Written for Day 5 of Seblaine Week over on tumblr. But really I've been wanting to write this since AMN came out.

When it came down to it, completely changing his identity had been far easier than he had ever thought it would be. All it took was starting college in a new state (on the other side of the country, for good measure), creating a new Facebook account, and at the start of each semester he had a quiet word with his professors that he preferred to go by Sebastian, after his late paternal grandfather instead of the Christopher that showed up on their class roster.

Gone was Chris Stewart (except during the two week he spent at home over winter break because he had put his mom through enough without having to add this to the list.) and in his place stood Sebastian Smythe.

The change would be a legal and permanent one as soon as he graduated college.

Sebastian and Christopher were not at all alike. And, if Sebastian were to be honest with himself (which he wasn't, as a policy, or with anyone else, for that matter), she and Sebastian shared a lot of characteristic, excepting the psychopathic penchant for killing boyfriends, that one seemed best left behind.

xx

No one was ever supposed to get close again. That was what he had promised himself while he was lying in the hospital bed, mother drifting in and out of uneasy consciousness at his side.

It was a promise he kept through his senior year of high school and his first two years of college where he had gained a bit of a reputation for his casual dalliances. Guys, girls, it didn't matter. Anyone to replace the feeling of her fingers on his skin.

Then he met Blaine. Three days into his junior year at a frat party where he was drinking Pepsi and pretending like there was rum in there too. (He didn't drink, still. He never wanted to not have control over his body or mind again, never mind the worry that he'd turn into his father. But he could pretend like a pro by halfway through the first semester of his freshman year.)

Sebastian turned a corner and he was there, laughing with some friends, arms drunkenly flailing as he recounted some story.

He couldn't remember the last time he had wanted someone so badly.

It took some persuasion (and a lot of compliments, perfectly timed for maximum flustering impact) but at the end of the next week's party they went home together. And the one after that. And the one after that. And soon party hookups became coffee runs, movie Mondays, and pizza Thursdays.

It stopped being about wanting him and started being about wanting to be with him.

xx

Blaine knew there was more to Sebastian than he let on. He never talked about himself. Not really at least. His life before college was almost a complete mystery, except for the once briefly mentioned fact that he had lived in Paris. He didn't even talk about his family.

And there were the scars on his wrist. A crisscrossing mess that littered his left forearm. Blaine had only seen them once because, despite their year long relationship, Sebastian was almost never without a shirt. He did almost everything in long sleeves from sleeping to running, no matter what the temperature. The only time he was ever without them was when they were having sex, but he always insisted the lights be off for that and as soon as they were done, Sebastian slipped from bed to pull on a shirt; the athletic kind with thumb holes that assured his sleeves stay securely over his arm.

He might know Sebastian better than anyone else at their college, but even he didn't know everything.

xx

The entire morning ransacking his dorm room in search of his biology textbook. Why Blaine had put off taking his science gen ed until his senior year he couldn't understand and naturally he managed to misplace his notebook with only a week to go until the midterm. He had been just about to start going through Sam's things when his roommate had come in and suggested he had probably left it at his boyfriend's when he had gone there after last week's study group.

If he sprinted there and back he should be able to make it to class, with enough time to grab the cup of coffee he so desperately needed.

Fumbling with the key that Sebastian had given him the day after he had moved into his new apartment, Blaine let himself in, eyes already scanning the room for his notebook.

Instead they settled on an unfamiliar woman who was sitting and reading on the couch.

"Hello!" After a surprised moment she put the book down and stood up, smoothing her slacks of wrinkles. "You must be Blaine," the women said with a wide smile as she pulled Blaine into a hug. "It's so great to finally meet you. Chris has told me so much about you."

"I'm sorry, but you are you?" He asked in confusion.

"I'm Chris' mother. I know I should have told him I was coming, but I thought it would be a nice surprise. I've hardly seen him since he moved east. And I can't blame him, Fairview is nothing compared to here."

"Chris?"

"My son?" She was looking at him with concern now. "You are Blaine, aren't you?"

