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“I have to go—I’m sorry.” The words came out half-heartedly.
For a brief moment, all Sebastian could do was stare blankly at the ceiling in a bit of a confused haze. He was blissed out of his mind from the night shared. Still riding the high from an afterglow, then getting hit with whiplash, as he fully took in and acknowledged the words of his sudden hasty departure.
A part of him did not want to make a big deal out of this.
He didn’t have a right to.
They weren’t anything more than a hookup to each other, or at least, that’s how things started—how they were meant to be—how they should remain. Even then, Sebastian wasn’t sure where they stood now. Not with how Kurt started to become flighty. It was beginning to become more and more jarring and apparent and concerning the more adamant he was to leave and how their exchanges were losing their length.
But it wasn’t his right to know more or why.
Even then—
“What do you mean you ‘have to go’?”
—he couldn’t help himself.
Sebastian snapped out of his daze, throwing himself out of bed and pulling on clothes to keep up with him.
“I just have to—” The words rushed past his lips. Kurt threw a glance behind, towards him. A hint of confusion was recognized behind the man-made wall of ice, barely noticeable had he not furrowed his brows. “Why are you even asking?”
It was an act out of character. Sebastian knew he was never one to ask about his whereabouts, especially in such a manner. He forced an air of casualness—the same haughtiness that gets him through the day—to pretend he was just curious.
Tossing on his signature smirk, he snides, “Because I can.”
It was obvious in the way Kurt was glaring and how he had his brows fixated in a furrow that he thought this was weird. However, there was a stronger need for him to leave, again, for whatever reason. Thus as Kurt’s hand ghosted over his pants, Sebastian quickly pulled it back and away, forcing him to stay a moment longer.
Kurt rolled his eyes and sighed deeply at this. “Don’t be a child.”
Sebastian’s facade wavered, if only briefly. He knew he should shut up, but he couldn’t help but pester. “Why do you even need to leave so soon? It’s barely eight.”
He took a deep breath in and a deep breath out, in annoyance, then he held a hand out. ”Give me back my pants,” he spoke it in a tone, almost reminiscent of someone reprimanding a child.
Almost instinctively, he held the pants tighter. “No.”
Kurt ran his hand through his hair, a tick of agitation, as he took another long breath. “When have you ever bothered about this? You don’t need to know where I’m going or why. I’m not your boyfriend.”
It was spoken with the intent to dismiss this whole interaction, and the lack of care in his tone set him off.
“What am I then?”
The shock on Kurt’s face was reflective of the same astonishment Sebastian had for himself for even blurting such a thing, but if he was anything, he was prideful. He wasn’t going to retract his words once they were already out.
Sebastian swallowed the lump in his throat, keeping his words even, to try not to make his pain evident. “What am I to you if I’m not your boyfriend?”
His eyes squinted a bit, in continuous scrutiny and confusion. He spoke slowly, as though he needed to make his words clear and easily digestible for him. “We agreed we were just hooking up. Why are you being weird about this?”
He wanted to ignore and push past how Kurt sounded demeaning. He wanted to ignore how the belittlement in his tone left an aching twinge in his chest. “Because I feel like there’s something more.”
“There’s not.” It was spoken too quickly, too easily.
“Then why do I feel like there is?” He didn’t give him a chance to reply. “Sure, we agreed for this to just be sex, but lately we’ve been hanging out without it—we’ve been doing things couples do. I literally took you out to dinner earlier tonight.”
“Okay?” There was an urgency in his tone, a need to leave. “But as you said, we agreed this wouldn’t be anything more, so I don’t know what you want from me.”
Sebastian couldn’t keep the words from tumbling in quick succession, with barely a breath between the sentences. “I just want to know what I am to you. You let me take you on things that resemble dates. You let me hold you at night. You let me understand parts of you that you’ve never given to anyone else. You let me do everything a partner would do for you—so I don’t understand why you’re being so dismissive about this. I don’t understand why you’re so quick to pretend there isn’t anything more.” Maybe for once, he could appreciate inheriting his father's traits, pushing back and being argumentative.
Kurt scoffed, but he couldn’t meet his gaze. His eyes were frantic in looking at everything but Sebastian’s eyes. “Because you wanted to do those things. I never forced you to do anything. If you’re making up things in your head, that’s on you.”
“So I’m nothing to you,” he spoke almost too casually, a forced mocking smile painted on his lips. “I’m actually just some toy for you—?”
“Of course not!” His voice raised an octave, when he spoke in such a quick, exasperated manner.
Sebastian pushed back, in a desperate, firm tone, “Then just tell me what this is.”
“I can’t!” Kurt closed his eyes briefly, once again taking a deep breath to calm down. Then he silently stepped close to snatch his pants back. “I can’t give you an answer.”
“Why?” he breathed out.
Kurt remained quiet.
It was near silent, as Sebastian gave up and plainly watched him get dressed. He stomped down his need to chase after him, when Kurt turned to leave—and when he stopped at the door? He wished he could ignore the flutter in his stomach, when their eyes met once more.
Kurt spoke barely above a whisper, “Sebastian?”
“Yeah?” he replied in the same distant, hush way.
“What we have is fine as it is. Don’t try to make it something it can’t be.”'
Then he left.
A part of Sebastian wanted to break down, but he did this to himself. What right did he have to find sadness over something he knew wasn’t going to be anything more? He agreed for things to just be hookups, but he wanted more and he hated how his heart yearned. He should drop this and hold onto what he can, but his mind scrambled back to how Kurt left.
The slight quiver in the words he spoke.
Strained.
Reluctant.
Forced.
After spending the near entirety of summer together, Kurt’s voice was something he wished was a constant ring in his ears, which meant he held onto every breath and syllable that passed by that man’s lips. He could read his tone—and from that alone, he knew Kurt couldn’t give a proper answer, because he didn’t know what they were either.