A/N: Hello everyone! I'm in the process of writing The Swallow and the Sparrow and I wish I could update it sooner but I'm super super busy right now. I'm lucky I had free time to even write this little thing.
I've seen a bunch of klangel (lol see what I did there?) fics and I wanted to write my own. This idea just popped in my head this morning and I wanted to write it as soon as possible so I wouldn't forget for you guys.
This story revolves around the song Angels by Owl City from their new album which I adore to smitherines. So this might make a bit more sense if you go listen to that, but even still, it'll make sense to anyone I think.
Ok! So enjoy this little drabble and I will try to get working on TSATS in the meantime.
Everyone needs something to believe in. Whether you're Christian, Catholic, Buddhist, Muslim, or even an atheist, you need to have something to look at. I, personally, am not a religious person. I'm an agnostic if you wish. But that doesn't mean I don't believe there are beautiful things that wander our very earth. I like to call them angels.
I started to believe in angels when I was a young boy, only about 4 or 5 years old. My mother and father were going through some difficult things in their relationship. My mother would sneak out at night and wouldn't return until the dawn of the next morning, sometimes missing a garment she went out with. She always seemed dizzy or sick when she came home and sometimes looked as if someone had rubbed balloons over her hair. My father, unhappy that he was stuck home watching me instead of being able to go out to baseball games with his work friends, grew more and more impatient and moody as the days went by. After about six months, my parents filed for a divorce.
I then lived with my mother for six years afterwards, seeing my father every other weekend and holidays. She still went out like she did before and I was left my by myself or my aunt on occasions. I would just sit in my room and read books I got at the local library or watch Disney movies. I didn't hang out with boys my age because I lived right next to a retirement center; there were no boys my age. When I was ten, I found relief in theatre and I read scripts of plays as my pass time. Also, I taught myself how to play the piano so I could play the songs I found in musical scores.
A year later, my mother was sent to rehab for an alcoholic addiction and I was sent to live with my father. He was the same moody, tough man I had grown up with. I still took pride in my collection of playbills and scores until my father found that I did have a spark in interest for the fine arts.
"Theatre's for faggots, Blaine. I will not have my son adapted to those ways," he said and went on to burn my collection right before my eyes.
I cried for days it seemed. I had no idea what a faggot was, nor did I want to know out of fear of becoming one and being hated by my father. Everything I loved was tormented before me and there was nothing I could do to salvage it. That's when he came.
As I sat on the edge of my bed, sobbing over my lost treasures, I heard a voice. "It will be alright, Blaine," it said. The voice sounded like a soprano bell, only in a man's voice. I looked around me and saw no one. Was I going crazy?
"Wh-Who said that,?" I asked between my hiccups and shaking breath.
"It will be alright, Blaine," it said again. And then there were a pair of crystal white wings suspended in the air next to me. They gave a rapid flutter and then disappeared.
What was that? The only thing I ever knew that had wings like that was doves. Or angels.
From there on out, that angel had contact with me. He would come and console me every time I was troubled or upset over something. I called him Hummer because he would always lull me to calm down by humming a slow song or ballad. When I was fourteen, he was around much more often. He didn't just come when I was in a bad time; he also followed whenever he pleased.
He was there when I figured out who I really was. I figured out that I was gay when I started thinking, um, provocatively about a boy I went to school with. I discussed it with my father and he began to rage and kept calling me a faggot. That's when he ran his rough hand across my face and then jabbed his fist into my abdomen. He proceeded with telling me to get my things and leave his house at once. I was so scared I obeyed immediately. He kicked the back of my knee when I was exiting the house and shouted, "Starve on the streets! How dare you even live, you vile piece of shit!" and spat onto my face.
"It will be alright, Blaine," I heard Hummer say next to me.
He had shown that he only wore a white sheet draped around him in a toga like fashion. He also had no face, except for the two ice blue eyes that shown back at me. Hummer had taken a few of my things and started to head towards downtown Westerville. I had followed him the whole way until he stopped at a house.
"Tell them what happened to you. They're a foster family and will take you in. They have a son, which means you will have a foster brother. Good luck, Blaine," he said.
