Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or its characters. Glee is produced by Ryan Murphy, Brad Falchuk, Dante Di Loreto, Ian Brennan, 20th Century Fox Television, and Fox. I do not own any of the musical lyrics, song titles that may appear in this fan fiction.
This was something that Santana had finally achieved since leaving Lima, Ohio. She was sure she'd die premature from high blood pressure if she stayed there, she pitied those retards that founded it in 1831… they should have packed their shit and rolled out of there without a second glance. Sitting in café enjoying some vanilla bean macchiato where they even shaped the foam into a heart, was way better than anything in Lima. Well, she recanted, Lima wasn't all that lame.
Brittany Pierce came out of Lima. The only person Santana loved and her best friend. She let out a soft huff of air and decided to not dampen the mood with her somber ass thoughts. They broke up, well sort of, but agreed to still work on them. That was fine for her, so much of the Big Apple to explore and many women to get into. It was just to keep her occupied until things worked out.
That's when Big Mouth Billy Bass seemed to step in to fill up her absence for Brit-Brit. Santana dated Sam before, but she'd be lying if she said she wasn't jealous.
She shook off these thoughts and brought the mug back to her lips, took a sip before scanning the crowd of people she shared this space with. There weren't many people inside here today though she didn't make it a habit to be here too often. Checking her phone for the time; she polished the last sip of her caffeinated drink, brought out her wallet and paid for macchiato… hell she even tipped well. She was expected to have some phone time with Blaine, as he was serving as her eyes and ears on Brittany. The ex-warbler stayed with the New Directions after he graduated (lord did they need him) and worked as a vocal coach as he was also actively involved in community theatre. He did have college plans but wanted to stay for a little while.
That's when her phone rang as she was flagging a cab and it seemed that Blaine was calling her right on time. She looked up at the street and gave up for a moment.
"Sup Twinkerbell, this better be important that I had to reschedule a hair appointment for." She was looking at her hair, her hair fell in waves but she was indeed due for another appointment for a trim.
"Hey San… I'm sure your hair is fine. It was kind of important so I needed to ask you something." She could hear some worry in his voice and that was unusual. That struck up a bit of concern. "I've been talking to some old Dalton friends of mine and I worried about Sebastian."
The Latina thought for a long moment. Sebastian, the name was vaguely familiar.
"Sebastian Smythe?" She asked and then furrowed her brows.
"Who else do we know named Sebastian, Sannie?" He said dryly.
Sebastian Smythe she hadn't seen that kid in some time. Last time she checked he was a self absorbed asshole but he was tolerable when not being a man stealing ass-hat. She remembered their exchange in the Lima Bean the first time, the duet, and of course the "Blaine Incident".
"Wait a minute, Sebastian the Warbler? Why should you care? He tried to turn you into a gay pirate and was trying to get all in your pants."
"That's behind us," He dismissed. "All I know is that Sebastian called me and he sounded… not himself. He's in New York, you're in New York. Can you just check on him?" Santana pulled her phone from her ear and stared at the screen, as if she were trying to project the look on her face through the receiver.
"No can do, Orville Redenbacher." She brought it back to her ear. "Me and meerkat face are not that close. Can't you ask Rachael to do it?"
"Rachael will tell Kurt and I can't ask Kurt because he hates Bast. You are the only one I can really ask."
"I can't. I'm busy… all week." She made up some feeble excuse. "I have dates and tests and shit."
"If you don't do this for me, I'm not going to give you details on Brit anymore." And from the sound in his voice he had played his card, it came out confident and it took her by surprise that Blaine Anderson would use Blackmail against HER.
"Touché, Blainey… I'm surprised at you." Her full lips quirked up into a smirk, though she was a little bit pissed… this was kind of pleasant coming from such a goodie-goodie wonder boy. "What do you want me to do?"
He pressed his fingers against cool keys and felt the icy chill sweep up his arms. To him it felt like it chilled his very core. He sat at his black baby grand piano playing Chopin's Nocturne, rather upbeat for the mood he was currently in. Eyes drifted close and fingers stroked keys, he lost himself to the beautiful sound that poured out of the tips of his fingers.
But his hands trembled and he struck a sour note. This caused the man to frown, slam the lid over the keys and he stared at his trembling fingers, this shake he couldn't control. He looked over into his kitchen before slinking into said room. He poured himself a glass of distilled water and leaned against the counter as he gulped it down. He could feel the shaky feeling beginning to subside. He was sick, and getting progressively worse. At least before he could hide it at Dalton, he wasn't nearly as tired.
Sebastian wasn't the type to admit such a vital flaw and imperfection. In high school, his Wilson's disease was manageable. He just had to drink water and stay away from certain foods; he bruised easily so he made sure to talk his mad shit from a far. Any bruises from dancing were easily covered in his uniform.
It wasn't until later that these hand tremors began. This wouldn't have been so bad if they weren't partnered with fatigue and muscle stiffness. Sebastian had song and dance pumping through his veins. Now some days he couldn't even get out of bed, some days where he was swept up in delirium that sent him curling up and clutching himself at night.
And the one noticeable thing that people began to notice, the jaundice that showed up on the palms of his hands, nail beds, and a little in his eyes and the brown ring that formed around his irises. Once a vibrant green now tainted with brown. He was scared of how much worse it could get… dementia, liver failure, death? He didn't want to die. He didn't notice the glass slip from his fingers and shatter all over the kitchen floor when he heard his doorbell.
