Title: Creeping On A Stranger
Word Count: 6,488
Summary: Seblaine Week 2014: Day 1 (Alternative Meeting). Sebastian has always had a habit of getting in the way and making a nuisance of himself. Since his little sister had gotten sick when he was eleven, he has spent years trying to gain back the attention of his parents.
Disclaimer: I am in no way associated with Glee, FOX, Ryan Murphy or anything else related to the FOX universe.
Warnings/Spoilers: Some minor underage drug/alcohol references. Some language. The usual tendency to try ripping readers' hearts out with feels.
Two days after Christmas – spent very carefully avoiding his parents at all costs – he catches the bus across town to the hospital. It deposits him on the front step with a whooooosh and he realises his hands are trembling.
They've been trembling for days.
He knows his way to the children's ward without being asked, but he does have to ask for Blaine's room number. It's almost a welcome change from the PICU because kids aren't generally in dire straits if they're on this ward. They aren't so sick that they could die suddenly, they aren't so injured that their bones are shattered into barely-repaired pieces… The pale yellow and green walls are more comforting than the sterile white of the PICU.
Cynthia, another nurse he recognises from his frequent visits to the hospital because of his sister, spots him from the glass inside the drug cupboard as he walks through the double doors of the ward. Something shifts on her face and he just knows she's going to say Lillian is in the PICU not the paediatric ward.
Seriously, does everyone think he's a total moron that can't keep track of his kid sister?
"I'm after Blaine Anderson," he interrupts when she walks out with her mouth opening to say something. She stills, her hands full of medicine boxes, and apparently awaits an explanation. "We know each other. I know he got moved from the PICU to here, but I don't know which room he ended up in."
She swallows, her blue eyes darting around uncomfortable. He knows he has no need to flirt with her like Therese, so he just wants the answer and then he can go. Blaine being in the regular children's ward means he no longer has to explain his reasons for visiting the boy.
"1320," she says finally. He offers a nod of thanks and turns for the corridor. "I'm sorry about your sister!" she calls after him.
He pauses for a moment, his spine stiffening. He suspects that his mother working in the hospital means everyone knows her child is here – again – and that Lillian is terribly sick – again. Yet he can't help but feel frustrated that no one ever wants to ask him how he is, how he's feeling about Lillian's sickness. They want to remind him about her and apologise for her health, as if that somehow makes it okay.
"Thanks," he mumbles, because it would be rude not to acknowledge Cynthia and he doesn't fancy her calling his mother to say that he's a jerk. Or, worse, having his mother find out he's at the hospital to visit someone other than Lillian.
He turns down the right-hand corridor, watching the room numbers decrease, until he comes to 1320. There are stupid baby animal stickers adorning the door, falsely cheerful and cheesy. He remembers visiting Lillian in the children's ward, the times they thought it was just a short stay for her battered immune system before she took a turn and landed in the PICU.
The memory almost makes him feel like vomiting.
When he finally musters up the courage to push open the door, Blaine's raised the bed into something that almost resembles sitting up. His gaze moves from the television to Sebastian when he enters, a warm smile breaking across his face. It makes tears prickle Sebastian's eyes and they fall to the ground, not quite fast enough to escape how Blaine's face falls into something concerned.
"Seb? What's wrong? Did Lillian-?"
He shakes his head, not even wanting that sentence to be finished. He's spent four years in denial about his sister's health and he's not about to consider how he'd react if she…if she…
He hurriedly trying to get rid of the tears with the back of his sleeve and tosses the brochure with the note at Blaine before he moves to stare out the window. He can't look at Blaine, can't handle seeing his expression, so instead he focuses on what he can see outside. It's not a bad view, if you like white snow stretching on forever and ever, hibernating trees – which look deader than his eyes when he woke up this morning – littering the landscape with twisted brown branches sagging under the weight of white. It's probably pretty in spring or summer.
