Every Second [COMPLETED]

Chapter 12 - "Can I ask you a question?"

The words tumbled out of Amelia, her mind was buffeted with a storm of memories of her parents, like the snow flakes outside knocked about by the wind. A fond, distant smile played on her lips as she turned to Sebastian, half expecting to see Charlie or Will there, instead of him.

"It's sounds like you had a great father, someone who really knew how to value time with his family," he said.

There was a subtle hint of emotion in his voice that was so small Amelia wondered if she was imagining it.

"Yeah, he was amazing, both my parents were," she said.

"Did your father teach you guitar?"

"Yeah, but he said I started banging things so young that he knew I was going to be a drummer. He said that but every little kid bangs things so why he thought my banging away at pots was different, I'll never know. Anyways, I was already playing the drums well enough by the time he introduced me to the guitar that I had no desire to learn it. Besides he played so beautifully, I would lose focus as he tried to teach me something."

"How'd you end up playing the piano then?" Sebastian asked.

"My mom. She played the piano and wanted me to learn, so I did for her. She was a psychologist, and it was the time I got to spend just with her."

"A guitarist and a psychologist, that's an interesting combo," Sebastian mused.

"Yeah, it did make for an interesting childhood. What about your parents? Were they complete opposites or were they both musicians of some sort like you?" Amelia asked.

Sebastian didn't respond, his silence radiating from him like a stone wall.

"No, they weren't complete opposites," he finally said.

A tense silence settled between them like an unwelcome third member. Amelia realized that that was the only amount of response she was going to get. She finished off her cup of tea and thought about leaving when Sebastian talked again.

"Can I ask you a question?" he said, turning towards her.

"You already have, but you can ask another," Amelia said.

This brought a half smile to his face and the unwelcome third member disappeared.

"What is your and Will's relationship?" he asked. "I thought it was romantic at first. But anyone who's around the two of you longer than a few minutes would obviously realize that's not the case. That and I recall you going on a blind date a week ago, much to your annoyance."

"In the simplest of terms, Will is my brother, best friend and one of the people I would not be the same without."

"I don't mean to pry but care to elaborate?"

Amelia thought about the fact that when she had asked one question about his life he had barely said more than ten words. She wondered if he saw the irony in his own question.

"Sure. Will lost his mother a year before I lost my parents and moved to London to live with my grandparents. When we met we were both working through our own levels of grief. That's what bonded us together. We didn't have to ask questions about how the other person was doing. Instead we could just be there for each other. He helped me make it through high school without being a complete wreck."

"Did you ever date?"

"No. We both needed each other more as a friend to ever think of dating."

Sebastian nodded in understanding.

"Can I ask you a question?" Amelia asked.

"Yes, if it's within reason."

"Why did you come to Juilliard for drum lessons?"

Sebastian was silent more a moment.

"I never went to college," he said. "I was signed right out of high school. When I came to your class it made me curious what it would have been like to go to college." Sebastian bent his head, smiling slightly. "Besides learning the drums is more difficult than writing, so I found it helped me not stress over my music. Not much, but a little."

Amelia nodded. "I'm glad it helped then."

Sebastian looked at her, his expression ponderous.

"Do most people call you Amy or Aims?" he asked. "I know I heard your brother call you Aims but Will calls you Amy."

"Actually Will is the only person to call me Amy. Everyone less calls me Aims."

"How come?"

"Will hadn't known my nickname and so called me Amy because it's naturally the nickname given to people with my name."

"What about Aims? How did you get that one?"

"My father. He said I was always aiming for greater things and so Aims became my nickname. Does everyone call you Bash?"

"Those who know me well enough call me Bash, but everyone else sticks with Sebastian."

"Was Bash always your nickname, even in school?"

"No, they were other less flattering nicknames."

"My worst nickname was Dumbo ears in elementary school."

Sebastian cracked a smile and let out a small chuckle.

"It was because I had large ears, plus the connection with Amelia Airhart and flying."

Sebastian glanced over at her and Amelia instinctively placed a protective hand over her ears. He laughed.

"Sorry. My names weren't as bad as that," he said. "My sister called me Bear. With other people it was a toss up between Sebby and Crabby, for the crab from the Little Mermaid."

"Sebby isn't bad."

Sebastian looked at her with a doubtful expression.

"Okay. So maybe it is pretty bad," she said.

Sebastian wore a half smile and shrugged unconcerned. They lapsed into a comfortable silence, thoughts of years long since past settling on both their minds.

When Amelia felt her head bending to meet the arm of the chair, and her eyes drooping with sleep, she pulled herself up.

"Night Sebastian."

He looked up startled as if he forgot she had been there the whole time.

"Goodnight Amelia, sleep well," he said, his voice somber.

"You too."

She left him sitting in the living room. As she turned back one more time, she caught a glimpse at his face, his expression a mask of troubled thoughts.

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Hi!

What is a nickname of your's? What is the worst nickname you have ever had? I don't have a lot of nicknames because my name is so short. My sister calls my JoyJoyFace, because I call her Gracie Face (It rhymes, so mine makes sense, her's does not). I had a friend who called me lumberjack, mostly because I was stronger than him. That was probably the worst.

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