Disclaimer: I don't own these characters oh well.
The air whipped furiously aroud him, forceful and threatening. It was numbing. He had long since lost feeling in his face and his chestnut hair was dancing violently in the wind. But he stood among it, steady and grounded, as his mind raced. The wind made a tunnel aroud him, as if it to boldly threaten but too afraid to touch the sole figure that dared to face it. Instead, it moved almost gracefully around him. He was the eye of the storm. He embodied it and he felt it. The tornado was a part of him, though It would not touch him, he felt the blood twist within his veins. He smirked at the realization. He did not know how he got there… wherever thre was. There was still so much about himself that he did not know or remember for that matter, but he did have instinct, and right now, instinct told him to move.
Slowly, the tall and slender boy walked forward, the wind moving with him and the rain intensifying around naked form. Whatever was left on the road flug itself towards the distance with each tentative step he made. He was overcome by adrenaline, the thrill of it all so new but so spectacular. His steps quickened and became more confident and as his pace quickened so did the wind, and so did the grey spiraling cloud of dust around him until he broke out into a complete run, eyes closed and bare feet scraping drenched, black pavement. And for some reason he did not know, instinct told him to jump.
His running intensified, sending waves of rainwater spraying from the backs of his feet and used the momentum to thrust himself into the air. He seemed to hang there for a moment, so lost in the new feeling of it all, but then he began to drop, his stomach plummeted and his eyes shot open wide. Instinct had a way of appearing in moments such as this with a quick shudder of his shoulders and a craning of his neck, he felt the heavy extensions behind his back unfurl and catch cleanly to the whapping air. So thats what those were.
His back arched at the sensation and his head turned up towards the sky, which in turn aimed him and sent him jolting and spiraling into the air. He was so thrilled he almost forgot that he needed to keep the wings in motion to keep him aloft. This was fantastic. He felt like he belonged up there, that there was something… some place he was trying desperately to reach. Out of his periferal vision he could see the tips of his own grand wings, their too pure white color catching the sun and setting rainbow glares in the tips of the bottom feathers.
The storm began to die the further in the air he went, replaced by beaming sun and a wafting warm breeze however below him it still raged. He wanted to push it to its extent, go higher until his body could no longer stand it but it seemed the higher he went, the more perfect everything seemend to be. Curiously, he felt it too, inside him. He felt warm, radiating from his core and spreading out through his skin and it was such a pleasant feeling he shut his eyes and embraced it along with the flow of air brushing by his face. The sun seemed to disappear from the sky and transport itself into his core, allowing him to soak in it and spread beams throughout the sky. But the moment would not last. Of course, it could not. The peace and silence was disturbed abruptly by the splitting of the clouds and what sounded to the boy like a loud crack of thunder. But though he did not know much, he did know that thunder was not tangible, and it certainly wasn't supposed to send a jolt of pain running down his back. His movement faultered for a moment but he quickly regained his rhythm. With his right hand he gripped at his other arm, trying hard to squeeze away the pain that had just surfaced there. His knuckes were growing white and numb which came in great contrast to the scarlet liquid that stained his palm when he removed his hand.
The crack shot out again, snapping him back into focus. He dropped about a foot, straining his wings to stay aloft amongst the commotion but the new streak of pain he felt in his back and down his arm made it increasingly difficult to continue to stroke his wings and they began to flush with icy frost. His body would not listen to him now, only one wing violently and frantically trying to keep himself from plummeting back down the earth while the cold from his other began to spread up his back and through his arms. His heart threatened to burst out of his chest, and the clouds swarmed together around him, burning his eyes and choking him with vapor.
His lungs were growing heavy and the adrenaline was wearing thin. He was tired but he was strong and though the thought of letting himself fall through the sky was so appealing he fought with great effort to slowly sink, but as he dropped altitude his already not cooperating body refused to do anything but go limp and plummet through the whirling sky. He closed his eyes and tipped back his head, allowing and accepting his body to fall, hoping just before he blacked out that he would not feel the impact.
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Blaine did not have any indication that anything was different, or rather that anything for him was about to change. It had just been another day in Westerfield, Ohio, splintering hot and lazy, and his small shit-on-wheels of a car was suffocating as usual. He preferred to drive alone, having spent too much time with his fellow however endearing but overexcitable and frankly too much to take warblers. That was probably one of the reasons why Blaine liked those glee club competitions so much. Sure, he loved to sing ,the solos were great, and he loved his friends, but a guy needs time to reign in his own thoughts once in a while and make sense of the mess threatening to explode in his head. The long drives to regional's and sectionals did that for Blaine. The long stretch of the highway, zooming past empty grasslands, the occasional home, and open skies put Blaine at ease.
He wasn't running. No, he told himself he would stop running, Dalton was the last stop and its not like he could or rather would turn back. Why would you run away from safety, community? One doesn't miss the torture, ridicule, and abuse that he went through. But that doesn't mean that a day goes by where Blaine doesn't wonder how he would have been different if he had stayed, how it would have changed him; if he had been strong. It's not regret, its his own self criticism, always there, aways judging. It dictated to him with every action he took, however simple. It criticized his choices until he could no longer sleep at night If he was running from anything, he was running from himself.
