Under Control.

chapter fifty four.

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There's a moment, tangled together on the cold hard floor, when the rest of the world falls away.

For a spell, it's just the two of them — Julian, and Nora — and a flurry of messy, gasping kisses, roaming hands, clutching and desperate, and the familiar thrum of their bodies, together.

Eventually, the floor gives way to Nora's bed, the stumbling mass of them fumbling through the empty darkness of her apartment until tired bodies meet softness. And then they lay there together through what's left of the velvety night, wondering and tethered, and waiting for the lavender hint of morning.

Julian wants to disappear into this, with her. He wants to remind her of just how much he is capable of loving her, and in so many ways. He wants to leave nothing left unsaid or undone. He is greedy when it comes to her, and he knows that, and she does too. But, Nora is a good person.

Or, a better person than Julian thinks he is, anyway.

Because the problem with forsaking the world and with how easy a thing that is to do when what's there to gain is this — is Nora, supple and sleepy, and gathered in the circle of his arms, with her wild hair, citrus and smoke, her warm skin and her all-seeing eyes and her pink lips — Julian can barely bring himself to care about the collateral. But, despite himself, he knows that there is someone out there who thinks that he is hers. And he knows too that Nora cares for the man he'd seen her with that night, weeks ago — the one the mere sight of whom had made him wilt inside, and spiral.

And so when she whispers to him across pillow and sheet, between kisses, 'We can't,' Julian settles for just holding her, and waiting for the sun to rise.

Because when it finally does, he knows, they'll get to starting over and trying again. And he knows that because she tells him so, and because he tells it to her right back.

He promises to be better, to try harder, and be more, and then he makes a dozen more declarations between, and after each one he tells her again that he's sorry, for all of it and then some.

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There's a heaviness to waking up in Julian's arms that Nora's can't deny — it's the feeling of relief, but of confusion, too. And it comes from knowing that they had only resolved so much between each other last night, and that they still had a ways left to go, yet.

For Nora, there is the acknowledgement that uptown waits another man — the one with whom she had started her evening last night, but a different one than with whom she had ended it. And she owes him kindness, if nothing else, in return for his.

'He's a good man,' she says, more aloud as a reminder to herself than anything. But it sounds loud in the quiet room against the steady beat of Julian beside her, and the fragile semblance of peace that they had tugged around each other last night like a blanket.

It's early, still. The light is hazy and the city outside is muffled by the morning. Julian is next to her, all around her, his long arms coiled around her middle, his fingertips dancing along the soft plains of what bare, warm skin of hers he can find. And he's watching her and listening, and there's a question in his eyes that Nora can make out clear as day, beyond it all.

What does that make me?

He's asking silently ,and it's plain in his wide hazel eyes, sleepy and filled with wondering. It's a question that lives in the pensive frown tugging at his puffy lips, and the skipping of his heart under the palm of her hand.

'You're a good man. I...' There's an 'I love you,' there that goes unsaid, but still, Julian can see it, and he knows.

'It's okay,' he murmurs and shakes his head, the tickle of his hair brushing across Nora's forehead as he claims her lips again, letting her know that she doesn't have to explain.

Julian wants to start things off right, this time. So, he should be good, too — he wants to be, needs to be, better.

And so he decides to follow Nora's lead this time, and to try.

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Ash sees the wildness simmering behind Nora's eyes as soon as he opens the door to her. And it's then that he knows.

It's not an untamed wildness — it's liveliness, and fire. A rare version of Nora that she mostly keeps hidden, and one he's only ever seen twice before.

The first time was on the night he had met Julian and witnessed for himself just how he and Nora could be, together. And then he'd seen it again last night, before she'd left to go and try and be his friend.

There is a part of Ash that has always understood that the impression of herself that Nora has chosen to share with him was only a vague incarnation of who she wanted to be. He knew that it wasn't wholly honest, or even totally reflective of who she was at this moment in time. And he'd been content to stand beside her while she tried it on for size because despite everything, Ash also believed that she'd get there eventually, to the truth at the centre of herself. But for now, who she was remained tethered to the life that she'd made for herself in the city, and to all of the people she knew and loved who made up who she was here and now.

And so, Ash makes tea.

He makes tea and he makes nice and he lets their conversation be as painless as one like it can be, and then he hugs her when she leaves, and still, he puts in a good word for her when the chance arises, later.

To who it matters, he tells of Nora's tenacity and her unique caring. He confirms that she stands for things and means it when she does, and he helps to prove how hard working and determined she is and what an asset he believes she could be. And so it is because of him, in part, that Nora will land on her feet again. And she will thank him for it one day, but that will all come later.

After the tea has settled, and the storm has calmed, it will come.

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Julian comes home damp, and Albert wants to know why. But, also, he already does.

So instead of asking, he just stands in the kitchen and holds up a mug in one hand and a beer in the other, and then waits for Julian to make his choice.

(Beer.)

'Rum and coke?' Al says, after a while. After they've both sat down at the table and he's had more time to take in his friends sticky overall appearance.

Julian's hair is matted and slick, and his shirt is half-stuck to his chest where the tacky residue covering it has started to dry. There's a shadow of a mark, and it could have been coffee, except he smells sweet and there's a hint of regret hanging in the air that the stale scent of rum can't help but invoke.

'Yeah,' But, Julian doesn't seem to have absorbed any of the rue wafting off his person. To Albert he looks oddly calm, and surprisingly unperturbed for someone who's basically just been turned into a walking fly-trap.

'How's our girl?' Al takes a breath, then a drink, and they both know that he's not going to say more than that. Because, everyone was fucked up lately but they all still love each other, and the best any of them can hope for right now, is just that — is love, and patience, and for each and every one of them to be, someday and somehow, okay.

Julian nods and then he smiles, just barely, and it's then that Albert can see the love he has for Nora written all over his sticky face. It's a love he's always known was there — a love he knew was inevitable, even before either of the two of them had wanted to admit to it. And so he's glad to see it, finally and again, even if he's not sure how it all might end. Because at the end of the day, Albert thinks, maybe the best you can hope for is that you will be loved, and that you will love in return.

Al loves Julian, and he knows Jules loves him back. And he loves Nora too, and she loves him. And he's sure that Julian and Nora love each other. And so even if it doesn't last forever, at least they'll have that much to say for themselves — that they loved, and were loved back.

And so be it between them for always or maybe just for right now, a little love was something that they all needed.

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