It was hard not to enjoy that wabble to Blaine’s voice or the sight of him arching his back at his touch like that. It only leads to thoughts of wondering if Blaine would be arching his back during more…pleasurable situations of his touch. It was rather honestly hard to leave Blaine’s side, the feeling of those hips against his own were almost too tempting for words. In a way, Remy enjoyed that delayed reaction, however, along with the building tension between them. It was…like a dance that every little secret look and burning touch fed into. “Exactly like that…” Remy confirmed at the others little arch of his back, as he sucked on the inside of his cheek a bit.
“Your hands?” Remy gave a little thought up as he tapped the pencil to his lips again before he was placing the drawing book on the ground in front of him and standing back up. Either as an excuse to touch the boy again, or it seemed easier than explaining it. Remy was back in the same position he’d just left, as he mirrored the boy’s stance, his body slipping up against his as his own slender hand moved down Blaine’s arm to brush over the others hand before linked fingers with the shorter boy.
He silently moved the others hand to the boys own hip, placing it there before he brushed up his hand back along the boy’s arm and along with his shoulder. “Now…place the other one…in your back pocket. Shoulder against the wall…” He murmured lightly. “Maybe slide your pants down a bit at the back…just a touch..” Remy added lightly, close to the others ear. “if you’re comfortable. You know, for whatever man you’re waiting for in your head.”
Long fingers fidgeted at his sides, thumbs grazed over knuckles or their tips dug against the seams of his pockets as Blaine tried to figure out where to put them or what to occupy them with before Remy had to get up or spend too much time directing him again. He didn’t want to seem this out of his element, but that’s exactly what he was. Not once has someone wanted to draw or paint him. What’s proper etiquette for being the subject of someone’s art? How long as it going to take before Remy realized he’d asked someone so beyond amateur status that it might’ve been a big mistake picking someone who should stick to music and stage to be a model.
Blaine gave himself and Remy a wary, sheepish grin as the other stood. Thank God, he was going to show him instead of giving him instructions to follow. Though that relief came at a price. Remy was close again and Blaine could feel their bodies brush together. Back teeth clenched together. An attempt to not lose his focus on the task at hand. Easier said than done when Remy’s caress down his arm made the hairs on his arm stand on end and their fingers were laced together perfectly.
Hand on his hip and his breath hitching in his throat, the back of Blaine’s head touched against the side of Remy’s shoulder as he felt his pulse quicken. His fingernails ran over his side before he balled up his hand and shoved it in his back pocket. Blaine’s version of a shoulder against the wall looked more like a drunken man using the corner for support. Who could blame him when a swoon made his head all swimmy? “I am. I promise,” his fist pushed the back of his tight chinos, his belt and how form fitting they were not really allowing them to budge barely an inch. Lips twitched into an embarrassed half smile. “Too tight. Sorry.”
Wasn’t that kinda the problem? For the good of Kurt, yeah. It made sense. He supported it. But the rest of it? It really freaking sucked. Sam had rallied in Kurt’s corner and supported him when the rest of New Directions tapped out, even if it didn’t go according to plan, and he’d always liked him but… Blaine getting involved made it all messy. They knew each other and letting on like they were just… Two dudes who went to the same school? Putting on a front to the world? Lying was exhausting, but it didn’t compare to how exhausting it was seeing the both of them together.
“Yeah, just when no one’s looking’.” Sam shrugged, though the defeat in his tone almost counteracted how harsh his words came out. It was hurt. It felt like he was playing a spy half the time, which in retrospect should have felt a lot cooler, but it really didn’t. James Bond just had to kick a lot of ass and hook up with a lot of girl’s with unfortunately slutty names, he didn’t have to worry about the emotional terrorism that came with it. Even if Sam should have been used to that by now considering his dating history.
“You know, this really sucks.” Sam finally admitted with a huff, eyes raising back to Blaine’s as his arms crossed against his chest, his back pressed against the cool brick of McKinley. Glee Club had let out an hour ago and he’d waited until Kurt and Blaine were done doing whatever lovesick duet they’d rented out the auditorium for. You know, for extra practice. Sam wasn’t sure that wasn’t code for emotional handjobs, or at the very least empty auditorium make outs.
