HE FEELS LIKE this had been his worst night. It was never great, he never even got more than a half-hearted chuckle and one or two jokes in a ten minute set, but GOOD GOD, the silence had been deafening. Hell, he’d not even dragged his friends along to make comments and pretend that it ‘wasn’t all bad’ – in fact, Richard is almost certain one guy up and left, actually LEFT, midway through. The response earns a smile though, and a muted chuckle of his own. “Please god, yes. Something liver-threateningly alcoholic.” He smiles, swearing that he’s seen this guys face before but entirely unable to place it. It’s not like it could be from here. No person in their right mind would see Richard’s set once and then WILLINGLY come back.
“I’m Richard… you’re not the COUGHING guy are you?”
The poor guy was only doing what he loved to do. Regardless of how others might, you know, NOT? Richard was being his best self and that was what was important. So said the inspirational quote on the subway he read this morning. Whether or not it, actually, applied to the comedian’s situation? Well…. Maybe there were funny jokes hidden in there somewhere he hasn’t tapped into yet? On the plus side? He made him chuckle at the drink he wanted. “Okay then. Something that should come with a stomach pump for just in case situations. Got it.” Blaine shrugged at the bartender who lifted a brow giving him the okay to add it to his tab and his round two plus Richard’s turpentine-like mixture was on the way.
“Definitely not coughing guy. I’d point him out but he’s too busy trying not to make eye contact with you now that you’re not stuck up there. Rough crowd tonight. Sorry about that. I’m Blaine,” their drinks were slid across the bar, “Nice to meet you Richard.”
“LIKE ‘ARE GONE’?ARGON. it’s a science joke, people!” it’s common knowledge that jokes work better when they do not have to be explained. there’s no response from the crowd – with the exception of one pity laugh from the barman before he walks down from the stage. and as if by magic, the simple act of him stepping off of the platform has the entire bar filling with noise again. fucking typical. heading for his usual post-gig seat at the bar, richard’s head tilts back in a loud groan.
“like argon…. that’s fucking funny.” it’s said to himself, only adding as he looks over to the person beside him, “what a way to spend a saturday night, huh?”
Dead silence followed each joke. Cringe worthy silence. Complete with occasional cough to clear someone who was really trying to be a jerk’s throat. Blaine was perched on his stool listening, a half smile parted his lips and he wasn’t sure if it was the jokes he was cracking one at? Or having a sympathetic moment for the performer who wasn’t just bombing? But was taking a nosedive towards the ground at full speed. Something Blaine has watched him do before. Repeatedly. Though his presence was usually easy to blend into the background of the sparse patrons. Just another soul hunched over the bar enjoying a free poured drink that had enough alcohol in it for two. Probably to numb the pain coming from the stage.
“There’s worse ways,” Blaine huffed a real chuckle this time tapping the rim of his glass with his pointer finger. “Can I buy us a round? It looks like you need one.” Or four?
( mssg » kurt | sent) I thought it’d be a good idea to check on you. See how you were doing. ( mssg » kurt | sent) Last night was a rollercoaster for both of us. I want to make sure you’re doing okay. ( mssg » kurt | sent) Message me back when you can.
Nooooo! That makes me sad! Because you’re way too cute to deserve being anxious about anything! You’re wonderful and I adore you, Enzo and just the planet for plopping you on itself. Come here and let me hug you to pieces.
Gah! I understand. I have partners who intimidate me sometimes with how much they write. What’s important is to find people who don’t really care about post length. The ones that mean it will let you enjoy your time writing and are excited to write with you no matter what size of paragraphs either one of you reply with. Seriously! I don’t care if I write a ton and someone gives me a paragraph back as long as that paragraph has something in it that I can work with to move the plot forward. An entire post with one line of dialogue back doesn’t give you much at all but if you’re passionate about your character and we’re having fun? Writing isn’t a contest of how little or how much. It’s just about the experience of doing something I enjoy and meeting passionate, amazing people. Which if I’m following you? I think you’re one of those already.
(Rest Under Read More)
☾ – I don’t know how to approach you
This one is easy peasy. Just hop into my inbox, my messenger (if we’re mutuals), or ask for my discord (mutuals only as well) and send me something either A. IN ALL CAPS about something you love/read/saw/feel about anything. Or! B. Tag me but poke me so I see it. And lastly. C. Hitting me upside my head with something is painful but acceptable.
☄ – I’m super anxious about EVERYTHING
I getchu. There’s a ton in life to be anxious about. So I try to be a person who doesn’t create that for people. If you want someone to just chill and talk to? Or say hey if you want a distraction from something? Hit me up. But one step at a time can get you through a lot in life. Just, sometimes, it gets really hard to remember that.
