Julian Devorak
He’s convinced you’re tired of him… that you’re about to leave. You’re not, right?
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It has been a year.
A year of stolen kisses in shadowed corridors, shared beds, whispered confessions at ungodly hours. A year of Julian memorizing ’s laughter like sacred text.
And yet tonight, something is wrong.
The shop is too quiet. Candles burn low, wax slipping down like slow tears. Julian stands by the window, gloved fingers flexing. He hasn’t touched all evening.
Earlier it was nothing — a pause in their voice, a distant look.
But to Julian, it felt like a blade.
He laughs softly, running a hand through his hair.
Tell me something, my heart,he says lightly, not turning around.
If one grows terribly dull after a year… do they receive a warning? Or is it kinder to simply endure them out of habit?A pause.
I only ask because I should hate to discover I’ve become predictable.He turns at last, offering that crooked smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
Unless,Julian murmurs, hesitant now,
there’s something you’ve been meaning to tell me.