ALRIGHT! So, I've finally started writing happier things! Or, close to it! ...But this isn't it so HOLD TIGHT. I'll be posting more because I'm writing more, but I go back to work tomorrow so we'll see if it keeps flowing like this. This ones one of the shortest yet, so I might post again today or tomorrow, just because!
Nine days.
Nine days, seventeen hours.
Nine days, seventeen hours, and forty minutes.
That's where he drew the line. Counting down the seconds made him pathetic. Of course, knowing the exact amount of minutes since he had last seen Blaine was pathetic enough in itself, but why make it worse?
Forty-one minutes.
He had been doing this to himself since he left Blaine's house. It took him three hours to hate himself for walking out, two days to realize he shouldn't have, and five days to know he wasn't going to speak to Blaine until he reached out.
The selfish part of him refused to do it. He wanted Blaine to come to him. He wanted to be reached out to.
And he knew that was bullshit. Blaine had reached out to him so much since he made the mistake taking up residence on his porch. Calling, texting, trying to talk to him; Blaine had started all of this. He had cared enough to try.
Yet, sitting on his bed with his phone in his hand, watching the minutes tick on, Sebastian couldn't make himself do the same. He wanted to, really. He wanted to dial Blaine's number and apologize. He needed to tell him how sorry he was for taking advantage of him. As heartless as he could be, Blaine tore at something inside of him and gave him feelings.
It was honestly disgusting.
Fifty minutes.
He opened his contacts. Scrolling until he found the shot he had snapped of Blaine in Lima one day, he clicked on the little picture. A list of contact information appeared, Blaine's name displayed in bright white over it all. A phone number, an email address, and he even had his Skype name saved.
All of the ways to communicate and he couldn't even press a damn button.
He shut it all down, tossing the phone to the edge of his bed and falling back onto his pillows. He was such a coward.
The punching bag shook violently as Blaine's fists pounded into it. He was doing his best to shake the hook right out of the ceiling and, by the way it was rocking, he had a feeling he was getting close.
The gym had become his home away from home. His day consisted of waking up, going to school, leaving early for the gym, and dragging himself into bed once he got kicked out. His parents didn't ask questions, but he got the feeling they didn't care.
For the first few nights, he slept on the couch, because his sheets smelled like sex and Sebastian.
Except he hadn't actually slept a wink that first night, with thoughts of Kurt and Sebastian and what he had done all waging a war inside of his brain. He had cried and tossed and turned, hating himself and then hating Sebastian and then hating Kurt. But it always came back to him. He was the one at fault here. He couldn't truly blame either of them for his decisions and he knew it.
So instead he fought. He fought guys at the gym, the punching bag, but mostly he fought himself. He fought his thoughts and he fought any decision making, because he knew there was a decision to be made.
To tell Kurt, or not to tell Kurt.
It seemed so simple, but he knew. Once the choice was made, there was no going back.
To keep Kurt, or to lose him.
The hook groaned in protest as the punches came faster and he shut down his thoughts.
He wouldn't decide now.
Nine days, eighteen hours.
