Warnings: self-harm
I Always Keep Track
He was lost.
~:~
Sebastian was eleven when it happened for the first time. Tears stung his eyes, blurring the droplets of red on the white carpet of the Smythes' home in Paris. His father found him, hunched over the floor. He didn't say anything that first time, simply pressed a small box into Senastian's trembling fingers.
~:~
The third time was the only time outside of the house. He snuck in re back door, but his father stopped him on his way to his room. Pushed back his sleeve.
"Never outside, Sebastian. Not where people can see."
Sebastian nodded.
~:~
The worst time was when he was fourteen. He didn't cry, hadn't since that first time. His father had long sense stopped noticing. Or stopped caring. Whichever it was was fine by Sebastian. The razor had laid untouched under his bathroom sink for three months. He always used the same one. His own private tradition.
His father was away on a business trip for two months. He returned on the last day of Sebastian locking himself in his room for three weeks. He found his son sitting on the floor, white carpet speckled with red just like the first time.
"How many times?"
"Why do you care?"
"Didn't you keep track?"
"I always keep track."
~:~
The last time was when he was he was sixteen, right before he left for America. One month later, his eyes found hazel ones from across the Warblers' common room. Something stirred.
~:~
He was found.
A/n: This is something I wrote based on myself mixed with my relationship with my brother mixed with some Seblaine. I just had to get it out.