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 Posted: Thu Sep 10, 2026 9:14 am
Backdated to March 29 Julian didn't usually do any major reorganization or cleaning of the bedroom while Riker was around, mostly because there wasn't really a way to do it without getting in the way or being disruptive. In the past few weeks, he'd made a mess of the closet several times over, but Riker always seemed sensitive when he saw Julian working on too much at once.
So Julian just tried to do it while he wasn't around.
He'd gone out this morning, partly because he and Elliot had plans, and partly because Evan needed a few things from the store, so it seemed like the perfect time to get things done.
Julian had spent a lot of time in bed lately, and was self conscious about mucking it up for Riker, so today was a good day to do laundry. Talia made sure they had a surplus of bedding, so he'd already changed the sheets and laid out a fresh comforter, and the pillows all had fresh cases.
He'd vacuumed. Cleaned the minifridge, the windows, the light switches.
The closet was where the real work was, so he was back to sorting through things. The lights were on in the bedroom and closet, and the television was on to a documentary about the candy making process. Julian wasn't watching it, but it was good company. The low volume was enough to chase away most of his thoughts, but not so loud that it startled him. The closet door was three quarters of the way closed, cracked enough that he could see the door. Maxim had come to visit him a few times already, and was currently snoring on the bed.
Over the last few days, many of his things from the bedroom had disappeared, packed away into boxes and put in the closet.
His desk was completely organized--sterile. The little things he'd collected to decorate it were put away, and anything he wouldn't use for school had disappeared.
He'd notated what was in the boxes, in very small, neat handwriting, and then he'd pushed them to the back of the closet. Now that he was actually organizing them, and not just throwing things in boxes and hiding them.
Some of the larger boxes--there before he started reorganizing his things--made for a good counter to work on.
He'd just found the headphones he'd misplaced, in a box with a pack of gum, some hand sanitizer, and a calculator--and a stack of papers, some crumbled, that he was now going through to figure out what could be tossed and what needed to be kept. Since he found the gum, he let himself have a piece, and despite chewing, he could still hear Riker's footsteps on the stairs.
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Posted: Thu Sep 10, 2026 9:18 am
Riker's footsteps were faster than usual on the stairs. He'd tried to tell himself Elliot had misunderstood. Maybe Atticus had wanted the stationery. Maybe Julian had decided he didn't use it anymore. Maybe it was only a box of paper, and Elliot was worrying because Atticus had gotten emotional over something that didn't mean what it looked like.
But Julian loved that stationery.
Riker knew because he'd watched him write with it every week. He knew which envelopes were going to friends and which ones were supposed to go to his parents, because the latter never had stamps. Julian had always been so careful with it. So private.
And now he'd given it away.
Riker reached the bedroom and pushed the door open without knocking.
"Jules?"
Maxim lifted his head from the bed, but Riker barely noticed. His attention was pulled to the desk almost immediately.
Something wasn't right about it. Like it had been stripped down until it barely looked like Julian's anymore. The little things that usually made it his were gone, and every remaining object was lined up too neatly. Like no one really used it.
His stomach dropped. He crossed the room and pulled open the first drawer.
He knew he shouldn't. The knowledge of what he was doing sat heavy in his chest as he searched through it, then the next. He had never gone through Julian's things before. Even sharing a room and a bed, there were lines he didn't cross. Julian deserved privacy. Riker knew that.
But if respecting that privacy meant ignoring something important because it was easier not to look, then… Julian could hate him for this later.
He'd rather have Julian furious with him than—
Riker shut the drawer harder than he'd meant to and turned toward the closet. The light was on inside, the door was mostly closed, but through the gap he could see boxes. Too many boxes. Small, neat labels in handwriting he immediately recognized.
His heart began pounding hard enough to make him feel sick. He pulled the door open farther.
Julian was there, surrounded by papers and things that had disappeared from the room. For one moment, relief washed over Riker to just see that Julian was physically there in front of him.
But then the fear came back even worse than before.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
It came out sharper than he intended. Riker stopped in the doorway, hands flexing uselessly at his sides while he tried to breathe around the strange pressure in his chest.
"Elliot talked to me," he said, quiet, although the words were still uneven. "He said you gave Atticus your stationery." He eyed the boxes again. How everything had been packed away and pushed out of sight.
