Chapter Text
Sebastian never had much freedom. Before he became a prosecutor, he never did much of anything. His days enrolled in Themis Academy were either spent at school or cooped up in his room, twiddling his thumbs.
Well, maybe that isn’t completely accurate. He had a few things he could do:
- Complete the same hundred piece jigsaw puzzle he’s had for almost a decade for the thousandth time,
- Play Snake on his old flip-phone,
- Try to pick up his inherited instruments and hope Pops didn’t hear him play,
- Or, finally, study. (This was easily the one he spent most of his time on.)
He would’ve left his room more, if he wasn’t so scared of Blaise. Restlessness and unspent energy always clung to him like hair to his head. Weekends and summer breaks were a hell of understimulation.
But, very occasionally – maybe about once or twice a year – he finally, finally gets an opportunity. Despite how much he loved his father, it was the times when Blaise was gone that he felt the best. (Maybe he should’ve looked further into that feeling.)
They were always ‘business trips’, as Blaise called them. Sebastian never knew anything else about them. Maybe he wasn’t lying. But that didn’t matter; what mattered was the fact that Sebastian was home alone. Nothing looming over his shoulder. No ghosts to haunt him.
At first, he was still too scared to do much. What if Pops somehow found out? He’d be in huge trouble. Then he ventured to sit outside, then one day he went to the park, and it all culminated in the day he hitched a public bus just to see where it took him, a couple weeks before his graduation.
It wasn’t safe. Of course it wasn’t safe, not at all. He was 17 years old, traveling alone to who knows where. That was part of the fun, he thought. Sebastian didn’t prioritize his own safety very much; The thrill was the best part about it, the novelty, the fact that it was exciting and different. It was the times that Blaise wasn’t constantly looming over him that he became somewhat self-destructive, that spectacular feeling of risk only growing each time he wasn’t caught.
The ride wasn’t completely unplanned, of course. He wasn’t that stupid. If he ran away from home, Blaise would kill him. (That was a common thought – no, fear. A common fear he had.) He scoured through bus maps meticulously beforehand, making sure the one he hopped on would make a full loop back to his house after maybe a day or two. He wasn’t sure exactly when Blaise would be back, but that was a good guess. The uncertainty only added to the risk factor.
“I live life on the edge,” he’d say with a suave lilt to his voice, “All the best people do.” If only he fully realized being so deeply afraid of your father wasn’t exactly a good definition of ‘living life on the edge’.
On that exciting morning, Sebastian hopped out of bed, quickly grabbed his satchel (the very same one he brought to school, functioning as a backpack – it was tiny, he could barely fit his supplies into it, but he thought it looked cool), and rushed out his door just in time to catch the public transport.
As he sat down, taking a seat near the back (because that felt cool), his head was full with a single thought; Oh my gosh, I’m actually doing this. Even though it was planned the day before, it still felt impulsive. He hadn’t let himself really think about it until just now.
That feeling of excitement, of dangerous independence, of feeling like he’s really doing something – It stuck with him as he stared out the window while the bus doors creaked shut, beginning Sebastian’s adventure.
~☆
It was about what you’d expect from a normal bus ride. To most, it’d be nothing noteworthy. But to Sebastian, it was one of the most exciting things he’d done in his life, and to him, that was the best.
Glued to the window for the first half hour of the ride, seeing the surroundings he grew up with in an entirely new light, he barely even noticed someone sliding into the seat next to him until she gave a light chuckle. His head whirls around so fast it almost hurts.
“Absorbed, aren’t you?” With a coy smile, she peers around him, peeking out the window. “I guess the scenery is really nice here.”
“U-Um…” He hadn’t been expecting to talk to anyone. He just awkwardly nods. “Uh huh.”
Quickly sparing a glance back out the window, he absentmindedly notes that he’s already gone a long way; he doesn’t recognize this area.
Aside from the occasional few seconds of small talk, the woman didn’t say very much, and neither did he. Strangely, it didn’t feel awkward. Sebastian didn’t feel as obligated to talk as he usually did, and she was absorbed in something on her phone anyway. The quiet was nice. That was strange. He usually hated the quiet, when he was at home. Maybe he felt safer here.
Soon enough, though, as the day stretches on and people go about their commute, the bus starts to fill up more. His corner of the bus grows into a small pack of people. Based on their idle small talk, none of them seemed to know each other.
Sebastian finds his gaze lingering back to the conversations. After a few hours, the novelty of the ride had started to wear off a bit, and he felt his restlessness creeping back.
“‘Ey, kid!”
He jumps. Maybe peering over the seat wasn’t the sneakiest idea. The conversation the two people were having cuts off as they both turn to Sebastian. “Whatcha starin’ at?”
