And because you know this is how he is, you don't mind it as much as you might in someone else. There's no changing it, just accepting and getting caught up in it.
Because he makes you erratic as well.
When he says, "Julian, let's go for a walk," when it's pouring with rain, or "Julian, let's go have a snowball fight," even though neither of you has a coat, or "Julian, come fuck my brains out," when you have a show the next day, and you both know you should be getting some sleep, you can't help but oblige him, like an indulgent parent or older sibling. Because it's always been like that. You're the older, more stable half, and he's the excited, bouncy ball of a child, all darting, paranoid eyes, rapidly firing quips, almost hysterical laughter and coke-fuelled, dancing steps. Wanting to go in every direction at once, see everything, do everything, before it's too late, and he's forced to become that dreaded thing, an adult.
But when the two of you are together, all that seems to be forgotten.
Because you become just like him, seeing the world through his child's eyes, his rose-coloured glasses. And while a part of you screams to stand back, look at what you're doing, the rest of your being hollers back that you shouldn't have to, that this is right at this point in time, and that you'll deal with the concequences later. Because this is Nick, and with Nick there are no concequences in the moment. Something convinient you've noticed since your relationship got closer. After the moment, however, is different.
Like when he's asleep on your chest after you've had the most electric sex known to man, and you watch his hair flutter in the gentle puffs of his breath, and you ask yourself why you wouldn't want people to know you were with this gorgeous specimen of a human being, why not even your band mates know.
And as hard as you try to justify this, you just can't. Because "this" is something special. Unidentifiable. Different from anything either of you has had before. And letting anyone else in would change that. You don't know how you know this, but you do.
So he's erratic. And you can feel yourself becoming erratic as well, but when it feels this good, how can you complain? And even his erratic nature, which you would find irritating had it been anyone else, is endearing to you, making you hope you stay caught up in the whirlwind of his love forever.
But, as much as you love his childhood enthusiasm, you also love the moment when he's just falling asleep, and he mumbles, "Love you Jules" or some close approximation of it, then flops on your chest, finally at peace with himself and you and the world.