isildae (isildae) wrote in sebastian_slash,

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Sebastian part two...

It's Sunday morning and I spent the night with Sheila. Not intending to ofcourse, but I'd had a little too much whiskey, and she crept in with me some time during the night. She says she and Markus are an item, but I'm certain I've seen Markus with Peggy more often than not. I know Sheila's had her eyes on me since we first met, but she's a little too young and oh yeah...a girl...

The room is still dark, but there's a bit of light creeping through, and I can't see Sheila clearly. I can almost pretend she isn't there at all, or that she's somebody else...Maybe even Him. I remember him all of a sudden, how his face entranced me so, and how warm his body was next to mine, and its an exhilarating feeling, one I haven't had in many years. I'm young really, but I've never had the kind of loving relationships a lot of people claim to have. All my life I've known what it is to be alone, and to be neglected, almost to be non-existent. Its strange now to live in the lime-light, to have all eyes on me as though I was more important than my fellow man. It isn't the truth no matter how my associates make me want to believe it...A pretty face can't buy happiness they say, and they were right. So now to feel like this, to feel my body shudder and quake with remembering, over something so little as a touch and a glance. Yes it is absurd, but lovely all the same.

His eyes were like a memory, something from childhood so magical and desirable...I say I had an unhappy childhood true, but I can imagine it being beautiful, like his eyes. Chris...Christopher, like a song. His voice like music, and his body like a dancer beneath me, that's what I long for, that is what haunts my dreams.

"What if he doesn't remember?" I must have said that out loud, for Sheila is stirring beside me in all her naked glory, thoroughly unimpressive I must say. Just then Peggy barges in wearing her 50's style glasses and high heels, ready to take on the world. "Get up lazies, parties over!" Ahhh yes Peggy, tactful as ever.

Sheila rolls over looking embarrassed, so I feign disinterested, searching gingerly for my pants. "Heavy schedule again today kids..." Peggy reminds me, tossing me said pants from across the room. "Your meeting with a magazine at six, breakfast with Donavon at nine, The Semeley shoot  at noon, another meeting with The Gallery at three-thirty, hair and make-up at five, and dinner with Donavon at six...Then I really think you should call your Mother, Lane, she's been hassling Markus and I all week--"

"Fuck my Mother!" I shout. Thats not what I wanted to hear about this bloody early in the morning. I head straight for the door, nearly running over Markus on my way out. I lock myself in the bathroom, leaning over the sink and staring at my own image staring back at me. What is beauty? Not this...The face staring back at me is nothing more than a mask of imperfections that resembles mostly my Father. My Mum must have thought he was beautiful once, but then she was an idiot!" Peggy's knocking softly on the door. "Sorry love, never mind all that..." She's saying, but I ignore her and begin washing my face.

Chris was beautiful...That's all that mattered.

It's already three-fifteen, and I'm bloody exhausted. Sheila's nabbed my fags, "For my health" She reminds me again. The Gallery is filled with hoards of people going this way and that, confused like a pack of cattle. I'm moving about in a daze, while Markus is tiredly trying to lead me to my destination, somewhere, anywhere I can atleast get a coffee and a nap. I've been posing for pictures, pictures, pictures all fucking day! Peggy's off discussing politic's with the Gallery Owner, wide awake and sucking up as always, and Sheila's shuffling behind her trying to learn all she can.

Markus sets me down at a table in the lounge area, and says he'll order us a coffee and a gin tonic straight away. I can hardly lift my head to thank him, so I just nod noncommittally.

I don't notice much, a lot of colors and sounds rushing past me. I must have dozed off, with my head in my lap, because I don't notice when someone comes up infront of me. "Allo mate, what's this?" I'm startled awake to see a familiar face looming above me. "Red...? Red Kensington?" I blanche. I haven't seen him for atleast five years. "S'right mate" He smiles prettily at me. "Red darling, its been ages" I jump up a little too quickly, and Red wraps a steady arm around me. I kiss him french style, cheek to cheek. "I was hoping I'd see you here love, since your me bands benefactor and all." He winks, clutching my waist a bit too friendly like. "Oh your with Dylan and the Fur Coats?" I ask, recalling the name. "Yeah sure" he says "We're set up over there on stage, me mates and I"

I glance over in the direction he's motioning to. Its a low stage with lots of space, and heavy equipment spread over it. His "Mates" are at it with their instruments, practicing like wild robots. While there singer, who's apparently at the lead takes front and centre. He's a pretty thing at that, longish hair and body, and a sweet face only a bit less boyish than mine. He looks a tad nervous, but soon he loosens up when the music starts, his hips begin to sway, and his body pulses with the rhythm. He lets out a rather spirited noise, a long note that echoes with the acoustics. The song explodes out of him, and with the help of his glam-boy mates the room was now alive with vibration and sound.

I can't help but be impressed, nevermind my tiredness. Markus arrives with my tonic and latte, setting them upon the table. "I'm up!" Red states heading for the stage, and he smiles and winks at me, in that sultry way I remember only him  knowing how to do.

"If you think this is entertaining was till you see the Opening, I've never seen art as good as this, Picasso would  have died with envy..." Markus is going on and on, but I'm not listening...The singer is watching me, his eyes intense, as though he's a part of the song, and so am I. I'm lost then, taken into his glittery world. Its good to dream, I think to myself. Sometimes you can't ask for anything more...




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