#whyiam

Sebastian

On Friday, Sebastian got home in record time, darted into the kitchen, grabbed a TyNant and the snack plate that Marie always left him before she got done for the day, and hurried upstairs before his little sister could catch him and talk his ear off.

Apparently, he wasn’t quick enough, because just as he was setting the plate of prosciutto and gruyere pinwheels with sliced papaya down on the side of his desk, the sound of tiny feet thundering up the stairs caught his attention. He took an extra step and locked his door. The pounding of her tiny fists against his door came a moment later.

“Go away, fetus! I’m busy!” he yelled.

“Bastian! Bastian! Bastian! Lemme in!” she squealed in between giggles, mangling his name.

“SEBastian,” he muttered, sitting in his computer chair and swirling around to prop his feet on a footstool. Clarisse continued to pound on his door and whine while Sebastian checked Facebook like a deprived crack addict (the teachers at Dalton took phones away during class if they saw them out).

Eventually, Sebastian heard Marie scolding Clarisse for making “sooch a rookus!” and presumed that Marie had carried her away. Clarisse was only five years old, but Sebastian was sure she had ADHD or one of those personality disorders that would soon result in her cutting up cats or hiding people’s ears in her toy box.

“Y’had to marry a teenager, didn’t’cha, dad?” Sebastian grumbled. There wasn’t too much of interest on Facebook. Not among his friends, and not on the walls of the other show choirs he was stalking. He’d expanded his plans to other groups that the Warblers would be up against, but since their Sectionals competition wasn’t very strong, he’d spent less time thinking about reconnaissance.

In any case, it was easier to motivate the boys when it came to a single rival, rather than  splitting their focus to give a damn about another group with a vaguely sexual name. Being up against Nude Erections and the Blow Jobs for Regionals was really, really enough.

Sebastian took a long sip of his TyNant and picked up a slice of papaya as he scanned over Kurt’s page. Something had happened. He wasn’t sure what, but Blaine had left several messages that week.

r we still on for tnght? ;)

I’m a coffee zombie. BEAAAANS. Kurt had replied.

Sebastian covered his lips. He was not laughing at something that silly.

u kno what i mean, Blaine had continued.

Then, the next day, Blaine had written on Kurt’s wall again, asking if Kurt was tired, if he’d gotten enough sleep. Then, later that day, he made a post about hand lotion. Kurt made a noncommittal comment about the usefulness of the brand that Blaine kept by his bed, then said he’d message him on chat. By Wednesday, Blaine was asking him over for coffee again, but Kurt didn’t answer. He probably had answered that in the chat, too.

Sebastian ran his fingers back and forth over his lips. Come over for coffee. Then tired, then lotion...

“Oh, they’re fucking,” Sebastian said with disgust.

Not that it was any of his business. Not that he cared. Kurt was a label queen of questionable taste, and Blaine was a small town brat with delusions of grandeur. What did he care if they had sweaty, awkward sex together while Blaine irreparably stained Kurt’s faux designer sheets with his raspberry-scented hair gel?

“Gross.” Sebastian made a face of disgust and put down the pinwheel he’d been about to bite into. He rose and went to his closet to pick out his outfit.

It took an embarassing amount of time to select what he wanted to wear. He’d laid something out the day before, but he was dissatisfied with it. After wiping his mouth, he tried on a few of his sweaters, then a shirt/sweater vest combo. He decided he looked like a pedo art teacher who rapped in his spare time. So he stripped it off.

Why did he care so damn much what he looked like, when the only people watching him tonight would be classless public school kids and a label queen who couldn’t afford the labels?

Sebastian stood in front of his mirror, shirtless, for several minutes. If he were going out to the club, he would wear a polo and a regular pair of pants. But he could hear Kurt’s voice in his head at all of his usual selections:

“How typical. Did you get them at Smug Douche Outfitters?”

“Ugh.” Sebastian’s lip curled up and he shook his head at himself.

Going back to his closet, he put his hands on his hips and scrutinized the hanging shirts and pants closely. Finally, he pulled out one of this dress shirts (blue) and a fitted vest with embossed buttons (slate gray). Normally he would’ve worn it to a formal event, but today, he donned both items, rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt to mid-forearm, and then pulled on a pair of worn (snug) jeans. Then he went into the bathroom connected to his bedroom and brushed out his hair. He could coif it up a bit better.

