Inspired by one of CP's plurk posts.
"What are you doing here?" Julian is stunned. The sight of security scrambling up behind the crazed blond boy makes for a grand entrance. The boy has made enough of a commotion that everyone is staring.
The blond boy swallows,"I'm taking you home..." He really doesn't know how else to say it. Stunned silence follows. Everyone is politely quiet, but more than likely secretly titillated by the unfolding drama.
Security comes up behind to pull the boy away. Julian waves them away. The burly head of security isn't so sure it's a good idea and lingers behind.
"Lo, I'm in a middle of a shoot." "I can wait." Simple as that.
Just then, the set director calls everyone back on set. With a look back, Julian leaves to go back to work.
Julian is listless in front of the camera. It's too much of a shock. He knows it. The photographer too, can sense the change from his earlier performance. Assuming that it's Julian still recovering, the director let's him off with advice to take it easy on himself. They have enough pictures from earlier anyway.
He escapes to the washroom, with the pretence of washing off the makeup, but in reality it's his only refuge. His hands shake when he reaches for the tap.
Logan waits outside, arms crossed, one shoulder leaning against the wall. Long legs crossed at the ankle. When the door opens he turns his head to the side to look. Julian emerges, face scrubbed clean. The few freckles on his nose and faint white scars on his neck showing. Little imperfections that give him character. Signifying the individual that he is and not a mass produced perfect doll.
They regard each other silently for a good few seconds. Julian yields first, looking away. He doesn't know what to say. What can he say?
He left. No, he ran. Ran away from Ohio. Ran away from Dalton. Ran away from Logan. He tried. He really did. But the stares in the hallways, the whispers, and the ever present scent of burnt wood that rose from the damaged building and lingered over the grounds did not help. He felt suffocated. There was no respite, everything reminded him of that night. Not for one second was he allowed to forget.
The last straw came late one night when he found himself shaking in cold sweat, in a full blown panic attack. He was in the kitchen of Stuart house getting a glass of milk to help him sleep, when the electricity cut out. Common enough occurrence with the old wiring of the house and the pranks the Twins liked to play. But oh God! was he terrified. And not the funny Ha!Ha! kind you gush to your friends about after a visit to the carnival House of Horrors. NO. The late hour meant most everyone was asleep and oblivious to the power cut. In the near absolute stillness of the night, he had the most terrifying experience of his life. Not even the Hell Night compared. Back then, everything was going on at once, he was too busy to be terrified.
But not then in the kitchen. With nothing but his own paranoid fears, Julian mistook his own ragged breathing for a possible intruder. His adrenalin bathed brain going a thousand miles an hour. The creak of his own footsteps on the old wood, the scrape of branches against the window, everything told him there was someone there with him. His heartbeat roared in his ears, his lungs felt like they were bound in iron chains. He wanted to die then, just to get it over with.
Agonising hours later, they (and that meant Logan and Derek), found him cowered in the pantry, wielding a kitchen knife. He was covered in blood. His own apparently, from where he had cut himself rummaging through the knife drawer in his panic. The rest of the week he spent in a near catatonic state, drugged up to his eyeballs.
Oh, how Logan had brought down the full wrath of the heavens on a very chagrined pair of Twins the next day. They had not meant any harm really, the weren't even targeting Stuart. Just one of their hair brained ideas not going as planned and took out the power to the entire campus. Nevertheless, since then it was impossible for Julian to be alone after sunset. Like some debilitating disease, he required supervision whenever artificial lighting was needed. It was humiliating. He felt like an invalid. Like some kid learning to swim, he'd sink as soon as someone let go.
But the worst part? Was Logan. Or this version of Logan anyway. This Logan who was caring, sympathetic and gentle. Who walked on eggshells around him. All this time, not once was the humiliating confession in the art hall brought up. Julian thinks its because of his 'fragile' condition. So Logan humours him instead, playing this caricature role of a supportive friend and caretaker, not doing anything that might upset the invalid. That included not mooning over Kurt, Julian noticed. It must have taken enormous willpower on Logan's part. It's not that Julian is ungrateful, it's just that he doesn't anyone, especially not Logan to live a less than full life on his account. It's not fair to his friends to have to care for for him when they clearly already have too much on their plates. He can see the toll it's taking.
He left barely a two weeks later. In the middle of the day, when everyone was at their busiest to notice. No goodbyes. He just-...left. Only the neatly made bed and dutifully returned borrowed notes and books on their tables signalled something amiss to his friends. His .friends.
Money buys you the best of things in life. Like a super luxurious car with a privacy shield and a discreet driver. Julian could care less that afternoon. Every kid in a blue blazer with red piping he passed was a reminder of the life he was forcing himself to retreat from. How did it end up like this? Not wanting to leave, but not able to stay either.
