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Saturday morning, Kurt closed his eyes, savoring the bitter taste of hot coffee while sitting at a table in the Lima Bean. He took a deep breath, trying to ward off the tears. He had spent the whole night crying, only managing to sleep an hour or two. His eyes felt like two balloons, over-inflated and ready to explode. He rubbed his temples, trying to ease the pain.
Kurt considered himself a scrupulous young man, yet he couldn't help telling himself how stupid he had been. Touching the red mark left from his engagement ring, he wondered what had been going through his head. It resembled a scar, the indelible wound left by his broken heart.
He was supposed to be getting married in just six weeks at the end of May, after all.
When Kurt saw them together, he knew what was going on without needing to ask questions. He had let himself in with the key he still had from his senior year. He cursed himself for arriving early, with a plate of cookies baked that morning and a DVD clutched in his right hand. He cursed himself because what he didn't know wouldn't have hurt him so much.
Blaine hadn’t been alone that afternoon.
It didn't happen like some Hollywood movie - there was no drama, or hysterical screams, or suitcases thrown out a window. It was all so simple, as plain as the nose on his face. He knew what he was looking at with such absolute precision that he couldn't even find the strength to be angry.
The other guy had his hand on Blaine's shoulder. They were talking quietly, but Kurt couldn't read their lips. Blaine's shirt had the first two buttons undone with his shirttail out, and it seemed that the guy's fingers were refraining from caressing Blaine's exposed chest with familiarity. They had had sex, repeatedly. Kurt knew that.
Kurt could sense that Blaine was asking the other man to leave quickly, possibly not forgetting anything that could have indicated that someone else had been there. Blaine knew of Kurt's impending arrival. He knew they were going to see a movie, eat some cookies, maybe make love. Kurt would have touched the body of the guy he loved ignoring that that same body bore the marks of an afternoon spent fucking with another man. On the same bed.
Maybe Blaine wouldn't have even taken a shower.
Kurt dropped the DVD and the plate of cookies, which broke into small fragments.
"Kurt ..."
The silence seemed to last for hours.
Blaine's forehead was still streaked with sweat, and he looked around, avoiding Kurt's crystal eyes. He was guilty. They both knew it. The other guy, instead, was staring at Kurt, curiously.
They were getting married in May, and Kurt wondered if Blaine was thinking about it, looking at their photos on his nightstand, rolling in the covers with men he met who-knew-where.
The guy was tall, a little taller than Kurt, and had dark eyes. He looked a few years older and was wearing a red shirt and a simple pair of jeans. Medium attractive, anyone would have said, but Kurt couldn't think about it, too busy trying to keep himself from throwing up.
He could have asked Blaine how long it had been going on, but he realized it didn't matter. One day, one month, one year, one minute - nothing would change.
Blaine didn't try to lie, knowing how useless it would be.
"I'm sorry ..." he began disingenuously. He didn't finish the sentence, he couldn't.
Kurt knew that hearing anymore excuses from Blaine would make him hate him even more. He could see that Blaine held on to the idea that Kurt would look past the horror of what he had walked in on, that he would be able to find, yet again, the love that they had felt for each other.
He was Blaine’s “Kurt”, and “Kurt” knew how to forgive.
He closed his eyes because he could see it all in Blaine's pleading, yet certain and expectant, expression, and it disgusted him.
Blaine expected to be forgiven. Again.
Not this time, though.
Kurt pulled the ring from his finger and threw it at Blaine, without saying a word. No songs about cheating, no tears. Only silent disgust.
The ring hit Blaine on the forehead, and Kurt almost laughed.
He drove home. As he crossed the threshold, he greeted Finn and gave Burt a short hug. He smiled through gritted teeth when Carole asked him what he wanted to eat for dinner.
He locked himself in his room and stared at a photo of him with Blaine at Junior Prom. He grabbed it and threw it under the bed where he couldn't see it. He thought of Rachel, waiting for him in New York with Santana… and Adam. The man, who in spite of everything, had wished for him to be happy.
He began to cry before he knew it.
Another sip of coffee, the last one, Kurt told himself. He had a severe headache, and he couldn't think of what he was going to say to his father about the wedding. Burt had been supportive of the engagement, but as soon as he heard that they had set a date just a couple of months later, he made no secret of his wish for them to wait until they were older. But Blaine's promises had softened Burt, and the idea of two 19-year-olds united in marriage had suddenly stopped sounding so bizarre. The previous afternoon, Kurt had heard him mumble to Carole about a trip to France as a wedding gift.
His father and stepmother had decided to pay for their honeymoon. Fucking perfect.
Kurt was going to have to force himself to tell his dad that he knew Blaine was fucking with another man, or with many other men - he wasn't sure. Kurt resumed massaging his head, placing the now half-empty cup of coffee on the table. If Burt knew the whole story, he would probably need to stop him from grabbing a shotgun and blowing Blaine's brains out. It would have been terrible, especially since the idea of the cheater's brain scattered on the ceiling didn't seem so bad.
