This chapter deals with Sebastian's past, who Jacques was and what happened to him.

I know some of you are wary of reading triggering material, so I want to give you a warning that this chapter does mention a suicide. It is nothing graphic, you won't even know how it happened, but it is generally a sad, heavy chapter. Please send me a message if you are hesitant to read and want more information. I have written several chapters thin this universe that are far darker, but I still want to do the right thing and warn about the content.

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, or anything else you might recognize.

From the corner of his eye, Sebastian watches Dave nonchalantly getting comfortable, with some distance to him, but still close. If Sebastian had been any other human being, he would have accepted the support and comfort he's silently giving. But Sebastian isn't that kind of guy, he doesn't turn towards cuddling and mushy conversations when he is having an off day. He usually turns to sex, for distraction and idling time, for some human touch and a social life. But that's obviously not on the plate. So Sebastian doesn't know what to do now, how to deal with this.

Mostly, he wants to hide and never ever think about Jacques again. Even though he doesn't have much personal experience with relationships, he's seen how skeletons can haunt them. He doesn't want there to be any secrets between Dave and him. Dave's told him everything, even his most embarrassing moments, the things he still feels guilty and ashamed about. So Sebastian needs to do this.

"Thank you," he murmurs, accepting the bottle of sports drink Dave brought.

"Not a problem," Dave shrugs, and they both know they're talking about more than some liquid replacement. "You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to say, though."

"Yeah, I do," Sebastian objects. He owes Dave big, actually, but it's no point arguing.

He shuffles further backwards, backing up in a corner, where he curls up. He grabs a pillow to lean his chest on against his bent knees, and wraps his arms around his shins, clasped hands dangling uselessly.

"I've been moving between France and the States since I can remember," he introduces. "Father mostly worked in the embassy, and Mother tutored French kids from rich families in English. Now and then we'd go back to the States for a semester or even a year. Frankly, I didn't care. I got used to moving, and home was my things, and not a building."

Sebastian glances up at Dave, who looks sadly at him.

"Don't you dare pitying me. I had a good childhood. I enrolled at the American school in Paris, I had friends to play with, and DVDs from the States when I got tired of watching TV dubbed to French. I easily learned a second language, and I actually have a cultural upbringing."

Dave swallows loudly and nods. Sebastian looks at him again to make sure he won't say anything he can't bear hearing now.

"Then came high school, and at the time we were located in the States, had been for a year, so I did my Freshman year at Dalton. My parents loved the reputation the school is known for, both academically and socially. It's mostly an elite school for purebreds," he adds to Dave's questioning expression. "It'll look good on my college applications."

"But you were recently in France again?" Dave gently asks, as if he's afraid of rushing Sebastian through his story.

"Yeah, Pops was called back to Paris, so we went. By then I was almost fluent in French, so my parents enrolled me to a French high school. It was private and posh enough to make Dalton look publicly worn down."

"Wow," Dave exhales, sounding impressed.

"I hated it there," Sebastian adds with a quirked eyebrow, and Dave instantly looks sad again. "What my family and I considered being fluent in French, in reality was pidgin French. The natives easily picked up on my accent, I had a limited vocabulary, and basically sounded like a twelve year old. The highschoolers claimed in their stuck-up-ness that they couldn't understand me, they mocked the English shining through my French, they made fun of me by using words I didn't know, and they held competitions to see who could speak the fastest and confuse me the most."

"I'm so sorry," Dave mumbles.

"Were you there?" Sebastian asks pointedly, and the other boy shakes his head in resignation.

"It wasn't all bad, but it wasn't as easy as I thought it would be. I had to work my ass off to keep up in classes, and I didn't have time for as much extracurricular as I'd like. I was shy back then, and feeling so out of it didn't help matters. But they couldn't knock me down, and my French improved drastically within the end of my Sophomore year," Sebastian smirks.

"How?"

Sebastian takes a large gulp of his bottle, swallowing as slowly as possibly.

"Tutor," he says shortly, and can see how Dave shrinks in on himself. "I had a tutor who was amazing enough to deal with my crassness and stubbornness," he says more softly, and Dave smiles, although timidly, at him.

"His name was Jacques." He knows he's never mentioned him to Dave, but still there must be something in the way he says his name. Dave scoots somewhat closer, and rests his hand between their thighs, palm open if Sebastian wants to accept it. But Sebastian isn't sure he knows how to, and he needs to get this out first.