If he focuses on it, he can hear Blaine's breathing. He can hear the shallow inhalations that have a faint whistling sound. He can hear the beep of his monitor and the beeps of IVs and alerts beyond the room. Everything seems to be as silent and still as it is outside, yet Sebastian knows his world has turned inside out. He's not sure how Blaine feels, they haven't known each other that long, but it still feels like his heart is getting carved out of his chest for reasons he doesn't understand.
"I really want to get up and hug you but I can't and you have no idea how infuriating this is," Blaine says, his voice a harsh, frustrated growl. Something hits Sebastian's back and clatters to the floor by his heel. When he looks behind him, it's a pen. "Come sit here, for God's sake."
He tries to ignore that his hands are shaking as pulls up one of the generic pale yellow chairs on Blaine's right side. Blaine reaches a hand for him automatically and it's as familiar as always when he winds their fingers together. Something squeezes in his chest and it brings tears to his eyes before he wants to acknowledge that they're there. He's gotten good at denial.
"I'm sorry, I just… I don't even…" His attempt at a sentence falters when he realises he doesn't have an explanation. It's been days and he's still trying to process it all. It's been days and he still feels absolutely raw.
"Shhh," Blaine whispers, loosening their hands to run his fingers through Sebastian's hair instead. It feels almost motherly and when he thinks about what his own mother is willing to do to get rid of him, he can't help but feel even more overwhelmingly distraught. "It's okay, Seb. Just breathe."
"It's not okay," he snaps, but it's weak and exhausted and terribly pained as he lays his head against Blaine's mattress by the boy's hip and a sob shudders out of him. Blaine's hand stills against the side of his head before it resumes moving again and he struggles to keep his emotions in check.
He's terrified of being surrounded by posh schoolboy brats. He's scared that there will be reduced opportunities to flirt with girls and maybe he'll end up having sex with a guy just because he'll need to get off. Wouldn't that prove he's gay? How would his parents handle him then?
He's terrified of losing Terry and the other guys, because he doubts he'll be able to get alcohol and weed into a posh boarding school. He's scared of how he's meant to handle his parents' abandonment, Lillian's illness, a new school, new people, without the option of getting trashed when he can no longer cope with his thoughts. Wouldn't that just prove he's a drug addict that craves a fix to keep himself together?
He's terrified of sucking at school because he knows he'll have less excuse for not attending classes when he fucking lives on campus now. He's scared that he's missed so many years, so many classes, that he's not sure any of it is going to make sense. He's tried reading the brochure for days but the words have just swum around and mocked him because he's too hysterical to focus.
He's terrified of not being able to visit Blaine whenever he wants, to steal some of the boy's comfort in moments like this as well as see Blaine gain strength as he improves. He's scared of their fledgling friendship falling to pieces and then he's not sure what he'll have, who he'll have, that he can count on.
Most of all, he's terrified of not being able to be close to Lillian. He can't even think past the terror of her health getting worse and he's nowhere around.
Blaine keeps moving his fingers through Sebastian's hair, steady and rhythmical. Gradually it helps settle the jumping of his thoughts, some of the overwhelming feelings fading into something more manageable. He's still not sure he can properly think straight but maybe he's gay, so he never really will think straight.
Oh wow, that was a piss-poor joke, even for him. His brain mocks his pitiful, conflicted thoughts.
"Maybe it'll be good for you?" Blaine asks gently, tilting up his chin and wiping awkwardly at his cheeks with an unsteady thumb. There's still a cannula attached to the back of his hand which restricts his movements, but Sebastian is oddly grateful for the care the other boy is offering him without being asked.
"How? How is this going to be good for me?" He hasn't been able to come up with one good thing in two fucking days. All he's been feeling is varying levels of panic and despair and trying to numb it with the whiskey in his closet.
