La La Land, Friends to Lovers, trauma
It was fun to hang out with Sebastian. He was the kind of guy every girl wanted to be around, handsome, talented, quick-witted, and with a smirk to die for.
Of course, all of that still had the classic Los Angeles packaging of a bit of an asshole, but, after a while, Mia actually began enjoying his company, nevertheless. They first met at a restaurant where Sebastian was in the middle of losing his job, then – at the party, when yellow 80s-inspired chinos exchanged the suit pants from before. Since then, a series of rather poorly planned out accidental encounters led to them spending time together after Mia’s work and in between Sebastian’s gigs nearly daily.
“I like you,” he said to her one day. They were sitting at a bar that was simple but nice and cheap enough to fit both their standards and their wallets. The staff was either completely occupied or entirely ignorant of their job, because there was barely any space left for the empty cocktail glasses on their table, and they needed to hold the ones that still had booze in them in their hands. Hearing the statement, Mia looked up at him, more attentively than before. His face didn’t reveal much, as if there had been nothing grand, standing behind his words, just a casual, friendly remark. But men weren’t usually ones for the innocent, and Mia knew it was unfair of her to keep him wondering.
“Sebastian...” she started. His smile relaxed but a bit hazy, his eyes fixed on hers. “I like you. I do! But I – I don’t think we should –“
His finger raised into the air halted her.
“Hey, stop. Don’t worry. I don’t expect anything.”
The genuineness of it hurt. “You have every right to. But I’m not... I can’t. I want – maybe. Not right now.”
His hand found hers. She felt a subtle squeeze, comforting and friend-like in every possible way. “Don’t worry.”
An exchange of smiles.
Mia could see the ghosts of her past stand by them, their presence loud and clear, just like the sadness that accompanied them. But it was her night. A night for drinks, laughter, and snarky comments with a person who expected nothing of her. Haunted, she finished her drink. The sweet nothing tasted like new beginnings.