A/N: I just pulled off a four day turnaround for an update. If you guys know me, you know this is usually practically impossible, like woah. Pats self on the back. Achievement. Anyway.
I liked this part. This part was fun.
And I just wanna say a gigantic THANK YOU to intergalacticafro on Tumblr, who is my new beta and is totally amazing. Enjoy.
I Wish You Would
"You think you aren't gonna fall for him.
"You think that you can just ignore your feelings, and they'll just go away.
"But then you spend more time around him, and you—look at him one day, and you just—can't help yourself.
"It happens all at once. Kurt makes you fall in love with him, even when you don't want him to."
"If you're telling me this because you think I'm attracted to your whiny, effeminate bitch of a boyfriend, then you have a serious case of alcohol poisoning."
"I'm not poisoned. I know what I'm talking about.
"I love him. I love him so much, and I can't lose him, I won't lose him to you."
"Fine. You can have Kurt all to yourself. Keep him. Please."
Each time Sebastian replayed that one conversation with Blaine over in his head, from about a month or so before, he just got more and more irritated.
As if it were really that simple. As if one just simply "fell in love" with someone just by "looking at them one day." It was stupid. Blaine was stupid.
Late Sunday night, Sebastian was heading back to the dorm after a round of a crappy sex at a Friend's apartment. As he dug around in his pockets, in the drizzling rain, outside the of building, he realized, just as Kurt had the day before, that he'd left his keys in his dorm room before he left. He sighed.
He knew that Kurt would still be awake, but they still hadn't exchanged phone numbers for easy contact. ("I'm not asking for yours first," Sebastian had said. "Fine, I guess you're never going to have it," Kurt had replied.)
Since it was a crisis however, and since Sebastian was freezing, waiting outside the door, he texted Blaine.
I need Kurt's number.
And Blaine, given the time of night it was, asked why he should let him have it.
Sebastian promptly rolled his eyes.
Because I'm booty calling him. Damn, you caught me red handed. It's late, I'm horny, and I'm asking you, his boyfriend, to give me his number, so I can get a taste of that sweet, tight ass, and tell him my fantasies of fucking him senseless into my mattress.
And Seb got a feisty answer that he wasn't really expecting.
Fuck you. That isn't funny.
Touchy, much? Sebastian chuckled.
Are you dense? If I was going to sext Kurt, or even touch him for that matter, I'd do it behind your back. And I'd be prepared. I'd already have his number. But I have no interest in that. Relax a little.
When he got no answer to this, he stopped messing with Blaine and got to the point.
I'm locked out of the room, Sebastian explained. I need him to open the door for me. But since this is taking too long, and since nothing is ever simple with you, Blaine, I'll just call my RA.
Sebastian had the RA's number dialed and ready, but right before he pressed send, he received Kurt's contact card from Blaine in his inbox.
And another irritable text.
Sorry. I just really don't think things like that are funny. Especially when they come from you.
Sebastian ignored him and sent a text to Kurt's phone instead.
It was really just too easy to trick Blaine into thinking that what he'd said was true: that Sebastian really was pining after Kurt, and that when he least expected it, he was going to fall for Kurt, "irreversibly," "forever."
Joking about it in this harsh way may have been Sebastian's way of convincing himself that it wasn't true, too. Because he could send Blaine "fake" vulgar texts all he wanted, but the idea of them all had to come from somewhere. Sebastian did want Kurt now, physically, and emotionally, and despite his resistance, the consequences of that were already unraveling.
Let me in.
Kurt squinted at the unknown sender of the new message in his inbox. He glanced away from his dresser mirror, from the reflection of his lotion-covered face, and looked across the room at Sebastian's empty bed. He'd been gone for hours. His room keys were neatly piled atop his pillow.
Sebastian? Kurt texted back.
Glad to see you recognize my tone of type, was the answer.
Kurt rolled his eyes.
Only you would send something as vague and demanding as 'let me in' and expect me to understand it. You left your keys here. Where are you?
Outside the front door.
Well, I hate to do this to you , but I'm in the middle of a moisturizing routine. I'm afraid I simply can't part myself from the mirror long enough to walk downstairs and open the door. Sorry ;)
This is payback for yesterday, isn't it.
You know me so well.
Taylor the douchebag frat boy RA's going to hate me for waking him at this hour.
All the more reason to do it, right?
Within a couple of minutes, Sebastian was back. Taylor was unlocking the door for him, staring in the room half asleep and pissed off.
"Just so you know, I'm writing you up in the fucking lockout log for this," Taylor told Sebastian crossly.
"Don't care," Sebastian answered.
"And Kurt," Taylor called snappily. Kurt gave him the side eye accordingly. "You know that gay little door decorating contest you wanted to get your fashion-savvy hands on? It starts Tuesday. Have a nice fucking night."
The door slammed, and Kurt and Sebastian looked at each other and laughed.
They climbed into their beds to sleep not long after; Kurt on his side, facing his wall, and Sebastian on his side, facing Kurt's back. Sebastian watched Kurt as he breathed, and, just to spite Blaine in his mind, he thought about Kurt. In that kind of way. Intentionally.
