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The air smells like very expensive incense, but also quite distinctively of barbecue on a beach, which is a very unusual combination.
Leo has been crossing the lines between the universes long enough now to look for the signs, and smells are some of the strongest ones. Sometimes the only thing that shifts between one world and the other is him, or a version of himself, and nothing else. This phenomenon changes the environment around him, of course. For example, there are different photos scattered around the house. A mug turns blue. A set of dumbbells shows up where a bookcase had been. But these changes are so subtle that it takes a moment to register, sometimes they don't register at all.
But smells are a different thing entirely.
Your house has a very specific smell, unique to your home and your home alone. You get so used to it that you go noseblind after a while. So the moment that smell changes, you instantly feel it. And when you cross universes, the smell changes right away, exactly as if you'd take a step in a brand new house that is not yours.
When it happens today, he's sitting on the couch reading the corrections his editor Mark has done to the third editing of his latest book and sent back to him with a note on a brand new lime green post-it saying, For the love of all that is holy, get chapter 22 right or I'm going to set fire to the whole book. There's nothing wrong with said chapter, except that it is a bit too spicy for the publisher's guidelines, so Mark asked him to tone it down a notch. Leo disagrees with it – on the ground that he didn't write a very explicit scene, he's just very good at making clear what's happening – and so the whole editing process has become a very intense session of tug-of-war between him and Mark. At this point, there's really nothing else to change except for that chapter, and they keep sending each other the same manuscript back and forth with one single comma changed just for show.
The smell of incense is very unusual and triggers him immediately. Neither him nor Blaine are very incense-y people. And even Timothy, who's definitely not a smelly teen – he's Blaine's son through and through and he would rather die than leave the house while being less than perfect – he's more the jock kind who drenches himself in very expensive perfume than the spiritual awakening teen who preaches world peace by smelling like patchouli.
Leo drops the manuscript on the couch and follow the sweet smell of incense out the living room and into the dining room. As he crosses the double-door, he can feel the familiar shiver of another reality settling in. The shift had already happened, but his acknowledgment of it fixes it in place. Only then he realizes that he's standing in a brand new room that's not and never has been part of his own original house. It's some sort of covered veranda, or an interior porch of sort. One of those aesthetically pleasing spaces that you see in interior design magazines and that make your house more expensive just by existing.
A complete set of garden furniture has been moved to the side against one of the three glass walls. Among a jungle of house plants and tiny zen waterfalls that makes the room look like one of those pixel art terrariums, right at the center of the wooden floor, there's a strip of hot coals that takes up the whole length of the room. The setting is so meticulously arranged that there are outdoor torches at both the beginning and end of the path, a scene straight out of the initiation ceremony of Island Fever, which incidentally is one of the very few reality shows he actually despises with a passion.
“Alright, I think I'm ready. I feel—oh no! Not you!”
In any other circumstances, Leo would probably be offended by such a greeting, but this is the only case where the corners of his mouth turn upwards hearing those words. “I'm happy to see you too,” he says, taking a few steps in. “You are always so charming when you welcome me.”
Right in front of him there's Blaine—more precisely, a version of his husband that he affectionately calls Hollywood Elite Blaine. This Anderson never worked on Broadway and went straight to the big screen, where he became world-wide famous at twenty-two and then he proceeded to ascend to stardom where he has remained totally undisturbed for the past twenty-five years. He met Lea – Leo's counterpart in this universe – when she was a teen, but they agreed to live separate lives, until they found each other again after Blaine had three children from two different women. Leo finds this whole story fascinating, especially because this one is the only straight Blaine he has ever met. A rarity. Like a shiny Pokémon.
Unfortunately, Hollywood Blaine doesn't like him at all.
“Why are you here?”
Leo sighs. “For the same reason I always am, some other us somewhere fucked up and now the universes are trying to fix the problem.”
“Still with this multiverse nonsense, I see,” the man goes on, nervously. “Well, you can't stay here. I need Lea. It's very important.”
Leo knows better than to insist on the fact that he has no real power over when and how he will be sent back to his own timeline, because he has had this conversation with him several times already. At least the man has not started screaming bloody murder like he usually does when he sees him. Leo considers this progress.
“What is it that you're doing anyway?” Leo nods towards the coals on the floor that are burning a nice red. “Are you preparing for a part?”
“In a way,” Blaine says, and then he stops to stare at him with his hands on his hips for the longest moment.
Leo waits for a while, thinking the man might be looking for the right words. But he just stands there, looking at him, which at some point starts to feel awkward. “Are you having a stroke or what?”
“I was just waiting for you to disappear,” Blaine explains. “Sometimes you do that.”
“And you wanted to stand still until I did?” Leo closes his eyes, praying the universe for patience. “I swear to God, you're a little bit more stupid every time I see you.”
“It was worth a try!” Blaine frowns. “I really need her here right now. I need to do this in five minutes.”
“What would she do? Hold your hand?!”
Blaine shrugs. “Well, sometimes,” he confesses, shamelessly.
“Well, I could do that,” Leo shrugs. He has done weirder things than hold his husband's hand after all.
Blaine extends both arms in front of himself. “No! You don't touch me!”
This Blaine is quintessentially the original one, like all the others – they are made of the same material on a subatomic level after all – but he's also one of the farthest from the original. He's so insecure, scared, and inconsistent that to Leo's eyes, he almost doesn't register as a version of his husband.
