#sebsta

But Sebastian wasn't there, and you were alone to deal with it. You pondered the pros and cons of telling him the next time he called you, but you feared that it might anger him, or worry him more than necessary – the last thing you wanted was for him to leave in the middle of the promo of his upcoming movie to fly back to New York because of you. In two days, it would be your six months anniversary – not that you were one of these girls who kept track or celebrated all the anniversaries, you just noticed when you saw the date and realized you had been with him for half a year now. He must have forgotten, and you didn't care, it simply made you smile nostalgically when you recalled your first date with him.

Unlike Robert, he had showed up directly at your door, looking good and fresh – almost too good to be honest, you didn't expect him to look even better than the night at the bar, but it seemed like in sunlight he was twice as handsome as in a darkly lit room with faux red velvet walls. He looked nervous, which you found hilarious given the circumstances, because you were seconds away from having a stroke. But then he reached out to take your hand, and when you touched, you felt the tension leave your shoulders, and he visibly relaxed too. He didn't come with his car – who even used his care anymore in New York in the middle of the day apart from those going to work?

“I didn't know what you liked so I figured I'd leave today free of any plans,” he explained to you. “I considered taking you bowling, or to a museum, or even the movies, but then I realized I didn't even know if you enjoyed these things-” he continued, leading you away from your building, still holding your hand.

It felt rather nice to hold his hand. It was bigger than yours, a little calloused and a lot warmer than you had expected, but it didn't feel out of place at all – you enjoyed this contact. It wasn't like holding hands when you were teenagers, it wasn't shy and awkward, it was light and enjoyable.

“-which made me think that I should get to know you first before taking you to an awkward date where you'd have to pretend to like, I don't know, Art Nouveau paintings?” He laughed heartily, a smile drawing on your face in answer to his joyful personality.

“I love Art Nouveau! Gustav Klimt is one of my favorites,” you said, making him smile even bigger.

“See? Now I know something about you – I can take you to the Klimt exhibition that takes place next week,” he cheekily told you, casually planning up ahead another date. Not that you minded the least bit – you would have been crazy to pass an opportunity to see this man again.

“So where are we going then?” You asked him, realizing you were heading to central park. When you had settled a day for your date you had asked him what you should expect so you knew what to wear and he simply told you to wear something casual and flats. You would never admit it to him but it took you half the day to find what to wear and your entire wardrobe was scattered around your floor. Eventually you settled for flat sandals, and a sleeveless light green blouse which you tucked inside high-waisted knee-length pants. You didn't want to have a bag to carry around with you, so you left your phone home and simply tucked your keys in your back pocket and a few dollars inside your bra.

“Nowhere in particular, just to the park,” he informed you. “If you don't mind of course! I know it's a little simple for a date, but-”

“A walk in the park is great, don't worry,” you laughed, easing his anxiousness.

He smiled, “I'll buy you an ice cream and we can sit by the lake and make fun of people who make boat tours and fall in the water,” he suggested.

“Agreed,” you replied. “Can we walk by the zoo?” That must have sounded quite childish, but you loved going there, despite the insane amount of tourists and kids. It made him laugh.

“Sure we can,” he said just as you arrived to the park, spotting the first of many ice cream trucks. “What's your favorite ice cream flavor?” He asked.

“Anything fruity,” you said. “Surprise me!”

He came back with a watermelon, kiwi, mango ice cream for you and that's about when you decided that he was the man of your life.

The memory had you smiling like a goof all over again, and you realized how much you missed him. You would do just about anything to be with him at this exact moment, and somehow you knew the feeling was shared, because Sebastian never forgot to call, never forgot to send you a pic when he was doing something that made him think of you, and deep down you also knew that the main reason behind your reluctance to tell him about your problems, was that you were certain that he'd drop everything to come back to you and help you deal with whatever was causing you trouble, even if the only thing he could do to help was to hold you in his arms for a while.

Your eyes drifted to your phone which was laying inches away from your plate on the table. It was turned off. Not because you didn't want to hear news from Seb – you craved those – but because of the other person calling you non stop since Sebastian left. With a sigh, you stood up, trashing the remains of your meal and stomping out of the kitchen, distancing yourself from your phone. You hopped on your bed – the desperately empty bed that didn't even smell like your boyfriend's distinctive cologne anymore – and opened your laptop, logging on skype and calling him. It took him a few minutes to answer, but his face finally popped in a new window on your scream.

