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buckyarchives · 2 years ago

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we’re not really strangers | Sebastian Stan [2.]

summery: a broken and washed up writer keeps showing up in Sebastian life as he struggles with his own loneliness. two people in two different world, but the tug is so intense it begins to eat Sebastian raw. he has to learn to love full heartedly and you need to learn to trust again after you got cheated out of your entire life.

word count: 7.5k

warning: therapy sessions, hints of depression and drug abuse, mentions of suicide. past abusive relationships.

authors note: this is so long i’m sorry. and yes, readers backstory is literally just from big eyes shut up

read on AO3 | masterlist

“So.” the tap of a clicking pen filled the air. “Have you been writing recently?”

“I'm not a writer.”

Grace – your therapist – sighs, absolutely done with your shit. She was right to be. “You've written some of the film industry's greatest movies. Just because the world doesn't know that doesn't mean it's not true.”

You more or less glared at her, not a peep leaving you. It was going to drive Grace crazy, you didn't care. Maybe you did. A frown danced on your face, the one you wore usually. Just more annoyed.

“You don't have to be in denial forever.”

You loathed it when she said that. She noticed that you began to fidget with your hands before you realized yourself. She wrote it down, the sound of the pen dancing over her pad taunted you. You've never been an angry person, but it made you want to scream at her. Be the madwoman people expected of you.

“Yes, I have been writing.”

Grace's face lightened. “Good, anything you want to share.”

Your therapist made you talk about your script and stories in the beginning, a way to open up, she said. It was usually the only thing you'd be comfortable enough to speak about. She’d look way into the stories though, so you stopped. Especially after a suicidal main character got you put on 24-hour watch.

“Just practice.” you sighed, avoiding eye contact. “That one script I wrote a year ago is being filmed right now.”

“Which one?”

Here we go.

“The one about the cannibal luring in women through dating.”

Grace hums, nodding her head. Remembering the story you spoke about to her a while ago, she had read the first draft. “Is being deceived and tricked something you can relate to? Is cannibalism a metaphor for being eaten away by your feelings when you lived in LA?”

Told you.

You want to groan, scream and cry at her. Throwing your head back in annoyance and carding a hand through your hair with a heavy sigh.

“It's not that deep, Grace.” you say, “it's just about the horrors of modern dating as a woman.”

Sometimes you wanted to cry when she made these arbitrary assumptions just to tear you down into being a deeper person than you actually wore. It made you feel like a character of your trauma. Which your writing was the whole point, to make that not true.

Because you are not a character in your story. You never were.

“But do you feel that way? the way Miles treated you–”

“can we not—“ you let out a shaky breath, “I thought we agreed on Voldemort.”

That stupid fucking name. You hated when she called him by his name, it felt borderline criminal and it left a metallic taste in your mouth. Flinching at every stranger you met with a similar name.

Grace sighed for probably the millionth time. You didn't care that she sounded disappointed. “You cannot keep ignoring your past and live in denial and delusions. You have to learn to step out of that comfort zone and face it head-on.”

Denial, denial, denial. That word sure came up a lot.

“You are a writer.” she looked you dead in the eye. “Yet you claim not to be, despite that fact you continue to write scripts and let movies be made and go uncredited even after escaping miles. Living paycheck to paycheck from that small cafe.”

You feel small.

“You haven't even touched any of the money miles–”

“Okay, I get it, I get it.”

You wished she would stop talking sometimes. And sometimes you wished you didn't have to go to these stupid therapy sessions every week just so you could leave the state. Not be locked in a hospital and dancing around like a crazy person.

“I need to stop living in denial, I need to get out of my comfort zone. I get it, but stop lashing out at me.” you repeat her words. And you know she's not lashing out, she's doing her job and you shouldn't hate her for it. But you do.

Grace looks down at her notepad again and you swear to any gods above if she starts writing down some stupid observation you were going to–

Thump.

Your eyes watch as the throws the pad to the side and lean in closer to you, studying you. Okay, this is even worse.

“Where is this movie being filmed?”

Your eyebrow quirked up. “Canada, Toronto.”

“You.” she points her perfectly painted finger toward you. “Are going to take a vacation, go to set, hang out, help out. Maybe – and I highly recommend it – give some advice. And I know your director friends would be more than welcome to that idea.”

“I can’t take off work.” you sigh, frustrated. “And I don't have the money to get a ticket and stay that long.”

“Yes, you do.” she quips back.

Sometimes you also forget she has access to see your funds and other things. Another thing you could technically blame Voldemort from. If you're speaking about the domino effect, at least.

