TW // Panic attack and Drug abuse
"I'M REALLY SORRY," I moan as he disinfects the floor. He sighs, standing up and checking over his work. "I'm 5'10 and only weigh like, 20 pounds. This was bound to happen one day."
Sebastian goes into his bathroom and washes his hands before returning to me. "Don't mention it. Last time I was drunk I nearly went splat on the concrete. I owed you one. Just don't let it happen again, okay?"
"No argument here," I say, leaning back on his bed and sighing. He sits next to me, his side unintentionally touching my waist.
"Are you sober?" he murmurs, bunching his hands up in his lap.
I smirk goofily. "I'm moderately functional."
"So that's a no, then," he mumbles. "Will your aunt freak if you sleep over here again?"
I shake my head. "She's a surgeon. She's doing a 78-hour surgery." I giggle. "Maybe it was only 28 hours. Either way, she won't be home for a while."
I look over at him, his chiseled jawline, his sandy blonde hair, the small sunspots on his cheeks and the side of his neck. I'd known him for so long yet I hadn't noticed the small details. Had he always had a small cut along his left side jaw? Had his hair always curled at the part closest to the nape of his neck? Sebastian turns around and catches me looking, smiling surprisedly. "What?"
"Nothing," I answer quickly, tearing my eyes away from him and ignoring the fast beat of my heart at getting caught staring. "You should go back to the party," I murmur, voice quiet. "They're probably looking for you. It is your party."
"It's dying down, anyways," he says, shrugging it off easily. "I should go see if I can find your girlfriend, though. Make sure she knows you're safe and staying here."
I yawn, turning my head to the side. "She's not my girlfriend," I mumble as I sink into his insanely comfortable bed.
If he hears me, he doesn't respond. After a minute or two, I look up to find the room empty. Sighing, I curl up into a ball onto his bed and shut my eyes.
I liked this side of Sebastian, the sensitive and nurturing one. It was refreshing, almost. Definitely a rare occurrence. I was sure I'd only seen it once, when he got Nolan Walker off my case. But even then, he was kind when I wasn't watching. Now, it was all I could see.
I don't know how long I lay there waiting for him to come back. By the time he does, I'm practically fast asleep, breathing deeply.
I hear the door shut and a soft sigh. There's the sound of clothes rustling and then a dip in the bed as he takes something from it. A pillow, maybe?
There's more rustling and I feel myself falling into an even deeper sleep. The last thing I remember is the feeling of someone taking off my shoes and slipping a blanket onto my body.
¥
"Come on, Annie, you can take one more hit!"
I peek out of my bedroom door and into the living space of our latest tiny apartment, sucking my bottom lip in. Mom takes a long stick and puts it in her mouth like a cigarette. She blows it back out, laughing maniacally with the other two men on the couch.
They continue passing around the stick for a little bit longer, the scent of marijuana filling up the apartment. I scrunch my nose. I hated that smell.
As one of the men is laughing, their eyes flicker over to me. My eyes widen as he grins, taking the stick and walking over to me. "Hey, kid. Wanna try it?"
"Please," Mom says, laughing loudly. "That kid is such a wuss. He'd never even consider it."
I suck in my bottom lip. I step out from behind the comfort of the door and take the stick from the man. As I'd seen a thousand times before, I take the stick and inhale it, blowing smoke from my mouth and nose. I begin coughing almost instantly, eyes tearing up and throat burning.
"See. Told you. Kid's just like his father," she says, sneering at me. The tears forming in my eyes were for a different reason than smoke. "Go to bed."
I sniff solemnly, coughing a few more times as I retreat into my room, shutting the door behind me. I pull the sheets off the bed and sprawl onto the empty bed, sobbing until I felt I was fully dried out.
I wake up with a start, sweat making my hair stick to the back of my neck. I pull the blanket off of me, suddenly feeling way too suffocated by the weight of it. I stand up quickly, grabbing my shoes and storming out of the bedroom, mind reeling.
"Braylen," a deep voice calls after me, but I don't stop walking. I make it through to the incredibly trashed living room, breathing heavily. I go to pull the front door open but it doesn't budge. It's locked. Sebastian appears next to me, placing a hand on my waist. I push his hand off, beginning to hyperventilate. "Braylen, what is it? What do you need?"
I look into his blue eyes, tears forming in my own. "Air. Air, I need air." I didn't even know if air would be enough. I felt as if something was suffocating my lungs from the inside out.
"Okay, just hang on," Sebastian urges. He goes to a keypad and types in a code before returning to me, grabbing my wrist. Instead of going out the front door as I assumed he would, he leads me out the sliding door in the back, the one that leads to the ocean.
My bare feet slip into the sand and I inhale the cool night air, pressing a hand to my turning stomach. I'd broken away from his grasp a while ago and I felt less trapped now. My feet trek deeper into the beach until I'm standing on the shore, only one step from getting soaked. I step forward a bit and the ocean greets me eagerly, water and sand finding their way up to my ankles and in between my toes. I sigh with relief, running a hand through my hair.
"Brayls," Sebastian murmurs, hand touching my shoulder. I turn to him and knock his hand off of me, my skin crawling like an open can of worms on the floor. I felt faint again, as if my body and mind would give up at any minute, as if my lungs would collapse in on themselves. "Hey, it's okay. You're safe, alright?"
Sebastian has backed several feet away from me and was shaking out the hand I'd pushed away. Guilt washes over me and I look over at him for a moment, cheeks flaming red. I turn back to the ocean and stuff my hands in my pockets, gnawing on my lip. "I'm sorry. I r-ruined your night. I threw up on your floor, stole your bed, and now this? All because of some stupid nightmare."
"Nightmare?" he asks, voice curious.
