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Sebastian has three little hearts tattooed on the inside of his wrist. People assume it's one for each of his marriages but Mark knows the truth. It's one for every man he's loved.
Sebastian's first marriage was nothing. It was a convenience, a teenager desperate to get out of his small town and into the world. Nico was his ticket, a few years older and fresh out of university with a fancy job working alongside his father under his belt. They had an apartment in the city and Nico worked a lot and Sebastian would wander around the tall buildings and visit modelling agencies and do it all with stars in his eyes. Mark imagines. Sometimes Mark saw a glimmer of those stars but mostly Sebastian was jaded and a little bit broken by the time Mark met him.
Sebastian came second in a modelling competition, the big prize going to somebody else, and it was the turning point in Sebastian's life in so many ways. He met Dietrich who offered him a contract in Salzburg, the beginning of his shining career, and yet Mark knows that all Sebastian really took away from that competition was the fact that he was second best.
Sebastian's marriage didn't survive the transition in his life but Mark's sure he never intended it to. It wasn't long until Sebastian went from the catwalk to magazine spreads to movie screens. He was always perfectly turned out, always fabulous and flawless, always shimmering so brightly for the people around him.
Mark met him at the Monaco Grand Prix. He found out, years later and not from Sebastian, that Sebastian didn't want to meet Mark, he wanted to meet a World Champion. Typical Seb really. He thought if you wanted to be the best you couldn't let anyone but the absolute best into your life.
They got on though, were married within a year, were divorced within another one. That wasn't a reflection of their feelings towards each other. Sebastian got his first heart for Mark. But their lives weren't compatible and Mark loved Sebastian too much to watch him destroy himself. Sebastian cited 'mental cruelty' when he filed for divorce. Mark understood. Being famous, being adored, being a star, it was all Sebastian ever wanted. Mark's home truths about Sebastian's solicitous lifestyle made him doubt himself and doubt was something he didn't have space for in his life. Sebastian needed yes men, and Mark would never fall into that category.
Sebastian moved to Monaco where he met Jenson, a down to earth screenwriter and director. When they married, Mark was pleased. Jenson might live in Monaco, inhabit Sebastian's world, but he was grounded, a good influence, and Mark hoped that it might calm Sebastian down a bit, might help him realise he could still be that shining star without sacrificing everything else in his life.
Jenson was his second heart. Christian was his third.
Christian Horner was the president of Wings for Life, the biggest movie company in Europe, which Christian built up from the ground. He was a powerful man, a meeting with him was worth millions, and he controlled much of the entertainment industry this side of America. He had a wife and a daughter and a mansion in nearly every country. He also had Sebastian as his bit on the side.
Sebastian was head over heels for Christian. He talked about their trysts in penthouse suites of expensive hotels like they were the height of sophistication and not the seedy little fucks that they were. Sebastian had always been naive and maybe this had all begun as a way to help his career but Sebastian had started to believe the lie a long time ago.
He comes to Mark's house one day in England wearing a baggy T-shirt and really bad jeans. Mark's the only one who ever gets to see him like this. For the world he is always perfectly put together, designer clothes picked out by his stylist and hair styled to within an inch of its life, unlike the mess of curls that's currently sat on top of his head. Mark smiles at him fondly, inviting him inside.
By the time Sebastian married Jenson, he and Mark were back on speaking terms again, possibly even closer than when they were married. Sebastian didn't see Mark as a threat to his career now, a voice of reason that he didn't want to hear. Mark became his confidante and sometimes Mark wondered why he, the man who looked down on his life more than anyone, would be chosen for such a job. Maybe he was hoping that Mark was going to step in and save him.
"We're getting a divorce," Sebastian says as he sits down on Mark's large sofa, petting one of the dogs. Mark looks up at him.
"What? Why?"
Sebastian sighs. "Because we filmed a movie together for 8 months and now we hate each other."
Mark snorts a laugh, shaking his head. Sebastian could be so dramatic. "Go take a holiday on some private island somewhere, give yourself a chance to miss him."
"Won't help," Sebastian mutters, almost folded in on himself.
"Jenson's good for you," Mark says. "He's solid. Secure. He's exactly what you need."
