Through The Eyes To Your Soul (1/15)
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Through Season 2
Word Count: ~3500 (this part)
Disclaimer: Recognize it? It ain't mine.
Summary: SoulmateAU. Story begins just prior to NBK. Blaine goes through a procedure to find his soulmate. The results aren't quite what he was expecting.
A/N: Parts of this story have been in my head for months. I don't generally write, at all really, but this wouldn't go away. Technically this is a WIP, though the story is completely written and just needs some major editing. Obviously some of the so-called science is fiction. Thanks for reading.
Prologue
193 hours until his appointment
What am I hoping for? Best-case scenario? I guess most people wish to immediately have a name or concrete piece of information. Something to make it a lot easier to find the person you’re looking for. How do you do that, though, once you know? Just go up to someone and say, “Hi. I’m Blaine Anderson, Dalton Academy sophomore, recently turned sixteen years old, and I’m pretty sure I’m your soulmate.” What if he doesn’t believe it? How creepy would it sound, explaining what you saw to prove yourself? “I know we’re soulmates because two days ago, at 2:34pm, you used the toilet and then went back to band practice. Why didn’t you wash your hands?” God. What if he
“Warbler Blaine?”
runs away? Or doesn’t like me? Maybe it’s better to not have anything immediate to go by. Like a treasure hunt. You have one clue, one sign, which leads you something else and
“Blaine!”
on and on until you find him. That’s more romantic, right? But probably also more nerve-wracking.
“BLAINE.”
Blaine startles and looks up from his seat to find Wes standing over him. “What?”
Wes frowns before speaking. “Warbler Blaine, we’d like to run Teenage Dream one more time, if you think you can focus long enough.”
Crap. Blaine turns around to see the other Warblers in position to sing, before looking back at Wes. “Absolutely. I’m so sorry. Of course.” He stands quickly to join the others and take his position in the center of the group.
“Thank you, Blaine, and I’d appreciate it if you would stay after practice for a few minutes today. Okay! I’ll count us in.”
This could be bad. Blaine doubts he’s in any real trouble, but that doesn’t mean Wes won’t still give him a lecture.
* * * * * * * * *
148 hours until his appointment
What if my soulmate doesn’t want to be found? What if he’s a Dissenter? Would he get mad at me if I did still see something? Even Dissenters have to keep their eyes open sometimes, right? Like when they’re driving or taking a test or eating. Could you
“Blaine? Can we sit here?”
train yourself to eat with your eyes closed? How would that work? Would you only eat finger foods? If I tell people I’m a Dissenter, could I get away with only eating pizza and French fries?
“Um, Blaine? Are you okay, man?”
Blaine turns his glazed eyes upward to see two of his friends standing over him with concerned looks. “What? Yes? Oh, uh, hi. Hey Nick, hey Jeff. Did you guys need something?”
Nick waits a beat before slowly setting his cafeteria tray down at the seat opposite Blaine’s. “Jeff and I were just wondering if it would be okay for us to join you for lunch, but if it’s a problem -“
“No, no,” Blaine replies hurriedly, shaking his head. “You guys are welcome to join me anytime, you know that.” He grins before turning back to the chicken quesadilla on his plate. “Wait. Did one of you guys take my lunch? That’s not funny guys; I was going to eat that.”
Jeff smirks. “Judging by the crumbs on your lapel and the cheese on your lip, I’d say no one stole anything. Poor Blainey. So focused on his daydreaming that he didn’t even realize he finished his lunch.“ Blaine looks over at Nick, who is having trouble keeping his smile down. Both boys look far too amused at their friend’s expense.
“I take it back. You can’t sit here.”
* * * * * * * * *
100 hours until his appointment
It would be over-the-top, oh-so-cheesily romantic. Blaine would immediately recognize the surroundings. While he’d never been in a make-up trailer on a movie set before, it would be simple to figure out. And there, in the mirror,
“Mr. Anderson?”
would be his soulmate, Chris Pine. Or Zachary Quinto. Really, any of the men from the Star Trek reboot would be welcome. Then he’d get on the first plane to L.A. or NYC or Paris or
“Mr. Anderson, are you paying attention?”
Tokyo or wherever his soulmate is working. He’d show up, sneak onto the set, find him, and then they’d just know. They’d run to each other and
“Ow! What the…?” Blaine turns to Trent, his biology lab partner who just kicked him in the shin. “What was that for? That really hurt!”
“Mr. Anderson, if you have a moment?”
Blaine turns away from Trent to see his teacher, Dr. Doyle, standing over him. He shrinks back in his seat a little. “Uh. . . yes, sir?”
“I believe your classmate kicked you because you didn’t respond when I called your name,” Dr. Doyle says. He stares down at Blaine, judging, as if daydreaming in class was the worst thing anyone could possibly do. “Are you ill, Mr. Anderson? Is there a reason you aren’t paying attention in my class?”
For a brief moment, Blaine considers lying. He might be able to get away with faking sick; surely he’d been glassy-eyed when he was zoned out, right? But a Dalton man doesn’t lie. “No, sir. I’m not ill.”
“Please see me after class.” Dr. Doyle turns around, heading back to his desk to resume his lecture. Blaine groans quietly and hangs his head.
Trent leans in to whisper, “Sorry. I tried pinching you first, but you were kind of out of it.”
“Oh. That explains why my upper arm is burning a little.”
* * * * * * * * *
65 hours until his appointment
Blaine knocks on the door to David’s room and opens the door after a muffled “come in.” Inside he finds not only Wes and David, who are sitting on David’s bed, but other Warblers as well. Jeff, Nick, and Thad are spread out around the room. Blaine smiles as he closes the door behind himself. “Hey guys! I didn’t know everyone would be here! Are we doing movie night? Jeff isn’t allowed to pick again.”
“Wow. Rude and hurtful.”
“Sorry,” Blaine replies as he settles into a desk chair. “You can’t choose 17 Again every time and not expect consequences.”
“He’s amazing.”
