By day four of Sebastian's first week at McKinley, nothing much had changed.
He had started to hang around with a few people from his classes, though. But he didn't really pay much attention to anything they are saying. He isn't even sure he could name them all; they all have such similar faces. Having said that, they do have more identifiable characteristics than their Dalton counterparts, such as 'the girl with the dolly pink halter neck' or 'the guy who clearly got dressed in the dark', which Sebastian is at least a little bit thankful for.
English still remains the worst part of the day, with Kurt finding a new way to aggravate him about his situation each day, with his fluttering eyes and innocent smile. Of course, it's easy to wind him up right back, he just has to fantasize out loud, and in great detail, all the things he's imagined doing with Blaine, to Blaine. Or simply pick at his insecurities, which Kurt lays out so clearly it's almost shameful to miss out on the opportunity.
He talks and talks for the entire hour, making sure to add a tangible amount of desire into his tone when talking about Blaine, until the blush is high on Kurt's cheeks and he's so flustered he can't even think of a scathing response.
By last period, Kurt has nothing but pent up rage to expel to poor old Rachel, and he watches with the greatest satisfaction as Kurt becomes flurried and increasingly animated recounting all of the comments Sebastian had come up with. It pleases him greatly that he knows exactly what buttons to push to get this reaction out of Kurt.
Usually, he flees the building as quickly as humanly possible, avoiding all potential conversation obstacles. But the following Tuesday afternoon, after collecting his things from his locker - which unfortunately is only three spaces down from Kurt and Rachel's - he decided to investigate this school a little more.
Making his way across the hallway, he looked across the bulletin boards, sparse in notices due to the late month of the academic year. It was entirely ridiculous that his father had made him transfer just over two months before he would graduate. His father had that kind of persuasive power unfortunately.
No lacrosse team.
He shouldn't have been shocked at all; he doubted very much that students here even knew what lacrosse was. In terms of athletics, he knew from his semi-weekly sports lessons that there were four groups of student here; the air headed, unnecessary aggressive football players, the scarily thin, incredible flexible Cheerios, the rejects who still hadn't recovered from being cut from the team almost before they'd even signed up, and those to whom any kind of sport related activity was probably worse than death.
His eyes continued to gloss over the notice boards. His time in Paris had exposed him to a different attitude to life and high school careers. Being on the opposite side of the Atlantic, the most noticeable thing was the difference in culture. Everything was totally different.
He'd been to France before of course, many more times than others from Western Ohio who may not have even left the state, never mind the country, but no more than those in the elite social circles that he and his arguably too-wealthy family travelled in.
Last year was the first time he'd lived and been educated there, though. It was his mother's idea. She was born and raised in France, but she went to college in the states due to a family ingrained love for exploration and travelling, and her nature to become restless meant that she switched residency between the states and the fifth republic more times than Sebastian switched sexual partners, almost.
Usually it wouldn't be for extended periods, three to six months at the most. Her job as a freelance interior designer and occasional amateur architect meant that she could travel more liberally, providing that she wasn't currently on a job. She would pack up and leave, almost floating away, and they never knew when or if she'd return.
It confused Sebastian and it hurt his father, hurt him a lot more than he showed. Mainly because his job and his commitment to giving his children a stable and familiar upbringing tied him to the states, and he wanted more than anything to follow her everywhere. He had done since he was just twenty one years old when he bent down to pick up a bunch of leaflets which had been scattered throughout the east side of the Stanford campus by the harsh winds on one wintery day.
Strangely, the constant upheaval of their everyday life never broke the family and when they were together it was as if the she'd never been away. He wasn't sure if his father was deluded or really that desperate to hang on to his mother, or if they really did love each other enough to never let distance touch them.
All in all, he guessed his parent's relationship was pretty admirable, but he never understood them. They didn't appear to be the sort who stayed together for the sake of staying together. They still shared long glances over dinner, held hands whilst sat on the couch watching television; they even went on date nights every Tuesday and Friday. They were the whole still-madly-in-love-even-after-all-these-years couple.
It was around Sebastian's sixteenth birthday that she decided to try something new. She wanted Sebastian to experience the life and love of travelling and just see. See the world as she saw it before he went to college. His older brother, Matthew, had moved to San Francisco last fall, and Sebastian suspected it was the loss of one son and the impending departure of her only other one which spurred her into including Sebastian on her latest adventure.
