It's actually been so hard to wait an entire week to post this! I guess that's what happens when you already have a chapter ready to go for almost a year. As usual, unending gratitude to my beta and best friend, Lori and to everyone who has read and enjoyed this so far.
Anyway, I hope this makes things even more interesting, I was so happy to hear back that people are enjoying the concept. In my opinion, it gets a billion times more exciting as things progress.
Happy Glee Day!
The first time they 'officially' met was on the eighth day of July that same year.
It was a Sunday morning, so Sebastian wasn't opening the shop. Still, that didn't stop him from waking up around two hours before his alarm, unable to drift back to sleep. The warm weather had always interfered with that. He sighed, the influx of tourists in the city this season somehow always made his apartment feel lonelier, as if the world was passing him by.
Sebastian, along with Santana, had moved to the modest sized apartment above the bookstore two years ago after graduating from college. Originally he'd wanted to distance himself from his workplace, but there was no earthly way he'd find a nicer place with the money he had. Plus, it was just three subway stops (or on good days, a pleasant stroll away) from Central park.
Both their families came from money, they'd grown up in the same area of Ohio, moving in the same circles. At first Sebastian outright refused any financial help from his parents after they tried to push him into a law career, stating that he didn't want their help if they wouldn't support his choices. After a lot of persuasion from Santana that it couldn't hurt to get a good beginning, get his feet on the ground and ultimately prove to his parents that a law career was not the only viable career option thank you very much, he decided to accept the money in his trust fund. It had been there for his entire life, after all.
Sebastian knew he was lucky, and he strived to never forget it. He was just twenty four years old and already owned his own business in one of the better areas of Manhattan and had enough free time and funds to dabble in all the arts he felt like.
Living directly above the shop limited the amount of exploring Sebastian could do during the week, but he used every spare minute he had to get out and capture the city. Sebastian adored photography, for the entire time he'd been living in the city he'd been building a collection of cityscapes and moments and memories of everyone and everything and everywhere. Nobody except him knew his collection existed.
The apartment was unusually still for most of the day, probably because Santana wasn't home. He spent most of the day painting one of the cityscapes he'd taken the week before, but after a few hours when the smell of the turpentine became too strong and the proportions started to look odd since he'd been staring at it for too long, he decided to take a break and come back later.
He roamed the apartment, trying to decide whether to make a late dinner or wait up for Santana, and after a glance outside showed a clear sky, he decided to take a walk to Central Park before she got back. He picked up his camera out of habit before grabbing his bag from the rack by the door and closed the apartment door behind him, pulling the door twice to make sure it had locked itself.
Of course, as soon as his feet touched the sidewalk, the tranquillity of his day indoors was gone, replaced by the rush of central Manhattan.
He walked leisurely - though he was still a New Yorker, so 'leisurely' was still three times the speed of everyone else. He snapped a couple of pictures of the buildings on his way, always preferring quiet and people-free shots. It felt like a contrast against the city that never sleeps, to find places where for the briefest moments, there were no signs of life. They were few and far between.
He turned off the path a little way in on his way towards Bow Bridge, enjoying the way the late afternoon sun filtered through the trees. He reached an open space not soon afterwards, spotting the bridge up ahead.
He'd let his reservations go a long time ago about how ridiculous he looked when trying to get the best composition in his photos. It was New York, nobody really cared in the long run. So there he was, lying half on the grass, half on the path, one eye closed against the sun and just his elbow propping him up, camera pointed towards the water.
He took a few photos, looking back at the display after each one. After a few minutes, now crouched a little higher, a figure, facing away from him, walked right into the centre of his shot, and proceeded to just stand there.
"Excuse me." Asshole, he added on in his head to the back of the slim, tall figure standing in the middle of his perfectly-set-up shot. "Excuse me." He repeated when the man didn't respond. He raised his eyebrows and silently judged the guy for being such an inconvenience to him, muttering profanities to himself.
The man turned slowly, looking for the source of the voice. When he caught Sebastian's eye, all the anger he'd directed towards him vanished and he was left staring at this stranger who didn't quite feel so strange. The man's eyes dropped to the camera Sebastian was holding in his hand and his mouth formed a tiny 'o' in understanding as he moved to apologize.
