✧˚[ 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐍 𝐄𝐘𝐄 ]˚✧ ||| A Sebastian Stan short story

✧˚[ 1 - INVISIBLE INK ]˚✧

The rope around his neck couldn't loosen fast enough. Even though he didn't even wear a tie.
His ears still blared. From applause, the bass from the speakers in the hall. And from all the screaming of the many photographers and fans.

Sebastian! Sebastian!

Sebastian! Look! Here!

Sebastian, just a picture!

Thank you, Sebastian!

Sebastian, we love you!

He wasn't ungrateful - not at all. But sometimes all the hustle and bustle still felt unreal even after all this time. Unreal and too much. Did he really know what he got himself into when, as a little boy with a big dream, he played a small part in a commercial for a new soft drink? Hardly. But now, being a grown man with principles, having a healthy level of self-confidence and dealing with the same old fears, he did. He wanted it exactly that way. At least most of it. And he still wanted this dream. Then as now. Except for one tiny difference: now he no longer dreamed it, he lived it - with everything included.

The door slammed shut. Silence. Through it, the muffled sound of his manager's footsteps, who, after the after-show party at the movie premiere, would also fall into bed a few doors down, satisfied but tired. Tomorrow they had the day off. Well, you never really had that much time off as one of the public faces. It was something Sebastian didn't realize for a long time. You were under constant observation, targeted by paparrazzi & Co. And if he didn't post anything on Instagram or anywhere else from time to time, rumors about his illness or even death grew quite quickly. Where did they get that idea from? Back then, people never really thought about whether their neighbor on the third floor was still alive just because they hadn't seen him for a few weeks. Actually, it was sad if nobody cared about their fellow men. Either it was too much or too little.

It was the same for Sebastian with his fans. Oh God, he loved his fans, no doubt about that. They were those who kept him grounded. Firstly, because they reminded him of where he came from, where his dreams began. Secondly, they were the ones to whom he owed his success. It wasn't talent alone what made him famous and gave him enough freedom to focus fully on his heart's projects.

The jet lag kicked in. He unbuttoned the royal blue shirt collar even further and tossed his jacket over the back of the elegant couch, only to drop down on it with a groan seconds later, kicking off the polished leather shoes his trusted friend and stylist picked out three weeks ago to match his suit.

"Oh, boy..."

For a few minutes he just lay there, eyes closed, like a sip of water on a bend. Grandma probably would have told him to sit down straight so he wouldn't be creeping around like a hunchbacked old man at the age of 30.
The corner of his mouth twitched upwards as he pictured one of the rare important women in his life. She died before his 30th birthday. It was now eleven years ago. He felt healthier than ever. A nice yet sometimes brutal side effect of show business, physically as well as mentally, especially with rapid role changes from a slender, eccentric rock star on drugs to a knife-wielding, brainwashed assassin trying to get his stolen life back on track.

With a sigh, Sebastian sat up, propped his forearms on his knees and looked to his left at the same dull fabric his legs were still in. When he sat on the plane back to the US, this elegant, classically tailored suit would already await its next assignment in Michael's wardrobe.

Wait, wasn't there something?

One pull and, like magically, a small, home-made necklace wound itself around his fingers. Sebastian remembered the little girl around ten years old handing it to him with sparkling eyes. He couldn't help but give her a hug. Somewhere between the many blurred faces of the many unknown people, one or two others appeared whom he thought he might have seen before. A convention here, a movie event there. Some fans spared no expense or effort to be close to him. And somehow still today he feels guilty about it. Something he seemed to never really be able to shake off.