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Prologue: Questions
Some questions remain long after their owners have died.
Lingering like ghosts.
Looking for the answers they never found in life.
- Copenhagen, Michael Frayn
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The last page of the photo album fluttered closed, making no noise in the quiet room. From outside, the sound of Burt chatting to Blaine's parents could be heard, the latter laughing heartily at a joke. Inside, Kurt smiled at the noise, secretly loving that this first introduction was going so perfectly.
"It seems like you would've been a cool kid," Blaine finally said, bringing Kurt's attention back to the photos.
Kurt chuckled at the words, picking the album off the ground and replacing it in a bookshelf. His boyfriend watched, head tilted to the side as he considered the reaction.
"What's so funny?"
Turning back to face Blaine, Kurt rolled his eyes.
"Do you honestly think I was a cool kid? I wore princess dresses, Blaine. I played with tea-sets and Barbies instead of trucks. In the sixth grade, I once got a detention for telling my teacher in no subtle terms that her shoes absolutely didn't go with her bag."
Grinning, Blaine stood up, saying, "But that's exactly what I mean! You would've been such an incredible person to be around – so sure and proud of who you were."
"You think I was proud?" Kurt's tone was one of patronising disbelief. "I was miserable! I did everything I could to try and be the type of kid all the others boys were.
Blaine's expressed faltered as he asked, "Why?"
"I'm not like you. It took a long time for me to learn to be happy about standing out, to be comfortable that I was different to everybody else. Obviously, now it's different, but it wasn't like I was born utterly immune to what everybody else thought and said and did to me."
"And what, you think I was born immune to it all?" Blaine sounded impatient, almost insulted by the accusation.
"No," Kurt insisted. "I just mean that you never denied who you were. You never gave people a reason to treat you as anything but exactly who you are. You were never... well, ashamed of who you are."
There was a weighted pause as the boys stared at each other, locked in a stalemate, both reluctant to let on the true pains of the past. Pains that had been kept at bay for years. Pains that, if it could be helped, would never be revisited again.
"You're right," Blaine finally said. "I suppose I don't understand what that's like."
So as Kurt offered him a half-smile and a hand, Blaine swallowed down the admission that had been lurking behind his sealed lips. The confession, as vivid and bitter as ever, descended back down his throat, settling into the confines of his heart, to wait there for a little longer. In its wake, there was only the vague sting of memory – words spoken, injuries suffered, promises broken.
"It's not me!" A boy cried, folding his head into his chest as another blow hammered into his side. "He's the one you should be hurting! He's the one who talked me into all this! He's the- the..."
Kurt squeezed Blaine's hand, bringing him back to reality.
"You okay?" he asked, eyebrows raised.
Blaine blinked hard, trying to cut off the feel of the ghosts of dress shoes burying themselves in his stomach, the phantoms of words echoing around him.
"Yeah, I'm fine."
Think of this as that toe you dip in the pool before you dive in. It's a very timid beginning to a story that I'm somewhat reluctant to pursue.
Firstly, I'd need a beta. Secondly, I'd need November to hurry up and arrive. And thirdly, I'd need to find a way to communicate with that tiny part of my head that doesn't absolutely detest the idea of Blaine being anything but a character who is constantly cheery, albeit lacking a little depth.
But I'm keen to know if you're interested in reading more of this, or if you're really happier with me sticking with the light, fluffy, beautiful Klaine that we all know and love. Review?