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Pulling out his cellphone, Blaine watched Trent dance across the floor with Sarah in his arms. The girl was still fussing – quite loudly – at his best bud, not that Trent was paying any attention to her tirade. His friend’s eyes were firmly focused on him. There was no mistaking the message in those green eyes, nor in the way he had touched his face earlier.
Blaine traced the tips of his fingers over his cheek with one hand while hitting speed dial with the other. He knew his sister would be waiting to hear if he’d found the courage to share his feelings with Trent.
"Girls Just Wanna Have Fun Emporium. Angel speaking."
Seeking a quiet spot, he stepped closer to the deserted bleachers. "Hey, it's me." His sister's laughter came over the line loud and clear.
"You scored!"
He pulled the phone away from his ear and stared in amazement at it for a few seconds. "How in the hell do you know?" he asked once he returned the phone to his ear.
"Brother Blaine, I can hear your smile all the way over here."
He looked across the dance floor and found Trent flashing him a thumb's up sign. He acknowledged his friend with a shy smile and a nod before answering his sister. "I guess you could say I scored. Trent wants to meet me at the treehouse so we can talk."
"I take it it's going to be a good kind of talk?"
Blaine touched his cheek again, wondering for the umpteenth time what good deed he had done that would have influenced the angels to fulfill his greatest wish. "Yeah. I'm pretty sure it'll be a good talk." Angel went quiet for a second, prompting him to ask, "You still there?"
"Do you know if Dad bought new batteries for the camcorder?"
"Angel Matthews! Don't you dare think about spying on me and Trent."
Angel laughed. "Oh come on, Big Brother. I gotta get a picture of you and Trent kissing. Just think of the blackmail potential."
"Angel! Don't make me hurt you."
Blaine motioned to Trent, indicating he was heading out. The younger boy waved a hand at him before returning his attention to his date and escorting her off the dance floor. He frowned slightly when Trent was forced to detour around Doug Hutchinson and fan club, the group of boys laughing and making faces as they flipped Trent the bird behind his back. "Angel, I'm serious. This talk is really important to me, and I don't want anything to screw it up."
Angel laughed again. "Don't get your underwear in a knot, Bro. You know I'm just kidding. I want the two of you together just as much as you do. You guys are a perfect match for each other, and I wouldn't do a thing to jeopardize that. Although…." His sister paused. "If Trent does anything to hurt you, I promise you, Blaine, I'll kick his ass into orbit."
Ignoring the rude gesture aimed at him by Doug, he turned his back on the group of idiots and prepared to leave for home. "I doubt you'll have to do any ass-kicking, Angel, but thanks. I do appreciate your support." He pushed through the doors at the rear exit of the gym. "I'm leaving now and should be home in a few minutes. Not only do I want to get out of this monkey suit, but I thought I'd grab some snacks to take up in the treehouse."
"I'll fix something for you," Angel offered. "That way all you'll have to do is grab it on your way out."
"You're the best, Sis. See ya in a few." He snapped his phone shut and slipped it in the inside pocket of his jacket. Fishing for his keys, he strolled across the parking lot, whistling his favorite ‘Coldplay’ song. His name was called out just as he unlocked the door to his midnight blue Toyota Tacoma.
"Matthews."
With a smile on his face and Trent's parting words echoing through his mind, he turned to greet the person walking toward him.
+++++++
"Don't tell me he forgot the snacks?" Angel looked at the tray of untouched sandwiches and cold drinks she had prepared for her brother. "I swear that boy forgets everyone and everything when Trent is around." Giggling, she picked up the tray and headed out the back door. "I guess it must be truuuue love."
She reached the base of the great oak that was home to the family's treehouse. The light from the back patio fell across the lower part of the ladder that led up the tree, and she stopped abruptly, the tray of snacks falling to the ground when she saw the bloody handprints on the wide wooden rungs.
