Give Me A Chance (boyxboy)

Twenty-Eight

When I wake up, Blaine isn't beside me.

I sit up groggily, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. The sun's on my face, and it's pleasant. It's warm. It's a compliment, not an insult. I manage to smile as I sit there, hunched in my bed, in my lit up room. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, letting it out slowly and deliberately.

I throw off the blanket and swing my feet to the floor.

I spot a note on my nightstand, so I grab it and my eyes try to adjust to reading so early in the morning.

Sorry I left, I ran home to change clothes. I'll come back and pick you up in a little bit, it reads. Scribbled below, seeming somewhat rushed, is P.S. You look really peaceful when you sleep. My smile widens.

And he's signed his name on the bottom, just his first, but that's not what catches my eye. Beside his name, he drew a heart. A heart. I stare at it. Blaine. Heart. Blaine. Heart. I know I'm an overthinker, so I try not to overthink it. Which, of course, makes me overthink it. What does it mean? Probably nothing, but will my mind accept that? No, of course not. Because my brain knows what a heart means. Love. And I doubt Blaine and I are there yet, and I doubt that if he thought we were, he'd tell me like this.

It's nothing. I tell myself that forcefully. He probably just absentmindedly doodled it beside his name or did it just to prove that he can because he's my boyfriend. I don't know. But I can't torture myself thinking about it.

I fold the note twice, making a little square. I pull open the top drawer of my nightstand and place it in there. Don't really know why.

And then I have to get up. But I don't want to. Because it's Wednesday. No practice. Boring. The tournament is in ten days, we should be practicing more. Running through plays, practicing, still getting better.

But there are reasons I do want to get up. To make me want to not hit that snooze button. I mean, not that I have a snooze button. I just thought the metaphor fit the situation. I get to see my friends, my boyfriend, people that want to see me too. I know they want to see me too. And I'm okay with that. It feels good.

I head downstairs and mom's got bacon and eggs on the stove. "Morning," she says cheerily. "Sleep well?" she asks, winking. I blush and probably look like I got caught for shoplifting.

"Yes," I say cautiously, unsure what she's getting at.

"I promise," she starts. "This'll feel like home again soon. Give it time." She pinches my cheek, grabs a plate, and throws a couple strips of bacon and some eggs on it. She hands it to me. "That's what it is, isn't it?" she asks.

I nod. "Yeah," I tell her, taking a seat at the table. She turns off the element on the stove, makes herself a plate, and sits down beside me.

She looks at me, her gaze soft and caring. "Is that why Blaine was here?" she asks me, gesturing with her fork. She props her elbows on the table, and I'm reminded of where Aydin got the habit from.

I nod again. "Yeah," I say again. It's nice to admit it. "I couldn't sleep. I asked him to come," I say, hoping that if mom does disapprove, I'll take the blame, and not Blaine. "I hope that's okay."

"Of course." Mom smiles genuinely. "He's such a sweet boy, isn't he?" she says.

I think it's rhetorical, but I answer her anyway. "Yeah," I say, blushing again, more intense this time. "He is." Mom chuckles at my face.

She leans forward slightly. She looks really happy to be talking about this with me. She looks like she did before I came out. Like everything is right, everything is how it's supposed to be.