Dear Violet: You Are Worth Everything To Me

Cross My Heart and Hope To Die: A Sebrek Fic

And welcome to yet another scenario (or group of scenarios, rather) that would never ever happen in their canon setting! Oh, the woes of shipping crack pairings…

Ummm…not baby-penguin proof. Also, it might be triggering for some people.

Tagging with Jogan because there’s a little bit in there. Also so people can see it and read it if it sounds interesting. ^^

…

Derek Seigerson is like a taco. If you like what you see (and have the ovaries to go with it), chances are he’s going to end up in you.

The metaphor can be extended, of course. He doesn’t taste too bad and he can be hard or soft, depending.

If you want, we can dig deeper. He’s sort of a hot mess, it’s true. Bits of lettuce and tomato are always falling out. He’s hard to hold on to. Most people don’t want the hassle of spending all that time on him.

But the best part of the taco is buried under the cheese, the lettuce, the onions – you find the meat of the taco, and you find the heart of Derek Seigerson. And if my bizarre analogy has not frightened you off by now, you might want to look for a boy called Sebastian Smythe…

And see what he has to say about all this.

…

“What’s the most you’ve ever orgasmed in one night?”

Derek lifts his eyes so he can peer over the top of his steaming mug of coffee.

“Really? This again?”

Sebastian smirks, tilting his head as he considers Derek’s amused eyes.

“How many? Because I guarantee you I can make it higher.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “Would you stop, already? I’m straight. And don’t pull the whole ‘doesn’t bother me if it doesn’t bother you’ crap again.”

Sebastian shrugs, his crooked smirk growing and shifting slightly on his face. “It doesn’t bother you. You just pretend like it does.”

Derek raises an eyebrow, mildly entertained. “Whatever you say, Smythe.”

Sebastian rises, self-satisfied expression ever-present on his face as he sweeps up his books in one clean motion.

“I’ll be in your bed within the week, Seigerson,” he calls over his shoulder.

…

He’s not exactly right – it takes him a week and a half.

“Having a hard time?”

Derek swears, hands tripping over his keys as he almost strikes against the door, jolted by the presence he had not detected beforehand. As soon as he’s gained control of himself he turns, glaring at the smirking brunet next to him.

“God, you’re annoying.” Sebastian only continues on with that exasperating simper, and Derek glares at him. “What do you want?”

Sebastian shrugs with one shoulder, the other pressed up against the white wall of the hallway. “The same thing I’ve wanted since day one, sweetheart.”

“Go find someone who’s willing, then.”

“No one has quite the same reputation as you, though.”

“Maybe so, but a quite a few of them do have reputations for sucking cock.”

“Who ever said you were going to be the one doing the cock-sucking?”

Derek scowls and tries to move forward once more, but Sebastian reaches out his arm, placing his hand against the opposite side of the door frame and effectively cutting him off.

“Look, Seigerson. All I’m asking for is one night. Just one night, and if you don’t like it I promise I’ll never bother you again. You can even kick me out as soon as we’re done.”

Derek gives him a calculating look, eyes cautious but face no longer glaring.

It’s an out-of-character moment for him, to be sure. And maybe it’s because he’s a little bit drunk, or because all three of the chicks he was going after just hours before rejected him, or because he hasn’t gotten laid in two weeks. But whatever it is, something in his brain just throws up its hands and goes Oh, what the hell.

He glances to the right and to the left before leaning forward and saying, in a low voice, “I swear to god, Smythe, if you tell anyone – “

Sebastian straightens and removes his arm from the door frame, smirk growing more pronounced by the second.

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

…

Needless to say, it’s not a one-time thing. Derek is a guy with needs, and true to his word, Sebastian knows what he’s doing when it comes to sex. So whenever Derek fails to pick up the hottie he’s been eying in the back of the bar, he doesn’t feel too bothered about dragging the singer into his room and locking the door.

God knows Sebastian never complains.

…

“Seigerson.”

Derek doesn’t look up. “I’m doing work, Smythe.”

Sebastian raises an eyebrow. “Yes – for a class you don’t have until Thursday.”

“Lay off.”

“Hey, I just wanted to ask you – “

“I don’t have time.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes. “I promise, it will take two seconds – “

Derek looks up, orange and red rising in his eyes at disproportionately high levels.

