26 CROSS_DRESS

After we freshen up, I order Chinese food. Somehow, I manage to convince Julian to stay the night. There's something I've been meaning to tell him, but the thought of his reaction makes my chest tighten with dread.

"Julian," I call softly.

"Mmh?" He raises his head from my chest, looking up at me with those curious eyes. We're cuddling on my bed, our limbs tangled in a peaceful rhythm. For a moment, I hesitate. I don't want to ruin this calm.

"There's a big problem," I say, my voice heavy with the weight of what's coming.

"What is it?" he asks, sitting up instantly. His tone shifts, alert, concerned.

"My parents... they want me to marry someone. And, well, it's already gone too far. I don't know how much longer I can keep stalling them."

His eyes widen. "What is this now?" His voice trembles, betraying his frustration. "Just when I thought, finally, everything is great, you go and ruin it. What are you even talking about, Adam? How old are you? How can your parents decide who you marry, especially if it's someone you don't even want? And you're just... calm about it?! Or maybe you do want this marriage, and now you're using it as an excuse to make me leave you alone, because I honestly don't understand how this is happening!"

"Julian," I say gently, my heart aching at the pain in his voice. "If that were the case, why would I have asked you to be my boyfriend? Ever since my brother passed away, all their attention has been on me. All I've ever wanted is to respect them, to help them cope with the pain of losing a child. I've been that little boy who does everything they want me to do. And I have a reason for that, Julian. My parents are fragile. Anything small could break them. I can't lose anyone else—not even you. I just want to keep everyone around me. If I lose you, even if it's not to death, I won't be able to take it."

"Then how can I stay with you if you're going to have someone else by your side?" His voice cracks. "Why does it have to hurt so much for us to be together? Why not just tell them the truth? That you're ga—"

"I can't. At least not now," I interrupt, my voice firm but sorrowful.

"So?" His tone is clipped, guarded.

"They're not exactly forcing me to marry someone I don't want. To them, it probably feels like a choice because they've asked me to bring a woman home tomorrow—the one I want. If I don't, then they'll arrange a marriage for me with someone they've chosen. They want an heir, grandchildren... and my dad, he doesn't want me to end up like him. Lonely. Consumed by work."

He says nothing, his silence suffocating, so I press on. "I've come up with an idea. I know you won't like it, but if we want to protect what we have, we might not have a choice."

"What is it?" he asks cautiously.

"I want to buy time by taking someone to them tomorrow."

"Okay," he says, standing abruptly. His movements are sharp, defensive. I can see the pain flash in his eyes. He thinks I mean someone else. Before he can walk away, I drop the bombshell.

"And that someone is you."

He freezes, his back still to me. Slowly, he turns, his face a mixture of confusion and disbelief. "How can it be me? Man... you're so confusing. I think I'm going to go crazy with all this. Why on earth did I let myself fall in love? Because this—this is too much. I can't take it."

"You regret loving me?" I ask, the lump in my throat making it hard to speak. "Well, I regret it too. You know why? Because if I didn't love you, I wouldn't care. They could bring me a stranger to marry, and I'd do it without a second thought. I'd give them what they want. So, Julian, do you want to do this or not?"

"How can you even take me to them? I'm a man. And you just said you can't let them know you're gay!"

"Cross-dress," I blurt out before I can stop myself.

"I'm sorry, what? You want me to cross-dress?" He stares at me like I've grown another head. "Okay, you've gone too far. I'm not doing that! I can't! If it's come to this, then let it be. There are plenty of people who love each other but never get to be together. They didn't die, Adam. They moved on. We can do the same."

"How can you say that?" I plead, my voice desperate. "Please, do this for us. I promise I'll find a way out of this. I can't lose you. You have no idea how dark my life has been. You're the only light in it, Julian. If you leave, I don't know how to live anymore. I'm begging you, please. You're the one who said we should try to understand each other, to stick together. Didn't you mean it?"

"Until when, Adam? We can't keep playing this game of hide and seek our whole lives."

"I don't know," I admit. "But I promise I'll make it quick. I hate putting you through this, but I need you to trust me."

He exhales, his shoulders slumping. "I get it. I know I overreact sometimes, but it's just... you make me feel like we could lose everything in a blink of an eye. I feel so insecure. I don't want to feel that way again."

"I promised I wouldn't make you feel like that anymore. Trust me, Julian."

"Okay," he says softly, pulling me into a hug. The warmth of his embrace gives me the strength to keep going.

"Thank you, my love."

He pulls back, raising a brow. "Wait, 'my love'? Is that the same as M.L.?"

"Absolutely," I say with a sly grin.

"So you've been calling me that this whole time, and I had no clue there were feelings behind it?"

"Definitely. Now, your turn. Tell me what H.H. stands for."

"Figure it out," he teases.

"But I just told you what M.L. means to me."

"Exactly. I figured it out myself. You can do the same."

"At least give me a clue!"

"It's not something cool, so stop being so curious," he says with a smirk. "I started calling you that back when you were a complete nuisance to me. So trust me, it's not flattering."

"Then I don't want to know. But don't call me that anymore."

"Alright, Hellhound," he says, laughing at my stunned expression.

"What?! You called me that?"

"You were so fierce back then—I couldn't help it!"

"You're going to pay for that," I warn, lunging at him. He slips out of my grasp, laughing, and suddenly we're running around like kids, the weight of our conversation temporarily forgotten.