"And then I came up here, and your desk is—" He stopped, jaw tightening. "Everything's gone."
Riker swallowed hard. He wanted to reach for Julian. He wanted to wrap his arms around him and hold him close and promise him everything would be okay. He wanted to pull him out of the closet and keep him where he could see him, but that would only scare him. So he stayed where he was, even if every part of him wanted to close the distance.
"I looked through your desk," he confessed. "I know I wasn't supposed to. You can be mad at me. I'm sorry, but I'm not sorry enough to pretend this doesn't look bad."
His voice cracked slightly on the last word, and he looked away for a moment before forcing himself to meet Julian's eyes again.
"Why are you packing everything up?"
There were too many possible answers, and Riker hated all of them.
"Are you planning to go somewhere?" he asked, more quietly. "Or are you giving things away because you don't think you're going to need them?"
The question made his throat tighten, but he couldn't leave it unsaid. Not when he was already standing there surrounded by all the things he should have noticed disappearing.
"I'm not trying to trap you," he added quickly. "I just need you to tell me what's happening. Even if you're mad. Even if you think I'm overreacting."
Riker's hands curled into fists by his sides, mostly to keep them from shaking. "I can't find out later that I saw all of this and didn't ask."
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Posted: Thu Sep 10, 2026 9:22 am
A frown settled on Julian’s face but it looked wrong there, like the muscles weren’t quite sure how to hold it.
The rest of his face didn’t move. He looked at Riker with wide, alert eyes, but there was only confusion.
Not anger.
The gum in his mouth had soured. It was only partly chewed, but he unclenched his jaw and swallowed it.
Accidentally swallowed his words, too.
Riker was upset. There was a bite to his words that Julian never heard--at least, not where he was concerned.
It wasn't just his voice, it was his body. Tense, like a bow strung too tightly. He was moving like he had energy he didn't know what to do with, like it was fighting to just get out.
He glanced between Riker, and the box, and then back again. Neither held any answers for him, but he’d wasted time looking.
Riker didn’t need to confess to looking through his desk, Julian heard all of it. Riker closed the drawers too quickly, too roughly. The first drawer was full of the usual necessities–the things he needed for school, neatly organized. The pills in the second drawer rattled as Riker shut it, and one bottle had tipped onto its side. Normally the medication was hidden behind notebooks and odds and ends. Today, there was nothing else.
The third drawer, which he had previously used for his crafting supplies, was completely empty.
“I’m not mad,” he reassured quickly. His voice was too soft, he could hardly hear it himself. Of course, he could hardly hear Riker, too.
“I’m not going anywhere.” Where would he go? –He wasn’t getting kicked out. Right? –Did Zac change his mind? Did Talia?
The gum had gone down but something was still lodged in his throat.
Julian couldn’t see much over Riker’s shoulder, but worry cascaded over him like a waterfall, and an anxious energy began to build.
It looked bad? bad?
“I’m sorry.”
Had the closet always been so small? It was a little cramped, but that was his fault, it was so unorganized. But had the ceiling always been so close? Had the walls?
The only way out was past Riker, but he was blocking the doorway. He probably would have moved if Julian asked, but he forgot how to. All he could think about was about how bad things looked.
“The other bedding is in the dryer, would that help? I can change it as soon as it’s done. I know it’s a little messy right now, but–I can take care of it. There was a bag of trash in the closet with him, and another by the door. He left the vacuum cleaner in their room too. His drink wasn’t in here with him, so that meant it was probably on a shelf somewhere, that probably looked bad, too.
“I was trying to clean up, I thought I would have more time before you got back. I can fix it.”
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Posted: Thu Sep 10, 2026 9:23 am
"No— Jules, no. That's not what I meant," Riker quickly corrected. He took a step away from the door and relaxed his hands. He hadn't realized how completely he'd been blocking it until Julian started looking around him like he needed somewhere else to go. So he moved to the side and lowered himself to sit against the wall instead, leaving the close open in front of Julian.
"I don't care about the mess," he said quickly. "Or the laundry. Or the vacuum, or any of that. You don't have to fix anything."
His heart was still beating too hard, too fast, and he couldn't seem to get the words lined up properly before they came out.
"When I said it looked bad, I meant—" He stopped and rubbed a hand roughly over his face. "Your stuff is gone, Jules. Your desk looks like nobody uses it anymore. You gave Atticus something I know is important to you, and everything else is in boxes."