“I said lay off, Smythe!”

Sebastian raises his hands, both eyebrows raised as he stands back up. “Okay, jeez. Don’t have some fun every once in a while or anything.” He strolls away with his hands in his pockets.

Derek’s already gone back to his antiderivatives.

…

He’s a pain in the ass. Sebastian knows it all too well.

But the sex is spectacular. That’s not to say they’re exclusive, of course. Derek’s all too open about the girls he screws, and it’s not like Sebastian doesn’t look for pleasure elsewhere on the days when Derek shuts himself in his room and freaks out over every last detail of his essay.

But Sebastian enjoys bugging him. Sometimes Derek’ll even let him hang out in his room afterwards, procrastinating as the athlete tackles the next item on his to-do list.

“Watches in magazines are always saying it’s 10:10.”

This is one of those times.

Sebastian lies propped up on the bed, flipping through the pages of a glossy magazine.

Derek sits at his desk, leaning over a half-completed essay while he ignores the singer completely.

“This thing…has nothing but boobs.”

“That’s kind of the point.”

Sebastian smirks at the dry (and slightly amused) voice. “Think fast.”

Derek turns around just in time to grab the magazine, rolling his eyes as he does so. Just before he twirls his chair back around to focus on his essay, the corner of his eye catches the sheen of sweat that has settled on Sebastian’s torso, the long curve of his fingers where they sit on the bed – and a flicker of gold surrounding his pupil, which he never saw before.

Huh.

Weird.

…

Welcome to our mad world

If you would just be so kind

Please condescend to leave your top hats at the door

We are afraid that the dogs don’t like them

…

“Would you just shut up already, Jules?”

“Me? Excuse you, but I’m not the one who accused me of cheating on you with Sebastian Smythe, of all people!”

Derek throws his door open, slamming it violently once he’s stridden into the room.

“Guys, would you just – “

“Stay out of this, Derek.”

Derek grabs hold of his hair, cursing when he knocks against the dresser and sends the razor he just bought that day flying to the ground.

“Look, all I’m saying – “

“I don’t care what you have to say. You do not have the right to tell us how to deal with our relationship.”

Swooping down, Derek picks up the device and twirls on his heel, intent on shoving it in the bathroom. He doesn’t seem to be capable of much else at the moment.

“I just want to help – “

“Help? Screw you, man. We never see you around; you’re always studying – it’s like you’re not even our friend anymore.”

Pausing, Derek glances down at the razor in his hand.

“Jules, do you – ?”

“Can you just – go, Derek? Please?”

The athlete turns on his heel and walks back into the bedroom, staring at the razor still as he lowers himself onto the bed.

“But I – “

“He said leave, Derek. What would you know about love, anyway?”

Derek tilts the device, observing the way it moves under the manipulation of his fingers. Without taking his eye off it, he sets the razor down on the bed and rolls up the right sleeve of his dark blue shirt.

He picks up the blade again. His right hand twists until he’s staring down at the white of his wrist, smooth and unmarred.

It’s almost too perfect, that skin. Almost unfair that no one gets to see the pain in his heart, because it’s not reflected on his body.

He rotates his hand so that he’s staring at the side of his wrist that connects with the back of his hand. Too perfect, he thinks calmly, staring down in fascination as the razor skims across his wrist, the hairs of his skin parting easily to allow it access.

You’re not the only ones with pain.

Derek looks away from the metal when a face suddenly flashes through his mind.

He scoffs.

Figures. That annoying bastard. Always has to be interfering with my life.

He drops back onto the bed, supporting himself with his two hands behind him, palms lying flat on the fabric.

It’s not like he’d care. But if he found out, they’d find out, and then Coach would find out…

He sighs, falling onto the bed and running a hand across his face.

I couldn’t really hide it. He’d start asking questions if I only ever fucked him with my shirt on.

With a heavy sigh, the athlete kicks the razor to the ground and lifts up his covers, curling up in the bed with all his clothes on.

Whatever. Not today, I guess.

It doesn’t rise to the surface of his consciousness, but something inside him knows there’s another reason he doesn’t want Sebastian to see.

