Blaine and Jesse had fallen into a routine over the past eight years of their relationship, both deciding to take things slow. Of course, they'd gone a little fast in the beginning, moving in together fairly soon. But after they'd settled in in New York, they both agreed to focus on enjoying each other first and foremost.
So when Jesse had proposed, it sort of came as a shock to Blaine.
It was a fairly simple event, especially for Jesse doing the proposing. The younger had been sitting at his desk, focusing on a new composition that had to be completed by the end of the week. In a typical Jesse move, he'd nuzzled his head into the crook of Blaine's neck, whispering in his ear to stop working so hard, and to just kiss him, which of course he was happy to oblige to. The box burning a hole in his pocket, he'd slipped it out mid-kiss while laying on their bed.
"Hey, Blaine?" he asked, not showing the slightest sign of what was about to happen.
"Mmm?" he mumbled lazily, lips brushing lightly against his boyfriend's neck.
"I think we should get married."
XXXXXXXXXXX
Of course Blaine had said yes. He was crazy about Jesse, and he couldn't think of a better person to spend the rest of his life with. Maybe even raise a few kids with. But in the middle of organizing the guest list, the other man had mentioned one name that stuck out. A name he hadn't been able to think of without hurting just a bit.
Santana.
Blaine knew that she wouldn't be able to come, but they sent out an invitation anyway. He wasn't surprised when the RSVP came back as a no. If he hadn't know the reason as to why, Blaine may have been a little upset. But he did know, so he couldn't really.
He was surprised though, when he received a phone call from an Ohio phone number on the night before his wedding.
It came through when he was polishing his shoes in his hotel room, Jesse's across town. His friends had been extremely supersticious, not allowing the two grooms to lay an eye on each other at all.
Putting the blackened rag aside, he answered the call with a hello, the number not showing up in his contacts?
"Polly?" came a female voice from the other side.
Even if he hadn't recognized her voice, which he did, he would've know who it was just by the nick name.
"Santana?" he asked, eyes widening in disbelief.
"Hey," she said, and he knew she was smiling on the other end of the line. "I know it's probably late and you need to get to sleep because tomorrow's the big day," she paused, continuing after a silent swallow. "I just wanted to say congratulations. You have no idea how badly I want to be there, PP. Even if you are marrying a huge dick." Blaine could practically feel her smirk seeping through the phone, a typical Santana move.
He was flabbergasted. This was unexpected. Blaine hadn't seen or heard from Santana since graduation, and he knew that she'd be exactly the same, as if she were an insect encased in amber.
"I," he began, searching for the right words to fit this situation. "I don't know what to say," he said, voice breathy. He chewed his lower lip, knowing exactly what he wanted to say now. "I miss you," was all he could manage out. "Even when you tried to pluck my eyebrows," he said through a laugh.
And there it was. The aching again. The aching that hollowed out his chest, yearning for days that had passed. Days that he would never get back.
"I miss you, too," the girl said, her voice breaking. That was a first. Throughout their nine year friendship, Blaine had only seen Santana cry a handful of times.
"I mean it, Blaine," she continued, shifting the phone from ear to ear. "We used to be so fucking close, and now I'm missing your wedding, for crying out loud. All because I'm some freaky monster. This is the one thing I can't stand about it. Being a vampire," she whispered the last word, as if someone was listening in on them. "I have to miss everything just because I still look like I'm seventeen." A sniffle was heard, and Blaine felt the corners of his eyes moisten with salty hot tears.
"Don't say that," he said, wiping the tears away with his sleeve. "It's not like you can help it. I know you'd be here if you could." Despite his attempts to stop them from falling, Blaine began to cry. Was it bad that all he wanted was for his best friend to be at his wedding? But she couldn't.
Santana would never be able to go to weddings, reunions, birthdays. Even biths themselves. Because she was trapped in her amber case, never able to break free, try as she might.
She was trapped in an endless lifespan. She could never die. But she would have to see everyone she knew and loved wither and die.
"Just know that I want you to make it work, okay?" she began, sitting down on the bottom step of her staircase in her home. "You two are nuts about each other, and I want you to be happy. That's what I want for you, Blaine. To be happy."
Falling back onto the bed, Blaine felt the hot tears fall onto his cheeks, warming the skin beneath them.
"Besides," she continued, her tone lightening a bit. "I have a feeling that you're going to have a fantastic honey moon, if you catch my drift." Blaine knew had they been talking in person, she'd have shot him a wink, then gotten out a bottle of booze so they could have one last drink together before he was a married man.
After she said that, Blaine laughed. And he laughed, and laughed, and laughed. He didn't know if it was simply just to fill the silence, because once that fell, he knew she'd have to hang up and move on, or just because he was afraid of what he'd say if he didn't laugh. And pretty soon, she was laughing, too, the musical sound coming from the pit of her stomach.
"Oh god," she managed out, out of breath from the laughing fit. "Fuck, Polly. You're really marrying him, aren't you?" Her voice had a dreamlike quality to it, as if for one moment, she was just a human girl again, one who loved weddings, and everything like it.
"Yeah," he said, thoughts moving towards the plans and everything else he and Jesse had planned. From the wedding itself, to the honeymoon, to what they'd do after. It all came easily, as if no time had passed at all, like they'd last seen each other yesterday, rather than eight years ago.
"I love you, Blaine. You know that?" she said, the call going on two hours now. It was past midnight, and Blaine needed to go to sleep.
"Yeah," he said happily. "I love you too, San."
She hung up.