My legs carried me while my hearing gave in to selective deafness. Leaving my mind open to the events of the last ten minutes.
Can't say she doesn't keep her word. I winced as I delicately dabbed at my arm with my equally spoiled apron; speed walking blindly through the swinging door. Sebastian's angry tones followed me out of the eatery.
Trash. That's what she called me. She'd measured me up in less time than it took most people to take a sip of water. Clearly seeing me as something to destroy. And in the process of Ronaldo pulling me back into the dance we've been doing for months, I paid the consequences.
He told me not to be ashamed of myself but here I was. Rolling in words spewed out in hatred. Allowing one little line to make me feel like that panicked thirteen-year-old girl whose mother wanted to pimp her out. As if my entire worth was summed up by my monetary value. Further cementing my belief that Guin and Bathilda had far too much in common in personality.
"Shit, who is he yelling at?" I jumped at Heather's voice. She was peeking through the crack of the door. When Sebastian's angry reprimand came floating through, Heather's eyebrows raised to high heaven. Immediately her eyes locked onto mine.
I liked Heather. She was a little older than me; about Sebastian's age. For some reason, from the very beginning, she had taken a liking to me. Heather was always the first person to comfort me when I messed up in the dark ages.
With a reassuring hand to my back and a quick comment about our Ronnie, she managed to make me feel better, made me smile. I was certain I saw her trying to hide her laugh during the stray dog incident. She's definitely kept a chuckle or two back for many of my other shenanigans.
She was the one who showed me the ropes when I was too proud to ask Sebastian. If my situation hadn't been what it was, I would like to think we would have become friends outside of this place.
Heather glanced at my dirtied front then back out the door before finally shutting it and walking toward me. She grabbed my hand and tugged me in the direction of the bathroom drifting around the remaining others. I gave a sad little wave to Ollie as we passed, who looked at me with alarming concern. Once inside, she wet and wrung the hand towel before handing it to me.
I took it gratefully and began dabbing at the mess.
"What's going on between you two?" She asked kindly, leaning her hip against the sink.
"Nothing. Just boss/employee stuff." I wouldn't meet her eye and focused on gingerly dabbing. And now I could add Heather to the list. Feck. Heather snorted.
"M'dear, something is going on. I haven't seen him blow a gasket like that in a good while. Our beloved ass never reams out one of those customers. Especially one that's close to his family." My eyes jumped up to hers. "Us? Occasionally, if we're especially naughty, but them, not once. You know how he is, all tight lip and stoney. So?"
I bit my lip and shook my head. She sighed.
"Dalia, we're not blind." She waited a beat. I was starting to hate that phrase. "Look I'm not judging. He's more chipper and biting our heads of less, if at all. A lot like the old Sebastian when we started this place. The other day I actually heard him laugh at work, I nearly shit my pants. I've known him a long time and it's always been hard to get a compliment or a smile out of him when it came to this place. Shy Guy's is his baby and he's protected it with two iron fists. We've all helped him protect it."
She paused. "He's harder on himself than he is on us. We never faulted him for the firm grip. He's changed." I swallowed. "Sorry dear, that out there is a dead giveaway that something is plumping his basket."
I groaned. I should have known we couldn't fly under the radar with all the touchy-feely layers of our extremely complicated relationship. Every hope I had of keeping our closeness hidden died a thousand deaths. Worse, if her words were anything to go by, she thought we were having sex. Was that the official impression? How unprofessional and cringeworthy. I may have copped my fair share of feels and got pulled into all of the hugs but we were still in true friendzone territory.
Sort of.
If dangerous neck kisses and nuzzling can be considered friendzone activities....Fuck.
"Whatever it is, keep doing it. I've seen him almost work himself into the ground and believe me, that man needs whatever you're giving him. Even if it means you're just his illegitimate therapist." She smiled at me with warmth and headed toward the door. As she passed she gave me one of her reassuring squeezes.
"How long have you known him?" I blurted out, facing her, then fought a blush. Maybe this was my way of making sure he would be okay when I left. That he'd have a massive net to fall back on when memories of me became a burden. He had Blake but maybe he needed more.
"Since freshman year of college. We were partners a lot in all of our classes together. Believe it or not, we're actually good friends, though you wouldn't be able to tell with the way he is around here." She smiled at me. "We even dated once."
Shit. I dropped the towel and bent down quickly to pick it up. This day just kept getting better and better. All of the terrible things spurring a tsunami of word flotsam.