"It's y-you?" He stuttered, blinking rapidly.
The man's brow furrowed and he pointed towards his chest. "Me?"
"Ah, you-" He began, still unable to form words. "-Are in my way."
"Excuse me?" The man took a step forward, looking offended.
"Of the- of the photograph." He tried. "You don't mind, do you?" He asked, surprising himself with the genuine politeness in his tone. "It's just that the colours change so fast in the evening and are they are too gorgeous not to take advantage of."
The man's expression was soft as he listened, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
"Oh, of course. I'm so sorry. I didn't realise I was in the way." He replied, gesturing wildly with his hands and stepping towards Sebastian until he was certain he was well out of the shot.
Sebastian smiled back, crouching down again and angling his camera where Kurt had just been standing. He pressed the shutter a few times, checking the outcome on the screen and adjusting the settings accordingly whilst Kurt watched silently.
"So, you're a photographer?" Kurt asked, his hands in his coat pockets.
"I dabble." Sebastian answered, shading his eyes from the glare of the sun as he fiddled with the lens.
"Interesting." He began, placing his hands deeper in his pockets as he swayed lightly on his feet, chewing his lip. "Hobby or professional?" He asked after a moment.
Sebastian stood up, ready to move on and see what else he could find whilst the light was still good. He glanced at the guy – it was definitely the same guy from his shop all those months ago. He could never forget that jaw structure.
"A bit of both. My work is on sale, but I don't make a living from it." He shrugged. He never talked about his art with anyone.
"Why not?" The man seemed genuinely curious.
"It's not stable enough." Sebastian shrugged again, his eyes glued to the camera screen.
"You live in New York City. Your camera cost at least $2000 and you're wearing the Ted Baker summer collection, I don't think money is an issue for you." The man countered with a chuckle.
"Excuse me? That's a little rude." Sebastian said, his eyebrows raised at the man, who threw him a quizzical look. "It could have been a gift? Or- or I could have bought it in the sale." He stammered, lowering his camera to look at the man.
"But you didn't." He smirked.
"That's awfully assuming of you." He frowned, unsure why he felt offended.
"Maybe I'm just really observational." He teased.
"Well, could you go and observe somewhere else?" He felt intimidated by the presence of the guy he'd spent weeks searching for not six months ago. His face was heated and it was not due to the New York summer heat.
"Ouch." The man said, his tone was still light, but his face gave away his hurt and confusion.
Sebastian turned to him but couldn't look him in the eye. He felt guilt worm its way through his body, making him feel heavy, but he didn't feel so much like talking to really attractive strangers who were probably runway models right now. At least, not without writing a script or something beforehand to make sure he didn't fuck it up.
He wanted to apologize but he couldn't find the words.
"I hope you can't get the grass stains out of your coat." The man continued, pointing to Sebastian. He walked away, across the bridge and out of sight.
Sebastian rolled his eyes, significantly confused by the entire exchange and instantly regretting his hostility.
After spending at least another hour in the park photographing whatever scenes took his fancy, he decided to head back to the apartment, stopping for a coffee on the way.
Sebastian knew every coffee-shop in a six block area. He'd visited almost every one too, but still hadn't found the perfect place. He stopped at one of his preferred places half a block from the park.
It was a little more on the expensive side due to its location, and the dark red brick and hanging baskets gave it an unusually out-of-place feeling, but the tourists seemed to walk straight on by meaning it was always filled with the pleasant hum of New York's artistic personalities.
He pushed open the door, smiling and breathing in deep when he was confronted by the overwhelming scent of coffee beans and a hint of vanilla and chocolate.
The queue wasn't too long, and Sebastian took out his phone to mess with whilst he was waiting.
"Thanks." The man at the front of the queue said as he accepted his change and waited for his drink. Sebastian looked up towards the breathy and familiar voice.
Sebastian did a double take; it was the guy from the park, the one who'd stood in the way of his favourite shot of the day, (and had been present in his second favourite shot of the day). He spent the few moments before it was his turn to order to drink in the guy's profile as he stood scrolling through his phone.
He really was kind of breath-taking.
