oh so charming || Caletian (Private)

Sebastian Fey Williams was an angry little imp of a teenager. Sure, everyone around camp was at one point or another, but Fey really took it to a whole other level. Part of his anger, yes, could be contributed to the fact that he had what others might consider “Mommy Issues”, due to the fact that she had died when he was barely ten, but it was other things. Things like annoying half-sibings, not enough time in the bathroom in the mornings, and defiantly not enough sleep as he would like to get. A typical child of Morpheus, Fey adored sleep, almost worshiped it, and so when he was rudely awaken by a couple of nine year olds jumping on his bed, yelling and screaming in joy and delight as they did so, he was frankly pissed off. Now, Bas couldn’t just punch them like he would a person closer to his own age. There would be consequences which he wouldn’t want to do like kitchen duty and cleaning out the horse stables and whatnot. Fey wasn’t really into working, just like most of his siblings. They were more dreamers then doers, which is why most of them didn’t become CEO’s of big companies. Basil thought the ideal job was one where you could get paid to sleep, but working at a movie theatre was fine too because you could just slip into the back of a movie and sleep there, it was dark enough after all. So he took the nine year olds by the ears and shoved them outside the cabin door, locking it securely before stomping back to his bed, a metaphorical dark raincloud above his head, signifying the anger and distaste he felt towards kids. Sebastian felt Lego, his very old and trustworthy cat, slipped under his arm and laid his head under Seb’s chest. If Basil could close his eyes for just a moment and concentrated very hard, he could almost imagine him being home with his mother in San Francisco.

However, no matter how much effort he put into sleeping, Fey just couldn’t manage it. So after about five minutes of tossing and turning and about a minute of Lego scrambling to get out of the bed and go lay in his basket, Sebastian got up out of bed for the second time that morning and got dressed. He didn’t actually even look  at what he put on because he didn’t actually care. He wasn’t trying to impress anyone, and even if he was he wouldn’t try that hard. Bas slipped on some converse and went out the door, not surprised to see that the kids who had woken him up earlier had fled, either out of fear or borden or a little bit of both. Still, Sebby was fuming about the whole ordeal, and he probably did as he held grudges. As he went outside, he realised that this was the first time in what seemed like a year that he’d actually gone outside his cabin for something other than food. Fey skipped classes and was an antisocial git, so there really was no one to visit or do anything with, not that he minded in the slightest. It was better to be alone and it was far better to be feared than loved. Seb didn’t always think this way, of course, as there was a time where he loved truly and fully and deeply with no regret. That was before his mother died and his world shattered around him, and the demigod was afraid of heartbreak. It was understandable, being ten years old and alone, with no home to call your own. But Fey wouldn’t talk to anybody nowadays because he was afraid of attachment, and ever since he’d been at his mothers grave all those years ago, putting down a bouquet of lilies because those were her favourites, Sebastian swore to himself he’d never love another person so long as he survived on this earth. 

The boy walked down to the lake, as it had always calmed him down in the past and had still done so today. Water was so liquid and ever moving that it made Sebby want to be like it. Sometimes he did get tired of being angry and hateful with no friends, and so the water lapping against his shoes made every tense muscle loosen and allowed him to relax. He was almost there, almost to complete and total aloneness where he could breathe in the fresh air he’d never gotten on a regular basis. However, before he could do that, he had run into a person and fell on the ground. 

As an only child, Fey never had to worry about sharing or saying sorry. He never had to take care of a little sibling or be belittled by an older one. He was selfish because of it. Of course, Julia had always stated that after Fey was born he was the most perfect child and she didn’t want another. Sebastian saw it as his mother A) Had too much to do with both him and the string of hotels she ran, B) Didn’t want another kid because Sebby was such a mystery and somewhat of a burden on her or C) A little bit of both. But even if he was a burden on his mother, Bas knew he was loved. He also knew that he loved his mother, and how couldn’t he? She was always kind to him, always did whatever he wanted, and so yes of course Fey was going to be a spoiled and selfish child. That being said, Fey did not like people telling him off for anything, even if it was his fault. Sebastian got told off a lot, as he didn’t pull his weight around camp, and his what-could’ve-been-friends always told him that he had a good work ethic, and if he would just get off his ass and clean or do some work around camp that he could make a name for himself both around the grounds and in the world. Sebastian scoffed and would usually head back into his room, where he and Lego would sit and brood about how sucky the world was in silence and darkness, watching shadows creep onto his face like the grim reaper. “Well you see I would, but I wasn’t facing you and I don’t exactly have eyes in the back of my head, dumbass.” Fey growled under his breath as he patted himself down, making sure there wasn’t any rips or tears in his clothes. He may not have cared what kind of clothes he wore, but he did care about what state they were in. While Fey did this, he noticed what he’d slipped on this morning. A soft grey cotton tee with an edgy leather jacket and dark jeans. His converse, naturally, were black. Luckily everything, though a little dirty, was unharmed. 

