Playlist - 13. Track 13) Ghostride - Crumb

March 16th, 1:50AM

Palms Boulevard, Sebastian realized, was familiar to him. Emile lived not too far off of it. As they only ever dated in secret, they’d only ever hang out at Emile’s place. Several times, Emile suggested that going back to Sebastian’s wouldn’t have been a big deal since Naveen already knew Emile, but he was far too afraid of risking any drawn conclusions.

Perhaps it was sleep deprivation that made Sebastian think calling Emile was a good idea. It hardly even qualified as a below-average idea.

Yet, Emile was willing to open his doors to his ex-boyfriend. For that, Sebastian was grateful; though, it probably was the least Emile could do since he dumped him.

Emile’s place was a duplex, like Ezra’s, but clearly this apartment had been constructed to be one from the very beginning. Streetlamps illuminated its indigo-hued face like a spotlight beckoning Sebastian over.

He could recall every love-struck stumble up to its stoop. Tonight, an alarmingly different trepidation fluttered through his heart.

“I hate this so much,” he muttered under his breath.

KNOCKITY-KNOCKITY-KNOCK

Emile nearly ripped the door off its hinges. His face was shrouded in a blurry frustration. Like at Shout, Emile’s face looked different than what Sebastian remembered. Whenever his mind tried to recreate his visage, it seemed to be shrouded in some sort of mist… like his appearance never quite imprinted itself on Sebastian, mentally.

Though, for this particular night, it may just be the irritation of a 2AM desperate plea from his ex-boyfriend contorting Emile’s face into something slightly less familiar. Also, he wasn’t wearing his glasses, which strangely depleted much of his character.

Then, his ex crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame. “I feel like there’s a good story here,” Emile mused.

Sebastian rolled his eyes and replied, “Like you wouldn’t believe. Can I use your bathroom?”

“I thought you just needed a ride home?”

“So I’m not allowed to have a functioning bladder and need you to drive me back at the same time?” Sebastian snapped. He wanted to make it sound playful, but he didn't have the energy to hide his impatience.

Emile stepped aside and welcomed Sebastian inside with a toss of his head.

When they were together, the two would jump each other’s bones as soon as the front door shut behind them. Sebastian liked to imagine that the narrowness of the foyer was an easy way to excuse closing the space between them; in the privacy of Emile’s apartment, Sebastian knew how to be passionate and excited… once upon a time. Now, two weeks later, the foyer just felt cramped, not quaint.

Emile’s job being Clara Ducasse’s manager/agent/best-friend-with-a-significant-age-difference was very lucrative, so he was able to afford keeping his apartment obnoxiously picturesque. He had several healthy looking plants thriving around the living room. Thriving foliage blanketed the wall by the front window; seeing it often reminded Sebsatian of his mother. How different Emile lived his life compared to his own... it at one time infatuated Sebastian. Now it only felt intrusive to even stand in Emile's domain.

When Sebastian was finished using the bathroom, he found Emile sat out in his Wayfair loveseat, arms crossed with a floor lamp lit just above him. All he needed was a long-haired cat to stroke in his lap and he’d look like a contemptuous supervillain reveling in catching his nemesis.

…that was contempt on his face, right?

“Ready to head out?” Sebastian cautiously inquired.

Emile paused. It was an agonizingly long pause before he plainly instructed, “Sit down.”

Oh god, Emile wasn’t acting like a supervillain. He was portraying the role of the parent who stayed up all night waiting for their kid to return home after breaking curfew. Sebastian expected his ex’s next words to be something along the lines of “you’re in big trouble, young man.”

He sat on the white sofa perpendicular to Emile and placed his knees together.

“So, what the fuck happened?” Emile said, squinting at Sebastian once more.

“Why does it matter?” Sebastian defended, “I had a shit night out. I’m too far home to walk there. It’s Stef’s birthday tomorro- er, I guess it’s past midnight, so today and-”

“Wait, wait, Stef. Like, your sister?” Static charge clung on the word “sister.”

Right.

Emile and Sebastian had been dating for a while, long enough for Sebastian to confide in Emile much of his family’s sordid history. Including Stef. Would he dare clue him in on what was in store for him regarding his father?