He looked at Julian again, fear tightening his throat.
"It looked like you were trying to make yourself easier to clean up after."
The words came out too bluntly, and Riker flinched at himself, but he couldn't take them back. And he couldn't pretend that wasn't what scared him.
"Like you were putting everything away so nobody else would have to deal with it if you—" His voice caught. "If you weren't here."
He'd heard enough his whole life about how much easier everyone else would have it without him. How much trouble he caused just by existing. He knew how easily those words could start sounding reasonable when they came from enough people for long enough.
Riker couldn't assume Julian thought anything like that. But he couldn't ignore the possibility either.
"I'm not saying that's what you're doing," he quickly added. "I'm just asking because I don't know. And I got scared. And then I came in here and… made everything worse." He glanced toward the desk, guilt melting into the fear.
"I shouldn't have gone through your drawers. I'm sorry. But this isn't about you cleaning wrong, okay? You didn't do anything bad."
Riker stayed where he was, keeping the way out clear even though he desperately wanted to move closer.
"I just need to know…" he said, quieter now. "Are you safe?"
He swallowed, the thoughts still heavy on his heart.
"Are you thinking about hurting yourself? Or doing something so you won't be here anymore?"
The question made him feel sick, but his eyes stayed fixed on Julian.
"You're not going to get in trouble for whatever the answer is," he promised. "I'm not mad. I just need you to tell me the truth so I know what to do."
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Posted: Thu Sep 10, 2026 9:24 am
The door might have been open, but Julian suddenly wanted to go to the back of the closet and hide in the furthest corner. Riker’s eyes were too intense, and Julian wasn’t sure what they could see.
For a moment, nothing Riker said made sense. Julian tried to hold his gaze but he crumbled beneath it, and suddenly the ground felt like the only safe place to look.
He didn’t care that Riker went through the desk. There wasn’t anything to find there. Well–the letters, but those were in a box already, with three layers of packing tape. He should have thrown them away but he couldn’t. There was trash, and then there was–
Whatever was less than that. Julian didn’t know what to do with the letters. The idea of them going anywhere where anyone would see them–
Which was stupid, because the problem was that no one had, and–
Riker needed him to say something. He was waiting.
Sitting on the floor, worrying.
“I’m just cleaning,” he said, but it came out soft and desperate, like he didn’t know what else to say about it. Nothing else made sense, and everything else felt so–
How was he supposed to tell Riker that he wasn’t–
Of course he was safe, he was here. He wanted to be here.
Julian felt oddly exposed. He’d rolled his sleeves up to his elbows earlier so he could work, which was higher than he usually did, but now the sight of his skin made him feel sick. He tugged the stretched out sleeves back down until his hands were covered again.
“I have a lot of stuff.” More than he’d had in a long time. Too much stuff, probably. “It was taking up a lot of space. It’s just–it was a lot, and I–I wasn’t planning on…I mean, the…”
His chest was heavy, like how it felt when Soleiyu stood on him to wake him up, except it felt like it went deeper. It felt empty and full all at once, like a void sucking in every breath as much as a rock lodged in his throat.
“I just–I was thinking maybe I shouldn’t be writing letters anymore, that’s all. And I wanted–I thought someone else could use that stuff. I knew he’d take care of it. I thought he could do something better with it.”
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Posted: Thu Sep 10, 2026 9:24 am
Riker's expression tightened a bit at something better, but he made himself look down instead of continuing to stare at Julian.
He was making Julian uncomfortable, he could see that much. Julian had pulled his sleeves down and wouldn't look at him, and Riker hated knowing he'd done that. Hated the thought that he might push too hard and make Julian shut him out completely.
Even if he doubted Julian would ever actually get mad at him.
Sometimes, Riker wished he would. Yell. Tell him to get out. Throw something, even. Anything besides folding in on himself and apologizing until Riker felt like the worst person alive for asking.
"Okay," he said, quieter. "I hear you…"
He didn't know if he believed that it was just cleaning. He knew Julian was cleaning, obviously. He'd been organizing their room for a while now. But the empty desk and labeled boxes were something else.
Riker rubbed his palms against his jeans, unhappy with how sweaty they felt.
