. He hurt Aaron when they both needed each other so badly.

“Fuck.” Steven lets out a long breath. “Alright. Do you know if he has a lawyer already?”

“He mentioned that he spoke to one.”

“I know a better lawyer,” Steven says. “I’ll give her a call. You said he’s at the station? The 12th Precinct?”

Julian rubs his eyes. It’s hard to tell from Steven’s voice if he’s mad or not. He just sounds mostly worried. “Yes.”

“Alright. I’ll make some calls and make sure Aaron’s well taken care of. We’re getting him out of there.”

He lets out a breath of relief. Julian could almost cry. “Thank you. Thank you so much, Steven.”

“That’s my brother we’re talking about,” Steven says easily. “Of course I’ll help. Plus, this isn’t the first time I’ve had to pull that idiot out of some kind of mess. Though he’s never done anything as bad as beating someone up.”

“Right.” At least some of the weight has been lifted from his shoulders. He’s been worried sick about Aaron but wasn’t sure how to help, and now that he’s spoken with Steven, he’s a bit more hopeful about Aaron’s predicament. If Steven truly does know a great lawyer, maybe Aaron doesn’t have to serve jail time after all. 

“And you?” Steven suddenly asks.

“Me?”

“Are you okay? You said Aaron was defending you from someone. Were you hurt? Where are you now?”

A bit of warmth spreads across him at Steven’s concern. “I’m fine. I’m with Emily.”

“Okay, that’s good.”

“I really am sorry,” Julian says. “For what happened with Aaron. It’s all because of me. I… I just messed up. And he got dragged into it. I can’t look after him right now, so can you make sure Aaron’s safe?”

“Aaron wouldn’t blame you for anything, so I’m not blaming you either,” Steven says. “And what do you mean you can’t look after him?”

“I…” Julian hesitates. Steven doesn’t know the details about Logan, and while Julian trusts Steven, he’s not sure how much to tell him. “I’m just dealing with something right now. I might be away for a while.”

Steven sounds like he finds this odd. “But Aaron needs you right now.”

“I know.” He bites his lip. “When you get the chance to talk to him, Aaron will explain everything to you.”

It’s clear that Steven isn’t satisfied with that answer if his sigh is anything to go by. Still, he doesn’t push. “Alright. I’ll talk to him.” After a pause, he says, “Whatever’s happening… take care, okay? And call me if you need anything at all.”

Julian smiles tightly. “That means a lot. Thank you, Steven.”

“You got it.” 

He ends the call, letting out a breath. He hopes that getting Steven in the loop and sending him Aaron’s way will help somehow. He knows Steven has connections, and, well, money. It’s all the things Julian can’t give Aaron right now. 

“We shouldn’t have come,” Emily says, pulling Julian from his thoughts. 

It’s only then that Julian realizes they’re already parked outside the precinct. It’s a little past noon, meaning the sun is still high in the sky, the glare cutting through the windshield and making him squint.

“Why not?” He huffs. “I need to see Aaron.”

“And Amak already said it wasn’t safe.”

Julian removes his seatbelt. “Well, we’re here already.”

He knows the smartest technique would be to move fast. To go along with Amak’s plan to take him to some safe location—somewhere Logan can’t possibly find him. Emily agrees with Amak; in fact, she’s spent the better half of the day trying to convince him to pack whatever he can and leave with the officers tonight.  

Logically speaking, it makes sense. Julian knows this. But he just cannot do it without seeing Aaron one last time. He doesn’t know how long they’ll be separated, and he needs to know Aaron is alright despite everything.

“Wait,” Emily says, gripping his sleeve before he can open the door and step out of the car.

“What?”

“Do you have your gun?” 

Julian remembers the one she gave him—it’s still at the apartment he shares with Aaron, tucked in the bedside drawer. But after fleeing when Logan sent him those items, Julian hasn’t gone back. It’s not safe.

“No. It’s in our apartment.”

Emily nods, pressing her lips together. She glances around the parking lot as though she’s looking for something. Then, she unzips her bag. Inside is a handgun with two spare magazines. She presses the weapon into his hand. “Take mine.”

He blinks. “Em—”

“I’ve got another at home,” she cuts him off, her voice tight with agitation. “Julian, you’re the one this psycho criminal is after, not me. You need it more.” She pushes the extra magazines toward him. “Loaded and ready. Just… keep them close.”

Julian swallows hard and takes it. The gun feels heavier than it should, cold against his palm. 

Loaded and ready.

“Let’s hope they let you see him,” Emily says. She opens her door. “C’mon. Let’s make this quick.”

Julian sticks the gun in the waistband of his jeans. “Let’s go.”

It’s busy inside the precinct. There are uniformed men and women everywhere, the sound of telephones ringing and muffled conversations coming together to create a flurry of constant noise. They head straight for the front desk.

“Hello. Is Officer Amak in?”

The lady looks him up and down. “He hasn’t returned yet. But we’ve got other officers in here. What d’ya need?”

“We were just—”

“Julian!” 

He turns and finds Officer Amak striding toward them, a tired, crinkly smile on his face. 

“I’ll handle them,” Amak tells the front desk lady, who gives a single nod before turning back to her computer. Amak leads Julian and Emily through the hallway, leading them into his office.

“Sorry, it’s quite busy in here today.” Amak gestures at them to take a seat across from him. Once they’re seated, he asks, “Have you decided?”

Julian clears his throat. “I… I’ll go to the safe location you mentioned. But I want to talk to Aaron first.”

Amak frowns. “Sorry, kid. He’s still in holding, only family and his lawyer are allowed back there. You’ll have to wait until he’s processed.”

