Chapter 7 {End}

The morning after was just plain weird.

Dean sat across from Seamus in the kitchen, silently eating his cereal. Seamus seemed just as tense as him, if not more, and both of them proceeded in eating their breakfast without speaking a single word to one another. The only sounds that filled the room were the crunch of cereal being chewed, the occasional clink of a spoon against a bowl and milk sloshing as it was refilled. Dean avoided meeting Seamus's eyes like the plague, and Seamus seemed to be in agreement with that.

He also made sure to leave at least ten inches of space between them at all times, and whenever they happened to touch accidentally, or raised their eyes at the same time, one of them would turn tomato red (Seamus) while the other would stammer out a nervous "Sorry," (Dean) and then they would both look away.

Never before had things been so awkward between them, and now it was driving Dean crazy. Of course had Seamus and he gotten into fights before, heavy ones with screaming and crying and days of silent treatment, but nothing had ever compared to the tension that was stretched taut like a wire between them now.

Dean wished for it all to end. He just wanted Sea and him to hug and have a good laugh and then continue like nothing had ever happened; he wanted things to go back to the way they had been before last night so badly that early this morning, he had found himself on his knees on the bathroom floor, crying into their worn-out, baby-blue rug out of sheer despair. He missed Seamus as though he was on another planet, and the fact that he was right there, not quite five foot away, and the only thing keeping them from talking to each other was their own stupidity, made everything ten times worse.

Things were so excruciatingly awkward between them because Dean's parents, upon coming home late at night, had found their son and his best friend cuddled up on the couch, arms around one another and fingers intertwined.

This in itself wouldn't have been so much of a problem if it hadn't been for Dean's mum immediately assuming that Seamus and Dean were, in fact, dating, and informing the entire family about it merrily. Dean had woken to Tomai and Annie, giving him stupid grins and wagging their eyebrows as he stretched and carefully removed his - falsely assumed - boyfriend's arm from around his waist.

Needless to say, the whole family had asked him some very embarrassing questions since, questions that he did not have any answers to. By the time that Sea had awoken from his deep slumber, Dean had been so pissed he really just wanted to kind of punch his friend in the mouth.

Seamus, sleepy and unaware of the storm he'd been coming awake to, had smiled at Dean, stretching and asking: "Hey, bud, you sleep well? It's been a while since we've done this," causing a highly amused Tom to snort into his tea with laughter. Dean, of course, had been both aware that Sea was referring to them watching a movie together and that Tomai had simply taken his statement the wrong way - we haven't gotten much sleep in a while, Dean - but he was so angry, so mortified that he did not bother clearing things up; instead, he had just clenched his jaw and ripped the blanket off of Seamus, turning his back on him as he began folding it to put it away.

Seamus, utterly confused as to what was going on, had tried very hard and very genuinely to cheer Dean up. His attempts included pulling silly faces, speaking in funny voices and over-using bad puns; shortly, a list of what never failed to make Dean smile. This time, however, it was pissing Dean the fuck off - not only had his family chosen to ruin their friendship, no, now they could also witness how poor Seamus tried desperately to save it.

For Sea's sake, he had kept his mouth shut, forcing himself to smile at his heartfelt attempts to make him feel better. His mouth was a hard line, though, and his smile was never genuine.

It was only when Seamus had reached out reluctantly, putting his hand on Dean's lower back gently in a sort of reassuring gesture, that Dean had snapped, whirling around and yelling at Seamus to stop touching him, for fuck's sake, wasn't he getting on his nerves enough already?

Seamus's eyes had been big and blue and impossibly hurt, and from that moment on, they hadn't spoken to one another.

And now here they were, eating their breakfast in silence that was so charged with anger and pain it sounded loud to Dean, not looking at one another. Dean quietly fumed into his cornflakes, acutely aware of every little movement Sea made. The memory of a certain evening kept going around his head, taunting him with the image of a beat-up Seamus drifting off to sleep, messy hair like a halo around him, murmuring the three Cursed Words and - worse, even - Dean saying them back, unthinking and caught off guard in a second of weakness.

Because that was what it had been - weak.

For years and years, Dean had managed to hide what was wrong with him from everyone, including Seamus. For years, he had taken the denial, the lies, the excuses - he had snuck around, meeting up with Zacharias Smith in empty classrooms and dark corners of the hallway, and afterwards, he had always felt guilty and dirty, like people would be able to see the paths Zach's hands had traced on his body, the places his lips had been just minutes before.

It had cost Dean a lot of time and energy and nerves, and now he had fucked up all his hard work in one moment of weakness, in one second that he had his guard broken down by Seamus Finnigan, of all people.

Dean wanted to hate himself for it, but something about admitting that the fault had been his for not being okay with who he was had stopped him short, so now Dean hated Seamus, because it was easier and because he could still pretend that way.

Pretend like he wasn't bisexual, like he didn't enjoy a boy's company as much as a girl's, like he had only ever been straight.

