While Sebastian stayed away, doing nothing to assist, what he called "nothing" was actually something far from it.
As he sat on the chair, his eyes fixed on no particular spot, his thoughts wandered uncontrollably.
Once again, their lips had grazed.
His eyes had locked into Dylan's, and just like he had imagined before, it felt sweet, and addictive. He had wanted more in that fleeting moment, a little longer, a little deeper, but he knew he shouldn't want more. Even if he wanted to explore his sexuality, it shouldn't be with his stepbrother, and certainly not under his father's roof.
It made Sebastian wonder, not for the first time, how his father could seem so accepting of Dylan being gay at home, yet wear such disapproving, almost disgusted expressions back at church and others. The contradiction unsettled him.
"So, you aren't even going to assist me?" Dylan's voice cut through his thoughts as he glanced over at Sebastian, who still sat comfortably on the chair.
