DarkThingsHappen

Oh, but he was. A complete and utter innocent. Josh wasn’t deserving of this living hell. Kurtis had watched over the past few months how every word from Felix’s lips was a knife to Josh’s throat and every movement a paralysing threat. How tears would carve their way down his cheeks, like a raging river gouging stone, more times than a smile has ever crossed his lips. Whatever this was, it obviously wasn’t love - though Kurtis would never dare voice that. He just desperately wished it didn’t have to be this way. 

“He didn’t deserve that, Felix,” Kurtis rubbed his temples hard, kneading the stress out. Trying to work the image of Josh's black and blue body out of his mind. “You know he didn’t.”

“I didn’t deserve to be attacked!” Felix near screamed in his defence, the victim complex coming through in full-force.

“He was scared! He’s only human, he has his limits. You’re overwhelming him.”

The boy needed a sliver of reprieve. A chance to exist, be and breathe. Even in his few and far between moments of isolation, pain was Josh’s constant companion. Relentless agony, around the clock. How could Josh ever come out of fight or flight? He wants and tries so desperately to be good, but his body rebels against him.

“It’s not my fault he doesn’t know how to love or be loved. I’m trying to break his walls down.”

“You’re breaking him. Not his walls,” Kurtis declared. That seemed to stun Felix, his mind churning in thought. “You need to take a good step back. When he’s acting out - sure. Fine. Lock him down in that basement and let him rot for a good while. But you need to take the time to compose yourself and not go back to him until you’ve calmed the hell down. You went too far, Felix. Keep going that way and you’re going to lose him. You’ll kill him-”

Kurtis’ words hung heavy in the air. Felix’s jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing into a dangerous glint. Yet, beneath the surface, a flicker of doubt ignited. A seed of uncertainty began to take root and the sobering realisation crashed down on him. 

Felix sank heavily onto his bed, shoulders slumping and face buried in his hands. “All I want is to shower him with my love. I want to make him happy. Why is that so hard for his tiny mind to grasp?” Felix sighed dramatically.  “He’s never satisfied. I don’t know what to do with him anymore.”

“Get down there and talk to him. Man to man, heart to heart. Use your words and not your fists, for once in your life.”

Felix hesitated, balling the bedspread in his clenched fist. He looked up, his expression a mix of frustration and resignation. “He started it. I just finished it.”

Kurtis rolled his eyes so far back he could see his brain. Felix always has to be the one to throw his toys out the pram and tantrum like a child.

“For what it’s worth, the lad’s remorseful,” Kurtis added. “He said he was sorry.”

“Yeah?” Felix’s interest piqued, his ears pricked up, “He said that?”

“He did. And I’m sure if you gave him the chance to talk, he’d tell you to your face. Go down there, and build the bridge back. Let this shitshow be water under it.”

------

Josh had often wondered what dying would feel like. It was never something he had to consider back when his life was his own, when it stretched out before him with promise and potential. But if he had to guess, he'd wager that dying feels something like this. 

It’s dark. They normally describe ‘a light’, don't they? When people reach their timely end. But Josh felt darkness closing in on him, shadows stealing him away. Maybe there was no light at the end of the tunnel for him. There was no heaven waiting for him, and there's no hell he could go to, which is worse than the one he was already living. 

A cold, creeping numbness snuck through Josh’s limbs, replacing the crippling pain that thrummed through his entire being. He felt like he was being hollowed from the inside out. His breath, ragged and laboured, was slowing to a near standstill. The world faded into a blur as his still-good eye slipped shut, the struggle ebbing away.

Then, a sharp sound shattered the facade of tranquillity. The metallic click and clang of locks, the jingle jangle of keys echoed through the confined space. A surge of adrenaline shot through Josh. It was as if his barely beating heart had suddenly leaped to life.

Is it possible for the air to be stolen from your lungs, and feel a breath of fresh air at once? Elation in the face of impending doom? Terror and relief warred within Josh. Felix was here, whether Josh wanted him to be or not. Here to finish what they started? To right the wrongs?  If Felix makes any apologies then Josh knows he definitely has died, because never in Felix’s life has he ever uttered the words ‘sorry’. 

For Josh, this may be his one chance to make amends, to face the music for his abhorrent actions. Nod and agree. Do whatever he can to keep Felix sweet and survive one day more. As Felix’s footsteps thud down the stairs, Josh weakly fumbled to quickly shove the spit-soaked gag that hung limp around his neck back into his mouth. If Felix saw him, not as he left him, it would ruin any chance of a sunny reunion. 

