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?”
It’s terrifying to be drugged- and Mason’s pretty damned positive that’s what’s going on here. It makes him want to throw up- to get whatever is in his system out of it. It’s worse than chocolate– something he’s deathly allergic to, well.. cocoa beans at least.The 6′1 male is genuinely shaking. He feels like he’s about to pass out and by the second Blaine pulls him outside, he’s looking like he’s completely glazed over. English isn’t something he’s comprehending.
He stares down at the smaller male and his eyebrows furrow. Blaine’s clearly talking to him, but he can’t make out the words. “Speak clearer,” he asks, with an added ‘please’ at the end. His heartbeat is pounding and he feels like everyone else is running while he’s in slow motion. Bright eyes scan the night sky as he tries to look around for someone. He had been talking up this guy at the bar for a bit- but he’s nowhere to be seen. It wasn’t like he had tasted anything funny in his drinks either.
Mason’s about to fall- he can feel it, and it’s not like Blaine’s strong enough to get him into the uber, so he’s trying his hardest to stand up straight, but his knees are like jell-o This is the worst feeling Mason McCarthy has ever felt.
“I– B, I need to sit down. —- Please.”
Oh my God! Blaine was a mix of terrified and enraged. Hazel eyes screamed that he wanted to go back into the club, find the person that did this and use them in place of the the punching bag hanging in his apartment that he’s neglected for months. His was face drained of color and blank from worry as he stared up at Mason. Trembling hands did their best to hold onto him so he didn’t topple over once they were on the sidewalk and on their own. The few people who passed by didn’t pay them much mind. More than an glance or two.
He had to force himself not to give a second’s worth of a glance to anyone who got too close to them wondering if the psycho that did this was sneaking out to see if Mason was left alone. Focusing on his friend was the main concern. Not anyone else. Or the fact that he really really wanted to punch the guy. “I’m sorry, Mason. I’ll try to speak slower,” and he did through wrapping his arm more firmly around Mason’s slender waist and holding tight.
“Sure. Let’s sit down. Keep talking. Okay?” He gently swerved them away from the foot traffic and gingerly lowered himself towards a bent knee to help Mason down on the sidewalk.
“You’re going to be okay. I promise. Do you want to go to the hospital,” he asked but was already debating on taking him anyway. Who knew what he was on? Or how much?
pianokeysandbowties 