The man smiled in a way that scrunched up his whole face as he grabbed his drink and muttered a "thank you" and Sebastian was certain he'd never seen anything cuter in his entire life. He turned away from the counter in search of his seat; his eyes searched the shop floor before catching sight of Sebastian.
The man carried on smirking at Sebastian like he was in on a secret that Sebastian didn't know as he walked past him to find a seat in the area behind. Sebastian's eyes followed him until Kurt started laughing. He shook himself out of it and turned his attention back to the counter, where the menu had suddenly become ten times more interesting.
He got his order without much trouble, and had almost forgotten about the man until he was walking towards the door.
"Hey stranger." The voice greeted him enthusiastically as if they were old friends from somewhere on his left.
"H-Hey?" Sebastian replied, looking down to find Kurt sat with his feet resting on the chair opposite, smiling up at him.
"Didn't expect to see you so soon again." He extended his hand, Sebastian accepted it.
"No, me either." The man had that unnameable expression he seemed to wear constantly when he was around Sebastian. It was a mix between intense curiosity and mild amusement.
"Look, I'm- I'm really sorry I was so rude to you earlier." He stuttered, not able to meet Kurt's eyes.
Kurt raised his eyebrows, surprised by the apology. "Wow, did you track me down just to tell me that? I'm flattered."
Sebastian just stared in lieu of replying.
"It's cool. We're all assholes sometimes." Kurt smiled innocently. Sebastian's eyes shot up towards Kurt who gave nothing away. "Kidding. Kind of."
"Um, sorry?" Sebastian said, not so sure where this was going.
"Sit." It was more of a demand than a question.
"I-"
"Please." He continued, shoving his boots onto the floor and gesturing at the now empty chair.
Sebastian chewed his lip for a moment, but decided he wasn't sure why he was hesitating in the first place. This guy was attractive and seemingly fun and mysterious. Sebastian had no idea just how much. He took the seat, shifting loudly a few times and almost dropping his drink onto the table.
Kurt was still smiling at him in that way, and he wondered if that was just his default face. He seemed to be making no effort to start a conversation.
"So?" Sebastian prompted.
"Are you stalking me?" Kurt blurted out.
"What- no? If anything, you're stalking me."
"Touché." Kurt nodded, and they stared at each other for an uncomfortably long time.
Sebastian messed uncomfortably with the lid on his cup. "Is there a reason you asked me to sit down or?"
"Something wrong with making friends in New York City?" Kurt countered, raising one eyebrow.
"Making friends?"
"Yeah, you know, socialising." Kurt smiled when Sebastian narrowed his eyes. "So if it's just a hobby, what do you do for a living, Mr Artiste?"
"I, own a bookstore."
"You're like- twenty five."
"Twenty four." Sebastian corrected.
"Man you really must be rich. Did you rob a bank or something?" He said, leaning back in his chair and taking a sip from his drink.
"No." He laughed at the way Kurt now looked seriously concerned. "My family." He added with an eye roll, as if that explained everything.
"Old money. I see. Shouldn't you be like, a lawyer or something?"
"Oh how that would please my parents. I mean, they are great and I love them but-"
"I get it."
"They had high expectations. Harvard or Yale or something. Telling them I wanted to come to New York to study art was worse than telling them I'm gay." He went on, unable to stop himself, hardly noticing Kurt's expression change at this piece of information. "I didn't speak to them for like the first eight months of college but then my brother convinced them they were being stupid and he's in a band that's doing pretty okay so they called me up and asked me if they could come visit."
He noticed Kurt shifting slightly out of the corner of his eye and refocused.
"I'm sorry. I have totally been talking about myself too much. What about you? Tell me something about yourself?"
Kurt blinked a few times at the question. "What do you want to know?"
"Um, I don't know. What do you do? Where are you from? This coffee shop, do you come here often?" He blurted, looking around wildly for inspiration. He'd had a million questions floating around in his head until he was asked out right. Then his mind blanked.