Sebastian was initially reluctant to leave his father alone, but after long discussions, he decided to take the transfer and at last they relocated to France. They made their home in the city itself, owning a grand apartment with spectacular views that Sebastian wasn't totally sure he deserved to wake up to every morning.
His mother had explained that she wanted this to be the most excellent year of his life and that he needed to experience everything. And oh, he did. The Parisian nightlife was the most incredible thing he'd experienced in his life. It made even Ohio's most outrageous gay bars seem duller than a black and white photograph of an empty field on an average spring day. The city was so busy and vibrant and alive and he loved every single moment.
It didn't even get him down that his studies were harder (with half of them being taught in French – whilst he was fluent now, there was that little bit of a delay translating the history of the French revolution first thing on a Monday morning), and there seemed to be much less focus on sport; which was a pleasant change in the hierarchy.
Coming full circle in his current thought train, Sebastian remembered where he was. He'd been staring vacantly at the bulletin board for at least five minutes now. He shook his head and began skimming the posters for anything of adequate interest. This school was so boring.
The competitive football season was over now, which would have been his first choice after lacrosse, but his well-built frame made him quite an adaptable athlete all round, if he wanted to be. He was sure he could make it onto the baseball or basketball team easily enough, so he signed his name for both.
His attention was caught by a pale blue poster covered in small gold stars advertising the sign-up sheet for the New Directions. His eyes flitted to the page, which unsurprisingly had no names written besides insults that were more unimaginative than Sebastian's chat up lines and crude drawings. He laughed a little whilst reading the names, and then turned to walk towards the parking lot.
He paused briefly, and thought about signing up. He wasn't sure if it was because he was really that bored, or if he craved the opportunity to ruin something that was so special to so many he'd classed as his enemies, or if it was because he missed the Warblers after all.
Realising how lame he sounded, he shook his head somewhat violently and turned around to be hit square in the face with a cup full of icy liquid.
He felt the slush work its way rapidly through his shirt, drenching him through and through in red dye no6. He thought just saying out loud that he now attended public school because he got caught whoring around one too many times was bad, but he had never felt more humiliated in his life than right now.
He stood deathly still, arms hanging in mid-air with an expression of pure disbelief, making way for anger to flood his features but not without the high red tones of embarrassment riding high on his cheekbones, which unfortunately, the red slush only helped to emphasize.
The sting in his eyes was the worst part and shit if he didn't feel true, honest regret for what he did to Blaine now - and this slushie didn't even have rock salt in it.
"Welcome to McKinley, prancy boy!" He thought he heard someone shout in his ear as two jocks high-fived, laughed and then sauntered away, clearly this was a proud moment for them, he thought.
In retrospect he should have expected this sooner, a new kid was always the labelled the victim, and being from a private all-boys school, the temptation of the potential to humiliate and bully such a boy was too big to resist. Of course they didn't know that Sebastian wasn't easy pickings and he would definitely never stand for this and his intelligent, cutting words would bring them down in a heartbeat.
But he would have to wait to regain his dignity and his pride until tomorrow morning when he would actually be able to see through the thick red ice crystals that were currently irritating his eyes right now.
Slowly, so as to limit the movement and spread of the slushie down the back of his shirt, he raised his hands to his face, wiping the liquid from his eyes almost comically. He didn't know the quickest way to the bathroom yet or have a change of clothes, and seeing other people would inevitably happen, which was fantastic.
Thankfully, he had some luck, because those as of yet unidentified idiots decided to slushie him after school hours when most people had already scattered, keeping the humiliation to a minimum. He only saw one person on the way to the bathroom, and she looked at him with a resigned pity that explained well enough that she'd been where he was now, probably several times.
Pulling out more than half of the supply of paper towels from the corner of the deserted bathroom, he began to wipe the ice off of his face, wincing at the freezing temperature that was slightly numbing his face and now he thought about it, his chest too. And maybe even his pants.
Oh for fucks sake, he thought bitterly, anger now becoming his primary emotion. He looked down and sure enough the ugly red colouring had surpassed his jeans and soaked through his underwear. He was not looking forward to the half hour journey home. He dabbed underneath his shirt and around his jeans, and even attempted to use the hand dryer to dry his shirt a little, before throwing the used pile of tissue into the bin and pushing the bathroom door back open.
He strode as proudly and as quickly as he could out of the front doors and towards his car. It had only taken his father a week to let him drive himself to school after he realised that although it was hilarious to wind up Sebastian so early in the morning, it also inconvenienced his work schedule.
