Work Text:
Blaine looked up from his textbook, where he’d been idly doodling over the margins rather than reading the content for the better part of an hour, anyway. His roommate sat over by the window, perched on the ledge, his own textbook laying ignored on his lap.
It was both of their’s favourite part of the room, the ledge wide enough to sit comfortably on, the view spanning across the entire grounds of Dalton. They were the only room on that floor to have a ledge like that, big enough for the both of them, in fact. They’d cushioned the hard wood out with a few blankets and cushions, and soon it was as much of a study spot as an observation point.
Blaine could tell Sebastian’s mind was far from Middle Ages England, his hand lax where it lay curled loosely around his pen on the page. His forehead was pressed a little against the glass, a circle of condensation where his mouth was puffing out warm breath.
When Sebastian had first transferred to Dalton, at the start of that school year, Blaine had been more than a little intimidated. He was so cultured, so full of world experience that Blaine could only dream of one day getting.
Aside from being his roommate, Blaine shared several classes with Sebastian, and took it upon himself to be as welcoming and warm as they had been to him, when he’d first arrived. Sebastian had responded somewhat coolly, at first, but had gradually settled; his once frown around Blaine becoming a light, teasing grin.
He endured Sebastian’s impossibly good Math skills where Blaine fumbled over equations and mixed his x’s with his y’s. He listened to him wax poetic about Fitzgerald with all the confidence of a college student, and speak French like someone who could seduce his way out a prison sentence.
Add to that how he’d step-touched and spun his way into the Warblers with such ease, quietly threatening Blaine’s spot as lead soloist of the group, and frankly it was almost too much.
Beneath that exterior, that collected, perfected image, Blaine really did expect to find some kind of hurt, somewhere faded and resigned. He almost thought he’d found it, as Sebastian left time and time again to spend his Saturday nights out at the local gay bar, being bought an endless supply of drinks and usually getting sucked off in the bathrooms before he came back to Dalton tipsy and sated.
But when Blaine had approached the subject, with - unfortunately - about as much tact as a bulldozer, Sebastian had simply shrugged. We all need to let loose once in a while, Blaine. Especially with a curriculum as tight as this.
Blaine closed his textbook with a sigh of defeat, sliding off the bed and padding across the carpeted floor to curl up on the other end of the window seat. “You okay?” He probed gently, nudging Sebastian’s foot with his own. “You’re very quiet.”
Generally, when Sebastian was studying, it was accompanied with a certain amount of swearing, both in French and English, and the occasional wad of paper being thrown violently across the room.
Sebastian hummed, tilting his head around for a moment to look at Blaine. “I think it might snow,” he murmured in reply, turning back towards the window. There was a pause, his eyebrows furrowing a little. “It’s the first advent. I used to always spend them with my grandparents, at their apartment in the city.”
And there, Blaine found the chink. Sebastian missed Paris, he missed his home, his family, and all that went along with it. He rarely spoke of it more than a place in which he once lived, of the lights and the life and the lilt of the street performers scattered along the streets.
But he knew that Sebastian had come to Dalton following his parents’ wishes; their hope being that by finishing high school at one of the best private schools in America, he could then go on to study at an Ivy League school. Perhaps that was Sebastian’s dream too; of that, Blaine wasn’t sure.
Blaine glanced down, to where Sebastian had turned his attention to sketching something across the bottom of his textbook. Even from upside down, Blaine could tell it was the outline of Paris’ skyline, the shape of the Eiffel Tower definite and clear.
And suddenly, Blaine had an idea.
*
Sebastian walked into his dorm room, shoulders aching from the satchel full of books he’d been carting around all day. He let it fall to the floor with a thump, stretching his arms above his head as his eyes fell on the note left on his bed. He shrugged off his blazer, tugging on a warmer sweater in its place before taking the note in hand.
Follow the candles, to find la belle ville de Paris.
With a bemused sigh, Sebastian turned on his heel, opening his door to look outside. Halfway down the corridor, in the opposite direction to the one he’d come from, was a small candle. It was an electric one, fortunately, rather than a live flame; the battery powered flicker glowing at him enticingly.
He slipped the door shut behind him, the note still in his hand as he approached the candle. He picked it up, and moved forward to the corner of the hallway and- There. Another one.
So, it continued. He followed the pathways of Dalton, collecting the candles as he went - until which point that his hands became too full, and he consented himself to leaving them in a heap on a table in the left wing. He made a mental note to collect them later, lest he or the instigator of the little charade should get a lecture from a faculty member, otherwise.
The final candle led him up to the doorway to the drama department, a place he couldn’t have stepped in more than once, during his orientation. He loved to perform, yes, but acting was less his forte, by far.
He tugged the sliding door open, letting it fall shut behind him as he stepped inside the dark room. Slowly, a thousand tiny lights began to flicker on, from the left hand side of the room around to the right. The room illuminated softly, casting a glow over, first, the pile of cushions arranged in the middle of the room, and then on, to the image on the far wall.
Sebastian let out a laugh of disbelief, his feet drawing him forward. It was Paris, his Paris - a video feed of some description, blown up across the wide wall. The lights of the city sparkled at him, twinkling familiarly.
There were footsteps from the corner of the room, and Blaine stepped into view, his cheeks flushed, a small grin on his face. “Surprise,” he called out softly, gesturing around at the room. He crossed the space between them, Sebastian gazing down at him in a kind of awed shock. “Welcome home, Bastian.”
Sebastian allowed himself to be led to the cushions, flopping down onto them as he turned his gaze back onto the image. “Blaine,” he murmured finally, as the boy in question joined him on the floor. “This is incredible. I don’t even know how to begin to thank you.”
Blaine shook his head, smiling at him warmly. “No thanks necessary,” he assured him, turning and rummaging behind him to pull out a box of macaroons. “They probably don’t taste as good as the ones you’re used to, but all the same.”
The other boy chuckled, shifting to lay on his stomach on the cushions, still facing the video, before accepting a macaroon. Blaine copied his position, sneaking small glances at Sebastian, gauging his reaction.
On the screen, snowflakes began to swirl and fall, twisting through the air and merging with the lights. And right on cue came the snow in the department - snow that wasn’t really snow at all but flakes of cotton that Blaine had painstakingly sent the past three days preparing.
Sebastian gawked as the first flake hit his head, laughing out loud and rolling over onto his back to gaze up at the snow storm above his head. “Why would you do all this? For me?” he asked quietly. He turned his head to frown at Blaine, who was then laying on his back, too, at his side.
Blaine opened his mouth as if to reply, before closing it again. In truth, he wasn’t sure why he’d done it. He’d gotten the idea, and as he was prone to do, stuck with it vehemently. But every hour spent nearly slicing his fingers open with the craft knife, every second teetering on the ladder to set the projector up - all of it was worth it, for the look on Sebastian’s face.
So, rather than reply, Blaine simply pushed forward, closing his eyes and gently pressing his lips to Sebastian’s, just for a moment. Sebastian blinked a few times as he pulled back, before the corners of his eyes crinkled with his grin.
“Yeah,” he whispered, finding Blaine’s hand on the blanket and lacing their fingers together. “Me too.”