JULIAN

There's tension when Rilee asks to speak with me. Not in the room, I try not to let it show that I'm somewhat annoyed with her. Landon's striking up a conversation that I know was agreed upon before she walked over to me.

She's grabbing my wrist gingerly, pulling me away. We leave the living room and head out to the patio and I'm laughing a little at how many conversations are had out here. That's the point of a deck, isn't it?

Rilee bounces on her toes, pulls her curls off her shoulder and ties her hair into a bun. I agree, I was tempted to as well, it was a sort of wet heat that hung in the air.

She sits on the banister.

Not on a chair, she sat on the edge of my deck next to a planter.

And she looks up at the sky.

"What's up?" I offer. It's dark now, a firefly buzzes by her bare knee, and brown skin glows under the light. She smiles at me, softly, closed lipped, it feels fake.

"Hi Jules."

"Hi."

"I missed you."

She's acting like there's no hidden agenda behind bringing me outside. Rilee wanted to talk, about everything and I'm sliding the glass door closed.

"How are you?" She asks.

"I'm good, how are you, Rilee?"

"I'm good." She shrugs. She's buzzing around the subject and I'm not keen on being outside. I wonder what they're talking about. Through the glass, I can see Paul finding his way to the couch.

Ben follows and they're making conversation. I realize that she's watching me so I step back.

I turn to meet her eyes.

Something in the small talk is making me nervous, she's being so cryptic. "Is that all?"

"No, I mean I just wanted to check in with you, so."

"About Wren?"

She looks at me then, surprised, "I mean sure."

"I don't think it's any of your business but nothing's going on."

"You can think that, I think you don't see what you're doing because you're angry at him but-"

It's patronizing, I wonder if she thinks it sounds better than it does but it feels like she's never respected me enough to have a straight conversation.

I lived in their place, I partied with them, I didn't know he was an alcoholic.

She partied with him, she knew it was wrong. And she's telling me that I'm doing damage?

"Rilee, I really respect whatever you think you're doing," I try. I can see her bartering, it feels familiar. "But-"

"Is it more?" She's asking about Wren, it's as neutral as can be. "If it's more you need to be honest."

"I love Paul."

"You can love someone and not be in love with them."

I'm so in love with the parts of him that matter that the parts that I don't... they don't matter. Not enough.

"I'm just mad at him. You need to be mad at him too. You think this is about Wren? You think it's because I don't love him? It's been going on for way longer."

"Im just saying you shouldn't bring the pixie to his show."

Deflecting, she's refocusing on why she's mad and avoiding the big picture. Maybe her loyalty to their relationship is what keeps her stagnant but from... anecdotal evidence, that is the exact thing he doesn't need.

"Because he's threatened by a friendship?"

It's silent.

"You don't think this is why he's drinking? Cause he's going through a lot and he can't trust you?"

It was careless, she didn't put any extra emphasis or offer any example, just put it all on the table. It wasn't supposed to be mean, just honest. She thinks I'm the reason he drinks.

"Rilee I think you need to reevaluate yourself."

"Excuse me?" She looked at me weird. She was confused but I didn't wanna bite my tongue. Maybe no one ever questioned their relationship but it's starting to feel off. She kissed him, she got him drunk, and she basically put them in bed together.

"What happened at the club, Rilee? Why did he end up with Izzy?" She didn't expect it, I could see that, her brows knitted together, a frown and then her face softened.

She closed her palms around the firefly on her knee, and watched it buzz around in between cupped hands, long nails scratch at the skin of her knuckles, she offers me no reaction.

"You kissed him."

She laughs. "Paul's gay."

"Yeah, Paul's gay." Maybe she forgot that she kissed me too. "And he's drunk so he's kissing you a-and then he ends up in bed with Izzy, explain it to me."

"They slept together because they were sleeping together, Jules." She rolled her eyes. "He's like that, you know."

"He's like that as a symptom of his alcoholism, Rilee. He's been celibate before, because of shit like that! You should have stopped him."

"He wasn't celibate, Jules, he just wasn't fucking you."

She looked like she didn't mean to say it. She looked apologetic. "That was super bitchy, I'm sorry, it's just..."

