Note: Not to detract from anything, but the last time I wrote anything for a fandom was approximately eight years ago. I have everything crossed that this is okay and at least one person enjoys it because there was a lot of to-ing and fro-ing as to whether I would ever post it. But I'm being brave and giving you all an insight into what happens when I let myself watch Amélie late at night with a bottle of wine!
The Fabulous Destiny of Kurt Hummel
One
The sun is shining off of the Hudson and the air has a slight chill to it as Kurt Hummel walks along the Highline, reflecting on how exactly he ended up here. New York City. West Village. Cafe des deux Moulins. He's twenty-five and he should be on Broadway. He shouldn't be glancing at people making their commute below him, taxis beeping and a vibration just ahead, downtown. He should be in bed, or at a rehearsal. He should be illuminated by the lights of Times Square, his face plastered all over Playbills, 'Kurt Hummel' emblazoned across the sky in tiny glittering lights.
But instead his shoes click-clack along the tiles of the old railway line, down the stairs and along the cobbles towards his workplace. The tiny coffee shop, right in the heart of the West Village, stands proudly and sticks out like a sore thumb at the same time. Kurt adores how quaint it is, how they have regulars and how it should probably be a coffee shop out in the sticks, back home, and not in the middle of Manhattan. But it is what it is and it pays the rent and, most importantly, it ensures he never has to return to Lima.
He pushes open the door with all the effort it requires; a swift knock to the kickplate, three counter-clockwise twists of the handle before one final clockwise turn and a good nudge from a shoulder or a hip, to find Brittany spinning behind the counter as Carole sets the chairs under the tables.
"Hey, sweetie. Do you want to fire up the oven and get a pot on for us?" She smiles and he indulges her. She's still the boss, even if she is actively pursuing his father. Brittany waves when she finally stills and starts pulling various mugs and glasses out of the dishwasher.
They work well together; they've always been a harmonious workforce. Every now and then Carole produces a microphone and instructs them to sing, to keep them practicing and ready for when the big break finally happens. She likes to encourage their future, would never dream of holding them back. "There's always another barista wandering the streets of Manhattan, sweetheart" she would respond whenever a staffing query was brought up. And she was right.
Brittany had strolled in one day with fire behind her, determination in her eyes and an infectious smile. Carole hired her on the spot and taught her to use the espresso machine in under an hour. Kurt couldn't quite believe his eyes when he considered that she was the same girl that came in and enquired about a job citing unicorns as a source and "Rory the Leprechaun" as her reference. It sure beat how he had dragged himself out of the rain, exhausted and on the verge of tears after yet another failed audition and an overwhelming urge to give up. Carole had served him up some of her best hot chocolate, free with a kick, and offered him a job until he became the star she knew he was destined to be. He couldn't say no. There weren't any other offers.
Santana glides in a little after eleven, places the same order as every other day of the year, and perches at the end of the bar where she has a perfect view of the whole cafe – but especially Brittany. They were together once and although Brittany isn't chasing anyone else or hadn't even been a date since, Santana still watches her every move. She has to know. She has to see it with her own eyes that the break up wasn't because she wasn't good enough; that it was instead because they simply weren't meant to be. She smiles at Kurt as he walks by and cranks the door open slightly, leaving it ajar. They don't want to see their customers struggling to get in any more than the general public want to be held back from their caffeine fix. It should be fixed. Burt Hummel offers to help every time he visits but it's in the cafe's character, within its very structure so Carole chooses to leave it until it literally falls from its hinges.
"What time does your shift end, Hummel?" Santana calls. She drains the cup and pushes it towards Brittany who just ignores it. Carole eventually rolls her eyes and fixes her up another, not missing the resigned sigh from Santana.
"I get off at seven." He smiles as he gets the pastries on so they're the perfect temperature for the lunchtime rush. "Why? Fancy a little duet for the evening lot?"
"You read my mind." She remarks with a mischievous smirk leading him to wonder what delightfully inappropriate song she has in mind this time.
They do this. Kurt sings out his frustration and Santana is releasing her pain. Brittany watches sometimes and Kurt can't help but wonder if this will be the performance that fixes everything for them but it never is. They're all still waiting but he won't stop trying. And that is how every day goes. It's mundane and soul-destroying but Kurt can't help but be thankful for friends and for the happy little parts of the day.
Mr Collignon will come in for a plain croissant and the strongest, blackest coffee they serve and he will leave behind a quick sketch on a napkin, different every time and always a total mystery. It takes almost until the next day when he draws a new one for them to figure out what the first was supposed to be and it's lovely. Kurt takes pleasure in the wide variety of images Brittany can produce in a latte, his mind boggling at how she does it. He grins every time he sees Carole crinkle her eyes and scrunch her nose, pull at a strand of hair, whenever his dad rings the cafe and she answers. He feels inspired by Santana's resilience, her determination and how every day she walks into the cafe with her mind set and she won't stop trying until closing time comes and she goes home alone once more. It's the little things that make the days pass by easily and quickly. It's what makes him happy, what keeps him going and trying and never giving up.
It's why he can so easily ignore that he is lonely, not that he would ever say.
One failed relationship turned out to be enough and that was that. No more. Not even a fresh start in New York City could change his mind.
