A Man Has Horns // Sebastian Sallow

Chapter 25 - Whatever You Would Like

A few hours had passed. My book was on the floor with an open spine. I had fallen asleep and felt my trousers being hot to the touch from being so close to the fireplace. I rubbed the side of my face that had been pressed against the cushioned wing of the armchair. 

"You sleep with your mouth open," Sebastian said to me mockingly but with kind eyes after he noticed my stirring. 

God, couldn't have been anything less attractive. I got embarrassed hoping I wasn't also snoring. 

"Did I snore?" I couldn't help but ask needing to know the truth.

"Sometimes you did one small snore," he tried not to smile, still looking down at his new book.

I rubbed my eyes with my hands both in embarrassment and in trying to wake up.

"What time is it?" I asked emerging from my hands and looking around the room.

"Almost dinner. I was about to wake you up in 10 minutes," he answered flicking to the next page. 

"What are you reading now?" I kept asking questions, feeling like I was becoming annoying. 

"It is..." Sebastian started answering by closing the book and looking at the tittle, "Alchemy. Ancient Art and Science by Argo Pyrets," Sebastian read out loud. "Needed it for a Numerency essay due in a few days."

I nodded. I didn't know what to say or do. 

I just intruded on him and had definitely overstayed my welcome. 

"I'll leave you to it," I stood up and decided it was best if I actually do take my leave. 

"You weren't bothering," Sebastian sat up. "But I understand you want to go," he said reserved. 

"Oh! It seemed you were being productive with your time," I said back, trying to suggest that I didn't particularly want to go.

"I'm really not," he answered back, closing his book and fiddled with its cover. 

I kept standing and he sitting, both waiting for the other to speak first.

I looked at him and he returned my gaze. 

I mustered to walk closer to him and sat on the desk by him. 

We sat like this for a while until I brought my hand to his face and he looked to me again. 

I gently placed my finger on his bruise under his eyes and traced it with the tips of my fingers. 

I thought about the Boathouse and I thought about Quidditch. 

I traced my fingers to the bruise between his nose and lip and then finally gently brushed his bottom lip before removing my hand. 

He was looking at me with solemn, shy but tender eyes. 

"I know you do not wish to have anything beyond a friendship," he replied looking back down at the desk from me.

I sighed looking myself down at the floor thinking about everything. I had told him I had feelings for him and he had told me the same. But the thought of us being romantic and intimate seemed foreign and strange. 

"Without decision making, could we just be? Could you be my friend and I yours?" I asked him, not wanting to lose him but unable to make a commitment.