Title: Creeping On A Stranger
Word Count: 9,107
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: Nothing more than usual.
It takes him a long few seconds when he wakes to figure out what it is that had woken him up.
His tongue is too large for his mouth and his throat feels dry. His eyes are so swollen they feel like they're about to bug out of his head. His bones feel infused with lead and his limbs must be disconnected from his spine because nothing cooperates with his command to move.
His stomach flips over and he feels like he might throw up.
"Seb?" Hunter's hand stills against his shoulder before moving to cup his face. "Come on, open your eyes for me."
He whines, fully aware of how pitiful he sounds, and attempts to tilt his head to burrow into the pillow. His brain throbs against the inner wall of his skull and he immediately regrets making the movement.
"Come on, Seb," Hunter repeats, coaxing his head from the fluffy support of the pillow and tracing a thumb over his cheekbone. It's far more comforting than he suspects he deserves. "Look at me."
It physically hurts when his eyebrows draw together across his forehead. His eyes partially open to see the blurry image of Hunter crouched by the side of his bed. He's barely able to make out the features of his roommate's face beyond the deep, dark frown and downturned lips. It doesn't make him feel any better.
"Are you sick?" Hunter asks, his hand moving to flatten against Sebastian's forehead and then his cheek. It reminds him of his mother checking his temperature when he was younger. "You look green."
"I-" His voice comes out as little more than a rasp, the sound crackling in his throat and the rest of his words sticking around Adam's apple. The itchy dryness of his eyes seems to be exacerbated by the wave of pain that smacks into his chest and makes him want to cry with pity for himself. "Water," he whispers.
Hunter nods and draws away, allowing Sebastian's eyes to slip shut again. He can hear the twist of a cap on a water bottle and the hiss of water in the bathroom and waits, too exhausted and pained to try moving. There's the faint pad of Hunter's socked feet on the carpet and then a side of the bed dips when Hunter sits down. He flinches when fingers creep along the back of his neck to encourage it to raise enough that he doesn't choke while swallowing on the water.
It's difficult to swallow but the water is heavenly as it dribbles into his mouth. He feels so dehydrated that his skin may as well be stretched taut around his muscles. The water tastes sweet, the temperature cool enough to soothe his throat as it slides down.
Hunter keeps the bottle steady, dripping water past his lips until he's had enough. When he leans away and slumps back to the pillows with his eyes struggling to open, Hunter removes the bottle. The bottle cap gets screwed on and he can a small rattle as it settles on the bedside table
"What did you take?" Hunter asks, his tone gentle but completely betraying his concern. His fingers scrape some of the hair from Sebastian's face as he sinks into the plush comfort of his pillow and mattress. "You took something, didn't you?"
"Fuck off," he mumbles, not wanting to hear the lecture right now. He's heard enough lectures from his parents when they'd noticed he hadn't been home in days. At the moment, he'd much prefer to sleep until his brain stops pounding with the strength of a techno club remix track booming from surround-sound speakers cranked to a decibel level that is horrifically damaging to every particle contained in a human body.
"I'm not leaving you now," Hunter mutters, his thumb smoothing circles against Sebastian's temple. It helps to unwind some of his tension, reducing the pounding in his head to a more manageable level. His stomach still roils with nausea but that's certainly not likely to fade in a hurry. He manages a quiet sigh as the exhaustion and residual alcohol in his system lull him back to sleep.
He's not sure how long he slept but he feels slightly more like a human being when he wakes again. Hunter had apparently pulled up his chair to sit beside the bed, a book in his hands like always. Sometimes Sebastian wondered if Hunter read so much to remind him how inept he is at reading. He isn't sure his roommate would be so cruel as to rub his face into his difficulty but then again….
"Ah, he's back among the land of the living," Hunter murmurs, lowering his book and plucking the water bottle from the bedside table. He holds it out, an expectant look on his face. "Drink."
His accepts the bottle with shaky hands, feeling embarrassed when he struggles to unscrew the cap without fumbling it. He barely manages to raise it to his lips without spilling it all over himself and it becomes far too much of an effort, almost an unfortunate ordeal, simply to swallow some water. He can sense Hunter's eyes on him and he has no desire to repeat any of this in a hurry.
He swallows until his belly is sloshing with all the water and lack of food to soak it up. Once he's successfully fought to get the lid screwed on again, he lets the bottle roll onto the bed because he can't be bothered handing it over to Hunter. He manages to count to six before Hunter huffs in frustration at his lack of eye contact.
"You're hungover, right?" Hunter says after a few more seconds, his irritation apparently overflowing. The book snaps shut and Hunter leans forward in his chair. "Do I even want to ask where the alcohol came from?"
"No," he whispers, unsure which question he's even answering. His eyes aren't really feeling as itchy as before but he doesn't particularly want to see Hunter's smug or concerned face so he shuts them and reclines into his pillows. As much as he didn't want to hear a lecture before, he also doesn't want to deal with an interrogation now.
"Not asking then," Hunter concedes and Sebastian wonders why he's being let off the hook so easily. It's evident Hunter knows enough about hangovers to recognise them, which isn't exactly common in most freshmen Sebastian's ever met. It makes his curiosity twitch. "Is it a common thing?"
Sebastian half-opens his eyes and tilts his head towards his roommate. He has to stifle a yawn behind his hand which makes his question somewhat garbled: "Why is it so important to know?"
