Olivia's POV
The sunset painted the sky in hues of amber and lavender as I stood on the sidewalk outside my small apartment building. Two months had passed since Jonathan's death—two months since the truth about ECHO had been exposed to the world. Vince had covered up Sebastian's involvement, claiming Jonathan had taken his own life after the collapse of his "dream project." The official story never mentioned that Sebastian had killed his own father.
The aftermath had been a whirlwind of justice and heartbreak. Dr. Anika was sentenced to twenty years. Police Chief Halden received thirty years for covering up ECHO's atrocities. Senator Darrin Cole got ten years for funding the project, while General Lawrence was sentenced to forty years for the disappearances of all those children. His son received life imprisonment for his unforgivable crimes. My parents were given five years—a punishment that still felt insufficient for what they'd allowed to happen.
Everything had changed. Sebastian had become distant, quieter, his eyes often lost in thoughts he wouldn't share. As for school, we had become objects of morbid fascination. Teachers watched us with concern, and even Brad, Stacy, and Emily—the tormentors who had made my life hell—had fallen quiet. They no longer bullied me, but their silence felt less like remorse and more like fear.
Tonight was our senior prom—our first and last dance together before graduation. In just a few weeks, high school would be behind us. I had left my family home and now shared a modest apartment with Mehuša, who had become more than a guardian to me; she was my anchor in the storm.
Sebastian was living with Eve. At eighteen, he was legally an adult now, working part-time at a café to support himself. Luke's absence left a gaping hole in our lives. We had no idea where he was, and Sebastian carried that loss like a physical weight. Even Eve seemed changed, unsettled by Luke's disappearance.
I smoothed down my dress for the tenth time, my fingertips tracing the delicate fabric. I had chosen a deep midnight-blue gown that fell to my ankles in flowing waves, reminiscent of the night sky. The bodice was adorned with tiny crystal beads that caught the light like distant stars, while the off-shoulder design revealed just enough skin to make me feel beautiful but not exposed. My hair cascaded in soft waves down my back, pinned with silver clips that Mehuša had given me as a gift.
"You look like stardust come to life," she had whispered as she helped me get ready. "A constellation walking among humans."
The rumble of an engine pulled me from my reverie. Sebastian's car. My heart skipped as he stepped out, and for a moment, I forgot to breathe.
He wore a classic black tuxedo that fit his tall frame perfectly, his dark hair styled just enough to look intentional without seeming fussy. The contrast between the black fabric and his pale skin made him look like a figure from a classic film. But it was his eyes that caught me—those green depths that had seen too much, that carried shadows no eighteen-year-old should know.
"Hey," he said, his voice soft as he approached. "You look good."
A small smile tugged at his lips, but it didn't reach his eyes. There was something restrained in his posture, as if he were holding himself together with invisible threads.
"You look beautiful," I responded, studying his face. "Absolutely handsome."
His smile widened slightly. "Come on, we don't want to be late." He opened the passenger door for me, and I slid in, careful not to wrinkle my dress.
The drive to school was quiet, punctuated only by the soft music playing from the radio. Sebastian tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, a nervous habit I'd noticed developing over the past weeks. I wanted to reach out, to place my hand over his, but something in his demeanor kept me from doing so.
"How's work going?" I asked, trying to break the silence.
"It's fine. Nothing special, but it pays the bills." He glanced at me briefly. "How's the apartment with Mehuša?"
"It's small but it feels safe. She's been teaching me to cook something besides instant noodles."
He chuckled, and for a second, I caught a glimpse of the old Sebastian—the one who could laugh without restraint. "That's probably a good life skill."
"Yeah, apparently adults need to eat real food sometimes."
The school parking lot was filled with cars and limousines. Fairy lights had been strung across the entrance, creating a magical pathway into the gymnasium. Groups of students in formal wear clustered together, laughing and taking photos. Some fell silent as we passed, their eyes following us with that familiar mix of curiosity and unease that had become our unwanted companion.
Sebastian took my hand as we walked in, his touch gentle but hesitant. I intertwined my fingers with his, trying to convey everything I couldn't say: I'm here. I understand. You're not alone.
The gymnasium had been transformed into a celestial wonderland. The theme was "A Night Among the Stars," and the decorating committee had outdone themselves. The ceiling was draped with deep blue and purple fabrics that created the illusion of a midnight sky. Thousands of tiny lights were suspended at varying heights, mimicking a star-filled cosmos. The walls were lined with silver and midnight blue drapery, and each table was adorned with centerpieces of crystal vases filled with luminescent blue and white flowers that seemed to glow from within.
The dance floor was illuminated by soft blue lighting that ebbed and flowed like ocean waves, creating an ethereal atmosphere. A large silver crescent moon hung at one end of the gym, providing a backdrop for photos. The DJ station was set up opposite, surrounded by artificial clouds made of cotton and soft lighting.
