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WE'RE ALIVE ALIVE
part two
He wakes up in a hospital bed.
His head throbs just above his left eye and his right wrist has been wrapped in a cast.
The doctor tells him the paramedics found him on the bathroom floor after some firemen broke down the front door. Apparently it'd been Rachel calling him on his cell phone, too worried about him to let her visit slide, and after receiving no answer at the door from him for half an hour she'd freaked out and called the fire department. And thank God she did, who knows how long he could've laid there before anyone had found him.
He should've taken better care of himself.
"Now as for the pills..." the doctor's voice trails off in a strange accusing manner and he looks up into the man's eyes carefully.
The implication hits him too late. "I didn't try to kill myself," he says, realizing how it must have looked to an outsider, him passed out on the floor, surrounded by pills. Maybe he even knocked over some of the bottles when he fell.
"There were a lot of pills, son."
"I tripped!" he almost screams. "I was–" I broke up with my boyfriend, I wasn't eating, I was being careless. "God, I was throwing them out. I swear I wasn't trying to kill myself."
The doctor leafs through his notes. "That may be, but both your brother and I feel–"
"Wait," he interrupts, thoughts catching on one word in particular. "Did you say brother?" he asks, and as if the question had somehow summoned the devil himself, Cooper walks into his room, arms wide open, a wide smile showing all his teeth.
"Blaineeeey!"
He takes a deep breath. "No," he says, and he's pretty sure he wants the word to negate more than one thing. Eli was first on his emergency contact list, Eli was a doctor for God's sake, why had they called Cooper? Had Eli turned them down? Had he told the paramedics to call Cooper instead because they broke up? Had Eli stopped caring altogether?
"What do you mean, no?" Cooper asks. "You're coming home with me. It'll be like old times!"
"I have a broken wrist, Coop. I'll manage on my own," he says, even though life without the use of his dominant hand wouldn't be easy.
Cooper shrugs. "Fine."
His eyes narrow on his brother's face: that was way too easy. Cooper never gives up easy.
"I'll just give mom a call then," Cooper adds, reaching for his cellphone.
He shoots up in the bed. "Don't you dare."
Cooper shrugs again and starts scrolling through his contacts.
"Put the phone down."
Cooper smiles at him and puts the phone to his ear, the dial tone loud enough to reach his ears too.
"Coop, I am a grown man!" he calls, body shaking, because this is one side his mother and brother have in common. He hasn't seen Cooper in months, their interactions reduced to phone calls and texts in between work and relationships, but this isn't a side of his brother he's particularly missed.
The doctor slowly retreats from the room.
"Hi, mom!" Cooper exclaims as soon as his mother picks up the phone.
He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath to calm himself down; he has a concussion and a broken wrist, and he'd need someone to help him out for a bit, but that can't be his mother. She'd insist he stay in bed and spoon-feed him his meals, she'd clean the apartment and rearrange his books, lecture him on heartbreak and how it passes. In other words, life with his mother around would be intolerable.
Staying with Cooper wouldn't be much better than his mother coming over, but he'd be out of an empty apartment, and he'd actually lived with his brother before.
He sags back into the pillow at his back. "Fine," he sighs. "I'll come."
"Yeah, he's fine," Cooper tells their mother. "Don't worry. He's coming home with me."
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And so it came to be that at the age of twenty-four, Blaine Anderson packed his bags to go live with his big brother. They make a quick stop at the apartment, he tells Cooper exactly how to fold his clothes and strap them inside his suitcase, he waters the few plants that had survived his care, and packs his own overnight bag, so he can sneak in some pictures of him and Eli, a few small reminders of happier times.
There's a bloodstain on the small mat in the bathroom, where he'd laid passed out for hours, but at least someone had been kind enough to clear the pills. Despite everything, he doesn't want to leave here, this place had become a home where things lived that weren't material–he couldn't quite word it, but being here felt right.
