This is a oneshot, 100% a writing exercise. I know that I haven't updated any of my other fics in MONTHS and I am so incredibly sorry, it's been a difficult and trying year on a few levels and again I apologize for leaving so abruptly.
Long story short I want to start writing again, but I fear I may be a little out of practice, so that's where this comes in. Again this is a writing exercise I did with a baby plot bunny and I would really appreciate it if anyone reads it and finds any issues - grammar, flow, character etc. please feel free to message me or leave a constructively critical review and let me know. It would be so greatly appreciated. Thank you. :)
Nic xx
"Chim chim-in-ey, chim chim-in-ey
Chim chim cher-ee,
A sweep is as lucky, as lucky can be..."
Blaine sang quietly to himself as he wiped the dark soot from his damp face, both relishing and hating the burnt scent that lingered permanently on his skin. The cobblestone streets were silent and empty - save for a few stray cats that mewed and moaned from time to time. The sun was close to rising and people would soon fill the silence with their noise, but for now he was alone with only the darkness and his song for company.
"Chim chim-in-ey, chim chim-in-ey
Chim chim cher-oo…"
A light but fast clicking sounded behind him. Someone was up early. Stepping backwards out of the passing stranger's way he rubbed at his eyes with what he could only hope was a clean corner of his cloth. He blinked cautiously as the clicking grew louder, relieved when his eyes didn't burn from stray soot. Through bleary eyes he caught a glance of the stranger - tall, slim, impeccably dressed and proper. Blaine let out a quiet 'hm' to himself as he wondered what such a posh individual was doing walking the damp streets of London at night alone. With a small shrug he vowed to mind his own business, though as his eyes adjusted again he was both intrigued and amused by the passer's umbrella which seemed to be used as a walking stick, and, was that a parrot carved into the handle?
Looking up, Blaine caught a glimpse of the stranger's eyes - two emeralds trapped in an ocean.
"Good luck will rub off when I shakes hands with you."
The stranger paused in his step before resuming. Blaine took it as an invitation for conversation - an assumption he made numerous times, though his efforts all proved fruitless. No one wanted to converse with a sweep, but he was content just to try.
" G'mornin," Blaine called to the stranger, his voice chipper and bright.
"So much for minding your own business," he heard the stranger mutter.
"Pardon?" Blaine couldn't have heard what he did. Could he?
Silence. He most likely had misheard. Too much soot in his ears.
" Mornin'," he repeated to the stranger's back as he continued walking. The stranger stopped.
"Good morning," the stranger replied without turning.
"It truly is, isn't it?" Blaine smiled and wiped at his ears. "Not to hot, not to cold. Smells like spring, too." He inhaled deeply and sneezed, the soot teasing his nostrils.
"Bless you, sir." Blaine laughed heartily.
"Why thank you, kind and gentlemanly sir," with a sweeping motion of his hand he bowed low to the stranger, who scoffed in displeasure before continuing again. "My apologies, I didn't mean to offend, I just don't have many high class friends, don't quite know how to speak proper."
The stranger snorted.
"We are not friends, sir," he said as he turned, crossing his arms tightly across his chest while giving the sweep a look of such distain. The corner of Blaine's mouth involuntarily shot up at the stance.
"We both engaged in a friendly good morning greeting, and if we're both being friendly why wouldn't we be friends?"
The stranger rolled his eyes, but his lip twitched ever so slightly.
"We're acquaintances, sir. Friends converse with each other about things beyond the quality of the morning, and most likely know the name of the person they are conversing with."
Blaine blushed and stepped forward quickly, extending his hand to the stranger.
"Where are my manners, then? M'name's Blaine." The stranger glanced quickly at the blackened hand before returning his gaze to the sweep's eyes.
"You'll forgive me if I don't shake your hand."
Blaine furrowed his brow, drawing back his hand to stare at it incredulously before looking to his new friend again.
"But it's good luck to shake a sweep's hand."
"It's also incredibly filthy." Blaine grinned.
"That's where the luck comes from," he quipped as he stuck his hand out again. When the stranger only shook his head he lowered it slowly, shoulders slumping slightly. "Alright, alright. May I at least have the pleasure of knowing the name of my new friend?"
The stranger chuckled. Not a hearty chuckle, but a soft one that rang like a thousand beautiful chimes in the sweep's soot filled ears.
"Kurt," was all he said before turned to continue on his way.
"Kurt," Blaine whispered. At the sound of his name the man turned around and, with a small smile, lifted his fingertips to his lips, and blew a small, soft kiss into the wind.
Blaine watched the stranger silently turn a corner just as the sun started to peak over the rooftops, filling him with warmth. With a small chuckle he started rubbing his hands clean with the cloth.
"Or blow me a kiss, and that's lucky too."