One Good Day (one-shot) - part one
A/N: First of all: no, I haven't forgotten about "... for life", and yes, it will be continued. It's just that my muse felt the need to tell me how little she appreciates working on a schedule, and then turned her perky butt at the story and bounced off to play with plot bunnies. Effect? One story written (proof below), two half-done (about 15 000 words written in each), and only now she starts considering letting me go back to the Gotten sequel. Yup, annoying your muse with deadlines is a bad idea.
Second: this is a fill for a prompt on angst-meme (careful, spoilers in the prompt; TRIGGER: SUICIDE PLANNING, but you know me, happy ending), cleaned up and beta-ed by punkkitten2113 (mwww-ahh!). It was supposed to be a short one-shot. Ahem. 11 000 words later...
Enjoy? :)
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ONE GOOD DAY
He knows the feeling all too well. The disappointment, the quiet despair, the thought that there must be more to life than that. More than the everyday grind of the job he hates and coming home to cold silence, only to reheat dinner left for him in the fridge, stare brainlessly at bad TV shows, and go to bed.
When Blaine was young and idealistic… whoa, he’s barely 22, he just graduated from college, why does he sound like his own grandfather all of a sudden?
Anyway, when Blaine was an idealistic teenager, he used to believe that life had a purpose; there were so many goals to reach, countless things to do with days that were always fleeting, too short, not enough. Where are his goals now? Earning money so he can afford nice things and look down his nose at his peers just doesn’t feel worth all the effort. And other things - things he might want - he can’t have. Love. Family. Music. Passion. Kids.
At least not the way he wants them.
It’s not that he didn’t try. Of course he did. Fresh with the relief of leaving Yale with a BA in Business after four unbearably long years, five months ago he gathered all his courage and went to see his father. He naively believed that after doing what was expected of him and graduating with honors, he’d have some sort of leverage. That his father would have a reason to be proud of him at last; that he’d be placated enough to say that of course, he had nothing against Blaine’s plans to ask his boyfriend of two years to move in with him.
He couldn’t have been more mistaken.
He learned a lot of things that afternoon. That of course he graduated with honors - he was an Anderson, business was in his blood. That now it was time for him to move back home and start his career in the family company - from the very bottom of course, no preferential treatment. All according to the plan that’s always been there. Too bad Blaine had known nothing about it. And what, a boyfriend? Was he crazy? There was no place for deviations in a respectable businessman’s life. It was time for him to settle down with a nice girl and forget about these ridiculous teenage experiments.
Stunned though he was, Blaine did try to argue. To rebel. What if he wanted to work somewhere else? The answer was calm and immediate. He’d get disowned, of course. Same if he insisted to bring shame on the family, keeping up his openly homosexual conduct. It was his choice.
So he made a choice - or so he thought. He stormed out of his father’s office, caught the plane back to New Haven and that same evening asked Ben, his boyfriend, to move in with him.
And got promptly rejected. It turned out that while Blaine was hoping for them to live together, Ben was ready for them to break up. And even though it was true that their relationship was more about comfort and compatibility than true love or great passion, it hurt. It really did. It hurt even more when it turned out he had no one to get miserably drunk with, because none of their friends were actually his friends too.
Blaine spent two months afterwards trying to find a job that would let him earn a decent living on his own. But he was just a graduate in a sea of graduates, and eventually he had no choice but to pack his things and go back to Ohio to accept his father’s conditions.
And here he is now, the wayward son with his head hung in defeat. After waiting for four years to be free, he’s more of a prisoner than ever. Without hope or perspective to actually live. Because this? It’s not life; he might as well be dead. Frankly, he’s not sure if it wouldn’t be more exciting than this.
It’s just this thing at first, a silly phrase. I might just as well be dead. Except he keeps thinking it, randomly, in various situations when he can barely stand the boredom and lack of inspiration that fill his days. Yes, Mr. Kutner. Right away, Mr. Kutner. Yes, I’ve put the files in alphabetical order, Mr. Kutner.
Blaine feels like screaming every time he enters the company’s building in Columbus, tension winding tight in his chest, choking him. This is what hell feels like, he thinks. Just a flow of identical days, doing work you hate without a chance for it to change, ever. An eternity of this. I think I’d rather be dead.
Then, somehow, he starts imagining it.
Cutting the string of unbearable monotony. Rejecting his father’s Great Plan once and for all. He spends boring meetings amusing himself with planning the best way to die. Car crash? No; messy, painful and there’s too much chance of survival. Cutting? He’s not sure he could go through with it. Gun to the head? He has nowhere to get one. Hanging? Absolutely not, with his strangulation phobia. Pills? Hmm… pills…
Blaine has a small stash of pills at his disposal, incidentally. A bottle of strong painkillers from having his wisdom teeth removed surgically - untouched, because Advil turned out to be enough. Sleeping pills he needed on several occasions in college, when the stress was too much. Antidepressants he took for two months before stopping because he felt worse on them than without them. If he took all of these, they could work, couldn’t they?
Before he knows it, he’s checking it online one evening, poring over suicide advice sites. He’s not even surprised that he’s reading things like this, and without a blink. It’s just research. He likes to know things.
The pills would be more than enough, he knows an hour later. Especially if he chased them down with strong booze. Excellent. He’s got everything he needs, then.
And just like that, it’s a decision.
He’s waiting for his mind to protest; for some kind of reaction. A decision like this should evoke intense emotions, shouldn’t it? Out of sheer survival instinct, if nothing else. And yet, nothing - nothing at all. Indifference. He’s calm like a lake surface on a quiet day. He could do it now, swallow the pills without batting an eye, and fall asleep. Just like that.
So maybe - ? There’s nothing to put in order, no one to say goodbye to, no last letters to write. No one cares; not his cold, distant parents, not his friends - the old ones forgot, he has no new ones - no significant other. No one has truly cared about Blaine for a long time; he just hasn’t realized until recently.