“And when’s that?”

“Could be days. Depends on the docket and the judge. My hands are tied.”

Emily glances at him with a look of concern before turning back to Amak. “Surely Julian can talk to him, even just for a few minutes?” 

Amak shakes his head. “It’s protocol.”

Julian clenches his jaw, crossing his arms over his chest. They cannot be fucking serious right now. He’s supposed to disappear to god knows where for god knows how long, and he can’t even see Aaron first? There’s something fundamentally wrong with that. It feels like being physically torn away from another part of himself. 

“Another phone call, at least?” Emily tries.

“He already used up his calls,” Amak says apologetically.

Julian’s throat tightens. So this really is how it’s going to be, then. He’ll be separated from Aaron, and he won’t even get to say goodbye. He won’t be here during the arraignment, possibly won’t be here to see him if he’s released. 

It’s not fucking fair.

“Julian,” Amak starts gently, “I know this isn’t easy. But Aaron would want you to be safe. He’d want you to put yourself first. Best thing you can do now is let us take you to the safe house. We’ll move you before word gets out.”

Julian takes a deep, shaky breath. “How long will I be away?”

“Usually, until the main suspect is arrested.”

That could be anything from weeks to literal months. “And I won’t be allowed to leave before that?”

“We want to keep your location secret, so it’s best that you remain there all throughout. This is especially true since Logan Peyton is the main suspect.”

Julian already dreads it. He can imagine it: being stuck in some old motel room with yellowish lighting, with only the rotating officers to speak to. They’d likely monitor everything, including his calls. 

It’s no different than being imprisoned.

Amak and Emily’s voices fade into the background as he looks away, through the doorway, at one of the doors he thinks leads to the holding cells. He pictures Aaron down there—tired and stressed and alone—and the fact that he’s so close yet so far makes it hard to breathe.

But there’s nothing he can do about it. 

When he and Emily make it back to her apartment, Julian sits in the stairwell again, his phone pressed to his ear. He dials Aaron’s number, pictures Aaron’s phone lighting up with a call wherever the cops are currently holding his belongings, and then he hears Aaron’s voice.

“Hey! Can’t talk right now, so leave a message after the beep. Bye!”

Julian bites his lip. “Hey. So, they wouldn’t let me visit you.” His voice sounds thin and small even to his own ears. “Um, you’ll probably get this when you get your phone again. But, um. I’m gonna go away for a bit. It’s urgent, and the cops really want to get moving right away, because… well, you know. It gets more dangerous the longer I wait.

“I just want to say… I’m sorry for yelling at you before and acting all crazy when we last spoke. I was just really scared, and I’m not used to you not being here beside me. I’m scared of a lot of things, but mostly I’m worried about you. And I wish so badly that I could be here by your side to help you through this, but…” Julian takes a shaky breath. “It is what it is. But I want you to know I don’t blame you for anything, and I’m not mad. I just… miss you. I miss you really bad.”

Unbidden tears spring to his eyes. He sniffles, wiping them away. “I hope this all ends soon. Be safe, alright? We’ll get through this. Please call me as soon as you can.” He swallows. “I love you.”

Julian sends the voicemail, and irrationally, he waits for Aaron to open the message. He waits for a call to come through, for his ringtone to echo in the empty stairwell.

But all he gets is silence.

☾ 

The next morning, Julian prepares to disappear.

Julian and Emily sit side by side in the lobby. Emily hasn’t been able to stop fidgeting since they got down here, while Julian feels a bit like he’s made of stone. His limbs feel numb and heavy. There’s a headache coming on, and he hasn’t eaten a proper meal since yesterday.

Everything just feels so wrong.

A car eases up to the curb, not the usual cruiser but a plain sedan meant to look unremarkable in case anyone’s watching. Officer Joss steps out, dressed down in a polo and trousers instead of his uniform.

It’s time, then.

Julian stands, pulls his hood up over his head, grabs his backpack—pack light, they said—and subtly tucks Emily’s gun in the waistband of his jeans. Emily stands as well, walking with him to the building exit. 

She says, “Don’t trust anyone.”

He turns to her. There’s a hard edge in her stare, and the exhaustion written under her eyes shows she didn’t get much rest.

He doesn’t want to make a big deal of this, because he doesn’t want to make it seem like a goodbye. But he also doesn’t know when he’ll see her again. 

So, without a word, he pulls Emily into a hug, burying his face into her shoulder. He commits the scent of her shampoo and perfume to memory, feels the need to remember how strong her arms feel around him. He takes comfort in the warmth of her skin and the sound of her breathing. 

Whatever happens next, at least he knows Emily is as safe as she can be.

“I love you,” Julian mumbles into her skin. His eyes burn with tears. 

Emily doesn’t say anything at first, seemingly taken aback. Then, shakily, “I love you, too.”

He heads for the exit and doesn’t look back.

Joss spots him as soon as he steps out onto the parking lot. He gives Julian a single nod and then waits until Julian is in the passenger seat before hopping into the driver’s seat. 

Then, Joss drives off. Julian stares at Emily’s apartment building for as long as he can still see it, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. 

He then thinks of the apartment he shares with Aaron, the messy couch cushions, the half-empty coffee mug Aaron always forgets to rinse, the life they were just beginning to build. His chest tightens. 

The city outside the window blurs into a smear of color and noise, and all he can think is that he’s being peeled away from everything safe and familiar.

He’s being taken away from Aaron.

