Under Control.

chapter thirty.

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Albert sleeps like the dead. As in, literally.

He lies completely still on his back with his hands folded over his stomach, and that's a fact Nora is reminded of about her friend after having spent the night trying — and mostly failing — to sleep beside him in her bed.

After he and Nora had reemerged from the bathroom last night, Albert had announced his decision to stay. Or, rather, to not try and haul Julian's sorry ass across town in the middle of the night.

Julian had realised right away that Nora had been crying while the pair of them had been out of his sight, and so he didn't even need to see the daggers that Albert shot his way to agree to whatever, so long as it meant that his existence was slightly less of an inconvenience to Nora. Although, he wasn't entirely sure that she was thrilled by the idea of reliving their ass-backwards sleepover from all those months ago — the one that had set the pair of them down this road in the first place — any more than he was.

But, in the end she didn't argue. And so, neither did he.

She'd murmured a soft little, 'Goodnight,' to him on her way to bed last night, and Julian had tried to offer a smile in return. He was pretty sure all he'd managed to do was to look up at her with a startled and heartbroken grimace, but with it, a look he couldn't place had slipped over Nora's own face for the briefest moment afterwards. Julian didn't know what it meant — he hadn't seen the shape it on her, before. And so, he'd spent the rest of his night lying mostly awake on the sofa and trying to figure it — and her, and everything — out.

He'd run through the catalogue of All Things Nora that he kept cradled in his chaotic mind — the one he carried around with him always, despite himself. But when he hadn't been able to decipher the puzzle of her face, Julian had moved on to reliving everything else and his litany of fuck ups too, succeeding only to make himself unrelentingly miserable. And he was still busy self flagellating in the dim and broken light of almost-morning when had Nora crept out from her room, clad in her clothes from last night, and with the same look he'd been torturing himself over still firmly in place on her pretty, tired face.

'You want coffee?' She whispered out of nowhere, appearing beside him and making him jump, then wince. 'Sorry,'

'Uh, yeah,' Julian struggled to sit somewhat upright, the icepack she'd given him last night slipping off his knee, forgotten, onto floor by her feet. 'Only if you're, you know, making some.'

Nora nodded, then picked up the icepack and crept away from him again, disappearing into the kitchen for the briefest of eternities before finally returning with two mugs, a refilled pack for his leg, and a bottle of ibuprofen.

'Is it really bothering you? You look a little green.'

She passed him the pills and set his mug on the coffee table, then eyed his tattered jeans like she was trying to see if there was anything obviously the matter. But the matter was mostly internal for Julian at this point, a heady combination of regret, hangover, jet-lag, and stubbornness.

'Ah, nah. It's fine. It's...well, it's fucked. But that's not really it, you know?'

Julian took a gulping sip of his coffee, and then tried to be brave. But, as ever, Nora knew him. Better than he realised, and maybe even more so than he knew himself.

'You're drying out?'

She didn't look at him when she asked — she already knew the answer. But still, there wasn't any judgement on her face when she did eventually glance back over at him.

So Julian shrugged, and tried not to shrink under Nora's steady gaze. 'Little jet-lagged, too.'

Nora was sat in the chair opposite him, the one she'd collapsed into yesterday after she'd first gotten him through the door. She looked sleepy and sad and beautiful, and Julian missed her, even though she was just there. And so, that's how he knew.

Julian realised then that he owed her so much more than he could possibly give to her. He owed her bravery, and apologies, and he owed it to her to be honest.

'She used to work with Sam. Well, kind of. We've known each other since we were really young — we dated before. She knows me, knows what I'm like. Knows what she's getting.' Julian had no real idea about where he was going with any of this, but he wanted to try to explain himself, to give her something true.

'No pressure.' Nora was cool, and calm, and altogether too kind.

'Yeah. No pressure, I guess.' Julian didn't want Nora thinking that being with her wasn't something that he'd wanted. He just needed her to agree with him that he was a coward. 'It wasn't you, Nora. It was all me. I fucked it up. And I wanted to come here — or, I wanted to see you — because I can't really imagine not having you around. And that's selfish, I know that. But that was why I went to the apartment. I wanted to say sorry, and I wanted to see you. Just to see you. I didn't mean for anything else to happen.'

Nora was quiet, her gaze dancing around the brightening room for a spell before landing tentatively back on Julian. 'It was just too much pressure, then. With me?'

'What? No. No — okay? That wasn't it. I like that, Nora. I fucking love that with you. You make me want to be...the problem is just that I don't think I can be who you need me to be. What you deserve.' Julian felt like he was running down the clock — Albert was surely going to appear out of the bedroom any second, now. But still, he needed Nora to hear him out, and to understand.

'Jules,' Nora set her mug on the table next to his and leant forward, the shift of her body towards his catching Julian's breath, and cleaving at his heart. 'I didn't want anything more than just you. I know you, and I wanted you — not some new and improved version of you. Just you.'

There was an ill-timed, Albert-shaped thud then, and a stunned tide in Julian's eyes.

'I hope you're happy with her. I really do.' It was Nora's turn to waiver now, her voice a rasping whisper. 'I've missed you — I do miss you. I like having you around. Everything makes a little bit more sense, even if it still stings a bit.'

Julian felt like he'd just been socked in the gut. He didn't know what to say or do, and so instead, he just sat stunned and watched as Nora quickly tried to dry her eyes before Albert tumbled his way out into the middle of this, and them, and the room.

'Here,' she said finally, passing him a neat little folded up bundle of something brown before picking up his empty mug and hers and leaving him to take off towards the kitchen, before Al could catch sight of the salty tracks staining her cheeks.

And Albert did appear then, right on time, squinting against the morning light with his hair a wild mess and his face puffy from sleep. 'You gotta get some curtains, man. Fuckin' bright in here.'

Nora passed Al a fresh mug of his own and then darted out the little window off the kitchen to smoke, and hide, and wait for the two of them to leave.

It was his scarf, the bundle. The one Julian had given her — the one she'd stolen all those months ago.

It was hers, now. It smelled like her. And when Julian looked at it, all he saw was Nora, wrapped up in it and smiling, and loving him.

All he saw was her, and everything he'd lost.

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As is now customary — thanks again to anyone who has read, messaged, voted, kudos-ed, or commented. I guarantee you it makes my day, every time.

Just to say, too, that I have been slowly going back through and tidying up some of the earlier chapters. (And will be still, for a little while yet.) Nothing major has changed — it's mostly just spelling/grammar/tense/punctuation bits. But, all in all, I've probably added a few of thousand words overall so far. You're not missing out on anything major by not going back (I promise), but, now you know. xx

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