Hey everyone! New fic! Really hope you enjoy! :D

I promise it's not just a re-write of the movie :P I really hope you like? :D Please review!

Dear Diary,

I think every day of the boy that I lost that night.

The boy that I loved.

The boy that I would personally go down to the bottom of the ocean, to try desperately to find him, or what's left of him. What's left of him, amongst those hundreds of poor, lost souls that died that night. The frozen, precious remains, because they are all I have left.

I would do it in a heartbeat.

He's down there. I feel him every night of my life. He haunts my dreams like a curse. His eyes stare into my soul, endless reminders of what we should have had. Everything we should have been, everything I should have told him.

And it kills me.

Blaine Anderson was bored. Beneath his feet, he felt the mighty sea gently rock the ship from side to side, making small waves in his champagne glass. At first the movement had been nauseating, but during the hours he'd already been on board, he'd grown accustomed to it. Stood in a corner, leant against the wall, Blaine watched the social evening dinner party and dance unfold before him. There was much chatter and laugher, and some couples danced to the impressive string band, glasses clinking and the occasional burst of high, false laugher. Blaine had a feeling that some of the nausea may actually be due to his snobby, upper-class company. Having been around it all his life, he was still astounded at how out-of-place he felt in his own class. The boastful conversations, the strait-laced dancing, the feeling that everyone was walking on very thin ice, trying desperately not to slip under. From his observations, Blaine watched as each of these high-class, exquisitely-dressed, overly-well-spoken wealthy men and women were permanently looking over their shoulder, trying to consider themselves a little higher in society than their dance partner. There was so much pretence and façade in the air, you could almost taste it. Blaine would hate to live his life like that. But here he was, right in the middle of it all. Blaine detested events like this.

Even after the short time he'd been on the ship; it was only a few hours since they'd left Southampton, he felt as if he'd been aboard the great ocean liner forever. And "forever" was turning out to be unbearably long-and frustratingly dull. And he was about ready to jump overboard.

The RMS Titanic. The newspapers had made much of her size, speed and luxury, claiming her to be the greatest cruise ship ever to sail the ocean. True, she was quite the most amazing ship Blaine had yet seen, with her four great funnels and the sheer vastness. He'd been completely in awe of her as they'd boarded earlier today, and couldn't help but be excited. She was the length of Shaftsbury avenue in London, had every modern facility imaginable, and she was utterly unsinkable. Also, she was very beautiful; truly the jewel of the White Star line, and Blaine did indeed feel privileged to be on her maiden voyage. Even if he'd rather be anywhere else in the world.

Tickets on board were like gold-dust-but if Blaine's mother couldn't get one, no one could. Blaine could see her now, dancing a few feet away from him with some wealthy bearded businessman in a sparkly evening dress that little bit too young for her, laughing too high-pitched with her all-too-perfect white teeth. She was "socialite" personified. Blaine was prepared to bet anything she'd only decided to uproot the family and move back to America because of the thought of boasting to her friends that she'd travelled on the maiden voyage of this most famous and great ship. That would be just like her. So, naturally, Blaine had to drop everything, the life he'd had in England, all dreams of attending the Royal College of Music shattered, to accompany his parents back home. Nice.

There was one comfort-his best friend Rachel Berry was also travelling back to New York on this voyage. Her motives were entirely different-her dream was to return to New York to attend drama college and take her astounding talents to Broadway. He could see her too, across the room in a perfect light blue dress, looking amazing. She'd loyally stood beside him for most of the night, until he insisted she go and have fun. Every man in the room wanted to dance with her, all eyes on her-which was just the way she liked it. However, Blaine was rather unnerved by the way a certain passenger stared at her. An old man, perhaps in his fifties or sixties, with grey hair, shifty eyes and a look of untrustworthiness whom Blaine knew to be called Jesse St James was leering at her most unpleasantly.

He had half a mind to go and have a word with him. But every time he tried-his mother would bring a new girl up to him by the arm to introduce. Blaine sighed in frustration. He was prepared to bet he'd met every young, single first-class woman on the entire God-damned vessel. Every few minutes, his mother would take yet another girl of varying attractiveness over to him by the arm, hopeful looks in their eyes that this might finally be the one. She'd smile prettily at him, and he'd have to grimace politely back, as his mother nodded encouragingly. Courteously, he'd talk to her for a while, maybe even dance with her if she insisted. But then, always, he'd thank her for her time, and politely excuse himself.

It was hard to see who was more disappointed, the girls-or his mother.

Blaine hated her trying to play matchmaker, and felt so rude to the women who often looked very disheartened. Rachel nodded understandingly from across the room, knowing-but his mother could never understand. Or know.

He hated to be such a disappointment. But he was not about to be something he wasn't.

It wasn't that Blaine wasn't interested in a relationship-it was just…he'd liked someone back in England. He'd liked them a lot. He used to hang around the shop they worked in for hours on end, ducking between shelves, too shy to say a word to them. He wished with all his heart he had now. But it was too late. He never could. Maybe it was better that way, maybe they wouldn't have liked him in kind…his name was Jeramiah.

Blaine clenched his fist. It still hurt…but he forced the feelings away as best he could. No point dwelling on them now…he tried to tell himself.

