Noah (7 page)

Julian's forehead creased, and he hesitated a beat before asking. "She cheated on you?"

Right. I hadn't told him why Emma and I broke up.

"Yup. I walked in on her and some guy she'd picked up at the store." I reached for my beer and drained half of it. "This was the day before the plane crash."

"Jesus." Julian flinched. "I'm sorry."

It was what it was. Thinking about Emma didn't hurt as much as it had a few weeks ago. With everything else going on, her betrayal paled in comparison, and it made it easier to move past.

*

That night, it was difficult to sleep.

Boredom had kicked in, which I supposed was a good thing, and I tossed and turned until I gave up. Putting on a pair of sweats, I headed for the living room to watch TV.

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."

"Quit whining." I smirked as I attached my phone to the elastic band around my arm. "You think I'm enjoying this? I'm fucking suffering. But I know it's good for us, and as soon as it becomes a routine, we'll be moping if we
don't
get to run first thing in the morning."

"I highly doubt that," he muttered and slipped into his shorts. "And stop calling it morning. I
like
mornings. This isn't it."

I rolled my eyes.

*

As had become normal once I'd found out Julian smoked, he lit one up as soon as we came out of our building. And this morning, I wasn't having it. I grabbed it and stubbed it out.

He scowled.

"You said you'd been tryin' to quit," I reminded him.

"Yeah, and then my family died."

I didn't reply as I stuck one of the earbuds into my ear. He had a point, and I hadn't been a saint, but we had to move on, yeah? So if I could at least help him smoke less, it was good enough for now.

"Come on." I jerked my chin, and then we were jogging down the street toward the beach. It would be an uphill battle on the way home, and I was planning to make it a race.

Julian kept a few paces behind me, a fan of complaining, which I just thought was fun. He'd be sold soon enough.

Once we were warmed up, I went a bit faster, enjoying the burn in my legs. I didn't know I'd missed it until this week. Getting the blood pumping, heart racing. I felt more energetic with each day that passed, and I was getting ready for more. Namely, work.

I'd read Tennyson's script. Of fucking course, it was brilliant. He wouldn’t have decided to back an entire project for anything less.

They were coming home today, too. They'd spent a week in Vancouver, all of them, and then Tennyson and Sophie had taken their two runts on a vacation to Hawaii. Tonight we were having dinner with them, and I was looking forward to getting Tennyson's thoughts on the script.

It was the kind of project you went all in for, and it was supposed to take place in Paris. For authenticity, it made sense to film it there too, but that required a lot of fucking green.

Like I'd already mentioned, this was a huge deal. I'd been comfortable in my role as the assistant director. But I'd be a liar if I said I didn't wanna go for it. Several buddies in the industry, Tennyson among them, had told me to try.

"No more detours, man," Julian panted. "Let's hit the beach."

Looking over my shoulder, I saw he was sweating and struggling to keep up.
Fair enough
. I made a turn in the next cross section, and it only took us a few minutes to reach the running path.

The sky above the mountains was glowing orange and purple.

As we approached the gym farther down the beach, I slowed and checked my watch. We were good on time. Juiceheads wouldn’t be arriving until much later. After that, the beach gyms were useless.

"I need to lie down," Julian gasped.

"That’s fine." I didn't stop until I reached the bars where I could do chin-ups. "We're racing home today, so you rest while I exhaust myself."

He'd already collapsed on a bench. "That’s one way of saying I'm ridiculously out of shape."

I chuckled and pulled off my T-shirt, using it to wipe off sweat from my hands and forehead. And with the shirt and my phone on the ground next to the bars, I grabbed on and grunted as I pulled myself up.

Julian eyed me before quickly looking away. "So why are we racing?"

One
.

"Because there's a prize."

Two
.

Another thing I'd learned about Julian was that he had the Collins pride. We may not be related by blood, but dammit if he hadn't inherited some of our traits anyway.

I would have to be blind not to notice how much he wanted to use the baby grand piano that had arrived last week, but evidently it was getting in the way of his frugal life.

He was already paying rent, and he didn't borrow my car without filling the tank afterward. He pitched in for food and whatnot, and if he couldn’t imagine a college student affording something, then he'd do his best to stay away from that.

He took the
bus
occasionally.

"Do I even wanna know?" he drawled.

I huffed out a heavy breath.
Nine.
My arms shook on the last one.
Ten.
Then I hopped down and bent over, hands supporting me on my thighs. "It's about the piano." I swallowed dryly, my heart pounding. "You're supposed to play it."

"This again?"

I chuckled, out of breath, and checked my watch to set a rest for another twenty seconds. "That’s where the race comes in." I straightened up and wiped away some more sweat. "If I win, you play."

"You're faster than I am!" he argued.

"Why the fuck do you think I'm working out now while you're resting?"

Apparently, that was the wrong approach. When my twenty seconds were up, I started over with my next ten chin-ups, and I tried something new on Julian.

"Never mind," I grunted. "Not every well-rested young man can take on a fucking spent forty-year-old who can barely breathe."

He flipped me off at that, and I winked at him.

"Asshole." He fought a smile. "You never mentioned what I get if I win."

Six
.

"Pick whatever you want."

That
turned out to be the right approach. Noted for next time.

His eyes lit up, and I could practically hear the wheels turning.

