Alden Sebastian Jarvis III | 24 | Bisexual | FC: Bill Skarsgard | TAKEN
âAre we going to get this bloody thing over and done with already? Or are you just going to fucking sit there and stare at me a bit more?â The blonde snaps, nostrils flaring and lips curling in disgust. The blundering idiot now sat before him had barged in, uninvited, half an hour prior and was seriously beginning to wear on his patience. It was one thing to waste his time under normal circumstances, but this moron was in his home and had barely spoken since arriving, despite his allegations of writing an âimportantâ article on his father.
âNow, now, AldenâŚâ The man trails off, biting at his lower lip apprehensively, noticing Sebastian stiffen and the way his fingers had clenched into fists upon his knees, knuckles turning white. âIâve already fucking told you twice to call me Sebastian. Call me Alden again and Iâll cut out your fucking tongue, got it?â Sebastian spits through clenched teeth, pausing a second to drag in a calming breath and relax his fingers somewhat. âCan you just get on with your fucking questions already? I have things to do today and youâre just wasting my bloody time.â
The reporter nods, the motion minute as he averts his gaze, busying himself with rifling through the papers in his bag to find his pre-prepared list of questions. He finally finds the list, clears his throat and pushes his glasses further up his nose, buying a few moments to compose himself before asking the first question, âFr-From where do you hail, Sebastian?â The reporter puts unnecessary emphasis on the blondeâs name which simply causes a snicker to leave his lips. Much to his amusement, Sebastian had successfully intimidated the reporter and to think this moron was from one of the most accomplished business magazines in London. It was pathetic.
âI was born and raised in London.â It was a simple enough statement that left no room or reason for further questioning on the matter. It clear from the reporterâs expression that he wanted to ask more on the subject of his childhood, but he decides against it. Sebastian wasnât the kind of man to dwell on his childhood, that much was obvious. âR-Right, yes, good. Uh, so whatâs your business in London? You left for a few years, didnât you?â Sebastian rolls his eyes at the question, a sigh parting his lips as he nods his head. âI did, yes. I was at Yale University for three years and graduated second in my History and Politics class. I lived over there for an extra couple of years before returning to London upon my fatherâs request. Apparently, he just couldnât bare to have his beloved little boy so far away for so long.â The sarcasm far more evident than it probably should have been, he was supposed to be on his best behaviour after all.
The reporter pauses, reluctant to move onto the next question. He could tell there was more to the story than Sebastian had said, but really didnât want to push his luck. Who knew what Sebastian was capable of. The reporter finally clears his throat after another momentâs silence, choosing a far safer question as the next. âSo⌠Sebastian, do you have a day job? Perhaps something to put your History and Politics degree to good use?â Sebastian scoffs at the question, his eyes crinkling ever so slightly at the edges as an almost secretive glint comes to his emerald hues. âIâm a collector of rare and expensive books. It is both a passion and a full time job. What can I say? I have a love of the finer things in life and fortunately I have the means to live the life of luxury.â
Again, the reporter is forced to accept a half answer from Sebastian. It would seem that he was his fatherâs son alright, the two were dangerously similar, not that anyone would be stupid enough to point it out. When the reporter had spoken to Sebastianâs father, he had received answers much alike those he was getting from Sebastian. They both answered questions like they intended to add further details and then simply didnât. It was infuriating to say the least. The reporter passes fingers through his hair, exhaling an inaudible sigh, moving onto the next question.
âWhy donât you give me five simple words to describe yourself, Sebastian?â Sebastianâs brows furrow at the question, not knowing how it could possibly contribute to an article on his father, but shrugs and complies none the less. âIâd have to say I am confident, self-indulgent, often stubborn, perhaps a little possessive and just a hint manipulative. Howâs that for a list?â His lips finally turn up in a smile, even if it is slightly mischievous and full of arrogance. The reporter frowns down at his notepad, taking a note of the five words. He reads them back to himself, adding arrogant, enigmatic and illusions of grandeur to his list for good measure, his own smug smile coming to his features.
