preyforthewlcked.

     Oh this was TOO GOOD to be true. One song blended into the next and Sebastian sat in the shadows, smirking into his glass as an hour melted by like seconds. It had been a while since a smile like that had lit up his face, but there was something undeniable about knowing when the winds were blowing in your favor. Sebastian Smythe was at the peak of a lucky streak but this really took the cake. Blaine fucking Anderson after all these years.

       This was undoubtedly a peak post-Dalton fantasy while wrapped up in the throws of an undeniable string of regret that even Sebastian couldn’t fully avoid. Years later, walking into a smokey piano bar and finding none other than Blaine himself sitting back, drinking away his sorrows after that fucking ice queen eventually tossed him to the curb for whatever new life force he could leach off of and infect with his particular strain of gay.

     They would, of course, hit it off and Sebastian could put to rest the What If’s that befell every fucking time something blew up in his face and left him thinking of another life he could have been living. It was stupid, and he knew it was fucking ridiculous, but he suspected everybody at some point in their life had that One That Got Away. His had resurfaced but it wasn’t in the form of a post-day from hell existential unwind found only at the bottom of a bottle or joint… It was in the flesh and fuck if it didn’t make him feel some sort of way.

    “Well,” Sebastian began, stepping out of the shadows with a carelessly discarded glass that went on top of the piano,  purely so he could start a slow clap, head shaking still in incredulous disbelief. The lights were slipping away and Blaine had finally backed away from his performance after an undeniably pleased round of applause.  “I’m really hoping after treating me to a performance like that you’re gonna at least let me buy you a drink or two.” 

    Sebastian’s hands stilled, though they splayed out in muted disbelief before him as his eyes ran over Blaine’s face (then once down his body) as if he hadn’t been watching intently, uninterrupted for the last hour. “God, it’s been a long time, Killer. You… look incredible.” Incredible sounded an awful lot like ‘fucking out of this world’, laden with a slow burn passion that would have easily had Blaine spread out underneath him fulfilling that High School Fantasy if he had anything to do with it. An hour worth of stage worthy foreplay, Blaine’s voice consuming him like an intoxicating and undeniable haze that left him feeling seventeen again. 

       Up close with his full attention, he could make out what the distance had failed to fully grant him. Time had treated Blaine well and though he seemed void of something very distinctly Anderson, it was replaced with something just as enticing though. It looked like what had once been tightly wound was slowly loosened over times, finally stepping into himself or who he was meant to be. But Sebastian had lived among the Beat Down By Life brigade. While his lucky streak failed to end he was no stranger to that look. “And this?” Sebastian motioned to Blaine and the piano in disbelief, as if the words had been stolen from his mouth for a brief moment. “That just fulfilled at least three different fantasies all at once.” He teased, that signature Smythe grin coming to pull that bashful school boy back to the surface if he still existed underneath this Shadow Blaine. “But I’m willing to bet we can add to that count if you’re off the clock.” And willing to take him up on that drink offer. “What’d you say, B?”

Applause came like a wave drowning out the last few notes of his final song.  Tonight he sent the crowd away with one of their old favorites.  You could never go wrong with Billy Joel in this town.  It pleased the locals and tourists alike.  Those regulars that came in week after week to unwind and enjoy their neers off the beaten path of touristy, overpriced bars always hummed along.  Even sang if they were buzzed enough.  Proof to Blaine that he was doing something right every time he sang about their beloved city being a state of mind.  Deflating shoulders signaled he was done, a huff of a smile aimed at long fingers resting against ivory was the rev up for the one he gave towards the crowd.  

An appreciated wave and a thank you mouthed over the sound of their hands clapping together gave his gratitude for their enjoyment.  After all.  They were his company for the night.  And they paid the bills since he tapered off using the money he had in the bank from back home.  His tip jar was full, a drink was waiting for him at the bar, and Joe would have something to munch on ready in a few minutes.  Lickity-split.  Jusss wait-a minute, Blainey.  Comin’ riiight up!  Followed by a roll blue of weathered eyes still sparkling with happiness as the old man gave him gruff about eating too much rabbit food and not enough “real stuff”.  Out of love, right?  Always.

All things considered?  Not a bad way to end his night.  Even if it was exactly the same as last night and the night before that.  Predictability had it’s bonuses in spite of it’s potential for boredom.  Considering his past and what brought him here?  Bored wasn’t too horrible of a thing to be.  He was just about ready to slide the cover over the keys when a voice he could never forget caught him off guard.  The heavy wood slid back to it’s open position with a thud as surprised hazel darted towards the source.  First landing on the glass and then following it up an extremely long arm to a face that made his lips part and brows jut up at the sight.

No way.  Sebastian Smythe.  Here.  In a tiny piano bar in Little Italy.  So far off the path that Blaine was sure no one he knew would ever run into him here.  Part of the reason he’d landed in this part of town to begin with.  The distance between here and Broadway meant he was all but secluded from chance run-ins with…well..people.  But Sebastian wasn’t part of that plan.  Blaine had figured this was a face he’d lost track of.  Only to see in print and in distant memories of a forever ago.

Yet.  Here he was.  Blaine was stunned speechless, staring like a deer-caught-in-the-headlights trying to make his mouth and brain connect so words might happen.  “Sebastian?  Hey.  Hi.  You look–wow.”  Stammering for a beat, a flush of red after the former Warbler wasted no time reacquainting the musician with his witty banter, he continued.  “I see some things haven’t changed.”  The way he smiled was full of a nostalgia for the ghost of a feeling that crept closer with every word.  “I mean..  Yeah. Sure.  I’m off the clock.  A drink would be great..”  

Still awestruck that this was truly happening–he stood up from the piano bench barely taking his bewildered stare off Sebastian, the shorter of the pair knocked into the bench before skirting around it with a frustrated huff and motioning to the bar.  “Not that it isn’t great to see you.  It is.  But..  I don’t get it.  Here came the question that was impossible to hold in.  People like Sebastian?  Just randomly ending up here?  What were the odds?  Outside of movies, that is.  “..Why are you here?”