"I can't control him, you know that."

"It's your responsibility to not put him in that position."

"He was already drinking. He's been drinking since you left." He lied about that too. "He was really good for like two months." She shrugged. "But he's only drinking wine right now, he's getting better."

"You can't just wean off it."

"I don't think we can make people do things that they don't already have the intention of doing."

"Bullshit."

"Jules, I don't know why you're so cross with me." She shrugged. "I thought we were friends."

"I thought so too. now you're saying that I'm not good for him?"

"When did I say that?" I didn't have an answer for it but I could tell. Being so self-conscious made me self-aware and aware of self... she shifted. At some point, she became jaded.

"It's okay, you're his best friend."

"Jules, I think you're great." She shrugged. "I like you as a person... But if you're asking me for my advice because I never offer my opinion unless it's asked... if you're asking..."

I didn't know if I was but she answered anyway. "I think maybe you guys should just let it go."

I scoff, her eyes watch me. She doesn't need to speak more but she does. "Love shouldn't be so hard, you can love someone and admit that the cycle is toxic. I did."

"That's different your boyfriend was in love with Paul."

It was awful, Rilee simply shrugged it off.

"Whatever, Jules."

"I just mean that all of it was confusing, maybe your feelings for him are-"

"Excuse me?" Her face is shocked, she's visibly perplexed and maybe I was reading it wrong but something about that night just does not make sense to me. "Are you accusing me of having feelings for him?"

"Do you not?"

"You crushed on him. You kissed him. You dated the guy he lost his virginity t-"

"I supported you! I was a friend to you Jules." She sounded hurt, I really needed to get better at avoiding confrontation. "You're being really mean to me cause I'm telling you the truth and you don't like it."

"I'm telling you the truth too, Ri."

Maybe the problem was I couldn't live up to Brandon.

"He found him, Rilee." Every time. "He's Paul's Paul, you don't get that?"

It was starting to make sense. I could see that they didn't know how to deal with this when Brandon wasn't here.

She wasn't hearing me. She was shaking her head and it took me a while to get to it myself so I understood.

"Maybe he was meant to be with Brandon-"

"He was meant to be with you."

"He needs stability. And someone who knows how to deal with him —"

"And you think that's Brandon?"

"Maybe?" I couldn't see a good end for us and that was starting to scare me. "Maybe it's Izzy. Maybe I don't- maybe it's not me."

Rilee didn't seem to entertain that. She reached down and opened the cooler we'd abandoned out here.

Rifling through she pulls out two Modelos, and offers one to me in peace.

She cracks hers open with her left molar, swallows back some. That was ... the hottest thing I'd ever seen a girl do and her next words hit me.

"If that's how you justify the way you're acting with Wren..." She shrugs. I wonder if everyone's seen it that way.  "You're looking around, it's just not cheating, yet."

That was more truthful than I wanted it to be.

"I haven't seen you in a year, Rilee! You don't know what I'm doing, I've done nothing wrong."

She laughed.

"So if he greeted Landon how Wren greeted you, you wouldn't be upset? No part of you would be upset? If he-"

"He cheated on me." I try not to let it hurt cause I know it shouldn't. It's not my fault that he's spiraling, it's our fault for not being a strong enough community to force him back on track.

"With Izzy, with gin, with the bar and he's convinced you to be mad at me instead of him."

The problem is he turned Rilee against me while he's in there gulping back a Modelo.

"The problem is that he's drinking, Rilee. It's not me or us. He's trying to shift the conversation and make himself small in the face of it and that's why he keeps drinking. You're not holding him accountable and so you are enabling him."

I try not to get angry but I see him holding a beer.

"I'm sorry about keeping it from you, Jules."

"You should have been honest with me."

She looks at me now, tilts her head. "Why?"

It's soft, genuine. Her features scrunch up and she looks so incredibly sad.

"He deserved to be seen that way," she's looking over at the glass door. "Perfect, happy... sober... it's not a good enough reason to keep him from being loved. He loves you..."

"... He's functioning so he doesn't think it. It's not him." She says.

"It's everything else, Frecks, it's not who he is."

"I don't even know what that means."