In fact, now that he thinks of it, stretched on his bed, staring at the ceiling - the last time he felt cared for, felt like he mattered, just felt, was over four years ago, with Kurt.
Kurt.
He might be the only one who’d care that Blaine died. Probably. If he hasn’t forgotten. Which, of course he hasn’t. You don’t just forget your first love. It always stays with you, like a brand on your heart. Impossible to erase even if you want to.
Blaine knows; he tried. The months after they’d broken up, filled with too much pain, too many regrets and emotions, until he decided to cut all contact in an effort to numb himself. Now, numb to the bone, he’d rather take the pain. Anything but this.
He falls asleep fully dressed on top of his bedspread, and when he wakes up, he knows, with absolute clarity, what to do.
He’s going to find Kurt, and meet him one last time. Not to say goodbye - just to talk, about anything really; to remember what it’s like to feel good.
And then he’ll come back here, to his parents’ big empty house, and kill himself.
Finding Kurt is easier than Blaine thought it would be. His fingers tremble slightly when he opens Facebook and types the name he’s tried not to think about for a long time.
Kurt Hummel. Deep breath. Enter.
And there he is - smiling at Blaine from his profile picture, bright and carefree, his eyes scrunched in amusement. He looks more mature than when Blaine last saw him; his cheekbones more pronounced, his hair adorably messy. He seems to be having the time of his life and Blaine feels a pang of envy that he suppresses immediately.
Why wouldn’t Kurt be happy? He went to the school he’d dreamed of to study what he was passionate about. His parents didn’t pressure him into forgetting about musical theatre and pursuing a more practical career. Yes, he was upset and hurting for some time after they broke up, but the decision was mutual and it seems that he’s happy again now. And Blaine’s glad to see it. He really is.
He can’t see much information on the page, since he’s not listed as Kurt’s friend, but after a short search, he finds what he needs.
Location: New York City
Not that Blaine had much doubt about it; Kurt was in love with the city, he always wanted to stay there after college.
There’s no info about relationship status available, but there’s probably a boyfriend there somewhere, who may not be happy to see Blaine coming to meet Kurt. But he’ll cross that bridge when he gets there; it’s not like he intends to do anything to intrude on Kurt’s life, anyway. He just wants to meet for lunch. Or maybe coffee. Drinks? Spend an hour or two with Kurt, talk a little. Feel good for a change - if only for one last day.
Yes. He’ll take a day trip to New York - no expectations, no detailed plans, no regrets; he’ll make it as good as possible before leaving this dreary world behind him.
Now, how can he actually find Kurt in New York?
The thought of calling any of their old friends and asking for Kurt’s address gets discarded almost as fast as the possibility of calling Kurt himself. Even if any of them still have their old phone numbers, and even if they could and wanted to help him after such a long time, Blaine doesn’t want Kurt to know he’s coming. There’s a chance Kurt might not want to see him, and as impolite as Blaine knows it is, he can’t take the risk. He needs to see his first love one last time. Besides, all his life he’s lived by the rules - always well-mannered, polite, thoughtful - and look how much good it did him. He might as well forget about the rules and manners; he’ll be dead soon anyway.
As he keeps looking through the page for any clue on where he could find Kurt in the vast city, Blaine notices a link in a side panel: A HOUSE IS NOT A HOME. Curious, he clicks on it, and he’s redirected to a website of a small interior design and redecorating company. Owned by one Kurt Hummel.
Blaine clicks through the gallery of projects Kurt worked on - cozy, inviting apartments with every bit of space carefully planned - and his heart clenches painfully. He can see Kurt’s taste, his hand in every single one, can easily imagine the two of them living in any one of these. And they could have. Yes, they’d split before Kurt went to New York, deciding that it was better this way, but if Blaine had gone to study at NYU when he graduated a year later, like he was supposed to - wanted to - there would have been a chance for them still. Probably.
But he didn’t.
Feeling suddenly weary, he navigates out of the gallery and looks for any contact information. There it is - address of the office, opening hours. Everything he needs. Noting it down in his dayplanner, Blaine leaves the website to search for the best connection to New York.
Half an hour later, everything’s planned. It’s Wednesday. One more day of work, and then he’ll take Friday off and go to New York on the early morning flight. He’ll meet Kurt, then maybe have a good dinner by himself, or just enjoy the city; he’ll spend the night in a hotel and return the next day.
He’ll die on Saturday night.
Kurt’s company is located in an obscure building on a side street, but the office looks inviting. Judging by the front window, that is. Blaine wouldn’t know about the inside, since he’s yet to get over the sudden bout of nerves and enter.
Since he arrived just after nine, Blaine managed to check into his hotel, change into more presentable (and less wrinkled) clothes, and sip slowly at a medium drip in one of the many coffeehouses while looking through a newspaper. Then, he took a walk. It was fourteen blocks and he was in no hurry - Blaine’s plan was to take Kurt out for lunch, so he still had time to enjoy the warm day like he hardly got to do lately, to watch people milling around and peek into store windows. And to fight the doubts that appeared out of nowhere and kept growing the closer to his destination he was.
Is it a smart move? Is that fair, to either of them, to just force this meeting upon Kurt? Won’t Blaine regret this?
This last thought actually forces a burst of bitter laughter out of him now, as he’s standing on a sidewalk opposite Kurt’s office. What will it change? In the massive pyramid of regrets he has, one more would make no difference. Not when he’ll be dead in about 36 hours, anyway.
Shaking his head, Blaine crosses the quiet street and opens the door to the office. Even this space radiates Kurt’s taste - a small sofa and two armchairs around a low table, a quality coffee machine, colorful pillows and simple sketches on the walls discreetly completing the picture. There’s a long, curved desk at the back of the room, with a laptop, neat piles of catalogues, fabric swatches and color samples. The other half of it is covered with huge sheets of paper with hand-drawn designs. The well-dressed young man leaning over the papers straightens up when the door shuts with a click, and -
“Blaine?”
