"Time is Slipping Away"
Pairing(s): Sebastian Smythe/Blaine Anderson, Kurt Hummel/Blaine Anderson
Summary: In his time left, he wanted them to feel what he felt. He wanted them to feel the pain. That is why he insulted them, that is why he threw the slushie; it was simple, he just wanted people to see. The life of Sebastian Smythe. Deathfic. Seblaine.
(Read on fanfiction.net)
He sets the coffee down in front of him, the usual; black with a shot of courvoisier.
The sweet taste of the liquour running down his throat provides a sense of composure to the young man.
He sighs, returning his mind to the work in front of him, awaiting the entrance of his foes.
The cavalry arrives, strolling in in a disorganised manner; something he sees as common and typical of persons of this middle class town.
The group advances in on him, the latina girl leading, taking the seat opposite before beginning her confronting speech. The others forming a cluster around her, like an army awaiting charge; this time, he was unarmed.
"Let me break it down for you, from one bitch to another, all this vicious underhanded crap has got to stop"
He meets her eye, keeping his face neutral as he agrees
"Exactly, that’s why I called you here"
He never usually gave in, he never usually declared a truce. He fought with all of his might; he never lost. He wanted them to feel what he felt, he wanted them to hurt.
But this time, he had gone too far.
"First of all"
He looks up, his expression softening. Searching for a form of forgiveness, something he needed most at this moment.
"Blaine I am sorry about your eye"
"That means nothing to me"
The words were harsh, but he had every right to reject his apology, it was something he was used to, the pain, whether emotional or physical, was always present.
"Just give me a chance, I have no excuses other than a lame prank got completely out of control"
There was a sense of plead in his voice, but he continues on, determined to not let another thing show. He can feel the scowls bearing down on him, he resists the urge not to look up and punch each one of their vapid judgemental faces.