It hadn’t been long that Sebastian obtained the job of working for the nationally known Blaine Anderson, star of the stage. Sebastian never even thought working as a damn personal assistant would be something he would ever end up doing. Being somewhere in the showbiz scene for sure, but this was a different turn. Hell, he should have his OWN personal assistants. But yet, he couldn’t deny the offer when he thought about being by Blaine’s side all the time. The superstar was hot, and that was not something Sebastian had the strength to deny. So far – the main realization he’s made is that Blaine has a definite…FLARE in him. He demands what he wants when he wants it and there’s no leeway. It was something that made a silenced rage grow in Sebastian yet it was all for some reason a bit intriguing.
Stepping into Blaine’s dressing room, Sebastian has a coffee in one hand and a flashy costume in the other. One with lots of leather and swarovski crystals. Blaine was doing a runway for one of the biggest designers around and he’d also be the performing act for the event. All he had to hope for now was that Blaine would take the news easily; The news that they wanted him to switch what he was wearing. There were many times Sebastian wanted to snap at the diva, but he wanted to keep this job so badly. ❝I have your coffee. Now THIS is your new costume. The designer wants you to switch before you come out and perform. Personally, I find this one to be hotter.❞
Blaine is secretly exhausted. Or not so secretly. Considering his mood gets worse the more tired he is and it’s measurable by the amount of attitude he dishes out to those around him. From tacking on as many add-this-subtract-that notes that can fit on the side of a Starbucks cup. To demanding everyone give him peace and quite for fifteen minutes, please?! No matter how many times he sends his assistant out to fetch coffee as fast as he can drink it–nothing is working. All he wants to do is finish this show and go back to the hotel so he can pass out until tomorrow. But there’s an after party he’s due at after the press junket which means tonight–that blended over from last night’s concert–is only a third of the way through.
A groan splits his lips open and hits his palm as he rubs the bridge of his nose. From where he’s slouched in his chair, booted feet kicked up on the vanity and crossed over one another–he snaps his head in the direction of the door opening. “Fifteen minutes! I said–oh,” he pauses when it’s Sebastian, “Good. It’s you.” Woah. Ignore the coffee–what the hell was in his other hand? Narrowing eyes burn a slow stare up Sebastian’s arm as he waits for an explanation. Once he receives it–there goes the eyebrow. “Well. Um. No,” his lips form a perfect circle but he’s unable to look away from the monstrosity hanging from Sebastian’s arm. “Tell her if she wants to wear that? She can wear it herself.” The get up looks like someone had a seizure while holding onto a bedazzler and clutching the latest fashions from the bin of a Goodwill discount store. It’s not going on his body. “Or you can if you think that’s hot. Which makes me question every time in the past you’ve told me I look good wearing something because that horror show? No. Not happening.” No. Way.
pianokeysandbowties back up 