Sebastian Smythe was no sentimentalist. He held on to few keepsakes, preferring to allow the past to slip away gracefully, rather than clinging desperately to what once was, or what might have been. He saw no need to decorate his room with pictures of happy times, particularly now that there was facebook to carry the eternal volumes of his life. No, he was a hedonist of sorts, living in the moment and never looking back. There was no point.

Then why was he here, feeling nostalgic as he watched a boy who was never even his on stage? There was no rational explanation for his venture to McKinley High's production of Grease. He did not even like the Musical. He had nearly abandoned his plan to attend twice on his drive from Westerville from Lima, ultimately convincing himself to follow through only because it was too late to make other plans on a Friday night. He practically hid his face beneath his leather trench coat, not daring to wear that trademark Dalton Blazer. Tonight, for once, he wanted to be inconspicuous, and he just about walked out of the theater when he spotted Kurt Hummel and Rachel Berry two rows ahead of him. Of course, he had heard about the shocking break-up of the deformed entity known as "Klaine," and though he hated himself for it, he could not help but feel glad. Not that he wanted Blaine anymore, of course, as having a crush on that boy for over a year would be unbecoming of a man such as Sebastian Smythe, but he liked to think he was simply reveling in the misery of the helium-voiced twink. Perhaps he should lace the boy with a well-rehearsed quip at intermission.

Watching Blaine, dressed in white on stage, however, Sebastian found his hostile feelings toward Hummel subsiding, as something in his stomach turned. He unconsciously smiled as he watched the boy on stage. For once, and likely for the only time, he found himself envious of the ski-sloped nose Sugar Motta. For a moment, Blaine almost broke character, something seeming to catch him off-guard. Sebastian allowed himself, for an equally short moment, to believe that he was the cause of that temporary misstep, though he quickly realized the true root cause sitting in front of him. Biting down on his tongue, the warm feeling inside of him dissipated, replaced by old feelings of inadequacy. Sebastian Smythe was no longer enjoying himself.

As the cast took their curtain call, led by a boy who was not nearly the Danny Zuko that Sebastian could have been, Sebastian clicked his heel and exited his seat, once again wishing only not to bump into an old unfamiliar faces. Unfortunately, he was not fortunate to realize such a wish.

"Sebastian?" a voice called to him, one he did not instinctively recall. Turning around, his eyes widened with surprise at the sight of Santana Lopez. The jig was up. He was done for now. There was no way that the girl would allow him to get away with attending a McKinley play without eviscerating him with one of her infamous tirades, before blabbing to the New Directions that he was spying on them or some other equally ridiculous theory. "I wasn't expecting to see you of all people here."

"To be honest Lopez, I was pretty shocked to see you on stage. Can't quite let that high school spotlight go, can you?" he retorted, his defenses up as he prepared for whatever retort the girl had in store for him.

"I got a call, and I came through for an old friend. What's your excuse?" Santana inquired, raising a smug eyebrow, as though she fully knew the reason.

"The picture of the guy playing Danny Zuko was pretty hot. Wanted to see if he looked as good in person. And if he's in a musical, he probably at least swings both ways," Sebastian responded, not missing a beat as he looked Santana dead in the eye.

It was a good answer, and if it were someone besides Santana it just might have worked, but the girl was smarter than that. "Then why are you running out before you have a chance to meet him?"

Sebastian opened his mouth, but for once, found himself tongue-tied. She had caught him, and that horrific smirk on her face showed she knew it too. He clenched his jaw, barely moving his lips as he replied, "Touché."

"Relax. Just admit that I was better on Smooth Criminal and maybe I won't inform all of the New Directions that your right hand is still sore from all those delusional fantasies you've had wishing Blaine could be yours," her voice practically sang the words, delighted by her triumph. Sebastian wasn't sure whether he hated her, but damn it, he had to respect her. There were not too many people who got the better of him in a verbal exchange.

"Now who has delusional fantasies?" he replied. There was a moment of silence between them, before he finally caved. He did not want to give any of them the pleasure of knowing he still wanted Blaine, "You were better," he said through gritted teeth.

"I sure was I had a tape recorder under my boob again so the whole damn world could hear you admit it," Santana beamed, before her face turned slightly softer, almost kind, "But at least he's single this time Sebastian. If you are that interested, then go talk to him. The worst he can do is reject you. And make no mistake, he probably will, but at least you'll have tried.

"I know better than to try and stand in the way of the infamous 'Klaine.' I'm sure they'll get back together."

"Fuck Klaine. The last I checked, this was still high school. People change their relationship status more than they change their sheets. Grow a pair, Sebastian. Just go congratulate him on a passable performance. He probably needs some encouragement after his run-in with Kurt. The asshole showed up unannounced and totally threw Blaine off his game right before the show. He came to me looking for comfort of all people. I would have kicked him in the balls if he didn't look so pathetic."

Sebastian let her words sink in for a moment before he nodded his head. She was right, after all. He was Sebastian Smythe. He should be able to talk to a handsome boy after everything he had done. "Thanks," he told Santana. The Warbler turned to leave, but paused for a moment, turning back around to look at Santana. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

"I'm a very gracious winner."

"It's confusing."

"Yeah. I wouldn't get used too used to it if I were you."

"I wouldn't have a delusional fantasy of it," he quipped before turning to walk down the hall, searching for Blaine. He spotted him, chasing after Kurt, and his heart sank. He was too slow. This was the moment the couple would get back together and he would be forced to watch. He almost walked way, feeling as though his stomach would spew forth vomit if he had to suffer through such an ordeal, when he saw Kurt leaving, and Blaine wasn't chasing after him. Instead, the gelled one was simply watching sadly as Kurt exited. Santana was right. He looked pathetic.

Allowing a few moments to pass by, Sebastian slowly began walking toward Blaine, ensuring that his footsteps were loud so the boy was not startled by his presence. Tapping Blaine's shoulder, he began, "Hey kille-" before Sebastian could even finish the word, Blaine flung to him, wrapping his arms around Sebastian's torso like a toddler hugs his mother.

Sebastian was not good with emotional matters, or being sensitive to others, but even he could tell when someone was so totally gutted that they just needed someone to hold on to. He knew at the moment that he was not special, that Blaine would have reacted in such a manner to literally anyone who had come up to him, but for once he did not care. If this was what Blaine needed, then Sebastian would provide it. He patted Blaine's back, trying to be soothing, though he felt terribly awkward. "It'll be okay," he managed to say, as Blaine's buried his head in Sebastian's shoulder.

A sinking feeling swelled inside his stomach as he had a horrible realization. When it came to Blaine Anderson, he would always be sentimental.