𝐊𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐚 ➸ 𝐅.𝐇

𝟎𝟗. 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞.

"Only this time is not that time, but that time is technically this time, and time is really only ever one time."

[KALOSPIA]

—"FAMILY'S NOT who you're born with"
"It's who you'd die for."

— JULIEN WOKE UP IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT WITH A GROAN, his body sore from head to toe. The worst part wasn't the ache radiating from his bruised ribs, or even the stinging cut across his nose, but the side of his face that had taken the brunt of the Swede's punch less than two hours ago. Without thinking, he rolled over onto it and winced.

"Merda," he cursed, dragging himself into a sitting position. He caught his reflection in the mirror; it would take longer for him to heal—far longer than it should. But that was the unfortunate reality of being already dead.

Julien ran a hand down his face, the familiar sensation of cold, clammy skin beneath the illusion he projected. His body—what was left of it—was barely holding together. No one could see the corpse beneath the surface, but the damage was piling up regardless.

He dragged himself out of bed, sore muscles protesting with every step. The bruises would stay for a while along with the pain—longer than they would if he were actually alive. Healing came slower when your body wasn't technically living, and maintaining the illusion took effort, energy he couldn't afford to lose.

He barely noticed when Donna passed him in the hallway and froze, her eyes lingering too long on his face. She sipped her coffee and frowned. "You look... rough," she said finally, unable to ignore the bruising. "The hell happened to you?"

"I'm fine," Julien muttered, brushing past her and grabbing his jacket. "I'm going for a walk."

Donna wasn't convinced. "Julien—"

"I'm fine," he repeated, trying to infuse more patience into his tone. He forced a tight smile, raising his hand to pick out a piece of fluff from her hair. "You shouldn't be drinking coffee this late, you know."