A/N: cliffhanger warning, and the next chapter won't be up immediately, but it will be soon, promise! So consider yourself warned!
Chapter 10
"Hey... what's wrong?"
Two years you've been working with Marcus.
Now it's done. Just like that.
"I think... I just quit my job." You breathe. Sebastian doesn't say anything as he looks at you, eyebrows raised. He pulls you into his apartment.
"What happened?" He's still squinting, voice low, his hair is sticking up at odd angles. In the back of your mind it occurs to you that he probably fell back asleep when you left and has been there ever since.
You open your mouth to explain but nothing comes out.
What did happen? Did you actually quit?
"I was... He just..." You just can't get the words out,
"Hey, it's fine. It's okay." He hugs you close, tucking your head under his chin, the tears you didn't realize we're falling are now soaking into his T-shirt. "It's gonna be alright. You'll be just fine, I know it."
You want to nod, but you can't bring yourself to agree. What about rent? What about food? How long would it take to find another job?
He doesn't rush you, he just holds you tight, rubbing your back until you pull back a little bit, the anxiety now curdling in your stomach,
"You feeling any better?" He asks hopefully,
"Kinda like I'm gonna puke, what about you?" His eyes shine like he wants to laugh day his words echoed back to him, but he also knows now isn't the time,
"A little better. Still not a hundred percent, though." He throws his arm back across your shoulders, leading you to the couch, "So let's take the rest of the evening to watch stupid movies and ignore the rest of the world." He makes you flop down onto the couch next to him,
"But I have to find--"
"You can go job hunting tomorrow. Or, better yet, the day after. Right now you need to relax, get yourself to calm down, think about what you want to do. Don't rush into another dead end just because you're worried about how to pay rent."
"But how am I supposed to pay my rent?"
"What did I just tell you?" He chuckles. "Pick a movie."
"I can't think about that right now." You sigh, leaning forward and letting your head drop into your hands. Your stomach was growing increasingly upset and the more you dwelled on it, the worse it got.
"Pick a movie." Sebastian says again, though even gentler this time.
You finally cave and drag yourself to his entertainment center, opening the drawer that housed most of his movies.
You stifle a giggle as you pop in a movie you haven't seen in years. When Sebastian cues up the menu he lets out a loud belly laugh,
"RENT? A little on the nose there."
"I actually love this musical, thank you very much, and you told me to pick a movie."
"You're right. I did."
You both settle into the couch, legs flung over armrests, shoulders leaned against each other. After the opening number, a song about not being able to make rent, of course, Sebastian speaks up. Almost letting himself be drowned out by the movie,
"I could do it." You look at him, confused,
"What? Broadway? I bet you could. And I definitely expect to be at that premiere!" You're only half kidding, though you've never actually heard him sing,
"No, not Broadway. I could pay your rent for you." You grimace,
"You're not paying my rent." You turn back to the movie,
"I could." He pauses it so you have no distractions, "If something gets in the way of you finding work before rent is due next month, I'll pay it for you."
"Seb, I don't like owing people like that."
"You wouldn't owe me anything..."
"I'm not going to let you pay for me."
"If it was between losing your apartment and biting back your pride to accept help, would you really refuse?"
Yes, he had a point. No you didn't want to talk about it, and he could tell.
"Just keep it in mind."
The anxiety from your fight with Marcus rolls back over you, bringing torrents of nausea with it. Your stomach gurgles and you jump up suddenly, surprising Sebastian as he's un-pausing the movie, and you make a mad dash for the bathroom.
You hardly have anything to vomit up, but your stomach insists, and you're crumbling to your knees at Sebastian's commode, yet again, as your stomach wrings itself out.
When you've finally finished, you're distantly aware of a cool cloth on the back of your neck and mopping across your forehead,
"You know, for a girl who can drink like you can, you sure have a sensitive stomach." He jokes, sitting down beside you, resting his back against his tub,
"You don't have anything to worry about. There are so many of us who will make sure you're doing just fine. Your parents, your friends... Me... Besides, you know that wasn't what you wanted to do forever."
"I know..." You concede with a groan,
"How did you even get into it?"
You haul yourself up, Sebastian holding your elbow for stability, and buy yourself some time by washing your mouth, trying to find the words, wondering if you really wanna go through this story.
"I've actually known Marcus for a while now." You begin with a sigh, "We met in college, back when he thought he wanted to be a history major." Sebastian pats the ground next to him when you pause, sensing this will be a long story, "After a while, he changed to photography and we started seeing even more of each other. I always kinda got the feeling he had a thing for me, but didn't want to bring it up and sound presumptuous or vain." You flop down next to Sebastian, stomach still on edge, but gradually calming, "We dated for a heartbeat right after Adam, my actor boyfriend, and I split. It didn't last long, not so soon after such an ugly break up. I think it was more of a rebound than anything, so we broke it off after about a month. He kept telling me he was okay with it, that he wanted to stay friends, that it wouldn't be weird... He convinced me it was true to the point that I was able to justify working for him when he opened his studio. I needed a job. He needed an assistant. I'd be working with a friend." You close your eyes, shaking your head with another sigh, "Am I making a mistake?" You frown at Sebastian, "Should I call him and apologize? Maybe I should just go back--" You try to stand, you need to call Marcus, but you're stopped by a hand on your wrist,
"I think you need to take some time." He says seriously, "This is the perfect opportunity to find the career that you want, start making a living doing something that makes you happy instead of barely making rent at a job that makes you feel stuck."
You settle back down slowly, knowing he's probably right.
"I can't do that."
"Yeah you can."
"But--"
"You can."
You sigh, surrendering. After a few more minutes you realize,
"We're missing our movie, aren't we?"
"Yeah, probably." He laughs.
.
.
.
After spending the rest of the evening at his place, ordering pizza for dinner, watching two more movies, chosen completely at random (Snatch and Blade Trinity, one of the oddest double-features you've ever had) you decided to call it a night, ignoring Sebastian's protests.
"Come on, neither of us has work tomorrow. All nighter!"
"We may not have work tomorrow, but the next day, I'm pretty sure you have somewhere to be, and I need to start job hunt--"
"Nope. You will not go job hunting until you know what you want to do."
You roll your eyes, not bothering to start that argument again, you were so tired.
The two of you make plans to meet up again the next night for a proper movie night: plenty of drinks, more food, candy, and pre-approved movies that may actually compliment each other. You also promised him you wouldn't let yourself think about finding a job until the weekend was over.
You really would try.
The next morning, however, you wake up sick again. You've never done well with anxiety.
You force yourself to find something to eat, regardless of how it may settle, for the sake of having something in your stomach.
The only thing you can stand the thought of is cereal, but opening your jug of milk, you smell it out of habit and find it sour. Your stomach lurches again, nearly throwing up all over your kitchen floor.
You check the date, you could have sworn it was still good... Until you glance at your calendar. Was it really the end of the month? Inching close to the end of summer?
'How could it possibly be so late in the year already?' You wonder wistfully, but then, your heart plummets as another realization hits you: your little red "x" reminder on that particular day of the month.
That day that has come and gone.
That day that came two weeks after your night with Sebastian.
"No..." You whisper, doing the math in your head, trying to remember, "no way." But you remember that day, you know you should have started, and you know nothing happened.
This isn't good.
This is very much not good.
You're late.