He thought about what he might do to that pretty boy, regardless of Blaine's presence or not. Lay him down on the bed, shuck him out of those layers, mouth his neck until he groaned and bucked into him. Kurt was probably sensitive as a sex partner. That thin, pale skin was probably soft and receptive, hyperaware to sexual stimulus, the kind that marked and bruised with ease, the kind with several spots that made him whine after just one bite to them. Kurt probably blushed all over, from his chest down, his body a clear example as to how physically satisfied his partner was making him, as to how each kiss and each grind and each thrust affected him in ways that he, naturally, couldn't control. Kurt would probably tell Sebastian things in his ear as he fucked him, sweet, soft, pained, whispered things, that showed how much he needed it, needed what Sebastian's cock could give him if he'd ever let him.
But Seb's thoughts there in his bed, the ones that had him half-groaning from the back of his throat, were cut into, abruptly, by his harsh touch with reality. Kurt wasn't an eligible partner. That's just the way things were. Kurt was a bug from his past, his former Enemy from McKinley High, in Lima, Ohio, with a mediocre high school sweetheart of a boyfriend, a knack for all things 'flaming,' and a voice that was piercing and high-pitched and migraine-inducing. Kurt was taken, and annoying, and sweetly passive, and upright, and really into tight clothes that teased, but would never deliver.
The idea of Sebastian ever sleeping with Kurt was a joke. Sebastian would be rejected if he ever tried, even if Blaine was out of the picture, and fast. His high and mighty pride would get torn down. Never would Sebastian wrap his arms around Kurt's waist, trail his hands up his back, tug on the back of his hair, kiss the open flesh of his neck. Never would he corner Kurt's body up against a wall, get him to shut up already by forcing that pretty mouth shut with a rough kiss, get him to make the noises Seb wanted to hear by yanking those second-skin pants down, taking him into his mouth, sucking him, proving him wrong, and finally winning. Finally winning and beating Kurt at their pent up rivalry. Putting a meaning behind all of his words with action.
But reality was right. And thoughts like these were why he would later remind himself to never do this to himself again.
Sebastian shuddered a bit.
It was like he'd just woken up from a dream, and all of a sudden, he was frustrated. Disappointed in himself. Angry, at his stupid hormones. He'd taken it too far. He felt himself getting half-hard between his own legs, with thoughts of Kurt naked, and he had to lie there on his back and actively fight the urge to let his hand slip beneath his sweatpants, to let his hand get him off in less than two minutes while thinking of Kurt Hummel.
He seriously hated himself.
He wasn't winning the game of 'let's-pretend-that-we-don't-like-each-other.' He was the biggest fucking loser that had ever stepped up to Kurt's plate. And lately he'd been getting dangerously close to crossing over from 'I like looking at Kurt' to 'I jack myself off to Kurt at night.'
If it were any other boy, best believe Sebastian would go right ahead.
But Kurt, unfortunately, had the power to hurt Sebastian's feelings.
Kurt had unfair advantages to this game. He always had, ever since they'd wound up as roommates. He still had that boyfriend to focus on. He also had better control of himself, sexually (and Sebastian figured it was because his sex life with Bland was so marital and boring).
Sebastian turned over to his other side quickly. He blocked out the sound of Kurt breathing gently across the way. He thought about dead puppies, his parents' sex life, jizz on the pages of the Bible. Anything.
Anything to get rid of his stubborn little hard on. His stubborn fixation on Kurt.
And as he tried to get himself to drift off to sleep, he realized that he couldn't let this happen again.
He wouldn't let Blaine be right about this.
For the third time in a week, Kurt had a dream about cheating on Blaine.
It was always unexpected, in the dreams. It was always vague. Kurt would be doing something relatively normal at first, at a party with acquaintances, or alone in his house. Then all of a sudden he'd find himself stumbling into bed in some strange room, sleeping with someone whose face he couldn't see, letting their legs wrap around him, their hands grip into his back.
Kurt woke up confused the first time, and slightly sick to his stomach. He simply deemed it a sparse nightmare, hoping it didn't happen again. He loved Blaine. He'd never do anything to hurt Blaine. He told himself not to feel bad or responsible for the wandering tangent of his mind, because clearly, it hadn't come from the heart.
But the second and third times the dream happened, he felt—well, guilty. And foreign. He didn't, in his waking moments, ever think about cheating on Blaine. He'd never wanted that. So what was this about?
And the fact that the self in his dreams was okay with falling into bed with random strangers several times a day was slightly off-putting too. He wasn't that kind of person. He told himself that the dreams didn't mean a thing.
It was the last few days of school before Thanksgiving break. Kurt was planning on going home to see his family on Wednesday night, and so was Sebastian.
Kurt's Dior rug was clean and laying out across the floor once again, positioned equally between both of their beds. On that dark and stormy Tuesday, Sebastian was sitting at his desk studying for his last test before the holiday, when Kurt came in, raincoat and boots wet, umbrella trailing water across the floor.
Kurt settled in, unpacked his books from class, and stripped himself of his outer waterproof layers. Sebastian watched from his side of the room out of the corner of his eye, noting Kurt's tight, white shirt and even tighter, black denim jeans that hugged his beautiful legs. He sighed hatefully under his breath. Kurt was exhausting to look at.
For the first time in a while, Sebastian remembered what it was like to insult Kurt whenever he felt this feeling creeping up on him. But he refrained himself now.
