Holiday Blues (Seb)

[Cee Cohen]

Cee was back to his work. This was no surprise to anyone. He had papers to grade and projects to evaluate and computers to fix and, well.

Not much of a home life.

So despite the fact that it was a Saturday, he was currently sitting in the school computer lab, a dismantled computer in front of him, a pair of glasses on the bridge of his nose, and various parts scattered around for easy access. And by easy, I mean a blindly fumbling hand until discerning fingers eventually determined what the material was he was grasping. When Cee was working, he never took his eyes away from the goal.

Cee was not a huge fan of the holidays. Once this had not been the case. He still quite enjoyed bankrupting himself to outfit all of the Hammel staff with presents--he still wanted something for Sean, he just hadn't figured it out yet--but aside from the presents-for-other-people aspect, the holidays (especially Thanksgiving) tended to make him feel... well, lonely.

There was always Jack, of course. But Jack seemed to be more busy this year. And while he enjoyed Ferris's company and would definitely love any food he made for the holidays, when it came to having him over for Thanksgiving, Cee thought that Ferris would sooner have a heart attack. And probably would, considering Cee's clumsiness. He didn't have the funds nor the motivation to fly back to California and gently be prodded by his mother on why her brilliant computer and software engineer wasn't using that degree he'd gotten. And Anna was...

Anyways. Computers were easy. Computers were straightforward and fun and you didn't have to worry about them. Nope.

He glanced up as the door opened and peered slightly, then smiled.

"Sebastian! How can I be of assistance?"

[Sebastian Bolstad]

Sebastian had sent off the letter to his parents yesterday, and he had been shaking pretty much the entire way to drop it off into the post box. He hadn't had any contact with his folks since he had arrived at Hammel, partly because he hadn't been too sure how to contact them and partly because he was deeply afraid about how they might respond. They had hardly parted with loving embraces, and whilst Sebastian still tried to keep his hopes high that they would eventually welcome him back with open arms, there was a part of him that highly doubted it.

No letter had been waiting for him this morning, which he had rather expected but it still took a little of the wind out of his sails. Getting a reply the very next day would have been a long shot at best. Maybe they were gathering up some nice things to send him in a parcel, like some of the other children got from their parents sometimes. That had to be it. He had crossed the bridge by getting in touch with them, of course they were going to reply. They were his parents and they had been given some time now to come to terms with the fact their son was a freak. Surely they would get back in touch soon, and then maybe he could go back home.

Sebastian had been halfway through his English paper when the words had begun to fade, each letter getting fainter and fainter until each thack of the keys produced no visual effect on the paper. With a frustrated sigh he had hauled the typewriter into its case, hauling it to the computer classroom where he hoped to see a familiar face; even though he doubted it because there were no classes on a Saturday. Likely it would be the rude man again.

After knocking softly on the door Sebastian peered inside, the slightly worried frown being replaced with a soft smile as he realised it was Mr Cohen in the classroom. Letting himself in, Sebastian heaved the typewriter onto an empty desk. “Hello Mr Cohen. I am sorry to bother you, I hope I am not interrupting anything important. I think the ink has run out, maybe.” Sebastian hesitated for a moment, wondering if that was indeed what could be wrong with it. “When I press the things, no letters appear on the paper any more.”

[Cee Cohen]

"Mmm." Cee looked down at his computer. It was disassembled completely. The fan needed the casing back on it, the motherboard was attached precariously by a few wires, the CPU was completely fried. He had to come up with some other place to put the computers that weren't the ground or the desks--both of which easily sucked up lint. There had to be another way. He just hadn't figured it out yet. Hm. But he debated how much of this really needed to be done right now and decided none of it. He did this a lot. No harm of putting it aside for a little bit, right? He pushed the mass of disassembled parts aside and smiled at Sebastian.

"No, not in the least, Sebastian. And I always enjoy seeing you. In truth, I was expecting you earlier. Typewriters can be a little, um, glitch-y at times and I was concerned you would have difficulties with it, especially if you hadn't ever... anyways, I am glad to see you." He waved it away and pulled the typewriter toward him, humming happily. "I always forget how heavy these items can be. Let's see now."

He examined the parts, then glanced up. "Yes, I think it's just requiring a new ribbon. It might take me a while to dig one up." And with that, Cee slid out of his seat and bent to begin rummaging through the doors. After a moment, his head with his hair sticking up all over the place popped up.

"So how are you settling in? Any better?"

[Sebastian Bolstad]

The computer that the teacher had been working on looked rather sick and Sebastian eyed it warily. He had heard some of the other students talking about these things sometimes getting viruses and he wondered if that was what had happened here; it certainly didn't look healthy at all with all its innards out everywhere like that. Perhaps Mr Cohen acted like a doctor for them when they got sick, and that thought caused a smile to pull at the corner of Sebastian's lips. With his manic hair and very enthusiastic personality it was amusing to think of the teacher trying to play the roll of a doctor.

