Nineteen

JULIEN

It's Sunday, and Julien's panic packing.

Last month, he told himself he'd want to work Friday and Saturday night shifts before the trip, so he didn't get too much in his head about it like he normally does when it comes to the solid weight of his studies and how much this career field means to him. But that also meant making a list of things he needed to pack and then not having a moment to pack them.

Between laundry and trips to the store and fucking Greg (or more accurately, Greg fucking him), he'd left his rolling suitcase open at the foot of the bed but never actually put anything in it. He could blame work stress or the cloudy fog of feelings he's found himself navigating since the shower sex that made his knees give out in the most earth-shattering way possible.

This trip was already loaded enough without needing to be worried about what's on the other side of it. However, Julien promised Aunt Augustine (and himself, let's be honest) that he'd open up to Greg about his feelings when he returned. So now he's throwing pairs of slacks into his bag knowing they're going to be wrinkled as hell when he arrives and hoping the hotel has an iron, or at the very least a steamer.

Greg is going to be here to pick him up in less than twenty minutes, and Julien's barely touched his toiletries. He would text Greg and ask him to come sooner and help, but he is very particular about what stays and what comes with him. And he can't ask him to come later, because he's already texted Greg twice pushing back his arrival.

The Allentown airport is small and easy to navigate, but Julien still wants to be there two hours early. He'll need to buy hand sanitizer, wipes, and spearmint gum from the terminal before he boards. Not to mention he's in desperate need of a coffee. He would make his own before he goes, but the thought of dirtying a mug and leaving it in the sink for three days gives him hives.

Greg: On my way!

Never once has one of Greg's OMW texts spurred a negative reaction until now. Julien is flying through the apartment with cheetah-like speed making sure no box on his list goes unchecked.

With barely a second to spare, he stands on the sidewalk, overheated and panting in his airport sweats, as Greg pulls up. Treating Greg like an Uber driver, he rushes to the back and pops the trunk. Out of the corner of his eye, he spies Greg beginning to step out to help.

"I'm good! No time. Thank you, though." Julien is a fray of nerves.

That is until he's nestled in the passenger seat, seat belt snug against his chest, Greg's familiar, soft rock music filling the air, and his comforting, clean scent filling the cabin. Now that they're on course to their destination he can breathe again. Greg is like an inhaler. One hit of him, and Julien's able to respire without so much exertion.

"Anything I can do for you?" Greg asks.

Julien loves that Greg knows to ask this and frequently does. It's so much better than "are you okay?" Julien never knows how to answer that. "Anything I can do for you?" is concrete. Yes or no. Very accessible even if his mind is swimming in unsteady waters.

"Could you turn the air down a bit?" Julien asks, noticing the AC has sent a chill through him.

"Of course."

They ride without speaking for a moment. Julien recognizes the singer coming through the speakers as Carly Simon. He's just tuning into the music when Greg turns the volume down like he turned down the fan.

"Listen, I was hoping we could talk about something before you leave."

Julien's heart rate spikes. He glances at the GPS on the dashboard. They're only fifteen minutes away. Is Greg about to spring the Define the Relationship talk on him right now while he's trapped in a car and coming down off a spiral?

Julien imagines that blaring red stop sign in his head. Lets the panic pass.

He knows how he feels about Greg. He's known for a while. Making it official now or in three days isn't going to make a world of difference. Sure, Julien had been hoping for the absence-makes-fonder rule to take effect so he could be an untethered man at his course, his sole focus on the wine, but he knows himself. He knows that a part of his heart is going to chip off and stay in this car after he departs. Why not reach in, tear out the whole thing, and give it to Greg now?

"Okay," Julien says, calming down enough to listen.

"I..." Julien braces for the sweet impact of Greg's confession "...I got a job interview."

Julien hears a record scratching inside his head. "Huh?"

"A different bar reached out to me about interviewing for an open position."

"Oh."