Kurt’s eyes widen, his lips frozen in a small “O” of surprise, and the next instant he’s on Blaine, hugging him tightly and laughing with delight, leaving him dazed and light-headed. He smells of a different cologne than he used to, but Blaine’s body recognizes the voice, the touch, the scent of pure Kurt underneath, and reacts viscerally. He has to remind himself to pull back after a moment, because it feels so natural, so right to be there, in Kurt’s arms.
Light is dancing in Kurt’s blue-green-grey eyes as he smiles, wide and happy.
“Oh my god, I can’t believe it’s you! I’ve missed you! Please tell me you’re not dropping by just to say hello?”
Blaine has to smile; Kurt’s fire, his pure enthusiasm, is unchanged.
“No, I hoped you’d have time to eat lunch with me. I happen to be in New York for a day.”
Kurt actually bounces a little.
“I have a meeting with a client in ten minutes - just a short one, looking through the final plans. Come upstairs, to my apartment. I’ll get you coffee and join you in half an hour, tops. And then I’m kidnapping you for the rest of the day, so make sure to cancel all other plans. There’s no way I’m letting you escape my company when I finally get to see you after all this time!”
Two flights of old, squeaking stairs later, Kurt opens the unlocked door and gestures for Blaine to come in, a smile never fading off his face.
“It’s not much, but it’s home. Shoes off and make yourself comfortable. Do you want coffee?”
“Thanks, I had some earlier.”
“Okay, I have something else I think you may like.” With that, Kurt darts into the kitchen and Blaine is left to curiously stare around.
The apartment has two levels. The lower one is just one big open space with spiral stairs in the far corner, leading up. The kitchen looks modern and carefully planned, all steel and dark wood, with a small dining nook by the window. The lounge area seems bare by comparison. There’s just an old sofa with one matching armchair, a coffee table and a TV on the empty white wall.
“Yeah, I know, you’d think I’d design my own place first, right? I did everything but this room - I can’t get the feel here. I’m waiting for the inspiration to strike but there’s always something lacking,” Kurt says as he brings a plate full of cookies and a tall glass of milk to the coffee table. Something aches deep in Blaine’s chest, sending shockwaves of grief he thought he was over all through his body. “Oatmeal and honey, I hope you still like them?”
He has to swallow to dislodge the thing stuck in his throat, but his voice still comes out hoarse.
“I- I never had them again after - “
Kurt’s eyebrows arch up in surprise. “Why not? You knew the recipe as well as I did.”
“They reminded me of you too much.” Blaine’s voice sounds almost normal now. It’s okay. They’re both adults and it was a long time ago. Time heals everything, right? They can act normal around each other after five years. Of course they can.
“Oh.” There’s a slight pause then, and Kurt smiles again, something almost tender in the line of his lips. “That’s why I keep making them all this time. They remind me of you, in the best ways.” He turns and strides to the iPod dock on the windowsill, turning on some soft music, before looking back at Blaine. “I have to run back down, I must finish adding this one last-minute idea to the plan. Make yourself at home; bathroom is upstairs. I’ll be back soon.”
With Kurt gone, Blaine heads to the bathroom first, catching a glimpse of a very solitary bedroom on his way, all in reds and creams, pictures and books everywhere. It looks like this is Kurt’s sanctuary, his place to relax and recharge.
Back downstairs, Blaine settles on the couch that turns out to be quite comfortable, and reaches for a cookie. It tastes like heaven and sweet memories, cold milk a perfect way to complement it, just like he remembers, and before long, calm contentment spreads through Blaine’s body in a warm sleepy wave. True, he barely slept last night, emotions stirring and distracting him, and this morning he walked so much more than he’s used to lately, and this couch is so very nice, everything like a cocoon of wellbeing. He’ll just close his eyes for a couple of minutes, to let them rest. Well, maybe his neck too, it’s a little strained and this pillow here looks so inviting…
He’s feeling warm and safe, the sweet smell of fresh cookies still wafting in the air, and oh yes, it’s truly a good day. Mm, so good…
Blaine wakes up slowly, the sound of someone singing quietly nearby leading him gently towards awareness. Before he manages to switch his brain back on and remember where he is, Kurt’s smiling face appears over him and Blaine sits up quickly, his face burning.
“Oh god, I’m sorry, I dozed off. I - “
Kurt’s laugh sounds like a silver bell. “It’s okay. I took longer than I thought I would anyway. So we’ll just have lunch here instead of somewhere more classy - come on, it’s ready.”
The table is set with colorful plates, tall glasses of orange juice bright in the sun streaming through the window. Kurt shrugs as they sit down.
“I wish I’d known you were coming, I’d have gone grocery shopping. Oh well, Greek salad and toast will have to do. But later I’m so taking you out to dinner. You do have the evening free, right?”
“I do.”
Blaine’s mind is still fuzzy from the impromptu nap, but this he knows for sure: today, he has all the time in the world. For this one day, he’ll live like it’s all that’s left.
Because it is.
The food seems tastier than anything Blaine’s eaten in years and he feels like he’s back where he belongs, here in Kurt’s company - and even though he knows it’s just an illusion of normalcy, he’s perfectly fine with it. Today, the reality doesn’t matter. Today, the world is his; whatever he chooses to see and feel, it’s alright. Today he won’t try to have control over his life.
The conversation flows as if they parted just days, and not years ago. Kurt is chatty and curious, laughing easily, his face even more expressive than it used to be. It’s like he’d given up on all his carefully built walls and defenses, and allowed the world to see him the way he is, in all his beautiful complexity. Blaine can’t take his eyes off of him.
Obviously, Kurt wants to know what Blaine has been doing all along - so he tells him, censoring it a little to make it all seem like his own choices: the business studies, coming back home, working at the family company. It’s so easy to talk calmly about it now, the indifference fresh and perfect. Blaine’s decision about what’s going to happen tomorrow has already freed him from the resentment, the anger, the disappointment - it’s the past, it’s over. It doesn’t matter.