He threw his bag into the passenger seat of his 'too beautiful to be parked amongst these cheap hand-me-down excuses for cars' Infiniti FX model, which admittedly was a little oversized for his needs and probably pretty pretentious for a high school senior who should be trying a little harder to fit in if he wanted to avoid being slushied again. Sighing, he turned the ignition and drove home, not even bothering to switch on the radio.
He didn't notice that Kurt had seen the whole thing.
Ever since he started attending McKinley, there had been a quiet tension building each night at family dinners. Though neither parent had spoken directly to Sebastian about it, he had the feeling that they'd been arguing about it more and more each day.
His mother hadn't been entirely on board with Sebastian transferring at such an unreasonably late month just to teach him a lesson by giving him a public school diploma. But his father had insisted that it would work, and he would gain a lot more independence and maturity from the experience.
By the time he'd arrived home his clothes had mostly dried - though ey were irreversibly stained a deep shade of red and he was still in a foul mood. He skipped the 'hellos' and empty 'how was school, honey?' greetings and stormed straight upstairs to take a shower.
The family lived just outside Lima, in the wealthiest part of town, of course. Unfortunately for him, that also meant that he was just within the district of McKinley High. With Dalton being a boarding school, he'd got used to the distance and semi-independence of living away from his parents, so this past week had been somewhat stressful having to relearn how to be around them every evening.
The Smythe household was moderately sized given their wealth; Edward Smythe preferred to spend his money on expensive cars and suits, whilst Amelié, being an interior designer, used their money on lavish furnishings that completed the home.
Perhaps the most interesting thing about the residence was how it reflected on them as a family. It was not a cold household, which some considered surprising given Amelié's penchant for travelling, but the very opposite. Amelié Smythe contemplated each and every place she chose to live in with careful, delicate consideration, threading her very personality throughout the walls of the building. Their Ohio home was one she'd chosen to keep ever since that first viewing over fourteen years ago.
Each room was tastefully designed with warm but neutral colours, the furniture was plentiful but not overwhelming, and the walls featured expansive ranges of art. She had designed the home in a way which meant each room represented a different side of their family life; the kitchen was modern and functional but also inviting and well equipped, the study offered privacy and a motivating work space which grew Amelié's creative mind, and the living room brought the family together with its engaging and varied atmosphere.
It was completely their own.
Sebastian spent longer than usual in the shower, taking the time to let the hot water work its way into his overly stressed muscles. He'd do this every so often when he'd had a particularly awful day, but today it didn't quite work due to the lingering feelings of humiliation.
After around half an hour, he shut off the water and dressed himself in clean clothes; a simple striped polo shirt in shades of blue with dark denim jeans which weren't skin tight but complimented the structure of his legs and hips particularly well.
He was halfway down the staircase when he heard the heated whispers of his parents. Strangely, it sounded almost as if his father was laughing at something, Sebastian felt a little relieved. He gently walked two more steps down, trying to get close enough to hear them but keeping quiet enough to remain unnoticed.
"I know, I know. No, Edward we shouldn't laugh its technically bullying." He heard his mother say, laughing.
"But this has worked out so much better than I thought. Think about it; remember last year, when he almost blinded that kid by doing the same thing?" There was a beat of silence. Sebastian cursed under his breath; he hated that memory and had done everything possible to tarnish it from his mind.
"Edward!" She scolded. "Come on this isn't fair." She drew out the last syllable before breaking out into a giggle.
The family were able to joke about his past mistakes occasionally now, at the time he'd been given a harsh lecture, resulting in his allowance being cut for three months, a grounding and most regrettably, formal apologies sent to both Blaine and Dave Karofsky as well as the several other (hundred) people he'd personally offended over the past eighteen months. It was a low point in his otherwise superior life.
"You've got to see the hilarity of it though, right? He turns up home an hour late, drenched in red dye with a face that looks like someone just sent some horrible manipulated photographs of him nude around the entire school-" Edward snorted at his own hilarity, Sebastian was now almost at breaking point. His father knew about that incident as well, he hated his warped sense of humour sometimes.
"Don't talk about him that way. Wait- what if that's what happened? You don't think-?" There was a dramatic gasp, and then the pair broke out into laughter.
That was it, he needed some air. Sebastian practically jumped the rest of the distance to the bottom of the staircase, landing agilely. He crossed the space towards the door and grabbed the lead that was hanging from the coat hook by the front door which of course immediately gained the attention of the small but incredible energetic collie who was lounging in the next room. Cas bounded into the hallway, almost knocking Sebastian backwards whilst he whined at him to hurry up and get going.
