He'd memorized the number well before he mustered up the courage to text it.
It had taken seventeen drafts before he settled on one that sounded 'okay', and even then he was still trying to nitpick it.
'Hi Myles, it's Julian. I thought about what you said. Are you sure you want these? You can have them. I can drop them off the next time I visit Atticus. It's okay if you changed your mind. I took some better pictures. Thank you, have a good day.'
He debated for hours if he should add emojis, if he should add exclamation marks, if the pictures were too blurry–if, if, if...
As soon as he sent the text, with four close-up pictures of a random assortment of pipe-cleaner flowers, he'd lain face down on his bed and hid his face in a pillow. His phone was limp in his hand, but held far away.
He'd spent so much time worrying that now he was just exhausted. A nap could have been in his future, but Myles was too quick to text back.
Dread flooded Julian with the first text message. And the second, and third, and fourth, in quick succession.
'Hi Julian!'
'Yes, please!!!!!
''They look so good! I will make time whenever you are available! Or you can leave them with him and I can pick them up'
'Also let me pay you please!'
Julian's body couldn't decide if it should be hot or cold so instead of picking somewhere comfortable in the middle, it just flashed between the two.
It had taken half an hour for Julian to text back: 'I would just be happy to have them not be thrown out. It would mean a lot if you can find something to do with them. But please don't tell anyone I made them. I can drop them off. Or mail them. Whatever is easier.'
Myles texted back within two minutes. Julian's stomach flopped again.
'Okay! We can figure something out! Thank you!!!!'
And so they had.
Julian had awkwardly wound up on Myles' doorstep with two bags full of colorful flowers, and a third bag of poinsettias and wreaths. The sky was grey, like it might snow later, so he had a good excuse to be here and leave quickly.
Not that Myles was at all intimidating, but Julian had already concocted a thousand awkward situations. It felt like disposing of evidence, like getting rid of something incriminating. In a way, it was. It wasn't like this should have been some dirty secret. He didn't know why it made him so anxious.
No one would have made fun of him for it. He just didn't want to have to explain it.
This wasn't art, not like the things Atticus could make. Not like his pictures or paintings or any of the other things he could do. It wasn't like how Énna made his nails so beautiful, like his fingers were ten little canvases to show off to the world. It wasn't like how Brooklyn could sketch or crochet.
Myles didn't ask, not really. Or, he did, in his own, off-track way.
When Myles first answered the door, he'd urged Julian to come inside. It was as decorated there as it was outside. There were lights everywhere. Despite the sun still being up, most of them were already on. They were bright and colorful but surprisingly gentle. The layout of the house was simple to follow, and very open. There were two ways in and out that he could see, and neither path was blocked.
Myles had set up a large work station in the living room, where he had tables full of candles currently cooling. The whole house smelled fragrant–overwhelming, but not unpleasant. Just, a lot.
Julian was full of compliments, which Myles eagerly and proudly accepted, and then promptly jumped into chatting. He was delighted to tell Julian about how he and Jeremy had decorated together, how he wasn't allowed on ladders, how they had to have shatterproof ornaments, how they had an elf-on-the-shelf but Jeremy hid it somewhere and Myles still hadn't found it. Julian didn't tell him it was on top of the fridge. Myles talked about how Jeremy was impossible to shop for, how he wanted to go caroling, how he wished very much that he or his brother could bake because they both missed homemade cookies...
In the ten minutes Julian was there, Myles offered him candles, eggnog, a sweater, cereal, more candles, a scarf, hot chocolate, and even more candles.
Julian had politely declined all of them, but upon Myles' insistence, he swapped his three bags for four candles, and only after Myles had assured him that there was absolutely no coconut to worry about. He even pulled out his recipes and ingredients to make sure.
Neither the house nor Myles were uncomfortable, but Julian was anxious all the same. This didn't feel like a trap, not by any stretch, but his mind wouldn't stop whispering all the ways this could go wrong. All the ways he could mess everything up.
He smiled while Myles spoke, and he heard the words–sort of–but they filtered in and out like the static from an old radio. If you'd asked him what Myles just said, he might not have been able to answer.
Myles was excited by the pipe-cleaners, in a way that Julian didn't really understand but appreciated all the same. A few times, he pulled out a random flower and gave it a look over. Every time, Julian held his breath, like this would be when Myles realized how poorly constructed, how ugly, how childish, they were.
Such words never came. Myles would hold one out and ask how Julian made a certain shape. He listened patiently while Julian stumbled over half-answers, until he finally worked his way into something comprehensible.
Myles never lost his patience, and instead just waited eagerly, like whatever Julian's answer was going to be was worth the wait for him to find the words. The 'sorries' were plentiful but Myles filtered them out.
Julian squirmed under praise like it was a precursor to scrutiny. Myles noticed. Softened it. They talked about flowers, and which designs were easiest. Which flowers Julian liked to make the most. If there were flowers he wanted to try making but hadn't had a chance to yet.
Those questions were a little easier. Julian liked making lilies the most. They had easy shapes, but in a moment of loose lips, he confessed that he liked making two-tone petals, or how he liked adding a few extra flourishes to them. Myles could tell. Of all of the flowers, the lilies looked like they were made with the most confidence, and there were far more of them than most of the others.
Poinsettias had climbed on Julian's list for the same reason, and Julian admitted that the wreaths were fun because he could twist the wires around his pen while he studied. The bag of winter flowers and wreaths were made with steady, albeit curious hands. Some of them had flat-backed plastic pearls or rhinestones hot-glued. Julian said those were for practice more than peace, because he did want to make personalized gift tags.
Myles loved them, too.
He invited Julian to the craft show, insistent that he'd find a good number of people very interested in his work. There were supposed to be a few thousand people in attendance.
Julian didn't have to decline.
Myles saw the way he suddenly stilled. The way his head dipped down, like he had to hide the way he couldn't make their eyes meet. The way silence fell on him like it was suffocating him.
He didn't make Julian come up with an excuse. He simply 'remembered' that Julian had final exams coming up, and asked if he had been planning to study instead.
The weight lifted from Julian's shoulders a bit; he nodded before looking up. The tension lifted only when Myles assured him that made sense, and of course his schooling was more important than a craft fair.
Myles asked if he could send pictures of the fair and give Julian updates, and for that, Julian agreed. He wasn't very good at saying no, and he'd already been difficult enough for Myles–who was helping him, really. It was a great relief to know he had empty drawers again. He had space to work. He could make more and not worry what to do with them.
Honestly, Julian didn't know if Myles could actually do anything with them. He didn't know if anyone would actually want them. But, considering the rest of the things he'd been quietly smuggling into the house, he was glad to have one less thing to explain.
Myles had been happy enough that Julian said he'd like updates for how the craft show was going. Julian had already insisted that he didn't want any sort of payment, but Myles had no intention of exploiting the young man's labor, whether or not he thought it counted as such. Myles saw the value in it.
Maybe Julian would, too.
They'd figure something out.
But for now, this was enough.
Julian left with a few more words of gratitude, which Myles matched enthusiastically.
It hadn't started snowing yet, but the sky remained dark with threat.
Julian had a few more errands to run before he went home, and he had to get ready for the weekend.
Studying wasn't the only thing on his mind. He had a lot to do, and not a lot of time to do it.
