BECAUSE THE WORLD NEEDS MORE BLAZIMIO
~2.5k words, T for language
Azimio dropped his soaked dufflebag onto the lobby floor, unzipping it to check the contents. Water dripped off his nose into the bag, but it didn’t matter because the contents were as wet as the clothes on his back. Of fucking course. “Just take the subway”, he says. “It’s only two blocks from the apartment; you’ll be fine,” he says. “Rain in New York is nothing,” he says. “Suck my dick, Z,” he says.
Throwing the bag back over his shoulder, Azimio grumbled the entire walk to the elevator. If Dave didn’t have a drier in his apartment, he was going to make the idiot walk to the Laundromat himself and use up all the dick’s hot water. Maybe not the nicest way to start a visit with your high school best friend, but he’d gone through enough shit on Dave’s behalf that he didn’t give a rat’s ass. The elevator was patiently waiting when he hit the “up” button, so Azimio got in, punched in the “14”, and waited for the doors to shut.
“Hold the elevator!” a frantic voice screamed, tennis shoes slapping against the parquet. “Hold the elevator!”
Azimio sighed, pressing down on the “hold door” button like the gentleman his mother had always wanted him to be. The screaming, super short man almost slipped on the puddle Azimio left behind, making him smirk and improve his soaked mood just enough. The stranger scrambled into the elevator, smiling at Azimio as he caught his breath and ran a hand through his curls, finally managing to say “Thanks”.
“Fourt-…oh, you already pressed it.” Azimio nodded in reply, settling against the wall as the elevator slowly began to climb, anticipating a silent ride. The stranger had other ideas. “I was going to go grocery shopping, but it’s raining out.”
Azimio turned slowly to him, glaring at him as rainwater continued to drip off his entire body. “No shit, Sherlock.” Outside, he could hear the thunder rattling the city.
Ignoring the remark with just a raise of his bushy eyebrows, the stranger continued, “So I needed an umbrella from my apartment! I live on the fourteenth floor. You don’t, do you? Why are you going there?”
“No, I don’t live here,” Azimio grunted, turning to face forward again. He tried to ignore the second half of his question, but he couldn’t ignore the piercing gaze of this guy and his crazy-ass smile. “Do I know you?”
“I don’t think so,” he answered, putting out a hand. He grinned, adding, “I’m Blaine Anderson.”
Azimio raised an eyebrow at his outstretched hand, finally taking it and shaking it. The name was weirdly familiar…so was the man himself…but it wasn’t anything to worry about, he was sure. He let go and settled against the wall again, staring at the climbing floors as Blaine Anderson continued to stare at him.
“So, why are you going to the fourteenth floor again?”
“Because I heard there was a fucking lunatic living there giving free life-story interviews in elevators and I didn’t want to miss out,” he said, deadpan.
Blaine blinked, his smile fading for a moment before it came back. “I bet you’re going to a surprise party. There are a lot of parties on my floor! I don’t usually know about them, since they’re surprise parties and all, but I love them!”
“Parties for you, Sherlock?” Azimio asked. He’d have to punch himself later for encouraging him.
“No,” Blaine answered cheerfully. “But I know absolutely everyone on the floor, so they’re always fabulous!”
The elevator suddenly lurched to a stop, the illuminated “7” flickering on and off, following a particularly violent crack of thunder. “What the hale is going on?!” Azimio shouted, looking up at the ceiling. “Why’d we stop?” The lights inside the elevator flickered, then turned on with a brighter sheen of blue as the emergency bulbs kicked in. “What kind of twilight zone shit is this? I am way too young to plummet to my untimely death! Ain’t no way in hell I came all the way to New Fucking York to die!” He spun to face Blaine, trying to keep the panic from his face. He never even rode the Tower of Terror ride. This was not his idea of a fun trip at all. “Fix it!”
Blaine smiled kindly at Azimio, patting his wet arm and stepping over to the panel of buttons. He pressed the fireman button, shrugging and saying, “That’s the best we can do for now.”
“And they’ll get us out, right?” Azimio panicked, swearing at himself when his voice cracked.
“Eventually, yes. One of my very best friends is on the NYFD, so I know how these things go; it’ll take awhile. But they’ll get to us!”
“This is your shitty apartment building. Fix it!”
“I can’t,” Blaine said, gripping Azimio’s shoulders. “Calm down. We’re fine.”
