Page 31 of The Authenticity Clause
The old Julian, the one from a few weeks ago, would have felt a surge of anxiety so profound it bordered on a physical allergic reaction. His controlled environment had been breached. His routine was in shambles. His favorite mug had been used without authorization.
The new Julian, however, felt only a single, overwhelming emotion: a deep, bone-settling contentment.
He leaned against the doorframe, watching the beautiful, chaotic man who was currently setting off his smoke detector. Leo jumped at the sudden, shrill beep, waving a dish towel frantically at the ceiling.
“I was trying to make you breakfast!” Leo called out over the alarm, a sheepish, flour-dusted grin on his face. “As a thank you for… you know. The excellent hospitality.”
Julian walked over to the control panel and calmly silenced the alarm. The sudden quiet was filled with the lingering smell of burnt carbohydrates. He looked at the mess: a dusting of flour on his pristine countertops, a splash of coffee next to the machine, the sad, cremated remains of what was once artisanal sourdough.
“My hospitality is generally less… flammable,” Julian said, his voice laced with a dry amusement that was becoming his new default setting around Leo.
“It’s the thought that counts,” Leo said, abandoning the toast and wrapping his arms around Julian’s waist, pulling him in for a slow, lazy kiss. He tasted of coffee and the lingering sweetness of the night before. “And the thought was: I want to see Julian Thorne eat a piece of toast that isn’t geometrically perfect.”
Julian laughed, a real, unguarded sound that still felt slightly foreign in his own apartment. “A noble, if ultimately unsuccessful, endeavor.”
He looked at Leo, really looked at him, standing here in the morning light, wearing his shirt, making a mess in his kitchen, and filling the quiet, sterile space with warmth and life. His apartment had never felt more like a home. He was observing his own uncharacteristic behavior—the complete lack of annoyance, the genuine amusement, the overwhelming urge to just stand here all day holding this man—with a sense of detached wonder. It was as if he were watching a stranger, a lighter, happier version of himself.
“I’ll make the coffee,” Julian declared, gently extricating himself. “You are on toast probation.”
The rest of the weekend passed in a similar state of blissful, domestic chaos. They went for a walk in the park, and Leo insisted on buying them hot dogs from a street vendor, a culinary experience Julian hadn’t had since he was a child. They spent hours on Julian’s couch, with Leo introducing him to a bizarrely brilliant sci-fi show and Julian introducing Leo to the quiet, complex beauty of a Debussy vinyl record.
Julian find himself learning the rhythm of another person, the comfortable, easy cadence of a shared life. He learned that Leo hummed when he was concentrating, that he left a trail of coffee mugs in his wake, and that his insights on character arcs in television shows were as sharp and intuitive as his insights on creative design. He felt, for the first time, that he was getting a complete picture of someone. The brilliant artist, the chaotic force of nature, the kind, funny, deeply perceptive man. He finally, trulyknewLeo, and the feeling was a profound and steady joy.
On Monday, the shift was palpable. When Julian walked into the office, Sarah stopped him at the door, her eyes narrowed in a look of playful suspicion.
“Okay, spill,” she demanded. “Who are you and what have you done with Julian Thorne?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Julian said, attempting to maintain a professional demeanor, but the smile he was fighting was a losing battle.
“You’re smiling,” she accused, poking him in the chest. “On a Monday. Before you’ve had your second coffee. This is an unprecedented event. Did you finally achieve world domination? Did you buy a private island? Did you… get laid?”
The last question was a whisper, but it was so direct that Julian felt a flush creep up his neck. “My personal life is not a subject for workplace discussion.”
“Aha!” she crowed triumphantly. “That’s not a no!” She sauntered away, leaving Julian feeling both exposed and strangely pleased.
The change was not lost on the rest of the team. During the morning meeting, he made a dry, witty joke in response to one of David’s marketing proposals. It wasn’t a planned remark; it just… came out. The joke was met with a moment of stunned silence, followed by a ripple of surprised laughter. He saw Leo across the table, trying to hide a wide, proud grin behind his hand, and their eyes met for a split second. The look they exchanged was electric, a secret conversation in a crowded room.
Navigating their new reality at work was a thrilling, high-stakes game. The office, once a place of pure, unadulterated focus, was now a stage for their clandestine romance. Every interaction waslaced with subtext, every professional meeting a chance for a stolen glance.
He’d call Leo into his office to discuss a “critical project update,” and they’d spend five minutes talking about wireframes before the door was closed and Julian would be pressing a quick, stolen kiss to Leo’s lips, both of them laughing like teenagers. The risk of being caught, the sheer audacity of it, was an exhilarating rush Julian had never experienced.
He found himself inventing reasons to be near Leo’s desk, just to catch a whiff of his scent or to see the way he chewed on his pen when he was thinking. He’d stand behind him, pretending to look at his screen, his hand resting for a second too long on the back of Leo’s chair.
One afternoon, he sent Leo a Slack message.
Julian Thorne [2:43 PM]The client feedback on the latest mock-up is in. They’ve requested a meeting for tomorrow at ten.
Leo Hayes [2:43 PM]Copy that. I’ll prepare the presentation.
Julian Thorne [2:44 PM]They also had one specific, non-negotiable piece of feedback they wanted me to pass on to you directly.
Leo Hayes [2:44 PM]Oh? What is it?
Julian Thorne [2:45 PM]They said you have a ridiculously nice smile and you should use it more often.
Julian watched as Leo, fifty feet away, looked down at his phone. He saw Leo’s shoulders start to shake with silent laughter. He saw him type a reply, delete it, and then type another.
Leo Hayes [2:46 PM]Tell the client their feedback is appreciated and has been… duly noted. Also, you’re a menace.
