When you lose something you can't replace
-Fix You - Coldplay -
It is a weak smile, really, as he turns around and faces his students. Yes, he has always liked to teach and yes, he sincerely cares about his students, and his colleagues.
However, none of those students will ever fulfill him, none of his colleagues will ever truly know him, for he never shows anyone who he really is.
They've never seen his real smile, so they settle for the grin they know and they believe that grin. Often times he wonders if anyone notices how it never reaches his eyes.
He is very good at acting you see, as that was a career he once wished to pursue. So maybe the grin does reach his eyes a little bit, but no one knows that smile that would light up the room.
Or so he was told, years ago. Years ago he was told his smile could light up the room.
He misses that smile. Can you miss your own smile? Maybe you can if you know that smile will cause another smile on another ones gorgeous face.
But only that gorgeous face though, only that gorgeous face was ever allowed to see that smile that would light up the room.
He will never smile that smile for anyone but him.
Sometimes, when he is alone in his bed at night, he wonders what that gorgeous face is doing right now. He wonders if that gorgeous face is showing someone else that cute little thing his nose does when he giggles. He wonders if someone else can see the beautiful way his tongue sticks out of the corner of his mouth when he concentrates hard on something.
Often, when he is alone in bed he wonders if there is someone else causing spasms that have that flawless body contract, if someone else is causing white fluid to come out of that lovely penis, he wonders if someone else is allowed to touch the way he once was allowed to touch.
He wonders if he's been replaced and left alone with nothing but regret.
And when he wonders if someone else causes spasms through that body, if someone else can make those dirty sounds come from that gorgeous mouth, if someone else is allowed to hear the high squeals only he used to know, he imagines it.
He imagines that body he knows so well. Or possibly knew so well, he figures a lot must have changed in the past few years.
And when he imagines that perfect body he has memorized completely he touches himself, he caresses his own skin the way those slender fingers used to. He twists his nipples a little harder than the way those fingertips would, but he needs to feel it. He needs to feel that those fingers were there once, and that the past is not just a fragment of his imagination.
His hands will travel down, stroke his stomach softly through the bit of hair that's there, just the way those hands used to do that, and after a little while he'll take his erect member in his hand and he will start to pump it slowly at first, but faster and faster until he comes all over his stomach.
Never on the sheets, the sheets are pulled way down so they don't stain.
That gorgeous face could turn hellish evil if the sheets would ever stain. Never stain the sheets, he will never stain the sheets.
He will clean himself off immediately and then curl up within himself, never that other warm body to comfort him. Never those strong arms around wrapped tightly around his waist or draped lazily over his upper body.
After a less than satisfying orgasm he will always be alone. Never will it be satisfying because it's never that one person that touches him, that caresses and strokes him. It's always just his own hand and it's never enough.
The cuddles that he had grown so attached to all those years ago, they never come. He will always be by himself, curled up in a silly little ball. His arms will hug himself and he will cry. He will cry until he gets cold and then he'll merely tug the sheets back up and tightly around him, because that's the closest he will ever feel to that warm body again.
He will feel tired, but he barely ever sleeps after such an evening. Because he knows sleep will bring dreams, sometimes bad and sometimes good.
But it doesn't matter if the dreams are good or bad, he knows he doesn't want to dream because waking up to reality will always be hell. Even when he has nightmares, it will always be bettean r because he is there, the one with the gorgeous face, the perfect body and slender hands. He will be there.
So he doesn't let himself sleep, because waking up hurts worse than going through a day or two being nothing less than exhausted.
When he stays awake during the night he thinks. He reminisces and he cries. He smiles, but not that smile that lights up the room. That smile only does exist when he would be around.
He, the one that is now possibly somewhere far away, lying in some else's warm embrace.
Someone else.
He reminisces how those precious lips had promised him he'd find love in someone else.
Your future is an unwritten book, anyone can be the one.
He doesn't know though, that book is most definitely not unwritten. There isn't written much in the book, just his name.
His name is written in this empty book, engraved in this soul and burning in this heart.
His heart is lonely when he thinks about things like that, about the past and sometimes he also lets himself think about the future. Only, unlike other lonely people he doesn't ask if he will ever meet someone anew, or anyone at all.
He merely asks when the gorgeousness will be face to face with him again. For there is no one else who will ever be enough with him.
Eventually he will drift off into a light sleep, but always he will be restless.
Last night had been such a night. A soft, breezy night with the window open and the air that caressed his skin had reminded him of the way that breath used to ghost over his skin.
So as he stands in front of his class he is doing his very best to keep his eyes open, to pay attention to what his students are asking and he turns around to write homework on the board as his world collapses and rises at the same moment.
Because one of the students asks him if he ever knew this guy that is coming to the school.
There is this guy coming to the school, you see, who is on Broadway.
There is this guy coming to the school who was in the Glee Club you see, and he is your age sir, and you once told us you were in Glee Club to, sir, so do you know this guy?
Sir? Do you know Kurt Hummel sir?
Yes, Blaine Anderson's smile is most definitely weak as he turns around to face his students.