Warning: May be a trigger for some people who have been through traumatic events. Can't give too much away, but besides that, enjoy!
6:15 A.M.
There's a last time for everything.
The thing that Dr. Harding didn't understand about Sebastian was that he wasn't abnormal at all. There was no chemical imbalance in his brain, no invisible demons whispering in his ear. So what if he woke up feeling slightly suicidal every morning? He swore it was the ringing of that god damn alarm clock; he'd kill himself just to escape the noise.
Every morning it beeped. And every morning it filled him with dread, loathing, anxiety, depression—every negative human emotion one could fathom, pressed together and delivered to him as if fresh from the dry cleaner's.
Dr. Harding never really bought that explanation, though. So Sebastian was stuck taking little green and white pills so he could wake up and get ready for work without incident. Incident, for fuck's sake. Like he was one of those mental people who looked for any given opportunity to claw out their own eyes. There were moments where he wished he were. Just so he'd have some tangible excuse to give people.
Hi, yeah, I'm sorry for yelling at you in the middle of your store. My brain is sort of half baked. Oh, and also, sorry for setting your welcome mat on fire. I have this condition that makes me want to punch walls.
But he knew better than anyone that he was pretty normal and couldn't get away with doing half the things mental people did.
But it was moments like this; moments when he lay half asleep in the dark as his alarm clock refused to shut the fuck up, that he thought himself very capable of going bat shit crazy.
He was thankful it was the last time he'd ever have to hear it. He didn't reach for his pills; instead just reaching over and shutting off the alarm entirely.
Today was the day.
The day he decided he was going to opt out.
6:47 A.M.
"Today's the day, Michele." Kurt said, backing up to get a good look at his most recent sketch. "I can feel it. Can't you?"
"Yes, sir." His assistant said as if on autopilot, causing Kurt to sigh loudly and approach her.
"Earth to Michele." Kurt said, getting in her face. He poked at her temple. "Is there an actual person in there? I'm starting to suspect you're a robot. Sent from the competition to spy on me."
"No, sir." Michele said, eyebrows creasing in confusion. That was the most emotion he'd seen her express in the past three days.
Being around her made him incredibly anxious for no real reason at all. And anxiety prevented creativity and he just could not have that. So he rummaged through his desk for a few moments before finding what he needed—a bottle of champagne.
"Do me a huge favor and take this, will you?" Kurt asked, handing her the bottle before she could utter a protest.
"Take this to who?" She asked and he really felt the urge to bang his head into a wall.
"It's yours." Kurt said. "Take the day off. Go get drunk. Bathe in it. I don't care, really, so long as you leave."
There was a moment of silence where the two just stared at each other.
"Are you serious?"
"Now."
And then she was gone and Kurt was left to sketch in piece. He was practically buzzing, ricocheting from one part of the room to another.
Maybe it would look better with a satchel. Wait, what if the satchel had gold trimming to compliment the shoes?! And what if the shoes were studded with-
After a dry spell of no inspiration for weeks the ideas bombarding him left and right were a gift. Sure, they were a few weeks late, but he would make do. Because later on he had a meeting with the Fernando Plaza, the fashion legend of the century; the man with the funding available to launch Kurt's unisex winter line. He had been trying to get an audience with him for six months and he couldn't do it. It was only with the help of Michele—as bland as she was she got shit done—that he finally succeeded.
It was all set up. They'd go to some Peace Corps informational session, which Kurt could care less about but it was crucial to kiss ass, then he'd finally get a chance to speak with him.
Today was the day. He could feel it.
The day everything was going to change.
7:30 A.M.
"Are you alright, Sebastian? Didn't get enough sleep?" His co-worker teased, laughing even further when Sebastian flipped him the bird.
"You'll never work in this town again, Baker." Sebastian grumbled as the two took the elevator up to the meeting room.
He was grateful to be chosen for this meeting. Honest.
Except he didn't understand how it happened. They had a team of Ivy League graduates to choose from, and they picked the guy with the degree from Ohio State.