…

Sebastian runs a hand through his hair, sighing as he rolls his shoulders. Six hours of nothing but studying, and he’s ready to fall into bed and call it a day. He turns the corner of the hallway –

And freezes.

Derek has a girl pressed up against the side of his door frame, whispering into her ear as he fiddles with the key to his door. Her face is flushed; she’s giggling, and her shirt is falling off of one shoulder. With a sharp turn to the lock, Derek has the door open and is pulling the blonde into the room, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Sebastian blinks.

Derek.

With a girl.

Right.

There’s nothing wrong with that.

He starts forward again, a strange expression floating across his face.

Nothing wrong at all.

…

“Admit it. You were jealous.”

Sebastian says nothing, just scribbles his way across the page in front of him, dark eyes flickering to check the typed sheet on his right.

“C’mon, Sebbie.” Derek leans his chair back so that only two feet are on the ground.

“Don’t use that name with me. I’m not a goddamn child,” he snaps.

God, he has such an infuriating smirk. It shouldn’t get under his skin. Nothing should get under his skin.

Because there’s no romance.

None at all.

…

And there isn’t.

Until Sebastian instantaneously blurs the definition of passion.

…

“I’m in love with you.”

Derek barely glances up, his eyes trained on the long list of dates. “Beg your pardon?” he asks simply, not comprehending the whisper.

“I…am in love with you.”

Derek pauses, then lifts his head to see Sebastian’s face. It’s whiter than usual.

He frowns. “Knock it off, Smythe.”

“I’m serious.”

Derek shakes his head. “I’m studying.”

“And I. Am not. Fucking. Joking.”

Derek looks up again, and a cold tendril starts to creep around his heart when he finds Sebastian’s eyes. They’ve never looked terrified before.

He glances around. No one is listening to them. He leans forward.

“I thought you knew what this was,” he hisses.

“I did. I do.”

“Good. Then you can leave it like that.”

“Is that what you told Julian?”

Derek’s eyes snap, brimming with warmth. “Listen. I’m just here for the sex. If you’re going to be an ass, then I’m gone.”

Sebastian leans back in his chair, eyes going wide. “Wow. Really?”

Derek just looks at him.

“Really?” He leans forward again, hissing. “I tell you I’m in love with you, and you say that?”

“I don’t have to deal with this crap.”

All of a sudden, Derek is up, books swept up into his arms and a pissed-off expression on his face.

“Wait. Seigerson – “

Tap.

“Derek!”

He’s gone.

…

Sebastian only sees him in the flesh once before vacation starts; he’s walking down the hallway with a book under his arm and another open in his right hand, glancing up only to see where he’s going. His eyes pass Sebastian by.

He goes to the athlete’s room a couple of times, but the thin strip that pushes the door away from the ground is never illuminated. He even approaches the rest of the Stuart Trio and asks if they know where Derek is spending all of his time nowadays.

Logan says nothing, just wraps an arm around Julian’s waist and pulls him away from Sebastian as he looks at the singer with distrust in his eyes.

Julian shrugs. “He’s probably studying. Needs to keep up with all those academic expectations, you know?”

Sebastian knows.

All those expectations.

…

“Two beers.”

“What?”

“Two beers.”

“Ah, I see – gotcha.”

Sebastian taps his fingernails across the glass of his drink, catching random phrases that are hurtling through the air and landing across his shoulders. His eyes skim the dance floor, lingering over the booths where the scattered couples lift themselves up with passion and sink back down to increase the already heated temperatures. He finds one table where the kissing is slower – a hand on a cheek and a gentle movement of lips against lips. He quickly looks away.

“You want another beer?”

Sebastian turns to meet the piercing blue eyes of the bartender. He glances down at his near-empty glass before shoving it forwards. “Sure, why not.”

The drink disappears and Sebastian’s gaze travels up to the television. It’s trained on commercials at the moment, and the screen is filled with the melodramatic acting of the newest chick-flick trailer.

Sebastian sneers as the skinny brunet flings herself into toned arms, crying against a broad chest as she clutches at his neck.

We’re just like a goddamn movie, he thinks. Simple storyline: lovers meet. Lovers kiss. Lovers fight. Lovers break up. Lovers drown their sorrows with booze. Stranger comes up to one of the lovers –

“So.” The pair of eyes Sebastian has been feeling on his back all night disappear, and a long-legged brunet pushes himself up onto the barstool next to Sebastian’s, smirking as the shadow of his hair falls over one eye. “You wanna get out of here?”

