|| Chapter Twenty-Four || Marcos – “When the season ends” #2
The name settled somewhere uncomfortable underneath his ribs, weighing heavily above his stomach, making it feel too compressed. Too tight. He started to pick at the skin next to his nails as his eyes flicked toward Marcos, then back to Loren.
“Can we please not do this here?” Sebastian asked, failing to keep his voice even.
Loren stared at Sebastian for a minute, breathing hard, jaw tensing. Then she stared at Marcos, her eyes narrowed. “Isn’t he an asshole? Aren’t you an asshole?”
Marcos shrugged and tilted his head, his mouth twitching upward before stopping himself.
“Please,” Sebastian repeated, and Loren huffed.
She huffed before walking back down the hall toward the living room.
Sebastian’s breath rattled out of him as his fingers picked harder, and he kept his eyes on Marcos, shaking his head, eyes glowering.
Marcos’ face dropped.
Sebastian couldn’t stay there long enough to fix what his face had done. He turned to follow his sister.
“Is that… Is this what I think it is?” Loren asked, spinning and pointing down the hall.
Sebastian stopped a few metres away from her.
His mouth opened, but nothing came out at first. He had spent years preparing for different versions of this.
Every worst-case scenario his mind had built out of locker-room comments, crowd noise, family memory, and fear.
He had imagined anger. Disgust. Questions he couldn’t answer. Silence that would go on too long.
He had not imagined his sister standing in his living room with tears still on her face, his father possibly dying, Marcos in his bedroom, and the first thing out of his own mouth being fear.
“Don’t—don’t tell anyone,” Sebastian said, his voice small and weak.
“Bao,” she whispered, watching a tear Sebastian had been determined to keep away slide down his face.
The softness in her voice broke something worse than the yelling had.
Loren stepped forward, wrapping her arms around him, and Sebastian let himself melt into her embrace. His face pushed into her shoulder as more tears escaped him, and his hands gripped the back of her shirt like he was just a kid again.
“Don’t tell anyone,” Sebastian repeated, and Loren shook her head against his.
“I’ve got you.”
That was it.
Everything narrowed to that. To those words, Loren’s arms around him, and the steady pressure of her hand on his back. Despite everything that had happened between them, despite the distance Sebastian had let grow and everything his sister was carrying now, it came down to those words.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Sebastian said through ragged breaths.
Loren didn’t speak for a few minutes. She just held Sebastian, who felt stupid for needing it.
Loren had come to him because of their dad.
Because she was scared and upset, because something in their family had shifted badly enough that she had driven to his apartment instead of waiting for him to answer a message.
And now she was comforting him over something that shouldn’t matter.
Except it did.
Loren’s hand moved once against his back.
Sebastian breathed into her shoulder and tried to make himself let go before she had to do it first.
He failed.
“Let me make some tea,” Loren finally said, pulling herself away from Sebastian, who made it harder than necessary.
He nodded and wiped his face with his palm, watching Loren step around him and head to the kitchen. His eyes flicked toward his bedroom, and a shiver ran up his spine, followed by a sharp heat across his neck.
“I can make the douchebag one as well,” Loren said, her gaze thrown back at Sebastian.
He gave a forced smile, letting a sigh slip from his mouth before he walked down the hall.
His hand slid across the doorframe as he looked inside and saw Marcos fully dressed, sitting on the edge of his bed. His hands were clasped together, and his shoulders were hunched slightly.
Marcos glanced up as Sebastian walked in. “Hey.”
Sebastian almost rolled his eyes at the softness of his voice. It was as if Marcos had measured exactly how fragile Sebastian would be and tried to accommodate it.
“You okay?” Marcos asked quietly, pushing to his feet and meeting Sebastian in the doorway.
Sebastian gave a single nod. “Loren is making tea. If you want one.”
Marcos’ face scrunched at the word. “Tea?”
“You don’t have—”
“I’m kidding.” Marcos gave Sebastian’s shoulder a slight push, then pulled him into a hug. “Do you want me out there?”
Sebastian stood still, letting the hug happen. “It’s a bit late to say no,” Sebastian muttered, his arms remaining loosely at his side as Marcos released him.
“I’m sorry about—”
“Don’t.” Sebastian exhaled slowly. “You didn’t do anything.” He offered a smile, though it came out slanted and wrong.
