"You are poison to me, but I love how it hurts."
Sebastian and Skye met only months ago, but their story has only started.
A couple months ago, Sebastian and Skye finally told her parents about their relationship... but there was more to the story t...
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"So how are you doing?" Sebastian asked me as we stepped through the woods.
We decided to take the long way home—through the forest—because I wanted to walk with him for a little.
I kicked a rock, watching as it skittered down the path. "How do you think?"
He sighed softly. "I'm sorry that all this is happening. It's... it's mainly my fault."
I stopped then, and he slowed and turned to face me.
I pointed an accusing finger at him. "Don't... Don't say that."
"But, Skye," he urged, "I'm the one—"
"Are you my mother?" I demanded.
He paused for a moment before answering, "No, last I checked." He smiled. "I hope not."
I shook my head at his attempt at humor. "Were you the one who murdered my birth father?"
"No," he said then, "I wasn't even born yet, Skye."
"Exactly," I told him, making him blink, "my mother grew angry after my father's death, my mother murdered your parents, which caused North to want revenge. This was not on you, Sebastian. Everything was either on North or my mom."
He smiled a little. "You think that...? But what about how we hid North from our parents for so long?"
"That was your parents, Sebastian," I told him, making his smile fall. "Not you. And... it wasn't even them! They were just trying to care for a child that never loved them back. All this is because of stupid Lucifer! All of this wouldn't be happening if he'd just take away the curse on the heavens!"
"If he did, though..." Sebastian whispered, "then the angels would send fallen back to hell again."
"Exactly," I told him, voice soft, "so the blame goes back to my mother. It's never on you, Sebastian. Never was, never will be, understand?"
He smiled and nodded, and I just breathed out a sigh and continued walking, and he followed.
"I know you're upset," he said as we continued walking, "but can you just talk to me for a little? What you're feeling? How it makes you feel? What hurts, what doesn't?"
I sighed, shaking my head. "Uhm... talk? Sure. Not used to it, but sure. What am I feeling?" I thought for a moment, closing my eyes as I dove into myself. "Anger, fear, hatred, disappointment, terror... and... depression."
His eyes softened.
"How does it make me feel?" I continued. "Like shit. What hurts? I guess my chest." I pressed my hand to it. "Whenever I have anxiety problems, I tend to have chest pains and my stomach hurts. What doesn't?" I dropped my hand. "I don't know, nothing? At this point I feel like I've been running on pure adrenaline for the last few weeks."
