#zian.julian1

[zianramn]

SETTING: the cozy cup | late afternoon AVALABILITY: closed starter for julian thompson | ( @julianthompson)

It had been a while since he'd last seen Julian, let alone, had a decent conversation with the man without going straight to the next bathroom stall to do a line of coke while electronic music vibrated on the walls around them. No, it had come to Zian's attention that Julian was avoiding him now, and, he couldn't exactly say that he wasn't doing the same with his friend. Things hadn't been the same for Zian ever since his break up with Lily... ever since he'd woken up in the hospital after having had his stomach pumped clean.

But that didn't mean he didn't miss Julian.

Fuck... Julian was like his favorite kind of drug. Dangerous, addictive... but at the same time, there was the part of Jules that it seemed like only Zian knew. The vulnerable, sweet, actually dependable part of him. The part that was hard to let go. The part that he missed like a limb had been ripped off him.

"I ran into your grandmother the other day." He said, approaching Julian's table at the coffee shop. "She asked me a question about you and... for the first time I didn't know what to say?" Reaching up behind his head, Zian scratched the spot, before continuing. "So uh... I guess it's time we stop being kids and stop avoiding each other, isn't it?"

[zianramn]

Twenty years of friendship and it still amuses him just how much Julian thinks his antics are hard to read or recognize. Twenty years Zian has been coming and going to this place, to any place Julian has been... twenty years they've been in each others' lives and yet, Julian still doesn't understand some things about Zian. But then again... it's hard, when even Zian, himself, find it hard to understand. But at the end of the day, Julian doesn't get it. He's not judging. He just wants his best friend to understand his reasoning.

And it hurt because that same best friend doesn't seem to.

Zian is in pain. He hadn't been sleeping well, and after having found a way with his family's lawyers to keep all of this away from media outlets and, most importantly, to keep his illicit recreational activities (which, he still refuses to call an addiction), from the University's knowledge.

But he's in pain... and all he wants is to crawl back into bed and never leave. He wants to take his cup of coffee and go to his apartment, to turn on some Morrissey, which, he begrudgingly still listens to, despite the singer's obvious misalignment with Zian's own political views, and try to sleep. Despite the hunger clawing in the pit of his stomach, despite his joints aching like he'd spent the entire day doing the most atrocious routines in the gym, despite him feeling cold in the middle of May. He's in pain, and all that he wants to do is to make Julian understand why pulling away was the best option.

The loud thud of the other man's laptop stole a sigh from Zian's lips, one that also hurt, because the air felt heavy as it left his lungs and curious gazes were drawn to the two men sharing a difficult conversation in the middle of the coffee shop. "Stop making a scene." Zian stated plainly. "I'm not a child, you're not a child, and I'm certainly not here to coddle you or your spoiled ass." And while it was a rare scene, to catch Zian in such raw state and using words that weren't as poetic as they often were, sometimes, it happened. "You're not my God. You are my friend, and I'm telling you, Julian, that I can't take it anymore." Maybe it was a hard concept for the younger man. Maybe, Julian wasn't ready to join him, which, to Zian, became clear due to the blue-eyed man's indiscretions. "I'm tired, Julian." Pause. "I'm tired, but I want to live."

His long, artistic fingers, so used to holding onto pens and typing poetry on papers, now raked through his dark hair, almost fighting the urge to pull at his strands. "No, Julian. I know damn well you're not my girlfriend. My girlfriend dumped me because I was 'too much' for her. Just like Peyton before her and a few others before." And yet, Julian was sitting there, acting just as cruel. "You know what? This was stupid of me." Zian shook his head, pushing his chair back so he could stand up, bringing his cup of coffee with him. "Sorry to have bothered whatever it was that you were so busy doing. Let me know when you want to have an adult conversation about what happened." / @julianthompson

he almost visibly flinches when zian clocks the lie that had rolled from his tongue. you're not busy. the observation is sharp and cuts right through him, almost as if twenty years wasn't supposed to have already made them much too familiar with each other to the point of blindness, like he could hide things from zian in plain sight. well, he'd been wrong, and he averts his gaze with furrowed brows, finds them back towards his laptop screen which he promptly straightens up. not busy my ass. his fingers move across his mouse pad, aimlessly scrolling as the words on the page continue to mean nothing to him while zian speaks, a quiet desperation in his voice.

i love you. i want to get clean. that earns zian a look, at least, a piercing gaze over the futile fence he'd put up. zian is pleading with him, on his proverbial knees, for something that feels almost impossible for julian to provide. the mention of his illicit activities when he thought zian wouldn't take notice (again, twenty years) during his recovery has him completely shutting his laptop closed with a distinct thud that prompts nearby patrons to briefly shift their attention towards their table. his arms are once again folded across his chest as he sinks back into his chair, eyes narrowed at his friend. looking away would be an admission of guilt and that was the last thing he wanted zian to have.