"Well, it's probably safer than public school," Blaine shrugs with an uncertain smile. His thumb lingers on Sebastian's cheek a moment too long to be normal and he finds himself looking away to end the contact. "Education is important and all that stuff parents like to spout as reasons for sending you to a hellish location."
Sebastian lowers his head in shame, wiping his face with his sleeve. Blaine's had it so much worse than him and here he is, unable to accept the comfort he's craved for days. "They're just sending me there so they don't have to see me anymore. I always knew they hated having me around."
"Hey, you don't know-"
"But I do," he cuts in, his eyes flashing dangerously when his eyes turn back to the other boy. He knows that maybe it sounds irrational to anyone else but he knows, he knows.
Blaine falls silent and looks towards his casted arm, but it doesn't give Sebastian that same thrill of success as his mother giving up her side of the argument the other day.
"If it's any consolation, my parents don't like having me around much either," Blaine says with a grimace, clearly uncomfortable saying the words out loud. "I'm pretty sure they've decided that this extended hospital stay is the best thing that's ever happened to me, as far as they're concerned."
"Blaine…" Hearing the self-deprecation isn't nearly as good as feeling it.
"No, I mean, it's been like this for a couple of years now anyway so it's fine." Blaine waves away any attempt Sebastian might make at expressing sympathy, which might just sound more like pity.
So he changes tack. He asks the most burning question on his list before he can chicken out. Hell, he might not have an opportunity to see Blaine again after today, not that he's going to tell the other boy that.
"What changed a couple of years ago?"
Blaine wrinkles his nose, head tilting towards the door to the room with all its childishly gaudy stickers. "You know how you asked me not to think differently of you because you were as high as a kite when I called?"
"Mhmm."
"Will you think differently of me if I tell you?"
With a lead-in like that, Sebastian doesn't think Blaine needs to tell him. He can guess, he'd guessed weeks ago, and he's not sure how to feel about it – or about the injuries Blaine had suffered because others were disgusted by it. "You're gay," he says, rather bluntly.
Blaine stiffens, wide eyes turning back to him. "How did you-"
"You got left for dead in Ohio after a school dance," Sebastian explains, with about as much tact as a Mack truck. It shows on Blaine's face with the light that dims in his eyes and he realises that maybe he was too abrupt, too rude, too callous in his assertion. He tries to soften his tone. "I made some educated guesses."
"At least that proves you haven't burned holes in your brain with all that weed," Blaine mumbles, biting his lip. His eyes betray how insecure he feels, his fingers curling and moving away from Sebastian to rest against his stomach. It's like knowing that detail is meant to be enough to change everything. "I understand if you… You know…want to judge me and leave and stuff."
Sebastian snorts. He has no intention of mentioning his dalliances with other guys right now because he's pretty sure Blaine would think he's making it up just to make him more at ease. He also doesn't want to officially make any sort of coming out speech given he's not sure what he's exactly coming out for. Mitch's suggestion of sleeping with a girl wasn't exactly disgusting to him and it made him wonder if he was a freak.
"I already knew, Killer. I still turned up, didn't I?"
"I-" Blaine looks ready to protest because, Sebastian suspects, he's always needing to justify himself and his choices to others. Then it must hit him that Sebastian's accepted it and here because he whispers, "Oh."
"Yeah, so…" He shrugs and rubs the back of his neck when the atmosphere shifts into something awkward. He's not sure that holding hands is appropriate anymore now that everything's out there.
Well.
Everything on Blaine's side, anyway.
He feels vaguely afraid of holding hands now, because he's not sure he wants to encourage Blaine into developing a crush on him or if it'll encourage his own sexuality to lean more towards boys. He's not ignorant enough to believe that the wrong sexuality is contagious but the exposure of Blaine's desire for boys adds a level of complexity to their friendship that he's not sure he wants to have.
"It sucks about the boarding school, Sebastian," Blaine says, interrupting his wayward thoughts. He tries to look unaffected by it when Blaine looks at him but he's pretty sure it fails and he looks as miserable as he feels.
