I wrote this story for the Blaine Big Bang at beyond_dapper on LJ and blainebigbang on tumblr. If you want to come and find me on tumblr, I'm the-water-nixie over there. :)

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Hail To Whatever You Found in the Sunlight That Surrounds You

Nine – August 2003: The Summer When They Meet

On the third of August in Blaine Anderson's ninth year, something momentous happens: he sees a boy crying on the beach and decides to do something about it.

He's just coming back from buying ice cream at the little shop on the boardwalk where Cooper worked for a month the summer before, only to be fired for giving out free cones to girls he thought were pretty. And Cooper thinks a lot of girls are pretty. Blaine takes a bite of his pistachio ice cream and wonders just how many cones Cooper gave away during that month. He's probably lucky the ice cream shop is still in business.

The wind is strong and Blaine looks out at the water, the white caps huge and the surf crashing loudly against the shore. There is sand in the air and he knows it will likely get in his eyes and in his ice cream, but he hops off of the wooden planks of the boardwalk anyway and starts down the beach. There aren't many people around today because of the weather. He likes it better sometimes when the ocean is wild and roaring and he doesn't have to listen to other kids shrieking and playing and their parents scolding them. It's peaceful.

So he's a little startled when he comes across the boy. He's small like Blaine is, huddled in on himself on a large piece of driftwood that's shaped a bit like a whale toppled over on its side. Blaine tries to make a lot of noise as he approaches; he shuffles his feet and clear his throat, but the sound is swallowed by the wind and the waves. The boy flinches when he finally notices Blaine standing there and Blaine feels guilt twist up in his belly.

The boy looks sad. His full pink lips are turned down at the corners and his eyes are red and swollen. At first Blaine thinks that maybe he got sand in them and has been rubbing at them when he should have just gotten some water to rinse them out instead (a lesson he learned the hard way), but then he notices the tear tracks on his cheeks. As he watches, another tear leaks out of the boy's blue-green eye and slides slowly down his rosy cheek to finally drip off of his wobbly, crooked chin.

"Hi," Blaine says in a quiet voice, as not to spook him. "Are you all right?"

The boy's eyes widen and Blaine steps back a bit, worried that he is frightening him. "I... um... yes. I'm okay," he says. His voice is light and airy and pretty, like delicate silver bells. Blaine feels himself blushing and looks down at his dish of rapidly melting ice cream. He should leave the boy alone. He said he was okay and although Blaine doesn't believe him, he's heard his father say that it's rude to stick your nose in other people's business enough times that he can hear his voice repeating the phrase perfectly in his head. He looks back up and the boy is still watching him. He doesn't look scared now, just curious. His tears seem to have stopped falling and Blaine decides that answers the question for him. If he can make the boy stop crying then he really shouldn't leave, nose in the wrong place or not. What if he turns around and heads back to the house and the boy starts to cry all over again? That wouldn't be right.

He walks over and seats himself next to the boy on the smooth, sun-warmed wood. "My name's Blaine," he says, and offers a hand. His mother always says it is important to be a gentleman in every situation.

The boy pauses for a moment before taking Blaine's outstretched hand in a firm grip. "Kurt," he says.

Blaine smiles at him. "Would you like to share my ice cream? It's pistachio. In case you're allergic to nuts or anything."

Kurt gives him a shy smile and looks down into the bowl of melty ice cream. "I think there's sand in it," he says, and he laughs a little.

"A little sand won't hurt anyone," Blaine tells him, and he laughs some more. Blaine's heart swells. He's making him feel better!

Kurt shrugs his shoulders and looks back into the bowl. "You only have one spoon," he says, but he reaches for it anyway.

"I promise I don't have cooties or anything."

"I know," Kurt says. He lifts the melted green ice cream to his lips and sucks it from the spoon. "I can tell. You're very clean and I like your bowtie."

