.

You know how the expression "The boy of my dreams" is only a figure of speech?

Well, for Blaine, it's literal.

He doesn't quite remember the very first time they met, and he guesses that's fine because, after meeting as many times as they have, circumstances cease to matter. It's only the "lasts" that he worries about, but he guesses, too, that they'll cross that bridge when they get there.

The first memory he has of his dream boy is a fuzzy one.

They're in some sort of pier, standing a few feet away from each other, and when he does notice the boy in the long, gray raincoat, he gets the feeling that he didn't just appear there all of a sudden, he gets the feeling that the boy has been there for as long as himself, and that he hadn't noticed him before because he was lost in a reverie, one he remembers nothing about. Blaine stares, maybe a little too pointedly, until the boy looks his way. That's where his memory starts to fail him, but with some help from his imagination, he manages to convince himself that the boy smiled at him. Sometimes he spices it up a little and adds a fake memory of the boy waving his way in a "We know each other, silly!" fashion.

Anyway, it hardly matters. Embellishments to a poor event are pointless when he has so many other memories far more interesting to ponder on.

Like that time they came out to each other.

It's not like it wasn't evident, and after all, it's not like they were actually going to engage in some sort of relationship.

That's what he said.

Blaine noted, then, that dream guys aren't even remotely close to what people make of them. Still, that doesn't make Blaine's dream guy any less dreamy. Guess if there's something people are right about is that love is blind.

Yes, Blaine loves him. Sometimes he thinks it's really, awfully silly, because he knows it's just a figment of his imagination, and he knows he's only fooling himself, but to tell the truth? Blaine has never been happier than when they're together, sitting on their little bench that looks out to the ocean, lake, river or whatever it is they are facing.

Is he really that messed up? Doesn't everybody dream?

Blaine looks beside him, and the boy, his boy, is gazing wistfully into the horizon. The sun is rising, and they both know what that means. Blaine reaches for the boy's hand, which was laying helplessly upon the boy's thigh. His (Blaine tries to block out the adjective 'well-toned') thighs which are clad in ridiculously patterned pants. Blaine thinks it's cute, the way his imagination can come up with those outrageous outfits. He never considered himself fashion designer material, and the boy is always so well-dressed, so Blaine had started to Google detailed descriptions of the clothes… only to find that they were in fact by some this or that designer, something Alex and Queen and Jacobs and he feels disappointed, for it seems his subconscious mind has been committing plagiary.

He regrets nothing, though. As long as the boy keeps wearing those tightly fitted jeans, he doesn't care if he gets sued for stealing other people's imagination.

He wonders about that, too. From where is his imagination stealing this beautiful boy?

For months, Blaine spent every ounce of free time he ever had watching every movie and T.V. show there was, trying to find the actor who must have inspired this strange being. Because he is sure that his poorly fed imagination could never have come up with those ever-changing blue eyes on its own.

"You are too beautiful to be a figment of my imagination."

And at this, said figment blushes, squeezing their joined hands. It's not the first time Blaine's said this, so it's not as awkward as it probably should be.

The first time Blaine said this to the boy of his dreams, he hadn't meant to say it out loud, but as it happens with dreams, you can't really hold back your thoughts, they're running around in giant, brightly colored letters, like in Sesame Street or some children's show of sorts. No secrets can be held between the both of them.

So the first time Blaine approached the boy, he voiced the very first thing that his mind came up with.

"You are too beautiful to be a figment of my imagination."

The boy raised a delicately trimmed, brunette eyebrow and said: "I don't know whether I should be flattered or scared of you."

And that's how their first conversation started.

Blaine sighs contentedly, forcing down the need to snort under his breath at the memory. The boy beside him straight out laughs, and it's Blaine's turn to blush. He tends to forget that the boy can quite literally read his mind, as he is a part of it.

"Are you ever going to let that go?"

"No. You should've seen your face, it was adorable."

"I'm so glad you take pleasure in my discomfort."

"Always."

They don't speak again after that.

The sun becomes a semicircle in the sky, and the boy stands, letting go of Blaine's hand. Blaine gives him that look he always gives him. The one full of longing and despair. The boy smiles sadly, holding Blaine's gaze for a moment that seems to end too quickly, before he turns around and walks to the edge of the pier and jumps into the deep, cold water.

Blaine knows he's supposed to follow, and it's almost alright. He doesn't want to stay there without him. It's their place. It feels empty without one of the parties that form the them.

Blaine allows himself to say them, but never us. It's kind of stupid, but like the boy said: "It's not like they're in a relationship or anything", so us is kind of forbidden.

For now.

Yes, Blaine still hopes the boy of his dreams will, one day, want to be his boyfriend. The worst part is that, since he is nothing but a work of fiction created by Blaine himself, Blaine should have some sort of power over the boy's decisions. But this boy is something else entirely, he seems to have a mind of his own.

Yes, Blaine has tried to control him. It was so fruitless that Blaine had almost wanted to cry because… how pathetic has he got to be that he can't even influence his own fantasies?

It takes him a while before he can look away from the place where the boy disappeared. The sun is full now, hanging low on the sky, which is losing its rosy tint and becoming bluer with every passing second. Blaine knows he has to go, he can't be late for school for the fourth day in a row.

Before plunging into the water, though, he stops and sits down on the edge of the pier, examining the wood under him. It takes him a moment to find them, and he always fears next time they won't be there, but for this time, the marks are there. He stopped counting after two hundred, but he still adds one every night. He knows one of these days he'll feel the need to sit down and count them, but he tries to hold back for as long as possible. When he does count them, he wants to be surprised, he wants to smile and shake his head in denial, thinking "Has it really been that long?"

But most importantly, he is waiting for the day when he's gathered enough courage to show them to the boy. He wants to see the soft smile that he's sure will arise the corners of his pink (deliciously pink) lips, and he wants to hold his hand and gaze meaningfully into his eyes, and maybe that day, the boy will realize how deeply Blaine cares for him, how much Blaine cherishes their time together. Maybe that day, he'll have enough courage to ask the boy to be his boyfriend.

Blaine carves a mark into the wood with his short nails. It would be quite the accomplishment, he thinks, if this wasn't a dream and the wood wasn't as malleable as Blaine's mind makes it be.

He jumps, then, and wakes up in his cold bed, alone and impatient for the day to be over so he can go to sleep again.

.