Title: Creeping On A Stranger
Word Count: 5,661
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: None in particular for this chapter.
Sebastian begrudgingly accepts Clarington's help with the never-ending pile of homework over the weekend because he's fairly sure that if he doesn't, he's going to get kicked out for being a monumental academic failure. Sometimes he feels something he supposes is guilt, because he's so slow and requires Clarington to explain and re-explain the information on the page several times before he starts to get it, but Clarington – for all his self-satisfied smugness as he points out things in their textbooks – insists that it's the same content he needs to learn anyway and teaching it is helping him gain a better understanding.
With enough help, he successfully completes the homework he has for Geometry, American History and Biology and feels better prepared for any quizzes that those teachers might want to hit him with on Monday. Blaine texts him over the weekend with random anecdotes about his day from the hospital bed, such as the terrible food that consists of a lot of pureed vegetables or lack of cable so he's reduced to relying on tacky shows that the masses watch, that help Sebastian feel some semblance of normality, feel some semblance of a connection to someone beyond the Dalton walls that has demons of his own. His fingers trace over the letters until they form words he understands and painstakingly types out responses.
Late at night, when he stares at the ceiling and listens to Clarington's snuffling snores, he wonders why his parents haven't messaged him about Lillian's progress, or lack thereof.
His glasses arrive on Wednesday and he snaps a photo to send to Blaine. Having the glasses helps reduce the furriness around the edge of words although the letters still swim around the page and he sits anxiously in classes, constantly worried a teacher might call on him for an answer or to read a paragraph from the textbook. Mrs Fincher has told him to return at the end of each day for additional help in reading but he refuses to concede he needs it. Even if the glasses help, he feels foolish wearing them.
And that's not even a fraction of how he feels because he can't read properly.
A routine gradually develops as the days blend into weeks, where Clarington helps him with aspects of his homework and teachers give him some extra time to get it done without actually asking him if he wants it. He realises that the rare times he's called on in class aren't anything that might embarrass him and his difficulty and he starts to wonder if they collude to talk about him as much as he suspects. He thinks they probably all know about his inability and are committed to either leaving him out of discussions about something related to the readings or they're attempting to reduce his nervousness about turning up to class. He's not sure which option he'd prefer.
After Blaine is moved to the rehab unit during the first week of February, his phone goes through days of silence. He types texts out with a Herculean effort but they all go unanswered. It makes him wonder if he can convince James to get some weekend leave to visit the boy and his sister, if he can attempt to offer them both some support and encouragement. When Blaine finally does call, his sentences are short as he explains he's tired and weak, too exhausted to talk for long. Sebastian can't help but notice that his voice is softer and sadder than he's ever heard before. It increases his determination to visit Blaine, but he fears he hasn't done anything to earn any of the privileges that would enable him to go.
By the third weekend in February, Sebastian has noticed such a marked decline in the enthusiasm or hope in Blaine's calls and texts that he knows he no longer has any choice but to go to James' office and try to negotiate his way out of school for a few hours on Saturday. His sole focus has become Blaine, with Lillian a close second. He knows she's still in the PICU and he's starting to think – in the dead of night when he can't sleep – that she might never leave.
James seems almost suspiciously jovial as he reviews Sebastian's academic progress and attendance record. He's managed to go to all his classes but his marks remain low, mostly because he's still having problems with reading. The glasses have helped, having Clarington as some sort of….study buddy has helped, but his work is riddled with errors that he's pretty sure some of his teachers take a perverse pleasure in pointing out to him with red or green ink splashed across his books and papers.
"So tell me, Sebastian. Why is it you wish to leave this weekend?" James asks, his hands falling away from the laptop that holds Sebastian's grades, his history of failed attempts at trying to do better for the sake of Blaine and Lillian.
Sebastian looks down at his hands, the way they twist together and settle in his lap. He knows he can't mention Blaine here. He's not sure what sort of dialogue may exist between the principal and his parents. "My sister is sick and I haven't seen her in six weeks."
"How humanitarian of you," James surmises, bordering almost on sarcasm. It makes the hairs on the back of Sebastian's neck raise, his defensiveness over Lillian ruffled by James' cavalier attitude. The only reason he tamps down on his bitter words is because the man pulls a sheet from one of the many trays on his desk and begins writing on it. "There is a bus which stops outside our gates at eight, nine and ten in the morning on Saturdays. It deposits students on our doorstep at two, three and four in the afternoon. You may catch whichever bus you wish in and out, but ensure you return otherwise I will be forced to call your parents and the police."