He had to get back to New York as soon as possible.
He wasn't going to see Adam again anytime soon, and for that he was incredibly sad.
Kurt had called him the night before, trying to keep the other man from realizing how tragic his situation was. Adam's voice on the phone was warm, sweet, like a kiss on the forehead or a caress on the face. Kurt had closed his eyes, ordering himself not to cry again. Adam would be back in England in less than a month - he had lost him.
Adam had asked him about the wedding, and Kurt had promised he would let him know the exact date in an email. He hadn't felt like telling him about Blaine.
He had started crying again within seconds after ending the call.
His coffee cup was empty. The time had come to tell his dad.
He had imagined how it would play out. He would go to Burt's shop and tell him about Blaine's cheating. Finn would listen, of course, and Kurt would politely ask him to call Carole to avoid telling the story a second time. Burt would hug him - his father always knew what was the right thing to do.
Once home, Carole would be there to lend her shoulder to cry on. She would offer to let him help her with decorating for Burt’s birthday party, even though he had planned to help anyway. It would be the only thing she could think of to distract him. He would do his best to pretend that the distraction had worked. He was leaving the next afternoon. He only had to keep it together for another 24 hours.
He had avoided taking any calls from Rachel or Santana. He wanted to tell them everything face to face. Rachel's disgusted expressions and Santana's swearing would lift his spirits.
"Hummel? What a surprise. I thought you were too busy in New York or planning your gay wedding to show your face around here again."
A voice interrupted Kurt's thoughts. Sebastian. Sebastian Smythe.
Kurt had hardly recognized him without the Dalton uniform.
The Prince of Westerville once again among the common people of the Lima Bean, he thought, with his annoying sarcastic grin painted on his lips. Kurt would have picked that voice out of a thousand, and he couldn't associate it with anything but low blows to his self-esteem. He was the last person Kurt wanted to run into.
Maybe he somehow smelled like Blaine, and Sebastian had followed him like a stray sniffing leftovers from a restaurant. Kurt didn't even want to think about it, yet he had to - maybe they had been sleeping together. Maybe Sebastian and Blaine had been in a relationship since he and Kurt had both been at McKinley. Maybe Sebastian had come to laugh at him because Blaine knew all the gay or bi-curious men who lived in Ohio very intimately, and Kurt was about to marry him. He wanted to die from embarrassment.
Sebastian placed a plate with an appetizing cherry-filled donut with icing on it on the table.
Kurt looked at it in disgust. He just hated the whole idea of eating at the moment.
"What’s with that face? I thought you loved pink."
Seriously?
"Fuck you. It's really not the right day to mess with me. One word about Blaine and the pointed toe of my Ferragamo boots will connect so hard that you won't be able to have fun in the toilets with your little friends for a very long time."
Old Kurt wouldn't have started a fight with anyone for any reason, or even used foul language so blithely, but the new Kurt was a completely different person, especially when facing one of the likely lovers of his ex-future husband.
"Oh," Sebastian said, clearly impressed by the new Kurt's bold attitude. He then lowered his gaze, focusing on the clearly agitated movements of Kurt’s hand fidgeting with his empty cup. He didn't see a ring. "Oh," he said again, with a new emphasis.
"Just tell me if you fucked him, Sebastian." Kurt raised his voice and some people turned to look at them, only to quickly lose interest. "I have to know!"
How long had Blaine pretended to love him? Was the guy he met on Facebook really the first?
Blaine had talked to Sebastian behind his back. They had texted and called. It wouldn't have been strange if there had been more between them.
Sebastian laughed.
This douche is laughing. Kurt was really about to say goodbye to his anti-violence policy.
"No, never been there.” Sebastian sat down at Kurt's table and took a bite of the donut that Kurt could barely look at. He chewed slowly and made approving sounds. "But I suppose someone else did," he concluded.
Kurt breathed again. Sebastian wouldn't lie about that, if he had been sleeping with Blaine he would have rubbed it in his face with pride. Could he trust him? Not that anything had changed, actually. As far as Kurt knew, at least two other men had had sex with Blaine while they were dating, and that was definitely two too many.
"I'm leaving," Kurt said, as he felt the tears threatening to spill over again. He thought he had cried enough, that the despair phase was over. Instead, he was living in it like an animal trapped in a cage.
"So I guess the big gay wedding of the year won't be happening.”
Sebastian finished eating the donut and wiped his lips with a napkin.
"What the fuck do you think?"
The new Kurt loved cussing. Or imagining beating up cheaters who used too much hair gel.
"Blaine had ‘I need too much attention to be monogamous’ written on his forehead, but you just didn't want to see it.”
Sebastian wasn't kidding him, he was fucking serious. And he was also right.
“Yeah, I'm an idiot! A stupid idiot!" Kurt was crying in front of Sebastian Smythe, and it was mortifying. “And you were right. He was too much for me."