Hesitantly, and maybe just so you could leave, “i'll think about it. Okay?”

And you did, maybe you forced yourself to think about it in the begining. But somewhere along swallowing yourself on your couch, mindlessly serving coffee and sandwiches. Staring blankly at your books and scripts. You kept thinking about it, until you couldn’t stop. Then it bothered you.

Sometimes you go onto Hulu, prime, or wherever your movies ended up. It doesn’t matter, you don't have control over them, never have. And you'd look at the credits page for hours, quite literally losing yourself in time. You wondered if you'd ever be strong enough to try and change it, by the time you snap out of it, you come to the conclusion that you aren't. And even if you were, would you win? Highly doubtful.

Swallowing down your medication as you feel the upcoming panic. You don't have time to deal with this. You glance down at the orange bottle again. No– stop that. Idiot.

Glancing back to the semi-empty calendar nailed to the wall. Your fingers dance along the dates and you sigh. Tuesday is therapy, you close the shop on those days. Since you usually come back home in a daze and are completely unable to function normally. You hated that your trauma and illnesses had that much power over you. Made you feel weak.

It was February 14th. Your fingertip fell on the 3rd and found itself on the next page. Around the third week of March. That's how long they'd be filming. You didn't ask Mimi. She invited you down, you hate when your therapist is right. She said they'd have a party. They always have parties while filming.

You tried to convince yourself of an excuse to stay. The regulars would be mad when they find out the shops are closed for over a week. You'd miss your apartment, which was a ffat-out lie. You've been trying to convince yourself you'd like this place since you moved in. no way that is changing now. You have to do therapy on zoom, then Grace said you wouldn't need to speak to her on vacation. That made you want to go.

“Fuck!” you yelled, not sure why. But you did and slammed a hand on the counter out of pure frustration and defeat. You'd never have control over your thoughts anyways.

You went into your room to pack, cursing yourself the entire time. You were only destroying yourself by going. Scared someone would recognize you. Another lie, Mimi doesn't work with anyone he worked with. Fact.

Cursed yourself when you bought a ticket, made a sign that said closed until further notice, and texted Mimi your arrival time. Your hands shook when you went through TSA and tried to put your suitcase in storage. A nice husband of three helped you and you gave him a nervous smile. You took a Xanax and mellowed out until you landed.

You began to hate yourself when you checked into the hotel Mimi said to go to. Hated yourself as you got dressed and called a cab. Started to loathe yourself and contemplate going home on the ride back and your legs shook when you walked onto set.

And then something really weird happened. You saw Sebastian and you suddenly didn't and that made you hate yourself even more but in an entirely different way. Mimi was excited you came and Lauryn was shocked. You predicted their reactions and got them correct.

You met Daisy and didn't tell her who you were, she made a good noa. You didn't tell her that either, even though you felt like you should have. Sebastian looked excited, confused, and shocked you were here. All of those and also a little happy. You hoped he didn't know.

You were glad they didn’t get Chris Pine.

You lurked the entire day, not wanting to intrude on the creative proess. You knew how frustrating that could be. Mimi was a great director and you were happily watching her.

Sebastian. Oh, Sebastian. You spent an alarming amount of time staring at him instead of reading the book you bought. You thought about how he made you feel when you fell asleep on him, how you felt at ease sleeping in your apartment for the first time (and how you had a panic attack about it in the bathroom before he woke up), how you smiled more than you wished when he convinced you to dance to Lana and Faye Webster. And then you thought about avoiding him the same way you did when he came in the shop that second time.

Because he was a normal man that liked old films, the color pink and space. But to almost everyone else – he was Sebastian Stan.

And that's why you have to stay at arm's length.

But then he startled you with two cups of coffee in his hands, giving you one, and tucked in his armpit was the script. He sat next to you and asked about delivery and attitude, asked for advice and your thought process when you wrote this.

You mentioned it, but Lauryn must have said something.

“He’s lighthearted about it, he is sinister but if you take meaning away he's just goofy.” you explain, and he looked at you so intently and listened to you well, you thought about kissing him, but you knew it was just because he was giving you attention. “These are some scenes you don't want to take him so seriously.”

A part of you wanted to yell at him. Tell him you're not a writer, you didn't write this, why are you asking me? Go ask Lauryn. But that's just what you were used to. You've already crossed a weird unspoken line that both of you acted like it was nothing, because it was. You told yourself.

But you let it be and continued to answer his questions.