They pack three suitcases before Cooper points out he isn't actually moving, so they leave it at that and leave for downtown. Cooper lives in one of the calmer parts of the city, little traffic but plenty of people packed on top of each other to make anyone realize they were still in New York, and 'calm' was a relative term. Five years ago they'd chosen the location for practical reasons: it was only five minutes from the subway and he only needed to take two different lines to get to school, the car they owned mostly driven by Cooper to head to his bartending job, or attend auditions whenever he caught wind of one.
"You always loved this place," Cooper says as he parks the car, and it's true, he loved that it became his home away from his parents, even though living with Cooper constantly challenged that decision–he really only traded a prying mother for a far too curious brother, but it was better than living in residence with complete strangers.
"I like my own place," he answers nonetheless.
"It wasn't your own," Cooper says. "It was Eli's too. You have to learn to let go, bro." Cooper reaches over a hand and squeezes his thigh, the mounting headache behind his eyes the only thing keeping him from crying.
He doesn't understand it, he never has, this concept of letting go. How does he accept that a person he loved so fiercely for so long has disappeared from his life, after he'd taken up such an important place in his heart. Heartbreak is ugly, heartbreak is painful, and he's never been good at dealing with it in a healthy manner.
And Cooper's right, he likes his own apartment because it was Eli's place too and his presence lingered there, in the bed where they'd spent so many passionate nights, in the kitchen where Eli had spilt his coffee once when they just moved in and the stain had persisted. Everything about that apartment made him think of Eli, and he liked that, it meant keeping him closer for a little while longer, while his scent slowly disappeared. But the memories would always remain.
He gets out of the car and looks up at the building, reminded that there are plenty of memories here too, his first year of college, living with a brother who didn't understand the concept of personal space, the coffee shop around the corner where he'd met Eli. He smiles to himself, grateful that part of Eli lives here too.
"You head upstairs and freshen up," Cooper says, tossing him the keys over the hood of the car. "I'll bring up the rest of your bags."
He pulls his overnight bag tighter over his shoulder and makes his way inside. There's no elevator, which means climbing the four sets of stairs, and by the time he makes it upstairs his calves are burning. He suspects Cooper's still dicking around downstairs because he doesn't hear him in the stairwell.
The apartment hasn't changed much. There's a short hallway with the first bedroom to the left, leading into a large living room, the bathroom located next to the Cooper's bedroom on the other side of the room. The table in the kitchen can comfortably seat four people. For a guy living on his own Cooper keeps his apartment pretty clean, safe for a stray sock on the ground here or there, dirty dishes and utensils in the sink because Cooper abhors any work in the kitchen.
He makes his way into the bathroom and takes off his shirt, grateful that he had the sense to add a fresh outfit to his bag. He's not sure how long he'll last living with Cooper, last time he spent a lot of time at school and in the library, and then Eli continually tempted him away–what does he have now? The doctor gave him two weeks off work due to his concussion and he didn't feel up to going out with friends.
His chest still hurts, eyes pounding in his skull, his wrist throbbing too. It's almost ironic that the doctor prescribed him pain medication after believing he tried to kill himself.
The doorknob turns. "Coop, I'm–" he starts to complain, because Cooper knows he's in here.
But the person who pushes through the door isn't Cooper.
"Who the hell are you?" he asks, taking in the stranger making his way into Cooper's bathroom.
"Shit, I'm sorry," the guy says, far too calm given the situation, even though he's pretty sure he's not some cat burglar. But who is this guy? Had he walked into the wrong apartment?
The stranger takes a few steps back into the living room, and he quickly grabs a shirt from his bag, covering himself up. He follows the stranger outside, getting a better look: he stands gracefully tall, sandy brown hair, wearing a black sleeveless top that hugs his broad chest tightly, matching black slacks with a white line running down the sides–and he's sweaty.
"I'm Cooper's roommate," the guy explains, pulling the earbuds to his iPod from his ears.
"Cooper–doesn't have a roommate," he says tentatively, but then he thinks about how the apartment is really clean and this guy seems perfectly at ease. He relaxes, but only a little. Why hadn't Cooper told him he had a roommate?
