i'm taking in Hidden One's suggestion. sweetheart, i'll try to keep in the perspective thing, as i do tend to carry off from one perspective to another very frequently. i never notice it before but unless i'm writing in first person, i tend to shift point of views quite frequently! also, i know this chapter may seem a bit confusing because Sebastian's thoughts are SUPPOSED to be all over the place. i wanted to keep him IC whilst he's still effected by his Father disowning him – i didn't want a complete character change. i think he'd try to justify his Father's behaviour a lot for some reason. ^_^ Sebastian isn't an angel after all! :)

this seems like a filler, just to explain what's going on in Seb's head, because it's important to understand his actions later on x i'd like to think of it as a way to hope that my birthday doesn't suck too bad and that i actually got something done (i am SO tired).


2

perfect imperfect


Sebastian Smythe rubbed his eyelid once more.

"Bas, you're gonna wake Lila up so be quiet. Else I'm making you stay up the night, alright?" Sebastian nodded towards her, and remained silent. He could tell that she wanted to ask him something, and he had an inkling of an idea why as she was staring at his Dalton uniform – fuck Dalton, he wasn't going to be there anymore. There was no way Andrea could pay for him to study there, and there was something forming and condensing at the pitch of his stomach because he knew what that meant. He had to leave when he'd gone through all of this crap for Regionals, and now, he wasn't even going to go.

Unbelievable.

Sebastian realised if he focused on his hatred of Kurt and Blaine and the entire human race, then it dulled the pain a bit, kind of like adding ice to water on a stove. It cooled him down for just that moment but then the ice would melt, and the temperature would rise again. Sebastian took off his Dalton shirt, and the second he'd shed the blazer from his skin, he realised how dissociated from the world and his body he'd felt. Had he cried in front of Kurt Hummel? Had he truly shown a weakness to his worst enemy? At least now they'd known he had emotions for the most part. He didn't know why he couldn't stop himself, and now, he was blushing so madly he can't even think of how pathetic he must of looked. They took pity on the pathetic Dalton boy who just got disowned.

Now, his thoughts were drifting away to his Father. He was practically naked without his Dalton uniform, without his signature smirk, without his watch – so he just took a shower, felt ridiculously better because who needed a family anyway? Hummel probably always joked about him having no family at all, or that he was raised by a pack of rabid wolves.

Sebastian couldn't ignore the prick of pain when he settled himself down onto his bed, then he heard Lila's soft screaming. He went to the two month old, and then carried her into his arms expertly. He hated babies with a passion, but he couldn't help but feel the need to do so, at least to get something out of his mind. If he had to do something, he won't think, so he did. However, looking down at Lila's brown eyes, he can't help but to think of his Father's own. Had his Father not once held him in his arms and cradled him to sleep?

Had he been blind?

The only thing that Sebastian Smythe did know was that he was passionate, and articulate, and nothing was going to stop him right now. He was going to go to Regionals, and he was going to win it and he was going to prove to his fucking Father that he wasn't a good for nothing sore loser. When Lila stopped screaming, Sebastian couldn't help but sit down near the table, opened Andrea's hot-pink (the woman had issues) Mac, and then idly went to Google. At the familiar blinking of white on the screen, Sebastian wrote: definition problem.

"What did I say about taking care of your little fucking problem?"

His Father's voice rang in his ear, "A matter or situation regarded as unwelcome or harmful and needing to be dealt with and overcome." Him being gay was a situation, that was harmful because he was in Lima, not in Paris where every man around them was as gay as Hell, but in Lima—where he could be bashed to Hell. He cares. Has to care. Unwelcome. Unwelcome because…he just needed a little time. Father always resolved, didn't he? Sure, change was unwelcome but it was inevitable, and people adapted to change all of the time. Sebastian tapped at the desk, rereading and reconfirming his suspicion.

He typed again: definition whore. "A prostitute."

"I can't believe I ever raised a whore like you."

Sebastian felt his mind being unable to conjure up anything related to that. In reality, Sebastian had never committed to anyone in his life, but that didn't mean he was a prostitute—you do it for free, a snide voice remarked in his head. He was practically trying to get into Blaine's pants after all. Sebastian's eyes widened. He did shame his Father, when he raised him to be good, when he raised him to not be the best, but to be better than the best. Sebastian balled his hands into fists. He typed again: definition disgust. "Cause (someone) to feel revulsion or profound disapproval."

"You disgust me."

He disapproved his Father. He made him repulsed. He shamed him, and he should've known. He was raised better. He was raised fucking better than this. He typed: definition disgrace. "Loss of reputation or respect, esp. as the result of a dishonorable action."

"You're a disgrace."

The man had spent years trying to get where he was at, and it was unfair that the son that he clothed and sheltered all his life…turned out to be gay. Sebastian fixed his posture. His Father worked so hard to earn all that respect from his clients, build up his reputation, build it all up—and Sebastian was smashing it all just by existing. Jean had to throw him out. He had to, because Sebastian was selfish. Sebastian could feel two conflicting emotions right now: something that was faintly telling him: stop psychoanalyzing this! He's wrong! He's just a homophobe and something else that was telling him that he was disgusting, and selfish, and crude and he deserved what was coming to him.

Sebastian swallowed. Definition faggot. "offensive. A male homosexual."

"And by God, if you think you can ever…ever… walk into my doorsteps again, you've got another thing coming, you faggot."

Sebastian shook his head, and didn't even think about it. He was a male homosexual. His Father was just stating the truth. It was just a word. Definition disease. "A particular quality, habit, or disposition regarded as adversely affecting a person or group of people."

"Might as well be a disease."