He’s running on barely any sleep, coming down from two of the most recent traumatic things that have happened to him in a while: Logan’s threats and Aaron’s arrest. He’s been in a fight or flight mode this entire time, unable to rest, unable to think logically. Julian’s bag feels too light, the gun too heavy tucked in his waistband, and everything’s just happening so fast.

Is this the right choice?

As Joss speeds down the highway, a sudden feeling of doubt slams into him, leaving the hairs at the back of his neck standing. Joss quietly taps a finger on the wheel, eyes darting from the road to the rearview mirror. 

He just wishes he had gotten to talk to Aaron one last time before he left. If things were different, Aaron would be here with him in this car. Aaron would drop everything to make sure Julian wasn’t alone in the secret location and to make sure Julian truly was safe. 

Would Aaron approve of his and Emily’s decision? 

The thing is, they’re running out of time. As much as Julian would prefer to wait until Aaron walks out of that police station once and for all, he doesn’t have the luxury to do so. 

Logan is an unpredictable man. But beyond that, he has endless resources. He has connections and other dangerous men who work for him. Every second with Julian vulnerable and exposed means even more opportunities for Logan to enact some kind of plan.

Julian’s head is a mess—there’s no concrete plan. At least not yet. He’s just taking things one step at a time, and at the moment, his priority is to get to the new, secret location and do all the thinking there. 

It will have to do for now.

After a few minutes of silence, Julian says, “Officer Amak won’t be accompanying us?”

“He’s currently tied up with something urgent,” Joss says. “But don’t worry. You’ll be fully protected once we make it to the location.”

“Can I ask where we’re going?”

“It’s confidential,” Joss tells him, eyes never leaving the road. “But it won’t take more than a few hours. Make yourself comfortable—maybe even take a nap. I’ll let you know when we’re there.” 

“It’s a secure location, you said?”

“Yes. We usually arrange emergency housing when needed, especially for cases like yours where the suspect is a high-profile criminal.” He cuts a glance at Julian. “No one will find you there.”

He nods quietly. Joss continues to talk, sounding almost casual, talking about things that aren’t directly related to Julian’s case. He talks about what the station has been up to these days, and Julian suspects it’s to distract Julian from what’s happening. 

It’s a nice thing to do. Julian lets himself relax against the seat, trying to calm his racing heart.

After all, he’s known Joss for months now. He’s the one assigned to watch over Julian during his shifts at Side A. As a matter of fact, Julian has gotten to know him a decent amount: Joss has two sons, both of them younger than Julian, and a housewife who always packs Joss' lunch. Over the past few months, he’s also shared some stories about him and Amak solving cases together over the years. 

Yet, no matter how much he tries to tone down his anxiety, it just doesn’t work. Julian sits stiffly in the passenger seat, his fingers threaded together so tightly that his knuckles blanch. He can’t get comfortable. The seatbelt feels like a noose across his chest, and the low hum of the car engine only makes the silence heavier.

At this point, Joss isn’t talking much. He just stares at the road, jaw tight, his hand drumming now and again against the wheel like he’s keeping a rhythm only he can hear. Every so often, his gaze flicks up to the rearview mirror. Making sure they’re not being followed, most likely.

This is fine. This is what it’s supposed to feel like. He repeats that in his head, like if he says it enough times, it’ll start sounding true. The whole point of the plain sedan is that it doesn’t draw attention. The whole point of wearing civilian clothes is to blend in. The whole point is that this should feel safe and ordinary.

So why doesn’t it?

He glances at Joss, trying to read him. He always came off as easygoing, sharp, and steady. But now his shoulders are locked tight, his lips pressed flat, his eyes sliding to Julian but trying to be subtle about it.

Julian presses his tongue to the back of his teeth, the feeling of uneasiness taking root.

“Could we… uh, maybe stop somewhere?” he blurts, voice rasping. “Gas station, convenience store, I don’t know. I could use the bathroom.”

For a second, he braces for Joss to refuse. For him to snap, or brush him off, or say they can’t risk stopping. But Joss only flicks his eyes sideways, then nods once.

“Yeah. Sure. We’ll stop.”

That should’ve been reassuring. Instead, a cold prickle crawls down Julian’s spine. 

But he ignores it and pretends nothing’s wrong.

Eventually, the gas station comes into view, its flickering sign buzzing faintly above the forecourt. The building itself looks tired, the kind of place where you wouldn’t want to linger. 

Perfect, Julian thinks grimly.

Joss pulls up near the entrance, puts the car in park, and leans an elbow casually on the steering wheel. His jaw is still tightly clenched. “Five minutes. Make it quick.”

Julian fumbles with the seatbelt, nodding a little too quickly. The second his feet hit the pavement, the air feels thinner, easier to breathe. His legs are trembling, but he forces them to move at a normal pace, not too fast, not too slow, straight through the doors and toward the restroom sign at the back.

Inside, the fluorescent lights are harsh, buzzing overhead. The tiled floor is grimy. Julian ducks into the last stall, locks it, and pulls out his phone with shaking fingers. His pulse hammers against his ribs so hard it hurts.

When he opens his phone, only then does he realize that he has several missed calls from both Amak and Emily. 

Something’s definitely not right.

Hands trembling, he calls Amak back.

It only rings once.

“Julian?” Amak’s voice bursts through, sharp and intense. “Where are you?”

Julian grips the phone so tight it could shatter. “I—I’m with Joss. He came to get me. Said he was taking me to the safe house.”

“I… there must’ve been some kind of misunderstanding.” The urgency in Amak’s voice rises. “I’m supposed to pick you up. I was assigned your transfer this morning. Where are you right now?”

