Author's Comments: Okay, I know I should be working on A Night of Neglect, but this damn plot bunny was infecting my mind and I just couldn't get this bastard to leave, so I had to write it down on here. Basically, I've wanted to do a story featuring my two favorite Glee characters: Sebastian Smythe and Tina Cohen-Chang. OMG they would be adorable BFFs, right? Sebastina FTW! This fic is mostly Sebastian-centric since my last fic is Tina-centric. I don't know when I'll be updating it, but I'm going to try and do both ANON and this fic. It's really angsty, and I hope I don't get too overdramatic and if I do, please tell me. I don't want it to be like how I characterized Blaine in my last story as some sobbing mess (although, that was funny). I'm not really sure what will happen, the story normally just comes out as soon as I put my fingers on the keyboard. The pairings right now are undetermined. Sebastian can be with anyone: Sam, Puck, Finn, Kurt, Blaine, or even Santana. Tina will probably break-up with Mike in this story, as much as I like Tike, I'm not a big shipper of it or any canon couples for that matter. Crackshipper for life.

Summary: Following the Finn photo scandal, Sebastian Smythe loses everything in a single night. He gets kicked out of Dalton and worse, his father kicks him out of the house. Forced to live with his religious and homophobic aunt over in Lima, Sebastian now must attend McKinley High School, the pit of his very own personal hell. There, he faces bullying by the hockey team, dumpster dives, locker shoves, and the ever-infamous slushie facials. New Directions treat him coldly, and revel in the karma that he had coming. Miserable and alone, Sebastian feels he should give up, until one day Tina finds him in a vulnerable state and decides to befriend him. Although cautious, Sebastian finds an unexpected bond with Tina, and they go through the best and worst of times together as best friends.

Warnings: This fic is rated M because of strong language, some vulgar conversations about sex, possible underage alcohol use, and other suggestive content. It may contain a sex scene or two later on. If homosexuality makes you uncomfortable, then don't read this fanfiction. Instead, take that precious time to hang your homophobic head in shame and think about what a horrible person you are.

Chapter One

Sebastian Smythe couldn't believe this was happening. It all happened so fast that he never took much time to register it all. It was just a joke; a stupid bluff. He wasn't really going to do it, so he didn't see the big deal in it all. The Dean of Dalton Academy had warned him after the slushie-gate that any more misconduct and there would be serious consequences. Naturally, being the smirking, cocky little bastard that he was, Sebastian didn't really pay attention and shrugged it off. All he knew was that he had beaten the system, the so-called 'zero-tolerance' on bullying, and he was feeling like the king of the world.

That all came crashing down the week before Regionals, a few days after Sebastian had met up with Rachel Berry and Kurt Hummel at the Lima Bean with a "scandalous" photo of Rachel's fiancé, Finn Hudson, in the nude wearing very tacky pink pumps. The photo, of course was fake, but Sebastian's aggressive and manipulative nature somehow managed to make the hollow threat seem a lot worse than it really was. Those little misfit toys at that joke choir, Nude Erections, went to Dean Whitaker with this information, and Sebastian had found himself sitting opposite to the Dean with his stern-looking father, State's Attorney Andrew Smythe, by his side.

Sebastian was never one to be scared, but he had to admit that being in the Dean's office a second time with his father had made him a little nervous. However, if his father ever taught him anything, it was never show weakness. So Sebastian kept his face stoic as he heard what the Dean had to say. His father, to say the least, was not impressed with what he had to hear from the short, balding man in front of him. Although Andrew Smythe did not show an ounce of emotion on his face, Sebastian could sense that his father was livid, and for once, he was scared. Scared of what his father will do...to him.

What completely came out of the blue was what Dean Whitaker had to say next. He didn't hear the sentence, but he did catch the words "expulsion" and "effective immediately." Apparently, threatening to post nude photos, fake or not, on the Internet in an attempt to get a rival show choir to bow out of a competition is considered "show choir terrorism," and that was probably the dumbest thing Sebastian had ever heard. Nevertheless, his expulsion was imminent and that was that.

