Sebastian POV
The call from his sister, Judith, came on a bleak November afternoon, the kind where the grey Oxford sky seemed to press down with the weight of centuries. Sebastian was in his rooms, ostensibly preparing for a tutorial on Jacobean tragedy, but in reality, his thoughts were, as they so often were these days, consumed by Ethan, replaying their conversations, anticipating their next meeting. Judith's voice, usually brisk and no-nonsense, was strained, her words clipped like a poorly edited manuscript.
"Sebastian, it's Mother. She's had a fall. A bad one. She's in hospital."
A cold dread seeped into Sebastian's bones, instantly eclipsing the warm glow that Ethan's imagined presence usually provided. His mother, for all her rigidity and unspoken disapproval, was still his mother. He mumbled questions, his mind struggling to process the news – a broken hip, pneumonia setting in. The prognosis, Judith said grimly, was not good. Each word was a hammer blow.
"You need to come, Sebastian. Now." Her tone brooked no argument. "And bring Margaret. Father is… he's not coping well."
The journey north to Yorkshire was a blur of anxiety and a suffocating sense of filial duty. Margaret sat beside him in the train carriage, her silence a heavy blanket of unspoken resentments and anxieties of her own. She'd been even more distant than usual these past few weeks, her glances sharper, her sighs more pronounced, a wall of ice forming between them.
Sebastian, lost in his own emotional turmoil and his burgeoning feelings for Ethan, had barely registered it, or perhaps, had chosen not to. Now, her withdrawn presence was just another layer of misery, another cold front in the bleak landscape of his current reality.
The hospital was a sterile, impersonal place, smelling of disinfectant and fear. His mother looked small and fragile in the high bed, her face grey, her breathing shallow, each rasp a painful reminder of her frailty. His father, usually so stoic, so unbending, seemed to have shrunk, his eyes red-rimmed and lost, his usual composure shattered. The visit was a torment of hushed whispers, forced reassurances that tasted like ash in Sebastian's mouth, and the crushing weight of unspoken family history. His mother, even in her weakened state, managed a faint frown when she saw him, a silent reminder of all the ways he had, in her eyes, failed.
He returned to Oxford two days later, emotionally battered and exhausted, the scent of antiseptic clinging to his clothes. Margaret had stayed on in Yorkshire to "help out," a decision that brought Sebastian a complicated mix of relief and guilt. He felt hollowed out, the brief, fragile happiness he'd found with Ethan seeming like a distant, impossible dream. The old loneliness, the familiar sense of being fundamentally flawed and unlovable, had returned with a vengeance, settling in his chest like a cold stone.
He found Ethan waiting for him in the college gardens as dusk began to settle, the air crisp with the scent of fallen leaves. He'd sent a brief, almost incoherent message from the train, and Ethan had simply replied, "I'll be here."
Seeing him now, standing under the skeletal branches of an ancient oak, his dark coat collar turned up against the chill, his silhouette a steady presence against the fading light, sent a wave of desperate longing through Sebastian. Ethan's face, when he turned, was etched with a concern that seemed so genuine, so pure, that it brought an unexpected prickle of tears to Sebastian's eyes.
"Sebastian," Ethan said softly, his voice a balm to Sebastian's frayed nerves, his dark eyes searching Sebastian's face. "How are you? How is your mother?"
The carefully constructed dam of Sebastian's composure, already weakened by days of stress and grief, broke. Words tumbled out – his fear for his mother, his grief, the suffocating weight of his family's expectations, his own profound sense of inadequacy. He spoke of the hospital's sterile corridors, his father's brokenness, his mother's silent disapproval.
Ethan listened patiently, his gaze never wavering, his presence a steady, comforting anchor in the storm of Sebastian's emotions. He didn't interrupt, just nodded occasionally, his silence more comforting than any platitude could have been.
When Sebastian finally fell silent, his shoulders shaking with suppressed sobs, the raw emotion leaving him trembling, Ethan stepped closer. He didn't touch him, not yet, but his proximity was an embrace in itself, a shield against the chill of the evening and the deeper chill in Sebastian's soul.
"You carry so much, Sebastian," Ethan said, his voice filled with a tenderness that made Sebastian's heart ache. "Too much for any one person to bear alone."
And in that moment, looking into Ethan's compassionate eyes, feeling the warmth of his unwavering support radiate towards him, Sebastian knew. The emotion that had been building within him for weeks, the emotion he had been too afraid to name, crystallised into a certainty that was both terrifying and exhilarating. This is real. This feeling… it's undeniable.
"Ethan," he whispered, his voice hoarse, the name a prayer on his lips. "I… I think I'm in love with you."
The words hung in the twilight air, fragile and irrevocable. Sebastian's heart hammered against his ribs, a wild bird trapped in a cage. He had laid his soul bare, offered up his most vulnerable, secret self. He braced himself for rejection, for the polite, pitying smile, the gentle letting-down that would shatter him completely.
***
Ethan POV
Ethan watched Sebastian's confession unfold with a thrill of icy triumph. The mother's illness – an unexpected gift. It had rendered Sebastian utterly defenceless, raw with emotion, primed for exactly this kind of declaration. He had played his part to perfection: the concerned friend, the steadfast confidant. Every word of comfort, every sympathetic glance, had been a carefully calibrated move in this intricate game.