It’s tempting, very tempting. The lover struggles with their conscience for a moment, but ultimately, their heart decides…

Sebastian takes a swig of the alcohol that’s been set down in front of him, and then turns towards the stranger and confronts his bold question with the arch of his eyebrow.

“Your place or mine?”

…

Derek sits still on the side of his bed, chest bare, a few drops of water trickling down his skin and under his jeans. His thumb fiddles with the plastic of his phone, eyes staring down with deep concentration.

Okay, seriously. You’re being a dick. Just pick up the damn phone and talk to me already.

It’s one of three texts he’s received. He flips to the call log, viewing the four missed calls from Sebastian once again.

Only seven attempts to contact him in the course of a couple weeks.

The figures and colors blur slightly as Derek’s eyes lose focus, the phone sagging slightly in his hand.

What would happen? If I called him?

An emotion shivers in Derek’s brain and he casts the phone aside suddenly, flipping onto the bed and curling up on his side.

No. Sleep now. Girls tomorrow.

The wind picks up as Derek falls into sleep, eyelids fluttering and dreams far, far away from Sebastian.

Because no one should give themself permission to fall that hard.

…

Derek pushes the back door of the bar open, wincing as his fingertips scratch across peeling rust and crumbling dirt. He takes one step into the narrow back-alleyway, the cold scraping across his neck and cheeks before the circulation in one arm is cut off by the grip of a too-tight hand.

“We need to talk.”

Derek stares at Sebastian in shock and incredulity (where did he even come from?) before regaining his senses.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he growls, tearing his arm away from the painful grip. He’s only turned a fraction of an inch before his body is seized and hurled against a wall.

Derek automatically opens his mouth for a huge gasp of breath as the air is knocked out of him, eyes widening as streaks of white tease along the sides of his vision.

Sebastian is glaring at him, so different from everything he was before, unkempt to the point of viciousness, green eyes glowing unhealthily. He knows there’s no point trying to trap Derek against the wall – he’s so much stronger than the singer – but that doesn’t mean he can’t glare with all the intensity he wish he could convey.

“Yeah, well, I’m fucking in love with you,” he sneers almost maliciously. “I’d say that’s fucking worth talking about, wouldn’t you?”

Derek glares at him. Two can play at a game of smoldering eyes.

“Would you leave me alone already? I’m straight, God damn it!” The brunet shoves himself away from the wall until he’s within three feet of the singer. It’s closer, so that the bite of his snarls can better reach the others heart.

“Then why did we keep doing this?” The boy feels like his heart is choking in his chest, but he can’t stop speaking. “Why, after all this time, did you keep coming back to me?”

Derek makes no movement but with his eyes, scarring with stripes of white-hot fever. It lasts less than a second, and then Derek turns on his heel, boots scraping the broken tar of the ground to leave Sebastian. Sebastian, who is running in front of him all of a sudden, refusing to be forced into silence when it matters the most.

“Why did you sleep with me, Derek?” The cry rips itself out of his throat, tearing at his vocal chords as it hurtles across his tongue to echo on the stone walls rising high above them.

Derek doesn’t use a second. It’s very easy to see Sebastian all as one in that moment: the desperate rise and fall of his chest, the way his left rolled-up shirt sleeve begins to fall down from its place around his elbow (God, he must be freezing in this weather without even so much as a jacket on), the absolute wretchedness and heartbreak rising to his face from the passion of his skin –

It makes it very easy to see him as he is, and not as the perfect person he shows himself to be (the way the rest of the world sees him).

Derek doesn’t use a second. The words fall from Sebastian’s lips and in the next moment he’s moving forward, striding purposefully and catching the other boy by the shoulders.

Sebastian’s back strikes against the unforgiving stone. His throat clenches around the strangled gasp it fails to produce, shock jolting through his system. Long streaks of water come crying from the clouds, dripping against the walls and through the strands of Sebastian’s hair, carrying dirt with them. It’s one of the few times in his life that Sebastian doesn’t care, because it’s all wrapped up in the moment that Derek leans forward, grabs a clump of Sebastian’s hair in one hand and his chin in the other and presses every single line of their bodies together.