“When we did this ‘For the good of Kurt’,” The air quotes came as his arms uncurled from his chest, a dramatic flare that quietly highlighted how frustrated he was with the situation, “I thought it was gonna be for the better. Helping people usually makes you feel better, but this?This doesn’t feel like helpin’ people. This feels like lying and the end of cancer movies and chick flicks when the one person dies and they do that stupid slow montage of all the happy moments. But you can’t be happy. Cause they’re dead.” The point was kind of getting lost in frustration. Sam sighed, shaking his head and pushing off the wall and past Blaine, “I just don’t know what the point of letting you in anymore is when it just hurts. It doesn’t feel like us.”
Keys in hand, the former Warbler cut through the back of the school towards the street he had to park on after missing any available space since he’d started his commute late. He was on a high from performing, face flush and a pep to his step that always followed after glee club practices with Kurt. Honestly, it was what he needed. The entire situation where he couldn’t quite meet someone’s eyes during the parts of the songs Mr. Schue had them singing next to one another was about as mentally exhausting as coming face to face with the reality this move was going to be a hell of a lot harder than he originally thought. But. He was trying to put his hesitation behind him. To move past the part where he woke up and immediately reached for the crimson and navy tie still hanging from the back of the chair in his room. Then felt a hollow ache in his belly when he realized bow ties were, once again, his go to accessory.
They were trying, too. Their secret was so much easier to keep when he was at Dalton and Sam was a distant presence always in the back of his mind and a town away but not near enough to have to see and be reminded of every day. Pretending they were strangers while, basically, living like they were didn’t come with the buckets of guilt he had to swallow every. single. day. now that he was at McKinley. Thinking what it was doing to Sam, feeling what it was doing to himself? Pretty soon something had to give. Or one of them was going to snap in half.
Blaine just hadn’t realized today might be that day. Maybe it’s because he was banking on himself being the one to finally break and say or do something he’d regret two seconds after he did the thing. Sam was always so patient. So kind. And from what was starting to become painfully obvious and simultaneously grate on Blaine’s nerves, so willing to help everyone else that he didn’t realize some people were close to leaving scuff marks on his back from where they wiped their feet on their way across it. Of the two of them who would be the one to unleash an outburst? Hopefully when it was just the two of them and not in front of the whole glee club including Kurt. He would have betted it was going to be himself. Hands down. Not..
Sam waiting for him after he’d walked Kurt to his car and kissed him goodbye caught Blaine off guard. Catching him standing against the wall directly in the path it was obvious Blaine would have to take from the auditorium to get to his car could only mean one thing. He was waiting for him. For a little over an hour. Blaine came to a halt, his keys rattled as he balled them up in a fist to steady himself. Two minutes after an awkward hello and Sam not answering his question on if he waited for him (obvious answers didn’t need out loud ones), Blaine said the only thing he could think of. Turns out? Probably the wrong thing..
By the time he was done listening, Blaine could have told you exactly which white rivets of his navy boat shoes had too many scuffs, which ones looked brand new, and how many cracks were in the pavement underneath them, too. But he managed to catch hold of Sam’s wrist before he could get too far away from him with a quick reach and a stubborn refusal to let go. “I’m not dead. I’m right here. That’s what I am trying to say. We don’t have to hide this much. I’m sorry. This is messed up. I don’t know how to fix it. I just..please, Sam? Wait..?”
“Hm, I don’t like leaving questions in the air.” Remy teased softly, even if it was just likely that Remy enjoyed the idea of those dirty thoughts in Blaine’s head. He was still very much a Smythe after all, and Blaine did seem to have a certain power over them. Remy’s bright eyes danced into Blaine’s they met his and Remy gave a little appreciative hum. “Hm, to you maybe.” To him it was a chance to draw Blaine’s gorgeous body, even partly.
Remy was already flipping through the pages of his sketchbook and by the time he flicked his eyes back up to Blaine, that sweater was off. There was a little run-up and down of Blaine’s body as he soaked in that bare chest. Though it was a little hard to tell if he was checking him out or trying to memorize every line and cut of Blaine’s chest. It was properly both. “Ah.” Remy finally pulled his eyes away from the shorter boy at the question before nodding over to the little ledge that leaned against one of the few windows in the loft.