The taller man's eyes narrow on his face. "You'd think I'd know what I've been spending my money on."
"He didn't mention a roommate." But when he thinks about it this is exactly the kind of thing his brother would pull, and it had to be easier to keep the apartment with someone else paying for it too.
The stranger smiles, a gorgeous confident smile, all teeth, and he can imagine it puts a lot of people at ease. "You must be Blaine," he says, and offers a hand, but before he can introduce himself Cooper storms into the room, as if he finally remembered Blaine could be running into a stranger upstairs and he might actually have some questions about that.
"Blaine Blaine Blaine!" Cooper calls, dropping his bags to the floor as he goes. "It's okay!" he says, taking a deep breath to calm himself. "This is Sebastian, he's been staying in the spare room."
"You rented out my room?" he asks, ignoring the fact that Sebastian's right there with them. This is exactly up Cooper's alley, inviting him to stay without having the room to put him. "To a complete stranger?"
Sebastian cuts in. "Okay, first of all, I'm not a stranger," he says. "I provided Cooper with very solid legal advice when no one would listen to him."
He eyes his brother. "Are you in some kind of trouble?"
Cooper shrugs. "I might've pointed at a meter maid the wrong way."
"And let me guess, you gave her the Roxy Harvey routine."
Cooper points at him. "That's a great routine."
"Second," Sebastian continues as if they hadn't spoken at all. "You don't live here anymore."
He looks at Sebastian, taking note of his green eyes. "You're a lawyer?" he asks.
Sebastian leans back against the couch, crosses his arms over his chest, accentuating his impressive set of biceps. "First year associate at a very prestigious law firm." Sebastian smiles easy again, clearly proud of his job. He winks and slaps Cooper's shoulder. "I'm gonna hit the shower."
His eyes follow Sebastian towards the bathroom, and he sighs. Now he's not only stuck with Cooper for two weeks, but with a guy Cooper seemingly picked at random.
"Cheer up, squirt," Cooper says, throwing an arm around his shoulders. "Sofa's a pull-out."
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Sleeping on the couch, it turns out, sounds far better in theory than put in practice.
Cooper's been seeing some girl named Sarah, a tall blonde with the kind of legs that would make straight men swoon (but he can appreciate as much as anyone), a smile that matched Cooper's in wattage, and a sophistication that only comes with money. He's always known Cooper was a ladies man, that he could get women without so much as opening his mouth, but Sarah seems way out of his brother's league.
When Cooper tells him that they're in an open relationship, free to see other people without tempting the other's scorn, he can't help but think Cooper's making the mistake of his life. His brother isn't the kind of guy to handle everything that an open relationship could entail, and Sarah doesn't strike him as the kind of girl to focus her attention on more than one guy at a time.
Neither Cooper nor Sarah understands the concept of being quiet. The first two days he's there they stumble into the flat lip locked, make out against the wall and once he hears the clang of Cooper's belt being undone he grabs the two pillows on the couch and buries his head between them. Anyone would think that would give Cooper or Sarah a hint, but they happily continue, giggling and moaning, and when they finally do make it into the bedroom, the door slamming loud, he finds out Cooper's voice has greatly improved. If there was ever a list of things brothers don't need to know about each other, having the other hear them have sex would be pretty high on that list.
It comes as a surprise then that Sebastian – who for all intents and purposes doesn't know him at all – actually takes a lot more care when he comes home with someone.
"Shh," he wakes up to Sebastian's quiet whisper his third night on the couch, the second pillow slipped off his head in all his tossing and turning. Sebastian actually closes the front door silently (he had no idea that was even possible) and cautions his date with a subtle 'hey'.
"Who's he?" a male voice asks, and his eyes shoot open. He doesn't know why he's so surprised to find out Sebastian's gay, or bisexual, but he's grateful he has his back turned to Sebastian's room–he feels his cheeks flush hot and his arms feel empty, something distinctly missing.
