New Years || Sebastian Stan x Reader

2015

You'd walked to the restaurant hand in hand, fingers cold in the New York air even though there was hardly any room to breathe from the business of the sidewalk. He'd given you his hat when you'd moaned about your ears stinging, not caring what your hair might look like when you get there and take it off. 

You're stood in the lobby now, brushing off tiny specks of rain off your shoulders, waiting to be called to your seats as he rushes to the restroom. It's loud, the room full of conversation and laughter. The night still so young but the year so old, nearing its end again without having much to show for it. 

Next year will be different. Maybe. 

"I thought that was you." The familiar voice stops everything in its tracks. Your breaths pause and your mind is quiet, your stomach twists and your heart drops. 

When you turn to face him, your mouth curls into a smile. To see him in the flesh instead of on magazine covers and through television screens. A year without him. Little tiny hints of Sebastian creeping up on you in random months in form of birthday wishes and random texts. But the conversation had run dry. 

And your phone had been quiet, no drunken calls or messages of apology the next morning.

"Sebastian." You say and he waits a little to see if you go to say something else. But you don't.

He leans in for a hug, and you let your arms wrap around his back before pulling away. A brief warmth as his smell fills your nose. It's different, softer somehow. His hair is short again, curling slightly at the top. You see the same tiny drops of rain in the brown as you had on your jacket, and you want to run your hands through them. Dishevel the perfection.

The man who was always styled.

"Y/N." It's a statement as he scoffs a laugh as if he couldn't believe it. "Are you alone?"

"No, I'm not alone. David's in the bathroom."

"Ah, David. That's right. The therapist. Well, boyfriend. Sorry." He mutters an apology and his cheeks blush as he pouts.

"Both."

"Still? How does that work, if you need to talk about him?"

"I don't." You say, bringing your hand to the cuff of your jacket, thumb tickling at your wrist and it calmed you as you spoke. Flashing a small smile, lips still closed. 

"Oh, yeah. That makes sense, too. I'm glad you're happy." Sebastian shrugs out of his coat now. The white of his shirt is so thin you can almost see the pink of his skin and the dark circles of his nipples. The purple suit jacket still not enough to take away from his eyes. 

"Are you alone?"

"No, Em's finishing off a call outside, I thought I'd make sure no one stole our seats. Apparently, they let anyone in here nowadays." He tilts his head at you and you think you see a hint of a nose scrunch but glance towards the door behind him, even looking at him harder than you thought it would be. 

"Hmm, yeah, even pompous actors."

"I'm not pompous, am I?" And his voice squeaks, brows furrowing with worry now as he looks for your eyes. For a hint of a joke. 

"I'm joking, Seb. I haven't had the privilege of meeting, Em, was it?"

"Yeah, Margarita. Margot. Maggie. Em." He's panicking, folding his coat over his arm. Thumb and finger rubbing at the hood. 

"Oh yeah, I've seen your Instagram. She's beautiful."

"Yeah. I'm very lucky. Maybe I'll get to meet David." You try to read his smile, but it doesn't curl but his cheeks still move.