"They've really transformed the place," I said, trying to mask my awe. "It's hard to believe this is the same gym where Coach Freeman made us run laps until we collapsed."
Sebastian's eyes scanned the room, taking it all in. "It's like another world," he agreed. "Makes you forget what exists outside these walls."
We moved through the crowd, exchanging polite nods with classmates. I caught sight of Brad standing by the punch bowl, his date clinging to his arm. When our eyes met, he quickly looked away, turning his back to us. Stacy and Emily were seated at a table, whispering to each other. Emily glanced up as we passed, her expression unreadable before she returned to her conversation.
"Want something to drink?" Sebastian asked, nodding toward the refreshment table.
"Sure."
While he went to get our drinks, I stood at the edge of the dance floor, watching couples sway to a slow song. Everything felt surreal—being here, wearing this dress, pretending for one night that we were just normal teenagers attending their senior prom.
"Here," Sebastian returned, handing me a cup of punch. His fingers brushed against mine, and I felt that familiar flutter in my chest—the one that reminded me that despite everything, my feelings for him had only deepened.
"Thank you." I took a sip, the overly sweet liquid coating my tongue. "It's not spiked yet. I give it another hour before someone takes care of that tradition."
A hint of amusement flickered across his features. "Probably less."
The music shifted to a more upbeat song, and I saw Sebastian's fingers tapping against his cup in rhythm.
"Dance with me?" I asked, setting my drink down on a nearby table.
He hesitated for a moment, then nodded, placing his cup next to mine. "Fair warning—I haven't exactly practiced."
"Neither have I," I admitted. "We can look ridiculous together."
And for a while, we did just that. We moved awkwardly at first, finding our rhythm among the crowd of our peers. But as the minutes passed, something shifted. Sebastian became more fluid, more present. When a slower song began to play, he pulled me closer, his hand resting lightly on the small of my back.
I looked up into his eyes as we swayed to the music. In the blue light, they appeared almost translucent, but the emptiness I had noticed earlier still lingered.
"Seb," I said softly, "are you okay?"
He smiled, but it was a smile that carried too much weight. "Just dance, Liv. We'll talk later."
So I did. I rested my head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart as we moved together. His body was warm against mine, solid and real in a world that had become increasingly uncertain. For a few songs, I allowed myself to forget everything—ECHO, Jonathan, my parents, the uncertain future that loomed before us. I focused only on the music, on Sebastian's arms around me, on the sensation of being close to him.
We danced through several songs, losing ourselves in the rhythm and each other's company. Sometimes I caught him looking at me with an intensity that made my breath catch, but then his expression would cloud over, as if remembering something painful.
After about an hour, Sebastian leaned down, his lips close to my ear. "Do you want to get some air? It's getting crowded in here."
I nodded, and he took my hand, leading me through the throng of dancing students toward the exit. We slipped out a side door that opened onto the school garden—a small, enclosed space that the horticulture club maintained. During the day, it was a riot of colors and scents, but at night, under the silver moonlight, it had transformed into a mystical grove.
Stone pathways wound between carefully tended flower beds. A small fountain trickled softly in the center, its water catching the moonlight and throwing it back in glittering fragments. The air was cooler here, filled with the fragrance of night-blooming jasmine and roses.
"This is nice," I said, grateful for the relative quiet after the thumping bass of the gymnasium.
Sebastian led me to a stone bench near the fountain. The moonlight bathed us in its gentle glow, casting soft shadows across his features. He looked almost otherworldly, like a character from a fairy tale rather than a boy who had endured unimaginable horrors.
"Sit with me?" he asked, his voice barely audible over the gentle splash of the fountain.
I settled beside him on the cold stone, smoothing my dress around me. He was quiet for a long moment, looking up at the moon as if searching for words in its craters and valleys.
Finally, he turned to me, taking both my hands in his. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, as he held my fingers between his palms.
"Liv," he began, his voice low and serious. "I need you to listen carefully to what I'm about to say. And please—" he swallowed hard, "please don't jump to conclusions before I've finished. Can you promise me that?"
A cold dread began to pool in my stomach. "Seb, you're scaring me."
He sighed, his thumbs tracing circles on the backs of my hands. "Just listen, okay? Please."
I nodded, trying to prepare myself for whatever was coming.
"Liv," he said, his eyes meeting mine with painful intensity, "I'm leaving."
The words hit me like a physical blow. "Leaving? What do you mean? We're all leaving for college, but—"
"No," he interrupted gently. "Eve and I are leaving town. Soon. After graduation."
I felt as if the ground had disappeared from beneath me. "What? Why? Where are you going?"
"We haven't decided exactly where yet. Somewhere far from here. Somewhere new, where nobody knows who we are or what happened."
