Tate was a brick wall. Unmovable and unfeeling as Blaine felt his heart pounding in his chest like it might just break through his ribcage and take off if he wasn’t careful while taking a leap of faith and kissing him. Having no reactionin return, though? Even if Tate, didn’t pull back? Blaine did. This felt sort of like the total opposite of what he spent his nights awake hoping for. Maybe that one time thing of their first kiss weeks ago was meant to be a one time thing? Tate was right about how mother would react. Blaine, promptly, deflated. “Yeah. Yeah. You’re right.” His mother and Blaine’s dad took the same parenting class, it seemed. Only, Constance was worse. “Tate? I won’t do it again. I just thought..maybe you wanted me to. I’m sorry. I’m not that kind of person. Even if what might’ve said otherwise? I’m not. I promise.”
Tate’s reaction lay flat ; He didn’t kiss back , but he didn’t yank himself away from the embrace neither . He only sat there , and allowed Blaine to keep them connected for as long as he pleased . It had only been a few seconds , really , but it was enough to get his heart pounding from within his chest . Unfortunately , it was primarily from fear . He absolutely hated that he — DIDN’T MIND AT ALL . The blond dropped down heavily against Blaine’s shoulder with a sigh . “ My mom would kill me .”
“ Yeah , well , she also doesn’t like black people or her own children so , is it really that surprising ??” Constance was the very definition of judgmental ; She was ignorant , and didn’t like anyone that was slightly different from herself . It was a shame that she couldn’t see that she was the real problem here — not everyone around her . “ But why not ?? I mean , it’s just a stupid kiss . It’s not like I’m asking for your hand in marriage or anything , right ??” Boy or girl , romance was something that Tate had very little experience in . He wasn’t exactly well – liked at Westfield during his years there . It caused him to go into isolation ; Tate’s best friend throughout his entire childhood had been his big sister , Addie . No one else got him like she did . That was , until Blaine came along . “ And who knows . Maybe I’ll like it .” Tate readjusted himself on the porch ; More angled towards Blaine now , his hand creeping up along the concrete behind him . It was too late for his mother to be peering out the window at them , but he half wished she would . Oh , that’d be hilarious . “ I mean — I’ll try anything twice .” Teasing eyebrows quirked up as he closed in space between he and the other boy ; He wasn’t going to make contact , no , he was going to leave that up to Blaine . But he didn’t mean giving him a little encouragement to do so . “ Sorry if I taste like cigarettes .”
Constance couldn’t be any further from Blaine’s thoughts. Heck, she could be sitting in the bushes ready to scream bloody murder the second Tate’s and his lips touched for all Blaine could care. Nothing could ruin this moment because it was one he thought about for a lot longer than he’d ever want to admit. Out of fear and embarrassment that he’d let himself care so much for someone who might not ever be able to give that same amount of caring back. Sitting here on the verge of kissing Tate because Tate said he could? Blaine thought this moment would never more than a dream. Something he’d keep to himself. Even on nights where he had it with Tate crashed out in his room or so close that he could feel that electric buzz of his presence moving over his skin, making his hair stand on end. “Okay,” his breath caught in his throat but he grinned weakly at the twice. “That means I get two chances?” One for warm up? The second for the real deal? His first kiss was a breath away and he only shrugged at the apology. Didn’t matter how Tate tasted. All he wanted was this.. Dark eyelashes closed when Blaine brushed his lips over Tate’s, the hand holding on tightened while the other lifted. Fingertips gently curled against the other’s cheek. Tate’s skin was cooler than he expected but, then again, his own were flushed and hot as his whole body felt like it went on a Tilt-A-Whirl spin. Velvet wet and the last lingering flavor of nicotine and boy. So, this is what it felt like. Heaven.
Blaine didn’t really remember when he let his eyes fall shut. The steady stroke of Tate’s fingers through his hair sent him floating away with every brush of fingertips over his scalp that rose up to twist at his curls before dipping back inside. Tate could keep him prisoner forever if he kept this up. Blaine wouldn’t be able to move a muscle off the couch and he would be fine with that predicament.
Which, given how blissed out he was? Wasn’t much of a predicament at all.
He barely at it in himself to lift his head to glance up at the other. Though when their eyes met, hazel glistened with a bright eyed contentment that Tate was becoming so, so good at drawing out of him. “I’m glad you like it. You don’t have to stop if you don’t want to? Almost on the verge of promising you anything you want if you just keep going. Almost.” Five more minutes? He would be. Then right back down, he went.
