Starting Over
by Terri
*~*~*
Based
around Sentoo 2
*~*~*
If anyone had ever said the bravest thing that Blair Sandburg would do was walk
through his own front door, he would have laughed in their face. The loft was
home; a place to escape the realities of the world. It represented safety and
warmth, friendship and love. From the first time Jim had shown him his tiny
room he knew he had a place he belonged. Jim let him decorate his room as he
liked, and soon it was filled with precious mementos. Pictures and cushions.
Expensive artefacts and tacky souvenirs of his many travels. Over time his
belongings had spread, a photo on the shelf, CDs on the entertainment unit,
masks on the stark walls. Blair’s belongings mixed with Jim’s, a mismatched
jumble that somehow worked.
The loft was permanent and safe. Blair knew he could leave his room in the
morning, secure in the knowledge that his stuff would be there when he came
back. No worrying about rats of the vermin or human variety.
Blair loved the loft. If he had a bad day he could collapse on his bed and
escape in a book. Or vent his frustrations by chopping vegetables for dinner,
listening for Jim’s return home. He marked blue books bathed in the heat of the
fire, and watched TV on the comfortable couch, feet pushed under one of his
cushions. It was his home, the place he could relax and be Blair. Not Mr
Sandburg the TA or the geeky observer. He didn’t have to prove himself in any
way, could feel himself relax as the front door closed.
Which is why the betrayal cut so deep when Blair opened that door, seeing
nothing but a bare loft, with all his precious belongings stuffed into boxes.
The loft had been violated, and not even by a stranger. Jim had destroyed his
home, and Blair could feel every bit of security he’d ever held smashed within
minutes.
It hurt in a way Blair could never explain as his chest ached and tears
threatened, but he had to walk away. Wondering what he’d done this time to lose
yet another home. Even when the reasons were explained and the situation fixed
Blair could still relive that moment in precise detail. Jim’s stony face, the
boxes, the pain in his chest, the tear that leaked despite his best efforts as
he walked away, hold-all filled with an assortment of clothes held in one
shaking hand.
The scar may have scabbed over, but underneath the wound was deep, and Blair
could feel it throb as he stood outside the loft door once more. It used to be
his home, a place he felt safe, but now all he could remember was bare walls
and boxes.
Blair wanted to go in, but he was scared. Scared to know if it could ever be
the same. He’d been called brave many times, but as Blair hesitantly pushed
open the door he knew bravery was starting over, recreating his home. He didn’t
feel brave, but as Jim pulled open the door, sweeping him into a hug, he knew
he’d go on, even if underneath the wound never stopped itching.
The End
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