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Julian stood on the circus's stage, basking in the rippling applause. He looked around, hoping to thank Mr. Cameron for letting him on stage, but the host was nowhere to be seen. He glanced back at the audience, but they were already starting to disperse, and the stagehands were entering to clear away the equipment. He hurried away before Jacques could spot him and throw him out.
Julian wandered the halls of the tower, heart racing as he thought back on the last few hours. He had been so scared when he couldn't find the cricket: scared that the poor insect was dead, scared that he would ruin the show. Scared that he might actually get fired this time. He decided to do a little cleaning; that always helped him calm down.
"So, are you ever going to think about what's really bothering you?"
Julian jumped, but relaxed when he realized the voice was coming from his own head.
"What're you talking about? I don't wanna get fired. You've said it yourself, what'll I do to eat if I don't work here anymore? I mean, I can find another job, probably. I do really like it here though."
"Why?" his narrator asked coyly.
"I love the show, you know that!"
"Oh, is that it?"
"God, can you just say whatever you're gonna say?" Julian said, frustrated. He was too tired to sift through the deeper meanings of his subconscious: he much preferred when his subconscious came out and told him directly, as it was prone to do. But his mind was quiet as he continued making his way through the tower.
"Thanks a lot."
Julian soon reached his destination and emerged onto the top observation deck, one of his favorite places in the tower, besides the broadcast ballroom itself. He was surprised to see Mr. Cameron already standing there, just as he had been early that morning during the search for the cricket.
Julian took a few hesitant steps forward. When John didn't react, he walked over to see if the man had fallen asleep leaning against the railing.
"Mr. Cameron?" he said softly. John turned his head slightly to look at him and sighed.
"Oh. It's you."
"Yeah."
John didn't say anything else, just went back to gazing out at the city skyline.
"Are you okay?"
John sighed again. "Look, kid, I'm sorry about this morning. I was tired and stressed, okay? The things I said... me, not knowing where the acts come from." He laughed. "Can you imagine! Anyways, none of that is your concern. I'm fine."
Julian looked concerned. "Are you sure? I mean, you seemed pretty serious about that stuff."
"I wasn't."
"Oh."
They stood in silence, Julian still holding a mop and bucket. A cool wind blew across the deck, and he shivered. John's mouth twisted.
"You should go inside. It's been a long day, and you didn't get to sleep backstage like I did."
Julian shrugged and set his equipment down, not moving from his spot at the railing.
"I'm serious. I can't have you dying from chill or exhaustion."
Julian shrugged again.
"For god's sake..." John looked down at his already dirty and wrinkled jacket. "Well, I'm sure you can't do any more damage than has already been done." He removed the jacket and held it out to the janitor.
Julian took it warily. "Oh... are you sure? It's not really my color."
"What's wrong with teal?!”
"Never mind." Julian hastily put the jacket on, which engulfed his small frame. "Can I stay out here now?"
John rolled his eyes. "By this point I think it's clear that I can't make you leave."
Julian giggled. "I guess so." Some lights twinkled on the horizon and he gazed out at the city he loved. He felt at peace: warm, happy, and in, well, decent company.
"You two seem to be bonding quite nicely. Are you enjoying your time with Mr. Cameron?"
"Fuck!"
John looked extremely shocked. "What did you just say?"
"Nothing, sorry." John returned to his silent contemplation, still looking concerned.
"You're gonna mess this up!" Julian thought.
"Oh, are you finally admitting that you have an actual goal here?"
"No! I still don't know what you mean!"
"It's obvious, isn't it? The janitor has a little crush on the radio host."
"What?!" He scooted a little closer to John, who didn't seem to notice. "No I don't!"
"You're wearing his clothing."
"He gave it to me! It's warm, and it smells nice."
"Smells like him, you mean."
"I- I don't have a crush!" Julian thought, clenching his fist.
"It's perfectly natural, Julian. John Cameron is an attractive man."
"He's not!"
"Well, now you're just being contrary for its own sake. For such a clever little man, you're woefully un-self-aware."
Julian's mouth tightened. John was openly staring at him now.