And so he drove along the highway that would eventually bring him to the competition where he might find it easier to plaster a smile onto his face and let himself escape into the bright lights and music. Still, as his mind drifted along the road, the constant jerking of the beater thankfully bringing him back to focus so that he did not drive the car off the road and into a tree or something. But for some reason he found himself stopping, the jerking motions of the car becoming more frequent and violent until it came to a complete dead stop in the middle of the otherwise empty highway. Well that's fucking great.
"Stupid piece of crap…" Blaine muttered to himself as he begrudgedly got out of his car. He kicked the wheel and the car jerked forward an inch and then settled with a groan. With a sigh blaine shook out his shoulders and moved around the car towards its back bumper and braced himself to push the beater off the road. As if to add to his ever declining mood the sky above him grew dark and hazy, the black clouds growing closer in the distance and the prelude to a rainshower just starting to be felt thick in the air.
Storms were not unusual in Ohio, the dryness of the air and frankly its spot on the good ol' map kind of guaranteed the occasional tornado or rainstorm but they weren't frequent, especially this time of the year. He managed to maneuver the car a little off to the side of the road. Blaine patted his pockets in search for his phone, he was definitely going to be late and the other warblers would never forgive him if their lead vocalist went missing. Too much damn responsibility. When he realized that his phone was not in the pockets of his Dalton uniform pants he looked to the car and saw the iphone sitting on the drivers seat, along with his keys that were still in place on the ignition.
"Just my fuckin' luck!" He muttered to himself and violently kicked the front wheel of the car, sending it lurching forward and stopping once again. Blaine turned once again to the sky , the clouds had drawn closer in a fraction of a second, now winding and whipping around one another menacingly. "oh just screw it"
there was no way in hell that he was making it to the competition, it was probably already half way over and he no doubt had a million frantic messages buzzing in his phone from Wes and David. But that didn't mean a damn thing because he had no phone, no car, and no idea where he was anyway, so he did what he told himself every day he would stop doing. Blaine ran.
He closed his eyes, running in no direction at all, just running. And now his thoughts were so close to catching up on him that he ran faster, sprinting through the road and soon becoming drenched in the sudden onpoar of rain. But it felt good, refreshing. His curls began breaking free of their confinement and stuck to his face in every direction, he was completely blinded but he considered himself that way before so it made no difference. It made no difference which way he ran, so long as he didn't stop. Oh god he didn't want to stop. At that moment he wanted nothing more than his legs to never stop carrying him farther and farther away, the rain to never stop beating on his face, this feeling to never go away no matter how horrible and empty it felt. Because at least he was feeling something real.
Lights; swirling underneath his eyelids, blazing into his brain and shocking his nerves. Bright lights and thunder and dust. They all came together in a sudden burst of energy that knocked Blaine off his feet and lost within a cloud of nothingness. For a split second, Blaine managed to open his eyes, seeing nothing but flashes of color amongst a cloud grey, random debris, and… and a figure. Elongated above his head,back arched and hovering steadily amongst the wreckage.
He could not hear himself when he screamed. He let it all out as all he could do was sit helpless in the middle of it all, thankful to not have been picked up and tossed around like a rag doll as everything else around him seemed to be. Swirling, everything was swirling and grey and dark and damp and his thoughts were gone, and all he was was his voice and agony; Just pure surpressed anguish pouring out of his core and raining back down on his face. As debris whipped around him, he was subjected to blows that cut him deep and bruised him but in that moment he could hardly feel it. It all built up and he needed to release it. He was scared and confused and he was lost and he was feeling everything at once. He was feeling all the anger, all the resentment, all the sadness. He felt the scorn and the judgement and the criticsm. But he also felt joy, the freeness, the extacy. The storm was becoming a sanctuary.
And with every inaudible, pained shout that escaped from within him, they grew weaker. The storm did it for him now. It roared and for a moment Blaine thought it was coming from a place within him, watching himself shrink into a lamb. It insentified, swirling faster than ever, and suddenly an earthshaking boom that caused Blaine to fall back flat on the literally juping earth; and then within a second, it was suddenly quiet. His eyes remained shut tightly and his eyes threatened to roll back into his head. The pain, the physial pain, he all felt it now. There was a gash in his left sleeve, and upon peeling the tattered fabric away weakly with his other arm, there was a line of red mirrored on his arm. He hissed at the sensation of the fabric falling back down on top of it.
His leg was battered pretty badly as well, large and purple. He had been remarkably lucky. He tried to move but found it impossible. Maybe… maybe he would just…. Sleep.
Blaine allowed his weight to pull him back onto the pavement and his eyelids slide heavily over his eyes.
(A/N: this is clearly kind of a set up chapter. The two meet in the next chapter. But things start rolling in ch.3. I hope you stick around long enough also sorry about the blaingst. Its just so easy haha but you will also get backstory. not in the next chapter but down the line)