Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sex with Julian Larson was indescribable. It set his soul on fire and brought him to the brink of his reality without letting him topple over. He had his first sip that one fleeting December night in Paris—and he had been utterly intoxicated since.

Julian’s fingers dug into his back, in his arms, his voice a low moaning chant of Sebastian’s name—a hushed whisper of sacrilegious prayer in a worship only they shared—a leg hooked over Sebastian’s shoulder as they rocked together. His hands firmly gripped the bedding beneath him, keeping them steady with each thrust. Sebastian could no longer feel the musty heavy air between them of an unusual late-September heat wave that plagued Westerville or the sweat that dripped down Sebastian’s skin and mingled with Julian’s. All his senses were dominated by the superstar threatening to go full supernova beneath him.

Sebastian could feel the wave of his orgasm grow with each thrust inside of Julian, and it took everything he had to hold it at bay. That is, until Julian cursed sharply, his back arching up off the bed, and Sebastian felt his climax before he saw it, and his own quickly crashed around him. Sebastian choked on it, as if he were drowning, his breath coming out in shuddering gasps. It took him a moment to steady himself, steady his breathing before he kissed the inside of Julian’s knee, leaning back and letting the leg that had dug into his back flop onto the mattress. He rolled the condom off (this was always his least favorite part; it was always so sticky) and deposited it into the trash can placed strategically beside his bed.

“Holy shit, Sebastian,” he heard Julian breathe, his voice just as shaky as Sebastian felt.

“Holy shit, indeed, we could make a religion out of that,” Sebastian replied with a smirk, lying down next to Julian. He was absolutely changing his sheets tonight; they were soaked in sweat. Usually at this point, Julian would roll into the crook of his shoulder, fitting against him like a puzzle piece, but they were too hot and exhausted to do it now.

“I’m going to miss this,” Julian sighed, his arm raising to cover his forehead as if he was blocking his eyes from nonexistent sunshine. Or perhaps something else.

“Miss this?” Sebastian asked, confused. Julian glanced at him, a guilty look crossing his face for half a second before it was gone, making Sebastian wonder if he saw it in the first place.

“Didn’t I tell you? I have to fly out next week to film,” Julian answered, his voice infuriatingly neutral. Sebastian chewed on his lower lip, and he regretted having this conversation immediately after sex—it made it a lot harder to hide the emotion in his voice.

“You didn’t tell me,” Sebastian said, hoping Julian didn’t notice the slight shake in his voice, or if he did, attributed it to the physical exertion they just did. He knew it was selfish of him to want Julian all to himself—Paris was an anomaly. An unusual opportunity for Julian to shirk responsibilities and live recklessly without much consequence. They were in the real world now, with real consequences, and Sebastian had to obey them. Even if it made his gut twist horribly.

“I’ll only be gone a month—two tops if everyone there is hopelessly incompetent,” Julian said, and he sat up, looking for his clothes that were scattered across Sebastian’s floor. He looked back at Sebastian with a staged smile that made Sebastian want to scream. “Plus, this is just a casual thing, right? No strings attached.”

“No strings,” Sebastian repeated, staring at Julian, wondering if he was looking at a wooden puppet that had deluded itself into thinking it was a real boy. Julian stepped into the bathroom to clean himself off, coming out fully dressed.

“I have to meet with the dean about my online assignments,” Julian ran a hand through his hair to flatten it down. He swept over to the bed that Sebastian still lay in and kissed his forehead with a cheeky grin. “Don’t miss me too much, okay?”

Sebastian, much to his own chagrin, did miss him too much.

“Sebastian,” Bailey’s patience limit for his moody roommate was nonexistent. “You have a bed. And a desk. Why are you sitting on the floor again?”

Sebastian stared down into what was probably his fourth (or fifth?) glass of red wine. Julian had left early that morning, bidding farewell to only Derek and Logan, and the sting of rejection Sebastian felt from that went deep. This was why Sebastian Smythe didn’t do relationships. He felt pathetic, getting emotional like this over a guy—especially one who was more emotionally closed off than he was. “’S comfy.”

Sebastian heard Bailey sigh and rummage around his things before sitting down next to his morose roommate, handing him a plate with bread and jam on it. “Eat it. You need to soak up all wine I know you’ve been drinking on an empty stomach.”

He was grateful that he was assigned to room with Bailey, he wasn’t sure he could handle anyone else seeing him like this—face splotchy from crying, drinking far too much alcohol, and then crying some more. Sebastian took a bite from the bread, feeling a queasiness in his stomach start to soothe, though he wasn’t sure if it was from the food or Bailey’s kindness. “You think I’m being ridiculous.”

“Well… yes,” Bailey admitted, but he quickly continued at the sight of Sebastian’s face. “But not in the way you think I do.”

A hesitant bite. “What do you mean?”

“I think you’ve John Green-ed yourself.”

“What.”

“You’ve built up this person in your head that doesn’t exist, like a John Green heroine. Someone whose perfect and wonderful and isn’t afraid to show emotions off camera, but the truth is far uglier, and you end up setting yourself up to get hurt.”

Sebastian picked at the crust of his bread, chewing over Bailey’s words. “He wasn’t like this. Before.”

“You may not think so, and maybe he wasn’t for a little while, but I’ve known Julian for almost four years, and I can say with full confidence—he’s always been like this. Doesn’t mean he can’t change, he absolutely can, but…” Sebastian felt Bailey’s hand on his knee. “Right now, he’s not physically, mentally, or emotionally ready for the level of commitment that you want.”

Sebastian felt a lump grow in his throat, and his vision blurred from tears again. He knew Bailey was right—he was annoyingly right almost all the time—but it didn’t make it any easier to hear. Bailey must’ve noticed because he scooted closer until their sides were pressed together and his cheek squished slightly against Sebastian’s shoulder. “I hate seeing you like this, Bas. It’s senior year, you should be out having fun and not caring what anyone has to say or think.”

Sebastian sniffed, wiping at his face with the sleeve of his hoodie that had likely become crusty. “Does this mean I can deepthroat every hot guy I see?”

Bailey sighed with the weight of a thousand lifetimes of putting up with Sebastian. “I don’t see how that’s fun, and we do not need another gonorrhea scare—”

“I’m kidding, Bail,” Sebastian snorted, grinning a little. “Mostly.”

Bailey elbowed his ribs. For someone so soft and kind, his elbow was as sharp as a nail. “Go wash your face, I’ll order take out and then it’s my turn to pick a movie.”

“But I am in distress, Bailey. Can’t I pick??”

“No. I am one more obscure black and white French film from picking up chain-smoking and lurking in dark corners like a creep. We’re watching a Pixar movie, so I can remember what it feels like to feel joy during a movie again.”

Sebastian let out a dramatic groan but set his plate aside so he could stand up, his joints aching from the effort and for sitting on a hardwood floor for too long. He paused briefly to drop a light kiss to the top of Bailey’s soft curls. “Thanks, by the way. For being a good friend. I know I don’t make it easy, but… thanks.”

Bailey grinned up at him, an impish smile that Sebastian knew he got from living with him. “You’re right, you don’t make it easy, but you’re a wizard in the kitchen, which is why I’m more than happy to keep you around.”

Sebastian laughed and headed into the bathroom. He was going to mourn Julian Larson and what he thought they had tonight, but tomorrow was a new day—and he was dead set on enjoying it and the rest of his senior year to the absolute fullest.

Chapter Text

Sebastian had exactly two hobbies of note at Dalton Academy: cooking for his roommate, Bailey, and annoying his peers. Particularly those of his peers who lived in Stuart Hall. Even more particularly Logan and Derek. Their fuse was shorter than Julian’s cat’s, Sneakers, legs and just as amusing to watch. It’d taken him more effort to rile up Reginald during finals season when he had been a single espresso and unexpected question away from full on meltdown than it did for either Logan or Derek—the latter especially as the early acceptance deadline loomed. Derek was wound up so tight that Sebastian could hear the elastic holding him together start to fray.

“Do you ever take a break?” Sebastian asked over the kitchen counter while Derek went over his essay for what must’ve been the thirtieth time. “Or do you just enjoy being stressed and miserable like some emotional masochist?”

“I’ll take a break when I’m dead,” Derek deadpanned. Logan, seemingly trying to enjoy what remaining shred of peacefulness the morning offered, rolled his eyes.

 “D, you’ve been staring at that document all week like it’s going to jump out of the screen and walk itself to Harvard. You need to chill, and that coming from me should tell you something,” Logan said.

“I just want to make sure it’s perfect.”

“It is.”

“You don’t know that.” Derek replied. Logan groaned in defeat and slid off the bar stool, giving up on whatever peaceful morning he thought he could have.

“If you die of a heart attack before prom, I’m not asking Houston to resurrect your sorry ass,” he called as he stalked off.

“Some friend you are!”

Sebastian snorted, watching Derek for a little while edit, then re-edit, then go back and change his edits back to what was originally there. “How do you relieve stress even? Yoga? Big ass bag of weed—”

“None of your business, Sebastian.”

Sebastian responded by reaching over before Derek could react (which wasn’t hard—his senses were dulled from days of little sleep) and slammed his laptop closed, narrowly missing Derek’s fingers.

“What the fuck?!”

Sebastian sighed but kept his hand firmly on top of the laptop to keep Derek from prying it open. “You have got to relax, Seigerson.”

Derek narrowed his eyes at the Stuart across the counter. “That’s ironic coming from you, seeing as you’ve seemed to make it your life mission to be the biggest thorn in my side.”

“Only because you make it so fun to be,” Sebastian answered, not stopping the flirtatious tone in his voice.

“I have no idea why Julian seems to have a soft side for you, you’re the biggest asshole I’ve unfortunately met,” Derek muttered, and Sebastian was very careful not to let his expression change at the mention of the actor’s name. He hadn’t heard from Julian since he left for the movie shoot, nor had he responded to Sebastian’s texts. That being said, Julian was out of sight and out of mind now, he had bigger things to focus on.

“I am a delight to be around, and an even better lay, that’s why,” Sebastian said with a smirk. “Maybe that’s what you need—I’ve noticed you haven’t kept up your small army of girlfriends recently.”

Derek yanked his laptop free from Sebastian’s grasp. “If you’re offering, the answer is hell no.”

“Don’t say it’s because you’re straight because straight boys don’t kiss like you did that one night,” Sebastian purred, watching the color rise in Derek’s cheeks. It had been right before the first week of the fall semester when the Stuarts came together for an impromptu Back-to-School bash that quickly descended into a chaotic rager when a couple of the seniors brought out bottles of cheap and disgusting alcohol, unleashing the pent-up aggression and something else that lurked beneath the Stuarts’ surface. Sebastian may have contributed to the chaos, remembering the night through the warm bubbly haze of alcohol. It had been a fun night, one of the very few he’d had since starting at Dalton Academy.

“I was tipsy, and it was truth or dare,” Derek retorted with a little too much force.

“You used tongue.”

“What are you even suggesting, Sebastian?” Derek sounded exasperated. “I thought you were seeing Julian.”

“First,” Sebastian raised a finger in the air. “Julian and I are not seeing each other. We just enjoy each other’s company. Preferably without clothes on.”

“Did not need to know that.”

“Second,” he raised a second finger. “What I am suggesting is that I help you out with some stress relief and seeing as you’ve been blacklisted from every young woman between the ages of 15 and 21 in a hundred-mile radius from here, I think you might need it.”

Derek leaned forward slightly, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Fuck. I hate that I’m considering this…”

Sebastian grinned. “But…?”

“But,” Derek sighed in defeat. “I’ve been in a drought for forever, and I hate it.”

“I’m not asking you to wine and dine me, Derek. It’s just sex.”

Derek looked up, meeting Sebastian’s gaze, his jaw set. “Fine. But we’re doing this my way.”

“Kinky.”

“Sebastian. You’ll meet me in my room after class today. We won’t talk about this again afterwards, especially to Logan, nor will it happen again.”

“Bossy. I like it,” Sebastian said, making Derek glare at him. “Though I cannot promise it won’t happen again, I do have quite a few repeat customers.”

“It will not.”

Sebastian chuckled. “We’ll see about that, mon cher. Text me whenever you’re ready.”

He sauntered off, feeling Derek’s gaze on him as he did. It was a powerful feeling, to be desired on a deep physical level by another person. To know that the feeling of Want coursed through their veins and choosing to hold back, like dangling a carrot just out of reach. He had relished in it back in Paris, being the desired, yet difficult to attain one in his social circles, and he was starting to fear that he had lost it in his misguided attempt to become monogamous (ew).

meet me in my room. -D

Came the text near the end of Sebastian’s final period.  He grinned to himself when he saw it and watched the clock out of the corner of his eye, wishing for the last fifteen minutes to finish faster than he did his first time.

When the bell did ring, he did take his time getting to Derek’s room, not in any hurry to make it back to Stuart. He knew how to make anticipation build—the power of making someone wait in the final few moments before letting them have what they really wanted. And with someone as touch starved as Derek, it worked like a charm.

“You sure take your sweet ass time,” Derek growled, pulling him inside his room after the first knock. “You’re lucky I didn’t have second thoughts and call this off.”

Sebastian laughed, dropping his bag and blazer by the door, loosening his tie. “What can I say? Lady Luck is quite the fan of me.”

Derek did not laugh, rubbing the back of his neck, looking around the room and at anywhere except Sebastian. He cleared his throat, “I’m not sure where to—"

Sebastian rolled his eyes; for someone whose reputation boasted of being a connoisseur of the more carnal pleasures in life, he seemed as lost as someone who had never done this before. “Get on the bed, Derek.”

“Bossy.” But Derek obliged, sitting down on his bed, which was neatly made, hospital corners and all. Sebastian looked forward to messing it up. He rolled up his sleeves before pushing Derek back lightly, his fingertips pressing into his chest. He lay back, Sebastian straddling his lap, looking up at the other Stuart skeptically.

“Look, I’m not sure how comfortable I am with bottoming—”

“Oh my god, Derek, relax,” Sebastian chuckled, leaning down until their faces were only inches apart. He could hear Derek’s breath hitch as he set one warm hand on his chest, the other propping himself up. “We’re not going to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

Derek sighed a breath of relief. “Good because I mmph—!"

Sebastian dove under, capturing Derek’s mouth with his own, effectively shutting him up. It was different than that night of truth or dare earlier that semester, Derek had tasted of alcohol and kissed with sloppy curiosity—exploring a part of himself whose borders had been knocked down by cheap whiskey and a dare from Julian. Now there was a surety and exactness that was wholly Derek. Sebastian felt Derek’s fist twist up into his shirt, pulling him closer. Sebastian responded by rolling his hips down, and Derek moaned into the kiss despite himself.

“You really do need this,” Sebastian said when they pulled away. Derek glared up at him, but the flush of his cheeks and the wildness in his eyes gave him away. He was barely reining himself in, and Sebastian was eagerly anticipating pushing him straight over the edge.

Sebastian kissed lightly along his jaw, his fingertips pushing underneath Derek’s waistband, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Derek squirmed underneath him, impatient for Sebastian to fill every last one of his senses until there was no room left for stress. Sebastian moved down, slowly kissing down his neck, careful not to leave any marks behind, his hands never going south of his hips. At least, not yet.

“You’re going to be the death of me, Sebastian Smythe,” Derek breathed, his voice slightly strained. It wasn’t the only thing about him that was strained, Sebastian noted with glee.

“If I had a dollar every time I heard that,” Sebastian laughed against Derek’s sternum, his thumb rubbing torturously slow circles in Derek’s hipbone. The Stuart underneath him rolled his hips up despite of himself, his self-control fading quickly to ash under Sebastian’s heat.

“Patience, baby,” he murmured as he started to unbuckle Derek’s pants. “It is a virtue.”

“There is nothing virtuous about that mouth of yours.” Derek’s retort came.

Sebastian chuckled and settled himself in between Derek’s thighs. He’d be lying if he hadn’t thought (and dreamed) about the possibility of being in this situation—Derek’s soccer and track sculpted thighs, like a Michelangelo statue brought to life. A culmination of athletic masculine power rippling underneath the warm skin, thrumming with energy only rivaled by the sun. No wonder the Greeks gazed upon men like Derek and saw the children of gods.

He mouthed at the bulge straining against the cold metal zipper of his pants, and Derek let out a muffled groan, his leg twitching. His calloused hands gripped at the covers underneath them, knuckles turning white as Sebastian pulled his pants and boxers down, freeing the touch-deprived cock within. Sebastian took a moment to marvel at it—god, he loved men.

“Sebas—” Derek’s annoyed and impatient sentence was cut off when Sebastian took the entire length in his mouth, the flat of his tongue dragging along the underside. Derek could not hold back the moan this time, and it rattled deep down into his bones. He took his time coming back up, drinking Derek in like a long drink after days lost in an endless desert. Derek’s exhale came out in a hiss, and one of his hands found Sebastian’s hair, gripping tightly at the roots.

Sebastian looked up Derek as his came up to the top, seeing his head thrown back in pleasure, any thoughts of applications, deadlines, and Harvard all long forgotten. There was an art to giving the right blowjob, Sebastian had learned, and like all art, it was entirely subjective to the beholder. It did not take him long to notice a pattern—the right speed, intensity, and part to emphasize depending on the person he was blessing with his skill. It was a code with no cipher, only wordless noises, arches of the back, and tight grips of fingers, that told Sebastian how to best pull the other person apart to the very nucelli of their being.

His hands gripped onto Derek’s hips and thighs as he slowly and steadily tore Derek to shreds. He enthusiastically lapped up any beads of salty beads of precum that swelled at the tip, not allowing Derek a single moment of respite. He was a raging river to Derek’s crumbling cliffside, and he was going to tear him apart and dissolve his being until there was nothing left but pure pleasure.

Sebastian could sense Derek’s orgasm coming before Derek likely did—his breaths becoming heavier and more ragged through clenched teeth, the muscles in his thighs stiffening and relaxing with each breath. As it erupted powerfully to the surface, Derek suddenly and reflexively pushed Sebastian’s head down until the tip slammed against the back of Sebastian’s throat, hot seed spilling down like white hot lava. Sebastian had to clench his grip on Derek’s thighs to keep from gagging, but a jolt of pleasure rushed down his own spine.

Sebastian coughed after he came back up, propping himself up on his forearms, Derek’s hand limp in his hair, but it stiffened when he realized what he did.

“Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean—” Derek said in a near stutter, the words falling over themselves as his post-orgasm brain pieced reality together again. Sebastian laugh, a raspy sound that hurt his throat slightly.

“It’s more than fine,” he said, though the sound of his voice only made Derek wince. He cupped Sebastian’s face, looking adorably worried despite the wild hair and red cheeks.

“Are you sure?”

Sebastian kissed Derek’s palm before setting it on Derek’s chest. “Promise. It sounds worse than it feels.”

That was mostly a lie, but Sebastian took more pleasure in the pain than Derek would ever have the privilege of knowing. Sebastian sat up and wiped his mouth as Derek caught his breath, and he grinned down at him. Any tenseness in Derek’s face was gone, and even the severity of his eye bags had decreased slightly though it may had been just the light. Sebastian however, had a problem of his own he would need to take care of after this.

“You look relaxed,” he teased and was a little surprised when Derek laughed.

“Don’t let it get to your head, but you’re not bad at this,” Derek responded, reaching down to pull his pants back up.

“Oh, I fully intend to let my ego ride this for the rest of the week.”

“Knowing you, I don’t think that’s the only thing you’ll be riding.”

Sebastian nudged Derek’s knee playfully. “Is that an offer, Derek Seigerson?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Derek said, pushing himself to his elbows. His hair was an absolute mess, and Sebastian didn’t feel like pointing it out to him. The disheveled look was a good look for him. “My schedule’s pretty full, I still have to submit the application, and I am still technically straight.”

“Supposedly.”

“Mostly.”

“Well,” Sebastian subtly adjusted his pants before standing up. “If you need me again for more stress relief, you know where to find me.”

Derek sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, though he looked too wiped to stand any time soon. Most of the people Sebastian interacted with in this way usually were—a detail that Sebastian was very proud of. “With that mouth of yours, Smythe, you’ll likely have a waitlist longer than an Ivy League by the time I get back to you.”

“That’s the goal,” Sebastian said, picking up his things, pausing at the door before he left. “And Derek? Just submit the goddamn application already. Harvard would be stupid not to let you in.”

Derek’s smile was genuine this time, and it tugged at something within Sebastian that rather unfortunately felt like his heartstrings. He nodded and thanked Sebastian, who left before he made himself nauseous with all the emotion in the air. Right now, all he wanted and needed was a long hot shower…

Chapter Text

Contrary to many of the other students at Dalton, Sebastian quite liked Han. He found him interesting, the highest honor Sebastian could bestow in a sea of bland, uncooked slices of Wonder bread that attended the Academy. He had first met Han through Bailey—they co-ran a Lofi channel together on the side—and while he could tell he annoyed Han slightly, it wasn’t enough for Han to dislike Sebastian or kick him out, especially as Sebastian started to visit more often.

Han was quick witted and clever and one of the very few people at Dalton Academy who could verbally spare with Sebastian and win. Which is how, at least twice a week, Sebastian found himself in front of the Windsor’s door.

“Oh, Great and Powerful Oz!” he called out in front of the modified door. “I have come to seek thy wisdom!”

The door unlocked and a bespeckled young man stood in front of him, wearing an emerald green sweater and looking slightly exasperated. “You know, you are the only one here who refuses to use the Wonderland references.”

“The Wizard of Oz is a better story than Alice in Wonderland—they’re just too cowardly to admit it,” Sebastian huffed, stepping in the mist filled room and taking his usual place on the oversized beanbag in the corner.

“They’re the same story.”

“They are not!” Sebastian mimed looking incredibly offended as Han took his seat by the screens.

“Young girl gets lost in a weird ass world, stumbles around a bit, before waking up and realizing it was all a dream,” Han said, pushing his oversized glasses up.

“Hansel Westwood. My dear, dense friend. The Wizard of Oz is a rich story about an ordinary girl wanting something more being whisked far away, makes friends, and learns about inner power and what home really means along the way. Alice in Wonderland is a coked-up fever dream about a pre-teen tripping balls about a stack of playing cards,” Sebastian explained with the grandiose air of a Ted Talk speaker as he pulled out his laptop. He didn’t notice the long unreadable look Han gave him as he powered up the Sims.

“Well, I’m streaming in a couple of minutes if you want to stay,” Han said, turning back to the monitors.

“I’ll try not to do anything inappropriate,” Sebastian grinned at Han over his laptop screen as he set fire to Sim Logan. Again.

“Thank you, I know how challenging it must be for you,” Han retorted.

“You’d be surprised.”

Han turned in his chair to look at him, looking more intrigued than offended or irritated. Sebastian just smiled innocently at him, belying the composure of a person who did not own at least three butt plugs. “Go entertain your fans, Hansel.”

Han slipped on the headset, powering on the livestream. Sebastian quietly opened the same stream, keeping his computer muted. He knew he was absurdly vain and self-indulgent, but he did enjoy reading the chat’s reactions to him sitting there. After watching the initial reactions roll in (“wow who is that he’s so hot” and “does he have a stream because i’d honestly watch him read the phone book”) he switched back to the Sims, creating a Sims version of his elder brother, dialing the horniness level up to the maximum. If real life Reginald wasn’t going to try, Sebastian was going to make sure his virtual version would get some and hope that, through the power of osmosis and the internet, the energy would reach his real brother and he’d be less of an uptight pill. Sebastian half-listened to Han talk on the stream, answering questions and narrating what he was doing.

It was a weird little ritual they had, sitting in the same room, playing different games, and not talking to each other. It had all the potential to become awkward, but Sebastian enjoyed the weight of social expectations ease off him in this little room so removed from the rest of the campus. It reminded him of a treehouse he would play in as a child in their holiday home along the Mediterranean coast—where when the adult world got to be too much, he could just sit and be and watch the world go by underneath him. That treehouse was long gone, it had been built when his father was a small child, and the wood had rotten over the years of use and love from the young Smythes until it gave way under Sebastian’s feet one evening. He had broken his arm in the long fall to the hard ground and was lucky he didn’t suffer any worse injuries, but his distraught mother had demanded the rest be torn down completely. It was never rebuilt.

“No, he’s not my boyfriend,” Sebastian heard Han say, snapping him out of his reminiscing. He bit back a grin as Han continued, “I don’t think he even believes in relationships. He just likes to come and eat my food, like some stray back-alley cat.”

What an odd way to phrase that. He had always assumed Han was straight (given the sheer amount of anime titties in his room) and would never be interested in anything deeper than the odd little friendship that they had. Sebastian watched Han on the muted stream, observing the face that the web camera did not do any justice on. Han was not regarded by the others as conventionally attractive like Julian, Blaine, and Logan, but Sebastian found their tastes simplistic at best. They regarded Bailey the same, and Sebastian found Bailey to be one of the most beautiful people he’d ever met.

He pulled out his phone, staring at the text message screen before typing: Just because I’m not a relationship person doesn’t mean I don’t know what a hot piece of ass looks like. ;)

And send.

About five seconds later, he heard Han choke, then cough a little to try and cover up his raw, unfiltered reaction. His character on the screen, fittingly, also died, and Sebastian heard Han huff in annoyance.

“I’m having an off day, guys, I’m going to end the stream here. Maybe make some lunch or something and jump on again in a couple of hours,” he said, and the stream reacted in a mix of confusion and sadness. It was much earlier than Han had ever ended a stream, usually he was still streaming when Sebastian needed to return to his dorm. He swiveled around in his chair the moment the stream ended.

“Hot piece of ass??” He quoted, an eyebrow raised. Sebastian closed his laptop and leaned forward, elbows propped on the computer.

“How else would you like for me to say it? Flaming hot bod? Total waifu material?”

Han waved his hand, cutting Sebastian off. “Are you mocking me?”

His tone wasn’t accusatory but matter of fact. Like he was asking Sebastian the status of the stocks for the day and not if Sebastian was serious about being thirsty as all hell for him. Sebastian set his laptop down and sauntered over to Han’s computer chair.

“I am many things, Hansel—a flirt, a snob, and a total whore, but I am not cruel,” he leaned forward, hands on the arm rests, essentially trapping him in, their faces less than a foot apart. A flush of color started to appear on Han’s face, but his expression did not change. “I would not say something like that if I did not mean it.”

“I know you are not, but I had to ask,” Han replied coolly, his hands wrapping around Sebastian’s wrists. “It’s not often someone is so… forward with me.”

Sebastian chuckled, leaning forward and straddling Han’s lap. He could feel Han was already half-hard beneath the loose fabric of the black sweatpants he wore. Perfect. His voice lowered as he replied, “They really ought to be.”

Han leaned forward, catching Sebastian in a fiery kiss, his hands moving to Sebastian’s thighs. Sebastian responded enthusiastically, savoring the experience of someone being so eagerly hungry for him, his hands moving in Han’s hair, hips rolling down. The chair suddenly creaked ominously beneath them, obviously at its limit.

“We should probably move to the bed,” Han murmured, his lips brushing Sebastian’s. “I really like this chair.”

“Would it not be worth it?” Sebastian hummed, a hand slipping up underneath the sweater, fingers dancing across the warm skin.

“Absolutely, but this one took six months to get here,” Han said, and Sebastian chuckled as he eased off. Han was more than eager to follow him, nearly dragging Sebastian to the bed pushed up against the side of the room.

“One might think that you’ve been waiting for this, Mr. Westwood,” Sebastian said as he fell backwards against the bed. Han pulled the sweater off, depositing it unceremoniously on the floor. He crawled over Sebastian, a hand on Sebastian’s chest as he gently pushed him backwards.

“How could I not, when you look like that and are who you are,” Han murmured. Sebastian smiled, pulling Han down by his t-shirt, crashing their lips together. He tasted like the cherry energy drink he had every morning before class, and his warm body encircled Sebastian’s own with a weighted surety. Sebastian could feel his erection press against his torso and knew Han could feel his own.

“What do you want to do to me, baby?” Sebastian purred when Han pulled away, his fingertips ghosting doing Han’s neck and catching on the collar of his t-shirt, tugging it down slightly to expose the collarbone. Han let out a breathy chuckle.

“If we’re here, I think you know what I want, Bas,” Han replied, but when Sebastian just looked up at him expectantly, he leaned down to kiss up Sebastian’s jaw until his lips were brushing against Sebastian’s ear, and he shivered in spite of himself. “I would very much like to fuck you, Sebastian Smythe.”

Sebastian’s exhale hissed audibly through his teeth, and he rolled his hips up into Han’s. His body ached with need, it had been far too long since he had been on the receiving end, been the one pressed into the mattress and ferociously ravished. “Do you have… what we need?”

“I am assuming you mean condoms and lube, and yes, obviously I do,” Han said, so matter-of-fact that Sebastian almost laughed. He leaned over to the side of the bed and pulled out a very nondescript black container underneath. Sebastian watched with rapt attention as Han opened it to reveal a colorful assortment of… well, much more than Sebastian had.

“I need to come over more often,” Sebastian muttered, his cock twitched at the thought of using some of what lay in Han’s sin box. This had been under his bed the entire time?? How had Sebastian not noticed??? Han chuckled and pulled out a couple of condoms and a bottle of lube, closing the lid of the box and sliding it back underneath the bed.

“I’m sure you are much more familiar with the real thing than I am, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to satisfy my own needs,” he said, unbuckling Sebastian’s pants and pulling them down. And, damn, if that wasn’t the sexiest thing Sebastian had heard. Han squirted a generous amount of lube on his middle and ring fingers.

