Chapter 2

                Blaine woke to the sound of buzzing. His first thought was that there was a bee in the room. Then he realized that bees aren’t usually around in October. His second thought was that someone must be trying to chain saw down his door. In half-sleep panic he sat up in bed, suddenly alert. No, that wasn’t the sound of a chain saw. And besides it had stopped now. Blaine blinked a few times in the light that was creeping around the edges of his curtains. Then the buzzing started again. He looked over to his bed-side table. Right, his cell-phone was on vibrate mode.

                “H’lo?”
                “It’s a good thing you don’t even try to go to church or you’d have the worst attendance in the world. Did you seriously just wake up?”
                “Yeah, the phone woke me up. Couldn’t even hide from you with vibrate mode.” Blaine rubbed his eyes with the heal of his hand and got out of bed. He walked over to the window and pulled the curtains aside. If he didn’t know it was so chilly out, he’d swear it was a nice day. The sun was shining brilliantly. Somewhere in the distance a church bell chimed. Once.
                “We have laundry to do. Wondering if you had stuff to add.”
                “Umm…” Blaine looked around at the disaster that was his room, “Yeah, I have some stuff.”
                “So can we come over or does Sir Sleepy Face need some more time?”
                “No, no, I can be downstairs in a bit. When are you coming?”
                “………We may or may not be outside right now. No, wait….We’re inside now, Evan grabbed the door when some lady left.”
                “Then why don’t you just do your own laundry then?” Blaine laughed.
                “Uhh, cause it’s YOUR building…that would just be weird.” Blaine could almost see Ethan’s sarcastic eye roll. A second voice, slightly further away from the phone, piped up.
                “Dude, hurry up! We’re gonna go for lunch after this.”
                “I haven’t even had breakfast! This is like the equivalent of 8 am for me.” He had started walking around his room and rooting through the piles of stuff lying around, looking for the dirtiest clothes and the smelliest socks. When his arms got full he started trying to scoop things up with his feet to pass into his fingers. He lost his balance and dropped everything. “Guys, just…I’ll be down in a sec.” Blaine tossed the phone onto his bed and scooped up the mess he had dropped, dumping into a laundry basket beside his door. It possibly would have been logical to keep his dirty laundry in there to begin with, instead of trying to tidy things up all the time. A slight warble emitted from the next room.
                “Morning, Pav”, said Blaine, plopping the basket beside his miniature top-hat clad Dalek. He went over and stuck his fingers through the bars of the cage. The warbler nipped at them.  The only reason he had Pavarotti was because of Ethan and Evan. The reason he had anything was because of Ethan and Evan. He owed them everything.

                He finally found the twins lounging in the laundry room. They kept saying that they didn’t have laundry at their building, although there was a Laundromat a block in the other direction. Blaine suspected it was their way of checking up on him. The two boys had clearly been awake for some time now. They dressed casually, but perfectly. Their outfits always matched but were never identical. Blaine still couldn’t tell them apart on the best of days, so he found it easier to direct his words toward both as a single entity, because they usually answered in unison anyway, or at least completed each other’s sentences. One of them was in a chair with his feet in the table. He had on slim fitting dark brown pants, a denim-blue Henley and a dark grey blazer. A dark blue triangular scarf was tied to his neck.  The one that was standing on the other side of the table wore the same style of pant, but in denim; a dark grey Henley, and a fitted leather coat, the same brown as the other’s pant. His blue scarf was long, and wrapped a few times around his neck. They looked like a spread in a fashion magazine. Blaine looked down at his purple and black pajama pants and suddenly wished he had taken a few minutes to at least put jeans on.
                “Coffee,” said the standing one, who Blaine was going to go ahead and call Evan today. He held a cup toward Blaine, which he accepted gratefully. They were too nice to him. They brought him coffee, they paid for laundry when they mixed their stuff with Blaine’s – which was usually all the time, they texted or called when they hadn’t heard from him in a while. At first Blaine thought it was all a ruse to get something out of him. Although, what he could give THEM of all people, he had no idea. He finally had to admit that they were just nice people. And if not for them, Blaine might not still be living in New York.

