One Good Day (one-shot) - part two
<------ PART ONE
Blaine’s phone chirps at 8, ungodly early for Saturday if you ask him. He considers ignoring the call, especially since it’s from a number he doesn’t know, but eventually he picks it up and mumbles into the phone, half-asleep still.
“Mmph?”
“Rise and shine, sleepyhead. Still not a morning person, I see?” Kurt’s voice is awfully cheerful, but then again, he never held a grudge against mornings. Blaine feels something warm and fuzzy spread in his chest; being woken up by Kurt’s voice used to be his favorite part of the morning. Apparently, he still feels the same way.
“It’s Saturday,” he grumbles half-heartedly.
“It’s a beautiful Saturday. And I’ll be in the lobby of your hotel in fifteen minutes with coffee and bagels, so get up.” Kurt hangs up, not waiting for an answer, and somehow, Blaine doesn’t even feel like whining. It seems his one good day just got prolonged. He’s not going to complain.
He showers and gets dressed quickly, even going as far as giving up shaving for the day, but still, Kurt is already waiting in the lobby when he gets off the lift. His smile is blinding.
“Medium drip, sir. And an authentic New York bagel.” He hands Blaine a stiff-bottomed baggie and takes a sip from his own cup, sighing with delight. “Mmm. And now come on, we’ve gotta run or we’ll be late.”
“Run where?” The smell of coffee already makes Blaine’s brain work better, and he’s pretty sure he knows nothing about anything they could be late to this morning.
“To The Hope Spot. That’s the support line I told you about. I have a shift today and you’re coming with me.” They’re walking already, in the fast-moving stream of people hurrying somewhere despite it being Saturday morning.
“Why?” Blaine’s not sure how he feels about this.
“Because you’ve survived being a gay teen in Ohio; you’re a good, compassionate listener and there’s never enough people there on weekends.” Kurt shrugs like it’s obvious, and Blaine stops, rooted to the spot, barely avoiding collision with a woman walking behind him.
“Wait, you want me to answer calls? From troubled teens? Kurt, I’ve never done anything like that!”
Kurt just smiles, grabbing his hand and pulling him along. “Shush. You’ll do fine. You understand what they’re going through. You can offer support. You know it gets better. And if there’s a call you can’t handle, you signal to one of the supervisors to join the conversation.”
Blaine still feels uncertain, but Kurt’s hand holding his, warm and firm, effectively steals his voice away. Kurt doesn’t let go until they enter a narrow grey building on a small side street five minutes later, holding Blaine’s hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and god, it is. It feels that way.
But then they’re in a big room filled with cubicles and voices, and Blaine doesn’t have time to think anymore. A big black guy in his forties with a name tag spelling Duncan greets Kurt with a hug, and once he learns that Blaine will be helping today - not that anyone asked him about that - he gives him a quick lesson in talking to the callers. After listening in on three calls that Kurt takes, Blaine’s ready to sit in his own cubicle. Or at least as ready as he can be. The phone starts to ring and he picks it up with trembling fingers.
"The Hope Spot, Blaine speaking."
When they leave the building eight hours later, Blaine’s mind is reeling. He’s talked with so many kids - questioning, lost, scared; bullied and unaccepted by friends and families due to their sexuality; kicked out of their houses and rejected by their first loves - that he starts wondering how he survived his own teenage years, having gone through some of the same ordeal. Of course, he had Kurt - that was the essential difference.
Just as Kurt promised, Blaine did fine - after initial nerves, he was sucked into the conversations, listening, comforting, offering advice and earnest words of support. He had to ask Duncan for help once, when he got a call from a boy, barely twelve, who talked about wanting to die because of being bullied at school. By the end of the conversation, when the older guy managed to calm the kid down and convince him to talk to his mom, Blaine realized that his hands were shaking with relief. It was just a kid, with so much life before him, so much to see and experience - and almost ready to give it all up, balancing on the thin line between life and death.
The realization hits uncomfortably close to home, but Blaine shrugs it off. It’s not about him. It’s different.
A bit surprised, he realizes that he’s exhausted, but somehow elated at the same time. He did something meaningful today; something that helped someone, sent a message of hope and acceptance, brightened the darkness of someone’s day, if only a little. It feels good, doing something that makes sense, giving a bit of himself to others.
