author's notes: wrote this for everentwined to cheer her up a bit. inspired by this poem by Lang Leav. i'm not sure about the formatting, but there you go.
SPENT ALL MY CHANGE ON YOU;;
Sebastian, 8:51pm:
Heard about what happened with Hummel. You okay, killer?
Blaine, 8:55pm:
Fine.
Blaine, 8:56pm:
Don't really want to talk about it.
He sighs and stretches out long on his bed, his laptop opened to Blaine's Facebook page where his relationship status had changed from 'in a relationship' to 'single' a few days ago. He'd watched every lament and condolence roll in like clockwork, all the New Directioners, some of the Warblers, names he didn't recognize. They all said the same thing, you guys were so cute together, I'm so sorry for you both, without any consideration for what Blaine, himself, might be feeling. He had no idea what happened, Facebook didn't elaborate on the specifics, but he could easily imagine the kicked puppy look on Blaine's pretty face, the downtrodden slouch in his shoulders. Blaine Anderson made for a good-looking kicked puppy, but he'd rather see that change.
But clearly he shouldn't try to help people through their problems, ever.
Blaine, 9:10pm:
But thanks for asking.
Sebastian, 9:12pm:
I'm here if you need to talk to anyone anti-Hummel.
.
.
It's two weeks later and he'd snuck into McKinley High for their rendition of Grease, easily blending into the crowd without his signature Dalton look. Kurt was there, clutching hands with Rachel Berry while Blaine 'Teen Angel' perfected that kicked puppy look like he wore it every day – for a second or two he was convinced Blaine might burst into tears on stage, but he should've known the ex-Warbler to be far more professional than that.
He didn't stick around for any other pleasantries, he saw what he needed to see, but he's more than a little surprised to see a text from Blaine light up on his iPhone close to midnight.
Blaine, 11:22pm:
Is your offer still on the table?
He smirks, enamored by how downright film noir Blaine manages to sound even in his texts.
Sebastian, 11:23pm:
To talk? Of course.
Blaine, 11:25pm:
It was a mutual break-up. We decided together.
Sebastian, 11:25pm:
But?
Blaine, 11:28pm:
I thought it would be easier this way.
Sebastian, 11:30pm:
There's no such thing as an easy break-up.
Blaine, 11:31pm:
What do you know about break-ups?
He settles back against the headboard and stares at the text for a long time, no different than any of the accusations thrown at him over the years – he's never had a boyfriend in the strictest sense of the word, he's never been in a long-term relationship, but he's dated.
Somehow he never thought he'd hear something like this from Blaine.
Blaine, 11:40pm:
I'm sorry.
Blaine, 11:42pm:
Sebastian?
Sebastian, 11:45pm:
No. You're right. It's just something people say.
Blaine, 11:47pm:
Don't do that. You've always been honest with me.
Blaine, 11:50pm:
So be honest with me now…
It's the '…' at the end of Blaine's text that makes him pause, the clear prompt for him to open up the anti-Hummel propaganda he's kept under lock and key for almost two years now and he'd hoped to use one day. Strangely, now that the day has arrived, he doesn't really want to.
His fingers hover over his phone's screen for a long time, typing in words he deletes immediately, jabs at Kurt and his gay face, at how he never treated Blaine the way he should be treated, but how is that helpful right now? He thinks about Blaine, and how their relationship started, the obvious flirtation, the schoolboy blush in Blaine's cheeks, the texts they sent each other over the course of several weeks. If this is a chance to get all that back, he refuses to ruin that first chance he gets.
So he choses moderation, with his own personal brand of truth.
Sebastian, 11:59pm:
I think he was your first love. Your first kiss. Probably your first time. I think it's going to hurt, for a while, at least, before you start realizing you don't think about him every day. I think you'll heal and find someone you deserve. I think you're better off without him.
He watches as minute by minute goes by without a response. His thumb hovers over the letter 'S' for 'sorry', but he's not sorry at all, not in the least, Blaine asked for honesty and that's what he got, a platter of truth served up by one Sebastian Smythe. Blaine knows what to expect from him.