“You tell me if this hurts too much, okay? Knowing you, you probably like a little pain, but I don’t want to actually hurt you,” Han said, rubbing Sebastian’s inner thigh with his other hand, his lubed fingers pressing right against Sebastian’s entrance.

“I’ll be okay, baby, don’t worry about me. I’m tougher than I look,” Sebastian huffed with a smirk, moving to reach down and push Han’s fingers in himself when Han caught his wrist with his other hand. He kissed Sebastian’s palm as he slid the first finger inside him.

“You sure are tight for someone who is such a notorious slut,” Han mused, fucking Sebastian slowly with his middle finger. Sebastian would’ve retorted something teasingly, but his entire body was quivering with need, and all he wanted was more. The second finger came far too slowly for Sebastian’s liking, and he grinded his hips down against Han’s hand. Han’s fingers were wider than most of the other guys he slept with before, and the width of his fingers stretching him out was driving Sebastian wild.

“Patience, jeez,” Han snickered.

“Don’t wanna be patient.”

“Well, I do. I’ve been fantasizing this for too damn long to not want to savor it,” Han said, and Sebastian had to control his breathing, think about the sheer number of boobs in the room, anything to keep him from cumming right at that moment. Suddenly, and without warning, Han pulled his fingers out of Sebastian, who whined at how empty he felt. The bed moved as Han shifted to push his sweats down, quickly rolling a condom onto his hardened cock, lubing it down. He grabbed Sebastian’s thighs, positioning himself, yet holding back right before, as if he knew how crazy this would drive him.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?” Han smirked as Sebastian glared up at him a little. How dare he so quickly realize the power he had over Sebastian and utilize it against him. The nerve.

“Yes please,” Sebastian gritted out, and before the word finished pushing itself out of his mouth, Han thrusted deep inside Sebastian, and the words were quickly followed by a wordless moan. Han seemed just as affected, his face scrunched up as he propped himself above Sebastian, and Sebastian could see the millions of thoughts running through his head to keep himself controlled.

Han’s pace started out slow, as if Han was dipping his toe in to test the waters, but it picked up speed with Sebastian’s reactions and Han’s growing confidence as to what he was doing. Sebastian’s fingers dug into the soft flesh of Han’s sides as they moved together as one on the bed. The wooden frame creaked underneath them, and Sebastian wanted nothing more but for Han to pound him right into it until it snapped in half from the force.

Han was going a lot faster now, their sweat mingling in the cool air that Sebastian no longer felt. All of his senses were of Han’s thick fingers grabbing him, thick body around him, thick cock inside of him… Sebastian’s words tumbled out in a jumble of English and French curses and a lot of “fuck, baby”, and he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. Sebastian gripped at him, begging him to go faster, harder, and Han was more than happy to oblige, each thrust going deep into Sebastian’s bones, curling around them, and turning them into a fine powder. Sebastian knew he was likely going to be a little sore the next day but relished in the power that Han was fucking him with, the pent up energy all being released at once, like a supernova exploding outward, ejecting space dust into the far reaches of the cosmos.

Han finished before he did, letting out a strangled cry that sounded like it was supposed to be Sebastian’s name, riding out his orgasm with a few deep thrusts. Sebastian himself did not last much longer, his back arching as hot seed spilled over both of their torsos. Sebastian closed his eyes to catch his breath, the echoes of his orgasm ricocheting throughout his body. He felt Han shift, getting off of the bed, legs unsteady in the light of their activities. He stumbled over to his dresser, breath heavy, and grabbed an inhaler, taking a deep puff from it.

“Damn, baby, was I really so good that I took your breath away?” Sebastian teased, and Han made a face at the terrible joke.

“You got cum on both of our shirts,” Han retorted in response. Sebastian looked down and groaned when he saw the stain on his nice button up. That was going to be a bitch to get out.

“Here,” Han said, opening a drawer and pulling something out, handing it to Sebastian. “You can borrow one of mine. It’ll be slightly less obvious than going across campus with a giant semen stain down your front.”

The shirt, which was a blue Star Trek shirt, was too big for Sebastian, and it certainly did not look like his own. Sebastian looked up to thank Han when he caught him staring with a look in his eyes that said he was thinking some very dirty thoughts. Sebastian pulled on his pants as he knew absence made the heart (and other places) grow fonder.

“Thanks, Han. I’ll bring it back tomorrow,” he said, with a grin that implied that it wouldn’t be the only reason he’d be back. Han huffed, looking away before he gave himself another boner, fishing his own clothes out from the covers.

“I know you’re not into relationships, Sebastian, and I’m certainly smart enough to not start that level of commitment right now in my senior year, but you are welcome to come back,” Han said, a half grin on his face. “I’m certainly more than happy to have a repeat of that.”

Sebastian gathered his things, shooting a similar grin back at Han. “I would really like that. Even if you aren’t smart enough to see how the Wizard of Oz is superior in every way.”

“God, not that again!”

Sebastian laughed, leaning forward to kiss Han’s cheek. “Until next time, Oh Great and Powerful Wizard of Windsor.”

Chapter Text

Kurt and Blaine were only in their final year of high school, so young with their lives ahead of them; Sebastian did not understand the utter surprise that befell the entire school when the two called it quits as they neared the end of the first semester, yet the shockwave that followed could’ve been measured on the Richter scale.

It was as amicable as it could possibly be, as the stress of deciding their entire future had driven a wedge between Windsor’s so-called “power couple”. It was still endlessly awkward, like most high school exes, and while Sebastian was no longer witness to how uncomfortable the warblers practice must be, he did witness the amount of aspirin Logan went through on a regular basis after (“I can’t believe I liked either of them.” “That says a lot about your taste, Wright.” “Shut up, Smythe!”).

Sebastian was unfortunately partnered with Kurt for a history project within the last month remaining of the semester. Kurt seemed less than thrilled when he was assigned with Sebastian, and the feeling was absolutely mutual. Kurt had major Main Character Syndrome (probably caught it from that Rachel girl), and Sebastian had a nasty habit of romanticizing the unhealthiest parts of his life. There was bound to be some natural friction there. To be completely honest, Sebastian suspected that Kurt disliked him more than he disliked the Windsor, and he was mostly ambivalent towards him. The most heated that they got was being in the Warblers together. Sebastian did not take the Warblers seriously, and that did not make many friends in the group—particularly with Kurt, who was hellbound on getting into NYADA (why, Sebastian never understood, NYU was a perfectly good school) and saw his participation in the Warblers as his ticket in.

Kurt had texted him earlier to meet him in the library that, so they could finish their research PowerPoint as quickly as possible. Sebastian, naturally, showed up fifteen minutes late with a half-finished latte. Kurt shot him an irritated look when he noticed Sebastian saunter lazily up to the table he sat at.

“You’re late,” he said simply.

“I am simply still on Parisian time. You should learn that, seeing how much of a boner you have for the city in French class,” Sebastian said, peering down at Kurt over his sunglasses that sat low on his nose.

“Don’t be gross,” Kurt snapped, reaching over to pluck the glasses off Sebastian’s face. “I don’t even know why you take that class, you’re fluent in the language.”

Sebastian snatched his glasses back, leaning back in his chair. “Have you ever heard of an easy A, or are you just as much of an academic masochist as you are emotionally?”

Kurt sighed sharply, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Interesting, Derek had the exact same reaction to him as well. “Are you finished being an ass or can we please just work on the project??”

Sebastian conceded, wanting to get this over with as much as Kurt did. The research took longer than expected, the two of them digging through texts so dry that Sebastian suspected that if he blew on his screen, dust would come out. Kurt even ran out to grab them both coffee at one point, so they could keep going with their marathon session. It was half past nine at night when they started winding down, Kurt fussing with the fonts of the title slide, and Sebastian finishing the formatting of their bibliography.

“You’ve been sleeping over Windsor recently,” Kurt said, though his eyes were still on the screen. Sebastian paused, his fingers hovering over the keys of his own keyboard, staring at their shared Google Slides. He had stayed the night a few times since his first rendezvous with Hansel, not intentionally, but it had been so late when they rolled off of each other, that Sebastian would’ve collapsed and fallen asleep in the middle of the grass if he tried to return to Stuart.

“I didn’t know you noticed,” Sebastian said, keeping his voice light.

“I’m the Windsor prefect,” Kurt said slowly, as if explaining a very basic concept to a very small child. Sebastian rolled his eyes.

“You’ve been preoccupied until recently,” Sebastian said simply, though the weight of the implication stilled the air between them. Kurt didn’t react with the same irritation as before, as Sebastian had expected, rather leaning forward on his elbows, looking almost sad.

“Yeah, I guess I was,” Kurt said softly, and Sebastian suddenly felt bad for digging into him. He had never been in a real relationship, at least one filled with mutual adoration and respect for each other as Kurt and Blaine had, so he didn’t know how it must feel for it to suddenly come to a close. Yet, he knew enough to know that he wanted to avoid it at all costs, which was likely why he avoided long term relationships as a whole.

“I’m sorry, I…” Sebastian cleared his throat. He hated emotional conversations like this, it was disgusting and sent terrible tingles down his back, like when he ate eggplants or mayonnaise. He’d rather just fuck. “I’ve just been doing casual hook-ups. Nothing serious.”

Kurt leaned his chin on his hand, his perfectly manicured nails drumming his cheek absentmindedly. How did he always look like he smelled like his mother’s lotion? “I figured, I just wanted to make sure. Han’s my friend, too, you know? I want to be sure you’re not taking advantage of him.”

Sebastian snorted. “If anything, it’s the other way around.”

Kurt studied him for a bit with narrowed eyes, and Sebastian sipped innocently from his coffee. “So, you are a bottom.”

Sebastian liked coffee, but he found he liked it much less coming back up through his nose. Which is exactly what it did when those words came out of Kurt Elizabeth Hummel’s mouth. Kurt handed over a travel pack of tissues with a smirk as Sebastian sputtered and coughed. There was that gleam back in his eyes, the one that reminded Sebastian as to why he was friends with Julian Larson. Kurt seemed all too smug at drawing out that kind of reaction from Sebastian, which he should, very few managed, but Sebastian still hated it.

“I’m a switch if you must know. I’m surprised Julian hasn’t given you more details,” Sebastian huffed after wiping the rest of coffee from his face. Kurt waved his hand airily. Julian had been gone for over two months, longer than he said he was going to be, and Sebastian still had not heard from the actor.

“Julian’s private about that sort of thing. That’s probably why the entire school is confused as to if the two of you are even dating or not,” Kurt explained.

“We’re not.”

“Well, I figured, if you’re sneaking out of Windsor before seven in the morning and giving head to Derek Seigerson,” Kurt said. If Sebastian was drinking anything, he’d be choking on it again.

“Derek told you??”

“Derek and I exercise together. He’s like my personal trainer or whatever,” Kurt said with a haughty sniff. “And also, I don’t know if it’s my face, demeanor, or what, but people around here seem to take one look at me and immediately divulge their deepest darkest secrets. I don’t know if I should be annoyed or impressed.”

“I should’ve hung out with you more,” Sebastian said. “Collect everyone’s dirt like pokemon.”

Kurt leveled him with an icy glare. “No, you’d use it for evil.”

“Darling, I use everything for evil.”

“Yes, it’s a problem.”

Sebastian chuckled, closing his laptop down. “Why are you interested all of a sudden in my extracurricular activities, Kurt? Wanting a piece? Rebound bang?”

Kurt laughed, a genuine one, and it might’ve been the first since his breakup with Blaine a couple weeks prior. “In your dreams, Smythe.”

They agreed to meet up again later that week to finish the assignment and go over the presentation portion that they were expected to give.

“It’ll be in my room, if you don’t mind,” Kurt had said as they parted ways that evening. “I just have a lot going on right now with NYADA applications, finals, and all the prefect work.”

Sebastian had agreed, it’s not like the Windsors weren’t (begrudgingly) familiar with him already. The rest of the week was a blur as the teachers started to give final assignments and projects to complete for the end of the semester, though Sebastian’s mind couldn’t help but wander back to the conversation with Kurt in the library. It had been the first time the two of them had really connected, one on one. He had enjoyed it more than he thought he would have.

“Earth to Sebastian, are you coming in, over?” A pencil poked his forearm. Sebastian blinked to meet Bailey’s bright eyes. He rubbed his forehead, feeling like he very much needed another cup of coffee.

“Sorry, Bail, what were you saying?”

“My parents have a bunch of business meetings in Paris over the holidays, so my brother and I will be in town, maybe we can meet up?” Bailey explained, less annoyed than he should’ve been at having to repeat what he just said.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Sebastian replied. Bailey was probably the only person at Dalton he’d genuinely miss the most over the holidays, so it would be nice to see him over the holiday. Though it also meant he’d see Joshua again for the first time since that summer over a year ago.

Warm hands grabbing at his shirt…

Bright eyes glittering with laughter in the shade of tree lined streets…

A figure moving against him in linen sheets, his breath heavy in Sebastian’s ear…

Sebastian was snapped out of his thoughts by the chime of a text on his phone. It was from Kurt. He shoved all resurfacing memories of Joshua Tipton in the small box in the back of his mind where they belonged. Kurt was asking if he was free to meet soon.

“Hey, I need to meet with Kurt to go over this presentation with him. Meet you for dinner?” Sebastian said, gathering his notebooks and belongings.

“As long as it’s something with a lot of carbs that makes me forget that statistics exists,” Bailey grumbled. Sebastian smiled as he leaned over to kiss the side of his roommate’s head.

“We can get pasta from that one place you like. The one that drowns their poor fettuccine noodles in alfredo.”

“You like it too!”

Sebastian laughed as he headed off, leaving the Stuart dorm in long strides across campus, finding himself at Windsor’s faster than he had anticipated. He let himself in, as Windsor was never as anal about who came and went into the premises as Stuart was. He was met with a wall of chatter and activity, despite the serious studiousness implored onto the students by the teachers. The twins rushed past him, giggling ominously. Sebastian didn’t need to wonder why for long as Clay was hot on their heels, panicking over some jelly substance in his hands and front that smelled like death with Dwight and Todd chasing after him, half scolding the twins and half trying to clean the poor freshman up.

He glided his way through the Windsor entryway to the halls of rooms, no longer perturbed by Windsor’s general chaos. The prefect room was first in the hall, a well-worn golden plaque with Windsor Prefect engraved on it. Each of the prefect rooms had a similar one, though he suspected that Hanover and Stuart’s were in much better condition than Windsor’s. He knocked lightly on the door, and Kurt opened it only seconds later. He was out of uniform already, opting for a soft cream-colored sweater and heather grey pants, an ensemble that would look more in-place on Reed Van Kamp. He looked tired and an emotion that Sebastian couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“Thanks for stopping by, Sebastian,” Kurt said, moving to the set up on the coffee table in the middle of his room. Sebastian followed, not sure if he should say something to Kurt, though given his track record and allergy to deep emotional conversations, it might be best if he didn’t.

“Let’s finish off this fucker,” Sebastian said with a half-grin.

“You mean finish up?”

“Pretty sure it’s finish off.”

Kurt eyed him suspiciously. “Whatever. I have flashcards we can use; I was thinking we could trade off the slides since there’s an even number…”

The remaining work didn’t take longer than fifteen minutes, but Kurt started another pot of coffee anyways, and Sebastian forgot to grab another cup on the way here. Kurt seemed lost in thought, though, tugging idly at his sweater and before Sebastian could stop himself, he asked, “Is there any reason you look like shit, or have you decided this is your new look?”

Kurt glared at Sebastian. “How tactful,” he said dryly. “You should consider becoming a therapist.”

“I’m not good at this emotional shit, I’m just saying! You look tired, and… shit?” Sebastian started, throwing his hands up in defense. Kurt set his mouth in a hard line, but poured them both mugs of coffee, setting it, sugar, and creamer in front of him. He also noticed Kurt pointedly give him the Cats mug—the sneaky asshole. Kurt sat across from him, holding his mug with both hands. He stared out the window a moment, and Sebastian could see his jaw working and several emotions cross his face fleetingly and all at once. Sebastian sipped his coffee silently, wondering if he would need to chug it before Kurt kicked him out.

“Blaine went on a date,” he finally said after a long moment of silence. Sebastian frowned. Well, that wasn’t what he was expecting. “Reed told me.”

“Didn’t you two just break up like a week ago?”

“Three weeks ago. And I know we’re not together, and he’s his own person, but…” he trailed off, staring morosely into his mug. Sebastian flailed internally, not sure what to say.

“You can admit that it feels like shit, Kurt. It sounds like it feels like shit,” Sebastian offered, trying to be helpful.

Kurt exhaled through his nose, his shoulders slumping just slightly. “Yeah… Yeah, it does. I just didn’t think he’d move on so quickly, you know?”

“He didn’t seem like that type to me, either.”

They sat in silence again, and Sebastian wished he knew what to say to Kurt to help him feel better. The only ways he knew how to comfort someone was through either food or sex. He rummaged through his bag before pulling out a small container.

“Here,” he said, opening it and pushing it towards Kurt.

Kurt sniffed slightly and stared at the container as if it was something his Windsors made for him that they were trying to pass off as food. “What is it?”

“Poison, Kurt, Jesus. It’s kouign amann, it’s a pastry. Have one,” Sebastian said, a little awkwardly. Kurt gingerly took one from the container, cautiously biting into it. His eyes widened and he stared down at the pastry in his hand.

“Its… wow, Sebastian, this is really good,” Kurt mumbled around more eager bites. Sebastian preened a little, grabbing one for himself.

“Thanks, it’s my grandmother’s recipe, but my mom showed me how to make them,” Sebastian said. “I made them for Bailey, but I think I was stressed and baked a fuck-ton.”

Kurt regarded Sebastian with a curious look, grabbing a second like the greedy little shit he was. Sebastian let it pass, since he was in emotional distress. “What?”

“Nothing, it’s just… I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you talk about your family. I assumed you were an only child and orphan, living off massive trust funds until you finally croaked from debauchery and indulgences.”

Sebastian laughed. “Both of my parents are still alive, and I’m not an only child. I have two brothers, younger and older. Alphonse and Reginald.”

Truth be told, he hadn’t talked about his family or the friends left behind in Paris for a reason. He wanted to keep the two as separate from each other as possible—make it easier when he detached himself from everyone after graduation. Only Bailey and Julian knew that he had siblings, and only Bailey had ever met them (through video chat, though with Bailey being in Paris for Christmas, he might meet them in person as well).

“Huh. You just give off only child energy, I guess,” Kurt nibbled at the second pastry.

“I feel like that’s an insult.”

“Oh, it definitely is.”

“Rude. And here I was, giving you my food out of the kindness of my heart,” Sebastian huffed, moving to pull the container away from Kurt, who stopped him immediately. Sebastian relented, though he was glad there was more in his room since he suspected he was going to return with an empty container.

“Is this your way of comforting me?” Kurt asked with a small smile.

“Yes, it was,” Sebastian huffed, grabbing a second pastry before Kurt ate the rest. “It’s the only way I know how. Well, that and sex.”

Kurt snorted. “Of course.”

“I’m a very good lay. Just because you’ve never had sex—”

“I have to!”

“Well now, that’s a surprise.”

Kurt narrowed his eyes at Sebastian, the way he did whenever Sebastian would challenge him at Warblers practice. His words dripped icily, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You give off inexperienced energy,” Sebastian said, with the same tone Kurt used to call him an only child. “Like you don’t know yet how to satisfy a partner—”

Sebastian wasn’t paying attention as Kurt moved until suddenly he felt a hand on his chest, shoving him down on his back, and he was looking up at Kurt, who was straddling his hips, pinning Sebastian’s wrists up above his head. There was a predatory gleam in Kurt’s eyes, and it stirred up a lot of feelings in Sebastian, particularly below his waist. He licked his lips, feeling a sharp thrilling jolt about thinking on how far he could push the Windsor.

“Excuse you. Blaine was very satisfied afterwards, if you must know.”

“It’s his loss now, then,” Sebastian said, his voice softer, grinning impishly up at him. Kurt seemed to realize what he was doing and rolled off of Sebastian, color rising in his cheeks. He cleared his throat, looking away from Sebastian.

“Sorry, I—”

“Hey,” Sebastian caught Kurt’s wrist, the skin soft under his fingers. “If Blaine gets to move on, so can you. You’re allowed to rebound if you want to.”

Kurt was staring intently at the hand gripping his wrist, taking a soft and shaky inhale before raising his eyes to meet Sebastian’s steady gaze. Sebastian watched a million thoughts and emotions race through Kurt’s eyes in a single intense second before his mouth set in a determined line and before he could say anything, Kurt had broken free from Sebastian’s grip, grabbing Sebastian’s face with both hands and kissing him with an unbridled passion.

Kurt, up close, smelled of soft things—jasmine and peony and warm spring mornings—but he kissed with all the heated intensity of the afternoon sun in the middle of July. It was strong and overwhelming, pressing Sebastian down until all coherent thoughts ceased to be. Sebastian grabbed Kurt by the waist, pulling him closer until the fell back together on the floor, cushioned by the pillows Kurt had meticulously set out. Kurt broke away when he fell on top of Sebastian, breathing heavily. Sebastian grinned up at him with kiss swollen lips.

“So, you did want a piece,” he teased, and Kurt scrunched his nose.

“Do you ever stop fucking talking?” he huffed, crashing his lips down on Sebastian’s before he could come up with a witty retort. They pulled eagerly at each other’s clothes, though Kurt broke away enough to scold Sebastian to be careful with his sweater—it was cashmere. Sebastian rolled his eyes and distracted him by palming at Kurt through his pants, making Kurt gasp sharply.

“We’ve had too much coffee,” Kurt breathed when Sebastian asked him where the lube and condoms were while kissing down Kurt’s neck. “And I am not getting these pillows stained.”

“They’re just pillows.”

“They’re a gift from Reed. From Italy.”

“You are a bigger snob than I am,” Sebastian grumbled, undoing his own pants and sliding them down. Kurt paused, looking down with a raised eyebrow. Sebastian was already at full mast and judging by the size of the bulge straining in Kurt’s very nice underwear, so was he. Sebastian smirked at Kurt’s fascinated expression.

“Like what you see?”

“I don’t know why I’m surprised you’re uncircumcised,” Kurt replied bluntly, and Sebastian threw his head back and laughed at how forward Kurt was.

“I thought you would like it; especially given the sheer number of turtlenecks you own.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do!”

With some help from Kurt, Sebastian got Kurt’s pants off, swallowing every gasp and sound Kurt made as he ran his thumb along the slit, rubbing the beaded precum around the tender head.

“C’mere,” Sebastian murmured against Kurt’s lips, and Kurt obliged, scooting closer until Kurt was straddling Sebastian’s hips, their lengths flushed against one another. Kurt made a face when Sebastian spit into his own palm, and Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “Do you want a blister on your dick?”

With his other hand, he grabbed Kurt’s chin, pulling him in as he slowly ran his hand up and down their cocks. It was a feeling like no other—being so pressed against one another that it felt like their very souls could conjoin at any moment. Kurt kissed him with a deep unsatiated hunger and with an energy that must’ve been building for a long time under a carefully watched surface, and Sebastian wondered how much of himself he held back when he was with Blaine.

Kurt’s hips bucked against Sebastian’s as he started to move his hand faster, groaning in Sebastian’s mouth. One hand was tangled in Sebastian’s hair, pulling slightly at the strands. Sebastian grabbed Kurt’s other hand, leading it to their flushed cocks.

“Need a hand, Sebastian?” Kurt purred into Sebastian’s mouth, and the Stuart could feel him grinning.

“Ha.” Kurt’s hand started working in sync with his own, their fingers and palms bumping up against one another’s. Kurt moved with precision, an exactness that felt very Kurt, and with confidence that he knew exactly what he was doing. Sebastian’s hand moved up Kurt’s torso, his fingertips catching a nipple, rolling it between his fingers, and hearing Kurt’s breath catch.

“Let me take care of you, baby,” he murmured against Kurt’s jaw. Those seven words had much more of a profound effect on Kurt than he thought they would—Kurt’s hips bucked against Sebastian as he tried to somehow press his body closer, a muffled moan escaping from his tightly closed lips. Had they had more time, Sebastian might’ve thrown Kurt onto the bed and untangled every single tight or knotted part within Kurt with whispered words and soft touches. Spend hours loosening him until the sun came up and there wasn’t a single inch of jasmine-scented skin that Sebastian had not kissed. There was always a next time, though.

Sebastian leaned their foreheads together, Kurt’s breath getting more unsteady, his hand no longer in sync. “Seb-Sebastian, I’m gonna—”

Sebastian kissed the corner of his mouth. “I know, baby.”

Kurt came with a soft cry, his thighs trembling around Sebastian’s hips. He slumped slightly against Sebastian as they rode out Kurt’s orgasm, finishing himself off in the process. Sebastian caught Kurt in a breathless kiss, capturing the last of the warm energy that hung in the air between them. Kurt leaned against Sebastian, spent, though he grimaced when he realized how sticky he felt. Sebastian kissed the side of Kurt’s head then tapped his thigh to get him to move. He stood and held out the hand not coated in semen to help Kurt up.

“C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up,” Sebastian teased. Kurt took the hand, standing on wobbly legs. Kurt’s bathroom was pristine, with more creams and moisturizers than Sebastian would likely own in his lifetime. Sebastian wet a washcloth with warm water when he caught Kurt leaning against the counter, staring at the floor with an unreadable expression.

“Everything okay?” he asked, wiping himself off before passing it to Kurt.

“Yeah,” Kurt started, then paused, chewing on his lower lip. Sebastian nudged him gently after a moment. “It’s not—it’s been a while since I feel like I enjoyed that, you know? I didn’t realize how automatic and disconnected it had become.”

“Well,” Sebastian took the washcloth once Kurt was done with it. “I don’t want to speculate too much here, but what I’ve experienced is that once too many expectations—either internal or external—are put on something, it tends to ruin it. Life isn’t a play, and you can’t force something to fit without risking that you force it so hard that it breaks.”

Kurt regarded him with a look that was halfway to fondness. “I take back what I said about you being a bad therapist; you’d make an excellent relationship therapist.”

“Abso-fucking-lutely not.”

Kurt laughed, then moved to the tub, bending over to plug it up (a view that Sebastian did not even try to hide he was admiring) and turned on the water. He glanced back at Sebastian with a coy half-smile, and Sebastian realized then as to why Kurt fit in so well with the Windsors. “I’m going to take a bath, after today. Care to join me?”

Sebastian glanced at the clock. It was almost dinner time. “Unfortunately, I did promise someone dinner.”

Kurt slowly sauntered up to Sebastian, his bottom lip jutted out slightly in a mock pout. Sebastian hated how well that was working on him. “Not even ten minutes?”

His face was less than an inch apart from Sebastian’s, and the Stuart could feel his body start to betray him. He closed the gap, kissing Kurt feverishly, reaching behind to grab a handful of the ass he looked forward to becoming more acquainted with in the future.

He could spare ten minutes. Or fifteen.

Chapter Text

“Do you get off somehow on constantly pissing me off, Sebastian??” Logan yelled, color rising in his face, partially from anger and partially from the whiskey. They were both exhausted from a week of exams, and Sebastian knew at his last dig that he had pushed Logan’s buttons too much, but he couldn’t give less of a shit. Logan was no cupcake to be around either.

“Maybe I do!” Sebastian sneered, storming out of the common area. Logan followed, ready to throw down. “Maybe the idea of someone knocking your self-righteous, self-important, selfish ass off the motherfucking pedestal you set yourself on gives me some sense of pleasure. Some sense that justice exists, and the world doesn’t revolve around spoiled brats like you.”

“You’re just as much of a spoiled brat as me, Smythe, don’t fucking think I’ve haven’t been to your family’s circle jerk parties of Paris’s fucking finest!!”

“What’re they yelling about now?” Sebastian could barely make out Bailey ask Derek, who shrugged as he watched the hurricane pass him, but the anger and three mojitos roared in his ears and drowned everything out.

Sebastian laughed bitterly. “At least I know I’m a goddamn hypocrite, Logan. I don’t go around pretending that I’m better than I am because I know assholes like you will remind me exactly where my place is supposed to be.”

Sebastian spun on his heel and stalked upstairs, fully intending on scrounging out every last bit of alcohol in his room and forgetting this night. Infuriatingly, he heard Logan’s footsteps behind him and tried to walk faster, but Logan caught him easily, grabbing his arm and spinning him around.

“The fuck is your problem??” he hissed, half angry and half confused.

“You’re my problem!” Sebastian snapped, swiping his key card with an angry flourish.

Nothing.

Sebastian cursed and swiped a few more times unsuccessfully before kicking the door in frustration. Great. Just what he needed after this evening.

“The card’s backwards,” Logan stated simply after watching him struggle. Sebastian was tempted to shove the keycard down Logan’s throat, but he looked down and saw that it was, indeed, backwards.

“Fuck you,” Sebastian hissed for good measure as he finally unlocked the door, moving to slam it behind him when Logan’s hand caught the door. Sebastian wanted to scream when Logan followed him inside the room, closing the door behind him. Sebastian pointedly tried to ignore the prefect, getting on his hands and knees, and digging underneath the bed. He could’ve sworn he had a couple of mini-Fireballs stashed here…

“I just want to know what the hell is your problem with me??” Logan demanded; arms crossed in front of chest. Sebastian shot Logan a glare from the floor, moving to start rifling through his dresser drawers.