“How about you lean up against that….At…” Remy simply walked over and gripped Blaine’s hips, his breath hot on the back of the boy’s neck before he moved Blaine over towards the window, and turned his body just slightly away from where Remy was planning on sitting. “Now…when I sit down, turn your head back at me, slightly over your shoulder. Like your…waiting for your lover to come home He’s been away for a while. No one touches you like he does… “ Remy whispered into the boy’s ear. “ You know? Shirt off, the arch of your back…those dark beautiful eyes. Just…gorgous in the afternoon sun. “ Remy mused before his hands gave Blaine’s hips one last squeeze before he moved back to settle on his spot on the ground, his pencil waiting against the paper.
Chewing on the inside of his lip as he watched Remy look him over, Blaine wondered what was going on in his mind. Did he like what he saw? Was he supposed to like it in a way other than a subject? Probably not. Or. Maybe? Okay, so he was officially winging this and overthinking any part of it was probably the worst thing he could do. Because he was clueless on what they were doing might mean to an artist. Especially when that artist had the last name Smythe. Tricky family to pin down, it seems.
Like brother, like brother. Just like the power he wielded over them? The Smythes seemed to have their own abilities when it came to being able to baffle him to the point of speechlessness. And to make him feel dizzy trying to keep up with their quicksilver tongues and uncanny adeptness with tying his into knots. Goosebumps erupted over his shoulders, down them. Then spread up from his hips and small of his back to meet somewhere in the middle of his spine when Remy touched him. The prickly feeling of them continued to spread up his throat making a stark contrast against the heat of Remy’s breath on his skin.
Blaine moved where he was guided, feet unsteady by the time he stopped. Turning his head enough that he could only see a sharp jawline, he nodded his understanding and paced his deep inhale when Remy began to whisper as to not show how he’d been without air the entire time Remy was instructing him. Dizzying Smythes, indeed. At some point, his eyes closed and he swore he could feel the imaginary hands of his pretend lover waiting for him in the dark. “Okay,” his voice shook. Remy’s squeeze made Blaine’s back arch just like he wanted. “Like this?” Remy was gone and Blaine swayed up onto his tip toes before falling back to his heels as he found him sitting on the floor. “What.. What should I do with my hands..?”
Sebastian swallowed as Blaine brought him in, but leaned into the affection, his fingers curling tighter on the curve of Blaine’s thigh. Blaine’s blunt warmth and closeness, slowly drove away the cold of the thoughts he’d had before, and the fear that had gripped to his heart as he’d driven home in a rush and only by a miracle hadn’t ended up in a hospital himself. Sebastian Smythe was many things, but he was never irrational or rash, unless it came down to Blaine. When it was about Blaine Anderson, his rational brain turned into a knot, his light heart became heavy with more feelings than he’d care to admit to, and often his emotions took easy rule of him instead of his calculated thoughts. And so he breathed, and he let Blaine caress and hold and touch him, more affection and intimacy than he’d usually allow upfront, his methods of acceptance usually involving pretexts such as their naked bodies twined tight in bed after sex, or minds distracted by books and work in the balcony, a movie on the couch. He didn’t pull away or joke, now, just allowed it.
Each other’s. He knew. He did. He knew NOW, but it was still good to hear it. He still needed to be reminded that he was also Blaine’s family and Blaine needed him too. He stared at him, lips parted as he was held, green eyes glittering with wonderment as they always did whenever Blaine said those words, his pulse thundering. He looked back into Blaine’s eyes and his were open, as they were only for him. I’ve been yours from the moment we met. And wasn’t that the truth? He knew it, Blaine knew it, hell, the whole group of ex Warblers and whole of Dalton knew it. He nodded back, breathless, silent words traded between them as easily as they always had and then Blaine’s lips were on his, and Sebastian parted and shuddered into it. He gripped the sides of Blaine’s shirt tight and pulled him in until they were so close the counter was digging into his own thighs, but he didn’t care, a cold contrast to Blaine’s soft kiss.