Marcos ran his knuckles down Sebastian’s cheek, then went to walk out of the bedroom, but Sebastian grabbed his arm.
“Wait.”
“Have you changed your mind?” Marcos asked.
“No. I just…” Sebastian trilled his lips. “Loren might call me Bao. I just don’t want you to make something of it.”
“Bao?” Marcos raised his eyebrow, then lowered his voice to a whisper. “Oh, my God. Is that your Vietnamese name?”
A huge grin slipped onto his face, and his eyes lit up as his hands came to Sebastian’s cheeks, squishing them together.
“You are not allowed to use it.” Sebastian’s eyes stayed sharp as Marcos shifted his cheeks around. “I’m just letting you know so you don’t do…this.”
Sebastian swatted Marcos’ hands away, his face setting hard again, and Marcos tried to match him, though his mouth kept twitching.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
Sebastian shook his head, moving past Marcos to grab a shirt and throw it on. His pulse was too fast and heavy as he walked back to the kitchen, and Marcos’ footsteps behind him were not helping.
As he reached the kitchen, Sebastian’s eyes flicked to Loren as she stood over the stove making tea, moving as if she knew where everything was, even though she opened several wrong cupboards.
Sebastian wiped his face again, his eyes still wet and red, and took a seat at the counter. Marcos sat beside him, and Loren glared at him before turning back to what she was doing.
“Nice to meet you,” Marcos said, voice too cheery for the weight of the room.
“We’ve met before,” Loren said shortly, not looking at him.
“Oh?”
“At a junior game. You were against Seb.”
“Ah, right. Well, I was probably too caught up in winning.”
“You lost.” Loren placed a cup of tea in front of him and another in front of Sebastian.
Marcos hummed. “I’ve been hit in the head a lot?”
Loren turned to Sebastian. “Really? Him?”
Sebastian shrugged, wrapping his hands around the cup and feeling the warmth spread through his palms.
The tea was too hot to drink, but he lifted it anyway, letting the steam touch his face. It gave him something to look at that wasn’t Loren’s swollen eyes or Marcos trying too hard to sit normally beside him.
Silence settled through the kitchen as the three of them sipped their tea. Sebastian kept his eyes down, trying to sort through his own mind and slow down his heart.
Thoughts of his father made themselves known too easily as he circled what Loren had said.
Sebastian’s fingers tightened around the cup.
Loren had been right. That was the part he couldn’t get around, no matter how badly he wanted to. He had always only been looking out for himself.
Even now, when Loren had come to him for support, it had switched hands too quickly. He had become the one crying. The one held. The one reassured.
His finger circled the rim of the cup, and he felt Marcos’ knee tap his own. He glanced up.
Marcos wasn’t looking at him, but at Loren. His knee still rested against Sebastian’s, steady and unmoving.
“So, Loren, right?” Marcos asked, not waiting for an answer. “What do you do?”
“Banking,” Loren said.
“That’s cool. I use those.”
“I love you, Bao. But seriously?” Loren questioned, meeting Sebastian’s gaze.
A laugh tried to rise in Sebastian’s chest and caught somewhere painful instead.
“It’s complicated.” Sebastian sighed. “I’m sorry about Dad and—”
“I know. But later.”
The words weren’t soft exactly, but they were gentler than before. Loren wrapped both hands around her own cup and leaned her hip against the counter, eyes dropping to the tea like she needed the break as much as he did.
A smile flickered on Sebastian’s face as he went to pick at his nails again, but stopped himself.
Marcos cleared his throat. “This is, uh, good tea.”
Sebastian raised his eyebrow, watching Marcos take a sip and his face pull tight. “You hate it.”
“Yeah, I do. Tea is disgusting.”
“Alright, I’ll tip it out—” Loren reached to grab the cup, but Marcos pulled it toward him.
“No.” He took another sip. “It’s mine.”
Loren stared at him, then looked to Sebastian.
In that moment, Sebastian felt both his worlds shift, inching closer together.
Not colliding. But close enough that Sebastian could feel the movement.
He wasn’t ready for it. He also knew he wouldn’t be able to avoid it forever.
But his sister stood in his kitchen, putting her own baggage aside to make him tea. To show she cared. He could do that, too. He would.
Loren turned back to the counter, and Marcos’ knee stayed firm against his. Sebastian dropped his gaze to the tea, breathing through the strange pressure in his chest, and let the silence hold for a little longer.