[A/N: I started this a while ago and I have no idea what to do next, so I'll probably never continue this. I decided to upload it anyways, because of the part describing Kurt and Blaine's lifestyle... If you want to, you can leave me suggestions on what to do next, and maybe I will! As an (inspiring) author, I am always ope to criticism so please tell me exactly what you think. Much love, May.]
Life with Kurt was good. Every morning he would wake up to "Good Morning Good Morning" from Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club blasting from his fiance's iPod, followed by "Here Comes the Sun" from Abby Road, and then "Good Morning Sunshine" from Revolver if none of them stops the alarm clock. Kurt says he has to wake up to the Beatles to have a good day later on. After one of them manages to sit up in bed long enough to wake up the other one and stop the alarm, Kurt makes some breakfast while Blaine takes a shower, and they both eat whatever Kurt made in silence (but not an awkward silence – a peaceful silence). After they both finish getting ready they take the bus to work, but in different directions – Blaine to the tiny, indie coffeehouse downtown with the yellow peeled paint and hundreds of flyers on the old corkboard advertizing protest walks and such, where he worked as a barista, and Kurt to the posh clothing shop where he advised rich women which scarf suits them better. They both worked minimum wages, but they didn't mind. They finished collage together, and their passion was performing, so on some evenings they performed in pubs together, singing duets or playing for one another, just waiting to be "discovered". On other nights they would come home, eat dinner (Kurt usually cooked, since Blaine could only make coffee and if he tried anything else, he would burn the kitchen), and talk about their day. Kurt would tell Blaine about that country-club lady that bought an entire wardrobe two sizes too small, despite Kurt trying to tell her politely that fat-rolls were peeking through the delicate cloth that cost three of Kurt's shifts. Blaine would tell Kurt about the guy who came in stoned and wouldn't leave until Blaine told him the brownies had weed in them. They would laugh together and take another serving of the gourmet food Kurt somehow managed to make with the little money they had. Life wasn't perfect, but it was good enough. They even started saving for the wedding (Kurt wanted a June wedding) ever since Blaine purposed. Life defiantly was good.
But there was one issue, one shadow – one cloud, if you may, covering the sun so it wasn't completely shining in its brightest. They usually ignored it, living life without thinking about it – or at least, pretending no to think about it, as in Blaine's case. But it was hard to ignore the cloud when it called them on a rainy Sunday afternoon, out of the blue.
Usually on Sundays, Kurt and Blaine walked to the old movie-theater, watched a movie and shared a piece of cake from the small coffeehouse, as did many couples in the small town right outside of Los Angeles. But today, the weather forecast said it was going to rain, so Kurt and Blaine decide to stay home and cuddle on the sofa, watching 'The Notebook', when suddenly the phone rang.
Blaine smiles his most adorable smile up at Kurt, who was treading his hand through Blaine's head at the time. Kurt rolls his eyes, mumbling something about making such smiles "illegal, you can get me to do anything that way," pauses the movie and picks up the phone.
"Hummel-Anderson residence, who am I speaking to?" he asks as he sits down on the armrest of the white sofa. Blaine puts his arm around him, hugging him close.
"Hi, can I talk to Blaine Anderson please?" asks a weary voice Kurt doesn't recognize, though it sounds somewhat familiar.
"Sure," he replies, and gives the phone to Blaine, who curves his eyebrows in question while he takes the phone from Kurt. Kurt shrugs in an 'I don't know' fashion, and takes back his seat on the cushion next to Blaine.
"Hello?" says Blaine to the receiver, sitting up. He doesn't know why, but his stomach starts to ache.
"Hey, Blaine," says the weary voice that Kurt didn't recognize. But Blaine does recognize it. Suddenly he starts feeling light-headed and he turns white. Kurt notices and mouths 'What's wrong?'.
"D-dad," mumbles Blaine, and Kurt's eyes widen. "Why- Why are you calling?"
After Blaine finished high-school, his relationship with his father perished slowly, until it had reached a point when they hardly talked once a month. Blaine didn't exactly keep in touch with his mother either (his parents divorced in his senior year of high-school), but they still talked sometimes. Blaine and his father stopped talking completely the first time he introduced him to Kurt, during freshman year in college. After a big fight and a lot of strong words said, they stopped all contact with each other. His father could never get over the face that his son was a 'fag', and that was what their argument was about – he was fine with Blaine being gay, but he was not fine with Blaine acting gay. It had been almost four years without them talking. He knew about their engagement through Blaine's mother, who said his reaction was to take down all of Blaine's pictures from the mantel.
"What, can't a father talk to his son once in a while?" he laughs a humorless laugh and Blaine winced, remembering that laugh very well.
"Well, since you haven't talked to me in the last, what, three, four years, I would say, no, not really," He replies, trying to keep the sass out of his voice, unsuccessfully. Usually sarcasm wasn't his way to deal with stuff, but after knowing Kurt for so long, he suspected a little of it rubbed off on him. But, he supposes it's better than his voice showing how he is about to start weeping.
"Yeah. About that. Look..." his dad on the other line sighs faintly. "I want to start fresh. Clean. If you'd like to-"
"Why should I?" Blaine asks, trying to keep his voice steady. Kurt is rubbing his arm on Blaine's back, trying to comfort him. "why should I forget everything you've said to me? Do you-" he is trying to hold back a sob. Kurt takes his hand, the one that isn't holding the phone, and squeezes it-Blaine feels a jolt of warmness shot up his arm. "Do you have any idea how I felt after that- that fight?" his voice breaks. The other end sighs again.
"I am not asking you to forget. Just to- to give me another chance. If you want to, we can meet on Friday next week, and you can bring that- that boyfriend of yours-"
"Fiance," says Blaine quietly, "Kurt."
"Yeah. Him. Just- please?" the man pleaded, and Blaine can't help but take some pity for him. His father was a tough, harsh man, never begging for anything. To be able to bring him to this point was weird and somewhat discomforting for Blaine, and though he still had that feeling of uncertainty in his stomach, he replied, his voice shaking and his stomach trembling:
"Okay. There is that Greek restaurant called Adelfa. We'll meet you there at 12."
"Okay-" the man on the other line sounds excited. Blaine hears him ripping a piece of paper and knocking down the pencil-holder that he knows stands on the coffee table in search of a pen. "Okay, just a second-" he is breathing a bit hard, after bending over to retrieve the pens that dropped to the floor. "Okay, what's the address?"
As Blaine gives him the address (he knew it by heart, since it was one of his and Kurt's favorite Saturday hang-out spot), he has a feeling something is going to go wrong.
He has no idea how right he is.