Kurt, unaware of Sebastian's stare, was walking over to his calendar then, and writing AUDITION in big, red cursive on the December 10th block of his calendar.
After he wrote it, he realized that Sebastian was looking at him. And just like usual whenever Sebastian got caught, his resolve faded fast. He felt warm and he just wanted to be nice, and make conversation; he just wanted to do anything to keep those sweet eyes on him, engaged with him.
"What's the audition for?" Sebastian asked quickly.
Kurt capped the pen in his hands. "It's for my major classes," he replied. "For Theater. I have to audition three times that day. Twice for Voice, once for Piano. I know that I'm going to sing 'Don't Cry For Me Argentina' for the first vocal piece, and I'm not sure about the second. And the piano piece has to be at least two minutes long, and I'm—really rusty."
Sebastian nodded. "Better practice then."
Kurt just sighed.
He went and sat down in his desk, adjacent to Sebastian's. He'd been having an all right day, until he'd gone to the Theater office and received his official audition date. At the moment he was just really, really looking forward to just going home and relaxing. He was going to get to spend several long and lovely days with his family during Thanksgiving break, as well as his old friends from glee who were going to be back in town, and Blaine too, since they'd both be off of school.
"What are you working on?" Kurt asked Sebastian absently.
"Intro to Business exam," Sebastian answered. "Piece of cake."
"Must be nice."
Sebastian eyed him.
"Is that audition why you're in such a whiny, 'woe-is-me' mood today?"
Kurt rolled his eyes. "Shut up," he said. "And no. Not really."
He stood up from his desk again and pulled a brown, leather suitcase, half full of clothes he was taking home, from under his bed. He began to put other things inside of it as well—accessories, his sewing kit, and his knitting needles.
"I guess it's—part of it is because I had a bad dream last night," Kurt resumed, faintly. "But it's not a big deal."
"Did Lady Gaga retire in it?"
Kurt let himself laugh a little. "Blaspheme, Sebastian. Don't ever say such things."
It was quiet for a moment, and then Sebastian stood up. He came and sat down on the Dior rug, across from Kurt, who was sorting through his suitcase pointlessly. Seb stared at Kurt with his striking hazel eyes, and Kurt glanced up into them, getting caught up for a moment. He realized how much more comfortable he'd become with Sebastian since they started out—as comfortable as the two of them could get without strangling each other verbally. He faintly smiled, though he'd always feel a little bit on edge whenever Sebastian was this close. Frustratingly attractive as he was. He took notice of the fact that Sebastian seemed not to have shaved in a few days, and he didn't know where to compartmentalize that in his head—he just knew that it was maybe a little—sexy.
Ugh, god, that was the wrong word.
"What?" Kurt said, because Sebastian still hadn't said anything.
"Tell me what your bad dream was about," Sebastian ordered plainly.
Kurt frowned a little. "You can't tell me what to do."
"Obviously you want someone to bitch to about it, or you wouldn't have brought it up. I'd rather hear you talk about it than listen to you miserably sigh and huff and puff all afternoon like a girl who just got dumped. So. Tell me."
"I don't know, it's just—I keep having dreams that I'm—cheating," Kurt admitted, nervously.
Sebastian tensed up.
"With who?" he demanded.
"No one. No one I can see," Kurt explained, softly. "It's—weird. I don't want to cheat on him. On Blaine. I'll never do that to him. It just—bugs me that it keeps coming to mind every night, that's all."
Sebastian made a mental note of this. A bigger one that he probably should've.
"Maybe you don't love him anymore," Sebastian offered.
"That's silly. I'll always love him," he said. "And besides, the fear of losing someone just means that you love them. I guess that's all my dream really meant."
Sebastian shrugged and rolled his eyes.
"If you say so."
Kurt raised a brow.
"You're not a very good person to tell things to," he said.
"I just—don't understand why you like him," Sebastian groaned. "He's so cryptic. Especially lately."
"Cryptic," Kurt repeated curiously.
"And paranoid," Sebastian said. "Can't get him to get off my back whenever I so much as mention that I still live with you. He comes off as a crazy stalker-boyfriend."
"He's just—protective," Kurt excused lightly.
Sebastian shook his head and sighed. And then slowly, he said,
"He told me that he thinks I'm in love with you."
Kurt's eyes went wide, and his cheeks flushed red.
"I mean, he thinks I'm going to love you," Sebastian corrected himself sternly, and now he had to take his eyes away from Kurt's brighter, startled ones. They were making him nervous, their swells of lovely, icy color melting holes into his sanity. How were those things even allowed?
"Basically told me that it was my fate. That I was bound to fall in love with you the longer I looked at you. He's an idiot."
Kurt didn't know how to register that.
One the one hand, he simply wanted to attribute it to Blaine's nervousness—he knew that Blaine was concerned about he and Sebastian living with each other. It was normal, Kurt thought. Kurt was living with a gay guy, one who was thought of as promiscuous. It was just normal jealousy. But for Blaine to tell Sebastian that he was going to catch feelings for Kurt, as if it were an inevitability—well it was almost like Blaine wanted Sebastian to have a one-sided crush on Kurt. In a weird, twisted way.
And on another hand entirely, the idea of someone being bound to fall in love with him, the longer they looked at him, sounded just a tiny bit—romantic. And Kurt really was a hopeless romantic.