He followed Blaine’s lead, as he always did, taking what was given to him, and as he kiss grew deeper, he moved his hand to grasp both under Blaine’s thighs just at the curve of his ass and Sebastian wished he could be one with him like that, drive deep, deep, and never come back. Instead, he pushed his tongue in, searching for that connection, as hard and warm as his lungs would allow. “Fuck dinner,” He growled, once he couldn’t kiss him any longer, ragged breath just over Blaine’s mouth. “Need you inside me.” He groaned as he gripped him tight, and then picked him up, carrying Blaine towards their bedroom and smashing their mouths again. His need far too great to be sated by a quickie over the kitchen counter.
Blaine knew Sebastian preferred other means of showering affection. Or, rather, having affection showered onto him. Because Blaine always had and always would enjoy little touches and pecks and kisses. Where Sebastian was more about bodies covered in a sheen of sweat, hums and limbs tangled together in the afterglow. Not that Blaine didn’t enjoy that form of affection either (oh he did very much), it was only that..in their current state? Reassuring his husband that he was here, safe and sound and still fully alive and in love was all Blaine wanted to make sure he did. More kisses to the crown of Sebastian’s head. A rare opportunity to be the taller one allowing him to dot several against the cool silken strands of hair underneath his lips. “I love you. I’m here. I’d never let anyone take me away from you like that. Ever. Not even a car.”
Oh, Sebastian was his. His, his, his. There wasn’t a shred of doubt in Blaine’s mind that they belonged to each other equally after years of Sebastian belonging to him far more than he allowed himself to belong to the other. Or had he? In ways, Sebastian always had parts of him no one else could have. Because no one else was allowed to see them. Thinking, just for a split nanosecond, that he might’ve lost what they had because of a stupid accident would have killed him. Poor Sebastian drove an entire commute home thinking it. Strong legs wrapped around Sebastian’s middle tighter, holding him in place against the counter he was pressed into so tightly already. They kissed like lovers reunited. Soft and sweet and full of love. Blaine didn’t hold in the soft sigh that he exhaled over Sebastian’s cheek. Nor the sound of delight muffled between their lips.
He was breathless by the time his mouth opened far enough that the tip of his tongue ran up over Sebastian’s bottom lip and teased a promise that it might slip inside to search for his. Sebastian’s grip on his rear made his senses explode in bursts of light through his thighs, stomach and behind his eyelids. God. A simple grab and he felt a throb of ache pang through his frame. The kiss ran deeper, his mouth gave way for it. Two fistfuls of hair were grabbed onto and Blaine moaned almost diving back to capture his husband’s mouth when the other split them apart. “Oh God,” was all he could groan out to Sebastian’s want. If there was ever more of a perfect sales pitch for the taller of the pair to get what he needed? Good luck finding it. Blaine let himself be carried, kissing him with his tongue and teeth nipping his bottom lip until they were in the bedroom. Without breaking anything on the way by some miracle. Without being put down, all the shorter could manage was yanking at Sebastian’s buttons and throwing his torn off tie on the ground. At least he had a bit of a throat to latch his mouth onto. And, like a man starved for the taste of skin he memorized every nuance of, he did.
The blush was amusing enough to Remy, a sight he was quickly getting used to, even if was totally getting why Sebastian was obsessed with the boy in front of him. Remy gave a little hum in agreement at those words. “True. Maybe I should just put it up in the loft somewhere, with a big arrow to explain what level people are at. You could always just ask where I’m headed though.” Remy pointed out with a slightly teasing tone as he shifted against the counter. It was easy enough to see the others reaction to being called beautiful, which was the only word that really stuck out to the artist to describe Blaine. With those dark, interesting eyes and slender body.
The pink haired boy ducked his head with a laugh at the others next words and he chose to answer the question rather than ignore it. “I do, yeah. Though that’s normally more painting from a photo I’ve taken than a live model. Sort of hard to capture that moment otherwise.” He said, giving another shrug. Why lie about his art? It was part of who he was on the whole..connection between him and a model was just as important to him as what ended up on the canvas. Remy just gave a little smile as he nodded lightly at the others words.
“If you’re sure…” Not that Remy was in a hurry to turn the chance down to see the other naked but…well, he did want Blaine comfortable.
Remy moved across the loft to pick up a sketchbook and a dark pencil. “You…wanna start?”
