Cadenza
By: RavenHeart101
Summary: Summer camp is something that Puck always dreaded. When he accidentally signs up for a football and music camp he's stuck sharing a room with the one person everyone else seems to hate. The gay kid from Marion Middle School.
Disclaimer: I am gladly NOT Ryan Murphy. I am not any member of the band Queen. Meaning that I do not own their song "Somebody to Love". Nor am I whomever owns "Free Fallin'" since I forgot to include that part last chapter.
Warnings: Slash (male/male), swears, homophobia, mature themes, gay bashing/bullying, parental issues, sexual situations, sex, substance abuse on minors, smoking with minors, ect.
A thanks to those who reviewed: Goldstars4me (Haha. I'll try to stay awesome. I make no promises though.), CanAnyoneHearMe (I'm back! Paul is Blaine's boyfriend as of now. Feel free to go back and read whenever you want. I promise I won't mind.), Salem Fae Carrol (What song were you listening to, exactly? I didn't really mean for it to be so sad... But I figure with the subject matter now, it's bound to be depressing.), perchance to wake (Isn't he? And, imagine, he doesn't even know that he loves Blaine yet. XD), eaglegirl1202 (Well think about how much it took him to write that letter? He had to relearn how to write, with his left hand instead of his right this time. I understand being happy for him. :D), lillikitty (Well you won't have to wait long!), omgbelle (Yes! An update! Oh that look is so predictable. XD And yeah, poor Greyson. I'd hate to be in his place.), and Aledda (I'll have you know I was waiting for your review before I was to post the chapter or even start working on it. I was all: I CAN'T POST WITHOUT ALEDDA'S REVIEW!).
A:N – I want the rain to change into a huge snow storm so I can have no school or drivers ed tomorrow.
This Chapter: Not everything has gotten better. Blaine's still not allowed to go back to the camp and his grandmother is visiting him in the hospital. Couple that with the return of Paul and you're in a for a bag of not good.
Chapter Ten. Part Two.
It wasn't that Blaine hated his grandmother. He just really disliked whenever she visited. She was so... he didn't even know what she was. She was rude and yet polite at the same time. She was set in stone. She was unmovable. And she seemed to have this belief that with enough prayer anything could be fixed.
He picked at the sheets the pooled over his legs, staring down at his hands that lied tightly clasped in his lap in an attempt to hide the embarrassing trembles. Funny. He never found them embarrassing around people like Noah or Lily or Danielle or Greyson or Cameron. But... well the moment his father or his grandmother walked in the room Blaine's face began heating up and his hands trembling became the most noticeable thing in the world.
Well... at least he wasn't alone this visit.
Greyson snapped his gum, leaning forward in his chair and sliding the magazine he was holding into Blaine's lap, shuffling over so that he was sitting on the bed beside the younger Anderson. He wrapped an arm around his brother, hoping to distract him from the conversation about police and responsibility and hate crime and 'how in the world is that hate, Nathan? They may have hurt my grandson, but he needs to learn that this lifestyle just isn't right'.
"What do you think? Brittany's going crazy again." He comment dryly, tightening his grip on Blaine when the teen leaned forward to see what it was Greyson was talking about, the long bandage on his neck being exposed for only around the third time Greyson had ever seen it. Two more inches to the right and they would have gotten his brain stem. Two more inches to the right and Greyson wouldn't have a little brother to be holding anymore.
He blinked away the tears and the anger, hiding the frustration until he was alone with Cameron or coaching the football game at his old camp and could let off steam without being judged. "Only she could shave her head and still end up on every tabloid in the world." Blaine teased the artist lightly, tapping the picture with his right pointer finger, the tangle of hands never separating.
Greyson frowned. "Dad wouldn't let me pick up Vogue for you or I totally would. I know this trashy shi-stuff isn't really your type of thing."
"Not like I'd be able to read it anyway." Blaine shrugged lightly, sighing and flipping another page in the magazine.
"Wait!" Greyson leaned over the hospital bed, grabbing his book bag and pulling it up to rest in his lap. "Puck asked me to give you something. As did Lil and Dani."
He took out three perfectly wrapped presents, Happy Birthday sprinkled around the generic paper. Blaine frowned. It wasn't his birthday yet. Was it? He didn't think it was. "I know they're a few days early and all, but I figured why make you wait? You're bored enough as it is." Greyson ruffled his hair placing the presents in Blaine's lap in replacement for the trashy magazine, throwing it in his bag and placing it back on the floor. "Go on. Open them."
But Blaine didn't understand. No way was it his birthday yet.
Confusion muddled his mind, a headache beginning to form behind his eyes. It didn't make any sense.
He knew he didn't remember things. He knew he had been out for three weeks and had been in the hospital so far for five. But it didn't make sense. It wasn't his birthday. Not yet.
