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sadaboutniall · 4 years

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something about you;

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Twenty Seven. November, 2017.

‘Are you sure you think I look okay?’ Isla’s smoothing her hands over the front of her trousers, eyes meeting Niall’s in the mirror. He can see her hands trembling slightly, an anxious look in her eyes.

Maybe he’d been naive to think that taking Isla to the AMAs would be smooth sailing. He half thought that the glitter and glitz of Hollywood would outshine her anxiety, that she would realize that, although the things here are pretty and expensive, the people are no different, and she fits right in. He’d thought she’d feel confident and sexy with him showing her off in front of everyone else tonight—not nervous and shaky and unsure of her worth.

‘You’re beautiful,’ he tells her, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind, letting one hand travel up to rest on the skin of her belly. After making Niall’s suit, Paul Smith had offered to make Isla a dress as well, and Niall’d joined in on the meetings, flipping through pages of fabric samples and silhouette sketches with Isla, Ellie, and Paul. At the end of it all, though, Isla’d settled on a custom suit instead: tight, curve hugging trousers and a matching blazer, low cut enough to expose an intricate, lace bralette and more than a little bit of skin. He couldn’t keep his hands off her the first time he saw it, and he doesn’t feel any different now. He rests his chin on her shoulders and keeps his eyes locked on hers in the mirror. ‘Everyone’s going to love you.’

Isla sighs shakily, her hands coming up to cover Niall’s, to entwine her fingers with his. ‘Sorry,’ she says. ‘I know it’s not about me tonight, I shouldn’t be—’

‘It’s always about you,’ he drops a kiss to her neck. ‘You feeling comfortable is more important to me than any awards show.’

‘Don’t be an eejit,’ says Isla quietly, but there’s a small smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. Niall feels triumphant, heart soaring in his chest.

He walks the carpet alone. They’d agreed that they’re not ready for any kind of public appearances just yet—that what they have is special, precious, and shouldn’t belong to anyone other than the two of them. Still, he lets his mind wander a little as he poses, thinks about what it would be like to smile for the cameras with Isla on his arm, his hand resting on her waist, the look in his eyes showing the entire world how lucky he is to call himself hers. For all Niall values keeping his private life private, he’s been feeling an itch lately, a pull to make sure every single stranger knows how much he loves Isla.

It started with Colm’s comment and Isla’s confession, Niall knows that. But he doesn’t think that makes it any less genuine, his desire to start bringing her to more work events, to ease her into his world. It’s a mad, mad place, but he doesn’t want to be in it without Isla, and it makes his stomach churn to think she ever felt excluded. So, slowly but surely he’s been bringing her along where appropriate, introducing her to more and more of the people he works with. But tonight feels like a test of its own, her very first big event, coupled with her first ever trip to LA.

With Tara by his side, Niall stands for quick interviews along the carpet, dodging relationship questions and One Direction digging. He hugs and kisses friends for the camera, talks about his album and tour plans, and tries not to worry too much about Isla, inside the theater with Mully and Emilia. It feels weirder than he anticipated, being separated from her and having to do his job while he knows she’s watching him. She can’t sit with him either, won’t be able to hold his hand when they call out his category, kiss him when he loses—or wins.

But this is better than nothing, he tells himself, shoving his hands in his pockets as he and Tara make the final stretch down the carpet. Having Isla here, even if she can’t be next to him, is as good as it gets for them right now.

Winning hadn’t even occurred to Niall.

When they call his name it’s genuine shock—enough that he almost thinks he’s imagining it for a second, until Shawn claps him on the back and Tara launches into a hug and holy shit, fuck, he’s actually won it, an AMA, all on his own.

He stumbles up to the stage shaking with adrenaline, heart soaring, and it’s not until he gets to the mic that he realizes he hasn’t prepared a speech at all, hadn’t even let himself consider the possibility that he would actually, for real, win this thing. For a split second he’s staring out at an expectant room, filled with the faces of his friends, his colleagues, his idols, with nothing to say.

And then he spots Isla. She’s next to Emilia, only a few rows back but all the way on the side, so it’s no wonder he hadn’t seen her before, and she’s got this glint in her eyes that Niall thinks might be tears, her hands covering her mouth, Emilia’s arm over her shoulders. It’s enough, just seeing her, to wake him the fuck up.

The speech comes out easy, then: thank yous to his team at Capitol and at Modest, and a hearty thank you to the fans, for making this possible. It feels like his heart is screaming at him, though, as he clutches the bulky, heavy award with both hands and raises it into the air.

All he wants to do is be able to thank Isla.

Someone, Niall can’t remember who, suggests ditching the afterparty, and somehow they all end up at his house: Shawn Mendes, Nick Jonas, Selena, the lads from The Chainsmokers, Julia, everyone. It feels a bit like sneaking out on a school trip, like they’ve escaped the teachers and can spend the night doing what they want, instead of something boring and educational, and Niall feels like he’s at the center of it all, like the hero of the night, like the most important person in the room.

That might have something to do with Isla, though, the way she’s taken off her blazer so she’s just in her trousers and her bralette, the way she’s talking to Julia and Emilia but keeps glancing back in Niall’s direction, smiling privately when she catches his eye. It’s warm in here with all the bodies and Niall’s slowly shedding his clothes, too: his jacket is off and so is his vest, and he’s already undone the first few buttons of his shirt. He keeps catching Isla trailing her eyes over his chest, his collarbone, his neck. The feeling of her eyes on him is like lightning in his lower belly.

‘She’s stunning,’ Nick tells Niall, jerking his head in Isla’s direction. They’re in the kitchen, him, Nick, and Shawn, leaning up against the counter and sipping on gin and tonics. ‘Good for you.’

Niall feels a rising in his chest, pride, happiness. It outshines even the feeling of winning his award tonight. ‘She’s brilliant,’ Niall says. ‘I’m lucky.’

‘Where’d you meet? She’s Irish too, right?’

‘They’ve known each other since, like, kindergarten,’ Shawn answers for him. ‘Dated in school, broke up when he made it big, got back together after things settled down. The whole nine yards.’

‘Oh, hometown hero?’ Nick’s smirking. ‘That’s sweet, bro. You keeping her around for a while, then?’

‘Forever, hopefully,’ says Niall. He and Isla haven’t talked about that in explicit words, but he can’t imagine anything else. He watches Nick raise his eyebrows, tipping back another sip of his drink.

‘Good for you,’ he repeats, once he’s swallowed. ‘She seems like a good one.’

As the night cools off, Isla does, too. Slowly but surely Niall notices her loosen up, expanding her circle from just Mia and Julia to include Selena, and then Nick and Shawn. By the time he and Mully come back up from the basement, where they’d gone to fetch more wine, Isla is in the middle of it all, sandwiched between Tara and Mia but chatting excitedly to Shawn and The Chainsmokers, laughing into her vodka soda. He feels a swell of pride again, a twinge of hope in his heart. She can fit in here. He’s known it all along.

He and Mully join the group to cheers and shouts, hands reaching out for the full bottles of wine. Tara squeezes over, closer to Selena, and Niall’s able to fit in between her and Isla, his hand coming to rest on her knee. With a soft squeeze he meets her eyes, mirrors her smile.

‘Okay?’ He mouths, just for her.

She nods, hand coming up to rest on top of his.

‘Isla was just telling me,’ says Nick, who pronounces the ‘s’ in Isla’s name. Mully snorts, but Nick doesn’t notice. ‘About school in Ireland. I never knew you played soccer, bro.’

‘Star of the team, he was,’ says Mully. He squeals when Emilia elbows him in the stomach.

‘We should play,’ Nick carries on. ‘Five a side or something. Isla?’

‘Oh,’ she blushes, shaking her head. ‘I’m pretty shite at football, honestly. Sean, though—’

‘Fuck yeah,’ Mully interjects. ‘Five a side is my shit. I’ll get jerseys made up and—’

Nick looks a little put out and Niall can’t help it: he feels smug. He snakes his hand around Isla’s waist, resting his palm against the bare skin of her back, his fingers playing gently with the lace of her bralette. She casts him a sly look and he feels on top of the world, like a king beside her. And what a fucking feeling it is.

‘You know,’ he says, later that night, Isla resting against his bare chest in bed. His limbs are heavy with exhaustion, alcohol, post-orgasm bliss. ‘I think Nick Jonas has a crush on you.’

‘If you told 2008 Isla that one day she’d have to choose between you and Nick fucking Jonas,’ she glances up at him, her eyes glinting with supressed laughter. She looks heavenly like this, Niall thinks: naked, hair cascading down her back, legs tangled up with his, bed sheets pooling around her waist.

