4


Sebastian Smythe had woken up with a fresh cup of coffee laid out before him on the table right beside him with a nicely written note by Chandler that told him that breakfast was waiting for him in the fridge and that he had a few things to take care of.

Sebastian had calmed down severely. He honestly didn't know how he was going to do anything with Chandler around all the time. He decided not to weigh himself that morning.

This was going to be a long day with Kurt not around.


It had been two weeks and Chandler wasn't returning any of Sebastian's messages. This meant one thing in Sebastian's mind: shit went down.

That was when he had gone to Chandler's house. Charlotte was standing by the door, looking rather happy and bubbly. Apparently, she did not know about her missing son or Chandler was hiding out in the household.

"Hello, Sebastian," she stated, nodding her head towards him. "Are you okay? You don't look well. Actually, love, you look a bit sick."

"I'm fine," Sebastian called out, not really understanding why people thought he looked sick. "How are you, Lottie?"

He'd forgotten the 'aunt' just like he always had in the past fourteen or so years. The woman had nodded her head. "I'm just fine, sweetheart," she then paused before asking, "Are you here to see Chandler? He's upstairs, cooking up one of his schemes."

"Schemes?" now, this Sebastian had to see. He went upstairs, knocking on the door and Chandler mentioned something about 'being down there for lunch in a second, Mom!' before the brunette had opened the doorway to see the blonde caught in his sea of posters and papers.

"Sebastian!" Chandler flushed when he noticed the brunette was standing by the doorway. "Hi."

"Hi to you too," Sebastian had sat down on one of the chairs, staring at Chandler for the longest of time. "What's up, babe? Why haven't you been answering any of my calls?"

"My phone broke again," the blonde responded, flushing deeply. Of course. He should've thought so. Never give Chandler an iPhone anything – he will break it due to the fact that he was never quite the dancer.

"Of course," Sebastian rolled his eyes before he asked. "Chan, what's this? Your Mother called it one of your schemes."

"Your birthday of course!" Chandler exclaimed. "It's why I had to leave the house. I couldn't risk you overseeing the plans! Now, my surprise birthday party gathering thing is ruined. I had a hard time because I couldn't get Kurt to fly over and see you and it'll be romantic and oh my God, I'd have it secretly taped…"

"That's creepy, Chan," Sebastian shook his head. "It's my birthday soon?"

"Yes! Remember? It's September, and what comes after that? November! Specifically for you, Bassie, November second," Chandler tried to remind him.

"What does that make me? A Libra?" Sebastian asked.

Chandler nearly gasped at that. "Bassie, it makes you a Scorpio – like the Scorpion. You are definitely a Scorpio – Kurt thought your birthday was so fitting to your sign. When's Kurt's birthday?"

"May twenty-one or something," Sebastian answered.

"Oh!" Chandler exclaimed, eyes glittering. "He's Gemini – like the twins. When's my birthday?"

"September sixteen," Sebastian answered without much hesitation. "Shit. I forgot to go to your birthday this year, didn't I?"

"Yeah, but that's okay considering I wasn't even in the country to bug you about it and you just figured out that your Dad had cancer. It's not like you've forgotten it every year," Chandler shook his head, before smiling warmly. "It makes me a Virgo."

Sebastian laughed. "Like the virgin?"

"Shut up," Chandler's cheeks coloured in. He then looked down at his plans before looking up at Sebastian. "Something's upsetting you."

He hated how Chandler knew that without having to say a word to Sebastian. Not really. "Yeah," he sat down beside Chandler, sitting down on some pieces of paper. Oh well. He'd give a fuck later on when he'd have to apologise for it. "You should stop planning Chan because I have to go to my parents' in about a day or two and that's in France."

"Oh," Chandler sounded a little sad but then added on, "why are you sad about that? I thought you loved France."

"I love France," Sebastian said before adding, "I hate my family."

"Oh," Chandler repeated. His voice was a tad weaker than usual. "Is your Father coming with?"

"Yeah, it's been stressing my brothers out from what I know. It's why I was okay with Kurt going to Greece, because I was going to go to France with my family for a while, but I'll be calling Chan. I promise you."

"You better," Chandler whined. "Sebastian, I don't know why but I have a really bad feeling about you going to France now. I don't know why – I just feel like something's going to happen to you."