Sebastian doesn’t know if his eyes grow wide, doesn’t know if his fingers curl in to meet his palms. He wants to escape his body, look down at this scene like an angel from the sky, because it doesn’t seem like this is possible. Nothing seems real to him.

Derek’s mouth stays hard on his, his grip like iron, lips moving succinctly and even desperately as Sebastian stands, trapped and still, in front of him.

Suddenly, the singer’s tongue goes out to lick a wet stripe against Derek’s lips. Derek pulls away from his mouth, panting against his jaw before leaning down and branding a harsh bite into the skin of Sebastian’s neck as abruptly as he first kissed him.

Sebastian is sure that his eyes do go wide this time; the strangled gasp finally forces its way out of his body as his shaking fingers grab into Derek’s hair, grounding him as he pulls up towards him, molding two bodies into one.

Derek doesn’t like the space behind him. He presses forward, forcing the body in front of him into submission as he shoves Sebastian against the wall, the lines of the rock vibrating through both of their bodies.

Sebastian’s hands tighten in his hair and Derek bites harder, needing to mark mark mark. The slim boy can only offer up a choked moan, his eyelashes fluttering as Derek grabs one leg to hold it against his hip.

Sebastian whines, wiggling under Derek as their lips meet again, flame against flame. Derek’s hand finds Sebastian’s other leg and lifts it up, and the singer wraps his legs around the athlete’s hips all too eagerly.

Derek thrusts his tongue into the others mouth, forcing past teeth harshly, and Sebastian stutters, trembling fingers clutching onto the back of Derek’s neck, desperate not to let him get away again. Derek forces his hips forward roughly, and Sebastian has to physically restrain himself from biting down on both of their tongues. His spine is ready to collapse with pleasure and hot tears are burning at the corners of his eyes.

This is strange. This is different. Usually there’s a struggle for dominance. Though Derek almost always tops, Sebastian doesn’t ordinarily let him get away with it without putting up a good fight.

This time, it’s all Derek – and Sebastian is wiped away.

“C’mon.”

Sebastian’s eyes snap open, barely feeling the breath of the words across his cheek before Derek has shoved his legs onto the ground, trapping his wrist in the prison of his circled hand. Sebastian staggers forward behind him, terrified – afraid he’ll trip, afraid he’ll fall, because his eyes don’t seem to be working and Derek is fast.

What am I doing?

Derek lives on the third floor, but it’s not enough time for the words to fully circle in Sebastian’s brain. He’s sure Derek’s hand around his wrist will leave a scar with the intensity that it’s burning him, but he doesn’t ever want him to let go.

Sebastian trips across the threshold ungracefully (well, that’s ironic) and lets one hand fall against the wall as he struggles to take in a few ragged breaths. His hand stings from the force with which it hits the off-white paint, but it’s nothing compared to the sudden lurch of lost that jolts through him when he can no longer feel the grip of Derek’s hand on his wrist. He blinks down at the skin, marred with angry pink and white lines.

Where…?

He jumps at the sudden slam of the door, white and brown flooding through his vision as his back meets unrelenting solidity once again. And then the grip on his wrist is back, a hand circling his left wrist and a hand on his right, and everything melts back into place as his arms join the rest of his body, pinned on either side of his head.

It’s wrong – of course it’s all wrong. There is nothing good about this situation except Derek’s hands gripping his wrists, Derek’s mouth attacking his mouth, Derek’s body molded against his body, and that’s the kind of right he needs at this moment.

Derek unbinds their lips so he can latch on to the boy’s neck, mouth moving in purposeful, bruising patterns. Sebastian leans his head back against the wall, mouth open to take in deep, savoring breaths as Derek slides his hands over his shirt, fingers slipping under the waistband of his jeans.

Something snaps in Sebastian’s brain and he reaches down, fingers shivering over the plastic of Derek’s shirt buttons, fumbling with the article until it’s been properly disposed of.

Derek’s mouth is hard against his lips, domineering. Tugging at his bottom lip, the athlete turns them around, walking forward and pushing him back, blind leading the blind, completely at the mercy of the apartment’s layout.