Blaine, 12:15pm:
Thank you.
Blaine, 12:15pm:
Goodnight, Sebastian.
.
.
Sebastian, 5:03pm:
You're not coming back to Dalton, are you?
Blaine, 5:05pm:
I'm sorry.
Sebastian, 5:06pm:
It's okay. I knew it was a long shot.
Blaine, 5:08pm:
I almost did. Cleared out my locker and everything. But I can't run away from my problems. I love the Warblers, and I love Dalton, but I can't keep going back and forth between schools because it's convenient.
Sebastian, 5:09pm:
You'll have to buy me coffee sometime.
Blaine, 5:10pm:
How do you figure?
Sebastian, 5:11pm:
Do you have any idea how hard it was to convince Hunter to choreograph a Kelly Clarkson song?
Blaine, 5:12pm:
You did that for me? :) I'm touched.
Sebastian, 5:14pm:
So. Coffee.
Blaine, 5:15pm:
Okay. I'll let you know.
.
.
Blaine, 9:42am:
How about that coffee?
The text arrives in the middle of a two-hour French class, but like always he's resigned himself to a corner in the back row, finishing or starting other homework that requires a lot more brain cells than this class does – unlike his previous teacher, Miss Baudrillard has the courtesy to give him extra assignments from time to time, so he doesn't die of boredom, but given his flawless pronunciation and mastery of the language, he's often forced to sit through the same lessons as his peers. Blaine's text comes as a welcome distraction.
If he's not mistaken, Blaine's currently taking chemistry, which leaves him to wonder if he's bored too, or just really eager to see him.
Sebastian, 9:44am:
When and where?
Blaine, 9:47am:
12:15, pick me up at school. Unless you're worried about catching that public school stench ;)
Sebastian, 9:50am:
Careful, Anderson, people might think you like the way I talk ;) I'll be there.
It feels like old times, sitting across from the shy schoolboy at a table in the Lima Bean, a medium drip coffee cupped between Blaine's hands, his own spiked with some Courvoisier, and conversation that comes natural to them. They talk about the Warblers' win at Sectionals after Marley? Marie? took a tumble on the stage and Hunter's relentless rehearsal schedule, about McKinley's Glee club all but being over, but Finn Hudson keeping them all going, about college acceptance letters and all the possibilities stretched out in front of them.
And when Blaine starts talking about focusing on himself and his own dreams, not anyone else's, he gets it, he really does, so he respects that as best he can.
.
.
Sebastian, 10:12am:
Scandals? Tonight?
Blaine, 10:15am:
Didn't I already agree to that at dinner last night?
Blaine, 10:16:
I'll be the designated driver.
Sebastian, 10:17:
We could get a cab. It's not my fault you can't hold your liquor.
Blaine, 10:18:
You're right, it's not. But I'm not drinking.
Blaine, 10:19:
Doesn't mean I won't be dancing ;)
.
.
Sebastian, 7:01pm:
What are you wearing?
Blaine, 7:05pm:
Sebastian…
Sebastian, 7:05pm:
I love how you can make '…' look ominous in a text.
Blaine, 7:07pm:
I'm fully clothed thank you very much.
Sebastian, 7:08pm:
Spoilsport.
Blaine, 7:10pm:
I'm at one of my dad's work functions.
Sebastian, 7:11pm:
I know…
Blaine, 7:15pm:
Cute. But I really need to keep a straight face.
Sebastian, 7:16pm:
That's a skill some of us have already perfected.
Blaine, 7:17pm:
Bullshit ;)
.
.
"How come we never talk to each other on the phone?" he asks before Blaine has the chance to get a word in. For some reason he finds himself sitting on the floor nursing a terrible headache, a bottle of water next to him, leaning back against a chest of drawers.
"We talk on the phone all the time," Blaine says. "Just not like this."
"Why is that?"