You didn’t know Sebastian kept lingering just to make you smile, and that he stayed even after he accomplished his goal.

After fleeing to your hotel room, you took a cold shower and cried. You weren't sure why.

You watched Once Upon a Time, “Hat Tricks.” you smiled watching that episode. You weren’t sure why, you didn't like it.

You started to wonder what fuck was wrong with you when you turned on the Covent and went to bed with your hand in your pants.

ding!

please don’t be Mimi asking to come back to set. please don’t be Mimi asking to come back to set. please don’t be Mimi asking to come back to set.

from Mimi Cave: the cast and crew are having drinks at 8, it’d be great if you came by.

For the past couple of days, you made brief appearances on set, and spent most of the time lingering around Toronto like a ghost. you went to see Tom and Jerry in theaters which was so far the highlight of the week. maybe besides talking to Sebastian but you weren’t ready to admit that to yourself yet.

you needed to socialize with people besides cafe workers. Speaking with people in the film industry was scary. Maybe this was for the better. You can imagine Grace speaking in your ear.

chewing on your cheek, you blink at the message and then another one pops up.

from Lauryn: i know mimi just texted you, but you don’t have to go if you're not comfortable.

from Lauryn: try to come later though. less people then, or tomorrow morning we can get brunch.

you sighed heavily. two sides of the same coin. One danced around you while the other was overbearing. It was a good balance but now it was just annoying. It was probably because Mimi came post-miles and Lauryn was there even before him. they both cared though.

to mimi: i’ll try to stop by! send me the address. thanks for the invite.

to lauryn: it’s fine, i need to get out. i’ll be there

setting your phone down before glancing at the time. It was 7 pm now. you had no rush to get there at 8, you didn’t want to get there then. If anything, you’d do what Lauryn suggested.

you stared at yourself in the mirror for a good 10 minutes before deciding to get ready. pulling yourself together and putting on a dress of sorts. it was red - staying on theme with the movies. you paced the hotel for a little, opened Instagram. your therapist told you to stop doing that. your fingers danced across the search bar in a trance, not even realizing he was on your mind.

[imsebastianstan]

clicking the follow button. maybe this was a bad idea—

imsebastianstan requested to follow you.

that was… quick. he should definitely be wrapping up filming and not on his phone, or social media.

Nonetheless, you clicked accept.

you had no post, no highlights. just a name and profile photo. it was from a party a long time ago, some

people are cropped out. but you already got a new message.

imsebastianstan: are you coming tonight?

fuck. now you can't back out. you typed quickly, told him you were. he offered to pick you up, what a gentleman. you declined. told him you already called an uber and Sebastian said to be safe. it made your chest weirdly warm.

the ride to the house was a more mellow version of the journey to Toronto and set for the first time. same feelings just less physical panicking. which was — better.

it was 9 when you got there. too early for your taste but you were already standing in front of the huge house, tall glass windows with warm lights and groups of people. too many people. and Mimi must have already seen you because she ran outside with Daisy close behind, cheeks already warm from the crisp cold.

“what are you waiting for? it’s cold, get inside!” she waved you over and you forced out a thin-lipped smile and entered the door, shrugging your coat off and putting it aside.

and you went through the motions of the party for the most part. Mimi introduced you, Lauryn looked surprised that you came so early. you gave her a reassuring nod and she went back to speaking with whoever. wondering if she went around telling them about your part in the script like you did Sebastian. you looked for Sebastian, he was flirting with some girl — you looked away pretty quickly and found a love chair to nurse a drink and people-watch.

and then time blurred, voices muffled and rang. the clicking of glasses and laughter played in the background like a television. you wondered why you even came.

“y/n?”

everything came back and Sebastian was standing in front of you. a somewhat worried face, you chose not to think about that too much.

“hey,” you replied plainly.

“Hey back.” Sebastian smiled and you caught your eyes lingering on his lips. He sat down next to you, thighs touching. like they did when he spent the night, should you mention that?

“Are you okay?” he asks and it genuinely takes you offguard. You begin to stare at him blankly, almost confused. You don't remember the last someone asked you that, and then you realize you don't even know the answer. It shocks you for a moment.

And there's something so raw about Sebastian that makes it so hard to cover it all up. Be fake. Lie. be happy, pretend. It scares you and you want him far away, but the feeling and warmth of his thigh lining against your envelopes you and makes you feel whole and secure.

“I’m here.” which isn't a lie, but it’s all you can think to say. “which is good enough.”

