Page 110 of Second Sin

Barefoot, moving like his body forgot how to hold him up.

The shirt’s the same one from the gala. Wrinkled, sweat-stained, unbuttoned. Suit pants sag low on his hips, creased and dirty. His hair’s a mess. Face hollow. Stubble patchy. Eyes bloodshot. Knuckles split. Dried blood. Fresh bruises. Like he hit something hard and didn’t stop.

His eyes meet mine.

For a moment, something flickers there—hope? But then it vanishes, like a door slammed shut from the inside.

Back to the Sebastian I first met. Cold. Guarded. Masked.

The security guard clears his throat. "She was worried. Said she needed to check on you."

Sebastian doesn’t blink. Just nods once. "It’s fine. You can go."

He does.

And now it’s just us.

I don’t speak at first. Just walk forward, slow, careful, until I’m standing a few feet away. He doesn’t move.

"This isn’t who you are," I say softly. "I know you’re hurting, but this? This isn’t you."

He snorts. Bitter. "You have no fucking clue who I am. Thisisme. I ruin everything I touch. You were just next in line."

"Sebastian—"

"You should go."He turns away. Runs a hand over his face.

"I’m not leaving."

His jaw ticks. Shoulders tight.Like he’s barely holding himself together and one wrong word might shatter whatever’s left.

I stay quiet. For a breath. Then another.

Because I know that look.

Not anger—bracing.

Like he’s waiting for me to hurt him back. Or leave.

I take a step closer, slow and deliberate, like I’m approaching something wounded.

Because I am.

He doesn’t look at me. Just stares at the wall like it’s safer than facing me.

I want to touch him. God, I want to.

To press my hand to his chest and remind him he’s still here. Still breathing.Stillhim—beneath all the guilt and blood and silence.

But I don’t.

Not yet.

Because love isn’t enough when someone’s trying to disappear.

"You don’t have to let me in, Sebastian," I say softly. "But I’m here."

"You shouldn’t be," he mutters, voice frayed. His fingers fist in his hair, yanking hard like he’s trying to ground himself—or rip the thoughts out by the root. "Just leave."

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