"I'll be fine," Sebastian softly said.

Chandler studied Sebastian for a long time. "You look so sick, Sebastian."

"Your Mother said the same thing," Sebastian was beginning to sense a pattern here. He shook his head. "I'm fine, Chandler."

"You look like your Father on that hospital bed," Chandler finally said, voice soft.

"Cancer isn't contagious, Chan," Sebastian let out a weak laugh.

Chandler had grabbed the mirror that he had on his bed and showed Sebastian what he meant. Sebastian didn't see anything wrong with his appearance (his face was fatter – that was it). "Don't you see how pale you are? You look so sick, like you hadn't slept or eaten in days."

That was because he hadn't eaten properly in days and as a result, he hadn't slept properly in days. Okay. That made sense now.

Sebastian shook his head. "Don't be silly, Chan. You know you're melodramatic."

"Yeah, you're right," the blonde's voice was soft, before he offered him a sweet smile.

They didn't really say anything after that. Sebastian watched Chandler tuck away his posters and plans. Sebastian suggested burning them. Chandler gave him a glare.

They went downtown for some tea. Chandler said that eating may help Sebastian look better, and the brunette said that he had a huge dinner to go to that night (Adrien's house) and he didn't want to eat before then.

"I know this sounds really weird," the blonde began, shaking his head. "But like…I haven't seen you eat in a while and now, I'm beginning to worry that you're not eating at all."

That was exactly what was happening, but Sebastian wouldn't let Chandler know that – not over his life. Sebastian honestly didn't even know why he did it. He hated starving. He hated waiting for his next meal, and he couldn't stop thinking of food all the bloody time but what could he do? He didn't feel like he could eat. There was something sickening about the thought.

It was like that beef wrap that he was fantasising about eating would add inches around his stomach and inject his fat cells with more and more fat. It was like that strawberry that he was fantasising about was going to have sugar melt all over his being and turn into crippling fat the second that it touched his lips.

There was the panic that Sebastian used to get when he saw his Father come into the house late at night, wondering if he was drunk or not. It was the panic he felt like when he held Christophe's baby and scared he was going to drop something so fragile. It was the panic he felt like when he heard that the last meal his Mother had was three days ago.

It was that kind of panic that was settling in his bones whenever he thought of eating, but at the same time, he needed the flavour – he needed something to look forward to at night. He needed to know that if he just didn't eat for another hour, he could have a delicious, crispy apple salad or anything he wanted. It was his choice, wasn't it?

But it was never his bloody choice. Not ever.

He would never willingly sit there and pick a salad over pasta, or skip dessert. He would never sit there and not order alcohol because he was watching his weight, yet this was what he did – day in and day out. Getting out of it only meant guilt and Sebastian never quite coped well with fucking emotion now, did he?

It must be an emotional issue or something.

He had gone off to Adrien's, and the asshole made the biggest plate of pasta that Sebastian had ever seemed and it smelled good. He had to have a few glasses of water before he ate just because he knew if he didn't – he'd probably eat it all. No food all day or not, he just shouldn't be able to finish that much in one sitting.

He ate quite a little amount of it.

"Is it not nice?" Adrien asked, staring at the pasta that Sebastian knew was probably made with butter, cheese and olive oil in the oven for a long time. Pretty roasted. Delicious too, but he was too fat too enjoy shit like this.

Sebastian shook his head. "I just don't want anything in particular."

"That's a lie," Adrien was starting to sound violent. "You eat every bloody thing that's in front of you. It must not be edible if you're not eating it."

Sebastian honestly felt insulted at that comment. "Fuck off, Adrien. I am not a bottomless pit."

"You better be eating everything I make when we go to France," Adrien threatened, and Sebastian glared back at him. "You're doing this on purpose, aren't you? Making me feel like my cooking isn't good enough?"

"Are you fucking insane?" Sebastian spat out. He honestly didn't know how Adrien worked, but that sounded just about the stupidest thing he bloody heard in his life. "You give me a portion size the size of my fucking ass and expect me to finish it. What the hell is up with that?"

"You used to ask for seconds," Adrien reminded him.

Sebastian's cheeks coloured in at the memory. "Maybe I decided that I'm eating too much all of the time."

