A/N: This is my first (completed) Klaine/Glee fic, and I am extremely nervous.
Constructive criticism/general feedback is more than welcome!
A copy of this fic has also been published on my tumblr, designerofcatastrophy.
This is set after 4x04.
Kurt meets him on a Tuesday, when he hands him his coffee over the counter. The words here's your order, sir come punctuated with crinkled eyes and a too-warm smile to be appropriate for their non-relationship, but Kurt smiles back anyway.
He's been looking for reasons to smile since it happened. How he and Blaine's impromptu reunion at a city café had quickly taken a turn for the worse when the latter had begun crying during an acoustic rendition of "Teenage Dream." How Blaine's face had looked in Battery Park, when Kurt had said to him, "Please stop pretending there's nothing wrong." How Kurt had felt his face crumple when Blaine, Blaine Anderson, Blaine Warbler, Blaine the-love-of-his-life, Blaine I'm-never-saying-goodbye-to-you, had said the words, I was with someone. How Kurt had run, run from him, hand on his mouth, tears on his cheeks, a broken expression on his face, wanting nothing more than to get away, away, away from Blaine, whom he had been so proud to be with, whom he now couldn't think of without feeling his heart break and tear and collapse…
He still hadn't said goodbye to him.
.
So perhaps that's the reason why, when the cashier (whose nametag read "Paul") comes over to his table a few minutes later, Kurt decides to properly introduce himself to him. There have been other boys and previous dates, but maybe – he tells himself this, as he's told himself for the others – it will be different this time.
Maybe.
"My name is Kurt."
Paul gives a little laugh. "I can see that – I mean – I know, from your coffee order," he adds hastily, when Kurt raises an eyebrow. "Um. Cashier." He points to himself.
Kurt smiles. "Yes, I noticed."
Paul smiles back. "I'm Paul."
There's a slight pause, in which Kurt isn't quite sure what to do with his hands and Paul seems to be searching for words.
When Paul finally asks for Kurt's number, he does give it, writing down the digits on the back of one of Paul's smooth hands – smooth, Kurt stop himself for thinking, the way his never were, calloused from years of piano and guitar playing. He writes down the digits numbly, feeling as though he's watching someone else do it for him.
When Paul smiles, a pink flush across his cheeks, and walks away, Kurt doesn't compare his blue eyes to a pair of hazel ones. Nor does he take in the straight brown hair and think of someone else's dark curly locks. He doesn't think of the sound of Paul-the-cashier's voice and compare it to his memory of a lively, tenor one. Because that would be ridiculous.
No, he doesn't do any of that. At all.
.
When Paul finally calls him and asks him out for dinner, an appropriate two days later, Kurt agrees with an "I'd love to!" that sounds much too falsely enthusiastic, even to his own ears.
The date goes well, and Paul behaves just as he should – showing just the right amount of interest, listening closely but not too closely, hands staying folded in his lap, exhibiting a perfect posture. The exact antithesis of Blaine Anderson, who would listen intently, whose hands would practically fly through the air as he gestured enthusiastically, who sometimes slouched, although Kurt had joked that there was no need to, considering his height – or lack of.
But the complete opposite of Blaine is what Kurt needs, he tells himself. Exactly what he needs.
.
At the end of the date, Paul asks Kurt if he can see him again.
Kurt agrees automatically, without a second thought.
One date soon turns to two, and then three.
After Date Four, Kurt suddenly finds himself standing outside the apartment he shares with Rachel, who has expressed a tentative approval of Paul ("He's nice," she said, though with hesitance in her eyes). He and Paul have just said their good-nights, and he's readying himself to turn away when –
He feels Paul's hand, light on his shoulder, and when he looks at him, realizes that Paul's face is getting closer. And closer. And closer.
His eyes are closing and his head is tilting and Kurt can feel his breath on his lips and his hand on his waist but all he can think of is Blaine, Blaine, Blaine, of the expression that would be on Blaine's face if only he could see them now, of the look in Blaine's eyes in that instant before they had first kissed, of the ever-present wonder in his expression when they finally pulled away, as though he were seeing Kurt for the first time, every time.
The way Blaine's finger would always caress Kurt's cheek when their lips first met; the way he would hold a hand gently behind his neck, stroking the skin there just so; the way he would smile into the kiss when Kurt gasped…
He jerks away from Paul's grasp with a jolt.
Paul freezes, his face still tilted. His eyes snap open, filled with hurt and confusion.
Kurt is half-relieved, half-mortified at himself. He knows now that he's been using Paul, using all the others, desperately holding onto the hope that he could find the person he was destined to be with in someone other than Blaine – looking and hoping and searching for forever.
Paul is sweet and kind and perfectly polite. The others were, as well.
He had liked them fairly well, yes.
But it was Blaine.
It was always Blaine.
"I'm so sorry," Kurt breathes, seeing his words break the still tentatively-hopeful expression on Paul's face. "Paul, I'm so sorry – there's –"
Paul is staring at him, wordless, injury evident in his eyes.
Kurt closes his own, then opens them. "My…my ex-boyfriend. I still – "
"You're still in love with him." The flat words are a statement, not a question.
Kurt closes his eyes, and his words come out in a whisper. "I"m sorry."
The words are as good as an affirmation.
.
When Paul leaves, his footsteps tripping clumsily down the sidewalk, Kurt feels only regret. No loss.
.
He calls him on a Wednesday.
His thumb lands on the name Blaine Anderson, heart jolting with the familiarity of seeing his picture on his phone's screen.
His breath catches when the line connects on the second ring.
"H – hello?" he hears the familiar voice say, filled with confusion and the smallest hint of hope.
Finally, finally, Kurt allows himself to smile.
"There you are," he whispers, "I've been looking for you forever."