Authors Notes: This AU was inspired by the phenomenal film A Single Man, not exactly following the plot, but heavily influenced by it. Also; pretty much listened to Sia's Lullaby on repeat while writing this. Trying different styles of writing. Quite enjoyed writing like this, hope you do too?
Glee is not mine, nor is 'A Single Man'.
send a question in the wind
Upon seeing the almost obsessively organized frames and shelves that decorated dull walls, Kurt perked a brow, a small, teasing smiled held in place on his lips as he let himself be drawn to the rows of novels that were placed in order like a library would have it.
"You certainly like to keep your things organized."
"I like to keep things in order; know what to expect."
His gaze wandered over to the curious face, only to find himself being the one observed now.
Looking at him; the corner of Kurt's lips curled into a miniature smirk that failed to reach his eyes. Pale eyes, that painted a picture with just their color; a stark, blue ocean with a morning fog that traveled over calm waves.
Eyes that were much too wise for his age.
"I know that feeling," The gentle voice interrupted his musings, catching Blaine off guard because it shouldn't have. "Wanting to know what's coming next," Breaking the extended eye-contact, he instead concentrated on the pale fingers that traced over the countless spines of books. "But there's an incredible boredom that comes with that knowledge."
A low rumble that could have been a chuckle left Blaine's dry lips. "I like to think of it as a comfort."
A sound that was definitely a chuckle left the brunet's lips, his head resting back against the dark wood of his shelf, silk locks brushing over the small amount of dust that had settled there during the day.
"But it's absolutely no fun if you can't be surprised."
"Well, not all surprises are good ones." A silence hung in the air as the words left his lips, a comfortable silence that dwelled as their minds processed that which was too true.
"No, maybe not," His voice was softer now, it sent a delicate pang to Blaine's heart, the small pain a whisper of Kurt's voice. "But if you let the bad outweigh the good there's no enjoyment to be had. No life to live, and that seems like such a waste of effort, to live only to let the bad things win."
Blaine surprised himself with a genuine laugh that echoed off the silent walls. "Since when did you get so insightful, mister Hummel?"
"Oh, please don't call me that, it sounds like you're talking about my dad," His laughter reminded Blaine of bell chimes, musical and soothing to listen to. "And I was brought up to be open-minded, my mother said it was an important trait to carry. To be understanding and see the world in color, otherwise everything is dull and grey."
Having Kurt here, was a contrast to everything else in Blaine's life. He knew this, what the younger man had just said confirmed this.
Kurt lived in a world of vivid colors and upbeat music; dancing to the beat of his own drum when everyone else is playing violins, loving life despite it's many, many flaws.
Blaine instead inhabited himself in a world where all the colors were drained and the music of his life was but a low, barely-there tune; letting the joy of living spiral out of him after a death that came
(Too early)
Long ago.
But here he stood, in front of the nearly-lifeless man, his presence loud and demanding despite the frailty his body contained. And to Blaine's surprise; colorful.
Bright and lovely when everything else is monotone.
Suddenly everything about this boy intensifies, the brown locks more vivid and highlighted despite the low lighting from his lamp, the flush on pale cheeks bloomed like fresh pink roses, parted lips a delectable red from worrying it constantly with teeth.
Suddenly, his life isn't so simple anymore.
It
(Scares)
Excites him.
He looks back into wide eyes and finds his gaze met. Kurt's staring back at him, letting the current silence wash over them like the mist in the other's eyes. It takes a few beats of that silence for Blaine to realize that he has yet to say something. Yet the man across from him isn't looking like he's expecting him to say anything.
The way Kurt's looking at him is implying that Blaine doesn't really need to say a thing. He's talking to him without actually saying a thing; communicating his words through breathtaking eyes.
'Don't think too much about it,' They say with their knowledgeable blue.
'I feel the same way,' The emotional green tells.
'It's okay,' Understanding grey communicated.
But most importantly, when they all combine into the beautiful fusion in Kurt's irises they simply tell Blaine what he needs to do; 'Don't think; it's okay to allow yourself to feel,'.
And Blaine decided that it's about time that he did just that.
With long strides he crossed the room over to a waiting Kurt, tilted his head to an angle and allowed their lips to press together, letting the warmth of another human being engulf him in a way he hadn't allowed himself to do in a very long time.
He could feel the other's eyelashes flutter against his cheek as they shut, just like he felt the weight of nimble arms cross over his shoulders. With slow movements, Blaine placed his large hands on either sides of Kurt's hips, both of their grips tightening at the same time.
From then on they didn't have to say a word to each other that they couldn't communicate with their actions. Eyes searching each others as they pull away from the kiss, asking silently how far they're allowed to go. Fingers threading through curls answering tenderly. Legs moving in synch to make it to Blaine's room, gently spreading their limbs on the bed as lips clash together again.
Their actions bring the image of waves crashing on rocks against a shore to Blaine's mind. Overwhelming, dangerous and devastating all in one, yet completely natural and fluent.
Clothes are shed and scattered in a flurry around them as they yearn to touch any inch of skin they can skim fingers and lips on.
Blaine decides to busy himself by making a pattern of purples and reds on Kurt's almost translucent skin. When he pulls back there's a warm almost-forgotten feeling of accomplishment at creating those marks on untouched skin, his heart aches at the simple beauty of it; planes of flat, ivory chest colored with love-bites and bruises that resemble a dark rose in bloom.
He distantly hears Kurt make a small sound of impatience before the feeling of fingers curling around his neck and pulling him back down into a heated kiss brings him back.
The night slips through Blaine's unwilling fingers in a haze of bare skin, quiet moans that quickly escalated into cries of pleasure, bodies slick with perspiration from sliding against, around, and in each other.
When they finish, they lie in a pile of tired limbs around one another, unwilling to break their heated cocoon. Kurt, unsurprisingly is the first to move, pushing locks of Blaine's untamed curls away from his forehead, letting his touch linger on warm skin.
Blaine closes his eyes at the contact, letting himself memorize the soft touch of the pads of Kurt's fingers. He allows himself to lean into the touch before taking the hand in his own and resting it over his own heart which is still beating wildly. Without opening his eyes, the elder can already picture the smile the other is wearing on bruised lips; tired but content.
They sleep like that for the remainder of the night. Entangled in each others presence, hands curled together and finding comfort in the body heat between them.
For the first time in a long time, when Blaine wakes up he doesn't hurt.
(He smiles.)