Honestly, I didn't want to preface this with anything, but I can never seem to just start a story without opening my mouth. Haha. Welcome to How Beautiful It Is. I will admit, I am notorious for starting fics and never quite finishing, but I already have roughly fifteen chapters of this finished (though there is a large gap in the middle of two separate sets, but that will hopefully not hold anything up). That said, I intend to update every Thursday. The title was stolen from an aria of the same name from the opera The Turn of the Screw. Nothing you recognize is mine.
Also, if you happen to be one of my Looking Through Your Eyes readers... I am SO sorry for my lack of updates. This story popped into my head a while back, and I haven't been able to crank anything out for Looking since, but I am working on it. I swear. Now, that said... Enjoy!
The icy February air froze Blaine's tears to his cheeks as he sprinted up the half mile-long driveway, and the persistent breeze grated against his fingers' already dry, flaky skin as he rapped on the old, wooden door. Two minutes and a hand full of painfully bloody knuckles later, his very confused best friend peered out at him. Neither of the two said a word before the older man pulled him through the wide entryway, down a set of stairs, and into a surprisingly cozy little kitchen. Blaine waited until his host placed two steaming cups on the well-worn oak table before he spoke. "Wes."
His best friend's eyes widened at the heartbroken tone in Blaine's voice, but when he spoke, it was with an air of false cheerfulness. "Blaine. I can say first names too." Blaine didn't crack a smile. "But really, B. We've been friends for years. I know everything. Is this a Kurt issue? A parent issue? Or something else?"
"Wes," he answered in that same, choked tone. "She's pregnant."
"She who?" The look of confusion painting Wes' face slowly morphed into one of frightened comprehension. "No... Please tell me you don't mean the she."
"What other she would it be, Wes?" Blaine groaned. "I have slept with exactly one she in my entire life. I never thought- That night wasn't supposed to happen. This wasn't supposed to happen."
"How'd you find out?" Wes asked, his voice sympathetic.
Blaine thrust his phone into the older boy's hand. He still hadn't closed the message. "I need to talk to you," Wes read aloud. "She told you through text?"
"Keep reading," Blaine mumbled, his eyes fixated on a table.
"You don't want to talk to her; sleeping with her was a mistake; you were drunk and just wanted to feel close to someone; you ruined a really important, serious relationship; blah, blah, bl- Holy hell. Well, that's one way to do it." The older boy frowned down at the picture of a familiar, unmanicured hand holding the positive pregnancy test. The image was still vividly ingrained in Blaine's mind - the baby blue linoleum floor; the white marble vanity; the pale fingers, slightly blurry from their trembling; and clearest of all, the distinct pink plus sign. "What did you say to her?"
"I didn't," Blaine mumbled, still refusing to meet Wes' eyes. "I couldn't."
"Blaine." In that one word, Wes' voice completely shifted. No longer was he Blaine's surprised, sympathetic best friend. This was the voice of Warbler Wes, the no- nonsense council member. For many Warblers, it was the only Wes that existed, but it was a side Blaine rarely saw outside the confines of their rehearsal space. "Text her. Call her. Do something. You will not leave her alone in all this. You are not that guy."
"I know," Blaine grumbled, properly chastised. "What do I even say?"
"I don't know, B, but you have to say something." Soft, friendly Wes was back. "Let her know that you'll be there through this, that you're not going to run out. You aren't going to run out, are you?"
Blaine's head snapped up, and his eyes then fixated on Wes, anger building behind them. "Of course not. Damn it, Wes. You know I wouldn't do that."
"But she doesn't," his friend countered with a slight smirk. "Just text her back. Then we can talk or go kill zombies and pretend this isn't happening."
With a silent nod, Blaine glanced at the messages again. Beneath the picture, two one-line messages waited for him. "No, we need to talk," followed twenty minutes later by, "Please answer me." A wave of guilt rolled over him as he saw a third, waiting unread beneath them. "This wasn't just my mistake. Please don't pretend you're not involved."
Still full of doubt and confusion, the teen opened a new message:
To: Elli C.
This is just as much my fault as it is yours. Meet tomorrow after classes at the Lima Bean. We'll figure this out.
Her reply was instantaneous, as if she'd been staring at her phone, awaiting his reply. Guiltily, Blaine realized that it probably wasn't a far cry from the truth.
From: Elli C.
I will see you then. Thank you, Blaine.
"No! No, no, no, no- Damn it!" Wes' character fell to his death, a trio of zombies closing in instantly on the virtual bloody corpse, and a glowing, GAME OVER, filled the screen, illuminating the dark basement bedroom. "Dude! Where were you?"