"Oh, well he and I aren't... I'm sorry if you thought... He's still open if you were thinking about rekindling..." I was rambling, shit, stop talking Dalia! I looked at her, chewing on my lip. My hand scratching at my nose in discomfort.
Although Heather would be far more perfect than the a-hole out front. Jesus, what am I doing trying to arrange relationships for after my departure. I had issues. Real big fucking issues. Heather laughed.
"Dalia, stop. Trust me that ship had docked and sailed, it's never coming back into this port. Please don't fret, you're too cute." I only nodded. "Really, he's not my type."
I looked at her like she was a dirty liar. My face had to be screaming, 'lies he's everyone's type!' I was about to voice it when she beat me to it.
"Let's just say he doesn't have the right parts." She looked me up and down. "You on the other hand..."
Oh.
OHHHHHHHHHH! Fuck, I was slow. I was blind and slow. I wanted to facepalm myself so hard. This whole situation was new territory for me. Thanksgiving with his sister, The twat out there...I couldn't keep up with this avalanche shitstorm.
Now I'm realizing maybe I should have at least opened up to a friendship with Heather before all of this. I understood why I hadn't, my reasons for why hasn't changed. But I wished I'd taken a chance like I ended up doing with Sebastian. Not that it was helping us now...
"Ah, I see how that could be a problem." I nodded sagely. Wanting to focus on something other than my miasma of shit, I followed down my path of self-destruction. "Can I be absolutely nosey and rude and ask how long and when you found out?"
Heather closed the bathroom door again and pulled me to the little two-seater that I seemed to forgo more often than not. Comfy seats were for people who didn't go running around smashing people's emotions like sugar shards. If it wasn't obvious, I was clearly in a funk.
"It's actually a funny story. Wrapped around a not so funny journey but humorous in the end. I always had an inkling I was into women. But I'd have that random pull to a man here or there. At most, I figured I just went both ways," she paused losing herself in her own memory. A tightness around her mouth gave me a clue that it wasn't exactly a pleasant one, but she bounced back with an easy smile. "And Sebastian...well, he was very hard not to like. Turns out I was more attracted to the soul of him. I finally affirmed that I was 100 percent waving a different flag while he was trying to pull into port, if you catch my drift."
I stared at her and she grinned at me. It took an embarrassing amount of time to catch on. Then I laughed, long and hard. It felt fucking wonderful. The tight clench in my stomach from giddiness eased the tension of having tea dumped on me.
"Oh my god, that must have been so awkward for both of you." I wiped a hand to catch a rogue tear. Heather chuckled.
"It was for about 5 seconds before we both started laughing. It turned out neither one of us was feeling it romantically but we'd been going out for about 3 months and wanted to give it a real go. We did like each other. Communication was definitely not the key there. I also had my own reasons for not throwing in the towel but it's something I had to work through. After that whole experience, there was no way we couldn't be friends." Heather nodded happily, lost in her memories once more.
Four months ago I couldn't imagine anyone getting along with the hard-ass, or who would be masochistic enough to want to. But now...now I'm surprised everyone wasn't in his circle of friends. Living with him has given me the perspective that Sebastian is only intense at work. Given that he decided to open a bakery in a hostile neighborhood opposed to change during a shaky economy...I'm now ashamed for giving him such a hard time on being a prickly bastard.
He was trying to build the difficult during the impossible, and you only got away with that if you ran a tight ship. Sebastian was one of those people that deserved it all because he believed everyone deserves a chance. He worked on giving those people a chance.
The tightness in my chest from my impending departure grew tenfold, aided by my guilt and shame. "Well I'm glad he has a friend like you, I'm sorry he's a dick at work though."
"Don't apologize for him. Trust me outside of work I make him pay for it all and then some. He likes to tease me about how if it wasn't for him I would probably be married to some boring accountant with two kids while hitting on my neighbor's wife." I snorted and she sighed. "He's not wrong. He was the one who helped me find the avenues I needed to work through my roadblocks. Encouraged me to find acceptance in the things I couldn't change and to live my best life."
That sounded like Sebastian, alright. Wasn't he always pushing me to be proud of myself? Only how well can I see that when someone like Guinevere Rosling calls me trash after throwing her scalding latte at me.
"Don't let her get to you. She isn't worth it." I nodded but didn't make eye contact. I was used to being invisible, most homeless were. I was used to being looked at like I was a virus, a disease. The sneers, the contempt, those were things I took in stride.