Sebastian feels something flurry to life in his belly and his chest as he nods at the information, knowing he wouldn't dare break the rules and suspecting James knows that perfectly well. The last thing he needs is his parents contacted. After the chasm of silence between them since he was dropped off at Dalton, he has no intention to explain to them that he went to visit Lillian and someone else they've never heard of.
He takes the leaving form signed by James with him and calls Blaine on the walk back to his room, his steps lighter than they've been in weeks.
"So hypothetically, if I wanted to get you something to cheer you up, what would your room number be?" he says as innocently as he can, passing a landscape of somewhere in Italy that means he's definitely on the right path to getting back to his room. He still gets lost in the myriad of similar corridors sometimes.
"4803," Blaine answers after a pause laden with suspicious interest. "Why?"
"I already told you why," Sebastian says with a grin, wondering if he might get some flowers to take to Blaine, an attempt at brightening the boy's mood as well as his room. It amuses him how similar Blaine's room number is to his own, but he keeps that to himself. "How are you doing?"
Blaine sighs, the sound wobbling unsteadily and betraying his distress. "My leg is really weak," he mumbles, something Sebastian has heard several times already. He doesn't dare ask Blaine if he'll ever be able to properly walk again on a leg that was so badly broken, but he suspects it's something Blaine might think about a lot and the weight of it has dragged him down.
Sebastian slows in his walk through the corridor, searching for the right thing to say when he tended to be awful at helping anyone. "Then you just need to keep trying to build up the strength, right? You had a lot of months not using it. It's to be expected."
"Yeah, but… I feel like a child learning to walk all over again," Blaine admits, his voice soft enough over the line that Sebastian thinks might be because he's ashamed to admit his weakness the same way that Sebastian won't admit he's struggling to read.
Undeterred, Sebastian tries to find a way to lighten the sadness in Blaine's tone. "Well then, just imagine how great you'll be at walking after learning twice!"
When Blaine stays silent instead of offering a quiet laugh like he'd hoped, he's struck with gratitude that James permitted him to visit his sister and, unknowingly, Blaine. The boy on the phone is nothing like the positive person he'd last seen in early January.
Clarington is in their room when he opens the door. He's forced to end the call because his roommate is so incredibly nosy about whom he speaks to so often. Concern blooms in his belly at Blaine's barely audible farewell. He almost decides to tell Blaine he's coming rather than surprise him, but the call ends before he gets the chance.
"Your mystery person again?" Clarington says, looking up from reading his British History textbook with an amused expression. Sebastian really, really wants to point out that it's a Friday afternoon and his roommate should take some time off from studying, but that might sound like he cares and he'd never want that to happen.
"It can be whoever you want it to be," Sebastian says without the faintest care in the world, discarding his blazer over the back of his desk chair and searching for fresh clothes to change into. He still craves the comforting warmth of his hoodies and jerseys to the constriction of a uniform that reminds him of all he's lost.
"Which means yes."
Sebastian shrugs and picks out a pair of jeans, t-shirt and jersey to wear when he visits Lillian and Blaine the next day. There's not much which his roommate could say that would dampen his mood right now.
His sleep is as restless as always while he spends hours lying awake, except this time he's imagining a thousand different scenarios of what he'll say to Lillian and Blaine when he sees them. His alarm beeping is almost a relief, even though Clarington groans something about how it's a Saturday and could he please shut the fucking thing off?
He'd already decided to make the most of his day escaping the school. It means he's the only boy on the 8am bus into Westerville, but he fails to see that as a bad thing. He unexpectedly discovers a benefit to being a local boy – he knows without asking exactly where to go so he can transfer buses to the route that takes him to the hospital. By 8.35, he's outside the hospital doors.
Around two this morning, he thought it best to visit Lillian first, just in case his parents stopped by later. He also figured she would be in a drug-induced haze from night-time sedation whereas in a few hours, Blaine would be more alert and grateful for his company – or so he hoped – for the extended period of time he could stay.
He spies a few nurses and doctors that he recognises and who he knows recognise him. He wonders if they'll scurry off to call his mom and report that he's here and isn't he meant to be at boarding school now and should they call security to escort him from the premises?
