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When Jude first moved in with Harold, he thought he’d be sleeping on the floor.
Not to say he believed Harold would treat him poorly, if anything, Jude thought Harold would likely hang the moon for him if he asked, but if his past had taught him one thing, it was never to hope.
So when Jude found out that not only did he not have to sleep on the floor, but that he had a whole entire room to himself, he was overjoyed, to say the least.
Back in the monastery, privacy was a foreign concept. He did have his own bed, but more often than not, his nights were spent with Brother Luke and any other random strangers that deigned Jude valuable enough to use.
There was a time where he shared a room with boys his age, all of whom stole, broke or ridiculed any possession he managed to obtain. It was safe to say that the idea of having a space to himself was equal parts gratifying and terrifying.
“How do you like it?” Said a voice behind him, immediately snapping him out of his thoughts.
Harold was leaning against the doorframe, a small smile dancing on his lips. He could most definitely see the awe written plainly on Jude’s face, the obvious shock and elation. He probably thought he was pathetic for being so surprised over something as simple as a room.
“You’re not pathetic Jude. I would never think so.”
Shoot . He must have said that out loud.
“I-I, um, thank you Harold. I’m very grateful for all of this. You didn’t have to, I would’ve slept in the kitchen if you wanted.” He chuckled lamely.
He immediately regretted the words once they left his mouth. Why did he have to sound so stupid?
“Nonsense!” The elder laughed. “A room is the least of what you deserve. Julia and I were even thinking of renovating my study to give you some space to work, too. A smart boy like you needs all the space you can get.”
Jude was stunned into silence.
A study? For him?
“Jude,” Harold’s voice turned soft at his non-response. “Don’t overthink it. We want you to be comfortable, son.”
Jude’s heart felt like it was beating at the speed of light. Son . The word made his chest ache.
“Thank you,” he finally managed to utter, looking up at the professor with teary eyes. He didn’t know when his eyes started to water, but now, light tracks were trailing down the expanse of his cheeks. “This is amazing. I will do everything to repay you two—“
“Nope! Don’t even think about it.”
“ Harold .”
“Anyways,” Harold said, trying to divert his attention. “This room hasn’t been used in quite a while. It was actually my, um, late son’s room. I know it’s a little small, but we cleared up most of his things. If you find anything you like, it’s yours to keep.”
Jude was going to start sounding like a broken record with the amount of thank you’s he’s due to say.
Before he can get in another word, the elder pipes up again. “But we need to get you a new mattress. Jacob was quite the small kid, never needed too much space. You’re a growing man, you would probably fall off the bed if you tried sleeping in it.”
The bed was a single, too narrow for an adult. Regardless of Jude’s frail stature, he wouldn’t fit—it was clearly meant for a child, and Jude’s heart ached from the sudden reminder of how young Harold lost Jacob.
He promised himself to do better. To never replace, but to fill the emptiness of this space.
He smiled politely, bashfully . “A mattress? I don’t mind sleeping on the fl—“
“ No .”
“Okay.”
Harold was too stubborn. It was like talking to a brick wall. Jude guessed he shared that trait with him.
“Why don’t we grab some lunch outside before we go to the store? My treat.”
“Uh yeah—I mean yes. Let’s go.”
—
Lunch was quite the feast. It was spent in the nearest fast food chain parking lot, in Harold’s old but quite pristinely kept car, and Jude had never relished the taste of four dollar burgers as much as he had today.
“Already finished, son?” Harold asked, after Jude ate his portion in record time, and his heart threatened to leap out of his chest when he heard the last word again. It was going to take a while to get used to.
Their drive to the mattress store was filled with comfortable silence. He enjoyed how he wasn’t obligated to speak in Harold's presence—how the elder never forced a conversation on him. His time with Brother Luke was spent in anything but quiet, cries and screams tainting his memories with the abuser that he forces himself to forget.
When they exited the car, Jude was, well, concerned? The store looked like it was standing on its last legs, greenery growing over the crumbling red bricks of the two story building, and an entrance so small it seems impossible for him to fit through, let alone a mattress.
“Don’t judge a book by its cover, boy.” Harold said, and how does he always know what Jude is thinking? Jude smiled sheepishly in response, unsure of what to say.
They somehow maneuver their way through the growing weeds in the parking lot and in through the too-tiny door. Jude had to hobble a bit, grimacing as his limp leg struggled to twist to fit through. But once inside, Jude had to stop his jaw from dropping from how different it looked.
In contrast with the wreckage on the exterior, the interior was beautiful . Chandeliers, yes, chandeliers , were lit atop the array of mattresses, all enclosed within mahogany-coloured walls that looked far from cheap.
“Harold!” A voice suddenly called, boisterous and loud, and Jude turned to see an older man approach them with a wide grin. His hair was graying, but other than that, he had definitely aged well, his body lean and fine lines that accentuated his sharp features.
“Cyrus!” Harold called back, equally enthusiastic, before grabbing the other man in what can only be considered an intense bear hug. The two exited their embrace with a smile, fondly looking at each other.
Jude very rarely saw Harold be so comfortable around another. Not to say he wasn’t a charming person over all, but the people he kept close were limited. Jude considered himself lucky to be on the list.