Kurt walks in silence beside him, looking as tired as Blaine feels. He shakes it off after a while, though, the smile returning, though sadness still lingers in his eyes.
“Sorry I’m so quiet, I had some tough calls today.”
Blaine feels that he has to ask. “Kurt, why did you take me there today?”
Kurt’s smile is a little shy. “I just wanted to spend some more time with you while you’re here, and I promised to come in today… Was it a terrible idea?”
“No, not at all. Just… unusual. But in a good way. I got to experience something new. Thank you.”
There’s relief in Kurt’s smile. “So, early dinner? We can make pasta at my place. I’m too broke at the moment to take you out anywhere decent, sorry.”
That successfully shakes Blaine out of his musings.
“Well, we ate lunch in yesterday, and you paid last night, so - Let me take you out to dinner?“
Kurt shrugs. “If you want to. But I make some mean pasta, you know.” He chuckles lightly. “It’s a perfect dish on the lean days just before the paycheck comes, so I have quite a bit of experience with it.”
Blaine lets the topic go, but he brings it back once they’re sitting in a colorful Mexican restaurant, recommended by Kurt.
“I thought you said design pays well.” He says once they’ve ordered.
“It does, but this is New York. It’s not exactly cheap to rent an apartment and an office, so sometimes I have to tighten the belt between paychecks.” He smiles, carefree. “I don’t mind. I get to do what I love in the city I chose as mine. I’d do it even if I had to live on Ramen noodles and coffee.”
Something tugs at Blaine’s heart at Kurt’s words, but he ignores it, at least until he’s lying in the hotel bed that evening, Kurt’s goodnight kiss still lingering on his stubbled cheek.
Thoughts crawl and poke at him, unwelcome and carrying too much truth, making him itch and wiggle in his skin. Voices from his headphones at The Hope Spot. Memories of his early high school dreams of being a teacher or maybe a social worker, of helping people. Kurt’s contentment with life even when money and love are scarce. His words about doing what you love. Thoughts that burrow in Blaine’s brain and undermine the very foundations of his life.
He makes himself stop. It’s not his life, here. It’s not his reality. He’s not Kurt, strong and courageous, boldly reaching for what he wants. He’s just himself, and his life will end in three days. But before it happens, he’ll let himself experience what he can.
Kurt’s in rehearsals for the whole day on Sunday, both for the Monday performance and the new show the group is working on, so Blaine has hours for himself before they meet for dinner at Kurt’s place that night. There are two things he absolutely needs to do - call his father to let him know he’ll be absent from work for the next two days, and go clothes shopping. The initial plan was to go back home after one night, so he only took his carry-on with some essentials - there are definitely no clothes appropriate for a theater outing and a party there, even if Kurt said it’s not really a formal dress occasion. To be honest, Blaine has no clean clothes left, so he decides to deal with this first thing in the morning.
Of course, first thing turns out to be almost noon, because they talked long into the night again, and Blaine decided to sleep in just because he could, but soon enough, after a quick run to the GAP two streets over, he’s back at the hotel with a pair of jeans and a couple of t-shirts, some underwear and socks. A shower, brunch and he’s ready to conquer the more classy stores to look for something worthy of Kurt Hummel’s party date. Or, okay, not a date. But still, his plus one can’t look anything less than great.
Shopping takes most of Blaine’s day and provides him with surprising amounts of fun. It’s been years since he felt the need to dress to impress someone. In college he stuck to jeans and t-shirts, with occasional cardigans, and his current job requires boring, simple black suits at all times. Ben wasn’t one to appreciate fashion, either, and the one time Blaine wore one of his bowties on a date, he could clearly see his boyfriend’s disapproving glances. So he never did it again. His drawer at home is still full of his favorite accessories, untouched for years.
He doesn’t go for a bowtie this time. After hours of going through the racks and trying on dozens of things, Blaine decides on a simple combination: tight-fitting black pants, crisp white shirt, open at the neck, and a velvet suit jacket in wine red. It’s not overly formal, but classy, and he has a feeling Kurt will like it as much as he does. Thankfully, Blaine’s body is still lean and toned, and the outfit accentuates it quite nicely.
