do i not bleed too;

He leaned back on his heels as she pushed him back, her weak touch barely registering on his skin. His shock slowly faded to something akin to mild annoyance as she leaned in close and threatened him in his own home. He should have known, truly, and it was a waste to try to argue with her, even if she was being ridiculous.

He waited a beat as she told him to leave, hands on his knees and various emotions gripping at his chest. Despite the way just thinking about standing made him dizzy, he knew he couldn’t linger. He wasn’t supposed to know her. He wasn’t supposed to care.

Sebastien offered no more than a huff under his breath as he pushed himself to his feet, running a shaky hand through his hair as he turned away. His steps carried him to what was supposed to be something of a kitchen, but was truly only a counter with a few drawers and, well, hardly any food…

He managed to put together a glass of water and a few slices of bread that were probably stale by now- but he believed that she wasn’t in the position to complain and if she did, well, he wasn’t interested in hearing it. He paused only to scoop up an open bottle of whatever it was he had left out, weighing it in his hand before committing it to his palm.

When he returned, he set the water and bread down on the table beside her, easily reachable. The bottle, he kept for himself. He knew he would need it.

“I'm not going to leave. This is where I live,” He said flatly, though there was a way he had to keep his voice from breaking. No amount of frustration could keep down the bubbling worry. “Eat something at least. Please.”

He stepped back then, slumping down into a worn armchair with a sigh as he brought the bottle to his lips (whiskey, he noted, only unfinished because it was the one he didn’t like, just his luck). And when his gaze shifted back to her again, he felt his heart break a little more at the sight of it all. 

He’d only asked her to be careful.