                When Blaine had first arrived in Manhattan, he very soon realized he had no plans. He had just walked away from terrible memories of his hometown, without even telling his parents. He just knew he had to go somewhere. But when he arrived, reality sank in. He had a bit of money saved up from odd summer jobs, and no cell phone. Where would he sleep? Where would he live? What would he eat? Which streets could he trust and which were bad news? He had just turned 18 so he couldn’t even hang out in a bar. After walking for what seemed like ages, he finally found a McDonalds. He ordered food and asked if there were any places to stay the night around here. He was handed a phone book and his meal.
                Blaine studied the phone book, but without a map it was impossible to know which way to turn.  His next stop after McDonalds was a convenience store to get a map and some gum. He was on 8th Ave. He looked one way, then the other, trying to decide where to go. He finally figured that there must be hotels near the bus station, so he should go back the way he came and walk in circles until he found one. It wasn’t long before he found something. They were everywhere now that he had his eyes open for them. He picked the simplest looking one and went in. He asked for a room from the perfectly made-up brunette behind the counter. She pursed her lips and typed at her computer.
                “We have a queen size available, how many nights did you need?” Blaine hadn’t thought further than this. How many nights? How long did it take to find a job and a place to live in this place?
                “Uhh, two for now, I guess. We’ll see how that goes.” The girl did a good job of not giving him a quizzical look. She typed in a few more things on her computer.
                “Best rate available is one-ninety-five per night, so your total for the stay will be three-ninety.”
                Blaine nearly choked. Although now that he thought about it, was he really expecting to find a fifty dollar a night hotel downtown New York? He mentally ran through his bank account standings and figured he’d last less than a week before he would either have to befriend a hobo, or go home. Plus he had to eat. He tried to keep an even face as he handed over his bank card.
               
                After a shower and an hour of lying on his bed staring at his ceiling, Blaine began studying the map he had bought. He realized he was a mere stone’s throw away from Times Square. He didn’t even notice when he was outside. All the streets just looked grey. He decided to ‘treat’ himself to a night out. He grabbed a jacket and and ventured out into the night with his map and wallet. He walked in the general direction he thought he should go until he came to 7th Ave. He looked excitedly up the street, but didn’t see much but cars and normal city lights. Across the road was a giant button with a needle sticking through it over a sign that said Fashion District. While fascinating, not what he wanted. He turned north and began walking again. He was focusing so much on not getting hit by a car or run over by a pedestrian that he almost forgot to look up again. Up ahead, peering out from around a bend in the road was a tower of light. The closer he got, the more people there were surrounding him. The brighter the lights got. The more distinct all the signs and slogans came. He wished he had a camera, but didn’t know how he would even do this place justice on film.
                He was so busy looking up now, that he forgot to look where he was going. He ran straight into someone. They shot him a dirty look as he tried to back away, but ended up running into someone else behind him. His hood must have caught on their backpack because he felt a sharp tug backwards before the fabric released. He immediately began to panic. He flashed back to crashing to his knees on the side of a poorly lit street. He whirled around and made his way to the nearest wall. He stood with his back to it trying to slow his heart down. He was suddenly aware of how many people there were around him. He edged along the wall, trying not to appear crazy, and ducked down the first side street he came to. He knew doing this would probably get him lost, but he just needed to feel less claustrophobic. He walked slowly and tried to physically shake himself back to reality. Suddenly his ears perked up. Someone was playing guitar. He was sure it wasn’t wise to go rooting around in the darkness, but he needed to focus on something else right now.
                He finally found the source of the sound to be an old man sitting on a blanket trying to tune a battered guitar. A small cardboard box sat beside him with a few coins in it. As Blaine got closer he realized that the guitar playing wasn’t actually that good. He stood off to the side for a while, listening to the man try to tune the instrument. After wincing a few times, he approached gently. He tossed a few quarters in the box and stood there. The man stopped tuning, looked up, then snorted.
                “You can’t seriously be paying me for that slop are you?” Blaine wasn’t sure whether to be kind or honest.
                “I um…I can help...if you like.”
                “You play?”
                “A bit. I mean I don’t claim to be good. But I can tune.”
