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CHAPTER FIVE
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(day 9)
His nightmares all but disappear.
It's a mystery why he needed to meet Sebastian before he believed the tattoo was real, why he needed those precious few hours talking to him and the soft press of Sebastian's lips to a corner of his mouth to assert the idea that dreams do come true, it's okay to fantasize, to imagine impossibly big and crazy things.
For two days straight he wakes up with the ghostly impression of Sebastian's lips around the curve of his mouth, inconspicuous over the right-hand corner unless he closed his eyes and reimagined those final moments — Sebastian stealing a hidden kiss like Peter Pan stealing Mrs Darling's, a fantasy of what could be, things to come, a promise for the future encompassed in a single gesture. He secretly longs for another kiss, a real kiss, not a thimble or an acorn, but a real kiss, one he can return, one that seals the bond coded into their DNA.
At night, he dreams elaborate romantic comedy scenarios where he and Sebastian are the stars; he and Sebastian as Peter and Lizzie in Wimbledon, a British wildcard player falling for a young American tennis star, only in his dreams Sebastian speaks perfect French, seduces him with lines like je t'aime, mon coeur and a wicked sense of humor. It almost falls apart, he loses his shot at the championship and Sebastian goes on to play the finals, but their love prevails in the end, and when Sebastian's name appears on his wrist on his eighteenth birthday, Sebastian reveals his name to have been on his own all this time — he'd waited, patiently, for him to see the truth too.
He'll wake up smiling and content, a secret kiss waiting to be stolen all over again fresh on his lips and butterflies making him ten pounds lighter — he might float away if he ever kicked off from the ground too hard.
Grabbing his phone he reads Sebastian's text again, sent about half an hour after they said their goodbyes on Thursday. It simply read, 'Thanks for a great day, killer,' followed by a winky face, but it'd started an elation at the pit of his stomach he'd scarcely felt before. Sebastian had a good time with him, they'd spoken openly about family and friends, about Sebastian's stint on Broadway, and even though a part of Sebastian was as guarded as parts of him, there'd still been room for flirtation and wide-eyed staring. Breaking into Sebastian's heart would be a matter of time and patience, like he'd been shown by friends these past few years, and once they got to know each other he'd nestle inside Sebastian's heart like a thief in the night, granting his soulmate every secret kiss for all the days to come.
When he came home Thursday night he wanted to be alone with his thoughts, rehash the past few hours so he could make sense of things, let it simmer into his skin and his bones until he could form it into a coherent story; several people would want to hear what happened. Charlie and Cooper sat curled up together on the couch, Cooper holding up a print-out of the ultrasound, and in his eyes he saw it, that bond between his brother and Charlie he fell in love with when he was merely nine years old — Cooper whispered something to Charlie and she giggled, kissing Cooper's cheek, completely unaware that he'd entered the house.
He'd quickly snuck into the guest room and closed the door behind him, sinking down to the floor as his body tingled with that same bond. It was finally his, he'd met his soulmate, and even though there might be a few more bumps along the way he'd laughed out loud. Alone in his room he'd sat laughing with his knees hugged to his chest, utter joy and pure love coursing through him. He needed to get the hang of Hollywood, adjust to the ebb and flow of a city thus far foreign to him, but he could do anything if it meant getting close to Sebastian; he needed to find a way past Sebastian's walls, push a little here and there to make him see the wait was over, he was there now, and the universe wanted this as much as they did.
They could be like Susan and David in Bringing Up Baby, two people reluctantly forced together through an hilarious series of events, and too proud to admit they have each other's names tattooed on their wrists. There'd be misunderstandings and coincidences too ridiculous to be real, they'd bicker and fight and drive each other crazy, but in the end, as it usually goes in Hollywood movies, they'd realize they're each other's perfect match, and live, happy ever after.
He'd spent most of Friday on his own, Cooper out to work and Charlie off on assignment, but between hours of Skyping with Sam and Tina and writing down everything he could remember of his time with Sebastian, the day passed quickly.
