peachy-panic:

Day Two

BACK TO THE REGULARLY SCHEDULED CLINIC ARC. Sorry (Not Sorry) for the brief very dark interlude. 

Continuesfrom here.

WARNINGS: Discussions of addiction/forced drugging, BBU/BBU-adjacent and all that comes with that, issues with food

Jaime is noticeably distant the next morning. From the moment he is brought into the clinic, he has taken to his tasks in complete silence, the walls behind his averted eyes slammed shut. 

So, maybe Sebastian isn’t the only one who’s been thinking about Smith’s little revelation at the end of yesterday’s shift. 

Sebastian goes through about twenty different—increasingly disastrous—iterations of a conversation in his head as the morning goes on, trying to determine if bringing it up again will clear the air between them or only serve to push Jaime further into his… embarrassment or shame or whatever it is that has made him retreat. 

Or maybe Jaime’s mood has nothing to do with him at all. Maybe Sebastian isn’t the center of the fucking universe, and maybe, just maybe, there are bigger fish to fry when your whole entire world is condensed to the confines of this god-awful place. 

So he tries to ignore it for a little while. Give him some space. 

And then he can’t do that anymore. 

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