SEBASTIAN & JORAAN
The sound of the alarm clock woke Sebastian Bloom up, but, like every time, the kid set it half an hour ahead, so he could laze around a little bit more. The teenager enjoyed the calmness of the morning, the gentle light of the first sun rays caressing his face, the warm feel on his skin. These were the only truly relaxing, beautiful moments in Sebastian’s bleak existence.
The boy let out a loud sigh, hugged the pillow to his chest and started to cry, tears running freely down his cheeks and staining the fabric of the pillowcase. At eighteen, the boy already felt old, trapped in a life that wasn’t his, in the middle of a family who either didn’t want him there, or didn’t bother to notice he existed.
If he was allowed to choose, Sebastian would have preferred to pass unnoticed for the rest of his life, that he would have liked to be as short as possible. What was the point of living surrounded by coldness and indifference, without the slightest sign of affection from anyone? His older brother Fabian was always too busy, and even when he wasn’t, the unwanted child, the one responsible for their mother’s death, was avoided like plague.
And still, there was a time in Sebastian’s life when he knew what it was like to be the center of someone’s attention, to be loved and made to feel he was important, that he mattered. The teenager closed his eyes, tears staining his cheeks again. He suddenly wished things would have been different two years earlier, when he had the chance to run and never look back.
Instead of breaking free, he chickened out and came back, willingly chaining himself to the wall, giving up on living altogether. Sebastian shut his eyes tight, wanting to stop the horrible images of Vincent, bloodied and battered at the hands of Alastair Stark, his guardian and uncle. During the torture, the boy’s lover didn’t let out a single whimper, a single bitter word against the sixteen-year-old.
Only when a devastated Sebastian knelt in front of his uncle, swearing on his parents’ graves that he won’t see Vincent again, the beating stopped. From that moment, the youngest of the Bloom brothers ceased to live, he didn’t even exist. All the teenager ever did was to function, a lifeless doll moving, breathing and acting as his uncle and his heartless husband, the Duke of Sandrigham, dictated.
Finally, Sebastian got out of bed and headed to the bathroom, not before tidying his room to perfection, a habit he took from military school. The boy spent a lot of time under the shower and drying himself, the stern voice of the Duke echoing in his head. He was supposed to look presentable, the cold-hearted man said, measuring him from head to toes with his usual contempt.
His Uncle Alastair silently replied by shooting him a warning glare, so Sebastian got the message. He would tie his raven-black, shoulder-length hair in a ponytail and hide it under the collar of the dress shirt and hide the dark circles from under his eyes by applying some skin care product on it. That should do the trick for the long, boring dinner he was going to accompany his Uncle Stark to.
It was a half-private, half-official thing, Sebastian understood from the long litany Alastair served him three days earlier. The boy feigned interest, but in fact he didn’t give a damn, never did. Always acted as it was expected from the mindless, spineless dummy he was, always conformed, never asked. However, some of the details stuck with him, like the identity of the guests and the purpose of his presence at the dinner.
Jaap Van Sloot, Pretoria’s Chief of Police, was coming to New York to a conference, bringing along his only son, who was still grieving the premature death of his mother, a couple of months earlier. The eighteen-year-old Joraan was already a sophomore at one of the most reputable universities in Pretoria, specializing in international law and communication.
Sebastian smiled, a bitter one, remembering the words of his uncle. Young Van Sloot was openly gay, and needed someone his age to keep him entertained and busy during the visit. And the youngest of the Bloom heirs was the logical choice, giving the reputation he had. A ugly laugh escaped from his throat, and he fought hard not to burst into another fit of crying. Yes, everything they were gossiping behind his back was true, if they only knew the whole story...
Back in his room, Sebastian put on a pair of indigo jeans and a white dress, buttoned-down shirt, completing the outfit with a leather vest. Slipping into his dress shoes, he went downstairs, heading to the great salon, Alastair and his husband’s favorite room.
“Sebbie!” A nine-year-old, Eurasian boy, came running from behind a huge armchair, putting his arms around the teenager’s waist. “Wow! You look very elegant! Are you going on a date?”
“What do you know about this?” Sebastian smiled, playfully slapping the kid’s little ass. Go to your room, I’ll be there in a few minutes. Right now, I have to talk to the responsible adults,” he whispered in the little boy's ear. The kid nodded, disappearing on one of the doors.
“You look like a cheap whore, go and put on other, more decent clothes,” the Duke scowled, “or do you intend to further embarrass your uncle?”
Usually, Sebastian avoided conflicts at any costs, lowering the head and taking the insults, but that day, everything was different. Something snapped inside of him, and he couldn’t hold it back. Taking a deep bow, he bitterly replied. “Oh, but I am a whore, Your Grace! Why do you expect me to act otherwise, when the two of you gentlemen are pimping me out to the richest suitors? I’m only behaving according to my role.”