If Kurt is surprised by his choices, he doesn’t say anything - he listens in attentive silence until Blaine finishes, and only asks him one thing then.
“Are you happy?”
And Blaine is momentarily stunned, the simple question cutting into him like a sharp blade. Is he? Right now, he is. In general? Of course not. But it doesn’t matter anymore, and he has no intention of admitting it to Kurt. It’s Blaine’s one last good day; he won’t ruin it like that. So he finds a smile before he answers, “I’m good. Now tell me about you - did you decide to give up on your Broadway dream after all?”
Kurt laughs, eyes sparkling.
“No, of course not - I act, but it’s not Broadway yet. So I design for money; it’s a fun job and it pays well.”
“How did you get into it?”
“By accident, really. I helped a friend in college redecorate her place once. She was delighted with the result, the word about my help came out, and soon I had another friend ask me, and another… It turned out I was good at it. So I decided to try doing it professionally - and three years later, here I am.”
Kurt’s whole face is alive when he talks - about the places he designed, the theater he works for, the support line for gay and questioning teens where he volunteers whenever he can; and Blaine doesn’t have to ask to know that he’s happy. It radiates from Kurt with every word and every smile. The amount of energy he seems to have is astounding.
“Wow, you busy bee. When do you find time for a boyfriend?” Blaine can’t stop himself from asking about that. Kurt’s smile never wavers, still open and honest as he waves his hand dismissively.
“I don’t. I’ve dated several guys in college, but none for too long - they didn’t feel right for me, you know? So after some time I decided that I needed to learn to be happy by myself first, before I can be happy with someone else. I think the right man will come when I’m ready. And if he doesn’t, I’m good with that too. I refuse to settle for anything but true love.”
A bit of a blush has crept onto Kurt’s cheeks, but Blaine barely pays attention now. With a pang, he remembers Ben; the years spent with a man that was good enough, but so far from being his true love. The number of compromises that came way too easily for Blaine, only for the comfort of not being alone; just to have someone to call his. Kurt’s voice brings him back to the present.
“What about you? Any lucky man by your side?”
“Not anymore.”
And Kurt must have some sort of sixth sense, because he doesn’t ask, as if he knew exactly when Blaine didn’t want to talk about certain things. So they don’t. They end up on the couch with cups of coffee, chatting for hours, about everything and nothing - from gossip about old friends to discussing the current LGBT community state around the world. Afterwards, Blaine won’t remember the details of their conversation, too focused on Kurt’s eyes, face, the fleeting touches of his hand as he gestures lively, but now he just feels good. Happy, contented, welcome. No difficult topics to discuss, no past pain to dig through. Just Kurt and his warmth, just what Blaine needed.
With darkness falling, they move their conversation to an adorable Italian restaurant, a tiny place hidden in a back street, that serves the best lasagna Blaine has ever tasted and delicious wine from a small family winery.
It’s late, almost midnight, when they walk back to Kurt’s apartment, and Blaine knows that his time is running out. And it’s fine. There’s no doubt in his mind. He got what he came here for - he got much more, thanks to Kurt’s vivacity, his joy and contagious smile. He comes up for one last coffee with his only true friend, his ex-boyfriend, ex-lover, the only man he’s ever truly loved. And when the cups are empty, he kisses Kurt’s cheek, says an easy lie about trying to stay in touch from now on, and leaves the cozy apartment and its beautiful owner.
New York lights welcome him like a friend when he goes out into the street, alone. He doesn’t look back.
Not until he hears Kurt calling his name, at least. He stops and turns then.
Kurt is leaning out of his kitchen window, for the first time today looking unsure somehow. Or maybe it’s just a trick of the light and shadows, because the next instant he’s smiling again.
“Wait a moment!” His head disappears from the window and Blaine makes a quick mental inventory. Did he leave something upstairs? His phone, bag, jacket - everything seems to be in its place. Before he can start to wonder, though, the side door to the building opens and Kurt runs out. He’s by Blaine’s side in five quick strides, and yes, he does look unsure. What the -
“I know you said you have to go back tomorrow, but is there any chance you could stay till Tuesday?” Kurt asks quickly, a little winded.
No is the obvious answer. He can’t, he’ll be busy on Tuesday. Most likely with his own funeral. Instead, what comes out of his mouth is, “Why?”
Kurt looks almost pleading now.
“We’re performing on Monday evening, it’s the last time before we start with a new show, and I hoped - I… I’d really be happy if you could be there… for me. You’ve never really had a chance to see me act, not in anything major, and just… It would mean a lot.”
Blaine’s resolve starts to waiver slightly - he shouldn’t, but… what would it change, really, if he died three days later than he planned? Kurt is doing this thing where he looks at him from beneath his eyelashes when he adds, “And then there’s this party afterwards, to celebrate the successful run of the show, and I’ll understand if you say no, of course, but I thought maybe you could be my plus one?”
Damn, he’s playing dirty now. That look… Kurt knows perfectly well that Blaine can’t resist it, he never could. He takes a deep breath. Fine. His pills aren’t going anywhere. His father will be furious that he’s taking more time off, but whatever.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” The joy on Kurt’s face tells Blaine that he didn’t hold much hope in convincing him, so he smiles reassuringly.
“Okay. I’ll stay until Tuesday.”
Kurt bounces a little on the balls of his feet. “Perfect! Thank you! I’ll call you in the morning and we’ll go out for breakfast.” A quick, tight hug, and Kurt is gone, back to his apartment.
Lying in his hotel bed half an hour later, Blaine can’t quite believe that Kurt was able to influence him so easily, even after so many years. It was supposed to be the last night of his life - or, at least, the last one when he got to sleep, dream and wake up in the morning. He planned to spend it reflecting on the good parts of his past, maybe after getting a few drinks in the hotel bar.
Instead, he thinks about Monday evening, and there’s the slightest thrill of anticipation under his skin that shouldn’t be there. He shouldn’t be thrilled. Thrill is too close to hope. Hope is too close to having something to live for. And he can’t believe in that, he would just be deceiving himself; and it would make it that much harder to say goodbye.
