The Anniversary

            The sky is a darkening bruise and the cold seeps into his bones, whipping him as it does the skeletal branches and their fallen golden progeny.  He draws his coat tighter around his frame as he walks; his fingers numb and useless.  The ring on the third finger of his left hand spins freely now as he rotates it with his thumb – another new sensation – cold, unfamiliar and heavy with unspoken symbolism.  They won't understand – he knows that.  He's not sure he has the energy to even begin to make them.  To help them.  He's not sure he even knows where to begin.

-+-

            It had started at a party Blaine and his brother and he had thrown in honour of their parents' 30th wedding anniversary.  He had felt eyes on him all evening and he had tried to ignore the sensation – focusing instead on being the perfect host – ensuring his guests had everything they needed and allowing his parents to celebrate.  Cooper had come without a date and so, after making the necessary rounds, had migrated to the bar and a group of predominantly older, single women.  Blaine had rolled his eyes and left his brother to it, steadfastly refusing to get dragged into another duet where his sole purpose would be to amplify his brother's talent and sex appeal.  He was not wholly sure how long he could avoid the inevitable, however, as when she had been drinking his mother was prone to demanding that he perform for whichever company was around at the time.    By the looks of things he had a couple more hours before his mother would be requesting he play the baby grand and then it would become the Cooper Show.  He found himself downing a brandy in anticipation, flinching as it burnt his throat and set fire to his belly.  He watched the couples mingle.

            Kurt should have been here with me.

A second brandy chased that unwelcome thought away before it became a pity party for one.  A familiar tickle in the back of his mind drew him once again from his thoughts and into the room and the eyes he felt all over his skin.  Crawling inside him, burrowing deeply. 

            Let them.  They'll find me wanting.

-+-

            Douglas Graeme Chambers, 3rd, was undeniably bored.  It was not that he was unused to events such as this – in fact the truth was quite the opposite – it was that Douglas was fed up with the subtext.  He was fed up of being dragged up from his home and friends in New York to be paraded around in the hope that finally, finally, the eldest son of the esteemed Douglas Graeme Chambers, 2nd, would find a suitable wife.  As indeed, his younger brother Roger had done.  It was actually Roger's fault he was in Ohio for this particular function – Roger had deemed the Andersons' anniversary party to be the perfect opportunity to introduce his wayward elder brother to his lifelong friend and their social circle.  It was not exactly New York.

            ‘Maybe that's what you need, Diggsie – fresh blood!'

Yes – homophobic, backwards Ohio was exactly what Douglas needed.  Why had he not thought of it before?

Over the years he had tried, oh, how he had tried, to explain that he was never going to marry – at least, not a lady.  His father was continually disappointed in him, embarrassed even – especially when Roger married, then produced not one, but two, male heirs.  Douglas' mother eventually gave up trying to “set him up” after none of the “dates” progressed passed the initial “getting to know you” dinner.  If she had not given up on her own Douglas would have eventually simply refused to attend them – ultimately it was easier for her to ignore him and to focus instead on her other son and two grandsons.

Partly due to this Douglas had long ago stopped returning to the family homestead for Thanksgivings, Christmases and other family gatherings – early on he had tired of his mother's insistence on calling his partners his “friends”.  The pressure and lack of acceptance drove each away eventually anyway.  Not that any had really held his attention in the long-term – he preferred to stay rather cold and distant – a self-defence mechanism so ingrained in his core it was now indistinguishable from his original and true self even to Douglas.  Designed to keep him from getting hurt, designed to keep them from getting too close, to stop them from finding him wanting as they inevitably would.

So, Douglas had been free to stay in New York for almost 15 years, however, his father's patience had long ago expired.  It was only the fact that, under Douglas' stewardship and guidance his Grandfather's business D.G. Chambers & Sons of Jermyn Street, London, was also now of 160 W. 71st Street, New York, that he had been granted a degree of privacy and a brief reprise.  However, the impending 70th birthday had reminded the senior Douglas of his own mortality and had ultimately turned the spotlight back on his eldest son, who had selfishly not taken the time granted to him to find a wife for himself.  The argument that had ensued had been nasty and had resulted in both men refusing to have anything more to do with each other.  It had taken Roger and their mother's interference to return the men to speaking terms, stilted and purely business-related as they were.  Douglas had eventually learned the terms of his acquaintance with his family – he was to attend any and all societal events his parents deemed him to, as a representative of the company, of course, and he was to wine and dine any relevant daughters of potential business partners or customers.  Douglas would rather have drunk lead acid, but he was grateful to Roger for his attempt at peace-making – their parents were aging and the last thing any of them needed were regrets.  He had too many of those already.

