Sebastian Sallow and Noelle Ellis just can't understand each other's feelings.
sebastian sallow x OC
Disclaimer: This story contains mature content that may not be suitable for certain audience.
Published: February 2023.
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"I'll be in denial for a while. What about the plans we made?"
Third Person Perspective
Sebastian Sallow stood numb. No resistance. No plead. No fight. He didn't flinch when they dragged him in — didn't scream when his body got slammed into the iron-bound doors around him. Not at all.
He stood there, like a man who had expected this. He'd rehearsed this scenario hauntingly in nightmares the past year as if he had self-prepared such a consequence.
What was there to fight when you actually did kill your uncle?
And yet, within numbness and acceptance over his doomed life path, Sebastian was afraid. Not for himself, not really. He was afraid for those he'd left behind.
Ominis,
Anne,
Elle — oh, his Elle...
How rigorous that the most terrifying moment of his life wasn't facing Azkaban, but thinking about what came next to those he cared about.
"Argh," Sebastian broke his first painful call.
The Ministry Guards threw him into a small, claustrophobic room. It wasn't a cell. It seems they took a pause somewhere else to verify his identity and prepare him for one.
Tears of sweat trailed down Sebastian's head. He could feel the trickles of his body fluid poke his eyelids as he hardly breathed from the guards' physical violation.
They held no mercy.
Hands violently stripped off Sebastian Sallow. The once fancy suit — the same one he spent weeks to impress, the golden embroidery his beloved touched that night, his bowtie clashing on the floor; it was all gone.
Again, Sebastian didn't fight. He held this mindset that he deserved it. That the run from his criminal actions wasn't going to last long, but why now? Why?
The setting in Azkaban was horror. The feeling of despair, misery — unfelt pain ram around. Sebastian couldn't tell if it was him or the prison consequences. He was suffering already. It was dreadful. Cold.
Sebastian shivered beneath the stripped cold of the small space. The guard held these uncaring eyes, awaiting for the soon-to-be prisoner to seek help. To cry out. He wasn't going to give them that satisfaction.
He hadn't been someone who cried easily. Not at all. Never had been. The Sallow man wore his ego like an armor. Hid his emotions with humor and charm. It kept him upright.