“I could say the same about you, Wright,” Sebastian snapped, tearing his room apart for any alcohol. Was his stash really that small?? “You’ve hated me from the moment I stepped foot on this campus, when I’ve done absolutely nothing wrong to you!”

Logan snorted, unruffled by the tornado going on around him. “That’s not true—”

“You’ve been cold since the very first day. What the fuck could I have done, hm?? Name it.”

Logan opened his mouth and stuttered to a halt. Sebastian could finally see the gears turning, and he laughed cruelly. “Actually, I can.”

Logan regarded him warily as Sebastian walked right up to him. “What?”

“I represent everything you regret, most of all, the fact that I was there for Julian when you had your head shoved so deep up your ass!” Sebastian hissed, not even trying to stop the words as they fell out of his mouth. Before he knew it, Logan had roughly pinned him against the wall. Sebastian laughed bitterly, though the back of his head throbbed where he had clocked it against the wall.

“You—you don’t—” Logan’s face was flushed, and his eyes were wild with alcohol doused rage. His fingers dug painfully into Sebastian’s arms, but Sebastian didn’t care. He was tired—tired of being at this school, of being silently rejected, of playing into this stupid fantasy Julian created for himself as some misguided attempt to protect himself—from what?? People who cared about him??

“It doesn’t fucking matter anyways. You’ve already won; you’re just too stupid to realize it,” Sebastian muttered, and he felt Logan’s grip loosen slightly, but his gaze was fiery and determined.

“You’re so fucking insufferable, you know that?” Logan snapped. “Maybe that’s why Julian can’t stand to be around you.”

Silence.

Sebastian felt like he’d been punched in the gut, every ounce of air left him at once as it felt like his ribs were about to collapse in on themselves. He could only choke out shakily, “Get out.”

Logan stepped back when he realized he went too far—crossed a boundary from them getting on each other’s nerves to striking below the belt. Sebastian could not care less about what Logan thought or felt, he could feel hot tears starting to run down his face, and he needed Logan to go away before he completely fell apart in front of the very last person he wanted to witness it.

“Sebastian…”

“Get out!!” Sebastian grabbed Logan by the front of his shirt and all but dragged him out the door, slamming it in his face. His legs gave out on him a half a second later, and he covered his mouth with his palm to muffle the sobs that tore through his body. This was stupid—this was so fucking stupid, to be reduced to this. He needed to pull himself together, had to pull himself together. He was Sebastian Smythe, goddammit! He didn’t cry over boys!!

And yet, as Logan’s words ricocheted through his head, none of that mattered. He wished Reginald was here, wished his mom was here… he just wanted to go home. He wrapped his arms around himself, sobbing into the empty foreign air of his dorm. He hadn’t gone crying to his mother since his first crush had pushed him down in the playground when he was eight. She had stroked his hair while he’d gotten tears and snot in her silk top—and yet, that was all he longed for right then and there. It was a few hours before his mother would be awake, though. He couldn’t call her like this, waking her up, and probably distressing her with how upset he was.

He sniffled, choking back a few sobs as he made his way to his bed, hugging his pillow tightly. He felt so alone and so very, very small. After thirty minutes or three hours (it sure felt like the latter) and his sobs had subsided into soft sniffles, Sebastian heard someone walk down the hallway, then two soft voices talking outside the door. A pair of footsteps sounded walking away from the door, which quickly clicked open with a keycard.

“Sebastian?” Bailey’s voice came softly. Sebastian just pressed his face more into the pillow. He heard Bailey walk up to him and then felt a warm hand on his shoulder. He peeked over the pillow and saw Bailey’s concerned expression, which turned to worry and sympathy when he saw Sebastian’s splotchy face. “Oh, Bas…”

Before Sebastian could react, Bailey had pulled the pillow away and had enveloped Sebastian in a warm hug. Sebastian could feel another round of tears starting as he clung onto Bailey’s shirt like a lifeline. Bailey could probably feel him trembling from the effort of holding back the sobs and tightened his grip, rubbing Sebastian’s back soothingly. “Logan was just being an asshole, I’m so sorry…”

They stayed like that for a while—Bailey with his arms wrapped around Sebastian, and Sebastian with his face pressed into Bailey’s shoulder. Bailey didn’t pull away until he was sure Sebastian had calmed down. He handed Sebastian some tissues for his face.

“Thanks, mom,” Sebastian said, half-jokingly. Bailey jabbed his knee playfully, but there was a sympathetic look in his eyes. It was the first time Sebastian had cried—really cried—in front of Bailey. Hell, in front of anyone outside of his family.

“Logan was outside the room when I came up—he told me what happened,” Bailey explained once he had gotten Sebastian a glass of water. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m fairly certain he was crying too.”

Sebastian almost choked on his water. “Logan? Really?”

Bailey shrugged. “He knows he went too far, and he feels really crappy about it—as he should. I told him to go to his room, that you’ll talk to him if or when you’re ready.”

Sebastian nodded. Truth be told, he did want to talk to Logan, if only to know if what he said was the truth. If Julian really couldn’t stand to be around Sebastian and had been hiding that from him—Sebastian needed to know before he dragged himself back here for another semester at this hellhole. He certainly would not be coming back if that was the case.

“Sebastian?”

Sebastian looked up to meet Bailey’s gaze. Bailey gave him a small smile. “I like being around you. You’re one of the best friends I’ve ever had, and I really do mean that.”

Sebastian swallowed the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. He didn’t realize how much he yearned to hear someone say that—and mean it. To not be someone’s burden or chore, but their friend. His voice was thick with emotion, “Thanks, Bailey.”

Bailey smiled and leaned over to kiss his cheek. “You totally don’t have to talk to Logan, by the way, I can tell him to kick rocks for you tomorrow—”

“No, I want to.” Sebastian stood up, brushing his pants off. Bailey looked confused.

“Wait, you want to talk to him now??” Bailey stood up with him. It was probably a stupid idea, but Sebastian hated leaving things unresolved. “Are you sure? You probably both need sleep—”

“No, I want to talk to him now. I’ll be okay, Bailey, I promise,” Sebastian said, squeezing Bailey’s hand before leaving their room. Logan’s room wasn’t far from theirs’s and judging by the light coming from under his door, he was still awake. Sebastian took a steeling breath and knocked on the door.

“Go’way, Derek,” Logan’s voice came, his voice thick like he’d been crying. So, Bailey had been correct.

“It’s not Derek,” Sebastian said softly. There was a muffled curse, a crash like Logan had tripped over something getting to the door, and then Logan was standing in front of him. His eyes were red-rimmed, and his face was drawn. Sebastian was sure he probably didn’t look much better. Logan opened the door wider, stepping aside to let Sebastian in. Sebastian silently sat at Logan’s desk, looking up at him expectantly.

“I just… I want to start with I’m sorry,” Logan said, pacing the floor in front of Sebastian, running a hand through his hair and making it more rumpled looking than it did before. “It was a really shitty thing to say, and I may have been projecting a little—”

“Projecting?”

Logan sat down on his bed with a heavy sigh, and Sebastian felt like he was seeing Logan for the first time—that they were both really seeing each other for the first time.

“It’s just… when you came, you seemed so close to Julian already. I don’t know, it bothered me how someone I don’t even know seemed to understand my best friend on a level that I never got close to.” He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding Sebastian’s gaze. “I guess… I got jealous?”

“Jealous,” Sebastian repeated. “Of me.”

Logan put his face in his hands. “Please don’t make me repeat it.”

They sat in silence together for a moment, Sebastian looking down at his hands. “For the record, Logan—” Logan looked up at him. “—I’m pretty sure he’s closer to you than he is with me. Whatever we had before… it doesn’t exist anymore. Or at least he doesn’t want it to.”

“At least you had something,” Logan said quietly. “I can’t even get him to talk to be about where we stand after… everything that’s happened.”

Julian’s presence loomed heavy between them, despite Julian still shooting on location without any indication if he’d return before the semester had even ended. It had been almost three months since he left, and the chasm he left in his silence was large enough to swallow them whole. Sebastian picked invisible lint off of his pants.

“So what you said… about Julian not…” he couldn’t finish the sentence, it felt like chewing on nails just to try.

“No.” Logan’s voice was firm. “It was a stupid and cruel thing to say. I haven’t even heard from him since he left—he hasn’t even texted me.”

Sebastian looked up in surprise when Logan said that—he wasn’t alone. Julian hadn’t kept in contact with anyone when he had left for his film. He stood up and crossed the room, sitting down on the bed next to Logan. He quietly admitted, “He hasn’t texted me either.”

Logan met his gaze—an intense green that were much more interesting to look at up close (and when Logan wasn’t actively being an asshole). Sebastian wondered if Julian had a thing for boys with green eyes, but the musing didn’t stay with him long. Logan sighed, rubbing his forehead, their arms brushing against one another as they sat in silence, absorbing everything that was revealed.

“What a sad pair are we,” Sebastian observed, and Logan snorted. “Supposed to be in the prime of our lives, and here we are—crying over the same stupid boy.”

“I wasn’t crying,” Logan muttered huffily, but Sebastian shot him a look. If he was going to admit that he cried, then Logan sure as hell was going too as well. “I wasn’t crying over Julian. It was weird, seeing you upset. I didn’t think you had any other emotions other than snark.”

“Just because I choose not to show them to anyone, doesn’t mean I don’t have them,” Sebastian murmured, and the look Logan gave him wrenched something deep in his chest.

“You should.”

“Maybe I just need the right person to show them to…”

Their faces were close now, and Sebastian could smell the lingering remnants of Logan’s cologne and the faint smell of alcohol on his breath. Logan’s gaze flitted around his face as if he were looking for something he desperately wished would be there—something he had been looking for fruitlessly for a long time. Sebastian leaned in just slightly, his hand on top of the prefect’s. Logan glanced down at Sebastian’s lips, and his tongue flitted out briefly to wet his own.

And then Logan pulled away. “It’s getting late.”

Sebastian cleared his throat. “I should be getting back.”

Yet neither moved from the bed, their hands still on top of one another on Logan’s bedspread. They were both so very lonely—a deeply wounded soul surrounded by thick walls to block anyone and everyone from coming too close. But now, with the help of some whiskey and stress, their walls had been obliterated between each other, leaving only the deep desire to connect with another person and to finally feel seen and understood.

“You don’t… have to go if you don’t want to,” Logan murmured, sounding like he was trying so very hard to show how much he didn’t want to be alone.

“Do you want me to stay?”

Logan turned his hand over, his fingers lacing with Sebastian’s. “Yes.”

Sebastian wasn’t entirely sure who first initiated—it was likely both of them to some capacity—but before he knew it, their lips were moving roughly against one another’s, hand searching for skin in the darkness under the covers of Logan’s bed. Logan was as dominating in bed as he seemed outside of it, but surprisingly gentle when he needed to be. He pressed Sebastian into his mattress, working Sebastian like he was playing an unheard symphony. Pianists and their fucking hands, Sebastian thought feverishly as he gripped the sheets underneath him.

There was a melancholy that encircled them, and deep down, Sebastian knew that they were both just using sex to fulfill a need that both had and would never admit out loud, but when Logan pushed inside of Sebastian, all introspective musings went out the window. They moved in tandem on the bed—a duet of yearning and loneliness.

Logan’s lips were against his ear, whispering sweet nothings as he fucked Sebastian slow and deep. Sebastian gripped at Logan’s back, his breath coming in ragged gasps with each thrust. The need ached deep into his bones, seeping out every single bit of isolation, rejection, and abandonment he ever felt, bringing it to the surface all at once. He didn’t know he had started crying again until Logan paused, looking down at him with worry. It had taken a couple of minutes of begging Logan to keep going, that he was fine (though were either of them ever fine), for him to restart, kissing away Sebastian’s tears as he moved against his body.

Sebastian came with a strangled sob that wrecked his already tired throat, with Logan following close on his heels, pressing a kiss to the top of Sebastian’s hair with a tenderness that threatened to set loose another sob. He put a hand to cover his eyes, despite the darkness of the room, trying to even out his breathing. He felt Logan move beside him, then gently pry Sebastian’s hand away from his own face.

“Sebastian,” Logan said softly. “You okay?”

Sebastian considered his question carefully this time. He was exhausted, having expelled more emotions that evening than he had in the past year, but he felt lighter somehow. He had opened Pandora’s box, and everything had come flying out all at once. He looked up at Logan, his eyes still watery. He thought about the myth of Pandora’s box—how after everything had flown out, hope had been the only one remaining.

“I will be.” And this time—he believed it.

Sebastian groaned when the morning light hit his eyes, his head pounding from the night before. Fuck the sun.

“Turn the fucking sun off,” Logan’s tired and irritated voice came from behind him. They were both butt naked from the night before, and after a quick stock of his situation, Sebastian found that he was spooning Logan—and the little spoon at that. Sebastian shifted to find his phone where it had been dropped on the floor with his pants.

“Logan, it’s ten in the morning,” Sebastian said with all the joy of someone who was told they had to scrub toilets after Taco Tuesday. Logan wordlessly groaned, pressing his face into Sebastian’s back. With much bribing of buckets of coffee and greasy food, Sebastian got them both out of bed and dressed. They still both looked wrecked—messy hair and heavy bags under their eyes. If anyone else saw them, they might assume that he and Logan went on a wild night of partying before fucking ravenously into the wee hours of the night. Sebastian sure would’ve assumed that had he seen the two of them.

“I need coffee, Advil, and bacon—in that order,” Logan muttered, trying unsuccessfully to tame his hair before he gave up. Sebastian nodded, flipping through his phone, leaning against Logan as he ordered them breakfast. Or brunch. Logan kissed the side of his head and added two helpings of hashbrowns to their order.

“If Bailey asks, we just stayed up late talking about our feelings,” Sebastian said, drawing out the last word to three syllables. Logan snorted.

“Are you kidding me? He threatened me with violence last night if I step another toe out of line. Bailey. Threatened.”

Sebastian laughed, but he added a chocolate chip croissant for Bailey. He knew he liked his roommate for a reason. Sebastian was still on his phone when Logan opened the door, walking through it and nearly barreling into Julian Larson.

“Hey,” Julian said, looking at the two of them, obviously rumpled, coming out of Logan’s bedroom together on a Saturday morning. His brow furrowed just slightly, but he never let any emotion seep through any cracks. “I’m back from filming.”

Chapter Text

“Hey,” Julian said, looking at the two of them, obviously rumpled, coming out of Logan’s bedroom together on a Saturday morning. His brow furrowed just slightly, but he never let any emotion seep through any cracks. “I’m back from filming.”

Logan managed a smile, though Sebastian knew Julian would be able to see right through any weak façade they tried to put on. “Welcome back, Jules.”

Sebastian didn’t know what to say to him when Julian glanced his way—what could he possibly say that could even come close to filling the yawning abyss that lay between them, so endless and deep that Julian still felt miles away even though he was less than an arm’s width of distance in front of Sebastian. Julian must’ve sensed it too because he did not press Sebastian for a greeting, though Sebastian almost wished he had and finally become an active participant rather than passively accepting things as they came. Almost.

“I’m going to get the food,” Sebastian murmured to Logan, who tapped his elbow for the briefest of seconds. Julian’s eyes narrowed slightly at the fond gesture—a stark contrast to the antagonism they had been locked in when he had left. Sebastian heard Logan asking him about the shoot as he quickly walked downstairs, his heart pounding in his throat. He could still feel Logan’s hands on him from the night before, his breath warm on Sebastian’s ear as he whispered things in a tone so sure and warm that it felt like liquid honied light dripping slowly through his body, filling him utterly and completely with what heartbreakingly felt a little like tenderness. And then there was Julian—always making an arrival at the most inopportune moments. Sebastian couldn’t forget how long Julian ignored his texts and calls, how his entire attitude toward Sebastian changed when he had transferred to Dalton Academy, and how much all of that hurt.

He just had to get through finals, and then he could finally breathe.

Sebastian pushed his face more into his pillow as if he could become one with it. He’d been back in Paris now for about a week—and a very long one at that after being stuck back in his old bedroom. He had to relinquish his apartment back to his parents (it had technically been his mother’s) after transferring to Dalton, and anything in it that did not come with him was sold or put in boxes that now were neatly stacked in the corner of his childhood bedroom. Sebastian had not slept in this room since he was fifteen, and the sheets smelled like mothballs and potpourri. Yet, he’d much rather be here than at Dalton.

Until a hard poke to his forehead threatened to crack his skull. Sebastian made a face, blearly opening his eyes to see Alphonse staring intently at him, less than six inches from his face. He jumped nearly a foot in the air, almost falling off the bed.

“Fucking hell, Alphonse!!!” he yelped. “What the fuck are you doing that for???”

Alphonse rolled his eyes, straightening up. He had a growth spurt while Sebastian had been gone and was all gangly limbs that awkwardly hung from him like Alphonse didn’t know what to do with them. He was also getting scarily close to Sebastian’s height, which Sebastian did not care for in the slightest. That little shit better not get taller than him, it was bad enough Reginald was an inch taller. “Mamon said we can’t open presents until you’re awake.”

“It’s nine in the goddamn morning, Al, couldn’t you wait until after ten?” Sebastian started getting out of bed, throwing a sweatshirt on.

“No.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. Pre-teens. Sebastian quickly sent a text to Bailey, wishing him a Merry Christmas. The Tiptons were to arrive in Paris the following day, just in time for the Smythe post-Christmas holiday party. “Is Reg here yet?”

“No, but he said he’ll be here for lunch.” Lucky asshole and his fancy adult job that paid for his fancy adult apartment, so he didn’t have to share a wall with a twelve-year-old in the throes of puberty. Their parents were sitting on the couch, sipping coffee, by the simple yet ornate Christmas tree tucked in the corner. Their mother—Denise Smythe—smiled warmly, standing up when she saw her two younger sons come in the room. She hugged Sebastian—she smelled of cashmere and Chanel No. 5 as always, a smell that almost made Sebastian start crying in the Charles de Gaulle airport days earlier when she had picked him up. He had missed her so much.

“Chouchou, did you sleep well?” she tutted, patting his cheek affectionately. He smiled and nodded before sweeping into the kitchen to get himself some coffee before his father took the rest of it. Soft classical Christmas music filled the air with a golden glow as the rest of the morning was a whirlwind of wrapping paper, ribbons, and cards as Hurricane Alphonse excitedly made his way through his gifts. He had squealed in excitement when he got to Sebastian’s present—the brand-new Minecraft game with limited edition accessories (Sebastian sent a mental thanks to Han for the suggestion). He had gotten new boots and sweaters from his parents (though he suspected his dad’s involvement was solely in signing his name at the bottom of the card), and his mother fussed about how cold it supposedly was in Ohio.

Reginald appeared shortly before noon, bearing gifts and a bottle of wine for the evening. Sebastian had only seen him once since returning home—Reginald’s social life had seemingly blossomed in Sebastian’s absence, and Sebastian wondered how much of his brother’s free time he had taken up by making Reginald check up on him so regularly. Reginald had gotten him a watch—a nice one at that, but simple and classic. Sebastian caught his older brother in the kitchen as he was making another pot of coffee. Sebastian’s gift—a handmade leather journal with Reginald’s initials engraved in the corner—was tucked away at a safe distance away.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you about school—I feel like I’ve hardly seen you,” Reginald started as he weighed out the ground coffee. Sebastian groaned, perching on the counter.

“You heard what I told Dad earlier,” Sebastian huffed, picking invisible lint off of his pajama bottoms.

“Yeah, I heard the dry version with what you deemed appropriate enough to tell our parents. I want to know the full story,” Reginald said, setting the filter in the Chemex. He was more of a coffee snob than Sebastian was—and that was saying something.

“There’s not much to tell. It’s a boring school with boring people in a boring town,” Sebastian huffed, pushing his empty mug closer to the Chemex.

“But you made friends?”

Sebastian started to say No, but he paused, remembering Bailey, Han, Kurt, and even Derek and Logan. “Yeah… yeah, a couple.”

Reginald smiled a little before filling both of their mugs. “That’s good.”

But then something caught Sebastian’s attention as his brother stood next to where he sat. He suddenly leaned forward and wiped his finger across a mismatched spot on Reginald’s neck, just barely uncovered by his sweater. Reginald leapt back a foot, nearly jostling his coffee everywhere. “Reg…” he said, biting back a grin. “Is that makeup on your neck?”

Reginald flushed red and immediately readjusted his sweater. “What??”

Sebastian gasped overdramatically. “You’re in a suspiciously good mood, you were late this morning—you weren’t even late to your own goddamn birth—and you have makeup on your neck. Reginald Laurent Smythe, did you get laid last night??”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Reginald huffed, but his bright red face was a dead giveaway.

“Really decked those halls?? Jingled the bells all the way?? Added more egg to your ‘nog??”

“Sebastian.”

Before Sebastian could torment him any further, their mother stepped into the kitchen. “Darlings, we’re leaving for my sisters in thirty minutes—Sebastian, you aren’t even dressed yet!”

“Yes, Mama,” they said in unison, and Sebastian slid off the counter with a huff. He turned towards his brother with an impish grin.

“So, are you bringing them to the holiday party?”

“Absolutely not.” Reginald all but shoved a cackling Sebastian out of the kitchen. His phone buzzed on the way up to his room—Bailey had texted him back with a selfie of him and his brother sitting by their family’s Christmas tree in matching Christmas-themed pajamas. Both were smiling at the camera, and Sebastian paused on Joshua’s face. It had been over a year and a half since he last saw him, six whole months before he met Julian…

Summers in Paris were Sebastian’s least favorite time of the year—it was always sticky and hot, and the heat nestled to the divots and grooves in the worn concrete, radiating upward to make sure every inch of Sebastian’s body sweat. Sebastian had ducked into a bookstore, wanting to find something light to preoccupy his time. Paris was crowded with summer tourists—loud and complaining. The inside of the small bookstore was barely a reprieve, offered some shade but, like most places, had no air conditioning.

Sebastian was so single mindedly focused on the task at hand that he took a turn too sharp and slammed into a person leaning against a shelf, reading a paperback book. They both went down with a grunt.

“I’m so sorry!” the boy said in accented French, even though Sebastian had definitely the one at fault. Sebastian laughed easily, it wasn’t every day that he barreled down strangers, especially cute ones at that, he noticed with a quick once-over.

“I should be the one apologizing,” Sebastian said in rapid fire French, then noticed the boy’s face scrunch as he tried to slowly translate what Sebastian was saying. He continued in English: “You’re not hurt, are you?”

The boy shook his head—his hair was a halo of soft curls and Sebastian had the small urge to run his fingers through it. “How could you tell I speak English?”

Sebastian laughed. “I have lived here for some time, you tend to pick up on whose not from here pretty quickly, and—” the boy winced, but Sebastian picked up the book that he had been reading, handing it to him “—you’re reading a John Green book. In Paris.”

Sebastian held out his hand, helping him to his feet. The boy tucked the book under his arm, looking a little sheepish. “My parents come here for work fairly often, but I only recently started joining them, and I haven’t had many opportunities to practice my French.”

“Well,” Sebastian said, his first task completely abandoned when something more interesting came into focus. “I can definitely help with that, starting with coffee since it’s the least I can do after almost killing you—ah….?”

“Joshua. Joshua Tipton. And you?”

“Sebastian Smythe. Pleasure to meet you, Joshua.”

Joshua grinned, and Sebastian was very nearly lost in his bright brown eyes that danced in the sunlight streaming in the dusty windows of the bookshop. “It’s a pleasure to meet you too, Sebastian. Even if you did nearly concuss me.”

Sebastian stared into his glass of wine as the adults around him animatedly discussed business or politics or whatever (he stopped paying attention long ago). They were at his aunt’s home now—his mother’s younger sister had married a wealthy business mogul some years ago, and they promptly popped out four children, so Christmas dinners was hosted at their place to minimize the child wrangling. They were all Alphonse’s age and younger, and were crowded around Alphonse’s laptop as he powered on Minecraft, ooh-ing and aw-ing at all the features. Sebastian was stuck in the middle—too old to want to hang out with the kids, and too young to pretend to be interested in whatever the adults were discussing. Reginald used to be in the trenches with him until he decided to be a “mature grown-up” (whatever that meant).

“Sebastian,” his grandmother started, and Sebastian knew what was coming. “Have you decided on what college you're attending?”

Sebastian plastered on a fake smile. “I’d like to go to school here, in Paris. I’ve applied to a few schools here, and a couple in the states—Brown, UCLA.”

His father perked up slightly at the mention of Brown University—it was his alma mater after all, and Sebastian knew his father had been a little disappointed when Reginald chose to go to university in Paris.

“I can put in a good word for you with some of my professors,” Reginald offered, though Sebastian would rather join a monastery than go down the same path as his brother.

“I’ll be okay, Reg, thank you.”

“How are you liking your new school, Dal—Delt—Gerard, what is it called again?” His uncle floundered.

“Dalton Academy. It’s fine, it’s odd being in a single gendered school,” Sebastian cut in, feeling his battery start to drain rapidly.

“Well, maybe it’ll make it easier to meet someone,” His uncle teased with a good-natured wink, nudging Sebastian. His aunt sniffed haughtily.

“I can’t imagine you’ll meet the nicest of boys in a place like Ohio,” she said primly, the word Ohio dripping icily like Sebastian had been sent to that public school Kurt had attended before being transferred. “Have you seen some of the news from there? Utterly repulsive.”

“It’s a perfectly good school,” Gerard said gruffly, a little defensive of his home country, despite actively deciding not to raise his children there.

“Did you see how those beasts of so-called law enforcement treated those protestors in New York?? Is that the country you want your son to be educated in?”

Sebastian quickly left the table with the excuse of refilling his glass to escape the escalating argument that inevitably tended to happen. At least Sebastian knew which side of the family he got his loudmouthed, opinionated, and stubborn trait from. Reginald was not far behind. Behind them, the voices started to escalate in sound. Reginald glanced behind him, wincing slightly.

“Grab a bottle of merlot, I’ll meet you on the balcony with hors d’oeurves,” he instructed, and Sebastian grinned. It had been a couple of years since they last done this—their aunt’s balcony overlooked the city, which was lit up in celebration of the holiday, and Sebastian and Reginald would use it to escape the annual family spat or questions about their respective futures, preferring the cold and each other’s company to whatever awaited them inside.

Sebastian wrapped his scarf a little tighter when they went outside. Paris was beautiful, and Sebastian tried not to remember too much about the year before, when he had been on the streets with someone else, experiencing all those lights up close… His phone suddenly buzzed. Bailey was asking him what to wear for the party.

Olive green shirt, for sure. Brings out your eyes. With a heart emoji.

Sebastian got a response back quickly: Thanks, love!

Sebastian smiled and pocketed his phone. Reginald was watching him with an eyebrow raised. “You sure you’re not dating that Bailey guy? You two seem awfully familiar.”

Sebastian laughed; it was not the first time he had gotten that question. “No, Bailey’s asexual. It’s just how we communicate with each other.”

“What about Julian?”

Sebastian froze—he didn’t know his brother knew about Julian. “How—?"

“I saw how you reacted at the news of the accident. And you know how easily it is to bribe Alphonse for information,” Reginald explained. Sebastian inwardly swore to never tell Alphonse anything ever again. Little shit would sell his own soul for enough sweets. “You seemed… different after. Like what happened after that boy you met the summer before.”

Sebastian exhaled heavily through his nose, staring at the lights before him. They seemed so far away now, like his memories of his time with Julian—beautiful, brilliant, and so terribly fleeting. “Julian is… Julian is complicated. But I think I’m ready to let him go.”

Reginald regarded him for a silent moment, an odd look in his face. “I may not be the best person to give this advice, given the current state of my own romantic life—”

“What romantic life.”

“Butt off, asshole. What I’m trying to say is…” he sighed. “Whoever you choose whoever you decide to spend your life with—either part of it or all of it—it should be with someone who makes things feel simple. Not more complicated. Life is complex and convoluted enough—love shouldn’t add to that as well.”

Sebastian let his words sink in as they sat in contemplative silence. Had it been six months ago, he may have brushed his brother off easily, claiming it was different, but now… he wanted simplicity. He wanted to find his old self again—the one that existed before Julian and not be paralyzed in time in the moment that they once had.

“Thanks, Reggie,” he said finally, kicking the side of his brother’s foot. Reginald grimaced at the scuff mark that was left behind. “Though you should take your own advice sometimes. You’re only twenty-three. You have plenty of time left to find a spouse and spawn out an army of mini Reg-lets. Just enjoy being young while you still can.”

Reginald hummed and smiled a little. Suddenly, Reginald no longer felt like this pseudo-parent that Sebastian felt like he had to avoid, who would try to keep him in line and keep him on the “right path”. Reginald looked so young in the warm glow of the Christmas lights below without the tight stressed or displeased look his face often had in the past. For the first time, they were equals.

“My loves,” Denise’s concerned voice came from behind them, her thick shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders. “Why are you sitting out here in the cold, you’ll get sick!”

“Mama,” Reginald started. “We’re not kids anymore, a little cold won’t kill us.”

Denise huffed, picking lint off of Reginald’s coat. “Yes, mon loulou, you’re a big, strong man now, but you’ll always be my baby, so I’m always going to worry about you. Both of you.”

She reached over to squeeze Sebastian’s shoulder, who leaned slightly into her hand. “No matter how old and big and successful you get, I’m always going to think and worry about you because I love you both to the tips of the universe and back.”

