My first collab fic! Fanfiction user davros fan gave me this wonderful premise and has been a continuous source of ideas.
Warnings: Eating Disorder trigger warning, swearing, later smutiness
Disclaimer: I don't own Sebastian Moran. He is a product of the fanverse. Oh,and EA Poe - I don't own him either.
Sebastian found his first love when he was a child. The headmaster of his small primary school told the boy that his actions toward other students were troublesome. He worried about Sebastian's future, especially with the violent tendencies he exhibited at random. But to avoid creating a stigma, an unknown well of curiosity surrounding death, he gave young Sebastian a storybook.
The fourteen-year-old boy was rather unimpressed with the gift, but he accepted it. And that night, while his mother screamed and his father grunted profanities, he used it to distract himself. The book was green leather with a shiny gold raven embossed on the cover. Across the bottom glared the words Poe: Selected Works. Apparently, according to the preface, this "Edgar Allan Poe" was an American writer with an alternative take on story telling. Sebastian figured it was better than pretending to sleep.
With every story Sebastian read, something happened inside of him. There was a twinge, a pull. Sebastian was having a connection. A connection to a long-dead writer with a twisted mind and sick words. For the first time, when Sebastian snuck away from class, it wasn't to smoke the sweet cigarettes hidden in his socks, but to open his book and stare at the words he knew by heart. He'd imagine those children, the beautiful ones that dared to call him disgusting, with blood flowing free from their pores like Poe had imagined.
This was a new beginning for Sebastian. For two years the teenager collected books from different libraries, stockpiling a massive heap of Poe in his closet, hidden away from the horrible things that transpired in his home.
One night, under his bed covers and with Tales of the Folio Club clutched in his hands, Sebastian had an idea. Metzengerstein. It was so clear. He stepped cautiously from his bunk and stood by his door, listening for signs of consciousness from his parents' bedroom.
When he was sure the coast was clear, Sebastian went quietly into the kitchen. He fumbled for the drawer next to the stove and managed to grasp his prize. He left the kitchen quickly and stood outside of his mother and father's door. When he pressed his ear to barricade, he could hear his father's snores. He looked at what he had grabbed from the kitchen. The box said the matches were durable. An advertisement plastered across the side proudly proclaimed, "It takes more than a stiff wind to take out Light-House matches!"
Sebastian took three red-tipped sticks from the box and held them together. He struck them against the box and watched fire spring from nothing. The flames danced together and Sebastian stared at them for a moment, entranced. The yellow light burned his eyes and there was something poetic in that.
When the flames reached dangerously close to his hands, Sebastian opened the door slightly, stuck his hand in, and let the matches fall to the floor. The carpet in the room was cheap. The liquor spilled on it night after night was cheap. The bedsheets that trailed on the floor, completing the circuit from match to man were cheap.
But the screams; the screams were priceless.
XxX
A police report would later say that – considering the large amount of ashtrays and cigarette butt-covered floors discovered in the home – the fire was accidental. It was localized to the master bedroom and was most likely caused by a lit cigarette that had been dropped, igniting the room's carpet. A social worker would note that the child of the house was suffering from shock, as he did not seem to be able to stop the seemingly endless bout of sobbing that plagued him throughout his time with her. Then, the unusually distraught boy would be transferred to his closest living relatives, cousins in America. The flight log from his trip would record two checked bags – one with a meager amount of clothing and the other filled with books. And Sebastian, arriving in the United States would smile at his new life.
I'd love feedback to show the fruits of my team participation! And expect another installment soon. I'm writing it PDQ :-)
Love to all my loyal readers/smut friends who keep writing me wonderful presents,
Mr. Awful
