summer in the city 「 s.stan 」

DAY 30

— AUGUST 30TH —

Although you and Sebastian both woke up relatively early, you spent the majority of the day in bed, quietly cuddled up to each other. At some point, he went down to the kitchen and returned with snacks, drinks and his laptop, so that the two of you could watch a movie together. You insisted on The Bronze, knowing damn well that he would likely become all shy and embarrassed when that scene came on.

You were right. He hid his face in the crook of your neck and grumbled incoherently when you chuckled, suddenly getting flashbacks from the day when he'd almost walked in on you watching this movie in his living room.

"You know I've seen this before, right?" you asked, still grinning.

"You've seen my movies?" he replied, lifting his head and gazing at you hopefully. He was ridiculously cute.

"Of course. You're an amazing actor," you told him truthfully. Once again, he blushed and kissed you quickly instead of responding.

After watching several more of his films (all chosen by you, obviously), it dawned on you that you still needed to pack your bags for the following day. Honestly, although most of your possessions were in your room, you didn't really go in there anymore, apart from when you needed to pick out an outfit or fix your hair. You slept in Sebastian's room with him, and used his en-suite most of the time too; neither of you minded in the slightest.

Sighing, you began to roll out of bed, but he tightened his grip around your waist, smirking when you immediately gave in and rolled back into his embrace.

"Seb, I need to pack," you groaned, not really wanting to bring it up, but seeing no other option.

"Can I help?" he suggested, before adding softly, "I just wanna spend time with you."

You let him help, even though the task seemed to take ten times longer than usual with him as a distraction. It was largely down to the fact that the two of you, at heart, were massively childish; Sebastian couldn't resist making crude jokes about some of the lingerie that you owned, whereas you started a mini war by throwing socks at him. Somehow, it all ended with him practically laying on top of you, laughing adorably and peppering your face with messy kisses while you caught your breath.

Eventually, when it began to get dark, your stomach began to grumble. You were about to suggest takeout – however, Sebastian had already made plans. In no more than five minutes, the ingredients for fajitas were laid out on his kitchen counter; that was the first meal you ever tried to make together, on just your second day in New York, and if you remembered correctly, it had ended with him having to carefully bandage your thumb.

"Can I trust you with the knife this time?" he joked as you attempted to begin preparing the chicken. "Or do I need to have a fire extinguisher on standby?" he added, reminding you of yet another cooking disaster that had occurred that month.

"Oh, shush," you giggled, playfully rolling your eyes.

Miraculously, neither of you made any grave mistakes this time, and the Mexican food turned out brilliantly. You ate in silence until you were absolutely stuffed, at which point you both moved to lay on the couch together again.

"We're so lazy," Sebastian commented drily, as you traced circles on his shoulder with your finger. He shivered a little under your touch, which made you smile.

"Hey, we just spent an hour making dinner – it was hard work trying not to mess everything up."

"Maybe this time we weren't distracted by the obvious sexual tension in the room," he laughed, shaking his head. As much as it sounded silly, you hated to admit that it was probably true.

"I love you," you murmured, almost out of nowhere. It struck you that the two of you didn't say those words often; you didn't really need to.

"I love you too," Sebastian sighed, bringing a hand up to stroke your hair. "I didn't know it was even possible to fall for someone so quickly."

"Do you regret it?" you asked cautiously, but inquisitively. "I mean, this isn't exactly... ideal."

"No, it's not," he agreed, "but I don't regret it at all. And I think... I think that if this is meant to be, we'll find our way back to each other."

"I hope so," you whispered.

"Me too, sweetheart. Me too."