"He's the one filing for divorce," Sebastian tells him.
Mark stares at him. "Jenson is?" Sebastian nods. "Does he know about Christian?" Mark asks.
"No," Sebastian responds. "No one knows about Christian. Only you."
Mark nods, wondering what to do. "Then why?"
"Because he doesn't like me," Sebastian says. "He spent too much time with me and now he doesn't like me anymore."
"Seb, I think there might be a bit more to it than that," Mark responds. "Come on, what's going on?"
"Nothing," Sebastian insists, looking up at him with damp eyes. "He saw through me. I don't know. I'm not good enough. He doesn't want to be my husband anymore."
Mark can't see it, Jenson acting that way, but he knows it's just Sebastian's insecurities talking. This is him reliving coming second in that modelling competition in Germany, a moment that's defined his whole life despite all the success that's followed. Mark just wishes he knew how to help him get over it.
"I've moved out," Sebastian says.
"Where are you staying?" Mark asks.
"Hotels," Sebastian shrugs. "Wherever. Jenson says I can keep my things at his place in Monaco for as long as I need to."
Mark nods, but Sebastian's lack of commitment to his single life is worrying. "You know he's not going to leave his wife." Sebastian looks up, glaring at him. "If that's what you're waiting for you're wasting your time," Mark tells him.
"I'm not," Sebastian responds. "I'm not waiting for anything."
"Good," Mark says. "Because you're worth ten of him, the cheating scum."
Sebastian levels his gaze at him. "I was cheating too."
It's true and yet somehow Mark can't find Sebastian as accountable as Christian. Sebastian isn't the first little starlet in Christian's life, Mark's sure of that, and he won't be the last either. To Sebastian this is an exception, a mistake, something he often feels guilty about. But Christian makes him feel like the centre of the universe, coddles the childlike part of Sebastian that needs wrapping up in cotton wool, and Sebastian is powerless to not be taken in. That doesn't excuse his treatment of Jenson through this though. It doesn't excuse the fact that he's in the wrong. Jenson probably should file for divorce, but not whatever reason he's given on the forms.
"Do you want to stay here tonight?" Mark offers. "You're welcome to the guestroom."
"I've got a hotel suite for the weekend," Sebastian dismisses. "But thanks."
Mark nods. "You're welcome any time. You know that."
By the end of the year, the divorce is final and Sebastian has bought a house in Switzerland. Mark visits for the first time when he's freshly moved in, boxes everywhere. When he visits for the second time, a few months later, it's still in a similar state.
"I've been really busy," Sebastian explains breezily when Mark questions it. "I had two movies that overlapped. I was flying from Rome to Barcelona every other day. I barely get to be here. Do you want a drink?"
Mark's about to ask for a cup of coffee when he sees Sebastian at the drinks cabinet, one thing he managed to unpack. It's ten o'clock in the morning. "I'm fine."
Sebastian mixes himself something lethal looking as he continues to talk. "I did have a couple of weeks off but I agreed to do some modelling stuff for Dietrich. Never forget your roots."
Mark stares at him. He wants to ask him about Heppenheim and Nico and Dusseldorf if he wants to talk about roots but he doesn't want to ruin Sebastian's good mood, even if it does seem screamingly fake. Instead he goes to look out of the window, admiring the view.
"So, yeah, off to Salzburg on Monday," Sebastian says, sitting himself down on the sofa. Mark goes over to join him.
"Are you okay?"
Sebastian seems surprised by the question and Mark suspects no one's seen through him in a long time. "I'm fine."
"Seb, it's me," Mark says firmly. "You don't have to be fine."
Sebastian shrugs, sagging into the decadent cushions of the sofa, the first tiny tremors of surrender. "I'm tired," he admits.
"Because you're working every hour god sends," Mark states. "Because you don't want to be alone in this house."
Sebastian looks at him. "It's not that."
"I know it's scary for you," Mark says. "Being on your own. But you don't need someone to define you."
Sebastian looks away, sipping his drink. "I'm not on my own."
Mark's hands curl into fists, his eyes narrowing. "Don't fucking do this, Seb."