"Is there a reason for this conversation?"
"Is there a reason for any of our conversations?"
Blaine's wholesome laugh resounds over the line. "We're friends."
"Well, there you go."
"Are you okay?"
"I'm hung over." He closes his eyes. "I don't trust my fingers to type anything."
"And we both know how you are about spelling."
A smile curls around his lips, and anyone looking at him now, knees drawn up to his chest, sitting on the floor, might think him the biggest tool in the box. More like a love-sick puppy, lately.
"What are you doing?"
"Staring at my socks. I wore them inside out."
He laughs, imagining Blaine in much the same position as him, staring at socks covered in bowties, or lollipops, or something similarly Blaine. "Dork."
.
.
Blaine, 6:33am:
I slept with Kurt.
The text wakes him up on a Sunday morning, and at first he's entirely convinced it's a joke. Blaine and Kurt broke up almost six months ago, they haven't seen each other in all that time and barely speak, mostly because they both keep busy. But if it's meant to be a joke, and Blaine hopes he'll reply with one of his sarcastic comments, he's in for a rude awaking.
Because this isn't funny.
Sebastian, 6:34am:
You what?
Blaine, 6:35am:
At Mr Schue's wedding. It just happened, I can't explain it.
He stares at this text even longer. Blaine's not joking; he slept with Kurt. He sits up in bed, chasing away whatever sleep still clogged up his head and keeps going back and forth between the texts. Blaine told him about the wedding and how everyone was going to be there, including Kurt, but –
In his selfish desire he never considered this, that Blaine's first love, his first kiss, his first time, might come back and pull him back in. Selfishly he thought that all these months spent bonding over coffee and movies and books meant something, that he and Blaine could be something more, that he'd become the kind of boy Blaine deserved.
He never thought Blaine would be the one disappointing him.
Blaine, 6:40am:
Sebastian?
Blaine, 6:45am:
It was a one-time thing, it won't happen again. I don't miss him. I don't need him.
Blaine, 6:50am:
Sebastian, please talk to me.
Blaine, 6:55am:
He's dating someone in New York.
Blaine, 7:10am:
I'm sorry.
.
.
Blaine, 8:15am:
Sebastian, you can't ignore me forever.
Blaine, 9:27am:
Please, don't do this. I didn't tell you to drive you away.
Blaine, 10:45pm:
I told you because we're honest with each other.
.
.
Sebastian, 2:32am:
What do you want me to say?
Blaine, 2:35am:
Why aren't you sleeping?
Sebastian, 2:36:
Don't avoid the question. What do you expect from me? I didn't need to know that, I could've lived happily without ever knowing about you and Kurt.
Blaine, 2:37:
I couldn't have.
Sebastian, 2:38:
What the hell is that supposed to mean?
Blaine, 2:39:
I don't know, Sebastian. I just don't want to lose you as a friend.
Sebastian, 2:40:
As a friend? Or something more?
When Blaine's reply doesn't come immediately he tosses his phone to the foot end of the bed and turns on his stomach, hoping sleep will find him soon and erase this nightmare of a reality. Of course there's a point to having Blaine in his life as a friend without the possibility of that ever becoming more, but he thought that's what they were heading towards. How could he have misread that so completely?
Blaine, 3:17:
Both.
.
.
Blaine, 10:15am:
Sebastian, I love you. I know it's a lot but in case I don't get to say it again. I love you. You've been amazing these past few months. You've been my friend and a pain in the ass and way too flirtatious, but I love you.
It's ten in the morning and he should be focusing on Advanced Algebra, but after the initial shock has worn off, after he's read and reread Blaine's text more times than he can count, after he's had an initial laugh about the whole thing, Blaine's words truly sink in.
In case he doesn't get to say it again? What did that mean?
Blaine already confessed he would be interested in being something more, but the two of them weren't talking all that much these days, so where did this come from? Blaine wouldn't confess to being in love with him in a text.
Blaine, 10:16am:
I love you so much.
