Genere: Introspettivo.
Pairing: Blaine/OMC.
Rating: NC-17.
AVVISI: Slash, Lime, Angst, AU.
- Adam and Blaine have been together, once. It went on for a couple of years and it was intense and perfect, and then, just like a lot of other things, it was over. They, though, were not.
Note: Tutto ciò è partito con me che volevo scrivere porno, ma poi non so bene cos'è successo, ho lasciato che Blaine prendesse il timone della storia (una cosa che avrei dovuto già da tempo imparare a proibirgli!), e ciò che ne è venuto fuori è una storia depressissima sull'incapacità di superare le storie importanti una volta che sono finite. Perché l'ho fatto? Non lo so. Ma la mia scusa sarà che mi serviva una storia su prompt fisso per la missione uno della sesta settimana del COW-T, e l'argomento si prestava. Posso andare a casa adesso? Grazie. *si avvia mestamente*
All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. Original characters and plots are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.
YOU'VE GOT STUCK IN A MOMENT
and you can't get out of it

Blaine never calls, when he drops by Adam’s place. He knows he should – sometimes, when he’s already on his way for his flat, he even realizes it’s a disrespectful behavior and is tempted to grab the phone and just send him at least a text to let him know he’s coming, but then he thinks about how priceless Adam’s face will be when he’s going to see him leaning on the doorframe with a smile on his lips and his head just a bit tilted, enough to expose the neck under the leather jacket, and he thinks “what the hell”, and he never does.

Adam’s never really surprised by his visits, and this, somehow, always forces Blaine to realize how dangerous their relationship has got through the years. Showing up randomly at any time of the day and the night, especially since Adam went to college and started living on his own, Blaine basically educated him to live a life of constant expectation. Adam unconsciously has his whole life planned and organized around Blaine’s visits.

He never brings other boys home, for example. He fucks around a lot, that Blaine knows very well, and of course he’s not bothered by it – how could he, after all? He fucks around just as much –, but he never, not even once, brought his one night stands home. He always goes at their places, so if Blaine drops by he just finds the house empty and walks back home. He doesn’t have to find him with somebody else, which would be awkward and also force Adam to choose.

Blaine never wanted to put Adam in an uncomfortable position. It happened without him noticing and, when he finally realized what had happened, he also realized he wasn’t ready to give up on it, despite how fucked up the whole thing was. Still is.

So, even if he basically keeps doing whatever the fuck he wants, showing up unannounced and using all his charm to always put Adam in the right mood to give them both what he knows they both really want, he tries his best not to be too much of a bother. And, just as Adam does, he plans his days accordingly to Adam’s needs.

For example, he knows Adam usually paints non-stop from four to eight pm. He never shows up during that time window, even though he knows that, if he did, he’d find Adam in his coverall with paint smeared all over his face, hands and forearms – basically the best Adam he could possibly expect to see.

He knows it’s wrong, he doesn’t expect people to understand and he knows why Adam prefers not to talk about it. He also knows it’s inevitable, though, and he knows that if their romantic lives – both Adam’s and his – aren’t getting anywhere it’s not exactly because of this, but because this is exactly what they want, what they protect, even if keeping up with this routine means not being really able to consider any other human being enough to try and start a relationship with them.

Adam tried once, and gave up after a couple of weeks. When Blaine asked him what had gone wrong, he answered with a shrug. “I didn’t want to change anything to let him in,” he said, “He was cool, you know, he was smart, handsome, a good guy. He was fun. He wasn’t you. And it was okay, he just… wasn’t that much worth it, I guess.”

Blaine knew right away Adam’s words didn’t make sense at all, generally speaking. They did for him, though, because he felt just the same. Whenever his fantasy wandered off, like for example when he was hanging out at Scandals and he focused on some really hot guy, wondering if he might be worth a try, his brain always took less than five minutes – the exact time it needed to formulate the question “would he really be better than Adam?” and its relative answer (“no”) – to give up on it. And, more often than not, suggest him to stand up and go find Adam wherever he was.

What brings them together is not love as they know it. And they know it well, since they felt it for each other up until three years ago. Blaine loves Adam, he deeply loves him, and he’s sure Adam loves him back just the same, but it’s not the kind of love that once was.

Blaine didn’t really know that kind of love, before he knew Adam. It was sudden and violent, a rapture, the physical inability to stop thinking about him, the insatiable need for his body, the taste of his lips, his strong arms, his muscular hips. It was nothing like that kind of volatile, light as a feather attraction he felt for his one night stands, or the sweet affection he felt for his family and friends. It was a deep hunger, a deep sense of dependence that made him feel strong and powerless at the same time. Sometimes he felt he needed Adam by his side only to breathe, sometimes when he was off somewhere else it was the thought of him somewhere in the universe and his that kept him steady on his legs.

It’s hard to settle for something less than this, when you feel this kind of desperate need wither and die, and then fade away.

That’s the reason why they broke up, three years ago. Blaine came back after a trip and passed by Adam’s place to see him, and they weren’t cold with each other, they kissed and hugged and had sex as they would always do, but the hunger was gone. There was no urgency, no frantic desire to touch and bite and hold and kiss and grab and keep close to the heart.

That evening they both looked right into each other’s eyes and felt it go away. It was gone in a second, slipped through their fingers in an instant, not even leaving them the time to try and close their hands in fists to hold it.