"Apparently there's no point trying to argue with it." He thinks that's one of the worst parts. He can't stand that a decision so monumental – so destructive to any hope of having a relationship with his parents – has been made and he can't try to bargain for something better. As someone that craves control who has been permitted to live increasingly recklessly for four years while his parents become increasingly distant, being placed in a school with curfews and a goddamn uniform is like something out of a horror movie. "Staying sober is going to suck balls."
Blaine's expression softens, his head tilting towards Sebastian to rest more comfortably against the pillow. His hand twitches against his stomach, as if he wants to reach out again, but he doesn't and Sebastian wonders if it's wrong to feel grateful that they're both showing restraint. "Tell me about it?"
Something shutters closed inside him. He can't possibly explain when it started or why he still does it. He shakes his head and looks down, ignoring the way Blaine's face falls again. He supposes he knows Blaine's biggest secret and it's only fair to share as well but… The only thing Sebastian might share is a joint if he's feeling particularly generous. His reasons are his own and no one has ever wanted to know them so he's never tried to think about them.
"Then you really will think differently of me," he says quietly and Blaine makes a noise of protest, but he doesn't try to argue. Sebastian wonders if it's because Blaine knows he might actually think differently of him. The worst part is Sebastian wouldn't even blame him. He's aware that underage drinkers and drug users aren't exactly on a path to success but he's never cared because he's needed the numbness more.
They sit quietly for a while and he allows their attention to wander towards some old black and white movie that Blaine had been watching when he'd arrived. Cynthia walks in at some point to check Blaine's machines and asks him about his pain. She shoots a look at Sebastian that he fails to understand and walks out when she's apparently satisfied with the answers and noting them on the clipboard at the end of Blaine's bed.
"I think you might be notorious around here," Blaine says thoughtfully after the door closes, the corner of his mouth twitching.
"Notorious? Me?" It's his turn to wrinkle his nose in disagreement. He's only ever been at the hospital for his sister and offered her as much love and care as he can manage. There was the time he fell out of a tree and fractured his wrist when he was five, but other than that, he's never been a patient that has tried the patience of everyone trying to take care of him.
"Mmm… Whoever would have thought?" Blaine offers a lopsided smile when he looks away from the TV, a condescending pat of his hand to the top of Sebastian's head making his scowl deepen. "There, there. It's not all bad."
"You're a jerk," he mutters, combing his fingers through his hair to flatten it back down.
Blaine giggles weakly before he clutches at his left side with a wince. "Don't make me laugh, prick."
"Don't give me ideas," he warns, but he can't help but smile playfully. Blaine swats at him and he allows the soft contact to be made with a mock gasp of pain.
He wonders if maybe he'll miss visiting Blaine more than visiting Lillian.
Blaine has Sebastian's number, but talking on the phone isn't as good as actually seeing each other. He'd packed a couple of boxes with Blaine talking in his ear but he knew he'd been distant, his answers hollow.
The night before New Year, he texts Terry and the guys come together for some sort of farewell thing. He takes along his three bottles of whiskey and bit-under quarter ounce he had left because he highly doubts he'll be able to take those with him. He also doesn't have enough time to consume them himself unless he wants his parents to hit the roof more than they already have.
When he turns up, Terry hands him some of his money back and he thinks that's why he's such a good guy, despite the easy drug supply business he offers.
"Jesus, you'll be all fucking…posh and shit," John slurs, shoving his shoulder because he's too unsteady to manage nudging it.
"Unlike like your pathetic excuse for appropriate language," Mitch says, taking another puff of the joint he'd just rolled.
"Shut the fuck up," John grumbles, leaning his head against the plastic slide and closing his eyes. A few minutes later, a rumbling snore explodes from his mouth and they all nearly pee themselves laughing because they're so high and drunk that everything is way more funny than it's ever been.
He wonders if he'll miss these guys more than visiting Blaine and Lillian.