Sebastian didn’t like to be threatened. It made him feel small and weak, and he was anything but. He’d survived the ordeal of his mother dying and him being useless to stop it. He had survived the years in the foster system where he got called a freak because no one wanted him. Being threatened brought bad, repressed memories to Bas that he would rather forget than remember. So when this boy, this little inking of a boy (with fantastic abs, but Seb didn’t even notice because he wasn’t looking, oh no), threatened him by punching him in the face, well, Sebby didn’t take too kindly to that. He was just going to walk away, be a good citizen of this damned camp. There would still be anger in his heart, yes, but he could deal with that in his own way by swimming and skipping rocks. That was the plan, Fey had decided, until then. There was always going to be a little part of his heart that would forever be his five year old self who still loved little Suzette and wore bright blues and yellows everyday to school, and that loathed violence. Wherever that tiny sliver was, if it was even big enough to shine through the cloudy darkness of Fey’s heart, it wasn’t showing now. The demigod took that as a sign that it was okay to punch this kid in the face, right in the jaw. He was sure there’d be consequences, either getting into a fight or dishes duty, but right now he didn’t really care. There was only anger, raw, pure anger that needed to be reduced.

“My… my name?” Sebastian asks, furious as he touches his left eye. It hurts, more than his hand does, but Fey has punched enough people in his lifetime to get used to that kind of stinging. In the foster care system, the demigod was known for sleeping in and picking fights, a rebel, basically. This kid in front of him has some nerve telling him to get glasses. But maybe Fey was wrong, the whole running into each other was just a blur of fast colour, shouts, and pain. And Bas had never really been one to notice details, and he’d always been somewhat of a dreamer, so it could have been his fault just as easily as it could have been the other boy. Not that Sebby was ever going to admit that, he was too proud and stubborn and arrogant to even consider the possibility. Even so, he decided to not retort anything about that remark, because it would just end in the possibly of another ring of black around the circle of deep blue and Fey really didn’t have a high tolerance for pain. As it was, he was fighting back a scream of pain, but he wasn’t going to let his foe know the discomfort he had rained down upon him. “You punched me, knocked me down, and called me an asshole and you want to know my name? Sorry pal, that isn’t how it works. See, here’s a tip; usually if I get punched, I don’t divulge into friendly conversation. And you, my friend, don’t deserve to know my name.” Sebastian snarled as he continued to probe around his eye. He suspected it had already started to bruise, and even though he could easily eat ambrosia and swallow some nectar to get rid of the pain and the ugliness that would show, Fey decided not to risk it. He was running low already, and the kids at the infirmary were getting annoyed of him always going to get more when their supplies were pretty low to begin with. A lot more campers were getting hurt these days, sometimes because of Bas, sometimes not because of Bas. 

He wondered why the boy had stayed and not walked off like most would have. He was pretty sure it wasn’t because the boy liked his face. Basil had a pretty face, and he could have easily made money being a model or something if not for his lazy attitude and complete disregard for the rules. Plus, working just wasn’t his thing, you could see it by the careless way he slumped on the couch in his cabin, or the messiness of his dark brown hair that he had long since quit trying to tame. Fey’s hair was a dark tangle of a lion’s mane, and it was almost impossible to tame. Only Julia, with her hair products and patience and time for her only son, could get the random strands to stick down. With her gone, however, Sebastian stopped caring about what he looked like. Who was he trying to impress? Certainly not this guy, with his neon orange shoes and sports clothing on. Fey and him could never be friends, not just because of the whole You-ran-into-me-and-now-I-hate-you-asshole thing, but because even with 5 minutes of talking, Fey could see that their personalities were just too different. There would be more than one fight, and Sebby didn’t like constant fighting. He watched as the boy sat on the ground and Fey did the same thing. He was tired of standing. 

