A/N: …things you needed to know to understand…, also, I love Ty. I had never cried because of something I wrote…, now I have.

I want Wes to be a character in this story, not merely a function, so it feels important to me to tell you more about him, and the people in his life.

Tears Stained

Chapter Eight: Piled

It has never in his life done Wes any good, any good at all, to be confined to one space, no matter how roomy it could be considered by onlookers.

With eyes not free to roam, unable to at least feel like he has the power to shift his own horizon, Wes's feeling of unease turns into ache every time. Today, sitting on this airplane, is no exception.

With the light outside the small window having stopped changing at a speed noticeable, there has been too long already nothing but a white wall of clouds to busy his mind with.

The white-washed wall of his dorm room, two nights ago, after Jeff's phone call, had been a relief to look at – lending focus to Wes while he had tried to sort through the mess of thoughts twirling in his mind.

Right now though he is wishing for distraction from the thoughts turned over and over, already one time too many, in his mind - now beginning to thoroughly scrape the insides of it raw with every turn more.

The blank canvas of water clotted as white mist, pilled one structure upon the other, dominating his vision, feels akin to torture.

His eyes are aching already when he soon turns away from the sight and closes them, the darkness as it settles, beginning to rapidly grow equally unnerving as the former sight had been.

Wes tries to find a thought soothing to him. But with all that has happened all he can think is Warblers, Kurt, Blaine…

Wes lips part slightly, and if he was alone right now, he would be singing already.

Joining the Warblers, it had been the attempt, successful, to make a new home for himself, away from a home that had not felt to be the same loving place...ever again...since Tyler had taken his own life.

Tyler had not been one to sing, and Wes, knew he had to be his own person…, knew Tyler had always wished for him to be just that, nothing but himself - something Tyler trying, and trying hard, had never completely been able to feel like, Wes had only understood much later.

Their parents don't talk about him, not to Wes at least, so all Wes has are his own memories and a doctor's diagnosis.

Having been ten when Tyler's second suicide attempt had been a successful one, Wes still some days grows reluctant to trust what he thinks he knows.

Blaine had helped him, with feeling surer of his own thoughts, by explaining to him about some of the fears and pain, Wes himself only knows second hand. Blaine keeps telling him that is a good thing, and that Wes has all he needs to have and show...empathy.

It had taken a lot for Wes and Blaine to come to the point where they could talk this openly.

Ty, Wes thinks, unable to bring his endearment for his older brother over his lips, slowly turning into a soft, saddened smile, eyes squeezed shut tighter for a moment as Wes reminds himself that it is a good thing that over the years he finds himself smiling at the thought of Tyler rather than crying for hours.

Ty had been Wes's nickname for his brother ever since…ever since I can remember, and long before Wes had been capable of understanding why…why Ty had always loved it so very much, hearing me calling him Ty.

Hair longer than Wes's has ever been, jeans ripped more often than not, in a way Kurt would call fashion of the eighties - but really in Ty's case because he could not bring himself to stop wearing his favorite jeans even after he had literally worn them out - shirts plain with a small detail that would make them look unique, that is how Wes remembers his older brother, always standing strong and tall…to the outside world.

Even after the first attempt on his own life, Tyler had had everyone even the psychologist convinced and fast, that he was all better now, with the pills. Pills he stopped taking, and then had used to…. Of course Wes does not remember any of this first hand, learned about it years later only when he had searched for and found two of the five close friends Tyler had written about in his journals.

Journals and letters is all Wes has left of his brother. He had found them one summer, in a box, stowed away in the attic, when he had been looking for some old novels his mother had told him she kept up there.

Charles Dickens, Wes remembers sitting here now, I…'A Christmas Carol', I spent that whole summer reading it over and over, listening to Christmas songs. That and Tyler's journals...and letters.

Wes had spent the summer nights that year, age thirteen, having dreams, about the Ghost of Christmas Past, coming to take him see Tyler. Wes still feels grateful and indebted to Charles Dickens, to this day, for saving him from nightmares…nightmares Wes still had had to endure, years later, after a day of having talked some of his brother's writing through with Blaine…feeling like…then, with Blaine, I understood so much of it, for the first time.

Tyler had been anything but conformist, always insisting to try to be himself as much as anyhow possible, ...maybe that is why he had never wanted to let go of his favorite clothes, not just the jeans, shirts too, that old worn leather jacket baught two sizes too big to make it last longer, beyond growth spurts. It is the only piece of clothing Wes has left of his brother's. It too had been boxed up in the attic. Wes had worn it, far too much that summer, considering the heat waves dominating days and even nights. And Wes…Wes had not been able to stop crying when he had had to put his Dalton uniform back on after that summer of finding the journals and letters, the jacket still smelling so much like his brother; the uniform and…the tie.