"Roommate's brother," Sebastian answers, and the room goes quiet. He hears Sebastian and his date whisper something before Sebastian offers an explanation: "Tough breakup," he says, and Eli's right there again, the ghosts of his arms around him but he's all alone, trapped in an apartment with two guys who seem to have plenty of fun without feeling the need to add something permanent to their lives. Not that he knows Sebastian that well to already have reached that conclusion.
"Straight?" Sebastian's date asks and he guesses Sebastian must shake his head, because the next thing out of the guy's mouth is: "How do you always get so lucky?"
He knows he could take it as a compliment, but then he hears the distinct sound of kissing, the smack of lips meeting skin, hands skimming down fabric, breathing growing heavy. The door to Sebastian's room closes seconds later, but the privacy of Sebastian's room seems to warrant more noise, moans and rushed words and before he knows it he's wide awake, listening to Sebastian fuck another guy in the next room. He longs for the quiet and comfort of home, an empty flat sounds more appealing than this overcrowded one right now.
Until he remembers he carries that emptiness inside, in his heart, and no amount of people around him could chase that away.
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Hi, you've reached the voicemail of Eli C. Leave a message after the beep and I'll return your call as soon as possible.
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"You don't have to do this every night," Sebastian tells him on his fourth night, after he drops his suitcase in the hallway and makes his way into the kitchen.
He's surrounded by pots and pans Cooper swore they hadn't owned before, making them all dinner. He smiles. "I like doing it," he says, thinking it's a strange comment to make, considering Sebastian's had take-out at work since he got here.
Sebastian grabs a beer from the fridge and leans back against it. There's a contemplative silence where he feels Sebastian's eyes pinned on him, and he guesses Sebastian lingers for a reason. "So, you didn't really try to kill yourself, did you?" Sebastian asks.
"What?" He whirls around, shock running through his entire body. He thought he'd settled this at the hospital. Is that what people thought of him now, that he'd actually tried to kill himself after a tough breakup, that he'd try to rid himself of his pain permanently? Is this what his parents thought?
"Coop!" he calls, and once again his name summons his brother to him.
"Bas, we were going to keep that between us," Cooper tells Sebastian; he'd obviously been listening from the other room.
Sebastian shrugs. "He doesn't seem like the type."
"I'm not," he says, waving around the ladle in his hand between Sebastian and his brother like a magic wand. "Look, honestly, I was cleaning out the medicine cabinet, I fell, and hit my head."
Maybe he's still in a coma, maybe this is all an elaborate hallucination he's dreaming up in a hospital bed. Though if that's true he hopes he has a more colorful imagination than this. He really needs to make it clear to Cooper that he can't go and spread this story around.
"See?" Sebastian raises his eyebrows at Cooper, and he gets the feeling Sebastian and Cooper have talked about this behind his back, maybe even before he got here. "That story is way too ridiculous not to be true," he says. "Just like you and your meter maid."
Sebastian looks at him and winks.
He frowns to himself. "Thanks?" he says, surprised that Sebastian reads him better than his brother.
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It takes him five days to muster the courage to venture outside, and when he does it's down to the coffee shop around the corner, a place that held his first memory of Eli, a place he should avoid if he ever planned on mending his broken heart. But he wants to see it again, see if it's changed like him and Eli, see if there was still a point to hanging onto things long gone.
Turns out there is no point. It's still a coffee shop, but it's been modernized, younger baristas and a more colorful décor, the counter moved to the opposite wall, smaller tables. He orders a medium drip without looking the barista in the eye, sits down at a corner table close to where Eli had been sitting four years ago.
He'd been living with Cooper for six months at the time, and he hadn't gone to the coffee shop before because he caught the subway to school in the opposite direction. But then Cooper had to pretend he was an electrician and he'd broken their Wi-Fi right before he needed to send in an essay for his Psychology class and he couldn't afford to send it in late.
