inthequiver.

                                              ❝why didn’t you?’ sebastian spoke nearly over blaine’s words, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. why HADN’T the boy refused? sebastian hadn’t exactly done anything to make him want to help him. ‘i never asked for your sanctified help.’ the teachers had been the one to INSIST he needed tutoring, actually it’d been the dean himself whom had talked to him, saying he’d hate to have to cut his star athlete from his star team, and that he’d take measures to avoid it. those measures sebastian had learned only the next day, came in the form of a helping nerd. 

‘of course you do. i’m surprised, anderson, honestly. feels good getting the upper-hand for once, doesn’t it? and here i thought your heart was as pure as an episode of care bears. i’m déçue.’ he ticked his tongue, pointedly. honestly, he knew blaine didn’t meant it like that, but he also thought there was part of him that DID enjoy it like that, and what he didn’t say was he found nothing wrong with it. it amused him that the other would probably deny him, because HE did. he wondered if that was part of what annoyed him so much on the prim boy: his unwillingness to accept even his most basic killer instincts. the nice facade got boring. and, truthfully, sebastian enjoyed the sight of that other  side of him a great deal more.

the small grimace on blaine got him to smirk. he loved messing with him, so much, partially because it was so visible how his small comments made the other feel. it was a sadistic inclination, but it also stung him, as his own mouth confirmed every little thing his brain had ever thought about himself. it was different when he was tearing down someone who actually DESERVED it, of course. he had no qualms about that. but if he was willing to be honest, blaine had never actually done anything to him, nothing other than… 

‘you’re perfect.’ he burst out, unplanned, but kept his poker face on, with a twist of lips, so the other wouldn’t know he’d just slipped.  he might had said something else, and mocked him again, but since he’d started, he shrugged and went on with it. ‘don’t you ever exhaust yourself being the perfect, golden, boy? i’m the only one in this entire campus who doesn’t fawn and trips over every time you speak. it’s exasperating, not to mention boring. whenever you talk to me, it’s the only time you look even human. people might enjoy the good guy, bust their own egos, thing. but i like you just like this.’ he smirked. he was so much better to look at when he had his feathers ruffled. ‘and i do try to upgrade my surroundings whenever i can. it’s a burden i’ve got to carry.’ he said it all with nonchalance, and barely even looking at blaine, as though the subject itself bored him already. ‘so, moral compass, if you can stop trying to reach your long life ambition to become a talking cricket around me, you can follow me back to the dorms, and we can get this done, and i won’t bother your stepford life again. if not… then i’m on my way. alone. and feel free to talk to dean weatherby about it.’ 

      “Because I thought that maybe you might’ve needed my help and even if you enjoy tearing me down as much as you obviously do?  If I could help you..,” maybe you’d stop.  Maybe you’d see that this is cruel.  But he couldn’t say the words.  They were right there, on the tip of his tongue, but fell silent and dissipated into nothing but his teeth snagging his bottom lip as he waited for some stroke of nerve to build back up inside. Then again?  What good would it do? Sebastian already made a very valid point.  If he didn’t go through with what he, idiotically, said he would?  The Warblers might suffer for his blunder of attempting to make the person that hated him most hate him a little less.  

Why was Sebastian’s opinion so important?  Blaine would love to chalk it up to the notion that since he was a kid, pleasing people became his way of feeling wanted.  He’d love to dismiss it as a means of making his years here as great as they were before he ever encountered Sebastian Smythe in the first place.  He’d love to rationalize every time he felt like he was being drug through the mud and ended up hitting about a dozen rocks along the way with each taunt and outright loathing he saw in Sebastian’s eyes when he met them away.  Give himself the excuse that Sebastian was so miserable that making him feel just as awful was the boy’s way of dealing with something BIGGER.  

But, truthfully, it hurt anyway.  Took him back to the weeks before he left his old school and how walking those halls made his throat tight and his chest in a vice grip.  It was a humiliation that ran deep, turned the ache to anger.  A bright, burning anger that curled his fingers into white-knuckled fists just like they were twisting into without him realizing it until his nails bit into his palms.  The smirk he saw only made it worse.  Sebastian was enjoying seeing him get mad.  Of course he would.  “How do you think any of this is me having the upperhand? Tell me why—.”

‘You’re perfect..’  Blaine’s heart felt like it stopped beating.  Why did Sebastian say that?  Why did he feel those words so deep?  Why did it affect him the way it did?  Sebastian didn’t mean that.  Perfect?  No way.  Sebastian hated him, could never see him like that.  Why’d he use that word?  When all that Blaine’s ever wanted to be was exactly that..  Flaws and all.  Because he knew he has so many he tries to desperately hide out of fear of being ALONE that sometimes he’s stupid enough to forget they are there and his life is perfect.  Until someone reminds him otherwise.  Blaine’s eyes went from fiery to soft and his mouth dropped open with another question that would never see the light of day before it was snuffed out with what came next. And his dignity suddenly felt like it was torn to shreds so fast it left him dizzy and confused why it mattered so much in the first place.  

Thankful that Sebastian took his gaze elsewhere, Blaine’s face crumbled and his shoes became the only thing he could let himself see. Palming away the look, he filled the empty air with an exasperated sigh.  “Yeah..  Let’s go.  I need,” the word came as a quiet slip and one that he snapped back with a correction of so fast that two words nearly became one, “want to get this over with as soon as possible.”  Then caught up to walk beside him, keeping his attention on the stained glass windows they walked past instead wishing he was anywhere else but here.  Half-thinking out loud, half not bothering to cover up the question he couldn’t shake.  “So..  That’s what you think of me?  That I’m fake?  Stepford personality-ish?  That’s what you see me as?”