evermore || sebastian sallow

chapter 17 - lost in the memory

"You weren't mine to lose." -from august

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chapter 17 - lost in the memory

Sebastian's Perspective

I bolted upright on my bed, feeling sweat beading down my forehead. My heart was pounding against my chest, the air feeling too thin for my lungs.

Darting my eyes around the dimmed dormitory, I estimated it was still hours before sunrise. My roommates' snoring were the only ones occupying the silent space around me other than my own heavy breathing.

I heard Ominis stir in the bed next to me, still silently fast asleep. He was always a heavy sleeper, and I was glad for it because if he wasn't, I might've woken him up many times in a row by now.

These nightmares were getting out of hand. They were different every time, but what made them worse was that I was always with the same person each time.

I was always with Y/n. And every time, it was my fault that something happened to her. Every damned time.

I closed my eyes, pressing the heels of my palm against them, trying to calm my drumming chest. I took a few deep breaths, then opened them again.

I contemplated taking a quick visit to the Hospital Wing for something to help my brewing anxiety. Although it was way past curfew, Nurse Blainey would surely excuse my being out of bed at such a late hour.

After a few heartbeats though, I decided against it. I didn't want Nurse Blainey asking me why I needed such a potion. There were so many secrets I couldn't tell anyone. The only people who kept these secrets locked away were Ominis and Y/n.

I slid my legs off to the side of my bed, clutching the edge of it on either side of me. My plain white shirt was clinging to my sweaty skin.

I took a few more deep breaths to calm myself down, then realizing it was going to take awhile to get my mind off the nightmare, I grabbed my wand from the bedside table.

"Lumos," I whispered, my wand emitting a soft blue light.

I rummaged inside the drawer of my bedside table until I found the stack of Y/n's letters from last summer. I propped myself on the mattress again, closing the curtains of the four poster bed so I wouldn't disturb my roommates with my wand light.

Ever so gently, I untied the ribbon binding the letters together. I took one out and began to read.

She sent every letter with a scented parchment, from rose, to lilac, to lavender. Although the scents were now faded, the memories associated with them haven't.

I didn't see her a lot last summer, but with the amount of letters we sent each other, it felt like we spent almost every waking hour with each other anyway.

I never threw one out. I couldn't bring myself to. These letters were too precious to me.

I read one letter every night that I have a nightmare. There was a certain enchantment with her letters that dissolved my racing mind almost in an instant.

This letter that I had in my trembling hands was making me smile.

She talked about how she got back into painting recently, but insisted she was so out of practice her paintings were probably horrible. I remembered sending her back an owl saying she must be lying, and how I wanted to see the paintings someday.