Evelyn and I walked through the school gates side by side.
As we approached the front steps, I spotted Sebastian near the lockers with Luke, leaning casually against the wall like he hadn't spent last night carrying someone else's pain. His eyes met mine briefly, a quiet softness there that made my chest tighten. I smiled faintly.
But Carter wasn't there.
What I did see, though, was Emily. Smiling. Brightly. Practically glowing beside Brad, who was whispering something in her ear that made her laugh in that over-performed, fake way I used to pretend was charming. My stomach twisted.
So this is how it was going to be.
I turned away, heading toward my locker, but I didn't get far before her voice cut through the hallway like nails on glass.
"He was a mess, Brad. I mean, he's a druggie. What was I supposed to do—date him out of pity? Please."
I froze. My heart sank so fast it left a hollow echo in my ribs.
She didn't say that. She didn't just—
My feet moved before I could think. "What the hell, Emily?"
She blinked, as if surprised I was still capable of speaking. "What?"
"How could you say that about him?"
"I'm just telling the truth," she said, lifting one shoulder like it didn't matter. "Everyone deserves to know. I mean, what if the school's reputation gets dragged through the mud because of him? It's not my fault he can't keep his life together."
Her voice was casual, like she was discussing the weather. Like Carter wasn't a person who once gave her his heart. Like he hadn't fallen apart in silence.
"You're unbelievable," I whispered. "You're actually a bitch, you know that? And to think I once called you my best friend."
"Whoa, whoa," Brad chimed in with his usual arrogance, stepping between us. "Calm down, princess. Why are you defending Carter so hard all of a sudden? Are you two back together now?"
His gaze slid toward Sebastian, and then he smirked. "Or are you just playing both sides? Gotta say, Liv—you really know how to keep things interesting. Banging both the boys, huh? Respect."
And something inside me snapped.
My fist flew before I realized what I was doing. Brad stumbled back, a stunned expression on his face, like he didn't think I had it in me. "You bitch—!"
He lunged, but before he could get close, Sebastian was there—grabbing him by the collar and slamming him against the locker.
"Don't. You. Dare. Touch her."
His voice was cold. Flat. Deadly.
I wasn't sure who looked more shocked—me or Brad.
Everything spiraled so fast. People were whispering. Staring. Someone snorted and shouted, "Hey, Carter, wanna score?"
Carter.
I turned and saw him walking in, a backpack slung over his shoulder, eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on Emily—and then flicked away when she looked right through him like he didn't exist.
His expression crumbled. Just for a second. Just long enough for the pain to flash in his eyes before he tucked it away.
He walked up just in time to hear someone yell, "Hey, Carter! Wanna score?"
Laughter.
Another voice: "Where's your stash, man?"
I turned. It was Brad. Brad—who used to call Carter his best friend. Now standing there, mocking him like they'd never shared a single moment of real friendship.
Carter didn't say anything. Just walked past the chaos, straight to Sebastian.
Seb turned toward him, brows furrowed, but Carter just spoke loud enough for everyone to hear.
"Get out of here. All of you."
There was something in his voice—firm, grounded, unfamiliar. People actually listened. The crowd dispersed, some grumbling, some snickering, but they left.
Carter's locker was beside mine. Of course. Because the universe was committed to the awkward setup.
He turned to me, softer now. "How are you?"
"I should be asking you that," I said gently.
He just gave me a small smile
"Don't listen to them," I said quietly, stepping closer. "They're all just... douches. They like to bully anyone who's easier to poke than fix themselves. You're just their latest excuse to feel bigger."
"I know," he said. "I don't care what they think of me anymore. Let them talk. Let them have their fun. I've got more important things to do now."
He glanced at me then.
"I told my dad," he said, voice low but sure. "Last night. I told him everything. He's... he's helping me figure out what comes next."
My chest tightened—not in fear or sadness, but something like pride. Like relief. Like watching someone finally step out of a cage they never deserved to be in.
"You were right," he added, and he didn't say thank you, but it was there, folded into every word.
Sebastian was standing nearby, arms crossed, silent. Watching.
Carter turned to him and nodded once—something heavy in that moment, like a truce quietly signed.
I raised a brow. "Wait... are you two, like, friends now?"
Before either of them could respond, Luke chimed in from behind me. "Don't ask, Liv. They were plotting against you the other night."
"What?"
Sebastian groaned and smacked Luke in the back of the head.
"Don't listen to him," he muttered. "He's an idiot."
I laughed, "I mean, you are not wrong about that".
"Hey!" Luke protested. "You used to be so innocent, Liv. When did you get so mean?"
I rolled my eyes. "Since I started hanging out with guys like you."