Sebastian glanced back to the small crowd. He smiles, but it feels forced. You know the look too well. “that you are.” is all he says for a moment, you just nod and tap a nail on your glass. “But, do you want to be?”

No, yes, I'm not sure, I should be, do you?

“I think so.” you settle on.

“You don't sound so sure.”

“Because I'm not.” you sigh.

Sebastian takes one more glance around, checking each and every person and to his surprise and delight – no one is looking at him. He smiles, it's genuine now and you can't begin to understand what he's thinking. It angers you.

A hand grasps around your drink, sets it down and finds its way back to your wrist. “Let's go somewhere else,” Sebastian says with a tease in your voice and he's already getting up, you follow him with no hesitation.

“Where?” you ask abruptly, but Sebastian is already pulling you into the front room. Slipping his shoes on.

“Which ones yours?” Sebastian completely ignores your question. Sights set on getting the hell out and looking through the coats. “This looks like something you'd wear.”

“What? No! I would never wear that.” you sound offended, defensive. and smacking his hand away from the ugly purple coat and go to find yours.

Sebastian just laughs and it catches you off guard because he sounds so perfect. and he’s looking at you, and you're still and scared. you grab the black trench coat and let him drag you out and away from the party.

because between unspoken glances of growing trust and laughter as he fumbles with the keys to the rental car. you think to follow him anywhere. and maybe it was simply to get away from that party and the intense stares toward the random, weird girl in the corner who looks one inconvenience away from shooting herself. or maybe it simply was just — him.

you decided not to think about it too much.

“Do you like musicals?” Sebastian asks unprompted. He looks giddy and has a haze in his eyes. you wondered briefly if he should be driving.

“I like some.”

The question of where he’s taking you is still heavy in your head but the question doesn't seem to leave your lips.

Sebastian tucks lips beneath his teeth to hold back a wild, mischievous grin threatening to grow. He turns up the radio aux and the all-too-familiar sound of Andrew Garfield breaks out. you laugh loudly and Sebastian should probably be watching the road right now, but he’s not.

“I like this movie,” you say, referring to tick-tick boom. before you can begin your unasked criticism of the movie. Sebastian breaks out in an aggressive song and it startles you.

“don’t panic! don’t jump ship! I can't fight it!” Sebastian is screaming at the top of his lungs, literally. He turns to you in the passenger and points at you with his nose scrunched. He looks quite cute. “ —like taxes!”

“oh my god.” you gawk. Sebastian doesn't stop his one-man performance and all you can do it stare in amusement and chuckle quietly to yourself.

he doesn’t stop— no, no, now he’s encouraging you. but you're shaking your head violently but the growing smile says something different and Sebastian knows it. “come on! please!”

you shake your head no again

Sebastian is making an exaggerated frown face and he looks ridiculous.

“If I sing, will you tell me where we are going!”

The car slows and he’s driving on a straight road with almost no other cars in sight. Sebastian leans into your space, you don’t lean away. looked you dead in the eye and nothing matters.

“If you sing, I will make the next three to four hours the best you’ve ever had,” Sebastian says sincerely and calmly. He's too serious to be joking now. you bite back a smile and his eyes go back to the round.

your hand goes to turn up the volume and… here goes nothing.

“Friends are getting fatter! the hair on your head is getting thinner! feel like a cleanup batter, on a team that ain’t a winner.” you sing-shout and Sebastian looks more than pleased.

“don’t freak out! don’t strike out! can't fight it, like city hall!” he sings the next verse.

and then you do, and then he does. and then Sebastian put on grease, you suggest heathers and you duo seventeen. Sebastian is still driving with a grin on his face and you feel lighter.

your face hurts when the car finally stops, you want to think it’s from singing. but Sebastian knows it’s because you were smiling the entire ride.

“are you going to tell me why we’re at a grocery store?” you ask, blinking at the 24-hour large convenience store.

“I didn’t want to say anything to Mimi, but her car-cuter boards were not doing it for me.'' Sebastian gets out of the door and slams it shut, it makes you flinch slightly. you hoped he doesn't notice, especially as you linger in the passenger seat. He does, he looks back through the windshield and his giddy smile fades.

Sebastian mouths ‘are you coming?’ and you wonder if you should pretend you couldn’t read lips but it would make no difference. exhale, you open up the door and find your place next to him as you walk through the sliding doors.

the bright fluorescent lights hurt your eyes when you walk in, especially the one above the bathroom that is flickering.

