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Freedom was something that Sebastian had never been able to experience in his miserable life, nor had he ever dared to dream of. He felt as though he was shackled to his family, each of his limbs cuffed to another relative, another cellmate in the prison that he called home, with the butlers fulfilling the roles of wardens, patrolling the halls at all times. Sebastian hadn’t known this to be abnormal until he became acquainted with Ches.
Sebastian felt a curious envy for the boy, he who lived his life without a care in the world. He couldn’t imagine anyone to exist with such a lifestyle. Urinating by the dumpsters, wandering around the city until the moon rose, willingly entering the Conservatory’s entrance exam… Not to mention winning the offer for first place, while doing so. He didn’t know that it was even possible for someone to live this way. To live encapsulated by freedom.
Yet, Sebastian greatly valued the little time he was able to spend with the dishevelled boy. He felt that there were no formalities between them, no standards or expectations from each other; that they were able to interact without the fear of judgement. Sebastian could run his fingers through the gel of his hair; spiking it wildly upwards, and Ches would only giggle and compliment him. Had his father seen such a hairstyle, Sebastian was unsure whether he would live to see another day.
But oftentimes, Sebastian was careless. How could one possibly blame him? When he was with Ches, he seemed to dismiss all of the problems and consequences of his life. But father caught on. Sometimes he smelled something peculiar on his suit jacket, or there was a questionable stain on his slacks. Of course, each discovery came with a suitable punishment. But Sebastian was more than happy to endure the pain so long that he was able to see Ches again at a later time.
Though it had become increasingly difficult to withstand his father’s punishments once his alcohol intake had spiked abruptly. The sound of the ruler’s percussion against his frail wrist only became louder. The wounds only bled harder. His tears became hotter. The pain had become impossible to resist.
Few days passed of Sebastian enduring his father’s behaviour, and the two musicians were returning home from the Conservatory. It was late into the evening as the two had remained in the school to practice a composition they had created together. Ches suggested that they ought to a detour through the park, but the blonde was already familiar with the perils that came with taking such a shortcut.
“Come on, Seb,” Ches whined, draping an arm around his friend’s shoulder. “It’ll be fun. You always have fun whenever we take detours.”
“...I-I can’t,” he stuttered. He did not want to undergo his father’s punishment while he was under the influence of alcohol. “Not this time.”
“Why not? Let’s go! I’ll make it worth your while.”
Before Sebastian was able to open his mouth to protest, Ches had already darted into the lush fields of the park. He followed timidly behind him, attempting to conceal the growing smile tugging on his lips to no avail. He relished in the evening breeze that whispered against the blonde locks of his hair.
“Slow down!” Sebastian laughed from behind him. “I don’t want to crease my suit.”
“No-one cares about your suit!” Ches slumped onto the grass below him, his arms folded behind his head. “Come, lie down next to me.”
Sebastian eyed the dewdrops on the grass, which were almost guaranteed to leave moisture and a scent on his suit that his father was sure to notice. But something, a dim voice in the back of his conscience, told him to listen to Ches. Defy the consequences from his father. Savour the little time he had left to spend with the other boy that day.
Sebastian exhaled, allowing his lips to curl into a smile as he lay beside Ches and copied his posture. But the pressure of his head against his mangled wrists caused sparks of pain to shoot up his arms, as Sebastian sat upright abruptly, an aching yelp escaping from his lips.
“What’s wrong?” Ches asked, raising his head. He eyed Sebastian, who turned so that his back was facing Ches. He was grabbing his right wrist with his left hand in agony. “Are you alright, Seb?”
“Yes!” He spun his head around and replied through clenched teeth, praying that his friend wouldn’t ask further questions. Sebastian had been enjoying himself with Ches so much that he’d forgotten to avoid any contact with his injured wrists. The pain was now unbearable.
But Ches noticed the agony in his eyes. He knew that Seb was lying through his teeth.
“You know you can trust me with anything,” Ches murmured. “We’re friends. We have been for so long. I won’t judge you at all.”
This was dangerous. His mind begged him not to tell Ches. Begged him to keep his mouth shut. Begged him to leave the park and go home.
And what would happen after that? The only thing that awaited at Sebastian’s home was yet another beating from father. He glanced at the sun setting behind the fields of the park; it was some time after 6PM. He was supposed to have arrived home two hours ago.
