It was with some excitement that Blaine boarded the bus leaving for Westerville on an unseasonably hot day in the middle of half term. He wiped beads of perspiration from his forehead with one wrist and hiked his rucksack a little higher up on his shoulders as he passed the moustachioed bus driver the fare for the journey. It had been very much a shock to the system when he discovered that Lima Ohio had no direct rail network connection to the town where his mother lived (and where he himself had boarded for a good portion of the past two years).
Westerville was a memory that remained bright and vivid and at the forefront of his mind, from the rolling fields where Cooper had taught him riding, to his favourite uptown delicatessen. And to Dalton academy; a bright red bricked school, smaller than average but home to him since he had started boarding there as a freshman. His mother was so used to having him live away from her, as he was also doing currently at his new school; the only issue for her was the long commute. Blaine currently lived in a small semi detached that was close to William Mckinley High; it was smart and had a small neat garden and lots of small neat rooms to match. He had the place all to himself and he liked it that way.
He peered around the rickety old bus for a good seat. It was near to packed, and full of passengers fanning themselves to stave off the heat. One lady smiled at him and offered him the seat next to her. Blaine slid in beside her gratefully. He pondered the long hours that were ahead of him, as he slipped his earbuds on.
When hearing about his hasty decision to reintroduce himself to public education in a big way (and to the challenge of questionable cafeteria lunches and facing small town bullies), his mother had been quite nonplussed, she had gestured towards him, wineglass in hand, threatening to spill her Merlot on the cream rug.
"Darling that's the most ridiculous thing."
Blaine, had shrugged and fought back a grin.
"All I need is a group of theatre kids and a place to stay. And I was thinking..."
Blaine had wondered how to broach the subject
"One of Dad's places- "
Palmira (Call me Pam) Anderson hadn't seemed put out by the mention of her previous husband, and merely raised one dark eyebrow archly.
"That man." She rolled her eyes.
"You can't stay in that place. It probably needs a hell of a good cleaning and lord knows I can't spare Mari and she's the only one who-"
"I can do it" Blaine interjected. "I can do it- I'll have loads of time." He didn't mind cleaning or cooking. The idea of the responsibility warmed him.
His mother had narrowed her eyes at him.
"I despise public schools, you know that Blaine."
"I know mom." Blaine shrugged. "Me too, I had to move from my last one remember?"
"You should have been put into private school straight out of the kindergarten- I /told/ Charles, I said-"
Blaine cleared his throat. He had heard this a million times previously.
Mrs Anderson looked at him mournfully.
"Lima is a dreary back end town, dear, are you sure?"
"I have been there before you know mother. We live in Ohio too, it's not that bad."
Blaine thought about the warm atmosphere of the Lima bean, he thought of free breadsticks, and the soft orange lights of the McKinley auditorium. He thought of Rachel and her inhumanly crazy belts, and Mercedes' pretty runs. He did not think of Kurt, lest his mother see it written all over his face.
His mother took a steadying sip of wine, curls loosening from her haphazard bun and falling in dark tendrils over her face. She looked pretty and fretful in the firelight. Blaine was suddenly very sad.
"Fine" she said at last "Fine darling. I'll – I'll get Marietta to help you pack… and lord knows I rarely get to see you as it is, I just-"
Blaine swallowed and held out his arms awkwardly to her. Pam froze and set down her wine glass before holding her son close and kissing his forehead. They stayed that way for a while, swaying minutely.
"You're a brave kid, Blaine. You've never needed me or anyone. It used to scare me, but it's one of your assets. You can't let anybody know about the arrangements, it's illegal okay?"
"I won't tell."
Blaine burrowed his face into his mother's arms holding her tight. Pam kissed the top of his head and then pulled him away to arm's length.
She laughed and pulled a face. "Why must you insist on damping down your curls Blaine?"
"They're not like yours." Blaine scrunched his nose and scratched his left temple self-consciously.
"Maybe you ought to grow them out then."
Blaine laughed and hugged her.