And now he was dangerouly close to being exposed to everyone, all thanks to Seamus. Dean knew that Sea had struggled with coming to terms with his own sexuality, that it had never been easy for either of them; it didn't make him feel better, though. On the contrary, it only reminded Dean of how they were in this together, how they could support and help each other, and how he was a coward who chose not to.

Dean found his thoughts interrupted when his mother walked in, coily hair contained within a blue-and-red-patterned head scarf, wearing a sunshine-yellow trenchcoat. It was obvious that she would catch people's attention, but Dean was used to that; his mother was pretty, and black, and wearing a hijab, so people stared at her an awful lot. "Dean, sweetheart?"

"Yeah?" Dean asked, climbing off his stool to rinse his bowl out in the sink. Despite making himself not look useless, he also had a reason not to look into her eyes. Two birds with one stone.

"Your father and I are going out for coffee, and then we'll be picking up some things from the store on our way back. We'll be a couple of hours, but you boys'll be alright?" Dean nodded briefly, hiding the tension that had entered his body upon the thought of being left alone with Seamus for a while. "Do you need me to bring back something for you, Dean? Seamus?"

"No, thank you, Mrs. Thomas," Seamus replied, voice pleasant. "That will hardly be necessary. I'll be catching a train back to Dublin tonight."

Dean couldn't stop himself from inhaling sharply; his hands stilled, and it took everything in him not to turn around and stare. Seamus was leaving? He was really planning to go back to that hell hole he had sought shelter from?

Seamus's voice did not betray any kind of emotion as he replied to Mrs. Thomas surprised questions which mirrored most of Dean's thoughts. "I'm sure, Mrs. Thomas, thank you," he said. "No, I'll be fine, really. It was just some neighbourhood kids who had had a little too much booze, my parents are already on it. We'll file a complaint and a restraining order and that should do the trick. I have taken advantage of your hospitality for too long, I shouldn't burden you any longer. Me mam's already expecting me back."

The lies rolled off his tongue so easily that Dean could not help but find himself impressed. How could Seamus be planning to go back home after what his father had done to him?

"Okay, that's a shame - we really love having you here. You're welcome to stay for as long as you like, right?" Mrs. Thomas sounded confused, but genuine. Her eyebrows were drawn together and she seemed unhappy with the whole prospect of Seamus planning to leave.

"Yes, thank you, Mrs. Thomas," Seamus replied, sounding so sincere Dean almost bought it himself. "It means a lot."

"Right," Mrs. Thomas said, smiling at him and grabbing the shopping list off the counter. "Just think about it, okay, honey? Whatever you decide is fine. I'll see you boys tonight, then - have a good day, you two." Dean nodded and grunted something undefinable, waiting until the sounds of his mum and dad leaving the house had faded and the front door fell closed behind them.

As soon as he heard the lock click shut, he whirled to face Seamus. "What the fuck, man?"

"Don't act so surprised," Seamus said, rising from his stool and approaching him slowly. Dean felt every single one of his muscles tense up when Seamus reached around him, placing his bowl in the sink; he was uncomfortably close now, his arm brushing Dean's lower abdomen. "See? You can't stand being around me. It makes you uncomfortable. Did you really think I would not notice, Dean?"

Dean stared; his mouth was dry and wordless and the lump in his throat was painful. He wanted to say something, needed to say something; to explain this whole wretched situation to Seamus, to clarify what he was feeling, anything to prevent him from going back.

"He'll kill you if you return," Dean finally managed to whisper, his voice dry and hoarse like he hadn't used it in days. His words trembled alongside his hands, but Seamus did not seem to notice.

"Yeah, so what?" the sandy-haired boy laughed, a bitter sound that came out all wrong and hateful. In his bright blue eyes, there was nothing of the warm-hearted boy Dean had known all his life. They only mirrored resentment, anger and, beneath it all, pain. "Why would you care? It'd be a relief to you, too, wouldn't it? The nasty faggot would be gone, finally. Don't think for even a second that I don't see it in your eyes, mate; the contempt, the resentment, all of it. You despise me as much as my parents do. The sad thing is that you don't even have the guts to be honest about it - instead, you lie to my face and you burden yourself with my existence. I've burdened you long enough. I'll be gone by two, and then you'll finally be free. Isn't that what you always wanted?"

What Dean wanted was to interrupt him, to correct Seamus's words; but his throat had closed up, and his tongue was tied. There was nothing that he could say now to convince Sea to believe him; Sea had seen the hatred in his eyes, and though it was hatred for Dean himself and not for his best friend, it would all sound like a shallow, petty excuse. Dean could only stand and watch, motionless, as Seamus turned around and walked out of the kitchen, and he lost his best friend.

* * *

Dean spent the majority of the day in the living room, painting and listening to music which he blasted out of his earphones loud enough to blow any thoughts of Sea right out of his brain. He knew that Sea must be upstairs, in his room, packing his things and preparing to leave because he would rather put himself in mortal danger than be with Dean.

Something about it all was so twisted, so incomprehensible that he felt the overpowering urge to laugh. Nothing about their situation was funny, but things had gone so completely, so utterly wrong between them so fast it was like cruel irony.

