. Sebastian's POV
Back at the Saloon. Same as every other Friday night. Drunk farmers, sticky floors, and the faint scent of beer-battered regret in the air. The world keeps turning, and apparently, so do I.
Sam and I were halfway through a casual game of pool — or as casual as it could be with Abigail heckling us from the couch and Alex somehow managing to derail every conversation within a three-foot radius.
"Haley and I came to the gig, did y'all see us?" Alex asked, plopping down next to Abigail with a full mug in hand, grinning like he thought he'd get a gold star for showing up.
"No," I said flatly, lining up a shot.
The cue ball clacked, knocking the four into the corner pocket. Small victories.
"That song was deep," Alex added, lifting his beer like a toast to his own emotional insight. "Who wrote it? Haven't heard y'all drop something that intense before. Thought the roof was gonna start crying."
Abigail shot me a look.
I shot her one back — the kind that says don't you dare — just as Sam leaned in for his turn, blissfully neutral.
"It was a group effort," Abigail said, her voice clipped, but holding the line.
"Ah," Alex nodded, clearly not buying a word of it. "Well, whoever did — respect. I'm gonna grab another beer before the line gets brutal." And with that, he bailed, probably proud of himself for stirring the pot and ducking out before it boiled over.
Smart.
"You should give yourself more credit," Abigail said once Alex was gone, her voice soft.
"I don't want credit," I muttered, chalking my cue.
"You also don't want feelings, but here we are," Sam chimed in, not even looking up.
"I'm fine," I said, too quickly.
"You practically sprinted out of the club like it was on fire," he added. "You even left your synth plugged in."
"I said I'm fine."
There was a beat of silence. I focused on the pool table like it might offer me a black hole to fall into.
"I saw you scanning the crowd," Abigail said finally, her voice more curious than accusing. "Why?"
Sam paused mid-shot.
I exhaled slowly. "I just thought I saw someone."
"Hannah," Abigail guessed, not unkindly.
I didn't answer, but the look on my face must've done it for me.
"You have to let her go... for now," she added. "Seb, this isn't healthy."
"I know," I said, quieter this time. I rested my hand on the edge of the table, the cool wood grounding me. Her words landed like gravel in my throat — rough, but not wrong.
Then Sam, ever the master of timing, tossed in a grenade.
"Maybe she got the flyer I left on her porch."
Abigail and I both snapped our heads toward him.
"What?" I asked, sharp.
"You what?" Abigail echoed, blinking.
"I left a flyer," Sam said slowly, as if we were the ones who'd misheard. "Just one. On her porch. It was a really good gig, I figured she should know—"
"Why would you do that?" I said, stepping toward him.
"I don't know, maybe because you've been moping around like a rejected poet for three months?" he snapped, holding his hands up. "I didn't think she'd come."
"That wasn't your choice to make," I said, heat rising in my chest.
Sam shrugged, exasperated. "There were literally hundreds of flyers all over town. If she walked outside even once, she'd see one. Mine just... had better placement."
"Sam, Sebastian wasn't ready for that song to be heard — especially not by her," Abigail said, trying to keep the peace.
"You two are confusing," Sam grumbled, rubbing his face. "Are we supposed to pretend she doesn't exist? Or hope she shows up and fixes everything? Pick a side!"
Before I could answer — or yell — Alex returned, smiling obliviously with another beer in hand.
"And I'm back! Beer, anyone?" he asked brightly, walking right into the emotional landmine like a golden retriever with a death wish.
I rolled my eyes so hard I nearly gave myself a headache.
"Perfect timing," I muttered, tossing the cue down with a loud clack. I shouldered past Sam and walked out of the Saloon, the cool night air slapping me in the face like it knew I needed something to feel.
"What happened?" Alex asked behind me completely clueless. I ignored him and kept walking.
The cool air hit me. Fall is next week. It would have been one year with Hannah, instead it has been one long year without her.
I leaned against the wooden siding of the building and ran a hand through my hair, letting out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding since the show.
What was I doing?
I should've just stayed home. Should've shut the whole thing down when Sam brought up performing that song in the first place. Should've told him no harder. Louder. With more spine.
Instead, I let him drag my heart out onto a stage and light it on fire in front of a crowd — in front of her, maybe. If it was her. I'm still not sure. Maybe I imagined it. Maybe I wanted to see her so badly I conjured her up from memory like a ghost.
God, if I had seen her... why the hell did she leave? Why didn't she say anything?
A part of me wanted to be angry — really angry — like break-a-window kind of angry. But mostly, I just felt hollow. Like all the grief and guilt and love had settled into this dense, quiet ache in my chest, and now there wasn't room for much else.
The town whispers about her when I'm around, careful not to upset me. I try to pretend like I don't notice, I try to pretend like every song I listen to- or write- isn't about her. I feel like I lost my other half, which feels disgusting to say.
But I can't go on pretending. Hannah might be able to, but I can't.
7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡw120GtvCHI