“what’s the weirdest food combo you enjoy?” Sebastian asks. his eyes glance around the store eagerly. you know the look, he looks satisfied when he realizes it’s almost empty, aside from the old lady in the fruits second. the teenage worker. and some woman with 5 pregnancy tests in her hands and one pack of mints.

truly the almost midnight shopping experience.

“weirdest? that I enjoy…” you hum, “cottage cheese and Fritos.”

“that so weak!” he teases and it almost tugs out a smile, matching the one on his that reached his eyes and made the blue look brighter. you turn away trying not to stare or drown in them.

“okay, uhhh… sanyang noodle sauce and watermelon.”

Sebastian hums for a moment, thinking. “that might sound good.” he nods, “what about strawberries and mayo?”

your eyebrows furrow, “that sounds like a pregnancy craving? Are you pregnant, Sebastian?”

he laughs and reaches his eyes once again and a weird sense of pride swells in your chest. Sebastian stops in front of the produce and grabs a small thing of strawberries.

“no, but I’m going to make you try it.” he says.

you let out a breathy laugh, a poor excuse for one anyways. Sebastian's eyes linger on your face, waiting for you to smile. you don’t.

“Is this what we are doing? getting weird food combos?”

“if you want to, get whatever — I’ll pay.”

“That's good enough for me.” and say and grab the cubed watermelon in front of you.

and then you separate for a brief period. Each strolling the aisle of the small store, the bright lights still bothered you. for a moment, you could hear Sebastian humming while he stood on the other side of the shelves. you got caught up in it and ended up staring at a bag of hot onion rings.

so much you didn’t realize Sebastian was now next to you.

“you gonna get those? or just stare at them?” he asked, surprising you. you blinked rapidly as you fell back to reality.

as awkward as ever, you faked a laugh and grabbed them. “I’m getting them,” you were glad you actually like these. “just thinking.”

Sebastian hummed. He knew the look of spacing off until you dissociated well. He chose not to tease you for it.

turning towards the man, Sebastian held an entire chocolate cheesecake and cotton candy grapes. In truth, Sebastian didn’t like cotton candy grapes. mostly grabbing them for shits and giggles, but the smile that grew on your face made him even happier for grabbing them.

you quickly bit back the smile, “those are my favorites.”

Sebastian could have guessed.

“So you're saying if a dashingly handsome man offered you cotton candy grapes, you’d end up like noa?” Sebastian teased.

“maybe, not sure if i’d ever date a doctor though.”

“interesting.”

you walked side by side, your steps were the only noise between you two as you headed for the register. self checkout. you offered to pay, because you’re nice. Sebastian refused and said it was payback for the free coffee.

maybe you shouldn’t be looking at him like you are now. eye focused as he casually wore a small smile, the snacks beeped as he scanned them.

It was so stupid, he was doing something so normal and casual. you barely knew him and you were looking at him with love-sick eyes. Because to you, he looked so good, doing something so normal and maybe you should sit down and really think about your next actions. but you don’t, and you continue to stare and Sebastian notices.

“let’s go-“ he looks up to you, stopping his words when he realizes you were already looking. you feel in a trance when he stares back, with the same feeling in his blue orbs. but you barely know him.

you both snap out of it and start to walk back to the car.

The cold Canadian air hits you, sending a breeze through your hair. Sebastian sees you through the corner of his eye, it makes him smile for some reason. He feels young, like a teenager gazing at a crush in the hallway.

“I wonder what would have happened if we met 10-20 years ago.” Sebastian laughs, such a random question to you.

you hum, “I don’t know.”

Sebastian stares at you from across the car, his fingers graze over the handle and you’re cold. but the door is locked. as serious as ever, like his words wouldn’t knock you to your feet, Sebastian says; “I’d probably ask you on a date, I was really cocky back then because of gossip girl.” he laughs.

you gulp, anxiously waiting for him to unlock the door so you could get in and escape his eye contact.

“And I would decline, because I’d be married to someone else.”

Sebastian’s face falls, only for a moment before he forces out a pursed smile. It doesn't look real and maybe Sebastian isn’t that good of an actor in real life. “and you’d be married. I didn’t know you were married.”

“I know. not anymore.” you say. not like you try to hide it from literally everyone you meet now. Sebastian doesn't know though: and it’s refreshing. but now he’s going to ask about it and you prepare for that speech.

Sebastian unlocks the door.

The ride is a lot more silent now, you enjoy it while it lasts and watch the orange dew when Sebastian drives through the tunnel. you forget to ask where you were going until Sebastian stopped in front of an empty park.

“a park? at night?”

