Nightshift

Chapter 14

Scars

BOOM ANOTHER CHAPTER. YOU'RE WELCOME. Jk. I had all kinds of extra time today so I wanted to put up another chapter as a sorry for being awful at updating. This chapter holds trigger warnings for a few things so just be aware. Thank you to Loki Firefox, gleeville (who is not a girl, which I apologize for), Whitesman35, John W. Black(Happy belated Birthday!), and blam93 for all of their reviews!

Please take the chance to review and leave me some love! The character epilogue for Neighbors will also be posted when I update next! If you want it early just answer the question from the last chapter! Enjoy! :)

Mike was laying in his bed, looking over the homework sheet his Psych professor had given him that morning. It had only been one day of classes and he was already exhausted. Between tutoring Santana, Finn, Becky and Brittany that day, the homework and long night that was ahead of him and still making sure that he saw Blaine enough, Mike knew that the semester was going to be his toughest yet. He closed his eyes for a moment, only to have them opened by the vibration of his phone next to him. Figuring it was Blaine. He slid the lock on the screen to discover that his tutoring session with Sebastian didn't go as well as he had predicted and that he would be in the coffee shop.

Mike text back a promise of meeting him there so they could work on homework together. As soon as he stood though, his plans of finding proper clothes to leave in were interrupted by a knock at the door. Confused, and slightly irritated, thanks to him being tired, he walked towards the door as he looked behind him to find it was almost nine at night. Who would be at his door this late? When Mike opened the door he found an unexpected visitor in a light brown corduroy jacket, blue jeans, Dirty converse and a white t-shirt, Sam Evans.

"No." Mike said rudely and began to shut the door.

"Mike, please just hear me out." Sam plead as he stopped the door with his hand. "All you have to do is listen."

Mike scoffed as he opened the door wider. "The last time you said that to me, you broke my heart. Besides, I have to meet Blaine somewhere." He hissed, his eyes burning into Sam's.

"Blaine just now knows I'm here to talk to you. I text him before I knocked." Mike rolled his eyes. "Please?" Sam said, his tone even, but his gaze not breaking away from Mike's.

Mike's mind replayed the moment that Sam left through his window. He had hurt Mike. He tore his heart out and threw out of the window in front of him. He didn't even look sorry, at least if he did, Mike couldn't remember correctly. He didn't even let Mike ask questions. He made the final decision. He left Mike alone and clueless and broken, and now he was back in Mike's life, trying to take his boyfriend, the one person who couldn't afford to be hurt again.

"I promise I'll answer all of your question Mike." Sam said, bringing Mike out of his mind. "Anything you want, I'll answer it as honestly as I can. No more secrets. I promise."

Mike stayed silent. His mind kept telling him it was a bad idea. It was only going to end horribly. On the other hand, his heart ached for the closure. It ached to know why he left. Why he just left him alone in the darkness of his room. He wanted to know why Sam said all of those things that made Mike feel so special and then in only a second, he told him that he didn't want to see him again.

"Fine," Mike decided, his voice only a whisper. "but come in. People are nosey." He turned away from Sam and moved across the room towards the chair in front of Blaine's desk. Mike sat only seconds after the door clicked shut. He gestured for Sam to sit on his bed, which Sam did. The mood was already thick with silent intensity, and the pair hadn't even began to talk.

After a moment, Sam sighed and pulled his jacket off. He looked up a Mike, who was staring him down."What do you want to know?" he sighed.

"Why did you leave me?" Mike asked, his anger apparent. "Why did you leave me in a flash of a second and disappear from everything? Why are you going after Blaine? What's your deal with Sebastian? Why are you even here?"

Sam stayed quiet for some time, staring at Mike like he didn't hear the questions he was asked. Before he spoke, he breathed inwards again. "First," Sam said, his tone quiet. "I never wanted to leave you. I was made to." Mike shot him a look of confusion, but stayed quiet. "That night, my parents stormed into my room and told me that somebody had let it slip to them that we were together. They demanded that I tell them the truth, and I told them it was all a lie and my mother just watched as my dad beat the hell out of me. When he was done, my father told me that if he ever saw us together, besides on the football field," he rolled his eyes, "That he would literally beat the shit out of you." Suddenly it clicked in Mike's head. "I broke up with you that same night to protect you Mike. I hated myself for it. I love you Mike, but I've hurt you so bad that I could never, ever forgive myself." Sam's voice broke, but he shook it off.

"Secondly, the night I met Blaine, roughly three months after I broke us up, I finally told my parents I was gay, and that you and I had actually been together. My dad was so pissed, but before he could hit me again I left. I went to that damn diner and met Blaine. After a while, my parents called and told me they wanted me home. I wanted them to love me so bad that I fell for it. As soon as I got home my parents sent me to some bullshit straight camp. I was stuck there until I turned eighteen. I had no contact with the outside world." Mike actually felt himself crying, but he ignored it. Sam stood, his eyes falling to the ground.

"I didn't look for you because I was positive you hated me. I knew that if I came to you that you would send me away the same way I did. I had no one. No one except for Blaine. I went to that diner and they told me he was nowhere to be found. I worked there for a while, and one night Sebastian came in, claiming to know Blaine. He gave me his number and gave me false hope of actually having someone in my life who didn't think I was a waste of life." Sam was pacing now, and Mike's blurry eyes followed him.

"Eventually I figured out Sebastian lied to me. One night he came to my house and told me to come drinking with him. I agreed, thinking that even though Sebastian was the shittiest person I had ever met, at least I would have one friend. I got drunk that night and after Sebastian tried to have sex with me, you guys walked in." Sam finished, and sighed as he sit down on the bed, looking expectantly at Mike.

