Re-vamped version of "Bed of Fingernails" and…oh my Gosh, I'm so happy right now. This took about two weeks of continuously working on it to lead up to this point. I don't know how to feel about it but I don't want to read it all over again so here it is! the hopefully final version of it. I've worked so damned hard on this. Fuck.


"A body is not a body," brown eyes told her. "A body is a basis for character. You don't realise this but the way you style your hair, the way you make your eyes look like, and even the colour of your lipstick is all about character, personality and trait."

She looked back at him. Green was bursting from those eyes as if a blossoming flower emerged in that instance in those pupils. Her back was turned to him and between her fingers; there was a lit cigarette that was being dragged every few long minutes. The night was sultry and the moon hung far too low, which was strange. The moon only appeared as far too low, but laws of physics told her otherwise. She was the owl of the night, because as the night had come to a standstill silence, she arose, waking. He'd come to realise this about her, but not fully appreciate it. With night came a terror so unimaginable. The air was full of champagne, nicotine and humidity.

She laid her hand on her arm, eyes staring at his own as if they were performing a simple dance. Bastina Angier stared back into Blaine Anderson's eyes – what a strange coincidence, because their initials would always be the same. She wore his watch but if you didn't look closely, you would never know that the watch was a boy's and the boy was a lover and a lover was a friend and a friend was an ally. Bastina had come accustomed to call Blaine her ally by day, lover by night.

"My body is a vessel," she responded, voice low but audible. The night was far too cold for a girl that was wearing far too little layers of clothing. "It is made out of Mother's dreams and her expectations. If it shows any personality, it's definitely hers." She laughed, but the laugh was darker than usual, almost snide, but almost not. Her eyes met with his again and he ran a hand down her hipbone.

"You have the expressions of a feline," Blaine concluded. They spoke so proper within their families, like she hadn't been underneath him, his lips grazing her soft moonlight-kissed cheeks, and lovely sunny hair. He had come to notice her hands were chubby and there was a considerable amount of fat around her middle, slightly corpulent yet too thin to be considered "fat", a little less than chubby but a little more than average. She was always so strange. "Calm, as if just waiting for its next move."

She laughed, but now, the laugh had drifted off into the air. "Is that a bad thing?" she asked.

"Depending," Blaine murmured against her hot flesh. "What's your prey?"

Almost immediately so, her eyes met with his. His hands were around her waist, bringing her closer. Her soft tummy slightly pressing against Blaine's rock-hard figure, as he laid a hand on her shoulder. He brought her just a bit closer, pressing his head into her prominent collarbones as if they were home. In the end, she was home. She was a memory that was not too hazy or unclear. He can remember how his hands fit in every section of her body, yet he'd come to believe that there was something wrong with her body, her fluffy chest and her lacking reproductive organs. He'd longed for length, straightness, structure, but he realised that he could not leave her either. "Do you still dream?"

Her eyebrow arched in question. "Of course I still dream. Does a bird still sing?"

"Remember of the bird in question," Blaine replied back. The banter was formal, but his eyes were glittering with amusement. He had come to love how blonde her hair was, as it flipped through the wind. It was so long and wavy, vivid, reaching towards her perky, round ass. He had enjoyed watching her so, mostly as if just admiring the art, but when it came to hardness, he was never hard, but they'd always talked of sex. Blaine wondered if he'd love her when he'd touched her, and then he wondered that what if he did it but felt no rise, then had he wronged her?

He tried not to focus on that, and that led him to focusing on her nails. He'd always liked how sharp they were, cut articulately, perfectly manicured and shaped, with a very soft nearly translucent pink coating. He had taken her hand into his, just to stare into them. "I love your nails. I've always had."

She rolled her eyes. "Do you want me to give you tips on how to do your nails, Blaine? Can this conversation get any gayer?" she arched an eyebrow.

He felt his heart race, and his hands get clammy and cold. Those words had left him feeling like his heart was going to explode from pure and utter fear of being found out but she didn't realise this. He didn't know why he was 'being found out', whenever people mentioned Blaine liking boys, his stomach twisted and his heart felt heavier. It felt so clear to him that he must like boys, but the thought made him want to projectile vomit. The thought of him holding and loving a boy seemed so wrong.

She then added on. "They're perfectly sharp," she commented, staring at them. The nails glinted, shining. "I wish I can claw my face out with them sometimes."

He grabbed her wrist, just above the silvery bracelet, and then pulled her closely. He rested his hand on her cheek. "Such a shame," he mused. "Such a lovely face."

"Such a lonely boy," she murmured under her breath, and then their lips met together in a senseless escapade.


Sebastian liked to think of butterflies sometimes.

He liked to think he had been a caterpillar morphing into a butterfly. Pierre had called it the transformation of glass, because no matter what body Sebastian occupied, his soul was like a mirror. You'll always be Bas to me, whether it's Bastina or Sebastian or Carl or whatever the fuck you wanna be, and if your Mother has a damned opinion about it, she should shove it up her tight little ass. Butterflies were beautiful, agile, and free but what they'd never told Sebastian was in order to be a butterfly; he also had to be lonely and fragile.

Even a year later, loneliness crept and twisted in his spine. He shifted uncomfortably in his position now. He sat in the Lima Bean. It was almost scolded except for a pair of young lovers that only felt like centimetres away from him. They talked and laughed. Sometimes, he cared enough to abandon acceleration and forces to listen, but sometimes, it became too much to bear the thought of listening to a second more. The existence of Blaine resurfaced memories, mostly buried deep inside the cocoon he hadn't fully shed. What a butterfly, what a pretty fucked up butterfly. Sometimes, he hummed to himself tunes to drown out their words, but most of the time, it didn't work. Most of the time, he'd just go over there and send them the snarkiest, smarmiest comments possible.

The process of metamorphosis was such a strange thing. He'd never abandon the past completely, but he cannot transition into a butterfly if his body was still clinging onto the accusation that he was caterpillar. He used the words caterpillar and butterfly just because it made him sick to think of boy, and girl, two separate things that were usually put into separate categories. Sebastian wanted to think he was one entity, even if his mind and body were completely dissociated. The little boy in him was a butterfly, and his little girly half was a caterpillar, slow, unable to fly, a body that was a mere vessel.

Below the canvas that he'd created, his body was a betrayal. It used to be a vessel, a mere vessel, but day by day, he realised vessel was too light of a word, as his body betrayed him. It betrayed his mind. He was imprisoned in this body, this wrong body, and was conscious to the point of starving his now barely existent breasts. He was cautious, and even his A-cups were hidden behind a flattening binder that made his chest feel as if it was suffocating. He wondered how he'd managed to hide for so long, to make them think he had wings, when he could not truly fly. He wondered when they'd find out, when they wanted him to fly and see he could not. Surely then, they'd realise he was a butterfly far too broken to be named a butterfly. Pierre called him insane. Blaine thought his metaphors had always met something else.

Why a butterfly? Blaine had asked.

Because they're beautiful, Bastina – the very ugly caterpillar – responded.

Blaine's eyes had glittered and Sebastian would never forget that line, as he told Bastina, typically, when you compare yourself to anything, it's because that something is greater than you are, but I believe you are more beautiful than any singular butterfly floating in this very universe and existence. Bastina had been so pathetic to believe every word he'd said. Sebastian was so pathetic to still smile, even if it was the smallest smile in the world, whenever he thought of those words that brought a small jolt of euphoria in his body.

