Blaine
High school was three years of his life. Three years of sitting and chatting with people, pretending to be the best of friends, and sometimes actually being the best of friends. Then one day, it would all end and they would all go their separate ways and Blaine would more and likely never see any of them again.
And that was a concept that he was very, very okay with.
So, after Blaine had trained himself to keep that mindset, he was a reasonable and rational kind of guy. When someone would tell him something about someone that was most probably very untrue, he wouldn't repeat it. If anyone said something about him that was absolute bullshit, he'd shrug it off. He never let things weigh him down. He never was one to let the scumbags the school get the better of him. He always believed in being the 'bigger guy'. Never losing his temper, at anyone about anything, because to him, that was the weakest kind of person.
But, on this day he came very close to breaking his one rule. After weeks of nothing from Theo, Blaine came so close to losing his cool, letting his school bag, empty except for the calculator and pencils he was allowed to bring into his calculus exam, fall to the tiled bathroom floor. So close to grabbing the back of Sargent Goldsmith's head and smashing his nearly perfectly symmetrical face into the mirror over the sink.
Sargent Goldsmith lived up to every aspect of his name. He was regal and golden. Tall and demanding of respect with his golden brown gaze that was once soft now hardened over time by burdens Blaine only knew of through rumours and whispers. And he wasn't fond of listening to them.
However, the boy that was before him now wasn't regal. He wasn't tall or respectable. He was hunched over, head low, resting his lower back against the porcelain sink behind him; his hands clenched the sides beside his hips when Blaine entered the bathroom, obviously aware of his presence. Blaine couldn't see the face hidden behind the hair that hung to just past his nose. This wasn't Sargent Goldsmith, not the Sargent Blaine had once known, anyway, but a shell.
Blaine and Sargent had been friends, close with each other since the seventh grade, and he drove Blaine up a wall sometimes. He was bright like the sun could be during a rainstorm, warm even through the coldest times. He was forceful in the best ways possible. Talking to him would make anyone feel good about themselves. Blaine sometimes found that talking to Sargent Goldsmith made him feel like he could take on the world and that Sargent would behind him the whole way. He was the kind of kid that would want to do something, think about it for about thirty seconds before going in head first, and if he came out with cuts and bruises and a broken bike that didn't take the jump as well as planned, Sargent would be laughing. Wide and loud for the world to see, shinning with pride, because at least he tried. Blaine could never imagine a time where he'd drop his relation with Sargent cold turkey.
Now, the bright sun in the rainstorm boy was gone and replaced long ago with a sickening grey sky that the sun could never penetrate. The bloodied mouth smile that came after an ill thought out bike stunt was now just a cruel bloodied smile, reddened by anyone who happened to get in his way. It was known that the blood was never Sargent's anymore.
When Sargent turned and looked at Blaine, his eyes that were once soft were hollow. Blaine shook his head slowly. An empty shell. They stared at each other for so long that Blaine was certain someone would walk in before either of them could say anything. No one came in after a minute, not two, or three, and finally Sargent moved, his head still lowered as though it was hard for him to look at Blaine. Blaine caught him by his arm as he walked back, and felt the boy flinch at the contact. The bicep that was once firm and strong felt weak and sinewy beneath his hand and Blaine felt a wave of pity. He said nothing about it though.
"Why didn't you stop it?" He asked lowly. Not looking at Sargent. There was silence. It was too silent. He couldn't even hear if the other boy was breathing. Did he still breathe? Did he possess any kind of life that wasn't snorted or smoked or injected anymore?
"Why didn't you?" Even Sargent's voice didn't sound like him, and it made Blaine look at him. The hollow eyes were trained on the ghastly brown and orange tiled floor of the bathroom. Blaine let go of his arm quickly, and Sargent stood there for a second longer before leaving the bathroom. As he left, Blaine could hear the sound of his voice, empty and void, and almost gravely echoing in his head. He was angry with Sargent, furious to the point of nearly being driven to violence, but a heavy feeling welled up in his chest. A memory, and all Blaine could think was.
"My God, Sargent. What happened to you?"
