Sequel to the story cycle which includes "Keeping the Klaine Love Real", "We'll Always Have Lima", and "L'Homme Invisible". Future pieces of this cycle will arrive as new chapters under the umbrella title "Lima Noir".
Warnings: Adult language and descriptions of sexual situations, references to self-harm and mental illness
I do not own any part of Glee nor the characters or references therein.
Approximate words this chapter 2,000
Sebastian surveyed the coffee shop. This was the slow period of the afternoon. The high school students had not yet arrived in droves as the local high schools were just finishing classes for the day. Aside from the baristas behind the counter and one at the other side of the dining area who was occupied with wiping down table-tops and the occasional take-out customer, Sebastian was alone in the place.
Kurt had left the parking lot, probably a minute ago. Minutes before that, he'd stormed out of the Lima Bean in tears and sat in his car to calm himself before driving off. Sebastian had assumed correctly that Kurt's first stop after leaving the Lima Bean would be McKinley High School to confront Blaine. Once Kurt's car disappeared in the distance, Sebastian's face shifted from its sincere, approachable expression to his more quintessential Eddie Haskell smirk which he smugly held while he accessed the contacts list of his cell phone and placed a call.
"Sandy Ryerson of Sanderson management speaking," the answering voice crackled through Sebastian's phone.
"Hey there, Daddy," Sebastian's smirk and tone low and flirtatious as always, "It's your favorite love-honey depository, Sebastian, callin' ya."
There was silence for a moment. Mr. Ryerson's eventual response was low with affected control but betraying a hint of nervousness. "Something I can do for you, Sebastian?"
"There's always something Daddy can do for me," Sebastian sassed back. "I was hoping maybe a repeat-performance of you and Blainey-boy using my sweet ass and highly-developed oral skills again."
"Really?" Sandy's inflection mixed confusion with interest, intrigue. "But I thought I made it clear that we weren't interested in dealing with you on a more, um, professional level."
"Listen, Daddy, sure I wanted to be a teen heartthrob like your Blainey-boy, but I'd be lying if I said that I wouldn't have done that for free," Sebastian rasped quietly, "I mean great sex is great sex, regardless of whether I'm getting compensated for it otherwise."
"Hmmm," Sandy's tone became playful. "Well, then, I'm sure we can come to an amicable arrangement, something mutually beneficial then," Sandy's tone was lecherous, unwholesome.
"Oh, by-the-by," Sebastian added, breathy and nonchalant, "I spilled everything to that Kurt Hummel boy, everything about what his dear, sweet Blainey-buck was doing behind his back."
"Hm...hm...hm hm hm hm hm hm..." Sandy's mumbled laughter trailed off.
"That's not going to affect our little slice of heaven, is it?" Sebastian furthered.
"Hmm, no," Sandy dragged out the negation, dismissive. "It was only a matter of time before he found out anyway. This new development will just give me more control over my, um, professional property. You've actually done me a favor, Sebastian."
"Well, then," Sebastian spoke syrupy through a growing smirk, "maybe you do owe me some more tangible compensation then."
"You're good," Sandy stated, smooth and low. "Maybe we can work something out after all."
"I hope so," Sebastian chuckled. "So, when can we do this?"
"Hmmm..." Sandy hummed. "We have a pretty busy rehearsal schedule what with that concert coming up in two weeks, but next Friday, a week from tomorrow, should work for the both of us."
"Sounds good to me," Sebastian answered, cocky-sounding.
"Great then," Sandy answered. "I'll get in touch with my, um, client and inform him of our upcoming, um, meeting. Until then, adieu."
"Be good, Daddy," Sebastian teased, "See you next week."
Sebastian ended the call, a smug expression on his face. He checked the time. It had been ten minutes since Kurt left the coffee shop parking lot. Hopefully his state was rational enough for him to drive safely, Sebastian thought. Otherwise, he was expecting a call from an irate Blaine at any moment. Blaine did not disappoint as Sebastian's phone lit up and buzzed with an incoming call less than three minutes after the conversation with Sandy had ended.
"Well, hey there, Blaine," Sebastian spoke teasingly into the phone, "I was expecting you to call."
"Shut it, Sebastian," Blaine's tone was angry and aggressive but hushed as if he was trying to avoid being heard. "You just fucked-up big time. That video of me and Ryerson fucking you from both ends will be sent to the administrators at Dalton within the half-hour. You'll get kicked off of the Warblers and probably get kicked out of school for that."
"Too late," Sebastian retorted, smug. "I resigned from the Warblers and left Dalton earlier this week; so you've got nothing over my head, and I'm free to get into your pants whenever we both get the urge to swap some fluids."
"What?" Blaine's response was short and unamused. "You think I'd touch your slimy ass again after you pulled a shitty stunt like that? We had an agreement, you filth-pig."
"You were threatening me, Blainey," Sebastian corrected, calm and collected. "A threat is hardly an agreement. And, you and I will be playing naked again. I already arranged it with Daddy Ryerson about five minutes before you called. We're set to go for a week from tomorrow, next Friday."
"You went over my head, you prick?" Blaine spat the question with particular venom and incredulity.
"Blaine, you are no match for me when it comes to being slimy," Sebastian countered, sounding fatigued. "Leave the nasty stuff to your boss."