For a split second, Julian’s brain blanks. Everything tilts sideways, his stomach dropping straight through the floor.

He already knows this is more than just a misunderstanding.

“He—he told me you were tied up,” Julian stammers. His vision blurs at the edges. “He said you couldn’t come.”

“Julian, listen to me. That’s a lie. Are you with him right now? I need you to go somewhere safe while we figure things out and tell me where you are right now.”

His heart is in his throat, choking him.

Amak’s voice is still hissing through the phone, but Julian fumbles to silence it and jams it deep into his pocket when he hears the bathroom door creak open.

Footsteps echo against the tiles. Slow, steady. There’s nothing but silence for a few minutes, and then, “Julian? Everything alright?”

He’s terrified, but there’s also a slow, simmering rage burning beneath his skin. 

He can’t trust Joss anymore. That much is clear.

But Julian has to be smart about this. Joss doesn’t know that he knows about his lies yet, and it’s better if he keeps thinking it. He just needs to get out of this cramped bathroom, and then it will be much easier to get away from Joss or ask for help from there.

So Julian does his best to wipe away any trace of fear or anger on his face. He swallows, slowly unlocking the stall and stepping out. 

There Joss stands, large and broad, watching him from the bathroom door. 

“Sorry,” Julian says, putting on a pained smile. “I was feeling a bit car sick.”

“Candy will help,” Joss says. His face is perfectly blank—Julian can’t read him at all.

“Right.” Julian steps forward, hoping that Joss will step away from where he’s blocking the exit. But when Joss remains there, broad shoulders filling the frame, alarm bells start blaring in his head.

“Who were you talking to?” 

Julian stumbles on his feet. “What? I wasn’t—”

Joss tuts. He crosses his arms over his chest, looking to the side. Something flashes in his eyes this time, but it’s gone before Julian can make sense of it. “It was Amak, wasn’t it?”

Julian just stands there, palms sweaty, heart racing in his chest.

This time, when Joss looks at him, he almost looks apologetic. “It’s nothing personal, kid. Don’t make this harder than it has to be. Trust me when I say I don’t want to have to hurt you.”

Rage flares inside him, overtaking the fear. Joss isn’t that easy to fool after all. Still, he makes an effort to keep his face blank, balling his hands into fists. “Let me out.”

Joss only stands straighter, shoulders seemingly broadening even more and filling the door frame. “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

For a moment, they just stare at each other, waiting for the other to make a move. Julian feels himself tremble from a mix of terror and anger, but he steels himself and tries to think. 

Then, he feels it—the cold metal of Emily’s gun biting into his skin where it’s tucked into his jeans. 

Joss is bigger and stronger than him, so his only chance is to use the gun. He needs to be quick, and there’s no room for hesitation. He takes a deep breath, feeling sweat roll down his temple.

In a flash, Julian reaches for his gun, but Joss seems to be anticipating it. 

His arm shoots out to grab Julian’s wrist, eyes flashing. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Instinct kicks in before fear can paralyze him. He drives the heel of his free hand up into Joss’s chin, snapping his head back. For a split second, the path is open, and Julian twists toward the exit—only to be caught by the collar and yanked hard enough that the back of his skull slams against the tiled wall.

Stars burst behind his eyes, but he doesn’t stop moving. He brings his knee up fast, aiming for Joss’s groin, then rakes his heel down the man’s shin with every ounce of force he has. Joss grunts, cursing, his grip loosening just enough for Julian to twist out and shove him toward the sinks. The porcelain rattles under the impact.

Julian doesn’t wait. He drops low, just like the instructor drilled into him, and drives his shoulder into Joss’s midsection. The air rushes out of Joss in a sharp bark, but he’s heavier, stronger, and he recovers too quickly. Thick arms clamp around Julian’s torso, crushing the breath out of him.

“Get off me!” 

He slams his elbow backward, once, twice, until it connects with ribs. Joss grunts in pain, the hold loosening again, and Julian slips free, chest heaving, hand fumbling for the waistband of his jeans. His fingers close on cold metal.

He doesn’t think—he just pulls the gun free and fires.

The sound is deafening in the cramped bathroom, making the mirror crack with a spiderweb fracture. Joss staggers back with a guttural yell, clutching his shoulder where the bullet tore through flesh. Blood seeps between his fingers, but he’s still standing, still advancing with murder in his eyes.

Julian raises the gun again, but Joss is faster now, driven by fury. He slams Julian’s wrist against the wall until the weapon clatters to the floor, then seizes him by the throat, pinning him against the cold tile. Julian claws at his arm, kicks wildly, desperate for air, his vision tunneling.

Then Joss reaches for something in his pocket.

Joss presses a cloth over his nose and mouth, the chemical sting hitting Julian like a blade in the lungs. He jerks violently, twisting his head away, clawing at the hand holding the rag, but every breath drags the fumes deeper into him. His muscles feel like wet sandbags, his strikes growing weaker even as his mind screams to keep fighting.

“Easy, kid,” Joss mutters, voice low, almost casual—and somehow more terrifying than if he’d yelled.

He drives a fist into Joss’s ribs, but it barely lands. His body betrays him, arms falling heavy, legs buckling as the bathroom tilts and blurs.

A final wave of adrenaline has Julian jerking, thrashing wildly, shoving at Joss’s chest, clawing at his wrist. His legs kick out desperately, but his strength is bleeding away. His head swims, heavy, the world swaying violently around him. 

Don’t trust anyone, Emily’s voice echoes in his head. 

The voice breaks apart, dissolving and fading away. 

