Her Therapist

Chapter 15.

SEBASTIAN

"What the...", my best friend murmurs when he opens his eyes. His instinct is to cover them with his palms because I have pushed the curtains, so the light can be focused directly on him, to wake him up sooner.

"Good morning to you, too." I cross my arms and lean in the armchair next to the window, and in front of the bed.

"Seb", he whispers, weakly, his voice raspy. I stretch my hand to give him the cup of water that is resting on his nightstand. He groans and pushes himself to sit, rubbing his eyes. He takes it, and takes a gulp, with closed eyes. When he is done, he stretches his hand to place the cup back on the table, but it almost falls because he misses it completely, and I rush to take it from his hands. 

"It's okay. How are you feeling?"

"Like a truck has run over me", he grunts, shaking his head, and running his hand through his short blonde messy hair.

"I can imagine", I chuckle slightly. 

"Don't laugh", he orders, pointing his finger at me in a threatening way. "How did... Where is the..." He turns to look at the other side of the bed as if he was expecting someone. "Did I fuck someone?"

"You tell me. I don't know. I wasn't with you." I play with the buttons of the collar of my shirt. I run my hands through my unshaved beard, cursing Larsson for making a scene, and not letting me shave it. Now, I have to appear at the job looking like an animal. "I've just come."

"What happened?" He pushes the sheets off him, revealing his black boxers, and I begin to wonder did Peter take him off, and did he have any trouble putting him in bed. I know I had trouble doing that with Larsson even though she weighs 40 kilograms in total, and besides I could carry her like a child, I don't think that Peter carried Conor the same way, with his legs around his waist.

"You ask me? You get so much drunk that the worker in the bar you were in drunk calls me because you are calling my name, and passed out, being unable to move, and you dare to ask me what happened?", I raise my voice, getting up nervously from the armchair. I entwine my hands behind my back and walk like that through the big room Conor has for himself, and his one-night-stands. 

"Seb", he whines, but I shake my head, still walking through the room.

"Don't you Seb me", I hiss, not sure what to say. What to do with him. "If your father..."

"My father won't know for this, Sebastian", he cuts me off, and I snap my head to him, to see that he has sat on the edge of the bed, his feet placed on the ground. "You won't tell him."

"And what do I do? You..."

"I will change", he retorts, and my brows knit together. 

Sure.

"Of course", I roll my eyes. "You have said that millions of times."

"This time it is for sure."

"What makes this one an exception?" I cross my arms against my chest and tilt my head. 

"I'm telling you..."

"It will be the same", I say, and turn on my heel to leave the room. "Come on, I'll make you a coffee", I shout and enter the enormous kitchen his apartment has.

His apartment resembles mine a little. Though, he has more artworks, even though he, like Esther, doesn't know the names nor the authors of half of them. His father bought this for him when he started going to college, and since then he's been living in this place. 

I remember as a student, he used to call me over tons of times, to study together, or just hang out before I moved in, so I used to come, and whenever I would, I'd be fascinated by the size of the whole apartment, let alone the balcony.