Sebastian realizes they’ve entered another room when the edges of his senses pick up the sound of a door being slammed shut. Derek reaches out to the light dial, swiping at the circle with his fingertips. He only manages to turn it a few degrees; the overhead light raises itself from darkness, but neglects to provide anything more than a dim kind of offering.

Derek doesn’t care. Sebastian feels, for the first time, a softer touch beneath his back. He sits back up almost instantly, or as far up as he can, considering the way Derek is leaning over him like that. He can’t allow such a large space between them, can’t allow their bodies to disconnect. He needs that drug, that poison, because the alternative is sanity. Clear thinking. Cold.

Derek presses his hands all along the sides of the singer’s torso, mapping the shape as the shirt fits to his skin. He doesn’t like the layer of fabric separating them any more than Sebastian does, but the latter just hooks his hands behinds Derek’s neck and buries his face in the crook of his neck, panting.

I can’t let go. I can’t.

With a short growl of frustration, Derek hooks onto either side of Sebastian’s shirt collar and literally rips the thin fabric in half. Sebastian separates himself from the athlete for just long enough to fling the ruins of the shirt to the side, latching onto Derek’s mouth again as soon as possible, something like desperation battling through his veins. Derek moves forward, placing an elbow on either side of Sebastian’s head as he continues to kiss aggressively. Once more, a hand slips under the waistband of his jeans and another goes to tug at one of his belt loops insistently.

Without any warning, Derek aligns their hips more correctly and thrusts – violent, impatient.

It hurts. It hurts and it’s right.

Sebastian is not aware that he made any response besides the slight arching of his back, but he must have had some sort of audible reaction, because Derek growls. Actually growls, and makes quick work of stripping the singer down so he can force him onto the bed once more.

Sebastian rubs his face along Derek’s slight stubble. It burns, but it’s like coming home.

There’s a hard hand on his chest, forcing him to lie completely flat against the bed, and all of a sudden Derek is gone. A few words float above him, resonating with the sound of a deep voice. He raises his head to strain to listen, but they’re lost before he can make sense of anything.

The singer lays his head back down, staring at the ceiling without sense, abandoned and completely bare on the bed.

This is wrong. The thoughts come flooding towards him. This is wrong.

The singer closes his eyes, chest trembling from a fluttering heart.

Oh God.

He brings a hand up to cover the burning sensation that’s sprung up behind his closed eyelids.

Those same eyes spring open as a hot tongue suddenly licks its way across his navel, mouth opening to allow a short yelp to escape.

There’s the soft plunk of objects hitting the bed, and then the tongue returns, licking in one thick stripe across the place where his thigh meets his pelvis. He turns to bury his head in the pillow, gripping the sheets in an effort to restrain whatever sound his body might be urging his mouth to make.

It hurts. It hurts and it burns even as Sebastian is touched where he’s been touched many times before, by many different people. Derek’s not slow, he’s not gentle, but it’s right, and it’s what Sebastian wants. A hot trail of euphoria blazes up his spine and tingles into his fingertips.

Something sticks in his throat. In an effort to contain all the things he doesn’t want Derek to see, Sebastian lets his back rise off the bed, eyelashes fluttering as a bead of sweat trickles down his neck – absolutely damned and unequivocally beautiful.

One more jerk until Derek moves forward, and Sebastian is not himself anymore.

This is wrong.

The bed slams against the wall, and Sebastian groans, moving his head from side to side as he compels his brain to grasp at coherent language. A sentence, a phrase, even a single word – but nothing comes.

He supposes he doesn’t need words – not with the sheet of fire wrapping around his stomach.

The headboard ruts against the wall again – again, and again. Sebastian hopes Derek won’t mind the marks on the wall that are sure to be there in the morning.

If nothing else, Sebastian thinks as Derek leans down to burn his lips once more, it will be a sign that all of this was real.

…

There’s a fluttering against Sebastian’s cheeks. When he opens his eyes – blearily – he realizes it was his eyelashes.

Propping himself up on his elbows, Sebastian blinks until his vision has cleared, glancing to the left, where there’s nothing but a chair, and then to his right, where –

He does a double take.

Oh.

…

Right.

Glancing down, Sebastian finds that his right hand is lying on top of the bed sheets, the very tips of his fingers intertwined with those of Derek’s left hand.

