glowing. || julian devorak

part nine.

"Weird," Muriel said stiffly, planting his feet firmly onto the cobblestones in front of the tilted house. "This is very weird and I hate you."

"Nah, you don't," Asra replied, breaths shortening from the effort of pushing at his best friend's back. "You agreed to this. Go knock."

Muriel stayed put. "I agreed to come with you. It's weird. I don't want to." Asra's efforts to move him were easily ignored.

"You've talked to him lots of times. Just go knock, it's not that weird."

Muriel's hands were stuffed deep in his pockets, his solid form casting a large shadow in the late morning sun. "Not without you there. Or James. Or at least Nadia. No. I don't even like the guy."

"Hey." Asra gave up his attempt to forcibly move Muriel and rounded to stand in front of him. "Ilya's great."

Muriel took three long steps backward. "Then you should go talk to him. I'll wait out here."

Asra turned to look at the front door. He hadn't been to Julian's house since the doctor had moved in the year before, and an odd feeling fluttering in his abdomen. He turned back to where Muriel had stood, lips parted to speak, and—

Nothing. The road was empty, and Muriel was long gone.

"Damn," Asra murmured, casting glances up and down the street. "He's too good at that."

The magician steeled his resolve. It was just a conversation, like they'd had a million times before. Staying cool under pressure was Asra's speciality. He was fine, this was fine, everything was going to turn out fine.

He took one last deep breath, and knocked.

—

"Ilya!"

Julian shot up, knobby knees knocking against his desk as he stood. The voice — clear, bright, and impressively loud — carried from the front door all the way to Julian's room, accompanied by a rattling knock. He rushed to his bedroom door, about to call back when he shuddered to a stop.

Did he really want to talk to Asra?

The answer was yes, of course. The answer was always yes. Even when he was being lectured or interrogated, Julian would never pass up a chance to talk to him

But he knew what Asra must have come to talk about. He'd been anticipating it for days, since he'd fled from James after dinner at the shop. Surprisingly, given his masochistic tendencies, he didn't quite look forward to having to face her fiancé after all that.

"Ilya!"

The voice called again, and the creaky front door let Julian know that Asra had entered. Julian caught sight of a stray violet petal on the floor beside his bed. He must have missed it when he'd swept away all signs of his ailment. The lonely petal made him nauseous just to look at, and he kicked it out of sight.

"ILYA!"

Julian jolted yet again, taken aback by the shout coming from right outside his bedroom. He watched, frozen, as the door swung open, revealing Asra's smiling face.

"Hiya."

The magician looked content, cheeks flushed from the cool air. As fall turned to winter, Asra had begun dressing for the colder months, plunging tunic exchanged for a soft-looking sweater underneath his usual scarf. The sweater was a deep red — Julian's favorite color, unfortunately — and his heart clenched when he saw the small cursive "J" stitched into the sleeve. Faust, Julian suspected, was curled up in the leather bag that hung on Asra's shoulder, keeping warm.