A/N: So reading Nietzsche's Beyond Good and Evil in class today and a particular quote made me think of Sebastian and MorMor and so I sat down and wrote this. Apologies for any mistakes or whatever but it was written rather quickly :)
The Problem of Those Who Wait
"In every corner of the earth there are people waiting who hardly know to what extent they are waiting but even less that they are waiting in vain." - Friedrich Nietzsche
I sat in the corner of a dark bar in London, inhaling the almost suffocating smoke of cigars and cigarettes that curled around each other in the air. This used to be one of my favourite haunts, one of the few bars that didn't observe the smoking ban. My eyes darted around the room, searching. I hated how the whisky dulled my instincts and nerves, which now seemed constantly on edge. I always considered getting absolutely trashed but didn't. He'd always hated it when I'd done that.
This was where I'd first met him five years ago, he'd looked so out of place – "Westwood, darling" - he'd hate it if I ruined a suit. Sometimes I did it purposely. Just for a kick. He was so utterly captivating when he was angry. Like something terrifying that you knew could tear you apart but you couldn't help getting closer to anyway, wanting to get closer. So beautiful.
I'd sat on this stool for six hours two years ago, only leaving when the pub itself closed. He'd said he'd meet me here. He promised. After he'd met with Holmes on the roof, he was going to meet me here. So I come back here at the same time every week, waiting. I know he's coming back to me, coming home. It's just a matter of time. Wherever Jim is, I know he's trying to return to me: his tiger; his Sebastian.
