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John Cameron staggered into his dressing room, Julian following close behind. He collapsed onto the couch and took a deep breath.
“Julian,” he said, closing his eyes. “Please, please tell me you saved the cricket.”
“Yeah, I did, Mr. Cameron. I put it back in its cage and made sure it was far away from the orkestral and everything.”
John exhaled in relief. “Oh thank God. I hope you know how lucky you are that you did. You would’ve been out of a job for sure this time.”
“I know.”
John rubbed his face, exhausted. “Well, no matter, what’s done is done. You can go home now.”
Julian shifted on his feet. “Are you sure? I could, you know, I could just clean the cages again, or, or I could sweep the- “
“Julian, for God’s sake, please, just go home.”
“Oh, ok, I guess. But I mean, if you need anything, I’ll be right downstairs.”
John sighed. “Julian, what part of ‘going home’ do you not understand? Leave. Just leave the building.”
Julian laughed nervously, twisting his hands together. “I know, Mr. Cameron, I’m going home, although I dunno why you’re telling me to leave the tower…”
John opened one eye. “What did you just say?”
“Well, I’m just, I mean I’m just confused why you want me to go home and leave the tower when I live right downstairs.”
John sat upright, staring Julian in the face. “Julian, are you telling me that you live in the Eiffel tower? How the hell do you manage that?!”
Julian scratched the back of his neck. “I live in the janitor’s closet, duh, where else would I live? I’m the janitor.”
“Shit,” John muttered, shaking his head. “Why?”
Julian shrugged. “I dunno, I like it here. I like being close to the show. And it’s not like I can really afford an apartment or anything. They don’t really pay that well here, heh.”
John groaned, dropping his face into his hands. “God, I’m gonna regret this,” he said, words muffled. “Julian, you can. Oh, fuck my life. You can have my bed tonight, and tomorrow I’ll have Leticia help you figure something out. Fuck, maybe you’ll even stop bothering me as much if you’re not here all the fucking time.”
Julian’s eyes widened and began to flick back and forth between John and the large four-poster bed in the corner of the room. His back hurt just thinking about the hard floor he normally slept on. “Mr. Cameron, that’s fine, really, I don’t wanna be any trouble- “
John snickered. “You don’t want to be any trouble. That’s funny.” He groaned and pushed himself up from the couch, grabbing Julian by the shoulders. The janitor looked shocked at the touch, but stared up into John’s face nonetheless.
“Look, kid, as much as I hate” (you) “to say this, you’re still technically an employee of the Orbiting Human Circus, which means that it’s our” (my, who else does any work around here) “responsibility to make sure that you’re being paid a living wage, which obviously, you aren’t. Although I have no idea how that happened, and I’m sure it wasn’t my fault, I’m going to have to be the one to fix it. And until then, I can’t in good conscience send you back into that disgusting closet. So, if you have any possessions, go collect them, and then get in the goddamn bed so I can go to sleep.”
John withdrew his hands and sunk back into the plush couch. He watched as Julian shook his head stiffly (presumably to indicate his lack of possessions) and, without another word, got into the bed. John’s bed.
“I swear to God, though, if you have lice, the cost of the exterminator is coming right out of your newly bolstered paycheck.”
“I don’t!” Julian said indignantly.
John humphed and lay back on the couch, clapping his hands once to turn off the lights.
“Mr. Cameron?” came a small voice, right as John was beginning to fall asleep. “Are you sure you wanna give me the bed? I can take the couch, if you want.”
John groaned with annoyance. “While it’s very considerate of you to bring this up after I have already settled in for the night, yes, I am sure. Now, I’m begging you, go to sleep.”
Julian said nothing else, but when John glanced over at the bed he could see a sliver of light reflecting off the janitor’s open eyes. Watching him.
John scoffed and rolled over.
He tried to fall back asleep, but his thoughts began to turn over and over, keeping him awake. What was the kid’s deal? (John knew Julian couldn’t be more than ten years younger than him, but if he ever acted like it John would eat his own bowtie.) Why did he seem perfectly content to live in a 4-foot by 4-foot metal box? Had John really seen him climbing on the outside of the tower that one time? Just who was he exactly?
John must've dozed off at some point, because when he opened his eyes again the wall in front of him was bathed in moonlight. He shifted, wincing as the buttons from his unremoved uniform dug into his skin. He sat up to take off his jacket and jumped when he heard a whisper coming from the other side of the room.
He was about to stomp over and tell Julian to shut up, maybe even kick him out, when the janitor let out a soft sob. John quietly lay back, listening closely.
