Sebastian Stan 12

The red carpet was full of flashes, journalists, and fake smiles.

And Sebastian was there too.

You hadn't seen him in years.

Not from near.

Not since their relationship had exploded in front of all of Hollywood amid headlines, rumors and accusations.

You saw him on the other side of the carpet and immediately looked away.

You still hated him.

You hated remembering how everyone insisted he'd cheated on you with an actress during filming. You hated the photos, the TV shows, the articles that analyzed every detail of a breakup they hadn't even experienced.

And, above all, you hated that he had never tried to deny it.

On the other side, Sebastian had also seen you.

And he didn't seem happy either.

Because if there was anything that hurt him after so many years, it was hearing how you kept talking about him in interviews, always dropping the same insinuation.

That he had been unfaithful to you.

That it had destroyed you.

That he had been the villain of the story.

When the gala ended, they both left through different entrances.

You thought the night was over.

Until you heard screams.

—Sebastian! Sebastian!

A crowd of journalists swarmed around him.

Microphones.

Cameras.

Questions.

Pushing.

Sebastian tried to move forward, but it was impossible.

And then he saw the first car with its door open.

Without thinking twice, he went inside.

—Thanks, friend, I owe you one—

He froze.

You were sitting in the back seat.

The silence was instantaneous.

Uncomfortable.

Heavy.

"It can't be," you murmured.

—Believe me, I think exactly the same.

The driver started the car before the journalists could approach.

For several seconds neither of them spoke.

"If this is a joke by the universe, it's not funny," you said.

—For once we agree.

You turned your gaze towards the window.

You were still furious.

Years later.

Still.

Sebastian let out a bitter laugh.

—Do you know what the worst part is?

-I'm not interested.

—That you never listened to me.