Sebastian gives him a defiant look. "You don't know what he's like when we're on our own."
"You don't know what he's like when he's with his wife," Mark counters.
Sebastian lips form into a pout that's so very coercive. Mark knows just how many people fall for that pout. Sebastian shifts his arm, looking down at the little hearts on the inside of his wrist. Christian Horner doesn't deserve a heart. He doesn't deserve to breathe the same air as Sebastian.
"He loves me," Sebastian says.
"Those are just words," Mark dismisses. "Anyone can say them."
Sebastian's eyes tear up. "He means it."
Mark can see how fragile he is, how much he needs it to be true. It scares him how Sebastian pins all of his value and self-worth onto others. "Are you talking to anyone?" Mark asks gently.
"Of course," Sebastian says, as though he's proud of it. "Always."
If Sebastian got a heart for each of his psychiatrists they'd go all the way up his arm. Mark can only conclude that means none of them have really helped yet. He's glad Sebastian's not afraid to look for support but it worries Mark that he goes through them so quickly, that it never seems to stick. Sometimes he thinks all they really do is feed into Sebastian's clawing need for attention, that little boy in him that will never be satisfied and never be good enough. Sebastian's not looking for coping strategies, he's looking for a captive audience.
"You can always talk to me," Mark tells him.
Sebastian looks up at him, offering a genuine little smile. "I do."
"Yeah," Mark agrees. "Good. And that guestroom is a standing offer. If you don't want to sit here with all these boxes."
Sebastian looks around at them. "They're my boxes," he says, as though he deserves the burden, as though he wouldn't know who he was without it.
They spend more and more time with each other, speak on the phone most days if not in person, becoming closer than ever. Sebastian even comes to one of Mark's races, Mark a team owner rather than a driver now, and it's good PR for him, standing at the back of the garage looking sultry and gorgeous, but he sticks close to Mark's side all weekend and the rumours start.
It's the part of being with Sebastian that Mark always hated the most. He's used to photographers, journalists, but not the kind of media circus that follows Sebastian around. It's disconcerting and being a part of it again, flashbulbs in his face, shouts of his name as he leaves a restaurant after a private meal with Sebastian, it reminds him just what Sebastian goes through every day. Sebastian chose this life of course, lives for it, but Mark knows those camera flashes hurt his eyes even behind his designer shades and he's far too fragile to have people shout at and jostle him like that.
It makes Mark want to protect him more than ever, a comforting hand placed on the small of his back to guide him through, and Sebastian looks at him, smiles gratefully, and Mark just hates that the photo will be all over the world before they're even back at the hotel.
Sebastian comes to visit him in England but he never takes up the offer of the guestroom. He prefers hotels, expensive suites, the noise and energy of London, the photo opportunities. Mark can't help but see it as a lie. If that was really what Sebastian craved he wouldn't have bought a house in the middle of nowhere with nothing but Swiss mountains for company. But Sebastian has always been a man of two halves; shy yet flamboyant, attention seeking yet coy, radiant yet depressed.
Mark wants to ask Sebastian to settle down with him again, it's on the tip of his tongue every time they meet now, but he can't promise it will work out any better than the first time around. Sebastian probably needs to learn to be on his own anyway, to not depend on other people. Christian is still lurking in the background though, they still have their sporadic meetings, their illicit little fucks. Sebastian doesn't talk about him nearly as much to Mark anymore, and whether that's because he feels something renewed with Mark as well or he just doesn't want to take the criticism anymore Mark's not sure. He hopes for the former.
Mark visits Sebastian at his house in Switzerland nearly a year after he's moved in and finally everything is unpacked. The place is immaculate, almost like a show home, and to Mark it's a little too perfect. A home should be lived in.
"This is an improvement," he says.
Sebastian smiles, heading to the kitchen. "Thought it was about time," he says. "Can't leave things unfinished."
He's in a buoyant mood but Mark doesn't miss the double measure of vodka he sloshes into his orange juice before handing Mark the clean one. Still, he's smiling and chatty and Mark can't help but smile back. He seems healthy, less withdrawn, like a burden's been lifted from his shoulders. Mark wonders if he finally found a psychiatrist that worked for him.
