"The higher you build the walls around your heart, the harder you fall when someone tears them down."

—Unknown

My shift ended at six, and, thanks to traffic, it took me nearly an hour to get back to my apartment. Still, there I sat at eight, staring at my front door, terrified to leave the enclosed comfort of my car.

It wasn't because I thought Caleb had returned to my place, or that, somehow, the mess Laina had picked up earlier found a way to litter my carpet again. The logical part of me knew that my apartment was in the same exact condition I had left it in earlier that morning. That was part of what terrified me the most.

It was candles that scared me, of all things.

When someone lit a candle, at first, the scent would be new and unusual. With time, however, the scent would blend into the surroundings of the home. It was destined to become just a part of the atmosphere—not good, not bad, just forgettable. It would be indistinct. That was, until one left the confined space for several hours, effectively resetting his mind and nostrils. Upon return, he would be hit in the face with the aroma of the flamed wick that had long since been extinguished, but again demanded to be noticed and remembered.

Returning to my home felt so similar. Caleb was long gone, but I was sure his presence would demand my attention the very moment my key turned the lock.

I was right.

Laina had saved me a lot of work by picking up most of the trash from the living room, and I honestly had trouble imagining how I would have done that on my own. A rumbling in my stomach reminded me that my tired, sore body needed nourishment. Unfortunately, the only food left in my apartment were bags of popcorn and frozen meals.

I popped one of the icy trays into the microwave, then proceeded to fire up the noisy vacuum cleaner. The sound of small bits of glass being sucked into the canister startled me, and I clenched my eyelids shut in response. Once I was finished, I let some spray cleaner settle into the small spatters of blood stains left on the carpet fibers, while I tried to enjoy a small, miserable dinner. I wondered what Julian would have thought of this dinner I was having.

Julian.

I scampered to find my cell phone, and when I did, it was inundated with calls and text messages. I still hadn't checked my completely full voicemail box from the weekend, and had no desire to yet. All I wanted was to hear Julian's voice. It had been more than twenty-four hours since I'd heard it, and the withdrawal of him had me on edge.

With a stomach full of knots, and lungs void of air, I dialed Julian's number.

No answer.

I redialed, again and again, only to have it go straight to his voicemail. After the fifth try, I caved and started to leave a message for him.

"Julian, it's me. I'm so sorry I'm just now calling you back. I just got inside a few minutes ago. I forgot my phone at my apartment today, so I couldn't text you while I was at work. I'm just— "

Five impatient knocks on my front door cut the message short and stopped my heart simultaneously.

I hung up immediately and began to dial 911, holding my finger on the call button, just in case. As I tiptoed toward the peephole, more impatient knocks came, this time more frantic. Before I could see who it was, I heard an accented voice on the other side of the door cursing.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" my favorite voice yelled.

I canceled the emergency call before I'd completed it, threw my phone onto the table, and flung the front door wide open.

"Brooke." Julian's frazzled face held a cumbrous burden. His strange, beautiful eyes were murky with fear, his lips were curled in tension, and his forehead was lined with visible distress.

"Julian, what are you—"

Julian nearly knocked me over while trying to wrap his arms around my body in an inescapable bear hug. He enveloped me into his rigid chest, covering my head with his chin, and held my back in place with rough hands.

"Oh my God, are you okay?" His voice was pitchy and shaky.

"I'm fine. I mean, I'm better than fine now. You're here. What are you doing here? How did you know where I live?" I kissed the skin just under his collarbone.

"Your friend told me where to find you. I got on the first flight out that I could. I was here at half-six, but you weren't here yet. So, I left in my car hire to get some dinner. If you didn't answer now, I was going to find that damn newspaper building." His grip did not let up.

"Why did you decide to come?" I felt the stress of the world melting out through my pores.

"Laina told me what happened. I had to see you and make sure you were okay. I've been ringing and ringing, Brooke. Why haven't you answered me?" He sighed with his lips on my forehead.

"I'm sorry. I was just leaving you a message as you were knocking. I left my phone here on accident today."

"I was so worried about you. So damn worried." He almost wept into my hair.

"I'm okay. No, I'm better than okay." I stroked his back, and for the first time in minutes, Julian let go of me long enough to look around my place.

"What a disaster. This is my fault." Julian cupped his hands around his face.

"No, Julian. This is nobody's fault, least of all yours," I promised him, and meant it.

"What has he done to you?" Julian looked around the room in disgust.

"You should have seen it last night. This," I motioned with my hands, "is after we cleaned. Well, Laina did most of the cleaning this morning. I just vacuumed before you got here. Still, I'm sorry you have to see my place like this."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Brooke. I want to stay here with you, if you'll allow it?" Julian asked, as if it were a serious question.

"You're staying with me." I smiled at him. "But what am I going to do? I don't think I can take time off of work. I just started."