Not that he regretted going to Ohio State. In fact, he prided himself on the fact that he did the exact opposite his dad wanted him to do. Because around the age where he started applying for colleges was also the same age Sebastian decided his "daddy" could go fuck himself. He was too young to understand that he shouldn't use himself as a weapon to hurt people who cared about him. Hell, it was a full eight years later and he still hadn't grasped the concept completely. (See: Two nights ago when he threatened to quit his job and join the circus if his dad did not stop calling him.)
As he rode the elevator he found himself absently wishing the meeting were in Paris or Milan as opposed to a place that was thirty minutes away from his apartment via subway.
Insatiable, he remembered being called once by someone a long time ago; someone who he hadn't thought about in what felt like years. You'll never be happy, Smythe. Because you always want more.
He supposed that was true.
7:25 A.M.
"Oh my god, it's wonderful." Kurt beamed as they approached the towering buildings. "We have to take pictures, okay?"
The limousine driver looked at him as if he were telling a funny joke. But Kurt wasn't laughing and the man's expression slowly turned from one of amusement to one of genuine concern.
"You'd have to pay me overtime." He elaborated.
Right. The driver couldn't come into the building with him. It was something he'd get to experience all by himself. With no distractions. Just how he liked it.
"Your loss." Kurt said.
It was always their loss.
He got out of the limousine and approached the impressive looking buildings, reading signs and locating the right entrance. He walked inside and watched as everyone whisked past him, every single one of them with a purpose; a destination. It was comforting to be around a bunch of people who knew what they were doing; made it easier for Kurt to pretend he had an inkling of what was going on; that he wasn't completely lost in every known way.
He looked around and finally found an elevator, eagerly getting on and standing next to businessmen and the like.
"This is my first time here." Kurt said to the disinterested looking woman in horn-rimmed glasses. "It's really exciting. Do you come here often?"
She nodded, smile strained.
"Oh. Well then I guess it's not as interesting anymore." He said, before looking down to see she was wearing one of his designs. "Love those shoes, by the way. Seriously. You have wonderful taste. Anyway, this is my floor."
It was as the elevator doors opened that he heard the woman turn to the man next to her and ask, "Wait, was that Kurt Hummel?"
Kurt turned around to confirm the woman's suspicions, but instead collided with a passing worker, sending his papers flying. The victim's friend just watched helplessly as the worker went down due to Kurt's negligence.
"I'm so sorry." Kurt said, bending down to help pick up the papers. "Really, I didn't even see you there."
"Yeah, I figured." The worker snapped and all of a sudden Kurt's sympathy was completely gone.
"Asshole." Kurt mumbled, finally looking up to hand him his papers. He stopped mid-action; stunned.
"I'm not…holy shit." The worker said. "Hummel?"
"Sebastian?"
7: 32 A.M
Sebastian was looking at Kurt motherfucking Hummel of all people. He could have bet money on never having to see his sorry face again, but as the fates would have it his shitty day definitely needed to take a turn for the worse.
He heard about his high school rival every now and again. At red carpet events he heard stars say time and time again, "I'm wearing a Hummel original."
He'd even read an article or two about him; just out of sheer curiosity. Kurt spent his years taking fashion marketing courses at NYU; fast-tracked himself to graduate school at the young age of twenty-one, started an internship, and before anyone could blink he had more or less made his mark on the fashion industry.
It was impressive, Sebastian gave him that. But the fact that those stupid outfits the kid used to wear in high school actually amounted to something other than embarrassing flashbacks irritated him more than anything else.
But if he was certain of one thing, it was this: all the articles he read neglected to mention that he got kind of hot. For once Hummel actually looked like a male as opposed to some weird nymphet. Sebastian was certain he saw actual definition, even though the kid still looked like he could afford to be fed more.
In another life Kurt Hummel might have been one of his conquests; had they met in a bar he would have been another nameless face. But it was now and Sebastian knew him better than most and the fact that he was here actually made him want to pull his own hair out.
"You can spot those pants from outer space." Sebastian mumbled.
"It's fashion, you uncultured swine." Kurt hissed.
"You two know each other?"
"Shut it, Baker." Sebastian said.
"Shutting it." His colleague started backing away. "See you later. Don't be late for the-"
"-the meeting, yes, I know."
And then he was off and it was just Sebastian and Kurt.
"So, you really are that horrible to everyone." Kurt noted, amused. "All these years I thought I was getting special treatment."
Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "How does it feel to know the earth doesn't revolve around you?"