After he comes back to his hotel room to deposit the bags, there’s only enough time to leave a message in his father’s voicemail before he has to run to Kurt’s. At one of the street corners there’s a girl selling red-fringed yellow asters, and Blaine can’t resist them, they remind him so much of Kurt’s bubbly personality. Soon he’s standing at Kurt’s door with flowers and a bottle of Italian wine, feeling like he’s on a first date for some reason. Which is silly. It’s just dinner with a friend.
Nothing more.
Kurt opens the door, wearing a bright grin and an outfit that momentarily steals Blaine’s breath away. The way Kurt looks in blue jeans hugging his body, and a simple black v-neck clinging to his chest reminds Blaine achingly that once, he was allowed to look and touch and love this gorgeous man.
Also, that it’s been over five months since he was intimately close to anyone, and even longer since it meant anything more than sex.
Shaking it off quickly, he hands Kurt the wine and flowers, earning a delighted squeal and a hug, and damn, he thinks, way to find the most inappropriate moment to remember just how hot your ex-boyfriend is.
“Come in, I’m just starting the water for pasta.” Kurt dances - literally dances - away to the kitchen, looking for a vase, his body alive with music flowing from the speakers. Blaine leaves his shoes in the hallway and follows him, ending up leaning against the back of the sofa.
“You have astonishing amounts of energy for someone who spent eight hours in rehearsals today.”
Kurt laughs and sets a vase with the asters in the center of the dining table. “Ten hours. But it was amazing. The new show is coming together great despite the songs being written in a rush. And I’m always energized after rehearsals. I mean, I like designing, but the stage is where I come alive, you know?”
Blaine nods. He still remembers the feeling.
The iPod in the corner switches to a new song, one that makes Kurt wiggle his hips and laugh brightly before starting to sing along. Blaine knows this one - they sang it together more than once, both being fans of this particular musical. So when he doesn’t join in after the first lines of Ding Dong, The Witch Is Dead, Kurt stops and looks at him with concern.
“Hey, did you forget the words?”
“No. I kinda… I don’t sing anymore.” Blaine looks away, unable to face Kurt with the confession he never intended to make. How does he explain giving up something that used to be like breathing for him?
There’s a moment of silence between them, only music in the background filling the room with teasingly happy notes, and then Kurt’s voice is right by Blaine’s side, his hand on Blaine’s shoulder.
“Blaine… what happened?”
He shakes his head, still not looking at his friend. “Nothing. I just… I chose a different way.”
“Well yes, but it doesn’t mean you can’t sing!”
“I can’t.”
“Why?” The tone of Kurt’s voice changes from confused to worried, and Blaine finally finds it in himself to look him in the eyes. So close, the ever-changing swirls of grey-green-blue stun and enchant him anew. The truth slips from his lips without a conscious decision, a broken whisper.
“Because it hurts.”
“Oh Blaine…” Then Kurt’s arms are around him and Blaine lets himself sink into the embrace long enough to get himself back together. Kurt strokes his back, warm little circles against the thin cotton. “You said Yale was your decision. Was it really?”
Blaine raises his head from Kurt’s shoulder, his eyes dry. “Well, I agreed to it. So it was.”
“But it wasn’t what you wanted.” It’s not even a question.
“No. But it’s done. It’s just… sometimes I wonder.” Like every single day, perhaps. “I wonder where I’d be today if I chose music. If I’d have been able to go through college with no money from my parents. What I’d be doing for a living now.”
If we’d still have been together.
He doesn’t say it out loud, but it hangs in the air between them, heavy with meaning.
Yale was the last straw in their relationship, already stumbling under the weight of pre-college stress and Blaine’s insecurities. When Kurt learned that Blaine decided not to apply to any school in New York the following year, he wasn’t angry. He froze. And the next day they had the final conversation, deciding - mutually - that five years of long distance relationship was not something they wanted. So it was better to break up.
Was it? Blaine’s heart still tells him otherwise. But what’s done is done.
Kurt touches his cheek now, light like a butterfly wing, shaking him out of his thoughts.
“Well, I think you’d be doing great. There are plenty of places where you could work with music in New York - singing, writing, teaching -“
Blaine can’t listen to it, it hurts too much to even think about the future - present now, really - that he could have had if he’d made different decisions years ago.