He passes the spoon back and Blaine takes a bite himself. "Thanks. My older brother tells me it's stupid to wear a tie on the beach, but I like it. It's not like I'm going in the water today or anything. It's too cold."

"He sounds like my cousins," Kurt says sadly and takes the spoon back from Blaine. "They're always telling me I dress too fancy and they try to get me dirty on purpose. Well, they used to. Nobody really talks to me now."

Blaine furrows his brow. He had been doing such a good job of making Kurt happy and now he's all sad again. "How come?" he asks, hoping it's the right way to make Kurt smile at him.

"I, um..." Kurt's eyes are tearing up again and Blaine sits up straighter and holds up his hands.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," he reassures, his own eyes wide. He doesn't want to scare Kurt away. He's the only boy his own age that he's met this summer who isn't dumb.

Kurt smiles at him, but it's a sad smile. "It's okay," he says. "It's just... I used to come here with my mom every summer to visit her family. My grandparents own that house up there."

Blaine turns his body in the direction Kurt is pointing, towards the large, white shingled house with the red door. Blaine has always admired that house and made up stories about the people who lived there. His parents said they were "locals" as if it was a strange thing to be. Blaine always thought that living in this place all year round must be the best thing ever. Excitement grips him – maybe he'll be able to see the inside of the house now that he knows Kurt!

"I like that house," Blaine says, his calm voice belying his excitement.

Kurt smiles again. "Me too. Well, I did before. Now everyone is so weird around me, because I'm here without her. At home my dad talks to me and we cook together and try to laugh, but here... They're all silent. Sometimes I hear them talking and as soon as I walk into the room they stop. And they all stare at me, like I'm gonna, I don't know, break apart like one of my grandmother's china dolls."

"How come she didn't come with you, Kurt? If they're being mean, you should call your dad to come get you." Kurt's eyes get watery again and Blaine is reminded of the waves not ten feet in front of them. Kurt shakes his head sadly and Blaine realizes his mistake a second before he begins to speak.

"My mom... she died a few months ago. That's why I'm alone this summer. They still wanted me to come. Only they're too afraid to talk to me or about her. They think I can't handle anything that reminds me of her, which is dumb, because nothing could remind me of her more than this whole stupid place."

Kurt places the spoon back into the bowl of now entirely melted ice cream and crosses his arms over his chest and stares out at the water. Blaine doesn't know what to say. He's never met anyone whose mother had died before, besides old people. Not a kid like him. How was that fair? If he ever lost his mom... He can't even imagine being stuck with just his father and Cooper. He doesn't want to.

"I wish there was something I could do to make you not sad," he says, voicing his thoughts aloud. He knows he can't now, though, not when it's something so big. How could he possibly make that better? He kicks his feet against the driftwood whale and glares at the sand. How is it fair? People's mothers aren't supposed to die until they're really, really old. Like when Blaine's great grandmother had died and they went to the Philippines for her funeral, even though he'd only ever seen her twice, and one of those times he was too young to even remember.

He feels a soft touch on his shoulder and looks up into Kurt's wide eyes. "Thank you," Kurt says.

"For what?" Blaine didn't actually do anything. Kurt had hardly even eaten any of the ice cream.

"For not saying that you're sorry. I hate that. Why do people tell me that? They're not cancer; they didn't kill my mother."

Kurt's eyes are filled with tears again. Blaine can see them pooling in the bottom corners and sparkling in his eyelashes. He frowns and places his dish on the driftwood behind him before turning fully to face Kurt and taking his hands. "If cancer was a thing I could find, I would beat it up and throw it in the ocean just for you," he says.

Kurt gives him a wobbly smile and Blaine feels that, at least, he's made him the tiniest bit better. "Well, maybe we should just become doctors so we can make the other people with cancer better when we're older," Kurt says.

"Blaine! Blaine! Where are you, you little shit!" It's Cooper. His words are muffled by the wind, but he still sounds mad. Blaine checks his watch. He was supposed to be home ages ago.

