LET IT UNFOLD - [P + MUDDLY]

SEBASTIAN.


It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t his fault.

He didn’t know. This couldn’t have been his intention. He just wanted to save him.

He just wanted to help. He just wanted to help.

-

A thick layer of snow had been spread across the ground early that morning, leaving the pavement wet by nightfall. This was his favorite time of night to walk. When all the people were asleep in their beds, he could wander through the small town freely with arms spread wide and mouth forever locked into a bright smile.

Today had been a nice day. She’d woken up early to make him his favorite breakfast and he had hugged her tightly and whispered how thankful he was and much he loved her before slipping out the door to play with his friends at the park. He knew deep down that she worried about him sometimes, but he made sure to not give her a reason to. The more she worried for him, the more he worried for her. It was a never ending cycle, but they held each other together.

Now it was his turn to repay her kindness. The twenty-fifth was approaching quickly; he could practically smell it. Holidays had a particular smell to them, and nobody could convince him it wasn’t true. Christmas, for example, smelled like a fireplace burning and cookies in the oven. It was a time where everything slowed down. He would get out of school for a few weeks and waste his time staring out the window at the buildup of snow. His eyes would light up on Christmas morning as they locked onto the gifts he’d been given. But he didn’t care much for the gifts. He cared more about the giving.

That’s what he was going to do this year. He was going to give.

Three months of picking coins up from the cobblestones and feeding the neighbor’s hens later, he had enough. Fifty-three dollars and eighteen cents. He’d buy her a candle and maybe make a bracelet out of ribbon, but that didn’t matter much to him. He had a better gift in mind; a leather-bound book sitting idly in the window of the quaint little bookstore on Fourteenth Street, just waiting for him to wrap up and present to her on Christmas morning.

They’d passed by the store on the way to school back in October, and she had lingered an extra moment at a particular window, slowly running her fingertips along the glass before clearing her throat. He had never been so determined before.
And now he had it. His goal was finally achieved. After writing a note to put inside the cover, he asked the shopkeeper to wrap the present in red wrapping paper and tie it with a green bow. His request was met with a warm smile, and he bound his arms tightly around the scarlet box as he made his way down the street.

Everything was going perfectly.

Until he heard gunshots followed by the desperate scream of an all-too-familiar voice.

All thoughts of getting home fled his mind as he followed the echoes. He couldn’t ignore this; not when his friend’s life could be on the line.

Skidding to a stop, he sees him, hands locked in a death grip around a gun. “Nuc,” the boy calls, eyes trailing from the bloody stones to the Atlantean’s face, “what did you do?”

The reply he received was a warning. A broken “Sebastian, watch out!” meant to save him from his fate.

What happened next happened swiftly. A tall man with dark eyes emerged from the shadows, clamping a large hand around Sebastian’s mouth. The boy called Nuc yelled something unintelligible, lifting his gun and aiming it at the attacker. He fired three times. Two hit their target; the waist and leg of the man. The other didn’t. Instead, it had been planted firmly in the chest of Sebastian, opening the floodgates of blood to seep through his shirt and run down his stomach.

He fell slowly, but his arms never loosened their grip on the gift he’d held dearly. The bullet grazed the packaging before it met the boy’s skin, but he never let go. He simply couldn’t let go.

Nuclayus had done nothing. He didn’t call out. He didn’t help him stand. He didn’t mourn. He watched as his friend hit the ground. And then he ran. He ran faster than he ever had before, and he didn’t look back.

He couldn’t look back; it’d simply hurt too much.

Notes: I didn't know if you wanted to roleplay anything else in this flashback thing so please tell me if that is the case so I can edit my post a bit.