I was getting ready.
Actually getting ready for something other than just surviving the day.
That alone was terrifying.
The evidence? The mountain of clothes now covering my bed as I tried—and failed—to find something decent to wear. It was stupid. This was not a date. It was a school project. But somehow, the thought of seeing him made my pulse stutter.
Sebastian.
God, what was it about him?
Why did he make me feel like a live wire? Why did he make me want to be... me again?
I groaned, yanking another sweater off a hanger when Mehusa appeared in my doorway, eyes wide.
"Oh. My. God."
I turned, frowning. "What?"
She folded her arms, a slow smirk forming. "You're putting effort into your appearance."
I scoffed. "I always put effort."
She snorted. "Bullshit. The last time you tried to look nice was—" She paused. And for a split second, something dark flickered in her gaze.
She didn't say it. She didn't have to.
We both knew the last time.
But she pushed past it with a grin. "So? Who's the guy?"
"There's no guy."
"Uh-huh. And I'm the Queen of England."
I groaned. "It's just for a history project."
Her eyes narrowed. "You're blushing."
"No, I'm not."
She pointed dramatically. "Liar."
I grabbed a pillow and threw it at her. She laughed, dodging it as she walked away, singing, "Liv's got a crush."
I rolled my eyes. But deep down? I was terrified that she might be right.
I took a cab to meet seb near the library I did'nt brought my car. Sebastian had insisted on giving me a ride, and I hadn't fought him on it.
I spotted Sebastian immediately.
He was leaning against the library steps, scrolling through his phone. But the second he saw me, he froze.
His usual cocky grin flickered—like he'd momentarily forgotten how to breathe.
Then, slowly, he smirked. "Wow."
I frowned. "What?"
"You look..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "Never mind. If I tell you, your ego might explode."
I snorted. "You're one to talk."
He chuckled, falling into step beside me. "True. But if I'm being honest, you just became my favorite person to look at."
I raised an eyebrow. "You say that to all the girls?"
"Only the pretty ones." His smirk deepened. "But don't worry, Liv. You're extra special."
I rolled my eyes, but my stomach flipped.
Damn him.
we went inside the library and started looking for the topic for history
I pulled a book off the shelf, flipping through it lazily, when I noticed Sebastian wasn't looking for history books at all.
Instead, he was holding something completely different.
A classic novel.
I frowned. "That's not a history book."
Sebastian didn't even glance up. "Nope."
I raised an eyebrow. "Then why are you reading it?"
He smirked, finally looking at me. "Because I like books that wreck me emotionally."
I scoffed, leaning against the bookshelf. "Let me guess—Romeo and Juliet?"
Sebastian made a face. "Please. Too overrated."
I tilted my head. "Then what's your favorite tragic romance?"
He opened his mouth—
But I beat him to it.
"Ines de Castro and King Pedro of Portugal."
His smirk faltered.
Something flickered in his gaze.
Then, at the exact same time, he said the same thing.
We stared at each other.
The silence between us stretched, heavy with something unspoken.
"You actually know that story?" I asked, surprised.
His lips curled into something softer, something almost nostalgic. "Yeah. A king who loved a woman so much that he crowned her queen after her death?" He shook his head. "That's some serious devotion."
I studied him.Sebastian liked tragic love stories.
And for the first time, I wondered why.He noticed my stare and smirked. "Careful, Liv. Stare at me too long, and you'll fall for me."
I rolled my eyes. "In your dreams."But my heart was beating too fast.
"We can research about this this is quite tragic and a history I think this is the the best topic we can choose" sebstian told me and I nodded .
We sat in the quietest corner of the library, surrounded by towers of books that smelled like dust and ink. The space felt closed in, like the stories of the past were pressing in on us, listening. The pages between us held centuries of heartbreak, but nothing in them felt as intense as the way Sebastian was looking at me.
I should be focusing. I should be thinking about our project. But all I could hear was the soft rustling of pages and the steady sound of my own heartbeat—too fast, too loud.
Sebastian's fingers skimmed over the delicate pages of the book in front of him. Long, careful fingers. The kind that knew how to touch without breaking.
"Pedro and Ines," he murmured, his voice almost reverent. "You know their story?"
I crossed my arms, trying to act unaffected. "More than you'd expect."
He smirked. "I like surprises."
I rolled my eyes, but inside, my stomach did a little somersault. Why did his voice always do this to me?
I focused back on the book, clearing my throat. "Pedro didn't just love Ines. He was obsessed with her. His father, King Afonso, didn't approve, so he had her murdered while Pedro was away."
Sebastian's smirk faded. "Not just murdered." His voice dropped lower, darker. "Slaughtered."
The way he said it sent a chill down my spine. He wasn't just reading about it. He was feeling it.
I glanced up at him, but his eyes were locked onto the page, his jaw tense.
He turned the book slightly toward me, his fingers lingering on a passage. "She begged for her life. For her children's lives." His voice was slow, deliberate. "But the assassins didn't care."
He looked up at me then, his green eyes shadowed. "They stabbed her in the throat."
I swallowed. "And then Pedro declared war on his own father."
Sebastian nodded. "But that wasn't enough for him." He exhaled through his nose, like he was trying to push something away. "He needed the world to know that she still mattered. That her death wasn't the end of her."
Something about the way he said it made my chest tighten.
Sebastian flipped another page and read aloud, his voice softer now.
"Nenhum tempo te apagará da memória, nem as horas que correm, nem os séculos que virão."
I didn't have to look at the translation. I already knew.