“Absolutely.” he says and he looks so sure of himself, grabbing the bags of food and you can’t help but follow him. you don’t even think about it.

it’s unspoken, and a trust that you don’t recognize in yourself. but you silently follow Sebastian's actions, almost till their own and you two move with the same mind and ideas.

and Sebastian brought a blanket because he just so happened to have one in the car. it’s cold but neither of you care. Sebastian laying on his back with his chest rising slowly, your sit crisscrossed and started going through the bag of snacks as Sebastian switched from gazing at the stars and your stone-like features. you’re so beautiful and Sebastian is so smitten.

“okay,” he sits up abruptly, “mayo and strawberries time, come on.”

He had a Cheshire grin on his face as he shook the mayo bottle. you shake your head, “mhm, no. I hate mayo.”

“I’m serious, you have to try it.” he’s smilesto himself as he squeezes the mayo onto the strawberry and you visually recoil.

“no, absolutely not.” you continue to shake your head.

but Sebastian Stan is Sebastian Stan and he flashes that smile and the moons reflect off his eyes and he’s smiling at you. at you.

“one bite and you can ask me any questions you’d like.” he offers, “anything. no boundaries.”

interesting.

“and you have to try the watermelon.”

he smiles because he knows he’s won. “I'll eat the watermelon if I can ask you one big question.”

you know what the question is, but Sebastian is gazing into your eyes like nothing's wrong. no one has hurt you and you feel warm and young. his blue iris takes you over and it cleans your soul, and he is looking at you.

with a quick roll of the eyes, you agree and Sebastian shoves the berry in your mouth. and sometimes you wish you’d listen to your head more than your heart; especially now.

“ew!” you yell, it comes out muffled because Sebastian put the entire berry in your mouth unprompted, stem and all. you fold into yourself as you search for a napkin to spit it out. “I should have never listened to you! oh my god, that was horrible.”

Sebastian breaks out into laughter as he watches your face scrunch up in disgust, he hands you a napkin and you throw the mushy mayo-strawberry to the side.

“Man, I gotta think of a horrible question.” you snark.

“Try me.” he says, testing the waters.

this feels oddly like the first night he met, maybe he shouldn’t be letting you do this. Maybe he’ll say something wrong again. knowing himself, he probably will.

you can’t look at him, you plop down and stare at the stars and hope he follows. Sebastian does.

“Do you actually like being an actor?”

Sebastian’s quick and ready junket or movie premiere answer is on the tip of his tongue and then he realizes. It's an empty park, night and stars shining down on him and he’s alone. alone with you. you're beside him and he can feel your warmth. Sebastian had to think of a new answer, it puzzles him.

he fully thought you’d ask something embarrassing of him. like it’s not already on some podcast or interview. Sometimes he regrets when he says those vulnerable and knowing things about himself. It's like giving a piece of himself to the world. in exchange: he’s not sure.

“Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t.” he exhales and it’s the only thing he can think of. “recently though; I’ve been liking it a lot less.”

you hum, so he knows you’re listening and you understand and you urge him to keep going. because the weight in his words makes you feel like it’s been bottled up and he’s letting his thoughts out barely, one by one.

“You know, sometimes it just feels like I’m not me. like I'm made up of things people think of me, and it’s hard to differentiate from that.”

he sighs, his chest feels heavy. “i guess I’m just tired of people picking me apart.”

“amen.” you attempt to joke and it leaves Sebastian off guard. but it’s not bad, he chuckles under his breath and you have a small, tiny smile on your face.

It's silent for a while, but it's okay. It's comforting and domestic and it reminds you of the morning Sebastian slept over. But you also know what’s about to come and you decide to just accept it because Sebastian is already asking the question he did before.

“I’m taking my questions now,” he says. “be honest this time. the real you, what broke you?”

the real you. you would never understand, Sebastian Stan.

you decide to go slow, and asses if you’ve been deceived and are stomping on enemy territory.

“Do you know Mile Franco?” the words come out and you don’t recognize your own voice, you feel dirty and slimy.

Sebastian's confusion shows heavily on his face, even if you can’t see it - you hear it in his words.

“the director? yeah. I auditioned to be in like 3 of his movies.”

you barely realize the words leave your lips until the awkward and painful silence follows after, the words rush out so quick you maybe hope Sebastian doesn't understand you.

