Just finished the epilogue and will be posting on tumblr tomorrow, so I decided to start posting this here, too. I'll be updating very regularly since this is complete (the only problem is that I don't log in here every day, so I might forget sometimes. I apologise in advance).
Blaine woke up as the sun rose higher into the sky. He supposed that he should be grateful for it, otherwise the crisp fall day might get a bit too cold and he wasn't prepared for that yet. But he couldn't help being a little annoyed that the sun's bright rays had interrupted the first really restful sleep he'd gotten in months.
Despite having been roaming the streets of Lima and the surrounding towns for close to a year, Blaine had never been to Hoyt Park before. But when he stumbled upon it in the early evening yesterday, he'd known it was going to be the perfect spot to sleep, at least for a while. Beyond the playground equipment and the tennis and basketball courts, across the soccer field, there was a small band of trees. Beyond those even, there was a small river (although, perhaps creek was a better word for it). It wound around the park and beyond, bubbling gently over small stones. There was a bridge over a wider section of the water and a small path alongside it. But what Blaine decided was his perfect place was hidden in there.
The dirt path didn't extend to the water's edge directly next to the bridge; the banks were too steep. Instead, they followed the tree line for about ten feet before slowly cutting down a much gentler slope where the ground evened out. In the pathless area on the right of the bridge, there was a good five feet or so of flat ground covered in soft grass. The bank was tall enough that Blaine could sit up and remain unseen. And the bridge provided cover in case it began to rain, or if Blaine just needed to store his bag for a moment.
All in all, it was perfect.
The grass was a more comfortable bed than Blaine had slept on since leaving home, and the slightly damp ground cushioned his tired body and heavy head. The boy had barely had time to fish his blanket out of his bag last night before he was asleep.
The water in the stream was clear as it bubbled past Blaine's head. He knew not to drink it, he wasn't that stupid, but he figured that it couldn't hurt to clean himself up a bit there.
Hiding under the cover of the bridge, Blaine stripped himself of his layers – boxers, jeans, sweatpants, and two pairs of socks adorned his lower half, while he wore an undershirt, a long-sleeved shirt, a sweatshirt, and a rain jacket on top. He had another pair of jeans, a few extra socks and boxers, another t-shirt, and a sweater all packed in his duffel bag, but he was saving those for when the weather got really cold. As it was, Blaine only wore the sweatpants and sweatshirt at night. He didn't want to be completely shocked when the cold arrived, like he had been last winter.
Blaine used his undershirt and a bar of soap to wash the grime of the past few days off of his body. It was cold, but it felt refreshing to actually be clean – even if it was creek water.
Blaine felt about a million times better once he'd dried off, even if he was putting on the same dirty clothes that he'd been wearing for almost six days straight. Maybe he'd even splurge a bit and go to the laundromat today – he usually only went every other week, or less often if he didn't smell too bad.
He packed his blanket, soap, sweatshirt, and sweatpants into his duffel bag and checked to make sure that the rest of his possessions were still there, too. He didn't have too much, but what he did have was precious.
There were a few pictures, mostly of him and his family from when he was barely three years old. He had a few beat-up paperback Goosebumps books, two cans of soup, a loaf of white sandwich bread that was so loaded with preservatives it probably wouldn't ever start to mould, three chocolate chip granola bars, a half-empty water bottle, a dead cell phone, a toothbrush, a knit hat, and thin gloves. He also had a beat up pleather wallet in his back pocket that was home to a five dollar bill and three crumpled ones. He had a pocket full of change, too, that came from kind strangers who walked past him on the streets.
Blaine swung the bag over his shoulder and began to scramble up the bank and towards the centre of Lima.
Going to the laundromat was, oddly, one of Blaine's favourite activities. It was a 24 hour facility, so once it got to the really cold winter months, he could occasionally get away with sleeping inside the building. During the day, he could sit with his back to the dryers and enjoy the gentle hum and warm vibrations that soothed his exhausted body. He would curl up on the floor with one of his books and read, sometimes staying there for a few hours after his clothes had finished washing and drying.
But today, after Blaine's refreshing night spent at the creekside, he decided to cut his visit short. As soon as all his clothes were finished washing, he changed in the tiny bathroom in the back. Then he left to roam the streets.
