Page 75 of Time After Time
“I stopped therapy after a year or two of being here, online sessions every Tuesday and Thursday, drawing, and talking to my therapist. She tried to find every corner of my mind where my father had dug himself in, where he made me fearful, shy, quiet.” He chuckled, but it was laced with bitterness. “When my mum told me I didn’t need to keep going anymore, that therapy was finished, I felt this strange kind of sadness. My therapist had been kind. She helped me. I was going to miss her. But at the same time, I felt... relieved. I didn’t look over my shoulderanymore. I didn’t sleep with the light on. I didn’t wet the bed when I heard a sound at night, thinking he was back.”
I wanted to puke. Sebastian didn’t talk much about his dad. I didn’t need him to. Some things were just too painful to revisit, and I could feel that in the way he avoided the subject.
“Having to go back to therapy made me feel like that Sebastian again—the scared one, the one lacking confidence. All those negative feelings that didn’t feel likeme. But now I know it’s not like that. Little Sebastian was brave. He kept fighting, kept doing the things he loved, kept smiling, kept being himself. And this Sebastian is no different. I’m still strong. I’m still the person I was before my injury—same hopes, same dreams, same everything.”
Therapy didn’t make him weak. It took strength to face the things that haunted you. Real strength. It meant being willing to let go of the pain you’d got used to, even if it had become a part of you. The sadness, the anxiety, the quiet hurt. Wanting to feel better wasn’t weakness. It was courage. And to me, he was brave. He was strong. He always would be.
He chuckled, and I glanced at him, confused, as his left hand reached up to my face, his thumb pressing against the furrow between my eyebrows. “That’s going to stay there if you don’t relax,” he said with a smile. His eyes glistened, not with pain, but with something lighter—like a weight had been lifted off him. It was as if he had been afraid we might react badly.
“I know exactly what you’re thinking and what you want to say. I do,” he continued, his voice softening. “I guess my mind just… played tricks on me, made me feel likethat. That’s why I decided I needed help, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I?—”
“Sebastian.” I stopped him, needing him to hear me. “We wouldn’t have been upset about you needing to talk to a professional. Because we knew it was for your own good, we would have been happy and encouraging. We’ll always wantwhat’s best for you, and I know you know that. But it feels like there’s something else going on, something deeper. Something that scares you a bit more.”
He sighed again, and this time, the sound seemed to come from deep within him, making his entire body shudder with the release. “She… I told her about the apprenticeship. I told her I thought the right thing to do was to call Reth, let him know what happened—even if it means he might choose someone else.”
The weight of his words hit me hard, and I realised I hadn’t thought about that possibility in such detail. I could see it now, the fear of disappointing everyone, of losing something he’d worked so hard for.
“A part of me just wants to pretend it’s not happening, to ignore it, and go to America like nothing’s wrong. Just show up and say, ‘Hey, I’ve got a mid-shaft fracture.’ But I know that wouldn’t be fair. Not to him, not tome.”
I watched him struggle with those words, the way his jaw clenched and his eyes flickered with doubt.
“So… are you going to call him?” I asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.
He nodded slowly, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He shook it in his hand as if waiting for some kind of magic, as if the phone might offer a sign or a response to guide him.
“I’ll be here,” I whispered, moving a little closer, letting my chin rest on his shoulder. When he turned toward me, our eyes locked, and for a moment, his lips brushed against the tip of my nose. He didn’t pull away but puckered them slightly, pressing the softest, most gentle kiss there. “If you want me to,” I added softly.
“I always want you with me, Gen.”
With a final, tender kiss, he handed me his phone. Without a word, I tapped through his contacts, my heart pounding as I found the name.
Glancing at him one last time, I hit call.
My eyes never left Sebastian, my mind racing with the thought of how fast his heart must have been pounding. Unable to stop myself, I placed the hand that wasn’t holding the phone over his chest, desperate to feel his heartbeat beneath my fingers. Mine was thundering in my chest, so loud it almost drowned out the dial tones.
His smile faltered when he noticed what I was doing, and it wavered even more when Reth’s voice came through the phone, calling his name.
But Sebastian didn’t move. He froze. No words. No shift in his posture. If my hand hadn’t been pressed against his chest, I would have sworn he wasn’t even breathing. He didn’t blink once, his entire body locked in a moment of silence that felt like it stretched on forever.
“Sebastian,” I whispered his name, my hand gently rubbing circles on his chest, hoping to pull him back from wherever his mind had drifted. When Reth’s voice called his name louder from the phone, Sebastian finally inhaled deeply, blinking rapidly as a shiver seemed to course through his spine.
“Are you there?”
He coughed, struggling to clear his throat, his eyes meeting mine as he searched for reassurance. I nodded, silently encouraging him to speak.
“Yes, I’m here.” His voice trembled, and the rawness in it made every rise and fall of his words twist my heart. I wanted so badly to speak for him, to make it easier, but this was something he had to do on his own.
Reth must have sensed something was off, because the next thing I knew, the call turned into a video call. I watched his gaze shift, eyes scanning Sebastian before they finally landed on his right arm. Sebastian’s nervous smile barely flickered as he stared into the screen.
“That doesn’t look good,” Reth commented, his tone even, but with an unmistakable edge of concern.
Sebastian laughed, but it was a hollow sound, heavy with exhaustion. His gaze dropped to his arm, and after taking a deep, steadying breath, he began to explain what had happened.
Hearing it all over again sent a cold knot tightening in my stomach. The words he spoke only deepened that pit, and the memory of that day made me ache to gather him up in my arms, wrap him in a blanket, and shield him from everything and everyone that could hurt him forever.
Even though I was listening carefully, my attention kept drifting to Reth. I studied his face, looking for any flicker of emotion, any subtle sign that might give me insight into what he was feeling. But there was nothing. No change in his expression that I could read. His face was a mask, too controlled for me to figure out what he was thinking, what he felt about all of this.
“Okay, fuck.” The words slipped from Reth’s mouth before he could stop them, and I could feel the weight of Sebastian’s heartbreak. This was his first real interaction with Reth—the pastry chef he’d admired for so long. Until now, they’d only exchanged emails about bookings and logistics, and more recently, a few text messages about their creations, recipes, and other little things. They had become closer. But this was their first video call. “That’s unexpected.”
