#and yeah this was my favorite album EVER and I just completely shattered my ability to connect with it

[didnt-hear-idsb-live-again]

I am crowdsourcing for help because I feel like this album has been ruined for me by having too much exposure to “what it’s about” before I imprint my own memories on it and find my own meaning in it. I don’t wanna think about how x is about pining for Matty Healy while with Joe because I need to be able to find relatability in it which I cannot do if all I can see when I hear each lyric is a photo of HER situation. This has gone from being the best album I’ve ever heard to something I can’t even listen to because I don’t wanna hear it In That Way within 24 hours, every lyric is stained with like, thinking about Taylor emotionally cheating instead of relating it to me??? and I’m just looking for some deconstruction of that belief, so if anyone can come in my ask box and tell me why the theory that TTPD a 3 arc story about how she was pinning after Matty while with Joe so dumped Joe and then she regretted it makes no sense and can’t be true - without saying “it’s because MY theory is what’s true here’s my theory!1!!1!1” I’d really appreciate it. I really really really need this out of my brain

[lady-divine-writes]

Portrait of the Artist as a Son (Rated NC17)

Summary: After visiting the home where Sebastian's mother will spend the rest of her life, Kurt has some trouble sleeping ... in part because he wakes up to find his boyfriend gone.

Part of the Deliver Me verse

Read on AO3.

Kurt couldn’t sleep.

He had fallen asleep fine, his head resting on Sebastian’s chest, listening to the even ‘thump-thump’ of his boyfriend’s heartbeat. They’d gone to bed naked – a habit ever since he started sleeping in Sebastian’s arms. Sebastian claimed he didn’t sleep well without making love to Kurt first, and Kurt had no intention of complaining. Even on the rare nights when they fought, they still ended up tangled in each other’s arms.

It was the best way in the world to end an argument.

Sebastian’s body was like a furnace - a constant source of heat against Kurt’s skin. And Kurt loved it. He loved his boyfriend’s heat. Kurt imagined it started in Sebastian’s heart and traveled via his blood throughout his whole body.

For some reason, though, the bed felt cold, the Egyptian cotton sheets like ice against his skin. Not to mention an odd, muffled rustling had started to invade Kurt’s dreams.

A rustling that sounded like someone rifling through drawers and paperwork …

… and it was coming from the living room.

He really didn’t feel like opening his eyes to find out what it was. The sound put his body on lock down – paralyzed him with fear. He wanted Sebastian, and to know that everything was okay. But since no one seemed to be offering that information (for a second time during their visit), it was up to Kurt to do the sleuthing, find out what was up.

He pried open his eyes.

He’d been lying flat on his stomach on his side of the bed. The other side, the side he was staring at, was empty. The blankets had been tucked around his body but it didn’t help. Without Sebastian, everything seemed stark, bare.

Kurt scanned the lonely room, lying in the silence, listening for any sound.

After several minutes, he heard one.

Another rustle.

Kurt’s muscles tightened so quickly, his neck ached and his head throbbed.

He didn’t want to call into the darkness for Sebastian, afraid of disturbing the source of the noise in case it wasn’t him – a ridiculous notion since the Smythe house, as far as Kurt could tell, was a fortress locked behind a metal fence. Who in the world beside Sebastian would be there?

Possibly Sebastian’s father, back with a weapon and looking for revenge? If anyone knew the ins and outs of the Smythe estate, including secret entrances and passageways, it would be him, right? Even with the security Richard had hired, he’d know if a loophole existed that would get him inside.

And he’d have reason to come back, reason to hunt down Sebastian specifically.

From the side of his eye, Kurt noticed the French doors that led to the living room open a crack. He sat up slowly, rolling tense muscles in an attempt to convince them to move, careful not to shift the bed too much lest the frame creak.

They’d discovered earlier that night that the old frame could be awfully loud. Kurt blushed remembering the close calls they had when they swore the legs would snap, the memory of what prompted the strain …

… exactly what Sebastian had done with his mouth and where.

Kurt took a moment to slip on Sebastian’s favorite green satin pants and a black t-shirt, adding a thick, white robe to guard against the cold. He looked around him for a weapon, just in case. The only thing he could find close by that fit the bill was Sebastian’s empty brandy bottle.

Kurt picked it up.

Even empty, it was heavy.