“Kurt, don’t.” It comes out sharp, a snap, so he softens his voice, pleading now. “Please, don’t. I don’t want to talk about it.”
His friend’s eyes linger on his face a moment longer, concerned, inquiring, but then he nods. “Okay. The water is boiling, I’ll go pour the pasta.”
The dinner conversation is stilted for a while, a dark cloud hanging over the table, but soon they settle back into their comfortable spaces. Kurt talks about his theatre and the show they wrote themselves, about his ideas for a loft he’s redecorating, about Rachel’s Broadway debut. Blaine is mostly quiet, just listening to the melodious voice and trying not to imagine himself here - in New York, in the artistic little world. In Kurt’s life.
They part around eleven, because Kurt has a busy day tomorrow. Blaine’s ticket for the show is tucked carefully in his day planner - they won’t get to meet before, so he’s supposed to go backstage after it ends. All details planned, he’s ready to leave when Kurt touches his hand, his eyes worried again.
“Blaine… You’re not happy.”
And he was never able to lie to Kurt, not convincingly - not that he really wants to try now. There’s no use.
“No. But I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
“I will be. I promise.” It’s not a lie, is it?
Kurt looks doubtful, but doesn’t say anything.
It’s like Blaine’s brain is cheating on him the next day. No matter how much he tries, he can’t stop thinking about music. It’s everywhere - in elevators and stores, in Central Park and subway stations, in coffee shops and his own head. It’s attacking him from all directions - street musicians seem to occupy every corner, karaoke places blink invitingly, bars look for singers for evening entertainment. Teenage Dream blares from someone’s phone during lunch and Blaine suddenly has to leave the bistro, air too thick around him. He can’t escape it, no matter how he tries.
And oh, is he trying. He’s been so good at it too - had to be, after over four years. The day before he left for college was the last one when singing gave him more pleasure than pain. Moving to Yale was like crossing a border, like a point of no return. Ever since then, the realization that music can never be anything more than a hobby for him, that he practically threw away his talent, dreams and years of hard work, all for his father’s approval, choked him up every time he tried singing or even listening to his favorite songs. He got miserable and spent days sulking afterwards.
So he stopped. It got easier with time; after a year he was finally able to completely ignore all the background music surrounding him everywhere; he stopped bursting into song in the shower or after a few drinks.
Except now all the practiced indifference is gone, there’s music all around him and of course, all he can think about is what if.
The problem is, Blaine could have probably had it all. Music, passion, the love of his life still with him. Or at least a fighting chance. Except he got scared. Scared of his parents’ disapproval, of having to support himself in New York if he chose anything else than what they wanted for him. Scared of his father’s visions of starving musicians and disrespected teachers. Bullied into half-believing he only wanted New York because of Kurt. So he caved. And now he’s paying for it. He’s living his father’s dream instead of his own, and hating every minute of it - despite earning good money instead of possibly living off tips or a music teacher’s salary.
Shit. It’s really easier not to think about it. It’s not like he can change anything about it now, can he? So what’s the point?
By the time Blaine gets to the theater in the evening, he’s feeling tormented by all the thoughts and doubts. But as soon as the show starts, everything else gets pushed to the back burner of his mind, because - Kurt.
Blaine watched Kurt perform before, of course, but it was all in high school and mostly just singing and dancing in Glee. The only acting part of Kurt’s he’d seen was Officer Krupke in West Side Story during his senior year, and it wasn’t a role that let Kurt spread out his wings, really.
But now he does - literally. And Blaine can barely breathe from the minute Kurt appears on stage in the opening scene.
It’s just a voice at first - the voice he’d recognize anywhere, sweet and crystal clear like it was back in high school, but so much stronger now, trained and practiced, shaped into a diamond. It flows smoothly from the complete darkness of the stage, cuts through the packed theater, echoes around. There are no words, just a pure, serene melody, full of longing and quiet sadness. And then the lights slowly go up, and there he is.
