Plastic
Story by KlaineyDays25
WARNING: Plastic MAY CONTAIN PROFANITIES, SEXUAL ACTS, SUICIDAL THOUGHTS, VIOLENCE, GRAMMATICAL ERRORS AND POSSIBLE FALSE INFORMATION AS YOU PROGRESS INTO THE STORY. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
I do not own glee.
Chapter 9: Regression to the Mean
...
24 hours were up Blaine had another 24 hours more before he hands in his life to some outer entity that shouldn't have even existed.
The poor boy kept his new friend up the whole night, researching evidence of a seemingly non-existent universal collision. They even searched up to see if any dark matter could be detected off of a person who travelled through a fucking White Hole that isn't proven to exist just yet. Hell, there isn't even enough proof to back-up the blackhole theory, so how the Hell are they supposed to find Grinn's origin?
At 2:26am in the morning, Blaine and Deon were sat on Blaine's couch with the taller teen cradling Blaine in his arms as he wept. His eyes were sore, his breath was shaky and he kept on repeating incoherent words that made no sense and then made weird sobbing noises afterwards.
Seeing the consistently brave teen who would risk his life to save another's - anyone's - life crying in the skinny, weak English teen's arms was a shocker to Deon.
Never has he ever seen someone breakdown as hard as Blaine did because he never knew what true heartbreak was.
"I can't- I can't do it, Deon." he finally said, "Not for Arlene, not for Kurt, not for the innocent lives that were lost."
Deon's eyebrows knitted together, pursing his lips and holding Blaine tighter, "Blaine, none of this is your fault."
"But Kurt... my first love and- and Arlene, I just- I-" he choked, coughing a little, "it's like I can't breathe. How- how do they do it?"
"The voices are yelling. They want you to get up - buck up because this is for Kurt, Arlene and the innocent souls. We're not going to stop until we find them we are not going to rest for even a fraction of a second." Deon decided, "We're going to get up," he pushed himself off the couch, pulling Blaine up with him, "and we are going to find help." he said determined as he patted down Blaine's wrinkled clothes.
Deon pulled a tissue and handed it to Blaine, telling him to shut the bloody hell up and stop crying so they can go out in public and not make it as if he just yelled at the poor teen until he cried. The looks would just- ugh. He can't even imagine the looks on their faces if they see Blaine in this condition.
He went to the kitchen and got Blaine a glass of water before they headed out into the real world.
As they walked, Blaine didn't really know where Deon was taking him since he was walking in the front and seemingly knew what he was doing at the moment. But Blaine trusted him, though. He had to. Who else does he have left?
They walked for a few more minutes which felt like hours to Blaine. When Deon announced their arrival to a distracted Blaine, he snapped his head towards the English boy and looked around him to see where they actually were. Behind him stood the local library.
"Are you serious?" Blaine complained impatiently, "What are we gonna do in a lirabry? Check for dark matter with your weird Guide powers-"
"No. This library is filled with all kinds of books. All. Kinds." Deon emphasized.
Blaine looked at him incredulously because is he actually serious? A fucking library?
Deon huffed and shook his head. He grabbed Blaine by the shoulder, squeezing it very painfully and dragged him in through the doors. Once they surpassed the entry, the dark, moss-covered exterior of the library didn't quite match with the bright, vintage interior. The setting of the entire place seemed as if it was newly built; the wallpaper on the walls weren't slowly peeling off, the wooden tiles of the floors weren't cracked or covered in dust, the shelves of the bookshelves weren't tilted to one way and the books looked brand new and well taken care of. There were grand staircases leading to the next level of the library with loads more books. Although in amazing condition, there were no signs labelling the genres of the books, no directory to what goes where, nothing.
At the desk, there was an old lady who manned the computer alone. It was a vast and quiet place because let's face it, who goes to the libraries anymore unless if it's for information that cannot be searched via inter- oh. Blaine thought. That's why they're here.