This party of the Andersons' was the first of these new additions to his social calendar – Roger's wife, Adeline, was apparently under strict instruction to introduce Douglas to any suitable ladies (she had, no doubt, been  given clear instructions as to how to determine eligibility by Douglas' mother).  So far none had kept his attention past a brief conversation regarding the unseasonably cold weather precisely long enough to be deemed socially acceptable, before he excused himself and returned to the bar.

Douglas had, of course, eventually been introduced to Bill Anderson and his wife, as well as their eldest son, Cooper.  There had been mentions of a younger son, however, Cooper had quickly curtailed the conversation and grasped the attention of all involved with an anecdote that had apparently required a lot of wild gesticulating.  Douglas had zoned out quickly and amused himself instead by allowing his eyes to scan, and if he were honest, judge, each of the other guests.  He had met plenty of Cooper's type before – handsome, high maintenance, and straight as they come.  Anyway, blue eyes had never really done anything for him.  It was then that he saw him.  He was old Hollywood and youth – all strength, and lean, long-limbed, limber beauty; broad shoulders and impossibly narrow hips.  Simply put – he took Douglas' breath away – the boy belonged on film; he was completely out-of-place in a dull dinner party in Ohio.  Douglas was only aware that he had been staring when the youth suddenly met his gaze.  There was a fascinating sadness there – a depth to those golden eyes that was completely unexpected, and he found that he needed to know the story beneath their depths.  Was the youth as fascinated by what he saw?  He could not possibly be so – they were from two completely different worlds, let alone generations.  Douglas knew that he was deemed attractive – in many ways he had improved with age, but that was the first problem right there – age.  This youth could be no older than 18.  Douglas was north of 40 – closer in age to the lad's parents.  Not to mention the complications of sexuality, the law, societal norms, and a thousand other roadblocks that Douglas' mind helpfully provided for him.  But that did not stop his heart racing in a way it had never quite done before and Douglas quickly found that he could not seem to bring himself to break eye-contact.  Instead of looking away and returning to the conversation with the Andersons – Cooper had long since left the small group, and Roger was happily discussing something political with Bill while the wives engaged in discussions regarding their sons and the pros and cons of schooling in Westerville versus Lima – he found himself avidly studying the creature of beauty before him.

            ‘Oh, that's Blaine.'

Mrs Anderson (Douglas berated himself for failing to recall her name)'s voice snatched Douglas' attention.

            ‘I'm sorry?'  He hoped he managed to sound better than he felt.

            ‘The young man over there that caught your attention – he's my youngest, Blaine.'

Douglas turned back to find the youth had returned to his previous activities as a host whilst Douglas had been distracted by the lad's mother.  Douglas regretfully returned his attention to the ladies, suddenly finding himself interested in why the youngest Anderson had fought so hard to transfer schools.

-+-

            The tall gentleman engaged in conversation with his parents and the Chamberses was looking at him again - Blaine could feel his eyes on his back, his ass, his legs.  He felt nervous and naked, exposed and alarmingly aroused.  He was being appreciated and appraised openly and unashamedly and he really was not used to it - he was still getting used to the idea that he could be deemed “attractive” and worthy of such attention, but the whole thing with Kurt had severely knocked his confidence.  Actually it felt good.  Better than good.  He felt colour rise in his cheeks and saw a smile tickle the corners of the other man's lips.  Something deep inside Blaine celebrated that he could cause such a reaction.  It concerned Blaine how unconcerned he was that the attention was coming from a man who was clearly his parents' age.  Instead, the thought that such a man – immaculately dressed, experienced, worldly wise and so evidently wealthy – could be interested in him sent a thrill through him.  He could not bring himself to look too deeply into why that was his reaction – he was pretty confident he would not like what he saw.

