A/N: I've re-written this about three times… still not sure how I feel about it. Seb is off his antidepressants, which might also have a mild antipsychotic effect. There are a few triggers here, so please be mindful. If this brings up stuff for you, I'm always here if you need to talk… please message me.
His body shudders for a second. It's the feeling he imagines light bulbs feel when they flicker: like time is frozen, just for a second, or like they're frozen and the universe keeps spinning without them. And, even though he's flirting with oblivion, the idea of being a frozen observer, conscious of the movement of things but unable to interact with them scares him.
He twists the lock behind him with a satisfying click, and sinks down to the floor. His breath catches in his throat, and he feels the tears prick at his eyes again. Oh God, oh God, oh God. What has he done?
It started as a joke, a way to amuse himself during the long, dark hours when he couldn't sleep. His mind wouldn't shut up.
Shut up. Shut up. SHUT UP. Why do Nick and Jeff have to be so loud? How can they be laughing? The world is coming down around them all.
Projects keep him quiet. Computers, like most things except languages and liking himself, come easily. It was a few hours distraction. A joke to amuse himself. Until he took it too far. Too far. TOO FAR.
The heady scent of coffee. That manila envelope with the pink star. The twin looks of horror on Barbra and Hummel's faces. It almost made him want to snatch the envelope out of their hands, and run back to his car.
He held his ground, though. He played the game. He was committed, he had to do it. He will have to follow through.
Follow through. He has no follow through. His father yells at him all the time. He does not stick to his guns, stick to his goals.
His father will be angry if he finds out about this. His father will be angry when he finds out about the salty slushie. His father is angry. His father is disappointed. His father knows he's a screw up.
Screw up. Screw up. Screw up.
His body pauses again as he rocks. God, he wants to turn back time. He want to take everything back. He wants to disappear.
He could… kill himself. It would be easy. Life is fragile, his more than most. A razor blade could slip down the veins of his wrist. One of his father's hand guns could end up in his mouth. A reservoir delivered all at once by accident, so much on board that no one can stop the plummet.
It's tempting, but he can't. If he dies, he can't win regionals. And, he wants to win.
Because, if he wins, it will mean that he's not failing. It will mean that what he's done was justified. If he wins, his father will love him. If he wins, he knows he is still in control.