Sometimes, they brought over others and it was hard not to overhear, so he was inclined to overhear things, mostly opinions interjecting. From where he sat, he can see Santana's sharp, manicured fingernails that were equal to Sebastian's own. He wondered why he still bothered to do his nails, almost as if he was just waiting for Blaine to notice, kiss him, love him again, a love that was pure, a love that was so pure that it was dark and the darkness had slid down to a pit of lies, fears, and doubt. Sebastian would always remember. He'd had taken his hand at snide, repetitive remarks that felt harsher every time he'd said them. Kurt's own fingernails were also cut perfectly, and oh so élégante. Sebastian forgot when he'd come to despise the French language, but with French came pain, a pain so immense that it stayed in his heart for days, weighing heavily.

Sebastian sometimes wanted to throw up, or ironically, claw his fingers out, but there was no lover to prevent him from doing that. Sometimes, he truly wanted to, but the idea of it all felt futile and he cannot make his Mother more upset than she was at the current moment. She had never forgiven him for what he'd done and he'd done nothing but hurt, curl up into a blanket spending years in denial, and then starve himself senselessly until he had no figure at all. He used to have a pear-shape, but now, he did not. Now, he was far too thin to have a shape. He'd drunk down the rest of his cappuccino. He could tell stories of a pain so immense that it had led to the desperation of starving, screaming at his mother, yelling, fighting, and tearing fabric off dressers with his own hands. He'd managed to reduce his double D cubs so naturally and now, they barely existed but even then, he still used a binder to flatten his breasts.

In fact, the thought of tearing off dresses led Sebastian to believe that the colour shirt that Kurt was wearing used to be a common colour in his dresses, because it was dark and slimming and his mother did not approve of anything above a size zero before. Right now, he fit into the double zero section. Actually, the thought of being the female model ideal made him want to throw up, but at least now, he had a basis. A starved body that can take on layers. If he wore big enough layers, he just looked like a beautiful thin boy. It was like a dream to see a boy in the mirror, something on the inside fluttering like a butterfly fluttering away from its cocoon. He can finally rest. His mind did not go to his large breasts, or his period, but sometimes, he still got it. That day had been the first time in six months he'd gotten his period. He'd forgotten to buy pads before but he had now, stashing them underneath his shorts in a drawer, almost as if it was a filthy, disgusting secret. Sebastian had always made his mother assume that his period had stopped and that she murmured something about childlessness and infertility.

He'd taken another sip from his cappuccino, warm, frothy, as it slid down his throat. He can taste how sweet it was, and that was peculiar. He vaguely remembered that cappuccinos weren't supposed to taste sweet, but yet again, boys were not supposed to love each other and he was logically a girl, a female, with a vagina and breasts he hid behind binders and clothing two sizes too big on him. He still watched them speak about Michael Jackson and then he chose to step into the conversation, because they can't perform Michael Jackson. He despised Michael Jackson, but it reminded him of Blaine, the moonlight and those memories that haunted him and was a constant nuisance. They simply cannot perform Michael Jackson.

When Sebastian looked into those brown eyes, he was reminded of everything he'd lost, everything he'd despised and everything he'd ever wanted. He'd learned over time that hatred was better than pain. Pain destroyed him, but he can revel in the hate, create something from it, something that resembled chaotic beauty. He'd come to notice fingernails in a way other people didn't and he honestly noticed Santana Lopez's fingernails, which were manicured and sharp. His Mother would've called it élégante, and oh so belle. Kurt Hummel's fingernails were also as articulate, and if Sebastian had realised something about nails was that when they'd broken, they still grew back, just as effortlessly beautiful, and that revolted him sometimes.

He took a sip of his cappuccino, far too sweet still, and had it been the incentive of this sugary liquid to warm his bitter heart?

They talked of memories with that man. Michael Jackson. All Sebastian can remember was a dissociated memory, fuzzy, but that memory had led to where he was now, with a Mother who despised his being, and a starved body that can muster up the energy and function for him to menstruate twice every year. Blaine had touched him first with The Way You Make Me Feel playing in the background. It never drowned out his moans. He had come into her. She'd forgotten to take the pill. He can hear his Mother tell him again and again, what if you'd have gotten pregnant, Bassie? Look at how upset your Father is. He couldn't dare meet his Father's eyes. He was humiliated and alone, when he'd realised that Blaine had left too after telling Philippe that, I believe I'm gay. I…I wasn't thinking of Bastina when I came into her. I was kinda thinking of you. They kissed, and she watched and her heart broke. That girl was the past now. He'd traded in broken hearts for a furious anger, a painful memory for a dissociated one, and size fifteen skirts for size one pants.

Then Sebastian stated that the Warblers were doing Michael Jackson for Regionals and in the fiery pit of his stomach, down the hunger, he knew that there was a small amount of revolt because Sebastian Smythe can honestly not stand the man. He'd changed his name, his identity, his gender, and he had nothing right now. Santana scolded him coldly, as those soft fingers brush against that mocha, and Sebastian pointed out that Kurt was wearing boy clothes. The act of pointing it out had singled him out as self-conscious, because he wondered if he should look down and see that if his pants had morphed into that lacy black skirt he had to wear for Renee's wedding, or if his hair had grown back to its blonde sunniness and tickled his butt again.

He smirked to regain some sort of control they wouldn't know he'd lost. His blood was surging, curdling, and he suddenly felt so filthy and weak for having his period. He found himself vulnerable, underneath Blaine again, giving him all those dreams, all of his hopes, everything, and watching them break in moments, minutes. He left after he'd agreed to a Jackson-Off he honestly did not care about. He told himself that the pain wasn't that bad, and then, just then, as he stepped into his Escalade, he had started to purposely break every brittle, blue nail from his too thin hands.


Sebastian realised a long time ago that he wanted to die. He was a caterpillar trying to be a butterfly, but the sudden anxiety from being found out scared him. Sebastian wondered if people would just remember Sebastian as a "transsexual"; he hated the term transsexual. He hated what it implied, that he was pretending. He was not pretending. He was a boy underneath all of this, but biology had gotten its way, fucked him over and left him with such a distorted mentality. He did not come out to anyone because there was no reason to 'come out'; he was a boy, as simple as that. A boy did not state that he was a boy just a butterfly did not say when it was going to fly. It just did.

He had slipped back into that horrific mentality again, sitting there numb, wanting to cry, but never bringing himself to do a female's job. He was not a fragile, little girl, but he was strong, and would stay strong. He found it ironic, how he used the butterfly to explain the side of him that was definitely a boy, when a butterfly was fragile. Sebastian knew, in all essence, his metaphor was inaccurate but it had grown on him in the past years. His mind was racing these days, as he reverted back to the state of equilibrium and thoughtlessness. He went to his classes, but he did not listen. He sung, but he did not sing. He slept but it was a dreamless sleep. He ate, but the food was tasteless. There was no pleasure to revel in these days, nothing, but an endless void.

Sebastian realised he deserved nothing. He was not good enough for anything, but even those thoughts didn't derive him from the fact that nobody deserved anything in this world. The earth was a sphere with a thousand resources. Humans were ironically, inhuman, chopping the ecosystem, breaking it, creating things and leaving others to vend for himself. He found it hilarious that his own species – the 'humane' species, the one with thought – acted so selfishly. Sebastian himself was the epitome of selfish. He knew it, and he would bluntly state it given the accusation. All humans were selfish in some characteristic sense. He sometimes liked to say that he was a butterfly because the people in his life broke everything, ruined everything and left him all in the dark, playing with inhumane fire. Sometimes.

Then Sebastian realised that all of this was futile. Nobody cared about what he thought. Nobody gave a damn about it. He was nothing, nothing at all and with that knowledge, he still wanted him to know. He didn't care about anyone else, just him.

Come and find me, Lima Bean, 6PM, Sebastian drew a shaky breath as he sent the small, but powerful text, to Blaine Anderson.