Sebastian, 10:18am:
Blaine, what is this?
Sebastian, 10:23am:
Blaine?
Sebastian, 10:27am:
Blaine, you're freaking me out.
When Blaine doesn't reply he comes up with a half-assed excuse to get out of class, but he wants some privacy for whatever's going on. He's more than a little worried something might've happened, maybe one of Blaine's friends got hurt, maybe something happened at McKinley.
Once he's opened his Twitter feed on his phone he sinks down to the floor in the middle of the hallway, which are luckily abandoned for the time being.
There was a shooting at McKinley High.
A shooting.
At McKinley.
Sebastian, 10:33am:
I just heard, are you okay?
Sebastian, 10:38am:
I'm coming over there.
Sebastian, 10:45am:
Blaine, please.
The drive takes too long, every red light winds him tighter, every stop sign starts his heart beating faster until all he sees is red, a dark angry red, because he's been such an idiot, and he should have told Blaine about his feelings so much sooner.
Now he prays he still gets the chance.
Sebastian, 10:59am:
I love you too, killer. I always have.
It takes him a little under an hour to get to Lima, another ten minutes before he hits the school, the area swamped with police and SWAT, with students who weren't in the school, with worried parents and friends. He doesn't know what happened, no one seems to have an answer, he doesn't know if anyone got hurt or if everyone will make it out of the school okay. Tears sting at his eyes at the thought of losing Blaine, of never seeing him again, never getting another text, never having late-night conversation about bowties or superheroes.
His heart races until it threatens to escape from his chest, it doesn't stop until he locates Blaine outside of the school, entangled in a group hug with Sam and Tina, until his eyes catch his across the bustling parking lot. Blaine mutters something to his friends without taking his eyes off him, and stumbles his way through the crowd, as if his legs haven't fully realized he's standing on solid ground – he can't move a muscle because the ground beneath his feet hasn't felt solid for close to an hour now and if he takes a step he'll sink to the cold concrete and stay there.
Blaine crashes into his chest and folds his arms around him, while he curls around the frail and helpless boy like his life depends on it. His hands feel down Blaine's back to check he's all there, before Blaine buries his face in his neck, and starts crying.
"I'm sorry," Blaine cries. "I'm so sorry."
"Don't be sorry." He pulls back and looks Blaine in the eye, a hand cupped around one of his cheeks. "People mess up, Blaine, I know that better than anyone."
Blaine's hands claw into his shirt. "I meant what I said. What I t-typed. I love you, Sebastian. I've been such an idiot."
"Stop." He kisses Blaine's temple and pulls him closer again, not planning on ever letting go. "Stop." And he could say so many things, how they're both idiots, how he's been a complete fool for Blaine from the moment they met, how the thought of Kurt might sting for a long time to come, but that's not important right now. So he says, "I love you too," and kisses Blaine's hair. "I love you too," he says, and holds on for dear life.
.
.
"What are you wearing underneath that gown?"
"Bas…" Blaine groans over the line, but from his vantage point in the auditorium he can clearly see his boyfriend smiling, and he'd tease Blaine about being able to convey '…' with his voice, but he's too busy nursing the smile that curls around the corners of his mouth.
"Just saying, killer, I could pick that ass out from anywhere."
"Anywhere? Where are you?"
"Where do you think, handsome?" he asks, watching as Blaine searches the crowd for him. "I'm watching my boyfriend graduate."
And then suddenly Blaine's eyes catch his, a wide smile breaking across his face. "You came!" Blaine shouts, and jumps up and down a few times.
"Of course I came."
Blaine doesn't release his eyes. "I'm glad you're here."
"Just so you know, killer, I plan on having my way with you tonight."
"Is that so?"
"Oh yeah." He lowers his voice so no one else hears him add, "I plan on kissing you really slow, while fucking you really fast."
"Sebastian," Blaine chastises right away, and looks away.
But it's worth it just to see Blaine flash as red as his graduation gown.
#
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