“No CW hair tonight, Princess.”

---

“Wow,” Nick said when he spotted Sebastian. His eyes raked over Sebastian as he strolled forward from his car.

“You still trying to snag Blaine?” Trent asked.

“Not even in the slightest.” Sebastian looked around at the group of boys (and a few of their girlfriends from Crawford) milling around in Wes’s front yard. “Is this everyone? Who do we have driving?”

To save on gas, Sebastian had convinced the boys to carpool, which meant he spent the next few minutes counting everyone off and sending them into the bigger vehicles. His Audi wasn’t huge, but he could fit four comfortably, and so selected Nick, David, August, and Neil, to make sure he had the most entertaining conversationalists out of the group.

“No matter what happens tonight,” David said from the backseat, “I would really prefer that we keep things classy.”

Sebastian made a noise in his throat. He should’ve swapped David for Andre.

“I’m serious. Tonight, we’re representatives of Dalton Academy. So it’s not in our best interests to start things. No sneaking around in their hallways, no sabotaging the actors or the sound, or.. costumes...”

“David, I’m Machiavellian, not evil,” Sebastian said. “What do you think I’m going to do, show up and take in the leading lady’s costumes by an inch to make her freak out about gaining weight? Change all their background music to Gregorian chanting?”

“Maybe not, but you should,” Nick said. “Because that would be hilarious.”

“Stop,” David admonished.

“I think it’s enough that we’re gonna all be able to scope out the competition,” August said. “That way when our musical launches later this month, we and the Crawford girls can be confident.”

Sebastian nodded, although he’d declined to audition for the musical. He had enough on his plate, between leading the Warblers, espionage, lacrosse, and now the debate team. Besides, he’d done West Side Story before, and he wasn’t particularly interested in any of the leads right now. He definitely wasn’t interested in playing back-up to anyone this year.

August and Neil continued to discuss the goings on of the play, and which girls were fighting with one another. Apparently their Maria and Anita were madly in love but having some kind of dramatic relationship, and Anita was pissed that Maria had a rep for being the lady-killer around the school, and had within the past year deflowered Francesca AND the girl who had come in at the last moment to play Officer Krupke.

“Good God, you guys. You’re a bunch of clucking hens back there,” Sebastian groaned.

Nick laughed. “Ignore him. Sebastian’s in withdrawal.”

“I’m not a tweaked out twinkie, Nick.”

“Ass withdrawal. He needs some good ass,” Nick continued gravely.

Sebastian deliberately gave the car a swerve.

“Whoa!” August said.

“Hey, man! Take it easy!” Neil said.

“I don’t need to hear about the quality of ass I’m getting,” Sebastian said. “I’ve got enough going on. I’ll take care of my own ass.”

“That outfit says otherwise,” Nick said. “I thought Trent might prostrate himself in front of you.”

“Anything to break the evil spell Blaine has on him. What is it? What does that guy have on people? It makes absolutely no sense to me. Yeah, he’s passably attractive-- if you don’t mind wild, untamed muppet brows-- but it still doesn’t explain the devotion people have to him,” Sebastain complained.

“It’s probably witchcraft. He casts spells with his furry caterpillars,” Nick said.

Sebastian, stopping at a red light, turned to look at Nick, who grinned and waggled his eyebrows.

“I dunno. I mean, when he came in during the middle of freshman year, Thad was all about him,” David said. “He charmed some of the seniors, and they started putting him in charge of things. For the better part of the year it seemed like... Like he was making things better. More fun. Maybe it was situational. We’d just lost a member.”

“Oh, right,” August said. “I remember that. God.”

“What? Blaine replace your old star? Who did you lose? Did he leave?” Sebastian asked.

“No, he died. He had cancer,” David said. “Adrian Piers. He’d been sick for a while, and everyone liked him. But he died, suddenly, and we were all... I can’t even describe it. It was just so hard to really do much with the group. We came in every day, practiced our scales, did our basic songs, but our hearts weren’t there. Every time we saw one another, we were sad, because Adrien was gone, y’know? We didn’t even go to Sectionals that year. We collectively decided that it wasn’t worth the stress, since a few of Adrien’s close friends had abruptly stopped coming to any of their clubs.”

