1:39 A.M. / April 30th
Pardon the utter disregard of punctuation, misuse of capitalization, and horridly vivid profanity, dearest diary, but.
um what thef uck i just had a dream A WET ONE NOT NORMAL OKAY LET' SMAkE THAT CLEAR about HUMMEL GAY FACE FUCKIGN I DOn'T EVEN Know HIS NAMMMMEEEEE KURT WHATEVER and it was him and his face and his body which was, here's the funny part, which was adorned in a french maid outfit ahah HAHAHA HA HA ISn'T THAT SOMETHING so i had a sex dream about fuckign kurtj fucking hummel ina french maid outfit,,,,,, agiaisnthe the wall might i add ah ha haah
Now, I will take a long, hot bath and I will not think about this any longer. Okay. Good. SHITtttttttkfkuckkkkkkkk
/
Sebastian Smythe is having a horrendous day and he lets the nerdy little twink in his fourth hour know and understand this by making him cry within fifteen seconds of their interaction. He smiles after, petting the kid's stupid, red hair, and he feels considerably better. He doesn't even remember that last night- No, he berates himself, smile now entirely forced, no, no, no, stop right there. He attempts to regather the semblance of happiness he had just now acquired and comes up blank. And, curiously horny.
"Smythe!"
Jeff's ridiculously bright hair is the first thing he sees before Jeff's ridiculously bright smile. Both make him nauseous. Still, he stops and waits until Jeff shuffles up the hallway. He takes a minute to catch his breath before saying, "Dude, Warbler meeting in like five. I think they're thinking of a song they can back Blaine up with for when Kurt graduates or something. Come on!"
He yells that last part into Sebastian's face like it's wonderful news and it's not. In usual circumstances, Sebastian would very well let Jeff know this but now he's thinking about Kurt and how the Jeff's shoulder-bag has the same color theme as Kurt's french maid outfit. Great. Sebastian clears his throat and simply follows along as Jeff all but skips down the hallway.
On arriving at the practice room, he notices Blaine catching up with his friends and feels somehow incredibly guilty.
"Sebastian! Come here," Blaine says, way too warm for someone he nearly blinded but hey, and Sebastian has to restrain himself from blurting out all of his dirty, dirty deeds.
They slap hands and Blaine is sucked back into the Warblers' frenzy.
Sebastian takes a seat and suddenly wonders if Kurt and Blaine ever roleplay. He squirms in his seat and wishes he could please just die.
/
Tuesday morning brings, with its sunshine and kind of decent Lima Bean service, Kurt Hummel right in front of his tired eyes. He blinks up at Kurt's glare/smirk and his jaw sort of slacks, because you see, Tuesday morning brought sunshine but only around Kurt's immediate presence. Sebastian chuckles, delirious from the lack of sleep, and Kurt shifts back a little, his glare slipping from 'I despise your existence' to 'oh my god, ew' in about two seconds.
"Are you okay?"
Sebastian decides that Kurt and Blaine deserve each other. They're both idiotically naive and forgiving. Blaine made the Warblers forgive Sebastian and Kurt stood up for Karofsky, the closet case that molested him and then threatened to kill him. Fools.
"Perfectly fine, thanks for asking," he responds in the iciest tone he can manage, which turns out to be not icy at all, but whatever, okay, he tried.
Kurt's eyes are a ridiculous, bright, bright blue and Sebastian thinks he might weep to his electronic, non-comforting diary about them later. As long as his newfound... thoughts stay within the confines of his room, he's all set. Kurt is none the wiser and Blaine is his usual dopey, gentlemanly self. The disturbing thoughts about running a hand up Kurt's thigh, stopping at his ass, well. Those will continue to be very privates thoughts.
"You look like a dead meerkat that has been sprinkled generously with a dull sensen of fashion all over its very sad carcass of sad, dead meerkat," Kurt says, in an awfully chirpy voice, and Sebastian is for the first time in his life at a loss for words simply because he's so tired and Kurt is most definitely not. Which is unfair, just like everything else in this big, stupid universe.
There's a long, uncomfortable pause, during which Kurt looks guilty, like he thinks he went too far, and Sebastian wonders why Kurt isn't wearing speedos. Oh right, that's not real. That's just the sick, vivid dream he had last night. Oh, right.
"Well, see you around," Kurt says, hastily making his retreat but giving Sebastian ample enough time to stare at his ass.
5:08 A.M. / May 2nd
I have taken up Yoga classes and Mother was very happy about this. She is, as you know, quite easily pleased. Father, however, glared at the newspaper and ignored our existence. Nothing new there. As to why I'm typing this out at this hour of the day, I woke up a few minutes ago because I didn't have a single dream last night or if I did, I don't recall it.
