no air.

As much as Sebastian would like to pretend otherwise, he tended to agree with the others. He’d screwed up bad. He thought if he just proved to Blaine that he was BETTER than Kurt, that he could humiliate beat him, that that would somehow bring Blaine to him. That if he just WON the National’s, Blaine would realize how good of a fit they were, and Kurt would be forgotten. He realized after Dave, how wrong he’d been. He couldn’t prove anything to Blaine if he didn’t believe it first. All his life he’d tried to prove he was worth it. That he was worth his father’s attention, no matter if by his academics excellence, or by his teenager misdeeds. That he was worth more than the people who’d judge him for his sex, sexuality, personality or anything he was born with. His father had made him feel that that was the only way he’d ever grab someone’s appreciation. But he’d learned it differently, no matter how long it’d took, and now it seemed that maybe, perhaps, Blaine thought he was worth it, even if he couldn’t prove it. Even if there was no way to prove it to someone that didn’t want to see, it didn’t seem to matter, because it looked like Blaine ALREADY thought it. Could he dream of it? His breath was audible in the room when Blaine’s warm hand met his skin. His blood pumping thick in his throat against Blaine’s palm, as he let his own hand be held like he’d always hated to, but that with BLAINE felt so easy. The words made him breathe in. The way Blaine said “we”, the way it felt hearing him actually put them together like that. For a long time Sebastian had felt like he just didn’t deserve Blaine leaving anyone just to be with him. But right then, he was willing to hope.

As he opened his eyes into Blaine’s, he saw the anguished light in them, and his eyebrows screwed together. He could hear it, of course. He’d always known what Blaine’s words really meant. He could hear the beg, and he was as always tempted to give in. To comfort and care for Blaine as it’d become his second nature astonishingly fast. But something in him wasn’t so ready to let go this time around. Wanted to hold on just a little longer because it felt as though they were so close. As though he were so close to finding out what it felt like to have Blaine to himself. The mere dream of a thought made him dizzy. Blaine was everything. “Honest.” He said, then, more firmly than he’d expected himself to be able to. The brush of their knees and the warmth on his neck seeming to get him just drunk enough on the heat to keep going. “Aren’t you lying to him?” He asked, licking over his lips and feeling his own skin grow feverish as he slid even closer to Blaine. An urgent tone to his every word. “Aren’t you lying to him every day you tell him nothing’s going on? When he says my name, aren’t you lying to him when you tell him I don’t matter? You’re already hurting him, Blaine.” You’re hurting all of us. And wasn’t that the truth? “Blaine, please.” Blaine might have qualms against begging out loud but Sebastian didn’t. He’d beg for Blaine as long as he had to. If Blaine had pushed him aside, he could handle it. But what he couldn’t do was walk away when Blaine’s eyes seemed to be asking him to stay. “I get it…” He said softly, as he raised his free hand to caress Blaine’s wrist on his throat. “I get it, killer… You’re so freaking good… But sometimes.” He held his breath as he leaned in, gaze begging as he almost let their noses brush, speaking over Blaine’s lips as he let it for him to take the final step. “Sometimes we have to be a little selfish. Because sometimes being good doesn’t really help anyone.”

Blaine felt the first lines and cracks of his heart begin to shatter to pieces the longer they sat in this position.  So close but miles and miles apart because he was the one doing this to them. He stared into a sea of green that begged him to yield–begged him to love Sebastian back–begged him to let go and meet him halfway more than physically.  Everything Sebastian was asking–if it happened a year ago–Blaine knew he’d give it to him freely because it was killing him not to give it to him now.  Even if it was?  He wasn’t the only one suffering.  One look into Sebastian’s eyes was proof that Sebastian was hurting worse.  And–oh God–that was something Blaine never wanted.  For someone to hurt over him.  When his plea went ignored–Blaine’s thumb pressed in gently against the strip of skin along Sebastian’s throat it was making circles on. He debated pulling away.  Chalking this up to another mistake.  Say that he didn’t know he was looking at him the way Blaine knew he was.  Play stupid.  Play oblivious.  Everyone–including himself–knew that he could be exactly that so very often.  Maybe this time he could take advantage of it for once and get away without damaging them to the point of no return.  It was a cheat–shallow and without a doubt the opposite of his motto of courage.  But–maybe being cowardly this time was something he could forgive himself for rather than never being able to if he was the one who took the jump.

As soon as the question came–the ever-present burning in his eyes finally gave way to blurry vision and tears barely held back behind long, thick lashes.  Closer.  Sebastian slid closer then and Blaine’s skin burned underneath the feathery touch on his wrist..  The other set of fingers balled up his shirt and squeezed tight against his shoulder.  –Yes, I’m hurting him. Yes, I’m hurting you.  Who am I anymore?–  Keeping his eyes unfocused and blind as he met Sebastian’s again–a wrinkle of guilt and longing creased between his brows.  Blaine was hinging on every word he said.  Their new closeness made his heart grow warm, his lips tingle. ‘Please..,’ but the word was silent and barely caused his lips to move.  “I’m so sorry I’m hurting anyone.  I’m not good.   Good people don’t do this..”  A splash of wet fell from his jaw and hit Sebastian’s wrist when their noses brushed.  Again–he listened.  His chest hitched and his breath stopped.  Sebastian’s gaze begged as hard as he felt himself doing the same inside.  He wasn’t getting any reprieve from this–was he?  There was breath moving over his mouth.  Warm and soft and a caress of a promise if he just leaned in and did what he was too petrified to do. There’d be no going back after that.  No more times where he could say he was faithful and devoted.  Considerate and kind.  Kind people don’t lean in closer.  Kind people don’t clutch onto another boy’s shoulder when you are so, so taken.  

“I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry..”   Kind people don’t close their eyes and feel tears trickling down the bridge of their nose and not stop before you can’t feel where your breath ends and another person’s begins.  Nor to they nod and groan when the motion brushes their lips together with ones who shouldn’t be there in fidelity terms but there is no planet you want to be on where they aren’t right where you need them to be.  Here. A breath away until even that space is gone.  And you’re falling into the first taste of a mouth that has you reeling as the rest the world outside that kiss just–goes away.