“Hey love,” he greeted you sleepily.

“Hi,” you said in a gentle whisper, feeling bad for waking him up. “I'm sorry to call so early, I just needed to see you.” It wasn't even five in the morning where he was. You sincerely hoped he didn't sense the tremor in your voice.

“Everything okay?” He asked a little louder as he got up, sitting on his bed. His brows knitted together in worry when he heard the tone of your voice. It was the same tone you had when you watched Inside Out with him and Bing Bong died.

“I miss you terribly. Next time you offer to take me with you when you leave, don't let me say no,” you tried to joke, but it was pointless. By the way he looked at you, you knew that he could see right through your poor attempt at hiding your discomfort. “Sebastian-”

“I'll be back soon, I promise. Only a few more days and it'll be over,” he reminded you. “I know this is tough and it takes a toll on me too, but please, don't look at me like that or I'll never be able to leave your side again,” he told you with a tender smile. You sensed that he craved touching you as much as you did, and if he was there at this moment, he'd reach out and caress your cheek. “I love you.”

The effect that such a simply sentence had on you was astounding. It brought warmth to your entire body yet you shivered and felt the sudden and desperate need to cry. Yes, the distance between you and the man you loved was taking its toll on you and you didn't like it at all, but you knew it was his life and you would deal with it, no matter what. The circumstances had simply changed a bit since last time, and in a moment of need, you found yourself alone in the big apple, wishing the most important person in your life wasn't somewhere across the country, so far away from you.

“(Y/N), are you okay? What's wrong?” He worried and you bit on your lower lip to make it stop quivering, and swallowed down your tears.

“Nothing, I'm fine,” you did your best to make it sound believable. “I had a long week of work and I just watched The Lion King, you know I can't handle watching this movie,” you forced a laughter out of your mouth and smiled despite feeling like utter shit. Sebastian needn't worry for you, he had to focus on his job, on the promo of Civil War. You didn't see it yet but you knew this movie would change his career, you had a feeling.

“You promise you're not hiding anything from me?” He asked.

You swallowed and looked down. As much as you wanted to spare him and deal with your issue alone, you strictly refused to lie to him. At least not when it touched important matters – a little white lie here and there to prevent him from worrying too much didn't hurt.

“Nothing that can't wait your return,” you reassured him, shooting a gentle smile his way. Lucky for you, your camera was shit and you didn't need to put too much effort into that half-assed smile. “Again, I'm sorry for waking you up to early, I couldn't go on with my day without talking to you.”

“I tried calling you last night but I got your voice mail,” he replied, shrugging off your excuse. He wasn't much of a sleeper anyway, Sebastian was an early bird.

“I turned it off,” you said. “I needed quiet.”

“Alright, well I'm glad you skyped, I miss seeing your pretty face too. Chris says I'm whipped.”

“Which Chris?” You asked, laughing genuinely this time.

“Both,” he snickered. “And Scarlett and Anthony too – Anthony is the worst, he makes little kissing noises whenever I'm nearby. Actually everyone is pretty much tired of hearing me say how much I miss my girl,” he said. “Maybe they'll send me home early if I keep annoying them, whatcha think?”

“I say it's worth a shot,” you smiled, bringing your knees up and looping your arms around them. You placed your chin atop your knees and looked at him. His hair was defying gravity, he seriously needed a shower and maybe a little grooming for his growing beard. Your hands itched you from not being able to run your fingers through his hair and make his man bun for him.

“You look sad,” he pointed out. “What can I do?” Just by the way he asked the question, you knew that he was very aware of his powerlessness. He knew there wasn't anything he could do from where he was, but he wished he did, and he asked nonetheless. That alone made your heart melt.

“Of course I'm sad, Mufasa just died and the man I love isn't even there to cuddle with me,” you replied. Again, it was a white lie meant to sooth his concern. It worked and that's when you decided it had to end. You'd betray yourself if you kept this conversation going.

