All Chapters of Own You.: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Damian didn't remember getting dressed.One moment he was lying on Sebastian's chest, Sebastian's hand frozen on his scar, the words I love you still hanging in the air like smoke. The next moment he was pulling on his hoodie, his sweatpants, his shoes—his bandaged feet screaming in protest—and stumbling toward the door."Damian." Sebastian's voice was raw. "Damian, wait."Damian didn't wait.He yanked open the apartment door and ran. Down the hallway, past the elevator, down the stairs—he couldn't stand being in a small metal box right now—through the lobby, out into the cold morning air. The sky was gray, the streets empty, his breath fogging in front of his face.He didn't have his car. Sebastian had driven them. He didn't have his wallet. It was in his other jeans, back in Sebastian's bedroom.He didn't care.He walked. Block after block, his feet throbbing, his chest heaving. The bandages soaked through with melted snow and fresh blood. His hoodie wasn't warm enough. His hands we

The police officer had kind eyes. Damian noticed that first. Kind eyes and a tired face and a notebook that looked like it had been through a war. She stood in his apartment doorway, her partner behind her, both of them trying to make sense of the scene: an old man with a red face leaning against the stairwell railing, a younger man in hockey gear holding a baseball bat, and Damian himself, barefoot, bandages bleeding through his socks, looking like he hadn't slept in a year."Someone want to tell me what happened?" the officer asked.Damian's father spoke first. "They attacked me. Both of them. That one—" He pointed at Sebastian. "—came at me with a bat. My son held me down. I'm an old man. I couldn't fight back."Sebastian's grip on the bat tightened. His knuckles were white. His jaw was clenched so hard Damian could see the muscle jumping under his skin."That's not what happened," Damian said.His father's eyes narrowed. "You're going to lie to the police? To protect your—your fri

The woman standing in the doorway was maybe five feet tall, maybe a hundred and twenty pounds, and carried herself like she owned the entire building. Her dark eyes—Sebastian's eyes, the same shape, the same intensity—swept over the apartment behind them, taking in the burned pot on the stove, the blankets on the floor, the general air of two men who had been hiding from the world for twenty-four hours."Jesus Christ, Sebastian," she said, pushing past him into the apartment. "It smells like a dumpster fire in here. Did you try to cook?"Sebastian closed the door slowly. His face was doing something complicated—surprise, relief, fear, all of them fighting for space."Mom," he said. "What are you doing here?""I saw the news." She set her grocery bag on the counter and started pulling things out. Bread. Butter. A container of soup. A bag of apples. "You think I was going to stay in Florida while my son's face is all over the internet?""You live in Florida now?""Since last year. I tol

The diary sat on the shelf between a dusty hockey trophy and a stack of unpaid bills. Damian stared at it like it might bite him. Sebastian stood across the room, his back against the wall, his arms wrapped around himself like he was trying to hold his own body together.The silence between them was heavy enough to crush bones."You engineered our rivalry," Damian said finally. His voice was quiet. Not angry. Just tired. "The hits. The taunts. The way you looked at me across the ice like you wanted to kill me. That was all... what? A plan?"Sebastian's throat moved as he swallowed. "Not a plan. Not at first. It just—it happened. I didn't know how else to—""To trap me?"Sebastian flinched. "To keep you close."Damian turned away. He walked to the window and pressed his forehead against the cold glass. Outside, the city was dark, streetlights reflecting off the wet pavement. Somewhere out there, people were living normal lives. Not hiding in apartments. Not reading diaries that explain

The apartment was quiet.Too quiet.Damian noticed it first when he woke up from a nap on Sebastian's couch. The afternoon light had shifted, gone gold and then gray. The clock on the wall said 4:47 PM. He had been asleep for two hours. Sebastian wasn't beside him.He sat up, rubbing his eyes. His bandaged feet were propped on a pillow. His neck was stiff. The blanket Sebastian had draped over him had slipped to the floor."Sebastian?"No answer.Damian stood up carefully. His feet still hurt, but the bleeding had stopped. He limped to the bedroom. Empty. The bathroom. Empty. The kitchen. Empty, except for the dirty dishes from breakfast.Sebastian's phone was on the counter. His keys were on the hook by the door. He hadn't gone far.Damian found him on the fire escape.Sebastian was sitting on the metal grating, his back against the brick wall, his knees pulled up to his chest. He was wearing the same clothes from last night—sweatpants, thin t-shirt, no jacket. The air was cold enoug