Title: Imaginary
Prompt: The Tommy incident. You know the one I'm talking about. Blaine can be Tommy, I want more Blam.
Word count: 1154
(A/N:)
Right, so this kind of happened to me, I know the prompt makes no sense to anyone, but it is based on something that happened and my friends enjoy making me project my character flaws and mistakes onto fictional characters, in this case Sam.
Not Mine.
Sam knows his parents are having money problems. He knows that's why he's enrolling in a public school and he knows that's why they've suddenly moved to Lima. He pretends not to hear when he parents fight about it because they're so obviously trying to shelter him from all of it. Stevie and Stacy spend most of their time over at the McCullochs and Sam says he's made a few friends already and heads out to play basketball or video games as soon as his homework is done. He hasn't. He goes to the park that's far enough away that Stevie and Stacy won't show up there, the one that's almost abandoned, and he lies on his back on the old rusty merry go round. There's usually no one there but Sam because it's old and kind of falling apart and it's right on the edge of town, closer to Westerville than Lima really.
When there's a slight rustling coming from the hedge around the playground he sighs and turns his head slightly to see who is interrupting his peace. It's already well past midnight, he's not sure how late, and he doesn't want to have to go home and tell his parents he didn't end up sleeping over at Charlie's. The person turns out to be another teenage boy, about his age but smaller, barreling through one of the hedges, clearly on a mission. Sam faces the sky again, closing his eyes.
He doesn't notice the footsteps coming closer until he hears a voice, only a few feet to his left. "May I?" The boy motions to the merry go round and Sam can only nod. The boy is wearing a prep school uniform and for all that he just came running through a wooded area he looks like he just finished an extensive morning routine, hair perfectly in place and tie done up, not even slightly crooked. The boy reaches into his blazer pocket. "Penny for your thoughts?" Sam reaches up instinctively to catch the small object being flicked at him, rolling the shiny copper penny between his fingers incredulously.
He considers the absurdity of this random stranger before deciding it might be nice to talk to someone at some point and why not a random prep school boy who is leaning on one of the bars of the merry go round looking effortlessly cool in a way Sam can only dream of? "Well I guess since you've already paid and all." He mutters, looking back down at the coin. "My parents keep fighting about money and I think we're going to lose the house." It's the first time he's said it out loud and he feels less constricted, but no less depressed.
"I would say I understand, but I'm afraid it might come across as slightly disingenuous, if not downright patronizing, coming from someone wearing this blazer." He doesn't say sorry and he stated outright that he doesn't understand and somehow that is more comforting than the platitudes Sam was expecting. The boy doesn't say anything else and the silence should be uncomfortable but it just feels like the boy is waiting to take his cues from Sam, leaving it up to him if he wants to vent or deflect and change the subject or just leave.
"I'm Sam." He reaches his arm up in the boy's general direction and he manages to shake it without the angle making it weird.
The boy smiles down at him, settling back and sliding down with his back to the bar. "Blaine." He sits with his back completely straight and his legs just fold up, gracefully into the lotus position. "So tell me Sam:" Even when he leans forward, resting his chin on his hands and his elbows on his knees his shoulders don't slouch, he bends entirely at the waist. "Do you like green eggs and ham?" Sam has to snort because he knows it's not cool to quote Dr Seuss, he's done it enough times, but with Blaine's slightly raised eyebrow and smirk it probably doesn't matter what he says. He can't decide if he's thrilled someone so patently cool has decided Sam is worth his time or if he's just really jealous.
He considers just telling Blaine that he likes ham and he doesn't think food coloring would change the taste of the eggs much so yes he probably does like green eggs and ham. Quinn would probably approve of that answer. "I do not like green eggs and ham, I do not like them, Sam I am."
"You and I are going to get along, I can tell." There are sounds coming from down the street now, the poster people, Sam realizes, who plaster new posters across every available surface on Saturday mornings while the whole world is asleep, and it must be nearing five AM already. "I believe that is my cue to leave." Blaine unfurls himself and gives Sam a salute. "I will see you around Sammy; if you need me you know where to find me." He motions to the red D embroidered on his blazer and casually strolls away, dodging out through the bushes again.
Sam almost yells out that he doesn't know, but shouting would ruin the peace that still surrounds him and he knows he recognizes the blazer from one of the brochures still tucked away in a box in his room from before the move, before his parents knew how bad it was going to get.
As the sun comes up he gets to his feet slowly, brushing dried leaves off his clothes, and makes his way home. He grabs some toast off the table on his way in, greeting his parents and proclaiming himself 'beat', mumbling something about video games and too little sleep.
The D stands for Dalton, a prestigious all boys academy in Westerville. It seems like a nice school, with massive grounds and old brick buildings and Sam thinks it was his top choice when they were looking at the brochures back in Tennessee. The boys all look put together and classy and right at the center of the group picture on the last page, captioned 'The Dalton Academy Warblers', is Blaine, projecting all of his charisma through his tiny 2D counterpart.
It makes sense, Sam thinks. His mother always says he has a vivid imagination and he's been looking for someone. Realistically, what were the odds that someone as cool as Blaine would just show up out of the woodwork (pun intended), be interested in Sam of all people, and react exactly the way Sam wanted him to, wearing a uniform that reminded Sam of the safety of his old school. "If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is." He mutters to himself, his voice unconsciously dropping to imitate his grandfather's gravelly drawl. "Bit old to be making up imaginary friends aren't you Sammy boy?"
(A/N:)
So that is basically the explanation to why the default response to me saying 'I'm not that oblivious.' is 'You thought your neighbor was fictional'. To be fair I was nine and Tommy was 14 when we met (I was almost eleven when I realized he actually existed).
This is the first chapter, or possibly more accurately the prologue, but I'm not sure how long to make this. I don't think I'm going to draw it out for over a year, one; because at that point I was pretty convinced I was schizophrenic, and two; because I was nine and Sam is 14 and there is a pretty big difference there.