flower boy

An awkward chuckle filters out of him at seeing Desmond barely able to hold onto the last strands of his balance. His hand hovers near the other’s arm, in case a rescue was needed to keep the other on his feet and he ignores the sarcasm in the other’s words as he gives him a bright chuckle. 

“You kind of look like it as well,” he says, gaze roaming over the empty street. “Give me a minute,” he mutters before he goes to gather his bike from where it was discarded in the middle of the road. “Come on, can you walk?” Sebastian makes with a friendly smile as soon as he is back by the other’s side. “I’m making sure you get some sleep tonight and loads of water, okay?” he offers with a gentle chuckle, hand reaching for the other’s arm to pry him away from the pole Desmond has made friends with. 

His glasses feel crooked, and he wonders if they’re bent.  He’s a little nauseous, not a lot, but that seems to be getting worse by the moment. He stumbles a bit because the world feels as tipsy as he is, just as off kilter. when the other reaches out to him, he can’t help but hold on. 

When he finally grabs him, he’s just barely got a hold of his sleeve. It’s pretty soft, actually. But definitely not enough to support himself on. He reaches a little further, and gets an okay grip on the guy’s elbow, and figures that’s enough to let go of the pole he was steadying himself on.

“I... don’t think I’ll puke bu’ the world is definitely spinning... it would be good to lie down.”

@nymphxlis​  /  ♡ ‘d

            “  fuck  ,  you scared me  !!  ”  he pressed his back against the wall  ,  palm pressed against his chest as if to calm his heart  .  “  if you were here  ,  you coulda said something  !!  ”  he said  ,  but to the other’s defense … he did have his earphones on  .

@nymphxlis​​ // Sebastian for Desmond. 

The tiredness of the day only now presses on his shoulders, making his tense and sore, especially when his mind wanders to the next few days. For the first time in forever, Sebastian feels like he has spread himself too thin, however he can’t back out hallway through the semester from the extra classes he has chosen to take this year. Just as he is about to internally lament more about his life, the sound of what seems angry voices wafts to him and he slows down his pedalling just in time to catch the whole affair. He doesn’t recognise him at first, basking in the poorly lit glow of the darkened streets, however as he stops to watch him get kicked out from the bar, Sebastian puts a name to the face. Desmond - always sits a few rows behind him, has never jumped at the chance of having Sebastian’s attention lavished on him. 

With a leap, the bike is left behind and his steps bring him closer to the silhouette who is currently raging - Sebastian can guess - at the bouncer. He presents an appeasing smile to the tall man, slotting himself to the side of his class mate, an arm wrapped around his shoulders. 

“You need some help, Desmond?” he asks, turning his bright grin towards the bouncer now. “He’s my friend, thanks for looking after him,” he says as he presents a cute smile, before beckoning Desmond away from the bar. “Hey, you okay? Like… You don’t look good?” he says, a tinge of worry in his voice as he inspects the other, spotting the bruise on his cheek. 

To say it was a fight would be generous. Desmond wasn’t a fighter, he was just an idiot, really, who didn’t like when people felt comfortable using slurs in a public place. So he picked an unwinnable fight, lost miserably, and got kicked out for trying. Really, he is just fucking stupid.

He skids to a stop on the sidewalk, barely stopping himself from a faceplant by clinging to a street sign as he knocks into it. The world isn’t spinning just yet, but does seem to be swaying a bit. He holds on for dear life, waiting for the floor to stop moving.

The fight has gone out of him. He wants to holler at the bouncer to throw out the other guy too, but before he can even take a breath to yell, there’s someone at his side, gently easing him off the sign and supporting his unsteady footing.

Desmond recognizes him a little. It’s a hazy night, blurred by bad neons and bad choices, but he thinks he knows this guy from some horticulture class.

real talk i can’t throw out any open starters because i don’t know what to do with desmond in his main real world verse. the country has gone fucking insane and he’s struggling to know what he wants to do with his life, and that’s just too existential for a lighthearted open.

                          YOU  SOUND  LIKE  THE  WORLD'S  BIGGEST  IDIOT.   you  also  probably  look  like  it,   because  the  answer  brightens  your  day  immensely  and  you  can't  hide  the  little  smile  that  creeps  up.   you're  giddy  and  it's  horrifying.   you  try  to  downplay  it.

and  then  you  feel  as  though  you've  been  set  aflame  with  embarrassment.   ❛   uh,   to  be  honest,   when  i  said  drinks  i  meant  soda  ‘cos  i'm  not  really   …   old  enough.   ❜   that  smile  you  had  turns  sheepish   (   old  enough  to  get  your  ass  kicked,   but  not  old  enough  for  peach  crown   )   and  almost  melts  away.    ❛   i  hope  that  doesn't  change  your  mind.   i  mean,   it's  fine  if  not  but,   i  mean  it  wouldn’t,   y'know.   yeah.   ❜

A laugh bubbles in his chest, comes out as only a little chuckle, but his smile is genuine, and warm. What a dork. Desmond brushes his hair back in a vague attempt to flirt.

“No, of course not! I don’t really care where we go, I just wanted the excuse to hang out with you. As long as you’re fine with that?”