On Saturday he'd gone shopping for baby clothes with Charlie, even though she and Cooper had decided not to learn the sex of the baby, but they'd found cute Winnie the Pooh footies too adorable to leave at the store. They'd talked the way they always talked, he the little brother, Charlie the big sister Cooper brought into his life — or maybe that was the universe's doing too, fitting parts of people's lives together like colors on a Rubik's Cube.
She explained again she and Cooper made the decision to start a family together, they'd talked about it for a long time before taking the leap, but Cooper had his insecurities about being a dad, like Charlie had her fears about being a mom. She assured him it was all part of becoming a parent, you can never be completely ready, but when the time came they'd both fall in love with their baby, everything would fall into place, etc etc…
Charlie laughed and said that a lot in life inspired fear, but there were just as many things to fall in love with along the way. It was all a matter of opening yourself up to opportunities when they presented themselves.
He decided there and then he wouldn't let a single opportunity slip through his fingers again.
Now, Sunday morning, he skips into the living room with a trip in his step and his heart stuttering an exciting kind of panic, much like the one he imagines informed Charlie's mood of late. He has breakfast and checks his email, ready to pass the rest of the morning on the beach reading, leaving Cooper and Charlie to wake up to an empty house; they didn't mind having him around, but he still wanted them to feel like they still had privacy. Still, he leaves them a note so they know where he went.
He throws on his new pink shorts and one of his favorite short-sleeved shirts and heads out to the beach, where he sits down on a towel, his own sunglasses perched on his nose this time, and starts a new book, one about a man whose wife goes missing — Charlie had a thing for crime novels, thrillers, and horror stories, so she picked out the good ones. His Kindle was loaded with young adult novels about young love and Star Wars fan fiction, but given the nature of his dreams lately he needed a different genre.
Just last night he dreamed he and Sebastian were Sara and Jonathan in Serendipity, two strangers who meet in a department store by complete happenstance, inexplicably drawn to each other like two poles of a magnet — set in a world where soulmarks don't exist, they have a magical night in New York City a few days before Christmas; Sebastian took him ice skating and flirted relentlessly, twirled him around on the ice and drew constellations on his arm with magic marker, even though Sebastian's the one with the freckles. Years passed and the absence of Sebastian carved out a hollow place in his heart, even though he tried starting a new life with a new guy, faceless and gray — then drew him back to New York, destiny lured him down familiar streets and fortunate coincidences brought him back to the boy he was meant to be with, Sebastian, tattooed over his heart, his future, his life's purpose.
It was unbelievably cheesy, but it was one of his and Tina's favorite movies, saturated with the idea that despite the lack of soulmarks, some people were still meant to be together.
Fifteen pages into his book his phone rings, the name 'SEBASTIAN' immediately attracting his attention, and soon that all too familiar cadence of a voice fills his entire sense of perception.
"Hey, killer," Sebastian says. "What are you up to right now?"
"Just reading." He picks at a dog-eared page. "Why?"
"I thought we could do lunch again. At my place. Just you and me."
Pleasant warmth clogs up his veins like maple syrup, settling directly below the surface of his skin where a gentle breeze catches on the goosebumps it raises.
"And the dog," Sebastian adds.
He hiccups a laugh. "I'd love to."
"Great. I'll send a car."
"No, I can– drive. I'll borrow my brother's car."
"Perfect. See you soon."
He remains seated for another thirty seconds, staring out over the ocean as if the beach foam might reveal the universe to him, but springs into action when his phone buzzes with a text from Sebastian; his address, in case he needed it, followed by another winky face. Grinning from ear to ear, he gathers his things and makes a mental note to check his hair and clothes before he leaves the house.
"Where are you off to, squirt?" Cooper asks when he storms back in.
Cooper and Charlie are still in the kitchen, enjoying a late breakfast.
"Sebastian." He darts in and out of his room to deposit his book and towel. "He invited me for lunch. Can I borrow your car?"