I shrug. "Not a nightmare, exactly. More like a memory. PTSD, or something. That's what my therapist used to call it. I internalize all the crap that I've gone through and sometimes it shows up in my dreams. Usually only when I'm drinking or getting high."
"Which is why you don't drink," Sebastian puts together. I just nod. "So why tonight?"
I shrug again. "Dunno. Thought maybe I was over it. Thought maybe I could be normal. For once in my life."
I chuckle bitterly and back away from the shore a bit, sitting on the sand instead. Sebastian follows, sighing a safe distance from me. I feel his eyes on me and shut my eyes. "Go ahead. Ask. I know you're dying to."
"You don't have to tell me anything," he says, sounding tired but firm. "Some things have to remain secret. I understand that."
"Why do you think that is?" I muse as I watch the moon's light twinkle on the water. "Wouldn't the world be so much better if everyone just told everyone everything? No confusion, no games, no lies. Just truth and honesty, all the time."
Sebastian snorts. "Yeah, well. I wouldn't last a day in that world. Everything I am is a lie."
I open my eyes and look at him and find to my dismay that he's already looking at me. "What is that supposed to mean, exactly?"
Sebastian shrugs, staring out at the water. "I don't know."
I gnaw on my bottom lip. "You do," I argue. "You just don't want to tell me."
He looks up, ready to argue but stops when he sees the playful smirk on my face. "So...if we lived in this 'world of truth,' what would be the first thing you'd ask someone? Anyone?" I ask.
Sebastian scrunches his nose, thinking. "I'd ask Mr. Davidson why he insisted on wearing that tattered grey suit jacket every single day. I mean, at this point it just smells like death. I can't believe he's worn it every day since we were—"
"Freshmen," I finish, and we both laugh heartily. "Good question, good question. The first thing I'd do is go to a bank; I'd ask them what's the combination to all of the safes and they'd have to tell me. Then it's technically not a robbery, eh?"
Sebastian snorts. "Braylen, you'd get arrested in five seconds."
"Not true! I know how to fight," I say and hold up two fists for good measure. Sebastian laughs and grabs my fist, bringing my hand back down to my side. His hand lingers for a bit too long. He sends me a small smile and lets go. "I know what I'd ask you," I whisper.
He raises his eyebrows. "Yeah? What's that?"
I pretend to zip my lips up and he groans. "Seriously, Adams? You're going to really do that to me?"
I chuckle softly, turning my head back to the ocean. He shoves my shoulder and I nudge him back, laughing. "Okay, okay," I concede, still chuckling. "If I'm being honest, I have a million things I could ask you."
He contemplates this. "Shoot."
I bite on my lip and decide to just ask the first question that comes to mind. "Do you remember Nolan Walker? Eighth grade?"
Sebastian clicks his tongue as he thinks and after a moment or so he nods. "Yeah, I think so. His parents own an oil refinery, right?"
I shrug because I wasn't the sort of person to keep up with things like that but it makes sense that that's how Sebastian would remember him. "He started that rumor. That I was gay," I whisper, sounding hollow. I clear my throat and turn to Sebastian. "Robyn told me that you fought him in the cafeteria that same day. So I guess my question is why? Was it because of me?"
I'm surprised to see the blush that takes over Sebastian's face, even in the dark. "I wasn't expecting that question."
"Well, now you've got to answer," I remark.
Sebastian lets out a breath. "Well, first things first, I think we can both agree that it was a long time coming. Nolan was a complete douchebag. I figure if I broke his arm or something I'd be doing the entire school a service."
"But..," I urge. Sebastian looks over at me and smiles softly.
"But I hated him for doing that to you," he admits. "Don't get me wrong, I love to see you humiliated just as much as the next guy."
I furrow my brows. "Thanks?"
"But, I don't know. That felt too far," he continues. "I know you and I pull stuff on each other, but that was different. I didn't find it funny. Him calling you gay. I mean, even if you weren't, it's a crappy thing to do to somebody and in front of the whole school? And, if I'm being honest, I don't necessarily like the idea of someone else tormenting you. I kinda thought I'd had that spot reserved."
I look over at him, smiling surprisedly. "I guess I should thank you, then."
Sebastian chuckles. "You shouldn't. I've made your life hell for so long. One moment of kindness doesn't cancel that out."
I look down at my feet in the sand and barely even whisper my next words. "I don't think it was just one moment."
I can feel his eyes on me even before I look up to see them. But then I'm looking away and out at the beach instead, taking in the sights.
"It's really pretty out here," I remark. "You're lucky to call this place home. I feel like an actual Californian."
Sebastian sighs. "A nice house and a nice beach don't make this home, Brayls."
"What does make it home, then?"
"I'll let you know when I figure it out," he says and then sends me a trademark Sebastian smirk. I smile back tentatively, knowing he was avoiding talking about why this place didn't feel like home to him. "You know what's gnarly, though?"
"Please tell me you didn't actually use the word 'gnarly' in a sentence," I mumble, but he ignores me.
"I come out here, like, every weekend morning and just surf. Don't have to pretend to be happy or anything, you know? I can just be myself. Just me, my board, and the waves. It's the most epic thing in this world."
I scrunch my nose. "I've never been surfing."
"You're kidding, right?" Sebastian says. "You've lived here for more than half your life, how don't you—?"
"Well, I'm not that strong of a swimmer, in all honesty," I admit. "5-foot pools? No problem. But I've never been much of a deep end swimmer. Thus, I've never been surfing," I laugh.
Sebastian laughs too. "I could give you lessons. Maybe every Saturday morning?"
I stare at him, trying to hide the surprise from my face. I wasn't sure it worked. "Careful, Sebby. You're starting to sound like we're actually friends."
He makes a face at me and I laugh before sticking out my hand. He shakes it once.
"You've got yourself a deal, Grey."