Carter laughed under his breath. "As much as I'd love to stay and be part of this emotionally confusing teen drama, I should go. I have to head home—my dad's already made a few calls. We're figuring it out together."
I blinked—something caught in my throat. And before I could second-guess myself, I stepped in and hugged him.
He stiffened for a second—then relaxed into it. His arms wrapped around me gently. Not possessively. Not with longing.
Just warmth. Gratitude. Closure.
It didn't feel like the past. It felt like goodbye.When I pulled back, there was a quiet between us—comfortable, for the first time.
I'd finally let him go. Carter nodded, smiling faintly. "Take care of yourself, Liv."
Then he glanced at Sebastian. "And don't mess it up," he added with a half-smirk.
Sebastian tilted his head. "No pressure, huh?"
I blinked. What?
I looked between the two of them, eyebrows drawn, trying to make sense of the strange exchange. They weren't exactly best friends twenty-four hours ago, and now they were dropping mysterious one-liners
Carter gave a short wave and walked off, shoulders lighter than I'd seen them in months.
I watched him go, and then turned back to Sebastian, who was still looking at me—expression unreadable, but his eyes lingering just a little too long.
There was something in the silence between us.Something waiting.And maybe I was finally ready to reach for it.
After class, I went straight to the café and buried myself in work, pretending that wiping tables and brewing coffee could scrub away the gnawing feeling inside me. I kept glancing at my phone like it owed me something. I'd messaged Sebastian earlier about practice. No reply. I told myself he was probably busy. Then I messaged again. Still nothing.
"What the hell…" I whispered under my breath, locking my phone with a frustrated sigh.
On the drive home, my thoughts spiraled. Is he ignoring me? Did I say something wrong? Did I push him away again? I hated how quickly my brain defaulted to abandonment, like it was some kind of muscle memory. I tried to brush it off, telling myself not to be that girl. Not again. He's allowed to be busy. Stop being toxic. Breathe.
But it didn't feel like that. It didn't feel like space. It felt like silence. And silence from him… hurt in ways I didn't have names for.
Later, I was curled up in bed, phone by my side like some pathetic extension of hope, when it rang. and I saw the caller id it was Luke.
My heart stopped. I sat up so fast I nearly threw the phone across the room. I stared at his name like it was some kind of warning.
I answered, breath caught in my throat. "Hello?"
"Liv…" His voice was shaking.
Everything inside me went cold. "Luke? What—what's going on?"
"Come to my flat. Now. Please."
"Wait—what? Why? What happened? Is everything okay? Is Seb—?"
"Please don't ask questions. Just come."
And then he hung up.
I was already halfway out the door. My hands trembled as I grabbed my keys. My heart was in my throat, my mind a blur. Every thought was a scream.
Is he hurt? Did something happen? Oh God, please don't let it be what I think—please don't let it be that.
I sped all the way to Luke's, the steering wheel slippery under my palms, my breath shallow, barely there. I was whispering his name like a prayer, like maybe that would protect him.
When I got there, I didn't knock. I pushed the door open and ran inside.
And the second I stepped into the flat, everything inside me shattered.
The living room was wrecked. The couch knocked over, shattered glass glinting under dim light. It looked like a hurricane had hit.
Luke stood near the hallway, his expression tight, helpless. Not injured. But not fine.
And Evelyn—Evelyn walked out of the kitchen with red, swollen eyes. She looked like she hadn't stopped crying in hours.
My heart dropped. "Where—where is he?" My voice was barely a whisper.
She opened her mouth, tried to speak. Then stopped.
"Eve?" I stepped forward. "Where is he? Please."
Evelyn wiped her cheek with the sleeve of her hoodie. "In the room…"
I turned to go but she stepped in front of me, her hand catching mine.
"Liv… please. Don't judge him. Please."
"What do you mean?" My voice cracked.
"Just… just don't. He needs you right now. Not judgement."
I nodded, throat too tight to speak. My hand was shaking as I reached for the doorknob. As I pushed it open.
And then—I stopped breathing.
He was sitting on the floor, beside the bed, his back against the wall like he'd folded into himself. His shirt was torn, stained with something dark. There was a nearly empty bottle of beer in his hand. His knuckles were red, his wrist bleeding, and one of his eyes was swollen shut.
Sebastian looked like he'd been swallowed whole by his demons.
For a second, I couldn't move.
He didn't even notice I was there until I took a trembling step forward and knelt beside him. My hand reached out—tentative, careful—and touched his shoulder.
Seb," I whispered. The word nearly broke me in half.
His head jerked up. For a second, he looked at me like I was a hallucination. His lips parted, and then his eyes widened with panic. "W-What—what are you doing here?" His voice cracked, fragile and slurred at the edges.