Kurt chuckled at the questions. "It's lovely isn't it? I love the atmosphere and the people. Everyone here is interesting and some of the stories I've heard, you wouldn't believe. Last week, I was sat with a women, must have been in her seventies, and she told me that when she was twenty she fell through a time portal near Versailles and ended up 1796 at the height of the French revolution. Personally, I think she was insane or tripping or something, but it was very entertaining to listen to. She was a very dramatic storyteller."
"Well, that's New York for you." Sebastian laughed. "My first weekend here, a man stopped me outside the subway to ask me to donate money to him to support his space machine. Which turned out to be a cardboard box covered in foil and sharpie."
"You know, I think I met him once."
Sebastian tried not-so-subtly to bring the subject back to Kurt. "Have you lived here long, then?"
Kurt's phone buzzed them, his brow furrowing as he read what must have been a text. "Oh shoot, I have to go. Trains to catch, cats to feed."
Kurt stood abruptly, dropping the label of the cup he'd been picking at on the table and stood up to leave, lifting his bag on his shoulder and smoothing down his jacket, adjusting a couple of the buttons.
"Wait, I didn't even catch your name." Sebastian called after him.
Kurt worried his bottom lip as he thought about his response.
"You know what?" He said, with a cheeky smile, Sebastian couldn't help but return it. "I'll let you guess."
"Really? You want me to guess your name?" Sebastian replied, cocking his eyebrow at the man.
"Umhum." He beamed back, taking a sip of his mocha. Sebastian just stared.
"Don't you think that's a bit silly?"
"I think it sounds fun." He said, eyes wide and excited.
"How old are you? Five?"
"Your loss. But the only way you're finding out is if you guess it correctly." He shrugged, with mock sympathy for the other man.
"And if I can't?" Sebastian gaped.
"Better luck next time." Kurt winked.
"But I might never see you again."
"You want to see me again?" Kurt said, and Sebastian debated with whether this counted as flirting.
"Maybe." He muttered, blushing slightly at being called out so blatantly. There was a pause.
"Are you going to guess, then?"
"Fine. You win." He paused. He pursed his lips, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling as he tilted his head back. He glanced back at him, trying to filter out a name that suited him. When he couldn't think of anything that felt right, he glanced around the shop for inspiration.
"Charlie?" He hesitated; it was the name of the barista who had served them earlier.
Kurt scrunched up his face again and for a fleeting moment Sebastian thought he might have gotten it right on the first try.
"I look like a Charlie?" He asked, intrigued.
"Maybe, I don't know. I can kind of see it."
Kurt just smiled, enjoying the game.
"Can I have a clue?"
"Nope." He smiled.
"Not even a small one?"
Kurt shook his head. Sebastian sighed.
"Right. A name, a name." He muttered to himself. Kurt moved to sit down again, knowing Sebastian might take a while. "I really don't know." He dropped his hands into his lap. "Thomas?"
Kurt pulled a face and pointed his thumb downwards. Sebastian frowned and drummed his hands on the table.
"How am I supposed to have a chance at getting this right if you won't help me out?"
"You have one more guess." Was all Kurt said.
"What? No. No, that wasn't the deal." He sat forward in his chair.
"Do you think I have time to spend all day sitting here whilst you try and guess my name?"
"No." He stuttered. "I just really want to know."
"Be my guest." He gestured with his hands.
"What does it begin with?"
Kurt sipped his drink.
"How long is it?" He tried.
Nothing.
"Is it a common name?"
Kurt reached inside his blazer and pulled out a pen, he began scribbling something on a napkin in front of him.
"You suck." Sebastian sighed.
Kurt smiled, tucking his pen back into his blazer.
"Freddie?"
"Ha. Nope. Until next time." Kurt replaced the satchel on his shoulder and stood up to leave.
"I like that you assume there will be." Sebastian called, and Kurt laughed as he walked away.
"G'bye, meerkat." He called over his shoulder.
"See you around, elf prince." Kurt's steps faltered as he turned around to stare at Sebastian with wide eyes. The faintest blush began to colour his cheeks as he searches Sebastian's face. He shook himself out of it a few moments later, offering Sebastian a small wave before he continues walking and pushed through the door.
Sebastian stared as the door closed behind him, following his figure through the crowd until he was out of sight. He stayed sat there, mentally running through every name he could think of until he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket. He briefly glanced at the caller ID before accepting the call.
