Somehow, they ended up at the Lima Bean just as the sun was starting to rise. It didn't seem to matter that they both had school in a couple hours; Blaine disappeared into the bathroom when they got there in a pointless attempt to try to clean himself up, and when he came back, Sebastian was sitting at a two-seater table, a cup of coffee in his hand, and another across from him at the table. Medium drip.

"Thank you," Blaine said, voice a little hoarse as he sat down. Not just for the coffee. And even then, it didn't seem like enough. He'd had no right to call Sebastian like he had, and Sebastian'd had no reason to come get him like he had. They didn't owe each other anything. They were friends, yeah, but not particularly close ones. And to Blaine, this seemed like something someone did with their best friend, the whole 'break-up hand up' thing.

Not that there was anyone else lining up for the job.

Gift horse. Mouth, he thought dryly, and took a sip of his coffee. It didn't matter that it was still scalding; it felt good to drink something warm. He felt cold, all the way in his bones. He ached, in such a deep, visceral way. Even just sitting there, doing something as normal as drinking coffee, was a welcome change.

He very pointedly didn't let himself imagine how many times he and Kurt had done the same thing. It helped that the table Sebastian had chosen was on the opposite side of the café from the one he and Kurt usually sat at. He wondered for a second if Sebastian had done it on purpose, then realized what a stupid question it was. Of course he did. Sebastian didn't do anything accidentally.

"How's the coffee?"

Blaine snapped out of his little mental reverie at the sound of Sebastian's voice, looking up with tired eyes at him and blinking for a moment before he actually caught up to the question. "Good," he said finally.

"I got the right thing?"

It was only sort of a question, but Blaine nodded anyway. "Yeah." And then, as an afterthought, he added, "Thanks again. For everything, I mean."

But Sebastian waved him off, flashing him one of those smiles that probably made just about everybody swoon. It just made Blaine feel worse, though, because the way it crinkled up his eyes, it really made the shadows stand out that much more and reminded him that he'd woken him up at the ass crack of dawn.

"You don't have to keep thanking me," he said easily. It wasn't the sort of grandiose brush off, either. He genuinely seemed to mean it.

Blaine narrowed his eyes in what he hoped was a teasing expression. "Who are you and what have you done with Sebastian Smythe?"

It wasn't exactly up to par, but it got a chuckle from Sebastian, so it couldn't have been that awful. Or maybe he's just humoring me. God, he hoped not. That was a level of pathetic even he was hoping to avoid.

"I killed him and stuffed him in the trunk of my car. I'm really just glad you didn't notice the smell."

He actually snorted, and then promptly winced. Oh God. He groaned and dropped his head on the table. Now all he needed to do was pick his nose in public and he would've completed the Party Foul trifecta. He raised his head, though, when he felt Sebastian nudge his arm. "What?"

"Stop sulking," Sebastian said bluntly. It was a sharp change of pace from the good-natured teasing, and for a moment, Blaine was taken aback.

"I'm sorry?"

Sebastian didn't so much as blink. "I said stop sulking. Stop hating yourself. Stop all of it."

"I can't."

"Yes you can, Blaine. You just don't want to."

"Don't want to?" Blaine snapped a little louder than he probably should've, and then abated a little when the few people in the beanery turned to look at him. Super. Now we're making a scene. He took a breath, then continued softer, "Why wouldn't I want to? You don't understand. I feel like a monster. Like the bad guy in my own personal Rom Com. I feel sick, like I can't breathe, and it hurts, Sebastian. It hurts so much. Why wouldn't I want to stop feeling like this?" he demanded.

"Because you're punishing yourself," Sebastian said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You feel bad about what you did—"

"Of course I do! Why wouldn't I?"

"I'm not saying you shouldn't."

Blaine stopped short. "What?" He was confused. "What are you talking about?"

Sebastian sighed, then leaned forward across the table, eyes holding Blaine's firmly. "You hurt a good, albeit melodramatic, person, doing what you did. So yeah, feel bad. Have a good cry, listen to Celine Dion albums until your ears bleed, send him flowers and chocolates until you turn him fat and allergenic. But stop hating yourself, for God's sake." Reaching across the table, Sebastian put a hand on Blaine's arm. "You made a mistake, Blaine. A big mistake, but you're only human. We all do it; take it from someone who knows. But you're not a bad person. You're not a monster; you're not the bad guy. You just screwed up."