The eldest’s gaze turned towards Jude, eyes lighting up, and Jude felt himself shrink at the sudden attention.
“And you must be Jude!” Cyrus said,
Jude wanted to smile in response and return the enthusiasm this stranger gave him, even if it was their first meeting. But before he could, the man dropped a heavy arm on his shoulder. Jude cursed himself for flinching—he hated how his body and mind betrayed him, how the warmth of Cyrus’s palm burned instead of soothed.
“Oh and you’re so skinny! Harold you bastard, have you not been feeding the poor boy?” His hand moved, and omg this was awful he was going to die and—
—suddenly the heat was gone, and Jude was brought back to reality. Harold stood in front of him, a hard look in his eyes. No words escaped, but the action was enough for Cyrus to back away.
Jude hated the look of regret on Cyrus’s face, hated that he was the cause of it. The elder probably had no ill-intentions, yet his trauma still had an unrelenting hold on him. He didn’t know what Cyrus was going to do, but his mind immediately jumped to the worst case scenario. Jude never learned how to think otherwise, his past shadowing his way of thinking.
A beat of silence passed before Cyrus spoke. “Apologies kid, I didn’t mean to startle you.” His voice was laced with worry, and Jude wanted the ground to swallow him whole.
Thankfully, Harold came to the rescue.
“We need a new mattress, either a king or a double queen.” Harold effectively changed the topic, reviving the mood with a kind smile.
“Or a single.” Jude mumbled, to which both men shot him a look that can only be interpreted as absolutely not .
They ignored Jude—wasn’t this for him?—and proceeded to walk towards the array of beds. Jude didn’t know, or frankly, didn’t care about which mattress Harold chose for him anymore. If he couldn’t change the elder’s mind, he might as well be grateful for what he would pick for him.
After the mattress was chosen, Harold became insistent on getting Jude a bed frame too. At Jude’s look of reluctance, Cyrus laughed and walked towards a wall adorning various shades of oak, cedar, and all other types of wood that he didn’t immediately recognize.
“We can get it custom-built,” Cyrus said, to which Harold agreed to. Jude didn’t protest, seeing as Harold was as stubborn as an antsy 5-year-old child, and just nodded in agreement.
Jude tried his best not to gasp audibly when he saw the price— were beds always this expensive? —and tried, as politely as he could, to give Cyrus his credit card. He knew it wouldn’t work, he hadn’t nearly enough money on it, but he didn’t get to find out as Harold raced to give his first. He won, of course, and Cyrus laughed, delighted by their drama.
But Jude did not find it funny. He had to pay back every cent.
“Stop worrying, Jude.” Harold said. They had arrived back home, and Jude was quiet the entire ride, silently contemplating how he could express his gratitude to the elder.
“H-Harold, this is too much. I can’t repay you if you’re so good to me.” He finally whispered, because it was. Jude didn’t deserve this, didn’t deserve Harold’s kindness, his money, his home—
“It’s your home too,” Harold answered his thoughts. “A mattress is nothing. I want you to be comfortable Jude. I want you to smile and laugh and enjoy life like every one else, because you earned it. And Julia and I want to be the source of your enjoyment, I want you to speak to me, when you’re ready, about everything, because I want to get to know you. Because you’re my son .”
Jude hated how his eyes started getting cloudy, tears threatening to fall.
I’m his son. I’m his son.
But Jude is still too scared to talk about his past, about the horrors he had faced at the hands of Brother Luke, the monastery, and every other nightmare he endured in his youth.
Maybe one day he’d find the courage, but that day wasn’t today. Today he just wanted to bask in all the love the received, but the overwhelming sense of guilt was eating him alive.
Harold sat on the couch, patting the cushion beside him. Jude followed, and noticed how Harold still kept a respectable distance away from him. They were close, but not close enough that Jude felt like there was no way for him to escape.
It was then that the tears actually started to fall.
Jude moved quickly, grabbing for the elder and looping his arms around his neck to cry into his shoulder. Harold mirrored his actions hesitantly, as if he didn’t want to scare him, and just the thoughtfulness of the gesture had Jude hiccuping because what had he done to get so lucky?
“My son, my beautiful boy,” Harold whispered, and Jude nodded, because he was his son, and he was proud.
They sat confined in a warm embrace for what felt like forever, but Jude didn’t want to leave. He suddenly felt tired, the exhaustion of today’s activities finally catching up with his body. Subconsciously, Jude snuggled closer, letting out a deep sigh when Harold ran a hand softly over his soft tresses of hair.
His eyes threatened to close, but instead of willing himself awake, he let them drop, slowly drifting to sleep.
Unbeknownst to both, Julia watched from the doorway of the kitchen, her gaze fond. Grabbing the throw blanket from the adjacent couch, draping the soft material over the two bodies. Jude shifted further into the added warmth, his face almost mushed into Harold’s sweater.
“My two boys,” Julia smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners, before sitting on the edge of the same couch, leaning into Harold. She carefully snaked an arm around Jude, bringing them all closer, and let her eyes close as well, one final thought on her mind as she succumbed to sleep.
My family is whole.