Epilogue
the victory dance

-ONE YEAR LATER-

Blaine Anderson Publishes Autobiographical "In Flagrante Delicto"

My first thought when I heard about the upcoming book from Blaine Anderson was that I was going to have to read it. You don't get torrid news stories quite like Anderson's without there being a fair bit of intrigue behind them, and I was certain it would be nothing if not a method with which I could quench my curiosity. Nothing, however, could have truly prepared my for the story which awaited me within the novel's thick pages.

Telling the tale of Anderson's involvement in the controversial Henry Canterbury Court Case, In Flagrante Delicto follows the young teen as he battles past an avalanche of bad publicity, the betrayal of his friends and his own inner struggles against a growing self-doubt. It starts and ends bittersweetly, giving the novel a distinct feeling of 'win some, lose some' and has a maturity to it that feels out of place coming from the mind of a teenager.

There's an eloquence to the way Anderson writes that is rare to find in someone his age (barely nineteen) and a natural flow and movement to his writing which draws you in and leaves you unwilling to leave it at any point. The only true way to accurately describe this story is that it is both melancholic and uplifting, both full of desolation and full of hope. It's the kind of book which leaves you crying and smiling at the same time, desperate for more, but not sure you can take it.

This isn't a book that's simply about telling another side of a story we all know. This is a book about a teenaged boy whose life is thrust into disrepair after he makes a drunken mistake and has to fight through the consequences. It's not about a court case, or a scandal, it's about a person, and it leaves you wondering how on earth we managed to forget that before.

Elizabeth Saunders, The New York Times.

The first time someone tells Blaine that his book – his life story – should be adapted into a film, he laughs. At the time, he's live on air, sat opposite a British talk show host who gives him a nonplussed look at the amusement playing across Blaine's face.

Then he blinks and it hits him. "You're serious?" he asks.

The talk show host nods.

And Blaine freezes.

It hasn't been an easy journey into adulthood for him, or for anyone involved. After the absolute train wreck that was his junior year at Dalton, Cooper decided that Blaine didn't suit Ohio any more than Ohio suited Blaine and pulled him out – of school, of his parents' home – and dragged him halfway across the country to live with him in LA.

It was a fresh start – one which he needed.

Some things, though, Blaine didn't want a fresh start from. Wes, Nick, Jeff and David – he clung to them through an almost incessant flow of emails and texts and phonecalls. And—Kurt. Every time he dropped his hotshot New York boyfriend into conversation, Blaine couldn't help the smile that stretched at his lips, threatening to take over every muscle in his face.

Kurt.

Out of everything that came out of the clusterfuck that was Blaine's junior year of high school, Kurt is the only thing that even comes close to making it all worth it. But Blaine refuses to do that – to weigh up all the advantages and disadvantages – because it just makes it all seem so empty and little. It wasn't little. It ruined his life.

The book was his way of hammering that fact into every single person in America's skull.

Blaine didn't really anticipate the success it would garner.

He was making a point, not a bid for success, but the book took off with explosive, unexpected popularity and once more catapulted him into his least favourite place on earth – the spotlight. It's better this time, which probably has to do with the fact that it's him who's calling the shots, but he doesn't like this. He can't quite understand how Cooper lives with this, everyday, non-stop, every moment of his life documented on film and spread around for all the world to see. He doesn't understand how anyone lives like this.

"So, for the viewers at home who haven't read the book, what is it about?" the talk show host asks, snapping Blaine back to the present.

Blaine blinks twice, and forces his vocal chords to work. "Well, I'm not sure how much people over here already know about the story, but it all started with what I now know was a rather ill-advised trip to a gay bar in Columbus – a city in Ohio…"

In Flagrante Delicto by Blaine Anderson
A review by beansbeansbeans

"There's a critical difference between fame and infamy. Fame is fleeting – fickle even – and everyone gets their fair fifteen minute share. Infamy, however? That's a bit more permanent."

Those are the words with which we are introduced to the world of Blaine Anderson. His book, In Flagrante Delicto, hit the shelves just last week and I was among the first to grab a copy and dig into it.