Deon had disappeared into the row of bookshelves while Blaine just stood in the middle like a fool. He noticed how awkward he must've looked and took off into the row of bookshelves. He walked between two large ones and stopped mid-way when something caught his eye: a book of some sorts. Not just any book, though. It was that type of book that looked old, worn-out and passed down from generation to generation but somehow ended up in a local library.
He pulled it out and, to his surprise, there was no title. At all. Just a blank hardcover front with torn edges and scratched sides. Maybe it was one of those hardcover books with sleeve jackets as covers but it went missing somehow. Either way, this book looked ancient. Whatever family had this must've died out or the previous owner must've had a hard time reading this book because when he flipped through the pages, paragraphs and paragraphs of codes and foreign alphabets swarmed the pages.
"What the hell," he muttered. He decided to bring the book over to a desk and read it there.
When he got to a lonely table in the corner with perfect lighting, he turned to the first page, trying to read the sentences that were in English but somehow, it confused his brain even more.
What the hell are these words?
Am I having a terrible headache today?
Did I seriously inhale that much dust when I pulled it out?
Mountains of questions clouded his already problematic mind and made him think he couldn't read his own language anymore. Panicked, he looked around the room for Deon but he was nowhere to be found. Slowly pushing the chair backwards, he got up and went on his search for the missing English-Zombie boy.
He remembered that Deon had gone upstairs so maybe he was still there?
He looked up to the second floor and- Oh, thank God he's still there and Blaine hasn't gone crazy.
"Deon," he hissed.
Deon snapped his head around and his eyes were instantly directed to the book Blaine his in his arm. "Where'd you find that book?" He asked.
"Uh, downstairs?" "Has it got any words you don't understand?"
"A lot of words, actually. Majority of it's English and I can't read that either."
Deon snatched the book from Blaine and brought it over to a small desk by the side and read through it a little, stopping occasionally for second-glances before turning to the next pages. "Blaine, this is Gaelic." He stated.
"Gaelic? You know how to read that?"
"I mean, I can try."
He went in closer and started reading the Gaelic words, "T'was the dawn of time where man had reached near limitless knowledge. Or so they thought." the short paragraph wrote.
Confused, Blaine asked Deon what that actually meant. And the reply Deon came back with wasn't the one Blaine was hoping for.
"We came in touch with the other side; the afterlife. Souls that died unhappy could not stay put in front of the gates, so they left and wandered around this world, bodiless and mindless. Some people, well, they were born... special. Gifted with abilities to see into more than the living. They saw the lost souls with such incompleteness it tore them apart. Some abused the power, so in return, the souls haunted their remaining lives. That's why many people fear the afterlife."
But Grinn isn't from the afterlife... Grinn didn't die and come back to life, he was a myth. Should be a myth. None of this was supposed to be true because who the hell thinks of this stuff to be true? Abnormal people.
Deon fell silent for a moment, reading the heading of each page. He flipped to the front and read the contents carefully, analysing each word as many times as he can just in case he skipped something important.
"This book," he started, "something about this book makes it so hard to read. Even the ones I do make sense of eventually."
"Do you know what it is?"
"Magic. This book has magic all over it. It's like we're the fox to this magical book. I heard that in ancient Japanese folklore, reading is like wordplay to a sly fox, a Kitsune I might add." Now what the fuck is that?
Deon might have noticed the face on Blaine and said that he'd tell him about it later. Right now, finding out Grinn's origin was what's most important. "You know, you could've given up something less valuable than your life." Deon chided.
Blaine pursed his lips and took a short breath in, "For Kurt, anything is worth it." he said stubbornly.
Deon rolled his eyes at Blaine's unbelievable amount of love for a man that shouldn't have even existed anymore.
For someone with so much bad luck, Kurt turned out to be pretty lucky with Blaine in the end. Well, this isn't the end. This cannot be Kurt's end. He's only 26. He can't just- and Arlene... this is Deon's one chance to make it right with Arlene. To correct their history. To be Soulmates. They cannot mess this up even for a fraction of a millisecond, they can't. Because if they do then God forbid all hell breaks lose; Deon goes back to the gates, Kurt is taken back to the house where Grinn kills him, Blaine is dragged into the abyss of his own mind and killed there, Arlene will disappear in thin air and Grinn? Grinn thrives. He lives on. This was all he wanted.