She sighs, heavy.

"They found the guy who assaulted him..." wow, "there's two other victims so they're taking it to trial."

That left me speechless, I wonder how long he's known.

"He's avoiding the trauma. All we can do is remind him it's not who he is." She shrugs. "If you try to control him he's just gonna buy a plane ticket to Spain and go on a binge."

"I've tried to stop him a bunch before, Jules we all have. He snaps out of it." She looks genuinely sad, like my words really hurt her. "It's never been this long..."

"Call Brandon." Maybe Brandon's his Benji too.

"Dude-"

"Dude. Call him."

-

"And you keep bringing up Izzy to what? Shift blame from you planning on spending my exhibit with some fucking twink!"

Paul's embarrassed, it's clear in the way he's trying to keep his voice down. He's scoffing at the look of confusion I give him. He's trying not to fight again, trying to avoid the blowup, it feels all too hard.

It's halfway there, the spark, just needs a little more wind.

"This is about Wren?" It wasn't, he knew that. He had to know that. I tried not to fan flames. "Not about your sobriety? Not your decisions?"

Not the gala gang that went out every single night? Not Rilee who blames me because she can't be mad at you? This argument is only happening because she made some comment about Wren, and Paul knows it too.

And we're talking about Izzy again.

Izzy talks to me. I forget that even though we text nearly every day, it's almost always about this. Everything kind of runs together when we're not caring for ourselves, huh? After the hotel, I reached out, needed to know how often Paul ended up around his in that week before.

I wasn't sure why but Isaiah kinda made it easy to talk.

We're talking, and for some reason, I feel guilty and that's not fair. He always makes me feel guilty- no. I assign that feeling to myself, I know I feel guilty because of me, my actions, even if innocent were still hidden.

Talking, getting to know each other, it felt organic. But it didn't feel like friendship, I didn't think it could with how attractive I found him. The anger, the hurt kept me from seeing it but fondness was becoming apparent. He was cute, pretty pouty lips, thick brows, pretty face, clean nails.

And I'm meeting up with him, that could be bad.

I just think he's cute. We've only met up twice. It's innocent and I wanna tell him.

But he's harping on about Wren and now we're fighting about Wren and honestly, I can't keep up but I can't let him forget that he shouldn't be drinking. We can't leave this conversation with another fucking impending conversation.

He's lost.

"It's Wren's fault that you bought and drank half a bottle of merlot? ... you can't pretend that all this is about Wren."

"It's about you."

"I didn't do anything. So, it's about Wren." I reminded. "And it's fine that it is, we can talk about that."

"I don't want to talk, Jules!"

"He's my friend, I'm not gonna drop him so we're gonna talk about it cause-"

He's crying now, one or two tears, it's angry and he's wiping his face with his sleeves and his skin is so red he looks a mess. "You can't be mad at me for how people react to you being all over him."

I was not.

"So you leave?"

"I didn't wanna watch you flirt over breakfast, Jules, sue me."

"But that doesn't even make any sense! You-You're at the studio all day with your phone off and you're worried about what I'm doing? You expect me to believe that?" I try to keep my feelings out of it, try not to sound selfish but the way he's shifting blame feels intentional.

"Yyyou're stuck in this apartment, and you're drinking a whole bottle of wine and you can't talk to me about it so you hurt me... I'm that horrible to be around?"

"Jules I keep saying that I don't wanna fight!"

"We're already fighting."

Brown eyes are wet, his arms are wrapped tight around his own torso, and he's defensive. "How he came in, you think that's okay?"

He's talking about the jumping, the arms around my neck, kissing my cheek.

My back stiffened, I caught him quickly, bodies colliding. He pulled back with a smile, some slight confusion. We'd never really not touched. I suddenly felt more nervous, it hit me when his hand slid across my wrist and I had to cough to avoid contact.

Wren was touchy, and in all the chaos of moving home and ... everything, I didn't remember if I told him that Paul and I were back together.

I wasn't really sure if we were.

This conversation felt like a joke at this point. Everything shifted at the hotel, and then it was like he got confirmation that I wasn't gonna leave him and he ran with it. We barely talked.

