AN: This is a story created for a Kurt/BlaineReversebang2013, inspired by an image made by awesome Magicalplaylist (you can find it in hi-res on her tumblr: magicalplaylist on mine: tarabottiwrites. or: kblreversebang)
This story was betaed by GG42, who pulled off an insane amount of work in a very short time and helped this story to exist!
I'll be adding a new chapter each day - there are nine of them - and I hope you all will enjoy it!
P.S. I know I have another story to update and I'm working on it :)
Warnings: Mentions of homophobia and bullying, minor character death, mental abuse, some physical violence, light swearing
Disclaimer: Glee characters are not mine - I only own the magic shop.
Chapter 1
House of Tricks
"This time it will work splendidly, Blaine," The Magician promised. If Blaine didn't know better he would swear the man looked guilty.
"Think about it – you won't be alone!"
He would prefer to be. Less reminders of the fact that the life was going forward out there.
"You won't be able to say I don't learn from my mistakes."
It was the wrong lesson though. Blaine, however, had learnt a few lessons on his own as well.
Lie. Survive. Charm. Pretend. Don't argue – agree. Wait.
Of course, Blaine hadn't expected the arrival of the 'hurricane' that was about to challenge his patient plan.
The sign was barely readable behind the curtain of rain. It swayed rhythmically above the heavy wooden door. The warm light that beamed from the colourful display window tempted all that walked by.
House of Wonders
Kurt would quote that name if asked for the lamest shop name one could make up. He couldn't be picky, though, if he wanted to get away from the heavy summer rain. His bad luck was to be blamed that he chose this day to skip school, but with exams done and with a group of jocks he'd spotted by the garbage bin – probably waiting for him and other unfortunate kids – Kurt wouldn't even call it a choice, really. Normally it would be fine for him to just go back home but, after his argument with his dad this morning, he didn't want to try his luck sneaking into his room.
The interior of the shop seemed cozy and Kurt guessed it wouldn't hurt to actually wait inside for the change in the weather. From the entrance he was welcomed by a human sized mirror that made one's reflection disappear if he would move just off centre. Kurt discretely checked his appearance as sometimes even waterproof make up could get smudged if the nature's forces were involved. Fortunately everything had stayed sharp – the eyeliner still framed his blue-green eyes in a slim line and the sapphire shadow hadn't given him panda eyes. His chestnut hair with purple highlights had been unfortunately flattened by the rain. When the mirror also captured his gothic – well, fake gothic – outfit together with the half mysterious, half gaudy interior around him he smiled bitterly - how ironic that he visually fitted so well with the last place he would normally visit. Not that he didn't like a sparkle of magic in his life but he knew this place mostly as where the jocks bought their exploding pens, farting pillows and other props for making cruel jokes. He could now see the assortment was much wider here than he had initially thought.
First of all, the shop itself looked spacious, even filled to the roof with packed shelves. At the front there was an old-fashioned counter surrounded by baskets with promotional little gadgets. Some examples were unpacked and there was a group of children that watched the contents with sparkly eyes. The salesman of indescribable age looked at the kids fondly in-between speaking with customers.
Figuring that he could at least wander around until the rain stops, Kurt decided to walk in further. He was confused seeing that there were more mirrors ahead – in different sizes, some normal, some distorting. The different angles of reflections were warping the simple structure of the shop and Kurt felt a bit dizzy at first from that, only getting used to mirrors catching customers' movement in the weirdest ways after a while . After the first row of shelves featuring the top sale products, the floor rose up and led to a more specialist section full of serious illusionist equipment. It was interesting to see that many of these were labelled as being just a base to customise depending on the plan to use them and creativity of the aspiring illusionist. It surprised Kurt that one entire shelf was filled with books and they were not only stage magic manuals, but also fiction and historic books. He frowned slightly seeing that many of them had tattered corners, as if they were read at the store rather than bought. Then, behind the shelves, at the back of the shop was arranged a cosy and intimate reading corner with few big sofas and a two coffee tables between them. It certainly encouraged him to relax there for a moment before delving back into illusionist magic props.
