Blaine

You work at a summer camp for kids. Blaine always works with you. You're both counselors in the senior group. You don't get along very well; you joke around with each other. They're hurtful jokes, but you don't take them seriously. You just respond with the same sarcasm.

You have a little daughter who's with you at camp. She's three years old. She's a miniature version of you. You just have nowhere to put her, so you take her along. The kids in your former camp range from 14 to 18. So everyone sits with your daughter. They like her, and that's why both the kids and the counselors play with her. Even Blaine sits with her. And he's not joking about his daughter.

Blaine didn't joke about appearances. About your daughter. About you, about personal matters. Well, his jokes were something like: "Are you going to scold the kids with your appearance?" or "Do you even know how to look after kids? They're already afraid of you," and so on.

When he was sitting with Lena, he sat her on his lap and played with her hands. Lena then said something. Lena didn't call him Blaine, but Ben, because she didn't pronounce certain letters and words.

• Uncle Blaine, do you love my mother? Blaine looked at her, stunned, and then smiled.
• Yes. "And what are you going to do? " They look at Blaine with big, innocent eyes.
• First I'll win your heart, and then your mother. He puts his hand on her tummy and strokes it.

It was the penultimate day of camp. Blaine was playing guitar, and the troop was singing songs. You were busy, holding Lena in your arms. Blaine was playing guitar, but he wasn't singing. He was watching you. And in the darkness, his gaze was soft, he wanted you to look at him, just once. He kept searching for your gaze. Like a schoolboy in love. His eyes glowed in the darkness. But you never looked his way. And when he played a famous song, the children sang loudly, so you couldn't hear him. And you could hear the lines. And everyone was singing the names of who liked whom. — I’m afraid to approach her, in case she doesn’t love me.