"Mom! Dad!" she screamed before scrambling up the ladder and finding her brother crumpled on the floor of the treehouse. A wave of nausea hit her at the sight of Blaine's bloodied face, and she clapped her hand over her mouth in an attempt to keep from throwing up.
"Blaine, Blaine. Can you hear me?" Swallowing the bile that had risen in the back of her throat, she gently turned her brother over, her heart shattering when she saw how badly he’d been beaten. His starched shirt was ripped, the torn strips covered with blood and, even in the dark, she could see the cuts and bruises on his arms and chest. Both sleeves were missing from his tux jacket, and it appeared his trousers had been slashed repeatedly with a knife.
"Oh my god," she whispered while shakily trying to clean the blood off Blaine's face, using the hem of her t-shirt. "I'm going to kill whoever did this to you." She brushed the matted hair out of his face. "Blaine? Can you hear me? Who did this to you?"
She nearly screamed with fright when her brother reached up and grabbed the neckline of her shirt. He coughed several times, the blood in his mouth splattering her face as he attempted to answer her. "The… the dance… parking lot. Drove… drove home. Had to get home."
Blaine attempted to push himself upright but fell back, hitting his head on the wood planks and groaning in agony. "Trent," he said hoarsely. "He's…." His eyes rolled back in his head as he slipped into unconsciousness.
"Trent did this to you?" Angel asked in disbelief. Her words of protest died on her lips when she saw her brother had passed out. Rushing to one of the treehouse's windows, she once again screamed for her parents. "Mom! Dad!" A noise from behind caught her attention, and she looked over her shoulder and found Trent standing just inside the doorway staring at his blood-stained hands.
"You sick bastard!!"
+++++++
Blaine twisted his head to the side and burrowed his face in the pillow. His head hurt like shit and the loud snoring in his ear didn't help matters, whatsoever. Hell, his whole body felt like someone had parked an 18-wheeler on top of him and forgotten to move it. He thought about slapping whoever was snoring but the slightest movement of his right arm made him want to puke and, all of a sudden, he decided he could live with the snoring.
"Blaine?"
Somebody had grown a new crop of cotton in his mouth, and it took him several seconds before he could speak. "Would… shit! Would someone get Dad to… to stop snoring? It's giving me a fucking headache."
A chuckle greeted his grouchy complaint. "It's not Dad, Blaine. It's Trent."
Trent? Snoring? In his ear? Groaning, he forced his eyes to open and, even though his eyesight was blurry and his field of vision severely limited, he could still recognize the head of curls resting just beneath his chin.
"Trent," he croaked. A straw was gently placed against his lips, and he drank thirstily for several seconds.
"Trent hasn't left your side since they moved you to a room four hours ago, big brother. In fact, it's a toss-up as to who bullied the ER staff the most, Dad or Trent. Both of them were quite loud in their demands to see you."
"Hospital? Angel?" Blaine blinked until his sister's face slowly came into focus.
"I was wondering when you were going to make the connection." Angel returned the glass of water to the table by the bed before holding a hand in front of his face. "How many fingers, Handsome?"
"Very funny. Where's Mom and Dad?" Blaine moved his head just enough to allow him to bury his nose and mouth in the softness of Trent's curls. Silently cursing the pain that ripped through his chest, he inhaled deeply, savoring the fresh shampooed scent of his best bud's hair. He wanted so bad to sink his fingers in those curls that he was seriously considering the risk of moving his arm. Just as he was about to bite the bullet, he realized his sister was still talking to him. "Huh?"
His sister shook her head and rolled her eyes as she tapped a finger against his forehead. "The ER doc said there was no brain damage but maybe I should get him to check you over again."
"Smartass."
"Now that's more like it." Angel carefully slid a finger across his bruised cheek. "As I was saying, after Dad finished talking to the police, he took Mom home. With her being pregnant, he said it was too much for her to be hanging around here all night. He'll be back as soon as he tucks her safely in bed." She traced the dressing that covered his busted chin. "I'll hitch a ride with Trent's dad when he comes to take him home."
