summer in the city 「 s.stan 」

DAY 11

— AUGUST 11TH —

You couldn't help the slight feeling of shock that overcame you the next morning. Although it wasn't the first time you'd woken up in Sebastian's arms, this occasion was somewhat different.

Because you were in his bed, completely stark naked.

You remembered everything that had happened between the two of you. He really did recreate your dream, and he did not disappoint. But now, as you sat up with a frown, you felt a sense of extreme regret. Not because you didn't like Sebastian – in fact, it was more because you did like him. Too much. You were getting attached, and sleeping with him was only going to make things ten times worse.

Grimacing, you attempted to wriggle out of his grip, to get back to your own room before he noticed. However, your movements weren't gentle enough and he opened his eyes, looking genuinely confused.

For a second, you found yourself hoping that maybe he wouldn't remember. But, before long, Sebastian's expression changed into one that was almost entirely unreadable.

"Oh," he muttered, running a hand through his hair anxiously. It wasn't much, but it gave away the fact that, like you, he wasn't too pleased about the situation.

"We should... we should maybe talk about this," you suggested, propping yourself up on one elbow and quickly covering yourself with the sheet.

"No," he replied abruptly, before wincing at his own brutal tone of voice. "Sorry, I just– this was never supposed to happen, Y/N. I don't regret it... well, I don't know. But you're here for a few more weeks, I can't... we just can't."

Even though you'd been thinking along the same lines, your hopes were dashed as Sebastian finally voiced his own thoughts. Forcing back tears, you nodded, trying your best to be mature and seem as if you weren't at all bothered. As if he was just another one night stand. As if you didn't want him to be so much more than that.

As you tried to stand up, Sebastian harshly grabbed your wrist. When you turned to glance at him, he offered you a smile – a slightly dim, strained one, but a smile all the same.

"Things won't be weird, right? We can... we could still be friends?" he asked.

You wanted to say no. To shout at him, to tell him that he shouldn't have gotten into something that he knew he couldn't handle. But it wasn't all his fault – it was yours, too. You'd wanted him, and he'd wanted you, and this was how it was going to end. Before it had even started. So what else could you do?

"Okay," you murmured softly, "just friends."