Chapter Text
I’m in the bathroom and I can just barely hold it together. And I know that locking myself in here, away from my friends during what was supposed to be the perfect night, is the only way I can guarantee that no one will see my cry.
Honestly, up until thirty minutes ago things were going great, or as great as they could be, with him there.
–––––––
“Last I checked, the afterparty hasn’t been moved to the bathroom.”
“I’ll just be a minute!” That sounded normal enough, right?
“What’s wrong?” Apparently not.
“What do you mean? I’m – I’m just freshening up a bit.”
“What’s bothering you?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” I try to laugh it off, but the pressure in my chest is a little too tight and it comes out as more of a gasping noise than a light chuckle. I clear my throat. “I told you, I’ll be out in a bit. It’s getting late, we can just hang out tomorrow.”
He ignores this. “You would’ve made about five sarcastic comments in the last two minutes if everything were fine,” he pauses. “And you certainly wouldn’t hide away for fifteen minutes after your own birthday party. Especially when you always refuse to let me leave without helping you clean up.”
Shit . “Seba, I told you, I’m –”
“Cut the crap. I watched you blow out the candles. I saw that look you made after you made your wish, and you looked up at me for a split second. And that look you had on your face, as if you were going to start crying right then and there. You masked it quickly, but I saw it. I’m not going to stand here and pretend I didn’t see it.”
“I don’t know what you’re –”
“Yes you do,” he interjects. “Because an hour ago I’m handing you a drink and the next thing I know, I see your face crumple like that again. And –” he takes a breath. “And it fucking broke my heart.”
I stand there, stunned.
“So, are you going to tell me what I did wrong?” he asks.
“You didn’t –”
“Because you’re my best friend,” he reminds me. “And I feel like I have a right to know what I did that made you make that face.”
There’s a beat of silence, and he says, lower. “Because I would do anything to make sure I never see it again.”
I stand still, my gaze fixed at the door separating us. I’ve really done it now.
He calls out my name, sounding more desperate than I ever thought him capable of being.
And that does it. The tears I had been so desperately trying to hold back through every conversation with him I’d not not only had tonight, but since the day I realized I loved him, could no longer be contained. I’ve reached the point of no return, and the person I want to run to the most is also the one who I cannot possibly bear to see me like this.
The stretch of silence following my name from his lips feels unending. I feel like I’ve been standing in front of the door, with my face painfully scrunched in a vain attempt to stop the tears from falling, for an eternity. That is until it’s broken by my shuddering gasp for air.
He says my name again, only this time his voice has shifted. Even though the distance between us has not changed, I can feel his voice everywhere now. It has penetrated the walls and filled every corner of the room. I realize this is the first time he has ever seen me cry.
No, he still cannot see me . He can only hear me, which means there’s still time to fix this before it goes from bad to worse.
“C’mon princess, don’t cry sweetheart,” he beckons. “ Please . Just come out and we can fix it, I swear.”
Those nicknames, which he sometimes throws around fondly and always makes my chest tighten in joy every time I hear them, feel worse now. It feels torturous and cruel to hear him casually call me the things I wished he truly meant. And that only makes me cry harder.
“I-I’m begging you,” his voice sounds strained, and I feel beyond guilty for putting him in such an uncomfortable situation.
“I’m fine,” I manage. “I’m sorry, I’ll be okay in a sec.”
“But you never cry,” he says.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“Stop apologizing,” he says firmly. “Now, can you please come out?”
“I can’t.”
“Now why’s that?”
“Because,” I squeeze my eyes shut as more tears spill over. “You can’t see me like this. I don’t want it to change anything. I don’t want this to affect our friendship.”
“Well what if I want it to?” he counters.
“What?”
“What if I want it to affect our friendship?” he sighs. “What if I want you to think you can come to me when you’re upset? Do you really think I’d push you away when you’re like this?”
I can’t answer. All I can do is let out a pathetic sob at the kindness of his words.
