He let the spell hold him a little longer. Finally, he slid from the bed, careful not to disturb them. The air was cool against his skin. Jules’s hoodie hung from the armchair. Keaton pulled it on, sleeves stretching tight across his forearms. He wasn’t in any hurry to go out for a run this morning, preferring to be here when Jules woke up.
He padded barefoot to the kitchen, phone forgotten on the counter from the night before. As the coffee brewed, Keaton checked his notifications out of habit. There, between a text from Finn about a missing invoice and an unread email from his mother, sat a new message flagged urgent.
Subject line:RIVERS: GALLERY SHOW INTEREST—REPLY ASAP.
Keaton stared, heart thudding. The sender was the gallery owner Jules had met at the Art Crawl, the one they’d called “too polished to be real.” The one who’d then reached out to Keaton, hoping he could somehow convince Jules to put together a show. He scrolled, reading the clipped, enthusiastic sentences:
Hello Keaton,
Thank you for speaking with me yesterday and for offering to pass along my message to Jules. I appreciate your help since I didn’t have a way to contact them directly.
We would be delighted to feature Jules’s work in our upcoming emerging artists show. Please let us know if they are available for a meeting next week. Timing is tight, but their mural truly stood out, especially in light of their apparent lack of formal training.
I hope to hear from you soon!
Keaton’s first instinct was to wake Jules and tell them right away. But then last night’s meltdown slammed to the forefront of his mind, how raw Jules had been, how easily hope turned to pressure, and he stopped short. This was good news, but it was also another decision, another thing for Jules to carry. He closed the email and turned back to the coffee.
He poured coffee into two mugs, adding the oat milk creamer Jules liked to their favorite chipped mug. Jules shuffled out a minute later, rubbing sleep from their eyes, hair flattened on one side. They wore nothing but Keaton’s shirt and an uncertain expression.
“Morning,” Keaton said, voice softer than usual.
Jules blinked blearily, then smiled—a tiny thing, but real. “You’re up early. Did I snore?”
“Only a little. But it was cute.”
Jules rolled their eyes but let him tug them close, warm against his side. “You made coffee. Heroic.”
Keaton pressed a kiss to their hair, then hesitated, weighing the moment. “There’s something you should see.” He offered his phone, thumb hovering over the message. “I debated even showing you this, but it doesn’t feel right to keep it from you. Thegallery reached out. They want to feature you in an upcoming show. There’s a meeting next week if you’re interested.”
Jules stiffened—a twitch of wide-eyed panic, quickly masked. “That’s…wow. That’s a huge opportunity.”
“Yeah.” Keaton didn’t let go. “You don’t have to decide now. I just wanted you to know. And whatever you choose, I’m here. No pressure. If it’s something you want to do but you feel like it’s too much work, tell me how I can help you. And if you want to tell him you’re not interested, that’s fine too. I will support your decision.”
He was probably going a bit overboard, but after last night, he wanted to make sure Jules knew he’d heard what they were saying.
Jules stared at the phone, then at their coffee, then at Keaton. “What if I’m not ready for this? Or if I change my mind?”
He squeezed their hand. “Then you change your mind. The only thing that matters is that you’re okay. If you’re curious, take the meeting. If this isn’t the right time because you need to take care of yourself first, I’ll tell him you’re not available. Whatever happens, you won’t face it alone.”
Jules let out a breath, some of the tension easing from their shoulders. “I want to do it, but I don’t know if I’m ready.”
Keaton brushed his thumb along their jaw, gentle as a vow. “You’re more than ready. And if you need help, you’ve got me. That’s not going to change. I’m sure Paige will help too. She probably knows more about this stuff than I do.”
Jules nodded, finally letting their body relax into his. The world outside would start spinning soon—emails, deadlines,expectations. But here, in the hush of morning, it was enough to be two people holding and choosing each other, no matter what came next.
He let out a sigh of relief, glad he’d successfully navigated a field of landmines. Maybe they’d be okay. Keaton would learn how to respect Jules’s boundaries, and Jules would learn to trust that Keaton would always be there to help them achieve their dreams. He put two pieces of bread in the toaster, deciding that since he wasn’t going for his run, he’d handle breakfast this morning.
Jules caught him watching and grinned, a slanting, crooked thing that reached their eyes. “You’re staring,” they accused, voice still lazy with sleep.
“Maybe.” Keaton shrugged, not bothering to hide his smile. “I don’t get to see you like this very often. I’m usually out on my run while you’re waking up. You look like you’re plotting out world domination or something.”
Jules snorted, dropping their phone onto the table. “World domination’s overrated. I can barely dominate the laundry. Speaking of which, do you have anything dirty in the bed of your truck? I’m going to start a load after breakfast.”
Keaton shook his head, still smiling at the sight of Jules wrapped in his too-big hoodie, looking more at home than anyone had a right to this early. “I think I’m good, but I’ll double-check. You’re on a roll this morning.”
Jules rolled their eyes, but the corners of their mouth tugged up, soft and real. “It’s called productive avoidance. If I’m folding towels, I don’t have to think about emails or whether I’m about to ruin my life by agreeing to a gallery show when I’ve neverdone more than hang my art at Shelf Care Central for the locals to see.”
Keaton reached over, pressing his palm to the back of Jules’s hand, grounding them both. “You’re not going to ruin anything. And if things go sideways, I’ll be there to remind you how amazing you really are.”
