2- French Class

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The fourteenth of March. It was probably just another ordinary day for everyone at Dalton, and even though it meant something to Sebastian, he chose to shrug it off as unimportant. After all, this was his first time away from Barry, and nearly a few months had flown past him.

He did write letters and receive them in return. He did keep in touch with his other family in Central City. But not having them around him physically was a pain.  

Sebastian yawned as he woke up, and checked the calendar to see the very obvious date glaring at him through its pages. March 14. His heart leapt out of his chest for a millisecond.

"Nope, not gonna do that," he shook his head. "Keep your head up, pretend it's a regular day, and you'll get through the day. No fuss, no muss, and certainly no shit from others."

He stretched his arms, pulling his torso upwards along with him. He was really glad that he had been granted an independent dorm room with an empty bed on the opposite end of the room. Were any occupant to come, he would have had to hide his other side harder- the Central City side, his Barry-loving, soft side. 

Speaking of Barry...

He gazed at the clock. He had woken up ahead of the alarm, so he still had time to call his older brother and wish him a happy birthday.

Yes, it was Sebastian's birthday. But he never told anyone because people greeting him on his special day would only make him miss his home all the more. That would direct his thoughts to his last happy celebration with Barry, which would then transport him to the moment he lifted the blue canvas to see his mother's pallid face.

The phone beeped several times before going into voicemail. 'Hey, this is Barry, leave a message!'

Sebastian sighed. Of course. Barry, being the smarter kid, was busier than him. Maybe he had left his phone at home to attend the morning coaching for Physics undisturbed.

Sebastian yawned once more before getting dressed and heading down for breakfast.

-------

"If you don't finish the exercise, I'll promise you, jeune homme, you will pay dearly," the French teacher roared at the top of her voice. Sebastian felt pity for the boy who was being yelled at, and couldn't believe that the Warblers had serenaded this very teacher not a couple of days ago.

Uptown girl? Hah.

Suddenly, the sound of someone huffing and panting was heard. Whoever it was, they had been running wildly.

The classroom door banged open as the school's postman stood there, hands on his knees, out of breath and having a large parcel tucked under his arm.

Sebastian saw his state and tutted loudly. The teacher glared at him, but he couldn't care less. He had an infamous reputation to uphold, after all, and the teachers couldn't say anything because he was always one of the top rankers of his class.

"Do you have mail for me?" the teacher asked. The postman shook his head. Her gaze narrowed. "Then I believe you know deliveries for students are to be done outside of class hours."

"Beg pardon, missus," the man panted. "But this is of urgent nature. The postmaster 'imself told me of this. The sender 'imself called, he said, and asked this be given immediately, right into the person's 'ands."

The teacher's eyes narrowed and swept across the whole class as if scanning for the person who could be the receiver of the parcel and give him a good telling-off.

"Well, get it over with," she said quietly.

The postman nodded and called out, "Sebastian Smythe, is he 'ere?"

Sebastian's head snapped up. No, surely not...

The teacher looked like Christmas had decided to repeat itself for 365 days. She smirked and Sebastian matched it with his own classic, before standing up to snatch the parcel.

"Open it," she demanded. Sebastian huffed. She didn't seem like she would leave him alone until he did. What did she suspect the sender of? Posting a bomb right into class?

Still, his fingers trembled as he tugged off the seal and unwrapped the brown paper off the box. He didn't want his hopes to rise up. He certainly didn't remember telling anyone about his birthday, but...

A letter fell out untucked from the messily gift-wrapped box. Opening it up, his eyes trailed down the nearly illegible writing (highly contrary to his own neat letters).

Dear Bas

Happy birthday! I just miss you so much. No matter how much I celebrate with Joe and Iris here, it just feels half-full. I remembered you the entire day yesterday, and decided to just pull myself together instead of moping around. 

I sent you a present! Yay!

I want to tell you that you mean the world to me, Bassy. I don't care that we fight sometimes, and I don't care that we still disagree about the lightning man. And I certainly didn't want you to dampen your own birthday, because it reminds you of mom.

So I hope this little something will cheer you up every birthday!

Lots of love and still more coming

Barry XOXO

PS- You did receive it on 14th March, right? I'd be mad if you didn't.

Sebastian didn't realise when the tears had decided to start dripping down his cheeks. He gingerly fingered the messy packing. Barry had wrapped this himself, it was obvious.

Tearing at it, ignoring the class, he opened the box and gasped.

Inside were an entire stack of music albums and a DVD player, something Sebastian hadn't been able to procure ever since he joined Dalton. He had forgotten about it.

But more importantly, the albums also had every recording ever of his, Barry's and Iris' childhood together, added with a few video messages from the recent days.

Rummaging beneath the box, he found a photo frame.

He flipped it around, his hands now shaking violently from weakness.

It was a photo of the Allen family.

The waterworks started flowing down his face. The tears gushed and squeezed out of his eyes, and he cried and cried, unbothered about whether the entire class was shocked to see the cocky Warbler break down this way.

This birthday was beautiful, indeed. 

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