Sebastian's POV
—One Year Later—
People warned me.
They said love changes you. Makes you soft. Stupid. Submissive.
They were right.
I am currently sitting on the floor of Ray's dorm room—because of course she moved into the one next to mine, said the universe wasn't doing enough for her clinginess—half-asleep, braiding her absurdly long hair that looks like it could smother a small country.
"Seb," she mumbled, twisting a daisy between her fingers. "Put this in the braid."
"I already put six."
"But this one's special. This one looks like it likes you."
"I'm a grown man arguing with a flower."
She giggled, spinning around in my lap and cupping my face. "You love it."
I don't respond. Mostly because I do.
She's practically lived in my arms for the past year. If she's not in my lap, she's on my back. If she's not clinging to my hoodie like a human koala, she's wrapping herself around my waist like it's a sport.
And I let her. No—need her.
She wakes me up every morning with a voice that should be too loud for 7:00 a.m., dragging me out of bed like,
"Did you drink water today? No? You'll die, Sebastian. Actually die. Drink. I'll cry if you die."
She made me eight different types of pasta last week because I said I was stressed once. She labeled each one with sticky notes like, 'Eat me if you're tired,' 'Eat me if you hate people,' 'Eat me because I made it and I love you.'
She's chaotic. Bright. Unapologetically Ray.
And I can't believe I get to keep her.
"Do you love me?" she asked, mid-braid.
"You're literally sitting in my lap while I do your hair and help you arrange your flower garden up there."
"That's not a yes," she pouted, poking my cheek.
I raised an eyebrow. "Ray."
"Say it."
"I love you."
"Louder."
"I love you."
She squealed. "I knew it. I knew you were whipped."
She threw her arms around my neck, nearly toppling us both over.
"You're going to suffocate me," I muttered into her hair.
"You'd die loved."
I'm not sure how I went from being the guy with walls taller than empires to being head-over-heels in love with the girl who asked me to braid her hair and put flowers in it.
But I wouldn't change a damn thing.
Not even the petals stuck in my hoodie.