I'd bought a flat screen for Julian, but I didn't want one in my room.
The script was still on the coffee table.
Fuck it.
I got up to make some coffee and read the script, but the moment I reached the kitchen, I heard a strangled cry coming from down the hall. Julian had told me he had nightmares every now and then.
Changing direction, I walked down the hall and listened through his door.
"Stop laughing, Lin," I heard him mumble. "I'm serious. Don't go on that flight."
"Shit," I whispered. He was dreaming about his sister, and was…what, trying to warn her? That couldn’t end well.
Julian cursed viciously, and there was a thump coming from his room that made me reach for the doorknob. Then I waited. It was quiet for a while, but eventually I heard him moving around.
I gave the door a couple knocks before I opened it. Worry shot through me when I realized he was crying, but instead of giving comfort a go, I was struck mute and immobile. I guessed my impression of Julian wasn't everything. Half-shy and cautious, I knew. But wearing only pajama bottoms revealed tattoos along his ribcage, one nipple pierced, and the little shit was smoking a cigarette out the window.
I ignored the smoking for now, though.
Staring at him, it was easy to see his battle. Trying to keep his hurt to himself but failing. He stared back, apprehensive, but then he sorta gave up. He hung his head and rubbed at his eyes, tears rolling down freely.
"I hate losing them over and over," he croaked. "It's the same almost every night."
I closed the door behind me and approached the window. It was dark, though the streetlamps from outside provided enough light to see he was a fucking mess.
As I leaned back against the wall and folded my arms over my chest, he took a pull from the smoke and then threw it out.
"Sorry about that," he muttered.
"It's okay." It wasn’t the smell that bothered me. It was the temptation. Despite it being a habit I'd kicked twenty years ago, I tended to go for vices in rough times. "Tell me about your dream."
He shuddered and wiped his cheeks. "They're always fine. Laughing and joking around. I drop them off at the airport knowing what's going to happen, and they don't listen to me. I guess, in my dream, the plane crashes on the way from Germany."
Fuck, that had to be hell. My dreams usually revolved around childhood memories, and there was the occasional nightmare where I relived the day I found out about the crash on the news.
Whatever thoughts were running through Julian's mind became too much for him. He buried his face in his hands, shoulders trembling from silent cries.
"It hurts too fucking much, Noah."
I yanked him in for a hug, acting on instinct. The pain in his raw voice made me choke up, too. "I know it's not much, but I'm here for you, Julian." I'd thought he was doing better. Maybe he was, but I'd been a fool to believe he wasn't still in pain. "You don't have to hide any of this for me. Remember we said no pretending?"
He nodded jerkily, hugging me back, and I tightened my hold. It was a fucking relief. Human contact. I'd missed it beyond words. Touch gave me energy. I was a physical man, and without affection, the world was bleaker.
"We'll get through this together, yeah?" I stroked his back, my mind trying to come up with ways that could help. Activity had always worked for me. Exercise, healthy eating, staying occupied.
Julian shivered and nodded again. "Thank you."
"I'm just as thankful," I murmured. "Easier finding purpose with you here, kid."
And, goddammit, we were starting tomorrow. I was done hiding at home.Chapter 7
Two weeks later
"Rise and shine, ya little fucker!" I banged on Julian's door and then proceeded to the kitchen. A bunch of fruit, some protein powder, and ginger went into the blender, and as usual, he didn't wake up from the noise. Or, rather, the kid ignored it.
It'd been a week of this now, so I was getting used to it.
Julian Hartley was not a morning person.
After placing our breakfast shakes in the fridge, I went back to wake him up. I tightened the drawstrings on my sweats and scrolled down on my phone to find today's playlist.
"Julian!" I pushed his door open and headed straight for his closet.
"Get out," he said groggily into his pillow. "Enough of this hell."
"Did you get any sleep?" I found a T-shirt and a pair of shorts and threw them at him.
"Some. No nightmares."
"That’s because you're staying active," I told him.
Exercise couldn’t cure depression all on its own, and he'd had a handful of bad dreams these past two weeks, but it was a good start.
"Like I have a damn choice." He sat up, eyes filled with sleep, hair messier than ever, and reluctantly pulled on the shirt. "The sun hasn't even come up, Noah."