CHAPTER 6
The evening of the show
REMI
I’m heading home earlier than usual, already feeling slightly on edge about tonight.
I’ve never sat through a play that long before, and the thought of spending four hours packed into a theatre seat, side by side with Sebastian, makes me more nervous than I’d like to admit.
I just hope he doesn’t notice how much his closeness affects me.
Especially since, with how late it’ll finish, we’ll almost certainly end up grabbing dinner together afterwards…
I tried reading a few reviews online, just to get an idea of what we’re in for, but I still don’t know what to expect.
Mostly, I’m curious to understand why this story matters so much to Sebastian.
Over breakfast this morning, despite being mildly distracted by one of his typically ridiculous pyjamas, I managed to catch that he was planning to swing by the flat to change after rehearsals at the conservatoire, then head to some appointment before meeting me at the theatre.
So I assumed I’d have the flat to myself to get ready. I was actually looking forward to a long, hot shower and taking my time choosing what to wear. According to Sebastian, there’s no need to dress up, but it’s still a night out at the theatre. I’m not about to show up in jeans and a hoodie.
I’m still turning all this over in my head as I unlock the front door, only to freeze.
There’s a body on the living room floor.
It takes me less than a second to realize it’s Sebastian.
He’s curled up tightly on the wooden floorboards, eyes closed, body completely stiff, face pale and damp with sweat.
He’s not moving.
A jolt of panic floods my system.
My heart hammers in my chest as I force myself not to hyperventilate. I have to stay calm. He needs me.
Somehow, I push through the fog and try to remember everything I’ve picked up from living with a medical student.
I drop to my knees beside him and gently check for a pulse.
Slow… but steady.
I exhale, shaky, but relieved.
Carefully, I lift his head and place it in my lap, brushing his sweat-soaked hair back from his forehead. Then I tap his cheek lightly, calling his name under my breath.
“Sebastian…”
Please wake up. Please be okay.
I give it ten seconds, long, endless seconds, then fumble for my phone with trembling hands, ready to call an ambulance,
when suddenly, Sebastian coughs and blinks, dazed.
“Remi… I… I’m sorry…”
His voice is faint and unsteady as he looks up at me, overwhelmed and unsure.
He tries to sit up, leaning on one elbow, but before I can stop myself, I wrap my arms around him and pull him gently against my chest.
“You have nothing to apologise for,” I say, trying to keep my voice from shaking.
“Just tell me how you’re feeling. You scared me half to death… I really think we should take you to the hospital, just to be safe, alright?”
But he tenses almost immediately and pulls back, his hands resting on my shoulders. When our eyes meet, his gaze is steady. Resolute.
“No. It’s okay. Really. It was just a dizzy spell. I’m fine now.”
There’s something in his voice, firm, almost pleading,
and I already know there’s no changing his mind.
Still, I can’t just let it go.
“Seb, that wasn’t just a dizzy spell. You blacked out. We should at least get you checked out. Things like this don’t happen for no reason…”
His jaw tightens, and he shakes his head again, more gently this time. Then he takes my hand in both of his, his expression softening.
“Remi, I’m really sorry I scared you… But this isn’t the first time. I’ve had these… episodes before. Usually, when I’m under a lot of pressure or haven’t been sleeping.
They look worse than they are, I promise.”
I study his face, searching for what he’s not saying.
He looks away, bites his lip, nervous, but trying to stay composed.
“You’ve seen a doctor, right?” I ask quietly, still not entirely reassured.
He sighs, tired, but calm. Like he’s said all this before.
“Yes. My GP in Paris knows everything. He ran a bunch of tests, and everything came back clear. He thinks it’s panic attacks. I’ve already done therapy, but so far… it hasn’t helped much.”
His voice drops, and for a moment, he looks completely defeated.
I fight the urge to pull him back into a hug, but I keep my hand in his, holding it gently, waiting in silence.
“I know I should have told you earlier,” he murmurs, “but I’ve kept this completely private until now. If word got out that I suffer from debilitating anxiety… it could ruin everything.
My career would be over.”
There’s something in his voice, raw, quiet, terrified, that cuts straight through me. I can’t help it anymore. I reach out and pull him into my arms.
He doesn’t resist. He just melts into me, as if he’s been waiting for this, like it’s the only place he feels safe right now.
And I understand. He doesn’t have to say more.
One panic attack onstage, and everything he’s worked for could fall apart. No orchestra would take the risk. No concert hall would book him. His insurance would skyrocket. His reputation, gone.
It’s not just the anxiety, it’s everything it represents.
The risk, the stigma, the weight of what it could cost him.
So we stay like that for a long time, wrapped in silence, breathing together in the stillness.
No words, no pressure, just the quiet comfort of being there, fully present, holding each other up.
Eventually, I shift slightly and tilt his chin up until his eyes meet mine.
“Panic attacks can be treated, right?”
He nods.
“Then don’t give up, Seb. There are amazing specialists here in London. If the therapy in Paris didn’t help, maybe something different will. Francis is finishing his training at St. Thomas’, and he knows a lot of doctors. He could help you find the right one.”
“I know,” Sebastian says softly. “Actually… that’s one of the reasons I wanted to spend the summer here.”
I nod. “Then I’ll text Francis now, and…”
“No.”
He lets go of my hand, his voice suddenly firm.
“Not yet. Please. I just… I need a bit more time.
I trust you, Remi. And I appreciate everything you’ve done, really, but I’m not ready to share this with anyone else. Not yet.”
I nod again, instantly. Of course, I won’t push him.
He doesn’t owe me anything.
Still, I know he can see the worry on my face, because his expression softens.
“I swear,” he says quietly, “I’ll talk to Francis. I’ll find someone. Just… not today. These episodes don’t happen often, I’ll be okay until then.”
I want to believe him. I really do.
And I know the only thing I can do now is respect his boundaries and be there for him if it happens again.
But I make one thing clear before letting it go: if anything like this happens again before he gets help, we won’t wait anymore.
Not even a day.
Once we’ve reached a kind of agreement, Sebastian gets to his feet and, completely unfazed, announces that he’s going to get ready for the theatre.
I stare at him, stunned.
“You’re kidding, right? After what just happened?”
He shrugs, already heading down the hallway, then glances back at me with that familiar, mischievous grin.
“Come on, Remi. I’m fine. Don’t even try to talk me out of it. I’ve been waiting to see this show for weeks.”
And just like that, he disappears into his room, still grinning.
I stay frozen for a few seconds, trying to process everything, then finally shake my head and make my way to my own room to get ready.
Honestly, I’m not entirely sure what to make of the boy who’s been wandering around my flat lately.
But one thing’s clear: there’s a lot more to Sebastian than meets the eye.