He'd rushed down to the coffee shop with only his laptop, walked up to the first table that still had an empty chair and begged its occupant to let him sit so he could save his academic future. That's how he'd met Eli C. Gilligan, second-year med student at Columbia, son of a successful neurosurgeon who'd decided that following in his father's footsteps didn't have to be the end of the world.
They'd talked for hours before exchanging phone numbers, fallen in love faster than he'd thought possible, moved in together only six months later. There were people in his life who'd told him he was giving up too much for a relationship that had started so fast, that Eli used him, but he'd always ignored those pleas in favor of listening to his heart.
The bell above the door jingles and Cooper comes in.
He sighs, wondering if he'll be getting any time to himself at all while he stays with his brother. Cooper walks right up to his table but doesn't sit down. "Blaine, let's go," he orders, no hint of humor in his tone or his face. He doesn't see his brother like this very often.
"I'm not finished."
"Don't you think I know what you're doing here?"
He casts down his eyes. Cooper knows all too well this is where he met Eli; he'd run straight home after meeting Eli and told Cooper all about this amazing guy he'd met, that he was smart and funny and cute. So he also knows what Cooper is accusing him of, of wallowing in the past, reaching back to memories because he has little hope of creating new ones.
"I think I'm allowed–" he starts carefully, but Cooper settles down at the table and fixes his eyes on him.
"Blaine, you have to stop torturing yourself like this," Cooper pleads. "You have to open yourself up to new experiences."
"What, like you and Sarah?" he blurts out, even though he meant to ask after one week? He's not ready to move on or let go, whatever that means in the first place. He hardly remembers life without Eli, moving on would require getting to know himself all over again without a co-dependency he'd cherished. He can't have Eli back, he can't move back in with Cooper. He's stuck.
And he won't hear this from Cooper, not when he's doing the exact same thing.
Cooper blinks. "What do you mean?"
"An open relationship, Coop?" he questions. "You can say what you want about new experiences, but I know you. You're doing this for her."
"There's nothing wrong with that," Cooper says, but he can tell he's hit a nerve. There aren't many things he can't read in his brother's face. "I'm still me."
"So it's only unhealthy when I do it," he concludes, never once before having believed that Cooper was a hypocrite. Cooper's allowed to turn his life around, to change part of who he is or what he wants from a relationship, but clearly he's not allowed to do the same. He realizes belatedly that it's a messed-up logic in any relationship.
"Blaine–"
"No, Coop, don't Blaine me," he interrupts his brother and stands up. "Because it turns out we're both pretty hopeless when it comes to love."
Cooper doesn't follow him out; when he looks back through the window he sees Cooper still seated at the table, staring blankly ahead, considering his words carefully.
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Hi, you've reached the voicemail of Eli C. Leave a message after the beep and I'll return your call as soon as possible.
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It doesn't take him very long to fall into a routine again, one week before he figures out it's best he use the bathroom in between Sebastian and Cooper, because Sebastian gets up early and Cooper gets up shamefully late. Sarah sneaks out even earlier than Sebastian to head to her own apartment first, he assumes, and Sebastian shares his bathroom time with his boyfriend the sparse nights he stays over. Whenever the boyfriend doesn't stay over, Sebastian goes for a run first.
He knows Cooper doesn't eat breakfast, but enjoys a cup of coffee, so he gets up after Sebastian and makes them all a pot, one for the road for Sebastian, one waiting on the table once Cooper decides to grace him with his presence. It's something he does to keep from going crazy, the mingle of bodies in this place enough to make his head spin, but this way he feels like he's contributing to the natural ebb and flow.
He's pouring himself a cup of coffee when he hears the bathroom door open, Sebastian padding towards the kitchen barefoot. He resists the urge to grab Sebastian a bowl from the overhead cupboard–Cooper had told him it was weird he already knew Sebastian had the same thing for breakfast every morning, but he sure never complained when his coffee stood waiting for him as soon as he rolled out of bed. Cooper was right, of course, he was just living with two other guys for a while and catering to their every whim seemed creepily close to how his mother often forced her way into his life.
