author's notes:
1; Initially started for Seblaine Week 2014, day 7, prompt: soulmates, with some of the concepts inspired by ~Win A Date with Tad Hamilton.
2; Title taken from Burn by Ellie Goulding.
3; Special thanks to Amaya for the artwork for this fic, my beta-reader for the first ever chapter Nikki, and, of course, Anis for her undying love and support throughout this entire experience!
warnings/tags: Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Possibly Unrequited Love, Past Relationship(s), Soul-Searching, Falling In Love, First Love, Hollywood, Teen Angst, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Feels, Slow Build, Slow Romance, Eventual Happy Ending, Romance
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(BURNING) ONE HELL OF A SOMETHING;;
prologue
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The scent of popcorn permeates the room, sugar and salt and the faint musk of sweaty bodies forced together in close quarters mixed together, all part of the small movie theatre's charm.
He sits comfortably wedged between his two best friends, Sam and Tina, the latter clutching his arm tightly while he clutched her hand. On the big screen If Only She Knew drew to an emotional close; his heart thuds hard in his throat and his eyes started watering.
"He's coming back for her," Tina whispers, resting her head on his shoulder. "I know he is."
On screen the movie's lead character, Sarah, gets out of her last class of the day and walks down the hallway, a small pile of books hugged close to her chest, her gaze a million miles away, melancholy and sad. He admired how much emotion Quinn Fabray, the actress, managed to convey with nothing but a look.
Sarah exits the building, but halts in her tracks, staring at a fixed point off screen.
The audience sits patiently waiting for the inevitable happy ending.
Sarah stands frozen while the next shot skips to another character's feet, the music swells, and Blaine's heart races — the camera pans up ever so slowly, along jeans-clad legs and a long lean body lounged back against a red Ford Mustang convertible. His breath hitches when the male lead's face comes into view; Sebastian Smythe, 22-year-old Hollywood actor and new star on the rise, green eyes, flawless complexion dotted with freckles, and his biggest celebrity crush to date.
"What are you doing here?" Sarah asks, a tremble in her voice.
Sebastian's character, Shaun, drawls a slow sloppy smile, one that could melt anyone's heart. "You didn't think I'd let you get away, did you?"
Sarah takes a few quick steps towards Shaun and falls into his arms. "Oh Shaun, can you ever forgive me?"
"Baby, you're my soulmate," Shaun says.
Blaine swoons, his heart grown three sizes.
Tina sighs contentedly and unconsciously traces a finger over the inside of her left wrist.
Shaun pulls Sarah close. "There's nothing to forgive."
Tina squeals and he wipes at a tear as Shaun's and Sarah's lips meet and the soundtrack swells, the camera slowly drawing back further and further.
Credits roll onto the bottom of the screen.
He releases a slow even breath, still caught up in the magic of the movie and the theatre, and a deep longing he recognizes as a silly crush, but couldn't quell if he tried. Sebastian Smythe looked good in a painfully pretty sort of way. He often stayed up late to watch livestreams of his red carpet events, all in the hopes of catching a glimpse of Sebastian, and felt this odd ache in his chest realizing Sebastian would never know him, he'd never meet him, unreachable in the same way the cookie jar used to be to a hungry five-year old who had to get his brother to steal treats for him.
Celebrity crushes were nothing new to him; he grew up harboring crushes on Luke Skywalker and later Han Solo, with the odd crush on Patrick Swayze in both Ghost and Dirty Dancing, so he understood these feelings for Sebastian all too well — there were crushes before him and there'd be plenty more after him, unless his Mr Right instantly erased any past and future fantasies about freckled and sweaty half-naked boys.
For now, though, or maybe until midnight tonight, he saw no reason not to mentally undress Sebastian Smythe to his heart's delight.
"That was beautiful," Tina hushes, her face smushed up against his shoulder. She laces their fingers together and holds his hand. "I think this was my favorite yet. It was so romantic."
"Yeah," he sighs, sinking deeper into the deceptively comfortable tip-up seat. "The story and the writing, and the acting."
Words fall short. Even as a kid he got sentimental about cinema visits — the dark and shared space captivated him every time, an individual experience made communal. He loved getting swept up in a good story with larger-than-life characters. Despite Tina's intermittent comments the experience carried him away from the real world and left him immersed in a fictional one of someone else's making.
"What'd you think, Sam?"
Sam stays silent.
Tina sits up and takes one look at Sam, nearly giving him a heart attack when she shouts, "Samuel! Evans!" for the entire theatre to hear, which makes Sam flail up in his seat, mumbling, "Hmpf, w'asgoingon?" in a single breath, before he realizes the movie has come to an end. "Oh, thank God."