"Don't. I'll just stay here during the day and we can do something at night. I have to leave on Thursday for L.A. but we still have three nights together." Julian almost chuckled. "I got so much shit for coming here. Everyone else is leaving for L.A. tomorrow, to start rehearsals for the festival this weekend."

"Julian, you didn't need to come. I don't want you to get in trouble for me. I was okay." Secretly, I was so relieved he was there with me. I felt safe. And loved.

"You weren't okay. Guitar can wait." A chunk of hair fell over my eye, covering it, and Julian brushed it back. "You are far more important to me."

"How will you be prepared for the festival? I thought it was a big deal," I wondered.

"It is. It could help our reach. But I know our songs like the back of my hand, daily practices or not. Don't worry about that." His fingers gripped my shoulders, encouraging me to look him in the face. "Besides, I really need this time with you, away from everyone. I feel better knowing you're safe with me."

"I do feel safe now," I disclosed.

"Good, because he's not coming near you ever again." The severity of his words left me feeling entirely protected. "What shall we do now?"

"Can we go relax upstairs? Maybe watch a movie on my laptop? My legs are killing me." Before he could answer, I went to the cabinet and pulled out a bag of popcorn.

"Anything you want, Brooke."

The scent of buttery, salted popcorn filled every inch of my apartment, as we snacked in my bed and watched a comedy. My legs rested over Julian's lap, and his fingers worked through the tight kinks in my calves.

If someone had told me two weeks earlier that I would soon have a member of Ascend the Stars in my bed, massaging my legs and sharing a bowl of popcorn with me, as we laughed at the terrible, dry humor in a mediocre comedy movie, I would have suggested he be admitted to a mental institution. The most remarkable thing, though, was not that Julian was in my bed, but rather how right it felt to have him there.

I loved him. My God, did I love him.

No longer did I worry about the logic or complications of it; love was not supposed to always make sense. All I wanted to do was scream it from the rooftops. I wanted everyone to know that I had found my only soulmate in this life. I couldn't do that, however, and it was fine by me, as long as he knew. More than telling anyone else, I wanted to tell Julian himself.

I wanted Julian to know, without any question or ambiguity, that he held my heart in his hands. It was badly bruised, yes, but my trust in him to care for it was invincible.

Maybe I could tell him tonight, I thought. Patiently, I waited for the right moments. There were instances where I came close—when the movie would buffer, leaving a silent opening for me to say three unconditional words that would solidify my devotion.

Surely Julian felt the same, I reasoned with myself. Why would he have been in my bed otherwise? Irrational fear, of being the first to admit it, held me back.

I thought Julian might have said it in Orlando before we fell asleep just nights earlier, but I couldn't be sure that I wasn't simply imagining things, or already dreaming. I knew the mind to be such an overwhelmingly powerful organ, that could've turned sleepy sighs into I love yous for aching hearts that wanted to hear it badly enough.

Maybe he didn't say it after all, and if that were so, I would have felt like a fool.

I didn't remember falling asleep, but when I randomly woke in the middle of the night, Julian had set my computer down, turned off the lamp in the bedroom, and cuddled me into exhausted unconsciousness. Even in the disorientation of the dark, I knew it was him, from his scorching skin pressed to my bare back, and his thick-skinned fingers on my stomach.

Light snores fell from his slightly parted mouth, soothing me into a slower breathing rhythm of my own. His scent pacified me back into dreamland, where nobody, not even Caleb, could disturb me.

...

When I woke for work, I expertly slithered my way out of Julian's strong, warm arms without disturbing him. He looked so peaceful while fast asleep under my blankets. Though I wanted to kiss him before I left, I just couldn't bring myself to risk rousing him. Untroubled, neutral features spread across his beautiful face and I wanted to forever remember him looking exactly like that.

No pain, no consternation, just restful tranquility.

Next to his pillow, I left a note and a spare key to the apartment, in case he wanted to leave. After Caleb destroyed my books and television, there was very little with which to entertain himself in my place, so I assumed he would want to get outside at some point.

The drive to work seemed even quicker than the day before, as I listened to Julian's CD in my car. My awe and appreciation for his talent grew with each passing track, and it stunned me to think of where he might have ended up, had Mason never found him practicing at the pawn shop on one fateful day. So many details had to come together, fall so perfectly into place, for us to meet. It left me frozen to think of how vulnerable we were, and how any number of things could have happened to ensure we never met.

Somehow, chance or destiny was kind to us.

I couldn't tell which one it was.

I stopped by Grace's desk, as she asked, to pick up my identification cards before heading upstairs. One of the cards was attached to a press pass lanyard for special events, and the other was just a building identification card that I was supposed to clip onto my work attire while at the station. My eyes looked every bit as morose and drained as I thought they would. Each time I looked at these cards, I would be reminded of what Caleb had done to me. Not that I could have easily forgotten regardless.