                The man considered him for a minute, maybe trying to decide if Blaine might just run off with it, or beat him over the head or something. But his face softened and he held the instrument out. Blaine sat cross-legged beside him and bent his ear down to make sure he heard every vibration from every string. Even if he had only learned how to do this a few years ago, he considered himself to have a good ear. Of course it was harder without a pitch-pipe or a piano, but the guitar wasn’t actually that bad. Just a few strings loose. The old man studied Blaine closely as he finished by playing a couple chords and the opening lines from Stairway to Heaven, before handing it back. As the guitar left his hands he suddenly felt sad. He had forgotten how much he missed his music and realized he would never be going back to music class at school again. The man played a few broken chords, but smiled. Blaine got up to leave, but as he was walking away the man called out to him.
                “Hey kid…come back here.” Blaine suddenly felt very wary. He again became aware of how dark it was and how the buzz of the city filled his ears. The man stood up with a large amount of effort and walked a few steps towards Blaine. They looked at each other for a moment before the man looked down again and held out the guitar. Blaine wasn’t sure what to do. Did the guy want him to play something? The old eyes began to look impatient.
                “Take it, would ya?”
                Blaine obliged, but still held the guitar at arm’s length.
                “Umm…” He started to say. The man smiled a little. A sad sort of smile.
                “I don’t have a family”, he said, and then looked down at his blanket, “obviously.” Blaine assumed this was an attempt at humour so he smiled a little, sadly, back at the man. “I’m also obviously not going to around much longer. That guitar had seen me through a lot. But my fingers and my ears aren’t what they used to be. And what’s the point of having something you can’t use?”
                Blaine was trying to follow along, but wasn’t sure he was getting it.
                “So…” Blaine looked at the guitar in his hands, not daring to fall victim to hope.
                “You have a gift, son. And you look like you need a little bit of light in your life.”
                Blaine wanted to hug the man, but thought that might seem strange. He stood quite still for a while before draping the strap over his neck and cradling the curvaceous piece of wood in his arms. There were chips and scuffs, but they all told stories. This was the most perfect, generous thing anyone had ever done for him. Ever. He slung the guitar over his back and left slowly, while profusely thanking the man.
                He walked with a new sense of purpose. He glided into the crowded streets again and headed in the direction of his hotel. But again, he was stopped by the sound of music. Not just music. Singing. Up ahead was a small crowd of people that seemed to be watching a small performance in a cove of the sidewalk. Blaine made his way over. He knew the song as soon as he heard it. No words, just beats. He pushed through the crowd to get a better view. The singing boys, about his age, with matching mops of blonde hair were belting out Trashin’ The Camp. They both wore navy canvas vests and navy long sleeved shirts with the arms pushed up. One had on jeans, the other, fitted black pants. They bounced in unison, beating their hands off various parts of their body as percussion. Their chest, their thighs, and toward the end of the song they even did a tricky sequence where they used each other’s body parts in what was almost like a clapping game that you see school girls do at sixty miles an hour. The small crowd clapped vigorously, and tossed coins into the top hat that they had set in front of them. They laughed, they smiled, they waved to the crowd like they were celebrities. One of them turned in the direction of Blaine, and then caught his eye. He turned back to his twin and pointed. Blaine froze. Were they pointing at him? Why?
                “Hey! You with the guitar! Get in here!” Blaine looked around him wildly. Everyone was staring at him. The twins beckoned him to the centre of the circle. He hesitated, but then pushed his way to the front.
                “THAT’S what we need is a guitar! I told you we needed something”, the one said to his brother. He turned back to Blaine.
                “Play something! We need a break”, they laughed. Blaine wasn’t sure if they were serious or not. All he wanted to do was go back to his room and sleep. The gift of the guitar was enough to take in for one night.
                “Umm…well, I actually just got this…so…”, he was making excuses, but part of him, deep down inside, was shouting out that he did really want to do this. He wanted to just play and play and play like he’d never had the chance to do before.  He looked up at the expectant faces around him. The crowd had thinned significantly, and people were still pushing past. It’s not like he was giving a concert. He was just playing for a few people. “Yeah I guess I can muddle my way through something” he gave a half-hearted smile to the twins, who grinned and sat down on the pavement with water bottles. Blaine adjusted his guitar and strummed a few chords, deciding what to play. He didn’t know many songs, but he could pick things up pretty quickly. He mock-tuned his instrument to kill some time trying to remember how to play something, anything. He finally settled into a steady rock beat. It dawned on him that he was also expected to sing. He could only play the opening lines so many times before it became annoying.