‘You’d totally choose me,’ Niall finishes for her, leaning down for a kiss. Isla laughs into his mouth, hand coming up to cup his cheek. When they pull away Isla presses her nose to Niall’s, holding him there for a moment.

‘Thank you for tonight,’ she says eventually. ‘For including me, for being so patient with me.’

‘I always want you included,’ he tightens his arms around her waist. ‘I don’t want to do this without you.’

‘Me neither,’ Isla whispers, eyes locked on Niall’s.

‘Not even with Nick?’ He asks, smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Isla laughs too, crinkles at the corner of her eyes, nose scrunching up, giggles carrying through his quiet bedroom. Contentedness settles over Niall’s body like a warm blanket, like Isla on top of him.

‘Not even with Nick Jonas,’ she kisses Niall gently, lips brushing his as she speaks. ‘No one but you, lover.’

####

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twoblueheartslocked · 4 years

Text

Seblaine Para- Present Day (NYE1)

Para: Hold On To The Memories, They Will Hold On To You

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Seblaine.

Sebastian: @colorsicantsee

Blaine: @twoblueheartslocked

Time: New Year’s Eve- Present Day. (1)

Location: Manhattan, New York

Info: A former Dalton Academy Warbler throws a New Year’s party for any former Warblers that can make it to NYC. Sebastian and Blaine haven’t seen each other in almost four years. They haven’t spoken for over two years. Both of them are changed and damaged in different ways. Feelings pushed down by time that never went away flare up in the worst way.

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, mentions of drug use, death, smoking, drinking, cursing.

Extra Warnings: (This RP is not Kurt Hummel friendly. You’ve all been warned.)

Notes: Under a cut because of length.

Blaine’s POV:

Breathe in and back out again, Blaine. Count to ten. You’ve got this. Most of these people here have your best interest in mind. You don’t need to worry. Everything is going to be alright. You can get through this night in one piece and you’ll be back home, in Brooklyn, in your cramped, shitty apartment, in your cramped, shitty bed, in your closet of a bedroom before you know it.

Blaine’s inner monologue, something his therapist thought him to do, did very little to quell the nerves and rampant anxiety that seemed to be chewing through the pit of his stomach as he made his way into the crowded New Years party. Former Warblers- from ages 18 to who knows, graced the walls of the rooftop Manhattan apartment that some Warbler, whose name kept escaping him, owned. For the third time since he tousled his loose curls with product that night he wondered what the hell he was doing here. He’d only been at Dalton for two years before he made the stupid, yet admittedly valuable, jump to McKinley High. He felt like a fraud among the alumni that had spent all four years within it’s halls. Still, he’d told Sam that he would try and with a promise from David and Nick to not abandon him, he managed to follow through.

He just hoped and prayed to a god he wasn’t sure existed that Kurt didn’t decide he wasn’t too good to call himself a Warbler and show up. His stomach gave a painful lurch at the recurring worry and the back of his neck throbbed, a phantom of clenched fingers squeezing too tight to make a point. And it was so intense that Blaine could swear Kurt was there, right behind him. He ducked his head, shame washing through him as his eyes darted around the room, wide and on full alert. Why hadn’t he worn a scarf? He’d been promised by David, who was promised by the host, that Kurt had turned down the invite, but he couldn’t shake the fingers and the ringing sound of disappointment in his ears that always sounded a lot like his ex-boyfriend’s voice.

He wasn’t prepared for the onslaught of attention he’d get as he was spotted by the first of his class of Warblers. Trent, and Wes were clapping him on the back, and pulling him into hugs. Jeff throwing an arm over his shoulders and shouting over the thump of bass- something about him being the man, the myth, the legend himself. Causing Blaine to tense up at the sudden contact, his cheeks flaring up red and hot at the words. He forced himself to smile, and give a gentle laugh to shake off the attention. Most of these people hadn’t seen him since high school. They didn’t really even know him anymore at all. Few did. These guys- they still thought of him as Blaine Warbler, the face of Dalton- with his easy smiles for everyone, and charisma and charm. If his old friends noticed his unusual quiet they didn’t address it. Blaine was glad for it. He didn’t think he could handle a look of pity for his losses or any of his plights.

He let himself be handed a clear plastic cup, someone must have remembered that he liked whisky, probably David, and he took a cautious sip. He didn’t need to get drunk and uninhibited around people he hardly knew anymore. Someone offered to take his short black pea coat from him and he politely declined, pulling the fabric around him like a shield. He felt a little like his teenage self, putting too much gel in his hair as if it would protect him and all at once he cursed himself for not giving up his coat. He made himself take another drink, hoping he could loosen up just a bit.

Twenty minutes in and he had managed to truly laugh at a few memories his old friends brought up. He even managed to talk about a few without second guessing himself. A little of his old confidence rising to the surface. He hadn’t even noticed that David had left his side until his friend gently tugged on his sleeve, his handsome, dark features looking stressed. Blaine’s body instantly froze, his eyes wide as he mouthed Kurt? to his second closest friend. But, David shook his head and sighed regretfully before he pointed to the balcony and time seemed to stop for Blaine because he wasn’t supposed to be here either.

There, on the balcony, framed by a snowy New York City skyline in a halo of cigarette smoke, looking bored even though Blaine couldn’t see his face, as he was facing the city, stood Sebastian Smythe. Clothed in a thigh length black pea coat, the grey hood of a hoodie peeking out over the collar, his long legs holding up a thin frame, too thin, actually. Did the man ever eat? As if Blaine were one to talk… And suddenly, just like that, seeing his absolute asshole of an ex didn’t seem as bad as this. Nor would it feel as bad. And for a second Blaine couldn’t breathe properly. And his heart throbbed at the sight of him and all at once he truly wished it was Kurt instead. He’d take feeling small and useless over the pain of regret and heartbreak any day.

Suddenly he was newly seventeen again and both of his parents were still alive and he was happy as his fingers laced with a uncharacteristically shy Sebastian’s. And Seb’s trademark smirk was gone and replaced with an imperfectly perfect toothy, wide smile that made his impossible green eyes crinkle in delight. And that smile was new to Seb and seemed made up just for Blaine for a little while and Blaine was giddy and free in a way he couldn’t remember ever feeling before. They fit together in a way that Blaine had never felt and would never feel again and Blaine’s heart had ached to just stay with him… and-

A slight shake from David brought him back to present time and Blaine dragged his eyes from the balcony to look into David’s deep brown gaze. David assured him that Sebastian hadn’t seen him yet and that they could just leave, but how could Blaine do that? It had been so long… He licked his lips and took a long pull on his drink, draining the rest in one go. He handed the cup to his friend and assured him that he’d be fine. He’d regret it if he didn’t say hello. Right? He stood up, feeling the heat of whisky course through him as he made his way through the crowd and to the open balcony door. He pulled his gloves on before pushing outside, liquid courage making him feel brave for a moment. He hadn’t noticed at first, but Hunter Clarington was out here too, looking like some sort of guard dog with raised hackles protecting his friend and Blaine almost turned back because what must Hunter think of him? Would he stop him before he even had the chance to speak? He braved it and gave Hunter a nod and a twitch of his lips that was meant to be a smile.

With each step towards Sebastian his heart pounded as if it were in danger. Boom, boom, boom... When his voice came out, he hardly recognized it as his own and when Sebastian turned to face him his booming heart ached all over again because god dammit he was still so beautiful.

“Hey, Seb.” It was soft and unsure and he prayed to see his smile, but knew he’d get the same old, I don’t care about anything, smirk.

Sebastian’s POV:

Sebastian didn’t care about this stupid Warbler party. He couldn't care less about pretending and parading around talking about majors and future plans and cramped dorm rooms and sketchy roommates. He hardly checked his Facebook let alone keep up with fucking Trent or some other random wasp from BFE Ohio. Sebastian didn’t even really know if he considered himself a Warbler anymore. Of course, Hunter insisted that he was. It was Seb, after all, who helped him climb out of his Steroid problem and who was dance captain for his short time at the school. He didn’t really have any friends from Dalton, just Hunter and Seb couldn’t decide half of the time if that was out of “bro code” or “owing him one”. He had run away to Paris after his heart was broken by every good Dalton boy’s favorite guy and he never went back. Sebastian’s heart wasn’t in Westerville, it wasn’t in Paris, either. Sebastian would know, he had spent countless nights chasing gold in the blue and brown eyes of Parisian men. His heart wasn’t even in his own body that he filled with expensive alcohol and nicotine, that he gave away to random boys under the flash of blue and pink lights, in graffitied bathroom stalls, in the back of expensive cars, in rooms where wives were gone for the weekend.