The party continued as he watched. Rachel tossed her long, shiny hair, dancing like a professional, with every guy in the room, laughing properly and having fun. Blaine envied her. But he was pleased his friend was having such a good time. She'd cried earlier, waving goodbye to her dads at the port as the ship pulled away…

Rachel's future was bright. Blaine didn't know where his was leading…

"Come on, darling, don't look so miserable!" His mother squeezed his arm, gently-but he could sense the frustration in her made-up eyes. Jewellery glittered at her throat, bracelets all up her slender wrists. "At least look like you're enjoying yourself?" she pleaded. Of course. He was embarrassing her, as usual.

"Actually-" His brained whirred. "I'm-I'm rather tired. I think I'm going to go to bed,"

"Oh!" She looked surprised-and a little disappointed. "Well…okay…well, there's always tomorrow…off you go then,"

"Goodnight," Blaine bid her quickly, before she could say anything else, and started across the room. The buzz of chatter and clink of glasses rang in his ears as he passed everyone, waving to Rachel, who barely noticed, in deep conversation with a young woman in a large green dress who'd been "introduced" to Blaine earlier.

He continued along, dodging the people dancing and trying not to-

"Oh!"

Suddenly, something collided with him-and there was a loud shatter of breaking glass and spilling liquid.

"Oh my!"

The Something dived to the ground and hastily began to scrape what was left of the champagne glasses onto the tray. It was a young member of Titanic staff, dressed in the smart waiter suit, a young guy with shiny brunette hair and pale skin, which reminded Blaine of china figures. The nape of his neck was ghostly white as he tried to clean up the mess. He was growing paler. "I'm so sorry, sir!" His rather high, musical voice sounded terrified.

"Oh no, don't worry, it was my fault," Blaine re-assured him gently. The poor guy couldn't have been any older than him, and he seemed so frightened and panicky. Blaine had seen the way some of the upper-class passengers spoke to the staff, like they were so much lower than them, worth so much less. So he understood why the boy was so scared. Pitying him, Blaine knelt down to help him. It had been his fault after all.

"Oh no, sir, you don't have to-it really was my-"

The boy looked up, his eyes still fearful-but surprised. His voice cut off.

Blaine looked back.

He stared.

It was like someone had taken Blaine, and cast him overboard, the water cutting off all sound, blurring his surroundings until nothing was in focus, except what was right in front of him. He felt…he couldn't describe…what?…what was this…?

There was golden light. Well, there couldn't have been…but there was. It surrounded the boy in a warm, heavenly glow. This was the only real thing in the room. It was impossible…

This was the most beautiful sight Blaine had ever seen.

In the confusion of Blaine's mind, he wondered if an angel had fallen from the sky and landed in front of him, for that was the only explanation he could think of, that could even come close. The boy's face was angelic, innocent, sweet, his snow-white skin flawless. His big eyes were beautiful, mesmerising, blue-green-grey, and deeper than the wide, wide ocean, with long, dark eyelashes, making them even more devastating. His whole physic looked graceful, like a dancer, his lips…

Blaine's description was not doing him justice. But he couldn't think straight. His breath had caught in his throat, almost suffocating him.

There was the strangest feeling in his chest, nothing close to anything he'd ever experienced before. Not just the incredibly quickened pulse…but it felt as if…it wanted to fly. To leave his chest, leave the loneliness behind…and join this beautiful stranger's heart. Like it was no longer a part of him, like it had become entirely separate matter, with it's own mind and will…and it was…it was…

"Oh dear! We are terribly sorry, Mr Anderson!"

A voice broke into the perfect bubble around Blaine and the boy. Shaking his head a little, Blaine came out of the trance in a jolt, like being woken suddenly from a deep and wonderful sleep to a harsh reality.

Groggily, Blaine tore his eyes up. Standing over them was a middle-aged man, in clothes similar to the boy's, but he was obviously superior. "Get up, boy!" he said sharply to the pale stranger. "What are you doing?"

"I…I…"

The boy's high voice, sweet and clear as a bell, stammered.

"For goodness sake! Where's your head? Those glasses are coming out of your wages!"

"I-I'm-I'm sorry-"

"No, it wasn't his fault," Blaine was astounded to discover his voice still worked after the out-of-body experience.

"Mr Anderson, sir, we do apologise for this!" the older man said humbly to Blaine, before turning back to the other boy. "Why do you look so strange, boy? To your feet, and remember-you are here to work, not float around with your head in the clouds! Now, kindly focus,"

"Y-yes, sir," The boy stuttered over his words, looking down to the floor. "Sorry sir…Sorry…Mr Anderson,"

Before Blaine could attempt to say a word, he was gone. Slipped away, like a dream. He was lost in the crowd in a heartbeat. Blaine was shellshocked.

"Away with the fairies half the time, that one…" the older man was tutting to Blaine. "We assure you the rest of our crew are far more experienced…Enjoy the voyage, Mr Anderson,"

Blaine barely registered. He started, dumbstruck, after this…this angel. This angel in the middle of the ocean. And then-he breathed out for the first time in what felt like forever. It came out strangely. Like it wasn't his own any more.

Blaine now knew what was meant by the phrase. "Take my breath away,". And "stolen my heart,"

And… "Love at first sight,"…?

Really hope you enjoyed, PLEASE review :D Thank you so much! :D PVG24601xxxx