The last thing he registers is Joss’s breath, rough and steady against his ear, and the choking stench of chemicals filling his lungs before everything is swallowed by darkness.

Chapter Text

PART IV

Ashes of Hell

☾

Julian wakes up in a bed that isn’t his.

Blinking blearily, he pushes himself up on weak arms, rubbing away the blurriness in his eyes and swallowing harshly past the dryness in his throat. 

His head swims, the unfamiliar room tilting momentarily, before everything rights itself. The bed is too soft, the scent of the room too foreign, the dimness too suffocating.

It’s not long until familiar panic crashes into him, strong enough to crush his lungs.

“No…” Julian croaks, heartbeat speeding up as previous events flood his mind. 

The car ride with Joss. Amak’s phone call. The cramped bathroom. Gunfire. Rough hands. The sharp smell of chemicals in his nose. 

Julian lurches upright too fast, almost pitching himself off the bed. His breath catches sharply in his throat as his eyes dart around the room. The walls are a dull beige, empty and plain. No windows. Just a wooden door at the other end of the room beside a closet. 

I’ve been taken. 

The reality of his situation dawns on him slowly as his pulse climbs, every nerve in his body screaming.

Somehow, Julian is in his grasp again.

Logan.

Julian shoves his fists into his eyes, as if pressure alone can keep the terror from splitting him apart. His lungs refuse to cooperate, chest hitching as though there isn’t enough air. He doubles over, elbows digging into his knees. Panic claws up his throat, acid-sharp.

It’s happening again.

Fuck. He can’t breathe. He can’t fucking breathe. He opens his mouth, inhales as much air as he can, but it just doesn’t work.

I can’t do this again.

Julian doesn’t realize he’s crying until he feels wetness on his cheeks, until he feels wetness dripping to his knees, where he’s got them pulled to his chest. He’s hyperventilating and sobbing and choking—he might actually fucking die here.

Aaron. 

He needs Aaron so fucking bad. He aches with how much he misses him, with how much he regrets everything. He knew he should’ve spoken to Aaron first, knew everything was going too fast. Knew something didn’t feel right.

“Aaron,” Julian hears himself say, and it comes out in a pathetic whimper. He cries. “I’m so f-fucking scared.”

What would Aaron do? What would he say? He would… he would probably try to calm Julian down first. Right. He’d pull Julian into his arms, massage calming circles into his back, whisper sweet, calming words into his ears. He’d pull Julian into his arms until Julian stopped hyperventilating. He’d know the right words to say. 

Julian squeezes his eyes shut, ignores the sound of his labored breathing, ignores the pain and tightening in his chest from how hard it is to breathe. 

Breathe, he imagines Aaron telling him. Breathe for me, Jules.

He imagines Aaron right here, right beside him, with a warm, familiar hand on his skin. Imagines Aaron’s cool, calming cologne. The smell of his favorite shampoo. Imagines the texture of his favorite cotton shirt. Imagines how his deep voice would sound inside this dark, suffocating room.

I’m right here, Jules. I’m right here.

Julian lets out a shuddering breath, unable to help the sob that follows. It’s like some blockage has been removed from his throat, because he can suddenly breathe again. He takes large, gasping breaths, coughing and choking on his own tears, but he’s so fucking relieved it doesn’t even matter.

He can breathe again. That’s a start.

He gives himself a few moments to breathe some more, and when his head feels much clearer, he starts to think.

Julian scans the room again, this time with sharper eyes. The bed frame is bolted down. No lamps, no clock—nothing breakable or sharp. The dresser drawers slide open with a hollow clatter, all empty. The bathroom door reveals a sink, a toilet, a mirror screwed so tightly to the wall it may as well be welded there. No glass shards or razors. 

There’s nothing here that he can use as a weapon.

Julian curses under his breath, pacing the length of the room. He tries the doorknob, but as expected, it’s locked. He presses his palms against the door, testing it. Solid. Then, he drops to the floor, peering beneath the frame. There’s light on the other side. 

He kicks the door a few times, loud and useless, and then sags back against the wall when it doesn’t budge. 

“Fuck.” 

The closet catches his eye. He runs toward it and yanks it open with more force than he needs, half-hoping for some forgotten broom handle, a wire hanger, anything. Instead, the sight stops him cold.

A suit.

It hangs neatly from a plastic hanger, navy fabric sharp and precise, paired with a crisp white shirt. Beneath it, beside a pair of black dress shoes on the closet floor, lies a folded piece of paper. Julian crouches, fingers trembling as he picks it up and reads its contents.

Be ready for dinner.

His stomach lurches. He doesn’t have to ask who the note is from. Logan’s handwriting is burned into his memory.

The room tilts again, dread rushing through him so fast he has to brace against the closet frame. Dinner. Logan wants to see him, dressed up and compliant, like none of the months in between ever happened. Like Julian hasn’t clawed his way out of Logan’s grasp only to find himself right where he started.

For a second, he wants to tear the suit apart with his bare hands. He wants to shred it into ribbons, scream until his throat bleeds, throw the pieces back in Logan’s face. 

But then another thought pushes in: dinner means leaving this room.

Julian straightens slowly, the note crumpled in his fist. If he plays along, he can get out. He can map the place, find exits, learn where Logan’s people are stationed. 

Sharp determination flares in his chest, cutting through the fear like fire through fog. He isn’t going to sit here like prey waiting for slaughter. He isn’t the same broken thing Logan once dragged around on a leash.

He presses the paper flat again, smoothing the wrinkles as his heartbeat steadies, clenching his jaw. 

Dinner it is.