Hunter had begged, and Sebastian hated it when he begged. “C’mon,dude. Don’t make me go alone. Everyone will ask about you.” “Man up and go. Don’t be a dick.” “Bas, please go.” Sebastian kept insisting in texts and phone calls that he found the party to be a waste of time even though he and his friend both knew he was afraid of seeing a certain somebody there. “What’s the point? It’s a party for people who had their peak in high school. How pitiful.” Hunter ignored him and told him that Blaine probably wouldn’t show up. Suddenly it was the evening of the party and Sebastian was being shoved into an Uber by Hunter who was visiting from Cambridge for the weekend. He chainsmoked the entire way to the party much to the chagrin of their disgruntled driver. Sebastian kept his eyes locked on the rear view mirror to make distinct eye contact with the grumpy man driving, he’d take a long drag anytime their eyes met and the man would huff. Hunter left a big tip, Sebastian winked on the way out with a dry laugh. “That was probably the most fun I’m going to have tonight.”

He walked into the party, the apartment was nice enough and lit with white Christmas lights strung everywhere. There was generic pop music throbbing through the walls and plenty to drink, nothing too crazy expensive but nothing cheap that would cause a terrible hangover the next morning. There were more than just former Warblers, there were some girls and some random guys. Maybe Sebastian could score tonight and leave early, lock Hunter out of his apartment that he did not remember inviting him to stay in.

Seb poured himself a shot of vodka and tossed it back before Jeff made eye contact with him and tried pulling him into a hug. He held his hands out and simply deadpanned a “No way.” before he turned to pour himself another shot as the blonde prattled on about whatever Ivy League he was attending. Sebastian nodded towards the balcony, Hunter followed and Jeff got the hint. Hunter started to reprimand Sebastian about how he could at least try to be nice but all he could focus on was the light snow that began to swirl in the air and the itch in the back of his throat for another cigarette. He waved his hand dismissively and lit another one, tilted his head back and exhaled into the dark sky.

Seb flicked his cigarette into the New York night. Maybe the ashes would settle among the stars. He tried to focus on that thought rather than listen to the familiar voice he had heard slip through the crack in the balcony door. He knew the minute he turned around, he was going to be Blaine’s fool all over again. Sebastian became aware of everything at once. He could feel Hunter shift his weight, he must have seen him through the windows. He could hear the conversation get louder over the excitement of Blaine being there, could feel the air trying to escape from his lungs, the butterflies fight against his rib-cage, his heart pound in his fucking ears. He swallowed a thick gulp that he hoped the other man didn’t see and took a shaky drag as he stared at the snow gathering on the buildings around them. Blaine loves this shit, he thought to himself. Sebastian hated the cold but he would stand in a blizzard if it meant listening to Blaine wax poetic about snow globes and winter magic. He’d never say any of that out loud, he’d rather throw himself off of the balcony into the busy streets of the city.

Sebastian bit his bottom lip and closed his eyes for a moment when he heard the door creak, the sounds of the party drift on the cold winter air. He needed to suck it up and turn around. He could do this. Sebastian spun around, his green eyes on Blaine’s giant golden ones immediately as if by some magnetic force. He took a slow, deliberate drag of his cigarette, prayed that nobody could hear the rapid thud of his give away heart in his chest. Sebastian noticed David’s tall figure behind him, felt Hunter’s nerves and heard him mutter “fuck…” under his breath. He flicked his cigarette, “Relax, David. I won’t hurt him.” Sebastian smirked, couldn’t look away from Blaine. He looked...well obviously he looked wonderful, he always did. Snowflakes were starting to collect in his black curls and his cheeks were red from the bitter winter air.

Sebastian hoped his voice sounded even and cool, hoped his chill ‘I don’t give a fuck’ demeanor that he worked way too hard on was evident, even though he felt like he was sixteen and stuck in the midst of a raging crush all over again.

“Hey Killer. Long time no see.”

Blaine’s POV:

Blaine’s brain buzzed at the use of his old nickname. The one that had gotten him in trouble with Kurt, the first time they were together, every single time it was used by Sebastian. Blaine had always secretly liked it, liked that it was his and no one else called him that. He’d never tell Seb, even as they had gotten closer, he always rolled his eyes and shook his head as if it miffed him when in reality it sent the butterflies fluttering around his belly. It was almost as nice as when Seb would eventually whisper B... into his ear when he’d let Blaine kiss his neck… Best not go there, Anderson. That was years ago. So, he rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Not that same old tune again.” He tried to make it sound playful, but really it just made him ache more. He turned and looked over his shoulder at David, giving him a small smile. “It’s okay- I’m okay.” He wondered if David knew he was lying. He nodded as if that would forced the point. David sighed and stepped back into the party, but Blaine could still see the outline of his body close to the door. He was thankful.

There was a snowflake clinging to Seb’s cheek like a lifeline, no wait, it was ash from the careless flick of Seb’s cigarette and Blaine wanted nothing more than to take his glove off, reach out and swipe it away with his thumb. Once upon a time Blaine had been on to him about this bad habit, and how dangerous it was, but couldn’t deny it’s attractiveness… This was absolute insanity. Blaine had only had Sebastian for a short time, but that was all it took to completely ruin him. Perhaps he ruined himself in the process, it was his fault they cracked in the first place. Right? His heart gave a painful thump as he let himself think back to their months spent getting to know each other, the real person behind their facades. He remembered his first taste of Seb’s mouth against his and how he thought, in that moment, that he’d be happy just kissing him for the rest of his life, but then their one perfect, intimate night together proved him wrong. He’d just wanted to touch him forever.

And for a moment, lost in his thoughts, Blaine almost smiled at the memories. That was until he remembered what came after, the news that ripped his happiness apart and left him gutted, the loss that rendered Blaine useless to himself and everyone else. The loss was his downfall in more ways than one and the reason Blaine allowed himself to go back to Kurt and the reason he was skittish now, the reason he hadn’t kissed anyone in nine months, the reason he was stuck in this shell of himself in the first place. Phantom fingers squeezed the back of his neck again and he swallowed hard, hoping it wasn’t noticed. Breathe in, breathe out. Count to ten. You’ve got this, Blaine. He shoved his hands into his pockets, hoping they’d think he was shaking from the cold.

He cleared his throat, forcing himself out of his memories, memories that did nothing but hurt him like they no doubt hurt Sebastian, even though the other man seemed to be doing fine on the outside, Blaine remembered the stricken, pained look and the welling of tears in too bright green eyes. Blaine knew you couldn’t fake that. He took another deep breath, and made himself smile up at the taller man, it was small and meek, but it was a smile nonetheless. He couldn’t bring himself to look Sebastian in the eye, so he instead focused on the little fleck of ash on his cold flushed cheek and tried not to think about how Sebastian was more breathtaking than the snowy city skyline he adored so much.

“I’m surprised you came, it’s not really your scene, is it?’ He forced a laugh, noting how Hunter was flicking looks between the two of them and over his shoulder where David was still no doubt lurking. “I didn’t even know you were in New York.” A lie- and it just rolled off of his tongue as if to prove something. But of course Blaine knew Seb was here, had been for maybe two years. “Are you going to school here, or just visiting?” The small talk would be the death of him. He’d give anything to just be in his shitty, yet cozy apartment where he wasn’t on display and where he could at least try to pretend he wasn’t miserable with a Netflix and donuts distraction. Midnight felt years away.

Sebastian’s POV:

“Well, you’ve always had an effect on me, B. You have me feeling a little nostalgic.” Sebastian took another long drag and blew the smoke out of the side of his mouth, one arm folded across his chest to clutch at his arm, cigarette at his side. He heard Hunter scoff and could see the shake of his head as if to say ‘you never give anything a rest, do you?’ How could he give anything a rest when his biggest regret was standing in front of him with nervous tension in the crease of his forehead?

Sebastian finished his cigarette and dropped it to the ground, stomped the flame out with the tip of his boot. It would be a little gift for the random Warbler who owned the apartment. He shoved his hands into his pockets and nodded as Blaine spoke. Sebastian noticed that he wasn’t making eye contact, which was strange for him. Blaine was charismatic and talkative and charming, he could sell paper to a tree. The warm light that normally seemed to follow the other man everywhere he went seemed dimmed, his smile didn’t reach those perfect eyes. Sebastian knew hurt, he knew quiet pain and it was written all over Blaine.

Hunter mumbled that he was going to grab them some drinks and left the balcony to just the two of them. Seb could hear New Years party goers yelling in the streets, could what laughter and dull music and car horns. It would be midnight soon and he wished he was lost in a crowded bar right about now rather than faking small talk with somebody he used to adore. Sebastian hated small talk and he hated faking how he really felt and here he was, failing at both.