But he was a hopeless romantic for Blaine, and Blaine only.
He felt a knot tie in his stomach.
"Why would he say something like that?" Kurt said, more to himself. He sounded bothered.
"I seriously don't know."
He was nervous.
Kurt worried his lip between his teeth thoughtfully, looking as though he were trying to imagine that. Trying to imagine Sebastian loving him. Sebastian loving anybody for that matter.
Even if Kurt and Sebastian managed to stay friends after these two semesters, he didn't think that love was ever going to be a possibility. Not by any stretch of the word.
"It's stupid," Sebastian snapped suddenly. "It's never going to happen."
"No." Kurt quipped. "No, no, no. Of course not."
He forced himself to laugh. Sebastian didn't laugh back with him.
"I'm sorry, but—when was it, that he said this to you?" he prodded further.
"A month ago. One of the nights when he was drunk and you brought him back here to throw up all over you. Plenteous as those nights are." Sebastian exhaled, and then he snapped again, "Look, Kurt, just drop it. I don't want to talk about it, and clearly neither do you."
Sebastian got up and started walking around the room.
Kurt stared after him, still confused as to how to feel.
Sebastian was so weird. How did he have friends? Did he have any friends, besides Kurt, now?
"We're two of the least compatible people to ever be paired in the same unfortunate space, anyway," Sebastian further reasoned.
Kurt paused for a moment. He grabbed onto one of the shirts in his suitcase, refolding it, trying to keep his hands busy.
"Right," he agreed, suitably.
Sebastian hated the silence that fell.
"We'd probably just, I don't know…break up a day after we got together," Kurt expressed, still trying to make a joke out of this. "Because you'd say something stupid, and I'd yell at you. And go back to hating you."
"It'd never work," Sebastian added, tensely. "That's why I told him that he's an idiot."
Sebastian broke it, sitting back down at his desk.
"I have a question for you." He was changing the subject. "Since you're so stressed out about this Theater bullshit all the time," Sebastian continued talking. "Why haven't you ever considered becoming a fashion designer?"
Kurt made a face.
"Um," he said, continuing to add things from under his bed to his suitcase. He chuckled a little. "Where's that coming from?"
"The fact that you own ten hundred issues of Vogue, and they're in your hands right now, for one thing."
Kurt looked down at the stack of favorite magazines in his hands, the ones he was about to pack for home, dated from 2009 to the current year.
"Oh. Well, I—I have," Kurt said. "Thought of it. I mean, as fashion-forward as I am." He smiled a little, proudly.
"It suits you much more than wearing tights on a rundown stage, singing Streisand," Sebastian said. "And, no offense, but you're not even a good singer."
Kurt frowned again.
"Gee, thanks. Asshole."
Sebastian turned to look at him.
"Why say 'no offense' if you know it's going to offend me?" Kurt added.
"It's fine," Sebastian said. "Everyone has their strengths, and that's not yours."
"You've never even heard me really sing," Kurt defended himself.
"I didn't say that to piss you off," Sebastian said.
"Well, that's a first."
Sebastian paused for a moment.
"I said it because—well, you plan outfits in your spare time," he resumed after a bit. "You plan my outfits. You plan outfits for people you've never even met. You have more designer clothes than anybody I know, and trust me, I've met more Richie bitches in my lifetime than anyone would ever want to meet. You even—make your own clothes already."
God, shut up about him, Sebastian barked at himself in his head.
"You're good at that shit. It's something you genuinely like. So, don't they have any majors for fashion design at this school or something?"
Kurt gazed at Sebastian. It seemed simple, when he put that way.
…Fashion had always been Kurt's other passion. But it was too late for trying to invest in it as a career, anyway, by being in New York or going to a fashion institute. Now Kurt was stuck at Ohio State. And he'd been told that he was already behind.
"No, um, not really," he said. "I mean, they have a few textiles and sewing classes here, but that's about it. I'm a Theater major. That's what I'm here to do."
"I loved playing Lacrosse in high school, and I'm good at many other sports, but I had no intention on being athletic as a career," Sebastian noted. "There's a difference between hobbies and a profession, Kurt. Between things you like and things you love."
Was that—advice? Maybe Sebastian wasn't a completely awful person to tell things to after all. But still.
"You don't get it, I—have to become a singer," Kurt argued. "Even if it's not on Broadway, like I've always dreamed, it's—it's what the New Directions would've wanted from me. It's what I spent my high school career doing, with them. I have to make them proud."
"Them?" Sebastian repeated.
Kurt huffed. "What are you trying to say?"
"Saying you should be more selfish," Sebastian replied. "Do what you want to do."
"Well—thank you, for expressing concern," Kurt said. "I am stressed out about all of this, but I'm not just going to give up on Theater. It may be difficult, but I'm a Hummel—I know I can do this."
There was a knock on their door, then.
A small, white piece of cardstock got slipped under the door. Kurt stood up to retrieve it, and he brightened, squealed, and grinned as he read what was written on it.
The RHA Thanksgiving Door Decorating contest starts NOW.
You and 11 other residents have 24 hours to create a dazzling display on the door of your dorm room that expresses the spirit of the holiday season.
You will be judged on (1) Color, (2) Use of Space and (3) Interactive Component.
Winners will receive $100 off their board next semester! And, more importantly, bragging rights!
