Page 41 of Sebastian

“So, uh, did you get a chance to look at the questions I sent over?” Sebastian asks. He’s very deliberately not meeting my gaze and that’s fine, considering how combustible we are when we’re within proximity of each other, it’s probably safer that way if we want to make it through the entire dinner.

“I did. It looks great.”

“Anything you want to change?”

I shake my head. “Like always, you’ve got it covered.”

I can see his blush in the dim lighting of the restaurant, which means he must be blushing hard.

“Okay, cool. I’ll start responding to the inquiries tomorrow then.”

“Sounds good.”

“Sounds good. I mean, yeah, cool. Thanks.”

“Sebastian.” I hold out my hand to him.

He stares at it for a moment before setting his in mine again.

“Relax. Breathe.”

He does that breathing thing I’ve seen him do a few times now, where he takes a deep breath, holds it, then lets it out slowly. “Sorry. I can get a little…” He waves his other hand in the air like I’m supposed to know what that means.

“Yeah?”

He sighs and some of that frenetic energy seeps out of him. “Yeah. It’s this thing I have.” He peeks up at me through his lashes, then drops his gaze to the table again.

“A thing?”

“Anxiety. I get anxiety attacks sometimes.”

I sit up straighter and my hand tightens around his. “Oh, did you just…?”

“This? Oh no, this is normal everyday background anxiety,” he chuckles like it’s no big deal. “But yeah, it can get bad. I have medication for when that happens.”

I can’t say I’m surprised. With how tightly wound Sebastian is all the time, I can see how it can spiral out-of-control. “How often does it happen?”

“Uh, it depends?” He starts tracing patterns in my palm and I lay my hand flat on the table to be his canvas. “More often when I’m stressed. Sometimes I go for months without one and then I’ll get like three in a row.”

The waiter comes back to interrupt us again. Sebastian orders his lasagna and I get a grilled fish. Then I go back to our conversation because this feels like an important part of who Sebastian is, and I want to know everything there is to know about him.

“What causes it to happen more often?”

“You mean triggers?” Sebastian shrugs. “Could be any random thing. That’s what sucks about it. If there was a finite list of triggers, at least I’d know to avoid them. It can be something someone says, or something I read, or something I’ve let myself dwell on for too long. It’s like getting trapped in this spiral, and every thought leads to something worse, and there’s no way out. It paralyzes me. Like, physically. And… yeah.”

I bring his hand to my lips and kiss his palm, my heart aching for him. I want to strip all that anxiety away like they’re barnacles clinging to his skin. I want to wrap him up so they can’t get to him again. “Is there anything that helps?”

He rubs his thumb against my cheek, through the short stubble of my beard and I hum at the tingling sensation it sends through me.

“This helps,” he says softly.

“This?” I kiss his palm again and it draws the sweetest smile from him.

“Stuff that pulls me out of my own head. So yeah, you, when you touch me, it’s grounding.”

“Hmm.” If touching him keeps the anxiety at bay, then I’ll happily follow him around every day groping him.

“You must think I’m crazy.” He ducks his head.

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