It wasn’t worth it. Sebastian let out a heavy sigh. “Yeah. I kinda don’t want to get on Stef’s bad side. Again. That’s why I need to get home,” he pleaded.

The curious, concerned squint in Emile’s eye didn’t waver, however. “What happened to you last weekend?”

“C’mon, Emile…”

“I feel like I’m owed that, at the very least.”

That sparked something hot. There was a verbal underlining on that word “owed.” Sebastian actually laughed. “You’re owed that? You dumped me. I’m not a character in your story anymore, Emile.”

“Yet here you are,” snipped Emile. He shrugged and coyly added, “I mean, I can just not drive you home and leave you out to wander the streets at 2AM.”

“You wouldn’t,” Sebastian called his bluff.

“You’re right. I wouldn’t. But I’m serious. Seeing you out there was a lot, to put it lightly,” he explained.

Sebastian had just managed to sort of tuck his bad experience at Shout the previous weekend away now that he’d cut Miles out of his life. He’d grown tired of replaying it in his brain, let alone relaying it out loud.

Regardless, he acquiesced. “I got preyed on by a bar creep.”

Emile leaned back pensively. He said nothing.

“And,” Sebastian continued, “the guy you were making out with, Miles. He came to ‘save’ me. He’s, well, he was my friend. I might have had some sort of feelings for him. Dunno.” He tried his best not to breathe any light in saying Miles’s name.

“Was?” Emile pressed.

Now, it was Sebastian’s turn to say nothing. He just averted his eyes to one of the several supersized plants across from them.

“Oh Sebastian, you didn’t,” Emile sighed knowingly.

“Don’t give me that shit, Emile,” Sebastian huffed.

“What shit? All I’m saying--”

“What gives you any right to say anything about me anymore?!” Acid burned Sebastian’s tongue.

Emile braced himself against his loveseat and countered, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Sebastian glowered, “that, again, you broke up with me. Whatever I’m going through, good or bad, shouldn’t matter.”

A slow pensive clouded in Emile’s pale eyes. He waded through another long pause, before he exhaled, “You liked him, huh?”

“What?”

“That guy. Uh, Miles,” Emile said. A touch of pink heated around his ears after saying the musician’s name probably for the first time.

“I… I don’t know. Sorta,” he admitted.

“Look,” his ex-boyfriend began, “I never would have intentionally made things messy for you, Sebastian.” Sebastian immediately tried to defend himself, but Emile spoke over him, “But! You know I broke up with you because you were still… ahem… ashamed of being gay.”

Sebastian squirmed like a centipede under a microscope. Despite it being such a passive statement, it hit Sebastian like a forthright confrontation.

“For all it’s worth, and that may not be much since you’re right in that it shouldn’t matter to me… it’s nice to see you inching your way out of that,” Emile concluded. He got up from his chair and looked over Sebastian. “It’s nice to see you letting that part of you out.” The light burst around his silhouette.

It could have been smart to have told Emile about Ezra, how Sebastian clearly had hit it off with the bartender. Maybe he’d be able to rub it in Emile’s face that he certainly was letting that part of him out. Though, that wouldn’t have been very appropriate considering the whole “ex-boyfriends” thing between them, so he kept that to himself.

“Do you…” Emile murmured, still standing above Sebastian, “Do you just wanna crash here?”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. Just what was he suggesting?

“Don’t get any ideas, Sebastian. I just mean you can crash on my couch. Um… since you kinda are already,” his ex explained. He gestured an open hand to Sebastian, who was now splayed back on the sofa.

“I’m not that tired,” replied Sebastian, half-asleep.

“You are not a very good liar, Sebastian.”

“Hey, I convinced Naveen I was straight for a while.”

“Oh? So now he knows?”

“Shit, haha. That’s a story worth telling… has he told you he’s been dating this girl?”

March 16th, 10:58AM

Polar waters cut into Sebastian’s skin. His fingers were covered in viscous blood and his breath ran ragged after ages passed, trying to claw his way out of the pit. The shadows that stood over him were people he recognized; they had no faces, they had no forms, but nevertheless, he knew them. They tossed more water over him, slicing his face with arctic fever. Each chill felt as strong as a bullet. The deluge was never-ending, like waves slamming a lost swimmer against the breach.