“he’s my ex-husband. and he’s stolen every single one of those movies from me.”

your mind flashes to the metal ring that you used to wear with pride. the days you were trapped in those multi-million dollar hollywood houses, for literally weeks. you thought you were being loved as you gave the man your scripts and story and directorial work and talent for free. in exchange for what?: a few suicide attempts, trust issues, a 10 million dollar settlement, and a stolen Oscar for director of the year as the one thing to say “fuck you” to him. even if he had endless awards that should have your name on the plate

“Oh.” is all Sebastian can say and your sure you’ve fucked up. and he’s a secret die hard fan of his and he’s fawned over miles at award shows you should've been to, but you always found out he got invited after the red carpet and it was too late. you watch him accept your awards on the television.

“I met him fresh into film school. I graduated high school early so I was only 17. I had nothing to my name at the time” you exhale a shaky breath. “we were married for 13 years, it took 2 hospital trips for me to leave him. I took him to court for the rights - lost - and got settlement money instead.”

Sebastian feels his mouth go dry when he listens to you. abruptly sitting up, making you flinch as he looks down at you. anger, confusion, disgust, nervousness: you couldn’t tell but his face flared up with emotions as he furrowed his eyebrows.

“so all of his movies… you wrote? like all of them?”

“yes.” it comes out strangled and more like a croak.

Sebastian is processing what that all means to you for, for the film industry and himself. He loved his movie and admired him. Sebastian can only think to joke about it and also make a pathetic, desperate attempt to make you feel better.

“That explains why his movies have been really bad recently.” he scoffs and you actually laugh. Sebastian wants you to feel better.

“I guess.” you sigh. sitting up next to him.

Sebastian always knows how to push everything slightly over the edge and despite how much he’s talking himself from doing that with you. mysterious, mysterious girl. He can’t help himself and he begins to tread in unfamiliar territory.

“you’re divorced, away from him. So why do you continue to write movies and go uncredited?”

you breathe in. ready to give your avoidance-type answer you’d give Grace or change the subject. but Sebastian's looking at you and he looks caring and trusting and he’s not your therapist. you wonder what is wrong with you and if you should run and hide that this will be another Miles.

“I feel like they have this idea that when someone goes through something like I did, they’re supposed to blossom and take control and gain that power back.” you sigh, the continuous trope you see in the media that tire your back: because it’s not you, and you feel like a fraud. “But that’s not me, because I got pushed into that comfortable zone of being in the shadows despite the fact it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. I know nothing else.”

Sebastian doesn't say anything. He doesn't know what to say and for once — the silence makes you uncomfortable. a light-hearted scoff leaves you, “and the reasons you don’t want to be an actor are the reason I don’t want that fame.”

“makes sense.” Sebastian says. he knows deep down that despite the fire brewing in the bottom of his stomach that feels betrayed for you. He doesn't act, you wear your stubbornness on your shoulder and Sebastian knows that no amount of cotton candy grapes will make you have a sudden epiphany tonight.

but he also knows the pent-up emotions of being silenced and talked over, and giving up trying anything else.

“get up.” Sebastian speaks softly, your eyes glance at him.

“What?” The smile on Sebastian's face confused you more. slowly, you rose up and went straight next to him. short-lived when Sebastian grasps your hand and jerks you up an empty field around the park, stumbling over your feet as he guides you to the top of the hill.

“okay, and stand here.” Sebastian still hasn't answered your questions, you were sensing a pattern. but you obey and stand directly next to him. you stare down the hill, you feel taller.

“Sebastian? what are you doing?”

“do you trust me?” he asked plainly, a tease at the end of his words that caused your lip to quirk up slightly. it’s getting too easy for him to do this.

“I barely know you.”

“You know more than most.” Sebastian breathes out and quickly faces the sky again. “Now, breathe.”

you inhale slowly and exhale, your chest rises and you wonder why you trust him. you probably shouldn’t.

“scream,”

“what?”

“scream, scream as loud as you want, scream at the stars, scream at the clouds, scream at the world. just scream until you feel better.”

Sebastian finished and you look and see a solemn smile on his face. “You're crazy.”

“do it.”

you turn to the stars, keep your mouth shut. an invisible latch on it that’s stopped you from this for years - decades. You can’t help but wonder how often Sebastian does this and if his therapist told him to do this. Does he even go to therapy? probably not.

before you can even muster up anything to scream about, a deep and loud yell startles you. Sebastian begins screaming his head off and you're laughing suddenly, you don’t know why but you are.

“Come on.” he encourages, slightly disappointed that you didn’t join straight away. but Sebastian is good at pushing, and you need a lot of it.

