Notes: A somewhat re-write of my Coldflash fic 'Paper Thin'.
"So, what are your plans for the evening?" Kurt asks, thumbing through his mail and organizing it by importance – letters from home, bills, periodicals, advertisements, and miscellaneous junk – in the three-and-a-half minutes it takes to walk from the stairwell to his apartment.
"Same plans I have every Thursday night," Sebastian answers, twirling his keyring on his index finger twice, then catching his keys. Three times next, then catching them; four times, then catching them; and so on. "Studying, studying, and more studying."
Actually not studying, but that's Sebastian's business.
"Sounds like fun," Kurt says offhand, not paying particular attention. He yawns behind a solicitation postcard from the Red Cross, but Sebastian can't take too much offense. Kurt's been working himself to the bone lately for the largely unappreciative masses of New York City. He won't fault the guy for not giving him 100% of his focus.
"Well, if I know you, you're going to take a shower, make yourself a spinach and chicken gyro, and turn in early," Sebastian remarks, snagging Kurt's new issue of Vanity Fair and flipping through the pages.
"You only know that because I told you." Kurt peeks past Sebastian's shoulder when he opens the magazine to the center spread - an article cheerfully titled 'Mourning Fashion: More than just a Phase'.
"At least I remembered," Sebastian says, cheekily turning the page when he sees Kurt glance over. A cologne sample is stuck in the spine. Sebastian lifts the tab, sniffs it, then tears it out and shoves it in his pocket.
Kurt rolls his eyes.
"Then you'd know that Thursday is curry night now."
Sebastian tilts his head and bats his eyes. "Is it chicken curry?"
Kurt shoots Sebastian a sour look. "Possibly …"
"Then it's practically the same thing."
"You called it, Captain Brainiac," Kurt teases, veering left toward his door. Sebastian lives next to Kurt, so they've already passed his apartment, but he makes it a habit of walking Kurt the few feet to his. More time to bother the shit out of you, he always says, which is the highlight of my day. "There's extra if you want," Kurt offers, grabbing his magazine out of Sebastian's hands.
"I think I'll pass this time. To tell you the truth, I kind of have a craving for corned beef on rye, so I might run down to the deli next door and pick up a sandwich."
"Suit yourself."
"Thanks, though," Sebastian says, standing steadfastly by as an exhausted Kurt struggles with his keys.
"Anytime. Just remember, offer's on the table."
"Will do."
With a jingle, a shake, and a crank to the right, Kurt finally manages to unlock his door. He walks into his apartment, waves goodbye, then closes the door behind him. Sebastian stands out in the hallway with an ear pressed to Kurt's door, waiting for him to head to the bathroom. Kurt is a creature of habit, bound by his routine, following the same exact schedule religiously day after day. Sebastian hears Kurt's bathroom door shut. Only then does he hurry back down the hall to his own apartment, sneaks in, and locks the door.
So, yeah, he lied. Owing to the fact that he's changed since high school, finally having grown up since he's been out on his own, he doesn't feel great about it, but, unfortunately, it wouldn't be the first time. The thing is that Sebastian is a creature of habit, too. Kurt has a routine, and so does Sebastian. The two just happen to coincide. It's no big deal, really. In fact, he'll probably cut out early this time, run down to the deli and get his sandwich. He never has when he's used that excuse before, but maybe he will. There's a first time for everything. Then he won't have lied … much. It'll be a white lie. Not even white – cloudy. No harm, no foul.
Yup. Sounds good to him.
But, for now …
With Kurt's shower still going, Sebastian gets prepared. He kicks off his shoes and sets them by the door. He grabs a beer out of his fridge, a half-eaten bag of kale chips from the kitchenette counter (Kurt's suggestion, which Sebastian couldn't turn down because it came from Kurt, even if kale is the worst leafy green known to man), and a magazine from his desk to read while he waits. He pulls up his favorite chair to the side of his bed, faces it to the wall, and sits. He arranges his snack on the floor for blind easy access - beer to his right, chips to his left. He opens the magazine in his lap and props his feet on the bed. It takes him less than two minutes to get ready. Since Kurt's shower started about eight minutes ago, and he tends to take roughly thirty minutes between washing his body and exfoliating his face, Sebastian calculates that he has approximately twenty-two minutes to go, give or take.
Okay, so maybe he's a little more committed to this than he'd like to admit.
Sebastian finishes his beer, most of what was left in the kale bag (knuckling them down through sheer will), and has skimmed one-third of his magazine when he hears Kurt's shower water turn off and the bathroom door open. Sebastian closes his magazine and puts it on the floor, carefully setting the beer bottle on top so that it doesn't make a noise. He keeps absolutely silent as he listens to Kurt pad across the floor. The bed (which Sebastian knows is positioned on the exact opposite side of the wall) creaks when Kurt sits on it.