“First of all, ouch! That's homophobic,” Leo comments. “Secondly, I was just trying to help you.”
“You would be very helpful if you would just bring her back!”
Leo takes a deep breath and counts to ten, lest he starts screaming his head off, and he's very proud of himself for keeping himself calm. “I can't do that, Blaine,” he repeats once more. “So if you need to do this, it's either you let me know what I can do for you or you don't do it.”
Leo stares at this man who looks like his husband and acts as if his husband had been knocked on his head when he was a baby. It's incredible how clear it is to him that this is not his Blaine. Even if he couldn't see the almost invisible physical differences between the two – this Blaine's fit, but it's mostly show, and his posture is barely sufficient, but the moment he forgets it, his hips get a little bit heavier. The real Blaine is flawless. He's almost fifty and his abs can make the angels cry in joy – even if they were standing next to each other, dressed the same, this alternative Blaine would stand out to him like a sore thumb.
“Fine,” he gives in. “You can help.”
“Great!” Leo claps his hands and gets closer. “What am I looking at? Are we sacrificing virgins? Is it a medical procedure? Are you trying out to be the next Indiana Jones or something?”
“This is a purification rite,” Blaine explains, as he rolls his shoulders in an attempt to get to the level of relaxation he was before Leo came into the room, but in half the time. “I always perform that after I've finished shooting a movie and I'm about to start another one. It helps me let go of a character and embrace the new one. Don't I do that in your world?”
“No, you actually know how to act in my universe,” Leo sighs, pulling up his sleeves. It's really hot in the room with the coals and everything, but he doesn't dare to take off his hoodie, lest it gets stuck in here when he disappears, destroying the fabric of time and space or whatever. “So, what do I have to do?”
“You need to believe in me,” Blaine says, in absolute seriousness.
“As in, if I don't, you'll drop dead and I'll need to clap my hands?”
Blaine rolls his eyes. “Can you be serious for once in your life, kid? See, this is the consequence of keeping you close, instead of letting you have your own experience during your formative years.”
“Hey, don't go there, okay?” Leo frowns. “Let's keep away from discussing situations we lack any proper knowledge of.”
“I'm just saying.”
“Well, just say something else,” Leo retorts.
“Alright, I'm ready,” Blaine nods, jogging a couple of times on the spot at the very beginning of the coal strip. “I need you to say it. Chant it.”
Leo really needs to push himself through his desire of punching him in the face and peacefully waiting for the universe to take him back. He takes a deep breath and then he goes, “I believe in you,” he says.
“Louder. And a little more convincing, please,” Blaine instructs him.
“I believe in you,” Leo raises his voice, and then he decides that it doesn't have to be the truth about this specific Blaine, does it? It just needs to be a more generic truth. So he taps into his feelings for his own Blaine and smiles. “I believe in you. I know you can do it. Just let go of what you have done so far. It was perfect. It was more than enough. It was what it was required of you and more. Now you can let go.”
As he speaks, Blaine steps onto the strip and he starts walking. The coals are burning, but there's no live fire underneath it, so it's just a matter of keep moving quickly until the end.
“Come on, Anderson! It's time to reach the other side and find out what other adventure awaits you!” Leo goes on, now with enthusiasm. “Get there! The world is holding his breath for your next masterpiece. Come on!”
A couple more steps and the hot coal strip is over. Blaine jumps and cheers as Leo hoots together with him. For one single glorious moment they are both so exhilarated that they hug tightly, patting each other's back as if they had just landed the first spacecraft on Jupiter. “You did it!” Leo hugs him, and when he does, there's such intensity between them for a moment that he feels the need to back off a little. “I mean, uh... Good job!”
“Thanks,” Blaine clears his throat. “You—You too.”
Leo is expecting the universes to click back into their rightful places back again any minute now, because that is what usually happens. He looks around for a message from the original Blaine or Lea herself – that is what they do whenever the switch happens between places where it happened before or with people that already now everything – but there's nothing. He grabs a marker from his back pocket and he starts scribbling on the glass.
“She's a food critic. What do you do?”
“Hm? Oh, I'm a writer,” Leo smiles at him through the reflection as he draws a tiny heart at the end of the sentence. “And I love cooking. See? We have a lot in common.”
“It's not the same with your Blaine, I gather?”
Leo shrugs. “That's not exactly true. You're both very driven and you're both actors,” he says, counting on his fingers. “Which is a very strong constant, by the way. Unless is a completely different world, Blaine always is an actor. And you're always very considerate of me. You always—you always want what's best for me. It doesn't always work out the best way, but... mostly, it does.”
“And have you met them all? All the Leos and Blaines, I mean.”
“Oh no, that's impossible. The possibilities are literally endless,” Leo explains. “Any choice generates a new instance. Sometimes it's just a matter of going right in one universe and left in the other. Sometimes that simple difference changes the course of the whole story. But I've seen a fair share of them and there's always something inside each one of us that makes us very similar. Sometimes it's stronger than others, but it's still there.”
Reality flickers for a moment, but Leo is the only one who feels it. Someone starts to write a response underneath his sentence on the glass. “What?” Blaine asks.
“It's about to happen again. She's going to be here soon,” Leo reassures him. “Are you alright? Did you do everything you were supposed to?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“You know, I meant what I said earlier,” Leo says as he feels the ripple of time settling through his body. “I do believe in you. Always, and everywhere.”
He doesn't hear the answer, but he sees the smile and that's enough.