Chapter 24: What Love Feels Like
The hallway was quiet as Elliot stepped out of the elevator.
He looked tired — his shoulders tense, shirt rumpled from the weight of the day. The firm had been chaotic, demanding, loud. But through every meeting and phone call, all Elliot had thought about was getting back to Julian.
He slid the key into the lock and opened the door.
What met him wasn't the usual dim quiet.
It was warmth.
Soft jazz played in the background — Miles Davis, if he wasn't mistaken. The apartment smelled of cedar and fresh linen. The lights were low, golden, calming. There were flowers on the counter. Everything looked… peaceful.
Then his eyes landed on the bedroom.
And his breath caught.
The bed was made in crisp, dark navy sheets. A small note was propped up on his pillow next to his cologne — the one Julian used to steal spritzes of when he thought Elliot wasn't looking.
Elliot walked slowly, feeling the edge of something emotional tug at him.
He picked up the note.
> "For everything you've given me while I've healed — here's a piece of peace waiting for you at home."
His fingers tightened slightly.
And just like that…
The tears came.
They weren't loud. They weren't messy. They were quiet, like the night. Soft sobs from a man who had held it all together for too long. Elliot sat on the edge of the bed and let himself cry into his hands.
He didn't even hear Julian come out of the bathroom.
But Julian saw it — the way Elliot's shoulders trembled, the way his hands covered his face, the note still crumpled between his fingers.
He crossed the room without a word.
Kneeling in front of Elliot, Julian gently pried his hands away.
"I'm here," he said softly.
Elliot looked down at him, eyes red and wet. "I didn't know I needed this."
Julian kissed his palms. "You gave me everything when I was broken. You carried me when I couldn't move. You never once made me feel like a burden."
He pressed a kiss to Elliot's temple. "Now let me carry you for a little."
Elliot gave a watery laugh. "I didn't know how much I was holding in."
Julian crawled up beside him on the bed, pulling him back against the pillows, curling close. "That's the thing about anchors… even they need somewhere to rest."
They lay together in the low light. Elliot breathing deeply now. Julian's hands threading through his hair. Neither said anything for a long while.
And it was okay.
Because this — this safety, this stillness, this exchange of care — was love.
Not the fiery, messy kind. Not the kind that demanded anything.
The kind that just was.