"Can't say I don't agree with that," Adrien scoffed, and Sebastian felt his stomach do a flip. "You have gained a bit of pudge around your—"

"Shut up," Sebastian spat out. Chandler was a liar when he told him his weight gain was not noticeable. Kurt wanted him to lose thirty pounds from before, and that stupid Paisley bloke thought that he had forty excess pounds to lose. This was so stupidly bad.

He hadn't weighed himself in days and now, he was so damn scared of the number. He'll weigh himself on the morning just before he'd leave for Paris. He just had to.

So that was what he did. He had come home, packed everything he had. Chandler came by a few hours later, with a few things he wanted Sebastian to wear whilst in Paris, along with a huge camera and told him to take loads of pictures with this huge gleaming smile.

There was talk about Skype and Facebook, and keeping in touch for the next bit of time. Sebastian had zoned out through all of it. He was tired, and he hated fighting with his brothers.

On the day he had his flight, he had stepped on his scale and saw that he was at a less grotesque 174.4. Somehow, he'd lost 7.6 pounds from when he last weighed himself a few weeks ago. He wasn't complaining really. He honestly didn't see it in the mirror though.

Maybe he was just tired.

After the weigh-in, he drank some coffee, and off to Chandler he went to the airport. Chandler was chattering on about the weather (literally) and Sebastian had fallen asleep during the car ride.

Before Sebastian had left, Chandler had given him a warm hug.

The blonde had offered him a smile that Sebastian didn't return. "Bassie, are you sure you're okay?" the blonde asked.

"Yeah," he responded, voice a little dull. "Just tired."

"Your sleeping—"

"I know, I know," Sebastian laughed lightly. He pressed a kiss to Chandler's forehead. "Take care of Scotty for me, okay?"

Chandler nodded his head. "I'll miss you!" he called out soon after, which offered Sebastian a smile.

He just scrambled towards the airplane. He hated the atmosphere of the planes. He hated flights – no matter how short or long. He just curled up in his seat, and fell asleep for most of the time. He hadn't been able to get himself to sleep for so long.

It was only a few moments when he was interrupted by Christophe, whom was discussing shit about his baby boy. Sebastian had drifted off to sleep by then completely.

When he woke up, they went and got their luggage. The ride back 'home' had been pretty long. Sebastian forgot when he stopped thinking of that huge mansion as home. It just wasn't anymore. His heart started racing in his chest when he saw that his Nona was standing outside the doorway there to greet him. They'd always called her Nona since his Father was originally Italian and Sebastian had been raised up calling the woman Nona.

He practically raced towards her and gave her a huge hug and she hugged him back as tightly as ever. For an old grandmother, that woman practically broke his bones in that embrace.

"Is Renee coming over?" Nona spat out with a venomous tone to her voice. "I don't want her to bring Jeremy over. Where's Jean?"

"I'm right here, Mother," Jean had called out just as he walked towards her. Sebastian stared at the man – still thin, still weak-looking and it made Sebastian want to starve himself relentlessly or puke out whatever was in him that was considered substance. The puking part got to him. That didn't make any sense. Oh well. He'd never voluntarily puke out anything he ate so it wasn't important.

"Oh, Jean," Nona moved towards him, abandoning Sebastian completely. "Why are you so thin?"

Sebastian wanted to hear that – directed to him about his mediocre weight loss. It was still weight gain as far as he was concerned. He just lost some of the weight he gained back.

He walked in, expecting to see his Mother so he'd whine towards her but of course, she didn't exist anymore. Somehow, the thought of that made him want to go back to Ohio. He can't stay here – his Mother bloody died here. His Mother's soul was here. She was somehow here everywhere he fucking turned. Why the hell didn't he think of this before he booked the tickets for two fucking months here?

Two fucking months. He could barely stand two fucking minutes here.

He hated this. He took his trolley upstairs, and went up to the room they'd always given him. No. Occupied by Christophe and his million children.

"You can take Mother's room." Christophe muttered.

"I don't fucking want my dead Mother's room!" Sebastian snapped, not meaning to.

Christophe snorted. "Come on, Sebastian. I can't take the boys there. They'd break everything. Adrien's not gotten over her death, and you're stronger than Addy. Tommy's not going to take that room. It's too pink or something. He swears he gets nightmares because of that colour."