“Love you too, Mama.”

She leaned down to kiss the sides of both of their heads, telling them to come in soon. The rest of the evening went by in an exhausted blur, and soon Sebastian found himself collapsing face first onto his bed, too tired to take off his coat. Family things wiped him out like nothing else—he’s partied all next, slept for less than four hours, then repeated the next night, and he didn’t feel the exhaustion seeping out of his bones like he did now. He pushed himself up, scrolling through social media and paused at a familiar face. Bailey had posted earlier—him and Joshua at their airport. Their flight would either be taking off soon, if it hadn’t already.

Sebastian kicked his clothes off, leaving them in an unceremonious heap on the floor, but his mind was already far, far away.

Sebastian and Joshua got along easily—they became quick companions throughout the summer between their parents’ respective political events and Sebastian’s so-called “tutoring”, which was mostly them strolling through the streets of Paris and Sebastian very obviously flirting with Joshua. The other did flirt back, but he never took it a step farther in the early days.

“I just got out of a messy breakup,” Joshua had admitted one late evening after rebuffing a more forward advance, bathed in golden light, gaze downturned, reminding Sebastian of those mourning angels in churches. Sebastian hadn’t said anything (what could he say, he’d never experienced that kind of heartbreak before), but he had rested his hand on Joshua’s, a silent comfort.

But like moths to the warm lights flickering in the still Parisian heat, they were inexplicably drawn to one another. Sebastian found himself aching more and more for physical closeness to Joshua, and the way the other looked at him, how his fingers lingered over Sebastian’s skin, he knew he wasn’t alone. These were the days before deals, before promises sworn on misted breath in the darkness of the Eiffel and his bedroom. They could be fluid, never having to put a label on anything. The summer heat was too strong to keep anything solid anyways.

It had taken two bottles of cabernet to learn the truth about Joshua. He refused to tell names, saying he wanted to put it all behind him. He forgave them anyways, but he didn’t want their names to be lingering out in the ether of someone else’s consciousness, without them knowing the entirety of the person it represented. How was Joshua to know that Sebastian would transfer over a year later to the very same school with the very same people.

Joshua had cried as he got to the ending of the story, and Sebastian scooted closer, wrapping Joshua in his arms and rubbing his back. He got the sense Joshua had never been able to fully tell his side of the story—explain his reasoning and perspective. He was a minor character in someone else’s narrative, a stepping-stone in their path forward, and that feeling shook Joshua to his core.

“A mistake doesn’t make you a bad person,” Sebastian had told him, running his fingers through his hair. Joshua leaned into physical affection like this, an unsaid craving that he had been too shy for far too long to ask for. “Especially if you know it was wrong and are trying to be better.”

“I want to be. I want to be better so bad,” Joshua whispered. He looked up at Sebastian, the brilliance in his eyes dimmed with heartbreak. “Do you think I can?”

Sebastian’s answer was sure and without hesitation: “I do.”

Joshua had moved first, closing the gap between them, a little too rough, too sloppy in his tipsy and emotional state, but Sebastian loved it. There was raw hunger behind it, and Sebastian would sacrifice himself every day to be devoured. But the kiss was quick, no more than a few seconds, when Joshua pulled away, a hand on his mouth and eyes wide. He started to stutter something that sounded like an apology, moving away when Sebastian caught his arm.

“Joshua,” he offered a small smile. “Did that feel like a mistake to you?”

“I—I don’t—I’m not—"

His voice softened, “Did it?”

Joshua swallowed, looking down. “No, it didn’t, at least…” he glanced up at Sebastian. “Not if it didn’t feel like one to you…”

Sebastian lifted Joshua’s chin with two fingers, and he heard the other boy’s breath hitch just slightly. “Absolutely not.”

Sebastian hadn’t been able to pick up the Tiptons from the airport—their parents had a car waiting for them, and the parents had a quick turnaround before they were needed somewhere. He had; however, insisted on taking Bailey and Joshua out for brunch. He promised Bailey that he’d keep them awake for the entire day—an aggressive approach to beat the jetlag with blunt force. Sebastian was lazily going over the menu at a café not far from the Tiptons’ hotel when Bailey and Joshua walked in.

Standing side by side, Sebastian could finally see the family resemblance. They had the same cherub-like soft curls, same bright brown eyes, same smattering of freckles across their noses—but Bailey was soft where Joshua was sharp. Joshua was less than an inch taller than Bailey, but he drew himself to his full height. He was no one’s two-dimensional background character, and a fire of energy radiated from deep within. Bailey, in contrast, was much more content with being a wallflower, never drawing too much attention to himself, and his voice was quiet and hard to hear in loud spaces—but when he did speak, he was always listened to. He had that quiet power to him that made him both easily underestimated and a hidden force to be reckoned with.

“Hi Sebastian,” Bailey said, exhaustion evident in his voice, but he seemed cheerful all the same. Joshua calmly regarded Sebastian. He had known ahead of time (Bailey had an inkling of what had happened before, though neither Joshua nor Sebastian were incredibly eager to give details), but he was not cold to Sebastian outside of normal post-travel fatigue.

“Hi Bailey, Joshua, how was your flight?”

“So long,” Bailey whined. “I couldn’t sleep at all. Josh fell asleep after five minutes.”

“Because I took a fistful of melatonin before we boarded. I offered you some, B.”

“I’m still not certain that was safe,” Bailey said warily, but he stared at the menu. “Is there a coffee on here where I can’t taste the coffee because I want that.”

“Don’t worry, Bail, I’ll make sure you don’t fall asleep face first into your food,” Sebastian jokingly assured.

“What a kind friend you are.”

The three of them laughed, catching up on their holiday breaks thus far. Sebastian did notice Joshua went quiet when Dalton came up, keeping his face perfectly neutral—a mask that even Julian would be envious of. Bailey had told Sebastian earlier that many students, including Blaine, Kurt, and Logan, had reached out to Joshua after the events of the Parent’s Night fire, checking in on him and asking if he’d consider coming back to Dalton. Joshua had politely declined each time, never giving a reason to them—except to Bailey.

“He’s forgiven them for how they acted and what they said before he left, but he knows that what happened that year is going to be at the forefront of everyone’s mind when they see him,” Bailey had told Sebastian. “He’s worked so hard to grow from the experience and coming back would feel like several steps backwards.”

There had been disappointment in Bailey’s face when he told Sebastian that. He’d never tell Joshua, of course, he only wanted his brother to be happy, but he knew Bailey missed going to the same school as his brother—and had been hopeful about being able to stand side-by-side with him at graduation.

Though now, a year and a half later, he could see those changes in Joshua. There was a calmer energy to him, a surety in himself that he had not possessed in the several weeks that Sebastian first got to know him. When Bailey excused himself to the bathroom, there was a pregnant pause of silence as their shared past started to emerge from the deep dredges of both of their memories.

“It’s good to see you again, Sebastian,” Joshua said, a half-smile on his face, his fingers lightly shredding the paper his straw had come in.

“Not many people say that to me,” Sebastian said, only partially teasing. Joshua laughed, an open genuine sound.

“To be honest, I was a little pissed that you blew me off last winter, but I understand galivanting around Paris with Julian Larson was probably a lot more interesting than me,” Joshua teased, that impish flicker dancing in his eyes. Sebastian snorted, any tension he felt about coming face to face with Joshua again melting away from his shoulders. He did feel bad about ignoring Joshua’s text the year before, especially when he knew the other boy did nothing wrong.

“I wasn’t sure how you felt about me after everything,” Sebastian said. Joshua reached over and patted his hand.

“I was really going through some shit that summer—you were only, like… thirty percent of it.”

Sebastian gasped, acting downright offended. “Only thirty percent??”

Joshua laughed. “Okay, maybe thirty-five.”

“That’s more like it.”

Bailey joined them a couple seconds later. “I’m gone for five minutes and you two already start flirting??”

Joshua and Sebastian both laughed, and Sebastian felt at ease again.

After their first kiss, if they weren’t essentially attached to the hip before, they certainly were after. It was like the two of them couldn’t keep their hands off each other. It had been less than a week after the kiss when Sebastian found himself falling into bed with Joshua on hot summer afternoon, tearing at each other’s clothes in between heated kisses. Joshua was not as submissive in bed as he first seemed, hooking a leg over Sebastian’s waist, and flipping them over, straddling Sebastian with a triumphant smirk. He had ridden Sebastian slowly—almost painfully so—with a hand firmly on his chest, holding him down in place and a look on his face that made Sebastian want to surrender completely to every single one of Joshua’s whims and fantasies.

They still explored where they could, spending three days in the Louvre and tried not to commit blasphemy in the old dusty churches that Joshua was fascinated by. But when the sun and heat bearing down on them became too much, they found shelter at Joshua’s hotel room, Sebastian’s bedroom at his parent’s home, and even once in the study, Sebastian’s hand firmly over Joshua’s mouth as he bent him over the antique desk that his father was so proud of, whispered French lessons of how to properly bring someone to their knees in more than one language.

It had been one of those afternoons that found Sebastian on his back, held down by two firm hands on his chest, looking up at the boy who straddled him like he was a deity—bringing Sebastian to the brink with each roll and jerk of his hips. Joshua grinned down at him, the sunshine peeking through the slats of Sebastian’s shades dappling against his skin, lighting him with divine golden fire.

He knew he was close—in more ways than one—an intense wave roaring from within him and threatening to spill over. Before he let it crest and crash down with crescendo, he suddenly pulled Joshua down, kissing him deeply as his orgasm raged through him. Joshua’s warm mouth swallowed the words that Sebastian hadn’t let bubble over—but it echoed through his head like a heartbeat.

I love you; I love you; I love you.

The skin between them was sticky when Joshua pulled away. He looked down at Sebastian like he wanted to say something but decided against it, kissing the corner of his mouth and rolling off of him. Sebastian’s hand caught Joshua’s and he raised it to his lips, kissing the knuckles tenderly. Joshua watched, a soft expression on his face.

“I think the housekeeper got those ice cream bars this morning. We should grab one before Alphonse eats the entire box,” Sebastian murmured, and Joshua got that impish look that made Sebastian want to keep him in this room for another hour—ice cream bars be damned.

“Bold of you to assume I won’t eat the entire box,” he teased, quickly getting off the bed, stumbling a little from the ache, throwing Sebastian’s robe on. Sebastian quickly followed suit, laughing as he chased Joshua downstairs.

Sebastian knew deep down, even if he never acknowledged it at the time, that this was different than the other boys he spent time with and slept with. This was something special, and he needed to hold tight to it.

Perhaps that was why they were doomed to fail.

The Smythe annual holiday party had been a staple of the social calendar of Paris’s finest since the Smythes returned to France over a decade earlier. Technically a charity event (though for which charity, Sebastian was never sure of), it was never before Christmas (that was too gauche), it was always held in the week between Christmas and New Years—the time of year Sebastian affectionately referred to as akin to the strip of skin between the dick and the asshole.

The kitchen and living rooms were awash with golden lights, the soft sound of people mingling in all different languages—French, German, Japanese—just to name a few. The thing they had in common: an obscene amount of wealth and/or social status. The party also found Sebastian leaning up against a wall, looking positively bored over a glass of champagne. Joshua and Bailey had not arrived yet, though Bailey texted him saying that they were on their way, and Sebastian would rather eat his own arm than try to mingle with one of Reginald’s—or worse, his father’s—colleagues.

“I’m bored,” Alphonse grumbled, flopping down into a chair next to Sebastian. The middle brother grinned a little. He remembered being twelve and how painfully dull this bourgeoisie circle jerk event could be, though getting older had not eased that much.

“Vivienne’s here, don’t you usually hang out with her?” Sebastian asked, jerking his chin slightly to the other twelve-year-old in the room. Alphonse huffed disapprovingly out through his nose, sounding alarmingly like Reginald.

“Girls are weird,” he grumbled, despite having spent the entirety of the previous year’s party playing pretend with her. The light blush on his face; however, betrayed him. Sebastian patted his shoulder sympathetically.

“Girls are only weird if you’re being weird to them first,” Sebastian advised, sipping from his champagne with that I’m Your Older Brother and Parting My Sage Wisdom You Small Dumb Creature look that Reginald had often given him in the past. Alphonse looked up at Sebastian, then over to Vivienne.

“Is that why Reginald doesn’t have a girlfriend?”

“Probably.”

The girl looked around the room, anxious for a familiar face, then lit up when she spotted Reginald in the corner, beelining her way over to them. Alphonse made a choked noise in the back of his throat when he noticed, sinking slightly in his chair. She stopped right in front of Alphonse, nervously fidgeting with her dress. “Hey, Al.”

“Hi Vivi…”

“I was, uh…” she glanced up at Sebastian, at the floor, then back at Alphonse. “I was wondering if you wanted to grab a drink with me? I heard that have sparkling cider…”

“He’d love to!” Sebastian chirped, all but shoving his brother out of the chair. Vivienne did not pick up on this, cheeks pink as she smiled in relief. Alphonse brushed his suit off, shooting Sebastian a glare, his face just as red, as he followed Vivienne to the kitchen.

“Your parents are a lot nicer in person than you made them out to be,” Joshua teased over a glass of champagne. He had dragged the boy to one of his parents’ charity galas, claiming to be desperate to have someone interesting to talk to. In reality, he’d grown quite attached to Joshua, and the idea of them going to an event like this filled him with something warm and terrifying.

“That’s only because they don’t know what to do with you,” Sebastian chuckled, stealing the glass out of Joshua’s hand to drink from it. Joshua’s eyes darkened slightly when their fingers brushed.

“Why? Don’t bring a lot of guys to these sorts of things?” He said, eyes dancing with mischief. Sebastian looked away, that warm feeling threatening to swallow him whole.

“I haven’t brought anyone to these events,” he admitted. Joshua’s smile faltered for a milisecond, his face flushing slightly.

“You haven’t brought anyone to these?”

“No. Well, not until now. You’re the first,” Sebastian admitted, looking back to meet Joshua’s gaze, holding it steadily, feeling his heart leap into his throat. Ignoring all the old stuffy politicians and businesspeople around them, he caught Joshua’s chin with his fingers, kissing him softly. He heard Joshua inhale sharply, fingers wrapping around the lapel on his blazer before he pulled away a few seconds later.

“We should celebrate,” Joshua said with a grin, and Sebastian arched his eyebrows.

“What? By stealing the most expensive bottle of wine and food and leaving?”

“You read my mind.”

“Already setting your brother up?” A familiar voice came from behind him. Bailey stood in a pressed suit—and the green shirt that Sebastian had advised, he noticed smugly—and Joshua not far behind—having opted instead for a classic black and white look.

“I remember being that age,” Sebastian said. “Too horny to function and too awkward to do anything about it. I’m just trying to help him along.”

Bailey hummed, then put a heavy hand on Sebastian’s shoulder with a teasing grin. “That sounds like it sucked for you!”

Sebastian laughed, grateful to have people he knew around him. Last year, he had a certain someone accompany him in his final days in Paris and the two had only stayed for less than a half an hour, just enough to show their faces—but Sebastian was trying to not let that memory permanently stain the future. Maybe that’s why there were still unread text messages burning a hole in his pocket as he planned the next few days with Bailey and Joshua.

“My family has tickets to the opera for tomorrow evening that I know my parents aren’t going to use,” Sebastian said, and the faces of both Tipton boys lit up. There were only a handful of days left before Bailey and Sebastian would have to fly back to Westerville, Ohio to finish out the last few months of their high school career. It hadn’t quite hit Sebastian yet on how quickly the end was approaching. He knew it would be a big change—the shift from youth to adulthood, and yet he felt like he was already in the midst of that change whether he liked it or not.

“I’d love to go,” Joshua said with a warm smile, one that Sebastian remembered all too well. It had accompanied him for an entire summer and then haunted his dreams in the weeks after with the whispers of what if…

“That sounds like fun, I’ve always wanted to go to the opera!” Bailey chimed in. They made plans to meet before Bailey declared himself famished, and the trio made their way to the kitchen, where what was left of the hors oeuvres from the evening sat alone. The conversation naturally shifted back to school as Bailey filled his plate, and Joshua swiped from Bailey.

“I can’t believe we’re almost done!” Bailey said. “Student council is supposed to announce the prom theme at the end of January, but I heard it’ll likely be Gatsby themed.”

“A bunch of rich aristocrats in the making having a party overflowing with forbidden booze and debauchery?” Joshua joked. “Seems a little on the nose, don’t you think?”

Sebastian leaned against the counter. “Don’t we all want to be in some golden romanticized version of the past? It’s easier than dealing with whatever future is looming.”

He didn’t notice how Bailey glanced up at him, a twinge of worry on his face. Joshua’s face melted into one of empathy but reflection. “That’s the thing, isn’t it? The past is only as golden as we color it to be. It always seemed better after the fact than when we were in it.”

“Does it?”

Joshua shrugged. “I’ve found the future is always more exciting than the past. The unknown can be scary, but there’s also so many wonderful things and experiences out there that have yet to be found. If you’re always looking behind you, you’ll never see how beautiful life can be as you move forward.”

“Can you two lighten up a bit? I’d like to go through one holiday without an existential crisis,” Bailey piped up, making the other two laugh. “Either way, I’m just wanting to make it to graduation in one piece, please.”

“I’ll try my best, Bail,” Sebastian said with a smirk. “What about you, Joshua?”

“What about me?”

“How does senior year online work? Virtual prom? Graduation via Sims?” Sebastian said, nudging Joshua’s shoulder, who snickered.

“I had enough credits to graduate early,” Joshua said. “I’m technically now in my ‘gap year’, which is just a nice way of saying that I’m my parents’ unpaid assistant until I start university in next fall.”

“Going to do it online?” Sebastian asked, a little intrigued at the notion of being able to study while traversing the globe. Joshua snorted, obviously less enthused at the idea, having done it for the past year and a half.

“No, I’m getting a little tired of living out of a suitcase. I’m kind of looking forward to being in one place longer than a month and studying in person with other human beings.”

“Josh got early acceptance to Brown,” Bailey said with a pointed look at Sebastian. He pretended not to notice—he still wouldn’t hear back from the schools for another month or two, and even if he did get accepted, he wasn’t sure where he would attend yet.

“Congrats,” he replied instead, his voice genuine. Joshua returned it and then looked down, though Sebastian wasn’t sure if it was out of bashfulness or something else. This wasn’t the first time that he’d found himself in a similar conversation with Joshua.

“My parents are pushing for me to go into international relations or something,” Joshua had said, as they lay stretched out on a blanket under the shade in a nearby park, Sebastian’s head resting in Joshua’s lap. They had run into Reginald earlier, which had left Sebastian in a mood, and Joshua had quickly picked up on it. “But I don’t know. I don’t want to end up like them, but I don’t know what else I can do.”

“Yeah,” Sebastian agreed, feeling Joshua’s fingers running through his hair, picking out the knots—both in his hair and within himself. “I thought about doing music, but the thought of doing theory classes and then being expected to give 110% like I only eat, sleep, and breathe music makes me never want to listen to another song ever again.”

Sebastian sighed heavily, looking up at the clouds as if they’d give him some divine inspiration, like magically form into whatever his path was supposed to be. Or fall from the sky and just crush him so he didn’t have to make the decision at all.

“You want to know what I think?” Joshua said suddenly, and Sebastian looked up at the boy he’d grown rather fond of over the weeks.

“Always.”

“I think you’ll figure it out at the precisely right moment when you’re supposed to,” he replied, and before Sebastian could groan about how horrendously vague that was, Joshua continued. “You might not have the path laid out for you right now—from either lofty dreams or brute parental force—but you’re smarter than you give yourself credit for, Sebastian. I’ve watched you lead me around Paris these past couple of days—you have a perspective on things that is rather refreshing and you’re quicker on your feet than anyone else I’ve met.”

Sebastian pushed down that twinge in his chest that had steadily been growing. He grinned up at Joshua. “See, this is why I keep you around. I need someone to boost my ego constantly.”

“As if it needs any more boosting,” Joshua teased back. Sebastian leaned up on his elbows until their faces were only a couple inches apart.

“I guess I’m just needy like that,” he hummed, seeing Joshua’s eyes glance down at his lips.

“You’re lucky I like feeling needed,” Joshua murmured before closing the gap between them. The heat of Joshua close to him like this was almost too much in the late summer afternoon, but Sebastian would rather burn to ash in Joshua’s arms than freeze to death apart.

He didn’t know when things started to change between them. All he knew was that he stopped answering texts from his regular booty calls and hook-ups, his free time suddenly taken up by Joshua. He wasn’t sure if it was love, at the time—he certainly never called it that if that’s what it was. Love was a dirty word for him—it meant attachment, endings, and settling, and Sebastian was too alive to even think about settling. Joshua seemed content on the outside with whatever non-descript thing that had going between them, but Sebastian didn’t notice, or convinced himself he hadn’t noticed, the second, hopeful, glances and the way his fingers lingered after they let go of each other.

How could you possibly know that you’re falling if you keep your eyes shut?

Sebastian knocked on the hotel door, a plastic bag swinging from his hand as he anxiously shifted from one foot to the other. Joshua answered the door, looking a little tired but mostly worried.

“Thanks for picking stuff up,” Joshua said, taking the bag from Sebastian, who immediately made a beeline to the bathroom door. He knocked lightly on the door.

“Bail, it’s me, can I come in?” Sebastian said, getting only a weak cough in response. Sebastian opened the door anyways, not caring if Bailey didn’t want him to. He had certainly seen Sebastian in a similar position multiple times before. He tried not to react when the sour smell hit his nose, focusing on the pale figure curled by the toilet.

“I’m never eating seafood here ever again,” Bailey rasped, looking positively green. Sebastian wet a washcloth with warm water, squatting next to his roommate to gently wipe his face off.

“Have you had any water?” He asked softly, and Bailey nodded his head then grimaced at the movement.

“I tried, but it came right back up,” he whispered, leaning his forehead against the cool porcelain of the toilet. Sebastian rubbed his back comfortingly as Joshua came into the bathroom with the medicine that Sebastian had picked up.

“Here, B, take this,” he said softly, handing Bailey the medication. Sebastian glanced up at Joshua.

“Are you feeling okay?” he said, not sure what he would do if both Tiptons ended up getting food poisoning. Joshua nodded, though his gaze was on his younger brother.

“I don’t really like shrimp,” he said simply. Bailey shakily took the medicine, then had a swig of water that Sebastian offered him. When it didn’t immediately regurgitate, he leaned back, partially leaning on Sebastian, who held him steady.

“I can take you to a hospital, Bailey,” Sebastian said, rather worried. Bailey shook his head.

“I’ve had food poisoning before, and this is definitely not as bad as that was,” Bailey croaked. “Plus, don’t you two have an opera to get to?”

Sebastian glanced up at Joshua—he had completely forgotten about that in light of Bailey’s recent ailment. “I don’t want to leave you alone.”

Bailey brushed him off, slowly getting to his feet to brush his teeth. “Both of you hovering over me like mother hens in this tiny hotel bathroom isn’t going to help me feel better. Some of us should be able to enjoy Paris.”

The two of them helped Bailey into bed, and Joshua set a trashcan by where he lay, just in case. Sebastian set the water glass on the night stand next to Bailey, placing a hand on his forehead the way he saw his mom had done to him before. He wasn’t running a temperature, and he seemed to have the slightest bit of color start to return to his cheeks. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. I’m just going to sleep and watch French soap operas, maybe eat a couple saltines if I feel up to it,” Bailey said, weakly pushing at his brother and Sebastian. “Go. Mom’s right next door, she can keep an eye on me.”

Joshua looked a little hesitant. “You text me if you need anything, alright? Anything.”

“What I need is for you two to leave so I can have some silence to sleep.”

Joshua still seemed unsure about leaving, and Sebastian couldn’t blame him, but Bailey gave him a pointed look, and Sebastian gently wrapped his fingers around Joshua’s wrist. Joshua glanced back at him, an odd look in his eyes, but Sebastian smiled reassuringly. “He’ll be okay.”

“I like you,” Sebastian slurred slightly, the alcohol they consumed turning the lights and his thoughts as fuzzy as wool. Joshua perked up a little, smiling wide, which turned into giggles as Sebastian leaned over to kiss his neck, as he had done multiple times before.

“Do you?” There was a flush of pink across his cheeks as they leaned on each other, arms wrapped around each other for either support or just the desire for closeness. It was long past midnight, and the other concert-goers were stumbling out of the seedy underground club they had just emerged from, covered in sweat and glitter.

“Mmm…” His brain felt lighter, and it would’ve likely floated into orbit had Joshua not been holding onto him, grounding him on the grimy street. It wasn’t enough, however, to stop the words that would haunt him over a year later when they came out of someone else’s mouth: “We can have fun, like this—keep it casual with no strings attached.”

Joshua’s smile faded, but he pulled Sebastian along, suddenly more sober than he had been all night. “Let’s get you home.”

He didn’t see the heartbroken look on Joshua’s face as he turned away, didn’t notice how his hands shook just slightly as the sinking realization that the boy he had fallen in love with over the past weeks being attached nearly 24/7 didn’t see him as anything more than a summer fling—another casual spark in a long line of briefly lit matches. What Sebastian did know what that Joshua stopped texting him back the next day.

Sebastian had the car pull around as they headed outside, and it was taking it a little longer than expected, Sebastian noted, feeling Joshua lean against him slightly as the cold December wind whipped around them. Joshua tied his scarf a little tighter around himself, his hands buried him his pockets. “I should’ve said this earlier but thank you.”

Sebastian shrugged, the rough fabric of their heavy jackets rubbing against each other with the movement. “You live close to a pharmacy; it was no big deal—”

“No, not just for that. For looking after Bailey,” he said as the car parked in front of them. “I always worry when Bailey heads back to school without me, I know how… intense some of the guys there can be.”

Sebastian opened the door for Joshua. “You mean Logan?”

Joshua gave him a pointed look, but it didn’t hold nearly as much malice as Sebastian would’ve had he been in Joshua’s shoes. It also marked the first time either Blaine or Logan’s names had been spoken aloud between them. “He’s not the only one—he’s just the only one up front about it.”

There was a twinge of bitterness at his final words, and before Sebastian could ask about it, he stepped inside the car. Sebastian sighed in relief at the warm air inside, some feeling coming back to his face.

“Bailey didn’t have any close friends at Dalton before you came around,” Joshua explained as they started the drive to the opera house. “It didn’t seem to bother him, but I know he felt lonely.”

Sebastian wasn’t sure how true that was—Bailey seemed to do just fine in his own company, the addition of himself hadn’t filled some aching void but rather just added some spice. He suspected Joshua, much more extroverted than his younger brother, might be projecting some.

“To be honest, I wasn’t sure about you after our summer fling or whatever. You remind me of a lot of the other guys at Dalton with your bravado and endless trust funds,” Joshua continued, and Sebastian snorted. He would’ve been offended if Joshua wasn’t correct—and he was. He was usually correct. “But you surprised me. And I can tell the connection you have with him is genuine too.”

Sebastian smiled a little, the two of them sitting in silence, only separated by a few inches of the rich leather of the seat. He could see the slow moving, post Christmas traffic around them—they were likely going to be late with how bad it was. “Josh…?”

“Yeah?”

“Look, I…” Sebastian turned to face him, licking his lips a little in nerves. He wanted to say this, had been chewing on it since he heard Joshua was accompanying his brother to Paris for the holidays. “I’m sorry for how things ended. Between us. It was shitty of me to say what I did—”

“Sebastian, stop. You don’t have to apologize to me,” Joshua said, resting a hand on his knee. “I thought there was something more when there wasn’t, it was wrong of me to assume.”

“You didn’t assume wrong.”

That took Joshua back with surprise. “What?”

Sebastian felt like he had been knocking on Joshua’s door for hours when Joshua finally emerged, looking a little annoyed. “What, Sebastian??”

“What do you mean, what?? You dropped off the face of the Earth! I thought we were going to get brunch yesterday, but you didn’t text me back!” Sebastian huffed, more irritated about this than he usually would. He could see Joshua’s room was a mess, suitcases open in the middle of the room and clothes in piles everywhere.

“I leave in three days, I have shit to do,” Joshua said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “My life doesn’t revolve around some casual fling.”

Bitterness dripped from his words, but Sebastian was confused. “Is that not what this is? I told you at the beginning that I wasn’t a relationship person—”

“Sebastian, we went on dinners. Alone. You got me flowers. You met my parents. What the hell else am I supposed to think???”

Sebastian could only stare at Joshua in bewilderment. Something bubbled up in his chest, but he pushed it down. He didn’t do relationships because of this—they always ended up messy and someone getting burned. But he went to far. Joshua was right—there was a point where the line between a being a casual fling and acting like a boyfriend had been blurred, and Sebastian knew he was the one who blurred it. He reached out to Joshua, who pushed him away, walking over to the window. Sebastian followed him.

“Look, J, I know who I am. I’m a really shitty boyfriend in reality. You deserve a lot better than me, you’re kind and generous and clever. You deserve someone whose going to reciprocate that. I’m like, the world’s worst boyfriend,” Sebastian said, and Joshua suddenly turned to him, his eyes filled with unshed tears.

“I fucked my former best friend’s asshole ex-boyfriend behind his back. Nice, kind, generous people don’t do that,” Joshua hissed, rubbing roughly at his face. “You don’t think I deserved a say in what I do and don’t deserve?”