The thing about waiting was that it was insufferable. He waited, with the knowledge that Blaine might not come, and he knew that he can't leave, just in case he missed Blaine. It had been eleven minutes after it struck six, and Sebastian had been there even a bit before. He had gotten another order, two of them, staring and hoping and then he saw him. Blaine. His shirt was pressed; his body was accentuated from every angle due to his fitted clothing, and most of all, his eyes glittered like he owned the world. Sebastian wanted to own the world too sometimes. Blaine had sat down; placing the bag he had in the chair beside Sebastian. The place was full of chatter and nobody would hear them.

Blaine's eyes wafted towards Sebastian as Sebastian pushed a cup of coffee towards Blaine. Blaine had taken it, almost as if he himself knew that Sebastian would never mess up his order. And he hadn't. Blaine shut his eyes. "Why did you call me over here?" Blaine's voice was slightly snippy. "And if you start talking to me about how hot and sexy I am, then I'm leaving."

Sebastian furrowed his eyebrows. He knew Blaine was acting more hostile than he had in such a long time, which led him to believe that Kurt must have told him something. Sebastian can spot it out so easily, with Blaine's words, the ice in his voice and his body language and each time that Blaine was colder, he stabbed Sebastian's heart harder. Sebastian remained stoic, shutting his eyes for a flutter of a moment. The butterfly floated against mirroring glass as he finally said, "What did he tell you?" he didn't even need to say a name because Blaine's eyes lit with recognition.

Blaine took a sip of his coffee, as if he was debating whether or not to tell him and then, in absolute truth, he said, "that you're going to hurt me." Blaine now looked slightly ashamed for this accusation. It was the shame that made Sebastian float higher.

Sebastian shut his eyes, taking in the truth, mixed with the caramel macchiato that he'd ordered. It was sweet, far too sweet, like the cappuccino. It took him a while to connect the dots: all of the coffee from the Lima Bean was too sweet for its own good, but nobody came here for just coffee, they came here to sit and laugh, chatter. It smelled like home. Even if Sebastian's home was into another country, the Lima Bean still managed to smell like home, familiar—like home. "I've been told from a boy that if you're comparing me to Kurt, it means that Kurt's known you for longer, but he hasn't. I know you like the back of my hand, Blaine Anderson, and you are such a lonely boy with such a confused little heart. You don't know what to do, or what to say, so you're inclined to believe your petty boyfriend for everything."

Blaine had drowned out most of the conversation, parts that he didn't want to hear but were true, as he finally said, 'what do you mean he hasn't? Sebastian, I've known you for three—"

Sebastian cut him off. "Years," he whispered. "The blade is sharp, Blaine, isn't it?"

Blaine understood the reference quite quickly. Sebastian meant that there had been something grand between them before, and the memories were usually like a sharp blade stabbing itself into his mind, sometimes painful but sometimes, the pain was worth it. He remembered using that metaphor a few times ago in his life, so he must have known Sebastian a time before if he was quoting him twice, the comparison quote, the blade. Sebastian had known him before. He had only used those statements and images years ago and every time he heard them, he still smiled a bit on the inside because it meant that he'd shared a memory with these people. Now, he can only feel guilt, because he could not remember Sebastian as hard as he tried, but Sebastian knew Blaine well enough to quote him

"I never knew there was a blade to begin with," Blaine admitted, now flushing deeply.

"Oh, there is a blade," Sebastian easily acknowledged as he raised an eyebrow. "There is definitely a blade and it's as sharp as pain itself."

"I can't remember you," Blaine finally stopped beating around the bush with a metaphor, and his eyes shut tightly. "As hard as I can, I can't remember seeing that face, any of it. I can't remember you at all. I'm sorry, Sebastian, but it's the truth."

"I know," Sebastian knew that it was partially his fault and then he added on.

"You're lonely," Blaine finally commented as Sebastian looked up to see Sebastian's eyes. Sebastian slowly nodded his head.

"You're lonely too," Sebastian can feel it. He fluttered his eyes again and then added on. "I believe that when someone shares your insecurities in secret, then they are much more likely to notice the pain that they are suffering on the inside as well. It's so apparent to you that I'm lonely and it's apparent to me that you are too."

Blaine shut his eyes. "I think he's going to leave me," he honestly said. Sebastian didn't need anyone to tell him that Blaine was talking about Kurt.

Sebastian couldn't help but burst out laughing. Blaine's face hardened significantly, finding Sebastian find happiness in his dismay. "Why are you so happy?" Blaine murmured, eyes as cold as ice.

"I'm not happy," Sebastian shook his head, lips producing a small, bright smile. "It's called irony due to karma."

Blaine seemed to try to tie the pieces together. He knew that Sebastian had known him from some other time, and according to Sebastian, it had been a span of three years. He'd obviously had to have left Sebastian before, which explained the karma reference. Blaine tried to remember Sebastian's face, but his memory seemed to elude him. Perhaps, Sebastian had looked different then than he had now, or perhaps, Blaine had been completely inconsiderate. He knew that before, he was slightly ruthless, emotionless. He did not care about other people's feelings. He did not realise this until he was hurt, physically hurt.

Blaine's mind went towards memories, memories he long wanted to bury. He did not realise Sebastian was trying to do the same. The past was horrendous. Blaine knew that much. Blaine can remember days where he was reckless, where he slept with women and claimed that he was straight. He remembered one of them was going to have his child, and had killed herself because of it. Blaine's heart gave away at that memory. He remembered her name was Lucy and that she had brown hair. He had never known her last name, what she liked, or anything about her. He was as cold as Sebastian. In some way, Sebastian's treatment of him was karma itself. Blaine had chased women just as Sebastian was chasing him. It was all in a play of karma overlapping and twisting in karma. Blaine realised all of the pain he was feeling right then was only because he'd made people go through so much of it years ago.

Blaine thought he was invincible, so when he had finally come to terms with his sexuality, he marched down and asked a boy to the dance, a boy whose name he can't really remember, with one front tooth missing and beautiful black hair. Blaine thought nothing would happen, but everything had happened. He had been broken, beat and scarred by the hands of those who he thought were his friends. After that, it had only gotten worse. They'd broken him entirely, made him lose any confidence, as he built himself a shell. He called it his small it shell of perfection. Blaine thought that if he had been perfect, nothing else would matter. If he was gay or straight, he'd just be so perfect that nobody can hate him, but they did. They hated him. Slowly, Blaine got lost in the shell he tried to create from himself. What was a preference had become a priority, like hair-gel, bowties, proper grades, a winning smile…Blaine had become a shell of his former self without realising it. The thought of mustering up any amount of courage, or individuality seemed foreign to him.

Blaine had told Kurt about courage because he was courageous. He was so brave. He was so bold. He was horrendously adventurous but now, he'd built a safe zone for himself. Every time he tried to gain a little bit of self-confidence, he can hear them telling Blaine about how disgusting he was, how wrong he was, how short he was, how fat he was. Blaine would always see himself as a short, disgusting, sinful fat person and that would never change. He hid behind his smiles, but he himself didn't realise it. His act had become reality. He couldn't help but smile when he saw Kurt. It was a fake smile. He can't help but sing, but every song was hollow. He wondered what was wrong with him sometimes.

Blaine looked at Sebastian for the longest period of time. He tried to remember those green eyes.

"You left me," Sebastian hissed out and that word stung Blaine as hard as possible. He looked away. He stared at the coffee cup and then he drank a bit from it. The bitter drip was too bitter.