Go on and close the curtains
Cause all we need is candle light
You and me and a bottle of wine
Going to hold you tonight

The sound of his own voice was strange to him. It was too quiet, but he wasn’t sure he could make it go much louder. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the twins whispering to each other.

Well we know I'm going away
And how I wish, I wish it weren't so
So take this wine and drink with me
Let's delay our misery

Save tonight
And fight the break of dawn
Come tomorrow
Tomorrow I'll be gone

The twins began clapping along and soon the crowd around him began clapping to the beat as well.

Save tonight
And fight the break of dawn
Come tomorrow
Tomorrow I'll be gone

There's a log on the fire
And it burns like me for you
Tomorrow comes with one desire
To take me away it's true
It ain't easy to say goodbye
Darling please don't start to cry
Cause girl you know I've got to go, oh
Lord I wish it wasn't so

Suddenly he was aware of the twins standing on either side of him, making low beat-boxing sounds with their throats and teeth, and drumming the beat on their hips

Save tonight
And fight the break of dawn
Come tomorrow
Tomorrow I'll be gone

The crowd had become much larger suddenly. People had begun dancing.

Save tonight
And fight the break of dawn
Come tomorrow
Tomorrow I'll be gone

He played the guitar solo with the biggest grin he had worn in a long time. A very long time. He took the time to look around at all the people who had stopped to listen. Listen to him. The nobody from nowhere.

Tomorrow comes to take me away
I wish that I, that I could stay

Was it just him or was the crowd singing along?

Girl you know I've got to go, oh
Lord I wish it wasn't so

All heck broke loose. The twin started harmonizing beside him. The crowd was jumping up and down. Coins and bills fell continuously in the hat in front of them.

Save tonight
And fight the break of dawn
Come tomorrow
Tomorrow I'll be gone

Save tonight
And fight the break of dawn
Come tomorrow
Tomorrow I'll be gone

Save tonight
And fight the break of dawn
Come tomorrow
Tomorrow I'll be gone

                This was insane. People were cheering for him. People assumed he was cool. He was smiling so hard he could barely sing the last few lines of the song.

                He played the last few notes and the crowd cheered. The twins clapped him on the back.
                “That’s all, people. We’ll be back again tomorrow. All three of us!” The twin on his left turned and grinned at Blaine. Blaine smiled back, not sure of what to say. He wasn’t sure he wanted to get roped into doing this every night. But people were basically throwing money at him to play guitar. And he needed money.

                Blaine was handed a fistful of dollar bills. He felt weird accepting this money from people who, 5 minutes ago, he didn’t know.
                “Evan” said the one boy, pointing to the other.
                “Ethan” said the other boy, pointing to the first. It took Blaine a second to process the fact that the name that each boy had said, didn’t belong to them. Thus beginning a long and confusing relationship.
                “Blaine”, said Blaine.
                “You’ll come back tomorrow? Same time?”
                “Uh, yeah. Sure”
                “Unless you have plans I guess…”
                “Um no actually. I’m…I’m wide open.”

                Blaine went back the next night and they played songs for two hours. They twins were elated at Blaine’s talent and happily gave him half of their earnings that night. They sat down for a coffee afterward to talk a bit and Blaine found out that they were only a year older than him. Their parents lived on the Upper East Side, where the twins had previously resided, but since graduating they had been ‘cut-off’ financially after a series of expensive mishaps at their school. Not having any ‘job’ skills, the twins promptly began busking. It turns out that ‘cut-off’ really meant that they would have help with staying in an apartment, but no extra money for ‘shenanigans’. The twins figured that their parents just wanted the chaos that followed the two to stay outside of their home.
                “So where are you from?” Asked the one that Blaine supposed was Ethan.
                “Well…not here”, said Blaine with a bit of a laugh. “Right now I’m from the Comfort Inn on 39th.”
                “Really? Wow we just assumed you were from around here cause you had your guitar. Tourists don’t generally carry anything other than cameras.”
                “So how long are you in town?” asked Evan, taking a casual sip from his cup.
                “Well. Actually I don’t know. I showed up here two days ago on a bus, somehow convinced that I was going to manage to get a job and an apartment right then and there. But the best I could do was get a hotel for two nights. I guess tomorrow I’ll renew my room and see what happens.”
                Ethan suddenly backhand slapped his brother’s arm, while still staring at Blaine.
                “Dude! You could live with us!” he exclaimed. Evan’s eyes lit up.
                “YOU COULD TOTALLY LIVE WITH US!”
                “No, no guys, I couldn’t. You don’t even know me.” Blaine protested. He didn’t know them either.
                “You are awesome! That’s all that matters!”
                “Move in tonight! No wait, you already have your room. We’ll clean up tonight!”
                Blaine didn’t know what to say. This was ridiculous. Crazy. For one thing, Blaine Anderson had never been ‘awesome’. Blaine Anderson had never had people who looked like models for friends.

                But now, he was sharing a washing machine with them. He helped sort out the clothes all over the table while sipping his warm coffee. They started a couple loads and sat down again.
                “So Blaine, almost a year now, huh?”
                “Yeah in a month the lease is up. I guess I’ll renew, I like it here.”
                “Better than living with us?” asked Ethan in a mock-hurt tone. Evan snorted.
                “At least I get to sleep in a bit”, chuckled Blaine. Then he remembered their phone call ambush from this morning and added, “Sometimes.”
                “How’s our Pav?”
                “As birdy as ever” smiled Blaine. When Blaine had established himself enough to get his own place a year before, the twins insisted he take the bird. Blaine thought they would have crammed themselves into his apartment too if he didn’t finally insist that looking after the warbler would make him think of them enough.

                Blaine got dressed while the boys packed up their clothes.  They went to a small sandwich shop and talked non-stop about everything they could.
                None of them noticed the tall, pale, sandy haired boy who came in, ordered a coffee, and left.