"Are you ever gonna take those headphones off?" Beth asked, eyes wide and curious. Oscar really wished he'd stayed off from school today, but he had an important revision session, so his mother had forced him in, if only until that lesson was done. Oscar pulled his phone out of his jeans, turning up the volume. "Apparently not," Beth mumbled, walking off to chat with her friends in homeroom. Oscar was sitting on his own, in the corner by the radiator, not making eye contact with anyone, hoping they left him alone. His mother had called the head teacher in the evening when she'd returned from the cinema, explaining why he'd left and asking if he could be excused, if necessary, from any lessons after his revision session. This had all been sorted while Oscar was holed up in his room, trying to hide from the world. Normally, he'd listen to acoustics; soft guitar songs with sweet lyrics that were kind on the ears. But today, in his current mood, he'd opted for something a bit more aggressive, all heavy guitars, screaming basslines, and lyrics full of hate and bitterness. He was absent-mindedly playing with his headphone chord when he felt a hand on his knee, and looking up, he saw Sebastian looking down at him, almost an expression of pity in his eyes. Or was that forced look of regret and remorse? He couldn't tell. He waved Sebastian off, shifting his knee so Sebastian's hand fell away, left hanging in the cold air between them. Oscar had no words for him. It wasn't that he was angry; he just didn't know what to say. Sebastian walked around to the left of him, sitting down on the beanbag beside him.
"H-hey, what-what's wrong?" The question was simple, spoken kindly, but Oscar wasn't really in the mood, so he just glared daggers at Sebastian, hoping that answer would suffice. Just leave me alone, he thought, changing the song on his phone to something even angrier than before. Sebastian obviously didn't get the message, and persisted with his questioning. "Oscar!" He shook Oscar's arm lightly, "Wh-what's wrong?"
"Nothing," he growled, sinking his head lower, pulling his knees tighter to his chest. Shrinking was Oscar's mechanism of comfort, but right now it wasn't working. The problem wouldn't just simply go away. The problem was sitting next to him, persistently asking him variations of the same question. Sebastian was the problem. But he was also the answer. And the reason. And everything in between. It wasn't as simple as making the problem go away. It would never be that simple.
"Well, if y-you're not going to-to talk, I'll just keep bug-bugging you until y-y-you do," Oscar could feel Sebastian's hand rest around his shoulder, sending shivers down his back, along his legs, all the way to his toes. Without realising it, and more importantly, without meaning to, Oscar smiled, a small smile that created tiny dimples either side of his mouth, his lips barely parting. "Ah, I see the g-grace of my presence has-has already improved y-y-your mood!" Oscar smiled again, letting out a small laugh with it.
"I guess it has," he looked over to Sebastian, who was smiling gently at him, head tilted to one side like a puppy.
"So are y-you going to tell me w-what was wrong yesterday? Or do I have to in-interrogate you to g-get what I need?" He chuckled, a deep, warm chuckle that caused Oscar's heart to stutter in his chest. His mind ran wild at the mention of 'interrogation', images like Sebastian pinning him against a wall in a cubicle in the men's room, kissing his neck roughly and- Oscar shook himself mentally, telling himself to get a grip.
"Well, maybe on my own terms," Sebastian laughed again, and Oscar could feel his whole face reddening, his hands shaking gently as he rested them on his knees. Sebastian took one of Oscar's hands into both of his own, pulling Oscar closer to him. Their faces were mere inches away, if that. Oscar could feel Sebastian's breath on his nose, and his heart was like a bass drum in between his lungs, or an entire army marching through his chest.
"Oscar," Sebastian's deep brown eyes locked onto his own, and suddenly Oscar's glasses felt irrelevant; he could see every single damn feature on Sebastian's perfect face in pure, high-definition, every line and freckle and hair, each layer of colour and depth in his eyes, the way his lips looked when he smiled. Everything. "I kn-know I've only known you for-for a couple of d-d-days, and this might seem a-a bit forward and out th-there," Oh God, he's actually going to do it, muttered some hidden depth of Oscar's subconscious, but he silenced it, willing his heart to slow down, even just a tiny bit, "but I want y-you to know," He's actually going to say it, "that," He's actually going to ask it, "I," SPIT IT OUT, "I am h-here for you, and if you're e-e-ever going through any-anything that you can't t-talk to them," he motioned with his head to Oscar's friends, who were across the room, "about, you c-c-can always find me. I pro-promise I'll help you if I-I can," Well that was a FUCKING disappointment. Way to go, loser, you got your hopes up for nothing. He probably has a girlfriend, anyway. Look at him; he's a fucking Greek god, for God's sake. How can he be single? Anyway, even if he was single, and that's a big if, he wouldn't be interested in you. Just drop it, man. Oscar looked down at the ground, feeling tears welling up in his eyes. Sebastian only saw him as a friend. Of course he did. "Oscar? Are you alright?"
YOU ARE READING
Oscar Wilson always sits in the same seat, in the same screen, in the same cinema. So why has he made an exception this time? Sebastian Knight might have won his seat, but hearts aren't easy to keep. This work of fiction contains some triggering top...