“You know you’re the only one who watches that movie for Matthew Perry, right?”
“Matthew Perry is a comedic and dramatic genius who can overcome even the worst cinematic drivel.”
“Almost Heroes. The Whole Ten Yards.”
“Your arguments are invalid. Perry is God.”
“Serving Sara.”
Jeff sighs before leaning over to put his head on Nick’s shoulder. “. . . I just don’t understand why he would agree to do that movie. With Elizabeth Hurley, for crying out loud.”
“I think we’re getting off-topic a bit,” Wes says. “Especially since no one cares about anything you guys just said.”
“Rude and hurtful again.”
David jumps in. “Blaine, we need to talk. We’re all here because we think you’re getting a little too obsessed with the whole Soulmate Finder thing.”
“Wait, what?” Blaine sits up and looks around at the other guys in the room.
“Look, Blaine,” Jeff says, “we get it. But we think you might be a little too distracted with this.” He looks around at the others who are all nodding their heads. “You’ve been kind of out of it, man, and not just with us. Dr. Calderon called you out yesterday in geometry, and Trent said the same thing happened today in Dr. Doyle’s biology class.”
“I’m just excited about meeting my soulmate! And okay, yes, I’ve been distracted lately, but it’s all happening Saturday! It’s natural that I would be thinking about it. So thanks, really, for your concern, but I’m good.” Blaine pauses. “Right? Okay, are we good?”
Nick leans forward and clears his throat. “Blaine, what happens if you don’t learn who your soulmate is this week? What if he’s asleep and you don’t see anything? What happens if you do see something but can’t get any clues? Or what if you actually do meet him and he isn’t the dream man you’re concocting in your head?”
“I don’t -” Blaine takes a deep breath and shakes his head a little. “I don’t see what you’re getting at here. Okay, no, maybe things won’t turn out the way I’m hoping. But that doesn’t mean I can’t dream about it or think about it. What if I do meet him? He’s my soulmate, right? We’ll have to get along.”
Thad moves his chair over to be able to put his hand on Blaine’s shoulder and says quietly, “Blaine, you know it doesn’t always work that way.”
“But it could.”
“But it doesn’t always.” Thad pats Blaine’s shoulder a couple of times before moving his hand away. “In fact, it’s unusual for a first-timer to see everything they need to find their soulmate. I’m not saying you won’t. I’m just saying -“
“We’re just saying,” Wes interrupts.
“We’re just saying that you have this idealized fantasy of what’s going to happen. We don’t want you to be disappointed if it doesn’t work out.”
“I’m not!”
David looks at him shrewdly. “So you’re not daydreaming about how you’re going to find Zac Efron or Adam Lambert?”
“Please. I have standards.”
Every eye in the room is trained in his direction, giving him a skeptical look.
Blaine closes his eyes and quietly answers, “John Barrowman or Tommy Kirk.”
“Seriously?” Jeff starts to laugh but is cut off when Nick puts his hand over his mouth. He wiggles away to say, “John Barrowman has a partner and a family. I don’t think you have much of a chance there.”
“And who the hell is Tommy Kirk,” David asks.
Blaine draws himself up slightly as if to steel himself against a negative reaction. “He starred in several Disney movies back in the ‘50s and ‘60s, like Old Yeller and Swiss Family Robinson.”
David looks worried. “You think your soulmate is over the age of 70?”
“No, of course not! I just. . .,” Blaine stops to take a breath and remind himself that his friends aren’t really judging. They’re just misguided in their concern. “Whenever I think about my soulmate, like really think about him and not some celebrity stand-in, he’s tallish with brown hair and a slim build, like Tommy Kirk. And Tommy Kirk was cute and a good actor and shut up.”
“Wait.” Nick looks up thoughtfully at the ceiling with his mouth slightly open, trying to place the actor. “Was he the older brother or the middle brother in Swiss Family Robinson?”
“Middle.”
“Oh. Hm. Yeah, I see it. Whatever happened to him?”
“Walt Disney fired him for being gay.”
Jeff’s mouth drops open. “Really? Did Disney the company or Disney the man fire him?
“Both, I guess, but Disney the man. Turns out that in addition to being a creative genius Walt Disney was also a homophobe.” Blaine shrugs. “It was a different time.”
The truth is that Blaine really did have a crush on Tommy Kirk when he was in middle school. In fact, that crush was the first thing that made him start to question his sexuality. A few short Google searches later, and Blaine learned the actor had very a sad history that included being fired for his homosexuality, a subsequent drug problem, and a string of really bad B movies. Blaine’s pretty sure that reading about it set his coming out back by at least six months.
“Well, there goes my theory that Bert the chimney sweep was gay.”
“Jeff,” Nick replies, “I don’t even know how to respond to that.”
“Like Mary Poppins isn’t the ultimate hag.”
Wes stands up, gives Jeff a glance that clearly says what is wrong with you, and tries to regain control. “Holy God, we need to get back to the topic at hand.”
“Which was?”
“Blaine has deluded himself into thinking that Friday he’ll find out that a former Disney child star from 50 years ago is his soulmate.”
“Or maybe the cast of Inception,” Blaine interjects softly.
Wes raises his voice a little. “And when that doesn’t happen, he will be a tragic shell of his former self.”
Blaine huffs and crosses his arms. There’s no need for Wes to be overly dramatic.
Wes walks over to kneel next to Blaine’s chair. “Have you thought about what happens if something goes wrong? Forget not being able to see enough information to find him, what if you see something you don’t want to? Or something you don’t like but can’t change? How will you handle it if the person is being bullied and you can’t stop it?” Blaine inhales sharply. “Or committing a crime? Or doing drugs?”
Blaine rolls his eyes. Really, this is getting to be too much. “Okay, I understand caution, but those last two are highly unlikely. Do you really think my soulmate would be a criminal?”
“I think anyone can do something they aren’t proud of,” Thad says.
“And what if it’s something else?” Nick leans forward to rest his elbows on his crossed legs. “You know Jim in our English class?” Blaine nods. “He told me his cousin saw his soulmate having sex with someone else.”