He’s standing over a sleeping man, the stage empty except for a bed, and Blaine gasps. Kurt’s shirtless and barefooted, simple white jeans the only thing he’s wearing. Well, these - and the wings. They are huge, spread maybe four feet on each side of Kurt’s bare shoulders. Made of pure white feathers, they are fastened to his chest with a leather harness, embracing him snugly. Kurt’s skin, always pale, seems almost silvery now; there are a few blue feathers in his hair, and his eyes, encircled with dark eyeliner, look like bits of summer sky. His appearance, his voice - he’s spectacular, and as Blaine watches on, it becomes clear that Kurt is the star of the show, even though he’s not the lead, just a guardian angel of the main character. He speaks little, sings more, but his mere presence in almost every single scene pulls focus.
He’s brilliant, there’s no doubt about it. The way his face expresses the whole spectrum of emotions and reactions so clearly without the need of a single word being uttered, the way his body moves - he’s not playing the angel; right now, on this stage, he is one. There’s no doubt in Blaine’s mind that Kurt’s place is on Broadway, and that sooner or later, he’ll get there.
And by the time the curtain falls the last time, one more thing is blatantly, painfully obvious.
Blaine is still in love with him.
Kurt is waiting for him by the backstage door, his wings already off, naked chest shimmering in the bright lights, and Blaine’s heart loses a beat. He’s not sure what to do with his discovery - so fresh, yet not new at all. He feels vulnerable, like his realization is written on his forehead for everyone - and certainly Kurt - to see; like he can’t trust his mouth anymore, unsure if a confession won’t just jump out any second now. And Kurt doesn’t make it any easier, leading Blaine to his dressing room by the hand, beautiful and half-naked, muscles of his back and arms alive under his sweaty skin, the messy hair and sparkling eyes even more breathtaking now, when he’s so close. Fortunately, Kurt is still riding the adrenaline and endorphins high, oblivious to Blaine’s lovestruck stares and incoherence that would be a dead giveaway otherwise.
People are milling around, but nobody pays them much attention - not that Blaine cares when he pulls Kurt into a hug.
“You were absolutely amazing! Your voice, your acting, your looks… You were the brightest star up there and I can’t wait to see you on Broadway where you belong. You just… you take my breath away.”
Kurt laughs, delighted and happy, pulling away from his embrace.
“Stop, silly, you’ll get glitter all over yourself and that would be a pity. You look dashing tonight, if I may say. Oh Blaine, I’m so glad you came and that you liked it! Just, let me shower, I’m all sweaty and disgusting.”
By the time Kurt appears again - clean, fresh and fully dressed - Blaine’s had time to gather his wits enough to be able to talk like a sane person, only a little bit rambling still. Right on time, too, since the party is about to begin. It turns out that it’s being held right there, in the theater. Kurt quickly styles his hair into a sexy - um, adorable, that is - mess, and they follow the stream of chattering, laughing people downstairs into a brightly lit large cellar, filled with music, laughter and alcohol.
It’s not like any party Blaine has ever attended - different both from his parents’ formal fetes where he’s always close to passing out from boredom, and college parties with all the dancing and way too much drinking. Although, surprisingly, it’s closer to the latter than the former. There’s plenty of alcohol, but food on the buffet provides more than enough sustenance; there’s music and a dance floor for those who feel inclined to use it, and tables all around where people sit and talk - really, truly talk, not just exchange pleasantries. But most of all, there’s an atmosphere here that has Blaine charmed in a matter of minutes.
Artistic is really the only word that truly fits. People here - both the theater staff and those who accompany them - are open and talkative, and interesting. No one is trying to hide their individuality, their quirks or passions - on the contrary, these seem to be things to focus on and celebrate. Blaine has to remind himself not to gape like a country boy when he watches the crowd - barely-there miniskirts and stilettos next to evening dresses straight out of the 50s, corsets - and not only on women - and suits, colors and glamour, the amalgam of styles. Conversations flow and mix overhead, about recent premieres, sex, and acting, someone’s drug problems, and books worth reading. There are no taboos, it seems.
As Kurt leads him around, introducing him simply as Blaine, no one asks him what he does for living or where he lives. Instead, a middle-aged woman wants to know if they’re an item (Kurt says they used to be, for which he gets a smack on the ass and an indignant Are you crazy, Angel? Letting such a stud go?). A flamboyant man comments appreciatively on Blaine’s outfit. Someone else asks him what’s his thing. When he’s not sure what to say, Kurt cuts in.
