In dolore, verita.
Julian looked around him, taking in the sights, sounds, and smells of Nachton. So different from his small hometown, different even from New York city. This city was active even now, in the middle of the night. It was good. He didn't want to be stuck in the middle of a dead city.
He'd been surprised to get a call-back from the symphony but apparently someone in charge had liked his audition. Not only that but they had contracted him for several solos already, in multiple styles. That pleased him; as much as Julian enjoyed playing guitar and singing in bands, he was happier to have landed a steadier position in the symphony, flattered to be asked to perform on his own already.
His parents hadn't wanted him to make this move; they had been a close-knit family before the accident that had shattered them... or at least, him. They seemed to have moved on much more easily than Julian, but then, they weren't the ones in the car.
Unfair. It had been traumatic for all of them and his parents were still grieving. They didn't want to lose the only child they had left. They wanted to hold Julian to them, shelter him, keep him safe. He understood that. But for him, Catskill was too small now. Everywhere he went he saw Andrea's face. Everywhere he went he saw pity in the faces of people he'd known all his life. He had to get away.
I'm sorry, Andy.
He battled with a feeling of unfaithfulness. In the end though, he still felt like he'd made the right choice in coming. He needed to get away if he was going to move on with his own life. Andy would have wanted him to.
He glanced down at the map in his hand. He'd seen the studio apartment once but the city was large enough that it warranted the use of a map to navigate to it. He was sure he'd learn all the ins and outs soon enough.
He had his key already. No furniture, but it was coming. His parents had grudgingly allowed him to pay for the studio himself but they'd insisted on helping him outfit it. He couldn't deny them that. They were his parents.
Julian finally reached the ground floor studio, walking his slow, lopsided walk, but actually walking it. And that was an accomplishment in and of itself. He let himself in and looked at the tiny, empty space. This would be home for now. It was clean and in what the landlord told him was a decent, quiet neighborhood. He wasn't too far from the concert hall the symphony performed at.
Julian's bag had a few changes of clothes, toiletries, and a small air mattress. He set the bag down, dug out the mattress, and inflated it quickly with a battery-operated fan. Once that was done he tossed his blanket on it, not too worried about actually making the bed.
It looked home enough for now. He didn't plan on sleeping for a few hours yet; he wasn't tired enough. Instead he headed back out to shop a little bit more for supplies, food, and anything else he needed to get himself started.