Kurt grabbed the light jacket he had left on one of the chairs at his table and squeezed it in his hands.
"You wanted him, right? You wanted Blaine! You'll be happy now because he's all yours. Fuck him. Get with him. I don't care. Only you may have to wait. As far as I know, you are the last in a long, long line."
He had to go. To flee.
"I never wanted to fuck him.” Sebastian made a disgusted face. “I was playing him, and he seemed to like my attention. I wanted to know what you guys were going to sing at Regionals, and he provided exactly that. There's no fun in getting into his pants if everyone has already been there."
Everyone. With his boyfriend. His first love. Kurt put his hand on his stomach. He didn't eat anything, but he felt sick to his stomach.
"You, on the other hand," Sebastian continued, "You're not the type I'm usually interested in. Too much ethereal beauty and purity. But your ass... your ass should be placed in an art gallery."
What. What?
Kurt froze for a moment. The new Kurt, however different from the old Kurt, would never have imagined Sebastian Smythe appreciating any part of his body, let alone that part. He couldn't ask Sebastian to repeat those words because he wasn't sure he wanted to hear them again.
“I'd look at your ass, Hummel. For hours. And I would also do much more with your... "
"Fuck you," Kurt whispered again.
Kurt had to cut him off, and he didn't know how. He had probably just chosen the worst way.
“We could talk about it. In private. Without clothes."
Sebastian was grinning, and Kurt was feeling... weird? He didn't know how to describe that feeling. It wasn't something familiar.
He couldn't remember anyone who had complimented him ... in that way.
He had to say something, anything. A sarcastic comment, something that would make Sebastian understand that he wasn't interested, that he wouldn't be interested even in a million years – yet he said nothing.
"I have to go," he said again, and this time he didn't stop to wait for Sebastian to answer back.
"I'll be back in New York tomorrow afternoon."
Burt placed a grease-stained wrench on the shop floor and looked at his son with a bewildered air, tilting his head to one side.
“I thought you were staying until Monday morning. You said you and Blaine had to…” the mechanic raised his cap just enough to run his hand over his bald head “... make up for lost time."
He blushed, avoiding Kurt's gaze. He was not yet completely comfortable talking to his son about certain topics.
Kurt turned to Finn, who was devouring a sub sandwich and listening to their conversation with interest. Kurt had chosen the time during his lunch break with a specific purpose.
"He cheated on me."
He wanted to say more. He wanted to scream at his father what a horrible bastard Blaine was, he wanted to talk to him about how humiliated and hurt he felt, how that night, during his two hours of sleep, he dreamed of putting depilatory in Blaine’s shampoo bottle. Jesus… even wanted to tell him how Blaine wanted to take his virginity in the backseat of a car after getting drunk and dancing all night with someone else. And how Blaine had ignored all his protests about it.
Obviously, he said nothing of the sort. He limited himself to those few but clear words, feeling almost frightened. His dad had had a heart attack, and Kurt never forgot it. The details of Blaine's cheating were the last thing his dad’s health needed.
Kurt turned to Finn, who had angrily plopped his sandwich on the counter and was walking briskly towards them. Burt looked at Kurt as if he were an alien - with narrowed eyes and wide-open mouth.
"What do you mean he cheated on you?"
The meaning is fucking obvious, Kurt thought, but he forced himself to shut up and think of a way to sweeten his father's pill. He wasn't ready to hear the details of Blaine's promiscuous sex life.
Ideas popped into his head to say. Blaine preaches free love. Blaine loves meeting new people in a very intimate way. Blaine doesn't believe in monogamy. I was going to marry a fucking son of… He refrained from saying any of them.
"Did he do it again?!" Finn grabbed Kurt's shoulders, and Kurt could feel his anger through the grip of his fingers.
With those words his father would realize that Blaine hadn't been able to keep it in his pants for more than two weeks after he moved to New York, and he would take the blame for everything, feeling absolutely awful. Blaine had been his Christmas present for Kurt. Burt had been essential to their reconciliation.
Fuck.
Kurt should have thought about it and kept Finn out of the conversation.
"Again?" His father's voice suddenly went low. “Did he do it again? Has he cheated on you more than once?"
The situation was serious, and Kurt had to find a way out of it. Faking a faint, an epileptic fit. Or escape, run for his life and take the first plane to New York.
"Yeah, that asshole already cheated on Kurt once!"
Despite the anger, Finn's natural awkwardness kept him from truly inspiring fear. Kurt couldn't believe he had had a crush on him once.
"Finn!" he yelled.
Escaping would no longer help. His father would follow him to the end of the world, if necessary, and force him to tell him the truth.
"Is that the truth?"
His father crossed his arms over his chest, while Finn looked at them in disbelief, shifting his gaze from one to the other.
“Of course it's the truth, Burt. You don't know..." Finn started gesturing with his arms, but Burt cut him off.