"Crushing." Kurt answered with faux civility. "So, what are you here for?"
"Business negotiation." Sebastian said. "And I assume you're here for the in-house pride parade."
Kurt bit back a retort, instead just humming in disapproval. "I'm here for Peace Corps." He glanced at his watch.
"You're early." Sebastian noted.
"Well, I had to give myself time to look around, didn't I?" Kurt said.
Sebastian rolled his eyes. Of course Kurt would view one of the most important buildings in the United States as his own playground.
"I have to go." Sebastian said.
"Have you been here before?" Kurt asked.
"I said: I have to go." Sebastian clarified.
"You should show me around." Kurt said, and Sebastian was almost certain he was having a conversation with himself, because Kurt certainly wasn't listening. "Can you take me to the top floor? I've always wanted to see the view."
It must have been a long time since anyone had told him no.
"No." Sebastian said, hastily walking away from him and sighing in relief when he realized Kurt did not follow after him.
8:37 A.M.
"Thank you all for coming here today." CEO Walter Davis said to the room filled with twelve men who probably gave a shit and a thirteenth one who didn't. "The fact that you're all here shows that your revolutionary thinkers, people who truly care about the companies you work for, and I, for one-"
"I'm heading to the bathroom. Fill me in on what I missed?" Sebastian whispered to his co-worker before slipping out of the room without even an attempt at ambiguity.
8:45 A.M.
"Smythe, thanks for joining us." Mr. Davis said passive aggressively as Sebastian re-entered the room.
"My pleasure, sir." Sebastian replied, voice falsely charming, and watched as his transgression was instantly forgiven. "I'm humbled to be here."
"Nice one." Baker said to Sebastian, smirking. "Everyone's in love with you. It's disgusting."
"Not everyone." Sebastian said, and it was the last thing he said before the world, figuratively and retrospectively speaking, decided to end.
8:46 A.M.
Sebastian was casually glancing out of the window when he saw the smoke. He nudged Baker. "What the hell is that?"
Everyone seemed to notice Sebastian staring out of the window and they all looked as well, seeing the smoke rising and clouding up their view outside of the window.
Cue the incessant chatter. The speculation. But there was no worry. Not yet.
Sebastian shrugged, using the lull in the meeting to start scrolling through his texts. Some of them were peculiar.
What the fuck? Does anyone else see smoke coming from the fucking WTC? –Daniel Ortega.
Oh my god. Look out of your window.—Alice Trachtenberg.
Just then someone burst into the meeting room, not bothering with pleasantries that were typical of businessmen and woman alike.
"The North Tower's smoking." said the man, nothing less than urgent. "There are fumes coming from the North Tower."
Now there was worry. And Sebastian could see just behind the man's profile there were people rushing about in the hallways, all of them not in a full blown panic yet but getting there. Many of them seemed more confused than anything else.
Alarms. Muffled alarms penetrating the walls of the meeting room. Coming from outside.
Sebastian figured out of all the last days someone could hope for; his was shaping up to be the most eventful.
8:55 A.M.
"Your attention, please, ladies and gentlemen. Building 2 is secure. There is no need to evacuate building 2. If you are in the midst of evacuation, you may use the re-entry doors and the elevators to return to your office. Repeat, Building 2 is secure."
Sebastian hadn't really been evacuating anyway, but the reassurance was enough to calm down some people. Others just took it as their cue to get the hell out of the building even faster.
His mind briefly wandered to the subject of Hummel. The poor kid probably pissed his pants. Whatever, he was important. People cared about him. He was probably one of the first to be ushered out of the building, threat or no threat be damned.
9: 02 A.M.
"May I have your attention, please. Repeating this message: the situation occurred in Building 1. If conditions warrant on your floor, you may wish to start an orderly evacuation."
Kurt was having nothing short of having a full-blown panic attack. People were being evacuated, but there was nothing orderly about it. There was pushing and shouting and yelling and all he wanted to do was lock himself in a bathroom and wait it all out.
After all, they were safe. It wasn't even their building. They would all be fine.
They would be perfectly okay.
9: 03 A.M.
Roaring. An impossibly loud sound. Shaking, everything shaking, every synapse, muscle, bone, blood vessel. The very things that were keeping him together were unraveling. The sound came from above, but it felt as if it were all around.