Sebastian holds his breath.
Every night when Kurt climbs into bed, there's always a chance that he won't, that he'll switch on the TV and zone out for an hour before he makes himself a bite to eat. He did look exhausted - yawning after every sentence and trudging like a zombie to his apartment. But then, he always looks like that. He's a music performance and theater double major with a double minor in fashion and design. Between the amount of homework he does, his part time job as a waiter, and the time he spends at his internship at Vogue, it's a wonder he sleeps at all.
The silence draws out and Sebastian waits, but Kurt does nothing. Maybe he fell asleep sitting up? Sebastian muses, picturing a freshly-showered Kurt, hair dripping wet, a towel wrapped around his waist, sitting on the edge of his bed with his eyes shut, drifting off to sleep. Sebastian considers knocking on the wall to jar him awake so he doesn't tumble off his bed and injure himself, but then Kurt would know that Sebastian is there. That would ruin this whole charade.
But it might get ruined worse if Kurt cracks his head open and has to be rushed to the hospital by the EMTs.
Sexy, gay, available EMTs …
Sebastian tenses in his chair. He perches forward, considering his options and their consequences when he hears a muffled, "ohhh," float through the wall. The breath he's holding slides through his lips, and he smiles with a strange sense of triumph.
Kurt didn't fall asleep. Everything is going according to schedule.
And that means it's time for the show.
Thank God for cheap plaster. The wall between Sebastian's bedroom and Kurt's is paper thin. Why Kurt hasn't realized this yet (since Sebastian has had to come to terms with the fact that he snores like a foghorn) is beyond him.
Drafty bedroom, paper thin walls, drab paint job, tiny kitchenette, a living room that bleeds directly into the dining room and then spits ungraciously into the bathroom – not exactly where Sebastian ever dreamed he'd end up. Moving in to Greenwich Hills Apartments was an impromptu decision, as was attending NYU, but he hasn't felt this content in a long time. All his life, Sebastian's dad had lofty plans for his future – Harvard Law, married to wealthy a socialite, run for office. Sebastian did his best to live up to those goals - not because he wanted that to be his life, but because he wanted his father proud of him. If he could get his father's seal of approval, he'd be able to work out the finer details later – mainly trading the potential wife in his dad's plan for a husband.
In the end, it didn't turn out that way.
The man didn't seem to understand the definition of the word compromise. It was his way, or no way.
So Sebastian chose no way … which meant no trust fund.
With only the money he had left in his bank account (which was, thankfully, more than most people make in a year), he struck out on his own. He tossed his college acceptance letters on the floor and picked one at random, one that had offered him an academic scholarship.
He didn't really have a plan other than that.
Becoming friends with Kurt was a complete accident. He didn't even know Kurt would be there. Sebastian considers himself a loner. He prefers it that way - unattached, options open, no one depending on him, even for friendship. Kurt, on the other hand, is a notorious social butterfly … or he was. Sebastian remembered Kurt back in high school, traveling with a pack of friends, his boyfriend-turned-fiancé permanently attached to his hip. But after graduation, everyone went their separate ways.
And he and Blaine broke up.
Apparently, some stuff went down (Sebastian isn't savvy on the dirty details), and they both ended up leaving NYADA - Blaine dropped out because of depression, and Kurt went on hiatus in an attempt to win Blaine back. But when Kurt realized what he was doing - that he had left New York City, the cultural hub of the continent, to return to Lima, Ohio, for a man who had run into the arms of Kurt's former bully - he decided to cut his losses and move on, revamp his life. He didn't return to NYADA when his leave of absence was up, instead applying and getting accepted to NYU.
That's where Sebastian ran into him – in line at a nearby coffee shop.
Kurt had expected them to pick up where they left off in high school and avoided Sebastian like the plague, but Sebastian felt the need to make amends. It wasn't fair the way he'd treated Kurt, the things he'd said to him. Kurt hadn't deserved any of it, and Sebastian knew it. It took Kurt a while to warm up to the idea of Sebastian as a friend – a whole year, as a matter of fact. But little by little, Sebastian inserted himself into Kurt's life – walking him to the stairwell in the morning, catching breakfast with him at the dining hall, even transferring into one of his (less annoying) classes.
Sebastian wanted to make things right with Kurt, become his friend, but above all, prove that he could be a good guy, and not the villain of both their stories.
Sebastian didn't expect to fall for him. That was never part of the plan.