☾

The lock turns with a metallic click, and Julian is already standing. The suit fits him too well, which makes his skin crawl—it means Logan thought ahead, measured him in memory, kept track of the shape of his body. He straightens the cuffs, if only because it buys him a moment to steady his nerves.

The door swings open, and Ricky steps in. Tall, broad-shouldered, his presence fills the frame like a barricade. Nothing less than what anyone would expect from Logan’s right-hand man. His expression is neutral, but his eyes rake over Julian in a way that makes it clear he’s assessing threat, gauging compliance. 

Then, without a word, Ricky lifts the hem of his shirt with two fingers.

The gun gleams in the waistband of his trousers. A silent message: don’t try anything stupid.

Julian swallows hard, goosebumps crawling up his arms. His instinct screams at him to lunge anyway, to tear at Ricky’s face with his nails if that’s what it takes, but he forces his muscles still. 

Not yet.

Ricky lets the shirt drop. “This way.” His voice is clipped, almost bored, and he doesn’t glance back to see if Julian follows.

Julian does.

As he steps outside the door, the first thing he takes note of is that there’s someone stationed right at his door. Julian snatches a subtle glance at the man, and he’s immediately able to recognize him as Hank. He’s one of the guys who used to manage the whores at the prostitution house, and often, he’d take pleasure from them, including Julian. 

Ahead, the hallway stretches wide, lined with glossy hardwood and pale walls adorned with abstract paintings that probably cost more than he’s ever made in his life. Julian walks half a pace behind Ricky, every sense sharpened. 

Four other rooms aside from the one he just came from. Wide and long curtains along one wall that could only be hiding a floor-to-ceiling window behind it. An elevator at the end of the hall, guarded by another man in a suit with his arms folded. 

They’re in some kind of penthouse, most likely. That means they shouldn’t be too far away from the city.

He tries to absorb the layout, to etch it into his brain even though adrenaline blurs the edges of everything.

They turn a corner, and the smell of seared meat, garlic, and butter fills the air. A dining room waits at the end of the corridor, glowing under low, golden light. The room is plain, save for the occasional painting on the wall and the large TV mounted parallel to the dining table.

And, of course, the devil himself.

The length of the dining table separates him from where Logan sits all the way at the head, nearly at the other end of the room, draped in a tailored black suit, posture loose but commanding. A glass of red wine in his hand, swirling lazily. His dark hair is slicked back, his face sharpened by his age, but just as Julian remembers. That smile—sharp, blood-thirsty—slides across his mouth as his eyes find Julian.

“Julian,” Logan says, voice smooth as velvet, and just the sound of it has Julian uncontrollably trembling. “You’re right on time.”

Julian stops at the threshold, his heart slamming against his ribs. He tells himself to stand still, to play it smart. Maybe to start a believable conversation and gather more information before anything else. To play the pathetic victim he’s supposed to be, to look and act small. But his hands tremble, his jaw clenches, and beneath the tidal wave of fear, something more intense surges. 

Pure, white-hot fury.

He sees Aaron’s face in his mind. The bloody bruises Logan left on him, the years he’d stolen from Julian, the endless nightmare of being reduced to nothing. He feels the weight of every night he’s woken up gasping, drenched in sweat, thinking he’d escaped only to realize he never really would.

Only to be here right now, right back to where he started.

Logan lifts his glass in a mock toast, eyes glinting. “Sit.”

He lets a second pass, and then something inside him snaps.

Julian’s body moves before his brain can second-guess it. He surges forward, the polished floor slick under his shoes as he surges toward the table, his hand shooting out, causing dishes to clatter and the wine glass to topple and spill like blood across the linen. His hand closes around a steak knife on the table, the metal cold and perfect in his grip.

He runs down the length of the table, heart pounding loudly in his ears. His vision tunnels until all he sees is Logan at the end, that calm expression still in place, as if he’s watching something only mildly interesting.

It makes Julian’s blood boil even more.

Yes, fear burns inside him, clawing at his chest, but it’s fury that sends him forward. Fury at being dragged back here, fury at Ricky’s smirk, fury at the universe for never letting him breathe free. 

Fury at Logan most of all, for taking everything and daring to want more.

All of this happens in a split second. Julian screams, a raw sound tearing from his throat as he raises the knife.

The blade arcs down—

—but Logan moves.

He rises from his chair in a blur of motion, catching Julian’s wrist mid-strike. The impact jars through Julian’s bones as his arm halts inches from Logan’s throat. Logan twists, yanking him forward, and the world whips sideways. The knife clatters to the floor as Julian crashes chest-first onto the table. Plates shatter under him, shards biting into his palms.

Logan’s weight is behind him in an instant, pinning him down. One arm wrenches Julian’s wrist back at a painful angle, forcing his cheek against the ruined tablecloth.

Julian thrashes, kicking, but Logan’s grip is iron. His breath is hot at Julian’s ear when he leans down, the words sliding in like poison.

“Oh, how I’ve missed you.”

Julian’s cheek grinds into the tablecloth, damp with wine and speckled with shards of broken plate. His pulse slams so hard it feels like it might burst through his skin. Logan’s grip is a vise on his wrist, twisting until sparks of pain shoot up his arm. He tries to buck him off, but Logan’s weight is steady and immovable.

“Still wild,” Logan murmurs, his breath a ghost against Julian’s neck. 

Julian grits his teeth, twisting his face as far away from Logan as he can. “Let. Me. Go.”

Logan chuckles, low and soft, the sound vibrating against Julian’s spine where his chest presses close. “Is this how you’ll greet me after all this time?”