Mr Cohen's bright greeting caused the smile on Seb's lips to brighten noticeably; a very rare sight on his features. He tucked a long strand of hair behind his ear, internally frowning when he noticed the ratty-feeling ends. He would have to find a way to get it trimmed at some point soon. “I am very happy to see you too, Mr Cohen. I had a small problem with it a while ago, but you were not here when I came. I met your assistant instead...” Sebastian hesitated for a moment before adding “He was very helpful.” Even to his ears he could hear the slight note of distaste in his voice.

When the teacher confirmed that Sebastian's suspicion about the typewriter was correct he smiled again, clearly somewhat proud of himself for being able to work it out. Perhaps he wasn't so bad with them after all. The blonde took a seat on one of the chairs nearby as Mr Cohen began rummaging, chuckling softly with his mouth behind his hand as his messy head popped back up. “I think I am settling in a little better, thank you for asking. I went on the camping trip a little while ago. That was a very... different experience. Have you been well?”

[Cee Cohen]

It was always good to see the boy smile. Cee suspected that he didn't do it all that often. Which was sad, because he did deserve to smile, even if his arrival here hadn't been at all conventional. Especially since his arrival here had gone so poorly before. Cee had looked up his file after the boy had gone--although this wasn't something he would've admitted aloud--and had been surprised and alarmed at what he had found. How could any family just...? But he doubted he would ever understand some people. They could be so incredibly petty at times. He blinked at his statement. "I wasn't here?" He was almost ALWAYS there. But then, he supposed he might've been taking time off. Or sleeping. Or relaxing. Who knew?

"My assistant?" More pauses. "Oh, you must be referring to Wynn. You spoke to him?" He stared at him, obviously dismayed. "Oh dear." He liked Wynn. Cee liked most people. But he wasn't sure Wynn had any experience with typewriters--something that he would need to fix. "And how much was he of... assistance?"

"Oh, yes, quite well! I'm back in therapy." Cee smiled at him and ducked back behind the desk to get back to searching. He'd kept the ribbons somewhere. Cee didn't do well at throwing things out. But eventually he found it and popped back up. "Here you are! Were you at the camping trip? I was as well! I did very poorly on the obstacle course." And he'd wound up with a lot of bruises, but okay other than that. "Here we are. A ribbon for you. Are you seeing your family for the holidays?"

[Sebastian Bolstad]

“I am not sure where you were at the time. Perhaps you were having a break and I just missed you.” The first time the typewriter had broken Seb had of course gone looking for the computing teacher; it made sense to go to the person who had loaned it to him after all. Besides, Sebastian felt an odd fondness for the teacher that he could never have been able to predict. The man was honest and open with him, speaking to him like a grown-up and being nothing but kind. Seb had been very disappointed by the assistant that had attempted to help him instead.

Sebastian didn't want to get the man – Wynn – into any trouble, especially since he had actually tried to help him in his own way. The blonde was quiet for a long moment, trying to work out how to phrase what to say. “He did manage to get it working again eventually, though admittedly he did seem as baffled as I by it at first.” Spinning the chair slightly with his foot, Seb added “I fear I did not speak to him much. He seemed rather disinterested in any form of communication.” That was an understatement; the rude man had barely acknowledged Seb's existence.

The therapy comment caused Seb's eyebrows to raise slightly and he bit back the question that immediately leapt to the tip of his tongue. Instead he rephrased it into a hopefully somewhat less judgemental statement. “I do hope that it is helping you, Mr Cohen.” Though Seb did internally wonder just what might cause the teacher to need therapy. He seemed very happy and well functioning; what could he ever need to see a therapist about? “I did not go on the obstacle course, though I am certain you could not have done too badly. I was too afraid of falling.” That and he had been afraid of looking silly in front of the other students. He didn't want to draw any unnecessary attention to himself.

The last question that Mr Cohen asked caused Sebastian to go very quiet, his idle spinning on the chair pausing as he tried to think of how to answer. After a long while he spoke, voice very quiet. “I... do not know, Mr Cohen. They said I wouldn't see them ever again, but I have written to them now. Perhaps they will have changed their minds.”

[Cee Cohen]

“Perhaps.” More likely he’d been lying under a desk somewhere, asleep. Or maybe Ferris had finally been able to get him to eat at somewhere not in his office. It was unlikely but altogether possible. Ferris had been encouraging him to spend more and more time outside the office, and although a lot of those trips seemed to be to the nurse. Weird trend, that. Cee shrugged it off. “I sincerely apologize that the trip was so unpleasant. I’ll have a talk with him. He shouldn’t be scaring students, and he should recognize that not everyone has the same reaction to technology as he does.” Not into trouble, and Cee would probably forget that in moments, but at the time he meant it with real sincerity.

