Chapter Six. Julian #2
“Relatable,” Flaca said in an annoyed tone, rolling her eyes. Rocky and Luca nodded in agreement. Omar only crossed his arms and sank deeper into the couch.
The crew got it. They had all found their way to this apartment for a reason. And they knew what it meant to wait for trust to grow before asking for more.
Every one of them had their own scars—literal or not. Flaca’s family was transphobic trash, Rocky technically lived in a group home even though she spent nearly all her time here, Omar’s parents had been deported back to Honduras, and Luca’s parents were abusive pieces of shit.
They knew what it meant to have complicated families, to carry things too heavy to say out loud. If there was one thing they respected, it was someone not being ready to talk.
Julian didn’t need to defend Angel. His friends were already giving them the space they needed.
Still, he caught Angel’s flicker of relief when the questions stopped, and something in his chest eased, too.
Angel was way better at covering their brujx secret than Julian was.
In fact, everyone seemed better at it than him, but he guessed that was just another thing he needed to get used to, no matter how much it sucked.
Flaca hopped down from the chair with a small box of glittery stars. “Wanna help us out?” she asked brightly. No interrogation, just space, offered like a second plate of food.
Angel hesitated, then took the box. “Sure.”
From there, the room picked up momentum.
Flaca draped another string of LEDs along the wall, crowing about her dollar-store haul.
Rocky attacked the windows with Santa hats and snowflakes, like a mural project.
Omar grumbled about “shitty new ornaments,” even as he strung emerald and ruby globes with surprising care.
Luca fluttered between them all, sleeves swallowing his hands, steadying wobbly thumbtacks.
“I fixed the lights,” Rio said. The three-foot fake tree twinkled by the window. Its plastic branches were crooked and losing needles, a testament to years of love and limited storage space.
Julian dug into the special ornament tub, lifting each piece with reverence. A chipped ceramic taco Rocky had made. Luca’s glitter ball of folded wishes. Flaca’s thrift-store “skateboarding hot dog” she insisted was Julian-coded.
“Best part’s still to come!” Julian declared. With a dramatic flourish, he crowned their crooked plastic tree with the sparkly star topper. It tilted immediately. “Voilà! The grand final!”
Luca, Rocky, and Flaca laughed while Omar shook his head in the specific endearing way he saved only for Julian. Angel let out a quiet chuckle, a small crack in their guard.
“Thanks for waiting,” Julian said, softer now.
Rocky flashed him a grin of forgiveness. “We figured you’d show up eventually. You always do.”
For a heartbeat, he let it all wash over him—laughter, lights, closeness. A pulse of normal. The warmth in the room wrapped around him like a blanket, muffling the noise in his head. For the first time in a while, he wasn’t catching up or falling behind. He just was.
Angel shifted beside him, less coiled now, as if they’d finally found a chair with a backrest.
It stirred something protective in Julian. Angel had been sharper at Yadriel’s, walls stacked high in that tidy house full of rules and watching eyes. Here, complicated was normal. Heavy things could stay unsaid.
And for Angel, that difference seemed to matter.
Rio emerged from the kitchen carrying a Pyrex dish, chocolate cake still warm, Christmas sprinkles melted into a messy rainbow on top.
“Aw, hell yeah!” Julian cheered as he bounced across the room to Rio. Chocolate cake from the box was his forever favorite—his dad used to make it for him and Rio, and Rio had kept the tradition alive.
“I haven’t had cake in ages,” Angel admitted, a hint of longing in their voice as they stared at it.
“Then prepare yourself,” Omar said solemnly. “This is cake the way God intended—full of preservatives.”
“I’ve literally cried over this cake,” Luca added, deadpan. “In a good way.”
“It’s gourmet if you squint hard enough,” Rocky agreed, shoveling a forkful.
“Or starving enough,” Flaca added.
Julian handed Angel a plate, grinning. “See? Best sales pitch ever!”
For a while, the apartment was only forks clinking and laughter, frosting smeared across plates.
Then Rocky licked icing off her thumb. “We should do something special for Christmas.”
“Tamales!” Flaca said immediately.
“Posadas!” Rocky countered.
“Both!” Julian declared.