In all honesty, it was a mistake.

But it felt good, the jealousy felt validating almost. Like he cared about me again.

I hated that but being honest with myself allows room for growth and active decision-making on my part... Wren was excited to see me and it felt good.

I tried to correct it. I introduced them, just the name made Wren's eyes blow wide and he didn't try to hide his embarrassment. He owned up to it, something I found admirable about him, were we not meant to find admiration in others? I learned that in my cultures class, and in my philosophy classes. I learned that from life, often.

I'm meant to foster relationships with people... that makes me better, Wren actively makes me better. I knew there would be tension at first but he was always really good at diffusing situations.

He apologized. He introduced himself to everyone and he gave a little bit of conversation until Ben had the guest room set. We hung out for a few hours until people trickled out and then Paul and I went to sleep in silence.

He wasn't there when I woke up. He didn't answer when I called.

He's been home painting all day and yet this piece sits idle. That same red he's been painting with, no contrast, not a line.

There's nothing going on. "He lives in California."

"What is that supposed to mean? Him living in California." He's pouring another fucking glass.

I try to diffuse, try to think about how Brandon would handle it... that leaves a sour taste in my mouth.  "He's a friend. I'm sorry I didn't realize it would be contentious, you've had friends before."

He's drinking again though, in my face. Like that beer yesterday, it pisses me off. I stay still.

"The difference is I didn't invite them to sleep over when we're fighting!" There are tears in his eyes and it's sad. It hurts me. "I've only had eyes for you, it's embarrassing. You embarrassed me in front of all of our friends, Jules. I-I tried not to make it weird b-because I know he means a lot to you but Rilee-"

"Blames me."

"She noticed. Everyone noticed."

"I'm not doing anything, I don't think of him that way, I-" That sex dream about Izzy plays over in my head. I try to ignore it, it feels weird, my skin's hot. "You said it was fine that he visit." Explicitly. "Maybe you forget that 'cause I asked you again at the hotel. I should've known you were drunk, we haven't talked like that in..."

Years. He hasn't opened up like that in such a long time, Rilee was right when she said I should have noticed.

"I can't change my mind when he's all over you, J?" It's paired with softer eyes. It's almost cute how upset he gets over this. I try to remind myself how much I love him. His voice is accusatory. "I would never do that to you." He did that with Brandon.

"I was friendly but I was not all over him, that's hyperbole."

I could have done less, I admit that. He doesn't deserve that comfort though, not with how he's been reckless with me. I was flirting, very minimally. He's been playing with me for months.

"Whatever."

"Luis, I love you. And I'm trying, I've been trying but I don't understand why you're trying to make me feel bad for having a life when you left me —"

"Then leave again, that's what you're good at."

That's the exact reason why we run in circles. The cop-out, the 'you don't have to deal with this, you're choosing me so you can't complain when I bite you.'

I used to do that and I'm seeing us, I'm seeing that scared conversation we had in the airport in 2015. I'm seeing every conversation we've had, his eyes, I'm seeing them change.

He's not there. "You don't just get to back out —"

"What do you want me to do?"

"Absolutely nothing, exactly what you've been doing."

"I've been working!" On art, not on yourself, not on getting better.

"You can't just disappear! Y-you asked me to leave you alone for two weeks. You ignored me on my birthday!" You made me feel crazy for being upset about all of it. "You said you weren't ready for anything serious, am I supposed to wait at your feet?"

"I have to take care of myself."

"It's been months! You're not taking care of yourself!" My voice is high pitched, shrieking almost, he's taken back.

He steps back.

He's brought me to tears and only now is he trying.

"... I'm sorry."

"..."

"Jules, I'm sorry... I'm just-"

"I-I let you handle it your way but we're going in circles and I can't do this anymore."

He can feel that it pierces the wall a little bit.

"Last night was the first time you'd seen Rilee and Landon in... you left me. I woke up and you weren't there and you were so... I got scared, P, I'm still scared -" How doesn't he get that?

"I don't wanna feel guilty all the time." He laughs, that laugh he does when he's holding back. I don't want him to hold back anymore. "I don't deserve to feel guilty all the time." He's projecting.