"I'm sorry," Blaine didn't know how accurate that statement was, but it held truth. He was sorry he was so fucked up before. Blaine was sorry that he was so inconsiderate, so horrible. Blaine used to act as if the world had simply revolved around himself, blinded by admiration from girls for how much of a gentleman he was, and the thoughts of just fitting in. Blaine didn't know who that Blaine was, or this Blaine – he didn't know which one was his true self. He wondered if he was ever really Blaine, or near closes to what Blaine was supposed to be. He was blinded by popularity then, and shallowness, but now, he had built a shell of perfectionisms. He wondered which one was closer to the real Blaine, or if there was a real Blaine at all. Blaine sometimes thought he didn't exist, that he was just something floating in the atmosphere.

"What for?" Sebastian asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I was a horrible person," Blaine murmured.

"You were lost," Sebastian laughed humourlessly. Blaine wondered how Sebastian can make an excuse for Blaine, when Blaine couldn't dare make an excuse for himself, for being so horrible. "I was lost…" Sebastian's eyes drifted off to nowhere. Blaine tried to remember Sebastian, he honestly had but he couldn't.

"Who are you, Sebastian Smythe?" Blaine laughed humourlessly.

Sebastian shut his eyes when he'd pulled his wrist so that Blaine can see the watch he was wearing. Only then had he recognised the watch, he recognised that he'd given it to one of his many conquests, a girl that had the same initials as him – a girl whose heart he'd broken when he left her all alone in Paris. Blaine's heart was thudding too quickly, racing in his chest until he felt a sharp dislodging feeling in his stomach. Blaine bit down his lower lip, as he took Sebastian's wrist, and pulled the watch closer. It was in the same condition he'd given it to her, the same exact condition. It even had those criss-cross scratches on the sides and was as out-dated as it had been.

Blaine had stared at Sebastian for the longest of time. "You're beautiful, Bee," his eyes were glittering.

Sebastian shut his eyes. "I don't know how to feel about that," and it was the honest truth.

"You really are b—"

Sebastian cut him off. "Don't you dare call me that again," apparently, he found out right then that he hated it, mostly because he didn't believe it.

"I think I owe you an apology."

Sebastian stared up at Blaine. "Think?" now that Blaine had figured it out, it was all a rush of agony to Sebastian's bit. Being so exposed made him feel so vulnerable and he retaliated by being icier than normal. Blaine slowly nodded his head, stood up and gestured towards Sebastian. Sebastian knew he shouldn't follow Blaine and should throw the coffee at him, but Sebastian had been pinning after Blaine for so long for a reason. Blaine made him feel complete, perfect, happy…beautiful even sometimes, even when he wasn't. He will never be beautiful, girl or boy, or anything in between. Sebastian knew that in order to be beautiful, he'd have to have a pretty mind, but he was fifty shades of fucked-up.

Sebastian got into Blaine's car. Blaine took him to his house. Blaine's house was different than Sebastian had imagined. Blaine had allowed Sebastian to sit on his lap. Blaine had played with the hem of Sebastian's shirt, before lifting up the shirt. Blaine realised he was being a lot like his older self, but he had to see it for himself, that Sebastian was truly a girl. Sebastian had known that much and allowed Blaine to slide off his shirt. Sebastian stared at the mirror and was instantly revolted. He felt as if his binders couldn't flatten his breasts even more. Blaine had pulled Sebastian up, running his hand across his back as if to try and convince him otherwise. Blaine knew the self-loathing just as well as Sebastian did. In all essence, Sebastian was told he was selfish, that he would love nobody but himself, and Blaine was so like him. Blaine had left his hands grip tightly around his thin arms.

"How much do you eat?"

Sebastian shrugged. "Not enough," Blaine's hand rested on the faintly visible ribcage on his part. His stomach came to a slight concave and his hipbones pierced through skin. Blaine had laid a soft kiss just above Sebastian's ribcage, rubbing the area in reassurance. Sebastian looked back at Blaine, and told him to open his mouth. Sebastian leaned down to kiss Blaine but Blaine pulled his head away.

"I am not what I was," Blaine murmured, his eyes dark. Blaine's hands ran towards Sebastian's hipbones, as a broken smile reached his face.

Sebastian smiled too, but they smiled smiles that were made to mirror pain. "Such a shame," Sebastian murmured. "Such a lovely face."

Blaine immediately remembered, as he stopped moving his hands, placing them directly above Sebastian's hips.

"Such a lonely boy."


That morning, as Sebastian woke up, he was in a bed that wasn't his own. It was Blaine's bed. He'd wanted to be here in years; it even still smelled like him. Blaine, however, was still asleep, and on the couch. Some things never changed. Blaine's parents were still never quite home and Sebastian was still not quite fine. Sebastian shuffled through the duvet, as he crawled towards the couch. He looked down at Blaine with those soft eyes. He wanted Blaine. More than anything in the world, he realised he wanted Blaine Anderson and one of the hardest things in the world was trying to accept the fact that Blaine would never want him back like Sebastian did.

Blaine's eyes slowly fluttered open. Above all else, Sebastian realised that his glass transformation of a caterpillar into a butterfly could not be more beautiful than Blaine Anderson's eyes. Nothing was. Sebastian can try to emulate that beauty but it will always be futile. Blaine placed a hand on Sebastian's cheek. Sebastian revelled in that simple touch. Blaine then stretched, yawning and then staring straight into Sebastian's eyes. He wondered what Sebastian was thinking, staring at him with those love-dazed eyes. Blaine can say that he'd known a boy that had loved him more than anything in the world, and he'd always mean Sebastian. Kurt loved him, but Blaine would always love Kurt more. As hard as Blaine tried, his emotions betrayed him. If he could love Sebastian, then he would be promised an eternal kind of love, but he did not love Sebastian, at least not in the way that Sebastian wanted him to.

Sebastian watched Blaine picking up his iPhone and slid a lock through it. Sebastian had caught the wallpaper and chose to comment on it. "Lopez had a breast implant?" he murmured.

Blaine blushed but then slowly nodded his head, confirming Sebastian's theories. "I hate them," Sebastian said, his voice hard with iciness. "I hate your boyfriend and I hate Lopez so much I can write a book about it."

Blaine looked up at Sebastian with knowledgeable eyes. "Because you don't know how a person can flaunt being a girl or how they can choose to be more feminine."

Sebastian shrugged but he knew that was true. Blaine had stared at Sebastian's chest for some time as if he was just waiting for those Double-D breasts he'd been used to seeing to suddenly burst out from that nearly flat chest. "You know how to spot out fake breasts?"

Sebastian nodded his head slowly. "Mother's friends all have fake ones, Mother included. She is far too thin to have a figure. Most females don't have one if you starve enough, others are still stuck with enormous ones even as their weight plummet. I am like Mother, except I don't feel the need to preserve pockets of fat that are supposedly endearing. It's as gross as shit. It looks so fucking unnatural I can just…ugh."

Blaine had stared at Sebastian's face now. Blaine had always known that Sebastian had issues with his Mother foremost than anyone else in this world. He despised her and she despised him. Sebastian took Blaine's phone from his hand, to look at pictures. He pointed to one of Santana, and pointed at her lips. "Far too much lip-gloss, her nails are too articulate for my test…your boyfriend also files them too—probably to stick that damned finger in your ass and loosen you up. Hummel files them regularly as well."

"As you," Blaine murmured.

Sebastian looked away. His thoughts were on his nails now. "You've always liked them."

Blaine smiled weakly. "I still do," he took in Sebastian's hand to stare at those still completely flawless nails. Most people wouldn't stare at them like Blaine would. It was the closest thing Sebastian had ever had to perfection.

"Did he sleep with you?" Sebastian asked, his voice soft.

"I waited," Blaine murmured as if it made any difference to what Sebastian still thought about him – that he was unchangeable, that above everything else, Blaine had sex first.