"You did use it," he said after a moment. "The stationery. You wrote all the time. To Atticus and Elliot and everyone else." His voice caught slightly, but he pushed through it. "So I don't really know what you mean by Atticus doing something better with it. You were already doing something with it."
He glanced over at the desk again. "And it's not like we don't have room," he said, but then immediately grimaced because it sounded too much like he was arguing. "I mean—... your desk is empty now. You could've put things in the drawers if you just wanted them organized. You don't have too much stuff, Jules. I've never thought that."
This was Julian's room too. Julian's room first. Riker didn't know how to say that without making it sound like Julian needed his permission to exist there.
"You don't have to pack yourself into the closet so I can have more space," he said instead. "I don't want more space."
Maybe that was too honest. His ears warmed, but he didn't try to take it back. Riker shifted against the wall, though he stayed out of the doorway.
"I'm not trying to keep asking the same thing until you give me the answer I'm scared of," he said. "You said you were cleaning. Okay. But you also said you thought you shouldn't write letters anymore."
That part didn't make sense. Julian's letters had been a ritual for as long as Riker had known him. Something had changed, and Riker couldn't pretend he hadn't noticed just because Julian looked miserable talking about it.
He hesitated, trying to figure out how to ask without making it sound like an accusation.
"Is this because you can't write to your parents anymore?" he asked quietly. Riker's brows furrowed, and his fingers curled against his jeans. "I know those letters meant a lot to you. I know you wanted them to get there." He swallowed, then took a steadying breath. "But does not being allowed to write to them mean you think you shouldn't write to anybody?"
The question sounded clumsy once it was out, but he couldn't think of a better way to say it. "Atticus would still want your letters. Elliot too. I—" His voice caught again, and he glanced away. "You sent them to me too, Jules. Even though we live in the same room."
He didn't know why that made his throat tighten so badly. Maybe because Julian had still gone through all the trouble of writing, finding an envelope, putting a stamp on it, and sending it through the mail when he could have just handed Riker the page.
Riker had always liked that. Probably more than he had ever said. And now it seemed too late.
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Posted: Thu Sep 10, 2026 9:25 am
Time always seemed to pass strangely in the closet. Riker could have been talking for a few seconds or a few minutes and Julian couldn’t have told the difference. He listened to every word, letting it echo in his mind until he understood them.
It took too long for them to settle. He knew he was responsible for the awkward silences that passed between them but he couldn’t really do anything about it.
Riker deserved better than some hastily cobbled answer, but Julian couldn’t think of any answer.
His skin tingled, the sensation before a sunburn turned from discomfort from pain, but he felt it down to his bones.
Riker wasn’t very good at hiding his emotions. He’d never been, but usually his outbursts were loud and a little aggressive. It wasn’t necessarily hostile, but it was powerful. And, sometimes, a lot. A bit of it slipped out earlier.
‘What are you doing?’ echoed in his mind, a little louder, and a little crueler, than Riker said it.
It started to sound less like Riker and more like himself, and then more like a memory his mind wouldn’t let him touch. So he stopped reaching.
He nodded quickly, not sure what he was agreeing to. His hands were frozen but he was afraid to draw any attention to them, so he resisted the urge to rub them together.
There was either a stain or lint on the carpet in front of him, and he stared at it until his vision blurred.
None of what Riker said was wrong, but Julian didn’t know how to acknowledge that while also explaining himself.
Yes, he liked writing the letters. And visiting the stationery store to see what they had, and to pick up what caught his eye, or what he thought the others might like. He enjoyed personalizing and stylizing their letters. He appreciated having time to think about what to say. He wanted them to know they were important, and that he thought about them and valued their friendship, and that the things they said mattered enough for him to remember.
Maybe getting letters in the mail was just some idealized fantasy–a childish daydream.
He’d clung to it for too long, and now he just felt raw and embarrassed.
Shame had a way of slipping into every little crack Julian had spent years poorly patching, and he wondered if his friends had only humored him.
Nothing he said couldn’t have been accomplished through a text message, and it probably would have cost less and saved time, and it would have been one less thing for them to have to figure out what to do with.
(No. You know Atticus said he liked the letters. You know he kept them, he showed you. Riker said Elliot would like them. And he–does he want them? Or is he saying that you were being foolish about it? You didn’t have to mail them. Maybe that was stupid. Please stop thinking like this, Julian. You’re not helping. Do you even remember what Riker asked? Just say something. Just say something.)