When the gentleman finally looked away, distracted by something Blaine's mother had said, it was as if a trance had been broken and Blaine tried to distract himself by endeavouring to ensure that all the guests in the vicinity's needs were catered for.  But the feel of the man's eyes never left him and he found his own meeting the mystery man's more regularly than would be proper.  That nervous tingle of excitement and arousal built steadily with each minute that passed until Blaine found he needed to flee – to get fresh air – to escape the intensity of this feeling he could not understand.  He fingered his phone in his pocket as he made his way out into the chilled air.  He walked through the garden until he could walk no further and could barely hear the clamour of the party, sheltered as he was by a dense hedgerow.  He fought to regain control with each forced breath of the freezing air.  He could feel the blush lingering in his cheeks and he knew it was not entirely there due to the brandy.  He pulled out his phone, steeling himself and dialled Sam's number, Sam was after all the only friend he had left at McKinley.  He needed to talk to someone – for someone to talk him out of doing something else extremely stupid -

            It doesn't feel stupid.

- to rationalise it for him.

No answer.

He sighed and returned his phone to his pocket unsure whether the wave that crashed over him was relief, disappointment, or fear.  He watched his breath curl in air before him as he again tried to calm himself down.

            Pull yourself together, Blaine.  It is probably all in your head.  You haven't even spoken to the guy!  He's probably not even interested – why would he be?  He was probably looking at you because your mother was talking about you.  It is possible he was even looking at someone behind you.  You are utterly insignificant and your only purpose tonight is to ensure your parents enjoy their party and so do their guests.  Oh, and to stop Cooper doing something incredibly stupid.  Now, pull yourself together and stop letting what happened with Kurt get to you.  That's all this is – misdirected, desperate craving for attention.  Now get back in there and do your duty as a son.

-+-

            Douglas could not explain the panic that swept over him when he lost sight of Blaine – he felt odd using his name when they had not yet even been formally introduced.  He had not even heard him speak.  All he knew with utter clarity was that he felt bizarrely protective of him.  Douglas filed the thought away to worry about what it meant later, for now all he knew was that he had to find him.  What if he had missed his chance?  What if he had left the party?  He found himself making plans and coming up with excuses, each more ridiculous and implausible than the last, as to why he would need to call again on the Andersons and their sons.  A firm hand on his shoulder effectively broke his fevered reverie and caused him to jump.

            ‘Are you alright, Diggsie?'

Upon realising the intrusion was merely his brother, Douglas returned to his frantic, albeit stationary searching.

            ‘It's nothing.' 

            ‘Doesn't look like nothing.'  Roger said as he stepped deliberately into Douglas' eye line – blocking his line of sight with the majority of the room.

Douglas sighed and allowed his gaze to settle on his brother's earnest face.

            ‘What's got you all flustered?  I've not seen you look so…'

            ‘So what, Rog?'

            ‘Panicked?  Desperate?'

Douglas looked at his brother – really looked at him.  How could he even begin to explain something even he did not understand?  Of course his brother knew the real reason why Douglas had never shown an interest in marriage (to a woman).  Roger knew why Douglas' enforced dates never went past the first dinner.  It was never something they had discussed.  He had no idea how his brother felt about it - whether he even supported him or not.  All he really had to go on was the fact that Roger had intervened on his behalf in the past – that suggested that Roger was OK with him – at least partly.  Douglas took a breath as he decided on how much to divulge to his younger sibling.

            ‘I was looking for someone.'

            ‘Who?  I hadn't noticed you spend more than a cursory half hour with any one person this evening.'  Roger turned to look in the direction his brother had last been searching.  Douglas sighed and steeled himself.

            ‘I actually haven't formally met them yet…'  He allowed his sentence to trail off allowing his brother to garner what he would from the admission.

            ‘Take your eye did they?'  Roger turned back to face his brother – a glint in his eye.  Douglas did not miss his brother's continuation of the non-gender specific pronoun rather than assuming the feminine as their parents would have done.   Douglas allowed himself to take it as a positive sign – a suggestion of acceptance.

            ‘The youngest Anderson.  I realised that I had yet to introduce myself and I was attempting to correct that fact.'

            ‘Ah!  You mean Blaine.  He's a sweet young thing – used to go to Dalton with my two.  A Warbler like you were.  Nothing like his elder brother – a bit like you and I in that regard.'  Roger turned to scour the room again and Douglas released a breath he had not been aware he had been holding.

