Chapter 7: The Fall
It was 2:13 a.m. when Elliot woke up in his apartment, the room still humming with Julian's presence.
The sheets were warm.
The cologne still lingered in the air.
Julian was gone.
Again.
It had become a pattern—nights tangled in sweat and gasps, mornings spent pretending none of it mattered. Julian always left before dawn, always with a joke, a smirk, a reminder that this was still a game.
But Elliot wasn't playing anymore.
He sat up, ran a hand through his hair, stared at the half-drunk glass of whiskey on the nightstand.
He'd let people go before—lovers, flings, friends.
But Julian wasn't leaving.
Not from his thoughts.
Not from the place he'd carved into Elliot's chest like a blade.
---
The next week, Elliot watched Julian in meetings and felt his throat tighten. It wasn't just want anymore. It was need. It was the sound of Julian laughing with someone else and Elliot's stomach curling. It was remembering how Julian looked when he came apart in his arms and wondering if he'd ever meant it.
He started checking his phone obsessively.
One unread text.
Nothing from Julian.
Silence.
That night, Elliot showed up at Julian's apartment without warning.
Julian opened the door in a T-shirt, eyes wide. "What the hell—?"
Elliot didn't wait.
He kissed him. Hard. Raw. Like something inside him had finally cracked.
Julian pulled away. "Elliot—wait—what are you doing?"
Elliot's voice was shaking. "I can't stop thinking about you."
Julian blinked, stunned.
"I know we said this wasn't love," Elliot went on, voice low, ragged. "But I think I passed that point weeks ago."
Julian stood frozen, lips parted, his hand still resting on Elliot's chest where he'd tried to push him back.
"I watch you, every day. I track your moods. I know when you're pretending, and I know when you're hurting. I know your tells in court. I know how you like your coffee. And I know I'm not okay with you being with anyone else."
A long silence.
Julian swallowed hard. "You're not supposed to love me."
"I do."
Julian's voice dropped to a whisper. "Say it again."
"I love you."
Julian stepped closer, something in him crumbling. His walls—slick, sarcastic, charming—shattered in one breath.
"I didn't think you were capable of that," Julian said. "Not with someone like me."
Elliot touched his face, gentler now. "I wasn't. Until you."
Julian surged forward and kissed him like he was drowning. Like he'd been holding his breath for months. It wasn't about lust this time. It was surrender.
They didn't make it to the bed. Clothes peeled away in the hallway, fingers trembling. Their bodies moved slowly this time—not to possess, not to prove—but to feel.
Julian clung to him. Whispered his name. Let his head fall against Elliot's chest like he'd finally come home.
Afterward, wrapped in the sheets they'd once only used for pretending, Julian lay beside him, silent.
Elliot looked at him. "Say it."
Julian exhaled. " I love you too "