"So, what do you think?" Elliott spreads his arms and turns around for full effect. He looks very pleased with himself and it's clear he's eager for Kurt's approval. Kurt, however, is skeptical.
"I don't think that's the way we want to go for this performance," he says. "With the-" he gestures at his own hair and chest and nods at Elliott.
Elliott lowers his arms. "Oh. Well, okay- it's your band. Just tell me what I need to change."
"Mmm." Kurt walks away without saying anything more, and Elliott is left standing in the middle of the loft feeling a little awkward. Kurt emerges from behind his privacy curtain with a dark green shirt and something soft and woolly in his hand. "Here. Try this. Might tone it down a little."
"Okay…" Elliott accepts the clothes and shrugs the shirt over to cover his band shirt and the tattoos on his arms. He frowns a little at the knitted beanie but pulls it over his hair anyway. He doesn't want Kurt to accuse him of stealing the spotlight in his band again. Kurt is smiling softly, which is a good look on him, and Elliott stoops a little when Kurt reaches for him to adjust the hat.
"Perfect," Kurt says, admiring his handiwork. "let's go. The girls will meet us there."
It's one of the best gigs they've ever played, and afterwards, Elliott is loathe to spoil Kurt's good mood. They stay out until the early morning celebrating. But something keeps nagging on his mind, and when dawn breaks and they are on their way back to the loft, both drunk and sleepy, Elliott decides to come clean.
"Kurt, I need to tell you something," he starts, just as Kurt's apartment building comes in to view.
"It's okay, I already know I am amazing," Kurt jokes jovially, looping his arm in Elliott's. "Maybe even… breathtaking."
Elliott stops and faces him. "Yeah. You are. But I'm not sure I can do this."
"What?" Kurt asks. He blinks and suddenly laughs. "Oh, this? Oh honey, we're not gonna- you're just walking me home, right? I mean, helloooo…" He holds up his hand with the engagement ring on it and wriggles his finger.
Elliott frowns. "Yeah. No. That's what I mean. This-" he takes off the beanie and the shirt and hands them to Kurt. "I know when you let me in your band I said I would be anyone you wanted me to, but… I'm sorry. I can't replace Blaine for you."
Kurt stares down at the clothes for a moment and then looks up at Elliott. "Huh?" he simply says, his alcohol-clouded mind not catching on.
Elliott sighs. "It's okay, Kurt. Santana showed me a picture of him. I understand. You miss him, and you wish it was him you're singing with. I could see it in your eyes whenever you looked at me tonight, and I just… I'm flattered, but… I can't do it. One day I hope someone will look me at me like that, for me, and what I am. Not for dressing up like someone they like better."
Kurt is slowly starting to feel nauseous. "I…" he started, but Elliott quickly cut him off, wanting to reassure him.
"It's okay, really. He's your fiancé, it's perfectly normal. Look, no hard feelings, okay?"
Kurt nods weakly, still processing. He takes out his phone, scrolls through it, and shows Elliott a picture. "Is this who Santana showed you?" he asks.
Elliott nods. "Yeah. He's a lucky guy, you know. And so are you, I guess." He runs a hand through his hair. "Well, I'd better go. How about tomorrow-" he looks over his shoulder at the sun and grins, "or later today when we've sobered up, we go shopping and you help me find a new look that fits the band better, something that's both me and Pamela?" He offers Kurt an encouraging smile. "Come on, I know you love make-overs…"
Kurt quickly plasters on a smile. "I do! Yes. Yes, of course. Let's do that. Goodnight, Elliott." They hug and he quickly goes inside. As soon as he's alone, he takes out his phone again and looks down on the picture of him and Adam.
"I really messed up, didn't I?" he whispers to himself.