Wordlessly, Felix perched by Josh’s side. His large hands peeled Josh from the cot, gently lifting his frail form. As he scooped him up into his arms, Josh winced and whimpered - his face screwing up tight in anguish. The raw wounds on his back burned in protest to the sudden movement. Josh couldn't meet his captor’s eyes, although he knew he probably should. He should stare the devil in the eyes and hold his own…but he’s too scared of what he might see inside. 

Yet, with a gentle but firm grip, Felix tilted his chin to face him. Josh’s vision blurred as the tears welled up, threatening to spill over.

“Hey there, pretty blue eyes,” Felix cooed. 

That was all it took for Josh to fall apart. His spirit so broken, he involuntarily collapsed into Felix’s open arms. His body convulsing, sobs muffled through the gag. Josh would surrender to this life if it could be like this all the time, gentle and tender, even if it was all a sick fantasy. 

“Look what you’ve done to us, sweetheart. You’re tearing us apart. I can’t stand it. I hate fighting with you.”

Josh hated it too. Neither of them wanted this. If only Josh could take it all back and go back to moments before he lost control… he would shut up and put up and just let it fucking happen. Nothing could stop it happening, it only served to delay the inevitable. 

“You know that all I’ve ever wanted to do is love you senseless,” Felix whispered. He ran a hand through Josh’s hair, hushing his cries as he shivered and sniffled. 

“Shh. Settle now,” Felix cupped Josh’s cheek, thumbing away rolling tears, “I don’t want you to cry, baby. I want you to beg for my forgiveness. I know you have something you’d like to say to me. Something that might help heal the wound.”

With a sigh, Felix reached up and tugged the gag free. Josh gasped, his breath ragged and the words came tumbling out, “I - m’ s-sorry…please b-believe me - I’m so - so s..sorry- I’ll - b-behave-”

“I don’t know what hurt me more; the scratches down my cheek, or when I watched the boy I love become consumed by hatred.”

“I-I don’t kn-know what came over me,” Josh rasped, “I - I think I was over t-tired-”

-and starving. And scared out of his wits. And hurt beyond imagination. “s’ no excuse,” he hiccuped, “I - I didn’t m-mean to hurt you, I swear on my life-”

Josh couldn’t help but think that he can’t bet something he doesn’t have. Josh’s life is not his own to swear on…Felix had already taken it.

“I couldn’t recognise you, baby. That nasty, spoilt brat that attacked me? That’s not my beautiful angel that I fell head over heels for. This is. So sweet and gentle, wanting and docile.”

Josh’s heart was beating out of his ribcage. Disgust and humiliation flooded in. How could he let himself sink so low, to be everything Felix wanted him to be? When did he let it happen? He was merely a shadow of himself, and Felix would even rip his shadow from him if he could.

“I want to forgive you,” Felix hummed, “My heart wants to find a way for us to move past this mess you’ve created - together. I need you to show me how sorry you are.”

“W-What can I do?” Josh questioned, determined. “To make this all better? Tell m-me - I’ll move mountains to…to make it right again.”

“I want to pick up where we left off. Exactly where we left off…” Felix purred. His hand slips between Josh’s leg and caresses his thigh, before guiding his legs apart. “No whining. No wriggling. No fighting back. A relationship is give and take…I give and you take…like a good boy.”

Josh felt his face flush. He took a deep breath and swallowed hard.

“I-I can’t - my - Felix, my back- ”

“You can lay on your tummy, if you want, sweetie…” Felix’s lips curled into a harrowing smile. Josh told himself he’d lie back and accept it, but the panic still festered and bubbled at the thought. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead.

“Or…your knees are perfectly fine, and so are those pretty lips,” Felix purred, stroking his thumb along Josh’s cracked and split lips. “It’s all up to you, gorgeous. I’ll let you choose how you want to say sorry to me.”

Choose, he thought bitterly. Every decision, every action, was dictated by Felix's whims. There’s no true choice in this. It’s going to hurt, no matter what, and he can’t do anything to stop it. At least he can alleviate it.

“H-Help me onto my knees?” Josh asked meekly, in defeat.

