napoleongonewrong:

“What happened to you, Sebastian?” His head tilts to the side, just a little bit, curiousity on his face. “To make you look at me like that?”

Sebastian stiffens, his shoulders visibly tensing. He didn’t mean to get caught looking, and having it brought up several minutes later makes his heart thump harder in his chest. He turns slowly, staring. ”Like…like what, Bo-Jim?” he swallows, clearing his throat.

“When you think I’m not paying attention.” Jim seems to frown, looking away from the man, at the far wall for a second. He flicks at something from underneath a fingernail. “You get this look on your faces, deep in your eyes. Like something’s crawled in through your skin, dug a little hole in your heart, and is leaving you to die. Like I’m that little thing.”

“I- Don’t- don’t mock me, Jim.” His voice cracks, betraying him, and he glares. He turns away, a sigh on his lips as he stares resolutely down at the papers in his hands.

“I’m not mocking you. I genuinely wish to know.”

It makes him pause. This is just a game. To Jim, everything’s a game, and nothing’s off limits. Whether it be a person or his favourite pet’s feelings. Everything is up for grabs when the man is in one of his moods. No so much playful, but vindictive. 

He looks like he might actually mean it, though. Which unsettles Sebastian further, making his heart clench.

Whatever is in this for Jim, it can’t mean anything good for Sebastian.

“Fuck off,” he mutters, collecting the papers into a pile, making to dart out the door. Leave the flat, leave Jim, at least for a few hours. Maybe not come back until tomorrow, after a night at the club, and a morning to sleep off everything.

“Stop.”

One word and he’s frozen in his steps.

His back is tight but he doesn’t turn, doesn’t show Jim his face. The determined way the lines around his face are scrunched up, hardened to show just how imply just how little he cares. How annoyed he is at being stopped.

“Yeah?” he asks, voice gruff. “Something you want?”

“Don’t leave,” Jim asks of him, something funny about his voice. Like he’s holding something back.

Sebastian doesn’t know what stops him, why he hesitates, when his every instinct and safeguard is screaming at him. Demanding that he leave as soon as possible. Get away before Jim can get to him.

Whatever it is, it makes him turn, shuffling the papers around in his hands as he avoids looking at Jim for a second. He kicks himself for it, and lifts his head, meeting Jim’s gaze head on, staring him down. “Something you wanted?” he demands again, forcing the glare harder.

“And then you look at me like that.” Jim laughs, smile softly, in a way that doesn’t quite make sense for his face. “Like you want to hate me. You really do, and you think that if you try hard enough, force it for as long as it takes, one day you’ll get there. And maybe you will. Is that what it is, ‘Bastian?” he asks, lifting himself up and out of the recliner, moving to the kitchen, to the fridge.

It’s not far, but he silent for a minute, until he comes back, leaning against the frame of the door. “You don’t just want away from me. You want to hate me, so you can properly escape me. Run away and never look back. S’why you haven’t left yet…isn’t it? Because you don’t think you’d be able to stay away. Not as long as you know I’m still alive.”

The words hang in the air, heavy, without a response, or encouragement for one from either of them. Sebastian’s hands clench into fists, crinkling up the papers. The only audible noise around them.

He breathes out and swallows, taking a pause before he opens his mouth to speak. “Jim-” he hesitates, still quite unable to move from his spot.

“No. Don’t,” Jim stops him, shush ing him with a finger to his lips, studying the bottle in his hands instead of looking. “I’m not done.”

“Done with what?” Sebastian can’t stop himself from asking. He’d like to say it’s instinct, that he doesn’t really want to know the answer. But he does. The masochist side of him craves whatever it might be. It doesn’t care that whatever harsh words will come will no doubt sting, wherever they may lead.

“You.”

“…me?” he shifts, uneasy, wary as he tries not to focus on Jim’s eyes. He fixes his gaze on the wall. Any way, it doesn’t matter. He just doesn’t want to look. He wants to break the spell and run. Back to the club, back to drinking until he can’t see straight enough to think. Get himself fucked until walking is hard, and the smell of someone else in his nostrils is strong enough to make him forget Jim’s scent.

‘Leave. Just walk out of here. He doesn’t…he’s just fucking with you. Fucking with your head. He wants you to say it, so he can rub it in your face. He only wants to hurt you. Stop thinking he’s being vulnerable because he…he doesn’t. Run. Leave, before it’s too late. Just leave.’

His thoughts echo through his mind on a loop, running constantly, like his feet aren’t. Demanding that he stop just long enough to listen.

There’s a pause. Long, deafening, and enough to make him think Jim isn’t planning to reply. Like he might be planning to smoke Sebastian out, make him decide what comes next.

Suddenly the space between them, the four or so meters separating their bodies, just isn’t enough. He wants to be miles away, but he feels trapped, backed into a corner by something too big to fight.

“…if you’re not going to say anything,” Sebastian pauses, watching now, the way Jim plays with plastic wrapped around his water. “Then I’m going to go. And you’re going to…go back to whatever it is you do when I’m gone. My night’s booked, so you’ll have to find a better way to entertain yourself than fucking with my he-“

“The funny thing,” Jim interrupts, face blank, fingers never hesitating. “Is that I didn’t just describe how your face looks. I also described how it feels to look at you.” He laughs, hollow, empty but still amused sound. It tinkles in Sebastian’s ears, making him grind his teeth. The words don’t quite register yet.

“I got rid of you because I figured it would make it easier to hate you, and I could put that part of my life behind me. Write you off like a stupid vulnerability. Replace the little chink you left in my suits.

“But,” he doesn’t look up, but his shoulders twitch. “As you can see, that didn’t exactly work.” A smile plays at the corners of his lips, and he swallows. He doesn’t seem so much nervous as determined. Resigned to something.

Sebastian’s head feels fuzzy all of a sudden. Like someone’s wrapped a heavy bag over his head, clogging his senses, shutting out reason and understanding. “I-“

He’s cut off again when Jim looks up, something in his eyes freaking Sebastian out. It’s not something he understands, but something he’s seen before, and it makes his heart thump. But it couldn’t possibly be real. He’s just deluding himself. He glances away, the door looking like it’s shrinking, and the possibility of running darts through his head. It’s not too late yet.

“Think about it, ‘Bastian. Why would I-“

But this time it’s Sebastian that cuts him off before he can finish. “Don’t.” He demands, jaw tightening. “Either say the words and mean them, or don’t, and we both walk away. Do not play this game with me.”

There’s a pause.

“I think I fell in love with you one night when I wasn’t paying attention.”

His heart stops.