“I want to hear from Kurt. Is it the truth?"
Cornered, Kurt had to think of a solution that would save his father from the embarrassment and guilt that the situation would cause him. He just wanted everything to be as it had been before he accepted that damned marriage proposal. He wanted to tell Burt how exciting it was to live in New York, to work for Vogue. He wanted to watch a boring football game with him and Finn while eating the chocolate chip cookies Carole loved to bake and that Kurt always missed when he was away from home. He wanted to meet up with Brittany, impossible as it was, and with Artie, and Sam - tell them about Santana dancing in the subways when she drank too much, or about Rachel's crazy bedtime ritual.
Blaine hadn't just cheated on him, he'd robbed him of something more. Something that had always been his but now seemed to be gone. Kurt wasn't just Kurt anymore. It was Kurt and Blaine, and now Klaine, and he was starting to hate it.
Fuck Blaine. Kurt wasn't going to let anyone have that much power in his life.
"He cheated on me. Twice that I know of. But it's not important, Dad. I made a mistake in judgment. I thought he was the right person for me, and that we would be together forever, but that's not the case, obviously."
Kurt looked down at his dad, who was silently staring at him from head to toe, as if seeing him for the first time.
"Fuck that. Enough of this shit..."
This time it was Kurt who interrupted Finn. “I appreciate you taking the role of the protective older brother, Finn. Seriously, it's adorable. I love you, and you love me. I wouldn't ask for more. I just don't want you to get involved in this, not now. Blaine cheated on me and I'm fine... but there will be no wedding. I just want to go back to New York."
With a brusque gesture, Burt grabbed his son's hand, examining it carefully. No ring. No wedding.
"I'm sorry,” Burt whispered.
Burt wasn't sorry because he wasn't going to see his son get married the next month. He was sorry and disappointed because he thought he had failed in his role as a father, and Kurt knew it. He could feel it in his bones, and it hurt.
Burt hugged him, whispering in his ear that he loved him and that he was right to leave Blaine. Kurt hoped the hug was the conclusion of their discussion of Blaine’s infidelity.
Kurt stared at himself for the umpteenth time in the mirror, as if he really believed that his appearance would magically improve in the few minutes he had spent double-checking his bags.
He was feeling insane, or with OCD similar to Emma Pillsbury-Schuester's. He had neatly folded the clothes in the suitcase, the socks and the shoes, then he realized that he didn't like it, that something in the composition in front of his eyes was annoying, so he piled everything back on the bed and did it again.
He was sweaty, and he needed a shower. The second one that day.
I look like shit, he told himself. And it was true. He had managed to cover the dark circles with a layer of foundation, but looking at himself, Kurt could hardly recognize his own person. His usually white and luminous skin seemed gray like that of a dying man, and his eyes were swollen and definitely red.
He had received a message from Tina, just a few hours earlier. “Blaine is feeling bad.”
His first impulse had been to answer her with a list of bad words that would have made a sailor blush, but then he inhaled, closed his eyes, and typed a simple response. "I hope so." - cold and emotionless.
She didn't deserve a tantrum. Nobody who took Blaine's side did.
"I can't believe it! He called me again!" Finn walked into his room without knocking, red in the face and with messy hair.
He was talking about Blaine, of course. Once he realized that Kurt was not going to return his calls, Blaine contacted Finn.
“How can he even think about getting back with you?! He said he had… what's the name… frozen feet or toes? Something similar. He thinks you’re soulmates. That's the word he used, Kurt. He said, 'Kurt said and I are soulmates!'"
Of course.
Blaine had used that word to describe their relationship so many times it made him nauseated. Blaine wanted to be forgiven. Blaine still wanted to be forgiven.
How disgusting, he thought again, and this time the wave of horror that overwhelmed him gave him goosebumps. He had to calm down, or he would start crying again and the hard work that had made his face, if not decent, at least presentable would be undone.
"Cold feet, Finn."
Kurt put a hand on his brother's shoulder in a delicate way, and the other guy looked at him feeling lost, as if trying to understand how Kurt managed to stay so calm.
"I don't want you to treat Blaine different, at school."
Finn wasn't a teacher, but he was Mr. Schue’s assistant for the Glee Club, and if Finn started making a scene with Blaine, Mr. Shue would force him to resign. Kurt didn't want that. Blaine had already destroyed too much.
“Are you asking me to ignore him? Kurt, he hurt you!"
“He hurt me, I know. And I hate Blaine. You can't imagine how much I hate him right now."
Kurt tried to breathe and suppress the urge to scream and throw objects on the floor. It wouldn't help, it would only make things worse.
“I don't want to ignore him! I did it the first time, Kurt ... and I hate myself for that."
Kurt hugged him briefly.
Soon he would be back in New York, and he would be filing what was going on right now in a mental drawer called "past" with everything Blaine-related. He would focus on his career, and in time he would find a new boyfriend. But Finn... he couldn't escape to New York, and Kurt knew it. Blaine was going to be a part of his life for a little while longer.