Sebastian placed his hands on top of Blaine's hips. "You lied to me," he murmured. "You did, didn't you?"

Blaine shut his eyes. "Yes," his voice was wavering slightly.

"You're not gay. I can see you. You want me. You've always wanted me, but…you left me," Sebastian caught Blaine's body language. "You would sleep with everything in this damned universe. You still do. You're still attracted to everything that can have sex with you."

"Sebastian, stop it," Blaine ushered, eyes getting harder by the second.

"Why the hell did you leave me? You're not gay." Sebastian shook his head. "As long as it had a reproductive organ, you wanted it."

Blaine turned to look at Sebastian. Sebastian can see the pain. Blaine knew he wanted physical touch, that he may be close to addiction. Blaine knew that he was not 'confused' with Rachel. He just wanted to remember how it felt like to be normal. When Blaine had seen how Kurt had reacted to the possibility of him being bisexual, Blaine had dropped the subject in its entirely. Blaine thought it was better anyway, to be gay rather than be bisexual. Bisexuality meant confusion and his Father would press against his more-so straight side, when Blaine in fact did prefer males over females for the most bit. One of the only girls that managed to swoon him was Bastina. One of the only girls and she'd never know.

Blaine shut his eyes. "I didn't…"

"You didn't love me," Sebastian murmured in realisation. "Christ. You didn't want to do shit with me, so you told me you were gay. You're telling Hummel you're gay."

Blaine slowly nodded his head.

Sebastian's eyes filled with a flash of fury. "Don't you fucking hurt Kurt like you hurt me. Don't you dare give him that pain that you gave me. He has dreams, Blaine. Dreams that we didn't have. Don't you dare take that away from him, you fucking whore!"

Blaine shut his eyes and slowly nodded his head. "I know," he softly murmured. "He's so energetic, so beautiful…I can't be what I was before. I can't give someone that type of pain again."

Sebastian slowly nodded his head as Blaine flickered his eyes towards Sebastian for a moment. "How much did I hurt you?"

"Enough to make me hate myself so fucking much. You made me feel like I'm inferior to be a girl, you made me hate it all and as time passed on, that hatred grew into something so fucking strong that it killed me to live on a day in that figure, in that fucking gender. The thought of staying that way made me want to fucking puke or shoot myself…if you tell Hummel that you're bisexual, he's going to kill himself from worry and jealousy. He doesn't trust you to be five seconds in a room with me. Now imagine you let loose the fact that you're bi and he's just going to glue himself to your arm. Hummel doesn't trust you." Blaine shut his eyes as Sebastian continued. "And for good reason, Blaine. For good reason."

"Shut up!" Blaine snapped. "You're acting like I killed you."

"But you did kill me, Blaine," Sebastian snapped. "Where's Bastina, Blaine? Where the fuck is Bastina?"

Blaine pushed Sebastian on top of the bedside, flipping him over and pinning him by his wrists. He kissed Sebastian as hard as possible, running his hand down towards Sebastian's pants. He unbuttoned it, and threw it away. Sebastian curled up, feeling exposed as Blaine got a sight of his wet panties. Blaine shook his head, pulling the underwear. Blaine got on top of Sebastian, taking Sebastian's face into his own and then kissed him. Sebastian groaned.

Blaine realised he was more like his old self right now than ever before. It flashed towards a familiar place. He realised he knew what he was doing right now, but he could care less. Like he couldn't care less before. It was all elapsing on top of him. He knew he'd regret it. A part of him was thinking Kurt, Kurt, Kurt but another part of him was wondering just how quick he could get Sebastian off. But just before, Blaine pulled his hand just underneath Sebastian's breasts as he laughed.

"There," he spat out. Blaine's eyes were a mirror of confusion, pain and intensified emotion. "There's Bastina."

Sebastian laughed, and he didn't know whether it was from happiness or from sheer pain.


Sebastian knew that he should've stopped Blaine, but he couldn't stop him at all.

Now, they were lying beside each other, naked, pouring with sweat. Sebastian was staring at him and then he felt it. The weight of the situation – he felt the gravity pulling him down. He shifted to another side, heard Blaine snore. When Blaine was going to wake up, he was going to get himself a cup of coffee, and then he was going to realise it too. Sebastian pulled Blaine's iPhone and then stared at it.

He saw that there was one singular message on that phone. It was from Kurt, who just sent him a ?. Sebastian answered that, Hummel, it's Sebastian.

What are you doing with him? Sebastian can even hear Kurt hiss that out.

I don't know, Sebastian realised the accuracy of the statement when he'd said it. He's sleeping right now.

Sebastian, I honestly want you to answer this bit. Did he do anything with you? Did you do anything to him? Sebastian remembered the days where that wasn't even an option. Everyone knew Blaine's reputation so of course, he and him had done something. Sebastian knew it was horrible, but he answered in a second's worth of time.

Meet me up in ten minutes. There is something that I must show you.


Kurt was sitting there in the Lima Bean when Sebastian had walked inside, and then pulled out a small paper clipping from his bag. Kurt was sitting beside Santana Lopez, whom was staring at Sebastian with hard eyes. Kurt raised an eyebrow when he'd seen the clipping. Sebastian had given the paper to Kurt. Kurt thought this was irrelevant as he read out the paper out loud so that Santana can hear his every possible wor.d

"Lucy Cornell, aged fifteen, was found dead in her apartment on the fifteen of November." Kurt shot a look towards Sebastian, raising an eyebrow at him, probably wondering why it was relevant to the situation at hand, but Sebastian gestured for Kurt to read the whole article. Kurt looked down and took a deep breath, a sigh of pure and utter frustration. Sebastian felt something knot in his stomach, a lot like pain for what Kurt was going to read.

"Lucy's cause of death was estimated to be a deliberate take on her own life, as she'd overdosed on sleeping pills though showed no signs of any sleeping problems. Parents had said that Lucy was vibrant and happy. She was also going to get into medicine and according to her grades and love for science, it was a fine selection. However, Lucy was also found out to be three months pregnant. The Father of her child, Blaine Anderson, refuses to comment on this…"

Kurt had looked back, seeing a picture of Blaine and Lucy. Sebastian looked down as the dread was full-force right now. He had never felt so guilty for showing anyone the cold harsh truth, but there was something about those broken blue eyes that made his heart stop. The more he looked into them, the more sadness he saw, the more he honestly wanted to throw himself over a bridge. Santana was too shocked to say a word.

"Hummel?" Sebastian called out.

"I was dating a stranger," Kurt laughed humourlessly.

"Blaine has a past that he runs away from." Sebastian finally stated. "He doesn't lie. He tells you about the bullying, the scars, and all of that, but he spent most of his life denying the fact that he was bisexual, not gay. He's as bisexual as fucking hell. He knows he is. He's pushed around for that. He used to be 'straight', popular; and so fucking perfect…he used to love me too. I've known him for three years of my life, and I know that he's a whore that sleeps with everything that has a sex organ, but Kurt, he tries to run away. Dammit, he tries to run away from it all. He tries to be perfect; he has this obsession with it. He's going to kill himself because of it one day. He wants to be the sad, vulnerable gay victim then nobody can hurt him like they do all the damned time."

Sebastian looked away slightly. "Blaine has attempted to take his own life, countless of times. He's a recovered cutter. He has a history of depression and he's never going to be fucking stable. He did sleep with me but it's in his fucking nature, just like it's in your fucking nature to parade around in glitter. I know he's gonna wake, he's going to regret it – I looked through her room and anything he can potentially harm himself with was chucked out the window. No way he can bypass his parents to get a knife or some shit. I know this. I know every fucking thing about him and I know that no matter what in hell's name do I do, he's not gonna love me."