His father looked at his son with a cold look. His father had already given him a lot of flak for Sebastian's homosexuality (because in his father's mind, being a homosexual just made you seem like a pussy), his constant relationships with other men, some of whom were much older than him, his constant late night bar-hopping, and his participation in a show choir. He even let the fact that Sebastian had almost blinded another student go. This, however, was the last straw.

The ride home was painfully silent. Not a word was said between the two Smythes. Sebastian never once looked at his father, and Andrew never once looked at his son. By the time they finally got home to their mansion house, Andrew demanded for Sebastian to take a seat in the kitchen. Not wanting to argue, Sebastian did what he was told and tried to remain calm. Sebastian figured that if he smooth-talked his father a bit, that he could get off with a simple punishment, like no TV or no going out or no car for a month would suffice for the now-former Warbler. A long time had passed, and Sebastian had heard a faint voice in the next room and assumed that his father was talking on the phone, probably with his campaign manager to apologize for missing a day to attend the Dean's office. His father eventually walked into the kitchen with a bottle of scotch and a glass in hand, looking annoyed.

"Sebastian," his father said, uncharacteristically calm, "We need to discuss a few things."

"I completely agree," Sebastian said coolly. "I think that I deserve to be revoked of my privileges for a month or two months, whichever."

"I don't think so."

Sebastian raised his eyebrows in surprise, still with a calm face. He almost smirked, but caught himself. Maybe he could get off without a single punishment. He decided to play it cool. "Oh?"

Andrew nodded his head as he took a long sip of his drink and sat across from his son and shot him a glare. This took Sebastian by surprise, but again, he did not show emotion. "Yes, I don't think it's a good idea to take away your car or your TV or whatever things you're used to."

"Really?"

"Yes, Sebastian. I think I've taught you all that I can and while I can definitely see a little bit of myself in you, your goals, however, are what I would call misguided." Another long sip. "Sebastian, your actions lately have really taken me by surprise. First of all, I never accepted your little phase of being gay. It's not normal and I really don't know why I ever let you indulge in such abnormalities." Sebastian was internally angry. He didn't care about what his father thought of his "lifestyle," but he hated it when he talked to him like some business partner he was about to let go. "But I let you do what you want, in hopes that you'd be able to get everything out of the way. When you joined that stupid choir of yours, I almost laughed."

Sebastian's eyes darkened. The Warblers were not stupid. Sebastian made sure they were ten times better than when Blaine Anderson was leading them. Blaine. Sebastian hated him and at the same time wanted to bang him into the mattress like no other. He may have been an innocent kid with a stupid hair-do and an even stupider fashion sense, but he was hot and Sebastian wanted to tap that. Just for one night, then he could send him back to that little gay face, Kurt Hummel. Blech. Sebastian didn't know how someone as hot as Blaine could be with somebody as... well, someone like Kurt. And he actually had the nerve to deny his advances in favor of being a "loyal boyfriend" to that transvestite? What a crock of bullshit.

Sebastian was pulled out of his thoughts by his father when he commenced with his little speech. "Then these little incidents started occurring," Mr. Smythe continued, "First that Anderson boy almost getting blinded—I had to pay for his medical expenses just to shut his parents up—and then this? You threatened a girl, an ugly one at that, with fake pictures of her fiancé just so they could forfeit your little singing competition?" A bigger sip this time. "If you're going to commit extortion, Sebastian, do it for the worthwhile people and for the worthwhile prizes. This was just pathetic." A horrible sneer on his father's face appeared.

Routinely, his father always expressed some kind of disappointment and Sebastian would pretend like he cared what the man thought. Still, he kept his cool and finally spoke with a confident smirk on his face. "So what happens now?"

He was starting to get bored, and if his father wasn't going to take his privileges away, he might as well drown out this bad day with a few bottles of beer and a hot twink down at Scandals.

"I'm glad you asked," his father replied, "Because I want you to pack up as many things as you can and get out of this house."