Felix hummed his approval. His grip tightened around Josh's wrist, pulling him forward from the bed. With a strained grunt, Josh stumbled and fell to his knees. The whip marks, raw and inflamed, throbbed with every panicked breath. He gritted his teeth, trying to stifle the cry of pain that threatened to escape his lips.

“You know what to do.”

----

tagging people that asked or expressed interest!

"Shitttt," Kurtis breathed. He drops the four-pack and stack of pizzas to the floor, his hand flying to his mouth in shock. The sight was horrific. Felix looked like he'd been mauled by a wild animal. Kurtis could ask why Josh would do that, but he knows why. He could only imagine the terror and pain Josh must have endured to lose control like that. The lad’s a fighter through and through, and Kurtis can’t say he blames him.

But fighting back does him more harm than good. Josh should have learnt that by now.

“I give that brat everything! My heart and soul. I love him down to the bone!” Felix roared, spittle spraying and veins bulging at his temples, “And this is what I get?! Do you think I deserve this shit?!”

Felix’s body trembled with irrepressible rage, as if it were being torn apart from the inside out. The fury coursing through him was so intense, Kurtis feared he might burst an artery.

“Just take some time, yeah?” Kurtis crouched down to his level, placing his hand on Felix’s bouncing knees, “Breathe. Take a minute to yourself. Maybe sleep on it. You’re wound up-”

“Of course I’m fucking wound up, he attacked me!” Felix bellowed.

“I know, mate. I know. But lashin’ out ain’t gonna solve anything, is it? It'll only make it worse. You’re gonna push him further away, you don’t want that.”

Felix’s usually warm and soft brown eyes had narrowed to slits, a storm raging within. His jaw clenched, a low growl rumbling in his throat as he ground his teeth together. There would be no getting through to him, not like this. 

“How long’s e been down there for, then?” Kurtis sighed, pushing himself up to his feet.

“A few hours. A day? I don’t know. Don’t care,” Felix shrugged dismissively. It’s just a facade. When he cools down he’ll be fawning all over Josh again, he’ll be glued to him.

“I’ll go check in on him.”

“No,” Felix barked, “Leave him down there. I want him to stew on what he’s done.”

“And I wanna have a word with him. I bet I can knock some sense into that stubborn head of his.”

Kurtis made his way to the basement door, unbolting the sliding locks and turning the key. The basement was sub-zero, without a doubt, his skin broke out into goosebumps from the first step. His breath fogged before him in the frigid air. His eyes strained against the darkness, trying to make out something out of nothing. The only light a faint, flickering bulb swaying overhead. A shiver trickled down his spine as he descended deeper into the depths.

What Kurtis saw made his blood run cold - colder than the bitter air around him. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting but it wasn’t this. Any frustration with the boy dissipated in a heartbeat as pity crept in to take its place. 

Josh laid on his belly, half-hanging off the metal cot - like he’d crawled to his ‘bed’ but couldn’t muster the energy to heave his body completely up. The chain around his ankle snaked across the floor, marking his trail from the drain to where he’d collapsed. His hands still cuffed above his head. Whip marks criss crossed the entirety of his back, slashed to smithereens, leaving crimson welts blooming against his sickly pale skin. He couldn’t lie on his back even if he wanted to.

And Josh’s face? It made Felix’s wounds look like a little kitty scratch. A bruised eye, the color of grapes, was swollen shut. His still good-eye, streaming with tears, watched Kurtis like a hawk. A rag soaked with blood and saliva was jammed into his mouth, his lips busted and split around the gag.

“Oh, mate,” Kurtis exhaled, his voice heavy with concern. “What have you gotten yourself into this time?”

Josh couldn’t stop sniffling, his Adam's apple fluttering as he swallowed down his sobs. This was in no way comparable to Felix’s injury, this wasn’t a level playing field. Kurtis hovered his palms over Josh’s back, just above his raw, open wounds. Jesus christ, he could feel the heat radiating from his skin, it felt like he was holding his hands to a bonfire.

He knelt beside Josh, his heart aching at the sight of the lad’s injuries. He didn’t deserve this, despite what he did. It’s not proportionate - it’s overkill. The boy’s good eye rolled in its socket before trying to drift shut with pain and exhaustion. Kurtis tentatively reached a hand out to tuck away the strand of hair hanging in front of Josh’s black eye, but panic fills Josh - he flinches away from his hand and cries out into the gag.

“Hey, hey! Easy now,” Kurtis soothes. “You’re alright. I ain’t gonna hurt you, just tryna get a good look at the damage.”