But no answer felt adequate. There was no single thing he could say that would reassure Riker. His questions felt so big, and Julian’s thoughts felt so small.
Any thought loud enough to hear wasn’t one he’d say out loud, and all of those were quickly just turning into static.
The silence stretched on for so long that it had become painful.
And then, finally, Julian mumbled, “I can’t think of anything to say.”
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Posted: Thu Sep 10, 2026 9:29 am
Riker's chest tightened at the answer. For a moment, he had no idea what to say either.
He'd pushed too hard. Or maybe not hard enough. Maybe he'd already made Julian feel cornered, and every word after this would only make it worse. The thought of backing off completely made him feel sick, but so did the thought of sitting there until Julian forced out an answer just to make him stop.
"Okay," he said finally, his voice rougher than he meant it to be, thick with emotion. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Okay. Then you don't have to say anything."
He looked down at his hands, rubbing his palms against his jeans again.
"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I don't know how to do this right."
That felt pathetic to admit. Julian was the one sitting in the closet, looking like Riker had made the walls close in around him, and somehow Riker was still making a mess of trying to help.
"I don't need you to explain the letters right now," he said. "Or the boxes. I don't need you to come up with something that you think will make me happy." He paused, trying to slow his breathing before it made his voice uneven again.
"I think I made it sound like you were in trouble," he said after a moment, frowning at himself. "You're not. I'm not mad at you. I'm just scared, and I don't know what I'm supposed to do without making you feel worse."
Riker stayed against the wall, leaving the doorway open and his hands where Julian could see them. "I'm not gonna keep asking," he promised. "Not about all of it."
He hesitated, because even that kind of felt like a lie if he left without knowing Julian was safe. He couldn't do that. He couldn't go downstairs and pretend he hadn't seen any of… whatever this was.
"But I need one thing," he said quietly. "You don't even have to talk. Just nod or shake your head."
His throat tightened.
"Do you feel like you might hurt yourself?"
Riker glanced up, but didn't try to keep Julian's gaze. "That's all," he added quickly. "I'm not asking you to explain. And after that, I can just sit here. Or I can leave and give you space. Whichever makes all of this… less miserable."
He swallowed and looked down again. "I don't want to push you away," he admitted, so quietly that it nearly disappeared beneath the sound from the television. "I just don't know how to help if you won't… give me a hint or something."
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Posted: Thu Sep 10, 2026 9:29 am
If Julian’s gaze could have bored through the ground it would have.
He’d been cold before but was now replaced with a suffocating heat. The dizziness was so disorienting that he almost threw up. He gagged once, but it quickly sobered him.
The ground felt like sand beneath him, shifting, swallowing. There was no purchase–nothing to grab onto, nothing to ground him. Just the distinct sensation of being carried away by something much stronger than he was.
In some ways, he’d understood what Riker was asking him before now. It just hadn’t seemed real.
He’d spelled it out clearly, but that only made it worse.
Riker was really upset about this. The concern was sickeningly palpable, and now that the unease had been clearly defined, Julian realized–
Well, he didn’t know what he realized, but he knew it was bad.
A flurry of emotions stormed through him so quickly that he couldn’t even begin to recognize them.
Oh–no.
He recognized one.
Humiliation.
His skin crawled like it was trying to tear itself off. He didn’t blame it.
“Is that–” his voice caught. Rough, raspy. He stopped himself several times over, barely managing fragments of a sentence before moving onto the next. “I didn’t mean to–”
He shook his head.
It was impossible to get a full breath of air. He wouldn’t fit in the room if he did. He could feel the ceiling on the crown of his head, and his elbows knocked against the walls. The boxes were suffocating. He knew he could slip into the corner, but he also knew he couldn’t just disappear.
It wasn’t like before.
Was everyone thinking the same thing? Were they all waiting for him to–
“No,” he said, but opening his mouth felt like swallowing the same hot sand he felt like he was sinking into. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to do that.”
Should he? Was he supposed to? Was he doing this wrong?
–No, that was stupid. That was so stupid.
They were worried. This was just concern. It meant they cared.
He shouldn’t feel bad about it.
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Posted: Thu Sep 10, 2026 9:32 am
"Okay," Riker said quickly. "Okay. Thank you."