And for the first time ever in his life, he faltered. For years, he perfected his father's poker face, never once showing emotion for even the most dastardly of deeds. One time, when he was eight, he pushed a kid, Jacob Goodall, off the jungle gym during recess because the jungle gym was his to play with and his alone. He didn't show a single ounce of emotion for Jacob when had to get seven stitches on his head after he fell face first into the gravel. He was unapologetic, and that wasn't ever going to change. But now, Sebastian found himself losing his poker face.

"I-I'm sorry?"

"You heard me."

Instinctively, Sebastian let out a small chuckle. "This is a joke, right?"

"Do I look like I'm joking, young man?" His father all but yelled.

Oh, God. Oh, God, no! Not the Voice! Sebastian hated the Voice. If there was anything in the world that scared the cold-hearted Sebastian Smythe, it was the Voice. It was the same voice his father used only when he was truly angry with him. He had been terrified of that voice since the Goodall incident. When he had gotten home that day, his father, drink in hand, scolded him with that voice. He remembered when his dad roughly grabbed him by his left arm and bent him over his knee. Most kids, after being bad, would get spanked and feel a stinging sensation on their bottoms which were left with a red handprint. But not Sebastian. When Sebastian was on his father's knee, his father hit him hard with an open palm on his lower back, and it hurt so badly. There was no red handprint or slight stinging sensation, but a fat purple bruise and a throbbing pain.

And to make matters worse, his little arm was being twisted during the punishment, leaving a nasty yellowish bruise on his underdeveloped bicep. His father's knee had dug into his ribs the entire time, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. As with any kid, he wailed like a newborn child and that's when his father used the Voice again.

"Stop crying! Babies cry! Are you a baby?" his father had shouted to him, before smacking the young Sebastian on the jaw. "Stop crying! Do you hear me?"

Young Sebastian clamped his hands over his mouth in an attempt to stop his uncontrollable sobbing. He was in so much pain that he could barely breathe and he was shuddering so much from behind his little fingers. When his father was not satisfied by his son's constant blubbering, he hit him one more time on his hip, earning a small squeal of pain, but effectively shutting up the young boy.

"Now, you're not going to be acting like that again, are you?" Andrew asked his son, who shook his head wildly. "You are a Smythe, and Smythe's don't behave that way; do you understand?" Sebastian nodded his head before his father let him run off to his room.

That voice. That horrible voice was probably the only thing that truly scared him. It was like in that Stephen King novel, It. If the monster in that book took the form of Sebastian's greatest fear, it wouldn't be a killer clown or mummy or a teen werewolf, it would be his father using only that voice. It had been a long time since his dad had ever talked to him that way, so hearing it for the first time almost made Sebastian cry right in front of him. But crying in front of his father would only anger him even more, and he'd feel lousy and feel like an even bigger disappointment than he already was.

"W-what? I don't—I don't understand," Sebastian said, finally showing his emotions. "You're kicking me out?"

"That is exactly what I'm doing."

"B-but... Dad—"

"Shut up," his father snarled, "I don't want to hear your smart mouth. You're going to enroll in public school over in Lima. I just got off the phone with your Aunt Maggie and I convinced her—with my wallet, of course—to let you stay at her house until you graduate next year."

Sebastian wanted to throw up. His Aunt Maggie was crazy religious and an unpleasant woman to be around. If his father was considered homophobic, she was ten times worse. When he first came out at fourteen, his aunt offered to send him to a "correction camp" to "fix" him. At Thanksgiving dinner, she would always be the one to say grace and made sure to mention to God to have mercy on her "brother's son's soul for his abnormality," which embarrassed him and his father to no end. His dad was more embarrassed because of him, than his sister's antics, because why should he get mad at her for Sebastian's wrong-doing, right? During Christmas time, she always bought extravagant gifts for her nieces and nephews and neglected to get anything nice for Sebastian, and instead gave him brochures for the straight camps or little Jesus figurines which Sebastian had lots of fun breaking with his BB gun. He would've loved nothing more than to spit in his horrid aunt's face and tell her to fuck off, but never did because his dad would get mad at him and use the Voice again.

