WELCOME TO THE UNIVERSE

damon-s-doll:

a/n: ok we know seb lived in paris but never got specifics soooo i had an ideaaaaaa…maybe part 2? yes? no? anyone?

“You guys didn’t have to come with me.” you huff back at the gang following you, angrily stomping through the posh hallways of Dalton Academy. “He is my boyfriend… and you hate him… Why did you come actually?” you wonder, crinkling your eyebrows together, pulling both your backpack straps to the waistband of your ripped sky blue jeans.

Santana scoffs, crossing her tan arms over her cheerio’s uniform. “Uh, duh, I wanna see what happened to the mole faced chipmunk.” she states as if it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. You roll your eyes, sighing deeply.

While holding Rachel’s hand, Finn tilts his head in confusion; Sam does the same, wondering the exact same question on everyone’s mind. “What exactly happened to him again?” the blonde asks, fixing his purple hoodie on his shoulder. “All I saw was you get a call and leave rehearsal…. Then everyone followed you and I got lost… I’m still lost.”

You bound around the corner, stopping when you get to the door that says ‘nurse’. Spinning on the heel of your sneaker, you fix your pink shoulderless shirt. “He was in lacrosse practice and hit his head and passed out, okay?” you rush out, inhaling deep. “And can I please see him alone before you all parade in?” you plead, hands returning to the straps of your backpack.

When most of the club nods, you let out a breath, facing the door. Turning the knob, you cautiously step in the office. “I’m Y/N, Sebastian’s…” you trail off as the nurse leads you to the cots. “How is he?” you chew on your lip nervously.

“Non! Non!” Sebastian’s voice lingers in the room, French accent a lot more noticeable. “Retire tes mains de moi (get your hands off me)! Ou est ma petite amie (where is my girlfriend)?!” he spits at Trent, who’s trying to coax the Warbler back into the cot, muttering ‘why are you not speaking English?’. “Je ne sais pas bon anglais (I don’t know good english)!” he bites in a frustrated tone, running a hand through his hair.

You furrow your eyebrows together, pushing the curtain. His knuckles curl around the edge of the cot, shoulders almost touching his ears. The moment Sebastian sees you, his green eyes light up, smile stretching on his lips. “Mon bébé, là tu es (my baby, there you are)!” he beams, standing up; navy lacrosse jersey hanging off his shoulder. You blink in confusion. “Ne me comprends-tu pas (do you not understand me)?” he whispers, eyes filling with water.

Frowning, you bend down in front of him, cupping his face. “Sebastian… Je t'aime (I love you)…” you hum, saying the only French you really know.

He grins, “Je t’aime, Y/N.” The knock on the door startles him and the glee club enters. “Pourquoi sont-ils ici (why are they here)?” he snarls, nose scrunching at the gang. “Quelle (what)?”

“Why is he speaking French?” Mercedes whispers to Kurt, who shrugs.

Sighing, you card your hand through his uncharastically messy hair, shaking your head. “French is his first language. He only learned English two years ago, before he came to Dalton.” you frown, eyes searching his face. “When we started dating, he was still learning.” you explain, “He must’ve hit his head really hard…” you cringe, pulling your beanie down.

“So, what’re we gonna do?” Artie pipes up, pushing his glasses to his nose.

Sebastian tugs on your hand, pouting. “Regarde, je ne comprends pas ce que tu dis mais (look, I don’t understand what you’re saying but)…” he pauses, licking his lips. “Je meurs de faim, pouvons-nous manger (I’m starving, can we eat)?”

You shrug your shoulders, squinting your eyes. “I think he’s hungry? Help me take him to Breadstix?”

(Source: soft-boy-stefan)