“Music and acting. And songwriting.” When Blaine gapes at him, Kurt smiles mischievously. “What? I’ll convince you to go back to it, just give me some time.”
Kurt’s relaxed and loose, silly after a few drinks, and Blaine’s had several himself, and soon he finds himself deep in conversations with people - about acting and music, culture and beauty, about joy. Surprisingly, he’s really enjoying himself here. Being able to simply be himself among these people, in every single aspect, feels amazing - like bursting out from a prison he was so used to that he stopped realizing it was there. He feels alive. He feels more than he’s felt in years.
Kurt comes and goes, talking to people too, and at some point he pulls Blaine to the dance floor to slowdance, his body too close and too hot, making Blaine groan inwardly with desire. He lays his head on Kurt’s shoulder and lets himself be carried by the music, letting it in, allowing the melody to move him, and moving with it.
Time flies fast and soon it’s 2 a.m. and people start trickling out in pairs and little groups. There’s no cab in sight when they leave the theater, so they start walking and somehow Kurt’s hand is in Blaine’s, and it feels too good to stop this connection, so he doesn’t. His mind is a little fuzzy and a lot content, wondering lazily if there’s a chance that Kurt still feels something for him, too. They are silent for a long while, happy just to walk through the night city, until Kurt asks suddenly,
“Do you have any regrets? Something you’d change if you had a chance to go back in time?”
“Plenty.” He answers without thinking, because it’s so obvious, but he doesn’t elaborate. The night is too good to ruin it. “You?”
“Just one.” Kurt doesn’t explain either, and it’s fine. Blaine loves how comfortable they are with each other, knowing when to speak and when comfortable silence is enough.
A cab stops at last, so they get in and Kurt gives his address, never letting go of Blaine’s hand. After a moment, he puts his head on Blaine’s shoulder and closes his eyes, and Blaine could ride like this forever, New York mysterious and beautiful, a quiet murmur of the cabbie’s radio, Kurt’s warmth seeping into his skin. And then they are stopping at their destination, and Kurt raises his head, his face serene and honest.
“Stay the night.”
And just like that November night years ago, after a high school musical, alone with Kurt on the stage, Blaine can only nod, entranced, and whisper, “Okay.”
They are in the kitchen when Kurt kisses him, soft and tender, and achingly familiar. Their bodies fit perfectly against each other, like they always have, instincts take over as if they only parted yesterday. Their hands and lips remember; every touch, kiss, every sound is like coming home.
And yet, there’s so much to remember and discover again, and so little time. So they don’t lose any. There’s no need for words and questions. Silence is their music as they undress each other unhurriedly in Kurt’s bedroom, sounds of kisses and gasps, moans and whimpers taking over and filling the cozy space as they proceed.
Blaine doesn’t think about anything besides this moment. There’s no past or future, just them, so close, the way they used to be, the way it was always supposed to be. Kurt’s body is so well-known to him, and yet so different - harder in some places, more sculpted, firm, no trace of a teenager left. There are some scars Blaine wishes he knew the history of, and some new reactions proving that just like him, Kurt lived and learned in the five years that had passed.
But the awe and desire between them is unchanged, the reverence with which they touch each other’s skin before their hunger prevails and there’s no stopping the avalanche then. Hands wander everywhere, lips find new pathways over bare skin, and when Kurt kneels between his parted legs, his hands anxious and impatient, and asks, “Blaine, can I - ?”, the answer is immediate, bordering on pleading: “Yes. God, please, yes.”
Kurt’s fingers, though noticeably more practiced now, are just like Blaine remembers them, like he recalls every time he needs to get off, and when Kurt slides in, slowly, but so surely, it’s like they click back into their places. No one ever felt as right as Kurt; no one ever will, Blaine knows that now.
He’s always thought that if he knew that their last time was, well, the last, he’d make sure it was much more special, more memorable. So he does that now - saving every second in his memory, making every touch count. They make love - kissing, caressing, prolonging it as much as they can, and when they can’t make it last any longer, they fall into the sweet fulfillment, together. They drift off in each other’s arms, sated and where they belong.