Since the confrontation with his mother on the staircase, he hasn't really seen his parents. It's like there's a war of attrition taking place, a mutually, and silently, agreed decision that he'll stay out of their way if they stay out of his. It's obvious he got the note because he broke their stupid fucking photo and maybe that's why they avoid him. Maybe they wonder if he'll break their faces. He's not even sure that he wouldn't pass up the opportunity.
New Year holds absolutely no celebration for him, but he does manage to visit Lillian and press his lips to her forehead for the final time before he's given the short-shift out of the Smythe family home. Despite it all, despite her taking the biggest section of his parents' heart, he's never resented her for it all. He's not sure why. Maybe it's because she's so fragile, so delicate, and it's all just some fucked up thing with her body that is out of everyone's control. He can't hate her for being sick.
He can hate himself for his own destruction but hey, you can't have everything, right?
He leaves his parents with her and says he needs to go and do something. They ignore him, or avoid engaging with him, so he walks out and swaps floors to the children's ward to see Blaine. He's dozing when Sebastian enters and he almost backs out of the room when he realises, unwilling to wake him when he knows how poorly Blaine sleeps, except a single golden eye blearily opens and he freezes in his tracks.
"Seb?"
"Yeah, hey…" He shuffles forward, his fingers twisting together in the pocket of his hoodie. "I, um… They brought me to say goodbye to Lillian but…well, I couldn't just say goodbye to her, you know?"
Blaine shakes his head as he stirs awake, his eyes opening as he searches for the remote that will raise his bed. The motor whirrs and Blaine winces when it jostles his ribs and his leg, but otherwise he doesn't give any indication that he's in pain. Sebastian wonders if he no longer notices it.
"Come here, dumbass," Blaine says, holding out his hand that Sebastian takes without a second thought. Any knowledge that Blaine's gay and Sebastian's unsure about his own sexuality doesn't matter. He holds onto Blaine like he's an anchor, like he's the only thing that will give him life and air.
"Now, you listen to me," Blaine begins, his voice firm as he squeezes Sebastian with all his strength. "I can still call you and when I get out of here, I'll add you to Facebook and Skype and text you all the time. This isn't goodbye. It's… It's just that we might not see each other for a while."
"Blaine…" He's not going to cry, but it's not like Blaine makes that decision easy. Fucking hell. He almost regrets coming down here. Lillian hadn't been conscious enough to understand that he was going away for a while. "You've got…months of rehab ahead of you and-"
"And I don't have a lot of friends," Blaine cuts in, his heavily casted arm lifting to bump against Sebastian's hand, the tips of his fingers tickling Sebastian's held hand. "My brother will only put up with so much, y'know."
He smiles, although he's pretty sure it's watery because Blaine makes a soft tutting noise. "And you think I'll put up with more?"
"If I've got your phone number and Facebook and Skype, I'll just keep harassing you until you give in and reply to my neediness," Blaine says, a brilliantly wide smile on his face that makes Sebastian choke on a sad laugh.
"Thank you," he whispers, squeezing Blaine's hand. "I… I don't have a lot of friends either. I've missed too much school to get to know anyone."
"Then you go make some at this new school of yours," Blaine says, his voice firm enough to border on a demand, his thick cast nudging Sebastian's cheek like a boxer before he finally lowers it. "And remember you might need to put up with my whiny ass from time to time, okay?"
Sebastian sniffs and nods, wanting to hug Blaine or kiss him or something that truly shows how grateful he is to have this sort of support in his life after creeping into his room while he was unconscious. Except he's pretty sure that a kiss might cross a boundary he doesn't dare cross, cause confusion – for both of them – he could do without.
"You better get out of here before your parents set off an alarm to lure you out, or we both end up in tears," Blaine huffs, his shoulders deflating as the fire peters out of him.