Sebastian shut his eyes. "Why the fuck am I running after him then? I don't know. I don't fucking know. I'm stupid. I don't—"

Kurt cut him off. "You…honestly love him," it dawned on to Kurt right then. "You love him."

"All his faults, they seem like nothing to me," Sebastian murmured. "He'll always be as perfect as Hell to me. He can threaten to kill me or run me over and I'll still do the same damn thing."

Kurt was just about to leave. Santana was shuffling too, as apparently, it was awkward but Sebastian had grabbed his wrist.

"Kurt, don't let this kill you," Sebastian finally advised, as he shut his eyes. "In reality, I know Blaine isn't fucking worth it but it won't let me stop chasing his ass over. I thought he was gay before. The thing about it is when you really love someone; the kind of love that you kill for, you'd do anything. Anything stupid, rash, everything. He told me he was gay and I changed my whole gender for him. Now, I'm stuck. I'm stuck because I can't go back because I hate what I was, not because of the memories but it feels wrong. He gave me a whole fucking disordered type of shit thinking that I can't get myself out of. And damn, does it hurt. It hurts like hell."

Kurt slowly nodded his head. "Okay," he whispered.

Santana looked over at Sebastian as she raised an eyebrow. "Always knew you secretly was a pussy."

Sebastian enjoyed the comment. "Say that, princess but you only told yourself that shit was because you wanted to fuck me with your manicure."

Santana smiled, and turned around. "Nice nails, Smythe," she stated.

Sebastian nodded his head quickly after Santana had left, and Kurt looked back one more. Kurt walked towards Sebastian and hugged him tightly. Sebastian was shocked but then he buried himself in Kurt's neck. In years of battling this pain, insults, anger, fights, and obsessions, Sebastian had gone through that strong, but the second that Kurt had hugged him, Sebastian buried his face in the crook of Kurt's neck and then silently allowed the tears to fall from his eyes.


Santana may have volunteered at countless of places for sexy nurse outfits but she sometimes liked what she was doing. A nurse couldn't be bothered to take the patients to the room they were supposed to be in, so she assigned Santana to do it. She might not accounted for a lot of things in this profession but she certainly did not count for Sebastian Smythe to walk through those double door hallways.

Santana gripped tightly at her clipboard the closer he approached her.

"You're in the wrong room, princess," Santana rolled her eyes. She was supposed to lead the people with chemotherapy down the hall towards the room, but Sebastian had taken the clipboard from her hands, went through the first few pages and pointed towards his name on the schedule. Santana swallowed, trying to take in the quick fact that Sebastian had to have some sort of cancer. Santana finally asked. "What kind?"

"The kind that's in my damned ovaries," Sebastian finally said.

Santana shut her eyes. "What damned luck."

Sebastian looked at her for a moment. "I like your nails," he finally said after a moment, and she bit down her lower lip, taking his hand in hers.

"So, what's your story?" Santana had asked. "When did you realise you had cancer in your damned ovaries? And how come nobody knows and how come nobody cares?"

Sebastian shrugged. "I'm a boy," he finally said and Santana shut her eyes.

"No, you're not a fucking boy. You have a vagina and ovaries, and cancer in those ovaries." Santana said in a thick, dark voice. She grabbed his shoulders and pulled him to see him straight into his eyes. "Why is it so hard for you to deny every fucking thing that is happening to you right now? First off, Blaine doesn't give a damn about you. Secondly, you're dying. Thirdly, you must have had it for a while. You've coped enough about it; most other chemo patients are scared shitless first time around but not you. You've either already taken it and you stopped for some bit or you just don't care at all."

Sebastian shut his eyes. "I just don't care at all." He finally added on the last bit, as if she had said nothing.

"Did you hear anything I said?" Santana bellowed out in aggravation.

Sebastian nodded his head numbly. "Do you know why I told you about Blaine? Why I told Kurt about Blaine?"

Santana shrugged. "So they can break up and Blaine would finally give you a second's worth of his day? He doesn't talk to anyone at all. He's losing a shit tonne of weight. Anything less than a perfect mark on a test and he looks like he wants to cry. Lady gay feels bad for him sometimes and tries to help him but he's a convolution of a shit tonne of emotions right now. He told us everything. He told us you were the prettiest thing he'd ever seen when you were a girl, and that now, you're just lonely or some shit. He sounds crazy. Did he talk to you? When was the last time he talked to you?"

"He told me that he doesn't want to see me again," Sebastian finally admitted but he seemed at peace for the moment. "That I'm a trigger for what he was, but he told me that I was still so beautiful, but it was the kind of beautiful that came from dead butterflies."

Santana stared at Sebastian as Sebastian looked back at her. "I realised that my love for Blaine is not a true love. I did not love Blaine. Blaine was the only one in this fucking universe that gave me the time of day, so I fell too hard, with a fantasy. Blaine is never Blaine. He always changes. I was in love with something my mind fucking made up."

Santana shrugged. They paused by the doorway as Sebastian finally said. "I chased after Blaine because I believed that somewhere, somehow, deep inside, even when I knew not, that he'd love me. There was just this…constant uncertainty that kept me going. Like Blaine's a thousand buttons and the right one would make him love me or some shit."

Sebastian walked inside, and looked back. Santana's eyes were beautiful and they held a gaze of an angel trying to understand a world where inhumanity reigned.

"I just wanted someone to love me," he whispered the last bit out, 'but not all things can be loved."


Santana Lopez had never thought that she would have Sebastian Smythe in her household, but he was sitting there, a pop of his collarbone was showing against his shirt. Sebastian had Santana move towards him, where he had slowly stared at her chest. "How much did it cost?" Sebastian knew she wouldn't mind if he ran his fingers down her chest, so that was what he did. He ran his fingers down her chest and she took a deep breath.

"You're a guy that knows his breast implants?" Santana raised an eyebrow.

"The world is strange," Sebastian murmured, opening up the front of her shirt to slide it over her shoulders. He looked at her breasts, staring at the nipples that were showing through her thin-layered bra. Santana pulled her hands down his shirt and pulled it over. It was no use in asking 'may I?'s and wondering. She looked at his chest for some time, but her hands dipped to Sebastian's ribcage.

"Do you ever fucking eat?" she murmured, rubbing her hand down the slightly visible bone.

"The thing about wanting to look like a boy is that you starve off the parts that make you look like," Sebastian placed his hands on her hips, flickering his eyes towards her own. "…that," he finished off.

Santana snorted. "I'm sure you can gain a few pounds without having someone point out 'hey, 'he' probably has a vagina. Look at how big his hips are." Santana was just about to pull off his binder when he had grabbed her wrists, shaking his head at her. Santana pulled his chin up slightly so that the fearful looking Sebastian was staring at her. "You're a fucking confusing person. You take chemo like it's nothing but the second I want to see your vagina, you start looking like you've seen a ghost."

"We all have our different demons," he murmured.

"Maybe," Santana stated. She took Sebastian to her room, locked the doorway. He placed his clothing on the chair. He stood there, with the binder on his chest, and his panties. He stared at himself in the mirror. He pulled apart at his thighs, as if there was something there that was offending him. Santana walked to her full-length mirror, and just turned it to its backside. She looked back at Sebastian. "There is nothing that can reflect you, you little psychopath. Show me. I want to see girl you."

"Bastina," Sebastian murmured. "They called her Bee for the most bit. Blaine called me Bee."

Santana nodded her head. "Well, I wanna see Bee."

Sebastian just shrugged as if it didn't matter but it did matter. Nothing mattered more than her judgement at the moment. She pushed him up against the bedside, and pulled his panties away as well as his binder. She looked at Sebastian, the naked, exposed Sebastian. He wasn't even looking at himself. He was looking at her. Sebastian placed his hand on her side. He stared at her for some time as she leaned down and kissed him. Sebastian wondered if kisses were supposed to feel warm.

