Epilogue. Julian
EPILOGUE
JULIAN
Rio’s voice called from the kitchen, disturbing the quiet. “Breakfast tacos in ten. If you’re not awake, you get the burnt ones.”
Maritza rolled off the air mattress with a dramatic flop to the floor. Yadriel sat up from his blanket nest and yawned.
Flaca, wrapped in a blanket like a burrito, groaned, “I like mine burnt, so joke’s on you.”
Luca was already kneeling by the scraggly Christmas tree in the corner, poking at the small pile of presents. “Julian, get up!” he said, practically vibrating. “We said we’d do gifts before breakfast!”
Julian dragged himself upright and squinted blearily. “What time is it?”
“Seven,” Rocky said, emerging from her blanket cocoon with a yawn. “Which is illegal.”
“Coffee,” Omar murmured, already halfway to the kitchen.
Flaca handed around mugs of coffee with theatrical flair. “Drink up. You’re all useless until your brains come online.”
“Is this instant coffee?” Rocky asked, grimacing at her cup.
“Beggars can’t be choosers,” Flaca snapped. “It’s hot, it’s brown, it does the job.”
“Just like me!” Julian announced, grinning sleepily.
Everyone groaned. Rocky booed. Yadriel gave him a pity laugh.
Once they were caffeinated and semifunctional, they gathered around the tiny tree. The presents were a mismatched collection of paper bags, newspaper-wrapped boxes, and aggressively taped gift bundles.
Julian’s heart squeezed watching Luca pick through the pile with reverence. His hands were steady. His smile was real. No shadows behind his eyes.
“Here!” Luca said, handing Julian a box wrapped in a One Piece comic page. “I made this in art class!”
Julian opened it to find a bright green keychain woven from plastic laces, with a little ghost bead in the center. “DUDE. This is so sick!” He immediately clipped it to his keys. “You’re my favorite now,” he told Luca, who beamed up at him. “Sorry, everyone else.”
Rocky tossed a box into Julian’s lap. “Don’t ask where it came from.”
Inside were sneakers—the kind Julian had drooled over in a store window last month.
“No way, no way, no way!” Julian said, jaw dropping. “Rocky, did you—?”
“Shhh,” she said, stuffing a cookie in his mouth.
Flaca passed around small jars of body butter she’d whipped up. “Lavender coconut magic,” she declared. “For soft gays and softer skin.”
“Did you just invent that tagline?” Maritza asked.
Flaca tossed her hair over her shoulder. “I live that tagline.”
Maritza placed a hand on Flaca’s knee, fixing her with a solemn look. “I’m obsessed with you.”
Rio handed out envelopes with handwritten IOUs—for skateboard repairs, rides in the Stingray, and one labeled LUCA: ANY SWEATER, ANYTIME.
Julian gave out a chaotic mix of thrifted finds and hand-drawn cards—including a collection of ridiculous self-care items for Flaca he got at the Dollar Tree: VapoRub, a unicorn sleep mask, a mini fan, fuzzy socks, and a candle labeled REGRET & REVENGE (CINNAMON SCENTED).
“For your healing era,” Julian told her proudly. “Or your villain arc.”
Omar had texted everyone custom Spotify playlists with their names in the titles. Maritza’s was pure chaos and swear words, Rocky’s had three remixes of “Gasolina,” and Luca’s was titled “Soft Boi Star Baby” and kicked off with “Space Song” by Beach House.
They opened everything in a flurry of ribbon and laughter. Maritza got socks with tiny skulls on them and immediately pulled them over her mismatched candy cane ones. Yadriel unwrapped a jar of Mexican hot chocolate mix and held it like it was sacred.
Luca handed Maritza a flat, painted stone. It had a skull doodled on it in shaky Sharpie.
“For your altar,” he said.
Maritza gasped like it was treasure. “Luca. I would die for you.”
And then Yadriel turned to Julian with a long, rectangular box in his hands.
Yadriel smiled shyly and passed it to him. “This is from me and Maritza. Mostly her. But also me.”
“YOU’RE WELCOME,” Maritza called, helping herself to another breakfast taco with one hand and gesturing vaguely with the other.
Inside the box was a dagger. Sleek, beautifully forged, the handle painted the same electric blue as the Stingray. On the flat side of the hilt, a tiny ghost on a skateboard had been etched and painted.
Julian let out a stunned breath. “No way.”
From the kitchen, Rio made a noise—somewhere between a sigh, a scoff, and a plea for divine intervention.
Maritza leaned forward, grinning. “It’s a portaje. A real one. Papí helped me forge it without my mom finding out, and Lita helped me enchant it. Took us all week.
“Yads commissioned it,” she added. “I just made it sexy.”
“It’s strictly for releasing spirits,” Yadriel clarified, possibly for Rio’s sake.
“Try not to stab yourself,” Maritza added.
Julian turned the dagger in his hands, awed. “This is … I don’t even know what to say.”
Yadriel was blushing. “We thought maybe it was time you had one.”
Julian looked at both of them. “It’s perfect.”
He leaned over and hugged Maritza first, then turned and kissed Yadriel, slow and lingering, full of warmth.
Julian grinned into the kiss. “Don’t worry, Rio!” he called without looking. “I promise not to stab anyone unless they really, really deserve it!”
“Mm-hm,” Rio said flatly, sipping his coffee like it was suddenly very necessary.
“Okay,” Julian said, standing. “Now it’s your turn.”
Yadriel blinked. “What?”
Julian grabbed his hoodie and slung his keys on his finger. “I have a gift for you,” he told Yadriel with a grin. “Come on.”
Yadriel blinked, curious. “Now?”
“Now!” Julian confirmed, already halfway to the door.