Relief came first, flooding in fast enough that his shoulder dropped, but it was followed almost immediately by heavy guilt. Julian looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him, and Riker had done that. Maybe not on purpose, but that didn't make it feel any better.
"I had to ask," he said, softer now. "I'm sorry it… stressed you out. Or embarrassed you. I wasn't trying to."
He shifted a little farther back against the wall, giving Julian as much room as he could without getting up and leaving entirely. His hands stayed loose in his lap.
"And you don't have to apologize," he added. "You didn't do anything wrong by making me worry. I just—" He stopped and pressed his lips together, frustrated with himself. "Wait, no… that came out wrong."
One more thing for Julian to latch onto and think poorly of himself.
Riker looked down at his lap, taking a moment to chew thoughtfully on the inside of his cheek.
"I'm not good at this," he admitted. "I don't know when I'm supposed to ask, or stop asking, or when leaving you alone is actually worse." His chest still hurt, but at least the worst possibility wasn't sitting unanswered between them anymore.
"I got scared," he said quietly. "That's all. Elliot told me about the stationary, and then I saw everything packed away, and my head went somewhere bad."
He swallowed, rubbing his thumb against the inside of his wrist, tracing scars that might not have given himself, but were still a part of him now. There had been close calls for himself, of his own decision and not. He still wasn't sure, back then, if anyone would have actually mourned him.
"I don't want to lose you, Jules."
The words came out before he could make them sound less heavy. His ears warmed, but he couldn't take them back now.
"And I don't just mean…" He gestured vaguely, unable to say it again. "I mean I don't want you to feel like you have to hide everything from me, even when I'm right here."
Riker glanced up, but only for a moment, careful not to hold Julian's gaze. Maybe not looking directly at him would help give Julian some sense of privacy, even with him being right there.
"I know I probably made everything worse just now," he muttered. "I came in here all worked up and went through your stuff and started asking horrible questions." A small, unhappy breath escaped.
"But I'm not gonna keep pushing right now. You answered me." He paused. "I believe you."
He stayed where he was, still leaving the doorway open. "I can go sit on the bed and let you finish what you were doing," he quietly offered. "Or I can stay here and not talk. Or… if you want help, I can help. I just… don't really want to leave you alone after making you feel like this," he admitted. "But I will if that's what you need."
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Posted: Thu Sep 10, 2026 9:33 am
Julian found silence more tolerable than trying to force the words, but no part of the decision was comfortable. No matter what he did, it felt like ants crawling up his throat.
His body didn’t want to move. Julian tried to nod but everything had locked up. He could break out of it, if he pushed hard enough. It just took so much effort, and he always felt so sick.
Riker deserved that effort from him, though. The cost wasn’t really that important.
It just took a moment to work himself up to it.
“...I’m done cleaning,” he said quietly. He didn’t like the idea of leaving the closet messy, but the idea of trying to finish the box he was working on made his stomach roll.
At first, he kept his hands in his lap. He couldn’t feel them, so after another moment, he planted both palms flat on the ground, and quietly scooted closer to the door. It was the opposite direction he wanted to go, but he didn’t trust his decisions right now.
Riker was just outside the closet, with his back to the wall, but near enough to the door that he could peek in and see. His hand was visible.
Julian sat on the inside of the closet. If the wall hadn’t separated them, they’d have been back to back. Ignoring the protest of his body, he drew his knees to his chest.
He’d been quiet for too long, so he mumbled, “I’m sorry for worrying you.” It didn’t matter how many times Riker said he didn’t have to apologize, Julian still felt sorry.
“You didn’t make anything worse.” He pressed his cheek into his knee and tucked his chin to his chest. He stared into the shadows beneath the hanging clothes.
His voice came and went, not by choice. It was just hard to push the words out past all the ants.
“I’m okay.” Well, maybe not. Maybe he didn’t know what okay was. His idea of okay was maybe not the same as everyone else’s, and was maybe so far off that now everyone else was worried because of it.
His eyes felt heavy and hot but he couldn’t remember how to close them.
“...I didn’t mean to make this harder on you.” He knew he hadn’t been easy.
Riker had to deal with his peculiarities on good days, and they’d gotten worse on the bad ones. He’d had a weird schedule. He had been distracted, and forgetful. He’d spent a lot of time in bed. He woke up at weird hours. He had to get out of bed and take his medicine twice. He disappeared. He wasn’t very helpful.
