The third time they saw each other... God, he really wished he could forget that one.

He used to believe it was all Dave's fault. Come to really think about it, it was more a combination of things. A snowball effect.

The weather was the first culprit. Uncommonly warm, so he didn't bring a jacket that night. So he had nothing on but his shirt. No possible replacement.

Second was the 2 for 1 special on his favourite shot. Made him down 14 of them over he course of an hour. For a guy his shape, it was more than enough to impair reflexes.

Third to blame was that over-enthusiastic guy, determined to impress Sebastian on the dance floor. Except over-the-top moves were not meant to be performed with a full pint in hand.

So really, while Dave did knock into the dancer and made him spill the entire content of the glass on Sebastian's pure silk shirt, he was not the sole factor involved in that mess.

As soon as the cold, stinging liquid poured over his chest, he slapped Dave hard across the face. Instincts, you know, and then he just rushed to the bathroom. He never was that attached to his clothes, but there was a limit. He had no plan to smell of stale beer and ruined fabric for the rest of the evening. Stumbling through the crowd, thinking only of how he would make himself somewhat presentable, he never noticed that Dave, red-faced and mumbling apologies, was hot on his heels.

Again, in retrospect, it was more his own fault. In his drunken state, he didn't check before unbuttoning his shirt, shrugging it off and dumping it in the sink. He would have done so, normally. He would have locked the door first, secured his surroundings before exposing himself so. He would have protected his secret.

Tough shit, because he didn't. Worse, it took him a full minute to notice Dave. When, looking in the mirror, he caught sight of him in the open doorway, he knew it was too late. He'd seen it. He grabbed the soaked garment, tried to hold it up his chest to cover it. Foolishly, awkwardly, unsuccessfully.

With three steps, Dave was standing right in front of him, so fucking close it scared the breath away from Sebastian. They stared at each other. Without saying a word, without asking for permission, Dave grabbed the dripping wet shirt, deposited back in the sink. Then he looked down.

Never before had Sebastian let someone see it, outside of his parents and doctors. It was tricky, involved some ingenuity when it came to gym class (he would change in the bathroom, dress back up in the shower stall) or sex (he'd stick to hook-ups, they don't require to fully undress). In any case, it was a first, frightening, like any first can be.

Still silent, Dave lifted one hand and let it course over the puckered flesh. It was a fleeting touch, not quite a caress, more like an exploration. Sebastian was frozen in place, in a fog that blocked out every protest, every sensation, leaving him nothing but the pungent smell of alcohol, the cotton feel of his mouth and the burning that Dave's brushing fingertips were causing over his scar. He couldn't explain why, but he was just letting him discover it as he wished.

It lasted what, maybe 20 seconds? The time to feel every inch of the damaged tissue that ran down his front, from his left shoulder to his navel. After, he simply removed his hand, took a step back. Finally looked back up to Sebastian's terrified face.

"I'm sorry." Dave spoke softly.

Whether he was apologizing for the scar, for touching him or for his previous mishap, Sebastian had no idea. His mouth opened, no words came out. They both stood still, the sound of the running water giving a vaguely darker background noise to the scene. Dave snapped out of it first, approached the sink and started to rinse out the shirt thoroughly. It brought Sebastian back, such an absurd spectacle really (the big jock doing laundry in a gay bar toilet sink?). He crossed his arms protectively, cleared his throat. Walls inside had crumbled, he tried to build them back up, starting with regaining control over the situation.

Dave didn't react to his cough, kept methodically pumping hand soap on the shirt and scrubbing it. Ruining it basically. Sebastian chuckled weakly. "You do realize you're destroying this, right?"

Dave looked back at him in the mirror, without replying. Sebastian could literally feel the atmosphere become tenser, and knew that it wasn't going to be that easy. His shoulders slumped and he leaned against the tiled wall, welcoming its coolness. It was helping with the whole emotionally destroyed/seriously drunk situation he was in.

Dave turned the faucet off. He turned around slowly and once more, Sebastian's breathing stopped abruptly. Something about Dave's face, it was just so open, it showed such…solicitude. Not a sentiment he was used to be directed at him. The inevitable question followed, but he was ready for it. He almost wanted it.

"What happened to you Sebastian…" Dave asked. Hesitance was so plain in his voice, it made Sebastian want to tell it all.

"It was a dumb accident during summer vacation, when I was 15." He let this one phrase slip.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Y-Yeah."

"We were in Positano for a month. My parents have this house near the sea, we go there every year. Anyway, there was this party on the beach one night. Domenic and I were the only ones near the bonfire, the others were all around drinking or messing around in the water. Then this guy walked by and dumped something in the fire. We didn't see what it was and didn't even care. I mean, everybody used it as a trashcan. Then we heard a fizzy sound and next thing I knew my T-shirt was in flames.

Domenic pushed me in the sand and I rolled a few times. I don't remember much after that. I woke up in the hospital, all bandaged up. Domenic came to see me 3 days after I woke up. He was my boyfriend. Maybe I should have mentioned that earlier. Anyway, he was all serious and told me he wasn't ready to handle this. Then he just left me there. I was allowed to go home 3 weeks later. Since then, they did a dozen surgeries and it still looks like shit. You're the first one outside of my family who's seen it. I'm scared any guy who sees me without a shirt will just… run away, grossed out. Like he did. Guess it's true, you never forget your first, especially if he was a jerk."

That was what he had wanted to say, exactly like this, all in one erratic jumble. It didn't happen. This time, he kept quiet once more, merely playing the speech in his head while Dave looked, no, detailed him through confused eyes.

God, he had really wanted to spill his guts. He was the most surprised by this impulse, to take a chance on this weird guy, always on the periphery of his life, and get a load off his chest. He wasn't sure why this one. Sebastian didn't share, he didn't talk. Over the years, among the hundreds of people he came to know, he never felt like opening up to any of them, not even to Domenic. Although he did come close, Dom never pierced Sebastian all the way through. So why was Dave about to? More importantly, why would he want him to?

"No, Karofsky."

His heart sank, his hands got clammy. Dave nodded, took a step back. He started to regret his words but it was too late to backtrack.

The jock handed him his wet, useless shirt. "Hope the beer comes out." he said. Sebastian took it gently, tried to smile to thank him. Dave wasn't looking at him anymore so it didn't work.

The next move actually surprised Sebastian. Dave, very quickly, removed his own shirt and presented it to him.

"Here. It won't fit but at least you'll have something on."

Dave was staring once again, straight at Seb. A stare Seb found hard to return. He swallowed hard, muttered a thank you as he took the black shirt. He eyed Dave's thin undershirt. "Will you… Are you going to be OK with just that?" he asked softly. Indifferently, of course.

Dave shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "Sure. I was leaving anyway. Bye, Sebastian."

So he didn't give up first, Dave left right then. Seb didn't relish the tremendous solitude of Scandals' bathroom that followed this departure as much as usual. The surreal events kept playing over and over in his head. Dave, being so fucking… attentive. After the last time, when he pushed him away, it made even less sense. Besides, he wasn't nowhere near a state allowing him to understand the jock's attitude. So he did what he could, what he always did when he couldn't resolve something. He fled, minutes after Dave did.