“Think of Tina and Artie. Of Sam. They need you to be there, Finn. And the new guys too. Remember when you told me about that guy, Ryder? He didn't know he was dyslexic, and now he's finally addressing the problem. It's because of you. They need you. Don't let Blaine take that from you."
Kurt smiled at Finn, who smiled back.
"Promise me, Finn."
Finn looked down, allowing himself a few seconds of silence. “Okay. If that's what you want, Kurt. But what will I do if he tries to talk to me ... about you?"
Kurt stared back in the mirror for the last time. He tried again to give his hair the perfect touch of the past. Everything still sucked - he couldn't fool himself.
“Let him know that you are not in a position to talk about personal matters. Cold and detached, Finn. Just don’t answer."
"If you need to talk, honey, you know I’d listen, right?"
Carole hugged Kurt for the hundredth time, yet Kurt didn't know how to make her understand that talking about Blaine was the last thing he wanted to do. He just wanted a normal conversation, something that reminded him that before Blaine he had an individuality of his own.
“It's okay, Carole. But thanks."
He would never be able to be rude to her.
"There is some cake left. You haven’t eaten hardly anything."
Kurt thanked her again, but his stomach was still queasy, and he didn't feel like eating. He had tried some salad at dinner, but after the first bite he had started to feel bad. Burt hadn't said anything, but Kurt knew he was worried about letting him leave for New York.
He would probably call Rachel, and make her promise to take care of him.
Burt and Finn were watching an action movie, but they would be in bed in less than an hour. Kurt couldn't help but be happy about it. He loved spending time with them, but he wouldn't be able to avoid the "Blaine" topic for more than a few minutes.
"I'm going to sleep," he said, and everyone turned to look at him.
They thought he was going upstairs to cry. They wouldn't blame him, but they were worried about him too. Perhaps they would eavesdrop on his door, and burst in at the first noise that sounded like a sob.
But Kurt wasn't going to cry. Not anymore. He had managed to make it through Burt’s 45th birthday party without any of the guests suspecting anything. He could keep the façade up for a little longer.
"If you need anything..." Burt raised an eyebrow.
"I know." Kurt didn't need words to remember he had his father's support. At that moment, he just wasn't sure if it would change anything.
Kurt pushed the closed suitcase off the bed and set it apprehensively on the floor. He lay down and took a deep breath. He felt like he hadn't slept in years.
He turned and stared at his cell phone. He decided to be brave and to check whoever tried to contact him. He had three calls from Sam, two from Rachel, and one from Artie. He would see Rachel again the next afternoon, and having to talk to her about Blaine again at that time of night was the last thing he wanted to do. He would tell her everything in person, as he had planned from the beginning.
There were also five messages.
Rachel Berry: You're avoiding me. You better have a good reason for doing it.
You’ll have to wait to hear it.
Artie Abrams: I heard what happened. Call me.
Kurt sighed, and decided he would call him and Sam before the flight to New York.
Brittany Pierce: The sky is full of unicorns.
This time, he laughed. Brittany was Brittany, and she always managed to make him smile. Sweet Brittany. He missed her so much.
Tina Cohen-Chang: If I could have what you two have, I wouldn't throw it away. Blaine is CRYING. Everyone deserves to be loved, Kurt. He loves you.
He erased it without thinking twice. Fuck. You. Tina.
He stared at the display, reading the last message. As if stunned by what could not be true.
Blaine Anderson: When they didn't accept me at NYADA - I freaked out.
It said nothing more. Of course it didn't say anything more.
Blaine was trying to blame outside factors for something he could only blame himself for. It had been the distance, the first time. Fucking distance. For a while, Kurt felt guilty. He had thought of every Skype conversation. He had a new job, lived in a city he didn't know, but he never stopped talking to Blaine. If distance was becoming an issue, Blaine should have discussed it with him, not fuck around with the first guy that hit on him on Facebook or Grindr.
Now the problem was that he didn’t get his “rightful” admission to NYADA that he had expected. “My dream school rejected me, so I had to have sex with a stranger to feel better.” Kurt hadn't been admitted to NYADA after his first audition, but he had accepted the rejection by trying to improve himself. Blaine had cheated on him.
Blaine would always cheat on him.
Kurt didn't consider himself stupid, yet he missed the big picture. He had agreed to marry Blaine without thinking about the “ever after”. Fairy tales end when the prince and princess get married, after all. “And they all lived happily ever after.” No looking at the future after the happy ending, ever. But real life was different. After exchanging vows and kissing Blaine at the altar, Kurt would have to deal with the obstacles that life would undoubtedly place before them. Perhaps they would have children - they would require attention, time, baby bottles, diapers, bedtime stories. Blaine would cheat on him. They both had to find a job. Problems, stress, irritating colleagues. Blaine would cheat on him. Kurt would meet some men, maybe attractive ones, and talk to them. Have friends, a social life. Blaine would cheat on him.
