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“Fucking fuck , ouch!” Sebastian curses as he sets down the ripped paper bag and rubs the tender spot on his right hip where he slammed into the doorknob in his desperate attempt to save the groceries.
“Anderson, a little help?” he yells into the small two-bedroom apartment he shares with his flatmate. Silence. He groans. It’s Thursday—he should be back from class by now. Where the hell is he?
“Blaine?” he calls again, but still no response. Kicking the door shut behind him, Sebastian cradles the broken bag and shuffles into the kitchen/living room, shoves the food into the fridge, and then makes his way to Blaine’s bedroom. The door is open.
“Blaine?” he tries again as he steps inside—only to find Blaine sitting cross-legged on the bed, fingers laced behind his head, staring at his phone resting on his lap.
“Hey!” Sebastian says louder this time, finally drawing Blaine’s wide-eyed attention.
“Oh—Sebastian. Hi.” Blaine’s voice is soft, distracted.
Sebastian frowns, glancing between Blaine’s face and the phone. “What happened?”
Now Blaine frowns. “What do you mean?”
Sebastian arches a brow. Blaine sighs, drops his hands, and flops backward onto the mattress. “John texted.”
For a beat, Sebastian blinks. Then a picture flashes in his mind: shaggy brown hair, a boyish grin. His chest tightens. “Wait—what? John ? As in the guy you spent half a night with at the convention three months ago, talking about everything from break-ups to therapy to the Middle East? The guy who kissed you like it was some shitty romcom, had breakfast with you, and then ghosted you because he ‘wasn’t ready for anything serious’? That John?”
Blaine’s sigh answers for him.
Sebastian sits down beside him, maybe a little too close. “So what does he want?” He tries to sound nonchalant, picking dust from Blaine’s duvet.
“It’s about the conference we’re organizing in November. I knew he’d be there—I saw his name on the list. I just wasn’t sure if we’d ignore what happened or… well, ignore each other.”
“So? What does he want?”
“The dates.”
Sebastian looks up, brows furrowed. “The what now ?”
Blaine groans, dragging his hands down his face. “He wants me to confirm the goddamn dates so he can book flights.”
“I still don’t understand.”
“Me neither… he just… yeah.” He sighs and peeks at Sebastian through his fingers before sitting up again, still hiding his face. “And do you know the worst part?” He removes his hands and shakes his head, like he can’t really believe himself. “When his name popped up, for just a teeny-tiny second, just for a moment, my brain went: If he apologized now, maybe we could still turn this into a slow-burn, enemies-to-lovers, epic love story. ”
Sebastian stares. Too long. “You’re… you’re delusional.”
Blaine snorts. “Oh, I know.”
“No, I mean it. You do know he’s not really texting you about the dates, right? He could’ve gotten them from anyone.”
“I know.”
“Seriously, Blaine, listen—it’s not about flights. Trust me. It’s his way of saying, ‘I think I’m available now,’ and checking if you are too.”
“Believe me,” Blaine mutters, “I know.”
Sebastian shoots to his feet, pacing. “ The dates, goddamnit. He couldn’t even come up with a proper cover story. Man, I hate when fuckboys are lazy.” His voice sharpens. “And that’s what he is, Blaine—a fuckboy.” He jabs a finger at him. “And you? You’re a prince. You don’t settle for Mr. Let’s Be Friends. Absolutely not.”
Dropping back onto the bed with a huff, he studies Blaine out of the corner of his eye. His voice softens, almost against his will. “You deserve someone who actually knows what they want when they kiss you.”
Blaine’s lips twitch into a smile. “Naww…”
“I mean it. I hope you told him to go fuck himself.”
Chuckling, Blaine shakes his head. “No. I texted him the dates, he said ‘thank you’, I said ‘you’re welcome’—”
“But he’s not , he’s not welcome!”
“—and that was it. Short, polite, no emojis. I think he got the message.”
Sebastian rolls his eyes, but there’s something tight in his jaw. “You’re way too nice, you know.”
“Well, one of us has to be likable, or we wouldn’t have a social life at all.” Blaine grins, leaning forward—closer, maybe closer than he realizes.
Sebastian swallows, then smirks to cover it. “Good thing I keep you around, then.” He retreats while clearing his throat. “God, I wish you had just told him to go fuck himself, though…,” he mutters, leaning down and propping his head up on one arm. He doesn’t meet Blaine’s eyes at first, instead staring at the blanket, trying to calm the swirling sensation in his belly. Maybe the chili he had earlier is acting up.
In the corner of his eyes, he sees Blaine biting his lip, fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. “I mean…”, he drawls and Sebastian looks up, “maybe it’s not too late? I know, I know, it’s far-fetched but… I mean, the conference is in November. We could talk, see if things—”
“Blaine,” Sebastian interrupts, sharper than he means to be. “Stop.” He leans in closer, eyes dark, serious. “You’ve seen this film before. John isn’t reliable and he’s not a good guy. Like, how anyone can kiss you and not want to keep kissing you for the rest of his life is absolute beyond me but he did. That guy isn’t healthy, you know that. He kissed you, disappeared, and now suddenly he’s ‘available’? It’s a game to him, chasing you, and you cannot play it.”
Blaine exhales slowly, trying to steady himself. “I know it’s… probably nothing. But…”, he sighs, “I really liked him and he’s so pretty and so funny and we connected that night, you know, I didn’t imagine that! And I… I can’t help feeling like maybe—just maybe—things could work out if we actually talk, see each other in person. Be honest with each other. Maybe he’s changed?”