Sebastian exhaled, eyeing his bandaged arms. Blood began to seep through the cloth, trickling down his skin. The thought of going home to father and receiving even more lashings with that damned ruler caused hot tears to prick his eyes.
He lifted his head and looked towards Ches, who gazed right back at him.
To hell with it; Sebastian would never return home again.
He brought his arms forward, tugging his blazer sleeve with his right hand for Ches to see. His eyes widened with what seemed to be discomfort at the sight of the mutilated skin of his wrists, but was then replaced with compassion.
“Can I touch?” He asked, softly.
Sebastian couldn’t bring himself to form a reply, so he opted to nod hesitantly.
Ches tenderly ran his fingers along his wrists, eliciting a hiss from Sebastian, but hummed in approval afterwards for his friend to continue.
“Did you do this… to yourself, Seb?”
“No,” he sighed. Of course one would assume he would do this to himself. He braced himself as he prepared to answer Ches. “My father does this to me.”
Ches lifted his head, eyes full of sorrow. He placed his hand in Sebastian’s, warmth radiating from their palms. “Why?”
“I’m never good enough for him.” Sebastian fondled Ches’s hand, running his fingers over every crease and fold. “If I make a small mistake, his first initiative is to slap my wrists with a ruler. Or if he’s just bored, he will do it anyway. Everytime I come home late, Ches, he beats me. But I like spending time with you so much; I resist the pain just so that I can see you the next day. He’s been doing this to me for as long as I’ve known. And these scars on my wrists, they’re just a constant reminder that my father will always remain in my shadow, no matter how far I run…”
Tears threatened to spill from his eyes the more he spoke, so he decided to bite his lip as his best efforts to not cry in front of Ches.
“You don’t deserve to go through that.” Sebastian had never heard Ches’s voice to be so sincere, so genuine before. Oftentimes, he was making crude jokes, ridiculing people, catcalling other girls... Seb wanted more of this side of Ches. “I wish you told me about this earlier, I wish I could have helped somehow.”
“It’s okay,” Sebastian attempted to smile. “I’ll live. I’ll sleep on a bench tonight, and–”
“Nonsense,” Ches laughed, standing up. “You can live with me!”
“...Can I, really?” He responded, following his friend. It was all the blonde wanted, but he was too afraid to ask in the case he imposed as insensitive.
“‘Course you can, if it means you’ll be safer. But I’m telling you now, my place isn’t particularly pleasant. I’m sure it’s nothing like your house.”
“Good.”
The sun had set fully by the time the two reached Ches’s 'home', a dilapidated, inoperative caravan in the midst of a mobile home park. Sebastian found it difficult to hide the grimace on his face as his eyes trailed over the vehicle, never having seen such poverty in his lifetime.
“Just don’t wake my mother, alright?”
Ches unlocked the front door, shoving it open as quietly as possible. Tip-toeing past the living room was futile as the sleeping woman in the armchair stirred regardless, demanding for Ches to purchase a pack of beers for her.
“It’s night time, mum. The stores are closed,” he replied bitterly, urging Sebastian to reach his bedroom before she was wide awake.
“You little bastard!--” She slurred, hurling the glass bottle in her hand towards his bedroom door. It shattered immediately, piling onto the floor into a million glistening pieces.
Before she could continue, the two made it swiftly into the room. Ches slammed the door shut, muffling the sound of his mother’s complaints.
Sebastian observed the state of the bedroom; filthy was the first word that came to mind, but upon closer inspection, he adored the creativity and the bizarre quality of the posters and CDs that hung on the wall.
“Your mother’s just awful,” Sebastian commented. “She’s almost as bad as my–”
“You can’t talk about her like that!” Ches retorted in a sudden fury, grabbing the lapels of Seb’s suit jacket. A moment of realisation later, he pulled away and walked towards his bed. “Sorry. It’s just that you don’t know what she’s been through.”
“My apologies,” he answered, unfazed, sitting next to Ches on the mattress. The dim moonlight poured through the crooked blinds of the windows.
“Are… Are your wrists going to be okay?” The brunet glanced at his arms, concealed behind his sleeves.
“Yeah,” Sebastian exhaled. “Don’t worry about them.”
