“Ma told me you stopped by earlier looking for me. Sorry about that, I was, ya know — Doing some chores and shit.” She’d warned him from over the fence to stop sending people her way ; Eventually his inability to come to the door would be unexplainable, and people will ask questions. But it was too late for that. All he could do was steer Blaine away from his mother’s house. “She’s a real stickler for me finishing that stuff before I get to go do anything.” He forced in a smile, dropping himself down onto his friend’s mattress. “That and she doesn’t like people in the house. I don’t know why, paranoid I guess.”
The idea that Tate’s mother was paranoid to have people in her house when Tate made sure to warn him that she had a very bad case of sticky fingers was not only ironic but vaguely insulting. But the way she spoke when he was at the door? It felt like she was nervous. Like she’d rather have anyone but him standing there asking to see her son. Had he done something to offend her when she visited? He had no idea and she didn’t give him any window of opportunity to ask either. To say he left the doorstep confused was an understatement. Tate was here, though and Blaine was doing his best to let the whole situation go. Plopping beside him, he folded his legs up onto the bed, ankles crossed together and curled his fingers around them. “It’s okay. You’re in the clear now, right? I mean. You can stay for a while, yeah? My parents are out of town and I’m still not used to this place yet. Feels way too quiet at night.. Mostly.”
“I’m starving.” Easy as pie. A little casual conversation and Tate was already formally inside ; The butt of his cigarette was dropped in the gestured to planter before he stepped up on the patio behind his new found friend. “We were both kicked out, but it’s still bullshit if you ask me. He bullied me ruthlessly, day-in and day-out. Guess I just snapped one day.” Or, at least half of that story was true. Tate’s eyes peered around the foyer of his prison sentence in feigned interest of what was suppose to be a new environment. Though, in truth, Tate had grown so sick of that house it made him feel nauseous sometimes.
“People didn’t really like me there. I mean, some of it’s my own fault, I have to admit that. But I was never cruel to anybody. I guess I’m just — a little too weird for your average teenager, huh?” The blond shrugged it off with a grin, though it seemed out of place compared to his words ; This wasn’t a part that he was fabricating for the lie he un-lived. The general student body back when he did attend that school wasn’t fond of him, apparently he gave off an unnerving vibe to most. “Though I doubt anyone there remembers me anymore.”
A little casual conversation was all Tate truly needed. Even after the reason for his family’s move here, Blaine seemed to trust someone at face value alone. Giving people (and their intentions) the benefit of the doubt they they were good until he was proved wrong was how Blaine Anderson was wired. Some people tried but even they couldn’t beat it out of him. Call it a flaw or a weakness. His darkest hours might make him second guess himself. Think maybe he wasn’t capable of staying this way. But when the light came back and the clouds lifted from his thoughts (and they always lifted), the need to believe in people always seeps back in. It was doubtful it could ever be changed. Not now. Not ever.
His entire posture changed as Tate told him the reason why he was expelled. A bitter taste of knowing what that felt like churned in his stomach. Enough that it made his ever present smile twitch down to nothing. “Being different doesn’t warrant your life being made hell. I’m sorry you went through that. I know what it’s like..” He was quick shrug it off not wanting Tate to focus on the past (slippery slope and all). “That’s okay. Make new memories with new people. Let them forget you. It’s not like they matter–Oh! Kitchen’s this way,” he headed towards the hall digging his vibrating cell out from his pocket to read the message as he lead them. His face fell but he said nothing and sat it down on the counter. “I–Sorry. Uh–. Any requests?”
Tate couldn’t help but laugh at a little at ‘she was nice’.Poor, poor naive boy ; Constance was a cold-hearted bitch, but he’d learn over time. His mother had something of a skill at getting on people’s bad sides. “Seventeen,” he replied. The cigarette was brought up to his lips for once last puff before he snuffed it against the soul of his shoe. He’d typically just toss it into the yard, but despite his severe lack of social skills, even he knew that would be rude right in front of Blaine. “Happy early birthday, man. I’ll try to remember that.” He was right around Violet’s age.
