Title: Close To Nothing
Author: an-alternate-world
Rating: M
Characters/Pairing: Sebastian Smythe/Blaine Anderson
Word Count: 1,823
Summary: Seblaine Week 2015: Day 1 (Post-Glee) It's been a little over nine years, but the moment he sees a familiar set of eyes, he's frozen to the spot. His eyes are wide. His mouth is a little agape. And then he moves. They both do.
Warnings/Spoilers: Canonical and past character death.
Disclaimer: I am in no way associated with Glee, FOX, Ryan Murphy, or anything else related to the FOX universe.
Author's Note: I wrote this story approximately eighteen months ago. It's been edited and re-edited and edited again and seems suitable to post for Day 1 of Seblaine Week. It has already been written and divided into six chapters, which will be posted each Sunday for the next six weeks. As such, most of the events in Glee Season 6 are disregarded.
The title is drawn from Taylor Henderson's 'Close To Nothing'.
"That sting of
remembrance
in the back of
your heart –
it will come and
go until you learn
to differentiate
between closure
and disguised denial."
- Noor Shirazie
It's been a little over nine years. His senior year is well and truly finished. He graduated with a degree in law and business and now he's attending grad school for business – he'd never really been sure about law. His life has found a rhythm he's not sure he's comfortable with, but it's one that keeps him moving through the days with unerring regularity.
Yet the moment he sees a familiar set of eyes, he's frozen to the spot. His eyes are wide. His mouth is a little agape.
People cross the road in front of him, rushing to appointments or lunch. They search for cabs or other people they're meeting. He just stands still. A few people bump into him with polite apologies, others swear or grunt, but it's like his feet have been bolted to the sidewalk.
He's not the only one standing still, though.
Eventually the spell breaks, he moves – they both do – meeting in the middle of the road despite blaring horns and shouted exclamations and Sebastian cups his hand around Blaine's elbow and steers him to the sidewalk Blaine had just left. They end up walking down the street to a place that's slightly less crammed with jostling people, where Blaine gets trapped between a wall and Sebastian's body because he's about to demand the closure he hasn't had for nine years.
He'd imagined a thousand different scenarios of what he'd do if he saw the smaller boy again. More than half had included a dismissive tilt of his head and turning away.
He supposes this is why he shouldn't imagine things in his head so often. The person in front of him isn't a boy anymore but a man.
"Hello, Sebastian," Blaine says, his voice soft and the lines around his eyes reflecting his guarded stance. Sebastian realises he's holding Blaine's elbow and forces his fingers to let go, lowering his hand to his side.
"Blaine," he acknowledges, but his lips don't lift into a smile. He's fairly sure his intestines have wriggled into a figure eight around his stomach and heart, squeezing the two organs closer together, crushing his appetite and his emotions into a ball of agony in his torso.
"Why did you stop answering my messages?" blurs with "Why did you ask me to help you propose?" and both of them end up pausing, the silence stretching into something awkward that makes Sebastian's skin crawl. The two questions are linked in his mind, and it terrifies him that Blaine could link them too.
"I know how much Hummel means to you. I knew how jealous he was when I would text or call you." Sebastian can only hope his own jealousy isn't as audible as the taste of it is on his tongue, that his chest isn't being carved open and exposed to a certain level of vulnerability that Blaine will stab at repeatedly. It's easy to imagine himself sitting on the sidewalk while his heart and soul bleed along the sidewalk. "Once you were engaged, I thought it best to back off."
His gaze focuses on the bricks behind Blaine's head, at a particular brick that had been chipped to expose more of the greyed concrete which holds the structure together. Blaine's eyes had always been his undoing. He needs to avoid them if he has any chance of maintaining his composure.
"Sebastian…" A hesitant hand touches his arm and it sends warmth and electricity and cold through him all at once. Even after all this time, Blaine stirs something in him that he's never been able to properly comprehend and understand.
He can't take the feelings that the point of contact stirs in him and deftly moves his own hand to remove it. He doesn't even realise he's holding the back of Blaine's left hand until it registers that Sebastian has moved his own left hand to remove it.
He realises Blaine's ring finger is empty probably around the same time that Blaine spots the ring on Sebastian's hand.
"You- Y-You're married?"
Sebastian hates how utterly astonished Blaine sounds, like Sebastian Smythe wasn't capable of a committed relationship. Perhaps if Blaine had realised he could have relationships, there could have been-
No. It doesn't matter.
Not anymore.
Despite the tone of his voice, Sebastian can't really understand the expression on Blaine's face. There's something in the shine of his eyes, the set of his lips, the muscle near his jaw that pops every time Blaine grinds his teeth together, which contradict one another.
