January 2008.

Blaine was just coming out of the bathroom when his friend Christopher stopped him in the hallway of the theater to congratulate him.

         “I’m proud of you, Anderson” Christopher said smiling politely.

         “Thank you so much. Did you enjoy the show?”

         “Of course I did. You know, I didn’t take Wayne’s word, because he’s the one to talk” Blaine laughed “But this is really good. You are a really talented writer. I’m talking about some serious Edgar Allan Poe shit going on with you.”

         “Oh, I don’t think I do, Chris. But thank you. By the way, there is more champagne in the bar. It is all on me tonight. You’d better  enjoy it.”

         “Your wish is an order. See you around, Blainey.”

         Blaine smiled again once his friend left. He walked the long hallway paying attention to the old photos that hanged on the walls. Legends of the theater had photos in that same stage he had his play performed. Blaine was overwhelmed by it. The Boy Wonder Of Playwriting, the magazines called him. Only twenty-two years old and already taking the whole theater community by surprise.

         He had written a thriller for the stage which combined a dramatic plot with audience interactivity. The play wasn’t only on the stage. He created an atmosphere of adrenaline around him. The plot involved a mystery, psychological thriller and a love story that tied all of that. 

         The air suddenly shifted and Blaine was startled by an elder man who was probably on his 90’s.

         “Oh! I’m so sorry. I got a little bit…”

         The elder smiled politely, his eyes were light blue, almost green. His face was delicate and wrinkled. Blaine thought he should’ve been an attractive man when he was young, his face was classical. His jaws weren’t broad. He looked like a 1930’s Broadway star.

         The man grabbed Blaine’s hand. Blaine didn’t want to be rude so he let the man hold it. He opened Blaine’s hand and put what looked like a gold pocket watch inside it. Blaine didn’t understand but held the watch.

         “Please come back. Come back to me.” The elder said, staring intently inside Blaine’s eyes.

         “Sir, I…” Blaine started, holding his gaze.

         “Blaine! Are you there?” He heard Wayne calling for him. He turned his back to the mysterious man for a second to say that he was already coming and when he turned again the man wasn’t there. Vanished.

         The gold watch, however, continued on Blaine’s hand. He looked at the antique with certain curiosity. He was confused as he could be. The watch was delicate, as the man that gave it to him. Despite being very old – the date of fabrication was carved on it 1925 – it still shined and displayed a design esthetic long lost for contemporaneous jewelers.

         “Blaine, darling, what are you doing?” Wayne stopped by him.

         “I was just… Looking at the pictures.”

         “Oh, they are divine. Are you ready to go?”

         “Sure. Let me just grab my coat.”

         “Already did.” Wayne helped him dress his trench coat.

         “You are amazing.” Blaine said, planting a kiss in his boyfriend’s lips.

         “I know.” Wayne smiled. When he smiled, Blaine could swear his heart would skip a beat. “Now let’s go home and have our celebration.”

         They held hands and exited the theater.

***************

         The morning after Blaine woke up alone in bed. He could smell pancakes. Wayne was already up and in the kitchen. Five-star breakfast in the morning, every morning. This was one of the perks of dating one of the most successful chefs in New York. Blaine got up and the image of the man he encountered on the theater the night before. He walked towards the blazer he wore yesterday and searched the pockets to find a delicate gold watch.

         He walked to the living room with the watch in hands, memorizing all the details of its display and the decoration of its cover.

         “I see my talented and favorite boyfriend is awake.” Wayne greeted him with a pancake plate in hand, and planted a kiss on Blaine’s lips.

         “What do you mean by favorite boyfriend?” Blaine asked, faking suspicion.

         “Oh, semantics. Pardon me. My talented, favorite and only boyfriend.”

         “Now that’s more like it.” Blaine pressed his lips on Wayne’s with a little bit of urgency. Wayne noticed that.

         “Well, someone woken up off the right side of the bed today.”

         Blaine felt a smile spreading his face.

         “I’m just happy. I have a wonderful boyfriend, a wonderful apartment in New York city and it is quite big. And I have a finished play at last.”

         “Yes. And all those things go better with pancakes. Strawberry pancakes specially. Your favorite.”

         Blaine sat on the table to eat and faced the perfectly organized plate with strawberry pancakes freshly cooked and delicately decorated with a sprinkle of sugar and cream. That was the thing about Wayne. He was incredibly perfectionist with the things he did. He was extremely clean, that was his style. He never exceeded himself. The way he cooked was clean, the way he dressed was clean, their house was clean. And Blaine loved it. Blaine was the over and Wayne was the less. Blaine over thought, over cared. Blaine also was the over romantic one. Wayne, of course, was sweet and amazing and caring. But Blaine loved some excess when talking about romance. He wanted that kind of love that makes people write sonnets about it, the kind of love that lives on through time, the kind of love that triumphs over death.

         But in some way, the arrangement of things, Wayne being the calm and collected one and Blaine being the ultra-romantic he was, their relationship worked out. And Blaine had a suspicion that that was the reason they worked so well. They were balance. While Wayne taught Blaine that heart shouldn’t rule his life at all times, Blaine taught him that it was okay to dream a little more, to love a little looser.

         The watch weighed on his hand and he forgot it was ever there. He put it in front of him one more time while eating and again, analyzed the watch. And more than all, why the man seemed so urgent in delivering it to him. He remained confused as why the man gave it to him. He didn’t say any names, he just said “Come back to me”.

         “What do you got there?” Wayne asked.

         “It’s just something someone gave it to me yesterday. It’s not a big deal.”

         “Let me see it.” Blaine handed the watch and Wayne held it ever so delicately with his capable hands.

         “Blaine, this is antique.”

         “I know. The date is carved.”

         “Oh, I see it now.” Wayne answered, now he had a curious look on his face, analyzing the gold watch. “Blaine, this is actual gold, I think.”

         “Since when did you become a jewelry connoisseur?” Blaine stood up from his seat and embraced Wayne’s back.

         “Well, I do not have to be a connoisseur to see that this is gold.” Wayne half-turned his head in Blaine’s direction. “Who gave you this?”

         “An old man, at the theater yesterday.”

         “Don’t you know him?”

         “No.” Blaine stopped hugging his boyfriend and arched his eyebrows. “I do not know him at all. But he seemed to know me.”

         “Wow. That’s creepy. But I have to get to work, Blainey. I could discuss your creepy old fans the whole day, but that restaurant it’s not gonna run itself.”

         “I know. I know. You have to go and I’ll just start writing something. Maybe I’ll swing by the theater to give it back to this man. It’s a gold watch, it must’ve some value.”

         “Don’t return it.” Wayne replied, and Blaine was about to object when he spoke again. “That’s rude! For some obvious reason he wanted you to have it and you shouldn’t give it back. But you definitely should know who this man is.”

         “I’ll see. I’ll see. Now go. You’re gonna be late.”

         “I’ll see you later, babe.” Wayne kissed him profoundly and then left the apartment.

         Later that day, Blaine went to the theater to see the guest list of who had gone in the debut of his play. But it was a v.i.p debut and every single person there were ex-coworkers, friends and family. He knew absolutely everyone on that list.

         They said it could be someone that worked there, but everyone that worked the other night was there at the moment, and Blaine didn’t recognize anyone as the man who gave him the watch. He asked if they were sure that that was it and they showed him the work sheet.

         Blaine, then, settled with it being some admirer of his work. Weeks, and months passed, and the thought of the old man didn’t bother him anymore. But every now and then what the man said would pop into his head.

         It seemed like something out of a movie. And Blaine had a talent for mysteries but he just couldn’t figure that one out. So he let it be. But he didn’t let it go.