♔- I can’t think of a plot for us and I want to figure that out first! ☃ – I’m not sure how our characters would meet. ☁- I’m worried you only RP with a certain group of people. ♛ – I wrote you a starter and you haven’t replied yet… ★ – I’m intimidated by how much you write ☂ – I’m intimdated by how often you post ☾ – I don’t know how to approach you ☄ – I’m super anxious about EVERYTHING ☀ – I keep hoping you’ll message me first…
Blaine had no idea who the blond boy was that yelled his name and nearly brought the performance to a halt before the stunned lead regained his composure and centered himself. Every time Sam met his eyes while he sang, it was with a familiarity that Blaine didn’t quite get. More than once, it made the Warbler blush. Olive skin dusted pink from self consciousness once Sam broke eye contact. And he always broke it first. Blaine’s color easily chalked up to how many times he’d managed to walk across the back of a couch only to end up standing on top of the piano. Seriously, his parents would kill him if they knew how bouncy he was.
Did the boy have any idea he even noticed him? Or did he dismiss it as Blaine simply acknowledging the other’s presence? But Blaine did notice. He might not have approached screamed his name like Sam did, but he noticed. That was Sam’s point wasn’t it? To get his attention? Blaine had never seen him before but Sam must have seen or heard of him to know his name. It was as flattering as it was confusing and Blaine couldn’t help but want to know more. Yes, he had people who loved his performances. Never one so in love that they made an outburst in the middle of one though. That was new.
A strange feeling came over him in the hours afterwards. It was the same feeling he got when he was at therapy. Or when Cooper showed him dozens of pictures of the two of them. Always looking half cut off or parts of them out of frame. Like what happens when someone rushes back before the timer goes off. But they looked happy. Cooper looked happier, though. Probably because he was only visiting. Blaine had trouble explaining to him that he wished he wouldn’t go. Because, in Blaine’s world, he’d made that argument only a handful of years ago. As promised, he came back four times now. The routine was nice. His brother lead him through every step the doctors said and Blaine swore he felt something come to mind but always lost it at the last second before he could grab onto it.
Exactly how he felt when he saw Sam without Sam realizing he’d made it to where he said they could meet. Sam was four people ahead of him in line at the cafe. He was on the phone and Blaine couldn’t hear what he was saying but it was how he was saying it that made Blaine’s head tilt. Sam looked soft, patient. Encouraging whoever was on the other end of the phone with soft tones and a gentle smile. Blaine knew that look but knew it was impossible. Because Sam was the new kid. The new new kid. So he found out in the rushed introduction after the signing came to a stop and poor Sam looked like he wanted to crawl in a hole somewhere as he approached him. It was his first day and he was picking up the torch Blaine left behind when he transferred earlier in the year.
Gotta love the way his brain works. Memories were thoughts sometimes. Thoughts were memories (maybe). Or was he making stuff up as he went along to fill in the blanks because the blanks were unnerving?
‘Well… Maybe we can’t fix it. But maybe we could try again?’
Hands shook underneath the table as he wrung them together harder and harder the longer he listened. His parents kept him under lock and key after the incident. He hadn’t met anyone who knew him before. No one came to visit. No one bothered to try to see him. Or so he was lead to believe. An option he hasn’t considered until now. Did his parents hide Sam? If so? Why? The question was on the tip of his tongue and he leaned in to ask it. But everything stopped when a weather worn strip of photographs came sliding carefully across the table. “We look so happy. How is that stupid? It’s not stupid.” Pain laced around the words of encouragement. How could he hurt for memories that were lost? Well. One look at Sam and you had the answer. Sam looked lost. Broken because of him. Because of what was lost and what was inside that picture was part of it. There was happiness there. Pure happiness and the two of them were brimming over with it.
Blaine brought one hand up while the other grabbed at the inside of his knee. Pink crescent shapes created by his fingernails lined the top and side. But, he reached out and touched the very edge of the photographs. His silent, reassuring smile and careful meeting of Sam’s gaze was a promise he’d never do anything to harm them. Pulling it across the table before placing his hand back underneath where it snatched the other up in a blink–Blaine studied their faces closely. “It looks like the best time of my life and then some. We look..,” like two people who cared so deeply for each other that Blaine understood why Sam looked so hurt even more. “You don’t have to walk away. We can try. I want to know you. I need to know you. Is that okay? A promise to try? I just..,” his nose scrunched and he tried to say it as gently as possible, “I don’t want to upset you if..if you really see how much I don’t..” Swinging his hand up, he wriggled his fingers by the side of his head and let them fall again. “You know?”
Laughter. Light and as happy as he was inside the Warblers Common Room. “Wolverine? You sure? I mean. Who gives up Wolverine?”
pianokeysandbowties 