It could still knock out a filthy, homophobic motherfucker like Cornelius Smythe.

But what if he had a gun? Or what if it wasn’t him? What if he’d hired some large, muscular goon to do his dirty work for him?

Kurt’s hands gripping the bottle for dear life began to sweat, so much so that he was afraid he’d lose hold of it, drop it on his foot.

Give himself away.

He swallowed hard, squared his shoulders, clenched his jaw.

He’d already faced down one asshole with a gun. He’d do it again.

Especially to save Sebastian.

Kurt tip-toed over to the double doors, one foot in front of the other.

Louder rustling stopped him in his tracks.

He gulped hard and waited … for another rustle, for an explanation, but for Sebastian most of all.

He got neither, so he decided to continue forward.

Step after step he crept up to the doors. He put a flat palm to the wood, pushed one open a crack, and peeked out.

A man sat on the sofa, only his silhouette visible, hunched over double as if in pain. Kurt stared at him a long while until he lifted his head and showed his face.

Relieved, Kurt put the bottle down.

With the aid of the full moon streaming blue light through the windows, he could see the silhouette belonged to Sebastian. He had pulled the coffee table up to him, sandwiching his knees against the cushions. He leaned forward again, scrutinizing a spread of photographs. Off to the side, lying open, sat an album, pages so full they challenged the binding.

Both the photos and the album filled Kurt with melancholy. But when he looked at Sebastian, chin in his hands, eyes sad and staring, Kurt’s heart sank. Tracks from dried tears lined Sebastian’s cheeks, his eyes red-rimmed, lips swollen from where he bit back sobs.

Kurt knew what was going through Sebastian’s mind while he looked at those photographs.

They’d gotten the news that his mother’s mental faculties were deteriorating quickly – quicker than anyone had anticipated considering her exceptional physical health. Her doctors didn’t know how long it would be until she forgot her children entirely.

Sebastian absorbing that information, the blank expression on his face as he did his best to listen, then leaving abruptly, going outside for air, had been heartbreaking.

But Sebastian sitting in the dark, alone, crying, shattered Kurt’s heart.

He contemplated going back to bed, giving Sebastian his privacy, but something pulled Kurt into the room, to the sofa, to sit by Sebastian’s side. Without turning his head or saying a word, Sebastian took Kurt’s hand and placed it on his knee, tracing over his knuckles with his fingertips.

“I’m sorry if I woke you,” he said, voice breaking.

“You didn’t.” Kurt smiled, but Sebastian didn’t see, his eyes glued to the pictures on the table. Kurt turned his attention to the pictures, too - photos Sebastian had taken of Kurt’s house, of Kurt, of the two of them together. There were pictures from Sebastian’s room as well of Sebastian and Richard, Richard and his family, Sebastian with his mom. Kurt peeked past Sebastian’s body to the book open at his side. It wasn’t an album, but a scrapbook, one Sebastian was in the process of making. Sebastian had been mounting photos onto black pages and writing captions underneath in gold.

Sentiments of love, some paragraphs long.

Kurt couldn’t help the sound that escaped his throat, but that tiny noise triggered something in Sebastian’s brain, something that had been trapped all night as he flipped through photo after photo of the woman he loved … the woman he was losing. He broke down, tears streaming down his cheeks before he could stop them, shoulders crumbling, body bowing beyond his ability to control. Kurt wrapped his arms around him, cuddling him close, desperate to find a way to soothe him.

Kurt knew what it was like to lose a mother. He thought that might help him here, but he felt lost. Navigating his own grief had been difficult.

Navigating someone else’s was impossible.

He didn’t tell Sebastian it would be all right, because Kurt knew it wouldn’t. Not completely.

He didn’t try to quiet Sebastian’s tears. Kurt knew he needed to let them out.

He opened the edges of his robe and surrounded Sebastian with his warmth, let Sebastian crush his body against him, shaking with sobs, until he felt he would break apart. There they sat, wrapped around one another, until the stress of the day bled away – from Sebastian into Kurt, and from Kurt into the universe.

The sky had begun to lighten when Sebastian finally calmed down. Kurt took his face in his hands and kissed him gently, let Sebastian lay him back on the sofa and climb over him, kissing him back.

“How much more do you have to finish?” Kurt whispered when Sebastian’s lips left his mouth and started traveling down his neck.

