DELGADO || Sebastian Sallow (Hogwarts Legacy)

Part 60 - Sunshine and Rainclouds

ꕀꕥ〡~𐀔~〡ꕥꕀ

❝That ridiculously perfect and endearingly annoying smile.❞

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"Me ha lastimado físicamente, Sebastián. (He has physically hurt me, Sebastian.)" 

The words barely made it past my lips.

Sebastian's brows knitted together, and he let out a heavy sigh. "I wish I had been there to stop him."

I turned toward the window, blinking away the tears threatening to fall. "It hurts, you know..."

"And it will get better," he said, his voice softer. "But it takes time. Same goes for him—he's sending his love."

Frustration tightened my throat as I bit my lip, hesitating over what I needed to say next. But I had to say it. "I think love is overrated at this point. What kind of person hurts someone they claim to love?" I looked at Sebastian, searching for an answer.

His gaze was steady. "We both do."

I wanted to argue, but he wasn't wrong. Instead, I gave him my own truth. "How we act is different. With us, it's just words and actions."

"I am not hurt—no, you're right. That's how it is." Fear flickered in his eyes as he took a step back, as if trying to clear his thoughts.

"We have to stop that," I said as I walked toward the bathroom cabinet, reaching for another pill. Sebastian followed closely behind. I placed the pill on my tongue and swallowed it with a sip of water, my eyes meeting his in the mirror. He knew I needed them to feel better, which was why he didn't stop me. Instead, he sat down on the edge of the bathtub, watching me in silence.

"I'm wearing this jacket because his scent is still on it," I admitted.

Sebastian said nothing, but something in my expression must have given me away, because he stood up, resting his hands on my shoulders. "Angelina Camilla Delgado, please don't tell me this is Marvolo's jacket."

Oh, fuck. He doesn't know. Marvolo probably didn't even mention his visit here. How the hell am I supposed to tell him that Marvolo is the reason for my black eye?

"Sebastian... I..."

Before I could finish, he stepped back too quickly and lost his balance, crashing into the bathtub with a grunt.

"Are you alright?" I hurried to help him up, struggling under his weight.

"I'll manage! Now speak up, sunshine, and don't lie to me. Did Marvolo visit you here in Spain, yes or no?" He gripped my arms, steadying himself.

My breath was shaky and weak, tears threatening to fall again. But I needed to be brave. He was offering me his help, and I would be a fool not to take it.

"He was here," I mumbled.

He pointed at my eye. "And that is his doing?" He was trying to stay calm, but I could see the tension in his jaw.

Sebastian suddenly sank to his knees, his hands clutching his stomach as a pained groan left his lips.

"You're bleeding, Sebastian!" I cried.

"My wounds..." he gritted his teeth. "I think they reopened... when I fell into the bathtub."

Without thinking, I threw his arm over my shoulder. "Come with me!"

We stumbled toward the bed, both of us nearly collapsing onto it.

"Lay down," I ordered.

"If you want me in your bed, all you have to do is ask," he smirked, but another sharp pain cut through him, and he groaned. "Fucking hell."

I managed a small smile. "Good, you can still make jokes, Sallow." I guided him down until he was sitting on the edge of the bed. "Where does it hurt?"

He didn't answer, but I had already started unbuttoning his shirt, peeling it away to examine his wounds. Beneath the fabric, his freckled, muscular torso was wrapped in white bandages, some of which were stained red.

"Where did all these wounds come from? Are these... the ones..." My voice trailed off as I grabbed a damp cloth from the bathroom.

By the time I returned, he was lying on his side. "When I protected you, yes," he said, playing the stoic hero as always.

The bandage at the center of his back was soaked in fresh blood. Carefully, I peeled it away and examined the wound.

"It just tore a little. I can clean it and rewrap it, but you need to rest afterward."

He looked up at me. "Alright, doc."

After tending to his wound, I settled into a chair near the balcony door, lighting a cigarette. My gaze drifted back to him—wounded, exhausted, lying in my bed.

His head turned toward me, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm here. If nothing else, I hope you know that. Even though we want different things. Even though our love wasn't enough."

His eyes closed.

"Thank you," I murmured.

A faint smile tugged at his lips. That ridiculously perfect, endearingly annoying smile.