And "You're still avoiding the conversation."

"We're having a conversation, we're always having a fucking conversation-"

He seems so angry, it kills me. I remain hard.

I try to give him some of that blame I've felt. He won't take it.

"You're not taking accountability. For anything. You're being selfish. You're being rude—"

He laughs. It's bitter.
"I'm treating you how you treat me."

That's not true.

"You see how you're cutting me out again? How you're choosing to not work this out right now -"

"I don't want to see you! I need space! What don't you get about that?" His voice is shrill.

"Space always means a bender?"

He's being sarcastic by rolling his eyes and swallowing back that glass like it's water. I'm seconds from snatching it away.

"I can give you space but you're here alone and it's not helping, it's only making everything worse."

"You called me weak but you're projecting. This," I'm motioning around, "is weak. Cowering and hiding, and drinking is weak."

I'm over it.

Rilee told me to let him do this himself but he's holding that fucking glass again eyes on the bottle and I've had enough.

I'm walking through the living room now, grabbing the bottle. He's perked up immediately and he's watching me but I'm walking into the kitchen, picking up the other one on the counter, uncorking them.

Paul's in a rush following me when he hears I'm pouring the wine down the sink. All of it. He's standing there fuming.

He's pulling my shoulder for a second, the sink's on, and washing it down the drain, he slides between me and the sink.

He breathes so angrily into my face. He's grabbing the bottles from me, and throwing them into the sink, they clunk, I swear they'll shatter. I had never seen such seething rage. "Get out."

He turns off the faucet.

And I'm squeezing past him to open the cabinet under the sink and he's pushing me back. He's pushing me hard hands on my chest now, face in mine, eyes afire. I don't have it in me to shake. He's trying to intimidate me, I've never seen that on him and I hate it.

I hate the feeling of tripping over my own feet almost, the fact that I have to grab his hands off me, I have to shake him.

I hate the whimper that leaves my throat and the way he looks at me after. My hip hits the counter, I offer no look, and I push past him.

I find what I'm looking for but he's unmoving.

He's not looking at me, his hands shake at his sides. I mirror him.

I offer a question, and it hangs in the air, this time it has more impact.

"That's it?"

He says nothing, and I'm trying not to rush him, I hold back my anger, knowing it can seem threatening - even despite the way I felt. I'm conscious of him because I know he's under all of this. "You're gonna put your hands on me over a bottle? That's where we are? Are you serious?"

"I don't think this is working out."

"You don't get to tap out when I have a fucking issue with you, you don't get to do that—"

"I'm not ready to be with you, Jules, and I told you that. And I tried to set boundaries and- I-I-I can't do it. I can't -"

"Ok then break up with me." It hurts. "But I am still your friend and I care about you and I'm telling you that you need some help."

"... You're isolating, baby-"

"No, you are trying to punish me." It's painful but he's deflecting, he's standing in his point because he knows he can't get out of this. "And now you're intruding and I'd like you to leave."

"Luis-"

"I-I can't change how you feel." He's hysterical, the wall is falling. I look in his eyes and all I see is pain. And he's stammering, he's choked up with tears, he's shaking his head, his voice is so hoarse. "I can't fix it, Jules, I can't fix the way you're looking at me right now."

"I can't explain it to you because you-You don't know what it's like. I can't sleep. I can't eat, I can't get rid of this fucking guilt and you're making it about you. You, it's always about you -"

"Then talk to someone who's not me! But bottling it up and acting stupid isn't gonna make it go away."

I recite Jade's words, I was pissed when I first heard them but they resonated.

"I just don't understand how you don't get my boundaries when you're the one always asking for space. From me." He laughed. Its angry and spiteful, "And you can't do this one thing for me?"

I offer nothing.

"You wanted me to talk about my feelings and now you're pissed because I'm actually holding you accountable for all the shit that you do to me? You just wanted to fucking dig all this shit back up because you wanted to make me— to-to feel bad for you. You're so selfish, Julian, and I'm done!"

It's a lot, I'm not sure he even understands himself.

He's walking out, he bumps my shoulder.

It's harsh, paired with my tight grip on his bicep as the he tries to brush past. Pablo's face is two inches away.

