Under Control.

chapter fifty six.

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One day, Albert wakes to the sound of Nora. It's a Wednesday afternoon and he's only half in his own body, but still, he's sure of it.

So he stumbles unceremoniously up the stairs, barely put together and with only one eye open, and for a brief moment, he's sure that he's hallucinating. Either that, or he went so hard last night that he's managed to time travel, somehow. Because, the scene that awaits him in Julian's apartment, is this —

For one, it's clean. There's a throw blanket on the couch, and someone has vacuumed (how did he not hear a vacuum?). There is fruit in a carefully rolled down paper bag on the kitchen bench, and coats on hooks and not on the floor. There's three plants, none of them dead, and art that's hung and just not sitting sadly against the wall. There are books everywhere, and a laptop set up under a window surrounded by handwritten notes, a guitar slung on the couch with sheets and sheets of lyrics strewn around it, and flowers in a vase on the table with placemats stacked neatly beside. There's a frying pan, clean, on the stove (also clean) and the hint of food about. The bed is made, he can see through the opened bedroom door, and instead of the mattress being laid bare on the ground, it's on a bed frame — Nora's bed frame.

And, speaking of Nora — she's perched on a stool by the kitchen bench with her feet cradled in Julian's lap, who is sat beside her. And they're both smiling, and waiting.

They're both worried, but amused.

They're together, in all of it.

And, she's here.

'How long have I been out, for?' Albert staggers onwards into the kitchen and steals an apple from the bag on the bench.

'Was Ryan here, last night?' Julian doesn't answer the question head-on, instead he asks another in a way that simmers with venom to hide his concern. They both already know the answer to his particular accusation though, and even though Nora doesn't know exactly what it all means, she's already put two and two together, more or less. And so they all move past it, just for the moment, with Albert left to try again before taking another mouthful of his apple.

'Do you, like...did you ask her to...?'

'Marry me?' Julian chides, with a shit-eating grin, eyeing Albert — who almost chokes on his apple — and then Nora — who sputters around her sip of coffee, but who doesn't flinch against his gentle, loving hold — before finally setting them all straight. 'Nah, not yet. She does live here now, though. So, you know, you'd better start behaving yourself. Hearing like a bat, remember?'

Albert is stunned, just for a second, his brain not awake enough yet for all of this.

'Like, when? Congratulations, and, uh, Welcome? But, how the fuck did I not notice?' Al sags against the fridge, wracking his brain and crumpling two bills and a love note that are stuck on the door behind him.

'That's a good question, Albert.' Julian stabs at the lunch on his plate before casting his gaze over to Nora in hopes of steadying himself. 'It's been a few days,' and he relents, at the look on her face — worried, and a little scared — and gives in to the rhythm of what could be familiarity. 'Like a week, right?'

Nora nods, and gives a tense little smile. She's aware of what this looks like — it looks like they've moved very, very fast. And here, now, with Al, is the first time she's had to face that fact head on, through the judgmental gaze of someone else.

Except, Albert doesn't look judgmental, really. Mostly, he looks dazed, and quietly happy.

'You finally fuckin' did it, huh? Finally got your shit together?' Al tosses his apple in the bin (there's a bin — one with a liner, and a lid, that's not just a makeshift container full of crap), then he slaps Julian on the shoulder before pressing a quick kiss to Nora's temple.