“So... Blaine came shortly after and he... what? Taught you to live again?” Sebastian asked skeptically.

“No.” August made a grumpy noise. “He was just good at talking to you about the things you were interested in. He made friends easily, and he got us in the habit of doing songs in the middle of the day, doing more pop songs, just having fun. It felt really good, at the time.”

Sebastian scowled. It sounded really opportunistic, is what it sounded like.

“I didn’t know ‘im,” Nick said. “I didn’t join until last year. But you hear things, I guess. Blaine was really popular. Jeff and I knew who he was before we decided to try out for the Warblers.”

“He’s older, too.” Neil added.

“What?” Sebastian asked.

“Yeah, he had to repeat a year when he switched, so he was driving before all of us,” Neil said. “After school, he’d take us places in his car.”

Sebastian shook his head. “So, basically, he’s the Wonder Boy of the Warblers because he could drive and because he came in when everyone was in mourning?”

“Well, no,” David said. “He’s also a very talented singer.”

“Davy, boy, I love you like a brother, man, but I’m telling you, he’s not. If they really did make the mistake of giving him a part, I think you’ll realize that when you see him on stage. Absence will not make the heart grow fonder, here.”

In fact, that had been one reason he’d tried to get as many Warblers to come as possible. If they could just listen to this clown after being out of his spell for so long, maybe it would finally dawn on them that they were better off without him.

“It’s like what he did to Kurt,” Nick muttered.

“What?” Sebastian tried to focus on the road. He was tired of talking about those two, but he couldn’t help but be interested.

“When Kurt came to us... The harassment at his old school was really, really bad,” Nick explained.

“I remember the day he came to check us out. I mean, I guess he was spying, but he wasn’t sneaking around,” David said. “He just came and watched us do a midday number, smiling and clapping along.”

“Dork,” Sebastian muttered.

“He was just so sweet about it. I found it endearing,” David said. “Anyway, we invited him to coffee, and he showed up, a little nervous. He thought we might hurt him. He also thought that we were all gay, which was pretty cute. Apparently one of the kids in his club told him he should come join us. Go flock with the other gay boys.”

“Those guys sound like such dicks,” Nick said.

“Yeah. So what did Blaine do to Kurt?” Sebastian asked.

“Kurt started getting a little upset, as we talked to him. So Blaine encouraged Wes and I to leave, so he could talk to him alone. I don’t know what he said to him, but after that, Blaine was the one he was spending time with,” David said.

“Even after Kurt’s parents convinced him to transfer to Dalton, Blaine stuck right by Kurt’s side,” Nick said. “He would seek him out during study hours and then start a song with him, or something. In a way, Kurt seemed to find it comforting to have someone there, but it also seemed like... He was in the middle of this huge emotional upheaval, and Blaine got whatever he wanted from Kurt because Kurt wasn’t strong enough to fight anymore. I mean, that’s why Kurt came to Dalton. When I asked him, because he was always concerned about the tuition cost, he said that he had agreed because he needed a break from feeling absolutely terrified all the time.”

Sebastian slowed the car slightly. He was getting distracted.  “So... the kids were really hurting him?”

“Well, yes. In part. He still had some fading bruises when he came to us. Still, I think it was more psychological,” David said. “It was as though everything had worn him down, and now a greater threat was coming at him, and he didn’t have the reserves to handle it anymore.”

“Then why did he go back?”

“I don’t think he liked Dalton, to be honest,” August said. “He didn’t have that many friends, and some of the boys are snobby.”

“Yeah, I get that part. There are a lot of stuck up preppies at this school,” Sebastian said. When Nick laughed, Sebastian glared at him. “My father might be a well-off and influential lawyer, and the whelp he married might be an heiress, but there’s a difference between me and the feckless self-absorbed pricks at Dalton. I mean, outside of the Warblers.”

“Okay, whatever. I’m sure Kurt doesn’t really see the difference.”

“Well, what can you expect from a garage monkey,” Sebastian sneered.

That caused uproarious laughter from all the inhabitants of his car.

“I’m going to throw you all out,” Sebastian warned.

“You are not. We’re almost here,” David said.

“It’s just funny to hear you make fun of Kurt’s background just after complaining about the snobs at our school,” Nick said.

“Can he really fix cars?” Sebastian asked.