After sensing the movement of the previously sleeping creature, Amelié and Edward turned suddenly from where they were keeled over laughing to look towards the door.
"'Bastian honey? Where are you going?" Amelié asked, in a feather light tone.
"Out." He replied in a clipped tone, facing the door.
"What about dinner? I made our favourite when I saw you'd had a rough day." She tried.
He rolled his eyes and held his breath. Attaching the lead to Cas, he turned and slammed the door behind him, heading to the only place he knew could really calm him down on a day like this.
After a brief walk in the opposite direction to central Lima, he reached the city park, which was surprisingly empty for the early evening. He released the now intolerable energetic collie from his lead, and he ran off up and over the biggest hill in the park. Fantastic, Sebastian thought.
After chasing him halfway around the park, and exhausting himself, but unfortunately not Cas - who never seemed to become tired - he finally settled down in his favourite spot; right at the top of the park. He tied Cas around the tree, and collapsed down into a nice spot of sun, really wishing he'd thought this though more and bought some kind of picnic after he skipped out on dinner.
Thankfully, he did have his favourite book, as he'd grabbed his satchel too out of habit on the way out. Sebastian fashioned a pillow out of his hoodie, leaning back and settling into the good few hours that were left before sunset when he'd return home.
He'd only reached the beginning of chapter three when he felt a shadow cast over him, and heard a soft, suspicious growl coming from Cas who had been dozing to his left. With a sigh he looked up towards the source of the shadow, expecting it to be some mother with her elementary school kid coming to compliment him on how gorgeous the dog was. Cas tended to bring out what he liked to call the "single father" reaction in literally everyone they ever walked past, with Cas's adorably dorky face and Sebastian breaking the common stereo type of compassionate dog owner, they were an unstoppable force for attention.
As it turns out, Sebastian's eyes fell upon the very last person he expected to see knelt down and cooing sweet nothing's to Cas; Kurt Hummel. Admittedly, surprise was the first emotion to hit Sebastian followed by amusement at his behaviour and then just plain annoyance because this was his park and he came here to be alone.
He quickly schooled his features into his trademark smirk before saying, "can I help you, princess?" probably a bit harsher than necessary and returning his attention back towards the well-worn book.
Kurt's face fell slightly at the offensive term from the dazed, scrunched up expression he'd adopted upon seeing Cas. He looked towards Sebastian, shooting him a glare which he unfortunately did not notice, and replied; "Your gorgeous little friend here caught this one's attention", he gestured towards his right and Sebastian looked over to see a stunning brindle greyhound sniffing delicately around the area.
"I thought a dachshund or a Chihuahua would be more your style. You know, one that fits in your handbag and matches your gay face." He laughed to himself slightly. "I'm impressed."
Kurt gave him the most insincere of smiles in return, muttered something to himself and turning to walk away.
A moment later however, he turned back to Sebastian with an unexpectedly serious expression to ask "why do you never lets down the walls you're clearly tries so desperately hard to keep up?"
This took Sebastian by surprise. As far as he was aware, Sebastian had given Kurt no reason for him to form that impression. In fact he couldn't even remember speaking to Kurt outside of insults and banter exchange in their English class. Instead of asking these thoughts aloud, he avoided the situation entirely. When it became clear that Kurt wasn't going to get a response, he sighed loudly and carried on walking away.
The truth was Sebastian couldn't let go and show his weaker side. Ever. It was pretty vulnerable of him to be sat in the park, reading classic British literature as it was. Besides, he didn't even have anyone to let go around anymore, anyway. Sebastian Smythe didn't have friends, only acquaintances, hook ups and enemies. He hadn't even had anyone he could call a friend in over six years.
The closest thing Sebastian had to a "healthy, trusting" relationship was with his older brother, Matt, who currently attended a university all the way across the country in San Francisco, meaning only saw him four times a year, and that's if he was lucky.
He'd learnt the hard way that trusting people makes you weak, it makes you vulnerable. By trusting someone else, you are giving part of yourself over to them to do as they please; to abuse it, manipulate it or throw it back in your face if they so desire.
Besides Matt, everyone he'd ever let in had broken some part of him, particularly his parents. Which is why, before he'd even begun high school; he vowed to take control and to distance himself from even the slight possibility of being hurt by someone else. It was for the same reason that he didn't believe in love, didn't let himself get attached, didn't do relationships. He must remain his own person; he must control his own live and be the decider of his own emotions.
