A/N: So I originally planned for this to be a one or a two shot, but then I woke up in the middle of the night and suddenly had an idea that could only be turned into a fic, so that's what this attempt's supposed to be. I'm not sure how many chapters it will have, nor do I know if I'll increase in length of chapters (although that's very likely), and I certainly haven't got a clue whether my update rate will be... decent.
And, please, if you think this shouldn't be turned into a fic, because it just sucks, then please let me know; it's way past midnight here and too late for me to judge whether this isn't just 1,7K words of bullshit.
Having that said, I hope you enjoy at least some part of it.
Slide to the right. Step. Step. Turn. No, a spin. Watch your arms. That's better. Three steps to the left. Body roll. Arms. Shoulders. Legs.
The boy kept a close watch on everything he ordered his body to do, correcting himself whenever he could.
Dancing wasn't as relaxing as usual. He was too preoccupied, nervous, couldn't find the right mood that would just make him let go and turn his mind off for even just a little while.
He had a hard time dealing with the pressure, even though he'd grown up around the feeling and should've been used to it by now. Well, he wasn't. And the feeling had only worsened when he got into college – even though a big weight had been lifted off his shoulders now that he didn't live under the same roof as his father anymore. Turned out college presented him with an equal amount of pressure, if not more.
Ignoring the nagging voice inside of his head that told him he should just call it a day and start off fresh tomorrow, he continued dancing. He hoped it'd finally have a different outcome and he'd actually manage to make his feet do the right moves, instead of living their own life.
Step. Knee slide. Hands. Shoulders, dammit, keep them in control. Kick. Step. Step. Spin. Legs! Would you just focus already?
"Hey." The dancer was cut off from mentally scolding at himself as he was interrupted by a familiar voice. And he was glad with the distraction, knowing he wouldn't have stopped practicing for at least another hour if he hadn't been interrupted. He would've gone completely mad if he had to endure another hour of repetitively making the same mistakes.
Stopping immediately, he turned around to face the owner of the voice, although he already knew perfectly well who it belonged to. "Sam. Hey, man."
"Looking good," he nodded appreciatively, referring to his friend's dancing skills.
The boy shrugged, "I'm having an off day, to be honest."
More like an off week.
It was then, as he shook his head and let out a sigh, that Mike picked up on the approaching ticking noise. He raised his eyebrows questioningly, casting a look at his friend as if the boy had the answer as to what the hell was making that noise.
Sam smiled in response, turning his head to the right and stepping out of the way to reveal a second visitor, who came to a halt as Sam called him out and touched him lightly on the shoulder to make him stop.
"Mike, this is Blaine. Blaine, this is the dancer I told you about." He gestured for Mike to come closer, and the boy did so, but not after some briefly staring that lasted for a few seconds. The newcomer was surely a looker, and even Mike – who wasn't really focused on anything besides college right now and seemed oblivious to any of his surroundings – took note of that.
"Hi," Mike cleared his throat, trying to keep from staring too long. He couldn't help himself. The boy seemed friendly, smiling broadly, and looked rather normal apart from the fact that he was wearing a pair of sunglasses inside a room where sunglasses weren't particularly needed and was clutching onto the end of a... Wait. Was he... ?
Before he even got the chance to ask himself that question, Sam nodded, like if he was listening in on his friend's inner-monologue, flashing him some kind of warning as if to tell Mike to act like he normally would.
Well, that explained the sunglasses. He wondered why he hadn't put one and one together at the first instant. Wasn't it kind of obvious that-
"Hello. It's nice to meet you, Mike. Sam has told me a lot about you," the curly haired boy smiled warmly.
Mike was shaken out of his thoughts by the pleasant voice that came from the guy. Realizing it was his turn to speak, he opened his mouth, hoping his words wouldn't hastily tumble from his lips and leave him looking like an idiot. Not that it mattered what he looked like in this case, because-
"It's nice to meet you too... Blaine," the name left his mouth hesitantly, "I hope he hasn't told you anything too embarrassing about me."
Blaine let a laugh fall from his lips and damn, for a moment all Mike could do was stare and try to get the quickening pace of his heartbeat under control at the heartfelt sound that the boy had produced. "Don't worry, I think there were only one or two embarrassing stories among the praising ones."
"I can live with that," he said, managing some kind of chuckle.
When it seemed that all three of them weren't planning on breaking the silence, Mike shuffled on his feet uncomfortably and cleared his throat, "So, Sam, to what do I owe this pleasure? Aren't you supposed to be in class or something?"