Good luck to you! Let the decorating begin!
"What's that for?" Sebastian said.
Kurt was already stooping down and reaching under his bed when Sebastian spoke; he pulled out a long, flat box, full of craft materials and pieces, as well as a drawing board full of autumn-themed sketches and concept art.
"Thanksgiving Door Decorating contest," Kurt informed Seb. "I'm so excited. I've been planning for this since October."
Sebastian watched in amusement as Kurt began to manically pull things from the box, laying out the door designs that he'd already pre-made. A blue sky background, giant clouds made of glittery cotton balls, a six foot strip of cardboard tree with 3D branches, and tissue paper sheets of red, orange, and rust, for leaves. The board of concept art was elaborate, and Kurt had an overall theme: Happy Thanksgiving – What do you wish for?
Sebastian wondered when Kurt had even had time to create all of that. He'd certainly never seen it 'til now.
"I think my day may've just vastly improved," Kurt said to himself, smiling contentedly, getting to work right away.
And this was what Sebastian had been talking about.
It was blatantly obvious, after living with Kurt for just two months, that this was what Kurt's love was. This was his gift. Designing. Creating. Using his hands to make the pretty things in his mind, whether they be clothing or room décor, come to life. It was impressive, really. Sebastian had always slightly thought that it was, although he never would've admitted it until today. Yes, Kurt constantly forcing him to change clothes ten times a day was obnoxious most of the time, but it was also kind of—endearing? It was just so Kurt.
As Sebastian moved around Kurt's elaborate set up on the floor, getting ready to go to class, he watched as his roommate clipped with scissors, attached with glue, sprinkled with glitter.
He watched him and smiled and couldn't help but think,
You're adorable, Kurt.
And again, he hated himself for finding something so seemingly simple about this boy so entrancing.
When Sebastian got back from class, Kurt was still hard at work. He had measuring tape wrapped around his neck like a scarf, sprinkles of paper were scattered around him like snow, and he was in the middle of making beautiful paper mache leaves and sticking them to the branches of his cardboard tree.
"How's that going?"
Kurt looked up at Seb. He had a glob of tacky glue on the tip of his nose.
"Amazing," Kurt quipped. "I haven't put anything up on the door yet, but in a few hours I can start with the first few layers."
Sebastian sat down on his bed.
"Need any help?"
"Yeah, actually, if you wanna help, that'd be—incredible."
Sebastian smirked back at him.
"That was one of those 'I feel obligated to ask' questions, Kurt," he said. "As in, 'I don't actually want to help you,' I was just trying not to seem like a dick."
Kurt groaned playfully. "Well, you failed at that," he said.
Regardless, Sebastian stooped down to Kurt's level on the floor, and settled himself on the rug.
"Shut up," he said. "What do you want me to do?—that doesn't require me to be covered in all that 'fabulous' glitter, like you are right now."
And so they sat in the middle of their floor for what ended up being hours, and Sebastian didn't even realize that that much time had passed. They cut dozens of intricately shaped leaves from tissue paper, drew hand-traced turkeys and painted them, glued clouds to the backdrop. Sebastian was a pretty shitty artist, so Kurt took care of most of the fancy particulars, while Seb was reduced to "small" jobs like cutting and pasting.
At one point, while Kurt was telling a story that Sebastian was completely bored with, Sebastian took a moment to lean in and wipe the spot of glue from Kurt's nose with his thumb.
Kurt paused mid sentence and stared at Sebastian blankly.
And if he was a little bit flustered by the gesture, he tried to pay it no attention.
After all of the background layers for the door were done, Kurt and Sebastian ventured out of their dorm building, huddled together under Kurt's umbrella, and went to the girls' and upperclassmen's halls to scope out the eleven other doors, Kurt's competition. Many of the competitors had already started posting things to the door, and their designs were intense. It was all slightly intimidating to Kurt at first—especially the girl with the cut-out pilgrim who could shake your hand—but seeing the other doors just edged Kurt on by the time they headed back. He really wanted to win.
"The 'interactive portion' of my door is the little wishbones," Kurt was explaining to Sebastian at one point, once they were back in the room. He held up his Ziploc bag full of white, cardstock wishbones, blank on both sides. "The idea is for people to take one, write down a wish, and then hang it from one of the branches on the tree. That's the whole point of the theme."
Later that night, one of the final touches on Kurt's fully decorated door was the envelope above the doorknob, full of the blank wishbones. The following morning, the Resident Hall Association was going to announce on their Facebook page which rooms on campus were competing in the interactive portion of the judging, and that was when, hopefully, Kurt would get people to start posting their wishes.
But by eleven 'clock the next morning, he still didn't have a one. It was because they were the only room in the boys' hall to participate, Sebastian figured. The girls hall had more residents who were actually interested in this shit. On his way to his last class of the day, Seb had passed two boys in the hall who were making fun of Kurt's door design, and it took everything in Sebastian not to get offended, and defensive.
When he got back from class, Kurt wasn't around (he'd said earlier that he was going to hide out in the library during judging, so as not to psyche himself out), so Sebastian spent a decent amount of time sitting cross-legged in front of the door, several wishbones on his lap and pen writing various messages on them, in varying handwriting. (To throw Kurt off)
Sebastian's first wishbone said, "I wish I was getting some ass tonight." He tied it up on a branch with a silvery string, smiling at it. He decided he wouldn't be quite as crude for the others. The rest said things like, "I wish I had five bucks," "I wish my dad was around more often," "I wish for world peace," and "I wish I could give every homeless person a turkey dinner."
