NOTE: This is a little bit of a filler chapter, but it's necessary for plot. Might rework it slightly later, but I wanted to post so I could get to the next chapter. Thank you all so much for following this, and reviewing for me. It makes my day when I get those little "TBS has a new review" e-mails :] I love the Seblaine community!
Blaine is sitting at his desk absentmindedly chewing on the top of his pen. His feet are slack underneath his desk, stretching out below a classmate's in front of him.
He's been working on it, being stronger, because he's sick of being miserable.
He's sick of laying in the dark wishing his life had been different. Blaine is so tired- so tired- of walking into a room and thinking of ways to disappear, so he's figuring things out. Even if he's not exactly sure what he should be 'figuring.'
He was doing fine before, he supposes, but now that there's a reminder those monsters are still out there and they're waiting for an opportunity to strike again, he can't- he just, can't anymore.
Sebastian's been helping him with it. It's those little things that build him up, making him believe recovery is possible, and Blaine is grateful to have such a close friend.
Sebastian talks him through the nightmares now, staying up with him when he's afraid to fall asleep, but Blaine's positive it won't last long. With March arriving in a few weeks Sebastian's lacrosse schedule will pick up considerably, so all Blaine has is a head full of words and a heart full of sand. He's digging deeper these days, but still coming up short.
He hopes that he'll discover that bravery sooner rather than later.
"You're safe here, B. My dad's the best detective in all Ohio, and he's got a paycheck to prove it." Sebastian accompanies it with some kind of suggestive wink. Blaine can never understand what that boy is thinking, so he nods. "Either that or my mom's not as big of a parasitic opportunist as I thought." He shrugs, "Whatever, you get what I'm trying to say."
"I know." Blaine replies, staring into the black of their room. Even though he'd rather be staring into green. "Thanks."
Blaine wants to believe him. He's always found, something, in his voice- his actions, but Blaine's stuck because they're free. Those men are out there, right now, doing god knows what- planning more attacks, planning to ruin more lives, and the police don't even have a lead!
He'd know if they did, wouldn't he? Wouldn't Sebastian?
'He doesn't know.'
Blaine feels his stomach go into knots, very briefly, before he calms himself down. Sebastian's still talking to him, even though he- knows, so he has no reason to worry about that anymore.
Sebastian doesn't make him feel worthless or juvenile, he makes him feel like, Blaine. Maybe that's why he's been able to stay decently calm as days stretch into nights and nights into day.
His life at Dalton hasbeen much easier since he and Sebastian had their talk- Blaine stops chewing, hoping he hasn't jinxed himself- but he still feels like something's coming. He can feel it in his bones. Deep down in his very core, like a slowly approaching storm keeping him nimble on his feet.
It's telling him to prepare for the worst.
Hasn't that already happened, though? Blaine has a multitude of loose ends as it is- old dreams of New Directions, of Kurt. Sebastian knows, Blaine's spent hours explaining his dreams, but he won't share his opinions.
They sit in the dark together, and listen to the fan. Whack, whack, whack, as Blaine mulls over why he's scared and what he can't get past. Sebastian says those dreams are something Blaine needs to figure out on his own, but maybe Sebastian's troubled about what he might find there.
Blaine knows he is.
He's been working on listening to himself lately. His mind has been so frantic that he's been too impatient to untangle his thoughts. Sebastian says that Blaine needs to learn how to climb over his walls, but what exactly are they made out of?
"You're still, Blaine. You know? I was just trying to find out who that was."
Blaine wants to show him, bad, to prove that he's past it and feel like the Blaine he used to be. He misses that thrum of energy constantly flowing inside him. This want is more than that, it's a need, and he knows he'll get there. It's a just a matter of when, if not how, it will happen.
He wants to be normal again.
Sebastian says he is normal, said he's strong- Blaine starts chewing again- so what's standing in his way of accepting that? It's easier to smile now, around his new friends and sometimes when he's alone, but he's nervous.
He's scared to enjoy it to long, because what if it's taken away? Like- like his- God... He's having a hard time finding a silver lining. Blaine settles on the notion that he's broken. He's gotten pretty good at giving up, hasn't he?
It's risky when Blaine lets himself get lost in thought like this, even though it's imperative to his recovery, and just as he remembers that moving on means forgiving yourself and getting out of your past, he hears his name crisp and clear from across the classroom in the present.
"Mr. Anderson!" it trills, "You're here, but are you awake? Hellloooo? Anyone in there?"
"Sor-sorry Miss Holiday."
He hears snickering from behind him. Without delay, the random guffaws from unnamed students send red to his cheeks. Blaine goes back to focusing on self-reparation. Can he actually make it happen? How can he make nice with himself if he has so many regrets? He frowns down across his desk as the bell rings.
He discovers Puck's at his desk in an instant. The slap of Puck's hands against the wood breaks his dynamic. "Dude. You alright?"
"M' fine, Puck." He groans through laced hands, putting down his pen.
Puck studies his body language for a second before handing Blaine his backpack. "She was calling you for like, four minutes. You looked like you were having heart failure. You looked- I don't know- dead or something."