His finger taps his hand in a steady rhythm, fully leaning over the back of the seat. “I’m not a kid. You know… I’m practically an adult.”
He looks amused. Not a good start. Being called a kid always feels like a form of disrespect to him, and when you’re looking to be the best, respect is one of the most important things.
“On a trip with your momma, eh?” Mockingly. Of course everyone mocks him. Hitching a bus doesn’t change that, apparently. He’s so focused on the tone, it takes a few seconds for the actual words to sink in.
“–Nononono! What? No!” Sebastian starts defensively waving his hands back and forth. “This girl isn’t my mom! I don’t even know her!”
There’s a hint of genuine surprise. “You’re… travelin’ alone, then?”
With the upper hand regained, he smirks, and with that suave tone, Sebastian simply responds with “I live life on the edge.”
As the conversation lingers, he noticed the man being a lot nicer to him than that first impression would’ve suggested. It’s because I proved I’m really cool, he thinks. (The kindness was really out of some kind of pity, with him realizing this kid was on a public bus alone and guessing that was a daily ritual, but Sebastian didn’t need to know that.)
Naturally, the conversation drifts to how wonderful Sebastian is, his title of the best. Openly bragging about his perfect grades and his perfect future and his perfect pops, he attracts the attention of a few more commuters (or maybe he was just too loud to ignore). Now he’s really gathered a small audience. Even if they weren’t fully listening, it still felt so much better than the mocking he’s so used to. People laughing along, actually butting in with their own little quips… He feels his cheeks go pink with the attention. This is something he’d like to get used to.
Then his rambling is interrupted by the cheesy ringtone of someone else’s phone, and the discussion quickly shifts to music. Sebastian still wins the lead of the conversation, bursting into a full rant about this new up-and-coming band called the Gavinners and just how bad their music is. (With Sebastian, the most infamous student in Themis, just barely pushing Klavier to the title of second best student each year, they formed something of a rivalry. Looking back, it was mostly one-sided, but he never realized that.)
“Well, you said you’re the best, eh?” There’s another smug grin shot up at him. As Sebastian turns to look at it, the bus hits a pothole, making him jump. “Then surely you’d play better than this Gavinners punk?”
He gets a few expectant glances at that, an encouraging nod – and for the first time today, he shies away from the attention, pushing his chin into his hands.
“Uh, I’m… well, I’m not that good at music, really,” he mumbles, one hand sheepishly raising to his neck, “So…”
His attitude always quickly changes when the subject of his music is brought up. It’s one of his main interests to the point of 10-year-old him wanting to be a musician, but the idea of Sebastian being anything other than a prosecutor was discouraged to the point of punishment. It didn’t take much effort from Blaise to completely crush any confidence he had in music, and it’s the one thing he’s always been openly insecure about.
Of course, the sudden shift of confidence didn’t fly. With some hyping up from the crowd, he realizes he can’t get away from this now. He could never turn down a challenge. Taking a deep breath, Sebastian finally fishes the harmonica that he mostly brought as a good luck charm out of his satchel, holds it up, taps it a few times, and, with anticipation in the air…
Sebastian’s ditty gathers even more attention, giving him the intense, skin-crawling feeling of all eyes on me. It feels like he'll never get used to it. He has to cut the self-written tune even shorter than it already was, suddenly jerking the harmonica away from his face the moment he makes a small mistake and pushing the top of his head against the seat in front of him.
Anxiously, his hands ball up around the fabric of his pants. Any second now, there’s going to be a round of insults, mockery, oh, he’s an idiot for even thinking he could play an instrument right—
—but, of course, he’s met with a round of polite applause instead. The tune wasn’t bad. In actuality, he’s great at most of the instruments he plays, harmonica included.
Sebastian buries his face in his hands, completely flushing. The approval gives him one of the biggest rushes of pride he’s had in years.
~☆
The day goes by so fast. Sebastian is shocked at how dark the sky is when he finally hops out of the bus. He has to use the dim screen of his phone as a makeshift flashlight to make his way home. 2:49 AM, it reads.
He enters from the garage, making sure everything is undisturbed, and breathes a sigh of relief. That’s a habit he picked up years ago; Blaise always entered through the garage too. It worked as a good way to check whether he was home or not.
Almost tripping with every step, he stumbles up to his room, exhaustion seeping through every move he makes. Before he folds his phone back up, he looks through the photos he took that day with a gentle smile, and he deletes them all. Blaise checks his phone too often for it to be safe.
Evidence successfully wiped, he haphazardly tosses his phone onto the nightstand, too tired to bother disturbing the blankets. Once he climbs in bed, he almost instantly falls asleep, dreaming of the nameless people he’ll never see again.