Sam shook his head, "Teacher came down with a case of the flu, mom."
Mike rolled his eyes.
"I just wanted to introduce you to Blaine, that's all. We've known each other since childhood. Neighbors. Grew up together. We were just going for a coffee to catch up and, sorry, but I should take this call," he ended the sentence, trailing off as he took his ringing phone out of his jeans pocket and read the caller's name that was displayed on the screen. He muttered an excuse and turned around to leave, pressing his phone against his ear as he greeted whomever was calling him.
Down by two, the silence prolonged. Mike continued shuffling on his feet, unconsciously wriggling his fingers and looking everywhere but toward the boy as he felt it was rude to stare, even though said boy wouldn't even be able to see. Blaine's head was downcast, lightly gripping onto his cane and biting his lip. Mike felt guilty, knowing that he was making the boy uncomfortable because it was almost inevitable to not get affected by his uncomfortableness. But not guilty enough to disrupt the silence.
"So Sam told me you're a great dancer."
After shrugging and blushing slightly, Mike shook his head, "I'm really not that good. Sam's just biased. He has to say stuff like that, because we're friends."
And another laugh filled the room and dear God, Mike's breath hitched in his throat and his eyes widened and-
The shorter boy must have picked up on Mike's - as he worded it so nicely in his head, because he was nothing if not honest about himself - idiotic behavior, because a worried frown worked its way up his face and he bit his lip. "Is it something I said? Or... ? You seem uncomfortable."
"Oh, no, no! Don't think it's because of you!" And by now he was waving his hands frantically as if that would help his case, "I'm just - that's just me."
"It's okay, you know," Blaine shrugged, placing both of his hands on his cane, a small smile tugging at his lips, "It happens, something you can't prevent. I've grown used to it by now, I can't see them, but I can definitely feel their stares and the cloud of unease that hangs around them."
Mike shook his head, realizing that wouldn't do any good, so instead he tried to find the right words, "It's really not because of... that. I'm often like this around new people." He wondered why he couldn't say the word out loud.
"It's true, you know," Sam chipped in, in his ever so cheery voice, his face displayed a grin that would normally fall of ones face, but somehow managed to stay plastered to the blond's features because it was used to the constant smiling. "You should've seen - well, heard - him when I first met him."
Blaine chuckled at Sam's add-on to Mike's explanation, his head casting downwards as he did so, making a curl escape his hairdo and fall down his forehead. It took the dancer a hell lot of effort to keep from staring again, but he wasn't sure why.
"So, err, we should go, Blaine," Sam frowned, curiously glancing over at Mike and wondering why the guy was acting more strange than usual. The dancer was glad he didn't ask anything, though, because he was currently asking himself the same thing.
The boy nodded and showed a tentative smile as he lifted his head and looked straightforward to where Mike's voice had come from. He held out a hand, and Mike understood what his intention was. So he stepped forward, grasped the hand that was offered to him and the two awkwardly shook hands. It wasn't until Sam coughed and knitted his brows together that both of them dropped their respective hand to their side and some of the awkward tension disappeared.
"Right," the blond declared, shaking his head idly, "Let's go. See you later, Mike."
In return, Mike waved his friend goodbye and gave himself permission to let his eyes linger over to the other one for just a few seconds. "It was nice to meet you, Blaine."
"It was nice to meet you too. Good luck on your dancing." After beaming one last smile, the two of them left the room, leaving the dancer alone with his thoughts and the remainders of the awkwardness.
Well, that was weird. And rude, on your behalf. Way to go, Mike, I think you scared him off.
To stop himself from over-analyzing - or analyzing at all, for that matter - their meeting, he turned to the mirror and tried recalling where he had left off before Sam had barged in. It was of no use, he couldn't for the life of him remember. Which, evidently, led him to start over from the beginning and memorizing the steps to the routine he'd been failing to perfect for days now. The prior encounter only helped keeping up the strings of failure, and Mike was left slapping himself over the head with the fact that maybe he just wasn't good enough to compete with the other dancers he shared classes with.
If you haven't figured out by now; yes, Blaine's blind. I'm planning on adding his back ground story later in the fic, and the next chapter is actually supposed to involve Blaine and Sam's meeting so that you already get a sneak peak of some of his youth before we go back to fed up Mike.
If you've read this far; thank you for your time, I appreciate it.