CRASH!

“Crap!”

Sebastian bolted awake. “Huh-wha?!”

It took a few seconds for him to get his bearings. He propped himself upwards to see Emile cleaning up what looked like scrambled eggs off the floor.

That’s right. He had stumbled his way to Emile’s after being unable to sleep at Ezra’s. Oh! And Ezra! Shit, did he text?

Sebastian pulled out his phone to see… no notifications. Actually, he had gotten a text; Audrey had sent a dozen “pair of eye” emojis, imploring him for more information about his steamy night with the bartender. If only she knew where Sebastian wound up. Well, it wasn’t so bad, it just meant sleeping with Ezra would be a challenge for him to overcome, not a line in the sand between them. Sebastian figured he should at least text Ezra, then, to be clear that everything was still good between them.

“You’re up,” Emile declared from the kitchen. Sebastian stopped texting and looked up; Emile held up a pan and said, “I don’t think you’ll have time for me to make you breakfast.”

“Was that it all over the floor?” Sebastian teased. When they were dating, Emile would usually make a hasty plate of scrambled eggs for both he and Sebastian; it took longer than it probably should for Sebastian to stop requesting bacon alongside the eggs.

Emile placed the pan in the sink. Over his shoulder, he tossed defeatedly, “No that was my breakfast.”

Sunlight peeked through foliage by the front window.

“Hey… what time is it?” Sebastian asked.

“Uh… just past eleven?”

Sebastian let out a sigh of relief. “Oh thank god, I have a few hours.”
“Stef’s birthday?” Emile questioned, with a bit too much interest dangling at the tail end.

Sebastian turned to the entrance. “Yeah.”

“...you know, it just occurred to me,” Emile mused, “I don’t actually know where you live.”

“It’s where Naveen lives.”

“Naveen and I are more like acquaintances than friends, Sebastian.”

Sebastian flared his nostrils. “When we were together, you kept saying that you two were close enough where it wouldn’t be weird for you to come over,” he snipped. How convenient that now Emile didn’t consider Naveen familiar.

A rapid jangling noise twinkled behind Sebastian. “Know what? I’m not doing this shit with you today,” Emile stated with a sudden gruffness. “Just get your stuff and tell me where to go.”

Sebastian rubbed his fingers against the smooth fabric of the couch. He was not the one being unreasonable here, was he?

Fortunately, Sebastian had little stuff to collect since he’d only brought his keys, wallet, and phone for his night out. He patted himself down, doing a mental check of each item.

“Come on, come on,” Emile huffed. He dangled his car keys in front of Sebastian’s face, making more jangly noises, and icily said, “Time for you to check out.”

Yeah… Sebastian totally touched a nerve, he knew now. Emile only got this rigid when Sebastian had put his foot in his mouth. Mom got like that, too. The sort of “I’m not going to tell you that I’m mad, but I expect you to know anyway” attitude. Since Sebastian had been trained to anticipate that all through his childhood, he’d pathetically become adjusted to this frozen feeling. Trying to chip it away risked agitated Mom, or Emile in this case, further.

So, he kept quiet and followed his ex-boyfriend outside.

The sky swam clear above; not a cloud disturbed its azure peace. Stupid fucking peaceful day.

Emile stirred his cherry red, obnoxiously bougie Lexus awake. “Your chariot awaits,” he welcomed with a saccharine grin.

Sebastian stewed silently and he planted his rear into the passenger seat.

“Do you want the aux?” Emile asked with an anticipatory glimmer in his eyes.

Of course Sebastian wanted to play his own music; otherwise, they would have been stuck listening to Emile’s selection of flavorless music from the 2000’s and flavorless music from the 2010’s. They both knew Sebastian would have rather walked the six hours back to Glendale than submit himself to that. However, Sebastian still knew what music they could see eye-to-eye on… or rather, hear ear-to-ear on?