Blaine wasn't really sure of anything at the moment, but he nodded politely. "I actually just came to grab my notebook." He gestured to the stack on the coffee table, snatching up the one he needed. "And I really need to be going or I'm going to be late for class."

"Of course. I won't keep you."

"It was a pleasure meeting you Ms…"

"Christenson. Good thing Chris decided against taking my name after the divorce. Not that I would have let him give up Stewart. His dad means too much to him."

"Right," Blaine nodded politely again and let himself out the front door.

He couldn't stop thinking about the encounter. It had been strange, to say the least. He thought about calling Sebastian to let him know, but he was in the middle of an exam. After a few minutes' debate, he settled for sending off a text that read 'The weirdest thing just happened at your apartment…'

The woman had kept talking about a Chris. Blaine didn't think he knew too many Chris'. The only one he could think of had been in his music theory class during Freshman year and they had only talked twice. Maybe it was Sebastian's elusive roommate? Blaine had only met him once because the girl he was seeing ('not girlfriend, fuck buddy' Sebastian had insisted the one time Blaine had made that mistake) had a place closer to campus and Sebastian rarely talked about him but he was pretty sure that Sebastian had called him Hunt, although knowing Sebastian, that was probably some sort of nickname.

That must be it then, he decided as he got off the bus and made his way to his lecture hall. Why Sebastian's roommate was talking about Blaine to his family he still wasn't sure, but the woman seemed very friendly, so maybe they were just close. (Although the ramrod way he remembered Hunt carrying himself when the collided in the hallway a few weeks ago gave Blaine the faint impression that he wasn't close to anyone.)

The idea held until their mid-lecture break.

A precursory Facebook search of the name Chris Stewart came back with hundreds of results, none of which seemed immediately helpful.

Vaguely he tried to recall the name of the city she said she was from. Fairfax? Fairview? He typed both + Christ Stewart into Google. The latter of which came up with several articles from the sports section of some Washington newspapers, all of which were track related. The first two articles only had text but the third one had a helpful picture.

It wasn't a picture of Sebastian's roommate. It was a picture of Sebastian, looking several years younger and happier than Blaine had ever seen him. He had just set the State record for the 440.

Blaine felt numb.

xx

"Hey, babe," Sebastian wrapped his arms around his boyfriend's waist, catching him by surprise as he left his lecture.

Blaine didn't look happy to see him. He twisted out of Sebastian's grasp and kept walking.

Sebastian tried not to feel too dismayed. Everyone had bad days and Blaine, who was normally a bundle of warmth and energy, was no exception. "So what happened at my apartment?" He asked, hurrying to catch up as Blaine continued his power walk out of the building. "Babe?"

When they got a safe distance from the building into an area of relative quiet, Blaine finally turned around.

"I met your mother."

Sebastian titled his head in confusion. "You what?"

"Met your mother." Blaine looked angry now. "Or I'm assuming she was your mother since she was in your apartment, sitting on your couch. Only she kept calling you Chris. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

Sebastian felt like the ground had just dropped out from beneath him. "W-what?" He laughed nervously.

Blaine sighed. "You should get home. She probably fell asleep on your couch by now. She looked exhausted when I saw her. It's a long flight from Washington."

"Blaine, I can expl-"

"Go home, see your mother. Call me tonight or tomorrow."

"But-"

"Please." The anger had disappeared and all that was left was confused betrayal. "Tomorrow."

xx

Sebastian loved Blaine. He really, truly did. Certainly more than he had loved Cheryl and more than he had believed he loved Vanessa. He wasn't really sure how it had happened, not when he tried so hard to resist it. But it had.

He trusted Blaine, with his life even. And, all things considered, that was not something he said lightly.

For months he'd been trying to come up with a way to tell him everything. Because Blaine deserved to know that he had spent the last year dating a lie. And there were so many things to tell him.

That the only time he had ever left the country was when his family went on vacation to Whistler the year before the divorce; an apology gift to make up for an 'accidental' shove over the coffee table and the terrified cry of a teenage boy, woken by the shouting, who had witnessed something he was never meant to.

That the only time he ever played lacrosse was in PE, but he had a collection of track medals, proudly displayed in the upstairs hallway.

