SEBASTIAN
Remi’s eyes are wide, locked on mine.
He’d have every reason to be upset right now.
I’m the one who vanished into the crowd, the one who drank too much, the one who ruined the night.
But there’s no trace of frustration on his face.
Just concern. Something tender. Maybe even a little lost. It’s hard to tell.
He probably thinks I’m on the edge of another panic attack, and maybe he’s not wrong.
So I try to smile. Just enough to reassure him.
I want him to know I’m okay, or at least that I’m trying.
I wish I could tell him how much it means to have him here.
How safe I feel when he’s near.
But the words catch in my throat, thick and heavy.
So I just look at him, and hope he sees it all in my eyes.
I wouldn’t have fallen apart like this if I hadn’t drunk so much, but tonight was too much, all at once.
The rush of coming out.
The pressure of a packed club.
And the slow, terrifying realisation of just how deeply I feel for Remi, feelings I shouldn’t have, but do, all of it collided in my chest and knocked me flat.
And poor Ian… I basically used him as a distraction all night. Which obviously didn’t work, because even now, half-drunk and with my stomach still in knots, all I can think about is Remi. Just Remi.
I need to find a place of my own.
I need distance, before this gets completely out of hand.
Remi’s voice cuts through the fog, low and steady, but tinged with concern. “Seb… can you stand? I’m taking you home.”
I nod, trying not to seem like more of a burden.
“Yeah, I’ve got it, I’ll get up…”
Except I don’t. The second I try to push off the floor, my legs give way beneath me.
He’s there in a heartbeat, one hand catching the back of my head, the other circling my waist. He pulls me into him with a grip that’s firm but gentle, like he’s afraid I might shatter.
“Seb, is this, are you having a panic attack?”
There’s tension in his voice, something urgent just beneath the surface.
I shake my head, fast.
“No, no, I swear. It’s not that. I just… I think I might’ve drunk a bit too much.”
He lets out a breath, half a groan, half a laugh. “A bit too much? That’s the understatement of the year.”
I wince and glance down, heat rising to my face.
God, I’m mortified.
But his tone softens. “Hey, it’s fine. I’ve got you. Let me just message Francis and call us an Uber.”
I blink up at him. “You don’t want to say goodbye to the others?”
“Nope. Too loud. And you can’t even stand.”
Guilt twists in my chest. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to screw up your night.”
He’s already sent the message, tucking his phone away. “Let’s just get out of here.”
He slides his arm around my waist again and helps me towards the exit.
Each step is slow, but I feel steadier with him at my side, his presence grounding, his body warm and solid against mine.
We grab our jackets from the front desk, and by some miracle, a dark car is already waiting outside.
Remi gives the driver our address, then sinks down with me into the back seat. The leather is cool against my legs, a welcome contrast to the heat still simmering under my skin.
His arm drapes around my shoulders again, hand resting lightly against my side.
And it takes everything in me not to lean into him completely, not to surrender to the quiet comfort of his touch,
like it’s the only thing holding me together.
My head finds the hollow of his neck, and I shift slightly, breathing him in, his skin, his cologne, something faintly spicy and grounding. I know I shouldn’t, but I’m not exactly thinking clearly. I just need him right now. And maybe, just maybe, he needs me too.
His fingers move through my damp hair, slow and careful.
I close my eyes, letting the moment settle around me.
Then I feel it, his head lowering toward mine.
I glance up, and our eyes meet in that fragile space in between.
We don’t move.
We just stay there, caught in something quiet and charged, something we don’t quite dare to name.
Our hearts beat in time.
Is he about to kiss me?
No. That can’t be real. That’s just the alcohol, the night, the closeness, it has to be.
And then, like a dream slipping through my fingers, he pulls back. Not all the way, his hand still rests in my hair, but the warmth at my side fades. His gaze shifts, turning toward the window, lost in the blur of passing streetlights.
And I sit there in silence, wondering if any of it really happened… or if I just imagined the whole thing.