So you see, I am in an exceptionally giddy mood so I signed up for Yoga classes, interrupted my parents' breakfast to inform them of this, and then I laughed.
For two whole minutes. I stood in the middle of my room and laughed. This will be a good day.
/
He's having a bad day. Masochistically, he dropped by the Lima Bean to grab a cup of coffee, spilt said cup directly onto Kurt's very nice, very much designer clothes, and then spent the first two hours of school in the mall with Kurt, where he pointed at various things he did not think Sebastian could afford. And, then he made Sebastian buy all of those things with a stupid, pretty,dumb smile on his stupid, pretty face.
"Now, Smythe, repeat after me: I will not ruin things for Kurt Hummel."
Sebastian is distracted because Kurt was sort of wearing really, really tight jeans that technically Sebastian bought so technically he's allowed to stare as much as he damn well pleases. He grunts in agreement and Kurt clears his throat pointedly, hands on his hips and lips pursed. Sebastian glances up and then looks away.
"Well, tell Blaine I said 'you're welcome'," he says, raising a fist to sort of graze the general air around Kurt's shoulder, and he tries to maintain eye-contact as Kurt gives him an invasively sharp look.
"What's wrong with you?" Kurt asks, wrapping his arms around his waist in this nervous little motion, and Sebastian needs to get outside, breathe some fresh, Kurt-less air.
"Nothing's wrong with me, Wonder-woman. I just don't enjoy being indebted to little boys that could pass as elderly women."
He walks off with that, mock-saluting, and tries not to cringe at the way Kurt's hold on himself tightens and how his eyes dim. Because, you see, Sebastian Smythe doesn't care about either of those two actions and is now going to spend the rest of his day ignoring his friends and overdosing on coffee, thanks so very much.
/
Everything is red.
Sebastian looks down and his jacket is bright, bright red, and the lockers he's leaning against are red. There are abandoned, red pompoms on the floor where every alternative tile is, what do you know, red. His head is spinning and he thinks he might throw up if it weren't for this strange sense of victory in his chest. He just won a game. He remembers hard, affectionate slaps against his helmet and soft, blue eyes.
"Congratulations, Sebastian. You're a school hero."
His head snaps up towards the whimsical voice and there's Kurt Hummel, skimpily clad as a Cheerio. A girl Cheerio. He's smiling, his hands behind his back, one leg bent, foot flat against the wall behind him, and he looks so, so very pretty. His skirt doesn't do much to hide his smooth, pale thighs, and from the dirty look he's giving Sebastian, he supposes that's exactly what's supposed to be happening.
"Why, thank you," Sebastian says, smiling softly, and he cants his hips just a little to the side, feels satisfied when Kurt's eyes flicker down the catch the motion.
"I wanted to give you something for doing such a great job," Kurt says, looking down coyly, fingers playing with the hems of his skirt, "but, I don't know if you want it."
Sebastian grins and says, "Well, sweetheart, why don't you leave that up to me?"
"Come here, then."
He pushes off the wall and walks up to Kurt, looking down at him with a gentle expression. He runs his fingers across Kurt's cheek, watches with fascination as they color as though he had painted them, and he catches Kurt's gasp with his mouth. The kiss turns hungry right away, and Sebastian whines pitifully as he tries to press his body right into Kurt's. Kurt hitches a leg around his hips and Sebastian grabs the other, hoists it up, until he's the only thing keeping Kurt from falling.
"God, fuck me," Kurt says, moaning utter filth, and Sebastian slips a hand under his too-little uniform. He twists a cute, little nipple and awes at the sound it yanks out of Kurt, and oh-
Jesus fuck
2:29 A.M. / May 5th
Well.
So, Blaine telling me about Kurt being a Cheerio wasn't a good idea.
Neither was looking that 4 Minutes performance up on youtube.
Lesson duly learned.
/
It turns out that just because Sebastian is having some sort of crisis, Kurt Hummel is perfectly fine and spends his evenings cooing over Blaine and his stupid, adorable face. Sebastian spends those same evenings glaring across the table and slowly dying. Since Sebastian came out with his big, song-filled apology about everything he's done and since he expressed his deepest regrets about Karofsky's situation, Blaine and Kurt have decided to adopt him as their child.
Which works out great because now it's like he's having sex dreams about his pseudo-father. Because Sebastian really needed more motives to bang his head against the wall.
"Seb, haven't you been sleeping?" Kurt asks, his face scrunched up in concern and his fingers rubbing slow circles on Blaine's knuckles, and Sebastian sort of wants to lunge across the table to yank his hand away.
"I have, Casper. Don't suppose you've had the same pleasures," he says, making a vaguely suggestive gesture while indicating the two of them as though the thought sickens him. And, it does, but for entirely inappropriate reasons.
He looks away when Kurt smiles sweetly before turning to kiss Blaine on the lips.