Fey wondered why the boy was still there talking to him in the late morning sun. He could tell that the other one was irritated and probably hated Fey’s guts for punching him in the jaw. In all honestly, that jaw was pretty damn hard, and on top of a tender black eye, his hand was going to be blessed with purple and black spots that felt like hell when touched by a moth’s wing. It was weird that neither of them wanted ice, but Sebastian was just being stubborn. He couldn’t deny that he felt a connection with this person who had punched him and probably cursed him a thousand times over under his breath, and he really didn’t want to leave him. Fey was not a person to be making attachments, and after his mother died all of his relationships came to a sudden, shuddering halt and ever since then he hadn’t had a friend in the world. It was curious that of all people to be talking too, it had to be this person, with a jaw like rock and an attitude like that of a battle hardened warrior. “I'm not mad, I'm surprised. Usually I don’t get punched by another person after I punch them, most of them just run away crying.” Sebastian said, swirling his fingers into the sand all around him, making strange patterns that either he’d seen in dreams or meant nothing at all. “You’re like the first person to fight back.” He admitted, not making eye contact with the boy, even though he felt the cold stare on his. It was weird, being stared at, and Fey didn’t understand why the other boy was doing it. It couldn’t have been because he was attractive or anything, because usually after a big fight people didn’t find their foe pretty or handsome. And, in Fey’s mind, he wasn’t attractive. His nose was too big and his eyebrows were too busy and close knit, as if they were permanently disappointed. 

“If you don’t get ice, it’s gonna hurt more, it’s simple medicine.” Sebastian pointed out as the boy laughed. That almost brought a smile to the demigods face. The child inside the monster liked to make people happy and smile and have fun, although that part of him almost never showed. He didn’t understand what made this boy so special. Fey covered his black eye, pressing on it lightly to keep it from throbbing. His hands, unfortunately, were covered in sand, and he’d forgotten to wipe it off on his jeans. So now, on top of his eyeball black and swollen and throbbing, it was also stinging in pain from the grains of gravel he had pushed in there. He didn’t shout out in pain about that, either. Fey hardly showed any emotion anymore expect for anger, and pain wasn’t a subcategory of fury. Sebastian rubbed his eye, thankfully clearing any debris from his cornea. “No, I’ve got my own icy heart to numb the pain, thanks though.” Fey replied, half-smiling at the other boy’s joke.

Fey looked at Cale, actually looked at him. His gaze wavered over the boy’s face, trying to decide if he was serious about hitting everyone he got into a fight with. “Dude, really? Hitting girls? That’s low, even for me, and I once punched a kid in a wheelchair who had a severe case of autism.” That wasn’t really something Sebastian wanted to get into, because truth be told he was quite embarrassed about that story. It was 4th grade, and the boy (if Fey recalled correctly, his name was Gerald Crane) made fun of the demigods inability to read and write as well as the others. The insult didn’t make much sense, as Gerald could barely use the toilet by himself, let alone be the most literate child in class, but Fey still took it to heart and beat him up, which ended up in Sebastian spending the rest of the afternoon in the principals office, along with long lectures at home from his mother. Even bad memories about his mom still hurt the young demigod, who longed for her to be there, if only to scold him for the piss poor choices he had made with his life. 

Fey smiled again, blushing a deep red that made his tan face even more colourful than usual. Cale wouldn’t stop staring at him, which was fine, because Sebastian was starting to stare at the other boy. There was something attractive about Cale, and it wasn’t the arrogant asshole attitude, though that was certainly a turn on for Fey. It was probably the hair or the eyes, as the demigod always had a weak spot for those two things. He cleared his throat before speaking so he didn’t sound like a pre-pubesent girl. “Wonder what she did to warrant one of your famous punches?” Fey touched his eye again, wincing only slightly. If he focused on talking and staring at Cale, the pain wasn’t so bad. “Maybe it is,” He laughed. “Maybe it isn’t. You’ll never know. The kid was kind of an asshole, like bigger than you.” Fey saw Cale smile, and it was probably the most wonderful thing in existence, and it made Sebastian giddy with delight. Sadly, it turned into a smirk, which was still cute to Sebastian, but not as much. Fey smiled back, reasons unknown. 

This sleepy demigod had never been much of a leader. When they did group projects at school, Fey would usually sit back and pull a hoodie over his head, listening to ACDC and sleeping while the other students did all the work, and the boy at the last minute would put his name on the keynote so he’d get an A. The others didn’t mind, as Sebastian was extremely popular, and if they did, they kept their mouths shut because he could make their lives a living hell if they said anything. But in this case, where both boys just stared at each other and nothing happening between them when there was so obviously a spark, Fey had to make the first move. So, with all the courage he could muster (which was quite a lot, actually), Sebastian leaned forward and kissed Cale on the lips, eyes closed and hands knotted in the sand. He knew he was a great kisser, many girls had told him so, and it wasn’t that differently kissing a boy.