“How do you dare to defy me?!” the Duke snapped too, half raised from his chair, hand raised, ready to hit Sebastian. “You worthless, ungrateful piece of garbage! I never should have allowed Alastair to take you and the other strays in!”
“We were not strays, you did it for money, both of you!” For the first time in two years, the teenager cast his uncle an accusatory look.
To his great surprise, instead of replying to his nephew’s bitter words, the Duke’s husband flinched violently, then lowered his head, staying like that. For once, his uncle’s defeated posture made Sebastian feel if not good, at least avenged for everything he endured over the last two years and a half.
“We paid you for taking us in, for the food we ate, for the roof above our head and clothes on our back. We paid for the poisoned atmosphere, for the mistreatment, and everything you threw at us! I’m not going to change my clothes or take back my words. I’ll be in my cousin's room, if you need me,” the teen nodded curtly, leaving the room.
“Sebastian, wait!” Alastair’s unusually soft voice made the young Bloom turn around. ”We’ll leave earlier, I’ll be ready in ten minutes.”
“It has no relevance for me,” the teen shrugged, “you know where to find me. Bayan needs affection, and I’m going to make sure he gets it. Uncle, Your Grace, with your permission...”
Half an hour later, the uncle and nephew were sitting next to each other in the limousine taking them to the restaurant, in a heavy and uncomfortable silence.
“You are right about everything,” Alastair finally spoke. “If only you didn’t make those horrible mistakes in the past... But I guess it’s too late now, for both of us.”
“So, loving Vince and letting him love me was a horrible mistake...” Sebastian’s voice trailed off, but he didn’t show how much his uncle’s words hurt him. “Why did you marry the Duke?” the boy asked instead.
“Because he was good to me when no one else wasn’t, and because I loved him,” Alastair’s answer came almost instantly. “I still do.”
“Does he love you, too? I don’t think so,” Sebastian bitterly said, then fell silent all the way to the restaurant.
The dinner went extremely well, much to young Bloom’s former guardian’s surprise. His nephew was, to that moment at least, the embodiment of politeness, working his charms on the two Van Sloot, father and son. From the position of military academy graduate, he won the attention and respect of Pretoria’s Chief of Police, the two of them having a pleasant and interesting conversation on aviation defence strategies.
Young Joraan, on the other hand, expressed his interest in New York’s old and more recent history. Sebastian satisfied his curiosity by speaking about the city's numerous monuments, museums and other attractions. His descriptions were vivid, detailed, the other teenager listening to him fascinated and totally captivated.
Through his thick, silky, black eyelashes, Sebastian examined his conversation partner. At eighteen years old, Joraan Van Sloot was on the leaner, more delicate side, one of things young Bloom liked the most about him. His light-red hair and bright-green eyes filled with kindness, compassion and sadness made him very attractive.
The boy screamed for protection and love with every fiber of his being, making Sebastian wonder why he didn’t have someone, beautiful as he was. From time to time, the young Bloom cast a glance to Joraan’s rosy lips, that looked so soft and kissable, wondering what they tasted like. The innocence in those doe-like, kind, green eyes and the shyness in the boy’s voice made Sebastian suspect he was a virgin.
An ugly thought formed in his head, making him smile evilly without being noticed by anyone at the table. What if he would court little Joraan, take his virginity and then ignore him altogether? But a look of those innocent, peaceful eyes made Sebastian lower his gaze, ashamed of himself.
“Thank you for the dinner, it was excellent,” Joraan’s sweet, soft voice got everyone’s attention. I’m a little dizzy, I think I’ll go outside for a breath of fresh air, with your permission, of course,” he turned to his father and Alastair.
“Of course you can,” the two men said, almost at the same time. “You can take Sebastian to keep you company, I’m sure he would get bored here with us old folks,” Alastair smiled, waving his hand.
“I don’t like what your uncle is doing to you,” Joraan whispered once they were in the restaurant’s inner garden. It makes me feel uncomfortable.”
“Oh, but you should be glad!” Sebastian’s sarcastic reply came right away. “You are not lonely at this dinner, having the company of an educated, refined and good looking young man like myself. Relax, darling, you are not the one that’s being pimped out here.”
“You are hurt and you don’t like me, two things your body language gives up instantly, in spite of your efforts of concealing them. I’m a good listener, if you want to speak. I heard your fiancee is dead, I’m sorry about it. Maybe I shouldn’t have...”
“I’m not,” Sebastian cut the redhead short. “Look, you are a totally sweet and innocent kid, shouldn’t waste your time in my company. It’s too late to save my soul from eternal damnation,” he spoke in a much softer voice.
