Wow. After sifting through all of your heartwarming words of endearment? Believe it or not? I miss you, too, Santana. I’m sorry I didn’t reach out sooner. I’ll make sure to never let it happen again. Deal? Where have you been anyway?
Barry had always thought of that rainy day as a blessing. He
had his friends who by that point had become like family to him, but there was something entirely different about Blaine,
like the way every room he walked into seemed to get a little
brighter when he did, as did the smile on Barry’s face whenever
he caught sight of him. He must have been just one of those
people, Barry thought, those you only hear about in movies
starring Drew Barrymore. The kind of people that carried that
indescribable quality that had them bring joy and light
everywhere they went, so effortlessly, like they had no idea
they were doing it to begin with. And perhaps that first
impression was in fact correct– but it certainly didn’t explain
why Barry found himself talking about him far more often than
he realized, or why there was a little voice in his head warning
him friends didn’t look at each other like that whenever he got
absentmindedly lost while Blaine was talking, face resting on
his knuckles with a warm smile of awe ghosting over his lips,
most likely resembling the cartoon of a lovestruck forth-grader.
All of that which should have been to the answer to those and so
many other questions Blaine had unknowingly awakened, was
actually the last thing on his mind. Instead, his thoughts were
far more primitive, linked almost exclusively to the way he felt, to the way that felt. The hair on the back of his neck
stood as goosebumps rose all across his skin in response to him
bringing a hand up to his face. Through his veins, blood began
flowing even faster than usual, carrying all the different
chemical reactions that had suddenly been triggered, and he
heard his heart thumping in his ears. It had been a long time
since a kiss had had him feel like that. Intense as the
combination to all of those sensations was, almost overflowing
him, his instinctive response was to want more, a hand rising to
cup the back of Blaine’s neck in an attempt to get him exactly
that. In the process, he felt the tip of his tongue gently brush
against his, and he saw stars.
Describing how every part of his body was focused on this spinning, dizzying, wonderful sensation was impossible. Not without jumbling thoughts that were currently only tethered to one thing. One person. And everything about him was all Blaine wanted to hold onto. Instead? Blaine let go of the instinctual notion he had to piece together some sense in what he was doing before he made a huge error of judgement. Or pinpoint where in this friendship he started to see Barry as much more but dismissed it repeatedly out of fear of damaging something he now valued. Why did he have to think about any of that? All he found himself wanting needing–in what now seemed like a blur of time since maybe they first met–Barry to have more than a tiny taste and for that shift of gravity that seemed to pool in his stomach in the best sort of way? Barry was giving back. “Barry,” a low and wobbly exhale of his name paused the kiss when Barry cupped his neck and sent a shiver down his spine.
Blaine’s eyes lazily opened halfway to savor the sight of someone needing him, craving more just as badly as he was. A clouded glance flicked up towards Barry’s eyes in the realization and then closed again.
Tips of tongues reconnected-a bare graze that was the embodiment of restraint–and Blaine forgot what air was. Spreading fingers over Barry’s cheek and explored along his hairline–Blaine captured Barry’s wrist with the other hand, melting back to rest his shoulders against the back of the sofa and nudged Barry to come along. Could this man be any more beautiful? He’d never agree to it, but he was. His caress over Barry’s temple lowered, curling around the edge of his chin from underneath and gently nudged downwards to open his mouth. Holding on tenderly, Blaine peeked at Barry’s lips. They were wet and open and waiting because he made them that way. The idea made his heart sing. Fingertips turned white against the bones of Barry’s wrist. His restrain broke. His tentative kiss and taste turned much more desperate, deep enough that all of Barry’s mouth was his to explore. And what he found inside was heaven. With his pulse a racing, pounding thrum in his throat, chest, ears–Blaine could only groan and shift his touch from his cheek to his waist where trembling fingers balled up the hem of Barry’s shirt for something to cling to.
( mssg » wrong # | sent ) Hey, Santana. I need your help. My Dad is getting really angry with me. I won’t tell him who did it. He’s jumped to the conclusion that, yet again, public schools and a gay son who isn’t in the closet aren’t going to work. He thinks I got slushied by one of the kids at McKinley. I’m not correcting him. ( mssg » wrong # | sent ) He probably just wants someone to sue for the medical bills anyway. ( mssg » wrong # | sent ) I haven’t told Kurt but he’s threatening to make me to back to Dalton. I don’t have the nerve to tell him that going back to Dalton isn’t the answer. Obviously. You need to help me come up with a reason why without throwing them under the bus. I know you’d like nothing more than for me to do that but I can’t.
( mssg » wrong # | sent ) I appreciate the work you’re doing playing Cupid, Trent. It’s very sweet and I know you’re trying to help. ( mssg » wrong # | sent ) Texting a random stranger though? What am I supposed to say? “Hey? My friend Trent says you and I would look good together and might have some things in common? Plus, it’s been forever since I’ve been on a date. He’s worried I might end up becoming some eccentric, lonely old guy who collects cats and smells funny if I don’t soon?” ( mssg » wrong # | sent ) Which, by the way, was extremely rude. You’re lucky I like you.
( mssg » kassandra | sent ) You know? I might’ve cheated and I’m already here. How awful would that be? ( mssg » kassandra | sent ) PS. I think one of us would come out way better off than the other in that situation. Do you really want to put those stakes into play? Your choice. If you think it is a wise one. Ha!
I’m still learning to love the parts of me that no one claps for.
“Sort of? Everything I did was still me doing it, obviously but– Sebastian was just a persona.” Never has he wished alcohol would help him more. The liquid does nothing to ease his nerves and so he hardly touches it while the current amount of anxiety is strumming through his veins. “You can totally leave now if you want and I’ll never bother you again, or- ask questions? Whatever, I know it’s really weird and screwed up.” Weird didn’t begin to cover it. Neither did screwed up, Barry thought. There was a reason he had never told a soul about what he did in high school. As far as any of his current friends or coworkers were concerned, Barry was exactly the same as he is now.
With Blaine though it was not only a matter of how strange and wrong what he had done was, it was a betrayal in friendship. Every personal word Blaine shared, Barry could only meet with half truths at the best. Understandably, he was guilty for that detail on it’s own.
Blaine sat through the rest of Barry’s explanation with a partially open-mouthed look of dumbfounded he didn’t quite catch before he could turn it into something more neutral. An elbow propped up on the countertop and he palmed over his mouth as soon as he felt the heaviness of his expression sink in. One thing was for certain. He didn’t want to take Seb–Barry’s offer to get up and leave. Not when there were so many questions to ask. Certainly not after the minute he realized that so much of him wanted to stay put. It’d been a long time since he last saw this face until the restaurant and now. Despite everything? Turning his back and walking out the door just—he didn’t want to do that.
But there was a lead weight in his stomach, too. He tried to reason with himself in those seconds of utter silence that fell between them where he was just stupidly looking at Barry, that the feeling was only temporary. Something he could get rid of once he had answers. “I don’t want to leave. I really have missed you and it feels so good to see you again.. I–. Our friendship was real. Wasn’t it? The you that I got to know was YOU? How much of it was a persona talking in all the conversations we had and how much was you?” There that was a start. If it made any sense at all.
pianokeysandbowties 