At my heightened crying he stammers, “I’m sorry, did I say the wrong thing? I just meant –”
“No!” I gasp.
“No?”
“No,” I can’t help but smile a little.
“Well, look, I’m not going to force you to come out,” he says. “If you really, truly want to be alone, I get that, and I’ll leave and you can come out whenever you’re ready.”
Good , I think. I can work with that .
“But if the only reason you’re not coming out is because you’re afraid of how I’m going to react, then I’m the one who fucked up the friendship for making you think you always need to be in a good mood when you’re around me,” his voice softens. “I’ll leave you alone if you want, but please don’t try to push me away.”
Damn . I almost let out a huff of laughter, because I know that no matter what I promised myself, he always weakens my resolve. And it’s at this moment where I realize just how exhausted I am – how nearly two years of suppressing my true feelings have been slowly eating away at me. And the weight of my misery becomes unbearable, and all I want is to relinquish the terrible ache in my chest.
More tears dribble down my cheek, falling swiftly down my throat and disappearing under the neckline of my dress. I don’t bother to wipe them as I stare into my reflection in front of me. I see the hollowness of my eyes, the way I look pallid in the dim bathroom light, and I know that I can hardly handle the weight of my secret for much longer. I give myself an almost imperceptible nod of understanding before reaching for the door handle, throwing common sense out the window.
“Princess?” he asks. My chest tightens at the sound of that stupid nickname again. It started as a joke, him teasing me after I shared my love of fantasy novels and fairy tales with him. And it stuck around, quickly becoming Sebastian’s favorite way to make my cheeks flushed and to cause me to shoot him an annoyed glare. I always told him I hated it, but after a while I began to carry it with a sense of pride. As much as it pained me to know he was only joking, it always made my heart contract in a way he was only capable of causing.
“Promise me one thing?” My voice is scratchy from the tears, but remains steady.
“Anything.”
“Shut your eyes, will you?”
“Why’s that?”
“Not to brag or anything, but I’m certain I’m one of the ugliest criers out there. And I’m not sure if I can stand you seeing me like that,” I do my best at a joke. “Just for now, at least.”
“Yeah,” he says. “My eyes are closed, I promise.”
And with that, I will my hands to twist the doorknob and pull.
He’s perched at the very end of the bed, back straight and hands resting gently on his lap. He’s facing me, and I’m relieved to see that his eyes are still shut, as promised. I stand there for what feels like an endless stretch of time, too stunned to move. But slowly, his hands raise from their perch on his knees and his palms face up, beckoning.
It’s all the cue I need, and I step forward, placing my hands on his forearms, my grip shaky. With his eyes still shut, engulfs me in one of his bear hugs, staying seated on the edge of the mattress to account for our almost comical height difference. We’ve hugged plenty of times, more than I could count, but never with me crying into his shoulders. One hand rubs my back while the other gently smooths my hair in a calming motion, but the tenderness and kindness he shows only makes me cry harder.
“Can I open my eyes?” he murmurs. All I can manage amidst my sobs is a quick nod against his clavicle. He tries to pull back, but I figure that he can’t see my tear-swollen face if it’s buried in his sweater, so I remain firmly planted in the hug.
A few moments pass in this way, us pressed impossibly close and I can feel my heart rate begin to calm as my tears slowly subside. The exhaustion has saturated my body and I feel as though I could fall asleep on the spot when I hear him speak.
“You’ll tell me what I did wrong, won’t you?
I want to. Oh, how I want to. But I can’t, and I tell him so.
“Now why is that?” He doesn’t sound annoyed, his voice has an alien mix of its usual playfulness and a twinge of worry.
“Because– ” I whisper. “Because you’ll hate me.”
“Impossible,” he says. “You’re one of my best friends; I don’t think I could hate you even if I wanted to.”