It was like there was some distant memory tugging at his mind. Like a smell or a sound or a song that you recognize, yet can't seem to place until it's spelled out for you. But Blaine didn't even think that he'd be able to remember what it was that was screaming at him to remember if someone told him about it. "It's not my birthday." The words came out before he could stop them. And he realized his mistake a moment too late.
He flushed because that was stupid. It was his birthday. Well, it was his birthday in a few days. But it was close to his birthday. "Don't be confused dear, of course it's your birthday." His grandmother chastised him as lightly as she could get.
His father sat down in the corner of the room as she spoke – as they spoke – flipping open some file and reading through it as though there was no one else in the room. "I-I know it... I know it's my birthday I just... I don't..."
"It's fine, Bee." Greyson smiled at him, nudging the presents in his lap. "You don't have to open them if you don't want to."
But Blaine did want to. He wanted to really bad. He particularly wanted to open the one that Noah had given him. Which made no sense because didn't he have a boyfriend? "Don't be foolish Greyson, darling. Of course he does. His friends gave them to him." And oh God, Paul... What happened to Paul? Where was Paul? Was he okay? Did he get out okay?
"Paul...-" His eyebrows creased in confusion and worry.
His grandmother's face grew a fierce determination that Blaine tended to reference to his father whenever someone put in a particularly horrible complaint about the restaurant. Greyson was the only person Blaine really cared about looking for at the moment though because Greyson had to know if Paul was okay. Greyson had to know because Greyson was the only person who was honest around him in his family nowadays. And-and... maybe it was stupid, but some childish part of him was telling him that Greyson knew everything. That Greyson had always known everything because Greyson's his big brother. "He's fine." Greyson reassured as quickly as he could. "He got out with a minor concussion and a broken arm. He's fine, Bee-"
Blaine let out a breath, steadying himself back against Greyson's arm. "Who's Paul?" His grandmother demanded of him, her face suddenly pressed against his own. Blaine jumped back, happy when Greyson's steady arm tightened over his shoulders.
"M-my boyfriend-"
"So you've been tainting yourself with this sin even more than before!" She shrieked, her voice high, loud, and powerful.
"Grandmother-!"
"You stay out of this Greyson Alexander!" Greyson's jaw clenched in anger, his teeth grinding together. "What did you do with that sinful nature of yours? Did you kiss him?"
"I-... Grandmother-"
"Be honest with me Blaine Mitchell!"
"Yes!"
"You can come back from that darling." And, suddenly, she was sweet and caring and trying to mend everything again. Blaine curled away from her, leaning more heavily into Greyson than he had been before. She sat down next to him, taking his hand in her own wrinkling palm and holding it gently to her chest. "Just be honest and tell me that you have not slept with him."
"I..." Her face fell when his forehead crinkled in confusion.
"You did not sleep with him, Blaine Mitchell. You did not cross into the devil's territory and refuse to be given salvation!"
"I... Grandmother-" The memory was there. It was right at the tip of his brain. Why couldn't he remember it? Why was he unable to tell his grandmother that he hadn't had sex with Paul? Why did it feel like a lie even when he told himself that he didn't? Had he? There was this week that he didn't even remember. Could he have had sex with Paul during that week?
"Remember darling." She gripped his arms tight in her hands. "This is very important, Blaine. This could mean salvation or hell for all of eternity. Did you give yourself over to the devil?"
"I don't..." He looked over at Greyson in desperation, his vision beginning to swim in tears.
"Remember darling. Just remember what happened that night and everything will be okay." But Blaine had a feeling that everything wouldn't be okay even if he did what his grandmother was telling him.
"Grey-"
"He can't help you, darling. You have to remember, Blaine."
Only Blaine didn't remember not remembering and the doctor said that that was normal and Cameron had told him not to worry about it because the more worried about it the more apt he was to end up accidentally hurting himself and that wouldn't be good. "I-... I don't want to remember Grandm-"
"Remember!" She gripped his arms tighter and suddenly Greyson was lunging forward, throwing her off him as much as he could without hurting her.
"Get off of him!" He pushed her back once more, his hazel eyes lightened in protective anger.
Bitter silence filled the hospital room. Their father had jumped to his feet, his file fallen to the ground. "You apologize to your grandmother right now, Greyson." Nathan Anderson's familiar eyes fell onto his youngest son, unemotional... businesslike. "And you. You can't give your grandmother one thing, Blaine? One thing. All she wants from you is for you to remember whether or not you had sex with that boy!"
"He sustained a very serious injury to his head, dad! He can't remember!" Greyson stood in a manner that was meant to protect Blaine from harm. But words were almost more painful than the scar on his neck. His bruises throbbed with each deep breath. His eyes were wide and filled with tears. His breath was uneven. His hands were trembling at a rate that was out of control. He felt as though he was going to be sick. He felt as though his whole body was about to begin shaking at any moment.