Deon becomes so lost in his own mind, he goes silent for a solid five minutes before he is snapped back to reality by a frantic Blaine.
"Were those five minutes in your own thoughts worth something?"
"No." Deon sighed, pursing his lips.
Blaine frowned and squirmed in his seat. Time was running out fast because it was already 8:45 in the morning. How the hell are they gonna keep the progress going consistently while trying not to starve?
"What happens if we don't make it in time? If we don't find all the answers?" Blaine asked, propping himself up on his elbows as he leaned a little closer towards Deon, "Well, I don't particularly know but that was exactly what I was thinking about the last five minutes. I'm going back to sitting in front of big rusty gates, Kurt is going to be dragged back to the house and killed there, Arlene-"
"Wait, what did you say about Kurt?"
"What? That he'd be dragged back to the house?" Deon asked like it wasn't the most obvious thing in the world. "Which house?" Blaine arched and eyebrow.
"The Chances'?"
At that, Blaine leaped out of his seat, nearly knocking it over. The screech of wood against marble was loud enough for it to echo through the library and turn heads of the startled and pissed off readers. Some hushed him while others grumbled in their own silence. Blaine hurried to grab Deon's arm, very tightly squeezing it and ran out the door with the book. Deon smacked him in the head when he realized that Blaine had forgotten about basic library rules and dragged him back in, made him sign into his account, and finally and officially borrowed the book then ran back out.
Lima was freezing and it wasn't even that snowy yet. Blaine shivered a little as they ran back to the Chance House, the cold dusk of wind smacking Blaine in the face like a thin frostbite that was yet to form. It felt like opening a freezer while living in the arctic. Whatever it felt like didn't matter because they needed to get back to the house. While running, Deon caught free of his arm and checked his wrist watch. He felt his heart drop when he read the time.
16 hours. 16 hours was all they had left.
Blaine didn't even care for when he heard cameras flash and reporters run after him when he ran past them and jumped over the gates. Deon just... well, he floated. Yeah, he could do that.
The curly-haired boy forcefully kicked the door down and rushed in with Deon running behind him.
The poor English boy didn't know where his friend was even going when they ran upstairs because he could've sworn he felt the house shake a little as they climbed up the stairs, making him naseous and lose balance, sending him crashing to the stairs. It felt like the house was going to fall with them, trapping Blaine and him as it went down. This was not how he was gonna die again. Hell no.
Deon finally reached the top of the staircase and walked into a room where Blaine stood, staring at the reflection that stared back at him. He looked like he had lost all hope. No, all hope was taken from him.
"Blaine," Deon said, resting a hand on the boy's shoulder.
Blaine just kept... just kept staring at the mirror, like- like there was something there. Someone.
"I- I swear I- this is the room. This was the room Kurt and Arlene-" he stuttered, getting frustrated that he did. They now had 14 hours left before this all ends in heart ache. Blaine yelled, stomping up and down. "Blaine, calm down. Take a breather, sit down and think while I find something that could help us.
Deon walked out of the room and down the empty halls while Blaine found a place in the corner and sat down there aggressively so. He closed his eyes and let his thoughts take over him while at the same time making sure he doesn't somehow fall so deep into his mind that he loses complete track of time.
While thinking, he remembered what his grandfather once told him, regression to the mean. It means that when something is bad, it doesn't stay bad forever. Somehow, it will be good again and while something is good, it can't stay good forever. It's like the middle of all middles; a fine line in the very middle of the middles if that makes sense to you because being a four-year-old, it confused the Hell out of Blaine.
Just then, he heard his name being called from the next room, the muffled voice definitely was Deon because he and Blaine were the only two in that house but what if Deon was yelling because there was someone else in there with him?
...
Author's Notes
So... Plastic is ending soon. See you in the next chapter and please don't yell at me if you get to read the final chapter. I had to. I just had to because... I'm Rain and I'm a terrible author.
Rain, (22nd December, 2017)