"Oh … oh, God …"
Sebastian knows the dance by now. It started shortly after Sebastian moved in, and he's been listening to Kurt perform it for months. He's memorized the ritual that goes with it – a shower, some kind of intense moisturizing regimen, and then, before he fixes himself dinner … this. Stress relief. This blissful moment where Kurt takes matters into his own hands, so to speak, and Sebastian gets to visualize.
The first time it happened, Sebastian was going to tease the ever living daylights out of Kurt for it. Really let him have it, like any good friend would. But the smile Kurt greeted Sebastian with the following morning was so bright and warm and handsome, Sebastian couldn't do it.
He couldn't risk never seeing that smile again.
He could almost convince himself that he was the reason behind it.
"O-oh …" Kurt's voice shudders, and a chill spirals along Sebastian's spine. "Oh … oh God ..."
Sebastian has made picturing Kurt masturbate an art form, so crystal clear in his mind, it's as if he has seen it firsthand. Sebastian leans back in his chair, closes his eyes, and there Kurt is – lying on his back on his bed, on top of his royal blue comforter tucked in high and tight to cover his sheets. In Sebastian's fantasy, Kurt's knees are bent up and his legs open wide enough for Sebastian to fit between. And if not, then wide enough so Sebastian can kneel on the floor and suck Kurt's cock. Sebastian imagines how he'd taste – his skin hot and moist from his shower, smelling of Fresh Life citrus body gel and Paul Mitchell shampoo.
Sebastian has thought about doing it if for no other reason than to put him out of his misery. He'd take Kurt up on his invitation, seduce him, fuck him, and get the man out of his system once and for all. He's done it before with other men and didn't care less. Once, done, and move on. But Kurt isn't just Sebastian's friend. He's become his best friend, and Sebastian hasn't had too many of those in his life.
He can't ruin that. He can't step over the line.
Sebastian doesn't jerk off listening to Kurt. It would be so easy though. He can see himself cumming hard to the sound of Kurt blowing his load. But this isn't about stroke material. If that were the case, Sebastian could easily pop open his laptop and Google a hundred different online porn sites. Listening to Kurt is about making himself numb to what he shouldn't want: the ideal, the boy next door, the guy who really gets him.
The man who, in another lifetime, could turn out to be the one.
But Sebastian can't do that to Kurt, not after the way he'd had his heart broken by his so-called one true love.
He can't promise Kurt that he won't eventually do the same.
That's why he turns Kurt down for dinner every night, then hides in the dark and listens to him jerk off.
What a life. What a fucking pathetic waste.
"Oh, God," Kurt moans with more fervor and a huskier voice, "oh, God, oh, God, oh, God ..."
Sebastian chuckles under his breath. Kurt's not much of a talker. He's exclusively a moaner.
"Oh … God!"
And a pray-er.
But Sebastian can't help wondering if maybe a little dirty talk might not get a few more words out of him. Something along the lines of Yes, Kurt. That's it, baby. Just like that. Are you hot for me? Do you wanna cum for me? Look into my eyes and tell me that you do …
At this point, with the bed squeaking in earnest, Sebastian knows that Kurt is almost done. Then Kurt will clean himself up and make himself dinner. Sebastian will go to bed, and life can return to normal for another 24-hours.
Or normal-ish.
What Sebastian wouldn't give for once … just once … to hear Kurt cry out his name. Then he'd know he wasn't alone in this infatuation.
But he honestly doesn't know how he'd talk to Kurt after that.
"Yes," Kurt groans, his voice shaking so hard it slides between pitches. "Yes, oh, God! Yes, yes, yes …"
Sebastian's jeans become tighter with every yes, yes, yes, but he ignores it. He squeezes his hard-on tight and his eyes shut to conjure up an image of Kurt cumming. The nails of his left hand dig into his thigh. He can barely feel the blunt edges through the denim of his jeans, but it acts as an anchor. He's considered stripping off his pants so he can feel his nails bite into his skin, but that would lead to way too much temptation.
Sebastian is a strong man, but he's not certain he's strong enough to resist that.
The bed stops creaking. Kurt stops moaning. From the other side of the wall, Sebastian hears a final choked gasp, and he knows that the show is over. Stars spin behind Sebastian's eyes thinking about licking Kurt clean – his hand, his cock, his chest. Sitting alone in his apartment, Sebastian listens to Kurt sigh, relaxing into his mattress, probably wondering if it's worth getting up and making that fucking chicken after all.
Sebastian knows he will. Kurt always does. And Sebastian always reconsiders popping over and joining him. This time, more than others, he gets close. He stands up. With determination, he heads for the door. He flips the lock, puts a hand on the doorknob … and stops. He slows his breathing, which had started to race with every step he took, and pulls his hand away. Eyes on the door, still debating, ever negotiating, he retreats, step by tortured step.
