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Waiting for Forever
Year Three: Leather
"Please be here." Blaine muttered, rapping his fist on yet another nondescript door. He had been on the move for hours. Tearing from his apartment when he received mail from Santana entitled, 'Trouty mouth gone wild!' The video link was from a shaky cell phone and he'd seen enough of Sam's naked torso and his miserable face to catch the next flight out to Nashville.
Navigating the foreign city had been torture and by sheer chance he reached Sam's apartment only to be informed that Sam had moved out two days ago. Without an ounce of concern, Emery had given him a disinterested stare, scribbled an address on paper and slammed the door in his face. The neighborhood he stood in was run down and his unease grew exponentially when the cab driver ripped the bill out of his hand and burnt rubber on his way out.
"Be here." Blaine's knuckles met air, as the door was yanked open. He was immediately assaulted by the distinct stench of pot and- he wrinkled his nose – paint? A shirtless green streaked man blocked his way, a dripping paintbrush and lit joint clutched in one hand.
"I'm looking for Sam Evans." He coughed, the smoky haze created an actual physical barrier.
"You the boyfriend?"
"Uh?"Blaine considered the question. Was he the boyfriend? He did refer to Sam as his boyfriend in his head, which was kind of pathetic really.
"Dude?" The longhaired man swayed unsteadily still staring at him expectantly with a raised brow.
"Yes." He answered. "I am the boyfriend."
"Cool. Sam's through there." He waved at an open door. Eyes watering, Blaine cautiously edged through the entryway keeping a cautious eye on the battered grey door that hang on its hinges. Jagged lines raced from a huge dent in the middle as if from a heavy boot or a police issue battering ram.
Stunned, he stopped just inside the room, his eyes tracing the elaborate mural that covered the walls ceiling and was stretching onto the floor. Vibrant colors created an otherworldly universe.
Blaine might have stood there forever but for the enthusiastic barking, his only warning before he was hit with a blur of black fur. "Hey boy!" He greeted Dalton squatting to hug the midsize Terrier mix. The cool wet nose rubbed against his neck, pink tongue lolling and Blaine patted the furry dog. "Don't worry boy. I'm going to get you out of here."
Pushing through another door, he blinked momentarily, the brilliance of light in this room a sharp contrast to the darkened hallway. Dalton raced past him jumping onto the rumpled bed covers. He circled before lying down and resting his shaggy head on his paws, brown eyes asking, 'What next?'
"What are you doing here?"
Puzzled by the hostile tone, Blaine turned round. His jaw dropped at the sight of Sam or a version of Sam who'd been buffed, plucked, hair professionally styled and dyed. The only word that could fully describe him was shiny.
"Your uh roommate let me in"
"Levi. We bar tend together. He's a tortured artist/tagger."
Unable to hold back, Blaine finally exploded. "Oh god! What have they done to you?"
Patting the immoveable white blond coif, Sam mumbled embarrassed. "It's all lopsided and it won't go down."
He would have laughed but for Sam's glare that turned into a fierce scowl when a snicker escaped.
"You're such an ass." He snapped.
Blaine couldn't take it personally especially since Sam was suddenly clinging to him harder than a child to a favored toy. Holding him tight, Blaine could finally breathe, his hands rubbing up and down his back. He felt different, leaner. The attention the band had been receiving lately must have pushed him over the edge making him push his body harder. How many hours had he been spending in the gym?
"Have you been eating?" He asked with as little judgment as possible. Blaine caught himself, stumbling a little when Sam abruptly let him go.
"I'm okay." Sam grumbled, dodging his eyes. He grabbed the duffel off the floor, one battered sneaker tumbling out. Snatching it up he shoved it into the depths of the olive bag, stuffing two t-shirts after it.
"I saw the video."
A subtle tic was the only indication that Sam had heard him.
"Sam, what happened?" Blaine insisted despite the forbidding countenance. "You were doing so well. Just last week you called me super excited about your manager setting you up on an a radio interview with a local station."
"It was for a college radio station, nothing special."
Nothing special? Blaine had been up on phone all night because Sam kept calling to rehash their conversation and ask what impressions he should use to wow them. "Sam?" He reached for the lone sock just before Sam did holding it hostage. "Tell me what happened."
"You didn't have to come all this way to tell me I fucked up."
"Stop using anger to deflect and talk to me." Blaine held his gaze using silence to do what words couldn't until Sam sighed exasperated.
