New to This || Sebastian Stan x Reader

the voicemail

september
post-production

Zână
I'm not with him
I just didn't want
to be alone

Seb
You don't have to
explain yourself
Don't worry

Zână
But I want you to know
There is nothing going
on between me and Patrick

Seb
I want you to know
that if there was, I'd
be happy for you
If he makes you happy

Zână
He doesn't
He just happened to be free
And I didn't want to be alone
That's it

Read 01:13

Sebastian sits at the bar, battery slowly dying as he stares at his screen. Hating himself because he knows he played a part in it all. In some twisted way. Letting it all happen.

Every time your name lights up on his screen he's taken back to that night in your hotel room in LA. Teaching you Romanian as you rested your head on his chest and he curled your hair with his fingers.

"What's dick?" You'd asked, drawing shapes on his skin.

"Uh... pula."

"Pula. That's great. That's what I'm calling you from now on. Yeah, Pula."

"There are much nicer things you can call me." He laughed, hand moving to the top of your arm. Leaving goosebumps as he tickled you. Your body shivered at his touch and he pulls you into him, palm resting at your elbow.

"I like Pula. I like it so much I'm gonna change your contact on my phone." And you sat up at that, his body cold suddenly without you against him.

And he watched you as your face lit up in the blue of your screen, biting at his lip as you smiled. You turned your phone towards him, the light bright as his eyes adjusted to read what you'd written.

Pula.

"Perfect." He said, holding his hands towards you, the tips of his fingers almost clapping against his palms as he asked you to fall into him again.

You did, lying back exactly how you'd been.

"What would you save me as in your phone?" You'd asked, his mind racing with words he didn't really get the chance to speak.

"Well, I've got you as Y/N. Because that's your name..."

"Names are boring." You looked up towards him, his chin shadowed by stubble. "Everyone knows my name. Imagine how many phones you're saved under Seb or Sebastian. Now you know you're someone's Pula."

"I already knew I was your pula, though." He laughed. "I don't know, you could like... pisi."

"I can guess what that means and it's a no from me."

"You literally just saved me as pula... ow!" You flicked his nipple and his hand almost pinched against your arm in response. "Fine. I don't know... zână."

"What's, zana." You didn't say it like he did, butchering the pronunciation and he laughs. Chest bouncing as he almost wheezes. "What? What does it mean?"

"It means fairy, but the way you said it." 

And that was it, you were Zână. The name taking him back to the calm on the bed every time he read it. To when your breaths were in sync, skin warm together and your toes grazing against his legs.

It's about three when he decides to call it a night, heading back to the hotel. Sunglasses blocking out the streetlights and dimming the stars above him.

He's drunk, but not enough to forget everything. He gets his phone out and his fingers stumble against the screen as he unlocks it.

It's not long before he takes a gulp as if it would help with his confidence. Hovering over the green button.

It rings in his ears as he walks, running fingers through his hair as he waits for someone to answer. No one does.

It clicks as the voicemail starts, giving him instructions on how to leave a message as if he's never done it before.

Then it's his turn to talk.

"Hey." He waits for you to answer before realising it's a machine. "Sorry. Fuck. I'm drunk, just to let you know. I mean it's three a.m. what else would I be doing? You're probably sleeping."

Next to him.

"I really fucked up. I know that. Rushing to get to this ideal... like this idea of how my life should be. Thirty-nine and not a single bit closer to it." He laughs, and it stammers as his voice breaks. Clearing his throat to rid of any signs of crying.

"And I hurt you. The most important person in my life and I'm so fucking sorry. I had my chance I suppose. I had you, didn't I? And it was good. But fuck... I just, I didn't know if you wanted me. I thought you just wanted Billy."

He's not sure where his hotel is now, looking around as he talks. Trying to figure out his way back.

"And I wanted Hannah. It was good. Wasn't it? What we had. And then one day I wanted you. Y/N. And I ran." He scoffs.

"And it got so messy." His chin trembles now as he tries to swallow at tiny whimpers. "I don't blame you, you know. For Patrick. For any of it. For cutting me out. For the off-limits. It's my fault. All of it. I wasted it all. It could have been us, couldn't it? On that path. Being each other's plus-ones to weddings. Arguing about the bed being a mess. I'd make you shit coffees in the morning and you'd complain about me burning the granules. I'd kiss you to shut you up, obviously. And, fuck."

And it's a real cry now. Thinking the alcohol was to help numb the pain of breaking up with Kalina but it was to help with the realisation he was too late to have you.

"Oh, fuck. I want you. Like you. Not Hannah. I think it's always been you, Y/N."

"My zână."