The words make Julian’s stomach churn. He jerks again, twisting under Logan’s hold, but his wrist bends sharper until his vision whites out. A strangled noise rips out of him before he can stop it.

“Careful,” Logan says, soothing. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

Julian wants to spit in his face, but his mouth is mashed against the linen, and all he can taste is wine and dust. His chest heaves, fury clawing against the weight pressing him down. His mind screams at him to keep fighting, to do something, but his body trembles against the restraint, every nerve screaming with the reminder of how familiar this feels.

Not again.

Not this time.

Aaron’s voice flickers in his head like a candle in the dark: You’re stronger now. 

Julian squeezes his eyes shut, pulling air into his lungs, refusing to let the panic swallow him whole. He clings to the fire in his chest, to the heat that keeps him from collapsing into old patterns.

“Get off me!” he snarls, the words muffled against the table.

Logan doesn’t. His grip stays steady, his posture calm, as though restraining Julian is as effortless as holding down a child. 

Logan hums. “You’re exactly as I left you.”

Something sharp cuts into Julian’s palm where his hand presses against a fragment of broken plate. The sting is sudden, grounding. He closes his fist, feeling the edge slice deeper, warm wetness seeping across his skin. Pain steadies him. Reminds him he’s real, here, not gone.

He twists his head enough to suck in air, his voice ragged. “No, I’m not. You’ll fucking regret this.”

Logan stills at that, the smile in his tone dimming. His grip tightens on Julian’s wrist until the joint aches, until Julian can’t stop the gasp that slips out. Logan leans closer, lips brushing the shell of his ear as he whispers, “We’ll see.”

Julian shudders, his fury rising hotter to meet the fear. He wants to tear free, to make Logan bleed any way he can. Every second of restraint gnaws at him, Aaron’s name constantly echoing in his head: for him, for him, for him.

Ricky stands at the doorway, silent and watchful, one hand resting casually on his gun. He doesn’t move to intervene. He doesn’t need to. 

Julian’s chest burns with humiliation. He thrashes once more, his body screaming against the hold, even knowing it’s useless. He wants Logan to feel his rage, if nothing else. To know he isn’t breaking again.

“Can you just—” Julian suppresses a pained sound from the angle of his arm. “You’re hurting me.”

Surprisingly, Logan eases off. He lets Julian’s wrist go and straightens, smoothing his suit jacket as if nothing happened.

Julian pushes himself off the table in a scramble, shoulders heaving, his hair falling into his eyes. His hand bleeds, dripping onto the ruined tablecloth. He doesn’t care. He locks his gaze on Logan, chest tight with fury.

In return, Logan studies him, dark eyes glinting with amusement—and something else. “Will you be good now?”

Julian wants to lunge again, to tear the smug look off his face, but his body shakes too hard, his legs trembling from the clash of adrenaline and terror. His rage holds him upright when nothing else can.

“I’ll kill you,” Julian whispers, voice raw.

Logan tilts his head, his face unreadable. 

Julian’s hand still throbs where the glass cut him, blood sticky against his palm, his wrist aching from the wrench of Logan’s grip. He stands there, chest heaving, staring at the wreckage of the table—at the man who once owned him.

“Sit,” Logan says smoothly, as though Julian hasn’t just tried to stab him. Before, Julian would’ve been punished to hell, would’ve been beaten within an inch of his life. Now, all Logan does is gesture to the chair nearest to the head of the table. “We should enjoy dinner together.”

Julian almost laughs at the absurdity of it, except the sound would come out too wild, too raw. “You think I’m going to sit down and eat with you?”

Logan doesn’t answer right away. He just tips his head toward Ricky, who hasn’t moved from the doorway. With measured calm, Ricky pulls the gun from his waistband and points it at Julian. 

Logan sighs. “It’s clear you still have a lot to learn about trust.”

Julian stares. There’s something eerily different about Logan. It’s in the way he talks to Julian. The way he acts, even. Before, he would send out commands and expect him to obey like a dog, no questions asked. Now, he’s more… subdued, in a way. There’s still power in the way he talks and holds himself, but it’s like he’s trying to be something else. Trying to put on some kind of mask that Julian knows for a fact isn’t the real him.

What the fuck is he playing at?

“Sit,” Logan repeats, that familiar hardness returning to his eyes, seemingly unintentional. “I won’t say it again.”

Julian’s instincts are at war: bolt for the door, hurl himself at Ricky, try again for the knife lying useless on the floor. But all of those options end with a bullet tearing through him before he even makes it three steps. 

And he’s already given into his fury earlier, attempting to stab Logan the moment he saw him. Clearly, it didn’t work. It would be foolish of him to try again, especially so soon and when he’s clearly outnumbered and overpowered.

The time to kill Logan once and for all will come, but it won’t be today.

So he forces himself to move, each step toward the chair heavy with humiliation. The seat to Logan’s right is cold when he lowers himself into it, his posture rigid, his bleeding hand clenched tight in his lap. The gun trained on him doesn’t waver.

Beside him, Logan pours himself another glass of wine, unhurried. He pours a second, sets it in front of Julian as if this is a normal dinner between friends. The stained linen, scattered bits of food and silverware, and glass shards remain where they are, ignored, as though not a single thing is amiss.

Julian doesn’t touch the glass of wine.

Logan watches him with a steady, calculating gaze. “You’re angry. I understand. I’ve earned that.” He leans back in his chair, casual, too calm for the wreckage of glass and food still scattered between them. “I wasn’t kind to you before—I can admit that I made mistakes.”

