Julius didn't stay long. He barely heard the rest of the conversation in the ballroom, the voices around him blurring into a meaningless hum, faces passing without leaving any impression at all.
Even Helen's presence beside him felt distant, wrong, like everything had shifted half a degree out of place. He adjusted his cuff once, then again, his movements precise but restless.
"You're not listening," Helen said, her voice quiet but firm.
"I am," Julius replied, though he wasn't, not even close. Every nerve in his body was tuned to a frequency he didn't want to acknowledge, and he could feel eyes on his back, a predatory weight that hadn't left him since he'd stepped back inside.
"You've been distracted all night," she continued, studying him carefully. "If something is bothering you, you can tell me."
Julius forced himself to meet her eyes. "I said I'm fine," he said, too sharp, and saw her notice it.
Before she could respond, he stepped back, already putting distance between them. "Excuse me," he said. "I need to leave."
Helen blinked. "Leave? Now?"
"I have something to handle," Julius replied calmly, and didn't wait for her answer.
He moved through the crowd quickly, his pace controlled but urgent, like a man racing something he couldn't see. When he finally stepped into the quieter hallway, he exhaled sharply, grateful for the silence, though it didn't actually help.
The feeling was still there — the pressure, the presence, impossible to shake. Julius clenched his jaw and pushed open the door to the private restroom, the lights flickering on automatically, cold and bright over an empty room.
He walked straight to the sink and gripped the edge, meeting his own reflection. Composed on the surface, but not convincing, not even to himself.
"Get a grip," he muttered, turning on the water and splashing it onto his face once, then again. The cold helped, but not enough — his breathing was still uneven, his chest still tight, and he knew exactly why, which only made it worse.
He felt it before it happened, a shift in the air, a quiet weight settling into the room as though it belonged there, wrapping around him again. His hands tightened on the sink's edge.
"…Can you stop?" The words came out low and controlled, but edged with irritation. Behind him, nothing answered.
He lifted his head and found him in the mirror, standing there calm and unbothered, as though this were entirely expected. Julius straightened and turned to face him fully, water still clinging to his skin, though he didn't bother wiping it away.
"Can you stop spreading it?" he said sharply. "Or is that something you do on purpose?"
Harrison didn't answer right away, and the delay alone made Julius's irritation rise faster. "You know exactly what you're doing," Julius pressed. "So stop using it like that."
Harrison only watched him, steady and unreadable, until Julius let out a short breath, his frustration building. "Keep it under control."
"Or keep your distance," Harrison said finally.
"It's affecting you," he added, the calm response landing clean.
"That's not your concern," Julius shot back.
"It is when you react like this."
"I'm not reacting," Julius snapped. Harrison took a step closer, never rushed, never hurried.
"You are," he said quietly. Julius shook his head once, sharp. "No."
"What you're doing is forcing a reaction," Harrison said, taking another step, close enough now that the space between them had nearly vanished.
"You didn't have to follow me," Julius added. "Or is that part of it too?"
Harrison stopped just short of him. "You left," he said simply.
"And you followed," Julius replied.
"Yes." No hesitation, and the certainty of it made something in Julius tighten all over again.
"You're unbelievable," he muttered. The silence that followed was heavy, uncomfortable, and Julius drew a slow breath, trying once more to steady himself. He reached up and fixed his tie, the motion quick and deliberate.
"I meant what I said," he continued, not looking at him. "Stop using it against me."
"Using what against you?" The question came calmly, too calmly, and Julius's fingers stilled for a brief second.
"Don't play with me," he said sharply.
"I'm not," Harrison replied. "You're the one making accusations." Julius turned then, irritation flashing clearly across his face.
"You know exactly what you're doing."
"Do I?" Harrison's expression stayed steady, unreadable, and it pushed something in Julius further than it should have.
"You don't even know what you're accusing me of," Harrison added, and that was what finally broke him.
"Your pheromones," Julius said, the word coming out hard and uncontrolled.
A brief silence settled before Harrison spoke again. "…So you finally admit it."
"Admit what?" Julius's jaw tightened.
"That my pheromones affect you."
That broke the last of his restraint. "Yes," Julius snapped, his voice rising, frustration spilling through freely now. "It affects me. It's sharp. It's strong." He exhaled hard. "It's disgusting. Irritating. It gets everywhere." His chest rose and fell once. "It's powerful," he finished, almost through clenched teeth, "and it annoys me."
He pushed off the sink and stepped past Harrison. "Stay away from me," he said, clear and direct, though not as steady as he wanted it to sound.
Harrison didn't move to stop him, which somehow made it worse. Julius reached the door, his hand already on the handle, and paused for a moment without turning or speaking.
Then he opened it and walked out.