For Huntbastian Humpday on Tumblr

TW: Takes place in a rehab center, mentions of drug abuse, eating disorders and possibly other types of conditions.

Sebastian's P.O.V.

I've been in rehab for a few weeks now but I've recently moved to another center. I was hoping that they would let me go, but I wasn't so lucky. I told the doctors whatever they wanted to hear, but I guess they didn't buy it. I pretend that I'm fine, I eat whenever they tell me to despite how much it kills me. I feel there's nothing else I can do. It's almost torture being trapped here. There's so much more I could be doing with my time. But I guess every celebrity spends some time in rehab for something or rather, so maybe I'm making more progress than it feels like I am.

I go out for a walk around the courtyard after lunch time, supervised of course, but not nearly as closely as I'm used to. I can actually breathe a little here, which is nice. I notice a frustrated looking guy sitting in a bench. Half bored and half interested I watch him get up and pace back and forth. The closer I look he seems more angry than frustrated. At first I wonder what he's mad about, but the more I think about it, I can probably guess.

After a few minutes of me just standing around watching him, he notices me. My knee jerk reaction is to run off, but I know he already saw me so that wouldn't do much good. I give him an awkward smile as he gets closer, getting a better look at him. He's actually really gorgeous, tall, muscular, the sunlight seemed to dance off his dark blond hair and barely tanned skin.

He stops a few feet away from me, "What are you looking at?"

I smirk, intimidated a little but not scared, "I'm not sure, exactly, I didn't get a name yet."

He raises an eyebrow, "Cute. Who the hell are you, anyway? I haven't seen you around here."

"My name's Sebastian, I just transferred here this morning." I answer pleasantly, "And you are?"

"Hunter." He answers, a hint of pride in his voice.

"How long have you been here?" I ask, running a hand through my hair.

"Too long," he answers, "Walk with me."

It's not a question, but I follow him down the pathway anyway, "I couldn't help but notice you looked a little pissed off back there. Mind if I ask why?"

He rolls his eyes, "Why wouldn't I be? I'm pretty much trapped in this hell hole until my so called doctor decides he feels like signing a release form. It's getting kinda ridiculous at this point..."

I listen closely, nodding occasionally, "I totally see what you mean. Do you mind if I ask what you're here for?"

"Drug abuse," he answers plainly, "Or at least that's what they tell me. Even though I've been sober since I came here, I don't see what difference being stuck here is doing. If I do drugs again, then I do drugs again. If I don't, I don't."

I nod, understandingly, "Well, they want to hear you say that you want to get better. That drugs ruin your life, etc. But then again, I've been doing all that for a while now and it hasn't seemed to work for me."

"Oh yeah?" he asks, raising an eyebrow, "What are you here for?"

"Eating disorder, or something along those lines." I explain to him.

"That doesn't shock me," he comments, "You do look pretty tiny when you mention it. I haven't heard of a lot guys having that kind of problem, though."

I shrug, "I've met a few guys, it is a lot more common in girls, though. Anyway, I want to be a model. And truth be told I've already gained ten pounds since I've been here, it's terrible."

"You must have been a skeleton," he says with a laugh, "But maybe that's your problem right there. If you're going around telling your doctors you're upset about your weight gain, then-"

"I don't tell that to my doctors, I'm not stupid," I interrupt him, shaking my head.

"Then what makes you think it's safe to tell me?"

"You're a stranger," I answer, "You could probably care less what happens to me, and that's all fine and well. I guess I just don't assume you'll run and tell my counselor everything I just told you."

He nods, "Fair enough. I guess you're right there. Just making sure you're on the ball."

I raise my eyebrows, "Of course I am. I probably eat a hundred pounds of leafy green vegetables a day."

He chuckles, "Do they like, force feed you?"

I shake my head, "Hell no. I'd bite their hands off. Besides, I'm not that far gone. I've heard rumors about shit like that."

"That's pretty messed up," he replies, "I mean, if someone wants to starve to death, let them starve to death."

"Oh thanks." I comment sarcastically.

"I was just joking," he says, a hint of remorse in his voice, "I didn't actually hurt your feelings, did I?"

"No, of course not," I answer, "But you could seriously upset someone, so I'd be careful who you stay stuff like that around."

He rolls his eyes, "True, but we're at a rehab center, I mean, what's the worst that could happen?"

I narrow my eyes, looking at him for a moment, "You're pretty insensitive, huh?"

He nods, "Yep. And not even slightly apologetic about it."

"You seemed a little guilty when you thought you might have hurt my feelings a minute ago."

He takes my hand in his, "Yeah, but you're not so bad. I've got a soft spot for you."

"The feeling's mutual." I reply, beaming.

We walk a few loops around the courtyard before I'm called to go back inside. I give him a half smile before I head in, "I guess that's me."

He nods, "I'd hug you but that's frowned upon around here. I'll get you a lot better than that later, if you know what I mean." he adds with a wink.

I glance around, hoping that no one's looking. Either way, I give a quick peck on the cheek, "Catch you later." I skip back up to the door, a new kind of energy inside me. Maybe being at yet another hospital wouldn't be so unbearable this time.