It too had been the summer of him turning 14, and reading what his brother had written, years ago, at his own age and slightly older, Wes had then understood, had understood so much more, especially…Ty's love for my nickname for him.

Putting on the uniform had remained a fight with tears for weeks, then, gradually the tears had grown less, and Wes had turned it around, turned it into a promise to his brother, every time he put on the Dalton blazer and tie, to one day make him proud…to learn to be and hold on to himself even in this uniform, and to live freely once he would be able to take it off...for good.

That is how Wes has always remembered Tyler, a proud older brother telling him the most fantastically imaginative bedtime stories.

Another of many things Wes had not understood until finding his brother's writing, about them, about himself and his feelings, had been why his brother had never made himself the hero of those stories. It had always been...Prince Wes, and King Wes, Wizard Wes, and all around Magical...Wes. I, a hero, Wes thinks shaking his head at himself, before he sinks back deep into thought.

The broken sob stays painfully lodged in his throat as he tries to remember and at the same time tries to somehow not feel the pain that comes with the thoughts of despair and loneliness, Wes had come face to face with, in his brother's writing...and in Blaine's words, once they had started talking.

One afternoon after Blaine had confessed to Wes to having thought about ending his own life, more than once, Wes had shared some of his brother's writing with Blaine and told him afterwards, "You are not alone. We might not be the same in every way, but Blaine, you are not alone. Tyler thought that too, because I was then too small for him to talk to, and our parents not there enough, I guess. But…I am here for you to talk to now, and as long as I possibly can be. Please,…please believe me."

Thinking back to this moment, there can be only one thought now for Wes, with everything that has happened,…I left him alone. And now Wes cannot hold them back anymore, the tears, pushing past his eyelids, closed still, staining his clothes.

I left him alone.

And if something has been done to Blaine that causes him to do something reckless, if pain like that has been stirred again, Wes will never forgive himself.

Wes had first realized about a year before he had met Blaine for the first time, reading his brother's writing over and over - neglecting his school work for months still after summer - that there really had been nothing he, as a ten year old, could have done to stop what had happened. And it had taken his encounter and friendship with a too broken Blaine to actually…stop, stop blaming myself.

No matter how much time ever passes though, Wes doubts he will ever not have problems swallowing pills. They will always stay a constant reminder of a goodbye Wes never got to say.

Having the pills at hand - Wes still is not sure where they all came from, maybe some at least from Tyler's therapy - Tyler had just had to pick the right place and time, so he would not, could not be found in time to save the life he had decided he did not want anymore.

Being a writer, a storyteller to his younger brother for years, Tyler had a well developed natural gift for timing. Not every fifteen year old would have been able to plan his suicide around the busy schedule of a cleaner, a gardener, a full set of parents, and in a way that would make it as unlikely as possible for his younger brother to have to be the one to find him, he too had learned from his first failed attempt. His mother having walked in on him, with wrists slashed open, Wes had found it all in the journals...hardly any page left now not stained with his and Tyler's tears, some mixed with Blaine's.

Tyler that day had really wanted to die.

Wes had hated the realization hitting him.

It had happened one day after talking through a whole night, with Blaine, Blaine telling him how much he hated being in pain, but even when he was, still, for the most part, wanting to be alive, refusing to give up hope for something better.

It had been a talk they had had weeks before the first summer vacation since Blaine had started boarding at Dalton – Blaine unnerved and full of dread because he would have to spend the summer with his cold, unloving mother.

He had ended up spending a lot of said summer with Wes.

That talk, too, had led to Wes for the first time fully opening up to Blaine.

"I miss him," Wes had said in a voice quiet, almost inaudible, "so much."

And so the roles had been reversed.

And with blinds quickly drawn, Wes had been the one being held all through the day.

Wes had not felt this safe, had not allowed anyone to hold him like this, to comfort him, ever since Tyler's death.

Five years is a long time not to be held close…with love.

It had been important for Blaine as well, knowing that Wes needed him just as much as he needed Wes.

Wanting and needing each other, and most of all, finding understanding with each other, finding someone in the other who understands so many things other's don't, it is what makes their friendship strong, what has them caring so much still, about each other, even now that they are so far apart.

Wes remembers Blaine telling him once, "Without you, without your, our, friendship, I'd never have known how to be there for Kurt the way he needed me to when he and I first met. I owe you so much Wes...so much of my happiness."

As close as Wes had been with David, all of their school years together, it had been a friendship based on something so entirely different than that with Blaine. Fun,...mostly.

And yes, it had been wonderful, and yes, Wes had needed it then, had needed to not dwell on the pain he has been carrying inside ever since Ty's death, yes,...still does.