In the two hours Blaine had been there, they'd had this discussion five times. Wes would die due to Blaine's lack of cover, Blaine would apologize for his inattention, and the game would restart within five minutes, only to repeat the cycle. "Sorry. I got distracted again. Next game will be better."
"No. Enough is enough," Wes exclaimed this time, evident frustration oozing from his voice. "Obviously, shooting at and feeding your best friend to zombies isn't enough to solve this problem, so we're going to have to talk about it."
"Just start the game, Wes."
"Just start the game, Wes," his friend mimicked. "You haven't been playing the game. Something other than zombies is eating your brain, and we both know what it is."
The controller slipped from Blaine's fingers and onto the floor with a carpet-dulled thud. "I am so stupid."
"You made a mistake," Wes stated, as if it weren't the end of Blaine's world.
"A mistake is forgetting to call someone back or leaving the seat up," argued Blaine miserably. "I cheated Wes. I was so insecure about whether he loved me that I got drunk, hooked up with someone I'm not even attracted to, and got her pregnant. I hurt him. There's a kid coming into this world who is almost guaranteed to have a screwed up life in one way or another. This is so much more than a mistake."
With a highly exaggerated roll of his eyes, Wes quickly agreed. "Okay, it's more than a mistake. You've screwed everything up, your life is over, your kid is going to hate you, you'll never find love again, and you will die alone at age eighty-two in a nursing home where your cruel, uncaring attendant has you entirely convinced you're a farm animal. Is that what you want to hear?"
"Yes," Blaine pouted, unable to contain the small smile elicited by his friend's sarcasm. It last only a second. "I just don't know how this happened."
"Well, when a man is sexually frustrated and finds a woman who will- Ouch!" Blaine's foot connected soundly with his friend's ribs across the couch. "My point is that you know exactly how this happened, physically and emotionally. It's not about the past because you already know the why and how of that. You need to figure out what comes next. Given everything that's happened, if you had your say, where would you be in five years?"
"With Kurt, in New York," Blaine answered instantly.
"Okay," Wes sighed, Warbler-leader voice rearing its ugly head. "Right now, you and Kurt aren't speaking. So to begin, how are you going to fix that?"
"When I texted him today, before I came here, he told me to stop texting and calling him because he can't handle my apologizing right now. He said I owe him the chance to think and breathe without me trying to shove sorrys down his throat, and he's right. If he doesn't call me, I will talk to him about all of this during his spring break."
"Alright," Wes answered briskly. "That is the Kurt issue as resolved as it can be. Now for the bigger issue. Elli and the baby. Tell me again, but in more detail. Where do you see yourself in five years?"
Closing his eyes, Blaine tried to picture it. In his mind's eye, he could see it all: the small, intricately decorated flat in a less-than-elegant neighborhood; Kurt's interior design genius evident everywhere, from the pale blue striped walls to the designer-worthy handmade curtains; a framed photo on the end-table with the happy couple and their wedding party grinning up at the camera; and a vocal grey tabby cat rubbing up against their legs the moment they walked in. Blaine would be home first, out early from the final classes of his senior year; Kurt would walk in later to a homemade dinner, excitedly discussing what he believed to be a successful audition for an off-Broadway show. They wouldn't have everything yet, but they would be happy together, maybe even to the point of considering bringing a new life into their little world.
"So you see yourself having kids," Wes noted kindly, his earlier sarcasm instantly dissolved by Blaine's raw, tender description. "Do you see yourself having a little one before that? I mean, now that there is one, do you- Do you want it there?"
His eyes still closed, the vision changed slightly. Coloring books and stuffed animals littered the floor, and little fingerprints blurred each face in the photo from sticky fingers pointing and asking again and again, "Who that?" The wine glasses from their homemade meal were replaced by ceramic coffee cups proclaiming, 'I 3 My Daddies,' and, 'World's Greatest Dad,' and instead of rubbing against their legs, their slim grey kitten darted under the couch at the sound of little footsteps bursting through the door. His handsome husband would trudge in smiling behind a dark, curly-haired toddler, who would run to Blaine screaming, "Daddy! Daddy! Look what I made today!"And Blaine would look and admire it before placing it on the already-covered refrigerator door. Having already survived the baby blues once, the pair might be considering bringing a second little bundle of joy into their home as well. "I- Yeah. I mean, I know it would be a hard way to go, but... I would rather know what happened than not, I think, and I would definitely rather it be alive for things to happen. Obviously, if I really had a say, this wouldn't be happening now at all; I would rather be out of college and married and adopting a little one who needs a loving home. But as it is..."
"You want her to have this baby," Wes said, slightly awed. "You genuinely want to be a dad to this kid."
As Wes spoke the words, the surprising realization settled in Blaine's chest. For as quickly as he'd come to the decision, he was almost eerily certain. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess I do."