5 - The Visitor

Ezra was on his knees in the hallway, scrubbing dried juice out of the floorboards with a toothbrush that definitely didn’t belong to him, when the knock came.

He didn’t move at first.

The twins were in the living room, wrestling over a remote that didn’t work, the TV blaring static like it was channeling some ancient curse.

Mia had taken up silent residence on the front porch with her hoodie drawn up and earbuds jammed in like emotional earplugs. Somewhere upstairs, the toilet made a gurgling sound that implied vengeance.

Then the knock came again. Firmer.

Ezra exhaled through his nose, wiped his hand on a dishtowel, and got up slow, like gravity had learned his name.

He opened the door.

Sebastian stood on the porch, framed by the late afternoon sun and the faint glimmer of lavender in the warm air. Not flowers—him. Ezra caught the scent before anything else, soft and floral with a touch of warmth, like the inside of a greenhouse right after a storm. It hit something in his chest, low and immediate.

Sebastian looked as polished as he smelled—light tan pants, a lavender button-down shirt, and those dewy dark curls that made it impossible to look anywhere else for too long. He looked like he lived in a world where everything matched and nothing ever broke. Ezra almost hated him for it.

“You again,” Ezra muttered, blinking as if trying to reset his senses.

Sebastian gave a small, uncertain smile. “Hi. Sorry to just show up—I got the address from the children’s home. They said it was alright. I just wanted to see how they’re doing.”

Before Ezra could reply, a scream rang out behind him.

“GET OFF ME, CAMDEN! YOU’RE SITTING ON MY FACE!”

“YOU SAID PILLOW FIGHTS WERE FUN!”

The door burst open behind him and both twins shot out barefoot, one trailing glitter, the other brandishing string cheese like a sacred sword.

“Sebby!” Camden screeched, skidding to a stop.

Caleb slammed into Ezra’s thigh and bounced off. “You didn’t tell us you were coming!”

Sebastian crouched just in time, arms open wide. The twins barreled into him, and Ezra couldn’t help but notice the way Sebastian folded around them—instinctive, soft, safe. And that scent—lavender and warmth—grew stronger in the humid air, making Ezra’s skin prickle.

“Surprise,” Sebastian murmured, pressing a kiss to Camden’s messy curls. “You two still causing trouble?”

“We haven’t broken anything important,” Caleb declared proudly.

Ezra muttered, “Debatable.”

Sebastian rose slowly, one hand still resting on Camden’s back. He glanced toward the porch where Mia stood, earbuds still in, hoodie up, but watching.

“Hey, Mia,” he said gently.

She gave a stiff nod. “Hi.”

No smile. But her shoulders weren’t as tense.

Sebastian looked back to Ezra, who stood braced in the doorway, scent spiked slightly with stress—spice and something heavier, like earth cracked under heat. Sebastian inhaled it involuntarily, felt it all the way down his spine.

“So,” he asked carefully, “are visitors allowed?”

Ezra stepped back with a sigh. “You might regret it.”

Sebastian smiled faintly. “I’m an Omega who works with kids. I specialize in regret.”

Inside, the house was marginally improved since his last visit—less cardboard, more laundry. A makeshift schedule drooped from the fridge like it had already accepted its fate. Marker drawings graced the walls like murals of battle: a dinosaur devouring what might’ve once been a house.

Sebastian paused in the living room and took a breath. Sandalwood hit him next—sandalwood and spice and something smoky underneath, like Ezra had been carved from forest fire and kept burning. It tugged at something deep and old in his chest, and he nearly forgot how to stand still.

“This place has good bones,” Sebastian said.

Ezra dropped into a chair with a groan. “It has loud bones. And haunted ones.”

The twins were back on the couch, arguing over a show about magical frogs. Sebastian took the seat beside Ezra without asking, their proximity brushing close, scent currents curling between them in lazy spirals.

“You look like hell,” Sebastian said gently.

Ezra snorted. “Thanks. I’m on the no-sleep-and-too-much-coffee diet.”

Sebastian glanced around—cereal under the table, socks on the chandelier, the faint thrum of Mia’s music. He didn’t speak until his eyes drifted back to Ezra’s profile.

“How’s it really going?”

Ezra rubbed a hand down his face. “Like I walked into a life I wasn’t meant to live. Megan’s gone. The kids are...they’re amazing, but it’s like she’s in every room, every drawer. I keep wondering what she’d do, how she’d handle it better.”

Sebastian nodded slowly. “She’d struggle, too. Even people who plan for this fall apart sometimes.”

Ezra’s voice dropped. “I didn’t plan any of this.”

“I know,” Sebastian said. “But that doesn’t mean you’re not the one they need.”

Ezra turned toward him, brows furrowed. “You don’t even know me.”

Sebastian’s eyes didn’t waver. “I’ve spent time with them. I’ve heard them talk about you. Especially Mia. She pretends she doesn’t care, but when she heard your name? She stopped fighting. For a minute, she just... listened.”

Ezra let that sink in.

“She hasn’t smiled once.”

“She will,” Sebastian promised. “She’s just trying to figure out where her new place is. You’re all learning how to be something new.”

Ezra leaned back, jaw clenched.

“I keep thinking... someone else should’ve taken them. Someone better.”

“They don’t want better,” Sebastian said softly. “They want you.”

Ezra turned his head, and their eyes met again. The air between them tightened—sandalwood and lavender colliding, drawing each other in like tides. Ezra’s pupils darkened slightly, and Sebastian had to resist the instinct to lean closer, to breathe him in fully.

“So,” Ezra said after a pause, voice low, “you just checking in? Or is this the part where you offer to save me from drowning in glitter and shame?”

Sebastian’s mouth lifted. “Not quite. But I am offering help. A few afternoons a week. I can give the kids consistency. Give you space to think. Maybe even shower alone.”

Ezra exhaled, almost a laugh. “That’s a fantasy.”

“I’m serious,” Sebastian said, brushing a hand through his curls. “I want to help. I meant what I said—I care about them."

Ezra looked down at his cracked knuckles.

Then, slowly, he nodded. “Yeah. Okay. I could use the help.”

A crash came from the kitchen.

“CALEB!” Mia shrieked. “WHY IS THERE FLOUR IN THE SINK?!”

“It’s for science!”

“YOU’RE FOR SCIENCE!”

Sebastian stood with a sigh, adjusting his sleeves. Ezra rose beside him, brushing a fleck of juice off his shirt.

“Guess we’re starting now?” Sebastian asked, voice bright.

“I’ll grab the mop,” Ezra replied. “You grab the scientist.”

“Copy that.”

They walked into the kitchen together—toward flour, toward noise, and into something neither of them had words for yet. But both of them knew how it smelled.

Like home. Even now.