“I’m not kidding. As much as I want to tell you why I looked at you like that tonight,” my voice is slightly muffled with my face buried in his sweater. “I know it’ll ruin our friendship forever, and I – I don’t think I could bear it.”
“You’re not making any sense. I thought I was the one who upset you ,” he manages to pull away, untangling my arms from around his neck. He slowly rises from his perch, towering above me as he rests his hand on my shoulders. I won’t look at him though, so I lock my gaze onto the floor. “Seriously, darling, you know I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to, but you’re starting to scare me.” His confession makes my heart ache impossibly.
He brings his hand underneath my chin and slowly guides my face up to meet his. A few more tears escape my swollen eyelids, and he gently brushes them away. “I want to tell you,” I avert my gaze, not being able to stand the intensity of his eyes on mine. “But I know how it’ll end. And I know you’ll resent me for it.”
“Please don’t say that,” he bends his neck to try to meet my eyes. “There’s nothing that you could say to me right now that would make me even think about hating you, okay?”
“But there is,” I grip his forearms, relishing our closeness one last time. Because I can feel my resolve collapsing. And I know that I’m going to be the most selfish I’ve ever been and ruin the most perfect thing in my life, just to give myself a moment of peace. “And I–” I cringe at how my voice begins to break all over again. “And I thought I was fine keeping it to myself all this time, but I just – I can’t go on like this.”
I stagger backwards, and I watch him take in my panicked state. “I– I can’t eat, or– or sleep,” My fingers begin to nervously tangle themselves in my hair, twisting the strands tightly around my hands. “And I know you don’t deserve this, but I can feel myself going crazy and I know that I can’t keep this up.”
He slowly takes a step forward, his brow knotted in concern. “Keep what up?”
“I can’t keep pretending that I’m not in love with you.”
There it is. Now you’ve done it .
He starts to say my name, but I cut him off quickly. “No, just let me finish,” I bury my face in my hands, knowing damn well that I cannot possibly handle his reaction. I try my best to steady my breathing. “Because if I don’t do this now, it’ll just continue to eat away at me until I won’t even recognize myself.”
I take his silence as a cue to keep going. I remove my hands from my eyes but focus my attention on the floor. My eyes catch on a potted plant in the corner of the room by the window, and I keep my gaze focused on it as I utter my confession.
“I thought it was just a little crush,” my voice isn’t much louder than a whisper. “When we met a couple years ago. And then it was like one day I blinked and you and I had become best friends. And I couldn’t remember a time when I was so – happy.”
I’m crying now, in earnest. I take another moment to gather my strength, and go on, refusing to look up at him.
“I thought us being best friends would be enough, and for a while it was. I was fine loving you platonically, because I figured having you as a friend would be better than not having you at all. But my feelings never went away, they just grew stronger and stronger and–,” I furtively wipe at my eyes; my tears have blurred my vision almost completely. “And I knew that you would never love me the way I love you, because guys like you don’t date girls like me. They go on to date models or actresses, the type of girl you brag home to your friends about.
“And I feel terrible because I’ve lied to you our entire friendship. I feel like this secret has just been festering inside of me and honestly I’ve been so miserable when I wake up every morning thinking that this is it, this is the day he’ll find someone else and I will truly be nothing to him. But no matter how badly I try to protect myself from getting hurt in the end, I just can’t stay away from you.” I let out a weak laugh at the irony of it all.
“Every time I get a text from you my stomach actually does a backflip. And– and whenever we hang out I laugh so hard and I feel like I can talk to you about anything without worrying what you’d think of me,” a pause. “You’re just my sun Seba, and I’m so sorry for dumping all this on you when you clearly only see me as a friend.”
I’m rambling now. I know it, but I find it impossible to stop until he says, “Now why would you think that?”
I jerk my chin up to meet his eyes. He’s standing closer now, and I have to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact.
“Because,” I whisper. “Because you could never love me.”
It feels like time stops when he murmurs, “Who said that?”
