The Aftermath // Sebastian Sallow x MC

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲 𝐓𝐰𝐨 - 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬

ᴛᴡ: ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ

𝑺𝒆𝒃𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒂𝒏'𝒔 𝑷𝑶𝑽

For being a researcher, I did not enjoy novelties at all, or at least not those I wasn't deliberately looking for. Discovering new things, learning, that was in my comfort zone; feelings, not so much.

I got used to loneliness, and I honestly thought I deserved it. I also got used to cold, aseptic relationships, to people I didn't really care about and who probably felt the same way about me. All I knew was casual relationships, people with no names nor identities, that I might never see again without having any regrets.

Sex to me was animalistic, an act of pure outburst, a mere release of serotonin and hormones, that had no meaning whatsoever.

Then, one evening in late October, she came to me: the one I had truly viewed as a partner for life six years before. She had every right to hate me, to never want to see me again, to shut me out of her life; if I were in her place, I would have done it without having any second thought. Instead, she had welcomed me back, including me in her story; she had chosen not to hurt me, when I had done it to her so many times that some act of vengeance on her side would have been more than fair.

It was scary, opening up after all that time. I had made peace with the idea of living the rest of my days alone by then, and the assumption that this could not have been the case made me feel as relieved as panicked. Despite my conversation with my parents and Anne, despite my attempts at redemption, I wasn't sure I deserved it. I wasn't sure I deserved her.

When she confessed that she was afraid of her feelings towards me, however, I realised that what was happening was obviously unknown to both of us, and it made me feel less alone. She made me feel less lonely.

In addition, there was the whole matter of her prophecy: Evanora's trials were clearly meant for two people, and my father's words began to make sense.

If Elizabeth was my destiny, then maybe I was hers.

Not that I didn't always suspect it: even as kids, I knew she would be in my life forever, at least until I left. I had always loved her.

Even back then, she had always been beautiful: her fiery red hair and the sea of freckles that sprinkled her face, her emerald eyes with that feline shape, had always been attractive to me even in that adolescent body, when she was a little clumsy, perhaps too incendiary.

The curves of her body that she used to cover with shame had always been wonderful to me, even when I was too young to understand the nature of my attraction; but it wasn't just that. She was charismatic, determined, smart, gifted, almost as curious as I was.

We spent whole nights with our noses buried deep into books, ready to discover what we didn't know yet; she loved nature, and taking walks in the Highlands woods; she was kind, she loved animals, and she took care of all the people around her without ever asking for anything in return. She was also grumpy, sensitive, sometimes arrogant, often cold and closed off, but for some reason she wanted me by her side, and she opened up to me like no other; at the time, I didn't realise how lucky I was.

Waking up that morning with her sweet smile, her naked body underneath mine, her fingers tracing shapes on my back, was something I had long dreamed of, but never seriously thought could actually happen to me. I felt a funny feeling in my stomach, knowing that she felt the same way for me, that she wanted what had happened the way I had wanted it.

I could spend every day and night with her like this: I wanted to try every secret fantasy of hers, to fulfil every wish, take her in every position and memorise every inch of her body, to catch that flirty, mischievous smile of hers and take it off of her face by grabbing her and kissing her breathless.