to be completely fair, i wrote like 4 chapters and hated all of them. i tried to reread them and still hated them. so i wrote this chapter it took me forever and... well, it's super dark and the abuse in this chapter is pretty psychological for Sebastian. i mentioned Sebastian is afraid of spiders and it just... got out of hand i think because this idea kept on cropping up in my head. i've probably written it in a previous chapter and then deleted it... i so do not even expect what will happen in this fanfiction. i really wanted to make it so i didn't have to upload this, but there is another subplot i want to come from this. so. yeah. proceed with caution.

Eat Your Words

Chapter Twenty-Five

"Sebastian Smythe," the doll-sized nurse from the desk. She had a face that only a raging, horny donkey could love. He liked her heels. He owned a used condom with that colour. "Dr Karofsky is ready to see you now. Room four."

Yeah. Psychiatrist Paul Karofsky. Encouraging, right? It wasn't like his kid tried to croak himself in their house.

Sebastian's entire life was in an old manila folder. From the time that he tried to put on normal-sized boxers at three-hundred-pounds and ended up getting self-wedgie that was so bad that needing them to be cut by a nurse in school to that one time that fourteen-year-old Sebastian jerked off so much that his dick was in pain for eight hours.

When they fixed it, he orgasmed for two minutes. Seriously. He was happier than Dixon eating a shit-eating pig.

"Hey," Sebastian walked into the room with shaky hands. Did this guy only dress like a stockbroker in the fifties? And what was Sebastian so nervous about? He wasn't nervous when he lost his fucking virginity. "Remember me? The guy that dropped his wet laundry in your house, after tracking mud all over the place? Yeah. I'm that guy."

Maybe Karofsky should deep-fry and eat him if he was going to track mud all over a house.

When Paul didn't say anything, Sebastian just sat down. The seat was still warm from the last ass that sat on it. Yuck.

"What's the problem exactly?" Good start. Paul didn't tell him to get out because he had actual people to treat.

Sebastian put his files down on the table and kept his shiny, sea-green eyes on the ground. Yeah, cause shrinks definitely didn't notice when you refused to make eye contact with them because you're afraid they might tell you that they want their gay son to do things to you that might be a crime in a few states.

Sebastian swallowed the lump in his throat. "I don't feel so good," he whispered.

"What do you mean?" Paul didn't look like he wanted to strangle him with his Spider-Man drawers. That was good.

Sebastian rubbed his arm self-consciously and made sure he didn't look at Paul long enough for the guy to figure out his undying love and devotion towards his son. "You know."

"I know?" Paul reiterated. Was it cool if a shrink looked at you like you were talking to him in Klingon?

Sebastian swallowed the second lump in his throat. He made less sound sucking dick. "Yeah."

Then Paul asked that question that he wished people would stop asking him. "Where exactly are your parents today?"

Did he seriously ask him that? Did dads from the gay community meet up and decide they wanted to speak to his parents?

"I… uh…" Sebastian was sure that that was why his SAT scores were so shit. His essay writing needed work!

"Sebastian," wow, Paul knew his name. The computer probably told him, like it told him that guys have been sending death threats to his son. Ha. That helped him a LOT, right? "Where are your parents?"

After that, Sebastian didn't care if he was throwing a temper tantrum in the psych's office.

"My… my PARENTS?" Sebastian reiterated. "You want to fucking talk to those fucking wastes of space?"

He knew that he sounded like the most conceited asshole of all time. Sebastian didn't give a shit. They said worse stuff to him! "Look, buddy, if you're going to start asking me about where my fucking parents are, I ain't going to be pleasant. I ain't here to blow your dick. I can talk about my fucking feelings without my parents watching over me."

Paul was so startled that he dropped his mouse. Ha. Sebastian owned a real one in his house. Speedy Gonzales.

"Do… do you talk like this to your parents?" Paul looked shocked. The gay dads' community. Ha.

"Like what?" Sebastian cocked his eyebrows. "In sentences? Well, sometimes I sing because I'm in a subpar musical."