On an impulse he sat on one of the couches. It was pleasantly comfy and gave off this homely vibe that he hadn't felt in his own house lately.
"Sorry, dad. I didn't mean it that way," Kurt immediately whispered, because it wasn't his father's fault. They worked well together –well, mostly - both supporting themselves in their loneliness, but both unable to be completely comfortable with each other. Even earlier today they'd had another fight, as Kurt's dad hadn't understood his son's need for privacy and a lock to his room.
Kurt closed his eyes for a moment, blocking out the shouts of excited children around. He felt safe now – from his bullies and from the fear of disappointment his father would feel if he ever found out his only son's 'little secret'.
His eyes snapped open when he strongly felt someone's stare on him. The teenager looked around, but it seemed that his hyperawareness of other people's presence that he had developed at school failed this time, as no one seemed to be there. The only movement he caught were the random reflections in the numerous mirrors. Nonetheless Kurt lifted himself up to go back to the front shop. Maybe his dad would be already gone to work and he could go home and start making movie plans for a sleepover at Tina. He hoped she is not going to be too disappointed that he didn't inform her about ditching school, especially after all the work she had put into making his life easier for him.
"It's your first time here, isn't it?"
The deep, pleasant voice captured Kurt's attention. Looking up at the mirror he recognized the reflection of the owner of the shop – a mildly handsome, ageless man. His hair was raven black and combed up, no signs of grey in the thick waves. His eyes were murky and depleted of any colour. Where the interior of the shop was loud and gaudy, the man was quiet and easy to miss.
Kurt turned around to face the stranger in person and nodded in reply to the earlier question. "It's not my usual place to come to. I guess the warmth tempted me as I needed to escape the weather." He waved toward the display window, behind which the heavy curtain of rain was still hitting the pavement.
"Yes. Here is so much safer," the man agreed. "And now, what do you think of the shop? Do you like magic?" he wiggled his eyebrows.
"You mean 'tricks', right?"
The owner deflated. "Teenagers these days... losing all their beliefs in the supernatural in order to appear more mature..." In a theatrical gesture he wiped a non-existent tear. "They get rid of Santa or tooth-fairy from their lives so quickly now..."
Kurt felt bad for the man for a moment, although he suspected that the exaggerated emotions seeping from him were probably a bait – this was, after all, the man's business.
"It's not that... I just get enough unbelievable crap from the real world."
"But that's when my magic should come in – for distraction and comfort!"
"Okay," Kurt finally agreed, rolling his eyes. "One... magic trick."
The man smiled and for a moment his face lost the composed kindness and gleamed with triumph. But only for a moment - a split second that Kurt ignored. The owner waved and a perfect fan of cards unfolded in his hand.
The teenager smirked. "Really? You have one chance to impress me and you want to do a card trick?"
The man ignored him, continuing the party-magician cliché. "Pick a card. Any card. Look at it but don't show me."
Kurt looked sceptically at the patterned backs of the cards, but reached forward, pulled out a random one and stared at the mostly white image.
"Great! Now, put..."
Kurt halted listening to the man as he was suddenly distracted by a small movement at his side – a shadow of a person skipping along the reflective surface. However, when he cast a glance in its direction he only saw his own reflection in one of the mirrors. Irritated, Kurt looked back at the card.
"I'm sorry; could you repeat the last bit?"
The man frowned, but spoke again.
"Put back the card-"
Wake up, bud! You are going to be late to school!
And he woke up.
Above him hovered a group of teenagers of both genders that looked somehow familiar tohim, yet he was sure they had never met before. Some of them looked concerned, some of them just curious. He blinked few times and tried to clear his head from the heavy fog drowning him.
Seeing as some of the gathered people's lips moved, he forced his brain to concentrate on listening.
