Any confidence Jonah had felt curdled and rotted like ash in his mouth. Because he was quickly realizing that Julian had let him think he was getting a handle on this when, in reality, he was so out of his depth that he didn’t even realize just how badly he was going to lose.
But it wasn’t Julian’s skill that tripped him up, although that certainly had something to do with it. It was his words, so pointed, so calculated, hitting him squarely in the chest with each sentence, that left Jonah truly and legitimately defenseless. There was no hiding from the truth that Julian was spitting into his face, and he was surprised by how much it hurt. When had he given Julian any reason to think better of him? What reason did he have to believe that Jonah was better than the sum of his parts? And why did Jonah suddenly seem to care so much?
It was because he thought he could get away with treating Julian the way he did because it never seemed to wear on his roommate’s spirit. But now, he was realizing, plain as day, that Julian’s unflappable nature had been a show, and this was what lay underneath. And it was Jonah’s fault.
He was disarmed easily and swiftly, and he didn’t even have the chance to be surprised when Julian kicked his legs out from under him, the wind knocking out of him as he slammed into the ground, stars popping in his vision. He lay there, breathless, pinned under Julian and the weight of his own guilt, shame, and regret, and he tried to find the will in himself to spit something mean back at Julian, tried to force himself back into the comfortable shape of his cruelty, but he couldn’t.
Instead, what came out, with surprising honesty, was a breathless, “I’m sorry.”
A long weighted moment. Then, again, louder this time: “I’m sorry.” Jonah was grateful that Julian couldn’t see his face, because he could feel his heart, this loud, incurable broken heart of his, welling up with emotion like a cup overflowing with water. “It’s… so hard to be around you. You’re everything I’m not, everything I’ll never be, and I cannot fucking stand to look at you because all it does is hurt.”
Given their position on the ground, they were close. So close his chest was pressed against Jonah’s chest, rising up and down against him panting for breath. Not that it mattered to him, despite what his curiosity chose to think about. He had to wonder what Jonah’s face looked like right now. Was he angry? Humiliated? Most importantly, was Julian pleased? The victor of match was obvious, yet the outcome wasn’t enough for him. His victory tasted sour. To be kind in the face of adversity was expected of him, but the cracks continued to grow and wrath begged to be released from its cage.
“Isn’t this what you wanted from me?” he asked, a challenging gaze quickly flicking down to where his sword rested at his throat while he straddled him. The weapon wasn’t sharp enough to cause actual damage, but it was enough to deliver a lesson. “One could say I’m finally giving in to you,” he added with a voice of honey, his words like a flaming arrow directed at his roommate. Eyes that never deviated from Jonah’s face, waiting for another fight from him as one would expect from Jonah.
Julian bit his tongue, debating if his admission was a ploy to trick him into lowering his guard. A dirty tactic, but he wouldn’t put it past his roommate given his track record. The initial shock had been immediately replaced by suspicion as he studied Jonah, almost as if his gaze would force the truth to appear. He was transported back to high school again, staring down the bullies that roamed the hallways. A persistent look appeared in his eyes, demanding for Jonah to prove him wrong. Since the great schism their junior year, there was a certain set of guidelines – expectations to be honest – on how their conversations to go, however Julian didn’t know how to attribute the ferocity he was sharing with his opponent.
In a swift gesture, Julian removed his hand on Jonah’s arm to remove his mask before he removed his own. Real men didn’t hide behind masks, his dad would say. Then again, his dad wouldn’t encourage him to pick fights with his classmates either.
“Since that Halloween party when we were second years, I always wanted to be your friend. You were uptight and closed off, but at the same time I wanted to get to know you better,” he started. The confession warmed his voice despite his impassive face. “I really tried. Honestly. I made sure to include you in everything whether it was a night out at The Anchor to movie nights in the common room. I even learned your favorite types of cheese, because I wanted to make it up to you. I just wanted you to like me so bad. Like I know I fucked up on that class assignment, but a part of me couldn’t believe that was the sole cause of your anger. But I am sorry for screwing you over that day, Jonah. I was careless and should had stuck with our plan. For that, I apologize. I shouldn’t have gotten caught up in the moment and tried to improvise.” Julian viewed everything with joy, however his love for sparring was unmatched. It was a lingering effect of the anxious teenager desperate to find his calling. As much as Jonah was the villain, he had to acknowledge the role he played in Jonah’s story. He owed Jonah an apology at least for their origin story. “When I heard you received a bad grade on the assignment, I felt terrible. I didn’t intend for you to fail the assignment, but I didn’t want to repeat the same mistake again so I worked harder on controlling myself.”
“When I found out we were roommates, I was ready to let the past go where it belonged. I mean it’s our final year at Alderidge and I want to enjoy it with everyone, you included,” he said calmly, taking a deep breath. A newfound frost blossomed from his chest. “But here we are. The truth is we both messed up, but maybe things aren’t meant to be better between us. Two years later, you still can’t take responsibility for yourself.”