Hunter stares at him for a moment before he shrugs and looks down at the book in his lap. His index finger trails over the swirly text on the cover. "You scared me this morning, Seb. I- I couldn't wake you."
Sebastian's fairly sure he feels the room pause for a moment, an odd feeling of everything slowing down to fractions of a second while his head speeds on. He can't hope to catch up so instead he just frowns dumbly at Hunter. "Huh?"
"You heard me," Hunter says, quiet and uncertain. He shakes his head and stands, returning his chair to the other side of the room and placing the book on its precise spot on his desk.
"No, I-" Sebastian attempts to protest, struggling to sit up when his muscles feel like jelly. He groans when the world spins and swims in front of him. Instinctively, his hand cradles his aching head and he closes his eyes when his stomach threatens to expel the minimal water he's swallowed.
The bed dips as Hunter sits on the edge again. His fingertips touch to Sebastian's forehead and cheek, gauging a temperature Sebastian knows he isn't running.
"I knew I shouldn't have left you last night," Hunter says, his tone laden with remorse and disappointment. It's annoying enough that Sebastian bats his roommate's hand away and squints at him, trying to discern what's truth and what's not.
"You couldn't…wake me?" he repeats slowly. He could imagine Hunter playing him, scaring him with facts Sebastian couldn't deny so he'd own up to his actions. But…Hunter doesn't look like he's trying to spin stories. He doesn't look like he's deliberately manufacturing something with the intention of screwing Sebastian over and…it makes him feel cold.
"No," Hunter says, picking up the water bottle and extending it again. His gaze flickers with undisguised worry and Sebastian doesn't think he's ever seen his roommate look like that around anyone before. "I thought you had slipped into a coma or something. I must have spent at least five minutes trying to wake you. It was about the point that I started panicking and thought I should call Wes when you started to stir."
Sebastian sips from the water bottle because he needs something to do other than think about what happened while he was out cold. His stomach twists and flips in sickening lurches. He can't maintain eye contact with Hunter so he ends up looking down at his hands. He notices faint ripples in the water and realises it's because he's trembling.
Hunter must notice the same thing only fractions of a second later.
"Hey." Hunter's hands clasp loosely around his own, steadying him but not really comforting him. He feels too much fear right now. "Do you want me to call Blaine?"
"He… He'll be so mad," he whispers, a bubble of self-loathing lodging in his throat which makes him feel ill. His teeth skim against his lower lip, an urgency to fidget with something nearly overwhelming. He wishes he could take the edge off with something.
"You had a…a big day yesterday," Hunter says, carefully removing the bottle cap from his hands so he can secure the bottle and avoid it spilling all over the bed. Gradually, he peels it from Sebastian's hand and places it on the bedside table again. "Being upset is understandable, you know? Blaine's important to you. Even a blind guy would be able to see how much he helped you yesterday."
He scrunches his eyes shut and drags his fingers through his hair. He can't explain to Hunter that getting drunk is a pretty normal thing for him. He can't explain that Blaine also knows he also gets high. He can't explain that he met Terry because then he'd have to say how he organised it. He can't explain that he failed to reach out to Therese as well. It's painful recalling how Blaine begged him him to take care of himself, how Blaine had continuously asked if he was okay, and Sebastian had lied and betrayed Blaine's trust by actively seeking Terry out. Surrounded by people who wanted to help, Sebastian had deliberately pushed them away with a couple of text messages. Sebastian could imagine Blaine being furious at what he'd done, ultimately disappointed at Sebastian's extreme level of weakness and lack of self-control.
"You don't have to keep doing this alone," Hunter murmurs, brushing a hand against his shoulder towards his neck.
He cringes and shrugs it away, feeling undeserving and unwanted. He curls in on himself, folding his knees towards his chest and ignoring the tears that bead in the corners of his eyes. "Just because I… Just because you were there yesterday doesn't mean we're…friends or anything," he says, looking towards his desk briefly. He wishes he could kick Hunter out and grab the bottle between his hands so he can drink until he's numb again. Not being able to feel seemed better than the fear and anger and hurt which was brewing in his veins. "You don't know me."
"Sebastian, I-"
"Go away, Clarington," he snaps, his defensiveness rising the longer his emotions get bombarded with the urge to flee. He can feel his heart skipping beats, fairly sure the anxiety that always simmers beneath the surface has exploded into an inferno beneath his skin. He's afraid of what he could do. He's lost as to what he should say. He thinks that getting up would probably just lead to throwing up but he really, really needs some space because the crawling across his skin is getting stronger by the second. "I don't need your help."
"No, you don't want it," Hunter corrects, moving off the bed and looking down at him. It's not cold but it's not quite pity either. Hunter looks like he wants to say so much but is working hard to ensure he says the right thing and nothing about that is comforting. "You don't want to admit you need help but letting it consume you won't solve anything. Blaine needs you, your sister ne-"
"Don't bring her into this." He sways to his feet in front of Hunter, not fully cognizant of the fact he's moved until his stomach gives another sickening twist. "Don't," he demands, because using Lillian as ammunition in a trip down Guilt Lane would just make him feel even worse. It always has in the past.
