Sebastian POV:
I've stayed at Hannah's house for the last three nights. I told myself it was to make sure she was okay—to help her walk, eat, sleep. To remind her she wasn't alone. But I can't lie, not even to myself—it's wearing me down.
She wakes up screaming, drenched in sweat, clawing at the air like she's still trapped down there. Each time she jolts upright in bed, her eyes wide and terrified, it's like she doesn't even see me. Sometimes she flinches just from the sound of my voice, or the creak of the floorboards. Then the sobbing starts—silent at first, then uncontrollable.
It's constant. Relentless. Her pain takes up the entire room, and no matter how close I sit, I can't reach her. She's locked in a place I can't enter.
And the truth is, I don't know how to handle it. I don't even know how to handle me.
I see it in her eyes—she's unraveling. And I feel like I'm disappearing with her. She doesn't talk much, barely eats. The brightness she used to carry is gone. Something—someone—was left behind in that cavern, and I don't think they're coming back.
Right now, she's sitting on the edge of the bed, knees pulled to her chest like she's trying to fold into herself. Her stare is empty, locked onto some fixed point on the wall. I'm leaning against the kitchen counter, watching her, feeling useless. Helpless.
I specialize in distance. That's my defense mechanism. It's what I've always done. When things get heavy—too real—I pull away. So... that's what I do now.
It's not because I don't care. It's because I care too much, and I can't carry her pain when I haven't even figured out how to carry my own.
Hannah POV:
Every little sound sends a jolt through my spine. A crow outside. A creaking floorboard. The ticking of the clock. It all makes my skin crawl. I'm trapped in this body that aches and a mind that won't shut off. When it's not screaming, it's flashing the images again—the cavern, the monsters, the feeling of being crushed from the inside out.
The bruises on my skin are fading, but inside, I feel more broken than ever.
I used to think I wasn't much to begin with. But now... I feel like nothing. Like all that strength I fought for burned out somewhere between survival and collapse.
Sebastian's been here. Physically, at least. He sits beside me, sleeps on the couch, cooks simple meals I can't finish. But the truth is, he's slipping. I see the way his eyes dull a little more each time I wake up screaming. I see the way his jaw tightens when I cry over nothing.
He hasn't said it, but I feel it—he's retreating.
And it kills me, because I don't blame him.
What if I never go back to the girl he fell in love with? What if this hollow version is all that's left?
I glance up at him. He's standing by the window now, his arms crossed tightly like he's holding himself together. The winter light drapes over his profile, but there's no warmth in him anymore.
I try to give him an out.
"Hey," I say quietly. My voice cracks, but I force a smile. "Why don't you go home? I'm... I'm getting better. I'll be fine."
He turns slightly, looking at me with guarded eyes. "I don't want to leave you alone."
"I promise, I'm okay. My body's healing, and I just need to sleep the rest off. There's no point in you sitting here, waiting around for me to feel normal again."
He hesitates. I can tell he knows it's a lie, but he wants to believe it. Or maybe he needs to believe it, for his own sanity.
"Alright," he says finally, his voice barely above a whisper. He steps toward me and presses a kiss to my forehead—gentle, distant. Like a goodbye without saying it. His eyes are tired, glossed over with something I don't recognize.
He walks to the door, pauses, and says, "Call me if you need me. I'm right here."
Then he leaves.
The door clicks shut behind him. The silence that follows is deafening.
I sit perfectly still for a moment. And then the tears fall—quiet, aching sobs that I don't try to stop. They trail down my cheeks like they've been waiting for this moment of solitude to break loose.
I am not okay.
And for the first time, I don't even know how to pretend I am. I feel like I'm vanishing—and no one, not even Sebastian, can save me from it.
I curl up in the bed, alone again, feeling like I'm still buried in that cavern.
Alex – POV
The barbell clanged against the ground as I dropped it for the thirtieth time, my arms trembling from the burn. I exhaled through my teeth, chest heaving. The winter air wrapped around me like ice, clinging to my sweat-soaked skin. Each breath came out in sharp clouds, and for a moment, I let the cold bite me—I welcomed it. It made me feel something.
Truth is, I've been hiding out.
Not because I got rejected—at least that's what I tell myself. I'm not licking wounds over pride or ego. I'm not that guy anymore. It's because I love her. God, I love her. But more than anything, she was my friend. Before I even knew I wanted more, she made me laugh, made me better.
And now she's gone—changed. Hurting. And I'm just standing on the outside of all of it.
I've replayed that night a thousand times in my head. The way I looked at her like she was slipping through my fingers. The words burned in my throat for weeks before I finally said them. Because the only thing worse than rejection is wondering what if. And now I know. Now I live with it.
But the worst part?
I let it poison me. I let that love curdle into anger, and I lashed out—at her, at Sebastian. I blamed him. Not because he did anything wrong, but because he was what I wasn't. Because he was the one she looked at like he was her future. And I hated it. I hated him.
But I don't anymore.
We were never friends, Sebastian and I. But we weren't enemies either. Not until I made us that way. And standing here now, lifting weights alone in the middle of a frozen backyard gym, I can finally admit what I was too stubborn to face before.
He didn't take her from me.
She chose him.
And if I ever meant it when I said I wanted her to be happy, then I need to accept that—truly accept it. Not just for her, but for myself.
So I've been trying. These last two weeks, I've been waking up early. Hitting the weights harder. Training with the kids who want to play ball in spring. Helping Granny around the house when George gets tired. Not because I want to distract myself—but because I need to remember who I am without her.
Still, the nights are hard. The tossing, the turning. The image of her walking into that damn cavern without looking back. The thought of her never coming out.
That's when it hit me.
I wasn't losing sleep over the fact that she didn't love me back. I was losing sleep because I thought I'd never see her again. Because loving someone... it isn't about the label. It's not about winning. It's about wanting them safe. Happy. Alive.
And Hannah? She almost wasn't.
So yeah, maybe I missed my chance for something more.
But I'll be damned if I miss another chance to show up for her as a friend.
Because if that's what she needs from me, then that's what she'll get.
And this time, I'll mean it—without expectations. Without resentment.
Just love, the quiet kind.
The kind that stays
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