He doesn't have to say anything, just breathes. I can hear his sorrow in it. He's rigid, I loosen my grip.

"I'm not marrying a drunk." I let go; I let it go. "Get to a meeting."

-

"Jules, I'm sorry-"

"I don't care."

-

"Get off me."

"Jules-"

"I don't care how sorry you are if you're not gonna fix it.

If you're sorry, stop drinking."

-

WHEN THE MORNING COMES

"Fuck, I look awful." Bags, sore throat. Dead look in my eyes, I couldn't shake it. "What time do I have to be there- What's that?"

Jules is poking a weird fabric wand near my face and pressing some product out under my eyes. I flinch back, he taps his finger lightly against my skin, biting his lip in concentration. Our knees are pressed together, his knee between mine, the blushed skin warms mine as he blends under the other eye.

He blushes, turns to the side to hide it. Turns back and he's lifting his chin up for me to mimic. I'm mirroring, he's using a tiny brush to blend under my eye.

"Concealer."

"... You wear concealer?" I have never once seen him wear concealer.

He laughs, it's the first little chuckle I get. "I mean they're gonna touch it up but I had to not look dead showing up to interviews, it's all apart of your brand. I have a tendency to kinda wilt..."

He sticks his tongue out, pretends to croak. Cute.

I'm itchy. Instinctively, I'm brushing the feeling away when Jules intercepts it. His wrist sits by my cheekbone. Teeth pressed into his bottom lip gapped. I was gonna scratch my eye and now the hand that's not occupied is on mine.

For a second.

I ache for him.

I can feel the warmth, his leg hair tickles me.  Our calves brushed together, I jump out my skin, beautiful green eyes.

I cough. I try not to kiss him.

"I thought someone was here earlier."

"Oh." He bites his lip. He's reaching for another product in a little tote bag with a smiley face. "Um, Milo called."

"For what?"

"Um, your mom was looking for you last night. I-I guess he got worried."

"You should call your mom when you get a chance."

"Julian... I'm sorry." Extremely. I remember the fight, I remember pushing him. I see the little scar on his lip, I wonder if it's because of me. I can't remember, "did I do that?"

He's confused but then he's licking over his lip, he's biting it in that same spot, and shaking his head. That motion lets me relax. "That won't happen again."

He's still blending, it goes silent, no music, just breathing.

I'm gonna be sick.

He speaks first.

"Did you write a few things yet?"

I start shake my head, thinking better of it. "No."

"You should do that." His voice is small. "They're gonna ask you questions, so..."

"I still have to move the final pieces. I—"

"Ben offered his Tacoma."

  "What's this piece about?"

He's talking about the one behind us, the one I spent the early hours of the am on, the room still smelled like paint, i tried to paint landscape, then tried to paint cowboys, nothing felt right. Jules followed me to his that day, he came by around 8, maybe I missed dinner again or whatever but I showcase tomorrow... We fought for hours impending it all and he escaped just in time for me to let out all that turmoil onto canvas.

Black circular shapes, little people inside, screaming red. I think of painting a man in the forefront.

"Not sure. Migration maybe?... new beginnings." Death.

"And the collection is about..."

Death.

"My Abuelo, his journey moving his family to the states, I guess." I try. "He moved through Texas so I guess the westerns could make sense..."

The only saving grace I have is the labels we've been working on, those will describe the collection to the point where most interaction I'll have with buyers is just that... artist interaction.

I don't have to remember the talking points.

Jules does though, he frowns.

"Must've been lonely."

"Yeah."

He nods, he's opening up a powder now, pressing it to my under eyes with a fluffy brush. "So it's about struggles in migration and the pressure of being a patriarch? Cowboys were super masculine, right? What about how that affects identity?"

"Yeah."

"Write a bit on the primary themes and I'll proof it for you?" He offered, as always. "Mike said he was emailing you over some sample questions since it's too late to have a mock-up. We can go over those together."

"Thank you."

"Yeah."

I try to make conversation. "What did my mom wanna talk about?" I ask.

Jules isn't great at hiding his face, it drops for a moment.

"She didn't say." It's aloof, just as she is. I feel dread, I don't wanna ask.