Blaine gapes. “That’s not true, is it? That’s . . . but . . . why?” God, how do you see something like that and get over it?
Nick smiles sadly. “Things happen. Look, we’re not saying any of this will happen. Hopefully you’ll get the fairy tale you want and everything will be great. We just want you to bring your expectations down a notch or two so you aren’t devastated if things don’t work out perfectly.”
“And it isn’t just you, is it?” David asks. “You’re also doing a disservice to your soulmate. How is he supposed to measure up to some idealized version you have in your head? Is that really fair?”
“Okay, guys, I get it. Really,” Blaine says, slowly turning to look at all of them. “If I promise to think about it, can we please move on? I’m starting to feel slightly dead-horse-ish.”
Wes looks at him for a few more seconds before getting up to go back to his place on the bed. “Fine. But remember we’re here for you, and we care about you.” Blaine smiles and nods.
“Okay,” Thad says, “I’m thinking that now we really do need a movie night, and I want to see Blaine’s Disney boyfriend in his prime.” Everyone chuckles. “Does anyone have a copy of Swiss Family Robinson?” All heads turn to Blaine.
Ducking his head to try to hide his creeping blush, Blaine stands up and walks to the door. “Yeah, okay, whatever. I’ll be right back.” He pauses and turns around before he stepping into the hallway. “Thanks, guys.”
* * * * * * * * *
8 hours until his appointment
Blaine has been thinking about what his friends said, but it only serves to worry him even more - so much so that he hasn’t been able to sleep much the last couple of nights. But today is the day, his appointment is at 2:30 this afternoon, and he should know something soon.
Fortunately, due to the ridiculously high demand for Finder services, many clinics are open six days a week. Blaine had been lucky to get a Saturday appointment so he won’t have to miss class. As he lies in bed, he plans his afternoon. His appointment is at 2:30pm, and according to Google maps it should take him about an hour and 45 minutes to drive from Dalton to the Motta clinic. He’s been to the clinic once before, a month ago for his pre-appointment, and he doesn’t remember there being a problem with the timing. To be safe, he should probably give himself an extra half hour or so, in case he gets lost or runs into traffic. He’ll leave just after 12:00pm. Blaine nods to himself. Good plan.
Blaine goes about his morning, anxious and jittery. At brunch he’s a bundle of nerves. By 11:00am he is in his car, pulling out of the Dalton parking lot.
* * * * * * * * *
It only takes him an hour and a half to make the drive. (Although maybe that was a little his fault for driving a little over the speed limit.) Well, he’s here now. Maybe the Motta clinic can see him early, Blaine wonders as he gets out of the car. Yes, they’ll probably be able to see him early. Good plan.
* * * * * * * * *
Stupid receptionist at the stupid clinic. “We have appointment times for a reason. We cannot accommodate you any earlier.” Blah blah blah. Fine. It’s 12:45pm. He can find something to do for an hour and a half, then come back and be pleasantly on time. Blaine picks up his phone to find a restaurant or coffee shop nearby where he can grab something to drink and relax a little, and if he presses the buttons on his phone a little too vigorously, well, fine. There. Only four blocks away is a place called The Lima Bean that has pretty decent reviews on Yelp.
* * * * * * * * *
The coffee shop is, well, a coffee shop. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing exciting. Blaine studies the menu as he waits in line. While normally he’s a coffee drinker, he decides that maybe caffeine isn’t a good plan if he’s already sort of on the anxious side. (Sort of??) Decaf chamomile tea should help calm him down. And maybe a scone. Or two. Just to support local business, of course.
After grabbing his order and a newspaper (since when did coffee shops in the middle of Nowhere, Ohio, carry The New York Times?) Blaine settles into an overstuffed chair near one corner of the room. Setting a vibrating alarm on his phone for 2:10pm so that he won’t accidentally stay too long, Blaine takes in the other patrons for a second. There are two tables with older women gossiping; based on the snippets of conversation he hears, it sounds like Lisa, Dorothy’s divorced daughter, was seen at a restaurant with that nice doctor whose wife just died last year, and isn’t that too soon? Blaine grins a little. Get it, Lisa! Another table with a retired couple sits in silence not talking to each other. A few college students with laptops and giant coffees. Huh. Blaine is out of his Dalton uniform, sipping tea in the middle of the afternoon. Maybe someone will mistake him for a college student. He likes that idea.
Blaine burrows down into the chair with his tea and scones and newspaper and gives himself an ultimatum. For a little over an hour he will sit here and read the paper and very definitely not think about soulmates or clinics or procedures or magical happily ever afters. Definitely not.
He’ll put in a good effort not to, at least.
Just over hour later, halfway through a lengthy and interesting theatre review, Blaine finds himself with a cheerleader in his lap. Literally. Blaine sits up a little, trying not to dump the girl on the floor. “Um, hi?”
“Hey there, prep school. Name’s Santana.” She curls her arm around Blaine’s neck and starts stroking his hairline with her thumb. Blaine briefly wonders how she knows he goes to private school, then remembers he’s wearing a Dalton polo. “You’re cute, and you’re reading, which is already an improvement over most of the loser population around here.” She leans in closer, and Blaine’s eyes get a little bit wider. “How ‘bouts you take me and my girl Brittany over there,” she points to a perky blond cheerleader sitting a couple of tables over; the girl waves, “out to the Stix tonight?”
“I, I, I…” he swallows, nervously. “I’m sorry, and you’re lovely, but I can’t.”
The cheerleader, Santana, raises an eyebrow and looks down at him with contempt. “Why the hell not? With those clothes and that watch, you’ve obviously got the money for it.”
Normally Blaine wouldn’t hesitate to tell someone he’s gay. He came out of the closet a while ago, and he’s out and proud and all that. But he is currently alone in a coffee shop in the middle of small town Ohio. Looking back over at the table where her friend Brittany is sitting, Blaine sees several large guys wearing letterman jackets. That guy with the mohawk, for example, looks a little terrifying. So Blaine tells a different truth.