He made Riker worry.
Julian’s stomach twisted uncomfortably.
He’d tried. Really tried. He put his energy into hiding the sharpest parts of himself, the ugly parts, the broken parts, the parts that just didn’t fit right. He’d put everything he had into being helpful. He’d pushed himself even when it didn’t feel right.
He did all his chores. He was back at school. He let Maxim out into the backyard. He was eating, some. He was sleeping, some. He was hydrating. He took showers. He did laundry. He stayed out of the way. He didn’t ask for much. He’d have asked for nothing if he could have helped it, but burdening Zac had been unavoidable. So he could have been better there.
His lip twitched. Trembled. He bit it to hold it still. Not hard, not to hurt. He just told Riker he didn’t want to hurt himself.
He didn’t.
He just wanted this to all go away. He wanted this to go back to how they were. He wanted to pretend like none of this happened. He wanted everyone else to pretend, too.
Julian wanted too much.
He dug his knee into his cheek.
“What can I do to be better?”
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Posted: Thu Sep 10, 2026 9:34 am
Riker's expression twisted at the question.
"What? No."
It came out too quickly and a little sharper than he meant, so he stopped and drew in a breath as he cringed at himself. Julian had moved closer to the doorway, but Riker didn't take that as permission to close the rest of the distance. He stayed against the wall, his hand resting where Julian could still see it.
"You don't have to be better," he said, quieter, once he was sure the sharpness had been dulled. "That's not what I'm asking for."
He was frustrated, but none of it was with Julian. It was with himself. With the fact that he had no idea what words might actually help instead of becoming one more thing Julian thought he had to do correctly.
"I don't want you forcing yourself to act okay so I stop worrying," Riker said. "I don't want you cleaning everything, or doing more chores, or staying out of the way, or— whatever you think would make you easier to deal with." He could feel his throat tighten. "You're not hard to deal with."
Maybe that wasn't entirely true. Sometimes Riker didn't understand what Julian needed. Sometimes he worried until he felt sick, and every answer only made him think of three more questions. But that wasn't the same thing.
"You're having a hard time," he corrected, fumbling through it. "That's… not the same."
He glanced toward the opening of the closet, but all he could see now were the boxes that Julian had neatly organized against the back. He wished he could see him, but he didn't want to crowd him more than he already had.
"And I know you said you're okay. I'm not trying to tell you you're wrong about yourself. But maybe your okay and my okay aren't always the same thing. And I don't want you to have to lie about it just because you think I need a certain answer."
He didn't know how to ask Julian to open up without making it sound like another demand. Tell me everything. Explain yourself. Make me understand. Julian already sounded exhausted trying to force out a few sentences.
"Maybe you could let me help more," Riker said cautiously. "Not because you can't do things. Just because you shouldn't have to do all of it by yourself."
He paused, frowning as he tried to fit the right thought into words.
"And if you can't tell me what's wrong, then… don't."
Oh… no, that sounded wrong. Riker groaned through a grimace.
"I mean— don't make yourself explain it. Just— give me something so I know where you are. Like, you know. Not physically where you are. Like… mentally or— uh, emotionally."
He rubbed his hand over his face because he was probably making things worse, but eventually lowered it, placing it with his palm up on the carpet in the doorway between them. An offer, if Julian wanted it. Nothing more. He wasn't even sure if Julian was looking to see it.
"It could be a word. Or a color," he said. "You could write my letters in blue when things are bad, or draw some stupid symbol in the corner. Or text me one thing that means, I'm not okay, but I can't talk about it."
His ears felt warm. It sounded childish when he said it out loud, but maybe childish was better than impossible.
"Anything," he continued. "I don't need to know the whole story every time. I just don't want to think we're on the same page and find out you've been somewhere else completely. Same chapter would be enough," he said more quietly. "Even if I don't understand the page yet."
He didn't know if that made sense. Probably not. But it was the best he had.
"And then I could ask what you need without making you explain why. Like… if you want me nearby, or if you want space, or if I need to get Zac." He hesitated. "Or if you just want me to shut up and sit with you."
He let out a quiet breath, letting his fingers curl slightly before relaxing again. "I'm always going to worry about you," he admitted. "Elliot will too. Atticus. Zac." He could have kept going, but it was a long list and Julian probably got the point. "That isn't something you're doing wrong. It's because you're important to us."