Around four o'clock, whilst Kurt is out on a toilet paper run, a man of average height with short but wild hair, and the most captivating eyes walks into the cafe, orders a medium drip and sits at the counter until it's ready. He says his name is Blaine and Brittany hastily scribbles it on the side of the cup, marking it with a tiny daisy at the end. Blaine fiddles with a piece of paper while he waits but when his name is called and his coffee handed over, the paper falls under his stool and he leaves completely unaware.
Two minutes later Kurt returns, complaining about the line in the store and how much the shopkeeper bullies his assistant. The piece of paper catches his eye as he tells his story and tucks the stools back under the counter. He picks it up, pockets it and doesn't think of it again until his next break when he finally pulls it out and takes a look.
Bucket List is scrawled across the top in handwriting that, whilst not untidy, could be neater. To the point, Kurt thinks and begins to read more.
Finish a song
Find him
Get married
Find a decent coffee shop in Manhattan
Try food from a street vendor
Learn a Broadway dance routine
Meet the love of my life in New York City
Kurt reads it through three times before Santana wanders over, leans down behind him and whispers in his ear, "What you got there, kid?" His body jolts with surprise, nerves fraught with tension and his chest tight with the strength of his gasp.
"Someone left this behind," He explains when he regains his composure. "It's very – romantic."
"A bit sentimental if you ask me." She dismisses, dropping into the seat next to him and snatching it from his hands.
"Well I didn't." He snaps.
Santana merely raises an eyebrow to mock his attempt at actually being angry with her but with another glance towards the list, everything about her softens and she slides it carefully across the table towards him. "You should hold onto it. You never know, the owner might come back for it. My bet's on the flaming dwarf that walked through here a little while ago."
Kurt smiles at her attempt at an apology and does exactly what she advises, folding the list in half and stuffing it in his front pocket. As he hums along with the radio and runs through lyrics for his duet with Santana later, his mind never wanders far from the author of such a list. Are they old? Are they talented? What is this song that they're writing? Could Kurt be their muse? Was this the decent coffee shop they had been looking for? Oh please, please, he thought, come back. He just wants a peek, just a tiny look. He's never met them and he's already decided this person is just fascinating.
"It's fate!" Rachel declares as soon as he tells her about his day, skimming over his find and yet she still finds ways of pulling it out of him.
"No, it's not. I have no idea who wrote it." Kurt drawls. He's even boring himself now. "I just thought it was sweet, endearing."
"Kurt," Rachel spins on the spot and stops with her hands on her hips and looking at him pointedly. "You're the most jaded person I know. You don't do sweet and endearing."
"Well maybe I do now. You don't know everything about me, Rachel Berry." Kurt mumbles petulantly. Rachel isn't wrong but at the same time, she's extremely wrong. To everyone else he preaches about how relationships are a waste of time, how he will wait until his dying day to find the person he can stand for longer than five minutes. But where no one can see, deep underneath it all?
He desperately wants someone, anyone.
His last relationship was dull and boring and convenient, so after much soul-searching and an endless stream of pro-and-con lists, he ended it. It wasn't like the musicals said it would be, it wasn't all magic and butterflies in your tummy and an insane need to know how the other is feeling, what they're doing and wondering if they're thinking of you too. It was purely for lack of options. Kurt Hummel arrived in New York City with a heart cast in iron and all the cynicism of a man twice his age. He was done. No more relationships.
It's different now, though.
He just wants a hug sometimes. He wants someone to hold him until he falls asleep. He wants someone to show him how much they love him carefully, slowly and with so much feeling. He craves it every day but he bottles it up, saves it for a rainy day and goes about his life because that person doesn't exist, they can't exist. They would have been here by now if they did.
"Please, you've been preaching about female independence, singledom and all with a slight hint of abstinence since we both arrived in these dingy apartments. What gives?" She demands to know and so he tells her about the contents of the list. He's instantly thrilled that she sees what he has seen. She may be irritating, delusional and the most tragic person he knows – but she's pretty much his other half. "They are the perfect person. I don't care if it's a woman, you forget about being gay and you pursue her until she bows down before your beautiful face and begs you to be hers. This is just – it's lovely."
Kurt nods in agreement. "I want to find them. It seems – personal." He says quietly. "It's probably really special to someone."
"You found it at work, right?" Rachel squints like she's had an idea but he already knows that the words 'stake' and 'out' are bound to follow with suggestions of a Mission Impossible-style entrance and a declaration of love.
"Yes but I'm not sitting there all day waiting for them to come back." He appeases her.
"No, but ask around." She rolls her eyes. "Santana doesn't do anything. She must have seen someone drop it."
Kurt lets his mind wander to how it could have been lost. Would Santana have seen anything from the end of the bar? What 'dwarf' had she been talking about? "Maybe." He says instead of voicing his grievances over the idea.
"This person could make you happy, Kurt." Rachel smiles and he softens towards her a little. She's obnoxious and she's crazy but her heart is always in the right place. He just can't hate her for it. "Even if they are just a friend, you deserve it. So I'll help you. It can be our little mission alongside scoping out all the hottest Broadway auditions." She grips his hand and squeezes reassuringly.
He nods gently to contain his enthusiasm but he's already buzzing with the anticipation of meeting the author. His mind rushes with the possibilities; who are they? Did they abandon the list or simply misplace it? Are they handsome? He can't wait to find out.