Chapter 20 Malik #2
The silence stretches, heavy and loaded.
I can practically hear the gears turning in his head, can feel the way he’s weighing every possible response, testing each word for sharp edges before he lets it past his lips.
That’s Julian, always calculating, always three moves ahead, always protecting himself from the consequences of speaking his truth.
Then he turns his head, just enough to meet my gaze over his shoulder. His eyes are unguarded for once, vulnerable in the afternoon light. “I don’t know.”
It’s not a deflection. It’s not one of his carefully crafted non-answers designed to reveal nothing while sounding like everything. It’s the truth, raw and unfiltered and brave, and it settles between us like a challenge thrown down at our feet.
I brush my thumb over his cheekbone, marveling at the way he leans into the touch instead of away from it. “I don’t want this to end when we get back to California. There’s no way I’m going to let you walk away from me again, Miles. I meant that. Those weren’t just pretty words to get you naked.”
Julian’s eyes flicker, something like panic flashing through them before he schools his expression back into that maddening neutrality. “Malik—”
“I’m not asking for promises.” I keep my voice steady and sure, even as my heart pounds against my ribs like it’s trying to break free.
“I’m not demanding some grand romantic gesture or asking you to hold a press conference.
I’m just saying I don’t want to pretend this isn’t real when we step off that plane. ”
He exhales shakily, the sound catching in his throat. “It’s not that simple.”
“Why not?” The question comes out sharper than I intended, frustration bleeding through despite my best efforts to keep this gentle.
“Because it’s not just about us.” His voice drops to barely above a whisper, but there’s an edge to it, something sharp and brittle that makes my chest ache.
“This thing between us, it affects so many aspects of both our lives. The music, the business, the people who depend on us. You know what’s at stake. ”
I do. Of course I do. His career built on careful respectability.
His reputation as the golden boy of jazz who never puts a foot wrong.
The life he’s constructed brick by careful brick on a foundation of silence and control.
The record label executives who still see queerness as a liability.
The critics who would tear him apart for being anything other than what they expect.
None of that feels as important as the man in my arms right now.
I don’t give a fuck about the consequences, not when his happiness hangs in the balance.
Regardless of what happens, I will hold him up.
I will do whatever I need to support him, protect him, love him through whatever comes next.
I guide him to turn in my arms and cup his face in both hands, forcing him to meet my gaze, refusing to let him look away from this.
“I’ve waited seventeen years, Miles. Seventeen years of wondering what if I could ever fix what I broke, of missing you, of trying to convince myself I didn’t need this.
I can wait a little longer for you to figure out how to live your truth.
Know this, put it on everything I love, I’ve got you.
Whatever you need, however long it takes, I’ve got you. ”
Julian’s eyes search mine desperately, like he’s looking for something, doubt, maybe, or hesitation, or some sign that this is all just another performance. He won’t find it. Not here. Not with me. Not when I’ve spent nearly two decades learning exactly what it means to lose him.
Finally, he exhales, his shoulders dropping as some of that rigid tension melts away. “It’s getting harder.”
“What is?” I ask, though I think I already know.
“This.” He gestures vaguely between us, his hand trembling slightly. “The secrecy. The hiding. It’s not because of you. God, it’s not because I’m ashamed of you or what we are. But pretending to be someone I’m not, pretending you don’t mean everything to me. . .it’s killing me.”
I don’t say anything. I just wait, giving him the space to find his words, to work through whatever he’s trying to tell me. The silence feels sacred, fragile, like speaking too soon might shatter whatever courage he’s gathering.
Julian swallows hard, his throat working.
“I don’t know if I can keep doing it much longer.
I don’t want to hide anymore, Malik. I’m so fucking tired of living in shadows, of measuring every word and gesture and glance.
I want to live out in the open. With you.
I want the world to know that you’re mine, that I’m yours, that this is real and beautiful and worth celebrating. ”
The words hang between us, heavy and fragile all at once. It’s not a promise, not yet. It’s not a declaration with a timeline attached, but it’s something. It’s movement. It’s real in a way that makes my chest tight with hope and terror in equal measure.
I tell myself that for now, that’s enough.
I pull him back against me, my arms wrap around his torso like I can shield him from the world just by holding on tight enough.
Julian doesn’t resist. He melts into me, his body relaxes against mine like he’s finally letting himself believe his own words, finally allowing himself to imagine a future where love doesn’t have to live in the margins.
Outside our window, Paris hums with late-evening energy, distant traffic, muffled voices from the street below, the faraway wail of a siren cutting through the urban symphony.
In here, cocooned in hotel sheets and possibility, it’s just us.
Just this. Two men who lost each other once, finding their way back step by careful step.
I press my lips to the back of his neck, breathing him in, soap and skin and something uniquely all Julian. “We don’t have to figure it all out right now.”
Julian’s fingers find my forearm, curling around it like an anchor. “No?”
“No.” I tighten my hold on him, letting him feel how solid this is, how sure I am. “But we probably should figure out how to get out of this bed before Eli or Renee start breaking down doors looking for us. You know they’re going to notice if we both disappear for hours.”
Julian laughs, actually laughs, the sound warm and real and utterly unguarded, and it settles something in my chest that I didn’t even realize was tense. For a moment, he sounds like the boy I fell in love with all those years ago.
I don’t know what happens next. I don’t know if this fragile thing we’re building will survive the harsh light of day, or if it’ll all come crashing down the second we step off the plane back home and reality reasserts itself.
I don’t know if Julian will find the courage to live his truth, or if fear will win again.
Right now, wrapped around each other in the soft glow of Paris, I repeat my mantra: this is enough. If loving him quietly for now is the price of keeping him, I’ll pay it gladly.