The words felt too vulnerable, but Julian had asked, and Riker couldn't answer him with anything less than the truth.
"You don't have to earn that by being helpful," he said. "And you don't have to make yourself smaller so it's easier for us to care about you. So… I don't know. Maybe that's what you can do," he said, his voice softening. "Don't try to be better. Just help me find you when you're not okay. And I'll try to get better at asking without making you feel like you did something wrong."
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Posted: Thu Sep 10, 2026 9:34 am
Riker put so much effort into his answer. He tried to explain it in a way that Julian would understand, no matter where his mind was.
Julian had to bury his whole face in his knees, because Riker would be so disappointed to know that the second he stopped talking, Julian forgot half of what he said.
Even if Riker had started off a little sharp, Julian knew he meant well, and he knew Riker cared.
Partly because of what Riker was saying. Partly because he’d repeated ‘Riker isn’t mad at you’ eight times when he was supposed to be listening.
What he did hear, he replayed in his mind as much as he could to sear it into his memory.
When he opened his mouth, a wet sound came out, like a half-formed hiccup. He brought his arm to his face but he didn’t know why. Nobody could see him. He just wanted to hide.
“I’m trying,” he croaked. “I thought I was doing okay.”
A tremor passed through him. It was probably supposed to be a sob but he’d learned how to keep those down a long time ago. It didn’t stop his muscles from clenching. He pressed his lips tightly together and breathed through his nose slowly.
“I’m sorry it looks bad. I am having a hard time.” He told Atticus yesterday. It probably wasn’t a secret. Even if he hadn’t said it, they could all see it anyway, right?
“I’m not good at asking for help. I don’t even know what I need help with.”
His words came out slow, a little wobbly, and not very loud.
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Posted: Thu Sep 10, 2026 9:35 am
Riker's chest tightened at the broken sound from inside the closet, and his open hand shifted a little closer to the doorway. He still didn't reach in. He wasn't even sure if Julian saw it, but he left it there in case he did, and in case Julian did want it.
"Okay," he said softly. "That's enough."
He swallowed, trying to sort through everything Julian had said without turning it into another speech.
"You told me you're having a hard time. That's… kind of what I was asking for," he said, even as his brows furrowed in thought. "Not for you to explain it. Just… so I know."
Riker glanced down at his hand. "And I thought you were doing okay too," he admitted. "You were going to school and doing chores and all that, so I thought—" He stopped and shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe doing everything doesn't mean you're okay."
He wished he knew what came next. Some obvious thing he could offer that would make Julian feel better. But there wasn't one.
"You don't have to know what help you need yet," he said. "I don't really know either." A small, helpless breath escaped. "So I guess we'll figure it out. We can try things, and if they don't help, then we stop. And if you can't tell me what's wrong, you can just tell me it's bad. Or give me a color, or whatever. That's enough for now."
His fingers curled slightly, but his palm stayed open. "And you don't have to apologize for how it looks," he added quietly. "I'd rather know you're having a hard time than have you use everything you've got trying to hide it from me."
Riker leaned his head back against the wall. "I'm here," he murmured. "Even if neither of us knows what we're doing."
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Posted: Thu Sep 10, 2026 9:36 am
Julian was tired. He could feel it in his bones. In his breath. In his hair.
There was no part of his body that felt alive.
Just here, sluggishly dragging onward. Usually, he didn’t mind. He was moving, just slowly. Forward, even. He thought.
“...Please don’t just see the worst of me,” Julian said quietly. “...I am trying so hard to be more than that.”
It was a lot to ask for. He felt selfish. He had all this time to sit with his emotions and sort through things. He had answers no one else had.
Riker was working so hard to understand what was going on. To make things better. To read into everything. To solve mysteries. To workshop plans.
That didn’t seem fair.
He dragged his head up. His face was warm and his eyes hurt. He had to blink to clear the blurriness, but as he pressed his right cheek into his knee, he could see Riker’s hand.
Waiting.
Julian drew in a long breath and held it until it felt like needles in his lungs. He wiped his hand off on his leg. The sleeve was too stretched out, but he could wiggle his middle and ring finger out just enough that they were visible when he put his hand down next to Riker’s.
It was a small, probably insignificant invitation.
He wished he had more to give Riker.
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