Chapter Text
“My mom just doesn’t fucking get it,”
Abigail said. Loudly. She’s the loudest person in Pelican Town, by far.
“Abby!” Sam looked up from the pool table and scowled at Abigail. Sebastian just snickered.
“Doesn’t get what, Abigail?” Sebastian asked, not looking up from his wrist, where he was tugging the sleeve of his hoodie.
“That my hair’s never gonna be brown again. I’ve tried everything. No developer can lighten this purple.”
“Well, maybe it’s for the better. Purple kind of suits you. I can’t imagine you with brown hair,” Sam said.
“We literally knew each other in middle school, idiot,” Abigail remarked. “Before I dyed my hair.”
“Well yeah, but like, I hadn’t gained consciousness yet.”
Sam flicked his wrist and the white ball went soaring, hitting the old wooden doorframe, narrowly missing the entryway to the main saloon area. Sam, Abigail and Sebastian all looked at each other with wide eyes.
“Who threw that?!” Gus bellowed.
“It was Abby,” Sebastian and Sam said in unison. The two of them immediately erupted into laughter, and Abigail shoved the two of them, holding back her own laughter as she swore at them.
“Shut the hell up, you idiots,” she wailed. “They’re lying, Gus!! I swear, it was Sam!”
“Just keep it together over there. You guys have caused enough trouble in this building to turn my hair gray,” Gus shouted, projecting over the bustle of the Friday night Saloon crowd.
From the rec room, the three of them could spot Shane rolling his eyes and glaring over his massive cup of beer- probably his fifth round. To Shane, Friday night was no different than a Monday night.
The three of them settled down, slowly making their way over to the old, lumpy couch in the corner. Abigail tossed herself onto the couch, spreading her legs and making herself comfortable. Her fishnets were almost too ripped to wear now, accompanied by large woolen socks and dirty airforces that squeaked when she walks. She had a way of wearing clothes differently than others, making everything kind of her own- her flared black skirt had bunches of lacy fabric sewn underneath it. She wore an old long-sleeved shirt that said “Wank Station”, which was Sam, Abby and Sebastian’s original band merch from before they changed the name. Abby’s excessive bunch of necklaces almost completely covered up the logo.
Sam, to Abby’s left, sat next to her shortly after. He’s been pretty much wearing the same outfit since he was 14, with the addition of a few new piercings each year. His jeans hung low on his hips with his waistband of his red boxers peeking out, and his layered long sleeve - short sleeve combo nearly covered his waist altogether. For shoes, he wore a relatively new pair of yellow Nike dunks.
And Sebastian, of course, never wears anything but black. A black hoodie, black skinny jeans with rips on the knees, and black converse that have almost fallen completely apart.
Sebastian stood to the side of the couch, comfortably positioned with one knee up on the couch, close to where Sam’s arm was resting, almost touching.
“So,” Sam said with bright eyes, “what’s next?”
“What do you mean?” Abigail asked, playing with a knot in her hair and failing to detangle it.
“He means for the night,” Seb said before Sam could reply. Sam and Sebastian made quick eye contact.
“Oh. Well, I dunno. I guess I could go home and sneak out later, but I dunno. I could get caught, and Yoba knows I’m on thin ice already.”
“Damn. When’s Caroline gonna loosen up on you?” Sam said.
“Shit, you tell me. In MY opinion, 16 is old enough to stay out past 10pm, but tell that to her.”
“Well,” Sebastian chimed in, “There’s always next weekend. It’s not like we have to stay out late every Friday night.”
“Ughh, I don’t wanna wait a whole nother week,” Abby groaned, sinking back into the couch. “I wanna have FUN.”
Sebastian and Sam shot each other a look again, too fleeting for Abby to notice.
“It’s okay,” Sam said, waiting until the last minute to slide his eyes away from Sebastian. “Like Seb said. There’s next week. We’ll watch a movie or something and figure out a way to keep you out later. And I’ll take the blame if your mom gets mad.”
“Thats true. She does somehow like you more than me.” Abby gestured toward Sam and rolled her eyes. Sebastian snorted.
“Abigail?” Caroline called from the Saloon. She was bundled up in a purple coat and a big white scarf.