“He fixed Thad’s car in the parking lot,” Neil offered. “A lot of the boys made fun of him for that. Quietly, and where the other teachers and most of us couldn’t hear, but still. It was like he was from an alien planet, being able to do something with his hands.”

“He got so tired of putting up with their passive aggressive bullshit that he started wearing these weird animal broaches every day. Which is allowed, actually,” Nick said. “I thought it was hilarious. One day it was this hippo with sharp teeth, one day a huge sparkly tarantula.”

“Oh, I remember those,” David cooed. “He’s so sweet. I miss him.”

“He’ll be there. You can catch up,” Sebastian said. “He’s not that hard to follow on Facebook, either. He doesn’t keep nearly enough stuff private, although I’ve noticed that he blocks quickly. Every once and a while, someone will come on his page and start flinging around ‘fag’ and they’re gone in seconds, unless he unleashes verbal damnation upon them.”

“Aw,” David said.

“Don’t ‘aw.’ He’s like a valkyrie of anti-social media bullying.”

“That makes sense,” Nick said. “He has zero patience for people who aren’t honest to his face. And languages are his strongest subjects. I bet he can really trounce people online. It’s different from dealing with those big guys ganging up on him in school, following him around and making gestures, all that stuff.”

Sebastian nodded and grew quiet. It made a little more sense, the way Kurt put his shields up so quickly, now that he knew what Kurt had lived through. Sebastian hadn’t been entirely free from bullying himself, but his father had been a litigator before becoming a state attorney. If Sebastian so much as breathed a sense of dissatisfaction with his school, they would be hearing from his father. He couldn’t imagine going to this school every day.

When they arrived at the school, Sebastian looked over it dismissively. It was like he could smell the poor financial decisions of their school board from the parking lot, which was small and wasn’t even fenced in.

“I hope I don’t catch herpes from their seats,” Sebastian muttered as he clicked the button to lock his car.

David patted his back. “You’re so much better than the other preppies at Dalton.”

“You’re the BEST preppy,” Nick said with a big smile.

“You guys need to shut it.”

But he wasn’t too bothered. If he was a preppy and a snob, the other Warblers were, too. None of them had a mechanic for a dad. None of them had come to Dalton on scholarship. They were all a piece, in that respect.

They entered the school and looked for the box office... which was a little table outside of the auditorium. It had been a little while since Sebastian had slunk around these halls. It seemed even smaller and dingier than he’d remembered.

And it smelled. It was musty. Sebastian focused on trying to block out the scent.

As the other Warblers filtered in, they stood around for a little while, then headed in to secure a block of seats. A few started looking through their playbills, which sported the same design as the flyers had.

“How do they manage to have such pathetic decorations outside and such nice playbills?” Sebastian paused. “With such... detailed ads for funeral parlors?”

“Probably because Kurt made these,” Trent said. “It really looks like something he’d whip up on his dad’s computer.”

“Is there anything the boy can’t do...” Sebastian muttered.

Finally, the lights lowered, and the play began. Sebastian sat up expectantly and watched as the Jets and the Sharks started to come out, dance fighting around one another. The choreography was not particularly ambitious, but they had a few leaders who weren’t too bad at it. Sebastian leaned forward trying to figure out which ones were Sharks and which were Jets. It was a bit impossible to tell, from the costumes.

Then a loud police whistle rang out, and onto the stage strolled two actors in impeccably clean police uniforms, with oddly oversized hats.

“Weird,” a voice breathed behind him.

“”Knock it off! Settle down!” the skinny cop shouted in what sounded like a Brooklyn accent. “Jeezus!”

The other cop, who appeared to actually be a girl with thick glasses, strong armed one of the boys, came forward and yelled, “All right! All right! Kill each other! But not on my beat!”

“Well, if it isn’t Lieutenant Schrank!” the good dancer said to the girl.

“Top of the day, Lieutenant Schrank!” the boys behind him cheered.

“And Officer Krupke!” said a boy with a mohawk, and the most pitiful Spanish accent Sebastian had ever heard. Bernardo?

“Top of the day, Officer Krupke!” the boys behind Mohawk cheered.

Krupke shook a finger at them and started to lung forward, but Schrank caught him.

“Are they supposed to be Irish or Southern or..?” Trent asked quietly.