And the last one he put up, in big, black, bold letters, said, "I wish I had you," with a heart at the end.
Sebastian gazed one last time at the door before heading inside. It was covered from top to bottom in glittery blue sky, protruding trees, and hundreds of red leaves. Kurt had drawn the title of the work in large, fancy handwriting near the peephole, and all the little smiling turkeys that they'd drawn (or, well, the ones that Sebastian hadn't fucked up) were "running around" on the ground.
Over the course of the day, Kaylee and Dianna and several other girls came around to the door, but by the end of the afternoon, close to all of the little wishbones dangling from the tree branches were written by Seb. There were more than thirty of them.
At two or so, once the judges had come and gone and the "contest" was over, Kurt came back to the room, joining Sebastian inside.
"They're going to knock on the door of the person who won," Kurt informed Seb excitably. "I'm so glad the wishbone thing caught on."
Sebastian decided not to reveal himself.
And like clockwork, there were three knocks on the door just then. Kurt ran to open it, excited, with Sebastian standing a few feet away, and when he found the RHA judges on the other side, he succumbed to a fit of joy.
They give him a certificate, a voucher for $100 from the school, and when Kurt closed the door again, he was suddenly hugging Sebastian.
Sebastian froze up. Kurt had never just embraced him before. And wow was Kurt's body pressed up against his making his head seriously swim. But he didn't stay rigid against Kurt for long. He melted a little into the hug, let his chin rest against Kurt's soft hair, held onto Kurt tighter than he should've, wrapped his hands around Kurt's lower back, let his hands just barely palm Kurt's hips. It almost felt—intimate. And his heart started drumming so hard that he could feel it in his head.
Kurt pulled back after a moment, untangling their arms, letting Seb's hands leave his waist. The seconds of their touch had felt like minutes to Sebastian. He stared down at Kurt and looked very much flustered by his quick, assuming, warm invasion of personal space, his lips slightly aprted and his breath fainter-but Kurt didn't even seem to notice.
"Thank you for helping me so much yesterday," Kurt said, happily. "Even though I know you didn't want to. And even though it didn't really matter."
Sebastian just swallowed and nodded.
"I know it was just a silly contest, but— things like this make me feel really good about myself," Kurt added.
Sebastian forced a nonchalant smile onto his face.
"Um, no, it's fine." He looked down. "I have to go to class."
He grabbed his things and was out the door just seconds later.
I don't know about you, but the last class of the day today has been dragging on. I'm so ready to go home.
Kurt had an hour left of his Literature class before he was free. After getting lost in his own thoughts for a while during the lecture, thinking about how glad he was that he'd more than halfway survived his first college semester, he sent a text to Seb to ease his boredom.
I felt the same an hour ago, Sebastian answered him back, from their room. I take it you're not paying attention.
Yes. I'm very bored. I'm shopping online on my laptop, actually.
Tisk tisk, Kurt.
Swarovski's new holiday collection just came out on their website. You don't understand, I just had to start looking now.
Sebastian lay on his back on his bed in the room, slightly nervous as he texted Kurt.
He usually wasn't one to "hide behind" messages, or mask his motives with them. He was typically very blunt with his advances, only using the phone to initiate a happening in real life. But with Kurt, it was different. With Kurt it had always been different.
He wanted to tell Kurt at least a part of what he felt about him. The physical part, only.
Given how nice things had been between them the last few days, and given that Kurt was having dreams about leaving his boyfriend for Christ's sake, Sebastian had a feeling that Kurt was a bit more vulnerable than usual. He wouldn't be offended by Sebastian taking a stab in the not-so-dark, by Seb trying to find out if Kurt was attracted to him too. They almost always were attracted to him—Kurt might be no exception. And then the playing field between them would be equal.
Well, besides the fact that Kurt was taken. But no matter.
It was going to be a risk for Seb to try this, and he was going to have to put himself out on a limb, but it was a risk he was willing to take, or so he thought. Still, the building up to it made him nervous. His forward advances had worked on many a man in the past, but this one was a special case.
I was just thinking, Sebastian continued, to Kurt. You knit, don't you? You should make me something. While you're at home this weekend.
Um, no, Kurt responded.
What would you even want me to make you?
I don't know. A scarf or a sweater or some shit.
Why would I do that? I only make things for people that I like.
You like me.
And besides. I want a Kurt Hummel original.
I don't know if you've earned your way up my friendship ranks enough for me to knit you an entire scarf, Sebastian. But you can keep trying. You're on your way.
I'm sure you could knit a scarf in a day. These things don't take you long. You made that Red Riding Hood costume pretty quickly too.
You mean the Halloween costume? That you made fun of endlessly?
It looked gorgeous on you, Kurt.
Kurt stared at his phone with wide eyes. In shock.
And, well, Sebastian thought. There was no turning back now.
Don't let that go to your head either, princess, Sebastian tacked on, quick. I'm just being honest.