He can feel terror trickling down his spine when he recalls the way she'd looked yesterday. He can't escape the desperation he'd felt while waiting hours and hours during her surgery. His knees threaten to buckle beneath him, rendered weak by panic and the after-effects of too much alcohol.
"Seb-"
"Get out," he says, gritting his teeth when another sickening wave of nausea rolls through him. He's starting to suspect it's only a matter of time before he throws up. "Leave me alone."
"So you can get drunk again?" Hunter retorts, glaring down the slightest fraction of an inch at him. He's reminded of that old urge to break Hunter's nose again. "Not likely."
Sebastian shoves him but he loses his balance. It leaves him toppling backwards onto the bed and he whimpers when his brain rattles around in his skull. His stomach certainly protests the actions as well. He feels awful.
"I know what you're doing," Hunter says calmly, his face doing that weird neutralising thing where it looks like he doesn't have any emotions. "You want everyone to give up on you like you're convinced your parents have done. You want everyone to give up on you because you believe that's all you deserve. You think your sister will hate you because of what you do and you think Blaine will want nothing to do with you and you think I'm easy to get rid of because sometimes I suck at dealing with people in my space and since no one's proved to you that you're worth sticking around for, you've just begun decided that's the truth."
Sebastian can feel some of his defences crumbling so he does the incredibly mature thing of rolling over and hiding his face beneath the pillow. "Shut up," Sebastian grunts, the words muffled by the fabric across his mouth. His emotions are leaping all over the place. He doesn't want to listen to this.
"You think you've got it all figured out, don't you? You think that drinking until you forget what upsets you will make it hurt less but it doesn't," Hunter continues and Sebastian tries to manoeuvre the pillow until his roommate's words are distorted. "You think you're a pariah to your parents and therefore no one else will care about you."
He'll never admit that Hunter's words hit too close to home. He'll never interject with his own comments to correct what his roommate says. He feels like doing so would basically expose his numerous vulnerabilities to another person and he's not ready for that. It's clear Hunter already has him figured out – far too accurately for Sebastian's tastes.
"I get it," Hunter says, his voice softening and making it hard for Sebastian to hear him through the pillow. "My father's a strict military man. I'm a disappointment because I hated military school so he sent me halfway across the country so he didn't have to see me. My first months here were restless but I spent some time in New York over the winter break and then you showed up and…"
Sebastian peeks out from beneath the pillow to see Hunter shrug, his gaze distant as he looks away from where Sebastian is huddled. He doesn't like that he feels the slightest pang of sympathy for the other boy. He doesn't want to sympathise with Hunter over anything because then it will start to meant they're friends and no one has stuck around long after declaring him a friend.
"Giving you space will only reinforce your beliefs that no one gives a shit," Hunter says, rising from Sebastian's bed to slump on his own. Sebastian peers at his roommate, his fingers anxiously fiddling with the seam of the pillowcase. "So I'm going to be an obnoxious mosquito that annoys the hell out of you until you start to realise that you can try to push me away but I'm still going to be here. And if you called Blaine, he'd answer. You don't have to be alone, Sebastian."
Sebastian watches Hunter for a while from beneath the pillow, turning over the words and wondering what, if anything, he should say in response. There's something about Hunter that nags at him. There's something he doesn't entirely understand but he wants to know, wants to ask, if only he wasn't so afraid.
In the end, he secures his words and stays silent.
There's been too much said by Hunter and he's still too hungover to properly process any of it. Saying anything could just make everything worse.
His phone buzzes on the bedside table.
At first he ignores it. He knows the short buzz means a text message and unearthing his face from beneath the pillow and having to glimpse Hunter, who hasn't left the bed for hours, isn't something he feels like dealing with. He has the distinct impression that he's being babysat and it leaves him grouchy. He's more likely to want to rip off Hunter's head when he gets grouchy.
When his phone buzzes more insistently, he stifles a grunt, rolls over to snatch it from the bedside table and huddles back under the blankets.
"Hello?"
"Hey you." Blaine seems uncertain in his greeting after Sebastian's snappish tone. Sebastian tugs the blankets higher over his head as if it will somehow shield him from Hunter's watchful gaze and hide him from Blaine's gentle care. "How are you?"
It's not surprising that the question is one of the first things out of Blaine's mouth, but it causes guilt to gnaw a painful hole in his gut as he debates what to tell Blaine. He has no doubt that Hunter is paying close attention to whatever he'll say, which will probably be more than whatever he's been reading for the past few hours. The last thing he needs is Hunter speaking up and rattling off his transgressions to Blaine about the night before. If Blaine knew he'd gotten drunk again, he's pretty sure Blaine would walk here from the hospital and rip off a leg. Blaine's smart enough to put the pieces together and realise his 'walk' had been about hooking him up with fresh supplies. He fully expects he'd get berated.
"Sebastian?"
"Blaine, I-" He bites his lip and curls up tighter, feeling somewhat overheated at the blankets swaddling him but desperate to keep the hushed conversation from his roommate's incessant nosiness. "Why are we friends?"
He listens carefully to the faint hitch in Blaine's breathing and lets his eyes close. He can imagine Blaine's eyes getting watery, his lower lip trembling. It's not like he wants to sever the friendship but he's just so lost that he needs the reassurance.
"Why would you ask that?" Blaine whispers, his voice clearly shaking.