I followed Hummer's directions fully as if my life depended on it, which quite frankly, it did. Hummer's predictions were spot on and in moments I was residing at the Montgomery home. It was only I, my foster mother, Mia, and my foster brother, Wes. Mia and Wes were biologically related and were the last resort when it came to fostering, considering there was no father figure in the picture. Wes' father had died of lung cancer when he was just three years old. Mia was thrilled to finally be able to foster and went to go get legally sorted as soon as possible.
Over the next few years, I saw Hummer less and less. Only a few times did I notice his presence. Once, I was walking down the cellar stairs to do my laundry when I noticed footsteps in the dust behind me. They were different from everyone else's, as everyone didn't wear shoes in the house. They were sandal prints. Another time, I was reading next to our electric fireplace when I saw it enflame and then douse in mere moments. And the last time I ever saw a sign of him was last fall. I had a basket that I kept next to my opened window and when I woke up that next morning, the basket was filled with acorns picked up from the backyard. Hummer was always a neat freak.
Wes and I attended Dalton Academy School for Boys when we were in high school. There, we became a part of the Warblers, an exclusive show choir, and made our ways up on the social pyramid. Wes became the board leader while I became vocal leader. We were very content with our lives, that is, until he came.
A spy, we suspected, from Lima. We thought we would go easy on him; he didn't look too dangerous and seemed almost fascinated by Dalton's elegant features. I was running late to our impromptu performance of Teenage Dream as I had thought I had uncovered another spotting of Hummer and took too much time investigating. He stopped me on the staircase and my jaw dropped when I looked at him. He was the most beautiful man I had ever laid my eyes on. Porcelain white skin, perfectly coiffed brown hair, the most amazing mouth (not that I was purposely staring at it), and these ice blue eyes that just made me feel complete when I looked into them. As if I was finally getting closure from a fight or something. His name was Kurt and his voice rung like a bell.
I took him to our performance, just wanting to spend more time with him and then we chatted over coffee with Wes and our friend, David. When things began to get personal, I sent Wes and David off so I could finally get some alone time with Kurt. He began to cry as he told me about his school life and being the only openly gay kid at his school, ultimately leading to being violently bullied. I sympathized with him immediately, knowing exactly every emotion he's ever felt. Used, beaten, unwanted, just a rook in an unfair game of chess. I suggested two things; one, he could come board here at Dalton (my favorite suggestion); or he could stand up for himself, something I never had the courage to do.
After our first encounter, Kurt and I seemed to be strung together like a tag team. We helped each other out, fighting the world off, one step at a time. It was how we coped together. It was during that time that I realized that I was accidently in love with Kurt. I couldn't do it to him. I couldn't admit that I had fallen for him so hard it hurt for me to look at him. He was just too vulnerable and I couldn't put the pressure on him like that. So I went looking out for my angel. I'd find him, and I would make sure he wouldn't leave me again. I loved Hummer, and I knew that for a while. He wasn't just a figment of my imagination as people would have told me. I knew he was real and I knew that what I had for him was true love. Hummer had, quite literally, saved my life and because of that I would devote said life to finding him. He was my angel and I knew he would never stray far from me.
Around that next Valentine's Day I could have sworn I had found him. Hummer's signs became more and more frequent as the day drew nearer. It was then that struck me, Hummer worked as a Gap store employee and his name was Jeremiah. Such an angel's name. I tried and tried to get closer to Jeremiah, trying to see if he would remember me but he was persistent. One day I decided to serenade him to see if he would really recognize my voice as Hummer and I used to sing to each other when I was really upset.
That plan was a total bust. Turns out Jeremiah was just a regular store clerk who gets fired when a flash mob of singing teenagers in uniforms break out into the epitome of sexual innuendo songs. And who also can get arrested if he were to have sex with you. Obviously, I didn't find my angel, but I was still determined no matter how difficult he may be to find.
Later that evening Kurt decided that going for coffee would cheer me up a bit. I was really down about not finding Hummer and also humiliating myself in front of an entire store of people. As we were on line, Kurt decided to confuse me by bringing up our past duets and coffee hangouts as if they meant something.
"I thought the person that you were going to ask out on Valentine's Day, was me," he said a little bit ashamed.
Oh shit. Had I really been leading him on like that? All this time I was trying to make him forget about his bad experiences at McKinley (and hell if I didn't) but all this time I was making his situation worse. I had to apologize. He was going to hate me if I do, but I'm also damned if I don't.