Mike wiped the tears from his cheeks and chin and stayed silent for a minute, absorbing all of Sam's story. He let all of the pieces fall into place, all of the connections be made before he spoke.

"It all makes sense Sam." He said, his voice weak. "But how do I know you're telling me the truth?"

Sam chuckled to himself. "You don't." He said. "You have no reason to trust me for anything I just told you," He scooted closer to Mike, his butt only barely on the mattress. "but ask yourself this question; if you didn't would you be crying?"

Mike stared into his eyes, looking for any scrap of a lie. Sam never broke the eye contact. "I believe you Sam." He whispered. "I believe everything you said."

Sam smiled warmly. "It's the truth."

Mike chuckled as he literally felt the massive weight get lifted off of his shoulders. "I'm so sorry I stayed angry with you Sam."

Sam's eyebrows scrunched together. "You don't have to apologize. I am the one who needs to. I made this mess, not you, and it's my job to clean it up Mike. I know that you and I will never be together, but I want us to be close again, like we used to be. I still love you Mike."

Mike nodded. "I could live with that." Sam smiled broader this time.

"You mean that?" He asked.

"I do." Mike answered, a smile of his own on his face. "I love you too."

-ooOOoo-

Sebastian was drunk. He didn't care if it was only a Monday night. He didn't care that he had almost three fourths of the bottle of Jack Daniels that was held loosely in his right hand. He didn't care if he got caught by the Dean herself for drinking in his dorm. Nothing mattered to Sebastian anymore. His heart was shattered and only had himself to blame.

Of course Blaine hated him. Why wouldn't he? He was right about everything he said. He was disgusting and foul and arrogant, obviously Blaine wasn't interested and instead of taking a goddamn hint, he threw himself at him, and made sexual comments at every chance he had. He was a drunk, the evidence of that accusation was currently coursing through his veins. The tears ran out of Sebastian's eyeballs as he took another deep drink, trying to make the burn of the alcohol numb him.

And yes, he did lie to Blaine and Sam about everything, but he already had Chang, who was a serious threat, to worry about. If Sebastian allowed Sam to waltz in, Blaine would be gone forever and Mike would have no chance. It was so frustrating for Sebastian because he knew about Sam and Mike. He knew about the relationship they had. He didn't want Blaine to get hurt. He wanted to tell him, even tried once, but that ended in him getting a fist to the face.

He knew that Chang and Sam were going to hurt Blaine. It was only a matter of time. Sebastian tried to keep Sam away. He really did. He thought that if maybe he seduced Sam, he would either forget about Blaine, or he would tell Blaine himself and Sam would be excommunicated. That only failed too the second Blaine and Chang walked in and saw them.

Sebastian loved Blaine. He loved him so much and he wanted nothing but good for him. He knew that his tactics probably weren't the most polite, but he wanted Blaine to take noticed. He wanted his hazel eyes to look at him the same way they sparkled when he saw Chang or Sam.

Sebastian took another long drink and tried to stand, only to fall momentarily, the world not staying horizontal for him. Frustrated, he threw the bottle at the wall, the glass flying it all directions and alcohol coating the wall beside his mirror. Sebastian stood again, this time with much more success. His eyes were glued to his reflection. He walked toward the mirror and looked at himself.

Sebastian looked at his hair first. Normally it was perfectly sculpted to match his facial structure. The blonde and light brown in his hair complemented his golden eyes. His bare chest was riddled with small scares, that healed from the cuts he put there. He counted them once, forty-one. Each scar was there for a time when he felt alone. Each scar representing a time in which he parents left him alone, or a time that someone told him that he was hated. Sebastian began to cry, but he ignored it. He was so used to crying that the tears didn't even bother him anymore.

His eyes moved down to his legs, which were only covered with black briefs. More scars inhabited his thighs. Those scars were only put there after he ran out of room on his chest. Then Sebastian's eyes went to his arms. He actually liked his arms. They were strong and defined. He was proud of them, proud of the work he put into them. They held no scars, no marks of imperfection, he liked them too much to hurt them.

Then again, he didn't feel very like by anyone. Nobody cared about his arms, or his legs, or his chest or hair or eyes or scars. Everyone thought they were arrogant. Everyone thought they were foul. Everything about Sebastian was a drunk.

The tears fell harder now, his chest hurting. As Sebastian looked at his arms he had an idea. Almost too quickly for his alcohol level, Sebastian moved to the bathroom and fumbled around in the drawers. After only a few second he found what he was looking for and as tears fell into the drawer, he moved back to his reflection.

The air smelled of whisky, but Sebastian ignored it. Instead he watched his arm as it raised the scissors up to his left bicep. He watched as the cold steel made a hot cut. He watched the warm blood fall out of the cut. Then, he moved the scissors to the opposite hand and made the same size cut on his left bicep. As the cuts burned, he watched the blood fall all the way down his forearms. He stared at the imperfections on his biceps and silently dedicated them to Blaine.

After the bleeding slowed, the tears began to dry, and sleepiness began to take over, Sebastian walked over to his bed and sat on the edge. He opened the top drawer and grabbed gauze, the gauze he kept there for night like this, and carefully put them over the cuts. As he looked for the tape his eye caught something else glinting in the light. He stared at it, the pain in his arms going away as sifted through the small pieces that surrounded it.

When he was finally able to life the gun out of the small box it lay in, Sebastian got an idea. Without any hesitation his finger moved towards the trigger and he closed his eyes.