"Santana." He said in lieu of a proper greeting.
"Are you coming back soon?" She said, skipping straight to the point.
"I'm just about to head back, yeah. Why, what do you want?"
"Could you pick up a take out on your way or something? I'm not in the mood to cook."
"I don't know." He teased.
"Seb."
"Of course. What do you want?" He laughed.
"Anything. The first decent place you come across will do." He could practically feel her bluntness through the phone.
"Are you okay?"
"Wanky." She paused. "Just a long day." She sighed.
"I'll be about twenty minutes."
"Where are you, anyway?"
"Just stopped for some coffee."
"You need to be put in a twelve step program I swear." She said, and this time he could hear her eyes roll.
"I do not."
"It's for your own good."
"Maybe it will be for your own good that I don't bring you take out back, then."
"Fuck you."
"See you soon, Snix." He said and hung up.
He stared at his now blank screen for a couple more minutes before the napkin caught his attention and he dragged it across the table towards him. It was folded in half, the first few digits of what could be a phone number visible in the corner. He unfolded it and smoothed it out a little as he turned it around to read the scrawl.
The nameless bookshop-wandering, photo-bombing, scrunchy faced guy had written "I bet for a second you thought this was my phone number, sorry xoxo."
Sebastian sat for a few moments, a goofy smile plastered on his face, when he realised that he'd actually learnt nothing about this man apart from that clearly, he loved playing mind games. Sebastian had told him much more than he'd got back, and suddenly he wasn't smiling anymore.
He grabbed his things, the napkin still in hand, then headed to re-join the queue to buy another Grande latte before he left. He stopped at a little Italian place a block away from their apartment to pick up a pizza to share since they'd had sushi the night before.
"Did you get even more coffee? I can smell it from here, jeez." Santana asked when he had half a foot through the door as he placed the pizza box on the table.
"Not for you." He replied, taking a long sip even though she wasn't in view yet.
"Asshole." She stalked into the hallway, folding her arms when she caught sight of Sebastian.
"Don't you know it." He placed the cup and his keys alongside the pizza on the table, leaning to untie his shoelaces. Santana took this opportunity to steal the coffee whilst he was balanced on one leg.
"Bitch. You give that back!" He called after her retreating form.
"Not likely." She shrugged.
"You don't even like coffee."
"But you do. Too much."
"I hate you." He said as he caught up to her.
Santana blew a kiss in his direction whilst he sat ungracefully on the couch beside her. He kept his gaze fixed on the cup as she lifted it to her mouth, smirking when her face turned sour and she spat the liquid back into the cup.
"Scalding?" He asked.
"You know I hate cinnamon." She pouted, bringing one hand up to catch the drips of coffee around her mouth and slamming the cup of the table in front of them with the other and reaching for a tissue. Sebastian just rocked with silent laughter beside her.
"That's disgusting." She added, glaring at the cup.
"Well it's a good job I didn't buy it for you."
"Why didn't you warn me?" She turned to Sebastian, hitting him on the arm.
"You swooped in and took it before I'd even unbuttoned my coat."
"Did you get food?"
"Italian. By the door." She left the room to retrieve the box.
"Pizza isn't Italian." Santana said when she re-entered the room.
"Um, yes it is?"
"Calling a pizza 'Italian' gives you the impression that it's classy."
"You asked for food."
"Food, not cheese and grease ugh." She flipped open the lid and scrunched her nose.
"Why are you so pissy tonight? I mean, you're always a bitch but wow, who kicked your puppy?" Sebastian asked, as he got up to get some plate and drinks from the kitchen.
"It's just some guy I work with." She called.
"At the internship?" He replied, returning with two wine glasses and a bottle of rosé under his arm. He placed them on the coffee table, reaching for the bottle opener that lay under a pile of books from a previous night in. "I thought you guys were friends now?"
"We kind of were, are, it's just- no one should be that good at everything." She said, exasperated.
"So, you're pissed because he's amazing?" Sebastian asked, holding back a laugh.
"Yes." She said seriously, meeting his eye. "You know we met at the interview and I thought he was a pretentious ass then, with his perfect hair and tailored suit and fucking hippo brooch-"
"He does work in fashion." Sebastian countered.