If Sebastian had a dollar for every time he'd heard some old guy asking him if he acted like this around his own parents, he'd have exactly two fucking dollars. He used to be a nice guy to most guys' parents before he ended up being fucked over the ass by the nicest gay guys in Ohio. Sebastian sure liked it rough and apparently, he was a giant asshole. But no amount of lubrication could prep him for that much gorilla dick. So, why should he be nice to their dads anyway? As far as Sebastian was concerned, they could suck his cock for producing such shitty offsprings.

"Do you actually have a problem or are you here to waste my time?" old man Karofsky said.

"Of course, I do, old man. I booked an appointment to see you, right?" Sebastian snorted and then offered him a half-smirk. Old man Karofsky didn't deserve a full smirk! "Your son hit on ME in a gay bar and now, he won't answer my texts. I even offered to blow him for free if he wanted. So, it makes me real sad. Now, I have erectile dysfunction."

Dave was totally going to answer his calls tonight though. Sebastian was pretty sure.

"This appointment is not about my son," ha. Paul Karofsky so didn't know Dave went to a gay bar. Fun.

"It ain't about me either apparently," Sebastian snorted. "It's about my parents and how I talk to them!"

After the guy was fuming and Sebastian being—you know, himself, they never really got to the file of eternal damnation. Sebastian ended up being kicked out like three minutes into his appointment. Pretty rude stuff.

When he got home through the bus, it just dawned on Sebastian that even adults hated him now.

He bet But Hummel sent his car to the fucking junk yard, and Paul Karofsky was making sure that the next time he had his monthly orthopaedic surgery (last time it was re-aligning his fucking collarbones), he wouldn't receive any painkillers because he was obviously abusing something if he talked like that to his parents.

At least he had new clothes, since he left all that laundry in Karofsky's house. And yeah, he had his own mouse now.

Sebastian found a little money waddled up in the couch after one of his dads' breakdowns and he bought himself some cheap white pants with holes in them and a giant dark blue sweater that smelled like nachos. As long as it covered the fact that he got torched on his arms and was now upgraded from hot to extra hot white boy whip, he was golden.

Yeah. His father roasted his arms over an open flame until he wished for death. There was an S in S'mores, right?

Since it was summer, Sebastian couldn't ignore his pain by doing homework, Warbler practice or trying to run a lacrosse team. And oh, he couldn't drive anywhere. And he didn't have any friends. High school was tough, kids!

He couldn't fucking wait for summer to be over. Sebastian was going to go back to Dalton and if it killed him, he was going to get a dorm. His plan was to throw the most pitiful, Rachel Berry inspired temper tantrums until someone felt bad for him, alright? He captained a whole fucking lacrosse team, and nobody believed him when Sebastian said that they were being homophobic because they didn't want to share with a guy whose hobbies included sucking and taking cock. The homophobia card only worked if you were made of daisies, like Kurt Hummel. Apparently, according to the Warblers and… all of Dalton Academy, he was a 'unjustifiably bad person'. Excuse him, but did any of these assholes in shiny blazers have psychopathic fathers that literally set their arms on fire?

As he debated what how many fucking dance numbers he was going to torture the Warblers with, the door slammed shut. Sebastian's heart did some backflips when he saw how pissed his father was.

Sebastian made a sound that sounded between a cross between a dying cat and Hummel masturbating. "Dad?"

"What the FUCK is YOUR DEAL?" Jean Smythe looked uncharacteristically gorgeous today. Ha. Later, Sebastian would spend the night trying to make sure his father didn't hang himself with ropes of his maggot spaghetti. "I get a call from a PSYCHATRIST, Sebastian! Telling me you were harassing his fucking son!"

He grabbed Sebastian by his new sweater and then pulled him off the couch like he weighed nothing. He slammed him into the ground. Sebastian was fucking floored. Ha. And was sure his spleen was now forever going out with his pancreas. With Sebastian's side aching, he felt his father's shiny designer shoes kick him in his non-designer back.

"Now, the cocksuckers are going to come over for dinner," Jean said. "Because of you, you fucking waste of oxygen!"

Ha. His father called him a waste of oxygen. He called his father a waste of space. Yet Paul was on Jean's side!