“You’re just a pansy-ass woman-boy who don’t know shit,” Azimio growled, pushing past Blaine and digging his fingers in between the elevator doors, praying something would work.
“If you keep doing that, the door will break,” Blaine promised. “Then we’ll be stuck even worse.”
Azimio immediately stopped pulling at the door, backing away from it like it set him on fire. He backed all the way to the wall, sinking down and gripping his knees.
“I know how we could pass the time!” Blaine said, sitting down cross-legged next to Azimio, smiling brightly. “We could sing!”
Azimio looked up at the ceiling, whining, “God Jesus, I said I was sorry for that cat thing. I don’t want to be in Hell. Why you gotta put me in hell?!”
“You’re not in hell!” Blaine laughed. “We’re perfectly fine!”
“I am soaking wet, smell like shit because I’m pretty damn sure some homeless brother tried to molest me on the subway, all my clothes are ruined as fuck, I’m already late getting here, and now I’m trapped in an elevator with some asylum freak with a monkey face that I swear I done seen in a nightmare or something ‘cause you creepy familiar who wants to sing our problems away. You gon tell me again how this ain’t hell?”
Blaine looked a little hurt, his smile painted on but his eyes showing something else completely. He looked away from Azimio, back at the elevator doors and took a deep breath. “Where was I? Oh, right! The fourteenth floor.” He squeezed his eyes shut, going on with his happier tone from before. “I’ve lived in this apartment for almost five years now, right after I finished school. It’s a little out of the budget for most new college grads, but my dad paid for my school, so I had some saved. Plus, my roommate never likes living anywhere but the best.”
Looking over at Blaine, Azimio noticed his shoulders lose their tightness and even his eyelids seemed less scrunched. He smiled a little to himself, realizing that this little man was probably blathering on for his own comfort more than to make a new best friend. And he still looked creepy familiar. He let himself loosen his posture as he continued to listen. Or actually started to listen. Whatever. “He moved to NYC a year before I did. My roommate, I mean. We’re very best friends. Actually, we used to date back in high school, but then he graduated and I was still kicking around the homeland without him. Kind of sucked, actually. I’d transferred schools for him, and…well, if I didn’t have the glee club, I bet I would have turned tail and ran right back to the private school Dad put me in. So we broke up, but we kept talking and being best friends and I moved in with him once I got to school in NYC, just like we’d always planned.”
“Wait,” Azimio said, breaking in. “You roomed with your ex-boyfriend? Wasn’t that awkward?”
Blaine opened his eyes, looking surprised Azimio was even still there, let alone listening. “Uh, not really. We were…are…really, really close. Best friends.”
“Yeah, I got dat, Sherlock. But I think it’d be weird, rooming with the dude you fucked back in high school if you’re not fucking around.”
“Well,” Blaine said, his voice strained as he rubbed his neck, “We never actually consummated our relationship in high school. But I know what you mean. And it was only awkward a few times. Like when he started bringing his new boyfriend home with him after dates. And mostly that was just awkward because I knew him back in high school, too, and we didn’t exactly get along at all, and-”
“Shit, man,” Azimio laughed. “Your life is like Degrassi High Reunion Special or somethin’. Don’t any of you gay guys like dating people you meet as adults?”
Blaine laughed, shrugging. “I haven’t dated anyone from high school. And if I can say something,” he added, shifting his position to face Azimio, smiling tenderly at him. “You’re a very good person.”
“What the hale does that mean? You don’t know shit about me, Blaine Anderson.”
“I just mean that…it’s nice to be able to talk to a stranger so openly and not get the slightest vibe of homophobia in return. Even now and even here, ten years after New York got marriage equality, it doesn’t happen often.”
Azimio felt his cheeks heat up a little, avoiding the soft, mushy expression Blaine had all over his face. He looked like a puppy dog and that was just weird-ass stuff right there. “Yeah, well, my best friend ended up gay, and he was still as badass as the guy I was friends with. More, ‘cause he wasn’t, like, hiding or nothin’. And taking it up the ass hurts, so being gay ain’t no pussy move. So that homophobia shit don’t fly with me.”
Blaine smiled at him, nodding in understanding. “Have you ever wondered about yourself?”
“If you’re…you know, gay.”
