The house had gone quiet again.
Carter was asleep on the couch—finally. His breath came in slow, uneven waves, like he was still fighting whatever war his body had dragged him through. I watched the rise and fall of his chest with a kind of numb ache pressing behind my ribs.
Sebastian stood near the window, arms crossed tightly, staring out at the rain like it might give him answers. His jaw clenched and unclenched. That storm he always kept just below the surface—it was closer now. Almost visible in the sharp lines of his face, in the way he couldn't be still.
I pulled the blanket tighter around Carter, swallowing down everything I didn't want to feel.
I turned to look at him, my voice just above a whisper. "You okay?"
He didn't answer at first. Then—"No."
The word hit the room like a crack of thunder.
He finally looked at me. And for the first time, really looked.
His eyes weren't just angry. They were hurt. Confused. Dark and stormy, and something else I couldn't name.
"I don't get it," he said, voice rough. "Why does it feel like this?"
"Like what?" I whispered.
"Carter left you when everything was falling apart. He lets people tear you down. And now he's back, and you're… what? Just there again?"
"I'm not doing it for him," I said quietly. "He's sick. And he came to me."
"That's the part I don't get," Seb muttered. "Why? do you still have feelings for him?"
I felt the twist in my chest. "I don't love him," I said quickly. "It's not that. It's just… when he showed up at my door, part of me still saw the boy who held my hand when my parents were away. The boy who made me laugh when I didn't think I could anymore. And then there's this other part of me that remembers the way he let everyone turn on me without saying a word. That part of me wanted to slam the door in his face."
Seb's jaw tightened. His eyes flicked to Carter, then back to me.
"He's with Emily."
"I know."
"You're not angry?"
I let out a breath, slow and uneven. "I think I was. For a long time. But now… it's like the anger's dissolved into something heavier. Something I can't name. Like I have no right to be angry"
Seb's gaze didn't waver. "You have every right to be angry."
"Do I?" My voice cracked. "Because it doesn't feel like that. It feels like I'm expected to understand everyone else—Carter, Emily, even you. I'm supposed to be calm, forgiving, patient. And when I'm not, when I finally break down, it's like I'm the one who's being too much."
I turned away from him, the words barely holding together. "It's exhausting. Carrying all of this. Carrying everyone."
He stared at me. And then, softer—"I don't like seeing you like this."
"You don't even know what 'this' is."
"Maybe not. But I know I don't want Carter here. Not like this. Not… with you."
The words hung in the air, thick and heavy.
I blinked. "Why?"
He didn't answer.
I leaned forward slightly, my voice gentler now. "Why does it matter so much to you? He's sick. He needed help. That's all it is."
His breath hitched, and he ran a hand through his hair, like he didn't know what to do with it all. "I don't know why. I just know that when I saw him there… outside your house… I wanted to be the one you opened the door for."
I didn't breathe.
Seb's voice dropped, rough and quiet. "When I saw him on your couch, when your hands were on him—" He stopped, jaw flexing. "You still care. And it… it hurt."
My breath caught. "Seb—"
He shook his head, not looking at me. "I didn't expect it to. I didn't want it to. But it did. It felt like something punched through my chest."
I stared at him. "It wasn't like that. He was hurting."
"I know," he said quickly, almost too quickly. "I know that. And still… watching you hold him like that—look at him like that—like he still has a part of you—" He paused, swallowed hard. "It messed with me."
I whispered, "It wasn't about love."
"But it was still something," he said, voice cracking. "And that was enough."
I looked at him. His brows were furrowed, his eyes dark and stormy, and his hands were balled into fists against his knees like he didn't know how to stop the ache in his chest.
He dragged a hand through his hair and turned from the window, pacing like he couldn't stand being still. "And I hate it—hate myself—because I was the one who showed up at your door, a complete wreck. Bleeding, barely holding it together. And you didn't even flinch. You just… let me in."
My heart clenched. I remembered every second of that night—how scared I'd been, how quickly everything else had dropped away the second I saw him hurt. And now, hearing him say it out loud, with that edge of shame in his voice, it gutted me.
"I didn't do anything," I said quietly.
He stopped pacing and turned to face me. "You did everything. You kept me from falling apart. You didn't ask questions, didn't demand anything from me. You just gave me space to breathe when I couldn't even find air."
The raw honesty in his voice made my eyes sting.
"But now—seeing Carter here—watching you take care of him the same way… it messed with my head." He looked away again, jaw clenched. "And I realized something I don't know how to say without sounding like the biggest hypocrite in the world."
"What?" I asked.