“I think you deserve to be saved,” Joraan offered a melancholic smile, “so I’m willing to give it a try. You see, my father doesn’t know yet, but I was offered a position at the South African Embassy in Washington, and I accepted it, so I’ll be at one call distance if or when you need to talk.”
Sebastian was prepared to offer another sarcastic reply, but the ice block holding his heart captive for the last two years and a half melted instantly, replaced by a pleasant sensation of warmth and fuzziness. He looked better to the redhead in front of him, locking his sapphire-blue eyes with Joraan’s light green.
Beneath the gentle smile, it was the pain caused by the loss of his mother, the vulnerability and uncertainty of a lonely soul, but none of those things were brought into discussion. Instead of talking about himself, the boy plunged deep into Sebastian’s troubled soul, considering it worthy of redeeming and healing. Almost without thinking, the raven-haired teen brushed a strand that fell out of place, covering Joraan’s forehead.
“I’m glad you decided to take that job, but wouldn’t your father be upset about you leaving? I mean, you are his only son, and I saw how he’s looking at you...”
“No, he would be relieved that I have something to keep myself busy with, instead of crying over the loss of my mother. Dad has his work to find solace in, it is me the one he worries about. Putting bad guys behind bars is his way of honoring mom’s memory. She was a criminal psychologist, you know?”
“Wow!” Sebastian’s eyes widened in surprise, because he imagined the redhead’s mother as one of those pretentious socialites, raving about parties and pseudo-charitable activities.”Did she and your father work together?”
“Yes, this is how they met,” Joraan smiled at a distant memory. “My maternal grandparents were the richest people in the country, and when dad found out who the new criminal psychologist was, he wanted to ask to be transferred. However, after a very short while, he was completely subjugated.”
“She must have been a great lady,” Sebastian sighed softly. “I never met mine, she died giving birth to me. Father couldn’t deal with her death, and killed himself one year later. At first, my older brothers and I were raised by one of dad’s uncles, and when he got old, the family council entrusted Uncle Alastair with our guardianship.”
Once the two boys opened up to each other, the confessions started to flow, and, at the end of the evening, they were talking to each other like they have known each other since forever, much to Jaap Van Sloot’s delight. Alastair Stark, on the other hand, was beyond surprised to see his nephew smiling and chatting so relaxed and carefree.
The boy was a total mystery, the US Army Major and CIA agent thought, shaking his head. How could Sebastian enjoy the company of that almost illiterate, bad-mannered guy, that former juvenile convict, was beyond his capacity of understanding. Thankfully, his intervention got the pesky young man out of his nephew’s life for good.
All the way home, Alastair examined Sebastian’s features, waiting for the mask to fall off, revealing the tiredness and disappointment that marred his expression. But it didn’t happen, on the contrary, a weak smile was playing on his full, sensual lips, the dark-blue eyes shining, a dreamy expression on his face.
Once inside the house, Sebastian absently bid his uncle good night, going in his room upstairs. After peeling the clothes off of him, the young Bloom went straight to bed, still smiling. Somehow, the vulnerable Joraan tugged at the right strings of his heart, and he couldn’t get him out of his head. “See you tomorrow, sweet love,” Sebastian thought, before drifting asleep, smiling.
In his room from the luxury hotel suite, the young Van Sloot was laying in bed, dressed for the night, thinking about what Vincent said. Indeed, the dark-haired boy, with his stunning, sapphire-blue eyes, was sad, broken and defeated. His initial bitterness was the result of the years he spent in near seclusion, deprived of love, yearning to be touched by a gentle hand and a kind soul.
Sebastian needed him, even if he didn’t realize yet, just as Joraan needed the other boy. Two solitudes who wanted to be embraced and enjoyed in a noisy world, looking for the hermit who could appreciate the harmony and inner peace they brought. “See you tomorrow, beautiful,” young Van Sloot whispered, then sleep took over him.
“That nephew of yours gone back to his rebellious, depraved ways,” the Duke of Sandrigham bitterly remarked a week later, smelling Sebastian’s cologne in the air and seeing the teenager’s silhouette clad in black leather.
“He’s not rebellious or depraved,” Alastair said in a low, but determined voice. “My nephew is going on a date with the son of Pretoria’s Chief of Police, a fine young man.”
“You know what?” the Duke smiled, looking straight into his husband’s emerald-green eyes. “I wish he was in that car, not Edward.”
“Why do you hate him so much, Your Grace?” This time, Alastair’s voice was pained, his posture one of a defeated man.
“Because this makes you suffer, in spite of the desperate efforts you make to hide it. I want to see how much you can bend without breaking.”
