i don't feel safe anymore

Part 18

   "Shit," Sebastian hissed under his breath when he made another mistake. Annoyed with himself, he dropped the pencil and slumped back, the leather of the couch moaned under his movement, veiling his face with his massive hand. He had been working in the living room since their return from the store after they put the groceries away. Nadine helped, a little bit, and that was only because she was looking for the magazine. The moment she found it, she was off.

   A small fire crackled in the stone fireplace. The shifting light danced over the papers on the coffee table. Alone, Sebastian decided to get some work done. But, like always, his mind kept escaping him, and he was messing up left and right. The frustration built like a turmoil inside Sebastian. When he gazed up, he found Nadine standing in the hallway entrance, staring back at him with her wide emerald gold eyes. His breath seemed to leave him.

   "Oh, I'm sorry," Sebastian quickly murmured as he shoved the papers together into a presentable stack. He could feel Nadine's continuous gaze linger on his every move. "Did I wake you?" Sebastian murmured in a weary tone. "I'm sorry."

   Nadine inhaled as she quietly leaned against the wooden frame of the hallway's entrance. She watched him, her face void of any expression as if she were thinking of something—losing herself in her thoughts. Her soft ribboned braids laid against her collarbone. Sebastian sighed.

   She pushed off the wall, and quietly padded into the kitchen. Sebastian could hear the faint sounds of bare footsteps, cabinets opening and closing, the fridge roaring to life from the door being opened and crushed ice moving around, clanging against the edge of a glass cup.

   With a heavy exhale, Sebastian leaned his head against the top of the couch and stared up at the ceiling.

   Nadine poured the bottle of brown liquor she had seen Sebastian drink from several times whenever he worked past sunset. She heard him sigh from the living room area and peeked over her shoulder. The way his head rested against the top of the couch, audible exhaustion, Nadine began to feel crestfallen. She could see the weariness in Sebastian all day. In small movements like when he'd run his hand down his face. She walked the drink to Sebastian in the living room. His gaze fell on her. The way the crackling fire lit up the side of her face, outlining her gentle features, in the dim lighting, she looked almost older.

   Sebastian ran his hand over the back of his neck. "Thanks," he uttered under his breath as he took the glass she held out like an offering. Nadine trailed toward the fireplace. She ran her delicate hand along the shelf above the dancing flames, from the center towards the edge by the record player and vinyls. She showed obvious  interest as she ran her finger along the turntable.

   "That was my grandfather's," Sebastian said into his drink as he observed her. "He got it in France." She crouched down in front of the record player, her white cotton nightgown pooled on the carpeted floor around her legs, and went through the collection of vinyls. She pulled one out and began playing it. The melody came alive, and Sebastian nearly forgot he even had the record. A jazzy-like song filled the room. Her gaze darted back to him, and Sebastian swallowed. The liquor burned his throat. But he welcomed the feeling when his muscle began to loosen and he relaxed ever so carefully. Nadine pushed off the floor. Her dress pulled up, and her petite, crimson knees flashed. His gaze focused on her as she walked over to the leather couch beside him. When she sat down, her scent surrounded him—bubblegum and an artificial cherry smell filling the air with its sweetness.

   Nadine rested her head against Sebastian's shoulder, and he stiffened. Unsure of what to do, he stared into the fire for a long moment as they sat in silence together. In an airy tone, Nadine murmured for Sebastian to tell her a story. Serenity filled her pure voice. Sebastian inwardly chuckled as he brought the glass to his lips. "I don't know any," he confessed. He was never told any growing up.