Empty Love

Chapter 2

The roar of the crowd was deafening as Liam crossed the end zone, securing the win in the final seconds. The stadium erupted—cheers, stomping bleachers, the blare of the fight song—but Sabrina barely heard any of it. Her eyes were locked on the way Liam’s jersey clung to his shoulders as his teammates mobbed him, on the rare, unguarded grin that flashed across his face before he disappeared into the tunnel.

Damn.

Fiona elbowed her ribs. “Alright, Sab. I’ve humored you enough. Time to go.”

Sabrina clutched her arm tightly, her fingers digging into the cloth covered flesh,

“But—they’re throwing the after-party at Liam’s frat house. Everyone’s going.” She batted her lashes and bit her lips while moving side to side . “This might be my only chance to make a move.”

Fiona groaned but ultimately caved, muttering something about “enabling bad decisions” as they joined the flood of students heading off-campus.

---

By 10 PM, Liam’s house was a pulsing, sweat-soaked mass of a party. The bass from the speakers vibrated in Sabrina’s teeth, a relentless thrum that made her ribs ache. Neon lights streaked across bodies pressed too close in the dimness, the air thick with the sour tang of beer and something sharper—vodka, maybe, or the metallic hint of vape smoke. Someone jostled her, sloshing a foamy drink down her legs. She would have yelped, but the noise would be drowned by sounds anyways, so she gritted her teeth instead.

Fiona dragged her to the makeshift bar—a folding table laden with liquor handles and sticky red cups—and shoved a beer into her hand.

“Drink up!”

She shouted over the music, her eyes scanning the room like a hawk. “And please try not to embarrass yourself.”

Sabrina took a swig, the cheap hops bitter on her tongue. “No promises.”

Her gaze snagged on a figure leaning against the far wall, half-shadowed but unmistakable. Liam.

He wasn’t in his jersey anymore, just a thin white tee that did nothing to hide the cut of his arms as he crossed them. A girl with glossy dark hair was talking to him, her fingers brushing his bicep.

She knew that girl - Maya, she ran for teen vogue and has to be the prettiest girl on campus.

Sabrina’s stomach twisted.

Fiona followed her stare and snorted. “Oh, this’ll be good.”

“Shut up.” Sabrina knocked back the rest of her beer, wiped her mouth failing to hide the grimace creeping up her face, and downed the contents of her cup in a bid to hide her embarrassment.

Sabrina clung to the edges of the crowd, scanning for him_there, by the stairs, his broad shoulders cutting through the haze of smoke. Another girl in a sequined top whispered in his ear, her fingers curled around his bicep. Liam’s expression didn’t change. He might as well have been carved from stone.

Sabrina’s stomach twisted. Stupid. He doesn’t even know you exist.

She threw her now empty cup into the trash with more force than was necessary. But when she looked up, he was gone. She craned her neck, rising onto her toes, but the crowd had swallowed him whole. After five minutes of fruitless searching, she slumped against the wall. Probably left. Or slipped upstairs with Maya.

The thought made her throat tighten.

An hour later, beer sour on her tongue and feet aching in her too-high heels , Sabrina slipped down the hall toward the bathroom—and froze.

The door was ajar. Inside, Liam braced himself against the sink, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Fresh cuts laddered his wrists, stark and red against his pale skin. Blood beaded too fast, dripping into the porcelain basin in fat, uneven drops. His breath hitched, each inhale ragged, like he was fighting to keep quiet.

Sabrina’s pulse shrieked. Oh my god.

Her first thought was to run. This wasn’t some rom-com meet-cute—this was blood and pain and something wrong. But her feet stayed rooted to the floor.

Instead, she pushed the door open.

Liam’s head snapped up. Their eyes met in the mirror—his widened, wild with panic; hers horrified.

You’re bleeding,” she blurted.

He yanked his sleeves down, but the fabric soaked through instantly. Dark red bloomed across the white cotton like ink. “Leave.”

“You need stitches.” She stepped closer, hands trembling. The bathroom smelled like copper and cheap citrus soap. “I’ll take you to the ER—”

“No hospitals.” His voice was raw, almost pleading. The words cracked, and for a second, he sounded younger. Scared.

Sabrina hesitated, then grabbed a wad of toilet paper and pressed it to his arm. He hissed, muscles tensing, but didn’t pull away. “Alcohol thins your blood, i***t. You’re gonna bleed out in some frat-house bathroom.”

Liam flinched. His fingers curled around the edge of the sink, knuckles white. “...Not supposed to bleed this much.”

“Yeah, no shit.” She scowled, tightening her grip. The blood seeped through the paper, warm and sticky against her fingers. “Where do you live? Like actually live, not this party hellhole.”

A pause. Then, so quiet she barely heard: “Across the street.” She held his hand walking briskly trying to get to his place as soon as possible to stop the bleeding . She turned only to see him staggering trying hard to stay still.

Biting her lip, she grabbed his hand again careful for his wrists and after 10 minutes of huddled crossing , they were at his place.

---

Twenty minutes later, Sabrina sat on Liam’s ratty couch, clumsily wrapping gauze around his thick wrists while he stared at the wall. His apartment was unnervingly bare—no photos, no clutter, just a half-empty bookshelf and a single coffee mug in the sink. The only sign of life was a football jersey tossed over a chair, the number 23 barely visible under a layer of dust.

“You’re s**t at this,” he muttered as the bandage slipped.

She huffed. “I’m a political science major, not a nurse.”

Liam’s mouth twitched. Almost a smile.

Something flickered in his eyes—exhaustion, maybe, or the ghost of amusement. “Could’ve fooled me, little nurse.”

Sabrina’s cheeks burned. She opened her mouth to retort, but then his gaze dropped to his wrists, and the moment shattered.

Silence settled between them, heavy and thick. Somewhere outside, a car door slammed, and the distant thump of bass from the party pulsed like a dying heartbeat.

"So…you're really using up all that scholarship money huh" Sabrina smirked, gesturing around.

He chuckled darkly "I rarely stay here, just got it so I can have a place to chill alone sometimes. "

"You could at least change the couch. This poor thing is seconds away from collapsing. " Sabrina grinned again, amusement shining in her eyes. It was better to laugh, it concealed pain, it distracted from fear.

He chuckled softly, turning his head to face her. "Thank you nurse-- for this." It was a soft whisper, raising his bandaged wrists to her.

"I'm not a nurse Liam.” Sabrina sighs again, but her voice was strangely light and airy, it did not sound at all like her. Clearing her throat, she tried again.

“Oh, and avoid putting pressure on your wrists, don't raise anything heavy."

"Yes, nurse," he answered between bursts of laughter.

And at that moment, it was enough. Sabrina told herself, even as her heart yearned for more.