"Thanks," Sebastian spat out. "Because I've completely gotten over her death."

"Just go into the room, Sebastian," this time, Christophe's words were a demand.

He had finally given up in just about a few seconds and stormed off to his Mother's room. Nathalie's room was rather pastel-coloured. It smelled like her. It was her.

This was her in a room. He knew it too.

He took his phone and was contemplating phoning Kurt. He hadn't talked to the brunette in weeks and he was missing him quite a bit. He had placed his phone on his bed. He'd call Kurt straight after he had to eat. His Nona was impatient and was calling him downstairs.

Behold – food was involved. "You had a long flight and you all need to eat."

No, he did not. He had enough fat on him to survive the holocaust as far as he was concerned. He sat down on the chair and stared at the array of options he had in front of him. He wanted to eat just about everything. He also wanted to cry because there was all this food in front of him.

He watched his Father pick up his napkin, smoothing it over the plate he had in front of him. The man had picked himself a good amount of steak salad as a side, some pasta and then a piece of bread. Adrien seemed to be whining about how he should've been making everything.

Sebastian found himself picking up a sandwich from the centre of the table. It looked small. He pulled off the crusts. And a bit more bread. He took a bite, threw off a bit more bread. Took a bite, threw off a bit more bread—he looked up just to see if anyone was staring at him and realised nobody gave a damn. After his sandwich ploy, he picked up a hardboiled egg, noshed on that for a bit. He hated their hour long dinners.

When he was done with the egg, he just stared at them waiting for them to finish off. Usually, his Nona would tell him to eat three times more than he originally planned but the woman was damned busy telling Jean to eat everything on the table which was more than fine by Sebastian's standards.

Just as he was done with whatever it was he had, Jean had said something that Sebastian didn't want to hear.

"Sebastian, have you not sent out wedding invitations yet?"

Sebastian felt sick. He didn't want his family at the wedding—something that Kurt had agreed on a long time ago considering that Sebastian's family had a history of homophobia that Sebastian never wanted to discuss.

"N-n-no," Sebastian stuttered. He felt like a fucking idiot for stuttering.

"Do it soon then." Jean said, staring at him for a long time. "It's almost as if you didn't want your dearest Nona seeing you get married to a lovely boy," he said the last bit as if it was poison.

No. No. No. No. NO! Sebastian's heart was racing at this point. He'd never come out to his extended family. He'd come out to his Father, and his Mother, but that was about it. Nathalie was understood but Jean did not. He pursed his lips together as tightly as possible. He turned to look at his Nona, whom apparently had harboured a sudden hate for him.

His aunts didn't look too interested in the idea, and certainly not his uncles. Sebastian could count very few that were actually into the idea. His brothers weren't comfortable with that idea at all.

Sebastian felt queasy all of a sudden.

"Problem, Sebastian?" Jean was actually getting on Sebastian's nerves. "Do you want to mention to everyone else how you wanted to pose in androgynous clothing as well? Of course, I managed to talk you out of it. You've never made much sense."

"You fucking threatened me, you little shit!" Sebastian spat out.

All they could see was the hormonal gay son yelling at his cancer-ridden Father. That was all they could see. He would never forget that look of actual fear in his Nona's eyes, or how Adrien looked like he was nearly going to puke.

"Go upstairs, Sebastian," Christophe had finally said. "Now. My boys don't near to hear any of this, okay?"

"And don't fucking come back down again," Adrien sighed deeply. "I've always known you were different, Sebastian. You're just sick different, aren't you?"

Sebastian's shoulders were shaking. "Just because we kiss different people doesn't mean that I'm a different person, I—"

"You don't understand it, do you?" Adrien spat out, standing up from his position and staring at Sebastian with hard eyes. "This was the last straw. I don't give a fuck about who you're making out with – but you do not yell at my Father like that Sebastian. You do not yell at a man that is suffering through cancer like that, alright? You don't yell at all. You go upstairs, and don't come back down. The less we see of you on this vacation and in our lives, the better. Things were just meant to be this way."

Sebastian stormed out of the room. He was unhappy. He was just about to call Kurt, but he was angry and the food was making him sick.

A few minutes later, he found himself slouched over the toilet, trying to puke. Maybe he should never say never.


xo Peanut Butter/Sam