"Just-" He can feel the prickle of tears and the skip in his heartbeat. Anxiety is twisting insistently through his stomach, making him struggle not to break down. He doesn't want to start crying when Hunter is still lurking in the room. He doesn't want Hunter bundling him into being held again. "I don't understand what I… I'm not a good person, you know? Like there'll come a point that all the fun and games just… And then I- And you've been through enough in the past months. Why would you want to…to keep being friends with me?"
The silence that invades the conversation seeps into his bones and nestles into a chamber of his heart. It's the worst sort of agony, a hollowness that throbs with each beat and spreads through his veins. He can feel a thin stream of tears trickling from his eyes. He tries to ignore them.
"Because I care about you," Blaine says quietly and slowly, perhaps evidence of carefully choosing his words to have the least damaging impact on his soul. It does little to allay the tears coursing down his cheeks. "You've given me courage and hope these past months, you've given me the strength so I can keep going. I don't want to let that go."
"But why-"
"You're the only friend I have, Sebastian," Blaine interrupts, his voice pained and making Sebastian's eyes burn more. Blaine is a better person than him by far and he'll never know what he did to deserve someone like this in his life after all the horrible things he's done. He'll never understand why Blaine didn't freak out and kick him from the PICU room after stirring awake. He'll never understand why Blaine kept him around. "And friends forgive friends for the stupid shit they do and friends support friends when they're going through a rough time and friends don't just quit when crap happens. I'm your friend because I want you to be my friend, because I like you and I care about you and I want you to be okay." Blaine pauses and Sebastian is pretty sure he hears a faint sniffle, but maybe it's just his imagination. He hopes it's his imagination. "I'd like to think you feel the same way, but…"
The way Blaine's words trail away make his fears clear. Sebastian swallows around the lump in his throat that seems to radiate hurt all the way down to his toes. He's so capable of screwing everything up and he feels so…so unworthy of Blaine's warmth touching his life.
"Of course I do. I just…" He exhales softly in an attempt to avoid the shakiness of his breathing filter over the line. He's almost certain there's a sniffle that isn't his and it breaks his heart. "I've just made so many mistakes and my parents want nothing to do with me and-"
"I'm nothing like your parents," Blaine says, somehow managing to sound both gentle and firm at the same time. "I'm nothing like them and I never will be. You're allowed to screw up, Sebastian. Just like me. I've made mistakes too, but you don't hate me for them, right?"
"No, but-"
"Then that's all that matters," Blaine continues and Sebastian lowers his head beneath the pillow, struggling with the effort it's taking to stifle his cries. Hunter has to know that he's falling apart over here by now. "Talk to me, Seb. What's wrong?"
Blaine's pitiful plea makes his eyes close. His fingers tremble and he clings tighter to the phone, wishing he could curl up against Blaine's chest again and sob until it didn't hurt anymore. He wants Blaine's fingers looping through his hair, rubbing circles into the back of his neck. He wants Blaine's steady breathing beneath his ear, the rhythmic thumping of his heart something that soothes his anxiety.
He inhales and flinches at the pain that burns his eyes. "I don't want to keep being this person," he whimpers, fisting the edge of the blanket between his hands to hold it closer to his body.
"What sort of person is that?" Blaine asks, patience bleeding into his voice. He wonders how Blaine manages to slip between an insecure fourteen-year-old and a boy wise beyond his years so easily. Sebastian's confidence is capable of crumbling at a moment's notice.
"I- One who…who can't cope with anything going wrong. I- I'm only fifteen and I'm… I do all the wrong things to cope and…I…"
Hunter had he was so out of it this morning that he couldn't be woken up. It was clear that he'd gotten terribly intoxicated the night before with his rapid swallowing. It was clear the alcohol had seeped into his body long after he'd fallen asleep. He'd been alone and anything could have happened to him. He could have choked on his vomit. He could have rolled over and suffocated. He could be causing major damage to his body. His sister has a second chance at living and maybe he's ruining his opportunity to be there with her for it.
His breath rushes out of him as he chokes on fear.
"I'm scared, B," he admits, lowering his head with the shame that flashes across his cheeks.
"Scared about Lillian?"
"No, just… I started drinking when I was thirteen. It's only been two years but it…it's only getting worse and…and I-" He doesn't know where he's going with this. He's too afraid to say it all out loud, whatever 'this' is anyway. Is he afraid of death? Not particularly. He'd been faced with his mortality for years in light of Lillian's. But, he supposes, everyone is afraid of death in some capacity, right?
Blaine's silence stretches long enough to wrap around the world a few times. "Would you be into like…therapy or counselling or whatever? Going to AA meetings?"
"I'm not an alcoholic," he whispers, but it doesn't sound convincing to him anymore. He doubts Blaine is convinced either. He doubts Therese was yesterday. He doubts Hunter was earlier. There are people around him more aware of the severity of his problems than he is.
"I've had a lot of counselling since I woke up," Blaine says, sounding calm and relaxed. It doesn't surprise Sebastian to know Blaine has been receiving help considering the extent of Blaine's injuries and the cause of them. He's always felt like Blaine was handling everything better than most people. He is surprised, however, by the fact he hadn't about the counselling earlier. Perhaps he'd just stayed wilfully ignorant by not asking because he was selfish. Perhaps he just hadn't wanted to know too much on top of everything else.