I took a step toward him.
"No—don't—don't come closer," he stammered, turning his face away. "You're not supposed to see me like this. I didn't want you to see—" His voice splintered into silence.
He tried to push himself up, but I stopped him. "Don't move," I whispered. "Just… stay here."
"Don't look at me like that." His voice shook. "Please don't
I wanted to say a thousand things. That I wasn't scared of him. That I wasn't going to leave. That, whatever demons were tearing him apart, I would fight them too.
But all I managed was: "I'm here."
That was all I could give in that moment. And maybe it was enough.
I stood up and walked out of the room, brushing past Luke and Evelyn.
"First aid kit," I said. My voice didn't shake this time.
Luke nodded and hurried off. A minute later, he placed the box in my hands,
When I stepped back inside, Sebastian hadn't moved an inch.
He was still there, slumped like a broken thing against the bed, head bowed, wrist still bleeding slowly, like even his body had given up trying to heal.
And my God—he looked so far gone. So lost.
Like he didn't believe he was worth saving.
I sat down beside him, legs folded like a child, my fingers trembling as I opened the kit.
I reached for his hand.
His skin was cold.
And he didn't flinch away. Didn't stop me.
I took that bleeding, torn wrist into my shaking palms like it was something fragile. Like if I pressed too hard, the boy beneath the skin would vanish completely.
I cleaned the wound slowly, gently. The cloth was soaked with antiseptic, but all I could see was the red—so much red—and the way it stained the lines of his arm like it belonged there.
Like he was used to it.
He flinched when the alcohol stung, just slightly, but not a sound left him.
And I realized—He was used to pain.He had made a home out of it.
I couldn't hold it in anymore.
"Seb…" My voice cracked around his name. It felt like a prayer. Or a goodbye. And I didn't even know which one it was supposed to be.
"You don't have to say anything," I whispered. "You don't owe me words. But please…" I looked down at his wrist, still red, still raw. "Please don't do this again."
He still didn't speak.
I couldn't stop now. The words were spilling out like the ache in my chest had found a voice.
"If you ever feel like this again… if everything inside you is screaming like this again—don't go quiet. Don't shut me out. Don't hurt yourself. Just—just break something. Scream. Run. Hurt me if you have to. Just—don't do this to you. Please."
His eyes slowly lifted to mine.and what I saw in them—
It wasn't just pain. It wasn't just fear. It was disbelief.
His voice came out in pieces. "No… Liv… don't say that. Don't ever say that. I'd never— I could never hurt you—"
"Then don't hurt him," I whispered, tears finally slipping down my cheeks.
He blinked.
"Don't hurt the boy I like, I care about," I said, quieter this time. "Because he doesn't deserve it."
His mouth fell open like the air had been knocked out of him.
But he didn't speak.
I finished wrapping the bandage around his wrist, my fingers trembling as I tucked the end in place. The gauze was soaked in silence—thick and still and choking.
Then I leaned in—barely breathing—and rested my head against his shoulder.
And it was like the weight of that one small touch unraveled him.
He didn't make a sound at first. Not even a breath.
But I felt it—the way his body stiffened beneath me, like he was holding himself together with the last fraying thread he had left.
Then came the smallest shift. A single, shaking breath.And then another.And then—he broke.
His shoulders caved inward, so slightly it might've been missed by anyone who didn't know him. But I did. I knew every version of his silence. I knew the difference between shutting down and falling apart and this was him falling apart.
His body trembled beneath me. Barely-there sobs caught in his chest like he didn't know how to let them out. Like crying had never felt like an option. Like pain was something you swallowed and locked inside your ribs, until your bones forgot how to hold anything else.
I didn't say anything.I just stayed there—pressed into him, breathing with him, heart bleeding in sync with his.
The boy who tried to be strong for everyone.who broke himself just to keep from being a burden. who sat in front of me, shattered and silent and still thinking no one could love him like this.
If he only knew how hard I was holding on how much it hurt to see him like this—how I wanted to tear every ugly thought from his head and burn it so he'd never think he was too much again.And still—he cried.Quietly.
Tears soaked into the sleeve of his ruined shirt, and maybe into my hair, and maybe into every corner of my heart I didn't know I still had left to give.
Because some pain doesn't want fixing.It just wants a witness.
So I sat there, arms looped around the boy I care, and I let him feel it.
I held him while he fell apart.
I know the demons he's fighting are heavy—too heavy, maybe, for him to carry alone. And even if he can't say it, even if he doesn't know how to ask for help, I told him without a single word: I'm not going anywhere. Even if the world collapses around us, I'll be right here, holding his hand, ready to fight alongside him for every breath, every piece of hope he's lost.