"Ain't leaving."
"Blaine! That growth on your chest just spoke. Alert the media!"
Trent flipped Angel the bird, then eased off the bed and stood staring down at him. "How ya doing, Budman?" Trent asked, his voice still husky with sleep.
Blaine couldn't believe how the pain seemed to disappear the moment Trent slipped a hand into his. He lifted his gaze to the younger boy's face and frowned when he saw Trent's black eye and swollen nose. "Maybe I should ask how ‘you're’ doing. Who the hell gave you that shiner?"
Blaine swore he saw a blush take possession of Trent’s face before the teenager ducked his head. “Uh, Angel?”
His sister started whistling while easing toward the door.
“Angel?”
His sister cleared her throat and quietly confessed, "I hit him."
"What? You what?" Blaine tore his gaze away from Trent's glowing face to search for his sister. "Why in the fuck would you hit Trent?" Gritting his teeth against the pain in his shoulder, he touched a finger to his friend's bruised eye. "I can't believe she hit you. Did you forget to duck?"
Trent grinned and then cursed when the smile re-opened the split on his bottom lip. "She came at me out of nowhere, hissing and scratching like a wild cat. Before I could even move, she laid one on me."
"Hey! It's not my fault." Angel crossed her arms over her chest. "If you want someone to blame," she said to Trent, "blame big brother. He's the one who said you beat him up. I was just defending him." She lifted her chin in the air.
Blaine shoved Trent to the side so that he could see his sister better. "You seriously thought Trent did this to me? It was Doug Hutchinson and his buddies."
Angel blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. "I know that now. But back at the treehouse, when I asked who hurt you and you said Trent and then he shows up with blood on his hands… what was I supposed to think?"
"I never said Trent beat me up."
"Yes, you did."
"There was blood on the hood of Blaine's truck and I touched it," Trent said in his own defense.
Blaine was too mad at his sister to pay any attention to his friend’s quiet remark. "No, I didn't!"
"I know what I heard, Blaine Matthews, and you said Trent."
"Read my lips. I. Did. Not!"
"Listen, you… umph."
Blaine stared disbelieving at the sight of Trent slapping a hand over Angel’s mouth. Whoa! Was his best bud living dangerously tonight or what?
"Will the two of you shut up!” Trent loudly insisted. “It don't matter, anyhow."
Angel jerked her head back and glared at the two of them. "I'm going to get a Coke," she suddenly announced. Spinning on her heel, she exited the room but before anyone could say anything, she poked her head back in and declared, "You did say Trent's name. So there!" Having had the last word, she disappeared from sight.
Trent moved closer to the bed and, once again, sought out his hand. "Your sister is certifiably nuts."
"Tell me something I don't know." Blaine pulled Trent's hand to his chest and closed his eyes, taking a moment to enjoy the simple contact.
"You hurting, Budman? You need me to call the nurse?"
Blaine opened his eyes at the gentle rubbing of his arm. "I'll survive."
Silence reigned for a while as the two of them just looked at each other, their eyes communicating what they couldn't say with words.
"Uh, Blaine?" Trent hooked a finger on the neckline of his hospital gown and pulled it down, playing with the scattering of chest hair revealed. "I don't know for sure if you did or didn't call my name before you passed out in the treehouse, but I do know you were saying it in the ER. You kept saying it over and over, like you needed me, wanted me to be there."
Blaine looked down at his chest, his gaze focused on the finger touching him. He frowned when Trent jerked his hand away and stuffed it in his pants pocket. He automatically reached for Trent's hand but at the sight of the returning blush staining his friend's cheeks, he let his own drop back on the bed and groaned softly when the move jarred his injured shoulder. "I'm sorry if that embarrassed you or made you feel weird. I was kinda out of it and didn't know what I was doing."
Trent turned to the side and seemed to be examining the painting hung near the window. Blaine swore he heard his friend whisper, "I kinda liked it." Before he could fathom that statement Trent turned back to face him, moving so quickly he nearly stumbled over his own feet.