"... just like my dad. And I was in Paris, and I, I didn't know anybody. I didn't have any money or anything, that all went to his show. So I just wandered around, being hungry all the time. After a few weeks some men found me who said they needed someone to clean their building, and the- the only thing I'm good at is cleaning, so I did. And they weren't very nice, but I made a little money, for food, and then when they kicked me out I found another place, and kept on doing that. And some nights I would sneak up to people's windows, and listen to the radio, and look up at the Eiffel Tower and dream about being on a show one day. But with my grandpa... gone... I knew it probably wouldn't happen. Until I got a job here. But Mr. Cameron still won't let me on the show, he thinks I'll ruin it, even though I won't. Yeah, I guess. I know. And now he's probably gonna fire me so they don't have to pay me more. Well, it's happened before. I know he hates me."
John rolled his eyes. It was just Julian talking to himself, the same old blather he often heard drifting through the vents when he was trying to fall asleep. And now the little bastard was trying to make John feel sorry for him. Did he really think he was gonna get fired?
Julian let out another small sob and John sighed; instantly the sounds stopped. John glanced over and saw the pair of wet eyes watching him again. It was hard to tell, but the kid looked scared.
They stared at each other for a minute before Julian started babbling. "I'm so sorry Mr. Cameron I didn't mean to say that. I, I mean, it's just in the past that, I mean I really respect you I promise, and whatever you decide obviously, but I just-"
He sat up. "I'll go back to the janitor's closet, I promise, and I won't say anything to anyone about this. You don't have to fire me or pay me more, I promise I'm fine the way I am. Really."
"Julian, if you leave that bed, I will actually fire you."
Julian lay back down.
"Well, ok, I'm not actually going to fire you, Julian. I don't know why you can't get this through your head, but firing you so I don't have to pay you more, or because you said something mean about me, are just as much labor violations as paying you less than a living wage, ok? Now can you calm down?"
"Yes Mr. Cameron," Julian replied, but his voice was noticeably shaking.
"Goddamnit." For the second time that night, John begrudgingly stood from his (really very nice) couch and went over to comfort the janitor. He sat on the edge of the bed next to Julian’s curled body and awkwardly patted his leg. He wondered if the kid had been in that position the whole night, if he was even capable of sleeping like a normal person.
“There, there… I suppose…”
“Thanks, Mr. Cameron.”
John sighed. “You’re sleeping in my bed, you might as well call me John.”
“Oh. Ok. Thanks, Mr. John.”
“Goddamnit.” He gave Julian’s leg a couple more pats, decided that was enough and moved to stand. A yawn caught him by surprise and he almost fell over in exhaustion.
“Mr. John?”
“What.”
“Well, I just thought, since, you know, you’re already here, maybe you could just stay in the bed? With, with me? I don’t mind, really.”
John scoffed. “Oh, you don’t mind, well that’s great to know,” he said, kicking off his shoes and crawling over to the side near the wall, too tired to truly argue. “I’m so glad I have permission to sleep in my own bed.” He flopped back onto the pillow and stared up at the designs on his ceiling, contemplating if they looked any different a foot over from his usual spot.
The two men lay in silence, interrupted only by the occasional sniffle, followed by John reaching over for a couple conciliatory pats.
He still wasn’t sure what to think about Julian: whether to treat him as a child or an adult, an equal or an inferior. The urge to protect was certainly there, for some unearthly reason. John thought back to his own childhood, comparing it to his understanding of Julian’s. Well, maybe that explained something.
He refocused on the body next to him: he couldn’t hear anything, but there was heat emanating from the other side of the bed, so presumably the kid wasn’t dead yet. Asleep, god willing.
His heart twisted a little at the thought that, going off his earlier monologue, this might be the first real bed Julian had occupied in, hell, who even knows how long. When John had first left home there had been a period of time where he was sleeping on benches or in doorways, but only a couple months at the most. Nowhere near what this kid had been through.
Normally he was unsympathetic towards the unruly janitor, but his reaction earlier when he realized John was listening to him… it had been disturbing, to say the least. The fear in his eyes had been indicative of deeper things, and John couldn’t help but relate.
He reached out and rested a hand on Julian’s side, scooting a little closer to make the position less awkward. Well, one long pat takes a lot less energy than a lot of short ones, he thought to himself, not moving. Maybe it would help Julian sleep better, he reasoned, scooting even closer. High altitudes tend to get very cold at night, and they were still on top of the blankets, he remembered, half asleep, curling up against Julian’s back.
A small hand lifted up to cover his, and John fell asleep.