The reporter finally looks up, looking a little guilty as he chews on his lower lip, hoping that Sebastian couldnât read upside down; which, of course, he could. He clears his throat, angling the notebook a little away from Sebastian, colour flaring in his cheeks. âU-Uh, could you elaborate a little on self-indulgent and manipulative for me, please, S-Sebastian?â Sebastianâs glare doesnât falter and he doesnât respond straight away, instead choosing to pause to make the stupid little man squirm a little more. âAre you fucking stupid or something? Iâm sure you can figure it out for yourself.â The report shifts uncomfortably, but itâs not long before his jaw sets and he mumbles stubbornly, âH-Humour me, if you please?â
Sebastianâs scowl deepens as agitated fingers are pushed through his hair in one graceful sweep; which gives him a moment to compose his thoughts. âFine. Iâm self-indulgent. Iâve already told you that I like the finer things in life and it would only stand to reason that I be self-indulgent. I purchase what I like when I like. I treat myself often to all manner of luxuries and am not afraid to do so. I do what I want when I want and am not particularly concerned with the consequences. Itâs not like I canât get out of any tricky situations. This is where the manipulative part comes in. I said I get what I want and I donât rest until I get it, no matter what it is. I am not above using people and money to my advantage. More often than not, I get what I want with people thinking itâs theiridea to give it to me. Is that elaboration enough?â
The reporter was still busy scribbling what Sebastian had said in his notebook and it takes him a few minutes to realise that Sebastian had stopped. When he does notice, he nods a little, biting at the inside of his cheek as he glances down at the next question- dreading it already. âWhatâs⌠Whatâs your f-family like, Sebastian? Do you⌠Uh⌠Enjoy their company?â Sebastian had known it would only be a matter of time before they were dragged into this stupid interview, but he still wasnât prepared for it. He sighs, hesitating far longer than he intended to as he selects rather carefully what he wants to say. If he messed this part up, Sebastianâs father would be furious and that wasnât exactly high on his list of things he wanted to deal with today. Sebastian slides nimble fingers through his dark blonde locks, eyes closing.
âI take if you know how my family is âstructuredâ?â He opens his eyes just in time to see the other nod, before closing them once more and continuing. âMy family⌠Well, you canât really call it mine, can you? Thereâs my fatherâs family and then my mother. My father is a businessman through and through. Heâs strict, old-fashioned and much like my grandfather. I guess you could say heâs a great father to my half-sister, Madeleine. My mother⌠Sheâs⌠I get along with her better than my father; which is definitely saying something.â A faint humourless chuckle leaves Sebastianâs lips, gaze focusing on the reporter once more, his shoulders rising and falling in a shrug.
The reporter frowns, taking a few notes, before asking a second question for clarification, âYou donât live with any of your family now, do you?â Sebastian looks at him disbelievingly, nostrils flared in disgust. âAre you fucking high? No. I moved out when I was sixteen and donât plan on going back any fucking time soon.â The reporter is slightly taken aback by the sudden flare of anger that he hadnât seen in Sebastian since the beginning of the interview. He offers a small apologetic smile that resembles a grimace more than anything else.
âUh, what about your spare time? What do you enjoy doing?â It was another safe question designed to diffuse the situation once more, knowing that too many questions like the previous one and heâd be leaving with a finger or toe missing. Sebastian calms a little and even gives a soft chuckle, âAll of my time is free, my friend, and with it I do as I please.â The reporter resists the urge to groan after receiving the umpteenth vague answer from Sebastian, it was beginning to get a little tedious now.
âWhat about drugs, alcohol⌠Sex?â It was a long shot and the reporter knew it. Anything Sebastian admitted here, he couldnât print, but it was still worth a try. Sebastian chuckles, that secretive glint returning to his emerald hues. âWouldnât you like to know?â His chuckle continues, tongue sliding along his lower lip as he leans forward causing the reporter to mirror him. When the other male was close enough, he caresses the other cheek, the first piece of contact between the two of them. âI enjoy all three if and when I pleaseâŚEspecially the last⌠Not that you can print that, of course. Wouldnât want you to get sued and fired, would we?â Sebastian slouches back in his chair, his chuckle deepening and becoming a little darker and far more amused.
The reporter clears his throat and wipes his sweaty palms down his thighs, adjusting his glasses. He wets his lips, frowning at the last question, âI donât suppose youâll tell me about any sort of illegal business youâre in, will you?â Sebastianâs laughter simply continues, serving as good an answer as the reporter was going to get. The reporter nods, sighing a little, âDidnât think so⌠Well, thatâs it. â The reporter says, shoving his notes into his bag and rising from his seat. He holds out his hand to Sebastian who simply stares at it until itâs retracted.
âUnless thereâs anything else youâd like to add?â The reporter tries one last attempt to get any more information out of Sebastian, who shakes his head. After an awkward moment, the blonde rises, a smirk tugging up his lips. âI have important business to attend to, I assume you can let yourself out?â With those last words, Sebastian turns from the reporter, moving into the kitchen to light a cigarette and put the kettle on- the extent of his âimportant businessâ. Thereâs the sound of shuffling feet, followed by the front door opening and closing and finally Sebastian had his own home to himself again.