"Can he even hear us?" One of the girls asked, frowning. The tall guy standing next to her shrugged, uncomfortably trying to look more confident that he actually was.
The grip on his shoulder – more comforting than threatening – made him turn his attention to the side, where someone was crouching next to him.
The face he met was so close that he could see all the autumn shades in the stranger's eyes.
"Can you hear me?" the crouching boy asked.
He nodded, taking in the appearance of the stranger, who actually looked even younger than the rest of the group, but his eyes seemed more concentrated than others as though they were trying to look under his skin. Few stray dark curls hovered just above them. The face framing those piercing eyes was positively gorgeous.
"You are very handsome," He couldn't help saying – fortunately the strange boy just chuckled bashfully at that instead of getting mad, or disgusted, or both. The rest of the group only exchanged surprised looks.
"Thank you, um... Can you tell us your name?"
That question made him uneasy as he offered the closest answer he could find inside his brain.
"Ace of Hearts."
Few of the teenagers groaned.
"I swear, each new one is crazier than the previous one..." The blonde girl who had said that smirked at another girl – a short brunette. "Excluding you, of course. My ears are still ringing from your screeching."
The boy crouched by his side didn't react the same way. He frowned slightly as his gaze travelled across his face searchingly. It didn't find what it was looking for apparently, because the boy sighed and extended his hand.
"Can you stand?"
He placed his hand on the stranger's and ,with some help, stood up.
The group collectively inhaled, while the stranger just stared at him with curiosity.
"Could you not look at me like that?" He asked and that finally got some kind of reaction from the dark-haired boy. Well, he only blushed, but reaction is still a reaction.
"Are you alright?" The stranger asked tilting his head.
He was alright. He was better than alright. For the first time he wasn't worried about anything bad waiting for him behind every corner.
So he nodded and smiled. "Why shouldn't I be?"
"Do you remember your name?" The question was asked again, this time by a really tall, gentle-looking brunette.
"I already said-"
"That's not a real name." The blonde girl from earlier huffed.
"What do you mean?"
"REAL name, like... for example, I'm Quinn," the girl pointed back at herself and then turned around to introduce the group. "This is-"
"Santana." He finished for her looking at the dark-skinned girl with raven hair and stunningly angry face. Ignoring the surprised looks, he continued, to the shock of everyone there.
"Noah..." The almost shaved – save for the short mohawk - well-built guy winced. "Everyone calls me Puck," he corrected and crossed his arms.
"Brittany."
The human-sized, sweet version of a Barbie doll squealed and clapped like it was a successful parlour trick.
"Rachel." The short brunette from earlier, hearing her name consciously straightened at his attention. She actually seemed pleased.
"Jake." The shorter version of Noah – with rounder cheeks and more gentle posture – just stared, surprised.
"Marley." The girl hunched as if not believing anyone would know her name.
"Kitty." A blonde, perkier version of Santana rolled her eyes muttering, "Show off."
As if on a roll, he looked then at the curly-haired stranger... and fell silent.
"I'm Blaine," the boy offered quietly. "How did you know everyone's names? Do you know them?"
He shook his head. "They were written," he answered with a shrug. "Underneath their heads."
Kitty snorted. "Oh God... He's more crazy than our situation."
Blaine – how nice it was to match the face to a name, especially one that sounded so velvety – hushed Kitty angrily and looked back at him. "What do you mean underneath? Have you seen them somewhere before?"
His head hurt from all these questions. Why did they keep asking? It was so nice not to try to think. The pain must have shown on his face, because suddenly everyone's faces were filled with worry. Blaine tightened the hold on his hands. Too late – the space around him had started to tilt and the world flipped upside down.
Wake up, kiddo! I also have to get to work – you know I have to be at – a screeching noise attacked his ears...
...and Kurt woke up again.