"Yeah..." Greg is kind enough to give Julien the minutes he needs to process, but not kind enough, clearly, to have brought this up when they weren't imminently approaching the busy departure lane at the airport where Julien will need to get out quickly so he can get through security and Greg won't get a ticket.

"It makes sense," Julien says, throat suddenly very dry. "I mean, with the TikToks and the Best Of list. Does my uncle know?"

"Not yet."

"Is it a competing place?" Julien can think of at least two spots within a thirty-minute drive with owners who aren't above poaching staff to get ahead.

"No, not really." Greg's voice cracks a bit, which upticks Julien's worry.

"Is it more of a club then?" Julien could imagine Greg being good in a proper party setting. His smile glowing in the black lights. Obviously he doesn't want him leaving Martin's Place, but some professional distance wouldn't be all bad. Besides, he's about to leave to take a course that's supposed to help him get out of here. Who is he to play roadblock in Greg's upward trajectory to success?

"It's still a bar-and-restaurant sort of place," Greg says. "It looks like they're starting at a better rate, though, which would be good for me."

"Got it."

"And the location would mean I'd probably get better tips..."

"Where is it?"

After a beat: "New York."

Julien has never said a more loaded "oh" in his life.

He could probably handle Greg living where he lives now while working a few towns over, but moving back to New York is out of the question. He thought Greg didn't even like it there. Maybe he misunderstood.

"It's just an interview," Greg is quick to clarify. "I could not even get the job."

"So you're taking the interview?" Julien registers how defensive he sounds.

Greg stammers for a second. "I wanted to talk to you about it first, but these past few days, the moment never really seemed right, and they asked for an answer by this morning. I knew you were swamped, and I didn't want to do this over the phone."

"Do what?" Julien asks sharply. Where is this edge in his voice coming from? He's not even trying to fight it off.

Greg looks over sheepishly. "Ask you if I should take it." Julien remains silent, and Greg adds, "Again, it's just a general interview. I might not even get it."

"You'll get it," Julien says, right as he spots the signage for the airport turnoff and a plane goes soaring overhead with a whooz.

Earlier today, he was battling with himself over a strange disinterest in going to Texas. Part of him wanted to stay here in the comfortable sex cocoon he's built with Greg, afraid it might dematerialize in the time that he's gone; he'd return to only the cracked remnants of a previously airtight chrysalis.

Maybe that's what he's been missing. Greg was undergoing a metamorphosis here, taking his time to respawn so he could return to New York City with stronger, more colorful wings. That makes sense. Even if it hurts in unimaginable ways.

"You don't know that for sure," Greg says somberly as he pulls up to the departure lane by Julien's terminal.

This is like Colin all over again. Everybody but Julien has a lot in life that allows them to go, be, chase elsewhere.

Julien is here. Always here. Always left behind.

He was caught off guard when Colin announced he was moving. He might as well get the brunt of the hurt out of the way now. Accept that Greg is going, and that's that. Pain now means less pain later.

Julien's hand is on the door handle, but Greg still has it locked. "You're good at what you do, Greg. They wouldn't have reached out to you if they didn't want you. The interview is almost definitely a formality." There goes his tongue, refusing to be held. "And besides, why wouldn't you want to go? We made the Best Of list. Business has picked up exponentially. It's not like we really need you anymore."

Greg nods slowly, sits back in his seat, unlocks the door. "Right, yeah. That's true."

"Like you said, better pay, better tips. You only came out here to get out of debt, which this will help you do. That's great. I'm glad you're going." Julien hates how the lie feels, and to avoid sitting with that, he gets out and grabs his bag from the back. Through the open window, he calls forlornly, "Thanks for the ride. Good luck with your interview. I'll, uh, see you when I'm back."

It takes everything in Julien not to glance back over his shoulder, watch Greg drive off for maybe the last time, and start crying. Too bad that when he's paying for his hand sanitizer and gum at the tiny market, he ends up crying anyway, much to the checkout girl's visible discomfort.