It takes a bit for him to calm down, but eventually he does. He's still hurt, he still wants to cry and cry and never stop, but he pulls himself together. He noticed that his head felt a little wet, and that Annabelle was crying. For him. In some fucked up way, he enjoyed it. He loved it with every fiber of his being. It was fucking insane.
She loosened her grip on him, pulling away so she could look in his eyes. "Are you ready for me to know your name, love?" She held him so gently. He never wanted her to let go.
With only a slight bit of hesitation this time, he spit it out. "... Sebastian. I'm Sebastian." He whispered, going in and hugging her right after he states it.
She gasps quietly, hugging him back tighter than before, and he hears her begin to cry. "Sebastian!" She says it with more love than he's ever known. "Sebastian, my love! My daring, my everything for the rest of time!" She hiccups, combing her hand through his hair and burying her nose in it. "Yes, yes yes! Everything I will ever need in life… Sebastian."
It feels so nice to be loved in a fucked up way. It also feels nice to be pressing his head against her breasts. Like, really nice. Too much for a normal human to be feeling. But, then again, he's in a lot of pain, and his hormones are probably off the charts, so he's gonna give himself the benefit of the doubt.
"Hey, uh…" he doesn't really know why he's hesitant to ask. Annabelle said she would give him everything he ever needed. "Can I have some uh… some more pain meds. Cause this shit hurts like a bitch."
She proceeds to laugh, almost manically, before sitting up, still giggling. "Sorry, sorry, I shouldn't laugh, it's just…" she gives him a look of absolute adoration, yet also longing. "It was a little bit funny," she mumbles as she stands up and walks out of the room.
Sebastian can hear her walking through the house, the soft tap tap tap and the occasional creak when she takes a step, not caring about the sound she makes. He doesn't understand the look she gave him. Why was there almost a sense of longing?
— — —
Annabelle's first thought when she leaves the room is Oh fuck, I want to fuck this man to the moon and back. And by god, does she love that thought. The thought of being able to freely fuck him whenever she likes? A dream came true. But she also knows that Sebastian– god, if that name isn't just him– is hesitant, doesn't fully trust her yet. Hasn't submitted.
She wants to love him with every piece of her, she told him she would do anything for him. She doesn't think she means it fully though, and that hurts her more than she ever thought some stupid feelings could ever hurt her.
She was moving on autopilot, but she suddenly stopped, tears filling her eyes for probably the millionth time in the past few days she had seen her lover. And she sobs. Her knees buckle and she sits on the floor, covering her mouth with her sleeve and sobbing her heart out.
— — —
Sebastian hears the footsteps stop for a moment, before hearing a small thump and almost silence. Almost. He could tell there was some kind of desperate noise, but he couldn't tell what it was.
He sat up slowly, gut clenching painfully as he did so. He lets out a soft grunt, then a few more louder ones, but makes his way to a standing position. It fucking hurts to hell and back, but he has to get up. For Annabelle.
He slowly shuffles his way through the doorway, looking around the hall. He hasn't seen it in broad daylight before, but… it was a sight.
More pictures lined the walls, filled with a figure in a grey hoodie standing over the dead bodies of strangers. Some paintings pictured the murderer– at least he presumed it was the murderer– standing over the body in the house he was in. Some pictured the woods that surrounded the house. Some even pictured alleyways in some random city he couldn't identify by just glancing.
But he didn't have time to analyze the pictures now, he needed to get to Annabelle and see if she was okay. It's such an odd thought, to check up on the person that almost murdered him and decided to back out at the last second. He wouldn't be alive without her. He also would probably be dead if she didn't back out.
He scuddles his way down the stairs, pain coursing through his gut sharp, but he had to keep moving. As he walked through the house, absorbing it all– making a mental note that absolutely zero rooms had doors on them– he could hear the sounds of desperation better. And he realized it was crying. Intense crying.
He dragged his tired body towards Annabelle, finding her curled up on the ground, sobbing harshly.
Sebastian felt a pain shoot through his chest, but it wasn't because of the wound this time, it was seeing the fucked up girl he's started to fall in love with. She lay on the ground over her knees, one hand covering her mouth and the other over her head, gripping her hair and pulling hard.
She looked up as he entered, tears rushing down her face as she hiccuped, trying to stop the violent cries leaving her mouth.
He rushes, as fast as his wounded body can, over to her curled up form. He gets down to his knees slowly, grunting loudly as he gets down. But, once he is, he places a hand on her back, hoping it will help calm her down.
Instead, she cries somehow even harder, wails leaving her body and making her voice crack pitifully. He wanted to take her pain away, to take it out of her chest and put it into his own, so she never had to feel the way she does then and there. He slowly takes the hand pulling her hair into his own, squeezing it tight and letting her hold onto him for dear life, like if he leaves it will kill her.
"Annabelle…" he whispers sympathetically. "You need to breathe, you're hyperventilating…" he tries to put his free arm under her so he can pull her up, but she doesn't budge, and he's too weak to do anything about it. "Annabelle, please. If you don't start breathing properly, I think you're going to pass out, and I'm gonna be real, I'm not sure how to help you if that happens."
But his words don't work, and she keeps wailing into the open air around them. She's still covering her mouth, but even then she's loud, desperate, heartbreaking to anyone that would hear, and Sebastian didn't know what to do to help. He was never good at dealing with his own feelings, let alone anyone else's. So he puts his free hand on her back and rubs in circles, putting pressure then releasing it the next round, thinking that maybe it would help her regulate.
She finally takes a few gasping breaths between sobs and wails, bubbling incomprehensible words into her sleeves. A large puddle of tears has soaked into the sleeve of her sweatshirt, growing and growing as she isn't able to stop herself from crying. Hearing her cries hurts Sebastian, but it also makes him feel some other way he doesn't want to think about. Some fucked up way he isn't ready to face.
She continues to sob, her gasping breaths becoming more frequent as she tries to calm herself down, but just as she does, they start up all over again, just as frequent and violent as the times before. All Sebastian can do is sit there, be there for her and hope that she tells him about whatever is hurting her. Maybe then he can try and help, try and take her pain away and put it into a bottle in his chest, locked up never to be seen again.
He keeps whispering words of encouragement to her, telling her to take more deep breaths and try to focus on his voice, doing things for her he wished someone would have done for him.