Blaine had repeated this same process too many times to count since he'd left home. It was really disheartening after a few hours, so he could never go out two days in a row, and it was best to go out on days when he was feeling cheerful.
He would walk into every store and restaurant on whichever street he chose and ask if they were hiring at the moment. Most managers said no. Those who were hiring might ask for a resume, at which time Blaine would shake his head and walk out. Very few would pull out a hard copy of the job application and hand it to the boy. He would fill it out as best he could and turn it in, but Blaine was almost positive that all his applications ended up in the garbage.
Blaine had been living on the streets for over a year. He'd asked about well over a hundred jobs. No one ever gave him a chance.
No one wanted to hire a 17 year old high school dropout with no experience, no references, no address, and no phone number. The best Blaine could provide any potential employer with was an email address, but he was only occasionally able to check it at the library.
When Blaine stepped outside the laundromat, he looked around him, as if trying to gauge which direction might be the most promising. He took a sharp left turn and began to ask.
Four hours later, and Blaine had one application and at least twenty new rejections. He was feeling thoroughly downtrodden when he walked up to the Goodwill.
Blaine knew that he had to get new shoes at some point. His converse were about a size too small, and the rubber and canvas were separated to the point that one shoe was held together with duct tape. He definitely needed warmer shoes to deal with the upcoming Ohio winter.
Blaine browsed the racks before finding a warm pair of boots. They were light enough that he could wear them year-round, but they would definitely keep him warm in the winter.
The young black man working the register smiled at Blaine when he came up with the boots.
"Find everything okay?" the man, Julian according to his name tag, asked.
"Uh, yeah," Blaine muttered. "Yeah, I did."
Julian smiled again. Blaine was unused to people looking at him without anger or pity. "That'll be $9.26," Julian said.
Blaine's heart dropped as he thought about the bills in his wallet. He dropped them on the counter before fishing out a large handful of change and beginning to count the pennies, nickels, and dimes.
Julian watched in silence for a minute. Just as Blaine was about to declare that he didn't need the boots, Julian finally spoke.
"Don't worry about it, kid," he said.
Blaine looked up in surprise, only to see Julian pull a credit card out of his wallet. "I – I don't, no – I mean, I can – um … thank you," Blaine stuttered.
"Are you okay, kid? I don't mean to pry, but you look like you've seen better days."
"I'm fine," Blaine said, pulling the boots close to him, and just wishing that he could get out of there. "I'm managing."
"Okay." Julian didn't look totally convinced. "Just be careful, okay?"
Blaine nodded and turned to go. Just as he reached the door, he heard Julian shout.
"Wait, kid! Hold up a minute!"
Blaine stopped and turned, terrified that Julian was going to take the boots back. Instead, the man ran up to him and thrust two pieces of paper in his hands.
The first was a crisp twenty dollar bill. The second was a post-it note with a number scrawled on it.
"That's my number. If you're ever in trouble, call me."
Blaine nodded his thanks before going outside. He walked in a stunned daze until he found a bench to collapse upon.
Twenty dollars. That could buy a real meal.
He laced up his new boots and thought about his options before turning back towards the centre of town.
Blaine didn't return to his hiding place beneath the bridge until the sky was dark and stars were beginning to emerge. In his hand, he carried two thirds of a pizza – hopefully it would be enough for tomorrow's lunch and dinner. Pizza had been such a refreshing change of pace from scraps and canned food.
He pulled on the sweatshirt and sweatpants, crawled under his blanket, and puffed up his bag as much as possible to make it into a pillow. Within a few minutes, Blaine was asleep.
Four weeks later, Blaine wasn't feeling as optimistic. He was still sleeping on the creek bed, but it was no longer the nice paradise that it had seemed those first few days. Since the temperatures had begun to drop, the ground grew firm with frost, and the grass and plants shrivelled.
Despite wearing all his layers all the time, Blaine was still freezing during the day. He had barely any money left – people weren't going outside as much, so sitting on a street corner was even less fruitful than usual – and his food supplies were dangerously low.
But Blaine still dragged himself up every day, even if he saw no reason to do so anymore.