But as he falls asleep, he can’t help hearing the tiny part of his mind that whispers, Maybe there still are things worth living for.
PART TWO -------->
Second: this is a fill for a prompt on angst-meme (careful, spoilers in the prompt; TRIGGER: SUICIDE PLANNING, but you know me, happy ending), cleaned up and beta-ed by punkkitten2113 (mwww-ahh!). It was supposed to be a short one-shot. Ahem. 11 000 words later...
Enjoy? :)
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ONE GOOD DAY
He knows the feeling all too well. The disappointment, the quiet despair, the thought that there must be more to life than that. More than the everyday grind of the job he hates and coming home to cold silence, only to reheat dinner left for him in the fridge, stare brainlessly at bad TV shows, and go to bed.
When Blaine was young and idealistic… whoa, he’s barely 22, he just graduated from college, why does he sound like his own grandfather all of a sudden?
Anyway, when Blaine was an idealistic teenager, he used to believe that life had a purpose; there were so many goals to reach, countless things to do with days that were always fleeting, too short, not enough. Where are his goals now? Earning money so he can afford nice things and look down his nose at his peers just doesn’t feel worth all the effort. And other things - things he might want - he can’t have. Love. Family. Music. Passion. Kids.
At least not the way he wants them.
It’s not that he didn’t try. Of course he did. Fresh with the relief of leaving Yale with a BA in Business after four unbearably long years, five months ago he gathered all his courage and went to see his father. He naively believed that after doing what was expected of him and graduating with honors, he’d have some sort of leverage. That his father would have a reason to be proud of him at last; that he’d be placated enough to say that of course, he had nothing against Blaine’s plans to ask his boyfriend of two years to move in with him.
He couldn’t have been more mistaken.
He learned a lot of things that afternoon. That of course he graduated with honors - he was an Anderson, business was in his blood. That now it was time for him to move back home and start his career in the family company - from the very bottom of course, no preferential treatment. All according to the plan that’s always been there. Too bad Blaine had known nothing about it. And what, a boyfriend? Was he crazy? There was no place for deviations in a respectable businessman’s life. It was time for him to settle down with a nice girl and forget about these ridiculous teenage experiments.
Stunned though he was, Blaine did try to argue. To rebel. What if he wanted to work somewhere else? The answer was calm and immediate. He’d get disowned, of course. Same if he insisted to bring shame on the family, keeping up his openly homosexual conduct. It was his choice.
So he made a choice - or so he thought. He stormed out of his father’s office, caught the plane back to New Haven and that same evening asked Ben, his boyfriend, to move in with him.
And got promptly rejected. It turned out that while Blaine was hoping for them to live together, Ben was ready for them to break up. And even though it was true that their relationship was more about comfort and compatibility than true love or great passion, it hurt. It really did. It hurt even more when it turned out he had no one to get miserably drunk with, because none of their friends were actually his friends too.
Blaine spent two months afterwards trying to find a job that would let him earn a decent living on his own. But he was just a graduate in a sea of graduates, and eventually he had no choice but to pack his things and go back to Ohio to accept his father’s conditions.
And here he is now, the wayward son with his head hung in defeat. After waiting for four years to be free, he’s more of a prisoner than ever. Without hope or perspective to actually live. Because this? It’s not life; he might as well be dead. Frankly, he’s not sure if it wouldn’t be more exciting than this.
It’s just this thing at first, a silly phrase. I might just as well be dead. Except he keeps thinking it, randomly, in various situations when he can barely stand the boredom and lack of inspiration that fill his days. Yes, Mr. Kutner. Right away, Mr. Kutner. Yes, I’ve put the files in alphabetical order, Mr. Kutner.
Blaine feels like screaming every time he enters the company’s building in Columbus, tension winding tight in his chest, choking him. This is what hell feels like, he thinks. Just a flow of identical days, doing work you hate without a chance for it to change, ever. An eternity of this. I think I’d rather be dead.
Then, somehow, he starts imagining it.
Cutting the string of unbearable monotony. Rejecting his father’s Great Plan once and for all. He spends boring meetings amusing himself with planning the best way to die. Car crash? No; messy, painful and there’s too much chance of survival. Cutting? He’s not sure he could go through with it. Gun to the head? He has nowhere to get one. Hanging? Absolutely not, with his strangulation phobia. Pills? Hmm… pills…
Blaine has a small stash of pills at his disposal, incidentally. A bottle of strong painkillers from having his wisdom teeth removed surgically - untouched, because Advil turned out to be enough. Sleeping pills he needed on several occasions in college, when the stress was too much. Antidepressants he took for two months before stopping because he felt worse on them than without them. If he took all of these, they could work, couldn’t they?
Before he knows it, he’s checking it online one evening, poring over suicide advice sites. He’s not even surprised that he’s reading things like this, and without a blink. It’s just research. He likes to know things.
The pills would be more than enough, he knows an hour later. Especially if he chased them down with strong booze. Excellent. He’s got everything he needs, then.
And just like that, it’s a decision.
He’s waiting for his mind to protest; for some kind of reaction. A decision like this should evoke intense emotions, shouldn’t it? Out of sheer survival instinct, if nothing else. And yet, nothing - nothing at all. Indifference. He’s calm like a lake surface on a quiet day. He could do it now, swallow the pills without batting an eye, and fall asleep. Just like that.
So maybe - ? There’s nothing to put in order, no one to say goodbye to, no last letters to write. No one cares; not his cold, distant parents, not his friends - the old ones forgot, he has no new ones - no significant other. No one has truly cared about Blaine for a long time; he just hasn’t realized until recently.
In fact, now that he thinks of it, stretched on his bed, staring at the ceiling - the last time he felt cared for, felt like he mattered, just felt, was over four years ago, with Kurt.
Kurt.