“Hey, it’s cool,” Tate assured. “We’re cool.” On the other hand of things, Tate wasn’t nearly as sure how he felt. He seemed to have that problem a lot, with most things, not just romance. “I have to be honest, I’ve never really thought about being with a guy before. I mean, I’ve thought about Kurt Cobain but that’s different, he’s a celebrity.” Was. Was a celebrity. Tate didn’t correct himself, instead laughing, a nervous waver lacing it and making it sound the slightest bit strained. Flaming embers were flicked down into the dewy grass below them before he returned the butt of his cigarette back to his lips. He still hadn’t moved his hand out from underneath Blaine’s. “Ma doesn’t like gay people. She says uh, says they’re ‘an abomination of God’ — whatever that means — so I’ve never really considered it an option.” Tate couldn’t help but think about this as some sort of revenge on his mother ; But it truly wasn’t just that. He liked Blaine. A lot. “You can kiss me if you want to.”
“OhthankGod,” his relief was let go in one long exhale of release. Blaine was making friends at school but they were nothing like Tate. Not a single one made him so excited to spend time together the way the other boy did. He couldn’t help wondering what it’d be like for Tate to be there throughout the day. An impossible dream seeing as how Tate was expelled but it’d make the days even better. Hearing Tate’s mother’s stance on gay people stung but it was a bite that he wasn’t unfamiliar with. Unfortunately. “Well. Ignorance breeds fear. Fear breeds judgement. Sorry your mother feels that way,” his fingertips curled against the top of Tate’s hand and the offer caught him off guard. Dragging both their hands up to rest against his knee, he felt his face heat up. Still not diving off the ledge but moving closer to it by curiously inching in, his head tilted and he glanced down to Tate’s lips and back and he smiled but wow..his pulse was pounding. It wasn’t something that he hadn’t imagined more times than he’d ever admit to. ‘Want to’ was an understatement. But nerves got the best of him. “..I.. Are you sure it’s okay? I really like you..a lot. But I don’t want to ruin things either.”
Staring up at the sky dusted with thousands of glittering stars, Blaine realized this was the clearest night he’s seen since moving here. One of the only things he missed about Ohio was how far into the sky you could see on cloudless nights. A rarity here. He was so caught up admiring them, his internal debate on taking that first step caved. Perhaps a little too fast. A light touch to the top of Tate’s hand turned into a grab with a too tight twitch of his fingers. His breath stopped and he was looking down at their hands, too, when Tate spoke up. His first few tries at any sort of sound were only mouthed words and a flush that washed over his cheeks. Did he make a mistake? No turning back now. “I…um,” his lips pouted as he dipped his chin in a faint nod and cringed inwardly. “Yes.. You don’t have to feel the same. It’s not like that I’m expecting you to.” He forced himself to stop rambling and squinted over at Tate, offering him an apologetic smile (because he was beyond sorry) if he just made things weird.
“I like to think that nobody is beyond help.” It was a thought that kept him going after the terrible things that Ben had said to him ; Tate couldn’t be angry though. He ruined that family. You’re a psychopath, Tate! It’s a mental disorder and therapy can’t cure it! The blond suddenly seemed very uncomfortable with the topic. Fidgeting so much that he nudged Blaine from his shoulder and stood up. “Yeah — Yeah, I uh, I like to think that with the right people and stuff … Everyone can get better.” He could get better. Tate paced anxiously, the sleeve of his sweater coming up near his mouth as a nervous tick. “I think the problem is demonization. The media focuses on uh, how and when? And what about their crimes rather than why. When you get told that you’re a monster so many times, you start to believe it, ya know? And why try getting better if people are always going to see you as a monster.” Tate had to take a deep breath. Stop making this so personal, because Blaine was a smart boy. He was going to start wondering and asking questions. His hands raked back and forth a little too roughly in unruly blond hair before he went to settle back down on the sofa’s arm. “Nobody believes in redemption anymore. In forgiveness. And it’s really sad, you know? It’s really sad.”
“I’d like to think so, myself. I mean.. Writing off another human being is cruel. There’s a person with a heart in there. I agree with you but sometimes I wonder..” He watched Tate closely, his gaze momentarily shifting to Tate’s fingers before making eye contact again. “Do you think that some things people do can take that away? Or make people hate them enough for what they’ve done because it’s so beyond our capacity to forgive that that’s why they’re forgotten? There has to be some hope if other places focus on rehabilitating the worst of their offenders? Maybe it’s just an American thing?” Their country seemed far too apt to lock anyone away forever verses trying to help them move past their crimes. But? Which crimes were so unforgivable that there was no coming back? Regardless of mental health or lack of soul or whatever anyone else’s opinion was. What made a person truly irredeemable and who was the one to draw the line? “I think the root problem should be considered for each person. If they’re sick? It’s horrible to turn the other way. Monsters are supposed to be fairy tale villains meant to scare us or teach us a lesson. I don’t think it’s fair to run around saying they don’t exist while turning everyone we don’t understand into one. Sort of hypocritical. Don’t you think?” Or.. Was this conversation getting too upsetting? Maybe they should go back to talking about human belts and lampshades? Blaine bit his lip and pondered his options.
