.
.
CHAPTER THREE
.
(day 5)
Passengers gathered en masse at the gate as a voice over the intercom called out the 7am flight to Los Angeles.
The airport buzzes loud and crowded despite the early hour, though he hasn't had sufficient experience with flying to fully opine anything about the comings and goings of airport travellers. This would be his first time on a plane. His dad preferred the three-hour scenic drive to his grandparents to the hassle of airport security, and he finally understood why — he got here two hours ago and all he'd done was wait in line.
Thankfully, boarding had started.
He lingers behind, not only to say goodbye to Sam and Tina, but to take a few deep breaths before stepping on the plane. His friends insisted on driving him to the airport; his parents couldn't get out of work on such short notice, so they'd said goodbye to him last night, after he promised his mom he'd Skype the moment he arrived at Cooper and Charlie's.
Things had developed rapidly.
Within a day of the press showing up on his lawn he received a call from Sebastian's publicist, a certain Hunter Clarington, who demanded he sent a picture of his soulmark for visual confirmation. After the tone Hunter addressed him with, most easily described as disinterested, he'd been more than a little hesitant to give the man what he asked for; he wasn't livestock being vetted for auction, he'd hoped this could've been handled discreetly and now so many people were involved already. His mom hushed his apprehension and convinced him to give Hunter what he wanted, but it didn't sit right with him. He hadn't done anything wrong. Hunter had no reason to treat him like a conman out to make a quick buck.
Sebastian's name appeared on his wrist no five days ago and he felt mangled like silly putty in the hands of a small toddler, unrecognizable and indistinct — meeting Sebastian would've entailed a whole process whether the press caught on or not, but he never imagined he'd be jumping through hoops like a circus monkey.
When Hunter showed up on his doorstep the next day he knew it would be a good long while before his life felt normal again.
A good few inches taller than him, Hunter struck him as a consummate professional; brown eyes, great smile, dressed to the nines in an expensive shirt and dress pants. Hunter lamented the hundreds of false confessions he got from Sebastian's fans every week, and he pitied the part of his job that involved travelling around the country –or the world– whenever a picture didn't provide conclusive evidence of a hoax.
His soulmark, however, —Hunter concluded with great relief—, that was the real deal.
"Congratulations, Mr Anderson," Hunter declared upon closer inspection of his tattoo. "Seems like you're the genuine article."
Hunter grinned. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting for you."
He'd frowned at that, because surely Sebastian had been the one waiting all this time, not his publicist, and he couldn't figure out why Hunter would be the one to feel relief.
About an hour after Hunter's departure he got a call from Sebastian's manager, a beautiful Latina by the name of Santana Lopez. He'd caught her on television many times, stood behind Sebastian at his red carpet events. She could've easily been one of the stars herself, with her long black hair that reached halfway her back, a figure that could fill out those tight tube dresses as if she was the reason they'd been invented in the first place, and a smile to die for.
She made him an offer he could scarcely believe; Sebastian would pay to fly him to Los Angeles as soon as possible, and offer a place to stay if needed. He'd stood dumbfounded and stuttering, unable to believe his ears, until his mother took hold of the phone and informed Santana that Blaine could stay with his older brother.
And so he ended up here, at Columbus National Airport, about to say goodbye to his two best friends and board a plane that would take him to his soulmate. The past few days had passed in a surreal blur of getting his suitcases in order, talking to Sam and his other friends about what happened, and mentally preparing for the trip.
"Wish me luck," he says.
High-strung tension had knotted between his shoulders overnight, one filled with restless tossing and turning and the return of an old nightmare; he woke up the morning of his eighteenth birthday without a name on his wrist, his parents threw him out of the house, and Cooper wouldn't take him in, and no matter which friend he turned to, they all shunned him. He'd woken up sweaty and exhausted, a weariness in his bones a hot shower failed to remedy.
His friends had been the most welcome distraction this morning; Tina made a mixtape for the hour-long drive, filled with all their favorite tracks and some golden oldies, and they'd sung along to each track at the top of their lungs.
Sam slaps a hand down on his shoulder. "Be careful, okay, dude?"
"What do you mean?"
Sam tracks a step towards him, close enough so his voice can drop to a whisper, "Guard your carnal treasure."
"What?" He rears back and searches Sam's eyes. "Why would you say that?"
"I'm just saying," Sam says. "This is Sebastian Smythe. Don't give it up first chance you get."
"It won't be like that."