“I love you too,” Sebastian reminded you.

“I'll leave you to wake up properly – and shower maybe,” you chuckled, earning a groan. “Love you. See you in five days.”

He made you wait another couple minutes before letting you shut your laptop, telling you over again how much he missed you and that he would try and come back as soon as possible and then he'd watch The Lion King 2 with you. When you finally ended the skype call, you let yourself fall on the bed, sheets still in place, clothes still on and you cried yourself to sleep in the middle of a Saturday afternoon.

*

It was with your stomach upside down and a knot twisting your insides that you returned to work Monday morning, trying to pull off feeling fine and being fresh and ready for this new week. Needless to say that you struggled – but lucky for you, you were better at hiding what you thought from your co-workers than you were with Sebastian, who could read right through your forced smiles and joyless laughter. A sigh of relief immediately fell from your lips when you closed the door to your office and welcomed the quietness of the infirmary a Monday morning, when most students still tried to make it through the day and didn't try and ditch school yet.

You were in an unusual state of jumpiness since three weeks ago when all of this started. Unbeknownst to you, it began to invade your life, taking over every aspect of your routine. When your phone buzzed, you gasped in surprise, when a student knocked on the door, you dropped your pen and when the bell rang, you nearly had a heart attack. It was all getting out of hand, and you wanted nothing more than to lock your door and sit down to cry for a while, maybe even until someone became worried and tried to kick in the door. Three days. Only three more days, and Sebastian would be back. You had to convince yourself that you could do it!

After all, you were an adult. A grown, independent woman who could handle herself – which doesn't mean that you wanted to handle everything on your own – and a few more days without having your boyfriend around wouldn't kill you.

Another tremor had you letting go of your pen, and you sighed, rubbing your face with both hands in order to wake you up. Your face felt like paper to you, it felt dry and tired – possibly so because you had trouble sleeping these days – and you'd bet you looked like a mummy. The girl who came in this morning because she cut her thumb open gave you a weird look that you weren't quite over yet. It felt like eighth grade when you had braces all over again.

A knock on the door. Your heart beats significantly sped up as you gulped down and swiftly bend down to pick up your pen before telling them to come in. Air was knocked out of your lungs when you saw a man's hand slip inside to open your door. It was only when you saw Mr.Gregson's kind face that you relaxed and realized just how terrified you were every time this same door opened.

“Oh, hello,” you greeted him, feeling better to see a familiar face. He was the History teacher, an aging man always making sure nobody felt forgotten. “What can I do for you?”

“Hello (Y/N),” he smiled, wrinkles appeared at the corner of his eyes and his gray mustache twitching upwards along with his lips. “You don't seem too busy, I hope I'm not interrupting anything,” he said, always the polite gentleman.

“Monday is not the busiest of days for me,” you said, smiling and gathering your papers in front of you.

“Good, good,” he said. His hand went up to fiddle with his mustache. “As you know we have a new recruit today,” he started, referring to the new art teacher who replaced the former, very pregnant Mrs.Carlton. “Like always, we'd like to have a little gathering to welcome her in our school and I was hoping you would join us,” he finished.

You blinked a couple times. This was the first time you were invited to this kind of parties – you knew they occurred but you never felt like it was your place to go since you weren't a teacher and only worked here part time, when you weren't at the hospital.

“I- euh-” you mumbled, not knowing what to say. “When is it? I'll have to see if I'm free,” you asked him, allowing you a little more time to think about it. He would be there.

“Next week,” Mr.Gregson answered, letting go of his perfectly groomed mustache. “We'll be having coffee at the usual place. You know where it is?”

“Yes, I know,” you nodded, although you had no idea. You had decided you wouldn't go. “I- I'll discuss this with my boyfriend. He's coming back from a three-weeks work thing and he'll probably want to catch up,” you declared, trying to hint that you wouldn't come.

“Oh,” Mr.Gregson pouted. “Well, I'm happy for you. If you decide to drop by, it's at five, right after class on Friday,” he informed you.

After a few more minutes of small talk and polite questions about your life and how you were doing, he left with a nod and gently closed your door, leaving you once again alone. You stood up and started browsing through your files, searching for a student's file in particular when suddenly the door opened again.

