[Reversebang] Change of Luck, part 2
<---- BACK TO PART 1
----------------------------------------------
CHAPTER 3
Present day
Blaine spent the rest of the flight hidden safely behind his closed eyelids and his iPod headphones. He didn't want conversation with any of his suddenly talkative neighbors, he just wanted to think. Needed to think, or he'd burst with the sudden hurricane of emotions and memories that one look at the handsome flight attendant had brought.
Of course, he was no random flight attendant. He was the man who'd given Blaine the most magical 24 hours of his life, followed by the deepest despair he'd ever felt. It was safe to say that Kurt had made Blaine feel things, and feel them to the extreme. And now, by some divine (or maybe cruel) coincidence he was here, on the same plane, high up in the sky, with nowhere to escape. For a crazy moment, Blaine's overloaded brain seriously considered hijacking the plane only to make Kurt talk to him before they landed - because he was absolutely certain that the minute they'd touch the ground, Kurt would disappear again. His panicked face had told Blaine as much.
And Blaine couldn't let it happen, not this time, if only so that he'd get to ask why. Maybe he'd find some closure, some peace if Kurt told him that it had been just a game, an acting exercise maybe, or a dare he'd made with friends. Or that he just liked to break hearts, got some kind of thrill out of it. Anything, including that what he'd said he felt was just as untrue as every solid fact about himself he'd given Blaine. It would be better than the eternal uncertainty and incomprehension he'd lived with for the last three years.
Living in a dream for a day, finding what you thought was the perfect man, only to lose it all without explanation the next morning was so much worse than never getting the taste of what it could feel like. Maybe if he'd never have met Kurt, never realized what it felt like to love someone from the very first moment, to know it was right and true - maybe then he'd have been able to be happy with Mark. Maybe he would have learnt to overlook the cracks and the blandness of their relationship, and fight harder, sacrifice more. Be satisfied with what he got.
Shaking off the bitter thoughts, Blaine pushed his brain towards more productive paths: how could he find Kurt when he got home? What tricks and contacts could he use to learn more about him, now that he knew he worked for these airlines? Because so far, he hardly knew anything.
Three years ago, he'd woken up in his hotel bed after unquestionably the best night of his life, aching in ways that made him smile with memory of long walks and physical exertion, and activities that were new and more amazing than he'd believed possible, only to find Kurt gone without a trace. It was during these first hours, when he'd still hoped for a knock on the door, a phone call, a message, that Blaine had realized just how little he actually knew about the man he felt like he'd known forever. No last name or date of birth, nothing about where he'd come from apart from the fact that it was a homophobic small town, which could be anywhere. No current address or phone number, because they'd had no need to exchange those yet. And knowledge about that moon-shaped little birthmark right on Kurt's hipbone really didn't help anything.
During the next days Blaine had run out of the facts he'd thought he'd had about Kurt, every single one a dead end. There was no Kurt at NYADA, he's learned from their way too naive secretary. The theater Kurt was supposed to be working at had never heard of him. Neither had the coffee shop where he said he was a regular, or the hairdresser he was supposed to be almost friends with. By the end of Blaine's stay in New York even the finger-shaped bruises on his hips - tiny marks, indelibly connected with the memory of Kurt's angelic face in delight and awe, his voice breaking over Blaine's name, high and breathless - marks that were the only tangible evidence of Kurt's existence, faded away, leaving him empty-handed and wondering. Sometimes he almost doubted that day and night had really happened.
For weeks and months afterwards, even when Blaine no longer walked around like a zombie or felt like he had broken glass inside his chest instead of a heart, when he'd gone back to studying and practicing, throwing himself into his college work like a madman, he would still periodically drop everything for a day or two and search. He was obsessed with finding Kurt. The internet's possibilities kept him hoping for over a year. Facebook, Twitter, Broadway and NYADA chatrooms, Google images - he'd been getting more and more desperate. Still, nothing. Kurt was like a ghost.
And then Blaine had met Mark.
In all the time that had passed since that night, Blaine had questioned everything, including his sanity, but never his feelings. He knew what he'd felt with Kurt. He still felt it with unwavering certainty. It sounded absolutely crazy, but Kurt was the love of his life. Still, dreams and memories don't make you less lonely. So when Mark had tried hard to get his attention, Blaine caved. He was good-looking, interesting and Blaine liked him a lot. Life went on; Kurt wasn't coming back. It was time to move on.