He might be the only one who’d care that Blaine died. Probably. If he hasn’t forgotten. Which, of course he hasn’t. You don’t just forget your first love. It always stays with you, like a brand on your heart. Impossible to erase even if you want to.
Blaine knows; he tried. The months after they’d broken up, filled with too much pain, too many regrets and emotions, until he decided to cut all contact in an effort to numb himself. Now, numb to the bone, he’d rather take the pain. Anything but this.
He falls asleep fully dressed on top of his bedspread, and when he wakes up, he knows, with absolute clarity, what to do.
He’s going to find Kurt, and meet him one last time. Not to say goodbye - just to talk, about anything really; to remember what it’s like to feel good.
And then he’ll come back here, to his parents’ big empty house, and kill himself.
Finding Kurt is easier than Blaine thought it would be. His fingers tremble slightly when he opens Facebook and types the name he’s tried not to think about for a long time.
Kurt Hummel. Deep breath. Enter.
And there he is - smiling at Blaine from his profile picture, bright and carefree, his eyes scrunched in amusement. He looks more mature than when Blaine last saw him; his cheekbones more pronounced, his hair adorably messy. He seems to be having the time of his life and Blaine feels a pang of envy that he suppresses immediately.
Why wouldn’t Kurt be happy? He went to the school he’d dreamed of to study what he was passionate about. His parents didn’t pressure him into forgetting about musical theatre and pursuing a more practical career. Yes, he was upset and hurting for some time after they broke up, but the decision was mutual and it seems that he’s happy again now. And Blaine’s glad to see it. He really is.
He can’t see much information on the page, since he’s not listed as Kurt’s friend, but after a short search, he finds what he needs.
Location: New York City
Not that Blaine had much doubt about it; Kurt was in love with the city, he always wanted to stay there after college.
There’s no info about relationship status available, but there’s probably a boyfriend there somewhere, who may not be happy to see Blaine coming to meet Kurt. But he’ll cross that bridge when he gets there; it’s not like he intends to do anything to intrude on Kurt’s life, anyway. He just wants to meet for lunch. Or maybe coffee. Drinks? Spend an hour or two with Kurt, talk a little. Feel good for a change - if only for one last day.
Yes. He’ll take a day trip to New York - no expectations, no detailed plans, no regrets; he’ll make it as good as possible before leaving this dreary world behind him.
Now, how can he actually find Kurt in New York?
The thought of calling any of their old friends and asking for Kurt’s address gets discarded almost as fast as the possibility of calling Kurt himself. Even if any of them still have their old phone numbers, and even if they could and wanted to help him after such a long time, Blaine doesn’t want Kurt to know he’s coming. There’s a chance Kurt might not want to see him, and as impolite as Blaine knows it is, he can’t take the risk. He needs to see his first love one last time. Besides, all his life he’s lived by the rules - always well-mannered, polite, thoughtful - and look how much good it did him. He might as well forget about the rules and manners; he’ll be dead soon anyway.
As he keeps looking through the page for any clue on where he could find Kurt in the vast city, Blaine notices a link in a side panel: A HOUSE IS NOT A HOME. Curious, he clicks on it, and he’s redirected to a website of a small interior design and redecorating company. Owned by one Kurt Hummel.
Blaine clicks through the gallery of projects Kurt worked on - cozy, inviting apartments with every bit of space carefully planned - and his heart clenches painfully. He can see Kurt’s taste, his hand in every single one, can easily imagine the two of them living in any one of these. And they could have. Yes, they’d split before Kurt went to New York, deciding that it was better this way, but if Blaine had gone to study at NYU when he graduated a year later, like he was supposed to - wanted to - there would have been a chance for them still. Probably.
But he didn’t.
Feeling suddenly weary, he navigates out of the gallery and looks for any contact information. There it is - address of the office, opening hours. Everything he needs. Noting it down in his dayplanner, Blaine leaves the website to search for the best connection to New York.
Half an hour later, everything’s planned. It’s Wednesday. One more day of work, and then he’ll take Friday off and go to New York on the early morning flight. He’ll meet Kurt, then maybe have a good dinner by himself, or just enjoy the city; he’ll spend the night in a hotel and return the next day.
He’ll die on Saturday night.
Kurt’s company is located in an obscure building on a side street, but the office looks inviting. Judging by the front window, that is. Blaine wouldn’t know about the inside, since he’s yet to get over the sudden bout of nerves and enter.
Since he arrived just after nine, Blaine managed to check into his hotel, change into more presentable (and less wrinkled) clothes, and sip slowly at a medium drip in one of the many coffeehouses while looking through a newspaper. Then, he took a walk. It was fourteen blocks and he was in no hurry - Blaine’s plan was to take Kurt out for lunch, so he still had time to enjoy the warm day like he hardly got to do lately, to watch people milling around and peek into store windows. And to fight the doubts that appeared out of nowhere and kept growing the closer to his destination he was.
Is it a smart move? Is that fair, to either of them, to just force this meeting upon Kurt? Won’t Blaine regret this?
This last thought actually forces a burst of bitter laughter out of him now, as he’s standing on a sidewalk opposite Kurt’s office. What will it change? In the massive pyramid of regrets he has, one more would make no difference. Not when he’ll be dead in about 36 hours, anyway.
Shaking his head, Blaine crosses the quiet street and opens the door to the office. Even this space radiates Kurt’s taste - a small sofa and two armchairs around a low table, a quality coffee machine, colorful pillows and simple sketches on the walls discreetly completing the picture. There’s a long, curved desk at the back of the room, with a laptop, neat piles of catalogues, fabric swatches and color samples. The other half of it is covered with huge sheets of paper with hand-drawn designs. The well-dressed young man leaning over the papers straightens up when the door shuts with a click, and -
“Blaine?”
Kurt’s eyes widen, his lips frozen in a small “O” of surprise, and the next instant he’s on Blaine, hugging him tightly and laughing with delight, leaving him dazed and light-headed. He smells of a different cologne than he used to, but Blaine’s body recognizes the voice, the touch, the scent of pure Kurt underneath, and reacts viscerally. He has to remind himself to pull back after a moment, because it feels so natural, so right to be there, in Kurt’s arms.
