The Other Side of Here - E.M. Lindsey Page 0,65

“It’s the softest one she’s ever made.”

Xan’s fingers tugged at the edges, then he looked up with hooded eyes. “I can’t take this.”

“Yes, you can,” Sebastion told him. He sat down at the edge of the bed, then fiddled with the opening of the bag because suddenly he felt very unsure about the journals. It was obvious that most of Xan’s pain was about the loss he’d suffered from years of coping through writing. And now he was terrified that it would only make his pain worse.

“Sebastion?”

He glanced up at the soft way Xan said his name. “I got you something else, but I need you to know that if it’s wrong, or if it’s too much, I won’t be offended. I picked them up the other day—when you were staying with us.” He hesitated for only a second, then he reached in and pulled everything out. He put them in a neat pile next to Xan’s foot, and he realized he wasn’t brave enough to look up.

“Notebooks,” Xan said, his voice almost a whisper.

“It seemed ah…appropriate at the time,” Sebastion said. He lifted his gaze but found he couldn’t read Xan’s expression. “I’ve never been great at gift giving, so I just…”

His words were cut off when suddenly he had an armful of trembling man, and it took no effort at all to shift Xan so he was seated more comfortably, tucked close to his chest. He wasn’t crying, that much was obvious, but he was very clearly affected, and Sebastion didn’t know if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

Or maybe an overwhelming mix of both.

He knew that feeling intimately.

“Sor—” Xan started, then cut himself off. “I mean. Thank you.”

Sebastion chuckled, then gently eased him back. “I promise if you don’t want them…”

“I do.” Xan slid away, something like guilt flickering across his features, and Sebastion hated that he couldn’t tell him the truth. But it was becoming more and more obvious that the truth would only make things worse.

Xan shuffled back into his original spot, then pulled the first journal from the top of the pile and opened it to the front page. It was fancier than the ones Sebastion had put into the box, and he felt a little bit foolish now for it. But the way Xan traced around the embossment on the front, and the way he thumbed the heavy pages told him he understood it was meant to be important.

Maybe even a little bit precious.

“This is way too nice to write in,” he murmured after a beat.

Sebastion snorted, and he used his toes to pull his shoes off, then he shifted up onto the bed next to the younger man. “I would argue it’s way too nice to leave blank.” He reached over and dragged his finger along the edge of the cover. “I never did keep a journal. My therapist suggested once that I do it for the nightmares I was having, but I didn’t want to remember them.”

Xan glanced at him for a second. “Do you regret it?”

“No,” he breathed out. “I don’t think it would have helped. I still have them sometimes.”

Letting out a heavy breath, Xan curled his arms around his knees and laid his cheek against them. His eyes were half-closed and not looking at Sebastion, but he seemed more present than he was before. “So, this is like a thing? This awful feeling is going to stick around forever?”

Sebastion shook his head and leaned back. “Not all the time. I go months—sometimes even years—without thinking about him.”

“Rhys,” Xan murmured.

It felt strange to hear his ex’s name on Xan’s lips, but it wasn’t as uncomfortable as he thought it would be. “Rhys.”

Xan’s eyes closed, but Sebastion could tell he wasn’t close to sleep. “Was it always bad? I mean, were there red flags you missed or…I don’t know. Ignored?”

“No…and yes,” Sebastion admitted. “He came to me like this wounded puppy who wanted to be fixed, and I was this idealistic young man who thought love could fix him. That was his thing—people like me with a soft heart.” Sebastion squeezed his eyes shut and said something aloud he’d only ever thought before. “He would have destroyed Luca.”

Xan made a soft, wounded noise. “God. Fuck that.”

Sebastion’s laugh was tinged with bitterness. “I know. Luca wasn’t as vulnerable as me though. I grew up on the fringes of acceptance. My parents were so rooted in the Deaf community, I didn’t know how to exist outside of it, and

readonlinefreenovel.com Copyright 2016 - 2024