Except Kurt's shadow had always been there, invisible, but leaving no doubts, by comparison, as to what Blaine didn't feel for Mark. This couldn't end well.
And now, in a single day, Mark had left him and out of the blue, he'd met Kurt again. If it wasn't proof that fate existed, Blaine didn't know what was. He fully intended to do everything in his power to talk to the man that had been plaguing his thoughts and his dreams for so long.
***
Kurt got back to work after a short break, but he stayed away from serving drinks and confined himself to the safety of the economy class compartment for the rest of the flight. There wasn't much to do for most of it, so while staying back and helping with small, routine tasks, he could freely mull over the decision of what to do. He knew it was an extraordinary chance, life giving him one more shot at the happiness he'd felt for a fleeting moment, years ago, and missed ever since. His heart had no doubts; anxious and excited in equal measures, it pounded and sang and pushed him to go, explain, apologize, try. Try and see if the void that his actions had left in his life, the one that no one had ever been able to fill, could be healed in spite of everything after all this time. But his rational mind whispered poisoned words about ridicule and shame, and soiling beautiful memories with harsh reality.
What helped him decide in the end was something his father used to tell him so many years ago: It's better to try and regret it than regret that you haven't tried.
CHAPTER 4
Blaine knew it was unlikely that Kurt would be the one standing by the door when they landed, and he was right. But it was the girl who brought him his second drink instead, so that made it easier to explain anyway.
"Excuse me, how could I get to speak with your friend? You know, the one who um... spilled the drink?" Okay, it didn't come out right.
The girl was clearly wary, even under the mandatory friendly smile. "He’s been reprimanded, sir, and he's sorry. If you wish to file a complaint, you can do so by phone or email. All the information is on our website."
"No, no, it's not about that at all, I just wanted to talk to him. Could you maybe just give me his name or a way I could contact him?"
Her pretty face was still a mask of helpfulness, but there was an almost hostile edge in her voice when she answered. "I'm sorry, sir, it's against the airline policy. Please move on. I hope you had a nice flight."
Blaine nodded, thanked her and went. It was no use insisting; he'd have to try other ways. Fortunately, he now knew where Kurt worked. He thought of his plan while walking through the jetway. By the time he reached the terminal, he already knew what to do next. He'd look through the airline website first, maybe they had a section presenting their flight crews. If not, he could email them to ask about Kurt, saying that he wanted to thank the helpful flight attendant for something - maybe he'd get a contact address or at least a last name. He could call their information line, too, or look through discussion boards, or -
"Hello, Blaine."
Or see Kurt waiting for him by the terminal door.
He was so certain that Kurt would run again, for whatever reason he'd had in the first place, that seeing him now, real and waiting for him, was a shock that rendered him speechless for a moment. His face must have looked blank because Kurt blushed, his voice stuttering a bit.
"Um, you probably don't remember me. I'm -"
"Kurt." He couldn't stop himself - didn't want to try; the next instant Kurt was in his arms, warm and solid and so very real, and Blaine's senses remembered immediately. It felt like he'd held him like that just yesterday. He whispered coarsely. "I've been looking for you forever."
No matter how cheesy it may have sounded, it was the truth. Years had passed, and Blaine still startled when he saw people vaguely similar to Kurt on the street; still felt his heart clench whenever he went to see a play on Broadway and instinctively looked for Kurt on stage and off. He still saw him in his dreams so often that he could probably call him an imaginary friend by now.
It was as if Kurt was waiting for it - for reassurance? confirmation? - because his arms circled Blaine's waist now and held tight, as if he never wanted to let go. Blaine relaxed into the embrace, stunned and incredulous and happy - and concerned when he heard Kurt's breath hitch and felt moisture seeping against his temple. He loosened his hold to look the other boy - man now - in the tear-filled eyes.
Kurt tried for a watery smile, but it faded almost immediately, substituted by misery so heavy that Blaine felt his heart crack a little.
"Kurt, what's wrong?"
