Sebastian Stan Imagines

strange love part 2*

part 2 to i'm okay though

Now

You were in the club, a little black dress clung to your curves, as you swung your hips side to side. You found a new way to cope, to let go of stress. Every weekend you came to a club, sometimes the same one, sometimes new. But physical activity usually enables you to cope with emotions. That didn't mean sex. It just met something physical, if someone you liked showed up though, you'd try to maybe get their number, go home with them if you knew them. If you were too busy to stop by a club, sometimes it was cleaning the house, always being able to move on your feet when needed.

You felt the sweat cling to your forehead and arms and walked over to the bar for another water. If you came with a group, you might drink but you honestly didn't like alcohol too much, you didn't like the taste. Everything seemed to be good and fine, it was almost midnight so you could gear up in your car and go home. After your dad passed, you had an inheritance, when your grandfather was still alive he left the money to your dad. When your grandfather started seeing your dad drowning himself in alcohol, he changed his will. When your father died, you would get the inheritance, your mother's reaction was priceless. You explained that if she'd sober up and go to rehab things would change but you were moving out, with your stuff and money.

She didn't go to rehab. And you stayed far away from alcohol, you wouldn't waste away your life like your father did. You can't remember a moment after the age of ten where they didn't drink. You threw back your water, surveying the area when you saw him. He stood in the masses of people, his hair grown and face clean and shaven. His eyes met yours and his face contorted before he started making his way over to you. You hadn't spoken to him in months. He had been there for you after your father's death. In many ways.

Then

Everybody wants to know

If we fucked on the bathroom sink

How your hands felt in my hair

If we were high on amphetamines

"Y/n, come out here, Chris is here to see you." Mom said. I was on the edge of my bed, I had just gotten home from the grave site where we would be burying my father. I stood up and made my way to the front door. My mother was sober, she had only just gotten home from work. You wouldn't be able to tell she had just lost her husband. She moved away as I opened the door wider.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, and Chris smiled before pulling out a bouquet of flowers.

"I'm here for you." he replied, staring at me, his eyes soft. I pucker my lips, in thought, before moving so he could come in.

That's how it started, we were friends who would sit at the diner table and drink coffee and talk about anything but my father and his death. Then at the funeral, we were in my aunt's home, much nicer than our house. When he showed up in a suit and tie, his eyes finding mine and the smallest smile lighting his face, as he moved through the people to me. His hand came to my back as his face came down to my ear.

"You wanna talk?" he asked, softly. I looked around at everyone, before turning leaning into him before looking up into his eyes.

"Yeah." I murmured, my hand coming to slip into his and moving to the bathroom. He moved in and closed the door. I watched the door handle as his hand slipped from it and I looked up at him, the tension in the air thick as I stepped closer and locked the door, before moving back and slipping off my black heels and looking down, my hair feathering around my face, his hands came to my shoulders and up to my face, cupping my cheeks and tilting my chin up to look into his eyes, a serious and concerned gaze covering his face.