He pulled away for a moment. "I've never kissed a girl before," he had finally said. Santana revelled in this for a moment, as she took off her skirt. Santana pressed up against Sebastian, her lips meeting with Sebastian's own. Sebastian felt her cup him and touch him. Sebastian had been aware of everything around him, his body, his breasts, how wet he was, but all of that didn't seem to matter at that moment, as Santana showered his face with a multitude of kisses.

Santana stared into his eyes for the very moment and said. "Everything can be fucking loved."

And she proved it to him too.


"Could Blaine have loved me?" Sebastian asked when Santana and him were done. Sebastian was curled up against her body as she stroked his side.

Santana didn't answer. Sebastian knew the answer right then. He shut his eyes. "I've loved a girl before," Santana finally said. "I had to let her go."

"Why?" Sebastian breathlessly responded.

"She had to fly," Santana humourlessly chuckled.

Sebastian looked up at Santana's eyes, lost with her words. "I can't fly," he finally commented. "My wings are broken. I'm in your debt."

Santana knew how morbid that metaphor was but she couldn't help but smile too. They laid together in a shower of their scents, and the sound of the violin playing from the movie they were supposedly watching. Santana watched as Sebastian looked up at Santana.

"I like Bee," Santana finally stated, as she leaned down to kiss Sebastian's forehead. Sebastian had never been used to such delicate kisses. He was shocked that they had come from Santana Lopez. He'd never felt so beautiful, so effortless before. He didn't know about gender, or time, or place, just that Santana's body was warm.

"That makes one of us," Sebastian heaved out in annoyance.


Sebastian knew how Santana was. She was like Blaine. She told him not to be around Blaine as much anymore, that it would hurt him, so he was inclined to do that with her as well. Sebastian was just sitting in his loneliness at the Lima Bean. He used to be frustrated at Kurt and Blaine's chatter, but now, they sat opposite of each other without one saying much to the other. It escalated to laughter and Blaine mentioned something about Kurt now having to beat off all other boys with a stick. Sebastian was happy for a moment because Kurt seemed happier. The burden of their relationship and where it would head to after New York erased. They were just happy to be with each other. Blaine's laughter turned into a serious tone. He apologised and Kurt seemed to appreciate it. Kurt said that if Blaine had bought him a muffin, he'd be inclined to forget the whole ordeal. Blaine smiled and stood up.

Sebastian got a text message at the moment from Kurt. I'm honestly furious at him. I think I will be for a while, but I realise that hating Blaine would just push him farther away from himself and we both love him enough to realise that Blaine's perception of himself is so distorted that it needs help. He needs to get out of this shell of perfection he's placed himself into. He needs me.

Sebastian gave Kurt a smile, an understanding smile. Kurt looked away as Blaine came back. Blaine looked at Sebastian and was just about to say something when Santana had walked towards them, pushing a latte towards him. Sebastian raised an eyebrow. He hadn't expected Santana to get him anything. He expected her to forget about him entirely, but she hadn't. She'd even offered him a muffin and he took it graciously. They split it and Blaine had a knowing smile on his face. "Such a lovely couple."

Sebastian raised an eyebrow as a self-satisfied smile pressed against his lips. "Such horrid fingernails."

Blaine blushed as Kurt laughed. Sebastian saw Santana staring at his own fingernails, as she placed a hand on top of hers. They can be hand models. Sebastian drank a bit of the latte and realised that it was different than usual, too sweet but the sweetness finally was okay in Sebastian's mind. Blaine and Kurt sat by each other. Sebastian heard them talk. Santana did too. She gave him company to something he used to do every day. They didn't need to speak to not feel lonely. Sebastian watched as Blaine confirmed what he knew – that him dissociating his body and self from the "real" Blaine – creating different personalities and mannerisms was definitely a mental disorder. Blaine said he didn't know who he was. Kurt nodded his head. Blaine swore to his grave that he had strong feelings for Kurt.

"I don't know what these feelings are, Kurt, but they're there. And I think they're good," he promised. That promise would matter more than anything else in the world.

Sebastian didn't know what to say but he felt Santana grab his hand and squeeze it tightly. She felt the same way too.


"Where the hell are you?" David murmured. "You've been constantly skipping Warbler practice—"

"I've had appointments, several of them," Sebastian cut David off, as he picked up a muffin from the table. He sliced it up into four parts and ate that little bit, with a small shot of his cappuccino. The muffin was moist and nice. Sebastian liked it. He reached out for another part of it, with Santana's voice in his mind. Jeff had perked up exceptionally, asking Sebastian if he wanted him to ice the cupcakes he'd made and if Sebastian wanted one. Sebastian seemed more invested with Jeff, as he made a comment about how icing made people fat. Jeff shut his eyes and blushed.

David huffed. "I hardly think you need that many appointments unless you're dying of some terminal illness."

"David, do you dream?" a calm, collected Sebastian asked, ignoring David's statement.

David was thrown back by the question. "I suppose…?"

"Then you must be a dreamer," Sebastian murmured, repeating Blaine's words into his mind.

"Fucking delusional little piece of—"

Sebastian had a small smile as David cursed out like a sailor. Jeff watched as Sebastian busied himself with muffin pieces, and then had picked off an iced cupcake. This made Jeff light up in glee as Sebastian took a bite out of the cupcake. It was gone in three seconds but it didn't matter. Sebastian stared down at his hands, transfixed by his fingernails, which were now blue in this light from years of malnutrition. He did a small experiment and snapped one, which led to others snapping just as quickly. He realised how brittle his fingernails were, how fragile he was, and he despised it. He drank his coffee in a small little corner when Nick did his Physics. Sebastian stared at Nick's articulate notes. He remembered Santana telling him about new Blaine that had severe anxiety issues right about now.

Sebastian watched Santana walk inside. He left immediately. She gripped onto his hand. He gripped back as their eyes met each other in a momentary glance. Sebastian can hear a few statements falling from David's lips that were a sign of incredulity, but Sebastian didn't care. Sebastian stared at Santana and for the first time since he had been diagnosed with cancer, he'd told her:

"I'm as scared as shit right now."


"That's a pretty girl, isn't it?" Nathalie Smythe commented when she'd seen Santana leave to get something from upstairs.

Sebastian looked away. He did not want this conversation from his Mother again. "Bastina, this is ludicrous, you realise. Pretending to be a boy will get you nowhere."

Sebastian looked back at Nathalie with hard eyes. "Pretending to be faithful seems to get you everywhere," he finally snipped back at her which caused her eyes to harden.

"You ungrateful child," Nathalie shook her head but then her eyes fell on his nails. "What happened to your nails? They were perfect."

Sebastian chose not to answer that, as he made himself a cup of coffee to busy himself, only attempting to drown her out.

"Bastina, your nails were perfectly sharp last time I've seen them and now—"

"I don't have enough fucking protein to keep them in one piece. They grow and they break off." Sebastian drank a small amount of the coffee he had. "I'm sure you know. All your nails are as fake as your boobs because your fucking body can't muster enough nutrients to give you boobs or to keep your nails in one damned piece."

"It's called being perfect," Nathalie rolled her eyes. "I suggest you try it sometimes."

Sebastian took a deep breath, before looking back at his Mother with a stoic expression. "I'm sure it matters, especially when I've so many months to live." Nathalie shut her eyes, as Sebastian continued. "Don't you get it, you shit bat crazy woman? I'm fucking dying and the first thing on your mind is how my nails look like. I'm pretty sure if that's perfect, then I'd rather rot in Hell than be it."