"D-dad, don't do this," Sebastian almost sobbed out.

Rolling his eyes, Andrew got up from the table to refill his glass. "Sebastian, I don't really know the protocol for this type of situation, but let me put it to you in layman's terms: You are not my son anymore. Pack as much of your shit as you can and wait in the living room. Your aunt will be here in about an hour."

Sebastian sat in his seat, stunned. It wasn't until his father got frustrated and slammed his hand on the table, startling his former son out of his daze. "NOW SEBASTIAN!" It was the Voice again, and Sebastian found himself on auto-pilot, jumping to his feet and running to his bedroom.

When he got there, he stared at his room with watery eyes. It was much larger than any normal teenager's bedroom and practically screamed "spoiled rich kid." It was also uncommonly clean. Their former maid, Rosalita, was wonderful at her job, which almost made Sebastian feel bad for having her deported after she had found his twink magazines and showed them to his father. Almost.

Sebastian wanted nothing more than to jump into his bed, pull the covers over his head and forget this day ever happened. But he couldn't. He was being thrown out of his own home. It finally registered to him that yesterday night was the very last night he slept in this bed, with it's amazing satin sheets and duvet, and wonderfully soft. For a guy who's on his back very often, this was the perfect bed to fuck in. He wasn't going to be sneaking in any more slutty boys into his room anymore. Those days are over.

After letting the initial shock pass through, Sebastian finally started packing his things. He started with the essentials like his laptop and plug, his iPod, his Blackberry phone (was his dad going to cut that off, too?), and his toothbrush, then he started taking other, more personal things like his trophies from his days on the polo and lacrosse teams, his academic awards and photos of him shaking the National Honor Society department head's hand. His scholastic achievements were definitely something to be envied by the other Dalton boys. He was going places.

Holy shit! His expulsion from Dalton will go on his permanent record! No college university will take him now. He was supposed to go to Harvard and study law, get a degree, and become one of the top lawyers in the country. And he was going to be so rich that hundreds of slutty boys were going to be on their knees, begging him to sleep with them. But that was all a fantasy now. His future was fucked. He was fucked. In less than twenty-four hours, his entire life was ruined...

And it was all his fault. He did this to himself. Karma came at him like a fucking bitch and he deserved every second of it.

Fat tears spilled from his alluring green eyes as he packed up his clothes, starting from his casual wear to his nicer outfits that he wore when he went out to Scandals. He had about half an hour left, so he decided to check out his Facebook as an outlet from reality. He didn't want to post his thoughts or make some snarky updates because he just wasn't in the mood, so he settled on checking out the daily lives of his 2,341 friends on Facebook. Hey, he can't help it if he's popular. Scrolling through the news feed, one currently active post caught his eye.

Thad "TheBad" Harwood to Trent Nixon
dude! did you hear what happened to sebastian?
Like - Comment
(Nicholas Duval, Trent Nixon and 104 others like this)
Nicholas Duval: I heard! Serves the bastard right (80 people like this)
Jeffrey Anthony Sterling: Nick, be nice
Nicholas Duval: Come on, babe. It's no secret how much everyone hates him (54 people like this)
Jeffrey Anthony Sterling: It's still mean :(
Thad "TheBad" Harwood: nick's right, jeff. seb's a totall asshole. no one likes him and everyone says stuff about him when he's not looking (42 people like this)
Trent Nixon: I am laughing right now. Total karma. (77 people like this)
Thad "TheBad" Harwood: especially after what he did to blaine. poor guy (22 people like this)
Sebastian Smythe: You realize I can see this, don't you? Genius.
Trent Nixon: I'm sorry, Sebastian, but we should've told you this a long time ago. (13 people like this)
Trent Nixon: You are a bully and a tyrant and I am happy you are a gone. (102 people like this)
Sebastian Smythe: Trent, you have a cat named Dutchess Chubbyburg and you look like a gay Chris Farley in a monkey suit. Don't give me shit.
Trent Nixon: Fuck you! You were never anyone's friend! (99 people like this)
Thad "TheBad" Harwood: yeah sebastin your a jerk and deserve what you get (76 people like this)
Sebastian Smythe: And you have horrible typing skills. Seriously, this is Facebook, not an IM chat. No need to type like a retard.
Jeffrey Anthony Sterling: Sorry about what happened Seb :( (1 person likes this)
Nicholas Duval: Jeff don't apologize to him! He's a total dick. (32 people like this)
Sebastian Smythe: At least my dick is getting some. Jeffy's not putting out for you Nick.
Nicholas Duval: Screw you Sebastian! Jeff was the only one here that was nice to you and you're going to call him out like that? For once in your life, stop being an asshole! (82 people like this)