Jean grabbed Sebastian by his hair, and then dragged him down to his closet. Sebastian's stomach rebelled 'cause he knew that closet was where he found a cockroach the size of a fucking hawk. "NO!" Sebastian screamed.

"What's wrong, Sebastian?" Jean seriously got off on this, Sebastian was sure. He watched him lean forward and grab a huge, hairy tarantula and Sebastian's stomach flipped. If he didn't live it, there was no way he'd believe that a house that was infested with enough bugs to make an exterminator throw up could be habitable. "Spider got your tongue?"

Sebastian shook his head, biting his lip so hard he could taste blood. "Get that fucking thing away from me!"

Yeah. He was afraid of spiders. He was afraid of spiders so much he drove to Karofsky's house to do the laundry.

"I thought you had problems, Sebastian! You went to a psychiatrist!" Jean's words made Sebastian shudder. "Don't you want to get over your crippling fear of spiders?" The last thing he wanted to do was face down Aragog for fun!

Sebastian inched backwards. This only made the shady lamp (seriously, shady) smash. "NO, FUCKING THANKS!"

He was crying more than Hummel at the end of The Notebook. He was so terrified.

"LET GO LET GO LET GO LET GO LET GO!" Sebastian shrieked. He was sobbing like a baby.

When his father got Sebastian pinned down, Jean shoved that disgusting, hairy ball of eight moving legs down his throat. Sebastian would repeat that again: DOWN HIS THROAT. Sure, Sebastian may have a lot of strange cock experiences in that mouth, but never had he had a hairy, fuzzy leg press against the roof of his mouth. Ever.

No no no no no NO Sebastian internally screamed. Leave me alone. I'm just a fucking kid. Leave me ALONE.

Then like every other time something traumatising happened to him, he remembered how being in the tire shop with Kurt and Burt felt like. He remembered how humiliating it was to track mud everywhere along Dave's house… or how paralysed he felt like hitting Blaine with that slushie. All these bad memories just came rushing in on his head. GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT. Sebastian could feel his insides bubbling over. He was afraid he'd accidentally inhale arachnoid. This wasn't what he wanted when he said he wanted to sleep with Spiderman!

Sebastian dared not close his mouth. Cause he was sure he'd end up swallowing whole live spider.

It probably lasted a minute, maybe more. But it was the longest minute of his life. He tried to hold his breath and he didn't care how blue he got but he did not want to eat a spider. At least, he totally had no appetite for anything. Right?

He was so paralysed that he could fear his heart pumping into his head. Why couldn't he just die already?

When his father did not make him eat the damn thing, Sebastian felt relief. When he tossed that giant thing to the wall. Now, he was crying even harder and it was a combination of relief and sheer horror.

He even turned to his father and said, "Thank you." Sebastian was pretty sure it was shock.

His father made this satisfied sound that Sebastian pretty much associated with pigs. Unfortunately, pigs were nicer.

Sebastian sat in silence for five minutes. He was still shaking then but then he managed to get up and get to the sink before he threw up everywhere. He was so shocked that he was speechless. His fucking sick father was pleased by how scared Sebastian of that spider. How fucking twisted did you have to be to enjoy your child's suffering? He was still shaking more than a naked chick kicked out of a raging party in the middle of December. It didn't even percolate through Sebastian's head until then that Dave and Paul were coming over for dinner in this swampy cesspool.

He numbly made his way down to the porch. Then for the first time in a while, he called his mom.

"Hello?" Sebastian almost forgot how his mom sounded like. "Hello? Sebastian? Is that you? What's wrong?"

"I…" Sebastian couldn't find the words. His hand was shaking again, and he felt tears springing to his eyes. Pathetic. Him sobbing over the phone like his mom was just going to fucking appear right before his very eyes.

"Sebastian?" she sounded worried about him. Sebastian forgot how it was like to have another person actually give a shit about what he felt like. If just for a second. He FORGOT. That was so unfair. "Sebastian? What's wrong?"

Sebastian just sobbed. HE HAD A SPIDER IN HIS MOUTH. Nobody would ever want to touch him ever again. Gross.