As Emile reversed the car out of the tiny driveway, Sebastian put on Fleetwood Mac’s best hits.

Immediately, Emile switched to genuine happiness. “Oh, hell yes!”

“Hmph,” Sebastian proudly grunted, attempting to stifle a cocky smirk. It hadn’t been that long since they were together, after all; even if somehow, his brain felt detached from Emile, Sebastian knew his way around people’s music tastes.

“Hey, I haven’t listened to them since--” Emile stopped himself and tightened his fingers around the steering wheel. Of course, they both knew how he would have finished the sentence.

Since they’d broken up.

March 1st, 4:02PM

“What about this one?” Emile warbled. He pulled up a cream-colored album, picturing Stevie Nicks bowing in a flowing shawl next to a gallantly-stood Mick Fleetwood.

Sebastian scoffed. “Rumours? That’s like every record collector’s first album.”

Sebastian and his boyfriend were spending the day together for their three-month anniversary. They hadn’t really spent a whole day together before. Certainly plenty of nights together, but in broad daylight, they were either too busy to or Sebastian had found a way to weasel his way out of keeping around too long.

Before dinner, Emile insisted on taking Sebastian to a record store. Not Tap Vinyl, Sebastian’s regular haunt in Burbank, but this white-walled, wide-windowed place in DTLA called “Rockabilly.” The name alone put Sebastian on edge; it seemed like whoever named the place purposefully avoided including “Records” or “Vinyl” or anything to signify what the place actually sold, like they were pretentiously relying on status they hadn’t earned.

Unfortunately, judging by the size of its crowd, Rockabilly had status. At least, it had status among more casual customers. Several other twenty-somethings stalked around the polished plastic bins, flipping through albums like they would a rolodex.

“But Dreams is on it!” Emile sang, putting the Fleetwood Mac record back in the bin he’d found it in. He shot Sebastian a hungry look.

“Totally. I just prefer Tusk,” he returned, oblivious.

Emile inched towards his boyfriend and slyly smiled. “Mm… and why’s that?”

Sebastian took a cautious half-step back. He hated when Emile got like this. So many people were around them, so many strangers. What if they figured out they were a couple? …was there even an answer to that question?

“W-Well,” he explained, “They stripped out all the admittedly beautiful, uh, ‘whimsy’ on Rumours. Like…there was edge, there was angst, there was noise, you know? Madness and sadness. Like, ‘Save Me A Place’? ‘Tusk,’ the song? No way they’d ever fly on Rumours.”

Judging by the patient but wary nods, Emile had no idea what Sebastian was going on about. That was disappointing. Sometimes, Sebastian hated when he whipped himself into an eager rambling about music; rarely did anyone ever seem to follow. Nevertheless, his boyfriend chipperly offered, “I’m sure I can find that album here, too.” He bumped his hip against Sebastian’s.

“Ah!” Sebastian yipped.

Emile blinked at him as if to say “What the fuck was that about?”

“S-Sorry,” Sebastian apologized. “Anyway, I already have it, too.”

“I’ve only ever heard the first album, I think,” Emile lazily said. He started through the vinyls in the bin by him absentmindedly. “I really like it, though.”

“Lemme play you more of their stuff in the car to dinner.”

“Okay,” Emile chimed. He tried to bump his hip against Sebastian’s again, but Sebastian anticipated it and pretended like the Staff Picks shelf had caught his eye. Consequently, he had to pretend he didn’t hear his boyfriend’s defeated sigh behind him.

March 16th, 11:35AM

Sebastian finished, “The break-up. Right.”

Emile swallowed a lump down his throat and dryly repeated, “Right.”

As if there were a cruel god above choosing the soundtrack of Sebastian’s life-story, the song “Never Forget” warbled out of the car’s speakers. A song all about treasuring time with someone was exactly the opposite of the vibes between Sebastian and Emile.

They hardly had any time to talk about the break-up. Not like there was really any reason to discuss it; if not for Sebastian running into Emile last weekend, he probably would have not have had the gall to reach out for a ride this weekend.