“Shh,” said Wes.

Sebastian guessed the directors hadn’t bothered to standardize their accents.

“Boy, what you Puerto Ricans have done to this neighborhood! Which one of ‘em clobbered ya, A-rab?” Schrank was big and loud, and she didn’t use much of any kind of accent. She also had the bulk of the lines in this scene, but Sebastian kept looking to Krupke.

Because he was always doing something. When Riff starting telling lies, Krupke started shaking his head and looking between Riff and Schrank, like  “Can you believe this shit?” When Schrank was lecturing them, Krupke was getting into it with one of the Jets, getting his hat stolen, and losing his temper with them and stealing one of their hats.

It took until the cops’ exit for Sebastian to realize that Krupke was Kurt.

“What the fuck?” Sebastian said suddenly. He was shushed, but he was so shocked that he couldn’t care. He reached over and snatched Nick’s playbill and tried to squint at the cast list. Sure enough, Officer Krupke: Kurt Hummel.

Who the hell had made that decision? What was Sebastian going to have to listen to all night, instead of Kurt’s angelic counter-tenor effortlessly crooning “Maria”?

Sebastian’s questions were answered soon enough, and with crushing disappointment. There he was. Tony. With his hair slicked back and his costume just a hair too tight, mugging wildly as he interacted with Riff and completely turning “Something’s Coming” into a dudebro’s paradise.

Blaine fucking Anderson.

“Oh my God, I’m going to die. This is where I die, in this seat in a decrepit public school auditorium,” Sebastian said.

Another shush. But this time, Sebastian heard a few other murmurs of displeasure around him.

“What happened to his voice?” Trent said gently, after the number was over.

Sebastian perked up. He might have to sit through this torture, but Trent! If Trent was beginning to see the light, the night might not have been in vain.

Although before the end of the first act, Sebastian was starting to believe his ears would suffer permanent damage. All of the Nude Erections’ greatest hits were on display tonight. Flat singing, scooping notes, sliding into pitches, yelling top-notes and/or just yelling the whole song, splitting notes, breathiness in the middle of the number... it just went on and on and on.

And Mercedes Jones was nowhere to be seen. And Kurt was Krupke. It was a disaster. A complete joke.

Sebastian would’ve laughed, but somewhere at the end of the third scene, a headache stared pinching the top of his head; by the end of the first act, it was throbbing; and halfway through the second, he just closed his eyes and rubbed his temple, wondering if he could justify slipping into the hallway to get away from the bad singing, awkward acting, and bizarre directorial choices.

Eventually, the decision was made for him. David whispered something about the bathroom, took his hand, and encouraged him with a tug to come along with him. They made their way to the aisle and then out of the auditorium.

“We don’t have to go together,” Sebastian grumbled. “We’re not girls.”

“Are you okay?” David said, ignoring Sebastian’s complaints.

“Do I look okay?” Sebastian snapped. His eyes were only partially open, so he wasn’t sure if anyone else was out in the hallway.

“C’mon. Let’s see if they have any ice at concessions.”

There wasn’t, but David found a soda machine, bought a drink, and wrapped his jacket around it and made Sebastian sit down and hold it over his head.

“How did you even know?” Sebastian demanded.

“Psychic powers. It’s the secret of Dalton. We’re all mutant freaks.”

“You’re all nerds,” Sebastian muttered. He took in several deep breaths, and David sat beside him silently. After a while, Sebastian said, “What the hell was that in there?”

“A high school musical,” David answered in a gentle tone, barely above a whisper.

“Ugh.”

“What were you expecting?”

“Honestly...” Sebastian spoke quietly as well, in deference to the evil that seemed to be birthing itself in his head. “I expected... David, I watched those auditions. Every agonizing minute of them. I expected to see Kurt as Tony, and Jones as Maria. I had no doubt. From the auditions, those were the only options. I expected it to be decent.”

David put his hand on Sebastian’s shoulder and stroked his back with his thumb. “I admit that, while I’ve always liked Kurt, I never really considered him to be a game-changer when it came to vocals. He didn’t do us much good at Regionals last year.”

“That’s because you paired him up with that screeching, straining jerk. Blaine can’t harmonize well with Kurt because he doesn’t have much range, and he sings too loud, so Kurt has to go above or below him. Believe me, I watched and unfortunately listened to last year’s competitions more times than I could count. They were mismatched. Kurt would’ve sounded better with you, or Nick, or Wes, or anyone else. But I think you guys were just idiots not to just give him lead on a song.”

