When Blaine was 14, he was sure that the world was full of promise: change was coming, he knew it, and could feel it in the air all around him. Maybe he was young, and too optimistic, but he was sure, positive that the world was changing, becoming more accepting and open.

When Blaine was 14, he had just a little of that optimism beaten out of him at his first school dance.

He never admitted this to himself: he had changed, but he chose to name those changes things like ‘maturity’ and ‘realism’. He never gave up hoping that one day things would be different for kids like him, but he did lose a bit of the wide-eyed innocence.

At the age of 15, Blaine wanted it all: he wanted a boyfriend and someone to hold hands with. Someone who would look behind the uniform and the perfect hair. Someone to see past the boy who had run away from bullies to find shelter and haven in a school that was stifling and monochromatic.

So maybe he threw himself into every interaction that hinted at the slightest possibility. Maybe he read too much into the littlest things, searching for signs that someone, anyone, might want him.

He would go home to a cold and empty house over breaks, immediately missing the noise and camaraderie of the dorms. Home to cold dinners and careless notes, with parents gone to one party after another, stuck in business meetings or getting together with friends for a quick nine holes on a sunny Sunday. When he was home, he was as good as invisible; a wandering ghost, haunting corners in search of warm memories, happy moments from his childhood.

They weren’t really there.

By the time his 16th birthday had rolled around, Blaine was terrifyingly empty without even knowing it: he thought he was happy. He had friends, he was the lead singer of the Warblers- he was popular and accepted.

When Blaine Anderson was 16, he met a boy on the staircase at Dalton and his whole world changed. Like his 14 year old self, Blaine was sure that something good was coming.

It wasn’t until years later, with his 20th birthday looming, that Blaine realized just how desperately sad and lonely he had been. As the final hours of his life as a teenager counted down, he understood that he had been a vessel, waiting for someone, anyone, to come and fill him with even the smallest drop of something like love.

Staring into the mirror on the eve of his twentieth birthday, Blaine’s face is tired.
A rueful smile twists his mouth; he wonders if there will ever be any part of him that can believe in something good again.