"I know that getting rid of your demons isn't as easy as waking up one morning and they're all gone," Blaine continues and it makes Sebastian wonder what Blaine's demons are. "I've learned that it's a process and I know you have a history far more tangled than I could try to unravel. I'm not saying stop talking to me, just…It's okay to allow other people to help too, Seb. People with expertise and experience who want to see you get better just as much as I do."
Sebastian thinks about Therese's number being programmed into his phone. He could text her, ask her for help. She'd have names, numbers, locations, a whole range of things if he'd just concede there's an issue and it's growing beyond his control.
But acknowledging a problem, reaching out and accepting help go completely against his nature. He's spent four years barricading himself against the intrusion of other people into his life.
"You don't have to deal with this on your own, Seb," Blaine murmurs.
It takes a moment for the words to echo and morph into Hunter saying the same thing earlier. He twitches with anxiety, wondering if it's a common thing to say to someone who's struggling or whether Hunter and Blaine are now in contact with each other. He wonders if they're passing messages back and forth about his welfare, comparing notes on how he's doing and what's going on. Maybe Blaine has been inducted into a friendship with Hunter, where he's become a replacement for Wes and Hunter has been sprawled on his bed, texting Blaine all day about how Sebastian is doing.
The jealousy that unfurls in his chest is as sickening as it is frightening.
He doesn't want to share Blaine with Hunter.
He doesn't want his trust betrayed.
"Seb?" Blaine prompts when he's evidently been silent too long.
Blaine had assured him that his secrets wouldn't be handed out to Hunter that freely. He tries to believe that's true.
"I just don't know what to do anymore, Blaine," he mumbles, his toes fidgeting beneath the blankets as he sighs deeply.
"Then let those of us around you, those of us you trust, help you to heal and believe in yourself," Blaine says, so confident that Sebastian almost wants to believe it's possible. It all sounds so easy, so achievable, when Blaine says it. Whenever Sebastian thinks it, he just feels like a lunatic. "We can all see the potential you contain, Seb. You just haven't realised it yet."
He snorts at the idea he has anything potential about him, although he eventually thinks that he could have the potential for being a private school boy who gets expelled. He could have the potential for being a high school drop-out (or kick out) who becomes a drug addict and alcoholic. He could have the potential for an early death fuelled by his twin vices of alcohol and marijuana, and maybe more. He definitely has plenty of that potential.
"You're an incredibly caring older brother to Lillian," Blaine explains, as earnest as ever and making Sebastian feel guilty that he doesn't believe it. "You're an amazing friend to me, Seb. You have plenty of potential to do anything you want."
It's a nice thought, one that might have warmed his heart if it hadn't been cold for so long. Perhaps it's a good thing he hadn't died and his heart given to Lillian. It would just be this frozen lump of blackness that would never be capable of restarting.
He opens his mouth but then hesitates, unsure if he should say what's on his mind. Maybe Blaine hears the catch in his breathing.
"Seb?"
"I don't want to be like this," he says quickly, not sure exactly what it means at this point but there, he'd said it. Does he get a cookie now or something?
"Then let us help," Blaine repeats, but Sebastian knows it won't be that easy.
The best, and worst, part about James knowing about his visit to the hospital is that he cuts Sebastian a lot of slack about turning up to classes. He's not sure he could concentrate on painting a self-portrait or scrawling scraps of an essay anyway, so the leniency he receives which enables him to stay huddled up in his bedroom and only escape for brief snatches of food when the dining hall is deserted is a luxury he wants to hold onto forever.
There is, of course, a downside.
Hunter gets the same leniency.
He thinks James probably expects Hunter to keep him up-to-date with the demands of his school work. He thinks James probably expects Hunter is helping him cope by offering him support and friendship, walking him through the problems he has in Maths or Biology until it all unravels and makes sense before his eyes.
The reality is that Hunter spends the vast majority of his time engaging in private study at his desk or in bed, consuming a range of novels and working through assigned pages in his textbooks. Occasionally he attempts to draw Sebastian into a conversation, tries to get him to explain how he feels or what he wants, but if Sebastian has learned anything from living with his parents it's how to keep his mouth shut. He doesn't want anything he says to turn into a frenzied need for learning more. As a result, he's become entirely capable of remaining silent, incinerating the olive branches Hunter keeps extending in the interests of keeping his secrets to himself.
On his third day in self-imposed exile, Wes stops by and sits on Hunter's bed. They have a chirpy chat he suspects is designed to make him feel excluded and unwelcome. It irritates him so badly that he sticks in his earbuds, jams up the volume on his phone, and hides his head beneath the pillow. When he eventually emerges, Wes has left and Hunter is curled up on the bed with another novel in his hands. Sebastian's pretty sure his roommate gets through books faster than the average teenage boy gets through a box of tissues.
On day four, he and Blaine exchange bland text messages where he admits he's stayed sober but hasn't left his room. Blaine expresses his concern but doesn't push the issue, which Sebastian is grateful about. He isn't sure he's in the mood to be told what to do or how to react or whether he should do something else to cope. Lillian's alive and she should be okay, more okay than she's been in years, but he's not sure he's going through this cycle of grief because of Lillian.
It's not until some ungodly hour that night when it suddenly makes sense.
The grief he feels isn't because of Lillian. He's already grieved about her for years and she's on the mend anyway. He's not struggling with the potential loss of her.