"You did it, didn't you? You gave yourself over to the devil!" His grandmother shrieked at him. "Devil child! Devil child!"
"Get out!" Greyson's voice raised to levels it had never reached before.
And they did get out. Or she got out. Blaine wasn't really sure. Except suddenly he was breathing as normally as he could and Greyson and his father were having some pretty harsh words outside of his room and someone was sneaking in and they looked male. His heart jumped into his throat. Was it Paul? Blaine was pretty sure he didn't want Paul at that moment. Which was weird because Paul used to be all Blaine wanted.
But now he wanted nothing more than to be held in a pair of strong arms and smell the musky scent of the trees and chlorine and sweat and generic cologne. He wanted Noah.
And he didn't get what he wanted.
Instead he got neither Paul or Noah. He got Wes. Which he figured wasn't so bad. Wes was a nice guy. "Blaine..."
But that was all it took. His name. And then he was breaking at the seams, tears flowing down his cheeks and rib cracking sobs ripping out of his throat, never mind the trembling hand that was pressed so tightly against his mouth. "Oh, God. Don't cry." Wes leaned over, gathering him in his arms for a tight hug. A comforting hug. One that felt almost as good as Greyson's hugs. "I'm so sorry I didn't get here earlier. But God Blaine you have to know that you don't have to remember. You don't have to."
"I want to remember." Only Blaine wasn't sure if he actually wanted to remember. Or if he simply wanted his father to stop yelling at him to remember. Remember Winnie, remember. The old Hocus Pocus quote stuck itself in his mind. He only wished it was the protagonist in the movie that was supposed to remember, and not the lead antagonist.
What did that make him?
Wes sat forward in the chair, his face in his hands and his shoulders slumped. When he had signed up for this mentor program last year he had never thought it would lead to something like this. To someone like this. To someone like Blaine: someone so gifted and lovingly adorable that it was like looking at an injured puppy every time he looked anything less than happy.
"Who are you?" Wes's head snapped up at the unfamiliar intrusion. Blaine had finally fallen asleep; the nurse had given him some sort of sedative when she had visited and saw him sobbing and repeating over and over again that he just wanted to remember. Greyson and Mister Anderson had been escorted out of the hospital by security, told to sort things out, and banned from the hospital for the night. So, Wes could say that he took their place as guardian for the night.
But this blonde... Wes didn't know him.
He looked around his age, with blonde shaggy hair and blue eyes. He was tall. Well, taller than Blaine anyway. Around the same height as David. He was a bit gangly. He had this ugly scar under his right eye that looked generously new. "I could ask you the same question."
Wes didn't like him. "I'm Paul Ottor. Blaine's boyfriend."
"Wesley Monroe." Damn him and his manners. Sometimes Wes really resented how he was raised. "Blaine's... friend."
Or at least Wes hoped he was Blaine's friend. The two of them had grown pretty close during the school year. "Pleasure."
Except Paul didn't seem all that happy to meet Wes. Not that Wes wasn't feeling the same sort of apprehension around him as he was sure Paul was feeling. "So... Paul..."
"I just..." He lifted up a baby blue bag, waving it in Wes's face before placing it at the edge of his bed. "Can you make sure he gets this?"
He dug through his pocket and pulled out a rather worn looking folded piece of paper, handing it over to Wes with a cautious frown on his face. "Of course." Wes took it from him, placing it on the bedside table.
"Thank you." And then he was staring at Wes, almost like he wanted him to look away. But there was something about this guy that Wes really didn't trust. So he didn't turn away. He kept a level gaze, watching as Paul leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on Blaine's cheek before turning around and walking away.
Wes stared after him for a moment, uncrossing his legs and gazing over at the closed letter with a curious expression on his face. Would it be considered snooping if he read it?
Unconsciously his hand reached out and touched the worn piece of notebook paper, opening it and deciding that if it turned into anything he didn't think he should be reading he'd close it.
Blaine,
Remember when I told you that, if given the chance, I'd ask God to make me straight? Well I have that chance now. Please don't take this the wrong way. I love you. I really do. And you are so beautiful.
But I'm sorry that I helped you continue this life of sin. I live in it already. I feel horrible for dragging you into it as well.
I didn't believe all that stuff about straight camps. And, to be honest, I'm still a little apprehensive, but my parents found one that they'd like me to try out. And I'm willing to try. Blaine... I can try for my parents. If it means that they'll love me again I'll try anything.
So I'm sorry. And if it doesn't work out, I want you to know that I'll be all yours.
I won't ask you to wait for me. That seems simply too selfish.
Don't be angry with me.