Blaine had only been in Lima since early September. It was now almost December. In those weeks, he'd explored a good deal of the town, but there was still some undiscovered territory. As soon as Blaine had exhausted all the resources this town had to offer, he would have to move on. Yet there was something inside of him that was telling him to stay. Maybe it was because he had somewhere private to stay the nights, hidden from judging eyes under the bridge in Hoyt Park. Maybe it was because he still had Julian's number, even if he never planned to use it. Maybe it was the hopeless optimist inside of him that Blaine usually tried to suppress.
Blaine packed his bag and wandered past the high school, to the part of the downtown that he still hadn't wandered. He didn't bother trying to clean up at all. He was too tired and cold to care.
He tried about seven different shops and got nothing but poorly-masked disgust. Blaine was about to give up early for the day when he saw a "Help Wanted" sign in a window down the street. The fire within was rekindled, and he hurried into the gas station across the street.
Blaine bought a cheap box of crackers with the last of his change and asked for the key to the toilet. Inside, he washed himself as best he could. When he finally emerged, Blaine felt like a new man, even if he still looked just as pathetic as before.
Blaine nervously crossed the road. He could see now that the sign hung in the window of the shop part of a garage. Not exactly his skill set at all, but he was willing to do almost anything.
The bell chimed as a blast of warm air washed over Blaine when he walked into the empty shop.
Moments later, a balding, 40 year old man emerged from what must have been the back office.
"Can I help you?" he asked, eyes narrowed slightly – whether in suspicion or confusion, Blaine wasn't sure.
"I saw the sign in your window. Do you still – I mean, are you still hiring?"
The man definitely looked surprised when he heard that. "How old are you?"
"S-seventeen."
"Shouldn't you be in school right now?"
Blaine gulped. "Sixteen's the legal age to drop out," he whispered.
"You know anything about cars?"
"Not really. My – uh, my father tried to fix one up with me a couple of years ago, but – we, uh, we never finished. But I'm willing to learn! Really, I'm a fast learner, and I'm good with working with my hands. I just really need a job."
The man's eyes raked over Blaine's body, taking inventory of the dirty layers, the duffel bag, the too-long hair, and the pinched cheeks.
Thinking he still needed convincing, Blaine spoke up again. "You don't even need to put me on payroll! You can just pay me in cash so you don't get taxed for it. And you can pay whatever. I really don't need a lot of money - $20 a day. I won't be a burden on your shop or anything."
The man nodded slowly.
"Alright, kid, how 'bout this: you work here today, and then we decide if you're going to be a good fit. Sound good?"
"That's perfect, sir. Thank you so much."
"No problem," he gruffly replied. "I'm Burt Hummel."
"Blaine Anderson."
At the end of the day, Burt walked over to where Blaine was taking inventory of the tires. The boy had been working tirelessly at the inventories for the past four hours, and making good progress, too.
"Closing time, kid," he said.
Blaine jumped slightly, obviously not having noticed the older man walking up behind him.
"You did a good job today."
Blaine ducked his head slightly, unused to praise.
"Why don't you come with me to the office so we can get you set up with some hours here."
Blaine's face lit up. "Really?"
Burt chuckled slightly. "Really."
Burt knew that there was something the boy wasn't telling him, but he could also sense that it wasn't anything dangerous. Hopefully if he proved that he was trustworthy, Blaine might open up to him.
And it was true that keeping Blaine off the books would save him a bit of hassle.
"So," Burt said as he settled in behind the desk. "I'm thinking that we'll probably need you here three or four days a week. You can take Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday, 11 to 6 each day."
Blaine nodded in agreement.
"I'm thinking we can do $8 an hour, and -"
"No, please," Blaine said. "That's too kind. I really can't take that money from you. I said before that I'm happy working for $20 a day, and I meant it."
"That's less than minimum wage, kid. That's illegal!"
"But – I know I'm totally unqualified for this job, and I'm probably doing stuff that you could handle without me. I don't want you to waste any money on me."
Burt looked down at the pleading kid and realised something. If he didn't agree, then the kid would be uncomfortable. At least if Burt played by Blaine's rules, he could keep an eye on him.
"Fine," he finally said. "$20 a day. But if you ever want a pay raise or need any extra cash, just come to me, okay?"
Blaine nodded. "Thank you."