It finally registers that he's still holding Blaine's hand, and he drops it. The lack of ring and tan line on Blaine's hand is obvious. He tries to keep his expression neutral. He also doesn't answer the question. There's no need. The question could have been rhetorical because the ring is there. It's a wedding band, not an engagement ring. Blaine was smart enough to know the difference.
Besides, Blaine had proposed once. He'd pushed a ring on Hummel's finger while people threw rose petals over them and Sebastian tried not to throw up his breakfast. If anyone knew what a ring on a left finger symbolised, it's the brunette male in front of him.
"Congratulations," Blaine says, and there's something that tugs at his chest, something a little sad in Blaine's eyes, that makes him want to explain.
But he doesn't. He's explained enough, which isn't much at all, and Blaine still hasn't answered his question. He's starting to think Blaine never will. The closure he's always needed will remain out of reach, and the festering wound beneath his skin will be ripped open for the world to see again.
"Look, I'm on a lunch break. It was nice seeing you again." It's a lie, and he's pretty sure Blaine can tell, but the boy – no, man – doesn't say anything to contradict him. "Take care of yourself."
He turns, freeing Blaine from where his back has been pressed against the wall. He takes three long strides back to the bustling street before he feels a hand on his elbow, pulling him back.
"Sebastian."
Blaine's voice is firm and he glances over his shoulder, finding Blaine's eyes are looking away from his face. It's another mess of mixed signals, where Blaine has a controlled voice and an anxious set of eyes. It scares Sebastian that he can't read the man in front of him anymore. It used to be so easy with the innocent bright eyes, the flushed swollen cheeks, the embarrassed half-smile which always sent his heart racing. He doesn't know how to react to this Blaine, who is careful and cautious and composed to the point of being a stranger.
He supposes his own lack of bright eyes and easy smirk has left Blaine feeling out of sorts as well, but he doesn't want to think about that too much.
"Take care of yourself," Sebastian repeats, as if he hadn't been heard the first time. It was a dismissal, an attempt at being kind to Blaine's feelings without being in any way personal. He tries to wrench his arm away but tan fingers close sharper, harder, firmer into his arm.
"Call me." Blaine forces a card into the pocket of his pants, and Sebastian finds himself wondering what the male does that means he has a business card.
Before he can really think about it, the hand on his elbow is gone and Blaine has walked past him to rush across the road, weaving between traffic like a New York expert, and turned a corner to vanish among the throng of pushing and pulling people cramming the sidewalk on their lunch break.
Sebastian stands where he is, dumbfounded and distracted, until his phone rings. He winces as he hastens to explain that yes, he's coming back to the office now, he just lost track of time, is terribly sorry, it won't happen again...
The fact that he never actually obtained anything to eat doesn't register until he's falling into his chair and attempting to resume the tedious, mind-numbing work of entering data for various businesses into an Excel spreadsheet. He'll never be able to concentrate on it, not when his mind is consumed with thoughts of honey-hazel eyes and full red lips and an intensity in Blaine's expression that makes Sebastian want to promise the world to someone that only used him to get back together with Hummel.
The business card practically burns a hole in the pocket of his pants, imprinting Blaine's name to his thigh and stitching the numbers along the freckles of his flesh.
He ignores it until he gets home.
Actually, Sebastian ignores it until he strips out of his work attire into something more suitable for lounging around the house. The shirt, tie and slacks fall into a basket and the cotton shorts and old Dalton t-shirt, well-worn and thoroughly faded, are far more comfortable.
It's only then that he rummages around for the card, conceals it in his palm, and moves towards the couch to sink into the plush fabric and examine it.
Blaine D. Anderson
School Counsellor
Below the job are work and a cell numbers. A faint hint of a smile curls the edge of his lips – Blaine had always had a fascination with people, with children, with wanting to help – before it vanishes. He's not sure why, but it feels wrong to smile. Maybe it's the silver band that wraps around his finger and contrasts with the off-white business card he holds in his left hand.
It feels like betrayal.
His dinner tastes like cardboard, his hot water is never hot enough to ease the chill in his bones, and his sleep is restless as he struggles to silence his thoughts.
It's been a week and Sebastian has stared at the business card for so many hours that the name which had imprinted itself on his thigh has been joined by the numbers imprinted on his eyes. He no longer needs to look at it to know what to press if he wanted to call Blaine.
He still hasn't, though.
He's not sure why. Maybe because his boss dumped him with additional client files, or because he has a paper due in a couple of weeks that is getting louder in demanding his attention, or because it still feels like a betrayal, or because he's not convinced he'll get the closure he needs.
Maybe because, deep down in a place he'd never admit to existing, he's afraid of falling for Blaine all over again.
The boring food, lukewarm showers, and fitful sleep are taking their toll.
~TBC~