“Okay, small talk. Here we go. Yeah, it’s not my scene. Hunter begged me to come. I’ve lived here for a couple years. I go to Columbia. How about you, Blaine? Living your wildest dreams? Married yet? Starring on Broadway? Breaking hearts? What’s new?” He cleared his throat and forced a smirk. He knew he sounded abrasive. Sebastian shoved his hands in his coat pockets and rocked back on his heels, ducking his head to try and get the other man to look at him, to really look at him. “See something you like?” He couldn’t wait for Hunter to come back with a drink to distract his hands and quiet his mind for a brief moment.

Blaine’s POV:

Blaine let out a mirthless laugh, it sounded small and timid in his ears and he cursed himself for sounding that way. He opened his mouth to reply, to say something that could match Sebastian, to keep up with him the way he used to be able to, but nothing came out. He just nodded, his shoulder coming up in a shrug as if he’d forgotten how to use his mouth. This was hell for him. This tension, this emotion that was threatening to take hold of him. Why the hell had he come out here? To say hi? What kind of bullshit was that? Did he think that it would prove something to himself? That he could do it without falling apart? There was a reason he hadn’t spoken to Sebastian in over two years. There was a reason Sebastian’s stance was defensive right now. There was a reason Blaine was internally falling apart all over again, after he’d done such a bang up job putting himself back together. He should have just left. It would have been better for him than this...whatever this was.

He watched as Hunter left the balcony, leaving him and Sebastian, miraculously, all alone. Seriously, why wasn’t this spot running wild with party goers? Midnight wasn’t even twenty minutes away and the people of New York would usually kill for this spot. Up high in the grey black skyline of NYC, he could even hear the faint sounds of Taylor Swift singing in Times Square in the silence that lay between him and Sebastian. Perfect melancholy soundtrack for this kind of night he guessed. He opened his mouth to try again, to maybe fill the silence but Sebastian beat him to it seeming annoyed and irritated that Blaine had asked anything at all. The use of his name caused him to tense for a split second and wonder what he’d said to warrant that when he remembered this was Sebastian. Sebastian’s default was usually annoyance. Or seduction.

He tried to make himself relax, and found that his first thought was to wonder how insensitive Sebastian could be to joke about Broadway and marriage, but he had to remind himself that Sebastian had only been around for the first part of his battle. He only knew half of what had happened to him. He didn’t know that he’d lost the music inside of him or that he felt every single day like an impostor in his own life and that love apparently was not for him. He took another deep breath and tried not to notice how Sebastian’s head dipped down for him, ducking so that he could see him. Or so that he could make Blaine see. It was familiar and a call back to younger years and it made Blaine’s heart flip. Yeah, Seb, I do. I see you. But, he didn’t say that because that wasn’t fair. Instead he stumbled over his words.

“I- N-no, I’m a Sophomore at NYU. I, um, I took a year off after high school because, um, well, you know.” He shrugged. Yeah, blame it on the dead parents. Sure, it was partially true, but Kurt and his “helpful” suggestion to take a break and stay with him for peace of mind was the real reason and it had done nothing but damage his mind. He took another deep breath and forced himself to finally look up at Seb. To look at his face properly, his eyes meeting an intense and familiar green that were hiding their emotions very carefully. Same as always. Blaine had spent months, once upon a time, gently tugging those walls down and with regret he remembered how they snapped harshly back into place within seconds, blocking him out completely.

His anxiety was on the rise again with those kinds of thoughts and he visibly swallowed and took another deep breath. His mantra repeating in his head over and over. Breathe in, breathe out. Count to ten. You’ve got this, Blaine. Maybe it didn’t really work, maybe he was kidding himself but it was currently keeping him from his urge to cry. To obsess over Sebastian’s flippant and annoyed words because maybe Blaine had broken Seb’s heart, but he’d also broken his own in the process. The fucking thing was still in pieces that never seemed to want to fit back the way they were supposed to. But his therapist had helped him see that while his actions when he was younger were warranted, given the circumstances, he maybe could have done it in a better way. Explained himself better to Sebastian. Then maybe the two of them would be someplace else right now and Blaine would have never gone back to Kurt. He also should have stayed in therapy in high school and not stopped going for years when Kurt told him he didn’t need it. His head might be someplace else right now as well.

He tried at sarcasm. “If you consider a cramped Brooklyn flat with a closet for a bedroom and working two and half jobs on top of classes The Dream then sure, yeah, I’m living it.” The sarcasm fell flat and he only ended up sounding self deprecating which made him want to kick himself because he didn’t want Seb’s pity. He ignored the marriage question altogether and instead chose to focus on what was actually new in his life. What could he even say? Hey Seb, I’m super fucked up, I’ve been in heavy therapy that’s breaking my bank for six months now. I take a shit load of meds that make me want to sleep for days sometimes, or keep me awake for days at other times. And sometimes they make it so I can’t eat, not even my sweets, you remember how I liked those, right? Yeah, and sometimes they make it so I can’t cry and then some days I can’t stop crying. Oh yeah, after my parents died and I lost you I went back to Kurt and he ended up being a bully this time around, like the worst kind. Can you believe I allowed myself to get abused? He struggled even thinking that word. Fuck.

No. No, he couldn’t say any of that. But, he needed to say something. Something that was good and positive about himself. Just fucking make something up, Blaine. “Ah, well, as I said, I’ve moved to Brooklyn. Like seven or so months ago. It’s cramped, and weird living alone after, um, never living alone before but it’s mine and I get a lot of time with my music now.” Never mind that he wasn’t writing or even playing at all. Only when it came to his school work and even then it was mostly uninspired.

“What about you? Is New York treating you as good as Paris does?” Suddenly he wanted to just tell Sebastian that he missed him. That he thought about him all the damn time and that over the course of the last four years he’d picked up his phone to call him and tell him and to beg him to come back to him over a dozen times. The one time he actually did it didn’t really count because he had been intoxicated and it was messy. Instead he lamely asked, “How’s your mom?” because he’d always liked Sabine and it was the furthest thing away from I miss you as possible.

He turned and looked back into the sliding glass of the apartment door, wanting to break the eye contact in some way, feeling trapped in the emerald hue. He didn’t want to feel trapped. It made him anxious. He could make out the shape of Hunter and David bent together conversationally as they slowly made their way back towards them. Both of them carried drinks in each hand. God, he wished they’d hurry. He could feel himself crumbling. The facade of happiness he’d painted on for his old friends falling apart the longer he stood out here talking like nothing had happened. He always did this with Sebastian. Always gave way too much of himself away to him. He let him see everything. And maybe it was because with Seb, he was allowed to be too much. Or he used to be allowed anyway. Now he had nothing. Just memories that ate him up all the time. Making Blaine feel the other shitty things in his life even more intensely.

He wrapped his arms around himself to try and hold himself together. Midnight was close. It would arrive and then leave and Seb would, too. Probably putting the thought of Blaine back into whatever locked compartment he kept him in. And Blaine would go home and feel the chance meeting way too much and all at once and fuck he needed more to drink. His head was already throbbing right along with his heart at the thought of having to sit alone and feel this little conversation.

Sebastian’s POV:

Sebastian could see a million little emotions flit across Blaine’s face. Sebastian had kept track for a little while on social media but, it had hurt him to see that he had gotten back with Kurt. He had taken a step back after that. He stopped checking his Facebook obsessively, stopped staring at his Instagram, didn’t send texts or snaps. Blaine had drunkenly called him one glorious, hopeful night but it was all taken away from him the next morning. Sebastian noticed that Blaine mentioned moving and living alone. He had heard that the two of them had split and kept that information folded up like a secret love note in the back of his head. Sebastian couldn’t keep his stomach from flipping in excitement to basically hear it confirmed out loud. He reprimanded the butterflies battering his ribs, had to silently remind them that simply hearing words didn’t really mean anything and they were all just going to be let down again. “Isn’t it strange? We’ve both been running around the city for about the same amount of time and haven’t ran into each other? I suppose it’s because you’d never find me in Brooklyn.” Sebastian threw in a trademark eye roll for good measure, trying his best to keep his voice blase. His fingers itched to light a cigarette, his nerves were on fire from the specific spike of adrenaline that only a past heartbreak can cause.

He ran a hand through his hair to shake away the snowflakes that had gathered there and shivered, he wasn’t sure if it was from the nerves or from the weather. “New York treats me just fine. There are so many beautiful men, so many parties. I stay busy.”