Rio wiped his hands on a kitchen towel and called out, “I can make natilla again, but last time it came out like sweet concrete.”
Julian snorted. “It tasted fine! Dad used to burn it every year anyway. It’s tradition.”
He scratched the back of his neck, thoughts drifting to Yadriel. “Also … I gotta figure out what to get Yadriel for Christmas without selling a kidney.”
Ideas flew—
“Something from the heart,” Luca said earnestly.
“Something practical, like a hoodie,” Omar offered.
“Skin care,” Flaca pitched. “What’s his skin type?”
“Handsome,” Julian replied.
The room collapsed into groans and laughter. Even Angel smiled around a forkful of cake. Conversation drifted into comfortable quiet, forks clinking against plates.
Angel leaned toward him, voice low. “Hey, Julian.”
“What’s up?” he asked, still grinning.
They nodded toward the faint curve near his ear. “How’d you get that scar?”
Julian’s grin faltered. His fingers brushed the mark. “This old thing? Elephant seal in Malibu. It tried to steal my Takis. All teeth and fury, but I scared it back into the ocean.”
Angel snorted, arching an eyebrow. “You’re full of it.”
“Julian, the elephant seal slayer,” Luca mumbled, a ghost of a laugh in his voice.
“Yep, that’s me.” Julian chuckled along even as a pang of unease settled in his chest. By the look on Angel’s face, they obviously didn’t buy it, but they also didn’t question him.
By the time the plates were scraped clean, chatter had spun off into stories. Luca sat cross-legged on the floor, sleeves pooled around his hands, recounting his latest school drama with dramatic gestures.
“She swore I never turned it in,” he said. “But I had receipts! Screenshots! I had a whole PowerPoint ready!”
Angel leaned forward, golden eyes glinting with amusement. “Seriously?”
“Dead serious,” Luca said with a solemn nod. “If I go down, I go down petty.”
Julian barked a laugh. “Facing down your teacher after she lost your assignment? That’s gutsy!”
Angel joined in, warm in a way Julian hadn’t seen before. “That’s more than gutsy,” they said to Luca. “That’s impressive.”
Color rushed to Luca’s cheeks. He shrugged, mumbling, “It was nothing.”
“Nothing?” Julian nudged Angel with his elbow. “He’s a menace in disguise. Like a quiet storm—if the storm also apologized afterward and brought snacks.”
Angel chuckled, and Luca ducked his head, pink-eared, pretending to fuss with his plate. The little spark between them lit Julian’s chest with hope. If anyone deserved something good, it was Luca.
Then Julian’s attention snagged on something that didn’t belong.
A blotch marred the front of Luca’s sweater, just below his collar. At first he thought it was chocolate frosting, or maybe a stain he hadn’t noticed, but the edges were too sharp. Too dark.
“Luca, you spill something?” Julian asked, trying to sound casual.
“Probably frosting,” Omar said, licking some off his thumb. “Or glitter from Flaca’s obnoxious sweater.”
“Obnoxious glitter?!” Flaca gasped, mock offended. “That’s holiday shimmer, thank you very much!”
Julian forced a laugh, but the stain wasn’t frosting. It pulsed, like ink bleeding through cloth. Whispers seemed to slither at the edge of his hearing—not sound exactly, but static.
He blinked, and the blotch seemed bigger. The whispers pressed closer. A hum in his bones, like thunder simmering beneath the floorboards. Julian’s breaths turned sharp and shallow.
“Julian?” Luca’s voice was small, far away. “You look spooked.”
Julian tried to respond, but his thoughts were slipping, too fast to catch. His hands curled into fists against his thighs, nails digging deep. The air around him felt wrong. Off. Charged.
The dark stain spread. Fear clawed up his throat.
“Julian, dude, you’re freaking me out,” Luca said with a nervous laugh.
“Sorry,” Julian croaked, scrambling for something that wasn’t the truth. “Just … déjà vu or something.”
His chest buzzed, like something clawing to get out.
Rocky’s voice cut in with some loud retelling of her battle with window clings, laughter rising around the table.
And then—Angel was beside him.
They leaned in close.
“Don’t worry,” Angel whispered, their breath brushing his ear. “I can see it, too.”