He crosses the kitchen to get out of Sebastian's way, but almost walks face first into Sebastian's naked torso. "Jesus," he exclaims and steps aside to let Sebastian pass.
Sebastian smiles but doesn't comment, grabbing a bowl, a spoon and some milk, the box of cereal on the kitchen counter.
"Do you ever wear a shirt?" he asks, having trouble keeping his eyes from trailing up Sebastian's back. From his slim waist to his broad shoulders Sebastian is flawless skin all over, beauty spots down his neck, down between his shoulder blades, some stray ones blotted along his spine, the small of his back–
"Cooper doesn't mind," Sebastian says, adding milk to his cereal.
He shakes his head, hating himself for staring. "Yeah–" He clears his throat. "Cooper's–"
Sebastian turns around and raises an eyebrow. "Straight?" he teases as he chucks down a spoonful of cereal.
"Confident," he corrects, perhaps a little too stern, his cheeks burning hot. "I was gonna say–confident."
It's not that he minds Sebastian walking around half-naked every morning, he had a nice body and clearly knew that, but he wasn't some predatory gay. Only he's pretty sure that Sebastian being gay too has made it increasingly harder for him to stop staring.
Sebastian takes a step closer, balancing the bowl of cereal in one hand. "Don't sell yourself short, killer," he says. "You're a catch."
A shuddery breath escapes him, not unaffected by Sebastian's blatant flirting, and for some reason he feels guilty. It's ridiculous, because he doesn't owe Eli any shame, but he still shakes off the remark without comment. Instead, he settles down opposite Sebastian at the kitchen table, palming a hot cup of coffee.
"What exactly is it that you do?"
Sebastian looks up from the newspaper splayed out in the middle of the table. "Why do you want to know?"
"You're my brother's roommate." He shrugs. "I want to get to know you."
Sebastian chuckles. "I'm not sure your brother knows what I do," he says, but ends up explaining the intricacies of everything Schuester & Sylvester hired him to do, filing motions, assisting the senior partners as best as he can, finding loopholes in official documents.
And it's nice, talking to Sebastian about everyday life, even if his life in the corporate lawyer business often sounds more like a film noir he can't understand the plot of than an actual job people do. Sebastian's life seems grand and exciting, and he feels increasingly smaller in his presence, not even finding distraction in the dark spots on his chest.
Sebastian returns the favor by asking him what he does, but he stares down at the table, drawing random patterns on the hard surface, and only answers after Sebastian insists with that dazzling smile.
"I'm a–waiter at the Del Monico," his voice sounds small and somehow he shrinks even further, because it was all Eli's idea, he'd been looking for something he'd actually like doing, but Eli had insisted they needed the money, that he needed the money. He hadn't enjoyed a great many days, his boss Terri a tyrant, most of his fellow waiters equally hateful of their job, their customers often rude and verbally abusive.
But it paid extremely well.
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Hi, you've reached the voicemail of E–
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He's returning from the laundry room in the basement when he hears raised voices coming from the apartment. At first he thinks it has to be coming from the television, but once he pops his earbuds from his ears he realizes the male voice is Cooper's, the woman's Sarah's. They're screaming back and forth about things he can't make out, but it's pretty clear they're both angry and things are getting heated.
He approaches the door carefully, but the voices only become louder and he decides he can't go inside while his brother and his girlfriend are fighting.
Sebastian seems to have thought the same thing, because there's a note on the door for him:
Enter at your own peril.
If not, meet me on the roof.
S.
He tears the note from the door so that Cooper doesn't find it later, but figures he can't decline Sebastian's offer. The last thing he wants to do is become caught between Sarah and his brother. He takes the laundry basket upstairs with him, ascending four flights of stairs before he reaches the door to the roof.
The roof isn't unlike other New York roofs, made to look like a huge terrace, chairs here and there, potted plants in the corners, old colored Christmas lights brightening the scene. A creak sounds to his right, Sebastian seated by himself in a huge canopy swing.
