HANGING ON A TIGHTROPE

Every day, Blaine wakes up and says thanks. He’s never been much of a believer, not in God, at least, so when he says thanks it’s never addressed to a particular deity or anything like that. He is thankful, though. To something. Some entity. The thing he calls “us”, that’s Leo and him together.

He’s never been much of a believer and, if he has to be honest – and recently he took an oath to always be –, for a very long time he didn’t believe in them either. What he had with Leo, after all, always seemed so fragile, to his eyes, so feeble. Like a little ice statuette, it always seemed so easy to destroy, to melt, to break. In the end, what was it that they really had? Some shared time when they were both together in the same place. Some vague dreams of what could be, what might be when they finally got together for good. Some blind trust that everything would be alright in the end on Leo’s side. And love, yes. Love. God, was their real love. The love of the poets, Shakespeare’s love, Dickinson’s love, Wordsworth’s love. Strange fits of passion had they known. Their love, that they had, that tiny, fragile, precious thing they could curl around and protect with their bodies every time they felt under attack, clinging to it like from a rope down the side of a mountain, hoping it would keep them from falling.

They needed war as much as they needed peace. They needed peace to remind themselves how good it felt to just be together, in each other’s company, and then they needed war, somebody else trying to break them, to put them down, to shoot their love like a deer in the pasture, to remind themselves there was something worth fighting for. And they needed the reminder because of time, of course. Time, their first enemy. The few days or even hours they could spend together, and the endless weeks they spent away from one another.

How could Blaine believe in such a thing? Really believe it would survive anything? When the gaps between one moment spent together and the other swelled like a bruise after a fistfight, when they started growing apart, when coming to find one another always meant having to steal time from something else, how could such a tiny, fragile thing survive?

It just couldn’t. In fact, it broke.

Blaine knows it was mostly his fault. That’s what hiding away will do to relationships, and he knew. He knew already, because he had lived it. And yet, he could do the same to Leo. And he could because he didn’t feel like he had any other choice. If I tell him the truth, he thought, I lose him. He knew he’d have ended up losing him anyway by keep lying, but somehow it seemed like a more bearable thought. I’ll lose him, eventually, he thought, but it won’t be now. Yes, it had to never be now. It had to never be that very moment, because he couldn’t stand the thought. “Eventually” was a time that never really had a meaning. Some day was a vague day. It might as well be never.

He’d be lying if he told he wasn’t expecting it, when everything ultimately fell apart. It was in the air, making it thick and hard to breathe, and it had been for a very long time. The things unsaid, his undying fears, how sure he was Leo’d have moved on and forgot about him at some point, all those things weighted on their love, the tiny, fragile, precious, transparent thing their love had become, and it was a constant attack, one they couldn’t defend it from.

When Leo had walked out that door, in Dublin, Blaine had known. I lost him, that day finally came. It’s today.

The thought had been unbearable exactly as he had thought it would.

So, since they went back together – something Blaine honestly thought would never happen, at some point in his life –, Blaine says thanks. Every day. That tiny little thing survived, in the end, that tiny, little, fragile thing held on. That rope, keeping them from crushing downstream, got worn out, pulled and ruined and scratched and reduced to the smallest, weakest of threads, but it didn’t break. It never broke. Stubborn as they were, it kept itself together, so that when they met again they just had to tie more threads around the one that was still there, to make it stronger. They didn’t have to start from scratch.

That’s the marvelous thing about love, he thinks as he opens his eyes and focuses on Leo’s body, calm and motionless next to his own in the bed, it just refuses to die out. It’s the most obstinate of feelings, it just won’t go unless you kick it away.

Leo opens his eyes, whimpering like a child, his arms already reaching out for him. It’s the first thing he does, every time he wakes up. He makes sure Blaine’s still there. He doesn’t make a fuss, when he happens not to find him, not anymore, at least, but he still keeps doing it, and finding him or not is the difference between starting the day with a smile or with a sad frown.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Blaine smiles too, welcoming him between his arms and letting him settle on his chest.

“I thought we agreed not to celebrate it,” he murmurs, hiding his face against him and holding onto him.

“We did,” Blaine chuckles, “Then I changed my mind. I got you a present.”

Leo lifts his head and frowns, glaring at him for a moment. His hard, stern gaze quickly melts into a sweeter one, when his lips curl in a small, tender smile. “What is it?” he asks.

“The thing you want most in the world,” Blaine smiles, and he reaches out for the first drawer of his nightstand.

“New dildo?” Leo jokes, “Bad idea.”

“No, you idiot,” Blaine laughs, retrieving a couple of tickets from the drawer, “Weekend away without the children. I know you need it, at this point, it’s been more or less three months since the last one.”

“God bless you,” Leo exhales, relieved, resting his forehead on Blaine’s chest. Then he laughs. “I got you a present too,” he admits.

“What?” Blaine laughs too, searching for his eyes, “What is it? What is it?” he asks curiously.

“The thing you want most in the world,” Leo mimics him. He too reaches out for his nightstand, getting a bunch of papers out of the book he’s reading and showing them to him, “All paid trip to Disneyworld for us and the kids,” he explains, “It’s been almost a year since the last family holiday. I imagined you’d be dying for it, at this point.”

“You are perfection,” Blaine instantly says, wrapping his arms around Leo’s shoulders and squeezing him tight.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Leo smiles, leaving a small kiss on Blaine’s collarbone. “I just hope we didn’t book for the same days.”

“Mmh, our weekend is the next,” Blaine says, “I thought it had better be sooner rather than later.”

“You thought right,” Leo nods, and then smiles, “I booked the trip for this summer, I know you prefer to travel when it’s warm and sunny.”

“God, how I hate snow, and you for forcing me to live where it’s always snowing,” Blaine sighs theatrically, the hold of his arms strong and sweet enough to make obvious he’s lying, at least about the hating Leo part.

Leo just smiles, settling against him and caressing Blaine’s sides, feeling his warm skin underneath his fingertips.

“This is how it is, then,” he says in a faint, tiny, almost childlike voice.

“How it is when?” Blaine asks, passing his fingers through Leo’s black, wild curls.

“When it works,” Leo answers in a chuckle.

“Oh, yes,” Blaine nods, “It’s sappy and cheesy and generally ridiculous like this.” Then he smiles sweetly, “But I wouldn’t know, this is the first time for me too. Maybe we’re just that lucky and it isn’t always like this for everybody.”

“I like the thought,” Leo nods, closing his eyes and relaxing against Blaine’s body, “Us being the only ones this happy in the whole world.”

“Selfish,” Blaine scolds him in a little laughter.

“You know me,” Leo answers unapologetically, laughing too, “You know me,” he repeats then, more softly, closing his eyes and clinging to him.

Blaine smiles too, deciding that for today and today only they can steal time from everybody else to keep it for themselves. Tie that rope tighter for a few hours. “Yes, I do,” he answers in a low voice, “You want to sleep some more?” he asks.

But really, he doesn’t need an answer. In fact, Leo’s already sleeping.