This time his head didn't feel like it was filled with marshmallows. His mind now was frighteningly clear and filled with dread as Kurt couldn't pinpoint where he was. Trying to move, he found himself lying on some sort of bed or sofa, wrapped tightly in a warm blanket. There was another blanket thickly folded underneath his head. Part of him wanted to go back to sleep – hoping that the vague memory of meeting a strange group of teenagers would turn out to be a dream. However, he had never felt more awake than now. His heart was beating fast and adrenaline from panic drove away the hope of falling asleep.
Kurt waited a moment for his eyes to get used to the darkness and then quietly unwrapped himself from the blankets. His bare feet touched the floor.
He was surrounded by subtle sounds – breathing, light snoring... These were the people he had met earlier. The teenagers he had never seen in his life, yet knew their names. This time, however, he also remembered his own name and he knew he had to get home.
Kurt looked around and tried to recognize where he was. With a row of tall shelves filling the darkness, the room looked like a more sinister version of the magic shop he had walked into earlier. Of course it was that damn shop – being in there was the last thing Kurt remembered.
He quickly scrambled off the couch. Looking around he recognized the placement of the shelves from his earlier exploration during the day and padded on his toes toward the front of the shop, ignoring the sleeping bodies on other sofas– for all he knew they could be his kidnappers. Fortunately they were extremely stupid kidnappers that had forgotten to tie their prisoner up.
As he moved stealthily, Kurt registered that something was not right about the interior surrounding him. It wasn't until he reached out to a shelf to guide himself through the darkness that he realized what was missing – the many mirrors were gone. Perhaps they were hidden for the night? But all of them? Rearranging so many mirrors every day seemed like such a waste of time...
"Kurt, don't distract yourself," the teenager chastised his own mind for wandering. "You just need to get out of here – your dad must be worried sick." The memory of their earlier fight stung his heart. Would he think that his son had run away? Will he call his friends or just leave it until the next day? Kurt's hand instantly reached his back pocket for his phone, but it was gone along with his messenger bag. His kidnappers had done something 'right' for once.
Sliding his hand over the edges of the wooden shelves, Kurt managed to make his way in the dark to the front of the shop. The display window was covered with a curtain and the stained glass panel in the front door didn't let much light in, but at least now Kurt could make out the shapes in the darkness without worrying about bumping into anything.
The teenager padded quietly toward the door. He expected it to be locked, but it was still disappointing when the handle didn't even budge. In a growing desperation Kurt looked around and noticed a wooden umbrella basket. The durable-looking object sparked a flame of rebellion in the teenager. In one fluid motion he grabbed the rim of the basket and turned from the door toward the display window. The crash would create a lot of noise, but it would be equally loud outside and hopefully someone would even call the police. That last thought filled him with additional certainty. His arms tensed as he lifted the wooden object above his head and then Kurt threw the basket at the curtain and the glass behind it.
The loud crash filled Kurt's ears even more painfully than he had expected.
Only after a moment he realized it wasn't so much a sound, as he had been actually physically hit, the impact sending his body violently onto the floor.
"Ugh-" Kurt's groan was interrupted as he again felt a violent attack – this time a strong hand grabbed the front part of his shirt and swung him easily onto the hard surface of the front desk.
As if through the fog Kurt heard another voice and the grasp on his shirt lightened.
"...it's not his fault!" The rich tenor of the stranger from earlier – Blaine, supplied Kurt's brain – could be heard nearby. The teenager opened his eyes.
Kurt felt a cold shiver running along his spine as he recognized the man leaning above him. It was that creepy owner of the magic shop. The man's face was unnervingly calm-looking considering he had just thrown Kurt's body onto the counter desk like it weighed nothing. The ageless watery eyes were staring at him with little emotion, just curiosity – the patronising kind one would display while observing ants just before destroying their ant-hill.
Meanwhile, someone joined them and Kurt was relieved to find it was Blaine. The boy might have been his kidnapper as well, but at least he felt more human-like than the creepy man above Kurt.
