Writer's Block: Pecking Order
Name: Charlie
Pairing: Liam/Sebastian
Fandom: None; original
Rating: K
Word Count: 417
Summary: Sebastian's vulnerable side is even more beautiful than his stage face.
Notes: A tad depressing, sorry.
Sebastian was sulky, demanding and self-centred; he didn’t like it when he didn't get his own way, he pouted a lot, and if his dinner took too long he whined and complained until he eventually, inevitably, phoned for a takeaway that arrived just before his real dinner was served, and then ended up feeling sick afterwards, blaming everything - though not everyone - but himself. Liam sometimes found his petulance cute, and other times worthy of a roll of his eyes, but it was easily explained; when his family visited, there were no younger or older Sebastians.
One day, after a particularly ridiculous pout, Liam laughed and pushed him in the shoulder gently. “You can tell you’re an only child.”
It didn’t have the reaction he had intended. Instead of continuing on jokily, Sebastian went suddenly quieter; suddenly softer and less... less him. He even frowned; God, Liam didn’t ever think he’d seen him frown before except in mockery. “Sebastian...”
The other man shook his head, sensing Liam’s fast-forming concern but momentarily unable to quell it. For a few moments there was silence; silence like time had stopped, though the fans continued calling outside - always calling; always - that it felt wrong when Sebastian broke it. Of course, what he said was even worse than this blasphemous intrusion into the quiet. “I... haven’t always been an only child. That’s all.”
“Oh. I...”
“It’s alright; you didn’t know. Nobody does.”
This rare moment of vulnerability was so much more beautiful than the cocksure, sexy Sebastian of the stage, and despite all the times Liam had tried to stop himself from touching him, he knew that this time was an exception; this time he could, and it wouldn’t be wrong. He reached a hand out to rest gently on his shoulder, and Sebastian seemed to pre-empt what was coming next; he almost fell forward, head dropping against Liam’s own shoulder - he mumbled, shameless but sad, words that he’d never spoken to anybody before. Not to Emily; not to anyone. “I was eight. He was five. His name was Charlie; he was... my brother.”
Liam didn’t say anything because there was nothing to say, but they with each other - lying against each other - for a while, the scent of Sebastian’s freshly-washed hair drifting in the air and hands stretching the meaning of ‘platonic’ as they touched. It wasn’t love. Love took time; but maybe it was the shadow of love, creeping over them as they drew, gradually, closer and closer to the light.
Pairing: Liam/Sebastian
Fandom: None; original
Rating: K
Word Count: 417
Summary: Sebastian's vulnerable side is even more beautiful than his stage face.
Notes: A tad depressing, sorry.
Sebastian was sulky, demanding and self-centred; he didn’t like it when he didn't get his own way, he pouted a lot, and if his dinner took too long he whined and complained until he eventually, inevitably, phoned for a takeaway that arrived just before his real dinner was served, and then ended up feeling sick afterwards, blaming everything - though not everyone - but himself. Liam sometimes found his petulance cute, and other times worthy of a roll of his eyes, but it was easily explained; when his family visited, there were no younger or older Sebastians.
One day, after a particularly ridiculous pout, Liam laughed and pushed him in the shoulder gently. “You can tell you’re an only child.”
It didn’t have the reaction he had intended. Instead of continuing on jokily, Sebastian went suddenly quieter; suddenly softer and less... less him. He even frowned; God, Liam didn’t ever think he’d seen him frown before except in mockery. “Sebastian...”
The other man shook his head, sensing Liam’s fast-forming concern but momentarily unable to quell it. For a few moments there was silence; silence like time had stopped, though the fans continued calling outside - always calling; always - that it felt wrong when Sebastian broke it. Of course, what he said was even worse than this blasphemous intrusion into the quiet. “I... haven’t always been an only child. That’s all.”
“Oh. I...”
“It’s alright; you didn’t know. Nobody does.”
This rare moment of vulnerability was so much more beautiful than the cocksure, sexy Sebastian of the stage, and despite all the times Liam had tried to stop himself from touching him, he knew that this time was an exception; this time he could, and it wouldn’t be wrong. He reached a hand out to rest gently on his shoulder, and Sebastian seemed to pre-empt what was coming next; he almost fell forward, head dropping against Liam’s own shoulder - he mumbled, shameless but sad, words that he’d never spoken to anybody before. Not to Emily; not to anyone. “I was eight. He was five. His name was Charlie; he was... my brother.”
Liam didn’t say anything because there was nothing to say, but they with each other - lying against each other - for a while, the scent of Sebastian’s freshly-washed hair drifting in the air and hands stretching the meaning of ‘platonic’ as they touched. It wasn’t love. Love took time; but maybe it was the shadow of love, creeping over them as they drew, gradually, closer and closer to the light.