"He's not my boss," Blaine grumbled.
"Well, whatever he is, you should be damned thankful you have him," Sebastian informed. "You can be all selfish, whiny, and, and belligerent on a personal level, but your bigger-picture organizational skills suck. You're a foot-soldier when it comes to being sneaky. Leave the real nefarious work to Daddy and me. We'll keep you in designer briefs, no worries."
"What are you talking about 'we'?" Blaine yelled through the phone, sounding as if he was becoming mentally unhinged.
"Calm down, Blainey-boy," Sebastian spoke smoothly. "Just think about the fun we're going to have next Friday with Daddy. That should give your pants a chubby."
"Aw, fuck you, Sebastian."
"Blaine, save the rage for next Friday night, and you can grudge-fuck me to your cock's content," Sebastian harassed. "Looking forward to it, but, until then, b-bye."
Sebastian smirked, giggled even, as he heard Blaine end the call without further words. Blaine and Sandy had played into his hands; and Sandy and Sebastian were both pulling Blaine's strings. There was more work to be done, but, for the moment, Sebastian was patient. He might require some assistance, and he had a week to secure the services of another.
She gazed at the photo, then into the mirror, then at the other photo.
The first image seemed like something from fiction, a fairy tale. Did this girl ever exist? she thought to herself. Was there ever a full-faced, naturally-pretty, fair-haired innocent? Or was she just a dream of the person reflected before her now?
The girl who addressed the photo, then the mirror, bore little resemblance. The girl in the mirror's face was chiseled and gaunt, though not unattractive. Her eyes were painted darkly; her hair short and cropped, giving her a sexually indistinct, androgynous appearance when taken together with her hollowed features. She considered the dream. Or was it a memory? Or a fable? Was there ever a girl named Celia?
It was a cautionary tale, perhaps, the kind that parents tell their children in order to keep them safe: Red Riding Hood and Hansel and Gretel and the like. It was a new story, though, about an innocent girl named Celia.
Celia traveled a dangerous landscape, though unlike her classic children's-tale counterparts, it wasn't a aged forest; it was the halls of a high school, a modern jungle of natural, unnatural, and supernatural selection. The dark boy was charming but marked with experience, and Celia found herself hypnotized by him. He sung sweetly, first to the crowd, then to Celia alone, then again, then again. He was charming and confident, and Celia allowed him to take anything he wanted from her. On the night he took her at the old man's house, she thought she felt the ownership of her soul slip, and her name became forgotten. When the dark boy asked of her to feign intimate relations with the teacher, she did so without question, and her soul darkened. When the boy began to ignore her, she pleaded for his attention. When the boy humiliated her with the other residents of the jungle, she became erased.
The calendar showed that one month had passed between the slow elimination of Celia and the birth of Karyn: one month from the end of the children's tale to the earliest of Karyn's memories. Karyn was born out of darkness into a world of near-darkness. She was born into an eighteen-year-old body on her first night of life. Her only memories were those of the girl named Celia which became clouded and vague at the end. The fading scars on Karyn's arms and legs were the hazy recollections of Celia's last will and testament, written in soft, warm, soiled flesh and with a straight-razor, the pain she could control, the pain that made the world go dark. And then it smelled of chemicals and sanitary white walls, and talking, and words, and words, and more words. And when the body awoke, Celia no longer owned it; it belonged fully to Karyn. She'd traded Celia's baby-fat for the sinew of bone and muscle. She remained fully animal though only partially human. She was fully aware.
Karyn remembered waking in the room she now inhabited. Its walls were decorated with the images of boy bands and teenaged actors. These things belonged to Celia. Karyn pulled them from the walls and lovingly, respectfully placed them in a box, resigning them to a place in a far corner of her closet. The memory of Celia lived within Karyn; and although Celia had been replaced, Karyn loved Celia as a sister.
Karyn gazed one last time at the photo of Celia; then she looked deep into her own reflection, a beautiful shadow of Celia; then she addressed the other photo. It was a photo of two boys: one dark, one fair. The dark boy was the cause of Celia's pain and dying; the fair one was the dark boy's affection. The fair one dressed in a smart, angular suit; he had soft-looking chestnut-brown hair, styled high, and masculine features with a breath of delicacy. Karyn would assume this fair boy's persona. She drew her attention to the newspaper she had set before her on the dresser, opened to the page with the notice showing the photo of the dark boy, smiling and posed, the advertisement for his concert two weeks and two days from this night. She would meet him. She would be his fair boy. She was Celia. She is Karyn. She could be anything she wanted to be.
The straight razor in her left hand slashed at the newspaper, freeing the concert advertisement from the remainder of the page. She slid the grainy, gray newsprint image of the smiling visage between the glass and frame of her mirror, allowing the tension to hold it there in the space previously occupied by her face. She held the blade as if ready to slash the image. She stood silent and still, studying, loving and hating with her eyes.
A knock roused Karyn from her reverie, a knock followed by an adult woman's voice, an adult woman's voice known to Karyn as 'mother'.
"Celia? Dinner's ready." The voice from beyond the door beckoned.
"Okay, mom, I'll be out in a minute," Karyn responded. It was time to become Celia again, for the duration of dinner-time, into the light for an hour or so, then back into the darkness and the needs of Karyn for the rest of the night.