“I don’t know. I didn’t know the guy — I think it’s possible. He did have some serious mommy issues.” Tate paused, then laughed at himself. “Not that everyone with mommy issues make human-meat suits, or anything. I’m just saying. With how nuts this guy was, I wouldn’t put anything past him.” When the heart within Tate’s chest still beat, he spent hours and hours within the communal libraries. He didn’t have any friends, but he also didn’t want to sit at home with his drunken mother wandering about ; True crime had fascinated him in a way that much else didn’t. “I mean, he had a lot more than lampshades. He made bowls, and seat coverings. Waste baskets. Masks. A belt made entirely from nipples — This guy could have made some serious money if he found another material to work with.” Maybe the smile that crossed Tate’s lips was a little cruel, a little too dark to be socially acceptable. But he was so desensitized. He’d witnessed murder up close and personal on several occasions. Nothing really squicked him out.
A belt from..??? Oh…wow. That was certainly a way to express parental issues. Chopping up people and turning them into decor and clothing was way beyond coping with feeling ignored by one’s parents (or so he hoped, because eeeesh!). “I wonder if there is a therapy out there that could stop that from happening?” Seeing Tate’s smile was a bit unnerving considering his own eyes were so expressive at the moment. His entire body language complete with scrunched nose and teeth chewing on the inside of his lip as he mulled it over was caught up the moment. Where Tate seemed to be able to talk about it like he was talking about the weather. Blaine didn’t seem to think too hard on how little the other boy was reacting, though. A passing thought and the moment was one. Leave it to Blaine to be too fascinated with the topic to overanalyze what was right in front of him. “Do you think he really could have been something? If the proper ways of circumventing a meltdown of well..making furniture out of dead people proportions? Can you save someone like that..?” He spoke with curiosity the end, not accusation. He truly wanted to know Tate’s thoughts and seemed to be hinging on them.
tate.
“And, uh —” Tate’s train of thought seemed to derail when the weight of Blaine’s head rested against him. One quick glance to the side at the simple gesture was enough to make him have to try and subdue the smile on his face ; He did like Blaine. And it’d been so long since anyone had touched him in any sort of way. “Uh — Where was I? Oh yeah. Buffalo Bill, is based of Ed Gein cause like, there’s been suspicions that Ed was making a woman-suit but really never any hard evidence.” A few seconds later with his eyes trained on their movie, the blond’s cheek was pressed against the top of that curly mess. He didn’t really care what Blaine said, he sort of digged it without all that gel.
Being with Tate was comfortable. Like they’d always known each other. The boy was the one constant that wasn’t complicated or overwhelming. Tate was always there. Ready to hang out, listen, or simply be in awe over his cellphone and play games on it for hours while Blaine played the piano or music and stretched out on his floor staring at the ceiling as they talked about everything and nothing. Tonight, they’d chosen a movie marathon starting with Silence of the Lambs. An entire evening spent with Anthony Hopkins in movies he’s always been curious about but never seen or knew much of and good company? Blaine couldn’t complain. It felt easy to let his head fall to rest on Tate’s shoulder as he drew a heavy duvet up over their laps. Blaine’s nose crinkled and his gaze flicked from the screen to Tate. “Seriously? I never heard that. Only that he made lampshades out of people. What do you think?”
“I can stay the night if you want me to.” It was the weekend after all, so Blaine wouldn’t be getting up early. Tate would never admit it, but sometimes he liked to follow him around during his routine. It wasn’t meant to be in a creepy sort of way ; Blaine was just his only friend in a good, long while. He liked to spend time with him, whether he knew it or not. “I can’t imagine how lonely and isolated it must feel to have moved so far away. Especially into a big house like this.” This house just oozed discomfort. It always had, and Tate wasn’t even sure at this point if it were the spirits that perpetually wandered around inside. Something about it was just so terribly — Off. “Why did you move, anyway? I mean, yeah, Los Angeles is nice and stuff. People like to be near Hollywood, though if you asked me, it’s not as special the second time around. It’s not like they show in the movies.” While films showed nothing but the glitter and glam of a city that was made from lights, the truth was so far different. Homelessness was rampant and it was filled mostly with people who had their dreams crushed long ago. This is what happened to his mother, after all. And now she drank her sorrows away.
“Sometimes, it gets so quiet every creak makes me think someone’s here. A sure sign I watch too many horror movies when I’m alone and should probably stop,” Blaine confessed but then backed the confession up with a joke because how childish could admitting you get creeped out from the house settling get? “You’re more than welcome to stay.” Quickly adding that in to graze over the subject of him preferring not to be alone once again, Blaine took the chance to change the subject. Though answering the question made him cringe inwardly. Chewing on his bottom lip–he turned and relaxed his head back against the headboard. “I–ah. Something happened at my old school. After a dance. Ended up with me in the hospital and my Dad deciding we needed to have a fresh start somewhere else. My brother suggested here. My Dad put in for a transfer and here we are..” Smiling faintly, he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and tried to pretend he was more fine with everything than he actually was. Guilt ran deep with Blaine and he wasn’t as over it as he pretended to be. “So you like it here instead then?”
pianokeysandbowties back up 