Of course. Here's Chapter 20 of After
Chapter 20: The Quiet Hours
Hospitals always smelled like bleach and fatigue.
Julian hated it.
The fluorescent lights made everything feel sterile — too bright, too exposed. The beeping monitors, the too-thin blankets, the quiet footsteps of nurses gliding down halls like ghosts. It should've made him feel small.
But Elliot was always there.
Even when he wasn't speaking.
Even when Julian was too tired to talk.
He was just… there.
Reading in the armchair by the bed. Typing quietly on his laptop. Resting his head beside Julian's hand, dozing off with fingers loosely curled around his.
---
The first few days were the hardest.
Julian's body was weak, rebelling against him. Fevers came and went. Pain flared through his joints and bones. There were tests, blood draws, IVs. Medications he couldn't pronounce.
He didn't cry — not until Elliot helped him out of bed the first time and Julian's legs gave out.
Elliot caught him instantly, arms steady.
Julian whispered through clenched teeth, "I can't even stand. I feel broken."
Elliot tightened his grip, eyes wet but voice unshakable. "You're not broken. You're healing. And I'm right here for every step."
That night, Elliot gently helped him bathe — not because Julian couldn't, but because his hands trembled too badly to trust himself.
They didn't speak.
But when Elliot gently washed his back, his touch so respectful, so loving — Julian closed his eyes and breathed.
Not because it felt good.
But because it felt safe.
---
Over the next week, recovery became its own kind of ritual.
Elliot brought food from home — soft, bland things Julian could stomach.
He adjusted pillows. Massaged Julian's hands when they ached. Watched trash TV with him and pretended to care deeply about who won the baking competition just to make him laugh.
He even learned how to administer the injections when the doctors said Julian could go home.
"You don't have to do all this," Julian whispered once.
"I get to do it," Elliot replied softly. "I get to love you like this. Let me."
---
Once they were back home, Julian's world became smaller — but warmer.
The couch became his throne. The bedroom his sanctuary. Elliot his lifeline.
They talked more than ever. About fears. About the future. About the ways they'd both changed.
Elliot was different now.
Softer. Not weaker — just more aware of how precious things could be when they were nearly lost.
He kissed Julian more. Touched him with reverence. Checked in before everything — not just physically, but emotionally, too.
"Is this too much?"
"Do you want to be alone today?"
"What can I do that would help right now?"
And sometimes, when Julian couldn't answer, Elliot would simply lie beside him — hand resting over Julian's heart, steady as his own.
---
Healing wasn't linear.
There were nights Julian couldn't sleep, panicked that he'd relapse. Days when he felt useless, frail, frustrated.
But Elliot never made him feel small.
Not once.
Instead, he reminded him that loving someone sick is still love. That their story wasn't paused — it was just learning to move at a different rhythm.
One beat at a time