"You fell asleep?" he asks, sad that Sam failed to have a good time, and more than a little perturbed that Sam still felt the need to utter his dislike. If he didn't want to see the movie, he shouldn't have come.
"I don't know why you keep dragging me to this guy's movies." Sam draws a hand up and down his face to chase away any residual sleepiness. "They're all the same."
"No, they're not!" Tina exclaims, and reaches over to pinch Sam's arm. "Sebastian's range is amazing!"
Sam scowls at Tina while rubbing over the sore spot on his arm, and looks at him, knowing full well Tina would do anything to defend her best friend's celebrity crush, whether she shared his sentiments or not.
"I don't understand what you see in the guy."
Tina giggles. "His abs."
He shakes his head lovingly, sitting up between his two friends before any more bodily harm can be done.
"Make fun all you want," he says. "I know about his reputation. But he's also an out and proud gay celebrity and he doesn't apologize for anything. I can admire that and his abs all at the same time."
Sam and Tina fall silent at that, and decide that maybe they should let him have this night; they're out celebrating his eighteenth birthday, after all.
At Breadstix they sink into their usual booth, Sandy the waitress takes their usual orders with her usual smile. Like much else in town it's familiar, which leaves pleasantly warm melancholy and nostalgia simmering in its wake, especially now that he's set to leave after the summer — he looked forward to college, but unlike Sam or Tina he never felt the overwhelming urge to leave Lima. His family lived here and so did all of his friends, and even though his older brother Cooper couldn't wait to get out, he's grateful he'll still have Tina around at college. They never planned on attending the same college, but when they both got accepted to Brown and it offered degrees in their respective dream careers, it was an opportunity they couldn't pass up.
Their drinks arrive first, and Sam raises his glass to toast. "Happy birthday, buddy."
Technically he only turned eighteen tomorrow, but due to the lack of any other interesting things to do on a Friday night in Lima, Ohio, and tomorrow's life-changing news, most seventeen-year-olds celebrated one day earlier. In the morning, five hours from now to be exact, he'd have someone's name on his wrist; not just anyone's, but his soulmate's. It's the single most important event in any teen's life and he would spend his undivided attention scouring the net for that Mister Right. If his soulmate had any computer skills to speak of, that was, but who didn't this day and age? Unless he was much older than him, or, God forbid, much younger.
Blaine sips his drink and tries to expel his panicked thoughts.
Most people got lucky, they found a soulmate who approximated them in age and socio-economic status but there were exceptions; his dad was nine years his mom's senior, while Charlie was several years older than Cooper — who's to say how old his soulmate would be?
It had to be hard to wait for your soulmate, Blaine thinks. His father spent that time getting his college degree and earning money to provide for his future family. He didn't dislike the idea of waiting, he could focus on school first and not live with the hassle of juggling that with a relationship, but patience wasn't one of his greatest virtues, and starting tomorrow that impatience would only grow.
There were horror stories too, of people whose soulmate had died, whose soulmate moved to a different state or country or continent, whose soulmate was in jail or in witness protection and changed their name, whose soulmate was never found because they lived on the streets and had no address, no social security number, no access to a computer or a phone. Steps were being taken by governments all over the world to make sure people didn't slip through the cracks, free sign-up services and the likes, but people still got lost in the system.
The stories that truly horrified him, that chilled him to the bone and had given him nightmares for as long as he can remember, were those of people who didn't get a soulmark on their eighteenth birthday. It happened, a genetic abnormality could stop it from showing, but doctors found a cure for that — but there were others, less fortunate teenagers, who never received a soulmark.
Some saw it as a sign that the person in question was never fated into existence, that he or she shouldn't exist, that they were anomalies society couldn't account for.
As a kid he used to wake up screaming, pulled from nightmares where he never got a name and his family rejected him, he ended up lost and alone in a big bad world that couldn't accept him. His mom would hold him close and tell him everything would be okay, but he only started believing that the day Cooper woke up with a name etched into his wrist. If his big brother possessed the right genes to earn himself a name, then surely so did he.
So his worries abated, any anxiety the result of days and weeks and months spent anticipating the big day, when his soulmate's name would finally be revealed and he'd be in on the secret; he'd finally understand why Tina felt the need to run her fingers over the subtle tattoo whenever she waxed romantic, which he still caught his parents doing when they missed their significant other; he'd feel the depth of certainty Cooper felt the day Charlie arrived at the train station in her platform shoes, standing a few inches taller than Cooper but quickly toeing them off so they'd be eye to eye. Cooper married Charlie eleven months into their relationship, a fumbling nineteen-year old barely capable of holding down a job, and a stunning 5"10' brunette who'd encourage him to follow her to Hollywood where all their dreams could come true.
