( lost boy )

She didn’t have an answer for him. The words had some out before she could properly filter them, or carefully piece them together into something alluring but unclear. It was a constant that came with Sebastian – Honesty. Leaving her with an inability to put on a facade and a smile, the only thing come from her either being what she was thinking, or silence, to prevent the former. They were a complicated subject, in painfully simple terms. Chessie couldn’t help but feel responsible for most of the complication, given that she created the radio silence between them, as well as a lack of explanation each and every time. “I don’t know,” Three words eventually pass her lips after a moment too long, giving a weak answer to an honest question. She wasn’t evading giving him an answer – In truth, she was trying to, as he put it, put some sense into all of this, too. “I’m still figuring that part out.” The second half of her answer follows in a voice just as quiet, leaving her resisting the urge to squirm.

Years ago, Chessie would have been the one leading the charge into this conversation, telling him every thought floating around her head without any sort of hesitation. She was trying to find that side of her again, to find the courage to let herself be open and vulnerable once again, but now – The latter scared her enough to make her want to give a terrible excuse and leave. Somehow, by some miracle – She didn’t. Another pause found her, sitting between them for a bit longer than she’d like, while Chessie tried to work through her own emotions. “I’m tired of running away from my own life, and I’m tired of living like I’m holding my breath,” The words had run through her mind so many times, keeping her awake. But letting them out into the world, letting them be real somehow made her feel lighter. Chessie knew better than to think it’d last. “So, I – I don’t know. I’m just – Trying to be honest with you.”

Sebastian spotted the slight exit door and sneaked out with masterful grace, getting them both out of a situation by far too gentle for their minds. He with his bandaged hand couldn’t hold anything together in that moment. He looked down and then cut her off when it was no longer rude to, by the end of the confession. ”It’s unimportant anyway.” Though harsh-sounding, he meant it that definitions weren’t a mandatory thing for them and that they would still behave freely no matter the amount of desire and love mixed into the cocktail glass. ”No rush. I’ll be here whenever. You’re the one who sometimes leaves, but even if you leave, I’ll be here forever.” He wasn’t sad, as sad as it was, however.

”Yeah, I’m sorry you run, but at least you’re staying fit, right?” Seb attempted a weak joke, simper hardly holding on through it. He understood the conflict exploding at firework speed inside of her, not because he personally recognized it, but because he trusted Francesca through her feelings and how she described it somehow touched him too, like a deeper empathy, only for her. Somehow, when she looked this sad, he seconded the mood without the slightest intention. ”I appreciate. And I’m sorry about the running. If it helps, I do think you’re running in circles, so you’re not going anywhere either. Not really.” There it was, his most successful type of conversation: small words, senseless metaphors with tired meanings and a fake-deep allure to it that he mastered. Without knowing it, he enjoyed finally speaking with Chessie something a little above dirty words, for a change. 

Seb didn’t have the slightest patience to sit around the house, even with a bottle of wine between his thighs and the warmth of a chimney - fake or not, he hadn’t been able to tell from under the alcohol haze. Even without a jacket, he refused to give up on his every fifteen minutes cigarette breaks, going outside the house in a dark red sweater even he didn’t like. Dragging for his cigarette, he whistled as he heard somebody walk outside as well. He assumed that he knew whoever would leave the place for a refreshingly cold breath of air, but at a careful glance, he realized he was wrong, though the young man’s face didn’t seem unfamiliar either. 

‘‘Okay, quick question. What did you ask for from Santa this year?’‘ Childishly, Sebastian didn’t even fully realize that, even as a joke, the question must have sounded odd to hear from a stranger. Still, he kept his smile on, awaiting for something to start a conversation from. 

Both his lateness and the ugly sweater he was wearing were unfashionable to the core, but Sebastian insisted on making an entrance, knocking boldly on a door half hostile to him after changing his mind forty times about attending. Angel and demon on his shoulder, both Francesca and Ophelia weighed in for his decision, but he figured that the first cancelled the second’s presence no matter what. He knocked and even his fist reeked of Jagermeister. Still, he managed to arrive, late into the evening, but early enough for his standards. 

‘‘I just wanted to say that all I want for Christmas is you,’‘ he raised a finger to add as soon as the front door opened, proud of himself for the purposefully cheesy introduction, before he could even see who he was talking to. That was half of the fun in his mind, actually. ‘‘I also am freezing outside. I thought I wouldn’t need a coat, but the warmth of the Uber car lied to me.’‘ His explanation was what he thought was coherent, though words flew out of his mouth one at a time, disconnected.

CHESSIE: My driver’s about to be here, so I’m about to leave

CHESSIE: Don’t get used to it. 😉

SEB: It's fine, you know I don't generally mind losing anyway

CHESSIE: That sounds better than House Hunters.

CHESSIE: On my way.

Years lived in between the times they’d had a conversation like – Open, honest, truthful. Not an argument, no raised voices nor hurtful words thrown without thought. It reminded her why she had been so in love with him in the first place. Sebastian wasn’t the type to play games, not in the way plenty of their peers and friends did. The way Chessie’s done before. It had always surprised her, given he’s the son of a politician – Part of her wondered if he’d end up able to lie like an good Senator could. Even if Chessie couldn’t bare admit to it, but she was more similar to her mother than she had been in years before; The two women fought for different extremes, but their need for control and distaste for change served as proof that they were cut from the same cloth. Thanksgiving had been a show of that. While their conversation had been brief, nearly non-existent, it brought up far too many things Chessie desired to keep from resurfacing. She didn’t want to live her life like that – Carefully omitting information, holding in secrets until she felt like she couldn’t breathe. Add in Celia’s death, and the fact that Sebastian had been caught in the cross-fire (no pun intended), and Chessie found herself taking a different direction.