At least he thinks this is a hard situation for Blaine too. He's not sure how comforting that is but…maybe it's something. Maybe it means their friendship can last during his time of exile.
"Don't stop fighting to heal, Killer," he murmurs, offering one final squeeze to Blaine's hand before he hurries out and does something stupid he'll regret, like try to memorise what Blaine's lips feel like or his mouth tastes like or whether his tongue is tentative or confident when he kisses back.
He has to take a good ten minutes in the stairwell to calm himself down, more from his almost-hysterical tears than anything else. Hurt eats at his heart and he knows he's leaving shattered pieces of his soul with Lillian and Blaine for safekeeping. He paces around the landing behind the door until he can breathe through his nose and figures he can return to Lillian's room and his awaiting parents. He's not sure he has an explanation if they see his flushed face, red eyes and nose, so he just has to force himself to breathe through the waves of pain until they've swirled back into the emotionless box he likes to store his feelings in.
When he returns to Lillian's room, his parents don't even glance at him. He's not sure why he ever thought he needed to conceal his upset.
"Ready to go?" his father asks.
He shrugs, turns, and walks back out again. He can hear his parents following him and makes no indication that he gives a fuck about them.
He knows he won't miss them.
Dalton Academy is a school for snobs.
Sebastian might have a tendency for brutal honesty most of the time, but he's also pretty good with first impressions.
A couple of bags of his things were stowed in the trunk while his parents sat in the front of the car to make the drive. It didn't take long – twenty minutes, tops – but it may as well have been twenty hours. Across town felt like it was across the world and he'd worn a fairly permanent scowl the entire drive, refusing to entertain the thought that he probably looked like a toddler who'd been denied chocolate at the Wal-Mart checkout.
As soon as they drive through the gates of Dalton, he knows the photos hadn't done the pretentiousness of the place justice. It's imposing and ornate and looks so fancy it may as well have been the home for Dante's Devil at the centre of his Hell. He'd previously thought the Hellhole was his family home, but now he suspects that it's just part of the outer circles. He can't see much of the carefully manicured gardens shown in the pictures because they, like the trees outside Blaine's room, are hibernating – dead – for the winter too, but he suspects they're probably as ridiculously extravagant as the front façade when everything blooms to life in spring.
He'd never realised how much he was going to miss his bland, filthy public school until he takes in the ridiculous front of his new school. He's not going to fit in here at all.
He wraps his coat and scarf tighter around him to keep the chill from settling on his skin. His father confidently leads the way and his mother trails half a step behind, their hands interconnected like they need to show solidarity in front of Sebastian. There's a stiffness to William Smythe's walk, once which Sebastian knows is used when his father is putting on the front of being in control, one which he knows comes from his stint in the military as a boy. Oh God, this isn't some military academy, is it? He hadn't tried to read the brochure that closely…
Alienated from his parents' show of support for each other, he starts to look around as they walk through corridors which look the same. If he'd thought the snobby, pretentious exterior was bad, it's nothing compared to the inside. He'll have an absolute field day describing this to Blaine when the boy first calls.
His father exchanges words with a woman sitting behind a desk – since when did a principal have a fucking secretary? – and after a brief phone call, they're sent into a room filled with warm wooden furniture that absolute reeks of age, money, class and pretentiousness.
'Pretentiousness' is quickly going to become Sebastian's new favourite word because it fits his disgust for all that he sees.
"You must be Sebastian," the principal says, rising from his seat with an outstretched hand. A plastic triangle on his desk indicates that this is 'Dean Wilson James'. He forces his politest of smiles and accepts the handshake, offering a little more much pressure than good ol' Willie to make it clear he's not going to be some fucking pushover
"Take a seat, take a seat," James says after he's shaken everyone's hands and sat behind his desk again. His expression settles into something far more authoritative, far more the look of a principal.
Sebastian sits off to one side of the desk while his parents continue to clutch hands. Pathetic.