"He was a Junior, and approached me one day I was feeling down. It was Thanksgiving, except that's not a holiday in France, so it felt weird to be in classes. At the American school in Paris we had that day off to be with our families. I knew we'd have turkey for dinner in the evening. But it wasn't the same, you know?"

He isn't really expecting an answer from Dave, but sees him nod anyway.

"Without introducing himself, Jacques told me we needed to do something with my mauvais français," he smiles ruefully. "His English wasn't exactly perfect either, so we could help each other."

Sebastian smiles fondly at the memory, the first time he really met Jacques. Of course he'd noticed him in the hallways – Jacques was too cute not to be noticed by anyone who'd come out to himself, at least. Sebastian was mostly out by then. He'd been out at Dalton, with its no bullying-policy, and he hadn't crawled back in when they moved back to France, but he hadn't exactly made a big announcement of his preferences yet either. He was a different Sebastian back then. He didn't pursue boys, God, he'd been such a cute little virgin who didn't even dare to flirt with the hot Junior.

But they started tutoring each other, and as often happens, a friendship developed. And as some clichéd romcom, Sebastian quickly and easily developed feelings for his slightly older tutor. He didn't know what to do with it, and they remained nothing but friendly until February 13th. They had been sitting in Sebastian's room, working on his essay.

"Shouldn't you be busy preparing a date for tomorrow?" Jacques asked when it was getting late. "You are in the country of l'amour, after all."

"No, no date for me."

"Don't you like our girls?" Jacques had teased. "Aren't there anyone you'd like to give a cute card?"

"There may be someone I'd like to give a card, but it's not any of the girls," Sebastian had boldly replied.

"Sébastien," Jacques had said quietly, using the French version of his name even if he was perfectly capable of pronouncing it correctly. It felt like a dear nickname, and it did something to Sebastian's tummy. "Me too."

He'd looked as if he was going to continue proof-reading Sebastian's essay, when he looked up and added shyly.

"But I'm not sure if he'd want a stupid French boy like me."

"It's fortunate for you that you are half Algerian, then."

The next day, Sebastian finds a card in his locker.

Sébastien, would you consider going out with my better half?

Sebastian had snorted at the adorable wrong use of the idiom, but when they met up after school for tutoring, Sebastian carefully took his hand. They abandoned their schoolbooks in favour of an impromptu date – they got tickets to an action movie, and split a pizza.

"Jacques came out the next day to the entire school, by holding my hand in the hallway. We were both each other's first boyfriend, and you wouldn't believe how modest and decent I could behave back then," Sebastian winks. "It took us a week before we kissed, and we never did that in school. We held hands, we hugged, we air-kissed like the sassy mini-gays we were, we would walk to classes with an arm around the other's waist, and… Yeah, you get the bland picture? But we were happy, and eventually we made up for our behavior in school by exploring in private. We were really the other's first, in every sense of the word."

Sebastian takes a break from the monologue to gulp down more to drink, because he's not going to cry over this again, he's shed too many tears.

Dave finally closes the last of their distance, and wraps an arm around him. Sebastian stiffens, not knowing how to deal with this. A warm hand is hesitantly and clumsily rubbing up and down his shoulder blade, and he tries to relax his muscles, accept the touch.

"We were so happy," he chuckles, trying to mask a sniff. "We planned these cute dates for each other, and even if it's cheesy, he took me to the Eiffel tower and kissed me. We hung out a lot at my place. Father was in the embassy a lot, and mother was tutoring in the evenings. To get a better feel on French home décor, she often paid home visits to her students. So I had the house to myself a lot, and freedom to be with Jacques without worrying about parents and other interruptions."

Now comes the difficult part, and Sebastian doesn't know how to continue, doesn't know if he's strong enough to revisit his ghost.

"You don't have to continue," Dave offers worriedly, and Sebastian must really look like shit if it makes the boy offer that. But he wants Dave to know the entire story, and he doesn't know if he can do this again anytime soon.

Against every usual instinct, he leans into Dave's embrace, and the startled boy tightens his hold around his shoulders.

"He wasn't out at home, and I didn't know. We were mostly in my house, so it didn't come up as a topic. Then summer came, and we had even more time at hand to spend together."