"Uh-oh, that's my brother. I gotta go. He jumps down from the driftwood whale and grabs his Styrofoam ice cream bowl. "Will you meet me here again tomorrow?" he asks in a rush. He can still hear Cooper shouting in the distance, but it's getting farther and farther away. He's going in the wrong direction and maybe Blaine can get back to the beach house before him and avoid being sucker punched in the arm over and over as they walk.

Kurt nods and smiles. "I'll be here in the morning unless it rains. Ten o'clock?"

Blaine grins at him as he backs away. "See you later!" And then he turns and runs as quickly as he can up the beach towards home.

~0~

He sneaks into the house, slipping off his sandy shoes at the door and leaving them on the plastic mat with the grooves that his mom put there specifically to keep the sand from being tracked through the house. His mom hears him anyway, even all the way from the kitchen. She's got ears like a hawk, which is a pretty weird expression, because Blaine is pretty sure that birds don't have ears at all. He must be getting it wrong.

"There you are!" she says, half-scolding, as he slumps into the kitchen. She is cutting vegetables on a large, square board and he lifts himself onto one of the stools across from her. "Where have you been, Blaine? I was getting worried about you. I sent Cooper out..." She waves her knife in the vague direction of the beach.

"I must have just missed him," Blaine tells her. He studies his hands when he says it, though she is not watching him. He doesn't like to tell lies, but it's not entirely untrue. He did miss Cooper. On purpose, but still. "I was down on the beach. I met a new friend there and lost track of time. I'm sorry."

"That's okay, darling. Just pay more attention next time," she says, and begins chopping a leek.

"He was sad," Blaine continues, "so we shared my ice cream."

"Why was he sad?" she asks distractedly, moving on to something leafy green and sweet smelling.

"Because his mom died and he's here visiting her family all by himself."

She stops chopping. Blaine looks up at her face to find her watching him, her dark eyes looking wet. He sees her throat move as she swallows. "Are you okay, Mama?"

"Yes," she answers, her voice a little hoarse. She clears her throat and smiles. "That's just very sad, Blaine."

"Yeah," Blaine agrees. He thinks about Kurt again, huddled on the driftwood with tears running down his face. It isn't fair. "I love you, Mama," he says quietly.

"I love you, too, baby." Her voice is strange. She starts chopping again; the repetitive noise of the blade hitting the wood is soothing. Blaine looks out of the large kitchen window and watches the boughs of his favourite willow tree thrashing about in the wind. "Why don't you invite your new friend over to play?"

He snaps out of his daze and whips his head around in her direction. "I can?" He's never had friends over to play in the summer. Cooper invites people all the time, but Blaine's not sure if he's ever actually had permission.

"Of course you can," his mother replies. She smiles at him before taking all of her cut up vegetables over to the sink.

"You'll like him, Mama. He's a gentleman." His mother glances at him over her shoulder and nods, showing that she is still listening even though she is otherwise occupied. "I like him," Blaine continues. "His eyes are the same colour as the sea water."

~0~

So of course it rains the next day.

Blaine is up early, antsy to see Kurt again, and when he looks out the window his bright smile crumples in on itself. He sighs deeply and pads downstairs. He'd even gotten ready and put on his best bowtie and everything, and now he isn't going to get the chance to play with Kurt at all.

"Why does it have to rain?" He pouts into his cereal.

"To make things wet, stupid," Cooper says.

"Cooper!" their mother scolds. He mimes zipping his mouth closed, all the while giving Blaine the evil eye. As soon as her back is turned, he tosses the crust of his toast and hits Blaine in the face.

Blaine wipes the crumbs from his cheek, glaring at Cooper but not daring to speak. There are a million things he would love to yell in his brother's dumb face, but he has never plucked up the courage to utter a single one of them.

"You boys find something quiet to do today, all right? Your father is here from the city and he needs some peace before he has to go back to work next week."

"Yes Mama," Blaine says. Cooper parrots his words in a whiny baby voice.

