Page 29 of Deadly Sights

As the hours pass without me knowing how many, I fall into a rabbit hole of research. Most articles are about obsessive-compulsive disorders, but I’m no psychiatrist to diagnose Julian. Also, the resources are for him to help himself, not what friends and family can do to minimize the triggering events that cause him to spiral. I’m so deep in my research, I barely register the tingling at my nape.

When it finally penetrates my concentration, I glance toward the door and gasp. Julian, the always put together, neat, and composed man that I’ve never seen with a hair out of place, is a disheveled mess, glaring at me.

“You weren’t where you were supposed to be. I searched and searched, but you weren’t there. Don’t you know what could have happened to you?” He throws a basket onto my desk, adjusts it then begins to reorganize my office. “What if they found you before I did? No, I’ll never let that happen. I won’t lose you again.”

A feeling of helplessness washes over me as he mumbles about never going back to those empty days of not knowing. When he’s set everything in place for the second time, I get to him before he starts again. With my hands holding his still, I wait until he meets my gaze.

“I’m sorry I left without leaving behind a note. Next time, I promise to give you a way to get in touch with me.”

The manic light in his eyes slowly returns to normal as my words register. “You promise?”

I surprise myself by agreeing and meaning it. Beyond my suspicions about his underlying motives, I thought Julian’s efforts were a way to get me to depend on him. Now, I realize the opposite is true; he needs me.

I pull him toward my desk, and he follows with little resistance. “Will you eat with me?”

He glances around the office as if awakening from a dream. Binders stack the shelves in alphabetic order, though if given enough time, Julian would probably empty the binders to organize the contents, color coordinate the binders, and match them by size.

“Julian?”

He swings around to me and glances at the basket he brought. “I made you lunch.” He empties the contents. There is a container for everything. “It’s a good thing I prepared all cold dishes. When I couldn’t find you at the house, Alastair ordered me to find you. Of course you hadn’t eaten, so I wrapped everything up.” Julian raises his head and stares at me as if a new thought dawns on him. “Do you think he just wanted me out of the house? If anyone knows what not knowing your whereabouts does to me, it’s Alastair.”

I twist my lips, imagining the scene play out. “From what I’ve seen of that man’s abilities, I wouldn’t dismiss the idea.”

“Right.” Julian nods and finishes spooning the rest of the food out. Once he plates everything, we eat.

I allow the silence to fill the air until we’re halfway through the meal. “Julian, other than giving you ways to reach me when I’m not with you, how can I help you? I still don’t understand what caused you to clean the house…the way you do.”

Will talking about the topic directly trigger him again? I don’t want that.

“Never—”

Julian stares unwaveringly into my eyes. “I was hoping to hide this side of myself until…”

“I fell hopelessly in love with you?”

A ghost of a smile flits across his lips before disappearing. “That would be ideal, but no. I was hoping you would remember something about me from your former life. I thought it would make things easier, but I’m not so sure now.”

“But now that I have seen you, what can I do to avoid sending you on another five-day cleaning spree?”

He sinks into the chair until his head rests against the seat back and he stares at the ceiling. “I don’t have many days like the past few. It used to happen more often when everyone I cared about disappeared without explanation. Nothing I did mattered or made a difference. Not that I could see, anyway. But when I clean? I decide where things go, how they’re arranged, and if they’re needed at all. I guess, being the person moving things gives me a sense of control I never had growing up. I thought I was managing pretty well, but then I saw you reading my letters…”

I don’t refute his claim that he was managing. Based on the new placement of the things in my apartment, I’d say his tics probably started when he saw me again.

“I expected you to disappear again. And it would have been my fault.” Julian straightens in his chair to pierce me with theintensity of his stare. “If you leave, I won’t blame you, but I don’t think I can accept it either.”

I round my desk to sit on his lap. His eyes widen from my surprise move. It’s the first time I’ve initiated contact between us that didn’t start with a knife throw, kick, or punch. I cup his cheek, caressing the stubble growing on his face, knowing it’s there because he’s neglected himself while immersed in his personal hell.

“I have a proposition.”

Wary suspicion enters his eyes.

“Shortly before you reentered my life, I’ve been having these dreams. I used to have them when I was younger, but not as intense as now. Regardless, I never remember much. Snippets of conversations, never faces. But after reading one of your letters, I saw a set of the most soulful golden-brown eyes so clearly, I felt they were in the room with me. I think they belonged to your younger self.”

“You had a memory?” Julian’s eyes widen in amazement. “What else can you recall? Was there anyone else with me? What were we doing? Wh?—”

“Slow your roll, Julian. It wasn’t clear.” Before disappointment wipes out his budding hope, I continue, “But that’s where I want your help. You don’t want to tell me about my life, but maybe you can show me the places we used to go, things we used to do. More than ever, I want to know who I was.”

He curves his hand around my scarred cheek. “When do you want to start?”

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