"I don't really have a guestroom still though," Sebastian admits as the evening draws in, necessitating Sebastian to turn on the little lamp, making the room glow softly. "I'd let you stay if I did."
Mark gives a little shake of his head. "Don't worry about it, mate. I'm all checked in at the hotel."
"But I'd let you stay," Sebastian insists. "Any other night."
Mark smiles. "I'll hold you to that."
Sebastian's eyes fall down, staring at his lap, his long eyelashes resting on his cheekbones. Mark can see the exact qualities that led to his irresistible fame; breathtaking beauty and childlike charms.
"Well, guess I'll be calling it a night," Mark says.
Sebastian looks up at him, a smile coming over his face and drowning out whatever flicker of emotion Mark thinks he might have seen there. It doesn't bear dwelling on. Sebastian walks him to the door, silent through Mark's generic goodbye, and then he wraps his arms around Mark's neck, pushes himself up onto his tiptoes, and brushes their mouths together. It's chaste, innocent even, and yet filled with love and hope and trust and maybe just the hint of desperation. All Sebastian's ever wanted was acceptance. Mark's hands go to his waist, holding him steady, giving him a physical representation of the security he knows he craves.
Sebastian pulls away, smiling at him, and whispers, "I'll miss you most of all, Scarecrow."
Trust Sebastian's last words to be poetic yet meaningless.
Mark is woken at 3:17am by his mobile phone ringing where it lay on the empty half of the bed. Mark will never forget that time. He'll never forget that moment.
He's at the morgue before the sun is even up, the air cold and unforgiving, like the hands of death trying to claim him too. The sheet is pulled down and Mark nods, nausea rising up in his throat, but he doesn't move, doesn't tear his eyes away. The coroner has what he needs but Mark can't just walk out on him. Sebastian hated being on his own.
He took a razorblade to his wrist, tearing apart the little hearts, breaking them one by one. Something clenches inside Mark, his eyes flooding with tears, and his knees buckle, the pain not registering as they hit the cold tile floor. He's helped to his feet, escorted from the room, but he fights them all the way, sobbing and screaming. Sebastian's smiles were so real last night. Maybe that's because he knew it was all just temporary, that peace was finally in sight for him.
Mark claims the body, arranges the funeral, gives Sebastian the best of everything. It's what Sebastian needed in life to try and feel whole and Mark just hopes that in death, maybe he finally found that completeness he spent his entire life looking for.
The sky is grey on the day that they bury him, the air cool and moist. It feels like maybe the sunshine died with Sebastian. No one could light up a room quite like him, even at his lowest most desperate points. Sebastian's last words haunt Mark as he tries to find a meaning in them that probably wasn't there. If Sebastian is Dorothy that means he's finally made it home now. But if Mark is the Scarecrow that means he doesn't have a brain and Mark can't help but see it as an insult, a message from Sebastian that if he'd thought about it hard enough he would have seen this coming.
Christian is at the funeral, his wife by his side. He's respectful enough to place himself at the back, out of the way, but Mark can't help turning and looking at him, studying his face through the readings. He looks heartbroken, genuinely distraught, his eyes carrying that familiar haunted look that Mark sees whenever he looks in the mirror. Maybe he really did love Sebastian. If that's true, Mark hopes that he showed it, hopes that he made sure Sebastian felt it. In the end it wouldn't have made a difference though. Just another situation where Sebastian was second best.
Mark looks down at the coffin and he tries to imagine Sebastian as he was at his most alive, not on that morgue slab, drained of colour and blood and life. He'd paid for the most expensive make-up artists in the industry to work on him, make him look human again and not like the sickening shell Mark had been forced to identify. They did a good job, even patched up his wrist, but they couldn't save the hearts. They were beyond repair now, the tatters hidden from view.
Mark cries about that fact for the whole night and then in the morning he goes to the first tattoo parlour he can find, not caring about hygiene or skill. He gets the outline of a heart etched into his skin, low on his hip, where no one but the most intimate of people will see it. Inside he has the letter S inscribed. This heart he will look after, carry with him, keep whole, for every day for the rest of his life. For Sebastian.