Sebastian had been on the 76th floor when it happened. Pieces of the ceiling were coming loose and falling and he was almost one hundred percent certain that the building wasn't as safe as all had previously thought.
And for reasons unbeknownst to him his thoughts went back to Kurt. Kurt Hummel. The man who aged but was still very much the same kid Sebastian knew in high school. Overzealous, righteous, thought the world owed him something. Revolved around him. Hell, the building was his playground.
Can you take me to the top floor? I've always wanted to see the view.
And it hit Sebastian like a harsh punch in the stomach, made him almost vomit at the realization. It was very likely Kurt didn't evacuate. It was very likely his stubborn way of always getting what he wanted lead him to a higher floor.
It was very likely that he was dead.
The office windows outlooked the beautiful city that Kurt had adored since they were kids. It was that adoration of the world and everything surrounding him that killed him in the end.
And god, maybe people like Sebastian were on to something. Maybe having no hope, no future was the way to go. Curiosity killed the cat; it was natural selection.
And it made so much sense, yet he had never envisioned that kind of fate for as proud a creature as Kurt Hummel. As far as Sebastian's feeble mind was concerned, he could not see a death for him at all.
And it was the god damn maybe that plagued him. The possibility that Kurt was alive.
Kurt, who had so much to live for. His father—the Congressman, Sebastian thought absently—his ever-growing career, his friends, Blaine. And there was still a chance that he was up there.
So it was that chance that made Sebastian run in the opposite direction of the exit sign; that intuition that made him charge into the danger.
Curiosity killed the cat, but it was hope that would kill the man.
9: 05 A.M.
The heat was so intense that he thought he might have actually caught on fire, but quick glances down assured him that wasn't the case. Also, there was the fact that he wasn't in excruciating pain.
There were other men going up the stairwell, but those men were in full uniform. Fire-fighters. NYPD. And here was Sebastian, dressed smartly in an ash-gray business suit that was completely black that morning.
If it wasn't for the fact that he was suicidal he'd be super fucking pissed at Hummel for doing this to him.
He felt he was walking through a liquid, and he wasn't sure what. Water, maybe. Were they putting out some sort of fire?
But it was the acrid smell that filled his nostrils that assured it was something else. Fuel.
9: 10 A.M.
"Dad? Dad! It's Kathy. I'm fine; I'm getting out. Don't cry, Dad, I'm-"
"Have you seen a young girl? A young girl with brown hair and glasses. She's-"
"We're going to die, aren't-"
Sebastian ignored the various conversations he heard as people ushered toward a stairwell, staring at him like a mad man when he pushed past them to head in the opposite direction. None of the authority figures tried to stop him. They were too busy helping those with the will to live.
"Finn? Finn. Tell Dad I love him, okay? Can you hear me? Finn, I need you to-"
Sebastian could recognized that incessant squeaking anywhere, and even in all the confusion he found Kurt who was only a few inches away from him, standing near a window. He grabbed his wrist, startling him.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Sebastian asked incredulously as he just stood there. "Come on!"
"All of the exits are collapsed." Kurt said, voice dead. So dead it scared him.
"How do you think I got up here?" Sebastian said, and if it were the time and place he would have rolled his eyes. "Now, come on."
"There's not enough time." Kurt said, and somehow Sebastian knew he was right. By now the stairwell he used was probably too clogged with debris to even consider. And then it donned on him why Hummel was standing near a window.
"You're crazy! Out of your goddamn mind!" Sebastian said, and realized that this was it. This is the kind of thing Dr. Harding should have been treating. This was what it looked like to watch someone go insane
"Do you see another option?" Kurt demanded, voice shrill and desperate and so unlike anything Sebastian had ever heard come out of his mouth before. Gone was the hubris and the wit and everything Sebastian had grown so fond of.
He briefly thought back to something he'd heard once, about people showing their true colours in the face of death. And he couldn't help but think what bullshit that was. How dare they compare the way someone lives to the way someone dies? Whoever said that had obviously never seen death before. Not like this.
"I'll jump with you."