I broke a fucking nail Kurt, so I had to sleep with someone!
Kurt had completely lost sight of reality and was throwing himself headlong into a whirlwind of unhappiness that would inevitably destroy him. He had been saved by an old key that Blaine had obviously forgotten he had. All because he wanted to surprise Blaine by arriving ahead of schedule to close all of the curtains, put out candles on the coffee table with the tray of cookies and cups of milk like a romantic snack that would lead them to feeding each other the cookies, getting playful, and then end with them making out more than watching the movie itself.
Kurt shivered. Kurt was about to be the serial cheater's husband. He was saved by a miracle. A little fucking miracle. And Blaine was asking him to raise his middle finger to that miraculously generous gift of fate, and to give up what little self-esteem and self-preservation he still had.
Kurt's first instinct was to tear apart his own cell phone, but then he changed his mind. He had no reason to be angry.
He was safe.
He deleted Blaine's text and laughed. He laughed heartily. Maybe he was going crazy.
He got up and grabbed a jacket - the first he could find. His looks were not the best, but Kurt managed to smile at his reflection and shrug.
He was nineteen, he was attractive, he went to an enviable school, and had a job that many people his age would kill for.
Blaine was just a pebble in his shoe.
He went down the stairs to the living room. The lights were out, and Kurt heard his dad snoring in the next room. He wondered how Carole slept with that noise.
Finn had retreated to his room too, taking the remaining slices of Carole's cake with him.
No one was going to ask him questions, which was perfect because Kurt wouldn't know what to answer.
Kurt smiled forcefully, and showed the man at the entrance of Scandals his fake ID. It was different from the first one he had used with Blaine in the same club, and Kurt felt more confident. His cover was FBI-proof - not a man with curly hair named Chazz Donaldsworth, just a picture of him from a few months ago and a different date of birth.
It had been Santana's doing. Rachel had decided to forget about men by drowning in rivers of alcohol after discovering Brody's true profession, and Santana had procured them perfect fake ID cards. Kurt's name was Jeffrey Stuart. Rachel's was Marie Campbell. Both attractive 25-year-olds. They had ventured out to several fancy gay clubs and had collapsed to the floor as soon as they returned to the apartment at the first light of dawn. Kurt found himself with a dozen phone numbers in his jeans pocket, and he didn't even remember how they got there.
Memorable.
"Have fun, Jeffrey," the man said looking bored.
Kurt took a deep breath and walked into the room.
He had driven to Scandals, but now that he was there, Kurt didn't know how to move. He felt like a penguin in the middle of the desert, and he hoped he wouldn't have a panic attack or pass out on the dance floor.
He could recognize the usual drag queens, and middle-aged men holding bottles of beer and making their way to the pool table. A group of younger men were laughing, toasting to celebrate their friend's birthday. Kurt stood still, a little scared to be there alone. The last thing he was searching for was unwanted attention.
He asked the bartender for a cherry limeade, no vodka, and pushed his way through the crowd. A burly man bumped into him as he tried to get away from the bar, causing a little of the sweet liquid to splash over the side of the overly full glass onto the man’s shoe. Kurt barely managed to keep hold of the glass in his hand, preventing it from falling - and falling apart.
The man did not notice anything and approached a group of people whose attention seemed to focus on something that was happening on the dance floor. Kurt made his way using the natural agility of his body and soon found himself in the front row of what had caught the attention of the crowd.
He saw two guys moving together on the dance floor, fluidly, provocatively, sensuously.
One of them was Sebastian, the other a blond guy, perhaps a little older. Their bodies were close, and shamelessly brushed together, while Sebastian's hands made their way through his companion's thick golden hair.
Kurt could have reached them, joined in their seductive dance, but he could not be part of it. That was a delusion. His role was limited to that of a spectator.
Sebastian and the guy moved in and out of each other’s space, touching and grinding to the beat of the music. The applause continued, as did the cheering and some indecent comments.
Kurt decided to step away from the crowd. Whatever he was looking for, he wasn't sure that he was in the right place to find it. He felt like a man who dreamt of flying or breathing underwater.
"You’re here.”
Kurt turned back towards the center of the room just before reaching the exit, and saw Sebastian standing in front of him. The unkempt hair, the disheveled look, his cheeks flushed. Kurt could almost relive that scene in his mind - Sebastian and that blonde guy dancing.
"Something told me I'd see you again," the taller boy continued, ignoring Kurt's embarrassment. "I just didn't think it would happen here."
That was the same club where Sebastian had hit on Blaine, after all.
“I knew you liked cherries,” he teased as he walked over to the bar and asked for a Coke, while Kurt pleaded with his mind to figure out what to say. Heartbroken, and lost in the loud music, Kurt knew he wanted to kiss him, but he simply couldn't. Kurt Hummel had his own code of conduct, and kissing Sebastian Smythe without first talking to him, or clearing up what that kiss would mean, seemed stupid, like stepping into a burning house on purpose.
