Rosie leaned forward, voice breaking. "Sebastian?"
A grumble came from him, followed by a tiny cough.
Minutes passed. Then his eyes fluttered open.
This time there was no panic. No clawing. Just a slow, heavy blink as he tried to focus on the faces hovering above him.
His gaze landed on his mother.
"Mom?"
The word came out barely louder than a whisper, shredded from the tube they'd pulled hours ago.
But it was enough.
She let out a sob and lunged forward, mask still stretched across her face, gathering him into her arms as carefully as she could manage with the wires and monitors still attached. "Oh thank god. My baby."
Sebastian winced but didn't pull away. His hand came up—slow, trembling—and rested against her back.
"I'm okay, Mom."
"It's nice to see you again," Damien's voice came from behind me, thick with emotion.
Sebastian smiled. "I owe you an—"
His mother cut him off, hands fluttering over his face like she needed to touch every inch of him to believe he was real. "How do you feel? Are you in pain? Do you need the nurse? I can get the nurse—"
"I'm okay," he repeated, voice still raw. A ghost of a smile tugged at his cracked lips. "Throat hurts. Head's foggy." He paused, brow furrowing like he was trying to piece something together. "I had the strangest dream."
Damien stepped closer, hand gripping the bed rail. "What kind of dream?"
Sebastian's gaze drifted—unfocused, searching the room.
"An angel came to see me." His voice was barely a rasp now.
"She had the prettiest voice," he murmured, eyes still scanning.
His eyes found mine. And stayed.
"Who are you?"
I stopped breathing.
"That's Candace, Emma's friend," Damien explained.
His brother turned, searching his face.
"Emma?" His brow furrowed. "I… don't—"
A low chuckle from Damien. "My girlfriend."
"Girlfriend?" Sebastian's tired eyes widened by a millimeter.
Damien nodded. Sebastian closed his eyes. "Good for you, man."
"I'm glad you're okay," I said quietly.
His eyes flew wide.
