“I SAID, I DON’T NEED YOU TO HELP ME!” He seethes between heavy breaths.
There he is.
Pride swells in my chest at the sight of Jules finally taking ownership of his emotions.
It’s beautiful,he’sbeautiful.
I need him to let me have it all, to free me of the guilt, but also to harness the strength he’s had all along. There’s a heavy pause as the world feels like it realigns. I look up to meet his eyes, giving him a taunting smirk
“Do something, Jules.”
He launches himself at me, and I don’t move. I don’t protect myself. I just welcome him into my space, ready to take his anger, his pain, and his turmoil. But the strike never comes, the brutality never lands, he hits me with the very thing I least expect–
His lips on mine.
It’s not gentle, and it’s not kind. It’s bruising and punishing, it’s vulnerable, and it’shim.His mouth presses against mine, unmoving but determined. I don’t think about anything but how he feels, as my lips soften against his. He eases the pressure slightly, allowing me space to make a choice.
I don’t know why, but I don’t pull away; instead, I reach up and hold his face between my hands, pulling him back in. It’s slow, delicate, and hesitant. But somehow, it feels as natural as breathing. Our mouths explore every curve, every dip, every taste. There’s no thought behind each swoop of our mouths. No rush. It’s just the two of us– nothing else exists outside of this moment. My mouth opens wider, and Jules stills from inexperience. We’re both learning something new tonight, so I don’t push. Instead, I plant tender kisses across his mouth, sucking slightly on his bottom lip before he goes back in for more. Kissing my best friend should feel wrong, so why can’t I stop?
His confidence builds steadily; I feel the curiosity of his tongue when his mouth parts slightly. I open for him, encouraging him with a brush of my own against his lower lip. He’s quick to respond, mirroring my move.
A kiss has never had this effect on me before. It’s almost as though I can feel everything he feels, like he’s channelling every ounce of pain, love, and need into me with his mouth. It’s a build-up of fourteen years of friendship, a culmination of shared experiences, and the exposure of our most intimateselves. I’m fully clothed, but I feel completely naked before him; he sees me in a way that no one else does.
When his tongue brushes against mine in a slow and steady sweep, I groan from the overwhelming buildup of tension and emotion. His hands land on my waist, anchoring me in place, refusing to let this moment end. I don’t want to stop, I want to kiss him until my lips are numb and my breath is barely there, and even then, I would continue. Giving him everything I am, as he has given me.
But there are still things to be said, feelings to be considered, and changes to be addressed. It’s torturous, having to decide between pulling away and letting reality seep back in, or continuing on this path that feels like it was the only way all along. I don’t want to push Jules too far; I don’t want to scare him away by being too forward, but my body is craving him in a way that I’ve never experienced. He’s awakened something within me, something that I never knew was there before, and now it's made its presence known; it’s demanding all of my attention. I slowly lower my hands from his face, tracing the column of his neck and resting them on his chest. Jules continues to explore my mouth, his needy whimpers between breaths are unravelling me bit by bit. They’re like my own personal siren song, luring me into the unknown, the danger adding to the thrill of what the future holds for us now we’ve crossed the line.
“Jules…” I pant into his mouth between kisses. His name falls from my lips like a prayer. My composure is slipping, and my mind is spinning so fast I can’t grab on to a single thought– Idon’t know what I want right now. Usually, it would be a race to get undressed and bury myself deep. But that’s not what my body is crying out for with him. How is it possible to want everything and nothing all at the same time?
“I’m still mad at you,” he all but moans.
“I’m mad at me, too.”
“What are we doing?” He asks, but he doesn’t stop. His attentiveness to learning every inch of my mouth is intoxicating. I know we should stop, but I can’t bring myself to be the first one to pull away.
“Being mad, together.”
Jules slowly pulls his mouth away from mine, still going back for light pecks, before finally making up his mind. Even our lips protest the separation by sticking together for as long as they can. He rests his forehead against mine and closes his eyes– not tightly, just enough to keep everything else out.
“She’s going to die, Zander,” he whispers. It’s not a question, and there is no doubt in his tone, just raw and unfiltered desolation.
“I know.” His head rolls against mine as he blows out a shaky breath. A tear falls from his eye, then another, and another, until it’s too hard to watch. I pull him in by the nape of his neck and bury his face into my shoulder. His body heaves under my hold with the sobs he lets out.
I slowly guide us over to the bed. Jules doesn’t ask questions; he doesn’t hesitate at all. He simply holds on and follows me wherever I go– his blind faith reminding me of our younger years. Once I’ve got him comfortable, I settle myself beside him,curling my body around his and holding on tight. We’re both wearing jeans, but I don’t move to undress, neither does he.
We’re bridging the gap between who we were and who we could be; exploring the possibilities and testing the limits of our relationship. Tonight, Jules set the pace, but he’s trusting me to explore the boundaries. I hold on to him, instead of what I thought we were; I let go of the worries that tomorrow brings and embrace the comfort as I embrace him.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Jules
Age 19
I thought I knew Zander’s face. I’ve been looking at it and studying its many variations since we were five years old. So why does it look so different now? The crease between his brows looks the same, the slope of his nose and the slight pout to his lips still hold the same shape– so why does he look like someone completely new?
I press my thumb against the lines, smoothing them out and following the line of his brow. His unconscious response to my touch is adorable, as he nuzzles my hand persistently like a puppy. I do it over and over, taking the opportunity to watch him whilst I can. There’s no guarantee that once he wakes up and recalls the events from last night, it will be possible to be this close to him again.
“Less thinking, more head scritchies,” Zander’s morning voice is fuzzy and deep, like the stubble lining his jaw and the lines creasing his forehead. My body freezes with the realisation that he’s awake, that this is a new day, and the version of us that leaves the bed will be different from the ones who lay herebefore. His eyes are still closed, but I know he’s waiting for a response, if only to gauge where my head’s at.
