He tries to regain control by avoiding Nick as much as he can.
It goes well on Sunday Nick goes to church in the mornings. He, Jon the beat boxer, and a few of the other boarders, leave for the service around 9 am and don't return until 2.
His family is only religious if its election year … or he needs to get into a new school. He thanks his lucky stars that his father didn't ship him off to Our Lady of Perpetual Sorrow.
The reprieve doesn't last long. Nick finds him trying to take the derivative of polynomials in the library, and drags him out bodily. Somewhere between drunk, hungover, and bamboozled by the chain rule, he is in no state to protest as his roommate drags him bodily back to his room.
"Talk, Sebastian." Nick is terse.
He parrots an old slogan snidely. "Crack is whack."
Nick gives him a dark look. "You drink. A lot."
"I though we'd already talked about this. Jesus drank. Thomas Jefferson drank. Elvis drank. I don't see why I shouldn't carry on their fine tradition."
Nick is not pleased with this answer. They've already had a few fruitless discussions about alcohol before. Nick doesn't drink. He tries again. "But, last night… you were taking insulin. So…. You're diabetic?"
"You realize that diabetes eats your pancreas, not your liver?" His comment is laced with snark.
Nick tries again. "But, alcohol…"
"I don't see your fucking MD anywhere." His voice is laced with venom. "I don't see your fucking insulin around here. You're not my fucking doctor. You're not my fucking mother. Until you know what the fuck you're talking about, don't tell me what to do."
His voice rises, and he knows he's speaking louder than he wants, but he almost doesn't care.
He picks up his jacket, a water bottle in the pocket. He shuts the door firmly behind him. He walks calmly down the hall, calmly down the stairs, calmly out to the lacrosse field.
He looks around carefully. It is November, and most sensible people are inside. The hard core runners are sequestered on the paths, or running the track.
He is alone.
He punches the bleachers with his right hand.
He punches the metal over and over again.
He will regain control.
A/N: So, the issue of diabetes and alcohol has been raised. While I do not condone any actions taken by this incarnation of Sebastian, this is a fic about self destructive behavior. And, in my opinion, underage drinking falls into the category. Lots of diabetic teens and adults drink regularly; this is an extension of real life.
Thanks to everyone who commented on the last chapter! C65