OUR LOVE'S LIKE A STAR.
Chapter 1.
The space in between us
Starts to feel like it's worlds apart
Like I'm going crazy
And it's raining in your heart.
— "My Love Is Like A Star" by Demi Lovato.
Kurt and Blaine haven't seen each other in two years.
People always warn you that things change after high school. The friends who've been there for you for so long are suddenly unreachable as you head for different parts of the country. Their reassuring smiles that once guided you through the day are nothing but memories or pixels on the blinding blue light of your computer screen.
But they say the love never dies. No, it doesn't. They say that when you see each other again, it's as if you never left. It's like everything's the same, and the pieces that have been scattered by time and circumstance fall back into place. And the happiness comes back.
Kurt doesn't believe any of it, because when Blaine told him he'd be going to Italy, he didn't think it'd last more than a semester. The hugs that smelled like hair gel and airports. The kisses that were blown from airplane windows, only to be snatched up by the wind as it cut in between them.
Blaine told Kurt he loved him. And that they'd see each other again soon.
He was wrong.
At first, the phone calls made up for everything. Little stories about jet lag and sitting next to crazy old ladies and real, non-American pizza were delightful. The joy in Blaine voice was everything Kurt needed to de-stress, to forget the competition between the students in NYADA. How the people there were nothing but business and Kurt seemed to fall in between the cracks and into the background. Except when he was singing.
Kurt kept his mouth sealed as Blaine continued on about the culture and the plays and how he's going to have to take his Italian lessons seriously. He didn't want to worry him. Kurt was doing fine, alone, in New York, where no one else bothered you and no one bothered caring about you.
Kurt thought life would be better in New York, but really, it was just more cruel.
When the time zones get the better of them. Kurt's always at school and Blaine's never at home and both of them are so busy that the calls become scarce. A rare occasion. They were little patches of sunlight in Kurt's daily routine. Homework and rehearsal and a sarcastic remark thrown at his expense. But at the end of the night, he'd wait by the phone, his assignments still unfinished on his desk, and wonder if maybe, maybe tonight Blaine will call.
But he doesn't, and everything falls back into that routine that he hates so so much. And still, no one's there like Blaine would've been. The friends he make aren't like the ones he had back then; the ones who cared about him and the ones who would sacrifice their careers for his happiness. These people meant business, and to them, Kurt didn't matter as much as getting ahead did.
He's lucky if Blaine calls once a week, but when he does, it's nothing short of refreshing. His voice is as animated as ever as he recounts tale of the many Italian women he had to turn down, and the kinds of plays he's been seeing and how wonderful the productions are. Kurt laughs as he hears about this one girl who actually burst into tears when Blaine told her he's gay, and honestly, it's the hardest Kurt's laughed in a while.
But they become less common. A text one a week. A call one a month. Little excuses and I'm sorry's and voice mails and Kurt can just feel the guilt in the boy's voice so he can't bear to get hurt. But he gets hurt anyway. Because slowly but surely Blaine is slipping away and there's nothing he can do about it because he's all the way over there and with each mile he counts, the harder it becomes to keep the pieces of his heart together.
In time, the calls stop all together. Kurt doesn't notice it at first, but a week passes, and the another, and soon months have gone by and not a peep has been heard from the curly haired boy he had once called the love of his life.
"I don't think I can take it anymore, Rachel." Kurt whispered into the phone one particularly cold night. His breath was short and shallow and he was probably only minutes away from tears. Another rough day at rehearsal. Another sweat soaked undershirt and another solo that wasn't given to him because he didn't have the right voice type.
"I'm sure there is a perfectly reasonable explanation as to why he hasn't called you." The girl assured him, her voice soothing but still as confident as it had been years ago. Kurt tried to smile, he really did, but his attempts were futile.
"I know there is," He said, his voice uneasy, and his mind repeated it to himself. There is. There has to be. "I'm just so worried." He added, letting all the distress seep into his voice. There was nothing to hide from Rachel, not when she was miles and hours away.
"He's fine." She insisted, and Kurt could hear the doubt in her voice. It pierced him.
When they hung up, Kurt let his head fall against the wall he was slumped again, and just cried. It was painful to miss someone.
One night, it's all too much for one boy. Kurt's walking back to his apartment, muttering to himself about sheet music and dance steps and that one stupid girl who keeps stepping on his toes on purpose — that's when he snaps. The door slams a little too hard. His feet drag a little too heavily. The phone's blinking and he doesn't bother to check the messages because he's so damn tired of it all.
As he walking to his bed, his feet suddenly stop working. They're planted on the spot and Kurt's mouth is agape and he swears, if he hadn't clenched his fists, he would've broken down crying then and there. Because this isn't the life he envisioned for himself when he came to New York, and he didn't expect to come home to an empty bed and cold sheets.
For the first time in his life, Kurt feels completely and utterly alone.
He falls face first into his pillow and passes out almost instantly. Kurt was tired of it all.
And his dreams are filled with that one voice he wants to hear; that sweet, smooth baritone of the boy he thought would always be there, but was snatched away by opportunity and success, by a one in a lifetime chance that became the reason for their separation. His curls bounce as they laugh, and for a moment, Kurt actually thinks this is all happening and he finally has him ba—
At three in the morning, the shrill electronic sound of the phone pierces the night air and Kurt jolts awake.
A/N: Sorry for any inaccuracies regarding life in Italy or in NY. I've never been to either of those places. I'm just writing this for fun :) Hope you enjoyed it. Next part will be up sometime this week. I promise, since writing is my favorite method of procrastination and it's midterm time.
EDIT: added some, since i seriously thought it was lacking. sorry for the still eminent lack of quality.