Chapter 1

 His skin prickled; tiny fissures of excitement rippled up his arms and curled around his heart as he took in the view. His apartment. His. He listened. No ear-shattering screams of his 6 month old nephew puncturing the air. No sister-in-law with her frantic, slightly manic eyes darting past his bedroom door to add her soothing coos to the cacophony in the neighbouring bedroom. No Richard Anderson hollering into his cell from the study below, demanding to know "Why! Why hasn't the deposition gone out already when it was emailed THIS morning!"

Instead he was lulled by the gentle hum of the air conditioning unit above his head in the entrance hall and the singsong patter of his realtor Eddie as he explained about maintenance fees and thermostats and trash collection days.

 Six months Blaine had been back at home after completing his final year as a music major at NYU and it had damn near killed him. A combination of desperately dwindling finances, staggering rental prices in New York and the woeful lack of job prospects had meant Blaine had been pretty much forced back into the family fold; a situation he realised had become even more dire since the elder Anderson brother had also come staggering back, family in tow having been made redundant eight months previously.

Those months Blaine realised had cemented both his understanding of the depth of his love for his family and also the absolute certainty that he could NEVER live under the same roof as any of them ever again.

 The straw that had broken the proverbial camel's back had been the argument with his mother two weeks ago that had started with a slight gripe about the condition of the under ripe bananas Blaine had purchased from the local Whole Foods on his way home and ended with Blaine's hurled insult that his mother had never "understood or accepted his ‘life' choices"; something both categorically untrue of his poor, ever doting mother and also inexplicably far removed from a discussion about bananas! His mother had come with him to the realtors office the following morning.

 "I love you honey but I think it best, for all of us, if we allow you to spread your wings a little."

 Rental prices were considerably cheaper in Columbus, Blaine had found, than in Manhattan.

"Blaine?" Eddie's voice snapped him back to the present and he realised he was expected to answer a question he had no idea had been posed. Eddie's quizzical eyes drifted over his face and Blaine shrugged apologetically.

"Sorry Ed, I was just admiring the view. Totally missed what you just asked me."

Eddie moved his eyes to Blaine's line of vision and took in the solid brick wall of the neighbouring apartment block thinking, not for the first time, that this guy was completely nuts. Still commission was commission and this baby of an apartment had literally fallen into his lap.

 "I was just asking if you'd heard the details about the previous owners' situation. Bit of a tragic one actually. Poor guy."

Blaine finally dragged his eyes away from the hardwood flooring and exquisitely decorated living room to focus back on Eddie.

"Why? What happened to him?

 "Car accident or something. The guy's in a coma but his family can't bear to pull the plug. Just sub-letting his place till they think he'll come round. Deluded if you ask me."

Blaine looked appalled at Eddie's callous attitude but felt a tiny quiver of worry that his wonderful new living arrangements, artfully mapped out in front of him were about to be whipped out from beneath him with the miraculous recovery of their former owner. He silently admonished himself for his own selfishness and recovered his face into some semblance of concern.

"You don't think he'll recover?" Was that hopeful question for himself or the poor guy? Blaine swallowed his guilt and awaited the reply. Eddie grinned at him,

 "Don't worry Blaine. The guys a gonna for sure. There's no way he's coming out of that hospital until they zip up that body bag and haul him out."

 Blaine refrained from answering, although he shamefully allowed the warm tingling from earlier to settle back into his chest. A jangling noise caught his attention again as Eddie, dangling the keys in front of his face, came back into focus. Blaine snatched at them as he ushered him out of the apartment.

His apartment. He smiled again as the distressed panelled front door shut out the final platitudes of Eddie and the hallway was once again silent. Leaning against the cool wood, Blaine allowed his feet to slide out from underneath him as he sank to the floor and took in the blissful solitude of his new home.

 __________________________________________________________________________ 

"No!. You didn't even try! Throw it. Throw the damn ball!" The Buckeyes game was not going well. Tossing his bowl of chips onto the sofa in disgust, Blaine hauled himself up to get another beer, keeping his eyes firmly trained on the misery that was unfolding on the screen as he navigated the kitchen.

Despite only being in the apartment for seven hours, there was a certain symbiotic relationship that had sprung up between Blaine and his living space and he moved easily around the kitchen locating all the required accoutrements for his Saturday ‘Game Night'.

He groaned as another fumbled pass played out on the T.V but there was a certain lightness to his movements as he danced around the apartment and random lines of songs from the collection in his head, sporadically bubbled up into the living space.

And then another voice seemed to be heard wafting through the apartment.

Blaine froze, bottle midway to his lips as a soft and hauntingly light voice floated through the walls seeming to seep into his skin; burrowing down into his very core. He strained toward the wall he shared with his neighbours but the singing seemed to emanate from behind him where his new bedroom and bathroom awaited him.

His skin tingled again and not, Blaine realised in a wholly unsettling way. He knew he should be frightened at the strangeness of clearly having some unknown entity in his new apartment. He should be.....what? Angry? Angry at the gall of his intruder to break in. To sing? But it was the voice. It lulled him, beckoned like those of the sirens in the bedtime stories his mother had read to him as a child.

Imperceptibly he felt his body rise and turn toward the sound. It had become stronger now; words from a song he seemed to remember from somewhere way back in the recesses of his mind.

"Spread these broken wings and learn to fly"

Steam drifted out from under the bathroom door at the end of the corridor and Blaine felt his body drawn towards it. His fingertips brushed against the wood panelling as he paused.

It was unmistakable now. The voice was sweet, pure, slightly feminine although seemed to have the promise of a huskier undertone that rang through the lower notes. Blaine shivered at the realisation that he didn't want to disturb the singer; felt almost rude for the interruption.

He listened as the song neared its end, shaking himself at his idiocy and yet still watching his fingers stroking the door rather than forcing the way in like he knew he should do.

"You were only waiting for this moment to arrive"

Suddenly the ending of the song seemed to stir Blaine into action;  the indignation and anger that he knew he should have felt long before now suddenly bubbled to the surface and he shoved his hands against the door with the full force his tiny frame could muster.