But this felt different. Like an affirmation of everything I've been trying to ignore. Feeling affected by her words didn't sit well with my fuck it all attitude. I'm not sweet on her. The memory only cemented the blades shredding my heart.
"We really are only friends. He's been very kind to me during a rough patch that I was in." I offered dejectedly.
"That sounds like him. He's an incredible person when you get past all the angry glares and utter concentration. Or that big head of his." She nudged me with her elbow, trying to get me to smile. "I should say past angry glares."
"He's been tamed a little." I nodded. Truthfully, I don't believe he was tamed. You can't really tame people. I think he just finally found some balance that eased off his full-time stress.
"That burn looks mean. You okay?" I looked at the angry red mark that was now resembling a welt, it was definitely going to blister. I nodded again. "Let me get the first aid kit, I'll help you dress it."
My arm was tightly bandaged with some cooling ointment to take away the sting by the time I went back to the kitchen.
I didn't know if the socialite had left yet or not but the yelling had stopped so I figured she must be gone. It was an hour before Sebastian came back in a foul mood. With our recent imbalance, I wasn't ready to face him after that shitshow showdown. So I made myself scarce. In fact, I kept avoiding him at every corner. Just like the old days, I'm all about the progress.
I knew I couldn't avoid him forever but I'll deal with that when I got home. If we were going to argue that would be the place to do it. Seems like all we ever did was argue now. Breaking apart and trying to patch ourselves back together.
It was late and everyone had left a few hours ago, Sebastian had left first after announcing he had to head out early. I was completely alone and apparently determined to make this kitchen shine. Taking my anger and hurt out on everything around me with bleach.
Those venomous words looped around my mind even as I tried to destroy them with fire.
They shouldn't have hurt, and I've been called far worse, but it stung in a way that made no logical sense. Her opinion wouldn't have mattered a damn bit if it didn't involve him.
My feelings for Strawberry Fields were...complicated, at best. Evolving without my permission and plowing through my warnings. Proving my fears right. I can officially admit just how much I fucked up by moving in. Dalia Romanov knew exactly where she stood and she certainly didn't need Guinevere to point that out. Guin had no idea how accurate she was.
I was the girl who crawled out a trailer window just so that some pervert wouldn't take advantage of her. So I wouldn't become that girl from the horror stories the upper-class soccer moms shared at their PTA meetings because they saw a special on 20/20. Just a couple of months ago I was sleeping on the ground in a storage facility, in that sense the asshole was right.
Regardless of what she thought of me, she had no right to behave the way she did. To attack all because she thought she had claim over a person who didn't want the same things she did.
I refuse to rehash all the reasons of why everyone's view is so wrong. Sebastian and I played, we flirted but I knew that's all it would ever be. Because attraction doesn't equate to interest. The other day had been my warning. Hadn't it? Our emotions were getting muddled. We've been so off. And Guin's voice just wouldn't get the hell out of my head.
These thoughts made me so angry I hadn't noticed my hand bleeding from scrubbing the countertop so hard. Crap, now I had to fix my hand and disinfect everything all over again. Even though it was bleeding, my hand kept scrubbing.
I didn't stop until a large hand clamped down over mine, effectively keeping it from moving.
"Stop," Sebastian said softly. "You're hurting yourself."
I wanted to cry. I wasn't ready, not yet. I never seemed to be ready after the crash. What energy could I possibly have left to fight him on this?
"Please look at me." I shook my head, staring at our hands. "What happened today..." He paused, avoiding the words.
"Trash. Go on say it. She had no problem to; she's not far off the mark, am I right?" I bit out humorlessly. "I know who I am Sebastian, her words don't define anyone. But I can't hide from me and I can't change what is. I keep telling you to cut your losses and run. After all, I'm leaving anyway, so what difference does it really make."
"You keep bringing up what you are when it's obvious you're viewing this through the wrong window. Why do you believe that your upbringing makes you less than, Shorts?" I didn't answer him, that was a long convoluted path I dare not embark on.
Sebastian squeezed my hand and raised my face up to his with the other. Invading my space as if he had every right too. And my vulnerability allowed it. "Guin is a lost, bitter woman who doesn't handle getting rejected repeatedly very well. Then takes out her frustrations at everyone she deems a threat." He said through clenched teeth.