“Did you forget someth-” you started, expecting Mr.Gregson to be back, maybe to tell you something he forgot to mention. But it wasn't Mr.Gregson who stood in your door frame when you turned around.

“(Y/N),” Robert said, closing the door behind him as he steps inside your office without being invited to do so. “It's nice to see you.”

You didn't say anything and simply looked at him, not knowing what to expect from the man.

“If I didn't know you, I'd say you're avoiding me,” he laughed in a way you could only describe as threatening and incredibly inappropriate. You figured you would be left alone during work, but once again you were prove wrong. “How have you been? Haven't you gotten my texts?”

And his calls, and his voice mails, and his constant harassing! You thought.

“My phone died. I had to get a new one,” you lied, hoping that he would simply stop trying to reach you through your phone if he thought you changed your number. Which you would eventually have to do in case he did not stop.

“That sucks,” he commented, his hands in his pockets while walking around your office, detailing everything. “What happened?”

“It fell in the water,” you shrugged. Your tone was about as harsh as it could get but you couldn't prevent the tremor in voice from happening.

“You know if you put it in a bag of rice it'll dr-”

“Too late, I threw it away,” you brushed him off, trying to put an end to this exchange as fast as you could without angering him too much. You stood behind your desk, the tip on your fingers resting on your desk to give you balance. You quivered in your boots.

“Ah,” he said, bringing his lips in a thin, horizontal line, as if he was displeased with what you just told him. “Well, never mind,” he suddenly brightened up. “I left you a message, asking if you wanted to come with me to the movies tomorrow night, then we coul-”

“No, Robert,” you said bravely, holding up his gaze even though you were about to burst out of your skin. You felt your face become redder and hotter by the second, and your palm sweaty and fidgetty. He looked pissed and you were alone in a room with him. You forced yourself to breath normally and calm down. You were at your workplace, he wouldn't do anything here, would he?

“No?” He repeated, his voice lower than before. He stepped closer to you, invading your personal space. “You know, our little game is getting boring. Why are you still pushing me away?” He frowned, as if sincerely confused by the mixed signals he though you were sending him.

“Miss (Y/L/N)!” Someone burst into your office at this exact moment. Two students entered, one of them bleeding from his forehead.

“Oh God!” You exclaimed, rushing past Robert to tend to the hurt kid. “What happened?”

“He tripped while doing an experiment in chemistry and he fell on a shred of glass!” The other student rambled at a fast pace, looking panicked and about to pass out.

The hurt one seem oddly more calm and you mentally thanked them for their timing, despite feeling a little bad about being happy that a student fell on a piece of cutting glass. Robert seemed to understand that this was his cue and he left, only saying a little “I'll leave you to work Miss (Y/N),” before exiting the office, leaving you to patch up the poor kid and his gash on the forehead. At least, he'll have a cool scar, and you'd also let him go home a few days to thank him for cutting short your conversation with Robert and his pervert attitude.

Shortly after the parents of your wounded student came to pick him up, you went out to grab something to eat, settling on a pasta box instead of going to the school's restaurant where all the staff ate every day. The urge to cry was still present, but once again you swallowed back your tears and convinced yourself that it was unprofessional and that you over-reacted. Maybe it wasn't even half as terrible as you made it sound? Maybe you were seeing things and Robert was just being an overly needy friend? Maybe he was just as alone as that?

Or maybe you weren't over-reacting, and he was really the pretentious creep who tried to get into your pants even though he knew you were happily taken and not interested in him. Maybe he was dangerous, and the only way for you to cope with the current situation was to pretend that it wasn't as serious as it was. Now you were just over-thinking it.

The rest of the day went by quickly, and no more incidents occurred – whether it was student related or anything else. Went the clock indicated five, you loudly closed the file you were filling in and gathered your things, eager to go home and leave before everyone else, so you wouldn't have to see anyone at the backdoor. Most teachers stayed a few more minutes to chat a bit and smoke a cigarette before heading home. You rushed out, purse in one hand, coat hand close with the other. When you stepped out, it was like a tornado out there. It rained to hard you couldn't even hear the usual noise of the city – the car, the honks, the people talking on the phone – and the wind made it impossible to open your umbrella without upturning it and you gave up after trying three times.

