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“Bullshit,” I offered politely.
Sebastian’s thick eyebrows contorted.
“We both know where this is coming from,” I told him. “And I don’t blame you. It was a shock what happened last night. But it’s you who chooses to look at it as your personal failing. I’m telling you, it’s not you.” I didn’t want to psychoanalyze him to his face. Not here and now. But his parents had never lifted him up, never let him fly on his own, and the result was a cripplingly low opinion of himself. On good days, Sebastian let his sense of humor shine, and he was friendly to everyone, and he laughed at everything. But not all days were good.
“You keep saying it and I keep telling you that you’re wrong,” Sebastian said.
“Oh yeah? Well, I know you better,” I insisted. “Remember when we were eight or nine, when you saw my old man sitting on the curb, head between his knees, leaning against the trash can? It was starting to rain.”
He frowned a little.
“You took his hand and basically dragged him inside the house. He told you to leave him alone. He said you were disturbing his peace. But you took him inside and put him on the sofa. And Dad then hugged the pillow and dozed off. You could have gone home after that. Hell, you could have listened to him and just given it up. Remember what you did?” I tilted the can and poured some beer into my mouth. It prickled my tongue and left a mildly bitter aftertaste.
Sebastian spoke after swallowing his sip. “I came to find you. God, you were angry. You were furious.”
I had been. Dad had mostly kept his lows private and indoors, but he hadn’t listened to me when I’d begged him to go inside. ‘I’m trash. And trash belongs on the street.’ I will never forget those words. So when Sebastian discovered just how bad it could get, all my pride was gone.
“You hugged me,” I said.
He took another sip, a small smile curling the corners of his mouth.
“Nobody ever hugged me like that,” I said. “You told me it was called…er, what was it?”
His eyebrows jumped playfully and he smiled for real. “Apapachar. It’s a Mexican Spanish word. We don’t have a word for it in English.”
“Yeah, but you told me,” I said.
He bit his lip and glanced at me. Our gazes met for an instant before he looked away. “Hugging with your soul.” His lip quivered as he set his beer on the floor.
I moved swiftly, setting my can out of the way and leaning forward. My arms were around him in such a steel grip that he couldn’t break out of it even if he tried. His head rested on my shoulder and my chest pressed hard against his. So hard that I nearly felt his heartbeat against mine. Or imagined it very clearly. My hands rested on his broad upper back and he surrendered to the hug. That was what it meant to hug with your soul. It meant to give all the comfort someone needed and more.
It wasn’t just limbs that twined and bodies that touched. It was the explosion of feelings that accompanied the hug.
Sebastian shuddered in my arms and I held him tighter.
The fingers of my left hand played with his thick curls as I ran my hand over the back of his head. “It’s not your fault,” I whispered. “It’s not your fault.” As my grip on him relaxed, he looked into my eyes. We were barely a few inches apart and the heat of his body wrapped me into a hold of its own.
“Do you mean it?” he whispered.
“I know it,” I said. “Screw them all. You’re the best person I know, Sebastian. It’s not fair, but you’ll get better.” It was a promise. And I would be there for every step along the way. He knew it.
When we pulled back a little further, we drained our cans in silence. He seemed a little less beaten and that made the drama with Courtney worth it. I hated to admit it, but this mattered more to me. Who am I kidding? I thought. I don’t hate admitting that.
When Sebastian got up and sat on the edge of his bed, he looked at me. “Do you want to sleep here again?” he asked shyly, taking me back to my memories again.
My heart leaped and I grinned. “Of course I want to.”
We dressed for bed, killed the lights, locked the door, and I slipped under his comforter. If I didn’t hug my friend for eight hours straight, were we even friends? He’d done the same for me.
The thing about Sebastian was that he ran hot. Like a private little furnace, he was an ideal bed companion for cold nights. Holding my left arm around him kept me warm and cozy all the while giving him the safety to sleep off the worst of his feelings. And when I woke up the next morning, we had turned around in the bed, and Sebastian was spooning me instead. His hand practically covered the side of my face and each breath he inhaled massaged my upper back gently.
I wished it wasn’t morning already. I just wanted to stay here and do nothing else.
FIVE
Sebastian
The final semester’s workload slammed me out of nowhere. It was a blessing from above. The swim-or-sink situation I found myself navigating meant I had to ignore everything that didn’t directly affect my end results. Even if it was my broken heart and bruised pride.
