Blaine's infatuation with bowties started at a young age considering, at the time, bowties were mostly worn by men over the age of fifty. It was no coincidence that at the same time, Blaine's love for the performing arts was born as well.
It all started when Mrs. Anderson asked her twelve-year-old son to help her clean out the attic. It was a rainy and windy autumn afternoon, so Blaine didn't really mind. He couldn't go outside to play with his friends, and it was better than starting on the boring social studies assignment that his sixth-grade teacher Mr. Hargraves had assigned.
After a big breakfast of pancakes and sausages, Blaine and his mom climbed up to the attic and got to work. It was a big job but Blaine had been assigned to sort through a large trunk that his mom had been keeping. While sorting what he learned was his grandfather's old clothing, Blaine found a colourful bowtie. At first he had cast it aside, not really having any interest in it; but an hour later, when Blaine had moved on to sorting through old photos, his opinion changed drastically.
The portrait of his grandfather had a majestic aura; it felt like magic in Blaine's hands. His grandfather had a smile on his face and his white curls were slicked back with something that made it look like he was wearing a helmet. Blaine's eyes were immediately drawn to the bowtie around his neck. It was a deep pumpkin orange with subtle white pinstripes drawn diagonally across the fabric - the same bow tie that Blaine had found earlier.
Blaine had never gotten the chance to meet his grandfather, but his mom always spoke highly of him – You are the spitting image of your grandpa, Blaine. You two would have been like two peas in a pod – so he had always been intrigued to know what his grandfather was really like and this picture served as a small glimpse into the man's life.
For some reason, Blaine had felt an instant connection when he looked at that picture and realized that he really did resemble his grandfather. Blaine took the bowtie in hand and felt the textured fabric beneath his fingers. He traced the edges of it as his eyes darted back and forth from the one in his hand to the image of it tucked beneath his grandfather's collar. When seeing it and feeling it wasn't enough, Blaine slid it around his neck. The feeling it gave him, even untied, was something that Blaine would end up carrying with him for the rest of his life. He felt visible. He felt secure. He felt like he had finally found himself, or at least a good starting spot to discovering the person he was meant to be.
In the coming days, Blaine scrounged the attic for more of his grandfather's bowties, coming up empty handed, which was weird because his mother said that his grandpa had worn them almost every day. He asked his father if he had any, but his dad only wore regular ties. He did know how to tie a bowtie, however, and spent an afternoon teaching Blaine. When Blaine saw the neat bow adorn his throat, he was hooked for life.
Blaine needed more. He begged his mother to buy them for him but it wasn't his birthday or Christmas or back-to-school time, so he was left with just one single bow tie, which he took to wearing basically every day. He scrounged up every coin he could find and saved his allowance but he knew that it wouldn't be enough to feed his obsession. He wanted a collection of bow ties, not just one or two; so in the weeks that followed, Blaine came up with a plan.
"Mom, can I get a job?"
Mrs. Anderson put down her coffee and lifted a brow toward her son. "Blaine, honey, you're twelve."
"I know but I just need some extra cash mom. Please?"
She hid her laughter behind her smile because her son was looking at her so earnestly. "Blaine, what on earth would a boy your age need extra cash for? Dad and I give you everything you need and a generous allowance."
"Mom, there are things I need to buy."
"Does this have anything to do with grandpa's bowtie?"
Blaine grinned at her sheepishly. "Maybe."
"Well, perhaps you'll get some for Christmas this year." She looked at her son and rustled his curls. "You are too young for a real job. We want you to concentrate on your school work and on just being a kid. But I'll keep my eyes open for any paper routes or yard cleanup around the neighbourhood."
"Okay," Blaine said, a little sullenly – because he was not too young. He was almost a man and he wanted to look the part, just like his grandpa.
As it turned out, his mom did keep an eye out and was able to score him a temporary job. Mrs. Anderson discussed it with her husband and they both agreed that a little work would do Blaine good, especially if he was so eager; besides, she did have a soft spot for her father's bowties and having Blaine carry on the tradition was something she was looking forward to – she knew Cooper never would.
"Blaine honey," she said one day as she was dishing broccoli onto his plate, "I think I have found something for you to do for the next few weeks. The pay is great considering your age."
"Really?" Amber saucers peered at her from behind a spoonful of macaroni and cheese.
"Yes, Mr. Simpson from down the street is in charge of hiring for Lima's Halloween Haunted House - you know the one that sets up every year downtown? I told him you'd be interested and he agreed. It will be every Friday night in October."
"Yes! Thank you, mom," Blaine bounced. "What am I going to do? Clean up? Sell tickets?"
"No, honey, you are going to be the resident vampire!"
XXXXX
It's been five years since Elizabeth Hummel's death. Kurt still misses her every day and he knows that it will be that way forever. For the most part, he's learned how to cope, despite his young age – and by cope, he means get by. His life isn't horrible, but with the death of his mother has come much loneliness, as well as a lot of awkward and confusing times for him.
