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harmony

Summary:

noun, plural harmonies.
1.
agreement; accord; harmonious relations.
2.
a consistent, orderly, or pleasing arrangement of parts; congruity.

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There’s a gaping hole in the right side of his face that haunts him with every step he takes.

Notes:

Idk *throws it at people*
It was supposed to be oneshot porn, evolved into oneshot family fluff. What even is my life. Also sebste has taken over me, they have so much potential.
It's unbeta'd tho, so sorry for mistakes. Might fix them one day, if I'm not dead and on the verge of mental breakdown via university assignment.

Work Text:

There’s a gaping hole in the right side of his face that haunts him with every step he takes.

No matter how hard he tries, no matter what he does, it’s still there. He can brush his hair over it, he can wear a fancy eyepatch – but the hole surrounded by marred tissue will still be there, it will still be ugly and will continue to make him sick, and afraid to look into the mirror.

He knows he’s insane – honestly, everyone is, but he embraces it fully – and it would be a lie if he said that this disfigurement did not play a part in it. Because this is what it is – a disfigurement, most of the right side of his face either a gaping hole or an ugly, ugly scar. And capturing moments much the same as the one that gave it to him has become quite an obsession.

But in the end, he realizes, all he ever wanted was someone to see past that which he could not. That’s why he made his art – because when people focused on his macabre pictures, they didn’t on his face.

Then, MOBIUS came along. He thought it’d be different, starting anew – but everything was the same.

At least, until world started falling apart, and everyone placed their bets on a little girl that could grant them powers, and proceeded to disregard her father, who really did not have anything else to loose. He did, too – at first. Actually, it took almost-dying to reconsider his choices, but it was worth it, this change of heart of his. Because he had power, and his aid was invaluable, as he soon proved.

It was difficult at first, working together. They tried to kill one anther mere hours ago, both with varying degrees of success, but the interest and determination allowed them to push through and withhold the horrors this progressively worse hell could throw at them, and by the end of the day, he was proud to say that they worked sort of a truce.

He also has to admit – however it pains him - that all that blood and death had somewhat lost its appeal. Like too much of favorite candy.

And then it stopped. For a while he feared he actually died. He didn’t want to die.

And then he woke up – to Sebastian’s half-concerned and half-irritated face.

Stefano couldn’t remember the last time he was genuinely happy – but there he was, in an underground facility, having woken up from god-knows-how-long coma-like state, half-submerged in a filthy liquid and in state of total disarray. But he couldn’t help smiling up at the man who he grown to really enjoy annoying over the short span of their time together.

So, of course, he followed Sebastian. It’s not like he had anything, or anyone, to stay for or with.


 

There’s a gaping hole in the right side of his face that haunts him with every step he takes.

But it hurts a little bit less now – it’s not such a great burden as it was ever since he received it. He doesn’t even mind it as much, especially on days like these, when the shrapnel that took his eye doesn’t hurt at all, and even if his rather haphazardly brushed hair doesn’t quite cover the side of his face.

But the only people in the house, aside from him, are Lily, entirely focused on her homework, and Sebastian, brewing himself yet another cup of his favorite, disgustingly bitter coffee. And in this silent, idyllic, homely place that doesn’t suit him or his flashy, flamboyant style, he’s finally found his home. Somewhere he genuinely wants to stay.

He hasn’t killed anybody ever since they left MOBIUS behind them, a little over a year ago. He doesn’t even feel the need to, despite always having his camera within arm’s reach. He makes different photos now.

They’re bright and colorful and so full of life.

They’re mostly Lily and Sebastian, really, because Stefano gets the feeling that the man just wants to make up for all these years apart somehow – but there are some, a constantly growing number, of Stefano and Lily, or of Stefano and Sebastian, a bit shaky and not quite from right angle, down by Lily. But she’s getting there.

What still, after this time, manages to catch him by surprise though, is just how well he fits in with this little family of two. Or maybe is it three of them, really? He’s no stranger, or a necessary evil, or a bystander. He helps Lily with homework and takes her shopping, because Sebastian has no taste whatsoever. They banter, constantly, jabs that aren’t really jabs and argue over which coffee to buy, or if Sebastian is allowed to get himself a pack of cigarettes.

Stefano never lets him. The smell is dreadful, and he can’t stand it. Neither can Lily, so Sebastian, who would’ve bought them out of sheer spite, relents, and moves to coffee. When Stefano starts complaining about his cheap, black slop, he just adds another bag.

Asshole.


 

There’s a gaping hole in the right side of his face that haunts him with every step he takes.

And there are nightmares that haunt him, images of war that took his eye, his beauty, and nearly took his life. There are times when the gaping hole in his face is nothing compared to the dull, cold pain he feels in his chest that he cannot explain.

Thy all have nightmares now, persistent faceless fears that follow them, subsiding but never really vanishing. He can’t count just how many times he woke, throat tight and scream unable to tear out of his throat. Or when Sebastian suddenly jerked awake, completely aware and tense, ready to attack. How many times he stayed up late and then woke in the middle of the night to the soft weeping from the other room, how many times he sat in the kitchen with Lily, 3AM in the morning, hot chocolate in hands and shaken relay of yet another frightening memory of hell.

But they manage. Lily is the strongest of them all, really, mind of a child easily harmed but also easily healed with enough nurture. She sleeps with the light off now, and rarely wakes in the middle of the night. And Stefano is just used to the demons, to dealing with them.

So when he senses the tell-tale stiffening of Sebastian’s frame, he just snuggles closer whispering sweet nothings, until muscles loosen and breathing evens.

They are all broken, but they are alive.


 

There’s a gaping hole in the right side of his face that haunts him with every step he takes – but the pain, the trauma it generates is for most part just a bad memory now, and the empty gaping hole in his chest nearly fully healed.

It becomes smaller and smaller with every new day he welcomes. Every morning he wakes in Sebastian’s arms, every breakfast he scolds him for drinking this awful, awful black coffee only to be laughed off. Every time Lily smiles and grabs his hand to chatter excitedly about something, every time she crashes into his legs with a happy squeal when it’s his turn to pick her from school. With every late evening they spend in the living room, watching a movie together, with every kiss placed on his skin when he and Sebastian finally retreat to the privacy of their shared bedroom.

For the first time in ages, he is happy.

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