They talked it out, because it would have been stupid not to. They admitted something was gone, they admitted they both knew it was going to happen. Their voices sounded like they had both been resigned to it happening, almost waiting for it to happen for months, already. Blaine will never forget how faint and sad Adam’s voice sounded that night. He has never heard it touch the same notes again. It was like Adam had saved that special tone for that occasion alone, and was determined not to use it ever again. Blaine has heard him sad about a various number of reasons since then, but as sad as his voice could be in any of them it never quite sounded the same again.

Blaine knows they probably should have stopped seeing each other right away, after breaking up. At least for a while. He doesn’t believe that cutting all contacts is the only reasonable solution for the end of a love affair, but now he sees it probably would have been better if he has decided to do it with Adam.

He didn’t, though. And he knows he can’t keep using ifs and buts to try and feel better about himself.

The door of the building, when he arrives there, has been left slightly open, so he pushes it and walks up the stairs to the third floor, where Adam’s flat is. He knocks quietly at the door because Adam told him that Mrs. Delbford – his neighbor – always comes out of her apartment to scold him whenever he hears him make noise.

Adam opens the door almost instantly. He’s got sleepy eyes and ruffled hair, but he smiles as he says hi and then moves away from the doorframe to let him in.

“Free night?” Adam asks him, turning to smile at him for a moment and then disappearing into the kitchen.

“Kind of,” he answers, sitting down on the couch. Adam’s favorite blanket, an old blue wool thing his mom made for him, is all rolled up in a corner, near a squared pillow with a cartoon-ish sheep stitched on the fabric. Blaine touches both the pillow and the blanket and feels the warmth of Adam’s body still lingering on them, and the sudden rush of need that twists his insides, tying them in knots, is so intense that it almost makes him cringe in pain.

He doesn’t find the guts to tell Adam he just wanted to see him. Sometimes he just does, and it’s stupid, and he shouldn’t, but he can’t help it.

When Adam comes back from the kitchen, he’s got a cup of coffee in his hand, and he’s sipping at it quickly, trying to wake himself up. He’s holding another one in his other hand, for Blaine.

Blaine looks at the cup, then up at Adam. Adam stares back at him, swallows hard, then bends over and puts both cups down on the coffee table. He stands still in front of the couch Blaine’s sitting on. Their knees almost touch, as they look at each other and do nothing else except breathe slowly in and out, like waiting for the right moment to move.

Then it just happens. Adam bends over, both arms stretched, and cups Blaine’s face in his hands, keeping him still as he presses his lips against his and kisses him deeply, closing his eyes. Blaine puts both his hands on Adam’s hips, dragging him down on the couch, and then settles under him, spreading his legs to make room for Adam’s body. Adam moans when their hips collide, and it doesn’t take him much to completely lose control over his own body.

That’s something that always happened between them, since the first time. Like the first time they kissed, for example. Should have been just a kiss, and in a couple of minutes they were half naked and up against a wall, grinding against one another, whispering all sort of things in each other ears. Blaine remembers how hearing Adam say “I wanna fuck you senseless” made him feel, he remembers the way his hands pressed against his skin, as if trying to dig underneath it to feel his flesh and bones, he remembers how powerfully Adam’s hips thrust against his own, the unbelievably strong shock of pleasure that run through his whole body when he felt him come inside him for the first time.

He remembers this, just as he remembers all the other times, the countless times they fucked their brains out for hours, as if unable to stop themselves from getting at it again and again and again no matter how many time they had come already. All the times Adam opened up for him, spread his legs, hooked them up his shoulders, begged him to fuck him harder. All the times they touched each other, so overwhelmed by the urgency they couldn’t even wait to take their clothes off, they just let their hands scramble underneath them searching for their hot, already sweaty skin.

Every time they fuck, they bring those memories back. For those twenty minutes, those memories are alive. They’re not the past, they’re now, and they still love each other like the first day.

Then they come, and Adam looks at Blaine, and there’s so much love in his eyes, so much love that it almost makes Blaine cry, but it’s not that kind of love. This is not the way they used to look at each other before. That way’s gone, lost forever, and they could go on searching for it for years, in themselves or in any other person, for that matter: they still wouldn’t be able to find it again.

Blaine holds his breath and bites at the inside of his cheek to stop the tears from falling. He manages, but that doesn’t mean that Adam didn’t see their shadow.

“I’m sorry,” he says, still buried as he is inside Blaine’s body, “Really, I’m so very sorry, Blaine.”

Blaine nods, tries a smile, lifts a hand and caresses Adam’s cheek. “I know,” he says, “I am too.”

They could say it, right now. It’d be easy, and it’s not like it would be a lie. They could say “I love you”, and it’d be the truth. They could say “let’s try again”, and it would be right. Hell, they would probably manage to pull it off, for a week, a month, a year, maybe even more. But they would eventually feel it fade away again, as they did the first time, and they don’t want to. They’re not prepared to go through that again, they’re not even sure it wouldn’t kill them this time.

So Adam slips out of him, and smiles sadly, passing a hand through his hair. “Please, stay for dinner,” he says.

Blaine laughs. “It’s almost two in the morning,” he says.

Adam laughs too. “I don’t care,” he answers.

Actually, neither does Blaine.
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