And it worked for him. Of course he felt emotions, he was human after all. It just seemed that the only emotions he'd let consume him were hatred and lust. The hatred perfected his snarky and witty personality, his two best friends in pushing and keeping people away and the latter making him a fantastic lover, who is able to have whoever he wanted, most of the time.
When this didn't go to plan, he sank into himself. Not that he'd ever admit that to another living being, but there was a softer side to him: the side which deeply enjoyed literature and writing, writing anything and everything from novels to poems to lyrics. The side which felt truly at home at this specific spot under this particular tree whenever life was a particular ass to him, it was the side which let himself feel everything whenever no one else was looking.
The slushie incident must have gotten to him more than he thought, rubbing his hands across his face to pull him back to reality. He was pretty sure he'd just read the same paragraph eight times over, and not a single word had sunk in.
He glanced to his watch, and realised a lot more time had passed than he originally thought. He looked around to take in his surroundings, noticing for the first time the late hour by the darkening sky, highlighted by gorgeous, golden orange tones that bled into yellows, whites and even patches of red that spoke only of a warm spring evening – a pleasant turnaround from the cooler weather of last week.
The park was almost empty now, as it was a still a weekday in mid-March after all, but he noticed across the way were two small figures, nearly shadows now, hard to make out with the lack of light. One was leaning softly against a tree, the other four legged and a lot less graceful. Kurt was still here; perhaps he should say hi and apologize for earlier. No, he couldn't.
He debated for a few minutes whether this was too out of character to be plausible, but decided that seen as he couldn't get back into the mood to read, fuck it. He'd go and talk to Lady Hummel.
He made his way across the park, hoping that Kurt wouldn't look up and see him approaching, so he'd have some time to figure out how he was going to play this. Thankfully, his prayers were answered, and Kurt didn't look up even when Sebastian made his presence obvious by clearing his throat rather loudly. Oh, so he was ignoring him then. Cute.
He sat down hard on the grass beside the bench that Kurt was occupying; he was nearly pulled sideways by the force of Cas seeing another dog again. He steadied himself and looked up to Kurt, who had his face buried in the latest issue of Vogue, (which was not shocking at all), his jaw clenched and posture stiff, as if being in the very presence of Sebastian was something that required incredible self-control. Which to be honest, it probably did.
"I saw you earlier, you know." Kurt said, surprising Sebastian with his strange choice of greeting.
"Well, that's shocking, considering that we share two classes each and every weekday." He half grimaced, drawing out each syllable of the latter half of the sentence, as if to describe the true torture he felt from it.
"I mean, I saw what happened after school, before you left." Kurt retorted, deflecting the sarcasm. Sebastian's usual certainty of having the upper hand in the conversation suddenly dropped.
"I don't know what you're talking about." He replied, eyes dropping to the floor.
"Sebastian, whilst watching you get hit in the face with that cup of icy justice was the highlight of my entire week, or perhaps even my entire year, I can tell it's actually hit you deep enough to force you to feel some kind of human emotion." Kurt said, placing his copy of Vogue aside to look at Sebastian, finally.
"Are you psychoanalyzing me, Kurt?"
"No. I'm just trying to understand what you're doing. You show up at McKinley, sulking for the entire week straight, hardly talking to anyone, not even the handful of mildly attractive guys and then when you finally get slushied, you turn all angsty and turn up in the park of all places. That's very… emotionally-tortured-artist of you. It just doesn't fit at all with the image I had of you."
"Yeah well you don't know me do you?" He almost spat. He hated how pathetically accurate Kurt's portrayal of his behaviour was. It was true, he'd even stopped trying to talk to Robin after about three days.
"Quite obviously not." He responded, feeling the tension. "We took bets on when it would happen by the way, the slushie. I bet a lot sooner, I was shocked by how long you lasted, it happens to everyone, even the jocks, though that's more of an initiation than a humiliation." He said after a few moments, to try and ease the awkwardness.
It didn't work.
"Fantastic." He regretted coming over to talk to Kurt. It was a stupid spur of the moment decision that was just winding him up more. He got up to leave, he'd taken a few steps when Kurt blurted out "I thought you'd-"
"Thought I'd what?" He asked, genuinely quite curious.
"Never mind." He replied, turning once again to pick up his Vogue.
Sebastian shrugged, pulling Cas along whilst he walked out of the park. If he turned back at all to look at Kurt, engrossed in his magazine, Kurt didn't see.