"But I—"

"You know," Sebastian interrupted him unabashedly, "when you first told me what happened, I was a little surprised. Disappointed, even."

Blaine felt his stomach flip. Disappointed. The word echoed in his head. He felt sick, and tried to pull his arm back, but Sebastian tightened his grip.

"Would you take a break from the angst and self-recrimination marathon in your head and listen to me for a second?" He sounded exasperated, and the eye roll kind of completed the look. "What I was trying to say before you jumped to conclusions, is that I was disappointed. To be honest, I kind of thought that if you were going to stray outside your bonds of exclusivity, it would be my bed you'd wander into." He paused. "That was crass."

"You think?" It was the best he could come up with, because honestly, he was kind of reeling from that development. Sebastian had never really kept it much of a secret that he was interested. Blaine just hadn't thought…well, that is, he hadn't considered…. "I really am an ass, aren't I?"

Sebastian let go of Blaine's arm just long enough to smack it. "I told you to cut that out," he said. "I also said was. Note the past tense."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I'm really not in the mood for a grammar lesson right now."

"Good. I wasn't planning on giving one. What I was planning to tell you was that, yeah, I was disappointed. For all of the ten seconds it took me to realize how miserable you were. I mean Jesus, Blaine, you'd think you were the Pope himself, not a high school senior. So you slept with one guy. And there you were, acting like you were the worst person alive."

Blaine frowned. "Want to keep belittling me some more, or did you actually have a point to all this?" Because so far, all he felt was worse. And stupid, to boot, for feeling that way in the first place.

"The point," Sebastian said, "is that, as soon as I realized how torn up you were about all this, I was glad it wasn't me. Because I would never want to be the reason you felt like that."

Blaine stared at him. "Why are you telling me this?" he asked softly.

Sebastian gave a one-sided shrug. "To make a point, I suppose. You felt like shit for what you did; it doesn't take a genius to see that."

"That doesn't erase what I did."

"But it means you're not the ass you seem to think you are. So maybe just remember that, next time you start to grimace at your own reflection. You're a good guy. Probably one of the best ones I know. So take whatever time you need to get over it, try whatever you need to to get him back – if you want him back – but you're not the Anti-Christ. Any guy'd still be lucky to have you, Blaine Anderson."

For a moment, it was all Blaine could do to swallow back the lump that had risen in his throat. He'd never heard Sebastian talk like that. He'd complimented him before, yeah, but it was always so superficial. So feigned. This was…genuine. Earnest. And Blaine wasn't sure what to do with it, especially not now. He wanted to argue. To deny it. But he couldn't, not when Sebastian was looking at him like that. So, he said the only thing he could think of to say: "Thank you."

Sebastian scoffed, and just like that, it felt like the cloud hanging over the table cleared. "There you go again. Thank you. Remind me to buy you a dictionary for your birthday."

"Remind you to buy me something for my birthday? I thought you said I wasn't an ass." It still rang in a little weak, a little strained, but he was trying. He really was trying to at least put on a brave face.

Smiling, Sebastian just drained the last of his coffee and nodded to the cup in Blaine's hand. "You gonna finish that?" he asked.

Blaine glanced down. He'd almost forgotten. But he nodded. "Yeah." Then he saw Sebastian's watch. "But I can drink it on the way, if you need to get to school. I know Dalton starts earlier than McKinley."

Sebastian let out a purely theatrical moan. "Don't remind me," he said, standing and nudging his chair back under the table with his hip. He held out a hand for Blaine to take, not because he really needed to be helped up, but mostly just…being friendly, Blaine guessed.

Friendly. Huh. What a thought. Sebastian, friendly.

Weirdly, he realized he could really get used to it. Another time, though. For now, he accepted Sebastian's hand, and followed him out.

"I do miss the blazer sometimes," Blaine admitted lightly as they left the beanery.

To his surprise, though, Sebastian gave a dismissive sort of hum. "I don't know," he said. "Sometimes, I think I wouldn't mind a change of scenery."