4 Julien
843 Words
When Michael’s bright blue eyes fell upon Julien he couldn’t believe that he was seeing him again. Maybe it was just someone that looked a whole hell of a lot like him. Exactly like him. Maybe Julien had a doppelganger and he had sought him out. There was just no way that Julien could be there, would be there if he knew what was good for him. Fear wrapped Michael’s heart. He was both afraid for Julien and afraid of Julien. He didn’t know how to explain the confliction or the other emotions he was feeling to himself. Julien, his sweet and beautiful, gentle and kind, tender and rough, innocently devious, precious little Julien. Michael blinked several times to clear his mind, but clarity, as it often didn’t when Julien was involved simply wouldn’t come to him. Memories of a time long long ago flooded his confused mind and hobbled him. They picked him up and ushered him on a wild journey into his past.
~He was looking out the window of his room, the room he shared with Grayson, watching the moonlight reflect off the pools left on the road from the rain. Grayson was resting quietly reading yet another book. Michael had no interest in books unless Grayson was reading them to him, only then were they even remotely enjoyable, there was just something about the deep rich tone of Grayson’s voice. It was warm and soothing, smooth like the silk from the Orient, and wonderful, magic. If Grayson read to him it was magic. But that evening Grayson was minding himself more than he was minding Michael. Which, unfortunately, left Michael to his own devices. So, he was looking out the window watching the moonlight reflect off the small pools that had collected in the potholes along the street. In the distance a lone traveler walked, his footfalls silent upon the cobbled stone he traversed. He seemed to have no particular destination in his mind as he walked aimlessly about his feet making a slow march down the street. Perhaps he had a purpose after all. Michael watched him as he continued to walk around below his window. His hair was dark, black, and kept neatly trimmed and styled in the popular style of the times. He didn’t appear to be any taller than Grayson was, which made him quite a bit shorter than Michael was. His build was as slight as Grayson’s but far less delicate in appearance. He had broad shoulders and long sturdy legs that carried him well as he walked.
Michael was admiring the fit of his clothes and the style of them when the stranger stopped and looked up at him. He didn’t just look up at the building and the open window shutters, no he looked up and looked purposefully at Michael. His rich brown eyes focused on him and held Michael fast where he stood. He felt exposed, tickled, and intrigued. His feet rooted him to the floor as he was caught staring by the stranger’s dark eyes while he was standing two stories below him on the otherwise empty street. Michael didn’t hear Grayson move, didn’t hear him set down his book and roll off the bed. He didn’t hear his booted feet as they quietly scraped across the wooden floor to see what and why Michael was leaking emotion, those particular emotions. They had disturbed him enough to make him move and concerned him more than a little. Brown eyes smiled up at the window, while blue eyes smiled down. Green eyes were far less appreciative of the view. “Come, let us find something to eat.” Grayson took Michael’s hand, closed the shutters, and led Michael away from the window and the stranger on the street.~
A small warm and painted hand gently touched his hand and drew Michael from his memory. He hadn’t let his mind wander that way in a very long time, but he found himself caught in his memories of Grayson more and more with each passing day. He looked down at the hand that was resting lightly on his. His eyes slowly followed the arm wrapped in blue crushed velvet over the shoulder and up into a set of rich brown eyes set in a spectacularly handsome face. Any thought of Grayson and the past that they shared was pushed out of his mind as Michael came face to face with the very reason Grayson wasn’t a part of his life any longer. It was no doppelganger that was standing in front of him, touching his hand. It was indeed the real thing. Julien Russo stood just inches from him with his hand gently touching him. Michael was too shocked to move, too confused to think, and too worried to smile. What was Julien doing at the club? Michael was surprised to see him after such a long absence and horrible parting, standing dressed elegantly in blue crushed velvet, his shirt hanging half open, an enticing yet worried smile dancing in his beautiful eyes.
- Writer