"But what about college? What about—" I couldn't bring myself to say it. What about us?
Sebastian's grip on my hands tightened slightly. "Remember what you promised. Let me explain fully."
I pressed my lips together, fighting back the tide of panic rising within me.
"Liv, I've been thinking about this for weeks. I need... I need to heal." His voice broke slightly on the last word. "Every night, I close my eyes and I see him—my father—falling. I hear the sound he made when he hit the ground. I feel the weight of the gun in my hand."
His eyes glistened in the moonlight, unshed tears making them appear even more luminous. "I wake up screaming more nights than not. Eve comes into my room and sits with me until I can breathe again."
"Seb," I whispered, my heart breaking for him.
He shook his head. " When someone touches me unexpectedly, I flinch. When I hear a loud noise, I'm back there—in that place, with him." He drew a shaky breath. "I don't want to be like this, Liv. I don't want to be broken. I don't want to be the person who jumps at shadows or who can't bear to be touched without warning."
"You're not broken," I insisted, reaching up to cup his cheek. "You're traumatized. And that's not your fault."
He leaned into my touch for a moment, his eyes closing briefly. When he opened them again, they were filled with a determination I hadn't seen in months.
"I know it's not my fault. But it is my responsibility to address it." His voice grew stronger. "I need professional help, Liv. The kind I can't get here, where everyone knows me as Jonathan Patterson's son. Where the whispers follow me everywhere I go."
"We could go together," I suggested, desperation creeping into my voice. "I need healing too. We could help each other."
Sebastian's smile was sad but tender. "That's exactly why we shouldn't, Liv. We can't be each other's therapists. We both have trauma—different kinds, but still deep wounds. If we try to heal together right now, we risk becoming dependent on each other in unhealthy ways."
"But—"
"Think about it," he continued gently. "You have trust issues—and with good reason. Your parents betrayed you in the most fundamental way. You need to work through that without worrying about how it affects me. And I need to work through my trauma's and nightmares without burdening you."
I knew he was right, but that didn't make it hurt any less. Tears spilled onto my cheeks, and Sebastian wiped them away with his thumb.
"I don't want our relationship to be built on shared trauma," he said softly. "I want it to be built on love, on strength, on two whole people choosing each other—not two broken people clinging to the only other person who understands their pain."
I took a deep, shuddering breath. "How long? How long will you be gone?"
"I don't know," he admitted. "As long as it takes. A year, maybe more."
"And then?"
His eyes softened, and for the first time that night, I saw genuine hope in them. "And then, if you still want me, and if I'm better—truly better—I'll come back to you."
"If I still want you?" I repeated incredulously. "Seb, I'll always want you."
"You don't know that," he said gently. "You might meet someone at college who makes you happy, who doesn't carry all this darkness. And if that happens, I want you to be open to it. I don't want you waiting for me if it means missing out on joy."
"That's not fair," I protested. "You can't tell me to move on and then say you'll come back."
"I'm not telling you to move on," he clarified. "I'm telling you to live your life. Heal. Grow. And if, at the end of that journey, we both still feel this way about each other, then maybe that's the universe telling us something."
I looked down at our intertwined hands, trying to process everything he was saying. Part of me wanted to argue, to beg him to stay, to insist we could heal together. But another part—the part that had grown stronger through all the trauma—recognized the wisdom in his words.
"I love you, Liv." The words hung in the night air between us, simple yet profound. "That's my confession. I love you. I think I've loved you since I first saw when you sat beside me when I was 7 years old. And give me the ice cream and make me forgot everything that was going on in my life. Make me smile. 'That's the kind of person I want to be.'"
My heart swelled at his words, even as it was breaking. "Seb, I love you too. More than I can say."
"Then understand why I have to do this," he pleaded. "I need to become someone worthy of that love—someone whole and healthy who can love you the way you deserve."
I nodded slowly, tears streaming freely now. "Promise me something?"
"Anything."
"Promise me you'll come back." My voice was barely a whisper. "Promise we'll find each other again when we're both healed."
A genuine smile spread across his face, reaching his eyes for the first time that night. "I promise. We have plans, remember? We need to buy a cat and name it Mrs. Whiskers."
I couldn't help but laugh through my tears, shoving his shoulder playfully. "You made fun of that name."
"It's growing on me," he admitted, chuckling. His expression turned serious again. "I promise, Liv. This isn't goodbye forever. It's just goodbye for now."
He leaned forward then, one hand moving to cup the back of my neck. Our lips met in a kiss that was different from any we'd shared before. It wasn't hesitant or frightened or desperate. It was deep and sure, filled with all the words we couldn't say.
His lips were soft against mine, moving with gentle intent. I curled my fingers into the lapel of his jacket, drawing him closer as I returned the kiss with equal fervor. It felt like a seal on a promise, like the period at the end of one chapter and the capital letter beginning the next.