He listened to her without question, and Chessie gave him the same courtesy. He had a point – She didn’t have to ask his permission for anything, nor were they together. They didn’t belong to one another, even if they shared a long and complicated history, often ending up in the arms of one another on more than one occasion. She had tried to put the thought of the sex tape out of her mind, but hearing his apology reminded her of just how upset she’d been that night. His words held truth – It wasn’t something personal, not an attempt to hurt her. Just an unfortunate lining up of fate, and Celia’s handy work. It was a matter of being in the right place at the wrong time.

Chessie paused for a moment, nodding as he finished to signal that she understood, even if she was unsure of where to begin. She said her piece, and even though she had her moment of truth – It wasn’t easy to keep it going. Hell, it had taken her two months to even admit the truth to him face to face. “I don’t want Bishop,” were the first words that came out in reply. She had thought for a moment that she did – But there was a realization that she was just thrilled by the adrenaline of it, fueled by the in the cocaine that was in her system while they were together. Even with Sebastian’s blessing, it didn’t ease her guilt. The truth of the matter was that she didn’t want to be with Bishop, nor did she want to be with any of her other intoxicated one night stands. She’d spent years running from Sebastian, but now that they were back in the same city, back in each other’s lives – Feelings Chessie had suppressed with booze, coke, and forgotten lovers found her once more. Their relationship had ended years ago, but it didn’t stop her from holding a candle for him. “I want you.” It was unclear what he’d say to her, if he’d even say anything at all – Even if he had moved on entirely, even if it only thickened the tension in the air, Sebastian still deserved a little honesty from her.

It simplified a factor in his mind, but the breath out he took was not a relieved one. It didn’t solve the puzzle in his chest, where breathing got difficult and the situation suffocated him with sand. It didn’t change fact, but there was some implied subtext in that first confession that anticipated what would come next, moments later. That was where Sebastian’s eyes widened in doe-like surprise, always a little lost, as he was. Good at improvising, he wasn’t the person to bite his tongue and forget his lines, but there lied the exception, fed by the delicacy of the situation, the fact that everything had come crashing down not long ago and a general uncertainty he felt about about everything, until he was sure. Not knowing which words to use and not only how to phrase it, but also how to feel it, Sebastian did his one talent and smiled with warmth, implying either a friendly indulgence or mirroring her confession. 

Did he want Chessie? He would argue that not all of the time, not exclusively. Granted, whenever she called or they met, chances were that the ending would be generic and cliche, but he was afraid of her mistaking desire for love. Afraid of him making the same mistake, one way or the other. They were resurrecting a fossil of a conversation, expecting to hear a heartbeat. Or maybe it was the heartbeat waking them up in the middle of the night to dig for the vintage feeling. He didn’t know and couldn’t say.  “Chessie, you know you are a princess to me, but I’m not sure what exactly you want from me. Don’t think I’m trying to get rid of you. I’m trying to put some sense into all these things.“

CHESSIE: It's cold. Come over.

CHESSIE: Plus, House Hunters is on.

SEB: I can't. I'm getting ready for a bath.

Rowan hated when people said they ‘hated funerals’. Nobody liked funerals- it was like saying you hated being stung by bees, or hated breaking your arm- no shit Sherlock. Still, as he’d stood in the dreary weather at the cemetery, leather jacket pulled over his dark suit, the only two things that had been on his mind had been how much he loathed the overly formal ceremony, and how badly he needed a drink if he was going to get through the night without losing his mind. 

So he’d left immediately after the ceremony, unable to face the reception, and had drove around the city smoking cigarette after cigarette before he’d clapped eyes on the familiar neon of Ruby’s and pulled over without considering it too long. A little quieter, a little run down, but so packed full of memories of him and his old friends that he could barely look around without remembering all the drunken mischief. So when he saw Sebastian sitting at a table- or rather the table- it seemed oddly right that they both had found themselves at Ruby’s. Ordering a glass of crown, he made his way towards Sebastian, sitting in his old spot near the corner of the room.

“Hey.” He greeted in a voice just loud enough to be heard over the chatter. “Some coincidence huh? I haven’t been back here in years.” Since the last time it’d been the four of them, in fact. 

His heart almost jumped off his chest when his train of thought got interrupted. Though a series of mellow, abstract, not necessarily relevant thoughts were crossing his mind, he paid full attention: to the wood of Celia’s coffin, to how an old man at the bar was sitting strangely, to the last bill note and to all the burning sequins that got buried in the Blur. Rowan was still nice company, despite anything and everything, but the moment caught Seb off guard. He still smiled, after hours of black, like it was a reflex. And it was. 

A passive smile, announcing that Seb wasn’t truly there, rather than a mile higher, covered his lips. “I come here all of the time. Now more than ever. Where else could I drink?“ he simpered weakly, with the corners of his mouth twisted upside down. “You’ll find that nothing has changed.“ For that, Sebastian was thankful, always stuck in the past, with his silly thirst for melancholy and a memory that could store only the good. 

“But why tonight? Did you follow me inside to keep me company?“ the sarcasm didn’t bite, for Sebastian would always hope the answers to such questions to be affirmative.