We are not children. It's just a kiss. A kiss. One kiss.
Just to prove himself that he could.
"You're drunk." He couldn't think of anything better to say as he watched Sebastian chug the cold liquid and then plop the empty glass on the counter.
He wasn't in love with Sebastian. He didn't want a relationship with him. God, he didn't even know him. It was wrong, yet his body screamed its desires at him with a voice that could not be ignored.
Sebastian seemed to know. Obviously. Sebastian would always know.
Sebastian knew Blaine would cheat on him. He knew it wouldn't last between them. He had known that long before Kurt, with just a look. In the same way that he could read Kurt without needing words, without needing the long embarrassing monologues that Kurt used to explain himself.
In the past, Kurt would have described Sebastian as "superficial", but right now he knew for sure that nothing had ever been further from the truth.
"I'm definitely not drunk."
Sebastian laughed, and Kurt raised an eyebrow.
Kurt still needed the words. He could have walked up to him and kissed him, but Kurt wanted certainties. Labels. Control. "I don't want to have to talk about Blaine anymore. I just want to feel like myself. That's why I came."
"Tell me about you, then." Sebastian shrugged.
Kurt looked down. He felt free after saying those simple, almost obvious words.
It was a step he had to take, a moment that would change his life.
Kurt decided to rely on words.
"For a while I was afraid to admit who I was because of my father. I was afraid he would look at me differently – I was scared. Until I realized that my diversity made me unique. I ended up in the dumpsters at the hands of the football players, they threw slushies in my face, they shoved me into lockers, yet I didn't care. They couldn't touch me." Kurt took a deep breath, swallowed bitter saliva, full of regrets, “I had a crush on the boy who would later become my stepbrother. I was the one who introduced our parents, you know? I was hoping that sharing a room with me would make him fall in love with me, but that didn't happen, of course. I wanted a boyfriend - to know the emotions everybody was experiencing. Rachel and I were fighting for Finn, and solos." Kurt smiled bitterly at that memory. "She took the boy, and the stage too."
But Kurt had moved on, with the courage of his determination.
"Did you love yourself?" Sebastian asked.
Kurt thought about it. His life was as far as possible from being perfect, yet Kurt had loved himself back then.
When had he stopped?
"Yeah. Yeah, I did, strangely." Kurt murmured, laughing under his breath.
“Now I want you to tell me about you after meeting Blaine. Do it, Kurt. For the last time."
Set Yourself Free. Take back what you have lost.
Kurt saw Blaine in his Dalton uniform, and himself, following him with the dreamy eyes of a child in love. What had started off as innocent infatuation founded on naivete had become destructive in its immaturity. Blaine still expected the world to revolve around him and his desires, like a child. Kurt had let his devotion consume him.
"I thought we were going to love each other forever," he began. “When he took my hand for the first time, I was sure that we would grow old together, that we would have children, that we would say I love you to one another for every day of our lives. And that it would be real." Kurt wiped the tears that were running down his cheeks.
Sebastian gave Kurt his full attention, willfulling blocking out the din surrounding them.
Someone focusing solely on him buoyed his spirits to the point of admitting what he had never said out loud, and had barely even let himself think about. “I stopped fighting for both what I wanted and needed because that would have kept Blaine from being the center of attention. I allowed him to criticize me, hurt my self-esteem. For the first time, I doubted myself, and I thought something about me was wrong. These were small changes, but slowly I let the self I knew vanish into thin air. I didn't get angry, I was compliant, and let him make all the decisions. I didn't care about singing a solo anymore. I was just happy that Blaine did. I sat on the sidelines, and it was enough for me to know that he was mine. My boyfriend, my Blaine. Having him made me feel worthy in a way, but at the same time destroyed my self-worth"
Kurt and Blaine. Klaine. No one had noticed how destructive that love was.
"I thought always putting his needs first was the right way to love."
Sebastian took his face in his hand, and wiped his tears with his thumb. He grabbed one of Kurt's hands, and placed it against his chest. Kurt felt the accelerated beating of his heart.
Sebastian knew, for the umpteenth time. There would be no inappropriate praise for his ass, there would be no jokes about his alleged innocence, just footsteps, and with each step of the other Kurt felt more vulnerable, more than he ever was before. But it was good. It was liberating.
They were facing each other, and somehow Sebastian realized that Kurt needed words.
To speak the truth.
”I’m sorry for my rude behavior earlier today. My anger had nothing to do with you and I lashed out at you because you were there. That was wrong.”
Sebastian's hand caressed Kurt's smooth, flushed cheek, and his thumb barely touched his lips, as if he were a blind man outlining them and then painting them in his mind.
“I forgive you.”