A choked, broken sound escaped Kurt's lips and he took a few deep, steadying breaths before he could speak, his voice wavering anyway. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I lied to you, I'm sorry I left like that, I'm sorry -"
Blaine hugged him close again, his hand stroking Kurt's back in little circles. "It's okay, we're both here now, it will be okay..."
He really, really hoped it was true.
It took a few minutes before Kurt's shoulders stopped shaking and his breathing grew even, but Blaine was more than okay with standing like this however long, despite the curious glances from people passing them. But even those weren't that frequent - it was an airport; emotional scenes were a natural part of this place.
Finally, Kurt pulled away and sniffed slightly, Blaine immediately fishing a Kleenex out of his pocket and offering it to him. Kurt smiled as he took it.
"I'm sorry, I haven't even asked if you don't have a transfer to catch or some place else to be."
Blaine hurried to shake his head. Nothing was more important than meeting Kurt now, and certainly not his empty apartment.
"No, I'm just going home, and no, I'm in no hurry. I live here in New York now."
He saw Kurt's jaw drop a little at that. "For how long?"
"Two years. I've decided to come here for my Master's."
Kurt shook his head, his eyes wide, and Blaine felt another wave of emotion sweep through him. Kurt was here, he didn't run and he looked even more beautiful than when they'd first met, no longer an ethereal-looking teenager, but a man now, his chest wider but his whole frame just as lithe, the muscles of his arms filling the sleeves of his white shirt. Suddenly he realized that they could find a better place to talk than a terminal entrance. Plus, he should probably move on to customs soon.
"I know it's late, but could we get out of here and go sit somewhere? Grab a coffee, perhaps?"
Kurt looked around as if he, too, had forgotten where they were, then stifled a yawn.
"As much as I don't want to say that, I'd probably fall asleep on the table. I've crossed the Atlantic twice in three days and I'm exhausted. I always crash after this shift, so -"
"No, of course, I understand." It was hard to keep disappointment out of his voice, but Kurt grabbed his hand.
"- so maybe, if you don't have to go right home, we could go to my place? I want to talk to you. I need to talk to you, and this way, if I crash, I'll be close to my bed."
Blaine grinned so hard he might have pulled a muscle. "Yes! I mean, I'd love to go and talk. If it's no bother to you, of course."
"Blaine. I wouldn't offer if it was. Come on." Kurt made a move to go, but Blaine stopped him.
"No, wait. One more thing first. Give me your full name and phone number. I'm not going to let you vanish again."
Kurt laughed, biting his lip in the most adorable expression of self-consciousness Blaine had ever seen. He dictated his number to Blaine, who immediately saved it to his phone, and added, "It's Kurt Elizabeth Hummel, if you insist on knowing my full name."
Blaine raised an eyebrow and smiled. Then he called the number to make sure he had it right, but he got a generic voicemail. Kurt fished his phone out from the bag on his shoulder and switched it on. "Try now."
The phone rang this time and Kurt saved the number before putting it back in his bag. "Shall we?"
CHAPTER 5
The cab ride passed in silence, as if they both just realized the enormity of their meeting and needed to come to terms with it. Blaine knew he did, at least. Kurt - well, he might have just been tired, judging by the frequency of his yawns and his drooping eyelids. At one point his head dropped onto Blaine's shoulder, rendering him immobile, afraid to move and disturb the achingly perfect familiarity of Kurt's presence.
Kurt sat up immediately when they stopped and only then was Blaine able to look away from the face that he'd missed so much, and through the window at their destination. He looked - and let out a sound that was halfway between a laugh and a groan. Kurt looked at him, a question in his eyes.
"We are maybe a ten minute walk from my apartment." He shook his head. "I've been looking for you everywhere, and all along, you were right here, walking the same streets, shopping at the same stores. I can't believe we've never crossed paths."
Kurt squeezed his hand, his voice a little breathless as he spoke. "I still can't believe you searched for me."
The driver cleared his throat and that broke the spell. They paid - Blaine insisted on covering the whole sum, but Kurt would have none of it, so they ended up splitting - and then took their bags and went up the stairs to Kurt's third floor apartment. Kurt paused before opening the door, his face a bit anxious.
"It's tiny, and probably a bit shabby for your standards, but it's home."
