Under Control.

chapter sixty two.

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Nora doesn't let go of Julian's hand until they're back at his hotel room. But as they near the door that's his, Julian falters, and immediately Nora understands why. Because, of course she does. And so she takes a deep breath — another, again, more — and then she slips the key from his hand and disappears behind the almost-shut door for the briefest of eternities.

She picks up and flushes, throws out and tidies up. She searches and scans, straightens, and then she gives herself the barest of moments to try and steady her frayed nerves once more. Nora doesn't like being here, in this room. But she is, and she will be, because it's for him.

'Come on,' she says quietly, through the crack in the door. And the part that goes unsaid is the 'All clear', which is what they both know she really means.

Julian wanders in tentatively, his long legs taking small steps. He wants to run away but at the same time, he wants to disappear into her — into Nora — just to see if he can remember how it feels to be himself, again.

Or, the version of himself he wants to be, anyway.

'Thanks,' he mumbles again the one word that's been basically all he's said other than 'sorry,' since the moment he first saw her. And as he does, his hands judder by his side, his want to reach out and hold her running up against his shame and uncertainty about whether she even wants him, anymore.

Nora wants to lay him on the bed and watch him rest, let him sleep, and be there all the while. She wants to press her ear to his chest so she can hear his heart beating, steady and there, alive. She wants to feel the warmth of his body near to hers and she wants to be anything he needs her to be. But still, she's spooked, and she doesn't know what's right.

'Did you want to take a shower?'

They're standing awkwardly apart and every so often, Nora startles herself with the sound of her own voice.

'Or — I've never really thought of you as a bath guy, but, there is one, so...um... I don't know, Jules. Tell me what you want.'

Julian almost manages a smile at the sight of her thinking before speaking, and rambling on so sweetly. But then he catches a glimpse of the fear lurking in her eyes and he wilts inside.

'Not a bath guy,' is what he manages first, hoping that his voice gives off a hint of the levity he's hoping for. But still, they're both just standing there and waiting, but for what, neither of them quite knows.

'Um,' he runs a hand over his mouth, a nervous habit, and then he forces himself to say the thing he actually wants most of all. 'A hug? I'd like, I mean, you know, you don't hav—' Before he can finish, Nora is already there, her body lined up against his, her little self pressed against his front with her arms wrapped tight around his middle. So Julian rests his heavy head on hers, his chin nestled in the wilds of her hair, and while he does he wonders quietly to himself if she's listening to his heartbeat, with her ear pressed against his chest like it is.

There's a creeping dampness on his shirt, and with it, Julian can't avoid the fact of her tears — not when they're pouring over his skin like they are. And so he tries to say sorry once more, but before he can finish Nora cuts him off again, this time, with her lips pressed to his.

'Stop it,' she whispers. 'You don't need to.' And with that — a barely-there murmur that pours into his mouth — Julian knows that he is loved.

He can't fathom why or decide if he believes he deserves it, but the simple fact of it makes his throat tighten and his eyes sting, anyway. But before he can say or do anything more, and before any tracks have made their way down his own face, Nora speaks again.