In the evening, Seb and Nannie argue. He leaves most of his dinner on the plate, and Nannie has finally had enough.
"Sebastian," she tells him, annoyed. "You are going to eat the entirety of that meal, and you will not move until you do."
He scowls and ignores her completely, getting up to take the plate into the kitchen. It smashes, somehow, and I hope that it was an accident.
Suddenly fuming, he storms through the living room.
"Where do you think you're going?" Nannie demands.
"To strap a chainsaw to my wrist," he spits.
"Seb!" I exclaim, shocked he'd say something like that, knowing how I feel about it.
His expression softens slightly. "I'm sorry, that was insensitive," he says. Then he glares at Nannie. "Leave me alone."
I wait for five minutes before following him upstairs, and knock on his bedroom door lightly.
He opens it immediately, visibly upset, and lets me in. Then he just stares at the floor.
"Seb... what's wrong?"
He shakes his head. A sign, not that it's 'nothing', but that he doesn't want to tell me.
I go over to where he's sitting and kneel in front of him. "I thought you were happy."
"I'm... he hesitates and looks up at me, then sighs. "I'm never happy, Lola."
"At least tell me what's wrong," I say. "And truthfully."
He shakes his head again. "I will end up lying to you, and I don't want to do that."
"If I tell you," he says eventually. "If I tell you... the one thing I ask is that you pretend you don't know."
Although it's very much against my better judgement, I agree because there's little I can do if I don't even know.
Seb sighs again and gets up, striding to the other side of his room. He sits on his bed, facing me.
"I... can't do this. I can't live like this," he casts his eyes away from me. "I've been trying to live for you, but... it's no just something that goes away. And... it's difficult for me to cope... I'm sorry."
It's obvious to me that he has deliberately avoided mentioning the knowledge looming over us both, but it doesn't stop me from trying to talk him out of it.
"I'm not doing it now. Not for a while..." he meets my gaze with a pained expression. "There'll be something which triggers it. Probably something small."
Slowly, I come to some sort of understanding about this, and form a question. "Will I know?"
"I'm hoping with everything I have that you won't," he says, and hangs his head. "But I have no control over that."
He sighs again, shakily, wiping his eyes, and I am fighting back tears.