Sebastian sits up straighter again, and briefly looks at Dave, who's watching him with a serious expression.

"Mother didn't tutor as much over summer, and was home more often, so I begged Jacques to go to his place for some privacy, to fool around and stuff I didn't want mother's presence to sabotage. She didn't mind us dating, my parents knew, but they were cockblocks, you know?"

Sebastian's throat is thickening, and his vision is blurred.

"We thought we were alone, that his parents were gone for the day. We were watching a movie in the living room, without English subtitles to make sure my French didn't get lazy. I don't remember the details, but even if we were dressed and all, we sat in a way that screamed boyfriends. Maybe he had his feet in my lap, maybe I sat in his arm, maybe he was playing with my hair. I don't remember. I can't remember how we sat, how he touched me the last time I saw him," Sebastian chokes, and Dave is there in an instant, rocking him slowly as sobs wreck Sebastian.

Sebastian fists Dave's shirt angrily, as if it can make everything fair and good again. He hasn't allowed himself to think about this since it happened.

"I heard the car in the driveway. I heard the key in the lock. I heard it all, but I didn't know he wasn't out to his parents, I didn't know we couldn't act as we did in my home. If I'd known, I would have made sure we sat like friends. If only I had known…" Sebastian shakes.

"You can't know the things nobody tells you," Dave whispers, and holds him closer. "You couldn't know," he whispers again.

"I don't even know what happened. His dad came home, and looked at us with disgust. He said some things in French I hadn't learned, but I got the gist of it. And then he told me, calmly, in English that it was time for me to go home now."

Sebastian wipes angrily at his eyes with his sleeve, even though he knows it'll only irritate his skin.

"Hey…" Dave murmurs, rubbing his back and holding him even closer, making it difficult for Sebastian to use his hands for anything. Finally, he surrenders to Dave's embrace, and sinks into his arms.

"They found him the next morning…" he whispers into Dave's chest. "I didn't know until two days later, when I went to see him after endless unanswered calls and texts. I didn't know how bad it was. I didn't know what he risked by bringing me home. I don't know what they told him. But," he swallows heavily, "they told me I wasn't welcome at the funeral."

"Oh Bas…" Dave murmurs, and the sound of his voice makes Sebastian lose it all again, and he's shaking in the other boy's arms.

Sebastian isn't aware of time disappearing, and he's almost fallen asleep in Dave's arms, when he startles himself awake.

"'m sorry," he mumbles.

"No, I'm sorry," Dave insists, and scoots out of the bed. He quickly returns with a moist washcloth and a roll of toilet paper.

"I don't have any lavender scented tissues or that shit, sorry," he says apologetically.

"Even I'm not that gay," Sebastian snorts, and it feels good to almost laugh again.

"I've run out of anything to drink, but I could jog down to the grocery on the corner and get some, if you want?" Dave offers.

"I'll join you," Sebastian is surprised to hear himself offer. "I could need the air. And some junk food."

Dave seems to be evaluating him carefully, until he nods, and grabs his jacket.

"Cool," he says, simply.

They are quiet on their expedition for soda and junk, but it's a comfortable silence. Dave seems as if he's processing the story, and Sebastian is doing his own processing after revealing his scars and approaching his ghost. He doesn't notice at first, lost in his own head, how Dave holds all the doors for him. But he is present in mind when Dave pays for all of their purchases.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm trying this thing called gentlemanly behavior."

"You don't have to pay for my junk," Sebastian objects. "Oh, you know what I mean," he adds, when Dave's amused expression makes him aware of his faux pas.

"I know," Dave smiles, "that's what makes it gentlemanly behavior."

Sebastian grumbles self-consciously as they leave the tiny store, and when his stomach joins the displeased choir, he opens the bag of cheez doodles, munching on it as they walk back to Dave's dorm. He offers the other boy.

"I guess a few won't hurt," Dave shrugs, "even if I'm an athlete now," he grins. Sebastian waves his arms up and down playfully, pretending to worship the boy.

They climb the stairs to Dave's room, and Sebastian is relieved they can have this easy silence together, especially after all the heavy talking.

After getting comfortable in Dave's bed again, with assorted junk food, snacks and sodas within close range, Dave offers Sebastian the remote control for channel surfing.