“Totally didn’t need an answer to that question,” he mumbled under his breath as Remy skipped the nevermind and filled his head with images of different faces all at that point and Remy with his camera there to capture it. Just to fill a canvas full of his mind and soul’s version of the sight. Without looking up, Blaine reached back with his left hand and rubbed his neck. Even threaded his fingers through the back of his hair before cupping his shoulder and lifting his chin up to meet Remy’s green eyes. “It’s just a shirt. I think I can manage.”
Even if being around a group of guys working out and yanking off your shirt of a shower or getting ready for a curtain call and rushing through costumes felt totally different than when a pair of eyes were looking at you like that. He wasn’t so mind boggled that he couldn’t cope with being shirtless and not letting that see-through-you stare make his throat close up.
Blaine followed behind him, fingers returning to the hem of his sweater. He knew the layout of the loft well enough that he could pull the heavy wool up over his head and not worry about banging into the couch he often slept on. When Sebastian let him without taking it himself and insisting Blaine use his bed.
“We can start,” he cleared his throat as the sweater fell from his hand onto the chair he walked behind and stopped long enough to toe off his shoes and nudge them underneath it. “Where should I be? I..um. I have no idea..,” he smiled over at him with a quizzitive blink.
( mssg » lip | unsent ) Crazy how an update from an old friend on what your other friends are up to really makes you think about things going on in your life. ( mssg » lip | unsent ) I’ve kept myself at arms length with so many people since coming here. ( mssg » lip | unsent ) A fresh start. A way to move on from everything that fell apart. Things I haven’t shared with you. Some that I have. I swear. I’d never do anything to jeopardize us. ( mssg » lip | unsent ) I’m not that kind of a person. I know you aren’t ever going to feel anything but friendship for me and that’s okay. More than okay. ( mssg » lip | unsent ) I just wanted to let you know.. ( mssg » lip | unsent ) I think I feel more than I should for you. It’s a dangerous ground, I know. I’m going to let it go eventually. Been there, done that. I don’t need another proverbial t-shirt. Testing one friendship that way turned out lucky that I kept it. I won’t do it again. I just wish I could tell you this.. Because I think you need to hear it. ( mssg » lip | unsent ) That you are so freaking important. You’re smart, you’re kind, you care. You deserve the world you want and someone to help give it to you. I hope you find that person. And they realize they lucked out.
( mssg » lip | sent ) Hey. Do you have any plans for this weekend? Cause I have an idea.
hunter would have kissed him again. there was a want deep inside of him, that his body was begging on acting on, but he decided against it. there were so many thoughts running around his mind, that he found it hard to focus on the BROKEN boy in front of him at that moment. hunter prided himself on listening to his head above anything else. when it came to.. romance, it wasn’t exactly his speciality and he did everything in his power to avoid it, if he were truthful. love only had negative connotations for him, and it wasn’t something he wanted to get involved in. of course, with BLAINE ANDERSON in such close proximity, his head was in a serious battle with his heart, but of course it was one that his head won.
he couldn’t believe he had been so reckless. being selfless for once, he was actually more concerned about blaine’s feelings that his own. blaine didn’t deserved to be toyed around with after everything that he had been through in the past couple of weeks. hunter wouldn’t be able to face him if he had made it WORSE in any way. hunter’s hands moved to blaine’s shoulders, where he gently pushed so there was at least a few inches between their lips now. “ i… ” however he said it, it wouldn’t come out right. he knew that, but he was trying to be as delicate as possible with blaine. “ you’re hurt. you.. you don’t want me, this. not really. i think you’re missing kurt, and i’m here, and that’s okay. really. ” he insisted. “ i don’t mind, but i just wouldn’t want you doing anything that you would later regret. ”
For the next several excruciating seconds, Blaine hinged on every breath, every twitch of Hunter’s mouth or eyes. Any change of expression. Or shift in the way Hunter looked at him. Lost, nervous hazel searched back and forth, back and forth over the Warbler’s face. His answer came in a pair of hands, that were surprisingly gentle to anyone who would have taken Hunter at surface level, resting on his shoulders. His heart leapt and he waited to be pulled in. A gesture he’d have to wait a lot longer than he thought if he wanted it to happen. Being pushed back slowly, Blaine seemed to lack the control of his spine to resist if that’s what Hunter wanted. And the spark of hope Blaine held inside with bated breath became a candle that lit up his eyes and made them shine again melted at once to its last legs, guttering and dying before going out completely.