"Wow, I really am clueless. Look, Kurt, I don't know what I'm doing. I pretend I do and I know how to act it out in song but the truth is I've never been anyone's boyfriend."
In my mind that was the subtle more normal way of me saying, "Kurt, I'm trying to find my angel that I've been in love with for years and I don't know how to feel other people's emotions. I'm so self absorbed in finding him that I didn't realize I was leading you on like this and I'm sorry."
"Me neither," he responded.
"Let me be really clear about something. I really, really care about you. But as you and about twenty other mortified people saw, I'm not very good at romance."
In my mind I was thinking, "I'm still going to keep looking for my angel, Kurt. But in the meantime, I don't want you to hate me. I want you just as much as (hopefully) you want me, but I can't. There's someone else my heart belongs to and I need to find him."
Things began to lighten up from there. It didn't change my viewpoint of Kurt in the slightest and if it did, it was out of admiration. I knew I was in love with him but until he was ready and until I found Hummer, it just couldn't be. It was an unfair game of Tug-of-War between Hummer and Kurt. They were both pulling at my heart but one of the opponents was missing and I couldn't just give my heart to someone if I knew I had to settle something with another.
A few months later, as we were getting ready for Regionals, Kurt gave us the sad news that our dear mascot, Pavarotti, had died. I felt so bad for him. Pavarotti was a dear companion to Kurt, and to all of us.
"Now I know we all need to practice doo-opping behind Blaine while he sings a solo in the medley of Pink songs, but I'd like to sing a song for Pavarotti today," Kurt said.
And that was a major blow to the chest. Had I really offended him that morning? Oh Kurt, I'm so, so sorry. I didn't mean it. And that's when Kurt began to sing his tribute to the late canary. It was time for me to stand behind Kurt. Time for me…. to….. oh. As I watched Kurt sing his heart out, I kept a good eye on his face, mainly his eyes. They seemed so… icy. So… familiar. So…. Oh my god. If there was one time I wanted to smack myself in the face for being so stupid, now was defiantly one of those times. There it was, standing right in front of me with big neon lights flashing. I'm in love with Kurt Hummel and no one else.
That was it, I had to tell him. I don't care if he wasn't ready for this or not. It was time for me and I wasn't going to let this opportunity slip through my fingers. It happened once and I wasn't going to let it happen again.
That after noon in the café.
"Kurt, there is a moment when you say to yourself, 'Oh, there you are. I've been looking for you forever,' (and hell, I have.). Watching you do Blackbird this week, that was a moment for me. About you. You move me, Kurt. And this duet would just be an excuse for me to spend time with you."
And then, I kissed him. I felt as if every weight in the world had just been lifted off my shoulders. As if every bad past experience I ever had with people or my father had just never existed. My eyes had finally been opened from their sleep and I kissed my soul mate. It wasn't about Hummer anymore, it was about Kurt.
"We… we should practice," I said after feeling embarrassed for liking the kiss a little too much.
"I thought we were," he said with a smile on his face.
He caught my drift perfectly. We went in for another kiss, this time more hot and needy. As if we both needed to feel complete. Whole. We kept at it for a minute before I needed something more from him.
"Come with me," I said against his lips.
He obliged immediately. We went up the stairs to the dorm rooms, sneaking a needy kiss every so often steps until we finally reached my single dorm room and attacked each other inside. As soon as we were in, I jammed Kurt's lower neck and head against the door to kiss him fiercely as I locked the door, careful not to let his back touch it. Upon instinct, I discarded my upper layers of clothing onto the floor and pushed Kurt back towards the bed. I began to undo his shirts as well.
"Blaine…," he warned.
"Oh, stop it. You know exactly," I said not caring if I pushed him.
His blouse was finally discarded and I was given what I was looking for. A groan escaped from Kurt's teeth as a pair of snow white wings spring to the sides of his back, scattering loose feathers onto my bed.
"I knew you'd find me," he said.
I settled him down to let his wings stretch as I poured all my love and emotion into him. For years I dreamed of this day, and it was right in front of me all along.
I finally found my angel.
So if you're dying to see,
I guarantee there are angels around you vicinity.