~0~

Blaine has been trying to be quiet. He has been trying to keep himself occupied, really he has. There are only so many things a boy can do in a house at the beach on a rainy day and he's pretty much exhausted all of them by lunchtime.

He's sitting on the living room sofa counting the peaks in the ceiling's plaster. It has come to that.

"Stop bouncing, Blaine!" his father grumbles from the armchair. "I'm exhausted just watching you. This is supposed to be my vacation."

"Sorry," Blaine answers in a quiet voice. He stops his legs from moving and sits up straight. "I'm just bored. I was supposed to meet Kurt outside, but it's raining."

"Who's Kurt?"

"My new friend."

"Right." His father looks up from his book and makes eye contact with Blaine for the first time since he's begun speaking. Blaine has no idea how many full conversations he's had with his father where he never once looked at him, but he knows it's a lot.

"Your mother said something about that. You can see him tomorrow. Now, go up to your room and play. I spend a fortune on toys and guitars and all sorts of nonsense and you hardly touch them."

There is a note of finality in his father's voice. The conversation is over. His father's light eyes leave Blaine's face and focus back on his book. It's no use for Blaine to speak up and tell him that he doesn't even like toys anymore and he didn't bring any with him. He does like his guitar, but he can't start lessons again until they get back home at the end of the month, and he's already perfected the chords that his teacher showed him. He would play the piano if there was one at the summer house, though his father would probably yell at him for making too much noise if there were.

He sighs quietly and leaves the room, going in the direction of the kitchen instead of the stairs. His father isn't paying enough attention to notice.

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The next day the rain is still falling steadily.

Blaine spends the morning avoiding his father and Cooper. At ten o'clock he's sitting listlessly on a kitchen stool that he has pulled over to the window and staring out at the willow tree, whacking his feet into the legs of the stool in a steady rhythm. Thunkthunkthunk tha, thunkthunkthunk tha. He's so dazed by his watching and his thumping that he startles when a foot settles on his calf and stops its movement.

His mother is standing over him with a funny look on her face and her hands clutching a pair of rain boots and a rain coat. Blaine's favourite polka dot umbrella is nestled in the crook of her arm. "Let's go and find this friend of yours, shall we?" she says.

Blaine can see Kurt's grandparents' house from his own, so he doesn't know why it feels like it takes so long to get there.

As they approach the cherry red door of the house that has peaked Blaine's curiosity for years, he feels a swooping in his belly – a mixture of nerves and excitement. His mother presses a finger to the doorbell and he can hear it chime within. Footsteps approach the door and he can make out voices – someone calling out to another person, their call growing louder the closer they get.

Blaine huddles under the safety of his umbrella. He still has it up even though they are under the shelter of the wide veranda and well out of the cold drizzle that is drenching everything it touches.

The door is opened by an older woman with straight grey hair and pretty blue eyes, a smile on her thin pink mouth. "Hello," she greets, and looks curiously from Blaine to his mother.

"Hello, Mrs. Tinsey," Blaine's mother says. He looks at her in confusion. How does she know the lady's name? "I'm Marisol Anderson from down the road. My son, Blaine, was wondering if your grandson would be able to come over and play. They had planned to go to the beach, but with all of this rain... He's been coming down with a severe case of cabin fever."

The lady laughs and nods and motions them inside. "Believe me, I know all about that. I've got four grandkids here this week and they're going to bring the house down if the rain doesn't let up soon."

Blaine closes his umbrella and follows his mother inside, standing next to her on the mat so he doesn't drip water all over the shiny wooden floor. The house is just as nice inside as he imagined it would be: bright colours and dark wood and a wide staircase with a bannister all along the upper floor so you can see downstairs. It's so high you could almost climb out and jump onto the dangling chandelier. Blaine wonders if Kurt ever thinks about doing just that when he's standing up there.

The lady is speaking again and Blaine gets a nudge from his mother. "Oh... excuse me?" he says. "Sorry."

