126. Seb
SEB
He thought his heart might actually explode as he reached into the back seat of the car for the box that Chant had left him. With shaking hands, he checked once more to make sure it was still there, to make sure it had worked.
Seb reentered the backyard through the house, pausing in the kitchen to change the music, closing his eyes briefly as Asher’s finished version of their song quietly warmed the night.
Every time he heard it, it was like nectar pumping through his veins.
Magic washed over him, through him, whispering soundless reassurance in his ears.
He stood for a moment in the doorway, watching Lily cut blithely through the night, swinging higher and higher. She looked unreal—AEtheric—and pure. He felt unstuck from time, watching her, as if this had happened a hundred times before, and what he saw now was only a memory.
She slowed the swing, dragging her heels and spraying dirt as she noticed him approach. Her grin was wild and fierce. He had never seen her smile like this before, and he would bottle it if he could. If he drank this smile of hers before a match, he would be unstoppable.
“Did you do this?” She pointed at the sky, indicating the music.
“Maybe.”
“Very sentimental of you.” She took his hand as he rejoined her on the swings.
“I think you know me well enough by now to know…”
“It’s one of my favorite things about you,” she said, no longer teasing. Then: “I said no presents. Why does no one ever listen to me?”
“Because you’re loved,” he said simply.
God, he grimaced internally, flushing. Asher’s cocktail had stripped away his every defense, and he didn’t have very many of them left to start with. Lily looked at her lap, the wild smile gone. Very suddenly, she looked like she might cry.
“Lily,” his voice throbbed unintentionally.
This had been a mistake once before, but the moment in front of him wouldn’t be possible without it. He thought he might vomit from the nerves twisting up in his stomach, cinching around liquor and cake. He half-collapsed into the swing with a thump, his hands protective around the box in his lap.
“That night—”
She cut in quickly. “We don’t need to talk about it. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Lily.”
She looked at him then, first at his fingers, and then at his face. His hand was fisted in her sweater; his heart racing as fast as in any match.
“That night, my magic. I thought I lost it again.”
He watched her blink through the memory, recognition filtering into her eyes.
“Do you know what brought it back?” It was a rhetorical question, and she knew it, shaking her head warily. “You did.”
“I didn’t,” she said, half confused, half defensive, not wanting to take credit. “I didn’t do anything. I didn’t even know what was happening.”
“You did,” he said again, “When I saw you hurt like that, I lost my Words.”
She stared at him.
“Not lost, maybe, but they weren’t good enough anymore. They weren’t strong enough for what I feel. They weren’t right.”
“What are you saying?”
He moved his lips with the lyrics, and the ambient Magic surrounding him, hanging in the air, rushed through him, balling at his core and bursting free. From the way her eyes widened, he knew she could see it.
“This…these are your Words?”
He nodded, and unbelievably, she laughed.
It was a whip across his heart. But when he looked again, her eyes were delighted.
She shook her head, her whole body trembling with mischief as she wailed, “Fucking Chant. That asshole just always has to be right.” She whisked a tear from the corner of her eye.
It was his turn to be confused, but as her words sank in, the nausea was replaced by a bubbling sensation, lifting him, turning him to light.
“Wait…you mean?”
She nodded, her laughter subsiding.
“Since when?” he gaped at her.
She shook her head like he was incredibly stupid. “Since the first time Asher played it.”
He thought on that for a while, as they slowly drifted back and forth on the swings, both of them pondering what it meant for their Words to align. What was the probability? How often did it happen?
Lily was the first to break the silence. “Sebastian?” When he looked up, her eyes were soft. “I really love you.”
There was a small knot in her voice, and its presence produced an equal knot in his own as he replied, “I really love you too, Lily.”
It seemed like as good a time as any, and so he offered her the box. It was a simple gift box, no frills. He hadn’t even put a bow on top. She accepted it, sliding off the lid and peering inside. His heart caught as she withdrew the terra-cotta pot, and held it up, regarding it.
From within the sleeping dirt, a single bud bloomed.