Until he had met Blaine, Wes had barely allowed himself to be aware, at all, of the fact that he had needed more than distraction, that something was missing - and it was not all done and well after having gotten some answers at least, from Tyler's writing - …someone, Wes sighs sadly. And no, Blaine is not replacing Ty. Is so unlike Ty in so many ways. For one Blaine hates licorice, Ty loved that stuff, Wes thinks with a small smile now.

Ty had never pretended to be anything, had been...had been…just himself, all his life. And it had been so much.

And Wes holds on to the feeling, the hope that being a kid in this case has given him a viewpoint, and a memory much clearer than that of an adult's - corrupted with expectations the world tell us we should have of others, and others should fulfill to rank high with us.

Ty was amazing.

Ty IS amazing.

Wes has changed since he has taken of the school uniform he had sworn, years and years ago, to not let tell him who he should be, what he should be like.

In a way both Blaine and him had needed it, the uniform as a retreat, a safe cocoon, in which to figure out what they as people really are capable of, what they can be away from memories too hard to face every single day at such a young age. And maybe that is why it pains Wes so much to see his safe place corrupted by…that Smythe guy.

His family home, huge as it is, had felt like a safe place as long as Tyler had been there with him.

Wes had not understood at first where Tyler had gone, and had refused to acknowledge the fact that Tyler would never sit with him on his bedcovers again - book assigned by their parents as bedtime reading lying at the foot of the bed, while Wes had been, cuddled deep into his brother's embrace, listening, eyes wide and shining, to his brothers words forming stories. Wes's imagination drawing the most fantastically colorful pictures for him when his eyelids grew heavy and eyes slowly drifted shut, and he could not follow the lively gestures anymore that had always accompanied Ty's telling of stories.

While their parents had, all the time, just stood up in the middle of a story to take a phone call and not returned after,...Tyler had never left Wes.

He had always stayed with his little brother, and talked on even after Wes's eyes had slid shut, signaling sleep approaching fast. Wes cannot remember Tyler leaving him, not once, always talking on, holding Wes, until he had been fast asleep.

And then…one day, Tyler was just gone and Wes, only ten, was told he would never see him again. It had taken months for Wes to stop sitting there, ready on his bedcovers, waiting for Tyler to come back. Wes crying himself to sleep every night for even longer...missing feeling loved in the way Tyler had never once given him reason to doubt he did.

Singing, it had been such a perfect and easy choice for Wes to make, nothing about it had at the time reminded him of his brother, even if his own voice should have reminded him of Tyler, he would not have known. Could not. He does not have one memory of Tyler singing, not ever, which sometimes makes him sad too.

Singing, Wes had bonded quickly with Kurt over how free it makes both of them feel.

But the gap, the age, mother nature had put between Tyler and Wes had – with Tyler gone – somehow shrunk. And so one Friday, in May, one of the last weekends before the school year had been over, Wes, himself only months away from his fifteenth birthday, and some more from meeting Blaine for the first time, had discovered something.

Getting ready for a party with some friends, Wes out of his school uniform, for the first time in a long time, had found not himself staring back at him out of the mirror in his dorm room.

Buying the shirt, in a deep dark blue with a pattern of sliver lines in the downward left-hand corner, he had not realized that wearing it with some jeans, and his hair having slightly outgrown in the last months, all it would need for him to be the spitting image of the Ty he remembers would be some tears to the jeans and less product in his hair. …glasses, don't forget his glasses, Wes still remembers now thinking to himself that day.

Wes had not gone to any kind of party for the rest of that school year...had not felt like it, at all.

Thinking back to all this Wes, maybe for the first time seeing the bigger picture this clear, cannot really speak of surprise when it comes to the fact that he and Blaine had bonded at the beginning of the next year, over being somewhat on the quieter side, compared to all the other Warblers.

Wes is left smiling once more, which is such a nice break from all the worrying he has done recently, still is, thinking of how much both of them had helped each other out of their shells that first year they met.

I want more left with Blaine than memories.

All Wes has left of Ty, has taken care to take with him to college too - in case his parents decide to box up his room in the same record time they had cleared Tyler's, after what to Wes always had felt like his older brother's disappearance rather than death - are his journals and letters, the leather jacket, and…the big plush leopard.

Only weeks before he killed himself Tyler had brought it to him, the big, fluffy creature.

"…he is called Ty too," Wes still remembers Tyler telling him one night.

"Just like you," Wes recalls answering with wide, wondering eyes.

"Just like me," Tyler had answered with a smile, bright. "He has promised to me he will always protect you," Tyler had gone on to explain.

"But you protect me…," Wes had wondered out loud.

"…just in case," Tyler had replied with a soft, loving smile. "You can never have enough people, who love you as much as Ty and I do, Wes."