Light is dancing in Kurt’s blue-green-grey eyes as he smiles, wide and happy.
“Oh my god, I can’t believe it’s you! I’ve missed you! Please tell me you’re not dropping by just to say hello?”
Blaine has to smile; Kurt’s fire, his pure enthusiasm, is unchanged.
“No, I hoped you’d have time to eat lunch with me. I happen to be in New York for a day.”
Kurt actually bounces a little.
“I have a meeting with a client in ten minutes - just a short one, looking through the final plans. Come upstairs, to my apartment. I’ll get you coffee and join you in half an hour, tops. And then I’m kidnapping you for the rest of the day, so make sure to cancel all other plans. There’s no way I’m letting you escape my company when I finally get to see you after all this time!”
Two flights of old, squeaking stairs later, Kurt opens the unlocked door and gestures for Blaine to come in, a smile never fading off his face.
“It’s not much, but it’s home. Shoes off and make yourself comfortable. Do you want coffee?”
“Thanks, I had some earlier.”
“Okay, I have something else I think you may like.” With that, Kurt darts into the kitchen and Blaine is left to curiously stare around.
The apartment has two levels. The lower one is just one big open space with spiral stairs in the far corner, leading up. The kitchen looks modern and carefully planned, all steel and dark wood, with a small dining nook by the window. The lounge area seems bare by comparison. There’s just an old sofa with one matching armchair, a coffee table and a TV on the empty white wall.
“Yeah, I know, you’d think I’d design my own place first, right? I did everything but this room - I can’t get the feel here. I’m waiting for the inspiration to strike but there’s always something lacking,” Kurt says as he brings a plate full of cookies and a tall glass of milk to the coffee table. Something aches deep in Blaine’s chest, sending shockwaves of grief he thought he was over all through his body. “Oatmeal and honey, I hope you still like them?”
He has to swallow to dislodge the thing stuck in his throat, but his voice still comes out hoarse.
“I- I never had them again after - “
Kurt’s eyebrows arch up in surprise. “Why not? You knew the recipe as well as I did.”
“They reminded me of you too much.” Blaine’s voice sounds almost normal now. It’s okay. They’re both adults and it was a long time ago. Time heals everything, right? They can act normal around each other after five years. Of course they can.
“Oh.” There’s a slight pause then, and Kurt smiles again, something almost tender in the line of his lips. “That’s why I keep making them all this time. They remind me of you, in the best ways.” He turns and strides to the iPod dock on the windowsill, turning on some soft music, before looking back at Blaine. “I have to run back down, I must finish adding this one last-minute idea to the plan. Make yourself at home; bathroom is upstairs. I’ll be back soon.”
With Kurt gone, Blaine heads to the bathroom first, catching a glimpse of a very solitary bedroom on his way, all in reds and creams, pictures and books everywhere. It looks like this is Kurt’s sanctuary, his place to relax and recharge.
Back downstairs, Blaine settles on the couch that turns out to be quite comfortable, and reaches for a cookie. It tastes like heaven and sweet memories, cold milk a perfect way to complement it, just like he remembers, and before long, calm contentment spreads through Blaine’s body in a warm sleepy wave. True, he barely slept last night, emotions stirring and distracting him, and this morning he walked so much more than he’s used to lately, and this couch is so very nice, everything like a cocoon of wellbeing. He’ll just close his eyes for a couple of minutes, to let them rest. Well, maybe his neck too, it’s a little strained and this pillow here looks so inviting…
He’s feeling warm and safe, the sweet smell of fresh cookies still wafting in the air, and oh yes, it’s truly a good day. Mm, so good…
Blaine wakes up slowly, the sound of someone singing quietly nearby leading him gently towards awareness. Before he manages to switch his brain back on and remember where he is, Kurt’s smiling face appears over him and Blaine sits up quickly, his face burning.
“Oh god, I’m sorry, I dozed off. I - “
Kurt’s laugh sounds like a silver bell. “It’s okay. I took longer than I thought I would anyway. So we’ll just have lunch here instead of somewhere more classy - come on, it’s ready.”
The table is set with colorful plates, tall glasses of orange juice bright in the sun streaming through the window. Kurt shrugs as they sit down.
“I wish I’d known you were coming, I’d have gone grocery shopping. Oh well, Greek salad and toast will have to do. But later I’m so taking you out to dinner. You do have the evening free, right?”
“I do.”
Blaine’s mind is still fuzzy from the impromptu nap, but this he knows for sure: today, he has all the time in the world. For this one day, he’ll live like it’s all that’s left.
Because it is.
The food seems tastier than anything Blaine’s eaten in years and he feels like he’s back where he belongs, here in Kurt’s company - and even though he knows it’s just an illusion of normalcy, he’s perfectly fine with it. Today, the reality doesn’t matter. Today, the world is his; whatever he chooses to see and feel, it’s alright. Today he won’t try to have control over his life.
The conversation flows as if they parted just days, and not years ago. Kurt is chatty and curious, laughing easily, his face even more expressive than it used to be. It’s like he’d given up on all his carefully built walls and defenses, and allowed the world to see him the way he is, in all his beautiful complexity. Blaine can’t take his eyes off of him.
Obviously, Kurt wants to know what Blaine has been doing all along - so he tells him, censoring it a little to make it all seem like his own choices: the business studies, coming back home, working at the family company. It’s so easy to talk calmly about it now, the indifference fresh and perfect. Blaine’s decision about what’s going to happen tomorrow has already freed him from the resentment, the anger, the disappointment - it’s the past, it’s over. It doesn’t matter.
If Kurt is surprised by his choices, he doesn’t say anything - he listens in attentive silence until Blaine finishes, and only asks him one thing then.
“Are you happy?”
