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Blaine’s hands wrapped tighter around one of the ornate rungs of the staircase, his face pressed between them as he listened to the sounds of his parents shouts echoing across the kitchen. Something slammed against the wood and Blaine flinched, biting down on his lower lip to keep from crying out loud himself.
He couldn’t stay there any longer. He couldn’t spend another evening listening to his parents talking to each other like that. It had been that way for almost a year now; but it had only gotten worse with Cooper started spending most of his nights out with his friends.
Blaine’s mismatched sock-covered feet padded down the stairs quietly, before he ducked into the alcove at the bottom, grabbing the phone along the way. He tugged the cord as far as he could and scrambled into the closet where the winter clothes were kept - should anyone walk past, they would just see the black wire stretched across the hall.
He dialed the familiar number of his best friend’s house, scrubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand as he waited.
“Hello?”
Blaine snuffled, his voice a little hoarse. “Mrs Smythe? Is Sebastian there?”
“Blaine! Honey, are you okay? You sound upset.”
“I just really want to speak to Bastian, please,” Blaine whispered, clutching the phone to his ear tightly, the cord straining under the wooden door.
It was dark in the closet, save for the strip of light filtering in through under the door. Blaine liked it in there; and he often used it as a hideaway spot, not just for calling his best friend. He wasn’t really supposed to use the phone without permission, but he knew better than to interrupt his parents during one of their disagreements.
Blaine heard Sebastian’s mom calling for him in the background, and the sound of the other boy’s feet thumping down the stairs, becoming clearer as he neared the phone.
“Blaine?”
He sighed, tucking his knees up to his chest. “I’m sorry for calling again.”
“Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault, B.”
“I just wish I could get away from here.”
There was a pause: Blaine could just hear Sebastian humming lightly under his breath in obvious thought.
“Meet me outside, at midnight.”
“I’m not sure if I’ll be allowed-”
Sebastian chuckled down the line - Blaine could easily picture his devious grin. “Sneak out, silly. And bring some of those mini muffins your mom always buys.”
*
At midnight on the dot, Blaine was waiting outside of his house. He perched on the curb, backpack at his feet. He hadn’t been sure what else to bring, save for the muffins Sebastian had requested, so at the last minute, he had added: a few juice boxes; his favourite plush toy, a dragon named Charles; and his red rain boots. As it was, he was dressed just in his Superman pajamas, with a woolen sweater thrown over the top, and fluffy slippers on his feet. Blaine wasn’t very good at dressing for surprises.
He heard Sebastian approaching before he saw him, the trundle of wheels and feet upon the concrete road, and as he came closer, the puff of his breath. Sebastian’s tongue was stuck out in concentration, eyebrows furrowed as he slowed to a halt in front of the Anderson household.
“Your ride,” Sebastian grinned, flicking his head back dramatically.
It was the miniature toy car that Sebastian shared with his younger sister - something that had been the source of many an argument over the years. It had space for two and a hole in the bottom for Sebastian’s feet, which powered the engine, as it were.
“Where are we going?” Blaine asked, although he was already picking up his backpack and moving to sit beside Sebastian in the tiny car.
Sebastian shrugged. “Wherever the road takes us.” He paused, as if he were planning to add something, before turning to Blaine seriously. “Did you bring the muffins?”
Blaine rummaged through his backpack, bringing out the packet and offering it to his friend.
Sebastian whooped and shoved a muffin into his mouth whole as Blaine shushed him and glanced towards his dark house in concern. And then, they were off; bumping and scraping down the road as fast as Sebastian’s legs could carry them, in no particular direction at all.
*
In the end, they made it as far as the park, about five blocks from Blaine’s house. They parked up by the large willow which overhung the lake; Sebastian red faced and a little out of breath. Not that he’d admit it.
“Here, drink,” Blaine urged, pressing an orange juice box into Sebastian’s hand firmly.
“I’m fine,” Sebastian protested, but accepted the drink anyway, sucking it down eagerly. “You worry about me too much,” he mumbled through the straw he was chewing on absentmindedly.
“You’re the one who came and rescued me in the middle of the night,” Blaine murmured, moving to sit down next to the lake.
Sebastian smiled proudly, moving to sit down next to him. “Because you were upset, so it was my job to cheer you up.” He ruffled Blaine’s curls playfully, in exactly that way he knew that he hated.
Blaine grumbled under his breath but just nudged Sebastian’s side in retaliation.
“And I know you’d do the same thing for me.”
Blaine looked up at him, smiling brightly. “Of course I would. I love you, Bastian.”
At the innocent age of five, Blaine knew nothing of the significance of his words. Love, to him, was what he shared with his family, and sometimes it felt as if Sebastian were his closest family member of all. It would be another sixteen years before he’d realise just how important Sebastian Smythe was to him. But that was a story for another time.
The boys soon slumped to laying beneath the tree, tucked up under Sebastian’s jacket as neither had thought to bring a blanket. Blaine had his head pressed against Sebastian’s chest, a makeshift pillow of sorts, hands curled into his shirt, eyelids fluttering as he drifted into a deep sleep.
Only then did Sebastian return the sentiment. He was more wary of love; it had never been such an acknowledged thing as in the Anderson household. Although, in recent months, it was possible he heard more of it than Blaine did, with his parents’ constant fighting.
But Blaine was different. Sebastian was the boy with the bruises on his knees and an aptitude for pushing people off the climbing frame when he felt like being alone up there. With Blaine, he wanted to be better, he wanted to be good. He wanted to help, not hinder.
Although that snotty girl with the pigtails from down the road was asking for it, if you asked him.
*
The Andersons and Smythes found their sons early the next morning, following a stressful hour of frantic phone calls. They hadn’t called the police by the time they discovered where their boys had run off to: Mrs Smythe’s report that Sebastian, too, was gone, and with the toy car of all things, had led them to believe they couldn’t be far.
They paused, sharing small smiles as they looked down upon their sleeping children, curled up together in the cool morning air. Blaine stirred slowly as his father lifted him into his arms, instantly missing the familiarity of Sebastian beside him.
“Next time you want a sleepover, kiddo,” his father chuckled, brushing his messy hair from his eyes. “Maybe you can have it in the house.”
“Mr Anderson?” Sebastian murmured sleepily, rubbing his eyes as he stood up to look at him. “It was my idea. It’s not Blaine’s fault.”
He exchanged a look with his wife; Sebastian’s parents smiling a little sympathetically. “It’s not your fault either, dear,” Mrs Anderson murmured, pressing a hand to the top of Sebastian’s head lightly. “I’m just glad he has you.”
“Dad?” Blaine asked, still half asleep against his father’s chest. “Can Sebastian come sleep over? At the house?”
“Well, it is the weekend,” he consented, waiting for a nod of approval from the Smythes before hoisting Sebastian up with his spare arm.
By the time they returned home, the two boys were both fast asleep once more, sprawled across the back seat of the car, fingers laced together tightly.