Seb and Reggie Conversation
The boy glanced only slightly at the taller form at the door. Then he returned his eyes to the television screen. He clenched his hands together to keep them from shaking. “What are you doing here?”
Reginald frowned. “Mom wants to talk to you. You’re late to the dinner, the guests have all arrived and—” He paused when Sebastian kept himself rigid, staring at the screen. “…what’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing.” Sebastian leapt to his feet. The way he moved made him look as though a crazed puppeteer was handling his strings. He was rigid and distressed, and he hastily looked for his jacket. “Mom, you said? Where is she?”
“Wait, slow down,” Reginald frowned and grabbed his arm. “What’s wrong with you? You’re all pale in the face.”
“I’m—I have to leave. Leave me alone.” Sebastian was looking around for his watch. His hands moved like someone frantic but his face was a solid, pale mask that didn’t move—but those eyes belied panic.
Reginald held him fast and glared, and Sebastian swatted him off, sweeping into his closet. The younger boy’s hands were shaking again, now that they clasped nothing. “She’s with the guests—Sebastian, stand still!”
“I want to wear something black,” came the reply from the closet.
Mystified, Reginald looked to the television, where Sebastian had been staring. What he saw was a news report, blatting on in French. Apparently, a young and famous American actor had died following a fire in his school. News was still coming in. But apart from that--
Sebastian swept out of the closet in impeccable, fashionable black—it contrasted so sharply with his paleness. “Have you seen—no, of course you haven’t, you’re never here, why are you even in my room? Get out, Reggie.” He was rifling through his drawers for something now, and things were flying out.
“No, not until you tell me why you look as though someone—” Reginald paused. He looked at the screen and back again.
The door creaked open again. A small form peered in. “Reggie, Seb, dad’s getting mad. You’re supposed to be downstairs.”
“I would be if Reggie would just get /out of my room/ and stop talking to me!” Sebastian snarled shakily under his breath before snatching up what looked like a key around a chain.
The television blabbed on.
“Al, go back downstairs, tell them we’re coming,” Reginald told the boy. Alphonse stared at his two brothers and left.
Reginald took a glance at the screen that Sebastian was now refusing to look at and then strode to his brother who was slipping on the jacket. “I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you, but you better pull it together—”
“I am so pulled together that I can barely move!” Sebastian hissed as he pushed past his brother.
“Sebastian!” Reginald grabbed his wrist. His brother’s hands were cold as ice and shaking like he was feverish. “Sebastian, listen to me!”
“What do you want from me?!”
“He’s not dead!”
The younger man stopped and stared. “...what?”
“He’s not dead, understand?!” Reginald snapped, looking angry. “Look!” He gestured to the screen, but Sebastian’s eyes didn’t leave him. Reginald grabbed his brother’s shoulders, frowning. “He’s not dead. It’s right there. Someone died, but it’s not him. He’s hospitalized.”
Sebastian stared at him. Still frowning, the older brother gestured again. “Look. Would you just look?!”
Sebastian slowly looked at the screen. There wasn’t much to see. Just a lot of words. Short scenes. Newscasters talking. The shaking in his hands was still there, even when he looked away after a moment.
“Now,” Reginald said, releasing his grip, frowning. “Would you like to tell me why you’re being such a—”
“I have to go downstairs.” Sebastian pushed past him again and swept out the door without another word.
Reginald snarled under his breath, grabbed the remote and clicked the TV off before he followed.
Facts About Reginald
Age in Canon: 22/23
Age in 2015: 26/27