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Blaine/Tina What if
Blaine knows that in another life, Tina would have been perfect for him.
If he wasn’t gay, he would have fallen in love with how soft her hair is and how smooth her skin is and the tinkle of her laughter after every joke he tells. He would have fallen in love with her wide, genuine smile and the way her eyes seem to sparkle when he’s talking to her or when she gets excited.
He would have fallen in love with the pitch-perfect chime of her soprano or the ease with which her body does choreography.
He would have loved to map that body himself, examining the muscles under the curves of her legs or the gentle waves of her hips and waist.
In another life, he would write her a hundred little love letters and sing duets with her every day and take her out for her favorite Thai food and buy her cough drops and ice cream when she’s sick. He would take her to see Jesus Christ Superstar in Columbus and drive around with her late at night when they would both just need some time to escape.
But Blaine falls asleep thinking about bright blue eyes, not soft brown ones. He dreams of a thinner, longer body holding him, of taking off a lot more layers than a pretty dress. He had crush on Nick Carter as a child, not Britney Spears. He can’t change the fact that he needs to listen to special songs every night to remind him that he’s fucking perfect and that he’s amazing just the way he is and that he’s a firework and that he was born this way.
And Tina knows, in her heart, that she’s crying over Footloose marathons and Singin’ In the Rain, not her unrequited love for Blaine Anderson. She would never say it out loud, but the ache in her heart has only festered since September, and she can’t even recall a time when she didn’t just want to pick up her phone and call Mike. She’s terrified to admit it, but she’s fallen asleep in a certain yellow plaid shirt almost every night since the summer.
Neither of them understands why nothing is getting easier when everyone told them it would.
But then again, if Blaine wasn’t gay, he wouldn’t have to escape from the pressures of his parents and everyone around him, and Tina wouldn’t have to hide from thoughts that torture her when she’s alone in her room.
And that’s really the whole reason why they work so well right now, isn’t it?
Blaine knows that in another life, Tina would have been perfect for him.
If he wasn’t gay, he would have fallen in love with how soft her hair is and how smooth her skin is and the tinkle of her laughter after every joke he tells. He would have fallen in love with her wide, genuine smile and the way her eyes seem to sparkle when he’s talking to her or when she gets excited.
He would have fallen in love with the pitch-perfect chime of her soprano or the ease with which her body does choreography.
He would have loved to map that body himself, examining the muscles under the curves of her legs or the gentle waves of her hips and waist.
In another life, he would write her a hundred little love letters and sing duets with her every day and take her out for her favorite Thai food and buy her cough drops and ice cream when she’s sick. He would take her to see Jesus Christ Superstar in Columbus and drive around with her late at night when they would both just need some time to escape.
But Blaine falls asleep thinking about bright blue eyes, not soft brown ones. He dreams of a thinner, longer body holding him, of taking off a lot more layers than a pretty dress. He had crush on Nick Carter as a child, not Britney Spears. He can’t change the fact that he needs to listen to special songs every night to remind him that he’s fucking perfect and that he’s amazing just the way he is and that he’s a firework and that he was born this way.
And Tina knows, in her heart, that she’s crying over Footloose marathons and Singin’ In the Rain, not her unrequited love for Blaine Anderson. She would never say it out loud, but the ache in her heart has only festered since September, and she can’t even recall a time when she didn’t just want to pick up her phone and call Mike. She’s terrified to admit it, but she’s fallen asleep in a certain yellow plaid shirt almost every night since the summer.
Neither of them understands why nothing is getting easier when everyone told them it would.
But then again, if Blaine wasn’t gay, he wouldn’t have to escape from the pressures of his parents and everyone around him, and Tina wouldn’t have to hide from thoughts that torture her when she’s alone in her room.
And that’s really the whole reason why they work so well right now, isn’t it?
