Sebastien Struck

prologue: act iii

act three

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act iii: an end

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The next time he saw her was almost three years later, at his brother's girlfriend's store opening.

He had managed to dodge her well enough as time passed, making up excuses when Tai invited him over to plans he knew she would be at.

He had already been quite good at being alone before he met her, but he turned into a complete recluse after that night, much to his brother and friends' dismay.

He saw them just enough to appease them.

To let them know that he was fine.

But never more than that.

And seemingly, she hadn't mentioned anything about that night to Tai, because Tai hadn't brought up anything to Sebastien.

And it didn't seem like Tai hated him.

She protected him rather than tell his friends what had transpired between the two of them.

It was a kindness he didn't deserve.

He found out from an off-hand comment that she had gotten into med school. It sent warmth coursing through him. She appeared confident on the outside, but he saw the anxiousness in her eyes when she had spoken about it.

There was not a doubt in his mind that she would have gotten in.

He was happy for her.

Her life's trajectory was on the way up, as she had planned.

His was at a standstill.

But then life seemed to shift when his brother Jakob met Callan. She was an amazing woman, kind and funny, and Jakob was completely, utterly, wholeheartedly, besotted with her.

Sebastien was happy for his brother, happy that he had found someone like her. He deserved it.

But Callan's entrance into his brother's life, and by extension his own, meant that both men were socialising a lot more than they had been previously.

He didn't mind it too much, he just knew what was inevitable.

And three years later, as he looked across the room at the woman who had occupied his every thought from the moment he met her, he wished that the inevitable would have been less painful.

He wished it didn't cut across his chest as though a knife had slashed through him.

But he didn't deserve to wish.

He didn't even deserve to look at her.

Not that night years ago.

And not any other night after that.

But his eyes couldn't help follow her around the room as she walked; she stood with her shoulders back, every conversation she engaged in was effortless. She looked older, in a way that was a testament to time and maturity rather than anything else.

And beautiful.

She would always be beautiful.

He watched her laugh, her brown eyes twinkling; he watched her smile, her face silken in the low light.

He even watched her speak to one of the models that were attending the store opening, a clawing at his throat and a burning feeling in his gut.

Jealousy.