Page 49 of The Authenticity Clause
He mumbled an excuse to Elena and slipped out the gallery's back door into the quiet alleyway. The cool night air was a relief against his flushed skin. He leaned against the rough brick wall, closing his eyes, and just breathed.
He heard a soft footstep on the gravel and his eyes snapped open.
Julian was standing at the other end of the alley, illuminated by the soft glow of a streetlamp. He wasn't the CEO of Vance & Sterling. He wasn't the terrifyingly controlled man from the office. He looked… wrecked. His perfect suit was slightly rumpled, his tie was loosened, and the expression on his face was one of raw, gut-wrenching vulnerability. He was just standing there, waiting, as if he didn't know if he was allowed to come any closer.
The sight of him, so stripped of his usual armor, did what the grand gesture couldn't. It broke through Leo's numbness and pierced him directly in the heart.
(Julian)
Waiting in the alley was the single most difficult task Julian had ever undertaken. Every logical instinct in his body screamed at him to leave. He had executed the plan. He had delivered the message. The variable was now in Leo’s court. A logical actor would retreat and await a response.
But he wasn't a logical actor anymore. He was just a man, standing in a dimly lit alley, hoping he hadn't just made the biggest mistake of his life for the second time.
When Leo stepped out of the back door, Julian’s breath caught. He looked tired, overwhelmed, and so beautiful it made Julian’s chest ache. When their eyes met, Julian saw not anger, not joy, but a deep, profound uncertainty. He had dropped a bomb in the middle of Leo’s life, and now he had to face the fallout.
He watched Leo lean against the wall, watched him breathe, and knew that the next move had to be his. He took a tentative step forward, then another, until he was standing a few feet away, the space between them thick with months of unspoken pain and a fragile, terrifying hope.
“Hi,” Julian said. The word was inadequate, ridiculous, but it was all he had.
“Hi,” Leo whispered back. He wasn’t smiling. He was just watching him, his eyes searching Julian’s for an answer to a question he hadn't asked yet.
(Leo)
The silence stretched. It wasn't the comfortable quiet of their car ride or the charged tension of their first kiss. It was the silence of two people standing on opposite sides of a canyon, wondering if their voices could still reach across.
Leo knew he couldn’t have this conversation here, in a cold, public alley.
“My place,” he said, the words coming out before he’d consciously decided to say them. It wasn't an invitation to rekindle; it was a move to a neutral, private space. To his space. His turf.
Julian just nodded, a look of profound relief washing over his face.
The walk to his apartment was a silent, twenty-block eternity. They walked on opposite sides of the sidewalk, the physical distance a perfect metaphor for the emotional one. When they reached his building, Leo unlocked the door and led the way up the creaking stairs.
His apartment was tidy, but the evidence of his creative chaos was everywhere. Canvases leaned against the walls, sketches were pinned to a corkboard, and the air smelled of paint and possibility. It was the most authentic version of himself, and for the first time, he wasn't afraid to let Julian see it. He gestured to the lumpy couch. Julian sat, perching on the edge as if he were a guest in a foreign embassy. Leo remained standing.
He needed to hear it. He needed to understand. “Why, Julian?” he asked, his voice quiet but firm. “The gallery, the speech… why?”
(Julian)
He looked at Leo, standing across the room, surrounded by his beautiful, messy, brilliant art. He was no longer the sunshine employee or the heartbroken victim. He was a man who had rebuilt himself from the ashes, and he was demanding an honest answer. He deserved one.
“Because I was a coward,” Julian said, the words raw and true. He didn't look away. He forced himself to meet Leo’s gaze, to let him see the shame and regret in his own eyes. “I was hurt, and I was terrified. And when I’m terrified, I retreat to the only thing I’ve ever trusted: logic. Control.”
He took a breath. “What you did was wrong, Leo. The lie… it was a profound breach of trust. When I found out, it feltlike my entire world, a world I had finally let someone into, was a fabrication. It confirmed my oldest, deepest fear: that vulnerability is a liability. So I did what I always do. I shut down. I built a wall.”
“I fired you to protect the agency,” he continued, “but I erased you to protect myself. I was cruel. I was cold. I took my own heartbreak and I used it as a weapon against you because it was easier than admitting how much you had hurt me. And that was unforgivable. I am so, so sorry, Leo. Not for firing you. But for refusing to see the man behind the mistake.”
(Leo)
Every word was a balm on a wound he didn’t know was still bleeding. Julian wasn't making excuses. He was offering an explanation. He was showing Leo his own hidden world, his own fortress built of fear.
“I’m sorry, too,” Leo whispered, his own apology finally feeling real, not just a desperate plea. “I never, ever wanted to hurt you. I was the coward, Julian. I was so terrified of being a failure, of being… me. The real me. I was convinced that no one, least of all someone as brilliant and perfect as you, would ever want the broke, chaotic artist. So I created someone better. Someone competent. Someone I thought was worthy of you.”
He let out a short, humorless laugh. “It’s funny, isn’t it? I spent all that time pretending to be someone else to get your respect, and in the end, the only thing you ever really saw, the only thing you ever truly valued, was the one part of me that was real.”
“The artist,” Julian breathed, his voice thick with emotion. He stood up, closing the distance between them until he was standing just in front of Leo. “God, Leo, yes. The artist. That’s who I fell in love with.”
The words hung in the air, a fragile, beautiful, terrifying truth.