Cooper tosses him the keys and points at him with clear warning. "Have it back before midnight."
Charlie gently elbows Cooper in the ribs. "Have fun."
It's been two days, two whole days since he saw Sebastian, and he's been waiting for the opportunity to see him again. The half hour drive does little to steady his nerves — all he wants is to get to know Sebastian, learn more than the sequence of events in which his life unraveled over the years, but the motivations behind it. Why had he chosen Hollywood over Broadway? What were some of the things that kept him going? What past relationship had hurt him to make him so guarded?
Maybe Sebastian went through a similar experience he had, maybe he got bullied, or maybe he had his heart broken. He wanted to get to the bottom of this, get whatever stood in their way out in the open and talk about it, instead of letting it simmer into awkward exchanges.
He pulls up to the marvelously sheltered house on Greenvalley Road, Dottie waving at him excitedly from the gate. Apparently 'just you and me' also included Sebastian's personal assistant, but he won't be deterred. He will talk to Sebastian.
"He's out by the pool," Dottie squeaks as they cross paths, her body jittery with what he can only guess is nerves — last night Dottie seemed calm and subdued, now she decidedly drank too much caffeine.
She wrings her hands together. "I'm so sorry if I ruined your night the other day, I really didn't mean to. Sebastian keeps telling me I shouldn't let Hunter push me around, but–"
"Don't worry," he hushes the girl's ranting, her buggy eyes wide behind the large prescription glasses.
He takes a look at Dottie's wrist, her soulmate's name tattooed in delicate Asian characters.
"I haven't met him yet," Dottie says unprompted. "Our parents are still working out the details."
"That doesn't bother you?"
"Not at all." Dottie smiles. "It's the way my world works."
His stomach twists at the thought of it, of his parents in control of the how and when — the system doesn't allow for much control to begin with, they have to wait eighteen years for a stranger's name to set deep below their skin, satisfy their youthful desire with stories and dreams and fantasies until that moment comes and even then it can be a long journey before anyone ever meets their soulmate. Did he get lucky, thrust into an unknown world without any sort of grace period to ease the transition? He hasn't had much control over the how and when of this either, the media crowded in before he could make a his own decisions, and Hunter took over before he managed to catch a breath.
Making his way down to the pool area he steps into an oasis surrounded by plant life, completely sheltered from the outside world, from any concrete and high-speed roads, from the cars and the crowds, from all the media and everything else that might invade Sebastian's every day life.
Sebastian has just started another lap when he reaches the bottom step, dipped under water and swimming towards him, and once he resurfaces he flicks his hair to one side, long fingers dragging through the wet brown strands.
"Hey there, killer." Sebastian smiles, hoisting himself out of the pool.
For a second or two, maybe more, maybe eons, he becomes Hannah watching Jacob in Crazy, Stupid, Love right after she commands him to take off his shirt, about to shout 'Oh my God, you look like you're photoshopped!' and jump into his arms like Baby in Dirty Dancing, his eyes trained on the whimsical lines of water philandering down Sebastian's chest in one of those perfect movie-made moments, slow motion capture, every single drop outlined by the camera.
"I'm glad you came."
His lips part as Sebastian drips wet stains down on the tiles, his lungs slowly emptying. He's seen Sebastian half-naked before, on screen, in magazines, that one photoshoot Sebastian did on the beach, but being privy to it in real life proves to be an entirely different experience. The magazines embellished Sebastian's physique, his abs got touched up and they'd cut into his waistline, but the guy in front of him would've made an equally spectacular photo spread — abs flat and fit and such impressive arms, all covered in so many beauty spots. What were people even thinking airbrushing those out?
"Thanks for inviting me."
He clears his throat, but can't bring himself to look away, fresh fantasies taking root; running his fingers down Sebastian's body, playing connect the dots with all the freckles sprinkled down his chest, lying encased in two strong arms while the two of them exchange kisses and laugh at each other's silly jokes. His eyes draw down to Sebastian's wrist, his tattoo covered by his watch — how he longs to see Blaine Anderson printed on Sebastian's skin, trace over every letter until he divines the meaning of his own name.