Sebastian was ready to come back with another response until his comment didn't go through, and he realized that Trent had effectively blocked him from his Facebook. So much for his outlet from reality. Those power-bottom twinks were all phonies. At least Sebastian was never afraid to speak his mind and tell it like it is. How can they all be so fake to him? Worst he could do to them was have their parents canned from their jobs and black-list them all over Ohio. Other than that, they shouldn't be afraid to be honest with him, right? Damn them. He didn't know why it hurt learning all this, about how they really felt. It shouldn't. He never really liked them. Still, he couldn't help the small tracks of tears going down his face.

If his father saw him now, he would really get an earful—Wait a minute. Is Andrew still his father? Was he even a Smythe anymore? Was he forever to be known as Sebastian Andrew Nobody? This was all too much to take in. He couldn't stand it. Why is this happening? Why can't they just give him one more chance? Maybe he can go downstairs and convince his dad to give him one last chance.

Sebastian sighed to himself, defeated. That would never work. Once Andrew Smythe decided on something, he was never going to change his mind. His father never did anything rash without mulling it over first, so if Andrew was going to kick his former son out of the house, he had been thinking about it for a while. So did that mean he was already planning this? Did he already know that Sebastian was going to screw up like this? Or was he waiting for the perfect opportunity? The right reason to kick him out? If so, this was as good of a chance as any.

"W-why?" Sebastian begged out loud to nothing. No one could hear his pleas. "P-please. Please, let this be a dream."

A faint honking could be heard just outside, and Sebastian looked out of his window to see his Aunt Maggie's pale-beige Imapla; a disgusting color for a car that nice. His father's booming voice called out to him, and then reality finally sunk in. This was it. This was the last time he'd ever see his room, his house, his neighborhood. He was going to the pit of hell that was Lima. The shit stain of Ohio. The shark tank for a wounded fish like him. His entire life was slipping away.

He carried his things down the stairs. His father was standing by the door way, arms crossed. If he felt anything, any remorse for his former son, he didn't show it. He kept it well-hidden. Unlike Sebastian, his father never falters. Even in the worst of times. Sebastian took small steps toward the exit, passing the gigantic living room that he'd never see again, past the many art collections and paintings that he'd never be able to admire again, and past the portrait of his family, which actually looked more emotionless and distant than what was originally intended.

He turned to his dad and leaned in to hug him. "Bye dad."

A hand went to his chest and roughly shoved him away. "Fags hug. Unlike you, I'm not a fag," his father said coldly. "Don't call or come back, you'll upset your mother."

That was like taking a knife to the gut. It hurt like nobody's business and he had to live with that for the rest of his life. He left the house for the final time and walked down the stone steps toward his aunt's car which had its trunk open. Her face was caked with too much make-up and she wore a fake blonde wig and a bright red dress. On her neck was a gold chain with a big, ugly cross on it. She looked at him with fake pity, though inside, Sebastian knew she didn't feel bad for him at all. She probably expected it to happen sooner or later. Bitch.

"Hurry up, it's getting late," she snapped as she got back into her car. When he was done, he got into the passenger's seat, put his seatbelt on, and let his mind go numb.

Author's Comments: There it is. What did you guys think? Hope you liked and read A Night of Neglect on my profile.