“A---a few,” Sebastian admitted. “But I’m having a problem finding a caption for one.”

“Show me?” Kurt requested.

Sebastian righted them both and handed Kurt the book, open so he could see all the pictures, all the stories, all the ‘I love yous’ written between the lines. The picture without a caption was of Sebastian. It was the picture Kurt had taken when he gave Sebastian the camera. The photo was mounted in the center of the page with nothing written underneath.

“Ah.” Kurt sighed at the handsome face smiling back at him. “Portrait of the artist.”

“Yeah,” Sebastian said. “That’s about it, though.”

“What do you mean?” Kurt asked, careful fingers hovering above, tracing around the mouth and eyes. All this time together and one look, just this slight smile, could take Kurt’s breath away.

“What else am I?” Sebastian huffed. “Everything I am, everything I’ve done, I accomplished because of money. I don’t really have anything that’s my own. I’m the product of privilege. That’s all. Maybe my dad was right. Maybe I am worthless.”

Kurt glared at Sebastian, eyes wide. “You know, if I didn’t love you so much, I would slap you. In fact, I just might.”

Sebastian’s eyes lit up, their playful spark returning. Kurt rolled his.

“Here.” Kurt reached past Sebastian for the gold Sharpie he’d been writing with. “I don’t ever want to hear you tell me that you’re worthless,” Kurt muttered as he wrote, “because both you and I know that isn’t true. I won’t hear it …” Sebastian tried to peek, but Kurt wouldn’t let him. Not long after, Kurt handed the book back. “You’re worth everything to me.”

Sebastian looked at the words written neatly beneath the photo, read them to himself.

Sebastian Smythe

Photographer

Adventurer

Harvard student

Defender of the innocent

Willing to risk his life for those he loves

Loyal partner

Beloved son

Sebastian looked at Kurt with wet eyes and smiled.

Kurt winked. “In no particular order.”

[luckyinmoonlight-blog]

CHAPTER TWO

“So… I don’t get it.” Annie said as she stretched out her long legs onto the reclined pool chair.

We both let the warm Rhode Island, early September sun tan us. It was Labor Day weekend, and it was nice to be with my family and Annie all together again.

“What do you mean? I already explained it all.”

“Here is what I’ve gathered. You met Harry fucking Styles. He seems about damn near perfect. But you are scared of dating him? So you’re going to drop him like a hot potato.”

“So you do understand.”

“That is actually the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard in my twenty-two years of life. Congratulations.”

“You don’t get it.” I sighed.

“Nope.” She replied popping the “P” for dramatic effect. “I really don’t”.

“Can you imagine what they would say about me?”

Annie took off her black Ray Bans sunglasses and looked at me, her warm brown eyes sincere. “If you’re going to let the media affect you so deeply, you’ve picked the wrong profession, Molls.”

“I know. It’s just I’m a brand new artist. No one knows me, or what I’m about yet. I wanted to be known for my music, and my songwriting ability.”

“And your killer vocal range,” Annie added in.

“That too, thanks. I don’t want to be known as Harry Styles’ one-time fling that got her famous. You know?”

“I wouldn’t mind being known as Harry Styles one-time thing honestly-”

“Annie! I’m being serious!” I whined before I picked up my cup of lemonade and took a swig.

“I just don’t need any negative attention yet, or that is what Jessie keeps telling me.”

“Jessie,” Annie said with an eye roll.

“Stop, she has my best interest at heart.”

“Sure she does.”

“Why do you hate her so much?”

“She’s bossy. She thinks she walks on water. She thinks that just because she’s from Los Angeles and we are from Green Hills, that she is better than all of us. Guess what she isn’t. She’s a stuck up little-” Annie’s voice trailed off as we heard my brother and his fraternity brother Justin running towards the pool before they both front flipped in causing a massive splash to overcome myself and Annie.

“Spencer! Justin!” I screamed as the boys came up laughing.

“God, they are annoying. I’m so glad I’m an only child.”

“You’re like my sis, Annie.” Spencer called from in the pool as he did a backstroke.

“You are not like my sis, Annie. So if you ever want to come visit me at USC, just know my room is available.” Justin responded with a wink. Causing a giggle to arise from Spencer and me.

“Gross. I’m grabbing a beer, are you coming, Mollie?”