Julian’s stomach turns. Mistakes. That’s what Logan calls years of abuse, of being used and made to feel like someone who wasn’t even human. 

Mistakes.

Logan sets his glass down, folding his hands neatly on the table. His tone softens, almost tender, but Julian can see right through his pathetic little act. “But I’ve had time to think. To miss you. To realize what we had, what I let it become.” He tilts his head, his gaze intense. “I don’t want you as a pet anymore, Julian. Not just that.”

Julian’s blood runs cold. He hasn’t eaten anything, but he feels bile rise in the back of his throat. “You’ve completely fucking lost it.”

Logan smiles faintly. “I’ve lost a lot. You were one of them. And it made me realize some things.” He leans forward, an uncharacteristic brightness in his eyes that makes Julian’s skin crawl. “I want us to meet in the middle. You and me. Compromise. I want to make you happy, if you’ll let me. And in return, you’ll make me happy. Isn’t that what partnership is?”

Partnership?

Julian stares at him, disbelief cracking into something close to manic laughter. So this is what’s different about Logan. If Logan was a violent, abusive psychopath in the past, now he’s gone completely fucking insane. 

And that makes him all the more dangerous.

Goosebumps rise across Julian’s skin, the fear that’s been hiding underneath coming to the surface once more. He looks at Logan again, at the earnestness in his eyes, at that slightly crazed smile on his face, and he knows immediately that this—whatever it is—won’t be like it was before.

This time, Logan is in a different headspace. A different person, almost. Wants something entirely new from him. That means Julian is in completely brand new territory.

New territory that he has absolutely no clue how to navigate.

It makes his head spin with terror.

“Partnership,” Julian repeats, his voice coming out cracked, edged with disbelief. He feels lightheaded all of a sudden, the adrenaline that took over him drained and gone. “What—what do you even mean by that?”

Julian flinches when Logan reaches a hand out, grabbing his own. He stares in utter shock as Logan intertwines their fingers, holding Julian’s hand as though they were lovers. The odd, unfamiliar softness in his voice only makes Julian’s dread feel even more crushing. “I hurt you before. But it’ll be different this time. I didn’t realize it then, but you were always special to me, Julian.” 

There have been plenty of times in Julian’s life when he felt out of control. He’s been thrown into many situations wherein he’s been clueless or taken by surprise, left in the dark, or completely blind to certain things. But this? Julian has no fucking idea where this is going. He has no idea what exactly Logan wants from him.

He’d always feared that Logan would want to get back at him and take revenge because Julian was essentially the catalyst to his downfall, compromising everything Logan had been trying to build for the past few years. Julian shook the foundations of everything he created, everything he was, and there was nothing Logan hated more than not having control over things.

Never in a million years would he have imagined an outcome like this. Logan holding his hand, his voice soft, talking to Julian as though he was an equal rather than just a toy to use and discard.

It messes with everything he thought he knew about the man.

“Julian,” Logan starts, his hand tightening around Julian’s, “marry me.”

Hearing those words makes Julian’s brain completely blank out. He just sits there, staring at what seems like an unrecognizable version of Logan, blood running cold.

Marry me.

Julian grips his bleeding hand tighter, the sting anchoring him. He wants to hurl the wine glass into Logan’s face, to lunge again, to end this farce with blood. But Ricky shifts minutely, the gun unwavering, and Julian knows he’s trapped for now.

So he sits, skin crawling, every muscle taut with tension. His throat is dry when he swallows, his voice so quiet he can barely hear himself. “That’s not a question, is it?”

Logan’s smile is sharp.

This is… surreal. Julian sits there, waiting for Logan to burst out laughing, to say this is all some twisted mind game, or even for Julian to wake up from this nightmare. 

But none of that happens. 

“I have plans for us,” Logan says. “There’s some business I need to handle here first, but after that, we’re flying to Italy. We’ll build our life there. Start over where no one knows us.”

Julian snatches his hand out of Logan’s grip, his vision spinning. “I’m not going anywhere with you!”

“Once the anger passes, you’ll see we can build something good together.” Logan leans back in his seat, picking up a fork and knife and cutting into his food. “You’ll be happy.”

Enough of this. Julian stands abruptly, the chair falling to the ground behind him. He ignores Ricky raising the gun to follow his movement. “You’re fucking insane. You’re not taking me anywhere, and I’ll never be happy with a monster like you.”

That makes Logan pause. He carefully puts his utensils back down, and then he meets Julian’s eyes. A shadow passes over his gaze, and this time, he looks more like the Logan Julian knows—harsh and rough and violent. 

“Is this because of Delaney?”

Hearing Logan say his name makes Julian sick to his stomach. He spits, “He has nothing to do with any of this.”

Logan stands as well, straightening until he towers over Julian. His smile returns, smaller now, edged with something colder. “You think he understands you? You think he can handle the parts of you I’ve seen, the parts I’ve shaped? He can’t. He’ll break. But me—” Logan spreads his hands, serene. “I know you. The darkest parts. And I love you for them.”

Fucking hell, this man is completely, utterly insane. Julian takes a step away from him, his heart pounding. “Do you hear yourself? Love? What does a person like you know about fucking love?” 

“I’ve always cared for y—”

“You ruined me!” Julian yells with his entire chest, his voice booming. “You treated me as something less than human, you destroyed my fucking life! You threatened my family, hurt the people I loved, made me suffer in every possible way!” He slams two palms against Logan’s chest, shoving him back with strength he didn’t know he had. He looks Logan right in the eye when he hisses, “People like you aren’t capable of loving shit. I would rather fucking die than be stuck with scum like you.”