"No," Nathalie placed her hand up. The synthetic nails glittering and her eye-shadow was soft and sultry in the light. "The Doctor is giving you chemo. You will be fine. Everything will be fine and I will get my little adorable daughter and she'll get married and have a large array of children."

"Just like you were able to, Mother?" Sebastian huffed out in frustration. "Even if I did live, which has the chances of Aunt Renee finding herself a guy worse than Jeremy; I'd still be a boy. And perhaps if some chance in Hell, I decide I do want kids, I'm not going to be able to have them because like you, Mother, I also have a tendency of self-inflicted starvation and like you, the chances of me bearing a child is as small as my cup size."

"You will not die, Bastina," she finally said.

Sebastian laughed. "I'm already dead, Mother."


Sebastian was curled up into Santana's arms. She didn't say a word, as Sebastian gripped tightly around her waist, nuzzling into her chest. He had liked her breasts. He liked how feminine she was, and he hated it all the same. He was confused, but that didn't matter right now. She leaned down to plant a soft kiss on his forehead and he curled up even more into her arms. Santana knew how long Sebastian had and it killed her on the inside to look down at princess pain right now. When had she started to call him princess pain? She leaned down and pressed a kiss to Sebastian's cheek.

"Do you want to know a secret?" Sebastian murmured against Santana's skin.

Santana shrugged but laid a hand on Sebastian's back, slowly rubbing the skin. "You sure I don't know your whole biography yet?"

"Wanna bet?" Sebastian smirked, and then he shut his head, burying his head on Santana's. "I wanted to carry a baby once….It was only for a short while. I realised that I hate my body and my gender, and my gender is wrong but how can the ability to create a child ever be wrong? I wanted to go through nine months of self-loathing and pain because when I'll see a baby out of there, I'd be happy, a happiness that I realise I probably won't recognise, to have something produced from my pain and hatred…something beautiful, something definite."

"Shit," Santana wasn't hoping for something mind-boggling, making Sebastian smile at her response. "Fuck you with a metal container, Sebastian Smythe, you already have something beautiful and it's sure as hell definite," and with that, Santana gave him a kiss just to seal that definite something.


Sebastian's chemotherapy wasn't getting so much of a response. Santana turned around to tell him and before she can say a word, he asked her, 'I'm fucked, aren't I?" his voice was calm, the kind of calm that slithered underneath Santana's heart and made her head pound.

She nodded her head. "Fuck," she cursed. "We're fucked."

"We?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Fuck you for thinking you're gonna go through this alone, you cunt," and that was more than Sebastian can hope for as he smirked. His eyes glittered far too much for someone who was dying.

"I'm the kind of fucked that's almost like a dream," he mumbled, standing up from his chair as she placed her hand around his wrist, dislodging Sebastian from the IV that was connected to the chemotherapy. "Do you dream?" Sebastian murmured right under his breath.

Santana rolled her eyes. "Of course I fucking dream," she decided. "Does a whore have sex?"

Sebastian smirked at her response. "Well, you have your whore, where's my sex?"


The plate shattered.

"What did you say?" Santana asked with a clenched fist as she grabbed Sebastian's shirt. "What the fuck did you just say?"

Sebastian shut his eyes as Santana gripped even tighter on his shirt.

"I am going to fucking kill you!"

"Too late, babe," Sebastian murmured as Santana shook her head, groaning, unbelievably.

"Whatever the fuck you did, I don't care if you stole or raped someone or killed someone, I don't ever want to fucking hear those words out of your fucking lips, alright? You stupid whore, you don't say shit like that, you don't. Don't you dare say it again. Don't you fucking dare," Santana threatened him with the fork on the table now. She turned around to look at the steaming pasta in the pot. She then looked back at Sebastian, whom was honestly as pale as possible at what she'd just said.

Sebastian smiled weakly. "You know that no matter what the fuck you tell me, I'd still think I deserved this damned cancer, right?"

"No, you fucking don't. Don't say that again. What the fuck did I tell you about saying that again?" Santana glared coldly at him.

Sebastian shrugged as Santana then looked back at him. "Broccoli or carrots?" Sebastian groaned at the thought of eating any vegetable, as she threatened him with a fork yet again. "Carrots it is."


It was all leading up to this. Santana damn well knew it, but she just watched him sit there on the bedside. He can't cut his hair anymore. It was growing back. He barely looked like Sebastian now. He didn't even look like a boy, just a small, fragile girl with a too-thin body and such a tiny waist. Santana would've been envious usually of Sebastian's body, but staring at him now, seeing how underneath that shirt, there was just bone, bone, bone, it scared her. He looked up at her with a smile on his face. He'd always be a boy in her mind. That was how she'd always see him. That was what he wanted to be known as.

"What a divine boy," Sebastian turned to look at Blaine standing there, with a bouquet in his hands that was full of roses. "You're beautiful."

Santana wanted to throw up. Sebastian wasn't beautiful. He was dying on that bed. Sebastian was smiling so brightly, like a child that had just seen their Father for the first time in years. Sebastian took the bouquet from Blaine's hands, as Blaine slowly ran his fingers through Sebastian's hair. After most had fallen, it grew back quickly when the Doctor decided chemotherapy was futile. In less than three weeks, it was already short-length beautiful hair, but it was so dull, so lifeless, as lifeless as Sebastian was at that moment.

Santana leaned down and kissed Sebastian's cheek. He looked at her for some moment, as his eyes shut tightly. She watched him breathe. They looked at each other and in that moment, two strong people had tears filling their eyes. Blaine watched as Sebastian shook his head, snorting. "I'm a fugly caterpillar."

"Shh," Blaine murmured. "You'll dream soon, love. It won't matter."

Sebastian curled up. Santana wondered how he'd managed to look so vulnerable. Sebastian brought a trembling hand to look at Santana's nails. Kurt Hummel walked in slowly afterwards, and he seemed to keep his lips tightly pressed. He saw that Sebastian was admiring her nails and pulled out a clear coat of nail polish to add onto his nails. Kurt talked about a new boy and Sebastian listened, not saying much other than a few snide comments here and there. After they were done, Sebastian had stared at the coating.

"I think it's rather – dare I say it," Kurt placed a hand over his mouth. "Sexy."

Sebastian smirked. "I'm always sexy, Hummel," he slurred as he looked at his nails. Sebastian wondered why nobody was pointing out how disgustingly hideous he was. His hair felt long and greasy and it was pointy. His stomach felt like a concave. His skin was as grey as asphalt, yet they were sitting there, telling him how goddamned pretty he looked and Sebastian realised he liked that. A lot. He liked that they knew he felt like a disgusting piece of shit.

Santana just shook her head. "You act like you don't give a fuck about anything, like you're numb."

"Oh sweetie," Sebastian snorted, laughing. "Behind this mask is an unimaginable pain."

"So, what, we're just going to wait for you to die and dream yourself some fantasy? And we're supposed to be happy for you?"

Sebastian shook his head as he laughed at her statement. His laugh hurt him. His chest was hurting. The cancer had spread to his chest and spine a long time ago, and was attacking every part of his body right now, but he couldn't seem to care anymore. Blaine snorted and so did Sebastian.

"What?" Santana raised an eyebrow.

The mentally unstable Blaine looked once towards Sebastian, and Sebastian looked at Santana with a soft expression. "Do you live before you are born?"

"No, that's dumb," she murmured. Kurt raised an eyebrow.

Sebastian smirked smugly and shook his head.

"First you die, and then you dream." Sebastian shut his eyes tightly, lying on a bed made of nothing but the scent of death and a manicured fantasies. "And baby, I'm a dreamer."


Feedback I'd hope? :3

xo Peanut Butter/Sam