Rio looked up from the kitchen, narrowed his eyes … then reached into his pocket and held out the keys to the Stingray.
“Here,” he said. “Just don’t wreck it.”
Julian froze. “Wait—are you serious? You’re letting me drive the Stingray?!”
He darted forward to snatch the keys, but Rio jerked them back just out of reach.
“Don’t wreck it,” he repeated. “And NO SPEEDING.”
“I WON’T, I WON’T, I WON’T, I SWEAR,” Julian said, bouncing on his toes like a kid on Christmas—which, technically, he was.
From the couch, Maritza waved them off with her candy cane. “I’m staying here and eating more cookies. Go be disgustingly romantic somewhere else.”
Yadriel laughed, slipping on his jacket. “We won’t be long.”
“Good,” Maritza said. “You’re escorting me home like a gentleman.”
Julian tossed her a salute, then burst out the door, keys in hand, with Yadriel close behind.
The sleek blue car gleamed in the crisp morning light. He opened the driver’s side door and slid in like he was claiming a throne. For a second, he just sat there, gripping the wheel with both hands, eyes wide with glee.
Yadriel climbed into the passenger seat and shut the door, casting him a look somewhere between amused and concerned. “You’re vibrating.”
“Do you feel that?” Julian asked, eyes gleaming. “That’s the sound of every traffic law crying.”
He spotted something tucked into the visor—an old photo of him and Rio as kids with their dad, Ramon. Julian gently pulled it out, his breath catching at the sight of his dad’s wide grin and Rio’s serious expression, his own tiny face sticky with what had probably been ice cream.
Yadriel glanced over and smiled. “I love that picture.”
Julian nodded and grinned. “Me too,” he said, tucking the photo back into place and giving the dashboard an affectionate pat.
He sat back and turned the key, and the engine roared to life—deep, throaty, and alive.
Julian’s grin returned, bright and unstoppable.
“All right, old man,” he muttered, throwing the car into gear. “Let’s hit it.”
Yadriel just shook his head, smiling as they pulled out into the street.
The cemetery was quiet, the morning still wrapped in the hush of holiday calm. The gates creaked gently behind them as Julian parked along the outer wall and climbed out, Yadriel trailing with a curious glance.
“Okay,” Julian said, practically vibrating with excitement. “Close your eyes!”
Yadriel arched a brow. “Seriously?”
Julian grinned. “Yes! Trust me!”
With a soft sigh, Yadriel obliged, letting Julian take his hand. They walked a short way along the outer edge of the cemetery—a tucked-away corner near the toolshed, hidden from the main paths.
Julian had chosen it on purpose. Far enough from view that most people wouldn’t notice, unless they were looking for it. The wall had once been covered in peeling paint and rogue ivy.
Julian let go of Yadriel’s hand. “Okay. Open.”
Yadriel blinked his eyes open, and his breath caught.
Julian gestured grandly. “TA-DA!”
Painted across the concrete was a mural—huge and bold, full of color and metallics.
At its center stood Julian, Yadriel, and Maritza, shoulder to shoulder.
Yadriel held his portaje aloft, golden light radiating from his chest. Maritza stood beside him in her layered skirt, arms crossed and defiant, her rose quartz rosary gleaming around her neck.
Julian was slightly behind them, chin tilted up, a ghost-like shimmer curling around him like smoke.
Surrounding them were glowing candles, stylized marigolds blooming from the cracks in the wall.
A faint silhouette of Purrcaso nestled near the bottom corner.
In the background, a swirl of stars and shadows suggested the veil—the space between life and death—with faint outlines of spirits smiling in the dark.
Near the bottom corner was a small heart and the name YADRIEL written in Julian’s messy tag style.
Yadriel stared, speechless.
“I finished it early this morning,” Julian said, grinning. “You were still drooling on my pillow.”
Yadriel snorted. “I do not drool.”
“There’s photographic evidence,” Julian teased.
Yadriel slowly stepped closer, eyes wide. “This is…”
“I figured,” Julian said quietly, “every time you came out here—to visit your mom, or do graveyard chores, or just take a breath—you’d have something that reminded you of what you’ve done. Who you are.”
Yadriel turned to look at him, voice thick. “Julian…”
Julian smiled, a little shy now. “You’re not alone. You never were and you never will be.”
Yadriel looked back at the mural. He touched the wall lightly, fingertips grazing over the marigolds.
“You even got Maritza’s nose right,” he said fondly.
“I know,” Julian said before sighing dramatically. “She’s gonna think I like her or something.”
Yadriel laughed. Julian pulled him in and kissed him like the morning sun was rising just for them. Julian closed his eyes as he squeezed Yadriel tight, making a wish he didn’t dare say out loud.
When they pulled apart, Yadriel rested his forehead against Julian’s and let out a breath that sounded like relief. “Thank you,” he said. “For seeing me. For giving me this. For, well, everything.”
Julian kissed the corner of his mouth. He almost made a joke, but instead just held his boyfriend tighter. “Always.”
They stood there a little longer, letting the light settle around them.
“Somewhere, Lady Death is probably rolling her eyes at how sentimental we’re getting,” Julian said, smirking.
Yadriel laughed, the sound soft and full of light.
They started walking back to the Stingray, the mural still visible behind them. Yadriel glanced at Julian, a mischievous glint in his eye. “You did get permission from my dad to paint that, right?”
Julian froze for a split second before shrugging. “Hmm … didn’t think about that.”
Yadriel groaned, but he was laughing as he shoved Julian lightly. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Yeah, but you love me,” Julian said, grinning as they reached the warmth and noise of the house.
“I really do,” Yadriel said, his smile soft and genuine.
“Yo también te amo,” Julian told him before stealing a kiss.