“Absolutely.” And just like that we started our day drinking festivities at my parents rented beach house. Three cheers for family vacations!

-

“Have you named your album yet?” My mother asked as we all sat around the table on the back deck overlooking the ocean eating our salad and steak.

“Not yet, we’re playing around with a few different options. Jessie thinks-”

“Ugh. Not her again!” Annie said with her signature eye roll. Annie had been my best friend since we were thirteen. She had been around my family so much that she was practically one of us.

“You’re not a fan of Jessie, Annie?” My mom asked intrigued. My mother loved good gossip.

“I think she’s pretentious is all.”

“You know who isn’t pretentious? Me.” Justin added before picking his fork and stabbing a big piece of filet mignon before popping it into his mouth.

Justin was new. He was my brother’s fraternity brother at the University of South Carolina. This was mine, Annie’s, and my family’s first time meeting him.

“You eat like a caveman,” Annie replied looking disgusted.

“Are all ECU girls snobs?” Justin not so subtly whispered to Spencer. Spencer shrugged but Justin shrugged as well, “It’s kind of hot.”

“I wish every night could be like this. Out here on the back deck sitting by the ocean. Having your father do the grilling, so I don’t have to cook.” My mother sighed before taking a drink of her sparkling water. The beach was most definitely her happy place.

“I miss little ole Nashville.” Was not so surprisingly my father's reply.

“We know. Meanwhile, I’ve been ready to move to Rhode Island, since we first started vacationing here when the kids were still so little. Now we have a music star, and well…. Spencer.”

“Gee, thanks, Mom.”

“Oh, you’ll do great things. Once you survive your college days!”

“Enjoy it, Spencer, before you marry some crazy girl.”

My family was your typical normal family, but I loved our little moments like this.

-

“I bet we can finish this entire bottle of Moscato tonight.” Annie smiled before pouring more barefoot Moscato into my empty wine glass.

Everyone had gone to bed by now, Spencer and Justin got so drunk after dinner they both went upstairs before they passed out. As for my parents, well old people have their bed times. That left Annie and me to drink and gossip to our heart's content.

“Not sure if we should be proud of that or-”

“No one is here to judge us, so let’s live it up for the end of summer. Drink up!”

I took a long swig of the sweet wine before placing it back on the coaster that sat on top of the small table in front of the couch. Being here in Rhode Island at the beach house my family always rented gave me a sense of serenity. I was able to calm down and relax from all of my stresses about songwriting, and promoting myself.

But there wasn’t a day that I didn’t think of Harry. He hadn’t contacted me all weekend. I knew that I shouldn’t talk to him, he wouldn’t want to waste his time on a nobody like myself, right? But that night in New York City… it was so magical. I kept reminding myself that we just both happened to be in the same place at the same time. It’s not like there was anyone else around that was readily available for him to hang out with.

This boy already had the power to shatter my heart. I knew that without a doubt. It was smart to be hesitant about developing feelings for Harry Styles. I was doing the right thing by not allowing him to distract me from what is really important in my life right now. He was just lonely and I was there.

Now I am lonely and I wish he was here.

I sighed before taking another giant swig of wine before I glanced up at the television in complete and utter shock.

“Hey turn the volume up, Annie.”

Annie grabbed the remote and turned up the volume, her mouth falling open in shock. “No fucking way.”

On E! some nobody reporter was talking causally not bothered by what was coming out of his mouth, and he was talking about me.

There was my picture plastered on the television screen. On the same screen, there was also Harry’s picture plastered right next to mine.

“It appears our favorite Harry Styles’ has caught his rebound. We all know that Styles’ and Kendall Jenner were seen together in Los Angeles about a month ago. Now it appears Kendall is happily in love with a photographer, his name we do not know yet. Looks like Harry has been cozying up to a newbie singer, Mollie Roark, all in hopes of making Kendall jealous. Stay on E! to get exclusive updates on this story!”

“You are so not anyone’s rebound.”

I sat on the couch, face pale and white. Not even sure if I was fully breathing. This is what I wanted to avoid. Now, my name is plastered all over E! news as Harry Styles’ fucking rebound.

“Say it. You are not his rebound.”

“I need more wine.”