"No time will erase you from my memory, neither the passing hours nor the centuries to come."
I swallowed.
Sebastian's fingers curled slightly around the edge of the book, his knuckles pale. "Pedro spent his entire life proving that Ines mattered. That even after death, she was still his queen."
There was something personal in his voice. Too personal.
Like he wasn't just talking about history.
Like he was talking about something—or someone—else.
I studied him carefully. "You think that kind of love is real?"
His smirk was slow this time, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I think people break themselves trying to make it real."
A lump formed in my throat. "That's depressing."
Sebastian leaned in slightly, his breath warm against my cheek. "That's the truth."
The air between us was too thick.
Too charged with something unspoken.
I forced myself to break eye contact, flipping the page in front of me as if I actually gave a damn about the project at this moment. "You know," I said, trying to sound casual, "I expected you to be the type who'd roll his eyes at tragic love stories."
Sebastian tilted his head. "Why?"
I shrugged. "Because you act like nothing gets to you."
His smirk faltered—just for a second. "Maybe some things do."
There it was again. That flicker of something deeper beneath his teasing.
Before I could think better of it, I reached across the table, instinctively placing my hand over his. The second my fingers brushed his knuckles, he flinched.
Not a little flinch. A full-body, muscles-going-rigid kind of flinch.
Like I had touched fire.
I yanked my hand back. "Seb?"
For a split second, something unreadable passed through his expression—something raw, something wounded. But then, just as quickly, it was gone.
He flashed me that easy smirk again, but this time, I saw through it. "Careful, Liv," he murmured, voice smooth as silk. "Keep touching me like that, and I'll start thinking you actually like me."
I rolled my eyes, trying to shake the moment off. "Keep dreaming, Green Eyes."
He chuckled, but the laughter didn't reach his eyes.
after an awkward but intense conversation with seb we leave from library to go towards seb car.
As we walk towards the car we passed from a dark alley and I stared at the scene unfolding in front of me. A man—drunk and furious—was shouting, his voice thick with rage and alcohol. The argument escalated too quickly, his anger boiling over as he swung a glass bottle through the air. I barely had time to register what was happening before the thick glass shattered against another man's head. A sickening crack echoed down the street, and my stomach twisted as blood sprayed across the pavement. The victim stumbled, groaned, and collapsed, his body crumpling like a rag doll.
My heart pounded, but not in panic—just fear. I had seen fights before. They weren't new to me. They weren't shocking. But there was something about the violence in this moment that felt more real, more dangerous. It wasn't a schoolyard scuffle or a drunken argument. This was rage, raw and unchecked.
I turned, instinctively searching for Sebastian. But when my eyes landed on him, fear turned into something else entirely.
He wasn't watching the fight—he was somewhere else. His body had gone rigid, his jaw clenched so tightly I could see the tension in his neck. His hands trembled at his sides, fists curling and uncurling, like they were trying to grasp something invisible. But it was his eyes that struck me the most—dark, unfocused, drowning in something far worse than what was in front of us.
He wasn't just scared. He was trapped.
"Sebastian?" I said his name carefully, trying not to startle him. He didn't respond. His chest was rising and falling too fast, his breathing sharp and uneven. I stepped closer, reaching out, but the moment my fingers brushed his arm, he flinched. His breath hitched violently, his entire body tensing like I had shocked him.
Something was wrong. Really wrong.
My stomach twisted, and suddenly, I wasn't just scared for him—I was terrified.
"Seb," I tried again, firmer this time. "Hey, look at me."
Still nothing. His gaze was locked somewhere far away, lost in something I couldn't see. A memory? A nightmare?
I hesitated only for a second before reaching up, pressing my hands gently against his face. His skin was cold—too cold. He inhaled sharply at my touch, but this time, he didn't pull away.
"You're not there," I whispered, my forehead barely brushing against his. "You're here. With me."
His body shuddered, his breath catching in his throat.
Then, his knees buckled.
"Sebastian!" I gasped, grabbing him before he collapsed completely. He was heavy, but I held on, refusing to let him fall. His fingers curled into my sleeve, gripping me like I was the only thing keeping him from slipping away completely. His breathing was still too fast, too shallow, like he was gasping for air but couldn't find it.
"Shit, Seb, just breathe, okay?" I whispered, my voice shaking even though I was trying to stay steady. "You're okay. You're safe."
His grip tightened for a moment—then, suddenly, his entire body gave out.
I barely had time to react before he collapsed.
"Sebastian!" I dropped to my knees beside him, panic clawing at my throat. His head lolled to the side, his face pale, his breathing shallow. My hands shook as I pressed them against his shoulders, trying to shake him awake.
No response.
"Shit, shit, shit," I muttered, heart hammering against my ribs. I grabbed his face, patting his cheek lightly. "Come on, Seb. Wake up."
Still nothing.
I forced myself to take a deep breath, trying to push the fear away. Think, Olivia. Think. I checked his pulse—steady, but weak. He was breathing, just out cold.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and shook him again, firmer this time. "Sebastian, wake up. Please."
And then, finally—a groan.
His eyelids fluttered, and I exhaled sharply, relief crashing over me. His gaze was hazy, unfocused, but at least he was conscious.
"Hey," I breathed, my voice softer now. "You're okay."
He blinked a few times, as if trying to piece together where he was. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he muttered, "Olivia?"
I nodded quickly. "Yeah. I'm here."
His eyes found mine, and for a brief second, something raw flashed through them—something broken.
And I realized then that whatever had happened to Sebastian in the past—whatever ghosts haunted him—they weren't done with him yet.