Kurt felt a bit scrambled; heat was beginning to prick at his cheeks and his neck. He glanced around the classroom, hoping his reaction to Sebastian's words hadn't been too noticeable. He slunk down a little bit lower in his seat.
He re-read the straightforward words in his inbox again.
You really think that I looked hot? he texted back in disbelief.
Sebastian exhaled deeply. He got a reply. A question. Which meant that Kurt was curious. He'd gotten a hook in. Nervously, his heart pounding, he typed back,
And he sent another, even riskier.
Kurt was blushing all over now.
You're just messing with me, Kurt insisted. You told me I looked like an embarrassing excuse for a jester.
It was your body, Sebastian texted back, anyway. You may wear rags that look like they were dragged from the Victorian era most days, but you have a very nice body, Kurt. That outfit of yours showed you off, and well. I was drunk that night, but I remember.
You were wearing those long, tight, red pants. Didn't even look like your pretty legs could breathe in them. You were hardly wearing a shirt. And you had that damn little corset on, too. You can't possibly blame me. Any gay man with eyes would've wanted to stare at you, and do much more. It was just what you had on, how it looked. Even if they didn't know that you're annoying, once you open that mouth.
This wasn't happening. This. Wasn't. Happening.
Sebastian was just being Sebastian. This, being hitting on by him in some kind of backwards way, was bound to happen to Kurt eventually. It happened to every boy Sebastian ever met.
But like I said. Don't let it go to your head. It's just a compliment. Nothing more.
Don't let it go to your head, he'd said.
He didn't mean it.
Kurt was sitting there reduced to an embarrassed mess, his face red, his eyes locked onto the messages in his inbox. Was he…supposed to say thank you? Or was he supposed to be insulted?
And he knew for a fact that he couldn't just let Sebastian talk to him like this while he had Blaine. Nope. Not okay.
Whichever the case, and whatever his decision would be when he saw Sebastian next, Kurt slipped his phone back into his pocket and tried to regain the little bit of composure that had just spilled out from under him.
Kurt sighed, telling himself to just take the compliment and leave it alone, convincing himself that maybe the confrontation wasn't even worth it, and he just shouldn't bother—but by the time he got out of class, it was fresh on his mind again.
He had to say something. And he would when he got back.
Sebastian, meanwhile, was enjoying one of his routine, afternoon masturbation sessions.
Sweatpants pooled at the ankle, shirt shoved up past his chest, Sebastian lie on his back on his bed, hand dizzily stroking his half-hard erection. After a few minutes of warm up, Sebastian stopped watching himself and instead closed his eyes; he frowned, groaned faintly, and thought vaguely about the last few guys he'd fucked. He was fully hard then, thinking about bodies, jumbles of male anatomy that all started to look the same after a while, and he began to get rough with himself; the dry skin of his hand slightly hurt the faster he rubbed, and he did have lube in his drawer, but in a way he liked going dry when he was solo. It was harsher. It got the job done quicker.
He stopped for a moment to lick his palm, bringing his hand back and jacking himself off rapidly. His body snapped forward and then arched back in response. He tensed all over. This was starting to feel devilishly good. His eyes still shut, Seb saw himself getting fucked doggy style, saw broad, unknown hands scratching marks into his hips, a thick cock dragging and ramming into him hard, shaking him and rattling him, with no sympathy.
Then he imagined that it was Kurt fucking him, that bright, pale skin striking a contrast with his own, and he inhaled sharply, his heel kicking out on the bedspread, his thighs clenching tight, the tension in his muscles pulling him quickly into orgasm.
His hand jerked out of his control, his head tilted back and his chest opened up. His balls tightened and he stroked himself as hard as he could, imagined Kurt's arms pulling him up so that his back was to his chest, biting into his neck while he took him from behind.
And the last thing he pictured before he came, fist bitten into his mouth, was Kurt's eyes, those vivid, vivid eyes.
Sebastian hadn't gotten himself off that well in weeks.
And he'd never felt more like a creep.
As he lay there, spent, catching his breath back, he realized that he'd been reduced to fantasizing and masturbating—about him.
Even just glimpses of the thought of being with Kurt turned him on that much more. It pushed him over the edge. It really got to him. It was official: this was how bad things were now. How much this had escalated.
Pathetic. Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic.
He fantasized about having sex with a boy who had the audacity to not even want him. Not even a little bit. Kurt had ignored the rest of his text messages earlier, about the Red Riding Hood costume. Sebastian just knew that he must've taken them the wrong way. The prude.
Everyone wanted Sebastian, and as such, Sebastian could typically have whoever he wanted. He was the Sebastian Smythe, but this boy, his roommate, his "Friend," was the only one who he couldn't instantly have, couldn't instantly take, and how had he let this happen?
Sebastian wiped the come from his stomach with the back of his dry hand. Quickly, he pulled his boxers and sweatpants back up to his hips, and then he let his head sink back into his cool, itchy pillow.
He stared up at the ceiling, feeling irritated all over.
Many minutes later, he heard the jingling of Kurt's keys, and his stomach turned. He sat up, sat back, and stared at Kurt as he entered the room.
And when Kurt looked at him, unsmiling and nervous, Sebastian knew what kind of conversation this was going to be.
"Um," Kurt started up, loosening the scarf around his long, warm neck. "What was that about? Earlier—your text messages?"
Sebastian gave him his best poker face.