"Walter set up a new website where the fans can make requests during the concert." He started. "They can vote for a particular song or ask us to do certain things for them. At first it was simple stuff like sing happy birthday, a kiss…It was supposed to be a way for us to stand out from all the other bands trying to get record deals but it got weird."
"That's how you ended up…"
"Under a halogen lamp in leopard print Y fronts being groped by some old dude in front if a screaming crowd of 'fans'?"
"Yeah" Blaine drew out.
"On some level I knew it was going to happen, call it my stripper Spidey sense." Sam laughed humorless at the quip, snatching a white vest out from under Dalton. "When Walter handed me those Tarzan rejects I knew it was coming, he'd been pushing us further with every show but the guys were happy. We were finally getting some attention and I didn't want to let them down."
Blaine followed the motion of his hands, the fabric losing shape as he wrung the vest through his hands, his body revealing a lot more emotion than his tone of voice.
"I thought he would stop it. Even when he called that guy up on stage I thought he would stop it." Somehow Sam's long fingers found a loose thread and he pulled at it, unraveling stitches. "No one said anything, not Nate or Jared. Emery was probably just relieved that it wasn't her."
"After the show I couldn't – think – I - Then I got home and found these comments on the website; all these perfect strangers tossing digital slushies at my face." He picked up his cell phone, white cotton escaping relieved. "It's worse than high school at least back then you knew who was out to get you."
"It can't be that bad."
Blaine caught the phone flung at him and reluctantly began to read the posts.
"Ken doll?" He asked at the beginning type.
"Yeah. Inventive huh?" Sam jeered. "They don't even see me as a person, just a douchebag made of plastic."
"Sam" He scanned the elaborate website. "Cyberbullies are cowards. Jealous, spineless cowards hiding in anonymity flinging insults at people more talented, better looking than they are. Neither of them are half the man you are."
Scrolling down Blaine searched for a good post, one to emphasize his point but even the positive entries focused on describing Sam's body in twisted pornographic details that him feel a little sick.
"After he saw that one," Sam jabbed the phone, pointing out one particularly detailed entry. "Walter said I should always play shirtless. Give the customers what they want." Sam regarded him with haunted eyes, chewing on his lower lip, at war with himself before he said. "I don't want to do this anymore. I hate everything about it, people judging me constantly… I can't do it."
"You don't have to do anything you don't want to, Sam." Blaine slipped an arm around Sam's waist giving him a quick hug. "Come home with me." He offered eagerly.
For a moment, Sam let himself be held then he pulled back. "I want to but I can't. Not yet."
"But…" Blaine floundered. "You can't be thinking of staying here?"
"I need to get as far away from this place as possible," Shadows crossed Sam's gorgeous face and he looked lost all over again. "But I can't come with you."
Taking a deep breath, Blaine tried to contain himself as disappointment pushed down heavy on his shoulders. "Why not?"
Sam's lips tightened into a thin line. "And what will I do in New York? You have school and work. I have nothing there."
"You have me." Blaine rocked back, hurt. He had been so sure Sam would want to leave with him. He had made so many plans on the flight down.
"I didn't mean it like that."
"Then what did you mean, Sam?" He asked despite the lump in his throat. "I may not have all the answers but we can figure it out together."
"Honey" Sam shook his head sadly. "You can't save me. I fucked up. Me! Not you. I trusted the wrong people and I lost everything. It was a hard lesson to learn but I know that now."
"Sammy" Blaine implored throat aching with emotion. "I am right here. Why you won't let me help you? Just this once." He bit his tongue as the other words threatened to push through. Tell him, they whispered. Tell him the road to the top is hard and you miss him. Tell him your friends are all crazy and Kurt hasn't really looked at you since you told him. Tell him sometimes you're so lonely, you think you will die. Tell him, they screamed. But he couldn't let them loose. Only one of them could break down at a time.
"I don't want to get used to being rescued," Sam begged for understanding. "It will make it easier for me to screw up. And before you know it, you'll be Batman and I will be Robin. Except instead of helping you save lives and stuff I will be like this weird househusband who gets ignored by your friends because all I can talk about is-' He gestured upset. "recipes and couponing and how much time I spend in the gym to keep you interested and all our friends can witness my truly epic failure to launch."
With those words Sam depicted a bleak future for both of them. "I don't want you to carry me forever. I don't want to become a burden."