Ches took his hands once more, rolling up Sebastian’s sleeves. He brought an arm closer until his lips reached his wrists, kissing the wounded skin that peeked behind the thin bandages. Ches pulled away, scarlet blood staining his lips and trickling down his chin.
“Hey, be careful.” Sebastian brought up a thumb to wipe the stream of blood, only for it to smear across the brunet’s face. This time he licked his finger, using it to delicately cleanse Ches's face of the remaining blood.
“You don’t mind that I did that?” Ches asked.
“Did what?”
“I kissed your wrist.”
Sebastian felt heat rise to his cheeks, as he found himself unable to look at Ches. “I don’t really mind… I’ve never experienced those kinds of things, after all.”
“I see,” he pouted, lying down. “I’m pretty tired. I think I’m gonna hit the hay. Do you want dinner? There’s probably some takeaway in the fridge, but, you know… My mum’s out there.”
“I can go without it,” he replied politely. Besides, he didn’t want to know how many diseases he would contract if he were to consume that ‘takeaway’.
“Suit yourself. You’re gonna have to join me on this bed, since there’s no space on the floor for you to sleep comfortably.”
Sebastian opened his mouth to protest, since he hadn’t slept in weeks nor felt any desire to– but he was eagerly open to the idea of laying next to Ches on a small, cramped bed, so he nodded, removing his blazer and shoes before settling into the duvet: a thin, worn out cloth that barely reached his feet. At least Ches looked snug; and it wasn’t as though Sebastian was going to get any sleep tonight.
The bed truly was small; Ches’s back lay against Sebastian’s chest, like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. The blonde had trouble deciding where to rest his arms.
“Night, Seb,” he whispered into the air, his smaller frame curled under the covers.
“Good night.” Sebastian considered draping one arm over his chest, his hand hovering over Ches's body, before deciding not to and letting it rest by his side.
“You can hold me, if you want,” Ches murmured playfully.
“O-Okay.” He gently wrapped his arm over his chest, feeling Ches’s heart beat against his palm.
“Can you feel it?” The brunet questioned.
“I can,” Sebastian answered, resting his chin on Ches’s shoulder. “It feels nice.”
Ches tilted his head, planting a chaste kiss on Sebastian’s pale cheek. His eyes widened as he slowly registered the contact between them. “...What was that for?”
“Is it true you’ve never experienced, you know… Intimate stuff?”
“Yes, it is.” He pressed his palm deeper into the other’s chest, choosing to ignore the painful throbbing of his wrist. “I just couldn’t. Not with my father’s constant surveillance.”
“Well, he’s not here now, is he?”
There was a pause between them as Sebastian lifted his head marginally. He hoped Ches wouldn’t notice the scarlet tint of his cheeks. “What are you suggesting?”
“Don’t make me say it,” he grinned. “Have you even had your first kiss?”
“No.” Sebastian went red with shame. “Is that a bad thing?”
“I don’t think it is,” he answered. “So…?”
“...So what?”
“Would you let me be your first?”
Sebastian was taken aback, fumbling for a reply. He didn’t know much about kissing, nor had any experience; he had never even witnessed his parents doing it. He knew Ches was no amateur; every now and then at the Conservatory, he would catch sight of him kissing a new girl each time. But why did he want to kiss Seb? Wasn’t kissing a practice between men and women? Was it even possible between them?
“Just say if you don’t want to,” he broke the silence between them.
“I do.” Sebastian would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious to experience a kiss from his friend.
With a cocky smile, Ches leaned forward so that their lips met, a sensation so new and so overwhelming to Sebastian that he couldn’t help but draw back momentarily, but quickly resumed their kiss. Ches’s lips on his felt soft, warm, and perhaps a little chapped; but he wasn’t one to complain. Before he knew it, Ches pulled away, a grin tugging at his lips.
“What did you think?”
Sebastian was breathless, pink-faced, and something strange yet pleasant was stirring at the pit of his stomach. “...I want more.”
“Tomorrow,” Ches murmured, nuzzling himself into the pillow. “I really am tired. Good night, for real this time.”
Sebastian couldn’t shape a reply, so he chose to bury his nose into Ches’s mop of brown hair, his hand still lingering over his chest. His eyelids fluttered shut, for what could possibly for the first time in weeks; and he held no objections when he found himself drifting into a slumber.