He hesitated. Then, his voice dropped lower, almost like he was afraid of the answer. "What if I used you too?"
The words landed like a stone in my chest.
"You didn't," I said immediately, but my voice was too thin, too desperate. He wasn't hearing me.
"I didn't mean to," he said, shaking his head. "But I was falling apart, and you were just there. Strong. Safe. And I leaned on you like I had a right to. Like you didn't already have your own shit to deal with."
"You didn't use me," I said again, firmer this time. "You were hurt. I wasn't going to turn you away."
He stared at the floor. "But I didn't even think about what that would cost you. Just like Carter didn't. And now I'm standing here, angry at him for needing you… when I did the exact same thing."
"You're not the same," I whispered. "You didn't pretend to be okay. You didn't pretend I didn't matter."
"I still made you carry it," he said, looking up at me. "And maybe I hate him because I see too much of myself in him. Because I'm scared I took more from you than I had any right to."
His voice cracked on the last word.
I stepped closer without thinking. "You didn't take anything from me. I gave it, Seb. I wanted to help you."
"Why?" His eyes searched mine, dark and desperate. "Why would you do that for me?"
"Because I care about you," I said, breath catching. "Because you didn't pretend with me. You didn't lie. You were bleeding, Sebastian. And I saw you. Not the version you try to be around everyone else. You. And it mattered."
He let out a breath, like something inside him was unraveling.
"But that night wasn't just about you," I said quietly. "It meant something to me too."
His jaw tensed, and he took one step forward. "Then why does it feel like you still care about him?"
I swallowed hard. "Because he's spiraling. And I know what that looks like. I can't turn my back on that."
Seb's eyes flashed. "Even if it breaks you in the process?"
The room felt too small. My skin burned under the weight of everything unsaid.
"I can't do this to everyone," I said. "Not even you. I keep trying to hold it all together, like if I just stay strong enough, no one else will break. But I'm tired, Seb."
He was close now. So close I could feel his heat, the tension rolling off his body like a current.
"Then let someone carry you for once," he said, voice low and shaking. "Let me."
I looked up at him, and for a second, everything fell quiet—the world, the pain, even the air between us.
"Why are you saying this now?" I asked. "Why does him being here make you feel this way?"
He stared at me. And then, like something in him cracked open—he said, "Because he's here. And I hate that he still gets that from you."
My heart stuttered.
I didn't move. Didn't speak.
Seb's voice dropped to something raw. "I shouldn't feel like this. You're not mine. I know that. But it's like... every time I see you looking at him, or touching him, or even talking to him—my chest feels too small for my heart."
I didn't know what to say. Every thought had been pulled out of me. All I could do was stare at him—at the way his brows were drawn together, like he hated even admitting it out loud.
And I felt something unfurl in me. Something painful. Something too big.
He kept going. "I know you're not with him. But he came to you. Not her. And it makes me want to scream. Because if I don't even understand what this is between us, what right do I have to be angry?"
My hands trembled at my sides. "Seb…"
His name felt like a confession.
He stepped closer.
"I'm not saying I have a claim on you," he whispered. "I'm not. But when you're with someone else—when someone else gets pieces of you I don't—"
He broke off for a second, like it physically hurt to finish.
"I don't know how to shut it off anymore." His voice was hoarse.
Seb's eyes searched mine.
Something passed between us—heavy and unspoken and full of things neither of us had the courage to say. Not completely. Not yet.
But he stepped closer, so close I could feel the heat of him. His voice was low. Shaky. "I don't know what this is between us. But it scares the hell out of me."
"Why?" I asked.
"Because I'm starting to need it."
And then he kissed me.
It wasn't soft.
It was desperate. Messy. Full of all the anger and confusion and want that had been clawing between us for weeks.
His hand found the side of my face, thumb brushing my cheek as his mouth crashed against mine. And I melted—completely, entirely, like every part of me had been waiting for this exact moment.
My hands curled in his hoodie, pulling him closer, because suddenly the space between us was unbearable. I could feel the tremble in his chest. The hesitation beneath the hunger. Like he couldn't believe I was letting him do this.
His kiss deepened, slower now, fuller. Like he was memorizing the shape of my mouth. Like he was afraid to stop.
And my whole body reacted—every nerve alight, every breath shallow. His lips moved against mine like a promise he didn't know how to keep. Like an apology and a confession all tangled together.
When we finally pulled apart, I was breathless.
He rested his forehead against mine. His breathing ragged.
"I didn't mean to do that," he said.
"I know."
"But I don't regret it."
I closed my eyes.
And again he claimed my lips and I let me do it