"Nothing," he said flatly.
Kurt paused at this. He sighed long and slow, walking over to his bed, pacing a little in front of it.
"Look, you can't just—text me something like that, and then not be able to talk about it in person with me," Kurt tried to explain.
"I can, and I did," Sebastian countered.
Kurt didn't know why he'd expected this conversation to be easy.
"I'm not—okay, I don't know, whether you meant any of that, or not, or what," Kurt said, his body heating up again. He tried to sound as calm and as reasonable as possible. "And I, appreciate the compliment, I suppose, Sebastian, but—" his voice was stern, "it's not right for you to talk about my—body, like that when I have a boyfriend."
Broken. Freaking. Record.
"And I don't even really—understand," Kurt went on, and now he sounded frustrated; Sebastian just watched him, watched his mouth trying to craft together these perfect little words, these safe, composed little sentences. "You spent months telling me that I'm ugly, and now all of a sudden I'm—attractive? I was attractive to you back then?"
"Get over yourself, Kurt," Sebastian barked. "I wasn't hitting on you."
Kurt actually had the gall to look visibly disappointed at this.
"I'm not hitting on you now," Sebastian snapped, standing up. "I don't want you." He took a moment to breathe, noticing the way that Kurt still wore that faint hint of disappointment, and the way the lovely color was beginning to fill in on his face. Seb smiled, and even if it was still masked by frustration, it was smug and ill-behaved. "Though judging the look on your face, you want me to want you," he told Kurt.
"God, shut up, I don't want you either!"
Kurt had just snapped.
And if Sebastian hadn't been sure about the fact that he had a hook in before, he was sure about it now.
"You're blushing," Sebastian confronted him, staring keenly at Kurt's face, wishing he could touch it.
"I blush at the drop of a hat," he defended.
"You really don't know how to take compliments, do you?" Sebastian prodded, and he began to walk towards Kurt on the other side of the room. "Think that every time a guy so much as tells you you have a nice eyelash, he wants to jump your desperate bones.
"You're being really mean," Kurt spoke, his voice breaking.
"I'm not trying to steal you from your precious Blaine."
He came close enough so that their faces were just inches apart. Kurt's eyes flickered down to Seb's lips, so quick that anyone else would've missed it. But Seb didn't miss it. He chuckled slightly.
"You're flattered," Seb said lowly, his voice dropping to that almost-growl. "You're flattered that I complimented you, that I noticed you, and gave that attention that you strut around asking for. And you're trying to hide it."
Kurt felt offense flare up in his chest, and he opened his mouth to protest, but nothing came out.
"I said you looked hot that night," Sebastian repeated. "Gorgeous, that night. That yeah, maybe I would've fucked, if you weren't you." He drew closer, so close that he was almost touching Kurt's lips with his own. "And you're trying to find the meaning behind it, when there is none."
"Stop it," Kurt breathed. His shut his eyes, but he didn't back away. His lips were parted, and Sebastian wanted them pressed up against his own. "This isn't okay, I have a boyfriend—"
"I'm not doing anything that crosses a boundary with you and your boyfriend." Sebastian came even closer, smiling wickedly and nearly whispering in Kurt's ear: "I'm just being honest with you, telling you what I think." He ghosted his hand over Kurt's forearm. "I'm not even touching you."
Kurt inhaled, and smelled Sebastian's cologne, and felt Sebastian close, and damn, he just needed to get out of there.
"The only way you'd be betraying Blaine is if you wanted me," Sebastian continued in Kurt's ear. "Like I said. Do you?"
"You're being—pompous, and conceited, and stop—" he backed away now, giving Sebastian a harsh, warning glance,"—getting so close to me."
That wasn't a no, but Kurt was suddenly hurrying around the room, grabbing his small suitcase from under his bed, jumbling his car keys and textbooks into his arms.
Walking away. Leaving.
"This is why I've never liked you, Sebastian," Kurt snapped. "Or liked being friends with you. I'm going home. Have a nice break."
Sebastian watched, angrily, as Kurt rejected his advances, once again.
And before Kurt opened the door to let himself out, Seb stood in the same place, and he muttered under his breath,
To which Kurt immediately sputtered,
"I fucking hate you."
Sebastian felt himself shaking with frustration at the echoing sound of Kurt spitting his words, and at the sound of the door slamming shut.
And later, Kurt was driving home, not sure why Sebastian had just picked a fight, not sure why he'd just made him so angry. He didn't understand. He and Sebastian had come so far, it seemed. But now it felt like they were back to square one.
Sebastian was insufferable, and Kurt hated him, and Kurt wondered why he'd ever even bothered making a truce with someone like him. He told himself to stop worrying, stop trying to be his friend, and stop caring.
And to stop mistaking the breathless feeling of Sebastian being so close to him for being turned on.
Hey, Kurt. We need to talk.
It's not bad or anything, but…okay, maybe it is bad.
Blaine felt a little sick to his stomach as he stared at the text messages, drafted in his outbox. Kurt was on his way back to Lima now, for Thanksgiving break, and Blaine should've been happy about this, but for some reason, he was anxious. So anxious that his head hurt, and so did his heart.
His finger hovered over the send button, he almost took the initiative to just tell his boyfriend what was wrong,
But he just erased the message instead.
A/N: Thoughts? ;)