Sebastian’s face fell slightly when the other man asked about his mother. Part of him felt angry, like how dare he? Maybe if he cared so much he could have reached out a few times. The other part of him understood because Blaine grew close with Sabine in the short time they were involved. Seb knew that if she were there, she’d pull the other man into a lavender scented hug and tell him in her accent that she had missed seeing him around. “She’s good.” He shrugged his shoulders. Sebastian wasn’t about to get into any of the messy details of how their relationship had become fucked up since Blaine was in his kitchen baking Christmas cookies with her. He loved his mother, she was his closest confidant. But he had messed up so many times in the past few years that she had developed little worry lines in her beautiful forehead, sounded sad on the phone with him more often than not, cried for him and begged him to slow down.

Sebastian heard the door slide open, saw Hunter and David appear with drinks behind Blaine. “Fucking finally.” He held out his hand for his drink. “Took you long enough. We could use the pick me up, couldn’t we, B?”

Blaine’s POV:

Blaine tried to smile, but it came out more as a wince.”Yeah, I guess you’re right.” In reality Blaine knew it was relatively easy to avoid someone when you knew they lived around you. Blaine would often find himself checking in on Hunter’s Instagram or Facebook or Twitter to see if he was in town. Hunter was much more active on socials and would often post some of the places he and Sebastian would frequent. Blaine knew places to avoid in Manhattan for the most part. Plus, it wasn’t like Blaine had spent his first years here going out and about by himself all the time. No, that was difficult when where you went and what you did was mostly dictated by someone else. When you mostly only did things that they wanted to do.

“Hey, Brooklyn isn’t so bad. I’ve been working at a local coffee shop and a bar there for the last few months and it’s been pretty therapeutic. And sure, the apartment is shitty, but it beats the overpriced ritzy places in Manhattan.” He rolled his eyes, trying to come across as playful. His apartment in Manhattan had actually been incredible. Just not the people he had to share it with. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to forgive Rachel for denying what was happening right in front of her. He cleared his throat, trying to get rid of the thought before he was engulfed in more anxiety about it. “Besides, I lived in Manhattan for the first three years I lived here, so there was always the chance we could have run into each other then. Guess fate wasn’t having it.”

Beautiful men and parties. Of course Blaine knew Sebastian did that sort of thing. He did that sort of thing when he was fifteen. But, he could feel that this was meant to sting him a little and if not, it stung anyway. He didn’t like thinking about Sebastian with random men every weekend, but he wasn’t stupid. Not about this anyway. And Sebastian had never been shy about his sex life. It didn't matter if he already knew though, he could feel his face fall at the confirmation, could feel the sudden stricken look and did his best to cover it up. He bit his lip and forced himself to nod. “It’s good that you’re keeping busy. I’m happy the city has been good to you.” the words tasted rotten on his tongue and where the hell were Hunter and David?

Blaine noted the way Sebastian’s face fell at the mention of Sabine and knew that he’d messed up by asking. Blaine had been incredibly fond of her, he found her glamorous and lovely and admired the way she loved Sebastian so much. But Seb’s short answer and stiff shrug made Blaine wonder if maybe she hated him now, too. Hated him for hurting her son even though Blaine hadn’t wanted to. He wouldn’t blame her. He still hated himself for it. “I’m glad to hear that.” The words felt hollow even though they were true.

David waited until Blaine could see him before he nudged him and handed him his drink. The cup was full and Blaine had to fight the urge to down it in one go.He shouldn’t be drinking anything at all. It would work against his medicine and probably make him sick but he couldn’t find it in him to care as he took a gulp like the whisky was water. Yeah, Seb had been right, the pick me up was needed. He smiled and thanked David for the drink, his friend asking if he was cool before he moved to lean against the railing on the balcony with Hunter. The two of them were turned toward each other and seemed to be picking up their earlier conversation which left him alone with Sebastian again.

He turned towards his old friend- friend? Lover? God, what even was Sebastian to him? Neither word seemed good enough. He lifted his cup for another drink, his eyes catching on Seb’s cheek again. The cigarette ash was still there. Still kissing Seb’s cheekbone and Blaine opened his mouth to tell him about it when the sounds of thousands of people started counting from the streets below joined by the crowd in the apartment. He froze, the voices blending like a choir in perfect harmony.

They had gotten to from eight to five and Blaine shot Hunter and David a look because why didn’t they tell them what time it was? Blaine had been hoping to excuse himself before midnight, was hoping to have himself hidden away in the bathroom so he didn’t have to hug a bunch of strangers or have someone kiss his cheek and he didn’t have to pretend he was excited for the new year. But, here he was, standing not even three feet from Sebastian Smythe and he didn’t know what to do. 4-3-2… and suddenly there were fireworks bursting overhead, it was a new year and there was confetti billowing in the winter night to the melancholy tune of Auld Lang Syne as it rang out. Snowflakes danced in the air while the people below kissed and laughed like they'd never feel sorrow again. He wished he could relate.

Sebastian's POV:

Sebastian’s stomach fell, fell through the apartment building floors, the butterflies gone. Guess fate wasn’t having it. His mouth stiffened and he took a sharp breath. He wanted to pinch the bridge of his nose, a nervous tick of his when he got frustrated. Sebastian fought against his own body, the acidic sick feeling in his stomach, the jittery adrenaline running through his veins, the trapped 16 year old in his brain yelling and screaming and begging Blaine to just fucking take him back. Just tell me you miss me, please. I miss you. I feel like you hate me and that makes me hate myself. “It was fate, sure.” Sebastian’s voice was dry and he fought the urge to laugh. You know that maniacal laughter when everything is just too much and your lungs feel like they might explode and your skin is burning and all you want to do is scream and laugh and tell everybody to just fuck off? “I guess fate has never favored me.”

He was so over this small talk. He was disgusted by the reactions happening under his skin that nobody but him could feel. Blaine was Sebastian’s first and only heartbreak. He was disgusted by how sprung he still was, had lied to himself and told himself that he was over it. Sebastian had never been over it and that realization was so embarrassing that he could hardly stand himself and he wanted to tear himself out of his skin. Most of the words Blaine was saying were just floating over his head at this point, he was so disappointed with the direction of this meeting. Sometimes when Sebastian got drunk or sad or high enough he would let himself imagine reuniting with Blaine. That Blaine would tell him he missed him and Sebastian would say that he loved him and they’d patch each other’s wounds and kiss in pools and hold hands in parks and share french fries and Blaine would tackle him in his mother’s backyard and kiss him all over his face, his neck and they’d laugh until their stomachs hurt again.

Sebastian took a much needed swig of his vodka cranberry that Hunter had made a little too weak and rolled his eyes to himself. Of course Hunter wouldn’t make him a strong drink. He was probably too worried about him. It didn’t matter, Sebastian already planned on ditching the party for a bar anyway. Suddenly, the world seemed to explode into noise. Sebastian could hear the countdown echoing all around them. Hunter and David distracted and cheering, clapping each other on the back. The people inside of the apartment wrapped in the golden glow of Christmas lights left up from the days before, some of them were kissing strangers or old lovers, shaking hands and hugging and laughing. A few of the party goers exploded onto the balcony in a burst of noisemakers and music but Sebastian felt like he was alone, just staring at Blaine as he awkwardly clasped his plastic cup. He felt like he was stuck in the worst snow globe ever produced. Such a sad scene; two damaged boys too afraid to fix anything surrounded by kissing strangers and dirty snow and cheering partiers. They say that the people you’re with at midnight on New Year’s eve were who you would spend your year with. The thought made Sebastian feel so alone because he didn’t really feel like Blaine was really there.

In the back of his head, where he kept his most guarded secrets, Sebastian knew he would give anything to be wrapped in the warmth of Blaine, the glow of cheap lights on their skin, kissing the taste of New Year’s champagne away.

The words were out of his lips before he could stop them. Sebastian knew his eyes looked pained, and that his flirty voice didn’t match his sad but eager body language.

“You don’t wanna kiss me, B?”

Blaine’s POV:

Blaine’s body tensed even more at Sebastian’s words. He knew Sebastian didn’t believe in fate or any of that sort of thing, but the way he said seemed so sad. No Seb, I’m the one that fate doesn’t favor. I’m the fuck up and the reason we’re in this awkward, forced conversation. I’m the reason you’re making yourself stand out here in the cold that you hate so much. You’ve never liked it, only tolerated it for me. Blaine used to love the wintertime, it was magical and it made him feel so full of wonder but he’d lost so much during the winter that the magic had turned harsh and had made him bitter towards the season. No, it wasn’t Seb’s fault or fate’s. It was all his. Why were they doing this? Sebastian hated small talk. He’d always hated the way people scrambled for answers to questions he didn’t give a shit about.

