"Nonononono..." You start muttering, torn between jumping out of bed, thereby putting distance between you and Sebastian, and staying put until you can quell the lurching in your stomach. Meanwhile your muttering has roused him and he stretches and yawns beside you.
"Morning." He grunts, voice rough with sleep,
"Sebastian... How..." He cracks an eye open to look at you, but you can't speak, the nausea overtakes you and you bolt out of bed, straight into your bathroom.
As you empty your stomach of anything left from the hours since the two of you had dinner, every heave making your head throb harder, you feel Sebastian come into the room behind you. He wets the hand towel beside the sink and pulls your hair back, dabbing your forehead and neck.
"Sorry. Didn't realize you were that far gone last night." He whispers, careful to keep his voice down. The cloth on your neck is surprisingly soothing, and finally your stomach has concluded its revolt. You huddle against the cold tile wall, holding your still-queasy stomach, and Sebastian hands you a small cup with a bit of mouthwash, then kneels in front of you.
"A little better?" He asks, you cover your face and groan,
"How did this happen again?"
"What?"
"This!"
"Yeah, I'm gonna need a little more... Getting drunk? Having a hangover?"
"You and me... In bed... And I don't remember anything from this one either." You moan,
"Wait..." Sebastian takes your hands in his, "Y/N, look at me." He waits for you to finally open your eyes, "Nothing happened last night." You take him in for the first time that morning, finally realizing you're both dressed. You're actually in your pajamas, but Sebastian slept in his slacks and undershirt.
"Nothing happened?"
"No." He smiles, "Aside from us, yet again, having a little too much to drink."
"Wait, why did you stay?" You ask suddenly, Sebastian finally looks away, his eyes settling where he's still holding your hands,
"You asked me to." You don't know what to say, so you simply look at him with surprised wonder. And you can't help but find his sudden timidity adorable,
"So, what's your usual hangover cure? Everyone has one." He asks suddenly, changing the subject, "Bloody Mary? Stale crackers?"
You shoot him a sidelong glance, deliberating.
"Don't judge me." You say, finally. "There's a diner on the corner. Greasiest chili fries on earth. For some reason, they've always done the trick."
"Chili fries," he nods, "coming right up. You need any help right now?"
"You don't have to do that--"
"I know, I know," he cuts you off, laughing, "but I'm going to. So, just hang out for a bit and I'll be back."
You try to offer a small smile, but don't even want to think about moving from your spot, afraid any movement will upset your stomach again.
Fifteen minutes later, you've worked your way to the couch, laying a cool rag across your throbbing forehead after you buzz Sebastian back into the building.
There's a soft knock at the door,
"It's open." You groan. Sebastian peeks in, holding two take out containers,
"Hope you don't mind, when I was ordering yours they sounded good... Thought we could have breakfast together... Er... Lunch at this point." He chuckles,
"Sure... That could be nice."
He closes the door quietly, careful not to make any loud noises,
And sits next to you on the couch, passing you your container of greasy potatoes and chili, and you both dig in. The silence feels awkward to begin with, until Sebastian drops a glob of chili on his suit pants, then you can't stop laughing.
"Yeah, yeah, very funny." he says, feigning insult even though he can't suppress his own laugh, "I guess now would be a good time to tell you that you've had something stuck in your teeth since you started eating.
"I know..." You stutter out a white lie, "I was just saving it for later." You effectively gross him out which makes you laugh even harder until your stomach starts to ache again and you double over with a groan.
"Grease not helping?"
"Well, it kinda did, it just didn't get rid of it all this time. Guess I'm not going anywhere today."
After a while you notice that Sebastian is being unusually quiet, when you look up, he's frowning deeply and his mind is obviously somewhere far off,
"What's wrong?" You ask suddenly, startling him back to the present,
"Nothing, just thinking too hard, I guess." He smiles weakly,
"I call liar."
"No, really... It's just... Probably too early on to ask, is all."
"No, I won't marry you." He chokes on a fry, and you give him a few firm pats on his back to help him get his breath back.
"Yeah, no. Not that." He laughs, but doesn't say anything else. After a while you can't stand it any more,
"Well, now I'm too curious to let it go, so you might as well ask." So after some hesitation, he does,
"I just wanted to ask what made you bolt last week." He's subtly fidgeting, "I know you said it was a long story. I just thought..."
"What?"
"Was I really that bad?" You catch the look he gives you, his eyes shining, hinting at his joke.
You snort,
"I already said I don't remember..." You pick at the few remaining fries in your take out box. Appetite sated for now, though you still feel like you're on the outer edges of your hangover, "As for the long story... It's just that... I've discovered in the past--" you rethink and reword yourself so many times you have to stop.
"You're not the first actor I've dated, Sebastian." He turns toward you on the couch, giving you his full attention.
"Okay..." He prompts when you take a while to continue,
"Though it may not make me sound good, I've dated a lot of different types of guys, and they've all ended up being horribly cliche in their distinct lack of skill in relationships. I've dated businessmen who quickly let their jobs kill any relationship they begin, artists who are too moody for me to stand for long, and then performers. Actors and musicians who are so good at giving their audience what they want that I can't tell what is genuine anymore." You see understanding dawn in his eyes,
"My last boyfriend kind of clinched it for me, though. You'd think that just one time walking in on him in OUR bed with another woman would be enough to get me to hit the road, but no. It took catching him two more times for me to even consider that he was slightly less than sincere with me. After that I decided that I can't trust actors. You guys make a living off of lying, how do I know I can trust anything you say to me?"
He nods his understanding,
"Because it's just a job." He says finally, "Those of us who aren't playboys, act for a while, have fun playing a different person, having a different life, pretending to be the hero or villain for just a little while, then we leave it behind to be able to come home to someone who makes us want to be us." The way he looks at you makes your stomach flutter in a more pleasant way than you were feeling before,
"If you say 'someone like you', I swear I'll dump the rest of my chili fries in your lap." You laugh, trying to lighten the subject just a bit,
"Well, fine, but it's true. You definitely didn't deserve what he did to you." With the two of you facing each other on the couch, arms flung across the back, he begins playing with your fingertips,
"Even putting that experience aside..." You begin,
"Too soon, huh?" He asks, wincing,
"You got out of a relationship three weeks ago... How do you know I'm not just a rebound?" Staring at you in silence for a long while, he seems to be considering something,
"Fair enough. Too soon."
"Would you hate me forever and magically lose my number if I friend-zoned you right now?" You brace yourself for a disappointed puppy-dog face, but are thoroughly surprised when he throws back his head and laughs,
"As long as you're okay with it, I'd actually like to keep your number. I can get behind this 'friend' idea."
While you can still see the disappointment behind his eyes, the air between you shifts just a bit and the awkward charge melts into a comfortable atmosphere.
"So, what do you say to a Sunday morning movie... Friend?" You ask.
"I thought you didn't feel up to going anywhere..." He says, confused.
You point at your extensive movie library,
"I'll even give you first pick." He smiles. A real smile, not like he's trying to make you feel better, and heads over to pick a movie.
"Anything?"
"Anything."
You're a little worried by the stifled laugh that is followed by him covertly slipping a movie into your DVD player, until the menu loads.
"Just Friends?" You laugh, "Really?"
"Seemed appropriate." His voice is tight with suppressed laughter, but you just shake your head as you click play.