The story of Theo's run in with the justice system seemed to have reached everyone, and it seemed that everyone who Blaine saw on his way home from the school just had to tell him all about it. Each story he heard was different and more ridiculous than the last, and after what felt like and may have been the twelfth time, Blaine had heard enough.
He made his opinion very clear when a small blonde girl he recognized from third period study block from the first semester of the year, came up to tell him the not so new news. He didn't lose his temper. In fact, he didn't say a single word. He just stood completely still, rooted on the spot and stared her in the eye with out blinking until she became so uncomfortable that she gave up on the story and left him standing in the middle of the sidewalk alone.
Watching her quickly walk away from him made Blaine's heart sing with joy for the first time in weeks.
The lights inside the house were not on when he got home which meant that either Dwayne's friends weren't here or that Dwayne was out. When he unlocked the door and stepped into the foyer though, he saw a pair of purple Vans, significantly smaller than any of the other shoes, sitting next to his brother's usual paint splattered Doc Martins. With a quick quirk or his lips, closed the door, toed off his shoes and made it way down the hall to his bedroom. He considered banging on Dwayne's bedroom door as he past, but he liked Ollie, but the boy could also be as mean and vicious as a badger, and would probably tear out Blaine's eyes if he did anything to interrupt them. So, Blaine walked by quietly and heard the sound of gentle laughing and deep chuckles coming from behind the door.
He pushed his bedroom door closed. He tossed his bag onto his neatly made bed and immediately pulled out his phone. He looked at the LED screen. He knew that if he wanted answers, clear, to the point and probably answers most likely to be true, then he'd have to go right to the source.
Theo.
The wallpaper, a self-taken photo of he and his long time girlfriend lit up with an incoming call. The text on the screen told him it was Suzie, the girl in the picture. He dragged his finger across the unlock prompt on the screen and pressed it to his ear.
"Hey." He said with a smile.
"Staring at the phone won't make him call any faster." The voice didn't belong to Suzie, but he knew it well enough.
"How do you do that? And why do you have your sisters phone?" He asked.
"I'm good at things. And I'm good at things." The girl on the other line said, her inflection changing between the 'things.' and 'things.'"You shouldn't call him."
"I know." He said.
"He'll call you." She retorted.
"I know." He said again with a bit more force.
There was a pause. Silence.
"Well. Okay. Just as long as you know. I'm going to go now." She said dryly.
"Wait. How do you know?" Blaine asked, finding himself honestly curious.
"I know things." This time the she had said it simply stated that she did in fact know things and her tone told him that that was all he was going to get from her. He heard the sound of movement from the other end of the line.
"Please have your sister call me." Blaine said quickly before the line went dead. The conversation was over.
He lowered the phone and hung up, letting his thumb linger over the red circle on the glass. She was right; waiting for Theo to call would be the best idea. He needed his space and as much as it annoyed Blaine, he was willing to give Theo all the space in the world. If this were any other case of simple end of the year teenage drama, Blaine wouldn't be able to find a care to give, but this involved Theo and Sargent. That meant that is wasn't a typical case of teenage drama. It meant that it was more than likely, personal. Personal against Theo, and that gave Blaine the reason to find a care.
Worrying his lip, Blaine looked hard at the device in his hand. Was Theo really going to call him, or did the kid decide that this was one hole he wanted to try to climb out of on his own? How long would it take him to call? Was he expecting Blaine to call first?
Finally giving into his older brother nature, he swiped his thumb along the screen, opened his contact list and was about to make the call when the phone began to vibrate. He stared down at the name flashing on the screen.
Theo
Blaine let ring three more times before answering.
"Blaine here."
"Blaine. Hi." Theo's voice was tentative and Blaine could hear the unspoken 'It's Theo.'
"Theo." He answered, keeping his voice calm. Blaine was upset and practically vibrating with it. From the minute he heard Theo's hesitant voice, Blaine wanted nothing more than to drill him with question after question until he got what the answers he wanted.
But that would scare Theo. He'd probably intimidate him and be pushed away, and that was the last thing Blaine wanted, and probably the worst thing for Theo right now.