It’s my fault you’re out here, making yourself do things you don’t like doing in the first place. I’m always making you do that. Pushing you out of your comfort zone... Always making you feel and hurt and god, you should hate me. The only thing you ever did wrong was let someone like me see how good you are. You wasted it on me. The words were there, threatening to push past his teeth. He could remember the hurt, no the heart wrenching look on Sebastian’s face when he’d broke it off with him. It didn’t matter why he did it. But he would face a thousand insults and bruises every single day again over seeing that face ever again. He ignored the little voice that sounded a lot like Sam, telling him that he had been forced to face that anyway. A voice sounding like his own told him he must've deserved it.

You don’t wanna kiss me, B?”

Hunter and David were suddenly paying very close attention to the two of them now. And the words sent a spike through his heart and at first he thought he might have been being cruel. Taunting him, and turning what they had into some mockery, but the tone didn’t match his face. Seb’s eyes were full of a pain that Blaine knew well, and his face was eager and open and Blaine could, for just a moment, read him like a book. God, how much are you hurting, Seb? And for a second Blaine ached to just pull him into his arms and hold him close. To reassure him that their time together was so much more than just a fling. That he had loved him wholly and completely and still did. He wanted to kiss his face and tell him that he was so fucking sorry for how it ended and that he deserved the world. He wanted to tell him that even when he had gotten trapped by Kurt and manipulated into a three year relationship of insecurities, and head games that he was unable to dig himself out of, he'd thought about Sebastian. Seb wouldn’t have done those things to Blaine.

What I wouldn’t give to turn back our timeline and keep you with me. Make you feel all the love and attention I have for you. I’d make you see that you deserved all of it and none of the bullshit I did. I’d let you help me though what I lost and I wouldn’t have pushed you away, no matter how much it hurt to bring you down with me.

Still the words were locked in his brain, he couldn’t say them. He didn’t deserve that peace of mind. Telling him how much he missed the summer nights and autumn weekends and winter touches wouldn’t do shit. The damage to them and then to Blaine had already been done. Blaine had started it and then Kurt had seen to the rest. He’d messed Blaine’s mind up completely and manipulated him into thinking he wasn’t good enough for anyone. Therapy only went so far and even Blaine knew that if he wasn’t so stupid he would have left Kurt before it got as bad as it did. And then maybe he’d have found a way back to Sebastian and begged him to give him another chance. But Blaine had been stupid and and wanting to tell Sebastian all of this stuff was unfair to the other man because even if Seb gave him a chance Blaine was so fucked up he wasn’t sure he knew how to do any of it anymore. Nor did he deserve the chance. His hands had gone clammy in his gloves thinking about his relationship with Kurt and he wanted to scream. The cheering and the music and the blood rushing in his ears was all too much.

Maybe Blaine was wrong and he was misreading everything. Maybe Sebastian wasn’t hurting and was only being polite to him because he felt sorry for him. Maybe someone had told him about the last few years of his pathetic life and Seb was taking pity on him. Maybe he and Hunter would go home later and laugh at him. He swallowed hard, biting into his lip hard enough to feel the pain, his breathing picking up as he really looked at Sebastian. No, Blaine wasn’t wrong. Sebastian was hurting, the pain was truly written all over his face. In the way he stood, in the way he tried too hard to sound casual. He didn’t need to try, casual was as easy for Sebastian Smythe as breathing. This was different. The man in front of him was feeling some of the same things as him and it made Blaine feel even worse about himself.

He wanted to run, he wanted to scream but most of all he wanted to walk over and kiss Sebastian. The words had left him with an even bigger ache than he had when he’d first spotted him that night and if he didn’t leave soon he’d embarrass himself not only in front of Sebastian but in front of the rest of his old friends. Some legend, huh? He took a deep breath and lifted his cup to his lips and finished his drink, trying to figure out how he could leave. But, as he was setting the empty cup on the ground and his feet were instantaneously carrying him towards the taller man and his fingers were shedding his gloves. And while Blaine knew he couldn’t kiss him, he wasn’t brave enough nor was it fair to Sebastian, he knew that he needed to at least touch him. Show him that he missed him and that he was happy- or as happy as he could feel right now, to see him.

He tucked his gloves into his coat pocket and stepped up to his person. His eyes were level with Seb’s shoulders and he couldn’t bring himself to look up for a moment. Finally, after what felt like hours but had probably only been seconds, Blaine lifted his eyes to meet Sebastian’s. The other man seemed frozen in time. Blaine’s left hand, shaky and freezing, came up to rest against the side of his face, his thumb softly brushing the little flecks of ash that had made a home on Seb’s cheek away. How easy this felt to him. Standing here with Sebastian’s snow cold face in his hands. It felt so good and Blaine’s lips twitched into an almost smile… And what was he doing? All at once Blaine was overwhelmed. His breath hitched and his eyes were suddenly blurred either from the cold or tears either way it made him drop his hand and shake his head.

“I- I- fuck, um, you just h-had something…” He lifted his hands to show that Seb had something on his face but it seemed silly now and he shook his head, frustrated that he couldn’t get the words out. “I’m sorry. I should go. I have to work in the morning.” A lie. He ducked his head, feeling his anxiety overtake him and why he hadn't brought anything to calm himself down? He looked up, but not into Seb’s eyes, his arms wrapping around himself as he felt like a deer in the headlights. He nodded a goodbye to Hunter and shook his head at David. “I’m good David, I can get an Uber. Stay and have fun, okay?” He turned, head dipped and looked up at Seb through his lashes so that the other man couldn’t really see his face properly. “It was good to see you, Seb, I really hope you have a good night.” He swallowed hard and nodded, as if that would prove he meant it. “Happy New Year.”

Blaine turned on his heel and before David or anyone else could stop him he made his way into the crowded party. He kept his head ducked, bee lining it toward the front door, hoping to god that no one noticed him. He managed to avoid everyone’s hands but not their eyes as his name was called out over the music a few times by random voices, he nodded politely but didn’t stop. He hoped they’d understand and even if they didn’t it didn’t matter. It’d be months before they reached out to him again. The elevator was muggy as he rode down, which made the cold air that hit his heated face seem even more cold when he stepped out of the building. There was already a text from David asking if he was okay, and Nick had sent a series of question marks. Blaine ignored them, his eyes blurry as he pulled up the Uber app and tipsily tried to type the address of the party into his phone.

Breathe in and back out again, Blaine. Count to ten. You’ve got this.

It wouldn’t be until he was home an hour later, tucked into his creaky bed and numb with a dose of sleepiness via an Ambien bottle and the whisky from the party that he’d allow himself to really feel the events of the night as the emotion and pills pulled him into sleep. His eyes would be red and his head would be pounding in the morning.

Sebastian’s POV:

Sebastian knew it was cliche but to him it suddenly felt like the world had stopped. Blaine was moving towards him, he was taking his gloves off, reaching for him. The snow fell slowly, slowly, slowly and his music-worn hand was on his cheek. He knew those hands so well once upon a time, knew the calluses at his fingertips, had felt them drag across his belly underneath his tee shirt, felt them on his lips. He blinked and stood silently as Blaine’s thumb wiped at a spot on his cold cheek. Sebastian became aware of Hunter and David watching, he could feel the hush that fell over their conversation. He wondered if Hunter regretted begging him to come. Hunter had stood by on the sidelines when the two of them were involved, and had tried to pick up the pieces at their abrupt end. Hunter got to, once again, witness Sebastian’s downfall.

Just as fast as Blaine’s rough hand cradled his cheek, it dropped back to his side and Sebastian felt colder than he had all evening. “Thanks for that.” He muttered the words mostly to himself as he rubbed his own hand over the spot. “Same to you.” Sebastian watched as Blaine hurried through the party. He noticed that he didn’t stop to say goodbye to anybody. Blaine had changed a lot in the past few years, that was for sure. Sebastian never thought he’d witness Blaine shy away from attention or the chance to work a room with his bright smile and easy going charm.

Sebastian decided that he had had enough of the party and the reunions and took off as Hunter tried to walk over. His friend was talking but Sebastian had ignored him with a hand up in the air. Sebastian weaved through the bodies inside of the apartment and ignored everybody that called out to him, though it was only a few people since most knew better. He could feel Hunter following but didn’t turn around, instead he chose to basically throw himself down the stairs and run into a cab that was waiting for somebody else. Sebastian was faster than Hunter, he could lose him. He shoved a fifty towards the driver and gave him the address of a random club he knew he could score boys and free drinks and drugs at, “and hurry.”