“I see,” David replied mildly.

“Have you even heard old school a capella? It’s all about the high notes, and Kurt doesn’t even have to reach into falsetto for that. His range is just that broad.”

“You really think a lot of him.”

Sebastian moved the bottle around to get another cold side. His headache wasn’t subsiding, but at least the bottle felt good.

“Shut up,” Sebastian muttered, finally.

David just rubbed his back and shoulders.

After a while, Sebastian became more determined to see the rest of that utter trainwreck than he was to fix his headache. He didn’t have any painkillers, there was no food to be had. He should’ve eaten the snack Marie had prepared.

“Are you sure you want to go back in?” David asked.

“Yes. It smells less in the auditorium anyway.” Sebastian opened the soda and took a drink. “Also, I’d hate to deprive you of this theatrical tour de force.”

David chuckled and took Sebastian’s hand so he could keep his eyes mostly closed, sparing them from the bright lights.

“I can drive us all home, okay?” David offered.

“How did you get so far at Dalton being so nice?”

“It’s my trademark,” David said easily.

Sebastian kept his eyes closed for most of the remainder of the play, aside from the few moments, and there weren’t many, when Krupke was onstage. That was because Kurt had so few lines, but still managed to pull focus, because he was so active in every scene. It was worth a few extra throbs in his head. The headache wasn’t going away any time tonight anyway.

By the end of the night, Sebastian was more irritated than in pain. They got so much of it so wrong. Blaine’s contributions didn’t get any better toward the end, nor did his acting.

Sebastian felt like his guts were bubbling up to a boil, like the inside of a kettle ready to blow.

When it was finally over, Sebastian slipped out while everyone was clapping. He would never make it, if he had to hold his tongue for any longer. Before he knew it, he was entering the backstage area. The cast and crew were still onstage, making their bows. Extra bows for the spoiled pretenders in the lead. There, Sebastian waited, not knowing what he would do, or say, and willing himself to just leave. Just exit this building that smelled of lower middle class desperation and make David stop off at a Walgreens for the strongest dose of painkillers he could get over the counter.

A few moments later, though, the McKinley High idiots were flooding backstage, congratulating themselves, laughing and hugging one another. He couldn’t see Kurt anywhere. And at first, the cast didn’t see Sebastian, either.

He began to clap, slowly. The sound drew their attention.

“Wow. I have to say... I was definitely a skeptic walking in tonight, but now that I’ve finally seen it...” he began. He could see Rachel Berry getting her back up and then relaxing as she anticipated his praise.

“You really put the ‘you’ve gotta be high’ in the high school musical,” Sebastian said, shaking his head.

“Hey...” Tina objected.

“Shut up!” Puck snapped.

“From the missed dance steps-” He gestured to the football players. “- to the utterly tone deaf critical numbers, to the inexcusably lazy singing tricks-” He gestured to Rachel. “-to the leads having all the sexual chemistry of wet cardboard, I don’t know how anyone in your audience survived long enough to applaud that hot mess.”

“I think they did a really good job!” Artie argued.

“Given the utter miscasting of every. Single. Leading. Role? Not surprised. Nope.” Sebastian grinned and slipped one hand into his pocket. “But, yeah... No. You’re wrong. You didn’t do a good job. You did a terrible job.”

“I’ve been waiting my whole life to play this role-” Rachel started.

“Then maybe you should’ve paid attention when you watched it at home with you rich daddies. It’s not ‘I just met a girl named BARBRA!”

“Why are you saying this to us?” Blaine said, furrowing his brows and clenching his teeth between words.

“I dunno. Could be because it’s true. It could be because you stole our musical after the semester started and had my boys freaking out. For nothing. Could be that if you idiots had any idea of how to assess the garbage you’re putting out there, you might be ten percent less annoying. Maybe.”

Santana lunged forward, unleashing a string of profanities in Spanish (some of which actually made sense), but she was caught by the other girls.

“You should probably just close the show, before word really starts to get around how little you have to offer.” Sebastian gave them a smirk he truly hoped was insufferable and turned on his heel and strode out into the hallway.