“Joshua—”

“Look, Sebastian. I need you to tell me the truth—after everything you did for me and said to me, did you ever see me as anything more than a fling?”

Sebastian’s heart started pounding. He knew what the answer was.

Joshua deserved to know the truth—

He wasn’t going to get another chance—

This was it—

“No,” Sebastian lied, feeling his gut twist around the word that hung like the stale air outside. Joshua closed his eyes, taking a deep inhale. He pressed his lips together, and when his eyes opened, there was a thick mask in between him and the Joshua he had gotten to know.

“I need to pack, Sebastian,” he said simply. “I’ll text you later.”

Joshua only stared at him in silence after Sebastian finished telling his side of that one day. Around them, traffic had ground to a standstill. At this rate, they would very well likely miss the first half of the opera. “You… you liked me?”

“At the time, yeah…” Sebastian admitted, staring down at his hands. Joshua sat in the admittance, and Sebastian wished he knew what the other was thinking.

“I texted you back,” he finally said.

“You did.”

It was the day that Joshua was to leave Paris, the sky had decided to openly mourn him, drenching Paris with a heavy rain that almost felt like an omen of some kind. Sebastian had fallen horrendously behind on his summer reading—though in his defense, he had a very nice distraction. He hadn’t heard from Joshua, and he hadn’t expected to after how their last interaction went. He was barely paying attention to Persuasion when he heard his mother’s voice call from downstairs—

“Sebastian! You have a guest!”

He was expecting anyone as he pushed himself off of his bed, heading downstairs, his feet thumping softly as he made his way. Standing in the entryway, dripping water from his drenched clothes on his mother’s marble floors, was Joshua Tipton.

“Hey,” Sebastian said, pausing.

“Hey,” Joshua said softly, shuffling a little awkwardly. “I texted you, but I think I ruined my phone.”

He pulled his phone out of his drenched pocket. Sebastian couldn’t help but smile a little. “Did you walk here, J?”

“I did,” Joshua admitted. “I wanted to talk to you face to face, but I didn’t check the weather.”

As if on cue, he shivered slightly in the cool air. Sebastian gestured for him to follow him back to his room. “C’mon. I don’t think your parents will be thrilled if you die of pneumonia because of me.”

He dug around a linen closet before finding a large fluffy towel than they only used for beach days. He wrapped it around Joshua’s shoulders, his fingers lingering for just a half a second before he pulled away. He cleared his throat, looking away.

“You were right,” Joshua said suddenly. Sebastian looked at him in surprise. There was a sad smile on Joshua’s face, and it made something twist inside Sebastian. “We would be terrible in a real relationship. I’m certainly not ready for another one yet. It’s better that it ends here and now before one of us gets hurt.”

Sebastian found himself nodding, despite every cell in his body wanting to do otherwise.

Don’t end it.

“I did mean what I said,” Sebastian said, pulling dry clothes out for Joshua. It was the least he could do. “You do deserve someone great, despite how you feel about yourself right now.”

I want to be that someone.

“So do you. Maybe you’ll find someone when you least expect it, but you deserve it too, Sebastian, and I hope you’ll find it,” Joshua replied, his voice thick.

I already found it.

Sebastian nodded, handing the clothes out for Joshua. “Here. Don’t worry about giving them, back, I was already going to give them away.”

Joshua took the clothes, his fingers cold as they brushed against Sebastian’s hands. Their eyes met and something exchanged wordlessly through that split second gaze that neither were able to bring themselves to vocalize out loud the entire summer. “Thank you.”

I love you.

The silence between them was heavy, but Sebastian had never felt lighter in his life. Joshua was staring at the floor under their feet as if he could burn a hole through it. His expression was unreadable, but Sebastian couldn’t blame him. He’d feel the same in his shoes.

“Do you regret it?” Joshua’s voice was quiet.

“Do I regret what?”

Joshua’s hand flailed in the air for a little. “Do you regret… that summer?”

“No. Except how it ended.” Joshua nodded, swallowing, staring out the tinted windows to the traffic clogged streets. The opera had started twenty minutes ago. “Do you?”

Joshua stared at him, and his gaze told Sebastian everything. “Absolutely not.”

There was that electricity between them again, crackling the heavy air like a thunderstorm brewing. Joshua’s voice was somewhat softer when he spoke again, “And how do you feel about me now?”

Sebastian honestly wasn’t sure how to answer this question. He knew it had been coming, and that still wasn’t enough to find the right words to give to a boy that he had cared so deeply for once.

“I don’t know,” he finally said honestly. “We’ve changed so much since we last saw each other, but… the person sitting before me, I think I’d very much like to get to know.”

Joshua’s inhale was sharp, his eyes alit with an energy that Sebastian knew of very fondly. He didn’t know who moved first, but suddenly their seatbelts were undone, and Joshua was straddling his lap, his hands in Sebastian’s hair and on his face. They kissed with the ferocious rejuvenation of a dying man brought back to the years of his youth. It was déjà vu in the best possible way—every sense and cell filled with Joshua’s essence. Sebastian pulled away slightly.

“Wait, what about the opera—”

“Fuck the opera,” Joshua breathed, pulling Sebastian back in. They certainly weren’t making it now. There wasn’t much they could do in the cramped backseat of the car, but Sebastian managed to get both of their pants undone, stroking them together as he breathed Joshua in.

Joshua gasped against his lips, his hands wandering everywhere—the exposed skin and up under his clothes, mapping out the entirety of Sebastian’s body just through touch. Their winter outerwear lay at a heap at their feet, shirts unbuttoned and nearly ripped open with carnivorous hunger. Their teeth and tongues clashed in desperation, trying to fit the last year and a half apart in the very short amount of time they had left together.

“Fuck, Sebastian,” Joshua groaned against his skin, rocking his hips slightly, and Sebastian was grateful he chose the car with the divider. Sebastian slowly coaxed an orgasm out of him, kissing him hard enough that he wouldn’t be surprised if he left bruises, but Joshua seemed to glow under the rough and desperate attention, his fingertips digging into Sebastian’s ribcage.

“That’s it, J,” Sebastian murmured, bringing one hand up to cup the back of Joshua’s head, his fingers threading in the soft curls. “Come for me…”

Joshua pressed his face against Sebastian’s shoulder as he came—hard—into Sebastian’s hand, the other not far behind him. Joshua pulled away slightly, gently pushing the hair out of Sebastian’s face, kissing him deeply, drinking up every last drop of him available. When he rolled off, Sebastian pulled out tissues, cleaning them off as they got themselves back together, sweaty and breathless.

“Can you—?” Joshua waved weakly to the air controls. Sebastian turned the air down, and they both sighed in relief. Sebastian blinked as his thoughts slowly reformed into cohesive sentences again.

“What… does this mean we are…?” Sebastian glanced over at Joshua, who was buttoning up his shirt. Joshua leaned over and kissed Sebastian sweetly.

“No,” he chirped. “You need to sort your shit out with Julian Larson first. I’m not anyone’s second soloist anymore.”

Sebastian choked over his words, though he wasn’t surprised Bailey had told Joshua about his ongoing Thing that he had left unresolved back in Ohio. Joshua, however continued, “But when you do, well… you have my phone number.”

It had been a week since Joshua left, and Sebastian was left with this gnawing emotion in his chest that felt horribly like regret. He was not a relationship person—and there was a reason he told himself and others that. He hated being stuck in the what ifs of life, much preferring to be absolutely and completely in the moment, no matter how detached it made him seem to others.

He had managed to convince his parents to let him have reign over his mother’s old apartment—able to come and go freely as he pleased, not tied down by anyone’s expectations of him. As he packed up his things in his childhood boxes, he also packed away any memory he had of Joshua. For better or worse, that was done now, and all he could do was move forward and not himself make the same mistakes.

Julian didn’t know it at the time, but this was their very first deal. Even though Joshua may have been the first, Sebastian knew it wasn’t going to be the last time that some pretty boy would trapeze into his life, vying for his heart. He wasn’t going to let it happen again, he swore that to himself as he stared down at Joshua’s final text.

Thank you for everything. I’ll always remember it well. X

Chapter Text

The holiday break sped by way too quickly for Sebastian’s liking, and soon he found himself, unfortunately, back in Ohio. The asscrack of the nation. The deodorant-less armpit of the republic. He didn’t know what to expect for the semester—it was their very last semester. Applications to colleges had all been sent out, their GPA and ranking had been frozen for graduation, and all that was left were AP exams and all the “fun” senior activities to give one last hoorah to their high school education. Ordinarily, one might expect Sebastian to be nostalgic and reminisce on the golden years of his youth—but to be honest, he found that all bullshit and was more than ready to move on. He’d be damned if he was going to end up like one of those assholes who peaked in high school. So, he came into the new year, new semester with no expectations, ready to take each day as it came.

That being said, he certainly was not expecting Blaine Anderson to be banging on his door on only the second day back from vacation. Bailey exchanged him a look as Sebastian crossed the room and opened the door. Only Sebastian could warrant an aggressive attack on their door; sweet un-problematic Bailey could never make anyone that angry, especially Blaine, Sebastian noted in the Windsor’s eyes, his mouth set in a hard frown.

“Anderson the Smaller, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Sebastian said, a grin oozing easily on his face. Blaine’s eyebrows were knitted together in an array of emotions, none of which seemed positive.

“I need to talk to you,” he said tightly, his voice as stiff as his shoulders.

“If you’re asking me to rejoin the Warblers, the answer is no—”

“I know you and Kurt hooked up.”

Oh.

Oh shit.

Sebastian closed the door behind them, spotting Bailey’s incredulous expression out the corner of his eye. He led Blaine outside, a seemingly innocuous spot, but it just so happened to be right under their window as he knew Bailey would be pretending he wasn’t eavesdropping. Better that than trying to explain this whole mess twice.

“Why do you care? I thought you and he had broken up,” Sebastian said calmly, arms crossed over his chest. If Logan was an open book that shouted its contents to whichever poor soul tried to read it, Blaine was one of those diaries that could only be opened with a key that had long been lost to dust and time. He was completely unreadable—save for the personality and emotions he chose to express around others. The Windsors thought they had the short Warbler captain completely figured out, but Sebastian could tell that there were layers to Blaine that perhaps Blaine didn’t even know about.

“We had.”

“So why do you care?”

Blaine ran a stressed hand through his hair, freeing some of the dark curls from the gel he wore constantly. Sebastian let himself admire the way his curls framed his face for a brief moment. Whoever told Blaine he looked better with his hair glued to his scalp like that needed to get their eyes and brain checked (which means it was likely Logan). “I just want to know why. I thought—I thought that maybe…”

“Kurt knew you went on a date,” Sebastian said, and Blaine immediately froze—either from shock or guilt, only time and intense probing would tell. “Did you?”

Blaine inhaled deeply through his nose as if the air in his lungs could somehow ground him to the grass below his sneakers. Sebastian believed that if Blaine tried to ground himself any more, he’d end up halfway through the Earth’s crust. “I guess… technically, yes.”

Sebastian sighed; he had no idea how he ended up being the relationship counselor between these two idiots. “Well then, there’s your answer. You moved on. So did he.”

“It wasn’t like that!” Blaine’s eyes were wide as he caught Sebastian’s sleeve as if Sebastian had any say in this matter.

“You just said it was a date,” Sebastian said slowly, wondering how much Friends that Blaine had consumed. Sebastian had to start a tv/movie club or something just to get them out of washed out 90s sitcoms.

“It was, but it wasn’t supposed to be,” Blaine started. “It’s a long story, but I really didn’t mean anything more by it!”

Sebastian sighed heavily—he really needed to get a better hobby than being the go-between of every dramatic storyline of every gay guy at this brainless school. When did he suddenly become the relationship expert?? He was about to dismiss Blaine when he saw Julian and his team heading up to Stuart house—late as always—with all of Julian’s belongings. Avoiding him, as he had been since Julian returned from filming was enough motivation for Sebastian to say—

“Luckily for you, I have time, Blaine.” Sebastian gestured for Blaine to continue. Blaine shuffled awkwardly, perpetually uncomfortable and out of place.

“Standing out here feels weird,” Blaine said, glancing up at Stuart House. “And I know Bailey is listening in. Can we at least go get coffee somewhere?”

How the hell could Blaine tell that?? Sebastian was careful not to let the incredulous emotion reach his face—of course the former prefect of the most gossip-y house would know when someone was eavesdropping.

“Already asking me out on a date?” Sebastian teased, wiggling his eyebrows a little, figuring he had nothing to lose by shooting his shot. “Color me impressed, Anderson, I heard rumors that you tend to move at a snail’s pace when it comes to romance.”

“It’s just the cafeteria, get your head out of the gutter,” Blaine grumbled, which made Sebastian laugh as they trudged away from the dorm to the Main Building.

“You owe me a story, by the way, and please make it semi-interesting so I can justify not spending my afternoon napping in the sun like some spoiled pet,” Sebastian sighed, earning an irritated glare from Blaine.

“Why did I even—fine. I got reconnected with someone who knew Ju—a former friend of mine from my old school last summer,” Blaine started, shoving his hands in his pockets. Sebastian had heard bits and pieces of the story of Jude Whittaker—from Bailey, Logan, Joshua, and Kurt—but he knew better than to pry where he didn’t belong, to pick at other people’s scabs that were already struggling to heal. “They used to email a lot about photography—he went to some arts school in New York—and he was wanting to send me the portfolio of my friend’s old work.”

Blaine crossed his arms, shoulders tightening, as they approached the coffee counter, and Sebastian vaguely wondered if this was a tactic that lingered from his old school—making himself smaller and stiffer. Harder to land a proper blow. “So, you’ve been talking to this guy…”

“Alex. Er—Alexander Lee is his full name.”

“Alex since this past summer. Which happens to fall on the timeline a few months before you and Kurt broke up…?”

Blaine levelled Sebastian with a dark glare, who only innocently handed him a coffee cup in response, not the least bit intimidated. Hard to be intimidated by someone whose top of his head barely reached Sebastian’s chin. “I did not cheat. I wouldn’t do that to Kurt.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow as he stirred sugar into his own coffee. Blaine huffed a little in irritation before continuing, “It was just about photography and what they used to talk about.”

“Until…?” Sebastian sipped the coffee. Tasted like shit. It was good to be back.

Blaine took a moment, looking at the floor. Sebastian knew what was coming next, but he wanted to hear it out loud from Blaine himself, and he suspected Blaine needed to say it aloud as well. “Kurt and I broke up, and he was in town for an internship, and one thing led to another, and—”

“You hooked up. With someone who isn’t Kurt.”

“It was just one date, we didn’t—” he lowered his voice, which almost made Sebastian chuckle because he was fairly certain he heard certain blonde twins from Windsor loudly discussing Kurt and Blaine’s sex life in this same cafeteria months earlier. “We didn’t even have sex. I didn’t even realize it was a date until halfway through!”

“But it got back to the Dalton gossip vine, where Kurt heard it from,” Sebastian said, sipping nonchalantly from his coffee, ignoring Blaine’s wince. “Did you know he was upset by it?”

Blaine scoffed, and Sebastian could feel the thick walls he used to keep himself safe snapping up between them—an unsaid and unspoken barrier. “And yet he still slept with you—”

“Blaine.” Sebastian rolled his eyes.

“Which I don’t even—I’m struggling to wrap my head around why you—”

“Blaine. Shut up and listen to me,” Sebastian said, his voice sterner than before. “I’m not telling you he was upset because I’m trying to make you feel bad.”

Blaine’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

Sebastian sighed and sat down on the one of the benches that lined the hallway, watching the students mill about casually before the stress of the semester really started. He patted the empty spot next to him. Blaine hesitated before sitting down next to him.

“Kurt’s affections for you are not a competition. I doubt they ever were. You don’t have to keep fighting for them, but—and you really need to listen to me about this—when you do, you’re just pushing him away.”

Blaine leaned on his elbows, staring ahead, and Sebastian was struck by the vague semblance to the statue of the Thinker—of Dante staring down his imagined nine circles of hell, creating punishment for himself (and by consequence, those around him as well) in some misguided attempt to give order and purpose to a dark and unfair world. Sebastian wondered if he should send Blaine the number of Bailey’s therapist. “I thought the same, before…”

Sebastian interjected, “This isn’t about Joshua, Blaine.”

Blaine’s head snapped up at the mention of the other Tipton brother. “How did you—”

“Unimportant. Kurt is a wholly other person with completely different desires and wants. The only person you have to win over is him. Not me, not Logan, no one else. This relationship or whatever is just between you two, don’t drag anyone else into it—unless you’re into that. Which, of course, then I have to volunteer as being the one dragged.”

Blaine snorted derisively but sat in his words for a moment, letting them really sink in for once. Sebastian knew that the beginning of their relationship was rocky, how Logan interjected himself like an unwanted fart into places he didn’t belong, but seeing the way that Kurt talked about Blaine—there was never any competition.

Blaine glanced over at Sebastian, who could feel his walls start to crumble over the strain of having to keep them up since he and Kurt broke it off. Blaine really was—still—hopelessly in love with Kurt. “I still don’t understand—why you?”

Sebastian shrugged. “We had a project together. I was there. We were horny. That’s it.”

“That’s it?”

Sebastian smiled. “That’s it.”

Blaine looked away again, but he relaxed considerably, the tenseness easing from his shoulders. “I didn’t want to break up with him.”

“I know.”

Blaine made a noise that almost sounded like a choke of a laugh. “Really.”

“We mostly talked about you, I’m surprised you didn’t go into a sneezing fit as a result and sneezed out the remainder of your brain cells.”

“But…” Sebastian could see the wheels turning in Blaine’s head. “But you slept together?”

That poor sweet puritanical Windsor. He almost sounded straight. “Sex is just how I connect with people. I know it can mean something deeper for others, but it just… doesn’t for me. It never has. Maybe that’s not the healthiest way to look at it, but if both people are on the same page, then what’s the harm? Also—it wasn’t really sleeping together, more like a glorified jerk off session.”

Blaine immediately flushed bright red, looking away. “I guess… I guess it always meant more to me?”

“Sex in general or sex with Kurt?”

Blaine rubbed his neck, looking like he wasn’t quite sure why he was having this conversation with Sebastian of all people. Sebastian wasn’t quite sure either—yet here they were. Having one of the most productive conversations Blaine had likely had of sex since he first had been given The Talk. “Both…? I don’t know.”

“I think that’s a better conversation to have with him, not me. All of this—I don’t think you two are as over as you might think you are.”

Blaine chuckled a little, a relieved look spreading across his face that was rather refreshing to see. Blaine was rather handsome when he didn’t look so constipated all the time.

“So… this thing with Alex? Is it over?” Sebastian asked.

“Oh absolutely. There wasn’t really anything there to begin with,” Blaine said quickly.

“Cool…” Sebastian glanced over at Blaine. “Can I have his number?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Boo,” Sebastian whined, leaning back. “I want to get to know the homewrecker that split apart Windsor’s power couple.”

Blaine laughed, shoving a little at Sebastian. “No. He’s actually rather sweet, paid for my meal and everything, we just didn’t have any chemistry.”

“You mean all I had to do was bribe you with food, and I could’ve been Dalton’s biggest homewrecker?” Sebastian teased, leaning a little closer to Blaine, who didn’t pull away, but Sebastian could see his ears turning red again.

“You’re already a homewrecker,” Blaine retorted.

Sebastian grinned. “I could stand to wreck a little more.”

“Are you propositioning me?”

“I’m always up for any position, Blaine, you should already know that about me.”

Blaine actually laughed, leaning away from Sebastian. “I’m going to have to decline your rendezvous, I have someone I need to ask to be my boyfriend again.”

“Aww,” Sebastian mock pouted, and Blaine relented just slightly to kiss his cheek.

“Not in this lifetime, at least,” Blaine huffed, finishing his coffee.

“So, you’re saying I have a chance in another lifetime?”

Blaine grinned—an impish expression that he’d seen a matching one on Kurt’s face before. “Why do I get the sense that you’d still be an asshole no matter what lifetime we’re in?”

Sebastian held a hand to his heart in mock shock as Blaine stood up, brushing invisible dust (or Sebastian's sins) off of his pants. “At least I’d be an adorable asshole?”

“I don’t know—you’d probably throw a slushie in my face.”

“I’d at least make it a red one. The color of passion!”

“You’d lace it with rock salt and break my eyeball.”

“You don’t know that!!”

All Sebastian got in response was a laugh from Blaine. He watched Blaine leave and let his fantasy run wild for a moment. Of Blaine getting even with Kurt by pulling Sebastian into a spare closet, pushing him against the wall with a searing kiss, fumbling awkwardly with their belt buckles and pant zippers until Sebastian took over. He’d push Blaine against the wall, careful not to knock over whatever cleaning equipment was stored there, rubbing this tip of his finger against Blaine’s entrance, teasing him mercilessly until Blaine was begging for Sebastian to fuck him. He’d do it, obviously, painfully slow but going deep with each thrust, drawing out each moan from the core of his being until Blaine came—ropes of white liquid splattering against the wall he was pressed against that they’d have to clean up.

But real life didn’t work like that—not without unwanted consequences that came with it, and Blaine was a much better person than Sebastian was. He’d never even dream of putting Kurt in that situation.

Sebastian sighed, pushing the thought out of his head before it became a problem and pulled out his phone. The notifications on his home screen showed he had a couple of texts.

One was from Julian—he deleted that one immediately.

Another from Han—it was a link to a game coming out the next week. Looked like fun. He texted back a thumbs up and winky face emoji.

One was from Derek, asking if he was still on for studying later that week. Overachiever—didn’t anyone tell him that rankings were frozen? He replied in the affirmative, telling Derek that he better bring coffee.

Another was from Joshua—it was a picture of a fat pigeon sitting on a street in Amsterdam. Sebastian responded, asking if this was a selfie of Joshua after visiting the red-light district. He then received an actual selfie of Joshua flipping him off.

He threw his empty coffee into the trash can, sending Kurt a quick text: “It was fun while it lasted, K ;)” and ignored the immediate “???” that he got in response. Kurt would understand soon. Sebastian headed back into the Stuart dorm, scrolling through social media and seeing pictures of his friends back in Paris, and he absent-mindedly wondered if he finally reached some degree of popularity at Dalton.

Suddenly, he found himself outside the door to his room and standing in front of Julian, who was sitting in front of the door. “Julian.”

Julian raised his face, he looked tired and annoyed. “Sebastian—can we talk?”

Sebastian sighed and stepped over him to get into his room—that Bailey had conveniently left. He knew it was unreasonable to be able to avoid Julian forever, they went to the same school, lived in the same room, hell, Julian lived down the hall from him. And yet, he couldn’t help but feel annoyed that he hadn’t managed to avoid this until graduation and then pretend that he “lost” Julian’s phone number.

“What do we have to talk about?” The words came out colder than he expected, but he didn’t look back to see if it had any effect on Julian.

“You’re avoiding me.” Julian’s voice was uncharacteristically small. Hurt.

“I’m not.”

“You are. You went to hang out with Blaine when you saw I came back.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “How could you possibly know that was about you—”

“You turned around and left a study room when you saw I was in it.”

Well, that was harder to blow off. Sebastian crossed his arms over his chest, feeling some sort of emotion start to bubble up in his chest. “I’m sorry I’m not bending over backwards at your every beck and call, Julian. I have a life outside of you—especially since you don’t want me part of yours.”

That was meant to come out coldly. Julian’s head jerked back as if he had been slapped.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sebastian laughed humorlessly. “D’you really think I’m that stupid, Larson? I know we had that deal or whatever, but you don’t even treat me like a friend. I’m just someone you fuck and then toss out when you gallivant back to Hollywood!”

“You’re not… that’s not…” Julian started, trying to dredge up any excuse to keep him placated.

But Sebastian was on a roll this time and there wasn’t anything he had to lose by holding back. “You have a lot of shit you need to work on, and I get it, I really do, but I’m tired of being dragged through it for you because you’re too chickenshit to face your own emotions! I don’t need you to be my boyfriend or whatever, but at the very least, treat me like I’m an actual fucking human and not a fucking side character in your bullshit coming-of-age movie!”

Julian’s mouth was agape in shock. Sebastian wondered if anyone had ever been that forward with him before. He hoped so. Julian needed it. The shock morphed into anger—real anger that not even the shiniest of Julian’s masks could hide.

“You know what—fuck you, Smythe.” He stormed out of the room, slamming Sebastian’s door behind him. Sebastian let out a shaky exhale, feeling his legs give out as his sat down heavily onto his bed. He felt oddly relieved, despite the fact that Julian was definitely pissed at him. He was only angry because Sebastian was right and he knew it. Sebastian flopped backwards on his bed, hearing a smaller slam of a door down the hall—likely Julian’s. He didn’t need Julian anymore, he realized as his phone buzzed in his pocket, signaling someone had texted him. He had made his own way at Dalton without him after all.

Chapter Text

Sebastian Smythe had not considered Shane Anderson a likely match when he first met the younger Anderson brother. He was curls and energy and bright sunny smiles—the very antithesis of the brooding moody antihero that most Parisians deluded themselves into believing they were. He was all American, the very definition of a California boy that would put even Julian to shame, and his presence took up twice the space he did whenever he entered the room.

However, time and circumstances brought them together more than once, and Sebastian found a kindred spirit in Shane—they were both shameless chaos gremlins with a common enemy (Logan Wright). When Shane had swapped out Logan’s Warblers captain’s chair with one with much shorter legs, Sebastian had audibly snorted and asked if Blaine (who looked much taller in comparison) had a growth spurt recently. Shane had beamed with impish pride. When Sebastian had programmed Logan’s keyboard to only make Lil John’s “Yeah!” sound at different notes, Shane had nearly peed himself from giggling at the very first note of Logan’s defiled duel. Their very first collaboration was when they covered the entirety of the Warblers Hall in googly eyes, down to every last piano key. It was a sight to behold, and Sebastian’s proudest moments, especially when Bailey chastised them, calling them “menaces to polite society”.

They were not quite friends, per se, more like allies in an uptight and fussy world that neither would ever quite fit into, even if they wanted to. Which is how Sebastian found himself standing in front of a very bored looking Shane, who was sitting outside of the Warblers Hall.

“Blaine kick you out again?” Sebastian asked. He had long since quit the Warblers, having grown tired of the self-important indulgence in, frankly, rather deluded dreams of success.

“Yeah,” Shane sighed, kicking at an imaginary rock, failing to look the least bit remorseful for (once again) being ejected from Warblers practice. Had it been anyone else, they would’ve likely been permanently kicked out of the a cappella group, but Shane was universally beloved by the Windsors that dominated the group, was one captain’s brother and the other captain’s Constant Guilt Trip for his previous Bad Behavior to said brother. He was never going to be permanently removed. “Blaine didn’t like my idea of a mash-up of 'Pony' and 'Whistle' for Sectionals. Said it was vulgar and inappropriate for a high school competition.”

“Lame.”

“I know, right?”

Sebastian chuckled a little. Banter with Shane came easy when it felt like they were the only two on the same brain wave. Sebastian glanced to the heavy double doors when noises that sounded like a One Direction mash-up began. Of course. “Do you want to get out of here? I can’t imagine you’ll miss much.”

“Yes please,” Shane said immediately, a little more eager than Sebastian expected. He grabbed his backpack and followed him down the hall. Sebastian had a few inches on Shane, and his strides were long as they walked down the hallway, but Shane kept up with him easily, his footsteps light and quick—the mark of a long-time dancer.

“I think the new lit teacher hates me,” Shane sighed, unprompted. He was never one to let silences linger too long.

“Already? Didn’t they just start?” Sebastian asked with a half-smile. Murdoch had been fired after going on a long and absolutely unhinged tirade on a student that got caught by the Headmaster. Nobody had been particularly sad to see him go, including and especially his seeming golden student, who had witnessed the event—Logan himself. But it did create a predicament for the administration, who found it difficult to replace the role with someone who was… prepared for the special challenges that teaching at Dalton Academy provided. Keeping a substitute on longer than a week while trying to find a permanent replacement was becoming quite the Mount Everest to surmount.

“Yeah, she gave me detention when I called Romeo a thot on my paper,” Shane sighed, and Sebastian bit back the smile from creeping onto his face.

“He is a thot, though.”

“Right! Some people just can’t handle the truth. Reed thinks I could’ve worded it better,” Shane replied. The two of them found themselves in line at the café within the school cafeteria. Sebastian ordered coffee, per usual, and Shane ordered hot chocolate with extra whipped cream. Sebastian wondered what Shane pumped full of caffeine was like, if how he normally was needed zero help from any form of caffeine whatsoever.

“How is Reed, by the way?” Sebastian asked. He hadn’t spoken to the short artist since Paris Fashion Week. Shane sipped his drink, getting a smudge of whipped cream on the tip of his nose. Sebastian resisted the urge to wipe it off, either with his finger or his tongue. He boasted of being a homewrecker, but he liked Shane and Reed enough to know better.

“Fine, he got his acceptance letter back from Parsons, which is exciting for him,” Shane replied, the upbeat tone wavering just slightly.

“Tell him I said congratulations, though I think he already had them wrapped around his finger,” Sebastian said, and Shane chuckled a little. Reed had definitely made an impact at the recent New York Fashion week; he could skip university and start his career right out of high school if he wanted to, but Reed was very insistent that he attend. Sebastian glanced at Shane. “You don’t seem excited, though…?”

Shane shrugged. “I am, it’s just… weird having him be so far.”