Suspicion and doubt crossed Josh’s face, but he had no choice but to accept. He let Kurtis tuck his hair away from his face, and trace the unmarred skin around his bruise. Kurtis sucked his teeth and shook his head in disapproval. Too far. He went too fucking far. Again.

Kurtis carefully pried the gag free from Josh’s beestung lips and let it fall around his neck. “Tell me your side of the story, man. What the shitting hell happened?”

Josh’s lip quivered. He gulped before he spoke. “He - He tried to r…r-a…p-,” Josh couldn’t finish the word before he fell apart. Kurtis was sure he’d never seen such pain and suffering in his life, not even the other ones endured hell like this. Josh was an inconsolable wreck, hiccuping and choking on his tears, “I can’t. I can’t do it anymore. I c-can’t do this. Please - I’m tired-”

A cry for mercy. Kurtis hears it, but he’s too stunned into silence to warrant it with a response.

“I just wanted him to stop. I-I wanted to make it stop. I-I didn’t mean t-to hurt him, I swear-” Josh squalls desperately. And somehow, Kurtis knew he was telling the truth. Josh didn’t want to hurt Felix…but he needed to. In a moment of panic, pain and humiliation blurring together, Josh’s body overrode his head and heart. Fuck. Kurtis promised himself he wouldn’t feel sympathetic for this one….

“Let’s get you cleaned up, eh?” Kurtis swiftly changed the subject. “That might help you feel a bit better.”

He ran back up to the kitchen and grabbed what he could before sprinting back to Josh’s side. A bag of frozen peas from the freezer, a bottle of rubbing alcohol from the medicine cupboard, a dishcloth from under the sink. 

“Can I clean your wounds, dude? I’d hate for ‘em to get infected. You don’t need any more strife, do ya?”

Josh weakly nodded his head and groaned his agreement. Kurtis doused the washcloth in the alcohol and touched it to one of the gashes. Josh bucked like a mule and shrieked in pain.

"Shh, I know. Sorry.” Kurtis murmured, his voice filled with sympathy. He gently pressed down between Josh’s shoulder blades, forcing him flat against the cot, "I know it hurts. I’ll be as quick as I can, yeah?”

Kurtis worked thoroughly at cleaning and sanitising Josh’s wounds, even as Josh wept and every muscle in his body tensed and trembled. Once he was done with the wounds, he handed the frozen peas over to Josh. With his cuffed wrists, Josh took the cold compress in his shaking hands and held it against his eye.

“Keep holding that there. Should help with the swelling. Lemme know if it thaws and I’ll find ya something else.”

Josh sniffled again. “I m-must have done something pretty horrible in a past life,” he murmured miserably. Kurtis can’t help but recall how his eyes were so bright when they first met - even if they were twinkling with fear. Now they were just dull, and lifeless. The tears don’t stop rolling down his gaunt cheeks.

“I-...I’m going to die here…aren’t I?” Josh whispered, his voice cracking and broken.

This time Kurtis did dignify it with a response. “No. You’re not going to die. Not here. Not while I’m around. I’ll keep him in check.”

“E-Even when I’m o-old…and grey. If I’m still here then-?” the young lad croaked.

Kurtis perished the thought. He didn’t even know if Felix would still keep him around when he’s grey and old and past it. Or if he’d die long before that day even comes. What could he ever say to make it any easier?

“That’s not going to happen,” he settled on instead. It wasn’t really lying. Josh probably won’t make it to that point - not if the state of him now is anything to go by.

“I’m going to hold you to that,” Josh scoffed, and Kurtis could have sworn he saw the slightest twinge of a cheeky smile through the mask of hurt. It pulled at Kurtis’ heartstrings. There’s not a bad bone in the boy's body… leave it to Felix to corrupt someone so innocent.

Kurtis swiped up the bottle of alcohol solution and the cloth, making his way towards the stairs.

“You’re not l-leaving, are you?” Josh fretted.

“I didn’t come here to see you today, did I?” Kurtis frowned, “You were just a little pit-stop.”

Guilt flooded in when he saw Josh’s face drop, and his body slump.

“Look, just…get some rest. Be gentle with yourself. I’ll be the peacemaker and talk to the big-guy.”

“T-Thank you…” Josh whispered. Kurtis only nodded in response and began trudging his way back upstairs.

