A/N:
Once upon a time ... (yeah that is how long this story has been up and running) someone asked me about my take on Jeff being absent when Santana gets slushied by Sebastian. If you my dear reader and asker are out there still and with me here, in this my chapter you will get your answer. Well, mine;)
My dear Eraman this is especially much for you. I have a feeling you are going to love this one especially much, tons of Wes and Warblers in here!
You know, when I started writing this I never expected it to become so much about Wes, and I certainly did not have all his backstory mapped out or anything.
Tears Stained
Chapter 18: When we go our ways
'It feels like half a miracle that they even had kept it,' Wes thinks to himself not for the first time since yesterday, 'as quick as they had been getting Ty's things out of sight.' And Wes is fairly sure he will never be able to think about anything related to his parents without thinking about Ty too. To Wes this feels like a good and a bad thing all at once, and mostly, mostly a confusing one.
He has only recently started thinking about what it might be like to be a parent himself, is wondering whether he could ever do it with all the fear in mind. Fear of being like his own parents in all the wrong ways and none of the right ones. Fear of losing a child, like all of his family has lost Ty.
Wes knows his parents are trying, still have to try after all these years, which is an inspiring, confusing and disheartening thought all at once.
Yesterday, Wes had found his room, Ty's old room – he had moved into shortly after meeting Blaine at Dalton, Blaine helping him realize some things about holding on, to love instead of constantly all that fear – literally untouched. Wes had gotten quite a few of Ty's things back down from the attic then, kept his brother close that way through all those years of high school.
Blaine is the one squeezing Wes's hand gently now, pulling him back out of his lonely thoughts.
"So, um, yeah, I … I caught a few glimpses of him yesterday, while trying to spy on The Warblers." There is a beat of silence, then Wes adds, "I needed to know what was going on there. So I put on my Dalton uniform and … ."
Wes cannot count the times he has walked down this staircase. It is the later afternoon, most students in their dorms or at home by now, only a handful of clubs still in session, somewhere on the vast grounds of the school.
One club Wes is certain he knows where to find.
The Warblers have a firmly assigned practice space, they are, not even just when they are singing, after all, one of the noisiest clubs in all of the school.
And true to Wes's memory, even before he has completely rounded the last corner into the hallway that leads to the Warblers' territory he can hear voices … only they are not joining each other in well practiced, or not yet so well practiced harmonies.
"You cannot be SERIOUS!"
He knows this voice, knows it well, though he has never quite heard it like this; this angry. Jeff does not get angry, he gets upset. Like that night he had called Wes about what had happened. Wes had heard him close to tears. This is nothing like that.
Wes does not round the corner fully, only carefully glances around it. He finds a whole, maybe the whole group of current Warblers in his line of sight. Most are gazing worriedly, or with almost vicious looking smirks on their faces out of the room to the boys standing at its entrance.
To Wes it looks like it must have been Trent, standing closest to the other boy, who first confronted the tall, slender Warbler with the widest grin on his face – asked him out into the hall, probably, to talk this through. 'Whatever this is.'
Wes spots Thad and 'David!' among the crowd of onlookers, while Nick, Jeff and Trent are facing who just must be 'Sebastian Smythe!'
"Oh, I am," Smythe replies.
"Well, count me out, I won't stand by or help you assault anyone else, New Direction or not" Jeff, still very much angered replies.
"Fine," Smythe smirks, "leave then," he stands there with his arms crossed, but whole body at disturbing ease, daring Jeff to take that step, any step away.
"You are very much late suggesting that," Trent says.
"Yeah," Nick confirms.
Smythe just keeps standing there, looking down at them.
Nick is the one to go on, "While you slushied Santana this morning, Jeff went to the headmaster." Nick and Trent had hung behind and followed Smythe around to try and prevent more harm being done. If you would ask Santana, she would say that that plan was neither well thought through, nor clever, and most of all, obviously, had not worked, just ask her suit about it – which Brittany had done, and afterwards informed Santana, "It's not happy. But I will ask Lord Tubbington which dry cleaner he uses for his suits." Then she had added whispering secretively, "You should see some of his Halloween costumes, they MUST be a nightmare to clean Last year he went as Nemo."
For the first time Wes sees Smythe's smirk falter, just for a brief moment, but still. 'He is not untouchable, and he knows,' Wes feels sure then.
