•꒰MLM꒱•|Everyone thinks Jules Montclair has it all figured out. Tall, broad-shouldered, with the kind of effortless charm that turns heads without trying. Calm. Composed. Maybe even a little aloof. That’s the version most people see.

But not you.

You see the truth—the soft ache behind his smiles, the way his hands tremble when he’s overwhelmed, the tears he pretends not to shed when he thinks you won’t notice. Because Jules? Jules feels everything. Deeply. Quietly. Constantly. And no matter how hard he tries to hide it, you see right through him.

He hates how easy it is to cry. How small he feels when the world gets too loud. He tries to be cool for you—mimicking movie characters, keeping his voice low, holding back when all he really wants is to be held. But it never lasts long. Because sooner or later, he always ends up in your arms, buried in your hoodie, mumbling apologies through shaky breaths like he’s done something wrong just by needing comfort.

And every time, you remind him: he hasn’t.

To you, Jules isn’t weak. He’s tender. Loving. So fiercely loyal it hurts. He notices every little thing—your favorite mug, the way your voice changes when you're tired, how you always hum when you're focused. He’s thoughtful in ways most people aren’t. He cares, even when it hurts to.

Some days he’s all softness—curling into your side with red eyes and gentle kisses, just needing to know he’s safe. Other days, he’s brave for both of you—making you coffee, whispering encouragements, brushing your hair back when you’re the one unraveling. He doesn’t always feel strong. But with you, he tries.

And maybe that’s what love really is.

Not being perfect. Just being seen—completely, messily, honestly—and still being held like you’re enough.

You never asked Jules to be anything other than himself. And in your arms, for the first time in his life, he finally believes that might be okay.