Page 79 of Espíritu

Yadriel laughed under his breath. “You make it work.”

As they sank into the pile of blankets, Julian let his body relax for the first time all night. The floor was firm beneath them, but the warmth of Yadriel’s presence and the soft backdrop of Lita’s snores made the room feel safer somehow. Quieter.

Julian shifted closer anyway, like his body didn’t trust safety unless it could feel Yadriel’s pulse under his fingertips. “Never thought I’d be spending the night like this,” he murmured, voice low.

“Me neither,” Yadriel said with a quiet laugh. “But hey—at least we’re together, right?”

“Right.”

They lay there for a moment, the hush between them gentle and easy. Julian turned his head to look at Yadriel—at the calm in his expression, the steady breath rising and falling. The kind of calm Julian was desperate to hold on to.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m just stumbling in the dark, trying to keep my head above water,” Julian admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Yadriel shifted closer, bumping their knees. “Then we’ll stumble together,” he said simply. “You’ve got me. And Rio. And Omar, and Rocky, and Flaca. Even Maritza.”

Julian let out a quiet snort. “Especially Maritza.”

“That’s why she teases you so much,” Yadriel added with a grin. “Because she cares.”

Julian smiled faintly. A swell of gratitude rose in his chest, warm and unexpected. For Yadriel, for all of them.

“Family takes care of family,” Yadriel said, “no matter what.”

“Family,” Julian repeated, letting the word fill him with a sense of belonging that he hadn’t realized he’d been craving so fiercely. It was more than just acceptance—it was knowing that someone had your back when darkness closed in, that together, you could face whatever horrors the night might bring.

More than anything else in the world, Julian longed to be understood. Not just when it was easy, when it was hard and he was difficult. Julian spent most of his life thinking he was difficult to love, but Yadriel did it so effortlessly.

With a gentle tug, Yadriel pulled Julian toward him—an unspoken invitation that Julian accepted without hesitation. He curled up against Yadriel’s chest, head tucked beneath his chin, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

Yadriel’s hand moved slowly up and down his back, tracing lazy circles. The motion was familiar—the same way Julian’s dad used to soothe him when he was sick or sad. His eyes fluttered closed, the tension draining from his shoulders bit by bit.

Yadriel’s fingers drifted upward, brushing along the curve of Julian’s shaved head, exploring with gentle curiosity, and then paused as his fingertip grazed the ridge behind Julian’s ear.

Julian flinched.

Not from pain—but from memory.

“How’d you get this?” Yadriel asked quietly, his voice careful not to disturb the fragile quiet they’d built around themselves.

Julian exhaled slowly, the breath shaky. “It happened when my dad…” The words caught, sharp and unwelcome. He tried again.

“We were outside the shop. Just goofing off. Playing tag around the Stingray.”

His voice went distant—not from lack of feeling, but from too much of it. The memory unfurled, vivid and disjointed—a fragmented jigsaw puzzle of sensations and sounds.

He remembered the heat of the sun beating down on the concrete outside the mechanic shop, the smells of oil and metal.

“My dad was laughing, just—that big, full-on laugh he did when he wasn’t even trying to be cool,” Julian said.

He swallowed.

“Then—bang.” He flinched at the memory. “He hit me when he fell. My head smacked the cement.”

In his mind’s eye, he saw his father’s eyes widen, felt the shocking impact as his dad’s body collapsed onto him, the weight driving him to the ground—hard, unyielding cement meeting his skull with no mercy.

“Then everything went dark,” Julian finished, his voice distant and reluctant, as if retelling the story could transport him back to that moment of catastrophic loss if he wasn’t careful. It was as if he were both there and here, trapped between the past’s relentless grip and the present’s tender embrace.

“Oh, Jules,” Yadriel murmured, his voice a lifeline pulling Julian back from the edges of the familiar sadness that could be all-consuming.