“Can you just leave me alone? We’ve been standing here for a while and he hasn’t tried to strangle me or anything. I just wanna enjoy it.” Julian waited for a response, but got nothing. Satisfied, he turned back to his companion, who quickly turned away, acting as if he had been staring intently at the city the entire time.
“Mr. Cameron? Why are you out here?”
“My god, can't you enjoy the view without talking for five seconds?” John shook his head, though his words sounded more fond than anything, relieved that Julian had released his death grip on the railing.
“Well I, I just, you said you’re okay, but you’re kinda just standing out here by yourself, and I was just wondering why.” Julian twisted his hands nervously.
John sighed. “It’s… it’s quiet. Sometimes I just need to get away from the anxiety of the show. Sometimes I need a place to rant about my life.”
“Well, um, maybe if you wanted someone real to talk to, you could talk to me? Rant to me about stuff? I wouldn’t mind, really.”
John laughed. “I don’t know how much help that would be, since most of my ranting nowadays seems to be about a certain person doing certain things like, I don’t know, ruining openings and losing crickets.”
Julian’s face fell.
“No, er, not like that. You- god, you cause me stress, of course, but, well. In the long run, you’re certainly not at the top of my list of problems.” The janitor still seemed upset, and John looked to the sky, silently begging some invisible deity to help him converse like a normal person for once in his life.
“Just- oh, screw it.” He reached out quickly and drew Julian into a tight hug, their second in only… an hour, at most? It felt like so much longer.
The hug itself seemed to last forever, neither of them seemingly willing to let go.
“Oh, I see now, you don’t like him at all. How silly of me.”
Julian’s eye twitched, the narrator shattering his perfect moment. “He hugged me,” he thought furiously. “And, and earlier too.”
“Not to be cliché, but you do seem to be hugging him back.”
“I just wanna hug someone, ok? You can't really help me with that.”
“Hmm. I still don’t seem to be buying it.”
His fist clenched, brow furrowing. John noticed none of it, lost in his own world of sleepy content. Julian took a deep breath, trying to regain the peaceful feelings of a moment ago. There was a wonderful smell in the air, something sweet and flowery, putting him at ease.
“Ah yes, his perfume is quite lovely, isn't it? I’m surprised you’ve only just consciously noticed it, you’ve been enjoying it this entire time. Or, well, perhaps surprised isn't the right word.”
“Ugh, fine. If you won’t listen, I’ll prove it you, ok? You’ve already ruined everything. And it’s not like he really likes me anyways.”
Julian lifted his head, spurred on by his frustration. Without stopping to think about it further, he leaned up towards John’s questioning face and kissed him, staring directly into the host’s eyes. He immediately moved to pull away and flee, forgetting the man still had his arms wrapped around him. He stood stiff, lips only inches from John’s.
John’s mouth was open slightly, his eyes wide. “Well, that was… sudden.” He didn’t say anything else, but didn’t release the janitor either.
Julian wanted to apologize, or shout at the narrator, or do something, but he felt frozen, unable to move or speak. His heart was racing and he suddenly felt warm and flushed, even in the cool night air. Suddenly suffocating in the heavy, sentiment-filled jacket, he quickly pulled it off and shoved it between them. John looked down at it and then back up at him, eyebrows raised.
“Are you alright? You look vaguely feverish, should I see if Tish is still around?” He lifted a hand to feel the smaller man’s forehead, frowning. Julian pushed his hand away.
“I- I just kissed you, why aren’t you doing anything? Aren’t you going to yell at me or push me away or- or something?” His voice quivered and he felt dizzy, like the arms around him were the only thing keeping him up.
“Well, if I was going to, wouldn’t I have already?” John leaned his forehead against Julian’s, giving him a small smile.
“So you’re, you’re not mad?” He felt a glimmer of hope, deep in his chest. The narrator, silent this whole time, somehow managed to roll his eyes.
“Of- of course not! Do I look mad?” He sighed. “I’m sorry. No, I’m not mad. Look, what I wanted to say earlier was… you cause me a lot of problems, absolutely. But I don’t dislike you. In fact it’s, well, quite the opposite.”
“Really?”
“Yes, Julian, really.” John turned his head slightly, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Now, will you please put my jacket back on or go back inside?”
“Will you, um, come with me?”
He looked out at the city they both loved, a view most could only dream of. “Of course.”