Sebastian regarded Shane for a moment. The shift from Dalton Academy to a university setting had been the same reason his brother and Kurt had broken things off (though Sebastian had heard they had patched things up recently, resulting in Reed complaining about not being able to sleep in his own room most nights of the week). Blaine and Shane seemed to have completely different outlooks on life, but maybe Sebastian had misjudged the Anderson brothers, and they were more alike than he originally thought.

“Worried that he’s going to meet some hot designers at his fancy school?” Sebastian asked, keeping his tone light. Shane then started laughing.

“I mean, if he doesn’t, then we wasted so much time getting his dating profile set up,” Shane replied, and Sebastian nearly choked on his coffee. He had not heard of Shane and Reed splitting on the Dalton gossip grape vine. As far as he knew, the two were as steady and strong as ever. To the point that Kurt grumbled on occasion how annoyingly in love they were.

“His what??” Sebastian asked, and it was Shane’s turn to grin impishly at Sebastian.

“I’m surprised you didn’t know; you are the biggest whore Dalton has ever seen,” he teased, poking Sebastian’s arm. “Reed and I are in an open relationship.”

Sebastian could’ve caught and swallowed a fly with how long his mouth was agape. Shane reached over to close it. “Sorry… I just—”

“How heteronormative of you, I’m disappointed, Smythe.”

Sebastian sulked. Little shit. “Well, I’m sorry. You two just don’t seem like… the type.”

Shane shrugged. “I didn’t think I was at first, but it started when we both realized we were crushing on my old ex, Micah, and we talked a lot about it and just… found an arrangement that works for us. We’re still each other’s primary partner, I guess you would say, but we still have flings and stuff on the side. It works, and it’s even brought us closer.”

They found themselves in the back stairway that rarely anyone used, and Shane sat down in the sunlight. He lounged lazily on the stairsteps, the very picture of casual beauty, looking up at Sebastian standing in front of him. “And yet you’re upset about him leaving…?”

Shane chuckled, the sunlight dancing across his face. “Well, yeah. He’s, like, my favoritest person in the whole world. Of course, it’s going to be weird not having him here next year. It’s called missing someone you love, Bas.”

Sebastian huffed, slightly insulted, sitting next to Shane, close enough that their arms were brushing against one another’s. It felt different this time, even though they had been in this close physical proximity before. Sebastian had always shut off that side of his brain around Shane out of respect for him and Reed. “I still can’t get my head wrapped around Dalton’s seemingly most monogamous couple being in an open relationship.”

Shane grinned over at Sebastian. “I’m still surprised you didn’t. I had been flirting pretty obviously with you.”

Sebastian looked up at Shane, letting his gaze linger on the lips curved into a mischievous smile. Shane leaned closer in response, and Sebastian could feel his hand slide up his thigh. “I didn’t notice.”

“You are now.”

He did notice indeed, closing the gap between him and Shane, pulling Shane into a deep kiss. He tasted of chocolate and forbidden fruit that Sebastian didn’t realize how much he hungered for. Shane’s hands curled into Sebastian’s shirt, suddenly straddling his lap, and Sebastian’s hands wandered new territory that had been off-limits for so long—thighs, ass, waist—as Shane bore down on him with an energy that rivalled Sebastian’s own. Their tongues danced against each other in a heated tango. Shane moaned softly into Sebastian’s mouth, rolling his hips down against his and Sebastian could feel Shane hardening through the thick fabric of his pants.

Sebastian knew it was risky as he grinded up against Shane, hands slipping up and underneath Shane’s shirt. They were very much out in the open—anyone could walk by at any moment and catch them, but the thrill of being caught turned Sebastian on so much. It was sinfully exhibitionistic, the two of them fucking on the staircase with no thought of any consequence that may arise. Sebastian could ride through multiple orgasms on that thought alone. That is, until they heard footsteps approaching them. Shane suddenly sprang away from Sebastian. A Hanover passed by them, heading down the stairs, too focused on his phone to notice the red flush on their cheeks and the way they pointedly avoided each other’s gaze.

“I don’t particularly feel like getting expelled today,” Shane admitted with a half-grin that told Sebastian that a good part of him also wouldn’t regret it either. Sebastian leaned in, kissing the corner of Shane’s mouth.

“That classroom over there—it’s only used for the first two periods,” Sebastian murmured, his lips brushing against Shane’s lips as he spoke, feeling them curve up into a smile. They scrambled almost comedically fast off the staircase, running into the empty classroom, shutting and locking the door behind them. Shane sat at a desk in the front row, grinning up at Sebastian, who shed his blazer. Despite the chill that clung to the February afternoon, he was boiling in the jacket.

Shane rested his chin in his hands, slowly moving his thighs apart to reveal the still semi-hard bulge straining against his uniform pants. He mock-pouted up at Sebastian.

“Is there any way I can get extra credit?” he crooned in a tone that almost turned Sebastian feral. Sebastian slid on top of the desk, lifting Shane’s chin up with his fingers.

“Didn’t take you to be so kinky,” he murmured as he leaned in.

“You have no idea,” Shane responded, kissing Sebastian heatedly. Sebastian only let it go for a minute before pulling away, earning a noise of disapproval from Shane.

“Get up against the teacher’s desk,” Sebastian commanded, standing up, ignoring Shane’s perfect pink pout that he very much wanted to kiss. Or fuck.

“What?”

Sebastian pulled a condom and lube from his bag before glancing up at Shane with a wicked smirk. “Don’t make me ask twice.”

That was enough to get Shane moving, and Sebastian heard his breath hitch slightly at the stern tone in Sebastian’s voice. He undid his belt as he leaned up against the desk. Sebastian saunted up to him, pressing light kisses on Shane’s lips, his jaw, and his neck before roughly grabbing Shane’s hips, spinning him around until he faced the desk. Sebastian pushed Shane’s pants down, and they plopped ungracefully onto the floor.

Sebastian knew early on in his sexual activity that he was a true switch—never fully settled into one role or another, always ambiguous and always up for something different. He had experiences where he had been fully dominated by his partner, like with Logan, completely surrendering himself to their every whim and desire and allowed himself to be fucked so thoroughly that he felt as if he’d be absorbed into the other person’s being. And then there were times like this—where he was the dominant one, fully in charge and drawing every moan and wriggle out of the other person until they were completely spent. Both were incredibly fun, and it had been far too long since he had railed someone instead of being the one being railed.

Sebastian coated his fingers with lube, pushing Shane down until he was completely bent over the desk and teased his entrance, receiving needy whimpers from the other. “You know Shane… all you had to do was ask if you really wanted this.”

Shane’s breaths came in sharp exhales, and he pushed back against Sebastian’s hand so damn desperate to get fucked. He will, in time, Sebastian thought, but he was going to make Shane wait just a little bit longer. “I—I…”

“I need you to ask for it, Shane, if you really want it,” Sebastian crooned, leaning forward to kiss the back of Shane’s neck, kneading the soft flesh of Shane’s ass. He knew Shane could feel his own hard cock pressing against his thigh, teasing him with what he wanted but was not being allowed to have. Yet.

He slowly pushed one finger in until the second knuckle, and Shane moaned lowly, pressing his face into his arm, his body trembling with the force of his own need, oozing out of his skin and threatening to make him burst. “I need you to say—Sebastian, would you please fuck me? Can you do that for me, baby?”

Shane caught his breath in gulps, and Sebastian could practically see his braincells fizzling with the difficulty in forming a coherent thought, let alone vocalizing it. “Seb-Sebastian, w-wo—”

Sebastian smirked, pushing a second finger in, and cutting him off. Shane wriggled in place, hands clenched against the old oak desk that they were certainly defiling. “What was that?”

Shane took a deep breath, bracing himself. Sebastian could feel him clench deliciously around his fingers, and he bit his lip hard against a moan of anticipation. “Sebastian, will you fuck me…?”

Sebastian slowly moved his fingers in and out of Shane, fingertips feeling him from the inside out, taking his time. “I didn’t hear the magic word, Shane.”

Shane made a noise of frustration, glancing back at Sebastian, the perfect image of sexual frustration and desire. “Please. Would you please fuck me??”

And there it was. “That’s a good boy.”

Sebastian pulled his fingers out to undo his own pants, rolling the condom on his own achingly deprived dick. Once it was lubed up enough, he positioned himself behind Shane, pushing deep inside him, biting back a gasp at how wonderfully tight Shane was. Shane moaned his name against the wood of the desk, not too loud so they wouldn’t get caught. Sebastian took a moment for himself to get adjust, focusing on anything other than Shane to keep himself from finishing this wild romp before he wanted to. Once he had enough control of himself, he slowly thrusted in and out, feeling Shane respond around him with just as much eagerness.

“Sebastian… Sebastian… Sebastian…” Shane’s murmured words almost sounded like the religious chant at his mother’s church, and he matched the pace of their shared movements with his words. Sebastian had never been so turned on by the sound of his own name before—but the way Shane said it made him feel like a low-level deity, being prayed to as a last ditch attempt to bring rain after years of drought.

The power of that feeling oozed into his thrusts, and they became more and more forceful and Shane bit back against cries of pleasure as Sebastian gripped his hips, fucking him hard and fast. He could not keep up this pace forever, he knew, and his own body would betray him soon enough, pushing him faster into climax than if he had stayed at the original pace. But he simply could not help himself—Shane was too perfectly exquisite, from the dance-toned shape of his body to the way his supple lips parted in feverous ecstasy, for Sebastian to not break him down completely, ensuring every cell of Shane’s body would be left with an echo of Sebastian resounding through him for the remainder of the day, week, or maybe month.

Sebastian eventually could not control himself any longer—muffling his cry against Shane’s shoulder blade as he came deep inside him. Shane followed not long after, clenching around Sebastian as his orgasm shook a hurricane throughout his body. Sebastian used the last off his strength to push himself off of Shane and collapsing into the seat. He could see Shane’s cum dripping down the side of the desk in fat dollops—they’d have to clean that up before they left.

“Are you going to tell Reed about this?” Sebastian asked when he finally caught his breath. Shane grinned, face flushed still.

“After that? Absolutely I am.” Sebastian smirked as he pulled the condom off, careful not to make more of a mess than they already had. He helped Shane put his clothes back on, wiping the cum off the desk (he would’ve asked Shane to lick off his own mess if Shane didn’t look like he was using his entire willpower to stay upright). “You certainly know how to do things with a bang.”

Sebastian grabbed Shane by his loose tie, pulling him in for a breathless kiss, tasting the saltiness of sweat on his lips. He knew this wasn’t the last time he was going to be seeing Shane like this. Hopefully Reed too. “You know where to find me, Shane—no dancing around it this time, pun intended.”

Shane laughed against Sebastian’s lips, his boundless energy slowly returning to him. With a bang, indeed.

Chapter Text

"Being able to find someone you click with so naturally is the best feeling ever. You feel like you've been best friends your whole life, it feels like coming home. Maybe that's what a soulmate is. Not someone who shares every single thing in common with you, but someone who feels like home."

Sebastian had heard vaguely of the term “platonic soulmates” before he had moved to Dalton. He had dismissed it without a second thought, of course. Everyone had best friends, right? Ignoring the fact that he certainly didn’t have anyone he would really consider a best friend at the time—plenty of friends and acquaintances, people he hung out with at and outside of school or people he could count on to get him invitations to events. Never anyone he felt close enough to open up to.

That was before he met Bailey. He knew of Bailey, of course. It was hard not to whilst swapping spit and other bodily fluids with his older brother, but Bailey had been back in the US for the majority of the summer, and Sebastian never really met him, apart from a few glances across large event halls. It wasn’t until he moved into his dorm when he properly met the younger Tipton brother for the first time.

“Hey,” Bailey said, looking up from where he was setting up a music mixing station. “I hope you don’t mind me setting up first, I don’t like waking up with the sun in my eyes.”

Sebastian had shrugged, he had actually wanted the space closer to the window. He liked being able to stare wistfully out of it like a protagonist in a period drama starring Keira Knightley.

“Is that a record player?” Bailey’s voice came from behind him.

“Yeah, why?”

Bailey’s smile was filled with relief. “Oh, awesome. I accidentally left my turn-table at home. Do you mind if I borrow it on occasion?”

“Only if you play good music.” Sebastian flashed him a smile.

Bailey did not disappoint, and the two roommates first bonded over their love of music. That morphed into sharing playlists with each other with the most obscure theme—“math class with your crush” and “standing in the rain with an unlit cigarette like a pretentious ass”. They had been an unlikely pair on the outside, and yet, Sebastian had never felt like he had ever met anyone who understood him as simply as Bailey had. It was like finding someone who spoke the same language after years of wading through foreign sounding words and phrases.

Soon, they had weekly movie nights, spent breakfasts together, would explore new restaurants in town together. They had only been friends about a month, and Sebastian couldn’t imagine his life without Bailey. He finally understood what it meant to have another half. They were attached at the hip from the first day onwards, able to communicate with only eyebrows and wordless expressions.

Bailey had been the first person who heard the story—the full story—about Julian, and Sebastian had been the first person whom Bailey opened up to about his asexuality. Many students at Dalton assumed they were dating, and Sebastian couldn’t blame them. Bailey was the only person he truly cooked for, and they certainly were affectionate with each other like a couple. Sebastian usually showed his affection through sex, but for Bailey, he preferred cheek and forehead kisses, squeezes of the hand, and being tangled up on Bailey’s bed while watching a movie. It felt more intimate than sex, somehow. Perhaps it was because there wasn’t anyone else he was affectionate to on that level. Not Joshua, not Han, definitely not Logan nor Derek—not even Julian during their highest point in Paris. Certainly not Julian now, since he was firmly Not on Speaking Terms with Sebastian since their last row.

“Is he still not talking to you?” Bailey murmured to Sebastian after Julian shot Sebastian a cold look after passing him in the library. It was early March, with midterms quickly approaching. The spring semester was seemingly flying by at the speed of light.

“Nah, but I don’t care anymore,” Sebastian replied, and Bailey shot him a small smile. “What?”

“Nothing, just… I’m glad he’s not so heavy on your mind anymore,” Bailey replied, reaching over to squeeze Sebastian’s hand. Sebastian raised it to his lips, kissing Bailey’s fingers gently.

“Nope, now I can focus on the real love of my life,” Sebastian said, preening a little.

“Your own reflection?”

“And you,” Sebastian teased, and Bailey remained unfazed by it, as usual. It wasn't because he thought Sebastian was teasing him; it's because there was truth to his words, just not in the conventional sense. “There’s no one else I’ve promised marriage to.”

“Already sure you’re not going to be married by forty?”

“Already sure I will not find anyone like you, darling.”

Sebastian had not gotten down on one knee one day with a big shiny rock and proposed marriage to Bailey, to be frank. It had been an evening back in October where Sebastian been particularly wine-soaked and emotional over someone who started with J and ended with “-ulian Larson”, and Bailey had been frustrated at feeling like an outsider—either from his age, overall demeanor, or sexuality was unknown. The two were sitting in their bathtub, passing a bottle of pinot noir between each other, some indie Estonian artist crooning on the record player they had dragged in the bathroom.

“God, Bails, I’m gonna die alone, aren’t I?” he whined pathetically. Bailey took a long swig before passing the bottle over.

“You?? Everyone here’s all partnered up, and I just feel… broken,” Bailey sighed. Sebastian frowned at the words, and grabbed his hands a little roughly. He hated hearing his best friend talk like that about himself, especially when it wasn't true.

“Bailey Brian Tipton, you are absolutely perfect just as you are, and anyone who says otherwise is gonna get their ass kicked,” Sebastian huffed, and Bailey bit back a smile, his cheeks flushed from the wine. He leaned back a little, ignoring the fact that the two of them barely fit in the tub and were practically sitting on top of one another. It wasn't completely unusual for them.

“You’re going to find someone, Bas, I know it,” Bailey said, squeezing Sebastian’s knee. That gave Sebastian a brilliant idea.

“Marry me.”

Bailey choked. “What??”

“Not now, obviously. But like—like those deals people do. If we’re not married by a certain age, we marry each other and live happily ever after,” Sebastian perked up a little, flaky Hollywood brats forgotten, explaining animatedly with his hands.

“So… if we’re not married by, say—forty, we marry each other?” Bailey repeated slowly. Sebastian leaned forward suddenly and grabbed Bailey’s hands.

“Yes! We can live by the Mediterranean coast—my family already has a place there—and grow old and ugly together,” Sebastian said. Bailey giggled. "Be that old couple who dresses the same and complains about tourists."

“And adopt lots of dogs!” He chirped; eyes bright. Sebastian nodded enthusiastically.

“Exactly!!” He responded, squishing Bailey’s cheeks and kissing him rather sloppily. His best friend was still giggling when he pulled away. Sebastian always thought Bailey had the most beautiful smile of anyone he ever saw. “Bailey Tipton, I am in absolute love with you.”

They were exceptionally close, but they never felt a need to take it any further than the close friendship that they had. It was enough for them. It didn’t stop the questions (Reginald had asked twice during parents night), but neither Sebastian nor Bailey minded. How could you explain to someone that they weren’t just best friends—they were halves of the same soul, the same heart. Not twin flames that had found each other, but a single full flame, burning brightly as one, in the darkness that surrounded them. The right words just simply did not exist, especially to someone who had never experienced it before.

“Have you asked anyone to prom yet?” Kurt had been the first to probe, still in his business despite being tied down again to a much shorter curly man almost four months earlier. They were working on an assignment together, having mutually deemed everyone else in their class beneath them, sexual relations aside.

“No,” Sebastian huffed, doodling in the corner of his assignment. “The whole thing sounds juvenile, I’ll probably skip.”

Kurt stared at him incredulously, as if Sebastian called the Met Gala an overhyped and underwhelming costume party for pretentious assholes of New York to pretend they were creative (it was). “You can’t skip. It’s senior prom,” as if those words made any difference whatsoever to Sebastian’s decision. “Plus, there’s plenty of people you can ask.”

Sebastian looked up at Kurt, raising an eyebrow, challenging that statement. “Like?”

“Uhh… what about Han?”

“Hansel has a stream scheduled that night. He’ll be there for the first five minutes, if that.”

Kurt huffed. “Derek?”

Sebastian didn’t look up from his doodle. It was of Logan dressed as a Disney princess, yelling at birds. He was rather proud of it. “Derek is going with that one girl from your old school, remember?”

Kurt grimaced. “God, that reminds me, I need to warn Sugar about him.”

They sat in silence for a bit, before Kurt looked around, leaning in a little on Sebastian’s desk. He knew what the question was before it left Kurt’s mouth—it was one of the few things they really had in common. “I’m guessing Julian’s off the table?”

“I’m pretty sure he’s still sticking needles in tiny effigies of me. Would explain my back pain,” Sebastian chuckled. Kurt raised a perfectly trimmed eyebrow.

“Oh really? That and not the fact that half the school has blown out your back?”

Sebastian just responded by shooting a smirk at Kurt. “Anyways, I’m a little proud that I can put is actively hated by an Academy Award winning actor before finishing high school on my resume.”

“He does not hate you,” Kurt huffed.

“He sure doesn’t like me,” Sebastian retorted, adding sharp teeth to Doodle-Logan.

“He doesn’t know what to do about you” Kurt explained, shrugging. “He knows he fucked things up with you—he’s just not used to having to face consequences. It’s not often he gets rejected, especially by someone who was so crazy about him at the beginning of this school year. “

Sebastian shot Kurt a dirty look. “Can everyone please stop talking to me about Julian Larson already?”

Kurt sulked, obviously wanting more details (and that hot juicy gossip), but Sebastian was past the point of caring what Julian thought of him anymore. “Fine. You should still go to prom, though.”

“And I still have no one to go with.”

Kurt blinked at him. “You don’t have to bring a date, you know that, right? I mean…. If Blaine and I were still broken up, I’d probably take Mercedes. She’s my best friend, and I’d want to spend it with someone I know I’d have fun with.”

Sebastian considered that for a moment after doodling an oversized bow on Logan’s head. Someone he knew he’d have fun with… “Yeah. Yeah, maybe.”

Kurt’s words were still on Sebastian’s mind as he and Bailey cooked dinner together. And by cooking together, it really meant Sebastian did the cooking while he and Bailey nibbled on fancy bread dipped in olive oil and spices. Bailey was talking about Warbler’s practice. The Warblers had not progressed past Regionals that year, much to Kurt, Logan, and Blaine’s chagrin (Logan almost sent a strongly worded email about bias against a cappella to the committee hosting the competition), which freed up their calendars to prepare for other performances.

“Kurt thinks we should go to New York and perform in Central Park during the Nationals competition like Pure Energy does.”

Sebastian stared at him incredulously over his glass of white wine. “… Who the fuck wants to watch a bunch of white boys from Ohio sing a cappella covers of Bruno Mars in Central Park?”

“I dunno…. Squirrels?”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. He was absolutely giving Kurt shit for that tomorrow in class. “Hey, Bails—quick question.”

“Yeah?”

“Are you doing anything for prom?”

Bailey’s eyebrows furrowed just slightly, going through his schedule mentally. “I mean, I have to go, I’m manning the DJ booth.”

“Working prom doesn’t count as attending.”

Bailey chuckled. “Well, it’s not like I have anyone to go with. Are you still skipping it?”

The wheels were already turning in Sebastian’s head, but he didn’t let Bailey see that. “Yeah, watching trashy French movies and getting shitfaced sounds a lot more fun.”

He turned the burner on the stove off before filling a bowl with the soup he finished. Bailey lit up when Sebastian handed him a bowl. “Aww, you made my favorite fancy French tomato soup!”

The plan was simple—but Sebastian had to be extra sneaky, which was hard, given that he and Bailey spent most of their time together. However, he managed to bribe Logan into letting him store some of the… more obvious supplies in his room, so Bailey wouldn’t catch on. It was going to be the cheesiest and most disgusting thing Sebastian had ever done—he couldn’t wait to see Bailey’s face.

“You’re vacuuming up that glitter when you’re done,” Logan huffed from his desk.

“No one will notice from all the clutter in your room,” Sebastian grumbled from the floor, wrinkling his nose slightly at the clothes, likely at least a day old, thrown haphazardly five free from where he crouched over a large poster board.

“Hey, I am doing this out of the kindness of my heart,” Logan retorted.

More like the kindness of your dick, Sebastian thought. His jaw was still a little achy. Logan watched him for a second before Sebastian got irritated at being stared at. “What?”

“I don’t know… it’s just…” Logan’s expression softened, and he regarded him thoughtfully. “This is probably one of the sweetest things I’ve ever seen you do.”

“Bailey’s my best friend.”

“Derek and Julian are my best friends. I can’t see either of them doing this for me,” Logan said, leaning his chin on the back of his chair.

“Maybe if you were a little nicer to them, they might,” Sebastian teased, and Logan threw a highlighter at him. At that moment, the door opened, and Julian stepped inside.

“Hey Logan, here’s your notes back—Sebastian,” Julian stared down at the other Stuart crouched like a goblin over hand-drawn bubbly letters and golden glitter on a poster-board.

“Julian,” Sebastian responded, keeping his voice neutral. He squinted at the poster and then added more glitter. It always needed more glitter. Logan carefully stepped over the board, and took the notebook from Julian’s outstretched hand.

“Thanks, Jules. Sebastian’s just here to work on his… craft project,” Logan said. Julian rolled his eyes.

“I can read, I know it’s a prom-posal,” Julian retorted. “I didn’t think Sebastian was the type.”

“I’m right here,” Sebastian grumbled. Julian’s tone was neutral, but he could never be sure. Julian won an Academy Award just a few months prior for a reason.

“Who are you asking to prom?” Julian asked lightly.

“Bailey,” Logan and Sebastian answered at the same time.

“That’s why he’s doing it here,” Logan filled in.

“Don’t tell him, it’s a surprise,” Sebastian added. Julian rolled his eyes, then squatted down next to Sebastian. It was the closest they had been to each other since right before Julian left for his shoot. The actor studied the board thoughtfully.

“This is really nice, Sebastian,” he said finally, his tone genuine. Sebastian blinked at him for a moment, not really sure how to react.

“Thanks…?” Sebastian finally responded. Julian gave him a small smile before straightening up. Guess Julian didn’t hate him anymore.

“Is Haven still coming to prom?” Logan asked as Julian flopped on his bed, wrinkling his nose as the actor rifled through his snack drawer.

“Yeah, Clark just confirmed it with me,” Julian said around potato chips. Sebastian was adding the last touches to his sign. It was perfect. He was getting it hung in the motherfucking Louvre. He checked his watch.

“Shit,” he said, throwing the markers and sharpies in the bag. Logan and Julian looked at him.

“What?”

“Bailey’s gonna be back in ten minutes, and I still need to set this up,” Sebastian explained, brushing glitter off his pants.

“How can we help?” Julian suddenly piped up, surprising both Sebastian and Logan. He glanced at both of them. “What? I like Bailey—he’s chill. Usually.”

“Yeah, uh—there’s a bag in the fridge with my name on it, can you grab it?” Sebastian said. “And Logan—I can use your extra inches, pun not intended.”

Logan wrinkled his nose, and Julian grinned as he slid off the bed, bounding downstairs. Logan and Sebastian looked at him once he was gone. They both had the exact same thought.

“Julian’s in a good mood.”

Logan and Sebastian crept into Sebastian’s room, and once confirming the coast was clear, started hanging the poster board above Bailey’s bed. Julian came in moments later with two large bags with signs taped to it saying “DO NOT TOUCH UNDER THREAT OF GUILLOTINE –SS”. He held them up, making face.

“Sebastian, these are full of cheese,” he complained. Sebastian rolled his eyes, grabbing the bags from Julian. He also ignored Logan’s muttering of this is the worst pun I’ve ever had to read with my two eyeballs.

“I’m starting to miss when you were mad at me, you complained less,” Sebastian grumbled, scattering the many, many blocks of various types of cheeses around their room.

“No, he didn’t,” Logan replied. Julian shot him a glare, and Logan threw up his hands, leaving the room.

“Warn us if you see Bailey coming!” Sebastian called after him.

Julian, stayed, helping him set out the cheese. He paused, looking over at Sebastian. “You are right, I was mad…”

Sebastian glanced up at him. He didn’t need Julian to tell him that, he already knew based on Julian’s behavior alone. He arranged the cheese sticks on the bed to spell out Bailey’s name. They were going to eat nothing but charcuterie boards until graduation.

“Why didn’t you think I cared?” Julian asked suddenly. Sebastian sighed.

“What was I supposed to think?” Sebastian answered. “You were… we were close back in Paris, but the moment I get here, it’s like there’s this wall around you that I can’t get through.”

Julian looked away. “I know I can be standoff-ish. I don’t mean to be, it’s just… habit.”

“You didn’t tell me that you were leaving, and you didn’t text me once when you were gone,” Sebastian countered. “That’s not even habit, that’s just….”

He bit his lip. He hated dealing with emotions like this, hated even thinking about them, let alone vocalizing them. But Julian needed to know. “It hurt. A lot. When you kept pushing me away.”

“I’m sorry, Sebastian,” Julian’s response was barely above a whisper. Sebastian nodded. He wasn’t quite ready to forgive Julian yet, but he wanted to move in a positive direction at the very least.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” Sebastian said. Julian snorted, making Sebastian glance over at him in surprise and confusion.

“No, I deserved it, and…” Julian looked up and met Sebastian’s gaze. “It wasn’t nearly as bad as the lecture Bailey gave me after. I don’t think I’d ever seen him that pissed, though I’m sure he was after the whole Josh thing. I wasn’t there for that, though.”

Sebastian blinked in shock. “Bailey. This Bailey.”

“Bailey Tipton in the flesh. Called me a self-centered, cold-hearted asshole,” Julian said. “I didn’t even think Bailey knew swear words.”

Sebastian chuckled, looking up at his finished masterpiece, admiring it. “He knows a lot more than you think.”

“Bailey’s a good friend,” Julian mused, and Sebastian nodded. He was the best friend.

They sat on Sebastian’s bed, one that they had shared before, but that was all in the past now. Sebastian knew that now as he sat next to someone he had once claimed to love more than anyone else. It just simply wasn’t there anymore.

“What made you not mad at me?” Sebastian finally asked.

“You’re going to think it’s silly,” Julian said, running a hand through his hair. Now Sebastian was intrigued.

“What?”

“I was ranting to Clark about this whole thing, and he just let me vent and vent and vent, and suddenly, saying it all out loud, I realized I sounded like an absolute ass,” Julian said, his voice calm, but Sebastian noticed the pink flush starting to creep onto his cheeks. “I felt embarrassed. He told me…”

Julian took a deep breath, and Sebastian suddenly realized how hard this was for Julian. They hadn’t ever opened up to each other like this. Not even in Paris.

“He told me to talk to you. To make sure you didn’t hate me.”

“I don’t.”

“I know, it’s just easier to leave if the other person hates you. I just didn’t realize how much damage I was really causing just because I wanted things to be easier.”

Sebastian reached over and squeezed Julian’s hand. “Clark sounds like a good friend. Should realize that you have a lot more people in your corner than you think, Julian.”

Julian chewed on his lower lip. “Yeah, I’m beginning to learn that now…" He glanced over at Sebastian, just a half a second. Sebastian wasn't even sure if he saw it. "Does this…. Does this mean you want to be friends again?”

He looked so goddamn hopeful. Sebastian bit back an impish grin. “Oh no, I fully intend on putting you through the ringer just a little longer, Larson. I need my revenge somehow.”

