"Also tired," he admitted, finishing his drink and handing it to him. "Though my shift is almost over, so I've got that to look forward to. Are you going to be playing tonight?" He nodded toward Sebastian's guitar.
what no I'm not in too many one on ones
“Yeah,” Sebastian sighed, rubbing at the nape of his neck, were a partially hidden scab had formed. “In a few minutes. Probably shouldn’t get too drunk…” He accepted the drink, thanking the bartender. “Thanks.”
Julian saw what seemed to be either a scab or just a dark spot on his neck, but quickly looked away. He knew how uncomfortable it was when people stared at his wounds and scars, and he didn't want to do the same to somebody else. Though he couldn't help feeling worried about Sebastian. He'd definitely noticed his scars, and every time he walked in looking exhausted like he did now, Julian worried. He knew how difficult escaping depression could be, and how easy it was to fall into bad habits again. "Got any songs picked out for tonight?"
Shit. That was a no. Scrambling to come up with a list, Sebastian managed a secretive smile. “Ah, that’s a surprise. Something I wrote by myself, to start.” Shit, shit, shit. He lifted the glass to his lips and drained it in almost one go, shoulders sagging in relief as he began to relinquish control to the alcohol now in his system.
Julian smiled. "Really? I don't think I've ever heard you play anything you wrote yourself. What's it called?" He grabbed a towel and began to wipe the counters down, though he didn't really need to. He just needed to look like he was working so his boss wouldn't be up his ass about being productive all of the time.
Normally, the sight of Julian’s smile would have brought a faint blush to his cheeks, but tonight, there was no reaction. “It’s called— it’s called ‘Nevermind’. I’ve, uh, been working on it for a while.” Not nearly drunk enough, he tapped his glass. “Could I have a refill?”
"Yeah, sure," he said, grabbing a bottle to refill Sebastian's drink. "Are you nervous?"
“No,” he replied simply. Because I won’t be alive long enough to perform. Even now, chatting amiably with the cute bartender, Sebastian could feel the weight on his shoulders, the constant pain, the need to escape. He couldnt do this anymore. Couldn’t fucking do it.
Julian stopped for a moment, looking over Sebastian for a moment. He wasn't always super bright and happy, but he was usually more talkative than this. "Are you sure you're okay?"
“Yup. Like I said, tired. I’m getting ready to move.” This wasn’t a total lie, he was doing so, in a way. Won’t be seeing you for a while, Julian.
He raised his eyebrows. Moving? Why hadn't he heard anything about this before? "Wait, you're moving? When?"
“Tonight, if all goes well,” Sebastian replied evenly, offering a slight smile. He raised his refilled glass again, practically inhaling its contents.
"Tonight?" Julian repeated, sounding shocked, and even a little hurt if you listened closely to his tone. "Where to?"
“Not very far. A couple streets down from where I live now.” The bar was a few streets away from his house, so the half-lie Want too bad.
Julian sighed softly, somewhat relieved. "Well, I hope all goes well."
No, you don’t. But I do. “Thanks, Julian.” Sebastian swayed slightly in his seat, lowering his glass. “Another refill, please?”
"That's three drinks," Julian warned. But he couldn't exactly say no to Sebastian. He was the bartender, getting people drinks was his job. Hesitantly, he refilled his gladd.
“Mm,” Sebastian agreed absentmindedly, shifting in his seat to pull his wallet out of the back pocket of his black jeans. “Thank you.”
"Yeah…" Julian muttered. Although Sebastian had said he was okay twice already, Julian couldn't stop worrying. There was something different about him today. He couldn't help thinking that maybe somebody had hurt him, or something bad happened. But he couldn't ask again.
While he waited for the third drink, Sebastian began to lose himself in the intoxicated buzz now rushing through his veins, swaying in his seat. “Thanks,” he repeated, unsure of what else to say.
Julian finished pouring his drink and gave it to him. "You already said that, but you're welcome."
Sebastian didn’t answer, only tipped the glass back and downed nearly all of the golden liquid within. The whole room seemed to tilt, each individual colour popping— a disorienting but blessedly distracting effect. “I guess,” he began again, words slightly slurred, “It would be too much to ask for.. one more?”
Julian sighed. "I don't think that's a good idea. You've only been here for a few minutes, and you're already pretty drunk. I don't want you passing out in the street on the way home."
That’s not going to happen.. Something tightened in Sebastian’s chest, or maybe jt was just his slightly loopy smile. He stood unsteadily, pushing a wad of bills into Julian’s hand, along with a letter. “Open that— open that at home, tonight,” he instructed, though his tongue was heavy from the amount he’d had to drink. “Not before then. I’m going to the washroom.” He stumbled away before Julian could argue, the smile melting off his face.
Julian felt a sinking feeling in his chest as he watched him walk to the bathroom. Something was definitely not right. He looked down at the letter, then over at Sebastian. He waited until he disappeared from sight before he took off to the back room, muttering "I'm going on my break" when he passed his boss. As soon as he was alone in the back he took a deep breath and opened the letter, terrified of what he might read.
Sebastian pulled the door of the stall closed behind him, retaining enough wits to lock it before he pulled a tiny container from his pocket. Fingers shaking, he unscrewed the lid and tipped a pile of pills into his hand. Before he’d left Julian, he’d grabbed his water bottle from beside his guitar case, and he now raised it to his lips, a single tear trickling down his cheek.
The letter was in almost pristine condition, as if it had been written with the utmost care. The top line read as such:
Dear Julian,
When you read this, I’ll hopefully be dead.
As soon as he got past the first line, Julian had dropped both the letter and the money on the floor. He knew what that meant, what Sebastian was going to do. And if he took enough time to write a whole letter, that means he was serious. Julian felt his chest tighten from panic, and he made his way across the bar and to the bathroom and quickly as possible without running so he wouldn't make a scene. He rested his hand on his phone in his back pocket, just in case things got too bad and he had to call 911. With a shaky breath, he opened the door to the bathroom and walked in. "Sebastian? You in here?"
(Fuck I had a lot of typos I’m sorry I’ll fix that)
Sebastian’s shaking hand almost dropped the water bottle. “J-Julian?” he slurred, doing his best to act confused, despite the fact that he was losing all hope. “I’m uh, sort of busy pissing here..”
(lol I didn't even notice)
"I don't believe you," he said quickly, and possibly a little too harshly. "I, uh… I started reading the letter," he admitted, making sure he didn't sound angry with him.
(Oof)
Fuck. No— oh god no— Sebastian’s panic mounted into a tsunami crashing into him. He didn’t bother responding, only knocked the water bottle back and filled his mouth with water. In his haste to slip a few pills in, they all spilled through his shaking fingers, scattering on the floor.