Chapter Thirty-One. Julian #2
Inside, the living room was already a nest of blinking lights, pizza boxes, and people he loved.
Twinkling LEDs framed the windows. Plates of Hot-N-Ready slices and sugar-dusted hojarascas crowded the coffee table along with half a dozen mismatched soda cans.
A playlist of holiday music hid under the real soundtrack of yelling, smack talk, and occasional victorious shrieks.
Omar ducked into the hallway, FaceTiming his parents in Honduras.
His voice softened, proud and careful Spanish threading through the static.
Luca, now fully awake, sat cross-legged with a controller, his bracelet snug on his wrist. He looked more himself than Julian had seen in weeks—bright-eyed, snorting at Rocky’s trash talk, grinning whenever Julian caught his eye.
Julian couldn’t stop glancing at him. Watching his shoulders. His hands. No shadows. No tremble. No darkness clinging to him like before.
He’d even checked—subtly, with a half hug and a clap on the shoulder—and there’d been nothing on Luca’s chest. His Marca Hueca was gone and every laugh loosened something inside Julian.
Julian sat on the floor, back against the couch, with Yadriel perched beside him and Maritza sprawled across the armchair like she owned it.
“Okay, debrief,” Rocky said around a cookie. “We saw the news—earthquake but not, mysterious lights, power blip. What actually happened?”
Julian flopped down with his legs in Yadriel’s lap. “CliffsNotes? Death god. Big. Hungry. Tried to eat me.”
Omar grimaced. “Like … literally?”
“Literally,” Julian said.
Flaca stared. “And you’re just”—she gestured at him—“sitting here eating pizza?”
“Pizza is medicinal,” he said. “Also? We freed the trapped ghosts—”
“Spirits,” Yadriel corrected.
“Angel’s not forgiven, but she’s free.”
Maritza saluted with a cookie. “And we anchored Julian’s dramatic ass while he did it.”
“Everyone played a very important role,” Yadriel put in, peacemaker to the bone.
Rio wandered in from the kitchen with a dish towel over his shoulder. He brushed a glance over the room—Julian, Luca, all of them alive and breathing—and let out a quiet breath that wasn’t quite a smile.
Then he dropped onto the edge of the couch, woke a controller with his thumb, and said, “So, who’s losing?”
Everyone gathered in the living room and settled in to play. On the TV, Mario Party chaos unfolded in full swing.
“HOW—” Omar shouted as Rocky’s character spun a wheel and stole half his coins. “HOW are you this evil?!”
“It’s a gift,” Rocky said smugly. “You’re just pissed I’m better than you.”
Omar muttered under his breath, clutching his controller like it had betrayed him.
“You’re all amateurs!” Julian declared. “The key to Mario Party is emotional warfare!”
“You would know,” Flaca said, tossing a pillow at him. “You’re a menace. You STOLE MY STAR.”
“It’s called strategy, my friend!”
“It’s called sleeping with one eye open, Diaz!” she growled.
From the armchair, Rio didn’t flinch. Didn’t even look up. “He’s not wrong.”
Julian’s head shot up. “Wait. Was that support? From you?”
“I didn’t say it was admirable,” Rio said, still focused on his controller. “Just effective.”
Flaca scowled at him. “Why are you so good at this? You never play!”
“I don’t play.” Rio smirked faintly. “I win.”
That earned him a round of groans from everyone but Luca, who clapped appreciatively. “It’s the quiet ones you have to watch,” he said wisely.
“Rio’s just trying to distract us while he steals all the stars,” Maritza said, narrowing her eyes. She was perched cross-legged on the floor, a cookie in one hand and the controller in the other. “He thinks if he says more than three words total, we won’t notice him pulling ahead.”
“You’re not wrong,” Yadriel murmured, watching helplessly as his Waluigi wandered around a cemetery. “I have no idea where I am.”
“You’re across the board,” Luca said cheerfully. “I changed the sign so you’d get trapped there. It was hilarious.”
Yadriel blinked. “Wow.”
“You deserved it,” Maritza added, “for being so good-looking all the time.”
“That’s not how Mario Party works!” Yadriel said, flustered.
“Jealousy is very on theme for the holidays,” Julian said, popping a cookie in his mouth. “I saw it in The Muppet Christmas Carol.”
“Can we get through one round without Julian quoting Muppets?” Flaca groaned.
“No,” he said with his mouth full. “Because it’s peak cinema.”
Rocky was cackling now, thriving in the chaos. “This is why this game ends friendships.”
“Which is why it’s tradition.” Omar grunted, squinting at the screen. “Also, whose idea was it to let Maritza use the golden pipe? That’s just violence.”
“You fools gave me power!” Maritza sang.
The room dissolved into a fresh round of shouting as Maritza launched herself across the board, triggered a duel, and lost to Rio by two milliseconds in a button-mashing contest.
“No!” Flaca howled. “She was our only hope!”
Rio just shrugged and passed Julian the pizza box. “Maybe next time,” he said.
Julian snorted, still grinning as he settled deeper into the cushions.
He watched his friends—the way Omar dramatically flung himself back like he’d been assassinated, the way Rocky kept trying to steal from everyone equally just to keep things fair, the way Luca glowed with laughter, totally himself again.
And then there was Yadriel. Sitting beside him with a candle cookie in one hand, smiling like he couldn’t believe he was here, like it was all some small miracle.
This was what home felt like. Warm light. Full bellies. Dumb jokes. Chaos and cookies. It was the people who made the ache bearable.
Julian leaned his head back against Yadriel’s shoulder and exhaled. “God, I missed this.”
“Almost dying?” Rocky asked, deadpan.
“No.” Julian smirked. “Being here, with all of you.”
“GAAAY,” Flaca droned, pelting him with a pizza crust.
Rocky made gagging noises and pretended to throw up onto her empty plate.
Omar groaned loudly. “Gross, dude.”
“Sorry we’re not emotionally repressed,” Maritza said cheerfully, snagging another cookie. “Now pass me the hot chocolate. I’m about to ruin your lives.”
“I thought it was nice!” Luca said through deep belly laughs.
Julian just laughed, warm and real.
He looked around the room—Rio and Omar bickering over the last slice of pepperoni, Rocky and Flaca cackling as they picked new characters for the next round, Luca snuggled under a blanket sleepy but smiling, Yadriel snorting beside him, Maritza curled up on the arm of the couch with a controller in her lap—and peace settled warm in his chest.
Julian smiled until his cheeks hurt. This was home.