So I say, "Okay."

"Okay."

"We should get to a meeting before we actually have to be there, maybe?" He tries, I can see the effort. I think what's the harm of sitting for an hour.

And then I remember the itch in my skin. It alights for just a minute, my feet are numb and I feel so fucking nauseous.

"The interview—"

"Is at three."

You said noon. It's 10 am.

"Dr. Thorpe says she has a colleague that has a slot open in his schedule. He specializes in addiction and is partially covered by most insurances."

At my look, he turns away, he's spinning in his seat and throwing his one brush, little concealer tube, and powder into his bag, I just know Wren gave it to him. "Just try it..."

He looks at the clock, "You have a pre-show call with Cleo in twenty. You're gonna tell her inspiration struck and you're moving the final pieces tomorrow morning."

He offered a stiff smile. "Press junkets run for a few hours after that. Athletes do them all the time, don't give them too much." He rubs some imaginary dirt off my shoulders. "You're such a good speaker, you have to speak from here." He pointed at my chest. "Thirty-forty-five minutes tops."

I nod.

He stands, he gathers his things, that's all the touch I'm afforded. I brush my hand against his and he pulls away so quickly it burns.

"I'm sorry, Jules."

Nothing.

I try again.

"I'm sorry I insulted you and that I spoke to you that way. I was hurt." That's not an excuse. "I took it out on you because I couldn't handle my own feelings. I'm sorry that I missed your birthday."

I'm following him now. He stops then, he falters, and he's walking into the kitchen.

I watch him pull the kettle off the stove.

He's filling it with water, droplets of wine still rim the sink, few scattered on the floor. It looks like blood almost.

I remember that night he cut himself up in my studio, I remember the pain in his eyes. "It makes me sick that I could do that." I try. "I'll make it up to you."

He's putting tea to steep, pulling two cups from an overhead cabinet, his hand lingers on the bottom cabinet under the sink. I want to hide from him again.

He sees it.

"Okay."

I'm nodding, it's a little but it's enough. I remember that look in his eyes.

I couldn't put him in that position again.

"We have to move this piece?"

I nod, I think better of it. "Yes."

"Any others?"

"Yeah, um— C-Carlos already moved them." My voice shakes.

"Okay."

I shuffle my feet, I try to make myself say it, knowing that if it sits in the air it's law. I'm held to it. "Um, we could go to Ebenezer Baptist, it's around the corner. Do we have time?"

-

I'LL BE THERE

"Welcome back to Disclose on Variety, it's Dana Colby."

Dana was pretty good at making me feel at home. I wasn't sure if Variety was just really good at pinpointing who would know who but I knew Dana. "I'm here with rising star and past-youtuber Paul Jones Martinez-"

"Uh, I'm signing with PJ actually." "But I go by Pablo-Luis."

I remembered meeting her at some party in Chicago years back. She was interviewing Landon's girlfriend so we met up with her at some MTV-Disclose event.

That had to be five... six years ago at least.

"Okay. Informal is my favorite way to interview, sick of suits." She nods, makes a motion to the camera guy and mouths 'roll it back.'

"Let's go again?" She wrings her hands out when I nod and rubs them on pinstripe slacks. Her pink blouse is just whimsical enough to scream Dana and still tame enough on the screen. Her hair is pulled back to a tight high pony with a flip and a mole sits on brown lined lips.

She's the definition of a pretty girl you just felt comfortable with. And she's the first black woman reporter that's self-made a multi-million dollar enterprise, she's badass.

Dana smiles at me again as the cameras start rolling and she's looking at the one over my shoulder.

"Welcome back to Disclose I'm your host Dana Colby and I'm here with, PJ Martinez, a rising star and mixed-media fine artist taking the Midwest by storm." She's looking at me. "How are you today, PJ?"

"I'm good, Dana, thanks, how are you?" I reiterate, finding it funny that the last conversation was completely striken from the record. "Last time we spoke was?"

She smiles wide as if thankful I made the shift in conversation smooth as possible.

"We did meet before, didn't we?" It's full of surprise and I feel almost embarrassed at how different I looked now. "At the MTV Disclose Event!"