Shit.

Withdrawing his hand swiftly, Sebastian runs his fingers across his face, swearing internally.

Okay. Just find your goddamn clothes and get out of here, Smythe.

Sebastian pulls the sheets away from his body and swings his legs over the side of the bed, halting and gripping the bedding for support when sparks of sudden pain shoot through his body.

“Hm…Sebastian?”

The boy in question actually cringes.

Don’t say anything. Maybe he’ll go back to sleep.

When the athlete doesn’t say anything for a few moments, the singer stands, ignoring the ache of his body, and bends down to pick up his underwear, which he’s only just noticed.

“Where are you going?”

“…home.” He flinches when his voice cracks.

It was one syllable, Smythe. One syllable.

There’s no point in picking up his shirt; he’ll just have to grab one of Derek’s when he’s not looking and give it back to him later. Somehow.

Scanning around for his jeans, the singer realizes they must have landed on the other side of the bed. Reluctantly, and avoiding Derek’s gaze as much as possible, the brunet moves around to Derek’s side of the bed and crouches down to scoop up his pants. Before he can straighten up fully, Derek takes the opportunity to grab the wrist closest to him.

Sebastian tugs harshly, refusing to make eye contact as he attempts to extricate himself.

“Stop it.”

“Sebastian – “

“Let me go, Seigerson.”

“Don’t.”

Sebastian glares at the floor, loath to give Derek any more of him than he’s already given.

“Seb…”

Without meaning to and certainly without wanting to, Sebastian’s head jerks up, unused to the nickname – and his eyes land on anxious brown.

“I took your hand.”

Sebastian regards him with a ‘what-the-hell-are-you-even-talking-about’ kind of expression.

“Last night. Before you – you know. I grabbed your hand. I don’t think you felt it.”

Sebastian glares at him again. “How fucking fascinating.”

“We could be something, you know.”

Sebastian says nothing, just looks away, still glaring at the carpet.

“I don’t know how, exactly…but we could.”

Sebastian lets a harsh laugh choke its way out of his system, swearing internally as his eye sockets begins to prickle with unshed tears. “Are you crazy? We could never work out. You can’t commit to one person, Derek. From what I’ve heard, you never could.” He tries to pull away, but Derek’s grip on his wrist only tightens. “Derek. You’ve got your quick fuck, now let me go.” He tries to yank away once more, but Derek pulls back harder.

Sebastian loses his balance, stumbling onto the bed, both wrists grabbed in firm grasps before he can even think about trying to escape again.

The brunet pulls himself up from his place against the bed, still dizzy from the fall – but before he can orientate himself, he’s caught by the sensation of a warm pinprick on his arm. He blinks downwards to see Derek’s head rising, then falling once more to press another gentle kiss to another spot on his arm, a little ways away.

“Derek…” He tugs weakly, but it doesn’t make any difference at all. “What are you doing?”

“I didn’t sleep with anyone else.” The athlete presses a kiss to the top of Sebastian’s naked shoulder, and he shivers. “When I wasn’t talking to you. I wanted to, but I couldn’t.”

“That doesn’t prove anything.” He means to sound bitter – bitter like he feels – but his voice only comes out as soft as he stares down at Derek, who is uncurling his wrist and placing a soft kiss to the palm of his hand, running his fingers over the red and white welts on Sebastian’s wrists as if to soothe them.

“Don’t go.” He presses himself against the side of Sebastian’s neck, scattering gentle kisses. He pulls away – reluctantly – just in time to see the hot tears beginning to drip down Sebastian’s skin. He moves forward to kiss one small droplet of water away, but it doesn’t stop the others from slipping down his cheeks all too readily.

He lets go of Sebastian’s other wrist and watches as the singer just sits there, staring at the bed sheets, the silent misery of his face almost heartbreaking.

“I can fall in love with you.”

Sebastian looks at Derek, and the athlete takes his face in his hands, wiping his tears away with his thumbs.

“Cross my heart and hope to die.” He leans in for a sweet kiss – the first sweet kiss they ever share – and Sebastian kisses back.

Not exactly like the movies.

But close enough.

Tagged: Derek SeigersonSebrekDaltonficFanficJoganChylan