"Okay, if I win…" He paused, pursing his lips. "Drum roll."

I jumped down one chin-up too early 'cause I had to laugh. He was a sweet fucking guy, and his good mood was infectious. I really dug having him around.

"If I win, you let me get a pet."

I cocked a brow. "A pet?"

"Yeah." He shrugged and looked out over the ocean. "We had a cat in Berlin."

I remembered. And I fucking hated cats.

Luckily, I was gonna win.

"Deal, kid. You win, you can get a pet."

*

I was almost there.

We only had the hill left, and then we were home.

Julian was all but dead on his feet, but he kept pushing. He ran some ten feet ahead of me. I was running on fumes, but challenges were my crack and I could go faster.

"You ready to go down?" I called, panting.

He gasped for air as he laughed. "Thanks, but you're not my type!"

I grinned and narrowed my eyes. We were halfway up the hill, so I reckoned it was time to show him who was boss.

Every part of me burned and protested. I fucking loved it. It made me feel alive.

The sun was climbing higher.

Julian growled in frustration when he noticed I was coming up next to him.

As I passed, I couldn’t help myself. "I'm everyone's type."

I gave it my all and sprinted the last distance, seriously doubting I'd be able to stand up in the shower later. But fuck it. Sweat poured down my chest, the shirt in my hand was soaked, and my eyes stung.

I reached the door a couple seconds before Julian did, and he—hell, both of us—were too spent to dish out digs.

My legs were turning into jelly, so I opened the door and got into the elevator. In another moment or two, I'd need to sit down, regardless of where I was.

"The young oughta carry the old." I threw an arm around Julian's shoulders and leaned back against the wall. The elevator was kinda slow, so it let me catch my breath a bit more.

"You're heavy. And sweaty as hell."

"No shit?" I chuckled.

I tilted my head, smiling down at him. He looked healthy with flushed cheeks and bright eyes. Blue, I noted. Bluish, grayish. His curly hair was darker than usual with sweat.

"You did good today." I wanted him to know that.

He nodded and looked down, but I could still see his smile.

"Thanks."

*

Two of my old roommates were brothers and had shared the master bedroom because it was bigger. I had lived in the room Julian was in today, and my third roommate had lived in my new study. And since the master bedroom was still new to me, I wasn’t used to having my own bathroom, so I tended to use the one in the hall. Which, of course, Julian liked to point out as stupid.

As I stood under the spray, eyes closed, shivers of contentment running through me, he knocked on the door and told me to hurry up.

Like I'd done the past few days, I told him to use my shower instead. He'd declined the other times, but I guessed he'd had enough. I heard him stomping into my room.

I grinned to myself for no apparent reason and started soaping up. It was so fucking good. My legs felt weak, but I'd live. Hanging my head, I pressed and rubbed lazily, my chest, my neck, my arms. I washed my cock and gave it a slow stroke. It had been understandably dead for a while, but there was some sexual frustration buried somewhere.

The thought of dating or even hooking up for a night didn't even exist. I wanted to be alone, and I didn't mind building up a nice porn stash.

My stomach growled and twisted in hunger, though. Jacking off could wait.

I turned off the water and stepped out, wrapping a towel around my hips. I'd actually grown to like my beard, so I let it be and just applied some deodorant before I left the bathroom.

Once in my bedroom, I opened my closet and removed my towel to run it over my head. At the same time, Julian emerged with a cloud of steam from the shower.

"Breakfast's in the fridge," I told him, in case he was too hungry to wait.

"A-All right," he stammered as he dropped a sneaker on the floor. He was quick to pick it up, his arms full, which reminded me I'd left my workout clothes in the bathroom. Julian adjusted his towel and darted out, still flushed from our run.

Drying my junk, I picked out a pair of boxer briefs and a pair of jeans. A T-shirt would suffice for now, and then when we had dinner tonight, I could change into a button-down depending on whether we'd go out or stay in at Tennyson and Sophie's.

*

"I need a nap." Julian yawned and threw himself on the couch after breakfast. "I'll admit that the exercise is helping in some ways, but don't you get tired once the adrenaline has settled?"

"Sometimes." I nodded and sat down on the other end. "Nothing wrong with a nap here and there, though." He could sleep while I took some notes on the script. "I'll wake you if you sleep talk about your brother and sister again."

It had become an unspoken rule. He napped on the couch when he hadn't had a good night's sleep, and he seemed to appreciate it when I stayed close. To be honest, I liked it, too.

"You're taking up too much space." He gave his feet a pointed look, indicating he couldn’t stretch his legs out.

Weird. The day before yesterday, he'd had no issue planting his feet on my lap while I watched a movie. But then, I hadn't been working.

I eyed him pensively. "You could always sleep in your bed, you know." This couch was extremely comfy, but the one time I'd fallen asleep here, I'd woken up the next morning with a sore neck. "I can sit at your desk and do this. I don't mind."

Knowing that Julian found it difficult to ask for things and sometimes worried he was in the way, I didn't give him a choice. I stood up with the script and my notebook and told him to follow.

Unlike me, who could sleep with bright lights, music, the TV, and so on, Julian needed darkness and silence. So I drew the blinds and only let the lamp on his desk stay on.

He was quiet as he stripped down to boxers and a T-shirt, and then he slipped under the covers and scooted closer to the wall, his back to the room.