Spin-off/seguito di Leonard Karofsky-Hummel Vs. The World.
Genere: Introspettivo.
Pairing: Blaine/OMC.
Rating: R.
AVVERTIMENTI: Slash, Underage, OC, Spin-off.
- Seven hundred and thirty days.
Note: Dunque, questa storia. *ride* Ignoratela tutti. Essa è il sequel di una storia che deve ancora essere postata, ed anche il prequel di un'altra storia che deve ancora essere scritta. Blaine è Blaine, Leo è il figlio di Kurt e Dave, cose meravigliose accadranno fra queste due persone ma voi ancora non potete saperle. Questo, però, è il momento che pone le basi per tutto il resto, ed io ne sono così immodestamente orgogliosa che mi prenderei a schiaffi da sola ♥
Sì intitola come si intitola perché mi piaceva l'attacco ("it's been seven hundred and thirty days") molto simile a quello dell'omonima (splendida) canzone di Sinead O' Connor ("it's been seven hours and fifteen days"). Voi ancora non potete saperlo, ma questa canzone parla di questi due ragazzetti, e io le voglio bene come voglio bene a loro. *ride felice e si allontana dondolando*
Genere: Introspettivo.
Pairing: Blaine/OMC.
Rating: R.
AVVERTIMENTI: Slash, Underage, OC, Spin-off.
- Seven hundred and thirty days.
Note: Dunque, questa storia. *ride* Ignoratela tutti. Essa è il sequel di una storia che deve ancora essere postata, ed anche il prequel di un'altra storia che deve ancora essere scritta. Blaine è Blaine, Leo è il figlio di Kurt e Dave, cose meravigliose accadranno fra queste due persone ma voi ancora non potete saperle. Questo, però, è il momento che pone le basi per tutto il resto, ed io ne sono così immodestamente orgogliosa che mi prenderei a schiaffi da sola ♥
Sì intitola come si intitola perché mi piaceva l'attacco ("it's been seven hundred and thirty days") molto simile a quello dell'omonima (splendida) canzone di Sinead O' Connor ("it's been seven hours and fifteen days"). Voi ancora non potete saperlo, ma questa canzone parla di questi due ragazzetti, e io le voglio bene come voglio bene a loro. *ride felice e si allontana dondolando*
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NOTHING COMPARES TO YOU
It’s been seven hundred and thirty days Leonard hasn’t seen Blaine. The last time he saw him, he hated the man. And he still does. Or so he thinks. It’s just more complicated, in ways he would have never expected it to be if anybody asked him when he was six. Or ten. Or twelve. Like he was two years ago.
Blaine hasn’t changed much. He probably never will – that’s what Leonard thinks, sitting between his parents on the couch, unable to look away – he’s probably always going to be just the same. The man who comes and sticks around for not more than a couple of days and then goes away, disappearing in a memory like he never was really there. The man who’s always smiling, but whose lips are practically untouchable, because when you hold out a hand and try to brush them with your fingertips, he’s already gone.
Not that Leo wants to touch him in any way. He still finds Blaine pretty creepy, with the hypnotics way he speaks and the soft voice he uses when he talks with anybody.
Leo’s not stupid, he knows Blaine’s a charmer. That’s why he hates him, that’s what he finds awful about him the most. He looks so fake, whenever he’s chatting with anybody, because every single word he says, every single gesture, even the smallest detail, Blaine works it out just for that purpose. He wants the world to adore him, to hang on his every word, and Leo hates him for that, because, well, who does he think he is? He’s nothing special. He’s not so beautiful and he’s not so smart at all.
He’s just a charmer, a damn good one. Like his kinds, he’s got nothing more than that. And it’s not nearly as enough to fool Leo.
But it’s been seven hundred and thirty days he hasn’t seen him, and he can’t take his eyes off him.
It’s been seven hundred and thirty days Blaine hasn’t seen Leonard. Last time he saw him, the kid hated him, and he probably still does. Or so Blaine thinks. Except now it seems harder to just let go of the unpleasant feeling he always gets whenever he thinks about the way that boy feels about him. He used to shrug it off with a light laughter, but now every time he looks at him, every time he sees his frown and the way his lips curl in a mask of hateful disgust whenever they make eye-contact, he can’t help but feeling like things are going the wrong way.
He used to be alright with being hated by Leonard, because he thought he had his reasons. He still thought that way nine years ago. Or five. Or two. He still thought that way two years ago.
He wouldn’t know how to explain this if somebody asked him – and that’s why he’s happy nobody does, because nobody even notices – and it’s probably for the best that he’s not sure he would even know how to explain himself, because what he feels when he looks at the boy is so definitely inappropriate he wouldn’t even have the guts to ask himself “what the hell am I thinking?”. It’s wrong, it has to be.
Not that he would ever touch him in any way. He’s still sane enough to know Kurt would never forgive him, and Karofsky would probably kill him, and by the way he shouldn’t be thinking about this taking for granted that Leo would let him do anything. Christ, it’s not like he even wants to do anything. Leonard is just a kid, he doesn’t even look older than he really is – probably only younger, which makes everything even more weird and awkward and generally creepy.
He knows he should just look away. Sitting on his armchair, beside the big Christmas Tree Kurt decorated for the party he’s throwing and to which he invited him because he always does, Blaine should just look away, concentrate on someone else, maybe some cute guy among the other guests, someone he could invite to his own hotel, someone he could kiss and touch and fuck until dawn, to kick the mental image of that boy’s lips out of his mind, hoping it won’t surface ever again.
But it’s been seven hundred and thirty days he hasn’t seen him, and he can’t take his eyes off him.