Sebastian rubs dry with a towel. "I know we haven't had much time to get to know each other."
"You're busy. I understand."
Sebastian smiles bright. "Let me put on some clothes and I'll make us something to eat."
He follows Sebastian back up to the house, whisking away what secrets he can from Sebastian's flawless skin, his back equally splotched with freckles, and he barely contains a smile — he looks at Sebastian as a man, even though plenty of people agree he has a young fresh face that hasn't aged. Sam often calls him baby face, and somewhere in between the hush-hush of Sebastian's freckles he finds the same conclusion. Sebastian's public image warped his idea of him; he doesn't know the boy behind the star, the man inside the boy, the boy who'd made his way to Hollywood and forced to function in a brand-new industry.
A Jack Russell terrier emerges barking from the house, and starts jumping up against his legs.
Sebastian pulls the small dog back by the collar. "You guys didn't get a chance to meet the other day."
Hearing Sebastian talk about their first meeting finally reassures him Sebastian hadn't brought him here to sleep with him — Sebastian had felt the same way he had, he hadn't wanted their night to end yet, he wanted him to meet his dog and talk about his mother's paintings.
He sinks down to the floor and scratches the dog behind his ears. "What's his name?"
"Her name's Thandie," Sebastian says. "My mom didn't want me to be lonely."
"You guys sound pretty close."
He stands up and makes his way inside the house, Thandie close behind, sniffing his ankles.
"My mom and me?" Sebastian asks. "Yeah, we are. We have a lot in common."
While Sebastian gets dressed he studies the rest of the living room.
One wall of the living room consists solely out of glass, floor-to-ceiling windows interrupted to make room for a fireplace. Two large sofas stood arranged around a small coffee table in front of the fireplace, another painting on the wall over the largest one, the same style as the phoenix he already took note of. He turns towards the phoenix again, the colors vibrant and alive, as if they could start moving any moment.
Below the painting a set of cabinets displayed several picture frames. One of the cast of Sebastian's first Broadway play, Sebastian with family and friends in others, but it's a smaller one with a golden frame hidden near the back that grabs his attention. He unearths it from behind the others, and meets a much younger Sebastian; he can't be more than fourteen, his arm thrown around Nick Duval's shoulders, a boy he'd been on stage with for years. He's never seen Sebastian smile the way he does in the picture, young and foolish and unguarded.
"Nick Duval."
Sebastian's voice startles him.
Dressed in shorts and a near see-through white shirt Sebastian takes hold of the photo and stares at it with melancholy eyes.
"My biggest regret."
"You two were–"
"Two young idiots who thought they were in love."
Sebastian hides the picture out of sight again, pretending to be unaffected by its presence.
Why keep it when it clearly brings up bad memories?
"Long time ago." He shrugs, and heads for the kitchen. "It's in the past."
A pang of pain sinks into his heart like a sharp needle thinking of a young Sebastian in love, maybe for the first time ever, only to have his heart broken when Nick's soulmark revealed another name so many years later. Because he's not blind, the picture means something, seeing it cracked Sebastian's steel composure, a near imperceptible chink in his armor. Did Nick break Sebastian's heart? Was this the relationship that closed Sebastian to other opportunities? Maybe Sebastian's still hurting, maybe he's a fool to think that it'll only take a few dates to punch through Sebastian's armor and find that young foolish love himself. There has to be a reason Sebastian keeps the picture around.
"I hope you like BLTs, killer," Sebastian calls from the kitchen, rifling through the fridge. "As far as culinary prowess goes I'm strictly low-key cuisine."
He pushes any thoughts of Nick and the past aside, and joins Sebastian in the kitchen, all the ingredients for the BLTs splayed out on the kitchen counter.