That he hadn't touched a drop of alcohol his entire college career and had only tried to order Courvoisier in his coffee that one time make an impression and because he knew that coffee shop wouldn't have it. (Although he was pretty sure Blaine knew the latter half.)

That, before college, the gayest thing that had ever happened to him was when Cam touched his dick once on a dare when they were 12. And the only reason he had let himself look at men in college was borne from a desperate need for something different, something that kept his mind from flashing back and remembering everything he was trying so hard to forget.

Mostly, he just wanted Blaine to know all of him, instead of just the little pieces that slipped through.

He was getting closer and closer to telling him, strength buffered by the belief that Blaine's heart was big enough to maybe love that part of him too.

This hadn't been how he wanted him to find out.

xx

Neither of them slept at all the night.

Sebastian managed to wait until 9 in the morning to call.

"Hey," Blaine answered, voice low and rough from lack of sleep.

"Hi," Sebastian's voice cracked, exhausted from repressing sobs all night. He'd been on the couch so his mom could have the bed, the guest room having been used for storage for all of his and Hunter's excess crap. She'd come out to check on him no less than seven times and he had feigned sleep every time.

"How are you?"

"Fine." As fine as one could be when they were locked in their bathroom for privacy and anxiously awaiting their entire life to fall apart again. "You?"

"Yeah. Fine."

They sat in uncomfortable silence for several very long minutes.

"So…" Blaine finally prompted.

Sebastian tried to keep the panic at bay. "Now?"

"Wasn't that the point of you calling? So we could talk?"

No. The point was so Sebastian knew Blaine didn't hate him. That he still cared enough to pick up the phone. The point was to prove that maybe there was still hope for them in the future.

"I can't. Not like this. Not over the phone." The thought alone was nearly enough to induce a panic attack. "I-I'll tell you e-everything. P-promise. But I need-need to see y-your face."

"Hey, hey. Shh," Blaine's voice soothed, alarm evident but he was doing a good job of keeping it at bay. He was still hurt. Angry enough that he wanted to demand the explanation he was owed right then. But he also understood what it was like to be haunted by the ghosts of your past (he still couldn't walk through parking lots at night without his heart speeding up) and it seemed like Sebastian's ghosts were worse than he had imagined.

"Whenever, okay?" Blaine said when it seemed like Sebastian had gotten his breathing more or less under control. "Whenever you're ready, just come over. I'll be here. Maybe I'll even get you some Courvoisier," he joked, trying to lighten the mood.

"I don't drink." The first of many confessions.

"Oh." Blaine's mind struggled to reconcile the statement with the fact that whenever he went to a party Sebastian was never seen without a solo cup in his hand. "Okay."

"I'll be by soon," Sebastian promised just before he hangs up.

"Okay," was all Blaine has left to say.

xx

It was three days before Sebastian got over to Blaine's. He didn't call ahead of time, and Blaine was out, so he was forced to sit at Blaine's desk for nearly an hour with Blaine's roommate glaring down at him from his lofted bed where he was pretending to be reading. It was uncomfortable but he deserved so much worse so he didn't say anything, just sat there and endured the scrutiny.

"It's okay, Sam," Blaine said when he walked into the room. His jacket was damp from the rain and he made sure to carefully hang it on the back of the door. With one final scowl, Sam jumped down from his bed and shuffled out of the room, shooting a quiet look of concern at his roommate on his way out.

Blaine changed into dry clothes before sitting on his bed. "Do you want?" Awkwardly he patted the space next to him, wanting to make this as easy for Sebastian as he could. Blaine barely recognized the man sitting across from him. Despite the fact that his skin was a pallid shade of grey, everything about him somehow looked darker, like he had shuttered himself closed from the inside.

"Can I?" He tried not to look or sound too hopeful. For him this was all about Blaine who looked like he hadn't had a good night's sleep within the last month. Sebastian had done that.

Blaine scooted up into the corner of the bed, curling in on himself as Sebastian perched on the edge. But with Sebastian so close for the first time in days he couldn't resist the desire to reach out and touch him. Anything to remind himself that the other man was real.

