Sebastian's POV:
We ended up back inside her house, which still smelled like ash and woodsmoke from a fire she probably let burn out days ago. The lights were dim. One of the bulbs in the ceiling fixture flickered a little, like even the electricity was nervous around her. Still, it felt... warmer than it did last time I was here.
Hannah didn't say much as we all found places to sit—Sam took the floor without hesitation, Abigail sat stiffly at the edge of the couch like it might bite her, and I leaned against the wall near the window, hands shoved in my jacket pockets.
She hovered near the kitchen counter, picking at a chipped mug she wasn't even drinking from.
"So," Sam started, rocking back on his hands, "what's new in the life of Skull Cavern Hannah? Any more goblin beheadings or, I dunno, casual demon banishments?"
Hannah raised an eyebrow. "Not recently, but I did yell at my scarecrow for staring at me too long. He's been angry ever since."
Sam laughed. Abigail blinked, unsure, and then slowly smiled.
"You're joking, right?" Abigail asked.
"No," Hannah said flatly. Then she smirked. "But yes. Mostly."
That dry, bizarre sense of humor—like she's walking a tightrope between sarcasm and complete emotional detachment. It's something you learn to understand. Appreciate, even. And as I watched them, I saw the moment it clicked for Abigail. She got it, even just a little.
"She's kinda funny," Sam muttered, nudging Abigail with his elbow. "Like, in a haunted cryptid sort of way."
"That's... weirdly accurate," Abigail replied, grinning now.
I glanced at Hannah. She was pretending not to listen, but her shoulders weren't as tense as before. The sharp edges of her posture had dulled. She wasn't relaxed—she never really relaxed anymore—but she wasn't guarding herself like a cornered animal either.
We talked for a while—about nothing, mostly. Sam ranted about JojaMart's holiday sales, Abigail brought up her new sword build in Spirit's Edge, and Hannah quietly interjected with these perfectly timed, deadpan comments that had all of us laughing more than we probably should've.
It wasn't the same as it used to be. It would never be the same.
But it didn't feel broken anymore.
After a while, Abigail leaned forward. "Hey... I was thinking," she said slowly, like she was testing the words before committing to them. "The Spirit's Eve festival is next week. Do you guys want to go together? Like we did last year?"
There was a pause. Sam looked over at Hannah, waiting for her reaction. I did too.
She tilted her head. "As long as no one makes me bob for apples or wear a costume I'm not opposed."
Abigail smiled. Not forced. Not cautious. Just genuine. "Deal. No costumes. Just pumpkins and probably a few jump scares."
"I'll bring my scythe," Hannah said dryly.
"Perfect," Sam replied. "You can defend us from the haunted maze clowns."
They laughed again, and this time, Hannah joined in—quietly, barely audible, but herself. That strange, sharp edge she carried wasn't off-putting anymore. It was real, and they were finally seeing what I've seen for a while now: she's still in there.
She's changed, yeah. She's darker, harder to reach. But the pieces are still her. Still Hannah.
And for the first time in what felt like forever, I wasn't the only one who saw it.
I looked at her, surrounded by our friends, no longer out of place in her own home, and I felt it hit me in the chest: they're learning to love her as she is.
Just like I do.
Hannah's POV:
The others left a little while ago. The door clicked shut behind them, and the house went quiet again—like it was exhaling after being held too tight.
I stayed standing by the window, arms crossed, watching the faint glow of their lanterns disappear down the path. My chest ached, but not the way it usually does. It wasn't panic. It wasn't numb, either. It was just... full. A strange kind of full.
"You're still here," I said without turning around.
Sebastian was sitting on the couch, his leg bouncing slightly, like he wasn't sure if he should speak or wait for me to.
"You okay?" he asked finally, voice soft.
"I don't know," I said honestly.
He didn't push. He just waited. That's the thing with him—he doesn't fill silence with noise. He lets it stretch until it means something.
I turned and walked over to the couch, sitting next to him but not touching. Not yet.
"I know I weirded them out," I said. "I say things now without realizing how they sound. Like... my filter's gone. Or maybe it got crushed somewhere between the fourth monster and the fifth panic attack."
He smiled, barely. "You've always been weird. That's not new."
"Thanks," I muttered.
"That wasn't an insult."
I sighed and leaned back, letting my head rest against the top of the couch. "It was easier when it was just you. You already know what parts of me are broken."
He shifted, his knee bumping mine. "I don't think you're broken."
I looked at him. "Then you're not paying attention."
He turned toward me, fully now. His voice wasn't soft this time—it had a kind of sharp clarity to it, like he needed me to believe this. Really believe it.
"Hannah, what you went through would've destroyed anyone. You didn't break. You adapted. That's what people do when they have to survive something no one else understands."
I blinked, swallowed. "But I'm not... the same."
"I know," he said. "And I don't want the same. I want you. This you. Right now. Messy, quiet, dark-humored, sometimes terrifying you."
I laughed, just a little. It came out more like a cough.
"I didn't think anyone could still want me like this."
He reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers lingered for a second too long.
"I've never stopped."
That made my throat burn.
I leaned forward, resting my forehead against his shoulder. I didn't cry. I didn't really feel enough for tears anymore. But I stayed like that—pressing into him, letting the warmth and weight of someone who knows me anchor me to the present.
He let one arm slide around me, slow and gentle like I might shatter if he moved too fast.
"You're not alone in this, Hannah," he whispered.
I believed him.
For the first time in a long time—I really believed him
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