"That's okay. I'm pretty handy in the kitchen," he jokes, though the words no sooner leave his mouth or Sebastian retreats behind walls heartbreak had construed for him — he realizes then that he has plans for the future, born after years and years of dreaming of his soulmate; a lot of them included domesticity and preparing meals together, dividing household chores accordingly and aiding each other in building a life together. That's what he's here for, that's the whole point of this, two souls fated together by some unseen force finally meeting and coming together.
The sight of Sebastian pulling back reminds him he'd vowed to push through, to talk to Sebastian like a normal person would on a second date. So he marches to the stove and starts preparing the bacon, giving Sebastian a few more moments to catch his breath.
"You seemed surprised to see me the other day."
"Honestly?" Sebastian faces him. "I didn't think you'd be this good-looking."
He'd find the time to question Sebastian's quick recovery if not for the heat rising in his cheeks, thrown off by Sebastian's flirtation once again.
"Or this cute blushing."
Sebastian smiles and reaches out, drawing a thumb over one of his cheeks, another ghostly impression of a touch gone too soon, too quickly. If only he could cheat and hold it there, but being around Sebastian is like riding a rollercoaster for the first time; he never knows what's coming, what turn their conversation will take, or when the ride will be over.
"You never– googled me?" he asks tentatively, because in the years spanning his ninth and eighteenth birthday he'd researched himself so many times, divined how his soulmate would go about finding him, and tracked his online footprint accordingly. He'd found plenty of pictures, on the tennis club's website, on McKinley High's website, even a few pictures on his friends' Facebooks that he hadn't managed to privatize. So why hadn't Sebastian known what he looked like? Wouldn't Hunter or Santana have told him? Didn't he catch any of the articles or news segments that informed the world of Blaine Anderson's existence? What was Sebastian not telling him?
In the forever spanning his question and Sebastian's answer he sees the boy behind the man hesitating, weighing his words, prolonging the silence by chopping up the tomatoes.
"The internet takes away a lot of the romance," Sebastian answers, as close to the truth as he can manage. It's not a lie, it's even something they agree on, but there's another truth in between the lines he can't detect. Maybe the wound Nick left was too fresh, maybe Sebastian had counted on Nick being his soulmate and he got an entirely different boy instead.
"Technology often does."
"Says the man walking around with two phones."
"Touché." Sebastian releases a breathy laugh, cutting the lettuce next. "It's a competitive business. Everyone's chasing the same things, the same parts, the same awards. If you want to get the right parts you have to play the game. That's kind of how it works here."
It all sounded like a recipe for an unsatisfying life, a different rollercoaster — he liked the idea of Hollywood from afar, but what he's seen up until now wasn't the dream the world made it out to be. He's seen children walked on leashes and dogs in car seats, kids that can't be more than five talking on expensive iPhones or walking around with computers worth thousands of dollars. And all the while his brother struggles to make ends meet, often relying on Charlie's paychecks. This was a strange city, and he wonders if it ever changed people.
Maybe his relationship with Sebastian would be a constant uphill battle against an industry that thrived on its stars appearing single and available, and Sebastian's own reservations about what it means to love and be loved. Because he can't see why else Sebastian would be so resistant. He's starting to feel a lot like Tom in (500) Days of Summer trying to convince Summer they're soulmates — but that's one love story he'd rather not think about; he's nothing like Tom, foolishly convinced Summer and he were meant to be, only to watch her find happiness with another man. It won't be like that for him, he has the proof printed on his wrist already, and so does Sebastian.
"So, your brother lives in LA?"
The question fails to deter any of his unease.
"Yeah."
"What does he do?"
"He's an actor, actually."
He piles lettuce and tomatoes on two whole-wheat slices of bread.
"He does those free credit rating commercials."
"You're kidding. Dottie has the jingle as her ringtone. It drives me nuts."
He smiles. Sebastian isn't the first to say that. "Well, he loves it."
"He's a lot older than you."
"Nine years."
"Married?"
"Almost ten years. And he's going to be a dad in six months."
"You excited to be an uncle?"