            ‘Used to?'  Douglas grasped the opportunity to find out more about the details behind the youngest Anderson's battle to transfer to the state school in Lima against his parents' better judgement and wishes.

            ‘Hm?'  Roger turned to face his brother again.

            ‘You said he used to go to Dalton.  I heard Mrs Anderson and your Adeline skirting around that earlier.  Did the lad do something?'

Roger snorted in amusement.

            ‘Blaine!  Ha!  No.'  Roger met Douglas' eye and paused.  He was contemplating something – that much was plain.  Douglas frowned.  What could possibly have happened to the lad that could be so terrible as to result in him practically begging (by all accounts) to transfer schools?  What could be so bad that Roger had to debate whether or not to tell his own brother what he knew?  Roger seemed to make up his mind, lowering his voice after giving their surroundings a cursory glance to ensure they would not be overheard gossiping about their hosts' youngest son.  ‘It was something to do with a boy.  That's what my Doug said anyway.  Blaine's friend was being bullied at his old school and so he transferred to Dalton to escape it.  Blaine had experienced something similar before the Andersons had moved here because of Bill's job – so the lads had a lot in common.'

            ‘So what happened to make Blaine move schools?'

            ‘His friend decided he missed his friends from his old school, or something, and moved back.  Blaine missed him so he followed suit.  Bill was not thrilled at the thought, not after what happened to Blaine at his previous school.'

            ‘What happened?'

            ‘Lad was attacked.  Nasty business.  It was better for everyone that they moved and pulled him out of that place when they did.  Set him back a year.'

            ‘That bad?'

            ‘Kept it out of the public eye though – I think all those involved were relieved when they settled out of court.'

            ‘I'm not surprised that Bill was a bit anxious about his son transferring schools then.  Especially to a state school.'

            ‘Exactly.  He gave in eventually though.  Adeline and I were shocked when they told us – we never thought Blaine would get his own way.'

            ‘Lad should be a lawyer.'

            ‘Ha!  I think that's what Bill thought too!'

            ‘What of the friend?'

Roger studied his brother's face during their exchange carefully as they spoke – Douglas, however, kept his face in a careful mask – he had years of practice feigning indifferent interest after all. 

            ‘No longer in the picture from what I've heard.  Lad was the same age as Blaine but, of course, after the incident, Blaine was kept back a year so he went off to college while Blaine had to stay in the school he fought so hard to transfer to, alone.  It's been rough on him, from what I've heard.  Bill's been trying to convince him to go back to Dalton – they would take him back in a heartbeat, even mid-way through the school year.  Kid's bright.  They've been having hell of a time with him though.'

            ‘Sounds like transferring would be for the best – Dalton would look better when his college applications go through.'

            ‘Undeniably.'

Douglas hummed in response.  Roger frowned and placed a hand steadily on his brother's shoulder as he passed by. 

            ‘Careful, Diggsie.'

-+-

            Blaine breathed in the heady scent of the last of the winter jasmine as he passed the beds, letting the familiarity of it soothe him.  What on earth was wrong with him?  He was being utterly ridiculous – he was letting his teenage libido get the better of him again.  That was how he ended up sans boyfriend in the first place.  He laughed bitterly at himself. 

            If only it were as simple as “boyfriend”.  That word was never enough - never could be enough for what we had.  What I ruined.

The sound of someone calling his name caused Blaine to pick up speed as he made his way back to the party.  He gradually made out his brother's silhouette and waived in Cooper's direction to acknowledge that he had heard him and was coming.  Blaine was rewarded with a mime and a lot of agitated pointing from which Blaine inferred that he was being summoned to the piano.  He sighed and slowed his pace – a little act of rebellion, even if it was only delaying the inevitable. 

            Goosebumps specked his flesh as he re-entered the stuffy warmth of the house filled with too many bodies and the associated mix of colognes, perfumes, alcohol, sweat and cold vol-au-vents that assaulted him.  He managed to mask his revulsion as he made his way obediently to the piano.  His brother had turned off the sound system and was saying something that would both draw the assembled guests' attention to the piano whilst simultaneously making him come across charming and entertaining.  Blaine did not even need to listen to his brother – he predicted the ripple of amusement that jostled the room accurately by the timbre of Cooper's voice.  Blaine smiled to himself. 

            Showtime.