Blaine had never felt so helpless. When you love someone you should know exactly what to do when they were hurting. He didn't know what to do. "What can I do?"
Sam flipped open one of the dusty drawers and pulled out battered hair clippers with a ragged cord. Handing it to Blaine, he pointed to his head, hair follicles still looking terrified and said, "Take it all off."
xxXxx
Jiggling the key once more, Blain disengaged the lock slipping into the open sliver. Finding the apartment softly lit he swore under his breath, dropping his bag.
Tonight of all nights he didn't need company or to be confined to his room while other couples celebrated their unions in his home. Spinning he rested his forehead on the cool wood wondering if it was too late to escape. He wasn't in the mood to dodge Santana's poisoned barbs or Marley's soft eyes. More than anyone, she brought up Sam constantly like invoking his name would help Blaine cope with the distance. Sometimes it helped, tonight it wouldn't.
Exhausted, he sank to his feet, hand lingering indecisive on the doorknob.
"Hey."
"Kurt?" Blaine looked up stunned.
"I – uh cooked." Impeccably dressed, Kurt made his way across the room in small tentative steps. "I figured you'd be too tired to make Sam a welcome home dinner so I did it for you." He gave a halfhearted flourish. "It's full on vegan on account of your – boyfriend being a picky eater." He stopped, hovering over Blaine. "Where is Sam?"
"He went home to his folks"
"Oh!" Folding his legs, Kurt sat down beside him. "I'm sorry."
"Me too!" Silence yawned, devouring the empty spaces. "You're talking to me again?"
After much throat clearing and several non-starters, Kurt said. "I have been a terrible friend."
"The worst." Blaine muttered debating whether to let him off the hook. It was hard to just brush off months of being snubbed by his closest friend. "Why did you do all this? Really?"
"Peace offering."
He could feel Kurt's glance burning the side of his face. He was too tired to manage to care.
"I thought you would wait for me. You didn't. I guess I wanted to punish you for forgetting about us. It was selfish and cruel and I'm sorry." Kurt confessed to the room. "I know you are stressed out with the play not being so well received. I have known for a while that you were – struggling. I know you need someone to talk to. Sam can't be here right now and Tina is still stuck in her love bubble."
Bloody happy couples!
"This whole star-crossed lovers thing can't be easy on either of you. You need your friends. Me. I should have been here sooner and I'm sorry."
Blaine gave a one-shouldered shrug. "I'm sorry too."
"How is he?"
"Disillusioned. Sad. Lost." Blaine released a shaky breath. "I hadn't realized how much I count on him to be Sam, bright and happy and good. I feel like if he is not himself then I can't be me." He blinked back the threat of tears. "I know he's trying to find himself. I know how much that means to him. I'm trying to be understanding and supportive. But God it sucks! It sucks that he's so far away with these people who don't get him. And I just want to shake him and tell him to come home because I can make him happy and I can keep him safe. Why won't he let me?"
"I understand him. I've been where he is." Kurt looked at him with a wealth of knowledge. "You don't see how you are, how easy it is to get lost in you and never feel completely worthy."
"I am not perfect."
"I know that now. Now that my Adam colored lenses are on."
Kurt examined Blaine's quizzical expression then sighed. "Let me explain it a different way. You and I have always known exactly what we want to do with our lives. The stage defines us. It is who we are. I can't imagine how hard it must be for Sam to be trying to figure it all out now and date you - Mr. Overachiever - at the same time. He feels inadequate and he wants nothing more than for you to be proud of him, think of him as an equal. Give him a chance to grow into the man he wants to be. Be there when he's ready."
Blaine chewed the inside of his cheek, ruminating on his words. "It's not easy."
"Nothing easy is worth having."
Closing his eyes, Blaine sighed, his head making repetitive soft thuds on the door. He was ashamed to find his faith in Sam wavering. What if Sam never found his footing? What if he never attained the dreams he was chasing? What would that mean for them?
Clothes rustled beside him and he blinked eying the outstretched palm. "Get up." Kurt ordered. "I didn't spend an hour sweating over a hot stove to create the perfect Chard, Sweet potato and Peanut stew for it to go uneaten."
"That sounds disgusting." Blaine got to his feet slowly.
"Chop chop." The drill sergeant called. "I have to catch you up on months of romance. I have the best boyfriend. Guess what Adam did…"