I shake my head, and viciously swipe my hands over my cheeks, doing my best to dry my face. “No. No, Sebastian, don't say things you don’t mean. I know we joke around a lot but I would never fuck with your feelings like that,” I can feel the panic rising in my chest.
“I’m-”
“You don’t have to let me down gently, but please, please don’t be cruel.”
“Please, give me a chance to speak, will you?” He grips my shoulders gently, placing his face in front of mine. And then he does the thing I least expect him to at this moment: he grins . “Could you just pump the brakes for a second so I can tell you that I love you too?”
I stare at him, stunned. This is a cruel joke , I tell myself. There is no way he feels this way– he’s just joking to try to make you feel better. He probably means that he loves you platonically, not that he’s in love with you .
He takes my stupefaction as a cue to go on. “You do realize that I’ve been crazy about you for years now, right?”
I somehow manage to find my voice. “What?” I whisper.
“I just didn’t know where you stood so I never had the guts to ask you out,” He lets out a breathy laugh and runs his hands through his hair. “Oh god if I had known that you liked me back even a little I would’ve said something! I–I just thought you never saw me like that,” He trails off. He stops his ministrations and turns to me suddenly. “Princess, I am so sorry. All this time you felt like you couldn’t be yourself around me, like you couldn’t just tell me how you felt.”
I’m still staring at him, dumbfounded. I’ve realized that I still haven’t stopped crying, much to my absolute humiliation. If what he’s saying is true , I think, then why on god’s green earth can’t you calm down? But at this point the panicked sobbing has taken a new shape, now strangely mixed with exhaustion, giddiness, and confusion. I attempt a smile, but I imagine it looks very off-putting, considering my emotional state.
His hand on my arm breaks me out of my thoughts. “Sorry,” I furtively wipe my eyes. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me – I mean, I should be jumping up and down with joy, but,” I release another shuddering breath. “I can’t seem to calm down.”
The look he gives me is one I’ve seen many times before, though I never knew how to describe it. Calling it a look of kindness or interest didn’t seem like it was enough to describe the depth of his stare, and it felt too far to call it a look of worry. Only now after these past few minutes have I understood what his gaze is implying. It was more than affection, it felt like love .
“Hey,” he murmurs. “It’s okay, you’ve been through quite a bit just now, poor girl.”
I laugh a little at that. “That’s a good way to sum it up.”
He smiles again, and my stomach does more than just flip, it somersaults and launches itself into a dive roll. And then he pulls me into his arms again, and though I can’t stop the tears leaving my eyes, I feel like I can at least control my breathing a bit more.
“Now I know you have a tendency to overthink,” he says after a moment or two. “But there can’t be any of that right now, alright? Don’t think about tomorrow or this new thing between us, alright?”
I pause, but relent with a small nod.
He continues. “I care about you like I always have, and my priority right now is to make sure you’re okay.” His hand rubs reassuring circles on my back as he speaks. “It’s late now, and you must be exhausted after everything tonight.”
I let out a small hum of agreement. Now that he mentions it, I feel absolutely wiped out, and a dull pain has begun to take roots in my temples. Sebastian gently moves back, pushing an unruly lock of hair behind my ear and taking in the sight of me in front of him. For what felt like the millionth time, I feel myself becoming self-conscious. I know how red and swollen my face becomes after I’ve cried, and I’m willing to bet that the mascara running down my cheeks gives my features an added air of lunacy.
But if he found my current state of distress at all off-putting, he doesn’t show it. “How about you let me deal with some of the mess in the living room, while you wash your face and wind down a bit?” he suggests.
“Yeah,” my breath still comes out a little shaky as I restate his commands. “No overthinking.”
He nods, seeming satisfied with my answer. “And when I come back tomorrow, we’ll talk, and then you can let that brain of yours ask a hundred and one questions as it always does. But not until then,” he finished with a smile.
I can feel my heart start to drop at his words
“You’re not staying?”