Blaine wakes up first, morning sun tickling his eyelids, and it only takes seconds to remember where he is. Kurt’s body still feels like heaven, molded against his back, but in the morning light everything looks different. There’s no regret - just love and gratitude, but the enchantment of the night is gone, substituted by the reality of the day. It’s Tuesday. Blaine has to be at the airport soon. He kisses Kurt softly one last time, takes a moment to etch his picture into his memory, and quietly slips out of bed.
He’s downstairs, putting on his shoes, when the stairs creak behind him. Kurt has his pants on, but he’s still shirtless and sleep-mussed, a bruise marking the place on his shoulder where Blaine bit when coming last night. His face is completely open and vulnerable as he stops right in front of Blaine.
“Stay with me.”
He shakes his head. “I can’t. My plane takes off in three hours.”
“I know. What I mean… I know you have to go. You have your life back there. But let me just say this, okay? Please.”
“Okay.”
“I wish you could stay with me here. I only have one regret, and it’s us - breaking up, not trying harder, letting life come between us. I never stopped loving you. I keep dreaming about you here with me, sharing this place, arranging the lounge together, getting back what’s always been ours. No one else was ever right the way you are, and I think no one else will. I just want you to know, Blaine.”
Blaine doesn’t say anything - can’t say anything, really, so Kurt just kisses his cheek.
“Have a safe flight. And please, please, stay in contact?”
“I will. I have to run. Kurt... thank you.”
If it was a romantic comedy, Blaine would probably never get on his plane. He’d turn back halfway there and drive back to throw himself into Kurt’s arms. Or he’d go home for a couple of hours only, to pack his things and quit his job, before returning to New York. And then they’d live happily ever after.
But life isn’t a romantic comedy. So it doesn’t happen.
Instead, Blaine picks up his things from the hotel and rushes to the airport. He gets his coffee on the way, so by the time he’s boarded, his brain is mostly awake. Then he spends the flight quietly freaking out.
Because here he is, all of a sudden, standing in front of the door that could change his life if he decides to open it and go through. But the decision is even more difficult than the one he had to make five years ago. If he takes the chance, he’ll have to leave behind everything he knows - he’ll be disowned and unaccepted, he’ll have no money, no job, no education fitting what he wants to do. He’ll be starting from the very bottom, in a place that’s not only unknown to him, but also competitive and expensive. He’ll have nothing.
Except love. And passion. Some talent and skills, a lot of drive; desire to succeed, his intelligence and charisma. Kurt by his side.
It’s not an easy decision, in spite of everything. There’s too much fear and deeply ingrained doubts, too much need to please and fit in. Eventually though, Blaine realizes one thing - and it makes him start in his seat, eyes wide. In the last 36 hours he hasn’t thought about dying - not once. In fact, the whole idea looks pathetic and stupid all of a sudden. Then, there’s only one choice, clear and obvious.
But it’s still not a romantic comedy, so he takes his time. He gets off the plane with a fully formed plan in his head, and the first thing he does at home is throw away the pill bottles.
The second is calling Kurt to ask if he really means it.
Then there are two tough weeks filled with being a responsible adult - managing his money, going through his things, talking with his parents. They don’t understand, of course, don’t approve of his decision, but at least he can say he tried as hard as he could. He has some savings, and he’s ready to start wherever he can, even if it’s working as a barista and singing in bars. He knows what he wants, and sooner or later, he’ll get there.
When he appears on Kurt’s doorstep, it’s not a surprise. His boyfriend is waiting for him, which makes the welcome home kiss even sweeter.
It isn’t until years later, a week before their wedding, that Blaine tells Kurt why he sought him out in New York that day. He just wants it out in the open, no dark secrets left between them when they say their vows. He expects shock, maybe even disappointment, but there’s none in Kurt’s stormy eyes.
“I knew, honey. But thank you for telling me.”
“You knew? But how? I’ve never told anyone.”
Kurt smiles sadly and cuddles closer in the morning mess of tangled sheets.
“Your eyes, that first day. I… I knew that look. I saw it before.”
There’s not enough air in the room all of a sudden.
“Where?”
“In the mirror. The days before I came to Dalton, I… I never told you, but you probably saved my life.”
THE END