The thought alone added to his worries. It's no secret between the three of them that he and Tina were still virgins; Tina and Mike were waiting for the right time in their relationship to make such an important decision, and no one had ever piqued his interest in that way. He may have had a fantasy or two about Sam when he woke up in the morning and slipped his hand underneath the covers, but there had never been any boys that interested him in that way. Waiting for his soulmate seemed as romantic a notion as any. Once he found his soulmate, he'd never want anyone else, so the thought of sharing such an intimate act with only one person made the wait more than worth it.
"Alright." Sam pulls him into a hug. "Just–"
"I'll protect my carnal treasure," he mumbles, if only to get Sam off this topic, but the thoughts interlink with all the other ones swimming through his head. So what if Sebastian had a reputation; he doesn't expect Sebastian to be a virgin, that wasn't a prerequisite in any relationship as far as he could tell, so why should it be in theirs? Sebastian's experience didn't mean he'd expect them to sleep together the moment the opportunity presented itself. Did he need to worry about this? Should he have packed condoms and lube, have a medical bill of health proclaiming he's STI free?
Tina throws her arms around him, a momentary distraction from a train of thought that will drive him crazy before long.
"Remember everything. How he smells, but not just vaguely. I want good solid similes."
He smiles. "I will bring you similes."
Any anger he'd felt towards Tina a few days ago had dissipated.
At first he'd been furious; Tina was the only one who knew the truth besides his parents, so there was no one else who could've alerted the press. She must've guessed how he felt because that same night she mauled her way through the army of reporters, verbally abusing more than one of them, and found him in his bedroom, hands in his hair.
"Tina, what did you do?" he asked, tears in his eyes, on the brink of a full-blown panic attack.
Tina rushed over to the bed and sank down next to him. "I didn't do this, I swear. Sugar guessed."
"She guessed? Sugar Motta guessed that Sebastian's my soulmate?"
"She came over to see you, but you'd already left," Tina said, running a soothing hand down his back. "And I kept my promise. I didn't say a word about Sebastian. She kept asking me all these question, is it someone we know, is it a stranger, and I guess my face sort of–"
He jumped up. "–answered instead of your mouth?"
"The words 'Sebastian Smythe' didn't leave my lips." Tina shook her head, close to tears herself. "I didn't even nod or shake my head."
He swallowed hard, his knees weak, haunted by the thought that Sugar Motta could potentially be psychic. Known equally for her unbridled enthusiasm as well as her lack of any form of filter, he wouldn't put it past Sugar to have contact numbers for tabloids programmed into her phone. Sugar being Sugar, he understood why she saw contacting the press as the next logical step for him; it might've even been his own decision if he'd had time to think about it, but the rug got pulled from underneath his feet. His world turned upside down, and he didn't know how to tilt it right side up again.
"Bling, I would never betray you like this."
Tina looked small on his medium-sized bed.
"Why would I call the press? Please, Blaine, you have to believe me."
"I do. It's just–" He sighed, and plunked back down on the bed, limbs heavy, heartbeat in overdrive. "This is not how I imagined it would be."
Tina rested her head on his shoulder. "Wait until you meet him. Everything will fall into place."
Everything will fall into place.
It's the one thought that kept him going, that got him through the past four nights, through all the phone calls from his friends and neighbors and distant relatives. Surprisingly, Cooper had been his strongest anchor, simply by saying, "Don't worry, kiddo, if I figured it out then you sure as hell can."
And maybe he shouldn't think of himself as the more grounded Anderson brother, but that reassurance had been a lifeline as much as Tina's support. If Cooper the Cynic figured out the whole soulmate thing, then so could Blaine the Romantic.
The sudden realness of it all shocked him more than anything else. His impatience notwithstanding, he'd been prepared to wait a while, slowly piece together his soulmate like a jigsaw puzzle — first the outer edges, maybe find a photo or a Facebook profile, track down his own name for proof in one of the thousands of databases out there. Only then would he start on the inner area, group together colors and shapes, fill the contours piece by piece by talking from a distance if necessary, exchange emails and texts and snapchats until it all came together in a complete picture. That's how most people did it.
Why couldn't it be like that for him?
It's almost like he's on an episode of Blind Date, waiting for the wall to pull back to find someone he already knew on the other side.
Then again, he didn't know Sebastian at all, did he?
He knows the fantasy, the public image Sebastian set up in agreement with his agency and his publicist. Which would almost make it a blind date if not for the fact that he has preconceived ideas about Sebastian, about his personality, the sensitive bad boy, the player turned domestic once he found his soulmate. He liked the fantasy; Sebastian unreachable and the chance of ever meeting him next to nothing. Now he'll have to accept that some of that fantasy will get tainted. He might need to revise his opinion.