The words left Sebastian's mouth before he could stop them, but he realized he had meant it. Because there was no way he was letting him die alone and he saw there was no changing Kurt's mind. Stubborn. The boy had always been so wonderfully stubborn. And for a brief moment all panic left Kurt's expression; replaced with nothing but blatant offense.
The room was getting so hot. Jump or burn. Would he feel pain when he hit the ground? The general consensus was no, but how could the living be absolutely sure?
"No." Kurt said, and there he was. The boy Sebastian knew. The bull. The motherfucking bull that was so infuriating and refused to move.
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Do you want to go alone?" Sebastian asked and it seemed the reality of the situation hit Kurt because the man in front of him stifled a sob, before quickly shaking his head; reduced to an infant who had not yet learned the ways of speech.
He had trouble seeing the face in front of him due to the smoke. He extended his hand and felt Kurt grip it tightly, and that's how he made sure he was still there.
And then something unknown bubbled inside of him; a motivation; a will that he had not felt in years. So Sebastian then tugged on his hand and yanked him away from the window, ignoring his protests.
How does it feel to know the earth doesn't revolve around you?
Crushing.
This was one time Sebastian would not let Kurt have his way.
He pulled up Kurt's scarf so that it was covering his mouth and nose, hoping it would act as some sort of filter to the smoke. At this point Kurt had given up struggling and was just mindlessly following him. From what he could tell he was in some sort of state of shock. His expression was vacant.
He heard the exit before he saw it; a crowd of nine or ten people crying out hopefully as a man moved debris and opened the door to stairwell B. Sebastian ran over, helping to shuffle everyone out before dragging Kurt through the doorway, gingerly climbing through the mess.
It was as if something clicked within Kurt because he started climbing as well, assuaging Sebastian's fears of possibly having to carry him through this. Because if that had been the case neither of them would stand a chance.
Debris fell behind them, blocking off the exit to anyone else who might have been trying to escape. Their life just might have been spared, and it was a matter of seconds that could have changed the outcome entirely.
9:30 A.M.
Rescuers were ushering a group of survivors down the remaining floors, the ominous threat of the building collapsing at any moment hanging over all of them. Their lives were a game of chance.
Kurt seemed to get over his mental break-down, instead avidly following instructions in order to get himself, Sebastian, and the others to safety.
9: 40 A.M.
Kurt cried when they exited the building, actually broke down sobbing, holding onto Sebastian and burying his face into his ash covered shirt. Sebastian did not appreciate the dramatics, but it was only upon reaching up to wipe the soot from his cheeks that he realized he had been crying too.
Well, fuck. What do you know?
Maybe he was relieved to be alive, too.
9:59 A.M.
Another loud boom. The truck they were in shook violently. Sebastian chanced a glance behind him and saw nothing but smoke.
"What was that?" Kurt asked, panicked.
"Nothing." Sebastian said. "Don't worry about it."
Neither of them knew that the building they were in only twenty minutes prior had collapsed.
12: 53 A.M.
"All those people." Kurt said, watching the news report in the hospital's waiting room. Every hospital in the area was overrun, but they weren't letting any of the injured survivors leave until they were at least checked out.
The extent of Sebastian's injury was simple bruises, maybe minor burns along his fore-arm. Kurt was more or less in one piece as well, but the firemen made them wear oxygen masks on the ride there.
Sebastian watched Kurt watching the news. He need not look at the screen himself, because the expressions playing on Kurt's face—he had never been one to hide emotion—were the equivalent of looking at the horrible images firsthand.
Then suddenly Kurt's eyes turned to him.
"Thank you."
There were no words for what was exchanged between them in that moment. All humility, all pride, all shame, passion, embarrassment, jealousy, hatred, fear, fondness—every emotion ever exchanged between them, all in one, swelling and growing until it nearly choked the both of them. The intensity of it almost made Sebastian look away. Almost.
"You're welcome, Kurt."
Kurt laughed then, so broken it almost sounded like a sob.
"What?"
"You called me by my name."
Sebastian smiled.
"There's a first time for everything."
A/N: I wanted to try my hand at writing this, but I was scared to for a while. It's fickle subject matter, but I did plenty of research and wanted to be as truthful as possible. I apologize for any inconsistencies that were unintentional, but I also want to remind you that while based on very true events, this is a work of fiction.
Sincerely,
Jessy