He looks at Sebastian, standing right beside him as they finish garnishing the sandwiches, and revels at the turn this conversation's taking — he rarely meets people so genuinely interested in him. So what is this? What are they doing? Why does Sebastian ask all these things but can't seem to understand he wants the same things in return?
"I am," he answers. "And they're going to be great parents, my sister-in-law's amazing."
"I always wanted a sister when I was younger."
"Why?"
"Are you kidding? Someone to boss around all the time?"
He laughs. "You forget someone to belittle, criticize, and give embarrassing nicknames."
"Shit," Sebastian breathes. "That bad, huh? I might need to have a word with that brother of yours."
And then Sebastian touches his nose.
Brief and delicate, Sebastian touches his index finger to the tip of his nose, and taps once, before grabbing both their plates off the kitchen counter.
Trying to keep my heart on the tracks, the lyrics swim in front of his eyes. One moment Sebastian pushes him away with all the strength he can muster and makes him question whether he's in the right place, when the next he's sweet and honest and open, a regular boy among so many others, a boy he's steadily falling for.
He won't be able to reign in his heart for much longer.
"Did I take the romance out of this for you?" Sebastian asks, settling down outside on the terrace. "Being who I am. Meeting Santana and Hunter first."
"It all happened really fast."
He sees no point in lying about this. If he wants honesty from Sebastian he has to dote out his own. It hasn't been an easy transition, leaving his small town life behind for the big splendor of Hollywood.
"I feel like I'm finally catching my breath."
"Good." Sebastian smiles. "That's important. Finding a place to calm down."
"Is that why you live here on your own?"
"Pretty cool, isn't it? I used to share an apartment with some friends from New York, but I needed my own place."
They talk like they talked two days ago, Sebastian asks more about Brown and his plans for the future, about his friends back home, Sam and Tina, but avoids the topic of ex-boyfriends this time around. Sebastian talks about moving to Los Angeles and his struggles his first year, going out to audition after audition only to be met with disappointment every single time. He almost gave up on Hollywood and headed back to Broadway, until he caught the attention of a young casting director, who got him his first break. He'd seen the movie after his crush on Sebastian fully kicked in; it was a small talking part, but it got Sebastian noticed by the big studios, the start of a quick rise to fame.
In that short afternoon hour he becomes every character in every romantic movie ever, sat across the table from his love interest, slowly but surely converting to the idea that this could be the person he'll love for the rest of his life, this vibrant larger-than-life broken boy that he'll put back together again.
"Come on, we're going for a hike."
Sebastian jumps up from his seat and holds out his hand, pulling him up when he offers his own. He's not wearing the right shoes for a hike, but he's too swept up in Sebastian's energy to complain, so he follows him back through the house, down to the pool, where a short stone staircase leads up into the hills — the steps turn into wooden beams as they climb higher, Thandie winds between their legs every so often, and he tries to keep pace with Sebastian, who's clearly done this many times before.
They pass a hidden alcove with another terrace, pebbles covering the sand, white paper lanterns hanging from the trees that provide lighting should it grow too dark.
Sebastian marches on, clearly set on taking him to a specific spot.
Finally, after another three minutes, they end up at the end of the path, a clearing overlooking a deep valley of houses, parks and waterways — and Hollywood shines brighter than diamonds, a million glistening stars piercing through the dark filled with promises and dreams.
His eyes go wide, breath taken by the beautiful vista. "This is amazing."
"It's one of my favorite places in the world."
And through Sebastian's eyes he gets the appeal, of the city of success, of make-it or break-it, of places hidden out of sight to offer sanctuary from all the negativity that followed celebrities around, a welcome break from a hectic life.
Sebastian takes a deep breath and stares out over the valley, eyes on a distant and unfixed point. "How do you feel about soulmates?"
His heart skips a heedless beat hearing the word fall from Sebastian's lips for the first time.
"You mean us?"
"No, I mean– in general." Sebastian looks at him. "The whole concept of it."