“Sorry.” Blaine removed his hands from where they’d rested against Hunter’s knee for balance without him realizing he’d put them there. “I’m really sorry.” For someone who rarely had reasons to say that word until recently, he’d really wracked up the frequent flier miles on how often he’d uttered it in the past several months. Shooting Hunter a smile full of teeth that never truly met his eyes to stop the crease he felt forming between his eyebrows, Blaine pushed himself up via his recently freed palms against his knee and motioned towards the door with a wave of fingers that barely lifted from his side. “I think I should go. It’ll never happen again. I don’t know what I was thinking,” he blabbered. “Thank you for talking with me. I.. Goodnight, Hunter.” Getting out of the room became the only objective he would let himself think about. Pivoting on his heel, he turned to do exactly that.
“I really, REALLY want you to.” Elliott’s response was INSTANT, almost a little breathless.
He was so excited to get to see Blaine like that, the metaphorical man behind the mask for a moment more – a new level of intimacy for the two of them. Elliott could place all the times he felt like they went past a level of intimacy and got to know each other a little more; the first kiss, the first time he took off his shirt – that had been BIG for Elliott – the first FUCK, the first date…the first EVERYTHING.
“I can wait.” Elliott stepped back to give Blaine room, his arms crossing as he lent against the door frame, not being remotely subtle in the admiration of Blaine – his eyes followed him around, staring with a somewhat playful grin stuck on his face.
“Besides, I’d REALLY like to grab at your hair WITHOUT it leaving my hand feeling GROSS.” Was he purposely making it sound sexual?
TOTALLY NOT.
Elliott’s eagerness was a bit amusing to the shorter of the pair. If he wanted this so badly, he could have asked for it months ago. If he caught Blaine in a good mood and a confidence high? Blaine would have had no issue letting him take a peek at these curls he was so happy with the idea of getting to see when he was getting ready in the morning.
Seeing Elliott so delighted gave Blaine the little boost to his ego he needed to quell the nerves in his stomach at the thought of.. What if he laughs? That was habitually in the back of Blaine’s mind the first time he let his curl flag fly in front of anyone.
“Oh. Okay,” he quipped up seeing Elliott walk to the wall and lean there watching him with adoration. Blaine expression went from unsure to content, his smile real instead of forced as he walked barefoot to the shower, grabbed his shampoo and bent over the sink.
He heard Elliott’s comment just as water splashed on the back of his head. Damn near jerked up and smashed it into the faucet to. There was a new feeling. The realization that he could be embarrassed, turned on, and stunned enough that he nearly cracked his skull off metal. Weird sort of combination to feel. No doubt about that!
Within minutes, the scent of sandalwood filled the room and his hair was clean and dripping as he covered it with a towel resisting the urge to go right for his comb even though his hand dropped towards it before jerking back up. He gave Elliott a guilty, apologetic look.
The contrast between Lip Gallagher and Blaine Anderson went without saying. A notable silence contended with the patter of rain, as for the first time in ages, Lip realized how uncharacteristically quiet the house was. Everyone had their own shit these days, and while Frannie’s lungs would keep them all on their toes, lives were being lead and it wasn’t a barrel full of monkeys. Instead, Lip found himself mulling over the most simple of things. He didn’t want to be theatrical by any means, but most would look at the pair and see a very Prince and the Pauper situation. Various times, he had warned Blaine about dressing the way he did and showing his face in their neighborhood. People got jumped for less. Fuck, last year alone, one of the preps from Uni had been at a party two blocks over and they’d been stabbed after getting smart. When someone had a knife, you gave em what they wanted. Unless you knew better. Clearly prep dude hadn’t.
That of course was vastly off topic, instead he thought of a miniature Blaine in his little McMansion, with absent parents, and probably nannies out the ass because the only tie to that level of sickening wealth had been Amanda and the stories remained. While he had a stable foundation, and all the money in the world, isolation came to mind; even though the pair were very much within one another’s company. Hell, maybe he was reading too far into it. Maybe Blaine meant at night, waiting to fall asleep. Breaking from the small trance, he looked up at the other, curious. “It’s not usually like this.” Lip admitted, “You wouldn’t be able to hear yourself think before.” Carl blowing shit up, Fiona and one of her various toys fucking or fighting. Debbie arguing, or running her little daycare. Liam with Ninja Turtles or unsupervised porn on full blast, compliments of a passed out Frank. Fuck. Frank alone was meddlesome. And then there was Ian and his training, or getting caught up on the drama with Mandy and Mickey. Monica’s… Monica.