“I’m not from Lima, and I’m only in town for a couple of hours. I have to be back home this evening. In fact,” he pauses as he takes out his vibrating phone, “there’s my phone alarm to tell me it’s time to leave.” He tries to shift forward to give Santana the hint to move, but she stays put for a few seconds longer.
“Fine. But here’s my phone number.” She pulls a pen out of her bra and grabs his hand to write down the number. “Next time you’re in town I expect a call.” She smiles, or rather leers, as she stands up and sashays over to her table.
Blaine looks down to gather his stuff but overhears when someone else at the table loudly says, “Santana, you can’t just accost guys in a public place like that! What if -“
Out of the corner of his eye, Blaine notices the girl speaking, a slightly smaller but definitely louder brunette, as she’s cut off. “Shut it, hobbit. Go back to staring creepily at the Flabby Green Giant over there.”
“Hey!” Blaine can’t see who was offended, but it’s a male voice.
“Call me a magical sitar player, ‘cuz I only speaks the truth.”
Blaine stands up and hurries toward the door without looking over at Santana and her friends. “Bye mini heartthrob! Call me next time you’re in town!” Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look, Blaine chants to himself. Crap. Blaine glances over his shoulder to see Santana flipping her fingers in a wave as the rest of her friends at their tables look on. The friends look more eclectic than he’d originally thought. Yes there are cheerleaders and jocks but other non-popular types there, too. Huh.
No. This isn’t the time for analyzing sociological constructs. Now is the time to get away from scary cheerleaders so as not to be late for life-changing appointments. Blaine turns back to the door. As he starts for the exit again he hears the brunette say (loudly), “Well, we can’t start until everyone is here. Where are Kurt and Mercedes?”
Another female voice responds as Blaine pulls open the door, “Kurt was slushied on the way out of school after our practice. I guess some of the football players were there using the weight room or something. He said they were going to stop at his house for a minute so he could change clothes, and then they’d be here.”
Slushied? Is that what it sounds like? And even if it isn’t, if you have to change clothes afterward, that can’t be good.
Seriously. Never. Going. Back. To. Public. School. Ever. Again.
* * * * * * * * *
Blaine pulls up again outside the Motta clinic and parks in a spot close to the entrance. As he shuts off his car, he realizes his hands are shaking.
Yes, this is big, but it’s no reason to come apart. Just get out of the car and walk inside. Just get out of the car . . . out of the car. Why isn’t his body responding? Oh, God. What if his soulmate is asleep? What if his soulmate is having sex with someone else, and thanks Nick, for that thought. What if his soulmate is holding up a sign that says, “Leave me alone, I don’t want you.” What if -
His phone is ringing. Blaine looks down to see Wes’ face looking back at him from the phone’s screen. He can answer a phone. Answering a phone isn’t scary.
“Hello?”
“Hi, buddy. How’re you doing?”
“What does a panic attack feel like? Is this a panic attack?” Blaine’s voice gets steadily higher as he continues to talk, but he can’t help it. “I can’t catch my breath and my chest feels like that time when Jeff was sitting on me so I wouldn’t get the last lemon-filled donut and my vision is a little bit blurry and my arms won’t move to open the car door and a scary cheerleader hit on me at the coffee shop and my appointment is in ten minutes and what if I have to sit here indefinitely? Will you bring me food?” By the end, Blaine’s voice has gone up almost a full octave and a half. “Please bring me food, Wes, I don’t want to starve here.”
“Blaine. Calm down. You can breathe; you obviously haven’t passed out yet. Take a deep breath with me slowly. Breathe in.” Blaine hears Wes inhale and does the same thing. “Now exhale, slowly.” Together they breathe out. “Good. Again. Inhale.” Breathe in. “And exhale.” Breathe out.
“Thanks Wes. That feels a little better.”
“Good. Now, are you holding your phone in your hand?”
“Uh, yes?”
“Excellent,” Wes replies. “Obviously you had to be able to pick up your phone to answer it, so I’m going to assume your arms still work. Let’s open that car door together, shall we?”
Blaine stares at the handle for a few seconds before opening the door. “It’s open. Okay, it’s open. This is good.”
“Calm. Blaine, calm. Now, do you have everything you need? Wallet? Two forms of picture identification? Government voucher?”
“This one is private pay. My parents have already taken care of that.”
“Oh. Okay. Are you out of the car?”
“Yes, I’m out of the car. I’ve locked the car. I’m walking toward the door.”
“You’re doing great, Blaine. Remember that no matter what happens, we’re here for you.”
“Thanks, Wes.” Blaine stops outside the clinic entrance and shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t expect to have a breakdown over this. Maybe I should have taken you up on your offer to come with me.”
“Not a big deal. Same thing happens to lots of people. Don’t tell anyone I told you, but I did the same thing for David when he went last year, except he was crying.”
There’s a muffled, “hey!” through the phone. Blaine smiles and asks, “Is that David? Is he there with you?”
Wes is obviously trying not to laugh when he responds. “Yeah, Blaine, I’m here with David, Jeff, Nick, and Thad. Let me switch to speakerphone.” There’s a moment of silence before he hears Wes again, this time from a little further away. “We just wanted you to know we’re only a phone call away. Whatever happens, good or bad, we’re here.”
God, he’s lucky. Blaine tilts his head back and looks up to keep himself from crying. “You know, if you guys did this for David last year, I understand why he bawled like the emotional toddler he is.”
“I want to make it very clear that I did not cry. I did not bawl. But I am getting new friends.”
Blaine hears laughter on the other end of the phone. “Guys, I need to get inside. Thank you so much for calling. I’ll let you know what happens.”
Wes answers, “Okay, but Blaine, if you don’t want to talk afterward and need some time to process, that’s fine, too. We’ll be in David’s room -“
“If I don’t throw you all out!”
“- when you get back. Good luck.”
“Thanks.” Blaine ends the call and drops his phone in his pocket. He can do this. He takes a deep breath as he opens the door.