"I feel like I-" Blaine started to say, playing with Sebastian's fingers as he tried to figure out what to say. "Should I call you Chris now or something?"

Sebastian flinched. "No. Christopher Stewart was an idiot," he bit out venomously.

He swallowed twice and started talking.

He told then entire story like it had happened to someone else. But he told all of it. Told Blaine about his Dad's drinking problems, about Cheryl, and Matt and Cam, whom he realized with a pang he hasn't talked to in years. And finally he told him about Vanessa Redmann (2 n's) who came into his life in a flurry of scattered papers and left him for dead, wrist slit open by his own hand and mind swaddled in a cloud of angel dust. How all he could remember of the day was the taste of cherry soda and the desire to fly. That he wasn't the first but thanks to his mother would hopefully be the last.

It wasn't until he was done with the story that he looked over at Blaine, having chosen instead to focus all of his attention on the water stain under the window.

Blaine looked horrified. No, he looked absolutely disgusted.

It was too much for Sebastian. He couldn't stand to hear the same words of blame and condemnation that had plagued his junior and senior years of high school repeated again, years later, by this man he had allowed himself to love.

Ignoring the strangled shout of his name echoing down the hallway, he ran.

xx

Avoidance was the best option. And apparently something Sebastian excelled at, even beyond his own expectations. He started utilizing his professors post-class office hours, walking with them from the classroom to their office, always engaged in some deep and very important discussion. With his left over birthday money, he bribed Hunter to start spending more time at home so he could turn Blaine away whenever he showed up. And just as an added precaution he made sure to consistently switch up the times he spent in the library.

He also started going out religiously again, an act which was equal part avoidance and distraction because, somehow, time alone was seeming a lot more lonesome than it used to.

It was after three weeks of self-inflicted misery and 15 parties that Lydia came bounding up to him, looking stern and disapproving while he was in the middle of flirting with a hot sophomore. (Only flirting because he was pretty sure that he was actually still in a relationship.)

"I just realized," she pronounced, making grabby hands at Sebastian's cup which he skillful maneuvered away from her, "that we've never done shots together. In all the years we've known each other. Never once." She pouted. "It's like we're not even friends."

Friends wasn't really the word to describe them. Before he started dating Blaine he and Lydia had engaged in a series of one night stands that spanned two years as well as many closets, showers, and other people's beds.

"Not tonight, Lyds," he said, giving her blonde locks a playful tug. "Maybe next time."

"Nope. Nu-uh. You're practically sober, Bas." With a surprising amount of strength she pulled him down the hallway and into the kitchen where Marcus was pouring out a row of vodka shots. "TWO MORE FOR ME AND BAS," she shrieked, drowning out Sebastian's repeated protestations.

"You get him to do shots and you guys can have the entire row," snorted Stephen.

"He's never done them with you either?" As one, the entire kitchen shook their head. "Rude, Smythe. Very rude."

"Yeah, Smythe. Where are your manners?"

He stared at the mostly empty bottle of Absolut. He had reasons not to drink. Very good reasons. Excellent ones, really.

And he hated them. Hated that they were the reason he was in his current mess and hated how much control over him they had.

Fuck it, he thought and stepped closer to the counter. And fuck Vanessa and fuck his dad and everyone else who had shaped him. He never asked for it and if he wanted to be entirely a person of his own making he would be.

"Shot! Shot! Shot! Shot!" His friends chanted in the background as Lydia picked up the end shot.

Gingerly he picked up the miniature glass and stared critically at the clear liquid sloshing around inside it. He shrugged. "Fuck it," he repeated, this time aloud. He threw his head back and swallowed the burning liquid down. Over the next half hour he did nine more with various friends who came up with increasingly absurd ways to fight over the right.

At first it was great. It was like the feeling you get when you're driving with your friends in the middle of the summer and your favorite song from when you were 12 comes on the radio, but about absolutely everything.

Unfortunately, that feeling didn't last for long and it very quickly morphed into the inability to feel his face and stand on steady feet.

He needed out.

Somehow he managed to stumble out the door and down the seven flights of stairs. From there he wasn't quite sure where to go and found himself tripping his way across campus.