The apartment really was small, just a living room with a kitchenette, a small bedroom where nothing beside a bed really fit, and a bathroom. When they stacked their suitcases in the living room, there was barely enough space to move around. Still, the rooms were tidy without a pedantic feel, and truly cozy, with bright walls, books and knick-knacks everywhere. There were no photos or art on the walls other than a framed Wicked poster.
Blaine went to wash his hands and face after the long flight and Kurt excused himself to his bedroom for a moment to change from his work uniform. He used the bathroom on his way back and then joined Blaine in the living room wearing comfortable yoga pants and a simple white t-shirt. His hair was mussed and he smelled pleasantly of soap.
"Coffee? Juice? Water? I'm afraid I don't have anything else."
"Juice will be fine."
Kurt took the three steps to the kitchenette and returned with two high glasses of orange juice. He sat beside Blaine on a small but comfy sofa, the size of it bringing them close, and sighed.
"So. I owe you an apology."
Blaine cut into his words. "Kurt, you don't owe me anything. Do I want to know why you disappeared? Yes. But I don't expect explanation. I just... I would really, really like for you to be in my life. In whatever way you want, just here. I still... I know it may sound strange after all this time and considering how long we've actually known each other, but I meant every word I said back then, Kurt. I still do."
Kurt looked at his own hands, but Blaine heard the tears in his voice anyway. "I did too. I mean, about what I felt. The rest..." He sighed deeply. "I do owe you an explanation so that you can make a fully informed decision if you still see anything interesting in me."
Blaine wanted to protest, say that no matter what Kurt said, he would feel the same, but he understood that Kurt needed to let this out. And he did want to know. He stayed silent, but took Kurt's hand in his, a silent support. Kurt's voice was emotionless as he started.
"My mom died when I was a kid, my dad in my junior year of high school. He'd spent several months in a coma because I refused to pull the plug, so the medical bills ate all the money that we had and a lot we didn't. When I learned that I got accepted into NYADA three years ago -" Seeing Blaine's surprised look, Kurt nodded. "Yeah, I wasn't a sophomore. I would have been a freshman if it didn't turn out that after selling the house and my dad's garage, and paying off all the debts, I had hardly any money at all. No family to help, too late to get a scholarship... I came to New York anyway, if only to escape the dreadfulness of Lima, Ohio."
Blaine stiffened. "Kurt... I'm from Ohio too. Westerville. We grew up two hours from each other."
Kurt stared at him, bewildered, before he shook it off and continued, his hand in Blaine's holding tighter now.
"The day I met you was my last day before starting full time work. I was resigned to start a mundane, uninspired adult life, nothing like the dreams I had. And then you came, the boy straight from my fantasies, the perfect ray of sunshine. I just wanted my one last day of youth and freedom to be happy. So I lied to you, because if you knew how boring I was, with my failed life and my coffee shop job, you'd want nothing to do with me. And by the time I realized I wanted you in my life for so much more than a day, it was too late. You already saw me as the character I created. I couldn't have admitted I lied, could I? And I'm so sorry, Blaine. Walking out of that hotel room was like tearing my heart out of my chest, but I know I hurt you too and I'll understand if you go out of here and never contact me a- unf."
Whatever else Kurt wanted to say ended up muffled by Blaine's chest as he hugged him tightly, kissing his forehead, his temples. God. Over the years, Blaine had thought of countless hypotheses explaining Kurt's disappearance. A boyfriend. Reluctance to get emotionally attached. Even drugs or problems with the law. So what he felt right now was in equal parts relief, heartbreak for Kurt's pain and incredulity. Finally, he moved his hands to Kurt's shoulders and looked in his eyes.
"You silly, crazy man. You really think it would have mattered? I don't care about your education or your job, I fell in love with the brilliant, witty boy with a sharp tongue and intelligence that kept me on my toes all along. With the gorgeous creature who looked like an elf, moved more graciously than I'd believed possible and laughed in a way that made my heart sing. It doesn't matter if you're in college and on a Broadway stage where you belong or if you make coffee for a living, I love you, Kurt. You, the way you are. I did then and I do now."
Tears were flowing freely down Kurt's cheeks now, and Blaine felt himself choke up too. They lost so many years over something so small... He leaned back against the armrest and pulled Kurt with him so that they half-lay on the short sofa. He kissed the tears off Kurt's face, not reaching his lips yet, and felt him relax against his chest. After a while, he asked,
"So what happened after you left? How come you are a flight attendant now?"
