Chapter Twelve. Julian #2
Julian clenched his jaw but managed a begrudging “Fine.”
The line went dead, and Julian handed the phone back to Yadriel without a word. He slumped back against the couch, exhaustion weighing him down.
“Well,” Yadriel said softly, his voice cutting through the heavy silence. “That went … okay?”
Julian didn’t reply. He simply stared at the ceiling, his thoughts churning.
The relief of staying the night was overshadowed by the lingering tension increasingly building between him and his brother.
The morning would eventually come, bringing all his problems back with it, but for now, he let himself be comforted by the warmth of Yadriel’s presence.
Yadriel gave Julian’s hand a gentle tug, pulling him up from the couch. “Come on,” he said softly. “Help me with something.”
Julian followed, still feeling hollowed out from the call with Rio. But when they reached the dining table, he paused. It was piled with supplies—carving knives, colorful markers, small pots of paint, and sheets of vibrant foil. In the center sat a box of plain white pillar candles.
“What’s all this?” Julian asked, brow furrowed.
“For the Midnight Vigil,” Yadriel said, picking up a blank candle and turning it in his hands. “You want to make one?”
Julian blinked. “Wait—I’m invited?”
Yadriel let out a soft laugh, the kind that crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Of course you are, Jules. You’re part of the East LA brujx now. Obviously, you’ve gotta experience your first vigil.”
The knot in Julian’s chest loosened just a little. He tried to play it cool. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, okay. Sounds good.”
Yadriel slid a candle across the table toward him, then offered a handful of sequins, some paint pots, and a carving knife. “You decorate it with things that matter to you—or to whoever you’re dedicating it to. It’s meant to help guide their spirit and honor their memory.”
Julian turned the candle over in his hand thoughtfully. “What are you gonna put on yours?”
Yadriel’s smile softened. “Mine’s for my mom. I’m going to decorate it with a lot of red, draw marigolds, maybe add some gold foil. She loved marigolds.”
Julian hesitated, fingers brushing over the smooth wax. “Who … who should mine be for?” he asked, heart fluttering in his chest.
Yadriel glanced at him, gentle and knowing. “Maybe your dad?”
The mention of his dad hit Julian like a punch to the gut. He swallowed hard, memories of laughter, soccer games, and long drives on the PCH flooding his mind. “I don’t know,” he said softly, his voice cracking just a little. “I miss him so much…”
Yadriel reached out, resting a hand on Julian’s arm. “This is a way to remember him, Jules. To honor everything he meant to you.”
Julian nodded, blinking hard. “Yeah. Okay. Let’s do it.”
He grabbed a blue marker and uncapped it, sketching broad stripes along the side of the candle—LA Galaxy colors, his dad’s favorite team.
Then he drew a lopsided version of the Stingray, his dad’s beloved project car, and added silver sequins for the rims. It looked more like a jelly bean on wheels than a muscle car, but he smiled anyway.
Beside him, Yadriel worked quietly, his candle blossoming with painted marigolds and golden accents. He carefully painted tiny flowers in clusters, the strokes precise and reverent.
Lita reappeared from the kitchen with two clay mugs and set them gently on the table. “Here we go!” she said. “Just what you need.”
The rich scent of cocoa filled the air, a cinnamon stick swirling lazily in each mug.
“Thanks,” Julian said, taking a cautious sip—then blinking in surprise. “Whoa, this is legit. What’s in it?”
“Cocoa, sugar, vanilla, cinnamon, cloves, and milk,” Lita listed off, a note of pride in her voice.
“Damn, you use milk?” Julian asked, impressed. That explained how it was so rich and frothy. “Fancy. Usually Rio just makes Swiss Miss with hot water.” Not that he ever complained.
Yadriel gave a little laugh as he settled back beside him, their shoulders brushing. “My mom always made this when things were hard. Said it was like a hug for your insides.”
Julian chuckled. “There’s gotta be some magic in this,” he murmured, half joking, half wistful.
“Maybe there is,” Yadriel replied, his voice soft, eyes reflecting the flicker of candlelight from his mom’s altar in the corner of the room.
The warmth of the drink seeped into his bones, pushing back the lingering chill of fear and grief. For a few quiet minutes, the only sounds were the scratch of markers, the clink of sequins, and the soft hum of Yadriel beside him.
When they finished, Julian picked up his candle and squinted at it critically. The lines were uneven. The Stingray was questionable, but the silver stars along the top and the glittery soccer ball sticker near the base made him smile.
“Looks perfect,” Yadriel said, and Julian could tell he meant it.
Julian grinned. “Yours is amazing,” he said, leaning over to admire the tiny, intricate marigolds.
They placed their candles on the windowsill. Outside, the soft glow of the cemetery’s streetlights caught on the foil and glitter, making them shimmer in the dark. Side by side, the candles stood as quiet testaments to memory and love.
Julian let out a soft, shaky sigh. For the first time in what felt like days, his heart was a little lighter.
Yadriel led Julian to the corner of the living room where they began piecing together a makeshift bed.
The couch cushions were dragged to the floor, layered with a mismatched pile of lumpy pillows and thin blankets.
It was far from luxurious, but together it formed a kind of cozy nest beside the couch.
Lita had already claimed her usual spot in the recliner by the window. A thick tiger-print blanket covered her lap, and her head was tilted back, mouth slightly open as soft, rhythmic snores filled the room.
Julian glanced at her and lowered his voice. “So she meant it. She’s really sleeping out here with us?”
Yadriel shrugged, trying not to smile. “House rules. Come on,” he said, leading the way upstairs. “You sure you want to borrow some clothes to sleep in?” Yadriel asked. “You’re literally wearing your pajamas—”
“Yes, I want to wear yours! How often do I get the excuse to wear my boyfriend’s stuff to sleep?” Julian said with a grin.
Yadriel laughed and shook his head as they walked into his bedroom. “You know, you could just have one of my shirts to take home with you,” he said, pulling out a black tee from a drawer.
Julian snatched it from his hand. “Great! It’s mine!”
Yadriel smiled up at Julian, leaning into his chest before planting a soft kiss on his lips. Julian closed his eyes and savored it for a moment, soaking in the warmth and sweetness.
“You’re ridiculous,” Yadriel told him.
“You’re into it,” Julian teased back.
A few minutes later, they were back downstairs.
“I’m impressed it actually fits!” Julian said, smoothing down the front of the buttery soft T-shirt. “I’m, like, way bigger than you!”
Yadriel gave a sheepish shrug. “Yeah. I always buy stuff big. It’s just … more comfortable.”
Julian glanced down at himself. “It’s giving ‘lost child at El Mercadito’ energy.”
Yadriel laughed under his breath. “You make it work.”
As they sank into the pile of blankets, Julian let his body relax for the first time all night. The floor was firm beneath them, but the warmth of Yadriel’s presence and the soft backdrop of Lita’s snores made the room feel safer somehow. Quieter.
Julian shifted closer anyway, like his body didn’t trust safety unless it could feel Yadriel’s pulse under his fingertips. “Never thought I’d be spending the night like this,” he murmured, voice low.
“Me neither,” Yadriel said with a quiet laugh. “But hey—at least we’re together, right?”
“Right.”
They lay there for a moment, the hush between them gentle and easy. Julian turned his head to look at Yadriel—at the calm in his expression, the steady breath rising and falling. The kind of calm Julian was desperate to hold on to.
“Sometimes I feel like I’m just stumbling in the dark, trying to keep my head above water,” Julian admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.