Part 2
Spoilers: Through Season 2
Word Count: ~3500 (this part)
Disclaimer: Recognize it? It ain't mine.
Summary: SoulmateAU. Story begins just prior to NBK. Blaine goes through a procedure to find his soulmate. The results aren't quite what he was expecting.
A/N: Parts of this story have been in my head for months. I don't generally write, at all really, but this wouldn't go away. Technically this is a WIP, though the story is completely written and just needs some major editing. Obviously some of the so-called science is fiction. Thanks for reading.
Prologue
193 hours until his appointment
What am I hoping for? Best-case scenario? I guess most people wish to immediately have a name or concrete piece of information. Something to make it a lot easier to find the person you’re looking for. How do you do that, though, once you know? Just go up to someone and say, “Hi. I’m Blaine Anderson, Dalton Academy sophomore, recently turned sixteen years old, and I’m pretty sure I’m your soulmate.” What if he doesn’t believe it? How creepy would it sound, explaining what you saw to prove yourself? “I know we’re soulmates because two days ago, at 2:34pm, you used the toilet and then went back to band practice. Why didn’t you wash your hands?” God. What if he
“Warbler Blaine?”
runs away? Or doesn’t like me? Maybe it’s better to not have anything immediate to go by. Like a treasure hunt. You have one clue, one sign, which leads you something else and
“Blaine!”
on and on until you find him. That’s more romantic, right? But probably also more nerve-wracking.
“BLAINE.”
Blaine startles and looks up from his seat to find Wes standing over him. “What?”
Wes frowns before speaking. “Warbler Blaine, we’d like to run Teenage Dream one more time, if you think you can focus long enough.”
Crap. Blaine turns around to see the other Warblers in position to sing, before looking back at Wes. “Absolutely. I’m so sorry. Of course.” He stands quickly to join the others and take his position in the center of the group.
“Thank you, Blaine, and I’d appreciate it if you would stay after practice for a few minutes today. Okay! I’ll count us in.”
This could be bad. Blaine doubts he’s in any real trouble, but that doesn’t mean Wes won’t still give him a lecture.
* * * * * * * * *
148 hours until his appointment
What if my soulmate doesn’t want to be found? What if he’s a Dissenter? Would he get mad at me if I did still see something? Even Dissenters have to keep their eyes open sometimes, right? Like when they’re driving or taking a test or eating. Could you
“Blaine? Can we sit here?”
train yourself to eat with your eyes closed? How would that work? Would you only eat finger foods? If I tell people I’m a Dissenter, could I get away with only eating pizza and French fries?
“Um, Blaine? Are you okay, man?”
Blaine turns his glazed eyes upward to see two of his friends standing over him with concerned looks. “What? Yes? Oh, uh, hi. Hey Nick, hey Jeff. Did you guys need something?”
Nick waits a beat before slowly setting his cafeteria tray down at the seat opposite Blaine’s. “Jeff and I were just wondering if it would be okay for us to join you for lunch, but if it’s a problem -“
“No, no,” Blaine replies hurriedly, shaking his head. “You guys are welcome to join me anytime, you know that.” He grins before turning back to the chicken quesadilla on his plate. “Wait. Did one of you guys take my lunch? That’s not funny guys; I was going to eat that.”
Jeff smirks. “Judging by the crumbs on your lapel and the cheese on your lip, I’d say no one stole anything. Poor Blainey. So focused on his daydreaming that he didn’t even realize he finished his lunch.“ Blaine looks over at Nick, who is having trouble keeping his smile down. Both boys look far too amused at their friend’s expense.
“I take it back. You can’t sit here.”
* * * * * * * * *
100 hours until his appointment
It would be over-the-top, oh-so-cheesily romantic. Blaine would immediately recognize the surroundings. While he’d never been in a make-up trailer on a movie set before, it would be simple to figure out. And there, in the mirror,
“Mr. Anderson?”
would be his soulmate, Chris Pine. Or Zachary Quinto. Really, any of the men from the Star Trek reboot would be welcome. Then he’d get on the first plane to L.A. or NYC or Paris or
“Mr. Anderson, are you paying attention?”
Tokyo or wherever his soulmate is working. He’d show up, sneak onto the set, find him, and then they’d just know. They’d run to each other and
“Ow! What the…?” Blaine turns to Trent, his biology lab partner who just kicked him in the shin. “What was that for? That really hurt!”
“Mr. Anderson, if you have a moment?”
Blaine turns away from Trent to see his teacher, Dr. Doyle, standing over him. He shrinks back in his seat a little. “Uh. . . yes, sir?”
“I believe your classmate kicked you because you didn’t respond when I called your name,” Dr. Doyle says. He stares down at Blaine, judging, as if daydreaming in class was the worst thing anyone could possibly do. “Are you ill, Mr. Anderson? Is there a reason you aren’t paying attention in my class?”
For a brief moment, Blaine considers lying. He might be able to get away with faking sick; surely he’d been glassy-eyed when he was zoned out, right? But a Dalton man doesn’t lie. “No, sir. I’m not ill.”
“Please see me after class.” Dr. Doyle turns around, heading back to his desk to resume his lecture. Blaine groans quietly and hangs his head.
Trent leans in to whisper, “Sorry. I tried pinching you first, but you were kind of out of it.”
“Oh. That explains why my upper arm is burning a little.”
* * * * * * * * *
65 hours until his appointment
Blaine knocks on the door to David’s room and opens the door after a muffled “come in.” Inside he finds not only Wes and David, who are sitting on David’s bed, but other Warblers as well. Jeff, Nick, and Thad are spread out around the room. Blaine smiles as he closes the door behind himself. “Hey guys! I didn’t know everyone would be here! Are we doing movie night? Jeff isn’t allowed to pick again.”
“Wow. Rude and hurtful.”
“Sorry,” Blaine replies as he settles into a desk chair. “You can’t choose 17 Again every time and not expect consequences.”
“He’s amazing.”
“You know you’re the only one who watches that movie for Matthew Perry, right?”