“K-Kurtis?” Josh called after him.  “Could you tell him that I’m sorry? Please. I honestly didn’t mean to hurt him…”

“Between me and you…good on ya for getting a good lick in,” Kurtis winked down at him. “Been a long time coming, if you ask me. Just watch it, okay? I think you should count your lucky stars this time… I doubt you’ll be so lucky again…”

----

tagging people that expressed interest in this on a previous post! My apologies if you do not wish to be tagged, pls let me know and I'll refrain from doing similar in future!:

Sebastian shrugs. “Few years,” he says, which might be understating things. He hasn’t had a real, proper, friends-gathered-round, cake-eating, too-many-shots-of-tequila birthday since his final year of undergrad. 

Well. Except for the tequila. That part doesn’t require friends.

For a moment, he braces himself for the inevitable why, but Jaime doesn’t push. Of course he doesn’t. Instead, he says something much more true to character:

“I’m sorry.”

Sebastian flashes him a quick smile. “Nothing to be sorry for,” he says. “I’m hardly a social butterfly.”

“What about your friends? Do they know that you don’t like to celebrate it?”

“Kind of makes it easier that I don’t have any,” he says lightly. Or, at least he intends for it to sound light. 

Jaime glances at him with what appears to be genuine confusion. “What about Aria and Sam? Ezra?”

And that makes Sebastian blink, because…

“Oh,” he says lamely, a small kernel of guilt and surprise forming. “Well, I guess… I mean, I didn’t know them until more recently. This was my first birthday since becoming… their friend, I guess.”

“What about your family?” It’s like Jaime hears his own question as it comes out, and surely he must feel the sudden tension that grips the silence between them, because he immediately backtracks. “Sorry,” he says quickly. “I shouldn’t have… That’s none of my business.”

The regret in his voice borders on fear, and Sebastian has to keep himself from reaching out to reassure him. 

“It’s alright. You’re allowed to ask me questions, Jaime. My parents…” He has to stop and swallow around a rising lump. “They’re not really in the picture.”

“Oh.”

Jaime doesn’t ask for more, but the silence—and maybe it’s not just the silence, he thinks—makes more words rush to the surface, breaching the floodgates to a subject he rarely speaks about.

“I mean, they raised me,” he rambles. “They’re alive. But I haven’t spoken to them in a long time. Since I was eighteen, to be exact.” He stops, really thinking about the expanse of time that now bridges between now and then. It feels like a mile and an inch all at once. “Almost a decade, now,” he adds quietly.

Sebastian is fairly familiar with the careful way Jaime chooses his words, so he’s not surprised when he takes a while to chew his next ones over, patient and only a little bit nervous.

“I’m sure you have a good reason.”

“Ha,” the bitter noise startles out of Sebastian. “Yeah, no, it wasn’t quite my decision.”

“Oh,” Jaime whispers. “They…?”

Sebastian nods, keeping his eyes straight ahead and his grip steady on the wheel. “They are religious,” he said, keeping his voice detached. “Traditional. Whatever you want to call it. And they didn’t take kindly to their only son coming out.” Sebastian flashes him a wry grin. “In case you weren’t aware, I’m extremely gay.”

Jaime doesn’t return the smile. “They kicked you out?”

“Technically, I was already leaving. I told them right before I moved away to college, but… Yeah. They cut me off completely after that. Anyway,” he finishes ineloquently. “My birthday isn’t much of a problem for them, either.”

“I’m sorry,” Jaime repeats. 

“Thanks, Jaime. It's okay, really. I’m fine now.” I’m fine now, he repeats internally, for good measure. I turned out fine.

For a moment, it almost seems like Jaime is going to argue, but he settles back into the seat instead, turning his head toward the window. 

They’re a few minutes from home when Jaime speaks again.

“My parents were out of the picture, too,” he says softly.

Sebastian has to grip the wheel so as not to crash the car out of utter shock. Because he can count on approximately one finger the number of things he knows about Jaime’s past, and this piece of information carries weight he didn’t expect to be handed right now. He wants to cradle this secret between his palms with all the delicacy of balancing a bubble on skin. 

“Yeah?” Sebastian nudges him carefully, stealing a glance in his periphery.

A single nod. “They died when I was young. Both of them. I... I grew up in foster care.”

It’s strange, what happens when you begin to build a relationship with someone from the ground up; how a piece of the puzzle can come in and snap others into place. How one sliver of context can start to paint a picture. How it can break your heart for the person sitting next to you, and also give you some insight on how they got there to begin with. 