He's actually dealing with the very painful, very real, rejection by his parents. For months, he's been denying the extent of their distance in his life. He'd spent months believing – maybe pretending – they were just wrapped up in Lillian's ailing health. Regardless of how coherent Lillian had seemed during his brief visits, her continued residency in the PICU was evidence enough that she hadn't really made progress. Clearly their parents would want to spend as much time with her as possible and so a phone call, a text, from either of them the past few months would just be this afterthought, this thing they'd keep meaning to do but forget about all the time.
And then he'd had to go to the hospital.
Encountering his father had exposed the familial relationship between them which wasn't just frosty, but downright frozen solid. His father loathed him for reasons Sebastian couldn't fathom, Therese revealed that his mother obsessed over Lillian and offered little thought to him…
It's why late that night, when Hunter snuffles his quiet snores on the other side of the room, that Sebastian allows himself to silently cry with his face pressed into the pillow in an attempt to stifle any occasional sounds. He cries because he's so lonely at Dalton, regardless of his friendship with Blaine and Hunter who is a…sort-of friend. He cries because he's scared of the summer holidays and what will happen and where he'll go. He cries because he's angry at himself for getting mixed up with Terry and Aiden and Mitch and John, despite how much their methods have kept him sane over the years. He cries because he's sick with self-hatred at liking boys when he should like girls. He cries because he's terrified about what his parents will do to him when they find out. He cries because he's hurt, shattered, at what his parents have done in the months since they threw him out and left him to fend for himself. He cries because it finally dawns on him that he's fifteen-years-old and he lacks parents who care about him.
He eventually cries himself to sleep because he's too exhausted to keep feeling all the muddled feelings and he's completely drained of tears.
He stirs at Hunter moving around the room before quietly closing the bathroom door to take a shower. He keeps his eyes closed and barely moves beneath the blankets except to reposition one of his arms that has gone dead where it's tucked under the pillow. He listens to the whistle and hiss of the pipes, the faint splatter of water on the tiles, and gradually feels the pain in the centre of his chest expand to the point of breaking his sternum. He senses his emotions spilling over the bed, seeping into the mattress, blackening the air around him. His eyes prickle with tears he won't shed because his eyes already ache enough from the crying in the middle of the night.
When he hears the water shut off in the bathroom, he does his best to fake being asleep. He can count the seconds it would take Hunter to put on his clothes before the door opens and his hushed footsteps move across the carpet again. He can imagine Hunter placing his pyjamas into the drawer and discarding his underwear and socks into the laundry hamper. He can imagine Hunter arranging his schoolbag and the click of his shoes being slid on. He can imagine Hunter stooping to tie his shoelaces and standing to adjust his collar, tie and blazer lapels.
He does his best to keep inhaling and exhaling with painful evenness.
He figures Hunter will go to breakfast, put in an appearance, and return later to continue his babysitting duties since Sebastian has absolutely no interest in resuming his attendance at class today. He's pretty sure he has no interest in attending classes ever again and he starts wondering if it's possible to drop out. Can he run away from Dalton? Can he escape the state? Can he free himself from his parents due to their disinterest in his life? He starts turning the idea over in his head, wondering how he could convince Blaine to go with him, when there's an almost imperceptible knock at the door.
He supposes it's Wes so he stays motionless, continuing his ruse of sleeping, as he listens to his roommate's measured steps across the room until there's the clunk of the lock and the squeak of the handle as it opens.
"Good morning, Mister Clarington."
Oh shit.
"Good morning, Sir," Hunter greets, his tone entirely too pleasant. Sebastian fights very hard not to scrunch his eyes shut in distaste. Instead, he grits his teeth together so hard he fears they might crack.
"I presume you know why I'm here."
"I can make some educated guesses, Sir."
He's going to strangle Hunter later. Or maybe cover his face with a pillow while he sleeps. His roommate is too congenial and he loathes it.
"Shall I…?"
"If you wouldn't mind."
He forces himself to count to four, in and out and pause, repeat over and over, as he hears the door close and the faint sounds of shoes on carpet moving in a rhythm that lacks his roommate's rigidity. He's determined to pretend that he's-
"You can stop pretending to sleep now, Sebastian," James says and Sebastian can't help the involuntary scowl that crosses his face. James snorts and he hears the drag of his chair from beneath his desk. He doesn't want to open his eyes and see the principal staring at him but he also wasn't raised so poorly that he'd be horrifically rude and turn his back on someone with so much power.
With a frustrated sigh, he opens his eyes and blinks slowly at the principal.
Wilson James sits in a plain charcoal grey suit with an emerald green tie that reminds him of Lillian's eyes on a clear summer's day. His face is as calm and impassive as always and the blankness of the principal's expression is the reminder he needed about why this man infuriates him so much. He's just like Hunter in a lot of ways.
"Good morning," James says with an overly cheerful grin.
Sebastian doesn't offer anything in return. He doesn't even manage a weak smile of acknowledgement. He realises, in a moment of clarity that is almost alarming, that he feels thoroughly devoid of anything that would pass as civility or normal.
"Not a morning person, I see," James comments, folding one leg over the other and propping his hands in front of him. "Not a social person either."
Sebastian's turns his attention away from the principal to a random spot on the other side of the room. He doesn't have to explain his emotions to someone that doesn't understand. He doesn't have to explain his emotions to someone who will just spread his feelings to the other teachers until they treat him with hesitant kid gloves again. Moving schools had been all about trying get away from that.