“Damn it,” Abigail muttered. “Coming,” she called while pulling herself off the couch reluctantly. “See you guys.”
Sam and Sebastian watched Abigail leave the Stardrop Saloon with her mother, the two of them bickering uselessly as they stepped out into the brutal November night air. Snowflakes swirled into the warm saloon, escaping the freeze, just before the huge wooden doors slammed shut.
Sebastian took Abigail’s seat on the couch, feeling relieved at Abigail’s absence but never daring to say it out loud. It’s not that anything is wrong with Abigail. Neither Seb or Sam would hesitate to call her their best friend. But sometimes even best friends can kind of take it out of you. Sometimes best friends can be exhausting. Annoying. Unwanted.
Sometimes Sebastian just liked to hang out with Sam. Sometimes, during the friend group’s weekly Solarian Chronicles games, Sam might arrive early, before Abigail. And as soon as Abigail gets there, Sebastian never fails to catch that feeling. The way the air changes when Abigail joins the two of them. The way he feels Sam stop looking at him quite as much, the way Sebastian can’t put all of his energy into Sam anymore, can’t focus on the one-on-ones, for sake of having to divide his attention between the two of them- and Yoba knows Abigail requires more attention than the average teenager.
But now, Sebastian sits with Sam in the Saloon rec room. He exhales, feeling all the social pressure dissipate from his skin. He glances over at Sam after resting his eyes for a blissful 15 seconds. Sam’s already looking at him, just as Seb probably could have predicted. The Saloon has a sort of glow from the warm lights and the huge fireplace in the room over, and Sam is illuminated by the warmth. His face isn’t as round as it used to be when they were kids. Crazy how only a few years can change someone’s face forever- Sam’s jaw is smooth, the rounded edges of his face framed by his heaps of blonde hair. The not-quite-curly, not-quite-straight locks have never really required much maintenance to look good. He has his bad hair days like anyone else, but certainly less often.
Sam’s green eyes were an absolute spectacle, roofed by wispy, dark brown lashes that any girl would kill for. Freckles dotted Sam's face like stars- so many of them covered his nose and cheeks that they almost couldn’t be counted. Sebastian might try. He’d love to try.
“Your place or mine?” Sam asked in a low voice, flashing a crooked grin, the light barely hitting his small silver piercing on his tongue.
His tone made Sebastian’s stomach flip upside down. Seb knew what Sam meant when he asked that- and he didn’t mean what the phrase implies.
“I dunno,” Seb said, not breaking eye contact. His eyes flickered though, as he considered which place they should pick to smoke. Seb’s is better, since it always kind of smells like weed anyway and Robin’s done caring, but Sam’s room is closer and they wouldn’t have to walk as far in the cold. Plus, Seb would probably end up spending the night anyway.
“Mines closer,” Sam said, as if reading Seb’s mind.
“Yeah.”
That settled it, they’d go to Sam’s. We can go ahead, Seb thought. But the two of them sat on the couch anyway, staying in their spots, eyes on each other like breaking eye contact would end the world. Sam took the plunge, lifting himself up off the couch and pulling his eyes off of Seb. Sam stretched, tugging the waistband of his jeans up. Seb watched the hem of his shirt lift up to reveal Sam’s midriff, and the jeans gently land back into their original position after Sam dropped them down. He flicked his eyes up almost immediately, out of fear that Sam might spot his eyes- the seeds of panic suddenly sprouted at the bottom of Seb’s stomach. What if Sam saw that? What if Sam thinks Sebastian is some kind of creep? Like he lives off the sight of Sam’s skin?
“Seb?”
Sebastian glanced up at Sam, not realizing that he was out of it in the first place.
“Shit. I’m sorry,” Sebastian muttered, standing up and suddenly standing directly in front of Sam. Sam was taller than Sebastian- not by a lot. This used to bother him, but now he was used to it. He’d deal with the jokes and the teasing, because it was worth it to hear Sam’s laugh, even if Seb was the butt of the joke.
Sebastian looked up and met Sam’s eyes.
“Good to go?” he asked and gestured his shoulder towards the door. Sam beamed at Seb.
“Yeah, let’s do it.”