An ugly chain of events begins to take root in his mind: passed from one government system to another, another vulnerable statistic slipping through the cracks. 

“I…,” Sebastian begins and immediately falters. “Jaime, I don’t...”

“I’m not supposed to talk about them,” Jaime says. "Or any of it."

“I know.”

“It’s hard to remember them clearly. It’s been so long.”

“You can talk about them with me,” Sebastian offers, knowing he is tiptoeing on precarious grounds. “If it helps to remember them.” Jaime nods, and Sebastian wishes he could reach over and take his hand. “How old were you? Only if you're comfortable saying.”

Sebastian watches the jerk of his throat as he swallows. “Eleven.”

“God, Jaime, you were just a baby.” You’re still so young. 

They come to a stop in the driveway, and Sebastian kills the engine, plunging them into a heavy quiet. From beside him, Jaime’s hands are a constant twitch of nervous energy.

“I want to say something,” Jaime says. “I… I don’t want to overstep. I’m sorry if I…” He stops to clear his throat, then looks up, piercing Sebastian through the middle with a rare moment of held eye contact. “I think your parents are wrong. For wanting you out of their lives.”

The contempt dripping from the word "wrong"—a brand new edge to Jaime’s normally soft spoken tone—suggests there is something far worse he’d like to say. But the fact that Jaime has voiced this much negative emotion at all speaks volumes. And despite the sore spot of the subject matter, something like fondness glows bright in his chest. 

He holds Jaime’s eyes for a few more seconds. “That’s nice of you to say.”

Jaime lets out a slow breath. He nods. 

As they retrieve the paper grocery bags from the trunk, Jaime’s shoulder brushes warmly against his own for just a fleeting second. “Happy birthday, Sebastian,” he says. 

When he smiles, the inner edge of his lips are tinted blue from the candy.

Sebastian, carefully, lets his shoulder nudge him back. “Thank you,” he says. “For that, and for telling me about your parents.”

He doesn’t say: your trust is the best gift I could have asked for. But he means it all the same.

****

When Sebastian comes out of his room, just after sunset, he stops short at the warm-sugared aroma of the house. His nose leads him to the kitchen, where he finds a small, circular cake sitting on the table. A singular candle flame flickers in the low light, and behind it, Jaime. The shadows dance over his mask of trepidation, his fidgeting hands held at waist height. 

“I hope this doesn’t count as a big deal,” Jaime says quickly, as if he’s been rehearsing the words in his head. “I found a pack of candles in the back of the cabinet, and you already had all the ingredients to make it from scratch, so I figured…” He stops short, eyes widening. “Are you okay?”

It is only then that Sebastian feels the moisture beading down his cheek. He wipes it away, a breathy, startled laugh escaping him.

“I kind of want to hug you right now.” The words sort of stumble out without much thought, and he stiffens as he hears them, ready to snatch them back.

But Jaime says, “You can, if you want.” He must hear the passive choice of words as he says it, read the apprehension on Sebastian’s face, because he shakes his head and rephrases. “I want you to. I’d like to give you a hug.”

And then he’s stepping around the table, and Jaime is in front of him. He holds his eyes for a moment, checking and double checking that this is alright. When Sebastian raises his arms in invitation, just a few cautious inches, Jaime steps into them.

It’s slow and soft, and it doesn’t linger. Just a few precious seconds of Jaime’s hands pressed flat against Sebastian’s back, of Sebastian’s arms featherlight above Jaime’s shoulders, and the warm pulse of heartbeats where their chests touch between them.

The cake is still warm, the frosting slightly melty, when Sebastian takes his first bite. He nearly cries all over again at the taste. Sebastian makes sure to cut Jaime the slightly larger slice, and relishes in watching him finish the whole thing.

They spend the rest of their Saturday night curled under blankets on opposite ends of the sofa, with Bella stretched out between them. Jaime’s eyes start to drift during the opening credits of their third movie, and by the end he is fast asleep. Sebastian allows himself a few selfish moments to watch him at peace. His mouth hangs slightly agape. Bella, who has crawled onto Jaime’s chest at some point in the night, vibrates with soft purrs against his neck. 

Sebastian blinks hard and remembers the wish he made as he blew out the candle—the first he had made since he was a child. 

Please, let him be happy. Please, let him be free.

*

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