"Contrary to what you might believe, Sebastian, I am only trying to offer assistance," James says, not sounding particularly affected by Sebastian's avoidance of eye contact. Sebastian supposes a principal probably gets it all the time. "Would it interest you more if I led with knowledge of your sister's health?"
Sebastian can't stop the stiffening of his muscles at the words. As annoyed as he is by the bait he's so willing to fall for, he can't deny that yes, he's interested. He forces himself to sit up and look more capable, more controlled. He doesn't want to look like some sickly invalid who is bedridden in front of James because what if he calls Sebastian's parents?
And yet for days, he's avoided contacting the hospital, Therese or his parents to find out about Lillian's recovery. How would he react if Lillian wasn't improving? What would he do if he couldn't see her? What happened if her body rejected the transplant? Her old one had been taken out and…given to someone else? Discarded? If she rejected the new one, did that mean she'd just…die?
"How did you get information on her?" he eventually asks, suspicion tickling at his building anxiety.
"I'm a school headmaster," James explains with a shrug that looks too casual. There's a mischievous smile on his face that contrasts with the strict and stern than Sebastian expects he should be wearing. "To be perfectly honest with you, I fear I have access to too much information I'd rather never know."
Sebastian can only imagine the file that would exist on him: his absenteeism, his truancy, his use of alcohol and weed, his difficulty completing work, his outright refusal to do anything. He wonders what James knows about someone like Hunter, or Wes, or others at the school.
Despite how much he wishes he could be distracted by his errant thoughts, James has dangled the only thing he's likely to be interested in right in front of his face. Any consideration he has comes right back to James knowing information about Lillian.
He's loathe to admit that there's no way he can ignore it.
"What do you know about Lillian?"
James looks jovial that Sebastian fell for it. He wonders if the lure is snagged so far down his throat that he'll never get it out.
"She's in the cardiac intensive care unit in a stable condition," James says, his fingers knitting together in his lap. "I've heard she will be taken off sedation in the next few days but signs have looked promising that her body is accepting the organ and her overall circulation and organ health are improving."
Sebastian can feel his hands start shaking in his lap as James talks. He thinks it's peculiar mix of fear and relief that ripples through his body. As long as James is telling the truth, it's the best news Lillian could hope to have at this stage.
"By the end of next week, she may be moved from the intensive care to the general cardiac ward where she will spend a couple of weeks having her new heart continuously monitored, before spending some time in the paediatric ward to improve her overall health and wellbeing," James continues as he tilts his head to the side. "Sebastian?"
James leans far enough forward in the chair that he can reach out a hand to touch Sebastian's knee. It jolts him into having some sort of awareness of his surroundings and his own reactions to the news.
His hands are shaking badly enough that he probably looks like he's having some sort of epileptic fit.
"That… That's a relief to hear, Sir," he croaks, rubbing his hands against his face in an attempt to reduce the urge to cry. He doesn't want to add more fuel to the file James might have on him.
"It's okay to feel overwhelmed by the news, Sebastian," James says, squeezing his knee through the blankets before drawing away. "I'm not sure I would handle news about my sister very well if she had been as sick as yours for as long. I imagine the stress on you has been immense."
Sebastian fights down the frown that is threatening to cross his face and shrugs. "It's been harder for our parents." The words leave a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. He can't believe that-
"You don't need to explain how they feel or defend them to me," James says, stealing some of Sebastian's discomfort and indignation right from his thoughts. He's so surprised that he glances up at the principal. "Your parents are entitled to feel and react in their own way, as are you. How do you feel knowing your sister is recovering?"
He blinks at James before his eyes drop to his hands again. "Just relieved she doesn't have to suffer anymore," he murmurs, figuring he would have said the same thing if Lillian's surgery had failed and she had died. He's never felt like he has any right to feel upset by what happens to her. She's his parents' daughter so of course his parents are upset. The danger and surgeries all affect her most directly, so she has every right to be unhappy and stressed.
And Sebastian?
Sebastian's just her brother that cares for her, loves her, but can't do anything practical to offer assistance nor is he the one being operated on. How he feels, or wants to feel, has always been ignored.
"You understand the consequences of organ transplantation?" James says and it reminds Sebastian a little of Therese explaining what he could expect to see when he visited Lillian after her surgery.
"Anti-rejection meds. Increased consequences of getting even a mild cold. Being careful with her until she heals." He scrapes his fingers through his hair. "But they're Lillian's pills to take. It's nothing different to the meds she's been on for years already. If it means she lives then it sounds better than seeing her unconscious in the hospital or…or knowing she's…"
The word hangs in the air but he can't speak it, even now, even with the risk reduced a fraction. James seems to understand anyway.
"You are a rather exceptional young man," James muses, settling into the chair.
He feels totally inept and stupid when he simply squawks, "Huh?"
"How many other boys your age are there at this school with the life experience, the wisdom, the resilience, that you do after going through so much?"
He stares at James like he's lost his mind. Maybe he has. Maybe brain transplants have become a thing in the days since he last ventured forth to interact with the outside world.