"So tell me a little bit about yourself," James implores and Sebastian tries very hard not to twist his face into something that looks like he's smelled something foul. Like hell he's going to say anything to this guy.
When his silence is taken as a surly refusal to say anything, his mother leaps in, taking the opportunity to explain that their family situation is "delicate" because of Lillian's illness. James listens to her but Sebastian is acutely aware that he keeps getting looked at, and it takes a lot for him not to jump over the desk and gouge those stupid eyes from his head. He attempts to tune it all out, his parents exchanging stories of Sebastian's struggling grades in middle school and the even worse grades after his freshman year at high school. His mother suggests he's found the school transition difficult and his father claims he's lost touch with his middle school friends.
It's not true, because he knew Terry and company long before he upgraded schools. He'd also been glad to see the end of some of the jerks he'd been friends with in middle school, but he's not going to bring that detail to his parents' attention.
"We're…concerned about his welfare," his mother says, and it filters into his awareness. He refuses to look at her despite knowing three sets of eyes are on him now.
"Why is that?" Wilson James asks, as if his mother isn't champing at the bit to spill their entire life to a total stranger anyway. Thank God this isn't a therapy session or he would have walked out by now.
"Sebastian's defiant," William says, which causes Sebastian's brow to fall into a scowl. "We've had to privilege Lillian's care at the expense of Sebastian's life. Perhaps this is just his rebellious teenage phase, but perhaps it's not."
"He fails to take care of himself properly," Amelia adds and Sebastian can see her face turned towards him.
He decides he's about ready to walk out anyway because he doesn't have any interest in hearing his life story told for him.
An unsteady sigh fills the room. "He disappears for hours and I don't know where he goes or what he does. I'm pretty sure he was drunk and high before Christmas though," his mother says, her voice almost broken as she admits it.
Sebastian grits his teeth. She's a doctor. Shouldn't she know the signs of intoxication? Then again, maybe she's as daft as Therese and Cynthia thinking he doesn't know which floor or room his sister is in.
"He's also not eating properly," William adds, as if it's merely an afterthought rather than something potentially important.
"I see," Wilson James says and Sebastian wants to stand and shout, "Do you, Willie? Do you?" but instead he tries to focus on the calm he's found sitting with Blaine, curling his hands into his lap and continuing to look away, examining the books which line James' bookshelf, the plaques and photos and awards that take up the walls around them. He thinks Dean Wilson James is a pretentious snob too. "Is there anything else I should be aware of?"
His parents shrug, shake their heads – he can hear their movements – before his mother seems to remember he's in the room. "What about you, Sebastian?"
Oh. So he does exist, but only when it's convenient to remember he's there.
"I'm fine," he says, his voice utterly clipped and devoid of emotion.
"Very well then." Wilson James rises from his seat with a bundle of papers in his hands. "If you'll follow me, I'll show you all to Sebastian's new room."
Sebastian's parents move first and though Sebastian would rather trail at the back of the group, it appears Wilson James is determined to wait for him. Maybe the principal has seen students attempt to run off unless a constant set of eyes are on them.
James directs his parents down a series of corridors that Sebastian thinks he'll get lost among because they all have the same appearance of austerity and pretentiousness. There are artworks and tapestries, vases and chandeliers, marble floors and plus carpets. He's not sure how he's ever meant to remember the way.
The principal is still holding the papers when they arrive at a room – 483.
Jesus Christ, how many rooms does this place have?
His parents enter first. Sebastian doesn't really care what the room is like. This feels like a rehab and a jail and a school rolled into one.
"Have a look, Sebastian," James encourages.
Sebastian tries not to sneer, because he has no interest in anyone being polite to him for their own conniving reasons.
The first thing he notices is the second bed in the room and-
Oh fuck no.
"I'm not going to-"
"We don't have single rooms available, I'm afraid," James interrupts smoothly, as if he'd known the argument that was coming before it had even finished forming in Sebastian's mind. "Your roommate will be here tomorrow."