Hands balled into fists, lips tightly pressed, the Duke’s husband left the room, leaving him alone in his massive, sculpted wooden chair.
But none of that was known to Sebastian, who was nervously waiting for Joraan in the hotel’s lobby, a huge flower bouquet in hand. When he finally appeared, young Bloom gasped in awe at the sight. With his white suit and shirt, the shy smile on his pink lips, the boy resembled an angel descended from heaven just for him.
“Hi, I’m sorry you had to wait this long, I should have told you I was runninglate,”Joraan blushed at the sight of Sebastian’s outfit. “You look..hot. Oh, I can’t believe I said that!” he covered his mouth with both hands.
“And you look like an angel, sweet and immaculate, it makes me wonder where your wings are,” the other boy brightly smiled. “Here, these are for you,” he said, giving Joraan the flowers.
“Oh, thank you so much, but you better give them to Miss Nicole,” the redhead blushed a deeper shade of pink. “She’s here on an unexpected visit and insisted on getting to know you,” the redhead started to talk. “Oh, I thought I'd told you about her, she’s...”
“The famous Nicole Novack, your mother’s best friend, yes, you told me about her,” Sebastian smiled, only to panic the next moment. “What?! She’s...”
“Right behind you, dear,” a woman’s voice made young Bloom flinch violently, scaring the hell out of him. “Don’t be so scared, I won’t harm you, unless you treat my godson wrong. Then, I’ll unleash hell on you.”
“Don’t worry, Miss, I would never hurt Joraan, he’s special to me. Over the past week, my dull life brightened thanks to him, he gave me a reason to live.” Sebastian’s words came straight from the heart, and Nicole sensed the sincerity in his voice.
“My dear godson’s heart is in safe hands, I can see that,” she nodded, “you treat him with consideration, even took the effort to choose a beautiful bouquet for him,” the woman eyed the flowers the redhead was holding. “So, what are your plans for today?”
“As usual, a long walk through Central Park, then maybe we grab a bite before heading back to the hotel. Joraan goes to bed pretty early, his body hasn’t completely adjusted to the timezone and all. Besides, he needs to spend some time in the company of Chief Van Sloot, so...”
Nicole nodded, approving the young, but very mature man, her heart warming at the care and attention Sebastian showed to her godson, putting him and his needs first. The boy was an interesting combination of sensibility and military discipline, politeness and distinction, expressiveness and restraint.
Totally opposed to the other American Joraan befriended. That Vincent Grant fellow, Nicole thought, careful not to grimace in front of the boys. He was way older than Joraan, around twenty-two or twenty-three, bulky, with a rough, uncultivated appearance. Her godson didn’t need someone like that in his life, the woman decided from the moment Joraan showed her the picture.
Nicole was determined to do whatever it takes to keep Vincent away from her best friend’s son’s life, but apparently the guy decided to disappear by himself. He was after one thing only, and once Joraan would have given up his innocence, the poor boy wouldn’t have had any value in that man’s eyes.
With Sebastian, however, things were completely different, Nicole could see. Every time the two of them touched each other, a blush would creep up on their faces, and the boys lowered their gaze, smiling apologetically. Somehow, the woman suspected they hadn’t even kissed, because otherwise Joraan would have told her about it.
“You look good together,” she finally said, looking between the two of them, studying their reactions. “Not that it would have any importance, but you have my blessing. You may go, now, I won’t waste anymore of your precious time.”
“Thank you, Miss Nicole, your approval is very important to me, seeing that you are Joraan’s godmother,” Sebastian offered her a bright smile that reached his eyes, making them shine.”
“She likes you very much, the boy I’ve told you about wasn’t that fortunate,” the redhead said in his soft voice about an hour later. The two of them were sitting on a bench under two big, old trees that formed a green canopy above their heads, protecting them from the burning sun.
“Well, I should consider myself fortunate, then,” Sebastian grinned. “In fact, yes, I’m incredibly lucky to have you in my life, sweet love,” he caressed Joraan’s delicate hand with the pad of his thumb.
“How did you just call me?” The redhead’s eyes were widened with surprise, his mouth agape.
“Sweet love,” young Bloom repeated, a gentle expression in his eyes. “I think I’m starting to fall in love with you, Joraan Van Sloot.”
"There's no hope for me, then,” the other boy returned the smile,”my heart is your prisoner and I don’t intend to claim it back very soon.”
The two of them stayed like that, basking in the feeling, overwhelmed by emotions. Two hermits enjoying the solitude in each other, listening to the whispers of the other one’s soul. It was a call that couldn’t be ignored or silenced, and they abandoned themselves to it. Sebastian and Joraan just fell in love with each other, and it was wonderful.