He lit a cigarette outside of the club and exhaled into the bitter air. He shoved his free hand in his pocket and let the nicotine wash over his nerves. Sebastian could hear the bass from the club reverberate through the air around him. He wasn’t going to cry. He wasn’t going to scream or send any shitty messages. He was going to finish this cigarette, get some guy to buy him a few rounds, maybe do a few lines in the bathroom, dance until his thighs burned in a wash of colorful lights, and end up in the bed of a guy with dark hair but not the right eyes.

/fin.

#seblaine #seblaine canon divergence #seblaine para #para: memories #seblaine rp #para

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deadlybeautydbz · 7 years

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Something Just Like This

So I was inspired to write this little dribble after I heard the new song ‘Something Just Like This’ by the Chainsmokers feat. The dude from Coldplay. It seems to me, like it’s the perfect song to describe 18’s budding relationship with Krillin, plus its catchy af. If you haven’t heard it yet, go look it up on YouTube and have a listen and let me know what you think!

Story is under the cut, hope you all enjoy it!

Something Just Like This

Capsule Corp was the space of a million changing faces. Krillin swore every time he came here, it was an entirely different place. Tonight, it looked nothing like the high tech company it touted itself as during the daylight hours. Music thumped all around him, muffling the sounds of people chatting and laughing as the free-flowing booze ate away at their inhibitions.

Bulma was throwing yet another party for… reasons. Krillin had no idea what the occasion was, but the alcohol was free and provided a welcome distraction from the thoughts that seemed to cycle endlessly through his head these days. Not to mention that facing the wrath of Bulma if you snubbed an invitation from her was not even close to worth the bother.

It was a warm night. The summer air was sticky and Krillin was regretting wearing jeans instead of his usual shorts. He finished his beer and discarded the empty bottle on the ground beside him. Slowly, his eyes scanned the crowd, searching for a familiar face. It didn’t take long for him to find one. Yamcha. Pushing his way through the crowd, with a gaggle of young girls following behind him.

They made eye contact and Yamcha waved and broke into a jog. Krillin stood up from the grassy hill he had been perched on, and met his friend halfway across the party.

“Bro!” Yamcha clapped his hand against Krillin’s back. “How the hell have you been, my man?” he asked, but kept right on talking before Krillin had a chance to reply.

“This is Candii,” Yamcha kissed the cheek of the brunette on his left arm. “And this is Monique” he repeated the gesture with the red head to his right. “Girls, this is my best mate, Krillin.”

Krillin smiled and nodded at each of them. “Nice to meet you both,” he said and grabbed two fresh beers from a passing waiter. Handing one to Yamcha, he asked, “What have you been up to? It’s been a while.”

The group forced awkward small talk as best as they were able to over the music. It seemed to be getting louder with each song that was played. When the topic of conversation eventually drifted, as it always did, to old times the girls unsurprisingly quickly lost interest. Monique twirled her fingers lazily through Yamcha’s hair. Candii leaned in and whispered something into his ear. She nibbled on his earlobe as she pulled away, and Krillin tried desperately to look anywhere but at the uncomfortable PDA unfolding in front of him.

The blush that instantly rushed up Yamcha’s cheeks gave Krillin a pretty good idea of what Candii had suggested they go and do next, and Yamcha, being the slightly inebriated ladies’ man that he was, was hardly going to turn down such an offer. “You coming, man?” he asked as Candii started to pull him through the crowd.

Krillin laughed and took a very long sip from his beer. “I’m fine here dude.” He shook his head. “You go do… whatever it is you’re about to do. I really don’t want to know.” They had already disappeared by the time Krillin had finished his sentence, but Monique lingered for a second longer.

“That’s too bad,” she said, and ran her index finger from the waistband of Krillin’s jeans, up over his stomach and chest and finally across his lips. “We could have some really great fun together, the four of us.”

“Thanks for the offer.” Krillin took a step backwards, putting a large, totally obvious gap between himself and this bizarre situation. “I’m flattered really, but I’m uh…” he paused. What was he, exactly? “It’s complicated,” he eventually settled for.

“Well I don’t do complicated,” Monique flipped her long red hair over her shoulder. She leaned in and kissed Krillin on the cheek before he was able to do anything to stop it. “Come and find us if you’re interested in something simple. It will be fun, I promise,” she said before melting away into the mess of bodies on the dance floor.

—

“Remind me why you’re throwing this party again?” 18 asked. Her chin was resting lazily in her palm, where she sat with Bulma, propped up at the bar. Bulma skulled something pink from her sugar rimmed cocktail glass before replying. “We’re supporting a local homelessness charity,” she said, and motioned to the bartended for another drink. “And it’s a tax write-off” she quickly added before distracting 18 by ordering a round of shots for everyone who happened to be hovering nearby the bar.

Never one to back down from a challenge, 18 took her shot and swallowed it in one brave gulp. “Blech,” she scrunched her face up. “What the fuck was that? Petrol?”

“Oh lighten up,” Bulma laughed and playfully punched 18 in the arm. “It’s vodka. Is Krillin here?” she asked. The alcohol was already starting to swim through her veins.

18 craned her neck to look over the sea of people, not that she’d have any chance of spotting his short ass in that crowd. “I dunno?” she shrugged her shoulders. “I assume so, if you invited him.”

“What?!” Bulma seemed shocked. “You didn’t come together? You mean he still hasn’t made his move?” she slammed her glass down on the bar, and placed her hands on her hips. This was her boss mode. And nobody messed with Bulma when she was in her boss mode. “I’m going to go and find that boy and knock his lights out!”

18 rolled her eyes. Everyone in this ragtag group of ‘friends’ she had managed to cobble together was such a baby. “Don’t do that,” she pleaded, hoping that Bulma was still sober enough to reason with.

Bulma scoffed, all but ignoring 18’s request. “We’re friends 18,” she said, and smiled. “And even if we weren’t, we’re women, and us women need to stick together and look out for each other.”

“I don’t really need….” 18 trailed off when it became clear that Bulma wasn’t listening to a word she said. She waved the bartender down and grabbed herself a fresh beer, stuffed a lemon wedge down its neck, and returned her chin to its former resting place in her palm. She sighed loudly, but Bulma either didn’t hear her, or, and this was much more likely, was actively choosing to ignore her.

It still sounded strange to hear Bulma say they were friends, but as time ticked past, 18 was forced to admit that that was indeed what they appeared to be. It was Bulma of all people, who had reached out to 18 after the whole Cell fiasco had died down just over a year ago. She’d invented some sort of contraption to find both herself and her brother, and had sought them out herself, showing up out of the blue one day to whatever hole in the ground 18 had been living in at the time. The initial driving factor behind their meeting had been Bulma’s insatiable scientific curiosity, but after 18 had made it violently clear that she was never, ever going to step foot into any kind of a lab ever again, Bulma’s regular curiosity had kicked in and the rest was more or less history. She was full on, but 18 could tell that she was a decent enough person. Her taste in men was a total disaster, but that was another issue entirely.

“There he is!” Bulma proclaimed.

And then there was Krillin. 18 knew he’d had a crush on her since before he even really knew her. She didn’t have the faintest idea why, however. It hadn’t taken long for Bulma to decide to play matchmaker between her two friends, which went just about as well as anyone could have expected. Krillin was a bumbling idiot. She hid her insecurities behind a veil of aloofness – it was awful for everyone involved.

But after that horrendous first encounter, there was a second, and then a third and slowly, Krillin got over his nerves, and she got over her need to be a total bitch to everyone and some sort of an actual friendship started to grow. Now it was starting to evolve into something else. Something more. “What’s he doing?” 18 asked without looking up from her drink “Talking to Yamcha and two unidentified floozies.” Bulma had made a pair of binoculars with her hands and was glaring through them with too much concentration to be joking.

Floozies? 18 came to stand beside Bulma, where she was able to pick Krillin out from the crowd. Sure enough, there he was, talking to Yumcha and the two unidentified women, who were most definitely floozies. She crossed her arms over her chest and watched the interaction unfold, from here, she could have eaves-dropped on the conversation if she wanted, but 18 respected Krillin more than that.

“Ohmygosh, what’s she doing?!” Bulma shrieked, and adjusted her fake binoculars. “18, she’s touching him!” Bulma was in a complete tizzy. “Wha… what’s she doing? She KISSED him!”

18 took a deep breath. This was about to get ugly. “Bulma, wait!” 18 grabbed hold of Bulma’s arm, stopping her from going down there and sorting Krillin out herself. She’d probably beat the shit out of him, and he would have let her, too. Krillin would never in a million years hit a girl. Especially a girl whom Vegeta was borderline psychotically protective of.