Delightful. Is setting the mattress on fire an offence?
The side of the room which is clearly occupied is ridiculously neat and ordered. The blanket on the bed is perfectly folded down, his books at perfect right angles to the desk, his chair perfectly centred beneath the desk. He makes a guess that his roommate has some sort of perfectionistic OCD complex which Sebastian decides he'd going to fuck with as often as he can just so maybe a single room can be arranged because he makes his roommate so irate.
"Sebastian?" His mother separates her hand from his father, reaching out for him with something like an apology on her face. He sidesteps her, leaving her hand to close around the swirl of air left in his wake. He hopes it's as cold to her as her abandonment is to him.
He walks across the room, taking an odd sort of shelter on the side that his roommate occupies. Distance between him and his parents expands to the extent he may as well be in England. "You've seen where I'll sleep. If I can get my bags, you can leave to see see Lillian."
"See what we mean?" William says, gesturing to Sebastian as if Wilson James is incapable of seeing for himself and needs some pointers on how, or where, to look.
Honestly, Sebastian is ashamed to think that he once thought his parents were intelligent because they both had fancy degrees.
"Perhaps you could retrieve his bags, Mister Smythe, Missus Smythe? I wouldn't like to be keeping you given Lillian's state."
Sebastian can't even stop himself from the revulsion that he feels because even Wilson fucking James is privileging Lillian's health over him. Which probably just makes him sound like a selfish, spoiled brat because out of the two Smythe children, he's not the one that's dying.
Sebastian knows his mom won't return but he humours the principal as his parents leave and starts examining some of the things on his roommate's desk. There are textbooks which talk about things Sebastian's never even heard of littering the pages he glances over.
"So now that we're alone…"
Wilson James takes two steps into the room and Sebastian snaps the book shut. The hairs at the back of his neck rise as he turns around. There's something that feels almost predatory about being left in a room with an old guy, something creepy that unsettles his stomach.
"Tell me, are you angry at your sister? Or jealous of her?"
The question throws him so suddenly that his surprised expression replaces the stiffly composed one. He'd definitely felt threatened by James creeping into the room.
"My sister can't control her health any more than my mother can," Sebastian says, his fingers lingering on the desk, the foreign books, before he pulls his arms back towards his body and folds them over his chest.
"Is control important to you?"
Yes.
"What is this? A shrink session?" he demands instead.
Dean James looks entirely unperturbed by the stormy emotions he's whipping up inside Sebastian's chest. "I'd just like to understand your side of things a little better after you were so quiet during our intake meeting."
He scowls, hugging his arms to his chest a little tighter. "You're the principal, not a therapist. I fail to see why you need to understand anything."
James smiles like Sebastian just handed him the keys to a kingdom. "Ah, young Sebastian, I think you'll enjoy your roommate immensely."
Sebastian opens his mouth to say something but his father enters, drops the two bags inside the door, and walks out without another word.
As if Sebastian didn't feel abandoned enough, his father can't even an attempt a farewell.
Sebastian wants to yell, "And fuck you too!" down the corridor.
"I see," Wilson James says with a glance at the door, where Sebastian suspects his father is long gone. "You know, Sebastian," he moves the bags towards Sebastian's bed and leaves them there, presumably to be unpacked, "Dalton Academy is sometimes viewed as a family for those who feel they don't have one."
"I have one," Sebastian says, but the words aren't convincing anyone and he knows James can see that. He can't remember a time he felt like he truly belonged to his family.
James puts the papers down on his desk and meanders towards the door. "Everything you need to know about the school will be in that bundle. Your uniform and books will be sorted out tomorrow." The principal pauses, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinises Sebastian. "I have an open door policy if you ever want to talk."
Sebastian's halfway to saying that he has absolutely no interest in talking, but James has already departed and closed the door behind him.
And then Sebastian's alone.
~TBC~