"I've done what I had to do to-"
"You are an exceptional young man," James repeats with an admonishing rise of his eyebrows which makes Sebastian stop his attempt at protesting the statement. "What you have felt, what you have overcome, what you have endured, will make you a capable leader and a compassionate human being. Your circumstances haven't been ideal, don't get me wrong, but you have done well to make it this far."
James has definitely lost his mind.
"Now, I have granted you leave this week to adjust to your circumstances and handle your grief but I am conscious that exams are a couple of weeks away and I do not wish the gaps in your knowledge to increase."
Sebastian wants to groan at the thought of finals. He doesn't remember the last time he turned up to an exam week. He doesn't even remember the last time he really sat down at an exam table for an extended period of time with a pen in his hand and wrote something meaningful.
"I have asked your teachers to modify your examinations to ensure they are not unfairly testing you on content you were not present to learn during your first semester of freshman year. However, I am still expecting you to do your best."
Sebastian wrinkles his nose. He has no idea how he's meant to do exams. Exams mean a lot of reading and writing, which he's begun to realise aren't to the standard they should be. Whether that's his fault, a consequence of his bad habits or his terrible attendance at public school the past years is something he doesn't like thinking about very much.
He'll deal with all of that later.
For now, he turns his attention towards something that has been concerning him for the past few days and swelled beyond massive proportions last night when he began to accept the extent of his parents' disinterest.
"What will happen to me when…when it's summer holidays?"
James' eyebrows dip into a frown. "What do you mean?"
Sebastian looks down at his hands again, drawing his lower lip between his teeth. He doesn't want to alert anyone to the problems he's facing. Therese seemed to already know after being a silent witness to his mother's demeanour for a while, but what if someone with some authority, like a school principal, found out? Would child services get called? Would he end up in the foster system?
"Sebastian?" James prompts.
"Just…" He pauses and sighs, struggling to know the appropriate way to phrase his predicament. "If I didn't want to go home for the summer and if…if there are things stopping me from going then…what happens?"
The bewildered expression on James' face shifts to something amused. "So you don't wish to return to a household where you are the first child but the last thing your parents on your parents' minds?"
He looks up at the principal in surprise and alarm and maybe, maybe just a little bit, hurt. It seems like a pretty callous assessment of his situation. "How did you-"
"I interview a lot of prospective students, Sebastian. I also meet a lot of parents."
James gives a vague shrug, a loose wave of his hand. Sebastian thinks he understands the implications, the things the principal isn't saying – he's met many people and the lack of care in Sebastian's parents was obvious.
"If returning home is unsuitable, then alternative arrangements can be made. You could stay with a family friend for instance, or a friend from school," James says, looking relaxed in the chair as he regards Sebastian's expression. "The school also allows for a limited number of students to board on campus during the holidays. Some students have parents interstate or overseas so returning home is a challenge we avoid imposing by offering them to stay in a familiar environment."
Sebastian digests James' words slowly. He could stay with a family friend but…who would that be? The only person that comes to mind is Therese. He has zero interest in staying with Hunter or his family. He isn't sure he'd be welcome at Blaine's because he's not entirely sure Blaine's parents are much more supportive than his own.
Or he could stay at school.
He wonders what sort of message that would send to others at the school, to his parents, to Lillian. A few know he lives on the other side of town so if they found out he was staying at school during the summer because he doesn't feel welcome in his own house, his own room, what does that say about his family?
But – he tries to find the positive before the negative possibilities drown him whole – he has some options for the summer holidays. He won't be thrown out of Dalton to return to his parents if he doesn't want to, if he doesn't feel able to. It would probably mean paperwork, and discussions, and interviews, and probably sitting in the same room as his parents and explaining why he's made the decision – although maybe he won't, maybe they'll just understand it and be grateful he's not imposing on their lives for a few months – but at least the options are there. He'll have to figure out how to see Lillian more because he thinks she should be out of the hospital by then but he suspects it's just his parents he has to deal with, and considering their minimal regard for his feelings, he's not sure he has much regard for theirs.
"Now then," James clasps his hands together, his eyes narrowing, "since I expect you to be completing your exams to the best of your abilities, it means you need to improve your attendance to said classes to gain knowledge of the requisite content and improve your socialisation."
Sebastian is pretty sure he's blinking rapidly, trying to understand what the principal has just said. There were far too many complicated sentences that weren't necessary for his brain which is still churning through the options for his summer holidays.
"It means you need to stop avoiding people and start going to your classes more," James says and Sebastian sighs, wishing he knew a way to talk himself out of it. Emerging from his room to see other boys who might want to stare at him, gawp and gape, held absolutely no appeal. He couldn't care less about balancing chemical equations or the influence of To Kill A Mockingbird on American society.
"Do I have to?" he says, well-aware of how whiny he sounds. He'd do anything to get out of going back to classes.
James chuckles and rises from his seat, a hand briefly brushing against Sebastian's shoulder. "The longer you spend trying to hide, Mister Smythe, makes the pain you're drowning in worse when many people would offer their assistance."
He tries not to think about Therese, Blaine, Hunter, Wes, Fincher, even James he supposes, offering him the world which he refuses to take. He looks at his hands, waiting for the principal to leave, waiting to hear the soft click of the door closing.
When it does, he peeks up to check James had actually gone before huddling beneath the blankets again. He draws the fabric to his neck as protection from a world he doesn't feel like facing just yet and tries to keep his breathing regulated.
~TBC~