No. Theo needed Blaine right now. He needed the big brother that Blaine was. So, Blaine waited until he the anxiety stilled a bit before speaking again.
"Are you going to tell me what you've gotten yourself into?" He asked. The chances of Theo telling him straight out what had happened were very slim, but it was worth a shot.
"I have a feeling that you already have an idea what I've gotten myself into..."
"I do," Blaine said, "Actually, the entire school body has about twelve different ideas about what happened. But I want you to tell me."
He hung-up after he said good-bye and heard Theo say the words back, and dropped his hand down onto his bed. He ran his fingers alone the maroon fabric of the soft bedspread, eyes transfixed on the ceiling above him. A soft knock on his door failed to draw his out of his thought trance, but when it opened and a freshly showered Dwayne stepped into the room, Blaine spoke.
"Has Ollie gone home?"
"He has." Dwayne said.
"Hm."
"How much did Theo tell you?" Blaine looked down his body and at his brother standing at a comfortable distance between the open door and the bed. His thumbs hitched in the pockets of his jeans.
Blaine sighed, rolling onto his side. "Not nearly enough, unfortunately." Blaine watched his brother shift on his feet and cross his arms.
"Do you have a plan?" He asked.
"He's reading 'The Hobbit.'" Blaine said, as if that was a crystal clear explanation for everything. Dwayne gave a one-shoulder shrug as he shook his head.
"Yeah. So?" He said gruffly.
"He was talking about 'Thorin's conviction' and his desire to redeem himself."
"Do you think that he's going to take action and conjure some ridiculous plan and go head first into a mission of self discovery? All inspired by some mad feels he got from a book."
"That's exactly what I think."
"The idiot is going to get himself into even more shit." Dwayne growled, closing his eyes and letting his read roll back.
"I know." Blaine said sitting up, "So we are going to play a card that I just came up with. I call it the 'Gandalf card.'" He paused and looked up at his brother. Dwayne looked back, brows raised, expression caught somewhere between bored and disgusted.
"That sounds fucking stupid." He said. Blaine ignored him and spoke again.
"If he believes that he can get what he needs to prove his innocence-"
"He's stupid. Just like that stupid name. I'm serious. Change it. We can call it anything else." Dwayne interrupted. Blaine forced down his irritation and raised his voice to speak over his brothers complaining.
"-Then he can't do it himself."
Dwayne's eyes went from bored, to understanding in the second it took for his lifted brows to drop back to place.
"Are you thinking what I think you are?" He said. Still sounding bored, but less bored.
Blaine shrugged, "She called me, so she's not completely ignorant of the situation. I know it would be weird to ask her to-"He stopped when Dwayne began to shake his head,
"No." Dwayne said, rather more excited than Blaine had been expecting. Though that wasn't saying much, judging his reaction when Blaine first said 'Gandalf Card', Dwayne could have probably coughed with more enthusiasm. "She and Ollie are like this." Dwayne finished. He held up his right hand and crossed his fingers, "I don't think it'd be that weird. Just bros helping bros."
"Well then." Blaine said getting to his feet. He crossed his room and walked past Dwayne. "Let's go get our Thorin a Burglar." Dwayne groaned.
"Still sounds fucking stupid. I need coffee first." Dwayne called after him as Blaine moved towards the front door.
"Call the boys. Have them meet us at Starbucks." He called over his shoulder. He saw that his parents were now home, their shoes by the door and their keys hanging in the key box. He was slipping on his shoes when he heard Dwayne talking pleasantly to someone on the phone. He ended the call and dropped his phone to harshly tug his boots on.
"I don't understand how you can wear those in the summer." Blaine commented, pulling his arms through the sleeves of his light summer coat, "Your feet must be dying."
"Fashion sees no season." Dwayne muttered standing to his full height. He brushed past Blaine. "Now come, bother. We have plotting to do."
"And scheming."
"Plotting and scheming."
They called out into the house, telling their parents they were leaving and took off down the street, the now setting sun coloured their path in a stunning hue of blue and orange and their as their shadows danced beautifully in the light, Blaine knew they were running into what would possibly become one of the most exciting summers of their youth.
The thought spurred him forward with a laugh and echoed in the street.