Sebastian scoffs, shaking his head, eyes rolling up to the ceiling. “Changed? Like Kurt changed when he kicked you out of your apartment after you broke up for the second time? Don’t you remember how that was how you ended up here with me in the first place?” He sits up to fully face his friend. “Kurt didn’t treat you like you deserved. Didn’t call when he said he would, didn’t care when it mattered. You can’t try again with this type of person and expect to not be heartbroken again, not you, Blaine. You deserve someone who actually shows up —someone you can count on. Not someone who plays vanish-and-appear for their own convenience.”
The air between them suddenly feels heavier, more serious than before and Sebastian hates it.
He watches Blaine bite his lip, torn between hope and reality, and something in him aches. The boy wants to cling to a fantasy, and Sebastian just wants to shake him, to demand he see the truth, to protect him from disappointment. However, he knows Blaine is his own person who makes his own choices—even if… well. Even if he doesn’t approve.
He reaches over, almost casually, flicking Blaine’s forehead with a finger, a small smirk tugging at his lips. The gesture is playful, his tone light in order to get rid of some of the obvious tension in the room. “You’re too forgiving,” he smiles indulgendly, “too hopeful. Don’t waste your heart on someone who can’t see what’s in front of them.”
And there it is—the truth he can’t quite say out loud, wrapped in smoke and distractions, phrased like it isn’t what he wants to tell his own stupid heart every time he looks at Blaine.
Blaine chuckles, completely unaware. “I guess I’m just a sucker for a good love story, you know?” He sighs. “Like, I still remember when I saw him for the first time a few years ago. How I… how I thought that he was exactly the kind of guy I was looking for, how cute he was with the little glasses and his hoodie, how electric it felt when he sat next to me and our arms brushed. And then, I didn’t see him for years and I kind of forgot and suddenly, he’s there and we’re both single and we talk and talk and talk and it just felt… right.”
Blaine’s lips quirk in a half-smile, and Sebastian feels that small pang of something sharper in his chest—desire, frustration, protectiveness, all tangled together. But words can be dangerous. So instead he nudges him lightly, trying to keep the moment light.
“Trust me,” he says, letting a small, teasing smirk slip. “John’s not the guy for you. Cute little glasses or not.”
The other boy sighs again and runs a hand through his hair. “I know.” He smiles at Sebastian, a bit embarrassed. “I just got lost in the idea of us for a moment, I think.”
They are both quiet for a few moments, just looking at each other. Sebastian feels his heartbeat quicken the longer Blaine smiles at him, feels words forming on the tip of his tongue that shouldn’t be said. He needs to do something, create some space between them before the intimacy of being huddled together on top of Blaine’s bed, only a few inches away from each other becomes to much.
Almost explosively, Sebastian jumps up from the bed.
“You know what?” he says, voice alight, eyes sparkling. “No more sitting here with phones glued to our hands. We’re going out. Right now. No screens, no distractions. We walk, we clear our heads… then we come back, cook something delicious, and watch ‘Gossip Girl’ so you can undress Nate Archibald with your eyes!”
Blaine blinks, caught off guard. “Out…?”
“Yes!” Sebastian practically vibrates with excitement, tugging at Blaine’s sleeve. “Out. Fresh air. Movement. The city. Anything to shake off all the…”, he hesitates, “well, shake off everything in your head. Come on!”
Blaine hesitates, glancing back at the phone in his hands like it might argue back for him. Then, with a resigned sigh, he mutters, “Fine. But just… okay, fine.”
Sebastian grins and swoops in, extending a hand. Blaine allows himself to be pulled up— maybe a little too willingly, or maybe Sebastian just underestimates how much force he’s putting into it, because Blaine collides squarely with his chest. Sebastian freezes, breath catching, heart hammering wildly. Blaine, though, just laughs, oblivious as ever, and steps back. Still chuckling he claps his hands: “Let’s go then.”
“Right! Let’s go!” Sebastian breathes, his pulse still thumping too fast in his ear. They leave the apartment, moving quickly through the city streets. Sebastian’s tries his best to distract them with silly things, the tiniest details, as he drags Blaine along with playful persistence. Every step, every laugh, every glance at Blaine’s unconsciously delighted expression, though, makes his chest tighten in a way that is both thrilling and terrifying.
When they finally return, Blaine collapses onto the couch, still laughing, still glowing, John apparently forgotton for now. Sebastian follows, his eyes catching a curl on Blaine’s forehead that’s out of place and in a completely unconscious decision, he reaches over to tug it back where it belongs. Blaine’s hair is soft and shiny and Sebastian wants to run his fingers through it but that would be too much. It’s already almost too much.
He feels like he’s balancing on the edge of something enormous, something dangerous, and completely irresistible. Blaine is blissfully unaware, simply grabs the TV remote and starts the show. Sebastian lets himself grin, leaning back next to him, trying to focus on Gossip Girl but utterly failing.
Every laugh from Blaine is sending sparks through him and dares to glance to his left where Blaine occasionally mutters comments about Chuck’s scarf or Blair’s resting bitch face. His phone lays on the kitchen counter, dark and forgotten, fantasies about John traded for a Nate in a schoolboy uniform and maybe for the moment, that has to be enough.