Get some help. I am. And I have a feeling that I will be so much happier with myself when I come back.
Love for the last time as a boyfriend,
Paul
Wes pressed his lips together, staring at Blaine for a moment before looking back at the letter. Could Blaine handle this? Did Wes really know him well enough to make that decision for him?
He folded it up and slipped it into Greyson's jacket pocket that he had left in his haste.
It seemed like it was more a decision for his brother to make.
Noah shifted in his footing, wincing as his sore ankle hit the muddy ground below. He had twisted it in a horrible tackle during practice earlier that day and it still was giving him problems. He sighed, happy when he made it back to the cabin to the far right in one piece. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep it off.
Only, from the sounds of things that wasn't going to happen anytime soon.
He paused in wonder, a blinding smile breaking out across his face when it struck him what exactly it was that he was hearing.
"Can anybody find me somebody to love?." Everyone chimed in for the beginning, just like it was written for them to do.
Lily took a deep breath, tightening her grip on her paper and looking across the stage at the boy she was meant to sing with, dark skin and even darker hair. David if she remembered correctly. A friend of Wes. Who was a friend of Blaine.
Blaine.
She shut her eyes tightly and prepared herself for her cue. "Each morning I get up I die a little. Can barely stand on my feet."
"Take a look in the mirror and cry. Lord what you're doing to me." This David guy had a pretty good voice. Lily was impressed.
"I have spent all my years in believing you. But I just can't get no relief, Lord! Somebody. Oh, somebody. Can anybody find me... somebody to love?" It was a slower version than Noah was used to but he couldn't bring himself to complain. He slowly pushed open the door, his smile even wider than it had been before.
Softly, and with a delicacy Noah didn't even know he was capable of, he sat down beside Blaine on the bed, his hand resting itself on top of Blaine's thigh with a small smile. The smile he got in response was enough to make Noah sing along.
"I work hard every day of my life. I work till I ache my bones." A brunett picked up the next line, his smooth tenor sounding perfect.
"At the end I take home my hard earned pay all on my own -." Noah sang passionately to the slower tune, getting as into it as he could, the pain in his ankle disappearing from the forefront of his mind.
"I get down on my knees. And I start to pray. Till the tears run down from my eyes, Lord!"
"Somebody – somebody. Can anybody find me - somebody to love?" Same conclusion with the group. They were sounding so fantastic.
"Everyday - I try and I try and I try -"
"But everybody wants to put me down. They say I'm goin' crazy!" Noah had forgotten how perfect of a voice Blaine had. He had forgotten the power it had, the pure pull and drive and emotion that Blaine voice manged to have. With each breath Noah felt compelled to get closer and closer and closer.
"They say I got a lot of water in my brain. Got no common sense. I got nobody left to believe. Yeah - yeah yeah yeah." Danielle sang this with a blonde haired boy this time, their voices blending nicely.
Lily felt chills as the song continued.
"Got no feel, I got no rhythm. I just keep losing my beat."
"I'm ok, I'm alright. Ain't gonna face no defeat."
"I just gotta get out of this prison cell! Someday I'm gonna be free, Lord!" And then Noah couldn't handle it anymore. With his hand on Blaine's thigh he leaned over and pressed his lips against Blaine's own. It was gentler than their last kiss. Oh their last kiss that Noah was oh so ashamed of.
He felt Blaine stiffen for a moment before he felt his lips move against his own, his hazel eyes fluttering shut and his head tilting to the side for better access. Noah had a feeling that Blaine had gotten some practice over the span of the school year and, for some reason, that caused something Noah had began to call the "Jealousy Monster" to flair up in his stomach.
But Noah didn't want to think about that anymore.
He wanted to think about how his tongue was pressing against Blaine's lips. How his hand was on his thigh, so very close to his crotch. How Blaine's own hand as on his neck, and the other fisted in the waist of Noah's shirt.
Noah didn't want to think of anything except the slide of Blaine's lips over his own and how fireworks were exploding in his stomach with each second and that, even after a year of not doing this kissing thing they did, Blaine's kiss was still the best kiss he had ever tasted.
"Can anybody find me somebody to love?"
The last note reverberated throughout the performance area, the curtain falling the moment the song ended and the performers breaking into cheers.
A: N – Once again, kiss was not planned. You know what? I think I'm just going to let this story take me where it wants to take me. Oh and I totally have that whole "Dalton Fight Club" thing planning out in my head for this story so... Yeah... This story is slowly morphing into something I didn't plan.
Next Chapter: Did Greyson give Blaine Paul's letter? How did he react if he did? Now that Blaine's back at camp there's no reason for Wes to stay, right? And who are Nick, Jeff, and David? More importantly, is Dalton a valid choice? Lots of questions. So little answers.