He's so early that the PICU is empty of visitors lingering in the corridors of sick children. It makes it easy to get into Lillian's room and shut the door behind him. He feels furtive, like it's a covert mission he can't afford to be caught carrying out, but he knows he can't afford to get caught. His parents could get here within half an hour and pitch a fit.
The room is dim except for a thin strip of sunlight illuminating a section of linoleum and casting light and shadow over his sister's face. He can't tell if it's a trick of the light that makes her look paler than he remembers, more sallow and small and frail. His heart quivers as quick as a hummingbird's wings as he approaches her, brushing his fingertips through her hair before kissing her forehead gently.
"Sebby?"
He draws away, startled at being caught. When he looks into green eyes that look vague and dulled, his eyes water as he hopes it's because of the medication. He slips his fingers between hers and offers her the best smile he can when he can already feel his emotions crumbling into dust.
"Hey, kiddo," he murmurs, tracing the prominent curve of her cheekbone gently with his index finger. She smells like antiseptic and illness, and yet there's still something faintly sweet about her scent that he knows is solely Lillian.
"I've missed you," she whispers, her tiny hand raising his to her chest. He can feel her heart beating and it's hard not to break down in tears because he wonders how much it struggles to keep beating every day while he struggles to abide by rules he never wanted to come down on him.
"More or less than how much I've missed you?" he says, shifting her over so he can wriggle in beside her and let her head rest against his shoulder.
She rolls her eyes and everything about it reminds him of himself. He hadn't expected her to have picked up on so many of his mannerisms after years slipping in and out of alertness. "More. Duh."
He chokes on a wet laugh, his fingers carding through her hair and cradling her jaw. Her gaze is still blurred but there's a faint smile curling her pale pink lips. He can't help but marvel at how she's more aware than she was a month ago. He wishes his parents had called to update him on this. It feels like if she can maintain a conversation filled with gentle teasing, she must be getting better.
"Why'd you make mom and dad so upset that they sent you away?" Lillian says suddenly, tilting her head into his hand. His thumb runs around the dark circles that ring her eyes like a raccoon and he wants so badly to get rid of them and make her look healthy and happy. She's too young to look so exhausted and it's a stark reminder that she remains terribly ill.
He cuddles her gently, mindful of jostling the range of wires and leads and cords and tubes attached to her tiny body. "Because they knew I could look after myself and wanted to make sure they could focus on taking care of you," he lies, hoping it sounds as convincing as he wants it to be. Anyway, maybe it's the truth. He doesn't want his sister knowing the extent of his destructive behaviour.
Lillian smiles at him sadly, as if she can see straight through his thin façade. "Don't you wish you could be here more?"
Something twists in his chest, painful and raw, and it sinks into his stomach with an uncomfortably heavy coldness. "Every day."
He leans down to kiss the top of her head, hoping to comfort her, but her sad smile stays in place as she scrutinises him. She's wise for an eleven year old, wiser than some of the boys he goes to school with. It's this aspect of his sister, the one that's his best friend and the object of so much of his affection who sees him for who he truly is, that he misses the most. He misses having someone to confide his secrets to that will still cuddle him at the end of it. She's someone that he's folded into his bed so many times, holding her tiny body in his arms after a nightmare that left her trembling with weak sobs. She's someone that he's encouraged to eat another spoonful of food in the hopes that it will keep her strength up to fight another day. It's why, even as she steals all the attention from his parents, he can't hate her.
"Promise me something?" she says, squeezing his hand against her own and drawing him away from his reverie. He looks at her with a raised eyebrow, wondering what on earth he's meant to promise an eleven year old. "Don't be a bitter teenage boy because of me."
His eyes widen in surprise, wondering where she learned those sorts of words. It sounds like something his parents might have said and he tries not to think that maybe she'd overheard them discussing him in such terms as she'd lapsed in and out. "I'm not bitter."
"Seb, I love you, but I know you hurt too." Her thumb brushes over his knuckles, something he thinks is determination glittering in her tired eyes. "You want to be this brave big brother in front of me but all those feelings have to go somewhere."
He pouts at her. It's not fair than an eleven year old who has missed copious amounts of school is this intelligent and it's being wasted by an illness that ravages her most vital organ. "Stop being so smart," he complains mildly.
She giggles and cuddles into his side with a fond smile. "Love you, dummy."