Kurt sighed. "I came to New York with a plan to save for college and start at NYADA a year later, two at most. It didn't happen. Coffeeshops don’t really pay that well, so even when I was living with friends from my high school, I wasn't able to save much. And then they got married a year later and started hinting about having the place for themselves, so I moved out. Carole - that's my stepmother-would-have-been, my dad dated her when he had his heart attack and she took me in for the rest of high school - anyway, she mentioned she'd read an article about the reality of flight attendants' work and suggested I could try. It pays much better than being a barista... And here I am. If nothing changes, I may be actually able to finally start at NYADA next fall."
Kurt sounded sad and tired when he finished and Blaine ached with a need to comfort him somehow. He ran his fingers through Kurt's hair, the way his mom used to when he was a kid, and Kurt hummed and angled his head for more. He looked like a cat wanting to be stroked. Blaine needed to know one more thing.
"So there's no special man in your life right now? No one I need to quietly dispose of before I get to kiss you?"
Kurt inhaled sharply at the last words, then tried to cover it with a small laugh. "No. I tried a few times, but it never felt right when I still remembered how it was with you. How about you?"
Blaine silently thanked Mark - "Single" never sounded so sweet.
Kurt's voice was a little husky, his breathing shallow. "So... what were you saying about kissing?"
They fell into each other and it felt like coming home, like heaven and a summer morning after a night storm, like every perfect thing Blaine could think of. They kissed and kissed, and then kissed some more, and only when Kurt's mouth went a little slow and sloppy, his head getting heavy on Blaine's shoulder, did Blaine realize just how exhausted he must be. He pulled away; they would have tomorrow. And the day after. They had time, now, the miracle of time together.
"Come on, let's get you to bed."
Kurt opened his eyes and sat up reluctantly. The little pout on his face and his sleepy eyes shot a wave of tenderness through Blaine like he hadn't known before.
"Mm, no, I'm fine. I don't want to say goodbye to you yet."
"We can meet in the morning." He didn't want to say goodbye either. Ever. But Kurt needed sleep.
Kurt's eyes were closing again. "No, don't go," he whined. "Can't you stay until morning?"
Blaine's heart sped up. He wanted nothing more than to stay, but -
"I could, but are you sure?"
Kurt could barely open his eyes anymore. He wasn't joking about crashing. "Yeah. Just... hold me?"
"I'd love to. Come on then, off to bed with you, mister."
He helped Kurt get up and led him the few steps to the bedroom where he proceeded to flop on the bed like a ragdoll.
"Do you sleep in your clothes? Should I bring you your pajamas or something?"
Kurt tugged at his waistband in a weak attempt to pull it down. "Mm, pants off. Then sleep."
Smiling to himself, Blaine pulled off Kurt's pants - he'd never known how innocent and simply caring this act could be - and then pulled the covers from under him and tucked them around him instead. Kurt hummed happily and snuggled into the pillow.
"I'll be right with you; I'll just get a little freshened up." Blaine went to take a quick shower, brush his teeth and put on fresh boxers and a t-shirt before switching off all the lamps and climbing into bed with Kurt.
He was in bed with Kurt. And it wasn't a dream, this time. They were here, together, they got their second chance. And Blaine knew he'd do anything to use it well.
Kurt, though fast asleep, rolled into Blaine's arms the moment he lay down. Falling asleep has never felt so good.
***
Kurt woke up, feeling rested and relaxed, everything warm and comfy around him. The light filtering through his eyelids let him know it was late morning already, but Kurt had had such a lovely dream that he didn't feel like opening his eyes just yet. So he didn't, just wiggled his hips to try and relieve a little of the discomfort that the more intimate parts of the dream caused. Maybe he should get himself off...
But the moment he moved, he realized that he wasn't alone. And it didn't happen often, and not at all in the last several months and dear god did he drink last night? What did he do? And with whom? No, wait, he was still dressed and there wasn't even the tell-tale discomfort of dried come in his briefs, so maybe he didn't do anything much?
And then -
"Good morning, love."
Kurt opened his eyes, his heart already swelling and remembering, disbelieving but ready to take off and fly. And there he was.
Amber was the most beautiful color in the world.
THE END