One of the things Kurt has trouble with is connecting with his dad. He loves his dad and his dad loves him, he knows that. He has been trying hard to step into Elizabeth's shoes, but no one could take the place of his mother, not even Burt Hummel. Since his mom died especially, there has been a certain disconnect between father and son. Elizabeth had been the glue that kept their small family together. She had been the buffer between his world and his dad's world, which were very different places.
Kurt has spent a great deal of his time (between teaching himself how to sew and memorizing Broadway musical cast recordings) quietly watching and trying to get to know his dad better. At first, when his mother died, Burt had been in shock but went into auto-pilot to take care of his son. He was there when Kurt woke up in the middle of the night screaming. He was there when Kurt came home crying because other kids teased him. He put food on the table and a roof over their heads. He made sure Kurt got up in time for school and read him to bed. He covered all of the basic needs and even a little more, but Kurt knew that it was hard on his dad. He could see his eyes shift when Kurt would ask him a question that he would have otherwise asked his mom. Burt often declined Kurt's requests to have baking competitions or marathon The Sound of Music and Mary Poppins with him. Instead, Burt took him to the shop and taught him how to change a carburetor or to a local football game and taught him the rules, play by play. Kurt didn't mind this – it meant spending time with his dad and as a little boy who had just lost his mom, he would take anything he could get.
As the years moved on though, Kurt noticed that his dad became a little more withdrawn. He let Kurt be, for the most part, spending the majority of his time at the garage. By the time Kurt was ten, he was able to get himself ready for school, make his own breakfast and lunches (as well as his dad's), and make dinner three nights a week. Burt would order in twice a week and took his turn making dinner twice a week, one of which was Friday nights. This was the exception. No matter what they were doing or where they were, they would always continue on the tradition that Elizabeth had founded.
Every Friday, Burt and Kurt cooked together, sat together, ate together, talked about their weeks, and then would either watch T.V. or play a game before bedtime. This is why no matter what Burt suggested they do, if it was Friday, Kurt would agree – for his mother; and lately, for Burt too because the older Kurt got, the more he realized that his dad needed him.
It was on a Friday, two weeks before Halloween, when Burt surprised Kurt.
"Hey bud," he said as he gingerly took the lasagna out of the oven. "I found something for us to do next Friday."
"Will it be Scrabble or Trivial Pursuit?" Kurt asked, as he set the forks on the table.
"Nope, no games, we're going out."
Kurt lifted an eyebrow and drew his arms around himself. As a thirteen year old boy, going out with his dad could be a nerve-wracking experience. "Out?"
"Yep. It's time that my son was introduced to Lima's Annual Haunted House."
Kurt immediately put his fingers in his ears and began to sing.
"Oh, come on Kurt. You're thirteen now. It's not scary. I went to it when I was five and I turned out just fine." Burt grabbed him by the shoulders and sat him down at the table.
"Dad, I am not setting foot in a haunted house."
Burt scooped a (much too big) piece of lasagna onto Kurt's plate, then a bigger one onto his own. "We're doing it, kid. It'll be fun. We can even dress up if you want."
Kurt just looked at his dad. He had a grin on his face and Kurt knew that he wouldn't be able to say no. How could he? His dad wanted to spend time with him. Ideally, it wasn't what Kurt would've liked to do, but he was grateful that his dad was trying and that he would even be willing to get in costume for him.
"Fine, okay," he sighed.
"Yes," Burt cheered. "What are we dressing up as? I'll leave that part to you, just please not that alfalfa character. That green makeup looks itchy."
"Not alfalfa, dad. It's Elphaba!"
XXXXX
Blaine found himself "backstage" getting ready for his final performance as a vampire. He had worked three Fridays prior; they had been so fun and exhilarating for him. Mr. Simpson had made a point to pay him weekly and in cash. By the time Blaine's shift ended tonight, he would have enough money to buy four brand new bowties.
He finished dressing then went out to look at himself in the mirror. The costume and make-up teams, along with other actors, were buzzing around him, but he didn't really notice because he was admiring his vampiric self. He had seen himself before, of course, but his image never failed to make his adrenaline pump. He wore a black valour three-piece suit with a ruffled chemise. Blaine's face was now pale. He loved how the make-up application made it look so realistic. The white was mixed with other neutral colours to make it look like the hue was actually Blaine's skin. He had black blended around his eyes, making him look dead (which was the entire point) and blood red lips that looked like they'd been stained by his past victims. His hands were equally as pale with acrylic nails applied to his fingertips, giving him long, pointy and shiny claws. His hair was slicked back in a way that made his curls disappear, which Blaine thought was incredible. He made a mental note to ask the stylist how she did that. The final additions were his fangs. They weren't the uncomfortable plastic kind. These fangs had been cast for him specifically before his first shift. Now, they just clipped on and looked like real fangs. He hissed at the mirror, laughing with glee at his own antics. He knew that with the dark setting, the black and purple lights, and the eerie background music, he would be a frightening character. He was looking forward to scaring many people tonight. Blaine smiled because he realized that he wanted to do this for the rest of his life – not scare people but dress up, embody a character - perform.