That kind of meeting left its mark on an impressionable nine-year-old, who'd stood on that same train platform clutching his mother's hand, finally learning what all the fuss had been about the past weeks in trying to get Charlie over and rearranging the house accordingly. Charlie Darling had kissed his forehead and taken his picture, complemented his bow tie and smiled at him the way only Cooper had previously, like an older sibling.
He fell in love with Charlie too, the way that little brothers fell in love with girls who offered them a hand. He'd walked back to the car holding one of Cooper's and one of Charlie's hands, all the while staring up at them, marveling at the complete lack of wariness in their eyes.
He wants what Cooper and Charlie have, uncomplicated and natural; their lives fell in line the day they met, their hopes for the future similar and leading them to the same city, and even though Charlie had so far been more successful than Cooper, it was coming up on their ten year anniversary, and they were still as happy as any two people could be together. Charlie softened parts of his brother others might call vain or self-involved, while Cooper brought out a sweetness Charlie kept buried under her business woman exterior. He'd caught the two of them out on the porch swing on more than one occasion when they visited for the holidays, Charlie's legs in Cooper's lap, nibbling at his ear, Cooper whispering sweet nothings until he had Charlie shaking with laughter.
That's what he wanted, trust and intimacy paired with the love that came from being fated to another person. If Cooper the Cynic could find something like that, surely Blaine the Romantic's experience would be comparable.
"Did you really mean what you said earlier?"
He glances up from one of Tina's old Cosmos, his answer stuck around the pieces of popcorn he popped into his mouth. Sam dropped them off at Tina's because he had an early shift at the Piggly Wiggly, but he'd sleep over because he wanted to share his excitement with Tina rather than his parents. He loves his parents more than anything, but they'd researched Charlie right alongside Cooper when he got his name and barely gave him an inch of space to breathe. Tina would be all over him in the morning, but at least he'd avoid any potentially embarrassing situations.
"About Sebastian," Tina adds, joining him on the bed once she changed into her PJs.
He shrugs, swallowing before he says, "I like to think some of his reputation is exaggerated," and lies down on his stomach.
Magazine thrown aside he tries not to think about it too much. He likes the idea of Sebastian as set up in his fantasies, a playboy with a soft side that showed after careful prying, a boy with his own soulmate right around the corner that would set him straight, who would make him see the value in loving one person for the rest of his life.
The tabloids could say what they wanted, that's the picture of Sebastian he has and they couldn't touch it.
"Cooper told me that over 50% of things you read in the tabloids is wrong, anyway."
Tina nods at that and returns her attention to the laptop perched between them at the end of the bed, playing one of their favorite Sebastian movies, The Wild West. The title could've used a little more finesse, but he never complained when Sebastian's green eyes peeked from under a genuine Stetson cowboy hat, accompanied by that cheeky grin he swears gets more perfect every time he sees it.
"He's so dreamy." Tina sighs, her chin resting in the palms of her hands, legs crossed at the ankles lifting off the bed every few seconds.
He scratches at his wrist, unsure whether or not he imagines the slight itch right below the surface of his skin. His nails left behind distinct red marks and there's no name yet, but it's there, waiting to reveal itself, unlocking in the specific strand of DNA that carried the soulmark sequence, and he's ready. He's so incredibly ready to find out who his soulmate is.
Tina closes a hand over his wrist. "Are you nervous?"
"Yeah," he breathes, heart beating a special rhythm of healthy nerves. "I'm going to know my soulmate's name tomorrow. That's–"
He rolls onto his back. "I've been waiting for this a long time."
"What if it's Sam?"
"It won't be." He laughs. "I'm way past my crush on Sam."
A few years ago, in a tailspin of teenage hormones and his first foray in underage drinking he might've realized Sam had an amazing mouth and full lips he wouldn't mind moving against his own, feel his tongue caress a wet path over his lips while the tips of his fingers mapped out Sam's abs. He'd scarcely avoided Sam noticing his pants tenting in an angle that left little to the imagination, and rushed home with the single deepest sense of shame.
He did think about it, what it would be like to have a boyfriend. Soulmate or not there were people who tried to figure it out before any name appeared on their wrist, and more than a few of his friends had experience with relationships.
But he couldn't stand the pain of giving his heart to a boy only to learn he wasn't his soulmate.
That's why a crush on Sam was a safe bet. He won't mourn his once-crush on Sam when the blond received his soulmark, he'll be happy for him and support him every step of the way.
Tina smiles knowingly and settles on the bed next to him, staring up at the ceiling.