He just wanted to protect him, had to. He can't really just want to disown him. Sebastian can just be straight, and it would all be alright, but he can't, he can't just be straight—why was it so hard?—he just stopped right then, stopping thinking because the rest of the conversation was bolting into his mind again and he can hear his voice, as cold as ever before. "I don't ever want to see your face again. Throwing yourself around to not only a boy, but one with a relationship—this is apparently what I raised you to be. What will people say, Sebastian? What will think they of me? No son of mine goes around jumping in bed with every single man they see. No son of mine is a faggot. Understand? And don't bother calling Nona. She won't get you out of anything this time."

His Nona. By God, his Nona. His darling Nona that always told him he looked beautiful when he had his monthly haircut. He can't disgrace her. He can't call her, because he will be upset. He can't, but another part of him was begging him to. He just can't.

"He is nothing to me. He doesn't belong to my family any longer. I don't give a damn if he ends up starved and dead by the end of the week. And yes, I can do this to him."

Sebastian looked to see Lila, asleep and Andrea was on the couch again. John walked inside, and then shut the door, looked at Sebastian and gave him a smile. "Hiya, champ. Heard about what happened," John gave him that pitying smile.

Sebastian wanted to punch him square in the jaw. He stood up, and watched John fall onto the bed. In half an hour, the entire apartment was asleep. Sebastian put the Mac back down onto the table, looked at Andrea, her keys were right there so he snatched them and disappeared off to Scandals.

"Wow, Sebastian, you royally fucked up this time. And one more thing, Sebastian, go fucking kill yourself. I'm through tolerating you. I'm through with pretending that you're not a lost cause."

Lost cause. That was what he was, Sebastian thought, as he let the bartender eye him whilst he had his fifth beer…it wasn't like anyone was going to do anything right about now. He'd only had fifty on him before he'd started and now, he had sixty-six, spending fourteen dollars on just plain beer and he was full of alcohol and not thinking straight and by the time that he went back to the apartment, he'd passed by a couple of guys that were offering to fuck his 'adorable skinny little white ass' and Sebastian had rejected them all. When he'd drove back in Andrea's Chevy, he'd found out that Andrea was awake, holding Lila in her arms.

"Bastian…" Andrea was whining.

Sebastian just stared at her for a second, and then sped towards the bathroom because he knew the familiar nausea that was overtaking him. He fell to the bathroom and then started to throw up, his lungs were on fire, and he was in pain again. He didn't remember much of the night later, just a few thoughts of this is what you are and it's not his fault he disowned you as he fell asleep right in Andrea's guest room.

When he woke up in the morning with a raging hangover, he swore that the world was ten octaves brighter than it should be, his head hurt no matter how dim the room was and the phone ringing beside him was splintering his head in two. He did answer anyway. "Hello?" Sebastian's voice was scratchy and irritated.

"…Sebastian," it was Kurt's voice on the other end of the line.

Sebastian didn't know how cold he sounded as he asked, "…how did you even get my phone number?"

"Blaine."

Sebastian forgot he and Blaine had exchanged phone numbers on day one of meeting him in Dalton. He groaned and then asked, "what the hell do you want right now?" his voice suggested he really wasn't in the mood for anything at all.

Kurt was huffing on the other end of the line. "Looks like you found your ego back."

"Damn straight," Sebastian's voice was more strained now. "And why did you call?"

"To check up on your ass."

"My ass is fine, and hasn't been thoroughly fucked if that's what you're suggesting," Sebastian explained, and then found himself accompanying with that half-smirk. He can be perfect again. He had to be. He had to find a way to be in control again. If he was in control, he wouldn't think of his Father. If he was in control, then he wasn't a disgrace, he wasn't a disease and he would be perfect, pristine, for him. For him. He would die trying, but it would be worth it. He'd be perfect again. He just had to be. He didn't give a damn about anyone else's approval.

Kurt sighed. "I'm not suggesting anything. You know he's wrong."

"…I fuck men from Scandals nearly daily, Kurt. I'm not exactly a virgin," Sebastian explained, and he could nearly feel Kurt flinching on the other end of the line. "He's right about that bit. I am a…" Sebastian now let a smirk slip onto his lips. Control. Control. Control. "An exotic dancer."

"…an exotic dancer? That's a stripper."

"Shut up. I'm not a stripper. I assure you."

"But that's what—"

"Hummel. Let me have my moment," Sebastian rolled his eyes. "I'm perfectly fine. Still breathing, living, I didn't shoot myself. I am fine. Everything's the same again, understand?" and his voice was now having that demanding, commanding edge and Sebastian felt better now, as if nothing had changed, even now, that he was staring around the room, he felt himself more and more dissociated by the second. His body wasn't even a part of his mind anymore.

"…if you say so," Kurt was sighing.

"Do you want me to be on my knees crying my eyes out?"

"No," Kurt sounded rather insulted by then. "But I do want you to start being human."

Sebastian just smirked, as he shut his phone afterwards. Humans weren't perfect, and Sebastian Smythe will be perfect. Family was forever, right? Jean had to take him back. He just had to. If he won Regionals…he had to get back in the game. School. School. He wasn't in Dalton anymore, and by the time that Sebastian had stepped into the room, he'd asked Andrea about school.

"…we're transferring you. Definitely. You know that we can't handle the fees of Dalton so…" Andrea's smile was soft. "McKinley."

"McKinley?" Sebastian repeated.

"It's good. Teachers are good. I talked to the principal and all and we enrolled you for next week since you need some time off, huh, Bastian?" John tried to explain, not knowing why it was troubling him at all. Andrea shoved a plate of eggs and toast towards Sebastian. Sebastian stared down at it, two pieces of buttered toast, with a boiled egg on top. "He is nothing to me. He doesn't belong to my family any longer. I don't give a damn if he ends up starved and dead by the end of the week. And yes, I can do this to him."

Sebastian decided he wasn't hungry after all.