“I’m also sorry for how I treated you last year. I judged you for how I thought you were living your life, for choices that should only be yours to judge. Living away from Lima has helped me see a bit beyond the small town purity culture. It’s deeply ingrained and it’s an internal battle to fight. Even when my dad, who isn’t the least bit religious, gave me ‘The Talk’, he made sure to point out that I mattered and to not throw myself around like I didn’t. I misunderstood the point of that entirely.”
“I considered last year to be over last year. I put the past behind me and moved forward. We both said things, but I was the one who went much too far. I do accept your apology. Although, I don’t understand what you mean about what your dad told you. It sounds like solid advice to me.”
“It’s the filter I viewed it through that was faulty. I deemed that a committed, lifelong, monogamous relationship was the only type of relationship that was acceptable and that sexual behavior outside that context would be throwing myself around.”
The wall of “moral integrity” that he had built around his sexual expression for years was crumbling at such a speed that it frightened Kurt.
“Do you still feel that way?”
“Yes, and no.”
Sebastian laughed again. “Well, that doesn’t clear much up, does it?” He used his other hand to gently pull Kurt closer, until their bodies were nearly touching and he felt Kurt’s warm breath blowing on his skin. And for the first time, he could really see Kurt’s beautiful glasz eyes clearly.
“I let myself be manipulated into having sex with Blaine. I wasn’t ready. And once I did, his talk of ‘soulmates’ and ‘forever’ tied me to him in a very unhealthy way, like I was explaining earlier. I fell into the trap of doing what I felt I had to in order to keep him, yet always feeling like it wasn’t enough. I had to be more, all while being less. More forgiving, more understanding, more accommodating - all while being less bold, less seen, less heard, less ‘Kurt’.”
“There is no manipulation from me. I'm not Blaine. And I don't want to sleep with you - not yet, not while you’re so vulnerable. You have the power to tell me no, that you’re not interested in me that way. We can still talk. I won’t just bail if you turn me down.”
Kurt shivered, his cheeks flushed more, and his eyes started to water at the absolute openness that he saw in Sebastian’s eyes, something he had never experienced before.
"Or you can say yes and kiss me."
“Yes.” He closed his eyes, and his lips found Sebastian’s.
They touched, hesitantly, and then joined perfectly, seeking each other. He kissed him once, then again, and during the third kiss his tongue met Sebastian's for the first time. Sebastian tasted like beer and something else that Kurt could only guess was the taste of him. He ran his tongue along Sebastian’s teeth, and allowed Sebastian to do the same. He allowed his body to be pressed against Sebastian's, and ran his fingers through his hair.
There were so many questions still unanswered, so many words that perhaps deserved to be spoken, but it didn't matter anymore.
Kurt said yes.
Kurt woke up in the middle of the night, Sebastian snoring quietly next to him. They were fully dressed, the proof that Sebastian never tried to take advantage of his emotions. They talked, they cried, they hugged, they kissed. The moment Kurt asked him to stop, Sebastian had.
It felt so different, having his boundaries respected. Being treated like a human being instead of a yes-man.
Kurt moved a lock of hair from Sebastian's forehead and placed a soft kiss there. The last one, before their separation.
He sighed, thinking of how much he had learned about Sebastian – his family history, his first boyfriend in Paris, his passion for sports and debate, even small details like his birthday and his favorite color. In one night, he learned more personal and intimate details about Sebastian than he had managed to learn about Blaine in two and a half years. And Sebastian had been equally attentive and interested in learning about Kurt, something he had never experienced.
It had been a night of forgiveness, healing, and hope.
On the bedside table, he left a note - his phone number and his New York address. Maybe it was stupid to think Sebastian would contact him, but for once, Kurt wanted to believe in something good.
Rachel's mouth was wide open, like one of those ugly Halloween masks that strangely were still sold well despite being outdated. She raised her arm and pointed her index finger at the young man at the door. "You!".
She said nothing more, not that Kurt could understand, at least. She stammered something under her breath, possibly about the ugly photo of naked Finn in high heels that Sebastian had created with the help of Photoshop back in high school.
Kurt didn't move - time seemed to pass in slow motion. It felt like a scene from a romantic comedy. It had been two months since he had last been in the same room with Sebastian.
But now he was there. It wasn't a dream.
He could touch Sebastian, if he wanted to. He just had to reach out his hand.
Sebastian's strong arms, his chest, his neck, his face, his soft hair, and his gorgeous green eyes. He remembered the taste of his lips. They had been so close, but Kurt had forgotten what it felt like to touch him. It seemed terribly unfair.
“Aren’t you going to greet me, Hummel? That's kind of rude." He tipped his head and smirked before he broke and chuckled.
Kurt could barely hold back his tears.
Rachel was looking at him like he was a pig that had sprouted wings, but he didn't care. The world around him stopped existing.
Sebastian was real. As much as the crowded subways of New York, as the skyscrapers that Kurt loved so much, as much as his own breath. Simply true.
Kurt smiled, and ran into his open arms.