Fuck. It was undeniable how much changed. Plus he was no saint; over the years whether it be his own screaming matches, booty calls, or other dysfunction they all played their part. But now it felt empty. Wetting his lips, Lip nodded, drawing Blaine’s attention to behind the door where a poster hung, the corner of it peeling back revealing the beginnings of a MUCH bigger hole. “One of Frank’s favorite, and rare, sober activities.” Though some would have just assumed they’d put the bat through the wall in some sort of home invasion. “He’d get clean for a few days. Come back playing Dad, and start tearing the place apart. By the time he got to fixing it, he was already too fucked. Living rooms a lot worse too. And the attic.” Even so, his mind still stuck on Blaine’s original statement.
“You ever get lonely?” Even with the laundry list of problems both himself, and the rest of the Gallagher kids had to deal with, at the end of the day… They could always rely on each other… Save for a few special situations. But still, family was family and he was thankful for it. Without Fi, Frank would have undoubtedly accidentally killed the rest of them by now. Hot cars were all the rage in a drugged out stupor when the dealer was giving out samples. “I just… Can’t imagine, y’know?” Where would he have been if he had Blaine’s life? Would he have been one of those stuck up fuckasses that had his own head so far up his ass that his grasp on reality was null? The potential was there.
Undoubtedly, especially with his brain. He’d still have some good in him, but without the rest of his siblings, and the constantly sobering experience of his fuck up parents? What would all the money in the world buy? Clearly Blaine had the right heart, but Lip could be disgustingly arrogant. As it was, often he thought he was the smartest ones in the room, though putting down the bottle and actually looking in the mirror had started to make him realize that wasn’t always the case. From twelve years old, he walked through life either high or drunk, following in the footsteps of the deadbeats that he would forever be tied to. Without the humbling experiences, would he have ended up like one of those assholes that sold weed in the bathroom thinking they were above everyone else? “What was it like?”
Everyone back home would stare at him in disbelief if they knew where he spent almost every waking minute of his free time since falling into a friendship with Lip Gallagher. No. No over exaggeration. Blaine, quite literally, fell into the uncanny friendship via never quite growing past his severely light-weight status and way too much Purple Jesus. Which had nothing to do with religion or colors of the rainbow. Come to find out. Unless you counted praying to the porcelain god while throwing up the Lucky Charms you scarfed down trying to prevent kneeling for the rest of the night. Only to be let down in the worst possible way by Lucky the Leprechaun ever to exist. A stumble from a group of people who were more blurry than not followed by a trip and crash into a cursing, smoking just-not-as-drunk stranger who stuck around through that mess? Heck, even helped pick him up off the bathroom floor and put him in bed had gifted him one of the best people Blaine had ever known. With an iron stomach yet to boot? Happened to toss the two of them together and it just stuck. The rest, they say, is history.
Ever since that night, Blaine found himself gravitating towards Lip and his chaotic family with their weirdly functioning dysfunctional lives welcoming him into the fray far easier than people ‘of his own caliber’ ever would. There was no putting on a front with Lip. He’d see right through it anyway. No need to remain as put together, though that was a habit Blaine might always have without liquid courage to bring out another side of him. Being around Lip, the Gallaghers and by secondhand involvement, the Milkovich family was easy. Probably one of the easiest things Blaine’s ever done. Being relaxed back against a bunch of pillows pushed against the wall, legs stretched out in front of him, Blaine felt worlds apart from the live he normally lead. Perfectly so.
Turning his head at the mention of the hole barely hidden by the poster Blaine noticed weeks before Lip pointed it out tonight, Blaine stretched his feet and rocked his ankles shrugging as he looked back down at the other. “You should just start putting little plaques below it. Give the holes dates and titles. Frank Partied Too Hard Under The Bridge, March 2017. We could take pictures. You could use it as some edgy elective photography exhibit.” A warm smile and arch of his brow passed off the joke in a gentle, poking manner meant to make Lip smile back rather than to pick on anything about his father he couldn’t change.
