My hand trembled as I reached for the phone on the side table. The world felt too quiet, too empty. My chest hurt, my lungs couldn't draw air properly, and my heart wouldn't stop screaming. The tears were still coming, hot and uncontrollable, dripping down my chin and soaking the sheets.

I unlocked the screen, scrolled through my contacts until my blurred vision landed on a single name. Belle.

My thumb hovered over the call button for a long moment. I didn't even know why I was calling her. I didn't have words, just the unbearable weight in my chest, the kind that felt like it might cave in my ribs and crush whatever was left inside me.

I pressed call.

The phone rang. Once. Twice. Then—

"Sebastian?" Her voice was soft, worried, a little breathless. "What's wrong?"

I opened my mouth… but nothing came out. The air caught in my throat like a knife. I could only breathe, ragged and uneven, the sound ugly in the silence.

"Sebastian?" she said again, more urgently this time. "Are you there?"

Still, no answer.

All I could do was sit there, the tears falling faster, my shoulders shaking. I wanted to say I'm sorry, or I don't know what's happening, or even please stay, but every word stuck somewhere deep in my chest, choking me.

A pause. A soft sigh.

Then click.

The line went dead.

The sound of the disconnection tone echoed in my ears far longer than it should have. My hand went limp. The phone slid from my fingers, hit the floor with a dull thud, and bounced once before disappearing beneath the bed.

For a moment, I just sat there staring at the ceiling, tears still pouring, until a quiet laugh slipped out.

A small, broken, self-mocking laugh.

"Of course," I whispered hoarsely. "Of course she left. Why wouldn't she?"

It wasn't even her fault. It was never their fault. It was mine. It always was.

People didn't stay with me. They never did.

They left when I got angry. They left when I got quiet. They left when I started breaking. They all left, one after another, like it was some kind of universal rule.

And every time, I told myself I didn't care. That I didn't need them.

But the truth was, I did.

I always did.

The tears burned my eyes again, but this time there was anger behind them raw and ugly. I hated myself for calling her, for hoping that maybe she'd stay on the line, that maybe someone would care enough to listen while I fell apart.

"Pathetic," I muttered under my breath, voice cracking. "Can't even keep it together for one night."

I tried to stand, to do something, anything to escape the crushing emptiness in the room, but my knees gave out. I stumbled, slipped off the edge of the bed, and began to fall.

My body braced for the hit—

—but it never came.

Instead, warmth. Arms.

A faint scent of ink and hyacinth filled the air.

"Sebastian…"

Her voice.

I blinked through the blur, my vision swimming, and saw her, Belle. Her long black hair brushed my cheek as she held me close, trembling slightly but firm.

For a moment, I didn't understand. I thought I was hallucinating. That maybe this was some cruel dream conjured by guilt.

"I came as soon as I hung up," she whispered, voice breaking. "You scared me."

I couldn't speak. My throat closed again. All that came out was a shuddering breath.

Belle pulled me closer, pressing my head against her chest. Her heartbeat was fast, frantic. "You don't get to cry alone, idiot," she said softly, her tone trying for calm but cracking halfway through. "Not while I'm still here."

Something in me broke again, but this time it wasn't pain. It was the faint, distant ache of relief.

My hands clutched at her shirt, desperate, terrified she might vanish if I let go.

For a while, neither of us said anything.

And in that quiet, for the first time in what felt like years, I realized someone had come back.

Belle helped me sit back up, her hands steady against my shoulders. My body still felt like lead, every breath heavy, every heartbeat echoing through the hollow space in my chest. She adjusted the pillows behind me, brushing stray strands of hair away from my forehead with surprising gentleness.

"There," she murmured softly, straightening up. "You should lie back and rest a little—"

But before she could move away, I reached out and grabbed her wrist.

Not roughly, just tight enough that she couldn't leave. My hand trembled against her skin, and my voice came out small, cracked, barely more than a whisper.

"Stay."

Belle froze. For a moment, she just stared at me black hair shadowing her expression, her blindfold catching a faint gleam of moonlight from the infirmary window. Then, wordlessly, she sat back down beside me.

When I didn't let go of her arm, she sighed softly. "You're hopeless," she whispered.

And then she pulled me closer.

My forehead pressed against her chest warm, soft, steady. Her scent surrounded me again, ink and hyacinth, sharp and calming all at once. I could feel her heartbeat beneath my ear, quick but constant, and for some reason, that sound and her scent alone made the tears start again.

I tried to stop them. I really did. But they just kept falling, hot trails cutting down my cheeks. My chest heaved in uneven breaths, a quiet, broken mess that I didn't even have the strength to hide anymore.

Belle didn't say anything. She didn't scold me, didn't tell me to stop crying, didn't try to fix anything. She just wrapped her arms around my shoulders and held me tighter, one hand brushing through my hair in slow, steady motions.

The world outside was silent, just the faint hum of the lights, the soft rhythm of her heartbeat, and my quiet, exhausted sobs.

Time blurred. I didn't know how long we stayed like that minutes, hours, maybe longer. But the weight in my chest slowly eased. The ache dulled, the shaking stopped, and the sound of her heartbeat grew softer, slower, like a lullaby.

My eyes grew heavy. My breathing steadied.

The last thing I felt before sleep took me was Belle's hand still in my hair, her quiet voice murmuring something I couldn't quite make out.

And for the first time in a long, long while… I didn't dream of pain.

Just warmth.

Her warmth.

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