“Just stop.” Bulma turned back to look at 18 with her big, sad eyes, and 18 realised she’d been excited to go and start something. Maybe that’s how they’d managed to become friends. This was neither the time, nor the place for a fight though. “I’ll go and talk to him, okay.”

“Fine,” Bulma pouted and plonked herself back down at the bar. — “Hey.”

Krillin’s eyes shot up. That voice was unmistakable, it filled his dreams every night. “Oh, hey,” he motioned for 18 to sit down beside him on the lawn, trying to play it cool. “I didn’t know you’d be here. You look nice.” It was true, she was wearing a pair of black shorts and a flowy yellow top, and she always looked divine in yellow.

Taking up his offer, 18 settled in beside Krillin on the grass. They sat in awkward silence for a minute, watching everyone thrashing around on the dancefloor. “I saw that, you know.”

Krillin’s whole body tensed up. 18 didn’t have to explain herself any further. “It wasn’t what it looked like, honestly.”

“Bulma was about to come down here and kill you. I just save your life.” “Well I guess that makes us even then.”

“What?” 18 asked.

“I stomped on that remote, you stopped Bulma from ripping my head off. You can go about your life with a clean conscious now. No need to waste all your time hanging around with me anymore waiting for the opportunity to pay me back.”

There it was, that self depreciated humour that Krillin always seemed to hide behind. It was ridiculous and a little bit insulting. “What did that woman want?” 18 chose to ignore the ridiculous statement.

“Heh.” Reclining back onto his palms, Krillin shook his head. “An orgy I think,” he laughed as 18’s face twisted into a look of shocked horror. “I know, I was surprised to say the least.”

“What did you say?”

“Well I’m still sitting here, aren’t I? Does that really sound like something I’d do?” It didn’t. Krillin was nothing if not a gentleman, and floozies weren’t his type. And she was sure that that would be more of Yamcha than he would ever want to see. “Do you really think I only spend time with you out of obligation?” the words were out of 18’s mouth before she even had a chance to consider them.

A tidal wave of nausea rolled through Krillin’s stomach. Nerves bubbled up inside of him. Important conversations were so not his strong suit. “I mean…” he started ripping blades of grass from the ground, avoiding eye contact. “Yeah, kinda. No, that makes you seem cold and that’s not what I mean.” Krillin was rambling now. “Just… why would someone like you be interested in someone like me?”

Was he serious? They had well and truly progressed past ‘just friends’ by now, to what Oolong described as ‘friends-with-benefits’, and Krillin was throwing out this crap? “Why the hell are you making this so difficult?” 18 glared at Krillin until he couldn’t stand the feeling of her eyes boring into him any longer and he finally turned to face her.

“Making what difficult?” he asked, sheepishly.

“Everything!” 18’s exasperation was evident in her voice. Was he really going to make her spell this out to him? “We spend almost all of our time together, you dumbass. We have sex and then I hang around and make you breakfast!” Maybe it was the four or nine beers she had had speaking, but 18 was feeling bolder than usual tonight, and she was putting her foot down about where this quasi-relationship was headed once and for all. “I watched that woman kiss you and I felt so jealous. I’ve never felt like that before. It confirmed what I’ve been thinking for a while now…” 18 trailed off, hoping that Krillin would take the bait. “What’ve you been thinking?” he asked, completely missing the hint.

“That I want to be the only one who gets to kiss you. You don’t care about the fucking mess that is my past, and you make me not care about it so much either. I’m happy when I’m with you, and that’s honestly not something I ever thought I’d feel. I don’t just want to be your friend anymore Krillin. I want us to be more than that.”

Krillin opened his mouth, but no words came out. He um’d and ah’d, stumbling around trying to find something to say before seeming to just give up. He exhaled and his shoulders slumped. There was no way around it. “Don’t be silly,” he mumbled. “I’m not good enough for you, 18”

That was not the reaction 18 had been expecting. She was shocked and hurt to say the least. She stood up and began to walk away, trying to hide her silent fury. It didn’t work. She got maybe 10 steps, before she whipped back around and unleashed on poor, unsuspecting Krillin. “What gives you the right to go around deciding what is and isn’t ‘good enough’ for me?” she asked, air-quoting for emphasis.

“I’m going to walk away now, and I’m going to give you five minutes to think about why that is so god-damn insulting, and when I get back, you’d better have something better than that to say.” Her tone of voice was scathing and left no room for arguments.

Krillin could only watch in confused awe as 18 stomped away across the party, and only one thought looped through his head. Had he just rejected the love of his life? - True to her word, five minutes later, 18 was back. “Here,” she said, and thrust an icy cold beer towards Krillin. She sat down and watched him skull almost the entire bottle in one enormous gulp.

The sun had set now, and most people had migrated to the dance floor. Krillin and 18 could feel the bass shaking the ground underneath them from where they sat on the grassy slope. Above them, a million fairy lights begun to sparkle, and if you squinted your eyes just right, they almost looked like the stars that lit up the night sky above Kame Island. Bulma really went all out for these things.

“I’m sorry, about what I said,” Krillin got the ball rolling. 18 seemed to accept his apology, because she didn’t immediately punch him in the face, so he pushed on. “It’s just… these last few months have been awesome. Like, so, so great, I’ve been happier than I’ve been in, I don’t know… ever.”

He stopped and waited for 18 to say something, but she obviously hadn’t heard what she wanted to hear yet, and stayed silent, forcing him to continue. “Like I said, it’s been great. Having you around the island has been awesome, getting to know you is amazing. Everything seems so perfect at the moment. I’m scared if we become official I’ll ruin it…”

“How could you possibly ruin it?” 18 asked. “It’s not like anything would really change. I’m not asking to marry you, or move in or anything. This arrangement was never going to last forever anyway. Either we move forward, or it stops altogether. I like what we’ve got, and I don’t really want it to stop, so it seems the only real option we have is moving forward.”

“Well, when you put it like that…” Krillin drifted off into thought mid-sentence. “Doesn’t it bother you that I’m not rich, tall and handsome?”

“I think you’re handsome,” 18 said, with a cheeky smirk. “And no, I don’t care that you’re not rich or tall,” she continued. “Look, you know I’m not good at all this emotional stuff. And I’m probably butchering this whole thing, but I hope I haven’t been so off the mark this entire time that you honestly don’t know how I feel about you?”

“No!” Krillin blurted out, wanting to squash 18’s insecurities before they had a chance to take off. “No, that’s not it at all. Believe me, this has nothing whatsoever to do with you.”

“I kinda feel like it has everything to do with me.”

“Well, okay,” Krillin laughed. “Yeah. But my insecurities are my own. They have nothing to do with you, I promise. You should know that I come with a lot of baggage, and that I’m not always going to be someone who’s easy to love. I’m not trying to dissuade you from doing this or anything, quite the opposite in fact. I just want to make sure you know what you’re getting yourself into with me.”

“Hmmm,” 18 thought about how best to proceed. “Well, Krillin, I appreciate your concern, but I can assure you that I’m a big girl and fully capable of making my own decision. And right now, I’m choosing you. If I change my mind in the future I’ll be sure to let you know.”

“Alright then.” Krillin let himself lay back on the grass. Without a word, 18 lay down beside him, and rested her head on his chest. Krillin wrapped his arm around 18’s shoulder and kissed the top of her head. They had lay like this a hundred times before, but this time, with the bass thumping through their bodies like a heartbeat, it felt different. A new beginning.

“So, you’re my girlfriend now, hey?” Krillin mused, gazing up at the twinkling fairy lights.

“Yep. And you’re my boyfriend.” 18 replied. She’d had a fair bit to drink and her world was starting to spin a little, but Krillin’s warm body was like an anchor, keeping her still and safe, and that was all she had ever wanted. It was funny, nothing had really changed tonight, and yet all of a sudden, everything felt completely different. For the first time in her life, 18 was excited to find out what her future held, and she knew that if it was going to be anything like this moment right now, it was going to be great.

- The End.

Short and sweet and I hope you enjoyed it! I’m not sure if I should post this to FFN as a standalone story or as part as the prompt series. It wasn’t a prompt from anyone, but I’m not sure if it’s meaty enough to stand as its own thing. What do you think??

As always, if you liked what you read, like and reblogs are super appreciated. Message me any time peeps, I love talking dragonball, and K18 and am always taking prompt ideas! I’m still working on my 17 story too, but I got a little bit stuck in the middle act, but I think I’m working my way through it, so hopefully that won’t be very far away either!

Big Love! D.B

#krillin #Android 18 #K18 #k18 fanfic #DBZ #dragon ball super #DBS #otp #Otp fanfic #dbz fanfic #dbz fandom #fanfiction #fanfic #deadlybeautyfanfiction #dragon ball z

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