"Not that I wanted you to get beaten up so that I could hear it,” Trent frantically explained. “I mean…."
Blaine willing gave over his hand to another finger-crushing grip.
Trent continued. "I thought it was kinda cool, you calling for me but no way in hell…."
"Trent! It's okay. I know what you mean." Blaine grinned at the babbling teenager, his smile decidedly turning into a grimace when his body abruptly reminded him that the pain medicine given in the ER was wearing off. "You mind hitting that nurse call button? The pain's starting to kick my ass."
Trent did as he was asked and relayed the request when the call was answered. He stood as close to the bed as possible, moving away only long enough for the nurse to give the medicine and do a quick assessment. As soon as she was finished, Trent resumed his post, his green eyes doing their own personal evaluation.
"You were damn lucky, Budman. No broken bones, no internal damage. Just that dislocated shoulder, a concussion of sorts and a shitload of cuts, bumps and bruises."
"Ain't that enough?" Blaine shifted in bed, trying to find a comfortable position. "I think the only spot on my body that doesn't hurt is my left big toe."
Grinning, Trent wiggled his hand under the covers at the foot of the bed and pinched the pain free digit. "Can't have your brain feeling left out."
"You dickhead," Blaine laughed.
"Takes one to know one."
Trent's innocent comeback stopped his laughter cold and he moved slightly away, sighing quietly as he turned his face to the wall. "You know, Trent, considering what happened tonight, maybe you should forget what I said earlier at the dance. I think it might be for the better."
"Better for you or for me?"
A gentle tug on his ear had him turning back to face his friend.
"I'm gonna be honest, Budman. I'm chicken-shit scared about what I'm feeling for you and can't even begin to understand how it's gonna affect me and my life."
Trent held up a hand, stalling any and all protests. "But as scared as I am, I know getting together with you, being your boyfriend or whatever the hell it is you call it, is the one and only choice for me."
Trent cupped the side of his face and thumbed away the solitary tear that had escaped down his bruised cheek. "I think I love ya, Blaine. And yeah, I don't know squat about doing it with a guy. But I can tell you this, once I learn, you can bet your ass, you'll be the best loved boyfriend in this whole U S of A. In fact, there's no time like the present."
Blaine hid his smile at the unintended pun Trent had just made. Bet his ass, indeed.
Trent took a seat on the edge of the bed, a wicked smile spreading across his face. Blaine wasn’t sure he liked that smile.
“Trent? What’s going on in that noggin of yours? I’m kinda out of commission at the moment, remember?”
Trent scooted closer. "Don’t worry. We’ll start slow and easy. Maybe just some, oh I don’t know, how ‘bout just some, uh … kissing?"
Ignoring the way his heartrate just broke the speed barrier, Blaine gripped Trent by the shoulder, preventing him from moving closer. "You sure about this? Are you absolutely, one hundred percent sure about this?"
His hand was easily dislodged, and he gasped when Trent closed the distance between them, lowering his head so that their lips were nearly touching.
"I'm so sure, I'm gonna go back and get that Mr. Samuels to put your initials on my tattoo. Like you've got mine on yours."
Startled, he could only stare up at Trent.
“Is that sure enough for ya, Budman?” his friend asked. “If not, I could always get the old geezer to give me a new tattoo. Maybe something on my chest, something like… ‘100% Gay for Blaine.’ Or better yet, something on my butt that says… ‘Property of Blaine Matthews.’ How's that for being sure?"
"You are such an asshole." Blaine finally gave into the temptation and carded his fingers through Trent's curls.
"As of right now, I'm your asshole." Trent blushed before sealing his promise with a shy, hesitant kiss.
Blaine smiled as he returned the kiss, the simple contact of their lips more than he ever dared hope for. "Oh yeah, most definitely. Most definitely mine, Trent Anderson."
To be continued…