Arms of the Angel (5/?)
Slight title change, because I think it fits better.
It took a ridiculous amount of shaking before Sebastian actually looked up at Santana, and even then he seemed to look through her with huge pupils. Santana groaned inwardly when she realized he was high as a kite. Clearly, Alodia had given him something.
“Sebastian,” Santana began anyway, “I don’t remember seeing you after Regionals. Did you run away?”
Sebastian simply blinked at her. Disgusted, Santana got off the bed, not even unrumpling her sheets, and curled back up on the couch.
She walks up to the counter at the Lima Bean and orders a cinnamon latte with uncharacteristic solemnity. Chatting with Brittany takes her mind off the fact that this is probably the last time she’s getting coffee with the rest of the Glee Club. It’s a cloudy day. To her right is a huge parking lot. To her left is a weather-faded poster on a pole, screaming HAVE YOU SEEN ME? It barely registers, but the face seems familiar and she drifts closer to it as she talks with the Cheerios. She bids Rachel good luck in New York, and shrugs it off when Kurt, nearby, gets a little choked up.
“You’re still going to have fashion,” Hobbit tells Baby Gay. “That’s something no one can take away from you.”
“But I didn’t apply to any fashion schools!” Kurt protests.
“That’s not what NYU says,” Blaine holds up an envelope. “I wasn’t going to show you this, because I was sure you were going to get into NYADA, but I applied to New York University in Stony Brook to get you this design scholarship.”
Kurt stares at Blaine like he doesn’t know whether to smack him or snog him. Santana turns around, not wanting to intrude on a private moment watch two guys make out. Then her eyes fall on the poster. It tells her that Sebastian Smythe has been missing since Regionals. She opens her mouth to talk about it, but Brittany says something about dolphins and she sees Sam bidding Quinn good luck at Yale and Mercedes giving Puck a goodbye hug and that lump comes back to her throat. Emotion crowds out her concern for a boy she barely knows and she calls for a group hug. She doesn’t see the poster again, nor does she think about it that night.
In her bedroom, someone fell with a crash. Santana burst inside, but Sebastian didn’t appear injured, just nauseous. Wordlessly, Santana pointed to her bathroom and Sebastian ran inside to throw up. Santana followed, wondering when she had gone soft.
She didn’t have much time to wonder, because she saw that Sebastian’s vomit was a clearish fluid, her heart stopped. “Jesus,” she said irritably. “When the fuck was the last time you ate?”
Sebastian shrugged. “I don’t feel hungry. I get too heavy to get food when the snow starts kicking in.”
Santana sighed and walked to her refrigerator to find a couple Jimmy Deans she had been too tired-just because Sebastian was far, far lighter than he should have been didn’t mean he was light-to heat a few hours ago and put them in the oven before an insane idea came to her. She had sat down in front of her laptop, looking up the symptoms of withdrawal as the sounds of Sebastian retching again reached her ears and she sat back down beside him as he continued to throw up bile and look pathetic. Not entirely sure her gesture would be welcome, Santana reached over to rub Sebastian’s back.
Be aware that the next chapter will be from Sebastian's point of view, and will have a different font. Actually, funny story, Sebastian's font is called "Californian," which is cool because it's where I'm from, and Santana's is called "Palatino Linotype."
It took a ridiculous amount of shaking before Sebastian actually looked up at Santana, and even then he seemed to look through her with huge pupils. Santana groaned inwardly when she realized he was high as a kite. Clearly, Alodia had given him something.
“Sebastian,” Santana began anyway, “I don’t remember seeing you after Regionals. Did you run away?”
Sebastian simply blinked at her. Disgusted, Santana got off the bed, not even unrumpling her sheets, and curled back up on the couch.
She walks up to the counter at the Lima Bean and orders a cinnamon latte with uncharacteristic solemnity. Chatting with Brittany takes her mind off the fact that this is probably the last time she’s getting coffee with the rest of the Glee Club. It’s a cloudy day. To her right is a huge parking lot. To her left is a weather-faded poster on a pole, screaming HAVE YOU SEEN ME? It barely registers, but the face seems familiar and she drifts closer to it as she talks with the Cheerios. She bids Rachel good luck in New York, and shrugs it off when Kurt, nearby, gets a little choked up.
“You’re still going to have fashion,” Hobbit tells Baby Gay. “That’s something no one can take away from you.”
“But I didn’t apply to any fashion schools!” Kurt protests.
“That’s not what NYU says,” Blaine holds up an envelope. “I wasn’t going to show you this, because I was sure you were going to get into NYADA, but I applied to New York University in Stony Brook to get you this design scholarship.”
Kurt stares at Blaine like he doesn’t know whether to smack him or snog him. Santana turns around, not wanting to intrude on a private moment watch two guys make out. Then her eyes fall on the poster. It tells her that Sebastian Smythe has been missing since Regionals. She opens her mouth to talk about it, but Brittany says something about dolphins and she sees Sam bidding Quinn good luck at Yale and Mercedes giving Puck a goodbye hug and that lump comes back to her throat. Emotion crowds out her concern for a boy she barely knows and she calls for a group hug. She doesn’t see the poster again, nor does she think about it that night.
In her bedroom, someone fell with a crash. Santana burst inside, but Sebastian didn’t appear injured, just nauseous. Wordlessly, Santana pointed to her bathroom and Sebastian ran inside to throw up. Santana followed, wondering when she had gone soft.
She didn’t have much time to wonder, because she saw that Sebastian’s vomit was a clearish fluid, her heart stopped. “Jesus,” she said irritably. “When the fuck was the last time you ate?”
Sebastian shrugged. “I don’t feel hungry. I get too heavy to get food when the snow starts kicking in.”
Santana sighed and walked to her refrigerator to find a couple Jimmy Deans she had been too tired-just because Sebastian was far, far lighter than he should have been didn’t mean he was light-to heat a few hours ago and put them in the oven before an insane idea came to her. She had sat down in front of her laptop, looking up the symptoms of withdrawal as the sounds of Sebastian retching again reached her ears and she sat back down beside him as he continued to throw up bile and look pathetic. Not entirely sure her gesture would be welcome, Santana reached over to rub Sebastian’s back.
Be aware that the next chapter will be from Sebastian's point of view, and will have a different font. Actually, funny story, Sebastian's font is called "Californian," which is cool because it's where I'm from, and Santana's is called "Palatino Linotype."