He had no idea where he was. Everything seemed faintly familiar but he couldn't quite get his mind to focus enough to helpful. Finally he collapsed, terrified and defeated, in the nook of some weirdly shaped building, the name of which danced through his brain before swimming away too quickly for him to grab hold.

He didn't know how long he was squatted there but eventually he came to the realization that he was surrounded by four people who all seemed to be talking at him at once.

"Should we call 911? Look at how he's shaking." The only girl of the group was asking.

Frantically he shook his head. 911 meant the hospital and that was the last thing he needed. Really, all he needed was, "Blaine," he choked out between gasping breaths. "Blaine."

"Who's Blaine?" The girl whispered, looking relieved that he had finally said something.

"Anderson?" The red-headed boy asked in confusion. "Only Blaine I know."

"Your science partner?"

"Not a very common name, is it?" He shuffled over so he was directly in front of Sebastian,, knelt down so they were level with each other and asked very slowly, "Do you mean Blaine Anderson?"

"Blaine," he moaned in reply as he clutched at his spinning head, fingers scrabbling across his forehead.

"I'll give him a call," the red-head said with a shrug.

"We're calling an ambulance if he doesn't know him," one of the other boys said authoritatively. "Dude is freaking the fuck out."

xx

Blaine was just about to crawl into bed when his phone started ringing. He was tempted to not answer it, after all it was after 1 in the morning and he had a 9 am lecture in the morning but when the name that showed up was his lab partner he couldn't help but be curious.

"Nate?"

"Hey, Blaine. Sorry for calling so late. And this is going to sound crazy but..."

Blaine listened as he explained the situation. He was out of bed and cramming his feet into his shower shoes before Nate was finished.

"Where are you?" He demanded.

"Right outside Gardner. The side entrance."

"I live just across the quad. Give me two minutes."

Despite everything Nate had told him, Blaine still wasn't prepared for the sight of his boyfriend huddled against the side of a building, his entire body being wracked by deep, shuddering sobs.

He offered a quiet word of thanks to Nate and his friends and assurances that they would be fine before sinking down next to his boyfriend and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "Oh, Sebastian," he murmured.

Sebastian whined low in his throat.

"Did you take anything? Or do you think someone put something in your drink?"

Jerkily Sebastian shook his head in denial. "No things. No things in my thing jus' the drink thing," he slurred, hands fluttering back and forth from his head to Blaine's shoulder.

"Okay. Okay. That's good. Drunk is good."

"No," Sebastian whimpered. "Don't want it. I dont wanna feel this way 'nymore. Want it to stop. Please. Please."

Part of Blaine was sure that Sebastian wasn't just talking about his current feeling of inebriation.

"I know, sweetheart. I know," Blaine whispered against his temple. "We'll figure something out. I promise. We'll figure it out together."

"Why?" Sebastian was blinking in owlish confusion as though only just realizing that it was Blaine there with him. He scrambled out of Blaine's embrace and tried to put as much distance between them as possible, managing to scratch his hands and face against the exposed brick of the wall behind them in the process, although he didn't seem to notice.

"Because I love you and you're too good a person to have deserved any of this." He pulled Sebastian's hands into his own and held them tightly, mindful of the fresh scratches.

"'M not." Violently, he shook his head in denial. "And you don't love me anymore."

"Of course I still love you, Blaine cried. "You thought...?" He couldn't believe it. He had spent the last three weeks giving Sebastian space because he thought the other boy had been embarrassed about his breakdown and needed it to deal with that. It had never crossed his mind that he was the reason for it.

"I wouldn't still love me. Hell, I think I hate me." Another secret he had been sitting on, this one for far longer. Since before the divorce, probably when he realized that not only was he not enough to hold his family together, he was also genetically predisposition to become the worst kind of monster.

Ensuring that their eyes were locked, Blaine carefully gripped the cuff of Sebastian's sleeve between his fingers and gently rolled it up. Without breaking eye contact he leaned forward and brushed light kisses over the traumatized and scarred skin. "Then I guess I'll just love you enough for the both of us."