"It's quite clear how she sees me and it isn't as a threat! I'm no threat to her or anybody." Well except for Bathilda. I might bow and arrow her ass if she pushed me far enough...It took a lot out of me not to pull away. Nothing helped the bitter taste in my mouth or the ache in my chest. Staring at this beautiful man who had been so kind to me only made it worse.
"I disagree wholeheartedly, you're the biggest threat." He glanced at me and held my gaze for a beat, driving the message home. "Whether you choose to see it or not."
I swallowed. "You making more enemies for me, Ronald?"
"None you have to face alone," he replied, his voice was urgent, the frustration lying just beneath the surface.
"I appreciate the effort, Sebastian, but it's senseless. I'm okay with not being anywhere near her league." I whispered, feeling resigned, the fight simply beaten out of me.
For one, she seemed to stem from the League from Hell. Then again, given my birthright, I may actually be the heir of such a place. One day, I hoped to wake and finally find peace in my existence. Scarce as it was, I needed to find acceptance that didn't feel like I was lying down on the rattling tracks as a steamer came blaring down it.
Sebastian pulled me toward him, into one of the hugs that only seem to get us in trouble. The possessive kind; I'm chalking that up to me projecting my emotions onto him.
"You're in your own league, Darlin'." I fought the urge to pull away and bolt. I balled my fists that were pressed between our chests. "I already told you, you're the sun." He whispered in my ear.
Little baby tears pooled on my lower lashes, threatening to dive-bomb into depths unknown and make it impossible to hide them. How the hell am I not supposed to love him when he says things like that?
It was unreasonable and unfair. I loved him. So much it scared me like I knew it would and there's absolutely no escape from it.
Love. The one thing I've held back, tried to bury, now sitting before me in the ugly light of day. I was in love with someone that had no place in my life and wouldn't even want the love I had to offer anyway.
I was fucked.
I stifled my sniffle, allowing one tear to traipse down my cheek. I could feel him resting his cheek on top of my head. Can't I please just bury myself right into him and never leave? Is that a horrible thing to ask for? Am I not deserving of a brief moment of solace?
All too soon he pulled back, holding me away from him.
"Come on, let's go take care of your hand." I didn't even get to protest. He wrapped his arm around me and led me to the bathroom. Leading me to doom, loneliness, and heartache. How befitting for the woman who should crawl back to the trash from whence she came.
Before I knew it, I found myself on that sofa with someone tending to my wounds for the second time that day. First I had the port, now I have the ship. I pressed my lips tightly together to keep from snorting. Finding what little humor that was left in all of this.
"There, that should do it." He closed the kit and tossed the crumpled wrappers and wipes into the trash. He was kneeling before me, examining his work before shooting me a quick smile. He reached for my left hand to inspect it just in case. "Try not to get your fingers caught in the bristles when you're stripping the countertops, yea?"
I stuck my tongue out at him when our eyes met. His hand moved down my forearm and he stiffened. I could have pulled it away but there was no sense in hiding it. We lived together, he'd see it. His eyes latched onto the bandage that was wrapped around, jaw clenching. He placed a gentle finger to where the burn was and pressed lightly, I winced.
"How bad?" He swallowed. "Jesus, of course it's bad. I barely touched it and you–" Sebastian took a deep breath. His body was stock-still and tense. Anger was seeping from every pore on his body, I'm not letting that twat ruin any more of this day.
"It's fine. It hurts but I'll be okay. I'm fine, Sebastian." He looked up and glared at me. Such a drama queen with his glares. I pressed my finger to the furrow between his brows and smoothed it out. Forcing it to lay flat; I failed.
"Seriously, I'm okay." I was hoping my smile was placating, I'm not sure I succeeded.
"I hate when you say 'you're fine' and 'it's fine' when it clearly is not." Ah, there was the detached voice I was trying to avoid. "Being assaulted with a scalding beverage is not fine, Darlin'."
I sighed. I didn't want to argue. Maybe if I repeated it enough, it'd actually come true. "Look, it will be awkward when she comes in for the confirmation, but I'll stay out of the way. I promise not to punch her either, I'm sure that wouldn't be good for business." This was the wrong thing to say apparently for Sebastian started to turn really, really red.
"Do you think that lowly of me?" He was gritting his teeth. I looked at him confused. "I don't keep clients that assault my employees, Lia. Please don't insult me and insinuate that I would allow that woman back in here. Friend of the family or not, she steps one toe through that front door and I'll toss her out myself."
