[ Sky – Master Post ]
Title: The Top of the Well
Characters: Sin, Sebastian
Warnings: Expletives, bizarre relationship dynamics
Notes: The last of the flashbacks from Taste Like Sky. This started at like … two or three hundred words. Now, it can stand fairly well, by itself. Sin’s married, but he was drunk at the time. Sebastian can’t figure out why he’s so upset by this revelation.
Sin was twenty-three when the divorce papers arrived, from a girl he’d forgotten he married during a drunken trip to Las Vegas, over spring break, his sophomore year. By twenty-three, he was working a dead-end job as a clerk at a veterinary clinic and writing articles for journals at which most sensible people wouldn’t look twice. It was funny, though, even with nothing, he wanted to keep what was his, and the arrival of the packet from a Virginia court made him fear for his property, or lack thereof.
He left it opened, but unconsidered, on the bookcase for three days, before Sebastian found it. "Everett? Are you fucking serious? Your name is Everett?"
"No, it isn’t, but sometimes people call me that." Sin looked shaken, as he snatched the papers from Sebastian’s hand, setting them back on the bookcase. "My name is Singularity. I am indefinity personified."
"You’re fucking bizarre, sometimes, Sin." Sebastian shook his head and leaned against the wall. "So what does the state of Virginia want with this Everett-who-isn’t-really-you?"
"A divorce. He married her in a drunken stupor." Sin managed to extricate himself with a carefully constructed string, implying he’d married the state, which Sebastian would take as him being weird again. "And what do you want with me, at this hour? I have a deadline tomorrow, and I’m at twelve hundred of seven hundred and fifty."
"Dinner. You look like shit, and you need to eat." Stepping away from the wall, Sebastian glanced over the pile of typed sheets on the typing table. "Also, I’m hungry, and for once I don’t want to cook."
"Are you threatening to buy me dinner?"
"I am, and if you don’t take the nice offer, I might be forced to carry you out and feed you."
"You should be careful with what you say, people might think you’re asking me out on a date," Sin purred, grabbing his coat, and leaving Sebastian to sputter pointlessly, at his back. "Chinese?"
Sebastian opened his wallet and counted on his fingers. "If you want, I can probably manage that. I was thinking the soda joint, though. Coleslaw and chocolate soda."
"Ooh. Orange creme and a BLT." Sin paused for a moment, before pulling his coat on and stealing a kiss.
"Christ, Sin. Don’t say bacon. And if you eat it, don’t kiss me." Sebastian shuddered.
"What is it with you and bacon?" Sin asked, opening the door and holding it for Sebastian. "You and meat, really. The only meat I ever see you eat is when you get beef and broccoli from the Chinese place."
"My dad was a butcher." Sebastian shrugged, pulling the door shut, behind them. "I like vegetables. Call it a craving for the things I couldn’t have."
"And somehow, despite all that, you don’t like candy." Sin grinned back up the stairs.
"Fucking hate it. I really don’t understand why people eat things like that. The sugar burns."
"Nope, that’s just you. And you still drink chocolate soda…"
"And it’s the only soda I’ll drink. It’s less sweet. Hand-mixed soda always is, and chocolate just makes me happy, even if I can’t actually eat it." Sebastian laughed, sharply, and shook his head. "And it’s your fault, you know."
"Me? You lie."
"When have you known me to do any such thing?" Sebastian’s eyebrow arced up. "You’re the one who bought me one, that night."
"You looked like the chocolate sort."
"I was going to get a cup of coffee."
"Sorry you didn’t?"
"Not in the least." Sebastian reached past Sin and pulled open the front door. "So, moving off of things that I don’t talk about, lets get back to things you don’t talk about, Not-Everett."
"I had a family. They loved me very much, but they just didn’t get it. Now, I have you. You get it. The end." Sin shut the door, firmly, and tested the lock.
"Never been there. Not once."
Sebastian gave him a sharp look. "You’re married?"
"I don’t know. Someone, somewhere, seems to think I am." Sin shrugged. "I should probably fix that. I have no intention of maintaining that delusion, and neither, apparently, does the other party."
"How the fuck do you not know?" Sebastian stepped in front of Sin and grabbed him by the coat-front.
"It was Vegas, according to the paperwork. I don’t remember much from Vegas, except that I was drunk and I left with two hundred dollars more than I came with." Sin took Sebastian’s face in his hands. "Why are you so upset? I was seventeen. It’s probably not even legal."
"Soda," Sebastian replied, pulling away and stuffing his hands into his pockets. "I don’t even understand you. You just — how do you live? No, you know what? I don’t want to know. We’re going to dinner. Jesus."
"Avoiding the question much?"
"I don’t know what to say. I just feel sick. Do I need a reason?"
Sin sighed and grabbed Sebastian’s arm, turning him around. "Do you trust me?"
"Usually." Sebastian looked into the gutter.
"You know that I’m not drunk right now, right?"
"Yeah, I can usually tell when you’re drunk. What the hell does this have to do with anything?" Sebastian demanded, looking up.
"I love you, and I will never forget you. I will never walk away from you. You’re the only real person in the world. You are everything." Sin let go and traced a thumb across Sebastian’s cheek.
Pain and terror flashed across Sebastian’s face. "Don’t say shit like that. You don’t know what you’re talking about, and even if you do, I don’t."
Sebastian turned away and took a few steps. He hesitated, paralysed with uncertainty while Sin caught up.
"Batty, I mean it. I do. Even if —"
"Shut up, Sin." Sebastian hooked his arm through Sin’s, as if making a decision. "Dinner. I was going to take you to dinner."
"You’re the best."
It was just another evening; a Boston night like any other…