Sebastian throws him a look that says I assume they're still fighting and then pets the empty spot on the cushion next to him. He walks over and sits down next to Sebastian, his legs barely touching the ground, so it's Sebastian who controls the slight sway of the swing.
"They do this sometimes," Sebastian explains. "They fight, they apologize, they make up. Very loudly."
Sebastian offers him a beer from the six-pack standing by his feet.
"I don't drink."
"Not even beer?"
He shakes his head. Sebastian shrugs and unscrews his bottle, flipping the cap into a bucket standing on the building's ledge.
"What do they fight about?" he asks, the only sounds up here the city alive below them.
"She gets jealous," Sebastian answers, taking a swig from his beer.
It's strange, he always figured Cooper as the jealous type. "Coop would never cheat on her," he states. He knows his brother, he'd never give Sarah reason to be jealous. Not on purpose anyway; Cooper could be ridiculously oblivious to the effect he had on women.
"No, he wouldn't," Sebastian agrees. "And she wouldn't cheat on Cooper."
They lapse into a comfortable silence, Sebastian slowly swinging them back and forth and he wonders how often Sebastian's been up here, with or without Cooper and Sarah fighting. It's a nice spot with a great view, especially with the sun going down, the sky a smattering of oranges and reds.
"It's sad really," Sebastian adds as an afterthought. "They're in love, but both too stubborn to admit it."
So Sebastian sees it too, he thinks, it's not such a crazy notion to think that an open relationship was a mistake for Cooper and Sarah. Sebastian knows his brother well for a guy he'd only met a few months ago.
"Where's your boyfriend tonight?" he asks, reminded that Sebastian's boyfriend hadn't been by for a few days while Sebastian hadn't been working the craziest hours. He and Eli spent every free moment of their first year together.
"Who, Nick?" Sebastian asks, and smiles. "He's not really my boyfriend. We're more–casual."
"Oh," he mutters, seriously considering the Life on Mars option again, because how had he ended up living with two guys who had such a loose idea of relationships? Was this life's way of telling him he had to loosen up too?
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Sarah comes and goes.
Nick comes and goes.
Sebastian and Cooper go to work, talk about their lives at breakfast or dinner or both, and he thinks it's his insistence on routine that does him in time and time again. Over the years routine had become his security blanket, if followed precisely nothing could go wrong, there'd be no surprises that could upturn his life, only it left him blind and vulnerable whenever something threatened that routine.
Right now routine keeps him together, stops him from sinking down on the couch to cry some more. Cooper's always a nice distraction, Sarah's interest in his life was refreshing, and Sebastian's guilt over taking his generosity so freely ensures him help in the kitchen on most nights.
He remains, stuck, his phone calls unanswered even though he knows Adam told Eli about his accident, he shuts himself off from old friendships in favor of nurturing his broken heart. He thinks Eli could at least have had the decency to call and ask if he was okay, even if it would be a two minute conversation. He calls Eli, almost every day, but never leaves a message–Eli's phone would tell him who called, and he refuses to lower himself to begging again.
But almost three weeks have gone by and Eli had promised, he'd said they'd talk. If another chance at a relationship was off the table, they needed to decide what to do with their furniture and the apartment.
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He stares down at his phone, thumb hovering over the call button.
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"Where did you learn how to cook?" Sebastian asks, pulling another plate from the dish rack to dry.
Who knew that Sebastian would be his ally when he decided to stay here? He's not sure if it's the suicide story that keeps Sebastian careful, or if he's always this laid-back easy-going kind of guy, but he likes how easy it is to like Sebastian, how Sebastian remains judgment free, unlike Cooper.
"Books mostly." He shrugs. "And the cooks at the restaurant give me advice. Eli–"
"Dude, enough with the Eli," Cooper interrupts their conversation. "Forget him."
The two words strike like lightning, nestling somewhere close to the pain he was already experiencing.
Cooper stands up and puts his plate down in the sink, unaware that he's gone completely still. Unlike his brother, he thinks Sebastian can tell. "He left," Cooper adds. "It's in the past. It's time to move on."
