[For Guy] Backdated to the evening of December 1st

[poetic_apostle]

Julian had spent most of the day outside, but not to enjoy the snow as he'd first planned. He'd realised once he arrived at home that if he went in he would have to tell Nessa what had happened, and he wasn't ready for that yet. So he'd made his way to the compound, both hopeful and terrified that he would run into Anthony again. He hadn't, and

Comments

[patriotqueen]

But Guy still prefered the cave over the Compound - and whoever said it was cold was a snarky whining art critic. He found Julian with his face in the dark, looking at the grand Poussin (which thank heavens Anthony didn't need relocated to a more suitable climate, for Guy would have suggested one of Mr. Blunt's orifices as highly suitable). He smiled to the thought and didn't see the poet was shedding tears. "Julian. Hello." He greeted.

[poetic_apostle]

Julian's head jerked up as he was abruptly made aware he was not alone. "G-Guy," he choked out, too miserable and heartbroken to even be embarrassed at his sorry state. He wiped his sleeve over his raw, red cheeks but it made little difference. The tears didn't stop, nor did the ache in his chest.

[patriotqueen]

As Julian's head jerked up it received light and Guy saw the poet's state. "Julian?" He rushed over, but as always stopped at a small but comfortable distance. He looked down. "What's wrong?"

[poetic_apostle]

Julian shook his head, uncertain he could even manage words. His shoulders shook with quiet sobs and he finally whispered, "...he doesn't love me." God, the words hurt to speak, hurt more than he'd thought possible.

He curled up, miserable and aching and empty.