Chapter Text
When Blaine Anderson had moved to New York City four months earlier, he had been wide-eyed and optimistic about his future. New York, for all intents and purposes, is supposed to be the most energetic and awe-inspiring place in the world - and he has spent a majority of his young life counting down the days until he would finally be able to move there college. The summer after graduation, he had moved to the city with the expectation that his life would be changed for the better. Little does he know, the city would not magically make all of his dreams come true.
Living in New York City is hard. And not at all what he expects it to be.
***
“Teen Angel? I’m playing Teen Angel?” Blaine stands, indignant, in the office of Artie Abrams, the grad assistant and director of the play he had auditioned for the week earlier.
“Blaine,” Artie says, rolling his eyes as he neglects to look up from shuffling papers around on his desk. “Did you really expect to be cast as the lead as a freshman?”
“It’s an all freshman production,” Blaine points out - annoyed. “Teen Angel has only one scene. One! I had an amazing audition. I’m better than one scene.”
“Personally, I’d take it as a compliment,” Artie says with a tilt of his head. “I was being nice and saved you from swaying in the background. Now you have a one-scene solid chance to show off what skills you have to any talent agent that hasn’t seen a student production of Grease for the eighteenth-million time.”
“I was going to be in the background?!?”
“Look,” Artie holds his hand up. “Stop right there and listen while I give you a little advice. This is New York University, not some B-rate school in the middle of Indiana where you were top dog.”
“Ohio,” Blaine automatically corrects.
“Whatever,” Artie waves it off. “My point is -- yes, your voice is dreamy, and I am nothing but charmed by your wide-eyed innocence and naivete. But, honestly, when looking for a Danny Zuko, we were looking for someone who embodied raw, animalistic sex appeal, and frankly, you remind me of my gay grandfather.”
“Okay, but you still cast me as Teen Angel,” Blaine grumbles. “That’s not completely void of sex appeal.”
Artie looks unimpressed. “He’s a hallucination of a teenage girl, who’s shallow and obsessed with her hair. I’m sure you’ll be a hit with the drag queens.”
“You did not just…” Blaine storms out of the office before he really says something not nice.
He doesn't think the day could get much worse.
It does.
***
He has a date for that afternoon.
It ends up being less a date and more so giving a sloppy blow job to a guy whose last name he doesn’t even know, while he receives a rushed hand job that barely feels worth it. Apparently, that is all you get from dating apps on his phone these days.
The sun has not even set by the time he is putting his pants back on.
“So, uh… I guess, um, call me… maybe?” Blaine scribbles his number on a napkin on the bedside nightstand, knowing likely it would be thrown away the minute he left.
“Yeah, sure,” the guy says with a shrug. “I owe you one hell of a sucking-off.”
Blaine feels a little sick as he leaves the apartment.
***
When Blaine gets home, he is shocked (though he shouldn’t be) to find his roommate Sam half-naked and making-out with a blonde woman he has never seen before. He isn’t sure which is more frustrating - the fact that Sam is groping at her bare breast, or the fact that this is at least the fifth time he has witnessed Sam show off his lean, athletic, god-so-annoyingly attractive body while doing a sexual act since he had moved in a month earlier.
“Oh, my god, Sam!” Blaine says, trying to shield his eyes as he came in.
“Yo, dude, I didn’t know you were going to be home so early,” Sam says, sitting up. The girl does not seem to mind Blaine being there, and curls up against Sam. “I thought you’d be sulking around the city like you usually do in the evenings.”
“What? I don’t sulk…” He drops his hands for a moment, only to see a flash of the blonde’s breasts. Gross.
“Sam, are we having a threesome?” the blonde asks. “If I had known that, I would have prepared.”
“Dude, Blaine’s gay,” Sam responds, simply.
“Well, that should make it more fun while you pleasure each other,” the blonde says. “Usually when it’s a threesome, it’s two girls and a guy. And I don’t mind because I enjoy lady parts. But I would like to see what happens when two penises touch.”
Surreal. “Okay… I’m going to go do my homework. In my room. And not have a threesome with the two of you. Is Tina home?”
“No, she’s at some study group. I don’t know - I only half-listen when she speaks,” Sam says. He shot up so that he could whisper a question into Blaine’s ear. “Hey, man, this might sound a little weird but, like, can I borrow a condom?”
