SEBASTIAN MORAN:

❛ onemansinsanity-onecatsreality

  sebastian is fortunate. nervous, blatantly     ( swallowing against what
  feels like a swollen throat, wiping his brow,        changing into three different
  shirts in a span of a single hour ), but fortunate.       his boyfriend, chester, is
  away for an hour or two ― a new piano student’s parents made the request
  that the lessons take place in their house,                   just for safety reasons
  ( understandable, of course, and completely doable ).    around four o’clock,
  sebastian kissed his boyfriend’s cheek and wished him well…      and, when
  he was gone, he set to work.   he’s been working for those entire two hours
  now, scrambling, cleaning,    setting up music and covering most of the flat
  with artificial candles. d i m m i n g the lights, sebastian frantically bounces
  to the kitchen and                                      finishes the meal he has prepared.

  is everything perfect? well, to put it MILDLY.   the former sniper,
  so precise with his marksmanship, is just as precise in arrangements,  in
  place settings and smells. everything is vacuumed.         their bedsheets,
  freshly washed.   and who knows how many youtube videos he watched
  and ACTUAL chefs he called ( thank god for friends of friends )  before
  he finally got the hang of broiled swordfish à la niçoise: chester’s favorite
  dish. it took a few tries, and a lot of test runs, but, at last,  the meal waits
  on the dining room table against a                       b e a u t i f u l tablecloth.

  the flat smells incredible.            though the scents may not perfectly
  match the meal, they certainly fit in with the men and their routines,       their
  lives. of course sebastian chose scents of wine descent ―      sparkling pear
  riesling, wine cellar, sundrenched vineyard…   and god, he’s already pouring
  himself a glass of merlot to satiate his palate. chester will arrive any minute
  now. any second,                                and sebastian can’t take it any longer.

           he’s going to propose tonight.

      WHILST CHESTER LEWIS WAS NOT IN CONTENTION to engendering house calls around the metropolis it was more scanty than NOT for the Cheshire to instruct youngster in keep of their intimate quarters. He has come to descry that those whom sought after his tutelage often did NOT inherent befitting clavier ( clavichord, spinet, concert piano ) ; call it sheer happenstance if he was to be COMMISSIONED by family with a grand piano on hand. Qualms are not to be annexed as it was inessential to fret over a location he’d inhabit for only a couple of hours a week ( periodically if he was played in palm of lady luck ). If ANYTHING he is beholden for contingency to earn a little more on the side of his & Sebastian’s emoluments. He figures that perhaps he’ll dote on his boyfriend with luxurious furnishings he merits.

        It’s an anticipation that lodges itself to CROOK of his consciousnesses all amid lecturing new trainee over correct ways to read music & apply it to performing on what he’s surmised to be the most eloquent, transcendent of percussion instruments, if NOT all. Upon fluke was cynosure that of handsome, TOWERING character in contrariety to where his ABSORPTION should be ( but hell - what HARM was to emerge from UNINTENTIONAL  slipping of digits to compose melody of Intermezzo, Op. 116, No. 4 in an individuating modulation & key? ). With eventual corrections established & accompaniment endowing the ATMOSPHERE with roused enthusiasm, the COUPLE of hours glide on by & he’s soon adulating parent’s for their solicitation into their quarters with clasped hands, well worn GRINS, & swift exodus.

        It only takes him SMATTERING matter of minutes for CHESTER LEWIS to arrive back at his flat but before treads USHER him through avenue feline perceptibly acquiesce something’s - off. Not bad, not that he can distinguish whilst on side of egress, just different. Eagerness compels expeditious admission into ABODE but as ogling diverts otherwhere for fraction of a second he is at first UNIFORMED of ambiance.

                                                                                          Then - it hits HIM.

          Bouquet of poignant, luscious penchants inveigle insight to hours of METICULOUS commitment to reconstruct CONTEMPORARY aesthetics into passionate residence exclusive to the only entities in all THEIR universe. He takes note of gingerly appointed ersatz lighting, paving way for bashful smile to scamper cross facets ( always would it be REASSURING to ascertain that their disagreements - far & few in between - faded away after allotted time ). So bewildered does he become that ill is he to regard how long he’s LINGERED in gasping astonishment in doorway, messenger bag still slung over shoulder.

                                         ‘ Sebastian. ‘