72. Seb
SEB
“Sebastian? What are you doing here?” Tori stood framed by the doorway to Asher’s brownstone.
“It’s over,” he said thickly.
“What’s over? Are you drunk?” she hissed, pulling him in by the arm. “Cross and curse me Sebastian, you reek of bottom-shelf booze. Stay here.” She disappeared down the hall.
He’d gotten on the train accompanied by a fifth of shitty bourbon.
He had no plan, no ideas—he just wanted to numb himself out, turn it all off.
He barely remembered Asher’s address to give to the taxi driver.
Everything in the city was loud, distracting, perfectly awful. It had barely even snowed here.
Asher appeared, and they bundled him into a cab, then marched him into a bar. It was mostly empty, and—Seb assumed—unpopular, until he realized it was not quite three p.m. on the Wednesday after Christmas. Already it had been a very long day.
Tori snatched the drink menu out of his hand as he reached for it and ordered a cocktail for herself, coffee and sparkling water for him. He glared, and she glared right back.
“You can’t do this,” she said, as furious as he’d ever seen her.
“Do what?”
“Drink yourself into fucking oblivion every time you can’t handle your fucking emotions.”
Asher placed a hand on her thigh to bring her decibel level down.
“That’s rich,” Seb laughed. “Coming from you.”
“That’s how I know, idiot. If you were wondering, getting your stomach pumped fucking sucks.”
“What happened, Seb? Why are you here?” Asher leaned between them before Seb made things ugly. “I thought you were back on campus.”
“I was.” He slumped backward in the booth, his head smacking the unpadded top. He winced, but it woke him up a little. “It’s over.”
“What’s over?” Tori asked. “You don’t mean…” Seb slouched further into himself. “No. Why?”
Their drinks arrived, and he stirred half the cream into his coffee until it was lukewarm, then drank most of it, wincing. He hadn’t eaten all day. He stared at his sparkling water, bubbling obliviously on the table, for a long time, trying to summon the words.
“She’s dying,” he said flatly. “Going to die. In June. That’s her curse.”
He closed his eyes so he didn’t have to see their reactions. He heard Tori’s glass shatter, heard her mend it with a cantrip. When he rejoined the world, Asher studied him, surprisingly clear-eyed.
“Why are you here, then?”
“What do you mean?” He almost laughed. “Where else would I go?”
Tori’s whole body twitched. “Why aren’t you with her?”
“How could I—” He floundered, looking between their wretched faces. “I—I couldn’t. I can’t.” He shook his head. All of his emotions were snaking out twisted and sideways. “She should have told me! I should have known, before…”
Tori watched him for a long time. “She did tell you.”
“Earlier,” he whispered. “She should have told me earlier.”
“When? When was she supposed to tell you? Before either of you knew what this was? Before she knew if you’d blab to the entire campus?
” Tori threw her napkin down. “She didn’t tell you because she was terrified you were going to do exactly what you just did.
” She stood up, throwing on her coat. Tori had never looked at him the way she looked at him now. “I have to go.”
They watched her leave. Asher ordered food.
“What are you doing?” Asher asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Why are you wasting even a day you could be spending with her?”
“I can’t lose her, Ash.”
“It doesn’t seem like you get to make that choice. You only get to choose how. When.”
He wiped his face with his scarf. “It hurts too much already.”
“I’m so sorry, I really am. But Seb.” Asher fixed him with his deep gaze. “If you let it end like this, you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life.”
All the fight, all the anger, seeped out of him. “I know,” he whispered.
“Stay here tonight, sleep it off, and get on the first train back tomorrow.” He refilled Seb’s water. “Be the person you made her think you are.”