New Years || Sebastian Stan x Reader

2013

trigger warning: hints of domestic abuse

It was cold on the roof. Fingers, toes and the tip of your nose freezing, cheeks turning red and almost burning but you liked it. It's quiet and you're alone. The city is waking up around you even though you doubt it ever slept, building work already started somewhere and there are shouts from some alleyways as you look towards the water. 

The air was cold in your lungs and form tiny clouds of white in front of you as you breathe. And you're numb. The conversation you had this morning echoing in your head, the words not leaving. 

"Let's have a baby." It hadn't even been a year. 

"I don't think that's a good idea." You replied, your smile shaking. Your tone was cautious, even though your shock wanted your voice to squeak. "We have plenty of time for that, don't we?" 

"But, I want everything with you and I want it now." He says, hand on your hip as he stands behind you. Fingers digging into your waist as he brings his mouth to your neck. 

And he was happy, for now. Then. 

Your phone vibrates on the floor next to you and you answer it.

"Hey." 

"Hey." 

"Happy New Year." He says and you hear the smile in his voice even though it's an almost whisper. 

"Happy New Year, Seb." And your mouth curls, too. "Did you go out?" 

"No, we stayed in this year. What about you?"

"Stayed in, yeah. It was nice actually." You clench a fist with your free hand, trying to feel it again but the blood that pulses is as cold as your skin. "How's Jennifer?" 

"She's good, yeah." And he pauses as if he doesn't want to ask but he has to. "How's Mike?" 

"He's Mike." You say as if it answers his question. It's good enough for you as you want to avoid speaking about him. 

"And you?" Sebastian's voice always comforted you, bringing warmth to the crisp of the city.

"I'm good, yeah. I'm okay. How are you?"

"You don't sound okay." He says, ignoring your question. "You don't sound like you, actually. You haven't for a while now." And he pauses, giving you a chance to reply but you don't know what to say. "You can tell me anything, you know that don't you?"

"Mike wants to have kids." You blurt it out without thinking, still trying to process the idea yourself.

"What, like, now?"

"Yeah."

"And you? What do you want?"His voice has changed now as if he's moved, sitting up now instead of lying down. Nursing whatever hangover he'd managed from staying home. 

"Not that." You manage a scoff. "Not with him."

"Okay." Sebastian sighs, a sound of relief through the phone. "And he respected that, right? You told him it wasn't what you wanted?"

"I..."

"Y/N?" He presses, and you've heard the tone before. There's a breath in there that fills your name with disappointment as he says it.

"I don't know what to do, Seb." Your voice is slow as if Mike could hear you. "How did I get here?"

"What do you mean? Sweetheart, what does that mean?" You smile at the words now, his accent really coming through as he spoke. As it often did when he was angry. Or scared. Or both. "Are you happy?"

"No."

"Why are you still with him?"

Because you're scared. Because he's everywhere you look but nowhere when he's needed. Because you can't escape. Because he makes everyone laugh but you.

"I don't know. Look, it's fine. I'll be fine."

"Y/N..."

"Happy New Year, Seb. It wasn't the same without you." You say, thinking about the kisses you've shared at midnight.

Even last year, the heartbreak of seeing his lips on someone else had been better than last night. You preferred it over the shouting and the broken plate. Over the begging that followed. Mike's pleas as he wanted forgiveness but only after he'd called you names. After raising a hand at you, but he stopped himself as your eyes widened, your own hand clenching into a fist as if you'd hit him.

"I miss you, Y/N. Can we have coffee soon?"

"Sure, soon. Sebastian. Seb."

*

You're not sure when it happened, but you'd started exchanging long emails of conversation. They'd started short, sharing something you'd seen or pictures from his travels, but questions were added and the messages got longer.

You read them at night, the glow from your screen keeping you awake.

He'd sent this one a couple of hours after speaking to you and you'd lost count of the times you'd scanned the words. 

Hey

We've known each other for a few years now and I feel like I know you pretty well. I can tell when something's wrong. Or not quite right.

We haven't seen each other in months. You take longer to reply. When you do reply it's usually super early in the morning. Or night. Whichever way you want to look at it. Do you sleep?

I know I've made mistakes in the past and I hurt you. But I can't stand by and see you get hurt all over again by someone else. Because I love you, Y/N. You know I do. 

If you can't reply, meet me for coffee tomorrow? Our usual spot, at 2? I'll be there.

Sebastian. Seb.

You were lost in the blue of the light of your screen, the rest of the room dark around you. So you hadn't noticed his eyes scanning the words, reading along as you scrolled.

You didn't see the frown on his face, the anger in his eyes as you reached the name at the bottom.

"You can't go." His voice is loud in your ear and you almost jump, your heart skipping a few beats and your breath hitched. "What the fuck does he mean hurt by someone else? What have you told him? Who the fuck is he to say he loves you?"

"I didn't tell him anything." You manage, mouth getting dry as your palms get cold but wet. "I don't know, I don't know what he's talking about."

"You're not going, are you?"

And he does this, ask questions do it seems like you make your own decisions. But you don't.

"No. I'm not going."

"I don't think you should speak to him anymore. Friends are supposed to be supportive. He doesn't seem very supportive, does he? I think you'd be better off without him. Don't you?"

And you back out of the email, ignoring the words but not forgetting them. You feel his arm graze over your stomach. Something that was so comforting before, but as his fingers pulled you into him you met his gaze. Brows still low, waiting, thick above the green of his eyes.

"Yeah."

*