"Miss Brooke." Grace stopped me as I turned on my heel. "Feel free to help yourself to coffee and croissants in the employee lounge. It's two doors down from the elevators."

"Oh." I smiled at her. "I think I will. Thank you."

She nodded with a smile and excused herself to transfer a call.

Luckily, the lounge was simple enough to find and, better yet, it was empty. The coffee smelled fresh and strong, so I poured myself some in a disposable cup and stirred in two liquid caramel creamers. As I was stirring, a voice behind me made me jump.

"Good morning!" I turned to find Eric in beige slacks and a forest green button-up. His hair was gelled and styled. It looked quite different from the previous two times I'd seen him.

"Good morning," I returned the greeting.

"Quit following me," he joked and smiled.

"Well, I was in here first. Doesn't that make you the follower and me the followee?"

"Alright, yes, touché," Eric faltered, while filling a cup with the delicious smelling dark roast. He offered to carry some pastries up for both of us. I noticed that he took his coffee black, and I felt like a child in comparison, with my need to heavily sweeten the caffeinated fluid.

"I think Burt really enjoyed your article yesterday," Eric said while we rode the elevator up.

"Really? How do you know that?" I asked.

"He usually doesn't publish a new recruit's first piece." Eric glanced at me sideways.

"It's in today's paper?" I reiterated, just to be sure I was understanding him correctly.

"Yes." He laughed. "And in the web version, of course. Quite impressive, Miss Fray."

"Thank you. But call me Brooke." It seemed silly for him to enact subordinate politeness when he was likely older, and definitely more established at the Tucson Telegram.

"As you wish." Eric grinned and took his seat as I took mine.

A copy of the day's paper was folded on my chair, with a sticky note from my boss.

There was, indeed, a new assignment on my desk, so I delved right in. Between thoughts, I pulled out my phone to find two texts from Julian.

Good morning, beautiful. I didn't even hear you leave. This pillow smells of you. x

Brooke! Why is there absolutely no food in your place?

I replied. I'll have to go pick up something after my shift, I'm sorry! Want me to order you some delivery?

No, no. I'll get by. :)

I worked through lunch—graciously declining Eric's offer to join him for sandwiches and soup at a nearby café—and finished my assignment just before the end of my shift. Burt had only come to check on me once, and I took this as a massive compliment of his confidence in my abilities. He seemed pleased with his decision to take a chance on me, and I was thrilled to be steadying my feet in such a reputable company.

Once in my car, I sent Julian a text.

All done for the day. Any requests for dinner from the supermarket?

Right away, .

Wait, don't go to the shop yet. Can you come back here first? x

I smiled. Sure, on my way now.

Before I even stepped into my apartment, I could smell something incredible cooking. I knocked first, to alert Julian that I was coming in, then turned the handle to enter.

The images before me blew my mind.

Julian was standing in the kitchen, pulling crispy, brown chicken breasts from the oven. On the stovetop, he was stirring creamy macaroni and cheese, and the countertop was strewn with ingredients for an all-out salad. That thoughtfulness alone would have been enough to make me tear up, but what really got to me was everything else.

A new, dark-gray couch was sitting where my old, torn one had been that morning. Next to it was a new bookcase, with several copies of classic novels, including, most notably, Brave New World. Across from that was a small television with the tags still on it. The cabinets, refrigerator, and freezer were stuffed to the brim with fresh food. There was even a new, glass dinnerware set that Julian was scooping our meals onto.

"Welcome home." Julian smiled from the stove. "What do you think?"

"Julian," I nearly stuttered.

"Yes?" he called over the sound of the fan above the stove.

"What is all of this? How did you...?" I stumbled over my words.

"I went to the store and got you some things that I noticed you needed." He smiled nonchalantly.

"The couch, how did you?" My sentences were barely coherent over my tears, falling freely down my cheeks.

"I picked it out, asked them to deliver it today. They took away the old one. It was looking rough. Hope you don't mind." Julian set the dinner plates onto the kitchen table.

"Why?" I wrapped my arms around him, holding onto him with all of my strength.

"Isn't it obvious?" he whispered into my ear, while wiping the tears from my face. "Don't cry. This was supposed to make you happy."

"I am. I've never been so happy. Maybe that's why I'm crying. I don't know how to react to this new feeling in any other way." My fingers twirled through his brown hair. "How can I ever, ever thank you for all of this?"

"By trying my food before it gets cold." He chuckled into my ear. Julian kissed my cheek and pulled out a chair for me.

The sensation of satisfaction and fullness came not just from the delicious meal he had worked so hard to prepare for us, but from the selflessness of the man sitting directly across from me.

The man that, without boundary or apprehension, I loved with every fiber of my being.

The man I simply didn't deserve, but could never live another day of my life without.

1. "It's Alright" by Fractures

2. "Photograph" (cover) by Travis Atreo

3. "Roads" by Kawala

4. "Wait for Me" by Motopony