Julian’s mouth fell open in shock, and then he half-shoved Sebastian, who cackled. “So rude.”

Sebastian’s grin when from impish to devilish. “Starting with—were you embarrassed earlier by what you said or because Clark Sawyer knew that Julian Larson wasn’t 100% perfect with a perky ass that—”

“Shut the fuck up!!” Julian, rather red, swatted at Sebastian, who easily dodged it. Suddenly, three knocks came at the door. Bailey was approaching. Julian got up and snuck out the door. He paused at the door frame. “Sebastian?”

Sebastian looked up as he moved from his bed to stand next to Bailey’s.

“Tell Bailey he was right. He’ll know what I mean,” Julian said cryptically, winking at Sebastian with a grin before disappearing. Moments later, the sound of click of Bailey’s keycard being accepted. Bailey walked in and froze in absolute shock. Sebastian gestured widely with his arms with all the pomp and enthusiasm as a child who just made a macaroni necklace. The sign was in all yellow and golden glitter, with cheese spread artfully throughout their room in sheer proportions that would make the Twins proud.

“Ta~da!!!!” He crowed in a sing-song tone, rather proud of himself. Bailey’s eyes were wide and slowly, a bright smile grew across his lips.

“’Bailey: I know this is cheesy, but would you go to prom-age with me?’” Bailey read, then started giggling. “Sebastian that is the absolutely worst pun I’ve heard.”

Sebastian grinned brightly. “I’m taking that as a yes…?”

Bailey suddenly threw his arms around Sebastian, who was enveloped with Bailey’s familiar warm and comforting scent. Sebastian hugged him back tightly, kissing the side of his head. “Of course, it’s a yes, Bas. I wouldn’t rather go with anyone else.”

Sebastian kissed his cheek then gripped Bailey tightly, spinning him around, while he squealed excitedly, giggling hysterically. He was a little breathless when they pulled away. Sebastian beamed down at him, so absolutely full of love for the person standing in front of him. Bailey returned the smile and poked his nose. “I still need to man the DJ booth for prom.”

Sebastian wrapped an arm around Bailey's shoulders. “Of course, I’ve already started a playlist we can try.”

“No Swedish nu-core death-punk.”

“Aw, you’re no fun.”

Soon after, the Stuarts, having heard the commotion, poked their heads in to see what was going on. Bailey started distributing the cheese because they certainly could not finish them all by themselves (Logan took the cheese sticks because he's a child), but Sebastian didn’t mind. Bailey’s face glowed like the summer sun with happiness, and, at the end of the day, when all was said and done, that was all that was important to Sebastian.

Chapter Text

Prom. Short for Promenade (probably). A land marker event for any high school, and the Dalton-Dobry prom was no exception. A joint venture that took months to plan for (and even more money) and ended up looking more like a first-class charity gala than a high school prom. The theme this year, after days of vigorous debate, was Under the Stars and was to be held in the newly christened Gregory Harvey Fine Arts Hall at Dalton Academy—the first major event to be held there after a small hiccup resulted in the ribbon cutting to be delayed until after Parents’ Night. At least this hiccup didn’t result in anyone dying and all the furniture being destroyed by being piled into a barricade. Just some of the furniture.

Tinsel stars and strategically placed lights glittered from above reminiscent of the night’s sky. Sebastian was assisting Bailey set up the speaker system for the evening. Only the prefects and those who had been roped (or bribed) into setting up the hall were inside. It was still almost an hour until the actual event would begin.

Bailey was messing with the soundboard, then pulled off his headphones, looking over at Sebastian. “So I was thinking…”

“Uh-oh.”

“Ha ha. I was thinking—for after graduation, maybe we can go on a road trip? Like what they do in movies,” Bailey said.

“A road trip?”

“Yeah, either across the US or Europe. I mean, we’re going to different schools in the fall, it would be nice to do something before we split up,” Bailey said, looking a little sad at the end of his statement. Sebastian finished with the speaker and wrapped an arm around Bailey’s shoulder.

“Bails, you say that like we’re not going to be facetiming almost every single day. Who else am I going to send music from obscure Estonian bands to?” Sebastian said, though he was also more than a little sad about them going to different schools. He knew they’d still be best friends. For better or worse, Bailey was stuck with him. Bailey snorted, rolling his eyes, as if he didn’t feel the exact same way. Sebastian continued: “A road trip sounds like fun.”

“Are you the sound team?” a voice came suddenly. Clark Sawyer stood in front of them with an easy smile. If Sebastian didn’t know any better, he wouldn’t have assumed Clark was a rockstar at all. He had this easy-going, casual air about him, like he was just a normal university student rather than selling out the largest stadiums across the globe.

“Sort of. Clark, right?” Sebastian said as Bailey rifled through the boxes for the mics. Clark tilted his head slightly, his smile widening as pieces fit together in his brain.

“You’re Sebastian Smythe, aren’t you? Julian told me about you,” Clark said, his voice containing no malice. He looked like he ate sunshine for breakfast and farted rainbows. And yet, Sebastian wanted.

Sebastian grinned. “Hopefully good things.”

Clark’s smile didn’t change, not even the smallest of wavers. “Sure.”

Bailey straightened up, handing Clark the set of mics for all the members of Haven and The Next Exit. “We’re not doing sound check for another twenty minutes, so feel free to hang out until then. I think Danny’s ordering pizza for everyone.”

Clark smiled and thanked them, walking to one of the side rooms where the bands were chilling until it was time. Sebastian and Bailey watched him go, and once Clark was out of earshot: “I’d tap that.”

“You and half of everyone in this country. Haven’t you seen the tabloids, though? He might actually break you, Bas.”

Sebastian grinned down at Bailey. “I love a challenge.”

--

Julian Larson did not originally plan to attend his senior prom. He found the whole idea ridiculous. He had just won an honest-to-god Academy Award only a few months back, and he was attending a senior prom in Ohio. And yet, here he was. In one of the side rooms with Haven, dressed in the same tux he wore on the red carpet at said Academy Awards (outfit repeating doesn’t count when Getty photos wasn’t present). What could he say—he was a slut for nostalgic sentiment for the normalcy that he was never able to attain in his four years at this school.

It certainly hadn’t been a completely uneventful four years. Maybe freshman year could count as uneventful, simply by comparison. The most exciting thing that happened that year was when Logan’s voice was cracking every other word and sent Julian and Derek into fits of giggles each time it happened. And his developing crush on said awkward blonde. Then there was sophomore year, with Blaine and higher demanding roles. He wanted to keep his school and work lives completely separate and as a result—felt like he was being torn in two. There were two separate people inside of him, and he wasn’t entirely sure anymore which one was the real him.

Then there was junior year, and everything got objectively worse. There was Kurt, Logan, and Adam. He couldn’t hold the façade, and for a moment he let it drop—when he met Sebastian. It wasn’t supposed to be a love story, with a happily ever after and them walking into the sunset. Instead, he got a Casablanca ending. A poetic, open-ended, seemingly unhappy ending for those involved. It was fitting for his flair for the dramatic. (And if anyone on his flight back to LAX heard him listening to the Casablanca soundtrack on the flight back from Paris—no they didn’t, and he would vehemently deny anything otherwise.)

It was a reprieve, a needed break from the demanding pull into two different expectations for who Julian Larson really was. He could really be himself, for once. But then shit hit the fan. Or really—shit exploded and burned down an entire multi-million dollar art hall. He could’ve left after that, just been Hollywood Julian Larson. It might’ve been easier, too. But he was always a masochist for challenges, and at the end of the day, he wanted to. He had good memories there. He had friends there (as Logan’s relentless barrages of texts and voicemails reminded him—did Logan ever sleep????). And after everything, escaping to California felt like quitting. And Julian Talal Alexander Larson was not a fucking quitter, goddammit. So, against his mother’s wishes and probably his best judgement, he returned to Dalton Academy in the fall, hoping to God, Meryl Streep, or any other higher power he could think of that he’d get a boring year. For once.

But he was never that lucky. Sebastian came back into his life, freshly enrolled at Dalton Academy as a way to “get him under control”, or so he said with a derisive snort when Julian cornered him. Seeing his face again months later felt like a cold glass of water in the best and worst ways. He felt a surge of energy course through him and yet it still made his teeth hurt from the shock of the cold. In Paris, there had been no feelings of expectations of how he should behave or act. Sebastian was a blip—a beautiful firework lighting up Julian’s dark sky with fiery energy. Now he was at Dalton, and everything felt different--out of place somehow. They were stuck in cold reality now. He was Dalton Julian Larson, and he didn’t know how to act around Sebastian anymore. So he did the one thing he knew how to—he closed Sebastian off.

It was not one of his proudest moments—far from it. He couldn’t imagine how Sebastian felt, not only starting a new school in your final year and having to move to a completely different country to do so, and the only person you really know is actively pretending that there isn’t, and never has been, anything between you. Derek and Logan were used to his mood swings, used to being kept somewhat at arm's length. They often were the same to him. Sebastian, however, was not used to it, he hadn't spent the last three years with them, like a brand new character dropped in after several seasons of the same cast or twenty chapters in a book. Sebastian didn't understand how Dalton Julian operated. Julian did have inklings, however, of Sebastian’s perspective. Sebastian was not the suave, apathetic mystery he thought himself to be. Emotions showed easily in his face—especially ones of hurt, and it twisted a knife sharper than Adam’s in Julian’s gut every time he saw it. He knew he was quickly becoming the villain in Sebastian's story, but he didn't know how to stop it. Eventually, it became too much. He had to get away, even just to breathe, and when an opportunity came up—Julian jumped at the chance.

He spent four months in the icy Scottish highlands, cold wind whipping his face, blowing through his doubts and insecurities with unforgiving icy tendrils. It was an indie historical movie—a divergence from the modern-era dramas he typically starred it. He needed something different—something fresh. He felt stuck in the roles he set for himself, and he wasn’t quite sure if he meant his work or personal life. Thankfully, he wasn’t completely alone for the experience. Clark Sawyer had managed to snag a side role in the same film (Julian had first heard about the film through Clark, though it was slightly annoying how Clark was more entrenched in the artsy indie scene than he was) and they spent much of the months filming huddled together under thick blankets. Weeks of frigid temperatures and zero cell reception (Julian could only take Angry Bird for so long before he started being tempted to knock down some real-life castles himself—and he wasn't exactly in the mood to being arrested for destruction of property) led to hours of conversation with Clark. It was easy talking to Clark, Julian found. He knew Clark didn't care about climbing any ladder or Hollywood politics that Julian found himself dancing through like the floor was lava. Julian almost envied him. Clark would be perfectly happy being a much smaller artist than he was now, only playing in small seedy bars or holes-in-the-wall for breadcrumbs. Julian liked to pretend he didn't need fame, but it was a lie. He enjoyed the attention fame brought him at times, enjoyed working in large budget movies, enjoyed being able to work with some of the most creative minds and biggest names in Hollywood. But Clark was different, he always had been, and it was through that difference that Julian felt like he could trust him.

Clark; however, had a rather irritating ability to see straight through Julian, past the personas he put up for himself and those around him, and being stuck together for long periods of time resulted in the two of them talking longer and deeper than Julian ever had with anyone, even with the therapist everyone wanted him to see. He knew it shouldn't be that way, but Clark had an innate ability to tease things out of Julian that Julian couldn't tease out of himself, all with that sweet boy-next-door-smile and warm eyes.

Julian opened up about Logan, about Adam, about the expectations weighing on his shoulders. It all tumbled out as if it had been straining desperately against the walls Julian had built up, like a dam on its last leg. Clark quietly listened, commenting occasionally when he felt he needed to, rubbing Julian's back when he had started crying recounting what had actually happened the year before. How his dynamic with Logan had fundamentally changed since then (though Logan, to his credit, seemed hellbent on trying to be a better friend to Julian, which was both endearing and obnoxious, especially when Logan destroyed his mother's prize-winning hydrangeas trying to pole vault into the Larson residence), and how he wished everything had stayed the same--as unsustainable as the same was.

“I just… it just feels different somehow,” Julian said, his chin in his cold hands. He’d forgotten what it was like to have warm hands and feet. He hated the cold.

“Why does it have to be?” Clark replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “And if it is different, is that really such a bad thing? There is a such thing as Good Different.”

Julian frowned, the gears in his brain working slower in the lower temperatures, like an old rusted car, and he was starting to wish he had chosen to shoot somewhere warmer, like the Maldives or Florida. But no. This job came with murmurings of potential Academy Awards, and now his happy ass was in cold, wet Scotland. Fantastic. "Because things were good before."

Clark raised an eyebrow and nudged Julian gently. "Were they good because they genuinely were or because you wanted them to be."

Julian huffed—he couldn't deal with Clarkistotle, the great unknown Philosopher. Things really were good before… right? He started to wonder if it was really him who enjoyed the time he had with Logan and Derek, or even Sebastian by extension, but was it really him who enjoyed it, or Dalton Julian. Was there a difference, and if there was, had he known the entire time?

"It's too cold to think," Julian whined, squishing his entire body against Clark's under the blankets. He could hear Clark chuckle softly, wrapping his arms around Julian, who closed his eyes. He wished he could stay like this forever, everything seemed easier right there, enveloped by Clark. He could feel Clark's chin rest against the top of his head, and he tried not to he think too much about it. Clark was, rather unfortunately, straight as an arrow, and Julian wasn’t going to let himself fall for another tall, unavailable blonde just to get his heart broken again.

"You'll figure it out, Julian, I know you will," Clark murmured. "And besides…" He pulled away to look at Julian with a wry smile. "It's your senior year. You'll only be able to experience this once, you should enjoy it. Go out with a bang."

Julian huffed, but he knew Clark was right. He was going to have to go back to Dalton at some point. There were too many open plotlines and unanswered questions that it felt like a CW show, and he knew he would never forgive himself if he didn't. He had returned that fall for a reason, and it wasn't for Logan Wright for once or seeing how much dick he could suck in a year (which he was failing miserably at, he had only sucked two whole people's dicks—and one of them was now the center of his Problems). He needed to close out this storyline, lay Dalton Julian to rest at last. So he made plans to return to Dalton after filming, texting Derek and Logan once right before, Kurt not long after (he trusted the Dalton gossip vine to spread the news to everyone else). He opened up the chat with Sebastian and stared at it for the longest time, but he didn't know what to say. Sup bitch i'm omw ttyl seemed too informal for Sebastian, especially after everything. He closed out the chat, figuring he'll talk to Sebastian once he got back. Sebastian would likely prefer to talk in person than over text anyways. He had a lot of homework to do, both for Dalton (as Derek's texts kept him aware of) and for his inevitable sharing of emotions.

Being something as disgusting and vile as emotionally vulnerable in front of others didn't come naturally to Julian, but Clark had been encouraging, texting him his entire journey back to Westerville, and Julian couldn't help but be eternally grateful for Clark. He wasn't sure what he'd do without him, and he wasn't entirely sure either what he had done to deserve as good as a friend as Clark Sawyer. Clark's words wrapped around him like the thick blankets that they had huddled under together, the lengths of their bodies pressed against one another, sharing body heat. He took some steeling breaths before heading to Logan's room. He had spent the entire flight from LA to Columbus memorizing a script of what he was going to say to them, not having the courage to completely ad-lib either conversation. But he was going to do this. He could do this, he could be better, he could--

His inner monologue screeched to a halt when Sebastian and Logan nearly barreled him over on their way out, rumpled and quite obviously had fucked the night before. His script did not plan for this. It was a punch to the gut. He had stood by while Logan chased after Blaine, Joshua, and Kurt. He’d been quiet when Logan outwardly flirted with other guys around him, not letting a single reaction hit his face, even when they reappeared the morning after. This felt different. And not Clark’s “different things help your grow” or whatever pseudo-inspirational bullshit he read on a mug that week. He didn't let his shock show on his face, even when he could tell Sebastian was carefully studying his reaction, and Logan looked like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Which, knowing both of them, probably wasn't far from the truth.

He didn’t know what to think of it, didn’t even know how to begin to process it. He sat on his bed for hours after, staring into the empty space of his dorm room, replaying the moment over and over again. Logan and Sebastian…? Sebastian and Logan…? They had been at each other’s throats all year. Julian never fully understand why, but the moment Sebastian had shown up, he seemed to make it his life mission to get under Logan's skin. And considering how testy Logan already was, it wasn't very difficult to accomplish. Sebastian seemed to think of it as a game, annoying Logan and getting him worked up. Julian had found it amusing at times. He mostly found it exhausting, however. It felt like they were fighting over him, and as much of an attention whore as he was, he suddenly understood Kurt's exasperation the year prior when it had been Blaine and Logan at each other's throats. But the moment he left, they turned around and decided to do a complete 180? Were they dating now? What had happened while he was getting frostbite on his dick with Clark? It ate at the side of his brain at all waking hours, like some sort of gross brain eating amoeba.

“Are Logan and Sebastian dating?” Julian blurted out one morning a few days later while studying in Derek’s room and was admittedly slightly relieved when Derek burst into laughter. He had been avoiding both Logan and Sebastian, but Logan's hectic schedule (and the cinder block of obliviousness he called his skull) had kept him from noticing. Sebastian, oddly enough, let him keep his space, other than a brush, "Welcome back, Julian."

“No, where the fuck did you get that idea??” Derek said over his flashcards for finals. Julian cleared his throat, not meeting Derek's eyes.

“I saw them come out of Logan’s room… together,” Julian muttered, face hot.

“Sebastian’s been…” An awkward cough. “Sebastian’s been keeping busy these past few months, if you know what I mean,” Derek said, his voice taking on a slightly different tone. Almost as if he was rather uncomfortable with the subject, like he had been prior whenever the topic of Casey came up. Julian got the hint. “It’s likely just a casual one-off thing.”

While that eased some of Julian's anxieties, he soon came to realize that there was a seismic shift that had happened since he was gone. Sebastian was cooler. Polite, but oddly formal whenever he crossed paths with Julian. The Sebastian he had left frequently caught him in the hallways to chat, passed him notes in class, and texted him multiple times a day. The Sebastian he returned to barely gave him a second glance. Julian couldn’t help it—he was hurt. It only got worse after winter break—Sebastian started avoiding him. Like a plague. He wasn’t even that subtle about it.

“What the hell is his problem?” Julian muttered, unable to keep a twinge of hurt from his voice as he watched Sebastian pack up and leave from a study room the moment Julian walked in. Kurt only shrugged, but Reed didn’t say anything, only watching Sebastian carefully.

It all came to a head a few days later, when Julian had finally plucked up the courage to confront Sebastian for avoiding him for so long. They had fought—their first fight ever, and Sebastian was more flustered and angry than Julian had ever seen him. And Julian, not sure why Sebastian was so angry at him, had fired back. Then Sebastian spat this back at him, voice full of venom and eyes full of an emotion that Julian was all too familiar with:

I don’t need you to be my boyfriend or whatever, but at the very least, treat me like I’m an actual fucking human and not a fucking side character in your bullshit coming-of-age movie!

Those words rattled around in Julian’s brain as he fitfully tried to sleep that night. What did Sebastian even know?? He was angry—furious even. Of course he cared!! It was Sebastian who had changed while he was gone—and right when he was just about to be mature and talk to him! It wasn't fair! Anger built up inside of him as he tossed and turned the entire night. He hoped it would be better the next day, that Sebastian would calm down a little.

It did not.

Instead, he got a soft knock at the door.

"Julian," Bailey's voice came, his face harder than his tone of voice. Julian sighed and let him in. He was waiting to hear back from his agent--there were stirrings that he might be nominated for an Academy Award—and trying to study math in the meantime, as useless as it seemed while waiting to hear back if you're getting nominated for a fucking Academy Award at seventeen. He was trying though. They did have a quiz coming up, and he was sitting firmly at a C+.

"So, you heard about last night."

"I did."

Julian ran a hand through his hair. "I don't understand what his problem is! What the hell did I ever do to him to make him resent me so much--"

"Julian." Bailey's voice took on an edge that Julian hadn't heard from him before, and he leaned in close to Julian’s face. "It is only because I've known you for as long as I have that I know that you are not this fucking stupid."

Julian's mouth dropped open. He never heard Bailey swear before ever. Bailey's eyes were narrowed, as he poked Julian in the chest like a sharp jab. Julian realized in that exact moment how much Bailey resembled his older brother.

"You of all people should understand what Sebastian is feeling, and I refuse to believe you're so much of a self-centered, cold-hearted asshole to know otherwise," Bailey snapped. Julian scowled.

"That's not fair, this is nothing like what it was with Logan--"

"Is it? Because from where I'm standing, it sure looks like it, except reversed," Bailey retorted. "You wrap yourself so much in being the martyr in Logan's story—but in reality, you're no better than him!"

"Get out," Julian hissed. "Get out of my room Tipton!"

Bailey stood up, right as Julian's phone chimed. His eyes softened slightly. "I'm right. You know I am. And I hope for your sake that it doesn't take you as long as it took Logan to figure it out."

Julian pointedly refused to answer.

"You know where I am if you ever want to talk, Julian." He glanced down at Julian's phone before tossing it to him as he walked out. "Congrats on your Oscar nomination by the way. You earned it."

Julian didn't let himself dwell on Bailey's words too long, he couldn't. He was one of the youngest nominees for an Academy Award. There were interviews to be done, outfits to choose, roles to accept for after he graduated. It was a whirlwind, but the chaos was Julian's home. He talked about the movie with pride in the interviews he squeezed in between exams. He knew he wasn't going to win, there were so many strong candidates that year, and to be honest, he was rather conflicted by the nomination, but he'd never let it show, never give a single hint otherwise.

Julian usually didn't mind watching himself on the large screen, he'd grown up with it. But that particular movie… He could never bring himself to watch again after the premiere. His scenes had been filmed the summer after Hell Night, and he still looked absolutely wrecked. It worked, for the emotional heart wrenching tone of the movie, but all Julian saw was a broken and lost boy who had just had everything ripped out from underneath him. It hurt, seeing the pain in his eyes in the most emotional scenes and knowing that pain was very real and the heavy burden it came from.

He wasn't sure how he felt about his most broken and vulnerable state being rewarded and praised, but he also knew the work he had to do just to do a movie like that, as small as his part was, so soon after his coma. How much he'd pushed himself in physical therapy just to get cleared to film—the long hours spent in the gym and in pools to build up the muscle that had withered away in a sterile hospital bed.

Anyone else would look at that and say that Julian gave too much, that he put too heavy of expectations on himself, but Julian loved a challenge. He loved having something to work towards, and as hard and painful as it was, having a goal—a purpose—again, it made him feel normal. And it got him to where he was now—seventeen and already nominated for an Academy Award. Who the fuck could say that.

--

"Please tell me you're not wearing that," Logan's nose wrinkled in disgust, holding up Julian's tie. Julian snorted from the ottoman he was standing on to get fitted, and Reed snatched the tie away from Logan's grasp with a scowl.

"It's fashion, Logan, it's art," Reed huffed, and Julian grinned down at the blonde.

"Yeah, Logan, you fucking uncultured swine. I'm sorry I don't want to dress like a boring straight white boy like you do," he teased. Logan pouted, going back to his station by the first aid kit to hand Reed bandages for whenever he ultimately stabbed himself with a pin again.

"Out of the closet for less than a year, and you're somehow more of a bully," Logan muttered grumpily.

"Can you two spare me the migraine and quit flirting already," Derek called from the desk, glaring at both of them. Julian rolled his eyes (and almost missed Reed's quiet mutter of or just fuck already), but he and Logan didn't meet each other's gaze.

They still hadn't talked about The Adam Thing, as much as Derek prodded and hinted for them to do. It was just this thing that hung between them, and they seemingly had an unspoken agreement to just not discuss it and hope it croaked and died at some point. Julian liked their unspoken agreement. Julian caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and felt a sharp thrill of excitement go through him when he saw his reflection. For the first time in what felt like a long time, he looked great. This was his comeback. (Coma Comeback Kid—god, that would make a great autobiography title; he had to remember to text Carmen that.)

"It's a beautiful design, Reed, I love it," Julian smiled down at the small artist, and Reed beamed up at him.

"I'm glad you chose me."

"There isn't anyone else I'd trust to dress me for my first Oscar as a nominee."

Logan furrowed his brow, once again interjecting with his opinion that no one asked for. "Just a nominee? You don't think you would win?"

Julian glanced over at Logan. The honest and open belief that Logan held in him as an actor and a person still sometimes knocked the wind out of Julian. It also reminded Julian of what a naïve dumbass Logan could be. "It's my first nomination, and I'm young. Neither of my parents won their first nominations. My dad still hasn't, after three nominations."

"I think you will, so you should probably write a speech," Logan replied without hesitation, helping Reed bandage his knee from where he accidentally kneeled on a pin. Julian rolled his eyes. A year ago, words like that from Logan would've destroyed him, but they didn't hit as strong. Still, it was nice to have someone who was so unwaveringly in his corner. Maybe this was what Clark meant by good different—with all his cards out on the table, he was on equal footing with Logan now.

Logan, of course, was right for once in his life. And also for once (and hopefully the last), Julian wished he listened to that naïve dumbass and actually prepared a speech. What he did was stammer out several thank-you’s to various people on a stage that suddenly felt far too large and important for him.

Several hours (and shots) later, he found himself ugly sobbing into his In-N-Out french fries after the event in his very nice suit and an Academy Award casually sitting next to him, witnessing him embarrass himself. To be fair, it was the middle of the night, and he did have more than one or five drinks at the after party he had just stumbled from.

"J, you should drink some water," Clark's voice was gentle and calm in his ear. He looked annoyingly dashing and handsome in his crisp navy suit. So perfect. Julian wanted to poke him. And do other things. If only Clark wasn’t so perfect and wonderful and straight. He sniffled and tried to regain what little dignity he had left.

"No water. Only fries," Julian huffed before shoving a handful in his mouth to mark his point with the overabundance of grace of a shitfaced Academy Award winner. He leaned against Clark, sniffling wetly. Clark smelled so nice. He wanted to bury his face in him. He couldn't think of anyone else who made him feel so safe--that the world wasn't as complicated and scary as it felt sometimes. Haven was an apt name for the band, he thought, because Clark was his safe haven.

"I can't believe I won an Academy Award," Julian sniffled, ignoring the fact that he was probably getting snot and tears on Clark's lovely Armani suit. The rumble of a laugh in Clark's chest sounded like the gentle crashing of waves on a sunny beach, sure and steady.

"I always knew you would," Clark replied, and Julian almost started crying again at the surety of his words. "I knew you would always do great and wonderful things, Julian. That's just who you are."

Julian lifted his head to look at Clark, feeling the exhaustion start to gnaw and pull on his bones. "And you?"

Clark reached up and brushed hair out of Julian's face. His fingertips were calloused, but his touch was featherlight and gentle in a way that was so Clark. "Me? I would be perfectly content watching you from the side, cheering you on."

“Why are you so nice and wonderful?” Julian huffed, stealing some of Clark’s fries. “‘s not fair to the rest of us.”

“I’m not.”

“You are. I wish I was more like you, sometimes.” Julian leaned back in his chair, and Clark watched him curiously.

“Really?”

“Mm. Everything—especially people—just seem to come so easy to you. You always know the right thing to say to make anyone feel better—and fall in love with you,” Julian snorted. Clark leaned against his palm, watching Julian with barely veiled amusement.

“Not everyone.”

Julian stared at him incredulously. “You show me that person, whomever she is, and I’ll give you a million dollars.”

Clark just grinned—a stupid perfect white curve, like a bright crescent moon on a clear night. “I hope you have your checkbook ready.”

Julian let Clark pull him home afterwards, too tired to put up much of a fight. But there was something blooming in his chest. It was a familiar feeling, and Julian suspected it had been there the entire time, but with the passing of winter and a newfound warmth of the sun, it slowly started to sprout and blossom in the spring of a new beginning.

(And if he had been paying more attention, he might've noticed Clark gazing at him with a similar expression.)

He didn't have as much time to dwell on it in the moment before he was whisked back to Ohio to finish out his senior year. At Dalton, he had all the time in the world to dwell. The days seemed to stretch, and Julian sometimes felt like he had been in high school for fifteen years. Returning to Dalton also meant a return to all of the issues he left unresolved while he was busy winning an Academy Award. Unfortunately, to his severe and immense disappointment, winning a prestigious award like the Academies, did not wipe his slate clean in terms of his personal life. He wished it did, it would save him a lot of headache as dealing with his emotions (and other people's emotions by extension) was one of his least favorite things.

Sebastian Smythe was at the head and helm of it all. To be honest, he didn't know what to do with Sebastian. Part of him was still angry at Sebastian's sudden turn against him, a larger part of him knew it was mostly his own damn fault. He had been the one to keep Sebastian at arm's length when all the transfer student wanted was a friend. Sebastian probably hated him.

"I don't know what to do," Julian finally admitted, as gross as the words tasted in his mouth.

"With the homework assignment or life in general?" Derek replied casually. Julian shot a glare at him.

"No D, the best way to shove my own Oscar up my ass to get off—yes, with life," Julian retorted, and Derek rolled his eyes in exasperation. Julian threw himself backward against the pile of pillows stacked in the corner of the anteroom. Logan was at a prefect's meeting, which, despite how far they had come, was the main reason Julian felt comfortable opening up. "I'm not used to all of this—” he waved his hand in the air vaguely "being out in the open."