"i ain't your god, z. i'm hardly in any position to tell you what's right or wrong. hell, i'm the last person qualified on this earth to be the judge of that." he scoffs and he shifts in his seat once again, straightening up and leaning back. from the perspective of somebody else, he might look like he's squirming under zian's gaze. "just like you're not the judge of what it is i do on my time with my resources. baby, don't be a hypocrite. it don't look good on you." he smirks, lips slightly curling as he shakes his head. his eyes discern the state of zian for a few more moments — how many hours of sleep he must've gotten last night, what he'd had for breakfast, or if he'd had any, how bad must the withdrawals be. he tries to gather information from the patch of dark skin under his eyes, the slouch of his shoulders, the crooked fold of the collar on his shirt, the large-sized cup of coffee on the table. again, twenty years.

then zian brings up death, how close to it he'd gotten—how close they've gotten—and he'd be lying if he says it doesn't still claw at something still raw inside his chest. so he sighs, tries to ignore how heavy the air is getting the longer they both sit here. "look, i get it. lily fucked you up good." he hopes the mention of zian's ex would try to relieve some of this attention off of himself, maybe arouse a different kind of anger rather than the one he knows that zian is trying to contain with how patronizing he feels he's being towards him. "but i don't think it's fair that you're putting that on me. i'm not your girlfriend."

[zianramn]

It's hard for him not to see Julian sitting there and wish he had been a better friend to the younger man. He could have been more upfront with how he was feeling, he could have been more clear before pulling away and putting a clear distance between them, but the rehab's therapist's voice is inside his head all the time, telling him Julian is a bad influence and he can't help but agree, but at the same time, given how miserable Zian had been lately, it was also a clear sign that he couldn't easily shake his best friend off. He didn't want to easily shake his best friend off.

Upon Julian's acceptance, Zian pulled the chair away from the coffee table and sat down, placing his coffee order between them, just like Julian had with his laptop, both creating invisible walls between themselves, all for the sake of nothing. "You're not busy." He told Julian. That small nose twitch his best friend did whenever he lied, once again, presenting itself and proving to both Zian and Julian that no matter how much they tried, there was little they could actually keep from one another. "But..." He sighed, his free hand once more running along his dark strands. At first, while he gathered his thoughts and decided on how to begin his long list of apologies, Zian's big, brown eyes are trained on the coffee mug before him, and then, as he finally feels like he can say something that won't sound stupid leaving his mouth, he averts his gaze up, hoping to God or any celestial being that he gets to meet Julian's crystal clear orbs in the end of his search, as a beacon of light to his darkness. "But... I couldn't stay."

His words are simple and they don't mean exactly what he wants to say, and yet, they're what escape Zian's lips.

"Jules, I'm..." Again, a brief pause. His chest hurts in pure agony, afraid of what Julian might say or how he might react. "I love you. I'm sure that isn't any doubt in how I feel about you by now, man. We've been best friends for the last twenty-years." Another pause. Zian's fingers tapping on the coffee mug as he doesn't know what to do with his hands at the moment. "I love you. It physically hurts to be away from you... but I also want to get clean, man." How did that feel so hard do to? To push those words out, and trying not to get caught up in the way Julian's eyes felt upon him. How to do that when it felt like he might lose the most important person in his life? And... and I can't do that if you're snorting coke in my bathroom sink, or popping pills when I sleep." His words aren't angry as they leave his lips. They feel more like a plea than a lecture. They feel like an invitation rather than goodbye. They are there to let Julian know that Zian knows what has been happening behind his back. "Do you understand what I'm saying?" Pause. His eyes searched for an answer in Julian's, as if his blue orbs could speak words neither men could. "I know it wasn't right to push you away, but... Do you understand why I did what I did?" Even if he didn't, Zian wouldn't have a problem showing him. "I don't want you coming home to a corpse, Julian. And I don't want the same for me. So I had to distance myself... but it hurts, man. It fucking hurts. And it fucking sucks." / @julianthompson

it had only been months since the incident. and months since julian had started feeling things grow cold between him and zian for reasons that have not been explicitly stated, but he's pretty sure he can put two and two together and have things perfectly add up. we, then, feels like a gratuitous backpedaling of what he thinks zian has been trying to achieve which is, as far as julian is concerned, dropping him like a quarter in a drainage. it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, and he pulls a face, like he's tasting it on his tongue, this caustic, chemical-y flavor of petty that dares curse out his best friend.

the gravity with which zian announces his desire to speak to julian is unsettling, and only mildly rattles him, but he is rattled all the same. rolling his eyes, he sighs and gives the chair a nonchalant wave, giving zian permission, albeit begrudgingly, to join him on the table. he pulls his laptop closer towards him, pushes the screen down a little as if zian could even see it from behind, but he does not close it, leaves it open as some sort of barrier between them. like a breakwater, much like the one zian has been building against him these past few months. did he think he was the only one?

once zian is settled in, julian leaves room for silence. just watching zian, arms still folded across his chest, rising and falling rhythmically to his breath. zian is very much alive, and he's sitting here all in one piece, mostly because he is an unbreakable spirit, but also partly because julian made sure of it. and getting ignored for months was the thanks he got, so yeah, he's still feeling a little chafed and maintains heavy eye contact as if to prove that he has the upper ground. that zian came to him, that he was the first to break. not that there's competition to begin with. "spit it out, man. i don't fuckin' got all day," he urges, despite the lie — he does have all day, but nobody needs to know that.