When Sebastian uttered those three, longed-for words, "I love you," Ethan had to consciously suppress a smile of satisfaction. Checkmate.
He allowed a look of profound, almost startled tenderness to soften his features. He stepped closer, finally bridging the small gap between them. He reached out, his fingers gently tracing the line of Sebastian's jaw, a touch designed to convey both intimacy and reassurance, his own heart rate remaining perfectly steady.
"Oh, Sebastian," he murmured, his voice a low caress, his eyes feigning an overwhelming surge of emotion that mirrored Sebastian's own.
Sebastian
Ethan's touch was electric, sending shivers down Sebastian's spine. The tenderness in his eyes, the soft wonder in his voice – it was more than Sebastian had dared to hope for. Could it be possible? Could this brilliant, beautiful young man feel something for him in return?
Overwhelmed by a maelstrom of hope, fear, and a desperate, aching love, Sebastian leaned in, his eyes fluttering closed as his lips met Ethan's. Their breath mingled, warm and sweet, as Sebastian's heart pounded wildly against his chest. The kiss was hesitant at first, a tentative exploration of soft, yielding lips. Then it deepened, fueled by a wave of pure, unadulterated emotion that washed over Sebastian.
It was a kiss of desperation and longing, of gratitude and a lifetime of pent-up desire. The taste of Ethan's lips was sweet and intoxicating, mingling with the faint scent of his cologne—a mix of spice and something uniquely Ethan. Sebastian's hands trembled as they found their way to Ethan's shoulders, gripping tightly as if afraid this moment would slip away like a dream. Ethan's response was controlled, but Sebastian could feel the heat rising between them, the faintest hint of a sigh escaping Ethan's lips.
Sebastian poured all his loneliness, all his secret yearnings, all his newfound, terrifying love into that single, shattering embrace. His senses were overwhelmed—the warmth of Ethan's body pressing closer, the texture of his clothes beneath Sebastian's fingertips, and the faint rasp of their breaths mingling in the charged air.
Ethan's hands, initially hesitant, now slid down Sebastian's back, pulling him closer. The warmth of Ethan's palms seemed to seep through the fabric of Sebastian's shirt, igniting a trail of fire along his skin. The touch was electric, each finger tracing a path that sent shivers cascading down Sebastian's spine like a gentle current. Sebastian's breath caught in his throat as he felt the strength and certainty in Ethan's touch. His muscles tensed momentarily, then melted into the embrace, surrendering to the overwhelming sensation of being so intimately close.
Sebastian was a whirlwind of emotions. There was excitement, a thrill that shot through him at the realization that Ethan was holding him so tightly. But beneath that excitement was a deeper, more profound sense of vulnerability. He felt exposed, yet safe—a paradox that only intensified his emotions. As their bodies pressed closer, Sebastian could feel the steady rhythm of Ethan's heartbeat against his own chest, a synchrony that felt both comforting and intoxicating.
In that moment, Sebastian was oblivious to the cool calculation behind Ethan's response. For him, this kiss was a revelation, a release of all the emotions he had kept locked away for so long. It was a promise, a hope, a beginning—all wrapped up in the tender yet passionate embrace of the man he loved.
When they finally broke apart, breathless, the twilight had deepened, and the first stars were pricking the darkening sky like scattered diamonds. Sebastian felt dazed, reborn. The world looked different, sharper, more vibrant. He looked at Ethan, his eyes shining with unshed tears, his heart overflowing.
"Ethan," he breathed, his voice trembling.
Ethan smiled, a slow, gentle smile that seemed to encompass all the warmth and acceptance Sebastian had ever craved. He took Sebastian's hand, his fingers lacing through Sebastian's own, a gesture of possession disguised as affection.
"This changes everything, doesn't it?" Ethan said softly, his gaze holding Sebastian's.
"Yes," Sebastian whispered, his voice filled with awe and a dawning, incredulous joy. "Yes, it does." He felt liberated, terrified, and ecstatic, all at once. He had stepped off a precipice, and instead of falling, he felt as if he had finally, finally learnt to fly.
***
Ethan POV
Ethan held Sebastian's gaze, his expression one of perfect, loving reciprocity. Inside, he was cold, calculating, a quiet thrill tightening his chest. The hook is set. Irrevocably. He briefly recalled their first encounter—the soft murmur of conversation and clinking glasses filling the wood-paneled room at St. Aldric's during the English Literature faculty introduction mixer. Sebastian had stood out immediately, earnest eyes and guarded curiosity marking him as the perfect target.
The kiss had been a necessary step, a sealing of the emotional bond Ethan had so meticulously crafted. Sebastian's breath lingered on his lips, warm and trusting. Sebastian's complete and utter devotion was now assured.
"Everything," Ethan echoed, his voice infused with carefully manufactured tenderness. He gently squeezed Sebastian's hand, feeling the steady pulse beneath the skin—fragile, vulnerable, completely within his grasp.
The Professor was his. Utterly and completely. And the game was just beginning.