XXXXX
Kurt hadn't been able to convince Burt to put on green make-up, but he did get him into a long white wig and a wizard's hat (all from Kurt's own personal dress-up chest). Kurt had found some spare fabric in his sewing nook and came up with a make-shift grey robe. He completed his dad's look with a long walking stick that he found in the forested area behind their house and voila, Burt was Gandalf the Grey.
"You look great dad, if I do say so myself," Kurt said as they walked towards the haunted house. Burt grunted at him but really, he was happy because he was out with his son and his son was smiling – his elfin son.
Kurt walked beside his father as Legolas. He got the idea when he started thinking about what movies he and his dad had in common. The list was not a long one, but The Lord of the Rings was one they both could watch again and again.
The costume had been fairly easy for Kurt to put together. He wore his black linen pants, his brown suede vest over his steel grey button up, and his knee-high black boots. He finished the costume off with a blonde wig, which was half tied back into a ponytail, a long flowing cape, which he had quickly stitched up on his mom's old sewing machine, and a quiver of arrows and bow he found in his old toy box in the attic.
"Don't complain dad. I promised to go into the haunted house with you and you promised to not take off that wig."
"But it's itchy," Burt groaned and rubbed at his forehead.
"Elphaba make-up would have been less itchy you know." Kurt grinned at himself as Burt rolled his eyes.
They reached the entrance and lined up to wait their turn. Kurt's eyes went owlish when he saw the monstrosity of a house. Every year, The City of Lima converted the heritage home into a haunted mansion and they did a really good job of transforming the outside and the property surrounding it to look realistic. It looked down-right scary to Kurt, who had never been keen on horror movies or frightening situations. The music playing in the background made Kurt's hair stand on end, even beneath his wig. He could hear screams from the people who had gone in before them and Kurt swallowed harshly. When he turned to his dad to protest though, he saw that Burt was grinning like a cat who had just stolen the cream.
"Dad! It's not funny."
"You promised, kid," he laughed.
"You owe me."
"I do not. I'm wearing this wig and dress for you. That should be enough."
"It's a wizard's robe, dad!"
Finally, it was their turn to go in. Burt handed over the tickets and the woman, who was dressed up as a dismembered doll, opened the gate and let them in. Kurt huddled close to his dad, linking arms with him. He was much too old to be scared of haunted houses and much too old to be holding his dad's arm but hopefully, no one would recognize him beneath his elfin costume.
Kurt walked through half of the house with his eyes closed and his hand clutched around his dad's bicep. He could hear floor boards creaking, doors slamming, people screaming, wicked cackling, gurgled roaring, painful moaning, and Burt's laughter through it all. Kurt finally opened his eyes so that he could give his dad an evil glare but realized that it was so dark, he couldn't see anything. Burt led him around a corner into a room that seemed to be a library and all of a sudden a flash of black, white, and red popped out. The monster hissed at him with the biggest fangs Kurt had ever seen (not that he was a fang connoisseur). Kurt screamed and jumped back until he was practically in Burt's arms, his bow and arrows tumbling to the ground.
The "vampire" kept hissing and inching forward with his fangs barred. Kurt's eyes widened then squeezed shut tight as he put his hands up to somehow fend away the monster. After a moment, he realized that Burt was hugging him and all was quiet. He opened his eyes and once again saw the "vampire." This time though, he wasn't so scary. He was more intriguing and a little bit enchanting because he was staring at Kurt, hazel pools very much alive – a contrast to the role he was playing. Kurt's cerulean eyes stared right back because despite the surroundings, there was something about that hazel gaze that Kurt just couldn't place.
The moment was broken by a scream and more people approaching. Kurt blinked and grabbed Burt's hand, pulling him back around the corner and finally out of the house.
Later, when Kurt was in bed and thinking about the evening, he realized he felt grateful and hopeful, which recently were rare feelings for him to have. He really did have fun with his dad and he was glad that they went out together. He knew that tonight was a memory he would cherish forever. And, he hoped that one day he would run into the boy who belonged to those eyes. He wasn't sure what it all meant; all he knew was that the "vampire's" gaze was something that he wanted to see again. Somehow, it gave him hope.
A few miles down the road and at roughly the same time, Blaine lay in his own bed, thinking about how much he enjoyed performing and about all the bowties he was going to buy the next time he was at the mall. The final thought he had before he fell asleep wasn't about bowties or performing. It was that he was going to raid Cooper's stash of DVDs in the morning because for some reason, he needed to marathon The Lord of The Rings trilogy and pay very close attention to a certain elfin character. He already knew there would be no comparison between Orlando Bloom and the frightened but beautiful elf that had enchanted him in the haunted house. Blaine thought nothing would ever compare to those eyes, but he would take anything he could get.