Unlike most of the people who followed this story, I was there right from the start. I live in Ohio, in the same town as the elusive Blaine Anderson did, and for nearly three years, he was a loyal customer at the coffee shop where I work.

You'll probably cringe to hear the next part, but I'm not one of the people who can stand up and self-righteously declare that they stood by Blaine's side right from the start. I was right there among his most fervent haters. I took one look at the story, at Henry Canterbury pressed against the wall of a gay bar by Blaine Anderson and I thought, 'I can't believe I used to give that guy free biscotti.' I even posted about it, and was among his most vocal attackers. And then, when they dropped the charges and he made his emotional and gut-wrenching statement to the press, I thought, 'I can't believe I stopped giving this guy free biscotti.'

Because that's the truly tragic thing about Blaine Anderson's story. He wasn't the guilty one.

So, when his book was published last week, I thought that I owed it to him to at least hear him out this one last time.

It made me cry. Poignant and striking – this is the type of book that makes you want to lose faith in people altogether. Because, for the majority of the Henry Canterbury Court Case, to everyone following its progress on the news, it was about Blaine Anderson, a spoilt rich kid who got drunk, got handsy and got himself arrested.

It wasn't about Blaine Anderson, the victim of a brutal gay-bashing who pulled himself back together against all the odds. It wasn't about Blaine Anderson, who lost his entire life in the ensuing scandal, who lost his place at the one school he felt safe, who lost his reputation and his parents' respect. It wasn't about Blaine Anderson, the real victim.

It's not a sad story, though. Not really. Yes, the misery in Blaine's tone and the simple brilliance of his writing stir something deep and powerful within you, but this story is full of hope. You see the behind the scenes things which the news media missed.

You see the fact that even when we all screamed for his blood, Blaine had four amazing friends at his school, who, even though everyone else turned on him, stood by him and pulled through for himwhen it mattered. You see that Blaine's brother – who, in a twist of fate was revealed to be the Cooper Anderson – would have dropped everything in an instant and been there for him, even though he was thousands of miles away in the Gambia at the time.

And lastly, you see how in amongst all the shit that happened to him, Blaine Anderson found and fell in love with his current long-term boyfriend.

So, no, I'm not just recommending this book to you because I feel that everyone out there should read and pay attention to Blaine Anderson's story. I mean, I do think that, but that's not why I'm sat here, typing into a word document at half eleven at night. I'm recommending this book because it made me think about my values, about how I judge people, and because I truly think that this story could change your life.

POSTED 2 DAYS AGO WITH 3,410 NOTES
#book rec #Blaine Anderson #In Flagrante Delicto

so-i-joined-a-cult Hands down, this was one of the best books I have ever read. $8.99 well spent.

vampiresvsninjas I want a film adaptation. Like, a full-on, theatrical release, big deal film adaptation, with critical accolades and a fucking Oscar for best script handed to Blaine Anderson.

whothefuckismoriarty What I love especially about this book is the way he talks about Henry Canterbury. Because, you know what? If it had been me, I would drag that guy through the mud. I'd be cussing every second page, because I was so pissed at him. But Blaine? All he does – and to me, it's even better than a slap to Canterbury Jr's face – is outright pity him. It's the ultimate one-upmanship. Because Blaine Anderson is so superior to Henry Canterbury that he's not angry at him, he just feels sorry for him.

thunderbirdisamailclient I think I fell just a tiny bit in love with him each chapter.

It wasn't Blaine's idea to write the book.

Cooper got on his case about going to therapy sometime after his third middle-of-the-night panic attack, and Blaine, not one for arguing, agreed. The writing it all out thing was something she suggested, citing it as therapeutic, and the publishing the finished product was also her recommendation, declaring it 'closure' for Blaine.

Reality looks a little different.

It doesn't feel like closure to Blaine. It feels like a victory dance.

And that kind of makes him feel like crap.

"I'm not gonna lie; there was a time when my only quibble with murdering Henry Canterbury would have been whether to drown him in acid or burn him alive, but this isn't all about me. Henry Canterbury may have completely derailed my life as I knew it, but someone did that to him first. I get it, I really do, because I agree: his father shouldn't be allowed to preach family values with the same voice that he fights to take away his son's rights, but I just wished someone would have stopped, and thought. Because – and I know this better than anyone – having details about your private and personal life splashed over the papers and morphed into some sort of horrific scandal is the type of thing that really, really sucks."