"Can it… Is it okay if we leave it off?"

"Of course," Dave immediately answers. "Anything you want."

"Well, what I want is to watch some mindless action or a stupid comedy. But there are still things I need to tell you…"

"Whenever, I'll be here."

Sebastian leans further back, with the bag of cheez doodles in one hand, and wondering if maybe he should have had a sausage tong in the other. Dave's sheets will smell like old cheese.

"I know people see me as a heartless player, a slut and a teenage playboy. I know, because I've earned it. It takes hard work to create the right rumours and reputation about yourself. Half of it is just talk, I swear. Seriously, where could I find all the gay or not so gay boys and men willing to sleep with a teenager in this shithole?"

Dave smiles knowingly, and Sebastian wonders what the boy has been thinking about him.

"Sure, I like clubbing, I like to dance and flirt, I like the attention, and it's a hell of a distraction and way to spend time in this godforsaken dust corner. But I leave alone half the time now. I guess for the few hours I'm at the bar I don't feel… So lonely," Sebastian admits. "It started back in Paris. I missed Jacques, I didn't get to grieve like I wanted to, and I was pissed. So I went to gay bars to blow steam within a safe environment. After what happened to Jacques… The French free love-bullshit is exactly that, and I didn't trust easily after he... The gay bars became my world, and I slept around trying to repair the pain and fill the void Jacques left. Eventually, I just wanted the sex, and if it upset my parents - even better."

Sebastian chugs down the rest of his bottle, giving Dave a moment to judge him. But he can't see anything he recognizes on his face.

"And now you're here," Dave smiles sadly.

"And now I'm here," Sebastian parrots, "trying to lead a more sensible life. I'm no monk, but…" he wiggles his eyebrows.

"I'm so sorry about your loss," Dave says soberly.

"Yeah, well… Thank you," Sebastian says awkwardly. "So now you know about my past, and why I decided to avoid relationships."

"Are you still afraid of being hurt?" Dave asks carefully, his hesitation and wariness is obvious, as if he's worried of overstepping.

"I'm more afraid of hurting you," Sebastian admits.

"You know what happened to Jacques isn't your fault?"

"Feels like it," Sebastian mutters petulantly.

"Well, it isn't."

"But if I had known…"

"Which you didn't," Dave interrupts, "so you couldn't have done anything differently. And you're not going to hurt me, by the way."

"But you're not out either."

"No, and you know that. I'm working my way out, though. But it's not as if I'm gonna start spewing on my Facebook how much I love giving head, so that my little sister can ask my parents what that means."

"You think you'll love giving head?" Sebastian smirks.

"Of course that's what you choose to focus on from that sentence, idiot," Dave murmurs fondly. "But I intend to find out if I do, at least."

"Such an investigative mind."

"Yeah yeah," Dave waves him off. "I do understand if you don't want the extra hassle from dating someone who isn't out. But I'm not afraid."

"You've really been giving this some thought, haven't you?"

"Not much else to do while running laps," Dave shrugs.

"I want an 'us' to work. But I'm petrified," Sebastian admits.

"That's okay. I'll be right here when you're ready."

"I don't want you to think I'm rejecting you."

"I don't."

"Good. Awesome. Thank you," Sebastian says around a yawn.

"It's getting late," Dave points out redundantly.

"Yeah, I should head for Dalton."

"And drive at this hour? You could stay the night, if you want to."

"Karofsky, are you trying to get me to bed?"

Dave looks pointedly at him, sitting in his bed.

"Fine, that was lame, I'm not on top of my game, okay? You'll have to borrow me a toothbrush, though, 'cause I'm too lazy to get my bag from the car."

"No problem. I think Mom bought triple of every toiletry item when I moved here, to make sure I was set for a while."

"Cute," Sebastian smiles sincerely.

Dave jumps out of bed to find an extra head for his electric toothbrush, and a t-shirt Sebastian can sleep in. Their preparations for bed are brief and rushed, because it really is late.

"Thank you for telling me," Dave whispers in the darkness after they've settled down under the covers and fluffed up the pillows.

"Thank you for listening," Sebastian whispers back. He's almost leaning in to kiss Dave goodnight, but stops himself before it gets awkward. He has to reign in on his urges until he knows if he can pursue a relationship with him.