Though he kept his face-forward, Emile kept flicking his eyes to Sebastian, as if he were anticipating an emotional explosion. Sebastian refused to give him the satisfaction, but he had no doubt steam was whizzing out of his ears. Yes, even the thought of the break-up still stirred up a bit of frustration. Especially so that Sebastian was sitting next to the perpetrator. In his stupid, unaffordable, gaudy SUV that they totally didn’t make out in the back seat on more than one occasion way back when.

They hit a red light.

Sebastian glued his stare to a young woman walking a massive doberman pinscher. Somehow, the quiet between him and Emile became stiffer when the car was stopped.

“You know--” Emile began.

“Light’s green,” Sebastian interrupted. He was fortunate that, indeed, it turned green just as he cut Emile off.

His ex-boyfriend defeatedly sighed and wallowed into the quiet.

Maintaining the silence became a tacit competition and Sebastian nearly laughed out loud as the thought crossed his mind. But then he’d lose, and there was no way he was going to give Emile that satisfaction.

Because Emile was the villain here… wasn’t he?

Sebastian wasn’t the villain. No way. What did he do wrong? Perhaps he was flawed, but… that didn’t warrant being dumped.

Or was it that people were just always going to let him down then? Emile couldn’t offer enough of his heart to wait for Sebastian to figure himself out. The more he thought about it, the more he began to realize there was a missing piece here, something that he wasn’t seeing.

“Whoa,” Emile breathed. He lost, which made Sebastian hold back a smug snort. But then, Emile jabbed a finger to a billboard hanging high above the road. “Look at that.”

Tentatively, Sebastian followed his finger. The billboard was advertising a television show; certainly not uncommon in Los Angeles. The show’s name, Cinder, was written in infernal red and black font, and apparently it was available to stream soon. Next to the title, two women, backs turned, shot sour looks at each other.

True, Sebastian did have an exceptional interest in television, that was no secret to Emile seeing as they dated for three months. However, with all the chaos in his life, he’d not really had the energy in him to muster up a look at the latest shows coming out. In fact, he was about to ask his ex just what exactly was so interesting about Cinder, when he stopped..

The woman on the right caught his eye. Sebastian knew her. Not because she was an actress and he’d seen her in some other show or movie, no; he had met her. How…?

She was older, maybe in her forties, but clearly aging wonderfully. The light in her photo caught the cool tones of her dark skin perfectly. The snarling scowl she had on looked poised, not spiteful.

Wait, that was Emile’s main client, Clara Ducasse.

“That’s the show I booked Clara, remember?” Emile exalted.

…yes, Sebastian now remembered.

December 20th, 9:22PM

By the tone of his roommate’s voice, Sebastian was sure Naveen was desperate for someone, anyone, to come with him to an after-work drink. Apparently, a client of his (he worked at a radio station or something, right?) was insistent on talking with him further outside of “business.” So, here he was in a golden-lit lounge off Melrose Avenue aptly called “Melrose Umbrella Company.”

The client, an actress named Clara Ducasse, was in her mid-forties. She was one of those actresses who probably was seen as “past her prime,” reduced to being cast as mothers and the occasional hard-ass boss in sitcoms. Sebastian had actually done a quick web search about her when Naveen told him that’s who they were meeting. She had been a regular on some television show before he was born, so Sebastian was sure to bring up he recognized her from it… even if he actually had never even heard of her until that night.

Though, there was a surprise guest joining Naveen and Sebastian, too. Apparently, Clara brought her manager almost everywhere she went: Emile Peltier. He was a tall, young man with feathery, sand-colored hair who seemed more like Sebastian’s age, not Clara’s.This made for a somewhat jarring age difference between Emile and the actress.

“Her last manager died,” Emile explained to Sebastian when they got up to the bar to get the group a round of beers.

Sebastian swallowed. “...What do you mean?”

The manager pushed up his eyeglasses and shrewdly pointed out, “You were thinking it, right? How could someone so young manage someone so seasoned?”

Since he couldn’t deny it, Sebastian said nothing. That got a tiny, but proud, smirk to cross over Emile’s face.

