A/N:
Klaine, set in NY in what I figured would be their sophomore year in college.
rating is for a tiny little bit of language.
I haven't written fic in years and when I did it was all oc, so this is my first foray into glee fic. I also wrote it at like 4 in the morning and think it's utterly cheesy. Reviews are totally welcome and appreciated. The song is "A Bad Dream" by Keane.
Disclaimer: I don't own Kurt/Blaine/Rachel/Keane, I just like them. So please don't sue me.
It was 4 AM in this dinky little apartment in the East Village. Kurt had been sitting in the dark for the past hour and a half, staring at the ceiling lit only by the faint glow of his alarm clock. In a few hours, the clock will wake him with the pre-set alarm of his voice, recorded all those months ago after he bounded through the door of the shabby room, babbling on about how this is totally awesome we can spend all of our time singing our feelings and concerns with the entire neighborhood and maybe we can make friends with that guy from law and order and a cross-dressing street performer and OHMYGOSH thiswillbeso- "just because Rent is from the east village doesn't mean that's what life will be like here, Blaine." And when the boy looked over to see that Kurt was just barely holding back a laugh, he just had to record a smashing rendition of "La Vie Boheme" on his laptop, name it "the best song ever sung by Blaine," and load it on Kurt's iPod for his listening pleasure.
Kurt only wished he could change the alarm to something that didn't remind him every day of the mistakes he made, but waking up to anything but that excitable little puppy of a man left him in an even worse shape than replaying that scene in his mind every morning did.
Kurt looked at the clock again, stared at it for what seemed like eternity. He could hear the birds chirping outside his window and the soft thud of the door to the apartment next to his closing behind some poor, unfortunate soul who had a real reason to be awake this early. He threw a pillow over his head and forced himself to fall asleep for at least an hour before he was forced awake by "hey mister, she's my sister" for the hundredth time.
Rachel was a peculiar person. She demanded that Kurt be a gentleman and escort her to class every morning, complete with the perfect coffee. Kurt obliged her demands, stopping every day at the perfect little fair-trade coffee shop near the flat she rented with the roommates she found at orientation earlier that year. That morning was no different, so when he finally had the strength to shut the damned alarm clock off that morning, he dragged himself out of bed and into the tiny bathroom across the only hallway in his apartment. After the past few restless nights he was surprised to find he only looked slightly tired, but Kurt knew Rachel would see past what would undoubtedly be a perfect outfit and a hairstyle without one out-of-place hair to see the slight trace of dark circles under his eyes. She would know without asking that he'd spent the night wishing he'd acted differently, regretting every single thing he said that chased him away for good. But it had been a month, and everyone would be expecting him to get over it soon.
Later, as he hailed a cab with Rachel's skim-milk-and-sugar-is-so-much-better-than-that-silliness-you-drink coffee in hand, he knew that he would not be moving on any time soon.
"It'll be just like glee club! Except people will be able to see our talent and they will actually appreciate it this time," Rachel commented excitedly as she and Kurt walked arm-in-arm toward her only class that morning, conveniently located on the completely opposite end of campus as Kurt's first of two that day.
"Rachel, have you ever even been to an open mic night? You do know it's nothing like glee at all?" Kurt asked with his eyebrow cocked - an expression he'd utilized with increasing frequency on those days where Rachel was just a little bit crazier than usual.
"Of course I have, silly! I mean, the last time was back in Lima and the people there just didn't understand what I was trying to convey to them. I just overpowered them with raw emotion - you were there, you know what -"
"Rachel, that was karaoke and you wouldn't let anyone else sing."
"It's just this once, Kurt. Then I'll never make you do it again."
"Rachel, I told you. I'm not going to let you drag me to some coffee shop at night when I'm not even going to get to drink any coffee and I'll have to listen to you hog the microph-"
"I'll let you pick my outfits out for a week."
"Deal. And you never, ever wear that atrocious hat you wore yesterday ever again."
"... But I like that hat."
They had been in this coffee shop for two hours. Rachel refused to leave until Kurt sang something. Kurt came up with every imaginable reason not to - his throat hurt, maybe he was coming down with something. His clothes were just not up to standard, how could he let all of these people - many of them a group of people Rachel knew from her vocal class - see him dressed like this? He couldn't think of a song to sing. For every excuse, Rachel had an answer. Well, they were in a coffee shop, so go get some tea before singing. Since when has Kurt Hummel ever not been dressed fabulously? And if he doesn't pick a song then she will and mister, he would not like it one bit but he would have to sing it because she wouldn't let him leave without singing tonight, no matter how hard he tried to get out of it.
"You know how tough it's been these last few weeks, Rachel. The only things I can even think of singing are sad and depressing and overdramatic, and no one wants to hear them," he finally told her, out of lame excuses. "Well, Kurt. I want to hear them," she whispered under the sound of a Disney song being sung by a few girls on the makeshift stage in the coffee shop. "We always used to sing when things got bad in Ohio. We would find the songs that could express what we couldn't, and we would sing them out for all the world to hear. And now we're in the center of it all. We're in New York, and more than just a classroom of high school kids in Ohio can hear us and isn't that the point?"
"I just don't know how I'm supposed to get over this by singing a song in a coffee shop. I feel like I'm living in this nightmare. It's a nightmare where everything I do makes it worse and I just want him to come back, but by now he's probably as far away from New York as he can be and I just want to wake up and see him next to me like it should be."