"You really want my advice?" Derek said, putting down his pen, and shooting Julian a look before he could retort something snarky back. "You haven't even dealt with what happened with Logan yet. How can you even start with Sebastian?"

"How did you—”

"You avoid every room he's in. Everyone in the school has noticed."

Julian looked out the window at the sunlight streaming in. Derek was right. His voice was quiet, "What if I don't have answers for him?"

"Logan? I don't think he wants answers. He probably doesn't have any for you, either."

Julian sighed, nodded, and pulled out his phone, sending a quick text to Logan: coffee?

There was an answer back seconds later: just got out of prefect meeting. fucking PLEASE.

--

“Does the great Academy Award winner Julian Larson still enjoy enough sugar in his coffee to put a small Victorian child in their grave?” Logan asked, when Julian met him outside the cafeteria, handing him a cup of coffee.

“I still enjoy joy in my life, yes,” Julian grumbled, sipping his coffee. Logan still remembered how he liked it. Of course, he did, it wasn’t like a significant amount of time had passed. So why did it feel like it had?

“So, what did you want to talk to me about?” Logan asked, sipping his coffee, and glancing over at Julian. He raised an eyebrow at Julian’s expression. “You don’t usually ask me for coffee out of the blue. Therefore, it has to be something. Spill.”

“It’s ah… I…” Julian glanced around, trying (and likely failing) to not look nervous. He didn’t want to do this in public. “Can we walk?”

Logan got it immediately. “Are we finally going to… you know… discuss the elephant?”

Julian didn’t meet his gaze, ignoring the prickling feeling on his skin from the anxiety, like the ghost of the flames of last year were lapping at him again. “Yeah. We need to, it’s far overdue.”

They walked together in silence for a few minutes, ambling through the grounds. It was still cold out, and Julian missed the Californian heat, but he knew he’d miss the distinct seasons that he got in Westerville. Logan’s arm bumped against his as he walked, and if Julian didn’t know him better, he would’ve assumed it was unintentional. Logan would be attending Columbia in the fall, Derek got into multiple Ivy leagues, much to his enormous relief, and was planning on attending Yale. Julian was not going to attend university, choosing to run headfirst into his burgeoning career. They would be spread out in all different directions after graduation, and Julian secretly hoped that they wouldn’t lose touch. As annoying as they could be, he couldn’t imagine his life anymore without Derek and Logan in it. Which was why he was so fucking scared of this conversation.

“So, uh…” Logan’s voice was filled with anxiety, and he ran a hand through his hair. He was wearing less gel in his hair recently, so it mussed easily. It was a good look on him. Wild. Carefree. The opposite of the tense expression on his face. Julian stopped, looking at his feet. He braced himself for rejection.

“Look, Logan…” he cut Logan off. Rip the Band-Aid off. Bite the bullet. Not let the obtuse blonde with the emotional delicacy of a drunk bull in a glass shop break his heart. “I’m sorry about last year. It wasn’t fair to put that kind of stress on you.”

“Julian…”

“It’s not how I wanted to tell you; it’s not how I wanted you to know about… me.” He was looking everywhere except at Logan. “I get that you don’t feel the same, and it’s fine, honestly, and—”

“Julian.” Logan’s voice was firmer, and he ducked to meet Julian’s gaze. “What you had to do last year in that room… it’s not your fault, you have nothing to apologize for. I should be the one apologizing for the way I treated you.”

Julian stared, and Logan took his silence as a cue to continue—he had always been uncomfortable with awkward silences.

“When you were in that coma and when you left—all I could think about was how much of a shitty and horrible friend I was to you. All the nice things you did to me, and I couldn’t even be bothered to tell you how much I cared about you.”

Logan’s voice was thick with emotion, and his voice shook near the end. His free hand found Julian’s and he squeezed it, and Julian suspected that it was not to comfort him, but to reassure himself that Julian was still there. “You’re my best friend, Jules, and I hate that you didn’t feel comfortable enough to open up to me about your sexuality.”

“It wasn’t that I didn’t feel comfortable, Lo, it…” he took a steeling breath. “I was afraid that even if I came out to you, I wouldn’t be able to use the excuse that you thought I was straight to myself on why you didn’t like me back. That there was something wrong with me.”

He chewed on his lower lip to fight the tears he felt welling up, looking down at the ground, feeling like his chest was collapsing in on itself from the weight of everything he had held so close to him, like a dying star unable to fight the strength of its own gravity anymore. He suddenly felt Logan step close and press his lips to the top of Julian’s head.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Jules,” Logan murmured softly. Julian leaned closer until his forehead was resting on Logan’s shoulder. “I wracked my brain for so long after because I want to give you a real answer. But all I ended up with was I don’t want to lose you.”

Julian sniffed and laughed wryly. “Only I can get rejected a year later.”

“It’s not a rejection.”

Julian looked up, confused. It sounded an awful lot like a rejection to him. Logan cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably. “But... it’s not a yes, either. I never let myself go there for so long that… it’s hard for me right now to sort through everything I’m feeling about you and everything.”

He waved his hand in a vague motion to their surroundings, and it was then when Julian realized they were standing in the garden where the art hall once stood. It had taken a lot of money to redo the area, but it was a beautiful meditation garden, with the new art hall not far from its original location. Julian could never bring himself to visit, but now that he was standing in the middle of it, he wished he had come sooner. There was a tranquility to it, in a comforting way.

“I love you. I’ll always love you, but I don’t know if it’s the same way you feel about me.” Logan exhaled sharply through his nose. “I probably talked with my therapist about this for hours—she’s likely sick of it—and I wish I had an answer for you, Jules, but I’m not in the place to date anyone right now, and…” Logan met Julian’s gaze again. “You deserve to be with someone who has that answer for you. Today, not someday.”

Julian nodded, wiping some stray tears away. It hurt in the moment, hearing it, but there was an incredible weight lifted off his shoulders. Logan gave him an open-ended answer, but he was right. Maybe in another lifetime, or a hundred others, this could’ve worked out, they just happened to be in this one. And they had to just live with that and keep moving forward.

Logan smiled a little, tilting his head. “I don’t want to say I’ll never fall madly in love with you, because I absolutely did have a crush on you freshman year—”

Julian choked on his coffee. “You what??”

Logan snorted, handing Julian a tissue from his bag. “I mean, yeah. Look at you, Jules. I was in a horrible growth spurt, none of my clothes fit right, and I had braces, and you wanted to be friends with me, nonetheless. How could I not? I think I spent half that year just hiding boners.”

That, for some odd reason, made Julian laugh. “I think we all did, Lo. And you weren’t as much of a disaster as you thought you were.”

“Oh, I really was.”

Julian sat down on one of the benches and sipped his coffee. “What made you stop? Crushing on me, I mean.”

Logan sat down next to him, gazing out ahead of them. His face had changed as they got older, jawline and profile sharpened with adulthood, but there was still a softness of youth in his cheeks. He had grown up so much in the last four years—hell, in the last two years. Julian wondered if Logan looked at him and felt the same. “Your friendship meant more, and I didn’t want to mess it up.”

Somehow, those words soothed Julian. Logan had liked him at one point, maybe their crushes even overlapped, but being friends with Julian, having him still in Logan’s life—it came before any teenage crush. And maybe Julian could figure out how to do the same.

“We…” Logan’s voice took on that nervous edge again, and he fidgeted on the cold stone bench. “We are still friends, right?”

Julian snorted. “We? You’re like a stray cat that keeps following me home, I might as well get you a collar and kibble and call you mine.”

“Kinky.”

He rolled his eyes but glanced over at Logan with a grin. “Of course, we’re still friends, dumbass.”

Logan’s shoulders sagged in relief, and he slung an arm around Julian. “Good. I really need someone to outweigh Derek’s eventual frat boy transformation.”

“Who says I’m not going to pledge my eternal soul Kappa Kappa Omegaverse or whatever those guys do?”

Logan rolled his eyes. “You’re not going to college, Jules. You told the college counselor to her face that college is for boring nerds and virgin try-hards.”

“And I stand by that.”

Logan laughed openly now, his laugh ringing through the meditation garden. A few students trying to meditate shot them glares. “God, I’m going to miss you in the fall. You are coming to visit me in New York, right?”

Julian grinned, nudging Logan’s side. “Are you kidding? I’m on the EGOT train now—where else am I supposed to get a Tony? Columbus??”

“Good,” Logan said before standing up, holding a hand out for Julian. His fingertips were red from the cold. “We should get out of here; I don’t like staying here for too long… feels too weird.”

Julian took his hand, and Logan hauled him to his feet. “What? Afraid the ghost of Greg Harvey is going to give you a gold star for finally being a mature big boy?”

Logan grimaced. “Too soon, Jules.”

“Let me joke about my own traumatic experiences, Wright!” Julian huffed as they walked out of the meditation garden. Logan rolled his eyes, but gently bumped shoulders with Julian.

“You are a plague and a nuisance, Larson.”

Julian chuckled, throwing his empty coffee cup in a nearby trash can. “But you love me.”

“Unfortunately.”

Logan and Julian made their way to Stuart House, and as they were climbing the stairs, Sebastian came out with a flurry of energy. He had earbuds in, and Julian could hear the indie-techno-whatever blasting into Sebastian’s skull. Sebastian was texting furiously his phone and barely spared them a glance, passing them as if they weren’t there. Julian paused, watching Sebastian walk towards possibly Windsor House.

“Are you still feuding with him?” Logan’s voice startled him out of his thoughts. Julian cleared his throat and walked back into Stuart.

“Yes. No. I’m not entirely sure,” Julian huffed, walking into the front sitting room, glaring at the few freshman until they scattered off like cockroaches when the lights were turned on. “Are you still fucking him?”

Logan flushed red and mumbled some noncommittal answer. Julian rolled his eyes. He hoped that Logan would have enough common sense to stay out of the public eye—he couldn’t lie about his private life worth shit.

“Thanks for having my back, Lo.”

Logan sat on one of the overstuffed armchairs after depositing his jacket ungracefully across the armrest. “In my defense, you were acting like a dick.”

Julian sat across from him and rubbed his temples. “Do you think he’s just trying to get back at me?”

Logan shrugged. “I don’t think so—it only happened twice with me. A few times with Derek, but D won’t tell me squat about that.”

“I won’t tell you what?” Derek asked, entering the room and sitting next to Julian.

“How many times you let Sebastian touch your dick,” Logan replied, and Derek glared at him, kicking his ankle sharply.

“Ow!”

“So you two finally made up?” Derek asked, pointedly changing the subject.

“We weren’t even fighting,” Logan huffed, rubbing his bruised ankle, glaring at Derek.

“No, but it’s been awkward as hell around you two all year. I’d almost rather go back home, and watch my parents’ impending divorce,” Derek huffed. Logan and Julian glanced at each other then back at Derek.

“Do you want to talk about it, D?” Logan asked gently.

“Absolutely not.”

Julian chimed in, reaching over to squeeze Derek’s wrist. “You know we’re here for you if you ever need anything—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, you’re both great friends, whatever. I’ve been planning for this since I was eleven, and if I play my cards right, I could get a brand-new McLaren out of pity before I start at Yale. Now tell me about your disaster love lives because they’re much more interesting,” Derek said.

“What love lives?” Logan snorted derisively, and Julian’s phone chimed. It was Clark—who was on the first leg of the tour with Haven for the release of their newest album. It was a heartstoppingly beautiful sunset in Menorca, Spain. ‘La vida es bella. Hope you are well(a)!’ Clark had captioned with a smiley face. Derek craned his neck to glance at Julian’s phone screen.

“Speak for yourself, Lo. It looks like someone might have something developing,” Derek teased, and Julian glared at him. Logan smirked, looking curious.

“Shut up, D.”

Logan laughed. “Is it Sawyer?”

“Mhm.”

“I hate you both,” Julian grumbled, putting his phone on silent. “We’re just friends. Clark’s straight anyhow.”

“How do you know that?” Logan raised an eyebrow. “Because I used to assume the same thing, and now here I am—across from the two friends I assumed were straight, and it turns out we’ve all slept with the same boy. Unless he said it—you could be wrong.”

Derek and Julian both made faces at him. Julian stood up, brushing invisible lint off of his jeans with a haughty sniff. “I have Newman’s project to finish.”

Derek caught Julian’s wrist. “Hey. Are you going to talk to Sebastian?”

Julian paused. He knew he had to, but Sebastian was so much harder than Logan. At least Logan didn’t actively hate his guts. “Later. I need to figure out what to say, and you two have the emotional maturity when it comes to relationships of a couple of preschoolers.”

“Don’t wait until the night before graduation, Julian,” Logan warned.

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks, Dad. I’ll be at Hanover. Don’t wait up.”

Logan frowned. “Hanover? Why?”

Julian shrugged, grabbing his book bag. “Danny’s my partner for the project, and it’s due tomorrow.”

“I finished that weeks ago!!”

“That’s due tomorrow??”

Derek and Logan’s voices came simultaneously. Derek stared at Logan incredulously, half horrified.

“You haven’t started???”

Logan threw his hands up. “I’ll just bullshit something, it’ll be fine!”

“Who’s your partner?”

“Reed.”

“At least it’ll be nice looking bullshit—”

“Hey.”

Julian left the two of them to squabble, texting Danny that he was on his way. As easy as it would be to put off the confrontation until the night before graduation in case Sebastian didn’t take it well, Julian knew he had to stop putting off things like this just because he was scared of facing difficult conversations. Danny had always been a great person to talk to about this—he had been since the summer before when Julian had taken up swimming and water aerobics as part of his physical therapy. He would know just what to say.

“I think you’re overthinking this,” Danny panted, fingers digging into Julian’s bare thighs as Julian bounced on Danny’s lap with an enthusiastic vigor, feeling more and more of Danny push inside of him with each movement. Danny was a surprising grower, Julian had come to find, and he wanted to be absolutely stuffed. Truth be told, they had finished Newman’s project long ago, but it was an easy excuse for Julian to come over without having to sneak around and make up believable excuses for the nosy Nellies of Stuart House like he had to since the previous summer. At least Hanover knew how to keep a secret.

“I’m not,” Julian huffed breathlessly. Danny grinned and held Julian’s thighs in place so he was fully sheathed inside of the actor. Julian whined and wriggled, desperate for some movement. Danny held him still on his lap.

“You are,” Danny replied, pulling Julian down into a sloppy kiss. He suddenly rolled them over so he was on top, Julian’s legs hooked over his shoulders. “You’re a chronic overthinker, Julian.”

He started up the pace again, the new angle allowing him to go deeper. Julian moaned loudly, trying to grasp at something, but Danny grabbed his hands, pinning them above his head. Julian arched his back up, fingers lacing with Danny’s. The bed squeaked underneath them, but Julian was so frenzied, he wouldn’t care in that moment if Kurt’s old school could hear them. Julian couldn’t even get his brain to string together enough coherent thoughts to come up with half of a snarky comeback as Danny plowed him into his mattress, hitting right up against his prostate. Julian swore loudly, and Danny moved a hand to cover Julian’s mouth with a grin.

“Quiet now,” Danny said lowly, and Julian bucked his hips up in response. Danny’s thrusts became faster and more erratic, as he got closer to his climax. Next time, Julian was going to find a big empty room far away from people where they can be as loud as they wanted.  

Danny moaned lowly as he came deep inside Julian, the other not far behind. Julian closed his eyes, steadying his breathing as his heart slammed against his chest from the physical exertion. Danny, ever the star athlete, looked less wiped, sitting on the side of the bed, and gingerly rolled the condom off, placing it in a tissue and throwing it in the trash.

“’M not a chronic overthinker,” Julian huffed, once he regained the ability to say a coherent sentence. Danny chuckled, and leaned over to kiss Julian’s forehead, then his lips.

“From one chronic overthinker to another—yes, you are. I think you’re building up a confrontation in your head, and it’s scaring you more than actually doing it. Sebastian seems reasonable. But saying something is better than saying nothing at all,” Danny reasoned, and Julian tugged him down onto the bed next to him, ignoring how sweaty and sticky they both were.

“You certain you want to go to Oxford in the fall and not UCLA?” Julian asked, making his eyes big and pleading. Danny tenderly brushed hair out of Julian’s face.

“Very. You’re always welcome to visit, though.”

“I’m going to take you up on that. You’ll get sick of me.” Julian grinned impishly up at Danny, who leaned down and captured Julian’s smiling mouth in a deep, but all too fleeting, kiss. Julian hated how good at kissing Danny was—it made him hungry for him all the more.

“Doubtful. Now let’s get you washed up,” Danny helped Julian onto wobbly feet, but Julian didn’t care. He leaned against Danny, lips brushing the heated skin of Danny’s neck.

“Only if you help me,” Julian replied, sliding his index finger down Danny’s chest and torso lightly. He could feel Danny growing hard again against his leg.

“Always.”

--

Julian stepped out of his bathroom for the third shower that day after a marathon “studying” session with Danny when he noticed he had a missed call from Clark. It was likely mid-morning where he was. Clark picked up on the second ring.

“Hello, Julian,” Clark’s voice was like warm summer sunshine in his ear.

“You didn’t leave a voice message,” Julian replied in answer, grinning a little at his phone. Clark laughed, a little sheepishly.

“Forgot about time zones. Figured you were likely asleep—why are you still up? Isn’t it 3 am in Ohio?”

“Finishing up a school project. Lost track of time,” Julian replied, sitting on his bed, pushing damp hair out of his face.

“Don’t have a lot more of those left, do you?”

“No… this is one of the last ones. Weird, isn’t it? To work at something for so long and suddenly—it’s just over?” Julian wasn’t sure if it was the late hour or Clark’s presence—even through the distance that separated them physically—that made him more comfortable to open up.

“So you’re not going to attend college?”

“Definitely not,” Julian said with a snort. There was a pause, and Julian thought he could hear seagulls from wherever Clark was talking to him from. He wished with his whole body he was there.

“How are you, J?”

“Good, actually…? Logan and I talked today about… about last year.”

“How did it go?” Clark asked gently, not prying, but also not letting Julian sweep anything under the rug.

“It went weirdly well, I think? I don’t know. I feel better, somehow. He and Derek are going to spend half of their summer break in LA,” Julian rambled.

“That sounds like fun. I’m glad you were able to talk to him.”

“Yeah…”

“And Sebastian?”

Julian paused. And Sebastian…? He didn’t know how to answer that. “I don’t… I don’t know. I’m still angry at him, and…”

“Why are you angry at him?” Clark’s question cut through like a blinding light streaking through darkness.

Much to Julian’s dismay, it all comes tumbling out. “It’s just—I’m gone for a little bit, it’s my job—and I come back and suddenly everything has changed?? Like what am I supposed to do? It’s not fair, I’m not… I’m not good with my emotions like he is. I want to be better, I do, but he just pushed me away before I can try, and—and suddenly I’m the villain. I don’t want to be the villain in his story, and it hurts that that’s all he sees me as—”

Julian stopped, realizing what he was saying and starts laughing. Hysterically.

“Julian?” Clark’s voice is full of concern.

“Oh god, I am acting like a total asshole, aren’t I?” Julian laughed, and much to his dismay, his laughs turned into soft sobs. Or a weird hiccup-y combination of both. “I don’t want to be the villain, Clark.”

“You’re not,” Clark’s voice felt strong and sure.

“How are you so sure?”

“Because this isn’t a movie, this is real life. People are more complex than heroes and villains—as easy as it is to simplify them to it,” Clark responded. Julian sniffed. He felt exhausted.

“How do I fix this? He hates me.”

“First? Get some sleep. Talk to him tomorrow. A simple, good, apology can go a long way, and I doubt he hates you,” Clark stated as if it was the easiest thing in the world. “It’s never easy to admit you were wrong, but you never seemed like the type to back away from a challenge.”

“Yeah… yeah, you’re right.”

“Get some sleep, okay? It’ll feel better in the morning.”

“Alright… goodnight, Clark.”

“Goodnight, Julian.”

Clark was right. He felt a lot better in the morning. And as he went through his day, he knew what he needed to do. Down the hall, he could hear Sebastian and Logan’s voices coming from Logan’s bedroom. He picked up Logan’s notebook from his desk. This wasn’t a movie, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t utilize a good, old-fashioned meet-cute, even if it was to apologize for being an apathetic dick. Julian squared his shoulders in front of Logan’s door. Not too long ago, he had been in this exact same position, and he had been too scared to go in, to face the outcome. Not this time. It was time to make some of that so-called Good Different happen.

--

The Dalton-Dobry students cheered as Haven stepped off the stage at Prom. Julian grinned, handing Clark a cool drink, who gratefully accepted it. “Congrats on your easiest performance.”

“I wouldn’t say that” Clark said with a grin. “I don’t want to be the reason your senior prom memories are screwed up.”

“Doubt that would ever happen.”

“Never say never.”

Julian let the band cool off, weaving through the crowd. He passed by Kurt and Blaine staring lovingly into each other’s eyes like they were the only two people in the world. Gross. Not far from them, Shane and Reed were swaying together (well, Reed was swaying, Shane was likely holding him upright) whispering and smiling to each other. The McKinley girl that Derek had brought was chatting Derek’s ear off at one of the booths, but Derek seemed more than happy to let her excitedly talk. They likely weren’t going to stay for much longer.

“Hey,” Logan’s voice was suddenly by his ear, and Julian nearly jumped ten feet.

“Jesus, Lo. Don’t do that!” Julian huffed, and Logan laughed like the asshole that he was.

“Do you wanna dance?” Logan asked, holding his hand out. Julian sighed.

“Fine, but only because I’m feeling nostalgic tonight,” Julian replied, letting Logan lead him onto the dance floor. They swayed a little together, close enough to feel warmth radiating from the other. They were surrounded by other seniors, all soaking up the last moments of their time at Dalton Academy. It just felt so…

“It’s weird,” Julian suddenly piped up.

“What is?” Logan replied, looking confused.

Julian shrugs. “I don’t know—just the whole thing being almost over.”

“What’re you talking about?” Logan replies with a grin. He spun Julian around, who laughed at his antics. “It’s not over—if anything, everything has only just begun.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Julian conceded. Logan puffed up a little, smug.

“I’m always right.”

“You are absolutely not.”

They danced a little together, and Julian laughed when Logan tried to do the foxtrot with him when the music changed. They stepped off the dance floor to grab drinks when Logan caught his arm.

“Hey.”

“Mm?”

Logan smiled at him. “I’m really glad you’re here. Honestly, I was really worried that this year would suck, after the past three years, but… it turned out alright, I think?”

“Ended your high school career on a bang?”

“I could’ve stood to end it with a bang,” Logan grumbled into his punch, then saw Julian’s expression. “What?? I have needs.”

“Whore.”

“Hypocrite.”

They both half-glared at each other until they couldn’t keep up their false anger anymore and started giggling. Julian bumped shoulders with Logan, who bumped him right back.

“I’m surprised you didn’t bring anyone. I would’ve been certain you’d be dragging some pretty boytoy off to Stuart House by now,” Julian replied. Logan smirked at him, waggling his eyebrows.

“Who says I’m not?”

“I’m not some pretty boytoy, Wright—" Julian smacked his arm. “I am a goddamn Academy Award winning actor, you fermented omelet—!"

“Hey! I’ve got almost four years of gay banter and insults that I need to catch up on!” Logan defended. “That’s a lot of ground to cover!”

“You—!”

He lunged at Logan, who laughed and hopped back, out of Julian’s reach, which only made him more frustrated. Logan suddenly caught Julian’s wrist and spun him around. Julian opened his mouth to protest when he saw Sebastian standing there, looking both confused and slightly amused.

“I was going to ask you to dance, but if you’re busy…”

“He’d love to,” Logan replied before Julian could answer, then leaned down to whisper into Julian’s ear. “Remember, Jules—courage.”

“Fuck you.”

Julian felt the warmth of Logan’s palm on his back, fingers splayed, for a half second and then suddenly he was being shoved into Sebastian’s arms.

“Eager to dance?” Sebastian asked with a grin. Julian huffed as he tried to regain some of his lost dignity, drawing himself up to his full height. All-almost-six-whole-Academy-Award-winning-feet of it.

“Sure.”

Sebastian led him back out onto the dance floor. The song changed, and Julian thought he recognized it from one of Sebastian’s playlists. Sebastian’s arm was warm around his waist as they moved together. Sebastian’s eyes gleamed under the party lights, and his face seemed softer somehow. More real. More present.

“I’m sorry if I screwed up your senior year,” Julian admitted after a long moment of silence.

“You didn’t.” Sebastian replied. “I found ways to enjoy it.”

“How so?”

Sebastian’s smile widened into what Julian could only describe as a Cheshire grin. “A gentleman never kisses and tells, kitten.”

“That’s a big fat fucking lie.”

“Maybe another time I’ll tell you,” Sebastian replies easily. “For now, let’s enjoy this song.”

Julian let himself be led into the dance, handing over reigns of control to Sebastian. Their bodies moved together for the first time in a long time, without speaking, without ever feeling the need to say a word. There was an exhilarating sense of freedom in just letting the dance happen. Letting Sebastian happen. He often felt tied down—by his and others’ expectations of him, by his own fear, by his own shame. But for once, possibly for the first time, he didn’t feel a single string on him.

“Do you remember our last night in Paris?” Julian suddenly asks. Sebastian looks confused, but nods. Julian took a deep breath. There had been something needling him, deep down, for a very long time, like a parasite festering and growing, eating its surroundings until it was ready to burst.

“Why didn’t you come to the airport?”

Sebastian’s hands dropped. “Julian—”

“I waited for you. For hours. I wanted you to come—” Julian felt his voice crack as a lump formed in his throat. “Why didn’t you?”

“I tried.” Sebastian’s eyes were shining now with unshed tears, and Julian was speechless, for once. “I really tried. I got stuck in traffic—I didn’t get to the airport until thirty minutes after your plane took off.”

Julian took a shaky inhale. “You… you wanted…”

“Yes. More than anything.”

Julian surged forward, wrapping his arms tightly around Sebastian, hugging him with every last bit of strength he possessed. It was then he finally let the tears fall. “You wanted me.”

“How could I not?” Julian felt Sebastian’s arms wind themselves around him. They stood like that for a long time, Julian’s face pressed into Sebastian’s shoulder and Sebastian’s fingers tangled in his hair. When they finally pulled away, Sebastian’s face was red and splotchy, and Julian knew his was too.

Julian frowned. “Why didn’t you text or call?”

“Why didn’t you?” Sebastian retorted.

They both started laughing at the absurdity of the situation they put themselves in. Somehow, in that moment, everything seemed much more simple than it had been a year prior. “We’re so stupid.”

“The stupidest.”

Julian laced his fingers in Sebastian’s. The air between them seemed clearer—even more so than it had in Paris, like the rain had come and washed everything away. “What now?”

Sebastian sighed, squeezing Julian’s hand. “I don’t know, but… friends? At least?”

Julian smiled, and Sebastian returned it shyly. Julian had forgotten how beautiful Sebastian’s real smile was. “Friends. Definitely.”

The song changed to a higher energy one. Sebastian squeezed Julian’s hand one last time before letting him go. “I think there’s someone who wants to dance with you, kitten.”

Julian frowned and turned around and spotted Clark at the edges of the dance floor. Clark smiled when he noticed Julian and started weaving his way through in their direction.

“Don’t let yourself get in the way of what you want, Julian,” Sebastian said quietly, then gently pushed Julian towards Clark, who steadied him easily.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

Julian looked back; Sebastian had disappeared into the crowd. He smiled up at Clark. “Want to dance?”

“Yes please.”

Clark danced a little bit like a dad—in the best way possible, obviously. Julian laughed, letting Clark spin and twirl him around, his guitar calloused hands wrapped firmly around Julian’s own, keeping Julian close by, no matter how fast he spun.

“I’ve been thinking about what you told me—about good change,” Julian finally said. Clark seemed intrigued.

“You have?”

“Yeah, I think I finally know what you mean,” Julian said, swinging their joined hands together.

“You’ll have to tell me about it sometime—maybe over dinner? After my tour?” Clark stated, feigning calm innocence. Julian grinned a little, squeezing Clark’s hands.

“Clark Sawyer, are you asking me on a date?” He teased. He did not expect Clark’s answer.

“Maybe I am,” Clark’s cheeks were tinged pink, but it could’ve also been the lights. Julian felt a giddy bubble of butterflies burst in his stomach.

“I’d love to.” Julian was sure his face was red, but for once, he didn’t care.

Clark smiled, a brilliant sight. “Good. But for now—” he pulled Julian towards his schoolmates and friends who were dancing the night away on the floor. “Lets enjoy your prom.”

--

“Sebastian Edmund Smythe.”

Sebastian heard his family and friends cheer as he walked across the stage, the graduation gown flittering around his legs. He smiled politely as he was handed his diploma from Headmaster Winters, shaking his wrinkled hand. He glanced over his shoulder—at Bailey, grinning from rafters behind him, about to make the walk himself—at Logan, Derek, Julian, Kurt, Han, and Blaine, grinning and clapping from the sea of graduates—at his family in the auditorium, parents proudly clapping, Alphonse fascinated with everything related to Dalton, and Reginald smiling bigger than Sebastian had seen him in a while.

It wasn’t the last time he was going to see these faces—as much as they annoyed him, they had wriggled their way permanently into his life. He hadn’t expected to enjoy this year as much as he did—and it felt like it had passed by simultaneously in the blink of an eye and twelve long years—but as he walked across the stage into his new chapter, his new song, he never felt more sure in his path forward.

All that was left was to start his new adventure.