You cursed yourself for wearing heels today – boots, but heels nonetheless. And you started stomping on the sidewalk, as fast as your impractical shoes allowed you to and still firmly held your coat close while protecting your precious purse from the rain.

An awfully familiar shiver ran down your spine, making you freeze on the spot regardless of the downpour. You felt him. His eyes were on you, you'd bet your life on it. But when you peeked over your shoulder you saw nothing but the empty sidewalk and a homeless person sitting under a porch. You resumed your walk, and only a block down the street, you felt it again, and this time you  gave frenetic looks around you, when suddenly you saw him.

Or more specifically, his car. He was following you in his car. That was downright the most frightening thing that ever happened to you, and your blood ran cold in your veins, leaving you prostrate and dry-mouthed. Such fear was unknown to you, and before you could gather your wits, you started running. Heels or not heels, this was a 'run for your life' situation, and the adrenaline pumping through your veins made your forget the pain, and suddenly you turned in a small alley, and then turned again, taking those shady little streets you avoided at all costs any other day, to get to your apartment faster. And the relief you felt when you saw your door was such that you started crying, though the rain hid the treacherous tears.

You hated that feeling for weakness that overwhelmed you when you spotted his car. Furthermore, you hated how belittled you felt in his presence. You hated that he was a man, and he was tall and stronger than you, and that you would have to tell Sebastian because you were scared and didn't know who else to turn to.

When you ran inside your apartment, the sudden quietness and warmth took you aback, as if you had started to get used to being in a constant state of uncertainty and always on your guard. You shut the door and let your purse fall to the floor, along with your drenched coat and you could care less about putting water everywhere. The tear kept streaming down your cheeks, and you felt like a thousand bricks weighted on your shoulders. Your chest rose up and down unevenly and your breath caught in your throat. How miserable you must look!

“(Y/N)?” Someone called from the other end of your apartment.

You stood in your doorway, hands running over your face and through your wet hair, eyes haphazardly looking around for some sort of weapon, anything to defend yourself. You felt your heart clutch and shrink at the though that he might have gotten here before you and was waiting for you in your room or something equally as terrifying and disturbing.

You still hadn't found anything to grab when a moving form caught your eye and you jumped backward, your back slamming against the closed door in fear.

“(Y/N),” the man repeated, and you visibly relaxed when you saw Sebastian standing there. He looked like he just arrived – his shoes were still on – and he wore a beaming smile until his eyes settles on you, shrunken in fear, looking scared beyond words, crying silently. “Oh my God, (Y/N),” he said, running to you as you did the same.

When your bodies collided in the middle of your living room, you felt the air coming back to your lungs. He didn't care that you were drenched to the bone, he didn't care about the cold or the water, Sebastian only wanted to know what caused you to be in such a frenzy.

“What happened?” He asked. “No, you don't have to tell me right now. It's alright. I'm here, it's alright,” he started ushering in your ear as you kept on wetting his shirt with rain and tears. “Please tell me you're not hurt. Please, (Y/N), tell me you're fine,” he pleaded you when he pulled back and met your tear-filled eyes.

“I'm fine,” you breathed out. “I'm fine, Sebastian,” you nodded, smiling despite all the tears and your troubled vision. “I'm so happy to see you, so happy...” you rambled, shaking your head in disbelief, your hands gripping at his shirt as if you were scared he'd disappear if you let go.

“I came home early, I thought I might surprise you and-” he stopped. “God, (Y/N), I knew something was wrong but if I knew-” he paused again, looking hurt and concerned but most importantly, glad to see you and to know you were alright. “God, (Y/N),” he repeated. “You had me seriously worried for a second, please tell me what's going on. If there's anything I can do- wait we'll get you dry clothes first, or maybe a hot shower, yeah? Sounds good? You can tell me everything while I take care of you.”

Sebastian kept on rambling about how glad he was to see you and how he'd make coffee for both of you after your shower and then he'd cuddle the shit out of you until you felt better. And you let him do, because you were too exhausted, emotionally and physically, to say or do anything right now.