When we finally pulled apart, his forehead rested against mine, our breaths mingling in the cool night air. His eyes were closed, long lashes casting shadows on his cheeks. I memorized every detail of his face in that moment—the curve of his lips, the line of his jaw, the way the moonlight silvered his dark hair.
"When?" I asked, my voice husky.
"The day after graduation." He opened his eyes, meeting my gaze. "Eve and I have been packing gradually. We've rented an apartment in a city a few states away. I've already applied for a job at a bookstore there. And have applied for the school for Eve there"
I nodded, trying to be strong. "Will you keep in touch?"
Sebastian hesitated. "Not at first. I think... I think we both need a clean break to focus on our healing. But I'll send you my address. You can write to me if you want to, and I'll write back. Old-fashioned letters."
"Like in those romantic movies?"
"Exactly like that," he agreed with a small smile. "Maybe a bit clichéd, but..."
"No," I interrupted. "It's perfect. Letters mean we're still connected, but they give us both the space we need."
He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch lingering on my cheek. "You understand me better than anyone ever has, Liv."
"And I always will," I promised. "No matter how far apart we are."
We sat in the garden for a long time after that, talking about everything and nothing—our hopes for the future, our favorite memories, the places we wanted to visit someday. We carefully avoided talk of ECHO, of Jonathan, of all the darkness that had brought us together. Tonight wasn't about the past; it was about creating a memory that would sustain us through the separation to come.
Eventually, the sounds of music from the gymnasium began to fade as the dance wound down. Sebastian stood, offering me his hand.
"One more dance?" he asked.
I placed my hand in his. "One more dance."
We returned to the gym just as the DJ announced the last song of the night. Most of our classmates had already left, but a few couples remained on the dance floor, swaying slowly to a gentle ballad. The blue lights had dimmed even further, creating an intimate atmosphere.
Sebastian wrapped his arms around my waist, and I looped mine around his neck. We moved together in perfect synchrony, as if our bodies had been designed to fit against each other. I rested my head on his chest, closing my eyes to better absorb the sensation of being in his arms.
"Thank you," he murmured into my hair.
"For what?"
"For understanding. For not making this harder than it already is."
I looked up at him, studying the contours of his face. "I want you to heal, Seb. Even if it means being apart for a while."
"And I want that for you too." He pressed a kiss to my forehead. "When we find each other again, we'll be stronger. Better."
"Is it wrong that part of me is already counting the days until then?"
He shook his head. "Not if you're also living each of those days fully. Promise me you'll do that, Liv. Promise me you won't put your life on hold."
"I promise," I said, meaning it. "I'll live and heal and grow. And I'll write you letters telling you all about it."
"I'll keep every one," he vowed.
As the final notes of the song faded away, Sebastian pulled back slightly, his eyes holding mine. "Ready to go?"
I nodded, knowing he meant more than just leaving the dance. He was asking if I was ready for what came next—the separation, the healing, the uncertain future.
We walked hand in hand to his car, the night air cool against my skin. The parking lot was nearly empty now, most of our classmates having left for after-parties or returned home. The moon hung low in the sky, a silent witness to our bittersweet farewell.
The drive back to my apartment was quiet, but it wasn't an uncomfortable silence. It was the silence of two people who had said what needed to be said, who understood each other on a level that transcended words.
When Sebastian pulled up in front of my building, he turned off the engine and turned to face me.
"I'll see you at school tomorrow," he said, his voice gentle. "And the day after that, and at graduation. We still have a few weeks."
"I know." I reached out to touch his face, my fingertips tracing the line of his jaw. "It's not goodbye yet."
He leaned in, pressing his lips to mine in a tender kiss. "Not yet," he agreed when we parted.
I got out of the car, smoothing down my dress as I stood on the sidewalk. Sebastian rolled down the window, looking up at me with eyes that contained both sadness and hope.
"Goodnight, Liv."
"Goodnight, Seb."
I watched as he drove away, his taillights gradually disappearing into the distance. The night air was cool against my tear-stained cheeks, but I didn't feel cold. Inside, something warm had taken root—not the desperate heat of infatuation, but the steady glow of true love. The kind that could withstand distance and time.
Sebastian was right. We needed to heal separately before we could truly be together. And when that day came—when we had both faced our demons and emerged stronger—we would find each other again. Of that, I had no doubt.
As I climbed the stairs to my apartment, I thought about the letters I would write him. I would fill them with stories of my healing journey, with the small triumphs and inevitable setbacks. I would pour my heart onto those pages, creating a bridge across the distance that would separate us.
And someday, when we were both ready, we would start a new chapter together—with a cat named Mrs. Whiskers and all the time in the world to love each other properly, as two whole people rather than two halves seeking completion.
That wasn't an ending. It was a beginning.
And I was ready.