I swallowed and nodded. "I just thought because of the circle and all–"
"The 'circle', as you so call it, means nothing to me. Especially not when someone from it hurts you. Fuck, you could technically sue her for this, you realize that no?" He had a point but it was a headache not worth having.
"Anybody tell you you get extremely red when you're mad?" Yup, I was changing the subject, deal with it. "I feel like most of the time I've known you, I've made you that shade of Rojo."
"Are you speaking Spanish to me as a distraction?" He was trying not to smile, I could see him fighting the corners of his lips trying to tug up.
"I don't know what you're talking about. Also, my Spanish is embarrassingly inadequate. I'm merely pointing out an observation." I replied calmly. Sebastian rested his forehead on my knee and groaned.
"You're going to be the death of me, do you know that?"
"I'm picking up on that with the alarmingly high percentage of you being red around my person." I shrugged. He lifted his head and looked at me. His eyes darted across my features. His thumb was fingering the edge of the bandage, away from where my burn was.
"We're going to need to change these dressings, Little Lia," He murmured, glancing back at my arm. I rested my hand over the one that was still holding it.
"I know, but can we do it at home?" I was hoping for a yes, now that the anger was taken out of my sails, I was feeling very exhausted. What I wasn't expecting was the warm smile he gave me.
"Yea, we can do it at home." He lifted my other hand, the one he had tended to. He brought it to his mouth and kissed the bandage, right over the injury.
I swooned and died right there on the sofa.
He popped up gracefully, like a feline. Stepping away with a hand extended my way. "Come on, Darlin'. Let's get you home." My hand plopped itself in his open palm. Allowing Ronaldo to pull me up to him.
I wondered if I could draft a graph chart of how many times he's offered me a hand, based on location and emotional turmoil. It might help ease the pitter-patter of my heartbeat whenever he looked at me the way he did now. The data bringing me just enough evidence to differentiate between fantasy and reality.
Because when Sweet Strawberry Fields watched me as he did, I had a real hard time believing the reality that these riotous emotions were truly one-sided. I guess that was my problem.
We dragged along the hallway for my things, abandoning the cleaning supplies for the morning. Out in the cold, in the dark, he threw his arm over my shoulder. Pulling me into the safety and warmth of his side. We didn't rush to his car, the cold eased some of the sting on my burn. Sebastian played with his key fob with one hand while drawing light shapes into my upper arm with the clingy one.
He helped me into the car, cautions of my bum calf and useless hands. I thought he was being overly cautious, but after our carousel from hell these last couple of weeks, I think placating his mothering ways was the least I could do. My eyes eased shut on our ride home. Unable to help themselves from resting during our peaceful ride.
Back at the condo, I found myself being led to the couch, guided through the simplest task of sitting and relaxing. Sebastian disappearing only long enough to fetch his first aid kit. It looked larger than before. In fact, it practically looked industrial. This was not the same kit. I lifted my left brow in question and accusation.
He responded with a half-assed shrug. "Given the most recent events, I thought it wise to upgrade." He sat down next to me. Nonplussed by my judgy eyes. Sweets gestured for my mummy arm, examining Heather's work quietly.
"Seems like an awful lot of supplies for such a short amount of time." He ducked his head at my words, focusing on removing the bandage with incredible tender care. Stopping at the slightest wince of tender flesh being tugged. He reached for the peroxide, looking at me with great sympathy.
"Just get it over with." I balled my jacket collar and stuffed it into my mouth. It tasted foul and I fought back my gag reflex. I didn't have to try for very long when he rested my arm over a towel that was draped across his knee and slowly poured the demon water across my marred surface. I hissed through my clenched teeth, the sound muffled.
"I'm so sorry, Darlin." The words danced across my poor blistered skin. Looking as red and angry as ever. The edges starting to prune while the white foam built over exposed raw skin. I was cooter punting that she-devil next time I saw her.
Finally, I wheezed the words that have been fighting their way up my throat for the better part of a minute. "S'okay."
He watched the foam dissipate shaking his head. "It's really not. This is my fault." Tenderly he patted my arm dry, doing one more dab of peroxide on a cotton ball, then moved to the burn ointment.
"You didn't do anything. Don't be daft, Sweets."
"I did plenty." He wouldn't look at me. "I made you sit through it with me. You didn't want to go near her. But I couldn't help myself. I needed you there and that put you right in her crosshairs. Fuck, Pints–" His guilt was clearly eating him up. Finally, he looked up, the heat in the whiskey making me sway. "It's me and you, she needed to see that. I wasn't going to let her walk all over you just because you were near me. Instead, all I did was ignite the fuse."