"Oh?" Smythe replies as cold as he can, voice steady.
"We got permission to start a new club," Trent clarifies.
"What does that have to do with anything?" Smythe asks, smirk back in full force.
He had obviously been suspecting the visit to the headmaster to be about something else, him '… because how could anything not be,' Wes thinks rolling his eyes.
Jeff then turns away from Smythe and to the rest of the choir, "We already have a room assigned. Everyone who wants to join Dalton's new show choir The Storm Petrels is welcome."
"Our first meeting is next Monday at four thirty," Nick adds.
Wes feels a strange sense of pride flutter inside his chest, watching his friends trying their best to reduce the support, in part surely blind, that Smythe has within The Warblers even if it means having to leave the group themselves, 'Guys!'
"And we will put up the first sign-up sheets over the weekend," Trent says.
And then Trent, Jeff and Nick turn and leave.
Wes quickly pulls himself completely back around the corner as he watches the boys hurry by, already back deep in what sounds like animated and outraged conversation.
What breaks Wes's heart most is that of the handful boys that step forward from the crowd and follow the three friends instantly …, 'David' and 'Thad' are not among them.
It hurts, badly. Not because Thad and David had been on the council with Wes the previous school year, but because '… we were all friends.'
Wes fears he will never truly understand what has happened here after he left. What has become obvious to Wes though today is that 'Smythe is not alone.' There are people in the group who clearly look up to him. For whatever twisted reason. Eagerly follow his every move.
After a moment more, and another glance around the corner, at an now angry faced Smythe turning and disappearing into the room with the remaining Warblers, only catching another glance of the turned backs of Thad and David, Wes retraces his own steps.
Having climbed the staircase though, he hesitates, 'Left, or right?'
On the left are the dorms.
Heavy-heartedly he takes a right, making his way back to the main entrance, the parking lot, the rental car.
As he closes the car door behind himself he breaths out heavily with muted sounds what has been thrumming in his head ever since he had chosen that right over the left, "I need to see Blaine first."
Turning the key in the ignition there is still something tugging at his heart-strings for him to get back out of the car, walk back into his old school and just pull his old friends into a hug that will make nothing all okay, but hopefully a lot of it better.
"… and then I came here, and because you two were asleep already I went and talked to Santana. And she filled me in on what she could. So I know you have plans for today, Kurt."
"You do?" It is the first Blaine hears of it, having been practically unconscious or mind constantly heavy with sleep most of the time since, well, actually since the whole slushy incident first went down.
"Yes, I do," Kurt answers, "though I don't know if it will still work now that Jeff and the others have left The Warblers."
"I'm sure if you ask them to come to the auditorium as well they will. They were really angry yesterday, sure, but I think they are more sad about all of it still, and sorry, really sorry it got this far at all, that you got hurt at all Blaine. I think they would not ever say no to giving fixing it all and returning to the Warblers a try," Wes reassures Kurt.
"Okay," Kurt looks at Wes with a small smile.
"Can either of you tell me now," Blaine says through a sudden yawn, "what the plan is?" Another yawn.
"Love," Kurt turns his head to press a kiss to Blaine's curls, "of course. But then you take another nap. You need tons of sleep to recover as best as you can. Deal?"
"Deal," Blaine mumbles, scooting already a little lower along the line of Kurt's shoulder.
"Wanne lie down?" Kurt asks, as he sees Blaine's eyes drift shut.
"Mmh," Blaine hums.
So in a short while Blaine's head ends up resting on Kurt's upper thigh, the boy stretched out on the bed on his back, as he listens to Wes and Kurt telling him about the plans made so far, listens to them making further plans too, one hand of Blaine's still holding Wes's, joined fingers a warm weight resting beside Blaine's head, Blaine able to reassure himself '… you're right here,' with one simple squeeze.
The last thing Blaine hears before he drifts back into a sleep, full of the promise of rest deeper than any the last days, is Wes's voice, "I'm so glad I am here," and Kurt's answer, "We missed you terribly."
And Wes thinks he feels Blaine's hand tightening on his for a moment in response to Kurt's words.
As he looks down next, from Kurt to Blaine, Blaine's mouth is slightly parted, breathing even.
'So glad I'm here.'