100 Yellow Doors

june 6th, 2020, 2:12 p.m.

    He was nearly done with the bowtie when he noticed that Beck was shaking. Julien paused, unsure whether this was the sort of shaking that should be addressed or ignored.

    Finally, after warring with himself enough, he said, "Caulfield?"

    With a jolt, he realized that in another hour, Iman would respond to that name, too. The thought settled like a weird-tasting fruit in the bottom of his stomach.

    Beck took in a shuddering breath. "I'm...I'm really marrying her."   

    Julien let out a chuckle, finishing off the bowtie. "You're just realizing that now?"

    Beck tried to laugh, but when he took a step forward, he nearly staggered. Concern surging through Julien so suddenly that it hurt, he caught him, guiding him towards the window seat. "Jesus, you're burning up. Beck, sit down. Sit down, okay? Let's take a minute. Let's just—just breathe, okay?"

    Beck was breathing, however shallowly. Julien just stood there, watching him, until he was breathing at a usual pace again, until his chest wasn't rising and falling at a frightening speed. "You okay?" Julien asked.

    "Sorry," Beck said, hanging his head. "I must look so pathetic right now; I know."

    "No!" Julien exclaimed, and lowered his voice when he noticed Beck jump. Sighing, he sank down to a seat beside Beck, wishing just this once that Beck could see again, that he could see Julien's face. That was the thing about having a blind friend. Everything that left Julien's mouth meant twice as much now. "No, Beck, you're not pathetic. It makes sense. It's a big thing you're doing, you know? As long as I've been alive, I've never been brave enough to do it myself. It's okay to be nervous. I'm sure Immy's nervous, too."

    Beck hesitated a moment, then bit his lip. "You know something?"

    Julien didn't know if he wanted to know something. "What?"

    "Even after I put the ring on her finger, I was worried she'd choose you instead."

    A dart shot through Julien's chest. Half because of the words Beck said, half because of the dejected look on his face as he said them. "Beck, you're kidding," Julien managed. "She loves you like crazy. Trust me. I know—"

    "I know she does," said Beck. "But even that's not enough to stop me from being jealous sometimes."

    Julien sputtered, trying to find the right words to say in this situation, if such words existed. Beck lifted his head, his voice more firm than it was before: "I know I'm a massive idiot. It's cool. You can say it."

    Another burst of laughter, another wave crashing against the sand.

    Julien interlaced his fingers in his lap, staring down at where they rested rather than up at Beck's face. "What do you have to be jealous of?" he said. He thought of that one night, that one night neither he nor Iman spoke of. So what if he had discovered that night just how Iman's body fit against his, how her mouth tasted, what her hair felt like between his fingers. It was nothing. All of it: nothing. "You know what Iman wants even before she does, and vice versa. One touch from you calms her down like a snap. Any time she comes back from traveling, you know, you're the one she wants to see first. Even when you lost your vision, she didn't think for a second about leaving you behind. I can't even imagine having what you guys have, but you don't have to, because you just—you have it."

    Beck was staring at him. Sightless as Beck was, Julien could still feel his gaze burning against his skin. "Sera and I never came close to that, even before everything, when we first met and all. You have nothing to be jealous of, Beck. You and Iman have that one thing people spend their whole lives searching for. Of course she would choose you. She already has, over and over again."

    A breath of silenced passed; Julien listened, listened to Beck breathe, listened to the seagulls cawing ahead, listened to the vague footfalls of someone out in the hall. Even inside, away from the beach, the air still stung with sea salt and baked sand, both scents Julien had grown used to forgetting.

    A hand on his leg. "Jules."

    "J-Jules—?"

    "I'm very glad you exist," said Beck. "Thank you."

    Julien's mind was still very much short-circuiting from the sound of his nickname from Beck's mouth, but he didn't have much time to consider it before there was a heavy knock on the hotel room door.

    Fritz did not wait for a reply, simply shouldered the door open, gave Beck and Julien a risen eyebrow, and cleared his throat. "Jules?" he said. "Iman needs her escort."

    Julien swallowed.

    "Get up, both of you," said Fritz with a lofty grin. "It's finally time."