If only. Blaine thinks sarcastically. It's a matter of time before those monsters find me anyways.
Puck, knowing he'll get nowhere, leaves for his next class. Blaine figures it's because he's dealt with worse. After all, his best friend can be pretty mean when he's in a mood, and Puck's probably fed up with matters concerning bad tempers.
By the time lunch rolls around, Blaine's still problem solving. It's a step in the right direction, but he needs a way to get out of his head. It's a cycle, a never-ending circle of Sebastian and Kurt, the attack and then the police station.
Or maybe it's that one thing that bothers him most…. The fact that people know, Sebastian knows. Here we go again. He gets dizzy just thinking about it.
Blaine orders a medium drip and chocolate biscotti. He adds in a particular amount of cinnamon- something Kurt had never been fond of- and huffs down into a leather chair. What is it with Dalton and leather? He fumes, sticking to the material. Great, now I'm angry at furniture. Get yourself together Blaine.
"What's up little man?"
Blaine sighs, and sits up straighter. "Hey."
"Mind if Puckzilla joins you?"
"Not at all. Sorry about earlier," he pinches his nose, "I'm just really stressed out."
"Dude, I know stressed." Puck's eyebrows shoot straight up as he bites into his mozzarella Panini. "Trust me, I almost had a kid." Blaine notes to ask him about that later. They enter a pocket of silence, Blaine drinking and Puck chewing, until Puck decides to speak again. "You're to uptight," he gestures, "Look at you all tied up like a birthday present."
Blaine loosens his tie, suddenly self-conscious about his physicality. "So?"
"I'm just saying," he shrugs.
Puck finishes his sandwich and looks around the room, perhaps in attempt to gather his thoughts. He turns back to Blaine, snatches his biscotti and follows him up; mouth full of chocolate, "You should come to one of my boxing classes. Get some of that stress out. Mano a mano, like those Spanish dudes say. Bet you'd love it." He waves the biscotti at Blaine and flicks it like a wand.
He can't resist the lively expression that takes over his face, so he steals his snack from Puck and raises an eyebrow, relishing in the feeling of invitation. "I think I'll pass. Mano a mano doesn't sound like much fun."
"That was an order from Dr. Puckaroni. Boxing on Sunday, be there or face my wrath."
"Not intimidated, Puck." Blaine swirls the biscuit in his coffee, closing his eyes to the wonderful smell of cinnamon and chocolate. For a second he feels like he's in a different place entirely. It's funny how something scents can do that.
"You don't need to push me away, bro, I'm just trying to help. Should I start calling you mini-Sebastian?" Puck's instigating, Blaine can tell, but he's not sure what the other is trying to expose.
Blaine knows he's going to end up accepting Puck's invite, but he's enjoying their small talk so he plays along, standing up for his roommate in the process.
"Sebastian doesn't push people away." He says matter-of-factly. Puck smirks at him, implying Blaine knows something that Blaine's sure he doesn't. "What?"
Puck stares for a moment, crossing his arms over the table and shifts forward slightly, "Nothing, nothing."
"Stop that!" Blaine laughs, only out of nerves. Puck's jabs are frustrating him. Usually these things don't bother him, but he's spent the entire day deciphering codes in his ownmind, now Puck's expecting him to figure more out? Impossible.
"I'm not doing anything." Puck grins, leaning back into his chair. "So are you coming with?"
Blaine feels something contort inside. He was just standing up for Sebastian. That's all. Is that a crime? His roommate may have some bad habits, but he's still a good guy. A great guy! He stays up with me when I have nightmares! Blaine wants to shout. So what was Puck insinuating?
He can't let the other's comment slide, "I don't know. You were looking at me funny."
"I look at everyone whose stupidly love struck like that." Blaine kicks Puck under the table, blushing furiously with understanding. "Ow! Fine, don't come." Puck stands up melodramatically, limping a little as he picks up his own bag.
"I'm coming."
"Gross." Puck jests, turning his back on the table. He waves over his shoulder, "See you Sunday, bro!"
Blaine waves back, invisible and confused.
As soon as his friend is gone his mind explodes.
He shoves his coffee down on the table and lets out the breath he had been holding. Shit. Does Sebastianlike him like that?Does he like Sebastian like that? Even though- there's no way.
There's absolutely no way. If Puck knew what they know… the secret they share. There's just, no way. Impossible. They're friends. Friends, help each other out. That's all they've been doing. He ignores the blush still warm and at home on his face.
Maybe it's time he took a break from all this thinking.
He caps everything away again, nerves jittery, reminding himself that Sebastian has a certain lifestyle, and even if he wanted to he couldn't provide what Sebastian needs the most.
He's not Dane. He doesn't play sports or send flirty text messages. He doesn't have stupidly pliant hair or dress straight, and he doesn't have washboard abs or long arms and legs.
He doesn't- he can't really- he doesn't even love himself yet. He sighs, how could he love someone else? Puck doesn't know what he's talking about, he tells himself, he's just messing with you. Misinterpreting signs…
Feeling a little better, he indulges in cinnamon and chocolate.
But this- he takes another bite- this I could love.
Maybe he's better off alone.