He laughed. “No one knows how to manage with typewriters. My father taught me when I was far younger than you. He worked with cars, usually, but he was quite good with his hands and didn’t mind if I occasionally returned things to the home and tinkered.” A whimsical smile appeared on his face. “That was what my mother despised. Anyways. I am not disinterested in communication, and this shouldn’t be too difficult to phrase.”

He was already engrossed in his work, and was hardly paying attention to what he was saying—or what came out of his mouth. “Not particularly, no, but various people find it in my best interests to be attending.” Because while Cee was happy, he definitely wasn’t well-functioning. And no one other than Seb would think so. “But you’re very polite about it. Thank you.” He smiled at him, then returned to it. “Never fear falling. If you learn to pick yourself back up, you’ve learned a valuable lesson.” He paused, then cleared his throat. “As a man who’s done it many times. But we’ll allow ourselves to move on, I think.”

He looked up again at this, and this time leaned against the table, studying him. “Why don’t you come to Thanksgiving at my home?” he invited, suddenly. “I can’t guarantee great cooking—I can hardly get the oven to function—but I think I would enjoy the company, and we could ,ah, order something out. I don’t think the institute would require you to remain here.”

[Sebastian Bolstad]

Sebastian shook his head quickly, waving his head with a slightly concerned look on his face. “No, Mr Cohen. He did not scare me. He was just...” Rude? Ignorant? “Busy concentrating on what he was doing. I do not mean for him to get into trouble. He was just more... intense about the machines than I am expected. He did nothing wrong.” For as much as Wynn had unsettled him, Sebastian hated any form of conflict and the thought of someone else getting into trouble due to his poorly phrased words was a very unpleasant one indeed.

The blonde listened in polite silence as Mr Cohen spoke, a small smile gently curling the corners of his lips. “Your parents sound like decent people. It is good that you and your father had such a common interest, even if it did sometimes irritate your mother.” Sebastian had been brought up with the same mindset and beliefs about certain things as his parents, but as far as their hobbies were concerned the Bolstad family had very little in common. Now he doubted that a casual observer would even be able to tell if they were related at all, different as they clearly were now. He was exactly the kind of person his parent's protested against. “Do you still see your parents often?”

The thought of Mr Cohen in a therapy session was one that Sebastian struggled to get his head around, and he vaguely wondered if they were held with the psychiatrist that had held the meeting a few months ago. Doctor Neville still frightened Sebastian, and the blonde could not think of a reason why anyone would want to spend time in his company if they had any other choice. “I read once that no one should ever be able to make you do something for your best interests. The only person who can decide what might be good for you is yourself.” Sebastian could not remember where he had read that; possibly in a magazine sometime. He had a habit of reading pretty much anything he could get his hands on. “But I think the ability to learn to pick yourself up is good advice. I shall try to keep that in mind in the future, thank you.”

The invitation for Thanksgiving caught Sebastian completely by surprise, and the student blinked at him for a long moment before trying to find the words to answer with. “I... That is a very kind offer Mr Cohen, thank you. I would not wish to be in the way of your plans, though. Do you not see your family and friends for the holidays?”

[Cee Cohen]

Cee was staring at him, still concerned, but he eventually nodded. “Okay Sebastian. If you say it’s so, then I will accept your word for it. But I also understand and appreciate that you don’t want to get him into trouble.” Not that Cee could do anything about it even if he tried. He was just a computer instructor, and liked it that way. No one had ever tried to put him into a manager position, probably a good thing, and he’d always been grateful for that.

He smiled at him. “They’re decent people.” More decent than he was. He never ended up calling them. Partly it was because his parents were always asking if he was seeing the therapist, or when he was going to visit, or what he was going to do next—when he was going to get his better job back, although at least this one had regular benefits. That was good, right? Regular benefits? His smile slipped a bit. “No, I don’t. Not as often as I should visit. It can get awkward at times.”

Mostly because of the therapy situations he kept avoiding.

Cee laughed. “No one has ever come willingly to the belief that I am a capable homo sapien who can care for myself. But you’re very flattering, thank you.” Not even his coworkers. It was just a good thing that Cee was good at his job. He smiled at him. “You’re very wise, Sebastian. Perhaps you should be the one who is called Cornelius. I’ve been informed it means wise man, or something similar.” Another laugh as he pulled himself up onto his feet. “It was directed for me, I think.”

Cee hesitated. “No. Not typically, no. Besides, it would be beneficial for me to have some company, if you’re still interested. I’m not a very good cook, but I can feed us decently, and it’s more lively than it will be here. What do you say?”