“Matthew Perry is a comedic and dramatic genius who can overcome even the worst cinematic drivel.”
“Almost Heroes. The Whole Ten Yards.”
“Your arguments are invalid. Perry is God.”
“Serving Sara.”
Jeff sighs before leaning over to put his head on Nick’s shoulder. “. . . I just don’t understand why he would agree to do that movie. With Elizabeth Hurley, for crying out loud.”
“I think we’re getting off-topic a bit,” Wes says. “Especially since no one cares about anything you guys just said.”
“Rude and hurtful again.”
David jumps in. “Blaine, we need to talk. We’re all here because we think you’re getting a little too obsessed with the whole Soulmate Finder thing.”
“Wait, what?” Blaine sits up and looks around at the other guys in the room.
“Look, Blaine,” Jeff says, “we get it. But we think you might be a little too distracted with this.” He looks around at the others who are all nodding their heads. “You’ve been kind of out of it, man, and not just with us. Dr. Calderon called you out yesterday in geometry, and Trent said the same thing happened today in Dr. Doyle’s biology class.”
“I’m just excited about meeting my soulmate! And okay, yes, I’ve been distracted lately, but it’s all happening Saturday! It’s natural that I would be thinking about it. So thanks, really, for your concern, but I’m good.” Blaine pauses. “Right? Okay, are we good?”
Nick leans forward and clears his throat. “Blaine, what happens if you don’t learn who your soulmate is this week? What if he’s asleep and you don’t see anything? What happens if you do see something but can’t get any clues? Or what if you actually do meet him and he isn’t the dream man you’re concocting in your head?”
“I don’t -” Blaine takes a deep breath and shakes his head a little. “I don’t see what you’re getting at here. Okay, no, maybe things won’t turn out the way I’m hoping. But that doesn’t mean I can’t dream about it or think about it. What if I do meet him? He’s my soulmate, right? We’ll have to get along.”
Thad moves his chair over to be able to put his hand on Blaine’s shoulder and says quietly, “Blaine, you know it doesn’t always work that way.”
“But it could.”
“But it doesn’t always.” Thad pats Blaine’s shoulder a couple of times before moving his hand away. “In fact, it’s unusual for a first-timer to see everything they need to find their soulmate. I’m not saying you won’t. I’m just saying -“
“We’re just saying,” Wes interrupts.
“We’re just saying that you have this idealized fantasy of what’s going to happen. We don’t want you to be disappointed if it doesn’t work out.”
“I’m not!”
David looks at him shrewdly. “So you’re not daydreaming about how you’re going to find Zac Efron or Adam Lambert?”
“Please. I have standards.”
Every eye in the room is trained in his direction, giving him a skeptical look.
Blaine closes his eyes and quietly answers, “John Barrowman or Tommy Kirk.”
“Seriously?” Jeff starts to laugh but is cut off when Nick puts his hand over his mouth. He wiggles away to say, “John Barrowman has a partner and a family. I don’t think you have much of a chance there.”
“And who the hell is Tommy Kirk,” David asks.
Blaine draws himself up slightly as if to steel himself against a negative reaction. “He starred in several Disney movies back in the ‘50s and ‘60s, like Old Yeller and Swiss Family Robinson.”
David looks worried. “You think your soulmate is over the age of 70?”
“No, of course not! I just. . .,” Blaine stops to take a breath and remind himself that his friends aren’t really judging. They’re just misguided in their concern. “Whenever I think about my soulmate, like really think about him and not some celebrity stand-in, he’s tallish with brown hair and a slim build, like Tommy Kirk. And Tommy Kirk was cute and a good actor and shut up.”
“Wait.” Nick looks up thoughtfully at the ceiling with his mouth slightly open, trying to place the actor. “Was he the older brother or the middle brother in Swiss Family Robinson?”
“Middle.”
“Oh. Hm. Yeah, I see it. Whatever happened to him?”
“Walt Disney fired him for being gay.”
Jeff’s mouth drops open. “Really? Did Disney the company or Disney the man fire him?
“Both, I guess, but Disney the man. Turns out that in addition to being a creative genius Walt Disney was also a homophobe.” Blaine shrugs. “It was a different time.”
The truth is that Blaine really did have a crush on Tommy Kirk when he was in middle school. In fact, that crush was the first thing that made him start to question his sexuality. A few short Google searches later, and Blaine learned the actor had very a sad history that included being fired for his homosexuality, a subsequent drug problem, and a string of really bad B movies. Blaine’s pretty sure that reading about it set his coming out back by at least six months.
“Well, there goes my theory that Bert the chimney sweep was gay.”
“Jeff,” Nick replies, “I don’t even know how to respond to that.”
“Like Mary Poppins isn’t the ultimate hag.”
Wes stands up, gives Jeff a glance that clearly says what is wrong with you, and tries to regain control. “Holy God, we need to get back to the topic at hand.”
“Which was?”
“Blaine has deluded himself into thinking that Friday he’ll find out that a former Disney child star from 50 years ago is his soulmate.”
“Or maybe the cast of Inception,” Blaine interjects softly.
Wes raises his voice a little. “And when that doesn’t happen, he will be a tragic shell of his former self.”
Blaine huffs and crosses his arms. There’s no need for Wes to be overly dramatic.
Wes walks over to kneel next to Blaine’s chair. “Have you thought about what happens if something goes wrong? Forget not being able to see enough information to find him, what if you see something you don’t want to? Or something you don’t like but can’t change? How will you handle it if the person is being bullied and you can’t stop it?” Blaine inhales sharply. “Or committing a crime? Or doing drugs?”
Blaine rolls his eyes. Really, this is getting to be too much. “Okay, I understand caution, but those last two are highly unlikely. Do you really think my soulmate would be a criminal?”
“I think anyone can do something they aren’t proud of,” Thad says.
“And what if it’s something else?” Nick leans forward to rest his elbows on his crossed legs. “You know Jim in our English class?” Blaine nods. “He told me his cousin saw his soulmate having sex with someone else.”