"Well, I can't help you with that. But I know that we're here right now, and there's still plenty of time for you to go up there, ask that short guy with the guitar over there if he knows a song, and sing it out instead of having a heart-to-heart while a song from Beauty and the Beast being sung by three girls who just don't understand the passion of those French townspeople they're trying to imitate."
"Rachel Berry, you aren't going to give up, are you?"
"I didn't give up on Finn for years. I'm not going to give up on you in one night."
"Fine. I'll do it."
It turns out Rachel knows the perfect song for Kurt to sing in this little coffee shop packed surprisingly full with faceless strangers and the few people Rachel knew. And that short guy with the guitar who squeaked out a Beatles tune was much better with a guitar than with his voice, and apparently had an endless obsession with British music groups, so of course he knew an acoustic guitar version of the piano-heavy Keane song Kurt had in mind. It was like the perfect situation that only comes along in movies and books and it was completely cheesy when he thought about it, but Kurt would take it.
If only to placate Rachel and get out of there faster.
"Hello everyone. I'm Kurt Hummel, and this has definitely not been my month," he prefaced, pointedly avoiding the look Rachel threw his way at that statement. He signaled to short-guy-with-the-guitar, and started singing softly.
Why do I have to fly over every town up and down the line?
Kurt pushed through the fact that he was singing in a lower register than he had in the last few months of fawning over Broadway with Rachel, just kept singing softly into the microphone and trying not to break under the pressure of the words coming out of his mouth.
I wake up. It's a bad dream, no one on my side.
He closed his eyes and let the music take over. He didn't break down in the middle of this crowded coffee shop, he didn't stop in the middle of the song, and not a single tear graced his pale face. To the people crowded at small tables and snuggled in on sofas around the little stage, he was just singing a song he liked at a silly little open-mic night. But really, he was kicking himself on the inside, for everything he had said to make Blaine run out that night weeks ago. He just wanted the chance to take it all back, to go back to the giddy bliss they had in their first cruddy apartment in New York, exploring Greenwich with Rachel and living life like they never imagined in Ohio.
Wouldn't mind it if you were by my side.
But you're long gone, yeah you're long gone now...
Kurt took his place next to Rachel at their little table in the corner of the room as the next person jumped on stage and started a rousing rendition of a song Kurt only heard a bit of as he asked Rachel if they could leave now.
Kurt had walked Rachel to the door of her apartment before hailing a cab back to his place and passing out on his futon the minute he got home.
It was 8 in the morning when he heard the knocking. Kurt lifted a hand to his groggy eyes and wished his neighbor would just get a normal job with normal hours so he wouldn't wake everyone on his floor up every morning before he realized that his neighbor would have left long before the sun was up and he certainly wouldn't be knocking on the door.
"Hold on a second," he yelled weakly as he stretched out from his spot on the couch that he is decidedly never going to sleep on again if it leaves him in this much pain after one night.
He rubbed his face with a tired hand as he stumbled through his kitchen to the door. Unlocking the door, he ran his fingers through his hair so at least he looked presentable when he told off whoever decided that waking him up at 8 on a weekend was a good idea. But when he cracked opened the door, he was greeted by a familiar puff of curly dark hair and a pair of hazel eyes looking at the ground.
Blaine glanced up, his arm around the back of his neck. It was all Kurt could do to not slam the door in his face and pinch himself because obviously this was not real right now. He was having a weird, futon-induced dream about his ex-boyfriend looking so damn cute without gel in his hair and a sad little smile and hold on what did he just say?
"I'm sorry, what were you saying?"
"Can I come in, or do I have to stand in the doorway all day?" Blaine answered back, that little tone in his voice that Kurt could never say no to. Kurt opened the door all the way and walked back to his futon as Blaine stepped in and gently shut the door.
"Why are you here?" Kurt asked, staring at the keys he had thrown on the table the night before, at the coffee cup he really should have thrown out a few days ago, the knob on the closet door - really anything other than the boy standing a few feet in front of him.
"I heard you sing last night," he answered simply. As if there couldn't possibly be another explanation as to why he would walk right back in to his ex-boyfriend's life after a month of no contact.
Kurt could only stutter something out about how he was sure he'd have seen if Blaine was there last night and oh gosh that's so embarrassing and please tell him that he didn't look that pitiful up there.
"I know you didn't mean what you said. Before I left." And that was it. Simple as that. A month after Kurt ran his boyfriend out of their apartment and the only things he can think to say are so overused and clichéd and so the only thing left to say is "I'm sorry," again and again and again until Blaine sits down next to him and puts his arm around his shoulders and just looks toward the wall in front of them.
"If you don't hate me-" Kurt started, but Blaine cut in. "I don't hate you. I was pissed and hurt and sad as hell. But I have never once hated you."
There wasn't much to be said, other than a feeble "will you come back?" and "Of course," with the hint of a smile.
Blaine lightly kissed Kurt's temple and leaned his head into the other boy's neck. They just sat there, by each other's sides, and were content. They knew they weren't going to go back to perfection in that one moment. But they were together after a month and maybe in a few weeks they'll have worked their way through everything. And for now, Kurt just relished in the fact that he didn't have to fight off sleepless nights because of something stupid he said. He just had to look to his right and know that he liked the feeling of this boy by his side too much to do something stupid like that again.
Wouldn't mind it if you were by my side...