"Coop–" Sebastian warns, but he's already got a foot out the kitchen before Cooper asks 'What?' followed by a 'Where are you going?'.
"I'm getting some air," he answers, snatching his jacket off the couch and heading for the door. It's hard to breathe all of a sudden.
"Hey, Blaine!" he hears Cooper call behind him, but he's in the hallway and at the stairs in three seconds flat.
He can't keep hearing this, he needs to be able to mention Eli without people pointing out his absence. Break-up or not Eli was a part of his life he can't cut away, he can't forget, because in between their relationship there was life, family and friends and work, Eli interwoven with all of them.
"Blaine, wait up." Cooper's footsteps in the hallway "Hey." Cooper catches up with him running down the stairs and stops him by grabbing his arm. "What's wrong?"
"Forget him?" he asks, his voice lowered.
"He left you," Cooper says, dead serious.
It still stabs at him, the absoluteness of it all, Eli had gone from his life without looking back, without mercy, like he thought that ripping off the band-aid quickly would make the pain pass faster. And maybe Eli would be right, maybe this pain would leave him eventually and he'd find some way to mend his heart. But that time won't come soon.
He shakes his head and holds back tears, making his way further down, Cooper following behind silently.
"Come on, squirt, what's wrong?" Cooper asks as soon as they hit the street.
"You're my brother, Coop, you should know I– I can't just forget him."
"Blaine–"
"I had him for four years, Coop!" he shouts, sick and tired of being Blaine-d or belittled, judged for feeling bad that his boyfriend broke his heart, he's tired of trying to hide it so desperately because there are still days where he wants to lie down and cry, open the floodgates and let it overwhelm him. "I took care of him for four years," he adds. "And with one line, six words, he threw that all away."
"You built your life around him for four years!" Cooper shouts back, voice echoing down the street.
It's always the same old song, everyone feels the need to tell him this, to point out how much he gave up but never considered what he got back. Maybe he'd been an idiot not to take a step back for four years, maybe he should've taken moments to analyze their relationship, then maybe it wouldn't have fallen apart. But Eli gave him plenty.
"I expect this kind of thing from mom and dad," he says. "But not from you."
Cooper's blue eyes shine with pain. "You hurt yourself, Blaine."
"Oh my God!" he screams, three weeks of pent up rage breaking free. "No, I didn't! I would never do that!" He'd never kill himself. He went through a tough time in high school, but that was behind him, he'd gone through counselling after transferring schools and he'd gotten better, the school had been better, things had gotten better. He could never do that to himself knowing what he could be missing out on.
"Yes, I'm heartbroken and it hurts, Coop, it hurts so much, but I'm not perfect!" He takes a deep breath, a weight dropping from his shoulders. He'd tried being perfect for far too long. "I wasn't–perfect."
"Is that what this is about? You think you weren't good enough for Eli?"
He throws up his hands. "Why else would he–"
"Blaine, you gave that guy everything," Cooper says. "You quit school, helped pay his tuition. That's not healthy."
He still doesn't want to hear it, least of all from a guy who was giving the girl he loved something he thought she wanted, but Cooper's right. It's not healthy, everyone said it, and he refused to hear it. He was happy with Eli, wrapped up in a secure relationship that maybe even he had taken for granted.
"I'm only saying this because I love you," Cooper says. "You're my baby brother. I want to see you happy."
The realization strikes him with defeat: Eli couldn't make him happy anymore.
"It was–f-four years, Coop," he stutters, tears flooding his eyes. How can he give up on four years?
"I know, little brother." Cooper takes a step closer. "Come here."
Cooper opens his arms and he moves forward tentatively, reaching his arms around his brother. A sob escapes him and Cooper's arms tighten around him as if to say it's okay, let it all out, you can trust me with your pain. He lets his tears flow freely, fingers clinging at Cooper's back, face half-buried in his shoulder. And for the first time in three weeks, he feels like the person holding him could actually keep him together.
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