“Craig was really old. And really depressed. I was her assistant before this, and I offered to fill in while he looked for new management…” Emile said. He rolled his hand as he talked, explaining the series of events like items off a list. “Her search went on for a month. Then one month turned to two. Two turned to six. Six months turned into a year… and well, here we are.”

Sebastian wanted to ask why this total stranger was telling him all this, but he knew that might have been a bit too direct. So instead, Sebastian put on his best “I know how to be social” face and questioned, “You must be good, right?”

Emile shrugged and looked on at the table Naveen snagged earlier, where he and Clara were still seated. “I’d say I am, yeah. It’s the reason why she did this interview with your friend.”

“Ah, Naveen’s more so my roommate.”

“Oh… well, he’s going to join my running group. If you want to come…?”

Running? Did Sebsatian really look like the type who could even get back to their table at a swift pace? He chuckled to himself and muttered, “Nah, nah… That’s definitely not my thing.”

“Hmm… what is your thing then, Sebastian?” Emile pressed.

That question got Sebastian’s skin crawling. It wasn’t the question itself, but who was asking it. Why did this guy who met him all of twenty minutes ago care to know more about him? But, he shoved his hands in his pockets and robotically responded, “I work in music production.”

“Oh!” Emile gasped. His eyebrows pinched up. “Not everyday you hear that.”

“Eh. It’s what I’m good at,” Sebastian softly said. This was only part of the truth, of course, but Emile didn’t need to hear just how much Sebastian loved music. It wasn’t just his biggest interest in life, it was his life.

A moment passed between them, as they simultaneously turned their attention to the table Naveen and Clara Ducasse were still seated at. Naveen and Sebastian met eyes even through all that distance currently between them. Actually, this might have been the first time he and his roommate ever sustained eye contact this way. Naveen had a richness in his gaze, a sort of gentle curiosity seeping through them that, otherwise, wasn’t visible on his stone-cold face.

Emile suddenly leaned in close to Sebastian, but still kept himself a quarter-turned to their table behind them. With a conspiratorial look in his eye, he said, “She’s got the lead in this huge new show, streaming in spring. They’ve started post-production, so…”

“So you all are trying to get her name back in people’s minds as the air date comes,” Sebastian knowingly finished. He looked into Emile’s eyes and sucked in a sharp breath. Was it how the light was catching him? Or was he really that handsome? His pale face was smooth like Grecian marble, and his thin lips were curled into an endearing smile.

Emile took a half-step even closer to Sebastian, keeping that smile on, and hummed, “Correct.”

The bartender flagged down Emile, then she set down four bottles, each a different brand because of course, all of them were painfully fastidious in their beer of choice. Emile signed the receipt and left the merchant copy on the counter. He took two and jerked his head to the other pair. “Ready to go?”

Sebastian nodded. Just as he pulled his hands out of his pockets, Emile cleared his throat.

Again, the man leaned in close to Sebastian, but the mischief that once colored his expression now heated into something… well, a bit sexy. His glasses had slid down his nose perfectly so that he was looking over their rims, nothing between his stare and Sebastian’s.

In a whisper, Emile uttered, “I don’t know if you’re, you know, interested but… I think you’re really hot.”

Sebastian swiped his hands back so quickly, he nearly knocked the drinks out of Emile's grasp. Thankfully, Emile’s reflexes were quicker than Sebastian’s closeted-gay-panic.

“Shit, you are straight, huh?” the tall man backpedaled, “I didn’t mean to make things awkward.”

“Uh…!” Sebastian stammered. Synapses were firing at a hundred-times their speed. He practically could feel his brain melting down into a sticky goo between his ears. A guy had never flirted with him before; at least, not when Sebastian was sober. Even then, since he was drunk during those college parties, it was Sebastian who worked up the courage to clandestinely flirt with unsuspecting queer students who hardly knew his name, guys he’d never see again once the sun came up.

Well, this Emile guy was also never going to see Sebastian again.

…unless Sebastian let him.

“Look, would it be okay to just ask you to pretend like this didn’t happen?”

Sebastian had flown so far from Earth, it took him a second to process that Emile was speaking again. By the time he registered that, Emile was already readying to head back to the table.

