Learn to Fly
crystallicrain
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Learn to Fly: Hummingbird: Chapter Nineteen Outtake, Part One


T - Words: 701 - Last Updated: Nov 22, 2012
Story: Closed - Chapters: 5/? - Created: Nov 10, 2012 - Updated: Nov 22, 2012
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Hummingbird: Chapter Nineteen Outtake, Part One


Blaine took the cup of coffee from the counter, sighing heavily as he added cream and sugar. It had been a long weekend, as he slowly packed up his life in boxes, preparing for the move back to Ohio to take care of his mother. She needed him, he knew, and since his niece was only a few years old, he didn't expect his brother to be the one to do it. He couldn't; he had his own family now.

And somehow, New York hadn't felt like home to Blaine in a long time.

He picked up one of the local periodicals, taking a seat at a table and flipping through the paper. Part of him argued that he should be back at his place, finishing the packing, but he desperately needed the break.

It was then that he noticed the small ad in the corner of one page, mentioning a few young men selling off an extensive jewelry collection at an estate sale that afternoon. He raised an eyebrow as he put the coffee to his lips. Maybe he could find something interesting for his mother. She hadn't been the same since the death of Blaine's father just a few months before. Maybe Blaine could get her to remind her of the presents she used to get from her husband. He quickly entered the address into his phone, and after he finished his coffee, he set off for the house.

When he arrived, there were a few others looking curiously around the house, picking up objects and examining them with interest. Blaine found it all so strange, the way some people could look at the items sitting out at an estate sale as though they were at an antique shop, not sifting through a person's home. He merely shrugged it off, rounding the corner into the dining room where he spotted the long table covered in jewelry. Suddenly, he felt as though the ad had made a vast understatement, and he approached the table, waiting for something to catch his eye.

And then suddenly, something did. Sitting among necklaces and earrings and rings and other jewels was a gold hummingbird. Quickly he picked it up, turning it over in his hands, as though trying to prove it to be fake or an imitation. But the way the the beak was bent, and the idea that the woman was a collector...

"Thinking about buying it?"

Blaine turned, seeing a man smiling tiredly at him.

"My name's Tim," he told Blaine. "I'm one of the sons running the sale."

Blaine nodded, extending his free hand. "Blaine," he said. "How much would you want for this?"

"Danny said it's real and all that, so I've got to ask for something decent," he explained. "Five hundred?" he asked, shrugging one shoulder.

Blaine's eyes widened. "I don't—"

"If that's too much—"

"No," Blaine quickly said. "It's... I don't think you realize what you have here," he told him with a slight laugh, and Tim came closer to him, looking at the brooch more carefully. "This was a piece that was auctioned off years ago. It used to belong to Elizabeth Taylor."

"The actress?" Tim asked curiously. "My mom was into that sort of thing. I can't say I'm really surprised."

"Her jewels sold for thousands a piece," Blaine told him. "This isn't any different. I would expect to pay at least fifteen hundred—"

"Five hundred," Tim repeated.

Blaine stared at him blankly. "But—"

"Look Blaine," Tim said with a smile, "I have no use for it, and my mom already passed on the really meaningful stuff to our sisters. I can tell you're a good guy, if you're trying to tell me you should be paying three times what I'm asking. If you were just some crazy collector, you would have jumped at the price I gave you." He paused slightly. "You're not even getting it for yourself, are you?"

Blaine shook his head. "No," he admitted. "I'm not."

Tim nodded. "For your mom?" he asked, and Blaine shook his head.

"It's for..." he trailed off, feeling slightly foolish at the idea.

"Some special girl?" Tim asked. "Or guy?" he added after a second of thought.

"Yeah," Blaine murmured vaguely. "Something like that."

"Well, Blaine," Tim said, "write me a check for five hundred and it's all yours."


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