His heart swells at her words, something he hadn't heard in far too long. Getting out of school this weekend was the best thing he could have done because his sister is more lucid than she'd been in months. All his weeks of missing her, all his weeks of worrying about her ailing health, have been erased with her confident tactility, her ability to maintain a conversation. "I love you too, Lils."
He stays with her for nearly an hour, long after she's fallen asleep against his shoulder. It's when the clock nears ten above her doorway that he starts worrying his parents might show up. He really doesn't want to run into them. Lillian barely stirs as he untangles their hands and bodies, sliding free of the bed and ensuring she's comfortable and tucked in. He whispers a prayer as he kisses her forehead, another prayer in millions of unanswered ones where she gets a heart and survives all this. He'd never be prepared to say goodbye to her.
Therese is on duty and eyeing him from the nurse's desk when he leaves the room. "Why are you here?" she demands, her lips curling into an unpleasant sort of smile that makes him think he's done for.
"Weekend privileges," he says with a shrug and glancing towards Lillian's closed door, shoving his hands into his pockets as he approaches the nurse's station. "I wanted to see Lillian."
"Do your parents know?"
"Nope." He leans against the counter and flashes his best grin. "Can you keep a secret?"
Her eyes narrow at him and he thinks she'll protest. Maybe she's wised up to his flirtatious ways and won't stand for it anymore. Maybe the hospital has his photo circulating so that if he showed up at Lillian's bedside, security would automatically be called to escort him away. Maybe she's stalling him now as they stomp around in the lift while it clatters slowly upwards to the sixth floor.
"You're lucky I've known you since you were born and I've seen how much you love your sister, Sebastian," Therese mutters and waves her hand to shoo him away. His grin widens into something far more honest as he skips towards the elevator to travel to his next destination.
The door to Blaine's room is open when he arrives outside it with a small bunch of multi-coloured flowers from the gift shop downstairs. He feels awkward holding them, like it borders on being a romantic gesture rather than a friendly one. He'd expressly asked for flowers that were cheerful and for a friend and he'd been presented with a bunch of unfamiliar flowers that are bright yellows and oranges and whites. He doesn't think they seem too romantic...
Blaine is propped up in bed with a book in his lap and wearing a ridiculously large navy blue hoodie when he enters. He takes a brief moment to admire his profile before he realises that whatever Blaine is reading is so engrossing that it thoroughly holds his attention and Sebastian is forced to clear his throat. He watches the book tumble to the floor with a dull thud, the pages splayed open by a parted spine.
"Seb?" Gold eyes grow wide as they stare at him in astonishment. "Please tell me you aren't a hallucination because I'm totally not ready to go to a psych ward."
"What would I say that a hallucination wouldn't?" he says calmly, placing the flowers on the window ledge and offering a smile to the boy that is making grabby hands at him.
"No idea. Now come here!"
He chuckles as Blaine twists on the bed with his arms impatiently spread. The sheet slips from his lap and Sebastian notices he's wearing shorts and the expanse of skin beneath them has a left leg surrounded by a metal brace. He can see a scar on the outside, running the length of his leg, which he may get an opportunity to examine later. Even with the brace, it's impossible to miss how much smaller it looks compared to his healthier, unbroken leg.
For now, he steps close enough to the boy that he can drape his arms around Blaine's shoulders and he feels the weight of Blaine's arms around his waist and what he suspects is the jut of a brace around his left arm against his back.
"You're here," Blaine breathes in amazement and Sebastian realises Blaine's hands are shaking as they fist into the back of his jersey.
"Surprise?"
"God yes." Blaine mutters, clinging tighter and pressing his face against Sebastian's shirt. "I've wanted to do this for months."
He lowers his head to rest against Blaine's hair, flattening curls beneath his cheek as his fingers rub gentle circles into the back of Blaine's neck. He can feel the other boy unwinding, the strong grip against his clothes beginning to loosen as he relaxes. He wonders when Blaine last had any sort of comfort or care or affection.
Blaine lets go after several long minutes of holding on, wiping at his cheeks and eyes which Sebastian deigns not to acknowledge. Blaine pats the space beside him and he settles on the edge, his legs dangling over the side, his toes brushing against the floor.
"Why didn't you tell me you were coming?" Blaine asks, looping his arm through Sebastian's and leaning into his bicep. It's strangely intimate but he finds he doesn't really mind.
"I was hoping it would make you happier if you didn't already know," he says, tracing his fingers lightly over Blaine's arm as the boy holds onto him.
"Well… Thank you."
"You're welcome."
