It's Hard To Be The One Who Stays [Kurtbastian]

Amends (and who needs it?) (Jan, 2011)

Kurt is in his room that night, trying to work on a new arrangement, but all he can think of is the fact that no one saw Sebastian all day. David had gone to knock on his door when he didn't make it to practice, but didn't get so much as a "Go the fuck away." Kurt's trying to convince himself it's really not necessary for him to drop by Sebastian's room.

It's absurd that he's thinking about it in the first place. He should be planning when and how to make a visit to Dave Karofsky's hospital room, not sitting here worrying about Sebastian, who for all he knows responded to the news of David's suicide attempt with a shrug and a "So what? What does that have to do with me?"

Fuck, he could still be "entertaining" someone he hooked up with at Scandals or through Grindr or even Craiglist last night, and that's why he didn't come to class.

Kurt doesn't think so. He thinks Sebastian must be reacting badly, but he isn't sure why or how.

The thing is— Kurt doesn't know enough.

Kurt knows Sebastian's sharp remarks and the personality he plays up and the sore spots Kurt with his own myriad self-confidence issues can spot with a glance. But it's only now that he realizes, beyond these things, Kurt doesn't know anything about Sebastian.

What else can he talk about when he's not sniping with someone? What does he act like when he's with someone he fully trusts, someone that is like Kurt's dad is to Kurt? He's got insecurities, but where are they from, how deep do they go?

Kurt likes being the most well-informed person in the room. It ensures that no one can leverage anything over him.

Realizing his own ignorance and powerlessness makes him anxious and uncertain and afraid.

Close to midnight, when he's still struggling to drift off to sleep, his phone rings.

His hand slaps over it and he stares blearily at the display.

It says:

Incoming Call

Meerkat

Kurt drops his phone. Then scrambles to find it again.

Sebastian's occasionally called the other Warblers, but he's never called Kurt. Certainly not at midnight on a day like today.

He presses the accept button quickly and pulls his phone to his ear. His heart is hammering with fear, even though the rational side of his brain tells him Sebastian is likely just drunk-dialing.

"Kurrrrrrrtttt," Sebastian slurs, and yes, he's drunk. This doesn't make Kurt feel any better. Sebastian has a high alcohol tolerance and a very strong sense of dignity.

"What is it, Meerkat?" he says, "Where are you? Is someone with you?"

Without really understanding why, he's off his warm bed and rummaging around for any shirt and pair of jeans he can find, not even bothering to turn on the light. He keeps the phone pressed hard against the side of his face as he changes.

"I did a bad thing," Sebastian says, so soft Kurt can barely catch it. "Didn't I?"

"I..." Kurt's mouth is dry. He wants to say yes, but that's not really fair either—"What happened, it wasn't your fault, not really. Where are you?"

"You thought so. You slapped me." He pauses. "It hurt."

"Sebastian, tell me—"

"I didn't feel bad about it at all. Why didn't I feel bad about it? Can you teach me to feel bad about it before I do it?"