𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬

𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍.

𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝑴𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝑻𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝑵𝒖𝒓𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒂 𝑹𝒐𝒔𝒆.
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Suspicion grew, deep inside Sebastian's mind, that you knew something.

Four walls, coldly tiled so there wouldn't be any semblance of comfort, and three small windows into the wrecked mind of a twisted individual. It was all he saw. But he was after all a detective, and he noted the twists in your expressions, how you pressed the exact buttons a little too soon for someone with zero knowledge. Sebastian couldn't shake of the feeling that you knew something, but didn't know exactly what.

...

Your palms felt unusually slippery and damp in that moment. You tried your hardest to remain so very calm, collected, normal, stay normal, but there was indeed more than tragedy and disturbance in these rooms to you, and you feared that Sebastian would be catching onto the fact that you knew Ruben all too well.

Ruvik, as they called him, but then again that was nothing but a mockery made up by Jimenez.

Ruben, Ruben, Ruben... It was lovely, how that name tasted against your tongue.

You struggled to not say it out loud, out of remembrance or greed, or even fear and sadness, as you uncovered the scenes that he had chosen to show you and Sebastian in this room. Things you wouldn't ever speak of because you didn't know or didn't dare, things you now thought that maybe he was afraid to reveal to you, back at Beacon, when you both spoke eye to eye. Your own suspicions grew, that Ruben had more control on this place that you had thought before.

Your heart broke and in its place bloomed emotions you had tried to suppress so hard, that you didn't want to admit you felt for the scarred man. And with the blood that these crucial memories bled, a door appeared, one that hadn't been there before, like everything in this place.

You dried some tears, quietly, before advancing without a word.

And Sebastian now missed your jovial nature, and wished so bad that it would come back, to grace him with its flourishing warm feeling once again. He gently squeezed your shoulder, and you turned to meet his vaguely concerned expression, which you cherished in the back of your mind for it was rare to see anything on his face that wasn't his regular frown.

"██████" He called out your name, breaking your personal space bubble with a proximity you wouldn't expect from him. "Are you OK? You seem out of it"

"I am, I just..-" You paused for a good minute, and scratched your ear to relieve an annoying itch. "Wow. I wonder what nasty things they're saying".

Sebastian looked confused.

"What?"

"My má used to say that if your left ear itches, someone is talking shit behind your back" you explained, and he seemed amused, by the slight smirk that tugged on the corner of his lips.

"Why would anyone want to talk ill of someone like you?" He said, a not so subtle compliment.

You shrugged, "I could be secretly evil, and you'd never know".

He let out a low chuckle, almost a giggle as he found that remark so funny and unbelievable, before walking forward alongside you. With that silly observation you had successfully distracted Sebastian, dissipated all his doubts and fears for now, and he wouldn't pry more about you for a while, until something happened that would make his little brain remember. You couldn't be prouder of your little lie.