[zianramn]

Zian had known Julian all his life, it seemed. From teenage summers spent by their poolsides, to young adult versions of themselves, discovering the nitty gritty truth about love and loss, about heartbreaks and happiness, it seemed that for each important moment of his life Julian had been present. Even when he hit his lowest and lost control, thus landing in a hospital bed, Julian was there. Julian was there to hold his hand and promise not to say anything to Oscar, Julian was there to take him home and make sure he was sleeping well and eating well... but also, Julian had been there snorting crushed Vicodin pills in Zian's bathroom, leaving behind traces of white power on his sink's marble.

If he wanted to get clean, he needed Julian to be there for him, too.

"I said 'we'. As in, you and I." He clarified, just in case Julian's wounded ego needed it. Most of the times, he reckoned, it did. Still, he sighed. Tired, defeated, heartbroken. He hated knowing that he had been the source of Julian's anger, that he had been the one who had, once again, decided to act on a whim instead of communicating properly, thus leaving the one person who mattered the most to him, alone with his own demons and trying to guess what had happed. "Don't say it like that." Zian tried. Words leaving his lips in a plea to the man in front of him. His big, almond eyes, exhausted from everything that had happened in the last two months he'd been clean, but also, sad to be seeing his best friend so hurt like that.

"I—" What did he want? Saying he wanted Julian back was too simple, too bland and it wasn't enough to describe what he truly meant by those words. What he wanted was to have those summers back by the pool, where none of them had a single care in the world. What he wanted, was to be able to look at his best friend again and know both of them would be okay. What he wanted, was to look forward to summers in Wilmington, basking in on each other's companies and updating each other about what had happened during their year away. He wanted the pictures together, the nights staying up laying on top of their cars and watching the sky. He wanted the meaningful chats, the meaningless chats.

He wanted Julian back.

But having Julian back also meant courting with the darkness that surrounded both of them and promised to swallow them whole someday. Being an addict, even if a functional one like Zian had been, was still an illness that needed to be treated and he couldn't expect to get better when his favorite kind of drug was sitting there, looking crossed at him.

"I'd like to talk to you about some things, Julian." He said instead, his free hand resting on the back of the empty chair across from his best friend's. "Mind if I sit?" / @julianthompson

it's like the days just never end. he doesn't have a job. he has a career. or he had one, or he thinks he had one, and now there's just a whole lot of nothing here in wilmington where los angeles had something to offer at every turn. something is always happening, always moving. it used to be that there weren't enough hours in a day, no matter how much blow he does or how many days he stays awake, he could never get enough done. and now, he's forced to slow down and be alone with himself more than he's used to, more than what's good for him.

the cozy cup isn't as crowded at this hour than he would've preferred, but there's enough people sitting at different tables for him to consider them as some kind of twisted company and he'll take that over listening to the ocean waves on his front porch and thinking about what he'll have for dinner and what time he'll go to bed.

he's sitting by the back, near where the washrooms are, his laptop propped open next to his half-empty americano as he browses his former law school's admissions page, reading through the bulletin announcements. he'd been thinking about the conversation he had with his mother over the weekend and as much as he wants to be stubborn, he's starting to wonder whether she might be right about him going back to law school.

it's when he tears his eyes away from the screen and reaches for his cup that he sees someone approaching him. sipping his coffee, he tries to remain unfazed as he watches zian walk up to him. he looks healthy (for nearly getting himself killed some two, three months ago which, by the retroactive property of assigning blame to things, could very well be his fucking fault) and it's a relief but julian's pride is a ball coated in thorns and dipped in acid that it would kill him if he were to swallow it by showing how happy he actually is to see his best friend. so he doesn't, and instead maintains a stoic expression as he lowers his cup back to its saucer, folds his arms across his chest, and keeps his eyes trained steadily on the other man as he stands awkwardly by his table.

"if nana wanted to know about me, she would've just called," he states matter-of-factly, his head tilting slightly to the side. "oh, i'm the one avoiding you? i thought i was just givin' you some space. isn't that what you wanted, z? 'cause you didn't need to tell me. i can take a fuckin' hint. you wanted your space? hey, you got it." he smirks, leaning further back against his chair. "what do you want?"