He noses at Blaine's hair, the softest of kisses getting nestled among his curls like he does with bestowing affection on Lillian. They sit together like that for a while, gazing towards the window even though the blinds are only partially open. He doesn't want to question why he feels so content with Blaine, why everything that has made him antsy for weeks has slowed and fallen silent. It's the sort of peace he longed for late at night, when Clarington was snoring softly and Sebastian was filled with regret that he hadn't smuggled in a few bottles or joints to take it all away.
Blaine eventually has to lay down, his weakened muscles still gaining strength after so many months spent reclining and unable to move. Sebastian distantly wonders if Lillian will have to go through a rehab program to gain back her own muscles. It suggests she'll be healthy enough to one day leave the PICU and it remains too unlikely to fully consider, so he pushes it away.
"How's Lilian?" Blaine says when he's settled against Sebastian's shoulder, similar to his sister earlier. Their fingers thread together around Blaine's brace and he breathes calmly and deeply, free of his worries for the first time in ages.
So he tells the boy about his sister, then details what Dalton is like and the slow improvement in his grades as a result of a lot of patient guidance from Clarington. He rattles off stories about the food being better than what his mother could do and he mentions Mrs Fincher's unusual teaching methods (probably for him to still do the work) and his surprise that no one had commented on his glasses. He neglects to mention any details about his limited reading abilities or the mentor he's yet to secure. He doesn't say that he lacks friends or memberships to any of the school clubs.
Blaine listens and prompts him occasionally with questions, requesting more details for something Sebastian had skimmed over. He realises how relaxed he is as Blaine's hand stays held in his own and watches the honey-coloured eyes gain life and sparkle again. When he's all out of his own recollections to share, he encourages Blaine to talk about the progress he's making in the rehab program. He can tell Blaine's left hand is smaller beneath the brace and suspects the rest of his arm is similar to his leg. Blaine is clearly frustrated as he vents about his minimal progress despite his best – and most stubborn – efforts, shifting his braced leg as he explains how uncomfortable and painful it is to wear something so restrictive.
"You'll get there," Sebastian assures, squeezing Blaine's hand and rubbing his thumb against the knuckles. "And then you'll wonder why you struggled so much."
Blaine offers an unhappy smile. Sebastian presses his lips together in disappointment because he knows he's crappy at offering comfort. Instead, he decides to swap the hand that holds Blaine's so he can wrap his arm beneath Blaine's head to hold him closer. Something crinkles across the boy's brow before he exhales and the expression fades.
"I still can't believe you're here," Blaine murmurs, his nose pressing into Sebastian's shoulder as his eyes slowly close. He wonders if Blaine feels as content as him. He can't help observing the length of the eyelashes that curve against his cheek.
"It had been too long."
Blaine hums in agreement, low and sleepy. Sebastian watches his breathing start to lengthen and deepen and he wonders if Blaine has still been having nightmares that are wearing his sanity thin and whether that's contributing to his low mood. He doesn't know much about psychology but maybe Blaine has that condition people develop after they experience something too horrific to cope with. He doesn't want to try imagining what it must have been like for Blaine to be beat up so badly. He's never asked for any details. He's not sure he wants to.
He finds the remote for the TV hanging from the rail of the bed and turns it on with the volume so low he can barely hear a thing. He wants Blaine to get as much peaceful rest as possible and he no intention to leave Blaine until he absolutely has to. He suspects Blaine doesn't get visitors nearly as much as Lillian and it makes him wish he could visit more. It's easier to blame his parents for locking him up in a boarding school where he's restricted from trying to help those he truly cares about than to think about his own poor behaviour that had led to his abandonment.
A little before 1.30, an hour after an orderly had slipped in with a tray of sandwiches and red Jell-O and orange juice, Blaine stirs awake. His eyes blink several times as he tries to focus and the smile he offers Sebastian when his gaze finally focuses nearly makes his breathing stop.
"You're still here," Blaine whispers. He sounds so surprised that it pains Sebastian to think that Blaine's parents might sneak out when he falls asleep.
"I'll have to go soon, but I thought you deserved some rest," he replies, adjusting his arm because the tips of his fingers are numb and he'd worried that moving it would jostle Blaine awake.
Blaine whines rather pitifully, grasping at Sebastian's shirt with an enormous pout. "But I don't want you to leave!"