Santana began to reach for her glass before he'd even started pouring.
She rolled her eyes. "His 'fashion style'," she air quoted, "is worse than Ugly Betty's."
"So what did he do to set you off today?"
"Ugh." She sighed, leaning back against the couch and pulling her knees up to her chest. "It's like his sole purpose in life is just to show me up. He arrived early, despite working two jobs, brought Isabelle and me coffee-" she took a long gulp of the wine.
"Did he get you cinnamon?" Sebastian mock gasped.
"He got me gingerbread. Two pumps."
"Wow, that guy's good."
"I don't even know how he knows half this shit." Sebastian raised his eyebrows in appreciation. "But anyway, then he brought Isabelle her coat, drying cleaned and pressed, the one that she asked me to clean three days ago after some moron spilt coffee on it-"
"Sounds like he's trying a little hard."
"It doesn't even stop there. Last week Isabelle had given us some of the files from the archives to sort through or some shit, to get inspiration for pitching an article idea next month, and he's already got a page full already." She paused for breath. "I don't even know where I put the fucking file. He's going to get me fired." She exclaimed.
"Just write down some shit and shove it in his face." Sebastian shrugged.
"It's. Isabelle. Wright." She gaped, punctuating each word of her name.
"So?"
"So, something I came up with in five minutes whilst getting wasted with you isn't going to cut it." She exclaimed, reaching for a slice of pizza.
"This guy really brings out your competitive side, doesn't he?" Sebastian laughed.
"He's a machine. I don't think he sleeps. Ever. All he does is run around working, working, always holding a coffee cup. It makes me dizzy."
"You're going to have to step up your game, Lopez."
"Oh, I will. Because what Aunty Tana wants, Aunty Tana gets." She said, wiggling her eyebrows.
"I'll do my best to stay away." Sebastian said with no hint of sarcasm.
"What can I say? Snix is back in town." She said, shimming her shoulders into Sebastian's side.
"She has not been missed."
"Ha! What's up with you, anyway? You're in a spectacularly good mood. Did you finally realise you have a working dick?" She gasped.
"Never forgot."
"Go on."
"I got some really great photos, managed to get all the way to and from the park without getting mugged, had a great coffee and..."
"Yawn." She interrupted, faking a large yawn.
"I met a guy." He said as if it wasn't important.
"I knew it!" She exclaimed, hitting his shoulder with a cushion playfully.
Sebastian rolled his eyes.
"What's his name?"
"I don't know." He shrugged, messing with the seam on the cushion to avoid looking at her.
"What do you mean, you don't know?"
"He wouldn't tell me."
"Oh god this isn't another one of those times where you watch from afar, having imaginary conversations and planning your lame, domestic, cutesy futures together is it?"
"No!" Sebastian said defensively.
"For the last time, honey. To have a relationship with someone, you have to talk to them." She teased, speaking to him as if he were a child.
"I spent like, the past three hours talking to him."
"Is he imaginary?"
"No. But he's unearthly beautiful." Sebastian sighed, his eyes glassy.
"Is that so?"
"He looks like an angel or something. It hurts to look at him. In a good way."
Santana rolled her eyes but humoured him anyway. "What does this mystery man do then?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know that either? Do you know anything about him?"
"He's stunning. I think he must be a model or something. If not, that's the greatest tragedy to humanity."
"I'm feeling nostalgic. Shallow, 'I'll sleep with anything that's attractive' teenage Sebastian is back." She said.
"I am not shallow. I see people for what they are." He said, folding his arms. "Which is probably why I haven't dated anyone in years and raises several valid questions as to why I'm still friends with you."
"We're way past that. You can't break up with me now." She pouted.
"Don't think that doesn't mean I haven't thought about it. Why do you think I lock my door at night?" He joked.
"I just assumed you were a chronic masturbator." She nudged.
"You're so vulgar." He replied, turning his attention to the television screen and flicking through a selection of films.
Santana wondered not for the first time where Sebastian "whore of Westerville's gay scene" had gone. The change had been gradual but noticeable, and the cause was never found. Sebastian never talked about his past.