"Shit!" He cursed and went to picking up the pieces and in a rush he cut himself on a piece of glass. He made haste in tossing out the pieces and went to working on controlling his bleeding finger with paper towel and prayed that it would clot. He made quick strides out of the kitchen until he stood in front of the door to his condo and opened the door. When he opened the door, he could barely believe it.
Cascades of dark hair framing a heart shaped face, rich caramel skin, full red lips, eyes framed with long dark lashes and fashionably dressed too. A white peacoat, black and white checked scarf, tight jeans and boots complimented her so well. When Sebastian saw her he instantly remembered this Latin girl. She was the girl went to McKinley, the girl who called him out to a duel, what did he call her that day?
"Shaqueera?" He mumbled almost thinking this was a delusion that he might have passed out on the floor… again. But then a finely arched brow cocked and he wished he could have taken it back. Santana Lopez was standing on his stoop and he might have insulted her before even saying hello.
"Hi Twink. Look, don't get me twisted; I'm doing someone a favor by coming here to see you. So, don't think I'm stalking you or anything." Her arms crossed over her chest, so much for a good start.
"Ah. Wait, aren't you supposed to be in Kentucky? Cheerleading or whatever you do." He tried to seem amused but came off breathless. One raised eyebrow turned to two. Obviously she caught that right away, she was always quick.
"I transferred." Her eyes went down to his hand. "Are you feeling alright? You look kind of pale. Your hand is bleeding." With a gentleness he didn't know she possessed, she caught his wrist and pulled the paper towel from around his finger, it was turning a bruising color and blood was seeping out of the cut. Normally such a small cut wouldn't bleed like this.
Sebastian took his hand away from hers. "Just come in… it's cool outside. That or I could close the door in your face like I should have when I saw it was you." Who was he kidding? He was not mentally up for a battle of witty insults with Lopez. He thought for a second that even she knew that because she just rolled her eyes and stepped inside.
"Let's get that finger patched up before you bleed out on the carpet." She let him lead her to his first aid kit and helped him clean it up. "So what's really going on Smythe? You aren't looking your smirky gay self."
"It's none of your business." He snapped back almost without thinking, fiercely and aggressively. Santana's eyes seemed to widen at his reaction. This wasn't him at all. Sebastian was sly and coy. Never lost his cool or least he wouldn't openly show it. "Shit… Forget it."
She simply said nothing as she bandaged his finger with such care. He watched her slim fingers work to patch him up, the gleam of her dark hair, her long lashes fanning her high cheekbones when she blinked. He never really noticed that she was kind of pretty… if girls were your thing.
"What the hell are you looking at, French fry?" She smirked at him and put a hand on her hip. "You must like what you see."
"You are lacking the parts I want, Satan. Not to mention your fun-bags, aren't looking so fun." He motioned to her boobs that were covered by her coat.
"Whatever, gay or straight, I know I'm fine." She let out a small chuckle. "So, are you really going to tell me what's up with you or do I have to string you up by your bushy ass eyebrows before you tell me? Spill."
"Why do you want to know? How did you even know where I live?"
"Blaine sent me. He was worried after you called him the other day." She cast him a suspicious look. Blaine… of course he'd sent the she-devil to look after him.
"Tell him I'm perfectly fine."
"That's the thing Smythe, you aren't fine." She took his chin in her hand and tilted it at different angles. "Your skin is paler, your eyes are jaundice. Are you doing drugs?"
"No. No. Nothing like that, I'm not doing drugs." The Warbler pulled away from her giving Santana a pitiful look. "I'm just sick, cold."
"My dad is a doctor. I call bullshit." She looked into his eyes and seemed to see through him. "You are definitely sick, it's terminal. Is it your liver?" Santana's bitch mode seemed to visibly fall from her features and she was staring at him with a concerned look.
"Why don't you mind your own business, huh? Why don't you just get out of my face? I don't want you here!" He slammed his injured hand against the wall behind her head and succeeded in actually scaring her his sudden violent reaction. "Get out and don't come back here again."
In an instant, he could see the worry wiped from her face and in its place a face of stone appeared, her face void of any emotion. She pursed her lips and moved away, putting about two feet between them. "I understand. You don't have to worry about me coming back here again." She turned away and marched to the door. "Bye, Sebastian. Hope you get better." And walked out and slammed the door behind her.
The air seemed to rush out of him when the door slammed. Yet again he was unable to control his mood swings. He walked to the door and swung it open, only to be greeted by a cool gust of autumn wind. Peering out into the street, she seemed to be gone. With a heavy sigh, he went back into his condominium. He wish he hadn't acted like that, he thought looking down at his wrapped finger. Santana was only trying to help and he pushed her away like he did with everyone else. He made a bee-line for his sofa and laid on it, feeling tired again after his outburst. Sebastian tossed his arm over his eyes and let himself fall into a dark, dreamless sleep.
AN: I love this ship so much I wanted to write for it and snagged some ideas from CSI: Miami when Grant Gustin played two twins. It took longer to write because the characters seem to have pre-established personalities. Unlike writing for Hiro in Koi Shiyo, I don't have that much freedom to do as I wish with the main characters. I'm just hoping I did them some justice and things are a little different than what I initially thought.