-Blaine Anderson, AKA a fucking SAINT of a person

The second time someone tells him that they want to make his book into a movie, Blaine isn't laughing. He's out for lunch with Kurt – Burt bought them plane tickets to see each other for Christmas – and for the first time in a long time, he's feeling good about his life, in control and ahead of the curve. Under the table, Kurt's fingers are dancing across his knee, and above the table, Kurt's smiling at Blaine like he's mapping out every last inch of their time together and it's the most beautiful blueprint he could ever create.

The man – a typical bigwig producer with far too much money and a charm that is simply smarmy – approaches their secluded table, thick lips twisted into a smile and dark glasses perched on top of his slightly crooked, tanned nose. He positions himself just outside of Blaine's personal space, and Blaine feels Kurt's hand freeze on his knee.

"Blaine Anderson, right?" he asks, sticking out his hand for Blaine to take.

Blaine takes the hand gingerly. It's damp with sweat.

"Can I?" the man asks but doesn't wait for an answer before he pulls up a chair and slouches at their table in between him and Kurt. Behind the stranger's chunky frame, Kurt raises his eyebrow, expression just dripping 'unimpressed'.

"So I read your book," the man tells them, and Blaine can tell where this is going. "Loved it – absolutely loved it. Such a striking concept, and so well executed."

"You want to turn it into a movie," Blaine surmises calmly.

The man nods. "Bright one you are," he confirms. "Could tell that from the book, though. But I'm sensing a bit of apprehension, so," he retrieves a business card from his suit jacket, "think it over and give me a call if you decide the answer is yes."

Blaine stares at the business card in the man's hand for a few moments before he realises he's supposed to take it. Taking the expensive feeling piece of card in his fingers, Blaine scans over the embossed font on the front. KEITH POLLO, PRODUCER FOR POSTHASTE STUDIOS, the card reads.

Blaine lifts his eyes to the man – presumably Keith Pollo – and raises his eyebrows to ask if this is all.

Thankfully, Keith gets the hint. "Right," he declares, slapping both of them on their shoulders. "I'll leave you to your meal." He heaves himself up and saunters away.

Once they're alone again, Blaine rolls the business card over and over again between his fingers, and now Kurt's looking at him like—

Like he did at the beginning. Like a puzzle. Like a broken thing to put back together.

But then Kurt just says, "You don't want this, do you?"

And he's right, of course he's right. "No."

Maybe it's because of how their relationship started, but Kurt and Blaine operate pretty much entirely on subtext around each other. There are three levels to every conversation they have – what's being said, what's not being said, and what's meant – and Blaine's thankful, truly, because if it were any other way, their insecurities would probably tear their relationship apart.

So Blaine can say, "I hate him, Kurt," and Kurt will hear, I hate him, I pity him, and no matter what I do, it's like I can't get rid of him from my life. And Kurt can say, "You don't want this, do you?" and Blaine will hear, Just give me the all clear, Blaine, and no matter what, I will get you an out.

Kurt reaches across their table and plucks the business card out of Blaine's hand. He pauses, gives Blaine a chance to protest, and the unceremoniously dunks it in the flame of the tiny tealight on their table. The business card barely resists and then flickers into ignition and Kurt calmly drops the burning card into his empty wine glass.

Kurt shrugs. "Don't do things that make you unhappy."

Don't be an idiot, I love you.

Kurt's sudden burst of pyromania sets off the fire alarms in the restaurant, and they end up doused in a shower of freezing water. They kiss like that, though, water pouring down on top of them, and Blaine feels like he's in a movie – the good kind, without sex-scandals and disownment – and he's just reached the end.

Happily ever after, he thinks, and kisses Kurt again.

In Flagrante Delicto
Blaine Anderson

Dedication
To Wes, David, Nick and Jeff, thank you.
To Kurt, my friend, confidante,
character witness and one true love of my life.
It's just as well I'm terrible at espionage, is it not?

END