“W-Wait!” Sebastian clamored. He swiveled on his heel, putting his back to face Naveen and Clara. Emile raised an eyebrow, so Sebastian jerked his head to gesture for the man to turn away, too.

“What’s up?” Emile whispered, now facing the same way.

“...my roommate doesn’t know I’m… you know…” admitted Sebastian, picking at the label of one of the beer bottles in front of him.

“Oh.”

“But! Um… I think you’re cute, too.” God, Sebastian knew his face had to be beet-red; he was so flustered. He’d never say this sort of thing normally. Just what sort of spell was this guy putting over him?

Emile looked down at the counter. His expression was noticeably guarded. “Still, maybe I shouldn’t have overstepped.”

Immediately, Sebastian swiped the merchant copy still laying next to the actual receipt on the bar. His hand quivered so much trying to scrawl his phone number on the paper, it looked like he tried to write it in an earthquake. How fucking pathetic. He somehow still slid the paper (as discreetly as he could) to Emile and quietly pleaded, “Let’s talk later.”

Emile hesitated. A wrinkle formed between his faint eyebrows.

But thank god, thank all the spiritual powers that be, he took Sebastian’s number. Now, he just had to hope for a miracle that Emile would call it after. If Sebastian could last through the night without imploding-- just what did he get himself roped into?

March 16th, 12:29PM

Sebastian found himself asking the same question again. What did he get himself roped into? How could the dynamic between him and Emile change so much, so quickly? What was he missing?

“Is this it?” Emile sighed. He pulled to the curb and half-heartedly rested a hand on the steering wheel. With his free hand, he pointed to Sebastian’s building like it wasn’t obviously in view from Sebastian’s spot in the passenger seat.

“Uh… yeah,” responded Sebastian. He wondered if Naveen was home, which prompted another thought to cross his mind. “Hey… Do you and Naveen still run together?”

Emile scoffed and sharply said, “Just because you and Naveen are cool now doesn’t mean you’re allowed to now split friends after we’ve broken up.”

Oh. Ouch.

Sebastian swallowed a lump down his throat, unsure of how to respond.

Perhaps realizing his hostility, Emile’s face softened. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I was just curious,” Sebastian said. Outside of the car, a nearby tree waved hello in the wind. Perhaps it was time for him to go.

“...We do,” Emile meekly answered. “We do run. Sometimes. Last time we went running, he said you all smoked.”

“Haha… yeah…” sighed Sebastian, faintly remembering his night out with him and Audrey at the Wisdom Tree. He silently appreciated that Naveen must have feigned clueless to Emile about them dating, otherwise that must have been a hell of an awkward run.

Perhaps for the first time since Sebastian walked into Emile’s place last night, a sober peace settled between them. After such a wild sixteen hours, this placid moment actually felt a lot like a comedown from one of his more intense drug experiences back in the day. Was Sebastian old enough to even have a “back in the day” period in his life?

“You should go.”

“I should g-- oh.”

They both spoke at the same time. Sebastian stopped short, however, realizing Emile was officially done with him for the day. Yeah, perhaps he deserved that, too.

Emile’s face immediately flushed pink and he sputtered, “I-I’m not trying to kick you out! It’s just, like, your sister’s birthday and all that!”

But Sebastian didn’t believe it. It was just a convenient excuse to get to what was inevitable; the inevitable fallout from this terrible mistake Sebastian had made. He should have just sweated it out at Ezra’s; at least that was one relationship Sebastian hadn’t yet fucked up. Even if Ezra slept like a crazy person, could Sebastian could bargain for anything more considering all the insanity Sebastian had storming around himself.

“I get it,” Sebastian exhaled. He dropped his head and opened the door.

Emile let out a long sigh, and he might have even tried to say something more to Sebastian, but it didn’t matter. Sebastian was already halfway to the door before he had the time to.

Perhaps if this were a story with a happy ending, this car ride home would have gone better. The two would have recompensed, recalling all the good times they once shared and come to an understanding that their time together had run its course, free of guilt, free of confusion and blank space. But that wasn’t Sebastian’s story, no.

He was going to have a hell of a lot of rewrites to suggest for whoever was putting him through this tragedy.