“I’d prefer you to keep it,” Blaine deadpans.
“Huh?”
“They’re in the top drawer of the bathroom vanity.”
“Thanks, man,” Sam says, giving him a pat on the shoulder. “I really owe you one.”
“Yeah, could you, maybe, not have sex on my grandmother’s couch then?”
Sam laughed nervously. “We, um, kinda already did.”
Blaine grimaces.
“But, dude, we’ll totally clean up the mess.”
“Sure, whatever,” Blaine says - heading straight for the kitchen to grab a bottle of champagne he had been saving for a special occasion.
Well, the special occasion happens to be to forget this day even happened.
***
With most of the bottle gone, homework is proving hard to accomplish. It doesn’t matter -- Blaine isn’t in the mood. Today sucks. Life sucks. The city sucks. God….
And then his brother calls.
Cooper Anderson doesn’t just call you up - he FaceTime’s you - to be sure that he has your full attention.
“What?” Blaine asks, when he answers the call.
Cooper’s face lights up on screen. “Blainey! Is that really any way to talk to your one and only brother?”
Blaine doesn’t have to look at the screen to tell his brother is pointing into the camera. “Is there a reason you dared grace me with your presence?”
“I am glad you asked,” Cooper breaks out into a huge grin. “I am happy to announce that Rebecca and I have finally set a date.”
“Whoopie.”
“Ah - you wound me, brother,” Cooper scoffs at his indifference.
“It’s not like it’s the first time you’ve had a date,” Blaine says. His brother has been engaged for nearly two years. They have been through three different dates. Blaine is not sure that Cooper even wants to get married - he just likes making the grand announcements.
“Well, it’s happening, dear brother, and you will get to play best man to my groom, this February fourteenth,” Cooper says, in grand and dramatic Cooper-fashion.
“Valentine’s day?” Blaine groans. “Isn’t that a little tacky?”
“Rebecca says it’s romantic,” Cooper says. “I can understand how someone unromantic, such as yourself, would find it hard to understand someone romantic, such as myself. So, let me tell you everything we’ve got planned. We start out -- think grand, sweeping pan shot like the opening of that laundry commercial I did with the boys who played soccer ....”
Blaine pours himself the last of the champagne.
***
Two hours later, Blaine finds himself in his bed, sipping the tequila he has found in the cupboard straight from the bottle, as he rewatches the finale of The Bachelorette from his computer.
“Why, Tracey, why??” Blaine calls out to the pretty brunette on the screen. “I know that Chad and his pecs and his muscles and his X-Games championship medal are all appealing, but are you really building a life for yourself…?”
He might be a little tipsy, but at least he doesn’t feel the sting of loneliness and failure that he had been feeling earlier.
“Jake clearly is the better choice…” Blaine says, as if the people on the screen could actually hear them. “I mean, I get that he’s boring. So boring. Like, totally boring. But he’s an accountant and will be able to support your budding career as an animal stylist. And don’t you give in to the haters. You go live your dreams girl. But not with Chad…”
Blaine lets out a little whine as Tracey gives the rose to Chad.
“Why does the world always have to be so cold and cruel?” he cries as he takes another sip of his drink, not able to hold back tears any longer. He can barely taste the alcohol anymore and he is not sure if that is a good thing or not. “This is not what you wanted… you wanted so much more for your life, like a stable job and a man who loved you and not hot roommates who grope women’s breasts. Gross. Breasts. Tracey, you deserve all the best in the world, you deserve it. You are special and one-of-a-kind and if no one else believes in you - because Chad’s gonna dump your ass by the time the reunion show comes along - then know that I do. I believe in you. And your dream of one day being married and feeling special and living your best life. A toast to you, Tracey, and all of us who want more for their life.”
And then, he opens up his own social media accounts -- Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, that Tumblr account he uses to fanboy over Marvel films, his show choir chat room, the TikTok app he doesn’t really know how to use, all of the social media -- and makes an announcement. Later he will not be sure why he did it. Maybe the alcohol, maybe the isolation of being a small person in a big city, maybe serendipity, but in a (somewhat desperate) move to make himself feel better, he announces the same thing on all the platforms:
CONGRATULATIONS TO ME - I AM ENGAGED!!!!