The worst part was that Dean did not know how to save what was left of their friendship.

If he told Seamus the truth, it would sound like a foul excuse. If he begged him not to go, it would look like he was scared of being responsible should his former best friend not make it out alive. Anything else would sound too trivial.

Dean groaned loudly, lowering his paint brush to take a look at what he was painting. Truth be told, he usually used whatever was on his mind and turned it into art, but today, it was Seamus who, now more than ever, occupied his thoughts, and everything about Seamus was art already: from his messy, soft hair and his eyes so brilliantly blue they looked like they held the whole sky; from his smile, dimpled and mischievous and lovely, to the freckles splattering his skin like constellations of stars. Dean didn't know how to capture something so lovely, so artfully messy in a way that would do him justice; and yet, here he was, the golden-brown colour he had chosen for Sea's hair on his brush.

Dean, helpless and confused, ignored the tears that began rolling down his cheeks and, ears full of Bring Me The Horizon, kept painting.

* * *

It was half two when Seamus entered the living room; he didn't know what made him do it, but something wouldn't let him leave without saying farewell to his oldest friend. It just didn't feel right.

Dean was still painting, the music that came from his earphones so loud that Seamus could hear it all the way to the door. For a second, he stopped short, taking in Dean's appearance; his grey jumper that was splattered with paint, his focused gaze, his careful hands making stroke after precise stroke on the canvas. His broad shoulders blocked his painting from Sea's view, but Sea was certain it would be life-like and lovely like anything Dean did.

Deciding that approaching Dean from behind would be a supremely bad idea, Seamus moved around and walked towards him from the front. Dean looked up from his painting; his eyes were bottomless and rimmed with red, like he'd been crying. Impossible, Seamus thought as Dean paused his music and removed his earphones.

"I didn't think I would see you again," Dean finally said, carefully schooling his voice and features so that they gave nothing away.

Seamus sighed, putting one of his hands in his pocket. "Me either. But, you know - we were friends for so long, so that should count for something, right? I mean, saying goodbye should be in it, at least."

Dean's face didn't betray any kind of emotion as he nodded and put his paintbrush aside. "I was just finishing my painting. You wanna have a look?"

Seamus looked at the floor, then towards the shelf with the DVDs; anywhere but Dean. Something about his neutrality was tearing at his heart painfully. "Sure. The bus leaves at ten past; I'll be going to King's Cross and from there back to Dublin. I doubt I'll return to Hogwarts alive."

Seamus couldn't help the bitter tone that crept into his voice towards the end; he was very much aware that, should he show up at his house, he would never make it out alive. I would rather die than face the contempt in Dean's eyes one more time.

"Sea. Have a look." Dean's voice was soft and laden with some emotion that stirred something in Sea's chest; astonished, he looked up, then proceeded in taking the painting from Dean and examining it carefully.

"What does this look like to you?" Dean asked softly. Seamus had trouble comprehending what the painting was telling him: it depicted him and Dean, locked in a kiss, streaks of blue and purple covering Dean's face and the colours of the rainbow on Sea's own.

"Like - like art," Seamus finally breathed quietly. Slowly, he raised his eyes from the painting and looked up at Dean, who had stepped closer to him.

"I think there's lots we need to talk about," Dean said, dark eyes shimmering. Seamus could feel the corners of his lips tug up into a tentative smile. "But we have all the time in the world for that."

"We do," Seamus agreed, nodding slowly. He could feel his heart pounding in his temples, his throat, the tips of his fingers.

Dean cupped Sea's cheek in his hand, their gazes locked the whole time. "Because I look at you, and I'm home," Dean quoted, causing Seamus to make a bizarre, disbelieving sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh.

Dean leaned in to close the distance between them, Seamus rising on his tiptoes to meet him halfway. Their lips touched and Seamus Finnigan was home again.

* * * * *

A/N: Hi loves! First of all, the biggest of all apologies for taking so long to edit and publish this last chapter. I hope you find it was worth the wait!

I have enjoyed writing this story for you and taking you on this little journey with Dean and Seamus. If you enjoyed reading this book as much as I did writing it, feel free to let me know in a comment! They always brighten my day.

The cover I edited myself by putting on the pride flags, but the original drawing was made by stilesstays.tumblr.com x

Furthermore, this story touched briefly on a subject that is very important to me in my everyday life: internalized biphobia. I know that I do not write about it much in this book, but it's a very difficult topic for me. I'm planning on putting some more words out here about it in the near future.

If you don't want the Deamus cuteness to end just yet, head on over to my profile and have a look at the two-part short story "Kissing You" and the oneshots & prompts book I opened! Prompts are always open and I enjoy putting your ideas into words so feel free to send some in via PM!

Kissing You: https://www.wattpad.com/story/7764594-kissing-you

Deamus Oneshots & Prompts: https://www.wattpad.com/story/19108827-oneshots-prompts-deamus

Now I'm really looking forward to creating more stories for and with you, be they about Deamus or any other awesome ship!

Lots of love,

Charlotte x