Blaine gapes. “That’s not true, is it? That’s . . . but . . . why?” God, how do you see something like that and get over it?
Nick smiles sadly. “Things happen. Look, we’re not saying any of this will happen. Hopefully you’ll get the fairy tale you want and everything will be great. We just want you to bring your expectations down a notch or two so you aren’t devastated if things don’t work out perfectly.”
“And it isn’t just you, is it?” David asks. “You’re also doing a disservice to your soulmate. How is he supposed to measure up to some idealized version you have in your head? Is that really fair?”
“Okay, guys, I get it. Really,” Blaine says, slowly turning to look at all of them. “If I promise to think about it, can we please move on? I’m starting to feel slightly dead-horse-ish.”
Wes looks at him for a few more seconds before getting up to go back to his place on the bed. “Fine. But remember we’re here for you, and we care about you.” Blaine smiles and nods.
“Okay,” Thad says, “I’m thinking that now we really do need a movie night, and I want to see Blaine’s Disney boyfriend in his prime.” Everyone chuckles. “Does anyone have a copy of Swiss Family Robinson?” All heads turn to Blaine.
Ducking his head to try to hide his creeping blush, Blaine stands up and walks to the door. “Yeah, okay, whatever. I’ll be right back.” He pauses and turns around before he stepping into the hallway. “Thanks, guys.”
* * * * * * * * *
8 hours until his appointment
Blaine has been thinking about what his friends said, but it only serves to worry him even more - so much so that he hasn’t been able to sleep much the last couple of nights. But today is the day, his appointment is at 2:30 this afternoon, and he should know something soon.
Fortunately, due to the ridiculously high demand for Finder services, many clinics are open six days a week. Blaine had been lucky to get a Saturday appointment so he won’t have to miss class. As he lies in bed, he plans his afternoon. His appointment is at 2:30pm, and according to Google maps it should take him about an hour and 45 minutes to drive from Dalton to the Motta clinic. He’s been to the clinic once before, a month ago for his pre-appointment, and he doesn’t remember there being a problem with the timing. To be safe, he should probably give himself an extra half hour or so, in case he gets lost or runs into traffic. He’ll leave just after 12:00pm. Blaine nods to himself. Good plan.
Blaine goes about his morning, anxious and jittery. At brunch he’s a bundle of nerves. By 11:00am he is in his car, pulling out of the Dalton parking lot.
* * * * * * * * *
It only takes him an hour and a half to make the drive. (Although maybe that was a little his fault for driving a little over the speed limit.) Well, he’s here now. Maybe the Motta clinic can see him early, Blaine wonders as he gets out of the car. Yes, they’ll probably be able to see him early. Good plan.
* * * * * * * * *
Stupid receptionist at the stupid clinic. “We have appointment times for a reason. We cannot accommodate you any earlier.” Blah blah blah. Fine. It’s 12:45pm. He can find something to do for an hour and a half, then come back and be pleasantly on time. Blaine picks up his phone to find a restaurant or coffee shop nearby where he can grab something to drink and relax a little, and if he presses the buttons on his phone a little too vigorously, well, fine. There. Only four blocks away is a place called The Lima Bean that has pretty decent reviews on Yelp.
* * * * * * * * *
The coffee shop is, well, a coffee shop. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing exciting. Blaine studies the menu as he waits in line. While normally he’s a coffee drinker, he decides that maybe caffeine isn’t a good plan if he’s already sort of on the anxious side. (Sort of??) Decaf chamomile tea should help calm him down. And maybe a scone. Or two. Just to support local business, of course.
After grabbing his order and a newspaper (since when did coffee shops in the middle of Nowhere, Ohio, carry The New York Times?) Blaine settles into an overstuffed chair near one corner of the room. Setting a vibrating alarm on his phone for 2:10pm so that he won’t accidentally stay too long, Blaine takes in the other patrons for a second. There are two tables with older women gossiping; based on the snippets of conversation he hears, it sounds like Lisa, Dorothy’s divorced daughter, was seen at a restaurant with that nice doctor whose wife just died last year, and isn’t that too soon? Blaine grins a little. Get it, Lisa! Another table with a retired couple sits in silence not talking to each other. A few college students with laptops and giant coffees. Huh. Blaine is out of his Dalton uniform, sipping tea in the middle of the afternoon. Maybe someone will mistake him for a college student. He likes that idea.
Blaine burrows down into the chair with his tea and scones and newspaper and gives himself an ultimatum. For a little over an hour he will sit here and read the paper and very definitely not think about soulmates or clinics or procedures or magical happily ever afters. Definitely not.
He’ll put in a good effort not to, at least.
Just over hour later, halfway through a lengthy and interesting theatre review, Blaine finds himself with a cheerleader in his lap. Literally. Blaine sits up a little, trying not to dump the girl on the floor. “Um, hi?”
“Hey there, prep school. Name’s Santana.” She curls her arm around Blaine’s neck and starts stroking his hairline with her thumb. Blaine briefly wonders how she knows he goes to private school, then remembers he’s wearing a Dalton polo. “You’re cute, and you’re reading, which is already an improvement over most of the loser population around here.” She leans in closer, and Blaine’s eyes get a little bit wider. “How ‘bouts you take me and my girl Brittany over there,” she points to a perky blond cheerleader sitting a couple of tables over; the girl waves, “out to the Stix tonight?”
“I, I, I…” he swallows, nervously. “I’m sorry, and you’re lovely, but I can’t.”
The cheerleader, Santana, raises an eyebrow and looks down at him with contempt. “Why the hell not? With those clothes and that watch, you’ve obviously got the money for it.”
Normally Blaine wouldn’t hesitate to tell someone he’s gay. He came out of the closet a while ago, and he’s out and proud and all that. But he is currently alone in a coffee shop in the middle of small town Ohio. Looking back over at the table where her friend Brittany is sitting, Blaine sees several large guys wearing letterman jackets. That guy with the mohawk, for example, looks a little terrifying. So Blaine tells a different truth.