"It's the way the world works," he says, a learned answer, but one so ingrained in his belief system he feels the word reverberate through him. The Ancient Greeks glorified soulmates in their writing, Ancient Egyptians built monuments and graves so that soulmates could spend eternity together, the Romantics raised the soulmark as the freest expression of the human soul, history rife with famous couples fated together.
It's how the world worked, it's all people knew.
Sebastian knows that.
"Why– do you ask?"
Sebastian faces away again and forces a silence, not to weigh his words, but to give voice to his own thoughts, his private musings. When Sebastian looks at him again a curiosity burns in his eyes he couldn't fathom if he had another hundred years to interpret it.
"You think the universe ever makes mistakes? Brings two people together that are completely wrong for each other?"
The silence is his this time. Is Sebastian talking about Nick?
Or them?
"I don't– understand."
Sebastian closes his eyes. "Yeah, I'm just– I'm rambling. I'm sorry."
People don't talk like this, not in his world; these are the ravings of a crazy person, of the nihilists who believe they shouldn't be led by a system science can't explain, that they shouldn't trust in something that still leads to so many mistakes. No one took those people seriously, there are too many men and women out there who found love, found a piece of themselves, their lives completed by the simple presence of another person.
What does that say about Sebastian? Are these merely the musings of a lonely boy who once got his heart broken, who saw the boy he loved receive someone else's name? Or does he hold true to these beliefs?
"How are you so sure about all this?"
"I've seen it," he says, tears stinging the corners of his eyes, not for himself, but for Sebastian, because how can he be so convinced that he doesn't deserve to be loved?
"I watched my brother fall in love. My best friend. My parents still love each other as much as the day they met."
He takes a tentative step towards Sebastian, closer than he's ever been, and reaches a hand out for his arm.
"What about your parents?"
"My parents."
Sebastian laughs, but nods, and somewhere in there he swears he hears a tear or two.
"My parents fell in love the moment they saw each other."
His fingers curl tighter around Sebastian's arm, his beliefs curled around his entire genetic make up, in every nook and cranny of his eighteen years of loving and remembering and dreaming. "That's how I'm sure."
For a moment or two he fears Sebastian might repeat how out of his league he is, which only sounds like Sebastian pointing out how hopelessly mismatched they are for each other. But Sebastian forces a few even breaths into his lungs and calms down, before raising his hands to his face.
"What are you doing?" he whispers, but drinks in the touch like he's been starved for it for centuries, Sebastian's hands soft and warm and close, his eyes a brilliant green.
"I'm going to kiss you, Mr Anderson."
Evy to Rick in The Mummy. His lips part, heat pooling in his stomach at the thought alone — a kiss, a real kiss. It's more than he could've hoped for.
"Isn't that how this soulmate thing works?"
A bitter taste in his mouth breaks the spell he's under.
"This– thing?" he asks.
Sebastian's hands fall away, and he whispers, "I'm sorry," before he trips a haphazard step back.
"Sebastian. What's wrong?"
When Sebastian look sat him he's nothing but a boy, alone, heartbroken, lost.
"What if I'm not the person you expect me to be?"
Does he come across as person? Has he pushed too hard, wished for too much, dreamed too big? He has expectations, it's hard not to after eighteen years of dreaming of a soulmate. What were the chances of that soulmate being his celebrity crush? Hadn't he been drawn to Sebastian for a reason? Hadn't this been fated all along? He'd been prepared to face some obstacles, but how hard does he push, how much time does he let pass before Sebastian's walls give way to the inevitable?
He wants this. He feels this stronger than anything.
And he'll fight for it.
He reaches out and takes one of Sebastian's hands in his, caressing his thumb over Sebastian's knuckles.
"I'll get to know you," he says, "We're soulmates," and prays to the high heavens that means something to Sebastian, that it's more than this soulmate thing but an idea that can grow.
"We'll figure it out."
Sebastian smiles sadly, his lips set in a tight line, hand giving his a light squeeze.
"I really hope you do, Blaine Anderson."
.
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