Oh, Ronaldo. Sweet well-meaning Ronaldo. I shushed my singing heart that was hung up on his proclamation of me and him. But that only led to other questions, like why is she so territorial over someone she doesn't even really talk to. The theory came at me like a freight train.
"You two didn't like, date or something?" Smooth Dalia. Super smooth. Way to extract the intel like a surgeon. "You know, would definitely explain the claws." Great save! Not.
Sebastian saw right through my abysmal attempt. "No, little Darlin'. Not even close."
"Hmmmm." I nodded non-committedly. Sweets peeked up at me in intervals with the hint of a smile as he readied the gauze meant to wrap my latest souvenir. He let out a deep sigh that rattled my bones with its sadness.
"You ever meet someone that just wants everything they think they deserve and blames everyone else for why it's not theirs?" He asked earnestly.
Bathilda's face made an unfortunate appearance in a matter of seconds. Yea, I definitely know one person like that. I nodded in reply.
"Well, the world Guin and Carissa travel in is filled to the brim with people like that. In fact, they're consumed by the greed that they stemmed from." He returned to lightly place the burn ointment on my arm. Rubbing the balm in small circles to ensure he covered it all but didn't hurt me.
His gentle care was touching, leaving a tightness in my chest that only pounded in the final nail into the coffin I had built for myself. "Not everyone in that world is like that, but sadly a majority can be." He paused for a moment, gathering a heavy breath. "I meant what I said about her. She wants everything and anything because she deems it's owed to her. I humored this shitshow as a favor to Mrs. Romaldo."
Curiosity flooded my brain like a breach in the dam. Why would Mrs. Romaldo reach out to him? I mean I guess they must have spoken while planning Carissa's masterpiece. I stamped down these new questions to focus back on Sebastian.
He was watching me intently, his thumb caressing the side of my arm that still lay in his cupped palm. Bourbon held my gaze like they were desperate to infiltrate my being. Coaxing me into images that weren't suitable for a porn convention let alone for reality.
This was how mistakes were made. How lines got crossed that should have been adhered to. Where actions couldn't be undone no matter how much they ruined. His eyes were encouraging, pulling me closer. The swipe of his thumb maddening to my willpower. He kept doing this to me. Reeling me in. Giving me unvoiced promises of a fantasy that could never happen.
We were stuck in a new cycle of pulling loose threads meant to hold hormone-driven mistakes at bay. I was afraid that he'd wear me down before I walked away for good. Ruining his chance at safety.
The only thing that kept me grounded, ensuring I wouldn't fuck this up now, was the dull sting of the air against my burn. "So if I called her a Grade A twat waffle, you wouldn't hold it against me?" I asked meekly. Trying to break the ever-present tension between us. Twisting the cold knob to drown out the fire he started. The one that refuses to die.
Inferno's are eternal.
Sebastian blinked several times before giving in to a smile. I thought there was disappointment but I couldn't be sure and I didn't dare to hope. "No, I wouldn't. I'm sure that's probably one of the tamest things she's been called." He smirked then looked down and resumed dressing my burn. Grabbing the clean gauze wrap.
I wanted to cave, desperately. I suspected it won't take much more for me to ruin all of this by throwing myself at him.
"There, all done." He broke my train of thought. I looked down.
"As good as new," I confirmed. He made a noise that felt a lot like a disagreement. Meh, agree to disagree. I placed my hand over his, willing him to meet my eyes. "How about a Movie Therapy session, Sweets."
"You're not too tired?" Worried eyes never dimmed. I shook my head.
"Okay for now, wouldn't be the first time I passed out either."
He smiled. "No, I guess not. You pick then." Sweets stood and pressed a light kiss to my forehead. Handing me the remote before cleaning up the kit. Stowing it away and all that it reminded him of.
Maybe one day this would be easier. Getting attached to people. Discovering new ways you're destined to hurt them. Then extracting yourself to prevent further damage.
Tonight it was a bitter pill to swallow, knowing what I was doing to our friendship. To us. But when Sweets sat next to me, letting me use him like a pillow, I pretended like this was my future. My tomorrow.
And that no amount of Bathilda could ruin it. It was my fantasy; what ultimately allowed me to breathe with some ease. I held onto it, silently praying that I could make it be.
It was my secret and my demise.