Mrs. Tinsey smiles serenely. "I just asked which of my grandsons it was you were looking for."

"Oh... um, Kurt please."

A look of surprise crosses her face for a second but she quickly covers it with another smile. "I'll go and get him."

In just a few minutes Kurt is there with his grandmother, following her out through a swinging door. Blaine can hear the laughter of other children start and stop and start again as the door sways back and forth on its hinges.

"Hi, Blaine," Kurt says quietly, looking up nervously at Blaine's mother and back in his direction. "Thank you for inviting me."

Blaine looks up at his mother, smiling at her, silently communicating see, I told you he's a gentleman. Blaine's mother appreciates such things in a world where she says chivalry is far too often lost. Blaine likes that word: chivalry.

Blaine's mom smiles down at Kurt and nods. "It would be our pleasure, dear," she says. "I'll just give your grandmother our number in case she needs to get in touch and we can bring you back in time for dinner." The two women nod at one another and Kurt shuffles over towards Blaine.

"Thanks for coming to rescue me," Kurt whispers, sneaking glances at the adults to be sure they aren't listening in. "My cousins are all crazy and I wasn't sure how much longer I could stay inside, rain or not."

Blaine grins at him and nods in understanding. "Guess that makes you my knight in shining armour," Kurt says and fingers the sleeve of Blaine's rain-speckled jacket. Blaine's grin widens to impossible size.

Blaine's house is cold and dark and quiet as a tomb after the sunshine and warmth of Kurt's. He feels shy when he leads Kurt in through the front door and takes his jacket and umbrella to hang on the hooks.

Blaine's mother smiles and promises them lunch in a little while before disappearing into the kitchen. Blaine wonders for a moment where Cooper and his father are, hoping to avoid them. He takes Kurt upstairs to his room where it is highly unlikely that they will be bothered by either.

~0~

The rain clears up during the night and they begin to spend all of their time at the beach. They meet up early in the mornings and stay away from home for as long as they can before someone comes looking for them. Sometimes Blaine brings them a picnic, and sometimes Kurt does. Anything to keep away from their summer homes: Kurt being treated like a glass figurine and Blaine wanting to escape the constant arguments he continuously overhears between his father and Cooper. This morning's argument had been particularly bad with Cooper storming out of the house after a good half hour of shouting.

Blaine knows what they're fighting about, hears the words shouted so often that he knows both sides of the argument by heart. And yet, it confuses him. Cooper has always been his father's favourite son and he's never even attempted to hide his preference. He's always found Blaine somewhat of an enigma: gentle and passionate and too quick to cry. Blaine has tried to follow his lead and study up on his interests so they will have something in common. He even once attempted to copy his father's mannerisms, figuring that maybe his father liked Cooper better simply because they looked alike, but his father didn't pay enough attention to notice. Sometimes in the quiet of the night, Blaine secretly wonders if his father wishes he had never been born. Cooper has told him enough times that he had been an "accident" for him to know that he hadn't been part of his parents' plans.

So maybe Blaine should feel vindicated that his father has been so angry with Cooper all year and that they yell themselves hoarse at one another. But he mostly just feels sad.

"What's wrong?" Kurt asks. He has stopped trying to coax the hermit crab into the larger shell and is watching Blaine with wide eyes. The hermit crab takes advantage of their moment of distraction and scuttles away.

"It's escaping," Blaine says halfheartedly and motions at the crab.

Kurt doesn't look away from him. "You seem sad," he says. "Was your brother being mean to you again?"

Blaine shakes his head. "He was fighting with my dad. Well, they were fighting with each other."

Kurt's eyes widen further. "Like..."

"No, not like that. Just yelling and stuff. And Cooper ran out and slammed the door and then my mom was crying and... I just hate it sometimes. So I made us an extra big picnic so I don't have to go back there until dinner time or even later."