“No problem. Be right back.” Annie shot up from her spot on the couch and ran into the kitchen as if the couch had been on fire. I didn’t need more wine. I already had a slight buzz, but I needed anything to distract me from the hurtful words of just being my dream guy’s rebound.

Then a dark and twisted thought crossed my mind. Don’t check twitter. Don’t fucking do it.

And when a thought like that enters your mind, you absolutely do it. And like an ididot, I searched myself on the worst website ever created, Twitter.

I’m not saying she’s a gold digger but…. #mollieroark

Just what the world needs another famous singing whore #mollieroark

Let me be caught with Harry to get famous. Who am I? #mollieroark

My songs suck so I’m going to get famous from Harry Styles #mollieroark

Annie walked back over to the couch with two bottles of wine in her hands, “Look, Molls, I got the good stuff!” just as tears were beginning to stream down my face.

“What? No Mollie, don’t cry-” setting the bottles down on the table Annie sat beside me and hugged my gently as I began sobbing loud ugly sobs. My nose was running and I am sure I looked like a complete disaster.

“Everyone is going to think I’m a sellout.” I managed to sniffle out as I calmed down a little.

“Well, are you?”

“What? No, I’m not-”

“Okay, I know that. You know that. Shit, Harry knows that.”

I guess she was right, I just really didn’t want to have my first scandal before my album was even officially out yet.

“Look, let’s not worry about this right now. We are on vacation, just like old times. Rumors will happen, but we know the truth. We aren’t going to let haters get us down are we?”

“No- I just don’t understand how they knew I was hanging out with him.”

“I don’t either. We can get to the bottom of it later, but tonight we are going to just have Annie and Mollie time, just like we used to okay?”

“Okay.” I sniffled again before she popped the cork off the next bottle of wine and filled my glass again.

-

2:00 AM

“I love this song!” Annie yelled as Music Feels Better by Selena Gomez thumped through the speakers on the back deck. We were definitely drunk by this point of the night.

I felt free, loose, and like I could really dance, which I absolutely couldn't. We swayed our hips to the ocean breeze and spun each other around without a care in the world.

“I think I should get us some water now.” Annie laughed as she tried to twirl but ungracefully fell onto the deck with a thud.

“Oh my God! Are you alright?” I stumbled over to her not seeing straight.

“Uh yeah, you look worse off than me.”

“True.” I flopped onto the deck chair and closed my eyes to stop the spinning.

“Yep. We need water, I’ll be right back.” Annie loudly stopped her feet back inside and slammed the door so hard I was shocked my parents didn’t wake up and come down and yell at us for all of the commotion.

My iPhone vibrated against the table. In my drunken state, it took me a minute to figure out what was happening. I peered down through my foggy vision, not being able to read my caller ID. I picked up the phone and answered it anyway.

“Hello?”

“Hey Mollie, it’s me.”

“Me? Who is me?” It was hard to put a name to the voice in my intoxicated state.

“It’s Harry.” He laughed his beautiful laugh, and wait, who?!

“Um, hi.”

“Sorry, if it’s late wherever you are. I don’t actually know where you are. Um, I’m in LA, right now and-”

“It’s late.”

“Oh sorry, were you, um sleeping?”

“No.”

“Oh, can I ask what are you doing?”

“Drinking.”

“I can call back.”

“What did you need?”

“Shit!” Annie mumbled as she slammed the back door open again.

I focused my attention on Harry. The perfect boy who probably ruined my chance at a reputable singing career.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“What? I’m sorry, it’s just you are kind of slurring your words.”

“Who are you talking to?” Annie said in more of a scream than a normal speaking voice.

“Mollie, what’s going on? I’m worried about you.”

“You’re worried about me? Why, because everyone is calling me one of your little whores?”

“I didn’t mean for that to happen. You know your not.”

“I’m your next little rebound huh?”

Annie was nodding her head while simultaneously spilling her water bottle all down her shirt.

“Mollie, no. I feel bad.”

“Sure ya do, Styles. Do you know how awful this makes me look?”

“I never meant for this to happen to you.”

“Well, it did. Now my career is shit, thanks to you.”

“I’m sorry Mollie! Don’t blame me, please. Look, I'm flying to London tomorrow, come see me-”

“Fuck off, Harry Styles.” And then I hung up.

And instantly after I hung up, I thought about going to London... because I've never been there before, and it was beginning to spark my interest.