"You were interviewing... I think it was Ben Walsh."

"Yeah." It's unreadable. "Good guy."

"I remember you had a dog named Bean?" I tried, her jaw dropped.

"You remember that? It's been like five years."

"Well, Ri had this huge crush on you."

"No way." "Cut that out."

"Friends, look," she's talking to the camera again, "this guy," I wave. "Snuck into MTV Disclose wearing a 'Save the Trees—'"

"Save the Bees."

"Save the Bees t-shirt."

"On the back it said 'for the Beegees.'"

"What?"

"Brandon was dating this eco-scientist."

"Obvi."

"Back to you, Pablo. You've been taking a break from social media for the past few years, you've been studying at SAIC?"

"Yeah" I let out a heavy breath. "Painting."

"That's intense, I remember my days there and my fineart major friends were so overwhelmed with the workload," if only she knew, "how did you manage to come out with an entirely new collection in such a short time?"

I'm trying not to shake but I can feel it in my palms, my knees are bobbing and they have been for a while. I don't feel too safe in my skin.

I smile, it's full of sick.

I try not to be sick on camera, try to choke it back. I know it's the withdrawal, it's the lack of a good sleep.

I know the nightmares will come back.

"I'm still not done." I remember to smile. I remember Jules attentive hand on mine, him encouraging me through an hour of AA. "Yeah, I mean it's rigorous and it's demanding but I've never felt more alive in classes. I'm actively learning how to just exist in this realm of creativity and the fear is debilitating but once you get it, like really get it... it's unmatched."

It's not entirely a lie, I can find joy in it. I'm thankful for this journey even if it means a raw throat from puking up stomach acid.

Even if it means eyebags and caked on concealer and the death of my relationship.

When I'm painting, I feel lost in it, it encompasses me.

The only thing that compares is drinking.

And Jules. But even Jules doesn't stop the ache.

"You grew up on the internet, LightofDay exploded in popularity around 2011, if I'm not mistaken, you were 16 when we did that interview?"

"Fifteen." I remembered Dana running into me after her interview with Ben Walsh -movie star- I was hiding from security. We were gonna make this big jump on stage during the awards ceremony and I couldn't find the rafters.

"Brandon and Landon Ross were really the driving force behind producing three videos a week. Rilee and I, we kinda went with the flow, I'd say but 2012, I think is when we got really serious about it."

"How do you feel managing such a huge internet persona at that young of an age, impacted you, do you feel it did?"

"A lot." I answer, honestly, "um, I was really shy before, I think it kinda induced some anxiety."

She nods, I think of how much I wanna disclose, "I mean, I was really young... I'm still really young for the level of exposure I have. I'm standing beside these buff athletic-dudes, and like... twenty-somethings at vidcon, it's easy to fall into the internet cesspool."

I think of Jules, how much I avoided any real events or pictures with the guys before him, if I could.

He brought my confidence up so much, he made it real, not just a fake smile I'd put on while watching the internet call me the ugly one or the fag.

"I think my boyfriend was really good at deflecting but before him, I, I would read comments all day. I would hyperfixate on how I said things. I was struggling a lot during that time, I'd have a panic attack like everytime we filmed so it was kinda hard to keep my head on straight."

Dana smiles soft, concern in her brows but she keeps a neutral voice, not too friendly.

"We wouldn't have known."

"Yeah, Brandon was really good at the editing." We laugh.

"Would you ever return to making videos?"

I don't know. "LightofDay was more than just a channel, it was me and my best friends making videos and people just so happened to tune in. Sometimes we forget the internet isn't so kind, unplugging has really helped me."

She nods.

"Yeah you've been ghost on all socials since August of last year."

"Wow you guys do your research."

She laughs. "Do you think that's influenced your art, specifically your upcoming exhibit?"

"Um, I think, I think this collection might have unearthed a lot of those feelings and allowed me to reconcile with myself and-and my past and my family is the biggest drive for me." I try to drill in, overthink the way Jules looked at me when we rehearsed these words.

"This collection is actually dedicated to my Abuelita for her resilience and in celebration of her life. I'm just really excited for you guys to see it."