“There's something about you, Sebastian Stan” you whisper enough for him to hear, it mixes in with the soft sounds of the wind.

“scream or I’ll cry myself to sleep.” Sebastian deadpans.

“This is manipulation.”

Sebastian just smiles and turns back around and screams, again. loud but you don’t flinch this time. playfully you roll your eyes, gulping down all your anxieties and you really hope the dam doesn't break fully and you end up crying. you scream, loud and shrill but Sebastian hears the pain in it and is proud you're letting at least a little bit of it out.

it died down and faded into belly laughter, Sebastian clutched his stomach and curled into himself. a wide Cheshire grin that matched yours now.

“I hope no one calls the cops on us,” he mentions through waves of laughter.

“Just name drop, we’ll be fine.” you wave him off and don’t notice that he’s staring at you with a glint in his eyes that are highlighted by the stars and moon. He looks gorgeous, only if you could see it. you’d know how love sick he was growing.

Sebastian's laughter subdued and he glanced from you and the large hill. an idea pops into his head and for a moment he wonders if he’s pushing too far, but it is forgotten when he goes to grab your hand.

“Now we roll!” he yells out, a childish grin on his face. you whip your head towards him and his hand that holds yours. he is so warm, you feel a sense of comfort in your chest.

“What?!”

and you’re rolling, Sebastian pulls you down and your face is met with wet grass. but you can’t help but just laugh some more when you find yourself at the bottom and in Sebastian’s arms. you're not bothered by the sudden closeness, you feel you should be.

“you’re a horrible influence, look at my hair!” you point out.

“Your hair looks great.” Sebastian says, one hand on your waist and the other patting any fly away or grass in your hair away.

his eyes glance to your lips, and you notice that. you feel your heart beating faster and you wonder if Sebastian can hear it too. with Sebastian so close, chest to chest, you're sure he can.

“you going to throw me off or…?” you gulp.

Sebastian just shakes his head, his iris glancing at every single detail of your face. “nope.”

“Oh.”

not to be cliche, but the world feels like it’s stopped. the quietest sound of Sebastian thumb grazing against your skin, the wind stops blowing through the grass and leaves and it’s just you and him.

“I hope I'm not misreading the situation…” Sebastian alludes, slowly closing the distance between you two.

“you’re not.” you breath out and barely a second later his lips are on yours.

it’s wrong, everything about this is wrong. you feel the rise of doom in your stomach. but he’s warm and soft against your lips and your heart says something different because it feels so right. he feels like the first drink on a night out, you know tomorrow will be hell but you couldn’t stop yourself because he feels so good.

Sebastian's tongue swipes across your lips and his hands grasp tighter on your hip and back. He flips you over gently, his knee is in between your thighs but it’s not sexual. He kisses you gently and fully, he doesn't tease and takes his time. you feel the grass beside your head and it pricks at your skin, but it doesn't bother you.

a small sound comes from each of your lips, a moan even. it’s not hungry or asking for more, you feel full and content. Sebastian isn’t looking for your body or making this kiss feel like some milestone to be advanced after.

but then he pulls back and you feel empty, it’s so confusing — you hate it.

“was that too much?” he asks, still so giddy and head high from having you against him.

“not at all. thank you.”

a moment of silence, it’s not uncomfortable or ungiving, but you pull away and Sebastian crawls off you. rising to his feet and lending you a hand. you check your phone, it’s late - way late.

“I think I should be getting back.” you sigh, this feels like the end of a movie. reality hits you tomorrow and you feel the high calm down, oh how will you replace it?

Sebastian looks a little disappointed, but he attempts a face for you to not see it. “Okay, I’ll drive you.”

He pulls you by the hand again and for the last time that night, you sit in his passenger seat and continue to listen to whatever’s on the radio. small and meaningless chatter, about movies and television. specifically horror for a while. Sebastian doesn’t like horror which shocks you. but he also makes fun of you for the fact your favorite movie is Rocky and mayday.

you watch him when he smiles and frowns or when he does that thing where he pokes his tongue on the side of his cheek, you deny to yourself that you think it’s hot. warm and orange lights from driving through a tunnel show on his face and your brain instantly thinks you want to make a movie with orange color grading, with Sebastian as the leading man. probably something depressing.

The thought of being in love with Sebastian plagues your mind for a moment, and you wonder if this is what it would feel like.

and you hate the feeling even more when he drops you off at the hotel and you're left alone again with nothing but your thoughts. you long to see him again and it scares you.

the orange bottle in your bag taunts you, you can’t help it. old habits die hard.

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