Chapter 7 AIDEN'S POV

The hours after a party you've thrown are always the worst.

The music was gone, the lights off, and all left were empty cups scattered on the counters.

The smell of spilled alcohol lingered in the air. Pieces of conversations and laughter still clinging to the walls.

A few stragglers stumbled towards the door-barefoot, missing jackets, half-drunk goodbyes.

I stepped out into the backyard, scanning the shadows to see if anyone was still lingering. The grass was damp with dew, and the silence after the party felt almost too quiet.

Footsteps crunched softly beside me-measured, familiar.

Sebastian.

"You scared me, man," I said, giving him a light push on the arm, more instinct than thought. "I figured you left. After Noah."

He didn't smile. Just looked out across the empty yard, jaw tense.

"Yeah. I came back to get my phone," he said. "But then I saw you come out here looking like someone dropped your soul on the floor."

I let out a quiet laugh, though it didn't quite reach my chest. "Yeah, well. Kinda feels that way."

He glanced at me then, sharp and careful. "She ran off pretty fast."

"Yeah," I said, rubbing a hand across the part of my neck she had bitten.

His silence was telling. Sebastian always knew more than he said-but tonight, it was like he was trying to choose what not to say.

"Did she..." He paused. "Do something?"

"No," I said finally, voice low. "Ash got in her face. Provoked her. She just... reacted."

I shifted my weight, suddenly uneasy.

Then I saw it.

A streak of red just below his collar-fresh, and definitely blood.

He followed my gaze, then casually tugged his jacket tighter, as if that would make it disappear.

"Had a nosebleed," he said, too casually. "Should've known better than to mix shots on an empty stomach."

I didn't say anything. The excuse hung there-thin, obvious. And wrong.

His eyes flicked back to mine. Calm. Measured. Like he was waiting to see what I'd do with the lie.

But I just nodded once, slow. "Right."

A pause stretched between us.

"You sticking around tonight?" I asked, keeping my tone light.

He shrugged, gaze drifting toward the house. "Maybe. Depends."

"On what?"

His mouth lifted in a half-smile that didn't reach his eyes. "On whether there's anything left worth staying for."

Something in his tone made the back of my neck prickle. I wasn't sure if he meant the party-or something else.

I looked toward the house, lights were still flickering.

"Fair enough," I muttered.

Then he gave me a quick, unreadable look. "You should get some sleep. You look like hell."

I let out a dry laugh. "Appreciate the honesty."

He turned to leave but hesitated. "You should patch things up with Evie. Wouldn't want you finding time for someone else."

I blinked. The words hung heavy in the air, sharper than they sounded.

Before I could respond, he was already walking away-cool, calm, like he hadn't just dropped a loaded sentence and left me with it.

Sebastian was the kind of friend who'd been to your place a hundred times, but you still didn't know where he lived. Like he existed in a space just outside reach-close enough to show up when it mattered, but distant enough to keep his secrets locked tight.

I watched his retreating figure for a moment, then turned back toward the fading noise of the house, wondering how much more I didn't know about him.

He had always been a weird guy.

Once I was certain the last of the stragglers had left, I locked the doors, the quiet settling around me like a weight.

I headed upstairs to the guest room to check on Evie. I had laid her there after she blacked out-now she was sleeping comfortably like she hadn't almost caused a scene.

I didn't blame her for drifting away-or even for cheating. Honestly, If I were in her place, I might've done the same.

We'd been together since freshman year before I ended things with her.

I started pulling away after I found out about the brain tumor. I couldn't let her see the cracks spreading inside me. Better for her to forget me now than watch me fall apart later.

The doctors called it a glioma-aggressive, late-stage. One of those diagnoses that doesn't come with hope, just timelines and pain management.

They sat us down, looked us in the eye, and said my days were numbered. Not in years. Maybe not even in months.

"It varies," they said, like that made it better.

They gave me the usual-meds to control the swelling, steroids to keep the pain down, and endless appointments that made me feel less like a person and more like a case.

For a moment I thought the diagnosis might pull my parents in-make them stay home more, maybe sit with me, talk to me like time actually mattered.

Instead, they traveled more. Longer trips, more flights. Staying gone was easier than facing what was coming.

So I made a choice-to live, however briefly.

No more pretending. No more caution. Just reckless moves and louder nights.

I started throwing parties. Filling the silence with music, people, and distraction.

If time was running out, I wanted to burn through it.

Even if it meant crossing lines I shouldn't.

And then I met her. Noah.

Those eyes did something to me. Beautiful but looked like they belonged in the chaos I was creating.

Wild in a way that didn't scream for attention, but pulled it anyway.

Maybe that's what caught me.

For the first time, I wasn't the one dragging someone into the fire-She walked right in on her own as if she belonged there.

There was something about her, something familiar, like Sebastian, but I couldn't quite place it.

I headed to my room and finally took my pills for the night.

Standing in front of the mirror, I caught sight of the mark she left on my neck-a dark, stubborn hickey.

I touched it lightly, half-smiling, half-aching, and wondered how much there was to unlock about her.

What stories lay behind those wild eyes? How much of her was as reckless as tonight, and how much was carefully guarded, waiting to be uncovered?

I wanted to be part of it.

All of it.

Some people burn everything they touch.

But Noah? She made me feel like maybe, just maybe, the fire was worth it.