He walks back to his bedroom. He circles his chair a few times, but he's too antsy to sit, the emotions swirling through his head too complicated to pinpoint and label. He tries to think past them and decide what to do now. Does he finish his magazine? Does he buy himself that sandwich? Does he blow past the deli entirely, go to a bar, down a few more beers, and find a convenient one-night stand? He puts his hand up against the wall, palm flat, fingers splayed, and sighs. He can't do that. He can't be with someone else when he can imagine himself climbing into bed behind Kurt and wrapping his arms around him. Not when he can feel himself burying his nose into Kurt's hair and kissing his neck. Not when he can picture himself being happy that way for as long as Kurt would be willing to have him, if he could only think of a way to tell him the truth that would make him understand.
But Sebastian can't. And he probably never will.
His hand slides down the wall and returns to his side.
"Good night, Kurt," he whispers. He turns off his light and, without getting undressed, climbs into bed. He grabs his pillow and cradles it in his arms, hugging it close. It's not the same as the flesh-and-blood man next door with the clever blue eyes and the flirty smile that makes Sebastian melt inside every time it flashes his way, but it'll have to do.
Kurt lies flat on his back and stares at the ceiling, waiting to come down from his orgasm. He hears the blood in his ears rushing like a river, feels it answer in his veins and in the pounding of his heart. God, he loves that. He loves the tingle on his flesh and the exhaustion in his body. It doesn't beat having someone else there with him, another person's hand sliding over his sweaty skin, but it's the best he can do.
Especially since the man who has begun to fuel his inner most desires won't even accept an invitation to dinner.
Kurt breathes heavily, hair clinging to his brow, damp from his shower and now with perspiration. His eyes pave a trail from the ceiling above him to the wall behind his bed, and he smiles. He reaches out a hand and runs his fingertips lightly along its slightly bumpy surface. How did this happen to him? Imagine his surprise the day he realized that everything he'd never known he wanted in a man was a mere five feet away - on the other side of that wall, turning off his light and going to sleep.
Kurt knows. He knew from that first night he woke to the most frightening noise he'd ever heard come from a human being. He'd thought that Sebastian was choking on a chicken bone, minutes away from death, it was so ghastly! He'd rushed to Sebastian's apartment and pounded on the door. But when his confused neighbor answered, he assured Kurt in prime Smythe fashion that he'd been fast asleep sweetheart and that no, under absolutely any circumstances, did he snore. Even though that remark was reminiscent of the barbs he once threw at Kurt back in the day, it didn't rankle Kurt's nerves. Sebastian wasn't being cruel. He wasn't trying to cut Kurt down. He may have been defensive, but only because he seemed embarrassed.
But most telling of all, even though he denied vehemently that any snoring took place, he apologized for his comment the following day.
Sebastian had changed, become a man who considered the feelings of others before he opened his mouth. Kurt might not have believed it if he hadn't seen with his own eyes … along with a handful of other things.
He notices the way Sebastian looks at him, the glimmer in his eye when Kurt smiles in his direction. The fact that he walks with Kurt everywhere he needs to go, even if it takes him out of his way, is a giant indicator. That deli Sebastian mentioned? They pass it on their way in and out of the building, and every night, without fail, Sebastian says he's considering dropping by for a sandwich after they're already home. Why not duck in before they get into the building? Or better yet – ask Kurt to bring him a sandwich home from work?
Sebastian has secrets – Kurt knows he does. Sebastian's life hasn't played out the way Kurt expected, and he knows there's a story behind that, a deeply personal one, but Sebastian has chosen not to divulge, the same way Kurt decided not to spill on the specifics of his and Blaine's break up. Kurt didn't want anything that had happened in his past to color the way this new Sebastian sees him. There are things regarding his dissolved engagement that Kurt can admit he handled badly, things he's ashamed of. But part of calling a do over on his life meant not bringing old baggage with him into new relationships, regardless of whom those relationships happened to include.
He assumes Sebastian feels somewhat the same.
If Kurt has accomplished one thing with this (because it doesn't seem to be doing anything else to advance their "relationship"), maybe Sebastian will think of him tonight. Maybe he'll touch himself with the memory of Kurt moaning ringing through his brain. Maybe Kurt will wake up in the middle of the night to hear Sebastian mirror that moan instead of the freight train like snores he's become infamous for on their floor.
It's not the same as the two of them being together, but he'll take it if he can get it.
"Good night, Sebastian," Kurt whispers, too softly for him to hear. "Sweet dreams."