“You hittin’ on me, Sherlock?!” Azimio asked, leaning away from Blaine’s curious eyes.
“No! I just…you were talking like you knew, so…I was just wondering,” he mumbled, suddenly fascinated with his hands.
Smirking at Blaine’s awkwardness, Azimio punched him in the arm. He opened his mouth to say something, but couldn’t think of a thing to say, so he just looked up at the ceiling again. “Damn rain.”
They sat in easy silence for a bit until Blaine decided he needed to finish his story. “So anyway, I eventually moved out, since he was bringing his boyfriend over more and more. It wasn’t that we didn’t really get along, just that…well, they were kind of…loud. And with the history we three had, it was just easier for me to leave. But Floor Fourteen was like my home, so I took the empty apartment down the hall. Me and Peacock.”
“Peacock?!” Azimio asked, horrified. “Is that…is that a stripper name or a drag queen?”
Blaine threw his head back and laughed, eventually shaking his head. “It’s a dog. Sweet little mutt I got on the street one day when I was out walking with my best friend. She practically begged I save him, since her apartment doesn’t allow for pets.”
“And she named the dog after a bird?”
“No, she wanted to name him Fiyero.” He stuck his tongue out, looking a little disgusted. “Peacock is not a ‘Fiyero’. And of course Kurt was on Rachel’s side about the whole thing, so I had to-”
“Hold up, little man,” Azimio interrupted, looking at him from the side of his eye. “Who’s Kurt?”
“Oh! He’s my very best friend! The one I roomed with. And dated.”
Azimio gulped, staring intently at Blaine’s bright face and dark curls and heavy eyebrows. “Kurt, he’s the gay dude who dated you in high school and then shacked up later with a guy from high school that was a total ass to him?”
“Uh, did I say that part?” Blaine scratched the back of his neck again, muttering, “I’m supposed to stop bringing that up. Since he ‘changed’ and all…”
“Holy shit, boy!” Azimio barked, everything falling in place. “I figgered out where I know your monkey face from! I’m Azimio Adams!”
“Azimio Adams! Yeah, and you’re Blaine Anderson…this is some kind of Twilight Zone shit. Fucking elevators! I’m Azimio!”
“…I’m sorry, that’s not ringing any bells…” Blaine admitted, giving him a weak smile.
Sighing dramatically, Azimio explained, “I went to McKinley all four years, strung you up on a flagpole with a bunch of other assholes Senior year…your boy Kurt’s dating my boy Dave, ain’t he?”
Somewhere along the lines, Blaine figured out who Azimio was, his eyes going wide. “You were that sassy Jet who kept whining about pirouetting during West Side Story, weren’t you?”
“Yeah, that’s me. I’m actually going to West Side Story with Gay and Gayer tomorrow night. It’s ironic or something. I think it’s some dark-ages excuse to force me to sit through memories of my oppressors, but whatever.”
Blaine laughed slapping Azimio’s leg as he squealed, “I’m invited, too!”
“Yeah-huh! I knew Dave’s ‘old friend’ was going to come with, but I had no idea it would be you!”
“Like hell; you didn’t even know who I was two minutes ago, boy,” Azimio said, a smile tugging at his lips.
“Shush.” He smiled, pulling his knees to his chest. “This is good. I was really worried I’d be the awkward third-wheel. Maybe not, right? I mean, we’re getting along, right?”
Azimio shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah, well, don’t print no ‘save the dates’ or nothin’, Sherlock.” Didn’t he spend his glory years in high school tormenting this guy? Didn’t he remember that?
Blaine just chuckled. “I’ll have to call Kinko’s and cancel the order.” He smiled at Azimio, as if they were friends. Hell, that smile looked like it was for someone who was more than a friend.
Staring straight ahead, Azimio could feel Blaine staring at him all over again. It was still weird, but in a totally different way. Whatever that means. “Hey, Sherlock. Maybe being stuck here with you ain’t hell after all.”
Blaine skootched over a bit closer. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Azimio said, nodding sharply. “It’s more like purgatory.”
Blaine hummed in amusement. “If we ever get out of here, do you want to meet Peacock? I mean, you did say you were running late anyway.”
“You got a drier in your apartment so I don’t gotta walk around this city like a wet hobo?”
“And a shower with actual runnin’ water?”
“The best money can buy.”
Azimio smiled. “Aight. It’s a date.”
