CLAIMED // 18+

Chapter Sixteen - Sebastian

In my dreams, I've only seen the worst nightmares ever since I grew old enough to understand the things people surrounding me were indulging themselves with. They killed people, beat people if they couldn't do what they were ordered to do, and most importantly-- they were never caught for the heinous things they did. And what covered their crimes and their wrongdoings were the money. The gold. And their ancestry.

Growing up from a young and innocent boy who knew little of the real world-- to be exact, the world I'd have to live in under my family name-- my father consistently tried to teach me that all bad things weren't actually bad, and that they were mostly termed as 'bad' by people who could not own up to their decisions. To truly survive in a ruthless world, everything is 'bad' as they are 'good'.

Bad for others, good for you. So, how can you possibly say what's bad and what's good, son?

Even though my dad really tried, it never really happened to me-- what he'd always wanted. I never became anything like him. There were times, countless times, when I tried to not think anymore and just let go of my useless morals. But it was easier to think than to do. And I could never really let go.

"Young master Sebastian, your father has..."

"Your father has passed away. He was shot, to death."

I hadn't visited his grave for once in the last three years he's been dead. Not even one time. But at midnight, with my wedding only three days away, I wake up with a pang in my chest and eyes filled with water, barely holding back from rolling down my face like heavy raindrops. Due to the impact of how I woke up, I end up awaking Elaine.

"Is everything okay, babe?" she asks with concern showing in her low, half-sleeping voice.

I look over my shoulder. Last night was so good, I can still taste her in my mouth.

I lean it and plant a soft peck on her lips "Everything's fine. It was just a bad dream, I suppose."

"Okay," she replies in a drowsy tone, basically mumbling "you get nightmares very often. Do you need me to do anything to help?"

"No, it's fine. It's just dreams. They aren't real." I give her a reassuring smile, and she smiles back. 

"Come here, then." She opens up her arms and pushes the sheets below, being utterly naked underneath them. "Let me help you."

I scoot over to her side and she wraps me in her arms, gently against her chest. She smells so great all the time, it fills up my mind at an instant. I can never get enough of it. She slowly pats me on the back of my head, and kisses me softly on my forehead.

"No more bad dreams, now." She whispers "get some sleep."

And very soon, my mind is shut and instead, I'm dreaming of her. 

***

Do you notice how it always rains whenever there's a graveyard scene in literally every movie ever? Be it a funeral, or a mere visit to the grave of a late character, it always gotta rain.

As I'm walking over to my dead father's grave, I have a bouquet of white lillies in my hand and a clear sky above my head. 

"Hello, father." I place the flowers down by the tombstone, and stare blankly towards the grass that's grown over his coffin "Have you been well?"

I take out a pack of premium cigarettes, the ones father used to love, and slip out a cigarette to light it and place it between my lips.

I never wondered how it'd feel to be near my father's grave all this time. I never thought of going, so neither did I think about how it would make me feel. Would I be sad? Would I neutral? Or would a deeply hidden part of me be glad that his death has practically saved the lives of many people? 

But, at this moment, I feel a feeling I'm not sure I felt before. It's not grieving, loss or sadness. It's not happiness or relief, either.

I feel empty. In a sort of 'void and dark' way. My father's death doesn't bring either of the two basic categories of human emotion. I'm staring blankly at my dad's name written on the stone. And even though my hands are shaking under the pockets of my trench coat, I  feel nothing inside my head. I'm drawing a blank, am not sure of what to think or what to say to my dad's grave. All I know is that... he's gone. He won't ever be back again. And that, I didn't meet his expectations.

I couldn't be ruthless like him, merciless and cold-hearted like him. I couldn't let go-- the way he always expected from his only son. I disappointed him.

But, I'm not disappointed with myself.

"Don Sebastian?"

A familiar voice makes me turn my head around instantly, and then I see Mitch Grayson, consigliere,  standing with a black hat on his head. This man still dresses up like it's the 1950s, although he wasn't even born around that time.

That aside, I really hoped to not run into anyone today.

"G-Grayson," I say, facing him. He walks to my side and puts down a flower bouquet beside mine.

"I didn't think I'd see you here today, sir." He says, as composed and straight-laced as always "it's your first time visiting late Don's grave, isn't it?"

"You always know things, Mr. Grayson." I exhale "what brings you here today?"

"It's a weekend," he replies, clamming his hands together "I always come on weekends."

Knowing that Grayson visits my dad's grave every weekend doesn't surprise me. I always knew ever since I took over the empire, that he doesn't like the way I work and the way I'm handling the family business. It's totally different from how my dad used to do it. Grayson doesn't like that I'm not gritty and raw. My grandfather took him into the family when he was only an abandoned child and then raised him to stand beside my father at all times. He took it the hardest when he passed, although he doesn't show it through his expressions.

I break the 5-minute silence between us "I'm sorry I never came."

"Are you apologizing to me?"

"Yes, actually." I bum out the cigarette and toss it into the trash by taking a couple steps to it "and I'm also apologizing for not having what my father wanted from me. I figured only you can tell him that."

He lightly scoffs, as I can see by the corner of his lips "I'm afraid you're wrong, Don Sebastian. You've only got your father to tell that to. I'm only a mere adviser."

"You're not," I chuckle "you're the only reason the business is still on papers."

"Barely, sir." he peers his head to my side to look at me "since the last three years-- and the notoriety of the Miguel family has changed a lot. It's getting the lawmen bored."

"That much I'm aware of," I respond, clicking my tongue "my father gave his dear life to protect our name. Gave his life away, by a single bullet, only for his incompetent son to be an utter failure."

Grayson remains quiet after my words. There's nothing either of us could possibly say about something as true as this.

He then finally sighs "You're not a failure, sir. You only changed things to your tastes."

I chuckle under my breath and tilt my head up to the clear, blue sky and its floating, big clouds. There's not a single sign of rain.

Grayson continues to say "you're getting married to Miss Elaine Wood. You listened to my words  quite nicely."

I smile, looking down to my shoes, and then to my father's grave one last time.

"I love her, Grayson. And if I changed something, it won't stop here. I'm changing everything, because I love her that much."

To be continued...