And Blaine is momentarily stunned, the simple question cutting into him like a sharp blade. Is he? Right now, he is. In general? Of course not. But it doesn’t matter anymore, and he has no intention of admitting it to Kurt. It’s Blaine’s one last good day; he won’t ruin it like that. So he finds a smile before he answers, “I’m good. Now tell me about you - did you decide to give up on your Broadway dream after all?”
Kurt laughs, eyes sparkling.
“No, of course not - I act, but it’s not Broadway yet. So I design for money; it’s a fun job and it pays well.”
“How did you get into it?”
“By accident, really. I helped a friend in college redecorate her place once. She was delighted with the result, the word about my help came out, and soon I had another friend ask me, and another… It turned out I was good at it. So I decided to try doing it professionally - and three years later, here I am.”
Kurt’s whole face is alive when he talks - about the places he designed, the theater he works for, the support line for gay and questioning teens where he volunteers whenever he can; and Blaine doesn’t have to ask to know that he’s happy. It radiates from Kurt with every word and every smile. The amount of energy he seems to have is astounding.
“Wow, you busy bee. When do you find time for a boyfriend?” Blaine can’t stop himself from asking about that. Kurt’s smile never wavers, still open and honest as he waves his hand dismissively.
“I don’t. I’ve dated several guys in college, but none for too long - they didn’t feel right for me, you know? So after some time I decided that I needed to learn to be happy by myself first, before I can be happy with someone else. I think the right man will come when I’m ready. And if he doesn’t, I’m good with that too. I refuse to settle for anything but true love.”
A bit of a blush has crept onto Kurt’s cheeks, but Blaine barely pays attention now. With a pang, he remembers Ben; the years spent with a man that was good enough, but so far from being his true love. The number of compromises that came way too easily for Blaine, only for the comfort of not being alone; just to have someone to call his. Kurt’s voice brings him back to the present.
“What about you? Any lucky man by your side?”
“Not anymore.”
And Kurt must have some sort of sixth sense, because he doesn’t ask, as if he knew exactly when Blaine didn’t want to talk about certain things. So they don’t. They end up on the couch with cups of coffee, chatting for hours, about everything and nothing - from gossip about old friends to discussing the current LGBT community state around the world. Afterwards, Blaine won’t remember the details of their conversation, too focused on Kurt’s eyes, face, the fleeting touches of his hand as he gestures lively, but now he just feels good. Happy, contented, welcome. No difficult topics to discuss, no past pain to dig through. Just Kurt and his warmth, just what Blaine needed.
With darkness falling, they move their conversation to an adorable Italian restaurant, a tiny place hidden in a back street, that serves the best lasagna Blaine has ever tasted and delicious wine from a small family winery.
It’s late, almost midnight, when they walk back to Kurt’s apartment, and Blaine knows that his time is running out. And it’s fine. There’s no doubt in his mind. He got what he came here for - he got much more, thanks to Kurt’s vivacity, his joy and contagious smile. He comes up for one last coffee with his only true friend, his ex-boyfriend, ex-lover, the only man he’s ever truly loved. And when the cups are empty, he kisses Kurt’s cheek, says an easy lie about trying to stay in touch from now on, and leaves the cozy apartment and its beautiful owner.
New York lights welcome him like a friend when he goes out into the street, alone. He doesn’t look back.
Not until he hears Kurt calling his name, at least. He stops and turns then.
Kurt is leaning out of his kitchen window, for the first time today looking unsure somehow. Or maybe it’s just a trick of the light and shadows, because the next instant he’s smiling again.
“Wait a moment!” His head disappears from the window and Blaine makes a quick mental inventory. Did he leave something upstairs? His phone, bag, jacket - everything seems to be in its place. Before he can start to wonder, though, the side door to the building opens and Kurt runs out. He’s by Blaine’s side in five quick strides, and yes, he does look unsure. What the -
“I know you said you have to go back tomorrow, but is there any chance you could stay till Tuesday?” Kurt asks quickly, a little winded.
No is the obvious answer. He can’t, he’ll be busy on Tuesday. Most likely with his own funeral. Instead, what comes out of his mouth is, “Why?”
Kurt looks almost pleading now.
“We’re performing on Monday evening, it’s the last time before we start with a new show, and I hoped - I… I’d really be happy if you could be there… for me. You’ve never really had a chance to see me act, not in anything major, and just… It would mean a lot.”
Blaine’s resolve starts to waiver slightly - he shouldn’t, but… what would it change, really, if he died three days later than he planned? Kurt is doing this thing where he looks at him from beneath his eyelashes when he adds, “And then there’s this party afterwards, to celebrate the successful run of the show, and I’ll understand if you say no, of course, but I thought maybe you could be my plus one?”
Damn, he’s playing dirty now. That look… Kurt knows perfectly well that Blaine can’t resist it, he never could. He takes a deep breath. Fine. His pills aren’t going anywhere. His father will be furious that he’s taking more time off, but whatever.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” The joy on Kurt’s face tells Blaine that he didn’t hold much hope in convincing him, so he smiles reassuringly.
“Okay. I’ll stay until Tuesday.”
Kurt bounces a little on the balls of his feet. “Perfect! Thank you! I’ll call you in the morning and we’ll go out for breakfast.” A quick, tight hug, and Kurt is gone, back to his apartment.
Lying in his hotel bed half an hour later, Blaine can’t quite believe that Kurt was able to influence him so easily, even after so many years. It was supposed to be the last night of his life - or, at least, the last one when he got to sleep, dream and wake up in the morning. He planned to spend it reflecting on the good parts of his past, maybe after getting a few drinks in the hotel bar.
Instead, he thinks about Monday evening, and there’s the slightest thrill of anticipation under his skin that shouldn’t be there. He shouldn’t be thrilled. Thrill is too close to hope. Hope is too close to having something to live for. And he can’t believe in that, he would just be deceiving himself; and it would make it that much harder to say goodbye.
But as he falls asleep, he can’t help hearing the tiny part of his mind that whispers, Maybe there still are things worth living for.
PART TWO -------->