"You're clingier than my sister," Sebastian teases, a smile lifting his lips as he ruffles Blaine's curls. The boy scrunches his nose and reaches up to try – pointlessly – to smooth them down.
"When you put it that way, fine. Leave." Blaine huffs with a melodramatic roll of his eyes. Sebastian can't help but grin at the transformation that the other boy has undergone with a couple of hours of sleep and some comforting touch.
"You're sounding better."
Blaine shrugs, his protest against Sebastian's eventual departure wilting as he loosens his grip against Sebastian's shirt. He wonders if Blaine can feel the flipping sensation in his stomach when the boy's palm settles against his belly.
"It gets lonely in here."
He watches Blaine's eyes and the way they drift past him to the window. Maybe it's as close as he'll get to Blaine confirming his parents don't visit very often. He has a feeling if he asked, Blaine would say his parents were too busy to visit often. "Maybe you need to make some friends too?"
"They're all old," Blaine complains, wrinkling his nose again and his lower lip jutting out into an adorable pout. "You can't make friends when all the people here are in their eighties and recovering from broken hips."
He fights against the urge to laugh. "Wow, Blaine. I had no idea you were so ageist."
Blaine pokes his chest in a weak reprimand before cuddling close again. "It's nice having you here," he says, the confession sounding shy as it passes his lips.
Sebastian smiles and runs his fingers through Blaine's curls gently, enjoying the way that Blaine seems to melt against his body at the gesture. "You think you'll be okay without me?"
"I'm sure I'll manage to survive somehow," Blaine mumbles, but he's already beginning to sound forlorn and Sebastian really doesn't want to leave him.
Sebastian waits nearly half an hour before he knows he'll have to go to ensure he's on the bus back to Dalton. A good day doesn't need to be marred by a phone call to his parents about him leaving campus and not returning.
Blaine gives him another long, tight hug and Sebastian's not sure who needs it more. He lets the boy hold on and brushes the softest of kisses to Blaine's temple. The hug restores something within him, some of his internal fight and strength perhaps. He can only hope that it encourages Blaine's internal fight and strength to return as well. He really wants to see Blaine walk confidently and use his left arm. He wants to see Blaine smile freely and not be confined by the hospital rooms he keeps being moved to.
He presents Blaine with the flowers just before he leaves. Blaine's fingertips brush over the petals hesitantly and he gets another smile that makes his heart flutter in his chest. He doesn't want to try understanding it too much. He's not sure he'll like the answer.
He's fairly sure he's walking on clouds as he weaves through corridors towards his room. He's not even the slightest bit surprised when he sees Clarington at his desk, hunched over an exercise book with a highlighter in hand. He can't help the faint smirk that crosses his lips when he sees the smudge of green across Clarington's cheek.
"Hey. I wondered where you'd gone," Clarington greets when he glances up, his eyebrows drawing together as he assesses Sebastian taking off his coat and scarf and returning them to his small wardrobe.
"I was out," he says simply, a bit of a dumb smile on his face as he sits on his bed and begins to untie his shoelaces. He can still feel the press of Blaine and Lillian's hands in his, offering him comfort hours later.
"Out? Like, off-campus?"
He nods. The lack of further questioning prompts him to look over at Clarington, who has an eyebrow raised almost as high as his hairline.
"You look like you got some," Clarington observes, his eyes scanning Sebastian's face.
A laugh bubbles out of him before he can stop it and he shakes his head with amusement, depositing his shoes by his desk. "I'm not in a relationship, dude."
Clarington is still watching him. "You don't have to be in a relationship to screw someone."
He recalls the sophomore boys at public school and wonders how they're functioning without his dick to blow. It's definitely been a while and his right hand in the shower doesn't feel so good anymore. His awareness of sharing the space with a roommate probably has something to do with it.
"Why are you so interested?" he asks casually, placing his phone on the bedside table and staring at Clarington. "Wondering what a piece of male ass feels like?"
"I am not even remotely bicurious," Clarington snaps, but there's something in the flash of his eyes that makes Sebastian wonder if he can get beneath the boy's skin and they can renegotiate the terms of their living arrangements.
"Whatever you say," he says airily, waving his hand dismissively and settling down on his bed to try to get a nap in before dinner. He shuts his eyes but his mind is still ticking over. He needs to start sizing up some of these boys to see who might be interested in offering a quickie on the down-low. Clarington's planted a seed that might just blossom into a hunger he'd forgotten about.
~TBC~