“I’m not from Lima, and I’m only in town for a couple of hours. I have to be back home this evening. In fact,” he pauses as he takes out his vibrating phone, “there’s my phone alarm to tell me it’s time to leave.” He tries to shift forward to give Santana the hint to move, but she stays put for a few seconds longer.
“Fine. But here’s my phone number.” She pulls a pen out of her bra and grabs his hand to write down the number. “Next time you’re in town I expect a call.” She smiles, or rather leers, as she stands up and sashays over to her table.
Blaine looks down to gather his stuff but overhears when someone else at the table loudly says, “Santana, you can’t just accost guys in a public place like that! What if -“
Out of the corner of his eye, Blaine notices the girl speaking, a slightly smaller but definitely louder brunette, as she’s cut off. “Shut it, hobbit. Go back to staring creepily at the Flabby Green Giant over there.”
“Hey!” Blaine can’t see who was offended, but it’s a male voice.
“Call me a magical sitar player, ‘cuz I only speaks the truth.”
Blaine stands up and hurries toward the door without looking over at Santana and her friends. “Bye mini heartthrob! Call me next time you’re in town!” Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look, Blaine chants to himself. Crap. Blaine glances over his shoulder to see Santana flipping her fingers in a wave as the rest of her friends at their tables look on. The friends look more eclectic than he’d originally thought. Yes there are cheerleaders and jocks but other non-popular types there, too. Huh.
No. This isn’t the time for analyzing sociological constructs. Now is the time to get away from scary cheerleaders so as not to be late for life-changing appointments. Blaine turns back to the door. As he starts for the exit again he hears the brunette say (loudly), “Well, we can’t start until everyone is here. Where are Kurt and Mercedes?”
Another female voice responds as Blaine pulls open the door, “Kurt was slushied on the way out of school after our practice. I guess some of the football players were there using the weight room or something. He said they were going to stop at his house for a minute so he could change clothes, and then they’d be here.”
Slushied? Is that what it sounds like? And even if it isn’t, if you have to change clothes afterward, that can’t be good.
Seriously. Never. Going. Back. To. Public. School. Ever. Again.
* * * * * * * * *
Blaine pulls up again outside the Motta clinic and parks in a spot close to the entrance. As he shuts off his car, he realizes his hands are shaking.
Yes, this is big, but it’s no reason to come apart. Just get out of the car and walk inside. Just get out of the car . . . out of the car. Why isn’t his body responding? Oh, God. What if his soulmate is asleep? What if his soulmate is having sex with someone else, and thanks Nick, for that thought. What if his soulmate is holding up a sign that says, “Leave me alone, I don’t want you.” What if -
His phone is ringing. Blaine looks down to see Wes’ face looking back at him from the phone’s screen. He can answer a phone. Answering a phone isn’t scary.
“Hello?”
“Hi, buddy. How’re you doing?”
“What does a panic attack feel like? Is this a panic attack?” Blaine’s voice gets steadily higher as he continues to talk, but he can’t help it. “I can’t catch my breath and my chest feels like that time when Jeff was sitting on me so I wouldn’t get the last lemon-filled donut and my vision is a little bit blurry and my arms won’t move to open the car door and a scary cheerleader hit on me at the coffee shop and my appointment is in ten minutes and what if I have to sit here indefinitely? Will you bring me food?” By the end, Blaine’s voice has gone up almost a full octave and a half. “Please bring me food, Wes, I don’t want to starve here.”
“Blaine. Calm down. You can breathe; you obviously haven’t passed out yet. Take a deep breath with me slowly. Breathe in.” Blaine hears Wes inhale and does the same thing. “Now exhale, slowly.” Together they breathe out. “Good. Again. Inhale.” Breathe in. “And exhale.” Breathe out.
“Thanks Wes. That feels a little better.”
“Good. Now, are you holding your phone in your hand?”
“Uh, yes?”
“Excellent,” Wes replies. “Obviously you had to be able to pick up your phone to answer it, so I’m going to assume your arms still work. Let’s open that car door together, shall we?”
Blaine stares at the handle for a few seconds before opening the door. “It’s open. Okay, it’s open. This is good.”
“Calm. Blaine, calm. Now, do you have everything you need? Wallet? Two forms of picture identification? Government voucher?”
“This one is private pay. My parents have already taken care of that.”
“Oh. Okay. Are you out of the car?”
“Yes, I’m out of the car. I’ve locked the car. I’m walking toward the door.”
“You’re doing great, Blaine. Remember that no matter what happens, we’re here for you.”
“Thanks, Wes.” Blaine stops outside the clinic entrance and shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t expect to have a breakdown over this. Maybe I should have taken you up on your offer to come with me.”
“Not a big deal. Same thing happens to lots of people. Don’t tell anyone I told you, but I did the same thing for David when he went last year, except he was crying.”
There’s a muffled, “hey!” through the phone. Blaine smiles and asks, “Is that David? Is he there with you?”
Wes is obviously trying not to laugh when he responds. “Yeah, Blaine, I’m here with David, Jeff, Nick, and Thad. Let me switch to speakerphone.” There’s a moment of silence before he hears Wes again, this time from a little further away. “We just wanted you to know we’re only a phone call away. Whatever happens, good or bad, we’re here.”
God, he’s lucky. Blaine tilts his head back and looks up to keep himself from crying. “You know, if you guys did this for David last year, I understand why he bawled like the emotional toddler he is.”
“I want to make it very clear that I did not cry. I did not bawl. But I am getting new friends.”
Blaine hears laughter on the other end of the phone. “Guys, I need to get inside. Thank you so much for calling. I’ll let you know what happens.”
Wes answers, “Okay, but Blaine, if you don’t want to talk afterward and need some time to process, that’s fine, too. We’ll be in David’s room -“
“If I don’t throw you all out!”
“- when you get back. Good luck.”
“Thanks.” Blaine ends the call and drops his phone in his pocket. He can do this. He takes a deep breath as he opens the door.
Part 2