"Okay." Kurt watches Blaine for a moment. It's silent besides the crashing of the waves and a lone gull screeching overhead. Blaine likes these silences with Kurt. He never feels like he's in trouble or someone thinks he's weird and he never needs to fidget.

Kurt reaches into the pocket of his shorts and pulls something out. He keeps it clasped in his hand, looking out at the water. After a while he shifts closer to Blaine and opens his hand. On his pale palm rests a perfect shell. It's like a miniature conch: one side open and twisting around to its patterned, rounded end, the myriad colours swirling together in a beautiful pastel wave. It looks like the ocean itself. Blaine wonders if you can hear the whistling winds trapped within. "I used to pick shells with my mom when we came here. I left the house early this morning and automatically started looking for them, I dunno why. Guess it's like a habit or something. But I don't want to keep them anymore; it makes me too sad. I tossed the other ones I found into the water, but this one is too pretty to throw away." He looks up from the delicate shell and into Blaine's eyes. "You should have it," he says. He takes Blaine's hand and turns it over and presses the shell into his palm.

Blaine feels as though he has been given the most perfect, special gift. He closes his hand around it reverently. "Thank you," he breathes out.

~0~

The In-Between – Year One: Assorted letters and a piece of glass.

Dear Kurt,

I'm so glad you thought to give me your address before you had to go back home to Ohio. (The worst day of my whole summer, by the way.) This way we can be friends all year and not just at the beach!

I'm sending you a piece of beach glass I found the day you left. I hope beach glass isn't something that makes you sad. It reminded me of you because the color looks a bit like your eyes. But only when they are sorta green like they sometimes get.

Sorry this is so short but I need to finish before my mom goes to the store so she can mail it for me. I'll write again soon! Write to me too!

Sincerely,

Blaine Anderson

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Dear Blaine,

Thank you so much for the pretty piece of beach glass! It's the same shade of green as my dad's eyes and he laughed and told me it's a part of an old beer bottle but that's my dad for you! Mrs. Deidre that teaches me piano is going to help me make it into a bracelet. She knows how to make friendship bracelets too so I'll send one for you in my next letter.

The funniest thing happened tonight – Dad tried to cook us chicken because it was raining so he couldn't use the BBQ and it was RAW. It should have been gross, but we both laughed instead. Sometimes I feel guilty for laughing. But not when I was with you. I know that my mom would want me to laugh so I shouldn't feel like that. Anyway, Dad ended up ordering pizza and it was good. I think I need to learn how to cook some new things because he says he's hopeless. Just between you and me I agree with him. He did help me bake cookies though. Mostly he just took the pans out of the oven and I did all the hard stuff.

I need to go to sleep because I am going shopping for school stuff in the morning. I'll put this in the mail then!

Write soon!

Kurt

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Dear Kurt,

So, remember how I was telling you that my brother and my father were fighting? Well, they had the worst, biggest fight yet and now Cooper is gone.

He moved away. He told me he was going the day before it happened and he was actually nice to me. He gave me some of his CDs and sheet music that he didn't need anymore and said he was going to be famous in New York.

My father and him have been fighting for ages because he wants to be an actor and a singer and doesn't want to go to college and be "bored to death for the rest of his life" (← that's what Cooper said!). When Cooper graduated from high school in June my dad was mad because he never applied to any colleges at all. So now he's gone to New York to get a job as an actor, even though my dad says that it's foolish and impractical. I miss him. I know I shouldn't, because he's mostly mean to me and he sits on my head and threatens to spit on me and he punches me in the arm and leg and calls me names and tries to make me swear. But it's so quiet here now. Since my dad stopped being so angry nobody has really talked much.

Can I tell you a secret that I can never tell anyone else ever except you? I think being an actor or a singer or both would be a cool job. I want to do it too. But now I'm afraid. Maybe if Cooper does well they won't be mad at me. He is a very good singer.

Sorry if all I did was complain in this letter. Write soon! I miss you even more than I miss Cooper.

Sincerely,

Blaine Anderson

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