Sebastian is still an unsolved puzzle to him. These past few years he'd merely colored in an image without truly seeing the lines — the Sebastian in his mind could be an entirely different one than the one he'll meet tomorrow. Would that be better? He'd hoped for a grace period, at the very least, some time to prepare, to breathe, before coming face to face with his soulmate... who also happens to be his celebrity crush.
He draws in another deep breath as the plane hits the tarmac in Los Angeles, his lungs constricted around a certain sense of doom. All things considered, maybe pulling off the band-aid in one fell swoop would be the best thing for him. If he keeps up his worrying he'll keel over from oxygen deprivation before laying eyes on Sebastian.
At least Cooper and Charlie would be happy to see him. They'd been begging him to visit for years, but other obligations usually kept him home, like the summer jobs at Six Flags, camping trips with Sam. Quick excuses.
Much as he loved Cooper, their age difference had always encouraged sibling rivalry. Cooper criticized him at every turn, the annoying kid brother Cooper had to babysit or take to the movies when their parents were too busy. It didn't helped that they had similar interests, song and dance and musical theatre, and they both had talent to spare. His mom used to say his brother simply had a funny way of showing his jealousy, but that never made it easier for him; she'd say 'be the bigger man', but Cooper had made him feel like a boy his entire life, and time wouldn't change that — he'd always be the kid brother.
His brother's move to LA and the subsequent distance put less strain on their relationship; no longer living under the same roof meant they talked about what went on in their lives rather than find ways to taunt each other, and a lot of the negativity seeped from out of their conversations. Charlie, too, made it possible for him to talk to Cooper about real things, like relationships, college, and friends.
Still, two weeks in close quarters with Cooper was asking for trouble, even under the guise of a vacation.
Now he had little choice in the matter, and he didn't like the thought of sitting alone in some hotel room with more time to worry and stress and work himself into a frenzy. Cooper would be a perfect distraction.
He retrieves his luggage at baggage reclaim and proceeds outside, where he searches the crowd for any sight of his brother.
"Squirt!" Cooper's voice echoes through the entire hall.
He cringes at the decade old nickname.
"Over here!"
He turns and narrowly misses Charlie elbowing Cooper in his side, his eyes drawn down to Charlie's other hand, which rests on her protruding belly.
He rushes over, the sudden overload of information propelling him towards his sister-in-law.
"Charlie, oh my God, you're–"
"We're pregnant!" Charlie cheers, and pulls him into a hug, one of those big tight ones that are warm and take his breath away, and he wished he could have at his beck and call whenever he felt sad.
Cooper slaps at his shoulder. "You're going to be an uncle, kiddo."
He congratulates Cooper and Charlie the entire walk to the car, and on the ride home Charlie gushes about their plans to transform the guest room into a nursery. Ideally they'd get a bigger place, but for now they'd make due with what they had.
In all the years he's known her he's never seen Charlie this excited. Pregnancy clearly suited her, whereas picturing Cooper as a dad was as scary a thought as leaving small children in Sugar's care. He still remembers all the times Cooper was meant to be babysitting him but happily left him to his own devices, or forgot to pick him up on time.
But then, as they pull up to the bungalow and Cooper helps Charlie out of the car, he's reminded of those secret touches he often caught Cooper exchanging with Charlie, running his fingers down Charlie's spine or down her arm, Charlie's fingers carding through Cooper's hair until his brother smiled — there's more to either of them than meets the eye, and when they're together that's strengthened.
He can only imagine what secretly coded touches he and Sebastian will work out in the years to come.
Charlie makes dinner while Cooper helps him set up in the guest room, a small room with a single bed, a bedside table, a closet and a small desk, and a wonderful view of the ocean.
They moved here close to eight years ago and made a lot of changes to the place over the years, mainly adding the poolside cabana. The small cottage had a spacious living room due to the light colors and an adjoining dining area. In the kitchen French doors opened up into a small garden made up entirely of a pool. If Cooper and Charlie wanted to raise a baby here, they would do well to childproof a whole lot of their doors before his niece or nephew learned how to crawl.
"Pretty crazy, right?" Cooper says out of nowhere, settling down on the bed. "A baby."
The lack of any further prompting tells him his brother needs to talk; Cooper loves the sound of his own voice too much to let the room fill with silence.
Cooper's hands wring together, and he avoids eye contact.
He's never seen Cooper like this, on edge, fidgety, not even before big auditions.
"Aren't you excited?"
Cooper takes a deep breath and thinks his answer through, which tells him enough about his brother's state of mind — Cooper's not the kind to second guess himself, not in his career or his personal life, so he wonders if this baby was planned.
Before Cooper can respond Charlie calls them from the kitchen.
Cooper jumps up and puts on a big smile, a dishearteningly good disguise for the stranger who'd sat down next to him not half a minute ago.