Changing the subject was good, too. Even if the topic was aimed at him and his family situation. A subject Blaine always seemed to skirt around rather than dive into. He fell quiet, letting the patter of rain against the window fill the room as he thought of how to work his response without trying to make his past sound anywhere close to what Lip has gone through. In comparison. Blaine knew he was lonely but he had everything he wanted. Ignored, but his needs were provided for. He had money. Anything material he asked for, he could simply get. Polo lessons, sailing, country clubs and the list went on and on.
Lip grew up wondering if he’d have electricity the next day in the middle of winter. Or if his younger siblings would have something to eat the next day. Blaine, struggling for his father to love him for him was a hell of a lot different than Lip just giving up on his for the reasons he had. So how to word something you once thought was horrible when you’ve seen people like the Gallaghers? “Lonely. It was lonely. The quiet we have tonight is great when you barely get it. When that’s all you have? It sort of starts to feel like it’s seeping inside of you. Making your insides hollow and you start desperately trying anything to fill them up. I focused on people. On being what everyone wanted and hoping that’d fill me up again. Or fixing other people’s problems because fixing mine wasn’t going to happen. So,” he pressed his bottom lip against the upper and shrugged sheepishly. “I feel bad trying to make it sound like it was awful. It wasn’t. Not really. Could have been much worse than an empty house and quiet, you know?”
Part of Remy was almost convinced the other was going to say yes to this little proposal with the way that the others expression of…well, it was hard to really define. Remy simply gave that warm flirty smile of his though, making no attempt to create any distance between them. He was soaking it all in, regardless of its undefinable nature. The way those beautiful hazel eyes followed his hand, the way those pretty lips parted in unspoken words, that beautiful flush running over his face. Remy personally knew the way Sebastian talked about Blaine, the way he would talk about him with such affection and possession but Remy wasn’t scared to cross that line, after all, how could he let something as precious and breath-taking as Blaine slip through his fingers and go unappreciated? Remy chuckled at that question as he ran his tongue along his lower lip. “ Like, on a graph or…?” He was clearly joking before he gave a little nod. “You can start shirtless. You can go as far or as little as you’re comfortable with Blaine.” He said with his eyes locked to the others, his messy pink hair falling down the shoulder .”I just want to paint something beautiful. And that’s you, regardless of the state of dress.” His words danced over flirty as he sucked on the inside of his cheek to hide a smile. “I should really make that graph though. Give it a step definition of Remy art. Shirtless. Naked. Mid-orgasm.” He remarked lightly as he gave another shrug.
“This is really up to you B. Whatever you want.”
Speechless, Blaine felt frozen in place as Remy continued to look into his eyes making it impossible to look away. God. Impossible to blink if he were being perfectly honest. The point in Blaine’s throat bobbed hard as he strained to swallow. It’d been forever since someone stole the words off his tongue completely. Even with Sebastian and the amount of taunting his best friend could dish out, Blaine prided himself on being able to keep up with the conversation with a near expert precision honed through years of banter between the two. He rarely choked up now (only sometimes, but Sebastian was a difficult person to race with and winning any round of wits was something to feel proud of) and, sometimes, even goaded him on. But this one? Remy? Remy came at him without a warning label. Nothing could have prepared him for standing here trying his best to wish away the blush that made his cheeks tingle or the stammering he did every time he tried to find a word he couldn’t catch. “Like..a graph. Sure. That–That’d be the easiest way to keep up. Or know where you’re headed.” Any amount of groundwork he got towards steadying himself was stolen when Remy called him beautiful. The word made a pang of ache slash through his stomach. It’d been a long time since someone used beautiful to describe him. Super hot, sexy, cute. One day around Sebastian and all three would be used within a few hours. Beautiful, though? Hearing it made him feel dizzy from a level of happiness that was completely silly to think about.
“Wait. You paint people mid–.. Nevermind,” clearing his throat the former Warbler stepped back and fiddled with the hem of his grey and black wool sweater. “This can go. For now.. Okay?”
pianokeysandbowties back up 