"You know what this means, right?" she asks. "I can finally talk to you about Mike and you'll know. You'll know like everyone else does. I'm so sick of listening to Rachel going on about Jesse St. James and how she's headed to New York to be with him."
He turns his head. "Isn't that how you talk about Mike?"
"Yeah, but Rachel isn't my best friend."
He considered Tina his best friend for many reasons. They shared a lot of the same interests and had similar tastes in movies, books, even clothing; he and Sam shared a love of video games and action movies, but every once in a while he needed to be able to talk about fashion or the theatre, or, as it turns out, Sebastian Smythe.
They met in seventh grade, paired together by Miss Edwards, who taught chemistry at such a slow and boring pace he and Tina learned all about each other in the span of the forty-five minutes that followed their initial meeting — they'd been inseparable ever since. The Cohen-Changs had him over for dinner and sleepovers all the time, and Tina became a fixture in the Anderson house. His mom called her the daughter she never had, which Cooper never thought was cute, but made Tina's eyes shine.
Tina got lucky with her soulmate. Mike Chang had known her name for a little over a year before Tina received her soulmark, and the two quickly connected on Facebook, posting pictures of their respective tattoos as proof. He'd marveled at the entire experience, witnessing two soulmates come together again, and even though he'd well passed the countenance of a nine-year-old he couldn't help but stare wide-eyed and open-hearted — that's what he wanted too: the initial wondrous meeting, the certainty of being exactly where he needed to be, the spark and wonder, and the undying belief that he'd never want or need anyone else, not like that.
Mike attended Brown as a freshman, where he and Tina would be headed after the summer. They'd met up a few times, when Mike found the time and the funds to make the trip, but they'd been mostly long-distance for the better part of five months. Neither of them seemed to mind, they found free time to Skype, slowly getting to know the other before becoming serious, and that fell in line with both their personalities. Mike came from a traditional Asian family, where soulmates usually met under the initial supervision of the parents on both sides — but with Mike at Brown the Changs and Cohen-Changs had decided to give them room to breathe. It'd benefited the growth of a paced and beautiful friendship.
Knowing Tina the way he does though, he knows she's in love.
"It's going to be amazing, Blaine."
Up until now he lived vicariously through Tina and Cooper and others older than him, and he won't meet his soulmate tomorrow, probably not even the day after, but he's clung to this idea for so long that he could burst with it, with glee, with happiness, with nerves, because what if, what if, what if.
He rolls onto his side. "Let's talk about something else. Anything else."
"What do you think Sebastian Smythe is doing right now?" Tina doesn't miss a beat, and he giggles, before they tumble into a wild fantasy of an underground black light rave, Sebastian's body painted in pink and green and blue dayglo, writhing on the dance floor with a dancer's grace; he'd trace his fingers down Sebastian's neck and chest, draw closer and closer until their lips brushed together and—
He buries his face in his hands and breaks out in laughter; he could never talk to Sam about stuff like this, sometimes he had to joke around about other boys, and Tina's always too happy to oblige.
They finish watching the movie over a bowl of popcorn and some rum and cokes, whisper crazy nonsense and laugh so hard Tina's parents need to ask them to keep it down; they crawl into bed with Tina's computer and watch some of their favorite So You Think You Can Dance performances, and he tries his best not to check his wrist every five seconds or so.
Finally, somehow, they both doze off.
He startles awake at seven in the morning with the odd sensation that he forgot something, like maybe he forgot to pack a clean set of boxers or left his toothbrush at home. Running his tongue over his teeth he decides it's neither of those things, but the nagging sense continues, pulses through him until eventually he's awake enough to realize—
He's eighteen years old today.
There's a soulmark on his wrist, a name that he's been carrying with him all his life and finally revealed itself.
Next to him, Tina tosses the sheets back, snores a short, "Hmpf," and finds a more comfortable position to sleep in.
Carefully, as if any too sudden movement could offer an escape to the thin lettering, he pushes the duvet back to release his arm. He sits up and rubs at his eyes with one hand, blinking away sleep before he even dares to take a look.
This is it, the moment of truth, he'll have a stranger's name on his arm that he'll research until he has some answers, but even if he can't find him yet he'll be one step closer. One step closer to his soulmate.
He swallows hard and looks down, heart beating in his ears, eyes catching on the first and last name now permanently tattooed on his wrist. A name— a name he knows.
Dread sinks into his stomach.
This can't be.
He scratches at his skin, blinks another few times, and pinches his thigh to make sure he's awake.
And no.
Oh. No.
Holy shit.
Right beneath his fingertips, in a cursive no computer model has ever managed to approximate, there's a tattoo one inch by half an inch, spelling out a name scribbled so often in the margins of his notebooks he'd recognize it by shape alone.
Sebastian Smythe.
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