The pretence continues through dinner, where he's pestered with questions about Sebastian and their plans tomorrow, and whether or not he's nervous. He barely manages to get in three bites before his throat closes up and that all too familiar panic sets in again.
Sebastian would pick him up for lunch tomorrow, hopefully far from the prying eyes of the press, though Santana assured him that they'd been informed of the situation and she wouldn't hesitate to sue their asses should they overstep their bounds. He admired Santana's choice of words, but press or no press, stress had sunk into his skin like a poison, coursed through his veins and made his blood run thick like syrup, everything moving slower yet faster at the same time.
Later that night Charlie finds him by the pool — Cooper's watching Catfish on MTV and he's not worth much of anything right now, so he took some alone time and dipped his feet into the water.
It's quiet out here, the sound of the ocean a calming backdrop to a tumultuous few days.
Since his birthday on Saturday he accomplished little to nothing; he'd promised Tina, Sugar and Marley he'd go shopping with them to get Marley's thoughts off her own conundrum, but with a stubborn news crew camping out on his lawn he feared leaving the house.
"Hey, sport," Charlie says, and sits down next to him. "'You okay?"
Growing up with three older brothers Charlie knew how to talk to him. She could read him as well as Sam or Tina or his mom, despite having spent a lot less time with him.
He glances down at his wrist, Sebastian's name still hardwired into his skin, unchanged.
"I'm nervous about tomorrow."
"I remember the day before I met Coop," she says, and grabs his hand to pull it into her lap. "I was meant to sleep on the train, but I couldn't stop worrying. I'd been waiting for that moment for five years and I'd fantasized about every scenario. Getting hitched to a nineteen-year old was never included."
He laughs, vividly recalling the morning of his brother's eighteenth birthday; he'd jumped up and down in an effort to catch Cooper's tattoo, but Cooper held his arm well out of his reach while he ranted to their mom about getting a new computer.
At nine years old it seemed like such a grown-up thing, receiving a soulmark a rite of passage he didn't have access to simply because he wasn't old enough yet — it was magic, like dragons and unicorns, and one day he'd know what it felt like, it wouldn't all sound like a foreign language but he'd learn the sentence structure and tenses, find out what the expressions meant and use them himself. He'd turn perfectly bilingual at the flip of a switch.
"I kept thinking what if he doesn't like me, what if I say the wrong things, are my clothes okay," Charlie says, running her thumb softly over his knuckles. "But it worked out. It'll work out for you too. It's meant to be, after all."
Now at eighteen it still felt like a grown-up thing. He wasn't an adult, he'd never lived on his own or paid his own bills, never stood on his own two feet and now he'd add another person to the mix, someone to take care of and someone to take care of him, but still — he's never had a boyfriend. What if he doesn't become bilingual? What if he's still just a speaker of a foreign language making random noises?
He leaves his hand in Charlie's lap, where it's safer than any other part of him right now. He wants to believe in what everyone says, that everything will fall into place, if I can do it you sure as hell can, it's meant to be, but he hasn't felt the magic yet.
"I didn't know you and Coop were thinking about having kids," he says, eager for another distraction.
The question would probably shut his brother down but Charlie isn't Cooper; she may act tough and professional in all the appropriate situations, but has no problem letting her guard down around the people she loves. And he's so lucky to be one of those people.
"I've always wanted kids. And we're not getting any younger."
"So you both want this."
"Don't worry." Charlie squeezes his hand. "It was a mutual decision."
He nods and lets silence take hold again, listens to the ocean and the small waves his feet make in the water of the pool, and smiles to himself once the idea really sinks in.
He's going to be an uncle. He'll get to dote on his niece or nephew, buy them cute little outfits and toys, spoil them rotten and teach them new things. Why wouldn't that excite Cooper too?
"You should get some sleep," Charlie says, and kisses his temple. "Big day tomorrow."
Hugging Charlie goodnight he heads inside, where Cooper's fallen asleep in front of the television. He puts on his PJs and reads a little before closing his eyes, but once he does sleep eludes him almost entirely.
An old nightmare plagues him all through the night, the same old one where his world falls apart because his wrist doesn't show two simple words, and a new one that has him tossing and turning the same as all the previous nights. His legs tangle in the sheets, his pillow falls to the floor, his dream self crying out when Sebastian turns him down at the first sight of him.
He wakes up barely breathing, sheets drenched in sweat — he checks his wrist out of necessity rather than habit, but it's still there, Sebastian's name, like his name would be on Sebastian's skin.
Eyes closed, he repeats the same thought like a mantra.
Everything will fall into place today, it's meant to be, no one can take that from him ever again.
Today could well be the first day of the rest of his life.
.
.