"He didn't know... He wasn't feeling very well when he woke up, so we didn't have time to explain anything to him. Don't hurt him." Blaine looked worried sick as he added after a pause. "Please."
The older man thought for a moment and took a step back, his eyes still fixated on Kurt. "You should've told me that this evening. I need to know everything that is out of the ordinary." he scolded in a patronising parental voice.
"It was nothing like that!" Blaine quickly denied. "He bumped his head and was too dizzy to focus on what we would tell him." The boy smoothly moved between the man and Kurt, causing the shop's owner to direct his eyes at him instead.
"It would still help me to know this. You know how I don't like to do all this." The man waved his hand around. "It makes me irritated."
Kurt could hear Blaine swallow.
"Okay," the curly-haired boy whispered. "We'll fix that. I will fix that."
The owner hesitated and glanced back at Kurt. "I actually thought that perhaps a fresh story might entertain me more. I would love to get to know more about this young man – I'm sure there's an interesting reason for his behaviour."
Blaine fully stepped in front of Kurt, still sprawled and confused on the top of the front desk.
"He has no idea about our deal. Give me a chance to explain it to him fully first."
"I don't like to wait." The man pouted playfully and it looked so artificially planted on his face that Kurt couldn't help shuddering at that 'collaged' effect. "I could explain myself."
"No! I mean, he was not feeling well earlier..." There was a slight desperation in Blaine's voice. Kurt had no idea what these two were talking about, but he really hoped that the short boy would win this argument. "I think it's best that he rest first – he wouldn't be an interesting conversationalist. I'll keep you company – it's been a while, hasn't it?"
There was a flicker of uncertainty in man's eyes, but it vanished as he focused again on Kurt. "You hear us? Blaine here will talk with you about our... arrangement. There is no need to panic, fight or run – I won't hurt you. You've seen the other kids already, right? Did they look hurt to you?"
Only after a moment of silence Kurt realised he was expected to answer. Unable to squeeze a voice out of his dry throat he shook his head.
The man smiled, content with that, and stepped back. Blaine took his place and leaned over the scared teenager.
"Everything will be alright," he soothed taking Kurt's arms into his hands and gently pulled the boy up. "He's really not going to hurt you. We will talk in the morning."
The soft voice and promises weren't very comforting when Kurt still felt pain throughout his body from the hit he had received just a moment earlier.
"I'm already hurt. And I don't want to be here with this psychopath– I want to go home."
Blaine winced and quickly glanced at the older man, before scooting closer. "I wish I could let you go, but I can't. Please, just trust me for now."
"But there are two of us and-" Kurt's mouth was covered by a rough-skinned hand.
"Shhhh... He might be just one person but don't underestimate him. For now – you need to sleep off the trauma your body received so far."
"I don't feel like sleeping."
"Yes, you do," Blaine retorted. "And you can sleep safely – I'll take care of that." He pulled the teenager into his arms. Normally Kurt would feel uncomfortable with the close contact – no male beside his father would ever touch him without following it with disgusted leer – but Blaine's touch felt like a relief. Kurt's eyes drooped and his head felt heavy. He could only hear an inaudible murmur of a conversation before he drowned in the darkness.
Kurt... I know you are not sick, so I won't let you sleep instead going to school. When did you become so tardy? Wake up!
Blaine was sitting on the floor, legs crossed. The early morning's dim light gave his dark hair warm, curly highlights. From time to time he would turn the page of a book he was reading – the quiet rustle from it being the only sound disrupting the silence.
The boy finally raised his eyes and saw that Kurt was observing him from under the blanket on the sofa.
"Hi," he said with a weak smile.
Kurt immediately noticed that Blaine had dark circles underneath his eyes and looked pale. He started frowning as he was slowly collected all the hazy memories from the previous day and night. Memories full of unanswered questions.
"I guess we need that talk now," Blaine said as if reading Kurt's mind.
next chapter: House of Secrets