SEBASTIAN
I have to admit, Maddie’s got excellent taste.
At least when it comes to appearances, because Remi… well, he’s absolutely gorgeous.
He must be at least six foot two, with the kind of lean, athletic build that makes you think of a swimmer, broad shoulders, narrow waist, defined abs. Strong, but not bulky.
Definitely not the slightly awkward, bookish physics guy I’d pictured.
And his face is just as striking, sharp jawline, a well-shaped nose with a hint of an upward tilt, and those deep hazel eyes, almond-shaped and intense. Then there’s his hair, a thick, tousled mess of ash-blond strands that fall right into his eyes.
The kind of effortless look that somehow feels deliberate, and completely unfair.
But what really throws me is the way he looked at me, well, at me and my bright pink suitcase, and just… froze.
For a second, he seemed totally caught off guard. And before I knew it, we were both on the floor, limbs everywhere.
I really hope he’s not the type to get hung up on colours or what’s considered “appropriate” for a man.
And more than that, I hope to God he’s not one of those quiet homophobes you only notice when it’s too late.
I’ve spent enough of my life pretending to be something I’m not. And I’m not going back to that, not for anyone.
But… I don’t think he’s like that.
He just looked surprised. A little overwhelmed.
Maybe I should give him the benefit of the doubt.
As I try to untangle myself from him, I catch a trace of his scent, clean and musky, and suddenly realize, with a rush of embarrassment, that I can feel every inch of his body pressed against mine.
He’s solid, warm… and kind of hard to ignore.
Not exactly the ideal way to meet someone, but there’s something weirdly endearing about the whole situation.
He’s blushing now, clearly mortified. He runs a hand over his face like he’s trying to disappear behind it, then lets it drop, and from this close, I notice golden flecks in his hazel eyes.
Little sparks of colour that catch the light when he’s flustered.
And finally, he finds his voice.
“I’m so sorry, Sebastian… I don’t know what I, how I, God, are you okay? Please tell me I didn’t hurt you. I can’t believe I was that stupid.”
He shakes his head, clearly spiralling, and I realize I need to step in before he talks himself into a meltdown.
I’ve always thought of myself as the sensitive one, but it turns out I’m not the only one with a flair for overreacting.
As I get to my feet, I keep my tone light and calm, even though I’m struggling not to smile. This is, without a doubt, the most dramatic welcome I’ve ever had.
“Don’t worry, Remi, really. I’m fine, it was my fault. I lost my balance and fell into you. I just hope you’re alright.”
“No, no, it was me. I pulled your arm too hard… I’m so sorry. I’m fine, though, really.”
I offer him my hand. He hesitates for a second, probably wondering whether I’ve got the upper body strength to be of any use, but then he takes it, and we both get to our feet.
He brushes himself off, mutters a quick thank-you, and looks at me for a moment longer than expected.
There’s a flicker of awkwardness in his expression, like he’s still recalibrating.
But then, slowly, he seems to pull himself together.
He gives me a small, polite smile and finally slips into host mode.
“Come on, Sebastian, I’ll show you around the flat and take you to the guest room. You must be tired after the trip.”
“Not really,” I admit, still slightly breathless. “I’m too excited to be back in London. I’ve missed this city so much. Paris is beautiful and I love France, but England… it’s home.”
He nods but doesn’t say anything. Still a little stiff, but no longer flustered.
We walk through the flat together. It’s small, but the view is stunning.
The open-plan kitchen and living room look out over Shaftesbury Avenue, and from the big bay windows you can see the theatre signs lining the street, glowing softly in the evening light.
A rush of anticipation rises in me. I can’t wait to see a show.
There’s something magical about theatre in London.
No matter what kind of play or musical you’re watching, it always feels like a shared ritual.
Something open. Inviting. For everyone.
It’s not exclusive, the way it can be elsewhere, or the way classical music often ends up being. Here, theatre feels inclusive. Joyful. And somehow, that just makes it more meaningful.
When I’m on stage, performing, I know I’m playing for a very specific audience, people who know classical music, who come with expectations. And I’m grateful, of course. They’re the reason I get to do what I love.
But sometimes I wish I could share music with more people.
With those who might never think of going to a concert hall.
Reach someone who didn’t grow up surrounded by sonatas and symphonies.
Lately, that thrill I used to feel before stepping on stage has started to fade. The pressure, the expectations, they sit heavier every time. That tightness in my chest before a performance, that fear of getting it wrong… it’s been growing.
And I haven’t told anyone. Not even Maddie.
But this isn’t the moment to dwell on it.
I pull my gaze away from the window and turn,
only to find Remi watching me again, quietly.
There’s something curious in his eyes, thoughtful, but he doesn’t speak. He simply tilts his head slightly and gestures down the hall.
He seems more composed now, even if there’s still a slight tension in the way he moves, like his body hasn’t quite caught up with his mind.
I can’t figure him out. Beyond the good looks, I really don’t know what to make of him, and that’s rare for me.
Usually, I’m good at reading people. I don’t often get it wrong.
But with Remi, there’s something… unsettled.
I’d expected him to be guarded, maybe even distant, but instead, he just seems thrown. Like I’ve knocked him off balance somehow.
“My room and the main bathroom are here,” he says, nodding toward two doors near the start of the hallway.
Then he leads me into the guest room.
“This is you. It’s not huge, but it has a private bathroom. I hope it’ll be comfortable. There are towels, a bathrobe, and toiletries in the cupboard. Let me know if you need anything else.”
The room, like the rest of the flat, is tastefully minimal, with white and grey tones, clean lines, and not a thing out of place.
My bright pink suitcase looks completely ridiculous in the middle of it.
I can’t help smiling, remembering Remi’s face earlier when he first saw it.
But then I realize he’s still looking at me, waiting for a reaction.
There’s something in his eyes I can’t quite name.
I bite my lip, a little shy. “I’m sure I’ll be perfectly comfortable. You and Maddie have a beautiful home, and I really appreciate you letting me stay… I just wish she were here. But I’ll try not to get in your way, I promise.”
He shakes his head, as if to say don’t worry about it, but I keep going.
“I’m planning to start looking for a place near the conservatoire soon. Hopefully, on Monday, I can check out some agencies, see what’s available.”
“Don’t stress, Sebastian,” he says. “There’s no rush.
You can stay as long as you need. Anyway, I’ll leave you to unpack and get some rest. If you need anything, I’ll be in the living room, working.
It’s Saturday, so I’m not at uni.” He pauses, then adds, “Oh, and tonight I’m having dinner with some friends.
Anne will be there too. If you feel up to it, I’m sure she’d love to see you. ”
I smile, genuinely touched by how kind he’s being.
But before I can say anything, Remi turns suddenly and walks off down the hallway, leaving me alone in the quiet room.
Maddie’s boyfriend is definitely… unusual. And maybe that’s exactly why I find him so intriguing.
He’s nothing like the image I had in mind.
Actually, I’m starting to think Maddie might have been right; getting to know him might turn out to be more interesting than I expected.