“I uhm, I actually don’t go to that school anymore. They kicked me out. For fighting.” He draped his arm around the banister at the end of the stair’s railing to lean against. Tate’s game plan was to make enough conversation, and linger enough, that he was invited inside ; This kid seemed friendly enough. “My mom homeschools me now. I don’t — I don’t make friends very easily, I guess. So, when ma told me you just moved in, and you were right around my age, I wanted to come say hi. So — hi.”
Blaine noticed the laugh and had to wonder exactly how badly the strange woman had to get on her son’s nerves to earn that kind of sardonic chuckle just from someone telling him she was nice. Interesting dynamic, perhaps? How interesting, though? In the end? At least she was around to get on her son’s nerves. Who knew what was better? Absentee or hover parenting? Maybe they could compare notes one day. Hazel eyes brightened and a truly grateful smile greeted the birthday wish. “Thanks. I have no plans yet. If you do remember, you should come by.” It’d be better than spending it alone and if he wasn’t alone? The company to distract him from his parents and his brother (if he was free enough to visit) was more than welcome.
So, that was why he didn’t recognize Tate in the slightest. Blaine motioned towards a planter where he could get rid of his cigarette butt. No one would notice it there. “Why were you the one kicked out?” Genuine curiosity was clear in his voice. “If you don’t mind me asking? Wait–sorry. Before you answer that,” he thumbed over his shoulder towards the door, “Did you want to come in?” Bending, he grabbed his bag and waited for Tate to take him up on the offer. “I’m sure I can find us something to eat if you’re hungry?”
Paper burned further up the length of Tate’s cigarette as he turned his attention towards the homeowners son ; He’d been lingering about, unseen, and he seemed kind-hearted. Maybe a bit naive in certain aspects, and that created a sense of sympathy within the haunt. The house that they shared was not for someone with either of those traits. Tate held his smoke at a distance, tapping his thumb against the filter to knock ash to the walkway ; Gray being blown from this nostrils all the while. “No, I uh —” didn’t have an explanation. So Tate just shrugged and smiled. “I live next door. You probably met my mom, she likes to greet all the new neighbors. Blond. Real southern accent. Mediocre baking skills.”
He used the railing to draw himself to his feet, meeting Blaine’s stepped with an outstretched hand. “Watch her, she likes to steal jewelry.” He glanced over towards his mother’s home, eyes casting over the window to see if she was creeping ; She’d always been a nosy bitch. “I’m Tate. It’s nice to meet you. How old are you?”
“I did. She was nice.” Blaine remembered the woman who came to say hello. Her accent stood out the most. With draw like the one that tinted her voice, it’d taken his attention off the piano he was playing when his mother let her in and lured him out to greet her. She seemed nice enough. Or maybe a little over-nice and very curious about what they were doing with the house. But he didn’t think for a second she was a thief. Did she wander off? He couldn’t remember. Still, he’d warn his mom about that later.
Side stepping past the cigarette smoke, Blaine climbed up the stairs and sat his bag down on the porch happy to have someone to talk to that seemed his age. Or close. Even though it was more than a little strange Tate was waiting for him when he came home from school, he’d brush it off as the other boy perhaps being a quirky as his mom. “I’m Blaine. It’s really nice to meet you too. You don’t look familiar from school..but..I’m still learning faces. Sorry. I’ll be sixteen in two months. How about you?”
Coming home from his second day at a new school in a new state to a new house to live his new life felt surreal. Blaine’s world changed so fast after what happened at his last school that his head was still spinning trying to let it all absorb. Most of the time he felt like he was constantly waking up from a dream and trying to get his bearings. On repeat. For over a week or more now. His mother tried to reassure him he’d settle, that this was for the best. But he wasn’t so sure.
When he saw a blond boy sitting on the top porch stair, he stopped dead in his tracks. A crease brought on by curiosity ran between his eyebrows and across his forehead. “Hi,” that same confusion was apparent in the bewildered tone of his voice and smile that slowly appeared as he stepped towards the stranger. “I don’t think we’ve met.. I’m Blaine. Can I help you?”
pianokeysandbowties back up 