The car made it as far as Dobry Hall, before he sank completely across the leather back seat and cried his heart out into the dalton sweatshirt that he stole from Logan's room, right off the back of his chair. From Derek he took some pictures off his wall and the athletes favourite lucky cap. Pictures that he kept in his daybook right up to today, the cap and sweatshirt he wore nearly everyday as disguise.
He's thrown himself completely into work ever since. The busier the better. No time to think means no time to care. And that meant passing out too exhausted to even dream. Just what he wants.
Yet with every passing day, the lie gets ever deeper. Everyday he dies a little more inside. Who is he? A robotic pretty faced performer? Yes it's called acting, get the expression right and you fool every one to thinking you're something you're not. But don't you need to feel in the first place to know the expression you're giving is the right one? He feels nothing. So he's acting 24/7 these days even when there is no one around. Only now is he realising how big of a chunk of himself he left back at Dalton.
One word. That was all it took. How disgustingly fragile was he?
"Jules..." That was all Logan said and Julian blanches, leaning back against the opposite wall. He is cold all of a sudden, he draws the sweatshirt closer, clutching at the back of his arms. Why does Logan have to say his name like that? Pleading yet affectionate. Like a soothing hand on his bruised soul. He had thought he would never hear that voice again. He blinks furiously, willing himself not to cry.
"Are you packed? We can go to the hotel and pick up the rest of your stuff if you need." Its so matter of fact that its surreal, like its some routine pickup. There is no harshness in his tone, but make no mistake, it is an order.
For a moment, the old Julian surfaces. He doesn't like getting ordered around. "I never agreed- to go." Defiance; even if his voice is starting to break. A quick wipe of unshed tears and his right hand goes back to clutching his left elbow.
"Okay. Fine then. I'm staying with you." The reply is quick. Much to quick. He's already expected Julian to resist. Julian balks. What kind of insane mind game is Logan playing?
"What? You're going to drop out of school and stay here with me?" Julian shoots back sarcastically between softly hitching breaths. He's bluffing. He has to be...right? He has that slightly insane glint in his eyes, and that stubborn set to his jaw.
Logan's turn to look at his feet. He pushes himself off the wall and paces a short distance along the short corridor. "I flunked a test." He finally says; coming to a stop in front of Julian.
The actor blinks at him incredulously.
"I have never flunked a test. Not when I was going after Blaine or Joshua or Kurt. Not even when they broke up with me. Or when my father calls and says something that pisses me off for weeks." Julian knows. There is no 'flunking' at Dalton. Especially with all the shenanigans going on. The best way to keep the teachers out of their business, is glowing good grades. No reason for them to suspect you.
"I'm so distracted I can't sit still for more than 2 minutes. I spend most of my waking hours worrying about you. If you're ok, if you're eating well or if you're sleeping enough. Are you out partying into the night because you need the distraction? Are you having nightmares? Is anyone there with you when you do? ...Do you miss Dalton, do you miss us? Are you-..happy wherever you are?" The last part; Logan's voice cracks. He wipes the back of his hand over his mouth to regain his composure.
He brings his hands up to rub at his tired eyes. "Do you know how many lanky brunettes are there in Dalton? I look every time one passes. Even when I know it's not you. I still LOOK...just to make sure. This crazy part of me is convinced that if I look hard enough, one day it will be you walking by. And I'd kick myself if I missed it-.."
Julian can't bear to hear anymore. "St-op! Just stop..." He begs softly between stuttering sobs. This wasn't what he wanted. He left so all this wouldn't happen. So Logan could concentrate on his studies, his future; put all this behind and make something of himself. Just like with his stalker, Julian would draw all the venom to himself, bear all the punishment. Of course the last time he left too late. He thought he was quick enough this time.
Why does his choices always come back to bite him? The wind goes completely out of his sails and he slides to the floor, face hidden behind his hands. Logan looms above him. And just like that night, he's in the same humiliating position on the floor. Forced to swallow his pride and confront what he's been avoiding. How many times must he be torn apart because of this blond boy?
"I will, as soon as you stop trying to be a martyr." Logan drops to his knees to sit in front of Julian. "STOP running." He pulls Julian's hands away from his face and tugs the brunette towards himself.
Game over. Julian collapses into him; hugging tightly around Logan's neck, face buried in his shoulder. Logan returns the embrace just as firmly.
"I don't know what else to do..." Comes the sobbing lost response. "Come back to Dalton. Come home. Give us a chance. Give ME a chance."
The boy with sweatshirt he's clinging to smells wonderful. Such familiar comfort. Yes; home. Ironic that right now he's in the city that he was born, but home means 2000 plus miles away in the arms of a green eyed blond boy.
An almost imperceptible nod signals his decision. Logan gives him a few more minutes to let him gather his strength, then pull both of them up. Short discussion about going back to the hotel, and they are on their way, walking hand in hand out of the studio.
"By the way, Derek wants his lucky cap back. He's had a rough couple of matches."